The Weasleys, Circa 1995

this is the realest thing ive seen on tumblr gn

That one fic that’s so out of character that it makes you hate your favorite character

REALLLLL

I just want to read some fluffy (non-smutty) Steve Rogers x Reader fic where he doesn’t abandon her and is not a dark alpha mob boss!!!! I hate the dark! Steve trope with a deadly passion, but the tag is filled with it! Makes me wanna gag.

I LOVE THIS SM AJSDHFASJDFG

Of Duty and Desire | Chapter 2 | Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the love I got on the first part 🥰 and thank you for your patience waiting for this one. I hope y’all enjoy it, and while you’re waiting for the next part, allow me to shamelessly plug my other finished fic here.

5.2k words, which in the words of my roommate @britany1997 “you write long ass fics.” (I know, Brit, I know)

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

It had now been over a year since the Sullys' arrival in the reef, and you couldn't imagine your life without them anymore. Tuk was as good at diving as any Metkayina child her age. You and Lo'ak bonded over your ongoing friendly competition over who was the better ilu rider (you were, but he was getting better everyday). Kiri had truly blossomed in the reef, and nobody treated her differently anymore.

But out of the four of them, Neteyam was the one you felt closest to. Even though you enjoyed laughing and joking together, you both understood what it meant to have a responsibility to your clan, a sense of duty to your people. It was a shared experience that was part of the reason you had become friends so quickly. When you would feel overwhelmed or frustrated by the high expectations of your parents or Ronal, he was always there to listen and cheer you up.

On warmer nights, when you felt stressed, you would sneak out to enjoy the peace of the water on the beach alone. You spent so much of your day busy with things to do that you felt as though you rarely had a moment of peace with yourself.

On one such night, you walked along the edge of the beach before settling down in the sand, the waves of the water gently lapping at your feet. The night air was warm, and you lay back on the sand to look up at the stars. You stayed like that for some time before the sound of crunching sand behind you broke the peaceful silence.

You sat up quickly in alarm and found that it was Neteyam walking along the beach. He seemed just as surprised at finding you there on the beach by yourself. "You startled me," you told him as he drew near. "And you startled me," he countered. "I didn't think I would find anyone out so late." You hummed and explained, "I couldn't sleep." He sat down in the sand next to you. "Nor could I," he replied. "Do you often come out at night?"

You shrugged and leaned back on your hands. "Sometimes," you admitted. "I enjoy looking at the stars." Neteyam looked up at the clear night sky. He searched for a while before a slow smile appeared on his face. "Do you see that one there?" He asked, pointing at a star. You looked after him, but you weren't sure which he was referring to. "Which one?" You questioned.

He moved in close next to you, bringing his face right up next to yours. His shoulder leaned against yours as he lifted a hand to point at the sky. "There," he said softly as he pointed at a star flickering above. "The yellowish one." You stared up at where he pointed and noticed the yellow star he was referring to. "I see it," you said quietly with a small smile.

You turned your head to look at him, and you suddenly became aware of how close he was to you. Neteyam seemed to have the same realization because he pulled away gently and looked away self-consciously. "My father came from there," he explained as he looked back at the sky. "That very star."

You looked back up at the flickering light in amazement. "That is incredible," you whispered. "Your father is legendary amongst the Na'vi." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It is hard to see him as such when I have seen him embarrass himself countless times," he told you with a wry grin.

You suppressed a laugh. "I suppose to you, he is just your father," you mused. He smiled down at you. "Everyone sees him as this fearless leader," he explained, and his voice suddenly became very somber. "But I know what really scares him." You watched him expectantly, trying to think of all the great beasts that could inspire fear in such a renowned warrior. Then, with a sly smirk, he leaned in close and whispered, "My mother."

That time, he actually did make you laugh. "Tonowari is the same," you told him, and Neteyam nodded emphatically. "That is understandable. Ronal is very formidable," he said. You shrugged your shoulders casually. "She's not so bad," you defended. Your mother was a lifelong friend of the tsahik, and you had become very familiar with Ronal and developed a better understanding of her strict demeanor during your time as her apprentice.

Neteyam shot you a disbelieving look. You sighed before admitting, "She is formidable, yes, but she is very loyal and fiercely protective." You sifted the sand between your fingers and looked up at him with a smirk. "But I see how she can be scary. Even Tonowari thinks so."

Neteyam chuckled at you. "Something about the role of Olo'eyktan seems to attract fearsome mates," he observed humorously. You hummed in amusement. "I hope I will inspire the same fear in Aonung one day," you joked.

You weren't quite sure what it was, but you sensed a slight shift in Neteyam's demeanor. It was the prolonged silence between your statement and his reply, almost as if you had unwittingly said the wrong thing. You looked over at him, but when he glanced back, he offered a faint smile. "Perhaps you will," he said finally. "But for now, I have to admit, you don't seem very intimidating."

You scoffed lightheartedly and tossed some sand at him. "How dare you," you told him with false offense. "I will be even more fearsome than Ronal and your mother combined." He chuckled at your theatrics and brushed the sand off of his arm. "If that is true, then you will be like a palulukan," he stated.

You tilted your head at him in confusion. "A palulukan?" you echoed questioningly. Neteyam seemed to remember that the fierce, feline creature he spoke of did not live around the reef, and therefore you had no knowledge of it. "Palulukan, the bringer of fear," he explained. "They are large, dangerous predators in the forest. There is nothing they are afraid of, and there is nothing that is not afraid of them."

You smiled thoughtfully at his words. "That does sound fearsome," you conceded. "And I thought the ikran were intimidating." Neteyam huffed in amusement. "They certainly can be," he agreed. "But they are excellent companions when they're bonded." You hummed in consideration and replied, "That doesn't make them any less intimidating."

Neteyam was staring at you with a thoughtful face, a slow smile forming on his face. "Would you like to see them?" He asked mischievously. You looked over at him quizzically. "Right now?" You clarified. He shrugged, his lips still turned up in a grin. "Sure," he replied. "But we don't have to if you'd rather not."

You felt your own lips twist into a smile. You had wanted to see the great beasts the Sullys flew up close since they first arrived, but for some reason, you had felt a little awkward about asking them. Now, you finally had an invitation to go.

"I would love to see them," you told Neteyam sincerely. He stood up eagerly and held his hand out to you. You took it, and the two of you headed over to where they kept their ikran. The great, flying creatures preferred to stay up on the rocky precipices above the water, so the two of you had to walk quite a distance, but neither of you minded when you were in each other's company.

When you made it to the base of the cliff, Neteyam made a strange calling sound that carried up the side of the rock. After a moment, you saw the silhouette of his ikran glide over the edge of the cliff and settle down in front of you. You couldn't help but laugh in amazement as Neteyam stepped forward to greet his ikran.

"Do not look at his eyes," he warned as you approached carefully. You averted your gaze obediently and instead focused on the size of its powerful wings. "He is beautiful," you told him earnestly. "You chose well."

He chuckled as he stroked his ikran's neck. "He chose me," he corrected you. "Ikran are not like ilu or skimwings. They only bond with one rider. It is one of the trials of the Omatikaya." You listened attentively as you wandered around the ikran in admiration. "It must be very difficult," you noted as his ikran rustled its wings a few times. He huffed in amusement and muttered, "Very."

You wanted to touch the ikran, but you hesitated, not wanting to agitate it by accident. As though he could read your mind, Neteyam offered you a reassuring smile. "You can touch him," he told you. Giving him a quick glance, you carefully reached out and brushed your hand along its leathery skin.

His ikran snapped its head to look at you, causing you to jerk your hand back quickly. Neteyam chuckled at your reaction. Coming up behind you, he placed his hand on the back of yours and brought it back up to the body of his ikran, guiding your hand over its smooth, green skin.

You gave a small laugh of amazement. Under your palm, you could feel its tense muscles around its wings. "He is very strong," you observed. Neteyam hummed quietly in response right beside ear.

You turned your head to face him better. Even in the dim light, you could make out every detail of his face, the pattern of the stars on his face and his amber eyes that seemed to glow. In the silence between you, he seemed to be studying your face as well, his eyes flicking back and forth between your own.

Neteyam seemed to pull himself out if his thoughts. He withdrew his hand from yours and stepped back to stroke the head if his ikran. You ran your hand over the leathery wings as you took a moment to shake yourself out of your thoughts as well.

"It was a startling sight when your family first arrived," you said, finally breaking the silence. "Few of us had ever seen Na'vi fly in the sky." He smiled over at you thoughtfully. "Would you like to fly?" He asked, his corners of his lips turned upwards playfully.

You turned to him in surprise. "Are you being serious?" You questioned skeptically. He shrugged. "If you'd like," he replied simply. "We already came all the way out here." You looked back at the powerful creature beneath your palm, and you couldn't deny the excitement you felt at his proposal.

"Are you sure?" You asked nervously. "Is it safe?" Neteyam's face softened as he smiled at you. "I will keep you safe," he assured you. "I promise."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and looking up in his face, you knew he would keep his word. "Okay," you said softly, then added playfully, "but you better not let me fall." He laughed at you. "I won't," he promised.

Attaching his queue to his ikran, Neteyam hoisted himself up on its back. He held out his hand to you, and after a brief hesitation, you took it. He pulled you up to sit on the space behind him. Since there was no saddle to sit on, you drew yourself close to Neteyam's back.

"The takeoff will be the worst part," he warned over his shoulder. "Just hold on to me, I won't let you fall." You wrapped your arms around his torso and replied softly, "Okay." The ikran crawled away to the edge of the cliff. "Ready?" Neteyam asked, and you could tell by his voice that he was smiling. Wrapping your arms tighter, you replied, "Ready."

His ikran lurched upwards and quickly began beating its wings. The sudden movement made you gasp and squeeze Neteyam's torso even tighter. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were almost starting to regret agreeing to this, but almost as quickly as it started, the frantic flapping stopped.

The wind was rushing through your hair as you glided gently through the air. The wings of the ikran moved gently to maintain its height, but it was not as hard or as fast as when it left the ground. After the startling takeoff, you couldn't help but laugh in giddy delight over the thrilling feeling of being in the air.

Neteyam cast a quick look over his shoulder at you and returned your wide smile. He held your thigh securely as his ikran turned right over the water. You could see the reflections of the stars above you in the water below. Neteyam brought his ikran just above the surface of the water, its wings barely skimming the top.

You marveled at the feeling of flying. The warm air felt cool as it rushed around you. The world seemed to be moving slowly around you. You felt your stomach flutter as you swooped upwards, and you began climbing through the air again.

"This is incredible!" You shouted over the sound of the wind. Neteyam laughed in response. "Not like an ilu, right?" he called out. You laughed too before replying, "Not at all."

You continued rising through the air steadily, and when you leveled out, you gasped at the sight below you. Everything was so beautiful. The bioluminescent plants below lit up the village, and the sea was sparkling with the light of the stars.

You leaned your cheek against Neteyam's back as you took in the image of everything under you. It was so incredible that, for a moment, you thought that maybe you were dreaming, but you knew this couldn't be the case. You never could have come up with this feeling in your sleep, and the rushing air around you and the warmth of Neteyam's body against yours was too real to be a dream.

You weren't sure how long you were both in the air, but it didn't feel like long enough. Eventually, Neteyam had his ikran settle down on the beach right at the edge of the village before he leapt down off its back. He took you by the hand and helped you dismount easily.

"That was exhilarating!" You gushed in excitement. He grinned at you and admitted, "I was worried you were going to back out last minute." You pushed him playfully. "Not me," You laughed. "I wasn't going to miss out on being the first of the Metkayina to fly!"

He chuckled at your giddy bravado. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said. "It's easy for me to take flying for granted." You shook your head in amazement and sighed. "Thank you," you told him, staring up at him earnestly. "It was very generous of you to take me." He had a soft smile as he gazed down at you. "It was nothing," he replied gently. "If you ever want to go again, just ask." You grinned and nodded. "I'd like that," you said softly.

A brief silence settled over the two of you as you looked up into his face. In the same way as earlier that night, you found yourself studying his face again. His smile was contagious, and the way his eyes looked down at you so softly made your face grow warm.

After a moment, Neteyam sighed reluctantly. "It is getting late," he mentioned. "I think it would be best for us to go home." You closed your eyes and sighed as well. You knew that he was right and that you should do the same.

He gave his ikran an affectionate pat before disconnecting his queue. His ikran took to the skies, blowing the sand as he flapped away. You both watched for a moment before turning back to the village.

Neteyam walked quietly back with you to your home, careful not to disturb anyone around. When you arrived, you turned back to face him. "I will see you tomorrow," he whispered softly. You couldn't suppress the smile on your face as you responded, "I will see you then."

You watched for a moment as he walked away, still wearing a faint smile on your face. As you settled into bed, you replayed the night in your head. You could still feel the rush of wind on your face, the warmth of his body against your own, and you could hear his laugh ringing through your head.

You stared at the canopy above you for a long time, growing more and more perplexed. Neteyam was a close friend, and you had always thought he was kind and intelligent, but now, your thoughts were wandering back to the feeling of your face resting against his back, his steadying grip on your thigh as you swooped over the water, and the way he looked at you in the silent moments between laughs.

What perplexed you was that you found yourself missing his touch, missing his presence. You wanted to hear more stories about the forest and to see his face light up as he told them. You wanted to hold him close again as you flew into the late night sky.

Worst of all, you felt a faint, dangerous desire growing in you hoping that he felt the same way.

A welcome distraction came the following week after your late-night adventure with Neteyam. With the water growing warmer again, you and your clan were overjoyed to welcome the return of the tulkun. Along with the rest of the Metkayina, the day that they returned, you spent hours in the water with your spirit sister, Tanati. She was a talented storyteller, and she regaled you with her adventures away from the reef.

Every year with the return of the tulkun, the Metkayina held a great feast at night. All along the beach, there were several fires lit. A great supply of food was provided, and the night was to be filled with music and dancing. Everybody dressed in their finest clothing, and you even changed your hairstyle for the occasion.

This was your favorite time of the year. The whole clan was buzzing with excitement as they prepared for the feast. Being reconnected with Tanati brought you so much joy, and the happiness of the rest of the clan made it all the sweeter.

You sat with Tonowari's family as you all began eating. A wide variety of fish and vegetables as well as sweet nectar from the tropical plants on shore were all distributed among the people. You laughed with the Sully children, Tsireya, and other friends as you ate in the diminishing light of the evening.

After a short interlude of time to eat, Tonowari stood up, drawing the attention of the rest of the clan. "Tonight," he called out loudly for everyone to hear, "we celebrate the return of our tulkun brothers and sisters!" Cheers rose up from the masses. As they died away, he continued, "We are reminded of the cycle of life, and we celebrate new life as well as the lives of those who have gone on to be with our Great Mother."

There was a brief silence as everyone reflected on his words. Both the Na'vi and the tulkun had celebrated the births of children as well as mourned the deaths of loved ones in the community that year, but it was important that the balance of life be honored and celebrated, especially on a night like this.

"Now," Tonowari said, "let us sing and dance in celebration to honor our tulkun family." More cheers rose up from the people, and soon after, drums began pounding in the open air.

As the music began, you perked up. The opening song was an easy dance for everyone to join. You grabbed Neteyam's arm in excitement. "You must join us!" You said eagerly, pulling him gently as you stood up. He let out a small laugh and shook his head. "I don't know these dances," he pointed out, resisting your pulling.

You gave an imploring smile. "This is easy!" you explained. "Just watch." He didn't budge, but he looked up at you with a playful grin. "I will watch," he agreed before adding, "from here." People were already lining up to begin the dance, and since you didn't want to miss out, you dropped his arm with an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes with a smile.

Before leaving, you held a hand out to Kiri. "Join me," you offered her pleadingly. After a brief hesitation, she grabbed your hand and skipped across the sand to join in the dance. As you all began moving, you demonstrated the fluid motion of the dance to her, your arms moving around you and your body rocking in a motion that imitated the pull of the sea waves.

As you danced, you didn't see the Omatikayan boy staring at you. He had a soft smile on his face as he watched you dancing with his sister, admiring your graceful movements in time with the drums. He almost regretted not following after you to dance, but he enjoyed a better view from where he was sitting. While watching you, he didn't notice his mother's discerning gaze watching him instead.

As the night wore on, the dancing continued. You hardly stopped, only taking the occasional break to catch your breath. Neteyam's eyes always followed you as you dance. You were practically glowing as you moved, and he marveled at how you looked in the flickering light of the fires adorned in your pretty accessories with your new hairstyle.

At one point, Aonung took you to dance. The two of you were facing across from each other in a line. Neteyam stared hard as the two of you mirrored each other's movements in time with the music. You were beaming as you twirled in the sand, and Aonung seemed to reflect your delight. Neteyam watched you dance with him for entire song, unable to tear his eyes away from you, and Neytiri didn't miss it.

Later on, you sat out a song to catch your breath. You wandered over to where the Sullys sat. Tsireya was already seated next to Lo'ak and was explaining the significance of the moves to him. You sat down beside her, breathing heavily from all of your dancing in the sand.

Neteyam moved to sit on the other side of you. "You have not danced once," you scolded him playfully. "Even Lo'ak joined in." It was true. Tsireya had actually managed to convince him to join her in the sand, though he moved awkwardly as he tried imitating the motion of the dance.

"Believe me," he said, "watching that from here was much more enjoyable than joining in." You laughed at his words. "At least he's joining in the celebration," you retorted playfully. Neteyam didn't respond, he just smiled at your joking attitude.

The dance ended, and the participants and onlookers alike laughed and cheered. After a brief respite, the musicians began a new song. You nudged Neteyam's arm gently. "The night is nearly over," you said. "This is your last chance."

He looked at you, and you saw a slow smile spread across his face. Without saying a word, he held his hand out to you. You beamed and took it immediately. Standing up together, you headed over to where the line was forming. "I still don't know the dance," he told you with a grin. You laughed and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go to move across from him. "Just copy what I do," you said.

This particular song was slower, and so it was easier for him to follow along. With every step, every turn, and every move, his eyes stayed intently focused on you. He mirrored your movement almost perfectly, and you smiled as you drew close together. In the dim evening light, his face was illuminated by the fires around you, and his normally yellowish eyes were almost a flame-colored orange

The same flustered feeling you had felt the previous week began fluttering in your chest. Your movements were automatic as you became transfixed on Neteyam. He seemed to be a faster learner than Lo'ak when it came to dancing because his movements were fluid and almost perfectly in time with yours. Watching him perform the Metkayina dances so well made you beam with pride, and you felt as though nobody else was present but the two of you.

The whole time, Neteyam's enchanting smile never wavered, and you hardly realized when the dance had ended. The two of you stood in the sand for a few moments, slightly winded and grinning widely. The sight of the other dancers walking away from the open dancing space pulled you out of your daze finally, and together, you and Neteyam headed back to where his family was sitting and his mother was watching closely.

You sighed happily as you plopped down in the sand besides Tsireya. She nudged you playfully, and you nudged her back with a grin. On your other side, Neteyam sat down with a quiet grunt. "I thought you said it was my last chance," he said cheekily, nodding at the next round of dancers lining up in the sand.

"This dance is for mated couples only," you explained. "It will be over soon. Then, we will sing together before the celebration is finished." He nodded his understanding at you, his eyes fixated on the dancing couples on the sand.

"This is a wonderful tradition," he said earnestly. "I only watched from a distance last year." You followed where his eyes were fixed on the moving figures. "It is one of my favorite nights of the year," you admitted with a sight of contentment. He glanced back at you with a soft smile and said, "I understand why."

The dancing came to an end at that moment, and all of the couples returned to where their groups were seated. Ronal stepped up at the center of the beach with all eyes on her expectantly. After a few moments of quiet, she opened her mouth and sang the opening verse to the Song of Thankfulness.

As her clear, melodic voice rang out, you and the other women joined in the song, repeating the same line. Eventually, the deeper voices of the men joined in the song. There were no instruments used, it was all just a chorus of voices that carried across the beach. You closed your eyes and lifted your face to the stars as you sang, absorbing the moment of peace and happiness with your people.

As the song came to an end, you opened your eyes reluctantly, not wanting the night to end. From the corner of your eye, you could see Neteyam watching you, but when you turned to look at him, his gaze quickly darted away. From your other side, Tsireya moved to stand, and you knew it was time for everyone to retreat back to their homes.

"Good night," you told Neteyam quietly as you began to stand up. He quickly jumped up from his sitting position and offered his hand to you. With a soft smile, you accepted it, and he pulled you up gently from the sand. As you stood up, he held onto your hand for a beat and gazed down at you, the dying fire casting flickering shadows across his face. "Good night," he said finally and let go of your hand.

You missed the feeling of his touch immediately, and you were grateful that it was too dark for him to see your face blushing. You managed to pull your attention away Neteyam and turned to the rest of his family. Lo'ak and Kiri were also standing to their feet to go home. Tuk had fallen asleep long ago and was being carried by her father while Neytiri watched closely as you turned away from Neteyam.

"Good night," you told them with a polite nod. The weariness of dancing was finally affecting you, and you were eager to fall asleep. They all bid you goodnight in return, and you turned and walked back to where your family was waiting.

The Sullys headed back to their own place. After all of their children were tucked away to sleep, Neytiri gave her mate a squeeze on the shoulder and motioned with her head to the entrance of their tent. Understanding her silent request, Jake followed her outside.

Outside of their tent, Neytiri turned to face him. "You need to speak to your son before he does something stupid," she whispered to him in English in case any of the Metkayina were nearby. Jake raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You're gonna have to be more specific," he responded quietly. Neytiri made a disapproving face. "Your eldest," she clarified. "He has grown very fond of the tsakarem girl."

Jake let out a little sigh. He had noticed his son's affection for you as well, but he hadn't really considered it particularly urgent. "What do you want me to do?" He asked. Neytiri stepped closer to him and spoke in a low voice. "He needs to—" she paused to find the right word in English. "He needs to separate from her."

Jake gave her an uncomfortable look. He knew that you had been very kind to all of his children, and he didn't like the idea of pushing you away from his family. Neytiri caught the meaning in his face and turned away from him in mild exasperation. "She is tsakarem," she whispered insistently. "She is spoken for. This can only end badly."

After a moment, Jake's lips pulled upwards in a sly grin. He hummed thoughtfully and walked up behind his mate, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her against his chest. "I think I've heard this story before," he whispered teasingly in her ear. "A young warrior from a strange land being welcomed into a new life, learning new customs, meeting a pretty tsakarem who is spoken for."

Despite herself, Neytiri began smiling softly as Jake nuzzled her cheek affectionately. "In fact, I remember falling in love with you on a night like tonight," he said gently. "It didn't turn out so bad for us, did it?"

She sighed reluctantly. "This is different," she insisted quietly. Jake gave a light chuckle. "How?" He questioned. Neytiri opened her mouth to answer, but she found that anything she could say about her son was almost identical to the situation she had lived through herself, and for the first time, she could truly understand the headache she probably gave her parents all those years ago.

"We are here under uturu," she said finally. "If something happens, they can revoke their shelter, and we will all be in danger again." Jake sighed, knowing that she was right. "I will speak to him," he conceded quietly.

Neytiri nodded without reply. After a moment, she muttered, "He gets it from you. You are a bad influence." Jake chuckled again. "Charm and good looks are the Sully curse," he said as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Neytiri's mouth twisted in a grin at his words. They both stood there for a while with Jake holding her from behind. Even though they didn't say it, they were both reflecting on the beginning of their relationship, him being a strange foreigner and her being betrothed to another man.

Despite the fact that he was going to try to discourage Neteyam from being with you, Jake couldn't help but feel that if his son was anything like him, he wasn't going to listen.

Chapter 3

______

Taglist: @mashiromochi @eywas-heir @kafanizdakicokiyi @plzfeedmebread @peachinsomnia

HWEHEEHHEHEHHEH

hey siri, play wannabe by hey mona

posted on twt too bc why not

DAMNNNN OKAY

just thinking about how big simon riley is.

like him fucking you in missionary; the way his shoulders completely block your field of vision and his large hand planted right by your ear dwarfs your own by the masses. his meaty, veiny arm leading up to his panting chest, usually pressed fully against your own as it gets him so worked up to feel your tummy and tits, hard nipples and soft skin grazing his calloused build. the big man comes with big scars!!

speaking of scars, he gets so fucking weak in the knees and heart when you pay attention to his various marks scattered on him. he never tells you the full stories—rarely even a spec of the truth, most often—but he still gets a little flustered when you kiss them better.

simon can usually hold it together, but sometimes (all the time) he gets sooo hard and blushy when you touch and squeeze his biceps and feel up his abs. call him your strong and impressive man and he’ll have you on your hands and knees in the matter of seconds, shoving his dick in you from behind to cover up how pink his cheeks turned.

he loves coming up behind you in the bathroom while you’re getting ready, putting on your pretty lipgloss or adjusting the bow in your hair while he watches through the mirror like a quiet, curious dog.

seeing how the width of your shoulders only reach his pecs when you’re centered at his front, and christ, the height difference.

placing his large palms on your hips, one up them maneuvering to flatten out on your tummy and pull you further into him. he wraps his arms around your entire frame for the tightest bear hug ever.

call him cliché, but he has such an evil habit of comparing your hand sizes. it turns him on and makes you giggle, each and every time.

the one time you asked him to slip his arm around your waist and head in the crook of your collar for a mirror picture had resulted in your neck being sandwiched between his bicep and forearm, and long lasting marks on your hips from where they hit the counter repeatedly as he fucked you hard in a chokehold.

you just get him so riled up! but it’s okay, because he kissed your temple a lot throughout and afterwards apologized with cuddles for ruining your nice outfit and makeup <3

mama

MIA

THIS WAS AMAZING OH MY GOSH

reverie || bradley “rooster” bradshaw

summary: arguing with rooster in the rain. :) what could possibly happen? you definitely won’t kiss in the midst of a storm. right? right???? unless…

words: ~1.1k

warnings: brief mentions of violence, angst, cliche rain kiss. raining on the beach kiss (ok mayb this is even more romantic but i’m 100% here for it) also some swearing

a/n: MY FAVORITE FIC TROPE OF ALL TIME. i knew i was due for a rooster fic with the classic rain kiss scene, so here we are!!

“Echo. What are you doing out here?” 

You turned around to see a rather calm-looking Rooster standing by the dock.

“Leave me alone.”

Rooster sighed, and started making his way down the wooden steps. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

Keep reading

i've never read anything like this before. love it!!! :)

Threadbare (1)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader (see series)

Summary: Steve gets to meet his favorite designer, and you get a surprise visitor at work.

Warnings: none. Maybe a bit of creepy behavior but not from Steve. Yes, I did just want to use the leather jacket gif for shiggles. What's it to ya? WC 3355

Steve Rogers hates stuffy functions. He hates the brown-nosing. He hates trying to convince people who have everything to give scraps to people with nothing. He hates watching the excess and indulgence, even when he knows it ends up giving something to those in need. He hates it. He hates the whole lot of these stupid, asinine—

Steve takes a breath and smooths his hand down the buttery fabric of a double-breasted jacket hanging next to his intended garment.

Ok, fine, he hates the functions, but he actually enjoys the dressing up part.

He didn’t used to. No. The only outfit outside of his Cap suit that ever truly fit him—before or after the serum—was his SSR uniform, and coming from a time of nothing, Steve accepted that as a huge win.

And then he woke up in this world of excess and—what do they call it? Fast-fashion?— realized that what should be easier to acquire was much, much harder to find: room to breathe.

Steve may roll his eyes at Tony’s custom everything, but he admits internally that at least Stark’s comfortable all the time. Steve would settle for being comfortable in his own skin.

This helps though, this gloriously draped, stiff in a supportive way, heavy in a grounding way, and shapely button down. He doesn’t need a whole suit tonight; it’s not that kind of event. In fact, Steve wasn’t specifically invited. He heard Tony talking about the new collection by the designer of this shirt—which happens to be the label for 90% of Steve’s dressier clothing at this point—and Steve outright volunteered himself to go with Tony.

See, Steve Rogers is now a big, broad guy, and it’s been an adjustment, as well as plain difficult, to gather a wardrobe that isn’t custom tailored due to his sheer size and proportions. The team jokes about his tight shirts, but if he buys things large enough for his shoulders, his waist swims in fabric. Steve had to live off of stretchy clothing for the first three years he was out of the ice. He wasn’t out of his Cap suit long enough for the investment to be worthwhile. Then it took another several years before he discovered Tovarich.

The man must know what it’s like to be big and broad, that’s for sure. Steve may not be much for high fashion, but he’s genuinely gotten so much comfort and enjoyment out of Mr. Tovarich’s work that Steve wants to thank him personally. For once, being Captain America is a good card to play to ensure he gets to meet the designer.

Steve adjusts his rolled sleeves a bit in the mirror, smirking at himself for being a bit of a dandy concerning his look right now, but he’s determined to have a good time out with Tony. It’s just a fashion show. How difficult can it be?

Really damn difficult, that’s what it is.

Steve isn’t prepared for the bizarre press interest in who is there instead of what is being shown. He’s used to cameras flashing at him—especially because the bright and loud pops of flashes were much worse in the ‘40s—but Steve’s in awe of the models’ complete indifference while walking a straight line with a straight face in some of the simplest, most magnificent men’s wear he’s ever seen.

If all he had to do was tick boxes on a list to order things, Steve would be in big trouble with a full bingo card and an empty wallet. It’d be worth it though.

Tony tries to talk to him every so often, but the music is outrageously loud. Steve can’t hear a thing.

He gets tapped on the shoulder by some women sitting behind him, and they try to say some more things he can’t hear.

Everyone rises to clap, and Steve joins in, overwhelmed by the fast pace of all the outfits on repeat, when the man on his other side accidentally elbows Steve and drops his program. The paper flutters to land in front of Tony’s feet, so Steve picks it up, hands it back, and the man makes an appreciative face before gesturing vaguely at the runway and mouthing his admiration. Steve nods and smiles, happy he’s not the only one fanboying over clothes.

The lights change in the venue. The photography and clapping stop. Tony starts yammering on about an after party, but Steve wants to meet the designer.

“Oh, Cap, that walk-and-wave was as close as you’re getting today. Tovarich is a hot commodity. I’ll just get you a fitting sometime.” He clamps a hand onto Steve’s shoulder and tilts his head toward the refreshments. “Shall we?”

Darn. Steve should have done more research on how fashion shows work, but he hates how invasive online snooping feels. It was fine when he was catching up on history and historical figures. However, most of the ‘news’ now is not news at all, so he avoids searching for information that way. He doesn’t ask question about Mr. Tovarich because, in theory, it’s none of Steve’s business and Steve may or may not be slightly ashamed at how obsessed he is with something as trivial as clothing.

Fashion is not something he thought about until very, very recently. The most time he’s spent worried about what he puts on is his tac suit, and the main features of that are being blade resistant and bullet proof. Those things don’t exactly interest him so much as they are in his best interest.

So Steve is rather disappointed by the outcome of the evening, but he’ll manage. For once, he’s got a tiny bright light of something to look forward to in the form of a few more dress shirts and a very sharp vest.

He goes on with life as usual.

Months later and they’re doing this thing.

It’s called the Hellfire Gala, and apparently, it’s a big, big deal. Steve’s told everyone goes all out, that he’ll need to be dressed to the nines, and he realizes this is his opportunity.

Tony’s elated to make the arrangements for him with the Tovarich Atélier and plans to go with him. He wouldn’t stop grumbling about how awkward Steve might be, raving that he can’t have Steve getting a bad rap under his clout, so Steve shows up nervous.

Tony sends a text saying he’s running late. Of course he is, today of all days.

Steve shuts his eyes and lowers his head in gratitude that there are only two seamstresses when he first arrives. The ladies—one older and one younger—offer refreshments and ask a few questions about the event and what styles he might be interested in. He explains the getup needs to highlight the ‘Cap’ persona since the gala is a celebration of their work as Avengers, but other than that, it’s the-sky’s-the-limit for Tovarich.

The younger seamstress smiles at that and calls it ‘fun.’

Sure. That’s one word for it. Steve would also call it daunting.

As instructed, he stands on a small platform while the ladies bustle about speaking quietly to each other. Steve hears Tony ring the reception bell before any measurements have started, and he heaves out a sigh of relief.

“In time for the good stuff, am I?” Stark winks.

“Always perfectly welcome, Mr. Stark,” you, the younger woman, say politely. “Would you care for anything to drink?”

“Uh,” Tony smooths his hand down his current suit front, eyes flickering to Steve, “have you met me?”

Your smile widens. “Dominica, please,” you signal to your coworker.

Between your fingers, you’ve folded a scrap of paper, something you scribbled while Steve stood awkwardly on the pedestal (which isn’t to say he has stopped standing awkwardly), and Tony snatches the paper from your grasp, unfolding it to make a challenging, inquisitive face.

Steve huffs and glares, praying his friend doesn’t start hitting on Tovarich’s employee before the man even shows up. Steve isn’t the one to be worried about.

Stark takes Dominica’s proffered tumbler of brown liquor, saying nothing.

You are a ninja with the tape measure, gentle hands sliding over his chest and waist and—Steve swallows—his hips, all while rattling off numbers…which no one writes down. Steve moves his arms and legs when told. When you’re kneeling on the edge of the platform, eye level with his crotch, Steve decides to distract himself and get some answers.

“I’ve been looking forward to my first meeting with Mr. Tovarich. When might he arrive?”

Tony clears his throat, wincing. “Not possible, buddy.”

Steve tenses.

“I thought that—“

“You can’t meet him for the the first time.” Tony holds up a hand before Steve can move. “You already did. She’s measuring the distance between your balls and the floor.”

Steve startles out a ‘what,’ snapping his legs shut with your hand between his thighs.

“Captain Steve Rogers, please meet your favorite designer,” Tony beams, shoving his tongue against the inside of his cheek and hiking up his eyebrows.

Steve shrinks, face burning.

“Hello, Captain Rogers,” you introduce yourself with a lovely smile, “I will…need my hand to make your suit, sir.”

His open-mouthed impression of a fish is cut short by standing at attention, releasing the seal of his thighs. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”

“Very polite,” you mutter before turning to Tony. “Mr. Stark, was that entirely necessary?”

“For the look alone, yes. My god, I’ll pay you again just to watch now that he knows.”

You push off the platform and practically skip over to Tony, reading over his shoulder. “How did I do?”

Tony looks at the piece of paper. “Damn it. Spot on,” Tony grunts.

“And that means…?”

“That I leave you alone for the rest of the consult,” Tony whines. “Fine, but make it worth it, buddy. Lady gets paid by the hour.” He snaps his fingers playfully. “Dominica, let’s take room two, my dear.”

Steve’s not sure what to do with his hands and mistakenly remains up high on the pedestal while you pull out a notebook and sit at a small table.

“Oh!” You look up at him with tender, lively eyes. “You may step down now.”

He feet seem to thunder to the floor even against the carpet. “I didn’t mean to—I just assumed that—I’m sorry, Misses—”

“It’s Miss,” you correct him. “And don’t worry. You are not the first, and you won’t be the last. Have a seat, Captain.”

“Steve.”

“Steve,” you correct yourself this time. “I’ll tell you a secret. I prefer that most people assume a man runs this business. You get to see people’s true colors when they finally find out.”

That doesn’t help Steve’s hot flush of embarrassment.

“You are one of the good ones. I can tell,” you add, adjusting to a fresh page in the notebook and marking the top corner.

In the silence Steve asks, “so you already knew my size?”

“You aren’t so different from my standard cut.”

“No,” he allows. Of course, he should have known that seeing as everything he buys from your label fits him so well. He kicks himself internally while trying not to frown at his slip up. It is, however, easy to keep a smile while basking in the glow of yours.

You pop your shoulder up into a shrug, lips morphing into a wry tease. “And I’m pretty good at what I do.”

Amazing, Steve thinks to himself. You’re amazing…at what you do.

Your elbow rests against the table, hand cupping your jaw as you hold Steve’s gaze.

“Some even call me a master of the male form.”

His swallow is deafening, which only makes you happier, and he looks down at his knee, rubbing his pant leg while his face heats.

“But for today’s purposes—“ you lean back in your chair, twirling your pencil playfully, a magic wand in your brilliant hands “—why don’t you tell me what makes me your favorite designer so I can make you my favorite client?”

Why’d you have to be so pretty? Why do you need him for so few fittings?

Steve has to stop himself from spending a Tony Stark-sized fortune on clothing for the pleasure of walking into your store and seeing you alone—well, in the hope of seeing you at all. Dominica is very sweet, sassy in a hard ass mom kind of way, and she’s one of four total assistants you have at the shop. Steve’s met three of them.

There’s just only one of you, and you’re busy.

Between his duties with the Avengers, actually sleeping, and debating with himself about what constitutes looking desperate, Steve is lucky to have caught you in-house only half the times he visits.

And then he tore a shirt. In fact, he tore three shirts, and to his credit, two of them were by accident. The third…uh, there’s a chance that when Steve exclaimed “oh shoot, I didn’t see that nail poking out” that he 100% saw that nail and deliberately brushed himself against that wall. He also may or may not have deliberately done it in front of Tony, faking that it was no big deal, because now he has the excuse that Tony is the one who told him to go see you.

Yeah, Steve agrees, if you say so.

He’s all excitement and nerves again when he rounds the corner of your street, but then the adrenaline shoots through Steve’s veins for a different reason.

A squad car has jumped the curb in front of your shop, lights flashing, doors left open, and Steve can hear lots of tense voices.

It’s a stressful enough day without the uninvited guest. Not many people—who know how you work and are not assholes—would dare to show up within a month of the Spring Show, without an appointment, and demand a rush job.

A rush job on a custom suit that you explicitly said could not be rushed before its scheduled time, mind you, but the surprise visitor doesn’t care.

Richard Fisk is broad. He has dirty blond hair that falls in front of his eyes when he tilts his head to smile. He often travels with a whole team of other imposing men.

The son of Wilson ‘Kingpin’ Fisk, however, is a prime example of personality souring good looks. Where it’s bashful and adorable that Steve Rogers hides his smile, Richard barely bridles his menacing entitlement.

You hate him, but he’s not a person you can outright refuse. He makes all of your assistants uncomfortable. Fisk is needlessly hostile to Tarik, who is thankfully not here today; he’s a creepy dick to Abby, who you insist stays in the fitting room with Anja, your longtime client who trusts you to push the envelope tastefully for a redheaded woman in her sixties; and he almost made Jules quit because he couldn’t follow instructions during a consult. Dominica stands in as the perfect buffer when she’s here, but the eldest of the Tovarich Atélier employees is currently on the other side of the city for a VIP delivery.

Your busy, busy day just got much harder.

His trio of beefy entourage flanks Fisk at the front of your shop.

“Here for my suit, sugar,” he drawls, flicking his used toothpick into a corner on the floor.

He eyes Abby as she shuts herself and Anja away from his direct ire, and although this leaves you alone, it stops your worry for their safety in addition to your own.

“As it stipulates in the commission, we take at least—“

“Those little hands are free now, I see,” he spits, stepping within an few inches of your face. His breath is foul and hot.

The aggression has you stumbling back, smashing into a side table and knocking a box of supplies to the ground.

“How ‘bout you get to work.”

You take in a heavy, fortifying, and quiet gasp. “Per your order, the fabric is manufactured off-site because teal is not a standard color. It takes time to produce. This was made very clear when you signed.”

Fisk flashes that menacing smile. “We can wait. One of these fine men can…keep you focused till you do your job.”

The condescending tone and disrespect of your work ethic spark flames of rage in your gut. Even though terror still simmers beneath, it’s too easy to let an insult fly.

“You’re lucky I’m even making it. The all white one last summer was a stretch, but teal? On you? Not something you can pull off.”

He lunges forward again. “Keep up the cheek, and I’ll lock you in my basement until I get everything I—“

“Ma’am,” a cop bursts through the shop door, “we got a call…” The officer goes quiet after one look at Fisk.

Abby must have phoned after hearing you knock supplies down, and you’re grateful, yes, but police are of little help with this guy. Cops wouldn’t dare ruffle Kingpin’s feathers or his awful son’s by proxy, but if you roll over now, you’ll never get back out from under him.

The only way forward is to put your foot down.

“Mr. Fisk, I wouldn’t make you a black and white striped three-piece if you did chain me in a basement. You’re a spring, and I have standards.”

“Ma’am,” the officer warns, his partner standing nervously in the open doorway.

“What kind of professional would I be if I let you walk around looking like a mental asylum inmate? I’m doing you a favor!”

Richard brandishes another toothpick. “The customer is always right, sugar.”

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid to taunt him and yell. Being insulted and diminished doesn’t make you want to be smart though; it makes you want to be right.

Your hands ball into fists of fear and rage. “It’s my name on the label,” you bark, “and I could just refund you to get you the hell out!”

Now you’ve really done it.

The boy gangster’s face twists and his oral fixation goes limp in disbelief. No one talks to Richard Fisk that way, least of all women.

His men step between both the cops and their boss, leaving Fisk himself to grab a solid wood tie box from the nearest counter and fling it at your face.

Your arms fly up to block it, but nothing ever connects, nor is there a crash behind you.

An officer’s voice wavers from across the room. “Uh, I’m sure this can all be worked out. No need to…start anything.”

You’re ashamed to say that your hands are shaking when they return to your sides and reveal an entirely different bulky blond.

Steve Rogers casually holds the caught box in his hands, staring daggers as he shifts squarely in front of you to block Fisk.

“This doesn’t concern you, Captain,” the bully grunts. “Piss off.”

Steve strides forward to replace the box neatly and plants himself inches from Fisk’s face.

“Can’t do that. She’s expecting me.” He turns back to you. “Ready?” Steve asks with a tight smile.

You swallow down one iota of your alarm and clear your throat.

“Yes—” the word cracks but you hope familiarity will scare off Fisk for now “—thank you, Steve.”

That seems to be Captain America’s cue to handle everyone else at odds in the storefront. By the time you get control of your trembling limbs, Steve has shown Fisk the door and promised the officers that you’ll be looked after.

Abby peeks out of the fitting room, surprised to see only Steve.

“Did they send you instead?”

She opens the door wider for Anja to see.

The redhead quirks an eyebrow. “Call the police more often, honey. They’ve upped their game.”

The now bashful, broad blond tilts his head, rogue hair falling across his face. His blue eyes sparkle beneath long lashes while he apologizes for lying, but you can’t for the life of you figure out why he’d feel guilty.

“I…” Steve stumbles. “I don’t have an appointment. I just wanted to see you.”

Currently estimating four parts to this grumbling into the ether but who knows. I clearly cannot be trusted to estimate length anymore...

[Next Part]

You can find more to read on my Main Masterlist! For readers under 18, please see the Light Masterlist which contains all-age-friendly works.

@supraveng @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @femefetalelevelingup @darsynia

OKAY YOU ATE THIS UPPPPPPP I LOVE THIS SERIES SM. like i kid u not imo this is one of THE best written eris fics there is out there. love it and love U AUTHOR THANKS FOR WRITING THIS

chapter xxii – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 5,000+

masterlist

Y/N spent the next three weeks hiding in her workroom, making various potions and charms and candles – and anything else that would help the human women and children who now had sanctuary in the Forest House. Many of them could not sleep due to nightmares or anxiety, feeling like they were still in danger. Others had other mental hurdles that prevented them from even finding the will to live.

So, Y/N had been working day and night, casting remedies for it all with her witchcraft. 

She had barely been sleeping. Even worse, she was barely eating. 

Servants would politely knock on her door and silently bring her giant plates of food for every meal – and even small plates of snacks. But as soon as they left, Y/N would forget the food was ever brought in the first place. She would just get sucked right back into working. 

But the humans weren’t the only thing haunting her. 

Y/N hadn’t seen Eris since her confession in the woods. 

Surprisingly, it was because he had respected her request to give them space. 

But she heard the people of the Forest House, and they gossiped in whispers.

Eris had apparently been working himself to exhaustion, visiting various villages across Autumn Court, speaking with the common folk, and delegating tasks to his advisors. 

The wind constantly urged Y/N to go to him. But she managed to ignore their constant torment. 

Y/N now worked on making a tea for the young humans who were anxious as ever, despite now being safe in Autumn Court. She understood that the fae realm was strange and scary – especially after their first exposure to the realm was nothing but torture. 

Suddenly, the door to her workshop was thrown open. 

The five bloodhounds napping near it jumped to attention and growled menacingly. 

Lucien came strutting in, clearly on some sort of mission. 

The dogs snarled at his interruption and lunged for him.

And if it weren’t for the invisible shield Lucien had clearly conjured with a lazy flick of his wrist, his ankles surely would’ve been torn apart by their jaws. 

Y/N quickly looked back down at her work, not even acknowledging his entrance.

“I’m busy,” she muttered with obvious annoyance. 

“Well, now…” Lucien announced as he got into her space, forcing her to address his presence. “You are taking a break.” 

He stood against her worktable, blocking Y/N from continuing her brewing. 

“Lucien, I do not have the mental energy to deal with your antics today. I have work to do.”

“And it will be here when we return. But for now, you are going on a walk in the woods with me.” 

Y/N crossed her arms. “Can’t you find some pretty courtier to entertain you?”

Lucien smirked. “But spending time with a woman who finds me irritating is so much more exciting.” Then his face turned serious as he studied her face, noting the shadows under her bloodshot eyes. “Come, Y/N. You haven’t left this room in weeks. The servants say you ignore every meal they bring you. And Eris…”

He stopped when he noticed her reaction from someone merely mentioning his brothers name.

“Well, we don’t need to talk about him right now,” he finally finished. 

Y/N sighed, and then glanced outside.

When was the last time she’d left the walls of the Forest House? Perhaps some fresh air would do her good. And then she could get back to her work. 

“Fine,” she snapped. “But the hounds are coming with and I don’t care if they bite you.”

All she could hear was Lucien chuckling behind her as she walked out of the workroom. 

———

Lucien had insisted on Y/N wearing a cloak, but couldn’t convince her to put on boots – or any shoes for that matter. 

“What’s the point of a walk if you can’t feel the ground beneath your feet?” Y/N scoffed at him. 

“If you get frostbite and lose a toe, Eris will kill me…” Lucien muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear him. 

To Y/N’s surprise, Lucien allowed a peaceful silence to settle between the two of them as they walked through the forest surrounding the property. 

No guards insisted on joining them, so they must be safe enough to be unchaperoned.

However, they still had five smoke hounds surrounding them. They now sniffed the ground with precision, never straying too far from Y/N. Every so often, they would trot up to her, asking for pets or licking her hand.

“You know, they eventually will learn how to live again and without fear.” Lucien told her gently after some time. 

Y/N just sighed. 

“Humans are stronger than most fae give them credit for. They’re resilient and overcome such terrible things. They have to. Their lives are fleeting, to do otherwise would be a waste of a short and fragile life.” 

Y/N glared at him. “Our lives,” she corrected. “Our lives are fleeting.” 

Lucien watched her carefully. 

“I see Eris told you of our last conversation…” she mumbled with irritation. 

“Well, I had to force it out of him after he started snapping at everyone who dared look at him for longer than a second.” He looked Y/N up and down. “Believe it or not, he looks worse than you do.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, you are always so kind, Lucien.”

“When did you start to think so little of yourself?” He countered. 

“E-Excuse me?” 

“Do you really think Eris cares about you being a mortal or without noble blood? I thought you of all people could see through his mask and see him for who is truly is. And does that really seem like a concern that would prevent him from loving you?” 

“Do you hear how advisors and envoys from other Courts speak of Feyre? To them she is an ignorant child. Hardly unhuman. She still is learning so much about the ways of the fae.” 

Lucien scoffed. “Only a fool would underestimate Feyre. She is the only reason we were freed from our curse. And she may also be the only reason we won the war against Hybern.”

Y/N stopped walking. “Why is Feyre a High Lady? She is the only female with such a title. Your mother is only the Lady of Autumn.” 

“Because Rhysand wanted an equal. He values his mate's opinion and ethics – as he should. He is progressive in a way most fae will fail to ever understand. Could you imagine Beron Vanserra seeing my mother as anything more than his breeder?” 

Y/N said nothing, but openly cringed at the word 'breeder.'

“And dare I say…if you truly believed yourself so undeserving of a similar title, then why do you hide away in the libraries of the Forest House, learning everything you can of Autumn Court and the politics of the fae realm?” 

Y/N glared at him. “I do not wish to be ignorant.”

Lucien smirked knowingly. “Aye. That is precisely my point.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Why are you so invested in our relationship, Lucien? Recently, you have inserted yourself in a way that you have usually avoided in the past.” 

Any mischievous expression that was left on his face had disappeared. He frowned and his eyes held sympathy. 

“I believe my time here in the Autumn Court is coming to a close.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened. “W-W-What? Why?” 

“Yes, my banishment has been lifted. But this place holds far too many bad memories. My nightmares are filled with them. I don’t think I was ever meant to return. I feel as if I was never meant to be in this Court at all...” 

“B-But where will you go? Back to Night Court?”

“Most likely. Being away from my mate – despite her ignoring my existence – starts to take a toll on me.”

“You ache for her?” Y/N asked him gently. 

Lucien blushed and hesitated before he finally nodded. 

“Well, who will I make fun of and torment?” Y/N teased. 

But before she could answer, a noise caught her attention. 

Y/N held up her hand, signaling for Lucien to also listen. Which was silly, his fae hearing had picked it up long before she had. 

“It is just a fox cry,” Lucien pointed out. 

Then a small wind passed through and he knew she wasn’t listening to him. 

“Not just a fox cry,” Y/N answered and started to follow the sound. 

Then she suddenly remembered the smoke hounds that were surrounding them. 

Y/N whistled to get their attention. And they whipped around to face her, waiting for her next command. 

“Stay with Lucien,” she ordered them gently. “And don’t bite him.”

They all started whining, not liking her to go anywhere without them being able to follow. 

Y/N rushed forward following invisible directions. 

She didn’t stop until she found the source of the noise. And just around a cluster of trees, she found it.

A red fox kit, shivering underneath the trunk of a giant oak tree. 

Y/N rushed forward, but then slowed when she just a few feet away. 

The kit eyed her, still shaking from the cold and probably fear. 

“Y/N, don’t touch it.” Lucien called out, having followed her a few steps behind, with the smoke hounds at his heels. 

Y/N ignored him and kneeled in front of the kit. “Hello there. No need to be afraid. I won't hurt you.” 

“Its mother will come back for it,” Lucien tried to tell her. 

Then a gust of wind passed through, shaking the dry leaves like a chorus. 

“No, it’s all alone,” Y/N called over her shoulder to him. Clearly, the wind had told her. “His mother was killed by hunters. He’s been here for days, waiting for her.” 

She turned back to the kit. “Come on, little one. I will look after you. I know those dogs over there seem big and scary, but I won’t let them harm you.” 

The kit let out a little whimper. 

“I know you want your mama. But she isn’t coming back. I’m so sorry. But I will keep you safe.” 

Then the kit shakily walked toward Y/N. 

As he did, she took off her cloak, preparing to wrap up the shivering fox in it. 

“What shall we name you?” Y/N asked the kit gently, as she stood with it wrapped cozily in her arms.

The wind brushed through her hair, and Y/N giggled at what they said. “The wind thinks we should call you Ronan. How does that sound?”

The kit squeaked out a happy noise. 

“Ronan it is then,” Y/N answered back with a smile. 

But when she turned to walk back to the others, Lucien was staring at her strangely. 

“What? What is it?” 

Lucien blinked, snapping himself out of it. “Nothing. It is only…there was once a tradition in Autumn Court. High Lords would gift their Lady of Autumn a fox kit to raise. Obviously the tradition hasn’t been practiced since before Beron’s time.” 

“O-Ohh,” Y/N managed to stutter out. 

What was he trying to say?

“Foxes are sacred animals in this Court,” Lucien continued. “Though they are tricky to tame, once you do, they are fiercely loyal creatures.”

“So why are you looking at me like that?” She asked. 

“The Cauldron works in mysterious ways,” was all he would give her. “Come. Let us get our new friend home.” 

Ronan almost instantly fell asleep as Y/N carried him to the Forest House. The kit already trusted her to keep him safe. 

Y/N started muttering to him as they entered the gates. “We will get you the softest bed. And I will feed you fresh fruit and I’ll sneak the best cuts of meats for you. You will be spoiled rotten, Ronan.”

“Motherly instinct has already kicked in, has it?” Lucien teased. 

But he didn’t expect for her entire body to stiffen. 

“I have no desire to be a mother,” she answered darkly before she could stop herself. 

That was when Lucien put together a whole different argument for Y/N forcing distance between her and Eris. 

His posture straightened and his mouth opened slightly. Without thinking, he blurted out. “You are worried about an heir.”

It didn’t come out as a question; it was a statement. 

Lucien now looked at her as if he could read her very mind, like a daemati. He could see every one of her fears on display. And she just stood their, as vulnerable as ever. 

Before Y/N could defend herself or come up with some blatant lie, the guards around them stood at attention and turned to face the direction of the Forest House’s main entrace. And they bowed slightly. 

Eris stood at the open door, watching the two of them. 

It was the first time he and Y/N had seen each other since the lake. 

And the two of them couldn’t take their eyes off one another. Their gazes locked. 

“Leave us,” Eris gently commanded without looking away. 

All Y/N could do was hear the shuffling of armor as Lucien and his guards quickly made their escape from the front courtyard, leaving her with the male she had been trying to avoid for the past few weeks. 

“And who is this?” Eris finally broke the silence, pointing to the fox.

Y/N clutched the kit tighter. “This is Ronan.” 

Eris didn’t question her further. Instead he blindsided her with a subject change. “You haven’t been eating.”

She blinked in confusion, then recovered by glaring at him. 

“I have respected your wishes to keep my distance these past few weeks,” Eris continued. “But when my guards and servants say you have not been eating nor sleeping, I will ignore such a request.”

“I am fine,” Y/N defied him. 

Eris lifted a brow, challenging her. 

But she was too tired to pick a fight. 

“Come,” Eris gestured behind him toward the Forest House. 

And she begrudgingly followed. 

The two of them didn’t speak as they walked down the winding halls. 

Eris didn’t stop until they were in the grand banquet hall. 

There was a feast already prepared on the table. It could’ve fed a royal party. But there were only two dining chairs set at the long table. 

“This is far too much food,” Y/N muttered. 

“Yes, so you will not have the excuse of disliking the options,” he countered. 

And before she could say anything else, he added, “None of it will go to waste. Whatever you don’t eat will be shared with others.” 

For good measure, he sent her warning look and pointed at a chair. “Sit, Y/N. And eat.” 

Y/N knew there was no use arguing about this. And the smell of the food alone made her realize how hungry she was. Her stomach ached from the emptiness. 

She slowly sat with Ronan in her lap, who was fast asleep. 

“And are you here to simply watch me?” Y/N asked Eris. 

“No, I’m joining you.” He answered as he pulled out the other chair. 

Y/N listened to her stomach and grabbed a few things that seemed appetizing, but also would give her fuel to continue working rigorously. 

As if Eris knew she was already thinking about getting back to work, he commented. “The humans are in good health. I have my finest soldiers guarding them at all times. I even sent some of the hounds there to play with the children.” 

“I know,” Y/N mumbled. Her eyes flickered up to his. “I know you will not let any harm come to them while they are here.” 

He blinked. “Then why will you not rest?” 

“If I can keep helping them, then I must.” 

Eris sighed. “I am not telling you to stop. I am asking that you find balance. You will be helping no one if you are not taking care of yourself. Eating consistent meals and getting a full night’s rest is part of that.” 

“I know,” Y/N repeated quietly. 

Eris seemed taken aback by her submission. He was fully prepared for her to spend the whole meal arguing with him. But it only proved how exhausted she must be. 

Without allowing himself to think of stopping, Eris’ hand reached toward Y/N’s face and cupped her cheek so gently. 

“Please, talk to me.” 

His words were pleading. His eyes desperate. 

Her eyes teared up, but she blinked to control her emotions. “I-I-I’m just tired.”

“Yes, I know.” Eris agreed, but his look indicated that it was obvious there was something more than her general exhaustion. 

“I do not like being away from you,” Y/N finally admitted quietly. “But I know it is what we must do.” 

If she was less tired, she would never have allowed herself to speak such words. 

Eris sighed and finally leaned back in his chair, dropping his hand from her cheek. “What I must do to convince you that it isn’t?” 

But Y/N just shook her head, quietly begging him not to have this conversation right now. 

As if sensing her turmoil, Ronan woke up startled. Then he took in Eris and growled as menacingly as a little, helpless kit could. 

Y/N giggled as the ridiculousness of it brought her out of her gutter of emotions and cut the tension that had been building. 

“Hush. None of that,” Y/N laughed before kissing the top of Ronan’s head. 

Eris gave her a look, silently asking, ‘Are you going to explain this to me now?’

“I found him in the woods,” her voice sad as she explained. “His mother was killed by hunters. I’m going to look after him now.” 

“You have a kind heart, Y/N.” Eris explain softly. “Any in need within your reach, you help. But when will you allow others to do the same for you?” 

She couldn’t answer such a question. Instead, she stroked Ronan’s head and went back to eating. 

The two ate in silence for the rest of the meal. 

Eris didn’t stop eating until Y/N did, not wanting to give her a reason for finishing before she was actually full. 

“I am sorry,” Y/N told him. 

He gave her a questioning look. 

“For worrying you.” 

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I will always be worried about you, Y/N.” 

And they both heard the unsaid possibilities with such words.

If she were to truly leave Autumn Court and Prythian altogether, how much sleep would Eris lose worrying about his mate being away from him, living a life without him? Could someone worry themselves so sick that they left the living completely?

“Come,” Eris stood and walked behind her chair to pull it out. “I will walk you to your bedroom.”

Silence once again settled between them. 

But any time Eris got somewhat close to Y/N, Ronan would give him a warning growl. Clearly it hardly took any time for the little fox to grow attached to Y/N – and protective. 

“Now I know how Lucien feels with my smoke hounds…” Eris muttered with a smirk. 

“You don’t mind that I’ve taken him in?” Y/N finally asked. 

“If it will make you happy, you could take on a dragon as a pet. However, it is not all that unusual for the ladies of this Court to take foxes as companions.”

“So I’ve heard…”

Eris nodded. “Did you learn that from your reading or from my loudmouthed brother?”

Y/N smiled. “The latter. He said the Cauldron worked in mysterious ways...but didn't elaborate." 

His face turned serious. “Yes, it does.” 

They were at he bedchambers just a moment later. 

Eris stalled. “Goodnight, Y/N. Do try and get some rest tonight.” 

—🍁—🍁—

Y/N shot up in bed, gasping for breath from a nightmare. 

She was covered in sweat and had even soaked her nightgown, as well as the bedding. 

Then she looked around and immediately found another reason for it: the fire at the other end of the room was roaring and none of the windows were open. 

Strange. She always opened all of them before going to sleep. 

No wonder she had sweat through everything, her room was like an oven. And the wind that comforted her every night while she slept had been kept out. 

But then images of her nightmare flashed in her mind.

Her sister, eyes staring lifelessly up at the full-moon sky. Her dead child in her arms along with her. 

Y/N had repressed the memory for so long, hardly allowing herself to think of her sister.

But Lucien bringing up motherhood and heirs earlier that day must have unlocked it from deep within her subconscious. 

She shook her head as if the movement would erase the memories. 

Then she slowly got out of bed to open the windows.

But as soon as she would swing one open, the wind would slam it shut. 

Y/N glared at the gesture. “What are you playing at?” 

She tried another window, and the wind did the same. 

“Do you wish for me to roast alive?” 

But the wind was not taking her sass.

Suddenly, a tornado-like gust flew into the room, whipping all the windows open. 

“Go…to…him.” The wind called. “Do…not…be…alone.”

Then the windows all slammed shut in unison. 

It should’ve made Y/N jump, but she'd grown accustomed to their dramatics. 

And they were right: she didn’t want to be alone. And she definitely didn’t want to try to go back to sleep, fearing that she’d see more of her sister’s cold, dead body. 

Forgoing a shawl or robe, Y/N tiptoed down the halls. 

When she reached her destination, her fist hovered over the door. 

But before she could knock, the door flung open. 

“Oh,” Y/N gasped. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you.”

There stood Eris, looking somewhat alarmed. He was shirtless, only wearing sleep shorts that stopped midway down his thighs. His hair was slightly messy, proving that he had been sleeping at some point – or at least trying to.  

“What’s wrong?” Eris asked. 

“Did you know it was me at the door?”

“Of course. I can smell you,” he explained as if it were obvious. 

Eris could also feel her in his heart and his soul. She was his mate, after all. But he kept that bit to himself.

“Right,” she answered, feeling stupid for even asking. 

He took a step closer to her. “Y/N, are you alright?” 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Her answer hurried out, not wanting to alarm him. “It was just…I had a nightmare. A-A-And the wind is being cruel, making my room far too hot.”

But she quickly shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said once again. “I shouldn’t have woken you.”

She tried to make her escape, turning to leave.

Then she was suddenly being scooped up into Eris’ arms. 

She squeaked in surprise and her arms gripped his shoulders by instinct. 

He carried her fully into his bedchambers and kicked the door closed behind him. 

“Eris, put me down!” But her voice was anything but stern. 

“No.” 

Then they were in his bedroom. And though it was nighttime, the moon still clearly displayed the giant windows taking up an entire wall. And they were all open, letting in the brisk night air. 

‘Traitors,’ Y/N thought to herself. 

Then Y/N realized that she’d never been in Eris' room before. Well, she stayed in his old room. But this was clearly a chamber for a High Lord, and it showed. 

“This is unnecessary…” she groaned when Eris walked toward the giant bed. 

He ignored her, of course, and gently placed her on the side of his bed. 

Y/N expected him to jump right in along with her. But instead he took a step back and kneeled in front of her, forearms balancing on his knees. 

“You have two choices: you can either tell me about your nightmare or you can keep it to yourself. But either way, I am sleeping in this bed beside you. Is that understood?”

Y/N was taken aback by his calm, yet unmoving, authority. 

Realizing that he was expecting some sort of response, all she could mange was a stiff nod. 

He waited a few moments to see if she would speak. 

Instead, Y/N laid down in his bed, turning so her back faced him and pulled the covers high over her shoulders. 

Eris sighed and stood, walking over to the other side of the bed. 

He slowly and carefully joined her under the covers, making sure to keep a respectable distance between them. Which was fairly easy with how large the bed was. 

He settled on his side, watching Y/N as she got lost in her head. 

When he stopped moving, the room was filled with the crackling of the fire in the room that was much lower and calmer than the one in Y/N’s room. 

A rumbling of thunder started in the distance and rain began to fall outside. 

“I dreamt of my sister,” Y/N whispered. 

Eris just waited, silently hoping his mate would keep speaking. 

“She died in childbirth.”

He shifted ever so closer. “I thought your entire coven was killed by a nearby village.”

“They were,” Y/N muttered. “This was only a year before that. She had fallen in love with man from the village before the one that slaughtered us. He was smitten…but he did not love her the same way she loved him. Men were not common companions of ours. They either feared us – or wished to tame us and rip us away from our coven to take us for themselves.”

Her eyes glazed over at the memory. 

“She thought he would travel with us, that she could have a family and her coven. It only took a couple of months before she was with child. But just weeks before the baby was due, there were complications and she went into labor. And even with a whole coven of magic, we couldn’t save her. They said that the man had cursed her – whether he realized it or not – and the magic was too strong to save her. He wasn’t even there when it happened."

Her voice shook as she finished. "I held my sister’s hand as the life left her body. Her baby didn’t survive.”

Tears dripped down Y/N’s face. 

“We had a ceremony for her... and he didn't come. It was like he had never met her at all. He took what he wanted, and didn’t mourn my sister. But he was the only reason she was dead.” 

Y/N rubbed the tears from her face. 

“What was her name?” Eris asked her gently. 

A sad smile pulled at her lips. “Neve. Her name was Neve.”

Eris couldn’t help himself any longer. He pulled Y/N to him, cradling her into his warm chest. 

He kissed the top of her head before he whispered in her ear. “I am sorry that you lost her – and in such a manner.” 

“I thought I was so alone after she died. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the loneliness when all of them were taken from me.”

Eris’ pupils shrunk as he got a dazed look. “I grew up in a home filled with servants, advisors, courtiers, my brothers. But…” His words died out. Perhaps it was selfish to compare his life to hers. 

But Y/N squeezed him.

“The worst loneliness is felt while surrounded by others,” Y/N offered sympathetically. “Yes, I lost my family, my coven…but to live as you did – and for centuries! I am sorry for you, too.” 

Eris pulled away from her so he could look in her eyes. 

“Y/N, we do not have to be alone anymore.” 

She gave him a pained look. So, Eris wouldn’t push her. 

“At least for tonight,” he corrected slowly. “We will not be.” 

He pulled her into his chest again. “Sleep, Y/N. I will fight your nightmares.” 

And it only took her minutes of listening to the sounds of the rain mix with Eris’ soft breathing and smelling his autumn scent for her to give in to sleep. 

—🍁—🍁—

The next morning, banging at the bedroom door startled Y/N awake. Either Eris had heard the interrupter long before her or he had already been awake for awhile, because he barely reacted to the sound. 

Though with Eris’ magic, no one was permitted to enter without his permission. 

Y/N was sleeping on top of Eris’ chest as he sat with his back against the headboard and his arms wrapped around her. 

“Eris!” Lucien yelled as he continued to bang. “Y/N has gone missing! She was not in her room and she slept through her lessons! No one has seen her in the house all morning!”

Eris and Y/N shared a mischievous look, but still didn’t move away from each other. 

Suddenly, Y/N couldn’t stop herself from falling into a fit of giggles. When Eris smirked down at her, she stopped, moved away from him, and hid under the covers. 

With a groan, Eris got up and moved to the door. 

Even just the subtle action of opening the door was done with clear irritation. “She is fine,” he growled at his youngest brother. 

Lucien looked over his shoulder just in time to see Y/N peak out from the covers, her face clearly hot with embarrassment. 

“Oh, good.” Lucien’s tone was sarcastic, but it was clear he was honestly relieved to see her alright. “Mother wishes to prepare you for the coronation.” 

“W-What?” Y/N stuttered out her confusion as she sat up in bed. 

Lucien glared at his brother. “You didn’t tell her.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “We both know this is an unnecessary spectacle…”

Lucien glared harder, then turned his attention to Y/N. “An official celebration for Eris becoming High Lord. It will be a grand ordeal, I assure you. And my mother was looking for you to get your dress fittings started.” 

––––––––

Thank you thank you thank you for being patient with me. Also, thank you to everyone you messaged kind and supportive words. hope this was worth the wait. 😅

WHAHHH I LOVE THIS 😭😭😭😭😭 this is so on character too

How unfair, thought Pansy, leaning against the bookshelf as Granger slept. All she did was throw on a dress, twist her hair into some sloppy up-do, swipe on lipstick and she was all the boys could talk about.

One boy, specifically. Her boy.

Draco chuckled, entering the room and noticing Granger asleep on the armchair. “I told her red wine would knock her out.” He walked over, touching Granger’s shoulder.

She made a sleepy noise and nuzzled her face against her folded arms.

Pansy watched Draco’s expression change, looking at her like he was-he was—

Pansy swallowed, looking away.

Had Granger been awake, Draco would have made some daft schoolboy remark about her looking like a girl for once, getting her all riled up. She was insufferably easy to rile up. Pansy suspected it’s what Draco liked about her. He was forever the cause of everyone’s effect. Recently, of Hermione Granger’s alone.

She blamed McGonagall for making them co-heads, hammering the final nail on the coffin of their relationship.

“Maybe I should let her sleep,” said Draco. “She pulled an all-nighter setting up the Great Hall.”

“Then wouldn’t she want to enjoy it?” Pansy humoured him.

“I don’t think she cares much. Everything’s always for everyone else.”

“Explains why her hair looks like a bird’s nest,” Pansy muttered under her breath.

“Granger, c’mon.” Draco touched her exposed back, eyes heavy-lidded. The traitor was probably sporting a semi just glimpsing her knobby spine. “Nobody’s come to get her, right?”

“Not since I’ve been here,” replied Pansy, which was entirely too long. “Are we going, or what?”

“Would it…” Draco paused, and Pansy recognised that sheepish look in his eyes. The one he gave her whenever disappointment was imminent. “Is it alright if I escort her? I think she lied about having a date when I nagged her about it. I don’t…” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to talk to her, Pans.”

“Draco—” She didn’t want to hear this.

But Draco was in his own head. “I was trying to ask her, you know. But she thought I was making fun, implying nobody had asked her to the ball. I should have bought her flowers or sweets. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“Because you’re a coward.”

He shot her an irritated look. But Pansy was through playing nice. “So you’re ditching me?”

“You’re gorgeous. You know a dozen blokes will line up to dance with you.” He ran an admiring gaze down her sleek high-necked robes. But it lacked any desire. “Besides, we already went once together before.”

“Fine. Whatever.” She raised her flask to her lips, telling herself it was the firewhisky that stung.

“Pansy—” Draco started, but then Granger startled awake. She patted her chin, as if checking for drool, and flushed furiously. “Did I miss it?!”

Draco plastered on a mischievous smirk. “We had a blast. Someone spiked the punch and even the professors got blitzed. Shame you slept straight through it.”

“What?” Granger gasped, leaping up to her feet. She noticed Pansy’s eye-roll and smacked Draco on the chest. “Not funny.”

He chuckled, catching her hand and holding it there. “Look at you.” His eyes trailed heatedly down her Muggle gown. “All dressed up. Where’s your hot date?”

Granger glanced at the door, disappointment flashing across her face. “He hasn’t shown up?”

“Don’t worry. Draco’s offered to take you.” Pansy couldn’t help herself. “I mean, Gods knows why.” She strode forward, flask still in hand. “But this idiot,” she pointed to Draco, “is fucking obsessed with you.”

“Pansy.” Draco dropped Hermione’s hand and made a grab for her. But Pansy slipped out of reach.

“So he’s ditching me to take you instead. And you know what? To hell with it. You have him. In fact, you’re a moron if you don’t because nobody will dote on you more. Trust me. He’s unbearable about it. Oh, I should have bought her flowers. Oh, I don’t know how to talk to her. Oh, I should be nicer to her. Oh, oh, oh.”

“I don’t sound like that.” Draco was fiery red now, unable to look in Granger’s direction.

Pansy twisted the cap on her flask and slipped it into her clutch. “Fuck you very much.” And then she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Where she came face to face with Longbottom.

She assessed his navy suit. All broad shoulders and long legs. He was holding a winter bloom.

“You’re Granger’s date?”

Longbottom cleared his throat. He had soft brown eyes. A boyish curl to his hair. “Yeah… erm… is she ready?”

“Change of plans.” Pansy plucked the flower from his hand and tucked it behind her ear. “Granger’s escorting Draco. You’re coming with me.”

(798 words, prompt Yule Ball from twitter)