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prythianpages · 4 months

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Wanna Be Yours | Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand x Reader | When the Night Court and Dawn Court strike a deal, healers in exchange for Illyrian training, you rush at the opportunity to leave your home. You plan to keep a low profile but upon meeting the High Lord of night, your efforts are futile. He takes an instant liking to you and is set on being yours.

warnings: angst, mentions of blood and injury

a/n: This can be read as a stand alone imagine :) but there will be a part two. once again, we have another mini series inspired by a song: I wanna be yours by the Arctic Monkeys. I love when the guy falls in love with the girl first and I feel like it suits Rhys. This takes place before the events of ACOTAR.

The world awakens to a gentle warmth–a tender kiss from dawn. The stars are like a fading dream, bidding their silent farewell and the first tendrils of sunlight emerge, painting the sky in hues of soft pinks and purples. The world seems to hold its breath and so do you.

It’s so beautiful. The way night surrenders to day. The way that no matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again. It makes you miss home but you don’t miss what waits for you there.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and the world tilts beneath your feet. The edge of the terrace offers a daunting view of the Court of Nightmares–a harsh landscape of rocky mountains that seems to promise a swift but unforgiving descent. A hand grasps your arm, pulling you back from the brink, the force spinning you around until you find sanctuary in a pair of strong arms.

As you lift your head, the world regains its focus, but your breath hitches at the sight before you.

A man, heartbreakingly handsome, captures your gaze. He has sun-kissed skin and short dark hair, reminiscent of a raven’s feather, that frames features that seem almost too perfect to be real. Yet, it’s his eyes that draw you in–a shade of blue so deep it borders on violet. Flecks of silver dance within those celestial irises, mirroring the stars that had bid their farewell earlier. His gaze is intense, sparkling with an allure that feels both familiar and bewitching.

“Breathe, darling.”

His voice, a velvet symphony, wraps around you like the answer to a question you hadn’t even fathomed to think of yet–a revelation that ignites a feeling you can’t quite discern but it stirs the deepest recesses of your heart.

Suddenly, you’re pushing away from the male with a deep exhale as a delicate pink that reflects the sky above you flushes your cheeks.

“y/n!”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your name being called.

“y/n.” The male in front of you repeats to himself and you never thought your name would sound so beautiful as it does in this very moment. His lips curl into a knowing smirk.

Alette, your guide, comes into your view. She bends over slightly as her chest heaves and she catches up with her breath. She turns to the male, bowing her head in acknowledgment. “My High Lord.”

All blood drains from your face and your heart skips a beat. High Lord. You just met the High Lord of the Night Court and embarrassingly so. You contemplate whether it’s too late to bow your head or not but the thought of Alette scolding you for not doing it sooner stops you.

“I see you’ve met one of our new healers.” Alette inclines her head toward your sorry state. “I do apologize for her entering your palace without prior clearance.”

Cauldron boil you. You caught a glimpse of him pressing his lips together, as if suppressing something. Perhaps a scowl, frown or smile–you don’t know– because you're swiftly averting your gaze. You’re too scared to move, not wanting to draw more attention to yourself than you already have.

“Forgive me,” you’re saying as you drop to your knees and bow your head. “I didn't mean to trespass. I felt a little suffocated down there and I had no idea this was your home.”

“Where are you from?”

Panic steals your voice and it’s Alette who answers for you.

“She’s one of the few healers that came from Dawn, my High Lord.”

You sense the weight of his gaze upon you, an intensity that envelops you with an almost overwhelming power. Your throat tightens.

“And what of her skill?”

“The best of this year’s cohort.” Alette replies with no hesitation. There’s a subtle fondness in her voice that makes your heart swell with pride. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed.

“You may rise.” It takes a while for you to register that the High Lord is addressing you until Alette is awkwardly clearing her throat. You blink and rise to your feet but keep your gaze low.

“You’re coming with me.”

You lift your gaze, gaping at his back. Does he—No, there’s no way he can know. The High Lord pauses.

He turns his head over his shoulder and looks at you in an expectant manner. You look at Alette, who nods her head at you, so hesitantly, you follow after him. Your heart races as you hear him tell Alette to pack your things because you won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares anymore.

Velaris, the city of Starlight, is a breathtaking haven nestled within the Night Court. It’s often referred to as the Court of Dreams. It’s a place of ethereal beauty and enchantment. The stark contrast it presents in comparison to the haunting Court of Nightmares leaves you in awe.

But what strikes you the most is the High Lord of the Night Court–the master of duality. In Hewn City, where the air is always thick with tension, he wears a cold, stoic mask and every calculated step he takes echoes the weight of his stern authority and great power. This is the High Lord you’ve heard of. So when he told you, you’d be joining him in the city of his private residence, you were terrified.

It was a short lived fear because the High Lord you’ve heard of is not the High Lord you’ve come to know over the past couple of weeks. In Velaris, he sheds the shroud of shadows and reveals a different side to him. A softer side. A leader built from genuine warmth and kindness.

You’ve come to understand he has a complex role as High Lord of the Night Court. He is a blend that is both harsh and dangerous, yet undeniably beautiful and remarkable, constantly navigating through the delicate balance of power and compassion.

There is one unchanging thread that weaves through both cities. A thread of charismatic arrogance. He carries it effortlessly, employing it in a charming grace. One that he directs skillfully, particularly, when he turns the full force of his charm on you. You’d be lying if you said you were immune to it.

Upon your arrival, the High Lord–or Rhysand as he prefers you to call him– introduced you to the city’s healer. Madja. Though you’ve undergone extensive training in your home court, it felt little compared to the years of experience Madja carried with her, leading her to take you under her wing as her apprentice. You were a fast learner and given the nature of Azriel’s–Rhysand’s spymaster– and Cassian’s –Rhysand’s general commander– jobs, you had a lot of practice and challenges to hone your skills.

A tired yawn escapes from you as you navigate the halls of the infirmary to Madja’s study with the intention of wishing her a goodnight before retiring to your room. Your stops falter when your ears pick up on the distinct voices of Cassian and Azriel and suddenly you’re wide awake.

“–was ambushed by dark forces–”

“–never seen so much blood–”

“–I should make haste then–”

“–he only wants y/n–”

Shadows slink out from the corners, momentarily dimming the faelight in your hand in a silent greeting. The voices, once animated, hush and then cease altogether. Madja is the first to emerge from the study, with Azriel and Cassian trailing behind.

"The High Lord requests your presence.”

Not much can unsettle you, given your role as a healer. You’ve tended to a variety of injuries, seen tremendous amounts of spilled blood and have had to navigate through the sorrow of heartbreaking losses. But this. This feels different. This isn’t just anyone. It’s Rhysand. The male, who despite his shameless flirting, has consistently shown nothing but kindness to you. Though the nature of your relationship is uncertain, the mere thought of him being harmed sends a sharp pang through your chest, an ache that transcends the usual clinical detachment you maintain in your profession.

There’s an urgency in your steps as you approach Rhysand’s weak form on the infirmary bed. His body is extremely pale and shivering. A thick layer of sweat clings to his skin. There’s blood everywhere. On the floor, on the bed. It continues to seep out of the wound at his abdomen.

His lids are heavy, laden with exhaustion but he still manages a weary smile when he spots you. “You’re here,” he breathes in surprise, his words carrying a blend of relief and vulnerability.

“I’m here,” you confirm with a reassuring smile as you brush back the dark tendrils of his hair from his face. Though your touch is gentle, the lines on his face seem to deepen.

The air around you begins to shimmer with a soft, golden light. You cast a keen eye over his abdomen, the golden light dancing around you as you assess the full extent of his injury. The wound is deep and not healing as it should and your nose crinkles as the pungent smell of poison drifts up at you.

Rhysand winces as your healing touch meets his wound. Despite his blood staining your hands, you move with practiced grace, drawing upon the healing energies within you. Each movement is deliberate, an intricate crossing between magic and skill as you strive to counteract the effects of the poison.

Rhysand sucks in a sharp breath. He feels like he is dying but he won’t admit that to you. He doesn’t want to scare you. “It hurts.”

“I know,” you respond, your brows furrowing in concentration. The quicker you work, the less pain he’ll have to endure altogether. “It’s the poison.”

His eyes squeeze shut and his face contorts with agony as you press further into the wound. A strangled whimper escapes from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you frown, halting your movements. You turn your head toward the double doors, where you know Madja waited in her study despite the late hour, in case you required assistance. “Should I go get Madja instead?”

“No,” his hands weakly grasps yours to keep them from leaving him. “I–I’m okay. I only need you.”

You nod and take a deep breath, urging your powers to continue surging through your bones and veins. Charged with vitality, they embody a tender current, eager to breathe life into every fiber of the recipient’s being. You sense the poison recoiling at your touch, prompting another cry from Rhysand. Though you know the poison will put up a painful fight, there’s a sense of relief as you realize it is one you can win.

“It’s going to feel worse before it gets better,” you say, your eyes darting to your makeshift table. “I don’t have anything for you to bite down onto. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me a story,” he pleads, his voice desperate and raspy. “Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” You say in contemplation, falling into a thoughtful pause as you search your mind for a story to tell.

“When I was a little girl and my parents were separating, my uncle would take me to the countryside,” you begin to share, your voice softening with the weight of the fond memory and in the intimate space between you and Rhysand, a subtle shift occurs.

“It was my favorite place in all of Dawn. The flowers were always in bloom and the grass was tall and green. We would wake up early to watch the sunrise together. Those were the moments where the world felt so still yet so gentle.”

“One night, as the moon gracefully surrendered its space to the emerging sun, I cried. The realization of the sun and moon being eternal strangers gripped my little heart. The sun, in its golden glory, would never know the tender glow of the moon, and the moon, adorned in silver brilliance, would remain untouched by the sun's warm embrace. It made me sad.”

“My uncle, at first, laughed. He teased me, which made me cry harder. He realized the genuine depth of my sorrow and that’s when he shared something with me,” you continue, a nostalgic smile plays on your lips as you recall the moment.

Unbeknownst to you, Rhysand’s gaze warms in the gentle embrace of the shared memory. He’s momentarily distracted from the stabbing pain.

"He told me that the moon's glow is but a reflection of the sun's radiance," you explain, the magic of your tale intertwining with the magic of your healing touch. "How beautiful, he said. That the love of the sun for the moon is so pure that he sets down so that people can admire the beauty of her.”

"I was still sad, holding onto that stubborn desire to witness the sun and moon together. That's when my uncle introduced me to the magic of an eclipse—a rare celestial dance where the sun and moon finally come face to face. When the next one arrived, my uncle whisked me back to the countryside to witness it, and for the first time, I felt such overwhelming joy. Tears welled in my eyes but they were tears of happiness. I didn’t know one could cry tears of joy until that moment.”

Still aglow, your hands continue their delicate work. You observe a subtle relaxation manifesting in the features of Rhysand but there’s a weariness that settles over you. You know all traces of the poison are gone because its toxic essence was absorbed by you in your haste to protect him. It takes its toll on you, wearing you down and leaving you feeling slightly unsteady, but all you care about is him.

The gaping wound on his abdomen gradually yields to your skillful touch, and a peaceful serenity settles over his face. His eyes flutter shut, and in the hushed atmosphere, Rhysand's words pierce through, lingering like a delicate whisper in the air.

"I think I might be in love with you."

The confession tugs at the strings of your heart, urging it to soar, but you swiftly quell the rising emotions. You attribute Rhysand's words to the delirium induced by his pain, knowing he’d forget all about it. You wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot your story as well. You swiftly clean him up and use your magic to replace the bloody sheets with clean ones before taking your leave. Exhaustion tears at your bones and you can only muster a meek smile to Azriel and Cassian, who waited anxiously outside the infirmary doors for an update. You head straight to your room after and collapse onto your bed.

The following night, as you retire to your room from another day of endless work and studying, you find a carefully wrapped gift at your door. There’s no name on it but as you read the note attached, you have an intuitive inkling as to who the thoughtful gifter was.

To the Sun, in your golden glory, may you always feel such overwhelming joy.

A beautiful embellished trinket box lays beneath the wrapping engraved with two cosmic entities–the sun and the moon. As you open the small keepsake, you're greeted by a soft, ethereal glow that radiates from within. It casts a warm and gentle light and you watch as a projection of the moon and sun dance around you before finally converging into a mesmerizing eclipse.

Rhysand's POV

Like clockwork, Rhysand wakes at the break of dawn with the tendrils of a persistent dream lingering in his mind. A dream that has possessed his nights for weeks. As sleep releases its grasp on his eyes, he reluctantly rises from the bed and decides to get ready for the day, knowing that if he tried, he would not be able to fall back asleep.

He navigates through the familiar halls of the Moonstone palace, mindlessly making his way toward one of the terraces. His steps falter.

There, amidst the soft hues of the awakening city below, stands a feminine silhouette–a vision bathed in the tender light of dawn. You. A sense of cautious curiosity courses through him, eclipsing the remnants of his restless dreams. His gaze lingers on you. There's a nuance in your presence, a fine radiance that hints that you are not from here and though he should be concerned over an unannounced visitor in his home, he can’t bring himself to do so.

A subtle flutter dances in his chest. He’s speaking before he could even properly think.

“You don’t belong here.”

You startle and lose your footing. You’re about to fall but before gravity claims its toll, he moves with swift determination. He reaches forward and grasps your arm, pulling you from the dangers of the edge of the terrace and into the safety of his arms instead. You lift your head and a gasp escapes your lips. Your eyes widen as they look up into his.

“Breathe, darling.”

His mind is searching yours with a quiet desperation but all you are thinking about is how devastatingly handsome he is. He doesn’t perceive you as a threat. Yet, there’s something hauntingly familiar about you.

He hears a name being called. Yours. And then it hits him like a sudden gust of wind. You’re the girl from his dreams. The one he’s dreamt of nearly every day this week and as he repeats the name, his lips curve up into a smirk.

He found you and realization dawns upon him like the morning sun. You don’t belong here but not because you’re from a different court. It’s because you belong with him.

a/n: this part came out a lot softer than I thought it would. The quote I used about the sun loving the moon so much came from something I saw on pinterest. I am a sucker for the sun and moon and stars lol

#rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #acotar rhysand #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #rhysand angst #rhysand fluff

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poisonlove · 5 months

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I NEED YOU | j.o

part 1

This is the second part, I hope you like it

I turn the letter in my hands again, biting my lower lip thoughtfully.

I was sitting on the bleachers of the school gym, watching our basketball team, the Tigers, practice. Despite being physically present, my mind was consumed by the words of that letter, slowly gnawing at me with the agony of curiosity. I'm really trying to stay focused, to cheer for the impressive baskets, step-backs, or three-pointers, but my head feels disconnected from my body.

"Come on!" Isaac shouts after making yet another successful shot. "Did you see that shot?" he asks from a distance, giving me a proud smile. I give him a thumbs up, signaling that I witnessed his shot, and the dark-haired boy smiles broadly, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Isaac turns around, and I catch a glimpse of the number 10 on the back of his jersey.

My eyes return to the letter in my hands, my thumb gliding over the paper.

"My brother is a true idiot," a feminine voice exclaims suddenly. I redirect my attention to the sound of the voice and smile when I see Jenna Ortega standing on the steps near me. Her brown eyes scrutinize me with amusement, a small smile painted on her lips.

I raise an eyebrow in confusion, noticing the two bottles of peach tea she holds.

"Isaac can be an idiot... but he's really good at basketball," I remark, stealing a quick glance at the mentioned boy, smiling as he skillfully dribbles the ball. "I understand," Jenna murmurs calmly, walking over to stand in front of me. "Can I sit?" she asks timidly, seeking unnecessary permission.

"Yes, of course," I murmur quickly, watching with the corner of my eye Jenna's movements.

Jenna raises the corners of her lips in a smile, sitting next to me. The scent of her fragrance wafts into my nostrils, making me sigh at how delightful it is.

"Do you want one?" she asks, offering me a peach tea bottle. "Yes, please," I reply with a polite smile, reaching out to take the refreshing drink. Our fingers brush, and instinctively, I lift my gaze to her eyes, seeing Jenna doing the same. Her doe-like brown eyes intensely lock onto mine through her long lashes, almost sending shivers down my spine with the intensity.

I avert my gaze, clearing my throat.

"I didn't ask if you wanted this because I know you don't like lemon," she innocently murmurs, almost stiffening as she realizes what she said. "How do you know?" I ask with genuine interest, taking a sip of the refreshing beverage.

"When you come to our house, you've said it several times to Isaac," Jenna says, and I look at her with a raised eyebrow, noticing her slight nervous movements.

"Oh, right," I reply, realizing. It doesn't seem too strange that Jenna knows such a thing; after all, I have to remind myself that Isaac's house is hers too. "Anyway, thanks anyway... but what are you doing here? I don't want to kick you out, of course, but you've never come to the practices," I ask curiously, and Jenna looks at me carefully while taking a sip of her tea.

My eyes immediately focus on her lips, seeing how the dimple on her cheeks becomes more pronounced as her lips curl to quench her thirst. Her eyes don't stray from mine, as if she wants to imprint me in her mind.

"Oh, I just promised my brother that if he got a B in math, I would come to see him," she says with an indifferent shrug.

I smile shyly.

"Oh, okay... it's also strange for me that he made it," I say jokingly, and Jenna smiles widely, her eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, I made the bet knowing he wouldn't, but here I am," Jenna says, smiling, directing her gaze to my hands.

She absentmindedly bites her lower lip, almost thoughtfully. "Is that a letter?" she asks with curiosity. I look at the letter in my hands that I had completely forgotten I still had, talking with Jenna distracted me. "Oh, yes, nothing important," I say without thinking too much, putting the letter in my pocket.

"Mmmh... if you say so," she says with a small smile on her lips, sparkling eyes... of I don't really know what. "And tell me... why are you here... because..." Jenna starts innocently, playing with the edges of her red and black checkered shirt. "Because you like my brother?" she timidly concludes, looking attentively at a thread of her ripped jeans, twirling her finger around it.

I almost spit out the tea I was drinking.

"What? No, no," I quickly say, blushing with embarrassment. "Misery, no," I quickly conclude, looking at Jenna with flushed cheeks.

"Mmmh..." she says unconvinced.

"Do you know that I like peach tea, and you don't know that I'm a lesbian?" I ask with a amused tone, and Jenna lightly bites her lower lip with amusement. "I don't know," she says shrugging indifferently, looking at me with a small smile.

This girl is really... unique.

(...)

"Sign! Sign against domestic violence!" I exclaim loudly, vehemently displaying the document I had in my hands, trying to get some female signatures.

After showing the letter to my best friend Sierra three weeks ago, we tried to come up with a plan to gather more clues about who might be the mysterious girl who wrote that letter for me. Besides the neat handwriting, we had noticed that she wrote the letter "E" in a very peculiar way, almost doing it backward.

"No, Sierra, it's not working," I mutter exasperatedly, looking at my best friend. "No one is signing... and as worrisome as it may be, we still get no results," I say, nervously biting my lower lip.

Sierra sighs and also puts the document down, looking at me with eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I've got an idea," she says, smiling widely, showing all 32 teeth. "Unfortunately, teenagers are too stupid to understand their rights... but there must be something that can grab their attention," she says, smiling broadly. "What is it?" I ask with curiosity.

"Votes for the dance," she says innocently.

Sierra opens her backpack and looks for something. Once found, she pulls out a huge stack of papers. "I had thought of a plan B," she says, waving the papers with pride.

I smile at her relatively brilliant idea. "You're a genius," I say sincerely. "You're truly amazing," I conclude with a huge smile on my face.

"I'll take care of the classes over there," she says, pointing to the left corridor. "I'll handle that," I say, smiling slightly and pointing to the right one.

"Girls, I'm here too!" Melissa intervenes with an offended tone. "Right, you take care of the upper floor," I say to my sister, winking, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

Once the tasks are assigned, we start the plan.

I approach the door of the 3A class with my heart pounding in my chest. Tension builds up as I raise my hand to knock, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor, disrupting the tranquil rhythm of the lesson inside.

The wood responds under my knuckles, a dull noise that captures everyone's attention. Curious glances from students focus on me, and the teacher watches me with an inquisitive look.

"Come in," the teacher says with curiosity, placing the pen on the desk.

"Excuse the disturbance," I say nervously, my eyes scanning the faces of the students, and I notice Jenna Ortega at the back of the classroom. The girl doesn't take her eyes off me.

"On behalf of the principal, I've come to collect signatures for the dance," I say, trying to convey sincerity in my voice.

The teacher blinks with surprise. "Oh, yes, proceed," he says, smiling, sitting down at the desk. The tension dissipates slightly, but I still feel the curious stares of the students as I approach to collect the signatures.

I distribute some sheets carefully, watching the students start signing with a smile on their faces. The initial tension gradually dissolves, replaced by a more relaxed atmosphere as students exchange some light comments about the upcoming dance.

Jenna Ortega, from her corner at the back of the classroom, lifts her gaze from the paper to fixate on me again.

"So, who's going to the dance?" I ask with an encouraging smile, trying to engage the students.

A guy raises his hand. "My girlfriend and I will definitely be there!"

Another voice chimes in, "It's always fun, count us in!"

Jenna, still with her eyes on me, nods, "Count me in too, it'll be interesting."

The class seems to positively embrace the idea, and the teacher, observing the general enthusiasm, smiles satisfactorily. The signature collection proceeds smoothly, and as I retrieve the sheet from Jenna's desk, our eyes meet.

I immediately put the signed sheets into a folder, feeling the weight of responsibility decrease slightly. I walk purposefully towards another room, trying to maintain an air of confidence despite my mind still buzzing with the adrenaline from the situation.

(...)

"So, how did it go?" I ask with curiosity, biting my nail nervously.

I was in Isaac's room, pacing back and forth in the swimsuit and bikini top to cover my chest. He had invited me to a quiet day with friends by the pool.

"Sorry, but I found nothing," Sierra says with disappointment, sighing tiredly. "I read every 'E,' looking for that peculiarity, but really, I didn't find anything that matched it," she says with a discouraged tone.

"Me neither," my sister adds on the phone, disappointed.

"Okay, thanks anyway," I say with a sigh, putting two fingers on the bridge of my nose as a sign of concentration. "I'll take a look now," I bite my lower lip nervously, "before going to the pool," I conclude.

"Okay, let me know," Sierra says with curiosity. "We'll talk later, girls," I say, smiling slightly.

I end the call with a sigh, the phone slipping onto Isaac's bed as I sit down with dismay. I pull out the folder with the signatures from my corridor, my nervous fingers gripping the plastic edge.

Each page is a growing anxiety, each signature bringing me closer to the breaking point. Names slip under my fingers, and the sense of urgency pushes me to search more intensively. I delve even deeper into the search, scrutinizing each sheet with almost obsessive precision. The tension reflects on my hands, flipping through documents, notes, and signatures with an almost manic focus.

The feeling of despair grows as possibilities seem to slip through my fingers. I flip through pages and pages, searching for that unmistakable backward "E." With every seemingly promising signature, my heart races, only to be followed by disappointment when it's not the right one. Doubt creeps in, fearing that the answer might elude me once again.

Then, among the pages, I spot that distinctive signature. A closer look, a comparison with other handwriting samples, and suddenly realization strikes like lightning. Jenna Ortega. A mix of dismay and relief washes over me as I understand that the solution was in front of me all along.

I'm not sure how to take this revelation, whether to be happy for solving the mystery or excited that my friend's sister had such intense thoughts about me. Imagining Jenna moaning my name sends a shiver down my spine, a fire igniting in my lower abdomen.

I had always thought Jenna was sexy, but thinking about what hides behind that innocent face...

I bite my lower lip with mischief.

A knock on the door distracts me from my thoughts.

"Come in," I mutter absentmindedly, my voice strangely hoarse. My eyes watch with curiosity as the door opens slowly, revealing Jenna Ortega behind it. "Isaac asked me to come get you," she says, smiling broadly.

My eyes slowly traverse her body, lingering on her toned legs exposed by the terribly short shorts and the white top she's wearing, with the word Anonymous printed on it in bold letters. I smile widely at the detail I can now catch and get up from Isaac's bed.

Jenna lifts her chin and looks at me curiously as I approach her. Her hair is damp, probably from being in the pool in these hours. "Y-yeah... I'm coming. I was just checking something," I say, smiling slightly, looking at Jenna with intensity.

Jenna's eyes sparkle as she notices my gaze on them, and a smile spreads across her lips. She timidly assesses my state, looking at me from head to toe with inquisitive eyes.

"If only you had told me earlier..." I say with a serious tone, my voice dropping terribly. I bite my lower lip with mischief and lift my hand to place it on Jenna's cheek. "Wh-what?" Jenna asks nervously, stammering.

Jenna closes her eyes at the touch of my hand, leaning into my touch.

"What you wanted," I exclaim absentmindedly, my throat dry from nervousness. I timidly run my thumb along Jenna's jaw, brushing against her lips.

Jenna sighs loudly.

"Did you get it?" she asks curiously, raising her hand to place it on mine.

"You had it written on your shirt... took me a while, but I got it," I say playfully, and Jenna genuinely smiles, her brown eyes piercing my soul.

"How?" she asks with curiosity, intertwining her fingers with mine, guiding them down her body, stopping on her buttocks.

"You write the letter 'E' in a strange way," I say playfully, caressing Jenna timidly.

"Mmmh..." she murmurs, probably not hearing what I said. Jenna wraps her arms around my neck, playing with my hair. "You know..." I start, closing my eyes for her gentle touch.

"What?" Jenna looks at me seriously, eyes hooded with excitement.

I lean in and timidly unite my lips with hers, sighing immediately after the contact. Jenna moans into my mouth, moving her lips against mine, increasing the intensity of the kiss. My hands grip her exposed skin more tightly, making her shiver slightly.

I break the kiss and place my lips on her neck, sinking my teeth into her flesh. Jenna moans even more, and I smile at the enchanting sound. With my tongue, I pass over the skin I just bit, trying to alleviate the pain, and then start running it along the line of her neck until I reach her earlobe.

"If you wanted me to fuck you, you just had to ask," I say hoarsely, squeezing her buttocks, causing her to groan. "The idea crossed my mind when I saw you passing by my house half-naked," I say sincerely.

"I thought you hadn't noticed me," Jenna says in a whisper. "No, I did... just that, not having ever talked to you, I didn't want to ruin things. After all, I only knew you by sight," I admit with a stifled laugh, feeling Jenna's fingers resting on my stomach.

"In a way, you're right," Jenna says breathlessly. "You talk too much," she murmurs with a smile on her lips, leaning in and joining our lips in a quick movement.

It seems the atmosphere has become heated in this room.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega imagine #open requests #request #reqs open

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awearywritersworld · 1 year

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A misunderstanding makes you feel insecure.

Haikyu x Reader w/c: 1.4k // 1.1k warnings: just a lil angst, but fluffy endings. a/n: back on my haikyu bullshit bc life is tough rn and i needed something pure and wholesome. post!timeskip, hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader characters: Tsukishima Kei // Kuroo Tetsuro

masterlist

Tsukishima Kei

When Tsukishima first met you in university, he had taken notice of you, though you didn’t really start talking until you were paired for a research assignment. While he was just a tad nervous when you invited him to your apartment to work on it, he didn’t mind as you lived nearby.

An observant person, Tsukishima soon took note of your little quirks, many of which he silently regards as endearing. Your eyes would widen, sparkling with interest as you stumbled upon new articles and discoveries during your research. You always brewed a fresh pot of tea and grabbed something extra at the bakery when you knew he was coming over.

When he told you he plays volleyball for the Sendai Frogs, he was taken aback by how interested you seemed. He informed you about his position and that he started playing because of his older brother. Pink dusted his cheeks when you asked if you could attend his next match, which he agreed to. During the match, a few of his teammates gave him nudges and sly smirks. "You just seem really into the game today, Tsukishima-kun."

Your friendship persisted even after your project had been turned in, and while Tsukki was surprised, he also found that he was relieved. He enjoyed your company, after all. The thought of parting ways with you made his heart skip a beat like some lovesick teenager.

Toward the end of the semester, you're approaching the lecture hall you share with Tsukishima when you spot him talking to one of your classmates, a girl. The sight makes your stomach flip and you freeze, watching their interaction from afar.

"I just wanted to give you this, Tsukishima-kun," she begins nervously, handing him a box of sweets wrapped in pink paper.

"Oh, thanks." His tone is unexpressive as ever.

"You play volleyball, right? Maybe I could come to watch you sometime!"

She's barely finished speaking before he responds, "sorry, but I don't really like having people come to my games. You know, focus and all..."

He trails off and she tries her best to recover. "O-Okay! No problem! I'll see you around."

She scurries away and you can just barely hear him grumble something about annoying admirers and wanting to be left alone. You realize you stopped breathing at some point and all you can think while you harshly exhale is 'oh, god.'

Over the past few months, you had certainly developed a crush on Tsukishima. You feel awful about having gone to quite a few of his games when, evidently, he must have found it irritating. You're staring into nothing with wide eyes when you hear your name being called.

Your head snaps in the direction it came from and your gaze meets Tsukishima's as he approaches you. He greets you as he usually does and you stutter out a reply. Walking into the classroom together, he's squinting at you out of the corner of his eye. It's clear to him that something is up.

"You okay?" he asks as you both slide into your usual seat beside one another.

"Of course!"

That's how the next few days pass--- he knows something is wrong and you pretend that everything is fine. You're quieter than usual and you haven't invited him to hang out at all. Since you're typically the one to take initiative, Tsukishima is left feeling a little lost.

When you don't come to his next game, he finally decides he's going to have to figure out how to resolve whatever is going on. It's already dark outside by the time the team finishes, but he still heads in the direction of your apartment.

With each step, he wracks his mind trying to figure out what the hell he's even going to even say. Did he do something wrong? Have you grown tired of him and his cynicism?

Standing in front of your apartment door, it occurs to him that you might not even be home. He knocks apprehensively and the door swings open a few moments later.

"Tsukki!" you squeak out.

You're in your pajamas, a sight he's never seen before, and it makes his mind go blank. He tries desperately to keep his eyes from trailing down to your thin top and flannel shorts.

"Can I come in?" he finally asks.

"S-sure!" you step aside. "I'll go get some tea started."

He can't help but smile as you hurry off, thinking you might be the cutest person he's ever met. Instead of making his way to the couch, he leans against the doorframe to the kitchen. "Do you need a hand?"

"That's alright, it'll just be a few minutes," you say, reaching up to a high shelf for a tin of tea leaves.

He's behind you in an instant, his body pressed to your back as he grabs the one he knows is your favorite. "This one, right?"

"Yeah, thanks!"

Shocked your voice doesn't betray you, your heart is now hammering in your chest with impossible force. He's still close behind you as he sets it down on the counter. Scratching the back of his neck nervously, he takes a step back.

Once you finish filling the kettle, he speaks up. "Is it okay if I ask you something?"

Setting it down on the stove and turning on the burner, you turn to give him your full attention. "Always."

The way you look up at him expectantly makes him swallow and clear his throat. "I was wondering if everything is okay?"

"What do you mean, Tsukki?"

"Um, you just haven't seemed like yourself the past few days."

He hopes his vague answer is enough, but you tilt your head to the side. "How so?"

If he didn't know any better, he'd think you were trying to torture him.

"Well, you've been less talkative," he nearly winces at how pitiful he sounds. "And then when you didn't come to my game tonight..."

He can't think of what else to say, cursing the way his cheeks heat up. You hardly notice though, too caught up in your own embarrassment and avoiding his eye.

"Oh, that!" you laugh nervously. "You see, I may have... overheard you talking to our one classmates the other day..."

The look on his face tells you he has no idea what you're referring to.

"She gave you a gift a-and asked to come to see you play, but you told her you didn't like when people came to your games." You're talking very quickly by this point. "I-I didn't want to annoy you-"

Tsukishima's eyes nearly pop out of his head in disbelief and he starts to laugh at the situation, but you think he's laughing at you. At first, he fails to notice that tears have begun to slip down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry Tsukki," you apologize, lip quivering.

That gets his attention right away, a look of horror taking over his features.

"No, no, no! I wasn't- I didn't mean to laugh!" His words are jumbled and he tries his best to slow them. "It's just that you're not people, you're... you."

"Oh," you say while wiping at your eyes, not quite yet processing the meaning behind his words.

You still seem so sad and it tugs at Tsukishima's chest, making him panic.

"I like you!" he blurts out and your watery eyes dart up toward his face. "I'm sorry, I thought I was more obvious about it than I was. I-I missed seeing you in the stands tonight and talking to you in class and coming over afterward and-"

He keeps rambling on and you think it might be the longest you'd ever heard the usually very matter-of-fact man speak for. He only stops when you start to giggle, your hand covering your mouth in an attempt to hide it.

The kettle suddenly whistles, breaking any sort of tension that might have lingered between the two of you. You swiftly remove it from the heat before turning back to him.

"I like you, too, Tsukki."

He breathes a sigh of relief, eyes flicking between each of your own. His honesty just moments ago has him surprised and while he'd usually be uncomfortable in a situation like this, oddly enough, he's not.

There's a ghost of a smile adorning his face and he spends a second just looking at you. 'You're... you,' he considers his words from earlier and knows that this is what he meant. You're different from most people. You make him feel at ease.

"You should call me Kei," he states simply, before moving to prepare the tea just the way he knows you like it.

Kuroo Tetsuro

One afternoon, Kuroo stopped by the coffee shop across from his office building downtown. Pulling the door open, he caught the reflection of a person around his age in the glass. As he moved so that he could hold it open for you, you thanked him with a small smile.

You caught his attention, dressed for some seemingly important job, your hair just a touch messy, but in a way that looked good. While you waited in line, he asked you about your day and his charming small talk left you a blushing mess.

You were in front of him in line, but once you finished telling the barista what you wanted, he stepped up to add his own drink to the order. "On me, of course."

Two years later, you're living together in a cozy apartment and you couldn't be happier. Kuroo is everything you could ever ask for--- charismatic, reliable, thoughtful. It was even his idea that the two of you go out for dinner after work every Thursday.

So when that day of the week finally rolls around, you finish your tasks for the day and head over to his nearby office to meet up. You get off the elevator on his floor and make your way down the hallway, noticing his door is open a few inches. You stop once you hear voices inside.

“Isn’t it hard having a partner, though? I mean, always having someone around, not being able to relax and do your own thing.”

The voice is unfamiliar and your head tilts to the side as you listen.

Your boyfriend chuckles, hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. “I suppose they can be a lot sometimes.”

Inwardly, Kuroo reflects on your late-night bouts of energy when he’s half asleep, your ramblings about the newest show you’ve been watching (he truly does try his hardest to keep up), your habit of constantly asking him for reassurance even though you’re so far out of his league it’s unreal.

You can’t see the fond smile that bashfully plays on his lips or hear the thoughts running through his mind. Left with just his words alone, you deflate as you’re overcome by embarrassment. 'Well, he's not wrong,' you think.

“Then what’s the point?” the other person wonders.

You can’t bear to hear Kuroo's answer, so you move away from the door and attempt to swallow the lump in your throat. The fact that you’re about to burst into tears at his work, of all places, is probably why he thinks the way he does. A humorless laugh passes your lips as you berate yourself. You dip into the bathroom and force yourself to take a few deep breaths before anyone can see you.

If only you had waited a few moments longer, you would have heard Kuroo's response. "I figured out pretty quickly they could be a handful sometimes, but it's part of what made me love them, you know?"

"No, gross. Don't go all sappy on me, senpai," the young intern rolls his eyes.

It just makes Kuroo laugh, "you asked! Now get out of my office and go tell them you'd love to get dinner with them tonight."

The intern grumbles as he leaves, but Kuroo doesn't miss the grin tugging at his lips. "After you finish your work for the day, of course," the older man hollers from his seat.

Finally having composed yourself, you exit the bathroom, passing the intern and greeting him politely.

You knock once you reach the door to Kuroo's office and his eyes light up, "hey, sweetheart!"

His tie has already been loosened for the evening and his hair is a bit disheveled.

"Hey, Tetsu," you say sheepishly. Even now, he still makes your stomach flutter.

"I just need a few minutes to finish this up," he informs.

"Sure, take your time!"

You try your best to make your voice sound bright and move to take a seat on the couch that's tucked against the wall. Kuroo returns his attention to the computer, but he quickly realizes you're quiet. Weirdly quiet. He peeks over at you and you're just sitting there on your phone with a blank expression.

The soft clicking of his keyboard stops. He says your name and you hum in acknowledgment. "What's on your mind?"

You glance over to find that he's looking at you, his body leaning over his desk in your direction. The expression he wears is a gentle one. His obvious concern and the fact he's already picked up on your vexation are enough to arouse the emotions you'd hopelessly tried to bury earlier. In an attempt to hide your tears, you avert your eyes. The action immediately has Kuroo rising from his seat.

"Hey, hey, hey," he frets, sitting beside you and putting a hand on your knee. "Look at me, what happened?"

The sight of you like this makes his heart squeeze tightly in his chest and when you finally turn to him, his eyes are burning with worry.

"It's nothing, it's dumb," you dismiss, waving your hand.

"Sweetheart, don't say that. Something's got you all worked up." He brushes your hair behind your ear. "Talk to me."

"I-I'm sorry" you choke out.

"There's no reason to be-"

"I know I can be a lot sometimes," you add, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.

Realization and guilt descend upon him in tandem. "You heard-"

"Only some of it!" you clarify before he finishes, "I-I didn't mean to listen in on you, I just-"

He boops your nose, making your words stop in your throat. "You just didn't stay and listen to the part where I told him you it's what makes me love you so much."

He's got a little grin on his face, refraining (with some difficulty) from calling you a dork.

"You said that?"

He hums, "of course I did."

A moment passes and he can sense you're still feeling unsure of yourself, so he continues. "I can be passive and a bit... emotionally closed off at times. It makes me admire how expressive you are and how strongly you react to things, both good and bad."

Touched by his words, you feel all your anxiety ebb away, replaced by a warm feeling in the center of your chest. "Then you'll be happy to know that is perhaps the sweetest thing anyone has ever said and it makes my heart want to explode."

"Ah, see! There it is!" he beams and stands up, offering you his hand.

Once you rise to your feet, he places a kiss firmly on your temple.

"Alright, the rest of this can wait," he decides as he grabs his bag, turns off his computer, and slips his fingers through your own. "I'm all yours."

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fictionalslvr · 11 months

Text

SYNOPSIS:Leon is a rookie cop who needs an instructor for practical classes, you. But you're so damn pretty that he can't control himself.

PAIRING: Rookie cop¡RE2Leon x Instructor¡F¡Reader

WORD COUNT:1.478k

WARNINGS: SMUT/NSFW Sub¡Leon. Male!Masturbation. Virgin!Leon. Whimpering mess!Leon. Pervert!Leon.

NOTES:This was my first work for tumblr, so this might not represent what I'm actually writing like at the moment. In fact, i envolved a lot since this one.

It have the part 2 of this post, check it please!

Leon is a dedicated rookie. Since he arrived, he's always studying and taking notes of everything his boss says. With a notepad and a pen, everything that is said to him (even if it's a lie) he will write down and study about it. He will do a long research every day and tries to get better every time, like he's in a competition, but he's too kind to think he is superior to others, no, he's not that type of guy. One day, his boss was doing a speech, and Leon was writing down what he was saying, his boss would obviously notice and ask him why.

—"Leon Kennedy…are you taking notes of my speech?"

He lifts his head immediately and faces his boss, his coworkers looking at him too.

—"Y-Yes…sir."

The boss would only look at him and chuckle softly, nodding without saying a word more. And how could he not feel proud of this dedicated rookie? He is the most excited to work here, and this is adorable. When he notices the potential of Leon Kennedy, he decides to make him even better, by giving him some new classes that will make him even more experienced.

—"I found someone that will teach you some practical classes. Like how to hold a gun properly, how to defend citizens, how to approach enemies or victims, all of this stuff. You will learn that before the others. Would you like those extra classes, Leon?"

And oh, of course he will accept. He's looking at his boss with his eyes sparkling, and if he had a tail, it would be wagging a lot now.

It's his first day of extra classes, he's the only one in the police station right now, sitting on a chair while waiting for his instructor while his leg goes up and down in full anxiety. He's playing with his own fingers, trying to distract himself for a while. The cracky door suddenly opens and Leon gets up to greet his instructor, who is superior to him.

—"Uhm, hello! I'm Leon Kennedy, nice to meet you."

He offers his hand to a hand shake and looks up to see the person in front of him. It's a pretty woman, who chuckles at his good humor and shakes his hands. She has soft hands and a scent that is as sweet as her smile. Leon had his mouth a little open in surprise, he could almost drool at this wonderful woman.

—"Nice to meet you, Leon." You tell him your name, greeting him back with a soft smile, he's adorable. He can't help but look at every feature of you, looking up and down rapidly and trying to hide that he was staring at you. You're just so beautiful…he can't help himself.

After a while looking at everything about you, Leon finally snaps out and starts to remember why are you here, he needs to focus on the practical class. He's holding a gun while pointing to the shooting dummy, a little goofy while holding it, and he suddenly feels a hot breath against his ear, chuckling while wrapping hands in his to show him how to hold it right.

–"Hold it like this, Leon…" You taught him, your soft voice going inside his brain and making him shiver. He gulps down and as you tell him, your body is very close to his and he's almost sweating.

And this is a torture to Leon now, each friday, it's the day that he does the practical classes. Right now, he's a bit more comfortable around you, but each class he seems more distracted with something. He's indeed distracted, because of you. Using some tight shorts that almost shows your butt, making your legs exposed and your thighs being suffocated in those shorts. Walking around Leon, going close to him and teaching him like that would only drive him crazy.

One day, he was out of his mind, he took a picture with his phone of you, walking through the police station with those slutty shorts and tight clothes. He took the picture without you knowing and kept it for himself, everyday looking at it and biting his lips in desire, that is so wrong…

He shouldn't be doing that, he knows. He's on his bed, panting heavily while his abs shakes softly at the pain. Leon bites his lips, almost making it bleed while trying to hold his obsenic sounds he's doing, he's feeling so guilty for doing this. But how could he hold himself with such a pretty instructor like you? Your voice is framed on his brain while his hands go up and down at his throbbing dick, all red and the tip already leaking pre cum while he jerks off to the picture he took of you.

–"Im sorry…im sososo sorry…." Leon is almost crying, he's been overstimulating himself for a while now, like he's been denying his own orgasm to punish himself for doing this. It's so wrong, he shouldn't be doing this. After this time, his poor cock was in pain, Leon had watery eyes, looking for a release after all this time punishing himself for doing that. He feels like a dirty pervert, and maybe he really is.

–"Nnggh…oh my god…im soooorry…"

Some tears run down his red cheek, all his face is red while he does that, he's embarrassed for his behavior. But his body keeps doing, hands going up and down while he shakes and begs for your sorry, even if you're not listening to it, if you would, you would never look at his face again. Leon is so close, his mind is blurry at this point, his hips cups his own hands in pure desire, he's about to cum after torturing himself, and the release is everything he can think right now. But his phone vibrates before he could cum, not showing your picture on the screen anymore, and Leon just sobs like a child before seeing that is a unknown number calling him, he sighs and take a deep breath before answering the call, his hand static on his dick while his dick hurts for more.

—"I'm sorry for calling so late, Leon. I just want you to know that i can't go tomorrow for our class, so you don't need to stay at the police station. By the way, i got your number from your boss if you're wondering."

Leon became silent for a while on the call, and you can hear him breathing heavily for a while before answering you.

—"O-Oh…it's you. Uhm, it's okay, thanks for letting me know."

He says rapidly, like he's in a rush. Only listening to your voice would be enough for him to cum at this voice call, he has to end it quickly.

—"So, i just called you for that, sorry for bothering, you seem occupied."

He gulps down and stares at his own cock throbbing again while listening to your soft voice. Leon bites his own lips, containing himself. "Quick, end this call" he thinks, but he doesn't want to be rude with you.

–"Yes, yes. I-I…have to go, I'm sorry. Goodbye!" Leon says in a sudden urge, leaving you with a raised eyebrow. He touches the screen to end the call, not even hearing your answer, he can't take this much longer, after all.

His body shivers completely, while he's panting heavily, jerking himself again at a fast pace, very needy of this, he's not even trying to hide his whimpers and moans now, he's calling your name and begging to cum. He's close again, his mind is a little dizzy while he closes his eyes to the desired release, letting himself finally cum after all of this.

Leon is a virgin, so he only masturbates himself sometimes. After he cums, it makes him completely messy, his face all red, his abs dirty in his own cum while he tries to recover. He's trying to recover his breath slowly, recovering his mind too as well, he had never cum a lot like that. And you're the reason for that, you make him feel desperate like that.

–"Leon Kennedy…I heard you."

His eyes go wide as he listens to your voice, searching for you at every inch of his dark room. Just to find his phone, still on that call. Leon was so desperate to cum, that he didn't end up the call like he thought, and you had to listen to this show he made for you. Calling your name while jerking himself like a desperate puppy in heat. He's so embarrassed, he doesn't know what to answer now, he picks his phone on the bed and leans his ear closer to it. You will hate him now, he's sure about this. He's a dirty pervert, and you know that.

#fanfic #leon kennedy #re2 leon #smut #leon x you #leon x reader #leon x fem reader #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #fictionalslvr

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shadowdaddies · 7 days

Note

Hello girly, there is so little fics about Tarquin, so can I please request a Tarquin x mate!reader. Where she is a quiet and kind female, it would be cool if she was a "lesser fae" (like she has a tail or horns). She loves him and doesnt really want a role in court, she just wants to be there for him. Maybe the high lords dont know much about her, and there is a High Lords meeting and she randomly appears (maybe pregnant) and just some fluff, and Mor, Feyra and Viv being happy because there is another female to be frainds with

ahh I love this, there's definitely not enough fics for Prythian's Most Eligible Bachelor™. Thank you for the request!

Less is More

Tarquin x Reader

warnings: this does get a little steamy at the end

Taking practiced, steady breaths, you forced your pounding heart to slow and plastered on a confident smirk as you took long strides through the open doors.

Your hand was slick with sweat against Tarquin’s, your mate giving a reassuring squeeze while he guided you to walk slightly in front of him. Were you a weaker faun, you would have been smothered by the table’s gazes burning into you, but you were not weaker. You were a “lesser faerie” - or so that was your title given from the old High Fae - but you were High Lady of the Summer Court, and remembering that put the strength in your spine you needed as you took your seat.

Tarquin took his place next to you, turquoise eyes swimming with pride as he drank in the attention from the room. He feigned nonchalance, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your hand atop his against the table. “Ah yes,” he laughed softly, raising your joined hands in display for the group of High Lords and Ladies. “Allow me to introduce my mate, the High Lady of the Summer Court.”

You smiled, unable to control the blush that bloomed upon your cheeks as Feyre gave you a polite smile and nod, Rhysand and Kallias both granting quiet congratulations.

It was Viviane who smirked, reclining back in her seat as she loosed a dramatic sigh. As the second High Lady in Prythian’s history after Feyre along with what you’d heard of her, you liked the female already. “It’s nice to have another High Lady at the table. Perhaps soon enough, each court will recognize their females as equals.”

Her icy blue eyes sparkled with amusement at the sight of flames on Beron’s fingertips, the High Lord of Autumn’s focus having never moved from the horns on your head, perfectly framed by your royal crown.

Conversely, Tarquin’s own stare never faltered, watching Beron with a predator’s gaze. He knew better than to bait the other High Lords - Tarquin found it better to rule as himself, a kind yet firm leader - and you admired him impossibly more for it.

“Welcome, High Lady. Let us begin,” Helion purred, his smooth voice emanating a deep power that seemed to bring Beron out of whatever anger-filled haze he was lost in. Murky brown eyes whipped to Helion, who returned the acknowledgment with a slight arch of his brow.

“Beron, if there is something you wish to lead the meeting with, please do so,” Helion drawled, his demeanor remaining cool despite noticeable efforts not to look past Beron to where the Lady of Autumn was seated. You made a mental note to ask Tarquin about that later, focused on keeping your chin high for the moment.

Beron’s eyes flicked between you and Feyre - the lesser fae and former human at the table - but wisely he remained silent. “Continue, Helion,” Beron ground out, and you had to bite back your smile at Rhys and Feyre’s wicked grins, darkness recoiling from where it had been ready to strike.

You sat through the meeting, listening to male egos battle each other over petty squabbles, only interjecting as you and Tarquin found necessary. It was easy to find where you would fit in with this group. While it was clear Autumn would never accept you and Dawn was ambivalent, you felt a fast kinship towards Night and Winter - unsurprising, given those courts were who your wise mate was most drawn to.

As soon as the meeting ended, Beron quickly cleared, leaving the Lady of Autumn to scurry behind him. Your heart hurt for her, her eyes tired as her eldest son seemed to be the only person who paid her any mind. The other High Lords dispersed, only Night and Winter lingering behind with Tarquin and you.

“Finally, that’s over!” the Night Court’s emissary, Morrigan, practically squealed as she maneuvered around the table to you, enveloping you in a warm hug.

A surprised laugh escaped you at her kind and gentle touch, the dichotomous nature of the Night Court’s leaders jarring despite Tarquin’s advance notice.

“So, would you tell us the story of how you and Tarquin met?” Viviane pressed, her arm looping through yours as Feyre fell into step alongside the both of you. You were surprised at how easy it was to talk with them - both High Fae from such different backgrounds - but you felt beyond blessed by the Mother for not only allies, but new friends through your role.

The crescent moon was high in the sky, stars twinkling impossibly bright when you felt the heavy need for sleep weigh upon you. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes struggling to stay open until familiar hands draped a jacket over your shoulders, and you stirred to see Feyre, Morrigan, and Viviane all slowly rising.

Bidding each of them a good night, you leaned into Tarquin’s warmth, savoring the calming scent of coconut and sea spray while he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hair. He led your to the shared room in which you were staying, closing the door gently behind before peeling his jacket from your shoulders.

A whine escaped you at the sudden cold, and your mate chuckled, arms wrapping around you fully this time. Enveloped in his warmth, you settled against Tarquin’s chest and swayed to a silent melody, the rhythm of the ocean.

“You were incredible tonight,” he murmured against your neck. “You are always incredible, and yet you always blow me away with your grace and wisdom.”

He pressed another lingering kiss to your shoulder, working his way up to hover near your ear. Teeth tugged lightly on the skin of your earlobe, your mind growing dizzy with the sensations when he whispered, “I am so thankful, and honored, to have you as my mate and High Lady.”

Feeling the weight of the crown against your horns, you couldn’t help but tease him. “Horns and all?” but Tarquin’s eyes grew darker, turquoise eyes like a brewing sea storm.

He pulled your head to his toned chest, tongue flicking out against one of those sensitive horns. You mewled at the motion, the scent of the room changing with the fervor of arousal growing.

“Especially these,” he breathed, hoisting your legs around his hips before turning to toss you onto the mattress. You bounced against the silken sheets with a giggle, watching your mate lift his shirt over his head while his gaze raked unabashedly over every inch of your figure.

“Every part of you is perfect,” Tarquin whispered, white hair aglow in the light from the window, eyes shining with mischief as his body slid sinfully against your own.

“I love you,” you whispered, legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss. He once again kissed his way down your body, this time peeling away the fabric of your dress as he did so. Your consciousness drifted away at his touch, carnal feeling and deep emotion invading your senses while the only thought you could manage was that “forever is not long enough with this male.”

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takearisk-xo · 7 months

Text

Written for @mppmaraudergirl and BlackEvans BFF Week! Day 4: Being Bros

"Go on, Evans." Sirius Black muttered softly.

Lily slid her desk mate a disdainful scowl and ignored him.

"He cursed a fourth year," he continued. "The poor fellow was laid up in hospital for three days."

Lily waited until Professor McGonagall's back was turned before whispering, "If you want to get back at Mulciber so badly, why don't you do it yourself?"

"Because I know you want to."

Continuing on with her notetaking, she purposefully did not acknowledge this assertion.

"And because you cast that nappy rash jinx better than anyone I've ever seen."

The corners of Lily's mouth twitched but she kept her eyes on her parchment.

"C'mon..." Black crooned. "He'll think it was me anyway. What have you got to lose?"

"My badge?" Lily shot back.

The look he gave her was alarmingly earnest. "What's the point of being Prefect if you can't get away with something every now and again?"

Her gaze darted across the room to where Mulciber and Avery sat heads together and muttering in the back of the class. She was loath to admit that Black had a point. Ever since the start of term, those two had been especially brutal. It would feel so good to give into the vindictiveness coursing through her veins.

The longer she stared at the Slytherin boys, the more her resolve crumbled.

Silently, Lily slid her wand out of the inside pocket of her robes and laid it across her lap. Sirius' eyes returned lazily to the front, the picture of nonchalance, but a sharp smirk lingered at his mouth.

She turned the wand slowly in her hand, the incantation barely a quiver on her exhale, followed by a soft whoosh from beneath the desk.

Lily didn't watch to see if her jinx had landed. Instead, she returned her focus to her transfiguration notes and waited for the inevitable.

It didn't happen right away, just a slight rustle from the behind them. Then, after a few minutes, the rustling turned to fidgeting which turned to downright squirming.

Lily listened to the escalating discomfort while clenching her teeth to keep from giggling.

Next to her, Black's shoulders shook with silent laughter, until finally, there was the clatter of a chair and Professor McGonagall's steely stare whipped around to take in Mulciber hopping from foot to foot while violently scratching his jock.

"Fuck's sake, man," James Potter blurted from the table behind Lily and Sirius. "Have some dignity."

The entire sixth year class burst into sniggers and cackles.

"Mr. Mulciber!" McGonagall clipped sternly. "You will stop fapping about this instant or you will leave my class."

Mulciber's replying grunt could hardly be considered coherent, but he seemed to realize his situation was beyond help or explanation. He cast one last hate-filled expression toward James and Sirius and then rushed out the door with tears in his eyes.

Professor McGonagall attempted to call everyone's attention back to the front, and Lily had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide her snort.

Black nudged her elbow and muttered, "Nice one, Evans."

"You know," a low voice interjected from over her shoulder. Lily glanced around to see Potter leaning forward over his desk to look between them. "I'm not sure I like the two of you being friends."

"We're not friends," Lily hissed, but to her eternal mortification there was a fondness in her tone of voice.

Black raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Allies, then?"

Shaking her head, she bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a grin.

"Whatever you call it," Potter added quietly, "It's unsettling to see the two of you working together."

His expression looked anything but wary. He looked positively giddy. Lily's breath caught at the sparkle in his eyes, followed by the involuntary smile that seemed to take over her face anytime his attention was solely focused on her.

She internally chastised herself for her ridiculous response to his proximity and attempted to quash the feelings heating her middle.

"Don't get used to it."

"I'm not so sure, Prongs," whispered Black smugly. "She's had a taste of delinquency, now. I think she's one of us."

Potter's eyes widened in mock fear. "Absolutely terrifying."

"Potter!" McGonagall cut in harshly. "Sit. Down."

James shrank back into his chair and mumbled a quick, "Sorry, Professor."

McGonagall gave all three of them a pointed glare, then began her lecture again as if there hadn't been an interruption at all. Lily felt somewhat scolded by the expression, but the satisfied retribution settling into her bones far outweighed it.

Something else lingered in the space between her lungs as well.

Something like camaraderie.

#blackevans bff week #mppmaraudergirl #blackevans #sirius black #lily evans #jily #jilypad

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weemssapphic · 10 months

Note

Hello! I'm in a bit of a ✨️Mood✨️ and was wondering if I might request an insecure reader, with Brienne to reassure them? Just a titch of angst with loads of (romantic) fluff? 🤗

I Wanna Get Better

A/N: Hello, darling! With how long ago this request was placed I am certain the ✨️Mood✨️ has passed, but also one can never go wrong with Brienne being a soft, loving girlfriend. I hope this turned out alright 💗 (the title is literally just because I was listening to Bleachers as I wrote this and it semi fit, I just could not think of anything lol)

Words: ~1.3k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: insecure!reader, body image issues, hurt/comfort, fluff

Standing in front of the mirror, your eyes trailed over your body, stopping on every single flaw, every little imperfection. You could feel it happening - could feel yourself starting to spiral as the thoughts in your head became louder and louder, drowning out the world around you. Everything you hated about yourself was amplified in the first rays of dawn, in the silence of your little bedroom. You hadn’t even meant to look in the mirror, you’d simply woken up early and gotten up to get some water - yet here you were.

The feeling of strong arms wrapping around your torso from behind ripped you momentarily out of your thoughts, and your eyes snapped up to meet Brienne’s sparkling pools of sapphire in the mirror.

Your eyes traveled over her form, or what you could see of it as it was partially hidden behind you - her chiseled face, pale lips pulled up into a sleepy smile; her golden curls, soft and messy after a night’s sleep; her broad shoulders and muscular arms, dotted with the cutest little freckles; her large hands, long, slender fingers splayed out across your bare abdomen.

Brienne was just so… perfect. So beautiful. So confident - at least outwardly. Of course she had her own issues with her appearance, you knew that. But she seemed able to take them in stride somehow, seemed to be able to focus on other things, while you felt yourself drowning.

“You weren’t in bed… What are you doing?” Brienne’s eyebrows furrowed in concern at the somber expression on your face, lips parted gently as she held your gaze.

You dropped your eyes to the floor and attempted to untangle yourself from your girlfriend.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, eyes still cast downwards as you turned away from the mirror, crossing your arms self-consciously across your chest. “Just on my way to get some water.”

Of course, nothing went unnoticed by Brienne, whose gaze immediately dropped to your crossed arms and your slouched posture. You felt her fingers grip your chin and push your head up, ever so gently, so that you would meet her gaze.

“What’s going on?” Her eyes were filled with so much concern it nearly made you sick. You hated seeing her like this, and you hated being the cause for her worry - you hated yourself for it. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, your cheeks slowly turning pink as the familiar sting of tears pricked at your eyes, shame coursing through your veins.

Brienne stepped closer, her hand sliding from your chin to cup your cheek, her thumb wiping away a stray tear that had begun to fall. Nuzzling your face into her warm palm, your brain scrambled (unsuccessfully) to come up with an excuse for your sudden mood.

“I’m not good enough for you,” you whispered finally, so quietly that you hoped Brienne hadn’t heard you. Unfortunately for you, she had - she was always able to see right through you anyway - and the crease between her eyebrows deepened.

Without saying a word, Brienne crouched slightly and - quite literally - swept you off your feet to carry you bridal style. You let out a yelp as she lifted you effortlessly into the air, and soon you were deposited carefully onto the bed. Brienne settled next to you, her face a mixture of concern and pure adoration as she opened her arms and pulled you into them. One hand splayed across your back to press your torso tightly to hers, while the other hand came to rest on your hip, fingers dancing across your skin in soothing patterns.

“What makes you think you’re not good enough for me?” she murmured softly into your hair, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. She let you tuck your head under her chin, knowing it was sometimes easier for you to talk about your feelings when you didn’t have to worry about making eye contact.

“Just look at me,” you whispered, unable to keep your voice from trembling. “I’m not special, I’m not pretty. I-I have stretch marks and my clothes don’t fit like they used to. And you’re so beautiful. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and- and I don’t know why you would choose me.” The tears began to flow freely down your cheeks and you buried your head deeper into the crook of her neck.

You felt Brienne’s chest shake before you heard it - her deep chuckle. When you raised your head to get a look at her face, you saw nothing but admiration in those bright blue irises, in the gentle upward curve of her lips. Her eyebrow was slightly raised, and you felt your cheeks redden again.

“It’s very flattering that you think of me that way, my love,” she chuckled, her own cheeks a bit pink. “I used to think it was all a big joke to you. I have been insulted by so many people throughout my life, ridiculed for my appearance, stared at like some sort of beast. I believed I was the ugliest girl alive. Brienne the Beauty, they called me. You’re the first person who truly means it. And I believe you.”

Brienne removed her hand from your hip and traced a scar of her own on her abdomen. You watched, entranced, as her fingertips pulled at her skin, moving further down towards the light stretch marks littering her hips. “Do you think they make me less beautiful?”

You shook your head vigorously as you buried it further in Brienne’s neck. You could feel Brienne smile against the crown of your head, pulling you closer and reaching out for your hand to intertwine your fingers. Holding her hand managed to soothe you instantly, and you gave it a light squeeze. You sniffled.

“Why do you think yours make you less beautiful then?” Brienne’s voice was gentle and calm - you found yourself clinging to it, desperate to stay afloat. You shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish.

“You look badass… I just look ugly, I guess.”

Brienne let go of your hand to cup your cheek once more, this time with a little more force. She made sure you met her gaze before she spoke.

“You are the most beautiful woman to grace the Seven Kingdoms.”

Brienne’s eyes burned with sincerity and adoration, and there was a certain graveness to her expression that made your cheeks burn. She sealed her words with a kiss, pressing her lips to yours so tenderly that it left you breathless. Her lips began to trail reverently along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone - she pressed soft kisses all the way down your body, focusing on areas that she knew you were self-conscious about; your stomach, your hips, each and every stretch mark. You could feel Brienne’s love for you with every peck of her lips, and it somehow managed to make your heart a little lighter.

Her nose nuzzled against your bare skin - it tickled a little and had you giggling in spite of yourself. You could feel Brienne’s lips curl up into a smile as you laughed and her kisses turned sloppier, until you were shaking with laughter and gasping for air.

When you finally looked down the length of your body, still fighting back giggles, Brienne was curled up at your hips, her chin resting on the swell of your stomach, looking adoringly up at you. Her eyes shone with affection and warmth, her cheeks were rosy, her hair mussed - the sight took your breath away.

“You are impossible, Brienne of Tarth. You know that?” You couldn’t help but mirror her smile as you beamed down at her.

“So you’ve told me,” she said with a grin, before crawling up next to you again and hovering over you to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “And you are beautiful, my love.”

“I love you, Brienne,” you said, a little breathlessly.

“I love you, too,” she replied, before mirroring your earlier actions and nuzzling her face into your neck.

taglist: @oceansblooming @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles

as always please let me know if you wanna be added to or removed from the taglist!

any and all comments will literally make my heart sing <3 thank you for reading!

#brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #game of thrones x reader

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munsonsreputation · 1 year

Note

CONGRATS ON 500 FOLLOWERS!!! I’d love to request a Taylor-inspired Steve fic for the song “Labyrinth.” I feel like it’s so Steve-post-Nancy-breakup coded it’s unreal 🧣

hi libby!!!!

i'm so sorry this request took so long, but i hope you're still able to enjoy this short little piece i wrote up!!! i personally love "labyrinth" and i think it's one of the most underrated tracks on "midnights." and you're so right! this song is totally steve coded and he would have this song on repeat while he laid on his bed and though about life!

i hope you like my spin on your request and thank you so much for your sweet comments and support 💘💘💘

Lost is how Steve Harrington felt most of the time when it came to his love life. Not that he needed a partner to feel validated or loved, but it just felt nice to have someone to be there for and to stick with him.

For a long time, he thought that person would be Nancy—and if anything it was the only person he ever thought about spending the rest of forever with, but plans seemed to change in her mind and he knew then that her heart was set on Jonathan’s but he could never be angry at her for choosing someone else.

He knew that he was lacking in a lot of areas, the ones that Nancy valued, and the ones that he himself tried to improve upon, but it was just too late. And he accepted the fact that he messed up, but it hurt like hell to see her be happy with someone who wasn’t him.

But he also knew that it only hurt that much because of how raw everything was. That with time, that hurt wouldn’t be there anymore because he would be happy that she was getting the love she deserved and he would be moved on.

Robin, being the sweet soul that she was, attempted to help him “move on” which consisted of a bunch of random double dates with Vicky’s friends whom she thought he would like and other times just random strangers she met at the mall. But despite her efforts, Steve couldn’t help but compare them to Nancy and even see her within those other girls.

Part of him despised the fact that everyone just expected him to bounce back from the breakup because he was Steve Harrington. It was never going to be easy trying to get over someone he loved, but them not loving him back.

But he was willing to try.

At this point, everything felt futile. Like he’d be spending the rest of his life trying to move on from Nancy Wheeler. So he stopped going on those stupid double dates with random girls, and instead put his time into trying to focus on himself. Picking up a new hobby to take up his time, which was reading. Visiting the local library and strolling through the endless shelves of books until he found one that interested him enough for him to check out and borrow.

“I’ve read this one before! Lots of plot twists, but you’ll love it!” You bubbled enthusiastically, scanning the book that the handsome stranger had slid towards you.

His eyes caught yours for the first time. And like a slow motion love potion, there was something igniting between the two of you and, in a snap, everything just floated away from Steve’s consciousness. For the first time in the last three months, he didn’t dare see an ounce of Nancy nor think of her when he was looking at you.

His mind echoing the thoughts, “uh oh, I’m falling in love again.”

Steve wasn’t one for believing in love at first sight, but with you something just happened. So flabbergasted, he stared at you with his mouth wide open and his eyes sparkling. It made you laugh, waving your hands in front of him to snap him out of that gaze.

The same gaze you caught him in three months later as you sat across from him in his friend’s living room playing uno.

“Harrington, snap out of it!” You scolded jokingly, snapping your fingers in front of his face where he finally closed his mouthing and blinked.

Everyone giggled, nudging each other as you stared at him amused with your brows raised.

“W-what? I’m fine…I’m good…is it my turn yet?” He stammered as you broke and joined in on the laughter, watching him awkwardly shuffled the cards in his hands to avoid the embarrassment.

The hand of cards you held in your palms flattened out against the wood grain of the coffee table as you cleared your throat and stood up. Steve eyed your stance, following you look around the room smiling at his friends that were now yours.

“No, you’re fine! It’s getting late. Do you think we should head home?”

You turned to him, asking if that was ok, solely with your eyes, and he nodded, a small smile on his face, “Steve and I are gonna head to the farmer's market in the morning so we need to rest up.”

Steve’s adorning eyes never strayed away, your body shifting around the room with comfort and ease while you embraced every single one of them with your famous warm and tight hugs. Smiles exchanged with people whom you never thought you’d gotten the opportunity to be friends with.

Such funny and amazing people.

He never thought in a million years that he’d find someone who’d get along with quite literally anyone, especially his ex-girlfriend, Nancy. If anything, you showed just as much compassion and love as you did the rest of his friends, not caring that she had history with your boyfriend. But you more so knowing and accepting that the past was past, and you weren’t going to allow yourself to become hurt over something that was over.

Instead, you enjoyed spending time with Nancy and the rest of his friends. Appreciating their company and acceptance of you now that you were in Steve’s life. A part of you constantly feeling a sense of belonging knowing that they never treated you differently and Steve could feel that.

He could feel the love, just in the way that the kids would light up when you walked into the room with an arm full of snacks for movie night, or bug him about the next time they would be able to see you.

He knew you were loved by Nancy and Robin when they would tug you up from the sofa and dance around the living room until your feet hurt and the three of you ladies ended up in a giggling mess on the carpet.

He knew you were loved by Eddie and Jonathan when they would jokingly hide your car keys so that you and Steve could stick around for a few more rounds of Uno because they loved both of your presence.

His friends loved you so much so that it terrified him because the thoughts of something bad happening between the two of you would mean that one of you would no longer be able to share these friends anymore.

Now the thoughts echoing as he knew something always was too good to be true. Like a plane dropping down just when he thought the flight was smooth, “Oh no, I’m falling in love again.”

He swallowed thickly, running his palms up and down his denim covered legs before he stood up and found his way next to you, giving a final hug to Robin as she walked you both to the front door.

She smiled at Steve, sending her own hug towards her best friend, making you smile at the scene of Steve letting out a fake exasperated sigh, like he could ever get tired of her, and eventually wrapping his arms around her back.

“You guys get home safe and let me know how the farmer’s market is. Maybe we can all go next weekend!” She bubbled happily, pulling off of Steve and turning to send you a grin.

You nodded assuringly, molding yourself to Steve’s side as he came up beside you, “I’ll call you when we get home from it and let you know then.”

“Night, guys.” Steve shouted, wrapping his other arm across your shoulders, guiding you two out door, hearing the goodbyes shouted before Robin locked up for the night.

The crickets filled the night with their chirps, a slight breeze waving across your skins as you made the short distance to his maroon car that still shone in the dark of the night, thanks to the stars and the single street light.

“Did’ya have fun tonight?” Steve asked, twisting the key into the slot of the passenger door, unlocking it for you.

You tilted your chin up at him, a doey look you gave him every single time he asked that question because the answer was always the same, “I always have fun when you and your friends are around.”

But tonight your response was different, “I had fun! Were you ok? You were staring off a lot.”

You waited for a response as you got into the car, a slight hum leaving his lips before he shut the door and jogged over to the driver’s side where he settled in.

“I just was thinking about some things.” He told you, buckling his seatbelt and starting the car.

You leaned your elbow on the center console, getting closer to him. “About what?”

“It’s nothing important.” He told you, fingertips skimming your arm as he reached for the gear stick.

But if there was one thing you learned after all this time dating Steve, it was that sometimes he liked to keep things to himself before they unfortunately boiled over. He had this way of just not wanting to say how he was feeling because he was terrified of what you would think or say, but you were doing your best to try to break down those walls because you wanted him to be as open and honest, and comfortable with you.

“Steve,” you said delicately, placing a hand on top of his to stop the action of driving off, and he looked at you with confusion on his face, as if you were just going to accept his response.

“You can tell me anything, you know…you don’t have to be scared of letting me inside your thoughts.”

He felt your thumb smoothing over his knuckles and saw the way your eyes softened just like your voice. The words slipping from you with ease because you were dead serious about wanting Steve to trust you with every ounce of his being.

It was only a second after that where you smiled, tilting your head closer to his to press your lips against his. The kind of kiss where there was no movement, just skin touching to let him know that you were right here with him. And so he couldn’t help but smile against you despite his thoughts echoing the scariest words he longed to say out loud.

But before he could even stop himself or pull away from your skin, the words came flowing out like a breeze of fresh air.

“I’m in love with you.”

His voice was soft, yet you didn’t miss the shakiness in his tone, and the way his lips seemed to quiver after he had admitted his feelings.

You were the one who pulled away first, and to Steve that almost felt like a twinge of rejection, like a plane that was free falling and he could do nothing but brace for impact.

But your smile and thumbs brushing over his cheek turned that plane right around.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

And that’s when Steve Harrington knew that he was no longer lost. That even though it took so many wrong turns to get here, he was here with you and that’s all that matter. That if there was one person who wouldn’t mind getting lost in, it would be you and your mind.

leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @fckthtgetmoney @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24

#munsonsreputation #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x taylor swift #taylor swift x stranger things #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagines #stranger things x you

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neewtmas · 2 months

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ᴀʙʙᴇʏ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ // ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴠɪ

pairing: george karim x fem!reader

wordcount: 3.6k

summary: a case that takes longer than expected, an unrequited crush, and the hardest decision you ever had to make

masterlist series masterlist

taglist: @maraschinomerry @sstrawberriel @poisonquinzell @holymotherfxrkingshirtballs @the-high-lady-of-3am-crackposts @oblivious-idiot @bobbys-not-that-small @myownpainintheass @taygrls @marinalor @y0urm0m12 @fearlessmoony @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @quack-quack-snacks @ahead-fullofdreams @aphroqite (if you wanna be added or removed, just tell me)

For a while, you continued like this - Emily and George reading and taking notes, you fighting your way through the text in front of you without much success.

"Have you found anything interesting?"

You jumped at the question that broke the silence so suddenly, realising that Emily was talking to you and not George. You glanced over at her before you quickly averted your eyes again.

"Not really", you mumbled, and you could feel your skin prickle from the embarrassment of having her call you out like that. In front of George, of all people.

You jumped again as you felt her hand coming to rest on your arm.

"Are you okay? You look a little pale."

You tensed. Was she making fun of you? But her smile and the concern in her eyes seemed genuine.

"I'm fine", you said, but the slight shaking in your voice proved otherwise.

She got up, her chair scraping loudly over the floor.

"Come with me, I'll get you something to drink."

You looked over to George, who nodded encouragingly before he returned his focus to his book.

A glass of water did sound good, and it would be a chance to get out of the small corner of the library that had started to feel suffocating.

You followed Emily back to her desk in the front, where she rummaged through a little cabinet under the table and pulled out a bottle of water and a cup.

She handed you the filled cup and turned around to open the window, letting in some fresh air.

"How is it, being an agent?", she asked while you sipped on your water.

"It's … I don't know." You stared down into your cup, thinking about all the near-death experiences you had in your time as an agent. "It can be scary, and dangerous. But the people you work with make it better."

She chuckled. "That's true, coworkers can make or break it. Honestly, I don't know how you do it, I could never handle working with my boyfriend every single day. I'd be scared we'd get sick of each other eventually."

She must have noticed your furrowed brows and confused expression.

"George?", she added. "Isn't he your boyfriend?"

You could tell immediately that your face was in the process of taking on the colour of her bright red sweater.

"George? No! Why would you think that?", you croaked out, trying to keep your composure. What was she on about?

Emily laughed brightly. "I just thought I picked up on some vibes between you two." Her eyes sparkled as she leaned closer to you, and for a moment she reminded you of Lucy. "But you know, never say never."

You choked on your sip of water and had to put the cup down before you spilt it all over the floor. She winked at you and made her way back into the other room, while you had to take a few seconds to recuperate.

You smoothed down your shirt and cleared your throat before you followed her. Had you interpreted it all wrong? Just a few minutes ago you could have sworn she was flirting with George. And who could blame her? You'd do the same if he hadn't made it clear to you several times that he wasn't interested.

As pathetic as it was, you felt relieved that this gorgeous girl didn't seem to be interested in your best friend. But when you turned the corner to where you'd been reading, the sight of them sitting next to each other still made your stomach turn. After all, just because she wasn't interested in him, didn't mean he wasn't interested in her.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

It was mid-afternoon when you left to catch the train back. You had been somewhat successful and George had a few pages of notes - that truthfully, you didn't contribute much to.

Your head was a jumbled mess, and you felt an intense need to be alone for a while, just to sort out your thoughts. Too much had happened in the last few days, and at this point, you didn't know what to think anymore.

No words were exchanged between you and George, not on the walk to the train, not during the train ride. When you walked back through the fields to the manor, you let yourself fall back. George didn't seem to mind, he was clutching his notes and you knew his mind was probably far away, thinking over everything you had found out so far.

The sun warmed your skin, and you closed your eyes, soaking it in for a moment. The thoughts in your head were quieting down as you filled your lungs with fresh air, and you tried your best to push them into a far corner of your mind. As soon as you were back in London, you would have a chance to think everything over properly. Maybe you had to go through with it, even though your heart hurt just thinking about it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Just a few hours later, you were walking up the driveway. The manor towered at its end, backlit by the light from the setting sun which made it look far more threatening than in the afternoon. The sound of your rapier hilts clinging against the metal of the belts slung over your torsos accompanied the crunch of the gravel under your boots. Other than that, an eery silence had taken over the scenery. The few birds that you had heard chirping during the day were quiet now, and the slight breeze that had ruffled the bushes flanking the walkway had died down completely.

You felt only marginally better prepared than yesterday. Over some sandwiches that Lucy and Lockwood had brought, you had talked through your findings of the day. It seemed as if everyone Lucy and Lockwood had talked to in their - rather mediocre - getup as tourists had roughly the same opinions - the Blackwoods were a family that highly valued their privacy and lived secluded in their manor, with no real association to anyone else. There were rumours that the son's attendance at the boarding school wasn't entirely of his own accord, and talks about how Blackwood's daughter - Genevieve - was rejecting any and all advances and wasn't planning on getting married anytime soon. Not that there was anything wrong with that, you thought, but it seemed to be a big topic of discussion in these circles. As for George and you, your findings largely matched those of Lockwood and Lucy. There hadn't been much that hadn't already been available in the archives in London, and so you stepped into this case more or less still clueless about what the origin of the haunting could be.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You were greeted by the butler at the front door.

"Miss Blackwood is waiting for you", was all he said, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Lockwood looking at him weirdly. Like he had just realised something.

You didn't get to ponder too long over that though, as the butler led you into the dining room where you had had dinner just last evening. Genevieve Blackwood stood with her back to you but turned around as you entered.

Her face lit up with a smile, that for some reason had your stomach churning. Something about her…

She walked over to you, heels loud on the hardwood floor beneath her long black dress.

"I'm so glad you're finally here", she said brightly, then furrowed her brows. "Unfortunately, my father is still in a state that doesn't allow him to speak to you. We have decided to still go through with it to not take up more of your precious time."

Lockwood adjusted his rapier. "We appreciate -"

The sound of a door opening behind you interrupted him. You turned around, and in the doorframe stood an elderly woman in a bathrobe. Her hands were shaking slightly, and she looked a little dazed.

"Genevieve, darling", she said, voice quiet and breathy. "Where is he? You promised me -"

"Not now", Genevieve hissed, and you felt a shiver run down your back at the venom in her voice. "Can't you see that now is not the time?" She looked over to the butler, who gave her a curt nod and grabbed the woman by the arm. He led her out of the room, ignoring her protest, and for a moment, the sound of the door falling shut behind them was the only sound in the room.

You exchanged a look with George, who stood next to you. Genevieve Blackwood cleared her throat. She looked paler than before. "You must excuse her. She doesn't know what is going on around her. Now, the sun is setting, and we better get this over with quickly."

She led you through more corridors until she reached a large double door at the end of a hallway, that was ornately decorated with flowers and vines carved into the wood, along with iron moulded to fit some of the flowers.

"Behind that door is the wing of the house that is affected by the haunting. This door keeps it from spreading to the rest of the house, which is why we are still living here. I trust you to handle it from here."

She nodded and then walked away swiftly. Lockwood looked after her before he turned to you. "Are you ready?"

With affirmation from all of you, he slowly pushed down the handle. The door opened smoothly and swung open into the dark hallway that lay beyond. It was dimly lit from the last daylight coming through the windows that lined the wall. It didn't look too different from the other hallways you had walked through so far, with the exception that in this one, big oil paintings hung on the wall, showing portraits of the family members.

Lockwood was the first to enter. You followed him and when you crossed over the threshold, it was like stepping outside on a cold winter day. You pulled the sleeves of your jumper down so that they covered part of your hands, then reached for your flashlight.

Without much talking, you dispersed. Lucy moved down the hallway, the end of which lay in complete darkness. She kept her hands on the wall, and her eyes closed, full focus on any supernatural echoes and sounds. Lockwood trailed behind her, keeping an eye on her, ready to step in if anything were to go wrong. George had immediately started taking the temperature at different points of the hallway and scribbled down the readings in his small, tattered notebook.

You on the other hand had turned on your flashlight, moving the beam of light slowly over the walls. The paintings were shiny in the light, the shadows cast by the slight movements of your hand making them look almost alive. You stepped closer to inspect the little plaque that was hammered into the ornate wooden frame. Agatha Blackwood was engraved there, along with a birth year that indicated the woman on the portrait to be in her mid-seventies now. You pointed the flashlight back up and took a closer look at her face.

"That's Lord Blackwood's sister. The woman we saw earlier."

You almost dropped your flashlight as George's voice suddenly sounded so close to your ear. He had appeared behind you, looking over your shoulder at the painting.

"Don't sneak up on me like that in the dark", you hissed, trying to gather yourself.

He chuckled. "Maybe you just need to pay more attention to your surroundings. I could have been a ghost after all."

You huffed. "Pull something like that again and you might end up as one."

You made your way over to the next painting and missed the way his lips curled into a fond smile before he followed you.

You came to a halt in front of a portrait of a man that you identified as Lord Blackwood before you even read the name plaque. He looked exactly how you imagined him, but there was something about him that you didn't like. Maybe his piercing blue eyes, that felt like they were staring right into your soul. You turned to George. "Do you -" Your voice got stuck in your throat as you saw his expression. He was staring up at the portrait with wide, glossy eyes, lips slightly parted. "George?" No reaction. You nudged him once, twice, this time harder. With a gasp, he stumbled a little, breaking eye contact with the painting.

"George?" He looked at you, the far-away look he had just seconds ago was gone.

"Yeah?"

"Are you… okay?"

He adjusted his glasses. "Yes. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

You hesitated. You didn't want to bring up what his reaction had reminded you of, because you knew he didn't like to talk about it. But that look in his eyes… you felt a wave of dread wash over you at the thought of the boneglass and its effects, especially on George. It hadn't been that long, and none of you knew exactly how much it had really affected him.

"No reason", you finally said, deciding to just keep an eye out for George. Not like that wasn't what you were doing at all times anyway.

You stepped closer, trying to ignore the way the hairs on your arm stood up. You aimed the flashlight at the lower part of the painting.

The Lord was a few years older than his sister, you noted.

Without thinking about it, almost involuntarily, you reached out for the frame but immediately flinched away again as your fingers brushed over it. It was ice cold.

"George", you said quietly. He had gone off to take more temperature readings. Within seconds, he was by your side again. "What is it?"

"What's the temperature here?"

He looked down at the thermometer and pressed a few buttons.

"6°C", he said slowly. "That's much colder than anywhere else." He reached out for the frame just like you did, and just like you he pulled his hand away quickly.

"That's… interesting." You could practically see him thinking.

"Check the other paintings, I'll get Lockwood and Lucy. We might be onto something here."

You nodded and he hurried down the hallway. It was completely dark now, and with a last look at Lord Blackwood, you made your way back to Agatha Blackwood's portrait. A shiver ran down your spine, and if you didn't know any better, you could have sworn you felt his eyes burn into the back of your head as you walked away.

Every portrait you checked was the same - cold, but not overly so. So when you gathered back in front of Lord Blackwood, you all knew that this was it.

"Why his portrait though?" Lucy asked. She had her hand firmly pressed against it and her eyes closed.

"I'm getting nothing from it. It's just really cold."

Lockwood aimed his flashlight up.

"I might have an idea", he slowly said. "But I'm not sure yet. What's behind this wall?"

George pointed over to a door a few feet down the corridor.

"Let's try this door."

It opened easily and led to a study. A large desk stood facing the door, and tall shelves filled to the brim with books were lining the walls.

The glow of your flashlights had a hard time penetrating the darkness that somehow felt heavier than outside. Dust particles danced in the air, and Lockwood, who was last, secured the door - your way out, should things go south. Then he went to get the two bags of equipment you had brought but had left standing at the double door, while you and Lucy started to thoroughly check the room.

It was immediately clear that you were in the right place. The temperature had dropped noticeably, so much so that you were slightly shivering now, despite your warm sweater. You were feeling along the wall right next to the door, at whose other side lay the hallway. The textured wallpaper felt rough under your fingertips, and there was a constant, static noise that felt far away and unnervingly close at the same time. You moved slowly, mentally preparing for any flashback or rush of emotion that might be waiting for you after the next step, but nothing happened. The wall just felt progressively older, and you knew you must be getting closer to the spot where the portrait was attached to the other side of the wall.

Then suddenly, you had reached the corner. Or rather, a heavy, velvet curtain that was draped over what should be the wall. With a little difficulty, you pulled it aside to reveal another wooden door. Without thinking, you pushed down the handle. The door creaked open, and you raised your flashlight, the other hand on the hilt of your rapier as you kicked it open further. It seemed to be an extension of the study, with the same towering bookshelves, and another two desks, slightly smaller than the one in the room behind your back.

You stepped into the room, flashlight raised and your other hand resting on the hilt of your rapier. In the warm glow of the flashlight, the room looked almost inviting - but it didn't feel like it. Immediately upon entering, you could feel your skin prickling. The static noise had slowly increased in volume, and you could feel the beginning of a slight headache forming behind your temples.

You hesitated. Maybe you shouldn't be in here alone. Just at that moment, Lockwood called for you. You took a few tentative steps backwards until you felt safe to turn around. Lucy was in the opposite corner, still feeling around the books, while George was laying out an iron circle.

"What's behind that door, (name)?", Lockwood asked.

"Two desks and more books. It seems like it's just a connection between those two rooms."

Lockwood thought for a moment.

"Alright, then we'll split up. Lucy and I will stay here. George and (name), you take the other room. Put a chair and some iron at the door so that it won't close."

You tried to keep a neutral expression, but on the inside, you were screaming. Of course, you'd split up. Of course, Lockwood had you and George working together. You wondered if Lucy realised just how protective he was over her. How he'd never leave her alone in the presence of a ghost if he didn't have to. You're chest tightened. It must be nice to have someone care about you that much.

George grabbed the second bag, and the two of you moved over into the other room. With two flashlights, the space was considerably better-lit, and you took a while to slowly walk around and take everything in.

Your flashlight wandered over a row of books, and you tilted your head to read the titles. "What do you think the source is?", you asked eventually, just to break the silence. Surely, George already had several different theories, and it was unusual that he hadn't yet shared them with you.

He took a while to reply, and when he did his voice sounded shaky.

"I'm not sure."

You furrowed your brows and turned around. He stood with his back to you in front of one of the bookshelves.

"George?"

You expected him to turn to you, but he didn't. He didn't move at all, the hand holding his flashlight hanging limply by his side.

Anxiety was twisting your insides as you rushed over to him, hand on his shoulder to turn him around. He blinked and scrunched his eyes together as you shone the light in his face.

"George, what is going on?", you asked, hating the way your worry for him was so clearly audible in your voice.

He put his hand on yours and pushed down the flashlight.

"Stop that, you're gonna make me blinder than I already am. I told you, I'm fine. Just feeling a little tired, that's all."

You did not believe him.

"Something is wrong with you!"

He laughed dryly. "There are a lot of things wrong with me. And maybe I'm feeling a little out of it today, who cares?"

You wanted to shake him, scream in his face that you cared, you cared so much, and that he was putting himself in danger because something was clearly not right. Maybe the aftereffects of the boneglass were still lingering, and he just didn't want to admit that.

You took a step back from him, feeling defeated.

"I'm gonna go set up an iron circle."

While you went to gather the chains, George began pulling open the drawers in the cabinet under one of the desks. You didn't get very far with opening the bag and kneeled to take a closer look at the zipper, that seemed to be stuck. Behind you, you heard paper rustling and George muttering under his breath.

"(name)?" George's voice was quiet, maybe a little unsure.

"Mhm?" You leaned further down, moving the zipper back and forth, trying to get it loose while you waited for him to continue.

He mumbled something you didn't quite catch, and you were about to ask him to speak up, but his next words left you frozen in place.

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, just the way I always dreamed about and wished for. I love you more than you could ever know."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

thank you for reading :)

#george karim x reader #george karim #lockwood and co #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood & co #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood and co x you #lockwood & co x you

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notebooknonbinary · 1 year

Text

Byler Week, Day 6: Pre-Volume 2 Vibes

He eyes the two sketches. They both would be a bit like putting his heart on the canvas. But which one would be more damning?

And which one would make Mike the happiest to get?

…

Still undecided, he pads out into the living room. Thankfully, Mom is between calls. She looks up and gives him a weary smile.

Evens, the DnD picture, odds, the swingset. “Hey, can you pick a number between one and ten?

“Hmmm, seven.”

“Okay…Thank you…”

Will goes back to his room, closes the door, and forces down the roiling anxiety making his throat tight. Swingset painting it is, then.

Mechanically, he finishes setting out his painting supplies. He sets the drawing in easy view of the easel.

If the painting is too much…If he finishes painting out this pivottable moment from their childhood (“It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”), and the love he has for Mike comes across too clearly…Well, he can just give Mike the drawing of the DnD scene. It’s a good drawing anyway. One he’ll probably want to paint out at some point anyway.

He takes a few deep breaths, and focuses on the canvas.

Will hates to see Mike so down on himself.

Perhaps it’s not the best time. Maybe he should be a good friend and brother, focusing on trying to fix whatever it is that’s broken Mike and El apart so badly. But Will’s heart is hurting that Mike is hurting and he just wants to see him smile.

“Can I show you something?”

Heart in his throat, he hands the painting over. Jonathan and Argyle in the front of the van seem miles away. All Will can focus on is Mike’s face, as he unrolls the painting.

And…

A smile spreads across Mike’s face, and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world to Will.

Mike looks up to beam at him.

“This is amazing,” he says genuinely. “Did you paint this?”

“Yeah…I…I mean…” Will looks away, feeling flustered at the genuine awe and happiness that’s taken over Mike’s face. He picks at a loose thread on his pants.

“These past few months, I’ve been so…lost without you.” He curls his fingers into the fists. “It’s just…I’m so different from other people.” His eyes suddenly burn from the tears he’s been swallowing back all week. “And when you’re…different, sometimes you can feel like a mistake.” He forces himself to face Mike, needing him to understand. “But you don’t make me feel like a mistake. You make me feel like being different is good. I think I’ve been kind of mean and distant lately, but that’s just because I’m so scared of losing you.” He bites his lip, feeling like maybe he’s said a bit too much. He refocuses on the painting.

“A couple years ago you said…asking to be my friend was the best thing you’ve ever done…” Will swallows and looks up, watches Mike’s face go pink. His eyes are wide and almost sparkling. Pretty. It gives Will the courage to finish speaking. “Well, I guess this was me saying that telling you yes was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Mike tears up, and it’s so sudden and startling (Mike hardly ever cries), that Will feels himself tearing up again in response.

And then Mike grabs him into a hug, tight and warm and oh so familiar. “Thank you Will. This is the best thing I’ve ever gotten.”

For a moment they sit, hugging and crying a little, and for the first time all week things feel brighter.

“I tried to call,” Mike mumbles into Will’s shoulder. “But the line was always blocked with your Mom’s job. I’ve been scared of losing you too, because it keeps happening.”

Oh.

Part of Will immediately wants to burst out into apologies, allow the nudging guilt at the back of his brain to take the forefront. But that can wait until later.

Right now, Will just wants to hug his best friend. Everything else fades into the background. This moment is theirs.

In the front of the van, unheard by the younger teens, Argyle whispers. “Dude, was that a confession? Does baby bro have a boyfriend now?”

Jonathan nudges him. “If they are, they’ll say so when they’re ready.” He bites his lip. Either way, I should make sure Will knows I’m here for him.

#bylerweek2023 #Day 6: Pre-Volume 2 #byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #I love being cliche:D and bro all y’all who have drawn or painted that DnD scene I am So impressed by you bc that shit was Difficult—#—and that’s w/o me putting any details in.#any dialogue you recognize is from the show #this is the ‘comic’ I was talking about when I was like I drew Will and Mike in completely different styles lmao

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xxstorywriterxx · 10 months

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Your local barista / Part 3

Larissa Weems x fem reader fanfiction

You´re a barista working at Weathervane. A tall blonde, beautiful woman comes in from time to time to get a coffee and talk to you. She seems nice at first but after a while you find yourself wondering if you could become more than friends?

Thank you so much for your support! I´ll try to post updates every week!

Link to the following chapter is at the bottom.

Warnings: a little spice, nothing physical, mainly fluff

'Good morning!' 'Oh, good morning to you too. You´re already awake?' 'Ugh, yes. Again a long night. Can I get a coffee? And a chat with a nice barista?' 'Of course. Like everyday. I´m at work already.' 'Sounds wonderful. I´m on my way. Looking forward to seeing you! xx' 'Me too! Drive safe!'

Your heart was racing in excitement. Since Larissa drove you home two days ago all you could think about was her. The way she talked, the way she dressed but especially her smell. God, she smelled so good. And, of course, the way her skin felt on yours. When she touched your hand with her fingers... so soft and gentle. A shiver ran down your spine and you felt the back of your hand tickle. The same spot she touched.

The coffee machine was running, everything was clean and you sat down at a small table in the middle of the cafe, trying to control your feelings. Something changed that day. You both knew but you didn´t talk about it. When Larissa came around you both felt more... relaxed. So calm but nervous at the same time. Only seeing her in the mornings used to be your highlight but now you also feared those moments. Because now you would get sad as soon as she left and you were only able to focus on the next day, on which you would finally see her again. But texting helped. When you got home after the car ride you texted her. And ever since you both tried to text each other as often as you could. Isaac was already annoyed and called you 'love birds' which made you furious. Because 1 nothing serious has happened between the two of you and 2 you haven´t talked about what has happened in the car. Especially the last minutes before you got out. The moment you felt like you would kiss...

"Y/n! Oh, I´m so happy to finally see you, Darling!" Larissa came into the cafe with a big and excited smile. "Finally? We saw each other yesterday, remember?" You chuckled. You tried to seem cool but of course you felt the same way Larissa did. "I know, I know. But it never seems to be enough time we get to spend together, does it?" She sat down in the chair in front of you. "It really doesn´t." You looked at each other, smiling. You smelled her scent. Bloomy, yet fresh with a hint of vanilla. You felt your heart racing. What would it be like to lay in her arms? Being able to take in even more of her scent? You tried to block these thoughts for now. "Want a coffee?" you asked with a grin and winked at her. "Oh, I would die for one of those right now!" "You don´t have to. I can just get you one. Besides," you got up from the table and stood behind the counter "loosing you would really ruin my day. And I´ll have an online exam later. I can´t afford that right know." You said it with a dramatic look on your face. Larissa just stared at you for a few seconds. Then, all of the sudden, she burst out into laughter. You´ve heard Larissa laugh many times before. But she´s never laughed this much and this loud. She had tears running down her cheeks, which were red and hot. God, you admired her so much. You tried to look at her as long as possible. You tried to block out any noise exept for her wonderful voice. You wanted to remember this exact moment forever. Every detail was perfect. The soft morning light on her pale skin. Her sparkling eyes. Her perfect bright teeth. The way she threw her head back while laughing. Just everything. Larissa breathed heavily and tried to control herself. After a couple of seconds she stopped laughing and smiled at you. "Noted. I will not leave earth until you give me permisson." She winked at you. "Great. But that means 'never'. Be careful with the words you use." You had a cheekish smile on your lips as you placed a hot coffee in front of Larissa. "Should I be?" She asked with a devilish grin. "What could happen if I don´t want to be careful?" She teased you. God, you loved it. And she could tell. You felt your cheeks getting red. All of the sudden you felt extremely hot. "You, as a principal, should know that consequences will follow in case someone crosses lines." You teased her back. You didn´t want to give in. And you could tell she loved it too. Her eyes widened a bit and you could see a fire burning in them. “Mmh, tell me more about those ‘consequences’, Darling!” You sat back down in your chair. You and Larissa were now staring at each other across the little table. She placed her elbow on the tabletop and rested her chin in her hand. Your eyes were now on the same level. She had a dark, seductive look on her face. Beneath the table you feet touched. You were rubbing them against each other very gentle. You barley breathed. You were so nervous but self confident at the same time. You could tell she was attracted to you. Just like you were to her. “Tell me.” She whispered as she leaned over to you a little more. "Tell you? And giving up the little amout of mysteriousness I have? Never." Your voice was low and raspy. You leaned over to Larissa, you had to get on your tiptoes to reach over the table, and placed your lips very close to her left ear. You breathed in her scent and it caused your hands to shake. Larissa´s face was pale and hot, you could feel her warmth against your skin. "If you want to know, you will have to find out yourself. Try me, Larissa Weems." She sucked in a sharp breath. Just as you wanted to get back on your chair, Larissa grabbed your left shoulder and moved you closer to her. "Trust me. I will, y/n." Her breath was shaky but apart from that she seemed to have a clear mind. She was determined to show you, that she was in control. She was the dominent one. For now at least.

She let go of your arm and you got back to your seat very slowly, keeping eye-contact with the blonde goddess. You both had slight reddish cheeks and devilish grins on your faces. As you sat down, your feet touched again. It was gentle and peaceful. You still looked at each other for a few seconds. Then Larissa grabbed her coffee, which you both completly forgot about, and you watched a few people walking past the window of the cafe. "Y/n, I was wondering..." You turned your head back at Larissa who still held her coffee mug in her hand. As she met your eyes she took a deep breath and asked "What are your plans for tomorrow evening? Since it´s a Friday I thought that maybe we could... meet up?" She sligthly tilted her head and hid her face behind the mug, though you could still see her blush. Your heart jumped in your chest, it almost hurt. A big smile lit up your face. Larissa wanted to be with you. Not just on a car ride. Not at work. She wanted to hang out with you on a Friday night. You couldn´t believe how lucky you were. "Yes. Yes, I would love to!" Larissa finally put down her mug and smiled at you. Her red lipstick made her smile seem even more lovely. "Ok, great. I thought that we could go to a restaurant maybe? There is a nice Italian restaurant not far from here." It was a great suggestion but you had a better idea. "Sounds lovely. But I was thinking, how about you come to my place tomorrow? I could cook a nice meal and buy some snacks. We could be more spontanious about what to do. Just have dinner or watch a movie. Whatever you want. I mean, if you´re ok with that of course!" Larissa seemed suprised about your idea. She quickly thought about it, then nodded. "If it´s not too much work for you... yes, I would love that, Darling." She smiled her most irresistible smile. Good thing you already sat down, otherwise you felt like your knees would simply give up. "Then it´s setteled. Tomorrow at 6:30 if you´re ok with that?" "I am more than 'ok' with it, Love." She reached over to you and softly stroke the hand you had placed on the tabletop. It was electrifying. Larissa glanced down at her phone that was laying next to her. Then she opened her mouth in suprise, jumped up and grabbed her coat and bag. "I´m fifteen minutes late! I have to get back to Nevermore!" She ran towards the door but stopped just before she opened it. She turned around to face you and saw you silently laughing. She chuckled and blew you an air-kiss. "I really can´t wait to see you tomorrow, Darling." "Me neither." You smiled and waved at her, then she opened the door and rushed out of the cafe. You continued sitting at the table for a minute. Then you got up and cleaned the coffee mug with the beautiflu red liptick stains.

It was unusally busy at the Weathervane, so you were only able to check your phone when you got home in the evening. You had already bought ingredients for a Lasagne you wanted to cook for Larissa and you the next day. You checked your inbox. You´ve had 10 unread messages, two from Isaac, 3 from other friends and 5 from Larissa. You opened Larissas chat first.

'I was way too late for work today. I really need to work on my time-management. But it was absolutley worth it.'

'Talking to you is such a pleasure. I really enjoy your company.'

'I hope you have a great day left, Darling'

'Do you like redwine? I could get some for tomorrow night'

'Ugh, I´ll just bring two bottles'

You smiled as you read the messages. You quickly replied.

'I´m glad it was worth it haha. But I must admit, I don´t feel bad for you being late at all ;)'

'Sure. Redwine sounds good to me! And my day was fine but the best part was BY FAR my morning! Hopefully you had a great day as well?'

Then you went on to text Isaac. You ignored the memes he had sent you throughout the day and texted:

'Isaac. I need your help. It´s important. I need an outfit-check'

'Outfit-check? How come?'

'Larissa will come to mine tomorrow night and I need to look good. Please, HELP' 'Sure thing. I´ll get to you asap'

You put down your phone and looked outside your bedroom window. Your life has changed a lot in the last couple of days. You couldn´t believe how lucky you were. You closed your eyes and saw Larissa´s perfect face right in front of you. No view outside a window could ever be better than this.

#larissa weems fanfic #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa weems #larissa x you #lesbian #wednesday #fanfic #larissa x y/n #larissa weems x reader #sapphic #yourlocalbaristafanfic

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drama--universe · 1 year

Text

I'll give a hand

Requested by anonymous: Hello! I see you write for 'The Untamed'! I just started watching it recently, but I'm already in love with the serials! Can I have a request for Lan Zhan? I see that no one has asked for Lan Zhan yet (I think separately): Where the reader (female) is a new student in the Lan clan, she is very smart, kind and helpful, but people avoid her because she is mute. And one day several students break the rule of the Lan clan and start making fun of her...Lan Zhan intervenes, but as soon as she turns to the reader, the reader is long gone, she runs to her room. Lan Zhan came to check on her and found her sitting in the fetal position and crying (she is sensitive when someone makes fun of her for not being able to speak). Lan Zhan knew she was crying, he didn't hear her sob but he could tell by the movement of her shoulders. It's true that Lan Zhan isn't very good at dealing with emotions, but he still tries to help her...

Pairing: Lan Zhan x fem!reader (platonically)

Word Count: 1.6k words

Warnings: bullying, anxiety attack (personal experience, so might not be too accurate for others)

Following Xichen, you couldn't help but stare at your surroundings. The building was beautiful and the surrounding forest was even prettier. You couldn't wait to go and explore everything once you had the chance, but you probably had to wait until you had some free time. Xichen was kind enough to explain your new lifestyle, classes during the day and a curfew at night.

No room to explore, but maybe later.

"This is where you will follow your lessons. After your lessons today, I will bring you to your room. Does that sound good to you?" Xichen nodded and you were quick to nod, trying not to smile too brightly. You didn't have too though, because Xichen could see the sparkle in your eyes and that said plenty. So he led you inside, letting you sit at a table in the back before making his way to the man that sat in the front. They talked for a few seconds before Xichen left again, leaving you in the room with the other students. Some glanced your way, but none of them said something as the lesson started. You paid close attention to the man in front as he started explaining certain things, but you also tried to focus on what the other students said when asked something. It was only two hours, but it felt like two minutes to you. After the man had left, other students approached you and started asking questions left and right. You tried to hear all of them, but it was too much at once and you were starting to get overwhelmed. They noticed and calmed down, asking one question at a time while waiting for your answer.

Your brush flew over the paper as you tried to answer quickly, something that seemed to fascinate the others a bit.

"Are you mute?" One boy asked and your brush slowed down before stopping completely. You looked up before nodding softly, which created an awkward silence around you. They started leaving one by one and soon enough you were alone again.

Your reflection stared back at you, but you didn't recognize yourself in the slightest. Your eyes were red from crying, your hair was a mess from tossing and turning in your bed, and you could see some marks on your arms from digging your nails in. In short, you looked like a mess and all because you cried all evening long. Just because you were lonely, something you never had a problem with and yet now it was the worst thing in the world. It was not the loneliness per se, but rather the fact that everyone avoided you without even trying to hide it. You felt miserable, people avoided you because of something that you were simply born with. You wished you could, every single day you wished and it changed nothing in the end. You'd never be able to say that you loved someone, no matter how hard you tried.

Washing your face with some water, staring back into mirror before grabbing some make-up to cover the redness around your eyes. Then you made your way out, raking your fingers through your hair to tidy it up enough so that you wouldn't be punished. Your outfit looked fine enough, so you only brushed over it with your hands once before ignoring it. No one would notice that you hadn't changed in the last two days, most of your outfits were the same anyway and you honestly couldn't care less at the moment.

"Hey, mute!" A voice rang out, not too loud to catch anyone else's attention. Some people came closer to you, making your anxiety spike up and you flinched as an arm was thrown around your shoulders.

"Still not going to say anything?" One asked and you flinched again as one of them tapped your face a bit too harsh for your liking. Some cackled at you, voices starting to blend as they mocked you. Tears started welling up in your eyes with every word or hit and soon enough, tears started streaming down your face.

"Oh, are you sad? Can't bear the truth, little mute-" The one who spoke was interrupted, gasping softly as he felt the metal of a sword pressed against his neck. All of them dispersed slightly, staring at your rescue in shock.

"Your breaking the rules." He spoke and you could recognize his voice as Lan Zhan's, shocked that the man would even speak up for you. Then again, you doubted that it was for you and rather for the fact that they were being a nuisance. The arm around your shoulder was removed, making your body relax a bit as you stepped away from your bullies.

"Bullying and shouting is forbidden here, so-" You didn't wait for Lan Zhan to finish his sentence as you slowly backed away from everyone while the attention wasn't on you, but soon enough you were sprinting back to your room. Your body was shaking, shivers running up and down your spine as you tried to calm yourself down again. Just like last night, it didn't work as your breaths started to grown shorter and shorter. Your vision started to blur from the tears in your eyes, rolling down your face like waterfalls. You let yourself crash to the ground, ignoring the pain that shot through your legs as you curled up into a ball. Your sobs didn't stop, your whole body still trembling as you tried to calm down the anxiety in your body.

Someone entered, but you couldn't focus on trying to see who it was. They kneeled besides you and a hand laid on your head, softly stroking your hair as they told you too breath slowly. Unfortunately for you, you couldn't calm down until you fainted from exhaustion.

Eyes opening, you tried to ignore how your body felt as you sat up. Taking in your surroundings, you spotted Lan Zhan not far from you. His eyes were on you and even though he never showed much emotion, you could see that he was slightly uncomfortable. You couldn't blame him, after all he was in a girl's room for what you guessed had been a few hours.

"Are you feeling better now?" He asked and you nodded at him slowly, trying to not focus on the pain in your throat that you gained from crying. He nodded as well before standing up, walking your way before sitting down again. His hand went to your forehead and you flinched, which was clearly visible and Lan Zhan paused his movement. His hand remained in place as he waited for you to relax again, placing his hand on your forehead when you did.

"Your temperature is back to normal it seems." He dropped his hand again, but he didn't move from the bed. You waited for him to say something, anything but it never came. You just sat in silence for awhile, trying to ignore the thoughts that swarmed around in your head. Swallowing softly, you winced at how painful your throat felt. Almost like sandpaper that was being dragged through the inside of your throat.

"Ignore those people, listening to them won't change anything." Lan Zhan spoke and you almost wanted to scoff. It was easier said than done, how could you accept something that was clearly a flaw. People didn't need to say something for you to know what they thought, either it was annoyance or pity and you disliked both. But somehow, it didn't feel like that with Lan Zhan's gaze.

When he looked your way, it was usually the same gaze as he gave others. Not a lot of emotions or care about you, but you definitely preferred it over the looks of pity.

Shaking your head, you quickly looked around for some paper and pen. Unfortunately, there was none that was near you and you had a feeling that you could get up just yet. You looked at Lan Zhan again before awkwardly grabbing his hand, tracing letters on his palm with your finger and hoping he would understand.

"I will get you some tea, please wait here." And after that, he was off and you were left alone again. You gently threw your blanket to the side, throwing your legs off the side of the bed before pushing yourself up. Although your legs were weak, you could stand without any problem. You went to your desk, grabbing your paper and a pen.

"I thought I asked you to wait." Lan Zhan said and you nearly jumped out of your skin, surprised at how quiet the man was. The tea was put on the table as Lan Zhan made his way back to you before guiding you back to your bed. You wanted to write down why you moved, but Lan Zhan held his hand out again.

"Don't waist paper and ink." He said and you looked at him before laying down the pen and tracing letters on his hand again. He waited carefully until you finished your sentence, staying silent even when you paused to think of which letters to use. When you finished asking what had exactly happened after you passed out, Lan Zhan turned to you fully.

"You have been asleep for a couple of hours. Xichen-ge knows about this already, you're excused from the lessons tomorrow as well." Lan Zhan explained and you pouted, grabbing his hand again to write that you wanted to follow the lessons. Seeing how eager you were to learn, Lan Zhan could only approve before getting up.

Ever since then, Lan Zhan would always reach out his hand to you so you could speak.

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thecallthatchangemydestiny · 8 months

Text

DOMINIC LUCA ONE-SHOT

-I don’t think this is a good idea- said Jessica Cortez to her friend

-it’s our only chance- said Maya - plus… I like dancing- Jessica sighted, indeed it was the only way to take down the Russian gang down. The plan was simple, Maya going to the strip club, making the boss ask for a private dance and making him talk.

-Okay, you’re going tomorrow-

-everything is going to be fine- said Maya with a big smile-well I’m going to set everything, see you tomorrow- Maya leave the place while Jessica called her SWAT team.

-Hondo, Luca you’re staying with her as the “bodyguards” if she says bring me the wine is the safe word to attack.-Luca an Hondo hesitated, Maya has never been in action before so they feel nervous about this whole operation. -Deac, Tan, Chris and Street are going to stay outside waiting for your signal to enter Hondo.-

-Okay, let’s get ready- said Hondo watching Luca, and everybody left the room.

•The next day•

-I’m ready- said Maya entering the room with a beautiful (and short) gold dress, her beautiful long hair was loose and her makeup was just sparkling… all of her looked like gold. All the eyes where on her but she didn’t even notice, all her focus was on the operation.

-Okay remember Maya- said Hondo in his bodyguard disguise -you’re Ramona, the star of the strip club and you hire Rooster and Gene as your bodyguards- Maya said yes with your head, she notice how Luca was silent looking at her, he seemed nervous but she couldn’t get why, he was always excited and ready for a mission.

-Yes Gene, don’t worry- Maya winked her eye at both of them- let’s get going, my show is about to start!-

-I’ll be fine- said maya behind the stage with her mic on so Luca and Hondo could hear-I got you guys taking care of me, nothing could go wrong.- with that said Luca smiled.

-And now the star of our show…- began to said the owner of the club

-Okay he’s in the first row- began to said Luca to the mic -white as a ghost, red suit and the ugliest face I’ve ever seen- Maya laughed, she feel relived now that Luca was more calm.

-RAMONA- and with that said, Maya enter the stage dancing, she could feel the lust eyes of Sergej, the Russian, all over her body.

-Hey Luca, when I said eyes on her all the time I don’t meant like THAT- Hondo laughed while looking at Luca, who couldn’t care less about what Hondo was saying, he was only looking at her. But the ones out the strip waiting for Hondo signal where laughing imagining the scene.

-Excuse me, are you Ramona’s bodyguard?- said a guy approaching Luca, who returned to his reality

-Yes, me and my friend Gene over there- said Luca in a serious tone pointing at Hondo who was across the room.

-Good, my boss would like a private time with her- Luca had mixed feelings, happy because everything was going as planned but angry and nervous of that man being too close to Maya.

-Absolutely, do you have the money to pay her private time?

-Of course with do- said that man with a funny tone, making fun of that question.

-Come with us- said Luca and he took the man and Sergej to the room where Maya was.

-You’re absolutely beautiful- said Sergej with a really strong Russian accent and an evil smile -and you’re dance was spectacular!- Maya give a fake smile, but yet, a nice one so Sergej didn’t even notice it wasn’t sincere.

-thank you sir.- Maya begin to say with a flirty tone of voice -you’re too kind.- the Russian bodyguard was near Luca and Hondo who were in front of the door watching the whole interaction, but Luca was more focus on her.

-I want you to be my partner, my girlfriend- said the Russian man to her, she was surprised, she wasn’t expecting that preposition - You’re beautiful and I’m going to give you everything you want, you can leave thin place forever.- Luca and Hondo looked at Maya, who was analyzing what to say

-do you know how many man have told me that they’re going to take me out of here?- said Maya getting closer to Sergej -How can I know you’re telling the truth?-

-Tell your bodyguards to leave- said the Russian pointing Hondo and Luca -and I’ll tell you- Luca was worried, and very angry ¿why he wanted them to leave? ¿What if he does something to her?

-Fine- said Maya looking at Luca -but tell also your man to leave- and with that said, Sergej said something in Russian and his man got out the room. -Rooster, Gene- continue Maya -please also leave- Hondo leave but Luca stay a little bit longer, looking at her, promising to himself to always take care of her. And just then, he left the room.-

A few minutes had passed but from outside the room nothing could be heard.

-stop going around so many times, you’re going to make me dizzy- said Hondo looking how Luca was nervously going around

-Sorry man, I’m just nervous- said Luca standing in front of him -I don’t like the silence-

-I know, but everything is going fine, so don’t worry- Luca smiled a little bit

-Rooster, Gene- shouted Maya -Can you bring the wine, please?- Luca and Hondo looked at each other, that was the sign.

-Bring the wine to the star- said Hondo to the mic, for Deac and the other squad to hear. -Let’s go- and with that said, Hondo run to room and shouted -LAPD EVERYBODY TO THE GROUND- the Russian man take out the gun and began to shoot Luca and Hondo, while Sergej punched Maya and took her pointing a gun to her head. Hondo took down the Russian, and Luca looked at Maya.

-Let her go- said Luca furious pointing with his gun at Sergej -NOW- Maya stomped her foot hard with her heel, making the other man shout with pain while Luca shoot him in the shoulder and taking Maya into his arms.

-Hey Rooster- said Maya getting closer to Luca, she was in the doctor the whole night because of the injuries Sergej left to Maya after the hit he gave her, Luca stayed at the hospital waiting for her.

-Hey! Maya- Luca hugged her, he was worried about her -how are you feeling?-

-better, we got him, that’s all that matters- and she have him a huge and beautiful smile.

-I was worried about you.-

-I know-

-how do you know that?- said Luca funny

-You’ve got your mic on this whole time- and then his smile disappeared, she could hear how he admitted to Chris and Street his mad crush on her, how Hondo make fun of him and how obvious he was… his whole face got red while Maya laughed with tenderness.

-Maya… I’m so sorry, I didn’t…- and than she interrupted him with a kiss.-

-I had a big mad crush on you too-

#swat 2017 #swat cbs #dominique luca #Dominic Luca #jim street #hondo harrelson #chris alonso #victor tan #one shot #kenny johnson #swat imagines #swat team

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thats-how-i-role · 5 months

Text

Secrets And Spies (1)

A/N: Okay so first, I am cheating. This isn't all of it but I still have like 2000 words to go and not a lot of time to do it. Second, this is a combined day for Tuesday and Wednesday so it features a lot of Jem, and a lot of Faye, and of course a lot of side characters

P.S. If you want to be added to the document lmk but I promise I will post the rest of the story before New Year's I'm just running out of time this week.

Word Count: 7,116

Friday September 14th, 20:34

The hunt. For many it’s about a calm before the storm, or the spike in adrenaline when you’re closing in on the prey. But tonight, their focus is on the subtleties of conversation. Finding the best opportunity when to strike without blowing their cover. If they falter the slightest, then law and order will never prevail.

Faint classical music echoes throughout the dining hall of highclass gentlemen. Conversations were being shared over the round tables, with red, floor length tablecloths. The room was bright from the high-priced chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, and the sconces scattered equidistantly across the walls. Many of the words exchanged are similar to the next. Either business arrangements or the latest gossip within their social circles, often interjected by the sound of glasses clinking together.

On the far right side of the room was the bar that stretched across most of the wall. Glasses and pricey alcohol bottles were hung on the wall behind the counter. The bartenders all shared the same black and white vest suit, and bow tie combinations. They talked up their clients as much as possible, praying the idle chit chat could get them a tip.

But there was one person that no one seemed to be able to break for more than a few words. A tall, lean person with a neatly styled, black undercut and fair skin. Underneath the carefully placed makeup were deep scars from the years they have spent in the agency. They dressed in a tailored, three piece suit with a silver tie, and nursed a glass of red wine.

The calmness and grace across their features contrasted to their racing heartbeat. The only reason they haven’t spoken much is because they feared their voice would waver before the mission even started. Every little thing had them on edge.

Maybe I should mingle?

If I leave the bar I may miss the target coming in.

What if I’ve already been made?

A voice coming in through their earpiece startled them out of their thoughts. “Jesus Christ J, you’ve somehow managed to look constipated and like you’ve shit yourself all at once.” Amalthea, the sometimes crass, always blunt, redhead heckled.

Jem took their glass and hovered it in front of their mouth, to block any onlookers from seeing them talk to themselves. “I cannot stress how much I didn’t want to be here. And believe it or not the comms aren’t meant for your cheeky commentary.”

“You love my cheeky commentary.” She giggled, and Jem could almost picture the mischief in her brown eyes. Her tone switched instantly from humorous to supportive, “Stick to the plan. She knows you as Caspian Vanderbelt, you run a successful stock trading company and have been known to dabble in insider trading from time to time.”

“Jem Morale?” The mere mention of their real name sent ice through their veins. Jem’s face remained neutral, but every muscle in their being stilled.

Amalthea took a pause before rushing out, “Don’t respond,” unfortunately she didn’t manage to speak before Jem turned around to find the source of the voice, “Don’t even turn around. Completely igno- me. Ignore me apparently.”

Standing not even three feet away from them was Jem’s mark. Clad in a bright red cocktail dress that hugged her curves and stayed up via two thin straps was Sol. Also known as the Co-Captain of The Crimson Talons. Her long, white hair was done up in a braided bun, a few loose hairs hung stratgeticaly to frame her face. Her neck and fingers were adorned with sparkling, gold jewellery embedded with rubies. And everything was tied together with a striking red lip.

Jem’s first thought at the sight of her, I should’ve never been here.

Thursday September 13th, 16:22

The dings of the bakery’s front door had been chiming continuously throughout the day. Jem, wearing their favourite apron over a blue flannel, the sleeves rolled up. Lillian had been chosen to help Jem in the kitchen that day, preparing for the morning breakfast rush, and the slower yet always interesting four o’clock coffee rush. Elgar manned the front counter, being the friendliest and most patient of the agency.

The kitchen was spacious, all of the appliances and surfaces made of kitchen-safe stainless steel. Four ovens were stacked in the corner, each set to certain temps for certain baked goods. There’s a warmer pressed up right next to them, keeping the products as fresh as possible. The three part sink was across the room, a table for all the dirty dishes that were cleaned and reused throughout the day just to the left of it. Two tables laid in the center of the room making enough space for multiple people in the mornings to roll dough, line trays, etc. And many of the utensils and pans layed on the shelf beneath the tables for easy access.

As Jem had prepared to serve up another apple pie for the front counter, Thorne entered from the laundry room in the basement of the building. He stood well over six feet tall, his shaggy caramel brown hair was just long enough to hang over his crystal blue eyes. His face and arms covered in scars ranging from light to the most severe laying hidden beneath his black t-shirt. He had the strongest muscular build of the agency, tending towards working out instead of socializing more often than not.

He took the nearest apron off the hook, wrapping it around his waist, “Morale, I’ll take over here. You need to head to the library.”

“Last time I checked, I don’t take orders from you.” Despite Jem’s words, their tone was playful as they handed the pie over.

As Thorne took the pie over an oven mitt, he used his other hand to grip Jem’s shoulder firmly. They looked up and saw the serious look on Thorne’s face, sympathy just barely registering over his eyes, “Jem, Alveyn’s gone.”

The feeling that washed over them could only be described as sickening shock. It shook them to the very core and their vision blurred. For a second they thought they were about to collapse if Thorne’s grip didn’t help ground them to reality. They weren't sure how much time passed until they took their next breath, but even the exhale felt like acid seeping through their airways.

They nodded, grabbing Thorne’s hand and squeezing it for some light emotional support before leaving. They didn’t even remove their apron, and despite the normal fifteen minute walk between agencies, Jem hardly registered the fact they had reached the library until the polite, blonde receptionist, Ophelia interrupted their trance.

“Hello there, is there any way I can assist you today?” Her lilted tone, typically so sweet to anyone who could hear it, was grating to Jem.

She sat still behind her desk, her eyes lighting up towards them, and waited patiently for a response. Jem knew she was waiting for the code to let them into The Remnants. But the shock let the phrase escape them. Jem could only blink, dropping eye contact as they tried to fight the haze of their mind to find the code. But the only thing that appeared in their mind’s eye was flashes of the last time Alveyn and them spoke.

“Jem.” A monotone, yet familiar voice interrupted their panic. Mercy, who had been tucked behind Ophelia’s desk with her, rose to her feet. She came around, and put her tanned arm around their shoulders. Her blue-black hair had been finely french braided down, courtesy of her girlfriend.

“I’m here.” Jem replied with a half-hearted smile, their voice a little shaky.

Mercy nodded, leading them back behind the counter. “I’ll be back in a second.”

As soon as the door to the back room closed Jem asked, “What happened to Alveyn?”

She was slightly taken aback by the harshness of their tone, and Jem wanted to kick themselves for being rude to someone who was genuinely trying to help. They took a deep breath, closing their eyes on the inhale. “I mean, how did it happen?”

“That’s what we wanted to know from you.” Mercy replied, pressing the wall to release a hidden compartment from within. She pressed her ring into the curved indent as one of the bookshelves unlatched itself from the wall. Revealing a hidden staircase leading to a second floor hidden from the masses.

Jem’s eyebrows furrowed, “I wasn’t there. If I was, Alveyn wouldn’t be the one lying on a slab in some morgue.”

Mercy turned on her heel, halfway up the stairs. “Jem, Alveyn’s not dead. He left the agency in the middle of the night.”

That significantly lifted the concrete weight from their shoulders, but the haze in their mind was replaced by confusion and barely contained anger. They slipped past Mercy into The Remnants agency, where Romy, Lewellyn, and Quinn stood around a circular table.

The common room was quite devoid of decorations that weren’t useful in one way or another. Hanging above were long rows of fluorescent lights to illuminate the whole room. The room with bare, charcoal grey walls was no bigger than Jem’s kitchen at the bakery. It had a few round tables spread across the room, which fit considering The Remnants had the largest crew in all the agencies. Nearby each table were whiteboards and cork-boards with information and evidence from the latest case. Each board is accompanied with strings connecting certain theories and timelines.

Lewellyn was the first one to look up from the table, her deep blue eyes widened in surprise at Jem’s rushed pace. Although being only a supervising agent, Lewellyn was Romy’s (the captain of the agency) right hand man. She rose to her feet, grabbing Romy’s arm to get his attention towards the situation.

“Alveyn wouldn’t just leave, there has to be something wrong.” Jem exclaimed, reaching the table and leaning forward with their hands splayed on the flat surface.

Romy’s face tried to remain firm, as he put his hands up in surrender, “Which is why we called you first. To see if he had left you any sign or note of his motives.”

“No, nothing.” Jem shot back, with very little thought. “How do you know he left? What if he’s been taken?”

Romy rose to his full height, around six feet. If he wasn’t so lean in stature he might be seen as more intimidating to others. But from what Jem has seen, it wouldn’t be too smart to underestimate him. “He put both his badge and ring in my mailbox last night. No note, nothing to indicate if he was being forced to do this, or if it was of his own free will. Please, think carefully, has he ever said anything about leaving.”

They let out a frustrated sigh, dropping themselves into the nearest seat. Jem dug the palms of their hands into their eyes before sincerely answering, “Yeah, but he was never serious. Him and I joked about it all the time. How we’d run away, change our names to something ridiculous like Augustus or Benedict and live out our lives in the mountains.” The longer Jem went on, the more their voice relaxed, reaching an almost dreamy state.

They were able to snap out of it before they went on for too long, “But most of those were when we were drunk, and joking around. Even if Alveyn was serious for a second, he would’ve asked me to come with. Those fantasies always involved the two of us, together. But they were just fantasies.”

Lewellyn had been listening intently the entire time, chewing on her inner cheek whenever she wanted to interject but thought better of it, “When did you see him last?”

Leaning back in their seat, Jem’s gaze remained pinned on the table in front of them, “Two nights ago, he invited me out for a drink. And naturally a drink turned into three, and then we lost count.”

“And he didn’t tell you goodbye, not once throughout the night?” Lewellyn questioned again.

Digging through the foggy memories of that night, Jem did in fact recall some words that were out of the ordinary for the two. That night, Alveyn didn’t have as much to drink as Jem did. Therefore he had to drag Jem back home, and pass them over to Amalthea to be taken care of. But as Alveyn laid them across the couch, he spoke under his breath.

“Even though we often drink to forget Bandit, these are the nights I pray I remember the fondest.”

That was the last thing Jem remembered from that night. And anyone who heard it would say it was part of a goodbye, perhaps the whole night out was. But Jem refused to believe this was still of Alveyn’s own accord. If he was tired of this life everyone chose for themselves then they believe he would’ve said something. Alveyn didn’t, not once.

So Jem, taking the moment to truly ponder their own selfish motives, they answered, “No, he didn’t. I promise, there’s something wrong here.”

Both Romy and Lewellyn shared a look, seemingly satisfied with their answer. The captain nodded before he spoke, “Then we will search for him. We’ll spread word throughout our partners and see if anything pops up. Thank you for your help.”

“Do you think it was the Talons?” Lewellyn asked with frustration bleeding through her tone and actions as she began taking down pins from the cork board behind her.

“The Crimson Talons?” Jem questioned, slightly taken aback by the mention of one of deadliest agencies in the state.

Romy gave Lewellyn a sharp look which went unnoticed by her as he came up with a soft spoken answer, “Yes, we’ve been setting up a mission over the past few weeks to try and shed some light on them. Alveyn was supposed to be our way in, but now that’s scratched.” He turned his attention towards Lewellyn’s question as he continued, “We haven’t made enough progress on the mission to tip them off yet. There wouldn’t be any reason for them to target Jones.”

“They could’ve tracked the emails exchanged, it's just suspicious is all.” She deadpanned, dropping the documents of evidence on the table, and resting her hands on her hips. “The date was set for tomorrow night, and now Alveyn’s gone.”

Quinn, the tall, tan woman with long brown hair had been sitting the entire exchange, boring into Jem with her eyes. Her head tilted ever so slightly in intrigue, and it had gone unnoticed by Jem until now since they had calmed down. They stared right back at her, confusion slowly forming across their features.

As Lewellyn went to take down what looked like a timeline of events, Quinn grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “I never noticed until now, but Jem and Alveyn have similar eyes. Don’t you think so?”

Lewellyn stared back at Jem, shrugging it off, “Kind of?”

“And black hair.” Quinn added, rising from the table to stand behind Jem. They went to stand up, kind of uncomfortable with the sudden attention on their looks. That was until Quinn ran her hands through their hair. “Think about it, with just trimming the sides a bit and style down their curls, they could almost be like brothers.”

Jem slipped out of her grasp, escaping via sliding under the table and away from her touch. They rolled outwards and rose to their feet, “Wh-what’re you doing?”

“Are you any good at espionage, Jem?” Quinn responded, eyeing them up.

“That’s not an answer.” They awkwardly chuckled as panic began to show behind their eyes.

Lewellyn turned on her heel towards Quinn, “Seriously, what are you doing?”

She only sighed in response, “Listen, we’ve spent five weeks worth of resources and time to take down the Talons. I’m sorry but I don’t want to let that go without a fight.” She explained, her face softening before speaking towards Jem. “If the Talons did manage to get their hands on Alveyn, then if we continue down this path with Jem instead then we may be able to find him faster.”

Lewellyn shook her head in defiance, “If the Talons do have Alveyn, then there’s no way they’ll come to the meet up tomorrow. There’d be no point.”

Quinn nodded, as if they were on the same page, “Exactly. If they don’t show up, we know exactly who has Alveyn. If they do, then we haven’t been made and we can continue with the plan anyways. It’s a win - win scenario.”

“Except,” Jem interjected, sounding exasperated but a part of their mind was beginning to agree with her, “I don’t do undercover. The Last Stand specializes in operating within the shadows. We deal with break ins, hacking, and other back door tactics to close cases. This is new.”

“We’ll be there every step of the way,” Quinn offered, “and if it helps you relax, we can bring our teams together on this. So you have your people on your back.”

“Quinn, pause. You aren’t a high enough rank to make that call.” Romy finally spoke up, raising a patient hand. The room fell silent as Romy’s eyes flitted back and forth in thought. He eventually rounded on Jem with the gentle facade he typically puts up when he’s extending an olive branch. “Though she does make a very good point. If you’re comfortable with it, it’ll not only help us but it inevitably helps Jones to come home.”

Jem shook their head, anger boiling under their skin but they remained calm. “Stop using Alveyn as some sort of bargaining chip. He deserves more than that.” Despite their own protests, they had to admit it was working quite well. With one last breath of defiance, Jem ran their fingers through their locks, “Do I have to get a haircut?”

Lewellyn gave them a stiff pat on the back, “It’ll help sell the ruse.”

“Cool, cool.” They quipped, approaching the board with the case details pinned to it. They helped Lewellyn and Romy set up the evidence once again, noticing a photo with a large red circle around it. It was a woman, fair skin and white haired, walking down the street.

They nodded towards it, “Who’s that?”

Lewellyn unpinned the photo and handed it over to Jem. “Our target, that’s Sol. Her brother, Umbra, isn’t pictured anywhere as far as we could tell. That’s who the real goal is. If we put Sol behind bars, then that’ll bring Umbra out of the woodwork. He’ll get sloppy, make mistakes.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Jem replied. “Umbra’s the lead assassin, it sounds like we’re counting on collateral damage.”

Romy snatched the photo from Jem, putting it back where it belonged with oddly steeled nerves. His face was not giving any emotion one way or another. Which matched his next, bleak words, “What you call damage is a means to an end.”

Friday September 14th, 20:36

The spy and assassin stared at each other, blinking for a moment. The woman known as Sol had her mouth agape as she held her phone to her ear. She seemed to be mid-conversation as she looked equally surprised at their appearance.

Trying desperately to recover, Jem finally spoke up, “I’m so sorry, do I know you?”

“One second,” Sol put up her finger before speaking into the phone, “I’m gonna have to let you go. I’m at the restaurant.” She nodded before hanging up.

With a regretful expression she turned her attention solely on Jem. “I’m so sorry for the intrusion, I just recognized you from the shop on main street. You own ‘That’s How I Roll’, right? Your photo hangs in the restaurant.”

Over the comms Lewellyn, who was partnered in the van with Amalthea, spoke up with agitation in her words, “Your photo is hanging in the bakery?”

Amalthea replied with an equal amount of fire, “You’ve never been to our bakery?”

Jem tried their best to think past the panic and the voices in their ear. “I do, I just didn’t know anybody paid that much attention.”

“Well not to freak you out or anything, but I go there every morning.” Sol replied, her tone growing softer in the middle of the statement. “Your croissants are the fluffiest I’ve ever had. Paired with your lattes, I couldn’t imagine going anywhere else.”

Jem tried to hide their smile behind their hand, whether it was from pride in their work or the humour of this entire situation they weren’t sure of. “Well thank you. We don’t get too many in person reviews, so this means a lot.”

Sol tilted her head sideways with a joking aura behind it, “Does it mean enough to you for me to get a coupon?” The two shared a laugh, while Jem tried to hide the genuine blush appearing on their cheeks. After the moment passed Sol peered around the room saying, “Am I keeping you? Are you waiting for someone?”

Jem shook their head, “No, I just finished having a couple drinks with some advertisers. Trying to get the word out so people will shop local. You?”

She peered around the room, “I am looking for someone. Doesn’t look like they’ve shown up yet.” Her eyelashes fluttered back towards them. “I could keep you company for a little bit, if you’d like.”

They contemplated it for a second. As far as they could tell she was genuine, and hadn’t clued in to who they were. And as long as she believed their intentions were true, then Jem would be able to continue with this ruse. Which is the same identity they wear every single day.

Jem nodded to the seat next to them, leaning against the bar countertop as they did. “As long as it doesn’t hold you up.”

Sol climbed onto the tall bar stool, placing her bag on the floor next to her feet. “I’m Faye, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Jem- you knew that, sorry.” They chuckled, taking a drink from their wine glass. Faye - or Sol - giggled as well, her softened eyes focussing on them. After letting out a relaxed sigh Jem asked, “What’re you drinking tonight?”

She gestured her head to the wine glass in their hand, “Whatever you’re having.” Jem ordered her a glass of red (specifically a higher priced merlot than what Jem got for themselves) and slid it towards her with a sharp sound against the countertop. Thanking them first, Faye continued, “I have a question for you that’s been bugging me for the longest time.”

Jem put their finger up in contest, “Afraid not, darlin’. You know way too much about me already. It’s your turn. What do you do for a living?”

This was the first time she paused, tucking her bottom lip into her teeth before answering. Jem wasn’t sure if it was out of habit or to draw their gaze to her mouth. If it was the latter, she would’ve noticed how their gaze lingered.

Her eyes dropped to the rings on her finger as she toyed with them before finally speaking, “This is a test. If you’re a dick this will help me figure it out.” Jem didn’t waver, trying to catch her eyes with theirs again. When she peered upwards from beneath her lashes, she visibly relaxed at their curiosity about her life. “I own a club on the west side of the city. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it but the lower level is a nightclub called, ‘Ruin.’ My brother runs that solo, while I run the upper level called, ‘Eurydice.’”

Jem’s eyes did glow in recognition, but they didn’t lose face. Mostly because the Remnants could fact check it, and maybe their agencies would be able to figure out if this was their front. “You run the strip club?”

“You’ve been?” She shot back, a mischevious grin spreading across her face.

Jem shook their head, “My roommate keeps asking me to go with him. I keep finding excuses not to go.”

“Why’s that?” Her tone shifted, slightly accusatory.

Jem could tell she took pride in her work. Whether or not it was a front, it seemingly made no difference to her. And honestly Jem knew the feeling, as her earlier compliments about their passion for their bakery did warm their heart.

Jem did think about their words carefully, speaking slowly so as to not let it come across the wrong way, “intimacy is different for me than it is for a lot of people. The feeling of comfort and trust I need is not something that can be bought.” A slight flush appeared across her cheeks before they continued, “So since I’ve heard of your club, you must be doing incredibly well for yourself. Do you perform as well or just run the place?”

Her shoulders straightened out, her smile growing twice as wide, “I dance sometimes, but only for select clientele. Typically only those who sweet-talk me in a lovely accent.” Faye’s right hand fell from the table and was subtly placed on Jem’s knee, her fingers gently caressing against their skin.

Jem had to suppress the shiver down their spine, their eyes falling to their glass which they decided to quickly finish off to remove some of their nerves. They made eye contact with the bartender and waved her over. When she arrived Jem simply asked, “Can I get a whiskey? Make it a double, please and thank you.”

The bartender nodded, looking over to Faye if she needed anything as well. Her eyes stayed fixed on Jem’s face as she agreed, “Whiskey, make it a double.” Jem finally turned back to her with surprise written across their faces. She only shrugged, completely carefree, “I did say, whatever you’re having. Right?”

The night continued like that. Hours of ordering the same drinks and chit chat among the two. Jem made sure to slow down, careful to not get messy because this was a mission. But they did forget about the two women over the wire a number of times. Somewhere between them explaining that the name of their bakery isn’t that bad when you compare it to Thorne’s suggestion of “Command-dough”, and her detailing her encounter of how she got the necklace she was wearing. Although ambiguous, she seems to have a lot of things in her possession she obtained in less than legal ways.

The little inbetween conversations were what made Jem forget they were having drinks with a murderer. Someone whose name Jem might not even know for sure; and if she knew who they really were Jem doubts she would even flinch before slicing a blade across their throat. She’s a criminal. A mastermind.

Their empathy was their downfall, even when it came to their marks. Which is why Jem chooses to operate from a distance. Personalizing themselves with a target never benefits their line of work. It actually makes it harder to look at themselves in the mirror.

The only thing convincing Jem that building a case against her is the right thing is Jem doubts this is really her. These aren’t her stories, or her personality. It’s all a facade that she set up for Alveyn prior to tonight. And yet the way her red eyes lit up at every joke and interest made Jem second guess anything they knew.

Eventually, the bartender let the two know it was their last call. Jem paid their building tab with the agency’s card and walked Faye out with her on their arm. The wind stirred in the late night, rushing between the fine strands of Faye’s hair as the two approached the sidewalk of the steadily trafficked street.

“Thank you for tonight, I’m sorry your friend didn’t make it.” Jem lied, but from the way their grin stretched from ear to ear, Faye thought they lied for a different reason.

Faye shrugged, turning towards them and pulling Jem closer by the lapel of their coat. Hey eyes bored into theirs, her smile matching, “Can’t say I share the sentiment.” Leaning forward on her toes, her scarlet lips relaxing as she closed the distance between them.

Jem tried their best to remain calm as the pair kissed under the glowing street light. Their hands slid up her sides and stilled against the backside of her ribs. They pulled her closer, focussing on the subtle movements of their lips and nearly got lost in the softness of her skin.

Faye was the one to pull away, placing a gentle kiss on their cheek and beneath their ear before whispering, “You seem tense, Jem. Wanna come back to my place to relax a little? A hot tub, another glass of wine, whatever you like.”

The tension in their shoulders screamed at them to agree, and the haze from the alcohol and the smell of her perfume convinced them even more. Yet they still managed to mutter out “I’m- I’m sorry. I can’t.” Pulling back just enough to get back some control over themselves, Jem continued, “I got to be up early for work, and I think you being next to me will be the best kind of wrench in my plans.”

Faye stepped back, but didn’t drop her hands from their suit. She took a minute to think as Jem waved down a cab for her. With their head turned, Faye grabbed a pen from the chest pocket of their coat and began writing on the exposed flesh of their neck.

Jem flinched, but her grip on them was surprisingly strong. “Hold still, nerd.”

“It’s ticklish,” Jem breathed out a laugh, but let her finish in spite of it. She pressed the pen into their hand as they quipped, “Done marking me up, darlin’?”

“It’s my number.” She stepped forward once more, not to make a move yet it still made Jem’s breath hitch. “Call me so we can set up a night where you don’t work the next morning, yeah?”

Jem’s eyes widened, a dopey smile growing on their face. They opened the cab door for her and replied when she tucked herself into her seat. “I’ll reach out when I can. Have a great night, Faye.”

She closed the door, blowing them a tantalizing kiss as the cab took off. Jem watched the car until it turned out of sight. Maybe they lingered under the night’s sky for a bit longer, still kind of amazed all of that happened. Until reality set in, and the transparency of the moment fell onto their shoulders.

Faye was a killer. And they were going to arrest her, come hell or high water.

That was the mantra they said to themselves as they walked a block down to a shadowed parking lot. A couple stray cars remained in the dead of night. The black van with two side windows was what Jem had been looking for. They knocked on the back door in a practiced code. A moment afterwards, the door swung open with a very unamused Lewellyn on the other side.

Inside the back of the van was a small three screen computer set up on a wall shelf with two chairs pulled up to it. Acting as a sort of desk, that would be inconspicuous enough in the city. Amalthea was sitting right up next to it, a lined paper notebook in her lap. In contrast to Lewellyn, she was having trouble hiding her smug grin.

And Amalthea inevitably failed as she asked, “How was your date?”

Jem shook their head in aggravation, “It wasn’t a date.”

“Well that didn’t seem like a mission either.” Lewellyn commented, falling back into her chair. Taking a deep breath she reasoned, “If you offered to take her back to your place, then we could’ve taken her in.”

“And leave you guys here? Or were you guys planning on tailing us in the shadiest vehicle of the century?” Jem countered, leaning both of their arms against the entrance to the van. “We can set up another meeting, I got her number.”

“Which wasn’t even your idea. You almost walked away empty handed.” She flipped through the notebook on her lap, chewing her lip. “Okay, not completely. We ran a quick background check on the clubs she mentioned. They are run by a Faye and Malakai Perish. It appears to be the Crimson Talons front. Which means we can put some agents out there to find any other agents connected to Talons. We could get names for everyone involved, and take them all down at once.” For the first time she made eye contact with them, giving Jem a half-hearted smile, “Good job.”

She turned to Amalthea, “What notes do you have?”

Amalthea shrugged, “Only one.” Flipping the notebook around, in big bold letters was a message, Welcome back, slut.

Jem caught their laugh with their hand as Lewellyn tore the notebook from Amalthea and smacked her arms with them playfully. The excuses Amalthea attempted to make were muffled as Jem shut the door and went around to climb into the passenger seat of the van.

Thorne sat in the driver’s seat, his eyes lifting from his copy of, “The Song Of Achilles.” He placed it down gently, using a receipt as a bookmark and started up the engine. He was seemingly uninterested in how the night went down until he pulled out of the parking lot, speaking into the silence, “So, how was your date?”

This exact conversation was brought up continuously through the rest of the night.

Saturday September 15th, 00:14

Faye waited until the taxi had turned out of sight before pulling out her phone. Her shoulders finally relaxed and she slumped into her seat as the dial tone echoed in her ear. It only took one ring for her brother to pick up on the other end, “Faye?” His tone was panicked, anger resonating behind his words. She only rolled her eyes in response.

Malakai had always been protective of her since they realized just how broken of a home they were raised in. Working as assassins had only made his shroud more difficult to shake. Mal was always looking out for the enemies that lie in wait for them to make a simple mistake, and rip out everything the twins built from underneath them.

But Faye wasn’t stupid, nor was she reckless when it came to her work. She hoped he would’ve learned that by now, and yet she was still questioned everytime she walked out the door.

“The one and only.” Was her response as she examined her nails.

“What happened? You ran into Morale?” He asked as he shuffled around some papers on the other side of the line.

They knew very little about Jem in comparison to the real target tonight. The twins discovered that Jem was close with Alveyn Jones, current Remnants member and former agent for The Hangmen. His old gang had been named in connection to the youngest Perish sibling’s disappearance. So the twins needed to get Alveyn tonight, if only for more information.

And yet Jones never showed.

Instead, his best friend and closest confidant stood in his place. Which shocked Faye to the core at the sight of them. But she had to keep up the facade. Nothing had gone to plan which ended with Faye revealing too much about herself during her ruse. But Jem didn’t seem to mind, it actually seemed to draw them in to her more.

Like Icarus to the sun.

“It’s fine, they didn’t notice any red flags. Jones never showed, though.” She explained. “I think maybe they were looking for him too, or possibly were covering for him.”

Mal was silent for a moment in thought. “Are they with you now?”

Faye shook her head despite Malakai not being able to see her, “I tried to bring Jem home so we could discuss some things,” Faye chose her words very carefully so as to not alarm the taxi driver, “but they refused. I did give them my number though so we could try again another day.”

“You think something happened to Jones?” He continued to question her, trying to get the full picture before she arrived so they could focus on planning when she got there in person.

“I’m not sure, I think the best we can do for now is wait for Jem’s call. They have to know more than they’re saying.” As Faye noticed the clubs’ lights coming into view, she reached into her bag and counted out the change needed for her fare. She was incredibly careful not to tip over ten percent.

“What angle are you playing?”

Faye bit her smile, “Charming city girl, who saw a handsome person at a bar and just had to approach them. I wore a pretty dress and ordered pricey drinks. What I really learned about them tonight is that they’re not against an expensive date.”

“Something that’s clearly going to be relevant, I’m sure.” He quipped.

She handed the money to the driver, climbed out of the car, and closed the door gently. The line of people was half a block long, waiting to descend into Ruin. As some people were arguing with the bouncer to be let in, the tall muscular man stepped aside for Faye without a word.

Her heels clicked against the stairs leading into the dimly lit club. The music bounced off the walls, overbearing to the point where you couldn’t hear the person next to you no matter how hard you tried. Although with the amount of people grinding to music, the vibe of the club wasn’t about conversation.

Faye ducked into the back room behind one of the bars, and the music became muffled when the door shut behind her. Jim and Janette were sitting amongst some of the storage, counting cash and filling out forms.

Janette looked up in surprise, a smile beaming across her face, “Umbra was looking for you, you should go see him right away.”

Faye smiled tightly and squinted, she pointed at her phone trying to communicate that she’s been in contact with him, “Thanks Janette.”

On a pivoting floor board, Faye pushed a stack of boxes out of the way, and pushed in. The door ejected from its spot and she entered, using the handle on the inside to pull it shut again. Their communal room was finely decorated, the center of the room having the floor sunken in with seats and a small table in the center. There were stairs on either side to descend into the seating area, and ascend towards the large screen hung on the wall. The furniture -down to the wood of the table- stayed within the colour palette of reds and golds.

The table in the center had a touchscreen that connected to the large one on the wall. Whatever you move, click, or write will appear on the large screen. It made debriefs and planning much simpler in a group.

How the twins got the money to pay for everything, nobody needed to know.

Umbra was leaning forward, elbow on his knee as he leaned forwards to reach the table. He looked up at Faye’s entrance, hanging up the phone and said, “Fucking Janette.”

“Fucking Janette.” Faye murmured in agreement. She tucked her phone into her back pocket before taking a seat next to her brother.

Umbra reached out towards the table and pulled up the most recent photos of their target: Alveyn Jones. They were a series of candid photos expanded as multiple angles were shown. Leaving the library, entering the bar. Leaving the bar with their surprise guest of the evening, Jemon Morale, under his arm.

And the last photo taken on the thirteenth, two days prior. The last known sighting of Caspian Vanderbelt.

He was entering a black car in the dead of night with one bag hanging off his shoulder. The only identifying mark being the rims on the car being engraved to match the look of a pirate ship’s wheel. Everyone had a symbol of their status in their respective agencies. This one was for the Hangmen crew.

Umbra began the debrief, “Jones had spent his final day seemingly running errands. Visiting his bank, his property manager. If anyone looked at it, as Jim had, Alveyn was simply paying rent. Upon further investigation since you were interrupted tonight, Alveyn drained his accounts and ended his lease. No notice.”

“Hence why Jim’s on stock duty, I get it.” Faye replied.

Umbra gave a short chuckle before continuing, “He’s completely off the grid. But I believe he’s still in the city since we haven’t found any plane, train, or bus tickets under any known aliases from the Hangmen.”

“The Last Stand and The Remnants must know that he’s missing. It’s the only reason Jem would’ve been there.” She added. “But how much do they know?”

“What are our options?”

After a brief moment of staring at the screens, Faye began, “They could’ve sent Alveyn in as a double agent but his wire has gone dead.”

Umbra countered, “Maybe Alveyn mentioned something to Morale about the dinner and they went on their own to try and find them. I mean the only person who doesn’t know about Jones’s commitment issues is Jemon.”

She hummed in agreement, “Or it’s a complete coincidence they were there tonight and he and Jem are still writing love letters to each other.”

Umbra was taken aback, letting out a sound of approval. “To keep a cover, not alert any spy agencies to his shifting loyalty.”

The twins shared a look like they cracked something. Or at least came up with the most entertaining narrative like how they gossiped in their youth. It was the most expressive Umbra had ever gotten in their later years. Even in the hardest of times the sun knew how to brighten the moon.

“It does however,” Umbra continued, “mean we’re back to square one. No lead on Tobias, or Jones, or mother.”

Faye let out a deep breath, trying to come up with a game plan. But even after minutes of flipping through notes she could only come up with one solution. “Oddities?”

Umbra groaned, throwing his feet up on the table, “We can’t go back there. I swear, Reward’s out to get me.”

Faye shoved Umbra’s feet off the surface, “It’s our best chance of getting information. Trivia knows everything, you’ll barely have to engage with the guy. It’s not for us, you know that.”

Another sigh left through his lips as a resolute, “For Serena,” followed.

#jem #campaign 1 #au week #friend ocs #au week 2023 #faye #my writing

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