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melinoelliones · 1 year

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After Hours | Meliodas X Fem Reader

You had just stumbled into the Boar Hat after hours, but I bet the bartender can fix you up a little something.

2.5K Words

MINORS DNI/AGELESS BLOGS DNI/ANTI DC DNI/18+

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, spanking, filling up, masterbation, slight breath play, tears, praise

HI HI! Back with the smut hehe, sorry this was SUPER LATE. I hope the Meliodas lovers enjoy mwah mwah. I just wanna note that...

1. This is selfshippy, reader is a princess of Liones (not Elizabeth). Not beta read.

2. I tried to make sure it was similar to canon Meliodas but I think I may have slipped up a bit. I read it over in his voice so it’s not like SUPER off. We may interpret him differently.

3. I am a NEW WRITER so this may be written weird I APOLOGISE!!

SO ANYWAYS..... have fun

“SORRY GUYS THE BOAR HATS CLOSED, COME BACK TOMORROW”, a familiar voice called out from the bar, their back facing you as they continued polishing glasses.

You had just made your way over from your father, King Batra’s party he had thrown for the Sins as a thank you for another successful mission to protect Liones. Usually you’d just stay home in the palace with your sisters and the others or atleast until it was over, however Meliodas had decided to keep the Boar Hat open and stay there, so you thought, why not surprise him and keep him company?

You sneakily strolled through the tavern, taking a seat at the bar without a word. “I said the Boar Hat is clos~ ah well hello there beautiful” Meliodas gave you a smug grin, peering behind to see you sat across from him.

“Space for one more?” you pouted, your puppy dog eyes were almost impossible for him to resist, “bars closed im afraid….. But I'm sure I can fix you up something real quick”, he caved, flashing you a quick wink before turning back to the alcohol.

Meliodas may have been a terrible cook, horrendous cook even but he could make a killer drink with absolutely anything, he also knew your taste palette particularly well and had yet to fail at coming up with a concoction you’d enjoy. And who could turn down a free drink?

You watched as the captain shook up up a drink for you, showing off along the way with a few bottle flips and tricks, “like what you see?” he joked as you rolled your eyes, attempting to hide your laughter. He was quite the show off sometimes but you adored every last second of it every time.

Placing a single kiss on the rim of the glass, the barkeep slid the dark coloured beverage in front of you. As you took a sip from the spot he kissed you hummed in glee, “oooo it's actually really good, maybe the best one so far”.

“Aye, what kind of barkeep would I be if I couldn’t make my girl the perfect drink huh?” he shrugged, making his way out the bar over to the stools you were sat at.

As you continued to down your glass Meliodas quizzed you on your antics prior to coming over, you answered blindly, blissfully unaware that the man was now directly behind you, your back flush against his chest.

“I did miss you though, there was no chance that I’d stay in the palace till the end when I could come see you” you smiled sweetly to yourself, swirling the left over ice cubes.

“Is that right, what did you miss about me hmm?” he mumbled against your neck, a wave of chills rushing through your body as you realised how close the guy now was to you. A pair of hands roamed freely across your chest, your tight fitted shirt making it easy for them to feel up every inch of it.

“I m~missed your erm jokes”

“Mmhmm what else?” he questioned, slithering one hand down from your chest to your lower stomach, lifting up your skirt in the process. Before you could muster up a response Meliodas ran his fingers along your slit before creating small circles on your clit, the friction from your underwear across it making you yearn for more.

“Hey hey, I asked you a question didn’t I? What else did you miss about me tonight?” he teased, increasing the pressure on your sensitive clit as you cursed beneath your breath.

As you pondered for a second, Meliodas inched your newly damp underwear to the side, sliding your lips apart to reveal how wet you already were. “Well would you look at that” he smirked, using your own precum to ease two fingers into you, “you’re already drenched for me, I haven’t even started yet”.

You yelped softly as he re-asked you the question that had completely slipped your mind, “Go on princess, you missed…..?”.

” I~er missed your umm company?” you winced, lost for answers as he pushed his digits knuckles deep into your soaking cunt before curling them to find the sensitive patch. Your body naturally twitched as he found it, letting him know exactly what to pay attention to.

You melt into his touch, hips rocking into his fingers as he sped up, his palm pressing against your semi-swollen bud adding to the pleasure.

The guy allowed his free hand to make work of your neglected breasts, skimming it under your form-fitted shirt as he kneaded your already hard nipples between his fingers, “Is that right? Did you miss this too? Me feeling you up?”.

You could feel the blood rushing to your lower stomach as he focused on the growing spot inside of you, your hips rolling into his fingers, your moans soft but sloppy due to the overload of stimulation, “Meliodas p~please I-”

“I know I know” he smirked, trailing a few small kisses on the nape of your neck.

“Hold your breath for me okay?”

Doing as told you took in a small breath, the barman deepened the curls of his fingers whilst the other hand twisted your nipples as you squirmed. You clung to your seat, the sound of him sliding in and out of you like music to his ears, “And out” he commanded.

The heat in your stomach was at its peak, you tried to steady your breathing as you could feel yourself reaching the end, “could ya hold your breath again love”.

Taking in another breath you threw your head back against his chest “now cum for me, right here on this stool” he urged, scissoring his digits deeper inside you, his palm swiping against your clit harshly, your muffled whimpers and whines keeping him going.

Your body twisted and turned in the stool as you came, coating his fingers completely as your thighs squeezed together around the guy's hand, yet he kept his pace allowing you to long out every second of your peak. Your chest tightened slightly as you remembered you were holding your breath, “You can breathe now my love” Meliodas chuckled.

Your breathless body fell back against him whilst you caught your breath, his warmth calming you down as he slid out his fingers, “well would you look at that, you did so well. Why dontcha clean these off for me too?” he asked, you could almost hear the smirk on his face as he showed you his fingers, they were almost dripping in your release.

In between breaths you rolled out your tongue, allowing him to slip them into your mouth, “that’s it” he cooed watching you suck yourself off them, your tongue weaving along them taking it all in before he pulled them away. He wanted to be the first to taste your sweet juices but you just looked too perfect with his fingers in your mouth.

You guys stayed as you were for what felt like a few minutes whilst you cooled off, he gave you nothing but sweet kisses before helping you off the bar stool. The alcohol conveniently started to take effect as you hit the ground, your cheeks burning up as you bent yourself over one of the tables in front of you.

Meliodas crept up behind you as you left your exposed ass in the air, your underwear completely doused and on display. You felt his clothed lower half meet yours, his needy cock poking through the layers of fabric separating you both.

Trailing a hand up your trembling thigh he sniggered, “so was that all you missed? Or did you miss my cock in that pretty little cunt of yours hmm?”.

You nodded, grinding back on it as he groaned, he needed to be in you so bad, fucking you sensless over this table, but he had to hold out. “I need you to say it, tell me what the princess wants” he huffed, feeling himself growing against your soiled underwear which was now seeping through his own pants.

“P~Please Meli I need you, please fuck me”

“That's what I like to hear, such a needy princess” he cooed, taking in the sopping sight before him as he slipped your panties down to your ankles. “I’ll fill you up real good okay?” he reassured you whilst sliding down the band of his trousers, you watched as he freed his throbbing cock, biting your lip as you knew what was coming.

He may have been a small guy height wise but he wasn’t lacking in that area by any means, the girth alone always took you by surprise, wondering how your body always managed to accommodate such a thing.

Planting a firm hand on your hip he eased you back, gliding his cock along your slick folds before sliding the tip in. “F~fuck” was all he managed to get out as you inhaled sharply, clawing at the wooden table beneath you, the sheer size of him pushing out all the breath from your body.

“Cmon, you can take it” he assured you, pulling you back onto him, planting himself fully inside you, your walls slowly trying to adjust to it.

“Y~You’re so fucking tight, and so warm” he trembled as you conformed to his size.

You felt the barmans calloused hand travel up the curve of your back to your neck, then across to your jawline. With a slight tug he pulled your head, your needy eyes meeting his as your back arched completely. He placed a single peck on your forgotten lips before helping you back onto the table, “You’re doing so good for me”.

Setting his hands back onto your bare hips he pulled out almost completely before shoving himself back in, making sure to bottom out inside, “s~so big” was all you managed to choke out as he hit your sensitive spot with pure force.

He continued to drive himself in and out of your cunt, each motion being more intense than the last, making sure to hit your sweet spot every time. He knew you both wouldn’t last very long but he was determined to make the most of what y'all had. Hearing your little squeals each time he crashed into you making him crave your words.

“I wanna hear your voice, I need to hear how good I make you feel” Meliodas panted continuing his strides, his balls swiping your swollen bud with each one, he wanted nothing more than for your moans to ring though the empty tavern.

“Oh fuck, FUCK baby please, don’t stop” you desperately cried out as he spanked you, it was almost as if that brought your voice back. The sting adding to the intense wave of pain and pleasure swirling around inside your body, he felt so good but it hurt so bad.

“That's what I wanna hear, cmon now, I wonder how the King would feel knowing that his daughter likes to be fucked like a common whore over a bar table by a little ole Bartender”

“Oh, did you like that? You like being called a whore while I fuck you like this, how unladylike” he grinned as he felt you close around him, so much so that he let out his own moan followed by a few curses.

As you attempted to lift yourself off the table you caught a glimpse of your reflections in the fogged up window, a familiar dark purple mark drawing in your full attention. The man fucking you was no longer your sweet little barkeep, this was the Demon King's first son in all his glory.

You now understood why he was being so vulgar and rough, it's not as if you didn’t love this but you were surprised that your neediness would result in him letting his demon side show.

“See what you do to me? I can’t even keep myself in human form” he sighed jokingly spanking you a second time, watching as a dark red hand mark slowly pulled itself to the surface of your ass whilst you let out all types of profanities.

You could feel you were at your limit, the scales were at a tipping point and you knew it would spill over any second.

“Meli, I’m s~so close”, you choked out between strokes, your walls closing in on his piece as your body gave in.

“Go on, cum on this cock”

That was all the motivation you needed to hear, you felt Meliodas grab one side of the table as you came, your walls tightening causing a temporary halt to his movements, “that's it, paint my cock white”.

Meliodas longed out his thrusts to allow you to enjoy your orgasm, your pussy creaming around him coating his shaft completely.

Before you had time to catch your breath Meliodas plunged into your sensitive core, your knees buckling ever so slightly trying to regain some strength, “cmon you can hold out for me”.

Tears trickled down your heated cheeks as the guy rutted into you mercilessly, all thoughts and words vanishing with each thrust leaving you a whining mess. “You’re doing so good, so fucking good” he grunted, giving you all the praise you deserved.

Only you could treat him like this, the only one who ever made him feel this good, he was in a trance when in you.

His cock twitched inside of you as his grunts filled out the room, he was almost at his breaking point and you knew it. “I c~can’t Meliod-”, “uh uh uh, yes you can”, he hushed you, knowing your tired body would give way at some point.

After a few more clashes with your sweet spot he came, smearing your sore walls with his seed as you constricted around him once again, milking his cock clean into your aching cunt.

The warm liquid was being plugged in by him before he lazily pulled out, “you took everything out of me, good girl”.

You panted as you felt both of your releases ooze out and down your inner thigh, Meli just stood back enjoying watching your body naturally push it out while fixing his pants.

“F~Fuck you look so hot like that, maybe I should fill you up more often. Could be a bit risky though” he joked, using his forefingers to push it back into you.

Meliodas slipped you into his arms from the table, not letting you use any of the little energy you had left in you to move, leaving your underwear at the table's base.

He watched as your tear stained cheeks hit his chest, your eyes struggling to stay open, but you did manage to notice that he was back to his regular self.

“S~Sorry about the mess” you yawned, knowing that everyone would be arriving back to the Boar Hat soon, “Don’t worry about that, let's just get you to bed”, he whispered, planting a simple kiss on your forehead.

His only priority was you, and he knew as long as you were taken care of, everything was fine. He couldn’t care less about the others, so much so that he had failed to mention to you that he may or may not have seen a few sin shaped shadows on the other side of the tavern door moments before you came. But that story would be for another day.

#sds meliodas #nnt meliodas #meliodas #meliodas x reader #meliodas smut #nanatsu no taizai #nanatsu no taizai smut #Seven Deadly Sins #seven deadly sins smut #seven deadly sins x reader #nanatsu no taizai x reader #sds smut #sds x reader #sds meliodas smut #nnt smut #meli noel work's

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mustainegf · 1 month

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Can yoh do a dave fluff where dave has wronged you some way and both of yall are like teens. He's in grade 12 and your in grade 11 so like 17 and 16. And dave never comes to prom but when u were there you spot him outta the corny of your eye and he's sad/crying holding a bouquet of flowers hoping for forgiveness.and when u go up to him and forgiv you just dance and hold eachother. While he's just all "I missed you I'm sorry" ect

THIS IS SO CUTE I love dave so much so I spent a lot of time on this one

Wrote this listening to nutshell—Alice in chains cuz it felt fitting

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 ¹⁹⁷⁸

The end of the school year was always this sort of meld of excitement for the summer break, nostalgia for the last few months, and a bit of sadness knowing that it was all ending. This year though, it was different. With the upcoming prom looming in the Future, the thought of saying goodbye to friends… particularly Dave, because he would be graduating had me feeling very off balance. This should have been a time for celebration, but somehow the wave length between us had shifted, and I wasn't exactly sure how to fix it.

Dave and I had been inseparable since middle school. The best friend who was always there to make me laugh, to understand my weird sense of humor, and who knew all my secrets. We were different in lots of ways, he was so loud and confident, the guy everybody wanted to know, and I was quieter, more comfortable in the shadows, but with him, I always felt seen.

But lately, something had changed. I wasn't even sure when it began. Perhaps it was back during one of those late night hangouts that got more complicated every year, or maybe it was just the way life makes its own way as you grow up. Whatever it was, it had forged a gulf between us.

The last time we spoke, really spoke, was weeks ago. I had asked him about prom, half teasingly asking him who he would ask. He just shrugged off, saying he wasn't going.

I hadn't been surprised at that, prom didn't seem like his scene. What had surprised me was the way he'd brushed me off, like he couldn't even really be bothered to talk about it. And when I kept pushing, trying to get him to open up, he snapped. He told me to back off, that I should stop acting like I knew what was good for him.

His words stung more than I really wanted to admit. I snapped back, telling him that maybe I didn't know what was best for him, but at least I cared.

That was the last time we spoke. Since then, he'd been avoiding me, and I was too stubborn, maybe too hurt, to reach out.

So, prom night came, still not a sound from him. Perhaps foolishly, I had held onto the hope that he'd at least call or toss a rock at my bedroom window late at night like he always did. But it was all nothing.

I wasn't completely convinced that I even wanted to go to prom after the whole thing with Dave, but my friends were really pressuring me. They bugged me about it, saying I should go, to stop moping around, that it was going to be fun. So, I let them drag me along, dressed in the pale blue gown my mom had insisted on buying, with my hair done up in curls that felt too formal, too unlike me.

The gym looked unrecognizable, twinkling lights falling from the ceiling in threads, a dance floor made hastily, shimmering tables draped in white cloths, roses and candles bunched together in the middle of each one.

Everybody looked great, having dressed up and wearing a wonderfully exciting glow on their faces. However, it just didn’t feel complete, no matter how much laughter and music filled the air.

Deep down I longed for his familiar sleep of leather and cigarettes, that hint of coffee. To see his fiery curls bounce as he laughed at something immature.

I danced for the first hour, trying to have some fun. My friends dragged me onto the dance floor, I wore a smile, although it wasn’t really from my heart. I'd keep looking around, scanning the room, although I knew very well that Dave wouldn't show up. He had said so himself, and I had taken him at his word. Still, I couldn't help looking, hoping.

The night was slipping away, so I began the fight to slip away for some air. I managed to fight my way free to the edge of the room, the shadows deeper, the music less loud. That was when I saw him.

Dave was by the door, almost merged with the shadows, awkwardly clutching a bouquet of flowers. He stood there, completely out of place in his handsome black suit, with nearly lost eyes, looking soft now when his usual attitude of rebellion was replaced.

His hair was a bit disheveled, as though he had run his hands through it in a state of nervousness, and his eyes… his hazel eyes were reddened, like he had been crying.

I stared for a moment, hesitation in my mind about whether or not this was him. Then our eyes met, and his sadness almost took my breath like a blow in the chest. He was here. He really was here, and he looked so broken.

I approached him step by step, without thinking further. Each step seemed like a year, and his eyes never left mine.

Up close, I could see the stress in his jaw and the way his hands were shaking with the flowers. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't really find any words.

Finally, he whispered, "I'm sorry.”

Two words, only two, yet they carried the weight of all that had preceded them. I wanted to cry, but I blinked away the hot sting.

"Dave…" My voice broke, and it took a swallow before I could continue. "What are you doing here?"

His shoulders slumped as the weight of the world finally came to rest upon them. "I told myself I wouldn't but… I had to see you."

I looked down at a bouquet in his hands. A messy mixture of flowers, which didn't really agree with each other but somehow made sense in his palm. They were beautiful in one way, wild and untamed, just like him.

"Are these for me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice still and vigilant.

Nodding, he gazed down at the floor. "I was gonna take 'em to your place. I know it sounds stupid, but… I guess I was hopin' you might forgive me. For being a dick."

This was what I had always seen in Dave, the duality of nature, who could be so strong and fierce, yet very soft and so unsure of himself, who cared but didn’t for the life of him know how to show it.

"Why not just talk to me?" I whispered faintly.

He lifted his face then, and the raw emotion swimming in his eyes nearly undid me. "I don't know. I thought… you were better off without my ass."

"Dave," I said, stepping close, close enough to feel the warmth of his body through his suit. "You're my best friend. You could never drag me down. I've missed you so much. And I love you."

He drew in a breath, his shaking hand holding out the flowers. "I don't really deserve your forgiveness, but I'm asking for it anyway. Because I love you too…”

The earnestness in his voice, the way his eyes shone with tears he repeatedly blinked away, broke through the last of my defenses. I took the bouquet from his hands, my fingers brushed against his.

"I forgive you," I said, meaning every word. "I just want things to be okay between us again. I've missed you so much, Dave."

HIs breath caught, and suddenly he was tugging me into his arms, squeezing me tight. It was the first time he’d ever hugged me.

I wound my arms tight around him, pressing my face into his chest, inhaling the scent of him. Faint leather, and the usual faint musk of cigarettes was replaced with cologne.

"I missed you too," he whispered against my hair.

Finally, he pulled back far enough to see me. His eyes were still red, but the depression in them had been mellowed and replaced by something warmer, something that made my heart skip a beat.

"Will you dance with me?" he whispered, he was afraid of breaking the spell.

I nodded, feeling that I couldn't trust my voice. He took my hand and led me off to the edge of the dance floor, where it was dark and the music wasn't so loud. He took me in his arms and something about this felt right, being this intimate.

As we began to dance, he held me, his hands firm on my hips. I laid my head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. It was all so familiar, despite it being my first time hearing it.

"I was afraid of losing you," he admitted. "Afraid I'd already lost you. That's why I thought if I pushed away, it wouldn't hurt as bad that way.”

I grabbed him harder, feeling my heart break for the amount of pain he'd been lugging around. "You never lost me, and you never will."

He breathed shakily as he continued. "You’re the best thing in my life, and I’ve been a prick.”

"Yeah," I teased, looking up through my lashes at him, with a little smile. "You kind of have been."

He chuckled, the movement rumbling in his chest. "I deserve that.”

"But I'm glad you're here now," I added. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

“Never.”

#mustainegf #fanfic #reqs open #fanfiction #request #metallica #megadeth x reader #megadeth smut #megadeth imagines #megadeth fanfiction #megadeth #dave mustaine fanfiction #dave mustaine fluff #dave mustaine x you #dave mustaine x oc #dave mustaine x reader #dave mustaine fic #dave mustaine imagines #dave mustaine

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sheluvv-gambino · 1 year

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“Huh, you sound British.”

pairings : e-42 miles morales x black fem!reader

summary : Being a new student is already hard, just imagine being British in high school within Brooklyn.

warnings : I put a slash between the difference of American and British words so no one is confused since I’m not actually American myself.

part 2

Switching from an English secondary school to an American high school was not something that you could say you were actually excited for.

But yet here you are sitting in your mothers car listening to ‘Bonfire’ by Childish Gambino, trying not stress over being in a totally new environment.

“Okay, we’ve arrived.” Your mum/mom said rubbing the back of your shoulder.

“I’m gonna go now, I love you.” You sigh.

“I love you too but get your arse out this car so your not late please!”

You laugh whilst unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car walking towards the entrance.

Once you enter your immediately overwhelmed with the amount of loud new accents filtering the air. I mean sure you had been in New York for a few days before being introduced to the school but that doesn’t mean you were used to the variety of accents.

Making your way towards the principals office you ended up lost and having to scout the help of one your new peers.

Looking to your left you spot a fairly handsome guy with two cainrows/cornrows going down his neck, sharp jaw, and very plumed lips.

Damn, guess NYC ain’t that bad after all.

Tapping his shoulder you timidly ask “Sorry to disturb you but do you think your could show me to the principals office.”

He looked you up and down for a good thirty seconds before his focus finally set on your face.

“Huh, you sound British.”

“I mean I am from London.” You deadpan.

“Sure I’ll take you, c’mon.”

He takes off swiftly leaving you trailing behind him.

Once you finally reach the principals office

he stops and looks you dead in the eye tilting his head which ultimately makes you cast your gaze down to the floor.

“I’m Miles but I never caught your name.”

You look up and end up locking eyes.

“I’m Y/N” You smile downward.

“We’ll Y/N ion know much about British people but I hope we can get to know each other a bit more…”

And with that he walked away leaving you at the door of the principal.

Now all you have to is KNOCK.

————————

Getting halfway through the day was particularly easy except from the bombardment of questions from people you don’t even know.

Asking things about Britain like you were the Queen (R.I.P Queen Lizzy) It was like they had never heard of Google before.

Fortunately a group of girls adopted you into their circle and you were currently sitting with them at lunch.

“So how’s your day been except y’know all the weird questions?” One girl asks with a chuckle.

“We’ll it’s been a bit annoying relearning the stuff I’ve already done which by the way don’t you think it’s a bit weird that you guys do algebra for like a whole year. In England once we finish a topic we move onto the next.” You ramble with a sigh.

“Eh I mean I guess but it’s not anything new for us. Anyways since being here, have you caught your eye on anyone yet?” Another girl answers and questions.

“We’ll there was this one guy but I haven’t spotted him again since he dropped me off at the Principal’s.”

Some girls squeal in excitement at a new potential crush to gossip about.

“He was quite fit actually and he had these two braids going down. He gave a really good conversation on the way their actually.” You finish off going back to your food nonchalantly.

There must be a shift in the air because the table of girls stopped talking until someone pipes up.

“Your not talking ‘bout Miles Morales are you?!” She squeaks with widened eyes.

“We’ll yeah he said his name was Miles but he didn’t give his surname/lastname.”You start to nod.

“No way! Girls have been trying to get with him ever since we got to the school but he’s always cold and quiet around people who aren’t his friends. Girl you are so lucky.” She blurts out.

“We’ll I’m sure he was just being nice, I mean I am new.” You defend.

And with that Miles Morales walks past your table trailing behind his friends he gives a smirk and waves towards you.

Yeah, I guess you are lucky…very lucky!

#across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles g morales #prowler miles #spiderverse

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yourejinx · 1 year

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Undeniable Bonds

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. Not proof read.

word count: 4713.

Author’s note: I’m sorry I’m so late with this. I gave Mor a sibling. And I may have changed some things from the cannon books. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it.

CHAPTER THREE.

“What did you do to him?” Rhys asked mentally, an amused glint on his violet eyes as he looked over to where Azriel and Cassian were training the Valkyries.

“What do you mean?” I raised an eyebrow at him, wiping away the sweat of my forehead and taking a sip from my jar of water.

It had been a while since Rhysand joined me in training. He didn’t have much time these days between being High Lord and a father, and a husband. But lately he’s been under more pressure and needed to blow up some steam.

I dared a look at the Shadowsinger, he was teaching Gwyn some defensive stances, being his brooding self, scowl and all. There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary.

“He’s been more irritable these past weeks.” Rhysand took a step back, adopting a fighting stance once again and flaring his wings. I couldn’t help the smirk from showing on my face, I had made him sweat enough for him to bring out his Illyrian side.

Behind us Cass chuckled and I grinned at him, he winked at me in return. Rhys just threw him an annoyed stare and rolled his shoulders.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, he seems fine. For his usual self, that is.” I shrugged. Brought my fists up and started to circle him slowly.

“No, I could’ve sworn he hissed at Nesta this morning.” His face lit up with wicked delight and he swung for me, aiming for my supposedly exposed left side. The oldest trick in Amren’s book: “Let them come to you girl, let them think you defenseless.”

I caught his upper arm, twisted it and turned him around so that he was facing Cassian now. The Valkyries were looking. He tensed. “But he took one look at you, and decided to shut his mouth? Strange.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve been too busy avoiding him as of late.”

One of his wings flung open and I released his arm to avoid the hit. He flashed a feline smile at me and lifted his right leg, trying to land a kick to my upper thigh.

I jumped out of his range, bracing my weight on his shoulders and landing behind him, quick on my feet. A second later, I dropped down low and sweeped out his legs from under him, throwing him on his royal ass.

He went down with a gasp, arms splayed out and eyes wide.

“I’m a little out of shape, it seems.” He coughed.

“You think?” I grinned down at him, offering a hand to help him stand up.

Somebody whistled and I turned my head to look at Nesta, she was grinning amusedly. “Would you like to join the Valkyries?”

Beside her, Cassian snorted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“And why is that?” She snapped her golden-brown head to Cass. I almost pitied him, I would hate to be on the receiving end of that cold stare.

“That would be a fight of egos. Y/N already leads her own legion of warriors in battle.”

“I could do both”. I replied instantly. Arms crossed and head cocked to the side.

“Yeah? And who would command the Valkyries?” Cassian asked with a knowing look.

I had more experience in battles and a little more than two centuries of training, the answer seemed logical enough. But I replied instead:

“Well, Nesta of course. I wouldn’t dream of taking her spot, we females should support each other.” I winked at her. She smiled. “But maybe when I grow tired of ordering males around.”

Nesta looked satisfied enough, a little bit of mischief dancing in those gray eyes.

I waited for Azriel’s retort about me not being capable of following orders, but it never came. He fixed his stare at me instead, as if contemplating my answer. Weird.

“See, I told you he’s been acting strange.” Rhys purred into my mind.

“Get out of my head.” I scowled at him. He chuckled.

“I think he’s really trying not to snap at you.”

“Not my problem.”

“Maybe you could try to work on a truce?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I already told him I won’t fight him, it’s the same thing.”

“Well, it is easier not to fight him if you’re avoiding him. Why not try and get along instead?”

“Oh yeah, maybe we could hang out and braid each other’s hair too.” I fought the urge to stick my tongue out at the High Lord. He laughed.

“I’m just saying, give it a try. He may be willing too. Solstice is a couple of days ahead, it’ll be a good time for make up and make out”

My reply died in my mouth as I caught a glimpse of auburn hair out of the corner of my eye. Lucien was walking towards us, clad in a pristine dark gray tunic and matching pants, arms crossed behind his back. He looked expectant…. shit, I was supposed to accompany him to the Dawn Court today. My eyes widened and I started to frantically grab my things.

“Oh fuck. I’m sorry Lucien, I totally forgot. Five minutes, I’ll shower and then we can leave.” I said hurrying up the steps to the House and throwing Rhysand a glare. He gave me a lazy smile.

“Just think about it.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Remind me again, why did you have to come?” Lucien asked, an auburn eyebrow going up, russet eye shining in the late sun’s glow like a warm liquid flame on a cold day.

Lucien was a very handsome, very intelligent male. I don’t understand why Elain would avoid him like the plague, he’s very nice and polite, and definitely not hard on the eyes. But then again, she had a not so discrete fixation with my mate. No, that wasn’t right. I had no business letting this stupid forsaken territorial Cauldron-made bond fill me with negative feelings. Azriel wasn’t mine, not in the way that counts.

I shook my head and stopped snooping around the books, putting my best smile on display.

“To escort you of course. We can’t have our emissary run into danger now, can we?”

“So, you’re not just avoiding the Shadow singer?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, but I’d avoid him too if I had anywhere else to go instead of having to sit back and watch him flirt with my mate.”

I walked over to the window, the light pink and orange sky merged with the fluffy clouds so beautifully I wished I could paint it. Must be nice, to just be soft and beautiful and lovable, all the things I would never be. I have been built tough since a very young age, forced to be strong in order to survive, the only soft spot I ever had was ripped from me when I turned sixteen. Never again. Never again I would allow myself to be weak.

“I don’t care about those things.” I mused, the smile had long since slipped off my face.

“Watching your mate openly flirt with another?” he asked tentatively. My head snapped in his direction, not in shock but in warning. I wasn’t sure what he read on my face but he added, “I can see things more clearly than others,” – he pointed to his metal eye – “and we both have been cursed with the same affliction, it is easier to know where to look.”

I thought back to the times I’ve seen Azriel and Elain interact, how gentle and caring he had been with her, how she had blushed and smiled warmly at him. The look of heartache, of longing in Lucien’s face… had I been wearing the same look all this time? I wasn’t even sure I wanted Azriel to look at me like that, I just…it was enough for me if he didn’t hate me.

But the way he stared at me this morning, as if he didn’t know what to make of me, it reminded me of the first time we met…curiosity, that’s what it was.

If there was a tiny possibility of us getting along, maybe I should listen to Rhysand.

But now was not the time to think about that.

I clicked my tongue. “Wasn’t your friend supposed to be here already?”

Lucien sighed and took a seat in front of me, I turned my head back to the clouds.

“She’s running a little late, will be here any second.”

Maybe it was stupid of me to ask it outloud but if someone may understand, if someone may have an answer that would be him.

“Would you forgive her for treating you so poorly?” My eyes found his through the reflection on the window glass.

He knew I meant Elain.

“If she ever asks for it, then yes. If not…then what choice do I have but to forgive in order to move on?”

A small smile played on my lips. “You’re too good, Prince Charming. Couldn’t be me.”

He let out a small sensual laugh. “You’re good too, little raven, more than you give yourself credit for.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late” said a dark haired female bursting through the door. She carried a bag full of the Cauldron-knows-what, it tinkled with every step she took. “I hope you didn’t wait for too long.” She flashed a radiant smile at Lucien, genuine joy dancing in her onyx eyes at the sight of the Autumn male.

“It’s ok, we just got here.” He returned the smile.

I had to bite down my tongue to prevent myself from commenting on it. I leaned closer, peering over Lucien’s shoulder to the artifacts she displayed on the table. There were all sorts of things, medical instruments, prosthetics, cartography tools…this girl was very talented.

“What is this?” I asked, pointing to a small, gleaming golden sphere, intricately carved with what looked to be a diamond at its center, surrounded by three gold rings. Her eyes snapped at me as if she just realized I was in the room as well.

“Nuan, meet Y/N, she works for Rhysand. Y/N this is Nuan.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N.” She shook my hand. “That is – uh– a personal project, that I don’t know how it got here.” She chucked the piece back into the bag.

“Well, what does it do?”

“Nothing, yet. It’s just a prototype, more pretty than useful. It was supposed to be a soul locator, it should be embedded with a location spell and it’ll guide you to your loved one wherever they are, or anyone whose essence is entwined with the stone.”

“Brilliant.” I murmured under my breath but they heard it.

She smiled again. “Thank you.”

Something started to take form in my head, an idea, a little bit ridiculous and a little bit hopeful. A present for Solstice and a peace offering.

“Would you be willing to make something for me? I’ll pay you of course.” I said, already feeling the regret climbing up my mind.

“Sure, what did you have in mind?”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mor’s warm brown eyes met me through the full-length mirror in her room, she was dressed in a wine-colored dress that hugged every curve in her flawless body, long blond curls cascading over her shoulders and bold red lips adorned by a breathtaking smile. She was gorgeous, ethereal, in a way that didn’t make me want to rip the skin off of my own bones. How could someone be so similar yet so different to their own family? Mor’s brother had been brutally beautiful, in the way only a lethal predator would be. Blonde hair, strong, sharp features, and those dark eyes that could drag you into a pit of pure despair.

Some days it was particularly hard to look at Mor and not think of him, but unlike that beast of a male, she made me feel welcome and safe. I just had to breathe a couple of times and remind myself where I was at.

“You look like the night sky” her voice shook me out of my thoughts.

I smiled back at her and took one last glance at my figure in the mirror. I was clad in a fitting glimmering black dress, thin straps tied to the back of my neck, the fabric pooled atop the valley of my breasts, just under my cleavage and generously hugged them at the sides from where the skirt flowed like liquid to the floor. Mor had applied a delicate shiny powder to the top of my lids, some mascara and a rosé lip gloss.

I couldn’t stop staring at my obsidian black eyes, the thick lashes adorning them, the only thing I had inherited from my mother — such a beautiful tortured female she had been; but that was as far as my resemblance to her went, the harshness of my face…I had to thank my father for that, and the centuries of relentless anger. Only Mor could make such a face look beautiful. And I was grateful for that.

My sight moved to the small white scar atop of my right cheekbone, so pale it contrasted with my sun-kissed skin, and my hand rose on its own accord to graze the scarred tissue. It should have healed and disappeared on its own, it looked almost insignificant for it to leave a mark, but the cut had been deep enough to sever bone, and at the time I had refused to see a healer.

“What are you thinking of?” Mor asked softly. I turned around to face her.

“I’ve never apologized to you for what I did to your brother,” My voice came out a little strangled.

“And you never have to. You don’t apologize for surviving.” She frowned. “I am very aware of how cruel and evil my family is.”

“He was your only brother, Mor.”

“He was a monster, just like my father. You’re more family to me than he ever was.” She started and gave a little gentle squeeze to my arm. “You can talk to me, you know? About what…— about what happened. If you’d like. You don’t have to carry that weight alone.”

“I know, trust me I know..” I said, closing my fingers around the mark on my wrist “But I still can’t talk about it, the way you still can’t talk about what happened with Eris.”

She understood, more than anyone ever would. So she didn’t say anything else, instead she wrapped her arms around me in one of those tight embraces that help you put your soul back together a little bit.

“We’re gonna be late for dinner.” I laughed, she reluctantly let go.

“I got you a present” Mor pulled out a dark blue velvet box from her nightstand “Just don’t flash it around Amren if you wanna keep it.” She joked.

Inside sat a silver necklace encrusted with diamonds and lilac crystals. It was by far the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned. She made quick work of wrapping it around my neck and carefully set it atop my collarbones.

“Thank you, it is gorgeous, truly. Your present is down stairs, along with the rest” I said with an apologetic smile.

She smirked knowingly. “Except for that one,” a manicured finger pointed to the little black box with a blue ribbon sitting on the corner of her desk. I blushed. I was still debating whether it was a good idea to bring it or not. “Who’s the lucky one?” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Oh shut up, I already regret it.”

She laughed. “Well, if your dress doesn’t leave him speechless that sure will.” She winked, linked my arm to hers and winnowed us to the River House.

The evening was going uneventfully, I had convinced Lucien to at least join us for dinner and had spent a good amount of time just speaking with him, waiting for everyone else to gather. He was having a tough time adjusting to this Court, if it weren’t for the job Rhysand had offered that had him traveling most of the time I’m pretty sure he would hardly interact with anyone here. Not to mention his situation with Elain…so I figured he could use a friendly face and an invitation to be part of the group.

We were half way through some appetizers, chatting animatedly about the time he spent in the human lands when I felt him. His dark stare was charged with something I couldn’t quite place and for some reason it made me nervous. I was used to lust, and hate and loathing; had seen many males direct that same looks at me through the years, but this was different. Azriel wasn’t wearing his typical bored expression, nor the harsh one he seemed to reserve just for me. It was strange but not completely unpleasant.

Lucien caught sight of what had drifted my attention away from the conversation and politely excused himself to fetch more wine in time for Cassian to step up, Azriel closely behind.

The general let out a low flirty whistle. “Now, that’s a dress” he spun me around while I laughed. “Looking good, Y/N”

“Thank you Cass. It’s nice to see you with a shirt on for a change” I joked. He stuck his tongue out at me.

“I just know you love to see me shirtless” He winked and went to say hi to Mor.

Azriel was still standing beside me, a little awkward and more tense than before. His wings had gone taut behind his back. I met his hazel stare and brace myself for a nasty comment. None came.

“Hi” he said.

It was odd to be standing next to each other and for once not being in a yelling match throwing insults left and right.

“Hi,” My reply came out softer than I expected. Still I couldn’t fully let my guard down.

“I haven’t seen you around much these days.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.”

“Rhys told me you were helping Helion with something” Azriel’s dark eyebrow raised in curiosity.

It was partially true, I’ve been coming and going between our courts, Helion has been showing me around the archives where I was to work if I decided to accept the offer. It was a beautiful place and his people had been nothing short of welcoming. But I didn’t want to think about that just yet, after tonight I still have three days to give him an answer.

“ Yes, he needed me to go through some stuff, research. Why were you looking for me?” I asked, mirroring his expression.

“I- I wanted to tell you that I tracked a pattern in the route of the missing fae, it goes all the way up to Vallahan.”

“You think the Court of Nightmares is trading slaves to Vallahan?”

“It’s a possibility. But since we don’t have any jurisdiction there, I thought that maybe we could intercept the caravan before they crossed the border out of Prythian.”

“You want me to come with you?”

I couldn’t help the incredulous look from my face, as if he had grown a second head.

“Sure, it is your mission after all.” he shrugged, taking a sip from his wine.

“What happened to you’re not as good as you think you are?” I mused, repeating his words.

“I was quick to judge, and you were right. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But I guess that’s what we do, isn’t it? Fight and yell and hurt.”

I wanted to ask him why, why does he hate me so much? We weren’t always like this, where had it gone wrong? But the words died in my throat, it was a conversation I wasn’t sure I was ready to have. Even now, I could feel the tension between us, gnawing at my insides, at the bond I had buried so deep that it felt more like a phantom limb than an actual living thing.

I could treat him with dignity but I wouldn’t trust my most vulnerable side to him. To bring the subject up was to let him see the anguish of these years, the anger and the tears I had shed because of it. That was simply out of the table.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Azriel averted his gaze away, at the rest of the party, to Lucien and Cassian.

“Do you enjoy it?” I asked. His wings twitched.

“No. Do you?”

I shook my head. “Then why do we keep up with it?”

“I don’t know, maybe I just don’t know how else to act around you.”

“You’re not a dick to anyone else though, just me. I’ve seen it.”

“And you don’t deserve it, I shouldn’t let you affect me that much”

My eyes snapped back to his, he seemed shocked for a moment, realizing what he just said. He opened his mouth, maybe to try and explain what he meant by that but then Feyre walked in, along with her sisters. Elain was the embodiment of beauty and grace, dressed in a baby pink gown with a pattern of roses embroidered into the bodice. She looked lovely, and of course I wasn’t the only one who thought that. I caught Lucien frozen in his spot, eyes glued to the middle Archeron sister. I didn’t want to see if Azriel was watching too.

“She’s gorgeous.” I murmured, suddenly very aware of myself.

Don’t you dare compare yourself. Mor’s sharp voice sounded in my head as a reminder.

I could feel Azriel’s assessing stare boring into me and I turned to face him. He kept silent for a long minute, just staring, eyebrows furrowed. What was he looking for in my face? I couldn’t fight the blush from creeping up my cheeks. Had he known what I was thinking?

“She is,” he stated, his voice a velvet murmur.

I could have sworn something inside of me thrummed with the sound of it in a pleasant way. And the feeling was enough to startle me.

Before I could attempt to open my mouth, a familiar figure appeared in my peripheral vision, just behind his back.

Elain, in all her radiant beauty capturing the attention of everyone in the room, approached Azriel with a gentle smile. The Shadowsinger's eyes flickered towards Elain, momentarily captivated by her presence. I couldn’t stand the awful feeling of being overshadowed. This was actually the first time in years I had a civil-enough conversation with Azriel, and it was short-lived.

I had to excuse myself, to retreat from the scene that had turned uncomfortable, if not a bit sour. Forcing a polite smile I turned to walk away and addressed Azriel, "I’m going to check on Cass. You know…this was actually not awful, Shadowsinger."

Azriel's gaze shifted back to me, a flicker of regret in his eyes. It was gone half a second later. "Perhaps we can continue this conversation another time."

With a nod, I made my way toward the exit, still very confused and shaken up with unspoken emotions. I couldn't bear to witness Azriel's attention fully claimed by Elain, the realization of an unrequited longing becoming too painful to endure.

As I stepped out of the room, into the welcoming chilling air that brought the change of season, it wasn’t Cassian standing in the garden, but Lucien. A conflicted look on his face.

“Aren’t you freezing out here?” I asked, joining him in the solitude of the night.

He shook out of whatever trance he had been in, and painted a little smile for me. “No. I’m a male of autumn, remember? I’ve got fire in my veins.”

I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Seriously, what are you doing here by yourself?”

“The same as you, it seems.” He took a look behind me, past the open door to the ballroom.

“I just needed some fresh air”

“Do you want me to leave?.”

“No. No, it 's ok. I like the company.”

“Likewise” he smiled a bit more genuine this time.

“It’s almost time for presents and I,uh— I got you something.” I reached into that night-filled pocket between worlds and pulled out a small amulet. Completely ignoring the other thing I had storage in there. “I know you love to travel and you always get a piece of those places with you so I thought I could give you this”

I pushed the amulet into his hand, it was crafted into the shape of a golden fox with a thin chain and a bow attached to its back. He examined the little thing, curiosity shining in his warm eyes.

“It’s a safe charm from the lands of the north, for travelers and wanderers. Or so they said” I shrugged.

He turned his attention to me, tucking the amulet into the pocket of his vest, and I could’ve sworn that flame licked his russet eye – bright and alive.

“You didn’t have to do this. Thank you, I really like it” Lucien’s deep voice was so cheery it made me smile.

“Sure I did, you’re my friend.”

“I’m glad we met, little raven.” He smiled. “I got you something as well, it’s inside along with the others, let me get it for you.”

Before I could reply he was already half way through the door of the ballroom. A couple of seconds later, it was Rhys who emerged in his place.

“What are you doing here? I thought I saw Lucien rushing past”

I chuckled. “I just needed to think for a moment.”

Rhys’s feline smile adorned his dark features like a shooting star, and he folded his arms in front of his chest. “Have you thought about what I suggested?”

Taking a shuddering breath I answered “yes, in fact I have”

“And?” he quirked an elegant eyebrow.

“And I got a peace offering, a present — sort of.” I took the small box out from that in between worlds space, and fiddled with the blue ribbon. “But I don’t know Rhys, maybe it’s too much. It feels weird.”

“Nonsense.” He said, tugging me by the elbow into the house. “Come on, I’ll be the mediator in this situation.”

“It’ll be even more mortifying if you’re watching.” I said, trying to hold my ground.

But he didn’t listen, Rhys kept dragging me through the rooms, searching for the Shadowsinger. I exchanged looks with Mor at some point, pleading she’ll come to my rescue, she just laughed it off and winked. Traitor. I even tried puppy eyes at Cassian, he was too busy staring at Nesta.

It wasn’t until Rhys pushed open the doors to the sitting room that he stopped, back going stiff. I peered over his shoulder and the scent struck me harder than the scene developing in front of us. The room was charged with its sweet sickening smell, desire. That’s what it was. I didn’t even register Azriel’s scarred hand drop from Elain’s delicate neck, because my lungs wouldn’t let any air in. He turned to us, to Rhys, sensing the intrusion.

“Azriel.” Rhys called, his voice as dark as the night. A warning.

The shadowsinger looked startled, ashamed even, of being caught like this. I couldn’t even look at Elain.

His hazel eyes found me behind Rhys and his expression turned stone cold. My head was buzzing and it overwhelmed me so much I could only think of getting rid of the damned box in my hand. Its weight was suddenly too heavy for me to carry.

Violet eyes full of concern slid to me and Rhysand was about to speak but I shook my head. His lips formed a thin line.

“I – uh, — I’m gonna see if Lucien wants some dessert.” I mused, barely audible for Rhys to hear. My throat felt tight as I attempted to flee.

Azriel’s vicious voice stopped me dead in my tracks.

“You…” His anger-twisted face snapped in my direction and he was about to blurt whatever hurtful thing was on his mind but Rhys interrupted him.

“Azriel, my office. Now.” The High Lord commanded.

Azriel pinned me to the spot with a cold look. And I couldn’t do anything but stand in the middle of the room, trying to breathe.

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moonchildstyles · 2 years

Text

nest

harry is y/n's best friend. he also happens to be an alpha. spending a week at his place has her brain doing weird things.

cw: a/b/o dynamics! while this has no smut in it, I still heavily encourage anyone not familiar with the trope to look it up before reading ahead!

wordcount: 10.5k+

—————

(Y/N) panted as she scaled Harry's driveway with her too-heavy weekender bag hanging over her shoulder. Did she know she was overpacked for only a week long stay? Sure, but she would rather be safe than sorry, so if that meant bringing an extra five pairs of panties and three more sets of clothing than she needed, that was only being safe as far as she was concerned. What she hadn't planned for, was scaling Harry's long driveway with her bag banging against her side and her phone charger spilling out of the top and her school backpack weighing down her other side. Parking in her usual spot by the curb with shady covering provided by the leafy tree in his yard sounded perfect, until she felt her shoulders aching with the weight of her bags as she peered up the driveway.

By now, she was sure a sheen of sweat had collected above her brow and Harry was going to kill her for exerting herself when she could have easily texted him for some help with her things. But, (Y/N) didn't want to call on him to carry her things, her was already doing too much for her.

He was already letting her crash at his place for a week—maybe more—, so there was no reason to make him carry her textbooks and a week's worth of clothing. She'd take a little bit of a scolding instead of pandering for more help.

Just as she climbed the porch steps, the front door swung open only to reveal the alpha of the house with a bunny-toothed grin on his features and fluffy curls framing his face.

"(Y/N), h—What are you doing?" As expected, the second Harry caught sight of the sweat coating her features and heard the wheeze of her lungs, his brows furrowed and he all but rushed to join her on the short staircase. "Why didn't y'tell me y'were here?" he reprimanded her as he reached for her duffle, "And y'parked so far away. (Y/N), y'should have told me I would have helped y'carry your things in."

"I know, I know," she said, relief flooding her system when circulation returned to her arm, "I didn't think the bag was going to be that heavy, though, I promise. And, you're already doing so much for me, it's not fair—"

"Don't go off about what's fair with me, again," he cut her off, apparently having already anticipated this conversation, "I offered to let y'stay with me, and you're not inconveniencing me in anyway, okay? The only thing that isn't fair is when y'don't let me take care of you like I promised I would."

(Y/N) sighed as he brought up his promise again. It wasn't a new topic, but still one that made her tummy flutter every time he brought it up.

Years ago, when they first became friends their first year of university, Harry had been around when she had gone through a particularly bruising breakup. The alpha was not who (Y/N) thought he was, and that much was only apparent after she had fallen in love with the facade he had presented. Harry had been the only one to pick up when she called sobbing in the middle of the night, needing to talk to anyone who would listen and reassure her that she hadn't just ended a relationship with the only person who would ever love her like that alpha had screamed at her.

That night in the dark of his student dorm, Harry promised her that he would always be there to protect and take care of her. No one would be able to tamper with her self-worth ever again, or make her feel like she was a burden or hard to love—platonically or otherwise. It had been a serious promise, one that he said in the deep grumble of his alpha tone and with his eyes matching hers as he said it.

But, now, he loved to use it as an excuse to get his way whenever she wouldn't let him do something silly like hold her duffle bag or drive her to her early morning class. While she always made a point to roll her eyes at him when he made such comments, it never failed to make her heart feel full at the reminder of his promise.

Harry was always the one alpha who never tried to change her or push himself on her just for the fact that she was an unmated omega. He was even the driving force behind her deciding to continue her schooling towards her master's degree after graduation. So, if he wanted to scold her a little for carrying her own textbooks or parking too far away from his front door, she'd let him. It let her know he cared.

"Sorry, dad," she sighed, a petulant tease carrying her voice, "I'll park closer next time."

"That's what I thought," he said, pushing her with a hand on the small of her back through his front door. "And, you'll let me know when you're here, so I don't have to listen for you."

"Whatever you say," she shook her head, laughter filling the foyer as he piled on his conditions that she knew he wouldn't do anything about if she didn't adhere to them.

"Good," he grumbled, locking the front door behind them before he continued ushering her up the stairs. "Got the guest room all set up for you if y'want to go that way."

Harry's house was (Y/N)'s second home after her apartment, so the layout was easy to maneuver even without his hand on her back guiding her. Still, that didn't mean she wanted him to stop.

As expected, Harry had the guestroom set up perfectly for her, just as he always did whenever she had to sleepover at his place. The quilt he'd had in his dorm when they met was folded across the bottom of the bed, the familiar holes and frayed edges brought a smile to her face as it covered a section of the fluffy white duvet he'd bought specifically for her. There was something especially intimate about him buying her something that could so easily become the perfect base for a nest, but she knew it was only a part of his alpha instincts to give an omega something so special even if they were only friends. The rest of the room still held the potted plant she gifted him at his housewarming, sitting right in the bay window as the vining leaves draped themselves over the sill. A humidifier was stationed in the corner of the room, just beside the walk-in closet, a detail she knew he had in his own room because then he could turn it on just before bed after grabbing his pj's or turn it off in the morning after he got ready for work. The bedside table had a scented candle left with its cap off, allowing the strong scent of him to be filtered through the lens of autumn leaves and vanilla whipped cream.

(Y/N) felt at home as she stepped over the threshold. Harry's hand on her back disappeared as he moved around her, settling her bag on her temporary bed with a bounce of the mattress.

"Everything look good?" he asked her over his shoulder as he began to fuss over the little plant in the window.

"Yeah, thank you. It's perfect." (Y/N) could hear the smile in her own tone, with Harry surely able to smell her happiness as it flooded the room.

Pride lifted Harry's shoulders as he gave her a lopsided smile over his shoulder, having rotated the plant just enough so the baby leaves that just sprouted had the most sunlight. "Good, that makes me happy," he told her, his voice a quiet croon.

It was moments like these especially that (Y/N) couldn't believe he didn't have an omega. She knew that if she had the chance and wasn't so worried about the friendship they had curated, she would be clinging to him at all times, scenting all over and pining for his mark on her neck. He was too good of an alpha and a caregiver to be on his own, she believed.

Settling on the edge of the mattress, Harry unzipped her bag with the intention of helping her unpack just like he always did when she stayed for a little longer than a couple of days. "Has your building told y'any more about what's going on?" he asked her, pulling out her rolls of outfits from the weekender.

"Not really," she shook her head, taking his offerings to the closet with the door open behind her, "I overhead one of my neighbours talking about bugs, though. Like, a lot of them. Enough that the foundation or structure, or whatever, of the building isn't doing great. Some people might have to get their walls knocked down, too."

"(Y/N)," Harry sighed, absently reaching for another set of clothes to pass off, "Jus' come live with me, love. I told you that landlord wasn't right when we did that walkthrough."

"I know, I know, H," she said, used to this conversation from the many times Harry tried to convince her to move in, "But, its close to campus and rent is low, that's all I'm looking for right now."

"What happens when your entire floor falls through because bugs have eaten through the entire structure, hm?" he pressed, raising a brow at her while he plugged in all of her chargers.

"I'm sure my rent will be even lower then."

"(Y/N), please," Harry tried again, not laughing at her attempt to joke, "This worries me. I don't like thinking y'live somewhere so unsafe that they're kicking you out for a week—if not more—because the building might fall apart. You know I wouldn't make y'pay rent, and I can drive y'to class every morning on m'way to work."

Turning towards him, abandoning the hanger she was layering with clothing, (Y/N) gave Harry the same look she did when they talked about this. "You know it's not that easy, H"

"But, aren't we close enoug—"

"You're not my alpha, Harry. I don't want to live with anyone that isn't mine like that."

Though she felt bad to cut him off, she knew he wasn't going to understand otherwise. Yes, they were close enough she told people he was her best friend, but he wasn't hers. He wasn't someone that scented her, kissed her, or marked her. He wasn't her alpha.

Something ticked in Harry's jaw as he matched her eyes, the intensity making (Y/N) want to instinctively curl in on herself. "Trust me, I know," he murmured, "I jus' worry about you, (Y/N). Please at least think about it this week."

"I can do that," she relented with a quiet nod, "I'm sorry I worry you, I don't mean to."

Rising from his spot on the bed, Harry stood to the full of his height with his arms open for her. "Don't need to be sorry, 's not your fault 'm a worrywart," he told her once she stepped into his hug, arms cradling her shoulders while he pressed his cheek to her hair, "Jus' think about it for me. Even if y'only spend time here until y'find another place to live if your bug building gets worse."

"I will," she promised with a sigh, stopping herself before she could tuck her nose into the curve of his neck no matter how badly her instincts were urging her to do so, "Thank you for always letting me stay here if I need it."

"I love it when you're here with me, (Y/N), you know that. Makes me happy when all I have to do to see you is go down the hall." Though no one else was in the room—or the house, even—Harry spoke with his voice low as if he were sharing a secret only for her to hear.

Scrunching her eyes closed, (Y/N) curled herself tighter against Harry's chest. All she wanted to do was cling to him and inhale all of him that she could, scent him so she could take that crisp warmth with her wherever she went. But, like she had just told him: he's not her alpha. If she dared to even graze her nose along his neck, it would be far too intimate an act for two people who claim to be nothing more than best friends, she knew that.

Harry ran his hand along the plane of her back, palm warm as he skimmed over her skin through the loose knit of her sweater. "'S gonna be alright, love. Don't worry about your place, okay?"

While that wasn't exactly what was making her tummy hurt, she wasn't going to correct him.

—————

(Y/N)'s absolute favorite thing about waking up at Harry's place had to be the fact she was completely enveloped in his scent from the second she opened her eyes. While everything was clean and washed before she came over, the detergent and softener smell couldn't even dream to cover up the smell of everything Harry that had soaked into the fabric. Bringing the sheet up to her nose, (Y/N) indulged herself in a deep inhale of crisp apples and burnt cinnamon, deep and warm and heady.

All alphas had their own scent, distinctly identifiable, but they all had that deep dominance in common. Nothing could completely cover it up the same way suppressants could conceal an omega or neutralizers could cover a beta. There would always be a little bit of something—a base note of dark wine, or peppery firewood—that seeped through even the strongest of concealments. And, (Y/N) loved that when it came to Harry. She knew he set up a scented candle for her every time because he didn't want to overwhelm her with the strength of his scent after going from her light omega surroundings, but she always made a point to cap it before she went to sleep on her first night. By the time she woke up, nothing could hinder the smell of him.

The only thing that could top waking up in his scent was getting to lie in it all morning—which, since it was a Saturday, she got to do.

She didn't know how long she soaked in the smell of him, in a half dream state as she dozed in and out of sleep with the help of his comforting scent, but by the time Harry knocked on her door, she still felt like she hadn't gotten enough of him.

"Yeah?" she called out to him, stretching under the sheets as she tried to pry her eyes open.

Harry carefully cracked the door open, peeking his head in with a soft smile on his face as soon as he saw her wrapped in her bedding with wild hairs framing her face. "Jus' wanted to see if y'were awake. I have some breakfast from earlier waiting for you in the microwave if y'were awake enough to come downstairs."

"What'd you make?" (Y/N) peeped as she threw her legs over the side of the bed, feet searching for her slippers.

"French toast and those hashbrowns y'like."

It was the same breakfast he always made at least once for her when she stayed over.

"And chocolate milk?"

"And apple juice, if y'wanted something different."

She hoped he could smell the way her heart perked up for him. He really knew her so well.

—————

"Are you sure its alright that I tagged along today?"

The lopsided grin that molded Harry's features grew as he looked down at her for a second as he steered the shopping cart. "(Y/N), jus' because y'ask me four different times doesn't mean you're going to get a different answer."

"I know," she sighed, rerouting herself when Harry made a quick turn into the bread aisle, "I just feel bad you're shopping for me since I'm only staying with you for a week."

Harry shrugged, reaching for a loaf of thick bread to be placed in his trolley. "I don't mind, jus' like I've already told you. And, it might be longer, remember? We need to, at least, get a couple of things for you to take to class."

"I'm going to pay you back for all of this, Harry," she cemented, following after him as moved an aisle down for all things pasta, "I know you're going to say no, but I am. This is more than just letting me stay with you for a little while. I wouldn't feel right if I didn't give you something for all of this."

"Just be happy and consider what we talked about the other day, okay? That's all I want from you—nothing else, alright?"

"But, Ha—"

"Do you like the five cheese marinara or the basil and garlic more?" Harry cut her off, holding up two opposing jars of spaghetti sauce.

Raising an unimpressed brow, (Y/N) looked to Harry's seemingly oblivious face between the two raised jars. "Harry."

Puckering his lips to the side, Harry turned the jars to get a look at the labels. "Yeah," he hummed, "We should try both. I haven't tried this brand yet, anyway, so I don't know which one is better for the gnocchi."

"Harry," she tried again, a giggle seeping into her words as she followed after his slow steps down the shelves of dried pasta, "Please."

"Nope," he popped, reaching to the highest shelf with ease as he grabbed for a package of whole-wheat linguine, "'M not listening."

"C'mon," she tried again, stepping in front of him so he couldn't get away too easily with the cart in tow. "It's not a big deal, as soon as I get paid I'll just—"

"No, you won't," he solidified, looking down at her with the full intensity of his green eyes, "Remember what I promised you?"

"I can't believe you're using that against me, right now, in the middle of the pasta aisle." (Y/N) playfully puffed out her bottom lip.

"What? Y'don't like being reminded that I like to take care of you where everyone can see you get all flustered? Is that it, (Y/N)?"

Maybe it was the way he didn't dare pull his gaze from hers or the deep tone of voice that rumbled through his chest, but (Y/N) felt her tummy tighten as she gazed up at him. Did she get flustered when he talked about the promise? If she did, she'd never noticed before. But, it seemed Harry did.

"I don't get flustered," she countered lamely, fluttering her lashes as she dropped her gaze, allowing him to win that game.

"Yes you do," he sung, a tease coating his voice as he ducked his head into her line of sight, "Every time I say something, I swear your eyes get all dreamy and y'won't look at me until your butterflies stop."

"I don't have butterflies."

Harry shook his head then, lopsided smile and a single dimple in his cheek. "Sure, y'don't, silly. And I don't smell them on you right now, either." With that, Harry straightened his posture and grabbed for the bar of the trolley. "Now, do y'want some of those little protein packs or fruit to take with y'between classes?"

(Y/N) watched as Harry nonchalantly started down the aisle, moving towards the wall of refrigerators while she couldn't find it in her to unlock her knees and follow after. The muscles of his back shifted under his top as he pushed the trolley, black sweats hanging low enough on his hips that if he moved just right, she was allowed a peek at the tan skin of his hip.

Something's changed. This wasn't the first time in the last couple of days since she'd started her stay that Harry had practically flirted with her. Sure, there had always been a little something to their interactions that solely came from the fact they were sexually compatible given their classes, but this was different. It was more than the friendly teasing that had been apart of their friendship since the beginning. He was doing more, pushing more, getting closer and speaking lower, a voice she wasn't familiar with.

It'd only been three days since she started sleeping over—longer than any of her previous weekend stays—and (Y/N) was beginning to worry about what else he was going to start picking up on if he was now noticing just how easily flustered and butterfly-filled he could make her.

"Are y'coming, love?" Harry called to her from the end of the aisle, his brows pinched as he beckoned to her.

Immediately, she perked up, not wanting to be left behind. "Yeah, sorry."

"'S alright, jus' stay close, yeah?" he murmured once she was close enough, corralling an arm around her back to tug her between his chest and the handlebar of the cart, "Saw some alpha looking for a little too long and getting a little too close to you."

"Really?" She really must have been oblivious if she didn't notice a whole other dominating presence creeping up on her.

"Mhm," Harry grumbled, his hands on either side of her flexing around the bar as he escorted them towards the snacks, "No reason for him to be getting so close, especially when you've got m'smell all over you."

(Y/N) was grateful for the fact he only had a view of her back when a small smile plucked at the edges of her mouth. If she allowed her mind to wander, she could argue he sounded... protective over her. Like he had claimed her.

"I'll stay right here, then," she murmured, "No more wandering."

A contented hum that verged on a soothed purr rumbled Harry's chest. "Thank you."

—————

(Y/N) jumped as the sound of Harry's laughter pulled her from her half-asleep state. Her eyelids fluttered open with a quiet gasp, only to see a different Julia Roberts rom-com gracing the television screen than the one she remembered playing the last time she had her eyes open. Maybe she had been a little more than half-asleep.

Making a point to sit up from the curling position she found herself in, (Y/N) shifted under the quilt that was taken from her temporary bedroom. With a short stretch, she folded her legs underneath her and pushed her back firmly against the cushions. Leaning against the back of the couch, she found Harry's arm tossed around her form, the warmth not having shown up on her radar in her sleepy daze.

Once he realized she was awake, (Y/N) saw from the corner of her eye as he gave her a fond look before ducking his head down. With his lips hovering by her ear, he spoke as if they really were at the cinema they were pretending his living room to be, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake y'up. I promise I was trying to be quiet."

"I wasn't asleep, its alright," she mumbled out, clearing her voice she in hopes of living up to her facade. Running a heavy hand through her hair with a clarifying tug at the roots, (Y/N) tried her best to suss out what was happening on the T.V. If she squinted enough with the sleep in her eyes, she was somewhat sure that Mystic Pizza was playing.

"Right, cause you knew y'were drooling on my shoulder for the last half hour, and you jus' thought it was too funny to stop," Harry countered, canting his head to the side with a nonchalant half shrug while the light from the television highlighted the side of his face.

Eyes wide and jaw dropped, (Y/N) felt her grogginess leach from her system, warm embarrassment replacing it.

"I didn't drool on you," she denied, her eyes drifting down to the shoulder of his shirt before flicking back to his shaded gaze, "Did I?"

A little too smug of a smile molded his features before he shook his head. "No, but now I know you were sleeping," he teased, his grin only widened when she saw her lips puff into a pout. "'S alright if y'were asleep, love. I can turn off the movie and we can go to bed, if y'want. It's getting late, anyway."

(Y/N) was quick to shake her head, knowing the long day Harry had and that he was taking this time to decompress. "No, no, it's okay. Let's finish this one, and then we'll see," she insisted, focusing her gaze forward, "What did I miss?"

Though she had her eyes trained forward, watching Julia Roberts' character find her love interest in a bar, (Y/N) could feel Harry's eyes lingering on her as he made no attempt to follow the direction of her gaze. Heat traced over her profile as if he were running his fingertips over the planes of her face. The warmth danced over the bridge of her nose and bounced across her Cupid's bow though she swore he lingered over the pillows of her lips. A beat passed before she peeked over at him, the intensity of his gaze confirmed when he didn't mind matching her eyes and didn't shy away when she caught him.

"What?" she peeped.

Something flashed in his eyes—either it was the light from the T.V. or something else, (Y/N) didn't know, but she saw it.

"Nothing," he murmured, voice low and purring, "C'mere."

Slipping his arm from around her waist, he pulled the quilt that was draped over their laps to sit on his other side in a bundle.

"Wait, wh—"

"Lay down, love," he told her, nodding his head towards his lap, "I'll bundle y'up as soon as you're comfortable."

A small smile tugged at (Y/N)'s lips when she realized what he was suggesting. They hadn't cuddled like this in a while, probably not since before her last relationship ended over a year ago.

Shuffling her way over the couch, (Y/N) laid herself out on the cushions with her legs scrunched to fill out the remaining two with her head landing in Harry's lap. The full of his thighs worked as her pillow, warm and comforting with her most favorite smell of all surrounding her, right from the source. Even with the muscles cording his arms and beefing his stature, Harry was gentle as he tucked the quilt around her form, keeping her warm and cuddled up.

"This better?" he asked her. The dark of the living room allowing only peeks and glances at his features once the scene on the television lit up enough to do so, but (Y/N) couldn't help but hope she really did see the fondness in his gaze and it wasn't just a trick of the light.

"Yeah, thank you," she murmured, feeling her eyes grow heavy now that she was comfortable and well taken care of by an alpha.

"Good," he smiled at her, grazing his fingertip across her brow to pull a stray hair that threatened to peek in to her line of sight, "If y'fall asleep, 's alright. I'll take y'upstairs, okay? I jus' want y'to relax, (Y/N)."

The soothing rumble of his tone and the careful skim of his skin against hers was enough to have (Y/N) fluttering her eyes closed in contentment. "Okay, H," she responded dreamily.

Shifting to lay on her side, (Y/N) cuddled in with her hands under her chin while Harry played with her hair in soothing motions. Though she tried to keep track of the film for as long as she could, (Y/N) didn't stand a chance with the warmth of Harry's touch skating through her hair and the comfort of his scent wafting to her nose directly from the source. The audio of the movie became background noise that helped set the tone for the nonsensical dream that was beginning to shape up behind her eyelids.

Until Harry started purring, of course.

That became the center of her focus then. The rumbling deep tone of his purring comforted her farther than what just the smell of him and his soft touches could do. None of her previous alphas had ever shared something so intimate with her, knowing that purring like this could feel like music to an omega like her—especially seeing as how she was fostering feelings for Harry.

Maybe he didn't even realize he was doing it, or maybe it was the pending dream talking, but (Y/N) liked to think he wanted to share this with her.

—————

Harry rolled his neck after shifting his car into park in the garage. With his eyes closed, he let out a deep breath as he relaxed into the plush leather of his seats. This week has been excruciatingly long, and it was only Thursday.

And, it was because of (Y/N).

His workload was the same as always, maybe ticked up a tiny bit just because one of his team members was out for vacation, but nothing he couldn't handle. The only thing that plucked him off-kilter was his little houseguest.

Not to say she was unpleasant to live with—quite the opposite if his badgering for her to move in with him meant anything—, but he found himself struggling more than usual around her. Harry knew since the day they met that they were compatible. Call it instincts or the fact she was so obviously an omega that balanced out the alpha in him, but Harry swore in his gut, he knew that (Y/N) was going to be special to him.

But, that had been years ago, back when she was with another alpha and had confided in Harry as a best friend. Though he never really lost that sparkle he felt for her, it was something he was able to manage, especially as it seemed she didn't feel that same glimmering affection towards him outside of being a best friend.

These past days seemed to be putting that notion of management to the test, though.

Harry didn't know what it was, but something shifted this time around. Maybe it was him; he knew he was toeing into territory not yet explored between them with the way he flirted with her more obviously, and tried to squeeze a cuddle in any time he could manage it. Even with that, Harry couldn't forget the way he caught her snuggling up to his sheets when he woke her most mornings for breakfast. With the scented candle he brought up for her capped and stowed away, she had her nose tucked into the sheets that had been stored in his linen closet next to his usual sets he alternated through for his own bed. He knew, that even though they were clean and unused, his scent had to have stuck to them and wiggled its way between every fiber. She was looking for him when she smelled those sheets.

Even the other night during their impromptu movie night, (Y/N) had been the one initiating all of the snuggling until he had to corral her into settling down in his lap so she could get some actual sleep instead of knocking her head against his shoulder. When she looked up at him after he tucked the quilt around her form, he swore he saw something extra in her gaze; extra soft, extra fond, extra tender, extra trusting. He even purred for her.

Trust was as good as foreplay as far as Harry was concerned, the notion flooding his heart and calling to his more basic instincts, especially when the idea involved (Y/N). That was what had been plaguing him throughout his work days. No reprieve could even be offered when he came home, though—especially not on those days (Y/N) came home early enough from class to get dinner started with her scent trailing all around the house as she cleaned up and did bits of housework he would never expect from her.

Still, that didn't mean he wasn't ecstatic to be coming home to her. He just didn't know how much more his heart could take before it gave out and he had to offer it up to her for repairs.

Leaving the sanctity of his car behind, Harry came in through the garage. Though he hadn't expected (Y/N) to be back already, today being one of the days her classes ran longer than his workday, he was surprised to find the entire house soaked in her scent. More than usual.

With brows furrowed, he stalked through the house, stopping to take a peek out the front window, (Y/N)'s car wasn't there just as he figured. Nonetheless, he couldn't ignore the way his entire house reeked with the smell of her fruity perfume though this selection was decidedly more heady and dark than what he was used to scenting from her. There wasn't even a discernible trail of where she might have been, the mass of scent having permeated through the whole space and planted itself in every inch.

Though the more basic parts of him were responding especially well to the glaze of omega scent that touched over all of his things, Harry couldn't help but feel concerned. She wasn't supposed to be home if her lack of car was any kind of proof, so he couldn't see why her smell would be so deeply ingrained no matter where he touched.

Trailing up the staircase, with every step the perfume only grew stronger and stronger until he was directed to his bedroom. The door was left ajar only a small crack, but Harry didn't need that peek inside to know what he was going to find the second he pushed the door open.

(Y/N) sat on her hands and knees, back and bottom facing Harry as she rummaged through a pile of his clothing she had ransacked and splayed out across the floor. Every suitable piece she found was tossed over her shoulder in the direction of his bed, where her nest was beginning to form, full of every soft piece of linen and bedding in the house as well as everything that was directly Harry's that carried his scent to the max. She'd even plucked her own clothing off in favor of putting herself in a large shirt of his and a pair of slouching sweats he'd worn to bed the night before.

His bedroom was steeped in her scent. The typical notes of cherries and raspberries, creamy strawberries and alluring rose petals flitted to his nose before they were blended and aged into something heady and dark like the wine he had chilling downstairs. There wasn't a single surface left untouched with her smell.

Harry felt his chest tighten as he breathed in, lungs filling but unwilling to let even a single particle of her scent leave his body. With her frantically pulling a nest together in his bedroom and the extra heat that was added to her scent, Harry knew what was going on as well as his body did in the way it reacted to her.

"You're nesting," Harry said, voice low but firm as she stepped further into his bedroom.

With a gasp, (Y/N) sat up from where she was reaching for another of his knitted sweaters to add to the mess that was becoming his bed. She turned with a flutter of her hair, eyes wide as her mouth dropped into a small gape the second she took him in.

"Harry!" she breathed out, her features molding into a smile before she scrambled to her feet, "You're home!"

She crossed the room in frantic steps, all but tripping over herself and the length of her borrowed sweats before she launched herself into Harry's arms. Harry stood solidly as she bounded into him, catching her around her waist as she pressed herself flush against his form. The absolute contentment he could smell mixing in with her pleasured scent was only made more apparent in the way she all but melted into his hold, arms looping around his neck as he gazed up at him with hearts in her eyes.

"I am," he mumbled, trying his best to keep his mind clear despite the way her scent urged him to leave himself to his most basic instincts, "Didn't think y'would be, though."

"Oh," she sighed, blinking her eyes with a flutter of her lashes, "yeah, I left class early today."

He couldn't say he was surprised. "Yeah? What happened?"

(Y/N) didn't even seem to be aware of the way she squirmed in his arms, her chest pressing tightly to his as she lined her hips up perfectly with the full of his thigh. He stayed unmoving as she did so, forcing himself to keep a strong hold on his control until he had a better understanding of what was happening.

"I don't know, I don't remember," she bubbled off for him, a lazy smile on her features as she began to play with the baby curls on the nape of his neck, "I just wanted to be home with you." Just then, her face dropped, eyes rounding out with lips turning into a frown. "But then after my friend dropped me off—she said I wasn't allowed to drive myself because it wouldn't be safe, so I'll have to get my car tomorrow or something, I don't know. Anyway, she dropped me off and when I saw you weren't home, I got so sad, H. I forgot you worked."

As mind-muddling as this whole thing was, her scent clouding his head and directing his blood flow south, he couldn't help but smile some at her explanation. She forgot he had a job and wouldn't be home, even though he had said goodbye to her this morning before he left.

"Is that what got you all upset enough to start nesting in m'bedroom?" Harry pressed, pulsing his arms around her waist when the roll of her hips got a little too deliberate over the full of his thigh.

Her brow pinched in the middle as if she forgot that was what he had walked in on her doing, the mess on his bed having been thrown from her mind the second he walked through the door. "I guess so," she shrugged, "I knew I wanted to make a nest when I came back even if you were home, and I guess I wanted to make it in your room."

The idea of (Y/N) toddling home with the intention to nest, only to instinctively go straight to his room, had him seconds away from backing her into his bed and shucking those sweats from her legs once he got her settled in her nest.

"And y'put m'clothes on?" he murmured, ducking his head down until he felt the tip of her nose grazing his own.

Not a bit of shame or embarrassment he knew would normally have followed an admittance like this came as (Y/N) nodded her head with a lingering smile. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he told her, the effects of her scent having nothing to do with that, "Y'said y'don't remember why y'had to leave class? Or why your friend had to drive y'back?"

"I mean," she drawled, tilting her head with a giggle, her throat exposed to Harry's gaze. He swallowed as he traced his eyes over the delicate curve. "I think I do, but I'm scared to tell you."

The mention of her fear pulled Harry from his lost fantasy as he imagined sinking his teeth into the delicate skin that covered her pulse. She would look so pretty with a mark like that on her throat.

"Why? You know y'don't have to be scared to tell me things," he told her, his voice turning to a coo that he knew would draw more of her compliance to the surface. If this was what he thought it was, he needed to hear it directly from her.

"I know, I know," she sighed, matching her gaze to his with that same dreamy quality swirling in her irises, "But I don't want to make everything weird. I don't want you to stop holding me."

His fingertips gently denting the soft planes of her back, Harry held her tightly against his chest, matching her gaze with his own intensity. "I won't, love, see? Hugging y'even tighter, so now you've got to tell me."

Though she attempted to bite back her smile, the curve of her lips took over the softened features of her face. He couldn't help but match her expression with a quirk of his own lips, dimple denting his cheek as she raised herself to stand on her tip toes. Meeting her halfway, he ducked his head down and turned his ear to her.

"I think, I'm having my heat."

Her voice was a breathy whisper as her lips hovered by his ear, her breath fanning across his heated skin. Her words practically dripped over his skin like warm honey, sticky sweet and heavy as they clung to him.

"Yeah? You think so?" he pressed, voice deep enough to verge into alpha territory as his arms tightened around her.

"Mhm," she hummed, canting her head to the side as if she didn't know how tempting that sight would look to Harry in his state. She was lucky she wasn't being as squirmy as before, otherwise all the hard work she put into her nest would have been for nothing with how quickly he would have torn it apart with her on all fours for him. "I've only ever needed to nest this bad when I've been on my heat," she explained, her voice becoming the perfect counterpart to the deep gravel his was leaning into, "But, I've only ever had my heat when I've been with my last alphas, so I do—"

(Y/N) cut herself off as she jumped in his arms, mouth falling open at the low grumble that shook his chest. In a second her pupils were blown wide as he looked up at him, her breathing stuttering in conjunction with the racing of her heart that all but shook her veins. Harry watched as she tipped her head to the side, relaxing against as she bared her neck to him.

"Don't speak about them," he told her, voice low and deep, just one octave above dipping into his alpha voice and making it a command she couldn't refuse.

"Sorry," she whispered though she didn't look all that sorry given how turned on she was.

"Are you?"

The frantic nod she gave him as she trapped her bottom lip between her teeth was all the response he was given before she tightened her hold around him. He felt her body move against him as she strained on her tiptoes, her nose skimming his jawline as she spoke in a whisper, "Let me show you."

Just before she made a move to stuff her face in his neck, scent him just as intimately as he had imagined since he'd met her those years ago, Harry was reminded of the flash of her blown pupils. Her breathless voice rung in his ears and the intoxicating scent of her that not only muddled his head but no doubt had her spiraling since she made the choice to come home earlier in the day. He was quick to shift his hold on her, grabbing for the back of her neck before she could make the choice to scent him, a line they never crossed when they were both sound of mind.

(Y/N) whined when she was stopped, her brows pinching as her lips puffed into a pout. "Why did you do that?"

It took every bit of strength he had to combat his instincts, trying to tame himself against the heat of her body and the fact she was so willing to do anything for him, anything to make him happy. If she really was in her heat, the fact she had only every gone through them with whatever alpha she had been with at the time made it that much clearer to Harry that this wasn't something she would want with him normally. She wasn't of sound mind. She thought she wanted him because he was the closest alpha to her—the easiest one around to quell her needs.

While he wasn't in a much better headspace than her, he knew he had a better chance of saving them from the regret (for (Y/N) when she woke up and realized she'd let someone she only had platonic feelings for be so intimate with her) and heartbreak (for Harry when he saw her come to that realization) that would ensue the morning after. This wasn't a good idea despite how much his body wanted to convince him otherwise.

"We can't, (Y/N)," he told her, softening his tone as he massaged the back of her neck in hopes of soothing the rough way he had grabbed her in the first place.

"Why not?" she whined, her arms around his neck tightening, "Don't you want me? I thought you liked my nest, and I've been making dinner and cleaning up while you're at work. I thought I've been a good omega for you."

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry forced himself to refocus as he listened to her.

"Y'have been really good, (Y/N). Such a good omega, you know that," he attempted to soothe her, distracting her with his words as he unlaced his hands around her waist in favor of unwinding her arms from his neck. He watched as he perked up at the praise. "I'd be so lucky to have you, I know that. I've wanted y'for so long it hurts, but you don't want me like that."

(Y/N) was quick to shut him down with a shake of her head, her hands in his turning into a tight grip that urged him to stay. "That's not true! I do want you! I nested with all your clothes, Harry! I want you around me all the time, you're the only one that can make me feel better. I love you, isn't that enough?"

He swallowed as he tried not to let her pleading go to his head. He'd been waiting around for years to hear her say anything close to that ramble she just shared with him. But, the second he reminded himself that wasn't really her—that it wasn't really his shy, sweet best friend who looked to him for comfort and safety without the pressure of other alphas—he knew he couldn't let himself get caught up.

"Of course, that's enough, (Y/N). I jus' don't think rig—"

"Don't you love me, too?"

The back of Harry's jaw ticked as he processed her words, his gaze dropping to the ledge of her collarbones. He didn't have the strength to look into her eyes as she said things like that and keep his head on straight.

"I do, (Y/N), so much. For so long, too. But, I think you and I both know that you're not in the right state of mind right now for us to talk about that, right? Are you listening to me?" Maybe he was using his alpha-sway to his advantage, but he needed to know (Y/N) was listening to him, even if she wasn't quite understanding or agreeing for the time being.

"But—"

"No, jus' need y'to listen to me right now—that's how you'll be a good omega for me," he explained, tilting his head as he waited for her to mirror him to know she was in tune to what he was saying. "I think your heat is telling you that y'need me, but I don't think that's true. And I wouldn't want to do anything to my best friend that might upset her, even if she thinks its what she wants. Do I?"

The short shake of her head he earned was enough to have a lopsided smile curling his lips.

"You won't upset me, though," she peeped back, eyes shining, "I want you so bad because I love you, Harry."

Though the sentiment she shared was enough to have his already hammering heart skip a beat, he needed to level himself out before he only did something that would upset himself in the morning.

"I know," he told her, thought he wasn't so sure of that, "How about y'sleep in m'room tonight, and we'll see how y'feel in the morning if anything's changed. Do whatever y'need to do to make yourself happy, alright? I'll be downstairs." On instinct, he wanted to tack on that she could could grab him if she needed him, but that wasn't the kind of invitation she needed to hear at the moment. "I want to help you, love, I really do. But, I can't."

Harry swore his heart broke as he watched her face fall, tears tingling on the waterline of her eyes as he sat her down on the edge of his bed. The mess of his clothes and fluffy linens shifted as the mattress sunk under her weight, but she didn't seem to pay her little project any mind with the way her eyes were glued to him.

"I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

Harry waited for any kind of response until (Y/N) only gave him a small nod.

He was able to make it out, door shut behind him just before he heard the beginning of her breathless crying.

—————

Waking up in the morning, Harry felt more exhausted than he's sure he would have if he had just stayed upstairs with (Y/N).

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he sat up from where he made an impromptu bed on the couch with the single sheet (Y/N) had left in the closet during her effort to make her elaborate nest. He cringed as he rolled his neck; the throw pillow he had stuffed under his head put a crick in the muscles during the three hours he was able to sleep.

It wasn't (Y/N)'s fault that he wasn't able to shut his mind off or stop listening to everything happening only a floor above him until he finally passed out at three a.m.. She had whined for him for an hour, the cries muffled through the floor separating them, but he knew she was calling for him with every puffed sob. Guilt plagued his every thought as he listened, willing himself to stay just where he was at on the living room couch, no matter how much the alpha in him urged him to soothe his favorite little omega and give her anything she wanted. After she calmed down from that, he listened to the way she darted through his room, her feet shuffling over the floor as she assumedly perfected her nest or whatever she needed to do to fulfill herself without an alpha at her disposal. He tried hard not to think about what the creaking of his mattress could mean the later the night went on. It was only when she seemed to find her own reprieve, quieting for a bit of time, that Harry was able to lull himself to sleep.

Now, at six a.m., his body apparently deciding he didn't need anymore sleep though his brain begged to differ, he figured he might as well check in on (Y/N). If he thought he had a bad night, he could only imagine how the last handful of hours had been for her. He didn't know how much of their conversation the night before was something that would still hurt her in the light of day, but he hoped anything he said that would still upset her sound mind could be soothed with a plate of his cinnamon French toast and that special raspberry honey he found at the farmer's market that she loved.

Stretching out his limbs, Harry caught his bearings. Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, his bare feet touching the hardwood sent an orienting chill up his body. Not only was his neck and back going to hurt for the next three days at least, he'd also managed to sleep in his work clothes, keeping him from getting comfortable in his skin. The best part, he was going to have to shower and change right into another set just like it.

Standing from the couch, he made slow work of folding up the sheet and placing it at the foot of the couch, to be put away when he had a moment. It wasn't until he started towards the bedroom upstairs that he realized there was noise coming from the kitchen, silence filling the upstairs. A pinch pulled at his brows as he slowly woke fully.

While there was evidence of (Y/N)'s perfume everywhere in his house still, the concentration had dropped considerably. The sweetened top notes that he always associated with her won out against the dark merlot-heavy essence that mixed in the night before. Everything was decidedly less frantic throughout the house, less muddled and more in order, even if that was just because the haze of her scent was no longer clouding his judgment.

"(Y/N)?" he called out as he ventured towards the kitchen.

"I'm in here," she answered, her voice decidedly quieter than what he was hollering through the house. She was embarrassed, that much he could tell already, her scent growing demure as if she were trying to shrink herself from the inside out.

Stepping into the kitchen, he found her now dressed in her own pajamas, damp hair pulled up from her neck into a twist as she stood in front of the stove. The entire kitchen had been wiped down from the midnight snack he made for himself after (Y/N) had settled some in the night, leaving only the supplies she'd used while making breakfast on the counter.

"Morning," he mumbled, finding a post at the kitchen island to lean into with his elbows on the surface.

"Morning," she chirped back, trying to hide the demure rose he could smell in her scent. "I'm just finishing up the hashbrowns, but I already made omelettes and everything. It should be ready in a second."

Typically, heats could last somewhere from three days to a full seven depending on the omegas needs and whether or not an alpha was there to fulfill them. Even in the most mild of cases—which hers was not if any of the frantic bubbling and devastated pleas for him to stay were anything to go by—(Y/N) shouldn't be up and caring for him so early in the morning. She even had time to shower and wash her hair, something Harry knew could take her close to an hour depending on how long she felt like luxuriating under the water.

"How are y'feeling?" he tested, watching her for reactions despite the way she had her back to him.

With spatula in hand, she scooped out the shreds of potatoes and doled out sections to each plate. She shrugged as she did so, though Harry could see the set of her spine was anything but nonchalant.

"It was—um—it was a false heat," she murmured, "So, I was able to sleep it off after I calmed down."

"Oh," he sounded, nodding his head. That wasn't too surprising; it's happened before to omegas. If they spend enough time around an alpha, someone they trust but might not be intimate with, it can push them into a false heat with their body running through the adrenaline and the need for a companion, only for the effects to wear off in twenty-four hours.

"Yeah," she affirmed, turning to him with their plates of breakfast in hand. Silence settled over them as she rounded the island and picked a stool near where Harry was leaning, his plate being placed just at his side. Taking the invitation to sit, Harry waited as he watched her, noting the way she seemed tightly wound and unable to look at him for longer than a second before her eyes were focusing on something else.

"Y'feel alright now, though?" he gently prodded. Something was wrong and she wasn't sharing it with him.

"Yeah, just tired," she simplified, nodding her head before she poked at her omelette with her fork.

"Gonna stay home today, then?" he asked, cutting off a bite of the hashbrowns with the side of his fork.

"Kind of have to since I don't have my car," she breathed out, attempting to make herself laugh in spite of the obvious discomfort surrounding her.

"Right," he smiled, the curl nothing more than a facade that he wanted so badly to ease (Y/N).

Every word that came out of her mouth was a chirp, nothing more. No explanation, as if to avoid any kind of conversation with him. This wasn't at all how he saw the morning after, especially not after he tried so hard to keep things from getting messy between them.

"Harry?" she asked after a beat, looking to him though her eyes were stationed on the countertop under his hand. After Harry hummed an acknowledgment, she paused as she took in a deep breath, flitting her eyes to his where he found a sheen covering them. "I'm so sorry," she peeped.

In an instant he was off his stool with open arms, moving to collect her and soothe her, "Oh, (Y/N)."

"No, no," she shook her head, her fork clattering to her plate as she waved her hands in front of her. Harry stopped in his tracks, wanting so badly to soothe her but knowing that she wasn't going to let him. "What I did last night wasn't right, and it wasn't fair. I tried to force myself on you after you said no so many times, and then kicked you out of your room all because I couldn't calm down. It's not f-fair"—now the sniffling began with tears running over her waterline—"that I went th-through all of your stuff without asking, all because I wanted to ne-nest. I'm so, so, so sorry. I can't be-believe I did all that to you and you were still so nice to me."

By then, she couldn't contain the sobs that puffed her chest and stunted her lungs. Harry couldn't hold himself back as he saw her hang her head in her hands, palms to her eyes as she cried her heart out in the middle of his kitchen. As carefully as he could manage, he wrapped her in his arms, giving a moment's time for her to push him away if she wanted her space, but it was her that snuggled deeper against his chest once the warmth was offered.

"'S alright, (Y/N), really," he crooned to her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before smushing his cheek in the same spot, "I know that wasn't you, okay? You're such a sweet girl, I knew y'weren't being yourself as soon as y'started talking to me like that. I don't blame you, okay? Heats and ruts can make us do crazy things, especially when we aren't prepared." A smile quirked his lips when he felt her nod her head against his chest, tears smattering his shirt as she clutched the fabric in her fists. "And I offered to sleep on the couch, remember? I knew y'needed your space and I didn't mind that y'needed m'things or m'bed to feel comfortable through it all. Besides, it was a wonderful little nest y'made, no reason for me to complain."

A hiccuping laugh was muffled against his chest as she nuzzled her nose into his top. "Th-Thank you."

"I wish I could have taken care of you, so y'didn't wake up feeling like this. I was so worried, I jus' didn't know how to help you, (Y/N). It scared me," he murmured to her, the words sinking into the strands of her hair.

"I didn't mean to."

"I know, sweet girl, I know. Not your fault at all, remember?"

A beat passed as she melted into his arms, the scent of her curling and flourishing the more she let herself relax after the morning she'd had. With her face still tucked against his chest, the tip of her nose skimming his skin through his top, she whispered, "Can I ask you something?"

"Course, sweet girl." He liked the way her scent peaked in contentment, roses blooming and strawberries flowering anytime he dubbed her his sweet girl.

"Last night, I know I was kind of out of it, but I remember you telling me you loved me," she started, "It didn't feel like when you usually tell me, though. I-I think you told me you've loved me for a long time... What did you mean when you said that?"

Now it was Harry's turn to go dry-mouthed as he fought to formulate an answer. He had almost been hoping she wouldn't remember something like that.

He must have floundered for a second too long when (Y/N) pulled away from his chest, looking up to him with glossy, red-rimmed eyes before she tried to backtrack. "If I'm totally wrong, that's fine, I'm sorry I brought it up. I don—"

"You weren't," he cut her off in a rush, the words falling from his mouth before he could control them, "You weren't wrong."

Harry watched as her eyes widened with a glimmer sparking through her irises. The smallest curve plucked at the corner of her lips just as her scent went even sweeter—a sign of sticky, sweet joy dribbling into her system.

"I'm not?"

Taking in a deep breath full of her fruited scent, Harry shook his head. "No, I did say that," he started, shifting his hold on her to land with his hands on her waist, "And I meant it differently than when we usually say it. I meant it."

The hands she had bundled in his top tightened, the fabric hers now with how hard she gripped it. "You meant it like—like—"

"Like 'm in love with you."

The way she perked up in his arms with a quiet gasp had all of Harry's worry draining from his system. She looped her arms around his neck, mimicking the position he found himself with her the night before but with much more clarity and less squirming. "Are you being serious, Harry?" she bubbled off, bouncing in her spot with her eyes bright and smile big.

Seeing her get so excited made his heart race. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because, you're—I—," (Y/N) couldn't contain herself as she pulled herself to his chest with a bubbly squeal, "You like me!"

"I do," he cemented with a breathy laugh, ducking his head down until the tip of his nose was skimming hers, "Can I take it that y'like me back?"

She nodded her head, hair fluttering around her face that had escaped from her clip, "So, so, so much!"

"Yeah?" he murmured, voice low and cooing, "Enough to let me kiss you?"

All it took was the bubbling nod of her head, nose nudging his in the process, before Harry stamped his lips against hers. It was clumsy with the way she struggled to keep from smiling, stop from squirming in her excitement, but Harry wouldn't have it any other way. She was his sweet girl, through and through.

"Will you stay home with me today?" (Y/N) peeped in between a slew of sweet pecks he dotted over her mouth, sipping on her taste, "I-I don't want you to leave when we just figured all this out, H."

"Give me one more kiss, then I need to make a phone call and tell someone 'm sick." The way (Y/N) smiled into their one last kiss had him running through what kind of faux-illness he could use to buy him a long weekend with her.

It was only made that much better when he heard her giggling laughter as he left the kitchen in search for his phone. Her scent bloomed around the house, imprinting her deep enough he hoped she'd never leave.

—————

this is def a little bit different for me ngl besties! I've never branched out into this kind of fic before so I really hope everyone enjoys! thank you all sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or requests of your own please send them in!!

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randomshyperson · 2 years

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Pretty Witch - Milf!Wanda Maximoff + Reader [Kinktober]

Summary: Your wife has been feeling a little insecure after giving birth. You don't hesitate to reassure her.

Warnings: (+18), fingering (Wanda r), praising, semi-public, some brief teasing and dirty talk, fluff. | Words: 905

A/N-> Not me writing mainly fluff when I'm supposed to be writing KINKtober. I can't say I'm sorry, Wanda just needs love.

Kinktober Collection | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

Wanda was taking some considerable time in the dressing room.

You and she were in the last booth of the costume store - For two technically retired Avengers, privacy was a hard thing to come by when in public, and you and she practically fled to the end of the store once the sweet saleswoman made sure no one was going to bother you.

But now, your lovely wife, after taking two or three costumes inside, was taking too long.

You stood up from the waiting bench and leaned your ear against the curtain.

"Is everything all right, dear?" You asked only to hear a sigh in return.

"Can you come in here for a minute?" Wanda retorted back sounding a little upset. You obeyed her immediately, opening the curtain just enough to fit the small space, a worried look searching for what was wrong.

But there was nothing. Wanda was there, in her red suit, looking really nice. It would be all good if it weren't for her tearful eyes.

"Babe, what is it?" you asked almost in despair, reaching up to bring your hands to her cheeks. She sniffled lightly.

"I look awful." She complained and it was so absurd that you let out a confused laugh.

"What?" you questioned but Wanda grumbled, hiding her face in your collarbone. Stroking her back for a moment, you waited.

"The pants don't fit, and my legs look weird. I have stretch marks from the pregnancy, and I'll never wear bikinis again." She blurts out at once, and you sigh, running a hand around her waist as you pull away to look her in the face.

"If the pants don't fit, we'll take a bigger number." You begin, and Wanda opens her mouth to protest, but with your gaze, she doesn't retort. "Clothes are made to fit us, Wands, not the other way around. Your legs don't look strange, they are beautiful, just like all of you. Your stretch marks are you, your history, you have them because you carried our children, there is nothing to be ashamed of. And by god, don't stop wearing bikinis, I have the best time of my life when we go to the beach."

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, biting back a smile at your last sentence. You hug her again, and when she pulls away, you kiss her cheeks and then the tip of her nose, making her giggle.

"You're beautiful, miláčik." You compliment, and despite her rosy cheeks, Wanda twitches her nose.

"Your sokovian is getting better." She comments, and you shrug, smiling.

"I have a great teacher." You recall, leaning in to kiss her for real now.

Wanda smiles into your lips as she corresponds, sighing a little when you deepen, your tongue asking for passage across her lower lip.

The kiss becomes a little needy, filled with small sighs until your hands come down and squeeze her ass hard, pressing your hips together.

Wanda chokes. "Someone might come in." She recalls affectedly, but you just deposit kisses on her jaw, moving down to her neck.

You give a particularly delicious hickey to the sensitive spot on her neck, and Wanda whimpers, her knees giving in.

Your hand slides to the middle of her legs, and she hides her head in your neck, hands gripping your shoulders tightly for support.

"Shush now, sweetheart, no one can know what we're doing, or we'll get in trouble." You whisper meekly against her ear, your fingers moving up her inner thighs until they find her covered center. Wanda chokes, and you hum in satisfaction at the moisture forming on the fabric. "Fuck, you're already dripping and I merely kissed you."

"Detka, please..." Wanda whimpered, and you both gasped as you followed her request without delay - pushing the fabric aside, you slid one finger inside, letting her get used to it first before pulling out and sliding two fingers at once into her tight pussy. Wanda stifled a moan with a bite on your shoulder, and you grunted against her ear as you felt her throbbing in your fingers.

You couldn't establish a rhythm inside her, however, because the next minute, footsteps approached from outside, and you slid your fingers out.

Wanda complained, but you raised your fingers to your own mouth and sucked them clean, taking away any ability for her to formulate a coherent sentence.

The female voice outside explained to her why your actions had been interrupted. "Is everything okay in there, darlings?" The curious saleswoman asked.

You raised your eyebrows at her, and Wanda cleared her throat, forcing herself to answer.

"Y-yeah, she's just helping me with the zipper." She lied, her voice trembling a little as you slid your fingers over the covering of her breasts.

"Oh, right, then. I'll get a bag for you two." Says the saleswoman, and you wait until her footsteps become distant again to bring your lips together again. But to Wanda's dissatisfaction, you give her no more than a quick peck.

"Pick something nice, baby. Easy to take off." You instruct against her lips, smiling mischievously when she shudders. "Or not, I can always rip it off you."

Wanda moans softly, closing her eyes at the image, and you pull away again before you lose control for good and end up being banned from your wife's favorite store for fucking her in the dressing room. Not that Wanda seems to mind.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #bottom!wanda #kinktober 2022

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petriquors · 1 year

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POV: someone joins you on the balcony

You hate that your boss made you attend this charity gala while she’s on vacation. It’s her job to rub elbows with Gotham’s elite, not yours, and she did nothing to prepare you for all this small talk before jetting off to Bali with her beau of the week.

You finish your drink and fantasize about quitting.

With their stifling conversations, stuffy outfits, and barely edible teeny portions of food, formal events like this are absolutely suffocating. All you need is a minute in the fresh air. So, toward the end of cocktail hour, you indulge in your compulsion to see if the balcony door you spotted earlier is unlocked.

It opens on the first try.

It’s not a particularly large balcony, but you’re grateful that there’s no one out here but you. You close the door gingerly, leaving behind the metaphorical veil that makes you look and act like the perfect party guest by obscuring everything about you that makes you a real person.

For a blissful interlude, it’s just you, the moonlight, and the distant sounds of the city. If you close your eyes, you think you can hear your real life: the subway, late night pizza, binge-watching a show on the sofa you got off of an online buy nothing group.

“Is this balcony taken?”

You quickly turn your head to see the man who just intruded on your solitude. He’s perfectly average in all the right ways—average height, nice athletic build, dark hair, blue eyes, a navy tuxedo so dark it’s almost black. There’s a certain air about him, a hint of the unknown, a something-special that you can’t quite name. It’s as if all his pieces, while unremarkable on their own, fit together to create a breathtakingly beautiful puzzle.

And, since he’s already halfway out the balcony door, something compels you to say, “There’s room for one more.”

He’s careful to close the door instead of letting it swing shut. While he does, he looks at his hand on the gleaming brass handle as if he’s mentally cataloging which parts of himself are staying in the ballroom and which are coming outside with him. After a moment, his arm goes lax, his hands slide into his pockets, and he steps into the moonlight beside you.

“I don’t know,” he says through a crooked smile. “There’s a whole lot of brooding out here. Are you sure there’s room?”

You give him a sidelong glance as the corners of your mouth pucker, fighting a smile. You’re supposed to be moping, not…whatever this is. “What do you have to brood about?”

He grips the railing of the balcony and leans back hips-first, stretching out his arms and craning his neck to look out over the city. His body’s here, but his mind is miles away, maybe even in another universe. “The debilitating weight of other people’s expectations, eldest child syndrome, and a pesky fear of commitment.”

There’s a beat of silence during which you just blink at him. Then, he glances at you and his crooked grin is back, but there’s something pensive underneath the easy smile. It’s impossible to tell if he’s being facetious or brutally honest, but there’s a darkness in his eyes that says he’s trying to laugh through the pain.

He breaks the silence with a chuckle. “Sorry. I shouldn’t only talk about myself. Why are you brooding all alone?”

You pluck the little name tag you’re supposed to be wearing out of the pocket you shoved it into. It has your boss’s name, not yours. “My boss is sipping cocktails on the beach with a man half her age, and I’m here.”

“Wow, that is such a universal experience,” he teases in a monotone. It’s then that you notice he’s not wearing a name tag either. “Why didn’t you just say no? You’re busy. You have the stomach flu. You have a phobia of weird canapés.”

That smile you’ve been holding back finally appears on your face. “Because of the debilitating weight of other people’s expectations and eldest child syndrome. Also, I need to pay my rent.”

He catches on to what you’re doing immediately. His eyes sparkle like the stars and his face brightens like the moon, reflecting the light that you’re giving off. “So you don’t have a pesky fear of commitment?”

Yes, you think. No. Maybe. Honestly, it’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone that you have no idea. What you do know is that something is happening to you on this balcony right now, and you hope it’s happening to him too.

Time seems to slow down, and both of you watch as his hand closest to you loosens, then shifts half an inch toward yours. You extend a pinky. He extends his in response, keeping only a centimeter of space between you like an unspoken promise.

You sense a kinship with him unlike what you’ve felt with anyone else tonight—or maybe ever—so you have to ask, “Who are you?”

Your mystery man presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek as if you’ve asked him what the meaning of life is. Deftly, he dodges the question. “The most exciting part of your night?”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan. “And does he have a name?”

His grin widens. “Yup.”

Your heartbeat quickens. He stares at you with an intensity that makes the cosmos quake, and you stare right back, speaking a thousand words while saying nothing at all.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he jokes, and you can’t believe that an overused pun makes you short with laughter. “I’m Dick Grayson. Now you: what should really be on that name tag?”

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #my stuff #my fluff #my dick grayson stuff #my dick grayson fluff #my batfamily stuff #my batfamily fluff

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atzloverr · 2 months

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chapter 3 - selfish desire

Masterlist of selfish desire

You felt your eyelids slowly getting heavier, as you rested your head on Wooyoung’s shoulder. “Yeosang, turn on the news, will you?” Wooyoung said to his roomate. You had decided to spend the night at Wooyoung’s place, and the two of you had just finished watching a movie.

The news started playing on the TV, and just as you felt yourself drifting into sleep, you heard something that made your head snap up.

“…recent news on Jeong Yunho’s disappearance,” the news-lady spoke. Yeosang sat down beside you on the couch, listening attentively. The lack of progress with the search for him made you frustrated to say the least. “The student was last seen on his way home from a friend’s house, on october 2nd, around 10pm.” You heard Yeosang sigh next to you. “This isn’t new information! Why aren’t they making any progress?” he asked, clearly frustrated with the situation. You could only hum in agreement.

Every time they mentioned Yunho on the news, they said the same things. You were filled with hope every time his name popped up. Hope that someone found him, and that he was safe. You ended up equally disappointed every time. “You guys met him before, right?” Yeosang asked you and Wooyoung. “Yeah, he’s in our literature class,” Wooyoung explained, earning a nod from Yeosang.

You thought about Yunho’s disappearance more than you would like to admit. You didn’t know him personally, but the whole thing just seemed so… weird to you.

(flashback)

You bit your lip anxiously. You just couldn’t stop thinking about it. The thought of what could’ve happened to him made it hard for you to sleep at night. It was particularly hard to keep your mind off of it here, in the classroom, where you would see him every week. From your spot in the back, you could get a clear view of the students in the room. Yunho was no exception. He sat diagonally from you, so you would often spot him, laughing with his friends happily.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a tap on your shoulder. Seonghwa looked at you with a worried look. The two of you were working on your report, as usual. “Oh, sorry if I zoned out…” you apologized, trying to focus on the assignment. Seonghwa had this thing, where he would write instead of talking. Another thing that you didn’t understand about him. You read the note he held up in front of you.

What’s on your mind?

You sighed and lowered your voice slightly. “It’s the whole Yunho thing,” you explained. Seonghwa’s eyes widened slightly. “I can’t stop thinking about what might’ve happened to him, you know?”

Seonghwa nodded. “The whole situation kind of, puts me on edge,” you explained.

Seonghwa wrote another note as you rambled about your thoughts. “He really was a sweet guy, don’t you think?” you asked, almost getting emotional. Seonghwa nodded with a sad expression before showing you another note.

Don’t worry too much about it. I’m sure he’s fine.

The words on the paper startled you. He’s sure he’s fine? What is that supposed to mean?

(end of flashback)

“(Y/N)!” someone said, startling you awake. “Good morniiiing!” Wooyoung said, trying to sound cute. You burrowed your face in the pillow, whining.

You finally realized that you were now in a bed, not in the couch, where you probably fell asleep.

“How-“ you started. “Yeosang carried you here, he’s strong you know. I could never,” Wooyoung said. “Hey!” you shouted, annoyed at the last part of his sentence. “I’m not saying that you’re heavy, I really just, wouldn’t bother carrying you,” he laughed. “That’s not any better!” you yelled at him, before he ran out of the room giggling.

You looked at the clock, realizing that you should probably get up about now, considering the class you had in an hour. As you sat up in bed, you were hit by a pang of stress. The assignment was due tomorrow!

You didn’t really have any reason to be worried, considering how well things had gone for you and Seonghwa, but the thought of it still made your heart beat faster. Was everything really done?

You always ended up like this. Stressed in the last minute. You picked up your phone, your thoughts immediately going to Seonghwa. Maybe he could meet today? You felt the need to do some last minute fixes on your report.

Without really thinking it through, you pressed on his contact and called him. As you heard the first few beeps, you panicked. This wasn’t Wooyoung! You couldn’t just call him whenever. Maybe Seonghwa didn’t feel comfortable talking on the phone? considering his quiet nature. You stressed, but suddenly you heard a voice in your ear.

“Hello?” his deep voice echoed. You sat there in silence for a few seconds, not knowing what to say.

“Hello? (Y/N), is this you?” he asked. You cleared your throat. “Oh, yes this i-is me. I was just wondering if-“ you started. Suddenly, you heard another male voice coming from your phone. “Are you talking to me, love?” the voice asked from a distance.

You blinked. What? You wondered if it had been your imagination. “What were you saying?” Seonghwa asked. Maybe it was your imagination. “Oh uh, just if you wanted to meet up today? The deadline is tomorrow after all,” you said. There was a pause before Seonghwa spoke up. “Yes, that’s a great idea! How about we go to the spider lily again?” he suggested. You smiled slightly. “Sure, when are you free?” you asked.

“(Y/N), you coming or what?” Wooyoung yelled from the kitchen. “Yes, in a minute!” you yelled back. “I’m sorry about that,” you apologized into the phone. Seonghwa stayed silent for a moment, but then continued your previous conversation. “I’m a little… busy today, so how about tonight? Like, 6 o’clock?” he suggested. You thought about it. “Sure! I’m pretty sure the spider lily is open at that time! I’ll meet you there then!” you said, feeling happy that you made plans. “Of course. Make sure you don’t get lost this time,” Seonghwa teased.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“I thought he was mute or something,” Wooyoung said before taking a bite out of his toast. “Well, apparently he talks at home,” you sighed. “Sooo, you’re going on a little date tonight, huh?” Wooyound teased, nudging your shoulder. You laughed. “Woo, I think he’s gay,” you explained. “And taken.”

Your best friend audibly gasped at that. “No way! Why do you think that?” he asked, clearly very interested in Seonghwa’s sexuality and relationship status. “He earlier mentioned living with someone ‘special to him’,” you started. Yeosand sat down at the table, deciding to listen in on the conversation. “And when we were on the phone, there was a guy calling him love in the background,” you said, smiling.

You were happy to finally find something out about your mysterious partner. “Oh my god,” Wooyoung said. “It’s really not that big of a deal,” Yeosang said, looking at Wooyoung’s shocked expression. You nodded in agreement. “Whatever,” you said before changing the topic.

“How’s your project going, Woo?” you asked. “It’s going okay. We’re a pretty solid group, but nothing special really,” he said. You mindlessly checked your phone, and saw the clock. “Shit! We’re going to be late!” you exclaimed.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Seonghwa, darling, please just breathe,” Hongjoong said while holding his lover. “What if- if she finds out, and she tells her friend that, that Wooyoung guy-“

Seonghwa rambled with panic in his voice. “Listen to me,” Hongjoong soothed. “She won’t find out, okay? I admit she’s smart, but she’s not that bright,” Hongjoong laughed.

Seonghwa pouted slightly as he looked at his smiling lover. “And if she were to find out…” Hongjoong said, tilting his head. “We’ll just have to reschedule her… arrival,” he smiled. Seonghwa nodded, having finally calmed down.

“Now, I believe we have to make sure our lovely darling remembers how much we truly love him, hm?” Hongjoong said. “After all, he’s been so obedient all week.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You hummed along to the tune in your headphones as you made your way to the cafe. You were a little early, but you wouldn’t mind waiting for Seonghwa to arrive. As you got closer to your meeting spot, you were shocked to notice something.

He had already arrived. Despite you being fifteen minutes early, there he stood, wearing that same coat he had so kindly lended to you that cold day. You could remember when you gave it back to him. He tried to refuse it, wanting you to keep it, but you insisted that he took back his jacket.

As you came closer, you noticed something off about the cafe. There were no people in there, and the lights weren’t on. “Hey Seonghwa!” you greeted him. As you went to the door, you saw a sign.

Closed due to staff shortage.

You looked at Seonghwa with a sad look. “No way!” you said, crossing your arms. Seonghwa gave you a look of sympathy. “Where are we supposed to go now?” you asked yourself. Sometimes, talking to Seonghwa was basically just talking to yourself. Well, except for those very few times when he decided to talk.

You sighed heavily, feeling the cold air already biting at your skin. At least this time, you had brought a jacket. “Well… we could always go to my place,” you suggested shyly. “I-if you’re comfortable with that, of course.”

Seonghwa didn’t answer for a few moments, and luckily for him, you didn’t dare to look at him. You didn’t catch the way his eyes lit up at your request. He tapped your shoulder and you turned around to look at him. He nodded with a wide smile on his face. “Okay, great then! I’ll lead you to the bus station!”

The bus ended up being crowded like never before. Perhaps it was all the people ending their 9-5 jobs on their way home. Due to the large number of people, you ended up having to stand, really close to Seonghwa. Hence the reason you were a blushing mess at this point. You looked away from Seonghwa’s face, not wanting him to see you in your current state. You desperately tried to not bump into him every time the bus came to a halt. He however, was not making the same effort.

You’ll be there soon, you’ll be there soon, you repeated in your head. You mustered up all the courage you needed, and looked up at Seonghwa. Surprisingly, he was smiling. A part of you thought he would be uncomfortable in a place like this, but you must’ve read him wrong. “We’re getting off at this next stop,” you said. He nodded, and you immediately looked away. Deep breaths (Y/N), deep breaths.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Seonghwa smiled as you showed him around in your apartment. He found it so cute when you gave him your little tour, as if he had never seen your apartment before. Hongjoong had been here more times than him, but he’s well aware of the layout of your apartment.

“So yeah, I guess that’s it,” you said after showing Seonghwa around. “I know it’s nothing flashy, but now we have a place to study at least,” you smiled. The two of you sat down by the coffee table in your living room when a thought suddenly made you raise to your feet. “Would you like anything to drink? maybe some tea?” you asked. Seonghwa looked up at you and smiled. “Tea would be nice. Thank you (Y/N),” he said. You swear your heart skipped a beat when you heard that soft voice. It was a pity he kept quiet most of the time.

Working on the report went smoothly, and luckily, Seonghwa was in his talkative mood today. Outside, the rain had started to pour down. “Hey, Seonghwa?” He perked his head up. “How far away do you live?” you asked, with the weather in mind. He blinked, and looked away. “It’s not that far. If you’re worrying about the weather, I’ll be fine,” he reassured you.

You still found his secrecy suspicious. You figured he was just a very private person, but it still bothered you a bit. After working together for almost two weeks, you had expected him to open up to you more. You felt like you were the only one sharing stories about your everyday life, hell, you even invited him to your apartment.

“How are you going to get home?” In all honesty, you just wanted to make sure he got home safe. Whenever someone mentioned going home late, your thoughts just wandered to Yunho. You could never forgive yourself if you let that happen to someone. “I uh, I have a ride,” he answered, not sounding very sure of himself.

“Is it your boyfriend?” you threw out. You admit, you might’ve been a bit too curious for your own good. Seonghwa’s cheeks heated up, and you could tell he was flustered from your question. “Uh- I, uh,” he tried to form an answer. You giggled at his shyness. “It’s okay Seonghwa, you don’t have to explain yourself,” you smiled.

Seonghwa was panicking inside. So you did hear Hongjoong on the phone. What if this would scare you off? Make you like him less? “What makes you think I have a boyfriend?” Seonghwa asked, trying to sound as cool as possible, hiding the fact that he was having an inner crisis. “Well, you told me you live with someone ‘special to you’, so I just assumed it was a partner,” you started. “And, I heard a guy calling you l-love today on the phone,” you admitted, feeling shy all of a sudden.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What would Hongjoong want me to say? Should I lie? Tell her the truth?

Seonghwa unknowingly started breathing faster, as his eyes went all over the place. You noticed his change in behavior, and quickly asked him what was wrong. It was like he couldn’t hear you. He was panicking. “Hey, hey,” you tried to calm him down, but his breathing only quickened more and more.

You went to the other side of the table and grabbed his shoulders. You rubbed them, still trying to get through to him.

Hongjoong will get mad. (Y/N) will hate me, we’ll never make her love us. She’ll find out about everything, she’ll hate us. She’ll hate me. Hongjoong will hate me.

Suddenly seonghwa snapped out of it, and realized the position he was in. You were cradling him in your arms, rocking him from side to side slowly. Your hushed him, and he finally felt his breath slow down. Being in your arms made him forget about everything. It was like all those problems didn’t exist anymore. Now it was all you. He loved you so much. He couldn’t hold back anymore, as he threw his arms around you and cried into your shoulder.

A part of him felt as if he had betrayed his one true love, because in this moment, he felt safer than he had ever felt before.

next chapter

complete Masterlist

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #seonghwa #hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #wooyoung #yandere ateez #yandere x reader #yandere #ateez x y/n #selfish desire

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starrydixon · 1 year

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Restless

*Requested from this ask :)*

Era: Prison Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: language, anxiety, nightmares, brief descriptions of typical twd violence/gore, comfort-fluff!!

Summary: After another nightmare startles you awake in the middle of the night, you find it hard to fall back to sleep. Your boyfriend Daryl comes to the rescue when he senses your spot beside him in bed is empty.

“You should be sleepin’.” Daryl drawled as his gravelly voice sounded from the doorway behind you as you stood outside on the bridge that connected one cellblock to another.

“I’m sorry for waking you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, mental and physical exhaustion making you too weary to sound any louder.

Although you didn't directly wake Daryl up when you snuck out of your shared cell, despite him being a notoriously light sleeper, the archer seemed to have a sixth sense about you and only awoke when his subconscious didn’t feel you beside him anymore. Daryl wasn’t surprised when he rolled over and only felt a cold mattress under his hand after blindly searching for your figure in the dark.

“Don’t gotta be.” Daryl quickly dismissed as he shuffled over so he was standing beside you. Wordlessly, he handed you a cup of water that he knew you needed. You always got cottonmouth after being awoken from a nightmare, and often neglected the task of getting yourself some water so you could relieve the dryness in your throat.

“You rarely sleep, and I woke you up.” You insisted after taking a few gracious sips of the refreshing water. Your head ducked in shame and your posture slumped in defeat when you thought back to the image of Daryl’s sleeping figure snoring into his pillow only a few moments ago.

“Was probably gonna wake up anyway from my own hellish mind, so I should be thankin’ ya for sparin’ me the trouble.” Daryl glanced over at you as a half smile lifted one corner of his mouth. He was unsure if his attempt at comforting you worked, judging by the worry line that only seemed to deepen between your furrowed eyebrows.

A bittersweet silence fell over you both as you looked out at the darkened landscape of the prison yard and shadowy trees that lined the woods in the distance. Through the holes of the wired fence in front of you, your gaze would occasionally skim over the darkened outlines of the lifeless walkers as they stalked around the most outer fence. If you strained your hearing just enough, you could make out their groans and snarls. You tried to ignore their burdening presence as much as possible.

“What was it about this time?” Daryl lightly prodded; not wanting to upset you and make you even more uncomfortable than you already were, but still wanting to give you the chance to open up if you chose too.

“Those dead assholes over there.” You scoffed while pointing an accusing finger at the walkers that lined the fence. “I’m pretty sure I was just about to get torn to bits before waking up.”

Before the end of the world happened, going to sleep was a way for you to escape from the daily stresses of your once domestic life. Although it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, it worked for you. After coming home from a particularly demanding work shift, you’d often take a nap the second your head hit the pillow of your couch. If you had the type of day that required you to be on your feet all day, you’d look forward to the moment you’d be able to sleep the stress away in the comfort of your bed.

The escape that sleep once gave you was now taken away, thanks to the apocalypse. The horror, anxiety, and daily stress that came with living in a corrupt world didn’t leave you even when you slept. It haunted your consciousness during the day, and infiltrated your dreams whenever you managed to get a couple of hours of shuteye. Your dreams were no longer filled with weird scenarios that often made you laugh for the few moments you could remember them whenever you awoke in the morning. All you knew now were nightmares that seemed far too plausible for your liking.

Some nights you’d dream about your new found family getting eaten by walkers: hearing their pained and desperate pleas for help that your dream prevented you from giving them. Other times, you’d dream about their walkerfied corpses chasing you, trying to tear your flesh apart in order to satisfy their indefinite hunger. Most nights though, you’d dream about the Governor. His voice haunted you as he spoke of his bloodlust for your family. You could vividly see him breaking down the protective fences surrounding the prison as he came back for vengeance. Just before you awoke, the last thing that would be engraved in your mind’s eye would be the bloodbath the dictator would leave in his wake.

The gruesome and haunting images of walkers and the Governor isn’t what scared you the most, it was the fear of losing the ones you loved.

You would often fight sleep for as long as you could, just so you could avoid those poignant dreams. This resulted in you volunteering to take the nightly watch shift. You took as many shifts as you could, which was a lot since a majority of the people who lived in the prison were more than willing to give their shift to you. That coping mechanism got shut down before it even had the chance to start, since Daryl quickly caught wind of your extensive nightly shift-load. In a rare move, the archer had personally reported to the board to demand that they restrict the number of shifts you could take in a week.

Daryl didn’t push matters, as he often let you come to him when you were ready to talk about whatever it was that was bothering you. However, he cared about your well being tremendously and grew concerned when he began to notice just how dark and heavy the circles and bags under your eyes were getting. You couldn’t be mad at the archer for too long, since his attentiveness was quite endearing.

Whenever you did manage to fall asleep, a distressing nightmare would commonly wake you up with a start a few hours later. Much like tonight, your eyes would dart around every wall and dark corner that made up your tiny cell like a ritual, and you would struggle to differentiate between what was fiction and reality due to the disorienting fog that clouded your brain.

From the cold sweat you had accumulated while you slept, your mismatched pajama set stuck to your body like glue; drenched and causing chills to wrack through your bones. Your body would still be in fight or flight mode, adrenaline surging through your veins and causing anxiety to keep you from finding sleep once again.

Daryl didn’t know how to respond. Everything he thought of saying would only make him sound like a broken record. You knew you were safe within the prison walls, and that walkers wouldn’t get to you unless you ventured outside the protective fences. You knew that Daryl would do everything in his power to protect you from harm if it ever came your way. You knew that he, Michonne, and yourself were going above and beyond to try to find the governor and take him down once and for all.

The only thing Daryl could do was wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you into his warm chest. You practically melted into his touch, your achy muscles going limp as you basked in his comforting embrace. No words had to be said between you two during times like these; his presence was enough to calm you down and make the looming aftershocks of your nightmare become still once again.

“I wish it got easier…living like this.” You admitted in a whisper as your gaze drifted back towards the dark prison yard.

Daryl could relate to what you were feeling, he felt it too. It was hard not to. A pang shot through his chest in empathy. “It ain’t supposed to be…if we don’t feel it, then we’re just as bad as those assholes out there.” Daryl expressed earnestly after a few moments of stilled silence had passed.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you pried your eyes away from the looming figures of the walkers that swayed in the distance and hid your face in Daryl’s chest.

“What do ya wanna do?” Daryl asked gently as he adjusted his chin against your head. His large hand rubbed soothing strides up and down your arm before moving to your back.

“I don’t know.” You admitted with your eyes closed. Your body was practically screaming at you to go to sleep, as the exhaustion was threatening to forcibly knock you unconscious. You didn’t know if you were ready to reface the daunting shadows that made up your tiny cell and practically suffocated you every time you laid down for the night.

Swallowing the lump that was beginning to form in your throat, you lifted your head up from Daryl’s broad chest just enough to look at his moonlit face. “Would you make fun of me if I lit a candle?”

“What, like a nightlight?” Daryl raised an eyebrow as he glanced down at you. His heart simultaneously broke and swelled at the sight of the pout that contorted your fatigued face.

“Sort of.” You mumbled in embarrassment while ducking your eyes from him. Letting out a chuckle, Daryl tightened his arms around your body.

“Nah, I won’t make fun of ya…at least not tonight.”

Groaning in embarrassment at his goading, you weakly whacked Daryl in the chest with your open palm. You could feel heat rush to the tips of your ears and the apples of your cheeks at your rather juvenile request. With your head still laid on Daryl’s chest, you turned so your gaze fell back onto the darkened prison yard for one last lingering glance.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Daryl kept his arm wrapped over your shoulders as he led you back into the cellblock and into the dank and small cell you now called home. Although you avoided looking at him as you struck a match to light the candle that sat on the nightstand, you knew Daryl was smirking at you; and most likely having hundreds of teasing remarks burning the tip of his tongue.

With a sigh, you slipped out of your slippers and set your hunting knife back on the nightstand before getting into bed. Daryl already had an arm open for you, waiting for the moment you’d scoot yourself into his side and rest your head on his chest. The archer didn’t mind when you spent the next few moments squirming around beside him, struggling to find a comfortable position that wouldn’t flare up your sensitive anxiety. When you did find that sweet spot, your muscles relaxed as you let the feeling of Daryl’s soothing heartbeat settle your heightened nerves.

“Thank you.” You murmured into the material of Daryl’s cotton black t-shirt after a few moments of comfortable silence had passed.

“For?” Daryl was genuinely unsure about what you were thankful for as he couldn’t recall doing anything within the last twenty minutes or so that was worthy of gratitude.

You felt the pads of Daryl’s calloused fingers trail up and down your spine and occasionally massage your scalp, not only bringing you comfort, but for himself as well. Your fingers traced random designs on the expanse of his chest as you thought of a way to accurately express what you were feeling and thinking.

“For helping me.” You stated simply before lifting your head up slightly so you could peer up at him. Daryl scoffed lightly at your notion before tightening his arms around your frame. Your eyes closed as he placed a kiss on your hairline.

“Told ya it’s nothin’,” Pausing, Daryl looked down at you and raised his hand to gently sweep a few strands of loose hair from out of your face. “It don’t matter what time of day or night it is, I’ll always be here for ya…you know that.”

You didn’t know if it was the sleep deprivation, the crash that followed the adrenaline rush you had, or both, but your eyes began to pool with salty tears that stung the corners of your eyes. Daryl’s thumb caressed over your cheek and you found yourself melting into the comforting touch. Nodding your head in acknowledgment, you leaned forwards and placed a gentle kiss on Daryl’s lips. The archer found himself holding the back of your neck more securely so he could deepen the kiss as a way to wordlessly express to you how much he meant what he had previously stated.

Soon, when the kiss you two shared had simmered down, you settled back down against Daryl’s chest and watched the dim light of the candle flicker against the concrete walls that surrounded you. Daryl’s hand resumed its soothing motions on your back. The longer you laid like that, basking in the safety that Daryl’s arms gave you, impending sleep began to loom over you.

When you heard Daryl whisper the three words that always filled your heart with warmth and caused your stomach to flutter, you allowed sleep to overcome you with a smile uplifting the corners of your mouth.

A/N: Thank you to the anon for this request! I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!❤️

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

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katakaluptastrophy · 9 months

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We've heard the story about the young woman living under imperial oppression conceiving an unusual baby with god, but what happens after that?

The local potentate gets twitchy about succession and engages in a spot of mass child murder, of course!

It's the fourth day of Christmas, aka the Feast of the Holy Innocents, and it's time for more weird Bible study for goth lesbians!

A quick refresher on the Christmas story: following some hotel over-booking shenanigans, baby Jesus is born in a stable and after singing angels turn up to chivvy them along, is welcomed by some shepherds. A little while later, three enigmatic wise men from the East turn up with some rather odd baby gifts, having been led to Jesus by a star.

While cash, liturgical incense, and embalming ointment feel like they'd be considered practical new baby gifts on the Ninth, Gideon doesn't get such fanfare with her arrival. Just a few geriatric nuns who only manage to necromantically scrounge up a name between them.

However, by toddlerhood Jesus and Gideon are on a rather more equal level: people are trying to kill them.

In Jesus' case, it's the local king, Herod the Great ("the Great" is perhaps best read in the same way as "Democratic Republic" or "gentlemen's club"). Herod was a client king, ruling on behalf of the Roman empire. The wise men stop to ask him for directions and Herod is non-plussed to say the least, because prophecies of the birth of great kings who will deliver their people from oppression are not great news if your job depends on said oppression. Handily, the wise men are warned in a dream not to tell Herod where they found Jesus and they go home a different way to avoid having to see him again.

But since Herod knows the general time and location of Jesus' birth, he decides it's better to be safe than sorry and has every boy under two murdered. (It should be noted that historical accounts other than the Bible, while generally agreed that he was a bit of a shit, do not mention this). Mary and Joseph had also conveniently been warned in a dream and left town before the unfortunate incident.

If this story sounds familiar, it's because it's not the only political baby murder incident in the Bible: you may also recognise elements of it from the story of Moses in Exodus.

Meanwhile, Harrow's parents are also rulers of a small but significant province of an empire, whose power is threatened. Though in their case, the issue is not a birth but the total lack thereof. With necromantic fertility issues and approaching menopause threatening to end the line of Anastasia, they murder 200 under-19s to generate enough death juice to ensure a necromantic fetus in what must have been one of the worst date nights on record. This incident is also not widely reported, in their case likely due to their ability to necromantically bind people's tongues.

Gideon, of course, is probably not actually spared in Pluto's own Massacre of the Innocents. But she handily does not stay dead, thus escaping the fate of her fellows. As with Jesus, being god's child has its perks.

Churches that celebrate the Holy Innocents understand them to be among the first martyrs, often considering them saints who have the power to intercede with God, particularly in situations involving babies and children. That is, a collective group of infants (6-144,000 of them, depending on who you ask) have the ability to impact outcomes across time and space.

What metaphysical impact those 200 Ninth infants imprinted on Harrow's soul might have on the outcome of Alecto the Ninth remains to be seen...

#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt meta #pelleamena novenarius #priamhark noniusvianus #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav

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thetomorrowshow · 4 months

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learning curve

empires superpowers au masterlist (not up to date)

this story takes place during chapters 10 & 11 of ‘poisoned rats’.

cw: anxiety, blood and injury

Scott calls out that he’s home as soon as he arrives, careful to close the door softly.

It’s been nearly a month, but it’s still weird to have another person living in his house. Particularly since that person is Solidarity.

He doesn’t get a response, but he doesn’t expect one. Solidarity is just as quiet as the day he’d arrived. Scott tries not to think about that too much.

Scott’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t notice for a while. He goes about his afternoon, doing laundry and his post-work stretches and watching TV.

It’s not until he’s getting ready to prepare dinner that he actually approaches the closed door of the guest bedroom, knocking lightly on the door.

“Jimmy?” he calls quietly. “Would you like to help with dinner?”

No response.

Scott chews on his lip. “Okay, um. If you don’t want me to open the door, say something. I’m just coming in to make sure you’re all right.”

After another moment’s pause with no response, he eases the door open, sidles in.

Jimmy’s not there.

It isn’t hard for him to tell—there’s barely anything in the room, all the clothes put away neatly and the bed made. The spot between the bed and the wall that Jimmy likes to wedge himself into is empty as well.

Okay, no need to panic yet. Jimmy’s fairly new to using the home gym, so maybe he’s just checking out the equipment.

A glance in the gym tells him all he needs to know.

Still, it doesn’t mean he’s—he hasn’t been kidnapped. He hasn’t been kidnapped. He’s safe.

Scott heads into the kitchen, checking around for evidence that Jimmy’s been there. And once he’s looking, it isn’t hard to find.

The lunchmeat is out on the counter. The dishes cabinet is open, but there’s nothing new in the sink or the dishwasher. Scott looks around, checks the fridge, the other cabinets, the trash—

There’s something in the trash.

There’s shards of china in the trash, some of them dark with something red and wet.

The pieces fall into place.

Jimmy had broken a plate, panicked, and ran. Scott knows it with a certainty that surprises him, so he checks the shoes by the door just to make sure and immediately notices that Jimmy’s are missing.

His phone is plugged in at his bedside. His shoes are gone. There’s blood on the china in the trash and Jimmy is missing.

Scott’s tearing out the front door practically before his mask is firmly on his face.

It’s luck, more than anything, that at the end of the street he picks the right direction and within minutes can pull up to the side of the road, where a familiar figure in a grey hoodie is curled up against a lamppost.

“Jimmy!” Scott calls out the open window, trading out his mask for a beanie without even checking to see if anyone’s watching. Traffic’s bad at this time of the day, and already there are people angry about having to go around his car, but he hops out anyway and jogs around to the sidewalk.

“Jimmy,” he says again, and he doesn’t grab him by the arms but almost does— “Jimmy, are you all right?”

Jimmy flinches away, his hands curled loosely in front of him—and they’re absolutely covered in blood—

“Get in the car, okay?” Scott says, glancing around. Nobody’s paying much attention to them, they’re still in the wealthy part of the city with less folks out on the streets, but he’s pulled over on a major road so he needs to get Jimmy out. “We can disinfect this and wrap your hands up, all right? You’re not in trouble, I promise. Can you get in the car?”

Jimmy nods after a moment, allowing Scott to lead him back to the car. Scott buckles him in and shuts the passenger door, taking only a moment to rub his face. It’s okay. He found Jimmy. Everything’s going to turn out fine.

He keeps telling himself that on the silent drive home.

“Sorry,” whispers Jimmy when Scott sits him down in the bathroom, snapping open the first aid kit.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s all right,” Scott says absentmindedly, unscrewing the cap of the rubbing alcohol and dousing a cotton ball with it. Jimmy sniffs, eyeing him carefully, his face streaked with tears and his hands still held gingerly in front of him.

“I’m going to clean your hands, then wrap them in gauze. Is there anywhere else you’re hurt?”

Jimmy shakes his head. Slowly, he uncurls his fingers, splaying his hands out for Scott to see.

It’s not as bad as he’d feared when he’d first seen blood streaming down his knuckles. There’s one large gash in the center of Jimmy’s right palm, and a couple of smaller ones with little slivers of china stuck in them, but all the other cuts littering his fingers and palms are tiny and shallow.

Scott disinfects first, telling Jimmy everything before he does it. He’s going to be patting it with this cotton ball first, and it might sting a bit, but it’s going to help, okay? Now that that’s done, he’s going to press a little harder to wipe away the blood. Is everything still all right? Does he need to slow down?

Forcefully, Scott’s reminded of a night from so long ago, when a heavily bleeding and injured Solidarity had collapsed on his doorstep. He’d been less gentle in his administrations, then.

It keeps Scott up at night more often than he’d like to admit. If he’d let Jimmy stay longer, would he have learned more about Xornoth’s abuse? Would he have felt motivated to track down the villain and take them out before more damage could be done? Could he have saved Jimmy so much unnecessary pain, just by being a kinder person?

“I’m going to use tweezers now, okay? There’s some splinters I think I can get out.”

Jimmy nods, and as Scott watches, his face . . . settles, in some strange way. The tears brimming at his eyes vanish, his mouth sets into a determined line.

It’s unsettling, and Scott’s not quite sure what it means, but if it helps Jimmy brave the treatment, he’s fine with it.

Jimmy’s hands flinch back a couple of times as Scott digs into the cuts with the tweezers, plucking out slivers of porcelain until he has a small, bloodstained pile of them on the corner of the sink. Once the wounds look totally de-splintered, he wipes them down again with rubbing alcohol then wraps them in gauze.

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy says again when he’s almost done. Instead of his automatic response of earlier, Scott pauses to consider that.

“What are you apologizing for?” he asks eventually, because while he’s pretty sure he knows what it is—breaking the plate—he’s not sure Jimmy understands that it’s something forgivable.

But Jimmy, surprisingly, doesn’t mention the plate. “Lying,” he says, and his face doesn’t break. His eyes don’t water. But something changes in the quality of his voice, some terrified edge to it. “I lied to you. I’m sorry.”

“What did you lie about?”

“I—I told you I could control it,” says Jimmy. “Back at—at the hospital. That my powers—I could control them. But I can’t. I—I wasn’t even touching the plate, it just—I don’t know what happened—”

Scott tapes off the end of the gauze, then sits on the side of the tub, doing his best to look into Jimmy’s eyes without forcing him. Jimmy’s biting his lip, hands shaking, looking for all the world like he’s about to bolt.

“It’s just a plate,” Scott says, trying in some way to convey the fact that he doesn’t care what Jimmy breaks, he’s not going to kick him out.

Jimmy shakes his head, quick and repetitive. “It’s just a plate today. It’s—it’s the doorknob tomorrow, and your car the day after, and then it’s your leg or—or—” he cuts himself off, swallowing thickly. “It’s—it’s nothing. Forget it.”

And before Scott can stop him, Jimmy rises on shaky legs and leaves the room, arms clutched around himself.

It’s times like these that Scott really misses Aeor.

He’s never taught anyone this kind of thing. He’s never even seen anyone else be taught—and his lessons in control had been far later than most might receive them.

But he decides to start with Jimmy the same way Aeor had started with him—proving that his mistakes aren’t harmful.

Scott’s hand hovers over the dishes in the cabinet. A stack of nine dinner plates, once ten. Five bowls. Eight dessert plates. Four mugs, four saucers.

He never uses half the stuff, particularly not the mugs and saucers—he’s bought his own, more casual mugs in recent years. And a quick internet search shows him that he could replace the entire set for relatively cheap, though they wouldn’t be identical.

The main issue is that these are dishes that came from Aeor. Dishes that he used.

It only takes a second for Scott to come to the conclusion that Aeor would prefer these dishes be put to use to help someone, rather than gather dust in the cabinet.

So Scott piles all of the dishes in the backyard, just beyond his little flower garden. He’s got a decent-sized backyard with a privacy fence, which he thinks will do quite nicely. If they stand on the patio, the fence isn’t too far away, yet not right in their faces. Still, a bit of protective gear is in order.

He manages to scrounge up two pairs of safety glasses and three pairs of work gloves in the garage, all of which he sets out next to the dishes on the patio. Then he turns the oven on, sets a frozen pizza to cook, and heads upstairs to find Jimmy.

Scott knocks gently on the door. “Jimmy? Can I talk to you?”

What feels like ages passes with no sound. Scott’s poised to knock again, mind racing through various possibilities—did he run again? Is he hurt?—before he hears movement inside.

It’s still another full minute before the door opens, revealing a rather miserable-looking Jimmy.

His hair is all rumpled, like he hasn’t gotten out of bed all day. His t-shirt is half tucked into his jeans, half sticking out under his hoodie. The constant shadows under his eyes have only deepened, ringing the redness that rims them. The tip of his nose is red to match, and he sniffles as he stands there, waiting for Scott to speak.

Scott clears his throat, takes a slight step back (he doesn’t want Jimmy to feel like he has no personal space). “Um, I started on dinner, but I was hoping I could have your help with something? In the backyard?”

It’s an agonizingly long moment that Jimmy takes to think it over, but eventually he bites his lip and nods, rocking back on his heels as he waits for Scott to lead the way.

Scott does so, pausing by the front door so that Jimmy can slip on his shoes, then leads him out the back.

“I don’t want you to ever feel unsafe here, all right?” Scott begins, putting on a pair of safety glasses. Jimmy stares at the glasses, the gloves, and the dishes, before cautiously taking the other pair, eyes flicking up toward Scott every so often.

“I accidentally froze something when I was seventeen, and my parents kicked me out. I always thought that was just the way it was—I had to be perfect with my powers, always, and my lack of control was . . . well, I spent a long time hating myself for those accidents.”

Scott pulls on his work gloves, still stained with dirt from the last time he tended his garden. Jimmy surveys the two remaining pairs before choosing the larger ones, biting his lip as he gingerly pulls them on over his bandaged hands.

“I didn’t figure out until—or, Aeor taught me—” Jimmy flinches at the name, but Scott carries on— “that you’re expected to make mistakes. Nobody knows how to control their powers at first. It’s a . . . it’s a learning curve, see?”

Jimmy shrugs. And that’s fine—Scott’s fairly sure it’s a quiet day. It’s just difficult to work with at the moment. He just barely restrains from pinching the bridge of his nose, remembering at the last second that he’s wearing dirty work gloves. How had Aeor ever managed this with teenage Scott?

“From what I understand,” says Scott, “you couldn’t control your powers until . . . recently. And now, you’re thinking that maybe you can’t, because you used them accidentally?”

Jimmy looks away, throat bobbing. He shrugs again.

“Right. So, first of all, this is normal. It’s sort of like—like you’re going through puberty again, okay? You’re going through the learning-to-control stage for the first time, so you’re going to mess up. It happens. I messed up so many times—I used to freeze over the floor when I was angry. I used to be terrible at control, but I just needed someone to help.”

Hopefully that part of the lesson has gotten through to Jimmy. He’s observed, in the month that Jimmy’s been here, that even on quiet days he’s listening more often than not. Scott sucks in a breath, hoping that some air will loosen the stressed knot in his chest, and picks up a bowl.

“So, mistakes are really common. And, Jimmy, I don’t really . . . understand your power, I guess, but things are going to break while you learn how to control. And I just . . . I want to make sure you know it’s okay. It’s okay to break things, okay?”

And with that, Scott chucks the bowl at the fence at the other end of the yard.

It collides with a smash, shards of porcelain flying apart at the impact. Jimmy takes a startled step back, reminding Scott wildly of a spooked horse.

He acts like he doesn’t notice, though, instead handing Jimmy a dinner plate.

Jimmy glances at him, unsure, as he takes it. Scott smiles in a way that he hopes is encouraging, points to the fence.

“Go for it. Don’t hold back.”

Jimmy’s certainly holding back when he throws the plate, but it breaks anyhow, snapping in half against the fence. Scott hears him gasp, but when he looks back at him, Jimmy’s as stoic as ever.

Scott picks up another dinner plate and tosses it, feeling an odd sort of satisfaction echo through his bones as it breaks against the fence. He hands Jimmy a bowl, and with noticeably less trepidation, Jimmy throws it at the fence.

It’s a weird bonding activity, to be sure. Not the weirdest—Scott can remember some of the bonding stuff the theatre folk he worked with in college got up to—but it definitely ranks up there as something probably socially unacceptable.

He throws the next dish even harder.

“Things are going to break,” Scott reiterates, handing Jimmy one of the mugs. “I broke things. You’ll break things. You’re not going to be in trouble for it—you’re an adult, and I plan to treat you like one, all right? And I plan to help you learn how to control it. You’re not alone in this.”

Jimmy hurls a saucer with all his strength, and Scott thinks he sees a shadow of a smile when it shatters against the fence. He does it again with a dinner plate, then steps back, allowing Scott to throw a few more.

When it comes down to the last dish—a dinner plate—Scott hands it to Jimmy, gestures for him to take a good stance. Jimmy doesn’t hesitate; he sends the plate flying into the fence, and this time he definitely smiles a bit when it breaks.

“Jimmy,” Scott says seriously when the man, panting a little bit, turns back to him. “I want you to know—there is nothing in this house that you can break that will make me stop caring about you. As your conservator—and more importantly, as your friend, I place your health and happiness above anything that I own. I want you to remember that, okay?”

Jimmy nods, and Scott’s struck by the sudden, overwhelming urge to hug him. He doesn’t, of course—Jimmy doesn’t really do well with touch, and that’s fine by Scott. He really, really wants to, though.

Instead, he tugs off his gloves and jerks his head in the direction of the backdoor. “I put a pizza in the oven, it should be done soon. Want to find something on Netflix and just hang out for the rest of the night?”

Of course, Jimmy doesn’t say anything. But he offers a small smile, shakes off his gloves, and places his safety glasses on the patio table. Then he steps around Scott and heads inside.

That night, they eat pizza on paper plates while watching an episode of a new suspense show. When the drama peaks, the light in the living room fizzles and goes out—and while Jimmy flinches hard and hides his face, Scott reassures him that it’s fine until he reemerges, forcing out a raspy apology, but agreeing to finish the episode.

It’s not perfect, but it’s progress. And somehow, Scott feels almost proud—and he thinks, really, Aeor would be as well.

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #empires superpowers au #esh au #mas writes #061124 #this one was one that somebody suggested but i dont remember who #um. i think i'll be back soon yall :)#again. this is just me guessing from december of 22 #but i'm hopeful #especially bc i've run out of fics to queue lol #anyway lmk what you think!#maybe i'll see it in a more timely manner #love you guys

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zgvlt · 2 years

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the trials and tribulations of a third wheel silver x reader (+ platonic! sebek x reader)

summary: sebek, your best friend, finds out that you have a crush on silver; he also finds out that silver has some interest in you. he does not know what he's signed up for when he ends up helping the both of you out

author's note: [see end for full notes] this is like half friendship fic, half romance, but fully written to just be filled with good vibes :> (no unrequited feelings here so no need to worry about that if it bothers you)

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff, friendship and romance, friends to lovers, attempt at humor, multiple POV, 8.5k+ words, not beta read

you can also read this on AO3

I. YOU decide to spill a secret

You should have had the foresight to keep your hands slapped over Sebek’s mouth when you let him in on one of your secrets. Thankfully, it hadn’t been too late to do so and the boy was too surprised to even get mad about your insolence… or whatever fancy word he had in that big brain of his.

“Yeah, yeah, go get your screaming out right now,” you said in a placating manner, as if he was your kid or something, “I’ll let you talk in a bit when, you know, you won’t immediately spill my secrets to everyone outside of this room.”

“Excuse ME!” Sebek exclaimed—or, that was what it sounded like muffled—before getting tired of your behavior, pushing your hands away. To your credit, he could have totally pushed it off a minute ago, so he was at least indulging you… probably. “I’m FAR mature enough to not shout at you OR complain about your horrid taste in men—id est, Silver—to everyone else.”

“Horrid?!” you gasped despite not being surprised at all, “so we’re just gonna pretend you weren’t completely agreeing with everything I was saying about him?”

“That was because I THOUGHT you were talking about–” he stopped mid-hiss, lowering his volume before you could reprimand him yourself– “I thought you were talking about the Young Master! Or if not him, then Master Lilia.”

“I said princelike, not prince.”

“It’s not like he’s anything like the Young Master!... or even Leona Kingscholar, if we want to be generous with the descriptor.”

“And Lilia?”

“He’s majestic in his own right,” he claimed, which you supposed had some truth to it, though you personally saw the third year as someone more mischievous than majestic.

“Okay, fine, fine, my mistake for not clarifying immediately,” you said, not particularly sorry. General misunderstandings aside, there was something funny about watching your mint-haired friend do a spit take (fortunately with no actual drink to spit out). “So if I ended up being into one of them instead, what would you have said?”

Because honestly, you couldn’t quite tell if he would smite you on the spot—friend or otherwise—or if he would have congratulated you for your efficient, working eyes.

Sebek frowned.

“It would have been weird and I wouldn’t offer to help you,” he admitted, “but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“And now that you know who I actually like?”

“Even weirder. It’s like… having my friend and a sibling date,” Sebek said, which was his way of telling you that you were giving him the icks, “there could be… there are worse choices, but because it’s you and it’s because it’s him… ugh.”

You wondered which one of you he saw as the sibling and which one was the friend. Knowing Sebek, he would loathe to admit either of you were either one unless he was feeling particularly vulnerable or in an insanely good mood.

After a moment of silence—Sevens, it was just like Sebek to take seriously things that weren’t that big of a deal—and a minute of staring you down he sighed, sinking into his seat as he slouched for once in his life.

“I don’t know what to do with this information,” he finally said, “am I supposed to give you approval before you start courting him? It would be better to ask his fa– Master Lilia, you know.”

“Why would I ask either one of you for approval? I just like him, I shouldn’t have to ask permission to like someone,” you huffed, “I just felt like telling you is all. Impulse decision.”

“So you don’t have any plans on telling him?”

“Not any time soon, which means you better not say a WORD about this to him either,” you said, only a semi-serious warning. You didn’t think he would, definitely not on purpose, but the idea of Silver having a clue made you nervous. “I know you’re loud as hell, but I trust you.”

Whatever retort or snippy remark Sebek planned to say had been bitten back; he had been unable to hide his smile at the compliment.

“Hmph! My lips are not as loose as you think! I can keep a secret just fine, thank you very much! He won’t even get an inkling of the fact that you carry feelings for him!”

“Alright,” you readily accepted his claim. Honestly, it felt nice to finally tell someone about this crush of yours, even though you wouldn’t have thought Sebek of all people would be the first to know.

“By the way… Not that I need your approval, but do you approve?”

The boy in front of you looks contemplative one second and constipated in another, as if he was holding back from saying something nice, too early in the day to be particularly honest.

“There are worse men to fall in love with than Silver,” he settled with.

“Oh, like who? Like yourself?”

A pillow hit you in the face but you could only laugh at how obvious the lack of strength he put into the throw was.

“Flattering yourself, typical of you. There are few people above you in league and I would be one of them,” he said and you’re unsure if he’s even aware of the praise he just provided. Backhanded, but praise is praise regardless. “Worse as in… my fellow first years.”

“Hah! Traitor behavior! It’s like you’re asking to get told on!” You hit him back with the same pillow, sticking your tongue out as he caught it with one hand.

“Then I’ll go tell Silver right now about this crush of yours!” And just by looking at his grin, you knew the ever serious Sebek had simply been joking.

He’d shield your secret as best as he could.

II. SEBEK answers a dumb question

In Sebek’s defense, he’s doing the best he can in, for a lack of a more eloquent way to phrase it, shutting the hell up about your crush on his rival. His rival of all people!

You should get your eyes checked, really, and if his father were an ophthalmologist instead of a dentist he would have taken you with him to Briar Valley already.

So no, maybe he wasn’t actively cheering you on, but you’re one of the few people he can actually rely on and call a friend, so he supposed he wasn’t going to judge you too harshly, even if he thought you could do better (not that there was much better in NRC anyway, so he guessed you already picked your cream of choice from the crop).

Silver would just have to pick up his slack.

Sure, you told him you needed no help whatsoever, he would at least do his part in making sure his rival would be good for you… or something. He’s not too sure what he’s supposed to even do, really, other than putting his 105% in training instead of the usual 100.

Sebek only has one prevalent issue, that being that he’s having a bit of a hard time not interrogating his sparring partner about you. It’s so DIFFICULT when your secret would loop in his head each greeting Silver gave him in the mornings or when they passed in the hallways.

Difficulty aside, he’s PROUD to say that he’s been very successful in not even uttering your name to the second year, so clearly his good restraint has kept him as trustworthy as usual.

Then a second problem rose out of nowhere, a wrench thrown in his well-kept secrecy.

He had not anticipated that Silver would be the one to bring you up himself. Even more surprising was the way he brought you up—well, it was odd for him to bring you up midst spar, but the way he worded it was the true unusual part.

“Repeat that.”

“Are the two of you in a relationship?”

Would Lord Malleus be angry if he whacked Silver with his own baton? Would you… oh, why was he even questioning it, of course you would, but you wouldn’t have the chance to be mad if he never told you, right? He could keep a second secret.

“Are you joking?!” he asked in spite of Silver’s usual expression. The boy never had a particularly obvious sense of humor.

“It’s a serious question,” Silver replied, narrowly dodging a jab from Sebek, “I’ve never seen you so close to somebody before.”

He scoffed. Was it that unbelievable?

“WELL–” he had meant to retort that he only spent a perfectly normal amount of time with you (had he been implying he was abandoning his duties?!), promptly followed by calling the notion disgusting (he couldn’t find it in himself to say such a thing), but he instead said–

“Why does it matter? I’m allowed to be around anyone I want for as long as they mean no harm to the Young Master!”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Sebek. You need to untense,” his rival sighed and the first year had half the mind to hit him in the face (and not with a pillow). HE was the exasperated one, so why was Silver doing the sighing?!

“I was just curious about your friend, that’s all.”

Sebek furrowed his brows.

“Why?”

While there were no right answers there were certainly a few wrong ones, so he listened carefully, clenching his fists. One demeaning word and he would—

“I was wondering if–”

III. SEBEK reports back to you

“–I hate him? Silver thinks I hate him?!”

“He was wondering, it wasn’t definitive!” Sebek corrected, catching the piece of popcorn you threw at him. He promptly ate it, never one to waste food. “Hey! I told him you didn’t, so it’s not a big deal anymore.”

“But for a time he thought I didn’t like him,” you argued, “that’s worse than him thinking we were dating!”

Sebek gasped.

“I resent that!”

“Please, I’m sure you beating him in yesterday’s spar was more than just your skill talking—you were probably appalled at the accusation,” you retorted, “and don’t think I forgot! I heard him talk about a bruise forming!”

“It’ll heal! And he could have dodged it if he was paying attention—he usually does!” he said, though now that you mentioned it, it was odd for Silver to not pay attention to training—usually Sebek was the conversationalist between the both of them. “It’s not like you can see it, so you don’t have to worry about me ruining his face or anything.”

“I’m sure he’s pretty even when injured,” you sniffled, and Sebek gagged. He’d have left you to your own devices already (he already sees Silver everyday, why should he listen to you rave about him?) if you hadn’t offered a nice variety of snacks for him to partake in while you talked.

“Okay, wait, back to the topic—why does he think I hate him?”

“He said that you act differently around him,” he said, placing the word in air quotation marks, “which is Silver speech for you being a weirdo. Did you do something?”

“Huh? Weird?! There’s no way I act weirder around him than I do around you!”

“THAT’S WHAT I WAS SAYING!” he agreed wholeheartedly. Well, he didn’t call you weird to Silver’s face—but that was the gist of what he was thinking, and there was no need to pretend to be polite about it to you.

Sure you were kind, that much he would admit, but a little… a lot. You were a lot, a lot of the time.

Still, even considering your lack of shame around him he doubted Silver would have seen or heard anything too odd from you.

“Although there’s always the chance that I’ve just become desensitized considering my unfortunate choices of company.”

“So, so rude,” you huffed, “I swear I’m normal around Silver. I don’t get many chances to talk to him in the first place.”

Sebek blinked.

“You don’t?”

“I mean, maybe a few times a week?” you replied, suddenly looking embarrassed at the estimate, “I don’t see him everyday, but even if I did I don’t think I could actually say anything more than hello.”

There was a saying, if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say it at all, but if he’d never abided by that saying, nobody would expect him to start following it any time soon.

“So you really had no plan to make him like you back, huh.”

“Is that your way of saying I have no game?”

“I wouldn’t word it that way, but you really don’t!” he ignored your look of offense (he’s not the best at reading faces, but he doubted you were actually offended) in favor of giving some actual advice. “Maybe he thinks you act differently around him because you won’t even talk to him!”

He was on to something, he was sure of it, and by the look you had on your face he was sure you agreed.

“You’re probably right… but I was totally going for that cool and cute and mysterious vibe, you know,” you grumbled, “people always notice those types. I mean, Silver is literally an example of it.

“I feel like if I actually talk to him about something other than school, he’s going to realize I’m lame.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You are, but that hasn’t stopped me from talking to you,” Sebek said with a shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal or anything, “so if I don’t care, obviously Silver isn’t going to.”

And then he gave you a pat on the head, because he’s not really sure of what else to do.

“Do you want me to do anything?” Sebek offered, “I won’t say anything to him, but if you want to know his favorite food, or birthday, or weekly class schedule–”

“I feel like you went from zero to one hundred real quick,” you said with a laugh, patting him on the back in return, “but I don't need you to do anything. Some things I should probably find out for myself.”

“If you say so.”

IV. SEBEK stresses out for you

While you were content to not do anything about your crush (said crush didn’t think you hated him anymore so you lost all sense of urgency), Silver himself seemed to want to do something.

And Sebek had to be on the receiving end again. Never again can you call him a bad friend.

“I’m not telling you anything,” he said with a sliver of annoyance, “there’s nothing you can’t figure out for yourself.”

“I tried, but a few minutes into the conversation… I was left behind.”

“Ah…”

YOU RAN AWAY FROM HIM?!

He cursed you in his head. What were you doing?! Did he not teach you ANYTHING? Well, okay, he technically didn’t because the thought of him giving advice on how to catch Silver’s attention… yeah. Still, you have to face your problems, run up at them! Why were you running away from them like a coward instead?!

“Try harder then,” Sebek said, because that was all he could really say without giving away too much… which, at this point, he was very tempted to do just so you and Silver could stop dragging him into things.

More Silver than you, really, considering you mostly enjoyed talking over acting… unlike Silver, who preferred acting over talking, and Sebek, who liked talking and acting.

“What are you trying to do anyway?” he asked inquisitively, subconsciously taking on the role of the investigators and detectives he’s read about in those mystery novels. Sebek did not want to be questioned about you, but he was very much interested in questioning Silver on the same topic. It was not hypocrisy, it was a matter of privilege.

Privilege equating to you being his friend, resulting in him knowing things about you that he wasn’t just going to easily shell out without proper reason.

“Since when were you so interested in my friend? This doesn’t feel like you just being curious anymore!”

He did not bother hiding his suspicion, his head conjuring up all sorts of theories on Silver’s sudden interest.

Sebek was neither purely optimistic nor purely pessimistic, neither was he a realist either (though he liked to think he was). Thus, his theories ranged from wait what if Silver thinking you hated him was a form of projection as he was the one who hated you to perhaps Silver overheard you talking about some way to stay awake and he wanted to talk to you about it to Silver is in love with you but he’s just as much of a coward when it comes to acting on it.

“It wouldn’t be good if anyone was uncomfortable with me,” the second year replied, “I want to do something to fix it.”

“Huh,” he said, more an expression of his disbelief than an actual question. Sure, Silver could be considered nice, but something about the explanation was off. He’s really not sure why, but he just knows it’s far more personal—that it had to do with that someone being you as opposed to you being just anyone.

“Well, FINE! I’ll give you my assistance just this once, so DON’T put it to waste, Silver!”

V. SILVER gets to talk to you, finally

“Since when were you so interested in my friend?”

Since Silver had seen you with Sebek, if he had to be honest. He hadn’t been sure if that was an acceptable thing to tell someone so he hadn’t admitted it to the younger boy, but that was the truth.

It wasn’t that he had only been aware of you then—he knew you existed, had seen you around more than a few times on campus—but noticing you was inevitable when you chose to stick to a presence as loud as Sebek Zigvolt.

As for why he had taken an interest in you… there were a few reasons.

The first would probably be curiosity—what kind of person could not only withstand the half-fae’s volume, but could also manage to pull him away from constantly following Malleus (without having to be dismissed in annoyance!)

The second was somewhat Sebek related, but also quite a general reason—it was your general disposition. There was just something heartwarming about the way you interacted with your friends (Sebek in particular—it was hard not to be in awe). Yes, he never made a habit of watching you, but seeing you from the corner of his eye, goofing around and spitting out jokes, never failed to liven up his mood.

The third was… something he couldn’t quite place about your attitude towards him.

At first he had assumed you hated him, but Sebek in all of his bluntness had expressed exasperation at the idea, so he supposed that wasn’t the case. Silver then figured he was the problem and, well… considering you seemed to have a hard time holding a conversation with him, perhaps that was the case.

It shouldn’t have mattered—people were entitled to dislike whoever they liked—but the idea of you specifically not liking his presence, especially when he enjoyed your presence on campus… It was quite the upsetting thought.

He wasn’t asking to be close to you, but it would have been nice to have a few conversations with you in between classes.

Whatever the problem was, Sebek said he would try to help decrease the awkward tension, but… was making himself your chaperone the ideal way to do such a thing?

“SEBEK…!”

Maybe not, considering you were (angrily? fiercely?) whispering a flurry of things to the mint-haired boy, who was (far more loudly) whispering back. Still, the context clues were not enough for him to figure out what the two of you were conversing about—other than that it was about him.

“Don’t you dare…”

“...push…helping…

“I don’t…I told you already…”

“...assuming…for you…Silver.”

In any other circumstance, he would have pointed out that it was rude of Sebek to be talking about him to someone while he was literally in front of him, but he figured that you would just use it as an excuse to, well, excuse yourself from the situation, so he kept his mouth shut.

At some point the both of you remembered that he was in earshot distance, the two of you owlishly looking at him.

Sebek nudges you, you nudge him right back, and not for the first time Silver wonders if he could ever achieve that level of comfort with you… which was an odd thing to think about, considering he should probably be aiming to at least complete a full conversation first and foremost.

“Hi Silver!” you greeted, as though you had just noticed him, as though he hadn’t been standing there for at least five minutes.

At least you’re not walking away from him this time around.

“So… what are… Do you need Sebek for something?”

Sebek rolled his eyes but didn’t say a word for once, clearly expecting you or Silver to do most of the talking. Considering his fellow guard was always the more talkative one of the two… that was asking for a lot more than Sebek might have realized.

Right… What now? If Sebek had informed him of this beforehand he might have thought of something to say

Silver looked down at his wrist before realizing he wasn’t wearing a watch, then looked at yours to see if you were—you hadn’t been. He then fished his phone out of his pocket, only to find out that he had forgotten to charge it last night (had he passed out before doing so?), so he turned to Sebek, who only looked mildly disappointed at the silence.

“What time is it?”

“Half past four.”

“Do either of you have any classes left today?”

“We’re both done,” you responded, “why?”

“Maybe we should all get something to eat or drink then,” Silver said, “there’s a lot of tea in Diasomnia, but Mostro should have coffee if you prefer that.”

He’s heard you laugh a dozen times before but you’ve never done it in front of him and sure, you try to stifle it within seconds, but the idea that something about him humored you had him smiling in return.

Even though he wasn’t quite sure what was funny.

“Coffee? You could have just said you wanted Sebek to go away—I’d understand, really.”

“For your information! I can drink coffee as long as there’s milk in it!”

“Yeah right. Coffee with milk? More like milk with coffee.”

The conversation had returned to mostly being led by you and Sebek once more, with Silver responding whenever he felt it suited. Still, all three of you were heading to the same place, so he supposed there was always later in the afternoon to get closer to you.

He feels Sebek pat him on the back during the few seconds you look away to greet someone in passing, and he says,

“You did okay, I guess… but don’t expect me to help you anymore after this.”

He thinks it might just be a compliment, or some form of approval.

VI. SEBEK gives decent advice

“You talked to him just fine yesterday! What do you mean you’re too shy to talk to him again?!”

Things had been going well, hadn’t it? He had watched you interact with Silver and you were actually forming words instead of foaming at the mouth over your crush. You were having a laugh with Silver and discussing your respective hobbies with him, even letting him have a taste of your order!

Sebek had been all proud of you too, even with the shared jokes about him (which were haha funny, he was so getting back at you later)! What happened?!

“That’s because you were there! I’m too nervous to go up to him on my own!”

“I can’t just be there to babysit you all the time, now can I?!”

He didn’t want to invalidate your feelings or anything of the sort—some conversations in the past with you have led him to realize that—but it was difficult for a partial-bystander, partial-participant like him to not feel frustrated at the situation.

You’re his friend, and Silver is… Silver is the only other person his age from his hometown, so while he understands that he doesn’t actually have to get involved, he also feels this need to make sure things go well for the both of you. Not necessarily romantically, but anywhere you (and he SUPPOSED Silver) would feel happy would be good in his books.

He gives the both of you a few minutes to just… sit, for him to think with his head and not the stress hormones in his body. The cortisol levels needed to die down just a bit else his blood pressure rise or his digestive system weakens.

“Sorry–”

“Stupid,” Sebek interrupted, “don’t say sorry about things you shouldn’t be sorry about. You said what you felt, I replied with what I thought about it, and that’s that. I’m not sorry that I’m kind of annoyed with you sometimes, but you’re not obligated to follow my recommendations either. Be annoyed with me back, if you want to!”

You blinked at him for a few moments, taking your sweet time in having the words sink in your skull, then laughed as you called him stupid back. You probably agreed, or so he would like to think.

“Even if I didn’t want to, you're always annoying, Sebek.”

He ignored your rudeness in favor of returning the conversation back to what it was initially, albeit with some more delicacy on his end.

“Why are you so nervous around him?” Sebek asked, realizing he had never seriously discussed it with you before. He’d poke fun at it, but never really stopped to question why you froze up so easily around your crush.

Maybe it was because he thought it was the natural thing to do around someone you liked, at least based on the stories he’s heard and read, but there had to be, if not a logical reason, a personal reason behind it.

“I get that you like him and all but he’s just… a regular human.”

“Easy for you to say! Not only have you known him since childhood, but you’re also not a regular human!” you interjected. Despite the jab you did seem to want to answer properly, so he let you collect your thoughts for a minute, figure out how to explain yourself.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve always liked him from afar,” you admitted, “he was this… handsome and shining figure—quiet, but charming and diligent. He was just… so cool that I couldn’t help but admire him.”

Sebek would have pretended to gag at any other time, but upon listening to you he wondered what Silver would have felt had he heard the way you described him, how far it was from hatred.

“What do you think about him after talking to him yesterday?”

“He… he was so considerate even though I thought I was being a complete weirdo sometimes! So kind and helpful and occasionally funny. Was it possible for someone to be so…wow!” Despite the slew or praises leaving your lips, the irony of you sounding as if you were lamenting your feelings was not lost on him.

“I think I like him more than I thought. It’s making me more nervous, just thinking about interacting with him and messing up somehow.”

It was then that Sebek had come to a realization, an actual finding as opposed to another hypothesis—the way you saw Silver, the way Silver saw you, the obstacles in your path that blocked you from being comfortable with the guy you liked so much.

“Silver’s just a guy.”

“He’s–”

“No, listen to me,” Sebek interrupted. He’s always had a voice that demanded to be listened to, booming like thunder, but when his voice was steady and firm it was like he was asking, maybe even begging.

“I don’t mean it like it’s a bad thing. I’m just saying that no matter how perfect and amazing you think he is, he is just a normal guy,” he said, “so it’s okay if you mess up because he messes up too… a lot, actually.”

You wouldn’t say anything at first and he wondered if you perhaps didn’t believe him, or if he worded things a bit harshly. Should he try to lighten the mood? Should he double down and explain some more?

“I’m serious! I can list a whole bunch off the top of my head right this instant if you want!”

“No! No, not needed. I feel like I should hear that from Silver himself? Or Lilia? You spent your childhoods with him, right?”

Your laughter only stayed for a second or two, but the length didn’t matter much. As long as it was genuine.

“That… might actually be some really good advice,” you admitted; he was only able to detect a smidge of disbelief, “it’d be nice if you took… ah, nevermind.”

“You can say what you want to say.”

“I’ll save it for later,” you replied, shaking your head, “otherwise we’d be cooped up in my room until sunrise talking about all our issues.”

“You talk as if I haven’t been on the receiving end of that before.”

“Okay, point.”

A few minutes pass where neither of you do any talking and while it’s not uncomfortable Sebek does wonder if he should get up and leave, if you would prefer to be left to your own devices. Before he can do that, however, you ask one last question.

“Do you think I could ever be this comfortable with Silver? You know, where I can rant to him, or talk about any insecurities I have, or anything along those lines.”

He’s not really sure if the question was rhetorical, more you pondering and less expecting an answer out of him, but he replies with his thoughts anyway.

“Maybe start with your hobbies first, or his favorite food or something,” Sebek says, only half joking, “but if… once you get closer? I might have to start arguing with him about who knows you better!”

“Stupid…you already argue with him about everything anyway!”

VII. SILVER talks to you, the sequel

Sebek can’t chaperone you all the time. Friendship aside, he’s a busy first year with other people to follow around and other people to (excitedly) ask about their days, after all.

That’s what Sebek tells Silver, although the latter’s not sure why he’s suddenly become the replacement to keep you company, or why you need a replacement at all.

The answer is probably that you don’t. You’ve escorted yourself from class to your room just fine before Sebek became your friend and it’s not like you’ve forgotten how to do it on your own.

He’s well aware that Sebek’s trying to get him to do something and while he’s not sure what it could be, Silver had no plans to say no anyway.

He’s been wanting to talk to you again—reasons difficult to describe but could at least be summed up as simply wanting to be around you—so for as long as his presence isn’t needed elsewhere he’ll take the chance to do so.

(Something in his gut tells him neither his father nor Sebek will try to call his cell phone anytime soon.)

He made his way from his last class to yours… but not before drinking the leftovers of his afternoon coffee—just in case. He’s sure you know of his predicament and he has no doubts you’ll be nice about it, but it’d be upsetting if a conversation with you was cut short.

You smile upon meeting his eyes and he can’t help himself from smiling back. It wasn’t that he was trying to stop himself from doing so, but more so that it was less a conscious choice and more a natural reaction. You actually seemed happy to see him this time, and the thought of you being happy because of that made him… glad.

He’s not as verbose as… literally every fae (and half-fae, on that account) he knows, but the word seemed good enough to describe his present feelings.

“I feel like I should apologize on Sebek’s behalf,” you said, trailing after him as the both of you moved through the crowded hallways, “he’s… he means well, but he likes to meddle.”

He understands what you mean—Sebek at his very core is a well-meaning worrywart, but he doesn’t really get what that has to do with you. He simply assumed that this was Sebek going against his once-in-this-lifetime-assistance promise, but apparently you knew something about the first year’s motivations that he didn’t.

That or Sebek had ratted him out, which was just… awkward. Imagining himself explaining his thought process… He himself was having difficulties sorting it out, new reasons popping up one after another, so having to choose what reason to give you or worse, having to tell you everything…

No thank you.

“That’s just how he is,” he shrugged, “but I don't mind. I enjoy talking to you.”

“Sorry?!” you sputtered, as though unable to fathom the thought of it. Before he could repeat himself or ask why you seemed shocked, you followed up with, “I… not that I don’t feel the same, but why?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he asked, eyebrows furrowed, “does there have to be a reason?”

He does have his reasons, but all the same those reasons stemmed from him simply feeling that way, not exactly anything logical he could explain.

“I guess not, but we’ve only had a proper conversation… like, last time? All the other times I, uh, cut it off short,” you looked a bit sheepish at the admission. “Sorry about that by the way. I didn’t hate you or anything.”

Oh. Unless you were particularly good at reading his thoughts, Sebek did relay back to you about some things he asked about you.

While he’s not as competitive as the younger boy, he’ll try to get back at him next training.

“That’s good,” he said, a small sense of relief filling him. Not that he thought Sebek was lying, but it was still nice to hear it from you. “It would be bad if you did, since…”

He thought about your question again—what could he possibly say to get you to understand without being too upfront, or vague, or confusing?

“Since?”

“Talking to you is a good way to relax after class,” Silver said, admittedly just saying the first reason he could think of, which was what he thought to be a decently-worded depiction of the truth.

“Well, when you put it like that, I totally get what you–”

“Seeing you soothes me.”

Maybe Silver shouldn’t have said that last portion. However, what’s done is already done, and while you keep walking with him, you neither look at him nor speak to him. He wished he could understand what you were thinking, or that he could ask someone for advice at this moment without you knowing.

Realistically the silence lasts only for a minute or two, but by the time that you break it it feels like ten at the last, and it’s to the point that he inwardly sighs in relief that you don’t seem particularly upset or perturbed.

“I feel the same,” you replied, “similarly, I mean… maybe not the exact same, there’s probably some differences, but, you know.”

“Right,” he agreed, simply happy that his current feelings towards you were not seen as anything odd, that it was mutual.

“So… Do you have to go back to your room immediately?” Silver asked, “I was wondering if you wanted to grab something to drink or eat again today.”

VIII. SEBEK tries to give love advice

“Silver, why are you in my room?!”

That was the first question Sebek had asked Silver. The second was,

“Why are you asking me? Go ask Master Lilia!”

Normally Sebek would try to answer any question thrown at him, mostly because he found himself knowledgeable enough to at least be able to answer anything academic, but Silver’s questions were so far removed from the academic curriculum. It wasn’t even training or physical fitness related!

Books and (unsolicited) advice from his parents (and Silver’s father) aside, he’s NOT IN A RELATIONSHIP! NEVER BEEN, NO PLANS TO BE FOR A LONG TIME (note: while in Night Raven College), so just why did Silver think HE was the person to go for things like this!

He only put up with it because you’re a friend! What’s Silver’s excuse?

“But the two of you are best friends? So it would be better to ask you for advice, right?”

… Okay, maybe Silver had him there.

“Okay, FINE!” Sebek sighed, pulling out a chair—for himself, of course. The intruder could stand there all he wanted. “What’s the issue now?”

Seriously! It’s been, what, a month or two of the both of you talking normally (meaning without his help) and hanging out (again, finally without him trailing after to make sure neither one of you messed up somehow, or checking up on you every so often through text to make sure Silver hasn’t said anything to break your heart or whatever), but somehow neither one of you have made a move! What is going on?!

Again, he was too busy with academics and it’d be nice if everyone followed suit with that mentality, but if the feelings are already there? Might as well act on it! As long as Silver didn’t slack off in training, as long as you wouldn’t be too distracted with love to focus on your classes, wasn’t it alright?

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but I think I… no, I’m sure that I like…” Silver paused, as if rethinking his decision to tell Sebek after all. Honestly, Sebek already anticipated the question, so he really didn’t need to continue. Still, he admired his lack of cowardice and ability to actually speak your name.

“As you should,” he replied instantly, thanking the Great Seven that progress was finally being made! “I would be surprised if you didn’t.”

“Sebek, just to clarify, I don’t mean it in a purely platonic manner.”

If he was talking to you, he probably would find a more delicate, but still very much genuinely him way to word his upcoming statement. It’s Silver, though, so he speaks his truth unabashedly.

“Silver, I KNOW!” Sebek huffed, with neither the grace nor sensitivity he believed people typically wanted in situations like these. “Imagine! Someone tells you they think your friend’s laughter reminds them of the chirping of birds, that their smile is like the coming of springtime. Do you think me incapable of connecting the dots, Silver?”

Really, he was getting used to hearing the compliments from you, but hearing them from Silver made him want to grab one of the horses from the stable and simply get as far away as possible. It reminded him of his parents and their sickly sweet words to each other, except this was obviously worse because his parents were together, the both of you were not… yet!

“Hold on,” Silver said, and Sebek doesn’t get why he wouldn’t just spit it out already. Hold on to what? His patience? He was trying because you deserved a good confession straight from the source and not from a third party (otherwise known as him)!

“If you know, and you’ve known for a while now, then–”

“No, of course not! Do you think I possess the audacity to tell on you?” he huffed, honestly taking offense at the implication. Sure, he’s told on Silver here and there, and maybe a few other times once or twice because he deserved it, but CERTAINLY not with something as important as feelings!

“If anything, I’m upset that you’ve told me first! Should you not be acting on your feelings instead?”

“I came here to ask for advice, remember?”

Sebek frowned. Why do humans have to make things complicated?

“You don’t need advice! Just don’t break my friend’s heart and don’t confess half-heartedly! Is that not simple?”

Silver looked stunned by something for once, which honestly? Good! At least that meant the information was being absorbed into that brain of his.

“Huh. That might actually be decent advice, coming from you.”

Déjà vu aside, he huffed in reply.

“Don’t be surprised, of course I can give decent advice,” he said, “even if I don’t want to give any. So don’t ask me again.” Just please get together already so I can sleep peacefully at night without having to worry about this for once!

Silver only smiles and says thank you, as though he knew Sebek would not be able to stop himself from providing his assistance anyway if either you or him needed it.

IX. YOU and SILVER finally talk about that

Unbeknownst to each other, the both of you have thought about being the one to confess first. It’s partially motivated by Sebek, who genuinely seems to be positive that nothing will go wrong and that it is merely nervousness keeping the both of you from reaching some storybook happily ever after. Realistically the both of you know that reality can often be different from expectations, but his optimism is quite infectious.

The other motivator is simply the both of you not being able to help yourselves from spilling out phrases of praise for the other, not merely to Sebek but to your fellow peers as well.

And, well, the idea that even if the feelings were not returned, the receiving party would at least be gentle with the rejection.

Plans aside, neither of you actually thought today would be the day, but Sebek had excused himself early (something to do with his Young Master Malleus, who Silver knew wasn’t actually requesting for his presence at all) and it did not look like he was coming back anytime soon.

“He’s been doing that lately,” you said, as used to it as Silver is, “leaving the both of us together.”

“So you’ve noticed it as well,” he replied, though it would be surprising if you hadn’t, “that time at the library–”

“And that time in the greenhouse–”

“When we left campus as well to roam around town, then he simply left us to join some of the other first years.”

There were so many chances even when your mutual friend wasn’t making them out of his own volition, but none of those times seemed particularly right to say anything, moreso just a chance to spend more time with each other, a chance both of you were eager to take.

Something about this afternoon—or evening, or the time in between the both of them—was different from all the afternoons you’ve spent together, though.

Maybe it was because of the sky—the explosion of pinks and purples and blues as the dusk began to settle, a sky that reminded you of Silver’s eyes, not necessarily in hue but in its salience, a call to attention.

Maybe it was because it was a quiet, peaceful time—a fair weather that Silver found himself prone to falling asleep to, and yet he felt no sense of drowsiness or tiredness whatsoever, merely contentment to be seated next to you.

“You know, I asked Sebek once, a few months ago, if he thought I could ever become close to you,” you admitted, with just enough courage to stare him straight in the face. “I know I already said sorry, but sorry about all those times I ran away from you. You made me nervous sometimes.”

“I asked him about something similar before, too.” Sort of, although he was far more straightforward when it came to questioning him about you. He can admit now that he’s glad that the boy kept his lips sealed quite tightly, a certain delight in learning things about you through you yourself.

“Is there a reason to be nervous around me, though? I’m having a tough time envisioning anything I’ve done to warrant that…”

You laughed, a tinge of embarrassment slipping out—perhaps directed at your past, perhaps because of the present, or how your next choice of words could affect the future.

“Because I liked you.”

It’s silent for a few moments, the loudest sounds being that of the rustling leaves and the critters of a nearby forest, but strangely enough it’s not as scary as you thought it would be. At the very least, that’s what you will keep telling yourself—your affections are a secret begging to be spilled.

“Even though I never talked to you that much, I just enjoyed seeing you go about your day out of the corner of my eye. I like the way you carry yourself—you’re so cool and laidback and devoted that I thought I would embarrass myself if I even spoke a word to you,” you said, shaking your head at the memories, “I used to think you were so perfect compared to me.”

“I’m not–”

“I realized that eventually,” you intercepted. As brave as you found yourself at this moment, you were scared that if you were not to say your peace immediately, the conversation could be derailed, or that you would lose the courage to confess completely. “I’m glad I did. I don’t think I would have gotten to spend time with you like this otherwise.”

“Then… I’m glad you did, too,” Silver said in agreement, “because I was in a similar situation.”

“You were?!”

“Somewhat. It’s more in the sense that… Do you remember when I told you I thought your presence was soothing?” He waited for a second, continuing when you nodded your head. “That wasn’t a lie, but it was also a bit of an understatement.

“For the longest time I’ve always enjoyed your presence, and it came to a point where I wanted to be around you more often and to get to know you instead of just being at the same time and place as you,” Silver said, “I think we just had different approaches to our feelings.”

“That sounds about right,” you replied, finding some humor in the situation, “I guess it’s a good thing that we found our way to becoming friends somehow.”

“It was.”

Neither you nor Silver follow up on that right away. It’s not that it’s not possible to say what either one of you have been leading up to anymore, but more so figuring out how to lead up to it. Was there a particular way the other wanted to hear it, and how could they combine that with their own words and feelings?

“You said you liked me,” Silver said, giving pause as if to allow you some time to correct him, or to clarify that you meant one way and not the other.

The idea of you liking him had never occurred to him.

Well, no, that wouldn’t be right—he’s thought of it before, but it was always attached with the plan of him having to take you out on a date or two first, or at the very least asking to be given a chance to win you over.

Still, he can’t find it in himself to mourn that he had not realized sooner. There was always a proper timing to these things, and if now was the perfect moment to strike, to act on it, then so be it.

“Do you still like me?”

“...That’s not a very fair question,” you said. It’s a half-hearted complaint at best, more of a request on your behalf than anything, but Silver heeded it regardless.

“Sorry, you’re right,” he replied, “then let me be the one to tell you first.”

Silver takes a deep breath, shakes off any nerves that could still be on him, and, for as much as you would allow, looks you straight in the eye as he conveys his confession.

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a while now, I hope it’s okay with you that I feel this way,” he says. He’s as serious as ever, but he says it in such a gentle, tender manner that the already tranquil mood lightens even further.

Subconsciously, the both of you realize it then—if there were any odds against him, against you, none of them existed now. There could only be a happy ending written for the both of you.

“Being around you calms me, and yet I find myself staying awake for as long as possible just so I can listen to you. Even when I end up falling asleep I know I can trust you to wake me up, and when I do wake up, I find myself more rejuvenated than usual because your face is the first thing I see.

“I thank you for always gracing me with your presence, but all the same I want something more with you,” Silver trails off after, letting out a small huff of laughter as a sheepish grin settles on his face. “Is that too forward? I’ve been told that I could be quite…”

“Not at all.”

The tips of your fingers tap against his knuckles before enveloping his clenched fist with your hand. Any vulnerabilities, words and feelings never spoken until today, will be held carefully by you—and when he relaxes his body, his palm glides against yours, and he promises that he will carry your affections just as gently as you do his own.

X. SEBEK receives his well-deserved peace, somewhat (OUTTAKE)

Sebek was well-aware of his role in your relationship, so he was not the least bit surprised that you and Silver would (separately, and then once more together) not only make sure he was the first to find out, but to thank him for his services as well.

He alternated between rolling his eyes and pretending his help was no big deal and demanding that he be recognized for his efforts, all before eventually not being able to help himself from bursting into a grin and congratulating the both of you.

Mostly you, but he wasn’t sure he was able to hide his approval properly from Silver.

Sebek was genuinely happy for the both of you, of course, but he would not deny that a part of his delight stemmed from no longer having to be on the receiving end of whatever will-they-won’t-they trope the both of you were applying. Even when he wasn’t losing his mind listening to the both of you, he was losing it by watching the both of you interact (at a distance. What was he, a stalker? He had more important things to do than pay attention to a budding romance!)

For the most part, peace was achieved. You still invited him out frequently, sometimes with Silver and sometimes without, and nothing really changed between him and Silver either other than having another mutual person to protect.

What Sebek did not anticipate was to be on the receiving end of questions from the two he respected the most—one who was upset to be told of the recent developments later than he would have wanted, and another who was ready to pry any details his foster son neglected to tell him.

This was Silver’s fault, so why was he on the receiving end of the complaints all of a sudden?! Was this what he got for keeping his mouth shut?!

“Silver…!”

His rival better prepare—even if he was your significant other, he won’t be exempt from his wrath tomorrow morning.

end notes | masterlist of all my works

[1] The initial idea for the fic was pure humor and fluff with a bunch of clichés and Silver being jealous of protective BFF Sebek and reader. I kept the Sebek BFF dynamic because I love him, though his protectiveness is actually toned down to something more "I have my eye on you but you're free to get to know my friend just treat them well" than pure "Silver you are on my DNI list".

[2] I also mostly discarded the jealous Silver idea. Silver is less "I'm jealous that Sebek is your s/o even though he actually isn't" (made sure to have Sebek clarify it right away) and more "I'm jealous that he was able to form this genuine connection with you, and that other people can be in your presence. I want to be one of the people in your circle too." I don't mind the first type of jealousy, I think it's cute when played for laughs + good drama if executed well, but it's not what I was going for.

[3] I also tried to get the idea across immediately that Sebek does not have romantic feelings for the reader. I didn't want to use that trope. I don't want him to be sad. In the platonic sense, he loves reader and Silver (would rather die than admit it), so he's in this spot where he thinks it's "ew gross" but also "you're both good people so you should both be happy and i want to be supportive but why are both of you taking so long why are u stupid oh seven let this go well i will scream if this doesn't"

[4] Chemistry is one of the subjects I was weaker in back in high school so excuse my bare minimum research but Sebek feels like the type to go "MY CORTISOL CIRCULATION IS IN HIGH LEVELS RIGHT NOW DO NOT APPROACH OR I WILL YELL AT YOU" instead of "wow im fucking stressed!" like any other normie would lol

[5] Another thing I was a bit delicate with is Sebek's pushing, and that while he has his frustrations he doesn't completely diminish reader's insecurities or difficulty in talking with Silver specifically. I imagine that it happened in the past, but he's probably working to be more understanding of others, reader in particular bc friendship and favoritism lol.

[6] I was really stuck on what I think Silver would appreciate the most in a person and how he would fall in love with them. Of course all dynamics are fun and I want to use different personalities and types of readers in the future, but for this one I decided to have reader remind Silver of the pleasant and peaceful things in life. I liked the idea that they've both admired each other from a far, like a "this person really heals me…" but while Silver wants to get closer and tries to act on it, Reader instinctively wants to run away bc they like him so much. The pure romance trope, basically.

[7] I decided to not explore the whole "falling in love" process, like dates and stuff, mostly to allow the reader some flexibility in imagining what activities or conversations or whatnot Silver and reader have had. Compared to my other fics, that's not really the purpose of this one.

#twst silver x reader #twst x reader #silver x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst silver #nathya twst writing #twst x you

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