#like. she reaches towards the storm in curiosity in her sleep. but then she fights back when she’s awake

[shorthaltsjester]

free my complex female character, she did the same thing as complex male characters but the fandom takes Any analysis of her actions/choices/motivations that doesn’t strip her of all of her agency in bad faith and claims that only misogynists would dare to critique the things that they’ve noticed in her character because she’s a woman, completely ignoring the over-presence of discourse about similarly traited male characters in their fandom.

[poorwritingandstalecoffee]

Can I request Alcina with a firefighting gf that comes home after fighting a large fire all day? All tired, smelling like smoke and covered in soot and gf just wants to curl up to Alcina?

Ooo, I love this idea!!! I need to sleep because my eyes and head are hurting from exhaustion but I’ll give ya a sneak peak at what's to come.

************

Title: There’s a storm of fire and fury burning in your eyes

Pairing: Alcina x Reader

*sneak peak of what I have so far*

**********

You were always drawn to fire; ever since you were little, the bright sparks of fury called out to you with a dangerous, alluring nature that had often led you to lean in with curiosity and wonder swirling in your eyes. The sparkling reds and yellows would warm your skin, set a tingling sensation alight within your stomach that made your heart race, and step closer to the raging flames with excitement and adrenaline coursing through your blood.

It wouldn't be until your teen years that you discovered just how genuinely deceiving and hazardous those hot flames were when you were forced to bear the brute force of their scorching pain and the suffocating smoke as you woke to red hot blazes running up the curtains of your old bedroom. You remember how those firey limbs reached out to lick at your heels as you raced to your little sibling’s room to drag them out of slumber and away from the fire engulfing the walls. The memory of screaming for your parents through the choking smoke and feeling it burn down your throat and through your lungs was forever etched into your mind. All you could feel was the weight of your little brother’s body press down on your back as you carried him down the stairs and tried to blindly trek through the thick smoke that was building on top of you. The fire was roaring and raging its hell above and around you, and all you could think of what that you still had not found your parents and had you already passed their bedroom? Or was it in the other direction, toward the hallway that was swallowed by flames? You remember so clearly to this day of the paralyzing fear that gripped you when the thought of being too late settled itself into your mind. As you stood still among the dancing fires and the blackening smoke, as you heard the house groan in agony and felt the walls buckle and shift under the merciless beating of the blistering flames, as you listened to your little brother cry and scream in your ear you felt your heart tear itself in two as you turned and ran in the opposite direction. Pushing through the smoke, bumping past burning indiscernible objects, and using your scorched fingers to feel your way to the front door and burst through with roaring flames chasing after you.

After that, you had come to view fire and all its maddening destructiveness with a hatred that consumed you, much like how those voracious burning flames of white-hot energy had consumed your parents. Since then, you gazed upon Mother Nature’s fiery with wary bitterness and made it your mission to become the best female firefighter of your class. You pushed yourself through every training course and aced through every test just to have the ability never to let another soul experience that horrible, screaming, terrorizing pain.

That is how you found yourself working at one of the finest firehouse stations in your city. The feeling of soot clinging to your skin rarely seemed to go away, and it seemed like all you could smell now, at least while you were on duty, was acrid smoke. After running from one burning building to the next and barely getting enough time to scarf down a meal you were ready to go home and collapse into the safe arms of Alcina. Alcina. The very reason you give every ounce of strength you have into pushing back fires instead of letting them consume you. Okay, maybe not the only reason; her daughters, your brother, and she were the reasons why you chose to wake up every day and race back into those all too familiar flames to drag people out to safety

[ellitx]

Chapter 13: Fidelity

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to _suucrose

word count: 2.9k

           In sun and clouds, the church spire reached into that every stretching blue. It was as if it spoke of the love of the community towards their god, that it too lasted in any weather and called on them to join and put their faith in him.

           When Aether and Paimon walked along the nave, the church choir was different compared to the other choirs that didn’t sing hymns. Their voice was almost like angels, high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, and they sang for the Anemo Archon only.

           The two waited to finish their practice before looking for a certain deaconess that might help them gather more information they needed. It wasn’t long before Barbara noticed them and approached the two with a welcoming smile.

           “Hello, Honorary Knight. What brings you here today?” 

           Paimon flew over her and leaned closer for a much better closeness to ask. 

           “We would like to ask you something about Barbatos!” She exclaimed fervently whilst she placed her small arms in front of her chest. A bright smile was then donned on the deaconess’s face, her blue eyes sparkling in delight at her words.

           “Oh! Are you two perhaps interested in serving Mondstadt’s very own Anemo archon as well?” Her tone had an obvious enthusiasm in it. Aether already felt bad that’s not what they were here for, and be that as it may, he still has to prioritize in searching for his lost sibling.

           “That’s not the case. We wanted to ask if by any chance the Anemo archon has a lover.”

           Barbara’s small pink lips parted trying to utter a single word however a short chuckle was what came from her mouth. It surprised them and was confused if they said something odd. Her delicate hands were now placed on her mouth to stifle her laughs, apologizing in between them, as small tears form from the corner of her eyes.

           “Sorry for suddenly laughing. I wasn’t expecting that’ll be your question. But to answer that, there are no stories or mentions if Barbatos had a lover or not in the past. If he did, it would’ve already been written in the books and be sung by the bards everywhere. You celebrated the Windblume Festival, right?" 

        The two gestured their heads as a yes. "Since you already know it's a festival about love and freedom, wouldn't the Windblume Festival be celebrated for both of them instead of Barbatos only? But just as I have said before, there were no tales about the God of Freedom having a lover.”

           Something clicked inside his head though it didn’t last for long as it suddenly fades away like a speckle of dust. 

           “That’s true…” He turned to look at Paimon who was all troubled and disturbed.

           He continued to listen further if there’ll be more clues but it seems like that’s the only information he’ll get for now. His companion looked at him then held her aching head to alleviate the small ringing echoing in her ears.

           “Paimon’s running out of brain juice and my head is hurting the more Paimon thinks about this…” The throbbing in her head told her it was time to rest someplace quiet, to ride out the pile of confusion within her brain.

           Aether nodded and massaged his forehead in hopes to ease the pain. Why does he suddenly feel so lightheaded? He shook his head and pushed himself forward to carry out his plan on giving the pendant back to you. Words of gratitude were what Barbara received from the blonde and she waved them a goodbye to continue her choir practice with the other members of the Favonius Church.

           “Are we going back to the lair?” Paimon asked. Aether hummed in affirmation as they stepped outside of the parish. The harsh sunlight caused him to squint his eyes and cover his face with his arm. Was it always this hot for this season? The sudden change of the climate made him so lightheaded than ever. 

           Paimon detected how pale he looks as if he’d been painted with white-wash— even his lips were barely there. It was as if his heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down into his boots. He swayed just for a moment, then with one step backward, he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings.

—

  Birds trill, sweetly high, the chorus as playful as the birds themselves. With closed eyes, Venti imagined their music to color, painting stairs in the same way grapevines grow - this way and that, in a beautiful harmony that isn't quite random. 

           Along with your soft humming, it made the ambiance much more relaxing and calm for him. In the calm of the day, his heartbeat is the steady drum to your melody and he seeps into the moment, allowing himself to drown in your beautiful voice.

           You rubbed the petals of the red flower between your fingers, watching your skin take on the sunny hue. Venti had spent the entire afternoon lying down on your lap and listening to your canorous tunes that made him forget about everything— as if you two were the only ones in this world with no one to intervene in such a peaceful moment he has with you.

           You watched the petal rotate and awed in admiration as a flower’s petal is able to spin like wind wheels. 

           “Hey, Venti,” You called out to him and peered down to peek at his sleeping face. Your lover hummed in drowsiness before opening one of his eyes to look at you. Dragging the flower close to him, he shifted to get a proper look at what you’re holding.

           “What flower is this?”

           You’ve always been a curious one. Even before you were in a coma. It’s like you have a passion in you to know every single thing about this world. From small creatures to rare species of beings in the wildlife, anything that catches your interest and you're eager to know more about it.

           Your drive to find answers is one of your unique traits he’s grown to love the more he’s with you. You create yourself in that fire of ongoing need that focuses everything that you are. And you do it because it feels as if the finding of the answer is your personal mission, your reason for being, your way of belonging and giving.

           It came to him if your curiosity will cross the line. Will it come to you that he’s been hiding his identity from you? Or will you still continue to live life with him in pure denseness? Either way, if you managed to find out he’ll find a way to have you forget what you witness. 

           For now, he has to be cautious and prevent you from exploring the outside world. Especially if that traveler is around in his land. It’s no good if you meet him. With the help of the humming winds to let him know what’s happening, it occurred to him that he has to just patiently wait and prevent you and Aether from crossing paths.

           Venti held your soft hands in his palms and took the flower from you. A small and gentle smile appeared on his face as he leaned forward and pressed his temple against yours, placing the plant close to your chest.

           “It’s Windwheel Asters.” He answered and observed how your eyes sparkled in joy when you watched the petals continue to spin.

           “I haven’t seen these before.” 

           Venti lightly chuckled and placed the flower between your hands as he returned to resting himself against you, but this time his head was now on your shoulder. “Windwheel Asters cannot grow in places with no wind nor plagued by strong storms, only where the wind is gentle and nourishing.” 

           “Really?” You laid your head against his and fiddled with the stem. If these floras are really unable to grow in harsh winds, then it means Old Mondstadt’s storms have truly vanished without any traces left. 

           Peace and harmony at last. 

           Freedom is finally with you.

           You lifted your hand up against the sunlight and marvel at how simple it is. It may not look as fancy as the cecilias nor does it resemble feathered wings of a dandelion when blown away, but you found yourself liking this more than what Venti had given you.

           It’s not like you don’t appreciate his efforts for collecting every cecilias and dandelions in this region to create a wonderful garden for your eyes to fancy with, you still are grateful for it though you do wonder why did he not include these asters in the collection?

           “I kind of like this. It reminds me of you.”

           Now that made him fully awake.

           “Me?”

           The color-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile, your eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. It was the blush of roses, that peek of champagne pink. Nodding your head to him, you brought the flower close to your face to cover your flushing features.

           “You were always fighting for freedom. If it weren’t for you, we won’t be able to see the skies and birds you’ve always wished for. I really admire your perseverance and passion to fight against my father to have the city liberated from his hands. Thank you. Thank you for revolting against him. Thank you for giving everyone freedom they’ve longed for.”

           You suddenly felt your throat tightened and your breath hitching every now and then. With your shoulders shaking and chin trembling, you fear he might see you in such a vulnerable state. You lowered your head even more and let your hair cover your face. Even if you hide it from him, Venti can still see small drops of liquid falling from you until it turns into a small puddle on the back of your hand.

           “[Name]…?”

           “Even though I’m Decarabian’s daughter, you never looked or treated me differently. Even after the war has ended, you never leave me. And now father, mother, and the knight… they’re all gone and y-you survived. You still stayed with me until I woke up…  I… I was so scared that once I awoke, I won’t be able to see you.”

           You were wiping your cheeks every few seconds and gulping down the lump sitting on your throat. Sniffling quietly, the tears still threatened to spill from your eyes. Your lover gently clutched your hand and used his other hand to lift your chin up to look at him.

           Your eyes were red and swollen. It shatters his heart seeing you like this as your tears split over and flowed down your face like a river escaping a dam. Using his finger to dry your damp face, he brushed his lips on your temple and laced your fingers together.

           “I should be the one thanking you.” He muttered and brought your intertwined fingers up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Without your support, I don’t know how things would end up. If he— if I hadn’t saved you back then, you’d be locked up in that tower. Things would go differently, wouldn’t they? I can’t bring myself the idea of leaving you there when they were chasing after you.”

           He pushed you until your back was leaning against the rough trunk of the tree. His other arm was propped beside your face before he rested his head on your shoulder and nuzzled closely.

           “Thank you. Thank you for always being here with me.” Even though his voice was muffled, you can hear him loud and clear through your teary state. A shaky smile came from you as you caressed his hair lovingly before leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him.

           “I love you. I love you so much, Venti.”

           He has lived long enough to know that what you share he can’t replicate it with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and him. He could travel the world and the seven regions to create new ballads; he’d still come right back at you if he wanted true love. 

           He has protected you for years, he’s your confidant, a true friend, and even a lover. The trust he gave you, you gave him, is what keeps both of you safe in this world, in this life. So whether his heart beats another day or another hundred years— it’s always yours.

           Meeting Venti was more of a coincidence than a fate. Yet it was the first time in your life you felt like you could be yourself around him. Memories of meeting him have become the same as the dream you play time and time again. You felt good with him in a way you haven’t been before or since.

           Hearing those three eternal words from you is surreal for him. His heart would beat madly and his stomach churn in such a way excitement and happiness is filling his entire system. He wants to hear from you again.

           Just once more so he can finally have you all to himself.

           His chest was burning hot and so was his heart that rapidly beats in great euphoria. He can sense your emotions when you cry but this feeling… it’s much more different than he had felt before. A burning desire. He’s so smitten of your entire existence. All words coming from you were all his, he grasps each phrase and corresponds with his own loving and affectionate words.

           He was brought out from his trance when he felt how warm his palm is, and it’s when he became aware his hand was now placed on your cheek just like how he brings your hand to cup his face. 

           Venti felt his face heat up at such a simple gesture and when you give a short and quick chaste kiss on his lips, he recognized the first brightest and sweet smile for this day was painted on your graceful visage.

           “I love you.”

           His wish was heard when you repeated your confession at him. Is it finally working? Were his efforts finally paid off? Before Ludi Harpastum was the Windblume, a festival where they offer windblumes to their loved ones and to the Anemo Archon. Every year, every time Mondstadt celebrates Windblume, his first priority is to give you cecilias.

           He collected them for you every year. He tends them very well until they bloom— until your eyes opened. For him, windblumes are the cecilias. A symbol of elegance, purity, and just as ethereal as your gentle heart. It may be different from what that really means as interpreted by the people of Mond, but for Venti, he feels freedom when he’s with you, he feels loved when he’s with you and it’s the reason why he gathered so many flowers for you while you were asleep.

           The arrangement given to him by the former Dendro Archon— she proposed the idea to him to gather flowers for you every time they feast Windblume. He can still clearly remember her words, her voice echoing in his head saying that even she may part from this world. 

           Her predictions for her own life were accurate. As if she already expected this to happen to her and that’s why she’s planning ahead to list all the preconditions to him to keep you safe and harmless. Barbatos can’t keep relying on her on everything and that is why he put a lot of effort into maintaining the garden.

           Yesterday night was the time of the ceremony. Venti prepped everything to make it perfect, he wanted it to be successful. A mimic of a dance he once saw when he and you were together ages ago, it was a secret you both hid but he knows this. Barbatos knows what happened during that time and pretended as if he weren't there.

           But now that he was able to dance it with you, one would call him shameless for stealing you from him. The heavy weight on his shoulder was now lifted away, finally free from the guilt he’s been feeling for centuries. His inner battle with himself is fully resolved, inner conflicts vanished, a conflict between his love and longing for you.

           Your words eased Venti and made him assured you love him back as well. If you haven’t said a single word about your own feelings, he’d be living in an illusory fantasy that you were only shy to tell him you love him very much. But ever since the bond has been created, all he hears is I love you’s from you for his ears to delight in.

           “I love you,”

           You repeated once, a faint brush of your lips against his made him shudder. Soft, gentle, and shy just like your personality. Twice when you parted away, grasping how he tastes like apples before meekly leaning on him once more for a kiss but with more vigor. Your hand clutched the front of his shirt when you felt him hold you the small of your waist to pull you against him.

           “I love you.”

           Thrice was words of tenderness and desire from you to him. At that moment, you felt your body flushed warm. This was a person you wanted to be with than you’d ever felt before. 

           Venti has always been the one you could love forever.

@trust-the-oxygen​

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

Next Door Neighbor🔥 (H.H)

Warnings: Smut. (18+ only)

Masterlist

This was the third time this week that you heard screaming and doors slamming across the hall. You weren't trying to be nosy by any means, but the walls in the building were thin, so even when you weren't listening you could still hear everything.

He had told her at the beginning of the week that he was done, that their relationship was over, but she kept on coming back like nothing had ever happened and that is what caused all the fighting.

You peaked your head out the door and saw her storming down the hallway, cussing under her breath and moping. It was a pathetic sight honestly. The boys that lived across the hall were good people. You knew both of them from brief encounters in the hall and a few parties with some mutual friends, but nothing serious.

The door across the hall opened and Harry stepped out to see if the girl had gone, but saw you standing there.

"Sorry about the noise y/n" he said apologetically. You shook your head.

"Don't be, it seems like you're having a week," you told him, you couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Yeah, that's an understatement." He muttered running his fingers through his curly red hair.

"Wanna talk about it? I have coffee, tea, or beer? Little early for beer but you look like you may need it." you offered. He looked to the end of the hall and considered the offer for a few seconds. 

"You know, a cup of tea sounds pretty nice right now" he told you, walking out of his doorway and pulling the door shut behind him. You opened up your door letting him into your cozy apartment, you were a clean freak so there was no clutter or embarrassing mess's you had to rush to clean. Just a tidy, cozy apartment. "Weird," he muttered under his breath as you stood at your stove putting on a kettle.

"What is?" You asked him.

"Oh our apartments have the same layout, yet yours is so much nicer," he laughed.

"Well I live alone, and am a girl. You and your friend are boys, so naturally you're messier," you teased.

"Brother," he corrected.

"Is he?" You asked, you thought they looked similar but didn't want to assume.

"Twin brother actually," he laughed as he ran his fingers through his hair. You noticed he did that a lot.

"That explains the similar features," you laugh as the kettle starts screaming. You go to grab it but your hand slips and you burn the tips of your fingers. "Oh fuck," you mumble pulling your hand away and grabbing your fingers. You feel Harry's hands grasp your shoulders and you look up to see him standing close behind you with a concerned look spread across his face.

"Are you OK?" He asks as he grabs your hand to inspect your fingers.

"Ahh, I'll be OK. You'd be surprised at how often this actually happens," you admit.

"Burn cream?" He asks and you motion your head towards the cupboard you have all the medicine in and quickly realize there is also a box of condoms. Unopened of course but your face still flushes a red hue as he opens the cupboard and fishes around for the cream. You hear a quiet chuckle escape his lips and you're sure he is judging you now. He turns around with the cream in his hand and motions for you to give him your hand. You feel so small in his large hands and your mind starts to wander, you shake your head to try and get the dirty ideas away from your mind. It had been months since you had been with anyone, and even at that, the night had ended horrible and you had sworn you would never sleep with a man again.

"What is it?" He asked you his own curiosity, wanting to know what you were thinking.

"Oh, it's nothing," you giggle. He looks up at your face, your eyes turned down so as not to look him in his eyes and your mouth upturned in a sweet seemingly innocent smile, but he knew you couldn't be all innocent.

"You know Durex changed their packaging about six months ago, think you may want to check the expiration on those rubbers in there," he told you, your eyes shot up to his in shock and horror.

"Oh my god," you laughed, trying to hide your complete embarrassment with humor. "Thanks, if I ever find myself using them I'll make sure to check that," you joked. His mind ran wondering if you meant you preferred sex without or maybe you were just in a dry spout, of course he was to respectful to ask, or that's what he thought, but the words came out of his mouth without a second thought. "Safe sex is good sex, you know?" He bit his check realizing how stupid that had sounded but you just giggled.

"That's why I have them dork," you say, pushing his shoulder with your unburned hand.

"Oh. OH. Sorry, that was an intrusive thing to say," he muttered while still rubbing the cream on your fingers, he could have stopped some time ago, but for some reason he just didn't want to put your hand down.

"Kind of endearing, your concern of my sex life, no matter how non-existent it may be," you laughed. He looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"Non-existent huh?" He wonders aloud finally letting Your finger go from his hands.

"Definitely non-existent," you laugh, feeling a tad sorry for yourself. He turned off the stove and moved the kettle from the burner, making the screeching slowly subside to quietness.

“So what's the story? Bad boyfriend?” He asked you. You considered giving a short answer avoiding the tragedy that had been your love life, but thought to yourself, You know what the hell.

“Last, few have just been selfish and self centered. I tried to make it work with each of them, but a girl has needs you know? I feel guys seem to forget that and once they get what they want they lose interest,” You shrug your shoulders as you walk to another cupboard grabbing two mugs and finding two tea bags. You went to grab the kettle again but harry quickly stepped in giving you a ‘here let me smile,’ before pouring the steaming water himself. 

“Do you mean in the relationship or in bed?” He asks quietly. You giggle feeling a bit odd with how open you were being.

“Both, I guess.” You say grabbing the mug and swirling the bag around the water.

“So they just got themselves off, then dipped?” He asked. He knew you didn't need to provide him with the details, but he was curious.

“Something like that. You know it's sad, I've never had an orgasm that someone else caused,” You laughed and slowly regretted opening your mouth.

“Wait seriously?” Harry was shocked at the words that had just left your mouth.

“I'm not sure why I just told you that, anyway I invited you in to talk about you, not me. So what's with that girl anyway,” you asked him trying hard to get him to forget the words you had just said.

He sighed, “She's crazy, can't take a hint, or a direct order. I broke up with her a month ago believe it or not, but she keeps showing up like nothing ever happened. I'm on the verge of getting a restraining order,” He laughed. You shook your head feeling sorry for him, knowing how crazy some people could be. He told you a bit about why the relationship had turned so toxic and how he had just had enough and had to call it quits. You guys moved from the kitchen to the living room, discussing random things and just enjoying each other's company.

“I'm sorry but I have to know,” He said, interrupting your explanation of why you chose to not have a TV in your living room.

“Huh?” you asked him, unsure of what he was asking.

“So you have never had an orgasm?” he pondered. You feel your cheeks go red but laugh at the question anyway.

“No, I've had orgasms, just by my own hand, if you get what i mean,” You tell him, sure he’ll understand exactly what you mean.

“Damn,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes, “I'm not going to lie y/n that's sad and hot at the same time,” he laughs.

“Not just sad,” You laughed. You stared at Harry, who now had a wicked grin on his face, but was looking away from you. “I'm going to get a beer,” You announced getting up. You giggled at him, not knowing what to say at this point. This whole conversation had just gone everywhere and anywhere you hadn't expected.

"I bet you I could," he muttered under his breath.

"You could do what?" You asked him, unsure if he had meant for you to hear him.

"Make you orgasm," he said, this time more clearly. You felt your cheeks flush red and your stomach tighten at the thought. Harry was an attractive man. He was hot. He was also your neighbor. Things could get complicated if anything happened. They would get complicated. Was that something you were willing to deal with to please your curiosity.

You didn't have time to answer your own question before Harry was in front of you, looking down at you, standing in your kitchen.

For a second your mind shuts down. You were prepared to tell him no. That it was a terrible idea. You were. So when your hand reached out and touched Harry's cheek before leaning in with him and letting your lips touch, well let's just say your curiosity always seemed to get the best of you.

The kiss was soft and sweet, at first. You hadn't been kissed or touched in far too long and so when he pushed you up against the fridge pulling your body as close to him as possible, you felt excited, and your wet panties could show for it. Your hands were all tangled in his hair pulling him down to your hungry lips. His hands kept moving between your but and your back like he wasn't sure where he should be touching, though I don't think there was a play book for situations like this.

He broke away from your lips and grabbed you by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Harry!" You exclaimed, erupting in giggles by the motion.

"The kitchen is no place for the things I want to do to you," he smirked. You were shocked by the amount of confidence that was radiated from him, and he was determined to make you orgasm. He needed to, for his own curiosity. Once in your bedroom he placed you on your bed and pushed you down so you were laying on your back. You had on a plain black t-shirt and a pair of black shorts. He climbed into your bed, above you and began to leave soft wet kisses on your neck and down to your exposed collar bone before reaching down to the bottom of your shirt to pull it up. You sat up slightly and pulled the shirt over your head so all that was left on your torso was you see through white lace bralette. His eyes examined your boobs in awe before moving on to kissing and nibbling at them. Once his mouth reached your hardened nipples under the lace of your bra he let his teeth graze over them making a moan slip from your lips. He liked that, he moved on until his lips were at the top of your shorts and he looked at you for permission, to slide them down. You nodded slowly, thinking about how crazy this all was. He hooked his fingers in the hem of your shorts and you raise your hips as he pulls them down your legs. He grabs your knees, and pushes them apart as he lowers himself to your core. You know you're wet, from just the slight kissing and heavy petting that had happened. He runs his finger along the outside of your underwear, and looks up at you, raised eyebrows.

“All this for me princess?” He asks, and all you can do is hum in response.

He pushes your panties to the side and slides his finger between your slits, gathering all the wetness that had been building up just at the thought of him doing anything to you. He found your little bundle of nerves and started drawing little figure eights switching direction every few times, making your back arch as a loud gasp escaped your mouth.

He dipped his head down between your thighs placing small kisses on the insiders of your legs, his curly, unruly hair tickling you slightly, before replacing his fingers with his mouth. He moves his tongue around you like he is a trained expert, hitting every spot and then some. You feel his fingers return to your folds, before gently pushing one inside and curling it upwards. The feeling of having every hot spot stimulated makes you feel like your melting into the mattress, you reach out and your fingers find themselves intertwined in his curly hair, you let out a few moans and a few curses before you feel like all the tension that has built up is about to explode, And harry can tell by the tightening of your walls around his fingers.

“Come for me Y/N” He says, barely lifting his mouth away from you, and maybe that was all you needed, cause with his encouragement you feel the most intense orgasm wash over you. Harry dips his mouth back down and continues his work until you're a quivering mess.

“Dear god,” You gasp. Harry lifts himself back up and joins you on the bed, he gives you a minute to gather your soul to return it to your body before he leans in and whispers in your ear.

“I hope your ready for more, cause were nowhere near done,”

And just like that, your neighbor Harry became something so much more

[beauvibaby]

leave me alone – t.seguin

a/n: shocking, I didn’t proof read this

After the first loss, you could tell Tyler was taking it rough, he always did. He didn’t talk about it, the second you guys walked in the door he was dragging you to bed and using you as a pillow, he fell asleep like that, with you playing with his hair and his head on your chest, his hand loosening its grip on your waist as he drifted off. You kissed his forehead and somehow shimmied out from under him to get ready for bed, a solemn look on your face at the still pained expression on his face.

The second loss went like that too, he spoke, barely. He said he didn’t want to talk about it, you simply assured him if he changed his mind, you would be there to listen. That earned you a genuine smile and a kiss full of love before he fell back asleep. Again–you went through the same routine, wishing he would just talk it out instead of harboring it all in.

The third loss, that’s where it all changed.

He stormed out of the car and into the house before you even had a chance to undo your seatbelt, your eyebrows raised in surprise as he slammed the door. “Oh.” You whispered, scrambling to grab your things, rushing inside to join him. When you opened the door you heard him slamming things around in the kitchen and the dogs were watching him skeptically. “Ty?” You called out, setting your purse down on the hook, slipping your shoes off as well. “Kitchen.” He grumbled in response, you trudged over wearily, the dogs staying close to you as they could tell he was angry. “Baby, what are you doing?” You asked softly, he was making himself a drink, which didn’t bother you, he never got drunk, but he always refused to drink when he was angry because he just knew it would make it worse. “What does it look like?” He quipped, downing the whiskey like it was nothing, you grimaced as he slammed the cup down. Thankfully not pouring himself another one. He stayed silent, hands gripping the edge of the counter, he looked beyond frustrated, and you weren’t sure what to do, what he wanted. You walked over to him.

He glanced down at you when you placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles with your thumb. You looked up at him with wide eyes and a soft smile, “did you want to talk about it bub?” You whispered. He stared blankly at you for a moment. The thought of saying it out loud made him disgusted. Admitting that he felt like a failure, to you, to the girl he was supposed to take care of at all costs, that terrified him–and so he became defensive, which meant he snapped at you. “Can’t you just leave me alone? You don’t have to fucking coddle me!” He snapped, stepping out of your grip. Your face fell, taking a step back by his sudden movements. “I’m only doing what you’ve been making me do after every game! I’m just trying to help.” You spoke pointedly but at a normal volume, “just go.” He muttered, venom dripping from his voice as he stomped up the stairs to your shared room. You stood there for a moment, letting the tears fall down your cheeks, you tended to the dogs before grabbing your purse and storming out of the house. You had lived with him for a few months, you didn’t know where to go now, it’s not like you could just go to your apartment now.

So you did the next best thing, you got in your car and drove to the closest friends house that you could think of.

You knocked on the door sheepishly, hugging your purse to your chest, you heard the door unlock before it swung open. “Y/N?” Jamie questioned, looking you over, confused as to why you were here so late, and without Tyler no less. “Hey, uhm, this is really awkward but I didn’t know where else to go that wasn’t a long drive.” You rushed your words together, you felt terrible now as you looked at yours and Tyler’s best friend who was equally as exhausted, but everyone else you knew was out of the city. “No, no, it’s ok.” He assured you, stepping aside so you could walk in, “I’m not going to ask, I don’t want to be involved, but you know where everything is, so feel free.” He gave you a soft smile, shutting the door before heading to his room, “goodnight.” He called, “goodnight, thank you Jamie.” You sighed, he brushed it off with a smile before disappearing upstairs. You got yourself a glass of water and made your way to the guest room that was on the main level, sniffling the whole time as you couldn’t believe Tyler had snapped like that.

Meanwhile at Tyler’s house, he was going into a full panic after he took an extended shower, he tried calling you and texting you after he calmed down when he realized you had actually left, but then he saw your phone on the counter. “Shit!” He slammed his hand down on the granite, how could I be so stupid, he thought, tugging on his hair as he couldn’t reach you. How was he going to find you? Or know that you were ok? The dogs were completely ignoring him, which only made him feel worse, as if they knew how rude he had been to you. An idea popped into his head, did he want to get him involved?

Jamie groaned as he was nearly asleep and his phone started blaring beside his bed, “hello?” He mumbled without checking who it was. “Jamie, uh, Y/N and I, well really I snapped at her, and she left without her phone and I’m freaking out man.” Tyler rambled into his ear, and Jamie had to stifle back a laugh as he knew you were perfectly fine sleeping downstairs. Curiosity got the best of him, “what did you do?” He questioned, climbing out of bed, slowly and quietly walking down the stairs. “Fuck–uh, she was trying to get me to talk to her and I just got pissed and told her to leave me alone, and to leave.” Tyler whispered, Jamie froze halfway down the steps, equally as pissed as you were. “What the hell? How could you do that?” Jamie chastised him, everyone on the team was grateful for your presence in Tyler’s life, because it put you in their life too. You went above and beyond for anyone on that team, whether it was as simple as them mentioning they haven’t had a home cooked meal in so long, or if they needed advice with their relationships. No matter what it was, you were there. “I don’t know! Ok, I just didn’t want to admit that I feel like I’m letting everyone down.” Tyler finally spoke how he was feeling, and the weight lifted off his shoulders really made him feel worse for being so rude to you. “I’m just worried, what if she got into an accident.” Tyler quickly diverted the subject off of him, Jamie huffed and pushed open the guest room door to see you passed out without even going under the blankets.

He pressed his phone between his shoulder and his ear as Tyler continued to ramble his concerns, Jamie pulled a blanket over you, laughing under his breath when you whispered a small thank you in your half asleep state. Before he could ask if you wanted to talk to Tyler you were knocked out again. Jamie walked back out of the room, carefully shutting the door. “Holy shit.” He cursed, hearing Tyler sniffle on the other end of the line, “are you crying?” He gasped, patiently waiting for his friend to answer. “She never leaves without her phone, Jamie.” Tyler muttered, inadvertently answering his question. “She’s fine, I just checked on her.” Jamie spoke easily, listening to Tyler who sighed in relief. “You knew she was there this whole time!” Tyler shouted, “yes, and I made you suffer a little bit longer because you needed to realize how idiotic it was to pick a fight over that.” Jamie snapped, “now, I’m going to bed, don’t come over here, just let her sleep, and I’m sure she’ll be going back to you in the morning.” He demanded to his friend, who only muttered an agreement before hanging up.

***

You woke up so much earlier than you normally did, but you decided it would be best to just sneak out while Jamie was still asleep, avoiding any mortifying embarrassment. You left a note on his coffee pot, knowing that would be his first stop, simply writing a thanks on it.

When you pulled up to the house, the sun had just begun to show, only then did you realize this whole time you didn’t have your phone, you felt a little guilty, wondering if he had even tried to reach you last night. You went in through the garage, hearing the dogs jump up at your presence, they scurried over, swarming you with happy barks and tails swinging. “Shh, you don’t want to wake daddy.” You spoke down to the dogs, “do you wanna go out?” You added, ushering them to the back door, quietly letting them out before searching for your phone. Once you found it, you were relieved to see multiple messages and calls from Tyler, until you figured he must’ve seen your phone and gave up. You shoved it into your pocket before going to search for him, you were heading towards the stairs when you heard movement from the living room, you turned and let out a soft gasp when you saw Tyler asleep on the couch, hair a mess and worry etched onto his face.

You tiptoed over to him, pulling the blanket up to cover him when he stirred, he quickly opened his eyes and shot up when he saw you standing there. He pulled you down to his lap, hugging you tightly, you stayed silent and still, waiting for his apology. “Baby, oh my god.” He breathed out, finally leaning back to look at your stone cold face. “I’m so sorry, I was angry at myself, and I took it out on you.” He rushed, cupping your face, “I didn’t want to admit that I was letting you down, letting the team down.” He added, watching as your face began to soften, “you could never let me down, Tyler.” You whispered, placing your hands over yours. “I’m still hurt that you said that, you know that was one of my biggest fears when I moved in.” You sighed, it was true, when you moved in you had told him you were worried about what would happen when you guys fought. “I know, baby, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve said that, I should’ve talked to you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, relieved when you didn’t pull away from him, you curled into his embrace, “I was so scared last night, I was so afraid something happened to you.” He whispered into your hair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, I forgot my phone.” You whispered against his neck, he nodded, “I know.” He kissed your cheek, looking at you softly when you pulled back to look him in the eyes. You cupped his jaw, leaning in to kiss him slowly, melting into the action, his hands on your hips pulling you closer. “Can we talk about it now? I think that would be good, for both of us.” You mumbled once you pulled away, he nodded, “yes, please.”

taglist: @vinceduhn​ @kempe​ @jackiesquinn​ @josty​ @kiedhara​ @literarycharleton​

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Loss

The secretary flinched on her seat when she heard the glass door of the hospital shattering and yelped in fear when THE Overhaul slammed his fists on her desk, eyes burning with rage as he almost shouted.

"(L/n) (Y/n). Tell me where the fuck is her. NOW." she trembly nodded while picking her notebook on and the telephone.

He had received a call on the middle of a meeting, mentally rolling his eyes in irritation as he excused himself and accepted the call.

The way his eyes had widen in horror and how he stormed out of the room made everyone not only scared, but each one to have certain curiosity and worrover the situation.

What happened to let Overhaul on that state?

A doctor came by along with his nurse and Chisaki grabbed the hem of his jacket, the glare he was still wearing seemed like fire was going to spill from them by any moment while he demanded thhat he spilled out what the fuck had happened.

"S-She suffered a accident." The doctor gasped out, breathing in a long sigh of relief when the man let go "A villain fight on the center, the man accompanying her didn't survived but she is still alive." They patted their clothing, shakily looking up at the fuming man in front of them.

"The ambulance found her phone and saw it on her emergency contacts yout number. You're family or friend?"

"Mind your own business and let me in." He shoved past the doctor and abruptly entered the room, ignoring the nurses pleas for him to wait.

The sign of your bruised and beaten up image made him want to vomit... the bandaged wrapped around your head as your hair was sprawled out on the pillow you were laying on...

He felt his throat tightening as his eyes seemed to burn... slowly reaching the bed to caress your patched up face with his thumb carefully...

The only comforting sounds he heard on that cursed cold room were the beeping of the machine... indicating that you were unconscious, but alive no less.

"Get the fuck out." He muttered angrily as his hands turned into shaking fists, the doctors and nurses frowing but yet respecting his demand.

He carefully grabbed your hand on his both gloved ones as he took the seat next to you... He controlled the urge of shouting and letting his tears fall as he numbly stared at the bedsheets, his attention focused only on the beeping.

~

He ended up falling asleep on that place, head resting on his crossed arms on the bed.

He, for the first time, thanked the heavens for letting him have a light sleep, because he woke up with your stiring and weak groans.

Chisaki jerked up, eyes wide as his lips trembled a bit at seing his angel's eyes finally cracking open.

"(Y/n)..." he breathed, lowering his mask down when you looked at him confusedly "(Y/n)! My angel, thank god!" He, without thinking straight, wrapped his arms around you tightly as he breathed in on your scent and kissed with tears rolling down his face.

He only came to realize later that instead of feeling your arms wrapping around him or even a cute little giggle of yours, your body had tensed up under his hold...

Now it was his time to frow, grapping onto your shoulders as he parted only for a few inches.

"Angel I swear on my grave that I am not sending any garbage to accompany you anymore..." he talked, looking at your confused and quite... feared eyes.

"U-uh..." you awkwardly muttered as you slowly but firmly brought your hands to his gloved ones and took them off from your shoulder... Chisaki arching a eyebrow at your action in total dissaproval when you placed his hands to himself.

Then he widened his eyes in complete horror and disgust, hives appearing om his pale skin as his brain processed those despicable words he never once thought he would hear it from you ever again...

"Who... who are you?"

~

"It seems that after the impact, her brain got affected by the section where it lands the data of her memories..." the doctor spoked as him tapped his finger on his chin while analyzing your X-ray.

Chisaki didn't even dared to say a word... not even being a complete arrogant towards the man as he explained the situation of his partner.

"Her brain is still functioning and she has still her memories from her whole period of school aparently."

"... then why?" He asked in a numb tone as he stared at his closed gloved hands.

"It seems to be a rare type of amnesia ... she actually remembers all of yesterday's events for example; but due to the blow she must have received, the part where the memory about you is kept was the most affected."

"What's the cure?" He growled immediately, trying to surpress his angry shaking.

"There is no cure mister..." the doctor grunted when Chisaki grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"You as a doctor have the fucking obligation to find a cure or at least treat any diseases on this planet so you got the nerves to say that THIS doesn't have even a fucking treatment?!" He shouted, the doctor still keeping his calm attitude somehow.

"The human brain is a complicated thing... she might return her memories or not. We can't know. The maximum you can do now is try little by little to show what you were to her..." he mentally sighed in relief when Chisaki putted him down slowly "But not everthing, go slow... she might have a combustion or be too much overwhelmed."

His parted lips trembled underneath his mask as he wordless left the office...

You... didn't know him. Didn't know who he was or what he was to you...

He was a stranger. A fucking stranger to your eyes...

He dragged his feet to your room. You were already standing up and fixing up your hair on a mirror before you yelped at noticing his presence.

"Uh, hello..?" You awkwardly gretted him with a uncomfortable smile, not knowing how long he was standing there.

He nodded as in a gretting before his broken hearted eyes locked with your own. You felt pity over the man... the moment you told him you had no idea who he was he panicked, opened the door of that hospital room and shouted for the nurses to come explain this.

"...Come. I... will take you home." You tilted your head in confusion.

"I... no. Thank you for the offer but I-"

"I know where you live..." he muttered the words "I know this sounds stupid... but I am your.." he breath in to control the burning in his eyes as he looked down at the floor "Your boyfriend."

"Eh?" He wanted to chuckle so badly at hearing that precious confused sound... but the situation didn't let him "... I'm sorry. I... don't remember you..."

"They already told me. How does your house look like? Just to make sure." He tried, afraid of hearing that your answer would be that cursed apartment of yours.

"Uh... its a japanese like style house. Has a yard with beautiful trees on." You smiled, making hin want to scream in frustation.

It was his house. The Shie Hassaikai's house. You remembered the damn place but not him.

"... Come with me." He sayed nonchantly as he shived his fists onto his pockets and left the room, you following him right after.

You entered on his car and didn't speaked a word as he drove... afraid of making more weird the situation than it was already.

You recognize the place as he stopped and left the keys with a subordinate.

"Ah so you weren't trying to kidnapped me or something." You tried to joke, but that man's face didn't even twitched out of that broken shattered look as he only nodded and continued to walk.

He noticed that you didn't recognized the people on there either... being extremely awkwardly. Still, you were extremely polite with everyone of them, especially Pops.

He winced at remembering the first he brought you here... your actions being the same but instead lf just closing in yourself liek now, you found some comfort on him on the new area...

Pops patted his shoulder at seing Chisaki's huge amount of pain on his eyes while all he wanted to do was succumb onto his knees and scream until his vocal cords exploded.

You looked even more uncomfortable when he guided you to your shared bedroom. Noticing your embarrassment and... distrustful look.

"Not comfortable sleeping on the same room with a stranger." He more pointed out than asked.

"Yeaaah." You scratched the back of your neck before looking up at him "B-But i can sleep on the couch! You don't need to-"

"Is not necessary." He interrupted "You have all the rights to keep this room." He left without much of a word, only telling you that dinner was going to be soon and if you needed him, all you have to do is call.

You arched one eyebrowd of yours while watching him go away... what a weird guy.

~

Pops told him he wasn't obligated to do those things and even Chrono had offered to take his shift... but he refused it.

He needed to drown on his work to forget this pain and his misery.

A knock on the door had snapped him out of it as he rubbed his eyes and allowed whoever it was to enter.

"Excuse me? Am I bothering you?" You asked shyly.

"Never." He answered with a sigh "Something wrong?"

You took the opportunity to enter and sit on the chair in front of him, the awkward atmosphere still on the air.

"I... you said you're ny boyfriend. Right?" He nodded numbly "What type then? I-I mean. I want to know you... again." You found the strengh to look at those amber eyes.

Boyfriend or not, this man was hot.

"... You want the absolute true or the only love dovey shit?" You giggled at his boldness, making him for the first time smirk underneath his mask.

"Grab that black album from the shelter. I will try my best."

He couldn't help but smile at seing your curiosity as you paced through the pages, asking him the main events before you pointed out awkwardly that this was kostly you on that thing...

"I don't like taking or seing my own photos... But you always kept pressing me to at least have one or two... with those cursed puppy eyes."

"Cursed?" You asked, arching a eyebrow at seing the same elder you greeted earlier on one of those.

"Yes. Every time you use them I can't just say no."

"Ah! So you're the secret softie type!" You smiled at him whole he couldn't help but glare daggers at you.

He breathless chuckled at your gasp when he told you he was part and the leader if the yakusa and in that exact same moment you were underneath their roof.... although he almost choked up when you had noticed the pingent adoring around his neck.

The yingyang. A symbol that represented you both way too well. He cared one side while you carried the other.

You took your own in your hands and the way your eyes squinted while looking at the pingent made his early feelings return back.

Because he knew with that look of yours... you were trying hard to remember... but you couldn't. Your brain wouldn't let you have those memories back...

"Enough." He picked abruptly the album and placed it over the shelf with a sigh. You apologized and got out from his office shortly after... maybe his attitude had scared you... godammit!

He punched the wall until his gloved hand was all bloody and bruised before he let out a miserable shout.

He lost his angel... he lost your memories. His world was nothing but pure darkness now.

~

You giggled at seing both white haired man and the creature smaller than him arguing on the end of the hall as you passed through it.

One week had passed after your accident and now you were pretty used to with everyone on the house.

Well... almost everyone.

Chisaki was the man who revealed to be your boyfriend but now he just seemed even more broken and depressed then you saw him once on that hospital.

You tried really hard to remember him... but nothing about this man came up. You also noticed how angry he got when you called him 'Overhaul' or only 'Chisaki'...

You explained to him that calling him by his firts name was still a bit uncomfortable, he understood that and simply waved you off... but you still noticed the way he gripped or turned his hands into fits whenever you called him.

Everyone on there was trying to make you regain your memories back desperately. You even caught a taller man discussing with a muscular one on the hallway once about the situation.

"If miss (Y/N) don't recover her memories soon, master will get worse than he is already."

"You're fucking lucky Tengai. Overhaul at least didn't used his quirk on you three times in less the one hour only because you had asked how was his chick doing."

"You beg though for this Rappa."

"I WASN'T BEING FUCKING SARCASTIC THIS TIME! I WAS GENUILY ASKING!"

You choosed to not know of his quirk after you heard that in fear of what you might discover...

You made your way to the bedroom and sitted on the bed with sigh, picking your cellphone to mess with since you didn't even touched the device ever since you put your foot on here.

You frowned when the screen showed up, a picture of the man you trued so hard on remembering... he didn't seemed to have the knowledge that he was being photographed as he seemed to be reading something without his mask on for once.

His eyes were serious but calm while he readed the book, and something that made your heart twist on yiur ribcage was that you noticed that his gloved fingers were interconnected with bare ones right on the corner.

It was your hand in there.

You didn't needed to know his whole life to already know that this man had a despised for touch and was a mysophobic... but you catched plenty times him going to reach for your hand or your hair only to pull his hand back with a broken sigh and walk away frrom you as far as possible.

You had to admit that this pained you somehow.

You dropped your cellphone, not feeling like messing around on it anymore as you shivered at a cold breeze that passed through the window...

You didn't like it very much closed places so you opted to get up and grab a hoodie instead of closing the window.

Just when you opened you saw the iconic green jacket that Overhaul always used whenever he was out or when he just felt like it.

Curiosity consumed you as you caustiously picked and holded close... scenting the intoxicating smell that left you feeling like you were in heaven.

You wondered a bit before shameless wearing the coat on, way bigger than you but you felt... safe.

You took another sniff... gasping and dropping into your butt when a bright and rather painful flash came into your head as you fell.

You groaned and placed your hand on the bed as you tried to get up, wincing as another flash came by making you want to scream in pain... before you saw it.

Him. The man. Your... your boyfriend of three years!

Chisaki Kai.. Chisaki Kai! You remembered him!

~

"KAI!" he stopped writing on the papers when he heard your voice shouting his first name.

... it was his mind playing tricks on him. You didn't called him 'Kai' anymore.

He scoffed and went to return to writing before he dropped his pen and widened his eyes at hearing your screams again.

He got up and opened the door, stepping in on the hall way and looking at both sides.

"KAI!" You breath out, when you turned on a hallway and saw him looking at you with worried yet serious eyes.

You runned towars him withiut a care, jumped on him as he groaned at the impact with the floor, wincing at not knowing if that place was clean or not.

"Kai!" You breath out as you cupped his face on your hands as your tears fell, nuzzling on him "My life, my boyfriend, my devil! I remember! Everthing!" You cried, while Chisaki's eyes widened as his pupils trembled a bit.

He managed to at least sip up, arms now holding you with a iron grip as he still processed while you cried on his shoulder... his own relived tears falling at hearing that you called him your devil.

"(Y/N).." he breathed out in a smile underneath his mask, hugging you even closer as he buried his face on your shoulder with a shaking sigh "My angel... my precious angel you're back..!" He whisper shouted as he holded onto you tight.

He growled in disaproval when you separated before grunting when you grabbed him by the hem of his shirt after yanking his mask down to crash your lips with his... smirking when you felt him sigh on it as his hands went to your waist... straddling his lap.

"I'm so so sorry! How could I ever forget you?!" You whispered between kisses, crying a bit as he hushed you harshly while wiping your tears away with his gloved fingers, taking advantage of your mouth being open to after days taste that scent flavor of his angel he had craved for...

"You aren't the one to blame my love. Never." He said after taking a break for at least to have oxygen back to his chest, helping you up from the floor. "How I wonder? I was running out of hope already..."

"Your scent. Your cologne. When I took your jacket-"

"Ah yes. Little thief." He chuckled at your pout before you skirked devilish and snuggled even more on his coat and on him.

"It was.. like a flash. Kai..." you breathed in on his neck, tearing up at feeling him resting his chin on your head as his gloved fingers worked thorugh your hair.

"My life is so painful and so dark without you my angel... those days were like hell." He admited, subsconciously touching his bare lips on you as a kiss.

Chrono just had stepped in on the room before he quickly turned back when he saw his childhood friend cupping his lover face on his hands as he traced her face with his lips lovely... the skies even seemed to get brighter wben Overhaul's partner recuperated her memory...

[waiting4inspiration]

Useless to Me VIII (Ivar x Reader x Hvitserk)

Summary: Ivar learns the truth about Freydis and the child in her womb. You can’t allow Ivar’s wrath to affect the life of an innocent child. 

Warnings: angst, strong language, mentions on infidelity, mentions of murder, Freydis being a bitch, the truth comes out, if I missed something please let me know

Word Count: 2,277

Useless to Me Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

Through the cracks in the wooden wall of a makeshift house, Ivar catches the dishonest affairs you accused Freydis of. His wife shares a kiss with a man he does not know, a kiss one would think a woman would share with her husband. And the man touches her pregnant belly the way a father would touch that of his pregnant wife. And with a proud smile growing on Freydis’s face, Ivar sees that everything you had said is true. 

Everything Freydis had told him, from the fact that she carries his child to your twins being of his blood and not Hvitserk’s, is a lie. You never bore his child and Freydis will never bear his. Those things that Freydis said that just because he is a cripple doesn’t mean he can’t have children was just a way to get him wrapped around her finger. 

But he sees the truth now. 

All those times you bleed when you tried to have a child when you were his wife, that wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault. 

It was all his. He is the one that failed to produce an heir. He’s the ‘useless’ one - as he had called you. 

Realizing that makes the anger inside him boil hot. He’s supposed to be favored by the Gods and that means that they’re supposed to bless him with a son. You told him that the Gods will deal out their blessings when the time is right. But you also told him that they can take away their favor. Have they done that to him now? Where does their favor lie?

He finds it almost ironic that he sees Hvitserk waiting for him, sword in hand, in the Great Hall when he thinks of that question as he walks through the open doors. “You threatened to take my son and daughter away from me?”

“Not now, Hvitserk-”

“Yes, now, Ivar!” Hvitserk shouts back, storming towards his brothers who only rolls his eyes at him. “(Y/n), told me everything that happened, that you believe Freydis’s lies that my twins are of your blood,” he hisses, making Ivar stop in his tracks and slowly turn around to face Hvitserk. “You have hurt her more than enough, Ivar. She is my wife, and I promised that she shall not come by any harm by you, physically or by your words. And I will protect her,” he states, glaring coldly at Ivar.

He raises his eyebrow at Hvitserk and takes a step forward. “And what are you going to do, Hvitserk? What will you do to me? Huh?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a smirk on his face. “If it will make you feel better, brother. I want nothing to do with your children or your wife,” he sneers, narrowing his eyes at Hvitserk. “Take your wife and your children, and leave this Hall. They are free to leave.”

This confuses Hvitserk. One, because of the murderous look in his eyes but yet he’s allowing you and the children he thought were his to go free. And two, because he came here to fight Ivar, but he just turns his back and walks away. 

“When my wife gets back, take her to a cell and tell me when you have,” he snaps at a guard who only nods his head and stands stiff in his spot. 

Hvitserk frowns at Ivar as he walks away, knowing that it’s probably best not to ask him what he’s doing. But he can’t help the curiosity growing inside him. And though he hates the thought, he knows that Ivar would probably reveal more to you than to him. 

You’re pacing as you wait for Hvitserk to come back and tell you good news. You pray that Ivar sees reason and lets you, your son and your daughter go. You pray that Hvitserk comes back. Knowing what Ivar did to Sigurd, what’s to stop him from doing the same to Hvitserk?

The twins are asleep, thank the Gods. You’re certain your anxious walking back and forth will unsettle them. But, they cuddle close together, safe and sound for now because you don’t know what Ivar’s decided now after your husband’s spoken to him. 

The door opens, making you jump around to stare, wide-eyed at your husband walking into the room with a confused look on his face. “What is it? What did he say?” you whisper, not wanting to wake your sleeping babes as Hvitserk places his weapons at the door of the room.

He simply looks up at you, sighs, and then walks toward the bed where his children lie. With a shake of his head, you think the worst has happened. And you breathe out a shaky breath. “He’s letting them go. Letting you go,” he whispers. 

You freeze, stare at him in shock as he looks up at you. Frowning at him as he takes a step forward, you shake your head in confusion and tilt your head to the side. “I don’t know what happened, but he intends to arrest Freydis when she arrives.”

“What?” you mutter, slowly sitting down on the bed as Hvitserk turns his gaze back down to the twins. “Why?” you ask, your question making him answer you silently with a shake of his head. 

Looking down at the ground, you try to think about what could have caused this onset of action from Ivar. He is, after all, your ex-husband. You know him probably better than his brothers and only one thing comes to mind; he’s found out the truth about Freydis and the father of her child. 

You sigh in realization and drop your head between your shoulders. Trying not to think about what will happen to Freydis’s unborn child, you shake your head and push yourself to your feet. “I need to talk to him.”

Hvitserk grabs your wrist to stop you from walking away, making your head turn down to him. You wait for him to tell you otherwise and you’re not sure if you would listen to him or if you would fight him. He’s quiet for a moment, staring at you with a scared look in his eyes. But he sighs and slowly lets go of your wrist. “Just be careful,” he whispers, dropping his gaze to your hand as he weaves his fingers through yours. 

Cupping his cheek, you lean down and press your lips to his. Kissing him deeply because you don’t know what Ivar’s wrath will be like and what he might do to you. You can only hope that this won’t be the last time you see your husband and your children. 

Ivar walks to the cells with heavy steps and a heavy mind and heart. He was told that Freydis has been arrested and now, it’s time to confront her and get the truth. No more will he take her lies nor her manipulation. 

The guard at the door to the cell pushes it open, allowing Ivar to step in. Freydis lifts her head up from staring at her belly and she turns to face him. “What do you think you’re doing, Ivar? What makes you think you can arrest me-”

“What makes you think you can go behind my back without me finding out what you’ve really been up to, Freydis?” he snaps back, making her take a step back and the look on her face to drop. “I am not stupid. I know that the child growing in your belly is a bastard child. It is not mine. It is the child of some man in the markets,” he states, thinking that she will give in and admit to it. 

She raises an eyebrow at him and wraps her arms over her chest. “What makes you think that?”

“I saw you with him!”

His outburst makes her break, her heart to leap into her throat and her hands to fall to her belly. Her head drops between her shoulders and she takes a step back in submission. “You lied to me. You deceived me,” he sneers, walking closer to her to reach out and grab her face to make her look at him. “Tell me why.”

She stares at him, swallows deeply, and tries to pull her face out of his hold. But Ivar only tightens his hold. “You are special-” He moves his hand to her throat, glares at her coldly as he narrows his eyes and squeezes down on her neck. 

“The truth,” he warns, pulling her closer to his face as he sneers at her. 

She takes a deep breath when he loosens his grip a bit so she can speak. “I wasn’t going to end up with the same fate as (Y/n),” she whispers, and that’s all he needs to hear. 

Pushing her away from him, she stumbles a bit and coughs slightly as to gently touch her throat. “I should kill you.”

“I won’t let you do that, Ivar.” Your voice makes him turn his head over his shoulder to find you standing at the door of the cell, behind the arm of the guard that stops you from walking in. 

You had someone tell him where Ivar is and you quickly made your way here to stop him from doing something stupid. And you’re glad that you didn’t wait for him like you had thought you should. 

He chuckles, rolls his eyes, and turns to face you. “You don’t have a say in this, (Y/n). You are nothing but the wife of my brother. You are nothing.”

“But I will be the voice of that innocent child,” you fight back, pointing to Freydis as you keep your gaze on him. “I will not let you kill an innocent child because of what your wife has done,” you add as you take a step forward, not sure where this confidence is coming from. 

You and Ivar stare at each other for a while. He stares to try and get you to back down, but you won’t. You won’t let him murder an unborn child. Killing Freydis… Well, she is the reason your marriage fell. It’s probably not good to wish it, but you don’t care what Ivar does with her. 

He sighs when he realizes you won’t back down and glances over to look at Freydis. His eyes drop to her pregnant belly for a second before looking at her face again. Rolling his eyes, he turns and walks towards you. 

Stepping aside to let him walk out the cell, you wait for him to look at you. But he doesn’t. He carries on walking, mutters something to himself, and doesn’t look back. You turn to look at Freydis as you breathe out a small sigh. 

She gives you a small smile, but it quickly drops when she sees the cold look on your face. “You were the one that told him,” she concludes and rests her hand on the curve of her belly. “Why would you do that?”

You glare at her, bite your tongue, and remind yourself that you can’t be rude. But you can’t help yourself. “Because deep down, I want you to know what it feels like to lose everything,” you say, making her narrow her eyes at you as you take a step backward. “But because, no matter what he has done to hurt me, he needs to know the truth,” you add, folding your hands in front of you before you turn to walk away. 

Hearing the door close as you walk away, you drop your head between your shoulders and gently shake your head. 

Before you can turn the corner, Ivar’s hand wraps around your arm and he pulls you towards him. “Why are you trying to protect her?” he questions, his face coming close to yours makes your heart skip a beat. “I thought you hated her. You did call her a whore.”

“I don’t care what you do to her, Ivar. After her child is born, you can make her a slave again for all I care. You can kill her. Whatever,” you whisper. Pulling your arm out of his hold, you carry on staring at him. “But if you do anything to that child, you will answer to me.”

He must say, you seem to have a different kind of attitude now that you are a mother. It’s somewhat attractive and he misses how you used to speak up to him, putting him in his place. Something Freydis never really did. She manipulated him with a soft voice. But you were never afraid to speak up around him. 

And though he knows that you have no power over him if he does do something to the child in his wife’s belly, he also knows that he won’t do anything to the baby, just because you had told him not to. 

“Fine. I will leave the child be,” he states, making a wave of relief to wash over you. “As for you-”

“You do not have to worry about me anymore,” you mention, taking a step back but keeping your eyes on him. “We’ll be out of your hair today.”

As you walk away, Ivar knows he’ll see you again, but he knows that it won’t be the same as this. You won’t be the same and he won’t be the same. Nothing will be the same again. 

He will be alone with no wife and no heir. 

You will be with your husband, his brother, and your son and daughter. Your husband and your heirs. 

You will have everything and he will have nothing.

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[lastxviolet]

In Neglected Fields, the Fern Grows -Ch. 2

Fred Weasley x OC

4,447 k

Ch. 2 / 10

Warnings: NSFW!! Slight Dom!Fred, touching, grinding, cursing, begging, dirty talk, slight degradation

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13829826/1/In-Neglected-Fields-the-Fern-Grows

____________________________________

Fern woke the next morning to her roommate's frantic reminders about class. She groaned, peeling herself from the warm navy sheets, and joined Daisy, getting ready for the full day of arbitrary, seemingly endless classes.

It wasn't that she was bad at school as far as grades and accomplishments went, but rather, she felt like she'd never really caught her stride. Even now, in her last year of school, there was no rhythm. She was always running around like a chicken with its head cut off, finishing papers, apologizing to professors, and begging her peers for answers. Her brand of schoolwork had paid off, seeing as she'd got a majority of Outstanding grades on her O.W.L's and felt relatively prepared for the N.E.W.T exam in a few months. But now that she was nearing the end of her time in school, she wondered if it would've been less of an effort and time commitment to just do the work as assigned in a timely fashion.

It was noon before she had time to catch her breath and think of something other than school. Lunch was a welcome sight as she walked into the Great Hall but before she could enjoy the moment, she caught sight of her younger brother sitting alone, and her frustration and curiosity from last night were reignited.

"Nev," she announced, sitting down across from him.

"Fern," he muttered in a tempered tone.

She exhaled and rolled her eyes at his mood.

"I'm not cross at you," she noted, eyeing him the best she could from over the book he was buried in.

"That's good. You've no reason to be."

She stared down at the food between them. Every year the quiet, timid kid she'd had to bribe to try and make friends at school became more and more outgoing, outspoken, bold….more of a Gryffindor.

"You're not going to tell me about last night, are you?"

"I…I already have and it's your fault if you don't believe me."

"Bloody hell," she hissed under her breath. "Fine, I believe you, are you happy now?"

He brought his book down an inch and finally made eye contact. She knew he wasn't perceptive enough to realize she was lying, and still incredibly suspicious of him and his whereabouts but decided that it would be better to actually have some evidence before she started accusing him of anything.

"You do?"

"Yes, yes," she reassured him. "I'm sorry, I was just tired and annoyed that I had to do rounds."

"Oh," he mused, dropping his book fully. "Are you sleeping alright? I could give you some Valerian root to chew on before bed it's…usually…Fern?"

His voice tapered off but she wasn't even listening. Neville's right hand, splayed out on the cover of his book, was cracked with a deep vernacular wound, still pink from a recent infliction. She stared in horror at his bloodied hand and reached across the table to seize his wrist.

"Neville," she hissed, harshly.

He tried to pull away but she was faster and stronger.

"When did this happen?"

"It's…it's nothing. Only one detention," he stuttered, eyeing the rest of the table in embarrassment. "Just got unlucky s'all."

Her angrily pounding heartbeat drowned out the rest of the noise from the lunch rush. He was lying to her, again. Her mind raced with all the things that he could be doing out and about with the twins but seriously doubted that any of them would improve his chances at staying unharmed at the hands of Umbridge.

"I'll give you one chance to tell me who you were with."

Neville opened and closed his mouth as if he was trying to think of a lie or an argument before finally pressing his lips into a reserved line.

"Fern, please, they're my friends," he pleaded. "I know you don't like them but—"

"Friends don't get friends into this kind of trouble, Nev!"

"They don't get me into anything…I'm as much a part of the trouble as they are," he insisted, shaking off her grip and standing up to leave.

"You can't expect me to just let you get hurt like this if Gran knew —"

"Don't…don't use that against me…like you always do," he whispered with a harsh glare. "I know what I'm doing."

She craned her neck to stare at him in disbelief, acutely aware of how tall he'd gotten.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," she pleaded, taking extra care to sound less accusatory, in the hopes that he would see her as less of a threat. "I'm only trying to help."

"No, you're not," he countered as harshly as he could, even though it was still relatively tame. "You hate that I am doing something without getting your permission first. I don't need help, Fern. Just leave it alone…please."

She squinted her eyes but remained silent, letting the not so timid boy trudge off without her ripping him to shreds.

In all her years of knowing him, he'd never dismissed her like this. He was a sweet, shy boy who put his family above everything else. There was no way that he would hold some prank or hi-jinx to such high regard…without some kind of influence. She glanced down at the Gryffindor table and caught sight of Harry Potter leaning down to whisper something to one of the twins, who in turn, leaned across the table to repeat it to Pavarti Patil and Lavender Brown. She rolled her eyes at their obviousness. If Padma was involved, of course, her sister would be too. And if Harry was involved, then it was certainly no good at all.

The weather for the rest of the afternoon and evening mimicked her mood. The rain of late fall was neither refreshing nor relaxing. It smelled of winter, and brought with it, frozen winds and only a taste of what was to come in the winter months.

Fern pressed her forehead to one of the tall windows in the Ravenclaw common room and contemplated how much the near-freezing droplets would hurt her bare skin. It was coming down pretty hard so there was a good chance it'd leave her burning, but no doubt, she'd catch a nasty cold. She glanced away from the moonlit grounds down below and failed at taking interest in the abandoned book in her lap. Despite trying, she hadn't been able to tear her thoughts from the interaction with Neville from earlier in the day. He'd never really been a serious boy, even when they were little, but today, he'd been uncharacteristically stern. It'd been enough to make her at least consider that the right thing to do would be to accept his wishes and leave him alone but the image of his bloodied hand was making her sick to her stomach. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was in over his head. He had a habit of being blind to the obviousness of his circumstance and acting without plan or consideration of pros and cons. Some called it bravery, and his house prided themselves on being collectively blind, but she knew what it was - stupidity. She'd never understood the appreciation that others had for the first person willing to risk their neck despite the risk.

She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the glass again. It was sharp, cold, and just enough to bring her sense to life for a few seconds. The minimal chatter around her in the darkened common room disappeared beneath the roaring storm outside. She wanted to go and stake out the seventh-floor hallway. Admittedly, it was overbearing, and would probably instigate more problems between her and Neville than answers but she couldn't fight off the feeling. Before she could find her common sense, her feet were moving towards the tower exit.

The castle thundered underneath the storm and drowned out her footsteps on the moving staircase. She held her breath as she entered the seventh floor and walked swiftly against the stone wall to stay hidden. For a touch more secrecy, and perhaps a flair for the dramatics, she extinguished the fireplace, and torches with a flick of her hand and waited in the shadows.

It was nearly half an hour later when she sunk to the floor and sat on the cold, dark floor and an hour after that when she nearly gave up.

There was no sign of anyone, until, she heard the faintest sound of a door closing somewhere behind the stone pillar to her right. She held her breath and listened to the lumbering steps as they came around the corner, again, from the direction of the astronomy towner. She smirked as the thunder reminded her that Astronomy was an impossible excuse tonight.

What happened next was the convergence of three terrible things at once.

She revealed herself from the shadows and came face to face with Fred Weasley, who looked surprised by her presence for a mere second before looking decidedly more put out by something over her head.

She turned to see what was more important than her obvious gotcha moment but her excitement turned to despair as a pink figure stood at the top of the steps. Umbridge waved her hand, igniting the hallway to reveal her standing a little too close to the troublesome twin. She knew how it looked before Umbridge even opened her mouth.

"Boys and girls are to be more than eight inches apart," she giggled. "Ms. Longbottom…Mr. Weasley, I am sure that you're aware of this rule."

She frantically glanced at Fred in hopes that he would tell the truth but he took a step closer and snaked his arm around her waist.

"Eight inches, professor," he cooed, pulling her tight. "How'd you know?"

Fern's eyes went wide at his obvious attempt to anger the already unhinged woman.

"No, professor," she hissed, pushing him off of her. "It isn't like that —"

The woman clicked her tongue and held up a hand to silence her.

"Detention for the both of you," she warned, oozing with pep.

She turned her head frantically to Fred again who was looking quite content with a wicked smile on his face.

"Professor, please," she pleaded, trying to make it sound like less of a beg.

"Enough," the woman shrieked. "Detention tomorrow evening. Now, off you go."

Without another word, the woman disappeared back down the stairs. She stared at the doorway in shock before wheeling around to confront Fred.

"Godric that woman…Ah well, what's another one, right, Longbottom?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Another one? I've never had a detention before, you prick. Let alone, one of Umbridge's."

"Oh, well it's not so bad," he assured her, bringing a hand out of his pocket. "There's a bit of scarring but it doesn't hurt for too long."

She looked down at his hand and let the air be sucked out of her lungs. It was the same writing as Nevilles.

"I'm not upset about the pain you imbecile, I'm upset because I have to go in the first place and it's your fault!"

He leaned against the pillar next to them and stared down at her with a curious look on his face.

"My fault?"

"Yes, your fault," she hissed. "Like always." Of course, he would deny it, she thought.

Her accusatory words seemed to have the smallest effect on him as he rolled his eyes and scoffed at her.

"How?"

"Who else's fault could it possibly be, Weasley?"

"Oh, marvelous question, here's a thought, and it is just a first draft theory so do be gentle, but yourself? You were out frolicking, just like me, and therefore, bound to get caught with or without me," he explained through gritted teeth.

She shook her head and gave him a look of disbelief. They might have gotten off if he hadn't felt the urge to be such a smart ass, how could he not see that?

"I was not frolicking," she huffed. "The only reason I'm even up here is that I have to make sure that you, don't corrupt my brother. Thusly, your fault."

"I'm corrupting your brother," he repeated in disbelief.

"Yes."

"This might shock you but he is perfectly capable of getting into trouble all on his own."

"Only because he's been hanging around the likes of you for far too long!"

He squinted his eyes at her and leaned forward. She wouldn't let him use his size to intimidate her so she stayed put and furrowed her brow back.

"The likes of me? What is wrong with you?"

"You think there's something wrong with me?"

Fred scoffed and tipped his head back, closing his eyes in the process. "I think there are a whole lot of things wrong with you, love."

"Don't fucking call me that. I'm not one of your dumb fucking groupies, waiting patiently to be reduced to a pet name for your pleasure," she hissed, plunging a finger into his muscular chest. "Refer to me by my fucking name or don't refer to me at all, asshole."

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, returning the look of anger to his face. "Alright, I'm terribly sorry. Let me rephrase that. I think there are too many things wrong with you to count, let alone fix, Fern."

"That's big talk for a self-absorbed sociopath with pyromaniac tendencies and a severe maturity deficit!"

He looked caught off guard and brought his face down close to hers again. She stared back defiantly and let him search her eyes.

"Wow," he breathed after a moment of silence.

"Wow, what? Too many big words for you? Was poor little Freddie too focused on his tricks to pick up any comprehension skills at school? Do you need me to dumb it down?"

"If you insist, since dumb seems to come so easy for you," he retorted.

She let out a groan of frustration and dug her finger in deeper.

"You are maddening! At least I've got two brain cells to rub together. Your head is probably filled with fuck-all!"

Her voice bounced around the hallway as she stared at a wide-eyed Fred. She thought for a moment that'd she'd made a dent in his ego but his lips pulled up into an amused smirk. Her temper was usually a little more dependable than this but it was too late to go back now.

"My head," he repeated with a smile. "Hm…I'm more curious about your head."

"You're a bastard," she hissed, ignoring the heat radiating off of her face. He always reverted to perversion to throw her off guard, and unfortunately, it always worked.

"Normally you'd be right but this time, I dare say that you started it."

She glared at him and shook her head. He wasn't meant to be enjoying this. She'd hurled her best at him and it hadn't even hurt him in the slightest. Her brain told her to walk away but she stayed planted in place.

"Well, now I'm ending it. Yelling at you isn't worth the strain on my throat," she exclaimed.

His eyes flickered with even more amusement as the words left her tongue. She could've screamed with frustration when she realized what she'd said.

"Fern, darling," he cooed, leaning down further into her bubble. "I'd be more than happy to provide some strain on your throat. Just say the word."

"Fuck you."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he sighed, shaking his head. "A high-strung, good girl like you shouldn't have such a colorful vocabulary."

"My choice of words is no concern of yours," she blurted, internally cringing as she sounded like a child having a tantrum. It was difficult to admit to herself, but it seemed as though he had the upper hand.

"Well I didn't hear a single curse in that," he cooed, smirking devilishly. "Go on, don't be shy now, please continue your onslaught of obscenities. I'm a big boy, so I can take it, not like the posh blokes of Ravenclaw."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You don't get to talk down on anyone and you don't get to tell me what to do."

"I'm not, Fern, if you were as perceptive as you pretend to be, you'd have realized that I'm asking nicely. Can you do that for me, love?"

"Don't fucking call me that," she hissed, pressing her whole hand against his chest to keep him at a distance.

"There it is. Anything else, darling?"

"You're a prick."

He threw his head back in a laugh. "You sure I'm not a fucking prick?"

His tone made her blood boil. How had getting detention come to this? How had she let him weasel his way underneath her skin? She momentarily thought of the wand in her pocket but knew that he'd be falser than that.

"So now you're making fun of me?"

"No, I've just always found you very curious," he said, leaning into her hand. "Tell me something, Fern. Are curse words the only improper thing you do? Is everything else pressed skirts and studies? Do nasty words fill the void that a life without excitement has left you with?"

She looked at him like he'd slapped her straight across the face. This conversation was going to get her no closer to figuring out the Neville mystery, but now it didn't matter. She was going to finish her feud with the intolerable twin, showing him once and for all, she was not a woman to be reckoned with.

"For fucks sake, how do you stand yourself? The melodramatic attitude must be exhausting. A life without excitement? That's really what you want to go with?"

"I call it as I see it," he barked confidently with a smile.

She couldn't believe that he was actually lecturing her about the philosophy of life when he had next to nothing figured out.

"So, what, to lead a life worth living I'm supposed to torture my peers without a care in the world? I'd hardly call being a nuisance to everyone I come in contact with, exciting."

A flicker of anger crossed his face. She tried not to make it intimidate her but he caught her wrist and yanked her hand away, pinning it to her shoulder.

"At least it's something," he growled.

"Yeah, a thorn in everyone's side!"

His damn of self-control broke and he shook her arm violently.

"Then you're a fucking raincloud! Godric, how do you not see that you suck the life out of every room you're in? At least I break even with smiles but you? You're basically a Umbridge in training with your prim and proper attitude and delusions of order! It's fucking boring! YOU are fucking boring and I — "

Without another thought, she closed her eyes, brought her other hand back, balled in into a fist, and swung.

She felt her knuckles make contact with his ridiculously shaped nose and opened her eyes in time to see his eyes ablaze with anger.

"Fucking, shit," he bellowed. "Ow!"

"How's that for boring?" She yelled at his scrunched face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

The words tipped her over the edge and she slung her fist at him again, this time catching his arm. It barely seemed enough to catch his attention so she let it all out. Every frustration, fear, anger; came out in punches, kicks, and slaps, all aimed at the very tall redhead who had his back up against the pillar.

"You're fucking mental," he roared, seizing both of her wrists and turning them around so that she had her back to the stone.

"Fuck you," she yelled.

"Stop kicking me you wretch of a woman, bloody hell!"

"You can't hurt my feelings, dumb fuck," she bellowed back, as he yanked her wrists above her head so that she couldn't break free and used his weight to stop her from moving. "There's nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself a million times."

The words registered in her mind the same moment they escaped her mouth. It was the truth, but she'd never said it out loud or even acknowledged it herself. She did in fact sling evil sentiments at the abyss in her self but for some odd reason, they'd never made a dent. Fred's words, however, didn't hurt in the slightest. On the contrary really; they ignited her.

He snarled at her words and held her still. Her heart beat so fast she thought she might pass out. She met his eyes finally and watched him digest what she'd said. He looked surprised. She couldn't blame him of course, she hadn't ever meant to say it out loud, let alone to someone she hated. She expected him to drop her, and leave because of the suddenly serious, uncomfortable topic of conversation but his face did something she didn't expect. He moved closer with a look of curiosity.

"Go on, try," she whispered, daring him despite her nerves. "I know you want to. I give you detentions, I confiscate your products, I target the rest of your family too because you're all fucking annoying —"

"Fuck you," he hissed.

"Fuck you too."

He glanced down at her lips as she spoke and held her tighter.

"You're a fucking bitch," he whispered, eyeing her with wary.

She threw her head back into a sharp cackle. "Is that all you've got?"

He snarled at her flippant attitude and brought one hand down to hold her throat while the other kept her hands above her head, scraping her knuckles against the stone in glorious agony.

"Shut the fuck up you insufferable, uptight swot," he purred angrily.

Her eyes went wide and she saw a flash of regret cross his face.

"Bloody hell…I…" he stammered, easing up on her restraints.

"What else," she croaked from beneath his grip. The words, his seething presence, and the painful embrace pumped adrenaline into her veins and an inexplicable hunger into her throat. The thought of him fighting off hatred to be close to her set her chest ablaze.

His eyes snapped back to hers. She was daring him, goading him, perhaps even begging him to continue. It was dramatic but she thought that she might die if he stopped now.

"I've always thought that you were an evil bitch, you know that?"

"I know," she whispered. His chest rose and fell rapidly making his breath heating her face with every puff.

"But now," he murmured low and slow, increasing the pressure against her throat. "I think you're desperate."

Her eyes went wide and he inched closer.

"A needy, desperate, good girl…with a dirty fucking mouth."

"Yes," she moaned.

His eyes went wide again, clearly surprised by her sensual reaction but he didn't move away.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. "You like this, don't you?"

He didn't give her a chance to answer and pressed himself up against her with a force that made her spread her legs to make room for his extended knee. It brushed against her gloriously, fanning the flames that were already ablaze. She could see the same soft unexpected look in him that she felt herself. He hadn't known that he would like it either. Just as she wondered if he was feeling an ounce of what she was, she felt growth in his pants.

"You like it….so you're a fucking whore, too. Aren't you?"

She whimpered and slid down the wall a little until she could press harder against the rough material of his pants.

"Aren't you," he whispered again, bringing his thumb up from her neck, and teasing her bottom lip. "A fucking whore."

She opened her mouth in response and let him slide his finger up her tongue and back out, smearing her lips with spit.

"Yes, yes…fuck," she whispered.

"Shut the fuck up," he grunted, gripping her chin so that she had to tilt her head further back to look up at him. "I don't want to hear that word from your mouth ever again."

She swallowed hard. He looked down at her with a serious look but his eyes were on fire. She glanced down at his neck, practically panting from the sight of his veins bulging from anger.

"Good girls don't curse. Do they," he asked forcefully. "Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you."

She snapped her eyes back up to his and slowly shook her head.

"No," she sighed.

"Stop. Talking," he hissed. "Let me rephrase that since you're such a fucking now it all.

My good girl doesn't curse. Does she…Fern?"

All she could do was whimper and shake her head as he slowly released her chin. It was incredible. The words seemed to pour out of him as if he'd been planning them and scratched each itch that she'd ever had.

"Good answer," he moaned, reaching over to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "She's mine. So I get to tell her what to do with her pretty little mouth…pretty little throat…and pretty little cunt."

Ferns eyes blew wide open at the last bit of the sentence and she realized that she'd been grinding against him with helpless desperation. The realization felt like a shot to the head and the fantasy was broken.

The hallway appeared behind him; they were still very much in public. Fred came into view as himself again, and not a domineering figure to fuck all of her troubles away. She bristled, acutely aware of his forceful grip. She pulled away from his grip with all her might, causing him to stumble backward. His eyebrows shot up at the movement and he released her not a second later, backing away equally as shocked that they were still in the school.

She leaned against the stone trying to catch her breath, and find her footing again as they stared at each other. Fred Weasley had called her many things in the past, and she guessed that maybe they'd always stoked the fire in her chest but this was…something else. She could tell that if she didn't leave now, it'd become an incurable hunger, which she could not afford, especially with him.

"Fuck…Fern….I'm sorry I —"

"Stop," she whispered, talking a step around him, towards the moving staircase. "Just…stop."

"Fern," he said, matching her stride, trying to catch up. "I'm sorry —I didn't mean —I thought that —"

"Just stop," she bellowed, halting him with her voice. "I…I have to go."

He looked at her, stunned, and disheveled but didn't move another inch as she made it to the door and took one last look at him before sprinting down the stairs.

[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 8

A/N: Hello again! This chapter is a little shorter than the last couple of chapters but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Thank you for the feedback on the last chapter, it means a lot. Also, I’m making a seperate tag list for people who would like to be tagged in all of my supernatural stuff (one shots, dabbles, other series etc.), so let me know if you want to get on that. Also, Also - if any of you have any requests for one-shots or the like, I’d love to do that. Thanks to everyone who’s read and re-blogged it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise. 

Word Count: 1.8k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

To Dean it felt like it took forever.

He watched Cas’s hand glow as if he were healing her, not even daring to breathe. Sam stood beside his brother in support. Cas had his eyes closed in concentration. Dean was looking worriedly at Y/N but she didn’t look like she was in any pain. He trusted Cas with his life and knew he would never knowingly hurt Y/N, but worrying came naturally to him and he had to make sure she was safe. There was an instinct there that he was usually used to associating with just his brother.  

Cas had only wanted to see her soul but as soon as he put his hand on her, he was bombarded with her memories. Her thoughts, her pain, her experiences – they were so loud. He had never felt so crippled by a human mind before. He was surprised by the intense anger he felt on her behalf. The girl didn’t seem to harbour much anger herself – there simply wasn’t any place for it beneath the fear, uncertainty, loneliness and hurt. He saw her memories like he had once seen Dean’s when he pulled him out from hell. Once he was sucked in, he couldn’t get out until she let him even though he felt like he was somehow violating her privacy. But, if he ever had any doubt that there was a part of Dean Winchester in this girl, the burning determination underneath everything else would have been enough to remove it. Even without seeing her soul, shining as brightly as her father’s.

Y/N was expecting pain even after Cas assured her that there wouldn’t be any. What she was not expecting was the warmth. It felt like she was bundled in the softest blanket and nothing could hurt her as long as she stayed in the cocoon of that warmth. It was bright light and hope and love and like nothing she had ever felt before. She almost didn’t want to let it go but she could feel the sensation trying to pull away from her. She chased it until she couldn’t. She didn’t know how long had passed before she came back to Earth, so to speak.

Cas’s hand slid from her forehead down to her cheek momentarily.

“I’m sorry for the hard life you’ve had Y/N. You are truly an incredible human being and I vow to protect you to the best of my ability from here on. I shall not let any harm befall you.”

The intensity of his words surprised her but she didn’t say anything. Dean, on the other hand, balked at the words.

“Wait, what just happened?” he asked, looking from Cas to Y/N and back again.

“What’s with the vow of protection? Is this some kind of Twilight imprinting bullshit?!” Dean’s voice grew more hysterical with every word, making Y/N muffle a snort.

“Dude, why the hell do you even know what that is?” Sam asked incredulously. Dean ignored him in favour of glaring at his friend.

Cas turned away from Y/N to give Dean his best imitation of Sam’s bitchface.

“No, Dean. I didn’t imprint on your daughter. I can assure you I have no intention of mating with her,” Cas sarcastically dead-panned, which would have normally impressed and even amused Dean but his brain had stopped working at that moment.

Daughter. Daughter.

Fuck.

There was a ringing in his ears. He could hear Sam calling his name, could feel the weight of his hand shaking his shoulder, but everything was muffled – the only thing he could focus on was the fact that he had a fucking daughter.

Of course, he had known it was a possibility – that was the whole damn point of the angelic test, but now… it was real. He was a father. Just like that. In that moment – he fucking hated Sandra.

Sam would have loved to say that Dean reacted maturely and focused on Y/N and didn’t freak out at all, but father or not, he was still Dean Winchester. So, Sam wasn’t all that surprised when instead of making sure his daughter was alright, Dean stormed out in the direction of the shooting range, or so Sam assumed. He knew his brother and he knew that it was how he processed things. Working on his car or shooting stuff was Dean’s way of dealing with the news and Sam was just grateful that he didn’t choose to turn to the bottle instead.

He watched Dean walk off but instead of trying to reason with his brother, he turned towards the other person affected by the news. His niece (Holy shit, he had a niece) was frozen in place, her eyes not really focused on anything. Cas looked at him worriedly and Sam realised that Cas hadn’t meant to drop the news in such a way. He smiled at him reassuringly, and walked to where Y/N was still standing.

Instead of calling out to her, he gently guided her to the library and made her sit down on a chair. She didn’t react at her which didn’t necessarily surprise Sam but worried him nonetheless. Cas brought a glass of water from the kitchen and Sam quickly thanked him before setting it down on the table and kneeling in front of Y/N.

“Kiddo? Hey Y/N, are you alright?” he instinctively asked and winced. Of course, she wasn’t alright. Her entire world had just turned on its head.

“Y/N, you with me?” he tried instead.

She looked at him without really seeing him. He had to repeat the question a couple of times before he even saw a hint of acknowledgement in her eyes. He waited patiently until she finally shakily nodded her head.

Her throat was dry. She reached for the glass of water blindly. Sam quickly picked it up and placed it in her waiting hands, watching as she took small sips.

“Where’s…” she trailed off, sipping at the water again just to have something to do.

“Probably in the shooting range. He’s… processing. But I guess so are you,” he said uncertainly.

“You have a shooting range?” She was clearly avoiding the big elephant in the room, but Sam didn’t take the bait.

“I’ll show you later,” he dismissed the topic change expertly. “How are you holding up?”

“You mean after learning that my mother lied to me my entire life?” she spat out. Sam winced at the tone but ignored the hostility, only squeezing her shoulder in response. She deflated at the lack of a fight. He simply waited.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I wasn’t expecting… I know you were all but convinced but I wasn’t. San- my mother always gave me the impression that my father was dead. Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even have distant relatives that I could call family. Now suddenly, I… I don’t know how to deal with that,” she said, frustration heavily lacing her voice.

Sam noticed the hesitation at her mother’s name and stored that little piece of information for later. His heart went out to her, it truly did.

“Look, I can’t even begin to imagine being in your position right now. Or Dean’s, for that matter. Hell, I’m still reeling from the fact that I have a niece, and I’m not even the one directly affected by this! So, I cant tell you how to feel or what to do. That’s up to you. What I can tell you is that you’re family now, Y/N. That word has way more weightage in this household than it probably does anywhere else. So, whatever you’re going through, you won’t be alone. I’m here, Cas is here and when he eventually gets over his little temper tantrum, Dean will be here too,” Sam smiled wryly.

Y/N chuckled a little even as emotion clogged her throat, shaking her head at Sam’s attempt at levity. She was suddenly pulled into the tightest hug by Sam, but this time she refused to cry. She’d had way too many breakdowns in the past few days and she’d ignore the stinging in her eyes and the burn in her throat if it was the last thing she did.

Instead, she sniffled into Sam’s plaid shirt, realising this was the second time in as many days that she was in this position. She chuckled at that, and instead of pulling away burrowed herself deeper into the comfort of the embrace.

Sam squeezed her tighter and kissed the top of her head. This was his niece. He was a fucking uncle! What did uncles even do? She was probably too old for toys. He also didn’t see much pranks in their future, at least for a little while. He could teach her he supposed. She clearly needed education and didn’t seem particularly thrilled about any form of formal institution. Yes, he would be the brainy uncle, who answered all the questions. He could do that.

Eventually, she pulled away. Seeing the hopeful expression on Sam’s face, she managed a weak smile at him, trying to tell him that she would be alright.

“I think I’m going to get some sleep and… process all of this. Let me know if De-Dean comes back soon,” she stumbled a little, not entirely sure what to call Dean anymore. Was ‘Dean’ inappropriate? It was way too soon for anything remotely in the ‘Dad’ ballpark. She put it away as a problem for later, not wanting to deal with the headache that accompanied thinking about her new family.

“Yea- yeah! No issues, kid. Get some rest. Dean will probably be a couple of hours. Cas already went to him earlier. He’s good at making Dean sort through things. I’ll probably head over there myself in a few,” he said assuredly.

“What’s up with that anyway?” she asked, her earlier curiosity making it harder for her to keep her mouth shut.

“What’s up with what?” Sam sounded confused.

“Cas and Dean?”

Understanding dawned on Sam’s face, immediately replaced with a look of long-suffering exasperation. Y/N giggled at that, making Sam smile subconsciously at the sound.

“If you ever figure it out, let me know,” he sighed and with a last kiss to her head, walked away.

Y/N shook her head and walked up to her room. She once again took stock of all the things that supposedly belonged to her. The mattress was the softest she’d ever slept on. She had her own freaking room. She had food to eat and clothes to wear and a couple of guys who cared more for her than what she thought she was worth.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad.

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If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

[obscure-sentimentalist]

flommy, “I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

[So this one’s been nagging at me for probably about a year now? It had been sitting half-started for ages, as I never really knew how to carry out the idea I had, but I did my best in coming back to it now. Bit lighter on the Flommy interactions this time, but in exchange we get Tommy and Thea siblingness and some Tommy thoughts.]

From the Comforting Cuddles starters list

“What do you think about ‘I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you’?”

“Do you need me to take you to the ER?” Thea deadpans from her perch on the cushioned window seat in Tommy’s room of the hotel suite without looking up from her phone. “Because it sounds like you got one of those Hallmark cards from the airport gift shop lodged in your throat.”

Tommy slowly lowers his own phone and rolls his head towards his sister, expression settling into one of loving annoyance. “What I’m getting out of that is that I have a future in the greeting card industry.”

“The future you should be more concerned about is the one where I spin-kick you in the head before the emotional trauma of hearing my brother workshopping romantic texts to his girlfriend sets in.”

“Hey, I’m keeping it perfectly PG,” Tommy defends, pointing at Thea with his free hand for emphasis.

That finally gets her to set her phone aside and swivel in her seat to face Tommy, giving him a striking, raised-eyebrow look. “I think the subject matter automatically makes it PG-13.”

“It’s a hotel bed!” Any exasperation behind the words trips right out of the gate, stumbling into nervous laughter.

Thea just continues to stare, swinging her legs back-and-forth unevenly as her feet dangle above the floor.

“That’s… achieved the perfect ratio of softness to firmness for an excellent night’s sleep?” Tommy can feel his ears reddening as they disappear into his shoulders. “Also, those pillows. Heavenly. Remind me to check with management to find out who the supplier is, I’m going to place a personal bulk order once we get back to Starling.”

“Right,” Thea says slowly, legs finally stilling. “So the high-quality comfiness is the thing worth writing home about. No other reason why you’d express missing having a plus-one to enjoy it.”

Had his mouth not dropped open with a scandalized pop instead, Tommy might have swallowed his tongue. “Thea Dearden Queen, you’re going to stop right there before I also ask about the hotel’s highest-strength cleaning supplies and if they can be applied directly to my brain.”

“You asked for critique,” Thea reminds him, but backs off by raising her hands sarcastically in surrender. “Just pointing out insinuations you may or may not have intended. You’re welcome.”

Chagrined by both the acknowledgement that he’d asked for help and his sister’s frankness in delivering said feedback, Tommy turns his attention back to the blinking cursor in the half-filled message box. The wittiness of the greeting has dulled significantly since the lightbulb first flicked on, even without the suggestive commentary. It’s a grim admission that spurs Tommy’s thumb to find the delete key and hold, consuming the carefully-crafted words before his eyes until he’s greeted once again by blank space.

The fact that Thea’s sigh is louder than his own is what pries Tommy away from his seemingly insurmountable task with his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“You really haven’t done this sort of thing before, have you?” Thea asks, waving a hand vaguely at the room as she sinks back against the window. “The out-of-town business trip.”

Admitting defeat (at least for the moment), Tommy tosses the phone onto the bed and crosses his arms, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I mean, if my business was pleasure...”

“So no, then,” Thea cuts in with a fond eye-roll. Her face goes soft a moment later, though, and she glances back at Tommy with a strange sort of knowingness. “Which means you especially haven’t done it when you’ve been in an actual relationship.”

Tommy offers up an entirely sheepish look. “I think that’s a given.”

Thea makes a little shrug-like expression with her lips, conceding that point. She pulls one foot up to rest on the cushion and hugs her knee to her chest, before giving Tommy another gently pointed stare. “It’s okay, you know.”

“Hmm?” Tommy rocks back on his heels as he lets the questioning hum slip, and rolls his lips under for a façade of innocence. These last few exchanges have been drawing them dangerously close to vulnerable topics—it’s still Tommy’s carefully-wired reflex to either clown about it or just play dumb.

Too bad Thea knows those moves when she sees them, and her narrowed eyes suggest that she’s still considering the earlier threat of a spin-kick in the head.

“It’s okay to miss her,” she says, stripping Tommy’s anxieties bare with a single statement.

For a split second, he thinks he might have preferred stewing in the awkward surrounding the Bed Text for just a bit longer. Incidental innuendoes are familiar territory, even if being called out for them by his younger sister adds a new layer of humiliation.

The notion doesn’t linger, though, but it’s due less to the embarrassment than it is to his brain bouncing from point to point like a pinball machine from hell. The mortification just ricochets back to the almost-slip in question, and—true to pattern as of late—propels his thoughts to a flare of fondness and Felicity. The thing that makes Tommy want to bury his face in one of the pillows that started it all, though, is the fact that the ball rebounds again to the current conversation, seemingly inescapable.

“It’s not weird?” The question comes hesitantly as he uncrosses his arms, immediately bringing one hand to rub the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s only two nights, and one already down—we’re back by tomorrow afternoon, no time at all. I feel like it’s too much, just me being unreasonably clingy.”

Experience seems to back up that impression, after all. Two years, five, more have created gulfs between Tommy and his loved ones, and even then, his longing and loneliness came off as exaggerated and one-sided.

But maybe that’s not entirely fair, he immediately scrambles to note. Oliver was working through his own problems at the time (in questionably-at-best healthy ways), caught up in a different storm of emotion and trauma that instinctively repelled Tommy—familiar magnets flipped to the same pole for the very first time. Perhaps it took more time and effort than either of them could have expected, and still never returned them to where they left off, but they did manage to establish a balance better suited to who they are now.

(Even Tommy’s being in this hotel room—as one of three co-owners of Verdant, joining Thea in exploring options for expanding the club outside of Starling—is evidence enough of that reconciliation and understanding.)

As for his father’s absence and return…

Well, any expression of emotion comes off as an overreaction when compared to Malcolm, and should not be counted.

Almost as if she senses Tommy’s once-solid evidence crumbling to dust, Thea pushes off the window seat, landing gracefully on her feet. “You’re overthinking this, especially with the texts. Just call her, all right? We don’t need to head out for at least another hour, so there’s plenty of time.”

Still lagging a little bit from trying to detangle his anxieties, Tommy nods absently in agreement as his eyes follow Thea’s movements towards the door. When she crosses the threshold to head back into the suite’s living area, though, his brain finally catches up. “Hey! How is it that you’re the one giving me relationship advice?”

Thea grips the doorframe and leans her full body back into the room, one eyebrow arched as she tilts her head to look at him.

“I mean, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? You know, older brother’s prerogative and all?” Tommy defends weakly, wilting under the sharp stare.

“Seeing as I ended up with emotionally-constipated brothers on both sides, I think that privilege has been revoked,” Thea declares, smoothly propelling herself back upright and reaching for the doorknob. She pulls it behind her as she finally departs, but not before shooting Tommy a cheeky, “I’ll give you some privacy to relay the magical properties of a hotel bed.”

Tommy imagines his immediate response is the sound an ostrich would make if strangled. “Okay, look…”

The door closes firmly before he can get any more words out, but not fast enough that he doesn’t catch Thea’s laughter.

“Brat,” Tommy mutters affectionately under his breath, before teetering backwards to flop down on said bed. The impact bounces his phone an inch or two above the comforter, only to land face-down right next to his hip.

Tommy’s breath catches in his chest as his attention is drawn again to the device, a mere hand-twitch within reach. Hardly any effort at all to pick up, and selecting Felicity’s name from his recent call log to re-dial is no more complex a step. But his hand seems to be declining all calls from his brain, remaining unmoving at his side without even an itch in the fingertips.

He’s overreacting—he has to be, and for real this time. It’s been barely a day since his standard morning protest of Felicity’s alarm (involving an exaggerated yawn and an arm stretched across her stomach to secure her in place for just a bit longer) was met with a laugh and a set of ice-cold toes pressed to his shins in retaliation. Barely a day since Tommy lumbered past the bathroom door on his way to the kitchen and couldn’t (wouldn’t) fight the grin that bloomed upon overhearing Felicity’s murmur-singing of some earworm while getting ready. Barely a day since she’d swept into the kitchen, all color and curls, to accept the travel mug of coffee from Tommy’s hands in exchange for a soft, lingering kiss and wishes for a safe flight.

A one-day break from routine—one that’s still a few months fresh, at that—and certain comfort shouldn’t be this jarring, should it?

After all, it’s not like they’ve been completely out of contact for the last 24 hours. Tommy had passed along travel updates (and a couple pictures taken mid-flight of Thea, tuned out with her neck pillow, eye mask, and earbuds); in turn, Felicity had relayed the shift between her day and night jobs, and confirmed her safe return home following the latter. There may temporarily be a few hundred miles of physical distance between them, but Felicity is still firmly here in Tommy’s life.

And yet, he can’t help but linger on the memory of waking this morning: rolling onto his stomach and reaching across the bed, only for his arm to land flat atop a mattress completely devoid of another body’s warmth. How the confusion and pinprick of hurt struck faster than the recognition that said bed wasn’t his own and why, and the clarity only served to transform it into a yearning ache. Even brushing his teeth was a more solemn affair, with Tommy still half-listening for Felicity puttering around and starting her day.

Maybe Thea… has a point.

Before Tommy can tend to the gentle bruise to his ego from admitting his younger sister has relationship wisdom where he does not, his phone buzzes with an incoming call. Synapses finally firing as they should, his hand wraps around the device and lifts it to his face to glance at the screen.

His fingers nearly fumble and drop the phone directly onto his face when he sees Felicity’s contact photo (one he’d surreptitiously taken shortly after they’d moved in together, when he’d caught her pleasantly lost in thought at the kitchen table) and the banner requesting a video call.

Thankfully, Tommy manages to spare himself that painful landing by adjusting his grip and scooting back into a seated position against the headboard. He takes and releases a deep breath to compose himself, before his thumb finds the Accept button.

Within an instant of Felicity coming into focus, Tommy feels his lips tug into a broad smile to compliment her still-sleepy one.

“Morning,” she greets with a little finger-wiggling wave, before she pulls a steaming mug of coffee into view with her other hand. After a second, she curls her fingers into her palm and wrinkles her nose in thought. “Wow, that was weird.”

“What, saying ‘good morning’?” Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

Felicity mirrors the expression and throws in a shrug. “I rarely get to open with it, at least. It’s usually beat out by someone requesting that I ‘please keep hands and feet and body inside the bed at all times’.”

“Always best to take those safety messages seriously, you know,” Tommy notes sagely. He can feel the corners of his mouth twitching, threatening an even bigger smile, but the impulse immediately extinguishes once he sees Felicity worrying her lower lip between her teeth and averting her gaze in uncertainty.

“I missed it today,” she blurts, catching them both off-guard after a (seemingly agonizingly long) beat. A light flush comes to her cheeks at that, but she confidently lifts her eyes back to meet Tommy’s and amends, “I missed you. Waking up with only a tangle of blankets trying to keep me in bed, and then getting ready on my own… I mean, it’s not unusual or unfamiliar, I did get by for many years this way. But I guess going back now, after getting into new and shared habits, is stranger than I expected.”

Felicity takes a breath to duck her head a little and push a stray curl behind her ear with her free hand, before picking up steam. “It must be something about the distance that’s getting to me—for no real reason, because it’s only been the one day and you’re back tomorrow—but I wanted to call and say…”

“I have pillows, blankets, supreme comfort, and all that’s missing is you.”

Only once Felicity pauses, lips frozen in a little “O” and only a single surprised blink to prove that the connection isn’t buffering, does Tommy realize he’s landed himself right back where he started. This time, though, he’s backed by Felicity’s own testimony, and that changes the game.

The lights on the pinball machine of his thoughts are going wild, that’s for sure.

“What I mean by that,” he starts, punctuating mid-sentence by awkwardly clearing his throat, “is that I miss you too. That I was actually looking forward to cold feet on my legs this morning, and hoping to hear you singing in the bathroom, and…”

Tommy trails off, disguising a small wince. Thea’s going to be smug about this for the rest of the weekend, and almost certainly for a while after they return to Starling.

“And I think that, if we’re both feeling this way, maybe we’re not overreacting so much as we’re… on to something.”

It’s difficult to determine what that “something” is, beyond the sense that it feels right. That they—Felicity and Tommy, together—feel right, and even a temporary deviation from pattern (no matter how small or odd) is a shock to the system.

It’s okay to miss her.

Felicity remains silent on the other end—the stunned expression having melted off her face and into something more thoughtful, but much less readable. Even though their conversation up to this point made their alignment apparently clear and she’s likely just turning the implications over in her mind, Tommy can’t help but subtly squirm from the suspense.

“Yeah,” Felicity finally speaks up, lips spreading in a small, soft smile as she nods in agreement. “Maybe we are.”

Despite that being the very answer Tommy was hoping to hear, he has no immediate idea how to respond.

“Oh. Uh, good,” he fumbles. “Because I’m hoping you’ll feel the same way about these pillows if I manage to find out where they’re from and get my hands on a few.”

Something in Tommy’s chest swoops as Felicity cracks out a startled yet amused laugh. “You’re really stuck on those, huh?”

Tommy meets that with a casual shrug and pats the one next to him for emphasis. “I’m a connoisseur. These meet all the necessary criteria, and then some.”

“And I’m a tough sell,” Felicity retorts, settling back in her seat and bringing her mug to her lips. “I know what I like, and I’m seeing only one pillow here that I want for sure by the end of the weekend.” To drive the point home, she bobs her head sharply to give Tommy a once-over.

“Well, now that I will gladly arrange,” Tommy agrees, and lets the grin spread unrestrained across his face.

[ricaffeine]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞

an: i'm sad because of hyunji drought and this is helping me cope :( but fr if tvn decides to make hotel blue moon then yeaji needs to be in it!!

also very annoying, i can't reply to comments bc this is a side blog (bruh wtf tumblr, i'm so sad should i make a new one?) reblog if you feel like it and my asks are open if you wanna chat 🖤✨

CHAPTER TWO

Weekdays at Seoul's National art gallery were usually the same. Buzzing curators dealing with hot-tempered clients. One thing or another was typically going not right and art directors cried about their wrong coffee order.

Although today was not the usual as to the crowds of bubbly news reporters and dazzled art critiques swarming up the wide place. As to Munyeong on the other hand, she was not pleased to the slightest.

"Just smile at the cameras, don't forget about the paycheck you're getting today." Sangin repeated himself for the fifth time. "Don't cause a scene, just think about the money."

Ah right. The paycheck.

As to The Nightmare Garden was bid off for over ten-million dollars, all of today's fanciness was dedicated to her, nation's celebrated female illustrator. However in all honesty, Munyeong barely liked her so-called masterpiece, but considering the amount of cash it will make her, she could be appreciative for the sake of it.

Behind her oversized sunglasses, Munyeong glared at her pesky manager– if looks could kill, he'd already be eleven feet under his grave. Sangin shut his mouth.

"Let's just get this over with," she simply responded, hooking off her eyewear then strutted into the hall with her long legs. Eyes whipped at her and cameras started to flash intensely, almost blinding her and Munyeong wondered how much those little pests could afford her if they got her blind.

And so the event played on. More pictures were taken– as if they hadn't blind her enough cheerful compliments flowed along with the spring breeze. The insincere joker smile she mastered whilst she met her million-dollar client– according to Sangin a hotel owner, though the woman did not have the looks for it– and the glass of filthy wine she almost had a chance to taste if Sangin's sixth sense was not so creepily fast.

Another dreadful two hours later as the dusk had set, hitting the edges with its golden flare, everyone had left. They got their articles and Munyeong will certainly be getting her pools of cash.

To her displease Sangin had informed her to wait as he had to take care of some paperworks she doubted he went to bribe the press into censoring her quoted inappropriate words. 

Nevertheless it was not her bother. She gave his plead a second before storming off to the complimentary section of the building.

Luck on her side, for nobody was there and she was able to grab one of the wine bottles with her– as for a fact it definitely was not stealing.

"Don't be shy, I know you want it."

Munyeong stopped within her steps as soon as an obnoxiously familiar voice echoed from the gallery she previously was in. Curiosity taking the lead, she peaked through the corner and had to muffle her own snort. Stood there, nation's art historian with the sharpest tongue– Choi Seojin.

She finds it hard to believe that his articles are highly known around, or even relevant, when his mouth is full of complete shit. However not disregarding the nastiest tea yet– a frightened girl seized under him. Her hands were locked, frightened eyes grew larger as the man spewed out nasty things.

Instantly, she took out her phone to film the disgraceful scene. Munyeong grinned to herself, reminiscing the rage she felt last time when he mentioned about her mother, and how her irritating manager had interrupted her before she could've sent him down the stairs to Satan.

The man reared into the poor girl's cheek when she attempted to fight him off, and Munyeong's smile dropped.

That piece of shit.

Munyeong entered the room, arms crossed, head high. Her wedge heels clicked against the hardwood as she let out an unamused wow.

Mad dog– what she personally thinks he should be called– 's head whipped at her with wide eyes. Like a child getting caught of lying.

"Oh my. Your hobbies are quite interesting Mr. Choi. Talking shit and sexual harassment?" Munyeong spat. "The girl looks like she'd rather kill herself, why are you even trying?"

As if he thought he could get away with what he just did, mad dog released his foul grip on the girl. Munyeong clicked her tongue and tauntingly held out her phone.

"Oh no, don't bother pretending. Judging by the looks, that won't even favor you at this point." She spared a glance at the quivering girl. "Why are you waiting? Go."

Shakingly and with thankful eyes she nodded and left, her footsteps filling void of silence before it coated the air again.

Mad dog snickered, as if there was something to laugh about. "Don't mess with me Ms. Ko. You know me, I won't die alone."

"Certainly I'll drag you and Mr. Lee down with me. Why do you think they call me the suicide bomb?"

Munyeong walked towards him and spreaded a smile, though even dogs could tell you shouldn't push her further. "You mean the bastard you can't fall down without dragging everyone else with him? Why?"

"I can destroy your career with the tip of my pen, I'm sure you know." He gave her a look, panning out his hand. "Now if you hand me your phone, I think we can compromise something."

Munyeong unraveled her arms, eyes hardening at his next sentence. "You think so?"

"Nation's beloved artist turned out to have antisocial personality disorder. What do you think will happen when people find out?" Mad dog sneered. "Her mother who mysteriously commited suicide–"

"Shut up." She warned. His words lit up the flame from their last encounter, adding fuel to her burning fire. Her head pounded, hard. For a moment she had hoped that if he proceeded as she said, then things would not have to get ugly.

"And her father? Spending his last days in the psychiatric hospital."

But men never listen, do they?

Munyeong tightened the hand around her bottle and striked it at him with full force. The bottom part crashed the wall behind him– just above the hung painting- glass shattered as rich burgundy stained its way down, smearing all over. Its taste fused with the air and Munyeong glowered at the creature who dodged her flawless aim.

"You crazy bitch!" He yelled, scrambled on the floor. But Mad dog was quick to lunge at her, they both hit the ground, stumbling as her open purse had been knocked away– and Munyeong's eyes landed on something very specific.

She was quicker, getting on her feet and spared the bastard a strong kick in the groin, leaving him groaning as she reached for her pen.

Her favorite calligraphy pen– its lining was stunning, coated in shiny teal with hints of gold, but most importantly, the dangerously sharp tip. The way it writes like reaping out blood from your hand– hence why it is a favorite.

She hawled back over and he screamed at her, though she didn't hear him. Her head was light as she felt blood rushed through her veins. Munyeong raised her arm and struck it back down.

Die.

Both of them froze. No, not her and mad dog, but him.

Deafening silence had lied between the walls and there they stood, eyes pierced into another's souls. Hers burned like fire, but his were dignified like the deep ocean.

Droplets of blood trickled down his forearm and splattered the floor, staining the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt. What a waste.

"Let go. You can't kill him." The man– still with a bloody pen graved in his palm said.

Munyeong couldn't help but scoff, especially after that fucking bastard had just strangled her. "Don't be dramatic. I was just going to give him a few scratches."

Well maybe that's not entirely true.

Rough scrambling erupted underneath them, but when Munyeong turned to look, the mad dog had just ran off, like a lost puppy. Angrily she bit her lip, close to drawing blood until she felt the man draw his own hand back.

She watched as he did. The way he carefully slid her pen into his jacket and brought out a black silk handkerchief. Very rarely, she'd be astonished by something, and now it's him. Though she found it quite difficult to understand him– since when do you interrupt another's stabbing session by screwing up your own hand instead, and also the audacity to tell her she could not stab somebody?

So lost in her thoughts it took her a few seconds to realize her pulse was not pounding anymore.

"Did anyone not tell you that it is basic etiquette to not pry into someone else's business?" Munyeong said– seized the napkin from him, and began to tie a knot. She shot him a glance.

No reply. The man simply stared at her.

"Hmm?" She raised a brow, amused at his slight flinch when she tugged a little harder.

"Don't stress it too much, my manager will take care of our little incident." Munyeong chuckled as he proceeded to ignore her. "Do you know what? There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die. And some very thoughtful freaks secretly take care of that, so clueless humans can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware. Which one do you think I am?"

She dropped his hand, anticipating for his answer. Flares of light shined through the blinds, sharpening at his strong features and she noted his small– yet devilish smile.

"A clueless freak."

He finally responded, leaning towards her. His eyes traced her face, gazing down at her lips for a second too long, before their eyes were locked once again. "And of course you will have to pay, but at what price?"

taglist -> i could not tag some of ya'll :( @anotherdush @callmeashipper @ourcoffeeaddictme @nothingcreativeyet @pancat @hotstuff-benswolo @lookingatthesunset @evielovesfood @waywarm @gloster @hello-79 @ailander

[melancholymaz]

The Eye Of The Storm

A/N: This is apart of @the--sad--hatter​‘s Tea party challenge, enjoy! 

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader, Wanda Maximoff x Platonic!reader. 

Warnings: Mission gone south, alcohol use, talks of the red room. 

A/N: Tbh I dunno what this is, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. 

You didn’t want this to happen, but you suppose there was no way to prevent it, no matter how much you tried.  

 You hated knowing she was in pain, you both had endured so much of it since a young age and you just wanted the pain to end for her.  

You, Natasha and Wanda were on a mission that went sideways, and you tried to take on the job of the rogue agents, but Natasha was put in a position of “you shoot and this civilian dies too”. Natasha did everything she could, the agent died, but so did the civilian. It’s been 22 hours since you got home, and you still haven’t seen Natasha. You can feel her pain, her guilt, her self-hatred and regret. You haven’t slept, despite your mental and physical exhaustion. You couldn’t, not while knowing Nat was in pain. You know not to push yourself into her space, you know she’ll come to you when she’s ready. So, you sit back into the chair, a bottle of straight whiskey sitting in your hand as you watch the life outside go by. 

 You’ll wait for her, you always do and she knows it.

 “Well you look like shit.” Wanda’s voice cuts into the silence of your room, you turn your head to look at her, watching her pull a chair next to yours. Silently you hand her the bottle knowing she needs it too, probably too shy to grab her own from the bar.  

 “I don’t see why, I’ve gotten plenty of beauty sleep.” you both chuckle as you sit in silence, enjoying each other's company. The pair of you sit there for hours, going in between comfortable silence to talking about anything and everything. You go through too many bottles to count, and by now your words are slurred and slow.  

 “So... you and Nat?” Wanda asks hesitantly. “What made that come about?”  

 “I’ve loved her since the day I met her.” You tell her honestly; a smile slowly creeps up on your face as you watch Wanda watch you. “I knew it straight away to, despite the whole “Love is for children” thing we had going on.”  

 “You were in the red room too?” The way she asks is so innocent, it reminds you that Wanda is one of the younger ones of the team.  

“Yeah.” Is all you reply at first, but after a few seconds you continue. “The difference is, is that I was born into it. My Mama and Papa were a part of the academy and was ordered by Madame to create me. Their perfect assassin bred from the best at the time.”    

“How did you meet Natasha for the first time, if you don’t mind me asking?” Wanda turns her body in the chair to be facing you, giving her undivided attention, her eyes bright with curiosity.  

 “She’d been there a while, before I met her. I was 8, I think. Madame decided I would be the one to be her partner, show her the ropes, I guess. I was confused.” Tears spring to your eyes as you think back to the worst time of your life. “Usually being buddies was a bad thing, anyone found friendly with each other usually had to fight until only one remained.”  

 “Oh my god...” Wanda whispers, a hand covering her mouth. “Why’d she want you two to be... friends?”  

“Madame saw how talented Nat was, and decided she’d make us a pair. Train us to be the deadliest duo. She succeeded, obviously.  We grew up together, did everything together and no one had a clue we were secretly in a relationship. Madame never suspected her two deadliest girls to be the softest.”    

The last sentence is said bitterly, taking a swig of the bottle before chuckling dryly.  

“The day Clint saved us, was a day neither of us saw coming. Being at SHIELD, we could be who we wanted to be, and didn’t have to hide behind bushes, or go days before we could get something as little as a kiss.” You hear Wanda sniffle, and notice she was crying. You smile at her before wiping her tears away.    

“That’s such a... beautiful yet ugly love story.” Wanda chuckles, you smile once more before replying.  

 “I wouldn’t know where I'd be without her.” You can’t help but look at the background of your phone, a photo of Natasha and you in the grass on Clints farm, you are running towards the camera with Natasha on your back, smiles the widest they’ve ever been. Lila had snapped the photo, and that’s what makes the photo so precious. Wanda stands and stretches, a yawn coming through as she tells you she’s going to bed, finally ready to get some sleep. You bid her goodnight, not moving from the spot you’ve been seated in for hours. You sit there for a while more, now into the early hours of the morning before a quiet, hesitant knock on the door breaks the silence.  

 You take a deep breath, and wait patiently for her to come in. A head of red hair is all you see in the moonlight that shines into your shared room. You stand and slowly walk toward her, and when she reaches you all you do is pull her into a secure hug and let her get her emotions out. Her shoulder bops up and down as she cries, your top moist from tears, her muffled cries sound into the room.  

 “I got you, my love. It’s okay, I got you.” Your words make her cry harder, and you hold her tighter, rubbing her back and cradling her head to your chest, swaying softly. “It wasn’t your fault, there was nothing you could have done.”  

 “Why do you always know what to say?” Her voice is raspy, almost gone.  

 “Because it’s you. There’s no one in this world that knows you better than I do, not even you.” You reply, holding her face to look up at you. Her usual bright green eyes are dark, red with emotion. You swipe your thumb to take away the tears, and she gives you the smallest smile noticeable. “I love you more than anything Natalia Alianovna.”  

 “And I you, Y/F/N Y/M/N.” You give her a kiss, a kiss that explains every emotion needed in that moment. Love, understanding, protection and promise. “You’ve been drinking.”  

 “So have you, are you really that surprised?” You ask in a joking tone, in which she laughs, your favourite sound making your heartbeat skip.  

 “No, I guess not.” Natasha replies. “Have you slept at all?” 

 “No.”  

 “Me neither.”  

 “I know. Think you’d be able to catch a few hours?” You lead her to the bed without an answer, knowing that you’d both drift off eventually.  

 “Now that I’m with you I could.” Her head lays on your chest as she replies, listening to your heartbeat as you both take in the moment of finally being together. “I can do anything when I’m with you, Y/N.” 

[katierosefun]

rest now

or five times people used obi-wan kenobi as a pillow, and the one time everyone let themselves be obi-wan’s pillow. based on this post i made a little while back. 

read on ao3 | read on ff 

wc: 6732

1.      Commander Cody

They were exhausted and battle worn, their armor cracked and coated with the dirt and dust of the battleground, but still, Obi-Wan and Cody stayed standing until the rest of the 212th were evacuated from the site. A bug buzzed somewhere near Obi-Wan’s neck, and he batted it away. The bugs were probably attracted to the sweat and the blood—not his—still dipping into the collar of his tunic.

He couldn’t wait to get off this planet.

He knew he wasn’t the only one.

Obi-Wan had only been working with Cody for a few weeks now, but already, he had grown accustomed to the commander’s demeanor. Quiet and steady, Cody hadn’t so much as faltered at the battles that they had gone into. A part of Obi-Wan worried at that—grew wary at the case with which Cody, along with so many other men, could go into war seemingly without a second thought.

Or maybe not completely without a second thought, Obi-Wan thought now as the last shuttle dropped in front of Cody and himself. Now that all the 212th had left, Obi-Wan sensed the fractures in Cody’s own mask of calm.

They wordlessly got on the shuttle, the doors shutting out the heat and the bugs. For a moment, all Obi-Wan saw was darkness—and then the lights inside the shuttle flickered on, and then they were taking off, leaving the blasted dusty planet behind.

Obi-Wan let out a breath as the shuttle ascended into the atmosphere. Somewhere up there, he knew that they would get into the cruiser, and then Obi-Wan would probably find Anakin and Ahsoka, probably just as batter-worn from their own share of the fight. Obi-Wan would have to go to the debriefing after checking with his men—his men, something he still couldn’t quite get used to.

A burst of cool air from the shuttle’s ventilation system dried the remaining sweat on Obi-Wan’s face. He swiped an arm over his forehead. A shower. He wouldn’t mind a shower right after the meeting, either, even if the idea of staying awake and upright for any longer than he had to felt like another battle on its own.

But he would bear it, just as he had everything in the last few weeks.

He had only just completed that thought when he felt something drop against his shoulder. Obi-Wan looked down and made out the top of his commander’s helmet. He paused, unsure what exactly to—how exactly would he—

Obi-Wan half-expected Cody to bolt awake, and he angled his head slightly away to avoid the oncoming jerk against his chin—but Cody stayed fast asleep, his breathing deep and even within the helmet.

And Obi-Wan could feel the weariness radiating off his commander, the bone-deep kind of weariness that came with perhaps too many days of fighting and not enough rest.

So Obi-Wan turned back towards to the viewport. He inhaled slowly, so as to not even let his breath disturb Cody’s rest. They would get into the cruiser in a few minutes, anyways. Obi-Wan decided, with a slight, wistful smile on his face, that he would grant his commander these few minutes of peace before the next storm.

2.      Padmé Amidala

“Thank you for the meal, Bail,” Obi-Wan said as he helped the senator move the dishes into the kitchen.

“You’re welcome,” Bail replied. He took the plates from Obi-Wan’s hands and jerked his head into the sitting room. “You sit down. Guests aren’t allowed to do the dishes.”

“You know I don’t—”

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t mind—go.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but he lifted his hands in mock surrender before walking out of the kitchen. He found Padmé and Anakin already in the sitting room, their heads bent low near each other’s—and then quickly parting as Obi-Wan made his steps heard.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said loudly, his face flushed with either the alcohol or something else, Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure. Watching Anakin’s eyes dart quickly over to Padmé, Obi-Wan changed his mind. He decided the faint pink in his former apprentice’s face was definitley due to something other than alcohol.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan only replied, sitting down on the couch beside Padmé.

The senator and he exchanged a brief smile, and though Padmé’s face, too, was just a tad brighter than a few minutes before, the senator’s face remained neutral as she said, “I see that Bail finally managed to get you out of the kitchen.”

“He practically chased me out,” Obi-Wan said, ignoring the bark of laughter from the kitchen.

“Well, given your track record, I would think that chasing was a bit necessary,” Padmé replied. “Don’t you think, Anakin?”

“Absolutely,” Anakin replied, and though the color in his face was dying down, Obi-Wan still noticed the shine in Anakin’s eyes as he fixed his attention back on Padmé. It was almost enough for Obi-Wan to start shaking his head right there—really, Anakin was terrible at keeping secrets. Padmé and Anakin both were, but Obi-Wan had neither the capacity nor the desire to protest against their manners.

He briefly wondered if that made him a bad Jedi, quietly turning blind in this moment—but he quickly shoved those thoughts away.

Obi-Wan was relieved when Bail finally walked into the sitting room, glasses in hand. He set them down on the table and passed one automatically to Obi-Wan, and then the conversation slowly turned to talk of politics and home worlds and speeder models and a holodrama that Bail and Padmé had apparently started watching.

Obi-Wan was glad to let the conversation wash over him, glad to just smile and offer the occasional quip or question. He leaned back against the couch, leaving his glass three-quarters of the way drained, his head only slightly buzzing with the alcohol. His whole body felt comfortably warm otherwise, and through his own haze, he noticed that Anakin had only taken a few sips from his own glass. When Anakin caught Obi-Wan looking, he only grinned and mouthed, driving.

Obi-Wan smiled and let his head fall back against the couch cushions as the conversation dulled down further, until it was just Bail and Anakin talking—Bail, still very much awake and cheerfully carrying conversation with Anakin about the latest updates on whatever new speeder model had come out.

While Padmé…at some point, Padmé had gone quiet, and only when her head fell on his shoulder did Obi-Wan realize that the senator had fallen asleep. Obi-Wan lifted his head to look first at Anakin and then Bail in silent question, but without even breaking from the conversation, Bail reached over for one of the throw blankets on one of the couches and tossed it to Anakin.

And Anakin, still not breaking from conversation, only heaped the blanket over Padmé’s sleeping form. Obi-Wan managed to catch Anakin’s eyes a second time—and found, with some curiosity, that he felt some strange relief in the smirk Anakin tossed Obi-Wan’s way.

Deciding that he didn’t want to decipher that smirk, Obi-Wan slowly, carefully re-settled back on the couch and only re-adjusted the blanket around Padmé’s shoulders before leaving her to sleep on his shoulder.

3.      Satine Kryze

“I should have known you’d be here.”  

Satine lifted her head from her book. Night had completely fallen over Mandalore, the distant lights of the city and the moon being the only source of brightness in the otherwise sleeping planet. A small pool of moonlight encircled Satine now as she stood up, closing her book.

“Obi-Wan,” she said. “I thought you would be sleeping by now.”

Obi-Wan dipped his head towards Satine. “The excitements of the day haven’t quite worn me out, I’m afraid.”

“Ah.” Satine settled the book against her front. She sat back down on the grass. “Care to join me?”

Obi-Wan glanced around the courtyard. He had been in this place before, in the last few days he had on Mandalore, back those years ago. Satine and he had explored some of the courtyards, and this one had been one of their favorites. Smaller than the others, a little more secluded. A pond was somewhere nearby, bubbling with only some of the fish that dared flick their tails above water. A tree swaying with a warm breeze that could only somehow be carried in this section of the palace. With the breeze, Obi-Wan caught the scents of the courtyard: grass, some nighttime flowers, and Satine.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Obi-Wan only asked, walking into the courtyard. He sat down next to Satine, who only gave him a brief smile. “What are you reading?”

She lifted the book. “A childhood favorite of mine,” she replied somewhat wistfully. “Although I’m afraid the story isn’t quite as captivating as it once was. A consequence of no longer being a child, I suppose.”

“Different times, different tastes,” Obi-Wan replied conversationally. He tilted his head towards the book. “I would still like to know what it’s about.”

“Well,” Satine said, handing the book to Obi-Wan, “it’s all rather dramatic, if you must know.”

“Is it now,” Obi-Wan said, amused. The book was lighter than Obi-Wan expected. He could feel the slight wear on the spine, the cover as he flipped it open. The pages were slightly curled with age and years of use.

“It’s about two eventual lovers,” Satine said, a smile curling over her lips. “Separated by a conflict between their own families, although we never learn what exactly that conflict was.” She shrugged, leaning back down against the grass. “An unhappy tale, really.”

Obi-Wan looked down at Satine, at those clear eyes of hers reflecting back the night sky. “How so?”

“Well,” Satine murmured, folding her hands against her stomach, “the lovers both die in the end, although neither had to.” She nodded to the volume in Obi-Wan’s hand. “The girl fakes her death, and thinking that she truly is dead, the boy kills himself. The girl wakes, and upon seeing her lover dead, she kills herself as well.” She turned back up to the sky. “Truly horrible.”

Obi-Wan looked down at the book. “And this was a childhood favorite?”

“Don’t laugh,” Satine said. “I used to think it was romantic. Used to.”

“And now?”

Satine looked at Obi-Wan and laughed. “Now I think it’s rather silly,” she replied. “A tutor of mine once explained that the author might have written this story as a mockery of love rather than a true expression of it. I’m rather inclined to agree.”

“An interesting interpretation,” Obi-Wan said. He flipped over to the first page and, clearing his throat, read, “Two households, both alike in dignity—”

“What are you doing?” Satine asked, propping herself up on an elbow.

“Well, you said this was a childhood favorite,” Obi-Wan replied lightly. “I might as well see why.”

“Obi-Wan—”

“As I was saying—in fair Verona, where we lay our scene…”

Satine only huffed and settled back down on the grass. “Impossible,” she said. “That’s what you are.”

“Now, don’t interrupt Duchess, I’m already rather intrigued.”

Satine laughed again, and Obi-Wan made it through the entire prologue before he, too, settled down on the grass beside the duchess. He was aware of how their heads were brushing against each other, the rise and fall of Satine’s chest, the occasional sigh as he read on. He read until his voice was little more than a murmur, and he had read up until the fifth scene of the first act before he felt Satine’s head nestle against the crook between his shoulder and neck.

Obi-Wan’s voice stuttered for a moment, and he looked down to find Satine’s face buried against him, her expression content. She let out a soft sigh, and Obi-Wan took that as a signal to keep reading, his voice growing softer and softer until he was doing little more than just mouthing the words.

But he had completely forgotten about what he was reading, and only when he actually got to the ending did he remember where they were.

Obi-Wan looked down at Satine, still asleep.

He brushed a strand of her hair back. She shivered a little, the rest of her face disappearing into Obi-Wan’s neck.

Obi-Wan smiled. “You’re right, my dear,” he said quietly. “That was a horrible ending.”

4.      Ahsoka Tano

“I just don’t understand,” Ahsoka huffed from across the table. She was clicking through documents on the computer, her eyes already glazed from the screen. “Master Skywalker agrees that I learn better on the field than I do with these lessons.”

“I’m sure he does,” Obi-Wan murmured, adjusting the brightness on the computer screen. The Archives had gotten considerably darker, and though the lights adjusted accordingly, the computers unfortunately did not. Obi-Wan’s eyesight wasn’t getting any better, either. He swiped a hand across his eyes before re-focusing on the screen.

“I just don’t understand,” Ahsoka repeated. “We’re fighting a war. Why do I need to know about this stuff? It’s not like a droid is going to ask me to recite philosophy before shooting me.”

“Padawan.”

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” Ahsoka asked, ducking her head around the computer. She blinked with comical innocence at Obi-Wan. And Obi-Wan only shook his head. A part of him wanted to smile—Ahsoka reminded him so much of Anakin in some ways, especially with that cheerful look she gave him now. But another part of him couldn’t help but feel a kick to his chest—there was something so incredibly strange and wrong about hearing a child so casually talk of being targeted on the battlefield.

Then again, the war had changed what childhood meant for so many, and the Jedi were not exempt from such changes.

“Focus on your studies,” Obi-Wan only said, looking back at his computer. Ignoring Ahsoka’s groan, Obi-Wan added, “You may not need to recite philosophy for a droid, but you will need to sharpen all parts of your mind.”

“My mind’s already sharpened,” Ahsoka mumbled.

“Then sharpen it more.”

Ahsoka groaned again, but she didn’t argue. The evening sounds of the Archives slowly filled the long room: the rustle of robes and cloaks, the scrape of chairs being pushed out or pushed in, the buzz of the lamps, the whir of a droid somewhere down the hall.

Obi-Wan had lost himself in the near-silence of the Archives before he suddenly became aware that Ahsoka was no longer clicking or typing on her computer.

“Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan called, ducking around the computer.

And he found Ahsoka with her head resting against a propped-up hand, lips slightly parted against her palm.

Obi-Wan smiled to himself. He glanced out the windows, knowing even before he found the dark sky that night had completely fallen. They had been in the Archives for many hours now, and frankly, despite Ahsoka’s complaining, the girl had lasted longer than Obi-Wan had figured she would. That would be something Obi-Wan would have to tell Anakin once he got back from his mission.

Obi-Wan pushed himself out of his chair and after shutting off his own computer, made his way around to Ahsoka’s side.

A few books were still scattered around the computer, some half-open, others with pages still fluttering against some phantom breeze. Obi-Wan closed those books and pushed them to the side, stacking them neatly by the organization system the Archives called for. Then he leaned across the desk to shut down Ahsoka’s computer. He found the philosophy text still up on the screen. Ahsoka had gotten through perhaps three-quarters of the way before falling asleep. Which was impressive, Obi-Wan figured, for someone who so clearly hated philosophy.

Obi-Wan shut off the computer and looked down at Ahsoka. She was still asleep, her hand still holding up her head.

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said quietly, resting a hand on her shoulder. He shook it once, just enough for Ahsoka to stir. “Perhaps you should sleep in a more comfortable place.”

Ahsoka, her eyes glazed over with sleep, only blinked owlishly at Obi-Wan. She rubbed a fist over her eyes, and Obi-Wan became painfully aware of how young she truly was. Fourteen years old—still a little older than most younglings who became Padawans, but still unbearably young for someone about to be launched into a war.

“Okay,” Ahsoka murmured, and she started up from her chair, only to plop right back down, eyes already fluttering shut. “’m tired.” Her voice was small, plaintive—a tone that Obi-Wan had not heard Ahsoka use ever.

“Here,” Obi-Wan said, and gently, he tugged Ahsoka up by the wrists. “To your quarters now.” He directed themselves away from the desks, but before he could fully get them to the main corridor of the Archives, Ahsoka’s head bumped against Obi-Wan’s chest, her eyes still closed.

“Ahsoka—”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ahsoka mumbled, stepping backwards. She blinked a few more times, crashing against the back of one of the chairs. “Sorry.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be concerned. “Are you alright?”

“’m fine,” Ahsoka said, rubbing her fist over her eyes again. “Just…” She took a small step away from the chair, towards Obi-Wan—and stumbled again.

Tired—she must have been more tired than she had been letting on, Obi-Wan noted as Ahsoka sat back down on the chair, her head resting against its back. Another pang went through Obi-Wan’s chest. The girl held much of her strength like a shield around herself everyone carried a shield around themselves these days, Jedi and non-Jedi alike—and now, apparently, the young as well as the old.

Obi-Wan sighed. Then, sinking down in front of Ahsoka, he guided her arms around his shoulders, found the back of her legs and hoisted themselves up.

Ahsoka’s head bobbed against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, her hands dangling in front of him.

“Master?” Ahsoka mumbled, her feet knocking lightly against the sides of Obi-Wan’s legs. “What’re you…”

“We can’t have you stumbling around the halls, now, can we?” Obi-Wan only said. He swiveled his back just enough to give Ahsoka a small smile. “Rest, young one.”

Ahsoka hummed a little, her head falling against Obi-Wan’s shoulder once more.

And Obi-Wan carried Ahsoka all the way back to her quarters.

5.      Anakin Skywalker

“Have you seen Anakin?”

“He was by the cliffs, sir,” Rex replied, gesturing back to where a cluster of troopers still stood. Obi-Wan stood up and, narrowing his eyes, he indeed spotted the one spot of black clothing, and then the bright flash of a blue saber.

“What is he doing?” Obi-Wan asked, more to himself than to Rex.

“Leading the sweep on the last few droids,” Rex replied. “I only just came back from my half of the sweep.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at that still-swinging slash of blue. “He’s hurt,” he said.

“I tried to tell him,” Rex said.

Obi-Wan gave Rex a dry smile. “I’m sure you did, Captain,” he replied. “Not to worry—Anakin tends to be stubborn.”

Rex smiled back, but it quickly faded as the two men turned their attention back on Anakin. “If he’s hurt, then—”

“Not to worry,” Obi-Wan repeated, already swinging down from the low platform. He looked up to Rex. “Just be prepared when I finally bring him back. Make sure Kix is available.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex replied, and he hurried off in a flash of white and blue.

Which left Obi-Wan to Anakin.

He turned around and made his way through the battle-worn grounds, pointedly walking around droid parts and fallen blasters. The closer he walked, the louder Anakin’s lightsaber and the other troopers’ blaster fire became until even the sounds of the bugs and the other critters of the planet were drowned out by the action.

Obi-Wan found Anakin quickly. Hair plastered to the back of his neck, face pale but eyes and cheeks bright, a confident swagger in his step even when clearly injured—Anakin was the glowing image of the Hero with No Fear that Chancellor Palpatine had instilled for the Republic. The image and the title didn’t sit well with Obi-Wan—he barely liked the title instilled on him (The Negotiator, as though he were a character in a story), but looking at Anakin’s bold movements and bright smile, Obi-Wan could understand where at least his former apprentice’s new title came from.

“That’s the last of them, boys!” Anakin said now, just as Obi-Wan heard the dull clatter of what he could have only assumed was the destroyed battle droids. Obi-Wan felt both relief and pride radiating off the cluster of troopers, off Anakin.

And then Anakin’s eyes found Obi-Wan’s, and he grinned, shutting off his lightsaber. “You’re a little late for the party, Master,” he said. “We’ve taken care of it.”

“Yes, I can tell,” Obi-Wan said. “Well done.” He weaved through the troopers until he reached Anakin at last. Up this close, Obi-Wan could make out the individual beads of sweat rolling down the side of Anakin’s face, his neck. The slight heave of his chest as he tried to keep his breathing even. Obi-Wan flicked his gaze down to Anakin’s side. Even without touching him, he could sense the damage done.

Anakin’s eyes followed Obi-Wan’s, the smile fading from his face. He subtly moved away, clipping his lightsaber to his side. “Right,” he said loudly. “Back to the ships, men.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

Obi-Wan waited until the troopers had all left before saying, “You should know better.”

“I’m fine,” Anakin said automatically, but now that the troopers were gone, Obi-Wan could hear the slight strain in his friend’s voice. “It’s not even that bad.” He took a few steps forward—shuffled, more like, and that was when Obi-Wan knew that the situation was much worse than he had originally thought.

“Anakin, wait—”

But Anakin was sliding down from the ledge, and for a moment, he stayed upright.

Obi-Wan slipped down the ledge next to Anakin just as he started swaying, one hand reaching for his side.

“Anakin—”

Anakin’s face tightened as he leaned back against the rock ledge. Obi-Wan reached for Anakin automatically, catching him by the arm just as Anakin started to slide down. “Probably shouldn’t have…done that,” Anakin ground out through clenched teeth.

“You shouldn’t have,” Obi-Wan agreed, winding an arm gingerly around Anakin’s side. Though he kept his own touches light, he felt the flare of pain underneath—fractured ribs. Multiple. Obi-Wan inhaled sharply.

“It’s not that bad,” Anakin mumbled, but the reediness in his voice suggested otherwise. “I can walk back.”

“Clearly, you can’t,” Obi-Wan replied. “I can call Kix—he’ll bring a stretcher.”

Anakin let out a breath, sinking directly into Obi-Wan’s side—which was another sure sign that the injuries must have been more painful than usual, because Anakin never gave himself away, not like this. So Obi-Wan only re-adjusted his grip on Anakin and suggested, “We should sit down first.”

Anakin nodded mutely, and with that, the two settled back down on the dirt.

“Kix,” Obi-Wan said into his comm.

“Yes, General.”

“General Skywalker is injured,” Obi-Wan said as Anakin’s head lolled against his shoulder. Obi-Wan glanced over at Anakin. His eyes were drifting shut, whether from the pain or exhaustion, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure. All the same, Obi-Wan’s chest tightened as a shudder ran through Anakin’s body. “We will need a stretcher.”

“Yes, General.”

With that, Obi-Wan turned towards Anakin. His former apprentice’s eyes were completely closed now, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Obi-Wan could feel the damp of Anakin’s hair, his warm breath against his skin.

And then Anakin’s head rolled past Obi-Wan’s shoulder, causing both Obi-Wan and Anakin to startle.

“Sorry,” Anakin mumbled, opening his eyes. “I didn’t—” He started to move upright but stopped mid-motion, a low groan leaving his lips.

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan said, setting a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. Anakin relaxed under Obi-Wan’s hand. “Rest.”

Anakin huffed out a breath. “You’re never going to let me hear the end of this, are you?”

“Never,” Obi-Wan replied with a brief smile. He guided Anakin towards himself. “It might do you better to lie down with your ribs the way they are. It’ll make getting on the stretcher easier as well.”

Anakin huffed out another breath—one that sounded more like a laugh, but he managed a small nod. He started to lower himself to the ground, wincing at even that slight movement. Obi-Wan kept his hand on Anakin’s shoulder, murmuring encouragements until Anakin’s head was right on Obi-Wan’s lap.

“You’re definitley not going to let me hear the end of this,” Anakin mumbled, his eyes already closing.

“No,” Obi-Wan agreed, resting his head against the rock ledge. He saw troopers still hustling on the platform in the distance, and above that, the now darkening sky. Obi-Wan saw some stars glimmer into existence—just the earliest, brightest ones as the sun’s last yellow rays hushed themselves over the horizon.

Obi-Wan heard a small sigh, and when he looked down, he found that Anakin’s eyes had closed completely.

Obi-Wan smiled to himself, brushing back a strand of still-damp hair from Anakin’s forehead. And then he looked back up at the darkening sky, where he found two bright stars winking down at him.

+1.

It was a universally known fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi needed sleep.

Which was why today, everyone was staring at Obi-Wan Kenobi like he had just grown a pair of wings, because he was asleep. And sleeping on Commander Cody’s shoulder, no less.

Cody only stared at the rest of the troopers in front of him in silent panic. But they only watched with mild amusement as the gunship landed down on Coruscant. The flight had been smooth, thankfully, and perhaps it being too smooth had been the reason why the general of the 212th had chosen that specific time to doze off.

Not that Cody necessarily minded. It was no secret that Kenobi was exhausted, and they had been running operations for seemingly weeks on end. This temporary leave had come as a relief to all.

Still, Cody wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to do, now that Obi-Wan was at his shoulder. Cody expected that the man would wake soon, probably jerk up the minute the gunship doors opened, but he did nothing of the sort. Cody wasn’t sure if that made him relieved or not. Because on the one hand, the general truly did need his sleep, but on the other—

“Got something there, Cody?”

Cody only gestured a finger to his lips as a signal to keep Rex’s voice down.

But the captain only grinned. “How’d that happen?” he asked, nodding at Obi-Wan, still fast asleep.

“I don’t know,” Cody replied quietly, not trusting himself to raise his voice any louder without waking the general. “Should I…” He glanced down at Obi-Wan, and then glanced back at Rex. “I don’t know if I should wake him.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Rex replied. “He probably needs the rest.” He looked over his shoulder, and Cody followed the captain’s gaze to where a few senators were speaking amongst each other. They technically didn’t have to be there—Cody knew that they only came to boost morale, but still, he saw a semi-familiar face amongst that small group.

“Senator Amidala is a friend of his,” Rex said. “I’m sure she could help.”

Before Cody could say anything else, Rex walked away and returned with the warm-eyed senator.

“Commander,” Padmé said, tilting her head in a nod.

“Senator,” Cody replied. He didn’t really know the senator, but the minute Padmé smiled at Obi-Wan, Cody decided that he trusted her.

“I see you’re in a bit of a situation,” Padmé said.

“Not a situation, Senator,” Cody replied. “Not too much trouble.”

“Yes,” Padmé said, amused. “I see.” She looked backwards, nodding to where a speeder waited. “I’m about to head back to the Senate Building—and that’s a bit closer to the Temple from here. I would be glad to take him there.”

“We wouldn’t want to trouble—”

“It’s no trouble, Commander,” Padmé said, that smile of hers returning.

Cody exchanged a look with Rex, who just shrugged.

“If you say so, Senator,” Cody said, and with that, Padmé came around to Obi-Wan’s other side. Again, Cody expected Obi-Wan to wake, but he didn’t so much as stir as Padmé wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist. The warm weight of Obi-Wan’s head left Cody’s shoulder, and Padmé nodded once again to Cody and Rex.

“Have a nice day, gentlemen,” she said, and then she turned, supporting Obi-Wan to the speeder.

And Padmé, like Cody, didn’t terribly mind the fact that Obi-Wan was leaning against her, nor did she terribly mind Obi-Wan’s head on her shoulder as she started up the speeder. He only stirred awake at the grumble of the speeder, his eyes blinking open briefly.

“Where…” he started to murmur, but then he blinked at his surroundings: the blurring skyscrapers of Coruscant, the glow of the lights both above and below. And then, clearly reassured that there was no danger, Obi-Wan dropped his head back against Padmé’s shoulder.

Padmé only laughed quietly to herself, mentally noting the moment as something to tell Anakin later. He probably wouldn’t believe her even if she told him. So Padmé pressed on, taking care not to run into any of the rougher-trafficked lanes. She technically could have been escorted, and that might have made being in a speeder easier, but Padmé had wanted the freedom. And besides, she was grateful for that now.

Only just as the Senate Building came into view, Padmé’s speeder blinked a light to warn her that its fuel was running out.

She murmured a soft curse at the alert. She should have probably checked before taking this speeder out to begin with. She looked up to the Senate Building and then back to the little alert. She probably had just enough fuel to get her to the Senate, but then—

Padmé sighed. She felt Obi-Wan stir at her side, and she stilled, hoping that the man didn’t sense any of her own annoyance at the speeder. So she steered her speeder all the way to the platform of the Senate Building, her mind already running with possibilities of exactly who to notify about the empty fuel tank when she saw a familiar flash of blue from the distance.

“Duchess,” Padmé said, lifting her head, careful to still not wake Obi-Wan.

“Senator,” Satine said, stopping short in front of the speeder. If the guards behind Satine or the duchess herself found something strange about the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi was sleeping on Padmé’s shoulder, they didn’t show it. Well—the guards didn’t show it. Padmé didn’t miss the way Satine’s eyes softened at the sight of Obi-Wan, nor did Padmé miss the slight flicker of concern across the duchess’ face. “Did something—”

“He’s fine,” Padmé said quickly. “Just tired. He fell asleep.” She gave Satine an embarrassed smile. “I meant to return him to the Temple, but it seems my speeder’s not quite up for the challenge.” She gave her speeder a rueful pat on the controls before asking, “Would you mind…”

“Of course not,” Satine said. “I was just about to go for a drive around the city, anyways.”

“Wonderful,” Padmé said, relieved. She started to rise from the speeder, but this time, Obi-Wan awoke, his eyes prying open fully.

A few awkward moments passed before Obi-Wan asked, “What happened?”

“You fell asleep,” Padmé said simply. “You were with Cody, and I offered to take you to the Temple, only my speeder…” She grimaced and turned to Satine. “Luckily, Duchess Satine was willing to help.”

Obi-Wan only blinked a few times, still clearly trying to escape the throes of a deep sleep. “I wouldn’t want to trouble anyone,” he said, swiping a hand over his eyes. “Really, I’m…” He started to get out of the speeder, but not before his foot got caught on something. Padmé pulled him back before he could fall on his face.

“Yes, of course, Master Jedi,” Padmé said, ignoring the wounded look Obi-Wan threw her way. “Duchess?”

“Of course,” Satine said, and she stepped forward, extending a hand towards Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked down at Satine’s hand warily and then, taking it, he stepped out of the speeder. Padmé didn’t miss the slight flush creeping up Obi-Wan’s cheeks, nor did she miss the identical shade of pink creeping up Satine’s own face. Padmé happily decided that perhaps the speeder running out of fuel was a good thing instead.

“Good night, Duchess, Master Kenobi!” Padmé called.

Satine only tossed Padmé a smile over her shoulder, and then Padmé watched Obi-Wan and Satine start for their own speeder. Satisfied, Padmé hopped down from her speeder and decided to make a call about refilling the fuel tank.

In the meantime, Satine guided Obi-Wan to the speeder, and the two settled in the backseat as the guards settled in the front. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke, not as the speeder rumbled to life. Satine kept her eyes ahead, focusing instead on the glint of the skyscrapers against the setting sun. As the speeder picked up into the air, a warm breeze swept over them.

And then they were off, taking for the Jedi Temple on the other side of the city. Satine let her gaze drift from the skyscrapers to the lines of speeders below her, and then to the sun setting over the horizon. She was all too aware of Obi-Wan’s warmth beside her, the calm of his presence.

Still—Satine needed to be still, even though a part of her was overwhelmingly relieved that he had returned. A senseless war: that was what had somehow tied their paths together again, and Satine wished that the circumstances were different, but at the same time—

She would be returning to Mandalore in a while yet, and she supposed she was grateful for the time they had still.

And suddenly, Satine felt a weight settle on her shoulder.

Satine didn’t dare look down at Obi-Wan as he shifted against her, a soft sigh leaving his lips. Satine only kept her eyes straight ahead, daring her guards to say anything. But they didn’t react, didn’t so much as blink as Obi-Wan turned his face into Satine’s shoulder, his forehead bumping against the base of Satine’s neck.

Satine was selfishly glad that the speeder ride was smooth. A part of her knew that she should probably wake Obi-Wan, probably gently direct him away, but—

Well, that selfish part of her remained.

And only when the speeder landed in front of the Temple did Satine bring herself to stir. She was sorry for it, but then she heard—

“Master Kenobi?”

Satine looked up to find a young girl standing up from the Temple steps, her brows furrowing. The girl looked from Obi-Wan to Satine, her brows furrowing even more, but she ducked her head into a quick bow. “Duchess Kryze.”

Ahsoka Tano, Satine remembered. She had seen the girl only a few times, mostly accompanying Anakin Skywalker. She couldn’t have been much older than fourteen, fifteen, but she was yet another one of the children involved in the war. But she was a friend of Obi-Wan’s—that much, Satine also knew.

“Good evening,” Satine said, bowing her head. She gestured to Obi-Wan. “Would you know where his quarters are? I was only helping him get to the Temple.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka said, the girl’s lips twitching into a smile. “Is he…” She nodded at Obi-Wan, whose head was starting to slip from Satine’s shoulder.

“He was only sleeping,” Satine replied, gently bringing Obi-Wan’s head up to keep him from slipping entirely. “Nothing more than that.”

“Master Kenobi, sleeping?” Ahsoka asked, eyes widening. Then, quieter, “That’s a first.”

Satine decided that she liked this girl. She smiled, and Ahsoka smiled back.

“Don’t worry, Duchess,” she said. “I’ll make sure he gets his way around.”

“Thank you,” Satine replied, as the guard opened the speeder door. And with careful hands, Satine guided Obi-Wan over to Ahsoka. For one so small, the girl surprisingly kept both Obi-Wan and herself steady, even as she stepped themselves away from the speeder.

“I’m Ahsoka, by the way,” the girl said. “Ahsoka Tano.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ahsoka Tano,” Satine replied. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Duchess,” Ahsoka said cheerfully. And then she waved as the speeder started up, and Satine waved back until the Temple was out of her line of vision.

And when the speeder had disappeared, Ahsoka, too, turned around. She readjusted her grip around Obi-Wan’s side. She looked over at the man’s face and couldn’t help but laugh to herself. She wished she could take a picture. But she supposed she would just have to settle with memorizing this moment instead, everything from the nearly-darkened sky to the rustle of their clothes to Obi-Wan’s quiet sounds of protest as they walked through the halls.

The cool of air from the Temple rushed over them both, and Obi-Wan shivered slightly beside Ahsoka. She only adjusted his cloak around himself before walking on, nodding casually to some passing younglings. She couldn’t help but smile at their temporary awe and also disbelief at seeing Ahsoka supporting Obi-Wan through the halls. A sight, she was sure.

Ahsoka guided Obi-Wan’s arm over her shoulders for better support as they rounded a corner. Obi-Wan stirred lightly then, mumbling, “’soka—”

“That’s right,” Ahsoka said, rolling her shoulders. “You’re a lot heavier than you look, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan started to shift against Ahsoka, but she only said, “We’re almost to your quarters, though.”

A small sound of disbelief. “When…”

“Just a little while ago,” Ahsoka replied, keeping her voice nonchalant. “Duchess Kryze dropped you off.” She paused, giving her next words only a second of consideration before adding, “You were sleeping on her shoulder.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open at that. “Was…”

“Oh, she didn’t seem to mind,” Ahsoka replied. She saw Obi-Wan’s door in the distance. She patted Obi-Wan’s arm twice in some reassurance as she added, “I think she was actually smiling. I think she’s nice.”

Obi-Wan only mumbled something that Ahsoka couldn’t quite make out—which was impressive, considering she was right under Obi-Wan’s mouth. “Anyways,” Ahsoka continued as they came closer to the door, “I’m glad that you got some sleep, Master. You looked exhausted.” She managed to break her hand away enough to wave open the door.

They ducked into Obi-Wan’s quarters—only it wasn’t empty.

“Is he okay?” Anakin asked, jumping up from the desk. “I got a call from Rex that—”

“He’s just tired,” Ahsoka said, disentangling Obi-Wan’s arm from her shoulder. Obi-Wan swayed a little, but then Anakin was at Obi-Wan’s other side, catching him by the shoulder. “Really tired. I don’t even think he’s actually awake right now.”

Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan, who only blinked wearily up at him.

Anakin smiled. “Well, look at that,” he said, and Obi-Wan sighed, resting his head against Anakin’s shoulder.

“I’ve got it from here, Snips,” Anakin said, looking at Ahsoka. “I’ll make sure he actually stays asleep.”

“Sounds good,” Ahsoka said, grinning. Then, whispering, she added, “Good night, Master Kenobi!”

And then she was gone, the door sliding shut behind her.

So Anakin settled both Obi-Wan and himself on the bed. Careful not to let Obi-Wan slide forward, Anakin slipped off Obi-Wan’s boots, unfastened the armor. All the while, Obi-Wan remained asleep, only mumbling only the occasional complaint.

Anakin only smiled to himself, setting the boots and the armor down on the ground. “Look at that,” he repeated. “You can sleep.”

“I can hear you,” Obi-Wan mumbled against Anakin’s shoulder.

Anakin settled an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I was counting on it,” he said quietly. He gave Obi-Wan’s shoulder a quick squeeze, and then he slid away, guiding Obi-Wan’s head back to an actual pillow. He heard a sigh, and then Anakin brought the blankets over his former master, letting it settle right over Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

Obi-Wan’s eyes opened just a little, the deep grey-blue shining up at Anakin in the otherwise dim room. “I should finish the reports,” he only mumbled.

“Don’t even think about it,” Anakin said, settling down on the floor next to Obi-Wan’s bed. He rested his head back against the mattress. “Just go to sleep, Obi-Wan.”

--

Obi-Wan slept.

[bangtan-madi]

Year of the Rabbit — Six: Flower

Pairing — Jungkook x Reader, Hoseok x Yoongi, Taehyung x Jimin

Tags — best friend!Jungkook, non-idol au, flower shop au, gym au, florist!MC, gym owner!Jungkook, brother!Namjoon, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 2k

Summary — Blame it on the storm or the secret feelings or the snow-in, but one thing is for sure: a lot can happen to two best friends when they're confined to their stores overnight.

Warnings — language

Part — 6 / 7

Previous — Next

After the fireworks trickle off in numbers, you and Jungkook still remain cuddled under the blanket. The darkness and chill tempt you to stay this way forever. His arms wrapped around your center, your back pressed against his chest, his chin on your shoulder: it's given you an immense sense of comfort. All this, despite the smoke and exhaustion rolling over you.

Eventually, Jungkook pulls himself away from you, putting a little bit of space between you. Knowing what he's going to suggest before he opens his mouth, you let your eyes close and enjoy the last seconds of his closeness.

"It's gotta be after midnight," he whispers. "The fireworks have stopped. I still don't think it's safe to go home yet. Even though the storm has stopped, the snow is over a foot at least."

You give a non-committal noise, just enough to let him know you heard him.

The man behind you rubs the tops of your arms over the blanket still wrapped around you. "You're falling asleep, Flower. Maybe we should get you to sleep."

"Where the hell am I going to sleep in that supermarket?" you chuckle, finally opening your eyes as you turn on your heel to face him. "Or maybe we can freeze in the shop."

Jungkook rolls his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "For once, can you just...not fight me? Too much to ask?"

You give a single, firm nod. "Yep!"

"Well...too bad."

"Not gonna ha—Hey! What are you doing?"

Instead of standing there and arguing, Jungkook sweeps an arm under your knees, placing the other behind you. Knocking you off your feet, you settle easily into his arms, and he slides you around so that you're slumped against his back. An arm under each of your thighs, yours instinctively circle his neck.

"I'm tired, and I'm even more tired of fighting you," he huffs, already trudging towards the attic door. "Even if I have to tie you up, we're going to sleep. Got it?"

You snicker at his hyperbole and rest your cheek against his mid-back. "Kinky."

"Really?"

"Yes. And did you seriously call me 'Flower' just a minute ago?"

Jungkook's shoulders shrug under your weight, and he's careful to take one step at a time as he descends down the ladder into the supermarket supply closet. "What if I did? Do you not like it?"

Your arms tighten around his neck. As you shake your head, your cheek rubs against the hem of his jacket. "I like it...a lot, actually."

Your best friend doesn't try to hide his amusement as he hikes you up further on his back, fingers gripping your jean-covered thighs. "Add that one to the pet-name collection, then."

Once you're back in the supermarket, Jungkook walks quietly towards the area where you were before. The sofa with propped pillows and throw blankets is a welcome sight, as is the view of the snowy streets through the storefront. He's quick to settle you both down on the cushions, keeping you close to him as he rests you both on your sides.

"We're cold and tired and here overnight," he murmurs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, arms winding around your midsection. "Just get some sleep."

Forcing the butterflies down, you circle your arms around his shoulders and back, cradling him to your chest. Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief, nuzzles further into you, and moments later, he's out like a light.

It takes you a little longer to fall asleep, but the warmth of the night and of the person lying next to you eventually lulls you into dreamland. 

You dream of the feelings you won't say.

When you awaken a few hours later, the first light of daybreak is slowly starting to stream across the horizon, through the buildings, and onto your face. Eyes narrowed at the minimal light, you stir and hide your face in the fluffy thing nearest your face. A blanket, a pillow, who knows. Groaning to yourself, you move your arms, anticipating Jungkook to be next to you. The space is empty, and it prompts you to peek one eye open.

Jungkook isn't anywhere to be seen. Not on the sofa next to you, nor on the sitting area where you ate dinner. Looking over your shoulder, you don't see him anywhere in the near vicinity.

As you pull yourself up into a seated position, your phone illuminates. Your gaze flickers to it, and you see your partners' names on his new messages. Out of curiosity, you pick up the device. A sense of relief floods through you; your connection must have been restored while you were sleeping.

But when you read the messages on the screen, it's clear that this phone is not yours. It's Jungkook's. However, you were not mistaken on the identities of the messengers; Yoongi and Hoseok's names are as clear as day.

The latter's reply is connected to a message Jungkook sent about an hour ago, that much you can tell even from the home screen. His original message reads, "If I tell [Y/n], if I'm honest, I'll lose my best friend. For sure. One-hundred percent. Every conversation I play over in my head, they always end the same damn way. I lose her."

Hoseok's reply is simple. "You can't let that stop you, Jungkook-ah. You deserve to be happy. It may take time, but she will come around."

Yoongi agrees, "It may surprise her, but I guarantee you won't lose your best friend. Things will change, but it's bound to happen eventually."

A thousand thoughts and emotions flicker across your mind as you reread those words. Despite having little context, your heart hurts at the sentiment in your best friend's concern. I'll lose my best friend. For sure. One-hundred percent. What could be so horrible about this person that he's in love with that it would cause him to lose you? What about them would make your long friendship come to an end? What could possibly come above the love and connection and history you have together?

As the minute ticks by, and the sunlight pours over the buildings with greater strength, your heartbeat quickens and your palms sweat. The ball of nerves in your stomach grows deeper and darker with each moment, and you feel as if you might be sick. Jungkook has been your longest companion; he's the one true thing that you've always relied on. Never in a million years did you think any event, any argument, or any lover could come between you and him.

But could you be wrong about that? Have you overestimated the love you have for each other? Surely he knows how much you do...even if you have kept the nature of that shifting love a secret.

Was that also a mistake?

Jungkook appears from the storage closet, in his grasp are several breakfast bars and bottled cold brew. He smiles brightly at you, but as he sees your expression, it falls away. "Hey, are you okay? I brought breakfast..."

Clearing your throat, you avert your eyes and push his phone off your lap. "I saw a couple of texts by accident, sorry."

"From who?"

"Yoongi and Hoseok."

Your best friend visibly swallows, then sets down the breakfast goodies on the end of the sofa. You gnaw on your lower lip with anxiety, and he takes a cross-armed position in front of you.

"I didn't mean to," you defend softly. "I had just woken up, saw the names, thought it was my phone. Didn't read any but the new ones." As he remains silent, you turn your gaze upwards, gathering the courage to ask once again. However, this time the question feels heavier. "Who is she?"

Jungkook is hesitant to show any form of emotion, give anything away, on his face. "She?"

"The girl you love. Or is it not a girl...is that why you're so standoff-ish? Is that why you're so certain you'll lose me?"

He lets out a soft, breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "No, that's not it."

"Then who is she? Who is she that she will come between us and end our friendship?" Jungkook begins to look visibly uncomfortable; he's running a hand through his wavy hair, clenching his jaw, shuffling where he stands as if he wants to run. "I—I'm not trying to give you an ultimatum, Bunny. I'd never do that, ask you to choose between me and someone else, but we've been friends for so fucking long. To throw all that away...what are you so scared of?"

He closes his eyes, heaving a sound of frustration. "It's not like that. It's not what you think. You only read a couple texts, out of context. That's not the entire conversation."

You perch up on your knees, giving yourself a bit more height on the sofa, and reach for his hand. "Then explain it to me, Kookie." Your fingers graze his, barely touching tip to tip. "Don't leave me in the dark."

After a moment of silence, Jungkook pulls his hand back. "Nothing's going to change, [Y/n]. You gotta trust me on this."

The pit of anxiety in your stomach begins to grow at his hollow words. "But you told Yoongi and Ho—"

"—That every conversation ends with me losing my best friend?" he finishes, and you nod once. Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. "That's because once you know...you're going to feel differently about me. And I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"You know me better than that," you assure, voice strengthening with resolve. "I'm not going to cut you off because of who you love."

"You don't know that."

You attempt to keep your expression and tone calm and tender, but his concern is sharp and deep, going to the foundation of your care. "I do! What kind of friend do you take me for?"

Jungkook's brown eyes meet yours, and his gaze shifts back and forth between them, as if trying to find any fault with your truth. You don't waiver; you hold his line of sight until he breaks it, looking past you, towards the snow piled up outside.

"Okay," he breathes, voice barely a whisper, barely held together in its shakiness. He scoops up his cellphone. "Fine. You want me to call her? I will."

Taken back by his words, you blink in surprise as he quickly dials a number by memory. Your chest tightens with guilt, and you start to say, "Kookie, you don't have to—"

"—No, I want to. You...You deserve to know. It's been a long time coming, and I—I need to get this off my chest." His fingers hover over the dial button. “Might change things...Aish, who cares. Here goes nothing."

The moment he selects the number and raises the device to his ear, the device in your pocket begins to vibrate. Jungkook's signature ringtone gets louder as the seconds pass; a lofi version of "Yellow" begins to play. For the first few seconds, you stare blankly at the boy in front of you. His chocolate eyes flicker back and forth between yours, waiting with bated breath for your reaction. In those moments, an inhale turns into a shaky exhale.

And then it clicks into place.

You fish your phone from your pocket as quickly as you can, only having to glance at the screen for half a second to see Jungkook's name flashing against the white background.

Taglist — @kooala​