#whatever pain you have i’d take away if i could; it’s the least i could do for you being such a brightly shining light for me ☀️

[kurishiri]

11 . . . alfons main story (with letter)

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: passing mention of non-consensual touching, consumption of alcohol.

In the end, after we made a mess of ourselves in the shower, we were faced with our clothes, which was also a mess — just in a different way.

Alfons: The prospect of wearing these clothes again... don’t you just loathe to imagine it?

And with those words, we spent the night in that room, nude.

When morning broke, we had new clothes delivered to us, courtesy of whatever happened during the night before,

and while batting away those evil hands that only knew mischief, I put on the clothes before we made our way back to the castle.

Alfons: So, how was it?

A: Care to tell me whether I looked like I was enjoying myself while indulging in pleasure with you?

Kate: ...!?

His question was so direct that the next moment my face burned up.

All I remembered from last night were our breaths and lips, and the sensation of our bodies rubbing together...

Kate: I-I’m still not sure.

Alfons: Well that’s disheartening to hear. In that case, it seems we will need to do even more naughty things.

Kate: Wh—!?

Alfons: But alas... I plan to sleep today away. I won’t be waking up until tonight, so do what you will and like, dear exclusive fairytale keeper.

A: Dare I say, though, I would imagine you could catch up on sleep as well. Perhaps doing so would do you good as well?

Just like that, as always, Alfons left there.

(...It seems Alfons’ goodbyes are always one-sided.)

In fact, so much so that I felt it wouldn’t be strange if he just disappeared right before my eyes the next day, much like an illusion.

It was almost as though he was distant from everyone.

From the friends he played with at night, with Crown——and of course, me as well, seeing as we’ve just met too.

(...I feel like I shouldn’t try to delve deeper into Alfons’ ‘truth’ any more than I have.)

There was not a single doubt in me that I would only end up getting hurt.

Such a premonition, filled with certainty, left a mild pang deep in my heart, but I pushed it down.

(It’s just as Alfons said——‘this relationship will end after only a month.’)

(So if he takes my heart too...)

Kate: .........Only painful memories will follow.

The words I murmured seemed to warn me, and they made my heart hurt more than I thought.

But I pretended like such pain was never there, and walked with brisk steps.

(It’s going to be okay. Because I... I don’t like Alfons, one bit.)

—— Perspective change; in the lounge ——

Roger: ...So what happened to ‘I plan to sleep today away’?

Alfons had just downed his first glass when Roger came in.

Alfons: ...Goodness, eavesdropping on other people’s conversations like that, I know of no ability more distasteful than yours.

Roger: Hey, I just happened to be around to hear. It’s not as though I activated it just to listen in on you guys.

A crease formed in Alfons’ brows, clearly unamused, before he spared a glance at Roger’s hand.

Alfons: Having a beer in the middle of the day, I see? What a lament indeed, seeing a doctor neglect his own health.

Roger: To be fair, I did pull an all-nighter last night. And besides, I’d say I’m infinitely more healthy than you, at least, seeing as you’re drinking a gin in the middle of the day.

Roger lightly swung his beer jockey before he downed some.

And after making a sound from his throat in satisfaction, he turned to Alfons once more.

Roger: ...So, how’s it going? I bet you’re pretty taken by Kate.

Alfons: Why of course I am.

A: She is a little robin who had haplessly fallen into a den of evil, she’s honest and pure, having done not a single evil deed before... or something of that nature.

A: I hardly come across such interesting playthings, you know.

Roger: ...Hmm?

His voice seemed to hold some hidden meaning to it, and he narrowed his eyes sharply at Alfons.

Alfons: ...Did I say something strange?

Roger: It doesn’t look to me like you’re spending time with her out of that sort of ‘interest’ anymore though.

R: Isn’t it as simple as you just liking her?

Alfons: Would that be your opinion as a doctor? Because unfortunately for you, you’re sorely off.

A: You see, there’s not an ounce of the thing called love in me.

Roger: Is that so? Because to me it seems like she’s taken quite an interest in you.

Alfons: Ahha! Were you expecting anything else?

A: Our relationship is simply a diversion that will last but a month.

A: So, even if there’s no love to be seen, at the very least it will remain something to enjoy, to be sure.

Roger: ...Okay, then don’t egg her on too much.

R: You’re probably teetering on a real thin line right now between something serious and some ‘sick diversion.’

Alfons: ...hah.

It was probably the most dry sigh he had let out up until now.

Alfons: Just when in the world have you become such a good-natured person?

—— Perspective change ——

When Alfons and I returned the next day, we were informed of the good progress made regarding the previous mission in the impoverished parts.

The collusion between the director of the almshouse, who had supervised that evil group,

and the director of the orphanage who was responsible for that huge stack of corpses we first saw was brought to light, and as a result——

The name of a certain gentlemen’s club allegedly turned up.

Kate: When you say ‘gentlemen’s club’... that means entrance is restricted to members, and it’s only open to those who have been acknowledged even among high society, right?

William: Yes, that’s right. It refers to lodgings, restaurants, bars, and libraries that only members have access to...

W: And prominent figures from each industry gather there, seeking to make personal connections with one another.

W: There’s a high possibility that one such club is responsible for the massacres occurring in the East End.

W: Allegedly, they take pride in being a club of ‘purification’... or ‘cleansing,’ so to speak.

(‘Purification’...)

With London’s population swelling, the divide between the wealthy and the poor also grew.

Hunger gave way to disputes, and disputes led to tragic incidents.

And when newspapers made a lot of noise about it, there were people who took a glance at the darkness of this city and held a eugenic mindset,

thinking that ‘the poor were born to be criminals.’

(But... there is no one who would not mind people being killed just for living.)

The people who tried to run frantically to escape from the knives pointed at them indiscriminately.

The people who clung onto the illusions Alfons gave.

How the scene I watched through the lens of an illusion made my chest hurt.

(If they really think that killing people who have done no wrong indiscriminately is an act of ‘purification’...)

(...then what severe haughtiness they have.)

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: If there are children who die without being known by anyone out there riddled in the world,

A: then it goes to say that there are also those that believe this to be nothing more than cleaning up garbage from the street corners where the dropouts gather. That’s just how it is.

—— End flashback ——

(...I wonder if Alfons lived in such places,)

(where he could tangibly feel such incidents were happening to these people on his skin.)

Truth be told, I was scared of once again facing the cruel things happening in the East End this time.

(But, now I want to witness it to the fullest...)

Such feelings blossomed from within my heart.

Victor: In order to capture the mastermind behind this, we would need to infiltrate this ‘purification’ club... however, that would be easier said than done.

V: Many gentlemen’s clubs are restricted, and because they’re aware of what they’re doing, they will be especially cautious of others.

William: ...And that is why, Alfons, we would like to entrust you with this infiltration.

(...!)

Alfons: Your wish is my command. I happen to be quite proficient at deceiving people and slipping in.

This was a dangerous mission where we would have to head straight into enemy territory, and yet here Alfons was, laughing without a care in the world as he accepted the mission.

(And since Alfons is assigned this mission... that means I, too...)

(This time for sure, I will witness the mission until the end and record it as his exclusive ‘fairytale keeper.’)

Alfons: Ahh... and what of Miss Kate?

William: Seeing as she’s your ‘exclusive’ fairytale keeper, it seems you have no choice but to take her along.

Kate: ...Alright.

For a moment, the barbaric events by the ‘purification’ club flashed in the back of my mind,

and I felt like fear was about to crawl up from my legs, but after a scolding at my weak spirit, I raised my head.

Kate: Uhm, but how will we be able to get into the gentlemen’s club? I’m pretty sure women are unable to enter, right...?

William: That won’t be a problem with Alfons’ ability.

W: He can easily make them believe those without membership are members of their club, just as he can also make them believe a woman for a man.

Kate: ! I see now...

Alfons: Oh, Miss Kate, there is no need to force yourself to do this.

His voice spoke right in my ear.

I didn’t even need to turn around to know Alfons was right beside me, his lips near me as he laughed.

Alfons: If you’re scared, you are more than free to go kill time at a nearby café. We can always touch base afterward then.

(I mean, he isn’t wrong in that I am scared, but...)

[1] I don’t want to run away.

[2] I have a responsibility.

[3] I want to help you. (+4 / +4)

Kate: Even if it’s just a little bit, I want to be of some help to you in solving this case.

K: So please, let me come along. I’ll catch the evidence together with you.

Alfons: I hold nothing but amazement at just how serious of a person you are...

William: Hehe, you’ve become a brave little robin, haven’t you?

Kate: Alfons, I look forward to working with you.

Alfons: ...Goodness, whatever am I to do with you.

His smile seemed somewhat troubled, with a hint of exasperation and tenderness, making my heart skip a beat——

(I don’t like him, I don’t like him.)

I chanted this over and over in my mind like a spell, driving away the sweet feelings bubbling in my heart.

Alfons: Well, since it cannot be helped, I’ll take you along.

A: Now isn’t this something to positively look forward to? An infiltration into enemy territory, just the two of us.

A: Just imagining what sorts of dangerous things we’ll run into has me giddy now.

And so, on a moonless night——

(...To think we really could get in without any trouble at all.)

At the reception, Alfons used his ability,

and when he said that we were members, we slipped into a hotel that was exclusive to members of the purification club.

In case something happened on the inside, Lord Elbert and Roger were outside on standby.

Kate: Alright, let’s go, Alfons.

As I stepped forward with resolve, he lightly tapped my shoulder, and...

Alfons: I must say men’s clothes suit you quite well, Miss Kate.

He then blew into my ear, as though teasing me.

Kate: W-what do you think you’re doing...

Right now, I was wearing a suit and pants, along with a thick overcoat to hide my figure.

And I had also tied my hair, tucking it in the overcoat, as a hat couldn’t fully conceal my long hair.

But if I got outed by anyone who wasn’t under the influence of his ability, the plan we came up with would be as good as gone.

(If I let out a cry or something, people might find out I’m a woman!)

Alfons: Hehe... you were so positively stiff as a stick out of nervousness, so I thought to help you loosen up a little.

Kate: Then can’t you do it in a less risky way!

Apparently, the word ‘tension’ just did not exist on any page in this man’s dictionary.

Kate: Do you even understand what we came here to do in the first place?

Alfons: But of course. We are to obtain proof that this club is responsible for the string of incidents. If we can pin down exactly who is behind this, that would be ideal.

A: But if we can get concrete evidence that they have given out orders to initiate these incidents, then the police can be dispatched.

A: In the event we are unable to do so, however, then we must set aside any lawful methods,

A: and opt for the veeryy bloody judgment from Crown instead... I suppose this sums it up?

Kate: Well, as long as you understand!

When he explained the plan without missing a beat, I was rendered at a loss for words.

Seeing me like this, Alfons mirthfully narrowed his eyes before straightening himself.

Alfons: Now that that’s sorted out——

A: How does having a drink sound?

Kate: Wha—? You do know this is a mission, right!?

He was heading toward the bar lounge, so in a panic I tried to stop him, when he turned back to me with a smile.

Alfons: Shh... of course, this is for the mission.

A: Whether in the big heap of rubbish of the slums, or in the neat and pristine high society, we humans all have one thing in common.

Kate: And that is...?

Alfons: Of course, that would be how loose-lipped we become when we consume alcohol.

to be continued…

I do look forward to it

I am most excited to do an infiltration investigation, just the two of us.

The possibility of being outed as a woman through your men’s attire and having to roleplay this and that for lascivious members in exchange for their silence...

Or perhaps opening the doors of a gentlemen’s club in name only, only to find obscene debauchery spread before your eyes...

I daresay it’s these sorts of absurd happenings that actually contribute to the fun. Would you not agree?

Ahh, but if there ever does come a time when you are struck with fear, you are always free to say ‘actually, I won’t accompany you any further.’ I won’t mind that at all, actually.

After all, there is not an ounce to gain from exposing yourself to the grotesque evils that lurk within England’s society or knowing the schemes of a serious murder case.

I do so reckon that relaxing at a café while enjoying a most delicious lemon drizzle cake would have been better suited for a little robin like yourself.

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masterlist🪞 ╱ ko-fi ☕️

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ tags🏷️ ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ @drachonia @.comment, send an ask off anon, or dm to be added or removed!

[skittlewaffle]

Christmas gift for @madame-mongoose !!! ✨

[avocado-writing]

being the worst wolverine’s wife and one day you get zapped by the TVA for whatever reason, and it looks like you completely disappeared, this is what leads logan to become depressed, start drinking and ultimately ignore the x men when they die etc etc

he goes with wade purely bc he would if you were alive- he couldn’t give less of a shit about wade’s universe but he can feel you over his shoulder like an angel telling him he needs to do this (i imagine it’s like the jean hallucinations he had in the wolverine movie)

what if you’re in the void and he finds you with the rest of the group, like being unable to believe you’re really here?

hehe i love angst and ily avo <3

I already did a “Logan meets you in the void” fic here so I didn’t wanna make this too long or I’d just end up hitting the same beats!

1.4k. rated m for excessive use of the word “fuck”

The day you disappeared you took his fucking soul with him. 

You had been out shopping. Nothing weird about that, he wasn’t some overbearing husband who demanded to know your location every single hour. But then afternoon had turned into evening had turned into night and nobody had heard from you. The unfamiliar sensation of panic had risen, queasy, from his stomach into his chest. They sent out a search party and looked for days. Not a trace of you to be found. Logan couldn’t smell you. Fuck, he’d never not been able to smell you before.

He would hunt for you every day, hoping to find you alive but trying to level with the idea of you being cold and dead because at least then he’d have closure; he’d stay awake for hours on end until he collapsed from exhaustion… then he’d wake up and repeat the whole horrible affair. Nothing. After weeks of searching, Charles had laid a hand on his arm. Logan can still remember the look of pity on his face, like a bomb to the gut. 

“I’m so sorry, Logan.”

They had to assume you were abducted and killed. Your body never turned up. And Logan just had to… keep going. How was he meant to keep going? You were his entire fucking life and then you were just…

Gone. 

To say he was left empty was the biggest understatement of his fucking life. He was a shell of the man he once was. He never laughed any more, never smiled, always trying to plug the hole your absence left in him with whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. Drink himself to a place where he could forget you.

It never really worked. At least it made him numb to the pain though. 

When he staggers home one evening, eyes bleary and head spinning, and finds the whole mansion torched? Everyone left that he loved fucking dead? Well, it takes the last vestiges of his existence and crushes them into dust. 

Oh, Logan, he hears in the back of his mind. Your voice. It breaks him. He falls to his knees, hands buried in the burning timbers, and wails. 

He survives. He does not live. Thinking about everyone he’s lost, with you haunting the corners of his consciousness, always reaching out to comfort him - but when he goes to nuzzle into the warmth of your palm he is overcome with rage and bitterness to find it’s just his own imagination playing tricks on him. 

Then a fucking idiot in red dragged him away from the shambles which was his life and forced him to be functional again, if only barely. He’s angry, so angry all of the goddamn time, even when in the back of his mind he can hear you speaking sweet, calming words to him. 

And then he hears your voice for real. 

Sees you standing across the base this pathetic resistance has made. You look older, sure, he does too - but there’s no mistaking the fire in those eyes. You’re even wearing the same fucking shirt you went missing in, he remembers it, it has a picture of your favourite band. 

His heart stops dead in his chest as you whisper his name. 

“Logan?”

“Oh shit!” says Wade, and Logan has never wanted to kill him more, “Oh shit! Is this your refrigeratored wife, coming back to throw in a third act character arc?”

Logan finishes the bourbon bottle and throws the empty at Wade’s head, where it shatters and knocks him flat. You wince at the violence and he feels like pure shit. 

“I’m fine,” Wade calls from the ground, sticking a thumbs-up into the air. 

“Logan, I…” you clearly want to say something, but you have not been met with the Logan you knew. That Logan would have spent no time running to pick you up and hold you in his arms. This one half-snarls at the man he bloodied on the floor. 

There is an agonising silence, both of you wanting to speak but not being sure how. You take a hesitant step forward. 

“I never thought I’d…”

“How do I know it’s you?”

You recoil like he’s stabbed you with his claws, confusion and hurt flooding your face. Goddamn. He is the worst man alive. He’s not sure if he’s saying it because he just wants to lash out at the nearest person, or…

… or if, because he gets his hopes up, it might just kill him to have them crash down again. 

“What?”

“All these fuckin’ timelines. How do I know? How can I be sure that you’re you?”

The sadness in your face melts away into anger. When you step forward this time, you’re on the warpath. He sees the others in the room cringe, trapped now in this caustic reunion. 

“How can you be sure it’s me? Fuck, Logan, I knew it was you, didn’t I? What do you want? You want me to show you the shitty tattoo I got after we first started dating and we were both drunk?” You lift your sleeve to reveal a little design on your shoulder. “Want me to tell you how an eighteen-year-old Marie was my bridesmaid and she cried because she didn’t think anyone would ever be that kind to her after living as a mutant again? Want me to fucking remind you that in my vows I said I would be by your side, for fucking ever, no matter what - and how when that TVA agent zapped me when I was out for the day and I ended up here, it was only the thought of fulfilling those vows which kept me going? How about all that, or do I fucking need to humiliate myself more?” At this, you gesture to the others who have lined up at the side of the room, trying to look scarce but utterly failing. 

Your shoulders are heaving with emotions, tears hot and heavy in your eyes but not yet spilling over. Logan grits his jaw. Yeah. It’s you. 

“I…” he starts, but trails off when he realises there’s nothing he can say. You shake your head, numb. 

“Fuck you, Logan Howlett,” you spit, words you’ve never ever thrown his way before, and run out of the room. 

“Wow. Aced that one, peanut,” says Wade, and Logan rips off one of his legs. 

He finds you several hours later at a campfire outside the rundown building which makes up headquarters. LeBeau has clearly been kind enough to part with some of his liquor, because you’re gulping down whiskey like it’s air. You stare at him, embers dancing in bitter eyes. 

“What do you want?” you snap. He grunts as he sits down opposite you, either from age or exertion. Stares into the flames. 

“I never stopped looking,” he manages. 

You blink. 

“What?”

“I never…” he shifts uncomfortably. It’s been a long time since he bared this much of his soul. “I never stopped. Even when the others told me to give up, that I would only make it worse for myself, I’d still search. Couldn’t face the idea you weren’t there any more.”

It’s true. If he was twelve bottles deep he’d be looking, if he was hungover as a dog he’d be looking. When the rest of the X-Men were still there and even after they weren’t. If he wasn’t sitting at a bar he was on the streets, ever a bloodhound trying to catch your scent again. 

For the first time you soften. 

“Oh.”

“So… when I asked if it was you… ah, fuck. I didn’t mean to come off as an asshole. Just couldn’t live with it if it wasn't true. Wasn’t real.”

When you stand he expects a slap. He deserves it. What he doesn’t count on is you sitting down - not on the log next to him, but in his lap. He hasn’t felt you do that for so long, and it’s so good. Your warmth on his thigh. You grab one of his hands, still larger than yours, and press it to your chest so he can feel your beating heart. 

“I’m real, Logan. I’m right here, baby,” you whisper, eyes dewy. Fuck. His are as well; he can’t help it. He’s overwhelmed by you, your feel, your gaze, your smell. He’d forgotten how much he loved it. 

Logan noses upwards against you, searching for your lips, and you let him find them. When you stroke his hair he can feel the wedding ring on your left hand. The kiss is desperate, longing, and the best one he’s ever had. 

“Right here,” you repeat, forehead against his. He grips you so tightly that it’s possible he’ll never let go again. 

[lovelettersfromluna]

⋆ ★ Once again, for the first time ⋆ ★

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: Being in love with your best friend has got to be one of the most emotionally exhausting things someone can experience, so it’s time you put your foot down and moved on….at least, try to move on

an: God it almost feels wrong to just come back after so long without a continuing chapter to what I’ve been working on, pls don’t be mad at me 😵‍💫. I’ve been really busy you guys! I just got home yesterday and while I know you’ve all be asking for other things, I just haven’t been feeling super inspired to continue them RIGHT NOW, and I feel that’s why I’ve been MIA for so long. While I say I’m not inspired to continue them right now, that doesn’t mean I’m abandoning them! I will be coming back to them don’t worry! For now, I hope this little angsty fic is enough for you all, and I hope you’ve stuck around to read it, and if you haven’t, that’s okay too. Anyways, I’ve missed you all so much, and I hope you like this one 🖤🖤🖤.

Warnings: ANGST!!! Eventual smut in future chapters, Ellie is an oblivious idiot, Quiet!reader, momentary alternative love interest (it’s just for the story I promise 😉), jealous!Ellie, possessive!Ellie, Please let me know if I missed anything!

Part 2 can be read, here!

The warm glow of your tv screen became blurry with each passing second. You could barely make out the erratic movements of the video game characters beating each other to a pulp as Ellie’s fingers tapped away at the buttons on the game controller, soft huffs leaving here lips ever so often. “Fucking dick..” She mumbled under her breath, eyebrows knit in deep concentration, eyes almost growing watery from her lack of blinking.

You on the other hand, you were nearly fast asleep. Cuddled into your sofa, resting your head against a pillow that was propped up against the arm of the couch, a plush blanket draped over your body as you watched your best friend control a scantily clad character to violently fight the opposite person.

This was tradition for you and Ellie. She’d come over, you would force her to study with you because she was often too stubborn to do it without you, you’d order shitty take out, watch her play video games, and then you’d fall asleep. It always ended with her dragging you to your bedroom, staying with you for a bit before she left, and then in the morning, she’d be waiting for you outside your apartment to go to school together.

And that was life, life with your best friend that is. It had been that way since you were practically babies, your routines changing and adapting to whatever phase of life you were both in within that moment, but it was always more or less the same. And you couldn’t complain, you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Not even if you were given the chance to have her as something more.

Ellie had always been a charmer, and unfortunately, the extent of her charming demeanor had made its way to you. It was something you noticed early on, as soon as you were able to decipher feelings of love, you were able to link those with Ellie. When people would explain love to you, or you’d see it in others, you thought of Ellie. You realized quickly after that though, that Ellie was your best friend, and feelings would greatly complicate the long history that you two had together.

And so, you swallowed them down.

It wasn’t like it was painful or anything. Sure, seeing Ellie with other girls wasn’t great, but you coped. Life went on, and you promised yourself you’d never let your feelings get in the way of Ellie’s life, your life, or your friendship.

“Man…I’d let Mileena rip my head off any day…” Ellie sighed out, the girl never a stranger to gawking at the make believe video game characters in her favorite games. You let out a sleepy hum, giving her a nod as you cuddled further into the couch, not fully able to comprehend your friends words due to your sleepy state.

The sounds you made caught Ellie’s attention, causing her to sit forward a bit so she could catch a glimpse of your nearly sleeping face. She chuckled softly, shaking her head a bit as she reached forward for the controller, turning off the console followed by the tv before she stood up, taking your hand in hers and pulling you slightly.

“You have the energy of a seventy year old woman…come on, let’s get you to bed grandma” she teased, and it only causes you to whine softly. The couch is so comfortable, and you’re more than happy with sleeping there for the night just so you didn’t have to move and lose the blissful drowsy feeling that came with the sounds of Ellie playing Mortal Kombat lulling you to sleep.

“I’m fine here…” You tried, knowing that she wouldn’t settle for you sleeping there on the couch all night. And she didn’t need to be told twice, she let out a soft hum, one that almost sounded like she’d leave you there, but suddenly you’re being lifted off of the couch, into Ellie’s strong chest, even stronger arms wrapping around your body, which once again caused you to whine.

No matter how tired you were, how close to sleep, you can’t ignore the burning fire in your chest when she holds you like this. Even though being Ellie’s friend was the furthest thing from painful, it was times like this that it got a little too hard. Ellie was always a very affectionate person, especially with people she was close to, and you happened to be at the top on that list.

So, when she’d do things like this, pull you up into her arms and carry you to bed, or slip her arms around your waist and spoon you from behind when you were watching movies together, or when she’d pull you close to her when you were in a crowded room, it was easy to imagine how things would be if it were different, if you were able to have her in the way you wanted.

Only for a moment though.

Ellie hummed softly as she gently rested you on your bed, making sure to pull your socks off because she knew you’d kick them off in your sleep anyways, and pull the blanket, not the duvet, over your body because it was how you preferred to sleep. She knew exactly what to do with you, and it always made your heart tug.

She smiled softly down at you, watching as your heavy eyes grew even heavier once your head hit your soft pillows. She gave your elbow a gentle nudge before she turned off the lights in your room, closed the door, and left your apartment.

And even though you were already falling asleep, you couldn’t ignore the urge you had to ask her to stay. The urge you always had to ask her to stay with you.

You let out a soft yawn, rubbing your eyes a bit before you began writing down in your notebook again. Your headphones played soft music into your ears, the blessing of a noise cancelling headset always making it easy to study in your college library, for a moment, pretending as if you were the only one there.

Until Ellie showed up.

She gently pulled one side of your headset up, her lips close to your ear as she approached you. “Hey stranger” she giggled softly, causing you to whine as you pulled the headset down to rest against your neck. You gave your friend a soft smile as you set your pen down, watching as she promptly took the seat next to you and tossed her bag onto the table.

“Hey yourself…came all the way to the library to see me?” You teased her, propping your elbows onto the table and resting your head against your hands as you watched her slump down into her chair, oversized hoodie hanging on her broad shoulders, light washed denim jeans hanging loose on her hips, short hair lazily tugged up into her signature half up half down ponytail, pretty strands falling down and framing her face perfectly.

God she was a fucking dream.

Ellie groaned softly, her head falling back as she blew air past her lips, staring up at the ceiling of the library. “I have time between classes…so I came to bother my favorite little scholar” She hummed out, giving you a lazy grin as she turned her head back towards you, causing you to roll your eyes at her words.

“You know, you could use this time to study” you try, narrowing your eyes at her playfully, which causes her to roll her eyes right back at you. “Ahhh, please. You’re probably the only one here that actually does that shit” she hummed out, which causes you to shrug, closing your books and stacking them upon one another. “True, but I have the grades to show for it” you nod to herself before you push your things to the side, turning back to your friend and giving her your attention.

“So? What’s happening. You look like you’re just itching to tell me something” you smirked softly, knowing your friend all too well. Whenever became fidgety, or absolutely needed to find you, there was something on her mind.

Ellie smirked softly, staring down at her ring clad fingers before she let out a soft hum, purposefully keeping you waiting with anticipation before she began speaking.

“Do you think Sofia is into girls?”

For a moment, the twinkle in your eye, and the soft smile on your lips as you watch your best friend drops completely. You’re glad she isn’t looking, because you’re sure anyone would be able to see the visible disappointment written on your face as soon as she says it. You only let it fall for a moment though, because you’re immediately collecting yourself, picking yourself up off the ground and giving your friend a soft, reassuring nod.

“Has being straight ever stopped a girl from being into you Ellie?” You tease her, recalling the frequent times girls claimed they were straight, yet somehow always ended up chasing after Ellie after they’ve had one too many drinks.

Ellie groans softly, shaking her head as she sits forward a bit. “No man…I don’t wanna just hook up with her..or..or be her fantasy or something. I wanna…ask her out or something” she mumbled out, cheeks burning red as she toyed with the shiny rings on her fingers. You blink a few times, trying to find the right words to encourage your friend to do it, to pursue whoever it was that she wanted.

No matter how much the words tasted bitter on your tongue.

“Well…ask her, or you can ask around? A close friend of hers would definitely know if she was interested in girls or not” you tried again, watching as your friend frowned in concentration, eyebrows furrowed, green eyes narrowed.

Whoever this girl was, Ellie was doing her head in over her….

It almost bothered you that this was your first time hearing about her.

“You think? I’ve just…I’ve had my eye on her for a while and I think I’m ready to finally make a move, you know?” She sighed out, and you nod slowly, giving her a soft smile paired with a reassuring nod.

“Then go for it, Els. The worst she can say is no, and even then, there are plenty of other fish in the sea” you assure her. Because it’s true, Ellie never stayed single for long. There were always girls interested in her, or her them, and it wasn’t long until she was introducing you to a new, pretty girl that she’d have on her arm for the next however many months.

She smiled softly as she nodded, your words clearly getting through to her, as they always did. She gives a determined nod, moving to stand up from the chair she was sat at. “You’re damn right there is…hey, I’m gonna try to find someone to talk to, but I’ll catch you later, yeah?” She nods, slinging her bag over one of her shoulders, already walking away from the table as her eyes never left yours.

You give her a soft nod, eyes lingering on her form as you let out a low hum. “Always” you confirm, knowing that it was true. You’d always be there when Ellie needed you.

She beamed back at you, giving you a nod. You could practically see the excitement shining off of her body, seeping through her pores. “And I’ll catch you this weekend! Your place!” She shouted, causing your eyes to widen at her volume, the other students instantly shushing her. You give her a quick nod, your hands fanning away as you shoo her out of the library, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

You ignore the little cracks in your heart, because the smile on her face makes up for it. You know it’ll pass, you know this is merely a phase of your life that you’ll look back on and laugh at once you’ve found the person that was right for you, one that filled up the little holes that Ellie left in your heart.

And oh how you couldn’t wait for that day to come.

You don’t see Ellie that following weekend.

In fact, the last time you actually saw her was that day in the library, with the few times you saw her in and out of classes that the two of you shared.

Ellie ended up talking to Sofia that same day, and it turns out she was interested in girls. From the texts that she sent you that night, she was raving about the day that they had set up after hours of talking out in the courtyard. She tells you she’s sorry, that she can’t make it out to your place for your routine weekend together, and you tell her it’s fine, to have fun and tell you all about the date the next morning.

And suddenly, you can’t remember the last time you spent more than five minutes with your best friend.

You text here and there, and she catches you outside of class when you happen to make it there at the same time sometimes, but you don’t really have lunch together anymore like you always do, you don’t sit outside in the courtyard to kill time between classes together, she doesn’t visit you in the library, all of those things just suddenly stop.

And then she tells you, she’s dating Sofia.

She tells you they made it official after the first four dates, and at first you feel it’s a bit fast, but you realize they spend all of the time that you and Ellie used to spend together, with each other instead, and it suddenly makes sense. Ellie had a girlfriend now, and it was the explanation for the sudden lack of her presence, the absence of your best friend on weekends. While you stared at your tv screen alone, she was with Sofia.

And you were happy for her, of course you were happy, why wouldn’t you be? She was your best friend and she had gotten the girl she wanted for so long, just as you expected she would…

But the happiness you felt for her lived alongside the sadness that you felt. The two emotions becoming tenants in the home that was your heart, sitting across one another, glaring at each other as they battled for control of you, controlling how you dealt with the situation, how you coped with the sudden disappearance of your best friend.

So, you didn’t give either one control, you ignored them both after a while, and you simply carried on as if nothing had ever happened.

Ellie really was the only person you occupied any free time with, opting to be with her rather than anyone else, because it felt good. You liked it when it was just you and Ellie, it was easy, and it was easy to not overthink things and simply be, rather than worry about how you were behaving.

So without her, you simply did all the things you did with her, just on your own.

Ellie tried to make time for you, while juggling the escapades that come with the early stages of a relationship, you couldn’t take that away from her, but you saw how hard it was. You didn’t want her to feel bad, or feel like she was neglecting you, or her friendship, even if she sort of was. You convinced her it was fine, that she deserved to enjoy her new relationship, and that it needed more attention than your friendship ever would, not right now at least.

And Sofia was great. She was beautiful, and kind, and sweet, and after meeting her a few times, you considered her to be somewhat of a big sister figure. Seeing her made it clear to understand just why Ellie was so keen on taking her off the market as soon as she could.

But that seemed to make it even harder to deal with.

It was on days like this one where it hit you a bit harder, Ellie’s absence. You didn’t mind being alone, but walking to and from classes without her constant banter and jokes definitely wasn’t the best, and heading out to the cafes for lunch was far too quiet on your own, but, you prevailed.

You were making your way out of your third and last class for the day, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. The week was finally closing in, and you couldn’t be happier. You yearned for the warmth of your home, your cozy little bed, your favorite mug filled with your favorite hot chocolate, it called to you as you pushed past the large doors of your college building, making your way out to the brisk outdoors of your campus.

The sound of quickening footsteps behind you was almost drowned out as you took your headphones from behind your neck, and began setting them onto your head. A hand suddenly pulled them down, forcing them back around your neck, which caused your eyebrows to furrow as you turned around to see who in their right mind would try to fuck with a girl and her music.

You almost passed out when you were met face to face with your best friend.

Seeing her made you realize just how long it had been since you saw her. You tried convincing herself it had only been a few weeks, but you found it hard to remember the last time you were staring up into those big green eyes, and not imagining them instead.

Your frown was quickly replaced with a soft smile, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you stared up at Ellie. “Ellie…god…I was ready to start throwing punches” you joked, pulling your headset from around your neck and pushing them down into your beg before you looked back up at her.

Ellie chuckled softly, watching as you went about putting your things away. Her smile was so bright, eyes twinkling, cheeks red, all signs that pointed towards the same thing.

Ellie Williams was properly smitten.

“I’ve been looking for you, dork…you’re always hiding these days” she groaned out, which caused you to hum softly, giving her a slight shrug. “Been busy studying Els…I’m sorry” you tried, giving her a half smile.

Knowing that your studying was not the cause of the divide in your friendship, and neither was it you hiding.

She pouted softly, stepping forward so that you two could walk together. “I miss you…” She hummed out, staring down at the Nikes on her feet, nearly swallowed up by her baggy jeans. Her words make your heart tug as you stare up towards the large trees, swaying with the autumn wind, sun peeking in between the thick foliage of the leaves.

“How are you And Sof? Things going well?” You questioned, opting to ignore the way you heart beat faster when she said she missed you. You were also genuinely curious, you wanted to hear more about Ellie’s relationship, you wanted her to confide in you and trust you as anyone else would trust their best friend with their relationship.

Ellie instantly smiled bashfully at the mention of the girl, a soft hum leaving her lips as she nodded. “Fuck…she’s amazing, man. She’s like a fucking dream, I swear, I’m honestly not sure what I’ve done to deserve her” she sighed out, voice sounding so dreamy and love sick, you can’t help but smile.

“You like her…don’t you? I mean…you’re my best friend, your approval is one that’s pretty fucking important to me” she chuckled out as she looked over at you, head dipping down a bit to try and her a glimpse of your down casted face, her hands shoved into her pocket.

Her words make you hum, and you’re giving her a soft smile as you look up at her. Her expression is written with one that is concerned, concerned that you approve of her relationship, that you think she’s making the right move with Sofia.

And you know in that moment, you have the power to break it all. You have the power to rip things to shreds, just by telling Ellie you think Sofia isn’t the right girl for her, because you know she’ll listen to you. You know she’ll take your feelings into consideration, because she trusts you.

“I think she’s perfect for you, Ellie” you breath out, giving her a reassuring smile.

Because just as much as you know you have the power to be horrible, and rip everything away from them both, Ellie doesn’t deserve that, and neither does Sofia. They don’t deserve to hurt for the sake of your feelings, at the expense of what you feel for Ellie.

And the smile you see your best friend shoot your way makes it all worth it, because it’s like she’s been waiting for those words to leave your lips to go all the way, to give herself to Sofia completely and give into her as she wanted to this entire time.

“Fuck…you don’t know how happy that makes me” she sighs out, looking up towards the sky and letting her eyes flutter shut as she takes a deep inhale, and you know she’s truly happy.

And that makes you happy.

“Hey, are you busy next weekend? There’s a party Sof and I are going to, you should come with us” she says as she looks down towards you. You know it’s a bad idea, because it means you’ll third wheel the entire night, tucked away in a corner to avoid watching them make out all night long until it’s time to go home, where you’ll be just as miserable there as you are in your house.

But you know Ellie won’t take no for an answer.

You let out a soft sigh before you give her a nod, paired with a half smile, and she’s already cheering loudly, causing people around you to stare, and you groan softly as you give her a gentle shove, urging her to stop.

“I’ll text you the details! Sof and I will pick you up” she confirmed, and you give her a soft giggle before you nod. “Get out of here…I’ll see you then” you promise, and she’s smiling brightly as she begins walking away.

And despite the fact that it’s the first time you’ve talked to her in far too long, and it was mainly about her girlfriend, you can’t ignore the way your heart ignites for that small interaction on its own, and the excitement you feel knowing you have plans with her in the near future.

It’ll be fine, you remind yourself. It always has been, and it always will be. And with that, you made your way home.

The following week, is when you met Alex.

You were making your way to your first class of the day, the early morning sun shining down on you, giving you only a bit of warmth from the brisk air that swirled around you and the other students scattered about within the large courtyard that served as a main point sprouting out to all other campus buildings.

Your eyes were trained on your feet, a habit you had that had caused you to run into many people, many times. It was an easy way for you to stay deep in thought, focusing on the way your shoes sounded hitting the pavement with each steps, watching as they crunched against leaves.

“Excuse me?” A soft voice broke you away from your locked gaze on your feet, your eyes blinking a few times as you looked up to figure out who it was that was trying to get your attention.

When you laid eyes on the person looking at you, you nearly passed out.

It was a girl, she was tall, with pretty eyes and a charming smile. Her jacket hung loosely on her shoulders, bag draped over one of her arms, a paper in one of her hands. Her features were strong, yet soft at the same time, mixing together both masculine and feminine and almost making your mind go completely blank as her beautiful eyes stared into yours.

“Um…could you help me? It’s my first day and I’m sort of lost” she chuckled out bashfully, her hand reaching up to run through her hair as she tried handing you the paper in her hand. You simply blinked a few times, watching the girl almost in awe as she stared down at you, before you realized you were in fact gawking at this woman.

You cleared your throat, giving her a quick nod before you giggled. “Yes! Yea…sorry..I…can I?” You question as you gestured towards the paper, which caused her to chuckle softly and nod as she handed it to you.

Your eyes scanned over the paper, furrowing a bit in concentration before you zeroed in on the first class she has in her schedule, and it made you smile.

“Oh, that’s where I’m going! You must be the new transfer student the professor was talking about” you explain, your heart beating a bit faster as you come to the conclusion that not only is this insanely hot girl speaking to you, but she’s also in your first class of the day.

She smiles brightly, pearly white teeth flashing your way as she raises her eyebrows. “No way…would you mind if I walked with you then?” She hums out, eyeing you carefully before you look up at her from the paper, giving her a shy smile as you nod. “I wouldn’t mind at all…come on”

You learn that her name is Alex, and that she was supposed to start the semester with everyone else, but there were issues with her documents so she had to transfer instead. The entire way to class, you take your time together, strolling along the pathways and hallways of your school, getting to know one another. You realize that although it’s your first conversation with her, you feel as comfortable with her as you do with…

As you do with Ellie.

When you realize that, you realize that you’d gone the longest without thinking about Ellie than you had in a long time. Alex takes her off your mind completely, because she’s pretty, and her smile makes you swoon, and being with her feels comfortable.

And you reckon you could get used to it.

When you both finally reach your classroom, there are students scattered about, waiting for the professor to arrive and for the lecture to start. You hum softly as you look over at your usual seat, turning around to look up at Alex. “I sit over there…there’s an empty right next to me if you want” you suggest.

The empty seat used to be taken up by Ellie before she started dating Sofia.

Alex smiles brightly as she nods before you can even finish your words, and that alone prompts you to grab her hand and drag her along through all of the seats to get to the two seats tucked away in the corner, the ones you used to look forward to making your way to almost every day that you had class.

When you two are settled, you fall into a comfortable conversation, your head resting against your hand as you listen to her speak. She tells you about her old school, about her favorite books and movies, her favorite music. You’re so caught up in the conversation with Alex…

That you don’t even notice Ellie walk into the room.

She walks in as she usually does these days, laughing softly at something Sofia said, her arm draped around the girls waist, keeping her close. Had it been any other day, she would’ve made her way down to the usual seats in the front that she has recently taken with Sofia, but the sound of our laugh quickly catches her attention.

At first, she realizes she hasn’t heard the loud sound in quite some time. The only thing she’d received from you in the small moments she shared with you were tiny giggles, or small hums, but never that deep, belly laugh that she loved so much.

Then, when she looks at you, head tilting back as you cover your lips, laughing loudly at something she was oblivious to, her eyes finally fall on the person your body is turned towards. A head of short hair and a leather clad, broad back is turned towards her, and suddenly Ellie is frowning.

Because that seat, is hers.

Ellie gives Sofias waist a soft tap, mumbling for her to wait for her at their seats as she presses a soft kiss to her cheek, green eyes never leaving you and Alex as she continues to make you laugh uncontrollably.

She doesn’t think about much, other than the annoyance she feels that someone is in her seat, regardless of the fact that she’d left that seat empty, leaving you alone for weeks on end. All she knows, is that she doesn’t like that someone is sitting in her seat, she doesn’t like that this is the first time she’s heard you laugh in weeks…..

And she sure as hell doesn’t like that it’s this mystery person that is causing that laugh in the first place.

“I know! I can’t believe you like that show too, I was convinced that-“ your words are cut off by the dark, looking presence that is suddenly hanging over you and Alex. It makes you frown softly, looking up to find a very angry Ellie standing in front of both you and Alex.

“Ellie? Hey! What are you doing here?” You question softly, unable to remember the last time you’d seen Ellie up there at those seats with you. The question is genuine, and for a moment you assume something might be wrong, but Ellie’s expression seems to be even more annoyed than when she first got there.

Instead, Ellie completely disregards your question, the girl annoyed with how innocent and genuine your words are, your big eyes blinking up at her with a twinge of worry as you await her reasoning for being there with you. She looks at Alex, her tongue pressing against her cheek before she nods her head towards the seat she’s sitting in. “That’s my seat” she deadpans, not leaving any room for argument.

Alex raises her eyebrows, staring up at Ellie before she turns to you for a moment, humming casually as she gives a half shrug. “I was told no one sits here anymore” she hummed out, staring up at Ellie in a challenging manner. It causes Ellie to scoff softly, rolling her eyes before she inhales deeply, and you know it’s because she’s trying to control her temper.

“Well I do, so you should find a different seat” she barks back, her tone progressively becoming more and more irritated with Alex. Alex simply chuckles softly, clearly taking Ellie for a joke as she sighs out. “Doesn’t have your name on it…so I’m not going anywhere” she finishes off, clearly done with the conversation with Ellie. Ellie raises her eyebrows, finally looking over at you as if to silently ask if you’re just going to let someone speak to your best friend that way.

And it annoys you to no end.

It annoys you because Ellie didn’t care about the seat for the past however many weeks since she’d been dating Sofia, you were sure it had been a good month at least, and suddenly she cares about it when someone is taking up the spot.

Taking up her spot.

You frown softly, staring up at your friend before you let out a soft sigh. “I think Sofia is waiting for you, Ellie” you try, giving her a slight nod as if to remind her that her girlfriend was in fact waiting for her down at the bottom of the sea of chairs. You hope it’ll clear her head, and whatever this sudden urge to come and check up on you with it. You see a flash of something ripple across her face, something you can’t quite make out for a moment, but once you do, it’s clear as day.

Betrayal.

She inhales deeply, eyes never leaving yours, only when they dart over to Alex. She wants to stay and say more, try to get the idiot next to you to sit somewhere else, anywhere else, but suddenly you’re turning your attention back to Alex, a soft smile on your lips as you fall back into conversation with her as if Ellie wasn’t standing right over the both of you. Ellie feels like she could burn a hole through the floorboards with how much it makes her seethe.

And the worst part is? She couldn’t even understand why it made her feel that way.

Soon, she’s stomping off like a child, down the stairs of the lecture room towards Sofia. She gives you an apologetic look from her spot at the bottom where she sits with Ellie, and it makes you so confused because why is she even looking at you that way? As if she was to blame for her girlfriends behavior? You give her a small smile back, and she turns around towards Ellie, her small hands rubbing the girls back gently as she bent her head down and pressed a soft kiss to her head.

You eye them for a moment, but your eyes don’t linger like they used to. You’re quickly looking back at Alex as she speaks to you, making you forget all about the very strange behavior your best friend just exhibited.

“Sorry about that…she’s…she’s great, I promise. I’m sure you two would like each other” you nod, giving Alex a reassuring smile. Alex hums in response as she looks down at Ellie, her eyes narrowing down at her for a moment before she nods. “I’m sure we would” she smiles out, and you can tell despite the rude interaction they just had, she’s genuine, and she seems to want to know more about Ellie.

But you save that for later, because you’d much rather get to know Alex than talk about Ellie.

[ellecdc]

Dude, I read the one where you talked about pregnant reader and you said it'll be a cute fic.... are you really gonna write it!!? Poly moonwater with pregnant reader!?? Will you? Will you? Will you!!?? Please, will you!!!!!???

well.....since you asked so nicely........👀

poly!moonwater x afab fem!reader who finds out she's expecting

CW: mentions of pregnancy, how people get pregnant (nothing discussed in detail, SFW and minors), reader is concerned the boys will leave her, reader wishes to keep the pregnancy, based off a discussion on this post.

Now that you knew, you weren’t sure how you could honestly feel surprised. In fact, now you were kind of surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner. 

For all the claims that wizardingkind makes to be ahead of the curve in comparison to muggles, they don’t exactly have the best contraceptives. 

Potions are fine if you remember to take them, the same can be said about charms, and condoms are a foreign concept to the likes of wizarding society.

You’d been feeling so incredibly exhausted lately, and it had gotten to the point that you couldn’t make it through the day without having at least one nap. It was when you’d actually fallen asleep at the dinner table that Regulus started to fret, though Remus found it terribly funny at the time. 

Then came the aches and pains that never seemed to dull no matter what you did. You’d tried potions, over the counter muggle medications, hot baths, cold showers, lying flat, sitting up – nothing stopped the aches that seemed intent on plaguing you. Remus had even given you full body massages that, whilst absolutely heavenly, did absolutely fuck all. 

“Maybe you’re coming down with something?” He’d queried, holding the back of his hand to your head. “Reg? Can you bring me the thermometer?”

You swore you heard whatever Regulus had been fussing with in the kitchen fall unceremoniously onto the counter in his haste to come over to you.

“Why? Is she poorly?” He asked severely, placing the back of his hand against your head like Remus had, only far more aggressively and to the point that it actually made a slapping sound as it made contact.

“Och, babe! If she wasn’t poorly yet she’ll surely have a concussion now!” Remus chided, pushing Regulus’ hand away and cradling your head protectively to his chest.

Needless to say, the thermometer didn’t pick up a fever either. 

So, when you woke up the next morning and spent most of the day hunched over the toilet bowl, Reg insisted you see a Healer.

Once the Healer started to ask the more...pointed questions, the pieces all started to click together in your mind.

Are you sexually active? Yes.

When was your last menstrual cycle? They weren’t exactly regular so... you supposed it had been late.

Any nausea? Yes.

Fatigue. Uh-huh.

Body or muscle pain? Fuckin’ hells.

So now you were standing outside of yours, Remus', and Regulus’ shared flat with a copy of your test results in your hand wondering what in the buggering fuck you were going to do now.

Both Regulus and Remus were pretty set on not wanting children of their own. They loved children, and they were both really good with children (in their own, very different ways); but with Regulus’ past, his family's reputation, and “the sodding inbreeding, amour; I’d be surprised if it didn’t come out with everything upside down and backwards”, he was sure that it’d be better for everyone if he stayed childless.

And Remus.

Poor, sweet Remus.

Too ashamed of his own affliction to a) pass it onto his own biological child or b) force any child to live with the knowledge that they had a ‘monster’ for a father.

And that was that.

Children just wasn’t in the cards for you three.

Yet here you were...

Suddenly, you weren’t just worried; you were terrified.

They didn’t want this, they never wanted this. They had always been clear about that. They could have been more careful to prevent this, but here you were.

Here you were.

There you stood; outside of your shared flat, unable to bring yourself to open the door.

They were going to leave you; they’d leave you, surely. Yeah?

They didn’t want this.

They wouldn’t want you. 

Fuck.

“For the love of Circe, I’m jus- Salazar’s saggy balls, Y/N!” Regulus said as he stumbled in the doorway, startled after having been in the middle of shouting something over his shoulder only to nearly collide with you. “How long have you been standing out here?”

You stared dumbly at him; you weren’t ready to go inside. You weren’t ready to have this conversation.

Too bad.

“Not long?” You stated in the form of a question. He furrowed his brows and looked you up and down before offering you his hand up the two steps to your doorway. 

“I was just opening the doors and windows; you’re lovely boyfriend tried to make us dinner.” He explained with a fond eyeroll, stepping into the flat and squinting through the smoke flooding the living space.

“Yeah, yeah. Last time I try something new in the kitchen.” Remus muttered as he threw away an entire baking dish.

“What was it supposed to be again, sweetheart?” Regulus asked with a mischievous smirk you knew he picked up from spending too much time with Remus, Sirius, and James.

“Just never you mind, you tosser. Hi dove.” He muttered to Regulus, though his tone changed dramatically once he turned to you, his eyes softening as he took in your form.

“How was your appointment?”

Your appointment? Your appointment. The appointment you just had. The appointment where you found out. The appointment where you were told you were pregnant. That appointment. The appointment you were still holding the slip for. The slip with your results. The slip with your pregnancy test results. The slip with your positive pregnancy test results.

That appointment.

“I-”

And you took off to the bathroom, slammed the door behind you and heaved into the toilet. 

There was a gentle knock on the door as you sat back against the tub with your knees to your chest, trying to catch your breath. “Dove?”

Another knock.

“Okay, we’re coming in.” Came Regulus’ more authoritarian voice through the door before it slowly opened to allow both of them entrance.

Remus had to fold himself a number of times in order to sit on the bathroom floor beside you whilst Reg flushed the toilet (while you flushed in embarrassment) and closed the lid to sit on it, facing you and Remus. 

“Did you get any answers from the healer?” Regulus asked quietly.

You smothered a humourless scoff and nodded your head in the affirmative. 

The boys let you sit there with your head laid back onto the edge of the tub and your eyes closed before Regulus couldn’t seem to handle it anymore.

“And? Are you... okay?”

You took in a deep breath and pulled that paper - now crumpled within your fist - cast a gemino duplication spell on it and handed one to each boy. 

You curled yourself inward and rested your forehead on your knees, reminding yourself to breathe even though you knew these two men now knew that you were expecting, that you were expecting their child. 

It could have been moments, or it could have been hours; but it was Remus who broke the silence.

“Pregnant?” He whispered on an exhale.

You cautiously raised your head to look over at him by your side, noticing that his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

You brought him to tears.

He never wanted this.

He wouldn’t want you.

“You’re really pregnant?” He asked again.

You nodded and swallowed around your gag reflex; unsure whether the nausea was nerves or...pregnancy related.

“You’re...” Reg started, still looking down at the paper in his hands. “You’re... gonna have a baby?” He whispered in awe.

You felt your brows furrow when you heard an emotional chuckle from beside you.

You turned back to see Remus wiping tears away from his eyes as he looked back down at his own paper in front of him.

“We’re gonna have a baby?” Remus corrected, nudging Regulus’ calf with his foot.

“Wait, you... you guys aren’t upset?” You asked urgently. Both boys snapped to attention to look at you in various degrees of worry or horror.

“Upset!?” Remus gawked as Regulus started shaking his head emphatically.

“Why? Why would you be worried of such a thing?”

You shook your own head and looked down at your hands as you began picking at your nailbeds. “Neither of you were ever interested in having kids of your own.” 

“Oh, dovey.” Remus cooed and quickly pulled you into his side. “When was the last time we talked about this, huh? When we first graduated Hogwarts? I think we could manage a kid now, yeah?”

“Or four.” Regulus added, causing you and Remus to straighten up significantly.

“Four!?” You and Remus chorused.

“Since when did you want kids?” You questioned incredulously.

“The moment I saw you hold Harry for the first time.” He answered without hesitation. 

“Ha ha.” Remus taunted. “Mine was watching her shop for Lily’s baby shower.” 

“What!?” You nearly screeched.

Regulus sighed before ultimately moving to sit on the floor on your other side; you knew this was very serious considering he was a notorious germ freak. 

“I was always a little afraid of having kids of my own, you’re right. I mean, you’ve seen the way that Sirius and I turned out, yeah?”

You and Remus scoffed at that.

“I just hated the idea of ever being anything like my parents, because that’s all I know. Or I guess, that was all I knew. But... I think you guys have taught me an awful lot.”

You watched Regulus’ stormy grey eyes as they moved between you and Remus. “You’ve both taught me to slow down, to be more patient, to see the fun in the mess and the burnt food and the change of plans. You’ve taught me that I won’t perish if I sit on the bathroom floor for a minute. And, I think most importantly, you’ve taught me how to love. And when I see how happy Harry is, I realize that’s all a kid really needs, yeah? Love?”

“You... you really want a child? This child?” You asked in a whisper.

Regulus’s face turned heartbroken for a moment. “You’re child? Absolutely, amour. There was never any doubt.”

“I always thought I’d pass on only the worst parts of me to any child.” Remus added, turning your attention to him. “But I find I’m only ever my best self when I’m around the two of you. And any child that’s even a fraction of either of you, well, I’d be one... one lucky man to call them mine.” He whimpered the end of his sentence before breaking out into a sob.

“Oh, Rem.” You murmured empathetically, pulling his larger frame into your side. He chuckled through happy tears as he moved one of his hands tentatively to your abdomen.

“A baby...” Regulus breathed, looking back at the paper in his hands. “We’re really going to have a baby?”

You and Remus exchanged a shy glance, understanding seeming to pass between the two of you before you both turned back to Regulus.

“We’re going to have a baby.” You concurred. 

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:35 pm]

“I don’t think it’s ever been this quiet when I’ve been here,” you told Fratboy!Jaehyun.

He laughed, “you’ve spent the night before haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah but you have nocturnal friends. I can wake up in the middle of the night and find 3 people awake and yelling at their computers,” you reply, playing with Jaehyun’s fingers.

“I think Taeyong offered to buy them all dinner or something,” Jaehyun shrugs running his unoccupied hand through your hair.

“For all of them?! That’s a lot of money!”

“He left out that they’d all be sharing McDonald’s nuggets and fries, I think he wanted to give us some alone time.”

You blinked up at Jaehyun innocently, “what could we possibly do with all this privacy?”

A cocky smirk took over his handsome features, "I can think of a few things."

Your laugh at his cheesiness was interrupted by his mouth meeting your own. Your hand untangled from his own in favor for meeting the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. His lips were warm and slightly chapped as his lips met your own for a chaste kiss. He pressed a series of close mouthed kisses to your lips before he slowly trailed the kisses to your neck.

"Love you Jaehyun," You sighed dreamily, distracted by the kisses that were being placed against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

"Yooo, what is goin' on?!" You heard.

Your eyes snapped open instantly while you pushed Jaehyun off of you to straighten out your shirt and try to act natural. Though it was entirely too late for that now based on the fact that Mark was standing in the doorway and you heard the rest of the goons running over.

You groaned, burying your face in the pillows to hide away from the upcoming onslaught of questions. Seconds later you heard them talking over one another, "what happened?" "What were you doing in Jaehyun's bed?" "What's on your neck?" "Why is Jaehyun on the floor?"

"Yo, so I came in and they were all over each other kissing and moaning and all gross with each other and then I heard, I love you Jaehyun," Mark recounted as he imitated your voice (quite horribly).

"When did that happen?" Johnny asked.

"Why wouldn't you tell us?" Yuta quickly added.

"Why wouldn't you pick me?!" Haechan screamed.

Jaehyun shot him an annoyed look before he sighed and addressed the rest of the group, "I wasn't ready to tell you guys because I knew you guys would get weird. Like, I get it, we're all friends but I don't really know why I owe you all these answers."

"Hello!" Johnny interrupts, "We live together, we're best friends, we want to see you happy- both of you."

"I just wanted us to have a little more time to ourselves before you guys all got too overbearing," Jaehyun replies sheepishly. At the sight of his ears starting to turn red, you take his hand into your grasp and rub your thumb on the back of his hand comfortingly.

"When have we ever been overbearing?" Doyoung asks.

"Mark came in without asking or knocking and now there are 6 guys standing in the room and 2 sitting on the bed. Before you all found out I'd get a text from at least one of you each week telling me to make a move because it was painful to watch us pine after each other and Jaehyun would quote never have the balls to make a move," you deadpan.

"Is that so wrong of us?" Jungwoo questions from the foot of the bed with puppy eyes.

"Yes!" You and Jaehyun exclaim.

"We were practically on the brink of making love," Jaehyun replies.

Mark laughs, "No you weren't bro." You snort, using a hand to cover your laugh before you try to mask it as a cough and avoiding Mark's gaze to avoid laughing.

"You can leave now," Jaehyun snaps, snatching his hand from your hold to cross his arms over his chest.

They all grumble as they shuffle out and roll their eyes. You go to speak but Jaehyun stops you with his index finger held up, "Haechan, that means you too. Get out."

"Whatever, you're my least favorite half of this couple anyway. When you get tired off his flat ass, call me," Haechan scoffs.

-

a/n: little shit haechan is my favorite recurring character in jaehyun works bc i love him

[feyascorner]

3 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You hate him, you think. You want to hate him, at the very least.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke."

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard, large chunks of italicized texts are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. redemption arc is coming i swear :) this is a whopping 4.7k i got kinda carried away but oh well,, Thank you so much for your comments on these they make my day and i appreciate each one<3

Dance upon the stars tonight

Smile and pain will fade away

“And what might our dear bard be working so passionately on?”

You look up from your notebook, ceasing the messy scribbling of lyrics into its tattered pages. Astarion perches himself beside you, the flames of the campfire flickering in the reflection of his eyes as you stop humming and raise a cautious brow. A vampire spawn. You’d never seen one in person–-only had you heard of them in your childhood tales of the spawn that would sweep away naughty children if they didn’t finish their vegetables. Up close, you can almost see his fangs protruding from the grin he's constantly wearing.

You wonder if it’s a genuine one.

“That bard at the grove today,” you recall. “Alfira? I’m trying to finish the lyrics and write them out for her.”

“Is that so? Surely you’re receiving some sort of payment for these gracious services?”

You train your eyes back onto the pages, shaking your head. “I’m doing this for fun. Her song is beautiful. It just needs—” you squint. “--adjustment.”

He laughs, and you can see the fangs clearly now. They’re sharper than you expected them to be. “I believe that’s a drastic understatement, my dear. My heart felt for those poor squirrels. I’m quite willing to bet that they have an aversion to bards now.”

“And you’re suddenly a musician yourself?”

“It doesn’t take a musician to recognize poor singing, darling Tav,” he returns. “And considering I’ve spent the past few days listening to your music, I’m sure you’ll understand why I considered it such an abomination.”

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you didn’t like me–or my music.”

“You? I'm still deciding,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes. “But I must say that I’m growing rather fond of that lyre of yours. Have you had it for long?”

You give him a sidelong glance before answering slowly. “I’ve had it for ages. Practically when I just started.”

“Explains itself then, I suppose.”

“And you?” you watch as he leans back on his palms. “Do you have any other talents to offer to our companions, or is it just your teeth?”

“Now, don’t be so cruel, dear,” he smiles wider. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re rather fond of them as well. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring all the time.”

“I’m on guard,” you clarify.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You’re not sure if you can sleep with one eye open, much less both of them closed. You’re not sure if you trust him at all, either, but as he stares up at the starry sky, simply listening to the crackling of the campfire, you decide you’d rather save yourself the energy for what awaits tomorrow.

“Why did you do that earlier?” you find yourself asking, and he replies by glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Do what?”

“Save Wyll from that goblin arrow,” you mumble. “I thought you didn't care about any of us.”

“And what gives you that impression?”

You deadpan, staring at him with lidded eyes and he laughs out loud. It sounds more genuine than anything else he’s offered so far. It's nice.

“It’s a simple transaction, dear. One where I receive protection in turn for the occasional aid I can give with my own blade.”

You squint at him, but you see no signs of deception. So instead, you simply nod and resume scribbling into your notebook, softly humming to yourself alongside the lyrics. And when you halt, stuck on a particular lyric that you can’t seem to remember, you hear him shift, standing himself back up to retreat to his tent.

“Something about faith and care comes next if my memory serves,” is all he says before striding away. While you watch him in confusion, you click your tongue and try to focus again. And when you look down at your page, you remember the rest of the words.

Somehow, you feel the corners of your lips lift.

“As much as I’d love for this to be a charming, long-awaited reunion, one of the parties imposes a danger to the other.”

You wince at the sarcasm dripping from Gale’s voice. Duke Ravengard’s expression remains solemn, unmoving like a stone, while your companion pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “We can’t harbor a vampire spawn in our home. We’re supposed to be finding them, not keeping them!”

You hate the irony of the statement because the camp you’d spent so many months in with an uninvited guest in your head, had also been your home. One where you spent your nights in a vampire spawn’s tent. It’s not so different, you keep telling yourself. But you’re painfully aware that the Duke only knows a sugar-coated version of the falling out between you and said vampire. He doesn’t know how his son had to tear Astarion away from you and how your voice had been sore for weeks afterward.

“As much as I have my own opinions with allying with a vampire spawn,” the Duke stares at Astarion warningly. “Wyll did say this spawn saved his life while your party ventured together. For that, I'm willing to see reason if he’s cooperative, rather than restrain him with the Fists.”

You never thought much of it until now. With how many life threatening experiences you and your companions had come across, it felt natural to save one another. At first, it had been out of necessity—fear that one person would turn into an illithid. Yet, with time, you'd all grown fond of each other, one way or another.

You think back to when Astarion had saved Wyll and wonder if that part of him is still in there. Maybe it was never there at all. Maybe it had been another one of his manipulation tactics that you're so prone to falling for.

Gods, you're hopeless.

The wizard standing beside you sighs irritably. “But that was before he tried to squeeze the life out of-”

“How long do we need to keep him?”

Gale balks at your words. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

“Just until we’re able to locate the rest of the spawns spread throughout the city, which you kindly decided not to mention in our last conversation.”

You shoot Gale a glare, silently questioning if he’d been the one to confess the existence of the spawns underground, but he’s too busy scanning over Astarion, who’s mindlessly fidgeting with his knife. The said spawn seems to feel your gaze, because he glances at you, then grins.

The bastard is smiling.

“The man you killed this morning is a spawn himself, yes?” the Duke clarifies. “There have been numerous reports the past few days about strange figures with fangs throughout the city—I’d known they’d existed, but to the numbers that are being reported…”

“You couldn’t have possibly believed myself to be the only spawn around?” Astarion laughs bitterly. “I do not wish to go hungry, Duke, but I don’t need nearly as many bodies that’s been showing up—assuming that I did drink from anyone, of course.”

Ravengard ignores him, speaking as if he’s not there. “I could still have him detained if that is what you wish. We can continue as we have and search for the spawn without his help.”

You know it’s a fruitless effort if last night has told you anything.

“You don’t even have evidence that I drank from a single person in this entire bloody city!” Astarion spits back, rolling his neck in exasperation.

“No,” you purse your lips, finally looking up. “I’ll be responsible for him.”

Gale clears his throat alarmingly. “Now, dear leader, let’s have a private conversation before we make any hasty decisions, yes? Surely, we don’t have to decide right this moment.”

And while you open your mouth to respond that no, you won’t have Astarion rot away in some gross cell, the Duke nods. “Very well.”

Gale pushes you to the corner of the room, with his face clearly paling in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking. You want someone who nearly strangled you to death sleeping in the room next to yours?”

“Ravengard wants us to find out where the other spawn are hiding, and the only lead we have is sitting right there,” you defend yourself. “Throwing Astarion into a dirty cell won’t do anything to convince him to help us.”

“The Duke doesn’t know what he did to you!”

“He doesn’t need to. Astarion’s made it very clear he’s not going to spill any information if the Duke is the one asking, and we need a lead. I nearly died last night, Gale. I want to avoid that if I can.”

His eyes soften just a bit, but it’s enough. With a loud sigh, he scrunches his nose. “And you’re sure you’re not doing this for more personal reasons?”

At this, you pause. Your eyes waver, and the look Gale gives you is almost soul-crushing if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you’ve already hit rock bottom. You know this is not a good idea. You know that being so close to him again after so many months is not a good idea, especially when you’ve just finally begun your journey to forget him.

You curse the gods above for your luck.

The silence prompts Gale to speak. “I’ll tell the Duke we can’t involve ourselves in this.”

“Gale,” your voice almost cracks. “Please.”

He doesn’t want to agree, you can tell. Any sane person wouldn’t invite a bloodthirsty vampire spawn who’s willing to use his own hands to kill his so-called lover into their home. You want to think that you’re void of bias, but you know it’s a pathetic attempt to reassure yourself. Still, the expression on your face must be quite the sight because Gale takes one look, glances at Astarion, then slumps his shoulders. You’ve won.

You hadn’t even realized the door had been swung open, where your other companions had been standing, taking one look at Astarion then to you. While Gale wallows in his own defeat, you turn to the others, eyes glimmering with a kind of hope that they haven’t seen in months.

“Your judgment’s gotten us this far,” Shadowheart sighs. “We’d be fools not to trust it now.”

Lae’zel clicks her tongue. “My blade is ready to slit his throat if need be. Just command me, and I shall.”

“We aren’t going to try to kill him," you retort.

“It’s only right to return the favor."

Dinner is awkward. You’re finally getting to try Gale’s stew, but it’s hard to focus on the taste when all you can feel is the searing stare of the person sitting across from you. He only has a goblet of crimson liquid in the same shade as his eyes in front of him, and it remains untouched as he takes in the rest of the house.

“So,” Gale offers. “What have you been up to?”

It’s not much, but it’s better than sitting in complete silence.

“Wandering the streets at night, mostly. Oh, and murdering half the city, apparently,” Astarion lets out his usual high-pitched laugh at the end, and your fingers tighten around your spoon. Shadowheart glares at him through her lashes, and you think she may lunge at him any second. You want to think you wouldn't stop her.

You feel for her, really. Being the group’s cleric comes with its advantages but also with the unspoken burden of watching your companions in pain. She’d been the one to ensure Astarion hadn’t left long-lasting damage to your throat. She’d been the one to soothe your headaches and cast a sleeping spell on you in hopes it’ll allow you to rest longer than just a few hours. She’d also seen you nearly bleed out multiple times, one of which occurred mere hours ago.

The sudden scrape of Lae’zel’s chair being pushed back catches your attention. She stands, lifting her bowl with her. “The air here is suffocating. Sort out your differences before I sort them out for you.”

The rest of you collectively nod. She doesn’t say anything else before leaving the room.

“The room at the end of the hallway upstairs is yours,” Shadowheart says finally. “Don’t bother me if you need anything else.”

She stands up as well, leaving her bowl in the sink before pacing up the stairs to her own quarters.

Somehow, the atmosphere is even worse now. You don’t dare lift your eyes from your stew, and you honestly hope it explodes before you have to sit here and drink all of it in this silence. Gale, thankfully, does not leave. Instead, he sets down his utensil.

“I suggest we have a set of rules in place–for the sake of everyone occupying this home,” he clears his throat. You shoot him a questioning look, which he dusts off.

“Fine,” Astarion leans back in his chair, now swirling the goblet of blood in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

“No drinking. From anyone here.”

You blink a few times, then hear Astarion hum in acknowledgment. “Shame. Though your blood was vile anyway.”

“And don’t cause any trouble. One of us will go with you when you need to drink, so you can hunt for whatever animal you prefer these days. Otherwise, unless we say so, you’ll remain here.”

“Why, this sounds almost identical to a prison. Looking for a job as a warden, Gale? A midlife crisis, perhaps. Does wizard life not suit you anymore?”

“It suits me plenty, thanks,” Gale snorts. “We’ll be out during the day to rebuild the city, so you’ll have to entertain yourself in your own room. Don’t touch anything—especially my stuff.”

Astarion grins. “That almost sounds like an invitation.”

The wizard then turns to you. “And you? Do you have any other rules you’d like to add?”

You finally lift your head from the stew, looking back and forth between the two before shaking your head while pushing your chair back. For someone who’d imagined aimlessly for months about seeing your former lover again, you can’t seem to look him in the eye for fear of what you might feel. “I’m going out.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

Wordlessly, you pace toward the door, refusing to look back to suppress the urge to sprint back into his arms. You don’t know what you were thinking just a few hours ago, but this was not going to end well. If you couldn’t manage a simple dinner sitting across from him, what could you manage?

You’re in such a rush that you forget to bring anything besides your wallet.

By the time you’re on your way back to the house hours later, you have a backpack shoved full of fabrics with nails and a hammer to go along with it. As you pass by the taverns, you hear music playing from inside, alongside a few cheers and what you can only assume to be a crash of chairs as people applaud. 

You can’t help but peer through the window as you walk past, where a bard merrily plays on his drum, lightening the mood of the entire tavern—even the bartender smiles along as he plays tunes you’ve heard a million times before. And while your hands itch for a lyre—to feel the string snap against your fingertips—you know no good will come of it. You’ll only sit before the instrument, your hands unable to find the emotions to exert in the form of notes. 

As you stare at the bard, you remind yourself you’ve long given up on that kind of life.

So instead, you continue your way to the Highberry’s home. When you knock on the door, a very weary Cora Highberry greets you with bags under her eyes, but a calm smile still stretching on her lips nonetheless. She steps out of the way, inviting you in, and you do so.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” she says as she takes a bag of the city’s finest fruits from your hands. “The neighbors have been oh so gracious to us. They’re helping the children so much, I couldn’t possibly ask for more.”

“I was just passing by, that’s all,” you offer. “I wanted to check on you since I left a bit abruptly last time.”

“Oh, dear, you know how to make a woman feel special. It’s been terrible, really. I haven’t gone so long with my husband in ages…” she laughs, wiping at her swollen eyes. “But we were an old couple anyways…I had some time to prepare my emotions. I just didn’t think he’d go like that.”

You nod as she hands you a mug of hot tea. “But never mind that. I’ve spent the past two weeks talking about nothing but myself, so I’m quite tired. What about you, dear?”

“Me?”

“You look like death themselves,” she frowns. “I’ve lived for quite long…I recognize that heartbroken face anywhere. Has something happened?”

The way she’s staring at you—it’s different than pity. You can’t quite identify it, but she smiles again. It’s not the kind of smile most people give you—not one of anticpation, not one of gratefulness, but just a regular, old smile. And it makes your shoulders untense just the slightest before they tense again. You take a swig of the tea, nearly burning your throat in the process as you set the mug down, splitting a pathetic smile. “No, I’m okay. Just--tired.”

Very, very tired. Not physically, no, but tired of the indecisiveness that is your heart.

Her face falls softly. “How troubling it must be to have the weight of the city on your shoulders."

Before you can answer, there’s a loud thud upstairs. She notices your alarm and shakes her head. “Ah, must be Berry. She’s one of the younger children, and she’s been taking my husband’s death quite hard. Please excuse me, dear. I need to go put her back to sleep.”

And with that, you’re left alone on the first floor of the building again. You contemplate staying to say your farewells but the cries from upstairs convince you otherwise. Taking one last swig from the mug, you gather your things and leave.

When you get back home, it’s well into the night, an hour or two after midnight, you’d think. None of the lights are on, so the first thing you do is light a candle when you step through the door, dropping your backpack onto the dining room table. Dunking all your materials out, you take the hammer and start your work.

There’s something soothing about the darkness outside, with the way nothing seems to exist besides you and your own thoughts in a city that overflows with a sense of community. You try not to think about the man most likely reading in his room just a floor above you and focus on hanging the fabrics in front of all of the windows. The cloths are mismatched in color, and your hammer work is nothing more than sufficient, but it’ll do for now. At least until you can get actual curtains installed.

You worry that some of the fabrics aren’t thick enough to absorb all the sunlight, so you layer another fabric on top of it until you’re sure that even your candlelight cannot be seen from outside. Why you’re going so far for him, you do not know. You prefer to assure yourself that you need him to help stop the spawn from devouring the entire city, but even in your own thoughts, it sounds like a lie.

You wonder if he cares nearly as much as you do. He probably doesn’t.

You hate him, you think for the millionth time today. You want to, at the very least.

You flinch when a splinter in the wooden wall splits your skin open, forming a drop of blood on your index finger. Curse the heavens above, nothing was going right today. You quickly reach for a towel but nearly jump when you hear his voice from the stairs. 

“You really need to stop with that habit of yours.”

You spin around, and he’s already at the foot of the stairs, reaching to grab a towel from the kitchen. But you’re faster, snatching it away and pressing it over your hand while he raises both his own, imitating a surrender of getting any closer. You can’t look at him in the eye—you don’t want to either. “What habit?”

“You’re speaking to me now?” he raises a brow, and you turn away again after shooting him a glare. “I’d thought you’d avoid me forever—scurrying off like a squirrel whenever I step into the room.”

You should avoid him forever. But the words don’t reach your tongue, and you choose to ignore him.

He doesn’t budge. “I meant bleeding around me.”

“What?”

“Every time I see you, you always seem to be bleeding.”

You frown at him. “Maybe you just prefer being around me when I’m bleeding.”

“You might be right." You think maybe he’s done with this painfully awkward conversation until you see him staring at the windows covered with random pieces of fabric, and suddenly, you feel embarrassment creep up your skin. You realize how bizarre your actions must appear in someone else’s eyes, staying up to the break of dawn so that he’ll be able to traverse someplace outside the confines of his own room…

It might make him think you care, and the worst part is that a part of you does.

“I hope you don’t expect me to thank you, darling.”

The nickname feels like a stab to your heart, haunting, even, but you do your best to brush it off.

“For what?” you manage to force out through clenched teeth.

“The cell they would’ve thrown me into is nothing different from trapping me in that room, I’m afraid,” he laughs bitterly, and you want to crawl into a hole from how cold his voice sounds. Distant. Like how he’d sounded the day you found him next to his nautiloid pod. “But I suppose I should be grateful for having a bed instead of having to spend my days rotting away on the dirty floor?”

You bite your bottom lip, brows furrowing. “I don't expect anything from you.”

But you do. Not quite an expectation, but a lingering wish that maybe you can heal. It's pathetic, even in your own eyes and surely everyone else's, but you can't be bothered to care.

It pisses you off a bit. How he seems perfectly unfazed while you continue to drown in your own feelings.

“Are you just here to taunt me, or is there a reason for this conversation?” you snap. This is not quite how you wanted your reunion to go.

He raises a brow. “Taunt you? I'm only answering questions you're afraid to ask.”

“I don't need to know anything about you,” you grit through your teeth. “You left my mind the second you abandoned us.”

What a poor, wishful lie.

“Ha!” It doesn't really sound like a laugh—more a scoff of disbelief. It's like he knows what you're thinking, and for a split second, it feels like there's a tadpole in your head again. “Of course you think I'm the villain of your precious heroic tale! Honestly darling, the irony just writes itself.”

You fight the urge to scowl, but you're not sure if you're successful. You find yourself gripping onto the towel harder, teeth clenched as your chest tightens just hearing his words. You truly hate that he seems to care less than you—it’s like he's not even taking you seriously.

And that damned nickname.

It feels like talking to the Astarion you first met—one who’s only intentions were to use you—but this time, you don't think it’s a mask. He doesn't want anything more from you. Only your own suffering from taking the power that would have made him untouchable.

“So tell me, dear, do you wish for me to grovel at your feet?”

Your eyes widen, and the term of endearment that once made your cheeks flush only makes you feel sick. “What?”

“Do you expect me to drop to my knees, begging for your forgiveness?” he says again, eerily composed while you struggle to come up with words. “Perhaps I would have if we were still staying in that camp. Put on a show, even."

You frown, setting your hammer down on the counter. “I’ve never made you grovel. I’ve never made you do anything.”

“Maybe not directly, no, you’re too kind of a soul to do so,” there’s venom lacing the words that feel nothing short of a lie. Somehow, he’s still smiling. “Instead, you made me beg for your help. You accepted—made it feel like I had a choice. Then tore it away just the same, in the cruelest way possible. Impressive, really. I didn't expect such dramatic sins from you.”

The way he looks at you, words dripping with sarcasm, makes you want to melt into the floor, ceasing to exist as a whole. But alas, you continue standing like a deer in headlights, unsure of how to respond. You look down to see the towel stained with your blood and inhale deeply, watching the dark sky lighten with daybreak through the window. “The sun’s rising.”

His smile drops, something foreign flickering in his eyes. He suddenly steps toward you, and as soon as he gets within two feet, you find yourself stepping backward, your fingers tightening around the hammer. You have no idea if you'd even be able to use it, but it's better than digging your nails into your palms.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?” he asks, his expression indecipherable. “I didn’t realize the great savior of the city could be afraid of a mere vampire spawn.”

You don't want to think he'd truly kill you. Not really, but your mind flashes back to the look in his eyes when he had his hands wrapped around your lifeline, and you grip the hammer tighter, heartbeat pounding impossibly fast.

“You did try to strangle me last time we spoke,” you mutter.

His lip twitches, and he steps back bitterly. You feel like you can breathe again.“Ah, yes, that.”

You swear your stomach drops to your feet at the mere suggestion he’d forgotten what haunts your nightmares every night, forcing you to lurch from your rest in a cold sweat, hands shaking, and having nobody to turn to for comfort. He couldn't be that cruel…could he? You want to scream at him, punch him, kick him, tell him he’s not being fair. You want to defend yourself, say that all you’ve ever wanted was for him to be safe, but even that feels like too much when he’s giving you so little.

“Very well, I’ll indulge you,” he grins again. You realize your time is running out, the sun beginning to peer out from the horizon. “Why did you assume responsibility for me? I can’t imagine why you’d want such a terrible foe in your life living right next door of your own sanctuary.”

For the city, you tell yourself. For Cora's husband and the poor victims drained off their life, all alone in the darkest corners of Baldur's Gate. “...I didn’t do it for you.”

He searches your face for something, his eyes narrowing. He's waiting for you to continue, but there's no more fuel in the tank, and now you just want to sleep for a very long time. You assume he comes up empty when the corners of his lips fall, and he turns to climb up the stairs. Sunlight hits your back as your eyes trail him in his steps, and it does nothing to warm how cold it feels in the room.

“That much I’m aware,” he stops his steps for a brief moment. You barely catch it, but it's there. “Terribly aware.”

And when he finally leaves, you bury your face into your hands.

"I'm nervous."

"What for?"

"What if the ascension goes wrong? Are you sure we should really be doing this, Astarion?"

He brushes your hair out of your face, cupping both your cheeks in his hands. "We'll be okay, my love. I will still be here, and so will you. I'll just finally have enough power to protect what I care about."

He sees the hesitance in your eyes and leans his forehead against yours. You melt into his touch, placing your hands atop his.

"So please, stand beside me for this," he pleads.

And despite the way your intuition screams at you otherwise, despite the way your very being begs you to pull away, you nod, sealing your fate.

"I'll be right here."

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[devildom-moss]

LOVE your works !!!!!! i adore how everytime u write, it just kind of turns into a very subtle character study (at least that's what i'm getting) it's vvv nice and the kind of writing im into <33

it's gmt for me so idk if i'm way past the cut off and this might be an odd request btw but a reader refusing lucifer and belphie's offer of a pact after yk... everything lol. it's up to u if the reader eventually accepts but i want it to hurt 🤌🏻

Thank you so much, that's so sweet. I hope you will see your request since I'm taking so long, and I hope you like it. I hope its got enough angst and hurt. I think they have two different types of hurt in it. Lucifer's has more of his pain and Belphie's has more of the reader's pain.

Rejecting their pact offers

(Lucifer x gn!MC) (Belphegor x gn!MC)

(Slightly suggestive for Belphegor) (angst) (hurt; pain; implied physical and emotion harm to reader; slight yandere!Belphegor; Belphie is really creepy in this with some non-consent elements regarding touching/kissing)

Word Count: +2,000

Lucifer

You dreaded spending time alone with Lucifer, so you were displeased to receive a message from him – and even more unhappy that it had arrived, coincidentally, just as you had finished your assignment, when you were looking forward to being able to unwind. Your hopeful plans were crushed by an arrogant invite:

Lucifer: Meet me in my study once you’re free. Alone. Don’t keep me waiting.

Your first instinct was to pretend that you were busy all night and didn’t have time for whatever he wanted, but you knew you wouldn’t enjoy your night if you were constantly on guard and worried about your leisure being interrupted. You could pretend you didn’t read it – after all, you turned your read receipts off specifically because of Lucifer. You could wash up and head straight to bed, sacrificing your free time for the sake of avoiding Lucifer. But avoiding him would only result in his nagging the following morning, and he had already ruined your night, so you might as well safeguard your morning peace by appeasing him. Hopefully whatever he wanted would be quick and painless. With a sigh, you reluctantly dragged yourself in the direction of his study.

You knocked at the door despite it being open ajar.

“MC, please enter,” Lucifer spoke up. He knew it was you; his brothers never knocked. You heard the shuffling of paper and the creaking of his desk chair as you opened the door fully. “You’re slightly earlier than I expected. I’m glad to know that your studies are not giving you any trouble – or at least, I suspect that’s why you’re here so soon.”

“Yeah,” you answered him shortly. He seemed flustered by your presence – which would be entertaining outside of the current situation. You stood in the doorway, watching Lucifer collect his papers and tidy his workspace before walking over. His looming figure inched closer, but you stood your ground. “Did you need something from me, Lucifer?”

“Right. Please take a seat. Can I pour you a glass of Demonus? I’ve acquired a new bottle from Diavolo, and I’ve been looking forward to trying it. I’d like to open it with you.” Lucifer walked over to his bar; pulled a bottle from the very back of the top shelf, hidden behind a taxidermy raven; and grabbed two clean glasses.

“No thank you. I’m fine.”

“Oh.” The sound left him so quietly, you weren’t certain he had intended for you to hear it. He put one of the glasses back, hoping you wouldn’t notice, and poured himself a drink. “Suit yourself.”

“Was that all?” Your eyes wandered the room. You hadn’t been in here for a while, and the last time was not particularly ideal.

“Of course not!” Lucifer looked away indignantly. “I wouldn’t call you to my study just for a drink. I have something important to discuss.”

“Alright.”

Lucifer took a sip of his drink before speaking again; his subtle delays – the slow draining of your time and patience – annoyed you. “You’ve impressed me over the last few months, and you’ve managed to make pacts with each of my brothers. I believe you’ve proven yourself worthy of a pact with me. That is, so long as we make one thing clear: if we form a pact, I own you. I don’t care who else you’re entangled with, you’ll be mine.”

“No. I’m good.” You shook your head to accentuate your response.

“What?” Every muscle in Lucifer’s body tightened, and the glass in his hand formed a superficial crack. His eyes widened. Shock and anger fed off each other as Lucifer sat there speechless.

“I don’t trust you,” you admitted. Somehow, you were thrilled to finally have the opportunity to tell Lucifer how you truly felt.

“After everything we’ve been through together?” Lucifer scoffed. He thought he had proven himself to you. He’d come so far since the last time he had tried to hurt you. He thought you were both past this – that you meant more to each other by now.

“No, Lucifer, after everything you did to me.” You sat up from the chair, rage rising with you. You had done nothing but try to help him and his family, and he had done nothing but hurt you. Even when he had saved you, it was usually for his own selfish reasons. By the time he had developed this strange infatuation with you, you had no trust left to give him. You had no foreseeable interest in furthering a relationship with him – especially not after the pompous way he asked you.

“MC, please, be reasonable. You know very well why I reacted the way I did at the time. You’re a part of my family now,” Lucifer pleaded with you desperately, trying to show you his version of reason. He grabbed your wrist and clung to you tightly, afraid to let you leave. “I won’t hurt you like that again. I promise. I adore you much too much.”

“Lucifer,” you half-sighed, half-winced, “let go. You’re hurting me right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer apologized. He quickly let go of you and brought his hand back to his chest, wide-eyed and terrified. “Please. . . I’ve never offered this to a human before.”

You could hear the heartbreak in his voice, it trembled on his vocal cords and shook his breath. It was his last resort to persuade you: to show you that he had never been this vulnerable, and he didn’t know how to handle your rejection. You knew he needed you to accept his offer – or at least consider it. Anything except rejection would be survivable.

“Please?” Lucifer begged softly; his cheeks flushed with shame.

“Just because I’m your first and you might have changed, it doesn’t mean I have to accept your offer.”

Belphegor

You could have sworn that you had locked your door before heading to bed last night – and no one could blame you for still feeling a bit cautious after the events that occurred a few weeks ago. Yet, you were disturbed by the creaking of your bedroom door – if it hadn’t been unlocked before, it certainly was now. The soft shuffle of exhausted demon feet creeped towards your bed. You gulped and inched closer to the wall, hoping your eyes would adjust, and you would see Mammon. Maybe he had a nightmare. Or maybe it was Asmo, and he was lonely. Maybe Beel got lost on his way back from the kitchen – and hopefully not on his way towards the kitchen.

“Sleepy,” a soft voice muttered, and your hope plummeted. Fear spiked, prickling up your spine as you felt Belphegor crawl into bed next to you. His hands pat the bed gently, searching for your body, feeling for your warmth. He whined, “MC, hold me.”

“Sleep in your own bed, please.” You tried to sound firm, but your voice trembled at the last word. Maybe it was fear, but maybe your own lips could hardly stomach the thought of begging a demon like Belphegor to let you sleep in peace. After everything he did, why did he think he had the right to break into your room in the middle of the night and crawl into your bed?

“Too far now, and I want to sleep with you.”

Against your will, Belphie wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, resting his head on your shoulder. He nuzzled into you, taking in your scent with a deep, calm inhale. A gentle hum left him.

It was infuriating, the way he relaxed against you while your body tensed with an overflow of negative emotions: anger, annoyance, anxiety. It wasn’t fair that he could drift peacefully to sleep, clinging to you, after everything he did. You wished he would stop – that he would let you go and return to his room, shutting the door on his way out. You’d make sure it was locked this time; you’d double check it and put a curse on it if you had to.

“I was thinking,” Belphegor hummed mindlessly without even opening his eyes. He practically sounded happy. “We should make a pact.”

Your blood boiled, and you stared at his restful form in the dark. “No, Belphegor. I don’t want a pact with you.”

“Why not?” he started, eyes shooting open to stare at you in disbelief for a brief moment before he remembered. He lowered his eyes and attempted to bury his face against your arm. “Don’t answer that.”

“You know why.” There was spite in your words – so bitter that Belphegor couldn’t ignore it even if he wanted to.

Suddenly he felt he had to do something, and before you could understand what was happening, Belphie had tackled you, pinning your hands down at your sides and straddling your lap. The dim glow of his amethyst eyes soaked up all the light in the room when he stared down at you. His grip on your hands wasn’t tight, but a familiar fear clawed at your throat, cutting back your desire to protest.

“Hush. Relax. I’m not a threat anymore. I love you. I want you. For fuck’s sake, if I was going to hurt you again, I would have done it already, so please, please don’t be scared. I need you. Come on, accept a pact with me, please?” The light from his eyes disappeared from your sight as he dipped down. You felt him kiss up your neck lazily, his warm breath tickling your skin. From anyone else, this might have felt loving and affectionate, but from Belphegor, it seemed cruel – as if he was kissing where his hands might have bruised like some panacea that came too late. “Please? Don’t make me keep begging.”

“Get off!” Your voice came back to you in a frightened yelp, still hushed in the dark of night. You struggled and writhed beneath him. The panic was setting in.

“You’re scared?” Belphie questioned, almost surprised by his effect on you. He pulled back to meet your eyes, but you had them shut tight. “Hey, look at me. I told you I loved you. Don’t be scared.”

“Let me go, Belphegor.” You lifted your arms slightly, only for him to force them back down.

“Form a pact with me,” he insisted. He kissed just above your collarbone, allowing his lips to linger on your skin. “If we had a pact, you could control me. I can feel your pulse pounding; I know you’re scared, but if we make a pact, you’ll never have to be afraid of me again.”

“I’ll scream, Belphegor. I swear,” you warned.

“Shh,” Belphegor let go of one of your hands to cover your mouth. He held your gaze with a delusional sweetness. You felt tears prick the corners of your eyes, praying for someone to barge into your room and end this. Belphegor cooed, “I promise I won’t ever hurt you again. I know that will take time to prove, but I need you now. I need that connection to you. I crave it, and I can’t let my brothers be the only ones to stake their claim on you. And until you want me and trust me, a pact will give you reassurance. You’ll never have to worry about being alone with me. If I act out, I’ll be under your spell – in more ways than one. I just want to keep you safe. Can’t you understand that? Make me yours.”

You knew he had a point about control, but it didn’t make you want him. Still, when he removed his hand from your mouth, the fear and anxiety that remained spoke for you. “. . . Fine.”

“Yay.” Belphie giggled and kissed you sleepily, caressing along your cheek and neck. He hummed and stared down at you, trapped beneath him. With your eyes finally more accustomed to the darkness, you noticed a faint blush on his cheeks as he bit his lower lip. “You know, I’m not so tired anymore. Let’s stay up all night and make the pact more official. I’ll even let you mark me.”

[silverdragonfly]

Beyond the Gods' Eyes

Chapter 3 - The Tale of Maggots and Crickets (Masterlist)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Seer Reader

Summary: To see into Aemond’s future, you must perform a floral ritual. But what happens if death decides to interfere?

Warnings: !MDNI! Mature content, including themes of death, and implied nudity. English isn't my first language.

Word Count: 8.2 K

A/N: this chapter is quite a bit longer but provides some hints on what's coming:) hope you enjoy it! likes, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! 💙 p.s. if you have any guesses about where it’s going, i’d love to hear them! 🥀

divider credit @cafekitsune

“Y/N, come here, my child. I must tell you something.” Your mother’s distant voice pulled you from your dream. By this time, such nocturnal adventures had become so common that you no longer needed a candle to find her bed. Despite the pitch-black night, you could see how pale her face was.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” Sitting at the bedside, you reached for her forehead to check if the fever had returned, but it was cool.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, causing her to take frequent breaks while speaking. “The vision… torments me.”

Brushing her cheek in an attempt to soothe her, you softly reminded her, “You need your strength to recover.”

For a year, you had been relying solely on your powers. It was out of the question for your mother to use hers since the illness had claimed her.

She fell silent, her mouth slightly open to ease her breathing. Her hand reached out to clasp yours with a delicate, almost childlike grip. A bitter ache tightened in your throat at the gesture. No matter how fervently you prayed, her strength would not return.

“No one can deceive it for long,” her voice lowered to a faint whisper. Since that day, you had never spoken of her impending death, as if pretending it wasn’t there would prevent it from clasping its sharp claws around your mother’s life. But the truth always lingered unspoken between you. Please, stay. I need you. The words trembled on your lips, but speaking them aloud would only deepen the sorrow.

“I must tell you what I have seen. When I am no longer here, you shall know what to do.”

As you held her frail hand, your eyes brimmed with tears. 

“Do not burden yourself with these revelations,” your voice faltered. “Whatever you have witnessed, I shall know it in time too.” You wished for her to release her stubbornness at least once. Yet your mother would choose to be obstinate even in the face of death.

“A desperate man… a kinslayer will seek your aid. He will strive to escape death. Do what you must, but…” Her body shook with a cough, each convulsion stealing the words from her. “Just don’t…”

“Mother, please!” Tears streamed down your face, each drop a silent plea for her to stop, to fight for a chance to live rather than exhaust herself even more.

Her voice weakened to the extent you had to lean closer to hear her. The words were a faint puff against your ear, and yet you couldn't decipher them, for one thought drowned out everything else: "Live, please, live!" Yet she spoke on, until tears fully blurred your vision, making the world disappear, and with it, your mother was gone.

Gasping for breath, you jolted awake in your bed. The house was wrapped in a heavy grey gloom, but you could already distinguish the shapes of objects. A dim light was creeping through a thin crack in the curtain. Birds chirping came from the window, promising that the time of nightmares was already over. Dawn. Looking at your hands, you could still feel the light touch of your mother’s hand. Your body was still trembling, as if you had indeed been crying. The overwhelming sensation of the harrowing memory gradually faded away, yet its echoes were doomed to be deeply embedded in your thoughts.

When you left the cosy corner of your bedroom, you sighed with relief since Aemond was no longer in bed. Drawing aside the curtain, you saw him strolling in the garden. With his upright noble posture, he appeared in harmony with the flowers, as if he were one of them.

You wondered if he behaved differently with his family—was he more open or gentler? However, the confession from the previous day quickly dampened that thought. Perhaps with the woman from your vision? You shook your head, dismissing the thought. It was unwise to dwell on it now. Or ever.

You were quick to join him outside, as it was the right time to do what needed to be done. 

“It’s no jest,” you said, sensing his presence close behind you as you rummaged through the cluttered garden shed for a trowel. You sighed as you surveyed the disarray around you. How had this place fallen into such chaos again?

“To pick a flower from the hill?” His voice carried a note of disbelief.

“That’s precisely what I said.” Turning to him, you clicked your tongue as he continued to look at you as if you had commanded him to behead a man and present the head to you.

After a few more moments of searching, you finally retrieved a trowel with a satisfied hum. Walking briskly past Aemond, you headed towards the secluded garden spot for the ritual. The crisp morning air felt soothing compared to the day’s earlier scorcher. The flowers began to reveal their exquisite colours in the first rays of the sun.

The only problem was the figure trailing behind you. Like a cat, he followed in your footsteps all morning, just as gracefully. You had anticipated dissatisfaction with the ritual’s details at some point, but not right from the start. Pivoting abruptly on your heels, you nearly caused Aemond to crash into you.

“I thought we had an understanding,” you said, your brow furrowing as displeasure coloured your voice.

“I fetch a flower, and then what?” He leaned down slightly to meet your gaze.  “How is it supposed to work?” This man was awfully tall—and curious.

“Could you explain to a commoner how one might claim a dragon or what it is to soar through the heavens?”

The way his lips twitched told you he understood the point. Not giving him a chance to question further, you added, “Now, please, go pick a flower from the hill. I’ll be waiting in the garden.” 

The flicker of surprise in his eye didn’t go unnoticed by you. Turning around, you headed further with a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. He was clearly not used to obeying, and yet you felt victorious simply because you caught Aemond Targaryen pouting. 

Digging a medium hole not far away from your mother’s favourite peonies, you settled casually on the grass, your knees sinking slightly into the soft earth, its touch was a soothing balm to your soul. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. The sky above you grew clearer with each passing second, and so did your mind. No visions. No dreams. No memories. Even the nagging thoughts that had tried to intrude on your calm remained at bay. The fewer emotions and thoughts involved, the smoother the ritual would go. Breathe. In and out.

“This one will do?”

At the sound of Aemond’s voice, you opened your eyes. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him holding a tender flower—a bluebell, the absolute opposite of his dark figure. For most people, a bluebell resembled gratitude and love, yet it would be the last flower you would choose for such a ritual. “Bluebells connect us with the afterlife,” your mother warned, “but they also foretell misfortune. If you hear it ring, someone you care deeply about will die.” You swallowed hard. It would be unwise to reveal this to him; the flower choice was personal. A bluebell had called to Aemond; you could not interfere.

With a composed nod, you rose to your feet. He seemed unaware of any change in your demeanour. 

“We’ll proceed here.” You gestured to the hole you had dug.

“Stand in front of me,” you instructed.

His face remained calm as you stood facing each other, just a few inches apart. You couldn’t get used to his steady, unblinking gaze. You knew it was a mask—the one he chose to wear alongside the sword and dagger, a calculated choice. The mask you wished to tear off. Your fists clenched involuntarily.

“I’ll need you to hold the bluebell in both hands…” The delicate flower seemed even smaller in his palms. “…As if you’re shielding it from the wind. Just like that. During the ritual, I may utter incoherent words; do not heed them. You must keep your mind clear.”

“Are you going to curse me?” he purred, tilting his head slightly. 

“No, but should you question me too persistently, I might be tempted to try.” You shot him a deadly serious look, but it wasn’t convincing, as a faint smile played at the corners of his lips. “I’ll also need to hold your hands throughout the ritual.” You searched his face for any sign of protest, but he simply hummed in agreement.

Wrapping your palms around his hands, you felt their warmth; his fingers were calloused, though not unpleasantly so. A flutter of nerves danced in your stomach. You had performed this ritual before, but the closeness to Aemond made it feel different.

Lifting your gaze back to him, you added, “I will close my eyes and begin. You may do the same.” He nodded at you unusually calmly, and you wondered if he was simply curious. With that thought, you closed your eyes, and the darkness welcomed you.

Breathe in, breathe out. In and out. Mind clear, all set. You heard the bluebell's faint whisper. No ringing, though. Good. You knew it would take a few minutes for the sound to become clearer. You needed to listen to the flower first before it would listen to you. As you concentrated on its voice, something else intruded on your focus. Your body tensed with a sense of caution, as you tried to decipher the sound. Some sort of…. rustling? Was it coming from the bluebell? You knitted your brows, listening more closely as you began to recognise it—the very same sound you heard every time you went to bed and woke up: the sound of crisp sheets shifting. It couldn’t be right, you thought.

While you were attempting to make sense of it, like a net catching a butterfly, the vision took hold of your mind, transporting you to a dimly lit room. Shadows cast by flickering candles danced on the walls and transparent curtains, lulling you to sleep and luring you into dropping your guard. You’d been here before—the brothel. Yet this time, it wasn’t an older woman who was the focus of your gaze, but Aemond. His silk hair tumbled down his naked back, with a few delicate strands framing the curve of his serene face, begging for a gentle touch. Along with his clothes, the menacing part of him had vanished. He was so... vulnerable, and yet the strongest man, no, warrior, you’d ever seen. Seated on the bed, his forearm muscles flexed as he reached for the cup of milk. Each swallow made his Adam’s apple move rhythmically, hypnotising you with its motion. His chest revealed the well-defined contours of his abdominal muscles. Putting the drink aside, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His gaze was directed at you, but there was no way he could see you—a ghost that didn’t belong here. Yet under his piercing violet eye and the dark blue sapphire glittering in place of the lost one, you forgot to breathe. You couldn’t tear your gaze away; you were looking at an angel carved by the gods. Rising to his feet, the thin sheet slid off him like a marble statue, revealing his powerful legs, and... Oh gods.

Gasping, you opened your eyes. You were struck by the cruel irony of the vision lurching into your mind while Aemond still stood before you, his gaze utterly perplexed.

“What happened?” A slight crease appeared between his brows. For fuck’s sake. You immediately averted your eyes, feeling a flush of heat creeping up your neck. A wild urge to run surged in your mind. Your hands grew wetter as they still held his. To let go would mean starting the ritual from the very beginning tomorrow.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” you managed to mumble, your mouth suddenly dry. His gaze burned against your skin as if he could somehow see through you. Say something. Please, say something. As you shifted your eyes to look at the man you’d just seen naked moments ago without his knowledge, no plausible excuse came to mind.

His gaze suddenly softened. “Are you unwell? Your cheeks are burning.”

“Yes! I mean, no!” You bit the inside of your cheek. Gods be merciful.

Your mind was absolutely clear, so why now? What could have caused—

“Have you been thinking about something?” you asked, suspicion rising in your tone.

His gaze briefly lowered before meeting your eyes again. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?” Your voice was on the verge of shouting, eyes wide in shock. “Didn’t I just say how important it is to keep your mind clear?” You barely contained your emotions. Any thought racing through his mind could spark unexpected visions in you, especially during the ritual when you were more perceptive.

He just brushed you off, his tone calm to the point of irritation. “It was nothing but a fleeting, innocent thought.” The emphasis on “innocent” sent a shiver down your spine. “I wonder what thoughts occupied your mind.” His self-satisfied smirk didn’t help.

“There were none,” you shrugged, striving for nonchalance. However, the remnants of the vision and your blatant staring still lingered within you. You felt bitter about the fact that you could have stopped it at any point but didn’t.

“Mm, very well then.” His eye remained narrowed, boring into you, searching for more evidence not to trust your word.

A breath caught in your throat. Foolish. What a foolish reason to interrupt the ritual and lose precious time. You had to tame your emotions and put up a strong mental shield for now. 

“Let us resume,” your tone laced with determination. “Clear your mind completely, banishing even the most trivial thoughts.” You didn’t dare to add “innocent.”

“I shall attempt my best,” he said, not blinking an eye.

Your eyes fell closed again. Breathe in and out. In and out. The bluebell began to glow instantly, warmth transferring through Aemond’s hands. Breathe in and out. In and out. The whisper returned, faint and delicate at first. Gradually, it grew stronger until you could fully grasp it. Now you heard the voice, distant yet clear. Your lips began to mumble, repeating the incoherent syllables. Suddenly, your heart ached. Your mother would have performed this ritual silently and flawlessly... "Shh. Keep your mind clear. Keep your mind clear." Mentally repeating the phrase as a mantra, the distress eased.

Still engulfed in darkness, the bluebell appeared in your mind and then, as if by pure magic, transformed into its initial form—a small seed. It was your turn to speak. Your soothing tone became water, your words—sunlight and soil. The seed began to swell, spreading its tender roots downward. A small stem was formed, and it grew taller and sturdier with each word of yours. Around it, leaves formed, and soon there was a tiny bud. It took some patience for it to unfurl soft blue petals, deepening to a dark lavender blue as it caught the sunlight. The seed transformed into a fully bloomed bluebell, and with that, you fell silent.

As you opened your eyes, they stung from the harsh sunlight streaming in. Gradually, as your vision adjusted to the daylight, Aemond's face came into focus— the usual coldness in his gaze gone, and you wondered if it was an optical illusion. With a deep breath, you said, “It is set.” 

His voice was hoarse as he asked, “What comes next?”

“Now we plant the flower.” With that, you let go of his hands. When he opened his palms, your lips parted. The bluebell was as fresh and bright as if it had just been picked from the field. The colour of Aemond’s sapphire. You bit the inside of your cheek. One more secret had been stolen away from him. 

Aemond’s curiosity transformed into a silent contemplation as you dealt with the flower. You lowered the bluebell into the hole, adding a splash of water to help it settle. With a trowel, you began covering the flower with soil, its bright blue petals vanishing beneath the earth as if they had never been there. Pausing to smooth the soil’s surface, you ensured it was level and even. In nature, everything must be in its place. You had no choice but to comply with its rules.

Rising to your feet, you briskly shook off the remnants of earth from your hands. The ritual was performed exactly as it had been that day.

Aemond’s gaze lingered on the freshly turned soil, his arms crossed as he spoke, “From what I can presume, ’tis not how one typically plants a flower.”

“It’s no usual flower,” you said, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. The sun had already begun to beat down relentlessly.  “It is now tightly intertwined with your destiny. Once it blooms, it will reveal to me where death awaits you.” You ought to be very careful with what you’d tell him from now on.

Picking up the tool, you started walking toward the garden shed, the exhaustion creeping over you. Aemond fell into a step beside you, the path too narrow for both to walk side by side.

“In what manner will it reveal this?” he asked.

“In a manner difficult to explain. Each flower has its distinct voice, though most people are deaf to it,” you said, entering the garden shed. The coolness of the place felt soothing against your skin. 

“But not you.” His scathing tone made you wary.

“Not I.” You nodded, dropping the trowel on the wooden table. With your back turned you sensed an eerie change in his demeanor. Something else was hidden behind his words, something you couldn’t grasp. As if, while you had been busy with the flower, his silence had given him a chance to uncover a dangerous thread he was now eager to pull on.

When you braced yourself to face him, Aemond stared at a blank spot. His gaze, gleaming in the darkness, reminded you of a predator. A sudden urge to go outside rushed through you.

Heading toward the door, you paused with a frown as his tall figure blocked the entrance with a decisive movement.  

“How can I be sure you won’t deceive me?” His voice crawled under your skin.

Taking a step back, you did your best to maintain your composure despite the wild racing of your heart.  “Well, you cannot. Just as I cannot be certain you spoke truthfully when you promised my life would be peaceful again.” With that, you intended to walk past him, but he halted you with a hand around your elbow. 

“Yet by lying to me, you might secure your peace—at my expense.” He hissed the words. “That will not suffice.”

You studied his broad hand closed around yours before lifting your gaze to meet his. The memory of your mother burned brightly in your mind, her words echoing in your head. 

“I have no proof to offer beyond my word.” 

His violet eye assessed you unblinkingly, as if for an eternity. The intensity made you feel as if you could confess to any crime, simply because he demanded it.

“If you dare to trick me,” his voice lowered, “remember I am not the only one who can turn you and your garden to ashes.”

You retorted, “As long as you don’t threaten me, I am willing to help and  keep my promise.”

His gaze flickered, and you feared you had crossed the line. When his grip loosened, you rushed into the daylight without a second thought. You hoped he couldn’t see the tears welling in your eyes. You had let down your guard, believing there was a mutual understanding and agreement. But here it was again—a ruthless reminder that you always had to stay on your toes, that you were prey in this situation. Yet you couldn’t quite understand what had triggered such a change.

You picked a green apple from the grass and sat on the wooden bench, shifting your legs under the table. Rotating the fruit in your hands, you noticed a slight bruise on its skin; perhaps it had fallen from the highest branch —price for being closer to the gods. 

The exhaustion that had washed over you was replaced by caution. One moment it seemed you knew exactly what to do, but your plan was akin to a cotton fabric. A spark of his fire set it ablaze, destroying it mercilessly.

You didn’t notice how much time you’d spent brooding, but when Aemond joined you, it felt as if the raging storm within him had subsided; his shoulders slumped. Was it guilt? Clasping his hands, he rested them on the table, his gaze distant. There could be no mistake. Something was clearly torturing him.

You wanted to be obstinate, for him to acknowledge his fault, for him to say he was sorry. But a part of you, one that had witnessed him in the visions, suspected the bitter truth: He didn’t know how. The mask was both a choice and a shelter. 

Letting out a heavy sigh, you said, “My powers may not work as you expect, but they are real.” You thoroughly wiped the fruit with your apron. “The flower needs at least a week to grow, and when it blooms, I will answer your questions—as you wish.” You offered him an apple—a gesture of reconciliation—but he only shook his head, averting his gaze to the hills in the distance. 

A soft crunch pierced the silence as you took a bite of the fruit, savouring its juicy taste. This apple tree was your favourite sort—producing hard and sour apples. Your mother could never grasp your odd preference.

The shadows pooled under his remaining eye were stark. The question had been burning on your lips for a while, and you finally dared to ask, “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

He shrugged. “I dreamt.”

You knew what he meant. You had been dreaming for months since your mother’s demise. Your voice softened, “It is not the same. Is anything wrong?”

“Besides the obvious?” A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth.

Could it be that history repeats itself?

“You hear them,” you said quietly, your hands lowering to the table. “The voices.”

Silence fell between you, punctuated by a faint breeze ruffling the leafy trees. You looked at his face, searching for a subtle change, for proof you were right.

“Will they ever go away?” His voice was devoid of emotion, almost as if he had come to terms with the fatality. Just as your mother once did. The apple suddenly felt too bitter on your tongue.

“They will fade away sooner or later,” you said carefully,  “but the echoes are likely to remain.” 

“What are they?” When his eye met yours, mirroring your own exhaustion. 

“Have I not told you?” The fruit tightened in your hand. “You are marked by death. The voice you hear is its own.”

His jaw clenched, but the tension faded as he turned to face the garden as if nature was easing his burden. 

“Are all the flowers here part of some ritual?” he asked.

A trace of a smile glimmered across your lips. “No, I planted most of them for the sheer joy of it.”

He hummed quietly. “Only a few are special then.”

“To me, every single one is precious,” you said solemnly and took another bite of the apple. Its fresh juices satisfied your thirst, making you sigh in contentment. Suddenly, a weird sensation ran through you, freezing you in place. The apple remnants were still in your mouth as you tried to make sense of the strange swirling on your tongue, a soft shifting not provoked by your body. The realisation made you jump to your feet, spitting out the fruit with a desperate cough, ensuring no remnants were left inside. The apple slipped from your grasp, hitting the grass with a dull thud.

Aemond closed the distance between you in a few swift steps. His hand hovered a few inches away from yours, as if there were an invisible wall between you.

“What’s that?” His gaze darted between your trembling figure and the fallen apple. When he noticed, his face hardened, and he stepped back slightly.

Your hand flew to your mouth, nausea churning in your stomach at the sight of countless tiny white, pale bodies wriggling in the fruit's rotting flesh. Maggots. 

The message. Death didn’t like to be tricked.

By the end of the day, maggots and flies had infested nearly every foodstuff, and their eggs were found even in the herbs and spices. The nauseating stench they brought quickly pervaded the house, attracting even more vile creatures. You had to discard all crops, potatoes, and vegetables in the dump located in the chasm of the forest near the hill. The path there had never seemed so long to you as it did that day. Aemond helped without so much as wrinkling his nose. His demeanour remained composed, but the absence of his sharp remarks made you suspect that beneath his stoic façade, he was taken aback.

A loaf of bread was the only edible provision spared—until you discovered mould creeping from its edge. The only option left was to eat fruits and berries right off the trees or bushes, as those weren’t infected—for now. Today, though, the very thought of dinner was repulsive. Fear gnawed at you. If this plague spread to the garden, it would cause dire consequences.

“What shall we do?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the dagger he was swirling in his hands—the very same one that had caught your eye the other day. You sat under the apple tree, a small tub of water before you. The first stars had already appeared in the sky, but no one dared to enter the house. The windows and door were wide open, inviting fresh air to combat the pervasive stench.

“I must purchase a few Eritaiol candles,” you said, washing your hands thoroughly. “They could help.” 

You’d learnt about these candles the hard way: when you’d been bedridden with a fever, your body had burned for days, causing your lips to crack and bleed like raw flesh. Nothing had helped until your mother lit a few Eritaiol candles. According to her, they were known to banish evil spirits and diseases. You weren’t sure death belonged to either category, but perhaps it would loosen its grip on you.

“It doesn’t sound particularly promising,” Aemond concluded.

“It is the first thing to try,” you replied with a sigh, examining your hands. It felt as if the odour was clinging to your skin.

“What would be the second?”

You remained silent, adding more lavender and rosehip to the water before dipping your hands in it again.

His gaze bored into you. “If I leave, will things return to their natural order?” It sounded more like a statement than a question.

“We both know it won’t happen.”

“The prospect of starving to death doesn’t persuade you to rid yourself of me?” A strange amusement played in his tone.

“You’re not so easy to get rid of.”

“What of your powers? Can they not reveal something to you?”

“My realm is that of living and nature, not death and decay. I can see the future as it is written, but as we stand against death, it alters the course of events to its own design.”

“Isn’t it futile then?” His fingers tapped absently against the blade. “You’ll tell me of my death, and it will still find its way to me.” 

You pressed your lips together. “That’s why I asked what you intend to do. Death can be escaped once, maybe twice. But no one can deceive it for long.” The bile crept up your throat as you realized these were your mother’s words. Swallowing hard, you continued, “I can help avert the most imminent scenario, but there will surely be others on the way. I don’t know how much time I can buy you. You’d better have a good plan for what you’ll do with the precious moments you gain.”

He went quiet, considering your words. You stole glances at him, but what he was thinking of was beyond your understanding. The sound of the sheathing dagger made you shriek. With a swift motion, Aemond stood up and came closer to the wooden fence. His hand fell upon a burgundy rose, holding it as if a glass of wine. Leaning further, he inhaled its sweetness.

“Where do we find the candles?” his voice came out velvety, like a lullaby. 

“Market. Eight miles away from here. I shall go at first light.” You withdrew your hands from the lukewarm water and dried them with a rag. Bringing them closer, you inhaled deeply, savouring the long-awaited freshness.

“I’ll go with you.” Letting hold of the rose, he faced you. 

“There is no need.” There would be no chance you’d stay inconspicuous together with him by your side. 

“Aren’t your flowers the next to be threatened?” He nodded toward the garden.

His words stirred a pang of anxiety within you, your fingers tightening around the rag. As if sensing the change, he added, his gaze unyielding, “Perhaps if we both leave for a time, it may relent.”

The eerie sensation washed over you. You knew he was being rational. Again, you found yourself speaking of death with a naïve hope that it would be deaf to your conversation.

“Very well,” you said, gazing over the garden. “Tomorrow, we shall go together.”

The Eastcross market was bustling with sellers and buyers, many coming from remote areas for the fair. Stalls lined up on both sides left a clear space between them, but the crowd had grown so large that it became a struggle to get around quickly. Aemond and you constantly had to stop to wait for a customer to move off the path or for someone to move a basket out of the way.

Food was abundant here. All kinds of vegetables and fruits, including exotic varieties you had never seen before, filled your sight. Crops, potatoes, fish, and meat made your stomach rumble. 

When the mouth-watering aroma of fresh baking wafted towards you, you couldn’t help but stop by. After purchasing a few pastries, you and Aemond found a quiet corner to eat, blending into the crowd as people passed by. Neither of you complained as you hadn’t eaten anything yet. The soft dough tasted so delicious that you barely restrained yourself from gobbling it down.

Your gaze kept turning to the vibrant silks across the road—fancy fabrics that were perhaps too expensive for you to purchase. When the wind picked up, the silks fluttered beneath the deep blue sky, mesmerizing you with their delicate motion.

After finishing your meal, you brushed the crumbs off your pale blue dress. The golden lines at the waist mimicked the skeleton of a corset. Aemond was wearing a dark hood over his head, hiding his silver hair. The eye patch was in place too, but since people were busy with the market, to your relief, they paid little attention to you.

You still couldn’t bring yourself to talk to Aemond after the incident earlier this morning. Walking into the house, you barely contained a gasp upon seeing him braiding his hair at the back of his head. His long fingers worked skillfully, intertwining the strands with ease. You’d been holding your breath for reasons you’d forbidden yourself to think of, completely forgetting why you had returned in the first place. When his icy gaze had met yours in the mirror, it had urged you to rush outside, mumbling curses under your breath.

As you set out again, your gaze searched for the dark grey brick shop. With the vast crowd around, you worried about passing it by and risking losing more time. 

“I can’t imagine you’d have to journey so far for simple supplies,” Aemond said, moving closer until his arm brushed against yours. A plump woman, her body tightly cinched by a corset that seemed ready to burst, filled the remaining space with a huge basket of vegetables in one hand and a chicken tucked under her other arm.

You exhaled a soft snort. “Nobles aren’t meant to walk such distances.”

“I’ve gone beyond.” There was a hint of pride in his attitude, causing you to furrow your brows.

“On a dragon,” you said, lowering your voice. You’d be unlikely to be heard by anyone through the wild cacophony of bleating, clucking, coins clinking and chatting coming from every corner, but the caution wouldn’t hurt.

Leaning closer, he murmured with a teasing edge, “We could’ve come here on Vhagar if you weren’t so wary. A dragon ride would have been less exhausting.”

Earlier this morning, when he had suggested it, you had choked on water. His eye had shone with a mischievous glitter, and a smirk had played on his lips. You were quick to realize he had been jesting and drawing great satisfaction from your reaction.

 “Where is it?” you asked nonchalantly. It barely interested you, but you couldn’t deny it would be a relief to know the creature was far away.

“She,” he corrected with a touch of protectiveness. You’d already learnt Vhagar was his utmost treasure. 

“Where is she?”

“I can’t tell you.”

You snorted, casting a look at him. “I knew it was a jest.”

“You wouldn’t have agreed anyway.”

He had a point. Mounting a dragon for a ride with Aemond was certainly the last thing you’d consider.

“How is she without you?” you asked, pausing in front of a flock of sheep. The pungent smell of wool and musk filled the air. Two dark-skinned men were herding them across the street. “I mean—what does she eat? Doesn’t she miss you?”

Aemond shrugged. “She’s likely in deep hibernation. Dragons can endure such a state for years if the rider is away or dead.”

“So she’s-” Your voice was interrupted by the men shouting something in a language you couldn't understand, but apparently sheep knew quite well since they started moving in the direction, away from you.  You struggled to find the right word, but eventually gazing up at Aemond, came up with, “ …not in danger?”

His eye, full of amazement, met yours. “She is the danger.”

Your cheeks flushed. Right, it was silly to ask. Looking at the cattle around you, you realised how far removed they were from the majestic dragon. Maybe it was the vision from earlier that had influenced your thoughts. Aemond, as a child, had flown on Vhagar, speaking to her in a language so captivating it had sent shivers down your spine. Up in the sky, his sheer joy had become your own. Even Vhagar hadn’t seemed as menacing as she had during your first encounter. As Aemond stood in front of her, she leaned into his touch, her huge dark eyes softening as if she had become almost human.

The sight of the familiar building facade dragged you out of your thoughts.

“Here it is!” you exclaimed with relief.

Stepping into a small shop, you marvelled as if for the first time. It was remarkable how a variety of different-sized objects had been packed into the tight quarters. The interior was a rich blend of dark mahogany furniture with geometric carvings and emerald accents throughout the shop. Anyone who walked in here wouldn’t have a single doubt that the owner loved this place. Though the counter was unoccupied, the rustling from behind a closet door hinted at the presence of someone within.

You walked further into the shop, while Aemond lingered close to the threshold, his gaze caught by crickets in tiny metallic cages. Why would anyone—

“Y/N! Long time no see!” A raspy voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Mr. Waterwing!” Your face beamed with joy at the sight of an elderly man coming from the pantry. He was so short and thin that people could easily mistake him for a child. His gaze darted to Aemond in confusion, urging you to add, “This is my companion.”

Mr. Waterwing’s shoulder visibly relaxed at your words, and he nodded at you knowingly.

“What brings you here?” he asked, coming closer, wrinkles scattered at the corners of his eyes and cheeks as he offered you a gentle smile. “As far as I remember, you don’t favour such fairs.”

“Eritaiol candles,” the words felt bitter, mirroring your uneasiness. “Is there a chance you have them?”

“Oh, goodness,” his eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten sick.”

“Not really, but I fear it’s a matter of days. Unless,” you punctuated the word, “I get the candles.”

“My dear! So unfortunate!” He shook his head sullenly. “Eritaiol candles are getting more difficult to find. I do have a few in the store, but the price… well, you understand.” His eyes were filled with guilt.

You pressed your lips together. “How many candles do you have?”

“Let me see.” He said, approaching the shelves behind the counter. The drawer creaked open, and he began to rummage through it. "Where are they?" he muttered, opening another drawer and shuffling through the items.

Your gaze returned to Aemond, but he was still closely observing the grasshoppers, leaning over their cages. His hands were clasped behind his back. You couldn’t grasp what caused such an interest in him.

“Here it is!” exclaimed Mr. Waterwing, placing three hefty candles on the dark wooden counter.

“Two will do?”

You shook your head. “I need three. What about the price?”

Mr. Waterwing’s gaze darted between the candles and you, his furrowed brows betraying his worry. Your heart sank. If he had plans for those candles himself, bargaining would be impossible.

When his eyes finally fixed on you, he leaned closer over the counter. Involuntarily, you did the same.

“How about a favour for a favour?” His voice dropped to a whisper, but you knew Aemond could hear every word.

“Sure,” you nodded. “What is it?” 

“My daughter-in-law has gotten sick. Perhaps you could assist?”

Of course. If anything would come before money, it’d be family.

“Does she walk?”

He shook his head bitterly. “Mostly in bed these days. The fever has made her utterly weak.”

Given the plague would recede in the next few days, you could aid her. But if it didn’t… You swallowed hard. Now you had no choice but to give an empty promise.

With a decisive nod, you said, “I’ll assist her.” You were surprised by the confidence in your own voice. The elderly man let out a sigh of relief, and it felt like the burden had lightened upon your shoulders too.

You watched as the old, wrinkled hands skillfully wrapped the candles in creamy paper, securing them with a string. Without lifting his gaze, Mr. Waterwing said loudly, referring to Aemond, “These crickets will be singing in a few hours.”

Aemond’s gaze shifted to the side for a moment, as if he remembered something, but said nothing. 

Slipping the package into your compact satchel, which hung over your shoulder, you gave the final instructions, “Her husband may come to me any day, but preferably before the storm. Just ensure he does exactly what I’ve said.”

Mr. Waterwing’s wrinkly hands wrapped around yours. “Of course! Thank you! And take care!”

“I will.” You forced out a wide smile, despite a lump tightening in your chest. You were no longer certain what the future held for you.

“Nothing better than a barter system,” Aemond said as soon as you had walked far enough away from the shop.

“Not many options for a seer,” you sighed, your hand resting firmly on the satchel. With the crowd being so dense, you had to pay extra attention.

“What of the storm? You said…” His voice trailed off, his eye peering into the distance as his body tensed.

Oblivious to the change in his demeanour, you replied, “The scorcher and the sky colour…” Ahead of you, there was some odd movement. So many horses—

Before you could grasp what was happening, Aemond gripped your hand and pulled you off the road, dragging you further between the stalls. The owners of the stalls gazed angrily at both of you.

“What are you doing?” you exclaimed in utter confusion, attempting to free your hand, but his grip tightened further, making you hiss.

In an alley between the shops, you were pinned between him and the cool brick wall, ready to explode from such audacity. Your blood boiled, and your mouth fell open, but no sound came out when you realised that the people’s chatter had suddenly died. Instead, the clear rhythm of horses' hooves approaching filled the silence. You could see little from your position, but the red dragon across the black banner caused your eyes to widen in realisation.

“The Crown offers,” said a loud, steely voice, “35,000 Golden Dragons for Aemond Targaryen—the one-eyed prince.” You felt his body tense against you, his hands remaining in a tight grip on your forearms as if fearing you'd disappear. Horror crept into you. You looked into his eye, searching for an emotion, but his gaze remained steady and focused on your face. “If you encounter him,” the voice boomed, each word heavy with menace, “do not dare to confront him. Seek out your village leader immediately. He is a danger beyond imagination. The Crown’s bounty stands at 35,000 Golden Dragons for Aemond Targaryen—a traitor and sworn enemy of Queen Rhaenyra, rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.” The chilling words receded into the distance, but your ability to move was still paralysed.

“What did you see?” Aemond’s voice was a soothing whisper.

“What?” you uttered, puzzled, your gaze fixed on his lips in an attempt to decipher his words.

“During the ritual,” he tilted his head, his eye searching your face with an intensity. “You saw something as we’d just commenced.”

It felt like you’d suddenly been pinched and woken up from a nightmare. Memories from the dim-lit room flashed through your mind, banishing the chill from your chest.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, shaking your head, though your voice betrayed you with a soft tremble.

Leaning closer, his breath was a soft puff near your ear. “Liar.”

Your cheeks flushed hot. The proximity of his body pressed against yours and the warmth of his skin caused your inner voice to scream unabashedly, “You saw him, all of him. You know what’s hidden behind the clothes.”

A wave of guilt washed over you. Should you reveal the truth? Apologise? Explain that the visions clung to you, capturing your mind without permission. You’d never had a stronghold over the people’s past, so the only option was to banish such visions from dancing into your mind. It was too late. By opening the door into his mind, you left yours open too. In an attempt to gain power over him, you had let yourself be exposed to him, to the parts of his soul merging into yours.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, forcing a distraction from your unsettling mind, “Are you fond of insects? You were observing the crickets at the shop.”

He replied distantly, “It was unusual, and that’s all.” But the way his eye flickered didn’t go unnoticed by you. You’d got a hold of the right string.

“Liar” was burning on your lips. But you did not dare to say it out loud. You held each other’s gaze; all words had died in your throats. His hand was still upon yours, though the hold was weak. You could pull it off if you wanted, but the touch felt like an anchor, the only thing that steadied you.

The street started buzzing with voices again, signalling that it was safe. Aemond was the first to break eye contact as he leaned away, his touch still warm against your skin.

Hesitating no longer, he stepped out of the alley, and you followed him. Time to go home. Looking at his dark figure before you, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you’d glimpsed something beneath his usual mask.

The sky was painted with interwoven shades of purple, pink, and orange as the sunset unfolded. You had observed the landscape countless times, yet each evening presented a new masterpiece in its perfection. Sitting cross-legged in the meadow felt like paradise. Dragonflies danced around you, their swift wings creating a gentle hum that harmonised with the crickets' chirping. Every soft breeze made the ears of corn tickle lightly against your bare arms, bringing a soothing sensation.

Having returned from the market, you’d immediately lit the two Eritaiol candles in the house, securing one in a safe place in case anything similar occurred again. To your relief, the garden wasn’t infected; the flowers were blooming exquisitely. Aemond had been correct in saying that with both of you away, the plague’s power would loosen around the place. You felt as though you’d escaped its grip.

“They’ve barely burned down,” Aemond said as he approached. He had shed his mantle and was now in a short-sleeved tunic. His hair remained neatly braided, and you wondered if it was a subtle gesture of trust.

“This is one of their benefits,” you replied, swirling a spiklet in your hands. “Though they’re expensive, they serve well and long.”

“The scent, however…” He grimaced, making you chuckle.

Shaking your head with a rueful smile, you said, “Right. We’ll have to sleep with the windows open again.”

Aemond sank to the ground at arm’s length from you, one leg stretched out while the other was bent at the knee. When his demeanour was quiet, it was surprisingly soothing to be in his presence, as if his calmness somehow passed to you.

A grasshopper landed on your leg, its legs twitching slightly. You tapped gently near it, and the insect hopped away.

“Have you ever performed it for anybody else?” he asked.

You gazed at his side profile, puzzled. In the golden hour, his skin shimmered with a warm glow. The light accentuated the sharp lines of his jaw and the intensity of his violet eye, making him seem almost ethereal.

“The ritual,” he clarified.

Your chest tightened. It had never occurred to you that you might talk about it, let alone with him. Years had passed, but the wound was still raw in your heart and fresh in your memory. The price you paid as a seer—the curse of never being able to forget.

Involuntarily, you began picking at your fingers, a habit born from nervousness. One finger at a time, you moved to the other hand, a futile attempt to ground yourself. It was a trick you used to determine if you were dreaming—if this moment with Aemond was real or merely a figment of your imagination.

“Yes,” you finally breathed out, as if the quieter your voice, the lighter the truth would feel. He didn't push further and simply continued to gaze into the distance. This, or the unfulfilled desire to unburden yourself, coaxed you to add, “For my mother.”

When his gaze met yours, his violet eye flickered with deep understanding. He would have done the same for his mother, even if his experience hadn’t been similar to yours. You knew his mother was sacred to him, just as yours had been to you.

“How long did she live after?” His question came out softly.

“A year,” you replied, a lump forming in your throat. You could only bring yourself to talk about her in fewer than a dozen words without risking tears.

“I am sorry,” he said, his voice lowered and genuine.

Something prompted you to add, “She was very kind.”

“Aren’t all mothers?” A faint, genuine smile touched his lips, making you hold your breath. In stark contrast to his usual facade, he could win over hearts simply by being himself.

His gaze turned back to the distance, and you felt a smile on your face, and, surprisingly, a tiny part of the burden was lifted from your chest.

Listening to the melody of nature and admiring the view, you forgot why Aemond was here in the first place. Observing how the incompatible colours blended, merged, and created something magnificent, you were delighted to be back to your serene, cosy world. For the first time, his presence seemed to blend in.

“Please!” Hot tears streamed down your face, each drop a plea for her to stop, to fight for a chance to live rather than exhaust herself even more.

Her voice weakened, and you had to lean closer to catch her words.

“Hold the ritual just as you did for me. He won’t go away. In his madness, he’ll be ruthless and spiteful. When the flower blooms…” Her body shook with a violent cough, each convulsion stealing the words from her. “Lie. Whatever happens, whatever he says, don’t attempt to save him.”

“Mother…”

“Promise me, Y/N, you have to promise me.”

With those words, your vision blurred, and everything fell into darkness.

[blissfullyapillow]

┆I’ve loved you from the start

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ Neuvillette x fem reader

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ wc: 10,483~

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ Prompt: pinning, pinning, and more pinning. Wait, it’s mutual?! Oh, your heart can’t take this… “Oh how I’d wish you’d wake up one day, run to me confess your love at least just let me say, That when I talk to you, Oh cupid walks right through, And shoots an arrow to my heart…. Oh the burning pain... Don’t you dare look at me that way..”

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ warnings: fluff, slowburn, mutual pinning, lots of Fontaine characters make an appearance, reader is referred to as Name instead of Y/N but same thought applies (reader insert)

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ Pillow Talks: Hi guys! I’ve spent the last few days writing this, and I have to say I’m in love with how it turned out! I had to do my man justice (get it?) with a fic I can be proud of. Anyway, I really hope someone can find joy and comfort from this fic. As a side note, yes this fic was inspired by the song From the Start, by Laufey. The specific lines stated in the prompt is what really inspired me to write this. Regarding Neuvillette, I tried to be as lore accurate as possible here haha. I wish you all a wonderful holiday season. Stay safe out there. With much love, Pillow ‹𝟹

‧₊˚ ⋅♡ Masterlist

Credits: sillyakito on pinterest

I tap an impatient finger against my knee as I take a slow survey of my surroundings. Everyone is patiently seated, although animated whispers reach your ears as citizens anxiously wait for the trial to begin.

I don’t know what to expect…

As the people beside me engage in idle chatter, I take a deep breath to mentally prepare myself. My friend convinced me to attend one of Fontaine’s public trails, insisting it was a rite of passage as a new citizen of Fontaine.

Unfortunately for the both of us, they came down with a cold the day before the trial.  I would’ve loved if they could accompany me, but I’m here nonetheless.

Another quick glance around the courtroom sets my nerves on end. I’m fine with huge crowds but at times they can feel suffocating. My finger tapping increases in speed as my thoughts begin to spiral.

Before my thoughts can completely spiral out of control, a loud sound catches the attention of everyone in the room.

There, sitting before everyone in a comically large chair, is the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Something that is no small feat in the world of Teyvat.

He has a commanding presence; there’s something about him that makes it difficult to pry my eyes away. He situates himself before the people of Fontaine, and before long the trial is well underway.

I wind up being swept up in the moment; I’m heavily invested in this case. I close my eyes for a moment, playing detective to deduce whom the culprit is.

The majority of the attending party is not as quiet as I’d prefer them to be; It’s hard to think when everyone is so rowdy.

“Oh my, did you hear that? She’s definitely guilty!” “Disgusting.” “Who? Her? I doubt it was her! Do you not see the remorse on her face? Oh, what poor soul…”

…

aha, that’s it!

I open my eyes with a triumphant expression. I’ve determined who the culprit is. At least, I think so. Now to wait and see.

“Order!” The man before the citizens of Fontaine slams what appears to be a cane to the ground. The room is immediately engulfed in silence.

I gaze at him in awe.

The man, who I now know is the Iudex of Fontaine, talks through his deductions before a machine generates the final verdict.

I silently cheer since I successfully determined the culprit.

Overall, I’d say this was a valuable experience. There are definitely some prominent flaws in how trials are viewed and the implemented system. Of course that was only one trial and I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, but something about the fate of another being viewed as entertainment just doesn’t sit right with me.

With my head in the clouds, I don’t pay attention to where I’m going.

Well, not until I accidentally bump into something.

A small “omph!” comes out of whatever I bumped into. That’s weird. Why would an inanimate object make a—

The sudden realization that I bumped into someone dawns on me. I’m quick to bow my head in embarrassment.

“Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention..” I hope they aren’t mad!

I blink my eyes open when I hear nothing, and I find myself face to face with a Melusine.

“It’s no problem. We can all be clumsy at times.” The Melusine smiles at me; it’s the most heartwarming smile to ever grace my eyes.

I can feel the way my heart melts as the Melusine continues to smile at me, although she tilts her head in confusion.

Oh, I haven’t responded to her yet!

“You’re right. Still, I’m so sorry for bumping into you.” A sheepish smile lifts my lips. The Melusine sighs as they shake their head in dismay.

“Oh dear. You remind me an awful lot of Monsieur Neuvillette. He tends to over apologize for things when it comes to us.” This time, I’m the one tilting my head in confusion.

“Monsieur… Neuvillette? … Did I say that right?” The Melusine nods her confirmation, although she seems a bit surprised by my confusion. Why, though? “Are you new to fontaine?” She asks. When I slowly nod my head in confirmation, her eyes sparkle with an emotion I can’t pinpoint.

“Ah, I see. Well, my name is Sedene. It is very nice to meet you.” Sedene holds out her hand for a friendly shake, and it takes everything in me not to squeal over how adorable she is.

I haven’t lived in Fontaine for long, but all of the Melusine have my heart. They are all so sweet with their own personalities, it’s hard not to have a soft spot for them! They especially helped me out with navigating the city when I first arrived, their eyes devoid of judgment or apprehension when communicating with me.

Sedene tilts her head at me once more, and it takes me a moment to realize I haven’t responded yet… again.

My face warms in embarrassment.

Why do I keep getting lost in thought today?

I smile at her as I extend my hand, and we shake. “So, what’s your name?” She asks me. “Name.” Is my response.

She considers my answer, trying the name out on her own. “Name… it sounds pretty.” Sedene’s thoughtful comment causes my smile to morph into a grin. “Not as pretty as Sedene! Still, thank you.” I bend down to my knees to be at eye level with her.

I notice her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t seem to take offense to my action. If anything, she seems overjoyed. “Y/N, have you met Monsieur Neuvillette yet?” I shake my head no in response to her question.

“Monsieur… Neuvillette…,” Sedene nods again to confirm I have said the name correctly as I speak, “..Who is he?”

She blinks her eyes owlishly, before she bursts into a fit of giggles.

I’m a bit taken aback, but I find myself joining in on the laughter. Once Sedene stops laughing she gestures for me to follow her. I oblige her request as she begins to skip away.

Before I know it Sedene has led me to a new area, and now I stand before a large door. Sedene politely knocks before a voice from inside calls out, “Come in.”

Huh, why does that voice sound so familiar?

My question is quickly answered once Sedene pushes the door open and I follow her inside.

Sitting before the both of us, at his desk, is none other than the beautiful Iudex of Fontaine.

Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette!

everything clicks for me, and I find myself feeling a bit overwhelmed.

I’m standing before such a prominent figure in Fontaine! With no appointment or anything! I’m sure you need to schedule an appointment to see someone like him, right?

Is there some sort of etiquette I should follow here?

I break out into a nervous sweat as Sedene introduces me.

“I hope I am not imposing on your work Monsieur, but I have someone I’d like you to meet. This is Y/N, and she is a new citizen of Fontaine.” I shyly wave and offer a smile as Monsieur Neuvillette fixes his gaze on me.

Archons, my heart is pounding!

…

He remains silent.

I catch sight of his curious eyes roaming my figure, before they leave me to return to Sedene.

A soft, warm expression takes over his features as he communicates with her.

It makes my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

“You are fine, Sedene. I was just about to take a break from all of this paperwork anyway.” He speaks in a very refined manner, but his tone is more relaxed than it was in court. Obviously that’s to be expected, but still.

“Well hello Name, you can refer to me as Monsieur Neuvillette. Thank you for being good company to Sedene.” The Iudex of Fontaine now stands. He makes his way over to us.

I scramble my brain for a dignified response since the only fact in my mind is that I’ll be able to see his pretty features up close.

Oh,

He’s coming closer.

He’s standing in front of me now.

Damn, he’s even more handsome up close.

“Hmm?” He hums, prompting me for something. But what could it—?

Oh, yeah. I need to respond.

I open my mouth to thank him for his generosity, maybe even congratulate him on how smooth the trial seemed to go today.

Unfortunately, he chooses that moment to glance at Sedene, and he chuckles at whatever he sees.

Oh, my heart.

…

“Yeah.” Is my blunt, ineloquent response.

Oh ARCHONS why is that the only word that came out of my mouth?

He seems a bit taken aback by my lack of a response, but then he smiles.

At me.

He chuckles once more, and he lifts his hand. He moves his hand in my direction, and my entire body stiffens. His fingers grace my cheek.

My heart stops.

“You had something there. Do not worry, I have removed it.” Monsieur Neuvillette tilts his head in a polite gesture, a warm smile on his face as he retracts his hand.

I forget to feel embarrassed since I just had THE beautiful Iudex of Fontaine touch my cheek.

“Thank you..” I murmur, sounding a bit more eloquent this time.

“You are quite welcome. How long has it been since you’ve arrived in Fontaine? Do you hail from Liyue?” Neuvillette’s eyes roam my form once more as the realization dawns on me.

He’s studying my clothes, since I’m not wearing clothing native to Fontaine.

“Ah, yes. I just moved here recently. From Liyue.” When the word ‘Liyue’ leaves my lips, Neuvillette’s expression shifts for the briefest of moments.

It’s subtle, but I notice the quick frown that turns his gorgeous lips upside down, before they resume their neutral position.

“I see. Well, there are many things to enjoy in Fontaine. I hope you find Fontaine to be a suitable new home for you.” He sounds sincere, and it makes me happy.

“Thank you Monsieur.” I twiddle my fingers as my gaze leaves his face, to look around the room.

I assume this is his office.

There are shelves in the room, huge as they are, and there are two piles of paperwork on his work desk.

Sedene strikes up a conversation with Neuvillette, but I tune it out.

That is, until my name is brought up again.

“So, what do you say, Name? Does that sound like something that’s of interest to you?” I whip my head around to look at him, and his gaze is as fierce as it is intense.

Uh, what was the question?

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can I interrupt. “Y-Yes! Sure, that sounds wonderful…” I chuckle nervously, hoping he doesn’t realize I didn’t catch his question.

He smirks at my response.

“So you don’t know what I have asked of you, yet you agree nonetheless? You are proving to be an intriguing individual Name. I shall see you here tomorrow then. Promptly in the morning, at 9, and not a moment later.” He turns then, walking back to his desk.

“Yes.” Is the only response I’m capable of mustering.

Oh my.. wait, did I say my question out loud earlier?

I watch as he sits down at his desk once more, that same smirk on his lips as he returns to work.

“Thank you for introducing us, Sedene. I shall see you tomorrow.” Sedene happily waves goodbye to Monsieur Neuvillette, and I hastily follow suit.

We leave Monsieur Neuvillette to his work, and Sedene happily bids me farewell outside of his door. “It seems you’ve intrigued Monsieur Neuvillette. That is not an easy feat (Name). I shall see you here tomorrow. At 9 o'clock okay? Don’t be late.” Sedene moves in to give me a hug, and I quickly bend down to return it.

As I leave the Court of Fontaine, I’m in a daze.

What did I just get myself into?

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

It’s 8:50. I am most definitely not running late to my surprise meeting with the chief justice of Fontaine.

On the contrary, I’ve arrived early!

Too bad my sense of direction isn’t serving me well..

“Um, excuse me? Do you know where I can find Monsieur Neuvillette’s office?” I kindly ask a Melusine I stumble upon.

They generously agree, and soon I’m led to the same door I stood before the previous day.

I check the time. It’s 8:57 now. How fortunate.

“Thank you so much!” I gratefully give my thanks to the Melusine before me. I bend down to give her a hug, and she accepts. “No worries. Thank you, (Name). It’s been a long time since Monsieur Neuvillette allowed himself to be involved with another person.” Oh?

Before I can ask the Melusine to elaborate, the door to Neuvillette’s office suddenly opens.

I look up, and he stands tall and proud above us. He awkwardly coughs into his fist as he glances at us. “Name. I’m glad you could make it.”

I take that as my Que to rise and properly stand in front of him. I discreetly wave goodbye to the Melusine as she skips away. When I turn back to face Neuvillette, he has a glint in his eyes.

I can only hope to decipher what it means.

He moves to stand beside me outside of his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Now, are you ready to begin?” I feel a sudden burst of energy surge through me, jumping up in excitement. “Yes! I’ll admit, I have no idea what we’re doing and I usually don’t wake up this early, but I’m ready!”

My words clearly take him by surprise, as his whole body stiffens and his gorgeous eyes widen.

“My… you sure are full of surprises.” He sounds smug about it for whatever reason, but I take it as a compliment.

“Sedene had asked me to show you around Fontaine, since you are new to this nation. Normally, this is not an activity someone of my.. position.. would partake in with a citizen. So count yourself lucky, as it was Sedene who requested it.” I eagerly nod my head in approval, and a shy “thank you,” leaves my lips.

He only nods, noticeably turning his head to look elsewhere.

He was struggling to contain his smile.

“Let us be on our way then. There is much to show you, while the day is still young.” So with that, Monsieur Neuvillette guides me out of the Palais Mermonia, which he later explains is the name of the building his office is located in, to show me the sights of Fontaine.

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

Neuvillette proves to be a wonderful tour guide, though I didn’t expect any less from him. He points out famous shops that the citizens rave about, making a point to mention Chioriya Boutique, run by a famous fashion designer from Inazuma. My eyes sparkle as I catch glimpses of the clothes, but Neuvillette is quick to continue our tour.

I can’t help but pout as we continue on. My eyes struggle to leave a particular piece that has caught my eye. Little did I know, Neuvillette was all too aware.

As we continue our impromptu tour, we run into many people who are familiar with Neuvillette. Each and every one of them express genuine surprise at seeing him out and about, especially with someone they’ve never seen before. 

A famous magician, Lyney, performs a magic trick for us as his assistant Lynette silently stands beside him. I politely applaud, enjoying the cool trick he managed to pull off. 

Halfway through the tour Neuvillette stops me. He pointedly looks towards a building a few feet ahead of us. My confusion morphs into one of delight as a girl runs out from behind it, quickly swarming Neuvillette as she asks for an interview for what apparently is the third time that week.

Later on, nearing the end of the tour, we run into a tall, beautiful lady. Neuvillette introduces her as the Champion Duelist, Clorinde. To say I'm starstruck is an understatement. She seems a bit stoic, but a subtle smile remained on her lips as she questioned what Neuvillette was doing with a citizen of Fontaine. 

I giggle as he slowly becomes more flustered with Clorinde’s obvious teasing, briskly walking off as he bids her a quick farewell soon after. She smirks, turning her gaze to me. I smile at her, and she nods politely before she continues on her way.

Our tour ends with a chance meeting, with none other than the Archon herself. 

Well, if the whispers you heard are true, then former Archon… ish? I don’t know the whole story, and it honestly sounds complicated. I don’t particularly care to know the details, as I give Furina a friendly wave of the hand. She stops to greet the two of us. She almost looks like she wants to ask Neuvillette what everyone has already, but she refrains from doing so, quickly entering her house with what appeared to be boxes of macaroni in her arms.

…

I think it’s better not to ask.

With that, my tour of Fontaine with Neuvillette concludes. The two of us return to our starting position, back to the Palais Mermonia. Neuvillette’s expression is hard to read as the two of you stand in front of his office door. “Thank you so much for doing this for me. Or, well, I’m not sure if it was entirely for me but either way I appreciate it! I got to meet a lot of cool people, although some of them made me nervous with how cool they seem…” You chuckle as you express your thanks. 

“No need to thank me. I actually enjoyed myself quite a bit.” You both send a smile in the other’s direction, before an awkward silence ensues. 

Luckily, you believe you’re good at handling these. “Um.. so, until we see each other again?” You extend your hand for a shake. He looks taken aback for a moment before he reaches out towards you, shaking your hand. 

“Until we meet again, Name. Truly, you are a lovely individual.” He politely nods, smiling at you before he turns, entering his office. 

His back is turned as the door shuts behind him.

Thank goodness.

You quickly place your hand over your heart, as the organ beneath your chest pounds violently against your ribcage.

Archons, how did you manage to walk beside him all day long? He’s genuinely an intriguing individual, and you enjoyed the various expressions he made. From a look of exasperation with the young reporter Charlotte, to looks of endearment as some Melusine waved to him when they spotted him, to an adorable look of embarrassment as Clorinde took it upon herself to extensively question his motives.

A soft look paints your features. Your cheeks, along with your heart, feels so warm.

You take your time leaving the Palais Mermonia.

Your only wish is that you’re able to meet Monsieur Neuvillette once more, even if your wish is quite far-fetched and impractical.

Who knew a rainy day would be the thing to grant your wish?

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

A heavy sigh leaves my lips as I hold my umbrella above my head. This rainy weather is quite fitting for today; after that trial I just witnessed, anyone would be sad. 

I roll my shoulders as I attempt to work out the kink in my neck. I stayed behind as the other citizens slowly filed out of the courtroom. The verdict weighs heavy on my chest. It was a tough case to watch, and it pained me to see the grief stricken look that crossed Neuvillette’s features as he announced the defendant guilty. 

I sat alone in the vast courtroom to give myself time to absorb everything that occurred. It almost felt like too much, but then again, I’ve always been one to put myself in others shoes even when it doesn’t directly affect me.

I shiver; it’s getting quite cold with this heavy downpour.

My gaze shifts to the sky. Although the circumstances were not ideal, I can’t help but feel a sense of peace wash over me as the rain splatters to the ground. A raindrop drips down from my colorful umbrella, splashing to the ground before my feet.

I’ve always loved the rain. Sometimes it can be a bit of a nuisance, but even so, there was something so beautiful about it. I adore all kinds of weather, but rainy weather has always held a special place in my heart. It calms me enough to sleep during late nights; it makes what would’ve been an ordinary night cozier and a bit special.

Nothing soothes me more than the gentle, or rough, splatter of raindrops against my window.

My  thoughts drift back to the present as my eyes come into focus. Whoops, I was daydreaming again.

I glance around, hoping no one spotted me zoned out, when my eyes connect with a familiar pair of dark blue-purple slit eyes. Said eyes widen, before they visibility soften. He takes long strides towards me, and my heart flips in my chest. 

‘Act cool, Name. Act cool,’ My thoughts warn me.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Neuvillette.” I cringe at my choice of words, internally berating myself for sounding cheesy.

“It is lovely to see you again as well, Miss Y/N.” Neuvillette smiles courteously in my direction, before his gaze shifts towards the sky. “Ah, my apologies. This heavy rain must be quite an inconvenience for you.” I glance at him, with what I’m sure is confusion on my features. Why is he apologizing for the rain? 

It’s not like he’s the one causing it. 

“No need to apologize for something that isn’t your fault Monsieur.” I’m not sure if I’m imagining the way his body winces. 

“No, no… ahem–” He awkwardly coughs into his fist, cheeks warm as he looks elsewhere.

Huh. How odd.

I shake my head to get myself back on topic. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette, do you have an umbrella?” My question draws his gaze in my direction. I suck in a sharp intake of breath at the intensity within his gaze.

“No, but do not worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He dismisses my concerns, stepping forward to walk in the rain. “It was nice seeing you again–” He pauses, glancing at his side. There I stand beside him, stubbornly holding the umbrella over his head.

He sighs.

“Y/n, I was honest when I said–” “I don’t care. I mean–” I catch myself, reminding myself Neuvillette is a respectable man that I can’t talk carelessly with as if he were a friend. “I mean… I understand. Still, please let me walk with you. I may be imagining it, but you do not seem well. I imagine a trial like that would make anyone feel ill. Not to mention you were the one presiding over the whole ordeal…” I’m a bit nervous that I’m overstepping my boundaries, but I figure it’s worth a shot.

Monsieur Neuvillette looks startled as he stares at me. I shift my weight from foot to foot, feeling awkward once more.

He suddenly looks away. Silence continues our conversation; with a gentle grasp of his hand, he removes the umbrella from my hand to hold it above the both of us. 

“Please, let me repay your kindness.” I nod, following him as we walk side by side through the torrential onslaught of rain. 

It isn’t long before we enter what appears to be an indoor cafe, ducking inside. Neuvillette closes my umbrella before he hands it back to me. I whisper my thanks, following closely behind as we find empty seats.

“Is there anything you’d like to try?” Neuvillette gestures to the menu in front of me. I feel bad, but I can’t resist looking over the menu. Scanning the various sweet items, my mouth begins to water. “This looks so good! Oh, but this does too. Hmm, maybe I want to try this…” I talk to myself, temporarily forgetting that Neuvillette is sitting in front of me. A sudden burst of laughter startles me, and I quickly place the menu down as I watch Neuvillette.

His eyes are crinkled, his hand running through his hair as he laughs unexpectedly.

Stop it, heart. 

He quickly composes himself, chuckling to myself. “You certainly seem eager. Please, order what you want. It’s on me.” I open my mouth immediately to protest, but he speaks before I can utter a single objection.

“The only thing I want to hear from those lips is what you want to order.”

Archons.

This man will be the death of me.

So, I oblige, telling Neuvillette my order before he promptly stands to leave, ruffling my hair as he passes.

My face burns. 

There’s simply no way he said that to me. No way. Nada. Zlitch.

Except…

I know what I heard.

Augghhhh.

I roughly put my head in my hands as I will my heart to calm down. You barely know the man, he didn’t mean it like that… yet.. 

I’m in trouble.

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

Neuvillette returns with my requested order, and I know my eyes must shine with horribly contained excitement. “Do not wait for me, go ahead and…” He struggles to contain his laughter when I don’t even wait for him to finish speaking, happily devouring the treat before me.  

He returns a minute later with my requested drink, just to see an empty plate. He really struggles not to chuckle. “Don’t laugh. I see it on your face, mister.” I warn. “Whatever do you mean, Miss Y/n? I would never laugh at a lady enjoying a sweet treat.” His tone is smug, accompanied by a grin. He places my drink in front of me before he sits in front of me once more. I pout at his obvious teasing, but decide to let it slide.

“Say, where’d you get the fancy glass? What’s in it?” I’m curious, leaning a bit closer in hopes of catching a glimpse at the context. 

“Ah, this? It is simply water, my drink of choice.” He looks all too elegant as he swirls the glass in his hand before he takes a long sip.

Your eyes are glued to his person. 

I should feel embarrassed at my shameless staring, really, but the sight before me is too beautiful to pass up.

The moment his eyes begin to open once he’s finished savoring the taste, I avert my eyes so fast it’s comical.

Unbeknownst to you, he witnessed the whole thing.

He won’t out you though, you’ve treated him with kindness by sharing your umbrella and he can only tease you so much. 

“Anyway, are you feeling better?” I ask. He looks confused for a moment as I take a sip of my drink. You can see the moment it clicks for him, his eyes visibly widening in recognition.

“Oh… yes… I.. am…” He seems completely taken aback by that revelation; it’s all too cute. “I’m glad. I know it mustn’t be easy presiding over cases, but you really do such an important job. I’m sure many are grateful that of all the people in Teyvat, it’s you whose the Iudex of Fontaine.” My words are sincere as I relay my honest feelings to him, closing my eyes as I take another delightful sip of the coffee I ordered.

This taste is absolutely divine. I haven’t had coffee that tastes this good in so long.

I keep my eyes closed as I savor the taste, slowly opening them. 

Just to find Neuvillette staring intently at my features.

To be fair, I did the same thing to him moments before, but gosh this feels embarrassing. I hope I wasn’t making a weird face!

I quickly avert my eyes, looking down at the table as I struggle to contain my smile, surely making an utterly goofy expression. 

I hear Nevuillette’s gentle laugh.

I slowly look up to see such a delicate look on his face; archons, I’ve always wanted to be on the receiving end of a gaze like this. Now that I am, I feel all too overwhelmed, yet simultaneously all too.. Elated. 

I giggle; it bursts out of me like a spoiler to a movie bursts from the lips of another. Neuvillette catches himself, coughing awkwardly into his fist, a habit I’ve realized he has, before he looks down at the table.

Now, we both look silly huh?

I smile to myself. 

I’m glad I was able to help him relax…

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

We step outside once more. I’m prepared to share my umbrella with him, whether he wants to or not! 

Thankfully, that isn’t needed. We both look to the now clear skies, as the stars twinkle above. It seems particularly easy to spot them tonight, not a cloud or raindrop in sight. 

I cheer.

“Look, Neuvillet- Monsieur! It’s stopped raining!” I excitedly point to the dreamscape of a sky, before I turn to face Neuvillette.

I falter at the fragility of his gaze; he’s as still as a marble statue carved to perfection, his fixed expression conveying a tempest of emotion as he longingly looks to the sky. 

“It’s over…” The words are murmured under his breath. My own leaves in quiet gasp, completely rooting me to the spot as his pulchritudinous expression holds me captive. 

A few moments of silence pass between the two of us, both of us admiring different things, yet they are entirely the same at the root. He slowly lowers his gaze to return to mine once more, and they hold me at his every beck and call, as they always seem to do. 

“Ah.. my apologies. I was lost in thought.” He smiles, turning his body to face me. “I appreciate the time we spent together today. I hope to see you again soon, Y/n.” His words cause my heart to flutter with an undeniable yearning that shouldn’t be there. 

Yet, my heart longs for the man standing before me, it performs somersaults in my chest  as he moves, ready to part ways.

“By the way, you can refer to me as Neuvillette.” His statement is simple, yet it holds so much weight. 

He nods in lieu of saying farewell, his steps echo throughout the quiet streets of Fontaine as he makes his way to his destination. 

I can only clutch my chest as I watch him leave, embedded to the spot long after his figure disappears from my line of sight.

Oh, Archons.

What have I gotten myself into?

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

My eyes unconsciously wander to the door once more, waiting for a hand to pry it open from the inside.

I hear giggles beside me, and I can only groan as I get caught red-handed in the act for the fifth time this evening. 

“Name, Monsieur Neuvillette’s meeting should be ending soon.” A sweet Melusine whispers into my ear. I can only muster a meek nod, returning my attention back to the task at hand. 

I’m waiting with a few Melusine, Sedene among us, as Neuvillette finishes his very important meeting.

I wandered into the Palais Mermonia of my own volition, just to find out that Neuvillette is occupied in a meeting. I planned on leaving after I heard the news, but a few Melusine nearby seemed to recognize me and asked me to sit with them.

Lo and behold, I’m here learning how to weave a flower crown with fellow Melusine as we wait outside of Neuvillette’s office.

“You’re doing great Name. Is this really your first time weaving a flower crown?” Sedene’s curious question boosts my confidence. “Yes, it is! I’m glad I’m doing so well that you felt the need to ask that.” Sedene happily nods beside me, before she skips away to tend to something.

I concentrate on weaving the final piece; my trembling fingers complete the flower crown. 

The group of us let out a collective cheer, before we quickly quiet down when Sedene scolds us. We are just right outside Nevuillette’s office after all.

“It looks so pretty! Look at the one I weaved.” A Melusine holds her flower crown up for me to see. It’s much more intricate than mine, but I only feel a swell of pride as I give her my honest praise. 

Suddenly, we hear voices from behind the door. My leg starts to bounce as my eyes remain fixated on the door, waiting for the moment it’ll open. 

I don’t have to wait long, mere moments later the door opens slowly, and Neuvillette’s guest is escorted out of the room. They wave to him, a short blonde with a floaty… thingy. Is that a toy or a person?

I almost want to rub my eyes to make sure I’m seeing things correctly, but I figure it’s best not to question it. I often encounter many creatures and people I wouldn’t expect, but they’re usually a delight in their own unique way.

The blonde traveler and their companion spot all of us sitting together. They seem like they want to come over. They place one foot in front of them before the small floating child beside them interrupts, loudly proclaiming “Paimon is hungry! We’ve gone way too long without food!” The blonde traveler stops and simply smiles, waving in our direction. All of the Melusines wave back in friendly greeting. Well, if they’re friends with Melusines then I see no reason to be cautious. I join the rest of my companions in waving. The blonde traveler winds up chasing the floating thing as they dash towards the exit.  

Huh. What an.. Interesting encounter. 

My thoughts are interrupted when the person I’ve wanted to see most finally emerges from his office. I feel my jaw go slack as I stare in his direction.

He has yet to notice me, so I take the opportunity to admire him. My eyes trace over his form, going painstakingly slow as they admire his length waist white hair. They settle on the adorable ribbon holding his hair in place. I tilt my head, noticing the almost horn like accessories adorning his head. I wonder what that really is? It suits him, but I wonder if..

All my thoughts come to a halt when he finally turns, and his bewitching orbs hold mine hostage. 

I couldn’t look away even if I willed it; nothing regarding his appearance has changed, but it’s almost as if.. The scenery, the world around me has grown more vibrant in color. 

The pounding in my chest feels surreal as he smiles at us. He takes slow and deliberate steps in our direction, curiously eyeing the flower crowns in our hands.

“Name, you may want to close your mouth.” Someone whispers in my ear. 

I immediately close it, feeling all too embarrassed.

Uh.. 

It’s not use. I can’t formulate a single thought.

I dumbly watch as Neuvillette finally reaches us, engaging in pleasant conversation with the girls around me. I pointedly look down, fiddling with the crown in my hands. What if he scolds me for being here, and distracting the Melusine from their duties? I’d hate for them to get in trouble because of me, or to be on the receiving end of Neuvillette’s disappointed gaze.

“Name. What has your mind so occupied that you didn’t notice me sitting down beside you?” Saying I jump in my seat is an understatement.

I’m startled, jerking before I turn to gaze into those mesmerizing orbs once more. I giggle awkwardly before I raise the flower crown in my hands. His gaze finally leaves mine, looking at the object in my hands. 

I’m relieved he’s finally stopped looking at me, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad as well.

What is wrong with me!?

I close my eyes and take a grounding deep breath in.

When they open once more, I feel much more composed. “Neuvillette, these girls showed me how to make a flower crown.” I hear words of agreement as the Melusine all speak up at once. “Yes, and Name has done a wonderful job.” “She’s great company, Monsieur.” “Monsieur, do you want to join us?” “Why don’t you try hers on Monsieur Neuvillette?” Neuvillette laughs, holding up his hand with the onslaught of comments.

“Ah, I see. I’m glad to hear it. I know firsthand how lovely her company is. I’d be delighted to join you all. I do not mind trying Name’s flower crown, as long as she is okay with it.” You gawk at Neuvillette’s smooth response to every comment previously directed at him. You assume it’s a skill he must’ve picked up being the Iudex of Fontaine, being able to take in information from multiple sources at a time.

“Um.. yeah, I’d love it if you could try mine on. Sorry if it isn’t as pretty...” A shy smile lifts my lips before I gesture for him to lower his head. He dismisses my concern with a simple, “Nonsense,” before he’s lowering his head for me. 

I easily place the delicate crown upon his head, admiring his well kept hair up close. 

My eyes find the horn like accessories once more.

I shouldn’t.

I really shouldn’t.

Yet I do.

My hand has a mind of its own, reaching out before they gently caress the blue accessories on his head.

I hear him suck in a sharp intake of breath as the Melusines around us gasps in dramatic surprise.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, actually allowing me to continue.

I’m not going to waste this opportunity. I selfishly lift both of my hands, caressing each appendage as I feel the smoothness beneath my fingertips. My hands glide up and down; it isn’t long before they reach the base of the appendages. There’s no way this is an accessory, they don’t feel like one. Are these actual horns? Hm, if they are then surely he’ll feel it if I…

A careful squeeze of the bases has him jumping, jerking away from my touch. I immediately start to apologize, but stop myself when I catch sight of his face. His entire face is redder than the shiniest apple in Mondstadt, his eyes looking every which way as he clearly tries to compose himself.

For whatever reason his breathing is a bit ragged and he groans, hiding his head in his hands.

I’ve never seen Neuvillette look so flustered before; this sight is a treat for my eyes, and I’m enjoying every last second of it.

I can’t resist the small coo that leaves my lips.

He groans again.

“N-Name, thank you for the beautiful flower crown. I’ll keep it in my office. Please, excuse me.” He quickly stands, speed walking to his office before the door slams behind him.

You’re a bit bewildered now. And a bit confused.

If those are actual horns on his head, then is Neuvillette really a human? I mean, he could be a hybrid of some sorts maybe. I’ve seen those around when I traveled to different nations, looking for a new home to settle down in.

I feel a bit bad for touching his horns like that without his permission. My worried eyes turn to ask the Melusine if I upset Neuvillette, only to see them all crowded around me, eyes wide and full of awe. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette let you touch his horns Name!” “How unexpected.” “Oh my gosh you two are so cute!” “The other girls were telling the truth!” They all chatter excitedly amongst themselves, giddy and barely able to contain their enthusiasm. They quickly bid me farewell when the door to Neuvillette’s office opens once more, giving me quick hugs and pats on the back before they scatter.

One even wishes me luck.

What do I need luck for? I’m not entirely sure, but I’m definitely taking it. 

Neuvillette appears more composed when he sits down beside me, the flower crown still on his head. “I thought you were going to put the flower crown in your office?” I ask. He seems confused for a moment, before realization reaches his eyes.

“Ah, yes. I did say that. I decided your hard work deserves to be appreciated, so I will wear it until the day comes to an end.” His words elicit a broad grin to appear on my lips, and his eyes noticeably take in the sight.

A smile presents itself on his lips as we spend the next few hours just chatting amongst ourselves. 

I’ve learned that Neuvillette can be quite humorous, given the opportunity. I’ve realized a lot of things about him from our interactions. Like how he prefers to keep distance between himself and the citizens of Fontaine, since it is possible one day they may end up on trial. It makes this relationship we’ve formed a bit unusual, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make me happy.

He also loves water. He wound up telling me how water tastes different from each region, and the feelings they evoke in him when he indulges in their pristine taste. 

Oh, and the warmth he displays towards Melusines is just another thing that I love about him, he can be so–

Wait..

My entire body goes rigid as warmth engulfs every crevice and limb, my body burns like the hottest of waters against human skin. 

Well, my feelings are quite obvious, but to admit it so easily to myself would mean…

Neuvillette stops speaking, eyeing me curiously as I internally berate myself for developing such feelings. I truly don’t know what to make of it, so I simply grip my clothes in my hands, pushing my feelings aside.

Neuvillette seems like he wants to say something, but decided against it. His eyes glance at my balled up fists, and his eyes swirl with an emotion I fail to pinpoint.

“I see you’re still wearing clothes from Liyue. This is not a complaint, just a mere observation.” Ah. I look down at my clothes.

He’s right, maybe it’s time I get something that’ll blend in more. I mean, I see people around Fontaine wearing clothes from Inazuma, Liyue, and Mondstadt even, so there really is no need for me to buy new clothes. I feel comfortable enough to walk around in the clothes I used to wear around Liyue. Still, I have to admit I love Fontaine’s style when it comes to clothes. Maybe I’ll get something new, just to see how I feel in it.

Neuvillette slowly stands. My eyes follow his movements, and they take note of his offered hand. “Come, there is somewhere I wish to take you.” You don’t need to think twice; you happily take his hand, and he helps you stand. 

You dutifully follow Neuvillette, choosing to not read into the fact he has yet to let go of your hand.

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

I admit, I’m shocked.

Neuvillette escorted me to Chioriya Boutique, and in mere moments one of the staff took my measurements as requested by the Chief Justice. 

The bewilderment on their faces caused a snicker to slip from my lips before I stopped myself.

People’s reactions to Neuvillette are always so varied and dynamic, it’s very entertaining to see yet equally intriguing. 

Neuvillette bombards me with questions regarding my fashion choices before he relays this information to the staff. I wait, expecting something more to happen, but alas he ushers me away from the boutique. 

I sigh, pinching my nose. I really hope he’s not trying to get me anything. I’d love to pick something out for myself, but he wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise! I couldn't resist his earnest gaze, so I wound up waiting to the side as he requested.

I look up when the sound of footsteps reach my ears. He approaches me, a satisfied pull of his lips sends my heart into overdrive.

“I have taken care of business here. Now, perhaps we could take a walk by a riverbank ro somewhere similarly fluvial.” He extends his hand to me once more. I’m baffled to say the least. I consider protesting, opening my mouth to insist he does not need to get anything for me, but his hard glare is warning enough.

My mouth closes unceremoniously, and I quietly take his hand. He’s radiant now, humming as he walks closely by my side.

I look to the sky, the blue hues have long since shifted to beautiful pinks and purples.

Oh, Neuvillette. 

You are none the wiser of the effect you have on me…

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

I wait outside the Opera Epiclese as a strong downpour of rain threatens to drown the poor souls who don’t have an umbrella. 

I didn’t witness the trial today, but it’s become a habit to walk with Neuvillette after his trials. He was conflicted about this habit when it first began, but now I notice the undesigned glint in his eye whenever he catches sight of me after a trial. 

So, it’s turned into a regular part of our daily routine.

Unfortunately it seems the trial wasn’t an easy one today; as people file out of the courthouse, sullen faces are many a dozen. 

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest; if the citizens' faces look so solemn, then I can only imagine…

Minutes pass, long after the last person left the opera house. I start to second guess if he’s even here anymore. Maybe he left so I wouldn’t have to see him? Fortunately, he chooses that moment to emerge from the Opera house. 

My eyes light up, excited to finally see him… but..

Oh..

poor Neuvillette…

I bite my lip when his calm, neutral expression catches my eye. Neuvillette isn’t one to openly express his thoughts and feelings through expression, but I know it must’ve been particularly harrowing if he can’t even muster a frown. 

He looks up, and his impassive gaze locks with mine. He feigns a smile as he approaches me. My hand grips the handle of the umbrella; my heart aches for him.

“Thank you for waiting for me, Name. I apologize for taking so long, shall we pro-” Something about his eyes, devoid of spirit, arrests me. His rigid movements evokes a dreadful throb in my chest. 

I drop the umbrella I’m holding, opting to rest my hands on his cheeks. He’s a bit startled by my actions, lifting his hands to rest on top of my trembling one’s. He sighs deeply, closing his eyes. 

He leans into my touch.

Silence ensues.

The cold nibs at my skin. It threatens to seep into me through the fabric of my clothes, but I couldn’t care less when the man before me is clearly hurting.

A moment passes before Neuvillette clears his throat. I already know he’s going to try and brush this off, like he normally tends to do. 

“Name, while I appreciate your concern, I don’t–” “Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry.” The rest of his words die in his throat. He’s silent, but I can see the effect the words had on him; his eyes squeeze so tightly it looks borderline painful.

“Name.. where did you hear..?” Oh. He wants to know where I learned about this.

“Do you remember that blonde traveler you had a meeting with that day? And the floating child thing, wait, I think they said their name was Paimon..” You think out loud, satisfied when Neuvillette stiffly nods in confirmation.

“Well, they were one of the attendees of today’s trial. They stopped to chat with me when they saw me waiting here for you. They told me when I see you and it’s still raining, if I say ‘Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, Don’t cry,’ it’ll cheer you up.” My explanation doesn’t seem to surprise him. He only sighs.

It takes him a moment before he slowly opens his eyes.

“I… see. Well.. They were correct. I’ll have to thank them during our next encounter.” I smile brightly at him, and in response his gaze seems to soften. I look out to the sky; the rain has considerably lessened its intensity. Droplets still hit the ground, but it’s an improvement from the earlier downpour. 

“I do have to wonder though, why does an old children’s song speaking of the hydro dragon have such an effect on you, Neuvillette?” He raises an eyebrow, something I didn’t know he was capable of. 

I giggle as he informs me, “It’s not that the song has an effect on me per se, but…” “Hmmm?” I prompt him with a  gentle smile on my lips. He looks elsewhere. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, hydro dragon.”

The way he whisks his head, still resting in the palm of my hands, to gawk at me confirms my underlying suspicions. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, but if I’m really not.. Then maybe..

I release Neuvillette’s face in favor of wrapping him in a warm embrace. He emits a choked sound from deep in his throat when I start to stroke his back, repeating the rhyme once more.

Neuvillette’s sigh sounds equally exhausted as it does exasperated. “Whoever created that rhyme must have believed the Hydro Dragon was akin to a bleeding heart. It could  not have been known if the Hydro Dragon would grieve for humans…” You ponder the meaning of his words for a few moments, before you respond with your own thoughts.

“While that may be true, it’s something only the Hydro Dragon knows the answer to. Whether he sympathizes with us silly humans…” I pull back to look at him. I’m really praying the love I feel stirring in my heart isn’t obvious on my face.

His eyes widen a fraction. He appears completely taken aback. I listen for the sound of the rain, and when I don’t hear it I look back to the sky. The rain has stopped now.

A droplet drips down from the building above, landing on my nose.

Neuvillette’s body shakes, and I return my gaze to him. 

He pulls me close as laughter racks his body. This is the first time I’ve ever heard him laugh so brazenly; I’d be a fool not to join in.

It takes a long time for our laughter to die down, but once it does Neuvillette speaks. His words, “The people of Fontaine are innocent. Through the time I have spent by your side, it was easy to determine that you share a similar verdict, Name.”

I avoid gazing into his eyes for the duration of our conversation, lest he notice my fairly obvious lovestruck gaze.

 

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

He takes a step closer, and I take a step back.

My heartbeat is loud in my ears; roaring louder than an obnoxious car engine as it speeds down the highway. 

He mimics every move I make; for every step back I take, he takes a step forward. This continues until I’m left with nowhere to retreat, back pressed firmly against the wall behind me. 

He takes his time approaching me as my eyes anxiously dart every which way. His office looks the same as I remember it, except…

My mind registers the flower crown on his desk, beside the pile of paperwork that he just finished. 

He kept it?

My thoughts are brought back to him when he’s standing before me, blocking my view of everything else that isn’t him. “Name, could you please repeat what you just said?” I swallow the lump in my throat. He sounds angry. Livid, even. All I did was make a joke about myself..

“I said that, uh, I’m sorry for ruining your image. Being seen with me must not be a good look for you, being the Iudex of Fontaine, and then I said my feelings for you were stupid–” He doesn’t let me finish, slamming his hands on either side of my head. 

SLAM!

I jump. 

I feel small between his arms and his imposing figure in front of me. It’s difficult, but I manage to maintain eye contact with him. The emotion in his eyes reflects a raging tsunami, oppressive with a dangerous glint that’d make anyone feel weak in the knees. My knees feel especially weak right now, being caged in like this. 

“The words you speak reek of lies. It’s a fabrication your mind has created to protect yourself.” His words are true and pierce through the walls I’ve been trying to maintain around my heart. “I don’t understand…” I whisper. 

another lie.

“What is it that you don’t understand?” His voice is low, and the words sound like a growl leaving his lips. “I.. don’t understand why someone- a being- like you, or how, you could possibly.. Return the feelings I harbor for you. You’re the Hydro Dragon after all, are you not? A respectable, prominent figure at that, whose company brings me pleasure and shines a light on my mundane everyday life. So, why, how is it possible that you… you said you…” I struggle to finish my statement, but he waits for me patiently.

“...You said you feel the same, but I don’t understand how you possibly…” He clicks his tongue, clearly aggravated. I don’t believe he’s aggravated with me, rather more, with what I have said. 

He closes his eyes. It’s almost as if I can see the gears turning in his head; he’s figuring out what he wants to say in response to my absurd claim, as he previously called it..

His eyes slowly open, and ardent determination is evident within his burning iris���. His next words stun me into complete silence, absolutely enraptured with the overflowing emotion seeping from his words. 

“Honestly Name, I’m trying to comprehend how you haven’t determined this for yourself, but it is alright. I will make things clear for you now, Celestia and the Heavenly Principles be damned; I yearn for you like a traveler yearns for a haven, a place of respite for their weary soul. My heart aches to feel the weight of your hand in mine. It longs to memorize every ridge of your palm, admire every dip and curve of your body, outline any and every beautiful scar that embellishes your natural beauty. So I’ll be damned if I allow you to stand before me belittling yourself when we are both aware that your words hold no significance; the truth of the matter lies in the longing gaze you’re giving me now. It lies in the quick withdrawal of your hand whenever mine ‘accidentally’ brushes against yours. It lies in precious tears upon your lashes, as you try to conceal your feelings for me. It…” His powerful words lose momentum as said tears escape the confines of my lashes, painting the planes of my face as they drip down at a leisurely pace. 

He lifts a gloved hand to wipe them away, before he pulls it back in a moment of uncertainty. I watch, beguiled, as he removes his gloves before reaching for my cheek, thumb tenderly caressing my tear stained cheeks. 

A strangled sob threatens to escape my lips, so he leans in, unhurried and deliberate with every movement he makes.

His lips brush against my own, yet they hover mere millimeters from pressing firmly against my keen lips. “May I?” His question is simple in nature, yet the implications of his words hold so much weight it threatens to suffocate you. It’s all you’ve wanted, truly, yet you find yourself in a daze. 

He waits. Patiently.

I close my eyes and breathe, and he breathes with me. 

So when I open my eyes once more, my answer is resolute, unyielding, in its truthfulness and authenticity. 

“Yes.”

I can feel his breathing speed up, as little puffs of air tickle my face. His hands feel softer than I’d imagined, as they rest upon my cheeks. 

His tentative lips eradicate the irksome space that previously separated us. I smile into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. It doesn’t take long for the both of us to feel comfortable. Our lips part, only to seek the warmth of the other’s once more. This time, it’s Neuvillette who smiles as we kiss.

His lips eagerly taste mine as we explore each other. His hands move from my face to brush against my sides, stopping at the hips. They reside there, pulling me closer. A sweet hum reaches my ears, emitted from deep within his chest. 

Joy bubbles up from within as our kiss comes to a natural conclusion; Neuvillette pulls back to provide me an opportunity to breathe.

I feel warm all over as I study his smokey gaze. He’s breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. My palpitating heart can’t take much more of this. 

Yet, I verbalize no objections as he languidly captures my lips once again. He’s impatient now; his hungry lips seek to claim every aspect of me, mind, body and soul. His lips easily devour mine, his tongue, which sought entrance moments before, now laps against my own. 

A shiver racks my body as the warmth flooding my body threatens to be my demise. My hands seek purchase on his shoulder, pressing into his shoulder blades. I’m astonished by the passion within Neuvillette’s tender, yet heated embrace. 

I have to pull away, lest I be swept up in his treacherous waves. A wistful sigh escapes his parted lips as he rests his forehead against my own. I gasp for air; He stole my breath away, just as the mighty waves of the sea indiscriminately rob many of their ability to breath, resulting in futile attempts to resurface.

 I require more time than I’d like to admit to catch my breath. 

“So.. does this mean you like me or?” My joke does not go unrewarded. His unamused look drives me into a fit of giggles. 

Love washes over me, like a gentle caress, when he joins in.

I admire his unabashed laughter as his thumb rubs soothing circles on my hip. 

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

Distinct giggles can be heard from the other side of the door.

Neuvillette sighs.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, meanwhile my chest rapidly rises and falls in mirth.

“Do not encourage them.” He groans.

I overhear Sedene tell the other Melusine of the sight she was met with earlier this evening, as Neuvillette and I walked into his office hand in hand, and the girls gathered around her squeal with glee.

I peeked out of Neuvillette’s office a few moments ago, and my eyes were met with the adorable sight of a group of Melusine gathered around Sedene as if it were story time. 

Now, I rest my head on Neuvillette’s shoulder as he signs the last document of the evening.

“Oh dear. I worry they’ll continue to discuss this for many days to come.” I can only smile as his face is colored with endearment; his eyes soften and he fails to stifle a smile.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that. They’re having fun, and they care dearly for you, Neuvillette..” “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.” His retort leaves me feeling confused, but he only reaches for my hand.

I watch as he plays with my fingers, humming a tune to himself. “Dear, they have come to care deeply for you as well. Do you not notice the way Sedene’s eyes light up whenever you speak with her? Or how Kiara always runs in your direction the moment she spots you? Or, how about when– mmph!” The rest of his words are muffled behind my hands, pressed firmly to his mouth.

I can feel the grin he’s making.

“Okay okay, point taken.” I grumble, removing my hands.

My heart flutters when he sends a wink my way. 

He turns his attention back to the signed document on his desk, moving it to the finished pile. “Speaking of caring deeply for someone… Name, I have something I wish to tell you.” 

“Should the day ever come where you choose to remain by my side, I shall reveal something I know will be of interest to you.” I’m sure my face looks as astonished as I feel, because Neuvillette simply laughs, running his thumb along my bottom lip.

“Now now, there’s no need to make such a face.” “What are you talking about? Reveal.. What?” He only closes his eyes, emitting a quiet hum.

“My name, of course.” 

My entire body stills as the gears turn in my head.

“Wait, so Neuvillette isn’t..” His eyes compel me, keeping mine locked with his as they open once more. A deep emotion lies within them, granting me a glimpse of the altruistic soul within. 

“I have always asked citizens to refer to me by my last name.” His words make sense, and with the knowledge I have of him, he is one to keep people at a polite distance. Still… It's a bit shocking.

Even so, I have no qualms with this arrangement.

“It’s a deal, I’ll patiently wait for the day you tell me your name. ..First name, I mean.” There’s a glint in his eyes that reflects pleasant surprise, albeit there’s a hint of a challenge that resides within them.

“Oh? You sound confident. Not that I’m opposed, that is the ideal outcome I desire for our relationship.” I smile, placing my fingers under his chin as I lean in for a kiss.

He smiles as our lips embrace each other, placing his hands firmly against my back.

I had every right to feel confident; after all, I finally was able to witness Neuvillette on his knees, ring in hand as his loving gaze threatened to break the dam I was avidly struggling to hold back.

My eyes glisten with unshed tears as I join him on the ground. I practically throw myself onto him as I embrace him, and his carefree laugh is an alluring melody to my ears. He leisurely slips the ring onto my finger, pulling back so he can properly face me.

“Now, are you ready for me to consummate our arrangement?” My head bobs up and down so fast that I make myself a bit dizzy.

Warmth gives Neuvillette’s features an almost angelic glow as a delicate finger, free from the confines of his gloves, brushes along my cheek. 

“Hmm…” He stalls.

I pout. He beams.

“Alright, alright. I will leave you in suspense no longer. My name is…”

⋆｡𖦹 ° ♡⸝⸝ ✧˖

Likes, Comments, & Reblogs are appreciated !!

[forever-rogue]

i’m in real missing peter hours 😔 could we maybe get a tasm!peter/blackcat!reader in the future where he’s starting to get over gwen? hints of angst but he’s mainly just avoiding his real feelings and reader is the distraction. probably smut but you’re the author so you can do whatever your heart desires. hugs and kisses hope you’re well!!

AN | Blind fools in lust and  love! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language, Smut [piv] - 18+ only

Word Count | 4.7k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Nope,” you grabbed his arm and pulled him along as best as you could. You managed to at least get him out of harm’s way, “not today. The Spider’s mine!”

The big white eyes of the mask blinked at you a few times and you knew, despite not even seeing his face, that he might have a concussion or at least took a good hit to the head. With a groan, you crouched next to him and put your hand on his cheek, “wha-whas goin’ on?”

“Stay here,” you kept your voice soft but firm, “please listen to me for once in your life, Spidey.”

You left him before he even realized what had happened, hoping that he’d actually wait for you under the little bit of cover you managed to get for him. 

The last thing he remembered was watching you walk away.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter’s eyes fluttered open slowly as he rolled onto his side, hissing at the sharp, shooting pain. He took a moment to study his surroundings and realized he wasn’t in his bedroom. Not unless he’d decided to change it up into pinks and pastels and to be very aesthetic as MJ would say. He sat up and rubbed at his tired eyes, trying to remember what happened.

“Hey,” at the sound of your voice he stiffened, looking up to find sitting at your desk across the room, “take it easy, Parker. You took quite a beating yesterday.”

“You…saved me,” he whispered incredulously as you waved your hand to dismiss his surprise, “why?”

“Because Peter Parker,” you walked over to the bed and sat at the edge of it, keeping a small distance between your bodies, “if anyone’s going to kill you, it’s going to be me. And, well, I guess you could say I’d grown fond of you over the years.”

He leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms over his chest, “the Black Cat has a heart after all. Funny, especially for a criminal.”

“I’ve always had a heart,” you put your hand on his calf and gave it a gentle squeeze, “and I’m hardly a criminal - I…confiscate things from rich individuals that don't deserve them and redistribute the wealth.”

“According to the law, that's still criminal.”

“We both know you’re never going to do anything about it,” you leaned in closer, keeping your face a few inches from his. He was somehow even prettier up close; golden flecks in his eyes and the faintest of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and very kissable lips, “are you, Spidey?”

He reached for you, hands settling on your waist as he easily maneuvered you into his lap. You made a small sound of surprise but put your hands on his shoulders, eyes locked on his, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind.

“What do you think?” he brought his hand to your face and brushed his knuckles over your cheek. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch. You’d been playing your little cat and mouse (or rather cat and spider) game for so long now that somewhere along you had developed genuine feelings for him. If something were to happen to him, you weren’t sure what you’d do, “hmm?”

You took his face in your hands and kissed him without hesitation. If you had thought about it too much you’d never get the nerve to actually kiss him. And you’d been wanting to do that for a long time now, you’d thought about it a million times probably.

When he didn’t kiss you back for a moment you worried you’d overstepped, but then he pulled you closer to his body, kissing you back just as eagerly. His hands wandered under your shirt, splaying over your ribs, causing you to make a pretty sound into his mouth. You refused to pull away until you were desperate for air, the two of you exchanging almost shy smiles. You pressed your forehead to his as you tried to catch your breath, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” he promised, tugging on the hem of your shirt in a silent question of whether or not he could remove it. You nodded and held up your arms to make it easier for him to take off, “I heal fast.”

“Promise?” you asked as he marveled at the sight of you in your bra. 

“Promise,” he went back to kissing you, hands roaming all over your bare skin as if he was trying to commit everything to memory, “you’re beautiful.”

The words, whispered soft but loud and clear, made a shiver run up and down your spine. You leaned into his touch as he unclasped the back of your bra, eagerly pulling it down your arms and tossing it to the side. You swore there was a hint of a bubblegum blush spreading across his cheeks as he looked you over with eager eyes. 

“Your turn,” you tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and he practically ripped it off in one fluid motion. You studied the golden skin that was revealed, admiring how broad and strong he looked. There were freckles scattered across his skin…along with a lot of bruising and some lacerations. A frown tugged down the corners of your mouth as you ghosted your fingers along his side, “Pete…”

“It’s okay,” he kissed along your jaw, working his way down your neck, nipping and biting at the skin just enough to some pretty lavender bruises, “they’ll be gone by the morning. You won’t hurt me.”

You took his pretty face in your eyes, looking into his eyes to make sure he was being completely honest with you. When you were satisfied that he was telling the truth, you kissed him slowly and deeply, trying to get as much from him as possible. You could feel that he was already hard as you slowly ground your hips into him, pulling some moans from his lips.

He quickly flipped you so you were under him, caged in by strong arms and overwhelmed with all of him. You practically melted into the bed as he kissed his way down your body, worshiping the soft and hard lines of your frame, even the areas you were insecure about. He stopped at the waistband of your shorts, catching your eye to make sure it was okay to take them off. At your enthusiastic nod, his lithe fingers easily whipped off your shorts and tossed them into the pile with the rest of your clothes. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” his gentle praise was enough to make you even more wet, “can I taste you?”

“As much as I want that Parker,” you slowly sat up, leaving him with a disappointed look on his face, “I need to feel you. Want you inside of me.”

You took advantage of his momentary surprise and flipped the script, pinning him under you as you straddled his hips. Those pretty brown eyes were almost black with lust as he looked up at you in wonder.

“Is this okay?” you tugged on the hem of his pants and he started to push them down his strong legs without any ado, “oh. I see it’s very okay.”

“Thought about this a lot, you know?” you most definitely knew. You’ve pictured this very moment more than you’d cared to admit. You watched as he stroked his hard cock, amazed - and mildly worried - about his size. A smirk grew on his face as he reached between your legs and scooped some of your slick onto his fingers before wrapping his hand around himself again, laying back and stroking his hard cock, “you’re going to feel so good, I just know it.”

“For the sake of science, why don’t we find out?” you shoved his hands out of the way, and took his cock in your hand, stroking him a few times before lining him up at our entrance and slowly sinking down on him. You couldn’t help the lewd moan that escaped your lips at the stretch as he filled you up. Peter’s hands were on your hips, fingers digging in tightly, sure to leave bruises, but you didn’t care, “well, Spidey? Everything you dreamed of and more?”

“Fuck,” he hissed quietly under his breath, closing his eyes and biting his lip almost hard enough to break the skin, “you feel so perfect.”

“You feel pretty good too,” you leaned down to kiss him, moving slightly and pulling an almost pathetic whimper from his lips.

“You keep moving like that and I’m not going to last long,” his hands went to your ass, greedily squeezing your soft, plump flesh, “this is ever better anything I ever imagined.”

“Lucky for you, I’m up for multiple rounds,” you started to move up and down his cock, kissing whatever parts of him that you could reach, his skin was soft and delicious. You knew that you weren’t going to last much longer either, but you’d take him however he wanted, “if you are.”

“Yes,” he started to slam up into you, causing you to gasp at the feeling and display of strength, “you’re mine.”

Yeah…he was definitely making you feel some kind of way with his possessiveness. You knew it partly just from the moment, but you didn’t mind. He took back a little bit of the power he’d let you have, thrusting into you over and over, “you can cum in me, you know. I’m on the pill.”

“You’re just a fucking tease,” and he wasn’t having it any longer, flipping you back under him and pounding you in mercilessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist and let him take what he needed, “for years now.”

“Didn’t know you wanted me for that long,” your heart started to race, not just from the pounding he was giving you, but his surprisingly sweet sentiment. You’d thought about him too, but had never thought he’d actually reciprocate those feelings, “you’re such a softy, Peter Parker.”

He laughed at that, a sweet sound that you wanted to bottle up and keep forever, “we’ve all got some soft spots.”

“I’m honored,” your words were swallowed up by a moan as he reached down where your bodies connected and played with your clit. You closed your eyes as you felt the heat bloom in your core, “fuck, yes Peter. Just like that.”

“Good girl,” alrighty, apparently you’d had some sort of praise kink that he’d managed to tap into. He kept one hand on your hip and the other was massaging your breasts, “look at you, so pretty.”

“S’are you,” you managed to choke out as his thrusts started to grow more erratic and sloppy, “gonna fill me up?”

“Shit,” he groaned as he felt your velvety walls start to hug him even more tightly. It was like the sweetest vice grip. Your release came on faster than you’d expected and you felt that rush buzzing through your entire body as you became jelly under him. He managed to thrust into you a few more times before he came, spilling deep within you and almost collapsing on top of you, “holy fuck. Fuck.”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you, using his warm body as a blanket. You both tried to catch your breath, his head on your chest as he pressed kisses to your shoulder. You ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to process what had just happened, “I’m not going to lie, Pete, having sex with you wasn’t on my bingo card for today…or ever.”

“Oh it was definitely on mine,” he lifted his face and grinned at you, the true dork he was underneath it all was showing through, “you’re beautiful, you know?”

“You might have mentioned that a few times,” you pressed a kiss to his lips, “you’re not so bad yourself.” 

“Hmm,” he reached for your hand and laced your fingers together, “whatever you say, honey. Give me another few minutes and we can go again.”

“Okay,” you agreed through a small yawn, “can we just lay here for a little bit first?”

“Yeah,” he rolled off you and onto his side, pulling you into his body and wrapping an arm around you, “that sounds perfect.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d been seeing Peter - more or less - for almost six months at this point. Usually it involved a late night text from him asking if you were free, the guise of attempting to watch a movie or eat dinner, and then ended in sex. Not that the sex was bad or anything, it was mind-blowing, but that was the problem in and of itself. 

You really liked Peter, and your feelings only seemed to blossom with the more time you spent together. You didn’t just want him for the sex, you wanted to experience everything with him. It was almost scary how easy it was to fall for him, but it happened and now you were left with more emotions and feelings than you’d ever intended on having. The worst part was that you were almost positive that Peter didn’t feel the same way. You’d tried to convince yourself that nights spent together were enough; some nights it worked and other nights it hurt even more to watch him go. 

This was bad; you hadn’t meant to fall for your former arch-nemesis. In an effort to preserve your sanity, you made the decision that it was time to start distancing yourself from Peter. You’d stopped responding to his texts, slowly at first and then pretty much entirely and if you knew that he was going to be in a particular place, you avoided that place as well. 

You had no clue what his current feelings were or if he’d even noticed your lack of communication. Your hope was that maybe he wouldn’t even realize anything was different and things would go back to how they used to be. 

But - and you were well aware of this little fact - Peter Parker was a genius and things rarely went unnoticed. 

It shouldn’t have surprised you at all to find him tapping on your bedroom window. You hadn’t heard him and startled jumped slightly at the rhythmic taps. You looked over and found him waving meekly. Despite your best judgment, you closed your laptop and walked over to the window, unlocking it so he could come in. 

He hopped in, landing on his lithe feet and pulling off his mask. Peter turned to you and leaned in to kiss you, but you stopped him, putting your hand on his chest and gently pushing him back. His brows furrowed as he looked at you with a pouty expression.

“The window was locked,” he mused as you took a step back from him and crossed your arms over your chest, “you’ve been ignoring me. And now you don’t want me to touch you. Oh honey, what’s going on, huh?”

“Pete,” you sighed heavily, “I can’t…I, fuck. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” he huffed, almost in amusement as his hands settled on his hips, “what are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to keep hooking up with you,” you groaned as you pushed past him and headed towards the kitchen. This definitely called for a glass of wine, if not something stronger. Peter trailed after you, a string of incomprehensible murmurs escaping his lips. You grabbed the wine and a glass and dumped out a hearty pour before turning to Peter, “do you want some wine?”

“How can you-” he sighed before coming into your space, caging you in between his arms against the counter, “I don’t want wine.”

“Oh,” you brought the glass to your lips and took a dainty sip before he took the glass out of your hand and set it onto the counter, “shame, it’s really good. Nicked it from some millionaire’s stash.”

“What’s going on, huh?” he took your jaw in his hand and turned your face up to his. If you weren’t experiencing a million other emotions, you definitely would have been turned on, “tell me.”

“Peter,” your voice softened as you allowed yourself to meet his soft, dark doe eyes, “I think we should stop whatever you want to call what we’ve been doing.”’

“Why?” his eyes were inquisitive but the harsh edge had started to disappear, “I thought we were having fun.”

“We were,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and gently pulled his hand away, “but it’s not enough for me. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I realized that I want…more. I don’t just want to hook up and then have you leave in the middle of the night. I’m sorry, Pete, but that’s the truth.”

“What happened?”

“I think that I realized I have feelings for you,” you looked away, closing your eyes to stop the tears from spilling over, “I didn’t think this would happen but there it is. I really care about you and I want more but I know you don’t want more. And maybe it’s selfish but I’d rather just stop now before I get even more feelings.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shaking his head, “I thought you said you were okay with this, with how we had things.”

“It was fine at first,” you shrugged lightly, “and then it slowly changed. And now I’m telling you. So…yeah.”

“You know I don’t do relationships,” he took a step back and you felt like you could breathe again. But you could tell that things had definitely and inexplicably shifted between the two of you, “I can’t do relationships.”

“It’s not my place to tell you what you do or don’t want,” you swallowed thickly, “I’m just telling you how I feel and what I want. Nothing is going to change the fact that I care about you, Parker. I hope you know that it's okay to care for people and let them care about you. You’re allowed to be happy. Gwen-”

“Don’t,” he took a big step and held up his hand. You’d touched on a nerve - and you knew you would - but it was the truth. It had been almost ten years since he’d lost her and you knew that he wasn’t over what happened. Not that you expected him to just be over it; he never would be entirely and he’d always love her. You respected the hell out of that, but at the same time you wished he would understand that it was okay to love again, “don’t you dare talk about her.”

“I won’t,” you whispered, “I would never disrespect her and I’d hope you know that by now. And you should know that I respect you and your feelings. And I think I deserve the same from you. And right now I think it’s best if you leave. I don’t know if we’re ever going to see eye to eye on this so we should just stop.”

He closed his eyes before running a hand through his messy hair, “you want me to just leave?”

“Of course I don’t,” you insisted, “but we don’t want the same things. So, let’s just cut our losses and move on.”

“Fine,” he pulled the mask back over his face, wanting anything but to look you directly in the face. You chewed on your lip, something that drove Peter crazy. Today you were driving him crazy in an entirely different way, “fine. I’ll go.”

“I am sorry,” he hated how upset you sounded. He hated that he was the cause of your heart even more, “for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, already sliding your window open again, “me too.”

Without any further preamble, he jumped back out in the dark night, leaving before you even got the chance to close the window. He didn’t think he could bear looking at you again - not if he wanted to stick with his plan of detachment. He thought he was stronger than he apparently was. 

He was weak-willed and pathetic in his mind, especially because he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t fall in love again. 

You watched his figure swing away until the red and blue of his suit was out of sight before closing the windows with a heavy sigh. You missed him already.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been four weeks - four whole weeks - since Peter had last seen you. 30-days to be exact - not that he was counting or anything. But, to put it lightly, it fucking sucked. He missed you terribly. 

He wasn’t exactly sure where along the line he’d fallen in love with you, but he had been so sure that just ignoring his feelings would work. But he should have known better…after all, when did ignoring a problem ever actually solve it? Never. And this case was no exception. 

“Are you…ever planning on not moping around all the time?” Peter’s eyes snapped to Miles so fast that the younger boy laughed nervously. Here he was, thinking the whole time that he was acting normal. But apparently he had been anything but. 

“I’m not - I am not moping,” Peter hissed, trying to convince himself as much as Miles. When he realized that he definitely wasn’t going to be able to, his shoulders sagged and he let out a slow exhale, “fine. I guess I am. Sorry, I just…it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“That’s exactly what someone very not fine would say,” Miles walked around the table, studying some of the blueprints that Peter had drawn for some new gadgets. He felt his mentor’s eyes glued to him, “‘m just saying.”

“Miles…”

“Is it a girl? Are you in love? Is Petey experiencing lots of big feelings?”

“I swear I will take away all of your Spider privileges,” Miles snorted in amusement knowing fulwell that there wasn’t a damn thing that Peter could do, “fine, I’ll do something!”

“You could try to talk about it?” he suggested lightly, toeing the line and leaving just enough room for Peter to make whatever decisions he wanted to, “if you want to. No pressure, but I’m here if you need someone to word vomit to. Spider-Man to Spider-Man.”

“It’s a long story,” but maybe it would feel good to let it all out. Maybe he really just needed to talk it out with someone. It could feel great…it could also feel terrible. 

“I’ve got time,” Miles hopped up and sat on the table, swinging his long legs back and forth, “if you’ve got the time.”

“Yeah,” Peter mirrored his actions and sat down next to the boy, “I do.”

Peter wasn’t sure where he should have started at first, so he started at the beginning, with Gwen. It had been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone about everything that had happened. Maybe he’d just been waiting for the people to come into his life and make him feel safe again; Miles did that, you did that.

And while it was incredibly scary, he knew that it was just a small leap of faith.

But this time around, he wasn’t afraid to jump.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite not having heard those familiar taps for weeks, as soon as you heard them, your heart skipped a few beats. With slight trepidation you padded your slippered feet over to your bedroom window. 

Just as expected, there was Spider-Man sitting on your fire escape. He perked up when he realized you were coming over, waiting with bated breath to see if you'd even open the window.

"Spidey," you leaned on the window, resting your chin in your hand as you looked him over, "what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," if you didn't know any better, you'd have thought he sounded nervous, "can we talk?"

"Peter," you let out a long sigh before shaking your head and moving to close the window again. Peter was quicker and managed to web your hand before you could literally and metaphorically shut him out, "why?"

"Please?" The desperation in his voice was clear now and it made your iced over heart thaw just a little bit. You managed to unstick your hand before stepping back and waiting for him to come in. Peter’s nerves seemed to get the better of him as he almost tripped and stumbled over his own feet. You couldn’t help the small smile that managed to cross your features at the sight of the clumsy boy. He stood back up and ripped his mask off before looking at you nervously, “h-hi.”

“Hello Peter,” despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but touch his face, lightly tracing your fingers over the bruising along his jaw with a deep frown. He stiffened under your touch before wrapping his fingers gently around your wrist, “what’s going on, bub?”

“I’m an idiot,” his admission sounded almost pathetic as you cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow, “and a moron.”

“I’m well aware,” you pulled your hand out of his touch, causing a wicked blush to color his cheeks, “but that doesn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

“I’m been thinking-”

“Oh dear…”

“And I realized you were right. Well, I talked to Miles, did a lot of thinking and self-reflection or whatever it’s called. And yeah…you were right,” that caused you to stop with your mouth open before blinking at him several times, “about what you’d said.”

“I’m usually right,” why were you suddenly nervous? You waved your hand around dismissively before crossing your arms over your chest, “what - what was I right about?”

“I was - am - scared about being in a relationship again,” the boy swallowed the lump in his throat, finding it hard to put exactly what he was feeling into words, “I’m scared what it could mean if I loved someone again.”

“It’s always going to be a little scary, Pete,” you whispered softly, “loving someone and letting them love you is the most vulnerable thing anyone can do. But that doesn’t mean we should completely stop ourselves from experiencing it.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyes still intently trained on your carpet, “I realize that now. I, ummm, I-”

You couldn’t stand it any longer, and grabbed his face, pressing your lips to his. It took Peter a moment to catch onto what was happening, but as soon as clarity hit him, he kissed you right back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his body. Neither of you wanted to pull apart until you were desperate for a breath of air. 

He pressed his forehead against yours before closing his eyes and sighing softly, “I, ugh, I have feelings for you too.”

“Yeah?” your simple question was so sweet and innocent that he couldn’t help but kiss you again, “but do you…want more?”

“I do,” he confessed, finding the simple revelation both freeing and nerve wracking, “I’m not sure I’ll make the best boyfriend but I’m willing to try. I-if you still want that anyway.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think I’d be the most conventional girlfriend,” this wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured this scenario in your mind - any of the many times you’d imagined. But it was still perfect in its own way because it was you and Peter, “but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he promised; you knew he meant it this time, “sorry for being an idiot and taking so long to realize the obvious.”

“You got there in the end,” you couldn’t help but pull him back to your lips, breaking into laughter as he effortlessly picked you up and started walking over to your bed, “wait - you’re really sure about this, Parker?”

“Yes,” he promised, peppering your face in kisses, “I’m all in. Are you?”

“I am,” you whispered, “all in.”

[phoenix-bleh]

Hi, I have an idea related to the sequel to this Naga Shadow Milk cookie

Please🙂😐

Here is the plot :

After the T/N Cookie She faints after a while and wakes up in wrapped rings. T/N Cookie tried to get out, but failed, after which the Naga Shadow Milk cookie appears and crawls towards her. Naga Shadow Milk cookie comes up and says that she believed it, but she refuses it. Naga Shadow Milk Cookie then takes her hand to her face to look into his hypnosis eyes and starts singing "Trust in me" for her to trust him. Whereupon T/N Cookie looked at his hypnotic eyes and sees a shade of light blue and blue, after which the Naga Shadow Milk cookie beckons T/N Cookie to the Naga Shadow Milk cookie.

warnings: kidnapping

Part 1

You slowly open your eyes however your vision is kind of blurry so you wait for it to focus. Didn’t help much when it did because everything was still dark. You felt a pain in your head and went to go reach it but you couldn’t, you looked down and realized you were tied up. You started panicking and to struggle out of your restraints, you tried to remember how you possibly could have ended up here.

You couldn’t figure it out until a figure started crawling towards you, you never been so scared in your entire life. You tried struggling more or at least tried scooting back a bit away from whatever that thing was. You could finally see a bit in the dark and the figure stopped right in front of you looming over you a bit. You could slightly see him; it was enough to realize who he was. All your memories started flowing back to you.

He was that half snake half cookie you encountered before you passed out. He was most likely the cause of why you were tied up here. “What do you want from me!!” You yelled at it. He only smiled at you and leaned down to eye level with you. “Silly two legged cookie I only brought you here to be a companion, simple as that, the best you can do is trust me.” You scoffed at him not believing in a word he said, how could you? He literally kidnapped you, talk about a great first impression.

“Ugh like I’d believe that!” You glared at him but he showed no reaction. He just stood there with no reaction “I suggest you let me go right now I have no interest in being your companion-” Before you could finish your sentence he grabbed your face and made you stare at him. You knew exactly what he was trying to do so you shut your eyes and tried to look away. Then you heard him sing something. You don’t know why but you slowly start to open your eyes, it was as if his song was controlling you.

He forced your face to look into his eyes again. This time you didn’t try to struggle as much. He was beckoning you and you didn’t have control of your own mind anymore. You decided it was best for you to just trust him so you let him finish his song.

You don’t remember much after but hey at least you have a new companion.

yippee!    

[doggone-devil]

How (Not) to Summon a Demon: Chapter 3

So this one is a bit longer than I meant it to go, and I still had more to write. But to keep it from getting too long, I'm cutting it here and will continue in Chapter 4. This is going to be a bit of a slow build story, but hopefully not too long. I'm aiming for at least 10 chapters.

Pairing: Alastor x fem!Reader

Warnings: profanity, light threatening?

Normal people woke up from nightmares and were able to laugh them off as they start to recede to the back of their minds, forgotten within the hour as they go about their day. You, on the other hand, had your nightmare staring at you with a giant smile spread across their face.

Sitting on your bed, your knees drawn close to you for safety, you watch the demon currently standing in your room with wide, cautious eyes. He didn’t seem phased one bit, tilting his head every so slightly when you jumped, seeming amused at your reactions. It was starting to piss you off but fear held strong, keeping you from moving any closer to him.

“So,” you finally speak, jumping again when he straightens up to attention. “What do I have to do to make you leave?” It’s a reasonable question, you think, but the demon seems to be annoyed as his brows draw together. The smile stays and it creeps you out.

“My dear, I can not leave once our contract is fulfilled,” he explains, closing his eyes. “You see, when you summoned me, an agreement was formed. One that can not be unbroken by any means.” He opens his eyes, the red orbs staring straight through you, bringing a chill up your spine. “I grant you one wish, a desire that you so desperately want, and in return, I claim your soul for all eternity.”

“My soul,” you repeat. He nods. “For eternity.” Another nod. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”

“What?” His smile seems to falter every so slightly, twitching as you see blackened gums peek out.

“Not gonna happen. One wish for my soul? Doesn’t matter what I want, whatever it is can’t be worth my soul.” You scoot back on the bed when the demon suddenly takes a step forward. He doesn’t stop until he’s at the edge of your bed, power radiating off him in waves. It’s making you nauseous and dizzy.

“I don’t think you quite understand the predicament you’re in, darling,” he growls the last word, his voice deep and laced with harsh static. “If you don’t make a wish, I can’t leave.”

“Ok, then we’re at an impasse. Because I don’t want to lose my soul.”

“I -“ he pauses, taking a deep breath before regaining his composure. The smile is back to being stretched wide, pointy teeth almost like a threat towards you. “Surely there is something in this world you desire more than your soul. Fame? Fortune? Good health?”

You deadpan at him. “I don’t want to be famous, I can gain money on my own, and I can be healthy on my own.” You’re starting to relax every so slightly. The more this demon talks, the less you feel scared of him. His movements and actions are too human, even if his appearance isn’t, and in some twisted way that’s making your interaction with him feel normal.

“Look,” you start to say, turning to sit on the edge of your bed, “the only wish I’d wish for is that you leave and go back to wherever it is you came from. Yet even for that, I’m not selling my soul over so get comfy demon boy. You’re stuck here.” You stand and start to leave your room, but he grabs your wrist, twisting hard to make you face him. You wince at the pain that shoots up your arm.

“You know,” he glances down at you, smile turning sinister and dark, “perhaps your friend from earlier could help persuade you into making a wish.” Your eyes widen before anger takes hold.

“You wouldn’t,” you whisper. His smile growls, eyes forming into dials.

“Try me, darling.” It’s not a threat, but a warning. A promise. You know it, can feel it in your core. He’s not playing around. Tears start to form and you try to blink them away.

“I-I don’t want to give up my soul,” you sob out, knees giving out as you fall to the floor. He’s still holding your wrist, your arm dangling in his grip. All those horror movies you’ve watched in your life are flooding through to your thoughts, scenes of damned souls, of eternal fire burning away flesh in Hell. Demonic entities prodding and poking with sharp objects, torturing endlessly without mercy. Your breath quickens, your chest pounding as you begin to cough.

“Now, now, no need to panic,” the demon says softly. Shocked, you watch him kneel down to your level, pulling a handkerchief from inside his coat. He lets go of your wrist and begins to dab your cheeks, drying off the tears that have spilt over. It’s…surprisingly gentle. He speaks up again, “Would it help if I explain things a little better?” You nod weakly, your head too torn from reality at the moment to form coherent words. Your still trying to grasp the concept that, yes, demons exist and, yes, there is a Hell. This means Heaven is real, angels, and even God. Oh God. That last fact almost sends you spiraling again, your legs wobbling when you feel him lift you off the floor.

You’re back on your bed, your shoulders hunched as you stare at the floor. God is real. You weren’t really a believe, never have been. An atheist, firm in science and facts, but now God has become one. Because if this thing before you is truly a demon, then it came from Hell which has a ruler, Satan. Who did Satan come from? God. You’re so fucked.

“Darling?” You snap up, the demon’s words finally registering. “It’s rude not to listen when people are speaking to you.”

“Sorry,” you automatically apologize. It gets a quick chuckle from the demon.

“You are becoming a strange creature, mortal. Nevertheless, I told you I’d explain things better and that is just what I’m going to do. Now, where to begin? Ah, yes!” He starts to explain the mechanics of Hell, of sinners and overlords. He even tells you about the devil, Lucifer, and his daughter, Charlie. This leads down a path of him telling you about some hotel for redemption, a silly idea if you ask him, truly humorous. Next, he explains how, yes, there is a heaven and tells you what little he knows about angels. You’re starting to realize that Hell isn’t all that different from Earth, just filled with bad people instead.

You feel reality come back down for you as you take in this new information. The world doesn’t seem so off balance anymore, and from what you could tell, it seems your past actions were leading you to be a sinner anyways. While you weren’t exactly hell spawn from birth, you weren’t miss goody-two-shoes either. You’re pretty sure you’ve done a lot of things the Bible strictly says not to.

“So, wait, when I die, I might just ‘pop’ into existence there like I never died in the first place?”

“Oh no, you’ll fall. Hurts like Hell,” the demon corrects, laughing at a bit at his own pun. You roll your eyes, spotting closer to him. You don’t know when it happened, but you’re sitting criss-crossed on your bed facing the demon who mirrors you. His head is in his palms, elbows propped on his knees. You feel like you’re in high school all over again, gossiping the latest news. It’s weird.

“Will I have like horns, a tail, and leathery wings?” You nearly snort when Alastor mimicking your eye rolling.

“Do you see any of those on me?” he asks and you study his features. His hair is bright red with black tipped ends. Two tufts of, hair? Ears? You’re not sure what they are but they twitch every so often. You notice he does have horns but they’re kind of like antlers, like a - you gasp.

“Are you a deer?” you ask, eyes lighting up. You unconsciously lean forward, making the demon lean back.

“Regrettably.” He quirks a brow at you and you apologize, moving out of his bubble. Geez, what is wrong with you? This is becoming too normal, too fast. You still haven’t even gotten to the soul owning part.

“Ok, then, I have to know. If - and I’m saying a big if here - I wish for something and you take my soul, what happens?”

“When you make a wish,” he states with confidence, making you frown, “I will own your soul. Simple as that.”

“But what you do mean by own? I disappear and become a ghost in a jar? Are there puppet strings you attach to me and move me how you want? You gotta give me details here, man.”

“Nothing like that, my dear. You would be free to live your afterlife however you want, but you would be mine. You would be at my beck and call whenever I shall need you.”

“Oh.” You feel surprisingly ok with that and you don’t know if that should scare you or not. You shrug, however, standing up once more. “Well, I hate to disappoint you again, demon boy, but even if I make the wish, I have no idea what to wish for.” You actually make it out of your bedroom this time, walking to your kitchen. Afternoon light floods in from the windows, the morning gone as noon rolls through. You feel hungry with everything that’s happened so far and open your fridge to scavenge for sustenance.

“How about a new house?” the demon asks as he trails behind you, standing next to you while you rummage the shelves of the fridge. “Surely you want something bigger?”

You stand, holding a loaf of bread and a jar of mayonnaise. “Nope!” You shut the fridge and walk to a clear counter, setting down the ingredients for your poor-man’s sandwich. “I happen to like this dainty apartment, thank you.”

“Then how about a brand new vehicle? I’m sure any woman would be thrilled to have a cherry red Cord in their driveway!”

“Wrong again, Mr. Demon Boy. My yellow Volks gets me where I need to be just fine.” You bite your lip to keep from laughing, seeing the demon obviously getting upset next to you. His ears, as you’ve come to think of them, have laid backwards against his head. His eyes glare at you as you spread the mayo on the bread.

“My name is not ‘demon boy’.” He straightens his bow tie and wipes his coat. “The name’s Alastor, a pleasure to be meeting you!” Now you laugh.

“A bit late for introductions, ain’t it?”

Alastor looks offended. “Would have happened earlier had someone not fainted when meeting me.” You frown.

“I didn’t faint, I just…needed to rest a bit. It’s not like I’m used to having a literal demon appear in my apartment!” You angrily slam the lip back on the jar, returning the bread and condiment to the fridge. Alastor has to side step to keep from being barreled through by you.

You grab your sandwich, looking at him. Before you take a bite, you state your name. He repeats it and the way it rolls of his tongue should not be causing your cheeks to redden, if only a tiny bit. You blame the sunlight you feel coming from the kitchen window.

“I could give you anything in the entire world and yet you want nothing?” Alastor asks again with a defeated sigh. You nod, continuing to eat your sandwich. A thought then crosses your mind and you swallow.

“Actually, I got the perfect idea! How about I just wish for whatever my roommate wants?” Alastor shakes his head. “Why not?”

“The contract states it must be a wish granting your one desire. No one else’s. It’s your soul I’m claiming, after all, not your roommate’s.”

“That’s just dumb,” you remark, finishing your food. You huff and cross your arms. “I’m gonna need time.”

“Time for what?”

“To think of a wish, duh! If it’s gonna be worth my soul, then it’s gotta be big. I’m not wasting it on just any old wish.”

“How much time are we talking about here?” Alastor asks. His tense smile tells you he’s not liking the outcome of this situation. Tough luck. You’re playing by your rules now.

“I don’t know. It’s indefinite until I can think of something.” You shove off the counter you’re leaning against, walking to the living room. Alastor is right behind you.

“That’s not going to work for me, my dear,” he states. You turn around and have to stop to keep from bumping into his chest. You lift your head to stare at him.

“It’s going to have to, deer,” you grin. “You’re stuck with me until I make a wish, like or not.”

“I’m home!”

“Veronica!” You shout and suddenly, Alastor is on his ass behind the couch, your arms outstretched as you look at your roommate in panic. She’s eyeing you and the couch before she slowly shuts the door.

“Ok, as much as I know you want to pretend you didn’t just have someone standing there, I’m gonna need to know who it is you just unceremoniously pushed behind the couch,” Veronica says, shifting her weight to one leg as she places a hand on her hip. She’s full mom mode now, no use lying, but how were you going to explain a literal demon to her? Sure, it was her idea in the first place, but even she knew deep down it wasn’t real!

“Uh, I, well you see.” You’re fumbling with your words, trying desperately as you glance a look towards Alastor. The demon is glaring up at you like you just stepped on his new puppy, huffing a strand of loose hair from his face. You look back to Veronica who’s walking over to you. “Wait!” You move to stop her but it’s too late, she’s leaning over the back of the couch. You wait for the scream, to watch her flee out the door screaming bloody murder, but she doesn’t. She just looks at you like you’re an absolute idiot.

“I’m offended, I really am,” she says. “You attempted to hide this stud? Unbelievable.”

“Huh!?” You nearly break your back trying to climb over and look at Alastor. He’s suddenly human looking, the red hair and horns gone, replaced with short brown hair that’s gelled upward. His skin isn’t ashy pale but caramel, red eyes now brown still glaring up at you.

“Forgive this one, she’s a bit mental,” Veronica apologizes, talking now to Alastor.

“Not a problem, my dear. Not the first time a woman has shoved me down, I assure.” Alastor smiles with a wink, making Veronica giggle and you feel like you’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.

“Alastor, can I talk to you? Privately?” You grab his hand once he stands up, tugging it towards your bedroom. Alastor turns to Veronica as you drag him.

“Pleasure meeting you, dear, if you’ll excuse us!”

“Sure,” Veronica mumbled, watching you drag one of the most attractive men she’s even seen into your bedroom. As the door slams shut, she just shakes her head, whispering, “You go girl.”

Masterlist , Ao3

taglist: @i-like-potatoes12533, @girl-nahh-two, @mcntsee, @projectdreamwalker, @sassmasterxx, @alsemain, @yunimimii, @noraunor, @justneo11

Comment if you want to be added! <3

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Saw your requests are open and thought I’d stop by! How about an Echo x Reader with a bit of angst about Tech’s death??? Thanks!

One Day

Echo x Reader

Summary- Echo is, understandably, not taking Techs death well. Comfort ensues!

A/N- Thank you for requesting, hun! Echo is SO underrated, I love my little half-human <3.

Word Count- 801

Echo looked mournfully to the seat next to him. The Pilot seat sat empty. To Echo it would forever be empty. For, the man who filled it was dead. Dead and never to come back.

The thought sunk Echo's stomach. Sitting alone in the cock-pit, just his thoughts to keep him company. The negative and destructive thoughts. He had considered revenge, but what would that solve? It wouldn't bring his brother back...

The only thing he could do is swear to not let the Empire get what he loved. At least not again. He now thought of you. How losing you scared him.

He gave a small sniffle, one he hoped no one heard. He tried to be strong, the rock you could count on.

Just as he choked down a sob, you entered.

"Echo..."

He couldn't face you. Knowing he would break down if he did, settling for a 'Hmm?'

"It will be okay. One day, it will be." You tried to place a hand on his upper arm, stepping closer to him.

Your heart thumped loud in your ears, especially when he shrugged your hand off.

"It will never be the same." He managed to speak, his words wavering.

"Poor thing..." Instead of trying to touch him again, you moved to his front. Forcing him to look at you, his eyes filled with tears.

"I wish I could make your pain disappear." He just stared, now at the floor.

You sighed, while you were grieving yourself- Echo was much closer to Tech. He had known him longer than you.

"He was your brother, no one can take that away." You built the courage back up to rest a more gentle hand on his knee. This time he let you keep it there.

"I am so sorry, Echo." You couldn't imagine what he was feeling. "You've lost so many... What can I do?"

He swallowed hard, "So many clones- brothers have given their lives up for the Empire, for the Jedi, for-" He let out a small sob, immediately covering his face with his hand.

"I know, I know." You stood up, cradling his head to your stomach. You rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. "Shhh."

He started to mumble, muffled by your body, "Tech died for us. Not some Empire." Tech died... That was the first time he had said it out loud. Another sob overtook him.

You just held him tight, praying he would feel better.

"He was very brave. Very, very strong." You praised Tech's name. Echos head slightly moved up and down, nodding in agreement.

He gave a sharp inhale, leaning back. You quickly wiped his stray tears away with your sleeve.

"He's gone, forever." Echo plainly stated. This time he didn't cry, simply void of emotions.

"But he's not. We will always remember him. Always carry on his legacy. His sacrifice will not be in vain. We will make sure of that..." You rested a hand on his cheek, moving back and forth over his cheekbones. Your thumb occasionally smearing an extra tear.

"It won't be today. It won't be tomorrow, but one day. One day it won't hurt so bad. I promise..." You spoke softly, knowing he was in a vulnerable space.

A slow kiss to his lips showed him you were there for him. With closed eyes he spoke, "Thank you."

"We have to try and be half as brave as Tech was. Clones will soon have freedom. Freedom to do whatever they like, not listening to orders." He met your eyes, a little more hopeful this time.

"They could settle down, find a cozy planet. One where war and fighting won't follow them. Even have a few baby clones if they want... Ones named after their dads brothers-in-arms..." You bit the bottom of your lip, a little scared for his reaction.

"Is that something a clone like yourself would want? Away from death, away from sacrifice." You lifted your other hand to fully cup his face.

"I can't leave-"

"No, no, baby. After it all. After it doesn't hurt so bad..." All he could respond with was a lasting nod.

He so desperately wanted all the fighting to be over. He'd sacrifice himself if it meant no more of his brothers died.

You cradled his head once more when he started to sob again. Simply holding him, whispering comforting words to him.

"Yes, yes." He repeated, you just held him tight.

"Hey, look at me." You slightly pulled back.

He looked up at you, doe eyed. "You will get through this, I promise."

He responded with a sniff, he was unconvinced. Though, one day It would be okay. You'd end up naming your first child Tech, in honor of the man. Your second Fives.

"I love you."

"I love you too..."

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I fear this wasn't my best work </3. I LOVE Echo, he needs more attention, and the prompt was so angsty!! I hope I did it justice, let me know if there is any way I can improve!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @dangraccoon @knight-of-flowerss

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Blindsided (Hound x reader)

Summary: When you're tackled by a massiff on your morning commute, you never could have predicted it would end in a date.

Pairing: Sgt. Hound x reader

Rating: M but minors DNI

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Grizzer being the bestest girl; reader nearly gets stood up but it works out in the end; Hound being somehow suave and put together and also a mess; suggestive/fade-to-black; first kisses

A/N: This one is for @idoubleswearimawriter ! Hope you enjoy, babes. This was super fun and I know am an Official™ Hound simp. I hope I did him justice!! 

“Grizzer! Ke’mot!” 

The harsh command shouted across the busy Coruscant square makes heads turn, yours included. Just in time, too—there’s a flash of muted browns and a streak of pink before you’re tackled to the ground. Your belongings scatter, and you just manage to avoid cracking your head on the steel walkway. Dull pain blooms everywhere else, though. For a moment, anger flares inside you. Who let their pet off its leash? 

Then, a warm, sandpapery tongue licks the side of your face. Giggling, you hold your hands up to ward off the obviously dangerous attack, anger fizzling into delight. You push yourself into a sitting position to find yourself face-to-face with a very wiggly massiff who, upon realizing you’re not hurt, turns her entire body to thump her rear against you. The look she gives you over her shoulder seems to be pleading: C’mon, give me scritches! And who are you to deny such a request?

Glancing around, you discover with belated embarrassment that you’re the center of attention. At least bystanders are beginning to lose interest and drift away, resuming their commutes. A single person being knocked prone by a K-9 massiff is barely enough to result in petty gossip on Coruscant. 

Hang on, K-9? You do a double take—sure enough, on the massiff’s harness are the two letters emblazoned in bold white font. 

“Am I in trouble, huh, girl?” you ask the massiff.

“Grizzer!”

Snapping your head up, you locate the source of the gruff voice. Cutting through the crowd like a vibroknife is one of the Coruscant Guard; helmeted, but the design is unlike any of the other troopers you’ve observed from afar. The side plates extend down, painted in the visage of a snarling massiff; a red stripe runs down the center of his visor. He halts a few feet away, fists planted on his hips. 

You clack your jaw shut, realizing you’re staring. “This your dog?”

The massiff, Grizzer you assume, whines quietly. She takes her weight off of you but remains close as she snuffles at your pockets.

“Grizzer,” the trooper repeats, his voice cold and unforgiving through the vocabulator, “gev.”

Reluctantly, Grizzer trots to her handler, her head hanging low, tongue lolling between her teeth. She settles at his feet, her eyes trained on his helmeted face. 

The trooper raises his head so his visor fixes you with a blank, impersonal stare. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you say. A groan slips from your throat as you stand, pain flaring in your tailbone, but you wave away the concerned way the trooper takes a step forward. “I’m fine, just took me by surprise.”

“She’s normally well-behaved,” he says. “I don’t know what got into her.”

Chuckling as you rub your sore coccyx, you shrug. “Whatever it is, I promise I’m not carrying anything illegal.”

“I should hope not,” he says, “otherwise I’d have to arrest you.”

Your laugh turns awkward. “It might just be the massiff treats in my pocket.”

“The—what? Why do you have that?” The tone of his voice is incredulous and suspicious, like he’s never met someone else who carries the specially formulated treats.

“I work at an animal rescue,” you explain.

“Right,” he says. “Understood.”

Silence slithers between the two of you for a long, uncomfortable moment. Your skin prickles where you imagine the trooper’s gaze to be trailing over you. 

You clear your throat. “Right. Yes. Well, I should—”

“Of course. I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright,” you assure. Plucking your bag from where it fell from your grasp, you give the trooper a little wave, then glance down at the massiff. Fishing a now-smushed treat from your pocket, you toss it to her. She snaps it out of the air with lightning-quick reflexes. “Keep an eye on her.”

“I will,” he says with a curt nod.

And that’s that. You gather the rest of your belongings and watch as the trooper leads the massiff away without a second glance. Sighing, you turn away, putting the incident from your mind as you hurry to work. 

--- 

A week later, standing in line at your favorite caf shop, you huddle beneath your umbrella as rain cascades from the sky. It’s your day off, the first one you’ve had in weeks, and of course the weather has to be shitty. You’re doing your best to not let it affect your mood. You don’t want to spend the day wallowing. But, you reflect with a sigh, moving with the line, that’s easier said than done.

The wind is cold as it whips through the narrow street, but the rain is colder where it mists onto your exposed face. Shivering, you turn your head away from the breeze—

And catch sight of a familiar duo. Motionless beneath the neighboring shop’s awning, stand Grizzer and her helmeted handler. You glance away, hoping your moment of ogling went unnoticed. By the time you reach the front of the line and order your usual hot drink and pastry, you think you’re in the clear. 

“Five credits,” the barista says. 

Fishing in your pocket for your money, you fail to notice the armored presence sidle up alongside you until he speaks. 

“Bill that to the Chancellor’s office,” he says.

Behind the counter, the barista pops her bubblegum and gives a shrug, while you gape at the trooper. 

“I— What—?”

“I never said sorry last week,” he says, like that explains everything. 

You frown. “You did, though.” 

“Did I?” He rubs the back of his neck, and the gesture makes your stomach squirm pleasantly for some reason. “Hah. Coulda swore I... Well. Grizzer didn’t apologize, now did she?” 

Arching an eyebrow, you fix him with a level, deadpan stare. It’s cute, actually, the way that he’s trying to be nice, and while his technique is certainly interesting, you’re unsure of his actual motivations. He fidgets under your gaze. Fiddling with the loop of Grizzer’s leash, he drops his head. 

“Thank you,” you finally say, putting him out of his misery. 

Cradling the umbrella in the crook of your arm, you accept your items from the barista with a grateful smile. The trooper hurries to get out of your way as you step out of line, not wanting to make yet another scene. At your hip, Grizzer nuzzles you, an intelligent light shining in her eyes.

“Oh, ah.” You fumble for a moment but you manage to get your pastry tucked beneath your arm so that you can lean down awkwardly to give Grizzer a pat on her head. “Hey, girl. I don’t have any treats on me today. You been good? Have you tackled any more strangers?” 

She pants happily and licks your hand. You snort.

You can feel the trooper’s gaze heavy on your face while you lavish affection on the massiff, and you suppress a shiver. While you’ve never really interacted with the clone troopers much, you’ve heard second- and third-hand accounts of how helpful the Coruscant Guard is in particular. Clearly, they train well not only in combat but also in manners, if your mystery man is any indication. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, still keeping your attention on Grizzer. 

“Hound,” he says, and his tone makes you think no one has ever asked him that before. No civilian, anyway. 

“Hound,” you repeat, a smile ghosting your lips. When you give him your name in return, he nods once. 

“I should let you get back to your day,” he says. 

You’re about to agree, about to make some lame joke about how he’s probably got more important duties than babysitting you, but something makes you pause. Maybe it’s the way that Grizzer leans her body against your leg, or maybe it’s the butterflies that continue to beat against the insides of your stomach after Hound’s display of shyness a few moments ago, but you find a giddy kind of warmth well up in your chest. 

So instead, you say, “Do you— I mean, are clones given time off?”

His helmet snaps to you; you have his full attention. “Why do you ask?” 

“I was just thinking that...” You chew at the inside of your cheek, suddenly bashful. “Oh, I dunno. I was hoping maybe I could buy you a drink to say thank you.” 

“You already said it.” His voice sounds reserved, cautious.

Throwing your own caution to the wind, cold as it is, you flutter your eyelashes, ignoring the way your heart pounds in your chest. “Sure, but I didn’t tell Grizzer, did I?”

He seems to get the hint. “Oh. Well. Yes. I mean, no. I mean— Kriff. Yes, clones get time off. I’m off duty tonight, around 7.” 

“Great.” You smile at him, wide and genuine, and he seems to relax. “I’ll meet you at Dex’s at 8, then.” 

---

Eight o’clock comes and goes. You’d arrived to Dex’s early to snag a good booth, not one that would give the impression that this is anything more than a light-hearted get-together with a man whose face you’ve never seen (because no, you don’t count the fact that they’re clones—they’re unique individuals), but also not one so close to the front door as to give the idea that you want an easy escape route.

The server droid had only waited so long before prompting you to order or get out. So you ordered. May as well make the most of the situation, right? At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself as you pick at your meal. Normally, Dex’s is one of your favorites, a guilty pleasure. But tonight, the comfort of the greasy food does little to quell the sting that pulses through you with each beat of your heart. 

Foolish. Stupid, silly, naive of you to hinge any expectations on this meeting. It had been a spur of the moment decision, certainly not one that you’d normally entertain for yourself, so why does his absence leave such a bitter taste in your mouth?

Not wanting to go back to your apartment, though, you sigh and spend a few hours scrolling on your datapad. Grateful you’d thought to bring it with you, you’re able to catch up on the latest holoforums you’re a part of. By the time the clock reads 10, you sigh, locking the device and leaving a handful of credits on the table for the server droid. 

At least the rain has let up. Where the ground is still slick and puddled with rainwater, you trudge through, splashing yourself. The sky remains heavy with pregnant clouds, oppressive in their proximity to the city. 

The bright neon lights of Dex’s sheds illumination for dozens of feet, and you’re still within that radius when a voice calls your name. You pause, frowning. Again, your name echoes to you, and when you turn, your eyes widen at the sight awaiting you.

Hound—because it can only be Hound, being the only clone trooper you’ve ever talked to—jogs through puddles, his heavy boots thudding on the permacrete ground. Gone is his armor; instead, he wears a tight-fitting black tee (is that a tattoo you see peeking out on the inside of his bicep?), muted green combat pants, and, draped over one arm, a black leather jacket. His dark curls coil nearly to his shoulders, bouncing with each step as he stumbles to a halt in front of you. Panting, he peers up at you through his eyelashes, hands on his knees. 

“Hound?” you ask, equal parts confused, bewildered, and hurt. 

“I’m so sorry, mesh’la,” he says. Without the filter of the helmet, his voice is deep and rich, with the barest hint of gruffness, an old engine turning over for the first time in years. “Huge security incident right before my shift ended. I couldn’t get away.” 

You wait until he catches his breath to respond. Once he stands up straight once more, his weathered and lined face pinched with concern, you sigh. 

“S’alright,” you say. 

He shakes his head. “Next time, I’ll need your comm so I can let you know.” 

“Next time?” you say, the barest hint of a grin tugging at your lips. 

“If you want there to be one,” he immediately says. “Kriff, I— I’m not good at this.”

Warmth surges through your fingertips at his admission. Shaking away the funk you’ve been in for the past few hours, you offer him your hand. “C’mon.” 

He blinks at your outstretched palm. “What?”

“Come on,” you say again. “I don’t think I can sit in Dex’s any more tonight, but I’ve got food at home if you’re hungry.” 

Tentatively, like he’s afraid you’ll explode into smoke when he touches you, he reaches for your hand. His skin is rough and hot against yours, his fingers calloused from years of training. Adding to the texture is a massive scar that travels from his palm all the way up to the outside of his forearm near his elbow; he must see the way your eyes widen when you spot it because he chuckles breathlessly. 

“I, uh, got that from a training accident,” he says. “Over-eager massiff puppy.”

Nodding, you can only tug him along with you as you lead the way back to your apartment. If he were anyone else, you’d never even consider bringing him home like this; but he’s a member of the Coruscant Guard. And besides, you’ve already thrown out any expectations for this to be a normal night. 

The air is humid and thick as you walk, both a promise and a reminder of rain. Your skin feels sticky. Next to you, Hound seems lost in thought, impervious and oblivious to the world around him. 

You nudge him gently with your shoulder. “Credit for your thoughts?” 

He blinks at you. “Sorry. Just... can I be honest with you?”

“Sure.” You keep your eyes facing forward, perplexed by his question. 

“I’m glad Grizzer clobbered you.” 

You laugh, loud and genuine, your head thrown back. And once you start, you can’t stop, the giggles bubbling up your chest without end. Tears dew at the corners of your eyes. Hound digs his heels in and stops walking, pulling you to a stop as well. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you gasp out. “That’s a very apt word for what she did. And not at all what I expected you to say.”

His wounded expression softens slightly. “Well, what did you expect?” 

Hiccuping, you shrug. “I dunno. Not that, though. I apologize for laughing. Please, continue.” 

He squints at you like he’s unsure of whether he should believe you, but then he sighs. “Alright. I was saying, that I’m glad she did that, because then I wouldn’t have been able to meet you.”

That sobers you up. Biting at your bottom lip, you smile, but say nothing, sensing there’s more he wants to say. 

“My vod’e—brothers, they teased the hell outta me for letting Grizzer get loose,” he says. He rubs the back of his neck, the same gesture that first endeared him to you earlier today. “But if it means that I got to buy someone as attractive as you their coffee, worth it.”

“Technically, you charged it to the Chancellor’s office,” you remark, smile turning wry. 

“Have you never heard the phrase ‘it’s the thought that counts’?” 

You snort. “Point taken.”

The two of you begin walking again, palms still pressed together. Against your skin, his heat is a comfort, holding at bay any chill the night air seems determined to impart. You sneak a glance at him. In the yellow glow of the streetlights, his tanned skin glows, ethereal, beautiful. 

“Hey,” you say, voice soft, “I’m glad I met you, too.”

The look he gives you makes your breath catch. Swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat, you tug him along, walking faster. Your apartment isn’t far from here, and you want as much time as you can afford getting to know this man.

--- 

You make him a quick dinner, nothing fancy, but he wolfs it down with voracity and gumption, a look of bliss scrawled over his features. As you lean your forearms on your kitchen counter, you can’t help the small spark of attraction that kindles to life deep in your belly. He looks so...at peace in your small apartment, tanned skin glowing in the incandescent lights caged above the kitchen island.

A thought occurs to you, and you startle into action. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Hound hums his curiosity, mouth still full of food. 

“I promised you a thank-you drink,” you say over your shoulder. Rummaging through your cabinets, you snag two dusty shot glasses and a half-empty bottle of dark whiskey. You rinse the glasses, then, with only a few spilled drops, pour two shots. 

Hound places his empty bowl in the sink. He crooks one eyebrow at you. “When was the last time you drank this?” 

Squinting in thought, you pause with the small glass perched between your fingers. “I...honestly couldn’t tell you.” 

“Well,” he says, a warm, teasing smile ghosting over his features, “suppose I should feel honored.”

Clink. Knocking back the shot, you shudder at the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat. It settles with comfortable heat in your stomach. Hound grimaces, sucking his teeth. 

“Kark,” he mutters. “I can see why you don’t drink it often.” 

Chuckling, you shake your head. “C’mon. I’ve got some sweets we can wash it down with.” 

You retrieve an unopened box of chocolates and rip open the packaging as you lead the way to the sofa. You settle into one corner of the plush couch, and Hound curls into the opposite corner; you perch the chocolates on the cushion between you. He looks...good, relaxing into your couch the way he is.

Emboldened by the strong alcohol now coursing in your system, you gesture to the sweets. “Wanna play a game?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“The rules.” 

You snort. “The rules are that you only get to eat a chocolate if you answer a question the other person asks. If you don’t answer, you don’t eat.”

Hound’s eyebrows twitch upward as if in curiosity. “What kinds of questions?” 

Shrugging, you gesture vaguely around the room. “Whatever you want to know.” 

“I already know what your job is and where you live,” he muses. “And what pastry you like. What else is there to know?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to decide if he’s being facetious or if he genuinely just has no interest in learning more about you. Kriff, have you misread this entire situation? Your palms begin to sweat. 

Then his face breaks into a sly grin. “I’m kidding. C’mon. Ask me a question.”

“Dick,” you mutter, giving him a playful glance. Then, you sigh. “What’s your favorite color?” 

“Really, that’s what you want to know?” He rolls his eyes, giving an exaggerated head roll to go with it. “Of all the questions you could possibly ask—”

“It’s a perfectly acceptable question!” you interrupt, outraged. “Let’s see you ask something better then!”

He huffs. “Fine. What was the name of your first massiff?”

Suppressing an eye roll of your own, you sigh and pluck a chocolate from the box. “Spike.” 

“How original.” 

“I was a child!”

“So was I.” A grin plays at his lips. 

“Yeah? What did you name yours?” you challenge, then pop the chocolate into your mouth. 

He’s silent for a few seconds too long, his eyes looking everywhere but at you, and a victorious grin curls over your lips. 

“You named yours Spike, too, didn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” he grumbles.

Laughing, you nudge the box of chocolates towards him. “Technically, that was a question.”

He inspects the box. Once he chooses his first sweet and bites into it, his eyes slide shut and he groans in appreciation. Your core pleasantly lurches at the sound. 

And so the game goes. You swap stories about your youth: his training on Kamino, your upbringing in the Coruscanti upper levels. You tell him about your dreams for the future, and he muses, however briefly, on what the end of the war might bring for clones. At some point, the chocolate supply dwindles, until there’s only one left.

Mostly you talk about massiffs. His eyes light up when he recounts memories of Boomer, Tusk, and Spike, and his early days with Grizzer. His enthusiasm and passion for the creatures is infectious; you find yourself entranced by the direct gestures he uses, the sweep of his tongue over his lips when he pauses between sentences, the sparkle in his eye when he recalls a particularly feisty massiff. In your chest, your heart pounds. You’ve never been able to resist a man who is good at his job and passionate about it to boot.

“There’s that look again,” he says softly, drawing you out of your thoughts. 

Heat flushes up your neck to your face. “What look?” 

“The one you just gave me,” he says with a teasing smirk. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Which is, of course, a lie. If you had to guess, you were giving him bedroom eyes.

“That so?”

You hum in affirmation. 

His topaz gaze holds your own for a few moments longer than necessary. The uncomfortable, embarrassed heat in your face morphs into something more pleasant, more aroused. Letting your gaze wander, you catch the shallow breaths he takes, the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips yet again, the fist he clenches along the back of the sofa. When you meet his eyes again, they’re darker. 

“Hound?” 

“Yes, mesh’la?” 

A shiver dances up your spine, his voice taking on a rumbling quality. “One more question for you.” 

“Ask away.” His gaze searches your features. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He blinks at you, full lips parting in surprise. Then, quicker than you can react, he snatches the very last chocolate in the box and stuffs it in his mouth. “Yesth,” he lisps around it.

Heart leaping up into your throat, you carefully set the now empty tray of sweets on the coffee table, then crawl across the couch cushions to him. He watches with half-lidded eyes and shifts to face you, stretching his legs beneath your form. Straddling his hips, you gently, uncertainly, rest your hands on his broad shoulders. His hands find home at your waist—not low enough to touch you anywhere you don’t want, but their solidness and warmth make you shudder with delight. 

“If that’s okay, I mean,” you breathe out. This close, you can see the flecks of darker brown in his golden eyes, and count the freckles on his nose. 

“Please,” he murmurs. 

Tilting your head down, you brush your lips against his, testing. A groan rumbles out of his chest; his arms slide around you in an enveloping embrace, hugging you closer. His mouth moves against yours softly yet no less intensely for it. You whimper, head spinning. 

When you pull away, you don’t move very far, Hound’s arms still wrapped solidly around you. He gives you a soft, timid smile—so unlike the gruff, sarcastic trooper who’s been trading quips with you all night. Rubbing your thumb over his cheek, you return the smile. 

Ignoring the surge of need in your lower belly, you sigh. “I need you to know I don’t normally do this.” 

“I believe you,” he says, tone as quiet as yours. “But I want you to.”

Searching his eyes, you find nothing there but sincerity and the beginnings of lust. Capturing his lips in another kiss, you give yourself to this strong, stolid, snarky man. He carries you to your room, undressing you reverently, lavishing your skin with kisses and praise. His hands are everywhere, grabbing, squeezing, feeling you; in return, your own hands roam his toned body, delighting in the rippling muscle beneath his skin. 

And when he slides home within you, you both sigh, fingers twined together. He draws you, slow and languid and breathless, to the edge again and again, murmuring sweet praises in your ear.

After, pressed to his sweaty skin, chest heaving with exertion, you kiss each of his fingertips. Under your ear, his heart beats loud and steady; slowly, its rate lowers as you both unwind. He trails his hand over the expanse of your back. Rubbing in methodical strokes, his touch lulls you to the brink of sleep. 

You startle yourself awake. “Hound?” 

“Yes, mesh’la?” he murmurs. 

“Remind me to give Grizzer extra treats,” you say, voice thick with sleep. 

He chuckles, the sound rumbly and smoky beneath your ear. “I will, mesh’la. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mmkay.” Yawning, you curl tighter against his side, and drift to sleep, your dreams filled with playful massiff pups and Hound, the steadfast trainer.

---

Mando'a: 

Ke'mot - "halt!" (used as 'heel' for Grizzer)

Gev - Stop it! Pack it in! (more severe a command than ke’mot for Grizzer)

[meet-you-at-the-north-star]

Baby, it’s you

Harry Crosby x Red Cross girl reader!

Summary: Harry thinks you’re into a certain handsome pilot, after a mission you get the chance to reassure him

Notes: angsty and fluffy

Word count: 1089

Dedicated to @xxluckystrike 💕

“Hey Bucky” I shot the tall, dark-haired pilot an eloquent look. “Just be careful up there, alright?”

“Don’t you worry sweetheart, I’ll get this plane back to you all in one piece” He answered with a big grin in my direction and winked.

I rolled my eyes, cracking a smile for the first time that morning, as he leaned down to give me a hug. Saying goodbye to the boys before they went flying again was always the toughest part of the job, but I knew I had to be there. It was the least I could for them given everything they were risking.

I swept my gaze over the rest of the group of those who had been chosen for that day’s mission until my eyes found the person they were looking for.

Croz had a strangely gloomy look on his face. He was looking at Bucky and then his eyes darted back to me, like he’d been paying close attention to our quick interaction.

I boiled it down to him being nervous and I tried to smile at him as reassuringly as I could despite the tightness gripping my stomach.

I wanted nothing more than take him by the hand and carry him away, do anything I could to stop him from getting on that damn plane, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I didn’t move a muscle, not even allowing myself to get close to him because I couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen to him.

He smiled back, his entire face lighting up to show the happy, silly looking guy I’d come to know and love for a brief, wonderful moment.

I followed him with my eyes until he disappeared inside the vehicle together with everyone else, and I had to move away from the track to join the small crowd of people gathered to watch.

And then there was nothing left to do but wait. I could have never imagined the kind of experience of being up there, freezing, knowing you could be hit at any moments, but there was also a special kind of pain that came with being forced to sit around and wait.

Minutes would turn into hours, as I tried to keep myself occupied, to have something on my hands at all times. It was the only possible way to avoid driving yourself insane with worry.

So I went back to my everyday mansions, but if my hands were relatively easy to manage, however much I was doing my brain was a whole lot busier and there was no way to keep it empty.

My thoughts lingered on Harry and the last image of him that was burned into my brain: the way he smiled, the wind messing up his wavy hair. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that strange expression a few moments before he got on board: was he mad at me? If that was the last time I saw him, I never would’ve forgiven myself.

Finally we heard the alarm signaling the return of the planes and I held my breath, racing to the nearest window and counting them as they appeared together with everyone else. One, two, three, four, five…fifteen. Half of the original total number.

My heart was pounding in my chest as me and the other girls prepared to welcome the boys who’d made it back relatively unscathed.

I did my best to greet every last one of them with a smile, as they approached, handing them a blanket, a cup of coffee, a glass of water or whatever else they needed. But my eyes kept drifting away in search of the one crew I longed to see the most.

As I was leaning down to fetch other glasses, I heard a familiar sardonic voice: “Hello again, sweetheart”.

My face shot up: “Bucky! You’re alright!” I yelled. “Is he…?” I couldn’t even finish the question, my eyes searching his blue ones for the answer, he knew who I was talking about.

“Your navigator’s fine too” He said in a more confidential tone, smirking as said navigator finally appeared in my line of sight.

Heart racing, I scanned Harry up and down, he looked a little banged up but mostly intact. He cracked a half-hearted smile and before I knew it, I was running towards him and hugging him tighly.

He froze for a moment, taken aback, then his arms closed around my waist somewhat hesitantly.

“You’re not hurt, right?” I asked looking everywhere and fumbling with his clothes, suddenly concerned that I’d been too exhuberant. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay, really” He kept following my ministrations with his eyes as if I was some kind of desert mirage.

“Well it was about time” said Bucky looking at the two of us with a knowing smirk and a usual talent for ruining the moment.

Croz frowned, looking at me in search of an explanation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I gave a small chuckle, then gently took his hands in mine and secured them back around my waist, mine traveling up to his shoulders, holding eye contact. “What do you think it means?”

He blinked once, then twice as the realization slowly washed over him. “But I thought you…” His eyes drifted between the pilot and me and I finally understood.

That’s what that look was about?

“Me and Bucky?” I asked like it was the most ridiculous idea in the world. “Oh, you know the guy, he’s just a huge flirt. Nothing going on there”

“Oh” was all he could muster. It looked like the biggest weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

I took a small step back, reluctantly releasing myself from our embrace. “I have to get back to work and you have to go relax. I’ll meet you later” I promised and leaned on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, before slowly backing away still smiling at him.

“Later” Croz stood there stunned for a few seconds, raising his fingers to where my lips had touched him, until Bucky said something to him that my ears could no longer hear, but it made him burst into a laugh, a soft pink shade coloring his cheeks.

He was about to follow the pilot but then stopped again, turning in my direction. He smiled, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe what just happened. He waved goodbye at me and finally made up his mind and joined the rest of his group.