#but even when all is said and done he returns. even if it makes him feel guilty even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hon3y-y · 14 hours

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NUH UH roomate!sukuna had his thot era, it's time for reader to have hers!!! And he's gonna sit there and WATCH it- payback baby. I wanted reader to fuck satoru, suguru, kento, choso, even fucking hiromi- she gonna get it ALLLLLLL before sukuna can even get a taste 😤

cw: noncon filming!

pt 1: here<3

omfg he would be soooo pissed💀

picture this;

The morning after everything happened, Sukuna was more than ready to make it official with you. He had already planned how he was going to seduce you. He got up early to hit the gym before you even woke up, so when you were finally awake, you would see him all jacked up and sweaty. It literally had his stomach fluttering with excitement at just how fast he knew you'd fold.

Well, easier said than done, because when he does get home and hear someone in the kitchen, it's not you cutely rubbing your sleepy eyes in nothing but a baggy shirt. Instead, it’s that white-haired freak from last night.

He literally rolls his eyes, ignoring the greeting the guy sends and telling him to “get the fuck out” to which Satoru just laughs, takes his toast (which he made in Sukuna’s toaster, by the way), and exits the kitchen while taking a bite. Sukuna goes to your room door but is stopped by the obnoxious blond.

“She left, said she was going to see a friend.”

“Why are you still here?”

Satoru shrugs before grabbing the shirt he had thrown onto the couch the previous night and waving goodbye, crumbs from the toast he was eating still on his lips, before the door slams shut.

Ryomen was floored. Were you two officials? Is that why you finally brought someone home? He couldn’t deny the pinch in his chest, but he shoved it aside. I mean, he would happily break up a home, so even if this was your stupid boyfriend, it wouldn’t dampen anything. He doesn’t mind a little competition.

At least, that’s what he thinks it’s going to be. Since that night, both of your schedules had been too complicated, and you two had only seen each other in passing. But tonight, he knew you would both be off and it’s the weekend, so he knows you at least don’t have anything till midday.

You return late, and you are absolutely not alone.

You’re with another guy, some blond man who looks a little too pristine to be found at the club (who he later finds out is kento from your whimpered of “kento! Oh fuck—yes! right there!”).

You don’t even notice that Sukuna's door is wide open and instead stumble straight into your own. and Ryomen is jaw-dropped, shocked.

He begins to feel like a cuck; all he does is listen to you fuck this random selection of men you’ve created within these recent couple of weeks and fuck his fist stupid. It’s so embarrassing to feel like a hormonal teenager who can’t get a grip. but he can’t stop; he just remembers what you look like under Satoru.

Night after night, all weekend long, you’re bringing home someone new. although after a while it’s just the same three guys. the annoying blond, Kento (or “the businessman”), and some random boy named "choso,” who he walked in on you giving a blow job to.

You stopped immediately, so embarrassed and shy, as if you didn’t just have this guy with his eyes rolled back, nearly crying every time you gagged on him. Choso, on the other hand, looked too fucked out to care about the third person in the room.

Sukuna was so hard and horny all the time, and his interest in finding someone to handle it was useless. He wanted you, not some random girl. He even bought a fleshlight for the first time, needing something other than his hand to hump.

One night, he returned late and heard the sweet noises of your mewls (again, it was starting to feel like a routine). He tried to quietly pass your door, but stopped short. three voices?

He almost couldn't believe it, but after cracking your door open, there you were. You were jerking Satoru off, his white hair sticking to his damp forehead, while this guy with long black hair was pounding into you. One of his hands wrapped around your throat while the other played with your clit, your body jerking at the intensity of stimulation. Satoru played with your swollen nipples, pinching and leaning down to suck them.

Sukuna can’t help but pull his phone out and record it, going back to his room and rutting into his fleshlight until his cock is raw. the video on a constant loop because he was so fucking addicted. You looked so good. so pretty, and pliant under them. He wanted, no, needed to have you.

You lay in bed, absolutely exhausted after Suguru and Satoru left. You still can’t deny the effect Sukuna has on you, but since you’ve started having hookups, you haven’t even tried to listen to what Ryo does (not that you could’ve or noticed, clearly. he’s been on a dry spell). While you sleep peacefully, snuggled into your warm comforter, Sukuna lies awake, extremely frustrated.

he’s sooo down bad://

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romanticintheory · 1 day

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Hello!!!! I was wondering if you could write an angst with Ghost/Simon where the reader was too clingy after having a bad day and he lashed out on her but he didn't think anything of it because the next day the reader was acting normal. He only noticed after a few weeks when reader became more distant and quiet. Feel free to ignore if it's too weird or you don't like it!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

this one is dedicated to all the ones who were hurt and never got that apology. hope this alleviates the pain.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader || masterlist || request rules

-there was no one specific reason as to why today turned out to be a bad day. it just was.

-from accidentally burning yourself trying to make breakfast after waking up late to having to deal with the most insufferable customers, it just wasn't your day today.

-but it was okay, because you had simon to return to when everything was said and done.

-the frown on your face immediately softens the moment you see him walk through the door to your shared home. as soon as he pulls his mask and boots off, you make your way toward him and engulf him in a tight hug.

-you are painfully (but understandably) unaware of the thin veil of his patience and the frustration that had been brewing within him in the past few hours. he half-heartedly returns the embrace.

-"how was your day, si?" you ask him gently.

-"fine," he responds shortly, hoping there isn't more to the conversation.

-even after you pull away from him, you trail behind him as he moves around the house. this wasn't irregular behavior from either of you. simon wasn't usually the most talkative person in the room, anyway, but he loved to hear your voice. that was one of the things he loved about the two of you together; you filled the space he couldn't.

-today, though, was different. he was pissed off at all different kinds of people. for some reason, couldn't bring himself to tell you that he was having a bad day and needed some space, especially because it was evident you were having a bad one yourself.

-so when he turned on his heel after listening to your rambles for as much as he could take and lashed out at you, he tried not to think about the unbearable amount of guilt seeping into his veins.

-"would you just stop clinging to me for five minutes? god, 's like i can't get away from you or your constant fucking talking!"

-you had heard stories, mostly from simon, about the kind of man he could be when pushed to his limit. mostly, it was of violent, physical acts when it came to work or protecting the ones he loved. other times, he would tell you about when he'd lash out at others just like he did to you, now, and he always told it to you with a quiet fear. there was an unspoken meaning to him telling you about the times he's acted out: i don't want to do the same to you. i don't want to hurt you.

-but here he was, towering over you with a coldness in his eyes and a dryness in his throat from the sheer volume of his words.

-averting your gaze from his, you let out a meek, "'m sorry," and watch as he slams the door in front of your face.

-when he slinks into bed next to your sleeping form later that night, ridden with shame and guilt, he misses the tear-stained face hidden from him. after his outburst, you felt like all of the energy in your body had been taken away from you and retreated to bed early. you cried on and off for hours.

-you always thought you had a clinging problem. it was an insecurity you carried with you starting from childhood. friends would become acquaintances and family would keep you at arms-length. after years of believing the issue was you, simon walked into your life and told you different.

-if you stopped talking because you thought he stopped listening and was uninterested, he'd always turn back to you and genuinely ask why you stopped talking. whenever you apologized for hugging him for too long or asking to spend time with him for the third time that week, he'd always tilt his head at you and say in that low, sincere voice, "but i love you?"

-for all those reasons, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt despite how much he hurt you. so, when he tries to bring it up the next morning, you do your best to brush it off. he was having a bad day. that was all. no need to make a fuss.

-"listen, love," he calls to you as you pop your piece of toast out of the toaster. "about last night-"

-completely disregarding his words, you look at the clock and stuff your phone into your pocket. "it's fine. honestly, simon," you tell him with the best smile you could muster. "i'm gonna be late. i'll see you tonight."

-you were so adamant on getting out as quick as possible that simon had no time to respond. he thought to himself that maybe he was making a bigger deal out of it than you. maybe there were no hard feelings and you were completely fine. after all, he was always overly worried for you, anyway.

-so, when you came home, he didn't mention it. it was as if last night didn't happen, and the two of you were perfectly fine. there were times where simon thought you were being a bit more restrained in your movements or words, but he tried to chalk it up to just him being overly paranoid. you said it was fine, so it was better not to push you on it, right?

-at first, you were doing really good at keeping yourself from overthinking the situation. however, as time went on and you paid more attention to how you acted around your boyfriend, you began to wonder if you were really that clingy.

-as the week progressed, your state of mind would deteriorate. what if it wasn't just a bad day? what if that was what he thought the entire time and was just waiting for the right moment to tell you? had he just been trying to cheer you up about your insecurities the entire time? and if he was, how much of this relationship was even real, then?

-the more you thought about it, the more distant you became. the last thing you wanted to do was make simon feel like he was being suffocated by you. you slowly stopped initiating physical affection with him, restricted talking about your day to a few sentences, and tried to answer simon's questions in one word when possible.

-he notices. of course he notices, it was like a stranger was living where you were supposed to be, and he missed it. he missed you.

-he asks you about your change when you're getting ready for bed, pulling the rest of your nightshirt over your head. despite being exhausted from work and looking like you were sitting out in the wind, he thought you never looked more ethereal than you did now.

-"(y/n)," he said.

-"hm?" you hummed to him, not turning toward his direction. you sat down on the edge of your side of the bed, turning off the lamp at the same time.

-your lack of emotional presence was starting to eat at him. he sat down next to you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight and forcing you to lean toward him.

-"you alright?"

-"yes. why?"

-"i dunno, you just seem..." his eyes tried to find yours, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze. "quiet."

-it was then that you looked at him, and it was scary to simon because he couldn't make out the emotion in your expression. there was nothing he could read.

-"isn't that-" you had to pause to try and stabilize your wavering voice. "isn't that what you wanted?"

-there was a tension-filled silence that settled in the room, and for a second you were worried that what you said was somehow incredibly offensive.

-finally, he chokes out, "i'm sorry."

-again, you try to muster up a smile. "it's fine, i already told you. i should've known you wanted space."

-"no."

-"no?"

-"it was my fault," he explains. "how could you 'ave known? i didn't tell you i wasn't in the mood that day, and that's not even considering the way i talked to you. i shouldn't have- nothing excuses what i said to you."

-still, you were convinced you were to blame. "well, i have a history of being clingy, so," you were trying to come up with more excuses for him. for most of your life, you had decided that you were the issue. it couldn't be any other way, right?

-"i know. it's one of the things i love you for," he says quietly. "not to sound cheesy but it's what makes you you, and i don't want you to lose that jus' 'cause i'm still shitty at communication."

-you knew in some capacity he was right. there was no excuse for how he talked to you, but the next words you wanted to say evaded you.

-simon thought about talking some more. instead, he grasped your back with one hand and slid his other underneath your legs, repositioning you on his lap. it was like a silent plea from him, a way of proving that he wanted to be close to you just as much as you wanted to be close to him.

-"you're sure i'm not too clingy?" you ask tentatively.

-"positive," he reassures you, rubbing small circles on your back with his thumb. "you wanna know something?"

-"what?"

-"if i wasn't so fucked up-"

-"you're not fucked up."

-"right." you never let him talk badly about himself. that was something he was still getting used to after all this time. being loved and learning to love himself. "well, if i didn't grow up the way i did and became the person i am, i'd probably be way clingier than you."

-"that's impossible," you deny, unconsciously letting yourself lean into his touch.

-"you don't know how much i want you. if my mind and body would let me, i'd be close to you all the time, showing you the attention you deserve."

-"you give me plenty."

-"agree to disagree," he stops with the circles and pulls you impossibly closer to his body. "but 'm trying. 'm trying to learn to let you love me and to not be afraid to love you. 'm sorry, love. i stopped trying that night, and i think it'll be the death of me."

-you let his words sink in, a thoughtful look on your face.

-"next time you'll tell me, right? what you're thinking?"

-"pinkie promise," he agrees, letting the hand under your legs slide out and raise his pinkie finger toward you.

-in return, you link your pinkie with his to seal the promise, and it feels as though the heavy tension in the air has cleared away.

-"i love you," he says, feeling bold from his previous admission.

-"i love you, too." there's that smile on your face. he never realized until now how he probably couldn't live without it.

-he kisses you on the lips, and for a moment the two of you just stay there in each other's arms, forgiving the past, healing the present, and dreaming of the future together.

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stevenose · 13 hours

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body to flame (18+)

summary: steve’s insists he only needs twenty minutes to make you cum.

contains: reader with a vagina; ‘good girl’ and ‘pretty girl’ used for reader; no pronouns for reader; fingering (reader receiving); banter; bitchy!steve; sort of mean!steve but it’s all in good fun

this is hardly proofread so apologies 💔

“All I need is twenty minutes.”

You scoff and look over your shoulder at Steve, who hasn’t even bothered looking up from the tapes he’s reorganizing.

“Twenty minutes?” you repeat. “That’s not even a whole lunch break.”

“I’ve done it quicker.”

“Bullshit, Steve.”

“You’re scared, huh?” he asks.

“Of you making me cum? Yes.”

Now he scoffs, looking up at you, placing his hands on his hips. Bitchy. “You really don’t believe me?”

“I absolutely do not.”

“Huh.” He stares at you, narrows his eyes at the back of your head. “Give me a chance, won’t ya?”

“A chance?”

“Let me try it on you.”

You whip around, hurling an empty VHS box at him, which he somehow dodges in the nick of time. “No way!”

“What? Don’t wanna be proven wrong?”

“You ever think that maybe I don’t want you to touch me?”

He laughs, much to your shock.

“Steve,” you sigh. “Get a grip.”

It’s silent for a while. You go back to inputting returns and Steve moves around, replacing them. Then he comes back to the check out desk, leaning on it with his forearms. Crowds your space, makes you back up, your cheeks heating up.

“My paycheck.”

You falter. “What about it?”

“I’ll give you my entire paycheck if I can’t make you cum in twenty or less.”

Your eyes roll, but he can see right through you.

“Are you making fifteen dollars more than me an hour or something?”

“I got overtime twice last week!” he defends. “Should be a couple hundred.”

You lick your lips, eyes moving back to the computer as if you’re interested in it more than him. “And if you do? You want my paycheck?”

“When I do, then you’ll let me have another hour with you.”

“To do what? Torture me?”

Steve just smiles.

You narrow your eyes. “Where would this even happen?”

“Uh, on break?” he says, like you’re dense. “Put up a ‘be back in twenty’ sign. Or maybe I should just close up shop?”

The entire thing is so scandalous that it has your face burning up, almost suffocatingly. And he won’t stop looking at you with those dumb puppy dog eyes. A little pout tugging his lips downward.

“You’re gonna beg me?” you snark.

“Couple hundred would go a long way, wouldn’t it?”

You’re so sure you can win at this. Even if he’s good, twenty minutes isn’t that long. And that’s how you end up on his lap on the dilapidated couch in the back room, a “be back in twenty :)” sign slapped onto the front door. Your pants are off and in a heap on the floor below you, underwear still on - you made Steve swear he’d work around them.

No cock, either. “This isn’t just an excuse to get your dick wet, is it?”

Hands thrown up in surrender, he’d said, “Fine, fine. Fingers only:”

“You’re gonna be so broke,” you insist, but it’s already getting difficult. He’s hard underneath you and apparently neither of you will bring it up. Steve looks so pleased with himself, and the confidence makes your stomach flip.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” His eyes are glinting, full of mischief. “You’re gonna be spending an hour in the Harrington Torture Chamber.”

You laugh boisterously. “And what’s that entail?”

He glares playfully, hands moving up your thighs, settling where they meet your ass. “You’ll just have to see.”

His fingers glide underneath the material, hands first grabbing your ass. You gasp a little as he kneads. “You let me know when to start.”

You twist around to look at the clock behind you. 5:37 pm. Jesus, you’re doing this before it’s even dark out. You look back at him, annoyingly handsome below you, little highlights playing in his curls.

“Now seems fine,” you finally say.

Steve looks over your shoulder. “What do you say we stop at an even six o’clock?”

“Now, Steve.”

There’s really no fanfare. He doesn’t take much time with you, moving his hands around to the front to cup your cunt over your underwear. His thumb finds your clit immediately and you let out an embarrassingly easy whine.

“Right there?” he coos. “Always been good at findin’ it.”

“Bullshit,” you breathe, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Prob- you probably just found out about the clit.”

“Y’know, you better learn to use that mouth for somethin’ a little better than insulting me.”

You’re incredibly, incredibly thankful his fingers weren’t inside of you when he said that. You clench down, pleasure coursing from your stomach to your clit while he rubs gentle circles into it.

“That shut you up,” he muses. “Like being told what to do, huh?”

“Fuck off.”

His thumb presses a little harder. Still delicious - more so, in fact. You bite your cheek hard and stare at his forehead. His eyes are too intense for you.

“Can’t even look at me,” he tsks. “This is a lot for you, huh? It’s only been two minutes.”

You’re thankful for the reminder. You push your thoughts away, starting to think of the new releases coming up, the new cash reconciliation process. But it only works for about three minutes, until Steve gets bored with your non-reaction and slips his fingers under your underwear.

“Jesus,” he moans, “you’re so wet.” He licks his lips. “This all for me? Or are you wet from when Keith came in earlier?”

“Shut up!”

“It’s gotta be one of them, huh?” he presses, rubbing bigger, stronger circles into your clit while his other fingers press into your entrance just a bit. You gasp and clench again, and Steve smirks. “It was Keith, wasn’t it? Can’t wait to tell our friends how horny you get for him.”

“Not Keith,” you pant.

“Oh, then me?”

“Shut up!”

“No way.” His middle finger rubs against your hole. “This is too easy, babe. Got twelve minutes left with you and you’re already creamin’.”

You choose to ignore him, taking deep breaths, squeezing his shoulders. When you least expect it, Steve slides his finger inside of you.

“O-oh -!”

“Feels good, doesn’t it.” Looks at you like he’s really pitying you. “I give you another two minutes.”

“Just - I - just -“ You feel insane, so hot from his attention, pleasure building wickedly fast in your lower stomach. “I need - give me a break.”

“Uh-uh,” he says, wrapping his free arm tight around you and fucking his finger nice and slow in and out of you. Your jaw clenches, squirming to get away from the pleasure, but his arm keeps you planted in place. “Didn’t say twenty minutes with breaks, did I? Not gonna let you cheat.”

Steve’s fingers working in tandem, your mind begins fogging over. You continue squirming - away from or towards him, you’re not exactly sure.

“Didn’t think you’d last this long,” he mumbles. “You’re easy, though.”

“It’s too much,” you whine. Six minutes left. He doesn’t even seem phased.

“I know,” he coos. “Overwhelming, huh? Can’t act like a big girl now, can you?”

You hate the way that’s fueled your fire. Desperate to hold on, you lean forward, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Fingernails dig into his skin through his shirt and vest and he smiles at your reaction.

“Go ahead and hide, baby, but I better see your face when you cum.”

You take a shaky breath and bite down onto his shoulder. Steve groans, fingers picking up their pace, and now you’re really, truly fucked.

You try to think of anything else. Car payment. Potholes on Main Street. Library fines. Keith.

But Steve’s whispering in your ear, saccharine, his voice a velvety deep tenor that makes your chest vibrate. “There we go, good girl. You’re gonna cum so hard for me, huh? You’re so easy. Give it up so good, don’t you? Just for a few extra bucks? Or did you really want played with? Starting to think it’s the latter, babe.”

“Steve,” you cry, thighs shaking and clenching. Steve surely has no feeling in his hand but he keeps up his work, anyway. Three minutes to go.

“Uh-huh, I know, so hard, isn’t it? Just love being fucked on my fingers so much. When I get that extra hour I’m gonna see how many you can take. You’re so tight, gonna take a whole fist to get you ready for my cock.”

You’re seriously shocked. And you’re so desperate for it that your clit tenses up, ready to burst, ready for your vision to go black and for you to moan embarrassingly loud right on Steve’s lap. You reach down for his wrist, gripping it tight, shaking your head and scrunching your face.

“Go on,” he praises, smiling wide, working just a little faster. “Cum for me, give it up, pretty girl.”

You squeal and bury your head into Steve’s shoulder again while you cum, your hips grinding against his hand, making it drip. Steve laughs, moves his arm so he’s rubbing your back instead of pinning you down. “Oh, that felt so good, didn’t it? Feels so good being bitched out on my lap, huh?”

And that’s it. You cum again. Clenching down, shouting into his skin, teeth piercing it open. Steve gasps and groans, lets you ride his hand until your hips still and you’re panting, jaw unclenching from his flesh.

“What did I tell you?” he asks, still rubbing your back. “That was two with two minutes to spare, sweetheart. Want me to put another sign up? You might be busy for a while.”

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #hopefully this makes sense and is hot lol

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whytheylosttheirminds · 16 hours

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron

(Prologue and Chapter 1)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

Prologue

Before gold, before grams, before the gun, there was you. Back when there weren’t crosses to steal, lines to snort, cops to run from, there was you. Long summer nights on the Druthers, your mom blowing up your phone ‘cause you missed curfew again. Skipping class and riding to the beach on the back of his bike. All the way back to grade school, playing tag and pretending you were pirates. Then middle school, that kiss under the lifeguard tower, a first for both of you. In high school, the night you got back from the “character-building summer camp” you had been shipped off to and you shared your other first. When you were first together, it didn’t even hurt, but just felt like fucking finally.

He remembers it all, taking all of his strength to keep it stuffed under the surface. The coke, the violence, the drama he creates in his wake cover you up nicely, until those nights when he’s dead asleep and there you are again, leaving. When he wakes, it all comes back to him. How he sat on the curb and watched you go, bloody and hurt from the night that was your final straw. How he showed up on your doorstep the next day, like he was five-years-old again asking if you could come outside and play. How your mother told him you were gone and wouldn’t tell him where you went.

“Honey,” she said with something like pity in her voice, “Promise me, you’ll let her go, let her be happy.”

A promise he kept, until the day you rolled back into town with no warning. Your timing could not have been worse. After the summer from hell, the summer that made him a killer, he finally felt like he was in control. It wasn’t until he saw you, the only person in the world that ever really knew him, that he realized he had no idea who he was.

Chapter One

You clutched your phone tight, reading and rereading the message. One you used to get nearly every night but hadn’t seen in two long years.

party at cameron’s tonite !!

It was a group text, sent by the girl from your high school you bumped into in the grocery store earlier that day. You had been back on the island for all of an hour before inevitably seeing someone you knew. You tried to duck quickly into the cereal aisle, but she caught your eye before you could disappear, an action you were infamous for.

“Omg, we need to hang out soon!” She had said, before handing you her phone to put your new number in.

You smiled your fakest smile and said, “it’s a must!” You didn’t think either of you really meant it, but apparently she had.

There were eleven or twelve other numbers in the group text, none you had saved, but you assumed they were likely other people from your high school. She probably just added anyone in her contacts she could think of, not even stopping to realize she was inviting the Kook prince’s former princess to his party. Your relationship had been the stuff of legend on this island. Everyone had an opinion, you were practically a celebrity couple, and it was the biggest news on the island for months when you left, suddenly disappearing overnight. Some real shit must’ve gone down around here since then to make it such old news that this girl didn’t even think about it when adding you to this text.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you couldn’t believe it when you felt yourself typing out i’ll be there :)

You wore your hair down, the way you always used to have it in high school. After you left, you had cut it short, wanting to shed away as much of your old life as you could, but in the last few months you’d started to let it grow back. Now it flowed down to the middle of your back, tickling the skin of your shoulders where the thin spaghetti straps of the little dress you had on left them exposed. You let the front pieces fall around your face, a sort of curtain to keep an extra layer between you and the other partygoers.

You could not believe you were here. For real this time, not in a dream as you had been every night for two years, but really here.

As you walked down the gravel path, it all came rushing back. The smell of Rose’s garden, the distant sound of the ocean lapping against the shore, the low thud of the music echoing through the crisp evening air. How many times have you walked down this path? How many nights had you spent here, your senses filled with the glory of Tannyhill, the glory of him? And yet now it felt so heavy, the sights, sounds, smells of it all were nearly choking you. Tears welled in your eyes, but something kept your feet walking towards those grand front doors, towards him.

Four years earlier…

The glass panes of the front door are slightly blurred, only revealing the soft lighting of the grand entryway on the other side. You had crossed this threshold at least a thousand times in the ten years since your family moved to this island. Knocking felt strange, you felt so small standing here in the porch light, surrounded by moths and the thick coastal August air. An envelope, wrinkled from being opened and rifled through so many times, was clutched between your clammy hands.

A figure you couldn’t quite make out approached the door, and your heart pounded in your ears as you hoped desperately it would be him who opened the door. But it wasn’t.

“Oh, hey - I- hi, Mr. Cameron,” you stammered, ever intimidated by the island’s most powerful man.

“Y/N,” Ward nodded cordially. “It’s after 10pm.”

You smiled weakly, if you felt small before, you feel positively infantile now.

“I was just hoping I could see Rafe for like, just a second,” you pleaded, putting on your sweetest smile.

“He’s studying,” Ward said. “You can come back tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Before you could protest, the door was closed and the blurred figure retreated into the house.

Never one to give up, you stuffed the letter into the back pocket of your jeans, and stepped back from the porch, sizing up the massive house to see which rooms still had lights on. You knew the blueprint of this place by heart, checking off each family member mentally as you scanned their window for signs of life. Wheezie’s room? Dark. Sarah’s room? Dark. Rose and Ward’s room? Still lit. This would have to be a stealth mission.

You snuck around the side of the house and looked up at the last window on your list. To your excitement, the room was still lit. You saw a long shadow pass by the curtains, and you actually jumped a little from the thrill. After spending the longest summer of your life apart from the one person you wanted to spend it with, he was actually right there, just two stories off the ground.

You traveled 800 miles today, what was a few more feet? Blocking out the better judgment ringing in the back of your mind, you picked up a few pebbles from the rocky path that leads to the backyard, and started climbing the big tree that grew right up past Rafe’s balcony. How you were gonna get from the tree to the balcony? That was five-minutes-from-now-you’s problem. You chuckled to yourself as your body naturally found each branch and knot on the tree. You used to have competitions when you were kids to see who could climb this tree the fastest, and you beat Rafe everytime. You remembered the shocked look on his face the first time he saw you scurry up the tree, you were hoping for a similar level of approving surprise once you got where you were going.

Once you reached the branch directly across from Rafe’s balcony, you pulled one of the pebbles from your pocket and chucked it at his window as hard as you could.

“Shit,” you whisper-yelled as the throw fell short and the pebble dropped, loudly knocking into the first floor window below. You couldn’t afford another noise-causing miss, so you recalculated the throw and bit your lip as you lobbed the next pebble hard. It smacked into Rafe’s window with a loud TINK and you smiled in satisfaction. You waited a moment, then two, and still nothing. The shadowy figure did not return to the curtain. You only had one pebble left, and you had never been good at climbing back down this tree. Remembering the time you fell out of it onto the waiting Rafe below, and you both ended up needing stitches, your stomach twisted in fear. You took in a deep breath and held it, letting the last pebble fly. Another sharp TINK, and a moment of baited breath later, the tall shadow finally returned to the window.

Rafe opened the curtains harshly and you immediately broke into a wild smile. He looked so cute in his fitted gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, his normally gelled back her falling in messy pieces around his face. You held back a giggle, delighted by the completely confused look on his face as he searched out the window for the cause of the sound. He lifted the window open and examined the two pebbles that had fallen on the windowsill.

You took the opportunity to whisper a loud “psssst.” His face shot up in surprise and his eyes finally found you in the tree, just a few feet off of the balcony. Where you expected to see surprised delight on his face, you instead caught something cold and irritated.

“Y/N,” he whisper-called to you. “What are you doing?”

“I just got back, I wanted to see you!” You called to him, hoping his apparent anger was just in response to his own shock.

“I’m busy.” Rafe went to close the window and you felt your moment of opportunity slip away.

“Wait!” you stopped him. “Please don’t make me climb down. We both know it won’t end well.” You smiled a sweetly shy smile you hoped would melt his icy demeanor a bit.

He sighed and looked at you annoyed for a moment before climbing out the window, his height requiring him to duck low in order to make it through. He had grown even taller over the summer, he must have hit 6 foot by now, maybe more. Your stomach flipped as you watched his athletic frame emerge from his bedroom, now able to see how defined his arms looked in the moonlight. You’d always thought he was a cute boy, but the way he looked right now lit a fire in your belly. Then you realized what it was - while you were gone, the cute boy-next-door had become a man.

“Just reach over,” he directed you.

“I don’t think I can without falling,” you explained. “I think I’m gonna have to jump.”

“Are you stupid?” He scoffed humorlessly.

Your heart sank, the boy you left behind three months ago never would have called you stupid.

“It’ll be fine, you just have to catch me,” you explained.

He rolled his eyes and opened his arms, reaching them over the bannister of the balcony, “fine.”

The brief moment of joy you got from his submission faded fast as you made the mistake of looking down at the gap between the tree and the balcony.

“Actually…” you said, bravery fading.

“What, are you scared?” Rafe taunted.

“No!” you insisted. You smiled at him, suddenly feeling like the two of you were ten again and he was daring you to jump off the trampoline into the pool in your backyard.

Now or never. With a deep breath and a sharp yelp, you threw yourself out of the tree and towards his waiting arms on the balcony. As promised, he caught you, and pulled you quickly over the bannister. His arms wrapped around your waist, yours around his shoulders, he held you there just a few inches off the ground.

You flattened your hands against the taut muscles of his shoulders, delighting in the strong warmth of them. But before you could fully revel in the feeling of being in his arms, he released his grip on your waist and you dropped the final few inches to the ground. Rafe quickly stepped back, breaking the lock your arms had around his neck. Despite the southern summer heat, the air between you suddenly felt ice cold.

“Rafe,” you whispered, stepping towards him, but he only pulled further away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without even looking at you.

Rafe started back towards his window, and something gave you the feeling he was not going to invite you to follow him through it.

“I need to talk to you,” you started to explain.

Rafe whipped around to face you, the way he towered over you at his new height sending goosebumps down your spine.

“Why don’t you go talk to your new boyfriend instead?” He snapped.

You were so stunned that you let out a little laugh, which only made his furrowed brow scrunch even more in anger.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“I saw the pictures your camp was posting on their website all summer. I saw you wrapped around that douchebag.”

It took a moment of confused silence for you to realize what he was talking about, when it finally dawned on you, you laughed again. He turned from you and started heading towards the window again, but you caught his arm, your hand not able to fit even halfway around it.

“No, Rafe,” you explained, “That was just Andy, one of the other campers. We were doing a trust fall exercise. He dropped me like two seconds after that!”

Despite himself, Rafe turned to look at you, eyes examining you nervously.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a small voice, wishing desperately that he didn’t care.

You smiled softly, there he was - your boy.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, showing him the small scar on your wrist. “Just a little scrape.”

A moment passed, he avoided your eyes but allowed you to step closer, your hand sliding down his arm and slipping into his, his fingers reluctantly intertwining with yours. You knew exactly what words he was struggling to find, but decided to let him get there on his own.

Finally, “Why didn’t you answer my letters?”

Your other hand reached into your back pocket and pulled out the envelope you had tucked away. You held it out to him wordlessly. He took the letter and held it to the light coming from his room, examining it with a confused look. The envelope was addressed to him at Tannyhill, from you at camp. When he finally noticed the “return to sender” label, it all clicked.

“They kept getting returned to me, I don’t know why,” you said as you squeezed his hand. “I asked to use my phone to let you know but they wouldn’t let me. I almost just snuck out of camp and came home so I could explain it to you.”

“Your mom would’ve been so mad,” he said, finally, finally smiling at you.

“Then she would’ve just taken away my phone and we’d be back where we started,” You said. “There’s like twenty more letters like that. I don’t know why they never made it to you, it’s like someone was sabotaging me.”

Rafe seemed satisfied with your explanation and the remaining bit of anger on his face melted away completely. He stuffed the letter in his pocket and suddenly threw his arms around you, lifting you in the air as you yelped in surprise, giggling as he started planting sloppy kisses all over your face and neck.

“Shhh, baby, my parents will hear you,” he whispered. “They’ve got me locked in my tower because I failed my last quiz in this fucking summer school pre-calc class.”

“Rafe!” you said in mock-scandal. “Naughty language!”

“Oh, baby, I can say way naughtier things than that,” he growled in your ear, your cheeks now burning from real-scandal.

“C’mon,” he said, setting you down and grabbing your hand, to lead you to his still-open window.

He placed his large hand on the small of your back as he helped you through the window, climbing in after you and closing it slowly so as to not make a sound.

You and Rafe had done some more-than-kissing things before, but that was the night you gave yourselves to each other completely. He held you after, softly kissing the scar on your arm from when Andy had dropped you.

“Never gonna let that Andy asshole touch you again,” he said between kisses. “He can find his own girl, you’re mine.”

You giggled and he looked up at you in confusion.

“Rafe,” you were laughing hard now. “Andy’s gay.”

He broke into a bashful grin, a quick blush of embarrassment swept across his cheeks before he grew serious again and started kissing up your arm.

“I don’t care,” he said. “They should all know - all the Andys and Jakes and Chads and whoeverthefucks,” his kisses had reached your neck, “no guy is ever gonna get to touch you like me.” He pulled back and looked into your eyes with a sincerity that squeezed your heart. “Gonna love you forever. Gonna marry you, make you a mom. Never gonna spend three months, or even three fucking days away from you again. That what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, meaning it with your whole being.

“Good.”

Now…

The memories flooded your brain as you opened the door and stepped into the home you used to think would be yours someday. The party was swelling, the vibe feeling so familiar and so uncomfortable at the same time.

You made your way straight to the kitchen, desperately needing a drink. Every step you took sent a memory flashing through your thoughts like a shock to your brain. You passed the living room and saw movie-nights-turned-make-out-sessions on the couch, playing mario kart with Sarah and Wheezie while Rafe laughed at your hyper-competitiveness, prom pictures in front of the fireplace. You passed the dining room and saw the first family dinner you were invited to, how you made Ward laugh with a story about fishing your own dad used to tell, how Rafe squeezed your thigh under the table in pride. You entered the kitchen and saw the time you and Rafe set off the smoke alarm trying to make pancakes, the time he lifted you onto the counter and went down on you when his family was out of town. And then, standing by the keg, you saw the girl who invited you, clearly plastered already.

“Omg!” She yelled when she saw you.

Everyone else in the large kitchen turned and looked at you. It felt dramatic, but you could swear the whole room fell silent when they saw you, a comical record scratch playing in your head.

The girl who invited you ran over to you, beer sloshing over the side of her solo cup and onto her shirt.

“I can not believe you came,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I completely forgot when I invited you, about, you know, you and-”

“Can I get one of those?” you cut her off quickly, gesturing towards her drink.

Before she could answer, a loud crash came from outside the kitchen’s open french doors. The heads that had all been watching you suddenly snapped toward the sound towards the crowded back yard. When the loud bellow of a man’s voice rang out, the people in the kitchen all ran towards the unfolding scene. You pushed through the crowd and out the doors, drawn inexplicably to the voice. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you realized why - it was Rafe.

There in the backyard, packed with drunk people and lit by string lights, Rafe stood with his fist clenched in the collar of some guy’s white button up, forcefully pulling the scared looking dude toward him while he yelled.

“I said none of that fucking cheap shit,” Rafe yelled at the guy you now realized was a cater-waiter.

“I’m sorry sir, I-” Rafe threw the man down and he fell back in the dirt.

“This isn’t some ghetto block party out in The Cut,” Rafe yelled. “Do you know who’s fucking house you’re at right now?”

The crowd around you watched, most smiling in support of the man they looked at like he was a rockstar. You cringed at the looks of admiration in their eyes and took Rafe in with your own.

He looked different, harder. His floppy blond locks had been shaved off, and he had traded old t-shirts and jeans for slacks and a polo. He was as tall and built as you remembered, but instead of it being endearing, it was just scary as he looked down at the poor server like he was gonna kill him.

Then he spat on him. He actually spat on another human being. It disgusted you in more ways than one, and you felt your heart breaking in your chest as you realized you had no idea who this man was. The boy who held you on that night four years ago and promised to be yours forever clearly didn’t live here anymore. You turned quickly and pushed back through the crowd, unable to watch another second of this sickening display of toxic masculinity.

Rafe glared down at the pogue-scum in the dirt below him, an eerily familiar feeling washed over him as something moved quickly in the corner of his eye. He turned at just the right moment to see a whip of long hair disappear through the crowd. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t possibly be. Surely, it was not you.

to be continued

a/n: Hiiii this is the first fic I've posted in about 10 years!! Hope you enjoyed, forgive me if I'm rusty! More chapters to come :)

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strawberrymochin · 2 days

Text

Springtime Fushiguros♪

Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.

Lullaby-: Megumi caught cold so you sing a lullaby to help him fall asleep. (Jealous gojo)

As much as you love the smell of freshly wet soil during rainy season; the sound of water droplets pouring down from the dusky clouds, kissing the earth; the croaking of the frogs— megumi hates it.

Due to the weather changing season and unfortunate circumstances, last day he came back from school, totally drenched in rainwater. Not to mention, his drenched hair, reminded you of his striking resemblance to his late father—toji fushiguro.

You have only seen him once, when shoko introduced his photo to you as the zenin guy born without any cursed energy; who killed riko amanai. And who almost killed your— nvm. You don't even wanna recall those days. It hurts too much.

Thankfully, gojo was out for a mission along with ichiji and he wasn't about to return till tomorrow morning. He would probably shout out loud, clinging up to you, asserting his precious megumi being possessed by toji.

As for now you've tucked him to bed, beside Tsumiki, after feeding him chicken and bok choy soup especially including ginger with mushrooms cuz that's how he likes it. It will help unblocking his sinuses, getting rid of his cold faster.

You exit the kids room, switching off the lights.

You were almost done with dishes, scrubbing off the rice bowl of tsumiki, humming a tune, close to your heart, which you have no idea where you picked up from, unaware of a tall shady figure approaching you.

All of a sudden you felt two arms sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Wh—" your squeak was cut off shortly, by a hand pressed to your mouth, "shh! baby...wouldn't want the kids to wake up." Satoru' velvet voice coaxed you to calm down. His warm breath fanned near your neck, as he slowly trailed kisses over there.

"You were supposed to come back tomo—" a gasped as gojo bit on the shell of your ear, "finished the mission fast," he said, "so I can spend the night with you", nibbling on your ear.

He pushes his pelvis forward, so it touches your lower back, slowly grinding on you as his hands roam on your body, trying to memorize every curve, remembering the bliss of having you close to him.

You figured out he teleported inside the apartment as the door was locked and gojo doesn't carries house keys with him since he would loose it somewhere.

"Satoru i haven't finished doing the dishes" you say as he presses kisses on you shoulder blade.

"We can finish that later. I need you." He says, removing the bowl from your hand, opening the tap to wash your hand. "Need you so bad." You could feel his voice longing with desire as he turns you around hastily.

You find your hands wrapped around his neck, his lips locked on yours, tongue slipping in. Every ounce of oxygen disappeared from your lungs as you were making out with him.

"Aachho"

Your eyes widened as you push satoru away hard, whipping your head to the side to see the door knob twisting.

Megumi comes out rubbing his nose looking for you.

"Megumi you need something?" You ask, trying to cool down your racing heart.

"I can't sleep." He walks up to you, dragging his blanket, practically mopping the floor.

"If you can't sleep then go to bed and count sheeps." Megumi gets startled at the voice, which he recognise as his sensei's.

"Why are you here?"

"Cuz it's my house."

"Weren't you supposed to come tomorrow? Why are you early?" The kid expresses his disappointment.

"And weren't you supposed to be asleep now? Why are you up disturbing my mome—" your sharp glare ceases gojo's further words.

"Then, how 'bout i sing a lullaby to you? It will help you fall asleep. Kk." You say, turning your head to Megumi, guiding him to your bedroom.

"Wait—so he's sleeping with us?" Gojo questions stopping you midway.

"Yeah. And yeah please finish the dishes before you join us. Let's go 'gumi." You vanish into your bedroom along with Megumi.

"Such a cock-block" he whispers, leaning on the counter, rolling up his sleeves before getting started with the dishes, beefing about him. " He gets to cuddle with my y/n more than I do. Damn it."

[ A few moments later ]

Gojo enters, as your soft humming echoes through the room.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

The moonlight catcher reflected several lights, twinkling around the room as you layed there along with Megumi, patting him to sleep.

How I wonder what you are!

He couldn't help but wonder; wonder what you are; how did he get so lucky? To have you behind his back.

Up above the world so high,

He needs you like one needs oxygen to breathe; he would search for you in every birth like river searches for sea. His eyes would be yearning, dying for one look of yours since you are the world he has ever known.

Like a diamond in the sky.

You may have no idea, but the only star in his sky, whose shine would even fade diamonds is you.

Megumi's asleep. You sit up straight, looking at gojo, leaning at the door frame. You tilted your head, smiling apologetically.

Gojo sighs playfully, straighting up himself, walking past the bedroom door. A few secs later he brings in a sleeping tsumiki, cradled in his arms, laying her beside Megumi, tucking them into warm blankets as gojo joins in.

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dreamdollasmo · 2 days

Text

“Shhhh.”

“Dr. Zayne…”

He put his thumb on the bridge of your glasses, pushing them up before moving it to your bottom lip.

His piercing green gaze followed his touch, staring intently at your flushed face.

“Suck.”

Well, I guess this is what you get for your incessant teasing.

But you couldn’t help it when Zayne looks so damn fine.

So now here you both were… pool cues abandoned to the side, with Zayne leaning back on the sides of the pool table and you on your knees in front of him.

His cock positioned right at your lips.

The red tip never looked so appealing, your eyes fleetingly followed the vein on the underside of his lengthy dick.

All you had done was innocently declare that you needed to powder your nose and you would be back soon.

It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t help but to have the idea to take your panties off while you were in there and unabashedly slipped them into his pockets upon your return.

Who knew he would react so viscerally? Who knew he would drop his pool cue and pull you into such a passionate kiss?

Who knew he’d bring his hands into your hair and tug softly at it, sending shivers down your spine? Who knew he’d drag his hands to your shoulders and gently push you down to your knees?

Clearly none of this was your fault… although your actions undoubtedly did lead you to where you are now.

“But Zayne,” you feigned worry to make yourself seem at least a little responsible. “What if someone walks in?”

“You choose to worry about that now? Where was this sense of awareness five minutes ago?”

Fuck. He got you there.

Ugh, whatever. You loved being a hot messy slut anyways.

Not breaking eye contact, you slowly took the tip of his cock into your mouth, causing him to hiss softly.

“My godddd,” you thought to yourself, eyes rolling back. “He tastes so fucking good.”

You temporarily got caught up in licking all the precum from the tip of his pretty cock, causing him to grab your chin and tip your head upwards to look back at him.

You peered up at him from the top of your frames.

“Concentrate.”

You smiled to the best of your ability, as well as you could with his cock in your mouth.

You felt the grip on your chin tense. You got him right where you want him.

Taking the hand on your chin into your own hand, you moved his hand to the back of your head.

Once again looking up at him over the top of your glasses, you slowly took his entire length into your mouth.

“Fuck…” he cursed, throwing his head back.

Hearing the sounds he was making and looking up at his flushed face made you wanna cum right then and there.

You kept at a steady rhythm for quite a while, bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

Running your tongue along the vein adorning his pretty dick, and giving an extra attentive suck to the tip every time you reached it.

Occasionally, you felt his hips stutter and buck forward to get even more of his dick down your throat.

His deep groans echoed through the room.

You knew exactly what he wanted.

Taking every inch of him in your mouth, you slowly released him and jerked him off while you briefly spoke.

You pushed up your glasses.

“Fuck my mouth, Dr. Zayne.”

Shivers went down his spine. He knew you were bold, but hearing it in such an intense moment made his knees weak.

Thank god he has a stellar poker face.

The room went silent for a few moments. You really couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

He moved the hand that was jerking him off so eagerly.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He said, almost breathlessly.

You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out; his invitation to begin.

Fuck, he felt like he could cum at just the sight of you.

He slowly pushed his cock back into your mouth, rubbing his tip back and forth a few times on your tongue, making you moan.

Once he was bottomed out in your throat, he started fucking your mouth in earnest.

Surely the sounds you two were making were audible from outside the room… but neither of you cared right now.

Each drag of his dick over your tongue and into your throat made you moan and gasp.

You’d always loved giving him head.

Zayne was making a fair amount of noise too. He was always relatively quiet but how could he be so in this situation?

Neither of your broke eye contact as he used you like a sex toy.

Your glasses moving with each thrust, and your eyes watering with tears running down your cheeks and ruining your mascara.

“I’m close.”

You hummed appreciatively, desperately. You wanted to make him cum so bad.

“If you look at me like that…” he groaned once again, started to speed up and get rougher.

A mixture of spit and precum slid past your plump lips and down your chin and he fucked your throat.

Suddenly grabbing the back of your head, he pushed his cock all the way down your throat as he came, making small thrusts to drag out his orgasm.

You swallowed every bit of his cum that he spilled down your throat.

Pulling himself out of your mouth, his cock twitched once more as another spurt of cum leaked out, this time landing on your face and glasses.

Usually Zayne would move quick to assist you, but neither of you moved.

He used his thumb and smeared the cum that landed on your cheek to the corner of your lips on into your mouth, which you readily accepted.

Once again looking up into his gorgeous eyes, you sucked on his thumb obediently.

Zayne exhaled softly.

“What am I going to do with you?”

#lads smut #lads x reader #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace imagines #love and deepspace #zayne smut #lnd zayne #zayne x you #l&ds zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #dr zayne

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misguidedasgardian · 2 days

Text

The Hour of the Wolf (XI)

XI. A ray of sunlight

MASTERLIST

Summary: You never thought you could feel like this

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, might miss some warnings, brestfeeding on this chapter

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3,4 k

Notes: Alright… sorry for the confusion… There were three ravens, Reader first wrote to Cregan to confess to him that she was pregnant and she wanted him back and whatnot… that raven GOT LOST, got eaten by a snake… idk… she then received a raven from Cregan, who, as he never received anything, he wrote to her telling her he was fine and he would like her to visit him up North, reader thought he received the letter, and didn’t care, and it was answering to it, so she just wrote a letter telling him she couldn’t make the journey, that’s it!

“Look at him”, you whispered, “he is perfect”, you admired his beautiful round face, his perfect little nose, his long eyelashes, his round squishy cheeks

“He is”, Cregan whispered, kissing your temple, “you had done so beautifully, my sweet Queen”, you looked into his eyes and you found content, and pride

But your eyes returned to your baby, your dragonling.

He had silver hair, beautiful silver hair, just like yours, and then when he barely open his eyes, he revealed them to be icy gray, like his father

He was so perfect, a perfect Targaryen Prince

The blood of Old Valyria and the blood of the first men run through his little veins.

You were so, so proud of him, of yourself, you had every maester check his health, and they all agreed, that the New Prince of Dragonstone was healthy, strong, and, as he had proven to you, had a strong set of lungs in him.

“My love”, called Cregan, but you only hummed, not letting your eyes wander from your newborn son, “there is people wanting to meet him”, he said softly, it was the middle of the next day, and you wanted to savor your alone time with him a little longer.

“Later”, you said simply

“They had been waiting since yesterday”, he said, kissing the top of your head again, “and we need a name”

“I just gave birth, can’t they please leave me alone for a bit?”, you asked, softly but angrily

“This baby is the next ruler of the seven Kingdoms”, he said softly, “there are protocols…”, you looked at him severely

“Bring in my brother and Jahaera”, you conceded, he barely nodded, and went away, giving you a breath of relief. You didn’t want anyone else but your family in here

The children entered with big, curious, scared eyes, when they landed on you, they came to your side quickly, Aegon was sure to be right there next to you, to catch the closest and first look at his baby nephew

“He is a bit red”, it’s the first thing he mumbled, making you giggle

“He was just born”, you whispered, “it’s normal”, you explained softly, Jahaera didn’t say anything, but looked at the baby with big ghostly eyes, and for the very first time, you thought you catched a glimpse of a smile

“Jahaera? want to hold him?”, she seemed truly surprised, you just patted the bed right next to you, and she climbed to your side, when she was settled, you placed your baby in her arms, she seemed content, only watching him in her frail arms

“He is small”, she murmured, you only smiled, he was a bit small, and… “made of ice and fire”, she whispered

“What?”, you asked, but you were interrupted when Cregan opened the door, he stood there, with a warm smile on his face.

You didn’t even know how you were going to name him, I mean, you had some ideas, and you were not even going to ask your husband, he, your firstborn, was of the realm, of the Iron Throne, he had to have a name of Old Valyria

Jahaera excuse herself, she had a lesson with her septa, but Aegon stayed, sitting there in the bed by your side, Cregan had left to gather the court

“Can I ask you something?”, your baby brother asked

“Anything”, you answered truthfully

“Now that you have a son… will you… will you still love me the same?”, he asked, and his big eyes told you he was extremely worried. That truly surprised you, but you smiled softly nonetheless.

“Of course!”, you said with a big smile, “you are my baby brother, I will never stop loving you, and I will never stop caring for you, you heard me? you are stuck with me, and your little nephew for life”, you giggled

“Really?”, he asked, hopefully

“I promise”, you assured him.

Cregan came back, thinking he had given you enough time, Aegon as he saw him, he excused himself from the room, and left

“A name, wife”, he demanded. He was the father, but he is letting you name your child, the prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne

“Aerion”, you said with your son back in your arms, “of House Stark, until he ascends the Throne, as Aerion Targaryen”, you said firmly

“Good”, he said, “the small council is waiting”, he said, and again, he did not expect a no for an answer

“Very well”, he received your son, as you stood from the bed, the maids had placed you the “looser” dress you had, but not less impressive than any others, it was soft red velvet, with black and gold details. Your hair is barely arranged by two small braids arranging it off your face.

You barely let the maids touch your child, but they had dressed him too, in a simple golden attire. He was sleeping in his father’s arms, and you held onto him too, as you walked the hallways.

You had to present your son to the court

Not letting them see him, would awaken all sorts of gossip, that maybe there was something wrong with him, or he was weak, or any nonsense like that, this was going to make it clear to everyone…

The House of the Dragon stood strong, with you, your son, your brother, and your niece.

Especially with the silver hair on his head.

“You have done beautifully, wife”, Your husband said, as he saw you pondering, with your eyes lost in front of you

“Thank you husband”, you answered simply

You were already tired as you reached the huge doors, you hoped you didn’t have to sit on the throne today, you didn’t think you could handle it. You were still really sensitive.

“Lady (y/n) of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Roynar and the first Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the Realm, and her Lord Husband Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and Hand to the Queen, would like to present to the court, Aerion, of House Targaryen and Stark, Prince of Dragonstone!”, you might as well announce it now, the shocked faces appeared before you, your son was the heir, and next King of the Seven Kingdoms.

The huge doors of the entrance of the throne room opened in front of you, you tried to smile as the entire court, your court, tried their best they could to catch a glimpse of the sleeping Prince in Cregan’s arms

You walked slowly to the front, smiling and nodding to everyone on their way

All the Lords and Ladies nodded at you, muttering words of kindness

“Congratulations my Queen”

“What a fine Prince your grace!”

“You had been blessed, and you had blessed us all”

And more

So much more

Your council had been waiting for your approval, to start the celebrations, feasts, tournaments, parties, the first ones since the end of the war

“Behold! Prince Aerion of House Targaryen and Stark!”, chanted Arryk, you faithful Queen’s guard.

It was a tiring affair, you should be resting, and Cregan thought so as well, but you you a Queen, and if you wished to prove those who wouldn’t see your mother on the throne wrong, you have to stand there, with your newborn son, in front of the court as you barely gave birth the day before as the sun was setting

“In the celebrations of the birth of my son, I announce a big tournament, to join all countries as one, and also, a big feast to go with it!”, you said loudly, and the entire room bursted in cheers and applause, making Aerion cry angrily, as he was startled by the loud noise

Cregan smiled grabbing him carefully with his strong hands and showed him to the entire room, shortly, then he cuddled him into his strong chest, he looked so proud

The tournament was going to be held in two months time

This was a new era, you constantly had to be remained of

The kingdoms were still healing, you were still healing… you need this, you did

You were finally “allowed” to go back to your rooms, you dismissed the nannies who had offered to take your baby.

It was normal and customary, that you had a small army of women ready to take care of your child, but you didn’t want to let him out of your sight

Is not that you didn't trust them, it was just…

It felt odd

To be apart from him

You had them bring a crib by the side of your bed, as you watched him asleep tears fell down your eyes… oh how you wished your mother was there with you

You had cried for her in the middle of labor, how you needed her warmth, her maternity, her advice, all of her. She was an excellent mother, she adored each and every one of you, and you didn’t know how you were going to do this without her

You were so lonely

You had dismissed your ladies, and the nurses were unfamiliar to you

Because Aegon the Usurper killed your mother’s nurses when he took Dragonstone

You felt so lonely.

The all familiar pain that had installed on your chest came flourishing back again, and you realized it had never left, you just grown accustomed to it

Would she be proud of you?

You imagined your brothers coming to see your son, Jacaerys picking him up from his crib and raising him in his strong arms, you imagined Luke grabbing onto Aerion with gentle hands, accommodating him on his chest with his beautiful smile looking down at his nephew

The guards outside your room presented Cregan who entered the room with scrolls on his hands

“Letters, from your cousins Baela and Rhaena, and one from Lord Co…”

“Dispose of them”, you demanded, you didn’t care

“But…”

“I don’t care what those traitors have to say”, you said bluntly, he had caught you in a wrong moment

“Wife…”, he started carefully, “may I ask why…?”, he asked simply, you guessed he wanted to hear your version of the facts

“Corlys Velaryon served my mother, until it suited him, when the ship was sinking, in the moment my mother needed him the most, he betrayed her, then served the usurper!”, you said bluntly

“He probably was the one who poisoned the usurper”, he said softly

“I guess, it didn’t suit him to keep serving him, I don’t care”, you said angrily, “if he had stayed at my mother’s side like he promised perhaps she would still be here”, you said, you could not forgive him, you wouldn’t allow yourself to

And Baela and Rhaena?

It just hurt too much

At one point they were like your sisters, like real sisters, you had lived together since your mother married Daemon, and… now it just hurts too much. They say Rhaena managed to hatch a dragon, a pink little thing

Good for her

But it just… it hurts… of all the people that could have survived…

You felt guilty for only thinking about it

They were more Corlys Velaryon’s granddaughters that they were your sisters

“Can I read them?”, he asked, you looked at him

You wanted to say no, you did, but you were also terribly curious

Of what they might want or say… What if was indeed something important? and really, it was Cregan, he was the only one you trusted fully

“Yes”, you said shortly, “let me know if there is something important”. He sat by the window, to read the letter by the sunlight, Aerion began to get fuzzy, so you grabbed him gently and started to feed him

Something very frowned upon

Not even your mother had breastfeed her babies

But to your understanding… who better to feed a future King… than a Queen? his mother? You paid it no more mind as he latched onto you, Cregan didn’t even batted an eye

He was frowning a he read the missives

“Is there something they need?”, you asked dismissively, “a threat to our Kingdom?”

“No”, he said simply, “just a call for you, their sister”, he said, he folded the letters and put them away, then he opened the one of Lord Corlys

“They wish you the best regarding the birth of your child and Prince of Dragonstone, and they wish to know that if there is anything they can do for you”

“No requests… that’s a new one”, you said sadly

“Please, help me understand”, he pleaded once again, “what are you thinking?”

“They just keep wanting the fucking throne”, you said bitterly, “that is all this whole thing had been about, the Hightowers and Velaryons alike, each for their own side, sunk their teeth into the targaryen of their choice and bit, ripped and tear them apart for their own convenience, for the fucking throne, killing my entire family in the process, I am done with them”, you sentenced.

“Very well”, he said, “I will stand by you”

“Thanks”, you said smiling softly, not wanting to discuss the issue further

Even if they were true, that they only were calling for you, their “granddaughter” and sister, how could you ever trust that? if you were not seated on the throne, would they still care for you?

You were convinced they only wanting to fall back into your good graces, the graces of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and everything that meant

And the very fact that they knew about the birth of your son so soon unnerved you.

Of course they had spies inside the castle

Perhaps you should burn the letters publicly so words get to them

But it was of no consequence, because that very day, Cregan received important news

His son was arriving

He was in the Crossroads Inn, and he was dying to go and meet him

You allowed him to go with a small force, you had never seen him so happy and excited. He was on his way to meet his son

And taking advantage of that fact, that was going to take him a few days… You realized, thinking about Rhaena…

Your son needed his egg

You had felt Vhaelar restless, and you needed to know if she had laid her clutch of eggs, or, egg

Singular

The very thought frightened you, what if it didn’t hatch? She as well could be the last Dragon, a grown, fertile dragon. You called in a Dragon keeper immediately, and he presented in front of you, the one that went inside the cave with you, the only one who could get close to your Dragon

“This is long overdue, your Grace”, he said with a soft smile

“I cannot go down there myself”, you explained softly, his face then changed. “What's the matter?”, you asked him

“Vhaelar laid eggs, we didn’t know how many, when the prince was born we adventure into the cave to find… one is gone”, it seemed like everything froze around you

“What?”, you asked

“One of the nests was… broken into”, he said

“Why wasn't I informed of this!?”, you asked angrily

“We found it this very morning”, he said quickly

“Raised alarms!”, you said

“The one that stole it… didn’t realize, she laid two eggs”, he gave a signal to Erryk who was at the door and he opened them to reveal two more Dragon Keeper, that brought with them the heating chamber

A sight you never thought you’d see again

They revealed the egg to you, and tears were brought to your eyes, it was golden, golden like the sun

Was it an Omen? Golden like Syrax… Golden like Sunfyre

Who could have possibly stolen my dragon’s egg?”, you asked him

We don’t know your grace, it must have been someone who knows the area, that its been heavily guarded, even though its against the sea, you had maintain guards around it, and over it, so we can’t understand…”, you kept quiet, you could barely go up stairs, you couldn’t go personally.

That is why she was so restless

Somebody stole her egg

“What if it hatches?”, you asked him, fright in your eyes, he didn’t know what to answer

“A dragon will only answer to a Targaryen your grace, in the worst case, it will grow wild, until we can finally know where it is”

“And in the best case?”

“It’s not normal for two eggs to hatch in the same clutch”, he said softly, “if the Prince’s egg hatches… then… someone still had a treasure in their hands but at least, it will not be a dragon”

It did not settle your nerves

You saw the beautiful egg, it seemed to move, you could feel it, the life within it

“Thank you”, you said finally, and they left you alone.

It wasn’t until a week later, as you fixed the skirt on your dress, that you finally realized how important this was.

Rickon Stark, Cregan’s son, was entering the city

Your husband’s child

Your own child, by marriage

A sweet boy of eight

Soldiers entered in front of the comitive, mounted men with the Stark sigil, and then, right after them, Cregan in all his glory, and at his side, on his own horse, a young boy, that even from afar, you could tell he looked exactly like Cregan, same shade of hair, and as they dismounted and walked towards you, you realized, he had his eyes

“Your Grace, my I present to you, my son and heir, Rickon Stark”, presented Cregan

“Your grace”, the boy greeted politely, his big eyes looking at you widely, even though he bowed. Cregan was by his side, looking at his son proudly

“My Lord, you are most welcomed to King’s landing, and to the Red Keep”, you greeted, amused, he smiled shyly.

“Thank you, your grace”, he looked at you with mistrust, and you could understand him, all of this was new for him.

You of course invited them in, the entire household he had brought with him was large, but, the more the merrier, and if having more of his people with him was going to make Cregan and RIckon feel more comfortable, they were most welcomed.

“There is someone I want you to meet”, you said happily, he only nodded, you looked at Cregan as you walked back to your chambers, and he seemed content, “Can I call you Rickon?”, you asked him softly

“Yes your Grace, of course”, he said simply

“Are you my new mommy?”, he asked bluntly, and you looked at Cregan, alarmed, he was amused, but didn’t say anything, you then looked back at the boy who was looking up at you with his big ghostly eyes

“I don’t have to be if you don’t want me to”, you said gently, and that seemed to relax him a bit, “but there is a place I’d like you to fill”, you said with a solemn voice, like you were requesting of him, you opened yourself the double doors to your room

“Which one, your grace?”, he asked solemnly

“How about.. big brother?”, you asked, inviting him to look inside the cradle where his baby brother was sleeping peacefully

“I’d like that”, he said, pleased, but frowned at further inspection of your baby, “why is his hair white?”, he asked, you giggled

“Because he got it from me”, you said softly

“I thought you had white hair because you were old”, he said simply, and you laughed, hard

The sound of your own laugh seemed so foreign to you

You haven't laughed in…

In…

In a long time

“No, no my dear, I was born with my hair like this”, you explained softly, he only nodded, understanding clearly, “so… are you going to be Aerion’s big brother?”, you asked, and he looked at you with a true smile for the very first time, and nodded excitedly

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ilyrafe · 17 hours

Text

𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 ✧ 𝒓. 𝒄.

pairing: ex!rafe cameron x f!reader

warnings: angst, physical injuries, blood (it's brief), objetification of reader (not by rafe).

word count: 1,1k

the vibrating sound of your phone on the bedside table startles you a bit. even with your vision blurry, you manage to read rafe’s name shining on the screen. it’s late, the clock marks fifteen past two, and getting a call from him at this time is worrying, but fighting the fatigue, you answer his call.

“hello?”

“it’s me. you home?” his tone is urgent, which worries you even more. he’s definitely in trouble.

“why?”

“are you home or not?”

“yes, rafe. why are you calling me?”

“i’m at your door and i need your help right now.”

he hangs up abruptly and you sigh, anticipating yet another stressful interaction with rafe. it’s in situations like these that you wonder why you gave him the time of the day for almost a whole year of your life.

rafe is trouble, and you want none of it.

you quickly get up and head to the entrance of your small house. small, but yours. all the furniture, even if it is second-hand, is yours, as it was bought with your money, earned with a lot of sweat, something rafe will never understand.

as soon as you open the door, you come across a bruised and bloody rafe, which scares you. before you can say anything, he enters your house and sits on the tiny couch.

the scene is deplorable.

“rafe! what- what the hell happened to you?!”

“been in a fight, alright? i just can’t come back home looking like this.”

“in a fight with who?”

“i doesn’t matter. just help me.”

you sigh, tired and irritated. rafe is difficult to deal with. he beats the others out of tiredness and that is irritating. you go to the bathroom and grab a small bag with first aid items, and return to the living room right away, sitting next to him on the couch.

he winces when you pat the cotton ball on his bruises, but you don’t feel bad at all. this is what he deserves. you avoid looking him in the eye while you’re cleaning his face up. you know you can’t resist his baby blues.

you take his hands in yours. the contrast of size is beautiful, somehow. his huge, calloused hands with golden rings have always been attractive. his knuckles are red and quite swollen. you clean his hands up and only hear rafe’s huffs when he feels the sting of the rubbing alcohol. you might be doing that on purpose.

very quickly, you put some bandaids where you find necessary and bandage his hand up, where it’s swollen.

“all done.”

“thank you.”

oh, he knows the magic words. you know you’ll regret it, but you have to ask.

“what happened, rafe?”

he sighs and leans back, taking a deep, exhaustive breath.

“it doesn’t matter, y/n. it’s solved, it’s done.”

“you woke me up in the middle of the night, came over unannounced and made me patch you up. i deserve to know what the fuck happened and if i’m in trouble.”

“you’re not in trouble.” he clarifies, as he passes his fingers over the gauze on his hand. “one of barry’s friends said some weird shit about you.”

“who said what?” you frown.

you never really liked barry, let alone his “friends”. they’re beyond shady and you hate how rafe keeps them in his life.

“you don’t want to know.” you cock an eyebrow and rafe sighs once again, defeated. “babe, it’s inappropriate, don’t make me repeat it.”

babe. you forgot how much you loved when rafe called you sweet nicknames. yes, rafe is an overall asshole, but he isn’t all bad, you have to admit it. the thing is that he actively lets his bad side take over, and you can’t handle that.

“say it.”

“it was bryan. he, um… he said he… um…”

“say it, rafe.”

“he said he hoped to be the next in line to be inside your c-”

“okay, i get it.” you feel like crying and throwing up, but you maintain your composure. “he said that because he wanted to get to you, rafe, that’s all. i’ve never even spoken to him.”

you don’t know why you’re explaining yourself to rafe, but you feel like you have to. for some reason, you don’t want him to think you’re a slut that fucks every guy. deep down, you want rafe to realize he lost something really great, but that day may never come.

“i know, i’m not worried about that.” he says. “i just don’t want him near you.”

“rafe-”

“i know we’re not together anymore, and i swear i’m not being controlling, but bryan is bad and i don’t want him near you, ever. okay?”

“okay.”

after your response, rafe seems to relax a bit. he closes his eyes and his smug makes a comeback.

“you should’ve seen his face. what a bitch.”

you roll your eyes and chuckle.

“thank you for defending me, but really, let them talk. they just want to get to you.”

“now they know what happens when they speak of you.”

there’s a brief moment of silence between you both; it’s comfortable.

rafe seems tired, and you really don’t want him to leave, but you know it’s not going to end well if he stays over.

it’s been over four months since the definitive breakup and you’ve tried to go no contact with rafe, but it’s hard because you live in the same place, you have the same friends and rafe never wanted to stop talking to you.

“i still feel like i need to protect you,” he says, breaking the silence.

you lay next to him, your faces being so close, your noses are almost touching. this is dangerous territory, but you don’t care at this point. you touch his cheek so softly, he closes his eyes again.

he leans in, trying to get to your lips, and they touch briefly, before you lean back, effectively rejecting his kiss.

“i think you should go.”

rafe stares at you, clearly hurt. he gets up from your couch and leaves.

if you could, you would do everything necessary to make this relationship work, but that means changing rafe completely, and you don’t know if you’re in love with rafe, or are resigned to the crumbs of kindness he gives you.

no relationship should survive on small moments of love, and you’re no longer satisfied by the thrill of having a good moment with rafe.

when you broke up with him, he begged you for another chance, but you had already given him a thousand chances. you’ve played this game before and you ended up hurt and slightly traumatized.

you can’t change rafe and he doesn’t want to help himself, so there’s nothing left for you to do.

i love feedback, tell me your thoughts! <3

#my writings #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey imagine

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thatacotargirl · 2 days

Note

Hello! I read your cassian x reader period fic and absolutely loved it! I had a request if you don't mind...

one with cassian where maybe reader has been a part of the inner circle for a while and because of this her and cassian have been really really close friends for centuries…but one day on the streets reader locks eye with a male who is her mate…but the male is not cassian just some random person…and she is ecstatic that she has finally found her mate and someone she will be able to spend the rest of her life with because even though she has had a major crush on cassian…she knows he will never return those feelings because she finds herself incomparable and insignificant compared to cassian…however later on the male wants to reject the bond because he doesn't find the reader attractive and mocks her and all…she goes crying back home and cassian finds out and comforts her…maybe months later after the bond with the other male was broken…she finds that the mother has given her a new mating bond…that connects her to the one she has always loved…Cassian❤️

Hi!! Thank you so much for your support! And I LOVE your idea - I hope you like what I’ve done with it!

Inbox is always open for requests ❤️

A Cassian x Reader Imagine

The day that Rhysand saved you from the Autumn Court ranks up there with some of the best days of your life. Also up there is the day that he introduced you as a member of his Inner Circle, and your eyes first lay on Cassian.

You didn’t think there was a single person in all of Prythian who would deny Cassian’s beauty. He was in an entirely different league to any male or female you had met before. What started as lust developed into a crush and, over the centuries, turned into feelings you couldn’t quite describe. Although really, they could be summed up quite easily. You had fallen in love with Cassian.

You were sure Cassian did not return those feelings, but you truthfully didn’t mind. You didn’t want anything to risk destroying the friendship that you had with him. Cassian was the first there to pick you back up when you fell, to dry your tears and make you laugh again, to support you and encourage you to be the best version of yourself. It wasn’t a surprise that you ended up falling in love with him. He cared for you in a way no one ever had before, and you were so grateful to have him in your life, even if you knew it would never be how you truly wanted him.

That was why, when you were walking the streets of Velaris after dropping off a letter for Rhysand, you were ecstatic to lock eyes with a blonde male and feel the snap in your chest as the bond clicked into place. After a brief exchange, you agreed to meet for dinner that night, and you rushed back to the River House to get ready.

“I found my mate!”, you screeched, running through the River House door. Feyre caught your hands and steadied you.

“You what?!”, she replied, eyes wide.

“I found my mate!!!”, you repeat, practically bouncing in her arms with excitement. Feyre grinned and pulled you into a hug as several bodies appeared behind the pair of you.

“Your mate?”.

You looked over Feyre’s shoulder and straight at Cassian. His face was contorted slightly, almost like he was in pain. You quickly raked up and down his body looking for injuries, but you couldn’t see anything obvious.

“That is wonderful news!”, Rhys smiled, reaching over to pull you into a hug. “I knew the Night Court was the right place for you”. He winked as he let you go, and your friends took it in turns to share their congratulations and shower you with hugs and affection. Cassian approached, a forced smile on his face as he pulled you in for a bear hug.

“I’m so happy for you”, he said. He sounded genuine, but there was something empty about it. You knew that he had hoped a few females over the years had turned into his mate, including one of Feyre’s sisters, but the Mother hadn’t yet blessed him. It must be hard for him to see his friends’ mating bonds snap and not his own.

“Thank you”, you smiled, breathless from all the love of your family. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for a date with my mate”. You beamed as you bounced up the stairs, closely followed by Feyre and Mor who insisted on helping you get ready.

Your family waved you off as you left for your date. You chuckled to yourself. They were almost more excited for you than you were for yourself!

As you approached the restaurant, you saw your mate standing by the door. The closer you got, however, the more you felt a deep void in your chest. You tugged the bond as you approached him, a gasp leaving your lips as you realise your figurative hands come up short, the bond no where to be found. Your raise your head to meet his, and his eyes hold an evil gleam.

“You must be stupider than you look if you thought I was going to accept a bond with you”.

You freeze. This wasn’t the same male you spoke with this morning, was it? Seeing your confusion, he takes a step towards you, looming over you in a way so intimidating it made you whimper.

“Look at you. I would be the most foolish man alive to saddle myself with you for all eternity”.

Whilst you did still stick out at the Night Court, quite clearly heralding from different lands, you knew you weren’t unattractive. At least, you didn’t think you were?

You couldn’t bear his smirk any longer. You tried to pull the bond one more time and he noticed.

“It’s gone. Maybe now the Mother will realise the error of her ways and give me a second chance”.

Your heart broke.

You turned on your heels and ran for the River House.

Your family were not expecting you back from your date so soon, so when they heard you come thundering through the front door they all stood abruptly from their chairs. You looked in at them, faces full of concern and sorrow, and couldn't bear the pity. You fled up the stairs to the guest room and slammed the door behind you.

It was only a few minutes later that you heard someone knock at the door and Cassian's scent flooded in. He didn't wait for your reply. He walked over to the bed, sat, and pulled you onto his lap. You leaned into his chest and sobbed.

"What happened?".

"He broke the bond. He said only a foolish man would want to be saddled with me".

Cassian's heart hurt as he held you cried harder, soaking his shirt with your tears. He held you closer, trembling with anger that some male you met on the street could reduce you to tears like this, could take advantage of your kind heart, could throw away the one thing that he had prayed to the Mother every night could be his - your heart. He had wished for centuries for you, for your love, to be yours. This male had it in the palm of his hands and had thrown it away.

"What's wrong with me?", you asked quietly, avoiding his gaze.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You are perfect", Cassian replied back softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Then why didn't he want me?", your voice broke as you whispered the question.

Cassian had no answer. He only held you closer and let you cry in his arms.

8 months later

With the help of your family, you had slowly begun to heal. Your heart was mended piece by piece with each bit of love and care they showered you with. Cassian was by your side every spare moment he had, doing everything in his power to make you smile, laugh. It was music to his ears. You had also resumed your duties to the Night Court, after Rhys had insisted you take a prolonged vacation to focus on yourself and your healing.

It was at one of these Night Court meetings that your life changed forever.

You were characteristically late to the monthly Inner Circle meeting, having spent far too long in the library that morning. You ran into the room, out of breath, giving a sheepish and apologetic smile to Rhys. You went to take your seat beside Mor when you heard Cassian's sharp intake of breath. You looked up at him and felt it. The snap. It was so powerful you could have sworn the entire room heard it. Your eyes locked with Cassian's as you heard Feyre gasp, realising what had happened.

"Looks like the Mother gave you that second chance", Rhys smiled, pulling Feyre into his side as they watched the pair of you process what had just happened.

"My mate", Cassian whispered.

"My mate", you replied, breathless.

Within seconds, Cassian had cleared the table, swooped you into his arms, and walked out the room with you.

"I take it we need to reschedule, Cass?", Rhys called after the pair of you, amused.

Neither of you replied, simply gazing at each other as he carried you up the stairs.

"I prayed to the Mother for you every day for centuries", Cassian confessed, tears filling his eyes. Yours mirrored, as you reached up a hand to hold his cheek.

"I prayed for you too, Cassian".

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian imagine #cassian #acotar oneshot #acotar imagine

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short-yandere-stories · 13 hours

Text

Based on this tumblr post by @thecuriousquest because I couldn't get the scenario out of my head.

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

TW: Forced imprisonment, mentions of punishments, Nanami uses his cursed technique (on an inanimate object), violence, reader being scared of Nanami etc. mentions of attempted murder, SFW.

:✧:��ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

Follow the Rules

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

“...What are you doing?” The low baritone voice suddenly coming from the door to the apartment made you jump, almost losing your balance in your hurry to look as inconspicuous and non-guilty as you could. You snapped your head around so fast to turn to look at your returning captor with wide, surprised eyes so fast that you swore you could feel the vertebrae in your neck crack.

You hadn’t heard the locks unlatch as the keys were turned or heard the door open. Despite being a decent apartment, the door always made a noise when it was opened past a third of the way. You’d been too engrossed in your escape-attempt to hear it. Usually you were on high alert from the time that Nanami usually returned home from work and onwards. You never knew when he had to work overtime in advance, so most late afternoons and evenings were spent nervously looking between the clock and the door, hoping it would never open.

It had been foolish to try to escape at this hour, you knew that, but you couldn’t help yourself when you’d randomly stumbled upon the weird handle-shaped key that the window needed to twist open when you’d been reorganizing a cupboard in your boredom. It had taken far too long to figure out what it was for, and when the clock passed the usual time Nanami usually showed up, you’d thrown caution to the wind and hoped that he would be held up by work for a long time.

You didn’t need to see his eyes behind his tinted sunglasses to know the disappointment they held as he stared at you from the now open door. Without a word, he sat his brown briefcase down on the floor next to him before closing and locking the door.

When he turned to face you again, smoothing out his suit, the displeasure was clear on his face. You remained frozen, like a deer caught in headlights as he glared at you. In a way, the analogy wasn’t too far-fetched. You were cornered just like prey in the face of a far more powerful predator.

“I said, what are you doing?” Nanami repeated, jaw set in a taut line. He was clearly not happy that he had to repeat himself.

Finally, your body kicked into action and you jerked back and away from the halfway open window as if it had given you an electric shock. There was little point to the action, however. The damage had already been done -- he’d seen you by the window, foot on the windowsill and ready to crawl out. There was no easy way to explain it away to soothe his anger.

At the very least, you had jerked away from the window instead of trying to quickly dive out through it. He would most likely have caught up with you before you could even make it all the way out, dragging you back inside. That would have no doubt infuriated him even further.

Nanami began walking towards you with slow, calculating steps, never once looking away from you. Immediately, your hands flew up in front of you, trying to clear the air as you began to stutter out an apology, an excuse -- anything you could manage to get out.

“I-I’m sorry! It was just so warm today and I just wanted some fresh air!” Both you and Nanami knew it was a blatant and pathetic lie. If you’d just wanted some fresh air, why would you have been standing with your foot perched on the windowsill, attempting to squeeze your body through the opening you’d created? Besides, Nanami knew exactly where the key had been hidden away, and there was no way you would have been able to get the window open without it.

He had to give you credit for managing to not only find it, but also figure out what it was and where to use it. It would seem that he had to move even more items to the storage unit in the basement of the apartment that he was renting. It would be a bother to have to walk down there for even more things as he already had to go there to fetch knives for cooking for example, but it couldn’t be helped. You clearly couldn’t be trusted with much.

Nanami’s frown deepened at your words as he approached. He never liked it when you lied, and had even gone as far as to make that one of the rules in your little “household”. Now, not only had you tried to escape, but broken yet another rule he’d set.

Panicked tears formed in the corners of your eyes as the realization of what you’d just said sunk in. You couldn’t stop your body from beginning to tremble as you began to realize how much trouble you were in.

Nanami was a very strict captor, and didn’t hesitate to mete out punishments when deemed necessary when you averted from his wishes or broke any of his rules. You’d broken a lot of them before, especially at the beginning of your imprisonment, though you’d never done anything this out of line before, and most of the punishments you’d received had made you try your hardest to stick to the rules.

A few were easier than others to follow, especially when punishments had resulted in the removal of certain items from the apartment, such as the time when you’d tried to stab him with a knife that you’d snuck back to the bedroom with you. It was easy to follow the rule of “don’t try to attack Nanami” when there were no weapons to do so with.

The harder rules to follow were the ones that demanded physical contact and affection. Nanami had a twisted view of the relationship the two of you had, and wanted it to feel and seem like you two were a regular couple. This included things like sleeping in the same bed, kissing Nanami on the cheek in the morning before he headed off to work, and telling him that you loved him.

Nanami did not particularly enjoy punishing you, nor hurting you, but he knew that a firm hand was needed to make you follow the rules he set. After the punishment, you’d rarely disobeyed again, so clearly his method was providing the result he wanted.

You had never seen Nanami this angry. You almost wanted him to scream at you in fury instead of this calm, cold anger he was displaying. It was unlike any reaction he’d had to anything you’d tried to do, and that scared you to no end. You didn’t want to know what kind of punishment awaited you this time. You’d broken multiple rules, and big, important rules at that. There was no way he was going to go easy on you no matter what you said.

Still trembling, you dashed towards the bathroom with tears flowing down your cheeks in an attempt to postpone the inevitable. Your bare feet clattered against the wooden floor as you stumbled away, yet you didn’t hear Nanami’s pace pick up.

Breathing heavily, you jerked the door open, slamming it shut behind you as soon as you made it through. You caught a glimpse of Nanami still walking towards you at the same pace as before, slowly stalking towards the bathroom door. Somehow, that was infinitely scarier than if he would have ran after you, trying to stop you from locking yourself away.

But really, was there a reason for him to run after you? There was nowhere you could truly escape from him in the apartment. He was a man of near-endless patience, and he knew that this was but a temporary setback, another minor inconvenience to deal with that would ultimately lead to the same end result.

With shaking fingers, you somehow managed to twist the flimsy bathroom lock into a locked position, thanking the heavens that Nanami hadn’t removed the lock from the door when he’d decided to let you roam the apartment freely during the day while he was at work instead of keeping you chained up in the bathroom.

You knew, just as well as he did, that the lock wouldn’t keep him out for long. You knew that he would get to you no matter what you did, but you were desperate to delay that as much as you possibly could.

Blindly, you crawled into the bathtub, gathering your knees to your chest in an embrace in the darkness. Turning the lights on had been the furthest from your mind when you’d closed the door. The cold of the porcelain dug into your bare skin where it connected, but even that did little to take your mind off the paralyzing fear you felt.

You felt too cold and too hot at the same time. The blue shirt Nanami had made you wear was huge on you, but it still felt like the collar was suffocating you as you rocked back and forth, desperately trying to get air into your lungs in between panicked sobs.

“I-I’m sorry,” you sobbed, clutching your hair in your hands, trying to let the burn you felt in your scalp ground you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry,” you whimpered, words becoming mumbled and sounding like little more than garbled noise against your knees.

The handle of the door turned, and then you heard Nanami sigh outside the door when it didn’t give way. He said your name, disappointment evident in his tone. “I’m giving you one chance, and one chance only to open the door,” he said with finality.

You shook your head despite knowing he couldn’t see it. “No,” you gasped, tears running down your cheeks as your body shook.

Nanami growled your name again, but even if you wanted to open the door, you wouldn’t trust your body to be able to carry you over there. “I can’t” you whimpered. You didn’t want to be anywhere near Nanami. You wanted to be back at home, living your life the way you had before Nanami had set his eyes on you.

Even if you didn’t know that he was a Jujutsu sorcerer, he was still both taller than and stronger than you were. The door was hardly an obstacle for him. Such a flimsy lock could easily be kicked in with hardly any trouble.

The now-familiar sound of Nanami loosening his tie cut through the silence, and you hugged your trembling knees tighter to your body. The logical thing to do would be to unlock the door before you exhausted whatever remaining patience the man had, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so despite how terrified you were of the impending punishment.

When you were alone and closed your eyes, you could envision yourself being somewhere else. Somewhere far away from the man who kidnapped you. You could be sitting in a completely different bathtub back home in your own apartment as long as you kept your eyes closed and thought hard enough.

Though even your own thoughts gave you little respite as Nanami once again spoke up, catching your attention by calling your name. “Open the door.” It wasn’t a request.

Stubbornly clinging to whatever misplaced feeling of at least partial freedom you felt by not being face-to-face with him, you gasped out another “No!” hoping beyond hope that he would just leave it alone and leave you alone. You could spend the night sleeping in the bathtub, curled up among bunched up towels, and only leaving the bathroom when you knew he was at work. Alas, that was not to be.

You couldn’t help the shriek that escaped your lips as Nanami’s fist, wrapped in his tie punched straight through the wooden door. Splinters flew through the air, clattering against the tiles, and you buried your face in your knees to protect it from the sharp shrapnel.

Calmly, Nanami uncurled his fist, feeling around blindly for the lock until his fingers brushed against it. With a ‘click’ that felt deafening, the door was unlocked. Slowly, it slid open, revealing Nanami’s silhouette, backlit by the lights in the living room. It painted a menacing picture that made you let out a whimper as you curled in even further on yourself, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“I asked you to open the door,” Nanami said, unwinding the tie from around his hand. “You refused, making me use my cursed technique, and now I need to buy a new door.” You could hear the frown in his voice, but the prospect of having to replace the door was the least of your worries.

A finger curled below your chin, forcing your teary eyes to meet his. “It seems like someone needs to be reminded of the rules we have here, wouldn’t you say so, dear?”

:✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･��✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:

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salaimoi · 20 hours

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will you hold my purse?

how the jjk men would react when you ask them to hold your purse. ib this tt starring: gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, & ryomen sukuna guest appearance from choso kamo

Gojo Satoru

This diva would hold it as if it were his purse to begin with – no shame whatsoever, utterly unbothered by anyone else’s fragile masculinity. He would proudly wear it under his arm – to the point that your purse gets confused as to who its original owner is. He’ll get sooo into character that if someone got too close for comfort to him while you’re gone, he’d shriek like a little girl and whack them over the head with said purse. Total princess behavior.

Even if the person was only passing by, he assumes the worst of them: they’re trying to steal your handbag.

And to your shocking dismay, when you return from the restroom you’re met by an innocent man laid out on the floor – all while the culprit continues to slander him with false accusations. You had to drag him out by the ear so he’d put a stop to his tomfoolery, but even then he continued to act a fool.

Safe to say you got kicked out of the restaurant and you’re both no longer welcomed. Your purse still under his arm, he clutches it tightly and ‘humpfs’ – head held high and nose tilting towards the roof to put emphasis on his sassiness.

“Your breadsticks were stale anyway!” he yells out to the closed door behind the two of you as he tosses an imaginary strand of hair over his shoulder. The tiny bag had given him an infinite amount of cheekiness – as if he didn’t have enough of that already.

Too bad if you really liked that purse, because it didn’t belong to you anymore.

Toji Fushiguro

He’ll look at you weird, baffled as to why you trust him with your purse in the first place. How naive of you, really. The thought of rummaging through it and stealing your valuables goes through his mind, but decides against it – you were both equally broke anyways. He’s not afraid of your purse, but he won’t wear it on display – so he throws it over his shoulder nonchalantly, one hand on his hip as he whistles while he waits for you to be done with your business.

Eventually the wait gets far too boring for his liking, so he begins to dig through your purse, not to take anything from you – even though he was tempted to do so – but to entertain himself. And just as he expected, he found so much useless crap. Gosh, you were such a disorganized person. Not to mention you had like a year's worth of tampons in your bag. what the hell woman?

Taking advantage of the business opportunity, he stands outside the ladies bathroom and begins to “offer” tampons to the passing ladies. Not for free, of course; his benevolence came at a price: $5 a tampon.

When you overhear women giggling and fawning over a handsome man being a “girl’s girl” outside, you immediately knew. You were inclined to smack him silly, but his logic behind the whole ordeal was so stupid that you were afraid he’d get dumber than he already is.

“What the hell are you mad at? I just bought us lunch, woman.”

“Yeah, with MY tampons. That’s literally blood money, you insolent shit.” you reprimand him, furiously snatching your purse back from him.

And you continued to scold him over some nice hotdogs. His treat, according to him.

Ryomen Sukuna

“Hell no.” He doesn’t hesitate to turn down your absurd request, crossing his arms over his chest in refusal. The fact that you were incapable of multitasking baffled him, so much so that he began to deem you incompetent from that moment on. But you were literally pissing your pants so you just shove it against his chest and sprint to the nearest restroom.

To no one’s surprise, he allows the purse to fall to the ground, completely unbothered by the thing. And yet, he would glance down at it to make sure it was still there while you were gone – but not daring to touch it.

Once you had returned, though, he began to kick the thing around so that you wouldn’t be able to pick it up. He barked in laughter every time you thought you would finally get it off the ground – only for him to kick it around some more.

“Serves you right for trying to boss me around,” he roars.

All you wanted was for him to hold it for a few minutes, and now he had you playing ball with your own purse. It was quite amusing to him regardless.

Choso Kamo

Being the teeth-rotting sweet man he is, he’ll nod an infinite number of times – his face lighting up that you actually entrusted him with such an important task. Eyes gleaming with nothing but excitement, he’ll relentlessly clutch it over his chest with both hands, looking from side to side every other second to make sure no one tries anything with your purse. To anyone passing by, he’d look like a sweet grandpa taking care of his beloved’s tote while she freshens up.

A group of girls happen to stumble upon the sight, taking notice of the man holding the bag as if his life depended on it. Because of how defenseless he seemed, they almost thought he was lost – so they approached him and asked him that.

“I’m holding my girlfriend’s purse while she runs to the restroom,” he replies shyly, completely unsure how to handle these types of situations – he’d never been left alone without you before.

The girls find his actions so adorable that they compliment you for having a boyfriend like him by your side. But that was before they had walked away and you had noticed Choso’s red-stained cheeks from how much they had been pinched prior to your arrival.

“Please don’t leave me alone ever again.” He pleads, not wanting to relive something like that during the spawn of his life.

You’d be better off taking him into the restroom with you next time.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #choso kamo #choso fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru x reader #satorugojo #sukuna ryoumen x you #reader x sukuna #jjk x reader #choso x reader

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blackopals-world · 3 days

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Unhappy Reunions

Celestial!Yuu finds what was lost

Angst

Humans are cruel and so are gods.

I was once the silver god who embodied love, marriage, and fertility. I was supposed to be the mother of gods the bringer of a generation of godlings.

I believed in my role fully and understood that it was for the good of the world. So I created. I made gods from stardust and clouds. So many wonderful creations. Fully formed and whole on their creation they took to the heavens and created more life. And I was happy.

I was creator, not mother to them. I was respected and revered.

Another god as ancient and powerful as I set his eyes on me. If I became his bound in vow I would be promised more power than I imagined. That might have worked on a lesser goddess but I was too powerful for that to work. But gods have tricks.

Lured in by my reflection on the ocean he trapped me in a black silk blanket. The moon disappeared from the sky until I agreed to be his.

I made the most of it but he demanded a child of me. But I was a god of love, I couldn't make a child without it. I had no love for him. Especially when he had children with mortals and goddess alike. I was resentful. Born to be the goddess of motherhood but not allowed to be mother to none. Dispite it all I converted my title to God of heroes. I looked after his demigod children, the blameless.

There were jealous goddess who wanted my place and they turned their children's blade against me. But I still wept when those children died to serve the purposes of more selfish gods, when my husband didn't even shed a tear for his fallen children.

My anger and loneliness bore fruit. Perhaps in spite my womb fashioned new life. From it, my first and only true child was born from me. A child of smoke and ink with a face shrouded in hair. This thing I had birthed from my negative emotions was still beautiful but the nurse maid reached in horror at my child. I demanded that she say the child was dead and hid it away in my most isolated corner of my heavens.

But he found them. He scorned me for birthing such a hideous creature. He took them from me.

He said I would have to pay for my actions and if I had done as he said this would never have happened.

There are many stories of gods doing horrible things to children, even their own. There are just as many with mortals.

But I can not explain the fracturing of my soul the moment he tossed my child to the wild beasts of the land after cutting them to pieces.

I still have not recovered from that day.

My nameless child was blameless.

I abandoned the heavens and have never returned. I left him and abandoned my titles of marriage goddess and mother goddess. I had neither now. I abandoned my very nature. It was no different than carving up my very being but I had already felt that pain.

How pathetic is it for a God to wander the earth calling for a child that no longer lives? Searching endlessly for what can't be found.

I'm not proud of what I did after. I wanted a child to fill the void in my heart. Silver became that for me. I wanted to be a mother again at any cost. I fought Lilia for him. He was mine by right.

I didn't intend to fall in love with Lilia. Perhaps I had always loved him at least a little. A strange thing for mortals to grasp that a God can love someone they have never really met. But it's true all the same. Still, there was a time I contemplated making a demigod of my own.

But I started to heal with him. I recovered that parts of me could be salvaged. The pain can never disappear with a memory that was infinite. Still I moved on.

Still, life found another way to curse me.

My child had returned. I found them. No. They found me.

My beautiful child of smoke and shadows. Neither God or mortal. Not demigod or monster. They stood shrouded in darkness before me but they did not know me. They were drawn to my side but knew nothing of their birth.

Perhaps it was for the best. I had failed them already, I should not be remembered.

Child was quiet, just how I remembered them. They spoke like the rain in the night and walked like fog.

I hope they know I love them. I hope they would forgive me. I wished I had been by their side. The pain they must have suffered must have been unimaginable.

My poor baby.

#celestial!yuu #(???)!yuu #yuuniverse #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x reader #twisted wonderland lilia #twst lilia

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nataliesfirefly · 3 days

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chapter 2 - when autumn leaves start to fall

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 4k

series masterlist

Yet another rainy October evening is upon you as you hurriedly walk to the library, your heavy backpack slung over your shoulder and textbooks clutched in your arms. You forgot your umbrella again. This seems to be a regular occurrence. Though it is only drizzling, so you can manage.

You let out a sigh of relief when you push open one of the double doors, greeted by light, warmth, bookshelves, and tables. You breathe in the familiar, woody scent of old books and their pages.

Not many people are here tonight. In fact, you think it’s just you, besides the librarian, Mrs. Ambrose, at the front desk clacking away on a keyboard. You smile with contentedness, setting down your bag at your usual spot and pulling out your laptop after taking your seat. You yawn and open your biology textbook, before hearing the sound of the door you had just walked through open.

Farleigh. Why is he here, out of all times? He’s such a pest, always around. Everywhere you look, there he is, walking around like he has just graced the student population with his presence.

He stops to chat with Mrs. Ambrose, smiling and chuckling all charmingly. You roll your eyes and try to focus on your biology homework, but suddenly cell division seems a whole lot less interesting.

You glance back up to see him walking over to a table, looking down at his phone the whole way. He eventually sits down and gets his things organized, sighs, and then looks up. His gaze locks onto yours. You hold the eye contact, never one to give up on a challenge, before he glances away and back to his work.

You take it as a sign to get back to your own work. You fish out your notebook from your backpack to write down some extra notes from the textbook. Your biology teacher is sometimes lacking in providing all the right information. You chew on your pen as your eyes scan over the words, your brows knitting together in concentration, But for some reason, you can’t help but feel someone’s gaze upon you.

Interestingly enough, when you look back up from the book, Farleigh is observing you from afar. He quickly looks away once he’s been caught, pretending to stretch, leaning back in his chair and yawning. You go back to your notes.

Wait, you thought that he said he ‘never studies.’ Is this considered studying, or is he just catching up on work? You glance back over to him to possibly find out. You can’t see from this far away though, obviously, so now it just looks like you’re staring at him. His head raises once again and he quirks an eyebrow when he meets your gaze. Something glints in his dark eyes and a smirk plays on his lips. You shake your head to clear your thoughts and glance back down to your textbook.

Eventually, you finish the work you needed to get done, along with the chapter of Wuthering Heights you were assigned to read today. You haul your heavy backpack onto your shoulders, scooping up your books and walking towards the door.

You walk past Farleigh, not daring to look at him as you pass by. Mrs. Ambrose dips her head to you on your way out and you offer a smile. The rain has stopped, thankfully, so you can safely make your way back to your dorm without getting pelted.

The next evening you return to the library around the same time. There’s a few more people here this time, but no one sitting in your usual place. You shuffle over and set your things down before looking around, surveying the large room. You don’t know what or who you’re looking for, but then–

Farleigh. Why is he here again?! Yes, it’s a student library, for anyone who wants to come and enjoy some peace and quiet while studying or doing homework, but he is normally never here. And you would know, because you seem to spend most of your afternoons and evenings here, because if you try to work in your dorm you’ll end up falling asleep.

And tonight, he’s sitting a few tables closer to you than last night. Surely it’s not on purpose. Maybe he doesn’t have a usual spot like you do.

You narrow your eyes and watch him. You’re just observing. Like two competitors in some sport would, analyzing and watching closely for weaknesses or habits. You study his polished and put-together appearance.

Farleigh is not bad looking, you realize. Far from it. Maybe if his personality wasn’t so… well, then maybe he would be attractive. Not to you, though. To someone else. Right?

Your eyes trace the shape of his face, his straight nose, his thick, curly hair that reminds you of a lion’s mane with coiled locks of dark brown and caramel. You watch the dangling pendants on his two stacked necklaces as he leans down over his work, fully concentrated.

The realization that you’ve been looking at him for too long finally catches up with you. You glance away, stealing a quick look from your peripheral to make sure no one saw you doing that.

Someone sits down next to you. “Hey,” A soft voice says your name. You turn to see your friend, Clara. You met her last year in your chemistry class. “Hi, Clara,” You reply with a smile, your voice lowered to match the volume of the quiet chatting around you.

“How are you doing? We haven’t spoken since last year,” She grins, her bright blue eyes sparkling. “I’m doing well. How about yourself?” You respond. “Alright, you know. Just… stressed. I’m trying to pick which uni’s I want to apply to.” She sighs.

“My parents want me to apply to Cambridge, but I know I’m not smart enough to get in. There’s no point. And, well– I really want to study abroad in America,” She explains, her smile broadening at the mention of her desires. You remember a few things about Clara, and one of them is that she really likes to talk. She will overshare any details about her life to anyone who’s willing to listen. You already know you won’t be getting anything else done tonight as long as she’s here.

“You are smart, Clara. You don’t give yourself enough credit.” You pat her shoulder. You aren’t exactly sure that she is smart enough to get into Cambridge, but you offer the reassurance anyway like a good friend should. She shakes her head. “Last year I nearly failed my exams. Oh, I have an idea!” Her voice gets a bit louder due to her excitement, and a few people turn to look at the two of you.

“Sorry.” She clears her throat. “You should help me. You know, to study, get better scores… And I won’t copy off of you like I did last year. I promise.” She whispers. “Even if I want to go to school in the states, I need better marks. Besides, you’re the smartest person here. It would be such a helpful favor,” She bats her eyelashes and looks at you hopefully.

“Oh. Thanks.” Before registering anything else she just said, all you seem to have retained were the words ‘You’re the smartest person here.’ In your mind right now, you’re giggling and squealing. Maybe Clara is just saying that because she’s trying to convince you to become her tutor, but regardless, it makes you feel important. Take that, Farleigh.

You regain your composure. “I would love to help you, Clara. Just give me a call whenever you would like to study.” She nods eagerly.

“This will be so very helpful for midterms!” She claps her hands together softly. “Thank you so much!” She abruptly stands up and grabs her bag. “You can stay if you like–” You begin.

“I didn’t actually come here to work. I just like the… atmosphere.” She gestures to the room. You nod. “Ah.” She’s going to be an interesting person to teach.

“Well, have a good night!” She spins on her heel and skips toward the front, earning a few judgmental glances from the other students. You sit there and ponder whether you should have committed to helping her. It’s just another thing to add to your plate. When you look around for Farleigh, you realize he’s already gone. You let out a long sigh.

One Sunday afternoon, you are taking a walk outside around the campus, breathing in the crisp autumn air and listening to the warm-colored leaves crunching under your feet. You enjoy walks, they take your mind off of things, like the work you need to do, or how you need to call your mom, or that you not only have a calculus test tomorrow, but a biology test too.

You find yourself walking up the stairs to one of the lesser known corridors, in one of the older parts of the school. It’s slightly dim and a little bit creepy, with dust particles dancing around in the small amount of natural light.

And then, you hear a melody floating down the hallway. You raise an eyebrow and peer down the hall. It sounds like a piano.

You start to wonder if you’re in a horror movie or if you’re just imagining things. Usually, this is your secret spot for when you want to be alone because no one really goes there. Except today, the one time when you really need to be alone.

Nevertheless, you’re curious about the source of the sound. It’s a beautiful song, and it sounds familiar. You slowly walk, stopping at the end of the hall when you see a doorway. You look into the room. It’s a strange, small room with a high ceiling and walls of old stone, painted by the sunshine shining through the colorful stained glass. And in the middle of the room, an elegant and timeless grand piano and… Farleigh?

He continues playing, lost in a trance, his fingers gracefully moving over the keys and producing beautiful chords. There is also no sheet music in front of him. He’s playing all this from memory? How is he so good at everything? You wouldn’t have expected him to be a pianist, though. He’s too… loud and annoying. But right now, he’s almost a completely different person. Calm, serene, focused.

Suddenly he stops playing. “I can see you,” He says. You curse under your breath. “Um. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—“ You stutter, not knowing why you’re nervous all of a sudden.

“Well, you did,” Farleigh responds sarcastically. He sighs and stares down at the black and white keys. You awkwardly walk over, your shoes scuffing against the stone floor.

“I didn’t know you played piano,” You stand beside the piano, your hand resting atop the smooth black surface. “Not many people do.” He says, playing some random chords absentmindedly.

“So.. it’s just a hobby of yours?” You ask. He looks up at you, surprised that you’re interested. “Pretty much. I don’t play often, it’s just something I do when I’m bored.” He says casually, like being this talented is a regular occurrence. He scoots over slightly on the bench and you step forward tentatively, trying to decipher whether he wants you to sit down next to him or not. There’s no change in his expression, so you take it as a sign to sit down.

It’s like there’s some truce between the two of you when you’re not in a classroom or the library. Like right now, the competition seems to leave and there’s only a peaceful kind of atmosphere left in its wake.

“Did you have a piano? Back home, I mean?” You ask with a soft smile, tilting your head. Farleigh shakes his head. “No. Well, yes. I would go over to my neighbors’ house and use their piano.” He explains, his voice gentle compared to his usual stark tone.

“So you were self taught?” You question, genuinely curious. “Yeah. Unless you count a bunch of music books as a teacher,” He jokes. You laugh quietly.

“My neighbors, back in the states… they were the family I never had. My dad left, and my mom– well, she was out of it. Half of the time I never knew where she was. She was either out drinking or doing drugs.” He explains, still gazing down at the piano keys. “They ended up taking care of me most of the time. And whenever I needed a break from the chaos, I just went over there and played piano until I couldn’t think about my problems anymore.”

There’s a moment of silence as you feel sorrow for him wash over you. You never knew he had such a rough past. You turn to him.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m awful at piano.” You chuckle at your own words and Farleigh turns to look at you. There’s a smirk tugging at his lips, just barely visible. “Thanks. It does.” He nods and gives in to the smile. The quietness lingers and you just look at each other for a moment, observing and analyzing one another. That is, until your leg brushes against his and you inhale sharply as you’re quickly taken out of the moment. “Sorry.” You chuckle quietly and stand up, stepping away from the bench. He raises his eyebrows at you as you scuttle towards the doorway.

“Um. See you… soon.” You awkwardly wave before walking speedily down the hallway and towards the stairs that you had originally gone up a few minutes ago. What was that? You’ve never been that friendly with Farleigh before. He’s never been that talkative around you. Except for when it came to insults, of course.

You walk back to your dorm, hoping that whatever that was, he would never bring it up in conversation. You won’t mention it either.

A few days later, you are going to the library again. After making a 95 on your last calculus assessment, you’ve decided it’s time to take your studying up a notch. Clearly you’re not doing enough right now.

You walk in. Thursday evenings at the library are typically pretty busy, but tonight there’s only a few other students here. You head towards your usual spot after giving Mrs. Ambrose a quick nod and a smile.

It’s almost as if you have a sixth sense for when Farleigh is around. Sure enough, he’s here, in the library, sitting in your spot. Everyone knows it’s your seat. No one ever sits there because you’ve basically claimed it. Unless he’s an idiot, he’s definitely doing this on purpose.

“You’re in my spot.” You stand next to the table and scowl down at him. It takes him a moment to finish what he’s writing down before he glances up at you, as if you’re unimportant.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know we had assigned seats in this library.” He says with a harsh glare and a sharp tone. “Oh, okay,” You give him your best fake smile, saccharine and disingenuous. “Now get out of my chair.” You hiss, dropping your grin.

“There’s so many other places to sit, why should I have to move?” He leans back and crosses his arms sassily. “Because.” You state simply. “What a persuading reason.” He replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “How about you shut your mouth, gather your things, and move to another table?” You suggest, leaning forward and placing both hands on the table to hopefully intimidate him.

“Sorry. You’ll just have to sit somewhere else tonight,” He smiles and tilts his head, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. You groan. Suddenly, you get a brilliant idea as you glance around.

“Oh my God, Farleigh, you seriously failed your biology test?” You say, your voice raised so everyone in the library can hear. Several heads turn and quieted gasps and giggles can be heard. Farleigh stands up immediately and grabs your arm, pulling you close to him, only separated by the table, which is now pressing against you painfully.

“Fuck off and go find someone else to bother.” He mutters, his face very close to yours, your noses almost touching. You stare into his eyes, which are dark and full of anger. Your plan succeeded. You got a rise out of him, as you had hoped.

He shoves you away, releasing your arm from his tight grasp and sitting back down, letting out a sharp sigh. You turn away so he doesn’t see the grin on your face as you walk off to another table nearby, only accepting your defeat because you got him so riled up.

It’s laughable how easily you can both switch from being friendly to hating each other’s guts. It’s as if the moment in the piano room the other day never even happened. Farleigh clearly seems to have wiped it from his memory, based on how he just responded to you.

You fish your copy of Wuthering Heights out of your bag and pick up where you left off. You’re surprised that you’ve actually somewhat enjoyed this book. You’re excited for the final project and what your essay prompt is going to be.

Your phone buzzes with a text message, so you pull it out of your pocket and set your book down to check who it is. It’s Clara. The text reads:

Hey queen! I’ve got a really important history test tomorrow so I was wondering if you could help me study tonight? Lmk! xx

You sigh and realize you must follow through with your plans. You said you would help her, so now you need to. You text back.

Ofc Clara, no problem xx Come to the library I’m there right now.

You send the text and set your phone down, leaning back in your chair and yawning. Now you wait for Clara to show up.

You steal a glance at Farleigh, who’s writing away in his notebook. Must be for the lab report in biology. You already got that done yesterday. You’re one step ahead of him, like usual.

Clara enters the library, her skirt rolled up to be as short as possible and her black socks pulled high up to her knees. She’s always been one to show off her appearance, like her long legs or her voluminous blonde hair, although she typically ended up getting dresscoded by her teachers.

She spots you and grins, waving excitedly as she prances over to your table. “Hey love! Thanks so much for the help on such short notice. I only remembered the test, like, twenty minutes ago. I was like, oh God. I’m done for if I don’t study.” She rambles after she sits down, running a hand through her hair. You nod, trying to be an active listener but you’d rather be jumping out the window right now.

“And then I remembered, I don’t really know how to study. But now I have you!” Clara leans forward suddenly and throws her arms around you. You grimace as you’re forced into the embrace, trying to fake a smile as you breathe in her signature scent, marshmallows and vanilla.

“Right. Yep, that’s why I’m here… Heh.” You chuckle awkwardly as you pull away from the hug. Clara releases you from her boa constrictor grasp.

“Anyways. Are you going to the Halloween party Saturday night?” She asks, brushing through her hair with her fingers. “I didn’t even know there’s a Halloween party.” You respond, raising an eyebrow. “Of course there is! It’s going to be so much fun. You should come!” She pokes you in the arm playfully.

“I’m not sure… I don’t have a costume or anything–” Clara waves her hand, dismissing your concerns. “Excuses, excuses. You can make a costume out of anything in your closet. Don’t even stress about it, babe.” She pats your shoulder. “I’m here to help.”

“But where is the actual party going to be?” You ask confusedly. “In the student lounge, underneath the dorms, you know?” She explains. You picture the lounge full of students chatting and bustling around. It makes sense, the lounge is basically big enough to be a mini-library, with bookshelves and couches and various spots to sit and hang out with your friends.

You consider the idea. “I guess I could go… Alright. I’ll be there.” Clara gasps at your words. “Yay! Now, let’s think of an outfit for you, yeah?”

It’s safe to say that you and Clara did not get any studying done whatsoever. You tried to bring the topic back to medieval history, but it was no use. Clara chatted endlessly as she usually does, regaling you with riveting tales of her summer. You went home that night and scoured your closet for something that could be considered Halloween-ish. You settled on a tiny black dress and a black cat ear headband that some girl had let you borrow last year for theatre class. You guess you had just forgotten to give it back.

You walk downstairs Saturday evening, already hearing the laughter and ambience of the party. You have to admit you’re a bit anxious. You hardly know anyone at this school, and if you do, they probably dislike you because of your competitive nature.

But it seems cozy and warm, with a few candles and lamps lit, and a fire crackling in the fireplace. You awkwardly stand near the corner of the room, constantly pulling your dress down to make sure you don’t flash everyone here.

“Well, well, well. Look who showed up,” You turn to find the source of the voice, although you already know who it is. Farleigh’s tall figure stands in front of you. You try to figure out what he’s dressed as… He’s in all black, with slacks and a button-up long-sleeve shirt.

“Hello.” You answer dryly, narrowing your eyes. “You didn’t really commit to the bit, did you?” You snicker at his lack of a costume. “And you call that a costume?” He gestures to your outfit.

“Well, at least I tried,” You shrug and sigh, looking around. “I don’t even know anyone here.” You admit helplessly, leaning against the wall.

“Aw. Sad.” He chuckles and walks to stand beside you, also leaning back against the wall. “Seems to me like you don’t have any friends, either.” You reply, looking up at him. “Me? I- No, I have friends–” He pauses when he realizes he sounds stupid. “Yeah, I don’t.” He admits.

“Well, at least we have something in common.” You laugh at your embarrassing predicament. “Everyone is just so… Incompetent.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, here he goes.” You mutter under your breath. “What?” Farleigh asks, glancing down at you. “I’m Farleigh, and I’m better than everyone else.” You mock his voice, trying to make your own voice deep enough to match his. He rolls his eyes dramatically.

“First of all, that is not how I sound. Second of all, I don’t think that. Well, sometimes I do.” You scoff at his response. “So you are a narcissist?” You reply, looking down and fiddling with one of your rings.

“If you believe everyone is so incompetent, why are you talking to me?” You ask, wondering if you can get a reaction out of him again. He gazes down at you, going silent for a moment, his dark eyes illuminated by the dancing flames of the candlelight. “I don’t think that applies to you,” He says quietly, with some weird tone that you can’t decipher.

“So, you settled for the next best person after yourself?” You question. You both stand there, just observing the party, and eventually he replies. “Yeah, I guess so.” The two of you smile contentedly, and for the first time, you think you might actually enjoy his company.

You spend the rest of the evening chatting with Farleigh, with casual insults slipping into the conversation every now and then, or snarky remarks about classes or upcoming quizzes. Interestingly enough, Clara never stopped by once to greet you or talk with you. But, then again, what did you expect?

Yet somehow, she didn’t really cross your mind tonight. You must have been thinking about other things, or you were too wrapped up in your conversations with Farleigh. But you’ll never admit that.

#saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #farleigh start x reader #farleigh x you #farleigh saltburn #dark academia #academic rivals to lovers

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canonicallyobserving911 · 5 hours

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Eddie's abuela has a secret just like Pepa did.

In an interview either before season 7 began or shortly thereafter, RG mentioned Eddie's abuela has a secret and it appears when she returns, she'll share that secret with him. Even though I'm not sure what it is, I have an idea that it could be related to his next relationship (with Buck, not Maris*l) because I remembered what Tia Pepa told him in 6x14. She had a secret too and it was about her first marriage.

Eddie didn't know she had been married before and when they discussed it, she told him the marriage she had before "Paco" was a "train wreck".

Well... guess who else's first marriage was a "train wreck"?

Eddie's because his first marriage to Shannon was also a "train wreck".

IMO, their conversation was foreshadowing for his next marriage with BUCK, not Maris*l.

Here's my mini season 7 speculation for Eddie...

Isabel will tell Eddie something he didn't know about her love life either prior to her marrying his abuelo or something that happened after his abuelo died.

Everyone has their own opinions and speculations but IMO, even though the narrative has been all over the place this season, it's still there and it's still in play. Therefore, if Eddie were to double down on his relationship with Maris*l and propose to her, like some people believe he will (I DON'T), it doesn't make any narrative sense because he would be doing the SAME THING BUCK'S DOING and making the same mistakes. Buck jumped headfirst into a relationship with someone just because he kissed him (hello it's the same thing Taylor did) and he's done it in the past with previous LIs, however the only difference is he's repeating those same steps with a man this time but it will end the same way his other relationships did.

If Eddie were to propose to Maris*l, it'll be another wash, rinse and repeat just like he did with Shannon. So, unless TM is like KR and he wants to drag BUDDIE CANON out even longer (I mean it's been 6 years and the delays need to end) then, Eddie's next step will be to enter a romantic relationship with Buck and they'll get married.

Reminder, in 7x1, Buck was the one who said Shannon was the first WOMAN Eddie had sex with. Therefore, if the narrative and foreshadowing continue, it's likely, Buck will be the first MAN Eddie has sex with.

#eddie diaz #isabel diaz #josephina pepa diaz #ramon diaz #buddie #evan buckley #911 on abc #911 abc #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #911 speculation #911 spoilers #ryan guzman #Tagging RG because the information mentioned about Eddie's abuela came from one of his interviews.#anti marisol #anti eddiemarisol #shannon diaz

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ereardon · 3 days

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In The Skies || Ch. 2

[Major John "Bucky" Egan x Reader]

Overview: On a night out in London, you meet fellow American Major John “Bucky” Egan of the 100th. As war rages on, you take a leave of absence during the spring of your third year at Oxford to sign up as a nurse on the front lines in England. Time and time again, you and Bucky find yourselves thrown together in the hospital ward as you tend to him and his teammates after missions gone awry. What happens when you find yourself falling for a man who might never return from the skies?

Pairing: Major John “Bucky” Egan x Reader

Chapter summary: Six months after you first meet Major Egan, he shows up at the bedside of Sergeant Quinn who just happens to be your patient. Sparks fly, again.

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, cursing, definitely historical inaccuracies

WC: 2.8K

Masterlist here

“Nurse? Nurse!”

Your head shot up, legs unfolding beneath you before you even realized, carrying you down the narrow hallway of the hospital, the floors squeaking beneath your shoes, a mixture of blood and urine and saline and muddy footprints all blurring into one.

“It’s his leg!” You skidded to a stop in front of a man writhing in pain.

“Morphine,” you said, nodding at the girl to your right who reached into her pocket, fingers returning with a small clear vial that you grabbed, driving it into the flesh of his thigh. The man let out a shriek, followed by blissful silence as you surveyed the scene. A severe bleed and a cracked tibia. The bone hadn’t shattered through the skin but you knew it was bad just by the way it was bulging against the flesh. “Over there,” you pointed at a gap against one wall. “I’ll get the surgeon.”

They wheeled him away and you made your way through the maze of beds and walkways, eyes wide, a few strands of hair sticking to your temples. It was hot, too hot for how early in the year it was. Early June. You should have been graduating from Oxford. Instead, you spent your days nursing soldiers back to health, sending them back to the battlefield with missing limbs and poorly patched scars and wounds on their souls that would never heal. And somehow, it felt better than any degree ever could.

“Dr. Peters!” Your voice rang out in the dingy corridor and the surgeon turned. He was short, with tight, dark curls and a pair of glasses that teetered on the edge of his nose.

“Nurse,” he said, “what is it?”

“Patient, Doctor, broken tibia.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yes. I just did a visual exam, no x-ray, but I’m positive.”

Dr. Peters eyed you. In the three months you had been stationed at Stoke Military Hospital in Devon, you hadn’t been wrong once about a patient. He knew that. The doctor sighed and put his hands in his lab coat pockets. “Alright. Show me this man.”

***

“Y/N? Isn’t your shift done?”

You shrugged, wiping your hands on a cloth before sticking it back in the pocket of your apron. “An hour ago, I don’t know. Still have to see Lieutenant Davies.”

Anna raised an eyebrow. “I’ll see you at home?”

“See you at home.” You rounded the corner and smiled. “Lieutenant Davies?”

The gentleman on the gurney looked up with a grin. “Ma’am.”

“How are you feeling tonight?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

“Good as a man with one arm can be.”

“You always keep good spirits. I like that about you.”

“Go out with me, won’t you?”

You laughed. “Now Lieutenant, we’ve been over this before. I don’t date patients.”

“Won’t you make an exception?” he asked, brown eyes glittering. “Just this once? For all you know, I could be the best date you’ve ever had!”

“Oh I bet you would be,” you said, ringing out a washcloth in a nearby basin and pressing it gently to his forehead, dragging it down the side of his face, washing his neck carefully. His soft eyes never left yours. “But that wouldn’t be fair to all the other men, now would it?”

“Screw them,” he murmured and you laughed. “What do you say, darlin’? You and me, let’s get out of here.”

You shook your head, dipping the washcloth once more and pressing it over his bare chest. “You’re forward, aren’t you?”

“War taught me anything, it’s that we all die someday. Gotta make the most of every day that’s left.”

“Amen,” you whispered, setting the rag down back in the pan. “I’m going home now. You be good, alright?”

Davies grinned. “Aren’t I always, darlin’?”

You chuckled, making your way down the hallway toward the doors when they burst open, a flash of night sky visible through the open doors before they swung shut. Everything in the hospital was a rush. Triage and move on. But you had long-term patients as well. Men who were there for days, weeks, even months. Ones who weren’t healthy enough to go home, and not whole enough to go back to battle. Men who had seen loss. Men who had nothing left to fight for.

“Y/N?” A voice from your left startled you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Are you headed home?”

“Just about.”

“Can you do me a favor?” Jolene tipped her head to one side. “A patient in bed fourteen. Came in earlier today. Having a hard time sleeping. Think he just needs someone to sit with him and I’ve been here for going on twenty hours.”

“Go home,” you insisted, practically pushing the girl out the door. “I’ll take it. What’s his name?”

“Quinn.” She flushed. “Thank you. I owe you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You took a look around the room, spotting the bed that Jolene had mentioned. “Hi there,” you said quietly, inching toward the bed. “Lieutenant Quinn, is it? I’m Nurse Y/N.”

The man who looked up at you was pale, practically ghostly. He had diminutive features, a small nose that curved upward, eyes that gapped at you from the hollows of his sockets. “Sergeant,” he croaked. There was sweat beading his forehead, his upper lip, the visible bones of his collar. “You’re promoting me.”

You smiled, grabbing for a washcloth and pressing it to his forehead gently. “Sergeant Quinn,” you replied. “How are you feeling?”

“Not bad, ma’am.”

“Now don’t you go lying to me,” you reprimanded him.

“Not good,” he said after a moment. “Feel cold. And dizzy. It’s like everything in my brain is static.”

You pulled away the washcloth and sat down on the thin cot next to his leg. Quinn looked up, eyes wide. “What brought you here, sir?”

“Got shot in the side,” he whispered. “Running from enemy fire.”

“Are you a pilot?”

“No, ma’am. I just fly with them.”

“I met a pilot once,” you said. The memories of Bucky flooded your senses. The way his touch felt against your bare skin. The bristle of his mustache as he kissed you. You shook the memory out of your mind. You had been a different person, seven months before. Back then, war hadn’t felt so real. It was tangible now. It crept into every thought, it had made its way into every atom in your body. You were no longer a girl. You were a nurse. You were part of the war effort.

“Oh yeah?” Quinn said, teeth chattering. “Maybe I know him.”

You smiled. “Maybe.” You reached out, brushing one hand over his cheek, thumb stroking his sullen face gently. “Jolene said you’re not sleeping. How come that is?”

“Every time I close my eyes,” he whispered, “I see them.”

“See who?”

“Them,” he murmured. “All the men we lost.”

There was a type of pain in his voice that you hadn’t known until you joined the hospital. Now it was the only tone you could hear. It saturated every word that was spoken under this roof. “You try and sleep,” you whispered, settling down into the chair next to his bed and reaching out, taking his frail hand in yours. His was dirty, but yours was caked in dried blood as well. “I’ll stay here so you’re not alone.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” you replied. “Now close your eyes.” He closed his eyes, and you did too. The next thing you knew, it was the morning and your neck was bent to one side. Your eyes opened, trying to place where you were. And then the scent hit. It was as familiar as the smell of the ocean or a new book.

Death.

Sergeant Quinn was asleep on the bed and you dropped his hand gently, standing up, careful not to wake him. He looked peaceful. You took a mental picture of him. That was the best you could do, you had realized. Remembering them at their best was the only way to make it through the hard days.

The flat you shared with two other girls, both nurses, was small and tidy. You spent as little time there as possible. Not because you didn’t like it, but the only place that you felt at peace was at the hospital. Doing your part. Helping people. All of the trivial things that had mattered so much less than a year before had vanished. You stopped wearing as much makeup or caring as much about how your hair was set. You had given up pantyhose entirely. You were a different girl than you had been.

Back at the hospital, the stench of decay and the sharp bite of stringent solutions nipped at your nose. At first it had been jarring. Now it was simply familiar. The hustle and bustle no longer felt out of the ordinary. If anything, laying down to go to sleep at night felt uncomfortable in its near silence.

“Jolene.” You stopped the girl with one hand against her arm. She swiveled around. “How’s Sargeant Quinn?”

She smiled. “Good. Better. Says you were the one who got him to finally rest.”

“I tried.”

“Few of his friends from his unit stopped by, but you should check on him. Think it would make him feel even better.”

“I will.” You weaved around the corridors, past incoming traumas: soldiers on gurneys, soldiers limping, ones with bandages across their faces and arms and necks. Every one you gave a sympathetic look. “Sergeant Quinn,” you said, rounding the corner where his bed sat.

Four heads turned. Three men in uniform standing in a semicircle turned and your eyes scanned them quickly before doing a double take, backtracking to the man on the far left next to Quinn’s bedside. His warm eyes flashed in recognition.

“Y/N,” he breathed out and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“John,” you whispered. The room, so crowded and cloying and loud, suddenly felt very still and very quiet. Just you and Major Egan standing beneath a street lamp on a bitingly cold London evening.

He stepped forward and you saw how even over the course of half a year he had aged. Tiny crows feet in the corners of his eyes. There was a hollowness, too. He placed your hands in his. “You’re a nurse? What about Oxford?”

“I deferred my last semester,” you replied quietly, suddenly aware of all of the eyes on the two of you. “To help.”

He smiled, his fingers squeezing yours. “So you’re the fantastic nurse that Quinn here won’t stop yammering on about.”

From the bed, Sergeant Quinn blushed. “Bucky, I didn’t know.”

You shook your head. “Nothing to know, Sergeant. Major Egan and I met a few months back. Looks like you weren’t lying when you said you were in good hands.” The memory of that one night with John brought a tingle between your legs. He grinned.

“Are you working?” Bucky asked.

“Always,” you replied candidly. “It never stops, you know. It’s a constant revolving door of injured men.”

His eyes darkened. “I know.” His mouth shifted into a smile. “Take a walk with me.”

“I have some patients to check on,” you whispered. “How long are you here?”

“Few days,” he replied.

“Meet me for dinner.” You listed off a restaurant nearby and Bucky nodded.

He squeezed your hand one more time before dropping it. “I’ll be there.”

You smiled at Sargeant Quinn. “Now I’m going to have to ask you boys to leave so I can clean the Sargeant’s wounds and replace his bandages.”

Bucky and the two other men exited the makeshift room and you felt a shiver work its way up your spine.

You had thought you would never see Major John Egan ever again.

***

Normally time in the hospital sped forward, like a clock that was wound too tight. But waiting for the sun to set so you could meet Bucky felt like it was taking an eternity.

You were fixing a dressing on a soldier when Jolene popped out around a corner. “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

She tipped her head to the side. “Heard there was a handsome Major here earlier asking all about you.”

You tried to hide your grin. “Gossip.”

“I love gossip,” she replied and you laughed. “Does that mean Lieutenant Davies is on the market?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What happened to not getting involved with patients?”

“He’s so charming!”

“He is,” you replied, wiping your hands on your apron and standing up straight. “They all are.”

“So this Major?” she asked as the two of you made your way down the hall. “How well do you know him?”

“We only met once,” you said. “Just before Christmas, at a bar in London.”

“And?”

You grinned and hid it behind one hand, faking a yawn. “And nothing. He’s a gentleman. He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”

Jolene shrieked and a few patients turned their heads. You shushed her but it was no use. She was practically giddy. “God, you’re lucky,” she whined. “Ask if he has a friend, why don’t you?”

“He has a best friend who is also a Major,” you said and her eyebrows shot up. “But don’t get too attached. He’s engaged.”

She sighed. “All the good ones are.”

“Not all the good ones.”

Jolene squeezed your hand. “You go have fun. I have it covered here.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Go!” She practically pushed you out of the door.

***

When was the last time you had dressed up? Worn something other than a blood-soaked apron and saddle shoes?

When was the last time you had gone on a date?

Probably at Uni, but even then the lines were blurry. Was studying together over a tea equivalent to a date? Or a formal where everyone was required to attend? You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt the way you did that night in Bucky’s arms.

Safe.

You were late, hair pulling out of the messily placed pins, the neckline of your dress slightly crooked. As you whipped into the restaurant, peering around, you spotted John with a grin on his face, his eyes planted on yours.

He stood as you approached the table and leaned over, pressing his lips to your cheek, one hand on the back of the chair, letting you settle into it before he pressed it inward.

“Hi.” There was something so sincerely innocent about the way he said it. Almost shy.

“What brings you to town, Major?”

“A mission,” he replied. “Or the end of one, I guess.”

“Sergeant Quinn. He’s quite impressed by you.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“He said you’re the better guy.”

Bucky paused before lifting his glass of wine to his lips and taking a slow sip. Then, “I’ve thought a lot about you. Since that night.”

“Had to send a fellow American off to war the only way I knew how.”

His eyes darkened. “It was more than that, Y/N.”

“What are you saying, Major Egan?”

Bucky tipped his head. “I’m saying I haven’t stopped thinking about you, sweetheart. That not a day goes by where I haven’t wondered if I would ever see you again.”

“Must have made an impression, then,” you whispered.

His eyes were glued on yours. “Go out with me.”

You laughed. “We’re on a date right now!”

“Tomorrow,” he replied instantly. “And the night after that.”

“Let’s see how the date goes first,” you replied, “before we go making plans.”

He shook his head. “Don’t need to wait to know what I already do. Which is that you’re the woman for me, Y/N.”

“John,” you whispered, a blush creeping up your neck. “You’ve known me a total of two days. You can’t say something like that.”

“I was five years old the first time I saw an airplane,” he replied. “And do you know what I thought?”

“That you wanted to be a pilot.”

He nodded. “Yes. The first time I ever saw a plane I knew that’s how I was going to spend my life. In the skies.”

“You based your entire career, your whole life, around one glance at the sky when you were a child?”

“I knew in my heart, with every inch of my body, that it was what I was meant to do.” He paused. “It’s how I felt when I saw you again earlier today. Something clicked. Something said this was right.”

“You have to give me a second to process this,” you whispered. “I haven’t seen you in six months. And here you are, saying what exactly?”

His fingertips met yours across the table. “All I know is that I knew the first time I saw a plane that it was going to change my life.” His eyes met yours. “And that’s how I feel now, looking at you.”

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