#the only bright spot in this pit of darkness and despair

[sashi-ya]

Hiii! Firstly bless you and your blog😩❤❤ im so glad i follow you now and secondly can i request a nsfw of luffy,zm zorro or kidd tbh. I'll take any of em

Baby!! thank u! Of course! I chose Luffy because I think that there is not enough NSFW of him out there. Yet, I might have gotten a lot into it and ended up writing more than 2K words hahaha. I hope it's ok with you! I included some fluff too 💖✨ ~

NSFW ~ Monkey D. Luffy x F! Reader ~ Moonlight 🌙🌟

TW: Nsfw. Fluff. Shooting stars. First time together. Confessing love. A little bit of Angst. Oral, vag, masturbation.

A/N: I was listening to "Moonlight" by Ariana Grande and got inspired because for some reason it reminds me of Luffy. I included some verses of the song too. If you want, you could listen to the song while reading this fic ♥ ~

WC: ~ 2.4K

Summer breeze, twinkling stars on a velvety dark sky. The moon shines brighter than ever. The lights of the Thousand Sunny go has been all turned off as all nakamas went to sleep. Tonight you are on guard, so you head up to the crow's nest. But you notice someone is sitting over the lion's (sun) head of the ship looking at the immense sky above him. Who else could be sitting there if not Luffy?

Luffy, your captain, and the man you fall in love with since the very first time you saw his smile.

He saved you, even if you weren't a princess in distress, you were saved from the pits of despair, from the darkness that was surrounding you. Luffy brightens your world with just a smile and the proposal you will always cherish in your memory.

"Join my crew, be my nakama".

But you love this man in silence, Luffy is not interested in love or relationships, Luffy only wants to be free, Luffy wants to be the king… or that’s what you think. You have accepted your faith and love him from the dark ever since.

A shooting star crosses the sky, you see Luffy lifting his arms. Perhaps he saw it too and made a wish? Perhaps he is just excited with the beauty of it.

But you did make a wish. Even if it felt somehow selfish, you just couldn't help it. You squeeze your eyes and softly whisper "I wish Luffy would love me as much as I love him".

"Who am I trying to fool? If I am somehow a distraction to achieve his dreams, then please don't love me" you think.

The sweet voice of Luffy breaks the silence of the night; "Oi!! Oi! (Name)!". "Great, I'm also hearing voices now" you grunt as you slowly open your eyes. But you weren't, Luffy was waving at you from his special spot, being bathed by the shine of the silver moon in the sky.

"Did you see the shooting star??" He asks and doesn't wait for you to come closer to him, but instead, he stretches his arms and takes you next to him.

Your ass hits the strong wood of Sunny's head. "Luffy… I did" you tell him, panting and embarrassed to be in his arms. He let's go of you and flashes a big smile. "It was really bright and big, wasn't it?" You say, just to break the ice.

"It was, yes. I asked for a wish… you know?" He says, his eyes becoming sad. "You did? I hope your wish gets fulfilled ~" you say, hoping the same with yours.

"Maybe someday…" he says, sighing and looking down. The straw hat covers his face.

You haven't seen Luffy act like this since you know him, it is so weird for you. But, at the same time, you are glad he is showing his true emotions to you. Luffy always acts so strong, so happy even if his heart is breaking, because above all things he knows he has to be ok to take care of you all and doesn't want to bother you at all.

“Are you ok, Lu?” you ask, trying to see his face from under the strawhat that is hiding his expressions. He sighs once again, and then looks at you with a smile. You know he is smiling because he doesn’t want to worry you. “Don’t smile if you don’t feel like it, Luffy. You can talk to me about what’s going on…” you tell him, brushing your thumb over the scar he has on his cheek. You panic inside you, “why am I touching him?!”.

Luffy sneaks his arms around you, this is a normal practice he has. The gum boy always hugs all of you and kisses you goodnight. In your mind you constantly repeat “this is just something he does with everyone”, yet your heart beats faster and faster. You look at him, burning cheeks, thinking what to say while inside your body a storm takes part. You are fighting against yourself not to kiss him, not to tell him how much you love him.

“(Name), do you think Ace is looking at me from the sky?” he asks, pointing at the dark firmament above you. Luffy is now resting his head on your lap. You melt at such a sweet question. “He definitely does, Luffy. Look, see that star? The one that shines the most? the one Nami told you is called Venus and she uses it as a guide for navigation? That one, that one is Ace. He guides you from there, shining bright just for you to see him when everything gets darker” you tell him, pointing at the flickering brilliance.

“Shi shi shi shi!” he laughs with his finger under his nose. “Hi Ace!” he waves at the sky, smiling from ear to ear. You are glad he is truly happy now. And because Luffy’s grin is so contagious you smile just like him, a warmth in your heart that makes you feel so full of love.

He hugs you tight, “thank you, Name…”. Luffy stands up, takes his hat off and puts on your head. He presses it down, so you can feel the weight of his hand over your head. That means how much he cares about you, how much he wants to protect you and doesn’t want to lose you for nothing in the whole world. And you smile, this is enough for you…

“You have a star also, you know?” he tells you all of a sudden, looking at the sky and lending you a hand to stand up. You took his hand and rose up, trying not to lose equilibrium. “Do I?” you ask. “Uhum, that one!” Luffy points towards the moon. “Luffy, that’s the Moon!” you tell him, surprised. “Yeah, and look how pretty it is! It shines so much! It lights up the dark sky, just like you and Ace!” he says, so naturally. You shake your head; you just can’t believe the words you just listened to. “Am I the Moon for him?” ...

And suddenly, Luffy turns around, hugging you from your waist, planting the sweetest kiss on your lips you have ever felt. The wish, did your wish come true?... Of course it did!

“Luffy… did you know the moon shines because of the Sun’s rays?” you tell, both of you pressing your foreheads. “It does?” he asks, already knowing the answer. “Uhum, you are the Sun. My Sun. You light up everyone’s world with your smile”.

“You make me smile…” he says and stretches his arm to the crow’s nest, while the other one gets wrapped around your waist. And there you go, recklessly flying from the deck to the lookout tower. Panting, you are left on the ground. Luffy usually hits Zoro or Sanji against the walls, but not you. He always protects you, and treats you like a princess. “Are you on guard tonight?” he asks. “I am…” you say, not sure why he is asking.

“Then, come here” he tells and softly pushes you against the little bed Zoro usually uses when he wants to rest after an intense training session. “L-Luffy?” you ask, embarrassed as hell. What is he doing?...

The future king lays next to you on the little cot, he wraps his arms around you and both of you are again nose touching. “I’m in love with you (Name)…” he whispers. You gasp. “He does?”. You took some minutes to process the man you thought would never love you, just said the opposite.

“Uh… I… I am… I am too…” you stutter but giggle once you have confessed your feelings. “I know, shi shi shi shi” he laughs and plants another sweet kiss on your lips. But this time, it doesn’t end in a peck… his tongue looks for yours, and slowly but surely it becomes into a sweet, steamy make out session. You’ve always known Luffy hides this behaviour very well. His innocence does not mean he cannot be passionate in bed…

And you let yourself go, accepting that your sweet captain can also be a man, a man that can and will send you to heaven. The hands of Mugiwara no Luffy travel up and down your body. He wants you so bad. You help him take off your clothes. You are left completely naked in front of him, in body and soul, ready to be taken.

Luffy, softly, gently, lovely kisses you once more, then lowers his kisses through your neck to your chest. He does it so slow, you wouldn’t think he could be that calm… but he is, he wants to enjoy every inch of your skin. Your flesh reacts to his lips, little spasms, little stings of pleasure.

His hands are now on your thighs, a place he also kisses delightedly. “You are so perfect, (Name)” he exclaims, amazed with the beauty of your anatomy. You brush his black hair, looking at his face, somehow that kid face is not there anymore, his eyes show lust, passion, and love.

“Can I?” he asks, before touching your panties. “Yes…” you allow him, amazed by the respect he has for you and your body… After all, he is Luffy.

He smiles, and little by little takes your panties off, sliding the fabric through your thighs, to your knees and finally through your feet. Luffy kisses each spot as he lowers the underwear.

He sighs, nervously looking at your entrance. You bite your lip, a little embarrassed. This is the first time Luffy sees you naked, he is discovering every inch of your body. The gum gum boy looks at you, eyes widen, he swallows. He is nervous, he doesn’t want to ruin this moment… if he only knew he is perfect no matter what…

He takes air, his fingers softly graze your pelvis. He leans forward, his mouth reaching your sex. Soft kisses, and shy tongue. He tastes the honey of your arousal, and in a matter of seconds he loses his calm. Luffy devours you, dedicatedly, passionately enjoying the sweet taste of you. And you arch your back, grabbing the sheets as he also sticks his index inside you.

Moaning and panting, he does it so well. You are amazed by the way he is able to please you, fixing his eyes on your pleasure expressions as you come.

Luffy settles over you, caressing your cheek as your breathing returns back to normal. “I love you” he whispers. You flash a smile, completely drunk with love and lust.

And you have always wanted to taste his skin, to kiss every single corner of his body, so you softly straddle your hips over him. You take off his red kimono while kissing his lips. His chest exposed, you admire the red scar that resembles an X, his strong abs, little past wounds that still need some healing. “I wanted this for so long, Luffy…” you confess, attacking his neck.

You could have sworn his skin would have no scent at all due to the gum, but you were wrong. A subtle manly aroma mixed with the little drops of sweat invades your nose. Deliciously intoxicated, your lips leave a path of kisses all towards his belly. Quiet moans left his mouth as you kiss the tight gum skin, that doesn’t feel at all like it.

Lower and lower your smooches go. You now kneel on the bed, just to kiss his hip bones. Luffy, lost in pleasure, can only run his fingers through your hair. You untie the waist string, allowing the kimono to open fully. To your surprise he is not even wearing underwear. You take your hand to your mouth when you discover the size of his manhood.

“L-uffy…” you stutter. “What baby?” he asks, acting all innocent. “Don’t make it grow anymore…” you say, completely aware of the fact that he can control its length to his own liking due to his devil fruit. “Ah.. sorry, sorry” he says laughing. You can’t help but laugh with him.

But of course, this is not over, so your mouth reaches the throbbing member of your lover. Strings of precum drip from it, product you lick delightedly. Salty heaven that makes Luffy clench his jaw whenever your tongue plays with it. But you want more, and so you put his whole length into your mouth, sucking, up and down, licking and also stroking his shaft.

Luffy moans louder, hopefully no one has listened, yet not sure of it. He buckles up his hips against you, making the tip of his sex graze your throat. Watery eyes, sight that enjoys the man in front of you submitting to you, lost in pure lust and desire.

“(N-ame… Name…) come here… I- I- let me…” he says panting, pulling from you. In an instant Luffy has settled his body over you. Grabbing your wrists with just one hand above your head and grabbing his dick with the other. “Let me… Can I?” he asks, and you of course nod, biting your lip. Your sex is begging to be filled by him, desperately asking for it.

And inside he goes, deep, deep inside. In and out, violent thrusts, repeating how much he loves you, fixing his eyes on yours. Making sweet, sweet love to you. Yet feeling the power of his Emperor’s Haki as he pounds into you.

Sweet like candy, but he is such a man…

And both of you come, panting, sweating, at the same time as those romantic movies. You aching your back, moaning his name. Luffy panting, kissing your lips, muzzled I love yous, filling you with his warm seed...

The moonlight that filters through the glass walls of the crow’s nest bathes Luffy’s back as he pants, still inside you, looking into your eyes with pure love and desire. That night, both of your wishes came true…

Because they were exactly the same...♥ ~

#monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy op #luffytaro #luffy wano #luffy headcanons #op luffy #mugiwara no luffy #luffydmonkey #luffy #one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x oc #one piece fanfic #one piece scenario

[angelguk]

what happens in this section is entirely a result of what guys voted please do not! come for my head in my inbox im begging. very sad in general like Angst with a capital A with a sprinkle of despair and pain. listen to mess it up by gracie abrams. roughly 2k.

(titled — out of line)

You thought Lucas would help, the warmth of his body a distraction from your aching heart, but he didn’t. Not the way you needed him to. He was sweet enough, made you giggle endlessly before finding his place between your thighs. But even with his tongue on your clit, your (now usually sober) mind still lingered on Jeongguk, his memory a stain on your soul. It didn’t help when you spotted him with a girl hanging off his arm, her bright eyes stuck on his face, soaking him in like the earth does the sun. You didn’t know her name – Chayoung took the liberty of whispering it to you after your biology lab. She was Hyeri, a sophomore with a delicate laugh and graceful disposition. That vile vindictive black thing that now inhabited your chest swelled, brain already comparing the differences between you and her. Your clumsiness suddenly felt like a curse, even though Jeongguk had countlessly said he loved you for it (or did he say that just to ease your worries?). Insecurities spring forth like weeds and you don’t have the capacity to keep the careful garden of your heart tended. 

They take over slowly, your eyes stinging whenever you see them huddled together in the quad. Bitter tears blinked back, your blinkered senses overlooking how Jeongguk’s quiet gaze followed your figure whenever you turned your back to him, even with Yoona yapping at his ears. 

Perhaps the despondency that clung to your bones is what led you here, face planted in the musky scent of Namjoon’s sheets, your heart throbbing funny. 

“Can you even breathe?” He questions. The timbre of his voice washes over you, familiar and somewhat reassuring. You twist upright to face him, eyes squeezing tight when the bright fluorescent lights in his room assaults your vision. 

“I was hoping my heart would give up if I held it in long enough.”

Namjoon stills, brown eyes flitting over you. He coughs like he’s working through various sets of words before he decides what’s most suitable. “And then what? I get framed for murder when they find your body here?”

You laugh, and it hurts. “Maybe. My body is very portable though, did you consider first burying me in the backyard?”

“Rookie mistake,” Namjoon returns. He rises to fetch the mugs of tea sitting idle on a stool he’d dragged from the corner of his room. “The sniffer dogs would fly straight to that location. Also, I’d have to dig a hole big enough to fit your head in.”

“And why would the dogs find me immediately?” You say, shuffling upright, palms ready to receive the tepid heat that will seep through the ceramic the moment the cup settles in your hand.

“Your perfume,” Namjoon says. He hands you the mug, heat fulfilling its chosen purpose, the scent of gentle jasmine wafting to your nose.

You pout then, glancing at him. “My perfume?”

“It’s distinct. Violet, right? Maybe vanilla too?” Namjoon says it easily, sinking beside you, utterly unaware of the ticking in your brain. Your gaze falters then, shifting to his broad shoulder and thick biceps. The ivy shirt he’s got on barely contains all that muscle in, fabric stretched thin. 

You take a sip of your tea, and despite the period Namjoon gave it to cool it still scalds your tongue. 

“Why do you know what fragrance I wear?” It comes out accusatory, but Namjoon handles it well, laughing low.

“You’ve had the same one since high-school, I think. And I remember you telling me.”

The fingers around your cup squeeze tight, your brain unlocking a moment you’d forgotten in the wake of brighter ones. A quiet afternoon at the back of your high-school, Namjoon towering over you, his nose trailing the hollow of your neck, a stray comment about how you smelled good washing over you. It was followed by a flustered younger version of you deflecting, heart pounding wild when Namjoon drew back to look at you as you rattled off the different sillages that made up your favourite perfume. He’d laughed, low like did just now, before calling you cute and pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Oh,” you finally murmur. “I remember now.”

You were actually going to change it after your break-up with him, but then Jeongguk had mentioned how much he’d liked it and the bottle had stayed.

Namjoon hums, his gaze slow as it shifts around the room. It’s a space that screams of him, light wood tones and plants breaking from the pristine white walls. Space carved for nature, a grounding sensation living within these four walls – something that seems to live inside of Namjoon too.

“How are you?” He suddenly asks, turning slowly to measure your features. 

You blink hard, only realising then that you’d been staring at his face for a second too long. “F-fine. I’m okay. Just busy, y’know. Finals coming up, planning events; the usual.”

“I know,” Namjoon says with a ginger smile. “But that’s not what I’m asking. How are you? With Jeongguk and everything.”

“Oh.” You can’t answer that, his unexpected brazenness shocking your system. The smile on his lips fades, a solemnness in the brown of his eyes. His next words are earnest, and they settle in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N, I know you didn’t just come here to chat for no reason. We can talk about Jeongguk, that’s okay.”

“N-no, we don’t need it. We’re over. It’s been two months already. We’re seeing other people and I don’t really want to discuss one of my exes with another one. And maybe I did just come to see you,” you tack on an empty laugh at the end, hoping Namjoon doesn’t read right through you.

But he does. Like a part of you hoped he would.

“I’m your friend, you know. We had something but nothing like what you and Jeongguk have. Two months isn’t going to make a lifetime disappear. It’s okay if you still feel bad.”

That’s what cracks you, a well-aimed hammer knocking your walls right down. You bite your lip hard, fingertips pinching the ceramic in your grasp, and swallow the tears looming in your throat with a choked laugh. 

“I’m fine, Namjoon. I feel a little like shit but I’m working on it. And Lucas is a great guy–”

“But he’s not Jeongguk.” The sentence feels heavy as if it carries the weight of many hearts on it. But it’s also a line you were thinking about earlier, even with Lucas pressed against you.

“That’s not what I would say–”

“But it’s what you were thinking,” Namjoon cuts. Maybe there’s a peephole in your head that only Namjoon has access to. “And that’s fine. It sucks for Lucas, though. But you shouldn’t feel bad for thinking that way. Especially when you know how special Jeongguk is to you.”

Special. The word is bright, glimmering like Jeongguk’s eyes do. 

“I-I just–it just–I don’t know.” The tears you’d attempted to seal inside burst, slipping down your cheeks quiet. Namjoon pry's the mug from your hand, replaces its warmth with his own, and for a split second things feel bearable. 

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, a calloused palm on your damp cheek, his steadiness clearing away the gloomy skies in your head. But he doesn’t tell you to stop crying, doesn’t whisper that it’ll be okay. He just tugs you closer, rests your splinting head on his wide chest, and soaks up the tears on your face with his shirt. Like the earth does for the pouring heavens. 

You eventually hiccup the despair down, finding the words to explain to Namjoon what you were feeling in between the moments where breathing didn’t feel like a race. He takes the news of Jeongguk kissing somebody days after your break-up with wide eyes, his eyebrows drawing together. And then comes the second girl, you don’t even know her name but it still cleaves something out of you. And finally, Hyeri. Her name is a lament.

“And it sucks because he looks happy with her and I still want him to be happy because I still love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

Namjoon cocks his head then, his wide palm sliding down your back. “You think Jeongguk looks happy?”

“Yes?” But it’s a question, your upward gaze on his face imploring.

Namjoon shakes his head instead. You don’t hear it, the following words a deep muffled murmur, “Both of you are idiots.” But you see the twinkle in his eyes and it makes your back straighten.  

You want to pester but Namjoon pulls you closer, and you lose yourself in the feeling of him, before a question can register on your tongue. His arms are huge, like sturdy branches defying the blistering gales of your heart. He lets you cry for a little longer, listening intently to the continuing spew of words from your lips, until the storm quiets into a breeze. 

“Okay?” Namjoon asks.

You stick your head further into his chest, breathe him in deep. “Okay.”

When he shifts away your skin freezes, but then you realise he’s reaching for a blanket. He swathes it around you fondly, pulling you in for a swift hug before falling out of your reach once more. 

“Now, I think we both need a moment to process that.” He’s talking about but you’re not listening, your eyes on his face, gaze gently trailing the curve of his lips. “I also think we need food before we start unpacking the mess you’re in–”

You swallow the sentence with your lips, salt singeing the corners of your mouth. But your movements are not reciprocated, Namjoon’s mouth is still under yours. The soft hand on your neck guiding you away is what pulls you back, right out of that strange dark desperate ocean that held you. 

“Y/N–”

“Sorry, shit–shit, I shouldn’t have done that.” But there’s no use now, you can’t take it back. Namjoon is looking at you with those eyes, the ones that feel like pity. His sympathy suddenly makes you feel sick, and you wish the ceiling would give away and shatter your head. “I should go.” 

He tries to stop you, firm but gentle with his words and hands. But you’re a wild storm again and nothing can stop you from snatching your butterfly tote bag from the floor of his room and fleeing. The black thing that had been subdued for a moment reemergence with vengeance the second you hit the sidewalks, vision reeling. How could you do that? To Namjoon? To the stable friendship you'd created? But he felt too warm, too caring, too much of everything that you longing for and that Lucas could never give you.

Just a reminder of the swimmer's name as you skidding to a halt, the thump in your chest vicious. Maybe Jeongguk was right. Constantly painting yourself the victim while actively hurting the ones around you. Maybe you should have never let him kiss you again on that rooftop. Maybe you should have never tried to love him.

—

It’s silent in your head when you get back to your apartment. Sieun is home, finally back from her trip to her boyfriend’s parents place, so you’re not surprised to hear the soft hum of laughter filtering through the house. You don’t expect to find Chayoung there though. 

They’re huddling in the kitchen, drifting out cheery greetings when you trudge it, only to fall silent when you mumble back a hollow response. A gentle song floating from the radio fills the empty space, three bodies navigating something tense.  

“Were you with Lucas?” Sieun eventually pokes. She’s not a big fan of him. She’s not a big fan of the current break-up between you and Jeongguk either. She’s going to hate you for what you’re about to tell her.

“No,” you mumble. There are twenty notifications flashing across your phone screen, all from Namjoon. You feel sick, and you might cry again.

“Well? What’s with the long face?” Chayoung adds. 

You take a deep breath, gripping the marble counter tight before twisting around. Better to rip it off all at once right? And there’s no way you could hold this inside of you, not when there is barely any room for your broken heart.

“I kissed Namjoon.”

“WHAT?” Sieun’s jaw slams into the ground and Chayoung freezes beside her, like her joints have suddenly been welded together. They stare at you for long you might have grown a second head during it. And then the questions come, a torrent erupting. You blank for a second, and then the guilt crawls up your spine. It may only be thirteen past five in the afternoon but you definitely need a drink.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #i said this was gonna tomorrow but my brain said tonight so here we are #nobody ask me how we're gonna come back from this #this is ur fault!! #bts angst #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic

[sunflowersteves]

leaving for good || g.r.

summary || you couldn’t bare the nightly routines that Geralt tended to make with other women, so you leave.

author’s note || this is my first Geralt fic and medieval type fic so please pleaasseee go easy on me!

warnings || angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex, fluff

masterlist

You start chugging your fourth pint of brew for the night, the salty liquid dripping down your chin and onto the neatly carved wooden table.

Jaskier only raised an eyebrow at you, concerned for your well-being. Ever since you two had defeated a large turbulent Golem that wreaked havoc on a small nearby town, you had been slightly and cold. Jaskier had his suspicions that the two of you had slept together, but he was never fully sure.

You and Jaskier had become quite good friends when you joined in on their adventures. The two of you would laugh and have the best of times together, even Geralt would have a small smiled placed on his lips. 

However, he was concerned because Geralt is known for not caring about anyone or anything—certainly those who come to bed with him. He knew how Geralt could be and even though you can very much take care of yourself, he sees the toll it sets upon you.

“Haven’t you had enough?”

You ignored him and continued to chug the dizzy inducing liquor until every last drop. You slightly slammed down the now empty cup, fully drinking it down your gullet. You wiped the slightly sticky substance off of your chin and rolled your eyes at your concerned friend.

“It’ll only be enough if I’ve downed all the ale in the world.”

Jaskier sighed at your state and you were now slightly giggling at everything in sight. He was now quite sure your despair was all from the Witcher as you stared at him longingly. 

Geralt came and sat with the two of you, a brown sack of money from a bounty in his hands. He gave a couple of coins to you and Jaskier but he had the most since Roach needed to be fed and bathed.

After a weeks-long journey of riding through the countryside, Geralt finally gave in to you and Jaskier begging for a warm stay and hefty pub. All the two of you wanted was a nice warm meal and a cozy bed to sleep in.

Of course, when the three of you arrived at the small village, there was quite the talk about The Witcher ‘Geralt’ arriving to help them fight off a Golem that had been tormenting their town. Geralt would always roll his eyes at one of the townsfolk raving on about how it was destiny’s calling.

He picked up his sword and walked into the forest, much to your protests. He would always place himself straight into the mouth of danger and

“Geralt, I can fight-”

He just grunted in disapproval but you persisted, grabbing Roach’s reigns to stop him from going into the swampy vines forest. She nudged you slightly as you subconsciously patted her. This time your arguing and clamors have been loud and a large ramble about how women can fight as well as men.

“Y/n. I’m aware of this but it’s too dangerous.” He then ripped the reigns out of your hands and sauntered off into the darkened forest. You let out an exasperated sigh but Jaskier turned to you with a bright smile.

“Let’s get you a pint, my lady.”

~~

Now here you were, on your fourth pint of beer, watching as a whore flirted with Geralt across the room. That dark pit that rested in your stomach only grew.

You honestly didn’t blame her, Geralt was probably one of the prettiest men to set your eyes upon. The vast difference and breath of fresh air were most likely wonderful. She probably had lots handful of men that beat her or treated her like shit. Geralt was cut off from the world sure, but he wasn’t an asshole to women for being women.

He held a lot of respect towards women and treats them like they’re equal, which most men can’t say they do.

However, the actions that made your skin crawl and that abyss in your stomach grow was from Geralt flirting back and most of the time he followed them into rooms reserved. Sometimes, even a smile would capture his face as the women would flirt dashingly towards him. Jealousy had always coursed through your veins as he would flirt back with the woman.

Tonight had been no different from any other. A whore came over, resting her arms on top of his broad shoulders, and seductively asking him for some coin. Geralt slowly stood up and without a word, followed her into his reserved chambers.

A hiccup passed your lips and Jaskier was about to make fun of you until he saw your broken face. There were a couple of tears that had left your eyes, that sparkle that Jaskier saw in them when you laughed was no longer there.

Your eyes looked almost dull, like there was no life in them anymore. Geralt was breaking your heart every time he went to bed another woman.

“Oh, my dear, you shouldn’t let him get to you.”

A full sob escaped your throat and Jaskier moved to sit beside you on the bench. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into a small hug.

“I can’t help it, Jaskier. I love him.” A sigh escaped his lips at your confession. Even though he predicted this, he still can’t help but have sympathy for his best friend. He was getting tired of Geralt’s shenanigans with longing stares he would always send your way when you weren’t paying attention.

His arm fell slightly off of your shoulders as you straightened yourself. You furiously wiped the fresh tears that had fallen on your cheeks.

“I’m leaving. Don’t follow me. I’m going back home.”

Before Jaskier could even register what you had said, you were already more than halfway across the pub. You had even left what coin Geralt had given you to pay for your pints. Jaskier tried to call after you but it was no use as you opened the pub’s door and waltzed right out.

He quickly regained his senses and ran into the chamber's area of the pub, looking for Geralt’s room. He quickly found it from the sounds of grunts and moans. He loudly banged on the door but knew he was a rush. He barged through the door, leaving it wide open. The woman sat on top of Geralt, their bodies completely naked.

“Jaskier, what the fuck?” He ignored the crude comment and rushed out the words so quickly it was hard to decipher them.

“Y/n left. She’s gone.”

Geralt wasted no time, picking up his clothes and quickly putting them on. He had already paid the woman in full so when he was half-dressed, he ran out of the room and out of the pub. He ran over to the stables to see some of your belongings were no longer on Roach.

Your favorite snack of little bread pieces sprinkled with rosemary wasn’t in the left satchel.

Your favorite medallion that Geralt gave you when he found it in a deep dark cave when he hunted a beast sat on top of roach’s saddle, you were giving it back. His thumb grazed over the gold metal, his heart clenching at the thought of leaving.

He gave you that medallion as a courting gift, he watched as your eyes lit up and a bright smile appeared on your face. Ever since you were little you had been able to talk to snakes; they had always made a bright smile appear on your face when you spotted one. They also were sometimes handy in sticky situations.

Even though he kept the fact that he was trying to court you to himself, it didn’t hurt any less to see that you’ve left it behind. His hand curls into a fist, his grip even tighter on the medallion. He leaves Roach, running as fast as he can to the end of the village. He knew Roach was faster but at this point, he didn’t care. He just needed to see you.

He finally sees the frame of your back and it feels as if he’s running even faster, gravel scraping underneath his boots. He was able to get to you just in time before leaving the small village.

A yelp had escaped your throat as his hands spun you around so you were facing him. His breaths were in a fit of pants, white hair had sprung out from his bun, and his clothes were half-heartedly put on.

“You can’t leave.”

You quickly shoved his hands off your shoulder with a huff and rolled your eyes at the large Witcher in front of you.

“And why not?”

He didn’t say a word, his mouth was closed but his eyes were giving you a pleading look. However, you weren’t going to give in. You weren’t going to let him break your heart every time he went off with another woman.

Even though you liked the adventures, you weren’t about to let that abyss grow in your heart. You rolled your eye again at the witcher in front of you. Wasn’t he supposed to not care for anything or anyone?

“You’re unbelievable.”

You turn around, leaving him be until he spun you around once again.

“Geralt! What is going on-”

Your words were completely interrupted by a pair of soft lips that were placed upon yours. Your lips moved in sync; his hand covered your shoulder and the other was on the small of your back.

He forced his tongue into your mouth, practically aching to taste you. His tongue explored your mouth in passion, his hands moved to gently cup your face in adoration. He gently moved his head, his lips leaving yours.

“I love you.” A gasp left your lips, wide eyes were turned his way. Not a word had left your lips because you were honestly shocked. In no situation did you ever think that you would hear those three words come out of his mouth.

Your body was now fully pressed up against a tree near the village’s entrance. His broad chest and tall stature had towered over you. His face was just inches from yours, breath fanned up against your cheeks.

“I can’t sleep unless I’ve thought about the shape of your nose or your plump lips. Not a single thought passes unless it’s somehow entangled you in it. There have been weeks on end where not a single word leaves my mouth but all I want to do is talk and laugh with you for hours.”

His hands had never left your cheeks, his eyes were darting all around your face to see your expression. He couldn’t help but let hope crumble as no sound made avail from your throat. You hadn’t said a single word.

What he hadn’t known was that it was from utter shock. You never thought that the Witcher who you had fallen in love with would ever say those words back. Before he could fully pull away, your body launches itself forward into a loving kiss.

This time it was much more desperate, your hands had gone exploring from his back to his chest to his neck and his handsome face. Your kisses became needier and more passion like the two of you were singing a song.

You jumped up, wrapping your legs as Geralt caught you, his arms right under your legs to keep you stable. The two of you had never broken the kiss as he started to walk back to the pub and its chambers.

There wasn’t a need for words to be shared, not now anyway. Of course, the two of you needed to talk, to sort out your feelings. However, that was put on hold. Your love for him had burned a straight hole in your chest, the feeling of his hands and body pressed up against yours was heavenly.

And that’s all that you needed at the moment, was each other.

~~

permanent taglist:  @hailmary-yramliah @kitkatd7 @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan @teenagereadersciencenerd

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivera #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill characters #the witcher #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #geralt x y/n #jaskier #henry cavill angst #henry cavill fluff #the witcher show #the witcher netflix #medieval #medieval au #witcher geralt #geralt #witcher imagine #witcher x reader #witcher x y/n #witcher fanfiction

[chierafied]

Intervention

For @jilychallenge, July 21. Theme: Idiots in Love

Partner: The lovely and amazing @the-dream-team! 💙💙 Please go read their fun fic!

Prompt: sirius locks lily and james in a cupboard (or another enclosed space of your choosing) in an attempt to play matchmaker. shenanigans ensue.

4,728 words. Also on AO3.

---

The door of the dormitory slams open and James Potter strides in. He crosses the room quickly, throws himself on his four-poster bed, letting out a groan as his face smashes into the pillow, glasses and all.

Sirius is lounging in his own bed, enjoying the treacle tart he pilfered from the kitchens just after classes ended. Chewing on his stolen treat, he silently studies his mate’s prone figure. He can all but feel the misery radiating off of James.

There are only two things that Sirius knows can send James into such an obvious show of despair: a defeat on the Quidditch field and Lily Evans.

As it’s a Monday and the next Gryffindor game is three weeks away, Sirius is left with one option.

For a while, he wonders if he should weigh in at all. For the sake of his own sanity, it might be better to just leave James to it. Maybe go down to the Common Room and find Peter for a game of Exploding Snap.

But then his conscience pricks him, reminding him that this heartsick idiot is also his best mate.

“What’s she done this time,” Sirius drawls.

“What?” James flops on his bed and stares at Sirius, his hazel eyes dull behind his glasses.

“What has Evans done to cause this cloud of doom?” Sirius asks again, waving his hand to compass James and his misery.

“You remember that she had a date with Andrew Buchanan last Hogsmeade weekend?”

Ahh, yes. That was right. James had been moping all weekend about that and wouldn’t even agree to sneak out to the Three Broomsticks on Friday night.

“I think you mentioned something about that, yeah,” Sirius answers, thinking back to the two-hour rant he’d been subjected to that Saturday afternoon when they’d come back from Hogsmeade.

“The date went really well, apparently. They’re officially going out now.”

Sirius swallows his knee-jerk response of so what with a grimace. “I’m sorry to hear that, mate.”

He’s not, really, of course. But he is sorry that James is reduced to this pathetic miserable lump because of Evans.

“He’s not good enough for her,” James declares sullenly. “Sadly, that’s up to Evans to decide,” Sirius replies, thinking Evans could do much worse than Buchanan. He’s an OK lad, for a Ravenclaw.

“I know.” James sighs. “It’s just… hard.”

Sirius weighs his options. And though he has approached this subject before – not always successfully, either – he can’t help to voice his honest opinion.

“Look, mate… Evans is great. But maybe the two of you are better off as friends, yeah? You’ve been mooning after her for years now and have only been making yourself miserable. I think it’s time to let go, Prongs. Time to move on.”

The silence in the room is so loud that Sirius has time to think up all manner of swear words, thinking he completely bollocksed it up again.

But to his surprise, when James does reply, his voice is quiet but assenting. “Yeah. I think you’re right, Sirius.”

Glowing with righteous victory, Sirius flashes James a smile. “Don’t worry, mate, I’m here for you.”

---

The party is raucous and in a full swing when Sirius, exhausted from all the dancing, plops down on an empty sofa in the corner of the Gryffindor Common Room. He takes a long swig from his bottle of Butterbeer – which might have been spiked with good strong mead courtesy of Hagrid, but no one’s the wiser which is how Sirius prefers to keep it.

Across the room, at the edge of the area designated as the dance floor, James is standing, his arm casually slung around Bethany Narang’s shoulders. He is giddy with his Quidditch victory, though that is probably not the only reason he’s let Bethany stick to his side all evening. 

Prongs is finally doing it. Moving on. Sirius couldn’t be prouder and salutes him with his bottle.

He’s taking another long pull of the delicious mix of alcohol when the sofa dips down. Lily Evans slumps beside him, tucking her feet under her as she curls into the corner of the sofa.

“Rare to see you out of the action,” she quips once she’s settled.

Sirius slants her a glance. “Needed to take a breather. You’re usually out there getting your dance on, too.”

“I did, for a while. But I’m tired now.”

She looks tired, too, resting her cheek against the armrest. 

“It’s ok to bow out early, Evans. No shame in that.”

“I know. I’m going in a bit.”

Silence settles over them. Sirius sips his drink. Lily rests. It’s peaceful in their little corner. Companionable.

And they have a good view of the rest of the room.

James bends his head to Bethany, whispers something in her ear. Bethany giggles, tilts her head.

Get it, Prongs, Sirius silently urges him, taking a sip of his mead-enhanced Butterbeer.

And he does.

“Funny,” Lily comments with a chuckle. “I never took Potter as the PDA sort.”

Her voice is light and airy, brimming with amusement. And as she watches Prongs snog Bethany in the full view of the entire Common Room, eliciting cheers and hoots and laughter and teasing from the crowd around them, Sirius watches her.

Lily’s lips are curved in a smile but something about it doesn’t seem quite right to Sirius. Her eyes, even in the dim room, seem duller and darker. Something lingers there, which Sirius recognises only too well.

“Neither did I,” he replies at last. “But it’s good to see him moving on, right?”

Lily’s smile twists. “Yeah. It’s great.”

Silence returns, but now it has an edge to it. Brittleness overlaying the earlier camaraderie.

Lily uncurls from her cosy position.

“Well, I guess I should go get some sleep. Good night, Sirius.”

“Night, Lily,” he wishes her, but she’s already walking away.

Sirius’ gaze trails her as she hurries through the crowd, giving a wide berth to James and Bethany, who’re still lost in one another.

Sirius scowls, uneasiness coiling in the pit of his stomach. He can’t quite shake that look in Lily’s eyes. What it might have meant. And whether he might after all be in the wrong.

---

It’s a sunny and warm April day and Sirius is in a great mood. There’s nothing better than being out with his lads and it’s a nice change to stroll the main street of Hogsmeade in bright daylight, no matter how much fun it is to sneak out in the evenings. They’ve just raided Honeydukes and left with their bags bulging. Remus and Peter have split off to go visit the book shop and the post office so Sirius is left alone with James to wander the village. A group of girls exits Madam Puddifoot’s down the street. Bethany Narang is among them and perks up at the sight of them, smiling and waving at James.

Sirius swallows a snort. Bethany has dropped more than one hint about the Hogsmeade weekend being a great opportunity for a date, but Prongs has brushed them off in good humour. 

Now, too, he waves back to Bethany and then turns to Sirius. “How about Zonko’s?”

“Sure.”

They enter the joke shop, Sirius trailing after James. “You know, you probably could still snag that date with Bethany if you wanted, she seems interested.”

“Nah,” James replies as he meanders through the shop. “She’s nice and all but I’m not really interested.” 

“Uhhuh,” Sirius says, wondering if his assessment of Prongs moving on was too hastily drawn. Still, he hasn’t really mentioned Evans once for the past week so that must be progress, right?

They browse through the shop but nothing really catches their eye.

“Should we go to the Three Broomsticks?”

“Yeah,” James agrees. “Remus and Peter will probably finish their errands soon, too.”

Back on the main street Sirius spots the dark red hair right away and grimaces. Lily Evans is walking ahead of them, hand in hand with Andrew Buchanan. They’re laughing together and Sirius slants a glance at James. 

His gaze is fixed on the couple, his jaw clenched as he watches them.

“Evans looks happy,” Sirius carefully comments.

“She does, yeah,” James replies. 

They walk a few more steps in silence.

“I’m glad. She deserves to be happy,” James continues.

They’re almost at the Three Broomsticks when James speaks up one last time. 

“I’m happy for her.”

Behind his back, Sirius rolls his eyes. The strain in Prongs’ voice belies his words. 

And later, as all four of them are together at a table, sharing drinks and laughs and enjoying themselves immensely, Sirius can’t help noticing that James’ gaze keeps darting to the corner table where Evans sits with her boyfriend.

Much as his mate is trying to move on, it seems to be easier said than done.

---

It’s Monday evening and Sirius is in a storage room in the dungeons, organising the items stored and refilling the jars and boxes and bottles littering the shelves.

Lily is in the adjoining Potion’s Classroom doing preparatory work for tomorrow’s lessons at Slughorn’s desk.

“I should get assigned detention with you more often, Evans,” Sirius quips, calling out to the next room. “This is the cushiest detention I’ve ever been in.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lily replies. “Professor Slughorn intervened with Professor McGonagall. I figure he felt bad that we got into trouble because of Slytherins.”

“I’ve got into plenty of fights before with Slytherins and Slughorn’s done nothing to cushion the detention. So where I’m standing it’s all because of you.”

“Well, it’s all because of me and my blood status that the Slytherins jumped at us in the first place,” Lily says, her voice wry. 

“I won’t let you hog all the credit for that,” Sirius counters. “I’m not very popular among their ilk either.”

“Not after that masterful Inpendiment Hex you aren’t. You’re a good partner to have in battle, Sirius.”

“Likewise. You’re quick on your feet and your wandwork is excellent.”

“Thank you. I’m glad to hear that. Especially after the scolding I got from Andrew.”

“Why would your boyfriend give you a hard time for getting jumped by a group of hex-happy Slytherins?” Sirius asks, baffled. He moves to the doorway of the storage room and leans against the doorframe to watch Evans.

“I think mostly he got angry because he was worried I might have got hurt,” she says. “He’s really sweet. But he does not approve of fighting.”

“You didn’t start it, though.”

“I know. I guess Andrew feels I shouldn’t have reacted with violence.”

Sirius snorts. Deep inside him, the bitter anger of experience simmers. “There’s no reasoning with bigots.” 

“I could’ve walked away, I suppose.”

Sirius shakes his head. “No. Someone could’ve walked away, yeah. But not you. It’s not how you’re built, Evans. How we’re built.”

Their eyes meet from across the room and Lily smiles.

“Thanks, Sirius. That makes me feel better.”

“Don’t mention it.” Sirius shrugs.

Lily turns back to the Potion prep.

“Sorry for unloading you like that. I was a bit upset since it was the closest to a row I’ve had so far with Andrew. He’s been really great, but I guess there will always be things we disagree on.”

“Yeah, that’s only natural,” Sirius says. “You’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure we will,” Lily agrees.

Or maybe they won’t. But Evans will manage either way, of that Sirius is sure.

And suddenly, he is taken back to the moment of miserable moping Prongs imparting him the news of how Lily had started dating. James’ sullen voice echoes in his head. ‘He’s not good enough for her.’

Now, a part of Sirius can’t help but agree.

---

Sirius lounges in a hammock in the Potter’s back garden, reading a book and enjoying the sunshine. It is quiet and peaceful and relaxing, which is all well and good… But inside, Sirius is starting to itch a little bit. Reaching that part of summer holidays when that giddy sense of freedom is starting to pass and there’s so much time and yet somehow very little to do.

Maybe he can talk James into going to visit Muggle London with him someday soon. They could go to the cinema, that would be grand.

And as if thinking of Prongs summons him, Sirius’ peaceful reading time is shattered when James strides into the garden.

He’s wearing a shit-eating grin and waving a letter in the air.

“Sirius! You’ll never guess what happened.”

“OK, then I won’t.”

“Just got a letter from Marlene, she says hi –”

“Tell her hi back then.”

“– and she says Evans broke up with Buchanan.”

“What shocking news,” Sirius replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It was only a matter of time, really.”

“What?”

“I had a feeling, back when Lily and I were stuck on detention together and she told about their fight. Different opinions and personalities.” Sirius shrugs.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Why would I have? You told me just last week, and I quote, that you were ‘totally over Evans’.” 

Though for someone who’d voiced such a lofty claim, James is looking much too happy about Lily’s breakup, in Sirius’ opinion

“Well, I am! Obviously,” James insists. Sirius remains unconvinced. “But we’re still friends, right, Evans and I! So I still want to know how she’s doing.”

“You should practice holding your grin in check before you go and offer her your heartfelt consolations,” Sirius tells Prongs.

He shakes his head and stalks off.

Sirius gets back to his book.

Three weeks later, another letter arrives, this time causing much more mayhem. Sirius is skimming through the lines of his own letter when James bursts into his room. 

“Did you get yours, too, Prongs?” he asks, not even bothering to look up from the parchment as he’s busy taking in the book list.

“I got more than I bargained for,” James says, flopping down next to him on the bed.

Sirius frowns and turns to slant him a glance. “What do you mean.”

“Look at this.”

Sirius does. He stares at the gleaming object on James’ palm, trying to make sense of it because surely it can’t be what it looks like.

“Is that a Head Boy pin?” he asks.

“Yes,” James says.

“And it was enclosed with your letter?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure they haven’t made a mistake?”

“Yes.”

“Bloody hell, Prongs. Are you planning on going all respectable on me, now?”

“I guess I’ll have to be,” he says and tugs at his hair as he often does when nervous.

Sirius can’t blame him. Poor bloke, having so much responsibility shoved onto his shoulders. Still, better Prongs than him. At least Prongs will likely do a decent job of it. Although…

“Do you know who the Head Girl is?”

“Yeah, actually, they told me that in the letter too.” James’ fingers are making even more of a mess of his hair and he isn’t quite meeting Sirius’ eyes so he knows the answer already.

“It’s Lily, isn’t it,” he says, and when James nods, Sirius isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

---

Less than a month into the autumn term, Sirius is deep in the stacks in the Hogwarts library, actually trying to get homework done for once – and if he can look up some charms and hexes he can appropriate for pranking purposes, all the better. He can multitask. But his diligent work is rudely interrupted by Lily Evans. 

She sits at his table without an invitation and leans her elbows on the table. "You're a hard man to find."

“I’m not trying to be found, I’m trying to work,” he replies, trying to ignore her.

“Well, can that wait for a bit?”

Sirius’ head snaps up with that. Lily Evans, encouraging him to put off homework? Sure enough, there is something troubled lurking in her green eyes and she’s biting her lip.

“What do you need, Lily?” he asks, his tone gentler now.

“Just a moment or two of your time. And some… information.”

“Information on what?

Her cheeks look a little flushed now and there’s a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of Sirius’ stomach. Surely, she can’t…

“James used to fancy me, right? I mean he even asked me out that one time in the fifth year though I don’t think he was being serious… But I wasn’t just imagining it, right?”

“You weren’t imagining it, he was pretty into you,” Sirius replies, feeling much like a deer in headlights at this entire conversation.

“But he must have moved on by now, right? I mean he still can’t… Can he?”

Sirius pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering what dastardly deed he has done to earn this privileged position of being a soundboard for Prongs’ and Lily’s respective love lives – or lacks thereof.

He levels a stare at Lily and crosses his arms. “Why do you want to know?” 

“I broke up with Andrew during the summer break. After three weeks or so back home at my parents’ I just suddenly realised I didn’t miss him at all and that isn’t really a good sign so I figured… Anyway, I got my Hogwarts letter at last. I got my Head Girl pin. And I read that James Potter would be the Head Boy. And that’s when I realised I had feelings.”

That last word comes out as a hiss and Sirius raises his eyebrow.

“You have feelings for James,” he echoes, wondering at the universe’s perverse sense of humour.

“Yes. And I don’t know what to do about them. Or if I should do anything about them. I mean I don’t even know if there’s a chance that…”

“Look, Lily,” Sirius cuts in. He’s had enough. “I’m sure this all is a shock to you and I understand that you want a confirmation about certain things before you can decide what to do about it all but you’re going about this all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t be talking to me. It’s James you need to seek out and have a chat with.”

Her shoulders hunch. She deflates in front of his eyes and gives a slow nod.

“You’re right. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

Lily gets up and slinks out.

And though Sirius doesn’t regret his words and knows he’s in the right, there are pricks of guilt plaguing him when he returns to his homework.

---

A month goes by. A whole month of stolen glances and longing stares, of too-loud laughter to one another’s jokes. Of flushed cheeks and biting lips, of mussed-up hair and awkward grins. Of gravitating towards each other’s company. Sitting together in class, heading off to Head Student meetings and Prefect meetings, sharing a sofa in the Common Room.

A whole month of small meaningless conversations, of yearning not given a voice, of a thousand important words going unspoken.

Lily Evans hasn’t talked to James.

And after a whole month of their nonsense, Sirius is fed up with both of them.

---

Sirius opens the supply closet and James strides in; starts to rummage through the shelves.

“What kind of a prank did you have in mind?” he asks, rifling through all the piles of assorted items stuffed into storage and then promptly forgotten about. “Replace the regular ink with vanishing ink? Put an Anti-Cheating Charm on all these spare rolls of parchment here? Oh, maybe we could hex the quills to –”

“Expelliarmus!”

James’ wand is yanked from his hand. It soars through the air to Sirius’ waiting palm.

James whips around to frown at his mate.

“What the hell, Sirius?”

“This is for your own good, Prongs,” Sirius says. Then he shuts the door and locks James into the closet.

---

Lily sets down the textbook and scowls at Sirius. “Missing? What do you mean James is missing?”

“I mean James isn’t here or in the dorm and no one knows where he’s gone. He could be locked in a supply closet for all that I know,” Sirius says, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. “Anyway, I thought you might want to help me look for him since it isn’t a good look for the Head Boy to be wandering about after curfew.”

“Give me a second, I’m coming.”

Lily runs up the stairs to her dorm room and leaves her textbook there. As she’s heading out the door, she grabs a pouch off of a side table and stuffs it into her pocket. She rushes back down to the Common Room, where Sirius is tapping his foot.

“Let’s go,” she tells him and Sirius jumps to match her step as they climb out the portrait hole accompanied by the sleepy grumblings of the Fat Lady.

“Where could that idiot have got off to,” Lily wonders out loud, tucking her wand behind her ear.

“Let’s try this way first,” Sirius suggests.

Eventually, they stroll along the abandoned fourth-floor corridor, when a muffled sound around the corner catches their attention.

“Come on. You’ve had your laugh, you can let me out now.”

Lily turns to share a quick glance with Sirius. “That’s James.”

She sprints ahead, rounds the corner and zeroes in on the rattling handle of a supply closet just a few yards out.

Lily shakes her head in disbelief and then she’s running over to grab the handle.

“James? We’ll get you out, just give me a moment.”

“Lily? Oh, thank Merlin.”

Lily reaches for her wand – only to realise it’s no longer there, tucked behind her ear.

“What?” she stammers, turning around.

Sirius is holding her wand and pointing his own at her.

“Sorry, Lily, but needs must.”

“Sirius, you bloody bastard!” comes James’ muffled yell from the closet.

And then quicker than Lily’s brain can catch up with what’s going on, the closet door springs open and a well-aimed shove has her stumble against furious James.

They collide and stagger – and behind them, the closet door ominously bangs shut, followed by the definite click of the lock.

“Well, bugger,” James mutters in her ear and Lily can’t help but to agree.

---

James thought being locked in a supply closet was bad, but being locked in a supply closet with Lily Evans is infinitely worse. Her floral scent is teasing his nose and in the enclosed space he can feel the heat radiating from her body and it’s all very distracting. It’s hard to remember that he’s completely over his silly old crush. The darkness isn’t helping either. Evans is standing close, but he can only make out an outline of her, hand stuffed in her pocket. He can feel the weight of her stare on him, it’s making his neck tingle.

Rather than deal with any of that and those pesky fluttery emotions he’s most definitely not feeling, James turns and slams his fist at the door.

“Enough, Sirius! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“With me?” His incredulous voice comes through the door. “What the hell is wrong with you two idiots? I told you, Lily, all you had to do was to have one conversation but no!”

James glances at Lily. “What is he talking about?” he whispers, but Lily only shakes her head.

“So you two stay there and listen. Prongs, you’ve been pining after Evans for years now. It’s pathetic and we all know it and no matter how many times you tell me you’re over her, it’s painfully obvious you aren’t. Lily, you know I was right and you know you’re overdue a very honest conversation so just acknowledge your feelings and talk already for my sanity’s sake! Get it over with. I’ll be back for you in the morning.”

James’ ears seem to be ringing and he’s a little light-headed. The muffled sound of Sirius’ retreating footsteps is deafening in the thick silence shrouding them.

Flustered, James buries his fingers in his hair and slumps against the door. “I’m really sorry about this, Lily. He’s clearly lost his bloody mind.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Lily sighs. With a rustle of robes, she sits down on the stone floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. “He’s right, actually. And if either of us owes an apology for this mess, it’s me.”

James slides down to sit on the floor as well, his long legs stretched out. He frowns at her vague outline, wishing he could see her expression. Maybe that would help him understand.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something I need to tell you, James. I just haven’t been able to. I’m not sure when it actually started. Probably it’s been going on a while, I just haven’t been aware of it. But then, last summer there just came a moment when I realised what had happened.”

James’ heart is beating faster now, his breath caught in his throat. He thinks he knows what Lily is talking about, but it can’t be right. He doesn’t dare to hope.

Lily’s voice is soft in the darkness. “You’re funny and fit and brilliant and sweet and kind and clever and brave and bold. So it’s no wonder that I fancy you.”

Time stops and the world tilts. James’ mind can’t quite process the words but his heart is singing and pure emotion balloons in his chest. A victorious roar rushing through his veins. 

James’ brain is still stuck on trying to catch up with Lily’s confession so there is no conscious thinking involved. He reaches for her in the dark and pulls her close. Her fingers trail up his arm, her hand settles on his shoulder. Her hip brushes against his raised knee. His hand finds the small of her back.

Her breath is warm, that teasing floral scent intoxicating, the bare skin of her neck like silk under his fingers.

And then his lips crash against hers or maybe she leans in to press hers against his – it doesn’t really matter because it’s a kiss of James’ dreams. The one he has yearned for so very long and the reality is so far beyond anything he has imagined. He didn’t think such a perfect kiss was possible. And in that moment, and all the moments that will follow, he loves Lily Evans all the more.

---

Lily shifts her weight, trying to settle. She doesn’t want to move, leaning against James and resting her head on his shoulder is the happiest place she’s ever been.

But the stone floor is hard and cold and her bum is growing numb.

So she squeezes James’ hand and asks: “Do you want to wait until morning?”

“I mean I can’t complain about the company but I wouldn’t want to spend a whole night stuck in a supply closet. Not that we have much choice.”

“Well…” Lily drawls, slipping her hand out of his. “We do, actually.”

“What?”

Lily gets up and takes a few short steps to the door. From the pocket of her robe she pulls out a small pouch and reveals the lockpick she’s been carrying with her. 

And then she sets to work. She can feel James’ gaze bore to her back as she carefully jiggles at the tumblers in the lock. Once they each click to place, she straightens and swings the door open.

In the torchlight streaming in from the corridor, she meets James’ eyes. Their hazel depts are muddy with mixed emotion – awe, amusement, incredulity.

“Are you telling me you could have done that the whole time?”

“Yes.” Lily shrugs. “But then, Sirius went to a lot of trouble and he was right about us needing to have that long-overdue discussion.”

James’ grin is wide, his hazel eyes warm in a way that makes Lily’s stomach flop.

“Lily?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you again now.”

She smiles bright enough to light up the night and steps closer. His arms come around her just as she threads her fingers in his hair. As promised, his lips claim hers – slow, sweet and lingering.

It's the kind of kiss she can lose herself in, a kiss that makes the world fall away, a kiss that bends time so that five seconds feel like forever. It's the kind of a kiss that makes Lily fall in love with James Potter all over again.

---

End.

#jily #jily fanfic #jilychallenge #the dream team #idiots in love #chie writes #fic: JL

[obae-me]

Beneath Still Waters- CH 1

Miracle Meeting

Word count: 3600

Summary: It’s the first of many strange meetings you’ve yet to come across. As you feel you’ve hit rock bottom, someone comes along to give you an opportunity. Feeling like you have no other choice, you pack a bag and head to a town known as Old Midev, the place where your adventures will soon begin. 

Tags: (Mostly) Human AU, second person view, gender neutral reader, I do not endorse always following the advice of a stranger, but for trope purposes, it’s fun.

They say that despite the appearance of calm surfaces, you should always be aware of the danger of currents churning just beneath them. There’s a point people warn you about, for once you drift too far from shore, there’s a good chance you’ll never be able to come back, even for all your fights and struggles. The best thing for you to do at that point is move with the flow, all the better to keep your head above water. Is that what your life had come to at this point? Had you been swept along by unseen forces, working to barely keep afloat? 

A little raindrop made its way down the glass pane, weaving and shifting past other stagnant dots of moisture. The trail it left formed small beads before it drifted down too far, disappearing from view. The locomotive ticked and churned along its path, unaffected by the storm outside. You sighed, changing your posture after having sat in your current one too long. Everything in your body was stiff, your muscles were sore, but most of all you were undeniably nervous. Was this a mistake? You wondered. Had it been too good to be true? But at this point...was there a better alternative? In all honesty, your life was at a low point. A very low point. Due to circumstances beyond your control, you’d lost your job, been told you had to find a new place to live by the next month, and finding any sort of stability financially, mentally, or otherwise seemed nigh on impossible. 

That was, till about two days ago. Trying to scrounge up any semblance of peace, you’d taken a trip to a local park. Disheveled, heartbroken, you sat on a bench, pondering if soon you’d have to sleep on this very seat in the near future. At that point, it seemed like a very real possibility. Little kids threw balls at each other and screamed in joy, the birds around you sang without a care. Everyone else looked happy. Everyone else didn’t seem to struggle as you did. And while it seemed silly, you couldn’t help but seem envious of everything. Envious of the adults who seemed to have everything together. Envious of the free birds. Even envious of the little flowers planted in their permanent little pots. 

“Mind if I sit here?” A gentle voice snapped you out of your thoughts, some worry racing through your mind, wondering if the stranger had noticed how bitterly you watched the passersby. The man was a kind looking soul; bright blue eyes, dark-toned skin, well-kept clothes, a shining smile on his attractive features. A soft breeze ruffled his curly brown hair. He pulled his ivory jacket closer around him, adjusting the blue scarf around his neck, the ends of the fabric billowing behind his shoulders. Something about him struck you as otherworldly, but you couldn’t place it. 

Aware of the way you looked compared to him, you scooted a little closer to the edge of the bench, straightening your own clothes in an attempt to make your hoodie and sweatpants a bit more presentable. “Uh...sure…” 

As he sat down, he thanked you only to apologize right after. “I’m sorry, I just had a feeling...maybe you could use some company.” Had you really looked that pathetic? Like a wounded animal left on the side of the road and calling out for help? You refrained from making a comment, hunching your shoulders instead. The stranger tilted his head at you, then lifted his chin to observe the puffy clouds drift up above your heads. “A beautiful day,” he expressed. “Don’t you think?” Really? Out of everything that could’ve possibly happened today, a charming yet odd stranger basically asked how you thought the weather was? Was it a good day? Was today, a day you’d been handed two rejected applications, a day you’d been hunting for anyone to take you in, a day you felt as if nothing could get worse, a good day? “It doesn’t have to be a good day,” he started, speaking as if he’d directly read your thoughts, “For it to be a beautiful one.” The breath in your lungs stopped for a moment as you observed him with semi-wide eyes. How did he…? The man simply shot you a sympathetic grin. “Ah, sorry for the assumptions. It’s just, in my line of work, you tend to see a lot of people sport the same expression. I couldn’t help but notice it on you when I passed by.” 

Some heat poured into your cheeks. So you had been that easy to read. A small family walked by in front of you, one of the younger children running too far ahead. Their guardians hurriedly reminded them not to go too far. Once they passed, you straightened your slouched posture, taking a deep breath. “In your line of work?” 

“I’m a doctor,” he explained. 

“Ah…” How much despair had he seen, how many grief-stricken people had left such an impression on him that he could simply tell how someone was feeling just by their face? Was he an empath or just observant? It doesn’t have to be a good day for it to be a beautiful one, he’d said. The leaves off the trees shone different shades of green, some shifting to warm hues in preparation for the approaching autumn, rustling under the beams of sun branching out from behind the clouds that rolled past the grey-blue sky. The air was crisp enough for jackets, but not yet cold enough for coats. You could smell the aroma of freshly baked goods, the air carrying the scent from the bakery just across the street. It was...rather stunning. “I’m going to be homeless.” The truth slipped out of you before you could process even moving your lips. With it, your emotions followed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been working towards has failed. My efforts amount--they amount to nothing! I don’t even know where to go or-or what to do anymore.” A choked back sob made your voice waver. “I’m sorry...I don’t even know you, I--I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just shared all that with a stranger.” The tears slowly began to dry as you brushed them away with the back of your hand. 

“Dr. Matthews,” he stated. “But you can call me Simeon.” 

You blinked, sniffling a little as you glanced quizzically at him. “Huh?” 

He rummaged for a few things in the confines of his pockets. With an outstretched hand, he offered you two things. One, a tissue, something you accepted with more than a little sheepishness as you dabbed the end of your nose with it. The second was a business card. It was a white and rather professional looking little paper with gold lettering. The name and title ‘Dr. Simeon Matthews’ was printed on the front, along with his email, business phone number, and website address. “Now I’m not a total stranger.” He smiled earnestly, and something about the idea of a doctor easily convinced that simply sharing a name would immediately make you acquaintances let a bubble of amusement float to the top of your mind. 

“Simeon?” You repeated, and he nodded to confirm you’d gotten it right. The vowels slid past your lips. “It’s a nice name.” 

He beamed at the compliment. “Thank you.” His long legs shifted and his hands fidgeted in his lap as he struggled with an internal thought. “Tell me...have you heard of Old Midev?”  You hadn’t. In fact, you couldn’t even tell what he was referring to by name alone. A book? A show? An illness? “It’s a little old town quite a ways from here, but it’s where I grew up. It’s so small most maps don’t even bother displaying it,” he chuckled. Homesickness stood out behind his eyes, his smile a lonely one. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been home...Do you like house-sitting?” His question left you stunned, and a pit formed in your stomach. You could connect the dots. Was he inferring what you thought he was? 

“Simeon!” A high voice turned both your heads. A child about the age of ten or twelve was awkwardly running towards the bench with a little plastic container in his hands. Golden hair bobbed across his forehead as he stood before the man and presented the container; a little cupcake with pink frosting and pearl-like sprinkles dwelled inside. From under the kid’s blue jacket sleeves, you spotted bandages as well as a medical bracelet covering his wrists. “I managed to get one! They let me watch them make it fresh! Doesn’t it look delicious?” 

“It looks amazing, Luke!” Simeon addressed the pale child. “But remember what I told you about running?” 

Luke huffed and raised his nose. “I’m old enough to buy this by myself! I can handle running a little.” 

“I just want to be cautious is all,” Simeon assured him. The doctor used a hand to gesture towards the kid. “This is Luke, he’s a patient of mine.” Your heart quickly sank. It explained the bracelet, why Luke looked too pale, why his bright tufts seemed so thin. Simeon noticed your face quickly drain, and he playfully ruffled Luke’s hair. “He’s been a fighter, but it’ll end up being moot if you waste all your energy running around like a rabid chihuahua!” 

Luke, affronted, swatted Simeon’s hand away and fixed the stray strands. “I’m not a chihuahua!” There was fire in him yet. He pulled the cupcake box closer to his chest like he had to protect it. His sweet innocence and their wholesome dynamic let a smile curl across your face, something that hadn’t happened to you for a while. “Who’s your friend, Simeon?” 

The man hesitated. He didn’t know how to explain that you two had literally just met, and your name had yet to be announced. He’d probably refrained from asking in the event it would make you uncomfortable. You drifted your sight between the two of them, the sense of unease devoid from your intuition. Usually you could trust your gut on sketchy strangers. The two of them felt warm, safe, strangely familiar, like you’d been fated to cross paths. Some faith in your humanity was restored, and as you looked at Luke, you remembered that other people were suffering too. If he could, you too could fight a little longer. With a little sigh, you let some of the heavy weight of hopelessness slide off your shoulders, and you shared your name. 

And that was simply the beginning of your journey. A meeting of miracles. 

Simeon had asked you again how you felt about house-sitting, and before he took off with Luke, he encouraged you to give the number on his card a call once you’d thought it over. Now here you were, on a train to this town of his, doing something potentially reckless. Old Midev...small alright. After you’d double checked Simeon’s doctorate claims, you’d searched this town. It did exist, but it took you a while to find it. For the longest time, the only result that would show up were some crackhead conspiracy posts on a mystic sea creature written by someone calling themselves The Sorcerer. There was only a lake in that town, nothing really seaworthy about it. Nothing really note-worthy about it, in fact. From the overhead map view, you could see a school, a library, a park, a gym, a grocery store, a few other scattered businesses--basically the bare minimum--and that was it. There were only about 800 people, and even that was slowly declining as residents moved away. But in that town held the potential of some support, a shelter, some hope, at least until you could get back on your own two feet. 

The train buckled a bit, the speed starting to decline. You picked your head up, eyes heavy as you’d almost begun to nod off. Only now did your heart begin to pound. New people. A new environment. Would you be able to tell people you were basically someone’s charity case? That you were going to be squatting in someone’s empty home till you could sort yourself out? Groaning, you tapped your feet against the floor to get your nerves out. It took about another ten minutes before the train came to a complete stop. The luggage you’d brought with you resided in a single large suitcase in the proper compartment. Everything else you owned you had boxed up and placed in a storage unit in your old city. 

If the station you stepped out onto was a testament to what the town was like, you could see that it truly lived up to the name Old Midev. The train had pulled next to the only station in town. It almost seemed as if the station itself was built before the rails, and they conveniently converted it into a station as an afterthought. It looked more like a barn than anything. A little red wooden building with rusty red walls and white trim that had begun to chip and grey with time. The platform was decorated with log benches, carved animal statues, and barrels that had been cut in half to serve as flower planters. There was a nice little overhead to keep people--and you--from standing out in open weather. Even though it was still raining, it had lessened to a light sprinkle. As you tried to move, your luggage quickly got snagged on a nail sticking out from the creaking floorboards underneath you. With a tug, you got it free. The pistons to the train hissed as they prepared to shut the doors behind you. It’s your last chance to turn around. It’ll be hard to get out of this if you stay, you told yourself. And yet you stood your ground, watching the train start to chug away. 

Simeon had given you some insight into a few things before he’d so graciously purchased your ticket for you. One, he told you that you were welcome to stay as long as you needed. Yes, this town housed his home, and yet his work had him traveling constantly, so there was no one there to look after it. Two, his extra set of keys was in a compartment behind a wall plaque with a proverb on it. And three, a friend of his would be waiting at the station when you arrived to help take you to the house you’d be staying at. Only...you were seemingly the only living soul around. Swiveling your head to observe the area around you, you only further confirmed this. There was no one else here. No one was sitting down, no one was inside the building when you peeked in the windows. Being alone in...such an unfamiliar place...out in the middle of nowhere. Your blood started to run cold. Should you have done more background checks on Simeon? Yes, there was a website and a secretary and Luke and everything...but maybe it had all been staged! Was it all fake? Did you make a mistake? What were you even doing hopping on a train to come all the way out here?! Sure you had joked about dropping your entire life to move to a desolate place and change the way you lived, but you never thought it would be this frightening in the moment!

“Hey.” The monotone voice of someone behind you made you shout. You quickly turned, placing your suitcase in front of you in the event you needed to use it as a shield. You’d brought a self defense keychain with you and hidden it in your sleeve. Up until now, you hadn’t had to use it yet...but you would if you were desperate. There before you, occupying the space you could’ve sworn was empty, was a man; ripped jeans, dark circles under his eyes about as dark as the large sweatshirt he was wearing. Floppy purple hair with frosted ends hovered in front of his vision. He had a chain around his neck, a dirty look across his face, and a strange intense stance. You were dead. You knew it. Somehow you’d been fooled into coming here, and now you were about to be killed. “Are you the person Simeon sent?” 

Oh...was this the friend Simeon had talked about? Your nerves were still on edge, but you found it a little easier to breathe. “Y-yes...are you…” 

“Yeah. He sent me here to pick you up. I’m kinda late, I-” He was interrupted by his own large yawn. “I overslept. But it’s whatever.” Wasn’t it already dipping into the late afternoon? There was still some trepidation inside you, and he must’ve finally noticed your defensive stance. “Oh. Simeon told me to say ‘seraph’...I think it was the word.”  Seraph had been Simeon’s little safety measure to try and ease your anxiety and to prove who to trust. It was such a random little word, you’d doubted anyone could come up with it without being told by Simeon first. Your shoulders loosened a bit. Although, still...not to stereotype...but you found it interesting that a character like Simeon would be friends with someone like...this person before you. He appeared as if he’d torn up his entire wardrobe with a set of knives and yet looked entirely comfortable about it. Like...soft-emo-core. And yet their clashing attire wasn’t what bothered you...it was Simeon’s angelic nature vs...this person’s apathetic attitude. Well, who were you to judge? Simeon just always threw more surprises at you. 

“Yeah. That was the word.” You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. “Thanks for coming to pick me up. I wouldn’t know left from right here.” 

His blank face managed a little laugh. “Most people don’t. Anyway, come on, my brother has the car running.” He already started walking off, not even bothered to check to make sure you were following. You muttered some curses in your head before dragging your heavy suitcase behind you, trying not to trip on the uneven platform. 

“Your brother?” 

“Yeah, I don’t like driving,” he replied, kicking a few stray rocks as he hopped off the platform and onto an unpaved road. A large four-door red pickup truck was idling a few feet ahead. Through the darkened window, you could see another man--the brother, you pieced together--eating behind the wheel. You grimaced. Getting inside a vehicle with two people you didn’t know was exactly the sort of thing you’d been told not to ever do. The one time your escort actually looked back was the time you’d hesitated. “What,” he smirked. “You think we’re going to murder you or something?” 

You stopped in your tracks. “Maybe! I don’t know you!” Your accusatory tone came out of nowhere. “You still...Simeon told me the name of the person coming to get me. You haven’t told me your name.” 

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth. Even if he’d told you, you weren’t sure you'd fully believe him. The main factor that contributed to some trust was all thanks to the person who rolled down the window of the truck, swallowing another handful of fries. “Belphie! Why didn’t you help them with their suitcase?” The name was right. Simeon had told you the person coming to get you would’ve been called Belphie. Strange name. Much like the password, you doubted anyone would’ve just made up a name like that on the spot. 

“Eh. I didn’t feel like it. It looks heavy,” Belphie admitted. You almost glared at him. What is with this guy?

The other man opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He was wearing a tracksuit. Red jacket and matching crimson pants, both of which had black stripes running vertically up the sides. He was wearing a black shirt underneath, a little bright stain of some sort smudged on his chest, probably some condiment from what he’d been eating. Unlike his brother, he had bright red hair and an expressive face, although his voice shared the same consistent and unwavering deep tone like his sibling. He stepped towards you, almost giving you a heart attack when you realized just how tall and muscular he was. God help any creature that dared to upset him. When he moved his arm in your direction, you felt faint, but then he simply grasped your luggage with one hand and plucked it up from the ground, settling it gently in the bed of the truck. 

He turned on his feet towards you, Belphie slinking away to get into the passenger seat of the car without even offering to help. “You’re MC, right? Simeon told us some about you.” The doctor hadn’t known you for very long, so the ‘some’ must’ve been the whole...rock bottom explanation. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to point behind him. “That’s my twin, Belphie.” Twins? They didn’t exactly strike you as such just on an observational standpoint, but it’s not as if twins were always identical. “Sorry about him. He gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

“It’s okay…” You mustered up a polite grin. 

“You can call me Beel.” Beel opened one of the backdoors to the car, quickly clearing the backseat by shoving old takeout bags into one slightly bigger bag before settling it on one spot on the floor, looking a bit proud of his swift cleaning job. “Hop in, MC. Let’s bring you to Old Midev.” 

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #human au #mostly #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me beel #obey me belphie

[melancholymaz]

UNFORESEEN (3)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader (past), Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Tony Stark x reader.

Warnings: Steve x Natasha fluff and angst, reader x Natasha fluff also reader on a date!

Summary: Y/N starts to move on from her relationship with Natasha, but Natasha can’t help but be stuck in a pit of despair as things start coming back to her.

The early morning sun peeks through the blinds, the sound of cars and early birds come through the large windows. A strong arm sits on her waist as the large body lays behind her, his hot breath fanning on the back of her neck, a feeling sits deep in her body, a feeling of regret and guilt. Guilt for feeling content in that moment considering the heartbreak she caused to be in that situation. The red head knows that the other members of the team ask themselves if she feels bad for what she did to Y/N, and the answer has always been the same. Yes. She thinks about it every day, and can still see the pain in the Y/C/Hs eyes when she saw the couple together for the first, and tears spring to her eyes if she always thinks about it for too long. It’s been 6 months since the gala where Y/N admitted to Natasha she was going to propose. Natasha may have another body to love and appreciate, but she never forgets the woman who not only she loved but who loved her back with no regrets. The way she loves Steve is so completely different to the way she loved Y/N. Steve and her’s relationship was built off of getting through a bad time together, finding a new light to see and really seeing who that person really was. But with Y/N, it was meeting someone by accident, them getting to know a complete fake, then still trusting and finding love in someone despite finding out about their real past. Steve knew Natasha’s past wasn’t pretty and that loving someone like her was going to be difficult and Natasha would be lying if she said Steve didn’t struggle to love her properly, but with Y/N it almost came effortlessly for her to love Nat, she handled every nightmare, bad days and Natasha’s distant time-periods almost perfectly and never made Natasha feel bad for the consequences of her traumatising upbringing. Steve can sometimes get frustrated when Nat gets distant after a bad mission, and Nat would sometimes find herself staring at the elevator button to Y/N’s floor contemplating on whether or not she should take comfort from her ex lover, knowing that Y/N would hold her for days despite her own pain.

“Good morning Nat.” Steve’s thick with sleep voice interrupts her thinking, rolling her over and she can’t help but smile at his bed hair and sleepy grin.

“Good morning Captain.” She replies, giving him a sweet kiss before wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him closer, pressing soft kisses to his neck and shoulders. “Pancakes?”

“Pancakes.”

-

Y/N sits in the booth of a dim lit diner, lightly sipping her soda as the brunette woman across from her continues to chatter on about something Y/N lost interest in minutes ago.

“And that’s why I decided to become a vet!” Lucy, Y/N guesses, concludes her story, clapping once before shoving a handful of fries into her mouth with little to no gracefulness. Y/N smiles and nods, before subtly looking down at her phone, sending a SOS message to the group chat including Wanda and Tony, the two people responsible as to why she was on her fifth date that month.

Smelly 🦠

Please come save me

Lucy then starts to go on about her pet rat, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful that Tony had replied 10 minutes later, the fastest he’s replied in forever.

Toeknee 💸

We’re out front sweet cheeks

Y/N mentally cringes at the situation she’s put herself in, she hates to be that girl on the date that leaves so abruptly, but this date had been the worst she had ever been on and could not stand to be in that mangey diner any longer.

“Look Lucy-”

“Lauren.”

“Lauren, I’m sorry, but I really have to leave, there’s been an emergency at home and I got to go sort it out.” Y/N offers, smiling awkwardly, not even giving Lauren a chance to reply before she slaps down enough cash to pay for the bill plus a generous tip, before dashing out the diner doors straight into Tony’s car. She sits back and takes a deep breath before she opens her eyes to see Tony’s and Wandas amused grins staring back at her.

“You guys are jerks.” Y/N chuckles as the other two laugh, Tony reversing out of the parking spot before driving back home. It’s not long before she’s falling into her bed and putting on her favourite TV show, falling asleep quickly as it plays in the background.

-

Natasha, however, couldn’t believe what she was hearing, her heart was pounding in her chest, and she couldn’t really see past the tears in her bright green eyes. Her mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say to the tall blonde in front of her.

“W-What?” She stutters, she can feel her throat close up, and now she realises that if this was bad, what had Y/N felt when Natasha had completely shattered your heart?

“I can’t do this anymore Nat, I just don’t see us working long-term.” Steve says quietly, running a hand down his face. “I knew I shouldn’t have let it get as far as it has.”

“Are you being fucking serious right now?” Natasha’s angry at that comment, she couldn’t believe the nerve that Steve had. “From the get-go you didn’t believe it was going to go very far? So you let me destroy my relationship knowing it wasn’t going to be worth it? I thought this could have been different Steve! I loved you!”

“I’m sorry, okay?!” He replies, not wanting Natasha to get too angry that the rest of the Avengers would come to see what’s going on, seeming how it’s 12am on a Wednesday and nearly everyone would be asleep besides vision, Tony and Bruce maybe.  

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it Steve!” Natasha shouts, she falls back to sit on the chair behind her, holding her face in her hands as she takes in what just happened. “Oh my god i’m such an idiot!”

Before the tears start coming down like a waterfall, she quickly takes her leave, leaving Steve standing there feeling just as guilty. Natasha tries to keep her emotions at bay but she can’t help it, as the elevator door’s open on your floor she can’t help but let the sobs rack through her body, her hand shaking as she reaches up to knock twice on the bedroom door. Natasha hears a ruffling of blankets and light footsteps before the door swings open, Y/N’s once half asleep eyes now fully aware of a sobbing Natasha with her arms wrapped around herself tightly. Y/N immediately pulls her into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her before pulling the red-head to her chest. Natasha’s sobs become louder and stronger, and Y/N can’t help but want to wrap her up in a million blankets and hold her forever if it meant Natasha never cried like this again in her lifetime. Y/N gently rubs Natasha’s back, whispering gentle words in her ear until she starts to calm down. Y/N gently picks Nat up, carrying her to the bed, laying her down and pulling the blanket over her before climbing back into her side of the bed, pulling a sniffling Natasha into her arms once again.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Natasha’s weak voice whispers into the dark room, resting her head on Y/N’s chest, listening to the calm beating of Y/N’s heart.

“Never apologise to me, Nat. I know it wasn’t a nightmare, so what happened?” Y/N replies gently, combing her fingers along Nat’s scalp, knowing it would calm her down the easiest.

“Steve broke up with me, said he shouldn’t have let our relationship go as far as it did.” Nat says after a few moments of silence, now regretting running to her ex about the man she left her for.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” Y/N replies sympathetically, pressing her lips to her head. “You know I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

“I still don’t understand how you’re treating me so well after what i did, especially now that it happened for nothing.” Natasha admits, slowly moving her arm to sit over Y/N’s body.

“It was a very shitty thing to do, and I’d be lying if I said I was over it. But I still love you more than anything, and I think that there could be us again potentially in the future.” Y/N says simply, wrapping her arms tighter around Natasha as she readjusts to lay down. “But we’ll talk about that another day, okay? Get some rest love, I’ll still be here with you in the morning.”

Natasha smiles softly, whispering as she lets sleep take over her tired body.  “Goodnight, Y/N, Thank you.”

A/N: Ahhhh I couldn’t help but end it in fluff!! I hope you guys enjoyed this part!

#natasha romanoff x reader #imagine natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #steve rogers x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x reader #tony stark x reader #avengers x reader #scarlett johansson x reader

[innocentbi-stander]

I love necromancer Jaskier!! But now I’m just thinking about Geralt almost dying (or actually dying) & Jaskier just being like “Nope. Sorry. Get back here, bitch.”

@frecklesandamane I absolutely love that idea! I took the concept and wrote a little short, hope you enjoy!

Geralt’s world narrowed down to a haze of darkness, sharp stabs of pain stemming from the gaping wound in his side courtesy of the second wyrvern the alderman hadn’t thought to inform him about.

He had been losing blood steadily for the past few minutes, and by the feel of the massive puddle beneath him he was close to bleeding out. A strong pressure wrapped around his fingers pulled him back to earth from the place his mind had been floating. Who was holding his hand? A blob swam in front of his vision, tan, and brown, and blue, bright, familiar blue. Geralt forced his eyes to focus and the blur became a face. 

Jaskier.

Jaskier was here, and he was shouting something at Geralt, and the witcher felt something wet drip onto his face. Tears, Jaskier was crying.

Geralt still couldn’t make out what exactly his bard was saying, but he could feel the presence of his hands, one holding his own and the other putting pressure on his wound. It wouldn’t help.

It struck Geralt then that he was dying. They were too far away from the village to get help, and Jaskier couldn’t possibly manage to lug Geralt to a healer in time for him to make any difference. Geralt always knew he would die a witcher’s death, struck down by some monster and left to bleed alone.

Except he wasn’t alone. In all the times Geralt had tried to picture how his life would end, he had never imagined a scenario where he didn’t die as he had lived; sad and isolated. Jaskier had changed that. The bard had come into his life and brought light, and laughter, and friendship, and love. And now here he sat beside Geralt as he bled out on some forest floor, gripping his hand and crying for him.

Gods, Geralt loved him more than he had ever loved anything else in the world.

And he was leaving him. He didn’t want to go. But he didn’t have a choice.

The world continued it’s steady fade to black, closing in more and more, until all Geralt could see was blue.

And then there was nothing.

Geralt woke with a gasp in a world that seemed drained of any and all bright color. Shadows clung to the walls like stubborn moss, and he could hear the sounds of a powerful river beside him.

As he got to his feet Geralt took note of the absence of pain from his side, and the presence of wooden slats, a dock, under his boots.

“Geralt of Rivia. I’ve been waiting for you.” A voice sounded from beside the witcher, and every hair on his body stood on end. The voice grated into his ears, nails on a chalkboard and the breaking of glass. 

Next to the dock was a boat, long and slim, and standing inside of it was a figure. Humanoid in nature, the figure was the darkest shade of night. It’s edges were unclear, slipping away from the throes of reality like a hazy dream. It wore a cloak like the velvet of the night sky, where the twinkles of stars shone from every fold. It’s hood was pulled up, but from what he could see underneath was nothing but a harsh darkness that looked cut from the void itself.

“Who are you?” Geralt asked, though he already knew the answer. Still, the figure indulged him.

“I am Charon, ferryman of the dead. You must board my boat so that I may deliver you to your Final Judgement.” Geralt felt his stomach reposition itself in a pit of dread and despair.

“So I am dead then.” Charon did not have eyes, but Geralt felt them burning through him none the less.

“Let’s not play silly games witcher. You are not the type prone to disillusionment, best not to start in the afterlife.” He was right. Geralt had no choice, no where else to go. He took a step forward, and Charon reached out one flickering arm towards the witcher.

“And where in the absolute HELL do you think you’re going, Geralt?!” A voice rang out across the shadowed land. A very familiar voice. A very familiar and very alive voice that most certainly shouldn’t be down here. 

Geralt whipped around in disbelief to see Jaskier, stomping across the shoreline towards them. The bard was dressed in the same green set of clothes he had been in that morning, except now he was positively doused in blood. Geralt’s blood. He was the only spot of color in this dark and dreary plane and the most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen, the witcher couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

In his shock at seeing Jaskier in what could only be the Underworld, Geralt had failed to notice the bard’s furious state. Jaskier marched up to the witcher’s side and Geralt let out a surprised huff when the bard proceeded to shove him a good few steps away from Charon and his boat.

“I cannot BELIEVE you Geralt! You die for one second and I come here and find you already traipsing onto the bloody ferryboat? I’d have thought there would have been at least a little fight in you!” The witcher took a minute to find his words, aghast and utterly confused about what was happening.

“I didn’t think I had a choice. I’m dead.” Charon decided then to add in his own two cents to the situation.

“He doesn’t have one. Your friend is dead, Jaskier. He must come with me now.” Jaskier laughed, loud and edging on hysterical as he turned to face Charon.

“I think the fuck not, you asinine little boat man. Geralt is mine, and I have decided that he will not be dying, so he will be coming with me back to the surface.” Charon’s figure seemed to grow, leering higher and higher over the bard who couldn’t seem to find it in himself to be even moderately intimidated.

“That does not align with the rules of Death, foolish boy. The witcher has died. Thus he must come with me. There are no second chances, even for the friends of those associated with Death himself.” Geralt watched silently and Jaskier’s face darkened, shadows seeming to wrap around his form, his eyes glowing in the darkness and a vicious grin overtaking his face.

“You underestimate my position in the Underworld, Charon. I am more powerful than you care to know, and more dangerous than you’d like to find out. Necromancers have a sworn kinship with Death, and we have freedom to play with it as much as we so please. If that means making sure the love of my life stays by my side as long as possible, than so be it. Unless you would like me to inform Death that his noble ferryman is disrespecting his dear friend?” 

Charon and Jaskier stayed locked in a silent battle of wills. An exchange seemed to pass between the two, and Jaskier held firm. A few minutes later Charon seemed to step back, taking hold of his oar.

“Very well. Take your witcher back to the surface. But be wary, next time you may not be so quick to come to his aid.” The ferryman pushed off from shore, and Geralt and Jaskier watched him disappear into the river mist in silence. As soon as he was fully gone, Jaskier seemed to brighten, turning around to Geralt with a bright smile that didn’t match the dreary setting.

“Alright then. Now that that’s done why don’t we head on back up and track down Roach? I left her in that clearing, surely she hasn’t gotten too far by now.” Geralt blinked a few times, trying to process the sudden shift in mood. 

“What was- Jaskier, what the fuck just happened?” Finally the bard managed some semblance of sheepishness, his hand coming up to nervously rub at the back of his neck and his eyes stuck on the floor.

“You see darling, I’ve been meaning to find a way to tell you, but I could never quite get it right, and then it just felt too late to say. I’m not exactly....human. I’m a necromancer.” Geralt stepped forward, his hands reaching up to grasp either side of Jaskier’s face and forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Okay.” Now it was Jaskier’s turn to be confused.

“Okay? Just, okay?” Geralt’s thumbs stroked his bard’s cheekbones in hopes to soothe his nerves.

“Yes.” Jaskier couldn’t help but let out a little laugh and the very Geralt-like response, always straight to the point. Lovely. The bard’s arms wrapped around the witcher’s neck, pulling him closer so their foreheads touched.

“Okay.” 

Geralt could feel wisps of his bard’s breath teasing at his lips, and he couldn’t resist closing the gap between them. The last thing Geralt saw before he closed his eyes was that beautiful shade of blue he loved so dearly. And he would see it again when he opened his eyes once more.

There you go! This ended up a little bit longer than expected, but I got carried away. Feel free to send in any more witcher prompts to my inbox and I’ll gladly fill them!

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #Witcher #witcher netflix #the witcher geralt #the witcher jaskier #witcher geralt #witcher jaskier #Geralt #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #jaskier fanfiction #immortal jaskier #bamf jaskier #non human jaskier #necromancy #necromancer jaskier #he says geralt isnt allowed to die #hes buds with death so its cool #charon kind of sucks in this #geraskier #geraskier prompt fill #geraskier fic #geralt whump #hurt geralt

[marsbutterfly]

A Message From Beyond

Summary: In which Hanji sacrificed herself to save you, instead of Moblit sacrificing himself for her.

Notes: This is the second time I've written AND edited a fanfic all by myself, so please bear with me :)

AO3 Version! | Wattpad Version!

It's been weeks, but the empty space where she used to sleep hurts more with each passing day. While your side was perfectly organized, you don't dare touch Hanji's part of the room. You cling onto one of her shirts, trying to feel her once again. 

As you glance at the bedside table, you see a couple of random books and her spare glasses. The sight brings a smirk to your face, "of course you would leave a mess behind" you think to yourself but at the same time, it makes your heart ache.

You can't smell her perfume in the air anymore, and the warmth of her body is gone. The words "I'm all alone" have been hammering in your head since you had come back. A sob escapes your body, no matter how strongly you try to hold it in.

The tears that run down your face bring your body into a state of exhaustion, forcing you to close your eyes and rest. Lately, that has been the only way for you to get some sleep.

.

You open your eyes to find yourself underneath a tree, the sun peeking from behind the leaves keeps your body warm. You rub your eyes as you sit up, trying to recognize your surroundings but with no luck. You can hear a voice in the distance calling your name, the person's face is too far away for you to be able to tell who it is.

As their image becomes more clear, you can finally identify who's calling you and the sight brings tears to your eyes.

"Hey Y/N! I've been looking all over for you... are you all right? Why are you crying?" The figure that once stood in front of you now sits by your side, analyzing your features while concern fills her eyes.

You immediately cross your arms around her neck, not saying a word. You hold onto her cloak allowing the tears you've been so familiar with to come out all at once. You feel her hands gently touching your body, the softness of her fingers against your skin is all you've been thinking about ever since you watched her disappear.

"Hanji..." is all you manage to say while the hiccups and sobs escape your throat.

She doesn't say anything, she closes her eyes and allows herself to feel you in her arms. Her hands go through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. The chilly breeze hits your face while you take a deep breath, a sense of calm in your stomach as you can once again smell her skin.

"I miss you" you whisper in her ear, your face moving down until you reach her lips, not giving Hanji enough time to say it back. As you kiss her, she shifts allowing her back to rest against the tree while you gently sit on her lap. Your hands travel through her neck all the way to her cheeks. You peck her lips gently before separating your faces.

"Why did you have to leave me, Hanji?" the noticeable pain in your voice forces her to look down. She takes a few seconds before answering and, as she does, you run your fingers through your face, drying the tears that form in your eyes. Once she's ready, she flashes you a sad but gentle smile while tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

"I had to protect you."

Your face contorts into a frown, your bottom lip shaking lightly. "I didn't need to be protected, I can take care of myself."

She lets out a sigh closely followed by a giggle, "at that moment you couldn't."

You rest your head on her chest as she plays with your hair. The memories of that fateful day come rushing through your mind.

-

You can still hear the terrified screams of your comrades as you watch Bertholdt's silhouette rise in the sky as he's about to transform. Yours and Hanji's squad are too close to him. Panic rushing through your veins as you look at your girlfriend.

"Y/N!" You can barely hear her, the buildings around you being destroyed by the explosion and the fire is spreading quickly, there is no way you can survive it. That is until Hanji pushes your body into a decaying old well.

As you are falling, you closely watch as her body is incinerated. In a second, she is gone. The wind that helps your body go down the old well betrays you for a moment when a rock hits your left eye. Once your body collides with the floor, you pass out.

After 20 minutes, you open your eye to find yourself still holding onto the thunder spears. Realization not fully hitting you yet, you make your way up to see the damage. Air barely manages to enter your lungs as you watch the results of the Colossal Titan's transformation. The buildings being thrown around as if they weigh nothing startle you. You take 5 minutes to look around, but with all the fire and dust, you can't find anyone, you quickly realize it wasn't possible for any bodies to be left intact, they were all incinerated.

Before tears have time to form in your eyes, you decide to go looking for the group of teenagers surrounding Eren. You can't remember much after that.

-

You shake your head, trying to push away the painful memories, your hands slightly punching the grass by your side. You once again lay on her chest, allowing her to caress you in the manner you miss so much. It takes you a few minutes to notice you can hear her heart beating. As you sit up a gasp escapes your lips.

"I wish this was real." You look deep into her brown eyes, begging whatever God out there you could make this moment true. Begging for her to come back. Your name falls from her lips as she takes on a serious expression, a strange feeling settling in the pit of your stomach as you stare at her.

"The real fight has yet to begin." She doesn't take her eyes off of you. The uneasiness you are feeling only grows bigger every second that passes and every hair in your body now stands up. "Once you cross the ocean, you'll find out who the real enemy is."

Somehow the air feels thicker and it gets harder to breathe. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, a confused expression settling on your face.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't tell you much more than this, but Y/N, you shouldn't trust Eren." she pauses for a few seconds, trying to figure out just how much she can tell you. Taking a quick breath, she continues, "Watch out for your friends, especially Mikasa and Armin, they will need you the most."

You start to feel her body fading through your fingertips, her image once again disappearing right before your eyes. Despair is the only feeling you have left.

"I'll always be right here with you, you are never alone." she continues as she places one final kiss on your lips, it's so gentle and quick you can barely feel it.

"Be careful, all right?" is the last thing she says before her body disappears completely from underneath you. You fall on your back, the grass rubs against your skin and it leaves a gentle shade of red to it.

"Hanji.." you whisper while covering your mouth with the back of your hands, whimpers coming out of your body like never before.

Your eyelids are now as heavy as rocks and you can't keep yourself awake. As you drift back to sleep, the darkness around you becomes rather comforting and before you're pulled back to the real world once again, you hear it as clear as the day you met her,

"Y/N, I love you."

.

You open your eyes slowly, trying to shift around on the empty bed in a way so the bright sunshine won't touch you. The empty space by your side feels a little less painful today.

You decide to head to the bathroom to take a cold shower and prepare for the day but Hanji's words not leaving your mind for a second. Don't trust Eren, but why not? Who will we have to face to finally have our freedom?

The warm water against your skin relaxes your shoulders, the steam hiding the scars left by the Colossal Titan's brutal attack. As the soap bar slides through your body, you think about the feeling of your girlfriend's soft hands against your limbs and how she always took care of your injuries. Carefully, you wash your face, slowly feeling the spot where your left eye used to be.

You turn the water off and walk towards your room. The chilly breeze against your skin after such a hot shower brings a gentle smile to your face.

Once you have your clothes on, you make sure to carefully bandage your left eye before grabbing the black eye-patch that rests by the door. As you walk past Hanji's old office, you can almost see her running around with a small sample from a titan in one hand while she looks for a pen, Moblit following her not far behind trying to make sure she's ok. You smile at the now empty room before starting to walk once again.

"Good morning Commander!" You turn around to face the short, blonde-haired boy. You could tell by the look on his face he was exhausted after training, but his smile looking as bright as always.

"Good morning, Armin." you say before flashing him a compassionate smile.

"Will you be joining us for breakfast today?" he asks softly, not wanting his worry towards you to be visible through his voice.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute. Mikasa and Eren seem to be waiting for you."

He looks to his left to find his friends waiving at him, so he simply nods at you before sprinting towards them.

You look out the window towards the sky, maybe you're right Hanji, I'm not alone. You continue your path towards the dining room before stopping one last time in front of the massive doors, you can almost feel Hanji's hand on yours as you open them. For the first time since you became the commander, you finally feel like you are ready to be the leader the Survey Corps needs and as a promise to yourself and Hanji, you will not let them down.

#hange zoe x reader #hanji zoe x reader #hanji x reader #hange x reader #my sunshine #reader #fanfic #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #hanji zoe/reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #snk fanfic #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #snk x y/n #aot x y/n #aot x reader

[bone-wolves]

The sandy ground beneath Glimmer's paws was cool still, but the horizon was already lightening as the sun rose. Before her, the ground ended abruptly in a sharp drop ending in flat, dusty ground. The drop is high enough that only an adult wolf would be able to leap back up, and the high edge rings around the lowered area, creating an enclosed area about two wolf-lengths wide and three wolf-lengths long. At the center of it is a depression, where once a spring might have bubbled up but which now only holds a few pawfuls of dusty sand a single scrappy stand of desert grass.

In the enclosed area, three pale-blue pups were sitting or standing, their pale eyes looking around themselves with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Glimmer watched them, her body tense. In her eyes, the image of the pups shifted, her memories changing their pale coats to darker grays, marked here and there with splashes of white and black.

She narrowed her eyes, a low growl rumbling in her throat. One of the pups looked up at her, ears perked and eyes bright. He was barely over one moon old - and he might never get any older. By His Glorious Golden One's decree, one-moon old pups were to spend a day in the desert pit, without water or food or any shelter, to prove that they were worthy to be Blessed by the Golden Light.

Few did.

Mother's weren't allowed to watch their pups in the pit. They were forced to wait until the sun set to discover the outcome - some nervously, some quietly angry, the more pious of them peacefully and with a quiet reverence in their eyes as they stared up at the sun.

Glimmer had been one of the pious ones; she'd joined Aurelius's side before the golden wolf had staged his coup and torn apart Rowan's Shade Pack. He'd spoken to that first group of supporters about the treachery of Enit's modifications, the dangers of otherworldly powers. He'd told them that he'd bring a new era, a time where worldly wolves held worldly powers, where their worth and strength wasn't decided by what extreme horrors their bodies were subjected to. He'd told them he'd make them strong across all the lands, if only they spread the Light he gave them and supported him without question.

The gold flecks of Blessed Light still shimmered on Glimmers pelt, but her piety was gone. It had gone a while ago, and the empty spot left behind had been filling with a slow-growing but fiery rage. When she'd given her first pups to the pit, she had waited with a sure heart, the sun's light blinding her, for the day's end, when she could welcome them to the pack as full members - but that moment hadn't come. In the harsh sunlight, with nowhere to hide and nothing to drink, the young pups had succumbed to the heat. None had survived.

Despair had drowned Glimmer; she had blamed herself, told herself that she hadn't believed hard enough, that she hadn't whispered the right words to her pups enough, that she hadn't done enough. It had been her fault. She worked hard to prove herself a worthy member of the Pack of Golden Light. She'd chased interlopers; she'd hunted the strongest and healthiest prey; she'd battled the dune-cats and the cougars and worked herself ragged day and night and she knew that next time, it would be different.

And when her next litter of pups died the same as the first, her faith shattered.

She didn't see the truth immediately, however. It was despair and grief that dimmed the shine Aurelius's words and pulled her away from his obsessive rules, but it wasn't until the pieces of her faith began to fall, one by one, and her eyes began to see clearly past the shine of the Golden Light Aurelius constantly talked about, the she saw.

Aurelius, she realized, was exactly like Enit. No, no - he was worse. Enit had never pretended to be anything but what she was, and her aspects were given as gifts, never meant to harm the wolves she bestowed them on. She was clumsy in the ways of mortals, but as Glimmer looked back on the time she had known the spirit-in-wolf-form, she realized that that was all it was - clumsiness. There were no dark intentions, no attempts to control the wolves of the pack.

Aurelius wanted control. He craved power and control as mortal wolves craved good prey - he stalked it constantly, created rules to enforce his control on others, enacted rituals meant to confuse the pack, keep them isolated from other wolves. And as Glimmer looked at him through newly-unshuttered eyes, she could finally see what he was doing; keeping the wolves of his pack ignorant, believing in some mortally-based supernatural power and feeding them lies, keeping them wary of outside wolves, keeping them happy by letting them harass the Bound wolves of Rowan's Shade Pack so they wouldn't notice just how much he was taking from them.

But Glimmer knew; as she watched the pups below her, she knew. She knew the chances these young pups would survive the heat of midday was slim. She knew that when - not if - they died, Aurelius would use it to push the wolves of his pack into greater fervor. And she knew it was all a lie -

There was no mortal golden light blessing them, the sunlight didn't give them powers - Aurelius wasn't of this world, no matter how cleverly he arranged himself. Behind his charisma, his bright eyes, his shimmering coat, there was the same shimmer of other-worldliness that had surrounded Enit when she lived. Whatever he was, he was no wolf, and the power he said came from the sun came from him, and from someplace beyond this mortal world. And the power - it did nothing that was promised. Glimmer could feel the shine of gold dust in her pelt, but it hadn't given strength to her limbs or sharpness to her teeth. Whatever prey she brought down had been brought down by her own work, not a beam of sunlight. Whatever foes she defeated were defeated with her own strength.

She could see that now, in vivid clarity. And she could see, now, that if Aurelius hadn't come to power, if Enit had been allowed to return, her pups would never had died. She would never have suffered their loss, or seen their worn bodies spread out on the ground of the pit. In Enit's pack, pups had been cared for, and had only died of illness or accident. In The Pack of Golden Light, pups died by design.

Glimmer's throat still rumbled with a growl, and her eyes no longer saw the pups, or the pit, or the other wolves that stood watch along the edges. All she saw was the golden face of the wolf that had destroyed her world.

#wolvden #rowan pack lore #glimmer tag

[bidrums]

Jon forgetting what happened in the safe house is one of the saddest things that’s happened in this season so far and I legit started tearing up at it

Jon had a small moment to actually breathe and be human again and to actually learn something the old-fashioned way and a bright spot in the dark pit of despair that is the Eyepocalypse

And Beholding took that from him

It is the most direct way the Eye could possibly say “you belong to me and cannot get out of that” and by discarding information that it couldn’t use directly out of Jon like he was some kind of filing cabinet

Or if you want to be more accurate, Archive

This doesn’t bode well for the future because what if Jon and Martin get separated? What if Jon is at the brink of going full on Avatar of a Ruined world and the only thing holding him back is his reason? What if Martin is gone and when he comes back Jon doesn’t remember any of his old life because it’s not useful to the Beholding, so the Archive doesn’t need to store it anymore?

Plus, Jon couldn’t remember getting a good, long nap and that makes me SAD

#the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #tma s5 #tma s5 spoilers #jonathan sims

[meigh-day]

Obligation (Tendou x Reader) - Part 14

———————————————————–

Title: Obligation

Pairing: Mafia AU Tendou x F!Reader

Characters: Includes characters from both Shiratorizawa and Seijoh/Some OC background characters

Includes: Swearing, Guns, Knives, Violence, Blood, Torture

Status: Complete

Word Count: 1.4k

Previous Next

———————————————————–

"Hanamaki, Matsuwaka is looking for you." The light haired man who had slapped you turned away, facing the door where where a younger man stood expectantly. The new arrival glanced over at you a moment, an impassive look on his face, before turning back to Hanamaki. "Already? Fuck, he's impatient." The young man pivoted in the doorway and disappeared into the hallway while Hanamaki turned his eyes back your way. "You better hope that crazy bastard shows up soon. Next time I won't stop him..." He jerked his head to the side, shifting his gaze the same way, causing you to glance over as well. Shido had his gaze fixed on you. The dark haired man watched you like he was a starving animal, he wanted to devour you, to pull you apart piece by piece just to see what was inside. He looked unhinged, light grey eyes burning through you as his tongue slowly trailed across his lips.

"I'm telling you the truth! You're just wasting your time. Tendou doesn't give a shit what happens to me." You direct your wide eyes back at Hanamaki, imploring him to believe you, uncaring that you were still crying. He raised his brows a moment, amusement clear in his expression as he lets out a chuckle.

"For your sake, you better hope your wrong." With those parting words he turned and left. Shido gradually followed out after him, reluctant to leave you alone. The room felt too large and too small all at once, suffocating you while it swallowed you up. Aside from you and the chair you were sat in, it was empty. There were no windows, only the door leading out and the too bright fluorescent lights that hung above you. The walls were an unremarkable shade of grey, the floor a simple linoleum, no doubt chosen due to how easy it was to clean. You were sure yours wasn't the first blood to make a mess on the floor, and it wouldn't be the last. The pain in your head and hand were still very much present, both throbbing with each frantic beat of your heart.

You had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was. How long had you been missing for? You'd been conscience for a few hours but you'd also spent quite awhile drugged up and comatose. Had anyone noticed you were gone? Someone would eventually notice you were missing, at the very least you had a bi-weekly meeting and if you didn't show up they'd come looking for you. Even so, would anyone actually care that you'd just up and vanished? The men who were here earlier had been using your phone to take pictures or something, maybe filming. There was little doubt they'd end up sending that off to prove you were with them and alive. The Shiratorizawa Group wouldn't let a slight of this magnitude go unanswered. Even if you were a nobody, you still belonged to them, you were intended for someone important within their organization. You felt your chin tremble as you continued to spiraled downwards, allowing each dreary thought to linger in your mind. No one was going to care that it was you that was missing, they'd care that something of theirs had been taken. No more and no less. You had been reduced to a piece of property, a troublesome one at that.

Tears continued to fall, sliding down your cheeks, leaving trails through the dried blood surrounding your mouth and chin before dripping down onto your chest. You already felt like a constant source of pain for Tendou, a reminder that he couldn't be with the person he cared about. Now your stupidity had led to you being kidnapped, tied up in a trap like a piece of bait. The last thing you had wanted was to cause trouble for them, for him, but that's exactly what had happened. Deep heavy sobs wracked your body, every dark thought impaling themselves in your heart and mind. Left alone to struggle against your own mind, you continued to weep until you felt empty, until all you could do was stare ahead with a hollow expression.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed since you'd been abandoned but a soft click drew your vacant eyes towards the door in time to see it swing open. A large, broad figure, passes through the doorway, momentarily taking up most of the open space. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, offering you an amiable smile as his gaze settles on your battered figure.

"Looks like Hanamaki and Shido did a number on you. Bastards." He strides further into the room, coming to a stop a short distance away. The smile he'd plastered on his face was probably meant to be charming and warm, a beacon of reassurance to help lure you out of the pit of despair you'd fallen into. Unfazed by the pretentious gesture, you simply track him with distant eyes. "I'm not really supposed to be here but I wanted to come check on you now that they finally left." He paused, waiting expectantly for you to sat something but when you remained tight-lipped he continued. "Do you want a drink or something? I'm sure I can scrounge something up for ya." His hands slide into the front pockets of his dark pants, casually rocking back and forth on his feet, eagerly waiting.

"No."

Your short but definite refusal had him twitching, the warm smile on his face slowly turning colder, his teeth baring slightly. "My oh my, so quick to refuse my generous offer. And after I came all the way over here to see you." He let out a sigh and began moving towards the back of the room, his footsteps leading him out of your line of sight. Suddenly you can feel him, his breath heating the side of your neck as he whispers against your ear, his voice was low and sinister. "Don't worry. I'll make sure your more agreeable next time." Something stabs into the base of your neck causing you to jolt in your restraints. The man comes into view a moment later, a wicked smile on his lips. "Have a nice nap. I'll be back soon, doll." You try to focus on him as he leaves the room but you already felt yourself fading away, the last thing you heard was the click of the door as it closed.

.

..

.

"Tatsuo?" A voice calls down the corridor as the blonde man closes the door behind him. He hadn't been lying, he really wasn't supposed to be in here. His was meant to be on the other side of the building but he couldn't get you out of his mind. The way your soft lips had parted so easily under his strong grip, how your warm soft tongue had felt against his finger, it was so depraved, so lewd and he needed more. The drugs he'd given you would have you dead to the world for awhile, long enough for him to make an appearance where he was meant to be, long enough for him to come back before the shot wore off completely. He wanted nothing more than to catch you while the drugs were just starting to wear off. That was when you'd be in the perfect state, you'd be still pliant but also conscience, it was no fun if you weren't at least somewhat cognizant. Tatsuo wanted to leave his mark on you, to stain you with his impression so deeply that you could never forget him.

"What the hell are you doing all the way over here? Kyotani is gonna have your head if he finds out you wandered away from your post again..." Tatsuo glowered at the man before him, annoyed at being spotted.

"God your such a fucking nag Yuda." He stepped up close to him, voice lowering as a menacing smile spread across his thin lips. "If I had a wife like you, I'd break her neck just for some peace and quiet."

Yuda opted not to reply, simply watching as the large blonde man scowled at him before walking away. It was no secret that Tatsuo was a creep, even in a group of callous, seasoned killers he was considered a deviant. Known for his disturbing and brutal treatment of women, he hadn't been a first choice to go along and fetch you but they'd had no choice with the short notice they'd been given to put together a plan and a team. Now it looked like he might have taken a liking to you and, if they weren't careful, Tatsuo would break you before they finished the job.

#tendou x reader #tendou #tendou satori #tendou mafia #haikyuu #haikyuu mafia

[edelwoodsouls]

it’s hard to get to heaven (with my head in my hands) - ch. 1

"Come on, Mark," Damien insists. "Not yet- there's someone we can't leave without." [or: Caleb is fifteen years old when he finds himself in Tier 5]

dedicated to @exhaustedwerewolf​ for putting up with my endless babble, especially the past few months <3

Word Count: 2,431 | Also on Ao3 | Other Chapters: N/A [currently]

Chapter 1 - Now I

Damien

"We can't leave yet."

Dr B's brother can barely stand, barely keep his eyes open - his face is thin and drawn with sweat, sunken and waxy in all the worst places, like a skeleton with skin stretched across its bones - and still he shoves Damien with considerable force as he begins to head for the exit.

"What?" Damien can't help the irritation itching in his voice. He can hear Dr B buzzing in his ear with increasing panic - it's starting to grate on his nerves, and he wants to be far away from here before she decides to grow a brain and call the AM on him.

He's not sure how many people he could manipulate at once, and certainly doesn't want to try to find out fighting his way out of this place.

"Come on, Mark," he continues, trying to lift the guy up - he's like a sack of rocks, suddenly rooted to the spot. "We don't have time for this - we have to go."

"No," Mark grits his teeth. He's clearly in pain, a breath away from falling, struggling against Damien’s desires though he doesn’t yet know it. "There's someone we can't leave without."

"As flattering as it is that you think so highly of my abilities already, even I can't face off this entire building. I can't organise a whole fucking prison break."

"I know." His eyes are wide and Damien can feel himself melting already. "But just one. Please."

Damn the Bright siblings.

"Fine. Show me."

Now that he's promised, Mark becomes a lot easier to move - but not much. He's barely holding his own weight as it is.

Whoever this other person is better not be in a coma, too, or Damien might just call it a day and leave them both to rot.

Okay, that's a lie. But what the hell can possibly be so special about one of the other prisoners here to warrant priority? Mark is leading him down a corridor lined with cell after cell, and Damien can sense countless minds - tangles of messed up wants and fears and needs - on the other side of the doors.

It makes him feel sick. It makes him feel as if that despair - their despair - is collecting like rainwater in the pit of his stomach, filling him steadily up. He wants to escape - they want to escape, and the want ricochets back and forth until it's a hammering against his skull.

He's about to give up when Mark stops. "Here," he says, nodding at a door that is no different to any of the others.

Damien leans Mark against the wall, grabs the keys he stole from the previous guard. As he reaches out for the door, he finds that awful need to flee vanish, replaced with a calm certainty. This is the right thing to do, he thinks, but the thought sits awkwardly inside him, rubbing rough edges against the rest of him.

He pushes the discomfort away. Just because you had an unselfish thought for once doesn't mean you need to have a breakdown, he tells himself, and the voice in his head sounds an awful lot like Dr Bright.

He isn't sure what he's expecting when he opens the cell door. A cute girl, perhaps. A guy Mark has made friends with - Dr B always said Mark imprinted on people like a lost puppy.

But of everything, he definitely isn't expecting the child hunched on the concrete floor. The strip lighting in the cell flickers on, illuminating the figure. He's dressed in the same drab uniform as everyone else, but it's loose, hanging awkwardly off his frame. His skin is a similar sickly pallor as Mark, shadows dragging at his eyes. The only individual flare is a spray of golden curls springing unruly from his head, falling over his face in an oddly shy, high school kind of way.

He's already staring at the door when Damien pushes it open, eyes narrowed and unsurprised.

Hm.

"Uh," Damien reaches unsuccessfully for words, "hey, kid."

Said kid ignores him entirely, eyes shifting to stare at - no, through - the wall beside him, where Mark is slumped. Can he see through walls? Detect heartbeats?

"This is a jailbreak," Damien continues, doing unenthusiastic jazz hands. "Let's go?"

"What did you do to Mark?" the boy asks - and he is a boy, seventeen at the most. Damien feels an uncomfortably sick feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"I'm breaking him out. Hang on, how did you-"

But the kid is already pushing up from the floor, rocketing past Damien without a word.

Damien stares into the room. It's small, just as sparse as Mark's room even though the kid definitely hasn't been in a coma for two years. There's a desk with nothing on it except an ipod without headphones - the wires a suicide risk, he guesses.

The bed is perfectly made - aren't teenagers supposed to be messy? Though he supposes the lack of anything else to do might make one tidy out of boredom.

He ducks into the room to grab the ipod - just in case.

When he emerges, the kid is checking Mark over with surprisingly gentle fingers, a look of utter concentration on his face.

There's something dark and brewing behind it that sets Damien on edge.

"Mark?" the kid's voice is surprisingly soft. Damien can't get a read on this kid, a bundle of contradictions swinging back and forth between two extremes. When he reaches out to feel the kid's mind, he finds a swirling hurricane of colour. Taking a single step feels like the winds will tear away his skin, his very being.

"Hey, Caleb," Mark murmurs, a laugh bordering on hysteria. "Long time, huh?"

"Yeah, come on. Let's get you out of here."

And just like that the kid - Caleb? - heaves Mark off the floor like he weighs less than a bag of feathers, holding him up effortlessly.

Damien tries not to feel self-conscious about how hard he was struggling only moments ago.

"Are we going?" Caleb stares fiercely at Damien, making eye contact for the first time, and suddenly the hallway feels too small. He can feel the fear of being trapped down here climbing his throat and strangling him. It makes the world slant in a blur of dizzying colour, the sudden onslaught rushing through his veins.

"Yeah," he chokes, all but stumbling in the direction of the exit. He wants to get out. "This way.”

~/~/~/~

Caleb

He emerges into sunlight for the first time in two years.

Isn’t it strange how you can forget things so vitally important? Things that kept you alive for sixteen years, kept you together and breathing?

Well, it isn’t so strange; he can’t remember the curve of his mother’s smile, the colour of his sister’s hair, the image of ink staining his father’s fingers. They are cartoon sketches in his head, placeholders where he knows real images should be.

Like the sun. The pain of it bright against his eyes feels like breathing for the first time in years. Stepping out of a grave back into his own skin.

Adam would say something about Persephone, or Orpheus. Caleb just grits his teeth and shoves the memory down.

He’d forgotten what it was to have that natural warmth against his skin, warmth not stolen from radiators or lukewarm cups of tea (they wouldn’t let him have hot drinks, just in case). He’d forgotten the soft yellow that wasn’t harsh halogen strip lights or flashing red alarms.

He’d forgotten the world had light and warmth at all.

Mark weighs almost nothing, as they hurry away from the building with surprisingly little fuss, even with all the muscle mass Caleb’s lost from loitering in a cell for two years. He feels the amber sparks of concern churning in his gut - and it’s almost nice.

He’d forgotten what his own emotions felt like, too, sitting inside of his chest. The last year has been a haze of grey populated with other people’s noise.

After a few seconds the emotions start to scratch against his skin. They don’t fit anymore, so unfamiliar with their home - so used to living in other people’s chests.

He reaches out blindly for someone else to latch onto. Mark - bright, familiar Mark, whose relief and bewilderment spill into Caleb instantly, like a dam being let loose.

Just for a moment, he’s adrift in a sea of green.

All too soon, that bliss is snatched away with the arrival of this new guy. He’s unfamiliar and conspicuously shady, wearing a black hoodie, his long dark hair pulled up in a loose bun. Yellow sparks across his skin like electricity, an acidic emotion somewhere between concern and suspicion.

Caleb doesn’t like how strong this guy’s emotions are, how they jump across the space between them without Caleb even reaching out, digging into his skin. How they tower over him like a skyscraper, a wave threatening to crash into him, wash away any sense of self he has fought tooth and nail to cling to these past few years.

Definitely a Class E. Some kind of manipulator.

Maybe someone like him.

“I’m Damien,” the guy says, brushing past him to open up the doors. “Let’s get going.”

And all of a sudden Caleb feels the urge, the need, to get going sink into his bones before he has time to think. He pulls Mark into the car, setting him down carefully into a seat as the other guy climbs into the front.

As soon as the wheels begin to turn, the tug in his gut vanishes, leaving behind only the ghost of a raw, exposed nerve. Like someone has cracked open his chest and scooped his organs out.

“Don’t do that again,” he hisses, surprised and pleased at how the threat sounds in his voice. He isn’t the child he was when he first came here; he’s learned from the best how to be dangerous.

He can’t help the sharp flash of power in his chest as he feels the flicker of shock roll off the other guy - Damien, what kind of name is that? - as their eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“Most people take minutes - hours - to wear off the first time.”

Caleb says nothing, just glaring.

“No, seriously.” The car comes to a stop and Damien twists in his seat, reaches out and grabs Caleb’s wrist tight. The skin on skin contact burns like someone is scraping away the top layer to expose the flesh beneath. When was the last time someone - not a doctor taking his vitals but a real , human person - touched him? “What are you?”

“Angry,” Caleb snaps back. “So don’t fucking do that to me again.”

“Or what? What can you do?”

He isn’t going to rise to this guy’s goading, no matter how tempting it is. Not yet. As much as he wants to wipe the curious, hungry pool of red lapping at his heels away. As much as he wants to reach out and twist it into the bottomless silver of fear, the only colour he truly recognises as familiar anymore.

But he doesn’t have enough of the facts. Doesn’t know who this guy is, or why he broke Mark - and him - out. Doesn’t know what this world looks like, what he looks like, compared to before. He needs to bide his time.

Adam would be so proud of his restraint.

“Look,” he says through gritted teeth. “I appreciate the break out. But I don’t owe you shit.”

Damien’s hunger tints with anger - this is a guy who isn’t used to being told no.

Caleb feels that anger, that desire curl through the car, twist itself around his tongue. “I’m an empath,” he says, the words spilling out like they can’t wait to be free.

Damien’s emotions dull instantly with disinterest and disappointment. “Oh. Like you can feel other people’s emotions and shit?”

“And shit,” Caleb agrees, using what little is left of his own will to skirt around the truth.

“Disappointing.”

“I know.”

Damien’s desires evaporate slowly from the air, and Caleb breathes a deep sigh of relief, a weight lifting from his chest.

“What’s so important about you?”

Caleb blinks. “What?”

Damien’s eyes search his face, not pushing at him like before, just genuine curiosity. “I only came for Mark. But he wouldn’t let me leave without you.”

Something goes soft and warm inside Caleb - a deeply buried part of himself he tries to ignore. “We got stuck together a lot in there, before…”

The warm glow turns sour. Once Mark had vanished without trace and Wadsworth had lost her favourite toy, she’d needed a new plaything.

And after all, as she always told him, he was so special. Powerful. She’d taken a particular interest in his budding ability to affect others.

“Mark’s kinda like the older brother I never had,” Caleb shrugs, shoving away the dangerous rabbit hole his thoughts are spiralling into. Damien isn’t pushing his will onto him, but he still feels the truth rolling off his tongue unbidden.

“Hm.”

“What’s he to you, then?” Caleb reaches out, trying to tease apart the tangle of emotions Damien is giving off. “Why risk getting on the AM’s radar for one guy?”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m already on their radar, thanks to his fucking sister of all people-”

“His sister?”

“Yeah. Dr Bright.”

Caleb’s brain grinds to a halt. “Dr Bright?”

“You know her?”

“Dr Bright is Mark’s sister?”

“Uh, yeah. How do you not know that?” Confusion spills into the car, ricocheting back and forth between them.

“Mark’s last name is Bryant- fuck, of course it’s a fucking code name.”

He turns to look at Mark’s sleeping form with new eyes. It’s there, underneath the layers of trauma Tier 5 piled on top of him - in the curve of his jaw, the crook of his nose.

His former therapist is still ruining his life years after he last saw her.

“Can you just drive?” he asks suddenly. The need to flee sits between them like a bomb about to go off, a timer counting down, panic climbing his throat. He can’t think straight with those lifeless grey buildings still looming on the horizon.

“We’ll come back to this,” Damien says with a pointed look. “But sure, kid. I hate this place as much as you.”

“I very much doubt that,” Caleb laughs darkly.

He’ll be back soon, he promises himself, as that hell begins to vanish behind the trees lining the curving road.

He’ll burn the whole fucking place to the ground.

#the bright sessions #caleb michaels #mark bryant #damien the bright sessions #fanfiction #own work #morgan writes

[chaoticdean]

for the prompt destiel + roadtrip pls 💜

Well... It is common knowledge by now that I don't have any self-control when it comes to writing, but I think it's safe to say that I didn't intend on writing a full 4K one-shot laced with Zeppelin references when I received this prompt!

Regardless, I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 

[READ ON AO3]

“You ready to go, Cas?” Dean asks as he lowers his head to watch him, sitting shotgun inside his beloved Impala, “What are you doing with these?”

“I can’t find the tape, Dean.”

“What tape?”, Dean is fairly sure he knows what Castiel is looking for but he complies anyway, “there’s like, at least 30 tapes in there and I have another box in the trunk if we get tired of all of these”.

Dean smiles at the former angel as he raises his head from the box to look at him, a look of despair inside his eyes. His hair is a glorious mess (as per usual), he’s way more tanned than he used to be (probably from the long hours he now spends outside in the garden they’ve grown next to the bunker) and he’s wearing a pair of blue jeans and a dark t-shirt that have been borrowed from Dean, probably.

Every single time Dean looks at him his heart misses a beat.

“Your tape. I can’t find it. The one you gave me, with your top 13 Zeppelin tracks?”

“Oh. You still have that?”

Oh. The tape I put my heart on and gave to you so that you’d have something to remind you I still existed all these times you found a reason to leave me? You still have it?

God fucking bless.

Dean Winchester has a lot of good and enjoyable sides, but being smooth ain’t one of them.

“Of course I still have that”, Castiel answers with an exasperated sigh before he starts shoving things again inside the Impala’s glove box, “and I can’t find it. Dean, we can’t leave without it.”

“It’s that important?”

Well, shit. If Cas is ready to postpone the road trip they’ve been prepping for for weeks now, let alone over a cassette tape, it really must mean a lot to him.

Not that it’s making Dean giddy on the inside, thank you very much.

“Cas?”

“What, Dean? I’m not leaving without —“

He stops when he raises his head again only to see Dean holding said tape between his fingers, a smile on his face.

There are so many emotions roaming over Castiel’s face that Dean almost feels like he’s sitting on a rollercoaster.

“It was inside your trench coat’s inner pocket. You’re not wearing it all that much now, so I put it in the wash last night and retrieved the tape before it went all Nemo inside the washing machine”, he explains as Castiel watches him with a blank expression, "There, better?”

He extends his arms to give him the cassette tape, and Castiel suddenly retrieves control over his emotions again. He’s been dealing with this a lot recently, as his grace slowly fades away he’s had to come to grasp with humanity again. 

Dean’s heart misses another beat as their fingers grasp lightly, Castiel taking the mixtape from his hand, and it takes a lot out of him no to reach out and keep his hand inside of his.

“Can we go, now?” Dean says as he finally hops in the driver seat

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to put it on?”

“Yes, please.”

Dean smiles as they finally get on the road, Robert Plant’s voice filling the space as they head on the open road. The next three days are entirely theirs until they reach California.

“Ah, sometimes I grow so tired

But I know I've got one thing I got to do

Ramble on

And now's the time, the time is now

To sing my song”

***

It’s close to 2 am when Dean finally gives up and finds a secluded spot to crash for a couple of hours. They've been driving at a solid pace since they left Lebanon 6 hours before, only making a pit stop for food and refreshments, and as much as he loves driving without stopping, he’s not 26 anymore and his body tends to make him bitchy if he doesn’t get his four hours.

Castiel crashed in the backseat for what feels like an hour already. When Dean finally stops the engine and look over at his partner, he can’t help but smile at the sight of several-millennia-old-Cas, sprawled in the backseat of his beloved Baby, dark hair splendidly tousled in 10 different directions, snoring soundly, pressed against Dean’s winter jacket that he’s somehow got his hand on. 

“You’re going to get cold like that, Angel.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, judging by the way Castiel is snoring lightly, he’s pretty far gone already. Dean reaches for the blanket on the quarter-deck and drapes it around Cas. He lingers for a moment, his fingers finding their way to Cas’s hair, stroking nice and slow at his cheek.

There’s something tugging at his heart, a difficult feeling between sadness and love, a pain that he can never quite get to cease. Sometimes it breaks as he watches Cas struggle with his humanity, and suddenly breathing becomes difficult.

It’s not fair, what Castiel has to go through after everything they had to bear. They saved the world, they defeated Chuck, Jack had to return to Heaven, it shouldn’t be this way. It shouldn’t be on Cas to suffer, it shouldn’t be that easy for them.

Suddenly there are two pools of ocean blues starring at him, as his thumb makes his way through Cas’s jawline. 

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe the feeling of Castiel’s warm skin and light stubble under his fingertips is too tender for him to let go, so he doesn’t, and cups his cheek instead.

There’s a fond smile on Castiel’s lips, “you need to get some sleep, Dean”, his voice is heavy with sleep like he’s second away of drifting off again.

“I know, Angel. I just didn’t want you to catch a cold”, he smiles back at him.

And it’s true, there’s no lie in his words, but he also really wish he could just hop in the backseat and lie against him to keep him warm.

“‘mfine”, Cas grumbles, eyes shutting on impact.

He’s back to snoring in a nano-second, and Dean can’t help but release a laugh. He retrieves his hand then, still taking a moment to gaze at him, how the faint light from the road makes his features stand out in the relative dark.

“I love you, Angel”, he murmurs then, in the comfort and silence of his car, starring at the ceiling, “I know it’s tough, I know you’re struggling, but I’m here. And I love you. I love you, Cas.”

Because it’s easier to admit how much he feels for him in the darkness and soundless night, rather than having to stare at it in the bright light of day.

I love you, and it’s not fair that you have to go through all of this on your own, it’s not fair that you’re the one that has to suffer and lose your identity. 

I love you, and I’m scared because I’m used to you leaving, and I don’t think I can make it through if you leave again.

I love you, and it’s dark and terrifying and I wish I had the nerve to tell you, but I’m too afraid, cause what if you laugh? What if I’m not enough? What if it’s one-sided? I can't lose you. Not now, not ever. And if I have to swallow this up and bottle my feelings back up again I will do it in a heartbeat. What’s more than a lifetime when it’s been more than a decade, anyway?

I love you, with all that’s left in me, with all the ferocity of the last decade we just went through.

I love you, Cas. Can’t you see?

He falls asleep then, to the sound of Castiel’s slow breathing.

***

It’s already been a day since Dean and Castiel left the bunker to join Sam and Eileen in California, and Cas is sinking into a melancholic state he’s never quite experienced before.

He used to think cars were slow and void of meaning, cold and loud when he could just use his wings to travel the world in a flap. But of course, that was long before, in a time where he was still a defender of Heaven in all his glory, before he fell, and chose Humanity, and betrayed, and loved.

Before the Winchesters. Before Free Will. Before Dean. 

But now as he awakes lying in the backseat to the voice of the hunter softly singing, the sound of the engine rumbling firmly against his chest and the sun rising slowly?

Road tripping was the best idea they had in a solid couple of months.

“I've really been the best of fools 

I did what I could, yeah 

'Cause I love you, baby 

How I love you, darling.”

Dean’s slightly off-key, as he usually is, but Castiel doesn’t mind and takes great pleasure in quietly watching him as he drums his way along the steering wheel, singing like he doesn’t give a damn if anyone’s listening. The edges of his hair look gold because of the way the sunlight catches his features, his eyes shining like tiny emeralds. 

“Everybody trying to tell me 

That you didn't mean me no good

I've been trying, Lord, let me tell you

Let me tell you I really did the best I could.”

He looks beautiful. Happier than Castiel has seen him in several weeks — actually, scratch that, months — and it makes his heart flutter.

“Hey, Sunshine. Did Winchester Motel treat you well?” Dean smiles as he finally catches sight of him being awake in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah… Although, I think my back might disagree with me”, he grimaces as he returns to a normal upright position, “where are we?”

“We’re somewhere in Arizona. I think… Do you wanna stop for coffee? I’m starving, and it's not like we’re in a hurry.”

“Said the guy who decided to drive all night instead of stopping in a motel”, Cas quickly replies sarcastically. 

“I did stop, actually. I slept for like 4 hours. You were sleeping like a baby in that backseat, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I remember. You put a blanket around me.”

“Yeah. Didn’t want you to catch a stupid cold.”

Castiel can see the fond smile on the hunter’s lips and it takes everything in him not to reach out and kiss it away. 

It’s fresh, intricate, delicate even, this thing between them. Cas feels like it’s always been there, a tick veil inside his heart that he could never quite let go until a few months back, after they defeated Chuck, after Jack stepped up and Castiel, Angel of the Lord, slowly fade away. 

It comes in touches and little things, from the way Dean will sometimes extend his arm over the seat of the Impala to brush lightly at the hair on the nape of his neck, to buying things specifically for him when he goes grocery shopping. 

Or the way he gently touched his face and hair last night, the way his eyes glimmered with something dangerous and good. Cas wished he’d have reached out to him at that point, dragged him into the backseat, and fell back asleep against him, safe.

And of course, there’s this time both of them had a little too much to drink alone in the bunker, and Cas accidentally brushed his lips over Dean’s, his dirty blonde hair gloriously wild and his green eyes shimmering with something Cas couldn’t even comprehend.

It’s been weeks, and he still can’t forget. How soft Dean’s lips felt against him, how good it felt to finally let go of all the pretend, how hard he shivered when a deep moan escaped from Dean’s throat.

It’s been weeks and he still wants it all. 

“Baby, since I've been loving you

I'm about to lose

I'm about to lose, lose my worried mind 

Just one more, just one more, oh yeah

Since I've been loving you, I'm about to lose my worried mind.”

***

“Can we listen to your mixtape again?”

“Yeah, sure. What is it with you and that tape again?”

Did you figure out that I gave it to you to tell you I’d always be there, no matter how pissed I could be at you? Did you figure out it’s like I gave you my heart for you to keep, forever?

“You made it for me. It’s the first gift I’ve ever been given. It means everything to me.”

Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that, Castiel’s brutal honesty. It’s been years, but sometimes it still takes him by surprise.

He lets Cas fumble with the player, and then Plant’s voice is filling the space again, as they race their way through Arizona under pouring rain.

“Then as it was, then again it will be

And though the course may change sometimes

Rivers always reach the sea

Blind stars of fortune, each have several rays

On the wings of maybe, down in birds of prey

Kind of makes me feel sometimes, didn't have to grow

But as the eagle leaves the nest, it's got so far to go.”

***

“Do you wanna stop for the night, find a motel, or are we Winchestering in the backseat again?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere, I don’t think we’ll find a motel.”

“Well, probably not for the next hundred miles, no, but I can keep going.”

“I don’t mind sleeping there again.”

“Okay, back to Winchester Motel it is, then.”

They stop for dinner north of Phoenix, stopping for a couple of hours to stretch their legs, enjoy warm food, and a couple of drinks. 

Dean can see that Cas is tipsy when they stop for the night, finding a spot to park the Impala next to a gigantic field. It’s clear in the way he speaks, his voice slightly hoarse and his eyes shimmering differently than usual. 

He extends his arm to brush at Castiel’s shoulder to get the angel to look at him.

“Are you in the mood for some star gazing?”

“We’re gonna be freezing.”

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll get a couple of blankets, and then we can crash inside when we’ve had enough. Deal?”

“Deal.”

There’s a faint smile on Castiel’s face as he exits the car to go sit on the hood of the Impala, Dean then climbing next to him with blankets minutes after. He’s already watching the sky when he joins in, his eyes staring in the distance.

“You okay, Cas?”, Dean asks, mildly concerned.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you’re… different.”

“I could say the same thing about you, you know?”

“Why is that?”

I’m the same I’ve always been, mind you Angel of the goddamn Lord.

“I don’t know. It’s like you’re a different person than when we’re in the bunker. You feel… lighter. Happier. I like this you.”

“Do I need to feel offended that you don’t like bunker-me?”, Dean asks with a smile, finally lying next to him, his eyes raised to the sky. 

The night is clear and yeah, it is kinda cold, but blankets should do the tricks.

And if it doesn’t, well… 

“No, don’t get me wrong, I like bunker-you, it’s just… Nice, seeing you like this.”

“Yeah, well. Give me my car, my angel, and an open-road, that’s all I need.”

Did he really just said my angel?

“Not an angel anymore, you know that”, Cas smiles faintly, lowering his gaze to look at the hunter, locking-eyes with him.

“Maybe not semantically speaking, but you’ll always be my angel.”

Oh for fuck’s sake, Winchester, you don’t have any alcohol to excuse this on, you know that, right?

But Cas just smiles at him, and Dean’s heart just grows ten sizes watching his face light up. The former angel takes his gaze back to the stars then, a light smile still painted on his lips, but Dean can't tear his gaze away from him and the way the dull light of the moon makes his face stand out in the dark. 

God, you’re beautiful.

“You know we’ve got you, right?”, he says after a while, finally taking his gaze away from him.

When Cas doesn’t respond, Dean keeps going, “I know it’s tough but we’re always gonna be on your side. I’m always gonna be there.”

It’s not a promise, and merely a statement. Castiel knows, Dean is pretty sure, but he needs to say it out loud for him to comprehend.

“I know.”

They’re quiet for a moment, watching the stars without talking, the silence sitting comfortably between them. 

But then Dean can feel Cas shivering.

“Okay, let’s hop in the backseat. I don’t want you losing any toe because I left you to freeze on the hood for an hour too long.”

“It’s fine, I like it here.”

“Cas, you’re shivering like we’re in the middle of Minnesota in January.”

“Oh.”

Dean rolls his eyes at that because of course, only Castiel wouldn’t realize he’s actually really cold and respond with a simple “Oh.”

“Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He watches as Castiel lay in the backseat, and throws him several blankets to make sure he doesn’t get too cold. But no matter what he does, the angel keeps shivering. He’s got 3 blankets and Dean’s winter jacket on, but somehow it still isn’t enough.

“Let me grab some more stuff from the trunk.”

“Dean.”

He stops before exiting the car, Castiel’s baby blues locked in his.

“Just… just come here.”

“W—What?”

“The only way we’re both not freezing to death is if we sleep together in the backseat. I think you know that?”

“Yeah, but… Look, not like I don’t see the appeal of sleeping with you, but it’s not gonna be comfortable for you, Cas.”

Holy hell, do you even hear yourself, Winchester?

But Cas just smiles at him, grasping at his hand to urge him to join him.

“I’ll take sleeping with you in the backseat of the Impala and sharing the warmth to freezing to death alone in the backseat right in the middle of Arizona any day, Dean Winchester.”

“God, what a sap.”

It takes them a minute to find the right way to position themselves so that it’s comfortable for both of them. Dean ends up lying between Cas’s legs, his head resting in the crook of his neck. He can feel Cas steady breathing, his arms tight around his waist.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?”, he whispers, his lips so close to Castiel’s skin he can feel his warmth on the tip of his tongue.

“No. No, you’re not. It’s actually quite enjoyable.”

“Yeah?”

Yeah, I fucking bet it is. It’s actual Heaven.

“See? I’m not shivering anymore.”

“Are you trying to tell me you were right?”

“I’m not trying, I’m telling.”

He knows there’s a smug smile on Castiel’s lips without having to check.

And suddenly there’s Castiel hand carding lightly through his hair, and he swears to fucking God it takes everything in him not to release anything resembling a moan. 

He dives in the moment then, shifting closer, a slight shiver coursing through his body at the sensation of Castiel’s hand softly going through his hair.

“Is that okay?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I can stop if you want me to.”

And maybe it’s the moment itself that makes Dean feeling smug enough, or maybe he can blame it on his weariness later, but it’s then that he kisses Castiel’s skin where his shoulder meets his neck, where it’s warm and inviting and it smells like sleep and all the things Dean knows he does not deserve.

There’s a finger under his chin then, and Castiel lifts his face up to make the hunter look at him. Dean’s heart misses a beat when he sees the smile on his friend’s lips. 

Dean has shared a lot of kisses in his life. Some were good. Many were great.

And not a single one can compete with this one.

Dean props himself up on his elbows, biting lightly at Cas bottom lip as he runs his thumb along the rough stubble of Castiel’s jaw. There’s a desperate moan rising from the back of Cas’s throat, echoing through his entire body as their lips press together again, sinking in shared pleasure.

For a few blessed moments, it’s like nothing exists outside of Castiel’s mouth, Castiel’s hands making their way over his skin, Castiel’s breathing syncing with his. There’s no one else in the world and they’re the only one left living in the instant, the world narrowing down to each and every single one of their touch. 

Dean is almost sure he could sink and never make it back to the surface, and he wouldn’t even find it in him to care.

Cas breaks the kiss then, only to breathe Dean’s name, his voice frayed and gasping for air. Dean leans forward again, and they share another kiss; It’s deeper and perhaps more desperate this time, filled with a loud echo of love that carves its way into Cas’s heart.

And it doesn’t have to be fast, it doesn’t need to sloppy, or stolen, Dean realizes as he looks into the angel’s eyes. They have time, if they want to give themselves a shot. 

They have all the time in the world, and nowhere else to go.

And kissing Cas? Kissing Cas feels like coming Home.

***

The morning light is soft, inviting even, as it frames Dean’s hair into golden drops. Castiel allows himself to think for a moment that every morning could be like this, waking up warm and safe, his body pressed up against Dean soundly asleep. For a fleeting moment, he thinks about how the first thing he’d feel would be the weight of Dean’s body on his own, the steady breathing of the hunter tickling his skin. 

It doesn’t have to be a one-time thing, does it? 

***

Dean is in Heaven. There are no other possibilities, no way this is the real world. 

“Hey.”

His voice sends shivers down the hunter’s spine as he shifts against Castiel to look at his face. 

“Hey. How’s your back?”

I don’t give a shit about your back. What are we playing, here? Do we pretend like nothing has happened?

“It’s fine. Come here.”

It’s chilly in the car but Dean doesn’t even register, as Castiel captures his mouth with his. They both have horrible morning breath and he doesn’t give a flying fuck, because it’s Cas and he’s kissing him like nothing else matters.

“My head kind of hurts, though”, Castiel says as their lips parts, and Dean can’t help but rumble a laugh out.

“Tequila is a wicked thing, angel”, Dean answers, biting kisses into the cut of his jaw, “Wait until we get coffee inside of you and you should feel a bit better.”

“You’re not wrong.”

It’s 6 am and it feels unreal, and I’m lying here against you like there’s nothing easiest in the world. Do we have a right? Are we allowed? Are they gonna take it back from us if we even try?

Dean doesn’t know the answers to his own question, but as Castiel maps the contour of his mouth with his tongue, his hand clutching at his sides like he’s about to drift away to paradise, he doesn’t think it matters.

As long as they have each other.

***

They’re finally crossing into California when Castiel puts the tape on again, and his beloved favorite band starts playing again, words and melody echoing on the ridges of the Impala.

“If the sun refused to shine 

I would still be loving you 

Mountains crumble to the sea 

There will still be you and me”

He smiles then, reaching out to take Castiel’s hand inside of his, raising it to his mouth to kiss his knuckles softly.

“You okay, Angel?”

“Yes. I just… I’m gonna miss this. You and me, the road…”

“Hey”, Dean interrupts and the angel looks up at him again, “we’re not going anywhere, you and me. And both the road and the car will be waiting for us to go Home in a few weeks.”

Dean Winchester has a lot of good and enjoyable sides, and most of the time, he makes good use of it.

And maybe it’s Castiel’s hand firmly linked inside of his, or maybe it’s the way his eyes linger on the side of his face as the angel watches the landscape change, or maybe he’s just not so afraid anymore, so he lets it go.

“I love you.”

Castiel smiles, his eyes still fixed on the outside world, but his voice is steady, unwavering.

“I love you too, Dean.”

“And so today, my world it smiles 

Your hand in mine, we walk the miles 

Thanks to you it will be done 

For you to me are the only one

Happiness, no more be sad 

Happiness, I'm glad.”

Send me a quick prompt, and I’ll do my best!

#i......... did a thing? i think? #i’m really apprehensive of what you guys are going to think so please let me know #deans top 13 zepp traxx #destiel #deancas #destiel ficlet #deancas ficlet #led zeppelin #jus writes #a tumblr prompts collection

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Daffodils Bloom After Winter

Ao3

Chapter 9: The Lowest of Lows

The window looked like a waterfall as the rain streamed down the glass. The light played across the water, painting ribbons of white over Shikadai’s face as he gazed out. He’d hoped after the small sprinkle the other day that the weather would improve, but it had only grown worse. Now, a torrent poured from the sky, and thunder rumbled in the thick gray clouds. 

I don’t want to go home, but it’s getting late, Shikadai thought with a small groan and cast a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. The minute hand was inching closer and closer to six p.m. He certainly didn’t want to trudge home in the rain and the dark. However, whenever thunderstorms choked the sky, his father’s mood plummeted to all-time lows. He’d be despondent, irritable, and maybe even delusional. Shikadai had borne witness to more hallucination fits than he would’ve liked. 

Ino would let him stay the night if he asked. He knew that by the way she was staring at him, pretending to lock down the register to finish closing up the shop. He’d done it more than once. 

But… It would make Miss Ayumi happy if I worked on my relationship with him, Shikadai thought with a frown. He couldn’t avoid his father forever, and though there were good days and bad days, things were getting better overall. She would say that it’s important to be there for him in his hard times. He knew that, but still… The idea of going home to his father when he was probably in a near-manic state made him a bit nauseous. 

His eyes wandered around the shop instead, never settling on the colorful blooms Ino so dutifully tended until he spotted one nestled between two large bouquets. He could just barely see it, a hint of bright yellow between deep green. He walked over to the shelf and pushed the larger pots aside to reveal a single potted daffodil. He picked it up, tilting his head as he inspected the strange-looking flower. Despite its funny, trumpet-like appearance, he rather liked it. 

“Ah, found that one, did you?” he heard Ino hum in amusement over his shoulder, and he turned to see her standing beside him, dusting the last bit of soil from her apron before untying it. “A strange one, that little flower. Daffodils normally bloom in autumn, yet there’s this guy, flowering in summer.” 

Shikadai looked back to the daffodil, then smiled. Going against the grain, trying to get a head start on life, huh? he fancied. “Would you like it?” Ino asked him suddenly, and he looked up at her again. “I probably won’t be able to sell it. It’s really quite small, and out of season, at that. You can have it if you want.” 

“I don’t want it, but… Miss Ayumi loves plants. I bet she would like it.” 

“I bet she would,” Ino smiled and patted the top of his head. He hugged the daffodil close to his body and took a deep breath; it felt like the strength of that flower to bloom also gave him the strength to face his father’s undoubtedly bad mood. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Ino pressed when he turned back towards the door, and he shook his head with a grateful smile. 

“No. I know how Dad gets when it storms like this… The least I can do is be there for him.” 

“You’re really growing up,” Ino sighed as if he were her own child. With as much time he’d spent here in the last year, he supposed that it was warranted. She played with his shirt, as if trying to bundle him up against the cold. “Ayumi would be proud to hear you say that.” He swelled with pride at her words, which made Ino’s smile soften. “I’m glad she’s there to support you. She’s a wonderful person.” 

“Yeah, she really is,” he agreed with a look at the daffodil. “She’s helped me a lot… I hope she can help Dad, too.” 

“She will,” she encouraged. “Your father just needs time. With the both of you supporting him, I think Shikamaru will finally be able to heal.” Shikadai sure hoped so because if Ayumi couldn’t fix him, he doubted that anything could. 

Ino sent him off with one of Inojin’s rain jackets, though he insisted he was all right with just his umbrella. He ended up being grateful for it, for the wind whipped the rain up in splattering gales that not even his umbrella could protect him from. He sheltered the daffodil under the rubbery protection of his raincoat while he splashed quickly through the sodden streets, mud spattering up his legs despite his best attempts to avoid the deep puddles. He was a right soaking-wet mess by the time he arrived home, but he was delighted to see that his daffodil had escaped the worst of it, only dusted with a thin layer of dewdrop mist. 

The wind rattled the front door, like an ominous omen that a beast prowled within. Shikadai stared at it for several moments, but when the wind howled furiously behind him, he forced himself to step inside lest he drown in the buckets of rain. Holding the daffodil to his chest like a lifeline, he cautiously edged through the gloom of the house toward the living room. He could hear his father’s feverish footsteps echoing in the shadows. 

Shikadai found his father circling the couch, his face pale and sweaty. Round and round like a feral beast he paced the floor until the thunder rolled overhead, when he stopped and flinched down with a gasp. After a second of trembling and staring at a vision Shikadai couldn’t see, he would resume his endless commute. Mumbles tumbled from his lips, and amidst the inane babble, Shikdai heard his mother’s name more than once. 

“Father?” he called in a gentle voice. He knew better than to startle Shikamaru when he was like this. Once, in his delirium, he’d mistaken his son as an enemy ninja and sprang on him. It took far too long for Shikadai’s screams and sobs to reach his ears. He’d had to wear turtlenecks for a week to hide the finger-shaped bruises on his neck, and even longer for Shikadai not to look at him in fear. 

Shikadai didn’t fear his father anymore. He pitied him, and he missed him, missed the way he used to be and used to smile. 

Shikamaru twitched, an action that made Shikadai reflexively take a few steps back. However, when Shikamaru looked at him, he didn’t see the feral flash of hatred, but the tired gaze of a begrieved man. 

“You’re home,” he croaked, and Shikadai just nodded. “... I”m surprised,” he admitted while casting a gaze to the window, watching the rain beat against the glass. The wind rattled the pane, shaking it in the wall to fill the air with an ominous clattering. 

Shikadai swallowed before replying, “I… I didn’t want you to be alone, Father.” 

Shikamaru cast his gaze to the floor. His shadow was swallowed up by the gloom of the room— that is, until the lightning flashed fiercely outside, throwing light across the room. Shikamaru’s shadow cowered with him, and when the thunder finished rumbling, Shikamaru was pressing the heel of his hand into his eye with a grimace. 

“You’re better off somewhere else, or at least out of my sight,” he grumbled. Shikadai knew that the words came from a place of worry, not of hatred, but he still cringed at them. “It’s not safe… when I’m like this.” As if to prove it, the sky rumbled furiously again; Shikamaru roared and whipped around, flinging a kunai knife through the window. Shikdai screamed as the glass shattered. The wind leaped in through the jagged hole in the glass, bringing the rain with it. They both just stared at the rapidly-growing puddle of water on the wood. 

It was frightening. It always was, seeing his father struggle to hang on to his sanity as the thunderstorm raged overhead. Even so… Shikadai had to support him. That was what family was supposed to do— support one another through their lowest of lows. 

“Father, I don’t want to run away anymore,” Shikadai insisted, squeezing the potted daffodil under his raincoat. “If we’re going to get through this, we have to be there for each other. I know that’s what Miss Ayumi is trying—” 

“Ayumi isn’t a replacement for your mother, Shikadai!” 

Shikamaru suddenly whipped around, and Shikadai’s strength was sucked from his body, bringing him to his knees in an instant. He had never seen such a look of ferocity in his eyes, even in his psychotic fits. Shikadai began to fiercely quake, every inch of his body shaking like he was suffering an awful chill— and he was, the cold pit of dread spreading from his belly to taint every nerve within him. 

He was scared. He was so scared. He didn’t want his father to look like that. He was scared, and he had nobody to hold him, nobody to tell him why his father just wouldn’t listen, nobody to explain that Shikamaru was just as scared as he was.

Somehow, Shikadai managed to whisper, “I didn’t say that she was.” 

Shikamaru blinked, and the fire in his eyes dwindled, settling back to those dead coals of despair. As if released by a spell, Shikadai lurched over, huddling over the daffodil with his belly roiling so much that he gagged a little, on the verge of retching. He managed to swallow the urge, though, and then the tears came. Bitter tears, frustrated tears, angry tears all in rapid succession— they puddled with the rainwater beneath him, swirling together into a salty mess. Just like his family, a mess. 

“I just want you to get better,” he hissed through clenched teeth. He wasn’t even sure if Shikamaru could hear him, but he said it anyway. “I just want… I don’t want to see you suffer anymore.” He was yelling now, whipping up his head to shout through the tears and snot running rivers down his face. “I can’t live like this anymore, Dad! I won’t! I don’t care what it takes! I don’t care how many times you yell at me, or grab me, or shake me, or even choke me! I’m not goin’ anywhere, so stop trying to push me away!” 

Shikamaru stared at him. His eyes were wide onyxes in his pale face, but he didn’t say anything— he just stared. Agonized, Shikadai clenched his fists against the wood. 

“For better or for worse, all we have is each other,” he said, voice cracking with a sob. “That’s all we’ve got, and I’m not letting go of that. So you sit here and sulk all ya want, Dad. I’m going to my room.” He pushed himself to his feet, gathered up the daffodil, and stomped off down the hallway while furiously scrubbing the tears from his face. Yet like the rain outside, they kept pouring.

As soon as Shikadai slammed the door shut behind it, he collapsed back against it, sinking down to a sitting position. He hugged the daffodil to his chest as he cried, and his father’s words echoed in his head. 

“Ayumi isn’t a replacement for your mother, Shikadai!” 

Of course she wasn’t. Nothing could ever replace his bright, beautiful mom. But that didn’t mean that someone couldn’t fill the void, right? Isn’t that what she would want? For someone to take care of them, to love them as she would, to bring happiness and light back into this broken home? 

He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe so badly that’s what his mother wanted. He wanted to believe that she guided Ayumi to them because she couldn’t bear to see them suffer anymore, couldn’t bear to watch the family she loved so much torn apart by her overwhelming absence. 

Sobs bordering on wails echoed through Shikadai’s room as he howled with the wind, thick globs of tears pouring down his face to splash down onto the daffodil’s yellow petals. And as he cracked his eyes open, looking at the colors of the daffodil kaleidoscoping in his watery vision, he was overwhelmed by a simple desire: Ayumi.

She couldn’t replace his mother, but she could hold him, she could comfort him, she could weather him through this terrible storm. And so he found himself wrenching open his window to climb out onto the muddied yard, mud splashing up his legs as he ran back out onto the street with the daffodil clutched to his chest. He squinted against the sheets of pounding rain and the water pouring down his forehead into his eyes. With the road beginning to flood, forming a swampy network of puddles, he didn’t see the rock sticking up from the muck until it was too late. 

It collided with his toe and he fell right over it, flinging the pot several yards in front of him. He landed on his hands and knees, mud splashing up all over his front and into his face. He spit the disgusting stuff out of his mouth, coughing, and then looked up with a gasp. There in the middle of the street, the pot lay broken in two, and the torrential rain had washed all the soil away. Shikadai scrambled to get up, feet slipping and sliding in the mud for several seconds before the soles of his shoes finally gained traction. He plucked the daffodil just as it started to be swept away into a stream, and he cradled its limp form gently in his hands. 

“No,” he whispered brokenly. Was he destined to be this daffodil, swept away in these never-ending storms of sadness? No, that couldn’t be, he wouldn’t let it be! All he needed was someone to pot him again, to tend to him and give him gentle love and care— and he knew where to find that. Holding the daffodil close, he took off running again. 

The storm had reached its peak by the time Shikadai made it to Ayumi’s house. The sky was drenching the earth with a vendetta; the sheets of rain were so thick that Shikadai could hardly see two feet in front of him, and the howling gales buffeted him at every turn, making him unsteady on his feet. He half-ran, half-slid across Ayumi’s yard to stumble up onto his porch, where he collapsed into a heap, panting heavily. 

The cold rain had drenched him down to his very cells, it felt like. He was shivering again, feeling like frost was growing in his bones. Still, he summoned up the strength to rap his knuckles against the door. Then that strength gave out, and he flopped down on his side. He curled up around the daffodil, sheltering it from the cold rain with his dwindling body heat. He stroked a finger over one of its dewy petals, watching the yellow blur with his fading vision until it was all just gray-white nothingness. 

“I just want us to get better.”

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #boruto #naruto next generations #nara shikamaru #nara shikadai #naruto oc

[jacklyn-flynn]

The wedding night of Briall and Zevran is here! It is 87% smut. (Including a kink I haven’t written before!) You can find it here on AO3!

Zevran walked quickly through the forest with Briall against his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders. Her lips on his neck and ear were incredibly distracting. Despite the bright moon, he found himself tripping occasionally. Her bright laughter in his ear made his whole body burn with need. She truly was magical. 

“You aren’t lost, are you?” she whispered in his ear before biting the tip. The tips of his ears were one of his erogenous spots. At least with her. It always sent a shiver down his spine. 

“Not lost,” he said, his arms squeezing her legs, “merely trying to get to our destination before I am forced to take you in the forest because I cannot resist your charms anymore.” 

“Our little liaison in the forest the other night wasn’t so bad.” Her reminder made him groan. Half clothed and frantic with her moans and cries echoing into the night. He had to keep his composure. Just a little bit longer. 

The trees stopped, framing an enormous hole in the ground. Tall grass that tickled her ankles grew up to the edge and she could see vines and creeping flowers disappearing into the darkness. “Where exactly are we going?” Briall asked skeptically. “I know this was short notice and our resources are limited, but a pit of despair was not what I thought you would have in mind.”

He released her legs and she dropped to the ground, walking closer to the edge to look down into the hole. “It is not a ‘pit of despair’,” he sounded wounded, though only playfully so, “it is a swimming hole.” He stood with her on the edge and bent to look over. “Would you be so kind as to provide us light, mi amore?” 

Soft balls of fairy lights sprang from her palm and drifted down into the hole. Flowering vines and foliage clung to the rough rock walls. The water below seemed to soak up the light and glowed a brilliant turquoise that faded into an inky blackness much further down. Petals that had been shed by the flowers growing along the walls floated on the glassy surface. 

“Shall we take a swim?” His voice, so close to her ear, surprised her. She turned her head to look at him and she couldn’t resist stealing a kiss. When Zevran pulled away, he laid a kiss on the tip of her nose, then her forehead. 

“Do you have a plan to get us out of there? It has to be 30 feet down.” Looking into the basin again, she watched the lights hover and swirl over the water. 

“You wound me, tesoro. Of course, I have a plan.” He started to shed his clothes, setting them in a pile without bothering to fold them. “There is a cave system below. It leads back into the forest and toward town. And no,” -he cut off before she could ask- “it is not like the caves we have had the misfortune to frequent in the past. It is quite dry and warm and spider-free.” 

She let out an exaggerated sigh and started to pull her shirt over her head. Before she could get it over her face, he captured her wrists. He pulled up the neck of her shirt to reveal just her lips, which were curled into an amused smile. Zevran’s kiss was incredibly light and far too fleeting. Her tongue ran over her full lower lip, enticing him back for a real kiss. 

His lips pressed to hers, slanting slowly but with increasing urgency. She hummed in pleasure and opened her mouth to him but he pulled away before he lost himself. Releasing her wrists, he helped her pull her shirt off and dropped it onto the ground. Her dark lashes raised slowly and she pierced him with her emerald eyes. It took his breath away. He watched with rapt fascination as she quickly shed the rest of her clothes. She stood pale in the moonlight, porcelain skin marred by small, faded scars but perfect nonetheless. Her fire orange hair fell over her shoulders. The little white flowers from the ceremony were still scattered in her locks. 

He made a small gesture and she turned around for him. With deft hands, he unwound the braid and took it out, letting the silky strands slide through his fingers. Drawing her hair back, he kissed her shoulder gently, then her neck. “Are you ready to jump with me, mi amore?” he whispered into her ear.

Closing her eyes, Briall recited the words that he had spoken to her at the gates of Denerim. It seemed like it was so long ago, but she would never forget those words. “In truth, for the chance to be by your side I would storm the Dark City itself. Never doubt it."

The hand on her shoulder tightened and she heard his breath hitch. He stood stock-still behind her. Laying her hand over his, she turned to look over her shoulder. “Are you okay, Zev?” 

Turning her slowly, he kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her to squeeze her against him. “I am speechless, tesoro.” 

Briall slid her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. With her head tucked under his chin and cheek pressed against his chest, she could hear his rapid heartbeat. “Alistair will never believe it.” 

She felt his frame shake with laughter. “Indeed, he will not.” Zevran agreed, releasing her. Walking to the edge, he held out his hand for her. Stepping up beside him, she grasped it, lacing their fingers together. At the same time, they jumped. 

It felt like they were falling forever. Briall expected the water to be frigid, but as she plunged into the pool, she was surrounded by warmth. She’d lost Zevran’s hand when they hit the water. Breaking through the surface with a gasp, she pushed her hair away from her face. 

She turned in the water, looking for her husband. The lights she’d conjured continued to float lazily above her head, making the water sparkle in odd patterns along the rock walls. With a shout of surprise, she felt hands slide up the back of her calves and thighs. As Zevran pushed his way to the surface, his hands continued to roam her body. When he came up for air he pushed his hair back with a flirtatious grin.

“What do you think, tesoro?” She looked back up the basin and the moon high above them. The flowering vines looked even more beautiful standing out against the dark sky. 

“I think that I have never regretted trusting you before and I certainly don’t now.” Looking over at him she swam a little closer. “Did you want to swim for a while or…” 

His brow raised as Briall trailed off. He seemed to think about it for a moment, humming as he did. “‘Or’. I think I shall pick ‘or’. There will be time to swim later.”

“Much later?” Briall asked hopefully. 

“Oh, mi amore. Much, much later.” His voice just dripped with sultry hunger.

#zevran arainai #briall surana #now arainai #wedding night #finding home #la prima notte=the first night #butt stuff! #smutty smut #so much smut #you're welcome

[hopesbarnes]

Songbird

Summary: Inspired by the song Songbird. It’s almost time for y/n to go back to Olympus with her mom, but she wants one more day with her love first.

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Persephone!Reader

Warnings: Not much, brief mentions of death, fluff, slight angst

A/N: Bold/italics are song lyrics. This is inspired by the myth of Hades and Persephone but without the whole kidnapping and rape portion. In this version, Hades only asked her out, and they are in love with each other

For you, there'll be no more crying

For you, the sun will be shining 

And I feel that when I'm with you 

It's alright, I know it's right

“It’s almost time for me to go, my love,” you say with such sadness.

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbles back. 

Your love wasn’t the most graceful in his actions, but your love for him never waned. Even when you spent your months away, wishing you were back in his arms. It was unfair the arrangement your father had made, but your mother forced him to do as such. 

You’d think millenniums of doing this would make it easier, but each time came with sorrow and your husband fell into a deep pit of despair. 

“Let’s not waste our time together, however short, on being upset,” you decide. “I want to go out on a date in the mortal realm, something to remind me when I’m away that it’s alright.” 

He looks in your eyes and smiles. It’s a look only a few have seen, never as close as you have. You cherish the thought and wish for everything to go his way in your absence.

To you, I'll give the world

To you, I'll never be cold

'Cause I feel that when I'm with you

It's alright, I know it's right. 

The two of you leave bed and dress for the day. Instead of your usual robes, you both dress in modern styles. Whenever this happens, Bucky (as he prefers to be called these days, the humans had too many stories of Hades) always wears dark jeans and a leather jacket. Whereas you usually wear lighter dresses adorned in flowers. The pair of you working in a way people never imagined. Your light illuminating his darkness, and his darkness enhancing your light.

The two of you go to your shared Mansion above. It was a fight to get a residence that was not in the underworld. But after agreeing it was to be used for a total of a month a year only, his brothers agreed. It was a combination of the two of you, the exterior dark with bright roses growing in the front. The backyard adorned with pomegranate plants, wheat, and cypress trees. Your favorite part of the house is the fireplace, it is where many nights the two of you fall asleep wrapped in each other.   

One of Bucky’s favorite human contraptions is the motorcycle. He owned no fewer than four and loved to take rides on them. 

“They made a death trap, for fun! I swear they have no preservation for their lives.” he had said when he first heard of the vehicle from an unfortunate owner of one. But after getting one, he understood. The wind in his hair and rush of the street below him was addicting. After your first ride, you understood too. 

You decided to take the ‘cycle out for a ride, then a picnic by a waterfall nearby. You changed into dark jeans, a dress was never a good idea for riding. After packing a meal and blanket you took off. 

And the songbirds are singing

Like they know the score 

And I love you, I love you, I love you 

Like never before

The hum of the motorcycle and the way your hair moved in the air gave you a sense of freedom, something you only get with him. Neither of you bothered with helmets, it wasn’t like you could necessarily die. You wrapped your arms around your love and wished that Spring wouldn’t come. 

After parking, you both ventured to your spot. It was one in the woods by a waterfall, one that nobody else had yet to discover. It was inevitable, humans always discovered your secret places but for now, it remained yours. 

“Seph,” he said midway through lunch. He puts his head on your shoulder.

“You should know I don’t go by Persephone anymore, Hades. All the mortals think of when they hear that name is abduction and hate.” you laugh harshly.

“If only they knew all I did was ask you out,” he replies.

“Probably would ruin your street cred,” you tease, “But what was on your mind, my love?” “You could stay. We’ll deal with the consequences together,” he mumbles with his head pressed against your neck.

“Oh, my love, you know that's not true. The world needs their flowers, and my mother would kill every living thing if I stayed. As much as I groan I do love getting to bring happiness to the people with my plants,” you sigh. “I just wish you were with me. I wish we could pause death for a few months.”

He chuckles, “Even if we could, my brothers wouldn’t let me leave my world for that long. Remember the storms they caused when we asked for the home here.”

And I wish you all the love in the world 

But most of all, I wish it from myself

The two of you stay quiet and listen to the birds singing, almost as if they understood your predicament. You wish you could stay here forever, but you have a job and have places you have to be. For now, this will have to be enough.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel fluff #bucky fluff #bucky angst #marvel one shot #song fic #rumors