#and because he let it consume him so much it often meant he couldn’t see the hurt his son was going through

[nico-di-genova]

Constantly fluctuating between happy Legolas being raised by a caring father who was trying his best and Legolas who is a perfectionist because he was raised by a grieving father who tried to be there, but was often too consumed by his own trauma to be the father he wanted to be. Legolas who hides his emotions, even into adulthood, because he was raised by an emotionally closed off man who never spoke of the wife he lost and the mother Legolas had to grow up without. Legolas who doesn’t necessarily like physical contact, but is touch-starved nonetheless because Thranduil hasn’t hugged him since he was a crying child being woken by nightmares of his mother’s death. And he knows his father loves him, but he also sometimes fears that he simply isn’t enough. He wasn’t enough to save his father from drinking himself into a stupor and he wasn’t enough for Tauriel, even if he’s now old enough to realize it wasn’t love he felt for her in the first place, but a deep respect and fierce friendship. And a deep part of him thinks he wasn’t enough to save his mother, despite only being a child when she died in battle. And so there’s the Legolas who grew up in Mirkwood surrounded by kin who tried to give him the best possible childhood, despite the mounting evil around them and the grief that he has endured. The Legolas who laughed freely and loved deeply, because his father wasn’t always closed off, wasn’t always too lost in himself to function. But there’s also the Legolas who used to sit outside his father’s door for hours, just waiting for the man to open it so that they could for once speak of the pain they were both in.

#like I truly think thranduil was a good dad #in that he was fiercely protective of Legolas and would have done anything to ensure his safety #but I also think he never properly dealt with his grief #and because he let it consume him so much it often meant he couldn’t see the hurt his son was going through #legolas #thranduil #lotr #lotr elves #the hobbit #tolkien

[shuaraes]

i should’ve never let you go | x.mh

- To him, love can only mean you

oneshot | 2.5k | exes! au | angst | comfort

after laying out his raw heart for you on voicemail, one part of xu minghao never expects to hear from you again. this is until you text him back asking him to meet you for the first time in over a year. with your text, minghao knows he can’t let you slip away the way he did before.

sequel to we shouldn’t have ended like this

~ pairing . xu minghao x gn!reader

~ content . exes to lovers au!, non idol au!, minghao’s a lover boy, quite cheesy at the end, can be read as a standalone fic but some minor references won’t be picked up on

~ tw/cw . suggestive, mentions of alcohol, minghao’s a bit of a dick to everyone but his s/o

~ song rec . blue jeans - lana del rey

~ author’s note . here it is, the much requested pt.2 !! thank you all for loving pt.1 so much ~~

(taglist at the end)

THE PARK BENCH IS ICE AGAINST MINGHAO’S BLUE JEANS.

His hands are tightly clasped around a medium-sized bouquet, a pink bow ribbon tying everything together. Minghao doesn’t know the first thing about flowers, just knows that carnations are your favourites. Even though there’s a slight chill in the air, Minghao is dressed nicely; short-sleeved polo rolled up to show his arms. He thought he might as well make a decent effort: after all, he’s seeing you for the first time in a year.

Soulmates used to be a concept foreign to Minghao, so foreign when his friend Jun often blabbed on about finding his ‘one true love’ - he could only scoff. Then he thought about what love meant to him. Watching all his friends fall in and out of it faster than he could blink, love didn’t mean much. Yes, he had been ‘in love’ but it had never consumed him, never broken him apart to the point he questioned his purpose of living.

Until you whispered those three words into his ear (it was early morning and you were tangled in his sheets, the linen covering your bare upper body, your eyes were barely opened but your smile was so bright, your fingertips and kisses painted his neck like a canvas. He had never seen such an angelic sight) and it all finally clicked. If this was what love felt like, then he had loved you since he first saw you.

Being in love meant loving you. To him, now love can only mean you.

Honestly, Minghao wasn’t expecting a response from you. It was three am when he sent the voicemail and after so long with no contact, you had probably moved on and found someone else. Living your life without thinking about him, is a privilege Minghao could only wish for. You were in his dreams, in his walls, staring at him in his bathroom mirror.

Although he did miss you terribly, a part of him sent a message because he wanted closure. He wanted to know you didn’t want him anymore. Maybe with your deafening silence, he could move on - live a life with you (an empty promise to himself, like a single coin in a fountain). But you didn’t.

A week after that night, Minghao received a text from your number.

It was early afternoon and Minghao was only half occupied with the tasks of the day, his head everywhere but the present. After sending that voicemail, he couldn’t seem to focus. A string of ‘what ifs’ kept constantly replaying in his head like a strip of film. At a point, he even contemplated throwing away your slippers. But as he saw them by the heater neatly lined next up to his - something deep from within him forced his whole body to stop. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Throwing away your slippers would mean giving up on you. Quitting had not got Minghao very far in life.

A notification popped up when he was scrolling mindlessly that day - he was about to swipe up. But when he saw your contact name (it’s ‘sweetheart’, he hasn’t changed it since the day he told you he loved you, the contact name even outliving your relationship), his phone almost dropped out of his hand and onto his face.

Sweetheart: How much did you drink?

Minghao’s breath hitched in his throat. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you were a drunken mistake. That he wouldn’t have said what he said without the removed inhibitions from several bottles of wine. He meant every single word he said

Minghao: I’ve never been more sober in my life.

His fingers paused at his keyboard, wanting to say so much more. He wanted to tell you once again how he couldn’t live without you, how you were even more important to him than the oxygen that fills his lungs. But he settled with simple formalities instead.

Minghao: How are you?

Sweetheart: Stop pretending that you care.

Minghao could feel his entire heart shatter in his chest, had you not listened to the voicemail or even worse did you not believe him? Did you not believe his love for you? Again, you were slipping away from him right in front of his eyes, he couldn’t let you go.

Minghao: Everything I said in that voicemail was true. I care about you more than I care for myself.

Sweetheart: Meet me in the park at 2pm and prove it then.

That’s how Minghao finds himself in his local park. Coincidentally, where you both had your first date (now several years ago, he placed a pink carnation behind your ear and when he looked into your eyes, he knew you were going to be different from the others). His heart is threatening to fall out of his chest with the way it’s beating so fast. What is he supposed to say to you? What apology on earth can he give you to make up for his past actions?

The past is in the past but Minghao needs you in his future.

As if you were the grand prize in this game we call life, Minghao is a debtor using up his final pennies. He can’t afford to lose you. The universe doesn’t grant second chances easily and Minghao wasn’t a fool to let you go again.

Your relationship was the furthest thing from perfect, but your flaws matched each other in a way Minghao could never fully grasp. End pieces in a jigsaw, rose quartz and serenity in an evening sky, the rays of the sun and the glow of the moon. You were far from perfect but you were more than close enough for Minghao. He was obsessed with you and still is.

He hears the light patter of feet against the cobbled pavement. The sound gets louder and louder until it stops. Minghao looks up from his fiddling fingers, expecting it to be some dog walker whose pet doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. But then he feels a familiar tap on his shoulder, there’s only one person in this world whose touch is as light as a feather.

When he sees you, his whole world ceases to exist. It is only you that remains. For a year he wanted, craved for this moment. You were his messiah, all he wanted to do was worship you until his throat was hoarse and lips parched. He was thirsty, oh so thirsty. Only you could save him, only you could fix him. He quickly stands up to look at you. He thinks if you touch him his legs would give in and he would fall to the floor. Your presence is overwhelming, you’re taking over his sensing and clouding his thoughts.

All of his words are caught in the base of his throat, there is so much he wants to tell you - but as he tries to speak only silence escapes from his parted pink lips.

You look slightly different, something Minghao couldn’t quite put his finger on. In front of him, you are a paradigm of blues, yellows and reds: the centrepiece in an art gallery, Micheal Angelo’s greatest creation.

“These are for me?” You ask cautiously, breaking the seemingly infinite silence.

You were so surprised to hear from him after you had assumed he had fallen out of love with you months ago. You want to make sure, that you haven’t gone mad, that the love of your life is really standing in front of you.

“Of course they are,” He hands you the flowers and watches your face light up when you realise that he remembered.

“You remembered…” You say smiling, looking down and twirling the pink stain ribbon between your fingers. ‘Of course’ Minghao thinks - of course, he’d never forget. He wants to reply but he’s too captivated with your beauty to think straight.

Still lost in thought, you continue, “Where did all the time go… Back then we were so young, so naive, so… So…” You struggle to find the right words to say.

“So stupid.” Minghao’s words are breathless as you meet his ever-so-loving gaze. For the whole of your relationship, Minghao had never been the one to open up to faults - you as well. The feeling of being so naked and vulnerable is foreign to him. But he relishes in the freedom of the truth, his pride no longer holding him down in chains.

He thinks he loves you more than anyone in human history has loved before.

“I meant everything, I said in that voicemail. You were right ‘We shouldn’t have ended like this’, yet I let it happen. I made you doubt my love but to protect my pride, I just stood there, saying nothing. I thought you grew fed up with our relationship, that I wasn't what you wanted. But then I realised you were pushing me away to protect yourself, just like I did.” Minghao pauses getting slightly emotional.

“Nothing I say or do will ever be enough, I can’t turn back time I know that.

But I never stopped loving you.”

And before he can comprehend, you’re in his arms, head against his chest - your home (his heart). You drop the flowers in your right hand and Minghao circles himself around you, engulfing you in his embrace. You don’t say anything, yet a thousand words fall from your parted lips as you stare into his pools of brown (the same pools you could spread hours, days drowning in, as if fresh air didn’t exist). You smell exactly like he remembered, a mix of woods and flora. You feel like a cup of warm tea after a tiresome day, the silver lining he always looks towards. Minghao thinks there’s nothing in the world as beautiful as you.

“I should’ve never let you go…” The words tumbling out of his lips are a waterfall of emotion. Waves of relief rush over him as he feels himself around you. This is where he is supposed to be. Suddenly, everything in his life is going to be okay.

“I should have never tried to push you away in the first place ” Your hands reach up to stroke the back of his hair and he melts into your touch like butter.

This is where he belongs.

Minghao places a small kiss on the mole you have on your collarbone and it’s almost like the past year didn’t happen (you’re on a date in the city, you’re wearing his favourite dress which shows your shoulders and no matter how hard he tries, Minghao can’t keep his hands off you, pecking and nibbling at the soft skin, even if he didn’t say it much, he was enamoured with you). Minghao doesn’t notice the lingering eyes of passers-by, he even fails to realise the passage of time.

Sadly the world can’t stop for him, no matter how much it feels like it does.

With a loud honk from a car speeding down the other side of the road resonating through his eardrums, Minghao is brought back to reality. Suddenly the light weight in the back of his jeans pocket feels all too heavy and he starts to panic, pushing you away gently. You pout, feeling like you have the wrong idea and Minghao’s expression is immediately sympathetic.

“No baby, don’t worry you did nothing wrong.” He coos in a tone that had almost become foreign to him.

Never, has he used this tone with any of his hookups, even when they begged to be called sweet names, he couldn’t (looking back on this Minghao feels guilty, but those people weren’t you, they couldn’t ever be you). He’s surprised at how easily those words drift off his tongue after so long. He guesses everything just comes easier with you.

“Remember how I said, we’ll listen to your favourite jazz album while drunk on wine.” He scratches his neck bashfully as you look up to him with wide eyes.

“I may or may not have booked us two tickets to their live show in the area, I just wanted to do something again to show that I care. I know it wouldn’t make up for-"

You silence him with a kiss, and Minghao forgets where he is, what he had just said, the colour of the sky and the feeling of the ground below his feet. hell if you didn't whisper ‘It’s okay Minghao' against his lips, he would have forgotten his own name.

For Minghao, it’s you. It has always been you and it will continue to be you. Maybe until the day he dies, he thinks. But knowing himself, he would probably find a way to love you in the afterlife as well.

You drag Minghao by his arm into his dimly lit flat, lips still perfectly intertwined together like a lock and key. If your kisses are knife wounds, Minghao wouldn’t mind bleeding to death. He can taste the tart fermented grapes on your tongue. The feeling of his bare skin against yours is more intoxicating than the bottle of wine you shared. You mewl pitifully into his mouth, clutching his clothes like a beggar desperate for cash. The sight of you begging for him was probably on par with the sex itself.

The night wasn’t supposed to end like this. Minghao had planned it out perfectly: you were supposed to visit a jazz show featuring your favourite ensemble, then you’d have dinner at a place he’d been meaning to take you for months, then maybe after a glass of red (or two) a taxi would drop you off at your complex where he would kiss you on the check and tell you to sleep well.

You both barely made it to step two.

Minghao pulls you flush against his chest breaking the kiss for air - you don’t seem to care as you turn your attention to his neck. In the morning, Minghao expects to see dots of red-purple bruises lined across the pale skin of his neck like patches of watercolour. The night wasn’t supposed to end like this, but Minghao doesn’t have the strength in him to tell you to stop.

“I wanted to be a gentleman.” He manages to whisper out, his eyes squeezing shut as you move your hands and kisses downwards, “I don’t want you just for your body, you know.”

“I know. I just missed you so much it was driving me crazy.” You say and drag him by the collar. You’re not looking where you’re going, but Minghao trusts you know his place better than you know your own.

Before he can respond, he feels you jerk slightly, almost tripping over your feet. He looks down to watch what caused it and he feels his face light up like a pink neon sign downtown.

“You still have my slippers here.” You say, not like you’re inquiring, but more like a statement. The smile on your face is miles wide when you look up at him. Minghao knows exactly what you’re thinking and because of it, he’s the happiest man who has ever lived.

“I didn’t have the heart to get rid of them, I never wanted to let you go in the first place."

taglist - @minhui896 @luvhuihui @porridgesblog @bangantokchy @haocovr @icyminghao

#seventeen oneshot #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic recs #seventeen imagines #the8 oneshot #the8 angst #the8 x reader #the8 fluff #minghao oneshot #minghao angst #minghao fluff #minghao x reader #svt oneshot #svt angst #svt x reader #svt fluff #i’m finally doneeee #i hope this lived up to your expectations 🩵

[igncrxntripley]

their secret weapon pt. 6

synopsis: The realization at what she’s done has finally hit Y/N, but her partners have mixed opinions on what to do next. 

tags: poly!judgement day, fem!reader, angst, minor violence (kinda, just to be safe), lowkey sad, more damian than the others

A/N: 🫢 eat it up babes

mentions: @babybatlover @ripleyswhore​

It had been almost a week since Y/N made it clear whose side she was on. She had avoided even thinking about Brooks and what she did to him at Monday Night Raw because her partners told her to move on, and she knew if she thought about him then all of their hard work was going to waste. They were all prepared for Y/N to grieve the life she was leaving behind to be their newest disciple, but all of them also knew it was going to be difficult. The question was, how long would it be until she finished grieving?

The Judgement Day was lucky enough to have the week off from any live shows so they were all able to stay home; Y/N needed that time away more than any of them so she could process what she’d done and how she was going to move forward. For someone who was normally outspoken and giggling with her partners, she’d been quiet and more reserved. She’d rarely left Damian or Rhea’s side the entire time they were home, but then she could barely sleep at night because it meant being alone with her thoughts. Her partners would often have her sleep in the middle since she was the smallest, but she would still manage to crawl out from their iron grips to clear her mind. 

Tonight was no different; when Y/N’s thoughts consumed her and took away the ability to get a good night’s sleep, she gently crawled out from the mess of sheets and limbs her partners created which resulted in a whine from Dominik. He immediately latched onto Finn who was on the other side of him while Y/N got dressed. 

She went into their gym, a place she’d been frequenting when she needed to clear her head, and immediately went for the boxing gloves and punching bag. It was no wonder she’d gotten better at striking in the ring with how often she was using it to cope. After turning on some loud music Y/N got to work and took out every ounce of frustration on the punching bag without giving herself much of a break. With every hit to the bag she switched focus to a different thought or person on her mind. 

I can’t disappoint them. 

I’m better than who I was before The Judgement Day. 

I need to let go of him but I can’t. 

I don’t deserve this opportunity. 

They would be better off without me. 

When Damian had woken up and noticed only three other bodies in bed rather than four, he woke up and decided to investigate. He heard the music as soon as he stepped into the hallway and was surprised that it didn’t wake up his partners; then again they all slept like the dead. Rhea could sleep through the apocalypse if it ever happened. 

Damian walked to their home gym and stood in the doorway, Y/N’s back to him as he watched her destroy the punching bag. He could hear her mumbling to herself, but he doubted she even realized he was watching. Just hearing her made Damian see the self doubt that was filling her body and he wanted nothing more than to make it better for her; he knew his partners felt the same, but they also had high expectations of her. Especially Finn. Even though she doubted herself and she still had room to grow, Y/N had continued to prove herself since she joined The Judgement Day. They were all impressed by her. But she still had a ways to go. 

“Not good enough…you’re better than the old Y/N…” she said in between strikes to the punching bag. Y/N didn’t even realize that she’d been crying, but after a certain point her grunts and heavy breathing turned into soft sobs. “Fuck!” She cried and fell to her knees on the floor. The weight of her thoughts and doubt had finally taken her down and she couldn’t do it anymore. Damian slowly walked over to her and kneeled next to Y/N as she sobbed. “Baby..”

Y/N looked up at Damian, unsure of how much he’d seen or heard but was still embarrassed that he’d seen any of it. “N-no.” She cried as he kneeled down next to her. She hated the sympathetic look Damian was giving her because she didn’t need anyone’s sympathy. She needed to prove to him and their partners that she was deserving of this opportunity they’d given her, even if she didn’t completely believe it herself. Damian shook his head and started to gently take the gloves from her hands. “Shh, mi amor. It’s okay.” He said quietly. It was still shocking how someone so big and tough, someone known as ‘The Punisher’, could be so gentle and caring. It was a side only his partners were lucky enough to see, and they felt incredibly lucky to do so. 

Y/N sniffled as Damian took the gloves off, immediately bringing her hot, sweaty body against his. His hug only made her cry harder; her body trembled as she sobbed and buried her face in his neck. “What have I done?” She sobbed into his neck. Y/N struggled with the pride, but also the guilt over what she’d done to Brooks and the side she’d chosen. “I-I know I need to let my past go but…but I can’t. I’m trying but I can’t!” Y/n cried and hugged Damian tighter. 

Damian held the back of her head and let her get everything out. She needed this; it was part of her grieving process, and he knew that. That didn’t mean it broke his heart any less listening to her cry. “No one said it was going to be easy, amor.” He said quietly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stood up with Y/N in his arms, her legs around his waist as he turned the music off and walked with her to the bathroom. 

He sat Y/N on the edge of the bathtub and ran the water. “I heard what you kept telling yourself in there.” Damian said softly, holding Y/N’s chin between his fingers and gently tilting her head up to look at him. “You’re not a failure. I promise you that, princesa.” His heart broke at the sight of their group’s firecracker looking gutted and destroyed. Someone who carried herself with confidence was now riddled with self doubt; but Damian and his partners also knew with time, that was going to come back. She was going to grow into the best she could be with their help. But for now, Y/N needed their support while she continued to work hard. 

Y/N sniffled at Damian’s words and looked up at him with wide sad eyes, her shoulders slumped from exhaustion. “I want it all to go away.” She sniffled. “I ruined a relationship with someone I loved because I want to be better b-but at what cost?” She asked herself. Damian used his thumb to wipe her tears. “You did what you believed was the best choice. We’ve all had to go through this, and it’s going to get better.” He gently lowered her into the warm bath and she relaxed in the hot water, letting Damian clean her up. The two of them sat in silence as he wiped the sweat and tears from her body and face, and she’d been so exhausted that he barely remembered Damian lifting her out of the water and carrying her back to bed. 

The next morning, the four left Y/N in bed so she could get caught up on her rest while Damian told everyone what happened the night before. “She’s weak, Damian.” Finn said the next morning. While they were all sympathetic, the Irishman had other concerns. “We don’t have time to wait for her to get herself together.” Rhea rolled her eyes at Finn, as did Damian. “We don’t have time? Or you’re impatient?” She challenged. 

Finn sighed and pinched his eyebrows. “Both.” He admitted. Dominik looked up from his video game at his partners. “We told her it wasn’t going to be easy. We need to work with her, Finn. Not make things worse.” Finn bit his lip as he looked at the other three in the room. “Or we continue to test her loyalty.” He wasn’t going to let this go; he was going to continue testing Y/N until she proved she was truly committed to The Judgement Day. “And if she can’t be loyal to us? Then it’s time to move on.”

#wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe the judgement day #wwe the judgement day imagine #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley imagine #damian priest #damian priest x reader #damian preist imagine #finn balor #finn balor x reader #finn balor imagine #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio imagine #poly!judgement day #poly!judgement day headcanons #rhea ripley headcanons #damian priest headcanons #finn balor headcanons #dominik mysterio headcanons #{:their secret weapon:}

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

18 - Afraid of a Ravens Flight

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 10.8k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, references to rape and abusive relationship, discussions of implied sexual context, canon divergence, strained familial dynamics

Notes: We start going gradually exploring new sights in not too long, so brace yourself. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Jon truly couldn’t tell if he wanted to talk about it or not. Spent so long lying about what it was, lying to himself, lying to her, lying to all of them until he woke from a delirious dream back in the beds of Castle Black did he realize he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie about loving Ygritte when he woke from such a horror stricken vision of you pale and dead in your own blood, and to make it all the worse? Sam coming to him to say that not only was that dream real, but just beyond what he couldn’t see then, was Robb as dead as you were.

For a while, he did think he convinced himself what he was feeling was want. He had lied so much he manipulated his own mind into thinking it was true. Seeing her as someone she wasn’t, when in truth so much was spent as he watched himself teetering on mistrust, her teasing him with a mean kind of playfulness that he didn’t like. But she was aggressive and bold, and not liking her meant finding himself on the other end of her own blood thirst.

Jon never felt like he had to walk on eggshells around you. He wasn’t combative with you, he never had been and he hated the idea of speaking to you the way Ygritte would him. As if the threats of violence were supposed to be cute. Strangely his time with Ygritte reminded him more of the dynamic he knew you once shared with Theon.

Always bantering, Theon would make sexual advances in jest but the two of you would play at a battle of wit to see who could knock the other down a peg the most as a game. Jon had tried to ask him subtly once if Theon was truly attracted to you and the man had laughed. Sensing no ulterior, he just shook his head and told him “Just because a girl’s pretty enough to fuck, doesn’t mean I want her in my bed, Snow. Only means I have eyes that work.”

Ygritte was pretty, and at times there was simple genuine amusement in her banter but more often then not it was nothing like that. The small moments build into lies about who she was until Jon made the wrong call. Tried to play off of what he knew she felt for him and it got him shot full of arrows for it, and if he were to be honest, all lies died then. She didn’t kill him, but love in Jon’s eyes would never be anything to hurt the other.

There was no scenario which would ever lead to Jon harming you like that, and he certainly knew there was none that would ever have led to Robb harming you like that either. Real love hurts in the heart, not in blood.

Jon had heard Olly’s story, the details of the redheaded wildling and it wasn’t until that night as he watched the arrows flying into her back be shot from that same boy did he realize the monstrous actions she did. That was not an Ygritte Jon knew, nor did he want to. If it were love, Jon would’ve taken the time. Held her, brought her body to the North beyond the wall to burn her like a lover deserved, but he didn’t. He let the men drag her into the piles of the rest and spend the rest of his time being called a wildling lover with no bravery to tell any or even himself, that he never wanted what she took from him.

Things now though, weren’t quite as easy as he had wished. Seeing you, in person, right in front of him as your fingers gently traced along the scars on his chest had made him snap. Like he was set on fire and the only way he could be put out was you, in your taste, your kiss, and as Jon finally slid inside of you for the first time he knew he was consumed for life. But then you pulled away. Struggled to look at him, and walked around with something so lost and broken that he was terrified it was him.

That your moans and pleas were only a response because of how it felt, but Jon knew that if he didn’t want it when it felt good with Ygritte, he may have just forced the same onto you. Forced something onto you after what Ramsay had already done with much more blood and violence. But then you said something that bothered him more then anything else so far.

That you would have wanted all of it with Jon all over again, but refused in the thoughts you being here was ruining his life. That, he truly hated. Hated that something inside you said that you shouldn’t be here with him, like he didn’t spend his old life in love with you, and his new life desperate for you to let him be addicted to you.

As Jon looked out to the night, much of that evening he spent with the one person who treated him no different. Edd could sense that the time was approaching that Jon would leave and no one would have any protest to it, that he believed in him as a friend and a leader and having you show up with new life and bring it to him as well? Edd felt that maybe he was just supposed to go back to the North he grew up in, and find himself as a leader there, that maybe he was just supposed to do so. And you were a sign to “get your ass moving” as the man put it.

Jon thought of Robb often, he thought of all his siblings often but it was he and Arya that struck him the most. The ones that his world felt a bit more cold and lonely without. Would Robb hate him for what he was doing? Hate that in Jon’s first true reunion with you, he spent over half the night with either his mouth or his cock buried between your legs? That he wanted to do it again and again and all he could see was you and how much he wanted to be inside you?

Was his need for the woman Jon always loved now a great offence to the brother who passed? Yet on the other end, Jon had a very distinct feeling what Arya’s response would be. The word dumb or idiot surely would be in there somewhere as she would scold him for always pushing everything away that would make him happy. Arya knew about you both in those innocent days, not that he ever told you.

Suspected it with her endearingly keen eye and caught you both in secret thinking you were alone in the stables one day. It was only a kiss she saw, but did Arya ever come barging into his room later calling him dumb for not telling her. But now that there was nothing in the way of the way you both felt for each other, his little sister no doubt would have taken it upon herself to force you both to talk.

But she wasn’t, and Jon wouldn’t force you to talk. He knew how gentle things should be taken with you right now, and he would never do anything to harm you regardless of how much he wanted you both to talk. Heavy in his heart, the little princess knew it too.

That talk they shared that day, how instantly she caught the lie saying he was only your friend and that the only person she felt she could go to and be honest about how much losing you hurt was Jon? That wasn’t fair. Shireen didn’t deserve to find comfort only in what was essentially a stranger to her, and yet throughout her time there he always felt her curious eyes watching. Would sit on the steps and watch him train the others, the last connection to the only sister she lost, in him.

Just how much death and bloodshed weighed on your mind? How much of that death kept you from letting Jon go to you. That moment in his office, he wanted so desperately to tell you it all. That you were the one thing that could keep him here on earth, and that you both experienced a violence that none other would understand. Both had died, and both were brought back and Jon knew it was you who was his reason. Didn’t know how or why, but it was you. He wanted to tell you his new life would mean nothing if you weren’t in it, but he didn’t. Not right now.

An utter mess that brought you back to him, and Jon wanted to make it better. But there was only more violence approaching, the most urging one to come from his once home and the people who butchered his family. A violence that Jon knew he couldn’t stand back and ignore any longer.

Yet as a large figure came to lean against the railing beside him, it did strike Jon somewhat amusingly that so much of what started as a tempered, untrusting dynamic full of threats of death had turned into a trusting friendship. Tormund didn’t hold back his thoughts, and never pulled punches which truthfully Jon desperately needed in his life.

“They think you’re some kind of god.” Gesturing across the way to where many both his men and the free folk would find their gazes onto Jon with reverence. There was nothing he could do to stop it, but being looked at in such a way didn’t feel normal.

Grimacing a slight bit, Jon’s voice was low. “I don’t think a real god would hate being called one this much.” Tormund chuckled beside him as Jon felt a small one of his own slip as well. “I died, and somehow I came back, and no idea why or how. But that doesn’t make me a god, just makes me tired.”

Humming, the man looked at his friend with a curious gaze before relenting. “I can tell you, you only came back because your pretty crow brought you back.” Jon stiffened, his gloved hands gripping the railing a bit too tightly as his jaw clenched. “Can’t tell you why, but I do know she showed up and next thing we know you’re by her side a whole lot less dead then when she got here. Your crows all say she died too.”

His eyes slipped shut as he exhaled roughly, giving it away to Tormund instantly. Grey eyes opening to train harshly on the door he knew you were in, like a man possessed to always keep an eye on you. It was quiet for a moment, but he had been honest about you to him before he died and there was no reason to keep this as well.

Jon and Tormund both knew what they’d seen at Hardhome and dreams and visions were child's play to that. “I used to dream about her. With my brother, south fighting a war, I just kept seeing her and they all kept coming true. Until..I finally got back here and I dreamt about her dying in a pool of her own blood and when I woke up they told me she was dead, my brother was dead and everything they fought for.”

It made him sick, thinking that Robb’s last moments were forced to watch that. “Maybe they were trying to tell you to find her before it happened.”

He considered that, that he was seeing you as a way to try and make him to find you before what happened, happened but he couldn’t focus on that. It did, and then it happened to him too. “And now? What are they telling me to do now?”

Tormund leaned closer to him, voice more a too loud whisper. “For one, they’d probably say that the little crow is wasting his time trapping himself here in this shit hole instead of fighting for what he actually wants.”

Just as Jon opened his mouth, his eyes whipped over cross the way. Watching you leave your mother’s quarters with an exhausted look in your eye and much to Jon’s irritation, his cock stirred at the sight of you still wearing his fur cloak keeping you warm. All the worse as for the entire time his eyes followed your person, a dark smugness fell across his face when you relented, and made your way to Jon’s own quarters rather then yours.

Tormund however, leaned even closer with an amused grin behind his wild beard. “Also that if you don’t take her for yourself now that she’s here, someone else just may.”

Jon was torn between amusement and slight anger, but the grin on his companions face told him that was the intention anyways. Face falling flat he turned away to the yard again. “It’s not like that down here. You can’t just take what you want, especially if only one of you wants it.”

Shaking his head, Jon wondered how much the man was catching from his vauge words. A wonder of how much did he realize Jon was far less wanting of the red head then Tormund presumed. But something seemed to connect enough. “I’m not telling you to take her like some dog, little crow. I’m telling you if you can fight for what’s right, you can fight for her.” Tone shifting to more mocking and light, “Or maybe I’ll just have to show her how giant a Giantsbane is, if you’re going to leave her be.”

Now that was purposely just trying to rile Jon up, which absolutely worked. Pushing off the rails as he glared at the larger man, “She’s been through enough. Don’t push it.”

Tormund truly was trying to guide Jon into something, and then kept pushing him further into taking the bait. “I wonder, is all of you so small, crow? That why you’re letting her walk around your camp full of men all alone? Can’t compete?”

Nothing but amused as Jon leaned in, a sprinkle of jestful competition in his grey eyes to match. “Trust me, she knows first hand there’s more then enough of me for her to handle.”

“Then go remind her, before I show her better.”

The man knew just where to poke at the most possessive parts of Jon to rile him up over you, but later as Jon walked into the dark quiet of his quarters? That burning desire simmered down at the gentle sight of you asleep in his bed. He never really had that. Never risked falling asleep so freely in the other’s bed risk of someone finding you in that castle of many who burst into doors unannounced.

Left only in his breeches, Jon slowly slid in behind you. His heart heavy as he pulled the hair out of your face gently to the side. A hand running smoothly along your upper arm as he looked down at you before sliding it just under your breasts to tug your back into his chest.

And when you gave the smallest of slumbering sighs, and moved to fit better with his own arms already around you, Jon found no other explanation to why he was still here then to fight for what he loved, and that was undoubtedly including you.

It was a gamble, but one that you knew had to be taken. The longer you waited, the more time to rally forces the Bolton’s had and the risk of losing too many allies would grow. Having to choose a place to start and this felt like the closest to what could be an easy ally. You sat at your fathers desk, Theon across from you ink to the parchment and Davos to your side.

Your eyes on maps, Davos helping dictate the best course of words to display in such a strange pledge of cause. You had been leaning over, running along the marks you were making trying to plan around what would be the quickest and least obtrusive path. You were only a Stark in marriage, but you were trying to rise against the House that murdered their King. To deny such a plea from where you sat was going to be a fight for some you knew, but denying the whispers of what could be a lie about their dead Queen would be much harder if you stood at their gates. With whatever small numbers you even had at your side.

The door to your father’s quarters had been slightly open and the cold ran steadily over your minimal layers with nothing thick to protect from the wind. Footsteps trickled in, but more then one pair had done so in and out during the course of the day and you simply ignored it for the most part. Theon’s voice reading out parts as he wrote them in bits, “...from my beloved father-”

Your eyes whipped up Theon, brows slightly confused before narrowing in dismissal. “He wasn’t my beloved father. We were at war, he thought I was a traitor. I didn’t love him, he didn’t love me.”

None of the eyes passed judgment, certainly not the ones who had met the man but it was the understanding from Davos who tried to speak up. Beyond what he knew first hand was a truly broken relationship. “A harmless courtesy, your grace.”

Your face twisted almost innocently in incredulity, not looking up from the papers enough to catch faces but for them to see how casual yours felt. Easy dismissal on your lips before looking back down to the papers. “A lie. Take it out.”

Theon scratching at the words before continuing on, your mind focused on the best way to approach full well knowing those left may not be the ones you fought beside. The figure that entered watched silently, leaning against the wall at the sight, watching Theon continue on in what he knew would have to be rewritten anyways.

More scramblings, and more dictating what Theon and Ser Davos had come up with before you glanced up to them once more with a little less sharpness in your tone. “...Make sure it’s written as Lord Roose Bolton. Whatever he’s done, the man is still a Lord.”

A look shared between Ser Davos and the curiously silent watching Jon shared a tinge of amusement between them. Like looking at a younger, female vision of Stannis Baratheon it felt like sometimes with you. Proper, but not bothering with a fake courtesy that was not deserved. “We should send for House Manderly as well.”

Theon looking up with narrowed eyes, “Haven’t they declared for the Boltons?”

You nodded, without looking up still. Much was planning war and battle sent looking at papers and numbers until your eyes threatening to fall out was what you had forgotten was such an irritatingly large part of leading. “They have, but I’m suspicious of their loyalty. Lord Wyman has nothing to gain from siding with them and if we swing his support we cut off Roose’s access to their resources.” Pausing, you narrowed your eyes to nothing before adding, “Send for the Umber’s as well. Only half their men have sided with the Boltons, the rest might be willing to listen to us.”

Having worked hard to keep up with the workings of Northern houses, Ser Davos put for a suggestion that to be fair, neither man had any reason to think was a conflicted one. “The Karstark’s haven’t declared for them either we should reach out to them.”

Your hand paused moving in mid air, your eyes rising up in a palpable tension as you glanced to Ser Davos, only noticing then as you saw Jon lean against the wall some way behind Theon before you swallowed harshly before letting the steel grace back over you. “I didn’t exactly part ways with them on good terms. I’m not quite sure Harald Karstark will have it in his heart to forgive me just yet.”

No one asked, but they moved on and you ignored the ever present eyes of Jon watching you as debates ran back and forth over who to approach, and where to move to get there. Theon finally circling the discussions back around to where you had begun your plannings. “We need to start somewhere that we know we can win. We show up with what, the three of us and a maybe few guards if we’re lucky, and any house that would side with the Bolton’s will have us trapped before we get two words out.”

You looked over everything, and the few promising house would be harder to get to get to safely in such small numbers for what you were to ask. You knew one that would say yes, if your friendship with them was to still be trusted even after all this time, even if they were gone too. But it was getting there with so few of you was the stop.

Before you could hesitate to say it, Jon said it for you. “We should sail for Bear Island. Pledge House Mormont to our fight, and we already have a stronger ally then the Bolton’s have on their side.”

All eyes looking up to his sure and confident ones, your voice was the softest to speak. “Our fight?”

Sharing a glance with Ser Davos, an understanding was between them. A talk that seemed so long ago, but finally at least one man was going to be there to see it finally come to fruition. Jon met your own eyes after a moment, and you could only hope that the lightness in your heart wasn’t so childishly hopeful in your actual gaze towards him.

But he spoke true, and he spoke with the determination of someone who had clearly been spending a long time mulling over this choice. “I’m only lying to myself if I act as if I was brought back to keep shutting myself away here, where my fight doesn’t reach beyond these walls.” You felt heavy, and he needed to know if this was his choice but you saw a leader in those eyes. One that you hadn’t seen such a conviction in, in many before like him. “The North is my home. It’s part of me, and I need to be the one to fight for it.”

If Jon was going to do this, he needed to know and it needed to be now. Looking to Theon and Ser Davos your voice was restrained but a bit rough trying to keep calm. “Would you two give us a moment alone?”

Watching closely, you followed them to the door as Jon walked further inside. Theon only getting far enough for you to tell him to hold off of drafting the rest of the letters until you had everything finalized. But it was really, just one thing you needed to be sure of.

Gently closing the door, you stood staying faced to it with your heart racing. For two night’s now you had found yourself falling asleep in Jon’s bed, in his arms and neither of you had broached the topic beyond those quiet moments of peace in the dark. First morning he was up and gone before you, and this morning had been your turn to leave first.

It was a solace in this turmoil that you were petrified you were about to lose before even understanding what it meant. Looking back with a stilted expression, and something far away in your eyes you didn’t move any closer to him. Jon now looking over your own work, hands tapping at the desk before looking back up to you. “It’s not just me.”

Your face morphed into a confusion as he braced his palms over the top of your chair to elaborate, nodding out to the window. “Most of the free folk here came from Hardhome. Your father lent me his ships so I could sail with Tormund and bring them all here. Told them I’d allow them south of the wall and if they wanted, find them land to actually live on for themselves.”

Not for a second did you show any doubt or lack of understanding, it wouldn’t have been an easy decision but something in your once dreams of cold and ice had you pausing. Not just the goodness of his heart did such a thing come about.

“The North has never had an easy relationship with the free folk. But I knew leaving them beyond the wall to die would just be me acting like a coward.” There was something in a toned down anger in his face, in his voice no doubt from how much issue that choice brought him. But then it was haunting. A darkness so far away in Jon’s eyes that was of horrors beyond most peoples comprehension swirling inside them. “I’ve seen them.”

You knew what their fight here was turning into, but as you looked at him, your mind remembered a dream. One that started as a memory in the rainy woods of Winterfell and ended with a towering figure of freezing cold with eyes so blue they that of another world. The ice, the cries, the bodies spread out in pieces your nightmares were his reality.

“The first time I was beyond the wall. I saw a father take his infant son out into the woods, saw him leave him there in the snow..and..” Jon’s gaze flew back up to you as the dreams played behind your own eyes.

“You saw them take it. You saw one of them take the baby away.” Jon trying to ask how you knew but you were far ahead of that. “I saw it...or...I saw it through you...” Pacing forward you leaned against the wall to the side, something far and disturbed in your own eyes to match. “I used to dream about it, about the cold and ice..and I dreamt about something with blue eyes taking a crying baby away in the woods.”

It was a looming fear trying to understand what you had been seeing, but it wasn’t just a creature or a nightmare. It wasn’t the dead, it wasn’t a monster you made up. It was them. You had seen the Others because Jon had seen them and your blood ran as cold as those dreams did.

“Jon..what happened at Hardhome?”

You had dreamt of blue eyes beside a mass of standing corpses beside him in the captives of the Boltons. Jon pushed himself up, running a hand over his mouth as he circled around closer to you as he leaned back against the desk. “There were so many of them, not just the dead but..more of them then I ever thought. We got out what we could, a good amount of the free folk, but one of them looked right at me and just like that...every single one of the dead stood up beside them.” Your name slipped roughly from his lips, beckoning you to look up at him properly. “Whatever brought you and me back, this was nothing like that. When they find a way to get beyond the wall, and we aren’t ready for it-”

Your voice was barley audible were the room not so painfully silent, and Jon standing as close as he was. “If we can’t protect the North from each other, then we have no chance against them...” If the North couldn’t stand together then there was nothing to fight them back from the rest of the realm at all.

The quiet between you was thick and it was full of something more chilling then the mere wind out that door. “We start with the Mormonts. The free folk at our side should be enough to help us get there, and we start finding a way to unite the North again, together.” He was so sure of himself, and yet you were so instantly on edge.

He almost reached out to you, but the hesitation in your own eyes caught him. He murmured your name but you turned away. Running a hand over your forehead firmly before sighing out. Stood just in the middle of the room, your arms crossing over your chest almost protectively as there was a worry in your eyes.

“I...I don’t- fuck.” Fidgeting on the spot you struggled to find the words, this wasn’t how this was ever to play out that night you first heard Robb propose it. Your face fell almost like a plead, “I’m not saying this to manipulate you, or force you into anything I truly promise but you- I cannot let you do this blind. I know, and so does every lord we go to for this, and you shouldn’t find out from them.”

It made sense then, and still did now but you also knew part of planning for this included you being just as dead and gone as Robb as the likely scenario. You didn’t foresee yourself being the one to say it.

Whatever it was Jon was bracing himself for, you knew instantly by the stunned expression in his face, his guess was nowhere near this. “Robb named you as his heir to the North.” You felt your own heart race and the exponential fear of Jon hating you for this broke your calm trying to justify yourself. But if he hated you already, you weren’t sure anything would fix it. “The Lannisters were desperate, we won every battle we fought, we were winning the war and they knew they couldn’t beat us in the field. Tywin Lannister started making moves and we knew he was planning something, and Robb needed to name someone as his heir, to be King in the North after him in case...”

You looked away, trying not to see the blood and the fire. Your voice cracking before forcing it back to something you could swallow. “And he named you. He wanted it to be you.”

Once more, you were struggling to find anything in Jon you could read easily as he stood as still as a statue. His voice rough and quiet in disbelief, “But you were..”

Blood soaking his hand as he looked up to you, a broken expression you had never seen and it would be the last one ever. “Even if..it would have been eighteen years before he came of age regardless...but we also knew, we thought,” you corrected yourself, “If something happened to Robb, it would happen to me too. You were the first person he named, and out of every other option that came to mind Robb never trusted the North to anyone as much as he did you.”

Eyes a little less wide in shock, but he was still as a statue more. Whatever he thought he felt hearing Stannis Baratheon offering him a true name and lordship was nothing compared to the brother who had everything he ever wanted, leaving the most important thing trusted in no one but Jon’s own hands. “Did...who agreed to it?”

You almost could smile in a cruel pain, “Only Catelyn had an issue with it. But when Robb told her, every other Lord had signed off on it already. He only asked for her support as a courtesy..but not a single person in that meeting protested. Because Robb was right and they all knew it.” You found his eyes and hoped that it wasn’t just another knife in his chest you were adding, “Robb made it perfectly clear, he knew you deserved everything he had. Because you were his brother. Because Stark or Snow..Ned Stark had four sons. Not three.”

You couldn’t be in here anymore, you couldn’t see the conflict on Jon’s face so drastically you couldn’t stand here and talk about Robb or the son that never came, or how you just wished Jon didn’t hate you for shoving this at him. “You needed to know, before you left. Because the first place we go, they are all going to know exactly who you are and..it would be a lot harder to turn around and leave at that point. You needed to know what you are agreeing too if you do.”

One last look at him, and his grey eyes were begging you for something but you both were in too much complicated of a mess to know what that was, or for him to just ask for what he needed. Your name slipped so, so gently from his lips but you shook your head.

Debating grabbing something warm, but it was your fathers coat next to Jon’s own fur cloak and you decided to just let the cold slam into your skin as you brushed a hand over the door handle. “I’m sorry. I’m...It wasn’t...I’m not trying to trick you into something you don’t want but in my defence,” Looking back at him you tried not to think too much about how Jon was almost trying to look at the scar under your clothes as you spoke. “I thought I’d be long dead by the time you found out. So at least I wouldn’t have to see first hand how much I just continue to ruin your life.”

You think Jon may have called to you, but you had walked out the door and made your way as far as possible. You just needed to be away from him. You’d have to leave soon, army at your side or just a fair few brave souls stupid enough to follow a leaderless cause. Making the same choice as those years ago, leaving Jon behind for the Night’s Watch as you left for something which would inevitably turn into a war.

Night approaching on Castle Black was when you were found. Finding a place away from most for just a while in silence before any could come to you with just one more thing to add onto the weight of your shoulders. Sitting up on a crate, one of your feet was resting up on a small clearing of firewood as the other hung off the crate free.

The wind was cold, and your bones even colder from how long you had been outside like this but ever since arriving here you hadn’t felt anything close to yourself, at least in captivity you had a reason for being so out of your own mind. Here though it was simply a barrage of mistakes or failures on your part that had you losing your sense of self.

At least when there was no one around, it didn’t matter how exhausted or lost you looked. You could sit and contemplate the place in life you found yourself in with disappointing ease. Fingers peeling the meat one small bit at a time from it’s skewer as you let the toughness occupy yourself with how much was needed to chew. Nothing special, but in that moment you cared not for what it tasted like as long as it kept you from passing out as soon as you stood up.

Only, not quite all of it, it seemed was to make it down to your mouth. Hearing nothing right up until a whine already was right beside you, you whipped around in place only to settle instantly. Ghost stood tall even on all fours, almost matching your elevated seating enough to where you felt the food over your lap. Red eyes looking to you and then the meat, you could almost see the little smile in his huff towards you.

Brows raised amusingly as you slowly pulled off a piece. “I see how this is, I finally decide I want something to eat of my own accord and here you are demanding I share.” Not wasting any time teasing the direwolf you held out a piece between two fingers as Ghost sniffed before ever so gently grabbing it himself. Just as you finished chewing your own, he stepped forward more. Eyes just as patiently waiting with excitement.

Chuckling, you pulled off two more small pieces, tossing them into your mouth before making a pile in your hand with the rest. Not having the chance to put them anywhere, Ghost simply bumbled into you and ducked his head into your lap to eat right from your hand. That smile felt genuine on your face, and you weren’t sure how long it had been since you felt a true one. Your free hand begun to run over his fur, occasionally scratching your nails along his scalp.

Finishing off your food, Ghost let another huff out before resting his head right in your lap. Eyes closing at the feeling of your nails and now too heavy to get up without the direwolf moving first. Your eyes simply stayed trained on him, watching his red eyes slowly dip the more relaxed you made him and yet you know this was a beast many feared.

You think you sat there with him for as long as you had alone, at least until his ears perked up. Moving his head off you to look to the approaching figure, and sinking back down to rest in your lap when it was only your mother. Standing quite a few feet away she eyes it with distrust, but you only shrugged a shoulder and ran a hand back over his white fur. “It’s alright, he would’ve been more aggressive if you couldn’t come near him.”

Carefully approaching, she made a wide path with narrowed eyes around the direwolf before gently sitting on the crate next to you. Albeit with far more grace then you had the energy to put off. Watching you run your hand lovingly along the giant wolf’s fur before breaking the silence. “How did you get it to trust you?”

Not looking at her, you smiled at the once more drooping eyelids of Ghost. “I knew him back when he was a pup. He likely just remembers my face. That and I offered him food.”

Neither of you rushing the conversation, Selyse simply sat quiet next to you for a while. Your relationship with your mother was as strained as it was complicated. She just as your father had, declared you nothing but a traitor with such callousness. But now he was gone, and Shireen was gone so all was left was the both of you. Two women who had not seen one another in over six years, since even before you returned to King’s Landing with Ned Stark.

When you did, it was all visits for Shireen. Most of your days on Dragonstone were out in the islands terrain together, trudging through the sun so you could show her all the places you found on your own as a child. Simply put, there was not much to say between you two at most times.

In Winterfell it was Catelyn Stark who saw fit to treat you as a daughter and it was that mother which followed you and Robb into war. A mother who died for that war. Instead you found a reunion with this woman and she was as strange to you as the father you met that one day in the fields of the south.

You couldn’t talk to her about Shireen anymore, telling her you would not hear it you couldn’t handle any of this religious fanaticism when you had to be the one to end her. What was left was only you two, but you didn’t want to turn her away entirely. Without you there was little left for her, and you dared not think what her life might be like so alone.

You already knew that was utterly painful.

“Your father saw something in him.” Your eyes flickered up, but you moved none else to show you heard her. “Spent much of his time here learning from him, as he learned from your father. I thought at first he saw him as the son I never gave him. But now I’m not so sure.”

You let your eyes drift to the ground to find a meaningless spot on it. “I didn’t imagine he offered him Winterfell for nothing.”

Selyse sighed, neither of you were making this easy but she wasn’t sure if it was you, her, or the habits passed from your father to blame for how awfully you all communicated. Unsure if it was worth trying to find a happy medium here or if she should just cut tight to the point.

“I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you.”

Your eyes flickering shut as you sighed deeply. Turning your head away from her with a grumble, “Mother.” Your tone in a stern warning, but you knew she would press on anyways.

Which she did, ignoring your protests entirely. “You can pretend the truth is otherwise all you like, but I have seen it. I also know, that he was prepared to leave everything behind here the moment he learned you were alive and ever since you brought him back he looks at you like he would have no idea what to do with himself if you leave again.”

You bit your tongue, shaking your head as you willed your breathing to settle a bit. “I would say he looks like a man who has had everything turned upside down since I came back into his life.” Ghost huffed in your lap as you almost ran your hand over his soft fur as a crutch. “And the second I leave he can go back to the life he was building for himself again.”

Her tone was as stern as yours could be, “How many times do you think there is a second chance at love, how many women even get a first chance and you are throwing away your-”

“Robb was my second chance.” Looking over at her, there was a mix of anger and a sorrow that had never gone away. But for once, you were pure and honest and it was the first person you so freely said it to and it was your mother of all people. “I loved Jon first. For a long time, then I got married. Jon left for here and we knew we’d never see each other again. And I fell in love with Robb. He was my second chance, he was the life I was to make after losing the first. And now I’m here. Back in Jon’s life as if he had any reason to want to help me beyond obligation. He shouldn’t want anything to do with me, and maybe Robb hates me for wishing it was otherwise.”

Your mother never met him, only heard through the whispers of a war and yet the way you spoke about him was with such a defeated sorrow. Difficult to imagine what it was like all that time with the Boltons when you lost so drastically. But she had met this one, had seen the way Stannis had admired something in Jon Snow and how you both stood here together after finding sure death.

“Plans the lord has for us go beyond the normal realms of a sacred vow.” Turning to look at her you tried so hard not to say a word about this belief of hers. But the look in her eye was serious, full of a true conviction. “Through everything that has happened, he brought you and this boy back from death so you could find each other again. Trust in him that it means something.”

You cared not for her god, not for it’s strange way of doctrine, not for the fire that demanded sacrifice and blood, and not for how it was brought to your family by the woman who strung your sister up on a pyre to burn. “Why would this god of yours care for two people who don’t even believe in him?”

Leaning in, her face narrowed trying to plead to a destiny just as the red woman spoke of, just as your father always spoke that you had no choice in and you hated all of it. “Perhaps your fate with this boy is important enough the Lord can see passed such an offence. Your father is the chosen and you without any belief in the lord still think he is out there. Still leaving to unite these people for a war you didn’t even know of until finding him.”

Ghost rose his head up, suddenly rising up on a dime, as he tilted his head towards you in a eeiry silence. Leaving you to lean forward out of her sight in your sides covering your mouth with hands clasped together.

“You are meant to fight by your father’s side. Come to him in the great war, only perhaps the Great Wolf she spoke of was this one. The one that is still here, the one that you brought back.” Your eyes once more flickered to Ghost before sighing.

Both of you were quiet for a moment before you muttered, “We leave in a few days, if you are sure you want to follow you should start packing now. Have Olly gather Father and Shireen’s things as well.”

Ghost had been sternly silent, until suddenly moving forward coming to Jon’s side as he approached the pair of you. Only a matter of time before it all fell apart between you two and now was that time. “Pardon, my lady but if I could have a moment alone with your daughter?”

Nodding without issue, you both stood as she gave you one last look. One of a mother you knew was telling you to just listen to her for once before parting ways. The silence between you and Jon was painful, at least to you. “How did you know where I was?” Jon’s head tilting towards Ghost as you narrowed your eyes the slightest with a whispered, “Traitor.”

Coming closer towards you, there was no tension in his stance or face that you expected from the man, instead it all sat on your shoulders. All plastered on how much you were keeping a stone walled expression that for so long was never, could never be directed towards him. But now you were afraid to let anything else slip passed.

Looking you over with an amused glint in his eye, “At least I know it’s not just you whose bad at dressing for the cold.” You only shrugged a shoulder, glancing away from him before he found more reason to fill the silence. “Come with me, I have something for you.”

Narrowing your eyes, Jon only turned to the side, beckoning you again to follow. Doing so quietly, and a few more feet away from him then what looked natural. Paths moved out of the way for you both when passing by with watchful eyes that never seemed to go away anymore. For you or him.

Coming back to his own quarters, he guided you in first as he held the door open for you. Noticing to yourself that certain things seemed to be moved around, or at least it appeared that way as it looked emptier then before. But it was where the bed was that laid a few things, leathers, gloves, all in dyes of black.

Jon kept himself a few feet behind you as you looked it over. “I couldn’t let you leave in just those. They aren’t perfect, what I could get from the Night’s Watch own supply but they should fit well enough.” A look over your shoulder your face a little softer, and finding nothing but his own genuine concern on his own. “You should try them on before you leave.”

Turning back, your heart felt a bit faster in pace but your mind also told there there was little point in hiding. At this point more then you’d ever care too had seen beneath it all. The room was deathly silent as you slowly took things off. Back facing him you knew he could see lashes fading across your spine and a distinct scar he knew was from an arrow that had not healed but just sat dormant like certain others. One also on your upper arm that matched the imprint from that night.

At least turned away from Jon, he couldn’t see the occasional wince that crossed your face. Not much hurt to the same degree, but the muscles within not without their soreness sometimes. Hard to forget you truly hadn’t been away from the Bolton’s long enough for the worst of it to go away.

The leathers were warmer then anything you’d worn in the past year, making you wonder just how much of you being used to the cold was simple over exposure. Neither of you spoke a word despite knowing Jon’s eyes watching you the entire time, only when you gently sat on the edge of the bed did Jon come forward, kneeling down in front of you. “Let me.”

Even behind the gloves you could feel such a gentle touch, making sure the much sturdier boots fit and lacing them up without thinking of it. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”

He didn’t look up, focused on the task at hand as his voice rasped out, “I know.” Your fingers flexing into your fists as a lightness shivered over your spine. He always was like this, doing small things for you, getting things for you simply because you needed them and he wanted to do it. Finally meeting your eyes again asking, “Everything feel okay?” When you nodded he stood up abruptly, “Good. I have one more thing for you.”

Eyes slipping closed with a sigh, you stood with a dejected tone almost in warning, “Jon.”

It was a proper sword and sheath he returned with. Nothing flashy, just simple black and an average hilt. Taking it gently from him, he explained as you pulled it out slightly to look at the blade. “It isn’t anything special, but I had adjusted to fit your size.” Your eyes had narrowed, containing the feeling that this had the distinct markings of newly forged. “Assuming you haven’t forgotten how to swing one.”

For the first time, you glanced up at his grey eyes with a slight smirk before lingering too long. “I remember a thing or two.” His hand reached to take it back, unexpectedly moving close enough you could feel the ends of his hair, as he moved behind you.

Strapping the entire thing properly to your person, no doubt Jon could hear the hitch in your breathe at the close proximity. Ensuring it was snug enough before so lightly he rested his hands on your forearms before sliding up to just below your shoulder. Rasping deep into your ear, “I had Theon prepare everything to be sent out when you’re ready. Had to make a few changes first, myself.”

He didn’t let you turn to face him, but you also picked out that he likely knew you’d try to walk away from him the moment he did. “Why?”

Another shiver ran down, but this time not at the husk in his tone but the sureness in words. “Didn’t want any of them to think they were about to be raided by an army of wildlings when they all show up with us.”

“Us?”

Jon turned you himself, but kept you in his hold. Things between you were delicate but so much of that strained state came from your nerves alone. “The North is our home. All of it. And I’m not going to let you walk away from me again to fight a war all by yourself.”

Tilting your head a bit with a narrowed gaze you looked with a hesitation, “Jon if this is only because-”

“It’s not.” He no doubt, felt the shiver that crossed your skin as one of his hands gently traced up your shoulder to gently run across the hair at the back of your head as he leaned in. Enough you could feel his breathe along your skin, but never pushed further. “I spent my whole life watching Robb get everything I ever wanted, and I spent my whole life wishing I could hate him for him. Then I watched him marry the one thing that was mine and mine alone for years, and I still never could hate him.”

It was a moment just like this, as Jon told you not to look for him during the wedding. That he wanted you to be okay with becoming Robb’s, and yet years and loss later for all of you it was you both back in such a similar position once more talking about Robb.

Only you were both older, one of you much more broken and the other strong and full of what makes a true leader. And this time, you already were Robb’s and this time you also knew too well what you were missing by pushing Jon away.

Your voice but a whisper, “He,” You swallowed as your eyes slid shut in a flicker before collecting your thoughts, trying not to think of the hand ever so slowly raking through your hair. “Robb regretted not being there for you more. Wishing he stood up for you more, stepped in between you and his mother more..but this wasn’t..He wasn’t trying to prove anything with this. He just wanted to give you the one thing he knew you never would’ve thought you deserved, because he knew you truly did.”

Much like the night of the feast as well, Jon watched your hands come close to resting gently on his person and painfully hold back. “How about we start with fighting to get our home back.”

That you could agree on, that was something you could focus on. Once more however, a small smirk slid onto your face catching his curious eyes. “I’m not sure anything has quite felt like home in a long time. It may be nice to finally find one for once.”

The wall somehow felt even windier in the sunlight. Your backs both against the edges of the opening looking out to the vast forest and snowy mountains fading into the far North. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, but you gave each offer it’s fair strengths and drawbacks. Theon’s choice to follow was simple, you or risk returning to Pyke and only one of them had a promise of someone to trust still at his back and defence.

Olly was a bit different. He was pledged here, but circumstances were different. Not here by force, but simply beacuse his only home was taken from him so suddenly and violently. He was finding his stride previously as Jon’s steward but since that day, he had found a strange fearful trust in yourself. You in a way seemed to scare him, your stern intensity but also there was a softer spot that he had seen in your fathers quarters. He had followed you and your every order since that point and now that you were preparing to leave in a number of days he felt conflicted about staying behind.

None had spoken of his involvement of that night, and it only confirmed your initial suspicions that he was very much manipulated into it by Thorne. None felt the need to throw him to your mercy or to Jon’s, likely as the rest found shame and guilt in their own actions knowing it was too their fault for letting a child become entangled in the crime.

Looking back to you, he clearly was fighting to find the right words. Knowing you watched out to the north with nothing but patience for him to find it. “He wouldn’t want me around.”

A small smile came to you, rolling your head back with an eyebrow raised and a gentle tone that he continued to find some comfort in. “He’s left your situation in my hands. Hasn’t even said a word about what I’ve chosen to do with you, and he continues to be here with ten other men who are far more guilty then you.”

It was a mix of what he did, and seeing Jon come back. He looked to you with a fear in ways, but it was stronger towards him. Crossing his arms behind his back as he dropped his head, you watched calmly without any prompt. You couldn’t choose this for him, it was a weight he was to bare the rest of his life and none could dictate how he would cope with it. At this age, anything was possible.

“What would I do if I stayed?”

Eyes flickering to the side in thought before finding his once more, one shoulder moving in a slight shrug. “Serve whoever runs this place all the same, learn and grow from being under their leadership and find a purpose the way you tried to before any of this happened. One action shouldn’t dictate the rest of your life.”

He narrowed his brows, looking back down to his feet in thought. Your voice speaking up once more before it got too far, “Olly, it’s not just him to consider. When we leave, the free folk are coming with us, fighting with us. There’s no escaping that if you come with me. I’m not telling you to get over that pain, but I am asking you to consider if you’re ready to let your anger sit aside yet.”

That got him, his eyes flying out to the other side of the high walls even though little could be seen from where you both stood. You could still so vividly see what he had told you of that day. Of the horrible numb feeling seeing an arrow fly into his father’s neck, how he crumpled to the ground without his face even shifting. And the memory of his mother shaking him by the arms telling him to hide before they were overrun and she was utterly slaughtered.

How two men snatched him, hissing in his ear about how they were going to eat them and to run to Castle Black before they did it to him as well. You wouldn’t get over that so quickly either, but you also had the advantage of age. You could shove that into a box and hide it under the earth beacuse you could look out now to the North and see the crystal blue eyes that haunted your dreams. Olly hadn’t see any of that, himself or in dreams and visions. It was harder to see.

He sighed deeply. Looking back to you with almost a sad hope. “When you take Winterfell, what happens then?”

It hurt, seeing such a young, innocent face so torn from his bias, to his actions, to the pain that would never go away. The way Olly was so horrified by the truth of his actions, that he burst into tears trying to confess. The weight that you knew was horrible and burning in your mind and it came to him after only just finding his way into teenage hood.

You were quiet, trying yourself not to put too much hope into the blood and battle you were eventually to walk into. “Some will begin finding land to settle into, ones that would be safer away from the fights to come, some will likely stay at our side and others will go to wherever our plans then take us. But there is no hiding from them, Olly. They’re here now, and one way or another you will have to find a way to handle that.”

Waiting a beat, you had one idea he way be able to live with. Stepping closer, you knelt down a bit in front of him. Once more, Olly seemed to find it a bit easier to look you in the eye when not forced to look up at you in fear. “You can either come with me when we leave, stay here at the Night’s Watch. Or...” You drew out the first few syllables of the next word trying to be sure and phrase it to the boy with hope. “..when we reclaim Winterfell, you can make your way there. I’ve made it clear to the men here that you are with me, and considering your age and why you even came here.”

More hope was in his eyes at that. Clearly being left behind here wasn’t an easy choice for him, and you tried hard not to think about how you leaving seemed to feel like being abandoned to Olly. You also forced yourself to not even slightly consider the implications of why.

“You promise they won’t catch me as a deserter if I do?”

Forcing a small smile onto your lips, you raised your eyebrows playfully. “I can write you up a pretty, formal deceleration if it makes you feel better.” He huffed out a laugh at that. While you didn’t tell him before you left, you made your way into his room and left two papers. One with just that, a promise from the Queen in the North of his assurance to travel from Castle Black to Winterfell, and another smaller note scrawled out much more personally and a tad playfully, saying just in case he thought he would need it.

It wouldn’t be for a few more days that you would leave, but being totally alone now made the most sense. And when Olly hugged you tight, it was harder and harder to deny that perhaps that admiration Theon was speaking of, was just a conflicted, hurt boy finding the only solace he could, in a woman who reminded him of the mother he lost.

The Sun was up still shining a gold in the sky, as three figures stood at the railings watching over the growing black in the skyline. Only years ago, this same image looked out over a war for the North, only this time the wolf next to you was the one which was missing last, his own person darker in heart, and a strange one that beat despite the very wounds in is chest to stop it.

And yours lay untouched but under the mutilation of something that left you to bleed out in agony but both knew they would not be in a living soul once more were it not for the other. You didn’t understand any of it, and neither did Jon. But it was a truth that you couldn’t ignore. You both had been dead, and both would be things that would no longer be able to be ignored.

The Northmen knew of your death, and the Free Folk of Jons and once those whispers converged, there was no telling what was to be in store for that, or for the blood inevitably to follow.

As the three of you watched the Ravens leave, a final decision that sealed what was to be walked in on, and what was to come of the enemy you were to fight. It was Theon to the right who looked at you. An underlying waver in his own voice as he watched the far away one in yours that both men beside you could feel radiating with it’s own fear. “Are you afraid to see him again?”

Your hands on the railing tightened as Jon’s eyes darkened at the sights and sounds of what he had seen all over you, and the vile things he had Theon tell of what else had been done to you. You could fight a war against Roose Bolton, but fighting one against Ramsay was truly what Jon knew would turn violent. Your war against Roose was for the North and for Robb, but to Jon, the war against Ramsay was for you.

All your response could muster as your eyes stayed trained on the distant ravens was a single nod. A nod that had Theon lean forward more against the rails. “Good.”

Both looked at you but you looked at none. “Why is that good?”

You knew why. Theon had endured as you did, and he was the one who dragged you from that hell out and running into the cold and the freezing waters to escape before his torment ended your life, at his hands or your own. And now, you were going back. Numbers at your side, a hope for more to join, and a wolf that Theon could see, would shed as much blood as he could to protect you. But still, all that horror and you would be going right back to face him. And Theon’s answer was as blunt as it was honest about why.

“It means you’re not stupid.”

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

[vintagenahbi]

You Breakup/ Get A Divorce

Ot7xReader- BTS Reactions

JHope, Suga, RM

Summary: How you handle being separated and breaking up with each member.

JHope

I stood there in shock starring at the divorce papers that were just handed to me by Hobi. I was lost for words. Any time I would try to speak nothing seemed to come out. I felt tears stream down my cheeks hitting the page, nearly causing the ink to bleed.

“It’s for the best [y/n].” Hobi said. I looked at him speechless.

“This is not for the best? The best!” My voice increasing with every word. I slammed the divorce papers onto the floor and stormed off into what was once our shared bedroom. I grabbed a luggage bag and started stuffing clothes into it. Quickly moving back and forth from the closet to the dresser.

Hobi walked up behind me and tried to get me to stop. I lightly shoved him away. Trying to console me after handing me divorce papers seemed redundant. I was completely blindsided. We were having a hard time recently, but I didn’t think it was bad enough to get a divorce.

“[y/n] calm down for one second.” I slammed my bag shut and zipped it up. I glared at Hobi. He nearly froze.

“Why Hobi? We were trying to make this work.”

“Because for three years we’ve been pretending to be happy. Let’s face it, marriage changed us and it wasn’t for the better. I couldn’t make you happy. I wasn’t here much and after a while it caused a rift, even resentment. We’ve been arguing to the point that we don’t exist in each other’s lives.” I sat down on the bed. Everyone he said was true. I wasn’t happy and neither was he. I tried my best to make it work but we both knew it was over. I had spent nearly five years with him and in a second it was all gone.

Hobi sat on the bed next to me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder. Within seconds he started to break down. Seeing him cry made me cry.

“Hobi we tried and that’s all that matters. We tried.” I tried to compose myself. He lifted his head off my shoulder. I looked into his eyes and kissed him one last time. “I love you, but I have to go now.” Hobi sat there. I grabbed my suitcase and headed out the room.

“I love you [y/n].” He softly said. I looked back and smiled. As I walked out that front door, I knew it was the end.

Suga

Yoongi sat across from me as he held my hand. I knew what I had to do but it pained me. I had to get up and leave. Yoongi and I had just broken up but I was still consumed by the grief. I wasn’t ready to let what we had go yet. We both agreed that his touring and being away wasn’t helping our relationship. He hated long distance and so did I. We came to the conclusion that it was best to end it.

“I don’t know how to let you go Yoongi. Two years and like that we’re done.” Yoongi looked at me and smiled.

“It’s a goodbye for right now. I can’t handle the long distance. I want to be there for you, but it’s hard when I’m not there.” I suddenly frowned. I always felt as if I was a lot for Yoongi. I had my own career and couldn’t follow him around when he toured. I know staying up late video chatting didn’t make things better for him.

“We can make this work Yoongi. I can do my part more. I can come out to see you more. I want us to work.” I was nearly pleading which made me feel desperate. Yoongi started rubbing my cheek as if it was second nature.

“You did your part [y/n]. I don’t want to let you down. What we have is beautiful.” I pulled him in for a tight hug. He winced in pain because of his shoulder injury. I felt bad as I pulled away. I starred into his eyes. All I could see was the pain of having to say goodbye.

I know we didn’t say it often but I was compelled to say it. “I love you Yoongi.” Four words that I wish i would have said more often. Yoongi meant everything to me.

“I love you too.” I looked away from him trying to conceal the tears in my eyes.

“I guess this is it.” I mumbled. Yoongi moved my chin to face him. He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. He got up and left.

RM

I sat in my living room trying to force myself to eat dinner. The tears kept flowing down. It had been about a month since Namjoon and I had broken up, but the pain was still there. Suddenly, I heard a knock at my door. I got up and opened it. In front of me stood a teary eyed Namjoon.

I stepped out of the way to let him in. I closed the door and was in utter shock. Namjoon turned to me and fiercely hugged me. He moved me away.

“I know normally people don’t do this after a breakup, but I had to see you again. We didn’t get to have a proper goodbye.”

“Namjoon, I don’t think this is healthy for either of us. I am still trying to deal with the fact that wee aren’t together and this is a lot.” I got chocked up with every word. Then I exploded. I collapsed to the ground and cried my eyes out. It felt dramatic, but much needed.

Namjoon kneeled down and held me in his arms. All I could do was cry.

“I’m so sorry [y/n]. I love you.” He rubbed my arms as he soothed me.

“If you love me then why did you leave?” Those words cut me like a knife. All I wanted was Namjoon again, but he ended things and I had to accept that, a part of me wished he would to. “You have to go Joon.” He looked at me and nodded his head in agreement.

We both got up. He headed towards the door. I could barely see through the tears. I grabbed his arm and pulled him in for one last time. “Goodbye Joon.”

“Goodbye [y/n].” I let him go and watched him walk out my door. After that moment I knew I was going to be okay.

#bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts reader #bts x reader #bts #bts suga #min yoogni #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #namjoon #jhope imagine #jhope x reader #bts jhope #bts hobi #bts rm #suga x reader #suga imagine #suga #rm x reader #rm bts #rm imagine

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2022: October 14th

Day 14: Glory Hole // Humiliation // Suspension

Ezra x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit 

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving)

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“So good, Gem.” Ezra groans, pushing his hips forward and his eyes close in ecstasy, feeling the pulsing pleasure of his release pumping down your throat as you swallow around him. “Your mouth is a magnificent relief from Kevva to aid in my time of strife, needing to be worshiped.” 

He appeared one day, like all floaters, seemingly out of nowhere. Either in hurry to be somewhere else and needing to release a bit of steam - to get sucked or perhaps do the sucking. To fuck or get fucked before the lonliness of some of the planets and moons where prospectors roam is reality. 

He’s unique. Not because of the neatly pinned up sleeve where an arm used to be. Many have missing limbs or disabilities. The work is hard, dangerous and yet it is a way to eke out a living in the vastness of space. 

It’s not even the blonde tuft of hair that is shockingly different from the rest of the darker hair he wears short. You wonder if it is fake but it seems more like a mallen streak because he does not appear to be overtly vain. 

What sets him apart is his mouth. It runs, maybe nervously or maybe because he is used to hearing the sound of his own voice. It happens with prospectors who spend too much time alone. 

His voice is unique. The cadence, the verbiage, it’s all unlike what you have heard here on the Pug. Curses abound, but you have never heard them quite so flowery and yet feral in tone. 

He doesn’t know you can see him. The camera that is pointed down to the space in front of your hole is discreet, not meant to be seen. So you know that it is him every time even if you couldn’t tell from the cock or the sound of his voice. 

It’s thick and veiny - yet not quite as hard as he could be as the cock slides through the hole into view. Another appreciation you have is that the price of this particular facility includes the use a sonic shower. Always coming to you clean, which makes you that much more eager to give him pleasure. 

His groans start small when you wrap your hand around him, making sure you keep your grip loose. Weighing him and letting him ease forward more, to bring the generously full and soft sacs into the hole along with the length of his cock. Making the most delicious keening gasp when you lean forward and press your tongue to one of them while you feel him harden further in your grip. 

Whispered or hisses curses pour out of his mouth, jumbled together in a perfect litany of responses. You catch them distinctly every so often but you concentrate on the way your tongue slides over his ball and pulls it into your mouth. 

He jumps in your hand, the slap of the way making you smirk and continue to roll the sensitive flesh in your mouth, pressing your thumb to the pearl of liquid that weeps from the head of his cock and smearing it around slowly. Enjoying the way he presses further as if to beg for more. 

Your eyes flicker up to the screen, watching as his head falls back, mouth slack and you hear the low moan that follows. “Heaven is in the heat of your mouth.” He groans. “The gorgeous wetness that you grant me.” 

Still, you take your time when it is this man who is talking to you through the wall. Pouring praises into you for the heat and wetness of your mouth, the softness of your touch. Showing the same attention to the other ball in equal measure while the slickness gathers between your thighs. 

Finally your tongue touches the base of his cock, making another lovely little spurt of his pleasure spill onto your hand as you hold him. Sliding your tongue around the base and making sure it is as wet as you can make it. 

You run your tongue up and down the length, absorbing the small whimpers that he gives you. He reacts so well to you that you wonder how he would be in a normal setting. “Kevva, Gem, I need- I need to feel the sublime pleasure of your throat.” 

You smirk before you give him exactly what he wants. Taking him into your mouth and you are rewarded with a choked gasp, another slap of a palm against the wall. You feel the vibration of it as you press deeper, pushing him down past your tongue and making your eyes water. 

Skin and salt burst to life on your tastebuds. It makes you hum around him, adding to the pleasure the man beyond the wall is receiving. He had introduced himself as Ezra once during his ramblings while he had his cock down your throat. 

“Ecstasy is building, Gem.” He hisses, rocking his hips shallowly, just enough to slightly pull his cock back and push it back into the soft palate of your mouth. “You have been Kevva sent to be my redemption.” 

You swallow, another low moan and a large thrust of his hips pushes him further down your throat, making you choke slightly, although he doesn’t pull back this time. He knows you can take it, and have taken him down to where your lips wrap around the base of his thick length. 

“Gonna- gonna bring you with me.” He pants, your eyes watching as he looks down and watches his cock move in and out of the glory hole. “Keep your transcendent skills for my own felicity.” 

You close your eyes, imagining looking up at him while you are on your knees, his hand on your chin or cupping your jaw while you bob your head. Hearing those praises even more clearly while another orgasm is wrenched out of him. 

Soon the comments become babble, half breathless and filled with curses while he hardens even more. Spit runs down your chin and neck, tears run down your cheeks and you reach up to fondle his balls gently. 

“So good, Gem.” Ezra groans, pushing his hips forward and his eyes close in ecstasy, feeling the pulsing pleasure of his release pumping down your throat as you swallow around him. “Your mouth is the Promised Land, fabled to flow with honey and it does. Take it, take every drop.

You moan quietly, working him until his cock starts to soften and you pull off of him with a pop. Watching the spit and cum continue to connect him to your lips until it pulls thin and finally breaks, leaving him pressed into the glory hole and spent and satisfied. 

“Kevva.” Ezra pants, breathing heavily for a few moments before you watch his cock disappear out of the hole and can see the slight movement behind the wall that separates you as he fumbles with his pants to tuck himself away. “Next time Gem, I will have to select the option that allows you to see how talented my mouth is.” He grunts, making you shiver in anticipation of that time. 

In a moment he is gone, disappearing from your space like so many before him, making you wonder when he will return. 

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #pedro pascal #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect imagine #ezra prospect fanfiction

[blues-valentine]

Before the final season of HSMTMTS premieres I just want to talk about one of the most important scenes from last season because it really encompasses Ricky’s add, Rina and the dynamic between the OG Core 4. And the way it was filmed, was to parallel that journey.

Ricky singing Kristoff’s Lullaby, a song that says “everything I thought I did [about love] you’ve gone and changed it” which is a response to Ricky and Gina’s first duet “What Do You Know About Love?” is it. This has been Ricky and Gina’s relationship from Ricky’s perspective and arc. It’s always been about change for him. About growing up, letting go of childhood, insecurities, concepts of love.

The whole framing of this scene it’s important because this parallels auditions back in the pilot episode. The OG core 4 (Ricky, Nini, Gina and EJ) are in the same place but in very different circumstances. On the pilot, Ricky was singing a song to Nini about his feelings sort of [a song written by her, a song that couldn’t even allow them to say the word love to each other]. And Nini isn’t so thrilled by this because this is Ricky inserting himself in what she considers to be her new found space. Ricky doesn’t even like musicals. EJ, Nini’s boyfriend, was by her side, absolutely not thrilled about it, of course, this is Nini’s ex just serenating her and it awakes his own insecurities. On the other side of the stage, there’s Gina watching him, at first she was so bored but then her eyes spark at Ricky’s song because it’s something new. Gina doesn’t get intrigued but Ricky intrigues her. He feels so out of place but he has something she’s never seen. And this is the start of their dynamic, and for all of these characters in a nutshell.

On 308, we have a similar scene but switched a bit. We have Ricky singing to someone. But this time, to Gina and it's not in her face, like he did it with Nini. He is not intruding in her space – he spends the whole season trying not walk over her own boundaries. For her and EJ. This is a Ricky that is sure about his place in theater and it’s doing it for himself. A lead role he actually put effort on. It’s Ricky singing a song about love, about meeting someone that changes everything for you, including the ways you used to view love. Gina is the representation of change. She’s been called this way multiple occasions. Ricky used to view love in a very consuming way. It’s all or nothing, even if sometimes it intrudes on boundaries. Even if by keeping that love so tight it changes you but not for a better version of yourself. Even if holding to it it’s stopping your from growing. Gina came into his life to tell him that changes can be good, that doing things for yourself are good. If a love is meant to be it will be. And he looks at Gina. Who, like before, was standing at the side of the stage. And she knows that line it’s for her. Gina knows exactly what Ricky is trying to tell her. But we also have Nini, who Ricky knows is watching too, they told him this before. But he is singing to Gina. Nini is not in his mind. But the fact that she is there makes that concept very clear. Nini is there watching him with pride because she can see too how much he has changed as a person and now belongs. And at the other side of the stage there's EJ, who’s basically on a similar situation as before but this time he knows is inevitable and he won’t do anything to sabotage that like he did before. He walks away. He knows he has.

Tim Federle loves its full circle moments and Season 4 will give us a lot of those. But this whole thing brings me to his recent interview where he says this is the first time Ricky and Gina are in love together because sometimes your first love is not exactly what you think love is. We often think our first love it's the standard of love and then comes someone that teaches you how to love. This is what Gina is to Ricky. (And I’ve made countless post about it X X X)

Nini and Ricky’s love was special but it was not helping them grow up, you could feel since the pilot how out of sync they actually were and neither of them wanted to admit that because their romance was attached to their childhood memories none of them were ready to let go. Nini was more ready to let go than Ricky was. Gina pushed Ricky to contemplate aspects of his life - and the reality that he needed to move forward and accept that things have to come the way they will come and he can't hold onto them. The song "Second Change" is also a song that summarizes the OG Core 4 arcs. For Nini, it's always been about finding her self self away for the image she created around Ricky. For Ricky, it was accepting changes, to embrace them. For Gina, it's about not running when things get too hard and finding where she belongs. For EJ, is about finding his own way outside of his parents expectations. That’s it. That’s the story. And if you didn’t see it…

#rina hsmtmts #hsmtmts #hsmtmts season 4 #hsmtmts s4 #ricky x gina #gina porter #ricky bowen #ej caswell #nini salazar roberts #rina #text post #high school musical the musical the series

[rainbowchewynuggets]

TMA Encore #11a

The group walks timorously through the tunnels with Not-Martin. Sasha has the map this time. Jon and Tim bring up the rear with Tim holding the flashlight. Martin, in the middle, cautiously occupies the space between them and Not-Martin. He has the second flashlight.

Not-Martin recounts the day he and Not-Jon first realized they had a second chance and a duty to prevent the apocalypse. They reasoned that if they couldn’t stop what had happened to their world from in the thick of it, they would have a better shot coming at it from the outside. They had tried to be subtle at first, so as not to disrupt the lives of those involved. Despite their best efforts, it ended just as badly as before. So, they tried again and have been trying ever since. They became more and more adamant until they were inserting themselves right in the middle of things–with little more success. It took them a long time to figure out how the rules they knew applied to their situation. They hadn’t realized there was a new consequence for overtaking avatars.

NM: I couldn’t feel it until his hold over it started to slip. By then, it was too late.

Silence fills the corridor as the team studies Not-Martin. They let his story settle into the air, waiting to see what he’ll say if he thinks it wasn’t enough to convince them. He says nothing and keeps walking, not even looking at them.

Jon: But the Fears aren’t controlling him. That’s not how it works. He’s doing this himself.

NM: It’s the pain. Without an entire world of people to feed on, the Fears are starving to death. They pass the feeling on to us to motivate us. I don’t think they’re picky about which of us gets to be their avatar at this point, but Jon’s been keeping their attention on him this whole time.

Sasha: Why?

NM: To spare me and hold himself accountable for what happened at the end.

Sasha: No, I mean… I can understand pain making a person a little irrational. But this is so premeditated and extreme.

NM: That’s the problem. He thinks that he’s mastered it. So he takes warning signs as encouragement. To feel assured that he’s still himself.

Martin recalls the time he spent with his mother through her chronic illness. She had often worded it exactly that way when he couldn’t get her to rest. Not-Martin slips a knowing glance at him.

Tim: And manipulating and tormenting people is just part of retaining his fundamental character, apparently.

The words are already out by the time Tim remembers Jon is walking right beside him in the dark.

Tim: I just–I meant that he didn’t have to do it this way.

Not-Martin doesn’t reply.

Martin’s double further exposits that Not-Jon can’t be allowed to pursue his goal any further than he already has. Even if he does manage to prevent the apocalypse, the vacuum created by the consumed avatars would inevitably be too much. He would fully succumb to the need to satisfy his hunger.

Tim: And he’ll, what, become as big a fear monster as Jonah?

NM: Oh, he’s already a lot bigger than Jonah. I’m terrified to think what that much power would look like manifested. That is, if he doesn’t die first and leave it all with me.

Tim: Joy.

Sasha: So, what’s your solution?

NM: Convince him to share the burden with me and entomb the both of us in the nearest, deepest hole in the ground before anything else can happen.

Tim: So, your original plan. Which you’ve tried before?

NM: Many times.

Tim: And why will it work now?

NM: Because it’s the only option. It’s just a matter of trial and error.

Tim: Uh-huh. Then again, if you’re a Fear ghost like him, then we shouldn’t be listening to what either of you say, should we?

NM: *shrugs* I’d agree if I didn’t know that my Jon has it a hundred times worse than I do. Your odds with me are much better.

Tim: Which could be a lie.

NM: If it were, you’d have no reason to believe any of what I’ve said so far.

He answers the interrogation readily and casually, though not as if he’d rehearsed it.

Jon shakes off his precaution to ask a burning question.

Jon: Am I really what makes things fall apart every time?

NM: I’m sure that my Jon would like you to think so. It’s much more complicated than that. He’s just punishing you for things you haven’t done yet.

A little irritation creeps into his voice. It’s also the first plainly obfuscated thing he’s said so far, Jon notices.

Jon: It never made a difference to remove me from the equation?

NM: Again, it’s complicated. We ended up agreeing not to.

The group continues to ask questions about the details and history of the situation, especially things that Not-Jon prescribed to them as truth and things that he refused to tell them. Not-Martin answers all of it politely and patiently enough, giving no sign of duress or deception. There are no earth-shattering revelations. It only cements the places where Not-Jon and Not-Martin’s perspectives overlap. Whether or not he’s telling the truth, it’s comforting to get clear answers without the immediate pressure to cooperate for once. In fact, it gets Sasha’s attention.

Sasha: Are we… expected to help in your plan?

NM: No. It doesn’t really matter what any of you do from this point forward.

They ask him to elaborate. He says that their part in Not-Jon’s plan is over. In scenarios where they stay in the tunnels or the archives, they’re penned so that they can’t interfere. When they leave, they’re unable to change the outcome at all and are left to deal with Jonah’s machinations once he escapes. There’s nothing they can do.

Tim: Wait, yes we can. Don’t we still have the lighter?

Everyone turns to Jon. As he wraps his fingers loosely around the device still in his pocket, he feels the tiny piece of plastic he took from Jonah’s office. He nods.

Tim: If the fuse is long enough, we could light the dynamite on our way out and do away with the lot of them while they’re chasing each other around down there.

Not-Martin scratches his chin thoughtfully.

NM: I can’t say it’s been done before. But I won’t object as long as I’m down there with them.

Sasha: Have we tried it before?

NM: Yes.

The group’s optimism deflates.

NM: Sorry. I’m not sure what gets in the way. I don’t usually stop to talk to you guys.

Martin: Have you come close before?

NM: Very.

Martin: How? It sounds like he’d be untouchable at this point.

NM: Because he can’t scare me. None of this does anymore.

Martin studies his counterpart. It’s not just talk. He’s steady. Dispassionate, but not overly calm. The determination with which he described his task betrayed a steep understanding of the consequences for failure. Yet, he approaches the ordeal ahead as if going to do laundry. It’s kind of terrifying. Martin feels like he’s watching an alien creature walk around with his face painted on it. His memories inside it. Although, wouldn’t it make sense to need an alien to combat an alien threat? He wonders if this is how Jon felt meeting his other self.

He checks on Jon, who has his eyes turned toward the tunnels as they pass. Martin just then notices how deep and rhythmic the murmuring noise has become. Almost like chugging movement.

~

The group arrives at the dynamite area. There are still boxes strewn about with leftover materials in them–including plenty of fuse that could be tied on. The tunnel leading out is situated opposite some others that lead down to the Panopticon. The four of them nonverbally determine that it’s time to decide whether to stay or go. Meanwhile, Not-Martin examines the prison remains, looking for anomalies.

The vote is not as quick as before.

Martin, unexpectedly, is the one to pipe up first. He wants to stay and try to stop Not-Jon. He feels that the stakes are too steep not to try. Tim and Sasha argue against it, and he defends his choice. Not-Jon could easily stop the dynamite from working just as he stopped them from escaping. Whether Jonah escapes or doesn’t, they’re likely doomed if they just leave. They’re stuck no matter what. He doesn’t want to feel like he didn’t try to push back when he could have, especially after everything Not-Jon has put them through already. At the very least, it would give him another thing to have to manage.

Martin’s voice shakes even as he says it out loud, but he manages to hold himself in place.

Tim is quick to remind him that they don’t have a hearty reason to trust Not-Martin. Martin proclaims that he might then be trying to get rid of them. The one thing they can say for certain is that Jonah and Not-Jon are too dangerous to be left to their own devices.

His anxiety prompts him to keep talking, but he makes himself leave it there.

Jon quickly says that he’s staying too.

The others fall into silence. Sasha visibly wavers in two minds before letting out her breath.

Tim: Sasha, no.

Sasha: Yeah, I’m sorry. I think I’m with Martin. But just barely.

She says she’s getting tired of trying to take the safe route on purpose, only for them to wind up getting separated and nearly killed anyway. If there is no good sane way out, as Martin had said, their only way is through.

To be fair, Tim does look at them as if they’ve all gone insane.

Tim: I’m not saying we do nothing. Even he knows it--*gestures at Not-Martin* --we’re not gonna be able to do anything about this if we’re in the middle of it. If the dynamite doesn’t work, we’ll find another way.

NM: No, you won’t.

Tim: You be quiet.

Try as he might, Tim can’t convince them to change their minds. He stands there, unable to follow but unwilling to leave them behind to die.

The vague rumbling ramps up and draws close. The walls around them begin to shift, but not like in an earthquake. Stone and cement slide frictionlessly over one another with heavy clicking sounds. The floor is perfectly stable aside from some vibrations. The walls of the exit tunnel and the one they came from advance inward, herding the occupants further into the junction of passages. Not-Martin glares at someone who’s not in the room.

NM: Oh, goddamn it, Jon.

Jon leaps through a nearby passage before it closes.

Goddamn it, Jon, Martin thinks.

The others move to catch him, but there isn’t enough clearance by the time he gets there. The clamorous stone is so loud, they can’t hear each other. But they can make out Jon mouthing “I’m sorry” in the feeble light of the spider web lighter just before the gap closes.

------------

Next

Prev

First

(I forgot what I was doing and gave Sasha the second flashlight in the third page. Pretend Martin has it.)

Index

#the magnus archives #mag200 spoilers #magnus pod #tma fancomic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #not-martin #the spiral #tma encore 11 #tma encore 11a #cw blood #cw claustrophobia

[svhnflwr]

%! the kissing game — k-i-s-s-i-n-g event

× johnny suh: “Let’s put our hands behind our backs while making out and see who gives in to touch the other first.”

INCLUDES! fluff, descriptive kissing, established relationship, implicit suggestive content (very slight)

NOTES! ok this is actually a prompt i saw on ig and ngl im kinda fed up with this event alr so i just decided to end it with this instead (doubling on johnny lol oops) but tbh this is such a good way to end it I CAN FINALLY START MY 100 EVENT and other wips collecting dust rn

WORD COUNT! 578

“Let’s put our hands behind our backs while making out and see who gives in to touch the other first.”

Your eyes almost popped out of your skull when the words finally processed in your head. You dramatically turned your head towards your long-term boyfriend, Johnny, giving him a look that he would probably copy and ridicule you for it for the next 10 years. Your mouth opened and closed, wanting to say something but nothing came out. Maybe your brain was still processing what he said. 

“...Sorry?” was all that came out. Johnny knew that you heard him perfectly. Though he still repeated himself, noting how fidgety you became due to how flustered you felt at his request a second time. You were so cute in his eyes. 

The second time around you realized that this man was not kidding. You heard his words loud and clear, and quite frankly the idea he proposed excited you. 

More than excited.

There was no word in the world you could use to describe it. But it was a unique mix of everything you were feeling; nervous, excited, flustered, curious, and competitive. 

Though you had a hidden voice at the back of your head telling you that you would lose no matter what, you were curious how long it would take. Or even if Johnny was actually more madly in love with you than you thought. That thought alone made your stomach flutter. Maybe the idea was much better than you initially thought. 

With both of your bodies now seated on the couch, legs crossed and facing each other. Johnny first put his arms behind his back, motioning you to mirror his actions. You slowly followed suit, that odd mix of emotions swirling inside your stomach once again. Before starting, you looked into his eyes, noting how his pupils slowly consumed his irises.

You hoped he felt that same mix of feelings as you.

And he did.

He wasn’t sure what took over him to propose such a wild request to you, but something in him was eager to try. Contrary to your thoughts, he was confident that he would give in first, completely against his will. Not because he was about to let you win a challenge that he requested, but because he knew that when it came to you, he went a little crazy. 

“Ready?”

“Mhm.” 

And with that, the two of you leaned closer to the other, the familiar feeling of lips touching washed over you. You and Johnny kissed a lot. It was something you two often did because you simply couldn’t get off each other’s faces that easily; to the members’ despise. 

Your lips danced with each other like it was choreographed yet it was a freestyle with unbelievable synchronization. It came very naturally.

Meant to be. 

Perfect.

You weren’t sure how you did it. Whenever Johnny turned to one side, you simultaneously turned to the other. His breath fanned your lips as you separated for a fraction of a moment. His teeth graced your bottom lip before they connected again. The soft tingling sensation from his teeth lingered as you felt warmth overtake you. You felt his lashes tickle your cheek as you began to smile into the moment. 

And you were so into the kiss, that you failed to notice the pair of hands that held onto you desperately, trying to melt into your lips even more. 

If that was even virtually possible. 

#ficscafe #nct 127 #nct #johnny suh #nct 127 x reader #nct x reader #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct fluff #nct fics #nct 127 fics #johnny suh fics #johnny suh suggestive #sfw

[haradasaya]

Lovely and the Piano

Here is the fic in its entirety, in case that's easier !

Lovely had never understood why Vincent always said that his house was far too big, how sounds always seemed to echo endlessly through the walls and all around. Now that Lovely was a vampire, they understood what he’d meant. Their new hearing and senses made even the smallest spaces in the house seem big—seem empty. Empty in the way spaces only were when your brain and body could comprehend exactly how much space wasn’t being filled. It was a void, inside and out—a void only something undead could comprehend with the absence of a beating heart.

It was an odd reflection of the way they saw themselves, Lovely realized slowly. The way the house seemed too big and too empty in the same way they felt too big and too empty inside. It made everything melancholy, and they understood why vampires in the media they’d consumed their entire human life were in a constant state of mourning. It’s because they were.

And then there was Vincent—the enigma to this reasoning. Despite his little comments about the house being too big, despite the circumstances behind his turning and all his lonely memories and the last twenty years he’d spent on his own, he wasn’t burdened with the melancholy that seemed to plague Lovely lately. Vincent was no longer mourning.

He’d left them alone a while ago, letting them sip on their blood bags in peace. They had come to terms with drinking them, reassured only by the fact that it was sustenance and if they couldn’t really eat their favorite foods anymore at least they could still have a full stomach. 

And then a set of three notes rang out through the house. Lovely was up in a flash, listening through walls and doors and space to hear Vincent play the piano. He must be adjusting his chair, or tuning the pedals, because he only played those few notes, and then silence stretched over the house.

Their bare feet pad softly over the hardwood floors, and down the stairs until the piano in the front room came into view. It was a beautiful Grand piano—Steinway & Sons—that William had gifted him when he discovered that Vincent liked to play. He’d always joked that it was more of a hobby, and that he didn’t need a giant piano for a casual pastime, but Lovely always noticed the care he took of it. It never got dusty, the strings were always in tune, and more and more sheet music found its way into the storage below the bench.

Vincent had his eyes closed, hands poised over the keys to begin playing at any moment. Lovely watched with held breath as his nimble fingers twitched in anticipation. He waited another moment before starting his song.

Lovely recognized it, something he’d played before, but not often, not enough to remember the name. It might come to them in a moment. His fingers seemed to dance over the ivory keys, his body swaying in rhythm to the sound being produced, keeping himself in time. Vincent had always commented on his stiffness, something he felt he acquired after turning, something about the stillness that came from not breathing, or the fact that they were technically undead. But watching him here, playing so beautifully, so languidly, it made him seem alive again. With the absence of his mourning, came the return of his humanity.

He cracked open an eye to see Lovely peering from behind the wall; afraid to interrupt him, and yet wanting him to continue playing. When their eyes met, Lovely sheepishly emerged from their corner to take a seat on the couch in the room. Vincent gave them a small smile, but his fingers didn’t stop making his music. He knew his partner remained out of sight to prevent him from being distracted, so he pressed on—easy to do so when he had memorized this piece long ago. He noticed the way Lovely’s face lit up whenever he played it, how each time this song played they’d come sneak in a glance or two: as if to immerse themselves in it. So he memorized the entire piece for them. It lit a warmth in his undead heart for his hard work to pay off tonight, and as he’d predicted, his Lovely had come to see.

Lovely noticed how Vincent’s lip curled up softly. Was he thinking of them? Lovely hoped so, entranced by this wonderful man and the person he was, hoping he saw them in a similar light.

The transition from verse to chorus filled the room, filled the space around them and between them. Lovely watched him with admiration for the skill he’d developed. He had said he liked to play piano, but it had been just a hobby. This wasn’t a hobby. Chock it up to vampirically-enhanced memory, or the control he had over his body all you like, but this type of music was born of passion and passion alone. It was evident that he loved the piano.

Lovely thought back to all the nights they’d spend in the library at DAMN, working on assignments with dark academia piano music playing in their earbuds. Had Vincent heard them listening to that? Had he played this song because they liked it? Those memories stirred in their heart, remembering all those dates, all those study sessions in that damn library.

They remembered the time he’d helped them study for their psychokinesis final, wanting to impress him with their abilities. They remembered the way he’d reward them with kisses for getting answers right on their electrokinesis prep. They remembered the time they snuck into the janitors closet to have some alone time, pulling off each other’s shirts and—

“What are you thinking about?” Vincent suddenly asked, fingers continuing to fly deftly on monochromatic keys. They looked at him, from the opposite side of the piano, and realized instantly they were recalling some naughty memories. Lovely forces down a smile, knowing that he’d already seen it, probably thinking the same thing they had been.

“Just you.” They say, pulling their leg up onto the couch by them. Vincent raises an eyebrow, then hums, looking down for a brief moment to play the trill, and then the beginning of the bridge. When his eyes met theirs again, he’d moved into the final verse, being close to completion. The smile on Lovely’s face made him pause, reflecting back on everything they’d been through together. He really did love them, even through all that had happened, even through the inversion that led to their turning, he loved them. And he marveled that he’d get to do so for the rest of eternity.

“Music makes you reminisce, you know that?” Lovely said, as he finished his song. “You get a faraway look in your eyes, and you think about the past.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

Lovely stood then, making their way to stand behind him on the piano bench, and then wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “I know you, Vince. You’re a poet, through and through.”

Vincent smiled then, and wrapped a hand around theirs, pulling it to his lips to kiss their knuckles. Lovely chuckled softly, before kissing his temple. “I’m a poet, you say?”

Lovely sighed, placing their head on his shoulder. “Don’t you even think about it—” But Vincent had thought about it, and before Lovely could plug their ears or get away, he’d locked their wrist in place against his chest, and with gusto began reciting lines from Romeo and Juliet, loudly declaring his love. He dropped the octave of his voice, so to add more humor, before laughing at Lovely’s state of defeat. They joined him in his laughter when he’d finished his moving speech, shaking their head playfully.

“You’re a menace.” They joked. 

Vincent had the audacity to look appalled. “But I thought I was a poet? I was only fulfilling my role!”

Lovely let out a real laugh at that, and Vincent smiled. That was a lovely sound too, right in his ear: as if it could simply skip through his brain and go straight to his heart. He turned to look at them, only to find they were already staring at him. And then he leaned in for a kiss, which Lovely returned wholeheartedly. He ran small circles over their arm where he’d held them in place with his thumb, pouring his love into his kiss.

When they parted, Vincent couldn’t keep the smile off his face, and Lovely raised an eyebrow. “Now what are you thinking about?”

Vincent didn’t want to admit he wanted to take them back up to their room and show them all the ways he loved and admired them, so instead he made a bit of room on the piano bench and gestured for them to sit by him. They did as he asked, fitting themselves on the bench beside him. They both sat facing the piano, Lovely practically sitting on Vincent’s lap just to fit. He laughed, and readjusted them so now he was behind them, and they sat closest to the piano.

“What do you say I teach you a bit, hm?”

Lovely, who had never been able to play anything other than Mary had a little lamb, visibly stiffened at the offer. “I’m not in the mood to embarrass myself tonight.”

Vincent scoffed, running his hands up their thighs to gather their wrists in his arms. “Oh come on Lovely, you aren’t going to ruin the piano if you touch it or anything.” He paused, still sensing their hesitation. “I’ll teach you something simple, something you’ll master quickly. And we can stop any time you want.”

Lovely swallowed, unsure but willing to try. They quickly realized that this was going to be bad, that they weren’t going to be able to play at the same level as Vincen. But they were willing to try, and if Vincent was willing to share something he was passionate about, they didn’t want to miss out on the experience.

“Okay, so this song is relatively simple. I’ll play it first so that you can get the hang of it.” Lovely watched as Vincent placed his nimble fingers on the keys again, making sure they were watching and ready to play—before he started playing Twinkle twinkle little star . Lovely huffed and rolled their eyes, laughing at themselves for not expecting something like that from him.

“What are you laughing at? This is a perfectly acceptable beginner’s piece, you jerk.”

The two laughed again, but Lovely gave in and let Vincent guide their hands back on the keys, in place to play the first few notes.

“Okay, so I don’t know how familiar you are with the names of the keys, or how to read sheet music—”

“I’m not.” Lovely chuckled, and Vince huffed a laugh.

“Okay… so we’ll start with the basics. This is C, the very middle of the piano. Most of the time, we’ll start here, especially when you’re first learning.”

He placed their thumb on the C key, and Lovely pressed it, making that note ring out through the room. Lovely’s eyes sparked at the sound, as if with just that one note, their whole world got a bit bigger. “Whoa,” they said, smiling wide.

Vincent smiled back, enjoying the glimmer of fascination in their eyes. “Good. So that is the first note in our song.” He pressed the key twice, before moving his hand to the next note. “This is the G key, our next two notes.”

He waited for Lovely to move their hands to that key, and then play it twice, before nodding in approval. “Perfect. Now play those two together.”

Lovely moved their thumb back down the piano, resting on the D key. Vincent smiled, and moved their finger over one more key. Lovely laughed as if they’d made a mistake. “Ugh, see, I’m so bad at this—”

“No you’re not.” He cut them off before they could spiral into a pit of self-deprecation. “You’re still learning, and we just started, it’s okay to make mistakes.”

He placed a gentle kiss on their cheek, before nodding down at the notes. “Okay, try and play those two notes again, right after the other.”

Lovely exhaled sharply, steadying themselves. With their fingers now in place, they played the first two notes, and then slowly made their way to that G key he’d shown them earlier. Vincent smiled when they did it right. “See! That was perfect, good job Lovely.”

They smiled, and looked over their shoulder at him. “Thank you babe.” Turning back to the piano, they smiled. “Okay, I’m going to do it one more time, just to make sure I’ve got it.”

Vincent only nodded, letting them find the keys on their own this time. When they put their finger on the right key, he hummed in approval. Within a few more tries, they were able to move their fingers to the right notes with ease. They moved on to the next set of notes, and within a few tries were able to play those too. Vincent sat and taught—patiently, and with all the grace his piano teacher didn’t have with him when he was first learning—until Lovely was able to play the song all the way through. Their few mistakes eventually rounded out, and Twinkle twinkle little star was no longer a mystery to them.

“That’s amazing, Lovely. I’m so proud of you.” 

They smiled back at him, practically beaming. “Thank you. This was so fun, you should teach me some other songs sometime.” 

Vincent wraps his arms around Lovely, kissing their temple. “Anytime baby. You have no idea how happy it makes me that you’re interested in learning something that I enjoy. Getting to spend time with you, playing piano, making music with you—it’s… almost unreal.”

Lovely hummed, pleased. “I’m glad you think so.” They paused. “And I totally knew you cared more about this than you let on, you tease.”

Vincent scoffed, feigning hurt. “I never said I didn’t like to play piano, I just said it was a hobby of mine.”

Lovely laughed then, obviously not falling for that lie. “It has to be more of a hobby if you’re able to teach me how to play.”

Vincent tilted his head to be able to see into their eyes. “Okay, first of all, anyone can teach anyone how to play Twinkle twinkle little star , it’s like the easiest song to play on the piano.”

Lovely leaned back into his chest. “You’re talking to someone who barely knew how to play Mary had a little lamb . What you did is amazing, Vince. I’m just saying, you should be proud of this talent.”

He exhaled through his nose, a gentle sigh that tickled Lovely’s hair against their neck. “Well, I appreciate the compliment. But still, all this was just a hobby. I just picked up a few songs here and there, and I played them until I could do them perfectly.”

“You never had any training?” They inquired, which was a perfectly innocent question with a perfectly dark answer.

“I… I did when I was younger. Had the worst instructor there ever was though. Not a great time in my youth, let’s put it that way.”

Lovely turned back to him. “That sounds horrible. People who treat children that way, even in the name of developing an amazing talent, are horrible people. I’m sorry Vince.”

He only nodded. Lovely laid their head on his shoulder. “But, if you had such a bad experience, why did you keep playing?”

He rested his head atop theirs, sitting on the piano bench still in front of the massive instrument. “Because I loved my mom. And I loved playing piano. Even through the torture of it, I wanted to make her happy. We didn’t always have much, and those piano lessons put us in a hard place. But my mom always wanted me to learn an instrument, and I did too. Enduring those terrible lessons and getting good at playing regardless of how I was treated was the only way I knew how to pay her back for that sacrifice she made for us.”

Lovely was silent for a moment, before they hummed. “So it’s always been about love.”

Vincent nodded. “Yeah. I guess that’s why Will got me this, after all that time of not playing. Right after I turned, I had no love left in me, no hope left after leaving my old life behind.”

He twists his neck to kiss the top of Lovely’s head. “But then I met you. And love wasn’t so hard to reach anymore. I started talking to William more, started to open up about those things I’d kept to myself for years. I told him about that love for music I’d pushed down forever, and that’s all it took. He got me the piano, had this room built just for it. And since then I've been practicing again. All because of you.”

Lovely chuckled. “Sure, sure, lover boy. If you picked it back up, it’s because it was always inside of you. I didn’t give you that, I just helped you rediscover that which was already in you.”

He squeezes them tighter. “Yes, you did. It’s alright to admit that, Lovely. Besides, even if you don’t want to take credit, you can’t deny that you’re as beautiful as the music I play.”

Lovely was glad vampires didn’t blush, because that was too cute. “Vince…” they whispered.

“It's true!” He reinforced. “You’re like my harmony, completing me with your sound. And what a wonderful sound it is.”

Lovely squirmed under his touch, embarrassed by his sweet words. The language of music was foreign to them, but it was still beautiful to hear rolling off his tongue. He held them in place, preventing them from falling off the bench, or getting away. When Lovely realized escape was futile, they nestled back into his arms.

“How about we do a little more practicing, hm?”

Vincent chuckled low in their ear, a sound that sent shivers down their spine. “Sure. But don’t think you’re getting out of this talk. I have plenty of music innuendos to make on your behalf—”

Lovely cut him off by playing those first notes of Twinkle twinkle little star , stopping his joke short and instead laughing outright at their embarrassment. By the time they’d played it through once without error, Vincent placed his hands on the keyboard, outside of their hand, whispering to play it again. They started the song again, and was immediately awed to hear him add in his own variations and liberties. Lovely didn’t know how to explain the way his fingers moved, finding more harmonies within their simple notes, playing bass and treble chords with his other hand. Hearing them play together, this simple song he’d taught them not ten minutes ago, became something of a symphony that had Lovely breathless. Their Vincent could do that—make new music like that—with all they knew how to do. It made them wonder how many other things were that way in their relationship—how often Vince carried in their lack, or how often Lovely helped Vincent where he needed it.

At that moment, they gained a tiny glimpse of why Vincent was no longer in a state of mourning. He’d found something that filled that space—not only filled it, but expanded it with color until that light had no choice but to shine through, till he was the light in this dark space. And music was his key.

And he would be theirs.

When Lovely neared the end of their song, Vincent’s playing reached a crescendo, before slowly ebbing away into the finale, which ended shortly after Lovely did. He kept his foot on the pedal that elongated the notes, and eventually that silence filled the room again.

Only this time, it didn’t seem so big anymore.

“I love you,” Lovely said quickly, not wanting the magic of this moment to end yet. 

Vincent smiled, lifting one of his hands off the keyboard to Lovely’s cheek, turning their head so that he could kiss them, a deep and passionate kiss that reflected the intensity of the song they had just shared. Vincent didn’t need to say it, but they knew that he loved them too. And he did anyway.

“I love you too, Lovely. With all the passion this soul allows, I am yours, forever.”

#redacted lovely #redacted vincent #redacted william #vincent solaire #redacted asmr #redactedverse #piano

[bb-editing]

ROXANA (Chapter 22)

“Sister!”

As I was exiting Cassis’ room, I ran into Jeremy, who had been running towards me from the end of the hallway.

“Is that blood on your clothes?” He moved towards me with more urgency. Oh. The blood.

I wiped my damp sleeve over my cheek deliberately, smearing blood onto my cheek. “Ah… The toy didn’t listen well, so I punished him.”

“Oh, I’m gonna avoid that son of a bitch.”

Fortunately, Jeremy bought my lie- he seemed more interested in my punishing Cassis, in fact.

Every Agriche child ingests poison from young, but none of us know what kind of poison or what side effects they’d experience, so they couldn’t use the information against each other.

Of course, I don’t think that Jeremy would use it against me if he found out.

“Sister, I think it would be better if you stop rubbing it. I don’t want your clothes stained permanently with that bastard’s dirty blood.”

“Alright. I’ll go wash up.” I paused. “But what are you doing here? Were you coming to see me?”

“Well, yeah, but you weren’t in your room.”

I stepped towards Jeremy, who suddenly sniffed. “Did you go visit the poison butterfly hatchery again?”

I was embarrassed. How did he smell it?

“You just smell like poison, that’s all.” Jeremy said, seemingly having read my thoughts. Not that I was trying to keep the hatchery a secret, but making it public knowledge would create more variables and uncertainties in my life that I didn’t particularly want to deal with.

“Yes,” I answered slightly defeatedly, “I stopped by a while ago.”

No matter how faint it was, I suppose the smell of poison had remained on my body for some time already. It wasn’t suprising for Jeremy to be able to withstand its effects, with the Agriche poison tolerance and all, but… Why didn’t Cassis react to it at all?

I made a mental note not to visit the greenhouse before visiting Cassis.

“Do you think it will hatch successfully this time?” Jeremy, who was walking next to me, asked politely. “Why haven’t you thrown the egg away already? Or given it to someone else?”

I remembered his comments from our last discussion about the topic; Jeremy was never supportive of my breeding the butterflies. When I’d first received the eggs, he pretended to hold one clumsily and drop it accidentally, though he’d obviously wanted to let it go and break it from the start.

“Jeremy, if you try and interfere again, I’ll become very angry.”

“It’s not that!” Jeremy cried angrily. He seemed to be slightly scared of my punishment for his previous mistake. “I just don’t want you to lose so much blood for something that’s bound to fail…” he muttered. “They’re monsters- parasites! They’re not worth it.”

It’s not like he didn’t have cause for concern. If by chance, the butterflies’ master was no longer able to feed them their blood, the butterflies would turn to consuming their master’s body instead.

Sigh. I raised my hand, but stopped. “I would pat you on the head, but my hands are bloody.”

“It’s okay, I can always wash it off.” He answered. I laughed a little and stroked his head as we walked up the stairs to my room.

But what Jeremy said was wrong. I hadn’t failed- indeed, I’d succeeded in hatching a poison butterfly egg.

* * *

Cassis studied the closed door with harder eyes than before. The sight of Roxana’s back as she left seemed to remain despite her faint footsteps getting quieter in the distance.

He finally lowered his head in silence with a frown. Despite the appetizing meal in front of him, his appetite had been ruined by Roxana’s words and actions from earlier. ‘Vomiting blood is considered normal in this house,’ he thought. ‘How could she say that so obliviously?’

Cassis often felt strange when he was around Roxana. Was it because of the faint smell of poison he smelt on her body? The smell of poison meant one of two things- either she was ill, or she had been poisoned. Cassis couldn’t figure out which, but he knew that she’d been in this state for a while- even since the first time they’d met in the dungeon.

Then, he suddenly remembered her words…

#roxana agriche #roxana agreche #roxana #reincarnation #reincarnation manhwa #romance manhwa #romance #fantasy manhwa #korean manhwa #manhwa #cassis #cassis pedelian #korean webnovel #korean webtoon #webnovel #webtoon #web novel #editing #isekai #villainess isekai #isekai manhwa #pedelian #sylvia pedelian #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #light novel #lanche agriche #korean manga #korean novel #sylvia #jeremy agriche

[rantbunyey]

A little bit of a rocky week. Emotionally and mentally exhausted. It’s tough dealing with depression, but that’s not really news to anyone. I do have people who look out for me, I know this, but it doesn’t keep me from feeling alone.

The last thing I want to do is come off as a lonely person who clings on to others just because I’m lonely. That’s honestly far from the case. People who know me know that I wear my heart on a sleeve, and bare my soul even when I shouldn’t.

There’s often a lot of frustration for me. I feel like I spend a lot of time looking after other people, but I can count on one hand the number of times a month someone actually asks me how I’m doing, beyond as a simple greeting. Truth is, I’m not okay most of the time, but people rarely want to hear that either. Sometimes I just need a hug, but those are far and in between. I just feel so lost and empty sometimes. I don’t expect any one person to fix that, but I do think that having people I care about tends to help me focus my goals and find purpose.

I’m suddenly thinking back to an old teacher of mine who took his own life. I know he was lonely and didn’t have people to care, but I recall talking into the void to him. I wished him the best in the next life, and told myself that I could never do that to the people in my life. A few years ago, a good friend also took their own life. That was so difficult, and I didn’t know how to process it. I just felt empty. Another of my close friends told me that they felt alone in it, because I didn’t seem to care the same. It hurt me a lot, because people in my life are my sole motivation some days. I just… don’t process grief the same ways as others I suppose. It’s beyond just being sad. I was so drained that I couldn’t express sadness, anger, anything. But to others it looked like I didn’t care, at least not until I could cry again. That other close friend of mine is now also consumed with depression over various things. They’ve talked about not wanting to be alive anymore, and it hurt me so much more than I was able to express. I know the chance of them doing something dumb is low, but I can’t help but worry. If I lost this friend, I don’t know how I would carry on. This is one of the most important people in my life and the thought of being without them scares me.

I know that humans adapt. If I lost everything today, could I survive? Sure. But I’d continue being empty. Even more empty. It scares me.

I’ve been meeting with a therapist every few weeks to talk things through. I don’t know if it’s helping. I just rant a bit like I do here, then my time is up. I do like that therapist though. I was just finally getting comfortable with her but…

She’s transferring me to someone else. She’s going on leave, and says that if things don’t work out with the new therapist she can take me back when she returns. Still, it’s set up as a permanent move. I know it’s not meant to be personal, but I couldn’t help but feel a bit abandoned. I have major abandonment issues, I’ve come to realize. Which is almost funny, because well…

제가 좋아하는 여자가 있습니다. I’ve talked about her, but I also know that she… has some commitment issues. Perfect match, ammirite?

I’m bouncing back and forth. Some days I am prepared for the worst. Other days I’m optimistic. Other days, I just… don’t have the ability to process or look forward to anything. I’m looking forward to seeing her. I intend to tell her how I feel, even if it’s casually letting her know. As I said before, I don’t think there’s any way that she doesn’t know already, but I’ve never actually told her. I know I need to be ready to get turned down. In fact, I expect it even if the feelings are mutual. I just… don’t know what to do after that. It leaves me wondering if I just shouldn’t say anything at all, but I know myself. If I don’t say anything, I’ll regret it and it will absolutely consume me. So it may hurt if I get turned down, but… it’s better to know I suppose. I feel like I’m too old for this. Too old to have someone make me feel this happy, and to worry that I’ll be heartbroken the next moment. I know that I tend to fall for people who are almost out of reach, but I’m stubborn. I like her so much, and I don’t find myself being remotely interested in anyone else in comparison. So this could absolutely break me.

But I already feel broken a lot of the time. People say I’m not broken, just need to work on a few things. I’m losing sight of what that means though. Life is hard. I know others have certain things worse, but I almost forget what it’s like to be happy sometimes. I know people don’t care as much as I do sometimes because they’re not insane lol, but I give it my all when it comes to emotions. I need to protect myself, I know. But… I dunno. I’m excited to see her. But I’m scared. But I have to do this.

[dysporhicliving]

He told me things I’d never heard in my life, things that took me 2 years to finally take in, and believe, and to trust. I called him every second of the day. When I was working, when I was grocery shopping, when I was driving, anything at all I found an excuse to talk to him. Our conversations lasted hours. We even slept on the phone together. All of my friends knew him. My family met him. He made multiple trips halfway across the state to stay with me. He slept near me for a week when I couldn’t even let good friends of mine stay for a few days. He was my true best friend. My platonic soulmate.

I don’t know what happened. I think I had something to do with it. I was in love with someone who was grooming me and I didn’t even know it. Sure, I’d been told multiple times, but I’m not gonna believe it until it was too late. I guess that’s what happened. I spent more nights at his house. More time sleeping next to him, calling him, spending my free time with him that eventually I didn’t have time to call my best friend as often anymore. We spoke frequently still. I called him often, but not as much. I worked full time, my social life was peaking, and I was attending college.

Needless to say, I got busy. And so did he. He made more friends besides me, his church life became more and more frequent, and he was off chasing significant others that were bad for him. We spoke less. A few days a week, at most. I didn’t mind. I missed him, of course, but I understood he had other people in life besides me. And well, I don’t know what went wrong, but he became harder to talk to. Our conversations became life updates that neither of us approved of each other. I was still consumed in someone who was using me, and he was loving someone who was breaking him apart. He became angry. He lost his humor that we bonded so heavily with.

It turned into days. And then, 2 weeks. We didn’t reach out to each other. I assumed it was over. And I found myself moved on. Angry? Yeah, but I kept pushing on in life. Then I woke up to a phone call of a mutual friend. He’s missing. He ran away, and stopped talking to everyone. He called it an Irish goodbye, but I think he wanted attention in a certain way.

It broke me. Someone who I valued so much, easily left my life without hesitation to run away with someone he’d known for only a few months. I’d been abandoned. Again.

He reached out a few weeks later to open my paragraph describing my hurt and anger. He tried reconciling, but I wasn’t having it. The damage had been done. It was irreversible.

He tries to reach out every now and then to say hi. To see what I’m up to, and how I’m doing. I try and reply, but with vague answers. Unintentionally, I guess. I just find it so hard to talk to him like we used to. I accidentally went 2 weeks without opening his message, because I couldn’t bring myself to reply to him. He reaches out some more, and I think he can tell how much damage our friendship had taken at this point.

I got a paragraph from him. A life update, a check up, and he told me how much he loved me still. He still thinks about me. He still misses me. He still considers me his best friend. He wants to stay in touch more. He thinks of me when he hears certain songs. This time, I could reply. I thanked him, and told him he still meant a lot to me. But that was it. I didn’t reciprocate. Because none of what he said was true.

He lied to me. Sometimes I wonder if he’s been lying longer than I know. Every “I love you”. Every “I miss you”. Bullshit. You don’t care anymore. You feel bad because you know you did wrong. You haven’t loved me in a long time. And you never will again.

I can’t ever believe anyone’s “I love you” again. I don’t feel anything. The warm feeling in my chest disappeared a long time ago. I’ve convinced myself everyone’s lying to me when they compliment me. Everyone. Even my own girlfriend. Everything’s just black and white now. I don’t even believe anything I say to her. I fear I don’t truly mean it. I mean, I think I do. I don’t know. I’m too beyond messed up to even go down that rabbit hole.

I lay awake now, ignoring my girlfriends texts. Ignoring her paragraphs. Ignoring her sweet gestures. Because it annoys me. Not because of the action itself, but because I’m sitting there reading it and believing she’s spewing that from her ass. How could anyone love me? How could she adore me? Simple. She doesn’t. And now, my life is over. I will never be loved. I will never love. Not after every single abandonment.

I guess I’ve always been destined to be alone.

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

A Selfless Soul

Summary:  Y/n can't stand the sight before her. Her brother Clint and girlfriend Natasha arguing about who will die to save those lost in the snap. The answer is obvious, neither of them will. Y/n can't let that happen, so if Vormir requires a soul then I guess it's going to get hers.

Word count:  4983   

Warnings: angst, character death, hurt/comfort        

Marvel Masterlist      A Selfless Soul Masterlist

Your brows furrow as you regard the two people arguing with each other in front of you. The two people who meant everything to you. Your brother, Clint and your girlfriend, Natasha. You couldn't believe they were even considering this, yes bringing everyone that Thanos snapped away was important but it wasn’t worth losing one of them. They are so loved, so brave and so selfless everyday. They didn’t deserve this sort of fate.

But you, yeah you’d wager you did. You were always the lone wolf type and had often left Clint alone during childhood to fend for himself and deal with your shared traumatic upbringing alone. You became an assassin for hire, no job was too dirty for you, you had no moral limits because you needed money to get out of all the trouble and debts you owed. Sure when Clint had been offered that job at shield and managed to pull some strings to get you in as well you changed, but not much at first.

You still didn’t spend much time with him, more guilt now than any excuse you used in the past. Eventually you mended your bond though and he introduced you to his family and his friend Natasha. You’d always found her beautiful and appealing to you, which is why you ignored her most of the time. You didn’t know what to do with these emotions you had towards her. You tried ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach anytime something you said or more often didn’t say would cause her face to fall and her shoulders to slump slightly.

You only came to your senses when you overheard her crying to Clint one time about why you hated her, so you confessed that you didn’t. In fact it was very much the opposite and you were scared because that was new to you. The two of you have been together ever since and truly you didn’t regret anything about your relationship with her. She was your light in the dark, your fiery haired lover, your stars in the night sky.

You couldn’t let either of them do this. Clint deserved to get his family back, and Natasha deserved to be there for Yelena. They deserved good lives, happy lives. You knew what you had to do, you just had to get past the two that were now fighting to determine which one would die. You smile sadly as you look at them. Your loving brother and beautiful girlfriend. This was for them. Not because you wanted to die, you very much wanted to live and have the wonderful life you’d planned out with Natasha. But dying was better than losing either of them.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears as your feet pound against the rock beneath you, a steeled look is on your face as you run, you were not to be deterred from this act. It needed to be done and you needed to be the one doing it.

Clint watches, confused as a look of fear washes over the woman he pins beneath him. He follows her gaze in time to see you run past them and that same fear fills him. What were you thinking?

Nat quickly pushes him off of her as she stands and begins to chase you, “Y/n!! Stop!! Please baby!!”

Tears build in your eyes as you register the panic and desperation in her voice, but you don’t slow down. You can’t. It had to be you.

“Don’t do this Y/n!!” Clint shouts as he too runs after you

Why couldn't they understand, why couldn’t they see that you were doing this for them? For their families, for the Avengers? A weightless feeling consumes you as you jump, the cliffs edge rushing past your back as you fall.

“NO!!” Nat shouts as she reaches the edge, firing a grapple that's attached to her waist into it as she jumps after you. Her hand quickly attaches itself to your wrist. She breathes a sigh of relief once she catches you, but she won't be calm until you're beside her again on the cliff above. The cliff Clint currently kneels at, his hands holding tight to the anchor of her grapple there, just to be certain

You huff as your hand instinctively grabs a hold of her wrist, you can feel her pulling you towards her. You look up to see her tear filled eyes looking at you.

“You have to let me do this Natasha.” you tell her as your hand releases its grip on her

She shakes her head, “No. No I won’t. I can’t.” she says as her lip trembles

You sigh, “Tasha. It has to be me.”

“Baby I can’t lose you, please.” she begs, “I love you. I love you so much.”

You can see the tears stream down her face, the thought of losing you tearing her apart. It scares her how determined you look, scares her more that you're no longer holding onto her.

“I love you too Natasha. More than I could ever describe.” You look above her to your brother, his face falls as he sees how serious you are about this, “And I love you, you big dumbass!” you shout making sure he hears you

Tears fall down his face, “I love you too, you big menace!” He replies, knowing there was no talking you out of this. He knew you did this because of the amount of love you had for both of them, how could he possibly argue against that? He couldn't.

Natasha really starts to panic now. Why wasn’t he helping her talk you out of this, why was she the only one trying to keep you alive? You were her happiness, her everything, her cherished lover. She couldn't let you do this, she couldn't lose you, couldn't live without you by her side.

She pulls with all her strength trying so hard to be able to hold you with both her hands, to make sure her grip on you is as tight and secure as possible. Her whole world dangled beneath her, and she absolutely hated how that made her feel. The fear, the panic, the desperation, the heartache.

The fingertips of her other hand brush against yours and you knew, if you were going to pull this off it had to be before she had a solid and unbreakable grip on you.

Your eyes meet hers, “It’s ok”

“No. Please no.” she whispers through tears, her voice failing her

Your legs push off the cliffside with all your might, you can feel yourself slip from your girlfriends hold and then, you feel nothing at all.

“Y/N!! NO!!” she screams as you slip from her hold. Clint sobs as he sees your body below, the ground below your head stained a violent red.

The next thing they know the planet looks different and they find themselves in a pool of water. They emerge and find each other, both looking as broken as the other. Natasha can feel a weight in her hand, she brings it above the water and opens it to find the glowing amber of the Soul Stone in her grasp.

A scream unlike anything Clint has ever heard leaves her. You were gone. Her girlfriend, her kotenok(kitten), her Y/n. She lost you for this stupid stone, a stone that they shouldn’t have even had to get. Not if they had defeated Thanos when they were meant to, before he snapped and erased half of the population. As important as this stone was, it felt worthless in her hand. Nothing was worth the price of you, this she was certain of. And yet, it was the payment you made and she had to live with that. She had to live without you.

Clints arms wrap around her as she sobs uncontrollably. She felt like her heart might shatter at any moment, the weight of her grief was immense. You were hers, and she was yours. But now she was alone. She had no one now. No one to love, to spoil, to build a life with.

“I know it hurts, but we have to go. We have to get the stone back.” Clint says with a heavy heart as his tears continue to fall

She shakes her head, “No. Y/n’s here. I can’t leave her. I need her.”

“Nat. Y/n’s gone.” he reasons, not wanting it to be true either

“No, she’s not! She's here, and I won’t leave her alone.” she insists, “She deserves to be somewhere warm and comfortable, not on some ugly rock in space.”

He nods, “I agree with you on that, but something tells me we won’t find her...her body.”

Another sob wracks through her body, “I need her.”

“I know honey. I know.” He says as he gets Natasha in a standing position.

He wraps his arm around her waist and leans her into his side. He knew there was no way she could get her legs to move one her own right now, not when her heart yearned to be with you. And you were here.

Steve looks around proud to see the others returned as well, until his eyes fall on Clint and Natasha with no Y/n to be found. But he doesn't ask, he can tell by their faces that something went wrong and you were gone. Another hero lost.

“Nat, where's Y/n?” Rocket asks, both of you had become close to the small hero in these last few years

A sob leaves her as she falls to her knees, Clint kneeling beside her. She looks up at Steve as anger builds within her. She opens her hand revealing the Soul Stone and she chucks it at the super soldier.

“Screw you Steve! You and your damn ‘Whatever it takes’ speech!” she yells, not truly angry at the man, but angry at the way things turned out, “She's gone. I lost my Y/n just so we could have that stupid rock!”

Rocket looks at the stone with sadness in his eyes before he approaches his friend. He snuggles into her side and hugs her as she cries and he finds himself shedding tears too. He’d lost so many friends. Too many.

Nobody says a word for several minutes as the three grieve your loss, they grieve too but not in the same way as the ones most important to you. Tony decides he has to do something, say something. Offer comfort to the broken woman before him, she was his friend.

He comes to kneel in front of her, “I’m so sorry Nat. I can’t imagine your pain right now. I’m so sorry.” he says, engulfing her in a hug

Her arms wrap around him and hold tightly. They may not have been on the best of terms lately but other than Clint, Tony had been her first friend on the team and it was nice to have him by her side for this.

"I don't know what to do without her Tony." She sobs

"I know sweetie." He says, a few tears of his own escaping. "Come on, you need to rest" he says as he helps her to her feet.

He walks her to your shared bedroom and sits her in the bed. She looks so lost, so tired, so broken.

"I'll be back for you when we figure out how to get our gauntlet to work, ok?" He asks but he gets no answer. She just sits there as her heart breaks.

After he leaves she somehow finds the strength to get her quantum suit off. She then crawls into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin as her tears continue to fall. She turns in the bed and her eyes meet your side of the bed, forever empty now.

Her hands clutch at the empty sheets beside her. She would give anything to be able to hold you, to feel you next to her, to have you whisper sweet things in her ear like you always did.

She shifts closer to your pillow, letting the scent of your shampoo fill her nose as broken sobs and whimpers escape her until she ends up falling asleep.

She wakes when Tony rushes into her room full Iron Man armor on, "I'm sorry Nat, but we have to get outside, now"

"What? Why?" She asks, still slightly groggy and confused

"Bruce snapped to bring everyone back, we don't know if it worked yet but we have a big problem." He tells her

"Which is?" She asks

"Thanos from the past is here, and he brought his army." He admits

Her stomach and heart sink, if he won a second time then your sacrifice and death would mean nothing and Natasha could absolutely not allow that to happen.

She sits up and grabs her pistols, "We're ending this now."

"I agree " Tony says

The fight is long and hard, Nat fears they're going to lose. But just as things get bad, multiple portals open and the heroes that were lost for five years are back. She smiles as tears roll down her cheeks, your sacrifice was worth it.

They defeat Thanos, but it costs Tony his life. And Nat finds her heart can shatter even more than it already had.

After Tony's funeral Nat decided to go back to the compound, she was angry. Not at Tony, she missed him just as everyone else did. What she was upset about was the fact that she couldn't bury you like Pepper buried Tony. She had no place to visit and talk with you, no stone with your name etched into it, no where to place flowers.

She's only been back a few hours before there's a small and soft knock on her door. She knows who it belongs to and opens it for him.

"Hey Nat." Rocket greets "Can I come in? I gotta say some stuff before the Guardians and I take off"

"Sure. What do you have to tell me?" She asks, genuinely curious as he hops up and takes a seat on her bed. She joins him.

He looks at her with sadness, "It's about Y/n."

Tears form in her eyes at the mention of your name, "What do you mean?"

He sniffles, "Well, I have something that belongs to you now and since she ain't here to give it to you, I figured I would."

Her brows furrow as she looks at him, and then she sees it. A small black box that rests in his lap, she's seen this type of box before. Clint showed her one just like it when he was about to propose to Laura all those years ago

Her lip trembles as tears leave her eyes, but she can't bring herself to say anything as she stares at this small thing that would have meant the world to her a mere three days ago. Now it just reminds her of what she had, what she lost and what she'll never have with you.

"She had me keep it cuz she knew that you'd find it if she hid it in here. You being a spy and all." He continues as his paws pick up the box and hand it to her.

With shaky hands she takes it from him. She takes a deep breath before opening the box. Inside are two rings. The bands of both are black, the ring meant for her has a large diamond in the middle with a heart shaped ruby on either side. Yours is more plain, only having three rubies inlaid into it.

A hand moves to cover her mouth as she cries, "They're beautiful."

"Yeah, they are." Rocket agrees, "She had them for a while, didn't wanna ask you without Yelena being around. She gave me this with them, just in case anything happened to her."

He hands her an envelope, your handwriting on the front of it. She takes it from him gently, like it was a delicate relic of an ancient era. Her fingers brush over her name. She always liked the way her name looked when you were the one that wrote it.

"T-thank you." She says, looking at him

"Of course. Do you need me to stay while you read it?" He asks

"No, I think I need to read it on my own." She responds, "I'm really going to miss you, furball."

He chuckles, "I'll miss you too, red. I'll be sure to check in with you as often as possible." He says before hugging her.

She holds him for a while before he admits it was past his time to leave. Reluctantly she lets him leave, and she finds herself alone again. Surrounded by objects that remind her of you. Your clothes, pictures of the two of you together, your various nicknacks mixed with hers, your favorite movies, the book on your nightstand that you’d never finish. She never fully realized how much of you was represented in the space until you were no longer there to occupy it with her.

She grabs the ring box and your letter before climbing back under the covers of the bed, she holds the items close as she builds the courage to actually open and read what you wrote to her. As she waits she pulls her ring from the box and slips it onto her finger.

"Yes." She whispers as her tears fall. "I would have gladly married you, Y/n. You brought me so much happiness. I wanted you forever."

She looks at your ring in the box and runs her thumb over it before closing the box and setting it next to her on her nightstand. Her hands gently pick up the envelope, she grabs a knife and carefully slices it open.

My beloved Natasha, If you're reading this letter then the worst has happened, and I've left you alone. I'm so sorry. Know that no matter the circumstances my last thoughts were of you and our time spent together. I wanted to spend forever with you. I hope you love the engagement rings I had made for us, I'm sorry we can't be at the altar together Tasha. I love you with all that I am, my heart and soul will always belong to you. I will be with you wherever you are, no matter how far I may seem. Look for me in your happy moments, in Clint's terrible jokes, in the sunsets that paint the sky, in every martini (shaken, not stirred) that you enjoy. I'll be there. Love, forever and always, Y/n P.S. I really hope you would've said 'yes!'

She wishes with every part of her being that you hadn't jumped, hadn't left her. She loves the rings, she loves you. She would have screamed 'yes!' had you had the chance to ask her, she would have given you an incredible kiss that you would always remember. She misses you so incredibly, she has never felt pain like this before. Her mother used to say 'pain only makes you stronger' but she doesn't feel very strong right now.

Her heart and soul would always belong to you as well and she feels like they went with you when you jumped. She loves you, she needs you. What does she do now without you?

Her first answer is to visit Yelena. She finds some comfort in her little sisters embrace and soothing Russian words.

Yelena holds herself together as best she can as she watches Natasha fall apart. She knew how much you meant to her, you were the only person she ever introduced her to. You were her first and only lover, you were her person.

"I'm so sorry, sestra(sister). Sorry I was gone for so long, sorry Y/n was the one who paid the price for everyone's return." she says as her hand runs through red hair, "She loved you so much."

"I love her too." She sobs

"I know. I would bring her back for you if I could." Yelena tells her

"What am I supposed to do without her?" She asks, sounding absolutely heartbroken

Yelena takes a breath, "I...I don't know. I wish I could help you, could tell you what to do to make this better. But you lost part of your heart, I don't think there is a way to make that better. I just think that with time it becomes an easier burden to carry."

"I lost her, and couldn't even bury her!" She cries

"I know Natasha. None of this has been fair to you." the younger woman says, “I know we can’t bury her, but we could always buy her a plot and a stone. That way you have a place to visit, and a way to feel close to her.”

Your girlfriend thinks for a moment. On one hand she would love that, to be able to celebrate your life and your life with her by giving you a proper goodbye. On the other hand, a stone with your name on it makes this all the more real, you really were gone and not coming back.

“Can I think about it?” she asks, voice small and unsure

Yelena nods, “Of course you can. Y/n was your girlfriend, it's whatever you decide to do sestra(sister). There's no right or wrong way to grieve.”

“Fiancée.” she said, voice even smaller than before, “She would have been my Fiancée.”

She looks sadly at her older sister, “Oh Natasha..” she sighs before wrapping her in a tight embrace

Her second answer is to visit Clint, who was feeling equal parts grief and relief. His wife and children were back and by his side but his sister wasn't any longer.

He smiles when he opens the door for her, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Laura takes the children upstairs so the two best friends can have a more private conversation. A conversation she knew that would mainly revolve around you.

“Did you know?” she asks, suddenly and without any specifics. He tilts his head in question, “Did you know she wanted to marry me?”

He gives her a small smile, “Yeah, I knew. We looked high and low for the perfect rings before I convinced her we would have better luck if she could find a jeweler to help her create her own design.”

“She designed them?” she asks, treasuring the ring even more, if that was even possible

“I helped.” he teases, “Nah, it really was all her. She knew what she wanted. I’m glad Rocket gave them to you before he left.”

She nods, “He gave me a letter from her too.”

“An ‘Incase the worst happened’ kind of letter?” he asks

“Did you help with that too?” she asks, only partly joking

He shakes his head, “No, she actually helped me write one when I got Laura her ring, just in case.” a sigh leaves him at the memory

“I miss her so much Clint.” she admits, finally letting her tears fall, “I want to feel her arms around me and hear her voice, but more than anything I want to be able to tell her ‘yes’ and have my future with her.”

“I miss her too, I'd give anything for one of her hugs right now.” he says as he wraps one of his arms around her

She wipes her tears, "I wanted to have a family with her someday"

"She wanted that too." He admits as the house phone rings. He ignores it, knowing Laura would get it.

What he doesn't know is that it's a certain super soldier telling her some very special news. Tears form in her eyes as Steve tells her what he's managed to do and she thanks him profusely. He doesn't want that though, all he wants is for Clint and Nat to get back to the compound.

She ends the call before sprinting down the stairs, almost tripping several times on her way to her husband.

"Jesus Laura, take it easy!" He says as she stumbles into the room, "Where's the fire?"

"Steve called." She says, huffing in some much needed air, "He needs you both back at the compound, now."

He looks at Nat in concern, "Sounds serious."

"Good thing I used a jet to get here then." She answers as she stands.

Once the jet lands they rush into the compound. They find Steve waiting for them in the kitchen, a relaxed smile on his face as he leans against the counter and sips his coffee.

"What's the emergency?" Nat asks

At the same time Clint asks, "Please tell me it's not aliens again."

He chuckles at them, "There's no emergency."

"Then why-"

Steve cuts her off, "I found something that the two of you shouldn't have to live without."

"Yeah, cause that's not cryptic at all." Clint tells him

Steve chuckles, "Check Romanoff's room. I left it on her bed."

Nat and Clint share a look of confusion before they head for her room. She can't pinpoint why, but a familiar feeling washes over her. Butterflies fill her stomach and her heart flutters in her chest, almost like it did when Y/n would come home after a long mission. But she knew that's not what was happening. Nor would it ever happen again.

When they reach her room the door is slightly ajar already. Curiosity washes over both of them as the Russian pushes it fully open.

And she's dreaming. She has to be, because there's no way in hell Y/n can be sitting on the bed right now. She watched her girlfriend die, watched as the Soul Stone appeared in her hand and she brought it back. This wasn't real. It was just what her subconscious gave her as she slept because it's what she longed for more than anything.

"Y/n?" Clint asks, just as shocked as his best friend

"What, no hug?" You tease

He rushes into the room and tackles you onto the bed as tears run down his cheeks. His arms refuse to let you go, too worried you'd disappear if he didn't hold you.

You wrap your arms around him as you rest your head on his shoulder. Your eyes land on Natasha, who still stands in the doorway. Her green eyes clouded by tears and multiple emotions show on her normally stoic face. You can tell she's not been doing well, can tell she's worried that this isn't real.

You pat your brothers shoulder a few times and he gets the idea. He sits up, letting you go from his hug only to cup your face in his calloused hands. He stares at you for a few moments before he nods.

"We can talk later, she needs you right now." He says with a smile before he walks over to the redhead, "What're you waiting for Nat, go get your girl"

His words jump start her brain and she finally understands, this isn't some trick of her heart or mind. No, you were right there in front of her in your shared bedroom. Right where you should be.

She runs into your arms and hugs you as she sobs into your neck. Her hands hold tightly to your bunched up shirt as she trembles in your arms.

"I got you. I'm right here baby." You tell her in a hushed tone as you place gentle kisses to the top of her head.

You can feel her tears on your neck as she struggles to get enough air into her lungs through her crying. You gently move her head to the center of your chest, allowing her to hear your steady heartbeat. It always helped calm her, and sure enough she begins to breathe more calmly as your hands rub up and down her back.

She takes a deep breath, “I lost you, you were gone. I was alone and I missed you so much baby."

"I'm so sorry Tasha, but I couldn't lose you or Clint. You guys don't deserve to die like that. It had to be me." You tell her

Her hands move to cup your face as her emerald eyes look at you, full of love. Her lips meet yours in a sweet and passionate kiss, one she never thought she’d get to have ever again. You can taste the salt of her tears, but you don’t mind. Your hands pull her closer to you as her arms wrap around your neck before she breaks the kiss.

"You didn't deserve to die like that either, kotenok(kitten)" she says as she holds your hands in her own.

You shrug, "Maybe not, but I'm not as important as the two of you."

Her eyes fill with sadness at your words, "You are so important. You're Clint's sister and you mean more to him than he'll ever admit. And you're my everything, my Y/n. I love you so much. Please never leave me again."

"I love you too baby, I promise I'm not going anywhere." You tell her, the ring on her finger finally catching your eyes. Which she notices.

"Ask me." She tells you

You smile, "Natasha, will you marry me?"

"Yes." She says as happy tears form in her eyes, "Yes, of course I will. I want you to be with me forever."

You pull her into another kiss, which she returns eagerly. Her tongue finds its way into your mouth and you gladly let her deepen the kiss before air becomes a necessity. She quickly grabs the small black box and grabs your ring from it, and slips it onto your finger.

You smile at your now Fiancée, "I promise you, I will be."

#natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[manekicatwriter]

hellooo! i was wondering if i could make a request for an modern au sbi x gn sibling reader where they’re around 17-19, and they’ve got depression. they’ve had to go away for a few weeks after a bad episode ended in an attempt and they were hospitalized and sent somewhere for rehabilitation and now they’re coming home and they’re all anxious and quiet and stuff- so the boys do their best to like comfort them and reassure them that they’re loved and they belong there? i’m sorry if that’s an awkward request, i was just recently discharged after a similar situation and honestly the comfort would be great. it’s totally your call if you chose to write it tho, i understand that this is a difficult and triggering subject and not everyone is comfortable with writing things like it. if you aren’t comfy please feel free to just ignore my ask! <3

you’re here, and that’s what matters.

TW: mentions of attempted suicide. please proceed with caution.

hey! i just wanted to let you know that i’ve been through a similar situation and understand how you feel (though my case was not as severe). i wish you a safe road to recovery.

note, i think you asked for their characters but it leant itself towards their rl versions. i have a feeling the dsmp versions would be too chaotic for this sensitive subject.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! please do not be afraid to send in an ask. ANON IS ON!!

Phil:

- phil was very scared about you being so gravely hurt, it kept him up for some nights. thankfully, you pulled through.

- he visited whenever he could. if he couldn’t, he was busy making sure coming home felt as comfortable for you as possible while also educating himself on how to take care of you.

- phil would listen to how you felt, and be understanding of your feelings.

- “You don’t have to tell me why you did it, I’m just glad you’re here,” pulling you in for a warm hug.

- when you got back home, he made sure he and the boys had prepared your favorite dinner and desserts.

It was the day you had just got home from rehabilitation, and you two were sitting on the couch. You hadn’t said much, you felt like you had nothing to say. Phil had asked for you to sit down so you two could talk, one on one.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” your voice started to crack. “For making you guys worry about me.” Tears started to form from your eyes and you wept into your hands.

Phil immediately reached over to you to hug you, letting you cry on his shoulder. “We don’t blame you. We don’t blame anybody. I just want you to be here safe with us. Let it all out.” He pat and rubbed your back soothingly as you kept crying. But it was a good cry. He was just glad you came home.

Tommy:

- even though many see tommy as a loud and obnoxious boy with a general disregard for others, we all know deep down that’s a persona. he will go out of his way to make other comfortable in his presence if he truly cares for them. which he does, for you of course.

- he wants to make you happy! when the time is right, he’ll crack jokes and offer to play minecraft with you.

- would tone down the yelling. not because you asked, but he’s afraid of triggering you. treats you like glass. if you notice he’s being quieter than usual and you don’t care, you tell him you don’t.

- if you’re feeling it, he’ll take you out to fun places and to eat. nothing that’s too outlandish like a theme park, but just enough to have a reason to get out of bed that day instead of sleeping in.

It had been a week since you had gotten home and Phil had instructed you to maintain somewhat of a schedule to upkeep yourself. Right now was your nightly routine, washing yourself, brushing your teeth, and finally sliding under the covers. It felt nice. The blanket of sleep consumes you easily…

…

Until you bedroom door opens you’re being aggressively shaken awake. You groan, shying away, but they’re persistent.

“Ey, wake up, it’s morning!” Tommy shakes you again.

You realize you didn’t dream, but think nothing of it. “Tommy please, what do you want.”

Finally, Tommy pulled your warm sheets from over you, making you flinch. “I wanted to go out to the park today! Feed the ducks! Yeesss!”

You sighed. If you didn’t comply now, Tommy will refuse to stop nagging you for the rest of the day. You rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. You could very clearly hear Tommy’s cheers.

You two had gotten ready, eaten breakfast, and said goodbye to the rest of your family so you could head over to the park. It was close enough that it wasn’t unbearable to walk to. Even if you weren’t completely yourself yet, you were glad Tommy was.

After the short walk you two finally reached the park. Tommy immediately bolted toward the pond and you jogged behind. He had already started throwing the ducks some seeds, and even threw it on a duck. It didn’t seem too pleased.

You two sat at the edge of the pond as you watched the ducks eat. “Hey.” You hear Tommy call to you, and you turn your head to him.

“Can we talk about what happened? With you? Is it okay?” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“Go ahead, what is it?”

“When Techno found out what happened to you, and told us the news, I was scared shitless.” He let out a sad huff. “I thought we were going to lose you.” Tommy kept his eyes fixed at the pond in front of him. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have brought this up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He sighed.

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh Tommy…” You started, “I’m sorry for making you worry. You shouldn’t have to feel like that because of my actions.”

Tommy was lost in thought for a moment, before finally speaking up, “No, please don’t apologize. It’s not anybody’s fault this happened, right?” You nodded.

Tommy stood up, dusting his pants off from the grass. “Come on now, let’s go get some ice cream!” He pulled you up from the ground.

“Last one to get to the shop has to pay!”

Immediately, Tommy bolts in the direction to the ice cream shop, and you catch up to him. No matter the circumstance is, he never seems to fail at putting a smile on your face.

Wilbur:

- i HC wilbur being the oldest, being older than techno by 3 years and older than tommy by 8, like IRL. :]

- i think out of all of your siblings, wilbur exudes the most “protective older brother” energy, yeah?

- remember when tommy lied about his mother being in trouble and how worried and anxious wilbur got? turn that up to 11 with what happened with you.

- with wilbur being the oldest, he of course had the responsibility of taking care of everyone. but somehow you and him didn’t spend as much 1 on 1 time as much as wilbur did with his other siblings

- wilbur definitely was going to change that, realizing that and not wanting to make that mistake again.

- he decided that finding a new hobby with you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

You were sitting at the dinner table, being the last one there. You were poking at your food for the most part, and Wilbur got home late from… whatever Wilbur thing he was doing. Phil cooked pasta for dinner tonight. Wilbur put down his bags at the door connected to the garage. “I’m home! What’s for dinner?”

“Pasta.”

“Mmm, I love some good ol’ pasta.” He said, already taking a plate out to serve himself. “Also, hey, I bought something I wanted to build with you. Do you mind?”

You finally looked up from your very interesting pasta. “Build..?” You had no idea where this was going.

Wilbur placed his plate on the table and approached the bags of groceries, going through them to find the bag he was looking for. He pulled out a LEGO set. More specifically, a LEGO City set from the looks of the box? “Wilbur, how much was that?”

He blinked at you innocently. “It was only, like, £25. And look! It’s got a little submarine we can make with a rock and ugly sea monster—“

“But why?”

“Why not? It wouldn’t hurt for you to do something new, yeah?” He smiled at you, shaking the LEGO box in front of him to show it off. You sighed, but smiled. “Alright. But maybe you and I should eat this pasta first before we start building.” Wilbur nodded.

“Speaking of water, don’t you think I could teach you how to swim or something?”

“Oh, fuck off with that!”

Technoblade:

- i think out of everyone in the family, he understands you the most in terms of how you feel.

- not suicidal, but just generally having depressive episodes due to his ADHD.

- techno’s generally closed off, but started to really open up to you because he wanted to show he cares, even if it meant going out of his comfort zone.

- techno suggested journaling. once a day or once per week, it didn’t really matter. just as long as you could write down your feelings somewhere.

- he didn’t explicitly say it, but he also bought a book for himself so he could do it along with you. although, he more often than not just forgets to write in it until you mention your own journal.

- if you want to be sad and quiet, you can be sad and quiet with him. his room is a safe space for you if you ever need it and you’re always welcome to come in, just as long as you knock first.

With one hand on your mouse scrolling through the internet, and another resting your head on it, you were safe to admit you were utterly and completely bored. Honestly, you thought about taking another nap after your last one, but a knock on your door stopped you right before you pulled the covers over yourself. “Can I come in?”

You rose from your bed. “Come in. Oh hey Techno.”

He gave a simple wave and his signature “Halloo.” He walked right over to you and handed a journal and a ballpoint pen. “I got this. For you.” His stare was sharp but you could sort of tell he was nervous.

“What for?”

“I dunno. Writin’ your feelings down or drawin’ or somethin’. Whatever helps you vent.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh Techno, thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” You gave a slight smile, but saw that he still had another journal in his hand. “You have two journals?”

Techno raised his eyebrow in confusion before looking down at his hand. “Oh this? It’s for me. So we could do it together, I guess.”

You let out a happy hum. “That’s nice. Say, why don’t we go to your room? I want to see your new lava lamp and stuff.”

Techno shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got more stationary too if you want.” He waved his hand before letting himself out the door, with you following not far behind.

hi hope u enjoyed reading as much as i did writing it. this format was new for me but very fun!

#dream smp x reader #tommyinnit x reader #wilbur x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #dsmp x reader #dsmp x male reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x platonic reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois family #sleepy bois fanfic #request #mcyt imagine #mcyt fluff

[quindolyn]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a sub!regulus X Dom!fem reader fic?

One where it’s angsty as Regulus had been acting different around the reader, and eventually after being questioned about it alone, Regulus breaks down and admitting his parents forced him to get the dark mark (there was nothing he could do about it), and the reader comforts him while they fuck. Regulus had been through a lot and the reader wants him to know that they love him.

Including: praise kink, subspace regulus, scar/mark kissing, aftercare for regulus, riding, and anything else you think would suit this situation <3

Resilience || Regulus Black

Word Count: 6154

A/N: Do I hate this? Yes, most definitely, without a doubt. Did I only proof read 5/15 pages. Yes, again, certainly. But I'm tired and I'm with my friend so it's not gonna get better than this. I love you all and hope you enjoy it

warnings: pretty much included in the ask, can't really think of anything else

Being light on your feet it doesn’t appear as though Regulus notices you tip toeing your way across the Slytherin common room. As you come up behind him you peer over his shoulder; he has his legs tucked beneath him with what appears to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook resting in his lap. Standing over his shoulder you let your eyes scan across the pages laid open and what you first believed to be a chapter on counter curses you realized was actually detailing how to cast the curse.

Realizing what you’d just read you let out a small, involuntary gasp that catches the attention of the boy sitting in front of you.

“(Y/N)!” Regulus quickly exclaims, glancing over his shoulder before slamming the book closed and sliding it into his book bag which sits next to him on the plush, green velvet sofa.

“What was that Reg?” You ask, brow furrowed as your eyes lock onto Regulus’ grey ones.

“Just a book love, that’s all.”

“Your Defense textbook?” You ask, hoping he would slide it back out of his satchel to show you the familiar scarlet cover you’d scratched your initials into on the bottom right hand corner.

“Something of the sort,” He answers vaguely, pushing himself off the couch to face you. Instead of making his way around the couch to meet you he stayed on the other side of the piece of furniture. Feet planted, hands fiddling with each other while instead of making eye contact with you his gaze seemed to be directed just past your right ear.

“Don’t lie to me Regulus,” Your voice is clipped, when you’d come to check in on Regulus after he’d come home from winter break at his dreaded family’s house this wasn’t what you had expected.

Regardless, it was what you’re met with, “What the hell is that book?”

Your voice jumps and you can hear the panic rising in it. Regulus had spent the weeks up to his departure date dreading the time he would have to spend at the Black Mansion. You’d stayed up countless nights, wishing you could somehow keep him from having to go to that hellish house but when it came down to it there was nothing either of you could do.

Finding him pouring over some dark arts book the first time you saw him after nearly two weeks apart wasn’t exactly the reunion you’d been picturing in your head. Nor was it comforting.

You can barely make it out but you believe you hear him whimper something about “it’s nothing” as his gaze drops from just over your shoulder to his toes.

You two stand there for a minute, then two, each waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the tension currently hanging heavy over the room. Regulus silently begging you to let it go, to leave the room and give him some time to stash the book before coming to find you to act as though nothing had happened and it was all fine.

Unwilling to yield, you hold your ground, maintaining your silence while your eyes bore into the top of his head, awaiting his explanation as to what you’d walked into.

You’re the one to finally break the silence.

“If it's nothing, then I’d like to see it Regulus.” It's the second time in the span of five minutes you opt for his full name instead of one of the nicknames coined by his brother, who he’d recently mended things with, and made popular by yourself. You knew it would strike a cord for him but you were scared, you were on the offensive.

With a deep sigh Regulus retrieves his bag from the spot it’d fallen to on the floor, pulling the book from the bag, bound in emerald green, Regulus hold it both far from his body and with a surprisingly tight hold, somehow both wanting it as far from him as possible and not wanting it to leave his grasp.

Though visibly ancient the book appears to be in remarkable condition, engraved on the front cover in gold leaf reads “Mendel's Most Malicious Curses”.

Studying the cover you don’t recognize the book’s title but based on what you’d glimpsed inside of its pages you hadn’t expected to. Even as a fifth year you doubt this would ever be included in O.W.L. curriculum.

Despite knowing better you can’t help but feel a strange, strong attraction to the book, an overwhelming urge consuming you to take that book. Your fingers itch at your sides as you imagine getting your hands on the book, wondering how hard Regulus would fight before relinquishing it from his grasp.

Somewhere in your subconscious you register that these thoughts are not organically your own, that somehow that book is influencing you and that in reality you want nothing to do with it. Frightened thoughts simmer at the back of your mind but they are lost in the shadows of your curiosity regarding the secrets that lie beneath the ornate designs swirling over the cover.

Expectantly you extend your arm, a nonverbal signal for Regulus to hand you the book but your movement throws him into action and has him clutching it close to his chest, both arms cradling the text.

“No no no no no,” He chants frantically, shaking his head as though to shake off the thought of relinquishing the book to you. “I can’t give you this (Y/N),” He swallowed deeply, shining silver eyes seaking out yours, ablaze with conviction.

“And why’s that?” You challenge with a raise of your brow.

Inhaling deeply he seems to be bracing himself to respond, “Because you’re a muggle born, it’s not meant for you to touch.”

You can feel rage bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to spill out your mouth in a flurry of angry words admonishing Reg for his remarks, “What? Is my simple muggle born mind not worthy enough to read words in that precious little pureblood book of yours? Do I need my pedigree intact to understand what it says? Not meant for mutts, is that it?”

You thought you were past this, you thought you’d left the aloof little third year you’d first met who’d called you a mudblood and asked you to move to a different table in the library because he didn’t want you looking at his charms homework behind.

Had the past year and a half of apologies and growth on Regulus’ part all been a lie? Was that hate not as small a part of your boyfriend as you’d thought? Did it really only take just shy of two weeks back with his biggoted relatives for him to start spewing this pureblood nonsense again?

Bouncing around in your head those questions overwhelm you as you try to ignore the most pressing one, pushing at the forefront of your mind.

Does he even love you?

“B-because you’re not a pureblood, this book (Y/N), it can’t be held by anyone not of pureblood,” Reg’s shaking voice broke through the flurry of questions wreaking chaos in your mind.

“God damn it Regulus! I thought we were past this! I thought-”

“It’ll kill you (Y/N)!” His voice is frantic and you pick up on the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak over.

Those words that seemed to carry a fatality in themselves cleared away the din clouding your mind, everything went silent. Too silent even as the implication of those words wash over you.

That book may as well be a gun, cocked and being held steady at your temple as you feel tears of your own begin to well in your eyes, distorting your vision.

The mess of questions doesn’t return to your mind, instead they begin thumping one by one at the base of your brain though they all carry through the same theme.

How could he have brought that near you?

“Kill me?” You curse yourself for how obvious your voice is shaking but the book that just moments earlier you were dying to get your hand on seems to have cast an oppressive air over the room and has you recoiling away from your boyfriend.

Regulus nods, holding eye contact with you as he slips the book back into his bag, sliding it under the sofa before cautiously striding towards you.

“That's why I can’t give it to you to look at, it's cursed and if you so much as bump it you’ll…” His voice trails off, the words too terrible to speak aloud.

Your arms wrap around yourself, clutching as hard as they can as you fight to wrangle your thoughts under control. His response revealed to you that he doesn’t intend to hurt you, not with the book anyways which has dozens of other worries popping up in your head. You’re desperate for answers as to what happened to Regulus at his house. He seems ready to give them to you as he offers to take you back to his dorm away from any prying eyes or ears that may lurk about in the Slytherin common room.

You’d both agreed to arrive back at school two days early hoping to get some alone time in but that didn’t mean that the castle was empty and that anyone couldn’t walk into his common room at any moment.

You stall as he lets you into his dorm, you’ve been there a thousand times, often under the mask of night but your usual spot, atop his always made perfectly bed, seems wrong now. Without answers to your countless questions the entire room feels foregin to you and leaves you standing by his desk, not quite leaning against it but also not quite supporting your own weight.

Regulus seems equally awkward but eventually settles on his bed, perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, he barely looks comfortable.

You stay there so long in silence that after a while your breathing syncs, the singular sound becoming the only noise in the drafty room.

Long after it becomes clear Regulus isn’t going to speak first and you finally tire of the silence you find your voice, somewhere deep inside of you summoning the words to your most pressing worry; “What happened at your house Regulus? What did they do to you?”

Your words have him crumbling, your usually stoic boy folding in on himself until he is but a ball hanging off the bed.

You hesitate for a single second before you’re racing towards him, dropping before him at his knees to cup his face in your palms. Directing his visage upwards to meet yours you feel your heart wrench in your chest as you take in his puffy, red eyes, red nose and flushed cheeks already marred with twin trails of salty tears cascading down his face.

“Regulus,” You choke out feeling tears from earlier resurface as you push yourself off the ground to take your place next to the scared boy beside you.

Pulling him into your lap as much as his size permits you too you take great care in cradling his head, clutching him to your chest as your rock gently back and forth humming into his hairline in hopes to calm his sobs. Raw and ragged they each tear at the fragile, brave exterior you’ve erected in hopes of comforting the boy, giving him something solid to hold onto.

Whispering sweet nothings into his ear you feel him melt into your touch, slowly the breathing becomes stronger and his sobs quiet to weak sniffles swallowed by the occasional gulp.

Feeling him shift under your touch you can tell he’s working himself up to something, he always gets fidgety when he’s trying to summon the courage to do something hard, his movement triggers a memory.

It floods through your mind as you’re reminded of a similarly terrified Regulus, knees bumping against the table at breakfast one lazy Sunday as he repeatedly bounced them, seemingly unable to sit still. He’d spent weeks working himself up to speaking to his brother for the first time in far too long.

The memory of him being so strong and brave even as the entirety of the Great Hall tracked his movement from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor had you drawing a deep breath. The strength the memory provides you has you summoning the breath to prompt Regulus into some sort of explanation, anything.

“Reggie, your mother gave you that book didn’t she?”

He goes still at your words and even involuntary actions seem to still, his lungs draw no breath and his pulse seems to fade away under your touch.

“Bellatrix,” His voice is hoarse from crying, “Her idea of a Christmas gift.”

“That bitch,” You spit.

“Walburga’s was worse.”

You pause at the mention of her name, there is no doubt in your mind that he is the one who’s actions have sent Regulus into this downward spiral of despair and fear. You’re not even sure if you wanna hear what he has to stay but what you want stopped being important a long time ago.

“Do you wanna show me Reg?” You ask, breathless.

“No,” Comes his meak voice, “But I need to.”

You nod understandingly as you regrettably allow him to slip from your grasp so he can turn to face you, one leg tucked under his bum and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.

His eyes are downcast before he peaks them up through thick, dark lashes to meet your gaze, “Do you promise not to hate me (Y/N/N)? I don’t know if I can do this if you hate me.”

Your brows are drawn together as your response comes emphatically, “I could never hate you Regulus, I could never and I will never.”

“You can’t make that promise,” He says through a watery chuckle, leaving you wondering where the hilarity in the situation was. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Regulus,” You latched onto his hand before he could turn away from you, “I am incapable of hating you my love, please. Tell me what happened.”

Silver eyes locked with yours as though they would reveal the solidity of your promise. You’re not sure what answer he found in them but regardless he broke your gaze as he snuck his hand out of yours.

You watch as he slowly rolls up his sleeve and an idea as to what he’s going to show you begins to form and you find yourself regretting ever demanding to know what’s going on. You quickly shove those thoughts back down, there's no use in even entertaining them, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.

Your worst fears are confirmed as Regulus rolls the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal swirling black ink sunk deep into his skin. Even just by looking at it you could feel the permanence of the ink, the meaning behind it causing a chill to shoot through your bones.

In the back of your head this had always been a possibility but not one you’d ever truly considered. You always thought that you would be able to get yourself and Reg away from everyone, from everything. Blood purity, the ministry, his family.

You were going to get out and you’d thought you’d have plenty of time, half way through his fifth year neither of you ever expected him to be forced to take the Dark Mark before his eighteenth birthday.

You were supposed to have until his eighteenth birthday.

Staring at the ink that seemed to pulse with life against the pale white of Regulus’ skin you suppose that it doesn’t really matter what you were supposed to have, what was supposed to happen. Regulus has taken the dark mark.

Godric, Regulus has taken the dark mark.

“Y-Your mother did this to you?” Your voice wobbles, anger, confusion, and terror evident in your voice, each betraying the strong front you’re trying to keep up for Regulus.

“She came for me in the middle of the night, (Y/N/N). First time I’ve ever been woken by her instead of Sirius or a house elf and she forced me up, made me get dressed before taking me downstairs and they were all there,” His voice cracks as a silent sob racks his body, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to relive the horrific events of that night. Hoping to provide him with any sort of comfort you inch closer to him, throwing your arm around his shoulder allowing him to rest his head on yours before continuing.

“They were all there (Y/N), not just her and Father. Bellatrix, Cissa and her husband, the Lestranges,” He pauses to swallow, “ And him. He was there.”

Regulus needn’t clarify who “he” was. The idea that he had even been near Regulus made you sick to your stomach and you could feel the distinct sensation of bile rising tickle at the back of your throat.

“Shhh, it's okay Reg,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as sobs shake his body, “It’s going to be okay Red we’re going to figure this out.”

“He did this to me,” He sobs as he shakes in your lap, letting the enormity of his circumstances finally sink in after suppressing it for the past week, the fear of your response keeping him occupied.

To say you aren’t scared would be a lie, you’re fucking terrified but holding Regulus’ trembling form you know that this decision was not his. He would never swear allegiance to a group hell bent on destroying you and people like you, a few years ago maybe but not today. Not the Regulus you’d come to love, even if it began despite yourself.

Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your hand around the skin now stained by dark magic.

Regulus let’s out a hiss at your touch and you feel him tense under your hand, afraid you’ve hurt him you start to pull away, “Does that hurt Reg?” You ask warily.

“Yes,” He spits out through gritted teeth, “But don’t let go please,” He pleads, raising his gaze to meet yours, “Please don’t let go.”

“Not gonna let go,” You promise, keeping your hold on his forearm tight.

Dipping your fingers under the strong bone of his mandible you turn his visage upwards to meet yours, heart breaking at the sadness and pain swimming in those beautiful grey eyes of his. Slowly you lean in before your eyelashes are brushing against the soft skin of his cheeks and your eyes flutter closed as you watch his do the same.

Your lips brush each other’s gently as your hand cups the side of his face, giving you complete control of the kiss as you keep the swipes of your lips light, you can just barely make out the taste of the pomegranate lip balm you’d given him as a part of your holiday gift to him.

“I didn’t wanna take it (Y/N/N),” He sniffles against your lips, “I don’t wanna be a Death Eater, I don’t wanna hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice has more tears welling in your eyes, you just can’t bear to see your beautiful boy in so much pain.

“Oh I know you don’t bubba I know,” You calm him, throwing a leg over to the other side of his lap so that you can perch yourself atop the hard smooth surface of his thighs. Gently pressing kisses along the canvas of his face you feel his arms wrap around your waist and the tips of fingers graze against your ass as his hands hover above it.

“Can I touch you please?” His words are barely audible but his desperation is loud and clear.

You grant permission as you lean forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. Posing little, if any, challenge before letting your tongue delve into his mouth, quickly claiming dominance over his as you feel his palms clutch the globes of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he holds onto you as tight as possible.

With care you slowly guide him onto his back as your lips trail from his down the column of his throat, in your journey down you leave sloppy hickeys along the delicate skin of his neck. Pulling away slightly you smile to see the various shades of purple and blue painted along his pretty ivory skin.

You know you’re going to have a real conversation about this later, what it means, what the two of you are ready to do about it but right now all you can think about is how you can make your pretty boy feel better, how you can show him that your love for him hasn’t changed. And there’s one way you know how to do that best.

“Do you want me to make you feel good Reggie?” You whisper against his skin as your lips ghost over his collar bone, drinking in his scent.

“Please,” He whimpers, “Need you.”

That’s all you need to hear before your hands are delving under the hem of Reg’s sweater, hands sliding against the smooth planes of his abs, your hands gliding over the occasional ridge of a long healed scar.

Sliding the hem up all the way to his collarbone you look down to see the beautiful lines of his chest and stomach. The scars you’ve become used to seeing a dark but faded pink now shine an almost brilliant purple as though the dark magic imprinted upon his arm had somehow interfered with scars caused by Walburga, most of them when he was much younger. You know for a fact that there are more ones on his back, deeper and darker from taking longer to heal.

“Come on pretty boy,” You coach, propping him up so that you can slip the soft sweater over his head before discarding it over your shoulder, “There we go, that’s a good boy.”

He lets out a low whine at your praising words as his hips thrust up towards yours which are perched directly atop them.

While removing your own sweater you smile, realizing it’s actually one of Regulus’ old Quidditch jumpers from the year prior. With no bra beneath your top your tits are left bare for Regulus’ viewing. His eyes gloss over as lust creeps into the stormy grey of his irises, they’re locked on your tits as though they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

“Do these hurt more than normal baby?” You ask as your fingertips graze over the raised scars on his chest, if the dark magic of the dark mark made his scars more sensitive you wanna be careful not to hurt him.

“A little.”

Frowning you lean down to press your lips against the puckered scars, your kisses light and fleeting as you trace the dark lines with your lips.

Dancing from one scar to another you hear him exhale deeply and the tension seems to be slowly leaving his body as he settles into the mattress and he becomes malleable under your touch.

“You’re so beautiful Reg,” You praise against his scarred skin, needing him to understand just how much you love him.

“I love you so much,” You look up through your lashes to see Regulus’ eyes already locked on your body.

“I love you too.”

With that your lips are ceasing his once more as you feel the overwhelming need to comfort your boy. Gently, you grind your hips up against his as you become lost in the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours before you feel a familiar bulge pressing on you.

Your hand ventures back down the hard muscle of his stomach before you bump against the bulge of his erection, straining against the soft material of his sweatpants. You palm gently over his cock as your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, giving him sweet, light kisses while teasing his throbbing member.

“Please,” Comes his choked pleas at being teased, “Please, need more.”

“Of course pretty boy,” You promise as you lift yourself off of him, giving him one last kiss at the waistband of his sweatpants before helping him ease off his bottoms and boxers.

Once he’s devoid of all clothing you too strip down so that you’re both bare naked, your eyes are fixed on the red, weeping head of his half hard cock, sitting against the inside of his muscled thigh.

He whimpers as your hand wraps around his member, pumping up and down his hardening length, brushing your thumb along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Wanna be inside of you,” He whimpers, hands grappling for your wrist to stall your movements and pull you on top of him but all he succeeds in doing is making you stubble closer to him.

You release your right hand from his cock, instead taking his hand in yours while your unoccupied hands resumes stimulating his member.

“I know you wanna be inside of me, pretty boy, but I gotta get you hard first.”

“But I am hard,” He argues in a pretty little whine, and now that he mentions it you realize that he is harder than he was when you’d pulled him from the tight confines of his pants.

“Your cock’s so gorgeous,” You murmur watching the way he twitches in your hand, “Think you’re hard enough now, yeah?”

He nods his head, squirming as he fights the urge to buck up into your hand.

Making sure that he’s comfortable, propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed you brush away the hair that’s fallen into his face as you straddle his lap, the shaft of his cock pressing against the warmth of your cunt.

Lifting yourself a few inches off his thighs your help guide his prick to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him you allow yourself to take your time accepting each and every inch of him inside of you.

Reg’s eyes are glued to your pussy as he watches himself disappear inside of you, all the way down to his base. His eye brows furrow from the overwhelming pleasure that swims through his veins, sinking deep into his every nerve at the bliss of being completely surrounded by your warm pussy.

Pleasure shoots up your spine at the sensation of slowly becoming full, once you’ve finally taken every inch of him inside you you throw your head back, mouth dropped open as the breath is stolen from your lungs. It feels so good to be so full with him you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Good boy,” You say breathlessly, rubbing your arms up and down his flexing arms, fists furled with the sheets between them as he too adapts to the sensation that comes with being inside of you.

“You ready for me to move?” You ask once you finally become used to the full feeling.

Desperate nods answered your question, it takes you a minute to find your rhythm but soon you’re grinding his hips against his, lifting yourself slightly off his cock before grinding back down onto him.

Your movements are slower than usual when you fuck Reg, but after the terror he’d gone through in the past weeks you’re deliberate in your gentle movements.

As your hands grip the muscles of his arms you hear him take a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, landing on his face, your movements stalling before you realize that you’re clutching the newly marked skin on his left forearm.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” You apologize, loosening your grip on him as your lips frace the dark lines of the ink against his skin.

Seeing that mark on anyone else would’ve made you recoil, have ice shooting through your veins as fear petrified you. While you would’ve preferred never to see that symbol of hate tattooed into Regulus’ skin it didn’t evoke its usual reaction from you. The only fear you have is fear of the future, fear of what lies in wait for the two of you beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is comforting your boy, all you think about as you press your lips to his mark.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear sobs break through Regulus’ lips, quickly you abandon the stain of ink , moving to cradle his head so that your tits are right in his line of vision.

“I thought you were going to hate me,” He cries into your chest, tears wet the soft skin of your tits.

“No baby, I’ll never hate you, not ever.”

You feel the wet warmth of his mouth brush against your right nipple, gazing down you see his tongue lazily circling the pebbled flesh and you’re reminded just how cold the room actually is but pressed up against Regulus it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“You wanna suck on my titty Reggie?”

He responds with a weak nod and quickly you’re easing your nipple into his mouth, helping him find the correct angle all the while stuttering your hips against his.

“You fill me up so good Reg,” Your praise, fingers tangling in the dark mess of curls.

At your praise he begins lifting his hips in times with your thrusts, helping you as you fuck youself on top of him, wanting so desperately to make you feel as good as you make him.

“There we go, that’s a god boy.”

“M’getting close,” His words are muffled by the soft flesh of your tit stuffed into his mouth.

You too are nearing your orgasm as your clit brushes against the hard bone  of his pelvis pulling a sharp whimper from you. To better grant Regulus access to your breast you’ve settled on rolling your hips in circles, ceasing the up and down movement from earlier so as to not disturb him.

A familiar tightness is brewing in your belly as Regulus’ hands run up and down your back before gripping the globes of your butt, maintaining as much physical contact as possible.

“Go ahead bubba, go ahead and cum. Fill me up pretty boy, want your cum. Need your cum. Godric I love you,” You ramble, seizing his lips again, needing them against yours as you feel him cum inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters as your cunt grips around him with the tell tale signs of your quickly approaching orgasm.

“Y’gonna cum with me baby?” You ask as you press your lips to his forehead, his mouth having once more found the plush of your breast.

“Yes,” He nods, “Please.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of pleasure racing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm, continuing to move your hips as you simultaneously help Reg through his. Stars flash behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure building up finally releases, sending you into euphoria so intense it seems to cloud your every sense.

The second he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock it tipped him over the edge and as he lost himself in pleasure, rope after rope of cum releasing inside of you, he tried his best to match the movement of his hips to yours.

You flutter your eyes open as the warmth of his cum floods your pussy as you come down from the height of your orgasm, letting yourself collapse so that your chest is pressed up against his.

With your chests pressed so close together you notice the exact moment that your breathing syncs, feeling as Regulus’ arms wrap around your bare torso keeping you close to his body.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur against the ivory skin of his chest, keeping your voice hushed.

“Better. A little happy.”

Glancing up you catch the smallest smirk slink across his lips as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling.

“Happy?”

“You make me happy,” His eyes flicker to yours as he pulls you closer to him causing his softening prick to slip out of your tight hole. You both hiss as the cool air hits his cock and the cum he’d emptied into you begins flowing out yout pussy.

Regrettably you push yourself off of him, pulling his sweater over your head before waddling into the connecting bathroom, being ever so conscious about the sticky white mess between your legs as you wet a washcloth using warm water from the sink before applying it to the insides of your thighs. Ginger touches hastily cleaning up the excess cum before rinsing the wash cloth to take it to Reg.

“Hey pretty boy,” You coo upon reentering the room to find him in the same position you’d left him in, “You ready for me to clean you up?”

“You look so beautiful in my clothes (Y/N/N),” He responds instead of answering your question, pushing himself onto his elbows so that he can watch you, his black sweater enveloping you all the way to your lower thighs.

“And you’re just beautiful,” You smile, sitting next to him on the mattress. You aren’t lying, he looks absolutely gorgeous leaning back, mop of dark hair in tangled tresses, grey eyes glossed over, abs sheening with sweat as are his equally toned thighs. Merlin bless the poor bastard who invented Quidditch.

Dragging up his muscled legs your eyes settle on his softening member, just as pretty as the rest of him.

With care you make quick work of cleaning the cum off his cock, resting your hand on his thigh when he tries to squirm away from your over stimulating touch.

“I know baby, I know but I gotta get you all nice and clean for me.”

“Hurts,” He mumbles in a pathetic pout.

“I know it does pretty baby but look,” You say, pulling the cloth from his skin, “All done already.” Pressing a kiss to his temple you go to stand but you’re quickly pulled back down to the mattress by cold hands wrapped around the warm folds of your waist.

“Don’t go,” He mumbles into your hair as he keeps you tucked into his side.

“Just gotta go put the washcloth back Reggie,” You explain trying to slip from his hold but he’s not having it and just tugs you back against the hard planes of his chest.

“No,” He says simply before reaching over to the bed side table where he’d set his wand, mumbling a quick banishing spell the rag flew from your hand before flying into the bathroom.

Resting your head against his strong shoulder you yank a blanket from the end of the bed up to throw it around your bodies, nestled close together.

“You said you were happy Reg.”

“Mhm,” He responds with a noncommittal hum.

“What else are you feeling, love?”

You hear him take a deep inhale, as his own answer seemed to overwhelm him, “I don’t know. I’m scared, I’m really scared but not so much now that I know that you don’t hate me.”

You nod against his chest, you can only imagine how petrifying that thought must’ve been for him and you can’t deny the tug you feel in your chest at the idea of Regulus ever thinking you would hate him.

“I’m still terrified but I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know you’re gonna be okay Regulus, you are capable and strong and smart and the bravest boy I have ever met,” You can feel the blush radiating off of him at your words.

“Thank you (Y/N/N),” He mumbles bashfully into your hair once more.

You were telling the truth, if there was one thing that you know for certain its that Regulus is just as resilient as he has proven to be and if Walburga, or anyone else for that matter thought he was going to take this lying down. If they thought you were going to take this lying down, they have another thing coming. There is no doubt in your mind that Regulus will fight for what he knows to be true and if there was ever a point that he would have obeyed his mother’s every command without question that time was long past.

Reg isn’t to be underestimated. He’s just as every bit courageous as he’s proved to be over and over again. To underestimate him is to dig your own grave; and unlike Walburga you aren’t ready to count him out quite yet. On the contrary actually, your boy wasn’t about to take this lying down and even if it meant total self destruction, the two of you are about to raise hell.

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