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mimi-cee-genshin · 8 months

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A Slight of Hand Makes Colour - Lyney x f!reader

Summary: You think Lyney hates you. He's never used his charm on you. Lynette's response? If you look behind his ear, just under the stands of his hair, the answer will magically appear. (A cute and heartwarming getting together fic that I hope will make you smile.)

Other info: fluff, cute, some hurt/comfort, some pining, family, getting together, yes I know it's "sleight of hand", 2.5k words

*****

"Does Lyney hate me?"

You sat in front of the cafe with Lynette, enjoying a late night drink, and typically you'd be enjoying the silence and scenery together. But your thoughts slipped out of your mouth before you could snatch them back, ruining the peaceful moment you were having.

"Forget what I said," you said, eyes darting back to your drink.

Lynette placed her cup down and put a new cake slice on her plate. "Why do you ask?" she said with no hint of shock on her face.

"No. It was a stupid question." You took a sip, hoping she'd drop the topic.

"I see… Have you finally begun to wonder why Lyney has never used his charm on you?" she asked.

Your drink went down your throat the wrong way and you began to cough. "How did you know?" you asked, a little embarrassed.

"I could tell from how you were eyeing him as he welcomed our newest guest," she explained.

Nothing got past Lynette. You knew better than to try to hide anything from her. You'd often wondered if her greatest talent was actually reading minds.

She was right. You had never noticed the slight difference in Lyney's behavior towards you, even though you had known the twins for a long time now. He had always treated you with care and respect, but lately, you felt ill whenever he showered others with his suave words. You used to be happy just to see him smile.

You sighed, knowing exactly why you felt this way. You just didn't want to admit it.

"I think it's the right time to tell you this," Lynette said.

"Hm?" you asked. "Tell me what?"

"There's a reason why Lyney acts differently around you," she said.

You raised your brow, but you placed your cup down anyway and to listen for her next words.

"I'll give you a hint," she said. "If you look behind his ear, just under his strands of hair, you might figure out why he treats you this way."

What? It was always hard to tell what Lynette was thinking because of the lack of emotion on her face. But even if she'd crack a joke once in a while, she wouldn't do so when you had a genuine concern.

Lynette took another sip of her cup and returned back to standby mode, drifting somewhere within the stars.

You weren't sure what to make of her comment

*****

It was four in the afternoon and the workshop needed to be cleaned before you could start any work. You took the vacuum, which Lynette fortunately didn't break yet, and removed the sawdust on the floor from this morning.

Next, you wiped down the workshop's two-way mirror, knowing Lyney would need it to test another trick today. The majority of the cleaning fell on you, which you didn't mind. You used to be a maid after all – a maid to a cold and cruel mistress. You had never expected to see the twins again after her downfall.

Lyney walked to the entrance after the doorbell had rung and greeted the lady here for a delivery. You smiled as he chatted up a storm with her, always happy to meet new people, and he even added a magic trick to top it off.

"And that concludes today's mini show," he said, returning his hat on his head. "With your lovely shirt and trousers, I hope to see your excellent style at my next performance."

Ah. Another compliment, another knot in your stomach.

At the door, Lyney received the package which reached just above his eyes when he carried it. You placed your rag down and got the other package that was left at the front door.

"Thank you, Y/n," he said with a smile.

It was a short and simple statement of appreciation, which you typically didn't mind. Yet, he didn't say, 'Thank you. Whatever would I do without you.' Nor did he say, 'You're just as reliable as always. Why, I must ensure that you never leave us!' You'd often hear these words when he talked to your co-workers.

But not with you.

You placed the package on the table beside the retrofitted vase and the room went quiet. The two of you typically didn't mind a comfortable silence, but today felt different. You went on with your work anyway, cleaning up the scraps on the work table as Lyney worked at his desk. He didn't even hum a tune as he usually did when the others were around. It was only silent with you.

You sighed, thinking you would've noticed earlier if you were as observant as Lynette. You weren't sure if the subtle difference in behavior was something you should be concerned about.

Once you were done cleaning, you peeked over Lyney's shoulder as he sketched out a mechanism he'd need for a trick. He smiled at you and pointed to the drawing, explaining to you how the system worked.

"But if I place this gear here, its axel would obstruct the door of the hidden compartment," he told you. "I'm not really sure how to solve this one."

"I see…" you said, pulling out a stool beside him. "You said the axel needs to be at least an inch long... Could you add a slot for it on the door itself?"

He placed his pencil's end on his cheek. "That could work since it's hidden anyway," he said.

He continued to alternate between thinking and drawing, often erasing his paper and even getting another sheet to redraw it. You had always admired the work he put into his shows. You enjoyed watching him passionate about his craft.

"If you look behind his ear, just under his strands of hair, you might figure out why he treats you this way," Lynette had said.

You lifted your hand up to brush his hair away from his right ear.

Lyney's pencil stopped moving and his hand was frozen in place. "W-what are you doing, Y/n?"

You were right. There was nothing there. You didn't expect anything, but you thought maybe there could've been a secret magic trick the twins set up for you. There was nothing of that sort.

And then you saw it.

"Lyney, why is your ear…"

His hand rushed to cover his ear. "I-It just turns red sometimes. That's all," he explained. "It's unfortunate that most of my tricks are done at a distance, so I don't have any plans to create tricks that involve me turning red."

"What are you even talking about–"

His hand… He was tapping his finger and counting down from five. Lyney would only do this to activate his 'performance mode', when he needed to calm his nerves.

"Lyney, is there something wrong–"

"Oh, would you look at the time... The sun is about to set," he said, leaving his chair.

"Lyney, wait!"

Crash!

The pieces from the broken vase were scattered next to your knees and under the table. Memories flooded back of your mistress's twisted scowl and piercing eyes, and you quickly bowed your head and apologized. Your breathing became shallow and your eyes didn't leave the floor.

A fan of cards appeared in front of your face.

"Now you see them, and now you…"–he pulled the cards together–"Hey, hold on a moment, why didn't the vase disappear?" Lyney said before sighing. "I guess we'll have to do it the old fashioned way."

You looked up to see Lyney's smile and outstretched hand.

"Would you like to be my assistant for today?"

You had never forgotten how you first met Lyney. Two magicians on a secret mission and your mistress and her husband had a lot to hide. And yet, Lyney had taken the time to redirect your mistress's anger and given you a hand, just like he was doing now.

You took his hand and stood to your feet, not once leaving your eyes from his.

"Now, where were… uh…" he said, breaking eye contact. He released his grip from you hand, but you held him even tighter. "You're not going to let go, are you?" he said, running his hand on the back of his neck.

"No," you said. "I'm not."

You wanted an answer. You wanted to hear it – that this man in front of you was attracted to you. A wonderful magician who won you over not only because of his magic tricks and charisma, but also because of his kindness, hard work, and love for his siblings. And yet this same person whom you admired all this time had the tips of his ears burning red at your gentle touch.

"Lyney…" you managed to say. "Do you like me?"

He sighed and laughed a little. "I guess the cat's out of the bag. There isn't a way for me to escape out of this one, is there?"

You shook your head.

He gave you a gentle smile. "Do you remember our second meeting?" he said. "When you showed up at our rendezvous point?"

Panic had covered his face when he saw you instead of Lynette, his posture revealing he wouldn't hesitate to attack you if you had harmed her in any way. You had to quickly explain how you hid Lynette in a storage room after she almost blew her cover.

"You had come up with a detailed plan that helped Lynette escape and sacrificed your own food for her as she hid. And you did all of this while you were terrified of your mistress. How could I not have fallen for you then and there?"

You had never realized that Lynette noticed you gave her your food. You would've done it for anyone, knowing what the punishment would've been if she was caught.

"Anyway, that's the story of my one-sided love. We should really fix up the vase that had fallen earlier," he said, quickly returning to the scattered pieces.

"Lyney, but…"

"Be careful now, or you might get hurt. I wouldn't want to see any tears on that beautiful face of yours–" His eyes saw the mirror behind you before he covered his face. "Um… pretend you didn't see that."

You grabbed his face and pulled it back, observing his red blush up close.

"Uh…" he said, eyes darting away. "What are you doing–"

"You know, I wondered why you never used your smooth words on me," you told him. "Why did you hide it?"

He took your hands from his face and placed them back by your sides. "Nothing good would come out of it," he said with a sigh. "Especially with my association with the Fatui."

"And what if I want to take the risk?" you said, still clinging onto his hand.

"What?"

"You've always meant a lot to me Lyney, even before my feelings turned romantic," you told him. "I've taken risks for you before. And I'm willing to do it again."

He lifted his other hand to fix a strand of hair on your head, gently pushing it back and getting a better look at your face. "You shouldn't do that to yourself, Y/n. You deserve more than that."

"We can work together," you said. "Just like we always have."

He pulled his hand out of your grip. "I… I can't," he told you. "I can't do it. How…" His voice wavered as he turned away from you. "How can I take care of you too?"

A door clicked open and you turned to look behind you. Lynette had walked into the workshop from the other room.

"Oh…" Lyney looked at her with a nervous smile. "Did you see all of that?"

Lynette pointed to the two-way mirror. You wouldn't be surprised if she heard the whole conversation.

"Lyney," she said. "Do you remember when we jumped off the cliff, and you shielded my fall before going unconscious?"

"What?" he said, turning towards her. "How could I forget? That was the day you received your vision."

Lynette placed her hand on her chest. "You've taken care of me so much for as long as I could remember," she said. "But I love you too and care dearly for Y/n as well. So if any issues arise because of your relationship with her, let me help. I'll protect you."

"I…" Lyney lowered his eyes.

"I'll be alright, because as always…" she began.

"... Lynette is by my side," Lyney finished. Yet his shoulders sagged. "I… I don't know Lynette. What if something goes horribly wrong? I don't want Y/n to take the fall too."

"Don't worry," she told him, shaking her head. "I've already gotten some ideas to get you two out of any sticky situation. Keep it a secret as long as possible and I'll prepare for any contingency plans for whatever comes up."

"I'm still not so sure…" he said.

"Both of you are also discreet and know how to keep secrets," she continued. "The rest of the family would be excited and 'Father' would be fine with it as long as she doesn't hinder any missions. We both know that won't be a problem."

You stared at Lynette, amazed she thought all of this through. She really wanted this to work out, wanted us to work out.

Lyney placed his hand on his chin and thought for a long while. Both you and Lynette gave him a chance to think and didn't mind the silence he needed.

"So what's your plan?" he finally asked.

"For now, the biggest issue is that Lyney needs to figure out how to stop blushing." Lynette turned to you. "I figured that giving you the hint would get Lyney the help he needed with that."

"You gave her a hint?" exclaimed Lyney. "About my blushing? Lynette… I told you to keep it a secret."

"It was going to show sooner or later," she said. "Better here in the workshop than in public."

"Oh Lynette…" Lyney whined. "I can't believe you were the one who started this."

The tips of your mouth tugged back into a grin, seeing Lyney's arms relax a little. "So is that all he needs to do?" you asked. "Just stop blushing?"

"It's not that easy," Lyney said, a bit embarrassed. "Which was why I've been cautious with my words around you."

"Then why don't you practice now?" you said with a smile.

"What?"

"Practice flirting me until you can stop going red."

"I… uh…"

"What? Is the great magician who's a master at winning hearts actually at a loss for words?" you teased.

"I can't help it. You leave me breathless," he whined, sounding more like a complaint than a flirty remark. Yet his face turned red once again. He looked up at the two way mirror behind you and covered his face with both hands. "Okay, I need help," he said through his fingers.

"Keep practicing on me," you said with a smile.

"Can't we start tomorrow?"

"Nope. You need to make up for all the times I got jealous."

"You got jealous?"

You giggled as you scooped up his hand. "Of course I did. I just wish Lynette had given me the hint earlier."

*****

I hope you liked it. Please check out my other fics if you're interested. :)

#lyney x reader #lyney fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #lyney #lyney and lynette #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact scenarios #genshin lyney #genshin impact fanfics #genshin scenarios

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softdoctorreid · 2 years

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shaping up | reid x reader

summary: overhearing someone describe him as having a ‘dad bod’ has spencer feeling self-conscious. you decide to surprise him with some news about just how fitting the term is.

• fem!reader

+++ +++ +++

It had been a long case. While it wasn’t too far from home and everybody lived this time, Spencer was exhausted and tired of motel life. All he wanted was to get back to you and return to the domestic bliss of your life together. It was almost harder when the Bureau sent them somewhere that was just far away enough to warrant not traveling back each night - knowing that you were just within driving distance but he couldn’t see you. So when the case closed and the only thing standing between him and an overdue reunion with his wife was wrapping up at the local police station, he was happy to take on any task to get on the road as soon as possible.

While he raced through the station turning in paperwork and signing off on documents, he overheard JJ trying to placate some of the reporters gathered in the lobby. Though she was a profiler now, she still knew the magic words for getting the media to disappear. There were two younger reporters, giggling and glancing back at the table where the team was dismantling the bulletin board.

“Sorry, I just can’t keep all the names straight. Who was the agent at the arrest again? The one with the dad bod?” one of them asked.

“Do you mean Simmons?” JJ asked, turning to point.

The reporter shook her head. “No, he’s totally jacked - I mean the one with the sweater and curly hair?”

“Ohh. I see, that would be Dr. Reid.” This time JJ pointed at him, and the reporters murmured in agreement. He puzzled over it the whole ride back to Quantico. How could they mean him? Simmons was the only member of the team who was a father. But the reporters had seemed so certain. It didn’t make any sense. Determined to solve the mystery, he made a point to walk out with JJ.

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” he explained. “But I overheard you talking with the reporters earlier. Can I ask you – what did they mean when they said I had a… dad bod?”

Jennifer smiled sympathetically at him, the look she often had when he asked something he knew must be obvious to everyone else. “Just a way people are describing a certain body type. It’s based on the way guys with kids tend to stop working out and get a little soft. But don’t worry, it’s not a bad thing,” she added, patting his arm. “According to the internet, dad bods are all the rage right now.”

To Spencer, it sure felt like a bad thing. After all, he wasn’t a dad. What excuse did he have to fall out of shape? Not that he’d ever particularly been in shape, the only physical activity he didn’t completely abhor was the kind that involved you, a private place, and ample foreplay. And he knew he’d gotten a little softer in recent months, but it felt weird to have it pointed out, especially by two strangers.

Simmons was a father, but he looked like he could do one-handed push-ups with every one of his kids on his back. Morgan didn’t lose his trademark abs after Hank’s birth. And then there was him, childless and yet the first one to be pointed out as “soft” without having any reason to be. The thought followed him like a cloud, and by the time he got home his mood was completely dampened.

You noticed the second he walked in the door. “I thought you told me everyone lived this time,” you said.

He tilted his head, confused. “Yeah. They did.”

“Then what’s got you looking so grumpy?” you asked, tracing the tip of your finger over the distinct frown he wore.

He started to dissent but you cut him off with a pointed look that told him it was a lost cause to lie. Clearly years of being around profilers was rubbing off on you. “It was just something this reporter said.”

You pulled him down to sit on the couch. “About the case?”

“No, about… about me. About how I have a dad bod.” He hated how silly it sounded to say out loud.

A soft laugh escaped your lips before you caught yourself, trying to fight a smile. “And here I thought you didn’t know pop culture.”

Embarrassed, he busied himself with taking off his tie. “I don’t. I mean, I didn’t know that. But JJ explained it to me. It just made me feel weird, being described that way. I know I’m not exactly in shape, but I guess I didn’t expect other people to notice.” Spencer hadn’t counted on anyone else paying attention to the fit of his trousers or the way his sweaters clung to his body now that he’d filled out. Or at least he’d hoped his self-consciousness was unfounded, that his awareness of the ways his body had changed since Millburn didn’t extend to those around him. But if that wasn’t the case, maybe he needed to cut back on morning donut runs, or eliminate the sugar from his coffee. Anything to avoid being labeled the way he had been.

You set a hand on his thigh, unfazed by his self-deprication. “Well, from what I hear, a dad bod is pretty hot,” you purred.

Spencer pulled away from your touch, crossing his arms over his middle. “Is it?” he asked, not intending the edge that crept into his voice. “Because to me, it just sounds like a nicer way to say I’ve let myself go! I mean, what does that say about me when I don’t even have the excuse of being busy taking care of a kid or being a dad?”

He expected you to have some carefully crafted response at the ready, or at least some sweet nothings of validation, but you just shook your head, smiling. “Oh, babe. You’re that upset about this?”

Clearly he was. How had you gone from reading his expression so easily to acting surprised by what he told you? Annoyed by your lack of understanding, he just huffed a sigh. To his surprise, you stood up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. “Wait, where are you going?” he asked.

“To try and turn that frown upside down.” You returned with a brown paper bag in hand, setting it on the coffee table before sitting down next to him. “I know you’re not feeling great about it right now, but that dad bod of yours is going to be pretty useful.”

This vague hedging wasn’t your usual reaction to his discomfort, and he didn’t understand why you were so upbeat about this. “How, exactly?”

Your eyes softened, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards as you fought back a grin. “Spence,” you said, as though it was so obvious. “How do you think? When you’re a dad.” He bit his lip, puzzling over your words. They just didn’t make sense - he wasn’t a dad, that was the point. But you just raised your eyebrows, nodding slowly, waiting for it to sink in. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

What you were trying to… wait. Spencer froze, not even daring to blink. “You don’t mean–?”

“Yeah,” you said, the grin shining through in full. “Yeah, I do. Look in the bag.”

His gaze fell on the paper bag beside you, and he couldn’t even breathe for a moment, hands shaking as he grabbed it. It was like the whole world went quiet as he reached inside and withdrew a copy of Goodnight Moon. The book opened easily, and there tucked amidst the pages was a pregnancy test. With two lines. Pregnant.

When he looked back at you, he couldn’t even manage to form words. “I was going to surprise you with it tomorrow,” you told him. “But I felt like you needed something good right about now. So, see? You were just shaping up for your new role. You’ve always been ahead of the curve,” you laughed.

When he tried to laugh with you, it came out as a half-sob, tears springing to his eyes. “I’m going to be a dad?” he asked.

“You are.” Now you were starting to cry, too. “You’re gonna be the best dad.”

“Oh my god,” he said, pulling you into his arms in the tightest of hugs as the happiness overtook him completely. “We’re going to have a baby! Thank you. Thank you.” Becoming a father had long been a dream of his, one he so badly wanted to realize with you. And now that dream was finally coming true, the love of his life carrying his child, turning the Reid household into a family of three.

“Do you feel better now?” you asked him, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

He just nodded, answering in the form of a kiss. “Much, much better,” he said, when he finally pulled away. “Nothing else matters. I’m so happy, Y/N. This is the best news ever. I love you, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you giggled. “You’re gonna be putting that body to good use, you know. I’ll want to cuddle with you all the time. And they say skin-to-skin contact is important for newborns.”

“It is. Kangaroo care, as some specialists call it, is shown to help infants regulate their heartbeat, breathing and body temperature, as well as facilitating parent-child bonding and reducing crying.”

“See? You’re already an expert.” You inched closer to him on the couch, resting one hand on his waist, your thumb stroking over his tummy. “And I meant it when I said dad bods are hot. I mean, right now, Spence? I look at you and all I see is a DILF. You know what that one means, right?”

Spencer’s breath caught. “Yes,” he said carefully. “Yes, I do.”

“And?”

“And,” he said, caressing your cheek, his eyes roaming over your body. “I could never say no to that.”

+++

tell me what you think here!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dad bod spence #we were really robbed of dad!spencer

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mother-above · 2 months

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The Golden Warrior | Chapter 9

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 9/?

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: violence, death, swearing, trauma

*masterlist*

Chaos was the perfect word to describe what had just happened. There was metal, blood, death, and screaming in every direction. The only reason Prythian was still standing was because Amren unbound herself from her fae body and bombarded fire and brimstone onto the Hybern soldiers. It took the Prythians several seconds to realize that the battle was finally over.

Azriel breathed heavily as he looked around, seeing Illyrians and allies from the other Courts. He was waiting for relief to wash over him, but it never came, his gut knew something was profoundly wrong. He looked around and tried to locate his family, his shadows tasked to find you as well.

Hearing a female scream, he immediately slipped into a shadow and arrived at the horrifying scene of Rhysand lying lifeless and Feyre sobbing over his body. He was on his knees barely functioning as Feyre begged the High Lords to revive his brother and when they did, that feeling in his chest never went away. Amren was pulled out from the Cauldron and yet, the foreboding sense was still there. At that moment, a shadowy wisp hurtled toward him and screamed your name over and over again.

Azriel shot up, everyone looking at him as his shadows scattered to find you. “Y/n- “choked out the shadowsinger.

Then in the distance, they heard a deep voice bellowing, begging to be heard. “THESAN! THESAN! HELP!”

Thesan’s eyes widened as his eyes focused on the limp body next to Callon. A split second later, Thesan, Azriel, the Inner Court, and some of the High Lords followed. Once they arrived, everyone gasped as they saw you sprawled on your stomach, eyes closed. Your left wing was completely drenched in blood, the muscle, tendons, and cartilage connected to your back were shredded, the wing half attached. The bones on your right leg were shattered, your tibia sticking out from under your skin.

“She’s still alive,” said Callon. Your pulse was so weak he needed to press his fingers on your neck.

Azriel couldn’t breathe. He was on autopilot and only realized he had made his way to you when his hand wrapped around your wrist as if he needed to feel your pulse too. He breathed out in relief as he felt life under your skin.

Injured Peregryns and Illyrians watched warily, their heads bowed at the sight of your bloodied wings. The Illyrians who gained respect for you saw how you fought and prayed to the Mother and Cauldron that you would make it out alive.

Thesan’s mind whirred, the sight of your body on the ground sending him into overdrive. His hands glowed as they hovered over your body, “Broken bones, wing damage, and a stab wound,” said Thesan. “There’s faebane in her system, I can feel it.”

The other fae looked at your mangled body in horror, if you weren’t part of Thesan’s bloodline, you’d have died the moment you hit the ground. Thesan needed you to sit up so he could have access to both your abdomen and back. With help from Callon, Azriel gently propped you up against him and awaited instructions.

Nicking his finger with a blade, Thesan placed droplets of his blood in your mouth. “This should help the faebane get out of her system faster. I’m going to need some clean water to flush as much as I can.”

Tarquin immediately went to your side and drew water from the clouds, as Thesan magically pulled back your damaged armor. As the cool water cleansed your wounds, it stirred you into consciousness. Azriel felt your body tense up in his arms as you groaned in pain. Your stab wound needed immediate attention, so Thesan worked on your stomach. The pain became unbearable as you slowly gained consciousness. You could feel every broken bone and your back felt like it was on fire.

Your eyes opened and everything seemed blurry, your non-broken hand gripping someone’s bicep as the searing burn on your back grew stronger. You didn’t know what was happening, the only thing you knew was you were in the worst pain in your life, but someone was there to help you.

Your eyes squeezed shut. “Stop,” you said through clenched teeth. “Make it stop.”

Azriel wanted to cry, his arms clutching you tightly. Why wasn’t Thesan moving fast enough? “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “Thesan is healing you, you’re okay.”

The sound of his voice did little to calm or reassure you, you were in too much agony. You were already crying, your face buried in Azriel's chest trying not to squirm away from the magical tugs of Thesan’s healing. Thesan spoke in a low calming voice as he explained every step to you, and when he was done with your stab wound, he warned you that he would set all your broken bones at the same time. You clutched Azriel’s arm tighter and braced yourself, a golden pulse came out from Thesan’s palms as a scream escaped your lips as every broken bone in your body snapped back into place.

Azriel felt your body seize in agony and he didn’t think he could take seeing you in so much pain. He looked down at the grotesque injury on your back and left wing, now that Tarquin had washed away dirt and old blood, he could clearly see the shredded muscles and tendons made by claws. He and Thesan made eye contact, their faces paling at the sight. Wasting no more time, Thesan began reattaching the strands of muscle as your body spasmed, your screams turning hoarse.

“Stop!” begged Azriel. “She can’t take it, it’s too much.”

“If I stop, she’s going to die. Her body isn’t healing fast enough because she still has some faebane in her system,” said Thesan gravely.

Thesan was right but Azriel couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering any longer. He looked at Rhysand, his hazel gaze piercing into violet eyes.

Please.

Wordlessly, Rhysand dipped his head and mentally reached out, his talons feeling no resistance from your usually heavily guarded mind. The High Lord of Night shuddered as he heard your internal screams of anguish, as swiftly as he could, he took control and brought you peace. Azriel thanked Rhysand as he felt your body slump, your breaths heavy as your body recovered. Thesan continued his healing and did all he could, but he needed to get you off this battlefield.

Careful not to touch your wounds, Azriel cautiously brought you to your unstable feet and let you lean most of your weight on him. He wished he could carry you but there was no way he could without hurting your wings. Thesan placed his hands on you and Azriel’s arms and with a crack, Thesan winnowed to Dawn’s healing tent.

The sight of your bloodied body made the healers gasp and rush as they prepared a private cot for you. With Thesan’s help, Azriel gingerly moved your body to lie on your stomach. A healer slipped a strong painkilling tablet under your tongue, something new that Dawn Court had been developing. Azriel stood in the corner as he watched Thesan and other healers start working on your wings. He wanted to vomit, the left side was half-detached and the flesh connecting your wing was mutilated. He wished the Attor that did this to you was still alive so he could kill it slowly and as painfully as possible.

The shadowsinger wanted to hold your hand but he would just get in the way. He should have been there to defend you, but he knew that would’ve done more harm than good, he would’ve been distracted. That’s why he let a shadow latch onto you, it would only report back if anything had happened. Azriel rigidly stood in the corner observing every single step, it wasn’t until an elderly healer tugged on his arm and urged him to sit on a nearby cot did he realized that he too was in pain. His wings felt like they were on fire and the healer knew it too because the first thing she did was bandage his wings so he wouldn’t be able to fly.

By the time Azriel was covered in poultices and patched up, the other healers left to attend to the other Peregryns and foot soldiers, leaving Thesan to do the final touches. Thesan was the most powerful healer in the universe but even injuries like this were going to take time to heal. The attention to detail was painstaking, every muscle, tendon, vein, and nerve had to be healed properly, or else you may never fly again.

Thesan had to be perfect, you didn’t deserve to lose your ability to fly, you had done so much for him to protect his court and he would never forget that. Thankfully, you were still asleep, the pain medication doing its job. Wisps floated around you, watching Thesan curiously, some of them boldly intertwining with your fingers as if they were comforting you.

The High Lord looked at Azriel and the shadows. “I suppose you’re the person to thank for saving my cousin from Hybern’s first blast. I don’t know how you knew, but if you didn’t call her, she’d be dead.”

Azriel watched the rise and fall of your back, the moment he heard Nesta screaming for Cassian, he knew something was wrong and called for you too. His throat constricted as he remembered how loud and desperate, he sounded.

“You’re her mate,” stated Thesan. Azriel blinked at the High Lord and then nodded. “Does she know it’s you?”

He shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. She uh-- thinks it’s someone else…. I think she thinks it’s Tarquin,” said Azriel as he propped his elbows on his knees. “She didn’t want to tell me but now that I think about it, they seem close.” Azriel thought back to how Tarquin acted on the battlefield, his extra care as he washed all the blood and dirt away. The way the flow of the water knew your body. Azriel scrubbed his face and sighed heavily as he returned his gaze to your prone form.

Thesan slowly nodded as his thoughts flashed to the turquoise-eyed High Lord. Judging by the sight of the distressed spymaster, he wasn’t going to confirm Azriel’s assumptions.

“Did you know she doesn’t want a mate?” continued Azriel.

Thesan’s hands froze over your back, his head whipping to Azriel. “What?”

“She told me she never wanted a mate; she claimed it would make her weak,” said Azriel with a defeated laugh. He thought about the kiss and how you used him to distract yourself. “She really doesn’t want the bond to snap.”

Thesan pressed his palms against his eyes, his mind whirring at the thought of his stubborn cousin. He should’ve guessed you thought this way. “She’s going to need her family and friends more than ever. I am doing everything possible to heal her, but I don’t know how this will affect her flying. With her powers evolving and now her wings, she’s going to need us. If you can find it within you, please be patient with her.”

A corner of Azriel’s lips lifted, “I’ve hoped all my life for a mate, I could never let her go.”

Thesan hummed his approval. “You saw what she did today, she’s more powerful than I thought. The other courts will be wary of her, the humans, and faeries from Cretea and the Continent will see her as a threat. Word will spread about what she can do, and she’ll be in danger,” once again, Thesan paused his work to look at the shadowsinger. “Can I count on you to protect her?”

Without missing a beat, Azriel responded, “With my life.”

Of the times he had met Azriel in the past few centuries, this was the most Thesan had heard him talk. His voice was so soft and sincere, something he didn’t think he’d ever hear from Prythian’s best spymaster. Looking back down at you, Thesan sighed, he hoped you would be ready for the world when you woke up.

***

Rhysand called for Azriel, but he couldn’t stand to be away from you, so he left half his shadows and instructed them to stay with you no matter what. Once you were stable, Thesan winnowed you to your tent, your bed would be much more comfortable than a cot. After that, Thesan had to leave and deal with the aftermath of the war, to mourn and collect the dead so they could be properly buried. You also missed the meeting at the debilitated Archeron estate. Out of habit, Azriel kept looking over at Thesan thinking you were going to be standing next to him. The meeting had just ended and when his shadows informed him you were stirring awake, he winnowed in a heartbeat.

You groaned as you tried to push yourself up, but scarred hands placed themselves on your shoulders.

“Don’t sit up until Thesan says you can,” said Azriel as he gently pushed you back onto the mattress. Azriel crouched and placed himself in your field of vision.

With your eyebrows slightly furrowed, you scanned Azriel’s bandaged wings and your tent around you.

“The battle—we won?” you said trying to recollect your memories. “Something hot and fiery flew above me…. I remember falling. Why was I falling?”

It took you a moment and then you gasped, your neck careening to look at your back. Your muscles screamed as pain shot down your spine forcing your head to slam onto the cot. Azriel winced as a strangled cry came out of your lips.

You remembered the pain of the claws digging into your back. “How bad is it?” Your eyes were big and frantic, your mouth still open, unable to ask the most important question. Are my wings, okay?

Azriel’s gaze swept down to your exposed back, the skin raw and angry, the feathers still stained red. “Thesan worked on you for hours… he said we won’t know until you’re completely healed.”

Your lip trembled as your own healing powers surged within you, trying to understand the damage your body had taken. You sensed the extensive work that was done on your left wing, and tears cascaded down your cheeks.

Azriel explained how the battle ended, how Rhysand died to fix the Cauldron, and how the High Lords used their powers to resurrect him. He explained that Amren had sacrificed herself to save Prythian and how she was also revived by the Cauldron. You were stunned as Azriel updated you, forgetting about your own injuries until Azriel talked about how your body was discovered.

“When Callon found you, we thought you were dead, there was so much blood …” Azriel paused, reigning in his shadows that hovered over you. “You would’ve bled out if… you weren’t you.”

It hurt to nod. You lifted a golden glowing hand to check on your wings, to see if you could do anything to heal it. “I don’t know--I can’t tell if I’ll ever be able to fly again,” you choked out. “I’d rather die.”

Azriel cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping the tears away. “We can worry about your flying later, just rest and heal for now.”

His hands were warm and heavy, you relished it as his thumb stroked your cheekbone. His contact was strangely reassuring, something you instantly missed when he pulled his hand back when Thesan and Callon entered the tent.

Your reunion with your family was only tearful for a brief time because you began to bicker with Thesan about your healing. You finally convinced Thesan you were okay to sit up and with significant effort and clenched teeth, you were able to sit up, the muscles aching. With your armor gone, you were only wearing leggings and a special brassier for females with wings. Azriel averted his gaze, but you didn’t care, you’ve worn more revealing dresses.

Thesan and Callon left to do court duties, you didn’t even bother trying to help them, you were in no shape to walk, let alone bark orders. An attendant stopped by to drop off a tray of food, enough for two people by the looks of it. Azriel took the tray from the attendant and as he set up an impromptu table, you peered through the tent drapes. It was already dawn, it had been a day since you had eaten anything, your growling stomach making Azriel smile.

Reaching out to pick up a cup of water, your muscles spasmed, making your arm feel heavy and numb. You tried reaching for a spoon, but the same thing happened, your still healing back muscles making you incapable of doing simple tasks.

“Here,” said Azriel. “Let me help you.”

He picked up a cup and let you drink, the cool water quelling your thirst. He took the fork and speared some fruit and pancake before holding it up to your lips. You chewed and stared at the shadowsinger who was diligently cutting your breakfast into small pieces. This entire scene felt strange and weirdly domestic, apart from your parents, no one had ever fed you anything and that was over a hundred years ago. This felt intimate and your chest burned at the sight of the handsome Illyrian warrior sitting in front of you. You almost swore something was tugging in your chest but after a deep breath, the feeling was gone.

“Azriel?”

He looked at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Why are you here with me and not your family? Not that I’m not grateful—but you don’t have to help me.”

Azriel paused, thinking of all the things he wanted to say to you.

Because I’m your mate! Because I care! Because I want you to know me and choose me!

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “You’re my friend, you’re hurting, and I want to help you.”

He said it so simply, so nonchalantly and it stunned you that someone could be this kind.

He watched you stare at him in awe, he thought you looked beautiful like this, your subtle glow illuminating the dim tent. He basked in your presence and attention, he hadn’t slept yet, but this restored him. Azriel was ready for anything life would throw at him.

***

You had trained with weapons and magic for decades. You had spent hundreds of hours reading about politics and observing the art of diplomacy for years. All of this was done to prepare you for your role in Dawn Court, but nothing could have prepared you for the aftermath of war. Thesan and Callon watched you like a hawk, your strange behavior wasn’t lost on either of them. Even the Palace staff were keeping an eye on you.

A month had passed, and everything felt different and dull. You had watched your soldiers and friends die.

2,398.

That’s how many Peregryns died, the dead foot soldiers were a number you didn’t want to think about. You made sure each family had sizable monetary compensation, but no amount of money could ever bring their loved one back. There was nothing you could do but at least make it financially easier for them.

You went to visit Wyla’s family to deliver the money yourself and to talk to them about Wyla. Callon begged you not to go since it was his job, but you felt like you owed it to her, she was your friend and one of the best warriors. He was afraid they’d hate you, but in reality, it was the exact opposite. Her family practically worshipped you; they told you how honored Wyla was to be able to work alongside Dawn Court’s royalty. While devastated their daughter died, they were proud of her contribution to the safety of Prythian. Their loyalty to you and Thesan was unwavering.

The moment you stepped out of their house, you winnowed to your secret spot in the mountains where no one would find you. You wished you listened to Callon, you sobbed until you couldn't breathe, and tears ran out. It would have been easier if her family hated and blamed you for their daughter's death because that’s how you felt. If you had been faster, stronger, and more powerful, Wyla and so many others would be alive.

You didn’t even realize, but you had emitted that poison bronze fog again, it hung over you in the air slowly dissipating in the wind. Tentatively, you waved your hand through the fog, there was a chance it would’ve poisoned you, but you shrugged it off. The poison was your essence, you were its master.

While sitting at your desk doing paperwork, you would swear you heard the clang of a sword hitting a shield. Sometimes you could still smell the sharp coppery scent of blood, but it was never there, only in your head. Thesan and Callon seemed to have moved on faster than you did, they weren’t moping around like you were. You couldn’t understand how they acted like nothing had changed.

Your bones were back to their original strength, you were now able to run and train just like you used to. The fear of being ambushed or being thrown into a war was always with you. You slept with a dagger under your pillow and hid weapons in various spots in your room and office. It was a shock to find out that the Palace had no hidden weapons so you installed them and insisted that you, the trusted guards, and Thesan should know where they were located.

Your wings and back had finally healed but the damage was done, neither you nor Thesan could get rid of the scars. Some feathers on the left wing grew back sparse and jagged but that wasn’t too big of a deal, you’d have to adjust how you flew. The thing is… you have yet to fly. In secret, you had tried to launch off your balcony, you were able to take off ten feet into the air until shooting pain shot out from the middle of your back and you crashed and landed on your hands. You fractured your right wrist which you hastily healed before anyone could walk in to ask what the noise was about.

After that incident, you magically hid your wings and refused to let them unfurl. You couldn’t fathom the idea of never being able to fly so you chose to avoid the subject. Callon asked you why your wings were hidden the next day, and you got irritable and snapped at him. You left the poor male trembling and at a loss for words.

If you weren’t doing your duties, you were in your room, you didn’t even venture out to the courtyards. The owner of your favorite tavern even visited the Palace to come and check on you. Things that used to bring you joy no longer did anything to your mood. You didn’t have much of an appetite, you only ate what was enough to maintain your muscle mass, and things like cookies and pastries didn’t appeal to you anymore. Which meant your body had become sinewy and haggard, with dark circles under your eyes because you couldn’t sleep. Everything tasted bland and fae wine did nothing for you.

Thesan didn’t think he’d seen you genuinely smile since before the last battle, you were always staring off into the distance thinking about something. Thesan asked you but you always changed the subject, or you simply refused to answer him. You were secretive about your thoughts because you were angry.

The only reason the Attor had gotten to you was because you were distracted by Azriel. You and his High Lord gave him strict orders not to fly and fight and what was he doing? Doing both fucking things you had asked him not to do. The past few weeks, you’ve had a lot of time to think about your relationship with Azriel. Why did you care so much? How could he be so foolish? His injured wings were what slowed him down, allowing him to get surrounded by Hybern soldiers.

Viviane, Feyre, Azriel, and to your dismay, Tarquin had been sending you letters asking how you were doing. Your responses were always short and cordial, and after two months had passed, they asked if they could visit you, but you always declined. Thesan assigned you more tasks hoping it would get you out of your funk, but it only ended in you making multiple mistakes. Your cousin had enough, he was watching you turn into a shell of a fae, and he couldn’t let you slip further away.

One morning, he entered your room and found you on your balcony wistfully looking up at the clouds.

“Why don’t you go flying anymore?”

Your head slightly turned to him, the scarred side making an appearance before disappearing.

Thesan sighed heavily as leaned against the marble balcony rail. “I want you to get away from Dawn Court and have a break.”

Your head snapped at him. “What? I can’t leave, you need me! There’s so much work to do!”

He shook his head. “You walk around the Palace like a ghost. You barely eat or talk to us, and honestly, you’ve been a shit second. I have to fix every mistake you make. I think you need to get away for a little bit, I shouldn’t have put you to work right away.”

You glared at Thesan as silver tears shimmered in your eyes, his words felt like a slap to the face. Despite the nightmares, and your inability to fly, you were doing your duty and now he tells you you’ve been doing a horrible job? You knew something wasn’t right with you, but you didn’t think it was that big of a problem.

Before you could protest, Thesan spoke with such authority there was no way you could disobey him. “I’ve written to Rhysand, and he’d be happy to have you visit Velaris for a while. Rhysand and Feyre are coming after lunch to pick you up.”

Panic ran through you as you thought of the hazel-eyed Illyrian. “You could’ve written to Kallias and Viviane!”

“They’re too busy to deal with your dramatics. You’re going to Night Court today to rest and heal properly. That’s an order,” said Thesan with finality.

“What the fuck, Thesan. You could’ve talked to me about my work.”

Thesan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks, Y/n.”

Your brows furrowed, the last several weeks have been a monotonous blur. You didn’t have the energy to fight with Thesan, so you simply nodded before heading to your closet to pack. Thesan looked at your retreating figure and thanked the Mother you complied with his request.

Yes, he wrote to Rhysand, but you didn’t know he and Rhysand had a confidential meeting late at night when you were sleeping. Rhysand didn’t need to see you to know something was wrong, your aura was the first thing he felt, your magic radiating from across the Palace. It was stronger than ever, and it was sharp and bitter which made Rhysand give Thesan a concerned look.

***

The small duffel bag by your feet was filled with a variety of clothes, you had no idea how long you were going to stay in Velaris, so you packed the essentials and some extras. There were a couple of daggers hidden in there as well and if they took those from you, you always had a stash in a pocket realm, that’s where you kept Deception most days.

You were standing with your arms crossed in the foyer with Thesan and Callon, you were still outraged at Thesan for kicking you out, but you think you understood why. The clock in the other room struck 3 o’clock and then Feyre and Rhysand appeared out of thin air. You straighten up and give the High Lord and Lady a quick smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

Feyre floated to you and wrapped her arms around your figure, her eyes wide as she looked at Thesan and Callon in alarm.

It’s only been two months since we last saw her, she looks so different! Said Feyre as she telepathically spoke to the three males in the room.

Thesan nodded grimly as Callon looked down at his shoes, he wished he could’ve helped more.

Putting her hands on your shoulders, Feyre smiled at you. “It’s nice to see you again my friend, I’m excited to show you around Velaris.”

Rhysand stepped forward to kiss your hand before picking up your duffel bag. “You’ll love it there; everyone is excited to see you.”

You forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you,” you murmured. You could see the couple not so discreetly looking at the empty space where your wings should be.

Saying his goodbyes, Thesan pulled you into a hug and whispered. “You can come home anytime but I want you to come back when you’re truly happy.”

Your forehead creased. What the hell does that mean?

Preparing to winnow, Feyre took your hand as the High Lord and High Lady nodded to your cousin and Callon.

With a crack, you were suddenly greeted with a cold burst of air. They had winnowed you to the base of a mountain and if you craned your head, you could see a manor that was built into the mountain rock. Looking around, your gaze landed on the glowing nearby city, it was beautiful and for the first time in a long time, something took your breath away.

Rhysand was holding out a coat for you and you gladly took it, it was much colder here in winter than it was in Dawn. By its scent, the jacket belonged to Feyre so you thanked both of them.

Your eyes fleet around, for some reason you were expecting Azriel to be here to greet you. Rhys and Feyre bit back a smile when they saw you looking.

Clearing his throat, Rhysand extended his arms. “Welcome to Velaris, my friend. The house up there is called the House of Wind and that is where you’ll be staying. Normally, we would’ve set you up at the Town House since it’s in the city center but part of it is getting renovated. This house is guarded against winnowing, so you’ll have to fly up there.” Rhysand grimaced as soon as he said it. He glanced at you to see if you were upset but you just nodded blankly.

“If you ever want to head down and visit the city or go wherever, lower your mental shield, and call for me or Feyre at any time of the day. We’ll send someone to come and pick you up,” said Rhysand. “There is a way to go down but it’s 10,000 steps, I would recommend you fetch one of us.”

Feyre was mortified. It was such bad timing for the townhouse to be renovated. “You really can call on us any time,” she insisted. “We’re your friends and we want you to feel at home.”

With you secure in Rhysand’s arms, he shot up to the sky and you closed your eyes, relishing the wind blowing through your hair. He landed on a balcony with a thud and told you to have a look around as he went back down to pick up Feyre and your duffel bag. Feyre could’ve flown up herself, but she wasn’t going to rub her wings and flying in your face.

Rhysand and Feyre took you on a grand tour of the house, the only people here were the handmaidens Nuala and Cerridwen who greeted you kindly and with curiosity. They’ve heard about your unique ability to detect shadows.

The High Lord and Lady showed you the dining room, kitchen, library, outdoor throne room, and the fully equipped training ring atop the house. Lastly, they bring you to the door of your room at the end of the corridor. They don’t tell you that the room opposite yours was Azriel’s, Rhysand was trying not to snicker which made Feyre whack the back of his head when you weren’t looking.

They left you to settle down and unpack and, in a few hours, Nuala would come and fetch you for dinner. Now that you were alone, you slumped into a cushioned chair and stared at the city lights through the window. There was so much to think about, you couldn’t believe Thesan sent you here. Were you that useless that Thesan sent his powerful second-in-command away?

You were admiring the view when a clink made you snap your head toward the table next to you. There sat a steaming cup of tea, the china made of fine porcelain, and the flowers printed on it were reminiscent of the flowers that grew around Dawn’s Palace. Waving a hand over it, you deemed it a normal cup of tea with no trace of poison. Taking the mysterious cup in your hands, you settled back into your chair and sipped on the delicious spices that filled you with warmth.

Nuala knocked on your door and informed you that dinner would be served in 15 minutes. Startled, you looked out the window and saw that time had passed with you barely registering it. You were too engrossed with a book about the Night Court that had materialized on your lap. You quickly changed into simple silk trousers and a thin form-fitting long-sleeve shirt. Unsure of what to do with your hair, you hastily twisted it into an updo.

You used the scent of cooking food to help you navigate the halls and when you arrived, you see Rhysand standing by the Fireplace with a glass of wine in his hand.

“Rhysand- “

“Call me Rhys,” he said with a friendly smile. You were going to be his sister one day, and he wanted you to be comfortable.

“Rhys… I wanted to thank you for allowing me into your home. I- uh, don’t really know what’s going on with me,” you looked up at Rhysand embarrassed at your admission. “I just don’t want to impose, I’m sure you’re all very busy and I’d be happy to help if you ever need anything.”

Amusement glowed in Rhysand’s eyes, he never thought he’d see the day the terrifying Golden Warrior would stumble on her words. “You are here to take some time off from work. I should be the one thanking you, you saved Cassian’s life and saved Azriel’s wings and without your magic, Prythian would have fallen.”

“He’s right, I don’t think any of us would be here without you.” said a feminine voice. Mor was standing by the doorway and made her way to embrace you. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

Mor’s arrival opened the floodgates because everyone walked in at the same time. They were shocked at how different you looked. You used to be ethereal, a soft golden glow always emitting from under your skin. The beautiful large white and gold-tipped wings were something they were used to seeing, and now it was gone.

Cassian came barreling toward you and picked you up and spun you around. Nesta, who fondly rolled her eyes at Cassian came to say hello, her general attitude and happiness were much better now than when you last saw her. She waved Elain over and properly introduced the middle Archeron sister to you. Elain gave you a small curtsy and timid smile. She saw what you did at the battle with Hybern and was both terrified and in awe.

Amren greets you and you are surprised to see Varian in tow. You should have expected to see him here since the last time you saw him, his tongue was shoved down Amren’s throat in the war tent. He hugged you, trying not to act so concerned and shocked at your appearance. Varian had liked you since the day you winnowed into Summer Court, you were a breath of fresh air, something he, Tarquin, and Cressida needed.

Dinner was still being prepared so everyone was milling around between the dining room, sitting room, and balcony. Feyre had hooked her arm around yours and was chatting about anything and everything as you walked from person to person. A familiar handsome red-headed male entered the room.

“This is Lucien Vanserra,” said Feyre. “He helped us get help from the Continent; he was also Nuan’s informant for the faebane compound.”

Lucien bows, takes your hand, and kisses the top. “Nice to meet you, my lady.”

You gave him a pleasant smile as you dipped your head, if Nuan liked him, you knew you would too. He tells you how Nuan helped him tinker something for his eye and you find yourself feeling immensely proud of your mutual friend. Lucien gets called over by Mor and when he leaves, you feel Feyre throw up a sound glamour.

“Lucien and Elain are mates, but Elain wants nothing to do with him. I felt like you needed to know because it will get awkward and uncomfortable. It’s best I warned you because you’ll be staying here,” said Feyre in one breath.

You quickly try to get rid of the shocked look on your face. “Understood.”

The glamour goes down and you discreetly peered at Elain, you guessed you weren’t the only one who didn’t want a mate. You remembered Elain staring up at Azriel with her doe-eyes. Did she want Azriel instead of Lucien? The very thought made you frown. Looking around, you realize that the shadowsinger was nowhere to be found. Your eyes darted around the room for any sign of his shadows but there was nothing.

A faint boom in the atmosphere made your eyes snap into the night sky.

What the hell was that?

Cassian and Rhysand looked at each other and grinned, that was the sound of an Illyrian flying fast. A shadowy form shoots down onto the balcony, its impact shaking the mountain, the floor beneath your feet vibrating. The shadows dispersed and there stood Azriel’s tall menacing figure, his intimidating gaze searching the crowd, and only softening when they landed on you.

a/n: this was so fun to write! What do you like and not like about the characters? I wanna hear your frustrations lmaoo.

taglist ❤️: @inloveallthetime

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

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pleasantlycrazyworld · 1 year

Text

Keeping warm

Eddie Munson x female reader.

Summary: Eddie and you have to cuddle to stay warm during a snowstorm due to the heater breaking.

Italic is inner thoughts

Author notes: I live in Ohio and it’s been snowing so much lately, while watching the snow fall this idea popped into my head. I hope you enjoy :) Also if you ever wanted to play with Eddie’s hair this is for you ;)

You and Eddie have just started dating. Well, it’s been two months and those two months have been magical. Eddie loved you, and you loved him. Neither have said those specific words just yet but you both knew. Eddie was over the moon that you two got together, it still feels like a dream to him honestly he never thought you would agree to a date let alone a relationship but here you two are. And he was over the moon that Wayne loved you too. You were so persistent on meeting his uncle and he was nervous to introduce the two of you but he had no reason to be worried. That night might forever be one of his favorite memories. You wanted to make dinner for everyone and Wayne was able to convenience his boss to let him have the night off. You made an amazing dinner and that was the first gold star that you earned from Wayne. The second was when you took care of Eddie and him that night, you made the food, made the plates, and refused any help from Wayne. Usually, he would hate to have someone do all the work but you were so sweet but determined to have the two men relax and that was what he likes about you. You know what you want but you go about it in a sweet way, which usually helps you get what you want.

Tonight was supposed to be date night but Eddie tried to cancel due to his van breaking down. “Babe I can’t pick you up for tonight, I’m so sorry I know we’ve been planning this forever but my van broke down and I can’t fix it until tomorrow afternoon. But I swear I’ll make it up to you.” Now you know he didn’t do this on purpose but you were still very disappointed. So you made a plan. You got your best friend to drive you to the trailer park and you showed up with pizza and Eddie’s favorite snacks. You could tell on the phone that he was having a hard day and there was no way you were going to leave him by himself when he wasn’t having a good day.

You slipped through the door to the trailer, surprising Eddie. There he was on the couch, shocked to see you with your arms full of food and goodies. “Baby? What are you doing here? Shit, let me help you” Eddie takes the food from your arms and sits it all on the counter. “I know I should’ve called but you seemed so upset on the phone and I really wanted to see you so I got a ride and picked some stuff up for a date night in.” Hearing this makes Eddie realize how much he really does love you. “I am sorry that my van decided to ditch us on date night but I’m so happy to see you” Eddie leans in and kisses you softly. Nothing but love is felt through the soft touch of their lips.

Pulling away the two of them just look each other in the eyes for a moment. Contemplating about how amazing the other person is. Eddie softly grips your hand and pulls you to the couch. There was a movie already on the small television but neither could bring themselves to care about it. Eddie starts to tell you about his day and you just listen to everything he has to say while playing with his hair. Eddie feels himself relax even more within your touch.

All of the sudden a weird and awfully loud noise breaks through the trailer. Scaring the both of you, Eddie leaps off the couch and is already in a fighting stance. “What the hell was that?” Then you feel a coolness hit her. When did it get so cold in here?

Feeling the cold himself Eddie groans. “Of course, the heater decides to break on the day it starts to snow.” Just from the look on Eddie’s face, you can see that all the tension that just left his body came right back in. “Aw honey, it’s okay! I’m sure it’s an easy fix.” you go over to the heater and it is not an easy fix. But you are determined to make the end of the day good for Eddie. “So the heater is definitely broken but it’s okay.” Y/N’s voice echoes through the trailer but she is no longer by the heater. Eddie doesn’t know how he lost her but he has. Where the hell did she go?

You come back to the living room with her arms full of blankets, sweatshirts, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks. “Here you change into some of the clothes while I go put the blankets into the dryer.” Eddie feels his heart melt all over again. This girl is going to be the death of me.

When you come back into the living room and see Eddie dressed in a black hoodie, a pair of warmer black sweats, and bright pink fuzzy socks with hearts all over them. You can’t help but giggle at the sight in front of her and she quickly snaps a picture of him with their polaroid camera. Eddie gives her a funny look “What? You told me to change into warmer clothes” All you can do is shake your head and go to plop all the blankets onto the couch. “I’m going to change and heat the pizza back up, you get comfy and find us something to watch baby” kissing his cheek you disappear into his bedroom to change into some of his clothes. Emerging from the back of the trailer you reappear in front of Eddie with the pizza and his heart stops. “ I think I just died. There’s an angel in front of me babe. What do I do?” Laughing at Eddie’s dramatics all you do is kiss him and fall into his lap. “What did you decide to watch?” “Well, I chose the classic (your favorite movie/show)” Humming softly and playing with one of his curls “that sounds great babe.”

Today wasn’t the best day for Eddie, but you made sure it was a good night, and damn did you succeed.

Bonus: After finishing almost the entire pizza between the two of you, Eddie ended up falling asleep laying on your chest with you playing with his hair and kissing his forehead you allow yourself to doze off as well and this is how Wayne found the two of you when he is let off work early due to the snow storm. Smiling softly at the sight in front of him, Wayne goes and grabs your polaroid and snaps a photo for you two to see when you get up.

If you enjoyed please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging it means the world! And Request are always open <3

#Eddie munson #eddie and wayne munson #uncle wayne #eddie imagines #eddie imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n

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tempting-andromeda · 1 year

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Could you write reader is sicking of Sebastian always saying they don't care about curing Anne so they slap him to shut up. Reader feels bad later and apologize to him please.

I have been picturing this for AGES in my mind so yes :)

Some angst

TW: argument and violence

The words that left Sebastian’s lips felt repetitive. “For Anne.” You didn’t even know who Anne was. If you were doing anything for anybody, it was for him.

Sebastian had dragged you to the undercroft four times that day. He was antsy about finding the cure.

“Please tell me you’ve found something?” He seemed frantic. Anne wasn’t getting worse, but she also wasn’t getting better, and to Sebastian, that meant she was getting worse. You didn’t know how to answer him after all you had given him the same answer the three other times he asked. You just simply shook your head no. That response didn’t sit right with Sebastian. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair; something that became a familiar action within your time with him. He was frustrated you couldn’t just fix Anne, even though you had no idea how to use ancient magic.

“Well? What have you been doing?” He asked accusingly. He was scared, and you both knew it, but he had been acting as if it was your fault recently. Something you and Ominis didn’t find ideal.

“Sebastian, please, I have other things to do.” You signed. You wanted to help Anne as much as you could. You thought you had grown a strong bond with him, but every moment Anne wasn’t recovering, he seemed to forget that. There was a fear in the back of your mind that he would trade your life for hers in an instant.

“Other things?!” Spat Sebastian. He threw his hands up and pointedly looked at you.

“Anne is ill and all you can think about is other things?!” His voice rose as he mocked your own. It didn’t hurt the way it was intended to, but you knew he would try harder. If he was hurt, you would hurt worst. It’s something you learned while being around him. Instead of an apology, he would just say he’s a Slytherin after all. As if it changed the meaning. This wasn’t your first moment like this with him. It had happened the day before.

“Sebastian-” he cut you off before you could even say anything.

“Sebastian,” he mocked, “no (y/n) you have this-this magic that can help and you’re just playing with it.” He got even louder as he spoke and now was shouting in your face. You wanted to panic. He hadn’t gotten this angry at you yet. Of course, he spat at you for not wanting to cure Anne, which wasn’t true. You were just as confused as he was, but just not as desperate. As you were about to speak, he lunged at you and grabbed your shoulders.

“Do you just not care about curing her? My sister?!” He violently shook your arms as he yelled. Panic finally set in and you realized he was scaring you. Spit landed on your face from his yelling and as he opened his mouth to yell once again, you slapped him. You didn’t realize what you had done until you looked at him. He was bent over, holding his cheek.

“You’re being mean and you’re scaring me.” You said in between gasps. Sebastian stared at you with a shocked expression and watched you slowly run away from him, occasionally looking over your shoulder at him.

As soon as you left the undercroft, you couldn’t stop gasping for air. You needed to find Ominis. He always knew what to do for some reason. He brought a sense of comfort in these moments and you didn’t know who needed it more, you or Sebastian? You took off in a sprint as you looked for him. Nearly running into a few students and an irritated Professor. Tears ran down your face as the guilt finally hit you.

Sebastian was just desperate. He was scared to lose his sister. You probably would’ve acted the same in his place. His sister was unwell, and you both placed too much trust in your magic. He didn’t deserve to be slapped, just as you didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

Once Ominis was in your line of sight, you felt overwhelmed with everything that had happened and just started to cry. He seemed to hear your cries and turned his in every which way in a panic. Once you finally reached him, everything seemed to burst.

“Ominis! IslappedSebastianbecausehewasscaringmebutnowIfeelhorrible!” You fell into his arms dramatically.

“Oh, dear… (y/n) I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” Ominis said as he let you collapse. He wasn’t the best at consoling, but he knew how to listen. Once you calmed down, you told him everything that happened, from Sebastian yelling at you to you slapping him. After he heard everything, he winced slightly.

“I’m jealous you’ve committed my dream, but circumstances don’t seem fair. I understand you were scared, but so is he. Apologize for slapping him and I’m sure he will apologize for how he’s been acting. We have to be patient with him. He’s been through a lot.” Ominis gave his “words of wisdom,” as he rubbed your back to calm you down. You knew you had to apologize for slapping him, so matter what. A part of you wanted Ominis to join you to find Sebastian again, but knew it was something you had to do alone. It wasn’t like Sebastian would hurt you.

The first place you looked for Sebastian was the undercroft which you succeeded in finding him. He stared at his hands with a frown in the middle of the room.

“I’m sorry.” You said softly. You didn’t want to scare him since he seemed so lost in his mind. He slowly looked up at you.

“Am I truly that horrible?” Sebastian asked, defeatedly. While you were away, he seemed to have torn himself apart. His eyes were puffy and dull, most likely from crying.

“No, Sebastian! I was scared. Everything is so new and I do care about Anne. I just can’t handle the way you treat me.”

“I’m just… I’m so scared.” His voice started to crack, and you hadn’t seen Sebastian cry before, but knew he was about to start. He slowly started to hug himself as tears rushed down his face. Without thinking, you rushed towards him and wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re okay. I got you.” You mumbled into his hair. Without any hesitation, he wrapped his arms around your stomach and started to cry harder. It’s hard to remember but you both are still 15.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow headcanon #hogwarts legacy sebastian #Hogwarts legacy sebastian sallow

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jimblejamblewritings · 21 days

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Flowers as Pure as Blood | part one.

Summary: The Riddles. An oddly charming family despite their husband/father being the most feared evil wizard in the world. But what happens when the youngest daughter is taken captive by Aurors to try and get information on Voldemort's plans.

Warnings for the Series: talks of torture, violence.

Pairing: some marauders x reader (pairing not decided yet)

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: yeah I know I've been gone for a year and that this is yet again another fic... I have no words, my bad. I do intend to finish every fic though so don't worry!

No one could say that the emergency Order meeting was exactly a surprise. Nowadays, it felt like most of their meetings were unscheduled. Their wands heated up more than ever in their hands or back pockets. Who knew what it was this time. When fighting a war where a good chunk of the population secretly felt the way their enemy did, it wasn’t exactly easy.

While they didn’t agree with Voldemort killing muggles and muggleborns, there was a reason he got so far. People turned their cheeks and ignored the bad side because overall they agreed with him. And changing the minds of the complacent wasn’t easy.

But the tables were about to turn. Or so they hoped. For a few years now, Voldemort has gotten bolder. It wasn’t just Britain worrying anymore. It was the entire wizarding world. Rumors spread that he was looking for something. Some people said that his wife went insane from a battle with Aurors and that’s why Tatienne Riddle stays in the house despite being a free woman having not yet committed a crime — although others think she was sent back to her home country of France in order to be safe.

Some people say that he has another child and after the death of his second daughter all the others were sent away and now he’s checking up on them constantly. Some think he’s searching for a way to break Grindelwald out of prison. Others have heard rumors of horcruxes, dark artifacts, the elder wand, a deal with dementors.

The Order didn’t really care what the reasons were. They just cared that they were being dragged into a larger mess. The ministries of magic in different countries were having meetings with each other, trying to coordinate. It was harder than they thought. Way before even the Salem Witch Trials, all of the wizarding community used to be together under a single government. But then they started retreating within muggle borders and lots of red tape and rules appeared. But soon, once they work together, the Order and aurors would be meeting a lot of new people. They’d still be in small units for stealth but they’d have more numbers overall.

Sirius smiled at the photo of the Order hanging in his foyer, right by the front door. He didn’t really need to greet anyone since he knew them all but he chose to anyway. He was greeted by almost everyone. Moody hung up his coat on the rack as he spoke.

“Dumbledore will be here in an hour or so.”

“Oh, good. Kreacher’s almost finished with cooking. Moony, did you stop by the store?”

“Yep.” Remus held up the bottles of wine.

Sirius moved back to Grimmauld at the start of seventh year when his parents died, not that he cared. But Regulus was still underage. Their relationship was rocky for the first few months but now they were fine. And it wasn’t just them. It was the Marauders and their friends. Potter Manor and flats around London just weren’t smart anymore.

They all sat down at the table in the dining room. It would’ve been nice if they didn’t have business to talk about. But at least they could do it over a nice and hearty lunch.

Upstairs you could hear the sudden thud of various footsteps landing on the floor upstairs, followed by an entire conversation that you didn’t care about. You weren’t sure why the Aurors had allowed you to hear what was happening wherever you were. Maybe it was another form of torture. You could hear them and they could pretend that you never existed. But it was horrible to hear them all the time. Especially when they were having whatever special alone time they had when everyone else left the house. It was horrible when you just wanted to sleep.

Like now, it was time for your afternoon nap. You should have showered off the blood from your morning torture but you couldn’t be bothered. They’d come again at night so it was better to just wash everything off at once. Nowadays, you slept three times a day and were given your meals only once. But you couldn’t sleep with the noise above you. So you moved to your little writing desk. If you ever got to see them again, you would have to thank the Dumbledores for getting you better conditions than last time. Your cell was the same size as last time but with weirder walls — these ones were rough stone like the walls of a cave. But you had a toilet and a shower and a sink, albeit only behind a thin white curtain.

And you had a lamp instead of total darkness. It wasn’t very bright but it allowed you to write and read. Dumbledore required that they let you keep your things you acquired from your time at his brother and nephew’s house. That didn’t stop them from raiding your things all the time under the guise of just checking. You had a small writing desk and a chair, no bookshelves. And your bed was just a bunch of blankets and duvets piled up on the floor.

You looked over at your food tray as your stomach grumbled. The Aurors technically gave you all three meals — no snacks — but they were given all at once in the morning and you had to ration it out. The choice was always when to let yourself starve as there was only enough food for two proper meals on lucky days. Sometimes it was only one good meal a day. Deciding to starve for lunch, you only grabbed your small cup of mashed potatoes meant for dinner and scarfed it down. It was humiliating that the Aurors forgot a spoon and forced you to eat with your mouth and hands.

As you set your cup down, you paused. The wooden spoon you and the guard who brought your food thought was forgotten was there all along. Stuck in the doorway. The door was open slightly which meant the barrier surrounding your cell was broken or at least weakened. You could escape. For years, you had contemplated your escape but every idea seemed implausible.

You opened the door all the way, knowing everyone else was distracted upstairs. In case someone would be alerted, you didn’t want to test the barrier’s ability to hold you back. Even if it was already broken, you wanted to be sure. There was a secret that even Albus Dumbledore didn’t know about. Credence thought that even if he told his father someone might look into Aberforth and Albus’ minds and then they would know. And if the Ministry found out that Tom Riddle’s daughter was an Obscurial then the Aurors would’ve gotten their way completely and you would probably be dead or tortured even worse than you already were.

Most importantly, Credence told you not to use the power in front of everyone. He had spent his lifetime figuring out how to channel an Obscurus’ power. It never really went away once you became an Obscurial. It was only something you could live with if you learned how to be a proper witch or wizard. And Credence suspected you two weren’t the only two Obscurials to have control but that no one who actually learned to live with their sickness would ever reveal to anyone. Not with the current lack of protection for you guys. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m an Obscurial,” you said as you set down your tea.

Credence looked up from his book like you had just burned him. How could you ruin a perfectly good Saturday with that news. He took his wand from off the side table and casted a silencing spell over the entire house.

“What did you say?”

“I’m an Obscurial.”

“How? I’ve seen the report. They had to let you practice so you wouldn’t become one and escape.”

“I did it on purpose.”

Credence swallowed. He understood you. A life as a dangerous Obscurial with a limited lifespan was better than what you had endured. Maybe you would have learned to control it like he did. From that morning on, Credence vowed to help you control and hopefully get rid of the Obscurial. He was so close to being fully cured himself. It was only right to help you achieve the same.

Light glowed and shot all up and down your arms, looking like the same light beams that come from wands. It shot out from you and hit where the barrier should be. Nothing. You were actually free. A chill went up your spine. You didn’t want to rush and risk everything. Instead, you went back to your cell and laid down.

You stuffed your face with the cake that was supposed to be dessert after dinner and laid down on the pile of blankets. If no one came in thirty minutes then you’d leave. While you laid down, you thought about what you would do once you escaped. Go back home. Even if you didn’t agree with your father, you would still go home. Did they still live in Riddle Cottage?

The flowers in the garden of Riddle Cottage were still alive despite it being August and a heat wave in Britain. The tulips, snapdragons, and bloodroots were still vibrant and colorful next to the actual summer flowers of dahlias, poppies, daisies, and lavender. You were picking a bunch of plants, wanting to make a bouquet for your parents.

“Excuse me, Mr. Bird,” you said to a hummingbird. “Can you find a different lavender plant? I need this one… thank you!”

“Y/N, the Malfoys are here!”

You turned around to see your mother, another woman, and a boy four years older than you standing in the doorway of the house. You grabbed a few more flowers before going back to the house. Smiling at your guests, you handed them a few of the flowers before giving some more to your mom.

“Did you pick the rest of these flowers for your father?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s make a pretty bouquet and then we can go.”

Tatienne Riddle led everyone inside. The Malfoys didn’t mind the wait, stating that Diagon Alley wasn’t closing anytime soon. It was eight in the morning. Your mom arranged the flowers into a bouquet and set them in a vase, handing the ceramic to you to hold. You followed her through the cottage until you reached your father’s study.

Lord Voldemort heard a small and high-pitched voice call out ‘Daddy’ before the door opened. He smiled as his wife and youngest child came into the room. You made a gagging noise as they kissed, much to their laughter. Ignoring them, you took his wand and tried to float over the vase. It wasn’t terribly high or terribly stable but it made it over.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Someone picked flowers in the garden for us, Tom. Oh, honey, watch out. It’s on the edge of the desk.”

“Do you need help?”

You nodded and your dad pulled the vase away from the very edge of the desk, pretending you floated it all the way over. Tatienne let him know that you were about to leave with the Malfoys to meet your siblings at Diagon Alley. He made sure that you guys had everything you needed before you left.

“Ah! Where’s my goodbye?”

You ran back into the room, giving him a hug and a kiss.

Diagon Alley was more exciting today than every other day. It was finally your turn to go to Hogwarts. You didn’t receive a letter — people didn’t really know if you existed or not — but you would just show up with your siblings and be given a spot. Everyone knew of your siblings, two brothers and two sisters. They were popular in Hogwarts. Of course they were. Lord Voldemort’s children would be well known. They were also known because they weren’t scary. Students didn’t know whether to like them or not. They couldn’t tell if it was a trick or not.

It was very much real. You guys were meant to have normal lives as children. But also, your father didn’t care one way or another for the killing. He only needed people at the top of government to die. Not everyone else. He wanted you guys to be nice and make friends with every blood of wizard in hopes they would willingly listen to him.

Diagon Alley was still busy even early in the morning. You all walked into Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlour where your siblings were sitting in a booth with their friends eating ice cream. They pointed to the ice cream cone holders for all of you. You took the cone of early gray and lavender. Your second brother — the next youngest — snorted as he got out of the booth.

“Who are you dressed up for, Luci?” Arnaud asked.

The other kids all laughed as Lucius and NAarcissa turned red in the face. Everyone knew they liked each other but were too afraid to say anything. Your oldest brother and the eldest sibling — by two minutes of his twin sister — bent down so you could get on his back. Your rather large group walked around Diagon Alley collecting supplies. Ollivander’s was the very last stop on the list since it was your big day as the only first year amongst the kids.

“Belrose, you or Odile take Y/N/N to the bathroom. We’ll be at the Menagerie,” Salazar said as he set you down from his back after you wiggled around enough to annoy him.

“I don’t have to pee,” you whined. “I’m hungry.”

“Okay, Stinky,” your sister said as she grabbed you. “Let’s go to the bathroom right here and we’ll all go to the Leaky Cauldron.”

“I’m not stinky.”

“I know, Stink. Let’s go.”

You did actually have to go to the bathroom, only realizing it after getting off of your brother. When you made it to the Leaky Cauldron, no one had gotten their food yet. As an eleven year old, your food order was very predictable and they went ahead and ordered for you. The streets outside were getting quieter as everyone was piling into restaurants to try and beat the lunch rush. You wiggled your fingers as the plate of fries and chicken skewers put in front of you.

You wished your dad was with you guys but you understood. Having committed no crimes, not even harboring a fugitive since you live with Voldemort not the other way around, you and your family could go outside. All minus your father. It was the reason he never allowed Tatienne to become a true Death Eater so she could take you guys out. Of course, she wore her Dark Mark proudly. You and your siblings weren’t required to get the tattoo but Salazar was considering it.

Belrose looked up from her wild rice soup. “No one is in here.”

“Huh?” Tatienne and Mrs. Malfoy looked around the entire pub. “Children, leave Diagon Alley. Now.”

Lucius scooped you up and you all started to run. Narcissa, being the first one to reach the door, screamed as a beam of light hit the threshold. You were dropped as everyone else started shouting spells. The windows were shattering as spells hit them. Tears streamed down your face as you saw the Aurors in person.

“There she is.”

You heard one of them say. Hands grabbed you and you tried to beat down on them but they wouldn’t let you go. You felt like your lungs would cave in from how hard you were screaming without taking a breath. Belrose and Arnaud squeezed on the necklaces each child was given right before they got on the train to Hogwarts, alerting your father that you all were in danger.

“Let go of my daughter! Stupefy!” Tatienne yelled.

“Alarte Ascendare.”

“Carpe Retractum!”

“Locomotor Mortis!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Crucio!”

“MAMAN!”

You and your siblings all yelled as your mother dropped to the floor of the destroyed pub. All the spells your siblings threw were worthless. You and the rest of the Aurors were already gone, along with everyone else that fled Diagon Alley when the spells started flying.

It had been thirty minutes and no one had come by but you had earned a nosebleed. You stood up, grabbing your most important books and stuffing them in a blanket-turned-backpack. Without shoes on, your feet were silent. The ground beneath them was a mixture of hard dirt and stone. The lights in the hallway were just as dim as the lamp in your room. You figured that there couldn’t be much space under a house in the city to hide you so going straight was probably the right idea. It felt like forever before you reached the stone staircase.

There was so much light when you slightly opened the door that led into the upper floor. You had to squint, eyes practically burning at how bright it was. Delicately, your fingers touched the green floral wallpaper. A bit of blood dripped onto the floor as you continued down the hallway. You could hear them talking in the dining room still. It wouldn’t be a problem if you swiped some food first. The kitchen was right there in the front.

You were practically drooling at the sight of food. Sneaking in, you plucked a few meatballs from their baking tray and shoved them into your mouth. It’s not like you cared about taking their stuff. They deserved more than that. Your sticky fingers took the chocolate tart with you and made your way to the front door.

Setting down your things, you looked at the lock to see if you could get out. It had a key. There was no way you could search the house for a key. You would just have to search downstairs. Quietly, you crept past the closed dining room door. The living room was scattered with trinkets and furniture amongst other things. Nothing immediately stood out as a key. You’d have to look around.

“What’s that noise?” Remus asked, no longer focusing on the meeting in front of him.

“Hmm?” Only Sirius and Peter asked.

“Do you hear that?”

They listened in, trying to ignore everyone’s conversations. Remus could hear it better than the other two but faintly they heard knocking about. Sirius stood up, letting them know he’d check alone. Standing up from the table, he tried to be nonchalant as he grabbed his wand and adjusted his clothes.

“Are the tarts done, Padfoot? Do you need help?”

“No, I’m just going to the toilet.”

“Okay.”

The rest of the marauders knew James got the message. If one of them ever said toilet instead of bathroom then they’d know to keep anyone from following the person. Taking the route through the kitchen, he began his search. He paused at the blood in the middle of the room. His head tilted as he saw more blood on his hardwood floor and staining the wool hallway runner in the foyer. He followed the stains going into the living room. All he could do was look on in shock as you searched through shelves.

Sirius was confused. Where did you come from? Why did you have no shoes on? Why did you and your thin dress look pristine but you had cuts everywhere? Maybe against his better judgment, he pocketed his wand. You clearly seem like you’re in distress rather than a threat.

You heard the sound of footsteps muffled on the carpet. Turning ever so slowly, you went wide-eyed at seeing an Auror that you’ve never seen before. He put a finger up to his lips while taking out his wand and setting it on the floor. Was he trying to help? He must not have been an Auror then.

“Sirius!” You both looked at the closed door where a male’s voice spoke. “Can he hear me? Sirius wher—”

You ran towards the front door, key be damned, and wiggled the doorknob as hard as you could.

“Help! Help!” you began to yell while banging on the door, hoping someone on the other side might hear you.

That drew the attention of everyone else. Remus, James, and Peter didn’t even try to stop anyone from going. A very hoarse sounding voice yelling through the house didn’t seem like a safe situation. You kept trying to throw your body against the door as you heard more footsteps, your voice getting more hoarse by the second. Sirius stopped them from going any further.

“Heeeeeellllllllp!” You were crying as you kept slamming your hands against the door. “Help… Please…H…”

Your voice gave out. You kept trying to slam on the door despite that, not wanting to be taken back downstairs. The doorknob wouldn’t even budge as you tried to kick at it. Sirius flinched when you fell down after the fourth kick. You just laid there, crying and staining the carpet with blood.

“Shit.”

Everyone turned to look at Moody. Sirius cocked an eyebrow.

“Do you know her?”

Moody sighed. His answer was cut short by Dumbledore apparating into the foyer. He tilted his head looking at everyone piled into the narrow walk space before turning. A gasp escaped his lips.

“Y/N?”

“Who?”

“Y/N Riddle,” Alastor finally got out.

You closed your eyes and accepted your fate again, sticking your arms straight up in the air. You didn’t even flinch when hands grabbed you by the fabric of your dress and lifted you up. The others watched as Moody arrested you, unsure about their feelings as they watched you shake your head with your eyes still closed.

“Should have known you’d try to escape.”

“Let her go, Alastor!”

Dumbledore, Aberforth, and Credence apparated into Grimmauld. All of their wands were pointed at the Auror. Albus just shook his head as he extended a hand. Reluctantly, Moody gave you over.

“You’ve broken the rules of the warrant, Alastor. We will be taking her back now.”

“No.”

Credence pushed you behind him. “Y/N? Why don’t you with the others?"

You barely whispered out the word okay when you and the others went into the dining room. From the kitchen you could hear a very loud argument.

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie

#marauders fic #marauders era #voldemort #harry potter au #harry potter fic

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cheriecelestial · 14 days

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Luminary Pt.II

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Yan Emperor!OC X Swordmaster!OC

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ yandere thoughts. hurt/ no comfort. angst. mentions of violence and character death. lovers to enemies.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Please listen to Joel Sunny’s Luminary for the whole experience. COMMENT LIKE & REBLOG ✿.*･｡ﾟ (ㅅ´ ˘ `) Pt.1

“Atticus was kind,” Atticus' ears perked up at his mention, his brows knitted in confusion as to why she was referring to him as if she was talking about someone else ? “You said your magic erases insignificant feelings. You were always so full of kindness, what happened?” Her words struck the platinum haired man like lightning. But what she saw in him was just him mirroring her light like the moon does with the sun and nothing else.

“To you my darling. I was kind because you deserved it. I cared because you did, always. You broke me out of my mould, out of all the rules and conceptions I had about my life. And I loved you for it. But before I knew it i started doing everything by your book. Everything for you. To win you, for validation, for love. So much so that I lost sight of my goal.” His words died by the end of his sentence, if they were talking truth now — he might as well splay his feelings out in front of her.

“I was just trying to save you. I-I-”Cecily barely stuttered out. He felt Cecily's hand on his shoulder dig in. Her bottom lip quivered and her body trembled to the point that she swayed slightly on her feet. If he could feel any guilt or remorse he was sure that the look on her face would've devastated Atticus more than anything he had experienced before but all he felt was a strange tightness in his chest.

Calming herself, she took a deep breath and spoke in a low tone,“ Is that what I was to you ? A distraction from your goal ? I tried Atticus. I tried so hard to save you from yourself.” He telt a part of his shoulder burn where she rested her hand.

“Distraction ? No my love. I know you tried to save me and for a moment there - I swore you did . But leaving behind all I had ever known was a risk I was never willing to take, because what will become of me when I abandon the laws that have shaped me ? You gave me life but my vengeance gave me purpose.” Atticus knew he wasn’t a good man from the very start. That something was fundamentally flawed about his existence. An inadequacy, one he’d never overcome. And somewhere deep within, he was jealous. Jealous of Cecily for being so perfect . She always so full of vitality. Like a star, even when she held his face in her hands — she always somehow felt so far away, somehow felt so unattainable. The problem with being born in hell and then being getting a taste of heaven was - that no matter how hard you tried you could never overcome that nagging feeling in the back of your head that told you that you didn’t belong. There was one sole lesson he learnt from all of this was he had too many demons to love an angel. So if he couldn’t belong in the heaven, he would drag his haloed darling to the hell.

“The reason I came here was to see if there was a modicum of redeemable humanity left in you. If there was any part of my Atticus left. Marcel was right, you have changed beyond recognition. I no longer recognise the person I’m looking at.” Her tone grew distant by the second. It was the same tone people talked about the deceased at funerals. Mourning him as if he had died, like he wasn’t still alive and breathing in front of her. She almost thought it would be easier if he had died. At least she’d feel some sort of closure, knowing he’s not coming back. But this, this was a nothing but pure torture for her.

But then he wasn’t gone, if anything he was doing better than he ever was. Leaving her behind to pick up the shattered pieces of what they once had. Yet somehow, she couldn’t hate him for that - not really anyways. No amount of anger would mend the torn pieces of her broken heart. She was left in emotional turmoil, love mixing with hate mixing with rage, betrayal and depression. No matter how many times the word hate flashed through her mind, it was never truly directed at Atticus. Rather the world, the things they had forced upon him, the pressure he had been made to feel.

Shakily, Cecily raised her palm to caress his hair. Atticus almost flinched at how warm her war calloused hand felt against his face. He nuzzled his face closer to her palm as his emotions as a cacophony of fear, desire, hate, and desolation, all battling one another for control. Her touch was a fire he would willingly walk into.

Cecily cupped Atticus’ face and tilted her chin up to him, parting her lips ever so slightly. Atticus’s brain went into overdrive at her invitation. She resembled a siren, calling out to him with her sweet song and in the back of his head he knew there would be consequences to this. But the moment her lips touched his he stopped breathing. His mind went blank. Every feeling, thought, and emotion that he has ever felt floods through him in a torrent. He could barely comprehend the feeling of her lips on his own. His hands wrapped themselves around her back and tighten as the rush of emotions overwhelms him. At the same time, he was aware of how much he hated this. She was ruining him and she had no idea how much her touch was destroying everything he spent so much time meticulously building.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.” Cecily’s emerald green eyes looked hollow yet somehow reverential when she pulled away. Atticus wanted to grab her shoulders, shake her violently and yell that he was still here so why did she look at him with such melancholy.

“I don’t need saving Cecilia. Join me my darling. Be my queen and I swear we could restore this empire to all its deserved glory.”He gripped her hand resting against his cheek and pleaded. He didn’t care if he sounded desperate or pathetic, he just needed her to say yes.

Cecily shook her head slowly and said,“ As appealing as it sounds, you and I both know you don’t plan on making me anything apart from your canary in a gilded cage because I will never approve of you methods and neither will I aid you in them.” Atticus sighed in defeat. He bit the inside of his cheek till he tasted blood. If she wasn’t going to give in voluntarily, he just had to make her.

“You know you can’t win against me. Even if you persevere and defeat my armies. You can’t kill me. Dark magic makes me impervious to all weaponry and magic. No one in history has ever been able to accomplish it. What makes you think you will be able to do it ?” Atticus challenged her knowing that even with all her strength, there was no way in hell she could win. She wouldn’t fight for so long if she knew she didn’t stand a chance, an ominous voice warned him .

“None but one”

He knew who she was referring to. The legend Seraphina Andrea Reginald and her aura sword — the Caelum Lux. The founder of the continent. She was this golden figure who was the beacon of morality, freedom and justice. An allegory and dubbed to be reincarnation of the goddess of light Lumine. But that was the end of it- a legend, another one of story tellers’ dramatic gimmicks to make little children believe in virtue. Even though Cecily belonged to her bloodline, calling upon such power was next to impossible.

“It’s a children’s story my darling. The Caelum Lux isn’t a real sword and you know it.”

Cecily lightly shrugged in response as a silent ‘yes well’. The orchestra began their final piece and a familiar melody swirled around them. It was the song Atticus often played for them at late hours when they’d sneak into the music room at the music room back when they were in the academy. What were the odds that they would play this very song as their final piece ?

“It’s the last waltz your majesty. Dance with me. Just like the old times.”

Wordlessly, Atticus pulled her closer. Her cheek was resting on his chest and his other hand almost holding her in a half hug. This wasn’t the standard waltz position, but it was something so comfortingly intimate to them. She was good to him but not to his cause. To Atticus Asterin – Cecily Reginald is an obstacle, but to Atty - Ces is an anchor. His heart felt at peace but his instincts were blaring sirens as if she was his greatest enemy and who knows maybe she was. Push her away and leave, the voice told him as a sign of fatal danger. He gripped her closer as if retaliating to the instinct. Atticus wasn’t going to let anyone take Cecily away from him, not even himself.

“The Caelum Lux isn’t a sword, it’s a bloodline.”Cecily stated calmly as if it wasn’t the most groundbreaking piece of information Atticus had heard. “You remember my father, the late duke, had all my distant relatives covertly killed a few years ago ?”

“Yes, I do remember. It was perhaps the only occasion you mustered the courage to confront him,” he countered. Instead of retaliating in her usual fury, Cecily merely smiled and continued, “Its aura can be invoked by the last descendant after absorbing the light energy of their deceased kin. Seraphina Reginald wasn’t a swordmaster — she was a mage. The most formidable one to ever exist.” Atticus’ blood ran cold. He remembered the duke and his cold eyes. They were the same colour as Cecily’s but they always held nothing but disgust and disdain, looking at him as if he were nothing but an insect. The only time a different expression crossed the duke’s face was as he lay dying. Atticus pressed the sword to his heart and the duke just smiled back at him. The same smile Cecily was wearing. The same smile a hunter wore when they caught their prey.

After gaining his power, Atticus believed he could shed his fear. He swore to himself that he would never go back to being that helpless weak boy who was even scared of his own shadow. He wasn’t supposed to feel this anymore.

Push her away. She’s dangerous.

Push her away.

“I see.” He felt as though he was stepping forward over this ravine with a snapping tightrope, but she was on the other side with a lamp and a knife, daring him to cross it. But it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t catch him — not anymore. He had emerged victorious, then why did he feel like he was exactly where the duke wanted him to be ?

Atticus looked down to her face pressed against his chest. It was a pleasant. Despite having this beautiful perspective emphasised, Atticus found his head reeling and his breath shallowing. His heart hammering in his chest unstably, feeling somewhat claustrophobic. She can’t defeat me, that’s what the platinum haired man kept telling himself. He was caught in a tailspin, a tailspin that was only leading him one place. He couldn’t let that happen. But she kept haunting his thoughts, along with the other ghosts holed up in his head. Did ruination and salvation always look this identical ?

You can’t put Atticus upon yourself to save — he made the choices he made, you can’t change them. You can’t save a person who doesn’t want to be saved. She told herself sternly. She must done what she had to, what she came here to do. Cecily took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. She didn’t know if she was telling the truth when she said she didn’t recognise him. Everything about him, every minuscule detail about him, had been exactly as she had remembered. He still had the same sweet and playful look in his eyes. He still had the same charming smile. He was still the same person she fell in love with all those years ago so it hurt. She cried, wailed, and tried to be strong as she thought about the moments shared with him and how cruel it was that this was where she ended up.

Their eyes lock, returning each other's gaze, scrutinising the abysmal of their souls that was built with a blended sentiment. She saw a bead of perspiration run down the side of his forehead and his breath getting more laboured by the second. She had to act fast.

For a fleeting moment, silence prevailed in between, the rhythm of their breathing stirring with the progression of the music around them. The music of the waltz filled the room with a gentle, flowing melody. It began with a simple rhythm, gradually building into a sweeping cadence. Footsteps and hands were in perfect time with the music, moving with precision and grace. It was a soothing, romantic piece. The tempo of the music shifted and changed, following the dynamics of the song and the movements of the dancers. Soon it reached a feverish crescendo indicating its dramatic ending .

Atticus wrapped her waist and lifted her in the air for a spin. When he set her down he noticed her eyes were closed. “Love ?” He asked but she didn’t respond. Growing unnerving due to the lack of response he reaped, he called out to her again. An ominous feeling crept up his spine as the voice in his head chided him, too late. When she opened her eyes, they glowed with unnatural amount of light almost as if the goddess Lumine herself had descended from the heavens. Wait, goddess ? Now it all started to make sense to him. Her coming here, the legend of Seraphina Reginald and the Caelum Lux.

Blinding light engulfed the ballroom leaving everyone stunned. And when the light faded, Atticus heard someone scream. He felt oddly disoriented and overwhelmed. What is going on ? He opened his mouth to speak but nothing except blood came out. His hand flew to his neck to feel the thick waterfall of blood dripping from the side of his neck. Before he could register what happened, his knees bucked as he stumbled. Is that my blood ? Am I dying ? His vision started to blur and he felt life slipping away like sand from his fingers. Unlike anything he had ever imagined, instead of fear he felt warmth.

In that moment, he saw the star decorations in the centre of the dome and all the incomplete dreams and promises of forever they made in their youth. His vision cleared for a second and he saw her. He saw everything he ever loved about her – her countenance bore an undeniable allure. Her spun hair, painstakingly brushed to perfection, flowed like silk threads, infused with small silver flowers, an extravagant touch. The jagged burn scar that ran down the side of her face, something that never deterred him from loving her all the same. Swathed in rich lace, her garments caressed her form with the grace of luxury, their hue an enchanting shade of white. This allure was further accentuated by her green eyes, glinting like shards of frozen emeralds, reflecting an unyielding mysterious depth — a landscape of evergreen forests like the ones they would often go hunting in. He stared at her till his vision was tainted by red.

As the world around him darkened, he was left with the haunting echoes of what once was, leaving him to wonder how it all came to this point. too many questions, too little answers. They said love healed, love nurtured, love saved many. Unfortunately for them, the poets were wrong after all, not even love was enough to save them. Her lips moved to say something he couldn’t quite catch, Atticus used the last bit of his strength to strain his ears to hear the last words she would say to him before he left this world .

“Rest now my love, may the gods receive you on the other side, pardoning that which may be absolved.”

#yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yanderecore #yandere x oc #yandere male #male yandere #tw: yandere #yandere imagines #oc x oc #songfic #lovers to enemies #hurt/no comfort #angst #historical fantasy #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n

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luna-redamancy · 2 years

Note

Hello (*ﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ here to request some thorin x reader where the reader is a dragon trainer ? She lived with dragons since young and Smaug was actually her familiar/partner before, now she is trying to help the Dwarves get their home

Hello!! This is such a cool idea and it makes me want to watch How to Train Your Dragon...

Edit: I just now realized this was supposed to be a Thorin x reader... And I wrote just a Company x reader.. I’m so sorry!

Anywho, I hope you enjoy it!

“So you work with…Dragons,” Balin was carefully wording his sentences, in hopes of not offending you, nor his kin that he knew were listening very closely as he sat across from you. The fire crackled in the background and it reminded you of teaching the young drakes to control their fire in terms of intensity and range.

You had yet to sign the contract, wanting to read every bit of it thoroughly. As you told Gandalf, if there were any bits of information regarding killing or hurting Smaug, you would not sign it and you wouldn’t join in on their mission.

Looking up from the parchment, you gave him a smile. “I do,” You encouraged, putting a finger where you were last reading so you could continue in a moment.

“Do you know of Dragon Trainers, Sir Balin?” You inquired, tilting your head.

“I’m afraid I do not,” Balin chuckled nervously to which you nodded in understanding.

“I know Smaug had hurt you all severely, and for that, I am forever sorry,” You began, “But please know, that not all dragons are like him. He lost his way,” You sighed, looking back down at the paper.

“How do you know he lost his way?”

“I once worked with him, when he was younger.” You realized you now had an audience. The entire Company now hovering in the doorway, trying to not look so suspicious.

“His former trainer died from old age, and he was heartbroken, he barely got up to hunt or make a small hoard, so they gave him to me to work with,” You began to tell his story, remembering play fighting with the small drake, taking him to get treats whenever he did exceptionally well during training.

He transformed in front of your eyes. No longer was he the depressed dragon that he came to you as, he was kind and playful, courteous and passionate. Not this greedy, murderous, vicious beast that the world saw him as.

“And what happened?” Balin seemed very interested, wanting to know how he went from being in something akin to a dragon’s camp to rampaging his home.

“We aren’t entirely sure,” You shook your head, “But the elder trainers think that it had to do with the unearthing of the Dragon Stone, or what most called it, the Arkenstone.”

It felt like the world was put on pause as Balin stared at you in horror.

“It’s a magnificent jewel, yes,” You nodded, “Beautiful and vibrant, glowing on its own. But it also has magic within it,” You explained. Pausing to put the quill where your finger was so you could grab your book out of your bag.

“See here,” You flipped the pages rapidly to get to where you had put a placeholder before. The Arkenstone was drawn in the center, glowing bright, with dragons lined up behind it.

“For some reason, the magic within it causes unfathomable greed in mankind, but for dragons, it sparks undeniable rage that is only calmed whenever the dragons are near it. Like some sort of drug,” You explained, “We haven’t ever been able to have a dragon near one without it causing them to go feral.”

“So you think when the Arkenstone was found and put in King Thror’s throne-”

“It was a beacon to dragons to come take it,” You finished Kili’s sentence as he approached the two of you.

“I don’t know if that’s the exact reason he did what he did, and nothing can excuse the hell he rained down on you all,” You looked over to them.

“What Smaug did was terrible, and I understand that you want his head on a pedestal,” You focused on Thorin, eyes pleading.

“Just let me help get you your homeland back. I can get him out safely and take him so he can go back to the far north so our elders can work with him.”

“How do you know he’ll go with you?” Ori piped in, looking concerned.

“I am a dragon trainer, and since he has left and done this, well, we’ve trained in how to deal with dragons that are falling to Dragon Stone magic.”

“Bilbo can help me get the stone away from Smaug,” You looked at the newly contracted burglar with a grin, “And once it’s out of sight and covered, the magic effects should wear off and he should come to his senses.”

Thorin sighed deeply through his nose before approaching.

“We will trust what you can do, Lady Dragon Trainer.”

“Thorin-” Dwalin opened his mouth to argue but Thorin shook his head.

“Gandalf believes in what she can do, and if this can end with little bloodshed…” Thorin paused, recalling all of his kin screaming as dragon-fire exploded through the kingdom walls. Thousands of their military were wiped out within seconds.

“Then I will gratefully take the opportunity.”

“You won’t regret it, Thorin,” You bowed your head in thanks before resuming reading the contract, nerves twisting in your stomach. You had a long journey ahead of you.

#the company x reader #the company of thorin oakenshield #the hobbit imagines #the hobbit fanfiction #reader-insert #fluff #the hobbit x reader #jrr tolkien #xreader #fanfic #the hobbit #fanfiction

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colorfullfalls · 1 year

Text

Wrong bitch

Fic where Y/N is confronted by a witch in forks area to pass along a warning to the pack but Embry gets over protective about it. (Part 1)

Fires with the pack were always your favorite. Everyone sitting around bullshitting while Billy Black told stories of the wonderful creation of the pack. Imprints sat snugly against their wolves against the large logs that the boys had carried in from the dense woods. Lightning bugs circled the group and little claire, who was now seven years old, looked at them in wonder, trying to catch them when they flew near her.

Life was good. Things were good with the pack and between the Cullens. The Cullens had actually planned on moving away soon and leaving Renessme in La Push with Jacob. She was at an age where she was considered “adult” and it was her choice, much to Edward’s disapproval.

For some reason more and more wolves were shifting still, hence the newest three members sitting around the fire too. Leo, Macie, and Ricky. Macie amazed the pack again with being another female shifter, making Leah feel less alone.

Y/N cuddled into her fiancé Embry as Billy finished the last tale, everyone quiet with wonder and magic filling they minds. Her body was comfortably warm from being held against her lover, feeling content as always when he was near.

“It’s about time to head home, love. You have work in the morning.” Embry softly spoke into her ear, kissing her cheek after his last word. She sleepily nodded in agreement and together they moved as one to stand up and collect their things, mumbling goodbyes before wandering off towards Embry’s truck.

On the way home their hands were connected the whole time. Embry loved Y/N with his entire being and it had been like that his whole life. They grew up neighbors and his whole life was impacted by her very presence. A part of him always knew that she was the girl for him. He loved her and he felt very protective of her ever since he could remember. He wondered if that was a pre imprint feeling or natural that regular boys would feel over a crush. Except Y/N always felt more and mattered more than a normal crush.

He blushed as he remembered the first time she kissed him in eighth grade when he was bummed that Jake got his first kiss before him. Y/N shut him up within seconds by pressing her soft lips against his. From then he knew he was in love with her.

“Do you think that Macie will ever find an imprint? Or do you think the girls are like forever doomed?” Y/N asked, rubbing her thumb across the back of Embry’s hand.

He was sort of stumped by that question, “Uh.. I honestly don’t know. I mean maybe they just haven't found their person yet. They still have time.”

“I can't imagine not knowing you my whole life, Em.” She sleepily said, “You have always been my person. Why do you think I was so quick to kiss you in eighth grade?”

Embry laughed, “that was like the best day of my life.”

“As it should have been.”

They pulled into the driveway and Embry turned off the truck. He felt a soft hand grab his chin, Y/N turning his head towards her. She leaned in and kissed his lips three quick times, “I. Love. You.”

Embry felt so in love that he could melt, every cell in his body felt comfortably warm and he was almost giddy with glee as he glanced at the beautiful woman in front of him. His woman.

“You’re gonna make me cry.” Embry said, pulling her in for a longer kiss.

-----

Waking up the next morning, Y/N felt good. She may or may not have had the best sex of her life the night before and it made her blush thinking about the hickies that covered her chest and thighs. It would put her in a good mood for the rest of the day. Or so she thought.

She was driving down the road when all the sudden her car began to slow down until it came to a halt. Fear wiggled its way into her chest. How the hell did her car do that? She had gas and none of the lights were on the dash. Jake and Embry has just worked on her car and she would feel guilty if they had to fix it yet again. She sighed before getting out her phone to text Embry that he car just literally shit the bed on her.

A knock on the window made her scream. At the other side of the glass stood a tall woman who looked pissed. She motioned for Y/N to roll down the window but Y/N just shook her head no. The woman impatiently signaled for her to roll the window down again.

“I’m good with the window being up!” Y/N yelled.

The woman rolled her eyes, “I need to talk to you.” With those words the window rolled down magically without the car even being on.

Y/N began to panic knowing that this woman just magically caused the window to go down without electricity making it go down. This woman was a magic user and that mean she was most likely bad news. Had she targeted Y/N?

“I have a message I need you to deliver.” The woman said, crossing her arms and leaning forward to be eye level with the poor girl in the car.

“Too bad that I am not a mail man..” Y/N awkwardly said trying to avoid eye contact. She knew that Embry would arrive soon but she just hoped it would be any second now.

“Your humor is not charming to me, wolf girl. Tell the pack to stay out of Forks or else there will be a war. I am nicely warning you, my coven wants to kill first and negotiate second. So pass this message along.”

Y/N squinted her eyes in confusion, “Hold on a second.. you said coven? Like as in Witches?”

“Yes”

Y/N shook her head, “The pack doesn't even know you exist so why start a war?”

The witch glared at her for a moment before laughing, “Your little wolf keeps secrets from you. We have been interacting these past couple months and our patience is wearing thin. They have ruined multiple of our sacrifices this past month and they are putting us in jeopardy. This is why you will pass the message along.”

“Sacrifices? Human sacrifices?”

The witch rolled her eyes, “You wouldn’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand? You’re killing people, of course the pack is going to fight that. They protect the people of their lands.”

Anger was swelling in Y/N for two different reasons. One was that human sacrifices are happening and two is that Embry kept this all from her. Why wouldn’t he tell her that there was another threat that wasn’t vampires? Since when did he dare keep secrets from her like this? She was embarrassed that she was caught so off guard and was put in danger.

“They’re not very good at protecting people if I was able to get alone time with an imprint this easily.” The Witch noted, backing away, “Remember- this is their last warning. And if I were you I’d leave if they don’t feel like listening.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to hurt innocent people.”

And with that the witch walked off and the car started back on again. Y/N watched in wonder as she watched the beautiful woman walk away with confidence.

Since when were witches real too? Like witches with magic and strong enough power to stop a car going fifty miles per hour.

Y/N texted Embry.

My car started back up. Since when do you keep secrets from me? Just met a witch. Not the best way to start off my morning.

Within seconds her phone was ringing. Embry.

“Come home right now.” His voice was panicked and impatient, “we are having an emergency pack meeting and I need you here safe with me right now.”

He was freaking the fuck out and she could tell. A part of her felt smug that he was freaking out because he deserved it for keeping this secret from her. But she knew better than to test him when he was worried for her danger.

“I have wor-“

“Come home.” His voice was leaving no room for arguing. None at all.

“Okay.”

You noticed three wolves on the way home during the drive. Paul, Jake, and Quil. You knew that Embry immediately send them to your location once he got your text. You made eye contact with Jake and nodded at him showing that you were okay. They were clearly all worried.

Embry was standing on the porch with his arms crossed, muscles looking strong and hot as always. She didn’t want to admit that he was cute, she was slightly annoyed with him.

His long legs carried him to the door and he ripped open the door and had her in his arms within seconds of the car being stopped. His nose tucked into her neck, trying to get her scent to calm himself down. He growled when he smelled the witch.

“You okay?” He pulled away and checked her whole body.

“Yes. She didn’t touch me. Just sent me with a warning-“ Embry growled again, “that you guys need to stay out of their way.”

“She made a big mistake going to you.” Jake said, walking up while slipping his black t-shirt on, “she basically declared war by messing with an imprint. They know our laws, they were just dumb enough to break them.”

“I’m confused here, since when are there witches in Forks?”

“For sixth months now.” Jake replied as if a secret wasn’t kept from her.

Y/N scoffed, “Great. And why wasn’t I told this? I don’t like things being kept from me. I was totally thrown off guard here today.”

She was mad. And slightly hurt. Embry didn’t keep stuff from her. He wasn’t supposed to. Even before the imprint they were best friends and always were truthful with each other. So now why was something so important kept in the dark?

“We didn’t want the imprints to know because the witches are even more dangerous than leeches. They have a wide range of powers and their spells can affect you from a long range. The packs decided to handle this issue quietly,” Embry explained. He brushed the hair out of Y/N’s face, “We never thought they would know about you guys if we kept you safe.”

Y/N sighed. It was difficult to stay angry when his pleading eyes were winning her over like that. Embry pulled her in for another hug trying to keep himself calm.

“I’ll call Sam. He’ll want to know.” Jake reported, pulling out his phone.

Quil ran up, “guys, I just talked to Sam. There’s a pack meeting in an hour at his and Emily’s to discuss this matter. The tribal leaders will be attending too.”

Embry pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head, “Why the hell are we the ones who always have to deal with this shit?”

“We were born into it man.” Quil quipped, “don’t really have a choice.”

“I’m gonna run patrol for a while. This all has my blood boiling and I need to calm down. Embry, Quill, if I notice anything I’ll howl.” Jake said, stalking off to the woods.

Jake seemed more pissed off than Embry did suddenly. Which was odd because Embry was feeling over protective. Y/N watched him as he phased into a wolf, clothes shredding and falling slowly to the damp ground.

“Why is Jake peeved?” She asked Embry later as they got ready for the meeting together.

He frowned for a moment as if to think how to begin, “All of this happened because of Nessie. The witches got word that a being like her existed and it made them interested in Forks. Apparently it’s said that magic is strong here… because of us. They want to find out the source of magic and take it for themselves. Legend has it that the first witch of their coven was born here. They’re determined to figure out what made her so powerful.”

Y/N felt overwhelmed by all the sudden information. Witches were real and she knew that, but for Forks to be where this coven’s leader came from seemed like a lot. Obviously this land had beautiful magic deep within it because of the mere existence of the wolves. But for witches to be tied into the land too spoke wonders for how strong the magic here really was.

“So they are doing research basically.” Y/N deadpanned.

Embry was tying his boots when she said this and it made him stop and look at her, “Do you think we started this?”

She shook her head no, “What? No! Of course not, but the way you explained it made them seem like they were doing a bit of self discovery here.”

He rolled his eyes, “If self discovery means sacrifices than sure babe.”

“Em.”

“Look, they’re dangerous Y/N. They have powers that we don’t yet understand. Vampires- we know how they work, what they do and why they do it. These witches are a whole new ball park for us so it’s a bit scary. I was already a little overwhelmed by this and then they target you.”

“She didn’t hurt me. Just stopped my car.” Y/N mumbled.

Embry finished tying his boots and walked over to her, sliding one arm around her waist and one hand cupping her cheek to make her look into his brown eyes, “If anything ever happened to you, it would kill me.”

She sighed, “I know.”

“So I’m gonna freak out over this and be pissed off. I’m allowed to. When it comes to you, shit matters. I will not let them ever get near you again.”

“I’m confused as to why they picked me. If Nessie is what had drawn them in this area, wouldn’t they go after her?”

Embry leaned down and kissed her forehead, “I don’t know the answer to that fully. I’m guessing that they are a little scared of her because she has the wolves and a clan of vampires to protect her.”

“So I’m nothing compared to that, that’s why they targeted me.. a human.”

Embry growled, “They were dumb to do that in the first place.”

“Promise me no more secrets. When I said yes,” she held up her hand with the engagement ring, “it meant that we are a sealed team now. I am your partner and I deserve to know what’s going on in the packs. I’m going to be a wolf wife here.”

Embry grinned, “Wolf wife. I like the sound of that.”

She blushed but pushed him away with her hands even though he pulled her right back in, “I’m serious here. No more secrets about this kind of stuff.”

His brown eyes softened as he leaned down to give her a kiss, “I whole heartedly promise, my love. No more secrets.”

She hummed in content as they hugged and swayed side to side, “We have to leave you know.”

“Let me enjoy this moment with you please.”

Pulling up to the Black’s residence in Embry’s truck, Y/N saw that truly everyone was there. Charlie and Sue, Edward and Bella even. Which was no surprise really considering that Reneesme was involved. She was their miracle baby and anything that involved her involved the whole family.

Y/N didn’t mind the woman, she just thought that she was over protected for her mental age. Bella and Edward babied her and Jake was always breathing down her neck, worried about threats coming her way. Special, special special. They all called her special.

Special enough to have witches swarm the area, Y/N thought as she got a glimpse of the woman through the window. Nessie was talking to her parents with Jacob standing close behind her.

Y/N didn’t know who was worse, Sam with Emily or Jacob with Nessie. All of the wolves were protective of their imprints, but those two were the worst. She figured it was the alpha in them, protecting their beloved Luna or whatever.

Embry had his fair share of protectiveness, but she had never seen him act like he did today about the witch. She understood his worry, but she wasn’t used to him needing to touch her so much. She kind of liked the attention in a selfish and mean kind of way. It made her feel slightly guilty that Embry was so upset about what happened earlier.

“Everyone’s here. Damn.” She mumbled.

“I told you this was serious, baby. This situation is a lot larger than we had realized. Especially since what happened with you today.” Em said, grabbing her hand.

“Is it bad that I’m nervous to be the center of attention right now?” She asked, pointedly looking at him.

“You and Nessie both are. She’s the reason they’re here and you’re the one they came to. It’ll be okay. I’m here with you. Always.” He sweetly said, kissing her hand, “Now let’s get this over with.”

#Embry call imagine #Embry call x reader #twilight imagine

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spartanguard · 9 months

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sons of love and death, 3/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon]

A/N: Back again with the next chapter of this year’s @cssns story! Some revelations in this update...hope you like it! (Forever thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl!)

rated M | 4.7k words | AO3 | 1 | 2

The man—not-Killian, Emma was calling him until they found out his real name—had fallen silent during the quick drive to the station, not even affected by the siren screaming (both in warning and from disuse). He made no complaints as they ushered him into the other cell—the one that didn't have half-melted bars. He only slumped listlessly to the cot and tilted his head back, eyes closed, in a defeated manner. She almost felt bad for him, to see him so distressed, until she shook her head to remind herself that it wasn’t really Killian.

"So, gonna tell us your name yet?" David asked casually.

The man didn't open his eyes. "Dorian. Dorian Gray."

"Like the picture?" It slipped out of Emma's mouth without thinking, and suddenly two sets of eyes were on her in varying degrees of surprise. "What? I read." (And she’d seen the movie with Ben Barnes because, well, Ben Barnes, but that wasn’t as relevant at present.)

Dorian sighed. "Yes, just like the picture. Although Mr. Wilde’s version of my tale is far from the truth."

"Aren't they all?" David scoffed.

"So what is your story, buddy?” she asked, crossing her arms and stepping closer. “I thought you wished on a painting for eternal youth so you could go on a lifelong bender."

"Parts of that. I can attest to the desire for youth and debauchery; but my reasons were far different, and I had a hand in casting the spell myself."

A chill went down Emma's spine, but she didn't let it show. “Sounds like some pretty dark magic.”

“Well, I learned from the best,” he sneered, with a grin that was far from genuine.

“Who?” she demanded.

“Why, the Dark One, of course.”

“Rumpelstiltskin?” That didn’t seem in-character, but she always seemed to forget the man’s paternal leanings, even if he was kind of her ex-father-in-law.

Dorian shook his head. “Zoso, his predecessor. He raised me.”

“You were adopted?” David asked, probably not as nonchalantly as he’d intended—but it needed to be asked so they could figure out just where this guy came from.

“I certainly didn’t get my good looks from him,” Dorian scoffed.

“So then—”

“Emma!”

She jumped at the sound of Killian’s panicked voice—actually him this time—and his insistent footsteps on the station’s linoleum. She only just turned around before he was slamming into her in a bruising hug.

“Hey, is everything alright?” she asked, trying to make sure he couldn’t see over her shoulder just yet.

“If you're fine, then yes,” he sighed, burying his face in her hair (good). “Gold told me to come here; I was worried.”

She returned the embrace, but knew she only had so long before either Killian or the prisoner noticed the other; probably better to rip off the bandaid.

When she pulled back, he immediately began to study her face, and his brow furrowed a bit. "Swan, what is it?" he said, worried, no doubt seeing her own trepidation.

Before she had a chance to reply, Dorian interrupted. "What the actual fuck?"

Killian’s eyes darted over, then went wide as he studied the man behind the bars. He opened his mouth a couple times to say something, but the only thing that came out was "Bloody hell."

“I got the impression I had a lookalike, not a replica,” Dorian asserted, standing to give Killian a once over. “I must say, though—I wear this face better.”

“Who the hell are you and why are you here?” Killian growled, moving closer to the cell—but staying protectively in front of Emma, she noticed.

“I could ask you just the same, mate,” Dorian countered, slipping his arms through the bars and leaning against them. “Am I your father or something?” he asked, tilting his head in question.

Killian barked out a humorless laugh. “Definitely not, though you’re likely just as much a bastard. And I’m far older than I look, mate,” he bit out, his tone on that last word anything but friendly.

“What a coincidence—so am I.”

Tense silence fell as the nearly indistinguishable men began a staredown, but behind them, Emma found her dad’s eyes; she saw a conclusion settle in his gaze, and she had a feeling she was starting to come to the same one, but she still wanted confirmation—either from Gold, or more modern means.

Speaking of—the former Dark One arrived just then, breezing into the station with far more grace than Emma expected from someone who was definitely reliant on his cane now. “Captain; Mrs. Swan-Jones,” he called as he strode in. “I’ve got some information you’ll find interesting.”

He rounded the corner, Belle right behind him, with the vial from earlier in his grasp—then paused, when he saw all eyes on him, though the two matching blue ones were rather annoyed. “Or perhaps you’ve figured it out on your own,” he said awkwardly.

“Not really,” Emma replied. “What did you find out?”

Gold held up the vial, the strands of hair in it now glowing an unnatural green. “I basically did the magic version of a DNA test, and as you can see, it’s a clear match.” It was a good thing he liked to be the smartest in the room; she never would have guessed that’s what that neon color meant.

“A match?” Killian and Dorian said in unison, then turned and glared at each other again.

“Yes. Captain, this interloper is your twin brother. Identical, obviously.”

Shit. Even though it should have been apparent, Emma was still stunned. She was expecting some (more) alternate timeline shenanigans, or some sort of wormhole clone; not a twin.

“Impossible,” Killian breathed, now staring at his apparent brother in something resembling horror. “I would have known—they would have said—”

“Not necessarily,” David interrupted softly. Emma wanted to reach out to Killian—to soothe him or something—but her dad was definitely the expert in this situation, having been through it himself. (Why was secret twin a common thing in the Enchanted Forest? Or were these the only examples and Emma just happened to find herself adjacent to both of them?)

Dorian spoke up, but he sounded far less cocky than he had at any point yet—restrained, almost. “My birth parents gave me up to the Dark One,” he explained. “But that’s all I was told; nothing else.”

“Not an unheard-of occurrence,” Gold stated plainly, but he was looking at David; at least they were all on the same page with that memory.

“Never mind that,” Dorian went on, shaking his head and straightening his posture. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was trying to stand taller than Killian, but that clearly wasn’t going to work. “What I really want to know is: where are the Dark One powers, and why are you still alive if they’re not here?” He pointed angrily at Gold.

(Emma couldn’t take it any more, and moved to Killian’s side; he’d been visibly withdrawing into himself after what he’d just learned, and the coming conversation was likely to stir some unpleasant memories, too.)

“They’re gone,” Gold said simply, oddly calm when he could have been vague and dramatic. “Something along the lines of divine intervention, I suppose; I traded them to Hades to resolve a debt, and was left a mortal man, same as I was before I took them on.”

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Dorian screamed, grabbing the bars in frustration and shaking them. “Must have been bloody fucking important.”

“I’d say the well-being of my wife and son were worth it.” Emma had only caught the details after the fact—she’d been just a little preoccupied with saving her True Love while they were in the Underworld—but apparently some ancient agreement Gold made regarding his potential second-born child was transferred over to Hades so that asshole god could leverage it into his own deal with the devil. No one thought Gold would actually give up the powers he’d fought so long to hold onto (it was [half] the reason they’d even had to go down there at all, after what he pulled with Killian’s attempted sacrifice), but he’d finally realized he did love Belle (and now Gideon) more than the magic, and made the trade easily.

“So I’ll find Hades, then,” Dorian concluded. “Anyone know how to kill a god?”

“Um, so,” Emma started, “That’s been done already.”

She expected Dorian to lash out again, but his reaction was almost worse—she could see the fire of anger in his eyes and the irritated clench of his jaw. “So my life has been a waste? Is that what you’re all saying?”

“Some things are more important than power and vengeance, mate.” It was almost jarring hearing Killian’s soft voice in contrast to Dorian’s harsh tones. Emma looked up, and he was holding his apparent brother’s gaze steadily. Without breaking it, he reached for Emma’s hand, underlining his statement.

Dorian stared back for a long moment, then turned his attention away, to where Rumple and Belle were in a similar pose. (If she wasn’t mistaken, something wistful settled in his gaze at that.) And then hung his head and slumped back on the cot, effectively ending the conversation. There was still a lot more to be discussed, but not right now; they all needed to process what they’d just learned, especially Killian.

Gold and Belle were the first to leave quietly, then David, after setting the station phone to forward to his.

Emma squeezed Killian’s hand; it looked like his mind had wandered off again, but that brought him back, and she wordlessly led him out of the building.

She let go of his hand long enough to lock the door behind them (and maybe throw up a protection spell to keep their visitor inside, just to be safe), but then took it again and started the familiar walk to the docks.

The conversation ahead was definitely going to require the sea—and probably a decent amount of rum.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian felt like he was walking in a dream, but he didn’t know if it was a good or bad one. Ever since Gold had delivered the news, it was like the world around him had blurred in haze.

A brother. He had another brother he’d never known about. And a twin at that.

One who was apparently an utter arse, but he wasn’t as surprised by that fact.

Killian had many questions—why did his (their) parents give him up? Had Liam known?—but anyone who could answer those was long dead. Which would make coming to terms with it entirely up to him.

He and Emma had talked about it, obviously, perched by the sea with his flask between them. Perhaps not terribly in-depth, but he wasn’t sure there was anything more he could say yet.

What was occupying his thoughts the most, though—it could have been him. They very easily could have been in the other’s position. He could have been the one raised by a demon, letting darkness harden his heart, committing gods-only-knew what kind of atrocities—

—But then, he had, hadn’t he? Perhaps he hadn’t wandered all the way down the path his brother had, but he’d gone far enough; just not so far that he couldn’t come back.

And what if his brother had stayed with his family? Would he have led a better life, or made the same choices Killian had? Better yet, what if they’d grown up together? How would that have changed things?

Or would Killian have ruined his life, too, the way he’d done for the younger Liam?

The what-ifs were playing on a loop in his head, spinning like an endless scratched record. (Yes, he knew what a vinyl was; Henry had gifted him a turntable and some albums a few months before leaving the realm. He was sorely tempted to wallow with some Simon & Garfunkel later.) Which was probably why Emma had told him to take a walk, with a specific destination in mind.

It wasn’t a long journey to his in-laws’ farmhouse, but long enough to clear that fog he was wading through a bit. Dusk was settling over Storybrooke as he reached the gravel driveway leading up to the Nolans’ home, where David was already waiting outside.

“I take it Emma called?” he greeted, not needing anything more formal.

“Yeah,” David answered, and handed him an open beer bottle once he was close enough. “And I figured you’d come by at some point anyway.”

“I do believe you’re one of the few people that’s been in my position here.”

“Yup. C’mon; let’s take this out back.”

It certainly wasn’t the first evening they’d spent in the rocking chairs on David’s back porch, drinks in hand, but was easily bound to be one of the more serious. But it still took him until the bottle was half gone to say anything.

“How did you react when you found out about your brother?” he finally asked quietly. It was an obvious question, but he figured it was the logical place to start.

“Forgive me if this sounds rehearsed, but I’ve been mulling over the answer to that pretty much since we left the station,” David started. “It was a lot at first. Mainly, I was shocked that my parents would do that—even was angry with my mother for a bit. But desperate people do desperate things, and that much I can understand.”

“Aye,” he agreed knowingly; that was definitely the prevailing undercurrent in most of their stories.

“And then I started wondering what things would have been like if we’d been raised together, especially when I found out what kind of man James was. Definitely had some nature-versus-nurture discussions with myself—like, how much of him being an asshole was the fact that he was raised by one?”

“Did meeting him help?” He’d only interacted briefly with James in the Underworld, but it was odd seeing a man who looked like his friend but was far from honorable.

David shrugged. “I dunno. It’s not like we had any time for a real heart-to-heart when he was trying to steal my place. It just reinforced how different we ended up being.”

Killian scoffed. “Wish I could say the same here.”

“What do you mean?”

He gave his father-in-law a sidelong glance. “David, please—you know the things I’ve done. I murdered your father, for fuck’s sake. I’ve been trying to look at the differences, but I can’t overlook our similarities. What does it mean that we both found our way into darkness?”

David sighed; bringing up his history in relation to David’s father was still a bit of a sore spot, even though they’d generally moved past it. “Yeah, you’ve done some shitty stuff, and we can assume he has, too,” David agreed. “But you turned it around and came back, and made an effort to right your wrongs. I’m not sure how many times we can remind you of that, man,” he chuckled. Killian gave a half-smile back; it was true that he’d heard it a million times, and gotten better about accepting that in himself, but it was a constant struggle. “So maybe this is the chance to take it a step further: show him that he can be a good man, too.”

“I’m not so sure he wants to,” Killian panned.

“I seem to recall someone else that once applied to,” David countered, then rubbed his temple. “Someone who knocked me out with a crowbar.”

They shared a laugh at what felt like an ancient memory and clinked their bottles together, then settled into a contemplative silence. David wasn’t wrong, but it certainly hadn’t been easy—and he’d needed a reason to want to change. At first, it’d been for Bae’s memory; then, inspired by Emma (and the rest of his found family, in some shape or form). Had it not been for them, he would have followed his path of revenge until it killed him.

So there was nothing to lose, he supposed, to figure out what made Dorian tick and see if there was any connecting with him.

However—he had no idea what might happen if he came up empty.

There was nothing more he could do about it tonight, though, but he and David did spend plenty of time discussing his earlier train of thought, debating the possibilities of lives not lived.

He felt a bit better when he left, and observing the constellations overhead as he walked home was soothing, like always. The day’s revelations still weighed heavy on his soul, but not quite as much.

Sleep would help, he knew, and was glad to see the bedroom light was still on when he arrived at the front gate of his and Emma’s home. She was probably already asleep, and he was looking forward to setting whatever book she’d been reading aside, turning out the light, and tucking in alongside her. He smiled to himself at the prospect as he headed through the front gate and up the porch.

But when he reached for the doorknob, he felt a prick of electricity sparking from his hand up his arm. He’d had plenty of static shocks, especially living in a home as old as theirs, but this was different—stronger.

He pulled back and looked at his palm, and for a moment, thought he saw his veins lit up from within and the air crackling above it. But it went away as fast as it’d come.

He shook his head. It had been a long, emotional day; he must need rest more than he realized. Without further interruption, he opened the front door, locked it behind him, and called it a day.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Across town, Dorian sat bolt upright. He hadn’t been asleep, but was jolted to a higher level of alertness nonetheless.

He felt it—the Dark One’s magic. Just a glint, but it was there.

He’d spent the bulk of the day lamenting his wasted years, but perhaps his quest wasn’t over yet.

His hope renewed, he laid back down and began plotting his next move.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

A couple centuries ago

Decades ago, in a little cottage by the seaside, in the shadow of the Cailleach Mountains, two babies wailed. They were identical in every way, from the dark tufts of hair on their heads, to their bright blue eyes, to the way they cried in pain as fever wracked their little bodies.

Their father wasn’t home; he said he’d gone to see the apothecary, but that was hours ago, and their mum knew he was far more likely to be seeking a different kind of brew at the pub down the street.

They were only a few months old, but her breasts had already dried up and given her no way of soothing her babes with mother’s milk—not that the goat’s milk had really done anything in that regard, either.

At least her older son had already fought off this illness, and slumbered deeply in the wee trundle on the other side of their one-room cottage. She envied him a bit, wearily rocking the two listless babes in the chair by the fire.

It felt somewhat blasphemous, but as much as she was thankful the gods had seen fit to double her blessings with two more sons, she wondered if they’d bestowed their gift on the wrong person. She was barely holding it together now, and unless her husband pulled his act together, she didn’t know how they’d be able to continue; she barely had enough to eat for herself as it was.

“Please, boys,” she pleaded to the little ones, one in each arm. “Please hush. I love you so much but I’m at my wits’ end. Please.”

Gods above, she was truly desperate if she was trying to rationalize with infants. That said—she was more resourceful than most, but was losing hope in her ability to see her family through this and into anything resembling a stable future.

As she sat on the precipice of breakdown, her nerves as frazzled as her wild red hair, a chill breeze came through the house, making the fire flicker and dim. This bloody drafty old home, she cursed at it; of course it would happen when there was nought but twigs in the woodpile. So she pulled the babies closer.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

She jumped at the voice, not just because it clearly belonged to an intruder, but because of the hint of malice on the edge of the words, innocuous as they were. “Who’s there?” she called, sounding far braver than she felt.

“Sorry, ma’am—I didn’t mean to startle you,” the owner of the voice continued, stepping out of the shadows of the kitchen. She couldn’t see his face as it was covered by a thick, dark cloak. “You just seemed awfully desperate there, and I wondered if I could help.”

“Who are you?” She ignored the fact that he seemed to be aware of her mental state, and tried to hold her boys impossibly tighter. “What do you want?”

“I just want to ease your burden.” His words were altruistic but she knew better than to trust them at face value. “Twins; that’s a lot for a woman to handle on her own.”

“I have a husband.”

“Oh, I know. But I also know he’s currently passed out in a gutter. Not much assistance, is he?”

She had no confident answer to that.

The man drew closer. “Such handsome boys; it’s too bad they’re so ill. And medicine is so expensive when they’re that young.”

“Aye, what of it?” she spat.

“Well, I just so happen to have some of it here,” he explained, pulling a corked vial from within his voluminous velvet robes. The hand that held it seemed to glitter unnaturally in the dim firelight, almost like it was covered in scales.

“What do you want for it?” she asked, against her better judgment.

“Ah, I’m afraid the price is steep.”

It wouldn’t be the first time a woman made payment in favors, if that was what he was implying. “I’ll do anything,” she replied submissively.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” the man sneered. “See, I only have one dose here with me. I do have more, so this one is all yours…if you trade it for one of your boys.”

“What?” she gasped. What an unfathomable choice! She couldn’t give up one of her babes—not in a thousand years. “Never.”

“Now, now—think about it,” the man went on. “You’d have one less mouth to feed, one less body to clothe, one less boy to worry about.”

His points were valid, but that didn’t mean they were any less abhorrent. “I won’t do it.”

“Then let me be a bit more blunt: you can have one boy, happy and healthy, or you can bury both of them when that fever claims them.”

“What do you even want with a baby?” she spat, clearly deflecting. Because that statement was definitely convincing, as much as she didn’t want it to be.

“Is a man not allowed to feel paternal stirrings as much as a woman?” he countered. “I’m looking for an apprentice, but few people are often willing to turn their sons over to the Dark One.”

Ah, that explained it; she’d heard of a sorcerer by that name, but nothing good about them. “And you really think I will?”

“I do,” he said confidently. “Because you’re more desperate than anyone else, and you have fewer options.”

She hated that he wasn’t wrong.

“If you take my deal, you still have two healthy sons,” he continued. “Or take a gamble and leave it. It’s up to you.”

He fell silent and unnaturally still, which only seemed to make the infants’ cries all the louder and more pitiful. It was a logical deal he was offering her, but not a sound one emotionally. How could she abandon one of her children? What kind of person did that?

But at the same time, how could she risk letting her children die when she had the opportunity to save them? Even if it meant giving up one of them?

“If…if I take this deal—and I’m not saying I will,” she started, “can you promise me you’ll heal whichever boy you take?”

“Of course,” the Dark One said. “He’s of no use to me dead.”

“Will he have a good life?”

“Yes,” he said solemnly. “He’ll want for nothing, and will be comfortable and educated.”

That was more than she could say for her elder boy.

She blinked, her vision suddenly going blurry with tears. “Alright,” she agreed, though her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Is that a yes?”

“Aye.” She couldn’t look at him as she said it.

“Now wasn’t that easy?”

At that, she did find the gumption to glare at him.

“Here, I’ll make it even simpler; hand me…that one,” he went on, pointing at the boy in her right arm.

“No,” she said quickly. “The other one.”

“If you insist,” he shrugged.

Holding back her tears as best as she was able, she stood and gently set the babe in her left arm down in his cradle. Then she brought the other boy to her chest and placed a kiss against his forehead, praying it would be enough for him to feel her love as he grew, hopefully strong and smart and caring. “I love you, my boy,” she murmured. “Always know that.”

She was losing her fight against her emotions as she handed the baby over to the Dark One, even though she knew this was the best option for everyone; she dare said he’d have a better life than he would here. And she was heartened by the gentle way the sorcerer cradled the boy.

He wasted no time in handing over the vial of medicine. “Thank you,” she managed to say politely.

“No, thank you, my dear.” He seemed unphased by the baby’s continued cries. “And best wishes for your future.”

All she could do was nod.

He turned to leave—though how he planned on going through the locked door, she didn’t know—but then stopped. “Oh, silly me—I forgot to ask his name!”

“Dorian,” she said softly. He’d been named after her husband’s father, for better or for worse.

“Dorian,” he repeated, looking down at the squirming bundle in his arms. “I like that. Well, take care.” And then he disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke.

The fog had hardly cleared before she collapsed on her knees, giving herself a minute to let the grief wash over her before moving on. Not that it was that simple, of course, but what choice did she have anymore? And it’d be easy enough to say the babe had passed; this illness had already claimed others and likely would more.

She just had to hope Brennan would believe her. At least Liam was small enough to not remember.

After a bit, her tears had mostly run their course. She dried her cheeks with her apron, sniffled, and then hurried over to the cradle to deliver the medicine to her baby boy.

He was still crying fiercely and fought her attempts to pour the liquid in his mouth, but she was finally able to once she scooped him back up in her arms. He screamed even harder at first—she doubted it tasted very good—but then settled down, and she could feel the fever subside. For the first time in a few days, he fell into a much-needed, even slumber, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

She laid him against her chest and leaned back in the rocking chair. “Sleep tight, sweet Killian,” Alice murmured and kissed the top of his head. She’d read his name in a book as a child, the name of the hero, and held onto it until she was able to give it to a son of her own. “I promise to stay with you as long as I can, and love and protect you with all my heart.”

One thing was certain—she’d be holding him extra close. And sent up a prayer that she hadn’t just doomed her other son.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke @bluewildcatfanatic

#cs ff #killian jones ff #cssns 2023 #captain swan supernatural summer #sons of love and death #my ff

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chiefdirector · 6 months

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Soulmates | Tony Dinozzo | NCIS

No.27: Immortal Whumpee

Soulmates were something neither scientist nor sceptic could explain.

The concept and implications that two souls were bound to each other were grand topics that nearly everyone wanted to explore and yet could not make headway to exposing the truth behind it.

Most would say that it is science, and that there must be a reason that you had another half. Some would quote old Greek mythologies. Others would say that it was magic. Tony sided with those who didn’t give a crap.

When he met (Y/N), and everything in his life seemed to click into place, Tony realised it didn’t matter how or why he was fated to her, if only mattered that he was. He was forever grateful to the mark on his wrist, the only that signified their unbreakable bond.

Although, if he truly gave it thought, he would dismiss the idea of anything otherworldly. He had seen enough horrors working at NCIS. If magic existed, he would have seen the repercussions dead in Ducky’s morgue.

And yet when the deranged women sat in interrogation mutter under her breath about how she had changed the fates, going on and on about how Tony was cursed to a hundred lifetimes alone, Tony felt a chill go down his spine. He rushed out of the observation room and into the bullpen where he saw (Y/N) writing a report at her desk. She was here; she was alive. Tony felt himself let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Quickly, he moved over to her desk and leaned on top of it. "You okay?"

"Yeah," She hummed, before looking up. She recoiled slightly, shocked to see Tony so disheveled and panting. "Are you? You look a little... out of it."

"As long as you're fine, I'm fine."

Tony smiled at her, watching as she drew her attention back to her work. That old woman was crazy, (Y/N) was fine, she was okay; she was alive and that was enough.

-----

Tony's peace of mind only lasted a few more days. Another case had landed in their laps. The MCRT had been called out to assist the FBI and Homeland in the capture of a terrorist cell who had set up base in a local Navy port.

There was five suspects within the cell, three had already been arrested, leaving only two for the capture. Tony was confident everything would be fine, they had three agencies and nearly 50 trained personal out for the two suspects. The teams had been split up to cover more ground, McGee and (Y/N) had gone left while Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs had gone right.

Tony heard the gunshots before the the pain set into his wrist, right where his soulmark sat. He couldn't feel anything else except that burning pressure as he ran throughout the port towards the sound of bullets being fired. He could faintly hear Gibbs and Ziva following him, yelling him to retreat, but he didn't want to listen, he couldn't. He had to find (Y/N).

The port seemed ever winding, but not once did Tony slow down. He weaved throughout different storage containers and frantic agents until he found a clearing near the water. There, slumped against a wooden storage container, lay (Y/N). If it weren't from the wound leaking blood down her chest, he would have thought her asleep. Her face gave no indication of pain or suffering. It was a quick death.

Tony moved to her side, pulling her still warm body into his. He shook her, even though he knew that she was already gone. He begged her to wake up, to come back to him. He prayed, begged, and bartered. But neither man nor God could save her now.

----

The funeral of Agent (Y/N) (L/N) was a beautiful affair. Agents and colleagues she had worked with as well as families she had helped through her work joined her friends and family in giving her the proper memoriam that she deserved. Tony couldn't remember much of the proceedings, too numb to even comprehend what had happened let alone anything else.

Time seemed to pass slower after her death, it took months for the reality to set in, and a few more years on top of that to accept that she wasn't coming back. It was only as Tony looked at her portrait hung amongst others of their fallen colleagues at NCIS did he think back to that woman he met in integration and her mutterings of his future.

Tony took a step back, looking in the glass of the frame so that he could see himself. His eyes did not wrinkle as McGee's had begun to and his hair held the same vibrant colour that it had always done. It was only then did Tony fully accept that his torture had only begun and that he would suffer until the far off day that he would die.

Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist

@ailesswhumptober @callsign-ember @happygirl-0408

#tony dinozzo imagine #tony dinozzo x reader #ncis x reader #ailesswhumptober2023 #ncis imagine #chiefdirector

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torreshalstead · 11 months

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The Reminder

Summary - It sat there as a painful reminder, but one that Matt had begun to relish. He needed the reminder, needed to be reminded that there was something, someone, worth fighting for. It got packed in his bag every time he flew back to his home city, sitting insider at the bottom of his case. But maybe, just maybe, this time would give him the chance to actually use it and ask that long awaited question.

Notes - this turned out a little more angsty than I planned but it’s just where Casey’s mind went! Hope you enjoy anyway! AO3 Link

It was a visceral reminder every time he opened that drawer, a reminder that he had let her slip through his fingers. They had been so close to having everything they had ever dreamed of and then suddenly they couldn’t be any further from that point. He could put it away somewhere more hidden, he could return it, sell it, hell he could throw it into the ocean but instead he leaves it there. Almost welcomes the pain and the reminder every time he sees it, the reminder that he wasn’t strong enough to fight for her. And if he wasn’t strong enough then maybe he deserves the pain of seeing it every day.

He bought it just after her first visit to Portland when everything had seemed fine, better than fine, it was wonderful. They were a family and it was magical. It had taken them a long time, numerous obstacles, to get to where they were but he wouldn’t have changed any of it. Everything had been worth it when she admitted she was in love with him and he took her in his arms and promised himself he was never going to let her go.

Some promises however don’t get kept.

It was the logical next step - the ring on her finger, it was the future he wanted, it was the future they both deserved. But now it sat there gathering dust among his socks. The beautiful resting within the mundane. A heartbreaking reminder of how even the most perfect of things can fall apart.

He thought on her next visit he would actually do it, finally get it out of the drawer, drop down on one knee and ask her. Watch as she nodded and said yes, the tears streaming down her face as he slipped the ring onto her delicate finger. He knew she’d say yes, he knew she’d cry when she did. It was his Sylvie after all, she felt everything so deeply. It was one of the many reasons he loved her.

But then the next visit came and went and the ring stayed exactly where it was. There was something in the air the whole visit, hanging there unsaid between them. It didn’t seem right, it didn’t seem like the time. So he didn’t do it. He let her say goodbye at the airport, hugged her tightly, kissed her sweetly and watched her walk away, her left hand still empty.

He spent longer than he cared to admit staring at that little velvet box. But instead of it once holding all of the hope of their future, it now felt heavy. The joy it once brought him, images of her crying when he asked her, he now saw a difference in her tears. They were no longer tears of joy, they were full of pain, full of hurt.

When he visited Chicago, he brought it with him, tucked tightly in his case as he boarded the plane. It was burning a hole in his pocket during the wedding. Watching his best friend marry the love of his life, knowing that option for him was slipping further and further away even as he grasped her hand tightly. It felt like he was carrying a grenade, it was about to go off and could blow up their lives.

And then she ended it.

And he let her.

He felt like he’d been holding her back, keeping her from living her life, her best life in Chicago. A life without him. So he didn’t fight, he didn’t argue. He let his heart shatter into a million pieces and didn’t do anything to stop it.

And yet still, he couldn’t be parted from the ring. It still sat in the drawer and he saw it every day. He promised himself, and her, that if he ever got a chance again, no matter how slim that possibility was, that he would ask her.

He continued to see it every day for months. Almost relished the pain when he opened the drawer and that tiny box glared back at him. A mark of his failure. He had failed to keep the love of his life in his life. He had let her walk away and take a piece of his heart with her. He deserved to feel like this.

When he was called back to Chicago again, the task force assignment needing him in the city, it felt like maybe this was the second chance he had been wishing for. That fate was finally shining down on him. Maybe things were falling right back into place. His time in Portland was drawing to a close, both boys were set with their plans for the immediate future, so he could return home soon. Return to the city he loved. To the woman he loved. To the life he still dreamt about every night when he closed his eyes and sleep overwhelmed him.

He decided to take the ring again, packed it safely into his case and promised himself that if the time came, if the opportunity presented itself that he was going to do it. He was going to ask her. They had already wasted so much time, he wasn’t about to let another second slip through their fingers.

But then Sylvie told him about Dylan and it was like he had lost her all over again. It was the Chaplain, it was Grainger, it was history repeating itself. The woman he loved, that he wanted by his side for the rest of his life, wasn’t his to love anymore. It caught him off guard, though in reality it shouldn’t. Why wouldn’t she move on, he had moved away, he had left her, she had every right to see someone else. But that reality did nothing to help the walls that were crashing down around him. The images that he had seen of her saying yes, of her in the white dress, agreeing to spend the rest of their lives together. Those images burnt like kindling in his mind. The ashes all he had left.

So he lied. Told her he was seeing someone else as well, that he was happy for her, and the ring stayed at the bottom of his case. Untouched and unused. Destined to haunt him forever.

When he returned to Chicago again, it was a habit to put it into the case but he never expected to actually get a chance to use it. When she told him she was adopting a baby girl, it was like his heart awoke. He always knew Sylvie was going to be the most amazing mother; she was incredible with Amelia, and had even formed such a great bond with Griffin and Ben in the short period she had been in their lives. And Matt would be lying if when she said she was doing it alone, he didn’t feel something deep inside his chest.

Finding out that she and Dylan had broken up, he attempted to hide his emotions, shielding his mouth once Violet had said the words but he knew it was written clear as day across his face. He’d never been good at hiding his feelings, especially when it came to Sylvie.

When the news broke that she was getting Julia, he felt every emotion possible concurrently. He was so overwhelmingly happy for her, her own joy evident in the tears that spilled down her cheeks. He wanted to be alongside her, wanted them to have the family they had always dreamed of together. The wedding, the 3 kids, all of it. Watching her cry with joy, it took everything he had not to let his own emotions burst forward and pull her into his arms right there in front of everyone. But he knew what had to happen next. It was the thing he had spent hours of his life contemplating but something he had come to the conclusion was now impossible. And yet here he was. Here they were.

It was now or never.

He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t know what he was going to say or how he was going to do it, but he grabbed the ring from the bottom of his bag and headed over to her apartment. His fingers drumming nervously on the wheel as he took the familiar streets to her home, autopilot firmly engaged. His mind was spiralling but at the same time was completely empty save for her. The images had returned, the ones of their future together and he couldn’t help but smile. The ring no longer felt like a dead weight in his pocket, wasn’t something to bring him down. It was a chance, it was a possibility.

He prayed to everything he knew that when he finally opened that box, showed it to her and asked her the question he had been longing to ask for so long, that she would say yes.

When he saw her eyes fill with tears, her smile stretched wide and her head nodding in agreement, he knew it had all been worth it. He pulled her into his arms, spun her around and buried his head in her neck. At that moment he made himself a new promise. A promise that no matter how hard things got, how many obstacles got thrown in their path, that he would fight for her. He would fight for them. As he slid the ring onto her finger, her hand shaking and her tears still flowing, his eyes never left hers.

‘I love you,’ he said. ‘And I always will’. And that was a promise he knew he could keep. He no longer needed the reminder, he had her.

#brettsey #Chicago fire #Sylvie Brett #Matt Casey #brettsey fanfiction #chicago fire fanfic #brettsey fanfic #chicago fire fanfiction #brettsey fic #chicago fire fic #one Chicago

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smalls-words · 2 years

Text

Lost And Found

Summary: Disneyland can be a magical land for some people. Maybe it’s not just for you.

Pairings: CG!Wanda x Little!AFAB!Stark!Reader

Requested: yes/NO

Warnings: Epic rides, Disney princesses, parades, crowds, blood (light), assumption of pronouns by assholes, kind Disneyland people who don’t do that, tired babies.

Words: Doesn’t matter, this is for my little ones

A/N - SO! This is my first little!reader fic. I have a precious little of my own whilst I have some little friends, and whilst I am my little’s cg, I do have that mindset and care for all littles that I have the pleasure of meeting. So please, do not ever be mean to a little, there are reasons behind their regression. This is a safe place, and any rudeness will not be tolerated. Rude to my/any littles = instant block. I WILL NOT have that here.

Anyway... have fun reading!

*not my gifs*

Today was gonna be a great day. You weren’t going to slip, you were going to have fun with your girlfriend at Disneyland and you were going to buy her so many things that you knew you would break your father’s bank.

You hopped in the car with her early that morning and arrived earlier than everyone else, making you grin as you went straight to your favourite rides. You had both made sure to wear a pair of swimmers underneath as you went on Splash Mountain, getting positively soaked but it only made you admire Wanda’s features more.

“Ooh, babe, look over there!” Wanda exclaimed as she tied her hair up into a messy bun, the loose wet strands framing her face in a light you’d never seen before.

You followed her pointing finger and spotted what had excited her - a pirate show that was just about to start. She pulled you over and you hid within the crowd, keeping your bags between your legs so that your shoulders could have a rest whilst your stuff couldn’t be stolen.

Immediately, you felt it starting. You liked pirates a lot, which didn’t help your goal of the day. Instead, you eyed a candy floss machine and pulled her over there, even though the pirate show wasn’t finished yet.

“But Y/N!” Wanda whined.

“We can still watch from here, silly.” You snickered, far enough away that it wasn’t going to trigger you whilst Wanda could still watch.

After the candy floss, you went on more rides before heading to the food court. You tried out some Mickey Mouse-styled burgers, some Star Wars drinks and best of all, some churros with Mickey Mouse’s head cooked through!

You went on a few more rides, including the Teacups, It’s a Small World and Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters. Soon enough, the parade was being announced and you managed to get your way to the front-middle, where you could see the parade but couldn’t sit.

You wrapped your arms around Wanda and tucked your head on her shoulder, smiling as she kissed your cheek. “How has your day been, my love?”

“Amazing. Just… Everything I wanted and more.” She sighed happily, kissing you once more.

You stuck around until half-way through before Wanda felt the urgent need to go to the bathroom. You gave Wanda a quick kiss before she went, leaving you to watch the end and smile at the Disney princesses. The actors all looked wonderful and some even recognised you, bowing their heads as you bowed yours playfully.

By the end, everyone was scrambling to get back to the rides that you got thrown around quite a bit, leaving you in a haze. You tripped over your bag and luckily caught yourself, but all of your belongings were splayed out that you hurriedly placed back in.

More and more people’s legs were getting close to your face and you felt like you were getting smaller and smaller. You grabbed yours and Wanda’s bags and held them tight, feeling your mind finally slip over the edge.

*Mama.* You thought, over and over again, hoping that she could hear you.

*Y/N.* Wanda sprinted out of the bathroom at the thought, gasping at the huge crowd you were no doubt being swamped in.

*Y/N/N, my sweet baby, make yourself known. Please.*

She searched the crowd, tears pricking her eyes until she saw a crowd forming by a bench. She sped over, listening to their questions.

“Why are you crying, young lady?”

“Have you lost your phone? Maybe that’s why.”

Wanda pushed through the crowd but it kept getting denser, your sniffle and whimpers echoing inside of her mind.

“Out of my way!” She growled, the crowd clearing before she knelt down in front of you.

“Oh, my little one. I’m sorry, Mama’s so so sorry.” She cooed, tucking you into her.

“Mama never should have left her baby alone. Mama was dumb, Mama should have seen you struggling.”

“Who the hell are you? You’re not her mom.” A scoff came from behind Wanda and she rolled her eyes.

You had already dealt with this enough when you were younger. Disneyland was supposed to be a place of inclusivity, of happiness and joy, something of which she knew you weren’t feeling right now.

“Can everybody just back off? They evidently need some air.” A passerby interrupted, pushing themselves into the crowd to make them move along.

“Are you two alright?” The man asked, kneeling down in front of you.

“I… I small.” You murmured, but got confused when he smiled.

“You’re a little? And I’m guessing you’re their caregiver?” He looked at Wanda.

“Yes. I’m Wanda.”

“I’m Jason. Are you not having the best day, little one?” He asked you and you nodded.

“Just… lots of people. Scary. Fell.” You showed him your hands, which were scraped and bleeding slightly.

Jason gasped. “Come with me, I’ll get you to a medical tent.”

You and Wanda eagerly followed him whilst a conversation went between the two of you.

*Y/N/N, I can just fix your hands, baby cakes.*

*No, no powers in Disneyland. You p’omised.*

She sighed and nodded whilst kissing your temple as you arrived in the medical tent. You showed your hands to the attendee, who was delighted to help you, and she put some band-aids on after cleaning and applying some creams.

“There you go! You should be all set!”

“Oh, hold on a second, Margorie.” Jason held up a finger and beckoned you two to come to the end.

“This is a special pass in Disneyland. If you show this to any Disneyland worker, they will take you to a quiet spot or wherever you’d like to go by golf cart and you can do whatever you’d like.” He slipped the lanyard over your head and you beamed, looking at the special pass with complete adoration.

“I hope you two have a nice rest of your day.” Jason looked at Wanda, who kissed your cheek and nodded.

“Thank you so much for this, Jason. It really means a lot.”

He nodded and you two left, wandering through the park with your hands clasped together before you noticed the pirate show was starting again.

“Mama! Pirates, p’ease?!” You asked eagerly, making Wanda chuckle.

“Of course, little love. Let’s go say hi to the pirates again.”

You went over and watched the whole show until you felt your eyes starting to feel heavy. It was late in the afternoon now, and you wanted to get to the merchandise shops before they closed.

“Mama, home time?” You murmured, yawning.

“Let’s go home.” She agreed, leading you through the park towards the exit until you stopped dead in your tracks and pointed at a merchandise store.

You dragged her in, making her laugh along the way, and you scanned the shelves for anything and everything. You picked out two new stuffies, one for you and one for Wanda, whilst you also got some special Scarlet Witch ears and some very big sleepy shirts. Wanda picked out some things for herself, but when you saw how much her stuff summed up to, you frowned.

“More, Mama.” You mumbled, pointing at some of the shelves.

“Darling, if I wanted more, I’d get more.” She chuckled, but you saw the real reason behind her eyes.

You dug around for your phone and opened it, showing your dad’s credit card ready to pay for it. She sighed, knowing you wouldn’t budge, and grabbed some more things. Once she was done, you paid and giggled as you held the giant Stitch in your arms, walking all the way to the car before you held him in your lap.

“Mama, can Stitchy sleep wif me?” You asked, sucking on your thumb whilst Wanda kicked the car into gear.

“Of course he can!” She smiled happily, holding your hand whilst the automatic car merged with traffic.

About halfway home, your fatigue from earlier had started to settle in again, making your eyelids droopy. “Mama, I tireds.”

“Have a nap, my little dove, you more than deserve it.”

“But I no want sleeps.” You argued, even through a yawn.

Wanda smirked at you briefly before focusing on the road. “How about this? If you go to sleep, I will let you have double ice cream tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened at the offer, thinking about it carefully before you nodded. “Deal, Mama. I sleeps, but…”

Luckily you came to a red light and Wanda looked over at your hesitant features. “You can ask me anything, my tiny angel. I promise.”

“Can… Can you makes my sleeps nice?” You asked hesitantly and she beamed at you.

“If that is what you wish, then that is what shall be.”

Her hand cradled your cheek softly before a wisp of red clouded your vision, seeping into your skin as warmth you only felt in the arms of your Mama consumed you. It felt like you were actually in bed, being held tightly against Wanda whilst you listened to her heartbeat.

Eventually, your eyes didn’t reopen, and Wanda’s wisps drifted from your head to your hands, peeling away the band-aids to heal your scrapes.

*No pain for my baby.* She muttered within her mind, the skin healing over whilst the band-aids disappeared.

“FRIDAY, can you take the wheel?”

“Of course, Ms Maximoff.” The AI responded before Wanda’s magic lifted you and herself into the backseat, where she moved to hold you close and run her fingers through your hair.

She knew she’d be extra Mama-like tomorrow, given that she almost lost you today, but she knew you wouldn’t mind. If anything, you loved having your Mama holding you, keeping you safe within her arms whilst your happy little mind wandered wherever it wanted to go.

#smalls-words #WandaMaximoff #wandamaximoffimagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff hurt/comfort #little!reader #sfw little community #age regression #agere community #do not be mean #I like the block button #I will write more little!reader if that is what people would like :)

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kelp-my-beloved · 2 years

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In spite of the what his actions might lead you to believe, fWhip is not an idiot.

Or maybe he is, but a different kind. The point is, he is not the kind of idiot that was surprised by how things turned out, and he cant say he didn’t see it coming for months. What he is guilty of is forcing himself to believe he had been wrong while things started to hit the fan, and hurting as if he couldn’t have done anything to prepare himself for the inevitable blow.

Truth be told, any piece of slime with at least an eye and half an ear could have told you his sister was going to run away from the Grimmlands. You could see it in her eyes whenever their father reminded her of her duty to her birthplace.

fWhip had seen it in the way she looked at him every time magic was mentioned the year before she left, like she felt guilty for something she hadnt even done yet. Which was funny, because it would mean that Gem only had ninety-nine years left of the hundred the recently crowned Count had told her she needed to ask for forgiveness before the possibility even crossed his mind.

She had looked hurt when he told her that. The memory makes fWhip chuckle as he serves himself another drink. Hes too used to that face to feel anything.

So yeah, fWhip had seen it coming a chunk away.

Sometimes he thinks he knew it even before she did. Whenever she talked about the two of them staying together no matter what, of their future twingled to the other. She hadnt looked like she had been lying, nor did she had that bittersweet expression that fWhip always had to hide when they talked about dreams that were too good to become true. When the pretending was shattered by a random thought that reminded him that it was just that, pretending.

Pretending that he had ever believed it could become real.

He remembers the exact moment he realized it was a lie. There had been a wizard, a trial, and a party to celebrate his exile. His sister had kept to herself, like always, and like always fWhip had followed suit. He had made a stupid comment he cant recall exactly, but he knows it was something against the man and his magic, about how dumb he had been to loose everything he had for a few dumb cristals.

It couldn’t have been more than a second or two of silence, but within those, fWhip felt like somebody had thrown a bucket of ice on top of him. He understood then that his sister did not agree with him, that there was something on her similar to what had made the wizard risk it all for a few party tricks. That the cristal she kept hidden under her matress wasn’t a phase, but the things that would break whatever promises they had made one another to stay together through it all.

Okey. So maybe it hadnt been such a clear-cut moment, and maybe it had more to do with fWhip’s paranoia than it ever had about destiny and a mysterious twin bond, but in the end he had been right, so it had to count for something.

It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, and it’s not about his abandonement issues if his sister did end up leaving him.

And now she’s back, with her fancy stick and stupid hat trying to get back in his life.

But the thing that really pisses fWhip off is not that she dares to show her face after so long, because were other the circumstances he has no doubts that he would run to her too to hug her half way. No, it’s that the big reason why she’s back? The great thing that knocked some sense into her?

Magic.

Good for nothing, unreliable, dangerous magic.

Not their home needing her after the war, not their father’s funeral, and definitely not her brother’s crowning ceremony, the most important moment of his life.

No, it had been stupid magic, and her stupid, flashy Academy, where anybody from anywhere could come and learn! Doesn’t that sound promising? The only thing she needs to make it reality was the support, both political and economical of other empires, and she would feel honored to have the Grimlands and Mythland as her closest allies.

The first time fWhip saw her in years and it was in some meeting room with his friends and advisors as she tried to convince them to give her money.

She hadnt even bothered to let him know it would be her there. All the papers were signed as The Great Wizard, after all.

“I think that’s enough for now,” someone says next to him as they take the bottle from the Count’s hand.

fWhip looks up, surprised, though not so much. He had been drowning his sorrows in a public tavern, after all.

“What are you doing here?” he asks Sausage, and tries to ignore the way his words slur a bit.

His friend smiles in a way that he knows means he is not happy at all and fWhip would be receiving an earful as soon as he is sober enough to fully appreciate it. “I had a feeling I would find you here,” he answers, and counts a few coins from his pocket. “Come on, I’ll take you to your room”

The red-headed protest in the only way he feels he can, grabbing a handful of coins from somewhere and throwing them at the table. “I can pay for my own alcohol,” he sneers, doing his best to appear intimidating.

At least Sausage’s chuckle sounds more sincere than his smile. “Of course, silly me”

fWhip stares at Sausage for a few seconds, as if challenging him to say otherwise, before standing up and heading out. He doesn’t say goodbye, but he doubts anyone had expected him to do otherwise. That’s why he preferred taverns to councils.

His friend follows close behind, making polite comments and teasing jokes as he closes the door behind him, because of course he does.

The air is cold, and it makes his eyes hurt, and he cant help but think about that stupid wizard from years ago and how he had given it all up and how it was all his fault.

“What wizard?” Sausage asks on his side, and fWhip is only half surprised that he had been talking out loud.

“From years ago, before the war stopped” he makes a vague effort to explain as they walk. “He was found being a wizard back when magic was still illegal. He told me Gem was going to leave me before she knew it”

By Sausage’s expression he guesses he didn’t make a good job of that, but he doesn’t really care. All he can think about is how he shouldn’t have risked it all for some dumb rocks, and how if he had been more careful he would have never been so paranoid about his sister leaving him, and then it would have been a real surprise when she did. And maybe then he would have been able to forgive her when she came back and be a family again instead of hurting her and getting drunk in the lowest tavern he could find.

But she would have still left. She would have still abandoned him, and he doesn’t know if there’s anything he could have done differently that could have prevented that.

“I wish you were my brother instead of her,” he finds himself saying. fWhip has no idea where the thought came from, or where he was going with it, but the words are already out of his mouth before he can even think of stopping. “Or that you would have been me and Gem’s brother. Gem’s and I. You could have prevented her from leaving”. Gods knew he couldn’t.

It’s then than he realizes that Sausage is frozen in place a few steps back, lips pressed and expression unreadable. fWhip turns around, not understanding what was wrong, but Sausage speaks before he can ask.

“You’re drunk,” he says, like it’s some sort of grim mantra instead of something any rat in the street could tell you about his current state.

If fWhip were a bit more sober he would have probably prodded a bit more. Would have done the good friend thing and asked him whats wrong. But fWhip is definitely not sobber, and refuses abeemily to do anything right now that wasn’t drown in his own misery, so he keps walking when Sausage pushes him to.

So, I know I havent been very active here for a while, but I'm halfway through the first fic of a series of five (which i of course started from the end, the other four are already done), and I wanted post this part because i liked how it turned out.

Also, none of this has been through editing, its two am

#Im not dead! and the fics are going to get finished! I refuse to leave the fandom without doing so #but lifes been... happening #drunk fwhip my beloved #fwhip #mythicalsausage #empires smp #empiressmp #empires 1 #empires fic

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amanda-multifandom · 26 days

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Chapter Three sneak preview, "The Magic Within"

Tori was keeping her mind preoccupied by beating on a punching bag to give in to sleep, contrary to what Richie was doing. She had a hard time sleeping because she had been thinking about Duncan and the time he was under the influence of the Dark Quickening.

Richie wasn't faring any better. As a matter of fact, he was the one who was nearly beheaded by his own teacher. He felt betrayed and realized this was a part of the game. Tori managed to keep him together to some extent. He had taken heads of some immortals, but she had managed to cool him off when he was at his worst. There was no telling what could have happened if Tori was not there with him, trying her best to keep him at bay before he could do something he would truly regret.

One final swift kick knocked the bag off the chain, causing it to land on the floor. Tori panted as she looked down at it.

Suddenly, it turned into Ming. She screamed, throwing herself onto him and beating it roughly.

“Go ahead and kill me, but what good will it do for you?”

Tori paused and stepped back. Felicia uttered those words to her before she took her head, leading to her first Quickening.

She had Duncan and the whole situation on her mind, and remembered the conversation she and Richie had with Joe before they left Seacouver.

A Year Ago

“He was going to do it,” Richie told Joe, “he was going to take my head.”

“He probably would have done so had it not been for you,” Tori added, “and Mac probably would have taken my head too after that. He was ruthless.”

“You knew he couldn't help it,” Joe tried assuring them.

Tori took a deep breath, trying to believe it. If this was a Dark Quickening as the myth had it, chances were Duncan was corrupted.

On the other hand, Richie shook his head, “If you weren't there, I'd be dead.”

“But that wasn't Duncan MacLeod,” Joe insisted.

“You knew the hell it was it,” Richie interjected, “where is he now?”

“Yeah Joe,” Tori added, “where is MacLeod?”

“He's halfway to Europe,” Joe answered. She couldn't make out what he said to them before that, but that was all they needed, especially Richie.

“Look, Richie, Tori,” Joe glanced at his two immortal friends, “you guys might want to spend some time on holy ground. Sort all this out.”

“Seriously?” Tori slightly scoffed.

“Sort this out,” Richie rolled his eyes, “oh man, the guy I trusted.....”

“We trusted,” Tori added in.

“He tried to kill us,” Richie continued.

“Richie,” Joe began.

“No,” Richie interrupted, “the reason doesn't matter. It was him. It was Duncan MacLeod. You know what's funny? All this time, I've been thinking all this whole 'There can be only one' thing, I'm thinking that's just talk. I'm thinking there's no way MacLeod would ever come for me, or Tori. I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it.”

“A part of me felt the same way,” Tori nodded in agreement.

“Now,” Richie looked right at Joe, “now we do.”

He left the bar moments later. Tori had a plan in mind. She wasn't going to let Richie know just yet, or Joe for that matter.

She handed him a piece of paper.

“What's this?” Joe asked.

“My email,” Tori answered, “if Duncan MacLeod does happen to come around, let me know. Maybe then, hopefully, I can bring Richie around.”

“If there's anyone that can bring him around,” Joe smiled as he accepted the paper, “I'm pretty certain that would be you.”

#the magic within #tori gordon #richie ryan #joe dawson #highlander the series #defenders of the earth

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tadahoni · 2 years

Text

Reaching for Something

Request (responded to separately): Got super excited when I saw you opened requests again, so I wanted to make one! This is a RSASTD Merlin x Fem!reader request. On WattPad, I read your story “Something Wonderful” and it was really good! The canon ending really got me thinking though. At the end of the movie, when Regina dies, all her magic and stuff like that gets reversed. So, wouldn’t that mean F7 gets their memories of reader back? I like the theory of this, and if possible, I’d love to see it written! Hope this isn’t trouble

SUMMARY: Merlin is finally living his happily ever after with the most beautiful woman in the world, but after the spell is broken and his memories reappear, there is someone on his mind...

A/N: I'm going to base this off of my story on Wattpad, check it out! Also I wasn't entirely sure how Snow White would fit into this, because I love her so very much and I want her to be happy, but also Merlin. Sooooo... read to find out?!

Never in his life did Merlin ever think he'd be in his house, with his beautiful wife, and wondering if it was right.

Now, don't get him wrong, he loved Snow White to the end of the earth. She loved him for him, and he for her. But memories were flooding in.

And they weren't working in Snow's favor.

Not only had Merlin started to regain consciousness of Y/N, but he remembered everything about Snow's dad.

This had to have been some sort of setup.

It had finally occurred to Merlin that although he though Snow White was, in fact, the most beautiful person in the world, he couldn't bear to continue living with this thought in his head. He sat Snow White down one night to talk. He told her about everything he had remembered, about what his father-in-law had done to him, and about Y/N.

As perfect as she was, so was her response. She was incredibly understanding, and felt anger towards her father for the things he had done to her husband. She understood if he felt trapped in this marriage, and gave the option of divorce. He was floored by how quickly she had becoming understanding of the situation. But she finally admitted something that made everything make sense.

She had fallen in love with his best friend.

Jack was still living with them in the house, and the close proximity of the two drew them closer. Nothing had happened between them yet, but Snow White made it clear that she had in fact fallen out of love with Merlin.

The divorce was mutual, and Jack made it clear that he still loved the two even if he was essentially the driving force between them. But they knew King White wouldn't be happy about this at all. His daughter marrying into a cursed lineage? No dice.

They made a plan.

Jack and Snow White would remarry on a ship to France, where they would move and declare zero passage to anybody with papers from Fairy Tale Island, excluding the Fearless Seven, of course.

They proposed this to Merlin one night. "That's a great plan, you two. I think that will work nicely." The two gave him a look. "What?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "We want you to come with us," Snow White stated. "And," Jack continued. "We think you should bring Y/N home." It had suddenly occurred to Merlin the real reason why he had gone through the life-changing divorce in the first place. Jack's long lost sister, the thief of Fairy Tale Island.

His true love.

First, he had to find her.

Merlin honestly thought it would be much harder to find the woman he loved, but he actually found her within the first try as he entered Hans's bakery. The redhead was behind the counter, serving a customer a chocolate croissant when he noticed Merlin enter the shop. He looked like he was about to jump out of his nonexistent seat.

"Merlin!!!" He ran over and gave the man a hug as the customer left the building. When the coast was clear, Hans pulled away and whispered: "I heard about you and Snow White from Jack, is everything okay?" "Yeah, everything has been figured out, but that's actually what I came here to talk to you about." Hans pulled a chair out by the bar that was stationed by his workplace for Merlin to sit in. He then placed a plate in front of him with a buttered croissant on top. Merlin could feel his heart skip a beat. "Just like Y/N loved." His head whipped to look ahead at Hans, leaning against the bar. He knew. He remembered. "Is she..." "She's upstairs. I've been keeping her safe in my apartment, selling her maps in the shop for some extra cash for her. She never left the island, she couldn't leave you behind." Merlin paused. There was no way that she would want to see him right now. After he had pushed her away at the door, after he had married the daughter of the man who locked her away. There were a thousand questions running through his head, but Hans seemed to know, because he said: "She wants to see you." "Does she?" "She knows what happened to you. She knows your memory was erased, and once she heard about your divorce, she knew it must have been related to either her or King White's influence on the situation." Merlin gingerly stood, blinking at Hans as if he were asking a favor. Hans nodded, walked to the door of the bakery, and flipped the sign to closed before leading him upstairs.

"You're going to have to be quick about this if you want to make it to France before anyone finds out. I'll be downstairs to reopen. Be smart." Hans left Merlin to search the apartment for his lost love, and that proved to be anxiety-spiking for the man. He checked doors, peeked in closets, nothing. But as soon as hope was fleeting for Merlin, he heard the window open. The man stood back to allow Y/N to enter the apartment without getting startled. He watched her elegantly enter the window, reach up, and close it. Then she turned to face him.

She hadn't changed. The knife she was holding, most likely for safety, clattered to the ground. The girl in front of him was frozen, her expression unreadable. Merlin was unable to find the words until they slipped from his mouth:

"Love..."

As if he had given her permission, Y/N ran towards Merlin and nearly tackled him into a kiss, in which he gladly accepted. The passion and love that had been bottled into Y/N throughout the past year as well as the satisfaction of finally seeing the woman Merlin loved again was put into the kiss, so much so that Merlin had accidentally slammed Y/N into the wall, putting his hands on either side of her face.

A quiet, yet firm thumping interrupted the two. "Be smart!"

Merlin glanced from the floor back to Y/N, whose face was pink from blush. "Broom," she said simply. "He gets me with that when I'm too loud up here." "How did I ever live this past year without you in my mind?" The two stared at one another once again, then pulled each other close into an embrace.

It took approximately five minutes for Merlin to catch Y/N up on everything in his life, and once he was sure he finished, he looked at her nervously.

“We need to leave, and I want you to come with me.”

She raised her eyebrows im surprise, blinking twice, then putting her thumb to her teeth to nibble on the nail nervously.

“You don’t need to decide now, just sometime within-“

“I’ll go.”

Well, that was much easier than Merlin though it would be.

“This past year of my life has been hell, and it’s all because I’ve been without you.” She looked up and him, determination gracing her features. “I won’t risk losing you again.”

Merlin smiled and nodded, taking her hand and placing a soft kiss on the knuckle.

“We leave tomorrow.”

#merlin red shoes #merlin #red shoes and the seven dwarves #rsatsd #rsat7d #merlin x reader

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