#after she hunts him down to solidify her place | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mendessi · 1 year

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I see you haven't been active in a while but I'm asking a million people if you could please write a Javi Pena fic where the reader gets injured while they're on a job and he like feels something is wrong or something like that thanks

bambi | javier peña

pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

summary: you assist peña and carillo in tulo to bring gacha down but end up getting hit before the job is finished

word count: 4.4k

warnings: canon-typical violence, season 1 narcos spoilers (go watch it already wyd), kind of established relationship already, angst?, mention of death (reader does not die), tender!javi, maybe more am not sure yet, there is def a little backstory before jumping into the main part

minors dni

You had been in Colombia for almost two years and had fought your way into the position you were in. Tooth and nail, one might add. Being a woman in this line of work, in this day and age was not easy in the slightest bit. You busted your ass in school and in training just to earn a spot in the DEA, even harder to get the approval to be sent to Colombia. Even with your father having a higher up position in the DOJ, it still wasn't easy and you didn't expect it to be.

The introduction of narcotics into the United States wasn't easy on you considering one of your closest childhood friends had overdosed on their birthday trip to Miami that you were on. There was no indication that she had even consumed any drugs let alone enough to OD on, but it happened anyways and when you found her the next morning it destroyed nearly everything in you.

You were always destined to work for the Department of Justice, but something in you shifted after the death of your friend. Once the war on drugs had been declared you knew exactly where you needed to be.

Your bags were packed within an hour of receiving the call of your relocation assignment and exactly twenty four hours later you were on a flight to Bogota, Colombia to meet your new bosses at the embassy.

There was barely any time for you to set your bags down before you were asked to meet Noonan at the embassy. You weren't set to begin work for another week so you could officially move to Medellín and settle down, but there were a few papers you needed to sign to solidify your acceptance of the job.

He remembers it clear as day, the second he saw you walking into the embassy. Hair tied into a ponytail, curly pieces framing your face sweetly. A powder blue button up was tied into a knot paired with light wash jeans that weren't too tight, but were just the right amount of loose, white sneakers on your feet. His eyes followed your every step as you shook Noonan's hand outside her office door, the smile on your face brightening the room. His stomach twisted at the thought of someone like you in the war torn country you were in, wondering what even brought you here in the first place. You looked out of place, like you didn't belong here and that made him nervous. As he watched you disappear behind the ambassador's door, he decided quickly that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

About thirty minutes later, Noonan was at his desk with you by his side. He and Steve both rose from their seats at the sudden presence of the ambassador and the short guest standing next to her.

"Boys, this is your new partner. She'll join you next week in Medellín until further notice." Noonan said before turning on her heel and leaving you there standing in front of the two men that towered over you.

You had heard plenty about them and their work thus far into the hunt for Pablo Escobar and always admired their bravery for what they do.

"Right, hello. Steve." He held his hand out to you and Javier did the same, his name coming out more as a mumble.

"Sorry?" You asked.

"Javier. Peña." He repeated a bit louder and shook your hand, your name barely making it to his ears because how focused he was on taking in all of your facial features.

"I look forward to working with you both. I have to get to Medellín but, I'll see you guys next week." You spared yourself the awkward small talk and removed yourself from the situation. You could tell they were just like any other male in this line of work that were immediately doubting you upon first impressions.

What they didn't know was that you were top of your class at Quantico and could take down a man that was three times your size. You were used to people doubting you and didn't expect this to be any different.

Steve and Javier both were sharing the same thoughts and that was how someone your size could've been approved to join the DEA in Colombia. They kept that to themselves til after you had left the building.

"She's gonna get torn apart." Steve sighed gathering his things. He and Javi were only meant to be in Bogota for the day for a briefing before heading back to Medellín.

About 30 miles from home, they came across you standing on the side of the road, blood drenching your clothes and splattered across your face and your government loaned car completely totaled. The tires screeched as Javi pulled off the road behind you, he and Steve out of the car in seconds with their guns in their hands.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Javi asked, reaching a hand out to you. "Is there anyone near? Who did this?"

You were in tears, barely able to speak as Steve slowly moved around the vehicle a wave of relief washing over him when he saw the deer plunged through the windshield of your car.

"I'm sorry- I'm not- I don't ever cry like this, I swear. I'm jet lagged and covered in-" You barely could finish the sentence you just let out a frustrated groan.

"Javi," Steve called him over and he hesitated before stepping around you.

"Deer." Javi said before walking back towards you. He rested his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him, "Are you hurt?"

"No, it's his blood not mine. Fucking disgusting." You sighed, almost gagging at the sticky feeling of it drying to your skin. He almost smiled at the bad word leaving your lips, almost as if it didn't belong there.

"Here's what we'll do. We'll get your things, you can ride with us and we'll sort out the vehicle situation tomorrow." Steve said to you.

"I have a shirt in the car you can change into. It'll do til we get to your place." Javi said.

You sat in the back seat on the ride home after the boys loaded your belongings into the trunk and resumed the drive home, Javier's sweatshirt engulfing you. They weren't thinking it, but being so used to having to defend your every action to get to where you are now you felt the need to say it.

"I'm not like this usually. It's just been a rough first day." You fiddled with the sleeves of the sweater that Javier had lent you.

"You don't have to explain anything to us." Javier said.

"I do, though." Your replied in a small voice, loud enough for them to both hear and they understood it. You wanted to feel inferior to them, your two new coworkers seeing you so vulnerable before you first official day, but you knew better. They brought your things into your apartment for you once arriving and you thanked them one more time before they were gone.

When you went in on your first day, brand new desk was pushed against the two that were so used to being a duo. You even already had a nickname. You went through stacks and stacks of files catching up on the details of the hunt so far and listening to Javier and Steve tell you stories of what they'd been through so far.

Javier was slowly becoming obsessed with the way you gave whoever you were speaking to your undivided attention, how your eyebrows furrowed in concentration or even how you used your pointer finger to scan the lines of a file. The tiniest things you did were intoxicating to him and he hated it. You caught him staring at you a few times and figured he was just once again, doubting your right to be sat at that desk.

The boys both became obsessed with you in their own way. Steve obsessed with the way you carried yourself in the field. You took charge and never took any ounce of shit from any man that would look down on you. He learned quickly that you were not one to be messed with. Javier was just obsessed.

Obsessed with how your hair framed your face, how you quite literally would stop and smell the flowers while on a job, how you said his name, or how he sometimes caught you stealing glances at him from your desk that was right next to his. How your hand looked as you scribbled down notes from the day, or how you sounded when speaking over the walkies, the look on your face when you were connecting dots. He obsessed over he way you laughed at the things he said and got jealous when you'd laugh at something Steve said. He loved how easily you fell into place between him and his partner Steve, like the two of them were missing you the entire time. He loved how quickly you picked up Spanish as a second language and how intelligent you were. How you embraced to culture of Colombia as your own and were able to so easily connect with the residents of Medellín. He was obsessed with your smile, your hands, the way your waist curved, he was fucking obsessed with the way you smelled. Even after sprinting across rooftops, he still loved your scent, it's like nothing to him about you was not worth obsessing over.

It was almost your one year anniversary of moving to Colombia when he kissed you for the first time. He drove you home after a long day at the office since your car was in the shop and was nice enough to walk you to the door. You knew he was into you, he was the worst at hiding it, even Steve would tell him to which Javier would reply, "I'm not into her and even if I was, I'm smooth, okay? She'd never know."

You did know. And you were into him too, but you wanted him to make the first move. He was so caught up with his informants half the time you didn't know if that would ever happen, so whenever he was ready, you'd be there. It irked you to say the least, that somebody else was getting those parts of him but there was nothing you could do.

But that night you two stood outside your front door, talking about your childhood homes and what you loved most about them, you dangling the keys between your fingers as he leaned against the frame and kissed you. His fingers were soft against your cheek and his lips sweet against yours and you didn't know he could be so gentle. You'd seen him kill people before yet here was kissing you as if you'd break under his touch.

"Good night, Javi." You said to him, as you stood on your tiptoes for one last kiss before disappearing into your home, the biggest smile on your face.

Your relationship was what some would call a slow burn. You took things slow, mostly because between the war on drugs neither of you had time to focus on and nurture a relationship. So you remained best friends and coworkers, alongside Steve who sometimes felt like a third wheel. When the two of you did finally find some spare time, things blossomed so quickly and beautifully and the man was head over heels. Steve had a hard time believing it, but he always knew that once Javi found the right one, he'd be 150% all in. Steve loved that it was you that brought out that side of him.

"Bambi, we're rolling out." Carillo said to you. Hearing the nickname is nothing new after all these years, but it still almost makes you laugh sometimes. Who knew having a deer sprint in front of you on your first day in Colombia would get you a call sign that stuck with you for the rest of your career.

"Yes sir." You nodded and stood up from your desk and gathered your things.

"No, no, you're not coming." Javier said.

"Excuse me?" There were very few things Javi did that pissed you off, but the one that did it most was when he tried keeping you from certain jobs.

"This is gonna get ugly and I don't want you there." He rested his hand on your elbow gently.

"You don't get to make that decision. I'm going and I'm monitoring the Search Bloc. This is the one thing I ask you not to do." You lowered your voice, looking up at him.

"And I don't do ever do this, but I don't like the feeling of this." He lowered his tone to match yours. "Por favor, mi sol." (Please, my sun.)

"Javier, don't ask me again." You pulled away from him and followed behind Carillo as you and the rest of the Search Bloc loaded into vehicles and began the journey to Tolú. He knew there was nothing he could say once you called him by his full name.

You and Javi barely spoke the entire ride to Tolú and it should be known that it was a long drive from Medellín. Even though you sat in silence, he still rested his hand on your leg, his thumb rubbing circles onto the fabric of your jeans.

When you stepped out of the vehicles upon your arrival you watched and counted the men that loaded into boats to cross the bay. The plan was to catch them from a direction they wouldn't expect. Javi was going with the aerial team which meant you were splitting up.

"Hey," he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. "Be careful."

"You too."

He would've said the right words if he knew what would happen once you parted ways. He would've said them a long time ago if he had known. He knew it in his gut as he watched you walk away and board the boat alongside Carillo and yet he still let you go. He should've kissed you one more time. It wasn't his right to stop you from going on a job and he knew that. He let you go because of those words that he didn't say.

You and the rest of the Search Bloc trekked through the sand and the thick trees of the jungle quietly, nobody speaking a sound, guns up and ready to fire. You surely looked out of place being the only woman amongst them. A few inches larger and the gun you were holding would've been too big for you to hold comfortably.

You came across two men and the gun fire started almost immediately. This was something you were used to and certainly planned for long before you even landed in Colombia. You knew that once the first shots were fired that Gacha would try to flee.

You held your ground until enough of his men had dropped and it felt safe to start moving in. Half of those men had probably never even fired a gun before this moment. You stayed next to Carillo, taking the first steps out from the treeline only for your body to be thrown through the air as a shot from a rocket launcher hit the ground near you causing a big explosion. Your gun slammed into your face sending a piercing pain through your nose. Your ears were ringing and your vision blurred when you opened your eyes, looking at your surroundings. You felt the blood trickling down the side of your head and tasted it as it leaked from your nose.

"Bambi, are you okay? Hey! Bambi!" You looked up at one of the Search Bloc members attempting to reach you. He pulled you up to which you groaned in pain, and looked to Carillo who also looked to have a head wound. The sound of the voices and gunfire were in and out as your ears kept ringing but you racked your brain trying to focus on what was happening.

"Sí. I'm okay." You sat up and watched Gacha and his son rush down the stairs and into a red chevy parked under the house while Carillo screamed for a radio. You only allowed your body to be in shock from the blow for only a split second more before the shock was filled with anger.

"Wait, Bambi. Wait!" You clenched your teeth together and stood up, repositioning your gun as you shot down multiple men running under the house screaming in frustration as the red chevy pulled off. You fired at the truck, no bullets hitting anywhere that would help stop them.

You fell forward to your knees feeling two shots fly through your shoulder and one through your abdomen from behind. You turned and fired your gun sending three bullets into his chest, falling onto your back once he hit the ground. Multiple men ran past your body, most likely trying to flee like their boss and eventually the gun fire stopped.

You felt somebody's arms hook under yours as they dragged you back to where Carillo was with the radio. He said something along the lines of Bambi... down... tell Javier... it was all a blur.

"He's down. We'll put the bird down and recoup." You heard Javi's voice over the radio, a small smile creeping on your lips. "What's the situation there, is it safe to land?"

Carillo hesitated as he looked down at you drenched in blood he wasn't sure was your own. He knew the blood coming from your head and ears were from the rocket launcher and he could tell you had been shot, he just didn't know where or how many times. Your vest clearly didn't do its job or somehow so unluckily each bullet managed to hit you in a place you weren't protected in.

"Safe to land. Make it quick." Carillo said cupping your cheeks, forcing your eyes to focus on him. The drowsy and somehow slightly smiley look on your face told him all he needed to know. "I need medics."

"They're already on the way. Where's Bambi, put her on." Javier's chest tightened immediately as if he knew. He felt it the second Carillo got on the radio instead of you, he knew it before you even made it into Tulo. His worst nightmare was becoming a reality. "Put Bambi on."

"Hey, stay with me." Carillo slapped your cheeks once your eyes started to close. "Talk to him." He tossed the walkie to Trujillo who began describing everything to Javi except for what state you were in. You could hear Javier's panicked voice flooding the speakers of the walkie sounding angrier than you had ever heard in the entire time you've known him.

"Put her on the fucking radio!" Javi yelled at Trujillo, he had tears brimming his eyes but he didn't dare let a single one spill. Anxiety was flooding his chest at the idea that you weren't okay, but he knew it from the second it happened. "Please tell me she's okay. Please." He begged.

"Trujillo, tell me she's alive. Tell me she's not dead. Please." Javi pleaded.

Everything was in and out of focus, men shuffling around you, Carillo and Trujillo saying your name over and over again, Carillo constantly slapping your cheeks to keep you awake. You hardly noticed that your vest had been pulled off and Carillo was working to keep pressure to your wounds, but you couldn't even tell where the wounds were at that point. You felt numb. Words weren't words anymore and instead just loads of gibberish filling your ears.

"Where are the god damn medics?" You heard Carillo curse. "We're not losing her."

When your surrounding came into focus once again, Javi was running towards you, taking Carillo's place, holding your body close to his.

"Hey, hey." He said with a shaky voice. "Hey, stay with me. Where are the fucking medics!"

"My love," you looked up at him, those words leaving your mouth for the first and maybe the last time, struggling to keep him focus. His brown eyes were filled with fear and that's when it became apparent to you how bad it was. You were shot three times. Everyone was panicking and it clicked that you were possibly dying.

It clicked for Javi that you were possibly dying. That this may be the last time he look into your eyes, or the last time he heard your voice. That when he woke up this morning could've been the last time he'd wake up to your beautiful sleeping face. Or that today would be the last day you two shared coffee from the same mug at work. Or even that Steve and Connie wouldn't have you for dinner this weekend like they promised. He began shaking his head, trying to rid these thoughts. You were drenched in blood like the night he found you on the side of the road, but this time it was yours and that made him feel physically sick.

Carillo was the only one at your sides now as Javi held you in his arms, tears still refusing to fall from his eyes. Everyone moved away to give space to the normally mean man who's love of his life was dying in his arms.

"Don't do this to me, please. Please, baby." He whispered into your hair. "Please, don't leave me."

"It doesn't hurt." You said to him, your hand barely finding his, squeezing it as tightly as you could manage.

"What?" He asked, bringing your fingers to his lips. He didn't care that they were covered in blood.

"It doesn't hurt." You repeated and all he could do was release a shaky breath.

"I love you," You whispered. Your thoughts were barely thoughts anymore but as you approached what seemed to be death, the only thing you thought about what how he needed to hear it from you before you died. You weren't even sure if he heard it and the last thing you thought of before shaking hands with death himself was that you never got to hear him say it to you.

"They're here." Carillo sighed in relief as the sirens from the ambulances sounded. "Peña."

Javi looked at Carillo who was staring at you, so he followed his gaze and it felt like his heart completely stopped beating. Your eyes were shut and there was blood dripping from the side of your mouth, joining the streams that had left your nose and side of your head.

"I love you." He said to you. "I love you." He said it again and then once more after that for good measure, praying to whoever would listen that you heard it at least once before you died because he was sure you were going to die and he hated himself for not saying it sooner.

He watched as they cut your shirt off of you and began working hastily simultaneously lifting you onto a stretcher and rolling you away into an ambulance.

Carillo put his hand on Peña's shoulder and looked at him. Despite the love his life being sent away, and not knowing if you'd survive this, there was still a job to finish. Carillo, Javi and the remaining men filed into trucks and drove to the scene up the road where Gacha and his son had died. Javi felt some sense of relief knowing that this was a big hit to the Medellín Cartel.

As soon as the scene was cleared Javier and Carillo went to the hospital you were being treated in and Javier called into Medellín and Bogota to let them know that you had been injured in the line of duty. Steve and Connie were on the next flight to Tolu from Medellín and there within hours. Carillo was talking to the doctors because Javier couldn't bear to hear the news that you were dead. It would kill him.

"She's out of surgery, in recovery. She's going to be okay. She's strong, they say. You can see her soon." Carillo said to Javier and he nodded, finally taking a seat in the waiting room chair.

"Good." He nodded again, finally covering his face with his hands as the tears he fought so hard to hold back finally spilled from his eyes.

Carillo sat next to him, patting him on the back as he cried silent tears of relief knowing that you had survived.

A few hours passed and Carillo had left to make his way back to Medellín so Javier was alone in the waiting room when the nurse called for him to see you.

"Hey," You said to him, your throat scratchy from the tube they had shoved down it. His heart hurt at the sight of you. Your arm in a sling, stitches in your temple, two small stitches in your nose, and a bruised face to prove that it was in fact broken. And somehow you still made all of that look beautiful.

"Mi sol," Javi whispered as he sat down next to your bed, taking your hand into both of his, kissing each of your fingertips. "I'm so sorry I let this happen."

"It's part of the job." You told him. "I made a mistake out of rage. It's my fault."

He stared at you, "I thought I lost you. They told me you died twice. Twice."

"I had something to fight for." You said, squeezing his hand.

"I am so sorry I didn't say it before and I'm not saying it now just because of the situation pero mi amor, I love you. So fucking much that it makes my chest hurt so bad that I feel like I can't breathe and when I lost you today I regretted not ever saying it to you before." He rambled on and you could subconsciously hear the monitor beeping faster as your heart rate went up. "I love you, mi amor. Mi Bambi. Mi sol."

"I love you too." You said to him and you never meant it more than in that moment after almost losing your life, accepting the idea you'd never see him again. Now that you'd been given a second chance you'd never miss the opportunity to say it again.

He leaned forward, brushing the hair from your face with the gentlest touch, and leaning in for the gentlest kiss being so careful not to hurt your nose or any other part of your body. His thumb rested on your chin as he held it so softly kissing you with such delicacy as if not to break you and it was the most favorite kiss you had shared to date.

Javier stayed with you and a week and a half later you were on a flight home to Medellín for the rest of your recovery period. Not long after that Javier moved in officially where he helped you recover and still stay sane in the midst of not being able to go out in the field. Your dad even came to visit after hearing the news where he met Javi for the first time.

When you were finally cleared to return and leave strictly desk work to re-enter the field, Javi kept you at his side more than usual to which you had to scold him sometimes but could he really help feeling so worried all the time? Nearly losing you was scariest thing he ever experienced in your life and gave him PTSD to which he still had nightmares about.

It took navigating and discussing and finding time between being work husband and wife to actually taking care of and paying attention to your very real and personal relationship, but you finally found the well deserved balance.

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for the request! This was kind of fun to write and it was nice to write something after so long away

#pedro pascal #javier pena narcos #javier pena headcannon #javier pena imagine #narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena #narcos fanfiction

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skinandscales-if · 1 year

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Genre(s): Urban Fantasy, Action, Mystery, Romance

[DEMO] | [DISCORD] | [RO APPEARANCES]

Skin and Scales is an urban fantasy interactive fiction story hosted in Twine where you choose how your story plays out. Live your life in the big, shining new city as a dragon-shifter and hunt down a secretive killer on the loose, get embroiled in the mobs and gangs vying for power, and fight for justice all while gaining allies and unraveling the secrets of your legacy.

RATED 17+ for graphic depictions of violence, death, alcohol and drug use, explicit language, intense themes of prejudice and dehumanization, and similar mature content and themes

Moments after stepping foot in your new home, you’ve been arrested. And as a dragon-shifter, as the name implies, a human who can shape-shift at will into a one of the few dragon species still left in the world, the odds are naturally stacked against you in the city of Avalon, where your kind is kept under a scrutinizing eye by the King Institute. Left with the last of your options, you are made to partner up with one of the Institutes finest, a fellow dragon-shifter like you, and left with no other choice, you are left to pick up the clues following a sudden murder that has left the whole city shocked and a power vacuum to be filled.

Uncover the secrets of your kind, the underbelly of the city, and maybe, just maybe, meet some people that make this place home.

Variety of MC customization options including their name, gender (with cis and trans options), pronouns, appearance, and more!

Customize your dragon form and choose from one of 4 dragon species (ice, fire, lightning, or venom), your breath weapon (or lack thereof), and your alternate-forms’ appearance!

Explore complex relationships with 4 romanceable options, one poly option (atlas + puck), a complicated hidden route, or romance no one and solidify your new found family!

Journey around a world where dragons have existed for centuries, and all of the complications this fact produce

Determine how you feel about your identity, and how it changes based on your experiences

Set yourself on fire. Many times.

Save the city and bring two split worlds back together

Or return to your roots and change the world forever…

Atlas Drake [he/him, 6’6”]

Working prodigy of the King Institute and your assigned partner, Atlas is one of the most professional and uptight people you have ever met. He is constantly making sure everything and everyone around him are working well within the guidelines presented to him. You, however, seem to be the biggest pain in his side since ‘ever’, and he is constantly ready to remind you of this fact. Maybe you can find a way to melt that frozen exterior of his. Just maybe you can surprise him as well.

Puck Bishop [they/them, 6’2”]

A well-respected scientist, Puck works alongside the King Institute with their studies, and is all the manner of a responsible and put-together person in their profession. More than that though, they are incredibly kind and patient, with a soft smile and wise words ready at any moment. Below this though, lies a more hesitant demeanor, haunted by spirits of the past. Can you remind them of what they have given up? Or settle for gratefulness?

Skye Cortéz [she/her, 5’3”]

Skye is both an enigma and an open book. An extraordinarily bubbly and positive person, she has a very loud personality, and is hard to miss. She considers you one of her closest friends the second she lays her eyes on you, and is loyal to a fault. But you can’t help but notice her uncharacteristic silence when home is brought up, and her naive excitement from the city becomes stranger and stranger once you realize she’s been living here her entire life. Is there anything you can do to tether her? Or will she endlessly drift until it swallows her whole?

Reese Zhu [he/him, 5’5”]

One of the prickliest people to walk the face of the planet, Reese has a bone to pick with everyone and everything. A fiery rebel until the end, he is constantly looking for a fight and considers you a target of his frustration the moment you two meet. However, there is a curb to his aggression, a quietness that he seems consumed in when he assumes you aren’t paying attention. Could you be the one to temper the flames? Or hold on as it consumes you both?

??? [she/her, 6’2”]

She has spotted you. Do you think you can run? Do you think you can hide? Vile creature of the night, monster of the sky, you have no safe haven when this is done.

Come meet your maker, beast.

#interactive fiction #intro post #twine game #twine wip #S&S intro #S&S #twine #S&S IF #Skin & Scales #Skin and Scales #ok I think that’s enough general tags #does shaky jazz hands howdy yall

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vivienne-writes · 9 months

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My Little Fairy 🧚🏻

Summary: Being one of the youngest in the family, Prince Garreth is far down the line to inherit the throne and is more than content to be left to his potion studies. However, his parents have decided to marry him off to a princess he's never met. Or... has he?

AO3: x

A/N: Here's my late submission for Weasley Wednesday! I wrote all this in one go. My brain feels like a sponge. The drawing above was based on a scene I omitted from the story cause it's right after the wedding, and we all know what happens after a wedding 👀 The princess is unnamed, so readers can base her off their MCs, but I had to give her a face so here's my OC. I'm absolutely in love with Oscar Weasley as well (all ya'll in the discord are to blame) so he's definitely making an appearance here, along with a few other made up characters to pad the story.

All was quiet in Prince Garreth's room save for the sound of bottles and flasks tinkling as he examined one after the other, debating which ones to take and which to leave behind. They were filled with an assortment of potions and ingredients alike, but far too many for the trip to his new home. Aurora. A neighboring country that prided itself on its scholars and academic breakthroughs in astronomy and ancient magic.

He had been there once before, on a trip with his father to forge an alliance between their two nations. It was nothing like his home, Camellia, a land of sloping green fields, lush rivers, and forests teeming with beasts and critters. Home to humble hamlets and cities best known for their bountiful trade in rare magical ingredients and plants. No, Aurora was situated high in the mountains to get a clear view of the stars and the heavens, the altitude keeping the nation chilly and brisk for a large part of the year.

Garreth did not mind the weather so much, nor its people. But then again, he had only been a child when he had visited. No more than a boy of eight, if he recalled correctly. But the purpose of that trip had been successful, and Aurora had deigned to ally with Camellia. However, it wasn't until quite recently that Garreth learned of the terms of their alliance. Aurora sought to solidify the alliance by way of marriage, and he was the unlucky one chosen to wed their only princess when she finally came of age. Why him and not any of his other brothers? Garreth had no clue. He'd ask his father, the King of Camellia, but Garreth was still too shaken up about being kept in the dark for so many years that he avoided his father since.

A knock at the door dragged Garreth from his thoughts, but he didn’t deign to answer. He knew who it was, and his visitor never bothered to wait for a response anyways.

“Garreth, are you still sulking?” Oscar asked, resting an elbow on the door handle as he watched his youngest brother take a whiff out of an unlabeled flask. Garreth gave no reply, but Oscar forged ahead, unperturbed by the other’s silence.

“Come on, getting married isn’t all that bad. Look at Septimus! Consort to the lovely Queen of Amaryllis with five children and counting. He spends his days hunting, reading, rearing those adorable nieces and nephews of ours… I’m sure you’ll get to be Potions Master of Aurora if you please the princess well enough.”

Garreth rolled his eyes. "I'd rather be Potions Master here like I've always planned," he grumbled under his breath.

Being one of the youngest, Garreth knew he wouldn't have any claim to the throne. Not with seven brothers and four sisters ahead of him, and he didn't want it either if, somehow, all his siblings dropped dead and gave him a clear shot at being king. Since he could learn to read, Garreth possessed immense talent and love for potions, and his parents supported his studies. They indulged him with a tower of his own, supplied him with everything and anything he could ever wish for, and placed him under the tutelage of the court's Grand Master. He was more than content to have stayed on this path, forging his life by his terms and no one else's. But he supposed there was a reason now for his parents' indulgence. Perhaps he'd go along with the marriage without complaint if they gave him everything he wanted.

“Why can’t you marry the princess instead, Oscar?” Garreth asked, throwing his brother a glance over his shoulder. “I’m sure you’d be able to win her over with that charm of yours.”

"Would if I could. I hear the princess is quite lovely. But father's word is law."

Garreth returned to his packing, dejection weighing his shoulders with a slump. Oscar was right. As doting of a father the king was, there was no swaying him once an order had been decreed, and none of his brothers could save him from this miserable fate.

Oscar regarded his brother with a sidelong glance. Out of all his siblings, he was closest to Garreth, pulling him into all sorts of mischief and saving him from them. But this was one predicament he had no hold over. He had spoken to the king about the matter more times than he could count, going so far as to argue with him. Oscar even pleaded with his mother to do something. The king loved his queen and took her word before anyone else, but she only shook her head sadly. Switching the princess' betrothed would be considered an insult, and Aurora was too great an ally to lose.

Garreth finally looked up, staring out the window as he fought back the tears that prickled his eyes. "I just don't… understand why they'd keep this from me for so long," he finally admitted. Sure, an arranged marriage was awful in itself, but the lack of trust from his parents wounded him. "They could've told me ages ago. Kept me from believing the false truth that I had any agency of my own. It would've been easier to accept it that way."

Oscar bit his cheek with a frown. “Perhaps they only wanted to protect you,” he answered softly, “to keep you happy as long as they could.”

Garreth scoffed. Happy. If the king and queen truly wanted their children happy, they’d let them choose a life for themselves than marry them off to strange princes and princesses. And if Garreth were to marry for himself, there was only one girl he could think of. One lovely little maiden that had haunted his dreams for years…

~~~

“Garreth? Your father has requested your presence – oh dear, he’s not in his room again.”

Lady Matilda rubbed her temple with a frustrated groan. Leave it to her youngest nephew to escape when he’s needed most. “That child’s probably wandering the grounds again,” she muttered as she closed the door behind her, head reeling with all the possible places he could be hiding in. As she turned around a corner, she nearly slipped and snapped her ankle.

"Genevieve, what have I told you about leaving your toys in the corridor?" Lady Matilda eyed the youngest of her nieces, hiding behind a curtain, as she picked up the offending marbles strewn over the floor.

"Aunt Matilda, I know where Gaz went," the child giggled with a toothless grin, her beautiful locks all tousled and in need of combing. "I think he went to the gardens to find lacewing flies again."

“Just because you tattled on your brother doesn’t mean I won’t be back for you, young lady,” Lady Matilda said as she tossed the marbles back into Genevieve’s room with a wave of her wand. “And that hair better be brushed when I return.”

“Yes, Aunt Matilda,” Genevieve pouted.

"Now, to find that little prince," Lady Matilda sighed.

Meanwhile, heat crept up Garreth’s neck, forcing him to tug off his sweltering vest and leaving it to fall in a crumpled heap on the grass. He’ll come back to it later. But right now, he was searching for any sign of a bowtruckle. His eldest brother William told him they liked to hide in the hedges, between the branches that provided camouflage underneath the thickly packed leaves. Garreth wondered what they looked like outside his book's diagrams and ventured out to see them.

But the morning had gone on, and after much crawling and searching, Garreth found neither stem nor leaf of the little creatures and was beginning to turn back to the castle for a fresh glass of pumpkin juice when he heard a sharp shriek.

"Help!" cried the girlish voice, one of his sisters most likely. Garreth sprinted around the corner and came face to face with a little lass dressed all in blue and silver with stars crisscrossing her dress. They were not the colors of his court, red and gold, which all the princes and princesses of Camellia wore. Garreth knew not where this little lady came from, but she was in dire need of assistance as a couple of naughty pixies had begun pulling her hair and clothes this way and that.

“Leave me alone, you pesky things!" the girl cried as she swatted them away. But they returned, taunting her while pinching her skin.

She seemed about his age, so Garreth wondered why she didn't repel them away with magic. Well, whatever the reason, he didn't think the poor thing should be left to fend for herself. So, with a flourish of his wand, Garreth sent the impish creatures flying with a repelling charm. Their teeth chattered, and their fingers clicked impudently, cursing him in a language he didn't understand as they flew off before he could repel them again.

The girl straightened up, fixing her eyes on Garreth as she looked him up and down. "I suppose I have you to thank for that," she grinned, patting down her skirts to form some semblance of tidiness before readjusting the ribbons in her hair. “I shan’t think what would become of me if you hadn’t come along.”

She waited for his response, but Garreth stood speechless, captivated by the stars bedazzling her eyes as she looked him up and down. She was a pretty thing, not like anyone he's ever met around his father's palace. And she was very eloquent, her accent dancing with a different lilt than he was accustomed to. Having realized that he was staring, Garreth cleared his throat.

“You could’ve simply used magic to save yourself, you know,” he mumbled, keenly aware that she was staring just as intently as he was.

The girl shrugged. "I've no magic yet," she stated simply, as if that were a common occurrence, for it wasn't, at least, not in Camellia. Children began displaying their magic around five or six years of age, and this girl may have been around ten or eleven. Her eyes darted to the wand in his hand. "I see you're quite skilled already," she nodded at chin at his wand. "Have you started on lessons yet?"

"Of course," came his reply. "I'm a prince. We're taught far earlier than most." He wanted to ask why she had no magic or wand yet, but it seemed rude to ask that of someone he just met.

The girl tossed her hair with a huff. “You’re no prince. Your clothes are all messy!”

Garreth looked down. His pants were scuffed with dirt from crawling around, and his shirt was wrinkled and creased everywhere. He even had leaves in his hair now that he brought his fingers up to push them away from his sweating forehead. Fighting the urge to blush, he bit back, "I am a prince! I –"

“If you’re a prince, then I’m a fairy,” the girl teased. There was no way this ragamuffin was a prince. Princes were supposed to be stately, well-dressed, and handsome. And although this boy before her was handsome, he was anything but stately. Well-dressed, yes, but his clothes were an utter mess.

“Why are you even here?” Garreth demanded.

The stars sparkled in the girl’s eyes as she beamed with excitement. “I heard there were unicorns here. Is it true? I’ve been walking around in search of them.”

Garreth blinked. Of course, there were. The forests of Camellia were filled with them. Even the royal stable housed a few for his sisters' delight. But if she wasn't from this court as he suspected, there was a good chance she had never laid eyes on them before. Garreth decided that this girl was pretty. Immensely so. And he'd like to impress her just a little bit.

“Come this way. I’ll show you.” And as they walked, she practically skipped with glee, unleashing question after question about the numerous beasts that proliferated the lands of Camellia. And for once, Garreth was glad to have the answers.

As the afternoon drew to a close, Garreth realized there was more to the adorable stranger than he initially thought. Where most of the young daughters of his father's courtiers were shy, timid, or downright snooty, this girl was excitable and feisty. She didn't care if he was a prince or not. She didn't seek his favor or endeavor to please him. Throughout the day, she teased and taunted but always good-naturedly. She asked many questions but listened with rapt attention to all his explanations. About the unicorns, his court, and most of all, his potions.

He showed her the gardens where he got most of his ingredients, and she knew several of the plants already, having read about them in books. Like him, she had a penchant for snacks and shared several with him until her pockets ran out.

"I feel awfully terrible," Garreth said, watching her skirt twirl in the wind now that it wasn't weighed down by candy and treats. "You sure I can't give you some in return?"

The girl shook her head. “Consider it thanks for showing me your sisters’ unicorns. Felicity was my favorite one.”

Garreth nodded. This was the most fun he'd had in a while, and something about this girl enchanted him. Everything she touched or looked at made them seem new and magical to his eyes. She saw the world with a fresh perspective he had never thought to see before… and it made him want to bask in her presence a bit longer. She was magical, this girl. Even if she didn't possess a lick of magic herself.

“I’ve got an idea,” she whirled to face him. “You see that tree over there? Want to climb it?”

"Sure," he chuckled. At this moment, he'd do anything she asked if it meant keeping that bubbly smile on her face.

“Good! Last one’s a rotten egg!” she jumped to a sprint.

"Wait! No fair!" Garreth called out, but she stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder, her thin legs dashing even faster.

Unbeknownst to either, the king and queen of Camellia had been watching their son from atop a third-floor window with an emissary dressed in a fashion similar to the girl’s.

“They seem to be getting along swimmingly,” said the king, giving his wife a thoughtful glance.

But the queen remained worried, clutching a hand to her chest. Garreth was her youngest son. Her baby. She harbored a soft spot for him and wanted him home for as long as possible. With an electrifying glance at the emissary from Aurora, she asked, “Won’t my other sons do? My second eldest, Septimus, has always wanted to marry a princess. He’s a sentimental boy and woos ladies aplenty with his poetry and prose.”

But the emissary shook his head. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I must remind you that while the terms of the alliance hinge upon the princess’s union with one of your princes, it must be of her own choosing. And as such, I have no say in the matter.”

The queen returned her attention to her son, who was now busy picking fruit from the tallest branches of the tree for the princess. While affectionate with his sisters, Garreth has never shown any inclination or affection for any other young girls in their court. No matter how well-dressed, respectable, or accomplished they were, he never gave them so much as a glance. The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted her reverie, and the king and queen turned to find Lady Matilda.

“Garreth is hell-bent on escaping me, it seems,” she began, but the king held up a patient hand.

“No worries, dear sister,” he gave her a soft smile. “He’s with the princess.”

~~~

“Where the fuck is the princess?”

“Genny!” Septimus hissed reproachfully. “Must you use such foul language?!”

“Must you be a bore, Sep?” Genevieve stood on tiptoes, craning her neck to find her future sister-in-law’s carriage amidst the procession trailing into Camellia’s royal court. “I hear she rides a carriage of fairest white and starlight. But it’s too dark to see a blasted thing through this window!”

William tapped a finger against his chin before taking out Oscar's bishop with his rook. "You'd see the carriage if you'd just wear your bloody spectacles," he murmured.

Genevieve spun around. “I heard that! And you know why I refuse to wear them. They make me look like Aunt Matilda.”

Oscar looked up and clutched his heart with feigned surprise. “Aunt Matilda! How long have you been standing there?” He dodged Genevieve’s shoe as the others erupted into laughter.

"Prick," she bristled with annoyance, skipping across the room to fetch her shoe. "Anyways, has anyone seen Garreth? He's the man of the hour. He should be waiting downstairs with Mother and Father to receive his lovely bride."

Oscar shook his head with a frown. “You know where he is.”

“Hiding,” said everyone in unison.

It would have been funny, but their brother had stubbornly refused to appear before anyone, dreading their well wishes and congratulations. What should’ve been a joyous event felt like a death sentence, and Garreth was doing everything he could to stay hidden and out of sight. It was a shame, for his siblings have traveled, or are still traveling, from far and wide to see him and witness his marriage.

“You would think,” Genevieve plopped down sadly beside Septimus, resting her feet on her brother’s lap, “he’d come out and spend time with us before he goes away.”

“If it’s any consolation,” said William, “Aurora is practically next door. He can visit us or vice versa whenever we wish.”

“It’s not the saaame,” Genevieve moaned, hugging Septimus’ arm. “One by one, you’re all leaving me. Save for you, William, since you’re taking father’s throne. So, I’m stuck with your sorry ass.”

“You might be married one day too, Genny,” said Septimus.

“Never! I’d rather be a spinster like Aunt Matilda and serve Camellia to the end of my days. Mother knows I’m too capricious to be wed.”

“Never say never,” Oscar muttered, upending the chessboard as he realized his inevitable defeat.

The sounds of William's protests and Genevieve's shrill laughter escaped the study, and Garreth, who had been eavesdropping for a while now, frowned with a painful pang of his heart. This was his last week with his siblings, and here he was, running away from the sight of them like a petulant child. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't withstand their pity. Their fake happiness. But… if he were to face the rest of his life stuck in a loveless marriage, perhaps it was best to enjoy what remaining love he could get from his rambunctious siblings.

With steady resolve, he plastered on the best smile he could muster and opened the door, greeting everyone with a decidedly cheery look. The others knew it was a façade, but they made no mention of it, relishing in their brother's presence before he was taken away from them forever.

~~~

The week leading up to the wedding was a hectic mess that whizzed by in a blur. From outfit fittings to dining with guests, Garreth was extremely grateful for his siblings' help. Many of them were married and helped him endure the craziness of being a royal groom-to-be. And the ones who weren't, like Oscar and Genevieve, managed to steal the limelight whenever they noticed Garreth growing increasingly overwhelmed by the attention.

Thankfully, out of the dozens of guests, Garreth had not been requested to meet his future bride or her parents. He wondered if she dreaded their wedding day as much as he did and if she was soaking up the last days of freedom before being shackled to a man she'd never even met.

But as the wedding day drew nearer, word of his fiancee’s beauty began to spread like wildfire. She seemed to be roaming the grounds, coincidentally avoiding places Garreth was known to linger in. But she couldn't avoid his siblings' notice, with William and his other sisters claiming to have met her during a walk around the pastures. Genevieve, being the most eager to lay eyes on her, finally met her where the unicorns were allowed to graze and went on and on about the princess's kindness and beauty to whoever would listen.

So much so that Garreth was beginning to grow nervous. He didn't care about his fiancée, to begin with, but… if she truly was the beauty they claimed her to be, would she find him dull and ugly? Garreth twirled a lock of hair around his finger. He knew it sent many girls’ hearts aflutter, but would it be enough to impress the princess?

“Genny’s a right ole church bell,” Oscar groaned from the sofa he was napping on, crossing an arm over his eyes. He opened one eye lazily and watched Garreth fuss over his hair. “I could be mistaken, Gaz, but are you seriously primping yourself right now?”

A flush crept over Garreth’s face. “Shut up, Oscar.”

Oscar bit back his smirk. A nervous Garreth was better than a sullen Garreth.

~~~

Come the morning of the long-awaited wedding day, the palace was awash in the sun’s buttery gold light, flitting through the towering glass windows in soft, dazzling beams. But the entire court was abuzz with servants and nobles running to and fro to get everything ready, too busy to take notice of the sun’s blessing light.

Garreth dressed slowly, his limbs moving of their own accord while servants helped him with his vest and refinery. This would be the last morning he’d ever wake up in his own room as a single man and free prince of Camellia. He wondered if it was too late to hop on a stallion and make his escape.

“Don’t even think about it,” came the gruff voice of the Grand Master from the doorway.

“Professor Sharp,” Garreth swallowed loudly. Even with a limp, his master still managed to come off foreboding. “What are you doing here, sir?”

"Making sure you don't do exactly what you're thinking, son," he replied, ambling towards the nearest armchair. He studied his protegee with an unreadable look before saying, "I know you must be expecting the worst, but you'll come to love Aurora."

“How do you know that, sir?”

Professor Sharp gave a wry smile. “Because I was born and raised there. Everything I’ve taught you, I learned in Aurora. They can teach you things you couldn't learn anywhere else."

Garreth gave a tentative smile in return. In all the years he spent under his master's guidance, this was the first time he divulged anything about his personal life, and Garreth was grateful for it. It appeased his heart a little and gave him something to look forward to, even if this marriage might be as torturous as he expected.

And to Garreth's dismay, the torture started as soon as he stepped into the massive ballroom where the wedding would take place. Grand and luxurious, no expense was spared for this wedding, and the heady scent of flowers filling the room began getting to him. Standing on a dais with his brothers as his best men, he wondered which of them would catch him if he were to faint.

“Quit your fidgeting, Garreth,” William chastised, peering over Septimus’ head. “And Hector, spit that gum out of your mouth before I get it out myself,” he snapped at their second youngest brother.

Garreth rolled his neck, clenching his teeth as the fabric of his coat made his neck itch. He utterly despised formal events. The stuffy clothes, the simpering nobles, all of it got on his nerves, and William seemed determined to make everyone as equally annoyed as he was. Thankfully, Oscar had the mind to discreetly transfigure his coat, widening the neckline to give Garreth more room to breathe.

Garreth gave his favorite brother a grateful smile and turned his face towards the double doors as music began to fill the room, the peaceful strum of the orchestra drowning out the wild beating of his heart as it began to race.

This was it.

The moment he'd been dreading for. But regardless of his feelings, Garreth would push through the day with as much grace and charm as possible. There was no sense in starting off on the wrong foot with his soon-to-be wife.

~~~

The princess clutched her bouquet nervously as she waited for the doors to open. The musicians began to play on the other side, signaling her queue to get ready to walk. Her cold, clammy palms started glistening with sweat, and she took a deep breath to calm her pounding heart.

This was it.

The moment she'd been waiting for. The moment to find out whether she made a good choice all those years ago when she was not but a girl older than ten. She felt soft, comforting hands grip her arm gently, and the princess turned her head to gaze down at her loving mother, tears threatening to spill down her face. A sob from her other side, and the princess wavered at the sight of her father, the stoic king of Aurora, now weeping into his handkerchief.

She was their only daughter. The only girl to have been born in three generations, equally as witty and intelligent as her brothers. They knew this day was coming, and she would still reside in their palace as the heiress to the throne, but it hurt to hand her off to be wed. The king and queen had so many words to tell her, so many ways to say they loved her, but when the doors flung open, they knew it could wait. This day was to celebrate a new love. A love they hoped would grow between their daughter and the youngest prince of Camellia.

From behind her thick veil, the princess could barely make out the silhouette of her groom. All her focus was centered on her feet, ensuring she didn't trip on the extravagantly puffy skirt. While the veil was annoying, it at least shielded her from the crowd's immense staring, as many craned their necks and eyes to see if she was as lovely as the rumors had whispered her to be. If all went well, she'd only have to do this once in her life, a thought that didn't seem as comforting the longer she pondered it.

Goodness, did this walkway never end? Her petticoat was a bit itchy, and she wanted nothing more than to kick her heels off and scratch that itch. The princess focused on trivial matters to push the nagging possibility that Prince Garreth might never come to love her. Oh, she's heard the rumors. He didn't take the news of their betrothal well, and it broke her heart a little to learn that he didn't remember her at all.

Well, no use crying about it now. The grave's been dug, and it's time to lie in it. She came to a halt right before the priest, each of her parents breaking protocol to hug her before sitting beside her new parents-in-law. And when she turned to the priest again, she felt her fiancé's arm barely graze against hers, sending ripples down her spine. Even years after, without a clue how he looked or acted now, he still had the same effect on her.

~~~

The priest droned on about the sanctity of marriage and the importance of unification between nations, and Garreth fought back his drooping eyelids. From the corner of his eye, he saw William reach an arm to pinch Hector awake, and a chuckle escaped Garreth’s lips before he could stop himself.

“Any day now, Father,” he muttered as quietly as he could, and Garreth swore he heard a soft giggle from behind the veil. Well, he supposed this marriage wouldn’t be as bad as he thought if his wife possessed a shred of humor.

When all was finally said, the priest stowed away his holy book and looked to the young couple before him to ask if they would take each other as their lawfully wedded spouse. Oscar sighed in relief when he heard Garreth say, "I do," although knowing his brother best, it sounded a little too much like pulling his nails out. And when the bride finally spoke, "I do," everyone in the room waited with bated breath for Garreth to reveal his new wife's face.

His hands shook with trepidation as his fingers met the soft fabric of gossamer and tulle. He shouldn’t be this nervous. He had no reason to be. But his eyes fell on the bride’s hands, and the bouquet quivered in her grasp. Garreth realized she was just as anxious as he was, and it consoled him. Made him realize he was not alone.

Gently, so painstakingly slowly, he lifted the veil inch by inch, past her chest, her shoulders, then her chin, and – oh.

Garreth's breath stilled, his skin blooming a viciously red hue as he took in familiar, star-bedazzled eyes framed by exquisitely long lashes and the most luscious pair of lips he had ever laid eyes on. Lips that curved in a shy but taunting grin as she dared him to remember her. Remember that distant day of chatter and play. Judging from how he gaped at her, it all came flooding back, clear as a bell.

"I guess you ARE a prince, after all," she teased, eyes still searching his for any sign of assurance. Any sign at all that she did not make a mistake by choosing him. Over Garreth's shoulder, the princess could make out his siblings, straining to catch a glimpse of her face, but one in particular, Genny, waved at her with an enthusiastic grin.

All tension in Garreth's shoulders fled him as he smiled down adoringly at his new wife without care that all eyes were on them. "There she is," he hummed pleasantly. "There's my little fairy."

The rest of the world dimmed away in a blur as Garreth leaned down to kiss his bride, his skin erupting into flaming ripples at the feel of her soft lips against his. This marriage may not be so bad after all.

#garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #fic #my stuff #au #i got the background from pinterest but if anyone knows who the actual artist is pls lemme know

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ask-dawnanddusk · 9 months

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The Serpent Who Rules the Void

"To grow only small ~ Giving guidance for all ~ Seen while hardly known."

Now, the beginning of everything, as you very well know, starts in the Void. Here in this expanse of both all and Nothing, new dimensions spring forth. And it was here, when all was still New and young and being made, with so little realms formed, that Maksviah, already Old, laid her first egg.

We don't know exactly how or why this occurred; perhaps it was the alignment of her powerful magics, or maybe the Nothing wanted a beast of its own. In any case, this egg soon hatched into a shadowy, wispy, serpent-oid child whom she named Teniguris.

The two went nearly everywhere together, as Teniguris was still very fragile as a child. Maksviah showed her son the wonders of the physical world; the cool billow of the breeze, the warm rays of the young sun, the dim shine of the full moon, the earthy scent of the world after rain, and much, much more.

As Teniguris matured and Maksviah settled down, he decided to continue his travels and observed the changing world around him. He loved watching how the worlds grew and all the unique creatures within it fascinated him to no end.

This, along with his mothers teachings, made him fall in love with the world around him.

One day, however, Teniguris stumbled upon a world unlike the others. This one was malformed and lopsided, as if someone had ripped apart multiple realities and stitched them together in some monstrous and unstable thing.

Shocked and concerned beyond belief, Teniguris entered the Void in an attempt to figure out what had happened. He quickly found his answer.

You see, the Void is not only the place where all things rest, but it is also the place where most young Arceus form. Their small, ethereal bodies would, over time, solidify into what we recognize as the standard Arceus look, and they then go on to make their own realms.

Very few Arceus remember where they originate from, however in this case, one did. And they were not a kind god.

This Arceus had a twisted mind, and would hunt down the baby Arceus, so little and fragile, and steal their powers, killing them. It would then use these new abilities to experiment and build worlds that never should have existed.

Teniguris was enraged when he learned all of this, and a terrible battle broke out between the two, magics of creation and distortion clashing against each other.

The battle raged on for many, many months. The two hated each other deeply, and while eventually Teniguris did defeat his opponent, it did not come without a great cost.

The Void, their battle ground, had been nearly empty before, but now it was all but devoid of anything living. In his haste to defend the little ones who lived within the Void, he had unintentionally sealed their fate. They had not stood a chance against the magical waves of power emanating from the two, and had perished almost immediately.

Teniguris was heartbroken when he learned of this. His anger had blinded him, and innocents had paid the price for his ignorance.

He swore he would not make the same mistake again.

—

Over the next few years, Teniguris spent much of it in the Void. He carefully watched over any little Arceus who formed and was so, so careful with them, terrified of harming them as he had once done before. He guarded them, but dared not approach.

One day, however, he gained three visitors.

The first visitor came clad in Diamond and blue, large and unyielding.

The second visitor came cloaked in white and Pearl, sleek and sturdy.

The third visitor came gilded in gold and Platinum, slithering and mirage-like.

These were the first Dialga, Palkia and Giratina.

They had found their way here after many years of searching, and they shook at the sight of his form. Carefully, they approached him, each with their own problems.

The Dialga spoke first, explaining how it struggled to control time and balance all its duties. It had little time to do anything else. Teniguris thought of all he had seen and done, and said that it was not wrong to rely on those who care for it. He advised the other god to approach their Arceus and ask for aid. Learning to balance its work with others' help would lessen the stress placed upon it, and he was sure that their creator would be willing to help. Putting pride aside would be essential.

The Palkia spoke second, explaining how very few listened to them, and how it struggled to be firm with others. It feared its own power and anger. Teniguris thought of all he had seen and done, and said that yes, its power was great, and it had reason to fear losing control. But letting this fear control them would only do more harm than good. Learning to control both their emotions and power, finding healthy ways to bleed off anger, and building meaningful and healthy bonds would all be ways to mitigate this.

The Giratina spoke last, explaining how it had trouble understanding the mortal world, and how it feared that due to its previous violence it would never be loved. Teniguris thought of all he had seen and done, and said that whilst its past actions could not be changed, it could strive to be better in the future. He also suggested that the other Giratina travel the world and find wonder in the mundane. Perhaps it would never be as loved as other legends, however such worship was not something to strive for. What truly mattered was the close bonds it made with others in its life.

The three legends heard his words and thanked him for his advice, leaving soon after.

As Teniguris spoke, saw the struggles of others reflected on himself as well. He struggled with these things just as the young trio of creation had, and resolved to take his own advice.

From that point forward Teniguris worked to better himself in many ways. He raised each Arceus carefully, but with the kindness and firmness needed, until they were ready to leave him. Each one he saw beauty in and loved fiercely, despite how they were destined to forget him. And when they were ready, Teniguris would see them off with a smile.

"We built a world of wonder with our hearts."

#Story Singer Event #my writing #Teniguris #pokemon giratina #pokeask #pokemon ask blog #pokemon art #i think this one turned out well!!

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holly-fixation · 1 year

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An Instinct To Protect: Part 2

Summary: Hojo successfully bred Sephiroth without the soldier's knowledge or consent. Sephiroth took the child and ran from Shinra. Now, years later, he could finally begin settling down. He didn't expect his child to be any different from him, just a young creature with high strength and intelligence.

He was wrong. Extremely wrong.

Inspired by this post by @altocat with many of my own twists

...

Shinra agreed to a ceasefire with the Silver Soldier. It took the former Firsts and the company three years to solidify the terms and conditions, but Sephiroth and his friends were finally free of their grasp. After the encounter in the forest, the father took up camp in the colorful canyon on the western continent. It took time to convince the people of Cosmo Canyon that he meant no harm and would bring no harm. He just wanted a safe place to raise his daughter, and options were thin regarding towns and cities out of Shinra's control. Planetology never interested the company, so this canyon was the perfect place.

For the first year, he purchased an extended stay from the only inn he could find. He would leave Nova there during the day with her own key while he made money through hunts. Whether he hunted monsters in the open lands or the soldiers that searched for him depended on the day. At night, he’d bring her out of the canyon and train her until her bed time. She wasn't afraid of the dark, but she was afraid of being alone at night. Sephiroth stayed with her in their tent until she fell asleep then left to continue his hunts. Some nights, Nova woke up to the clanging of his blade and the roars of monsters, but it didn’t bother her. She knew he could protect her. She knew he was protecting her.

By the second year, the people of the canyon believed he would not do any harm and allowed them both a small home, but the canyon's protector followed him everywhere with a growl, his flaming tail flicking in a silent threat. However, Nova found the proud beast absolutely adorable. Poor Nanaki was not prepared for her constant badgering for rides and answers to questions. He brought these bouts of harassment to the elder of the canyon, but the old man laughed lightly and informed the teen-like protector that she was merely looking for someone to spend time with. Sephiroth was silently grateful when he found the lion-like beast walk his daughter to tire her out, as backwards as it was to have a beast walk a child and not the other way around. Other days he found himself hiding a smirk, especially when he found her completely passed out in his red fur as Nanaki carried her home.

Finally after three years, with Nova just over five years old, the ceasefire was signed. They could finally live in the canyon in some semblance of peace. Angeal and Genesis visited regularly, and Nova practically and sometimes literally bounced with joy when they were around.

“Angeal Angeal Angeal! Are you gonna cook tonight?!” Nova's excitement greatly increased her volume as she hugged his leg.

He gave her a small smirk and ruffled her hair. “Yes, I am. Do you have any suggestions?”

She shook her head like a wet dog. “You always make good food. I trust you!”

Genesis squinted at her playfully, flicking his head dramatically in a scoff. “You always have an opinion when your father or I cook.”

“Don't bring me into this,” Sephiroth countered with his usual emotionless tone, but they could all see his little smirk.

She gave a little shrug. “Sometimes it's nice to be surprised?”

“Are you asking me?” Genesis gave her a challenging glare but she gave one right back. “I get that your father's a bad cook but what did I do?”

Nova glared sharply and let go of Angeal. “Father's cooking is just fine.”

The red head rolled his eyes with a soft smirk before suddenly scooping her up. Her size and age did not phase him. He lifted her with ease as his little way of spoiling her. She pouted at him for his comment but also rested her head right on his shoulder. He gently petted her waterfall of silver hair and watched her resolve loosen as she settled against him. “Looks like somebody's ready for an afternoon nap.”

She groaned against his red coat and stirred slightly. It was the only piece of his old uniform he kept after leaving the company, and she liked the texture. “No…” Her mumble earned her a small squeeze. “I don’t wanna go…”

Of course she didn't want to go to bed; all her favorite adults were here.

“Then maybe Genesis can hold you through your nap. Does that sound good?” Her father suggested.

However, her sleep staining mind only registered one word. “Genesisisisis…”

They all hid a little chuckle at her enjoyment of the name. He adjusted her weight for a more comfortable position then waited until her breathing slowed. “Look at her,” He whispered. “All tuckered out.”

“She's been going non stop since we arrived. She's like a little puppy.”

Nova let out a little yawn before nuzzling into the fabric.

“Are the townsfolk still weary of you?” Angeal chose to continue their earlier conversation.

The former silver soldier nodded. “About half of them are, but they accept Nova like she’s one of their own.”

“Last I checked, they’re concerned about your training as well.”

“A bit. But I will not leave her without the skills to defend herself.”

“Fair enough. Any new problems with Shinra?”

He shook his head. “Not since the ceasefire. As long as we stay within the canyon’s territory, they agreed to avoid any attacks on the town and Nova.” He watched Genesis give his daughter a confused look. “Is something wrong?”

His red brows were completely knotted in bewilderment as he scanned her body. “Does she usually vibrate?”

Now it was their turn to grow perplexed expressions. “What?” Sephiroth questioned flatly.

Genesis leaned his head down and pressed an ear to the side of her ribs. “I think she’s… purring?”

The silver haired man assumed the soft rumbling was just the pipes or from a motor outside, not his little girl.

“Here. Let me see her,” Angeal suggested with open arms and a gesture of his hands.

Genesis gave his oldest friend a glare. “She doesn’t like it when you hold her.”

“She’s asleep. She won’t know.”

He huffed softly before adjusting the child. She fussed a bit as she was transferred, trying to rest her head on Angeal’s shoulder but flinching away from the prickly nature of his beard. Once she settled, Angeal felt it too. “She…is. She definitely is.”

Sephiroth decided to test something. “Nova?”

His call made her stir with a small murmur.

“Nova.”

She made a little noise before rubbing her eyes, her internal motor stopping before she even adjusted her eyes to the light.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded.

“Do you feel anything odd?”

She shook her head. “Just sleepy…” When her father didn’t ask another question, she requested, “Can I go back to Genesis…?”

Sephiroth didn’t even answer before Genesis yoinked her into his arms and sat back on the couch. Instead of fighting or pouting, she snuggled against him and fell right back to sleep. Her purrs returned. He petted her hair to pull her farther into the realm of dream.

“Well,” Angeal started before looking at the father, “It doesn’t seem to bother her.”

“I believe she doesn’t know it’s happening.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily. But she only purrs when you two are here. She doesn’t make that sound without you.”

Genesis held his free hand to his heart. “Then we’re honored.”

Sephiroth rolled his eyes softly at his friend’s joke, but he couldn’t stop his rushing thoughts. “I want to test something.” Without explaining, he stood and left the hotel room. Sure enough, as her father traveled away, her purring lessened and ultimately stopped. When he returned, he suggested Angeal leave for a moment, just to confirm. Sure enough, her sounds faded to nothing as he left. When he returned, so did they.

How did she produce such inhuman sounds? Why didn’t she notice? And why did she only purr with all three of them in the room?

“What does that mean?” Angeal thought aloud.

“Perhaps she’s just happiest when we’re all together,” Genesis suggested as she tugged on his coat innocently. He adjusted the leather around her and she curled into the red cocoon, another soft yawn leaving her lips as she slept against his shirt.

Sephiroth prayed that his friend’s simple reasoning was true.

* * *

A couple days later, Nova could not hide her excitement for her first quest. Her father let her go hunting with Genesis in the canyon. If she could accomplish this, then she could finally aid her father. She could finally fight alongside him as she was always meant to. At least, she was told that by a vague memory of a horrible man in a white coat.

She literally ran ahead of Genesis in search of prey. She wanted to be the absolute best she could, even though her father wasn't watching. He always had an eye on her during training, especially with the small monsters. Now, they were looking for a big one: a griffin. She was simultaneously excited and terrified. She needed to gather five of its feathers for the village healer. Sadly the remainder of the beast was inedible, so her true goal was to carry as many quills as she could in order to stock the clinic as much as possible.

However, nothing went according to plan.

Multiple monsters ambushed them, each far too strong for Nova to damage with her current skill. For her sake, Genesis shifted his full attention to the battle before him. He didn’t see that she spotted a griffin. He didn’t see her try to take it down on her own, only to chase the injured creature as it fled. He only saw her run into the Ancient Forest alone.

“Nova, come back!” He yelled his command as he dashed after her, but she either did not hear him or truly believed she could defeat the creature. He couldn’t track her within the trees, his enhanced hearing only working against him as every creature in the forest completely drowned her footsteps. He kept calling her name as he moved deeper and deeper into the unknown, until he heard her scream. Genesis’ heart sank as he rushed after the sound, but again he didn’t find her upon arrival. What he did find were three Shinra security troops with their throats slit and stab wounds through their hearts.

Nova was gone. Shinra was hunting her. This forest wasn’t within the canyon’s territory. It was free reign for battle.

Genesis rapidly searched for any clue where she ran off to, desperately racing for his best friend’s little girl. He only hoped whatever killer instinct she unlocked could keep her alive until he found her. After wasting too much time, an idea finally hit him. Yes he would confess to losing Nova in possibly the worst case scenario, but at least they could find her.

He would never forget the look on Sephiroth’s face when he said the phrases no parent should ever hear. “Nova’s missing. Shinra troops are after her. She’s somehow killing them, but she ran away. We need Nanaki to track her down right now.”

Sephiroth did not say a single word to Genesis. He moved so quickly he practically teleported to the canyon’s guard and asked for aid. Nanaki sensed the urgency hidden behind his expressionless wall. The protector agreed without hesitation.

Even with Nanaki’s nose, it took an hour to discover her scent not only entered the forest, but it exited the forest. It returned to the direction of Cosmo Canyon, but she was nowhere near the home. Her scent led them to the river between the canyon and a small mountain town called Nibelheim. It didn’t take long to spot their target by the river bank, but something surrounded her. Sephiroth knew without a doubt his daughter was trapped by whatever that creature was, ensnared in a large wing of shaking ebony feathers. The creature wasn’t large but it could be deadly. Thank gods that even with his blade in his hand, he did not attack instantly.

The wing was decorated with a confetti of white and an adhesive of red. Bones and blood. He didn’t understand what he was seeing until he got close.

It wasn’t a creature capturing Nova; it was Nova, hugging her knees with her head resting on them as she sat on the ground just before the water. Her body trembled, her blood stained sword laid at her side with dirt on the blade. The wing only curled around her, but she couldn’t control her breathing. She couldn’t control her tears even through tightly closed eyes. When she finally looked up to see them all, her left eye was glowing red.

What the hell did Hojo do to her?

“Father-” She sobbed, her hyperventilating breath tainting her voice and her thoughts. “I-I don't know what happened- I don't know how- I-”

He knelt down and put his hands on her shoulders. He knew how to calm panic. He’d done it dozens of times back in Wutai with new recruits. “Follow my breathing.”

“I didn’t mean to- I just wanted-”

“Nova.”

She let out a long whine. She was reaching for the wing at her back.

“Nova, breathe with me, alright?” He didn’t wait for her to answer before he demonstrated.

In. One. Two. Three. Out. One. Two. Three.

She watched him desperately and tried with all her might to copy him, but she couldn’t. The adrenaline running through her body left her in a panic attack-like state.

In. One. Out. One. In. One. Out. One. In. One. Out. One. In. One. Out. One. In-

She was only a bit calmer before her father dared place a hand on the newborn wing. She cried and flinched horribly, almost falling back to hide. “Don’t touch it!” The limb was tender and fresh, barely even dry. Even her own touch hurt.

Sephiroth’s hand was drawn away long before she spoke a word. “I won’t. I apologize. We’re taking you back home, okay?”

Nova forced herself to swallow hard and gesture to the river. “There’s something out there, Father- I don’t know what but it’s there-”

The silver haired father hushed her never ending string of panic as softly as he could, but she didn’t stop.

“It came back- it came back- it came back-” She grabbed her own hair, each lock knotting around her fingers, rocking back and forth.

Sephiroth’s hands froze. He didn’t know what to do. He only knew she needed him and he couldn’t let her stay like this.

“We need to take her to my grandfather. He’ll know what to do,” Nanaki suggested reassuringly.

The father didn’t even remember the beast led him here with his red headed friend. He saw his auburn friend cautiously remove his iconic red coat and attempt to wrap the little girl in it.

She tensed and couldn’t hide her cries of pain from the contact against the feathers.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” He spoke softly as he leaned down, finally pulling her attention away from her cursed sobs. “We just need to keep you safe. I’m gonna pick you up, and we’re gonna take you to get help, okay?”

She nodded with terrified tears leaving her eyes. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?! Am I a monster?! Why am I a monster!?”

Genesis saw his friend tighten immediately at the question, all his worst fears about her breaking the surface at once. “You’re not a monster. You never have been and you never will be. I’m gonna pick you up now, okay?”

Nova nodded again yet she couldn’t stop her tainted repetition of ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry’.

He carefully hid her entire body in his coat. Instead of the usual way he lifted her, he picked her up with an arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her shoulders. Her wingless side was pressed against his chest. He felt the wing trying to move under the fabric. “Are you alright, Nova?”

Another nod, but she was clearly in pain, the wing trying to wrap around her in defense but only exposing more of itself to outside touch.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry, little one. We just need to get back to the canyon. I promise you’ll be okay. We’ll keep you safe.”

“Daddy…” She whimpered against him.

Did she just call him…?

Genesis looked to Sephiroth as if his friend was the angel of death from her call alone, yet the silver soldier was already on his feet and marching back to the canyon, clearing every monster in their path without hesitation. Nanaki gave the redhead an almost angry look before flicking his head toward the canyon.

* * *

No one dared approach the party, not with the look in Sephiroth’s eyes. They scaled the canyon to the observatory at the top with ease. The only exception was Angeal joining their little party. He saw the size of the wrap in Genesis' arms and feared for the worst. Luckily, Nova's panicked breath worked to her advantage for once. The sound instantly relieved the former First, but he kept his hopes down for everyone's sake.

The elder may not have known what was happening, but he did have a plan for it. He told Angeal to fetch the village healer and explained that it may be a stress response to Shinra. They would attempt to cure that first.

She was terrified, but she obeyed every command they gave her. She followed the healer to the bathroom to clean her wing with only hesitant whimpers. She sat perfectly still as they analyzed and searched her for wounds. She barely blinked as they shined lights in her eyes to test for concussions.

The lab. She acted like she was in the lab.

They gave her some kind of mixture in a small blue bottle of glass. She needed to drink it a single shot to be effective, and they expected Sephiroth to help ease it through her throat. They didn't expect the little girl to down it all at once, her only reaction was a disgusted expression on her face. Her heart, however, stayed rapid as her breathing drowned.

“Ask her anything you need,” Bugenhagen suggested. “But be gentle. She knows what she did. Do not barrate her yet. After that, I have something to ask of you.”

They all accepted.

“Nova,” Sephiroth called softly and though her breath was much better, she still felt fear. In this moment, the pitiful look she gave him clawed at his parental instincts. He wanted to hold her until everything was okay again. Until she smiled or laughed again. “What came back? What's across the river?”

“The woman with red eyes…” She whimpered weakly, the potions effects already showing themselves. “The one from my dreams…”

The silver soldier was ready to burn down everything past that river if it meant helping his daughter.

“I think… She was trying to protect me…”

His brows knotted.

“Everything went red… I don’t remember…” She couldn't focus past the medicine, her wing covering half her body like a blanket as she looked up through the feathers. “I'm sorry… I can't… I’m too… tired…” She tried to reach for him, hoping for the smallest touch. “Father…”

He never wished he understood how to give basic affection any greater than he did in that moment, her innocent eyes begging weakly as the accursed red glow faded away. He hesitantly placed his hand on the cushion near her head, and she placed her own hand on top and leaned her forehead against it, taking the single offering as a pillow for her medically induced sleep. The pained look on her face lessened but sustained.

“When she wakes, we must focus on lowering her stress. You must do something calming with her. It can’t be too exciting, even if it makes her happy. We think the wing is a sort of survival instinct and she still feels like she’s in danger.”

“Why a wing?” Angeal asked out loud, instantly regretting the words as Sephiroth glared at him softly.

“Hojo did this to her. Whatever he injected her with caused this. I'm sure of it.” He returned his eyes to his little girl, watching her chest rise and fall with each strained breath. “There's no sane logic behind his decisions.”

They quickly silenced.

“Angeal. Genesis. I'd like to speak with Sephiroth alone if that's possible.”

Angeal accepted the request and gave a nod before turning to the door.

Genesis, however, stood his ground. “What do you need to talk to him about?”

“Genesis,” Sephiroth spoke calmly at first.

“If this is about Nova, I want to hear it.”

“Then I will relay the message to you later.”

That tone silenced him. Getting any information about her condition was far more important than all of them knowing it right now.

“...Very well.” With those final reserved words, Genesis left, and Angeal followed.

Both the elder and the silver father waited until the two friends were out of hearing distance before daring to speak to each other.

“What happened to her?”

Sephiroth sighed softly. “It was supposed to be a hunting trip.”

Bugenhagen took a breath. “My apologies. That’s not what I meant.”

His inhuman eyes flicked away. He knew exactly what the elder meant. “...I did not have a single part in making or raising her until I pulled her out of Midgar. She was playing with weights when I first saw her.” He glared down at the memory. “They gave me the choice to raise her. I didn’t answer. They told her I would only go see her if she was a good soldier and listened without protest.”

“Was she trained to kill?”

He shook his head. “Not anything living. She was still fighting training bots.”

“Has she killed anything living before today?”

He sighed. He already answered these questions when they first arrived, but he explained truthfully. “Yes. When hunting with my aid. Nothing more.”

The elder hummed before he spoke again, though it seemed to Sephiroth that he completely changed the topic, “I’m worried about her. And I’m worried about you. I believe you both should seek out counseling here. It may help you and prevent this from happening again.”

“I can’t stop Shinra from appearing in the forest.”

“It’s not about Shinra. Our counselors can teach the skills to regulate and deal with stress in healthy ways. It can even stop episodes like hers from happening again. At the very least, it can help her identify what they are and let her ride out the waves without crippling fear.”

He tensed. “How?”

“First they help you adjust in the moment while together you search for the deeper reason. Usually, over the course of months, you explain your anxieties or your childhood and then-”

“Absolutely not.” Sephiroth cut him off.

Bugenhagen paused before questioning cautiously. “...May I ask why not?”

He pulled his gaze away from his daughter to the floor, taking a breath before explaining as conservatively as possible, “...Speaking of my past gets people hurt. I refuse.”

The elder decided he pushed enough for one day. The man had been through enough.

“I…” He sighed. “I’ll look into it for her.” The gaze on him softened. “I just want her to be okay.”

“That’s all any parent wants. All we can do is raise them better than we were, and hope for the best.”

* * *

When she awoke, her rapid breath and the fear deep in her heart returned to a significantly lesser extent than before. Sephiroth had stayed with her through her entire rest, and watching her panic return stung his chest. However, he had a plan, with permission he already obtained from Bugenhagen. The elder warned him not to speak of whatever happened to her until she was ready. If she chose to speak, he could listen until her fear returned, but he could not ask questions or prod into her just yet. She needed this unnatural panic attack to stop first.

When her eyes finally focused on her father, he offered his hand again. “Come with me.”

She grabbed his hand as they both stood up. “Where are we going? Where's Genesis? I need to apologize-”

“We'll meet with them later,” He led her to the door, but she kept rapidly searching the room.

“Where's grandpa Bugenhagen?” She was hanging out with Nanaki too much if that's what she called him.

“By the bonfire with Nanaki. Don't worry about them right now,” He spoke as softly as he could.

“Where are we going?”

Pity claimed his expression for only half a second. She usually didn't ask him questions until their tasks were usually complete. She was scared of what would happen, needing to know if she would be safe. “Just outside. I promise you'll like it.”

“What's outside?”

Sephiroth simply held the door open, and she left through the open path.

Nova immediately checked her surroundings, searching for any and every threat of the terrain, but at the top of the canyon there was nothing. The only items that seemed out of place were the thick blanket with two pillows on top laying on the ground.

“Look up,” Sephiroth gave his only command.

When her head tilted to the sky, she couldn't help but gasp. The sun was long gone, and the stars of the galaxy made themselves visible once again. Yet here, at the top of the canyon, she could almost make out the color of each one. It was breathtaking, a perfectly clear night with a new moon, not a single disturbance in the sky.

Sephiroth put a hand on her shoulder and one carefully on her wing. She jerked away at first, but she didn't feel any pain. “Is it better?”

She touched the feathered limb with pokes, grabs, and light smacks. It didn't hurt anymore. She sighed in slight relief. “Much better. Much much better.”

He watched the slightest calm in her eyes fizzle to despair that the limb still existed in the first place. Tears welled in her lids as she looked at it, so her father gave her a gentle tap on the shoulder before gesturing to the blanket. “Go get comfortable.”

She nodded hesitantly, trying to swallow her emotion as she headed over. She always had too much emotion. Before she could sit, she stared down at the fabric in challenge. What was she supposed to do with her wing?

Sephiroth originally planned on waiting for her to get comfortable with the new limb before joining her in staring up at the stars, but after a few minutes of silence, he identified her dilemma. He took a seat and held out a hand again.

She didn't take it this time. She was trapping herself inside her own head to hide what she could.

His gaze softened again. She was acting like she was back in the lab. Gods she was afraid. He hated seeing her like this.

“Take your time.” He coaxed her into trying with just a few simple words. Nova gave a little nod and sat down, leaning her head all the way back to stare up at the stars. Her wing rustled in the breeze, its feathers extending to prevent falling to the ground.

They enjoyed a few minutes of silent calm before a question rose in the daughter's mind. “Father, why are we here…?”

He took a breath before answering truthfully, “To help you feel calm again.”

“Can I be calm after I apologize to Genesis?”

He stared at the stars to avoid her gaze, trying to follow the elders advice not to prod.

Nova glanced at him. “Father?”

His only response was a small glance.

Now she looked away too, deliberately facing away from her new limb. “Do you think I'm a monster…?”

She might as well have stabbed him through the heart with the question alone. “No. You are not a monster. Nova, answer me honestly, do you want to talk about what happened in the forest?”

She nodded softly, but he heard her heartbeat increase nervously. “I just wanna explain… I want these thoughts out of my mind… They keep repeating… I just want to stop thinking about it…”

“Talk then. Start whenever you can.”

Another nod came in response before a pause claimed them both. She stared at the sky as she explained, using the cosmos to ground herself. “I missed the killing blow on the griffin... I tried to take it down myself, but it ran away… It wasn’t going to survive its injuries and I didn’t want it in pain…”

Her father sat up as she explained. She didn’t have a desire to kill. She wanted to end its suffering.

She used his breathing technique to keep her heart steady.

In. One. Two. Three. Out. One. Two. Three.

“So I chased it… And I almost had it before Genesis called me back… But I was so close so I kept going anyway…” She shook her head at her own decision and took another slow breath. “Then it ran past three Shinra soldiers and by the time I saw them they already knew I was there…” She suddenly grabbed his arm, using the touch as a lightning rod for her focus.

“Nova,” He called in a small warning. Her heart was beating too fast.

“I can do it,” She denied. “I can, just…” One. Two. Three. “I tried to run but they chased me… I was so so scared… They didn’t use any magic or their guns for a while but then a bullet just missed me and…” She squeezed his arm and squeezed her eyes closed. The stars would not protect her from this. “I saw her… I saw the thing from my dreams and she grabbed my neck and everything went red- and then I was in the canyon and there was blood on my sword- and I was too scared to go home- and when I ran away- I felt this pull in my chest- and when I made it to the river- the wing came out- and it hurt so much- and-”

Tears fell from her eyes and he grabbed her shoulders to pull her attention away. “Nova, stop.”

She obeyed, stopping her explanation but not her flood of memories..

Damn it he was supposed to keep her calm. The fear and panic in her eyes only increased with each word as she relayed the events of the incident. He should have stopped her sooner.

“F-Father…” she cried as she tightly grasped his arm. “Can you pick me up…? Please…?”

She always felt safe in his arms.

He stood and lifted her up, keeping his hands on her only as support. He didn’t know what else he could do but her sobs peaked quickly as tears dropped into the fabric of his shirt. He walked around the top of the canyon with her in his arms, hoping the motion soothed her even a little.

He didn't want to tell her that the same nightmare creature grabbed him as a child. He remembered fighting it off, screaming, kicking, clawing, completely forgetting it wasn't real. Only when the lab techs finally tranquilized him did he truly see who he attacked: the brown haired woman and little girl with a pink bow that Hojo took far too much interest in. He didn't want to hurt them but his fear made him. Yet Nova didn't remember killing the troops or leaving the Ancient Forest. This was different. Why did her sight only go red? Why did her eye glow red?

Nova was far too fragile to answer these questions now. Her breath regulated, and her mind calmed a bit. She just held her father tightly, her wing wrapping around his shoulders and aiding her squeeze. The feathers were warm and soft.

Eventually, he managed to hush her into worriless silence. He coaxed her into laying next to him and staring calmly at the universe before them. With each passing moment of her eyes on the stars, she seemed more and more tranquil. This did not stop her from asking every question she had, however. Luckily Sephiroth knew the answers to nearly all of them. He always loved the stars too. He studied them as much as Hojo allowed in his youth, and he certainly made time for the occasional book on the topic during his time in SOLDIER.

Some of her questions were still fairly complex considering all the time she spent with Nanaki and subsequently Bugenhagen. He answered as best he could to slow her questions and keep her from getting too excited.

He wasn't sure when, but he felt exhaustion grow in her tiny body, her heartbeat slowing and her breath deepening as she began falling into a real rest rather than a chemically induced one.

“Are you ready to go home?” Sephiroth asked softly, trying not to disturb her too much.

Nova shook her head. “I wanna stay by the stars…”

It was such a beautiful night. Why would he dare argue with her, even as she fought her own eyelids open? Not much time passed before she curled herself into her own wing and leaned against him, her purrs violently returning. Now he felt the vibrations against him. This sound was much stronger than before, and judging by the frustrated and fearful look on his daughter’s face, she felt it too.

He swallowed before forcing himself to tell her what she needed to hear. “You’re okay. You’re not a monster. And Genesis thinks your purring is cute.”

She barely murmured with small surprise, “really…?”

Sephiroth nodded. “Really.”

Nova gave a small hum in response. She didn’t last much longer. Sephiroth waited until he was certain she would not wake before wrapping her in his long coat and carrying her home.

* * *

Days passed of trying to calm Nova enough to trigger some kind of reaction with the wing. A normal life would be impossible to manage with the extra limb no matter how cool or fluffy people claimed it to be. Sephiroth and Genesis purchased her new shirts and dresses that wouldn’t interfere with the wing. Angeal just tried to make her comfortable by cooking as many meals as he could for her. Nova spent her few hours alone with Nanaki hidden in alleys and just talking. Any time she dared lay next to him or fall asleep on him, she’d purr.

In fact, she purred almost constantly now. Instead of a subtle hum the former Firsts could barely hear, she was unignorable and unavoidable, as if standing next to a washing machine. Despite the abnormal nature, Genesis couldn’t help but make it his mission to make her purr as loudly as possible. He’d wrap her in the fluffiest blankets he could find, and she’d giggle from the fuzzies along her skin in response. He’d trap her in his lap before tickling her until she couldn’t stand it. He’d coax her into sleeping against him, petting her hair and her feathers. The louder she purred, the more accomplished he felt.

Nova spent a lot more time with Genesis than either Angeal or even her father due to the wing. Instead of silently encouraging her to be calm enough to send the wing away, if that was even possible, Genesis sneaked her out at night and sparred with her. He told her to try to use the wing in any way that felt natural. Of course he didn’t expect her to fly away or anything. She probably couldn’t fly at all with only one wing. Nova may have sorta accidentally called Genesis ‘Dad’ during these little hidden sessions. Though she was terribly embarrassed when the word fell from her lips, Genesis cherished the moment.

It took three weeks for the wing to dissipate into a swirl of black magic and feathers right in front of all of their eyes. Sephiroth hugged her tighter than he ever had that day, and she was so happy.

She can be normal. She can be normal.

Nova hugged him back with no knowledge of his internal worries. She told him she was thankful it was gone, but that it was still there. She felt it lying in wait in her back, ever present but not pressured to release.

Sephiroth just kept her close. It was the first time he hugged her that he didn't feel like a copy or a mimic. He did what felt right and held her in his arms until his own heart calmed.

Thanks for reading!

#sephiroth #sephiorth does not know how to raise a normal small child #he is not prepared for this to very much not be a normal child #ffvii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 genesis #red xiii #angeal hewley #ffvii angeal #ff7 angeal #ff7 crisis core #crisis core #ffvii crisis core #An Instinct to Protect

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lesbiankendall · 2 years

Note

(sa and tom-hating tw) i do think it’s relevant that when tom turns down sex with shiv she notices and says hey seems like you’re not into this but when she turns down sex she has to physically move away from him (not to say she’s like super observant super attuned, the hints he gives are pretty big but like, so are her hints he ignores- i’m thinking janitors and beginning of vaulter). not that this necessarily connects but tom “woman in the relationship” my ass

YEAH another moment when he turns down sex is when he's miffed that shiv's still using contraceptives:

(note shiv's face here.)

season 3 really drove home the point about shiv experiencing misogyny: from her father, from her brothers, from waystar employees and from her husband reducing her to her reproductive organs. of course, tom wanting kids from shiv stems from logan's "emasculating" comment to him wanting grandkids in hunting and tom thinking this is just another way to solidify his place in the roy family. however, it's very telling that the first thing he latches onto when he's wavering and scared is asserting his place as the "man" of the relationship by demanding shiv give him kids.

and in the next episode shiv looks equally as horrified when tom admits to tracking her period:

and this moment in the same episode, after he's admitted to wanting a kid from her:

the context here being that it's after her dad has publicly humiliated her and dismissed her efforts.

i dunno, i feel like reducing both shiv and tom to malecoded and femalecoded respectively feels like it's misunderstanding both their characters. and it feels like people label tom as "femalecoded" just to excuse and woobify his actions and firmly put him in the "victim" box (which is another can of worms) and to villainize anything shiv's done.

#kjf;dskjfslkgkdf sorry i've been drinking does this even make sense <3 #and dw this definitely a tom hating safe place <3

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wickedsrest-rp · 1 year

Text

Name: Boyd Adkinson Jr. Species: Hunter (Warden) Occupation: Bartender at the Wormhole Age: 36 Years Old Played By: Knifes Face Claim: Oliver Jackson-Cohen

"I may be down, but don’t count me out just yet."

Born and raised in Gatlin Fields, Boyd grew up with sheep shears in one hand, and an iron blade in the other. When he wasn’t tending to the flock on his family farm, he was learning from Boyd Sr. just which fae were merely a nuisance, and which were a true threat to house and home. As a teen, he started offering his services as a side job. Sometimes that meant ridding a chicken coop of a leprechaun infestation. Other times, he would be keeping a gremlin from tampering with farm machinery. His folks wanted him to keep up the family business, but someone had caught his eye.

Boyd and his high school sweetheart were head over heels. Like a lovesick puppy, he’d follow her to the ends of the earth. She was due to relocate with her family—her dad had been reassigned to a new office��and Boyd picked up and moved right along with her. When her family settled into Cheyenne, Wyoming, Boyd was right there with her. He found work easily enough, coming from a farming background, at a local ranch. There, he took an interest in the rodeo scene. It wasn’t long before he was bulldogging at county fairs and working his way to making a name for himself.

It didn’t take anyone by surprise when Boyd and his sweetheart married. The first few years were bliss. She came out to every rodeo she could to support him, and he did his best to call and come home whenever he could. But a rodeo man doesn’t stay in one place for long. As he moved from rodeo to rodeo, he brought back the side business of hunting nuisance fae for farmers in the areas he traveled. He even worked out a new technique of taking down bigger species using the same moves he would to take down a steer. His rodeo and hunting careers soared while his marriage, just a few years off the ground, faltered. Love took a backseat to his flourishing career. Just as the wedding was no surprise, it didn’t surprise anyone when the divorce was filed either.

Boyd Adkinson Jr. became somewhat of a name in the rodeo scene. For years, he did alright for himself, winning saddles and trophies, and basking in it all. But bulldogging takes a toll on the body, and eventually Boyd started to hit a wall. How many more injuries could he take without grinding his career to a halt entirely? He’d broken too many bones to count, and had near constant aches and pains. For being in his 30s, he felt decades older. The passing of his mother only solidified his need for a break. His father couldn’t manage the farm all by himself. Boyd went back home to help his dad, and pick back up where he’d left off. He’d forgotten just how prominent the fae problem was in Wicked’s Rest. When his father passed a year later, it sealed his early retirement. Cutting back focus on the farm, Boyd threw himself deeper into the hunting business. Where he had only focused on nuisance fae in the past, he started going after bigger and badder quarry now. If the rodeo taught him anything, it was that he could handle his own. Or he thought he could.

He was keyed up from a job, and adrenaline coursed through him. When he heard a gasp from behind him, he didn’t think. He just took the blade in his hand and acted. But they weren’t a foe. They weren’t a fae. They were human, and he had just broken the unspoken law. He killed an innocent human in a blind panic. The Allgood pit had been an obvious choice, and no one was onto him yet. But now, every time he closes his eyes, he sees the shock and the terror on their face. He can’t escape it. There was a police report filed, and it could be a matter of time before they tie it back to him. He’s lost sleep, and it’s starting to feel like he’s losing himself, too.

Character Facts:

Personality: Regretful, enigmatic, reflective, empathetic, amiable

Boyd lives in Gatlin Fields on the family farm, though much of the land has been leased to adjacent farms.

He has a handful of chickens, a treeing walker named Sam, a barn cat he calls Cat, and his former rodeo horse, Roach.

He’s been driving the same 1990 Ford F-250 for years and repairing what he can to keep it running. It’s seen better days, but it’s still kicking. Sam can often be found hanging out the passenger window.

His weapon of choice is a WWI style iron trench knife, handed down to him by his grandfather. It currently sits buried in his sock drawer following the incident.

While he isn’t the best cook, he’s always making something for himself. His pantry is always stocked with Oatmeal Cream Pies.

#retired

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bittykimmy13 · 2 years

Text

Whiskey and Wine (18+)

A Dark Future AU Story

Synopsis: Cliff and Zia’s undeniable sexual tension finally spurs her to make her move while they share a drink. But is Cliff ready to embrace his feelings, or will he close himself off for her protection?

Word count: ~10k

Co-written by the lovely @marydublinauthor 💕

🚫Warning: Explicit sexual content (consensual). Minors DNI 🚫

Not long after being more acquainted with Cliff, Zia learned that he had very different associations with the full moon than she did. Full moons for him meant hunts. Gashers, witches, bloodthirsty creatures that drew power on the brightest night of the cycle.

Thankfully, Sylvia had made him at least somewhat aware that fairies were just as entranced by the full moon without being the bloodthirsty type—a solid percentage of them, at least.

The first full moon after equinoxes and solstices drew out the most passionate revelries in the safe house. Music, dancing, firelight, and food until the moon vanished from sight. This year’s autumn revelry had more newcomers than ever—rescues and wanderers who had found themselves a home, a place where they wouldn’t have to hide for fear of capture.

There was joy and lighthearted chatter around every corner, but Zia soon slinked away when she realized that—once again—Cliff wasn’t coming.

After a brief and fruitless search of the main rooms, Zia veered toward Cliff’s car in the surrounding woods. He cycled through vehicles frequently, but he always parked under the same tree a calculated distance from the main building. He often came here for a reprieve from feeling as he so lovingly put it—a giant ogre crashing the party.

Zia dipped lower through the branches. The engine was off and the front windows were rolled all the way down, letting in the crisp evening air. Cliff’s strong frame was slumped back in the driver’s seat, a glass of bourbon at his lips. He spotted her mid-swig, eyes fixing onto her with that eerie vigilance of his.

Cliff barely reacted as Zia landed on the steering wheel. His comfortable silence meant she was welcome. For a short while, she joined him in contemplative quiet. She understood why he liked it out here. The woods were serene as they settled into the evening. The remaining greenery of summer still clung to the intertwined branches overhead, scenting the air with dewy freshness. The encroaching shadows must’ve felt more like old friends to him after all his time working in the dark.

She broke the silence in a gentle voice. "Dinner turned into quite the event.” When Cliff stayed quiet, she stole a sidelong look at him. “I’ll be honest, I was expecting more of a fuck off, let a guy sit in peace kind of greeting,” Zia went on, puffing up her shoulders to imitate his gruff tone. “You’re getting soft.”

To her delight, this finally goaded a reluctant smirk out of him. “I could hear it was you coming,” Cliff said. When she threw him an inquisitive look, he suddenly lost the ability to look her in the eye. “You fly in bursts. You take these little pauses, always looking around before you pick your route somewhere.”

He seemed almost embarrassed by the observation. She willed her heart to stop stammering like a baby hummingbird. He had memorized her flight pattern.

Cliff cleared his throat. “So, is Taylor telling that same tall tale of hers?”

She groaned dramatically. “Only to every soul that will listen. I must’ve heard a dozen times by now how she made the ancient magics proud with her bravery in drowning the guards in white.”

Cliff chuckled in his throat. “You forgot about the sea monster.” He quirked his eyebrows as he refilled his glass with another half inch.

“Of course. How could I forget about the mighty sea monster?”

They shared another laugh. She leaned out, catching his eye.

“It might be good for you to relax with everyone tonight before Erik returns tomorrow.” Her stomach churned anxiously at the thought. Everything would change once the plan was solidified.

Cliff shook his head. “Enjoy it for me.”

“And leave this bucket of fun? I don’t think so.” She folded her legs on the steering wheel and wiggled to make herself comfortable. She was hoping this would make him smile again, but his expression darkened instead.

“Honestly, Zee, you shouldn’t have come out here in the first place.” He glared out into the woods. “Don’t give them more to talk about.”

“Oh. Don’t listen to them, Cliff.”

“I’m not worried about me.”

She recoiled at the rise in his voice. Their gazes locked hard and knowingly. She wasn’t deaf to the tasteless gossip that circulated around the safe house—usually from new rescues that had been too abused to see anything but wickedness in any human being. Even their own savior.

She hadn’t known that he had heard too.

She would catch her name on hushed voices in the kitchens and in the dormitory hallways. The disgusted glances at her when she left his bedroom after a healing.

More infuriating, the way they would speak of Cliff. He saved them from captivity and they declared him a sadist, convinced he was forcing Zia’s abilities and using her for his own pleasure behind closed doors. It was only a matter of time, many were assured, before he got bored of Zia and picked another victim from the lot of them living there.

The lewd monster and the human-loving whore. What a pair.

“It’s just petty gossip,” she offered in a weak voice.

“It’s not fair to you,” Cliff said. “It’s all fucking ridiculous.”

“I don’t know… The one about you being the devil’s nephew is pretty amusing.”

His expression remained stony, and he still wouldn’t look at her, so she flew to the window. Zia landed by his arm to lay her hand on his knuckle.

“Hey. Fuck them.” She squared her jaw, daring him to muster the audacity to say otherwise.

Zia lowered her gaze, observing her hand on his. She didn’t want to admit that some of the whispers rang with truth. How often she wished Cliff would ask her to stay after a healing. To pull her back with need in his eyes and invite her into his bed.

But he always let her leave afterward.

Zia gave his knuckle a reassuring pat and put some space between them. She nodded at the glass in his hand. “Can I have some of that?”

Cliff debated at length. “Not this.”

She snapped her wings open as he moved to get out of the car. He rummaged around in the trunk and returned with an unopened wine bottle.

She frowned at the elegant label. While she didn’t know much about human wine, she certainly had never seen Cliff carrying something like this around. The moment he opened the bottle, the drink’s sweetness filled the air. With a practiced hand, Cliff poured a little wine into the cap and held it out to her.

“Since when do you drink anything but whiskey?” She carefully took the cap in her arms.

Finally, the faintest hint of smile flickered on his face. “I drink water. Sometimes.”

“This is not water.”

He shrugged. “What? I’m just making up for drinking your stash of Liam’s wine.”

“You were doing me a favor, believe me,” she snorted. Gazing down at the full cap, she willed her heart to stop doing backflips at the thought that he would go out of his way to get his for her.

His hand lifted toward her, quick but steady, and he pushed the wine closer to her. “How ‘bout you try before you start thanking me? It’s a French port.”

She took a sip, and her eyes widened with delight.

“There you go,” he said. “At least you’re not twisting your face up like you usually do with my drinks.”

“The bar is low,” she said playfully.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He went back around to the driver’s side to grab his whiskey from the cupholder, then made his way to the front of the car to take a seat on the hood.

Keeping her short bursts of flight to a minimum to protect her drink, Zia flew to him without spilling a drop of wine. He rested the back of his hand on his lap, opening up his palm. Smiling at the invitation, she took a seat.

“You really like it?” Cliff asked. His tone was nonchalant yet carefully composed. His index finger tapped a quick rhythm on his glass.

“It’s delicious.” She pretended not to notice how his hand relaxed beneath her. Taking another taste of the wine, she shook her head. “I can’t believe you’d go for something so fruit-forward.”

Another smile flickered. “I gagged on the sample they had at the store, so I knew it’d be perfect for you.”

“Hey! I know you’re not saying I have bad taste.”

“I’m sure your taste is just fine.” He gave her a lingering look—one that might have gone unnoticed if she wasn’t always looking for it. That quick way his eyes scanned up and down her body before he caught himself. The spark in his gaze vanished before it could fully form.

“You’re sweet, you know,” she said, lifting the cap to her lips.

“You might be the only one who thinks so."

Zia spoke thickly around her next swig—stars, this stuff was good. “You know what? Maybe that's not a bad thing. I kinda like the idea of keeping some of your secrets for myself."

"Really?" He gave a pleased chuckle. "What else?"

She leaned back, hugging the cap to her front. Maybe she was a human-loving freak for enjoying the way she had to crane her neck to see his face.

“Oh, I can’t give it all away. Then you’d know.”

“Should I be worried?”

“Very.”

Cliff lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll have to pry it out of you.”

His skin against her folded legs suddenly felt unbearably hot. Do it, she begged silently. Pry, grab, hold, take.

“How do you imagine you’ll do that?” she asked.

“Dunno. You are pretty intimidating. Guess I’ll be sleeping with one eye open tonight.”

She chuckled softly and sipped again, slower. Whatever human vineyard this came from, it was strong. “Hey. You should try this again.”

“You’re a sadist,” he groaned.

“Maybe you’ll like it this time!”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand moved off his lap, ferrying her towards his face. He set his glass aside to take the cap from her and put it to his lips.

Zia gasped and lunged. “I said a sip! You’re drinking the whole thing!” she said, giggling. She leaned over the gap between his hand and his face, wings taut against her back.

“This is a sip for me,” Cliff said smugly, voice a rumble around her.

She braced her hands against his jaw while he twisted away to dodge her half-hearted attempts to thwart him.

“You’re an asshole.” She finally wrenched the empty cap away from him, grinning breathlessly.

“Hm. I did like it a little better that time.”

His deep voice sent pleasant shudders through her belly, and Zia lost interest in the cap when she found herself still so close to Cliff’s face. Her hands were still on his chin for balance.

She didn’t think about it—she always thought too long. And it wouldn’t take much this time. She shifted her palm flat against his skin until it found the corner of his mouth.

With sacred slowness, she traced Cliff’s lower lip. He was so soft here, a delicate contrast to the prickle of his cropped beard. His jaw went slack and his breathing stopped. She had to remember to breathe herself. Zia felt his thumb rest on her waist. She could smell the whiskey and wine on his tongue.

He lowered his hand without warning. In a blink, gravity had whisked her to a seat in his palm and she found herself staring at the hem of Cliff’s leather jacket instead of his oh-so-kissable lips.

“I’ll, uh, get you a refill,” he mumbled.

“Cliff, wait!” Zia flew into his path. Her voice cracked with desperation. “Wait, please. Can… Can we talk?”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

“You know that’s not true!” She chucked the cap aside, where it clattered inconsequentially onto the hood of the car. Her breaths shuddered as she faced him now. It was too late to pull back. And she didn’t want to.

“I… I know you feel this thing between us. It’s been there for a long time and we’ve never talked about it, and I think we should.”

He didn’t say a word, and it was so much worse than any cruel rejection she had conjured in her dark daydreams. Hot tears swam and blurred her view of him, but she saw Cliff’s shoulders sag.

“I’m sorry,” Zia said. “I’m not trying to upset you. Maybe this is selfish of me, but I’m just so… tired. I’m tired of pretending I’m not completely in love with you.” She rubbed at her puffy eyes with her sleeve. “Please say something.”

“Zee, we can’t,” Cliff muttered at last.

“Why?” she croaked. “Because we’re different?”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. It’s irrelevant.”

“Bullshit!”

“We’re fighting a fucking war,” he bit out. Her breath caught. There was fire in his eyes, but not the kind she’d hoped to see. “The people I’m closest to wind up dead, while I have to stick around and pick up the pieces without them!” He clutched a hand to his chest. “I make space for people, and then… and then they’re gone, and that space never closes. Do you understand? You’ll be next if you’re not careful.”

“You think I don’t know how that feels?” she said, more pleading than angry. “Cliff, there’s a war with or without you. Why should that stop us?”

“Because we could have days—hours—left at any given moment. And there is no us.”

Her heart gave a very tangible twinge at the venom laced behind the words. “I don’t care. I want to spend every single last minute with you.” Zia flew closer insistently, even when he averted his gaze. “Don’t we deserve to be happy? To feel good?”

He shook his head. “I don’t,” he said softly. “And anyway, you deserve more. Much more.”

Her jaw clenched painfully. “Is that supposed to be inspiring? Putting everyone else in the world before yourself doesn’t make you a hero. It makes you afraid to live. Stop punishing yourself and realize that this— all this giving up and being scared that you’ll find happiness—is worse than losing it.”

Cliff said nothing, staring hard at the forest floor like he was trying to memorize the scattered leaves. He seemed determined to look at anything except for her.

All her longing gathered into a single, agonizing point, determined to make him understand. “What does all this mean, then? I don’t believe you feel nothing for me. All these months… The way you bring me close enough to touch, but pull me back the moment I reach out. The way you relax when we’re alone, but your heart beats faster the closer I get.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, green eyes wet when they flashed dangerously at her.

“I can hear it now.”

She inched forward and opened her senses. Sure enough, his powerful heartbeat was fluttering nearly as fast as her wing beats. Slowly, she approached his mouth and floated a hand up to touch his lower lip. He shuffled back a step, and she followed. Her hand made contact. He breathed in sharply, stopping in his tracks like he was rooted in place.

His stillness shattered when she leaned in to kiss him again. The tip of her nose barely grazed his upper lip before Cliff tore away. He paced back to the car, putting what felt like miles of space between them with each step.

“Please, Zia. You’re making it harder.”

"Am I just supposed to live with all of these almosts between us?”

He pivoted sharply. In her pursuit, she almost slammed into his chest. “You think this will make you happy, but you’re wrong,” Cliff said.

“How do you know?” she shouted back, anger seizing her. “How do you fucking know unless you just…”

“Zia, stop! Fix your fantasy on someone else.”

She recoiled. His barked words were like a knife to her chest, and it hurt to breathe as she stared. His hard expression flickered, and he looked like he wanted to apologize—but clamped his mouth shut firmly instead.

“So, what?” she asked, voice thick and pathetic. It was hard to look at him. She had been so sure, and now she felt like perhaps there was a stranger standing before her. Perhaps she didn’t know Cliff at all. “Everything that’s happened. It’s meant nothing, is that right? Leading nowhere.”

Cliff’s eyes shuttered. "I've been careless. I'm sorry." His jaw ticked like forming the words was physically painful.

But he didn’t recant them. Didn’t apologize. She inched away from him.

Slowly, the fire flourishing in her chest flickered down to a pathetic ember. She sniffed harder and wiped her tears on her gossamer sleeve; it was all but ruined now, not meant for so much moisture.

“I think you should leave,” Cliff said quietly.

Downcast, she sank lower in the air. Zia glanced back the way she’d come. Dusk was barely clinging to the sky, and stars began to wink between gaps in the forest. The safe house was lit warmly on the third floor, its familiar grounds shimmering faintly behind the veil of fortified glamour. She’d have to go in the roof entrance to avoid being seen like this.

She’d go back missing a piece of what made her world so whole and certain.

"I'm really sorry I brought it up," she said. She tried not to let the anguish deep into her voice. He owed her nothing. “Stars, I feel so fucking embarrassed.”

His brow knit. “Zee, I…”

“It’s fine. Obviously, I misread… everything.”

“Are you okay to fly?” Cliff asked after a beat.

She ignored the question, wiping her eyes so she could see a path through the trees. “Thank you again for the wine.” She departed as fast as her wings could carry her. Whatever Cliff said in response, if anything, was lost to the midnight wind rushing in her ears.

In her bedroom, Zia stayed awake until early hours of the morning, hoping he might come back and recant everything.

Knowing he wouldn’t.

There were no fatalities on their side, but Zia had seen the blood seeping through Cliff’s sleeve before he got into his car. She had been frozen for a moment before giving into Oliver’s urges to get her inside Erik’s vehicle.

Four rescues, all of them ironsick and huddling together like they might die if separated. A few sprains, bent wings, and cracked ribs from their captors’ rough handling. She made short work of those injuries, but there was little she could do about their glassy stares.

Normally, she at least tried to offer reassurance, to coax their names out. But even Yarrow was doing a better job at that while she flitted back out to listen closer to Erik and Cliff’s rumbling tones.

“Go on,” Cliff was saying. “Get them to the safe house. I’ve got plenty to patch myself up with in the car. I’ll see you soon.”

Erik didn’t argue. He gave a curt nod and started for the driver’s side of his car. “Call if you’ve got any tails.”

Zia wavered. Even from a distance, she could sense that the wound was deep. Not life-threatening, but painful. Cliff may have been skilled at masking his agony, but even without her senses, she caught the twitch of his mouth trying not to grimace. The brief tremor in his arm. The hard blink of trying to put all that hurt behind a wall.

“Zia?” Oliver was by her side again. “Snap out of it—we have to go.”

“I’m going with Cliff.” The words flew out before she could stop them, but she didn’t try to take them back. “Tell Erik to get going. We’ll catch up.”

Oliver didn’t move. “Are, uh… Are you sure you’re alright for this?”

Zia started for Cliff’s car. He wasn’t looking at them, pulling his door open. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, hoping that would be the end of it.

“I dunno what happened the other night,” Oliver said, only a wingbeat behind her. “But he’s been acting weird. I can—”

“It’s too deep for you,” Zia said, pausing at a hover and whirling to flash him a look. “Just go.”

He stopped in front of her, eyes narrowed. His fists curled at his sides. The air crackled with static. He set his jaw and finally backed off. “Fine.”

The headlights of Cliff’s black mustang snapped on. The growl of its engine followed, alerting her that she needed to move quickly. Zia summoned a gentle glow to her skin as she hovered in front of his windshield, a soft contrast to the inky darkness. The driver’s door cracked open, and in a fluid motion, she flew inside.

Steely gaze on the road, Cliff barely paid her mind as he peeled out after Erik, and silence took hold. They had both remarked on the comfort of these quiets at times—familiar enough with each other’s company that there was no expectation, no need to speak sometimes. Particularly after a mission. They could simply be.

This silence was stale. Since she'd confronted him two weeks ago in the woods, these had been more frequent—all of them unbearably awkward.

“Are you pulling off soon?” Zia asked.

“Yeah. I saw a good spot on the way up. Isolated, no streetlights. Completely out of the way.”

A laugh lodged itself in her throat. “I think you just described a serial killer’s wet dream.”

It was a little less than ten minutes before she saw Erik’s car pull off towards a highway while Cliff veered onto a winding, unmarked road. The trees blurring in the window were craggy and unwelcoming. Houses became sparse, then nonexistent as the forest thinned. A lake came into view—she had seen it from a distance many times in her flights surrounding the safe house, but never so close. Certainly never at night.

He parked in the shadows near the shore, where driftwood cluttered a dark line of sand. She was glad when he stepped outside—the smell of the water was soothing.

Zia jerked back to attention when Cliff gave a harsh grunt. She whirled to find he’d pulled out the remaining part of the blade that had been embedded into his left tricep. He chucked it into the driftwood thoughtlessly.

“Fuck, Cliff, sit down,” Zia exclaimed.

The smell of his blood was already stronger as the wound seeped freshly.

“Hope that fucker rots,” Cliff said, wincing as he sat by the water. He let it lap at his boots while he removed his jacket and button-up to give her access.

Zia conjured the spell in a blossom of cerulean light between her palms and thrust it towards the twist of severed skin and muscle. “I’ve spoiled you if you’re this nonchalant about a six-inch knife in your arm.” She stole a look up, unable to see more than the underside of his clenched jaw. It slowly relaxed as his agony ebbed.

He said nothing. The only sound that escaped him was a quiet sigh. Even with the wound closing, it still looked brutal with his lost blood still smeared on his arm. The scent was all too familiar.

Thought you’d be better at keeping your blood in by now. She thought about joking, but couldn’t bring herself to try. It would have been effortless two weeks ago.

Once the knife wound was taken care of, she flitted around him to address the less urgent cuts and scrapes. She eased his bruises before they could fully form.

And still, the heavy silence remained, pushing on her from all directions until she thought she might suffocate. He may have opened the car door for her, but maybe their proximity was just routine at this point. Maybe he regretted letting her this close again. Maybe she should have let Oliver take this one instead.

“It was too deep for the others to heal,” she said, pausing at a long, thin gash on his forearm. She wasn’t sure if the justification was for him or for herself, but it left her feeling pathetic all the same. “I know it hurt, and I… I just wanted it done right.”

He looked down at her, but they didn’t lock eyes; his gaze roved her up and down, fervently taking in the state of her. “Thank you,” he finally said, voice soft.

“Yeah, well.” She decidedly focused on the healing. “Thanks for saving my life again, too.”

Saving her didn’t seem the right way to describe it. Her attacker had been beaten into a shape that was scarcely human. In her effort to usher the captive fairies away, she’d been cornered. Cliff had swooped in like a vengeful titan—the result of his blade strikes into the man’s neck and eye were still splattered on Zia. The blood was slowly drying from bright crimson to rust, stiffening her clothes.

She landed on a partially submerged branch, careful not to drench her wings as she gathered handfuls of water. Her wrap top and trousers were ruined, but she scrubbed vigorously at her hands, her arms, under her fingernails. No amount of cleansing could erase the feeling of hot blood spraying her face. The smell of the human’s sweaty skin as he’d loomed with that grim surety. She raked over and over with all her might, until frustrated tears stung and her skin began to throb.

“Hey. May I?”

She jerked her head over her shoulder. She felt the tension in her body—it must’ve shown with the way he was looking at her. Cliff was reaching for her, and she spotted a little alcohol wipe packet in his other hand.

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Fine.”

His hands smelled like lakewater and metal, but it was quickly masked by the awful disinfectant. Zia wrinkled her nose, turning her head away. She caught Cliff smirking at her behalf overhead as he shuffled her on his bent knee.

It used to be nothing when he perched her here.

Pungent as it was, the thin cloth he rubbed over her arms and hands felt thorough. The pale fingers began to resemble her own again.

Cliff glanced at her face. “Close your eyes.”

Something in her obeyed without question, even if the deep tones made her insides shiver with anticipation. He dabbed gently at her forehead and cheeks.

“When I saw him reaching for that iron, I lost myself for a second,” Cliff’s voice rumbled softly. His touch was suddenly slow, utterly unhurried. “I was so scared I was about to watch you die.”

She swallowed hard. After the brutality of the rescue, his touch was like heaven.

“Felt like my body was frozen solid,” he went on, rubbing at a spot on her neck. “Like I couldn’t get to you fast enough.”

“But you did,” she reminded him.

“Yeah. I guess I just needed to say it.”

Zia fluttered her eyes open. They’d kept their distance for weeks, but there were no shields around him now. And the way he was looking at her… She had died a thousand little times since he had refused her. Falling into his familiar green eyes would make her foolish; it would make her willing to make it a thousand more.

“I’m sure even you could muster up more pleasant dreams than this,” Zia joked half-heartedly. She brushed herself off and flexed her wings. Taking to the air, she flew towards the car and waited for his familiar footsteps to follow.

Only, he didn’t.

“You know they’ll never let you live it down.”

Cliff was on his feet, but still facing the water. Like they were here on holiday, in no rush at all.

She screwed up her face. “What?” Zia called.

“Even at the safe house. Every day, it’ll be new bullshit. They’ll talk, and it will be fucking awful. It’ll undermine this position you’ve fought for, the life you built yourself here.”

Her stunned silence spread between them, seconds stretching. This silence was different—not awkward, but electric.

Zia held his gaze cautiously as he turned to face her. Her throat closed up. Would he really be so cruel as to do this to her twice?

She gritted out, “The others will be waiting on us, Cliff. As it is, we can barely sneeze without someone starting a new rumor, so—”

“It’d never work.” He took a step toward her, but not like he was aiming to leave. More like she was his destination. “I drink too much.”

She clenched her jaw and held perfectly still. “That’s true.”

“And I dunno if you’ve noticed, but I’m an asshole in the mornings.” Another step closer.

“Also true.” She wet her lips and gave him a wry smile, tempted to end this stupid game yet too stunned to do anything except play along. “But I like your morning voice, so try again.”

“Yeah? Well, how ‘bout the way that you’re a healer and I’m a killer?” This time as he prowled nearer, the vulnerability in his eyes took her off guard. As though he might shatter if he scared her off. “How are you okay with that?”

“I’ve lost count of how many of us you’ve saved. Of how many times you’ve saved me alone.” She pursed her lips. “And I’m not perfect either, you know. Sometimes I’m so anxious, I throw up. It’s not pretty.”

He chuckled. “Now that might be the deal breaker.” Then he closed the rest of the space between them, and they were nose to nose. His gaze searched her face, her ruined clothes, every inch of her. “I’m afraid, Zee,” he said, quieter. “I’m scared shitless of… all of it. There are a lot of people who’d wanna make an example out of us.”

She drew back slightly, bracing her heart with steel and thorns. “I thought there was no us.”

His jaw squared hard. He lifted a hand, letting his fingers uncurl to graze at her limbs without altogether taking her out of the air. He left ample room for her to fly away, and when she didn’t, he closed his hand into a fist. She heard a gasp tear out of her, feminine and laced with arousal.

“I want to be selfish.” His voice shook like he’d been punched, its resonance losing none of its power at the closeness. His grip tightened on her. Cliff paused then and frowned, eyes flickering to his boots. “What I said the other night—I’m sorry.”

The fragile pieces of her heart quivered fearfully—was this pity? It was hard to erase the sting of that scared, angry boy in the woods. But there was possessiveness in this touch, a wildness to his eyes.

“We don’t have to do this,” Zia murmured. “Cliff, you don’t owe me anything.”

“I love you.”

“What?”

Cliff pried her chin up. “I love you.”

With torturous slowness, he leaned in to kiss her.

While his lips were pressed to hers, the entire world stopped. Everything was starlight. Zia felt her body light up as Cliff’s grip tightened again—mine—while she grasped at his chin instinctively.

Cliff pulled away to look at her. He was smiling—incandescent and happy like she hadn’t seen him in years. Happy from kissing her. From loving her. Zia beamed back, dizzy and breathless and vaguely aware of confused tears slipping down her face.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Cliff rasped. “But I want you. I want you so badly, it burns.”

His hand opened so she was curled in his cupped palm, and he looked over her like she still might change her mind and fly away at any moment. They stayed near to the other, catching their breath though they hadn’t moved at all.

“I guess that settles it,” Zia croaked finally.

“What?”

“That rumor about you being a decent kisser.”

His expression twitched. “Oh, I can do better than decent, honey.”

Zia got on her knees and cupped his chin in her hands. “Show me.”

She plunged into a second kiss and Cliff responded in kind.

His lips were soft enough to caress her skin, yet fierce enough to steal the breath from her lungs. The fervor of his kiss pushed her back against his fingers. She could hardly budge, but she didn’t want to. She would have been satisfied to stay pinned by his mouth for hours.

She couldn’t begin to count the number of times she had daydreamed about this moment, and not one of her fantasies could do it justice.

When Cliff pulled back a fraction of an inch to take a breath, Zia grinned. “Alright, you’re more than decent, I’ll give you that.”

She sat up higher on her knees and pounced, peppering his jaw with kisses. Before long, her face was pink with tiny scrapes from his beard, but the little stings let her know that this was real—this was happening.

Cliff didn’t idle, not even with her all over him. He tilted his head down and pressed deep kisses to her neck and clavicle. His lips parted, and teeth gingerly brushed her shoulder. She leaned into the sensation, wishing it were less gentle. He complied, giving her shoulder a nip.

The softest whimper fluttered past her lips, and Cliff stopped at once.

“Too much?” He was still so close, his lower lip brushed her breast when he spoke.

She shivered. “Not enough.”

That drew a chuckle out of him. “Good,” he all but growled, arousal tangling with need.

A soft sound surrounded them suddenly. Zia stiffened, worried that someone—anyone—was intruding upon them. Cliff brought her closer and gazed around raptly.

A drop splashed on Zia’s shoulder, and she realized that rain was beginning to patter slowly around them. Relaxing, Cliff strode closer to the car to check the mirrors and their surroundings. No one was around for miles. No tails.

Only them.

He lifted her higher and brought his gaze back to her. His other hand returned, fingertips brushing the outside of her thigh delicately. She still laid prone, more than ready to pick up where they left off.

“Hang on,” he muttered. Then he was on the move again, ushering her to his shoulder as he headed around to the back of the car

A blanket came out of the mess in his trunk, which he arranged on a soft, grassy patch near the lake’s bank. With the rain light enough to spare her wings, Zia didn’t wait for an invitation. She zipped down the moment the old fabric was settled to land promptly at its center. Sighing happily, she laid out on her back with her arms folded carefree over her head.

She grinned breathlessly when Cliff crawled over her, his powerful frame all but blocking out the overcast sky. She positioned her body to say yours for the taking and was pleased he seemed to understand intuitively.

They said little. Happy, feverish kisses was the only language that mattered now; touches that starved to make up for lost time that could not be stolen back.

Without pausing in his affections, Cliff tore at the holster strapped around his waist. The weapons at his hip and strapped to his thigh fell heavily to the ground. When he drew back to sweep them aside, Zia was afforded another view of his powerful torso straining under the simple tee. The ache between her legs throbbed when he caught her watching him intently—and grinned.

He was back on her. Zia twisted to grab a fistful of the collar of his shirt and pull hard.

“Off,” she panted.

Cliff‘s soft chuckle rumbled into her side. “Yes ma’am.”

He drew up on his knees to pull the tee over his head. Bared to his waist, he paused there- letting her look. Zia propped herself up on her elbows, catching her breath. Her wings twitched as she took him in. Familiar, yet never hers.

She took to the air, skirting up along his navel and toned abdomen until she reached the middle of his chest. She placed her pale hands on his skin. She had healed bullet wounds and burns and gashes from this very spot. Beneath her fingers, his heart pounded the same chaotic rhythm as hers.

She craned her neck to meet his watchful gaze, not minding how small she felt from the odd angle. She pressed a lingering kiss to Cliff’s chest. Another, and another. A low, whooshing sigh escaped him.

One of his arms shifted, and a hand reached for her, like he couldn’t bear to not be touching her. She held still in front of his chest and took a second to admire the simple movement. Off to the side, she could see one of the tattoos that wrapped around his bicep. The ink’s edge was warped from injury and healing, never quite the same. She always felt sorry when she couldn’t heal with his tattoos intact.

Now, it made her heart flutter happily to think of those flaws as loving proof of her healing.

As his hand came up from underneath, his palm stopped just short of her dangling feet. She peeked up at him curiously. He stared back hard, his gaze making tiny, almost imperceptible movements up and down her body.

“What is it?” she asked.

Cliff finally moved his hand up all the way, turning it as though he meant to take her into a fist again, but his fingers stayed loose. His thumb lightly touched her belly, while his index finger traced the small of her back. Her insides quivered, aching for more.

“Been wanting this for so long,” he said in a low voice, “I think I’ll wake up if I make another move.” His exploring touch became delicate, like she was made of rare, spun crystal.

She let her weight settle into his hold, her wings slowing to a soft flutter. He turned his wrist, tipping her onto his palm. His other hand approached, a fingertip tracing up along her waist and the curve of her breasts.

His fingernail plucked at the neckline of her ruined top, pawing to get underneath. She nodded fervently, desperate to shed her clothes and forget about the rain of blood. While she urgently pushed her trousers down and kicked them off, the efforts of Cliff’s fingers resulted in a sharp rip of fabric. She froze on her back, letting her arms fall on either side of her as he peeled the rest of her top off and left her bare.

Cliff’s effortless strength left her gaping up at him, while he stared back at her naked body, just as entranced.

He shook his head disbelievingly. “You’re so perfect. Like a dream.”

“Do you want me to pinch you?

“You can do anything you want to me.”

She giggled and ran her hand along his palm—it was solid and it was him. She smiled and tried to ease his worries. “It does feel surreal. I keep telling myself this is real, too. Keep reminding myself that I don’t have to… to keep myself together when you do the simplest things.”

His eyebrows hiked up with intrigue. “Like what?”

She sat up slowly. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s silly.”

“Tell me.” His hand propped her higher. The insistent smirk spreading on his face would be the end of her. “Like when I do what?”

She pursed her lips, face beginning to get hot again. Finally, she peeked up from under her eyelashes. “Like when you have a drink. And I’m so, so jealous that the glass gets to touch your mouth.”

A soft, crooked smile spread across his face, masking the touched expression that furrowed. He nuzzled in close again, scruffy chin resting against her shoulder. Thrilled goosebumps rose more readily now that she had no clothes to protect her from the contact. “Oh, I see. You wanna be my little sip of something?”

The rasp of his voice came in a silken decibel she’d never heard him use. Zia opened her mouth to answer, but what came out was an incoherent stammer.

Cliff lowered her to the blanket and got up to rummage in the trunk again. Her heart skipped a beat when he returned with a half-finished handle of whiskey and a glass he’d scavenged from the safe house attic. His own emergency kit, he had called it. He filled the glass generously and sat back beside her, shooting her a look that was equal parts sinful and curious.

“Thirsty?” His finger tapped the rim of the glass. “C’mere.”

Zia hovered awkwardly over it for a moment before taking a delicate seat on the rim with her legs tucked along the glass. The fumes hit strong, its amber contents lapping at her ankles.

“Like this?”

“Perfect.”

“This is good for you?” she lifted her eyebrows curiously, hoping her grin would hide the edge of anticipation in her voice.

His gaze rested on her, half-lidded like he was already drunk at the very sight of her. “I feel like I should be careful telling you everything I’ve imagined,” he said. “The things I want to do to you.”

Cliff brought the glass up before his mesmerized gaze. Turned it this way and that in the moonlight like an appraiser considering a piece of art. She was so exposed, so vulnerable, but his stare left her lightheaded with the sway she had over him.

“The idea of having you all to myself… Anytime, anywhere. Even here.” He drummed a finger on the tumbler. Grinned sheepishly. “It drives me crazy.”

In the midst of stupid, stupid happiness, Zia’s smile flickered.

“What?” he asked, frowning at her.

She wiped at the tears that misted. “It’s nothing. It’s just… All this time.”

Cliff shared her sad, knowing smile. Soldiers’ smiles.

He kissed her, and she felt the silent promise to make up for lost time in her bones.

When they paused to breathe, he dipped his little finger in the whiskey and brought it towards her. She instinctively sucked the droplet off his fingertip and watched arousal flood his face. She didn’t wince. The flavor was so much more pleasant when it tasted of him, too.

When she’d sucked every remnant from him and more, she glanced down into the whiskey and dropped in without another thought. It wasn’t as cold as she’d expected, but the sensation of being in his drinking glass sent a shot of nerves through her body. It was strange, dangerous, wonderfully intimate.

“Fuck, Zee…”

She gripped the rim of the tumbler facing him, up at chest level, breathless and feeling utterly pinned as his teeth grazed his lower lip.

“Should we see if you taste as good as you look?” Cliff murmured.

He didn’t wait for her answer.

He bridged the drink to his mouth. A strangled yelp escaped her as she was sent tumbling forward at the slightest tip of his wrist. Cliff’s perfect lips filled the opening of the glass—a peek of white at the rim.

Zia set her hands on his upper lip, her quick breaths turning into exhilarated pants. Whiskey rushed past her, trying to tug her along as it vanished into his mouth. She resisted the pull but did not lean away entirely, allowing herself to get soaked all the way to the top of her head. She leaned in and kissed him like fire fueled her.

She moaned his name the way fairies prayed to the stars. His answering growl made the air around her rattle.

He stopped drinking, but he didn’t go anywhere. His lips moved from the rim to her face to lavish her with kisses. The tip of Cliff’s tongue glided along her cheek delicately, like he wanted to savor her skin under the drop of whiskey he was licking up.

The moment he left her cheek, she ducked to scoop whiskey into her hand. It was no more than a few droplets to him, but she still tapped on his lower lip with her other hand.

“Open,” she said.

He did as he was told, and she slipped her liquor-soaked hand past his lips. He went rigid for a second, then melted at once when he tasted her fingers. His lips closed softly, tugging her arm in deeper until she was caught up to her elbow. His teeth settled around her forearm to keep her in place as he sucked the whiskey off her skin.

Heat sang in her veins, leaving her dizzy with ecstasy.

For a second, she wondered if this could be nearly as good for him as it was for her, but that question was put to rest when she heard the little moans burying themselves in his throat each time his tongue probed her arm.

When he released her, his mouth immediately returned to the glass rim. He took another drink, tipping it all the way back until Zia had to brace her arms on his upper lip to keep from falling out. Cliff drained it all away and swallowed it in a single gulp. He righted the glass, and Zia was left clinging to the top—his last remaining sip.

He studied her like he was memorizing the way she looked, making her dangle there as his eyes moved over the sight before him - a sight crafted just for him. Thankfully, he didn’t make her wait long. His strong fingers returned to dip in and scoop her out. Zia kept her wings tightly folded against her back, molding herself to the plane of his calloused palm, blissfully powerless as he kissed the remnants of liquor from her skin.

“Did I get it all?” he asked.

Zia patted the space between her breasts. “More here.” She tapered off with a delighted shriek as he pounced to oblige. “And here.” Every ache from time lost eased when he was touching her.

Cliff pried himself off her. His hand flexed around her, adjusting to her splayed out form. He brushed her damp bangs aside with a careful touch from his other hand. The look on his face was so kind and adoring, Zia once again felt her chest seize up on the verge of emotion.

That gentle touch migrated to her neck, to her chest. Cliff circled her breasts purposefully, focusing on the hardened peak of her nipples.

She beamed up at him, touching her own body and watching the need, fucking need, build in Cliff’s face. He had to adjust himself to accomodate the straining in his jeans before he reached again. He moved like a man taking what he wanted, but there was something undeniably reverent in the way he nudged her legs apart for a better look. He dragged that sinful finger down from her bare belly to her clit.

“You’re already so wet,” he gasped. Those green eyes whispered good girl and he applied pressure into her. Stars and fire stirred inside her. Zia moaned and clamped her thighs around her hand.

Cliff chuckled. “So sensitive.”

She laid her hand on his, urging more pressure. “Only for you,” Zia said.

He slowly started to rub, and she guided him into a faster rhythm. Past her knees, she watched his face. He looked hypnotized, yearning for more. “I want to be inside you so bad,” he breathed.

She panted. “Harder.”

Obliging, he pressed so hard that he pushed her back on his palm. He leaned in closer, eyes glittering. “I would fucking ruin you.”

His finger abruptly pulled away. She was on the verge of begging for it to come back, but his face pushed all the way forward to replace it. With no hesitation, he dragged his tongue down her body and shoved it between her legs.

A cry leaped out of her throat as she buried her fingers into his palm. She arched her back and frantically moved her hips up and down with the wet warmth of his tongue. She tried to push back, but his tongue alone was enough to overpower her. Thrilled goosebumps raced up her arms as he eagerly ate her out.

“You taste amazing.” His whisper was hot on her inner thighs.

“I thought so.”

Minutes passed, and too wired to lay back any longer, Zia rolled onto hands and knees and crawled across his palm, right up to his fingers. She shoved her legs through the spaces on either side of his middle finger. She crossed her ankles around it and swayed back and forth experimentally.

“God, Zee,” he chuckled weakly.

A knuckle pressed against her lower back, nudging her harder against his finger. With that, she began to grind her hips, the sweet ache deepening through her core.

Her perch shuddered slightly and she heard the hurried movement behind her of Cliff fumbling with his jeans. His sigh of relief when he plunged his hand down to grab himself. Zia gripped his finger with both hands to deepen her thrusts, determined to be as impactful as anyone he’d ever bedded.

As she savored the warmth and solidity of the digit between her legs, an image flashed through her mind in bursts. She imagined they were intertwined in her bedroom—the same size. He mounted her on the bed and his cock filled her instead of his finger.

She moaned his name loudly. His thumb sloppily pressed into her back, both a comfort and a demand. She glanced over her shoulder, fully attuned to his desperation. “Beg me for more.”

“Please, Zee,” Cliff said breathlessly. “You are… the most incredible thing on earth.”

She heard him shift again with purpose, and it wasn’t long until he grasped under her arms, dragged her onto her back in his palm again. She delighted in his easy strength. He took what he needed all the time. Finally, he was taking her.

“Spread your legs,” he murmured, as though she had to be asked. He smiled sincerely at the sight. “You’re all I ever want to taste now. Fucking unbelievable.”

The return of his tongue was a drug, and she knew she was already addicted. It would be easy to lose herself - but she was just as generous as he was.

“Cliff, wait. Wait, I want to—“

She sat up, combing her mussed green bangs off her face. She leaned over the edge of his palm and peered down at the treasure promised below his belt line. “I want to be on you. Your turn.”

For the first time, uncertainty clouded Cliff’s face. “No offense, but are you sure?”

Zia rose on her knees, cupping his chin and peppering him with slow, sensual kisses. “Please, I’ve imagined it a hundred times in my head. I know exactly what I want.”

“A hundred times?”

Zia chuckled softly, gripping at his palm. “Are you shy?”

He bit his lip, caught between lust and concern as he pulled back to look at her. "I just don't want you to think you have to." His expression was sweet, but he was practically vibrating with impatience. "I don't want you to think like I expect it, or—"

“Cliff,” she said in a softer voice, forcing him to lean in. She crawled closer to the edge of his palm, eyes locked on his. She wiggled her ass for good measure. “Hurry up and fucking ruin me.”

That was all the convincing he needed. He removed his jeans without further argument. Zia's breath caught. He was erect already. He lowered her hesitantly, like she might change her mind. But once she was close enough, she gave her wings one short flutter and all but threw herself onto his cock.

Cliff shuddered with pleasure, and she felt every inch of it. A moan rumbled above her like thunder. His hand stayed, fingertips braced on her waist to steady her as she spread her legs and straddled him.

"Stars," she murmured, running her hands up and down his hot skin experimentally. "I can feel your pulse." She shivered, almost unable to believe that the fervor of his pounding heartbeat was because of her.

Perhaps it was wrong of her to feel some sort of ownership as she squeezed his width with her thighs, felt his cock respond in kind. Cliff gripped her in place as he laid back on the blanket. She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear pleasured, breathless noises pass his lips. Like he was starved for her. Like maybe he’d been fantasizing about this a hundred times, too.

When he was settled, Zia immediately began to worship. She licked at the firm, tender skin and ground her hips into him. Precum dribbled to meet her, and she savored the taste of him. The smell of musk and sweat and fresh grass in the air. She felt on fire, connecting to the decadent tension between them. Months of desire, all present here.

Cliff’s hand nudged beneath her ass and legs, boosting her higher. “The tip,” he said. “Keep going.”

She obeyed as swiftly as any of his commands on a rescue, bending down to kiss and drag her tongue along the delicate area. Cliff shivered so hard, Zia had to squeeze him to stay seated, which only heightened the reaction.

He cursed and said her name like a prayer. Despite all the rumors about them, despite all their past partners, she knew Cliff had never done this with anyone before. Neither had she. It was strange and intoxicating to be someone’s first again.

With the help of Cliff’s insistent fingers, she reached the tip and wasted no time in pressing her lips and tongue all over. He was so hard and slick, her feet kept scrabbling on his fingers to keep from slipping down. She’d be sore, and she would relish every moment knowing why.

Cliff was trembling, breathing in sharp gusts that could have belonged to a hurricane. From where she was, she could hardly comprehend the enormity of him. And yet, she was the center of his universe right now. Another wave of crippling pleasure crashed over her at the thought that she’d all but incapacitated him despite not even being the length of his cock.

Pushing her body harder, she climbed up and managed to sit on the tip, hugging it tightly with her thighs. She didn’t need his hand, and he was attuned to her movements enough to understand that too. He began to stroke himself while she held on tight and thrust her hips in time with his rhythm, each push becoming more forceful.

“You can feel me?” she asked between gasps.

He couldn’t even answer, but he gave a moan of affirmation. As his hand moved faster, the other cupped behind her to keep from falling. She almost wanted to push it away. Struggling to stay astride him while they both lost themselves in ecstasy was half the pleasure.

When she tipped her head back, she swore she could see stars winking through the clouds. Zia thought of every simmering glance they had shared on missions, in passing in the safe house halls, driving in his car with the wind whipping through her hair. The path of every fleeting touch now clear, imbued with more meaning. The way he had looked after her, carried her to bed after Liam had hurt her last year. Cliff’s brutality, his kindness. She thought of the night he had dragged himself into the building, sopping wet and filthy after losing Sylvia and Jon and emerged headstrong back into her life.

Hers.

Little sparks of harmless magic flickered on her fingertips as her orgasm coursed through her and she gripped Cliff with everything she had. The stars above seemed to burn.

“Zia,” Cliff panted. “I… I’m gonna…”

“It’s okay.”

He started to scoop her out of the way, but his movements seized and lost direction. She expected him to come with a roar, but instead he did so with a final soft, gasping sigh. Some of his impressive release painted her face and body, making her flinch her eyes shut for a moment.

The shock was already wearing off when Cliff’s hand closed fully around her dripping body. The world spun as he adjusted, tucked himself back into his jeans and boxers and rolled onto his side. He brought her up to eye level, breathing hard.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Cliff cleaned some of the cum off with his thumb, then used the hem of his discarded shirt to dab at her more thoroughly.

“Please, don’t worry,” Zia said. She shifted in the cave of fingers and palms, leaning our past the fabric towards his face. She drug her finger through some of the cum on her navel and sucked it off. It was far more preferable to being soaked in blood.

Hunger flickered back to life in Cliff’s gaze at once. “Don’t start again,” he said, raptly watching the path of that sticky little hand. “We’ll be here all night.”

She laughed. “Well, that sounds nice.”

With aching gentleness, Cliff kissed her face, her cheek, the crown of her head. Zia felt tears slip out when he hugged her to his cheek for a long while - just holding her. There was so much still unspoken, but she could hear it clearly as the solidity and warmth of him bled into her every cell. You are treasured, protected, wanted.

Pulling away, he brushed her jawline with tender adoration. Zia closed the remaining space between them and leaned her forehead against the space between his eyes. She rose on her knees to stroke the bridge of his nose.

“Feels wrong to be this happy,” he mumbled finally.

“I know. Fight through it.”

Cliff gave the soft, rumbling laugh that she loved. He turned onto his back and tipped her onto his chest. He watched her settle before easing into his back. Zia curled up under the perfect heaviness of his hand that settled onto her like a blanket.

A pause drew out for a while. They stared at the sky and let the peace of the forest wash over them.

“I love you so much,” Cliff said softly.

Her breath caught. It was so sincere, and it didn’t sound like a revelation to him. She had been right that he had been suffering as much as she had. She brushed her fingertip over his chest, tracing invisible runes while her mind raced over and over with his words.

“After all that, I would hope so,” she said with a weak chuckle.

He squeezed her gently. “I’m sorry I didn’t let myself say it until tonight.”

Zia stared at his skin, contemplative. “How long?”

“Since you didn’t give up on healing me the night I came back alone. I didn’t know it then—I wasn’t in the right mind to make sense of anything I felt. But the moment I realized I love you… Remember when I came back from that raid outside of Columbia?”

She scoffed. “How could I forget? You dug two bullets out of yourself with a knife!”

“They were iron.”

“With a knife, Cliff! Really!”

His laugh rumbled again, assuaging the echoes of frustration from the memory. He stroked her hair. “You yelled the whole time you healed me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard so much profanity mixed in with a spell. It was impressive.”

“You love me because I yelled at you?”

“You were so pissed. Like… like I really meant something to you. I wanted to kiss you then. To hold you just like this. But…”

She sighed. “I know the rest.” She rubbed her cheek against his chest, savoring the nonstop heat that bloomed from him. “And now we’re here, and it was… fine, right? Probably top ten?”

He hummed, noncommittal. “Yeah, I powered through.” His hand lifted to pinch her side playfully. He took advantage of her flinch and slipped his ring finger between her thighs, feeling the remaining wetness of her pleasure. “You loved it,” he said roguishly. “I can still taste how much you did.”

She giggled, giving his finger another sinful squeeze with her legs. “I can’t argue with the evidence.”

Pulling his finger away, he rested his hand heavily upon her again. His thumb stroked her wings, pausing to rub slow circles between her shoulder blades.

“Can we stay here for a while?” she asked, even as the rain began to fall harder.

His fingers curled, holding her closer. His. Hers.

“For as long as you want,” he murmured.

It was easy enough for Cliff to find a dry set of clothes for himself in the car. After picking through the fairy-sized clothes he had available, Zia was left wearing an oversized shirt that was just long enough to serve as a dress. She made a mental note to update the stash of supplies he took on his rescue missions.

Cliff swore she looked absolutely adorable, and though she griped, she couldn’t deny the coziness of her makeshift clothing as she snuggled into Cliff’s neck for the rest of the journey to the safe house.

However, when the headlights began to illuminate familiar tree patterns, uncertainty took root in Zia’s heart. Cliff pulled the car into one of his usual spots and cupped a hand around her as he got out.

She felt his neck stretch as he tipped his chin to glance up at the windows. Faint glows drifted past the glass here and there. A few seemed to pause, focused on the two of them down below.

Zia swallowed hard, her mood sinking further. “You want one of us to head in first? So it doesn’t look like—”

“No.” His hand pressed her harder against his neck, fingers curling to keep her secure. “We’re heading in together.”

A breathless smile spread across her face, relief and elation fighting for dominance. She tilted her head to kiss the side of his index finger.

Erik and Oliver and a few of the night shift guards were talking in low voices in the refurbished sitting room. Cliff stopped in the doorway long enough to find that Bristel and Yarrow had already taken the rescues to the dormitories. They were recovering as well as they could be expected to.

Bypassing the offer to join them for a drink, Cliff walked the route to his room, knowing the path with hardly a light to guide his way. Zia followed. In his doorway, Cliff angled his head, stepping back.

“Stay with me tonight?”

Zia grazed a hand along his jaw as she flew inside. “I guess I can cancel my plans.”

The door shut and another squeeze of his perfect touch found her legs. “Might wanna cancel them for the next few nights, babe.”

((Authors’ note: Thank you for reading, and we hope you enjoyed!! What was your favorite part? 😘))

#gt #g/t #giant tiny #g/t writing #gt writing #mywriting #n/sfw #size difference #cliff #zia #shot in the dark #dark future au #whiskey and wine #gt angst #g/t angst #spicy gt story

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limpfisted · 7 months

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WISHLIST: ANOTHER herbert sherbert weird kenjammin original questline based off the descent to avernus module!

TITLE: GASP! POLITICAL INTRIGUE! SPIES! DANGER! THE COUNCIL OF LORDS! AMN! OCS AND NPCS WE WRITE TOGETHER! THE ELECTION OF NOT ONE, BUT THREE DIFFERENT DUKES DURING THE TRIAL OF VANTHAMPUR. ESCANDALO….

REAL TITLE: a sprawling political campaign we write together based off various sources of dnd media.

TIMELINE: post-act 3 (duke ravengard verse.)

NOTE: this is WYLL-SPECIFIC, i also have ideas for vampire, githyanki, shar, mystea stuff….. but idk if yall wanna see that lol. if you want, you can steal these ideas for your own rps! would be fun, show me your rps!

RELEVANT DND INFORMATION:

amn is a city like baldur’s gate, but actually a nice place to live. theyre a lot newer, but they’re extremely powerful, and they HATE bg for stealing their business, they DON’T want them in the council of lords, n there are potential conspiracy plots and assaination plots alluded to potentially.they have a history of war with bg as well. amn is NOT in the council of lords, but they are an entire state apparatus

council of lords members:

Amphail: Lord Dauner Ilzimmer

Baldur's Gate: Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate and Marshal of the Flaming Fists Ulder Ravengard (now grand duke wyll ravengard.)

Daggerford: Duchess Morwen Daggerford

Longsaddle: Dowell Harpell

Mithral Hall: Queen Dagnabbet Waybeard

Mirabar: Marchion Selin Ramur

Neverwinter: Lord Protector Dagult Neverember

Silverymoon: High Mage Taern Hornblade

Waterdeep: Open Lord Laeral Silverhand (she was also the leader of the Alliance)[4]

Yartar: Waterbaron Nestra Ruthiol

baldur’s gate is ruled by the council of four. this was:

vanthampur: captured or killed after betraying elturel and ulder, her seat will be up for election either way

polmyer: largely lazy conflict averse old man

stelmane: killed, her seat will be up for election

ulder: wants to step down for his son, was deposed by gortash, is still the marshal of the flaming fists, but the seat may be open for election as wyll takes on the role during a period of martial law

there are hundreds of refugees out of the city gate

there is already not enough room for lesser nobles to have manors and estates in the upper city, some of the nobles are actually quite poor due to failing businesses

space and resources are not being properly allocated, there is a whole nature reserve for dusthawks, but this space could be used for housing or hunting

in general, nobles CANNOT be seen helping people, it is a sign of weakness, any support for the common people has to be veiled, including bids for electoral candidates. if a noble helps someone publically, they usually end up dead unless theyre really really smart or powerful

even if you are elected, there is so much red tape, it is honestly better to simply join a crew and protect ur community that way

elections include the votes of the common people

the watch only helps the nobility, and humilates and is violent towards commonpeople for the most slight of infractions

the flaming fist SUCKS except for ulder. so whats ulders fucking deal. he is the comissioner gordon of baldur’s gate, i guess

any incoming political ambassadors are interrogated thoroughly to check for spies, it sometimes takes hours at a time, they are Not Trusted

MY PREMISES:

vanthampur is on public trial, two seats are up for election, while wyll is grand duke under martial law

the lord alliance approves of wyll—to an extent, certainly more than gortash, to help him and solidify their allegiance, the lord alliance is coming to baldur’s gate.

in addition, an emissary from amn, who is NOT a spy, and their guard (who ARE spies and such that are there to sow discord and rig the election etc) have come

the cult/conspiracy of ansur has been formed, people who believe in the good of balduran and ansur and believe that the heroes that saved bg actually KILLED ansur have developed into a faction of detractors

tiamut cultists are fighting the remaining dead three cultists to get back tiamut’s hoard of coin, leaving people dead in the fallout

the guild is growing in power, scraping against local crews

the nobles mostly still believe in gortash or at least his vision for the future. some commoners do too. gortash is still a political prisoner, he longs to go back to working on the steel watch.

ulder is back in charge of the flaming fist, however, the people hate them now more than ever. ulder is also falling prey to BAPHOMET’s influence, and will need constant mental healing from the strain.

the refugees need homes and are constantly being preyed on, they do NOT have votes in the election, but they still deserve to be helped

OUR JOB:

make npcs, deal with all this shit!! will be FUN!

this will be A LONG-TERM TWO-PERSON COLLOBORATION, please like this post if you’re interested in doing something like this!

we do not have to ship. at all. platonic is fine. in fact, platonic is great, shipping is also great, but i want to do PLOTTY stuff! ty!

#ooc #wishlist #original quests

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bloodcrave · 11 months

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solidified the idea with twinnie... how douxie and alina meet is delightful. alina grew up knowing about merlin and his apprentice from her mother. kasmira hates merlin. even if she didn't see him as a threat, he was still a thorn in her side. causing her a lot of trouble and consistently trying to hunt her down since he recognized her as a danger. but he also evaded her defeating him, as well. the two are certainly not friends. so it wasn't unusual for kasmira to vent to alina about the two. especially since... well. she spared douxie's life centuries ago... and go figure he becomes merlin's apprentice. how annoying. so when alina is in the same town as douxie and realizes it's him, she concocts a plan. she's going to hook up with him... just to spite kasmira. she and her mother may love each other, but they're also constantly at each other's throats in a way, as well. they bother each other, fight, don't see eye to eye... it's a whole thing. thus, the daughter comes up with this idea. she does everything she can to capture douxie's attention and put herself in the right place at the right time at an after party for him to approach her. they hit it off. the flirts fly... and... oh no. douxie is actually hot and funny and cool. ......and so her plan backfires a smidge on her. not entirely ( she still accomplishes her goal of pissing off her mom ), but now there's a new ordeal. she actually wants to date the wizard now...

#&&. headcanon ( of anger and love )#&&. otp ( alina and douxie )

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tekki-writes · 1 year

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A Strange Devotion

summary: Camellia is a farmer and herbalist in the hidden town of Jackson in Wyoming. This tiny place is a winter oasis in a world of sickness, chaos and danger. When she meets Tommy’s older brother, Joel and the young girl he’s traveling with, everything begins to change. But could it be for the better? pairing: joel miller x female oc word count: 1k rating: 16+

note: this is my first time posting a fic publicly after many years, please excuse any inconsistencies music inspo: Jose Gonzalez - Local Valley

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

“This thing is so itchy!” Ellie exclaims, scratching at the bug bite on her leg. “Stop scratching it, you’ll make it worse.” Joel says. They had been hunting for rabbits for the last few days and had finally gotten a break. “Well…how do I make it go away?” Joel stared at it for a moment, “I would just put a hot spoon to it.”

“Sooo you want me to burn it off?”

“It helps ease the itchiness.”

Ellie gave him a confused look then laughed. They were finally back at the entrance of the town. They were carrying a sackful of rabbits that were ready for a nice, warm stew. “How many people do you think this will feed?” the inquisitive girl asked him. “A good amount,” he said vaguely. “We’ll probably have to go out for more in a few days.”

Joel and Ellie arrived at the back entrance of the kitchen in the dining hall. They dropped off their catch and Joel stayed chatting with the prep cooks for a little bit. Ellie wandered off into the kitchen, a strange smell peeking her curiosity.

There was a woman mixing an enormous pot of…soup? But it didn’t smell like soup. It was pleasant and almost sweet. The woman was vigorously stirring the pot when she noticed Ellie approaching her.

“Oh hello,” the woman that greeted her was tall and lean. Her skin a golden, deep olive color and her eyes a light hazel. She was wearing an oversized green sweater and a pink, faded head wrap. She was sweating profusely from the heat of the stove.

Ellie was quiet for a moment and then looked at the pot, “What are you making? It doesn’t smell like food.”

“That’s because it’s not. It’s a salve.”

“Salve?”

“For wounds and cuts,” the woman continued mixing, slowing down this time. There were old tin containers on the counter. One of them was full. The woman stopped mixing and began pouring the melted mixture into the tins. “It’s a mixture of plants and beeswax. It’ll solidify like this one and you can use it whenever you’d like.”

“Will it work on this?” Ellie pulled her pant leg up to show the woman her bug bite. “It should. But this might be better.” The woman heated up a spoon over the flame and pressed it on the bite.

“W-wait!”, the young girl exclaimed. But it was too late, the woman had already pressed the now warm spoon to her skin. At that moment, a man walked into the kitchen staring down at them both. “What’s going on?”

“The hot spoon trick worked!” Ellie yelled out happily. The woman smiled at her and then looked at him for a moment. “Here, let’s put some of this on too.” She applied one of the solid balms on the girl’s skin and it melted in, soothing the bite.

“Better?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ellie answered with a grin. “I’m Ellie. And this is Joel.”

“Tommy’s brother right?”

“The one and only.”

The woman let out a small laugh. “I’m Camellia. I grow some of the herbs in town and a couple of beehives.”

“You grow bees?” Ellie asked.

“I wish it was that easy,” Camellia said, as she continued pouring the mixture into the tins. “I can show you how it works sometime…when you’re not too busy hunting.”

Ellie smiled and nodded. Joel looked at the woman, “Thank you.” He seemed quiet and stern, the complete opposite of the young girl. “ ‘suppose we’ll see you around.”

She turned to look at him, “I suppose you will.” She smiled.

#tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #fanfic #fanfiction #slow burn #tlou slow burn

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valentineforlemonandcherry · 2 years

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Foxtail & Wolfsbane Part 24

Summary: Your lifelong obsession to hunt down the Nine-Tailed Fox has not gone as expected, and seventeen years later, you find yourself coming back to the place where it all started: Hogwarts. However, with Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban and Headmaster Dumbledore’s hire of a certain Professor R. J. Lupin, you suddenly find yourself intertwined in the fates of those with whom you thought you had parted ways with long ago.

[Multi-Post Story] [Rowan Scamander x Reader] [Remus Lupin x Reader] [Young Sirius Black x Reader] [Tristan Graves x Reader] [Severus Snape x Reader] *Note: Rowan Scamander, Tristan Graves, Susana Holmes, Cas Carneirus, Henrietta Weiss, and Thomas Picquery are OC characters.

Note: Part 24 does not contain any smut.

*Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

☾ Click Here for Foxtail & Wolfsbane Home Page (All Chapter Links) ☾

“What are you all doing here?” you said, amazed.

Wearing his trademark black cloak, formal button-up, and leather gloves, Tristan brushed his silver-streaked hair out of his sharp emerald eyes. Scoffing slightly, he remarked, “It’s rather rude of you not to remember, when you called for us.”

“I did?”

Tristan held up a piece of parchment. “You sent us a letter.”

“We’ve decided to come help you with the Obscurial,” Susana explained. Her voice was very rough, as she was in her elderly-lady disguise, but you remembered Susana for who she was – Susana Grindelwald, not Susana Holmes – a powerful young lady with an incredible air of authority and intimidating magical prowess.

“If it’s not Grindelwald, it’s Dumbledore,” you recited, looking at Tristan. “That’s what you told me.”

Tristan nodded. “Exactly. That’s why we’re here. We feel responsible for it to some degree, as us banishing it from our lands has led it to come here, after your Headmaster.”

Behind him, Dumbledore’s eyes saddened, as they always did when he remembered Gellert Grindelwald. However, he remained quiet, letting the five of you play out your introductions.

“Besides that, you mentioned that your – well, your personal predicament was becoming worse, so we found it fitting to send our finest Magizoologist to help you,” Cas said, nodding at Rowan.

Rowan smiled, amused. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Do you prefer we call you ‘the son of the finest Magizoologist’ instead?” Tristan replied curtly.

Rowan chuckled. “No. What I meant was that you don’t need to introduce me. She knows who I am.”

You looked over at Rowan. He was almost unrecognizable. He had grown so much. Physically, he was twice the size he used to be, and he’d always been rather impressive for his age. Newt and Tina had always wondered where his stature had come from. Now, though, Rowan’s face had become much more carven, with slightly deeper-set eyes and quite a strong jaw. More impressively, his aura had strengthened. It was as if all of the charisma and self-assuredness that had glittered around him when he was a boy had finally solidified within him now that he was a man. Still, though, his chestnut brown eyes, while deeper-set, seemed to sparkle with jest. And the spray of freckles over his broad face kept him looking quite young, despite everything else. In short, the man simply overflowed with confidence.

Just then, Rowan’s eyes met yours. His mouth curled up into a warm smile that plainly told you that he recognized you. “Hello again, little fox.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Tristan relayed what the situation was with the Obscurial. “Headmaster, Tina tells me that you are familiar with the story of Credence Barebone.”

Dumbledore’s eyes dimmed. “Yes, I am. He was an unfortunate victim, who became caught in the fight between myself and Grindelwald. And I recall that you, Mr. Graves, suffered the price for our foolhardiness.”

“When my parents died trying to protect Credence, the Obscurial possessed a part of my spirit and lived within the iris of my eye,” Tristan explained. “Recently, however, the Obscurial was forced out of my body. I believe it came to Hogwarts, seeking you out.”

Dumbledore merely replied, “Well, I am glad the Obscurial has been forced from your spirit. If I may ask, how did that happen?”

Tristan glanced over at you. “I had some help.”

Dumbledore lifted his eyebrow, but he remained silent.

“Headmaster, may we conduct a search of your grounds?” Susana asked.

“Yes, you may. However, I would not recommend going after the Obscurial tonight,” Dumbledore replied. “You have all travelled a long way, and I would not suggest that you chase an Obscurial without being fully rested.”

With that, Dumbledore dismissed everyone.

* * * * * * * * * *

After the meeting, you showed everyone to the guest’s chambers. It was a long hallway, with several rooms. Susana took the first room; Tristan and Cas took the second room. Rowan opened the door to the third room.

“Good night,” you said.

Rowan reached out and put his hand on your shoulder. “You mean to leave just like that?”

“I figured you’d want to sleep.”

“I wouldn’t mind catching up with you. Sleep can wait. It’s been a while since we saw each other, after all.”

You deliberated for a moment. “All right.” You stepped inside of Rowan’s guest room.

“It feels strange to be back at Hogwarts,” Rowan said, taking off his cloak and carelessly tossing it onto the chair. “In Ilvermony, I was sorted into Thunderbird. But to tell you the truth, I’ve always felt Ravenclaw suited me better.”

You picked up Rowan’s cloak and folded it neatly. “Did you miss Hogwarts, then?”

Rowan flicked his wand, and the candles in the room all suddenly glowed with bright fire. “I did.” He paused, before he returned, “Why? Did you think I didn’t?”

“I figured you were busy.”

“That doesn’t mean that I didn’t miss Hogwarts… or you,” Rowan said.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t miss me,” you replied honestly. “It all happened so fast.”

“It’s true that it all happened in a rush,” Rowan agreed. “I mean, when we last saw each other, on the train ride, we were so young. Still, it meant something to me.”

“Oh,” you murmured. “But then - ” you paused, as you felt ashamed for even asking, but you had to know – “why didn’t you answer any of my letters?”

“Your letters? You mean - ”

“The ones I wrote you after we – the summer when you left.”

Rowan sighed. “That would be because I didn’t receive any of them until recently. Two weeks ago, to be exact.”

“What? You didn’t see any of them until two weeks ago? How can that be?”

“My father and I have been travelling every day since I left Hogwarts. He’s writing a new encyclopedia of creatures, you know, and before that, we were busy tracking down Dark Creatures to make sure they weren’t involved with Voldemort. We didn’t remain in the same place for more than a week. Mail never caught up to us.”

“Then, why are you here now?”

“Well, my mother had had enough and she asked my father to come back to London. She gave him a bit of an ultimatum, if I’m being honest. Anyways, my father and I finally returned home. That was just two weeks ago. And that was when my mother gave you all of the letters you had sent me.”

“Goodness,” you said, “that’s a long time to not have a home, Rowan.”

“Yeah,” Rowan agreed. “I don’t know how my father does it. Or how my mother puts up with it. I’m sorry I never replied. I always thought about you, though. In fact, weren’t you busy as well? I always assumed that you were chasing after that Nine-Tailed Fox of yours.”

“Yes, I did. In fact, I found her.”

Rowan broke into a grin. His voice became warm, as he congratulated you, “Atta girl. I knew you would.”

“Yeah, well…” Your voice drifted off, as you couldn’t quite bring yourself to match Rowan’s enthusiasm. Turning away from Rowan, you set his cloak down on top of the dresser.

Rowan noticed that you still had your hood up. He reached out and teasingly pulled your hood off of your head. “What are you still wearing your hood for, silly? You’re indoors.”

You gasped and your hands flew up to your ears – but not before Rowan had glimpsed the fox ears poking out from the top of your head.

“Merlin. I meant ‘little fox’ as a nickname, but it’s really caught on, hasn’t it?”

You tried to yank your hood back over your head, but Rowan caught your wrists. “Hold still. Let me look at you.”

You stiffened as Rowan gazed at you intently. You felt his eyes tracing your ears down to your face, gliding along your cheeks to your lips to your chin, and then back up to your ears.

“What the hell happened to you?” Rowan said finally.

“I told you,” you replied. “I found the Nine-Tailed Fox.”

“And this is what happens to anyone who encounters the Nine-Tailed Fox?” Rowan replied skeptically.

“No, not exactly.” You stepped away from Rowan, as you confessed, “I was too weak. The Nine-Tailed Fox possessed me. Whenever I’m drained of my magical powers or approached by another spirit or emotionally vulnerable, she takes over me.”

Rowan realized, “This is why I never saw you in the newspapers or anything. The truth was, I was waiting to hear your name, to hear that you had found the Nine-Tailed Fox. But I never heard anything. This is why, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I saw you and your father in the newspapers so often, making all kinds of break-through discoveries, one after the other. I couldn’t even find the Fox properly.” You stared at the flickering candle on the bedside table. The orange flame was blurry to you…

Rowan came up to you. He warmly cupped your face in his hand. “It must have been a shock. I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I know you thought of her as freedom.”

Tears slowly dripped from your eyes. It took you by surprise – how you broke down so easily in front of Rowan, especially when you hadn’t seen him for twenty years. But as Rowan gathered you up in his arms and squeezed you tightly, you realized that you had always been completely yourself around Rowan – as selfish and pathetic as you could be – and what was more, Rowan was the only person who could truly understand how much of your dreams had been pinned on finding the Nine-Tailed Fox. Enveloped in his arms and feeling his warm and sturdy body against yours, you felt – not quite whole - but as close to whole as you had for the first time in a long while.

Inside of you, the Fox started. Child, he may be the one to heal you. His soul is very, very strong. He would be able to tame you – tame me – for quite a while yet, should you choose to allow that.

You buried your face in Rowan’s chest and avoided the Fox’s question. I don’t want to think about that right now. Please. Spare me.

The Fox twitched her tails in annoyance at what she considered your emotional weakness, but she consented and turned away from you for the moment.

After a long while, Rowan’s hand pressed against your cheek again, and he pushed your face up so that he could see your face. You resisted. Half to hide your puffy eyes and half to thank him, you turned your face into his palm and nuzzled his hand.

“Stay with me,” Rowan whispered. “Don’t go anywhere tonight.”

“But Rowan - ”

“I know it’s been a long time, and I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your letters. But I’ve thought of that day with you, on the train, so many times now.”

You were very still. You didn’t want to pull away from Rowan’s hand, and you were so glad to hear his reply, to finally know the reason why he had never responded to you after being your first – your first everything… but you didn’t know what to do with this information he was giving you.

You hesitated, before saying, a bit dishonestly, “That memory is hazy for me now.”

Seeing your reluctance, Rowan said quietly, “Well, maybe this is all too much too soon. There’s no need to rush, is there? It’s enough to see each other again… for now.”

“Yes, and I should let you have your rest,” you agreed, as gently as you could. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rowan settled on briefly kissing your forehead. “Sleep well.”

You left his room.

After you closed the door, you leaned back on it for a moment. You clutched your hands to your chest, as you found yourself wondering about how strange life was, how it always seemed that life knew exactly how to sweep your feet out from under you…

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, after breakfast and just before classes, Rowan came up to your classroom to visit you. He looked around your classroom. “A Ghoul Studies Professor, eh?”

“As you see.”

“Why not Care of Magical Creatures?” Before you could even reply, Rowan said knowingly, “You still only care about the Nine-Tailed Fox, huh?”

“Well, Hagrid’s a much better Care of Magical Creatures Professor than I could ever be.”

“Yeah, Hagrid’s great,” Rowan agreed. “Anyhow, we’ve decided to search for the Obscurial today. And, if we determine that it’s still here at Hogwarts, we’ll try to capture it as soon as possible.”

“I think I can be of help,” you offered. “I can take you to the glade where I first encountered the Obscurial.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. But, before that, it’s the last day of classes today.”

“Is it?” A rather mischievous glint appeared in Rowan’s eye as he said, “You have grown up. You used to not even know your own class schedule.”

“Well, not only am I aware of my class schedule, but I need to prepare.”

“Ah, so you’re kicking me out?”

“Something like that.”

Rowan grinned teasingly at you. “All right, then. I’ll be on my way, Professor.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Remus felt horribly guilty about what had happened between the two of you – of him calling you, “Lovely” and you running out like that in the staff room. He hadn’t meant to press anything onto you. Truly, he didn’t. He knew he had no right to do so.

Not only that, but he was also suffering with a different issue altogether. He was grappling with whether or not he should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. He felt that he had a responsibility to tell Dumbledore this, since it was highly likely that Sirius was using his Animagus form as a disguise.

However, the mere idea of telling Dumbledore that he had betrayed Dumbledore’s trust and led three other students to become Animagi illegally, when Dumbledore had so kindly let him attend Hogwarts and even given him a job despite all of the protests from other staff members, made Remus want to shrivel up and disappear.

On top of that, tonight was the full moon, and Remus’ entire body was aching already. Remus let out a long, controlled breath. All right, he told himself. Take it one step at a time. Let’s go apologize to Lovely first, and then we’ll see about talking to Dumbledore.

Remus forced himself to trek up to your office. He lifted a trembling hand. He half-hoped you weren’t there.

Knock, he urged himself.

He did. His hand fell across your door and a ringing knock sounded out.

The door opened.

“I’m aware you don’t wish to see me, but I only came to say that I’m – I’m - ” Remus stuttered to a stop, for there was none other than Rowan Scamander standing at your door, filling up your doorway.

Rowan paused. His face scrunched up for a moment as he tried to place Remus. Then, he said cheerfully, “Ah, right. You’re Lupin, aren’t you? We used to be prefects together.”

“Uh, yes, that’s – that’s true.”

“Who - ?” You peeked around Rowan to see who was at your door that was mumbling so quietly, but you fell silent when you saw that it was Remus.

Rowan stepped past Remus and left.

“Yes?” you said quietly to Remus.

“I was just going to say – Hagrid told me to tell you that, um, Artemis misses you,” Remus made up, speaking quite feebly.

“Oh.” A pregnant pause arose between the two of you. Finally, you replied, “Well, I’ll go down after classes today to Hagrid’s.”

“Right. Right, then.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, and you closed your office door.

You didn’t see Remus falling back against the hallway wall. You didn’t see him reach up and clutch at his heart.

But you, too, were still standing there, clutching at your own heart. When I first saw Remus back at Hogwarts, I wondered if we might find our way back to each other. And when he called me ‘Lovely’ again, my heart just about leapt out of my chest. But it’s been nearly a year, and he still feels as far away from me as ever.

I don’t think – you blinked hard – I don’t think it was our age or career or even finances that led to our break-up when we were younger. If something like that was the issue, wouldn’t we be together now? But we’re not. And I always thought that the little things that brought us together – like having the same hiding spaces would bring us together for good someday, but maybe it’s just not enough in the real world. Yeah, maybe the truth is that we’re simply not right for each other. And Remus knows this already. Remus figured this out all of those years ago, and perhaps the reason that I one-sidedly still keep hoping for us to come together is just because I never had any real closure on my end…

* * * * * * * * * *

It was your very last class of the year, and there were three girls absent in your class. You kept expecting them to walk in late, but none of them arrived – and before you knew it, class was over. Worried, you asked your class what was going on.

One of the Gryffindor boys, Dean Thomas, answered, “There’s some good-looking bloke lounging underneath the tree by the Great Lake. The girls are pretty taken by him.”

“A good-looking bloke?”

You walked over to the classroom window and wrenched the curtains open. You put your hands up to the window and peered down – and sure enough, a gaggle of girls were gathered together, whispering excitedly to each other and generally fluttering around the tree, beneath whom sat –

“Tristan Graves,” you growled to yourself. “You arrogant bastard, what are you doing down there? Stealing my girls away from class with your stupidly handsome face…”

* * * * * * * * * *

You marched down to where Tristan was. As you did, you overheard the girls saying all sorts of ridiculous things.

“Have you seen his eyes? Vivid green, I tell you!”

“He’s so sharply-dressed. And so handsome.”

“There’s a streak of silver in his hair. Did you see that?”

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” You stood in front of Tristan – though you had to stand precariously on the very edge of the shore – and you folded your arms over your chest.

Tristan looked up at you. “Excellent. Stand right there and don’t move.”

“What?”

Tugging his right glove off to adjust his tie (one of the girls behind him swooned at this little motion), Tristan murmured, “I was hoping for some shade, and then you appeared. So, don’t move. Very hot here, isn’t it?”

“It’s May,” you said dismissively.

“I’m aware of the month. I was commenting on the temperature.” Tristan pulled his other glove off, and then he threw the pair of gloves merrily behind him.

“Ah! Catch it!”

“I want it!”

“Move! It’s mine!”

The girls all jostled with each other to catch the gloves, as if it were a bouquet toss at a wedding.

You scowled. “Does this amuse you, to act like some hoity-toity superstar?”

“It doesn’t amuse me,” Tristan replied, despite the pleased smirk on his face. “It amuses them.” He jerked his head at the girls behind him.

You both watched for a moment as Millicent Bulstrode tackled poor Hannah Abbott onto the ground in order to snatch Tristan’s glove away her. Meanwhile, Lavender Brown, who had managed to catch the other glove, was scratching wildly to fend off the other girls.

Fed up, you shouted at them, “Girls! What do you think you’re doing? Shoo!” You waved your arms at them.

The girls all laughed as they ran off as quickly as they could.

Shaking your head, you turned back to Tristan, “And what does Cas think of this?”

“Cas doesn’t care. She isn’t like you. She doesn’t get caught up on unimportant things.”

You hesitated. Is it just me, or has Tristan changed? I mean, he was just as arrogant before, but there’s a lightness to him now, a true joking nature, that wasn’t there before.

“Did you chase away all those girls just to enjoy me by yourself?” Tristan asked you, catching you staring at him.

You angrily blew out a breath. “Will you please go somewhere where you won’t distract the students?”

“It’s not my fault if my mere appearance is more interesting to them than your entire class,” Tristan responded silkily.

At this, you leaned down and grabbed a fistful of his fine silk shirt. “Listen here, you bastard - ”

“Ahem.”

Both you and Tristan looked up to see Remus Lupin standing a few feet away. He had mustered up the courage to go to Hagrid’s where he hoped you would be, so he could try to apologize to you again. Stepping forward, he asked lightly, “Is there a problem?”

“There’s no problem,” Tristan answered at once.

You replied, at exactly the same time, “He won’t move, and he’s distracting all the students.”

“Er – how’s he distracting the students when he’s just sitting there?” Remus asked, confused.

Tristan’s eyes glinted as he looked at you. “Yes, educate me, teacher: How am I distracting the students?”

“Well, you know, because he’s – well, because the students find him – um, handsome,” you said begrudgingly.

“But you don’t,” Tristan added knowingly, smirking broadly now.

“No, I don’t.”

“And you’ve never?”

“I’ve never.”

“That’s interesting, because as I recall, you once - ”

“Tristan Graves, you shut up,” you growled at him.

Remus, who had been following your conversation as a spectator would a tennis match – with his head whipping back and forth repeatedly between the two of you - finally asked, “Do you two know each other?”

“No,” you said flatly.

“Well, if I don’t know you, then why should I listen to you?” Tristan asked, openly teasing you now.

“I told you,” you said impatiently, “it’s because you’re distracting the stu – AH!” You screamed suddenly, for the Giant Squid, who had been silently sneaking up onto the shore, abruptly grabbed your shin with a slimy tentacle.

The Giant Squid, pleased with its sneak attack and curious as to what exactly it was gripping, gave your leg another slimy squeeze.

Screaming bloody murder, you leapt onto Remus, who immediately yanked you away from the shoreline.

“Oh Merlin,” you breathed out. Then, a terrible throbbing started up in your other ankle. While trying to escape, you’d turned too fast and twisted your ankle.

Tristan stood up and peered down at the shoreline. The Squid’s tentacle was still there, squirming about as it looked for something else to grab. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s the Giant Squid.”

All three of you turned around to see Rowan coming up behind you all. He came up to the shoreline and then, leaning down with his hands in his pockets, he kicked lightly at the Squid’s tentacle. “Hey, you. Get back in the waters.”

The Squid’s tentacle quietly withdrew back into the waters, almost as though ashamed.

You gingerly put your foot down. Unfortunately, as soon as your foot touched the grass, a jolt of pain shot up your leg. You tried to stay quiet, biting the inside of your cheek.

Besides you, Remus, who had instantly noticed that you were hurt, offered, “Let me take you to the Hospital Wing.”

“I can go up by myself.”

“Well, sure, I’m not contesting that. But I’d like to come with you.”

“Remus, I said I’m - ”

Remus gently wrapped his arm around your waist. “Please?”

You stared at him. His hazel eyes, ever so soft, glimmered in the evening sunlight.

“For me?” he said gently, as if he were the one asking you for a favor.

You sighed and your head drooped in defeat. You never could resist Remus. “Fine,” you mumbled. “Then, just take me to Hagrid’s, please. No need for the Hospital Wing.”

“All right. Put your arm around me.”

You slid your arm around Remus’ shoulders. You both tried to wobble forward together. However, Remus was so much taller than you that he ultimately had to pick you up right off the ground and carry you to Hagrid’s.

You were very careful to keep your hood on and to keep your cloak tucked underneath yourself because you could feel it – you could feel that your ears were still out and you could feel your tails swishing gently against the back of your thighs.

“Are you all right?” Remus checked with you, for he felt you fidgeting in his arms as you tried to keep your cloak tucked underneath you.

“I’m really fine, Remus.”

“Right.” Remus bit his lower lip. “Sorry, I’ll stop asking.”

No, don’t, you wanted to say, but you kept quiet.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rowan watched you go, carried off by Remus. She seems quite close to Lupin. Shaking his head a little, he turned to Tristan. “What are you doing here?”

Tristan nodded towards the Forbidden Forest. “Susana and Cas are scoping out the forest for the Obscurial. I’m keeping watch, making sure the students stay away from the forest.”

“You’ve been relegated to guard duty?” Rowan smirked, amused.

“Excuse me,” Tristan replied cuttingly, “I sent them on a mission.”

“Or so they would have you believe, when the truth is that you’re useless to them,” Rowan said knowingly.

Tristan held onto his arrogant demeanor for a moment longer, before he finally sighed and admitted, “Can I help it when Cas is the best Tracker MCUSA’s ever had and Susana’s the culmination of a legendary magical bloodline?”

Rowan chuckled at this. “No, I don’t suppose you can.”

* * * * * * * * * *

As soon as Hagrid opened the door, Artemis caught your scent. She came bounding up to the door, quite happy that you were here - but then, she paused and wrinkled her nose unhappily. She not only smelled another fox on you, but she also smelled that wolf-man scent. Urgh, she thought to herself. Bad smells. No-good smells. Still, she trotted along Remus dutifully as he brought you over to Hagrid’s huge sofa.

“What happened?” Hagrid asked.

“I twisted my ankle,” you said briskly. “Hagrid, if you’ve got any medicine to cure idiots, I’d like it now.”

Remus’ eyes lightened, as he held back a laugh.

Hagrid chuckled, too. “Nonsens’. But I’ve got some herbs and bandages to help prevent swellin’ and the like. I’ll be righ’ back.” With that, he went outside.

Remus saw the way your hood was covering your forehead. You seemed to be quite warm, sweating a little, in fact. So, he reached down to push your hood up a little. However, quicker than in the blink of an eye, you snatched his wrist and stopped him.

“Don’t!”

Remus froze.

“Please don’t push my hood down,” you whispered.

“All – All right,” Remus replied, shaken by your sudden yell.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

“Should I go away?” Remus wondered aloud. “I wanted to help, but if I’m simply getting in your way, I should go. Perhaps I could ask Rowan to come here - ”

“No.”

Remus hesitated. “No?”

“All righ’. Here we are.” Hagrid appeared just then, carrying a bundle of herbs, a bucket of cool spring water, and a clean towel. Turning to Remus, Hagrid said, “Could you wring out the rag? Make sure it’s not too hot or anythin’. I’ll prepare the herbs.”

Remus took the towel and wrung out the water. Then, Hagrid handed Remus some of the healing herbs. Remus wrapped them into the steaming towel and gently pressed it against your sprained ankle.

“Does that help?”

“I think so…”

“I’m going to push up your cuff a little, all right?”

You nodded. You lifted your foot to help Remus roll back the cuff of your jeans.

“Good girl,” Remus murmured softly.

You both paused, as the words had simply slipped out of Remus’ lips. He blushed a little and kept his head down for the next five minutes.

In that time, you found yourself just gazing at him. As the adrenaline of being grabbed by the Squid slowly bled away, your eyelids began to feel a bit heavy.

Remus peeked up, catching the way your eyes were slowly and softly fluttering shut. An almost helpless smile appeared on his face, as he watched you fall asleep.

Remus was very attentive to you. He changed your towel, to make sure it wasn’t getting cold. When he re-applied the warm towel to your ankle, you shifted and murmured, “Remus…”

With your head resting more comfortably on the sofa, Remus saw those familiar shadows that he loved so much – the shadows of your eyelashes, casting a pattern of flickering grey foxtail ferns on your skin just under your eyes. He wished he could go back to the days where he could make you smile just by bringing you potted foxtail ferns.

Without realizing it, Remus slowly leaned in closer to you. But then, he hesitated – for your shifting on the couch had brought about other shadows too.

Remus suddenly drew back, horrified, when he thought he caught the shadows of a tail surrounding you, curled up around your waist.

What in the world? He blinked furiously. The tails disappeared.

Was that me? he wondered, trembling. Was that my possessive nature coming out again, like it did that terrible night after we first made love, and I had to ask for her again? Is that the beast within me wanting to claim her? It’s the full moon tonight. And that is what I would do if I had a tail – I’d wrap it around her to keep her safe and to have her by my side. But no, that’s wrong! That can’t be.

Remus quickly made to push himself away from you. However, the weight of his hands pressing into the couch made your hood slip off –

Remus’ mouth fell open. What are those…? No – But they look like… ears, on top of her head…

When Remus abruptly pushed himself away from the couch, the motion jostled the couch, slowly calling you back to consciousness. You blinked your eyes open.

You smiled tiredly when you saw Remus. “Rem, you’re here…” You reached out and took his hand in yours. Turning slightly to bury your face against the pillow to sleep more, you exhaled lightly, whispering, “Thank God, I dreamed you left… Mm…” That motion – of you turning into the pillow – exposed your ears, so that Remus saw them even more clearly.

“Merlin,” Remus breathed out, not quite believing what he was saying.

“I know, I know, but five more minutes,” you mumbled. “Promise I’ll make breakfast.” Your ears twitched when you spoke.

“O-Okay, but ‘s not the problem,” Remus stuttered out, not even sure of what he was saying to you. “Because – see, uh, is it just me, or are there ears on top of your head?”

Suddenly, your eyes flashed open. Oh my God. Your mind was abruptly yanked out of the past and into the present.

You sat up at once, and you saw the way Remus was looking at you – with horror on his face. No, no, no… I didn’t want him to see me like this! I don’t want him to know how pathetic become!

“I – Remus – please don’t – This isn’t what you think!” Not that you even knew what he was thinking, but…

Remus simply stared at you, open-mouthed.

Unable to take it any longer, you pushed yourself off of the couch and dashed out of Hagrid’s, while yanking your hood up over your head.

“What’s goin’ on?” Hagrid appeared. Artemis, who had tried to chase after you, was suddenly stopped by Hagrid’s gentle arms. She yelped, frustrated, and nibbled angrily at Hagrid, but he didn’t even notice.

Remus stood up dizzily. “Hagrid…”

“Oh, she forgot her medicinal balm and her bandages,” Hagrid noticed, seeing the small tin can and pile of bandages left beside the couch.

“Right, I’ll – uh – I’ll take them up to her.” Remus slowly gathered the balm and bandages in his arms. Then, he realized – Wait, Lovely’s ankle is still hurt. She shouldn’t be running!

All at once, Remus was rushing out of the door himself, as he was worried about you. “Hagrid-thanks-I’ll-see-you-later!”

Artemis whined in confusion. Hagrid looked down at her, and for a moment, both the gentle giant and the small fox cocked their heads at each other, unsure of what was going on.

* * * * * * * * * *

Susana, Cas, Tristan, and Rowan were gathered underneath the tree by the lake.

“We’ll need to do further searches tomorrow,” Cas was saying, “but Susana and I are fairly certain that the Obscurial’s still around here. Rowan, you said one of the Professors could help us by leading us to where she last saw the Obsurcial, right? So, after classes tomorrow, perhaps we should– er – who is that?”

The group turned to see you, racing up as the hill as fast as you could, while limping and desperately clutching onto your hood to keep it over your head.

“Well, speak of the Devil - that’s the very Professor,” Rowan said, with laughter in his voice.

Cas hesitated. “Does she… Has she ever learned how to run?”

Tristan snorted.

“She’s limping,” Susana realized. “Why is she limping?”

“She was trying to tell me off, when the Giant Squid sided with me,” Tristan replied.

Susana looked at her Master with a politely confused stare, while Cas gave it to Tristan straight, asking him, “Did the heat fry your brain, Tristan? What the hell are you talking about?”

Rowan interrupted, “Anyways, shall we return - ?” He fell silent, however, when he heard a feeble cry of “Wait! You’re not healed yet!” ring out, and then, Remus Lupin came sprinting up the hill back towards the castle, with bandages falling out of his arms. At once point, a tiny metal container flew out of his arms and clanked its way merrily down the hill. Cursing, Remus ran back and picked it up before running up towards the castle again.

“All right,” Cas said uncertainly, “maybe no one at Hogwarts is in their right mind.”

Tristan agreed easily, “Yes. Explains a lot about Rowan, doesn’t it?”

Rowan sighed. “I used to think it was the Obscurial that made you such an ass, but it turns out that it’s just you.”

Tristan smirked. “I do like to think that I out-sassed the Obscurial. But we’ll see.” However, his voice turned business-like as he said, “Tomorrow night. Let’s hunt that Obscurial down.”

* * * * * * * * * *

You entered the castle far ahead of Remus. Even injured, you were quite quick on your feet. Part of it, of course, was motivated by the desperation you felt because the Fox was close to bursting out of you.

Not thinking straight, you simply went where your feet took you. Once in a private space, you collapsed onto the floor, ignoring the pounding in your head, the tightness in your stomach, and the warmth blossoming between your legs. You buried your face in your hands.

I told you, the Fox said, both pitying you and exasperated with you, being near that man, Remus, will only lead to my taking over you more quickly.

Just then, Remus’ head popped up from the trapdoor-like opening in the floor. Of course he knew where to find you. He instinctively knew you’d be up here, in your hiding spot.

Seeing you on the floor, curled up in your cloak and trembling slightly, Remus hurried over to you. “You’re not well. Let me help you - ”

“You can’t.”

Remus paused. “What?”

You finally sat up. Remus watched as your cloak slipped off of you. She really does have ears, and tails, even.

“What are you?” Remus wondered aloud. For a moment, his heart fluttered hopefully. Is she also a were-creature? Because then… she might not be in danger from me anymore.

However, his happiness only lasted a brief second, for he realized what he was hoping for. No! How could you hope for that? he admonished himself at once. You know how isolating and draining it is to be a werewolf. How could you wish that upon Lovely?

But then, the tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind, what is she?

The intense shame and heartbreak you were feeling, just from seeing the way Remus was looking at you, carved out a huge space in your soul, leaving in hollow. You gasped and clutched at your chest.

Child, I can’t hold back much longer. Your soul is at risk! the Fox cried out warningly.

Remus’ eyes became steely, as he realized that you were hurting. “Never mind,” he said decisively. “No time for explanation. Just tell me – how can I help you?” He made to reach out and take your hand, to help you up, but you pushed his hand away – not angrily, but sorrowfully.

“You can’t,” you repeated.

Starting to get frustrated, Remus pressed, “Why not? Is it because you can’t trust me?”

“No,” you whispered, while still clutching your chest, “I know you truly want to help me. You’re as gentle and kind as ever. The truth is – Every time I see you, I remember exactly why I fell in love with you. But I have to move on from you, Remus. Trust me, I’ve been trying my hardest to get over you.”

Remus blinked. She still isn’t over me? Did I hear her right?

You continued, “I know it’s what you want, too. You’ve never wanted my love, and I don’t want to be someone who makes your life more difficult by pressuring you to accept my feelings. I’m sorry about everything, but the truth is – the truth is - ”

Remus’ heart ached as he took in your words, as he regretted how much you had understood his feelings for you, but the fact that you might still be in love with him started to make his heart lift hopefully – only, your next words came crashing down on Remus as brutally as an avalanche, as you whispered, “You hurt me, too. Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you have no idea how it felt when…”

You took a deep breath. Eyes shut tightly, you said the words that had been eating away at you ever since that fateful day where Remus had abruptly ended things with you: “You cut my heart right out of my chest, when you didn’t even let me hold onto you. I said that I’d be anything you wanted me to be for you, and I meant it, and you still didn’t want me.”

Little one! the Fox yelled desperately. She rammed her snout hard against the inside of your chest. Stop yourself! Stop it! You’re going to - !

Darkness enveloped your mind. Eyes closed, body limp, you fell back onto the floor.

Remus stared in shock at you for a second, as a hundred different realizations and emotions swirled in his soul and cut at his heart. Then, his brain clunked back into action. He fell to his knees and he hurriedly put his head to your chest – thankfully, your heart was still going.

“Lovely,” he murmured desperately, as his arms came around you, and he hugged you to him tightly, “Lovely, answer me. Please, wake up! Lovely…!”

Just then, the last rays of the sun bled out over the horizon. As one wall of this strange attic room was composed entirely of glass, the heavy blood-orange light of the sun shone through intensely and blinded Remus for a second. Wincing, he turned his head away. He blinked hard, trying to get his vision back - only to see, pinned on the wall, a single piece of parchment. You had put the note back up on the wall when you first returned to Hogwarts. It a note that said, in loopy, uncertain cursive: “Thanks for the chocolate.” All of your notes on the Nine-Tailed Fox never made it back up on the wall – but that one did.

Remus broke. It struck him how much time had passed since he had last held you in his arms, and how the last time he had seen you, he had been convinced that breaking up would ultimately, make you happier. But you seemed to be suffering just as much as he was, so maybe even the one, noble, self-sacrificing thing Remus had tried to do in his life hadn’t even amounted to anything…

Eyes wet, Remus held you tighter in his arms and then, burying his face against your neck, he pressed his lips against your neck. He whispered aloud the words that he had always held in his heart, that killed him little by little, every time he saw you, because you were still (and undoubtedly would be forever) the girl he first fell in love with. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The whole point of – of our not being together – was for you to be s-safe and happy…”

But what was this? You were turning so cold, even though you were in his arms. Startled, Remus pulled back and looked down at you. To his terror, frost began to appear on your hands, your shoulders, your throat, your chest, even on your cheeks.

“Lovely,” Remus breathed out, in a hushed, scared voice. What’s happening to her? Did I somehow do this to her? Or has she been suffering like this the whole time, and I didn’t know? Remus’ warm tears splashed onto your face, washing away the frost threatening to creep up onto your face. But the rest of your body became steadily colder.

At that moment, when Remus felt the most helpless, that incredible survival instinct that was buried deep beneath his gentleness, even deeper than his dark self-hatred, suddenly took over. Get help for Lovely, it growled to him. No time to waste. Go. Go. Go.

Remus’ brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and his jaw became set. With that look of grim determination, he picked you up and quickly exited the room, focused only on doing whatever it would take to save you.

Tagged Users: @areomalfoy @saltstacks

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #rowan scamander #rowan scamander x reader #tristan graves #tristan graves x reader #foxtail and wolfsbane

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embersrpg · 2 years

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THE EMBERS HAVE IGNITED A BLAZE.

The instructions were very clear. There was a certain time and a certain place one had to be or else they were going to be left behind. That wasn’t a flexible time, or a flexible place. But as the time marches further, things become more and more tense.

Nelly is one of the first to arrive at the air craft, which is cold and rather quiet. Only stirring begins rather rather quickly outside of the walls she is air craft. Twig is not much longer behind her, arriving alone but the two give knowing yet nervous smiles to each other as they sit in silence. Swann is the next to arrive, sitting next to Nelly, their hands joined together in comfort.

The screen becomes more clear with what is going to happen inside the Quell. The Tributes are making their way towards the tree which they have wrapped with the wire provided by Silver. Unfortunately, they are not to be found by Peacekeepers, who have begun their patrol for high-suspect individuals, Silver being at the top of their list. This is also when Game Makers begin their combat against those in the Quell.

There’s not much time to argue, Robyn and Silver arrive hand-in-hand, long before the Peackeepers could find them, but their shift has focused, expanding their suspects to DeeZee and Ivory, among many others. Aldera attempts to get Riggs to leave with her, but their aim is to stay behind and watch to make sure Sage is alright. They will provide aid until the last moment. Pista’s sense of urgency pulls her away and the two make their way to the aircraft, unable to locate DeeZee, as much as they’d like to leave with him.

DeeZee and Ivory have their hands full, keeping Peacekeeprs occupied by leaving trails of their whereabouts around. It isn’t until they hear the footsteps of some rapidly approaching that Ivory tells DeeZee to leave, that she’ll happily go down with the rest of this place if it means things will be better. Unfortunately, DeeZee never really listened to instruction much, and if there were any place he’d rather be, it’s making sure Ivory isn’t subject to the Peacekeeps all on her own.

Griffin and Fava find each other shortly after his conversation with Nelly, and Fava immediately brings him up to speed about what happened with Snow. This gives Griffin even more urgency to tell her about making it to the safe place, and for once, Fava actually looks like she's about to do it, the fear of her encounter with Snow getting to her. When Griffin says he'll be hunting for Hudson in the meantime, however, Fava decides to stick with him and find them as well. With little time to argue, the two begin their search together.

It’s Dawn who finds themselves in hot water, getting cornered by a Peacekeeper who begins to question him with hostility. It seems however he answers the question, it’s wrong, and the Peacekeeper doesn’t have much flexibility in their perception of things. Seems they have their mind made up. And just when he’s certain this is his end, Riggs approaches, using the ever-off-kilter personality to distract the Peacekeeper’s focus from Dawn, and put it onto themselves. Whatever words they choose, it’s enough to make the Peacekeeper suspicious, and begins to lead Riggs away for further questioning. As they’re being sent off, they give a crooked smile to Dawn and nod. Not long after that, Dawn stays within close proximity to Slate in the Game room, who is still shaking hands with many other viewers, solidifying money.

Aven finds Heron, who is frantically tending to something which is uncertain. While everyone seems good at pretending that nothing is going on, there’s an undercurrent that feels tense, and violent. Heron says something about a task requests by Plutarch, Aven says it doesn’t matter and it’s time to go. But Heron, who is not used to being in the public so much, and not used to tip-tooeing around a rebellion so much, finds herself causing too much of a stir going back and forth with Aven, who is clearly only trying to help. A fact that seems to cause the attention of a Peacekeeper, who being questioning the interaction between the two women. Before Heron can jump in, Aven confesses to trying to finesse money out of Heron for those left in the Quell. A confession that made the Peacekeeper plenty suspicious, given from whom it came from. Heron, now flushed with panic, watched as Aven is lead off for further questioning. After this, she abandons her task and arrives at the air craft.

After both parties are able to clear themselves of their responsibilities, Dawn and Slate are able to escape onto the aircraft.

Griffin and Fava, still on the hunt for Hudson, finally locates them and frantically begins to usher them away from the Game room and off in the direction of where the air crafts are. Unfortunately, it is at this time that Peacekeeps begin to close in on them. They’re not concerned about Griffin, but they’re making moves to take Fava and Hudson away from his leading hand. He begin to argue with them, forgoing the act of drunk man in order to help Fava and Hudson. There’s a struggle, Fava beginning to shout for hands to be removed from her person, and Hudson who just looked concerned. It’s a bold move, but Griffin makes the urgent choice to reach for one of the batons at the hip of the Peacekeeper.

While his hand wraps around it, he finds that he’s not fast enough, and another Peacekeeper strikes him down across the face with his baton, a move that sends him to the ground, almost immediately filling his sight with the color red. Fava begins to wail in a fit of rage, tearing from grasps but it’s another figure who comes out next, helping bring Griffin to his feet.

Plutarch aims to deescalate the situation, calming the Peacekeepers over the situation and tell them to leave the children alone. Unfortunately, it’s not one that goes over well once the Peacekeepers share they’ve been meant to bring Plutarch in for questioning. In a rush, Plutarch is grasped, given enough time to knock aside the Peacekeeper holding Fava. He is grasped instead, as is Hudson, and the man yells for the other two to run. In an instant lacking thought but only drive, Griffin takes Fava by the hand and drags her away, darting and dashing away from the Peacekeepers. They’re able to distract them, running through different hallways until they’re able to get back to the track of the air craft. They’re the last to arrive. Griffin, pouring blood and Fava screaming in protest, both are sedated, and only minutes later, the air craft has left the Capitol.

When they look around, they take note that Aven, DeeZee, Hudson, Riggs, Emory, Astraea, Virgo, Ivory, Digit, Pearl, Auburn,, and Plutarch, are not around them. They’re back there. There’s a moment of silence and understanding that their sacrifice or their misfortune will not be in vain.

Heron, Bandi, Coco, Emerald, however, sit beside the rest of them, hands clasped tightly around someone that brings them comfort. It’s the end now. Or just the beginning of it.

Just a few hours later, when the rescue mission is performed, there are eager eyes waiting. No one has seen what has happened since they left, some seeing more than others, but no one knows for certain who will be coming up from that lift. As they take turns seeing, they can see the medical beds filled with a handful of bloodied bodies.

Those bodies are Zero, Abe, Harbor, Holly, Wren, and Tilsee.

THE FACTS:

We’re done

You did it

You made it to the end of a tumblr rpg.

How often does that happen?

#embersplot #i'm not crying ur crying #actually we're all crying

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mermaidsirennikita · 1 year

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October 2022 Book Recommendations

Hey hey hey I read a lot of books this month and found a lot of new favorites and explored different genres and I did in fact begin the Immortals After Dark series which still has me by the neck so all in all a really good reading month.

The Ranger by Monica McCarty. Arthur Campbell is behind enemy lines, spying for Robert the Bruce--which has led him to stay as a guest of the man who murdered his father. Unbeknownst to him, Anna, his enemy's daughter, has been instructed to spy on him turn.

This book was just angsty excellence. Arthur and Anna are instantly attracted to each other, but it just! Cannot! BE!!! And McCarty is completely shameless about putting them together *just because*. Anna is supposed to marry another man to solidify an alliance? It's Arthur's job to escort her to the guy's castle, of course. The moment when people Realize Things and the fallout from that... chef's kiss. This one has a bit less sex than The Chief and The Hawk (though there's still a lot of explicit shit going on--including an unintentional "just the tip" scene, which I love) and that's my only big complaint. I really adore the way these books are basically modern updates of old school medievals, and I'll never be over it.

Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage by Jennifer Ashley. Isabella met Mac MacKenzie on the night of her coming out ball, and married him that same evening. But three years into their marriage, she left him with little more than a note, and they've lived separate lives (even if they're still legally married) ever since then. A forger attempting to take Mac's artistic identity has Isabella back in his life, however--and as it turns out that the thief wants a lot more than Mac's name, Mac becomes determined to protect his wife... and reignite their marriage.

This book. Was incredible. One of my favorites of the year, for sure, and everything you could possibly want out of a marriage in trouble book. Mac and Isabella are nursing serious problems--and while he's hardly perfect (he's still very much a scoundrel, and doesn't fully comprehend the issues that drove Isabella to leave him) Mac has been doing the work in the years that she's been gone, which is what I think makes this book so good. Having Isabella in his orbit again makes Mac decide that it's time to get her back, but he's been setting the stage ever since she left him. It feels like he truly values her, truly loves her... and he truly did fuck up, and she was way too young to get married that first go around, and both of them had a lot of emotional work to do. Isabella is a fabulous heroine--sensual and hungry and combative and withdrawn all at once. She's the one who's holding back, and Mac is the one who just worships her. There's some really emotional shit dealt with in this book (tw: pregnancy loss in the past) and it never feels like Jennifer Ashley skims over any of it, though she also keeps the pacing quick. Additionally, there were a couple of moments in which there could have been a dumb misunderstanding, and there never was. It truly feels like Mac and Isabella know each other, and that's what lends an authentic air to the story. Love love love, could not recommend enough.

The League of Gentlewomen Witches by India Holton. Charlotte is the prophesied heir to a league of crafty but nevertheless prim and proper witches, and she never has a hair out of place. But when her hunt for a powerful amulet brings her into the path of rakish pirate Alex O'Reilly, she has no choice but to team up with someone who very much wants to help her let her hair down. As Alex and Charlotte get closer--verrrry much closer--over the course of their quest, she can't escape her responsibilities. Can she?

This one! Is! So good! I loved the first book in the Dangerous Damsels series (which I would personally recommend reading before this one, as it's charming as fuck and a great world primer) but this one blew it out of the water. While Ned and Cecilia were more of a slow burn sexually, Alex and Charlotte... don't waste any time. They're just releasing tension! It has to be done! How else could she possibly focus? But emotionally, they're a slow burn, and I'm trash for that. They rely on each other to stay alive on a perilous adventure, they have sex every night and most days, but oh no, it's not EMOTIONALLY INTIMATE. They both have issues expressing their feelings, and they're both ridiculously endearing. Alex has some liiiiiines and Charlotte is constantly getting him hot and bothered without even realizing it (we do get a "Oh God, she's wearing pants and I'm totally undone) moment. The world remains delightful--all quirky thievery and zany flying house shenanigans. But this one takes the emotions a bit deeper than the first, and I was smiling throughout.

Play by Kylie Scott. Anne has been fucked over by her roommate and left without half the rent or even living room furniture. Fortunately, she has also been descended upon by famous drummer Mal Ericson, whose bandmate recently married Anne's friend. Mal needs a fake girlfriend (for reasons he won't specify) and Anne needs someone to help with the bills--so despite Mal's rather zany, over the top personality, she has no choice but to agree. But living with him may make the situation a lot more complex...

I've been read Stage Dive out of order (read the last book, which features Mal and Anne's wedding, first)--and that actually solidified my belief that romances should be read in order. So I started from the beginning, and despite really wanting to get into book 3, I was determined to read book 2 first, even though I was sure Mal would be too much for me. And at first, he was. Reading between the lines, it's clear that Mal has some sort of hyperactivity-related disorder that I do think Kylie Scott could've addressed, and Anne's entire issue is that Eldest Daughter Syndrome has made her something of a doormat who just wants to give people what they need. But after a somewhat jarring beginning, I was totally charmed by this one, just like I was by Lick and Deep before it. Mal and Anne just get along really well, and I love how much he cares for and advocates for her. She's not a wilting flower, but she is prone to taking the L in order to give people what they want--and Mal speaks up for her and calls out situations where she deserves to be treated better. Inevitably, he does fuck up, and there IS a puppy grovel............................... And I'm a sucker for a puppy grovel. It's not my favorite in the series, but it is very fun (and funny) and while maintaining a lot of heart. Also--it has an excellent car sex scene.

Lead by Kylie Scott. Jimmy Ferris is the lead singer of world-famous band Stage Dive, and he's in trouble. After years of addiction and multiple overdoses, he's alienated his bandmates--especially his brother, David--and is close to collapse. While he's clean post-rehab, he needs a sober living companion... which is why the band hires Lena, a professional, hard-nosed woman who doesn't take any shit from him. But after months of working for and living with Jimmy, Lena realizes that her feelings for him have gone beyond even friendship, and she's determined to move on and find a replacement. But Jimmy? Is never going to let that happen.

This was the last Stage Dive book I had left, and it was my favorite. I highly anticipated it after reading Lick--David was great, but his strung out, horrible older brother who slept with his girlfriend years ago, never really apologized for it, and hit on his new girlfriend before almost dying at a party? GIVE ME THAT. And what makes this work is that a) we're post-rehab, so while Jimmy's addictions are a big issue, he is sober and in recovery for this book and b) Lena is the ideal heroine for him. For all that he'll brood and snark, she throws it right back at him and has him by the balls from day one. But of course, because Jimmy is extremely emotionally withholding, she doesn't realize she does. And it is somewhat of a slow burn. Even after they have objectively great sex, Jimmy literally runs off and won't kiss her on the mouth. But the payoff is soooo good. The emotional connection between them is excellent. And then you get to see them have a nice happy relationship in the next book (which sees Lena knocked up IMMEDIATELY because they're dumbasses). Everyone wins! I loved this series. A little indulgent, very hot, and kind of problematic--that's what I want in contemporary romance.

Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night b Kresley Cole. 1,200 year old werewolf Bowen MacRieve has been in misery and attempting to resurrect his mate, Mariah, ever since her accidental death nearly two centuries ago (never mind that her death was due to her being terrified of his attempts to claim her). His last chance seems to be a prize in the midst of a mystical competition, a key that will turn back time. But there are many other supernatural beings chasing it, among them Mariketa the Awaited, a young witch foretold to have incredible power, who doesn't seem quite capable of harnessing it. The competition throws Mariketa and Bowen in each other's paths, but the oddest thing seem to be that he recognizes her as his mate--something that shouldn't be possible. Deciding that Mariketa is Mariah's reincarnation, Bowen is determined to have her--and Mariketa is just as determined to avoiding being second best to anyone.

Motherfucking shit, I loved this book. I love Bowen and all of his stupid fuckboy antics, of which there are many. I love Mari and her inability to get her shit together. I love that she went to college on a cheerleading scholarship, then dropped out of college. I love that it's heavily implied that Bowen masturbates to her cheerleading videos. I love the incredibly intense magical bondage shifted sex scene, and the way he fucks it up IMMEDIATELY after. I love that so much of this book was two people who seem to not be able to stand each other (when they really just wanna bone) on a magical quest together, and then there's a private island interlude, and then there's a MASSIVE ANGST OBSTACLE, and at one point Bowen goes completely apeshit on some people and then chases a terrified Mari through the woods with blood and gore dripping from his jaws because it's the full moon and that means CLOBBERIN' TIME (sexual). The werewolf lore in this series... is everything to me. There was one thing I found dated (not related to the romance) but otherwise... this was really, really good. I was actually incredibly soft for them at the end. It wasn't just about werewolf fucking, IT WAS REAL FOR ME.

Her Halloween Treat by Tiffany Reisz. Joey just found out that her boyfriend of two years is married, and she's leaving Hawaii to return home to Oregon for a bit of rest and relaxation as her brother plans his wedding. The only problem is that the contractor working on the cabin is Chris, her brother's best friend--who had a thing for her in high school. But maybe it's not a problem, as Chris is offering rebound sex and is a shockingly great lay. Or maybe it IS still a problem, as this may be going from a rebound fling to something real...

It's been a long time since I've read a category romance, but this one is legendary and now... I want to shoot Harlequin Blaze novels into my veins. This was also my first Tiffany Reisz, and I'm now thoroughly charmed. To me, Harlequin categories read like early 2000s heyday romcoms. They're relatively low conflict compared to most books I prefer, the plots are simple, they don't fuck around (except... for sure they fuck around with the fucking). This book is no exception--quick and to the point, but with a lot of heart. The sex in this one is honestly pretty phenomenal, and Reisz is skillful enough to sell the romance emotionally in a limited amount of page time. And despite sounding kind of basic.... Chris FUUUUUUUUCKED. I can't complain.

Dark Needs at Night's Edge by Kresley Cole. Ballerina--and scandalous former burlesque dancer--Neomi is murdered at the height of her triumph in 1926, and spends the next century trapped in the home she loved, watching people who don't see or hear her. Until the vampiric Wroth brothers arrive, trapping their bloodlust-maddened youngest brother, Conrad, in attempt to break through his centuries of madness. The plan is to make Conrad stable enough to help him find his Bride--the one person who will make his heart beat and give him something other than killing to care about. As a ghost, Neomi doesn't make Conrad's heart beat--but he is the only person who can see and speak to her. And heartbeat or not, he quickly begins to want a lot more.

Ugh, this had my heart from beginning to end. Neomi is possibly? My favorite romance heroine of all time. She's fun, she's sexy, and she's angry at what happened to her, and she wants. She wants pretty clothes and things and to enjoy life, she wants everything she was denied (and as a heads up--Neomi's murder is shown on page, and though it's not particularly drawn out, she is stabbed to death by her abusive former fiance) and she really wants Conrad. And yet, they cannot be! Not only because he can't touch her--even if he could, without meeting his Bride, Conrad literally can't get hard. And he's a virgin! A hero who swore a vow of chastity when he joined an order of vampire killing warriors, only to be forcibly turned into a vampire by his brothers, which broke his brain!! This is the second Wroth brothers book I've read, and while I enjoyed Sebastian's, I don't think it fully hammered home the the horror of Nikolai and Murdoch (more Nikolai, but still) forcing vampirism on Sebastian and Conrad. It was an ultimate betrayal of trust, and a lot of Conrad's insanity is due to that loss of identity and betrayal, no matter how good Nikolai's intentions were. The family drama in this book is kind of incredible. The brothers love him so much! They just want their lil incel assassin to get laid and find love! And God, the love story. It's tragic. It's funny. It's incredibly hot. The dirty talk, the actual sex, the agony of keeping secrets and withholding desire. It hurts so good. This series keeps getting better, and I was honestly blown away by how obsessed I was with Conrad and Neomi's love story. From the moment she did a spectral striptease for him to get him to admit that he could see her, to the moment he chopped his own hand off in order to escape his chains and make it work with her.... These two crazy kids can make it work.

The Warlord Wants Forever by Kresley Cole. Nikolai Wroth, Estonian warlord, agreed to serve vampire king Kristoff as his general in exchange for eternal life for himself and his brothers. Three centuries later, and Nikolai is a Forbearer, a vampire who eschews blood from the vein and fights the bloodthirsty Horde. That doesn't stop valkyrie femme fatale Myst the Coveted from going head to head with him in an encounter that reveals she is his Bride, and the only woman capable of Blooding him. Waking Nikolai's dead body and fleeing, Myst leaves him a state of sexual frustration and longing for five years before he tracks her down--and he's more than ready to turn the tables on her... Especially when he comes into possession of a chain that ensures he has total control of her body.

As you can probably guess from that summary, this one is dubcon galore! Which makes sense, as this is technically the first book in Immortals After Dark (though it's a novella). Like A Hunger Like No Other, the sexual dominance and aggression is a big theme. The difference here is that while Emma was a shy virgin who was very afraid of Lachlain initially, Myst is a confident, two thousand year old valkyrie who has an edge over Nikolai in experience, both as a warrior and a lover (an issue that is confronted pretty realistically, for a vampire book--Nikolai does feel inadequate at one point, even though he's the ultimate alpha male vampire fuck machine, as any IaD vampire hero should be). Plus... These two are very much tit for tat. With the tits. Is it bad that Nikolai snatches Myst's magical chain (a punishment she was given by the gods, and God I love how truly mythological and lore-like that felt) and makes her come on command? Twice? Yes. Is it bad that he makes her touch herself in front of him? Sure, though she totally decided to suck his dick of her own volition. But to be very fair here, Myst did VERY purposefully Blood Nikolai, knowing that she could get him so aroused that she'd be able to murder him, then basically left him with a painful five year boner because she was mad about attracted to him. So like. Yeah. They both fucked up. And Nikolai does do a great grovel after he gets some therapy. Plus, the sex in this, dubcon and otherwise, is incredibly hot. These two fuck for the first time spontaneously in a field and her sisters find them in the afterglow while he's still inside of her...And Myst's main concern is figuring out how to hop off of him without letting her sisters see how well hung he is. ALL HAIL MYSTY THE VAMPIRE LAYER.

Mating the Huntress by Talia Hibbert. Chastity comes from a long line of werewolf hunters, though she's always been prohibited from hunting herself. When she recognizes the quiet guy visiting the coffee shop she works at as a werewolf, she decides to kill him to prove herself to her relatives. What she doesn't know is that Luke is there for a reason: he's recognized her as his mate, and he's determined to have her.

This novella is decidedly sweeter than most werewolf books I've read, but it's QUITE worth it, and very wolfy. Luke just wants to please Chastity. He doesn't want to claim her aggressively, but he does want to claim her and give everything she wants, even after he realizes she wants to kill him. Fortunately, she also wants to fuck him--and this book is QUITE hot. It's got everything I love about Talia Hibbert contemporaries--humor, heart, and heat. With the added benefit of hot werewolf shenanigans! If you're wondering about whether you'll like paranormal romance, this may be a good place to start.

Dark Desires After Dusk by Kresley Cole. The demon Prince Cadeon Woede, otherwise known as Cadeon the Kingmaker, is known for toppling and installing monarchies. But his greatest shame is that he wasn't there when his brother, King Rydstrom, lost his crown. Cade spent the past year stalking his fated mate, the mortal math professor Holly Ashwin, with no intent of ever meeting her--until two things are revealed. A) Holly, unbeknownst to her, isn't as mortal as she seems and b) she's the Vessel, destined to bear a great warrior who (depending on its father) will side with good or evil. The evil side of the Lore wants Holly--and the child she'll be impregnated with. And they offer Cade the sword Rydstrom needs to get his crown back in exchange for her. But as he tricks Holly into traveling to her doom, Cade begins to realize that his connection with her goes beyond fate.

This was a RIDE. A virgin heroine who's meant to be impregnated with a dark or light messiah, on a road trip with a hot demon who's insecure about his intellect and just wants to serve her in ALL THE WAYS?? But he's lying to her the whole time? It's funny! It's angsty! It's reeeeeally hot, especially when Cade and Holly make an agreement to stop every 420 miles so that he can sexually satisfy her (but like... without penetration, right? Because he knows that he'll knock her up with an evil demon baby, riiiiight? He wouldn't stick it in, and she'd never be irresponsible enough to knowingly risk it, riiiiii--). One of my favorite notes of lore from this unabashedly horny series is that when an immortal is transitioning into that immortality, they become hypersensitive and therefore constantly horny. This was a thing with Mariketa in Wicked Deeds, and Holly also suffers from this affliction. Aw, nuts!!! But beyond how hot this book is, it once again really hits the emotion. Kresley is just super talented. I love that Cade feels like he failed Rydstrom, I love that he feels intellectually inferior to Holly and tries to make up for it by reading a lot of books. I love Holly's awakening to not only sex but just... fun and the world? I so enjoy when a heroine lets her hair down and gets drunk and makes the hero jealous by flirting with other guys. And look, Cade does some pretty reprehensible trickery in this, and I'm not entirely sure that he groveled quite enough but.... he did really grovel. And this is Immortals After Dark. It works. I was sold. I'm good with it, and I'm ready to see Rydstrom................ get edged.

Kiss of a Demon King by Kresley Cole. Rydstrom the demon king lost his crown to the deathless Omort centuries ago, leaving his people in peril. Now he's on the brink of getting it back--but he's distracted by a mysterious woman on the side of the road. She turns out to be the evil sorceress Sabine, Queen of Illusions and Omort's sister, who spirits him away to a dungeon in the demon realm. She's his fated queen, but she has no interest in love--rather, she must get him to both marry her and impregnate her with his heir, after which Rydstrom will be dealt with. The two begin a battle of wills--but calm, logical Rydstrom has a dark side neither fully anticipate, and Sabine may not be against it... at all.

THIS WAS. LIT. Listen, I'll put up a couple disclaimers. There are two things in this book, both of which are not big plot points, that I don't think would have been written into it today. Did it keep me from loving the book? No, but it's something to consider. Second: this is a book that is heavy on dubcon, and heavy on dom/sub dynamics. To be it frankly, Rydstrom is a dom who did not realize he was missing that in his sex life until this book, and Sabine is a bratty sub of the first order. She edges him while trying to quite literally steal his seed. He edges her in revenge. They emotionally edge each other by not being able to come to terms with their feelings (mostly her, to be fair to him). This is a book about EDGING. It is extremely hot, it is extremely angsty, it is prime enemies to lovers content--he makes her marginally more human while she encourages his worst instincts. Sabine and Rydstrom are two sides of the same coin--both older siblings with complicated dynamics with their younger siblings, ultimately hinging on a desire to protect them. Both hiding secret desires (hers for a family and love, his to let loose and dominate) and they are both fully able to help one another fulfill those desires... But they need to be able to be honest with each other first. It's actually a pretty deep book on that level. It is also extremely hot and funny. Sabine constantly being like "you don't know what it's like to endure HOURS of aborted orgasms" while Rydstom is like "OH FUCKING DON'T I???"is a highlight of romance novel history. I love watching two stupid people fall in love, especially when one of them is an exasperated man and the other his Sweet Baby Princess Angel (who he does, in fact, call a good girl at one point).

Untouchable by Kresley Cole. Murdoch Wroth was his brother's right hand before being transformed into a vampire--a transformation that ended his desire for sex and his reputation as a rake. He doesn't even want to be Blooded... but he has no choice upon meeting Daniella the Ice Maiden, a Valkyrie whose fey ancestry makes it impossible for her to be touched by anyone who isn't of her mother's people. Murdoch and Dani want each other more than anything; but if they can't touch, how can they spend eternity together?

This was so goooood. It's arguably the softest IAD book I've read, though not at all in a boring way. Murdoch and Dani's connection begins with essentially just a lot of intense sexual desire, but quickly deepens as they get to know each other, and it has a lot of romcom beats. She's desperately unfulfilled and untouched and hilariously horny; he's really annoyed by the fact that after centuries of trying to beat the rake charges, he's now lustful again and very much wanting to serve her every whim. And their conflict is truly excellent. They just want to touch each other, and their... solutions... for being unable to touch are pretty hot. It's less plotty than other IAD books due to its novella length, but I found it a great love story.

The Duke in Question by Amalie Howard. Read my review here.

Pleasure of a Dark Prince by Kresley Cole. Lucia the Huntress is a Valkyrie destined to subdue a cannibalistic god--and her goddess-granted archery skills are only guaranteed if she remains chaste. This becomes an issue when Garreth MacRieve, the Lykae prince, recognizes her as his mate. As Lucia goes on the run--in part to pursue her mission and in part to evade and resist Garreth--her werewolf follows... And their dual destinies will not be denied.

This book... is incredible. It's an amazing love story (with a fuckton of eroticism) that gives you everything you want out of a werewolf story. She's cool, calm, and collected--except for when she's around him. He's a hedonistic, wild animal of a hero... who tames his inner beast (.... somewhat) to respect her boundaries. The sexual tension in this one is INSANE. He gets her off within the first few chapters, and you are off to the races from there. Sex between bars! Sex on a boat! Any kind of sex but penetrative sex, because loopholes--but there's an inevitability to it all, because at the end of the day, Garreth can only deny his animal nature for so long. And I think that's part of the vibe of this book. Lucia is also denying her true self for much of it. It all feels super animalistic and primal because they are acting so civilized on the surface, even pretending to be human among mortals for much of it. Garreth is by far the least beastly werewolf hero I've read so far in this series (though trust and believe, he's an ANIMAL where it counts) and in the end he and Lucia really have to find a way to meet in the middle, to compromise for each other. I think that's why, in many ways, it reads as the most romantic IAD novel I've gone through so far. I mean, there's also a lot of adventuring on the Amazon and having Romancing the Stone/The Mummy vibes while Lothaire, Enemy of Old swoops in like Carmen Sandiego. So overall, an excellent book about love and trauma and sexuality and letting your inner freak out of the cage.

Demon from the Dark by Kresley Cole. Carrow is a party girl witch in trouble--she's been taken hostage by The Order, a collective intent on studying and eradicating immortals like her. She's already lost one friend to their clutches, and has vowed to save that friend's child... which is why she agrees to go to a demon realm to capture Malkolm Slaine, a demon/vampire warrior who the Order wants more than anything. But the animalistic Malkolm immediately recognizes Carrow as his, and she quickly realizes that he's not as bad as he seems--which makes the prospect of turning him over to The Order much harder than she thought it would be.

This one began the Torture Island arc of IAD, which is truly a fascinating, incredibly grim yet somehow entertaining storyline. Carrow is a fun heroine, a party girl trying to settle down and boldly introducing a giant demon man to the pleasures of the secular flesh. There's a huge Tarzan/Jane vibe to her relationship with Malkolm, along with a sizable heap of trauma recovery. Really, Malkolm's memories of being a sex slave as a child are a lot worse than what we experience of The Order directly in this book. But I will say--I know he's a really popular hero, and he is lovely and his romance with Carrow is quite sweet (also--he's a virgin ladies). However, he didn't work for me as much as other heroes in the series have, in part because despite being a bloodthirsty warrior who gives Carrow her enemies' heads... He's actually very sweet. Which is lovely! But he lacked the edge seen in my favorite virgin hero of the series, Conrad Wroth. Conrad felt truly psychologically dangerous and cunning, whereas Malkolm was innocent in ways that extended beyond sex, and that was a bit tough for me. Also, there's a kid in this one. However, I think this will be like, the ideal IAD book for many people who perhaps find the deranged heroes to be a bit much. I just like a deranged hero. Amazing bath scenes, though~

Heated Rivalry by Rachel Reid. Canadian Shane Hollander and Russian Ilya Rozanov are hockey players positioned as arch rivals on the ice, and with good reason. They're both rookies at the top of their game. Shane is a golden boy perfectionist with a wickedly competitive streak, whereas Ilya is a seemingly carefree alpha male who's never without a snarky remark that gets under Shane's skin. They're total opposites--and unbeknownst to the world, they hook up off the ice whenever possible. But through years of sneaking around, what began as belligerent sexual tension gives way to real emotion, and the two reach a crossroads about what to do next.

This was so so so good, a fabulous contemporary romance about two guys with a fuckton of chemistry and a lot of issues on both sides. Between Ilya's familial trauma (which he naturally covers by being incredibly charming and seemingly shallow) and Shane's internalized homophobia, there's a lot of drama to be mined. But the book never feels depressing or focus on self loathing. There's angst aplenty, but it's balanced out by Ilya and Shane's connection--the animosity turning into flirting turning into love. They're funny, their chemistry is natural, and you literally just want them to kiss throughout the book. And there's a lot of kissing. And a lot of sex. And it is extremely hot and I was super happy with it. But ugh, casual sex turning into love with REAL FEELINGS? I'm so weak for it. Ilya, the slutty one, being the first to realize that he's doing dumb shit like counting Shane's freckles? PLEASE. One of my favorite reads of the year. I was swooning throughout this one, and I can't wait to read the sequel.

Dreams of a Dark Warrior by Kresley Cole. Immature and reckless Valkyrie Regin the Radiant has a secret: she's been bound in a thousand-year relationship with Aidan the Fierce, a Berserker who recognized her as his when she was younger. The problem? Right after Regin and Aidan slept together, he was murdered--and refuses to be kept from her. Throughout the years, he's been continuously reincarnated, seeking her out no matter what; and every time, after they sleep together and Aidan comes to the forefront, he's killed again. Just when Regin decides to evade his latest incarnation to spare him, she's taken captive by The Order... and the man in charge of interrogation? Declan Chase, who hates immortals more than anything else. And is, unbeknownst to him--the latest incarnation of Aidan.

This was a CONTROVERSIAL one, and I honestly enjoyed the hell out of it. This is not going to be for everyone. Declan does some truly horrible things (though he's more directly responsible for what he does to the other immortals than Regin) and I will admit that I feel like his crimes were hand waved a bit at the end. But he and Regin have a fantastic connection, and the setting and plot is super compelling. He's a fascinating character, a true dark romance hero, and she grows up a lot over the course of the book--which was very much needed, as she was my least favorite valkyrie beforehand. The reality is that this is an edgy romance, and while it's not my favorite IAD book, I'd recommend it to the right people and appreciate bold swings it takes. Plus--tons of setup for Lothaire, and frankly he is HILARIOUS.

#romance novel blogging #book recs

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brainrattlers · 1 year

Text

Play It Cool - Tyson Jost (37/n)

Pairing: Tyson Jost x OFC (AJ)

Word Count: 2360 (it's a shorty)

Warnings: Night terrors/sleep paralysis for AJ. Mild language.

Chapter 36 is at https://at.tumblr.com/brainrattlers/play-it-cool-tyson-jost-36n/2w2duzwciyr6

Start from the beginning at https://at.tumblr.com/brainrattlers/play-it-cool-tyson-jost-1n/p7no8u1hzuza

Author's Notes: First.. short chapter, building up to something fun soon! My tags are STILL broken, and I got a form email from support saying they're still working on tickets, hopefully mine would be looked at soon. So I'm HOPING y'all are getting to see this. Just a head's up, there probably won't be a chapter next week Tuesday as I will be on a touch of a roadie myself, hitting up Dallas and St. Louis.

As far as the story goes - AJ's feeling better, and Tyson's starting to shine with the Sabres. If you saw the last two games, you saw just how many minutes he played, and while maybe he didn't have the best points, he has been contributing and the coaching staff is rewarding him for that. However on this last trip to Nashville, AJ decides to watch something a little too creepy for her liking...

***

With AJ on the mend, and Tyson not playing until Saturday against Minnesota, when not at practice, the two had some time to look at a few of the apartments on their list. Unfortunately the one that AJ was most excited about was already rented out on AJ’s sick day.

“It wasn’t meant to be, you know? We’ll find something even better I bet!” Tyson was doing his best to cheer her up, even though he was even a little down, he really liked what he saw in the video she had sent while he was on his last road trip.

AJ continued to scour the listings, Tyson focused on the upcoming game.

Through all of this, AJ was ready to hear all the media talking about him going against his former team, but thankfully there was not a whole lot of that to be heard. Journalists seemed to be respecting what he was put through and just never brought it up.

Finding herself at KeyBank Center that Saturday, AJ was able to at least say hello to a few of her old friends from Minnesota after their morning skate. She avoided the coaching staff like the plague, but did get to chat a few minutes with Marcus, Brandon, and Jared before she had to let them go prepare for the game later. Just like meeting up with her friends on the Avs, it was just like old times with the guys from the Wild. Brandon even made it a point to apologize, even though she wasn’t sure why he was - how things played out was not his doing. AJ appreciated it all the same. It further solidified that it really wasn't the teammates that made things the way they were for them in Buffalo, they're good people.

Letting Tyson do his pre-game thing, AJ snagged some lupper (linner? Meal between lunch and supper/dinner) before heading back to the arena to take in the evening’s festivities. The game was a lot of back and forth, and was a very exciting game. Toward the end of the game, Tyson hooked Foligno and went to the box, much to anyone rooting for the Sabres’ chagrin. It was a hard-fought battle between the two teams, but in the end, the Sabres won 6-5 in overtime.

The next few games at home were a struggle for the team, but it was starting to be Tyson’s time to shine. More shots, more hits. More ice time, more faceoffs won, more points! Unfortunately it was three losses in a row for Buffalo. There was some hope though as their play continued to improve, they were just struggling to get the mojo going for a win.

When she could, AJ was still on the hunt for the perfect place for the two to call home. She checked out a few more properties, but nothing was feeling right. Some were better than others, but it just wasn’t feeling like THE ONE. Coming home to the hotel in the afternoons, Tyson would see the look of disappointment as she walked through the door. The last few evenings, the two worked together looking up listings online over dinner that Tyson cooked while she was hitting the pavement, not just looking for that elusive new pad but also drumming up some freelance IT support work.

Truth be told, Tyson enjoyed the last few gameless afternoons of getting to relax by cooking. He enjoyed the time that he wasn’t trying to bring that extra something to the Sabres (although he enjoyed that part too). The best part was that he was still able to spoil AJ seeing as how she was starting to get appointments lined up to fix computer woes. And keeping up her end of the compromise, AJ was (usually) more than happy to do the dishes after dinner.

I say (usually) because there were some nights that it seemed like Tyson had used every pan and every utensil they had in their tiny kitchenette. AJ didn’t care for those nights - but Tyson definitely helped out and they worked as the team they are. There was one night that it was super light on the cooking utensils, and she recognized that the meal should have utilized far more of them in its creation. He had to admit that he knew she had a long day and he washed as he cooked so they could relax that evening, as he was leaving for Nashville in a couple of days.

Friday morning was the last practice before flying to Tennessee, so the couple stayed in bed as long as they could before he had to leave for practice, and the airport following. Kisses, snuggles, maybe some naked time, it was all part of their blossoming ritual on days like this one. Tyson would grab something to eat on the way to practice just to get fifteen more minutes with AJ before he had to leave. The view of AJ in bed still, smirking as she wished him luck, would leave the words ringing in his ears as he drove to practice.

“Kick some ass, Jost. Text me when you land.”

And if she didn’t have any work lined up that morning, she’d curl back up in the sheets and pillows that still smelled like Tyson and doze until she absolutely had to get up and start her day. This particular Friday, AJ had one townhouse to look at, and then was going to go grab some groceries to make a “Tyson would never eat this” kind of meal.

The townhouse was okay, nothing spectacular. Sending photos to Tyson, she didn’t get a response. Looking at the clock on her phone, she realized he was probably just finishing up at practice. Hitting up the grocery store, some onions, garlic, butter and spaghetti found their way into her basket. Some fried noodles with onion and garlic was something she’d been craving since getting over her cold she had the week prior, and it was definitely something Tyson shouldn’t be eating. (Her either, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Or stomach, in this case.)

Tyson: Hey, hitting the airport. I think with some work that place could be okay. Look at it after I get back?

AJ: I’m not 100% feeling it but maybe if we look at it together I’ll feel differently. How long is the flight?

Tyson: Just a couple hours. Getting on the plane, naptime soon because someone insisted we get up early this morning… (evil imp emoji)

AJ: Whomever could that be? Dream of me, k?

Tyson: Sure hope so babe. Text you when I’m on the ground in Nashville.

A few hours later, true to his word, AJ got that text he was on the ground, and would call before bed.

At the same time, letting some butter melt in the frying pan, AJ chopped up a little onion and garlic, and was letting her pasta drain in the sink. Once the onion was soft in the pan, in went the noodles to get a little browned, and last was the garlic as to not burn. Sitting down on the chaise, she grabbed the remote and clicked through a few show options, and decided for some reason to start watching American Horror Story again.

AJ had started the series when it first came out, but then it got to a point where it was simply too spooky for her, especially living alone. She’d missed the last few seasons, and was suddenly curious. Stupidly she had the lights off, and started digging into her meal, and the first episode of season 10. As the main characters walked near a cemetery, the creepy villains lurched and lunged toward the mains in a very awkward manner.

The hotel room was on the 3rd floor, but it didn’t keep AJ from jumping up and shutting the shades and turning on the lights. But for some reason, she couldn’t stop watching despite the jump scares and general eeriness.

Three episodes in, the phone in her hand started buzzing, which caused AJ to shriek and throw it at the sofa, not realizing what it was. Breathing hard, she picked it up and took the facetime call from Tyson, staring wide-eyed at the screen.

“Hey babe, whoa, are you okay? It’s really bright in the room, what’s going on?” Tyson was immediately concerned.

“I… I did a big dumb thing. I started watching American Horror Story and it was dark and I saw a shadow at the window and now I’m freaked out.”

It drove AJ absolutely batty seeing Tyson giggle because she knew she screwed up and he was going to tease her about it. Yes, she was overreacting and kind of being a baby about it. He tried to not tease too hard though.

“Aww hon, no, turn it off, turn it off. Did we not learn anything from Halloween two years ago? Are you going to be able to get some sleep tonight?”

After talking a few minutes, AJ was a little more calm, but wasn’t happy about sleeping alone that night. She wanted the feeling of knowing Tyson would be there to protect her in the night from whatever might be there… but he was in Nashville.

“It’s just one night, you got this. I’ll be back tomorrow night after the game…” He could see how tired she already looked, “You’re tough, I know you’re good. I’ll be home to protect you tomorrow night, promise.” He was still giggling a little bit, which really did calm AJ down more.

The two wished each other good night, and AJ kept the lights on. And a stream of comedies on the TV, she wasn’t about to fall asleep if she could help it.

Saturday was long as can be - AJ’s eyes wouldn’t stay open as the sun came up. She finally drifted off to sleep for a few hours, losing the morning and a small chunk of the afternoon. A few missed texts pinged her phone but she slept right through.

Tyson’s assumptions were just that, so he wasn’t too worried that he didn’t hear back from her until the middle of the afternoon. The two texted a bit before the game, with AJ promising she’d watch. Tyson teased a bit, asking if she was going to have to watch the game with the lights on.

AJ: Shut it, Jost. Kick some ass tonight. Love you babe.

And it was a hell of a game. Obviously the win was good after losing three in a row, but the stats stood out.

No goals, no assists, and -1 for plus/minus. 2 minute penalty assessed.

Here’s where it got interesting:

3 shots on goal.

1 blocked shot.

4 hits.

Faceoffs - 7 win, 7 loss for a 50%

PK time: 1:58

Shifts: 24

TOTAL ICE TIME: 21:00

AJ couldn’t believe it. Three months ago, Tyson was barely getting a third of that in a game, and against Nashville he led all forwards in ice time. She was squealing via text with Jess as she had no one there to really celebrate with.

As the adrenaline from the game wore off, the lack of sleep was hitting hard, but AJ did her best to stay awake waiting for the text saying Tyson would be taking off soon, and would be home shortly. Once that text happened, AJ crawled into bed, keeping the light on in the kitchen and bathroom, as well as the bedside lamp lit. Somehow despite all the light, her eyes closed and she was out.

Tyson’s plane landed around 1AM, and he made his way back to the hotel, tired from the quick trip. He gently opened the door and clicked it shut quietly behind him. He set his bag on the sofa, and headed toward the bedroom. The light from the bathroom went out as the door shut, waking AJ immediately.

Frozen in terror, she kept her eye on the bathroom door, realizing someone was in there, not clicking that it was her man. Most definitely, AJ was not fully awake. As the door opened, her night terror continued, and she fought with all her might to snap out of it to figure out what really was going on. Tyson had seen her do this a few times, and never really knew if he should try to wake her or not because he also found out she sometimes flails and fights back when coming out of sleep paralysis. (Never on purpose, but in her mind she was clearly fighting something.)

Gently touching her arm, he hoped to rouse her gently.

“AJ, it’s me, it’s Tyson,” Tyson flinched as she recoiled back from his touch, “Eggo, it’s Maple Syrup Man…”

Broken from her night terror, AJ’s eyes opened, and tears started falling as she was overly emotional and couldn’t stop it after fighting something scary, even if it were imaginary in her head. Tyson immediately jumped into bed, holding her tight, letting the tears fall.

“Shhh babe it’s okay, I’m here… I’m here. You’re good, you’re safe. I’m not letting anything get to you.” He softly stroked her back, “And no more American Horror Story for you, especially if I’m gone.”

The sniffles gave way to a chuckle, and AJ latched onto Tyson, holding him just as tightly. He did get her to let go briefly so he could shut the lights off, promising to come back and protect her from all the scary things in the dark. Wrapping them up in blankets, he cocooned the both of them together. It was the best sleep AJ had in a while.

Sun streaming in the room after Tyson opened the curtains, AJ rubbed her eyes and looked at her phone to see she had a text and an email from one of the property managers she had previously talked to - specifically, the one property that AJ and Tyson were most excited for.

I have a new unit available that is a twin of the one you looked at. If you’re interested, I’m holding it for you first. Let me know!

Chapter 38 is live at https://at.tumblr.com/brainrattlers/play-it-cool-tyson-jost-38n/ff3wn6ypfy6e

#Tyson Jost #Josty #Play It Cool #Tyson Jost x OFC #Buffalo Sabres #Colorado Avalanche

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