#genuine concern over his sister and lit wanting the best for her

[darabeatha]

SERVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL!!!!!!!!

[l0serloki]

bro i’m not even gonna anon idc, can i ask nicely, kindly (only if you want to ofc) for cassidy being jealous?

tysm <3

Jealous OW Character HCs

(Cassidy, Moira, Kiriko, Hanzo)

CW : GN!Reader, mentions of anxiety (Kiriko), Hanzo with some control issues (not overbearing though, dw)...

A/N : SAY LESS!!! I got you ;^)

Cassidy : 

I feel like he won’t outright admit it but you can definitely tell

“I ain’t even jealous. Don’t got a single jealous bone in my body.” (He proceeds to glare at the man who just talked to you)

He gets pretty handsy when he’s jealous and will butt into the conversation you’re having

“Yeah.. Well I need Y/N! Do ya mind?” (They better not mind if they don’t want a fight)

He drags you off and just talks about random stuff to fill the awkward silence. He does NOT wanna talk about it.

“You were jealous.” “Nah. You can kiss me to make up for it though.” “I swear to god Cass-”

Just kiss him and make him feel special LMAO

The new recruit kept going on and on with praises and thank yous for saving his life. You waved them off, saying it was just all part of the job. You could tell he was a little awestruck, still being new to the job. You had been kind enough but he was getting a little annoying. Thankfully your hero in shining cowboy boots was here for the rescue.

“Do ya’ mind? I need to take Y/N. Mission talk and all that.” Cassidy raises an eyebrow at the guy, waiting for a response. The kid puts his hands up in defeat and murmurs a no. Cass just hummed in acceptance, hand gripping at your wrist. You could only grin when you saw the red flush of his face, pulling you out of the room. 

As soon as you were out of hearing distance, you began teasing the man. 

“Is someone embarrassed and jealous? Think some recruit is gonna beat my love for you?” You rubbed circles in his hand as he scoffed in denial.

“Nah, I’m always better. And I am not embarrassed! Or jealous for that matter! Now.. Give me a kiss. I love ya’ too!” 

Moira : 

My gal’s a MENACE

“Oh.. Is this your.. Friend?” She looks them up and down and gives them the most disgusted look.

You have to smack her in the side to behave and she just rolls her eyes

“I was just trying to make conversation, dear.” 

The person walks away and Moira just continues to ask questions about them, moreso concerned as to why you would talk to them.

“Baby, I’m not some god-” “You could be though.” “For the last time I’m not doing that experiment!”

One of Moira’s lab assistants had brought her younger sister in for the day. You had done whatever you could to appease her curiosity and keep her entertained while the other two were off doing lord knows what. 

“So then you-”

“Who.. is this? A friend of some sort?” Moira’s voice boomed from behind you, making you jump.

“Moi! You about scared me to death. This is your assistant's sister. She was just visiting the lab.” You explained and the woman nodded. 

“Yes, well, dear girl, your sister is already on her way to the car. You best be off.” Her demanding presence made the other girl quake, practically booking it.

Your girlfriend turned to go brew herself a coffee, letting out an awkward cough.

“You are worth more than just being a measly tour guide, you know. You should’ve told me that little mouse was on the premises.” 

You could only roll your eyes at her protectiveness, sighing. 

“Moira, there’s no need for that. She was kind! I am not THAT special.” 

“Then you do not perceive what I do, dear.” Her genuine smile lit up your heart, leaning in to give her a kiss.

Kiriko : 

She’s not THAT jealous but you can tell she’s a little put off

She acts normal and nice but the second they walk away she’s gonna be all over you

“Kir, not here.” “Oh please, they need to know their place.” (Sly bastard)

She definitely won’t let the two of you move until she gets a bunch of kisses ;^)

“See, it was that simple babe!”

The festival was packed and you shuffled between the people in search of your girlfriend. You felt the anxiety wavering at your body, pulling off to the side.

“Oh dear, are you alright? Can I get you a drink?” A younger woman at the stall next to you questioned, her eyes softening. You nodded at the generosity, thanking her as she passed you some water. 

“Y/N! Oh, Y/N! I thought I lost you there. Are you alright?” Kiriko had pushed the woman out of the way, checking to see if you were okay. You nodded and sent an apologetic glance to the other woman. She just shrugged and smiled, continuing to selling her vendor foods. 

Kiriko’s eyes gazed between the two of you and shook her head, hands rubbing up and down your arms. You could tell she was a little offput by the woman, hands gripping at you a bit tighter than usual. 

“Iko, why don’t we go home?” You whispered and she nodded, lips melting to your cheek.

“Anything my little troublemaker wants.”

Hanzo : 

“I do not get jealous, you belong to me.”

He tells himself that and then five minutes later you find the other guy with a black eye

“I know you beat him up.” “You are losing it.”

I feel like Hanzo has a lot of control issues, not in an obsessive way, he just really doesn’t want to lose you. He will do whatever it takes to keep you safe!

Just have a conversation with him in bed, he’ll admit to it while he’s tired. Otherwise, good luck getting it out of him!

“I don’t know what you mean.” Hanzo’s gruff voice lilted in denial, face scrunched in anger. You could only snort, hand rubbing against his bicep. The whole night he had refused to admit that he was jealous. You were having a casual conversation with Cassidy when he had gotten back from his mission, waiting in the corner for you to be finished. Truth be told, it was more like pouting in the corner from lack of attention. Usually when he had got off the jet you were waiting like a puppy to pounce on him - but not this time! 

“You just wanted attention and were jealous of Cass!” You teased at him again and he rolled over, back facing you in the bed. Running your hand across his torso, you snuggled into the taut muscles.

“I don't need attention. I was not jealous.. Just.. Waiting for you to be done.” He murmured, voice tired with defeat. You only hummed, smirk getting wider.

“Whatever you say, Hanzo.”

[radroachrepellent]

Lighter

John Hancock (FO4), Chercock (Feltcock is better), Cherry Feltman (FO4 OC), emo sad Cherry, 960~ words

I feel like there is not enough crying in Fallout so I made this. Art was fun to make too and only took me like 1.3 hours!! Cherry is emo and wants to be known and remembered for her deathclaw skin grafts for ghouls but she has not had a lot of success.

Cherry sat on a broken bench in Goodneighbor, her fingers fumbling with an old flip lighter. She flipped it open, trying to light the cigarette dangling from her lips, but her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The lighter clicked shut without catching, and she muttered under her breath, wiping at her eyes quickly when she felt the tears starting to well up. Her glasses were nowhere to be seen—probably tossed aside somewhere earlier when her frustration had peaked.

She flicked the lighter again, this time managing to get a small flame. She lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill her lungs. But it did little to calm the storm in her mind. The day had been another long string of disappointments—more attempts to help that ended with people politely pushing her aside, more jokes that fell flat, more conversations where she was barely acknowledged.

She took another drag, blinking back tears. “Stop it, Cherry,” she muttered to herself. “You’re fine. Juuust fine.”

“Is that a pep talk, or are you just talking to your new best friend, Grey Tortoise?”

Cherry nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice. She looked up to see Hancock sauntering over, his usual grin in place. He was trying to make it look casual, like he just happened to be wandering by, but she knew better.

“Hancock,” she greeted, quickly taking another drag and holding it as if it could hide the trembling in her voice. “Just needed some air.”

Hancock raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bench and then back at her. “Well, this is the perfect place if you’re looking to catch some tetanus with that air.” He sat down beside her, the creak of the bench protesting under his weight. “So, what’s got you out here in the middle of the night, puffin’ away like you’re in some old noir film?”

Cherry shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Nothin'. Just couldn’t sleep.”

Hancock didn’t buy it for a second, but he didn’t press her right away. He leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the bench, his fingers almost brushing her shoulder. “Yeah, insomnia’s a bitch. But, ya know, there’s usually a reason when someone’s up late, cryin’ into a cigarette.” His tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of concern.

Cherry took another drag, exhaling slowly, trying to keep her voice steady. “It’s nothing, really. Just… uh...thinking about stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” Hancock nodded. “You've never been good at lying, sister.”

She shifted uncomfortably, the cigarette burning low between her fingers. “It’s stupid. Just feeling off, I guess.”

“Off?” Hancock repeated, his grin fading slightly. “Now that doesn’t sound like the Cherry I know. Come on, spill it. What’s eating at ya?”

Cherry shook her head, stubbornly wiping at her eyes again. “I told you, it’s stupid. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Hancock sighed, tilting his head to catch her gaze. “I’m gonna stop you right there, doll. If it’s got you out here alone, smoking like the world’s about to end, again, it’s not stupid. So, how about you give me the lowdown, and we stop this 'lil battle of who's more stubborn?”

She let out a soft, bitter laugh, but it quickly faded. “I just… I feel like I’m always messing up. Like I’m always in the way, like no one really wants me around.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, her mask finally cracking. “I’m tired of feeling like this, Hancock. Like I don’t matter. Like I ain't gonna be somebody.”

Hancock’s eyes softened, the humor in his expression replaced by something more genuine. “Well, there’s your first mistake—thinking you don’t matter. I mean, who else is gonna save my sorry ass? Make me a new set of pretty skin and execute the deathclaws near by?”

Cherry gave him a weak smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m serious, Hancock. I just… I try to help, and it never seems to work out. People don’t take me seriously. They just… brush me off.”

Hancock sighed, his hand finally resting on her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Listen, Cherry, this world’s got a real knack for kicking people when they’re down, making ‘em feel small. But that doesn’t mean you are. You’ve got a good heart, and a mind sharp enough to cut through all this bullshit. People might not see it right away, but that doesn’t mean you don’t shine.”

She looked at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I just feel like I’m always fighting to be seen, to be heard. It sucks.”

Hancock’s usual quips were replaced by sincerity. “I see you, Cherry. And trust me, anyone with half a brain sees you too. You’ve got a fire in you that’s... hard to ignore... even if some folks are too damn blind to notice. And for what it’s worth, you’re not in the way. You’re in the fight, same as the rest of us still traveling with Bunny. And I’m damn glad to have you by my side.”

Cherry let out a shaky breath, the tears finally spilling over. “Thanks, Hancock. I just… I guess I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Hancock replied, pulling her into a casual side hug. “And hey, you ever need a reminder, you come find me, alright? I’ll be more than happy to talk you down from any more late-night cigarette fests. Maybe even throw in a few more bad jokes or free chems, just for you.”

She smiled through her tears, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” he said, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Now, how about we go find those glasses of yours before you trip over something in the dark and I have to carry you back?”

Cherry laughed softly, wiping her eyes. “Deal.” And for the first time in what felt like too long, she felt a little less alone.

[buckysgrace]

Forgive Me Father

Billy Hargrove x Kim Mayfield (OC)

CW: Manipulation, handjobs, Billy doesn't know where a rosary is supposed to go, idk religion??

Father Billy takes an interest in one of the new Sister's.

“Father?” Kim stepped into Father Billy’s office slowly, wincing as the heavy door slammed shut behind her, “You wanted to see me?” She asked softly, her cheeks burning from how loud the door had slammed shut behind her. 

“Sister Kim,” Billy greeted with a soft smile. He scooted back in his chair, standing up to greet her, “Come in. I just wanted to check in on how things were going.” He tilted his head, enjoying how red her face was becoming. 

“Oh,” Kim nodded as she stepped forward, her tunic swaying against her ankles. It was still slightly too short, despite having it altered two different times, “Things are going well. Thank you, Father.” She nodded her head softly as she pressed her fingertips against one another. 

Billy was far too interested in her for his own good and perhaps her own good too. She was too sweet, too genuine. She was more real than anyone he’d ever met before. She was stunning, far too perfect. 

He watched her for a moment, constantly wondering if he made her nervous. She always appeared nervous around him. She constantly fumbled over her words, her body would flush and she’d avert her eyes as she played with her hands. She was a mystery to him.

“I heard you mentioning something about your prayers,” Billy drew out softly as he brushed his fingertips against the pages of his Bible, slowly letting it fall shut, “That you wanted to strengthen them?” He questioned her, looking for clarity as he drew his eyes up towards her again.

“Yes,” She said quickly as a bright smile splattered across her lips, “I want to do whatever I can to strengthen my relationship with the Lord.” She nodded her head, her eyes flickering away again as he caught her gaze.

He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, feeling like he was being dragged closer to her. He wondered if she felt the same tension that tugged them closer, or if he was just imagining things. He tilted his head as he watched her again.

“I could help you,” He offered her softly, “I’d love to be a part of that.” He added quickly, enjoying the way her face lit up with joy. He felt his heart hammering roughly inside of his chest, barely able to look her in the eye. “Really?” She looked up at him gleefully, “What do you suggest?” She asked as she linked her fingers behind her back, bouncing forward on the balls of her feet. He felt his own lips curling into a smile, still debating if this was a good idea or not. 

“There’s a way,” Billy began softly, “You’d have to undress.” He told her slowly as he dragged his fingertips across the desk, fully standing in front of her this time. Her eyes widened, her cheeks burning as she looked up at him in surprise. 

“Undress?” She asked him curiously, her dark eyebrows knitting together as she watched him, “Isn’t that a sin?” She questioned him seriously, looking like she didn’t fully understand what he meant. He paused for a second. 

“Why would this be a sin?” Billy questioned as he looked up at Kim, “You were made from God’s image. There is no shame in being naked.” He mumbled underneath his breath as his hands found her small waist. He enjoyed the way she shivered underneath him, how alarmed her eyes grew.

“But Father,” Kim breathed out softly, “I’ve already taken my vows.” She shook her head, looking at him in concern. He watched the way she bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes holding interest as he watched him. 

“This has nothing to do with vows,” He whispered to her softly as he lightly gripped her chin, “This is all about praising our lord, the father.” He watched the way her eyebrows slowly relaxed, how she nodded her head in agreement. 

“What do I do?” She looked at him eagerly, looking overjoyed suddenly. Billy breathed in, doing his best to control his own emotions that were swirling within his chest. 

“Undress,” Billy told her softly, fighting the urge to lick his lips, “Don’t be nervous. God is with us.” He reassured her as his heart hammered roughly inside of his chest. He breathed out roughly, watching as she debated his suggestion. 

“Okay,” Kim blanched for a second as she watched him, her red hair falling into soft ringlets against her shoulders as she removed her headpiece, “I’ve never been nude in front of anyone before.”

“Don’t be shy,” He reassured her, “It’s for God.” He reminded her as he placed his hands against hers softly. She breathed out roughly against his touch before she nodded her head in reassurance. He took a step back, admiring her as she slowly began to remove the rest of her clothing.

She averted her eyes as she slid her gown from her shoulders, revealing her pale skin to him. He felt his breath catching in his lungs, his cock stirring as he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. He stared at her perky tits, fighting to hold back a smirk as he realized how pink her nipples were.

His eyes traveled down the rest of her body as she let her uniform drop to her feet. He licked across his teeth, staring at her white panties as she brought her hands up to her chest. She covered herself, still looking bashful as she kept her eyes glued towards the painted glass windows. 

“S’alright,” He reassured her as he brought his hands up towards hers again. He lightly brushed his fingertips against hers, gently prying them away so she’d be fully exposed to him. She kept her eyes drifting away as her neck began to turn a bright red, “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you Father,” She whispered underneath her breath. He lightly gripped her chin, tugging her face back towards his direction, “What are we doing?” She asked softly, her hazel eyes wide and filled with innocence as she stared towards him. 

“Getting you closer with the lord,” He whispered out raspily, feeling like it was getting harder and harder to hide how desperately he wanted her, “”That’s what you want, right?” He asked, tilting his head as he watched her eyebrows knit together.

“Yes, Father,” Kim nodded her head quickly as she squeezed her fingers against his, “That’s all I want.” She pleaded with him softly. He enjoyed the feeling of her fingertips against his own, feeling a spark traveling up his arm. 

“Do you trust me?” He whispered out softly, feeling like they were far too close for their own good. He brought one hand against her waist, giving her flesh a soft squeeze. She gasped, jolting forward as her hands fell against his chest. 

He groaned underneath his breath, unable to help himself as he felt her soft body against his. Even though he was still dressed, she felt far better than anything he’d ever felt before. He continued to drag his fingertips against her skin. 

“Of course,” She told him honestly, “I trust everything you say.” She spoke quickly, nearly making him feel bad. Billy sighed deeply as he imagined how neatly her lips would fit against his own. He didn’t press it too far, fearing that he’d upset her. 

“Lay down.” He told her softly, lightly gripping her hands as she laid back on the pew in his office. She looked up at him shyly, still holding onto his hands as she got herself comfortable. Billy bit down on his bottom lip, enjoying how good she looked right now. 

“Like this?” She asked quietly as she leaned up on her elbows to watch him. He grinned sweetly at her, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through his body as his fingertips curled around the band of her panties.

“Just like that,” Billy encouraged her as he slowly slid her white panties down her slender legs. He bit back his own groan, his mind swirling at the appearance of a wet spot on her clothing. He had an urge to teach her everything, to show her what she was missing out on, “You look so perfect.” He whispered hotly.

“Do I pray?” She asked softly, looking over at him confused. He drew his hands up and down the length of her body, savoring the feeling of her skin against her own. He blinked roughly as he looked down at her. 

“You can,” Billy reassured her as he pressed his lips against the corner of her knee, “Whatever makes you feel better.” He reassured her, hoping that she didn’t question how this would bring her closer to God. 

“Okay,” She replied shakily as she sat up a bit further, pulling the rosary from her neck. He watched with interest, watching the way she linked the beads through her fingers, “Thank you Father.” She mumbled underneath her breath.

“I need that,” He told her urgently, scooting a little closer as he slowly slid his hands up the length of her pale body, “I’ll give it back.” He reassured her with a small smile. She nodded her head, still holding some shyness within her eyes. 

“Whatever you need, Father.” She gulped, looking like she wanted to cover herself up and hide away. He thought it was silly. She was too pretty to hide away. 

He held the rosary lightly above her skin, letting the bottom of the cross slowly drag against her pale skin. He looked in fascination, enjoying the way goosebumps spread across her skin. He drew his eyes up her body, groaning softly at the sight of her nipples hardening in the cool air. 

He drew the cross down further and further until he was met with her exposed pussy. He enjoyed the small tufts of red hair and how pink her clit and folds were. He felt a smirk forming on his lips as she gasped as he slowly dragged the cross against her cunt. 

He watched in awe, his eyes widening in as the rosary beads dragged along her wet folds. He licked his bottom lip, feeling his cock throbbing painfully against his thigh as her soft moans filled his office. He drifted his eyes up her pale body, enjoying the soft freckles that were splattered across her body.

“You’re stunning, Sister Kim,” Billy breathed out, his eyes dilated in lust. He licked the corner of his lips as he tightened the rosary in his hands and slowly dragged it near her clit. She sighed in awe, taking him by surprise as he shot his eyes up towards her, “So pretty.” He mumbled, taking in the way her pouty lips were parted and his eyebrows were knitted together. 

Billy gripped his fingers across the cross, pressing the smooth back against her clit as he began to grind it into soft circles. She moaned a little louder, her heels digging into his thighs as she urged him a little closer. He huffed loudly, desperate to feel her against his cock. He held himself back, knowing he should take it slow and enjoy her.

“Have you ever done this before?” He asked her hotly, his mind feeling fuzzy as he enjoyed the pleasure that was written across her features. Kim whined against his touch, rolling her hips up against the cross slowly. 

“Prayed, Father?” She looked at him curiously, knitting her eyebrows together. He chuckled softly, enjoying the gasp that left her lips after. 

“Touched yourself,” He grinned mischievously, watching the alarm that grew in her eyes, “Don’t be worried. This is between you and I.” He promised her, knowing that there was no way he’d share this information with anyone else. 

“No, Father,” She whined out softly as she began to grind her hips up against the cross, “Never.” She said in awe, moaning a little louder. He grunted softly as he pressed the cross harder against her clit, admiring the way her hips moved a little faster. 

“Mhm,” Billy hummed in response, enjoying the way her slick was coating his fingertips, “You’ve never had any thoughts? Fantasies?” He pestered her, desperate to know everything she’d ever thought of. He wondered if she’d ever thought of him, nearly prayed for it. 

“No,” She gasped, her teeth snagging her bottom lip as he slowly circled one of his fingers against her entrance. He didn’t fully push into her, too worried that she wouldn’t be able to handle it. He wanted her to enjoy herself first, “Never.”

“You’re such a good girl, Sister Kim,” He praised her, enjoying the way she was slowly becoming undone underneath him, “Does it feel good?” He teased her as he continued to rub the cross in slow circles. Her hips were rolling forward, rocking against the movements of his hand. 

“Really good,” She cried out, jerking her hips forward in awe. She dragged her nails against the wooden pew, whining as her movements became more sporadic, “Oh God, God!” She cried out, her eyebrows knitting together tightly as she came undone underneath him.

He breathed out harshly, his eyes dilated as he stared down at the mess on his fingertips and her rosary. Her chest was moving up and down as she tried to catch her breath, one of her wrists resting across her reddened forehead.

She peaked down at him in embarrassment, looking like she wanted to say something but quickly fell silent as he brought the rosary to his lips. He licked away her slick, tasting her against his tongue. He closed his eyes, swirling his tongue across the clit as he licked the remnants of her cum from the rosary.

“Father-?” She began to question, but was quickly silenced again as he pressed his hard cock up against the back of her thigh. She fluttered her eyelashes up at him, looking up innocently as he slowly began to rut against her soft skin.

He felt himself throbbing in his pants, desperate to get some part of her skin against his. He almost couldn’t handle her big hazel eyes that held so much innocence and nativity. Despite that, she looked like she was full of questions and lust.

“I need you to do something for me now.”

“Okay,” She answered quickly as her eyes traveled to his fingers. He slowly undid his pants, pushing them down just enough to free his cock from his pants. He watched the way her eyes widened, how she looked at him unsure, “I haven’t ever-,” She cut herself off again, apparently very speechless this afternoon. 

“It’s nothing like that,” He told her again, “Just your hand.” He mumbled as he wrapped his fingers with hers. She looked at him with hazy eyes, her lips parting again as he slowly wrapped her hand around his cock.

He sighed in relief, accidentally jerking his hips forward too harshly at how smooth and soft her hand felt against him. He groaned, doing whatever he could to keep himself calm as he slowly stroked himself with her hand. 

“Like this?” She asked worriedly, looking like she feared that he’d say no. He nodded his head, his air hot against his lips as he throbbed in her hand. He looked down at how big he appeared in her small hand, his red tip leaking onto her wrist.

“Just like that,” He groaned in response, slowly releasing her hand so she could take over the motions completely. He gripped a hold of her knees, keeping her balanced as he stared down at her. Her eyes were turned down towards his cock, staring at him lustfully as she slowly dragged her palm up and down the length of his cock, “You’re doing so good.” He praised her as his breath burned roughly inside of his lungs. 

She squeezed his cock a little harder, looking up at him with hooded eyes. He grunted louder, fighting to keep his eyes open so he could fully admire her. He heaved forward, rutting his cock against her hand. She was watching his dick with interest, her eyes full of curiosity as she moved her hand a little harder.

She dragged her hand a little rougher, stroking him as she twisted her hand up towards his tip. Billy couldn’t drag his eyes away from her, too focused on her red cheeks at parted lips. He admired her dark eyebrows, how her thick eyelashes blinked every few seconds.

“Kim,” He breathed out roughly, feeling his chest tightening as the pleasure began to sprout up his body, “Fuck, fuck.” He spit out, grunting loudly as he thrusted his hips forward one last time. Her eyes were wide, looking like she was about to chastise him for his choice of words.

Thick, white goops of cum spilled out from his cock. He groaned in awe, pressing roughly against the back of her thighs as his spunk decorated her stomach and chest. He felt too warm, his body still buzzing in pleasure as he let his hands continue to wander up her body.

“Father,” Kim breathed out softly, breaking him from his thoughts, “Should I confess?”

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 15. The greatest

Previous chapter

Masterlist

Hi :)

Whatever is Pietro so upset about?

 Things are coming to a head for Pietro and Nadia, big things coming in the very near future! <33

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Nightmares, Nadia totally isn't in denial, arguing, so so much tension, Pietro and Nadia in general, just kiss already smh.

“So basically, they’re all like super rich kids who go to this school, and those two main girls were best friends, but Blair’s boyfriend is in love with Serena and Blair’s mom likes Serena better so there’s tension.” I watched Pietro with raised eyebrows as he spoke animatedly about the show, explaining in great detail the main plot to me. “Then there’s Dan who also likes Serena but he’s not in their group and he’s not rich like the others, but his sister is friends with Blair, kind of.” His eyes looked brighter today or maybe it was just the glow of the TV reflecting off of him. I’d been so entranced by the curve of his jaw and the sound of his voice that I’d been seated beside him for God knows how long now.

A small smile tugged at my lips. “Why did Serena leave?”

“Because she slept with Nate, Blair’s boyfriend.”

I shook my head. “Enthralling, really.”

He smirked at me. “It is.”

“This show sounds completely fucking ridiculous.”

“That’s what makes it so good!” Pietro responded, throwing a handful of nuts into his mouth. “I was sure I’d figured it out, but now I’m starting to think I was wrong.”

“Who the fuck cares who gossip girl is!” He was positively giggling at me now.

I rolled my eyes but was unable to stop the smile from overtaking my expression. It was strange to see him so excited about something so silly. The sound of heels clicking against the smooth floors caught my attention, when I glanced over my shoulder a large smile spread across my lips as I took in the familiar dark-haired woman before me. “Hello, stranger.” I was on my feet in but a moment, Pietro’s head whipping around to see what I was looking at.

“Anna!” I crossed the space between us quickly, allowing her to wrap me in her warm embrace. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.” The smile seemed permanently etched on my features.

“Well, I have a few days before my next assignment and wanted to see your face.” She let go of me and surveyed me, the way a mother would her child. Then her eyes slipped beyond my face to the silver-haired man on the couch and the TV in front of him. The corners of her lips tugged upward as she met my gaze once more. “Are you watching Gossip Girl? Haven’t you already seen it like a hundred times, Nads?”

My cheeks instantly grew warm, and I saw Pietro’s head swing toward me at an alarming speed. I scoffed, shaking my head as I attempted to play nonchalant. Pietro’s entire expression lit up and his mouth fell open as he pointed at me. “You little liar.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen this before.”

“Yeah right! You just like hearing me talk.”

I rolled my eyes, turning back to Anna and setting her with a glare.

“Whatever is happening between the two of you… I like it.” Anna told me as we sat down at the island bench in the kitchen. The look I gave her had a beaming smile spreading across her lips. “As much as I would love to delve so much further into you and Pietro, unfortunately, this isn’t strictly a social call.” The shift in her voice had me sitting up straighter, I knew her well enough to notice the slightest change in her demeanor. Right now, it was evident to me that she was genuinely concerned about whatever she was going to tell me. “MI6 have been looking into a string of assassinations in Europe, we believe it’s linked to a militia group, but we don’t actually have any proof. I’m not supposed to disclose anything specific until you agree to act as the United States representative in the case.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “How very mysterious. If I agree?”

“You’d be flying to Amsterdam in next week to begin recon on a key player.”

“A militia group in Amsterdam? What do they do, smoke joints and ride bikes away from their assassinations?”

Anna’s face twitched as she attempted to remain composed. “They’re not based there. We want you to look into the CEO of a tech company, Tara Janssen, we think she’s stumbled onto something big and is planning on selling it, likely to the militia group. If that’s her intention whatever she’s selling needs to be intercepted immediately.”

I wasn’t particularly concerned about the tech company nor the woman in charge who upon my Google search turned out to be a camera-shy young woman who certainly didn’t strike me as some kind of evil mastermind hacker. However, the general air around Anna and the way she spoke about the case had me questioning my initial beliefs. That is why I agreed to go to Amsterdam and help MI6 with their investigation, even when Anna informed me that they wanted to send me with backup… backup in the form of one Pietro Maximoff. I swallowed down the feelings that nagged at me and the large bright warning signs that flashed through my mind and agreed to this as well. Friends; that is what we had agreed on. Friends did not try to cut each other out of missions. Everything would be fine, we’d been getting along lately, sparring was fine, as was life in the compound. We could share a hotel room for a week without killing each other or repeating any extremely insane lapses of judgment. Yes, I was sure we would be fine. I continued to repeat this mantra in my head over the coming days, in training, at mealtimes, before bed.

Once I was asleep, I didn’t have to think about it because there was plenty to occupy my mind and dreams. At the forefront was the bespectacled man with the syringe. Each night when I closed my eyes, I was greeted by images of him, the music from the ballet was always ringing through my ears as he adjusted my binds and injected me with the undisclosed liquid. Some nights, however, it was different. Some nights I found myself in the sunshine walking along that unfamiliar city street, trying to catch up with the boy in the backpack. Even when I took to a run, I couldn’t catch up to him, I wasn’t sure why I so desperately wanted to. When I was awake it made no sense to me, but in my dreams, there was this peculiar feeling in my chest, a magnetism that propelled me toward the boy.

The wind twirled around my plaits, dancing across the expanse of my flesh and dusting over my cheeks as I returned to the street. I closed my eyes this time, listening to the sounds that surrounded me, trying to find something, anything to explain what I was seeing and why. At first, there was nothing, complete silence, but then, slowly I began to hear. At first it was the faint chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. I listened harder and the sounds grew louder, footsteps bounced off of the pavement echoing in my ears, prompting me to open my eyes. A shoulder was the first thing I saw, he wore a dark blue sweatshirt, and the corner of a flannel shirt peeked out at me. I wanted to look at his face but my eyes remained trained along his shoulder. When my eyes finally shifted,  the white top he wore beneath his flannel was revealed. Two beakers with different colored liquids within them and a speech bubble extending from one.

‘Hey dude, I think you’re overacting!’ It read.

When my eyes finally reached his face, I realized that he was speaking. His eyes were trained on me, but I couldn’t hear him, his lips moved but no sound came out. I listened as hard as I could. It was as though I were watching something on the television, but the sound wasn’t connected. For a moment I could hear his voice, it was muffled, and I couldn’t understand any of the words, but I could hear him and for some bizarre reason, I felt relieved.

It was like this night after night. The boy would speak to me but none of his words resonated with me, yet each night I would stand before him and listen. Until one night, when things were different, his shirt was the same, stupid science joke, flannel, and sweatshirt over the top. But this time I heard him better, not completely but certain words made it through.

‘Pizza, the kind with the super stringy cheese.’ … ‘not supposed to fill up before dinner.’ …

Then there was something else, a single sentence that would stick to me like glue in my waking hours. Before I could dwell the man in glasses was back, but this time he had the syringe to the boy’s neck.

I lurched from my bed, sweat beading on my forehead. My heart was racing a million miles a minute, thumping against my chest. I pressed my palms to my head, running my fingers through my hair and taking a deep breath.

Cold seeped into my limbs as I walked toward the kitchen, stretching my arms over my head as I went. I sipped from my glass of ice water like a traveler who’d just spent days in the Sahara. The coldness soothed me slightly. A glow emanating from the sitting area caught my attention, the familiar theme song humming through the air. I leaned against the door frame watching Pietro sprawl out on the couch in front of the television. “You really like this show, huh?”

His head whipped around when I spoke, surprise etched across his features, though it quickly shifted into an easy smile. “Rumor has it I’m not the only one.” I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my lips.

“Whatever.” I dropped down onto the couch beside him.

He gasped fakely. “Giving into defeat so easily? What have you done with my Nadia?” I settled further into the seat, stretching my legs out to rest on the small table before us. My eyes fell on him then, he was already looking at me. “It’s late. Couldn’t sleep?”

I nodded gently, looking back to the screen. “You know I actually started watching this show because I struggled to sleep.” He raised his eyebrow at me. “It was a long time ago, they used to play reruns of episodes late at night, I just turned it on for white noise but then all of a sudden I’d watched half a season. It was just so easy.” Silence fell between us then. “It’s stupid I know.”

“It’s not.”

I turned my head toward him, leaning it on the back of the couch. He lay in the same position, face close to mine. “Why are you up?” I asked.

“Nightmare.”

“Same.”

“We’re going to Amsterdam in two days. I’ve never been, have you?”

I nodded. “A long time ago, I don’t really remember it.” His gaze burned into the side of my cheek. “It’ll be nice to get out of the compound for a while though.”

“Even if it’s with me?”

“We’re friends now, Pietro.” I looked over at him again, he wore an unreadable expression.

A hum came from him, followed by a nod. “Very special friends.” He was smirking now. That devious little look that made my skin burn.

“You’re very annoying.”

“Well, you’re the one who wanted to be my friend.”

It was astounding that the intensity of my glare didn’t cause him to burst into flames. “I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do.” He had this uncanny ability to make thinking straight impossible whenever he’d look right at me like he was now.

“What makes you so sure? I hated you once, remember?”

He hummed; we were so close that my air was his air. “No, you didn’t.” Before I could retort he was speaking again. “Not really.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, and my lips upturned very slightly. “You seem sure.”

“I know you, Nadia.” I opened my mouth but once again he beat me to the punch. “Deny it all you want but I do. Unfortunately for you, I see through you. You never hated me.”

“I threw a knife at you when we met, not exactly a gesture of friendship.”

He reached forward, dusting a stray curl from my eyes. “Hm, I think you knew I’d catch it; I think you were just playing coy.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are delusional, Pietro Maximoff.” His smile only grew. Once again silence fell between us, a comfortable, soothing silence, only filled by the low hum of a pop song playing on the television. We weren’t even watching it anymore.

…

We were leaving for Amsterdam first thing tomorrow. MI6 had sent over their files, and we were prepped to go. Tony and Maria Hill would be here at the compound on the other end of our comms awaiting intel.

I was currently teaching Pietro a selection of different chokeholds and debilitating holds. “Something about the name guillotine chokehold makes me think I don’t want you to demonstrate it on me.”

A cheeky smile took over my expression as I waved him over toward me. “You’ll be fine. Have I ever hurt you before?”

His eyes became the size of dinner plates then. “Yes!” He spoke disbelievingly.

“Stop being a baby, this won’t hurt.”

I moved toward him, gesturing for him to take up a defensive stance, when he was ready, I took hold of the back of his head. His hair was soft and a little damp from sweat but I didn’t mind. “Are you sure this is a fighting pose?” I chuckled, moving swiftly to bring his head under my arm while the other slid around it to lock him in. He made a sound of discomfort, before I dropped onto my backside, bringing him down on top of me and locking my ankles behind his back to trap him in my tight hold. He tapped immediately and I let him go, laughing at his expression of indignation. “It should not be so easy for you to do that.” He moved back to his feet quickly pulling me up with him. “Show me how.”

It was a simple maneuver, one that he picked up quite quickly. Or at least he partially got it. “You’re not going to choke me out like that,” I spoke nonchalantly, completely unfazed by his weak hold on my neck. “You’re not gripping in the right place and your guard is wide open.”

“My guard is not op-” Before he could finish, I’d slipped from his grip and put him on his back. “That was incredibly rude and plus if I choked you out, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your incessant taunting.”

“Get off your ass,” I spoke walking back to the center of the mat. “You’re getting it, but you need to put pressure on the carotid artery to send someone unconscious.”

Pietro raised an eyebrow at me. “What am I a doctor? How the hell would I know where the carotid artery is?” His words and the frustration evident in them had my smile growing.

“It’s in your neck.”

“Great. Very helpful, sensei.”

My cheeks hurt from grinning. I took a few steps forward, looking down at his hand that hung idly at his side. It was a few long moments before I did anything. Pietro watched my every movement intently, not daring to glance away for even a second as I took ahold of his hand, situating it between both of mine to fold his fingers down so only two remained standing. Slowly I brought his hand toward myself, one hand sliding down to sit around his wrist whilst the other remained atop his as I pressed his fingers to the side of my neck, just below my ear. He did not speak a word as I dragged his finger along the flesh of my neck above the artery. I took a long, deep breath. His eyes glanced between mine and the hand that lingered on my skin, even after I let my hands drop back to my sides. “That’s the carotid artery.” My words came out as a mere murmur, quiet and soft; gentle. The way his fingertips felt as they slid across my collarbone dipping just a few centimeters lower before they dropped from my body.

The feeling of his fingers made my skin burn as if he’d branded me. I felt all day. Even on our flight to Amsterdam, a deep tingling warmth settled across my skin, the phantom of his touch. He’d been quiet, unusually so and it was beginning to put me on edge. The silence was sending me insane. It was completely unlike him to let me hear myself think. The truth was, I wanted him to talk, because when I was focused on him, I wasn’t thinking about the images that plagued my sleeping mind, the words that the young boy had spoken to me in my dreams. I assured myself that was the only reason I wanted him to speak.

The room was nice, spacious, and the beds were plush; even better, there were two of them. No more sharing, no more forced proximity to my companion who’d spoken a total of two words to me since we arrived.

“Is something wrong?”

He grunted out something that sounded akin to the word no.

“Convincing.” Still, he didn’t speak, instead, he opened his suitcase and began searching through it. Not even offering me a glance. “You know what, it’s good that you don’t want to talk about it. I’m glad because I don’t want to hear about it.” I turned away from him as I spoke the words, grabbing the file from my bag and walking to the next room to look over it. There really wasn’t much point, I already knew it like the back of my hand. We stayed this way for hours, in separate rooms, neither of us daring to speak a word to each other. I didn’t understand what was wrong with him, he’d been in a mood since we finished training yesterday.

As soon as his touch began to fade, I’d blink and feel it all over again. I clenched my hand into a fist, shaking my head. That was enough, the thoughts would stop because I would will them to. Just as I had with the memories of my dreams. The boy had been back each night, the same half-muted conversation, garbled words that were almost impossible to understand, and one phrase that sent a shiver down my spine. My phone buzzed on the table drawing my attention. An address and a time sent by Tony, followed by a message from Natasha that had me gritting my teeth.

‘Be safe… use protection.’

I slammed my phone face down onto the table. “We should eat something,” I said, re-entering the bedroom. Pietro didn’t even glance up at me. I softened my tone; slightly. “Room service?”

“I don’t know… sure, that sounds fine… I guess.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him, he still hadn’t looked at me. “Well, as long as you’re sure.”

The look on his face told me he did not appreciate my sarcasm, yet he didn’t say a word. He continued to stare down at his phone.

“Okay, enough! What is your problem?”

His head whipped up, finally meeting my gaze. “Are you serious?!” I narrowed my eyes at him. Pure exasperation was evident across his expression. “You, Nadia. You are my problem.”

I was enraged that his words struck me the way they did, made me feel something; something entirely unpleasant and wholly sickening. “What did I do?” My tone was cold, yet there was something small beneath the shield of indifference. Something trembling and hurt.

He was on his feet then, pacing the floor beside his bed. “You can’t seriously not know what I mean.”

“Most of what you say is nonsense, it cannot be surprising to you that sometimes I’m a little lost.” I could almost feel his anger from the other side of the room, it was palpable. Part of me was thrilled by it, part of me ached to keep prodding him, keep poking the proverbial bear. So, I did. “Well, are you going to say something? I’m on the edge of my seat here, really, you know how I love hearing your grievances.”

His glare almost had a laugh bubbling in my throat. Then, suddenly it dissolved into a mask of cool indifference. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

I was taken aback by his sudden shift, even his tone had changed. It was honestly a little impressive. “Not a chance, you started this, so finish it. Air your grievances, Pietro, tell me what’s got you so riled up.”

“We’re not talking about this now.” My eyebrows shot up at the tone he took with me. Bold.

“Oh, you’re telling me what we are and are not going to talk about? Is that what’s happening right now?”

He’d crossed the room in a few long strides. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” His tone remained. “Are you going to tell me, Nadia? I know you have a plan, you’re nothing if not calculated.

I smiled at him, no doubt in my mind that the look was chilling. Amusement evident on my face. “You’re being a prick right now, it’s a little funny, but you should probably stop.”

“Is that what I should do?”

“If you know what’s good for you it is.”

His jaw clenched. “Tell me what the fucking plan is, Nadia.” His voice stayed even, not raised, same cold tone. There was fire in his eyes.

“Ask me one more time.”

He did.

My hands were fisted at my side. I had no clue what was going on right now. My body was so tightly strung I felt ready to explode, rage and something entirely different simmered in my belly, urging me to move toward him.

“I’ll pretend to be a new waitress at the coffee shop Tara Janssen frequents. You’ll pretend to be a customer. The plan tomorrow is the same as it will be every day for the next week, we will watch her and take notes.”

“So, what I sit around for a week and hope she accidentally tells us she’s a criminal mastermind?”

“You’ll sit down, shut up, and eat a fucking pastry until I tell you to stop. Is that clear enough?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and turning away from me. “And you say I’m a prick.” Before I could even process what I was doing I was less than a pace from him and shoving him hard. He spun sharply on his heel to face me; disbelief evident on his face. “Very mature.” I went to push him again, but he caught my arm before I could, yanking me forward in the process. My chest was flush with his and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop my eye from dropping to his lips for just a moment. Before anything else happened, I yanked myself from his grip, turning away from him immediately.

“Stop now. That’s the plan, it’s going to be a long week, so just get some sleep. Lose the attitude too.” Before he could say anything else I’d stormed to the bathroom.

Our first day undercover had been much the same. A cold quiet breakfast where Pietro barely acknowledged me, a long boring day serving coffees and bugging the CEO’s phone. I’d been issued with a wig and glasses to complete my persona. Code name: Emma Salsberry, English university student studying abroad. It was an easy character; one I could play in my sleep. When we’d returned to the hotel, I’d set up our listening equipment on the dining table, lots of fancy tech things that would emit recordings caught from the target’s cellphone. Tony had explained it to me, but I hadn’t really been listening. Pietro dropped down onto the couch as I began to listen to the audio. MI6’s intel said she was supposed to be having a meeting at the coffee shop on Thursday. I spent hours there, listening intently to the CEO talk about menial things, it was endlessly dull.

“Why do we think that she’s guilty again?”

The first hint of normalcy from him. My head shot up at the sound of his voice, relief bathing over me at his perfectly regular tone. I shrugged. “Apparently, she stumbled upon something she shouldn’t have. I don’t know, MI6 are very cryptic.”

He nodded and then there was silence again. It was beginning to eat at me, the sound of the clock on the wall gnawing at my brain. Eventually, I could take no more and I stood to go take a shower.

“I’m sorry that I called you a prick.” These were the first words out of my mouth when I emerged from the steam filled bathroom, toweling at my hair as I went.

“It’s okay I was acting like one.”

Even in his acknowledgement his words were still cold, distant. They sounded nothing like him. “Please tell me why you’re so mad at me.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, sending me a solitary glance over his shoulder. “I do not understand how you don’t know why I’m mad.”

I clenched my hands into fists, rage coursing through my veins. The anger management exercises were not helping so I stormed into the next room, however, it was only a mere moment before I lost control and stormed right back into the living area. “Because it comes easily to you!” I exclaimed, causing his head to whip in my direction. Shock written across his expression at my outburst. “All of this-” I waved my arms between the two of us. “It comes easily to you, so of course you do not understand. It does not come easily to me.”

“What are you talking about, Nadia?”

“I never learnt how to feel things! I learnt where the major arteries are, how long it takes someone to bleed out. There was nothing but the mission in the Red Room, that is all we were for, killing and completing the mission. For the majority of my life that is all I knew. Nothing else mattered, not emotions or these menial rules of politeness. I do not know how to feel things like normal people, and yes, I am aware that irrespective of this I do feel things.” I recalled Natasha’s words as I spoke. “But I do not understand my feelings, and understanding how other people feel is an entirely different problem. I don’t know when I’ve hurt someone, I can gather when they’re mad at me. It’s the why that I struggle with. I know that I’ve done something to hurt you, but please don’t ask me to guess how because that I can’t do.”

He looked at his feet for a moment before meeting my eyes, his were a fraction softer than before. “I know. I’m sorry that I was mean to you, but I don’t want to talk about this now.”

I nodded, fiddling with my fingers. “Fine we won’t talk… but you don’t get to keep treating me like shit, at least not while we’re on this mission.”

He agreed, a single firm nod of his head accompanied his verbal confirmation. I wasn’t entirely satisfied but at least we’d be able to get this done without killing each other… potentially.

[creepling]

Hiiii!!!!! please please pleaseeeeeee keep writing for sammy fabelman😭 (pref gender neutral or male reader) maybe meeting his parents and family for the first time? also please tag me in any sammy writings i love them!!!!!

remember to drink water!! <3

gif cred: @manderley

ask and you shall receive!

meeting the fabelmans - headcanon (gn!reader)

sammy would speak low of his family, not in a nasty way, just because he knows that his family will 100% embarrass him.

mitzi will show you embarrassing baby photos. his sisters will ask you intrusive questions, and burt will ask if you're up-to-date with the news on computing science and bore you to death.

but the biggest worry was the family secret - he hasn't told you yet. how can he introduce his parents to the love of his life when their own marriage is falling apart?

you, on the other hand, were estatic to meet sam's family.

if you're jewish, you'd find comfort in meeting another family just like your own; as sammy is the only other jewish person in the school.

if you're not jewish, it's not a concern; the fablemans have no quarrems with that kind of thing, and that's all that matters.

mitzi would suggest going on another camping trip, using the bonding moments to get to know you and let you see what activities they like to do as a family

burt, however, suggests just inviting you over for dinner; not to get you too overwhelmed. "nothing beats good company while eating a nice meal."

ultimately it's up to sammy how he'd like to introduce you, and ends up going with the dinner option.

"at least it's easier to run off from a dinner table than the middle of a forest" his excuse was.

you ask "what makes you think i wanna run off?"

"not you, per say. was thinking more me running away, to save me any embarrassment"

you try your best to make a good first impression

wearing your best clothes, polished your shoes, got your mum to bake a cake as a gift.

sammy insisted you didn't need the cake, so when you arrived with it in hand, you felt a bit foolish.

but as mitzi opened the door, and her face lit up at the sight of you (glimpsing the cake) you felt less nervous.

you're welcomed with open arms. literally. the minute burt took the cake with thanks, mitzi engulfed you into a hug.

"you never told me they were so handsome/pretty, sammy" she says

sammy rolls his eyes "yeah, forgot to mention that obvious bit of information"

everytime sam makes a sarcastic remark, you shoot him a stare like "chill out, ok?" and he tries to calm his nerves.

the fabelmans took their turn in talking with you.

you chat with reggie and natalie while mitzi cooks, chuckling at the cheeky remarks they make about there brother

"we never thought he would date anyone!" they both giggled.

"fun fact, it was actually me that spoke to him first, he was so shy" you told.

their giggles grow in volume, "that's no surprise!"

sammy sinks lower in his seat. wishing he could disappear.

like sam guessed, when you all sit at the table and grab servings, burt asks you questions about school; what you're studying, what job you want to persue, do you think about going to college, etc.

you tell him about your ambitions, and he seems impressed.

he talks rambling about computing science, telling you how it'll kick off in the next decade, and it's a good profession to get in.

"they don't wanna do that stuff, dad," sammy sighs.

"no no no, keep going mr. fabelman, it sounds really interesting"

you genuinely are interested, seeing a father be so excited about something. but you also wanted to playfully nudge sammy, knowing it'll annoy him.

you talk to benny also, erupting in laughter at his silly stories and bent-double jokes.

sammy seems a little tense when you talk to him, but you try to shrug it off.

if only you knew what was really going on.

finally, mitzi has her moment to shine with you. you gives you random compliments, getting and giddy and saying "oh my boy is so lucky!" and it makes you blush.

after dinner she goes to her piano and asks you your favourite song. the family chant about how talented she is at piano, and you're eager to listen.

"i really like that one song on the radio, oh i can't mind the name..."

"i know exactly which one it is!"

mitzi stretches her fingers and begins to play. you know it immediately, looking to sammy with a smile. he smiles back, glad to see you happy.

by the evening, you thank the fabelmans for the wonderful meal, and expressed how you genuinely enjoyed yourself.

they welcomed you so fluently, it was a surprise. you were gratified by their generousity and kindness.

"you're welcome anytime," they say, insisting sammy to bring you every weekend.

sammy begins to walk you home, growing silent. he lets out a distressed sigh.

"wasn't so bad, was it?" you say.

"surely you get that most of that was all a front," sammy rolls his eyes.

"and what? all families have their skeletons in the closet. my family has a chest full of them!"

sammy stops in his tracks, staring in a cautious matter, as if he wanted to tell you a secret. you grew worried.

"there's stuff you don't know, okay? and... i'm just not ready to tell them. one day i'll tell you, but right now, i feel like i can't tell anyone, like i have to die with this secret."

you could almost feel the weight on his shoulders. your eyes grew in sympahy.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and planted a kiss on his lips, him reacting swiftly and returning the favour; your embrace soothing him.

you pulled away, looked into his eyes, and say "you can tell me when you're ready, i'm here for you; always,"

sam smiles, appreciative of your gentle sympathy. he walks you the rest of the way home, holding your hand in his.

[rubysunnday]

Favourite brother - Part 2

A/N: well, part one went down surprisingly well! 

“So, Daphne is now a duchess...”

Y/N raised her eyebrows expectantly at her brother, waiting for him to finish his comment. She looked back down at her embroidery and poked the needle through the fabric. “And?”

Colin leant forward in his chair. “Perhaps, now, the ton will be watching you.”

Y/N let out a unladylike snort. “Oh, please. As long as Miss Thompson is around and as long as Daphne and Simon are in their ‘newlywed’ bliss, I will always be the wallflower of the family.”

Colin eyed his sister with a sad gaze. He didn’t miss the way she stabbed her needle through the fabric a little harder than necessary nor the way she practically glowered at Anthony (probably hoping he would spontaneously combust). 

“Colin, I can feel you staring at me,” Y/N said, looking up from her embroidery to give her brother a level stare. “What is it?” “You truly don’t believe you are worth anything, do you?”

Y/N paused, needle halfway through the fabric. She slowly pushed it through, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes.

Colin was right. She didn’t see herself as worthy of anything. Compared to Daphne who’d captured the eye of the ton and then a duke and a prince, she’d had nothing. Her three older brothers had always been swarmed with suitors and Y/N had truly believed that, maybe, one day, it would’ve been like that for her.

But apart from an almost marriage to Nigel Berbrooke that was out of spite to her brother and sister and was unwanted by her, she had had no proposals and no suitors.

A fact she wanted to blame Anthony for but that Y/N knew was down to nothing more than bad luck. 

If she’d made her debut a year later it would’ve been the same story. Everyone would’ve been captivated by Eloise and she would’ve been forgotten. Or everyone would’ve been terrified of Eloise and been forced to look at Y/N.

Either or.

When you were a twin of someone who excelled in everything you didn’t, it was easy to be overlooked and forgotten - especially in a family of nine. 

But up until she and Daphne came of age, she hadn’t felt overlooked. She’d felt loved and seen as an equal to her brothers. Anthony hadn’t been so protective (He'd always been protective of them all. But compared to how Benedict was when someone upset or threatened his family, Anthony was a saint.). 

Everyone fawned over Daphne when she began courting Simon - and rightfully so. But Y/N’s prospects and potential suitors had become nothing more than polite conversation between her and her ladies maid. 

“Y/N?”

Y/N inhaled sharply and jumped slightly at Colin’s voice. She looked over at him and gave him a somewhat unconvincing smile. “I’m fine. I just feel somewhat underwhelming compared to my sister,” she replied, turning her eyes back to her embroidery. 

Which was beginning to look less and less like a violet and more like an oddly shaped duck. 

Colin, sensing his sister wasn’t in the mood to be proved wrong, left the conversation there. He also didn’t want to end up with a sewing needle in his eye - the chances of which were becoming increasingly likely the more he poked and prodded. 

It was a beautiful ballroom.

There were candles in every window and garlands of flowers draped across the walls with petals dashed across the floor. 

The garden was a lit with numerous furnaces and torches that blazed in the summer night and the fountain set in the centre of the sprawling, immaculate hedges and flowers trickled away.

None of the beauty, however, was making Y/N feel any better about being left out of yet another ball.

She’d been standing on the sidelines watching ever since she’d arrived. Benedict had offered to dance with her but Y/N hadn’t wanted to be mentioned in Lady Whistledown for dancing with no one but her own brothers so had declined the invitation.

Instead she chose to stand and watch the beautiful couples dance around the room as she sulked and drank yet another glass of lemonade. 

“Why are you skulking back here?” Anthony asked, approaching his sister with a confused, concerned and curious expression.

Y/N swallowed the rather large gulp of lemonade she’d taken and tried not to give her brother a glare. “No one’s asked me to dance.”

“I’m sure Colin -”

“That is not the point, Anthony!” Y/N exclaimed, cutting him off. “I’ve had no one to dance with apart from my brother’s and Simon, who is now my brother too!” She almost growled but remembered that half the ton were around and forced herself to calm down. “Daphne has been the centre of everyone’s attention and had the suitors falling at het feet. I thought that now she’s married, they’d look to me - but apparently no one settles for second best.” 

Anthony stared at his sister. “Y/N, you’re not second best to anyone.”

Y/N scoffed. She set her empty lemonade glass down, slightly worried she was going to through it at her brother’s head. “Then why haven’t you looked at me twice all season, Anthony? You walked off at my very first ball, leaving me to flounder. You never escorted me - not even tonight! You have, so far, not cared about who comes calling for me - which was no one, by the way - and you don’t care that I have had no suitors, no callers and no proposals!”

She was breathing fast and could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was angry. She was so angry and even though most of the anger was at the ton for being so vain, she couldn’t very well direct it at a ballroom full of people.

Instead she directed it at her older brother, the one who should’ve looked out for her and guided her through her first season in society but didn’t.

Anthony, for once, had the decency to look hurt by his sister’s accusations. He had a broken look on his face as he realised she was right and that he’d ignored  her. He was stunned into silence.

But Y/N hadn’t want pitiful silence, she’d wanted an argument - for Anthony to get angry at her and prove her wrong but also right.

“Say something!” Y/N snapped, glaring at Anthony. 

 Benedict and Colin had noticed the, somewhat heated argument, and were trying to weave their way through the crowd to intervene before one of them snapped and punched the other.

Anthony opened his mouth and closed it again. He was speechless - a rare feat, indeed.

Y/N scoffed and shook her head. “Fine.”

She turned on her heel and disappeared through the crowd, heading towards the door to the garden. 

Benedict and Colin made it to Anthony’s side and frowned.

“What was that all about?” Benedict asked, looking at Anthony expectantly. 

Anthony swallowed and forced himself to look at his brother. “She hates me.”

Colin, who had sensed the argument was coming, put a hand on Anthony’s arm. “No, she doesn’t. She’s angry at the world and the expectations society place on her shoulders. All she really wants, Anthony, is you.”

“I’ve ignored her almost this entire season,” Anthony said, staring at Colin. “How...”

“There’s still a few weeks left of the season, though,” Colin reminded him. He gestured to the door that Y/N had fled through. “Go on.”

Anthony didn’t need anymore encouragement, he brushed past his brother’s and all but marched through the crowd towards the door. 

Y/N had disappeared out onto the fire lit terrace of the house and was leaning on the stone bannister, trying to calm down. 

She loved her brother. Truly, she did. She also knew that he would never do anything to ruin her prospects intentionally.

That didn’t, however, stop her from wanting to throttle him. 

“Y/N?”

Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled. She could feel Anthony watching her and heard his footsteps approaching closer as he walked up to her. 

“Are you alright?” 

There was concern - genuine concern - in his voice. Y/N was usually good at keeping her emotions together and not breaking down until she was either with her mother or on her own.

But all it took was Anthony’s concerned question and a gentle hand on her shoulder for her to lose any control she’d had.

Y/N felt the tears drip down her face and turned to Anthony, practically throwing her arms around him and clinging on to him as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat. 

Slightly surprised by her sudden change in emotion, it took Anthony a moment to catch-up with the fact his sister was sobbing in to his arms and needed, not Lord Bridgerton, but her big brother. 

Anthony wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed, waiting for her to speak.

Y/N eventually managed to get control of her emotions again and she stepped away from Anthony, wiping her eyes as delicately as she could to avoid ruining her make-up.

“Sorry.”

“Never apologise for being human,” Anthony said softly, sitting next to her on a bench. 

Y/N sighed. “I’m just... compared to Daphne I am nothing. No one has even looked twice at me this entire season. I’m her sister and nothing more.”

Anthony put a hand on her knee. “Do you truly believe that?” He asked, looking her in the eye.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. All I wish is for someone, anyone, to look at me and call on me because they like me. Not because they wanted an easy way to my sister or to you or to Eloise or to anyone who isn’t me!” 

“Y/N, you are a wonderful young lady and if those men can’t see it -”

“Then they’re not worth my time, I know,” she said, shooting Anthony an amused smile. “You sound like Benedict.”

“I believe you meant that Benedict sounds like me, he did come second after all,” Anthony quipped.

Y/N smacked her brother on the arm. She shook her head with a smiles she tried not to laugh. 

“Come on,” Anthony said, standing up and holding a hand out to her. “Will you do me the honour of a dance, Miss Bridgerton?”

Y/N took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Of course, Lord Bridgerton.” 

“Excuse me, Miss Bridgerton?” Y/N turned around. A young man, Lord Durrell if she remembered correctly, was standing in front of her looking slightly anxious.

“Yes, Lord Durrell?” Anthony asked, raising his eyebrows in his trademark brooding, older brother way.

“I was wondering if you would do me the honour of a dance this evening?” Durrell asked, looking directly at Y/N.

Y/N smiled and held out the arm that her dance card was on. “Of course, Lord Durrell. After I’ve dance with my brother, of course.”

Lord Durrell smiled and wrote his name on her card. “I look forward to it,” he said, bowing down.

Y/N curtsied slightly in response and watched as he left. She waited a few seconds and then squealed and jumped up and down. 

Anthony chuckled, stepping back to avoid being hit by a flailing limb. “See, I told you.”

“No, you didn't, actually,” Y/N said, taking her brother’s arm. “You just repeated what Benedict said and gave me a hug.”

“Which is just as important.”

“Naturally.”

Anthony led Y/N to the dance floor and the two took up their positions. 

“I don’t say this often enough,” Y/N said as they danced around the room, “but I’m so glad you’re my brother, Anthony.”

Anthony managed to concel his surprise by twirling Y/N around and using the brief moment she wasn’t looking to show his surprise before hiding it again. 

“I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life,” she continued, oblivious. “I just wanted you to know that.”

Anthony nodded and smiled, twirling her around again. 

Later on, however, when he was in his own lodgings away from prying eyes, Anthony looked back on the moment and had to hide his tears in a bottle of whiskey and the mountain of paperwork he had to fulfil. 

[the-lonelybarricade]

I totally stole this from one of those writing prompt blogs, but can you do Rhys and Feyre going to couples therapy together as a joke when they only just met?

Okay my love, I literally just finished writing this and haven't actually proofread it. It was meant to be silly and jokey but ended up being a bit more serious than I intended, but I'm a sucker for fake dating tropes so maybe I'll continue their story at some point. Anyway here's a modern Feyre and Rhys going to couples thereapy together (whilst not actually being a couple):

Feyre was absolutely determined to prove Nesta wrong. Usually her sister’s grating comments didn’t penetrate Feyre’s hardened demeanor at home, but something about their stint yesterday had thoroughly gotten under her skin. Nesta had a talent when it came to barbed words, so it was the casualness with which she’d said Feyre was boring and predictable that had kept the words ringing between Feyre’s ears. They lacked the usual bite and venom that was characteristic of Nesta, and somehow that made them impossibly worse.

Was Feyre a creature of habit? Sure. But she had always been content with her quiet, unassuming life. They’d grown up poor, with little luxury, and as a little girl Feyre had always believed all she’d need to be happy was paint supplies and enough time to get lost in a blank canvas. Feyre had that now, and she was happy. She spent almost every day in her studio, a paintbrush in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. And that was fine. She may not spend a lot of time with other people, but that was fine.

Routine is fine. Being focused on your career is fine. So why did the implication that her life is stagnant rile her up so much?

Feyre couldn’t articulate what, exactly, had bothered her so much, since she was perfectly happy with the current state of her life. Yet the next morning she’d woken up, vowing to take a day off and spend the whole day being entirely unpredictable.

She was going to pull a Jim Carrey in Yes Man. She was going to seize this damn day. And any voice in her mind that pleaded her to stick to her comfort zone was going to be diligently ignored.

When she set out to get her morning coffee, she ducked into the first cafe she came across without checking the reviews. And instead of ordering her usual chai latte, she asked the cashier to make her their favorite drink. She sat at a booth and sipped it experimentally. It was sweet and tasted of caramel; she decided she quite liked it. So far so good.

She sat wondering what brave venture she should do next, something that would be worthy of telling people about. Something so brash and crazy and unexpected Nesta would eat her stupid, truthful words.

“Mind if I take this seat?”

The voice was like smooth velvet. Feyre glanced up to meet a pair of eyes that were such a deep, peculiar shade of blue they almost looked violet. She was momentarily stunned speechless, which caused the impossibly handsome stranger to lift one of his perfectly groomed brows in question.

“Of course,” Feyre answered, her mouth feeling a bit dry. She quickly took a sip of her coffee to quell this strong reaction her body was having to this man.

She’d been expecting him to take the chair to sit elsewhere, but he slid into the chair at her table, directly across from her. Feyre spared a cursory glance around the cafe. Customers milled about, but there were plenty of empty seats strewn here and there. It was far from necessary to share a table with a stranger.

Her interest piqued, Feyre turned her attention back to this strange, alluring man.

“I’m Feyre,” she said, sounding much more confident than she felt. But today was about branching out of her comfort zone. Making the first move with an attractive man certainly qualified.

“Rhysand,” he answered with a charming grin, extending his hand into the space between them. Feyre accepted it with a mirrored smile, for a moment marvelling at the way his hand completely enveloped hers.

Feyre cleared her throat. “So tell me, Rhysand, what brings you to this table in particular?”

The way he wrinkled his nose was unfairly endearing. “Call me Rhys,” he said. “I only really use Rhysand in a business setting. And I chose this table in particular, because I saw a beautiful woman sitting here and was feeling especially forward.”

Feyre laughed in surprise. “Forward, indeed. Well, Rhys, I have spectacular news for you.”

“And what’s that, Feyre darling?” the suggestive tone to his voice sent shivers down her spine and instantly those warning bells in her mind were blaring. This man was too handsome and he was a complete stranger.

“I’ve decided to do something completely stupid and spontaneous today, and you’re officially invited to join me.”

Rhysand grinned, his eyes flickering with mischief at her proposal. She supposed that should be concerning, too, but she felt her pulse quicken. “And what stupid, spontaenous thing will we be doing, darling?”

Feyre leaned back, trying to regain composure by taking a too casual sip of her coffee. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m open to ideas.”

Across the cafe, a man stood up so quickly his chair tipped over with a loud thunk. Rhys and Feyre both whirled their heads at the commotion.

“This is why we need to go to therapy together!” the woman across from him screeched. “You can’t control your stupid temper!”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” he growled. “I’m not going to sit there for an hour so you can manipulate some dumb bitch into agreeing with you!”

“It’s not about sides,” she groaned. “I want to work through this with you!”

Feyre felt a tug of sympathy at the desperation in the woman’s voice. She could feel her pain and frustration second-hand, having been in similar shoes herself.

“Fuck this,” the man grumbled, storming for the door.

The woman followed after him. “Our appointment is in 10 minutes! Please, let’s just try it.”

The door swung shut behind them. Feyre watched the couple continue their walking argument down the city pavement, gesturing wildly with their hands.

Feyre sighed. “Man, that poor woman. It sounded like she really wanted to work things out.”

“That guy sounded like an absolute ass, maybe it’s for the best,” Rhys said. Then, his eyes lit up and he turned to Feyre with a slow, conspiring grin. “It does give me an idea, though.”

“What’s that?” Feyre felt a bit intimidated by the roguish expression on his face, even if it did make her feel breathless.

“Well, I do happen to know there’s a psychiatrist's office right above this cafe. If I had to guess, that’s where our friends were going to have their first session. And from the looks of it,” he nodded towards the couple, who were now striding in opposite directions through the city, faces flushed with anger, “they won’t be attending.”

“And your point is…?”

“Let’s go in their stead. Make a game of it. First person to break character loses.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“Well, if I win, then I get to take you to dinner.”

Feyre considered for a moment. Dinner with a handsome man certainly didn’t sound like losing to her. “If I win, then I get to use you as a model.”

“You’re a photographer?” His brows rose in interest and Feyre summoned all her will power not to blush. Since when was she bashful about her career?

“Painter.”

Rhysand grinned. “If you win, you can use my body anyway you wish, Feyre darling. Nude would be best.”

And that was how Feyre had ended up in Dr. Suriel’s office, Rhys by her side on the sofa. It was perhaps the most adventurous thing she’d ever agreed to.

“So, Mr and Mrs Mandray. Apologies, I didn’t get your names on the forms.”

“I’m Feyre, this is my husband Rhys,” Feyre answered, thinking it lucky they didn’t have to guess at the mysterious couple’s forenames.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Feyre and Rhys. What brings you to my office today?”

Rhys immediately slipped into his role of the concerned husband. He placed his arm around Feyre’s shoulders and tugged her close. Rhys opened his mouth, then shut it, glancing at Feyre hesitantly.

“My wife and I have been getting into a lot of… disagreement lately,” Rhys answered carefully, and already Feyre thought this was going much better than it would have if the actual Mr Mandray had turned up.

“My husband,” Feyre said flatly, channeling her inner Nesta to put venom into the word. “Is insisting on painting our house purple.”

“I see,” Dr. Suriel says, assessing the displeasure on Feyre’s face. “And I’m assuming you want to paint the house a different color.”

Feyre pressed her lips into a thin line. “See, that’s just the problem,” she said, crossing her arms. “That’s exactly the color I would want to paint our house.”

Dr. Suriel frowned. “So you do want the house to be painted purple, as does your husband. Am I understanding that correctly?”

“No,” Feyre sighed. “He wants to paint the house blue, but is insisting we paint it purple, because he knows it’s what I want. This bastard refuses to be anything but accommodating.”

“We’re going to try to refrain from name-calling in my office,” Dr Suriel said calmly. “So, Feyre, you are clearly unhappy that Rhys wants to paint the house purple. What color would you paint it?”

“Blue,” she answered. “I know it’s what he secretly wants to paint it.”

“She doesn’t see the hypocrisy in what she's saying!” Rhys complained. Then, he turned to Feyre, looking impossibly serious. “Darling, I know you want to paint the house purple, and I already told you I’m fine with it.”

Feyre groaned. “I don’t want to paint the house purple! I want to paint it blue.”

“You’re only saying that because you think I want to paint the house blue.”

“Do you?”

Rhys hesitated. “No.”

“Don’t lie in front of our therapist,” Feyre said with narrowed eyes. “We promised to tell the truth while we’re here.”

“Then you tell me the truth, Feyre. Do you genuinely want the house to be painted blue?”

Now it was Feyre’s turn to hesitate. She could see the corner of Rhysand’s mouth twitch as she did so. “No. I mean yes! I do!”

“It sounds like at the heart of this argument, you are both ultimately concerned in pleasing the other person, is that fair to say?”

Feyre and Rhys glanced at each other, then nodded in agreement.

“Do you think there’s a color you could both compromise on, so that you don’t feel as if your partner is the only one making a sacrifice in this decision?”

Feyre met Rhysand’s brilliant violet eyes. In truth, she’d blurted the color purple because she’d been thinking about the color of his eyes. She'd never seen eyes that color, and they were wonderfully vivid. Feyre was lost thinking of painting a world in a monocrhome of violet, like a city that lived within his gaze.

Feyre realized she’d been momentarily swept away, snapped out of it by the humor that washed behind those starry irises. She blinked back the haze and tried to think of an answer to the question.

“Mustard yellow?” she proposed.

Rhys pursed his lips in mock consideration. “Mustard yellow,” he agreed with an emphatic nod of approval.

Dr. Suriel blinked in surprise. “All right, well I’m pleased we could solve that issue. Is there anything else you’ve been arguing about?”

“Yeah, actually. My wife,” Rhys gave Feyre a pointed glance. Somehow, despite being strangers, hearing Rhys refer to her as his wife sent waves of pleasure jolting through her. She felt her stomach flip on itself. “Isn’t satisfied with our sex life.”

Feyre instantly flushed at such an accusation, however fabricated.

“Is this true, Feyre?” Dr. Suriel turned her eyes towards Feyre and she shifted uncomfortably at having to make up stories about her sex life with Rhys. Making Feyre imagine rolling in a bed with him was certainly his goal, and she’d lie to say it wasn’t affecting her. Rhysand looked absolutely delighted to have made her squirm. Fine. Two could play at his game.

“Y-yes, well,” Feyre stuttered, the burning in her cheeks condemning. “I keep telling Rhys that 16 orgasms in a session is excessive. He’s much too generous a lover and he never lets me give as good as I get.”

Feyre felt satisfied with the way Rhysand’s face went crimson.

Dr. Suriel’s brows rose. “This seems to be a common theme in your marriage. Rhysand, would you say that you’re often prioritising Feyre’s desires over your own?”

“I think Feyre sorely underestimates how much pleasure I take from satisfying her desires,” he answered, his eyes flicking to Feyre with enough of a sensual promise that her heartbeat turned staccato.

“Rhys, it sounds as though your generosity is part of the way you express your love, is that safe to say?” Rhys nodded. “And Feyre, it seems as if you have trouble accepting your husband's generosity, both in and outside the bedroom. Do you feel that’s a fair statement?”

“I-I suppose so.”

“Sometimes people have trouble accepting their loved one’s generosity when they feel like they aren’t giving something in exchange. It can be hard to accept that kind of love when we don’t feel like we deserve it. Do you feel like this could apply to your situation?”

Feyre blinked. This was meant to be a gag, something daring and experimental. She hadn’t expected to be psychoanalyzed by Dr. Suriel, or at least for her analysis to hit so close to home.

Rhysand shifted forward on the sofa. “Is this true, darling?” he asked, sounding concerned. He took Feyre’s hands in his own, brushing his thumb along her skin as he met her gaze. “I think you deserve the world.”

She would almost think he was being genuine if she hadn’t met him only an hour ago. Feyre marked the conviction on his face, those burning pools of earnesty in his eyes, and marveled at what an incredible actor he was.

Somehow she ended up blurting part of the truth. “My family life growing up was kind of tough and I’ve never really known what unconditional love was like. I think a part of me still believes it's something I have to earn.”

“That sounds like it must have been very hard, Feyre. But it sounds like Rhys loves you very much, and that this is an issue the two of you can overcome together. When you feel the instinct to reject his generosity, try to remember where that message is coming from. And Rhysand, try to keep in mind that this is something your wife is still working through, and be patient if she feels more comfortable giving you something in exchange. This is her way of expressing love, too. At the core of your issues is both of you thinking about the other person, try to remember this when a breakdown in communication occurs.”

Somehow they’d lost control of their therapy session and were receiving actual therapy, which wasn’t part of the plan at all. But somehow, despite not actually being married to Rhysand, what Dr. Suriel said was reassuring.

Feyre turned to Rhys and smiled. “I think I understand better, now. You’re free to give me as many orgasms as you want, honey.”

Rhys grinned fiendishly. “And I’ll let you reciprocate in whatever way you feel comfortable, darling.”

Dr. Suriel clasped her hands together in approval. “Excellent. I think so long as the two of you take measures to accurately communicate your needs, you’ll find these breakdowns will occur less frequently. And that’s it for our time today, but I am happy to have the two of you back any time.”

Feyre walked out of the session hand-in-hand with Rhys, feeling a bit dazed. It had certainly gotten more serious than she’d expected, but perhaps her judgement had been misplaced in thinking therapy could be anything other than serious, no matter how joking the complaints.

“Well, that was certainly stimulating,” Rhys quipped once they’d left the office.

“And it seems we’re at a draw, considering neither of us broke character.”

“You do play my wife convincingly well,” Rhys practically purred, “perhaps I’ll let you take up the real role, if you feel so inclined.”

Feyre laughed. “I’m expecting a few other offers to come through. Give me a few days to look over the applicants, then I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, well how’s this. I’ll give you my number, you can wait until all those applicants come back to you, and once you’ve decided that I’m clearly the obvious choice, you can call me.”

Feyre smiled as she pulled out her phone and handed it to him to insert his number. “You do make a very convincing husband. Perhaps I can hire you for weddings and Thanksgiving dinners?”

“Real husband, fake husband, a partner to do spontaneous, outrageous things with. You call me, and I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Feyre.”

It was perhaps the strangest and most generous offer she’d ever been given. When they parted ways, Feyre thought that she’d certainly filled her quota for an interesting story to tell. And maybe, most likely, she’d be calling that number very soon.

[ijustwant2write]

A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic) (Part 2)

(GIF credit to @elenawinchstr)

Part 1

Masterlist

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @myficplace @yelenas-lova @lavxnder @s-unflowxr 

Summary: Benedict and Eloise both anticipate Lady (Y/N)’s social event, as does their mother, causing tensions to rise and panic to ensue. Benedict doesn’t want his mother ruining what he may have with (Y/N), asking Eloise for her help, who gladly plays the role of a good sister.

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Eloise Bridgerton x Reader (platonic), mentions of Anthony Bridgerton and Violet Bridgerton

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff

                                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benedict hastily moved around the house, avoiding his mama at all costs. She called out his name repeatedly, growing frustrated at his childish manner. He was supposed to discuss a plan with her about how he should prepare to court Lady (Y/N), but he knew better; his mama knew nothing of (Y/N) (he admitted, he still had much to learn about her too), and he didn’t want his chance to slip away. Although he was confident at her house when he called upon her, there was a sickening doubt looming in his mind that if he did anything wrong, another suitor could easily take his place.

“You have no where else to hide brother.” Anthony smirked, his eyes skimming over the top of his newspaper.

Benedict sighed, accepting defeat. She would find him in a matter of minutes, especially since Anthony’s office was the last place she would look. 

“Please, just let me stay her for a few moments.” Benedict begged.

Anthony chuckled, putting down the papers as he reclined in his chair.“Oh dear, I see things are turning serious quite quickly.”

“Yes, which wouldn’t be a problem if mama wasn’t making this such a big ordeal.”

“But it is to her.”

Benedict knew this.“I know that, because someone hasn’t found a woman to marry, so it then falls onto my shoulders.”

“I haven’t seen you so anxious before. Sit down, try to relax.”

Benedict took his offer, practically collapsing into the chair on the other side of the desk. Anthony stood, pouring out a drink each and handing one to Benedict. Though not one to drink in the early afternoon, he gladly sipped at it, wishing he would just calm down.

“Besides mama, what is going on in that head of yours?” Anthony asked. 

He genuinely wanted to help. He felt a slight guilt knowing that his mama was more excited about this possible partnership, seeing as he never gave her the satisfaction of even socialising with women. 

“I worry that I may not be enough for (Y/N).” he said.“Of course, I have talked to women, I know the right things to say, but I also know that I will not want to engage in further conversation. Whereas with (Y/N), she intrigues me, so much that even after we danced and talked for hours, I still felt like I hardly spent any time with her. I thought about every word I said, listened intently to everything that poured out of her mouth. There are no other women like her.”

Anthony didn’t speak for a few seconds.“You should write poems alongside your art work.”

Benedict groaned, about to stand when Anthony stopped him.

“I am teasing you brother. Look, it’s extremely obvious that you have fallen for this woman. Putting feelings aside for a moment, she also comes from a well off family with a respectable background, so you’ve done very well in that department. This art exhibition will allow me to also see what Lady (Y/N) and her family are like, as well as keep mama away from you both as much as I can.”

“You would do that for me?”

“You seem shocked. I will pretend not to be offended.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know that you too do not like to be....bothered by mama at these events. No doubt she’ll talk to you about my potential courtship all night.”

The door opened as he finished speaking, Violet popping her head in. Her smile widened when she saw both her sons in the same room, now able to speak with them both about Lady (Y/N). Anthony and Benedict shared a look, knowing they would be there for some time.

Elsewhere in the house, Eloise was suffering through a conversation with Hyacinth. As Daphne had to endure, Hyacinth was questioning her older sister, wanting to know everything there was to know about the balls they attended. She wanted to make sure she had all the knowledge she needed when it was her turn to debut. They never spoke of these things in front of her or Gregory and she wanted all the answers. However, Eloise was not revealing anything, and making it seems that everything to do with debuting was awful.

“Go away and pester somebody else.” Eloise huffed as she descended the stairs away from her sister.

“Why are you always so mean to me? I’m just asking questions!” Hyacinth protested.

Eloise felt guilty, especially since Hyacinth was still young and didn’t understand many things about the world yet.“I’m sorry, but I’m not the best person to ask these questions.”

“Why don’t you want to get married?”

“If I explain, you won’t understand.”

“Yes I will!”

“You won’t Hyacinth.”

“You’re so mean!”

The young girl stomped off, having a tantrum to herself. Eloise did feel bad for being so snappy with her sister, but she really didn’t like talking about these things, doing all she could to avoid it where possible. It just made her feel miserable. And who wants to dote on a topic that eliminates all happiness from them?

However, Eloise did find that she was excited about the art exhibition. She was curious as to how (Y/N) and her brother’s encounter would go. For a moment, she felt like her mama. It sent shudders down her spine. It was nice to have the pressure and attention off of her, and to see her brothers in the spotlight. She knew too many friends with brothers who had it easier than the women of the family. Of course they had certain expectations, but Eloise did not see any men parading around in uncomfortable, tight dresses, with over the top embellishments and feathers. 

The remaining days leading up to the art exhibition were filled with dress and suit fittings, lessons on the (Y/L/N) family, and making sure everyone knew how important this day could be. Benedict grew more and more nervous as it approached, his mama making him realise that this could be a turning point in his life. Before this was all about him being excited to see (Y/N), to be in her company again, now it was as if he was proposing to her.

Eloise stepped out into the garden, welcoming the warmth that was still lingering at this time of night. She couldn’t sleep, knowing what was on her mind, but not wanting to admit it. She wasn’t surprised to see Benedict already on the swing set, secretly smoking as they had both done before. A small smile appeared on her face as she approached him, making sure to create some sort of noise as to not startle him.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one being kept awake.” she said as she sat down.

“I haven’t even tried to sleep yet.” Benedict said before inhaling through his cigarette again.

“Is someone nervous?” she wasn’t teasing him, she was concerned.

“Yes.” he surprisingly said.“I’m nervous because mother has made me believe everything is depending on this next meeting. Yet she forgets how long Daphne took to decide who she was marrying.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“And why is that?”

“Because (Y/N) likes you.” 

Benedict chuckled."Ah, I forgot you were the expert on such topics."

"I may not know a lot about...feelings and love, but I am not a fool. I saw the way your eyes lit up when you first saw her. (Y/N) was practically speechless too. But not like the other women who fawn over the Bridgerton name, she actually liked you for your face, for some reason. I don't know, it just seemed that there was something natural between you."

"Eloise Bridgerton, what a doting thing to say."

"I am trying to be nice to you brother."

"I know. And I appreciate it, but...I feel at ease with (Y/N), and I don't like the thought of mother's eyes burning into the back of my head. Anthony has said that he will do what he can to help, but I fear that mother will not be totally distracted by him. She’ll know his sudden interest will be fake.”

Eloise had an idea, and even if she didn’t want to go through with it, she knew it would help Benedict.“I will regret saying this, but I shall help too. I will make sure mama is paying attention to me, I’ll let her drag me around and indulge in hideously, dull conversations.”

Benedict had been shocked for the second time that day. Two of his siblings, both detesting the thought of marriage, had offered to suffer through this social event in order to give him time with (Y/N).

“What has happened to you two today?” Benedict asked.

“We are merely being charitable. Hopefully you return the favour in future. God knows I’ll be in need of saving soon.”

(Y/N) was all a flutter on the morning of the exhibition. Her mother had bought a new dress just for this, wanting to impress the Bridgerton family, prepping their halls and rooms for the exhibition for the last week. (Y/N)’s father was proud of what he had created, and that his daughter may be on her way to marrying a family who were held highly in their society. (Y/N) couldn’t focus at all, relieved that her maids were the ones in charge of getting her dressed and ready for the day; if left to her own devices, she surely would have put her dress on backwards. 

Guests streamed in, but (Y/N) was only on the lookout for one person. She remained polite, trying to stay in the moment as more and more people arrived. However, she still kept an eye out for Benedict, also staying on her toes. She had many things in mind to say to him, and she wanted to keep them in her mind. There was no way she was going to humiliate herself. 

Her heart started beating a thousand times faster when she saw Benedict enter the main hall, the one holding the biggest and most expensive pieces of art. She smiled, and somehow it grew even bigger when he made eye contact with him. His smile was so sweet, it made you fall for his charms even more. Benedict felt his stomach twist in anticipation, desperate to have just a few moments with (Y/N). Alas, that did not come when his mama latched onto his arm, steering him in (Y/N)’s direction. Although he wanted to speak with her, he found it all rather forceful, especially when (Y/N)’s parents suddenly appeared behind her.

Formal introductions were made, each set of parents making small talk about the last time they were in each others company. (Y/N) and Benedict were silent, nodding along with what was being said as they sneaked glances at each other. The conversation was dragging for them, they knew their parents wanted to figure out if this could be a potential arrangement. It didn’t seem that they were going to stop talking at any point, neither child wanting to be rude, until Eloise intruded.

“Pardon me,” she started, sending a subtle smile to Benedict,“mama, I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“Ah, another Bridgerton. The next daughter to find a suitor, I presume?” (Y/N)’s mother beamed.

Eloise hid the urge to frown. Luckily her mother stepped in.“Yes, this is Eloise. I’m sorry darling, I did not mean to leave you stranded.”

“Yes, well, shall we?” Eloise tugged at her mother’s arm.

“Alright dear. It was lovely to see you both again.” 

As Violet eagerly followed Eloise, (Y/N)’s parents also dispersed. Benedict and (Y/N) were now finally together, just as they had wished; so why did it suddenly feel awkward?

“Well, that seemed to easy.” Benedict cleared his throat.

“What was?” (Y/N) asked.

“Getting rid of them.” he grinned, holding out his arm.

(Y/N) smiled back, happy to hold onto him.“I was trying to come up with something to say that would not be rude, but would also mean we could leave. I hope that it wasn’t obvious I wanted to leave.”

“Even if it was, I doubt they would care too much. We both know they are over excited.”

“Oh how right you are. I’m assuming your mother has been acting the same as mine this whole week?”

“Overbearing? Overthinking? Over-”

(Y/N) giggled.“Yes, yes, I do not wish to dote on the memory. I am happy that you are here though Benedict.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

The pair’s arms stayed linked as (Y/N) guided Benedict around the art work. Sometimes they joined other conversations, though liked to keep to themselves. It was easy to bond over artwork, especially since it was a passion both of them had. There were no pauses or silences after a few minutes of talking, conversation flowed naturally between them. Men and women also searching for suitors were jealous; a Bridgerton boy had been swept up all too quickly and (Y/N) had been a popular choice amongst the men. However, people could not deny they made a fitting pair.

"Come, let me show you something." (Y/N) muttered to Benedict, easily slipping away from the crowds and leaving the room.

"We really shouldn't be alone (Y/N)." Benedict said, even though this was all he had been wanting.

(Y/N) had a cheeky smile on her face as she tugged on his arm, her steps gradually getting quicker. Benedict didn't even take in her elaborate house, only looking at her beautiful face every time she glanced up at him. They stopped before two grand doors, which (Y/N) cautiously opened, slipping inside with Benedict close behind her.

In the middle of the room was a huge painting covered by a fine piece of cloth. Benedict was confused why (Y/N) brought him to this, until she let go of his hand (him instantly missing the feeling), and theatrically pulled the piece of fabric down. Benedict's jaw dropped as the piece was revealed. He had never seen a painting like it.

It was a large, landscape painting of a ballroom. It captured dancing pairs in the middle of some sort of waltz, musicians huddled in the corner whilst the other guests stood watching; and it was so intricate, Benedict guessed it must have taken the artist months to complete it. All the colours, the detail, it almost looked real.

"This is amazing." he breathed out.

(Y/N) was happy when she saw Benedict's shock."Isn't it? It's supposed to be revealed later, but I wanted to see your expression properly."

"Who painted it?"

"I don't know. Father said he is going to inform everyone later, but it is a new artist. I just think they're work is dazzling to look at. I become mesmerised."

Benedict's focus changed back to (Y/N)."Yes, that does tend to happen."

She didn't notice that he was referring to her, nodding along in agreement. Her smile faltered slightly, which Benedict was able to see immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he neared her, hating the gap that was created

(Y/N) covered her slip up, as her mother had told her."I'm sorry, it's really nothing..." she started, but found herself relaxed, and wanting to tell Benedict all her problems."It's only that...I used to paint frequently, well, I sketched more, though I enjoyed both. Like all girls, my mother told me to stop that and focus on becoming the most desired lady in society. I shouldn't have even told you about that when we first met."

"That's what made me desire you (Y/N)."

She blushed, realising how intense his gaze was."Oh, Lord Bridgerton-"

"What's with all the formalities all of a sudden?"

"I-I don't know. I don't want to ruin anything and it's only our second meeting. Third if you count when you called upon me."

"And I called upon you for a very good reason."

"I was wishing that everyone else would leave, so I could spend more time with you."

Benedict loved hearing her say that."As did I."

Subconsciously they had moved closer, though they both knew what they were doing. Benedict reached down to tenderly hold her hands, causing her heart to beat erratically. (Y/N) had no idea what to do, she only had experience from the books she read. It seemed simple enough to kiss someone, but also the hardest thing in the world. How much pressure should she apply? How long should they kiss for? Where would she put her hands? Where would he put his hands? She didn't have anytime to think as he was already leaning in towards her.

Eloise and Anthony were finding it extremely hard to keep the fake smiles plastered on their faces. Benedict was really in for it once this was all over. Their mama had kept a tight grip on them both, because as soon as they saw their chance to flee, they would. Both had to suffer through extremely long, boring and repetitive conversations, listening to parents boast about their children's achievements. Everyone knew how this worked, yet they all had to pretend to be happy about it.

"Where is Benedict? He's been away for a long time." their mama pondered as they took a break for refreshments.

"He's probably wooing Lady (Y/N), just as you wanted." Eloise slurped on her drink.

"Do not fret mother, he knows what he's doing. He truly likes her and will be doing all he can to...well, yes, woo her." Anthony said.

"I suppose you are right. It feels strange that one of my children are making an effort for once."

Eloise huffed."Oh, do not chastise us mama. We've been doing this all afternoon, haven't we?"

Violet squinted her eyes at them, suspicious that they were up to something. She was about to question it, but stopped herself. They were doing what she always wanted, finding someone to spend their future with. She wouldn't jeopardise that. Lucky for them, a servant announced that Lord (Y/L/N) requested for everyone's presence inside. The guests were intrigued, following orders and grabbing full glasses of whatever quenched their thirst. Eloise and Anthony had got away with their plan for now, they just hoped Benedict and (Y/N) had had enough time together. 

[wildlyglittering]

My Gift to You

I received an anonymous request to write something about Nesta and Rhys’ relationship post ACOSF and them having a conversation. The requestor said that their relationship didn’t feel genuine enough and that they had a lot of work to do before they consider themselves brother/ sister.

I mean.... same anon. Same. The relationship was definitely not one of happy families in my eyes and personally Rhys buying Nesta gifts just felt like the cheapest way to close the lid on their ‘relationship.’

I don’t know if this is what anon wanted but I just can’t write a future where those two truly bond and get along. So this is Nesta and Rhys as I feel would be most appropriate.

***

‘Brother,’ she’d called Rhys. It was not a word which drifted from her lips as easily as it did from Feyre’s when she used the term to refer to Cassian, or for Cassian himself when he spoke of his kin.

Brother.

There had been no time for thinking, not with the screaming and shrieking and the copper tang of blood filling her nose. Rhys was losing his mind and the healer, Madja, was next to useless, pleading with Feyre to fight death - an act as impactful as a raindrop at the bottom of the ocean.

If fighting death were easy, everyone would win.

Nesta knew if you needed to beg for a life, you needed to beg to what could heed you.

The memory of what transpired for Nesta, when she stepped from one form into another, had faded over time like some strange fever dream.

There had been a presence swimming next to her, a shark with a sharp fin and razor teeth, twisting and arching, waiting to tear from her what she had torn out first. But something else was with her, someone else, with a golden light to illuminate Nesta’s way.

Something given and something gained. Those were the thoughts floating in her mind once she’d been present again.

Nesta sought out the opening of Feyre’s eyes, desperately listened for a new-born’s wail and thankfully, she received both.

Afterwards, in the calm, long after she’d embraced Rhys, Nesta wondered what she had meant by that word - brother.

Even as she cradled Nyx’s delicate head in the nook of her arm, stroking the tufts of downy black hair, she didn’t think of him as someone she shared with Rhys. No, despite the hair and sleepy violet eyes, he was someone Nesta shared with Feyre.

Sister. That was a stronger word.

The first infant Nesta ever held was Feyre. She remembered a scrunched up red face peeking behind a blanket as her new baby sister was placed in her arms while a toddler Elain sobbed in the background, upset at not being baby anymore.

I already have one of these.

That was her first thought, her first memory of Feyre.

“Look”, someone had said as Feyre opened her eyes, “they’re the same as yours, Nesta. The very same.”

For a long time, that’s all they had in common. The gift of the same eyes.

Perhaps Nesta had called Rhys brother because in that moment he was. He was her mirror counterpart, not a piece of her heart or soul the way Feyre, Elain and Cassian were but something prominent nonetheless. A shard of glass slicing into each other’s bones that they just couldn’t pull out.

Thank you, he’d said and she wanted to tell him not to say those words. She didn’t do anything requiring praise, she did what she did for the love of her sister and her sister’s child.

Do not thank me for my very nature.

They drifted into an uneasy peace. A gulf remained between Nesta and Elain which Nesta had no energy to remedy, but a bridge had been built between Nesta and Feyre and the connection was one Nesta strengthened as much as possible.

Nesta walked with Feyre around her gardens, joined at dinners and was polite and nodded and minded her manners and, when she had enough, she would return to the House of Wind and let Cassian love her.

As time passed, so did Nesta’s thoughts of Rhys as a brother.

Once again, he became her sister’s mate, her mate’s friend, her nephew’s father. Once again, he became High Lord. Ruler. Overseer.

Months after Nyx’s birth, Rhys and Feyre attended Winter to visit Viviane who had recently birthed her first child - a girl and rumours had followed of secret meetings between the High Lords. Rhys had purchased numerous furs; thick, luxurious pelts in sable, fawn and silver and sent them Nesta’s way.

“I don’t want these things he gives me,” she told Cassian soon after, standing in a room filled with Rhys’ tokens.

“The furs aren’t too bad,” Cassian replied. “They make the floor more comfortable,” he said, his mouth hot on her neck.

She allowed him to distract her but at night while Cassian slept, she walked around the House, grazing objects with her fingertips and glared at the ones which seemed to shimmer too bright, too long. The House itself rippled with unease.

“They’re all junk,” Nesta said to the darkened hallways. “Jewels and silks and throw cushions.”

Feyre and Rhys had told her once, not long ago, how embarrassed they were at the quantity of their money she’d spent on her path towards destruction. Her pulse jumped underneath her skin at the memory.

There had been no love for her life back then, no begging and pleading to a higher power. No, it had been their love for their finances, their concern for their reputation, their lack of control over Nesta which spiralled into entrapment.

Die, she’d heard. Just do so cheaply and in the dark.

Although the word ‘brother’ faded from her mind, Nesta let her animosity go with it. She had the sweetness of her nephew to immerse herself in and she marvelled at the smile on his gummy mouth and the way he wriggled across the floor on his belly towards her, perfect black wings tucked against his body.

One day he would use them to soar the skies and his freedom, his life, was the best gift Nesta had ever received.

His life was the best gift Nesta would ever give.

Nyx was shy of a year old when the whispers started. One day they didn’t exist and the next – they did. They held a metallic quality as though they being spoken through the clang of steel on steel.

High King.

One night, while Cassian rested on the furs, naked and sated, she trailed her fingertips up his knee, up his thigh to where his flesh lay, warm and re-hardening.

“Tell me,” she said, circling a finger around the tip, “what did Rhys speak to Kallias about all those months ago?”

Cassian exhaled a long breath. “Rhys wants Kallias to accept him as ruler.”

“Of the Night Court?”

“No, he – ah, don’t stop – of Prythian.”

“And what was their arrangement? How could Rhys obtain Kallias’ agreement?”

Cassian’s gasps filled her ears. “Through Nyx,” he forced out, “a promise he would marry Kallias’ daughter.”

After that she listened more to what the clanging whispers told her across the breeze, to what the House told her, to what she heard outside closed doors in Rhys’ home on visits to her sister.

Nesta was as serene as the Mother herself when she drifted to Rhys’ study and lingered by the locked door where he and Amren held counsel.

“They are the same as before, inert and useless.”

“Get her to the blacksmith, boy.”

“Her ability is gone.”

“Possibly, but test her to be sure. If she forges a hundred thousand swords then at least one might be Made.”

“She won’t do it.”

“Ban her from seeing the child until she does. She’ll forge then.”

Nesta closed her eyes, clenching her fists until her nails dug into her palms and blood trickled through her knuckles.

For a moment Nesta became a blade, sharp and dangerous, mounted on a wall and viewing Rhys and Amren from a height. The shadows danced from the lit hearth onto Rhys making his face sunken and hollow. For the first time, Rhys looked every inch the ancient creature he was.

Amren walked to the blade that was Ataraxia, that was Nesta, her silver eyes reflected in the shining metal, a palm splayed outwards with the reverence a worshipper showed their god.

“Turns out she wasn’t a pathetic waste of life after all.”

From then on Nesta would listen to what the blades told her.

Rhys took them from their mounts and held them, caressed them as he should his sleeping mate, his violet eyes passing from hilt to blade tip as his pupils grew fat with want.

They spoke to him but they didn’t listen and Rhys struggled with the push and pull every time he lifted a blade from the wall.

He practiced with them in the safety of his study but the blades were too heavy and made him clumsy, leaving the usually graceful High Lord stumbling over his feet. A ripple spread through the metal almost as though the sword were laughing.

We are no advantage to him, the whispers told her and Nesta knew they were infused with the anger she held towards Rhys when she Made them. Now, they said, now he believes himself your brother and he would like a new gift.

Instead that was what she asked him for, next time she was at his home.

“Hello, sister,” and his smile was akin to a wolf’s as it waited in the field for lambs.

“Rhys.”

He agreed vigorously to her request before she even named her price. Maybe Rhys thought he could eventually turn the bee itself into honey.

“I’ve given some thought,” she said, “and I’d like something back. Eris has the dagger but you have two swords remaining in your possession. Keep the small one but Ataraxia, I would like her to be mine. I will never ask anything else from you.”

The smile on his face froze into place as though he’d gone into the depths of Winter and been lost.

Though the blade wasn’t his, he didn’t want it to be hers.

“I don’t think so,” his voice soft. “What if someone tries to take advantage of you and steals the sword away?”

“I’d destroy it first.” However much the thought pained her, Ataraxia’s destruction had been considered - a gift to the other High Lords, one they would never know they’d received.

Rhys shook his head, his eyes dark. “No,” he said, “I need them.” Despite their resistance they were the only Made weapons in his hold.

“Why?”

He said nothing.

Nesta’s lip curled into a sneer. “To be High King, Rhys?”

He glowered at her.

“You know you’re starting a war among incredibly powerful High Lords?”

“I’m the most powerful.”

“There are more of them, they will combine their powers.”

“I have allies.”

“You have enemies.”

“I have friends.”

Nesta sighed and looked to the two swords, the metal glinting as though caught by firelight although the fire was unlit. Her name was murmured, the rasp of metal on metal.

“They’re your friends now but you’re demanding they give up their people, their lands and heritage to you and for what? Why would they do that willingly?”

She turned away from him and stood before the mounted blades. Her reflection was as clear as though they were mirrors, as was Rhys’ behind her, a dark mist forming over his skin.

“This is a war your son will likely reach adulthood in,” she continued, “do you want that for him?”

“I’m doing this for him,” Rhys spat, “you’re no mother, you wouldn’t understand. This is his legacy. My gift to him.”

A calm transcended over Nesta, as though she were wading through the clear waters of a pool, a loving hand on her back reminding her of their presence.

“Your gift to him should be allowing him to live his life. To allow him to care for the people of the Night Court, to give him the chance to fall in love and choose a partner of his own calling.”

“You don’t understand,” Rhys said again, “you had power for mere months and you think you’re the authority of giving it up. It’s a choice you wouldn’t have made if you understood what powerlessness meant.”

Once, when she wore another body, she could count the ribs underneath her skin by tracing them with her fingertips.

Once, in that same body, a man had pressed himself against her, his tongue forced into her mouth.

Once, Fae had ripped away her bedsheet and dragged her from her bed while Elain’s screams echoed in the dark hallway. She had drowned in the depths of the Cauldron, she’d watched her father’s blood spray across the grass, and she’d been dragged from her bed once more to be drugged and bound with her new body useless.

“If you say so.”

Nesta repeated Amren’s actions and traced her finger against the blade, Ataraxia shivered as though Nesta were running a finger down the spine of a lover. The sword moved, almost imperceptibly, but Nesta saw and wondered if Rhys did.

She’d bargained for the lives of his mate and son and yet Rhys wasn’t satisfied. Nesta was his mirror and so he gave her gifts believing she would want them as much as he did, because he continually sought out tokens to keep. He believed she would never be satisfied because he never was.

Nesta left, leaving him with the blades. They would be no benefit for him anyway and it wouldn’t be long before Ataraxia came back to her. Nesta understood now that Ataraxia had been her gift to herself.

All gone now, the Inner Circle assumed. After saving Feyre’s life, Nesta’s gift from the Cauldron is exhausted.

Lies, she thought as she walked the paths of Velaris to head home. All lies. The Cauldron had never gifted Nesta with anything. Everything she held had been stolen, ripped from something that never intended her to have it.

The sky was black, the fae lights of the taverns and restaurants glowing amber against the pitch and the happy chatter of the city revellers emerged from behind doors. All these fae living their lives as best they could, trusting in the protection of their High Lord.

They weren’t the same, her and Rhys, they were mirrored on the surface only.

Yes, they both stole power from those who never intended to gift it but she would die for those she loved while Rhys would kill for them.

The cold air was sharp and drew Nesta’s thoughts from the corners of her mind like a knife drew blood when sliced against skin. She drew her cloak around her shoulders and wrapped her arms around her middle.

There had been screaming and blood and Nesta’s pleas. There had been the dark slithering laughter of something taking something back. But there had also been the warmth of a hand, ethereal and eternal on her back and a golden magic which poured into Nesta until it overflowed.

Daughter.  

The Mother had welcomed Nesta and received her gift with open arms, re-gifting to her in return.

Death transmuted into life. Quieter but no less powerful. No less valuable in the future to come.

This is yours, Nesta was told, and will remain so until the end. This is my gift to you.

TAGGING

@live-the-fangirl-life

@champanheandluxxury

@dontgetsalmonella

[definitelynotsuzumi]

Zapped to Another World [Chapter 4}

I can finally update now that its school break! Thank you all for your patience!

[Masterlist]

Aether wiped off a stray droplet of sweat, weaving the plant fibres into the shape of a lantern. It has only been 2 days into the festival and already, he was swamped with the task of creating more lanterns to take to people who were too far from the harbour.

“Aether, Aether look! Look at this! Doesn’t it look like Paimon?” His white-haired floating fairy chattered excitedly, waving around what looked like an amber on a stick.

“What’s that, Paimon?” Aether paused in his lantern making to give the stick a once-over.

It was artfully sculpted to look like the said fairy and it smelled incredibly sweet.

“The lady said it was Karamel! I got another for you too!” Paimon excitedly fished out a star-shaped one. Cautiously, Aether gave it a lick. It tasted warm and sweet. It reminded him of home. Lumine…

“You’ve been at that lantern for the past 2 hours. C’mon, take a small break.” While Paimon may have been wrong about several things before, Aether knew that she was right on this fact.

“Alright, let’s have a break then.”

After 3 days(and night) of walking and riding on the back of wagons, you had finally reached the gates of Liyue.

Liyue looked spectacular with the lanterns adorning every corner of the street. You were in awe. You thought it looked beautiful in the game, but in the flesh…It was more than you could ever dream of.

Each lantern had its own unique design. You could hear the drums and cymbals crashing as performers danced under a giant suit that looked like the Adepti of Liyue. The scent of grilling fish and sweets wafted through the thick hair of the harbour. It felt so homely, almost like one of the carnivals you had attended.

“Woah…Ow!” You bumped into a ginger-haired man. Tartaglia.

Cold reality slapped you across your face. The Fatui is everywhere.

“Oh! Sorry, are you alright?” Concern lit his handsome features. If you were not careful…You very much wanted to pull away your hand but you hesitantly let Tartaglia pull you up. You definitely did not want the man suspecting you about anything.

“Uhm, uh yeah sorry, I wasn’t looking. This is my first time seeing all of this…” You tried to gulp down your fear of the man.

“I feel you! Hahaha, are you new here? Well, you must be. I have not seen such a pretty lady like yourself around these parts before.”  Despite your fear of the Fatui, you felt your face flush in response to his flirting.

“Yeah, very much so, I’m afraid. I’m looking for a friend of mine. About yeh high and has a white floating fairy by his side.” You gestured a rough height.

“Oh! What a small world!” Tartaglia beamed at you. He seemed so innocent as he aimed a bright and friendly smile at you, but you knew better.

“Uh…Do you know him, by any chance?”

“Know him? Well of course! I dare say that he is one of my good friends! Come, come, I’ll take you to him!”

He gestured you to follow him, and reluctantly you did so.

Tartaglia had never seen someone so shy and scared before. Is it because I am part of the Fatui?

You looked so innocent when he bumped into you at the gates. The way you gaped and looked around Liyue like you’ve never seen it before… It almost reminded him of Teucer and his sisters in Shneznaya.

“Please don’t be afraid of me. While I admit, I am not that nice of a guy, I promise I won’t do anything bad to you.” Seeing you stiffen at his words, Tartaglia felt a particularly large drop of sweat dribbling down.

Did that just backfire?

“Childe?! What are you doing here?!” A familiar high pitched voice reached your ears. You could feel her disgust all the way from your place.

Yup, that was Paimon. By her side, was Aether, with his arms akimbo.

“Relax, I mean no harm. I bumped into this cute little girlie over here and thought I’d help her out in finding you.”

“Finding us? Wait what? Who are you?” Paimon frowned.

“Uh...Uhm I’m (Y/N)…Please let me follow you on your journey!” You bowed 90 degrees, hoping you could hide the flush on your cheeks. You’ve always dreamed of this moment but now that it is in your face, you felt your tongue being weighed down by iron ore.

“What?!” The sheer shock on their faces would have been comical under other circumstances, but right now, it did not do favours for your nerves.

“If…You would let me join? I’m sorry, was that too forward of me? My dad always talks about you and I thought maybe, if I joined, he would-“

“That’s okay. Please, it would be great to celebrate the Lantern Rite with more friends.” Aether fixed you with a warm smile that felt genuine.

“How about me?” Tartaglia winked at Aether.

“No.”

Aether felt slightly apprehensive when he saw you with Tartaglia, but taking in your clothes and the lack of the Fatui insignia and signature mask on your person, he was certain that you were innocent.

“So, where are you from?” Paimon asked as your group leisurely walked through the bustling streets.

Seeing Tartaglia by your side, you decided to tell a white lie.

“Mondstadt! My dad’s an Adventurer at the guild so he’s told me all about what you did!” You definitely felt better when Aether fell in step with you, walking and talking by your side. You couldn’t help but feel bad as you realized the amount of lies you were telling was increasing.

“Wow, we’re famous!” Paimon grinned at Aether.

“Yeah! You were amazing in that battle with the Stormterror! I thought…Maybe I could grow stronger if I journeyed with you. Ah, but don’t worry, I can cook and clean-“

“You can cook?!” Paimon began to salivate.

You nodded. You were able to cook a few dishes, thanks to your Home Ec classes.

“Can we have a taste?!”

You bit your lip as you surveyed the ingredients you had. A handful of sunsettias, berries, flour, sugar, butter and half a bottle of milk. Looking at your group waiting expectantly outside of Wanmin Restaurant, you smiled.

‘Guess I’ll let them have a taste of Dorayaki.’

Xiangling had also let you borrow a little of their ingredients in case you did not have enough to feed your group. Of course, you had paid her a generous tip for lending you her ingredients.

Combining some eggs, sugar and honey that Xiangling had, you whisked it up the best you could with a fork. You carefully passed the flour through a noodle sieve into the mix. You could feel his stare piercing you from behind as you tried to focus on cooking.

Mixing it all together, you fashioned a mini ice box with your Cryo powers to rest your mix and turned to making the sweet filling. With a sharp knife, you chopped up the sunsettias and berries and sat them in a pot of sugar.

You heated the sugar and fruits together, humming a soft tune as you fished out a mandarin orange and squeezed its juices into the berry jam you had made. Sliding the jam into a clean jar, you sat it in the ice box you had made.

Taking your rested mix, you added and mixed in a tablespoon of water before readying a skillet, greasing it over with butter.

Slowly but surely, you created a stack of perfectly brown and fluffy pancakes. Taking your cool jar of sunsettia and berry jam, you spooned out equal amounts of it onto the pancakes before pressing another pancake on top.

It was done! You placed the still warm dorayaki onto 3 plates, serving it to Aether, Paimon and Tartaglia.

“Woah…It smells…Incredible!” Paimon dove into the dorayaki right away. Paimon made the dorayaki look delicious as she enthusiastically gobbled down her treat.

You noticed Xiangling’s eyes glitter as she stared down at the dorayaki. You looked down at your own share. You honestly wanted to dig in too, but seeing her doe eyes made you sigh and surrender your portion to the young female chef.

“R-Really?! I can have this?!” You nodded with a soft smile as Xiangling leapt for joy before biting down. You did not think it was possible, but the light in her eyes shone even brighter as she tasted your dish.

“Say, wanna join the Wanmin Restaurant instead?” Xiangling asked, her bright smile spreading wide across her lips and eyes.

“…I’ll have to decline, I wanna travel with Aether more!” You sheepishly turned down the offer. Aether and Tartaglia clearly enjoyed the treat as you noticed them both licking off the jam on their fingers.

“I don’t know about you, but I accept her into our travel group!” Paimon declared as Aether laughed, wiping off the last of the jam on her chin.

“Hey, how about me?” Tartaglia grinned hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Still, a no from me.”

Tartaglia then turned his attention to you, trying to use his puppy dog eyes on you.

“Hey, (Y/N), how about me?”

You silently turned away from his gaze.

“Why are you three so cruel?”

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

crushing companions reacting to f!sole being caught under the mistletoe by someone who ISNT him?

omg, that’s so funny to think about. some are longer than others so i hope you don’t mind (also i got a little carried away). please enjoy! ❤️

i feel like i moved away from the topic but yknow.. ☠️

christmas/new years reacts are still open!

-

somehow, he was dragged into this and had no choice but to attend upon soles request, not being able to say no due to his obvious crush on her. now he was here, mindlessly listening to the chattering of the person who accompanied him during the party, being absolutely bored out of his mind despite the liveliness of the party. as the person continued on, words not being absorbed, his eyes scanned the area for sole, wanting to at least see her once during the whole event and hopefully strike a conversation before it ended.

he expected to see everything; her chatting with some people, maybe putting out some food, or playing with the kids, but what he didn’t expect was to find her under the mistletoe with someone else. someone that wasn’t him.

Danse:

his world stopped for a mere second, all his surroundings becoming blurred as he focused on the scene the raveled before him, unknowingly holding his breath while he did so. his mind slowly processed what was happening and once it completely settled in, a wave of genuine irritation and jealousy began to crash over him. danse being danse, he tries to keep his emotions under control as best as he can. on one hand, sole has the freedom to do anything and everything with anyone she pleases with... and on the other? he wants to pull her into his arms for him and him only.

as the person leans in for a kiss, he leaves no room for debate as he unconsciously rushes his way there, unable to cope with the idea of his precious crush sharing such contact with someone else. sole would yelp in shock as she was pulled away from the person without explanation. he ignored sole’s questions as he dragged her to a quiet corner, not thinking straight.

his eyes stayed on the individual, glaring at them silently with a displeased look as if sole wasn’t staring up at him with the most confused expression. the protective hold on her wrist never detached, the grip still as tight as when he first grabbed it.

she coughed to get his attention and his gaze immediately fell on her, forgetting that he had dragged her without a reason. he would be struck with horror, his heart stopping at the realization that he had done so without registering it. “so, uh. mind explaining what that was for?”

his face would go completely red, his mouth opening to respond, but much to his dismay, nothing came out. the words became tangled in his throat as he tried to come up with anything to cover him from the truth but eventually came to the conclusion that there was no way he could save himself at this point. swallowing nervously, he slowly slid the hand that grabbed her wrist to enevelope hers and with a flushed expression, he knew he had a lot of explaining to do. no better time to do it than christmas day, right?

Deacon:

if someone were to ask deacon why he was so afraid to fall in love again, this would be the exact reason why. he didn’t like the familiar feeling that began pooling in his stomach and the unwanted envy and insecurities that began to surface. instead of showing his discomfort, he smiled through it all and excused himself from the conversation, quickly sneaking up on them. he didn’t have a plan, but he knows damn well that he could at least make one.

before the person could lean in for a kiss, he’d pop out of no where, cutting the individual off even before they had the chance. with a “panicked” expression, he’d grab sole by the shoulder before she could let a word out, ignoring the confusion on her face. “charmer! i just came here to say...” he stopped for a moment, giving her the longest stare as the awkward silence began to build up, “..that you look great today, partner!”

she would send him a look of disbelief. “seriously, deeks? all that just to say i look good?”

“someone’s sounding a little ungrateful during the holiday season, tsk. a thank you would be nice.” he shook his head disapprovingly, both ignoring the individual that watched them dumbly, unsure of what to say. he then pointed to the door behind him while keeping a disappointed expression, “also, dogmeats totally destroying your vault suit.”

“he’s WHAT?!” sole nearly yelled, covering her moth instantly as she received stares left and right. with a paled expression, she’d laugh nervously and run towards the other way, excusing herself in a hurry. “sorry, gotta go!”

deacon would smile and pat himself on the back at the accomplishment of his mission. the person would be left dumbfounded at what just happened. “uhhh..”

with a smirk, he’d turn over to the individual and look up back at the mistletoe that hung above them. “so you gonna kiss me or what loverboy? these lips can’t wait forever.” and just like that, the person immediately shook their head and left the area with an embarrassed expression. he scoffed as he watched them drag away to another area of the party. that’ll teach them not to mess with him.

now he just needed to find another lie to tell sole when she realizes that dogmeat wasn’t at all destroying her vault suit but was instead sleeping by the fire.

Maccready:

maccready is many things; petulant, angry, and absolutely jealous to his core and does not bother to hide it. he disregards the person he’s talking to, immediately stomping off towards soles direction without a word spared to the individual that accompanied him. sole would hear the loud footsteps behind her and would turn around upon hearing the noise, seeing a red faced maccready making his way to them with the biggest scowl ever. the person would raise a brow, absolutely bewildered at macs behavior as they stepped forward in attempt to shield sole.

“hey man, you good-“

“take a hike, buddy.” mac shot back through gritted teeth, his tone full of venom. the persons confused and concerned expression would soon turn into a surprised one, full of disbelief at the words that left the mercenary’s mouth. before they could respond with just as much attitude, sole would stop the situation from escalating, a sweet tone in her voice.

“okay, okay. take it easy.” she cut in between the two heated individuals and slipped her hand in macs own, instantly earning a surprised and flustered from him. she looked at the person with a apologetic smile, “i’m sorry, please give us a moment.”

and just like that, she’d pull him to a more private area of the party, folding her arms with a demanding expression.

“what the hell was that?”

mac would try to pretend as if he was irritated, whining quietly but loud enough for her to hear. he’d throw his arms in the air dramatically in response, letting his emotions take over the best of him. “they were gonna kiss you!” then he began to panic more, realizing the position he dreadfully put himself in with little to no ways to take him out. “i mean- uh- they were gonna- i was-“

“so what if they were gonna kiss me?” she raised a brow, a small smirk forming on her face as she pieced together what was happening. “what then?”

“i- i-“ he began stammering, unable to find excuses this time around. he mentally beat himself up, instantly regretting the fact that he allowed his emotions to take control of the situation instead of his mind. ultimately, he gave up as soles eyes bored into him, his voice dying down into a quiet whisper. “i-i don’t know.”

sole would let out a laugh, entertained by his reaction, leaving mac a blushing and embarrassed mess as he looked towards the other direction, hands stuffed in his pockets. “don’t laugh at me.” he murmured, face growing more red.

she would immediately stop upon request but the smile on her face never left as she stepped forward, placing a hand on his bicep. “if you were trying to let me know you liked me, you got the message across.” mac grew rigid at the words that left her mouth but made no attempt to deny them, knowing the truth of it , “and just to give you a straight up answer..” she tiptoed and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, his eyes widening upon contact. he felt himself freeze at the softness of her lips.

“i like you too.” she whispered against his flushed skin and he nearly fainted from the intensity of the situation. what a way to celebrate christmas.

Hancock:

everyone knows hancock has it absolutely bad for sole, so for someone to approach her in such a brave manner secretly ticked him off. he saw the stupid ass smile that plastered that persons face and he wanted nothing more but to slap it off them. he’d look at the person accompanying him, holding a finger up to shush them for a moment with force, “hold that thought, sister/brother. got something i need to take care of.” and he’d immediately make his way to them, not wasting a precious second.

“sunshine!” he’d call out to sole with open arms and a smug smile, immediately attracting her attention away from the individual who wore an irritated expression upon seeing hancock. her face lit up with happiness, a grin stretching across her cheeks. “hey hancock!”

hancock would throw an arm over soles shoulders, gazing lovingly at them as she giggled. “looking beautiful as always, i see.” he chuckled at the redness forming on her cheeks. “so how’s my favorite girl doing?”

they’d continue on their conversation as if the other person wasn’t currently in their presence, wanting to continue where they left off. the endless compliments and inside jokes made them uncomfortable, unsure of what to do or say at the moment. “um hello?”

sole would smile sympathetically upon seeing the irritated expression on the persons face. “oh, sorry. got a little distracted.” hancock would cut in with a smirk, feeding off the persons reactions. “sorry brother/sister, we’re busy.” he pointed at the mistletoe above them, going straight to the point and sole let out a surprised, “huh?” with a flushed face. “now scram before i make you do it.”

the person cursed under their breath and stomped off elsewhere, leaving hancock satisfied and accomplished. sole would shyly look up at him. “so did you mean what you said or was that to help put me in a more comfortable position?”

he looked down at her, thinking for a moment but smiled warmly to ease her tension. “a mix of both, sunshine. if you’re still up for that kiss, i’d be more than happy to do so with your permission.”

she would become more flushed at his response but would grin happily. “you didn’t need a mistletoe to kiss me, hancock. i was more than willing to if you felt the same.”

“guess now we know, huh?” he’d whisper softly and tilt her chin up, slowly closing the distance between them both.

Nick Valentine:

nicks smile faltered in response, his eyes observing the scene before him for a little while. something in him throbbed with pain at the way the person smiled at her confidently as she stood still, not rejecting his offer and he took that as a sign that she allowed it. he excused himself from the conversation politely before it could happen and walked out of the room without a second thought to allow himself to have a breather. the muffled holiday music would fall on his ears as he took a seat on the patio, quietly attempting to push away the idea that sole was indeed having fun with someone else.

lighting up a cigerrate, he quietly watched the christmas lights that lit up the street with a sigh and took a drag, wanting to get the thought out of his mind as soon as possible. perhaps he’d head on back to diamond city as soon as he was done with his cigar, hopefully having the courage to thank sole for inviting him with a smile. nick wouldn’t realize how much time had passed or how long he’s been out in the cold until he heard a voice calling out his name faintly behind him.

“nick?” he’d look over his shoulder and immediately throw the cigar on the ground, stepping on it upon realizing who the voice belonged to. composing himself, he’d address her with a forced smile.

“hey there, doll.”

sole would smile back at him and stop in her tracks, looking at the empty spot near nick. “is this seat taken?”

“not at all. never taken for you.” sole giggled softly and sat near him, giving him some space. he quietly removed his jacket, placing it over her shoulders and she chortled, sending him a small thanks in return as she pulled the coat closer to her body. a silence surrounded the two for a moment before he broke it, not wanting to appear suspicious. “what brings you out here, doll?”

sole thought for a moment before responding, “i just came here to check on you.” she said with a worried smile, “i saw that you weren’t around and well.. they told me you just suddenly up and left the party, so i just had to check.”

he smiled, a warm feeling filling his body. even at times where she was occupied by other things, she still cared about his well being. “i’m doing just fine, no need to worry. besides, i know you’re busy with your date, so i wanted to give you some space.”

“my.. what?” she was pulled back at the words that left his mouth but then responded quickly upon realization, “oh! you mean the person you saw me with? no, no, nick that’s a misunderstanding!” she laughed. “they were just doing that whole mistletoe tradition thing, yknow. where they kiss and stuff... but i’m pretty sure you know about it.”

he gazed at her as she continued to speak, pausing in between as she processed her thoughts. she stared at the ground. “i didn’t kiss them though. i rejected them and told them i wasn’t interested.”

a sudden flood of relief washed over nick and he let out a breath he never knew he was holding, the dreading feeling in his chest immediately turning into nothing. “is that so?”

“yeah. i had other plans too, so it just wouldn’t work out either way.” she smiled with a blush, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. he looked at her with a curious expression. “did you manage to get around to those ‘other plans’?”

she blushed and scooted closer to him, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek softly, immediately sending him to shock. his eyes fell on her the moment he realized what was happening and felt something inside him whir loudly. once she pulled away, she grinned at him shyly with a completely flushed face. “i have now.” she beamed happily as he touched the spot where she kissed, a smile of his own growing. “merry christmas, nick.”

he pulled her in, wrapping both his arms around her and kissed her temple lovingly as he whispered.“merry christmas, sole.” sole let out a pleased sigh at the contact, melting into his embrace.

Sturges:

sturges would swallow with a small, forced smile, trying to hide his discomfort in front of the eyes of others. much to his luck, he was great at doing that. his eyes would remain on her, not being able to avert it elsewhere no matter how hard he tried. despite his strange change of behavior, he’d still try to contribute the the conversation he was held hostage in, but give shorter replies, uninterested. a series of ‘uh-huh’, ‘yeah’, and hums would leave his mouth instead of well thought replies as he continued to focus on the scene nearby.

once sole presented a sign of discomfort that he was well aware of, he’d immediately excuse himself as apologetic as possible, quickly pacing to her. as he made it closer to them, he’d speak with a friendly tone, not wanting to make the situation worse. “hey now, is everythin’ alright here?” his eyes would flicker from sole for a while and then to the person who stood in front of her, a scowl on their face as they looked straight at him. he didn’t mind; if it meant irritating the person away from sole as far as possible, then so be it. he had no plans to leave now and he definitely wasn’t going to do so, even at soles commands.

“yeah, it’s just fine.” they said with an annoyed tone and sturges would reply with just as much attitude. “i wasn’t askin’ you.” he would then turn back to sole who smiled at him with relief, and he knew he made the right decision. “i’m okay, sturges.”

“i hope this fella wasn’t botherin’ ya too much, sole.”he commented loud enough for them to hear and their face went red with anger as they shot him a glare. “whatever, man.” and would stalk off towards the other direction with mumbled insults.

he’d sigh disapprovingly as he watched the person walk off childishly and then look back at her with a smile. “you okay, sweetheart?”

“of course i am. i was about to tell him off anyway.” she smiled happily at him and he felt his heart melt at the sight. “i’m glad you stepped up and saved me the trouble though. i really appreciate it.”

“no need for a thank you. i just did what was right.”

sole laughed and tiptoed, resting a hand on his cheek and before sturges could react, she placed a lingering kiss on his cheek, closing her eyes in bliss as she did so. once she retreated, she caught the familiar crimson that dusted his cheeks and giggled at the surprised expression on his face.

“my way of saying thank you since you won’t accept it and, uh..” she pointed at the mistletoe above them and he smiled nervously, letting out a shaky laugh. “gotta follow the tradition, yknow?”

“well, ain’t that a lovely way to say thank you.”

she nodded, taking both his hand in hers and stepped closer so that he could hear her murmur. “hope you don’t mind me saying thank you like that from now on.”

he leaned his forehead on hers and chuckled. “not at all.”

Preston:

preston would immediately show reaction to it, his smile dropping completely and his eyes widening in what seemed like terror and devastation. the words around him would become nothing but static and the music would be blurred as he felt time slow down. he knew sole deserved the best, but deep down, he hoped he was the best for her and maybe this was just the answer he was waiting for all along. with a heavy heart, he’d look away from the scene before it could happen and grow uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole conversation. he didn’t even bother to spare a second glance and tilted his hat down, afraid of what he’ll see.

when sole approached him later that night during the party, he jolted and automatically felt his heart drop as he met eyes with the one person he had it bad for. he tried his best to pull a smile but failed miserably as it looked absolutely forced.

“hey preston, not enjoying the party or something?” she said quietly, taking a seat next to him on the couch. the concern on her face meant she was picking up the unusual signs he was exhibiting and he felt panicked, knowing there was no escape.

“just not feeling it, that’s all.” he responded, looking back down at his drink on in his hand.

“we both know that’s a lie, preston. i can see right through you.” well it was worth a shot. “mind telling me what’s on your mind?”

he thought for a moment, wondering if it was worth telling sole about his feelings at this point since he had already gotten his answer. maybe he could fake it with a smile and carry on with the conversation casually in hopes that she’ll eventually drop it or maybe he could excuse himself elsewhere for the rest of the night to think to himself. instead, he just let out a deep breath and put down his drink.

“mind if we talk outside then?” sole smiled and nodded, standing from the couch and offered him a hand to help him up. they exited the building and walked down the quiet streets of sanctuary, side by side. sole remained quiet, waiting for preston to break the silence instead of forcing it out of him.

“you know what i’m about to tell you, i hope it doesn’t change anything between us.” he filled the stillness of the air and felt a small hand gently grab his bicep to stop him from walking any further. he looked back and caught the reassuring smile on her face. “you know it won’t change anything.”

he looked down at his feet, a blush forming on his face. “i know.” he breathed, “ i know it wont. you’re not like that.” she let out a hum of agreement.

“i guess.. i guess i was just upset that i saw you with someone else under the mistletoe.” he murmured, voice dying down the more he spoke, “and that i lost my chance.”

sole looked at him, baffled for a moment. “lost your chance? what do you mean?” he picked up his head to gaze at her with a defeated smile, lightly scratching the nape of his neck. “to tell you i like you, i guess. seems like someone already beat me to it.”

“what?” she looked confused and stepped forward, trying to explain herself, “preston, you’ve got it all wrong. i didnt kiss them! i left to go find you after i checked up on a few people.”

he stood there, wide eyed while trying to process the words that left his mouth and he realized in horror that he based off things due to his assumptions. “i- uhm, excuse me? you didn’t uh-“

“no, i didn’t kiss them preston and well, you could say i know who i want.” she grinned happily at him with a blush on her cheeks, keeping her hand on his bicep. he felt his heart beat loudly against his chest and he was caught off guard upon registering what she meant. “oh. oh!” a smile slowly grew on his face as he beamed at sole, holding both her shoulders in excitement. all signs of devastation and sadness immediately washed away as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “that’s - that’s great! oh my god! i-i don’t know what to say!”

“you don’t need to say anything.” sole laughed and moved her hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb over his skin. “just kiss me. you know, a celebratory one.. since it’s christmas and as my way of saying i feel the same way.” he nodded, leaning in to connect their lips.

“of course.”

Gage:

as if this party wasn’t bad enough already; the person talking was annoying the shit out of him and now the only person he’s ever had a crush on was being hit on by some low life. his scowl that was already there would only deepen more upon seeing that unsettling scene but would watch from afar, hand ready on his gun just in case some funny business were to arise. as much as he wants to put a bullet right between their eyes, he resists, waiting for some kind of signal from sole to give him the go.

without looking at the person who accompanied him, he’d speak gruffly, his expression absolutely twisted in anger. “shut the fuck up, will ya?” and they did, slowly sliding away from him in fear. he kept his eye on her, patience running thin as they grew closer to sole by the second. the second their hand stroked her arm flirtatiously, he snapped and made his way to them without a second thought, hand already drawing his gun.

“youd look better with a smile.” they commented as sole rolled her eyes, obviously unintimidated by their behavior. the sound of a gun cocking behind the person would stop her from responding and she’d peek behind them, seeing a furious gage glaring at the back of their head. the room went quiet, watching the scene before them but not daring to butt in, knowing gage was a tough one to take down. after all, they knew the safest route to this was for sole to take care of the situation before it escalated.

“and you’d look better with red,” he threatened, pressing the gun harder against the back of their head. “lots of it.”

the individual would turn a deathly white as they shook in fear, paralyzed. through stuttered words, they’d try to explain themselves, “i-i-its a tradition, the mistletoe! it’s - it’s just something w-we do every ch- christma-“

gage would shoot the mistletoe above them and sole watched as it fell to the ground, broken into pieces as sole sighed at the sad sight. “stupid ass tradition if ya asked me.”

she’d sigh and fold her arms, tapping her foot almost impatiently. “gage, quit it.” she demanded with an irate expression, “leave it and let’s go.” when gage refused to withdraw the weapon, sole sent him a sharp look. “now.”

and just like that, the person would let out a breath as gage retreated, mumbling some colorful language under his breath as he made his way to sole. they both walked past the silence crowd and once they made their way far enough from the party, she stopped in her tracks and faced him with a smirk. “jealous much?”

“i ain’t jealous. that was just getting’ ridiculous and embarrassin’.” he commented, looking elsewhere with a scowl.

“sure you weren’t.” she teased, earning a glare from the raider, “can’t deny that you wanted to kiss me though and you definetly wouldn’t think that tradition was stupid if you were under the mistletoe with me instead.”

he rolled his eyes and walked past her, wanting to hide the growing blush on his cheeks. “shut the hell up and keep walking, boss. we ain’t ever gonna make it back to nuka world with all yer blabberin’.” he stayed silent, knowing well that whatever sole had just told him was utterly true to the core and there was no absolute way he could deny it.

[enigmalynne]

Something to be Thankful For - Chapter 2

Title – Something to be Thankful For Pairings – Jensen/Reader Word Count – 1,459 Warnings – RATED R FOR LATER CHAPTERS: Violence in the form of a mass bombing/shooting, injuries both explained and detailed, cursing SPNMixedBingo Square filled – Thanksgiving

Jensen Ackles’ life changes when he walks into his favorite coffee shop and meets Y/N, a Florida girl making a new start in Austin, Texas, as a Sheriff’s Deputy with the help of her sister. The two hit it off and quickly become an item that even the tabloids can’t tear apart. Jensen is excited to show his girl off at Thanksgiving dinner with his family, but she has to work the parade that morning first. What starts out as a normal event filled with balloons, clowns, and cheery faces soon turns deadly as one of the floats explodes and gunfire fills the air. Soon, Y/N is in a fight for her life as she and the rest of the deputies fight back against whoever it is trying to take over Downtown Austin.

Is Jensen doomed to watch the woman who brought love back into his life perish in a tragic mass attack, or will he have Something to be Thankful For after all?

Chapter 2

I don’t want it to be Thanksgiving yet. Wasn’t it just Halloween? Y/N read on her mobile phone as she stood in her bathroom, getting ready for work. She smirked at the text message from Jensen and typed out a quick reply.

What are you complaining about? You get to stay in that warm bed and sleep in. I’m the one who has to go stand out in the cold for like 6 hours. Carefully setting her phone down, Y/N focused on making sure all the strands of her hair were tucked up in the French braid she styled her long locks into and off the collar of her shirt as the uniform code required. She was carefully checking her make-up one last time when her phone chirped a reply.

I’m lonely in this warm bed. You should have stayed the night, he replied promptly. Her smirk grew into a full-on grin. Gently shaking her head, she replied.

If I did stay the night, then I would end up late to call. Again. That was a glorious morning, and she would have been happy to repeat it. Instead of spending the 45 valuable minutes getting ready to leave, she willingly spent them in the shower with Jensen. She invariably ended up showing up 15 minutes late to the briefing with wobbly legs, still wet hair, and a few beard burns on the inside of her thighs.

I’d be happy to make a repeat performance of that morning anytime you want, sweetheart. Just get that tight ass back here in my bed, he replied eagerly.

Maybe I’ll stay the night tonight after Thanksgiving dinner with your parents. How’s that? Y/N responded before setting her phone down to make sure her shirt fitted correctly across her bulletproof vest. Grabbing her phone and walking out of her bathroom, she felt the buzz of his reply.

It's a date, he sent. Y/N felt herself smile widely before sliding the phone into her back pocket. Their first date was the day they met at her sister’s coffee shop. Their second date was the next night. It went on like that for a few days before they shared their first kiss. It was a few weeks later when a photographer caught them. The next day, a celebrity rag ran the photo of them sharing a kiss in front of a fountain in Austin with the headline “Jensen Ackles Post Divorce Fling!”

Feeling wrecked, Y/N waited for the inevitable to come. She was certain he was coming over and telling her that he couldn’t be with her because of the publicity. She was genuinely shocked when he shrugged the article off as no big deal.

“So they ran the story before I could formally ask you to be my gorgeous girlfriend. Nothing they wrote changes how I feel about you,” Jensen said with a shrug that afternoon when he showed up at her place. Y/N looked at him in surprise, making Jensen stare at her. “What?”

“I just… I expected you to tell me you had to stop seeing me is all,” Y/N said quietly, staring off into the distance, trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

“Do you want to stop seeing me?” Jensen asked, suddenly very nervous. Y/N shook her head sharply, snapping out of her reverie.

“No!” she exclaimed fiercely, causing Jensen to let out a startled chuckle. Y/N instantly closed her eyes, intentionally took a deep breath, and looked at Jensen. “No. I don’t want to stop seeing you. I was just afraid the unfavorable publicity was causing you or your… publicist… or… whatever stress. I mean, it’s only been a few weeks and suddenly there’s a big deal about how a TV show superstar shouldn’t be dating a cop,” she said quietly, her voice sneering a little when she mentioned her occupation. Jensen took Y/N into his arms with a soft smile and rested his forehead on hers, forcing her to look up into his emerald eyes.

“I may have only known you a short while, Y/N, but I already know how I feel. I want to see where this goes. I don’t give a rat’s ass what any celebrity magazine, publicist, or whatever has to say about it. And I don’t have a problem dating a cop. I appreciate your concern about this, but I actually want to make this official, if you’d have me,” he breathed. The radiant smile that graced Y/N’s face lit up her y/e/c eyes.

“Really?” she asked tentatively. Jensen gently pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth.

“Really,” he confirmed.

“I can’t imagine us being anything else than together,” she whispered tenderly to him. His delighted grin widened before he pressed his lips against hers again, deepening the kiss that left them both breathless. When they broke apart, they were panting.

“You know, I…” Y/N started, her eyes wide as they stared up at Jensen. She never finished her possible declaration, but Jensen nodded slowly in agreement anyway. He knew what she was about to say because he felt the same way.

“Yeah, me too,” he replied eagerly. That was precisely four months ago, and they are still going as strong as ever. Now it was Thanksgiving, and Y/N was heading out to work a security detail at the annual parade while Jensen got to sleep comfortably in his warm bed. Jealous, party of one.

Glancing at the clock as she walked out of her bedroom, she noticed that it ticked close to 4:15am. That gave her just enough time to grab her gear, grab a coffee, and head downtown to be at the meet location at 5am. She picked up the key to her safe and unlocked it to pull out her service weapon, two extra magazines, and her agency-issued taser. Sliding them into place, she turned and grabbed her radio and earpiece to do the same with them. Snagging her agency-issued laptop and her jacket, she walked out her front door, then skipped down the steps to the door that led her to the café.

“Got your coffee ready, Y/N!” she heard Holly shout at her as she carefully locked the private door to the stairs. Y/N snagged the paper cup out of her hand without missing a step.

Holly was already in the café with one of her employees, getting it ready for the onslaught of parade watchers who were sure to be heading downtown in just a few hours. She planned to take full advantage of all the people heading out in the cold weather thanks to a freak cold front by graciously offering discounted coffee and tea.

“Thanks, girl! Love you, Holly!” Y/N called out as she walked toward the door.

“Love you too! Be safe!” Holly yelled back.

“I’m on parade security, what’s there to worry about?” Y/N said, laughing. Holly promptly stopped what she was doing, turned at her sister, and glared fiercely. Y/N held her hands up in surrender and nodded understandingly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Anything could happen. I’ll do my best to remain safe, I promise. I’ll call you when I’m done and heading back.”

“You had better,” Holly said, pointing a knife in her direction before she went back to cutting whatever she was cutting. Y/N shook her head with a smile as she left the café and walked over to the side lot where her patrol vehicle was. Reaching into her pocket, she pushed the button on the key fob that unlocked the doors. At the beep, she opened the front door.

She placed her coffee into the cup holder and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. She dropped into her seat and set her laptop up on the stand before opening it and turning it on. As it booted up, she sent out one last text.

About to head out to the parade. Stay warm for me, okay? And go back to sleep! Why are you even awake?? She tapped out on her phone to Jensen. She looked over and saw that her portable computer was up, so she logged in. Once it was set up, she pulled the car radio up and turned over the engine.

“3888, Travis,” she properly said into the portable radio.

“3888,” she heard back. Her mobile phone buzzed at the same time. She reached over to grab it as she called back.

“3888, I’m 10-8. Heading downtown for parade briefing but available if necessary,” she responded as she opened her text messages.

I’m awake to see my favorite girl off to work. Stay safe out there, love. I can’t wait to see you later today.

“3888, 10-4,” the distinctive voice said. Y/N let herself swoon to the new nickname Jensen had taken to affectionately calling her: pressing her phone to her chest, letting her head fall back against the headrest, and smiling herself silly. After her moment, she focused on the job at hand. Today was going to be a breeze.

Taglists:

Supernatural:

@akshi8278 @vicmc624 @agirlwithdemonblood @flamencodiva @hobby27 @mimaria420 @compresshischest09 @kkrivers

Jensen/Dean Taglist

@deandreamernp @siospins @sacriceria @sexyvixen7

Something to be Thankful For Taglist:

@wayward-gypsy @stoneyggirl2

[juyoens]

odds | ksw

summary: you’ve believed in soulmates all your life. you’ve seen the people around you meet theirs, and you’ve always dreamed of the day you would meet yours. only problem is: your soulmate doesn’t believe in soulmates. pairing: kim sunwoo x reader, eric x reader if you squint genre: good ol’ soulmate au, fluff

Ever since you’ve discovered the meaning of the crescent moon on your wrist, all you could ever think about was when and how you were going to meet your soulmate. 

Could they be in another country? What were they like? Are they tall or short? How do they like their eggs in the morning? What’s their biggest fear?

Every possible question, you were certain you’ve asked your soulmate in your head at some point. The idea of someone being out there, who’s been pre-determined by the universe to be the one for you was one of the most fascinating, beautiful things you’ve ever heard of. It was the reason why you loved the idea of it so much, and why you were so determined in finding yours. 

But the idea is making you grow extremely impatient, desperate almost.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” you’re snapped out of your daydream when you hear Eric’s voice, his arm snaking around your shoulder as he sits down beside you.

You simply let out a huff, looking back down at your notebook and trying to go back to reviewing. Eric knows you better than anyone and immediately knew what you were thinking about, simply letting out a chuckle as he reassuringly rubbed your shoulder.

“Don’t be like that. You know, my mom told me her sister met hers when she was like, I don’t know, 30?” 

Although Eric was obviously trying to make you feel better, you couldn’t help but feel even more upset.

“Yeah, Eric, what if I meet my soulmate when I’m 60?!” you hiss, earning a few shushes from the other people at the library, causing you two to sit up straight and mutter your apologies.

“Ok, not the best example! But come on, Y/N. It’s not everything! That doesn’t mean you can’t go out and date! There are people who still haven’t met theirs, like me!” he whispers.

“I guess so,” you sigh. “Sorry. It just sucks, y’know? Look around us, most of these people are soulmates,” you continue, turning your head to scan the library with Eric trying to follow your gaze.

Your eyes land on Choi Chanhee and Kim Younghoon, who sat just a few tables in front of you two. You frown at the sight of Younghoon leaning his head on Chanhee’s shoulder as he studied, pointing at the two to Eric. 

“See, over there! Chanhee and Younghoon. I asked Chanhee all about it. They’re the real deal, Eric! They have the same infinity symbol on their arms.” you whisper-yelled, but Eric only shrugs, turning his attention back on you.

“Alright, good for them then. But still, don’t rush it! You still have the rest of college to figure it out.” he raised his eyebrows at you. Eric was right. Maybe you were just overthinking too much about it. 

“Now cheer up, Y/N! You’re wonderful, amazing and you have a good heart. I’m sure even if you don’t meet your soulmate until you’re like 80 you’ll have many people who will date you! Or even marry you. I mean, who knows, maybe this whole thing isn’t real and everyone just has a really weird birthmark that they share with someone.” he joked, earning him a playful hit from you to his bicep.

You let out a deep, gloomy sigh as you rest your chin on your hand, turning your head to see Eric now on his phone, a smile plastered across his face as he watched some video on Twitter. 

He sure is handsome, isn’t he? you thought to yourself, Eric noticing your gaze and flashing you a bright smile. “Why? Is something wrong?”

You shake your head and get back to whatever you were reading, hearing a small giggle coming from him as he turns his attention back to his phone.

Eric has always been someone who made you feel loved and reassured. And maybe, just maybe, if this entire soulmate thing isn’t for you, it’s him who you’d want to spend your days with.

The constant reassurance from your friends made you feel bad, having them constantly remind you to stop stressing over your soulmate. 

It was childish, you can admit that, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. Were you doing something wrong? Does everyone really have it?

You stared blankly at the busy street from inside your usual cafe spot, drifting off once again as your mind restlessly thought about university, and among other things. 

Suddenly, you hear someone lightly tap your shoulder, startling you and making you look up to see who it is, seeing the part timer with your order in hand. “Sorry. Here you go,” 

You give him a small smile, about to thank him, until you see the exact same crescent moon on his wrist as he sets down your drink on the table. You didn’t have time to even process the whole thing. This was it. This was the moment you’ve been waiting for.

“Wait!” you exclaim, and he stares back at you with startled, wide eyes. “I’m Y/N.”

“What? Oh. I’m Sunwoo. Is there something wrong with your order?”

You aren’t quite sure how to break it to him in a way that won’t sound creepy. It would be odd to straight up just tell him you two were meant to be together, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t...want to be weird. But can I just ask, have you met your soulmate?”

He’s taken aback by the question, and it takes a while for him to respond. “No, I haven’t.”

You nod, and you pull back your sleeve to show him the same crescent moon on your wrist.

“I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person.” he coldly says, seemingly unfazed by it, politely giving you a small bow before going back inside the counter.

Your smile falters and your skin goes pale. You were sure you had the right person. It wasn’t possible. It was the exact same crescent moon, and there was no way there could’ve been more than one person you shared the tattoo with.

You sat with Eric and Haknyeon at the university cafeteria, still upset at the unfortunate encounter that happened the day before. 

“Something wrong?” Eric asks. 

You frown, looking back at the two boys whose faces were filled with concern. “I met my soulmate.”

“Y/N!” the two of them gasp. “You’ve been waiting for this since like, forever! But what’s with the long face?” Haknyeon pouts, cocking his head to the side.

“I know! It’s just...it’s just that he told me I had the wrong person. Which is impossible! There’s no way I would have the wrong person. I saw the mark with my own two eyes!” you rant, frustrated.

“Maybe he just wasn’t ready?” Eric suggests. “Maybe he just panicked?” Haknyeon adds, leaning his head on Eric’s shoulder.

Before you could respond, you look over and recognition dawns on your face when you suddenly see your soulmate, walking over to the vending machine. 

“Holy shit, he goes here.” you breathe out, the two boys looking back to try and see what you were looking at. 

“That’s him?” Eric turns back to you with raised eyebrows. You nod. “Speak of the devil,” he utters.

You immediately got up and approached him despite Eric and Haknyeon’s protests for you to stay seated.

“Hey! It’s me, Y/N. The one from yesterday!” you call out, and he turns to look at you with a blank stare, freezing as soon as he sees you right in front of him. “.....Hey.”

“I think we should, uh, talk.” you stammered. He quirked an eyebrow at you. “About yesterday? When I told you we were….y’know....”

He simply nodded, taking your hand and leading you outside.

“Listen, Y/N,” he lets go and lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t believe in soulmates.” he gives you an apologetic look.

You’re unsure what to say at that moment. It felt like you were a kid getting told Santa Clause isn't real, or something.

“Could you...tell me what you mean by that?” you faltered. “I just don’t believe in it. Sure we have the same mark, but that’s not for sure. What if soulmates are just platonic? Or this is just some weird mark? I really don’t believe in it, Y/N.”

“Maybe. But you’re only saying that because you haven’t met yours yet! And I’m right here,” you gulp. “Not that I’m saying we should date. I’m just saying we should be friends!”

Sunwoo is clearly hesitant, not seeming to listen to your reasoning. He nibbled on his bottom lip for a while, before reaching his hand out to you. 

Your face lights up and you smile brightly, shaking his hand. “Friends it is then.”

Eric and Haknyeon seemed unfavored at the idea, feeling as if Sunwoo wasn’t genuine in being friends with you and only doing it because you said so.

And it really was like that at first, something you secretly knew deep down and something Sunwoo felt horrible for.

Waiting for him to finish his shift at the cafe; which wasn’t a problem for you at all since it had been your usual cafe spot; helping him catch up and study for exams, such and such.

It was like that for months, slowly trying to get Sunwoo to open up to you and see you as a newly found friend he could rely on rather than someone he needed to hang out with just because he had the same crescent moon on his wrist. 

However, you felt stuck. You were growing frustrated now that you’ve learned something you’ve dreamed almost all your life wasn’t as ideal as you’d thought it would be. Sure you felt happy to just be in Sunwoo’s presence, but you felt as if you were talking to a wall sometimes. Aren’t soulmates supposed to have some connection?

Eric soon found his soulmate, and you couldn’t help but feel upset whenever you would constantly listen to him go on and on about his, how much they had in common and how they make his heart skip a beat whenever they do practically anything. You wanted to be happy for him, he was your best friend after all, but you couldn’t help but feel annoyed. 

You sat in the empty dimly lit cafe, watching Sunwoo replace the open sign on the cafe door to a closed sign. 

“Aren’t you going home?” he says as he took off his apron, sitting down right across from you. You shook your head.

He nods, and the cafe is engulfed in awkward, uncomfortable silence.

“Can I tell you something?” Sunwoo suddenly speaks up. “That’s a first,” you remark, almost passively aggressively. “You're upset with me.” he pouts.

“I know I’ve been giving you a hard time. Eric told me all about how much this whole soulmate thing meant to you. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me,” he says with a sense of guilt.

"I really appreciate you always being there when i need a hand. I do admit I was shitty to you. But my thoughts about you has completely changed.”

“I guess, what I’m trying to say is,” Sunwoo leans closer. “Go on a date with me.”

A strange feeling of excitement filled you as you heard the words spill out of his mouth. You weren’t stuck like you thought after all.

“Oh I’ll show you it’s real, alright.”

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 6 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: anxiety [but no attacks], drugged food/drink, chloroform

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Through the heavy mist of rain, two beams of light emerge up the rain-soaked road. Behind it, two pairs of bikes; their riders — and one passenger — hidden under brightly colored rain slickers of red, yellow, and blue.

A flash of lightning erupts over their hunched figures, revealing the grim faces of El, Max, and Y/n.

With a wet screech, their tires skid against the pavement as they come to a sudden halt beside a very familiar mailbox.

"Is this it?" Max asks.

El steps off the back of Max's bike, her trepid features looking out over the front lawn and her gut sinks.

1438. Same red door? This had to be it.

El nods.

But what were they about to find?

That question had been rattling around Y/n's head all day, tangling her stomach into knots. Those knots only tightened when her friends began up the driveway.

She steals another anxious glance out from under her azure hood before joining them. Wincing against the mud trailing under her shoes as they sink into the grass, her stomach plummets when she spots the car taking up the rest of the driveway space: Billy's car.

Y/n sighed.

"Remember when this a regular sleepover?" She wonders aloud. "That was fun."

"Y/n, I'm sure it's fine. Come on," Max eases, genuinely trying to be helpful.

Y/n nearly argued with her. That there had to be something going on cause she had been feeling wrong about things since the night Dustin got home — since Will had started acting up. She wanted to argue that if El felt this strongly too, then it would be unmistakable. That something was going on.

But she didn't and she couldn't say why.

So here she and her friends now stood, hair clinging to their face in the humid summer rain, ready to investigate the newest mystery.

El's focus zeroed in on the door, and the muted click of the deadbolt unlocking itself reached their ears. And slowly, the red door crept open to reveal their figures.

Despite her fears, El stepped inside first with a newfound determination. Max lingered by Y/n, still adjusting to the reality of it all. Y/n's eyes catch her in a weak, knowing smile.

"Takes some getting used to, I know," said Y/n, reminded all too well of her last impromptu investigative adventure with El.

Max smiled a little after Y/n as she stepped inside before following in her footsteps, closing the door behind them.

The front entrance was short, and spit the girls out in a narrow, olive-green hallway lined with family portraits. Each of them featured a familiar face, the same face they had seen from the lifeguard info board: Heather Holloway.

As they trailed the halls, their soaked faces reflected in the glass of an all too happy family photo.

"This is her house," Max realizes.

"What?" El asks. That couldn't be right, could it? But Billy...

"Heather's house," Max confirmed.

"Billy's car was out front," Y/n mumbles. "Do you think he—"

The sound of a woman's laughter echoed out, pulling their attention down the hall. It was then they realized, they could hear the distant sound of music playing mingled in.

It didn't take them long to find the front living room. Coasters holding empty glasses were left forgotten on the coffee table, and from around the corner in the connecting dining room, they found a most unlikely sight.

Billy at the dining room table with the older couple from the photo; Heather's parents. They were all laughing and smiling. With Billy. It was as if they had somehow stepped into a creepy, picture-perfect, alternate reality.

"Isn't that cute, huh?" Billy had been saying, his face lit up in a friendly smile that didn't seem right to them.

The woman's laughter died out in an amused giggle, wine glass hung from her hand after a lazy sip. "He's so funny!"

Her voice trialed when all three pairs of eyes land on the three girls, gawking more or less in the living room.

Billy's smile never faltered when his eyes landed on his sister and her friends.

"Max!"

The couple at the dinner table bore vastly different reactions, despite the common shock.

"We didn't mean to... barge in," Max explains, still a little stunned with her brother's sudden unusual behavior. "We tried to knock, but... maybe you didn't hear us over the storm."

Billy didn't answer, he only stared blankly ahead as he chewed on his mouthful of steak. Mr. Holloway didn't let them off so easily.

"I'm sorry," he snarks, speaking to Billy as if they weren't really there. "who is this dripping all over my living room right now?"

Y/n bites her tongue. Her eyes were unable to pry themselves from the complete stranger calling himself Billy, wracking her brain as to how this could be the same person who had attacked Lucas. The one she heard horror stories about from Max, the one who shot her annoyed, rotten looks her way whenever she visited. Y/n could only imagine how Max must be feeling.

"I'm sorry," Billy let out a charming laugh, gesturing between his dinner hosts. "Janet, Tom, this... is my sister Maxine."

"Oh!" Chirped the woman, Janet, with a smile, further annoying her husband.

Billy rose from the dinner table and made his way towards the three utterly baffled teenagers in a tone so unsettlingly casual and upbeat.

"What on earth are you doing here?" He asks. "Is something wrong?"

"We just... wanted to make sure everything was okay," Max stammered, just as confused as her friends.

A look of concern flashed over Billy's face as he inched closer. "Okay? Why wouldn't it be okay?"

El had never officially met Billy, but she knew in her core how wrong everything felt. This was not the same man who she had heard so many awful things about, and this certainly was not the man who she had found in the void. Like her friends, El didn't know what to do. All she could do was watch, rooted to the spot right of Max as Billy seems to loom over them, his eyes drilled into Max's.

El couldn't take it anymore. This had to be an act. After all, El knew all too well how to spot when someone was playing nice. When someone was hiding their real intentions. She had learned how to it long ago in the lab.

"Where is she?" El all but growls.

His eyes snap to El, and she could have sworn she almost saw that mask break.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "Where is who?"

"Well, they're a little burnt, I'm sorry,"

All eyes turn to the chipper young girl striding in with a tray of cookies in her hands and a lingering smile on her face.

Heather.

The only troubled thing about her was the crisp cinnamon cookies in her hands. She had trailed off upon noticing the three young visitors.

"Heather!" Billy smiles, welcoming her as if she was an old friend.

El looked like she was seeing a ghost.

"This is my sister, Maxine," Billy chirps, turning back to the three confused girls. "And I'm sorry," he says to El, with an almost edge to his voice. "I did not quite catch your name."

El finally tore her eyes away from Heather, her mind racing. She might not have understood how she could be standing here, with Billy, as if nothing had happened, but she knew it had. Billy was hiding something, even if Max couldn't see it.

With a determined look in her eyes, she matches his steely gaze.

"El."

His smile, so fake it reminded her of plastic, never wavered. The unnamed look in his eyes flaring up.

"El." He hums. "What a pleasure it is to meet you El. And of course, who could possibly forget..."

El's stomach turns when Billy looks to her right. His movements were stiff and smooth, like a marionette puppet on strings, his eyes unblinking landed on her for the first time since they arrived.

"Y/n."

The sound of her name on his tongue made her skin crawl, his voice all the way in the back of his throat.

She was soaked to the bone, but the only chill Y/n felt came from Billy's unwavering stare on her. It was then she realized what was off about him, other than his unusual behavior. It was his eyes. Everything about him and his actions were warm and inviting, completely unbothered.

But his eyes... They were cold. Far away, and detached. And as he looked at her now, that crack in his mask was undeniable. And it widened to reveal something else entirely.

An untamed, hidden rage.

Billy inched closer to her in a single, nearly unnoticeable step.

And so did El. Wedging herself in between her friend and Billy.

Y/n hadn't said a word since seeing him, and she was glad she hadn't. But she didn't need to. The look in her eyes spoke volumes, challenging the look in his.

Hardly any time had passed, she realized, when Billy shakes his head with a laugh.

"Why, it's only my little sister's best friend." Her glare remains, and he glances at the Holloways. "Now please," he chirped, his gaze hardening as it zeroes in on El. "What is it you ladies were saying?"

There was a newer edge to his voice, a smug one. Almost as if he knew he had them cornered.

"You were..." They flicker back over Y/n, before resting back on El. "looking for somebody?"

El looked between him and Heather, her brain scrambling to make things connect. None of it added up. The void never lied to her. It had been misleading, and troublesome more often than not but everything she saw was real.

"I-I..."

So why wasn't this?

"I saw you—"

"Your manager." Max cuts in, quickly grabbing Heather's attention away from El. "At the pool. He said you guys didn't come into work today, so we got worried."

"Heather wasn't feeling so hot today," eases Billy. "so we thought we'd take the day off and nurse her back to health."

With that same, haunting smile, he looks back at Heather with a pointed look in his eye.

"But you're feeling just fine right now. Aren't ya Heather?"

"I'm feeling so much better," she assured.

Billy returns to the girls, calculated but smiling.

"Do you girls want a cookie?" Heather asks, finally managing to tear Y/n's challenging glare off of Billy. "They're fresh out of the oven,"

Thunder rumbled as Y/n looked her over, the booming in the sky matching what she felt thudding in her chest. Y/n couldn't help but feel like Hansel and Grettle as she looked upon the delicious tray of cookies, held out before her with a sickly sweet smile she couldn't at all bring herself to trust.

If she wasn't hurt... just what was going on?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Disparaged and thoroughly disturbed, the girls pick up their bikes where they had stashed them at the bottom of the porch steps.

Out of habit, Y/n swipes away the rain on her seat as if it would make a difference. The only thing she succeeds in doing is spreading the water all over the leather, and she sighed, accepting her mind was elsewhere.

Billy was up to something. She just wished she knew what.

As she watches El join Max down the lawn, Y/n stands rooted to the spot, rain pouring down her back as she lingers.

She could feel him watching her.

And when she looked over her shoulder to see him leaning in the doorway, he was.

Her worried gaze hardened in spite as she stared back. His lips spring into a forced smile, his eyes still a dark nothing. Finally, she turns, hidden under the deep blue of her raincoat before retreating into the night with El and Max.

The smile fell away from his face as quick as she looked away, and a poisonous scowl quickly took its place. In those same stiff movements, he stepped behind the door as he closed it, lingering behind the windowpane as his eyes locked on their retreating forms.

His heart pounds dangerously loud in his chest as he watches her.

He feels his brow furrow, revolted.

He knew he had recognized her since she first stepped inside — he could feel the heat lingering from down the hall just as he remembered it.

The pain wasn't just fresh, it was still there.

He could still feel it, as searing and unforgiving as it had been that night.

《•••》

The world bent at her will; everything not screwed to the walls or floors broke loose as the cabin moved around all inside it. It was a movement so forceful and demanding, it moved all of Hawkins. A guttural battle cry pierced the air as her powers exploded into an unstoppable force that had awakened her full potential.

《•••》

He watched in a mixture of fear and hatred as she joined her friends in mounting their bikes. And for a moment, the small, dying part of Billy tries to understand why until he loses himself in another unfamiliar memory.

He had been having them all day — seeing her — all day.

《•••》

Her s/c skin began to glow like a star, the cosmic force at work pumping hard through her veins. The three figures watched in awe as she comes alive, all the while his small and trembling frame twisting and kicking as he is engulfed in searing pain.

《•••》

Fury pumped fast through his veins like ice, desperate to cool his already freezing body. He was filled with a powerful cocktail of anger, frustration, and terror. A feeling Billy was used to. But this...

Somehow, this was also something else entirely. And it was all Billy felt now and all he remembers before the world goes black again.

His pupils dilate and closing in around them are several black veins that cloud the whites of his eyes as he remembers.

《•••》

His screams vibrate with his body before his small frame shrinks in on itself like a dead spider. He straightens in seconds, his head, hands, and feet now glued to the bed as he bends in one final arc, his chest rising to the heavens. His mouth opens in another scream and a billowing cloud of inky black smoke escapes. It twists and unravels out from between his lips like a pitch-black tornado.

《•••》

There was no more denying it.

It was her.

He couldn't have forgotten her or her poisonous touch if he had tried.

It was bad enough that pesky, foolish child to have awakened him — to have shut him out — was here and had been watching him.

But she would have her uses. A means to an end.

All in good time.

But the other? The one to have made him feel a pain worse than death?

Well, the Mind Flayer was determined to return the favor.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

As Will mingled with the dirt beneath him, the storm pounding against his back soaking him to the bone, he feels it again.

The same feeling he had felt the night before Dustin's return, the day of, and now...

Well, there was no denying it. No more running. This was real, and it wasn't something so easily shaken.

A great change was upon him and his friends, a change none of them were prepared for.

Shakily, he pulls himself to his feet, not entirely sure if the voice calling his name was real.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

With a faraway look in his eyes, Will turns to his awaiting friends as his stomach plummets beneath the earth.

"He's back."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"He was singin' Bye bye Miss American Pie..."

Billy returns to the dinner table where Heather and her family awaits, the record player blasting an upbeat, melancholy tune to fill the silence.

"Is everything alright?" Heather asks, as he returns to his seat.

"Yes. Everything's fine," he assures.

"Your sister really didn't want to stay?" Janet asks with a frown.

"No, she's just not... you know, really a people person."

"Well," she says, fingers twitching numbly with the napkin in her lap. "I just don't like the idea of them out there in the storm like that."

"Oh, they'll be fine,"

Nervously, she reaches for her glass, not expecting her movements to be so sluggish. She yelps softly when her knuckles collide with the glass, knocking the wine out onto the table cloth.

"I told you to slow down on that wine, Janet," Tom grumbles from across the table.

"Yes, darling," she mumbles, embarrassed, as she dabs at the spill.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" Asks Heather.

"Yes, I'm— I'm just..." she stutters, doing her best to shake away the dizziness swarming her brain. "feeling a little lightheaded is all."

Billy boredly takes a bite of his food, sharing a discreet, fleeting look with Heather.

"Hm," Tom hums knowingly. "It's all that wine."

"I'm sorry," she says, fighting hard to keep her eyes open. "Um, if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna go upstairs and lie down for a bit."

It takes all her effort to pull herself out of the chair, and she has to use the arms to hoist herself up but she eventually does the job. But she never reaches the end of the living room before she collapsed with a thud.

"Janet?" Tom asks, jumping to his feet.

"...half-time air was sweet perfume..."

Billy pulls a small glass vile from the floor with little interest. All the while, Tom threw himself to floor by his wife's side in a panic.

"Janet? Janet? Janet!"

With as little enthusiasm as Billy, Heather rose from her seat taking the wine bottle in hand. The record player continued its song louder than ever as Billy tipped the bottle of chloroform into the tablecloth napkin.

"Janet!" He turns to his approaching daughter. "Call 911! Call 91—"

Heather had struck him in the head with the wine bottle before he could finish.

"...never got the chance..."

Billy rose from his seat, leaning himself against the wall of the dining room as he hands Heather the napkin. She was advancing on her father, painstakingly slow as he tried so hard to crawl away to safety. But like his wife, moments before, the world had become a blur.

And it remained so even when he felt the sharp heel of his daughters shoe piecing his skin. Her fingers yanked at his hair, pulling his bloodied face out of the carpet. Before he could make sense of anything, he heard her detached voice in his ear.

"I'm really sorry about this, Daddy, but it'll all be over soon, I promise."

"We started singin' Bye bye Miss America Pie"

He tried to scream, but his voice died out in the chloroform soaked rag and the world went black.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[cornacopicimagines]

best of friends pt.2 │t.h

pairing: singledad!mob!tom holland x singlemom!reader

words: 5.7k

warnings:  SMUT, swearing, major violence, depictions of violence and blood, rough sex, oral (male receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, dom!tom & creampie.

summary: Everything was perfect. The two-and-a-half years since they first met have been nothing but love and respect. Until, y/n comes home one night, her husband gone for the time being. It all somehow crumbles in front of her, she can't help but question it. Though this thought is nothing to what he feels in that very moment. It's pure fear and terror, a pent-up storm of worry. Their comfort zone is nothing longer alive, it was buried and left to rot. 

a/n: so. it must be said, i went through three different plots before i settled on this one. that is why this goddamn fic has taken me so long to write. This is probably the last mob!tom holland fic i'll write because bitch has a lot of other AUs that i would honestly prefer to write. enjoy! 

part 1

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n waited for a moment. It wasn't long, but it was enough she had to check the clock on her wrist. 1:37am. Although she heard the snoring of Lottie, sound asleep in her bed, y/n knew otherwise. She knew that as soon as her feet hit the carpeted floor of her daughter's bedroom, the girl would shoot straight up and whine for y/n to come back. She loved Lottie with all of her heart, like all of her kids, however sometimes the precious little angels got on her nerves. Just last Tuesday is a prime example as y/n desperately fiddling with the buttons of Tom's shirt, wanting nothing more to take every inch of him while his whole operation continued below them. Just as she had popped the last latch, James called out for his father from across the house, most likely because one of the boys got hurt again from the play fighting they insisted they do. Sadly, y/n redid her husband's buttons and let him leave her widely aroused and dissatisfied.

As she watched Lottie take in her small breaths, y/n recounted the moments. She still remembers her wedding, clear as day. It was in their garden, with the trees dressed in beautiful pink silk and the flowers somehow in full bloom. No one was around, it's was secluded and perfect. It was just them, Theo and James stood side by side, their matching suits made her heart swell. Their perfectly rosy cheeks lit up as they saw y/n make her way down the grassy aisle. Though she never saw it, Tom admits that it was Theo who smacked him on the arm to turn around. To come face to face with his bride, a blushing bride that was 7 months pregnant. It was a rush of a events that y/n never quite saw occuring so early into her life. Yet, the day she told Tom they were going to be parents, he asked her to marry him. Of course, y/n organised a typical wedding after she had given birth but at that very second, every bad thing she had to live through suddenly became a single speck of sand on a vast beach. A prologue to her wonderful life ahead of her.

The door swung open slightly, though the light from outside Lottie's room was off, y/n could instantly tell who was stepping over countless dolls and plastic cars. Tom knelt at the side of his daughter's bed, just below his wife as she softly stroked Lottie's forehead. "You need some rest Sweetness," he told her quietly, watching over Lottie's snoring figure.

"I can't" y/n stifled through a yawn. Though she greatly needed to run to her bed and pass out, she refused to leave Lottie unless she knew her daughter was absolutely deep in sleep. Tom sighed, letting his forehead hit the soft linen of the bed cover.

"You need sleep, I can't look after the brady bunch by myself," Tom joked. His hand came to draw soft circles on y/n's thigh. It was nothing if not soothing to her. He could directly make out her face in the darkness, but Tom knew his wife was smiling, a low grin painted upon her fatigued face. "I'll take this shift."

y/n reached out for his face, finding it in seconds. Her thumb now matched the pattern on his cheek that Tom was drawing on her thigh. "We made a deal," it was his speciality, but he never wanted it to get this bad. "You would help Theo with his Valentine's Day gift if I could get this one to sleep."

y/n possessed many traits that Tom adored. She was empathetic, a woman of incredible wit and intelligence, had the stamina of a bull but her stubbornness seemed to be her crowing glory. Tom knew his wife as well as he knew how to count to ten. She wasn't leaving until absolute confirmation was handed to her. "Sweetness, I would prefer if you came to bed with me," he tried, the approach was simple and usually it worked.

"As much as I would adore that, I'm not going anywhere with you mister," y/n teased. Her attention focusing back on Lottie. Perhaps it was the way her eyelids seemed to betray her, closing every few seconds or if it was simply the way the mattress felt beneath her legs. Eventually though, the mixture of all of those and her husband's head laying flat on her thighs, she began to slowly creep off the bed. The pads of her feet pressed against the floor in such delicacy, y/n doubted that she even touching it. She reached out for Tom, grasping slightly at his bare bicep as she lifted herself up.

Tom caught on to his wife's movements and made sure that the path was completely clear of any of Lottie's toys. Calmly, the pair of them tip-toed out. Every move halted by their daughter's movements but eventually, the door closed and y/n was free from the little montress's grip. y/n wishes that she was more awake, more alert because even in her half sleep dazed she could make out the tight white singlet that clung to Tom's body. She reached out for him, it was the weakest of touchs. Yet, her hand fell on his shoulder and running up to the base of his neck. It wasn't sexual in any form, instead they stood in the dim light in complete silence. Watching each other feel the affected of forced insomnia.

"How am I going to get up this morning," y/n giggled as she accepted the sudden embrace from Tom. Her head finding it's way into the same shoulder she tenderly caressed seconds ago. Tom's fingers coiled around her forearm gently as the began to quietly walk to their bedroom. "Hopefully Meg will be around at that time," she sighed as the soft breeze of their room hit her face. Meg was their nanny, a woman who has been employed by Tom since James was a baby. She was a sweet old thing, a cliché of the lovely old lady in fairtales.

"She will, sadly I won't," Tom told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as they both hid themselves under the sating covers. y/n wanted to continue the conversation, she knew that Tom wouldn't be back at home until tomorrow night and for the first time, she would be in charge of everyone but she couldn't. As soon as her head hit the lavender scented pillow, she was out like a light. Tom just chuckled in return, pulling her into a soft embrace.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n wasn't an idiotic woman. She has been with Tom for two and a half years; married to him for two years, she immediately knew when something didn't feel right. As her fingers gripped the steering wheel, she peered in her rear-view mirror. It was something Tom's bodyguards drive around in. The vehicle was large and bulky, looking like it a take down a building with minimum amount of speed. It was painted in the midnight black, even the widows seemed to be darkened. Like before, y/n recognised the model of the car to be a sister of the cars she would frequently have to ride in if she accompanied Tom anywhere, he thought posed even the slightest amount of danger. She knew that with every corner she took, the car would mimic her turns. y/n caught onto it in seconds, watching through Lottie's car seat and Theo's mop of hair. It didn't help that when she called Tom's head guard, he told her that he had followed her orders. To let her pick up her children to avoid the never-ending shock from the ensemble of 6'5 muscular men accompanying her wherever she went.

"Do you want us to do anything about it ma'am?" he asked through the car's speaker. y/n pondered for a few seconds. While her gut was screaming at her that this was something completely out of the ordinary, if there was any ordinary being married to a Mob boss. Her mind knew that if she did say something to him now it was no doubt find its way to Tom. He would instantly assume the worst and cancel any important deal in front of him to race home. The guard's voice pulled her out of her concentration.

"Get the house under lockdown," she ordered, for the first time she felt truly in control but as all things it was slipping. "Do not tell my husband."

"Ma'am, it is imperative that Mr. Holland know of this," the guard protested. y/n had been going through quite a rough day. She was tired, overworked and constantly around wailing children. She refused to be around another. Her jaw clenched as she pulled into their street, the car still hot on her tail.

"I don't care, Tom will not know of this," y/n snapped, peering up for a final time but to her initial surprise that car had vanished. She had no clue where the fucker had gone. "It's probably nothing," she spoke quietly. The sentence was more reassurance for herself than from him, yet he had heard her, accepted her terms and hung up.

As she pulled the car into the impressively large garage, she lets her bare forehead hit top of the steering wheel. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Mum," Theo called out from the backseat, "are you alright?" The boy's question was laced with genuine concern. It released whatever anxiety riddled grip had got a hold of y/n. She gazed up, smiling as she let all her negative thoughts leave her before turning to her three children.

"I am just really tired honey," she replied as she exited the car and proceeded to undo Lottie's buckled. "Not to worry, I think it is Boy's Movie Night tonight!" Both boys cheered in unison. The afternoon went on as usual. Theo and James spent the entire time with their faces glued to the screen in front of them. Squealing every time the supposed bad guys landed flat on his ass, jumping at every occasion that they could. Even if they lived in a mansion, y/n was positive that everyone in this house could hear their playful laughter.

y/n sat next to Lottie; her curly brunette hair clipped back into two adorable pigtails. Lottie was a carbon copy of Tom. Even next to her half-brother James, Lottie seemed to possess ever physical trait of y/n's husband. The smooth somehow flawless skin, the bouncy chestnut curls that y/n just knows will be her daughter's statement piece when she grows up and finally the pair of chocolate eyes that gets her father weak every time, she babbles up at him. She wondered how all of her children would look like when they get old enough to make their own decisions. While James doesn't have Tom's colouring like Lottie does, he has this glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes. Something y/n has loves about her boys, they all share this odd ball of high-energy. Theo looks exactly like y/n, her colouring and her features. Theo's look alikeness to his mother is something y/n feels is divine intervention. To show that, this is her son. Her baby boy and no one else's unless she says so.

"Ma'am" Meg's heavy Irish accent perks up. She's standing at the windows, peering through the curtains slightly. "I think you should see this," she advises before stepping away from the scene and running to grab Lottie from her highchair. y/n hesitantly waltzes over, she presents a cool face to her children, but she can feel her stomach crawling into her throat as she gets closer. y/n pulls the fabric back slightly, she prays that is it now in the early hours of the night and the light is off. It's the same car, it's now parked across the road from her house. Just outside of their camera’s visibility, the vehicle is camouflaged almost to perfection, she can still spot it. Its headlights are off and the car makes not a single sound. At first, y/n faithfully believes she is now seeing things, that her brain is so unfathomably tired it has resorted to petty tricks. That is until one of the car doors open quickly. She waits for a moment as does this figure in the car before a pair of fit hit the ground. Though it makes no clamour, it startles her. y/n doesn’t wait to meet his eyes as his head ducks under the car roof to fully meet the air. She turns around to meet Meg’s eyes, the women wear matching looks.

“Take the children into the spare room, go now,” y/n speaks softly as not to alarm her sons. Meg nods quickly, instantly holstering Lottie on her hips and shooing the boys away from the glowing TV.

She pauses until she hears the door close. It’s deafening. She turns her attention back to the scene, it’s worse than before. There’s at least 7 of them huddled around this car, pulling unknown bags from the seats. As the mystery bags hit the ground, the unknown men begin opening it. It’s filled to the brim with metal, the holsters of guns peeking through with the aid of the dim light of the streetlight. y/n refused to observe anymore, silently she alerts the guards in the house. She doesn’t even process the next second, it’s like nothing is working anymore. y/n knows what the sound is, she knows what is happening, she knows that in a matter of seconds the men have begun firing at her front landing. Killing anyone standing outside, she can feel the bullets entering their bodies.

It’s with that, y/n goes from a fast pace to sprinting. She rushes down the long halls to meet with her children. It’s feels like an eternity that she is opening doors, calling out for any of them. All the while, gunshots ring out like a bell, constant and terrible. Her phone vibrates,it send her nerves over the edge. y/n stops for a second to stare at it, Tom’s name lights up the screen. Instead of answering, her fingers lose all their function. Her phone drops from her hand and hits the floor. She wants to pick it up but her feet work against her and begin to simply pace herself away from her phone as it continues to hum against the tiles.

Finally, she reaches the room. Meg holds Lottie close to her chest, rocking the toddler back and forth as Lottie cries into Meg’s shirt. Theo and James are standing in the middle of the room. Both look like they are on their verge of tears and to be completely truthfully, so was she. Closing the door, y/n immediately wraps her arms around her sons. She feels the wet tears staining her shoulders. She feels their chests rise and fall drop as best they can.

“You boys are so brave,” she sooths, her palms rubbing circles atop their heads. Slowly, she peers up. While the gunfire continues to ring out, y/n stares at the people in the room with her. Not a single bulb is turned on, the area is pitch black, but she can still see how this if affecting the boys. How Meg clutches onto Lottie’s wailing body. “It’ll be over soon.”

“You promise,” James chokes out, he wipes his face of her blouse. y/n pressed a tender kiss to his hair. She lets a single tear escape her eyes.

“I swear handsome,” y/n tells him, but she’s not convinced by the sound of her own voice. The boys pull away from her, one of her hands reaches for their salty cheeks. “Everything will be alright, Mumma swears.”

She doesn’t want to; she wants to scream. She wants to burn the entire house to the ground. She wants to leave with her children and never come back. y/n has never felt this in her entire life. This is not only pure terror for the lives of her children but it’s uncontrollable rage. She’s being held together by a tearing material of a rubber band. Her limbs are coiled, feeling as though she has rusted in the rain. Her mind doesn’t stop, it runs as if it has never felt this wrathful freedom in its life. A million different thoughts threaten to take power, as if they should decide her next move. She doesn’t let them of course, y/n’s had practice at this, and she will not crack now.

“Meg, give me Charlotte now,” y/n’s voice is hoarse and breaking with ever vowel that drops from her lips. The old lady rushes over to y/n and hands her Lottie. The toddler instinctively wraps her arms around y/n, refusing to let go. Another 20 minutes go by, it's torture. The air seems to wash around y/n as she clings onto her children for dear life. Quietly, she pans over to Meg. The old woman looks as if she has turned from the humble baker's wife down the street to death herself. Their eyes lock, passing silent messages to each other.

I'm sorry, y/n pleads. She thinks if she spoke it aloud, it would travel barely above a whisper.

It's okay, sweetheart, Meg responded. Though the woman only truly meant the first part, y/n wanted to believe that she would have used the nickname to calm her nerves. Somehow it did.

The moment lasted for only seconds. A fleeting feeling of safety was ruined by the doorknob rattling furiously. At the speed of sound, y/n had handed Lottie over to Meg and told her to hide in the bathroom with the children. y/n heard everything, the door lock behind Meg and the muffled yelling behind the door in front of y/n. She scrambled to her feet, driving her to the wide bedside table. She threw open the doors until she landed on the one thing she never believes she's use. A small handgun. y/n didn't quite have time to question her morals at this very second in time. y/n wrapped her fingers around the handle just as the door swung open. Tears spilled as she pointed the gun aimlessly.

"Thank god," his familiar voice rang out. y/n sunk to her knees, the gun falling right from her fingertips. Tom rushed to her side; he didn't know what to say to her. He knew exactly what she was feeling, he knew whatever attempt he made at explaining the horrid situation would break his poor wife even further.

y/n studied his features in the dim light of the room as he got closer to her. She had never seen him in such a state. His hair flopping all over his face, hiding whatever panic was clearly evident over his features. More specifically, y/n watched as it became clearer. A large splatter of blood across his right cheek. She fell right into his arms, finally allowing herself to stain his shirt with her burst of weeps.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n's body was on fire. The fire was nothing but pure pain. As if bugs were nesting right under skin, desperate for a gasp of air. Even the clock ticked loudly, ever noise of the hand pressed her brain against her skull. Every joint rigid in its own specific way, damaged and tight.

"Sweetness, talk to me," Tom soothed, using the towel to clean the final fragments of blood off his cheek. Her eyes squinted at him, waiting for him to do anything other than be his normal gentle self. y/n slid herself off the foot of their bed and walked to the closed door. Flashing images of the other room crossing her mind.

"I need to check on the kids," she huffed. While y/n knew Meg was laying wide away on the floor of Theo's room as all three children slept contently, she wanted to be away from him at a moment like this. She needed to not see his face. Alas, Tom's hand gripped her wrist tightly. The touch sizzled her skin, the tension elevated for a split second.

y/n whipped around to face him; Tom felt his patience slipping from him. "y/n, be an adult," he hissed.

Tom knew he shouldn't be talking to her like this, but he was at his wit's end. A candle burning to the final wax. He mentally fucked himself over when he got that stupid fucking call. Sir, your wife has informed us of an unidentified vehicle following her, it engraved itself into his mind. Tom remembers sitting at the desk, wondering if she was witnessing the same group, he had fucked over a few months ago. Deciding it could wait, Tom told them to keep his updated throughout the night. As if whatever god was up there decided to play a tortuous comedy routine with Tom, it did begin to progress. First, the car pulling up hours before his arrival. Then the major security breach and finally as they began shooting at his house, ready to slaughter anyone they found inside. Especially his family.

She watched his intently. Waiting for a further response and yet, nothing. Her anger was bubbling over. "I am an adult," she seethed at him, her fingers unwrapping themselves from the doorknob. "I make sure that my children are safe, I make it my life's mission to ensure that I am not the direct cause of those certain dangers I wish to keep them so far away from!"

She had ripped her hand from his grasp, this wasn't something she was backing away from. It was something she could fight and to which she intended to do until the very end.

The little monologue broke Tom's heart. How could she believe that he would do such a horrific thing? How could she blame him for the events that unfolded tonight? He wondered if she truly knew this was never his intention. That he never wanted his family to come under direct attack all because he made one dangerous decision.

“You don’t talk to me like that y/n,” He grumbled. The air seemed to thicken with every word, cause more distance between the spouses. It was never like this they fought like a normal couple but never with this much venom. “I don’t deserve such criticism, especially from you.”

“Why?” she pondered, she moved closer to him. Inching closer with every second. “Is it because you question my authority? Or maybe is it because I am some silly little schoolteacher who got trouble with the wrong kind of people," she moved closer with every word of the sentence, pushing her dangerously closer. It’s a risk she must take if she wants to feel any sort of release.

“Stop being so theatrical y/n, you endured something horrible, but that is what you signed up for when you married me,” the room climbed in temperature. Tom had half a mind to strip himself just to get closer to peace, but with y/n so close to his chest, he preferred to work on her. Tom can’t pinpoint what made his mind switch in directions. Maybe it was the ever-growing heat, or perhaps it was the indescribable feeling of almost losing your wife and mother of your children. Either way, Tom thoughts were growing darker. The need to bruise y/n’s skin seemed to be the only thing he could really think about. “You wanted this,” he grunted, closing in on her. “Sweetness, you agreed to this lifestyle as soon as you sunk your sweet cunt onto me.”

The vulgarity of his words caught her off guard. Her breath stopped halfway when her back almost slammed into the wall. She wasn’t giving in so easily, even if the heat from her body had swiftly travelled to the valley between her thighs. y/n turned her head away from him in any desperation to not look at him. Unfortunately, Tom caught her actions as if he knew her every move. His fingers pressed against her chin to bring her eyes back to him. Tom was worried for an instant that she would truly be too furious with him to play into his game. Luckily, her eyes betrayed her. The big doe eyes of her stared up at him, pleaded to be fucked like an animal. Slammed into until all of her rage had slipped from her conscious.

“Screw yourself Tom,” she coughed out. She was playing along, y/n knew exactly where this was heading. A tender kiss was placed upon her lips, while the action itself was soft, nothing about the kiss genuinely was. It was the ultimate puzzle piece for him.

"You want to speak to me like a bitch," Tom chuckled, "you'll get fucked like a bitch." He kicked the back of her knees harshly, causing her to meet with the floor. "On your knees and hands behind your back." She wanted to protest, she wanted to act out the little brat but like most things, her arms instinctively pulled themselves behind her. "Now, I sincerely hope I don't have to punish you further sweetness," Tom soothed as he swiftly undid the buckle of his jeans, discarding the items of clothing across the room. His throbbing cock hit the base of his stomach with a soft slap. y/n bit her lip in instinct, it had been a while, and did she wholly miss this glorious scene in front of her.

y/n leaned forward and dragged her tongue from the base of him until her lips met with the beads of pre-cum drenching him. Slowly but surely, she wrapped her lips around him. Letting him enjoy the wet cavern of her mouth for a short time. He threw his head back in unison with a beautifully quiet moan. Her eyes never left him, as she bobbed her head gradually. If she was on her knees unable to reach out and touch him, she would at least make it fun for her. y/n only quickened her pace if their line of focus connected. As soon as Tom stared directly into her eyes, she would start her movements but if he turned away to enjoy the moment, everything would stop. It went like this before Tom had quite enough of it all. Without uttering a single word, Tom wrangle his hands into her soft hair and thrusted right up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat roughly. She gagged loudly, making an awful sound as she attempted to regain her position. He pulled away from her, only to slam right back into her mouth. Unlike her plan beforehand, as he face fucked her, his pace begins to speed up.

y/n was now struggling to hold back her ragged gags as small tears slid out of her eyes. "Pretty girl, all worked out from my cock in your mouth huh?" Tom teased as he relished in the sounds of her cacophony of broken breaths. Just as quickly as he began, he pulled away from her complete. He dropped out of her mouth with a small pop and a trail of saliva that landed on the tops of her breasts. "Get up," to which she happily obliged. As soon as y/n had regained her footing, Tom's hands had completely destroyed her pants. The loose skirt was now in two pieces at her feet, along with her favourite pair of panties. Unfortunately, she didn't even get a second to scold him before he spun her around and slammed her chest against the wall. The pain excited her, it coursed through her torso and down into her legs, causing them to spasm slightly.

Tom looked at her, in the soft moonlight she was glowing. Ass facing him, tits pressed up against the wall. Complete ready for him. Tom gave her a small kiss on her shoulder, this time it truly was meant to be tender but in typical Tom fashion. As soon as his lips left her skin, Tom plunged right up into her. His hand covering her surprised squeal. God did he miss this. Filling her tight pussy right up to the brim. Even after everything they had been through, she still fit him like a glove. Hugged him so perfectly, Tom was worried he was shot his load right into her at this very moment. Sadly, he pushed the thought away and began rocking into her; his hand still covered over her mouth.

y/n could feel every inch of his like this. She could feel just how hard he was ramming into her cunt. Her nails gripped onto the wall in front of her as she whimpered into the palm of his hand. With every snap of his hips, her worries seemed to really melt away. All the tension built up in her body being oiled as he parted her legs to reach a nook in her that she thought impossible. “Tommy, f—fuck, oh my god,” it was incoherent garble. Nonsense talk as her eyes rolled back into her head for a few seconds. His head found the valley of her neck, peppering light kisses a major difference to the rough pace he had adopted.

“What is it sweetness,” Tom gasped right into her ear. The hot air tickling her skin. His other hand gripped callously at her hip, bruising the delicate skin under his fingers. “Come on tell me,” Tom was struggling to keep himself in check. The pure sound of skin against skin as he fucked her ass filled the air, pushing him closer to ecstasy. His hand pulled away from her lips, an immediately low moan tumbled from her lips. y/n waited for her body to response to anything, everything thrown out the window every time his dick hit her perfect spot inside of her.

“Har—harder,” she strained through strings of vulgarities and chants of his name. Tom smirked at her, she caught it before he pulled away from her. Tom started to slow his movements, observing how she swallowed him whole every time he thrusted into her tight hole.

“You really want it harder sweetness?” Tom asked, he was just as desperate for a release as she was. y/n nodded her head furiously, words seeming to fail her at this instance. “Turn around,” he ordered, she swivelled around to face him. Her once neat hair now a mess of pleasure tugged strains. Her lids fluttering shut and her cheeks flushed. She looked like a Greek statue. Tom bent and lifted her over his shoulders, earning a tiny giggle from his huffing wife above him. He frantically sprinted over to their bed and promptly chucked her on it. The force knocking a bit of wind out of her.

In a flash of actions, her face had been pressing into the mattress and her ass high up in air. Tom gave it a light smack before lining up and pounding right into her. Both of them let out a soft line of curses. It had never been this intense in their entire relationship.

The room was silent. Nothing could be heard outside but inside was a different idea. Tom brought her hips down roughly onto him, matching his tattered speed. y/n’s breaths were muffled by the cover of the blanks, her hands desperate for anything to latch onto for support as he fucks her relentlessly. It a beautiful mixture of sounds. Nothing like the soft breaths and gasps on a normal night. While those still as amazing as now, this was pure unfiltered animalistic need. No feelings, just a fantastic way to blow off incredible tense steam. Tom usually adored staring at her as her face scrunched up in pleasure but something about how every time his cock rammed up into her, everything moved with his thrusts. It was memorising, as if a painting had been brought to life. y/n had lost track of time during this, so focused on the way he was able to stretch her so wide that she had completely forgot how long she had been lying here. She didn’t dwell on it for too long before the divine familiar feeling presented itself to her, dwelling at the pit of her stomach.

“Go faster, I’m going t—to come,” she pleaded, lifting her head up for only a moment before diving right back into her muffled screams. Tom growled at this, picking up his already forceful speed. While he tried, his thrusts became sloppy and jagged.

“Come with me sweetness,” he whispered to her, his fingered rubbing cathartic circles on her sensitive clit. The sensation on her bud rupturing another last piece of sanity in her body.

With a final thrust, both y/n and Tom came. A relief as both almost shouted out in absolute ecstasy, their juices mixing together in a beautiful sense of the terms. y/n’s toes curled as she felt it all, every little piece of tension, anger and lust all combine and explode inside of her. Tom wasn’t even the slightest but worried as he had been before this had begun. His sweaty forehead lay against her spine, as his wife attempted to catch her breath. Slowly he pulled out of her, his cum leaking out of her. A sight he would love to have burned into his vision for the rest of his life.

“Feel better?” Tom asked her as he threw himself next to her. y/n turned to face him and for the first time that night an honest grin appeared on her face. A grin given to her by whatever relief she had received moments before.

“Much,” she replied.

━━★✼☆｡