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insomniac-dot-ink · 2 years

Text

Original_The Silence of the Next Universe

When we finally build a window into the next universe over, no one will speak to us there. Dr. Margaret Camry had a hard time convincing anyone it was even that. Skeptics said she was pointing it in the wrong direction—gazing out into the next solar system or snagging on an old tv show transmission. She had to record it for weeks, tearing her hair out and pointing at the screen and everything that looked like our universe, but wasn’t. The dust settled more slowly there. The light refracted more brightly. The people walked with a sloping gate of one extra vertebra.

They look like us. We think they’re human, human in their own sense. And they won’t talk to us. We motion and hand signal and tap on the walls and flash morse code at them, holding up letters to the screen and slowly mouthing the alphabet. Newer interns might point at themselves and yell their own names, louder and louder like that might break the distance between dimensions with willpower alone. Some older scientists attempt conversation using color theory and wolf howls—just in case, you know? Just in case they howl like wolves, I suppose.

Desperation breeds fools of everyone and Dr. Camry’s team dearly wants that Nebula Prize. I do too, technically.

We know they see us— the people who are not quiet people—their brows pinch together, and their lips purse and they walk a little faster. The screen is in some kind of hallway. There are gray walls of wide smooth panels and corner-less ceilings, a modernistic sensibility for the palette of someone partial to drinking unsweetened cereal milk.

At the very least we’ve determined it's some kind of communal corridor. Families with fathers and mothers holding strangely gangling toddles pass by along with people in red blazers going to work or grandmas in fleecy sweaters getting home from the store. We’ve never seen their shoes which somehow bothers me.

They wear clothes with sharp angles and stiff-looking material, usually buttoned all the way to the throat. No one seems to wear hats, but almost all of them wear dangling earrings off of earlobes that are a little too long and a little too narrow.

There is something familiar about their angular outfits and chin-length hairdos, something I could imagine coming into style in our universe in maybe 10 or 20 years. And they won’t talk to us. They don’t even want to look at us.

Most nights, I dream of windows.

When I leave our watch room which feels tinier and tinier by the day, and I lie down for the mandatory 8-hour rest, I dream of windows in halls. Windows that open up into purpling skies or birds that float instead of fly, and a beautiful not-person who whispers dully, lovingly in my ear. Welcome, hello, we’ve been waiting for you.

I wake in a cold sweet and guilt burns behind my eyes. The words linger at the cusp of my ear, an ear smaller and wider than theirs. I won’t admit I know which one it is whispering to me. A blonde, dyed blonde, poorly. The fact that our neighboring dimension has poor dye jobs is a joke onto itself. I imagine we could also joke about it sometime. I imagine I could give her tips on how to even out the color and tell her about how I’ve been dying my own hair since grade school—how I was almost a chemist until all of my bangs fell out my freshmen year of college.

I imagine she would laugh at that.

“You can’t have a crush on someone on one of the Doomers.”

Doomers is our name for them, or Dimension D citizens. We call it that because we thought the “D” sounds cool and it doesn’t actually stand for anything except whatever dirty phrase the newest interns can think of.

I scrub my burning eyes and make a point not to look at my watch-mate, Lars. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m only saying,” I give him a hard look. “Some of them seem more receptive to communication than the others, you know? I mean, the one’s we see almost every day could probably choose a different hallway—”

“If they weren’t in love with you?” He teases.

“If they weren’t interested in reaching out!” I grumble. “At some point. . .”

“Uh-huh.” I practically feel Lars giving me a smarmy smile. A smile that comes with it’s own side of swarm. “And which one of them exactly do you want to reach out?”

I sink lower in my seat. Our interdimensional hallway was empty right then because I guess sometimes hallways have to be empty.

“What time, Brenna? What time do you see Lady B each day?” Lady B is one of our nicknames. We have nicknames for all of the regulars.

I exhale harshly. “You see her too. It’s not weird to note her movements, it’s literally our job.”

Lars clears his throat and taps through our logs. “Notes by Dr. Brenna Wilkens, day 324, time 7:34 local, subject B03 was wearing feathered gold earrings today the length of one’s pinky. She wore a matte lipstick and grey cotton-like jacket. Subject’s demeanor was placid, if not thoughtful, she stared at the ceiling whereas she normally stares at the floor. Perhaps, she’s looking forward to this day? Perhaps she wants to hold my very tender scientist body—"

“You make my job so much harder than it needs to be.” I gnash my teeth.

Lars turns back to me. “How’re you gonna make sweet interdimensional love if all she does is glare at us, Bren-Bren?” He pushes back in his fancy swivel chair he brought from home. He said he needed a nice one since all we do is sit all day. “You should put your seductive ways to good use. Do you think they enjoy nudie mags in Doomsville?”

I give an appropriate eye role and comment dryly, “actually, Lars, you are the only person in this universe who likes nudie mags. No one else, a real innovator, surely, you’ll receive tenure at the nearest Marster’s Star Port.”

“Hold that thought. There’s our main man, Ken Doll.” Lars starts jotting down our daily notes as people appear. We take down what they are wearing, their demeanor, how fast they are walking. It’s the least we can do at this point. “And your crush!”

I hold my breath. Lady B enters from the left and strides across the screen. She is usually glaring, thin dark eyebrows dented inward, and arms held tightly at her sides. She glares at the ground, the ceiling, and the place right beside our screen, or rather their screen, in the hallway.

She wears bright earbuds nestled behind her choppy bad-dye-job curls. I often imagine asking her what she’s listening to. If it’s music. If it’s news. If she likes it.

I know she doesn’t like us. I give a slight wave, standing up in my chair and trying to catch her eye just in case. I might be imagining it, but I swear the woman on the other side flinches ever so slightly in response. And then she’s gone again.

I practically melt. “Did you see that?” I can still see the slightest twitch of her shoulders.

Lars grows uncharacteristically silent for a long moment. “I forget that sometimes,” he says in a bemused way. “That they can see us.”

The shift passes with its usual suspects and notes and the busy boring hallway in an entirely different dimension than ours. Most of the subjects look grumpy or weary that day, our most long-standing theory is that Mondays exist there too.

The thing we don’t understand though, the thing that none of us understand, is why they built their own screen first. For us to peer into their little gray hallway in some random corridor in some random sector means they must have built an interdimensional lens for us to connect to. But why? Why build a window to another universe and then not talk to us? Ignore us? Why have it at all?

The question gnaws at all of us, consumes some of the older scientists until they spiral out into becoming philosophy professors or drunks. Two careers we’ve all been tempted by.

Mostly though, I find other things to consume me.

Love, false love or love that only exists in windows, does funny things to you. The first truly funny this is when I start bringing in music to our nightly watches. Nothing else has worked and Dr. Camry has spent less and less time reading our theoretical papers and more and more time locked away in her lab. So, I bring a music box to my session with Lars, and he doesn’t bother me about protocol.

We plug in music and play it toward the screen. We’ve determined they can hear us even if they must keep the volume on low or whatever else they do to ignore us when we’re playing elephant trumpeting or whale noises directly into their universe. I play the classics at first, orchestra performances and opera singers—some of which we’ve tried before.

The people on the other side diligently ignore us. We note a slight hesitation when we play violin music and a slight increase in walking speed when we play opera. Piano solos make their glares even more prominent.

“Maybe they don’t have pianos in that universe?” Lars muses. “Maybe pianos are devil music there, too sexy for the locals . . .”

“Or maybe they wish our boring hallway music was at least on par with their elevator music.”

“Have you tried Elvis yet?”

I snort. “We’re trying Swan Lake first and then move on to slightly less sexual work . . .”

Lady B notices after the first few visits. I see it in the way she wobbles in place and her angry, dark eyes glance over the screen, over our faces. I beam. She keeps moving.

Lars makes kissy faces and I ignore him when I start playing ballads by long dead composers and some modern pop. Neither of us say anything if the ballads are love songs and no one can say anything more if I sing along sometimes and lean a little closer to the screen.

Does love transcend universes? Probably not. It would complicate the concept of soulmates too much, too many logistical issues there.

Even more so, the people in the next universe over don't talk to us—even after we reached them. Even after they built their own screen first. Or at least, that’s what we assumed.

I was there on our last shift. In some ways, everything that came after started from that question of love and universes.

I was humming along to a Dark District techno song called Love that Only Grows—modern music which would make old Dr. Louis potentially hunt me for sport. The music had a way of bringing out something looser in me, it had been too many days of cramped space in a small lab with the same people. Lars tapped along and a watched the left-most side of the hall.

Lady B appeared as she always did, and I stood up in my chair to wave. I sang a little louder for her ears and her ears alone.

“Talk to me, talk to me, baby! I love the way you move so good and yet so bad.” It was silly, barely a song and more of a club remix some kid in the outer planets put together in his basement. “Everything you do is bad for me, bad for me, but oh so good.”

Lady B’s eyebrows skyrocket. She wobbles in place and straightens up with her spine with an extra vertebra. Maybe they have the exact same song in their universe. Or maybe I finally sang loud enough to stop her.

My heart squeezes and stampedes through my chest in one glorious moment. Her eyes meet mine. They are brown as oak trees (do they have oak trees?) and lashes long enough to make wishes on (I hope they have wishes in that universe). Her pupils expand slightly and her eyes are just like ours.

I’m smiling like a dope on all the tapes we rewatch. She doesn’t smile back in any of them either. She nods, one small jerk of her head, eyes fixed on something behind us. Lady B nods at it and then she’s gone. She must have bolted, but it almost seems like she was there one moment and gone the next.

Lars turns first and I hear him inhale sharply.

I am still high on everything about the way her eyes caught on me when I turn as well. My smile slowly falls. There is a reflection in the glass of the far door. A reflection of our screen to another universe, but it is not their hallway reflected there. It is not our universe or theirs at all.

An eye peers back at us. A large singular eye unblinking and yellow as moons and dogs and smoggy air. It’s not an eye like ours. We realize too late that perhaps all those people we’ve tried to say something to have been trying to tell us something back. They didn’t build that screen.

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Heya, I write spooky stories but also Sapphic romance. Get a copy of my Sapphic urban fantasy collection here. If you enjoyed the story, leave a tip either here on Tumblr or Ko-Fi, thank you!

#short story #writing #sci-fi #science fiction #wlw #horror but make it romance and tragic #long post

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

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Hey, I adore your work; you are so very talented!! ♡ Would you mind writing a continuation of 'Reverse Your Regret,' in which Sapnap gets possessive over the reader? Perhaps, after their ex arrogantly reaches out to them, asking for forgiveness, the reader thoughtlessly brings it up to the incubus .. I hope that makes sense .. Anyways, wherever you decide to take this AU (if anywhere), it will be magnificent. Just wanted to share a passing thought. :)

I love this. I absolutely love this. Also this request.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: incubus!Sapnap x afab!reader

warnings: smut (18+), biting, possessiveness, Dream being an asshole, language, mentions of God and angels

previous part

You furrowed your brows slightly as a knock came to your door. Checking your watch briefly, you swiveled around the corner from your campaign of rifling through the fridge. You were hesitant to peek at who it was, mainly because of the time of night. You stood on your toes, peering through the peephole until your eyes focused on a familiar head of blond hair.

You slumped back against the door, feeling out of breath, and paralyzed with shock. What was he doing out there? You scorned, trying to remember if you had recently texted him when you were drunk, or if he had come on his own accord.

You twisted the knob slowly before inhaling and opening your door to face him. Clay’s eyes met yours, his weight leaning on his hand propped against the threshold lazily. His towering frame blocked most of the hallway light from spilling into your apartment. “Hey,” he greeted easily, voice raspy and low. It had once been your absolute weakness; how simply he could make you unravel by just whispering in your ear or making a snide comment.

You moved an inch to let him into your apartment as if you were on autopilot from his previous actions. After you shut the door behind the two of you, you shoved your hands in your pockets, your fingers brushing against the cardstock that had brought Sapnap to you. His voice seemed to flash into your head when you touched it as if he were consoling you.

Clay leaned against the back of your couch, crossing his arms as he surveyed your body as if he were looking for something in particular. He wet his lips, furrowing his brows. “I really miss you,” he mumbled, looking at you with a softer expression. “I really have no idea what was going through my head when I broke things off,” he apologized.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “I’m not…” you answered, the hesitance in your voice demonstrating your disbelief. “I mean, we really… weren’t healthy…” His eyes drifted to your floor in front of him before darting back up to your gaze.

He stiffened slightly as if noticing something about you. “You look different,” he muttered absent-mindedly. You pinched yourself, wondering how you could have ever vied for his gaze and attention. You used to yearn for him to scrutinize and nit-pick, but now you knew what it was like to have a man that earned your respect, even if he did own you. Clay only took it.

You shrugged slightly, unsure of how to answer him as the pads of your fingers traced the raised print on the card. “I haven’t done anything differently,” you answered, averting your stare to bounce around at his clothing.

He tsked lowly. “No, something is definitely off about you.” He stood, walking to plant himself in front of you. He slowly reached a hand toward you, brushing your hair off your shoulder before gently dipping his fingers between your collar and moving your shirt to expose one of your shoulders. You hated yourself for wanting to lean into his touch and bury your face in his chest.

His fingers brushed against a sore spot on your skin, and you knew instantly what he was looking at: a bite from Sapnap.

Something dark flickered across his expression and he seemed almost fearful as he took a step back from you. He smirked slightly. “I see how it is,” he nipped mockingly, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I knew your eyes seemed a bit dead, I just didn’t think you would have gone that far.”

You quipped an eyebrow in his direction, your hand moving to rest over the mark. There was no way he could have been able to tell what it meant. Your heart thumped in your chest as you wondered what Clay would have thought of you.

Before you could ask, he spoke again. “I just came by to check up on you. I heard you’d been acting strange.” He chuckled shortly. “I get why now.” You weren’t sure why he was so bitter, in fact, even when the two of you were at your worst, he never spoke to you with such malice. He began to back out of your apartment. “Just be careful. You don’t seem like the type stupid enough to get into that stuff, but from the looks of it, I might be wrong.”

You furrowed your brows, watching him leave as you stood there in shock, unable to piece together what had just happened. You weren’t sure how long you have been standing in the middle of your apartment with your mind running blank.

“What is that smell?” Sapnap’s voice boomed from one corner of your room, making you jump to look at him, your heart seemingly restarting. His face twisted in some kind of angry disgust.

You exhaled. “Jesus! You have to stop doing that!” You bit back as he seemed to further investigate whatever was bothering him, even going as far as opening a window. When you realized how much I affected him you self-consciously sniffed yourself. You smelled fine. “What are you smelling?” You queried, watching as he scoured your living room.

He stopped, looking at you with gleaming eyes. Something seemed to click in his mind and before you knew it, he was standing before you, hand resting on the side of your neck as he took a whiff of you, nose brushing against your neck. You inched away from him out of confusion and discomfort. “You’ve had an angel in here haven’t you?”

You were taken aback, to say the least. “I- what?”

“Who just left?” He asked, covering his mouth and nose as if you were repulsive to him.

You swallowed, crossing your arms over your chest, and folding in on yourself. “I don’t know… It was just my ex-boyfri-“

He cut you off. “Are you fucking serious?” You nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this, and if these pieces of your story were de-cluttering his puzzle. “That’s why you were so uncomfortable, and why you smell overwhelmingly like rotting flowers?”

You tilted your head. “Rotting flowers?”

Sapnap rubbed his chin slightly. “He could probably tell. Mortals lose a certain light in their eyes after giving themselves to a demon,” he muttered, watching your expression shift. “Those fucking God cops are always in our territory.”

You wet your lips. “Speak plainly, Sapnap,” you insisted, breath becoming shallow.

He smugly grinned at you. “You were prime angel real estate before I came along, baby,” he answered snidely, making heat spread across your body. He got closer to you, pressing his fingertips against the portions of your skin that Clay had grazed over just moments prior as if he were spreading his own scent to cleanse Clay off your skin. “Now, not even God can help you,” he gleamed, teeth tugging at his lip before leaning towards you and pressing his mouth to yours. He broke the kiss only to hover near your ear, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him. “Your soul’s mine.”

His body was intoxicating, and while you knew it was dangerous to be with him, you felt safer with Sapnap even if he was blatantly telling you just how damned you were. The news was easier to swallow with his tongue slipping into your mouth and his voice whispering sweetly possessive venom into your ear.

You ground your hips against him as he pressed his lips against your neck, teeth trailing after his contact, fingers digging into your skin or the leather couch beneath you. Your hair tangled with his movements, clawing at his back as his teeth clicked against your chest. His tongue darted over his previous bite that you figured would end up scaring; a permanent homage to him on your body.

He had known the adrenaline rushing through your veins at Clay’s arrival. He’d known the discomfort and the borderline fear you had to edge yourself off of earlier, therefore as he kneaded the flesh of your thighs in his hand, he was sure to validate that Clay could threaten you all he wanted, but while Sapnap was around, he couldn’t hurt you. He had explained in the past that you were his personal plaything, and thus you had gained his protection and respect in an almost sadistic way.

You moaned as his fingers slid beneath your shirt, tugging it over your head while you pulled his own off, letting his lips attack your neck again. You brazenly ground your hips up against his, wrapping a leg around his thigh in a desperate search for more friction.

You knew the heated mix of Sapnap’s possessive urges and your determination to please him would have your knees shaking in no time as he dragged your pants down your legs, fingers clawing at the now bare skin of your thighs as you, carded your fingers through his hair, tugging at his roots and swallowing his moans.

The two of you rushed into your pleasures, letting him push into you and send your mind spending. You were forgetting Clay’s name with each punctuated thrust of his hips as he bottomed out in you. You clenched around him, making him groan into your shoulder, teeth threatening to mark you again.

He pulled out of you, only to flip you onto your stomach, jutting your hips up and against his as he drove himself into you again, pressing your shoulders into the couch. You bit down on your bottom lip preventing yourself from moaning out his name as his fingers dug into your shoulders, teaching you just how much he liked to use your body. With how good he was making you feel, you didn’t give a damn.

He panted out your name, his voice low and gruff as he nearly commanded and controlled your orgasm. You whimpered at his antics and he chuckled darkly. “I should be ripping you apart after you let that thing into your apartment,” he threatened seductively. You moaned out and apology as his lips and tongue met your shoulder blade, fingers tracing the length of your spine. You could feel the pads of his fingers circling each of your vertebrates as he drove himself deeper into you, reaching just where you needed him.

You came undone quicker than you had expected, moaning as he picked up his pace to bring himself to finishing, your vision blurring from the stimulation as he used you. His hand gripped onto your hips as his paces stuttered against you, a groan hissing through his teeth. His hand laced with yours momentarily before the two of you straightened yourselves up.

You pulled your knees to your chest, watching him rebutton his shirt. You slipped your arms further into your hoodie and he looked at you with a small perk of his eyebrow. “What are you thinking about?” He asked.

You chewed the corner of your mouth. “What do demons smell like to angels then?”

“Charcoal,” he answered plainly. “Sometimes just burning.” He sat beside you, pulling you to his side. You snuggled into his warmth, resting your head on his chest.

You inhaled sharply. “So… Clay’s an angel…”

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew his eyes began to glow at the mention of the other species, especially the man you’d been associated with. “Yeah, they call him Dream.” He hesitated slightly. “He’s one of the worst.”

You felt like you were walking on eggshells to ask him more. “Did you know him?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Before I got kicked out,” he joked, covering the obvious hurt in his voice.

“Kicked out of where?” You probed, already somewhat figuring you knew the answer.

He was quiet. “Heaven.”

Sapnap Tag List:

@bobbyftmydad

#mcyt x you #mcyt smut #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfiction #sapnap x you #sapnap smut #sapnap fanfic #sapnap x y/n #sapnap x reader #incubus!sapnap #demon au

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hpdabbles · 2 years

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Imagine a world were Regulus was also the family disappointment as in he wasn't a Slytherin.

"Is that your brother?" James asks craning his neck to see the dark-haired little boy who was currently staring at Xenophilius Lovegood with a bemused expression. He had spotted the other teenager, breaking away from the group eleven-year-old, to watch the blond teenager better.

James couldn't really blame him, as Lovegood made it a point to always welcome first-year Hogwarts students with a strange dance. He claimed that spinning in a circle while flapping his hands would drive away from some kind of creature that brought bad luck and was dangerous to anyone starting a new chapter in life.

Lovegood is strange in a way that James almost pitied. He oftentimes suspected the second year was on the slow side and made a great effort to not include him in any pranks. Unlike Snivllius, there would be no fun in targeting him as Lovegood could not give as good as he got.

"Yeah, that's him. The little menace is ever so excited to make our Mother proud to be in the great Slytherin house" Sirius hisses in a voice dripping with venom. Lately, James had taken notice that his best friend grew more and more hateful when speaking of his brother. He didn't know if Regulus Black was as bad as Sirius made him out to be or if he was just jealous that their parents preferred the younger.

It wasn't James' place to call him out on it. It was his job as a best friend to support Sirius so he nodded his chin to where Regulus was observing Lovegood like one looked upon an animal in a zoo. "He looks like a snake."

"Doesn't he? Perfect little pureblood following just what a good Black should b- what is he doing?" The horror in Sirius's words had James snapping his neck back to the first year only to be confronted by Regulus copying Lovegood's dance.

The second-year Ravenclaw in question paused in his movement long enough to beam at Regulus. He rounds the table to stand next to the eleven-year-old, smiling down at the unsorted boy before resuming his dance, stopping now to tap his foot and sway his hips ever so often.'

Regulus copied him easily, the two in perfect sync with each other. By this point the whole hall had caught sight of the two, watching them with weirded-out expressions as the two boys happily twirl in next to the group of first years.

They ended the dance with their arms above their heads, slowly spreading them apart to fall at their sides. Regulus tugged on Lovegood's robes, which the taller male- he may only be a second-year but Lovegood tower all his year mates.- bent his head down allowing the Black to whisper in his year.

Whatever he said had Lovegood beaming, and the two fell into a rapid-fire mutter, throwing their hands around as they spoke. It was a bit humorous to see, as one was taller than most his age and the other was shorter than most his age.

"Mr. Lovegood! Take a seat this instant. We must start the sorting." Professor McGonagall said, marching towards the two with pursed lips. "Mr.Black will have time to chit chat once he been sorted-"

"I'll like to be a Ravenclaw ma'am" Regulus cut in, unbothered by the wide eye looks of shock from the house of the snakes.

"You can not choose your house, Mr. Black. It is chosen for you."

"A choice is made to place me, why would it matter who made the choice? May I speak to the hat, so it can see it my way?"

"What- you can't negotiate with the hat, Mr. Black."

"Has anyone ever tried to before?"

"No."

"Then how can you be certain I can not negotiate with it?"

Lovegood adds "We can set up experiments to test the hats limitations! I would also like to speak to the Sorting Hat. Maybe the hat will allow someone to be re-sort."

"Or maybe we can create a new house," Regulus says.

"Maybe it can find more creatures for us," Lovegood says in an overly airy voice almost sighing the words. Regulus's eyes go wide.

"It has been inside the head of every witch or wizard for the past thousand years! Image all the creatures that went extinct it saw in those minds!"

"We must publish our results imagine-"

Professor McGonagall's flat voice cut off Lovegood. "I belive you may be a Ravencalw after all Mr. Black. But please join the rest of your year mates regarless. We must start the sorting."

James turned to Sirius wanting to see how embarrassed his friend was now that his baby brother turned out to be so strange but he only found Sirius' wide smile and shining years.

"I'm not the only family disappointed now!" Sirius gushes looking at his brother like he was finally seeing him as family.

Taking a page out of Remus' book- the werewolf had been reading the whole time, ignoring the world at large while Peter ate leftover candies from the train ride- James pretend he didn't hear Sirius talk. It was better for his sanity.

#Harry Potter #Hpdabbles #Raveclaw Regulus #Xenophilius and Regulus are besties #Regulus thinks Xenohilius is cool #Also the dance really is meant to keep bad luck away but it's a very very old Pureblood dance and Regulus recognized it from his family boo #Sirius is prode

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gc-genshin · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: Acatalepsy

Acatalepsy (noun): The idea that it is impossible to truly comprehend anything.

Pairing: Various x female reader

Summary: You and Xiao have a nice chat.

Warnings: Explicit language

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Since so many people wanted this series to continue, here’s officially Chapter One! Happy reading!

Prologue Chapter Two

You're still having a hard time believing what you're seeing.

In front of you sat Xiao, one of your favorite characters from Genshin Impact, glaring daggers at your seated form. A small table, no bigger than three feet wide, separated you from him.

And there you sat across from him, shaking in your metaphorical boots under his intense gaze.

Let's recap, shall we?

—

“Hi, my name’s [Name] [Last Name] and I'm from a world where you're a fictional character in a video game. It's nice to finally meet you, Guardian Yaksha Xiao.”

As soon as his name slipped from your lips, your neck was met with the end of his polearm. Though you somewhat expected this kind of reaction, you swore your soul had never left your body so fast.

“How do you know my name?” Xiao really did growl at you this time. His amber eyes pierced into your now soulless body, looking downright murderous.

“How do you know that about me? That I was apart of the Yaksha?” If you didn't know any better, you'd say Xiao was getting frantic. You did know better. But you were also a dumbass.

“Would you believe that I'm twenty-two now?” You managed to choke out. The polearm nearly breaking the skin on your neck was your only answer. “OKAY, OKAY, I’M SORRY! Please give me a chance to explain myself! I’ll tell you everything, just please don't turn my head into a shish-kabob!” You pleaded while closing your eyes. Wow, this is the second time today that I've danced with death, you thought humorously.

Xiao stared. And stared. Then stared some more. You were starting to sweat from his unresponsiveness. Peeking an eye open, you saw Xiao contemplate whether or not to believe you. You watched his beautiful amber irises flicker across your face, looking for any sign of deceit.

When he found none, he pulled his polearm away. Not completely, he was still on high alert, but enough so that you could breathe. You nearly wept real Jesus tears when he did. But that almost changed when he roughly grabbed your upper arm and transported you to his room at the Wangshu Inn.

The moment you both rematerialized he let go of your arm. Having been caught off guard from teleporting, you fell to the floor dizzy while trying to keep the vomit that crept up your esophagus down.

Xiao stared blankly at you, “What? Have never experienced teleporting before?”

Looking up at him from the floor, you take a deep breath before responding to him. “No, teleportation is nothing but a pipe dream from my world.” You then slowly sat up and gave him a tired, lopsided smile, “I’d be long dead before it's ever invented.”

Xiao once again just stares at you. You were such an odd human. He had never experienced someone with your type of personality.

Focusing on the task at hand, Xiao walked over towards a small table and proceeded to sit down on one side of it. He then pointed to the side in front of him and uttered a simple word.

“Explain.”

—

And so you did.

You explained everything to him. Like how you were currently a medical student, studying to be an ER doctor. You explained to him how he was a part of a video game you played in your downtime when you weren't studying. How you knew his background. That you knew what was going to happen in the future.

You explained it all.

“So… in your world you're actually twenty-two?” Xiao asked slowly, trying to fully comprehend what you had told him.

“Yup.”

“And your occupation was a healer?”

“Well I was still studying to become one, but essentially yes.”

“And I am considered a fictional character from a video game that you played.”

“Yup.”

“And you know everything that's going to happen in the future?” He pressed.

“Well not everything, only up to a certain point. Which leads me to ask this…” You prop your elbows on the table, interlacing your fingers then resting your chin on them. “Have you seen boy around my ‘age’,” you put air quotations around age, “ with long, braided blonde hair and dressed in all black?” You asked. “He would also have a floating companion that talks a little too much.”

Xiao shook his head. “No, I have not come across anyone that fits your description.”

Looking off to the side, you thought to yourself. Good. So he hasn’t been to Liyue yet.

Xiao raised an eyebrow at you. “How is that good?”

Startled, you whip your head to Xiao. Shit, I guess I said that out loud.

You give a hefty sigh. “Because it gives me a good idea of where I am in the storyline.” You say, looking back to him. “If he hasn’t shown up in Liyue yet that could mean I'm near the beginning of the game. Hell, he might not have even come yet.” You raise a finger to your chin. Then what would be the point of me being here? Would that make me the next traveler then? You looked towards Xiao. Well whatever the reason is, I'm here now. And it's important I found out why. I'll figure out the Aether situation when I get there.

Xiao looked at you confused. “Who are you talking about?”

You snapped out of your thoughts. Hesitating to answer Xiao, you wondered if it was a good idea to tell him about our main protagonist and antagonist just yet.

You give him a apprehensive smile. “I don't know if I should tell you just yet. I don't unknowingly want to start a butterfly effect. I'm sorry.”

Xiao then sighed and put his head in his hands, seemingly at a loss as to what's going on.

I think this is the most emotion I've ever seen from him.

You had half the mind to reach over the table and pet his head to try and calm him down. But then again, you quite liked having your arm, so you decided against it.

You gently spoke to him, “Trust me, I don't know what the hell’s going on either hun. If I knew more then I would tell you in a heartbeat.” You freeze, catching your little mishap. Xiao slowly lifted his head from his hands, looking at you quizzically. No anger, no vexation. Just pure confusion.

“Hun?” You feel your face start to heat up in embarrassment, hearing him say it. It was a bad habit that you had, calling your friends pet names; mainly just friends that you trusted. And you trusted Xiao.

“I'm sorry! It's a really bad habit of mine. I usually call all of my friends a term of endearment. Hun is short for honey, but I swear to God I didn't mean to call you that, it just slipped out!” You quickly explained to him, shaking your hands in front of you.

Xiao stared at you. You noticed he did that a lot. He's probably just trying to understand your weird mannerisms. “It's fine… I guess.” He said, finally looking away from you.

One… Two… Three… Four…

Ah, the silence is awkward now, say something [Name]!

As soon as you were about to open your mouth, Xiao beat you to it. “So what's your plan now?” He asked, now looking back at you.

You blinked at him for a few seconds, processing what he said. You then looked up to the ceiling, deep in thought. What is my plan now? What am I going to do? I obviously can't stay with Xiao, with him being an adeptus, and leech off of him. Maybe I could go to the Adventures’ Guild? Earn some commissions, maybe be homeless for a bit? But I don't even know how to use a sword. No, that wouldn't work–

Cutting your thoughts off, you responded to him with the only answer you could think of.

“I don't know, haven't thought that far ahead.”

Xiao should be used to this already. He really should. But he couldn't help but send the odd girl an unconvinced look.

“You haven't thought of a plan?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey! Need I remind you that you were there from the very beginning? I haven't really had the time nor the mental capacity to think of a plan for the future!” You huffed at him indignantly. This guy. You shake your head, clearing any annoyance you had with him. Getting irritated isn't going to help your situation [Name], relax. Taking a deep breath, you looked at Xiao. He seemed to be in deep thought, so you decided to not bother him.

Crossing your arms on the table, you finally felt exhaustion catching up to you since the adrenaline of everything was wearing off. You laid your head in your arms and sighed, trying your best to ward off sleep.

Xiao looked over at you. Seeing the state you're in, he decided you weren't fit to travel anymore. He then stood up, having made up his mind.

Noticing the abrupt movement from across the table, you see Xiao stand up and walk towards the door.

“Wh… where're you going?” You mumbled to him, too tired to raise your voice. Xiao looked back at you with his hand on the doorknob. “You're not fit to travel any more today. I'm going to talk to the receptionist about getting you a room here at the Inn.” He then opened the door and left.

You stared at the spot he was in for a few seconds. Huh, maybe he isn't such an asshole. You then put your head back into your arms, smiling softly. “Though I knew that already. Thank you Xiao.” That was the last thing you said before finally succumbing to sleep.

—

While walking down the flights of steps to talk to Verr Goldet about your accommodations, Xiao felt a shiver going up his spine. A whisper of his name in your voice flew through the breeze and into his ears. He paused in his steps, contemplating whether he should go back or not. You said you knew what happens when you called his name, yet why would you say it right after he left the room? Xiao suddenly felt nervous for reasons he did not know and teleported back to his room, polearm at the ready to strike any threats that appeared before you or him.

When he only saw you slouched over the table asleep, he relaxed. That was strange. I could have sworn I heard her beckon me. Glancing at you once more, he decided to ask you about it later. He then left the room and teleported right in front of the front desk, scaring Verr Goldet and the Inn’s cat out of their wits.

“Archons, Xiao! A little warning next time would be nice!” Verr Goldet exclaimed, a hand over heart hoping it wouldn't burst out of her chest. Xiao proceeded to ignore her.

“I need a vacant room.” Xiao stated.

Always straight to the point, thought Verr Goldet. “I'm sorry Xiao, but we don't have any vacant rooms. We're all booked for this years Lantern Rite Festival.” She tells Xiao. The young adeptus deadpanned at Verr Goldet. “Don't look at me like that. Why do you even need another room?” Verr Goldet wondered.

Xiao sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It's a complicated situation. Let's just say I have an unwelcome guest with me right now.”

Although curious, Verr Goldet just shrugged knowing he wouldn’t outright tell her. “Well either they stay with you or you kick them out. We don't have any rooms for them to stay in unfortunately, so the choice is yours.”

The young adeptus sighed once more.

How troublesome.

—

Appearing back in his room, Xiao looked at you. You were still hunched over the table, in what looked like an uncomfortable position, yet you were still asleep. Xiao weighed his options. On one hand, if you stayed with him he didn't know if you would leave, which would cause problems for the both of them. On the other hand, he could wake you up and kick you to the streets but deal with gnawing guilt that would eat at him if you were ever harmed because of his decisions.

Making up his mind, he walked over to your sleeping form. He then crouched next to you and gently scooped into his arms, doing his best not to wake you. However it seems that you were a deep sleeper and didn't stir in the slightest to being moved. You did, however, snuggle in closer to his chest seeking the warmth it gave off.

Xiao froze, waiting for you to stop moving before moving you over to his bed. Settling you on the bed, you immediately started reaching for blankets craving the protection they gave you from the cold. Xiao only shook his head and rolled his eyes at you, handing you the blankets you oh-so-desperately needed. Is she really twenty-two? Because she acts like a child. Xiao watched as you pulled the blankets up to your chin and snuggled into his pillow, [h/l] [h/c] hair draping over it.

Not needing sleep, the young adeptus decided to sit next to you and watch over you. Not in a creepy way, but in more of a way of trying to understand you. You might have been the strangest human he's ever met, but you were charming. In your own, unique way.

While watching you, Xiao was trying to figure out what to do with you. As far as he knew, you were defenseless, didn't know how to protect yourself, and had a sharp tongue that would most definitely get you into trouble.

In other words, Xiao hadn't thought that far ahead.

There she is! Chapter One! I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! As always, feel free to leave any suggestions and constructive criticism and if you wish to be on the taglist, please let me know!

Thank you for reading!

Taglist:

@craptainlou @lucys-art @dilucsz @i-put-the-dying-in-studying @softyakult @lumi-ying @fraeppuccino @ayachii @cher7ybear @simping-4-fictional-men

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

Extraneous Variable 2

Error: n2.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Brainy x Reader.

Word count: 2520.

“AAAAAAAAAAH!” You yell when you realize, and you look at Kara on the other side rushing to open your lab door to understand why you’re yelling. “DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR!”

You look at the clothes they put next to you on the floor and sigh. They are not going to fit your very big and masculine body. And oh no, you have that between your legs.

“What’s wrong with your voice?” You hear Lena’s voice from the other side and look at Kara lowering her glasses. Oh no. You cover your very strange new body part, without touching it, and it’s Kara’s turn to yell.

“She’s a boy!” Kara screams covering her eyes. “My beautiful, beautiful baby girl is a boy now!”

“AND SHE’S NAKED!” You yell at them.

They all have different expressions. Kara looks terrified, like she just saw someone dying. Alex is laughing so hard next to them. Brainy looks like he’s doing some calculation to see where it all went wrong, and Lena is just shocked.

“Can someone get me some clothes?” You beg, trying not to look down at yourself.

“Go buy her something.” Lena says handing Kara her card. Kara flies away and comes back not long later with some bags.

“I’m going in.” She announces, like she’s going into a war, and you hide yourself behind a chair, like she couldn’t see more if she wanted to. “Oh, Rao. My poor little daughter.”

“Can you just toss me the bags and turn around?” You ask and she does exactly that. You’re into boy’s clothes in no time. “Ok, I’m decent.”

“Ok, ok. No need to freak out. We can reverse this.” Kara says and you look at her. She is clearly freaking out. She must be talking to herself.

“Yeah. Sure hope so.” You go to your lab door and open to everyone on the other side.

“My baby.” Lena touches your face, with tears on her eyes. “Oh no, you have a beard now.”

You touch your face and feel hair on your chin. This is worse than being a baby. Much, much worse.

“No.” You feel tears coming up. You’re the largest, tallest person in the room, and yet you feel so tiny and small and sad! “Mommy.” You turn to Kara. “I have a beard.”

“Oh, my poor sweet girl.” You have to bend yourself to fit into her arms, and it is still weird.

“I should’ve stayed a baby. Why are our lives so weird?” You mumble between your tears and feel Kara’s hand easing up your tense shoulders.

“We’ll figure this out, my love.” She passes her thumb on your forehead, then kisses it. It’s instinct, getting your bangs out of the way, before kissing your forehead. They’ve done it all your life, except now you don’t have bangs. You barely have hair if you’re being honest.

“You know what? You look handsome as a boy.” Aunt Alex jokes and you roll your eyes at her. “What should I call you? What name would you like to have if you were a boy?”

“Well, I would very much like not to be a boy right now!” You wipe your tears but see on her face that she’s trying to ease the mood. So you lean into it, otherwise you might just cry non-stop until you’re back into your old self. “But for now, just call me…” You look around trying to think. “Brainiac 6!”

“That’s funny.” But Brainy doesn’t look amused. “As a matter of fact, there is a Brainiac 6 in the family. I’m not quite sure you would like him.”

“Oooh, family drama!” Alex jokes and you smile.

“Who would think Coluans had such a dramatic background?” You add.

“Everyone?” Brainy misses the sarcasm on your voice, making you and Alex laugh harder.

“Would the three of you stop being funny and transform my babygirl back into a girl?” Lena asks. The three of you lower your heads, feeling embarrassed that Lena had to scold you. You all turn back to the computer and the alien tech in front of you.

“Oh no!” You look at the name on your phone, currently ringing. “It’s my girlfriend! I can’t pick up!” You give your phone to Kara. “Here, you answer!”

“Me?” She holds your phone like it’s a bomb in her hands. “Why me?”

“Because I can’t talk to her with a man’s voice, and if I don’t answer she’ll worry. So just make something up!”

“Then have Lena answer!” She tries to pass the phone to Lena, who ignores it.

“Momma, please!”

“Oh boy.” Kara complains, accepting the call, and slowly putting the phone on her ear, like it’s about to explode. “Oh, hi Maya. It’s, um, it’s Mrs. Danvers! So sorry, she can’t talk right now. No, no, she’s fine. She’s just…” She looks around trying to come up with a lie. “Grounded!” She yells, and you furrow your eyebrows at her. “Yeah, I-I had to ground her, ‘cause she…” Kara is hyperventilating in front of you. “Did something bad. Anyways, I had to take her phone away, so you won’t be able to talk to her for a while? I don’t know how this thing works, but yeah. Ok, have a nice day! Bye!”

“Really? You grounded me?” You take the phone from her hands and put it back in your pocket. “Couldn’t have thought of a more believable lie?”

“It’s believable!” Kara says, getting an eyebrow rise from everyone in the room except Brainy.

“Hardly.” He says, instead. “It’s 10% believable. If you had, however, said that Lena was the one who did the grounding, the lie would’ve been 85% believable.”

“Whatever.” Kara huffs upset, crossing her arms. “I’m so going to ground you someday just to shock everyone.”

“Mhm, honey. Sure you will.” Lena shushes her, and you turn your face to the other side to laugh at her. Kara is such a dork.

You’ve been at it for a while now. Brainy seems to have understood the logic of the alien tech, and then misunderstood it a few times by now. You also don’t have any idea of what was done and how the hell you were turned into a freaking boy.

“I need, um, help.” You whisper to Kara and point to your new private part with your head. She looks down on it with furrowed eyebrows.

“Can’t help with that.” Kara tries to move away from you, and you hold her arm, pulling her back to where you’re standing.

“How do I pee with this thing?” You whisper, terrified someone else might be able to hear you.

“You hold it, aim, and shoot.”

“Are you sure you’re not thinking about a gun?” Kara holds her laugh at that and pulls Lena until she is in front of you.

“Ask your mom, I have to be anywhere, but here.”

“What’s wrong?” Lena asks and you look down on your body. Why does it feel so weird to talk to Lena about that? Maybe you should just google it.

“Besides the fact that I’m a boy now? Nothing. I’m fine. It’s fine.” You walk backwards, cursing Brainy for messing with the alien tech and not being able to bring you back.

It’s late at night when they all decide they are done for the day. You try to protest, spending another day on a boy’s body sounds terrifying, but Alex and Brainy don’t give in and Lena looks scared to touch the tech that wiped her memory. You also think it’s best if Kara doesn’t try anything. So you accept your fate and go home.

“It’s not that bad.” Kara says, lifting your chin up, and you roll your eyes at her. “It could be worse.”

“How? I look like a blonde version of Superboy.”

“Good thing your girlfriend is pansexual!” Kara smiles at you, trying to find the silver line. There is none.

“She’s not going to see me like this! I don’t even want to see myself like this. I have been wanting to go to the bathroom for hours now, and there’s no way I’m going to shower with this whole thing happening down there.”

“Just tuck in and sit.” Lena says coming into the living room and you nearly vomit at the thought.

“Ok, I don’t want to know how you know that.” Kara says and you hold your laughter.

“It makes way more sense than ‘hold, aim and shoot’.”

“What do you think it is? A gun?” Lena asks and you point at her with a victorious smile on your face.

“That’s what I said!”

Lena and her impressive power of reading your mind.

Turns out peeing is not as bad as you thought, at least not now that Lena told you that you don’t have to touch it, and you can sit down while doing so. Still, you don’t shower. That’s next level weird and you’re not ready for it yet.

It’s morning and you’re in the kitchen with your moms and it almost feels like your typical routine. It’s only when you talk and your voice startles them, that you realize none of this is normal. You can’t wait until you’re out of this body.

“Alex said she and Brainy are on their way to L Corp for an early start. Do you mind going there and letting them in your lab?” Kara asks and you stand up right away.

“Are you kidding? Do I mind? I might kiss them when I get there!” You rush to the door, ready to fly away. The good thing about being a boy is that you don’t have to hide your secret identity. This might as well be one.

You open the door and look at Maya on the other side. You see her finger hovering the bell like she was just about to ring it.

Oh no, this can’t be happening! Maya is not supposed to be here! She is not supposed to see you like this! No one is supposed to see you like this.

“Hi.” You try, making your voice sound lower than it already is. Which is damn stupid because she never even heard this voice before.

“Hey! I’m-”

“Maya, yeah, I-I know.” You blink at her while she looks at you very confused. Her eyebrows are pinched together and she’s biting her lower lip. “Oh!” You scratch the back of your head. “I’m-um-I’m, you know it’s a long story. But I’m-”

“She’s my-I mean-he.” Kara looks at you with wide eyes. “He is my nephew! Yeah. Jon Kent.”

“Oh, right. Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Maya raises her hand, and you grab it, giving the weirdest handshake in history.

“I’m sorry to say that your girlfriend is still pretty much grounded.” Kara says, giving Maya a smug smile. “Because you see, I can ground her too! It’s not just Lena! I’m strong enough to do so and I know it sounds surprising but-”

“You know, I don’t think she is surprised.” You stop her, before she blows this for you. “She grounded her own daughter. How crazy, right!”

“Yeah. Wild.” Maya laughs with you. You see a little tinkle in her eyes and you’re almost sure she can see right through your manly body. “I just stopped by to give her this.” She hands Kara a bag with a smile. “I’ll see her when the grounding is over!”

“Which, by the way, I don’t know when that will be. Because I’m still pretty mad at her.” You look at Kara, looking everything but mad, and you sigh.

“Nice to meet you, Maya!”

“Nice to meet you, Jon.” She narrows her eyes at you. “Jon Kent.”

You feel like the collar on your shirt is suddenly too tight around your neck. You try to breathe, but why is the air of the world suddenly gone?

“See you later, Mrs. Danvers.” Maya shrugs and turns around. You’re almost breathing again when you hear. “Tell my girlfriend I’ll wait for her.”

You and Kara look at each other with wide eyes and mouth agape.

“Will do!” Kara says, waving at Maya. “This can’t get any worse, right?” Kara whispers through her smile while still waving at Maya who is not even looking at both of you anymore.

“Sure it can. Just give yourself a minute.” You pat her back and get inside the house. “Why did you tell her I was Jon? What will happen when the real Jon Kent comes to visit?”

“Well, I don’t know! I’m not good at lying on the spot. Neither are you, by the way! You looked like you were about to combust into flames!”

“Next time, I’ll just ask mom! At least she can lie better.” You point at Lena, who agrees with her head without looking at you.

“Yes, Luthors are great at lying and, the ones who are blessed with, also have great hair.” She smiles looking up and gives you and Kara a few minutes to recover from the burst of laughter. “Can we go now?”

“Only if you tell Alex that joke.” Kara agrees and Lena smiles, much too content with herself.

You get to your lab faster than Kara and Lena, and at the same time Brainy and Alex get there. Brainy thinks he’s got it, so you stay by his side for moral support.

You hear a click on your back, and you look behind you to see aunt Alex with her phone pointed at you.

“Jamie was curious.” She explains and you roll your eyes. “Can you turn to me so I can send one of your face?”

“Are you guys serious right now?” You ask and she shrugs.

“It’s not everyday you get turned into a boy, kiddo!” She jokes and you turn to the camera and give her your best smile. She sends the picture to Jamie and giggles at her phone. “Kelly and Jamie said you’re a catch!”

“Ugh. Go faster Brainy!”

Lucky for you, he indeed knows how to reverse it. Or he looks like he knows. You guess you’ll see. Kara and Lena get there, and you feel confident in trying now.

“Should we leave the room?” Kara asks, and Brainy denies with his head.

“I believe I mastered a way of only affecting the man in the room, so you three can stay and I’ll step outside for a minute. Alex?” He calls and she comes closer. “Just press this when I’m out of the room.”

“Got it.” She gives him two thumbs up, and you watch Brainy making his way out of the room. “Ready, babyboy?”

“Ugh, just go on with it already.” You beg and it doesn’t take her much more to press the button Brainy told her.

The room flashes blue, and you stand in front of a mirror excitedly. You see your image changing from boy to girl and you almost jump in excitement.

“YES! IT WORKED!” You yell, so damn happy you actually jump and squeaky. “Guys! I’m me again!”

You turn around to look at Kara, Lena and Alex.

“AAAAAH!”

“WHAT!”

“What the actual FUCK!”

Notes:

Another funny prompt by @oncemoonie I’m having way too much fun with this series.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #alex danvers #reader insert

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dreadwulf · 3 years

Text

prompt #1: The Green Knight

(Warning: Major Character Death. Not the Major Character you think. Be warned.)

The Green Chapel stands still and silent when the Golden Knight arrives.

Once he had expected a fine cathedral to await him at the of his journey, but by now he is unsurprised to find a crumbled ruin overgrown with ivy. Only the stone walls remain of this “chapel”. The sunken paving stones admit dirt and weeds between them enough that it is barely distinguishable from the forest floor, and the roof is long since fallen in. Everywhere it is overgrown with thick green leaves and vines, and surrounded by a canopy of trees that opens only enough to admit a slice of night sky directly above.

Ser Jaime Lannister enters watchfully, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The Green Knight is nearly invisible to him at first: concealed in greenery, grown into the landscape as though part of it. The bark of his skin is encrusted with moss, leaving no visible gap between himself and the plants around him. Judging from the growth, the Knight has not moved in a long, long while.

Has he stood exactly here for the entire year, waiting for him? It looks more like a statue, or a tree carving. Something long abandoned. Much longer than a single year.

“Ser Knight,” he announces, “I have arrived per our agreement.”

Silence.

There is only him here, and a tree that looks only a little like a man.

He is early, Ser Jaime realizes. Will be it dawn of the day, or the very hour of their meeting? He may be here for some time. It will be hours to dawn, and it had been another sundown after that when the Green Knight had ridden into Robert’s court on his enormous steed.

One year hence, the Knight had said. Well, at least he is not late.

The pre-dawn hours are quiet here, and the grove is peaceful. The trees overhead open out onto a pretty sprinkling of stars, and all the noise of the forest and the brook which has lead him here has faded away. He can see why the locals call this the Green Chapel. It is the sort of place that encourages one to pray, and to contemplate, at least if one is given to introspection and piety.

Which he is usually not.

The Golden Knight quickly grows restless. Waiting is not a skill of his. He is impatient by nature, impetuous and impulsive. Faced with delay he will rush things ahead, or abandon his course. Unless, as in this case, he has no choice but to wait, and then he will be overcome with unease.

He paces. His fingers twitch. His gaze darts around, landing on this and that.

There is no sign of movement from the Green Knight.

If he had not seen him walking and talking, he might assume this to be only a sculpture, and not a living being. He might wonder if he had been tricked, and if some unseen enemy hovered nearby laughing at his predicament. But he has seen the Green Knight up close, and ran him through with his own blade, and watched as the great gnarled hands pulled the greatsword from his own breast as casually as a thorn from his finger, and tossed the weapon aside as though it were a child’s plaything.

His hands curl around the same greatsword at his belt. He has carried it for a year, this sword. It was his prize for accepting the Green Knight’s challenge, and ostensibly he is here to return it. When he does, the knight will return him the same blow, and stab him through the heart.

Was it worth it? What, after all, did he do with his fine sword?

Ser Jaime sighs and sits on the wet ground. He can grow no more muddy and disheveled than he is already. He left King’s Landing in his extravagant golden armor, wearing his lion’s helm, and riding the finest horse in his stable. But he arrives in the Green Chapel on foot, with no helm, dressed in shabby clothing and battered bits of armor. Even his golden hair is shorn, and only a thin growth of hair remains of his famous golden curls.

The only thing of value remaining to him is the sword. And to be quite honest, the Green Knight is welcome to it. If he could, he would exchange it for something much more valuable that he had found, and then lost, along the way.

It had taken many weeks to get him here. There were some diversions - misadventures, a strange episode in a Keep, and a good deal of wandering around lost - but he has come a very long way from Robert’s Court to find himself here. He had managed the journey only with the help of his squire.

The girl had joined him on the road on the very first day. She was part of the crowd that had followed him from the gates, those knight-hopefuls who so frequently followed his footsteps around the city. Most wanted some of his glory, hoped for it to spill onto them by mere proximity. Some wanted merely to see him meet his fate, others to be part of that tale if they could. But there was very little glory in this journey. They had been beset by bandits, wild animals, bad weather, and strange side-tracks from almost the very start

There had been six, even eight of them at a time, during the ride through the Westerlands, but as he traveled further and further from the capital and the weather worsened their number dwindled, and by the tenth night there was only her. Her name was Brienne. If she had another he has already forgotten it.

She was a strange girl, ungainly large, and dressed all in armor, in imitation of a knight. She had a face like rotten fruit, softly misshapen. Her straw-blonde hair, ruddy and pox-marked skin, and stubborn pout completed the picture. Her very presence proved subtly irritating. If a maid cannot be beautiful she might at least keep herself out of sight; or else be a servant, who are barely women to begin with.

His followers quickly decided to make a servant of her. This did not go well. Ser Jaime came upon her fighting three of the men on the third night. One of them had blood streaming from his nose already, another was sitting on the ground looking dazed from a blow to the head. The last was seemingly unfazed by the fate of the other two, and Ser Jaime observed him take a good punch to the chin that left him spitting out teeth. They were trying to steal her supper, she said. The girl should be cooking for us all, the men said.

“She is my squire”, Ser Jaime told them, deciding upon it at that very moment. “She will cook supper for only me.”

“Like hell I will,” the ungrateful wench spat at him.

Ser Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Do you wish to be a knight or not? First you must be a squire.”

She did at that. She did wish it, very much. He can see it in her eyes -- striking blue eyes, with a determined gaze.

Brienne did cook his supper, the next night, over the campfire. Not very well, and he did not insist again. But she also tended his armor and sword, and that she did very well indeed. She handled his greatsword with tremendous respect and care, such that it touched him to see. He had long since stopped being impressed by the blade, after carrying it for a year.

Brienne proved a loyal squire, if not the most typical one. When wolves attacked she proved herself courageous, stood herself well in front of older and more experienced men. When there was work to be done she would be first to do it, and without being asked: gathering firewood, tending the horses. Drudgery she avoided, but practical, necessary things she performed without complaint.

She had very blue eyes. Sky eyes, clear and bright. He would have liked to look at them, except that she would be looking back, and that seemed to frighten her. She did not like to look him in the face. A shy maid, for all her armor and prickly temperament. He liked to tease her, and tell bawdy jokes with the other men until her face turned a pleasant pink.

A skirmish with the Brave Companions lost three of his would-be-knights and all of their horses,and it lead to their capture for a brief time. When they managed to escape, they were left traveling afoot, and without their supplies. His other followers drifted off then, losing their taste for adventure. Only the girl remained, and walked beside him along the road North uncomplaining through the long days ahead.

She was good with a blade, better than most. Not so good as Ser Jaime, who had a prodigious talent. But on the occasions he challenged her to spar with him, she got his blood up and roaring in a way he had not felt since he was a young man himself, and all his adventures before him.

She was kind. Too reserved to be gregarious, but generous in spirit. She took pity on every foundling, every poor farmer and milkmaid they encountered along the way. She wanted to help them, rescue them all; if he had not restrained her they would have been fighting for the honor of each individual cow from the Westerlands to the Neck. She was much disappointed that they hadn’t. What is a knight for, if not that?

She would learn, as he once had. The Knights of Robert’s Kingdom were more tarnished than a starry-eyed squire suspected. Heroes and legends in tales were only men in the flesh, and men with a bit of money and renown all went the same way. Given the best of everything they would indulge themselves, would grow greedy, would came to expect what had once been freely given. They fought not for gods and country but for glory, and mainly fought each other. They plundered wealth and women, sat by roaring fires, went slow, went soft, forgot hunger and killing cold.

Honor was a facade, nothing more. To become a knight was to learn it. It made him glad she would never be knighted, and fail that lesson.

“Entertain me, squire,” he said to her as they rode side-by-side, needling her. “I have heard all of the songs and stories of this land, and they bore me. Tell me a tale of yourself, Squire Brienne. What adventures set you on this course to become a knight?”

She bowed her head. “I have no tales to tell, my lord. It is only a wish, and an aspiration. But I have no adventures but the one we are on now. But you, my lord, are a famous knight, and must have many stories to tell. I would be honored to hear them from your own lips.”

Ser Jaime had hundreds of tales. He has boasted of his adventures to innumerable audiences as they looked on him admiringly, the great Golden Knight. Wins at tourney, duels with other knights, riding to war for King Robert. But for some reason, as he turned them over in his mind, he discarded each of his favorite stories one by one. He did not want to tell them now; those stories are not for her.

“I also have no tales to tell,” he said.

“Are you not on a quest, my lord?” She looked over at him quizzically, her blue eyes innocent. “I hear tell you are riding to the Green Chapel in the north…”

“I am, and to meet the Green Knight. But even I am not so bold as to tell that tale when I do not yet know its ending. But it sounds like you could, Squire Brienne.”

Again she frowned at him for that title. But she did know the bare outlines of the story, how the strange Green Knight had rode into King Robert’s court and invited the bravest and boldest of his knights to face him in battle, to strike a single blow and receive a blow in return, and for it they would gain his greatsword as a prize. How the Golden Knight had taken up the challenge, and in a blow of great talent and precision stabbed the Golden Knight through the heart, finding the weakest point in his armor on a single try. But instead of falling down dead, the Green Knight had easily pulled the blade from his own chest and mounted his horse. He told the Golden Knight to meet him in one year at the Green Chapel, where he would return his blow.

“And I see you do not hesitate to keep your word,” Brienne concluded the tale. “You are as bold and brave as all the stories say. But what will you do when you get there?”

“Fight him, I suppose.” Ser Jaime’s hand tensed around the ruby-encrusted pommel of his borrowed sword.

“Ser?” She blinked back at him in confusion.

“What, you expected I would meekly bow my head and be murdered? Of course not.” Ser Jaime’s shoulders shook. “Twas not a fair bargain, when he has such dark magic that he can take a sword through the heart and survive. I have no such magic, and it isn’t a fair exchange.”

“But you did not have to strike a deathblow. By the bounds of the agreement you might have only scratched him, and taken only a scratch in return.”

Well, yes. In hindsight, that would have been wiser. If he had taken the time to think it over, he might have put that together. But by nature he rarely takes that time.

“He was a large and fearsome Knight, and I thought only to prevent the return blow. Of course if I had known he would survive it I would have acted differently. I know it now. And when I see the Knight this time I will fight him with everything I have, and he will fight me with everything He has, and we will see who is the victor.”

“But you made a promise…” She sounded faintly disappointed, and it irritated him greatly.

“It was a trick, girl. A trick to snare a knight by his honor. Would you have me die for a trick? What good will that serve? No, I will keep my appointment as promised, but he will have to work to land his blow against me. I’ll have my skill and my wit to defend me, as he had his magic.”

“Are you not afraid, Ser?”

“Afraid to fight? Never. It will be a fine duel, perhaps the finest of my life, and I am eager for it. It will be the battle that will make my legend, the kind that songs are sung of, and I look forward to that.”

Brienne said that she hoped to see it, and let the matter lie.

She did not see it, of course. They came to the Crossroads instead.

An inn stood at the crossroads, and cast-offs from the Riverlands sheltered there. Orphans and strays. Jaime and Brienne arrived only long enough to see a great many helpless faces before bandits came riding, meaning to plunder the kitchens, and carry off the women and children.

Jaime told the girls to run away as best they could, and aimed to do the same. If they were quick about it, the raiders couldn’t catch them all.

Brienne, on the other hand, meant to defend them. They would not survive alone in the forest, she said, and if the bandits took away the food, the little ones would starve.

“Better the bandits take them then, one or the other,” he said quickly, tugging at her. “But we had best retreat. We will not manage another fight in our condition, and not without more men.”

This was entirely reasonable, to him; better knights than he had often advised the same. There was no glory in failure, and certainly none in a pointless death in the middle of nowhere.

“No.” Brienne grew taller under his grasp, and would not be moved. “What good is a knight if he will not defend the innocent?”

“You stupid girl.” He holds her by the shoulders. “There is nothing you and I alone can do against so many men, no matter how skilled you are with a blade. They will surround us and cut us down -- it won’t even buy any time for your orphans. The best we can do is live to fight another day.”

“Someone must do something,” she says stubbornly. “I will not run.”

“Not to no avail! A battle is bravery, but this is suicide. It’s foolish, meaningless. It will make no difference whether you intervene or not - either way the women are taken and the children are killed. You will only add another body.”

“Someone must fight for them,” she insists. “Even if there is no hope. I am not enough, but if there is no one else, then it will be me.”

With that, she had shoved him in the larder, with a sudden and ferocious strength, and barred the door.

“Let me free, you stupid child!” He slammed his weight into the door sharply with his shoulder, enraged.

He could hear her through the door, her voice steady and clear.

“Someone must fight for them. If there is no one else, then it will be me.”

“Damn you,” he swore at her. “Open the door and I will fight with you. Two against a dozen is better odds than one. Open the door!”

“You have an appointment to keep,” she said, and then there was silence.

Jaime could not see what happened after that, but he could hear it. He could hear the disdainful laughter of the brighands, and the drawing of many blades. He could hear for a time the blades clashing, and much shouting, and one unfamiliar cry of pain, and for a brief moment he was hopeful that she might prevail. She was a talented swordfighter. If they fought her one at a time he had no doubt she could best them.

He could tell, even without seeing, that they did not. The fight turned, became a slaughter. He heard a single cry that he knew in his gut was Brienne, taking a blow she would not survive. There came more noise then, more steel and blows, and then the screams of the women and children being dragged from the Inn.

He screamed too. He wept, and clutched at his useless greatsword in a rage, wanting to throw himself through the door and impale himself on them like an arrow, these animals who would dare to touch a true knight. None of them seemed to hear him, or proved interested in the larder.

He didn’t know how long he had been left sitting there on the floor, with tears on his face and the earthy smell of raw meat weighting him down in the cool darkness. He waited for one of them, any of them, to remember him in the kitchens and come back, but no one did, and that was how he knew that no one remained. He wondered if he would be left there to rot. To moulder away with the bits of cheese and bread that remained there until he was nought but bones and a borrowed sword.

Eventually, quietly, a small boy with enormous eyes unbarred the door, having emerged from his hidey-hole only hours after the vicious intruders had left. Seeing Jaime huddled in the dark, he fled again and hid himself away in the Inn.

Jaime emerged into the twilight reluctantly. When he looked down the road, he imagined he could see them. The prisoners being taken away in the back of some wagon, women and children and women who were really children still, huddled together and weeping, down the long road and away. It was all for nothing, all of this. The brigands had taken them anyway.

There was no glory in this defeat. There was only a bloodstreaked trench in the mud where a terrible battle occurred, and in the middle of it a sad heap of metal. She was unrecognizable there, cut to pieces. Only a few strands of pale blonde hair remained to know her by.

The blacksmith’s armory had implements enough to break the cold ground. He dug a hole right beside the crossroads while the rain bucketed down on him. His chest hurt from the strangled sob caught in it. He put her in the hole and blanketed her again with the mud. If there had been flowers anywhere in that season in all the land he would have found them and laid them there above her grave. One day, he hoped, grass would grow.

It was a meaningless gesture, and made no difference to the blue-eyed girl. But it meant something to Jaime.

It was not meaningless to them, the shivering children and the sad-faced women riding away in the wagons. They had looked back, mournfully, at the place in the road where her body lay. Looked back down the long road, into the distance, through the rain and the trees and the tramping feet of the bandits’ horses and out of sight, and they kept looking. They would look back long after the rain and wind had wiped away any traces of what had happened there. They would not forget. When the enemy came for them, someone took up a blade in their cause. Someone thought they mattered. Someone thought they were worth dying for. They did not face their fate alone.

When evil comes, so long as at least one person stands against it, there is still some light left in the world.

He left the shovel there in the road and went back to the Inn. It took some time to locate the boy and persuade him to come out of the trunk where he had hidden himself. He carried the boy with him North to the next village, where he left him wordlessly at the Sept, and turned North again, alone.

The rain never stops now. The ground is crusted with snow and the air is wet and mossy and somehow the rains never wash anything away. It only soaks into the dirt and grime and ice and blood and weighs it down. Makes it heavier. Makes everything impossibly heavy.

There are more strange things that happen to him then: how the road curves and wanders beneath his feet and doubles him back to the start as though trying to throw him off his course. There were strange dreams, and visions, and he walks in a sort of fever. Nothing seems quite real after the Crossroads, nothing except the sword in his hand and his goal: the Green Chapel. He has an appointment to keep.

He grows only more determined to reach his destination.

The nights grow colder. He wakes up shivering, rolling over, trying to wake the embers of the fire, and every time his eyes open they are looking for the foolish girl in her armor. They find only blackness and he remembers then the crossroads and the hole he dug besides the road.

He missed her terribly.

He misses her still, sitting here before the Green Knight. It is a persistent ache, a weight that grows heavier by the day. It makes him feel ancient to contemplate. He sounds like one of the rusty old knights who cluster around Robert, lamenting the roads not taken, the women they might have settled down with. Lost loves. It has been only days and yet it seems like years ago, and a road already overgrown and impassable. He can see it already, the enormity of his mistake. His life might have become something entirely different, improbably better. The opportunity came to him, and he wasted it.

Brienne. The Maiden Knight. She could have been his lady love and his brother-at-arms all at once. Would anything have been so perfectly suited to him as that? He will never find her like again, and even if he did he would not want it; he will only want her, for the rest of his life.

Jaime muses over these memories through the hours. The journey, the past, the world around him. Time seems to settle into a hazy blur.

The sun rises slowly, impossibly slowly. He cannot see it past the trees, but the world gradually brightens, with gentle insistence. The greens grow ever more lush and verdant all around him. The wall where the Green Knight stands turns from grim grey to a lively grass color, the dark ivy wound around in loops that seem to form an altar of deep mossy overgrowth around the still and sleeping form of the Knight.

His hands worry at the hilt of the greatsword that he had come to return. He might leave the blade on the altar and go. Would that fulfill his word?

What did Jaime do with his famous sword, during the year he had it? Only held it aloft for others to see. Used it to threaten, and to cajole. Boasted of it to other lords. But the only time he had just cause to draw it he had chosen to retreat instead, and in doing lost the only thing of any value he had ever found.

If only he had gone with her. Agreed right at the first, without hesitation. If he had stood at her side it might have ended differently. One had no chance, but two, perhaps, might have survived. He might have taken her with him to the Green Chapel. He might have taken her home to the King. He might have seen her made a knight, and stood proudly beside her at the king’s table. The tales he might have made with her, he would be proud to tell.

The Knight’s form comes into clearer and clearer relief: looming over him, impossibly tall, improbably wide.

Jaime knows with cold certainty that the Knight is going to wake very soon. As the light grows stronger, the Green Chapel is waking around him with a thousand tiny movements. He can almost make out the subtle sound of leaves uncurling to the sun, and worms crawling in the earth.

The sword, Oathkeeper, quivers in his hands, as though outraged. How did he dare to carry that blade to this place intending to lie? To break his promise? More and more he thinks he did not. He came here for something else entirely.

Jaime finds, for the first time that he can remember, his hands are trembling. It is one thing to go to battle, but another entirely to go to an execution. His heart beats in his ears with a deep drumbeat of doom... doom... doom...

He’s not here to fight a duel, is he? What, then, is he here for?

Glory? Judgement? Mercy? Absolution?

Or only the cold, mechanical means of his inevitable end?

Was all this journey only for that? Is he truly here only to get a blade through his chest? And if so, might it be worth his while? After all, is there any better way for a knight to die? Will it not be a fitting end to his legend?

But he isn’t ready to die. Not willingly. Not without redeeming his honor, making something of himself. If he had another year… but would he do any more with that than he had the last? Than he has with all of the years thus far? Is there any amount of time that would make any more of himself than he has already?

The time he needed was these weeks on the road with Brienne. That showed him what kind of man he’d like to be. But he failed her when it mattered most. Perhaps he should be judged for that. Not a year from now, nor twenty. Today.

The sun rises higher in the sky, and paints the Green Chapel gold. The air warms, and birdsong calls to him on the breeze. The day is relentlessly pleasant, with a promise of endless more such days to follow. A bittersweet longing fills him. It has never seemed half so lovely to be alive as it does in this beautiful place. If only he could have brought her here.

I will be brave, he says to himself. Like Brienne.

All at once there is a great creaking sound of wood bending and tearing, and when Jaime looks up the green altar is moving. Green leaves tremble and wave purposefully, and twigs and small branches snap and fall away to rest in the dirt below. The trunk of the altar pulls itself free, excavates itself from the enclosure in the leaves and branches. Limbs pull free, and something nearly human rises out of the green, the bark of its skin glistening, newborn.

The Green Knight is standing.

Jaime looks up, and up, and up, from where he sits on the mossy floor of the green chapel, and his hand grips the hilt of his sword.

He is ready to fight, by instinct, and to flee, by sudden impulse. He is afraid, he realizes, afraid in a way he has never been before. There is more than a blow to the heart to fear here. There is the fate of his soul, which is suddenly entirely in question. Before his journey he had no doubt of his own worth as a knight, and now he is just as certain in the opposite direction. Is he worthy? He is not. He is not.

Slowly, he stands. The sun shines down on him through the same corridor in the trees where he had watched the stars the night previous, and its warmth is a rebuke; why should the sun shine upon one such as him? He is the golden knight no more. He is only a man, a man with a sword that does not belong to him.

His eyes raise last of all.

Jaime finds through the golden light the Green Knight’s face. The eyes first, through a thin bloom of leaves and moss, and then the nose, the jawline. He has never seen it so clearly before, not even when he had stabbed her through the heart. With slow realization his eyes travel down and up again, taking in the shape of his host, and her nature.

The Green Knight is a woman? Why didn’t he realize it before?

It seems only too clear now. The slight narrowing of the waist and wrists, and in the face… not a pretty face, but undeniably feminine. Full lips, round cheeks, and the eyes...

Blue eyes. Beautiful blue, sad blue, noble and sorry. The lost blue of long-forgotten clear skies.

When he sees them his hands stop shaking. All is well. His grand sword slips from his fingers and settles softly in the grass, sinks gently into the ground, is welcomed.

“It’s you,” he says. “I’m glad it’s you.”

The girl from the Crossroads is standing before him.

He doesn’t understand how it is possible. Was she always the Knight? Was all an illusion? Was the Knight in disguise when he met her, or was the Knight once that girl? But it doesn’t matter. Whoever she is, she is here now, and it is good and right that this happen to him.

Her voice is low and rusty, like a hinge that has not moved in many years, and slow in its opening.

“You... kept... our appointment,” the Knight creaks.

His mouth is gone dry. “One year hence. You gave me time enough. And so I am here.”

He thinks he sees her smile, faintly. With the crackling sound of breaking branches, the Knight gestures to his feet.

“You... dropped your sword... my Lord.” Ser Jaime glances down at Oathkeeper, already disappearing beneath the twining vines on the forest floor. “Is it not time... for our blades to cross? A duel to make your legend?”

“I made you a promise,” he says faintly, and puts a hand over his unguarded heart. “It seems my word is all I have, and if it means nothing to anyone else, it means something to me.”

She smiles. An oaken hand reaches out and touches him on the face, gently. “My brave knight.”

Her eyes are the bluest skies he has ever seen. He is not afraid. Not anymore.

“Are you ready?” she asks him, still stroking his cheek.

“Yes.” He is eager for it now. “Strike your blow.”

“Straight through the heart,” she agrees. Then she reaches out with her other hand to touch the other side of his face.

She kisses him.

#dreadwulf fic #jaime lannister #braime

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henryobsessed · 3 years

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The Veterinarian and the Werewolf - Chapter 12

Word Count: 1838

Warning: Angst

A/N: Thank you @sillyrabbit81 and @amberangel112 for your help and encouragement. Also to my lovely readers, your comments on this story have been so engaging and encouraging :)

Chapter 12 – Jessie

Jessie had waited impatiently at the tree. They had fallen asleep together and she had been so eager to be wrapped up in his arms. But here she was waiting. It had felt like ages since she had arrived when she heard it. The sound of snapping jaws and deep desperate snarls. Standing, wondering if she needed to run, a wolf broke into the clearing. It wasn’t any wolf; it was Henry’s wolf.

“Henry are you ok?” she asked, watching carefully to see if it truly was Henry or if his wolf had taken control. But the look of anger and pain she saw in his eyes as he looked at her told her that this was Henry. This was the man she had grown to love; his feelings were clouding his mind right now and she knew she needed to be careful. He was unpredictable, what else could she do but offer a safe haven for him when he was ready.

She slowly knelt down, patting her lap, letting him know she was ok and that she was there for him. All the while she watched as he paced back and forth, each footfall a deliberate strike against the earth. Whatever had set him off must not have been good, she had never seen him in human form or wolf form this angry and in this much pain apart from that first night. Even then he had calmed the moment her presence had been seen. He continued to pace but his footfall grew softer, then he turned walking towards her. She could see his eyes no longer held the blaze of fire instead a pool of pain lingered. He laid his head in her lap, her hand automatically moving to caress him. She felt his body shudder beneath her hand as his breathing evened out.

At that moment she felt the shudder flow from his body to hers. She could feel his emotions, the grief, the pain and yet the comfort that she was giving him overshadowed all the other feelings. She closed her eyes focusing on the overwhelming sensations, breathing in the smells that surrounded her, the sounds of the birds chirping and then a snapping. Her eyes opened quickly searching the bushes until she realised the sound was coming from Henry. She stilled, not knowing what was happening, fear-fille her as she watched his limbs contort and change. Awe consumed her as she watched his human form appear, then heat crept up her cheeks as she realised clothes were not a part of the transformation.

You would think that seeing her lover in all his glory would make her desire him. And truth be told she did linger on his impressive organ between his legs, something she had felt many times but never seen. But all that was quickly consumed by the sound of Henry, his exertion evident by his laboured breathing and shuddering chest. Her hand tentatively reached out touching his hair as if he might break.

“Henry” she breathed softly, calmly. “Henry, are you ok? Can you tell me what happened?” His body curled up, shivering, his head turning to find her eyes. Not willing for him to see her fear she softened her features, leaning down and kissed his forehead. “It’s ok sweetheart, you’re safe.” Her whispers sounded as if they were shouted in the stillness of the forest. All the animals halted their sounds as if listening to their conversation.

He reached his large hand up to her cheek, touching her, as his horse voice broke, “I thought I had lost you, the forest would not let me reach you. I…”

Her hand braced his own against her face as she kissed his palm. “Shh, my love. It’s ok, your here and I am here. Nothing can harm us here.” They stayed in that embrace until their bodies calmed, their breathing gentled. Finally, the trees began to move again, the birds began to make their song as Henry shut his eyes and slept, his body exhausted. She smiled down at his face, the peace, when he was asleep, was something she had not had the privilege to witness until now. Her mind chuckled at the thought of him sleeping within a dream. She spent that rare time memorising the contours of his face. The way his nose was slightly crooked, his chin dimpled, his brow creased and the smile lines in his cheeks. For a short moment, she felt true peace, which gave her the determination that nothing would happen to her precious mate.

That morning she awoke to an empty bed, she could hear the sound of voices happy and laughing down in the kitchen. One more than she was prepared for, she walked down she saw Tom, Joe, Henry, and a strange man. However, it became very apparent who it was by the way that Joe was hanging off his body. This must be the allusive Dillon who she had spoken to on the phone but never met in person. He was everything opposite to Joe. While Joe had blonde hair, Dillion’s was black, where Joe was colour and bubbliness, Dillion was goth, his black clothing and pale skin accentuating his lack of sun. His profession was a gaming programmer who rarely left his house, so the fact that Joe had managed to get him to come out was amazing.

She stood for that moment and watched the banter, and friendship in the room. Even Henry was yipping as if he was joining in the conversation. Who would have thought that she would ever have this in her life? She saw that they had missed getting the milk, so turning she went outside. There, as usual, was the two bottles of fresh milk but what she saw next chilled her heart. A letter with a small poise of flowers sat up against the milk. She knew it wasn’t from Tom, so was it from Boyd? Not wanting to disturb the merriment inside she opened the letter.

Dear Jessie,

I know you were upset the last time we spoke, so I am willing to overlook your disrespectful behaviour. We have to talk, so you will meet me today just after lunch at the big tree in the forest. Come alone. I would hate for anything bad to happen to your precious wolf. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that Tom stayed over last night. If you want to keep him safe too, you will not let him know where you are going.

Our life together is going to be so special; I can picture you swollen with my children cooking in our kitchen. No need for you to keep your hobby working with animals, you will be too busy looking after me.

I love you Jessie and you will be mine.

Love

Boyd.

A shiver of fear ran down her back, not for her own safety but for that of her mate, and her friends. Stuffing the note in her pocket she picked up the milk leaving the flowers in the dirt and headed inside.

That morning she tried to enjoy the banter and giggles around her house. They had all decided to stay and keep her company. While Joe and Tom set about picking board games to play from the family cupboard, Dillon sat on his laptop in the living room. Henry was quietly watching her as she began making snacks.

“Come on Henry. Why don’t you go get the bag of chips from the pantry hmm?” A sparkle lit his eyes as he trotted off bringing back the Lays chips held daintily between his teeth so as not to damage them. “Go on, take them into the living room and give them to Dillion.” He tilted his head just slightly then nodded before heading out.

How was she going to get away with so much activity? Actually, it ended up very simple. After a morning of games and fun and food, they had settled into the living room to watch a movie. Jessie excused herself to go to the bathroom. After returning she noticed they were all preoccupied. Joe in Dillon's arms and Henry curled up next to Tom, where he had previously been turned the other way his head on her lap. Taking her chance, she slipped out the door and headed to her tree.

The walk that normally was filled with calm, instead anxiety was thrumming through her body. What was she going to say to him? How could she get him to leave Henry and Tom alone? As she stepped into the clearing, it was almost like a scene from her dreams, her tree, the wood filled with the sound of birds and other animals. But instead of Henry waiting at the tree, it was Boyd. Leaning against the tree, his tall, built body, no matter how appealing, held no enjoyment. Nothing like the fluttering in her stomach when she saw Henry.

“Well little lady, you took your time.” His rich voice sent the wrong kind of shivers down her back.

“What do you want Boyd? I made myself pretty clear the other night I do not want anything to do with you. So, you can stop this nonsense and give up.” Her voice held more authority than she knew she had as she tried to stare down the man.

Just like an animal, he seemed to pull up taller at the challenge. “Well now ain’t that a pretty speech, but you see I have the upper hand here. All it would take is a small word to the sheriff that your wolf tried to bite me, and he will force you to put him down. I can’t possibly imagine how heartbreaking it would be to have to do that yourself seeing as you are the only one qualified in this area. Plus, that little pansy of a boy that seems so infatuated with you, just one word from me to my boys and he won’t be able to get out of bed for months. And before you think running to his dad, he is backing me on this, he has no love for the boy.”

Jessie began to shake. What was she going to do? How could she even pretend to love this bastard? Boyd stepped closer just out of reach, spitting some chewing tobacco to the ground before he drawled, “"Now.. Come here little one, give me a kiss before I force it from you"

Trembling, she didn’t know what to do. She was ready to do almost anything, but the idea of kissing that filthy mouth and submitting to this animal was abhorrent. He took another step forward before she heard a deep throaty growl behind her.

Nooo!!!

What happened next all seemed to go by in slow motion. Henry jumping in between her and Boyd, the cocky grin on his face before he pulled a pistol from his side, and the sound of the gun going off.

Chapter 13

#The Veterinarian and the Werewolf #henry cavill #werewolf #true mates

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couchpotatoaniki · 3 years

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Our Fruitless Tree

As children, the three of you were inseparable. To show this, you planted a mulberry tree together--a symbol of your love and ever-lasting friendship that would withstand the test of time. But would it really?

Pairing: Servant!Hongjoong x Royal!Reader x Nobleman!Seonghwa Genre: Royal AU, Arranged marriage AU, Love triangle, heavy angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers (?), Fantasy AU, Warnings: swearing, mentions of conception, blood, death (unknown terminal illness; tree), unrequited love, extremely poor story-telling, magic torture, Word Count: 5.8k+

@atozfic IT MAY BE SHIT, BUT THIS ONE’S FOR YOU /g

A/N: the bridal bouquet in this is inspired by Princess Diana’s. I dunno, I just really liked it.

“Y/N! Come look over here!” Seonghwa yelled at you, hand waving in the air to beckon you over where Hongjoong and he stood. Even as children, the two were taller than you, as if their bodies had not cared you were of a higher status.

You were the only child of the Kingdom’s royal family, meaning that you had little in the way of friends. Especially when the future crown stuck to you, intimidating any future playmates. Luckily Seonghwa was the son of a family friend--a nobleman with immense power, who’s faithful lineage dated back to the creation of the kingdom.

Hongjoong was similar, the only difference being that he came from that of a servant family than of one of power, a debt made by his ancestors that had sold his life to serve the royal family. But being your servant had taught him from a young age that, unlike what everyone had tried to make you believe, you were pretty much a normal human with feelings, the weight of an entire empire on your shoulders from the day you were born.

“Coming!” you yelled back, hurriedly making your way towards your only two friends, the younger holding something behind his back while the older was practically bouncing with excitement. “What are you hiding from me?”

Grinning, Seonghwa’s hands pulled into sight, unfurling to show off the sapling in his hand. “It’s a mulberry tree! You love mulberries, don’t you?”

You believe that was the first time your heart skipped a beat--at the young age of 11--but you wouldn’t realise until a quite few years later, when life was much different, though the relationship between the three of you had not changed all that much.

That day was a precious memory, where the three of you had planted the young mulberry sapling in a secret garden that your father had built just for you, but you had opened it to Seonghwa and Hongjoong; a place where none of you had to bare the titles hovering over your heads.

Even the Earth was indiscriminate when it came to dirtying your clothes as you all kneeled to plant the young sapling easily becoming the most important thing in your friendship.

Had the three of you acting as if it was your shared child, arguing who would water the roots, talking to it as if it could respond.

As the years went on, life was much different than when you were all naïve children, but the care and love you had never weakened, even during the occasional arguments that burst between you all.

With age, Hongjoong’s untameable burnt-chocolate hair lightened to a gentle chestnut, long enough that he had to tie it back into a little bun. Seonghwa’s hair, on the other hand, had changed from a soft platinum to a dirty blonde, messy strands now pulled down into a neat style.

The two were lean. Both still taller than you, though Hongjoong was only a few inches from you.

The three of you truly believed you could withstand the test of time. That your relationship would never change no matter how long it had been.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” you whispered, hand clamped to the stone railing of your balcony. “It’s your last chance to back out, Seonghwa.”

You could hear chuckling beside you, deeper than what you used to hear as a kid, though you dared not to look at the boy--the man beside you. “You know very well I can’t do that, Y/N. Would rather it be me that’s marrying you than some officious fool who knows nothing of your happiness.”

Sighing, you leaned over, letting your necklace dangling slightly in the air from around your neck. “Doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your own happiness.”

You felt two colder hands wrap around your exposed arms, feeling nice against the humid summer night. Seonghwa’s chin rested down on your shoulder, as he looked on the same scene you were. Soft breaths against your skin had it erupting with goosebumps, and you prayed your friend had not noticed.

He did, but didn’t pay much heed to it--as per usual. If only he would put a little more though into the strange quirks you developed over time--developed around him and him only--maybe he would have realised that you loved him.

More than a friend.

Both of you were too lost in the moment to realise someone had entered your room. The final person to complete your trio. Hongjoong, dressed in his crisp cream and gold uniform, overlooked the scene of you two.

He didn’t know why his heart hurt so badly.

Clearing his throat certainly got your attention, ripping away from each other in fear that someone had caught you two a night before the wedding doing something you shouldn’t have. Was nothing like that, but people--especially those in the castle--tended to blow things out of proportion.

Upon seeing that it was only Hongjoong, you two had released a breath of relief. “For heaven’s sake, Hongjoong! You almost gave me a heart attack,” you said. Seonghwa had his eyes averted to the polished marble floor, unable to meet his friend’s, cheeks flushed.

You thought it was because of embarrassment that someone had caught the two of you so late at night.

It wasn’t.

“I think it would be best for you to return to your room, Seonghwa. Before someone actually does come looking for you. Don’t want someone to see you too,” Hongjoong laughed, now an expert at making a light-hearted aura around him with years of practice.

“Alright then. Good night,” the nobleman smiled, finally bringing his sight up to see his best friend, heart beating feverishly when he saw the gentle smile pulling at his lips. Couldn’t tell it wasn’t real, not even as he left the room.

Now it was just you and Hongjoong.

“Come, let’s take a walk.”

For as long as you could remember, the boy had been attentive to your needs (despite his occasional silly behaviour), long before he was told that it was his job. You’d like to think of it as his sixth sense; knowing how you were, what you needed, when you needed him.

Maybe that’s why he could tell that you had pre-wedding jitters, feeling so sick you barely had the life in you--skin looking more dreary than usual. You needed time away, even for a few minutes, to take a breather from all the commotion.

The two of you walked in silence in the sleeping halls, like two thieves in the night, careful not to wake anyone up.

Hongjoong was aware you liked Seonghwa, but he knew it was unrequited. Why, he could not his finger on. You were prefect, a person who deserved all the love in the world--in the universe.

You knew better than to ask where he was taking you; after all, you trusted him. And maybe because you also knew him well enough to know where he was taking you.

To the secret garden.

“She’s withstood all the storms and droughts the earth has threatened her with. No wonder her bark is so thick and her roots so tough.” His voice was tender as the tips of his fingers brushed against the rough bark, the trunk appearing darker under the absence of the sun. “Gotten so big, hasn’t she?”

As if his actions were a trigger, your hand reached out to stroke the mulberry tree too. “She has...” Tender look in your expression had his breath caught in his throat. Your eyes shifted to meet his, which were already gazing at you. “Do you think she’ll bare fruit this time?”

“The frost has long passed, so not this year, I believe.” Hongjoong couldn’t bare the instant hollow look in your eyes, saddened to his core until the light reignited in your irises--almost glowing in the dark like the fireflies surrounding them.

“But she will next year, right?”

“And she will bare the tastiest fruit. Better than those sold on the markets,” he reassured, though he had an inkling of suspicion that this fruit would not come any time soon. Not after all these years. But that spark in your eyes was the only thing he could not bare to extinguish, so he kept his lips pursed.

“I was reading up on the symbolism of the mulberry trees across cultures,” you said, moving to sit on the wooden swing that hung from one of the stronger branches; the rope had rose vines growing around it, which Hongjoong made sure to maintain so it was safe for you whenever you came. This was your favourite spot, after all.

He raised a brow, moving behind you as his hands rested on your back momentarily before pushing you slightly. “Is that so? Mind telling me?” He already knew from his extensive research to look after the tree, but there was no harm in hearing it again.

Excitedly, you let a wide grin play against your lips as he gradually pushed you higher and higher. “So, in Xiqen, it’s seen as a link between Heaven and Earth, and in Mika, it represents a support, nurturing and self-sacrifice.”

“Is that all?”

“Uh...yes.”

“Strange... I could’ve sworn there was some significance of the mulberry tree in Zepheth.” He began to slow down when he saw your back slump over slightly. Probably because he knew that it wasn’t a happy story.

“There is,” you mumbled, eyes downcast to the evergreen grass rather than meet his soft chocolate ones. “Just... it’s very sad.”

He held your hands in his larger ones, both of you loving the warmth it provided despite the slight heat of the night. “Not all stories are happy. Need to hear the sad ones too, to truly understand the picture.”

Words were a bit cryptic, even for him. Regardless, you had continued. “In Zepheth, there were these two lovers who were forbidden to wed, so they secretly arranged to meet under the mulberry tree. However, they were found out, and killed under the tree, staining the white berries red... It symbolises star-crossed lover and the final union of death.”

The air seemed to be still, despite the rustling of the leaves and chirping of the hidden crickets. Hongjoong kneeled down, pressing a hand onto your cheek to soothe even the slightest bit the grief in your face. “Good thing the other two have nice symbols. Cancels the bad things out.”

Chuckling slightly, you rested your own hand on his, nuzzling into his palm as your eyes shut. Stark contrast between your skins, yours being softer than silk while his were calloused and rough. But it felt nice against the supple flesh of your cheek.

You both thought so.

But with the moon so high and hair beginning to stick to your necks from the humidity and heat, you thought it best to return. “Escort me to my chambers? After all, it is a very big day tomorrow and we both have to rise early for the final preparations.”

As if he needed reminding of that. “Very well then.”

Your servant wasn’t happy with the proceedings--not when he knew that Seonghwa’s eyes did not meet the passion you had in yours, despite your many years of friendship. But he had to agree with him on one thing.

Seonghwa was the best and safest choice you (and the kingdom) had in this moment of time.

So Hongjoong didn’t protest when you walked down the isle in the most breath-taking attire, adorned with pearls and jewels, and a gorgeous bouquet of green and white; gardenias, lily of the valley, earl mountbatten roses, freesia, and ivy--and most importantly, white mulberries.

He didn’t challenge when the vows were spoken and Seonghwa promised to love you and only you forever.

He didn’t object when the Priestess gave the crowd one last chance to speak or forever hold their peace before the deal was sealed with a kiss.

Despite his gut and every other fibre in his being screaming at him otherwise.

Another two decades passed, and now strands of white hairs were peeking through, but unlike before, much had changed. You were now a parent of three--triplets, conceived within the first few tries.

Yunho, San, and Wooyoung. The mulberries of your eyes.

You suppose that’s when the rose-tint on your married life began to fade. Though he was extremely affectionate in the beginning, Seonghwa never touched you like that again after the birth of your children. Though the three kids never really noticed it much as it was all they had known, you could see it clearly.

How he would spend more and more time in his office. How he would climb in bed and talk about your day, but doing nothing more. It was if you two had reverted back to friends--that very thought breaking your heart when you had loved him so dearly.

Felt as if he looked at your feelings as if it were a trinket in a shop before putting it back, not finding it suitable enough for him.

But for Seonghwa, that wasn’t the case at all.

He tried--he really did--to love you.

By now, time had made him wise enough to know of your compassion for him and he begged himself to return your feelings. Spent many nights while you were asleep praying to the entities residing in the Heavens, crying on the hard floor of the palace’s temple until his arms grew sore and his legs went numb.

But he could not look at any other. Seonghwa could not stop his heart knocking against his chest, his cheeks pooling with heat, whenever he saw Hongjoong smile, or laugh, or do the most menial of tasks.

Could not stop the thoughts of him being by his side rather than you--and it killed him to think that, especially when you have been nothing but kind and loving to the both of them--never giving your personal servant too much work or being too stubborn in wanting your husband’s affection. Instead of pressing too much, you worked on the kids and kingdom.

You were kind, selfless.

Maybe Seonghwa should have let someone else marry you. Maybe they could love you back for all those times he couldn’t.

But he supposes that the best thing out of this marriage was his children. Despite Yunho’s hyperactivity, San’s clinginess, and Wooyoung’s mischievousness, he loved the three to the moon and back.

Helped you in raising them over the last two decades into great people.

It was the only thing he couldn’t bring himself to regret.

That, and how it had given him the excuse to be closer with Hongjoong too, the two of them learning how to look after the triplets (one already proved to be a handful, but three was a nightmare) while you were unwell or busy with other business.

There were times where he glanced at his childhood friend, playing games with the young kids or feeding them or changing them, and had completely forgotten about you. All that swirled in his head was if this is what it would look like if Hongjoong and he had a family together.

Then Seonghwa would snap out of it a spilt second later, cold shame eating away at the warmth in his chest because how could he ever think of such a thing about the mother of his kids?

Meanwhile, Hongjoong--your intelligent and faithful servant--had figured this out too. Figured out the reason why he felt so sick to his stomach when he saw you be so loving towards a man who doesn’t love you back, and why said man could not reciprocate your feelings.

If Seonghwa felt guilty, then Hongjoong felt a million times worse.

Felt as if he was the reason you were in so much pain--and he could tell you were, because he was the one you came running to in the beginning, when your husband kept his wall up around you and you became so frustrated and upset that you spilled waterfalls of salty tears onto his jacket, mumbling words of pain and heartbreak that stayed within the walls of the secret garden.

It stayed safe there, as Seonghwa no longer visited.

Not even you had visited less, despite being consumed with your children and the work of the kingdom. The tree was a sign of your love for each other, it was your very first child.

Hongjoong, too, had stayed. Continued to care for it, to keep it company on his breaks, to talk about his problems since he certainly could not tell you or Seonghwa. His own tears often landed on the roots of the tree, nurturing it with his pain.

Perhaps that’s why the tree had not bore any mulberries, from the saltiness of the water or the anguish it carried.

But he kept whispering the same thing to you whenever you asked, that the mulberries would definitely come, and they would be tastiest you would ever have. Better than those from the markets.

Five more years had passed and you grew ill. Hid it well, so well that no one except the royal physician knew of your condition. Not even Hongjoong knew, so you took that as an achievement. Rarely anything got by him, especially when it came to you.

Dr Yeosang had looked at you with dreary eyes, putting his equipment away which had signalled the end of your appointment. “Anything?” you inquired, coughing into a blood-stained napkin.

“I’m afraid there is still no diagnosis. None of the symptoms match up to any known illnesses and it appears that it is not spread by people since everyone else in the palace is as fit as a fiddle.”

Your smile was small as you chuckled. “Everyone except me, it seems,” you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Yeosang simply sighed. “I believe it’s time. Tell your family before it gets even worse--which it has been doing since the first appointment. At least Hongjoong.”

“You know very well I can’t do that. We’re in the middle of a drought and there’s raids going on in the North--”

“Every kingdom faces those, and yours has already dealt with such situations in the past very well.”

You looked away, cheeks now starting to sink in from the lack of appetite. “I know,” you whispered, ”but I can’t bring myself to say it.”

He licked his lips in contemplation, understanding why you wouldn’t want to tell anyone. A monarch is as strong as the kingdom--any instability in the family will cause instability for the nation. And the same goes for a parent and their family.

“I suppose I can try to hide it a little longer... but a month is all I can do--from the rate your illness is progressing.”

Lips tightening in a thin line, you nodded. There was never going to be enough time. Would go greedy, wishing for a month, then another, then another. But your timer was non-negotiable.

So the first thing you did when you left the royal physicians was go see your sons. If there were anyone who needed your attention, they would be your boys.

Short on breath, you tried to travel swiftly through the hallways--bones, now weary with age and sickness, no longer moving the same way as you used to. As you made your way to the royal family’s private wing, you overheard wisps of conversation through a nearby door.

Slowing to a halt, you listened closer, recognising the voices but not seeming to put names to them--brain too muddled to think straight.

“--know.”

“You can’t do that, Seonghwa. Not to her.”

“I can’t force myself to stop caring about you, Hongjoong!”

Your heart stopped mid-beat.

“Keep your voice down!” There was a pause while the floorboards of Seonghwa’s private office creaked, most likely Hongjoong’s habit of pacing while he was thinking. “You need to. I care about you as a friend, but nothing more.”

“You think if I could, I would’ve done so already?” your husband’s voice was seething. “Heavens know how hard I have tried to love her, b-but I just can’t!”

“Well I can’t love you back, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

Another stretch of silence passed, and you could almost imagine the two glaring at each other as they normally did in a fight. “Because you love her. Am I correct?”

A soft sigh came from who you assumed was Hongjoong, quiet but still loud enough for your ears to capture (greatly timed to cover your own gasp at the revelation).

“I don’t know...”

“What do you mean by that?”

“...Nothing.”

“Hongjoong, you know you can tell me anything. Regardless of our positions before or after this conversation, we will always be friends.”

“This is better kept between me and the Heavens.” He sighed once more. “All you need to know is that we can’t be together because I don’t love you and I have my loyalty. End of discussion.”

Had it been anyone else, Seonghwa would’ve had them arrested for speaking that way to their king. But neither of you could ever so that to him. He was your rock, your old friend--his loyalty shining bright even after all these years of serving you.

Before Hongjoong could open the door, you had fled the scene, not wanted to be caught eavesdropping on such a private conversation--even if the topic had concerned you.

Just before entering the Princes’ linked chambers, you caught your breath, willing your pounding heart to stop beating so feverishly.

There was too much going on. Too much, and your brain can’t seem to wrap itself around it all.

“So that’s why,” you whispered, lacking breath in your lungs. “His heart belongs to another...” Then a fit of coughs burst once more and your hands scrambled to retrieve a fresh napkin tucked beneath your sleeve to catch the blood.

Upon hindsight, it was a bad idea to stop in front of your son’s private room, because your extreme coughing had caught his attention. Yunho’s confused eyes melted away to concern, especially after seeing the dark red liquid tainting the pure white cloth.

“Mother!”

His cry had attracted the attention of your other two sons, who swarmed around you as Yunho cradled his arms around you, guiding you to his bed.

San brushed the strands of hair that had escaped from your tight bun away from your face while Wooyoung rubbed your back in attempt to sooth your violent coughing. “What’s wrong, Mum?”

“We need to tell Papa!”

“We need Dr Yeosang--”

“He knows,” you tried to say, doing your breath to bring your breathing back to normal. “The doctor. He’s known... for a long time.”

“What do you mean ‘a long time’?” San asked, his hands clasped around yours, a desperate look in his eyes begging for an explanation. “What’s going on, Mama?”

Not right now. You were supposed to have a month extra. They weren’t supposed to find out so soon. “I...” you throat felt tight and dry, “I’m very unwell. The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong because he’s never seen anything like it before.”

“Then we get a new doctor!” Yunho piped in, voice raised and slightly frantic. You really didn’t need them panicking.

“If Yeosang doesn’t know, then no one will.”

“What about Dad?” Wooyoung asked. “Does he know? Uncle Hongjoong has to know, right? Uncle Hongjoong always kn--”

“Neither of them know. We must keep it that way. So you need to pretend that I’m healthy and well for just one more month. That’s all I ask for. One month.”

You looked between all your children, trying to memorise their faces because Heavens know how long you have left.

As promised, the boys kept your secret for as long as they could--caring and tending to you as much as they could without arousing suspicion from Hongjoong or Seonghwa.

But before your month was up, you had collapsed just after a dinner--slipping in and out of consciousness while your old friend carried you up to Yeosang’s office, the rest of your family in tow, beyond worried.

Yeosang later explained, when you were fully awake, that whatever illness you had was growing at a much faster rate than he anticipated, and you had a few weeks at most.

Now, you were bedridden in your chambers, limbs too heavy and painful to move, lungs feeling like they were being pressed down from the gravity and it got harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Not a day went by where your sons or husband visited you, and Hongjoong had rarely ever left your side. As strong as they all tried to be, their puffy crimson eyes and sniffling noses were all too obvious.

“Seonghwa? Hongjoong?” you said, voice faint and dry. “Could you go out... for a few minutes. I need to... talk to the boys.”

They exchanged glances, before following your quiet word. “What is it, Mama?” San said, crouched beside you as he held your hand once again.

Even as a man in his mid-twenties, your little baby still called you ‘Mama’ and refused to let go of his mother’s hand. Found you as the most comforting thing in the world.

“Remember... the mulberry tree? The one I showed you?”

“Yeah, Ma,” Wooyoung said leaning against the wall that faced you. Despite his playful and nonchalant nature, you knew he was the most emotional one out of the three. Which was why you were very concerned over his silence for the past few days until he finally spoke now.

“I want you three... to look after it once I’m gone.”

“You’re not going, Mother,” Yunho sniffled, tears in his eyes threatening to drop. He was the oldest (by a few minutes) and was still the most respectful. But even then, he was still a kind and soft-hearted boy, much like his brothers.

“But promise me... regardless. That you’ll look after her. And when she finally bares fruit...”

“It’ll be the tastiest fruit,” your sons recited in unison, eyes glossy with unshed tears, “better than any other on the markets.”

With the little strength you had left, you mustered a weak smile. “My good boys... You will become... fine kings one day. I have no doubt.” You let go of San’s hand, hand instantly being consumed by the cold from the lack of insulation and warm blood pumping through your veins. “Now... call in your Father and Uncle.”

And they did so, leaving the room to leave the three of you alone. “What is it, my dear?” Seonghwa caressed your cheek lovingly, but you both knew that it was more of a platonic gesture than a romantic one--more for you than it was for him.

“I know...about your love for Hongjoong.”

You could feel the tension in the air thicken to such a degree that you could slice it with the letter opener that resided on your bedside table. It was Hongjoong who spoke up. “Y/N, you need to know that we never--”

“Did anything... I know.” You look to him, that same weak smile plastering on your face. “Such a loyal friend. Never did deserve you, did I?”

He shook his head as he came down to hold your hand. “No--don’t say that. If anything, I didn’t deserve you as a friend.”

You chuckled softly, careful not to trigger another one of your coughing fits. “If I can’t say things like that... then neither can you. But I would like you both to do two final things for me.”

“Anything,” his voice was still strong, unwavering, but you knew Hongjoong long enough to see the stormy ocean behind his calm gaze, the turmoil he must be feeling right now from losing his closest and oldest friend.

“First thing is.. be happy,” you shifted your gaze over to your husband, “and you too. If you can’t with me... then at least with each other.”

For the first time, your servant let go of your hands, denying your request. “I can’t be happy without you.”

“Then learn to do so. After all, you have... the rest of your life.”

He couldn’t verbally agree to that, not when what he said was true. Not when his own heart lay in your possession--and would to until the day he passed as well. So Seonghwa took the painful step in asking what your second wish was.

You recalled the Zepheth’s symbol of your most beloved possession. Star-crossed lovers and the final union of death. Though the three of you were stuck in a sick triangle of unrequited love by the Heavens, it felt fitting for your story.

And perhaps, with your permanent presence, the fruit would finally grow.

“Bury me under the mulberry tree.”

Extra, alternative ending below If you’re not a fan of fantasy or torturous spirits or man-eating trees, just stop here.

Two young travellers searched around the ruins of a lost palace, greenery overflowing, filling every nook and cranny of the battered stone walls--a rather beautiful sight of Mother Nature reclaiming her lands.

“Where even are we, Mingi?” the shorter, more muscular one of the pair said, stumbling over vines and rubble as he followed the much taller man.

“Not where we’re meant to be, I think,” he quipped, looking at the architecture to find some clues of their whereabouts.

The other rolled his eyes. “This would’ve been a lot easier if you didn’t drop the map in the river.”

“Hey! In my defence, it was really windy and the rain made the ground slippery. Leave me alone, Jongho.”

“Not until you give me a damn map.”

Like the archaeology student he was, Mingi studied the tattered tapestry and engravings on the walls until it had hit him. “Holy mother of fresh, sweet hell.”

“What?”

Without answering his best friend’s question, the man too off running, as if he already knew the layout of the place. Jongho ran after him, screaming and almost tripping over the vegetation in the way of his heavy boots.

Once Mingi stopped, his friend held his knees, heaving to catch his breath. “What... the hell... was that for?”

Swivelling on his heel, the tall explorer had sparkles in his eyes. “This is it! The Lost Kingdom! The thing we’ve been looking for!”

Jongho’s head snapped up. “You mean you’ve been looking for? I was just dragged along by your antics as usual.” He narrowed his eyes when he finally saw where his friend took him. “A tree? You took me to see a goddamn TREE?!”

Mingi got closer the enormous mulberry tree, gazing at it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Not just any tree. It’s the Queen Y/N’s tree!”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Jongho sighed, feeling the rage burn within him like a furnace, “you took me to see a dead woman’s tree?”

“Yes, but--”

“WE ALMOST DIED, MINGI! TWICE!” He held up two fingers, expressing his point further. “AND ALL THAT FOR A GODDMAN TREE?!”

“The lore surrounding it was well worth the trip,” a voice said, the two boys’ head spinning to see a person dressed in old, fancy clothing, perched upon the swing--now completely covered with vines and moss. Both of them swore they hadn’t noticed them there. Yet, they brushed it off anyways, thinking that they just had silent movement.

“Who are you?” Mingi asked, head cocked to the side as he became familiar with the sight of them.

“The protector of this tree,” they replied. “Who are you?”

“Some travellers...sightseeing,” Jongho piped in, sceptical of this person who looked like they were in their twenties, just like them.

“You were talking about lore?” The older of the two inquired, already greatly invested in the whole place. “Are you familiar with it?”

“Why, I must be. After all, I look after her,” they said, lovingly stroking the trunk of the tree. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please!” Mingi sat down, like a child excited for story time despite knowing the book by-heart, while Jongho stayed stood up beside him.

“Well, once upon a time, there was a very strong and powerful Kingdom--”

“The Lost Kingdom!” the child-like man shot out, too giddy to hold back.

The person giggled, his antics reminding them of someone they used to know. “Yes, I believe that’s what you call it. Well, there were three children that lived here; one was of royalty, one of nobility, and the third was a servant--but they were the best of friends, despite their status.”

The muscular boy narrowed his eyes at the childish tone the person was using, not liking how it sounded--how it started to make him feel weary.

“They planted this tree,” they tapped the trunk with their hand, “right here, and nurtured it for as long as they could. As they grew older, the royal and nobleman got married and had children together, while the servant dedicated his life to helping them.”

Jongho sat down, feeling more dreary than normal, coughing a little, while Mingi did the same, not feeling so well either.

“They were all still close, regardless of personal disputes between them, but their love for each other began to weaken only once the tree remained barren of fruit. But they kept up hope, saying that it will the next year.”

The travellers had found it hard to breath, as if there was a pressure on their lungs, squeezing them flat.

“But then, the royal found out they were dying, so they asked to buried under the mulberry tree. In their mind, their body would give the tree the nutrients it needed to finally bare the mulberries they so desperately craved. But no fruit had bore, making the spirit of the royal restless.”

Jongho coughed violently, thick red liquid dribbling down his chin, looking over to Mingi who was hunched over in pain. "But... that’s a fruitless... mulberry tree.”

It appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as their brows furrowed, scowl pulling at their lips, the swing stopped swinging. “And who are you to say that?”

“Because I study... goddamn plants.”

Then it clicked in Mingi’s head--what was going on. “Jongho... shut up--” His chest squeezed harder, a yelp escaping his lips as he toppled to the side.

“Carrying on from that rude interruption,” the person glared at the younger of the two, who was now lying on his side, curled into the foetal position, “the nobleman and servant then died a while after, and were buried side-by-side with the royal.”

Overgrown roots of the tree began to soften, becoming more flexible like snakes as they began to slither their way to the two young boys.

“But even their bodies weren’t enough. So the royal’s spirit swore to use whatever they could to make the tree finally bare fruit.”

The roots wrapped around each boys ankle, spiralling up until it wrapped the two of them in a cocoon. And neither of them could do anything, too tired to yell or move around, succumbing to the sweet release of sleep.

Getting up off the swing, the person rested their forehead on the trunk of the tree.

“And it will be the tastiest fruit. Better than any other on the markets.”

A/N: If you didn’t get it, the tree not growing any fruit was a metaphor of unrequited love. I feel like I didn’t really explain that properly, but there you go.

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maraudereestauderelb · 3 years

Text

Pool Party

A Vince Neil smut One Shot

Prompt: Your parents are gone for the weekend and you decide to throw a pool party at their estate. Coming home after all those years brings back bad memories but a certain blond singer helps you overcome them...

Warning: Sexual acts

MASTERLIST

The music was blaring loudly over my parent's back lawn. Y/F/N had pulled me into the low end of the pool after pushing a cup filled with vodka-lemon into my hand. I was already feeling a bit tipsy as we started to sway our hips to the music, not a care in the world.

This party was a hit and it seemed like everyone was having the time of their lives. I made out another friend of mine in the crowd playing beer pong with a group of guys, who seemed to be more interested in her outfit than in the actual game. I shook my head amused and found my best guy friend at our outside bar flirting with the bar keeper we had hired. His name was Sanchez and he was from Spain and even I had to admit that he was hot.

Have fun Greg! I grinned but focused back on the music which had changed to a more up-beat song and I placed my arms on Y/F/N's shoulder so we could dance together hoping to get some attention from the guys around us. We were wearing nothing but our bikinis and I could feel pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head.

"Looks like we are attracting some guys over there." I told Y/F/N grinning and watched her head poke around gazing at our little audience until it stopped at a spot right behind me.

"Yeah. Hey, you mind if I just go over there and talk to Nik for a moment. Have barely seen him all night." I turned my head and followed her gaze. Nikki was sitting on one of the deckchairs in black jeans and leather jacket. This dude hasn't even taken off his sunglasses. "Has no one told him that this was a pool party?" I asked my best friend with a grin.

She just shook her head but I could see a little amused smile on her lips: "I might have mentioned it, but you know him. Maybe I get him to change. Be right back."

And with that she waded through the water. I just shrugged and emptied my cup before getting out of the water to refill it again.

It was weird being back home like that. I knew every corner of this house and still, standing here now as this totally new person - compared to my sixteen year old self - it just felt foreign. Like a place I have rented for a party but isn't actually my home.

It never did feel like home, to be honest. More like a prison with golden bars that locked you in, but all everyone always seemed to notice was the gold, not the bars.

I sighed and took another sip to get rid of my melancholy thoughts when from the corner of my right eye I saw the floodlights to the garage light up. Confused that anyone of the guests would be in that area, I grabbed my boho robe which was draped over a bar stool and walked down the little path towards the driveway.

Taking the last turn around the corner I could see one of my dad's Rolls Royce parked in front of the garage and I almost had a little heart attack thinking my parents might have come back home earlier from their summer vacation, when I saw a blonde mop of hair examining the vehicle.

"Vince? What are you doing there?" He almost hit his head on the side mirror, when he heard my voice, shocked that he's been caught.

"I...uhm I was just looking..." His one hand was brushing through his hair nervously while he pointed back at the car. "It's really...I mean man, it's a 1982 Silver Spirit...it's so new, this baby must have cost a fortune!" I had to smile a bit, delighted at his enthusiasm. My dad does always drive one of the best and latest cars, he must have inherited that hobby from my grandfather.

"Yeah, must be pretty new. Actually I haven't seen it before. Usually my dad has his Bentley out. It's probably in the garage." I said nonchalantly, like it was no big deal and leaned against the car, watching Vince's eyes grow big. It was kinda cute how excited he got over cars. "Y-Your dad has a Bentley?" He stuttered and his gaze dropped to the gararge longingly. Again I had to smile to myself, watching Vince stand in the driveway in nothing but his swim shorts, gazing at the garage like a little kid at a toy store.

"You know, if you want...I mean only if you really have the time - you might miss a few hot bitches while you're gone - but if you want ...I can show you the rest of the cars." His head turned back in my direction so fast, for a moment I thought he could have snapped it and he gave me a look like I have told a child it was christmas and his birthday on the same day. "The rest of the cars?", he said with a thin voice, probably trying to hold back an unmanly squeal. This time I couldn't hide the smile and shrugged. "Sure, if we both hadn't had so much alcohol in our blood, I would have even let you drive one." I suggested and walked to the pin pad to open the garage doors. A strange sound left Vince's throat, which sounded like he was holding back an excited scream and I turned around to him and grinned: "Please don't faint." And with a push of the buttons the garage door lifted from the floor.

"What the fuck?!", Vince exhaled and I was afraid his eyes might pop out. We stepped into the hall and I closed the doors again, hoping we wouldn't attract more people who wanted to see the cars.

"Yep, it's a tic he got from my grandpa and surprisingly my dad's also into racing cars. Well watching them..." I rolled my eyes. "The worst thing about those cars is, if I didn't care so much about their value I definitely would have slashed a few holes in some tires." A gasp from Vince signalled me that this wasn't the right answer. "Well, not for the cars' sake." I hit a few swtiches and the hall lit up.

"If you wanna get into a car", I informed him while he roamed around the at least half a dozen vehicles, "just tell me, I got the keys.", pointing at a display cabinet on the wall behind me.

"Dude, is that a 1979 manufactored 450SL Mercedes-Benz?" Vince said excited running to a red convertible Mercedes at the end of the hall. I followed him.

"Yeah, that one is my favourite. That's also...shame on me...the only car I know the exact labelling of. The others in here I'm glad I can name the brand. Dad said I was supposed to get it after I graduated college. Well, you probably know how much my parents love me at the moment, so that went down the toilet hole."

"That's your car?!" Vince was still examining every detail of it. "Was." I corrected him and he finally looked up into my face.

"Oh, your dad sounds like a major asshole by the way."

I shrugged and followed him to the next car. "Sadly, I can't pick where I came from. But enough about me. So, which one is your favourite?"

"The Porsche."

I laughed: "Of course, the porsche."

"Hey, you said I can look at them from the inside." "Yes?"

"Which one is your dad's favourite car?"

"The Roll Royce in the right corner over there. Why?" I replied confused at the sudden change of topic. For the first time I realized how close Vince and I were, leaning against the Mercedes. His exciting demeanor was replaced by a smirk. "Maybe we can't slash holes in those pretty tires, but maybe this is just as good." Before I could ask, Vince had grabbed my waist and pulled me against his tanned chest when our lips collided. I had to moan at the sudden impact and the alcohol, which was already running through my system, clouded my mind. Why was it suddenly so hot in here? And gosh, those lips were soft. Before I could properly comprehend everything, my hands got caught in his hair and I pulled him down deepening the kiss. Vince grabbed my thighs and pick me up pushing my back against the vehicle, which squeaked a bit at the impact.

"Vince..." I mumbled with a satisfied sigh as his lips traced a path down my neck. I still couldn't put his words and his actions together, but his mouth was just too good to stop him.

"Let's have some fun in your dad's favourite car." It finally clicked in my brain and I moved my head to make him look up at me. He first thought my sudden move was a way of disagreeing with his idea and he already had his next words formed in his mouth: "Look I know this-" but he stopped midsentence when he saw my smirk.

"Can I suck you off?" I had no clue where my sudden bluntness was coming from, but I loved Vince's physical reaction to it, feeling the small thrust of his hips and a rather bigger problem poking into my ass. "In the car?"

"Gosh, fuck! You can't just straight forward say such words to a man." I shrugged and put a hand under his chin only to kiss him again.

He started carrying me towards the black car when I stopped him: "Wait. Need to get the keys."

Vince let me back down on my feet and I rushed to the cabinet grabbing the right key.

"Someone's really eager.", he laughed as I reached for his hand and pulled him along. In seconds the driver's door was opened and I pushed Vince into the seat, before straddling his legs. "Fuck, this is hot." His hands grabbed my ass cheeks grinding me down onto his hips. I just let my pelvis rock against his while I looked into his eyes with a grin on my lips.

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this!"

"Me, or in your dad's car?" Vince asked with a smirk.

"Both." I answered and leaned down to kiss him again. With my right hand I was searching for a certain lever and as I found it the seat slid backwards, leaving enough space in the foot compartment for me to kneel in.

I interrupted the kiss and let my lips trail down his neck to his chest, where I kissed my way down over his navel until I reached the waistband of his shorts.

Kneeling between Vince's legs, I let my hands brush over the inside of his thighs, staying

just inches away from his little problem. I could hear him groan and it sent a tender prickle straight to my core.

Without thinking more about it I untied his shorts and let my hand wonder inside to pull out his hard dick. Fuck he was thick. I thought and swallowed hard before opening my mouth and giving his head a tentative first lick. It was already covered in precume and my lips sucked in his head, while my tongue swirled around it. My right hand was still holding the shaft until I decided to swallow him down to the base. His thickness almost made me gag and I felt tears forming in my eyes, when I suddenly heard a deep moan: "Oh, fuck! Fuck! Yes, just like that! Take it all babe!" And then his hands were in my hair and I let him hold my head in place. God, this was hot. I was trying to breathe through my nose but I couldn't keep the moan from escaping my lips, vibrating around his dick. "Yes, fuck!" His hips began to thrust up and his hands pulled my hair back and forth while he kept fucking my mouth. I could feel saliva escape the corner of my lips, but I didn't care, I was too focused on giving him a good blowjob. I slowly opened my eyes, still letting him fuck me and my gaze moved up to look at him. He had his head back in his neck and his eyes closed in ecstasy, but then he groaned: "Fuck, Y/N...I'm gonna cum!" And his head dropped forward and he looked straight into my eyes. "Gosh, fuck- you're so... hot!"

And then I could suddenly feel my mouth filling with his cum, running down my throat and I almost forgot to swallow. His dick slipped out of my mouth and I licked my lips clean with a grin. "That was fun!" I said, too satisfied about the thought that I gave a blowjob in my dad's car. If he knew. My grin grew bigger and I climbed back onto Vince's lap, who was still trying to catch his breath. "Fuck, you're amazing." He mumbled, still dazed from his orgasm. Then he suddenly wrapped his arms back around me and kissed me hungrily. And all I could do was

claw my fingers into his hair, giving myself into this hot kiss, as cold shivers ran down my spine. My body definitely wasn't done yet and it let Vince know by slowly moving its pelvis down onto his hips.

"Pleasetouch me." I begged against his lips and hid my face in the crack of his neck to muffle my moans, as I desperately wanted to feel some release between my legs. This has turned me on more than I would like to admit. But having Vince almost naked underneath me in one of my parent's cars, felt so exhilarated I couldn't stop moving.

Vince's hands reached under my robe and he tried to pull it off my shoulders.

"You're wearing way too much...", he whispered with a hoarse voice into my ear and I helped him get rid of my it. Then his fingers undid my bikini top in seconds and threw it onto the passenger seat. I moaned into his ear as he grabbed my naked breats, massaging them. My heart was beating so fast and all I could think of was feeling this sweet release while my hips rocked against his, trying to find enough friction. "Let's move this to the backseat, princess. So I can pay you back." He let go of my breats and grabbed my thighs again getting out of the car. I could hear him open a door and then I felt leather under my back as he pushed me into the cushions of the backseat. "Much better. Now, let me get rid of that" he hooked his two index fingers into my panties and pulled them down, "and then I wanna hear you scream, princess."

Before I was even able to react, Vince had disappeared between my legs and a second later his lips were sucking hard at my clit. "Fuck...Vince...fuck!" My head slammed back into the leather cushions and he had to grab my thighs to hold me still. Thousands of elictric shocks were running through my body straight to my core and my hips started rocking aginst his tongue. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This felt so good. My hands rushed to his blonde mop of a hair to hold him in place. I could feel how wet I was getting and Vince just kept sucking my clit when suddenly two fingers entered my core at once. "Oh god! Fuck..." I couldn't hold back my voice any longer as his fingers fucked me relentlessly. "Please...please don't stop..." I was so close and my mind wasn't able to think straight anymore, when out of nowhere a third finger entered me. "Oh fuck Vince!" And then I came so hard, my entire body started shaking. I lost control of it and all I was able to do was ride it out until my muscles gave out. I had no idea how Vince had been able able to breathe, the way I had been fucking his face, but moments later he crawled up from between my legs and I slowly opened my eyes, only to be met with the same enthusiastic grin I had given him after the blowjob.

"You good?"

"Yeah...", I said, still trying to catch my breath.

Suddenly he kissed me again and for a while we were just making out heavenly, my fingers clawed into his back, probably leaving red streams. Until he interrupted the kiss and looked back down at me: "And? Better than slashing holes in those pretty tires?"

I grinned satisfied: "Yes..."

"Anytime, babe." He winked and got up. I followed him and grabbed my bathing suit, putting it back on, followed by my robe. "We should go back to the party." I said blushing. "Not that someone is missing us."

"Afraid what they might think if you show up with me?" He joked but all I could do was blush harder. I couldn't tell him, how right he was. Even though I can't deny that my core is still shaken from that orgasm. Gosh, how many girls he had probably done that with already. I shook my head, before trying to fix my hair.

"No, afraid that your friends might have lit my pool on fire." I said with a grin and locked the car doors.

"Hm, there's even a small possibility..."

"Vince!" I exaggerated a shocked voice and then smiled, playfully punching him into his arm. "That's not funny!"

"A little bit!" He grabbed the keys and walked to the display.

"Do you know exactly how many keys are in there?"

"Don't even think about stealing one!"

#vince neil #smut #vince neil smut #vince neil x reader #motley crue #mötley crüe #daniel webber #vince neil imagine

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

with this unruly heart of mine

in which we all wish our parents reacted the same way as Alcina does when one of her daughters comes out to her

title is from Unruly Hearts from The Prom because it fit

-----------------------------

MERCUTIO

If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in. A visor for a visor. What care I What curious eye doth cote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.

Alcina read that line over and over again, but she still had no idea what the hell any of it really meant. She sighed and leaned back into the cushions of her seat. If she kept getting caught up on the literary meaning of every other paragraph then she would never finish this damned book.

She picked up the teacup sitting on the stand beside her chair and took a long sip. The tea was of sweet cinnamon on her tongue. It left a much better taste in her mouth than the rather gross relationship between Romeo and Juliet in this book. If the short amount of time the two knew each other wasn’t bad enough, the age gap made her teeth bare and nose wrinkle in disgust. What the hell was this William Shakespeare guy thinking when he wrote this?

The soft sound of bare feet padding against hardwood brought her back to the surface of complete awareness, her focus shifting away from the book and to the late-night arrival watching nearby.

A certain fly child stood, arm on the doorway. Her hair was shaggy from seemingly just waking up--or maybe she hadn’t slept at all in the first place. Unruly blonde locks were sticking up in various directions around her head, framing her face like an adolescent lion’s mane. The nightgown she wore was a size too big and drowning her thin frame.

The light from the fireplace made her golden-amber eyes look hollow.

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear?”

“May I sit with you?”

“Of course.”

Slower than she’d ever seen her move before, Bela inched her way onto the cushioned chair beside Alcina’s. She pulled her knees up her chest, bare toes poking over the edge of the seat, and Alcina regarded them with a scrunch of her nose.

“What have I told you about going around the castle barefoot?” Alcina chided gently.

Bela didn’t look away from the flickering fire in the fireplace. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

Something was bothering her.

Bela was a rather fickle little thing. Some days, she wanted to tell Alcina everything, every little fact of the new knowledge she had obtained from her books, all the small details of her latest stories or ideas. Other days, she put up walls and gave vague answers to questions prodded into her sensitive skin, curling into herself like a frightened snail afraid of being interrogated. This seemed to be something of the latter, and Alcina made a mental note to tread lightly to avoid upsetting her daughter.

“I don’t understand this at all,” Alcina said, waggling the book in her hands, trying to make small talk with her distressed child. She didn’t want to pry and further put Bela on edge more than she clearly was, but she couldn’t not do something about her bitter mood. What kind of mother would she be if she didn’t at least attempt to help with her kids’ problems?

“I can hardly make heads or tails of anything they’re saying,” she continued, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick.

Bela raised her head from her knees slightly. “What book is it?”

“Romeo and Juliet.”

There was a morbid snort. “How coincidental…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Bela shook her head. “Lemme see. What part are you at?”

Alina pointed out the current line she had reread at least five times over without being able to discern the Shakespearean into modern-day language. Bela, however, looked it over once, scanned the other pieces of dialogue for context, nodded, then explained, “In this scene, Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio are sneaking into a party thrown by the Capulets by wearing masks to disguise themselves. Romeo is upset over Juliet and says he isn’t going to dance. Mercutio then teases him over this and turns all of Romeo’s words into gratuitous sexual metaphors to poke fun at him. Mercutio ends up going on this whole rant about Queen Mab of the fairies, who visits people in their dreams until Romeo and Benvolio cut in to get things back on track. Romeo also kinda foreshadows the entire play at one point. See? Right here: ‘I fear too early, for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night’s revels, and expire the term Of a despisèd life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death.’ I do believe that is hinting at his eventual fate of death.”

Alcina blinked at her for a moment before smiling fondly and rubbing her head. “Such a smart girl,” she cooed. “I could have never gotten that out of this .”

Bela smiled, but then it quickly disappeared, and she leaned back into her chair, curling up and watching the fire once again.

Now Alcina was really concerned. Bela was never one to let go of praise and affection so easily. Usually, she savored it a bit longer before moving onto something else, but here she was, brushing off Alcina’s words and touch as though they were nothing.

Something was very, very wrong.

However, before she had the chance to take the risk and attempt to ask questions, Bela spoke up.

“Have you ever been in love, Mother?”

Surprised, Alcina asked, “And what brought this up?”

Bela shrugged, not making eye contact. She kept looking at the fire as though she wanted to throw herself into it. Her voice was small, so small. “Just curious.”

“I see,” Alcina nodded. She looked up, thinking for a moment as she wracked her brain of the memories of her past life. “I have been in love before. Many times, actually.”

Bela gave her a curious look, finally pulling her gaze from the flames. “Really?”

“Indeed,” Alcina confirmed. “Though, I do believe that just comes with growing up. You gain lovers, you lose lovers. Some were real, some were fantasies I made up. Some lasted a few days, some a few months, some a few years.” She took a sip of her tea again. “None of them really mattered in the end, though. Clearly.” Another sip.

Bela nodded faintly. “Okay.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Alcina decided to ask.

Strangely, Bela went rigid. Her claws clenched around the sides of her calves as she stared forward with pupils that were constricted into pinpricks. Sweat beaded along the golden crown of her head.

“I-I-- umm…”

Alcina furrowed her eyebrows in worry. She closed Romeo and Juliet with a bookmark to mark her page, then set a hand on Bela’s back. Her daughter was trembling.

“Bela?” Alcina said, keeping her voice soothing and low to avoid setting off the poor girl even further. “Is everything alright? You don’t look well.”

“Yes, yes,” Bela answered her, much too quickly for it to be convincing. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Before Alcina could prod further, Bela shot up to her feet. She began to chew on one of her claws, flexing her free hand at her side in visible agitation. Pieces of her skin broke off into flies and buzzed around her head madly. She seemed to be dissociating in panic.

“Bela,” Alcina rose to her feet slowly, not wanting to accidentally frighten her daughter. “Bela, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bela said, even when she was so obviously far from fine. Her chest was beginning to heave.

“Darling,” Alcina said, and that seemed to get Bela to crack a bit.

With a tight whimper, Bela shook her head. “Hard-- hard to breathe--”

Instantly, Alcina loosely took Bela by the arms and lowered her to the ground. In the firelight, she could see the pallor of her daughter’s increasing panic as it morphed into a complete attack on her anxiety. Bela grabbed her wrists with her claws dug in for desperate grounding, and Alcina let her, even when it stung her skin. Her comfort was far from important in that moment.

“Alright, honey,” Alcina said. “We’re going to do the thing we’ve been practicing, alright? Do you think you can do it?”

Wordlessly, Bela nodded.

“That’s my strong girl,” Alcina said. “Alright, give me five things you can see.”

“Y-you,” Bela stammered. The words shook when they left her lips. “Your hair’s kinda bushy.”

Alcina rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. “Thank you for pointing that out, Bela.”

Bela’s fight instantly gave in at that and she hunched her shoulders in, looking ashamed. Quick to correct herself, Alcina lifted her chin so they could make eye contact.

“I was only teasing you, honey,” Alcina said. “Keep going.”

Bela nodded. “The fire; it’s really pretty. Your-- your, umm, chair; it looks soft. The book; not the best of Shakespeare’s works. And, ah-- the teacup; it has doves on it.”

“Very good,” Alcina praised. “Four things you can feel.”

“The fire’s-- the fire’s warmth. My heart in-- my heart in my throat. The floor under me; I should have worn socks.”

“I told you,” Alcina cut in playfully.

Bela swallowed thickly. “A-and, umm-- and my anxiety. It’s like a Lycan in my chest.”

Alcina frowned at that but quickly wiped it off her face for now. She stroked Bela’s cheek, gaining a spark of hope when Bela leaned into her hand.

“I feel you, too,” Bela said.

“You only needed to name five, little moth,” Alcina said, bopping her on the nose.

Bela just shrugged.

“But you’re doing so well. Can you give me three things you can hear?”

“My heartbeat in my ears; it sounds like thunder. I don’t like thunder. Umm-- the fire crackling; I like that. And-- and a raven outside. I think that’s Merlin. His cawing is kinda raspier than the other birds’. I think he may have hurt his throat at some point.”

A small smile grew onto Alcina’s lips. She continued caressing Bela’s cheek as she talked to her. “Now two things you can smell.”

“Fear,” Bela said almost instantly. Her nose twitched. “I smell fear.”

Alcina could smell it, too. The thickened dread wafting off of her shaken daughter was acrid, bitter, and unsettling.

“Umm--” Bela’s claws fidgeted, clicking against each other softly. “And your tea. Smells like cinnamon. Cinnamon makes me sneeze.”

“One more. One thing you can taste.”

“Fear.”

“Fear?” Alcina echoed, one eyebrow raised. “Again?”

“Yes.”

“What does fear taste like?”

Bela stared down at her claws, which she splayed open before herself. “It-- it has a slightly dull metallic taste that’s mixed with urea, I think. Sometimes it tastes like popping a bloody, pus-filled blister in your mouth and squeezing every drop out with your teeth and savoring it on your tongue. Sucking the wound clean and swallowing it down.” She clenched her fists. “But it doesn’t get clean. It doesn’t dry out. The blister just keeps oozing and oozing until all the discharge comes pouring out of your mouth, but even then it doesn’t stop. Because you can’t force it all down. You can’t just swallow and think it’s done. That’s not how anxiety works. It keeps coming, even when you thought it was gone, and it leaves behind this awful flavor of bitter bile. It’s acidic, too, you know? It melts your chest and stomach and makes you feel like you’re sinking in your own skin.” She looked up at Alcina, and her eyes were shiny and blank. “I taste fear, Mother.”

There was silence between them for just a moment. Bela wasn’t looking at Alcina anymore; she seemed to think the floor was very interesting at that moment. Alcina was still considering her daughter’s dark words, replaying them over and over again until the subtle taste of sour gall spread across her tongue. She swallowed it down and winced when it drooled over the back of her throat like rancid molasses.

“You did it, baby,” Alcina finally said, smiling despite her worry, despite the flavor of fear in her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

Bela just nodded. Though she was no longer having a panic attack, she didn’t seem any less upset. Alcina considered letting it go, especially after just having calmed her down, but if something was bothering her daughter so much that she couldn’t breathe when she thought about it too hard, she knew she couldn’t just leave it be. It could escalate into something much, much worse, and she knew damn well that Bela was willing to go to such extremes, if her explanation of fear and the way she kept looking at the fire wasn’t enough proof of that.

“Now,” Alcina saw Bela tense, but she plunged anyway. “I need you to tell me what’s bothering you so I can help.”

Bela shook her head with a strangled whimper. “I can’t tell you.”

“Bela, I’m your mother. You can tell me anything.”

“You’ll hate me.”

“I won’t hate you.”

Bela was quiet. Then, slowly, she dragged her gaze up to Alcina. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, Bela. I would never hate you.”

Bela nodded. “Okay.” Her claws clenched into fists against the floorboards, knuckles shaking and turning white. She took several deep breaths before forcing out, “I-- I don’t-- I don’t like people like that. Like how I’m supposed to.”

Silence.

Tears flowed freely from Bela’s eyes and she choked on a sob. Her head hung in shame as her entire body quaked. The poor girl looked terrified, and the sight hit Alcina right in the heart--though she didn’t quite get it.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said.

“No, no-- you don’t understand,” Bela’s breath was coming out thin and raspy again. She sat up straight, claws now knotted in her nightgown, tensing and pulling. “I don’t-- I don’t like people, Mama. The way other people do. The way everyone does. I’ve-- I’ve tried, but--” She cut herself off with a whimper, tears pouring down her cheeks.

“What do you mean?” Alcina asked. Trying to discern Bela’s vague words was like trying to discern Shakespearean. “Do you think you can explain it to me, hun? Like you did with the book and the fear. I want to help you.”

Bela sniffled, then nodded. “I-- I, umm-- I don’t feel anything towards people. Like-- like that. Romantically. And sexually.”

Finally, it dawned on Alcina.

“When I read those cheesy romance books Daniela likes, I don’t get the characters’ feelings at all. Just the thought of being in a relationship like that makes me so uncomfortable and I don’t know why, and that scares me, Mama.” Bela continued, her anguish oozing into every word she spoke. “I don’t like the thought of being tied down to someone like that, but it still feels like something has been stolen from me. That promise of a future with true love and marriage and a fairy tale ending that Daniela always talks about is gone, even though I still want it. Or, at least, I think I want it. I don’t know what I want.” She sniffled, looking miserable. “It’s the same for sexual stuff. When I come to scenes with sex in them in books, it makes my skin feel all weird, like severed hands are crawling all over my body. I get embarrassed and awkward and uneasy, and I don’t understand that, either. It just makes me feel so sick to my stomach.”

There was a pause. Bela was taking several shallow breaths and digging her claws into her legs, so Alcina reached out and took one of her hands, stroking her knuckles with her thumbs.

“Breathe, baby,” Alcina murmured. “Breathe.”

“I’ve-- I’ve tried to force myself to be like everyone else before,” Bela said unexpectedly.

Taken aback, Alcina said, “What?”

Bela swallowed thickly. “With-- with a maiden. You know how I am with them- too nice, too polite. I befriended one of them. We were kinda close. After a while, she started making moves on me. I knew what she wanted for so long, but I kept avoiding it because I was uncomfortable or scared. But then I had this revelation: maybe if I did this with her, I would finally feel something! I would be like everyone else! So I did. With her. And I didn’t like it.”

“Bela…”

“It hurt,” Bela whispered. “Like I was being scraped raw. Or my body was being turned inside out. I felt so sick. Humiliatingly, I started crying during it, but I don’t think she noticed. If she did, she didn’t stop. Not until she was finished. When she was, I threw up after she left. I was so sore.” Alcina squeezed her hand, and she sucked in a sharp breath, “But-- but I had to have liked it! I got, umm--” Her cheeks began to turn red with embarrassment, though Alcina didn’t blame her. Having to explain your sex life to your mother would be awkward for anyone. “I got…wet. And-- and that happens when you’re aroused! So-- so I do like sexual stuff!”

“Oh, sweetie…” Alcina sighed sadly.

Bela hunched her shoulders in. “R-right?”

“Honey, ‘getting wet’ doesn’t always mean you’re aroused,” Alcina said gently. “Simply viewing something erotic, like a naked woman, for example, could trigger this bodily response. It’s also a way for the vagina to lubricate itself to help dull the pain of penetration. You can be in a sexual situation and be wet, but not want to have sex. That’s completely normal and one hundred percent okay.” She lifted her hands to cup Bela’s cheeks. “Wetness is not an acceptable body language for consent. Who were you trying to convince: the maiden or yourself?”

Bela stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide and damp, breath hitched in the back of her throat. Then, she began shaking her head, pulling her hair, and weeping, “No, no-- I wanted it, I wanted it-- I know I did. I’m normal, I’m normal--”

It was truly heartbreaking to see her child in such a way. Bela seemed downright devastated over her own sexuality, to the point where she thought she was disgusting and unnatural for something that was actually completely normal.

Taking her daughter’s hands to keep her from hurting herself, Alcina went to say something, but Bela cut her off, getting to the words first.

“What’s wrong with me?!” Bela cried. “Why-- why am I like this, Mama? Am I broken? Am I heartless? I-- I love you and Cassandra and Daniela! I love Uncle Karl and Uncle Moreau and Auntie Donna and Angie and the Duke! I love reading and animals and writing, but-- but when I-- when I try to-- when it comes to sex and romance, I--” She finally gave up and sobbed.

“Oh, Bela,” Alcina said sadly. “Oh, my poor, sweet girl…” She pulled Bela into her lap and held her close, rocking her back and forth to help comfort her. Her fingers gently ran through Bela’s messy hair. “Shh, shh… You aren’t broken or heartless, sweetheart. This is an okay thing to feel.”

“You-- you don’t think I’m wrong?”

Alcina’s heart twisted at the way Bela looked up at her to say that, her eyes holding so much sadness and pain. She tucked her daughter’s head back under her chin and tightened the embrace.

“Absolutely not. Do you think you are?”

Bela answered in a strangled whimper. Alcina couldn’t help but wonder what put such a thought in her daughter’s brain--though, this was Bela she was dealing with. her anxiety was a wild, bestial thing that made her worry about the most obscene things.

“Did you really think this would change anything?” Alcina asked. “That I could ever possibly love you any less?”

Bela shrugged weakly.

“I-I just…”

That deep shame from before seemed to return and Bela’s head dipped. Alcina felt like she was going to try and pull away, so she tightened the embrace and used one hand to lift the girl’s chin.

“Hey, hey,” Alcina murmured, brushing away fresh tears on Bela’s cheeks. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with this, sweetie. There’s nothing wrong with you, either. And if anyone says otherwise, tell me. I’ll eviscerate them.”

That got a tiny, watery giggle out of Bela.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Alcina went on. “Sex and romantic relationships… They aren’t for everyone. And that’s okay. It certainly doesn’t make you broken or heartless.”

“B-but--”

“Hun, look at me. Do I really look like someone who will judge you for being this way?”

Bela shrugged a little. Her little body seemed to have exhausted itself of all its efforts to argue.

Alcina rocked her gently, stroking her hair the way she knew she liked it. “How about I explain something to you, hm?”

Bela looked up at her blearily.

“Your love may not be arousing or romantic, but you want to know what it is like?”

“What?” Bela asked softly.

“Your love is warm and fuzzy, like being wrapped in a blanket during a blizzard. It’s safe and reassuring. Your love is security and shelter. Your love is noticing all the little details, like my bushy hair because it’s late at night or your Uncle Karl’s finger twitching because he’s nervous at the meetings with Mother Miranda but is trying to hide it or Cassandra’s leg bouncing because she’s full of pent up, restless energy. Your love is knowing what makes each of us tick and doing everything in your power to make us feel better when we’re upset. Your love is like the first flower showing up in the snow as winter melts away and the beginning flickers of a tender flame and the gentle fluttering of bird wings.” Alcina let out a soft laugh. “I’m nowhere near as good at details as you are, my darling. But, most importantly, your love is normal and natural and what makes you you. And you shouldn’t have to try and change that for anyone, no matter what.”

Bela stared up at her in silenced awe, tears trickling down her cheeks. Alcina squeezed her reassuringly.

“I want you to know that I’ll always support you, okay?” Alcina said. “I’m always going to be here for you.”

Bela nodded, hiccuping softly. “Thank you, Mama,” she whispered through tiny whimpers. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bela,” Alcina said. She kissed the top of Bela’s head and purred to her softly. “My perfect, perfect girl.”

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #resident evil fanfic #dimitrescu family #with this unruly heart of mine

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

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What if...? Part 10a

Yes, it is 10a, because I said it would be 10 parts and not 11, so you will be getting the epilogue as 10b. HAH! ...Don’t look at me. T-T

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10a

For the first five hours after leaving the Covert, Davarax is out of it. Everyone draws a sigh of relief when his eyes open and he’s back with them again.

“Where are we going?” Din asks, frowning at the coordinates.

Davarax manages a faint smile, still sedated by pain. “Someone who can help us.” He then makes a face and presses his hand gently to the pressure bandage on his neck. “We just have to find her.”

Dulsissia realizes she doesn’t care where they go as long as that means they can get some medical supplies and patch him up properly. “Take it easy.” She uses her fingers to comb the dark locks of his hair back from his sweaty forehead. “We’ll find this person. Leave it to us.”

It takes them two days, but at least by then Davarax is able to stand up and walk a little, so when they land on some strange planet and find themselves surrounded by unfamiliar Mandalorians, he is the first to walk off the Razor Crest, hands in the air, and greets the leader. “Lady Kryze.”

He had warned them that these were Mandalorians who lived by a different Creed. Dulsissia and the children had all been surprised to hear there were Tribes out there with other rules than theirs, but mostly they are unsettled by Davarax telling them to keep Paz and Raga’s last names a secret...

A Mandalorian steps forward, removes their helmet and reveals red hair and suspicious eyes. “Davarax? Is that you?”

Exhaling a faint laugh, Davarax lowers his arms and sways a little, which makes Dulsissia and Paz dart over to grab an arm each to support him. “It’s me.”

The one called Kryze clicks her tongue and tilts her head. “I thought you guys weren’t allowed to remove your helmets?”

“We’re not.” Davarax confirms, still with a weak smile.

Another unfamiliar Mandalorian steps forward and crosses their arms. “You’re cuter than I thought.” It doesn’t sound like she means as a compliment.

Davarax nods with amusement. “Thanks.”

“Why are you here? What do you want?” Kryze cuts in.

“Safety.” Davarax replies. “I need a place to stay for a while.”

The woman doesn’t blink. “And what do I get?”

“Me.” Davarax states. “One standard year, I’ll work for you.”

Something about the woman’s eyes makes Dulsissia tense up. This Kryze person looks a little too pleased at that. A gentle, quizzical squeeze of Davarax’ arm gets no response. He just keeps locking eyes with the other Mandalorian.

Kryze is the one to break the staring contest and looks over at Dulsissia. “And this one? She’s not a Mandalorian.”

“Ner riduur.” Davarax replies.

The Mandalorian who had commented on his looks snorts a loud, surprised laugh. “You? You got married? You?”

“I fell in love.”

Dulsissia feels her face burn. Him once again confessing his feelings for her so openly makes her knees weak, but she also feels a little bad that he has to lie for her; they aren’t married yet. She fully intends to marry this man, but she prefers him to be conscious under the ceremony and Davarax has been out cold for most of the two days on the ship.

“And these are your children?” Kryze shifts her attention to Paz, then the others waiting, huddled together, on the Razor Crest’s ramp.

“Yes.” Davarax confirms without hesitation.

Kryze nods, thoughtfully, then sets her sharp stare on Davarax again. “One year.”

He nods.

“And you will follow my orders.” This is clearly not debatable. “For one year, your loyalty is mine.”

Davarax nods again.

Dulsissia feels the urge to object, fears what he is promising himself into, but what does she know? Other than to trust Davarax. So she holds her tongue and hopes she won’t regret it.

Kryze holds out an arm, pointing them towards a building. “Then, welcome home.”

It doesn’t take long before Dulsissia realizes that the people in this Tribe are very different from Davarax’ people. While the Covert had treated her with polite distance, the Mandalorians here eye her with open disdain and suspicion. She’s not one of them and they don’t like it.

Paz, Raga and Din all end up in vicious fights on their very first day. Corin latches himself to his mother’s arm and Barthor basically refuses to leave the room assigned to them. If not for the fact that they need medical help for Davarax and that he’s given his word to stay a year, Dulsissia would have demanded they’d leave by the third day. But, stuck in this place, temporarily, she grits her teeth and tries to make things easier for both the children and Davarax.

With a doctor and some bacta, the injury on Davarax’ neck soon turns into a scar, a reminder of how close she’d come to lose him, and he barely has time to recover before Kryze sends him out on his first mission.

After Davarax comes back, without new wounds despite the blood on his armor, Dulsissia feels such a relief that she clings to him throughout the entire night. Brushing light fingertips over his scar, she keeps her voice down so not to wake the children sleeping at the other side of the room. “Two people asked me today what I did to make you marry me. Three, yesterday. I think one of them accused me of being a Jedi and doing some mind-control-trick on you.”

Davarax shakes with mute laughter. “My little Jedi witch.”

She pokes him in the side with two fingers, making him jolt and hug her closer. Dulsissia settles again and rests her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. “How come you never married?”

“You’re the first that made me want to get married.” Davarax replies with a calm ease, as if his words doesn’t make all kind of happiness radiate through her entire body. He’s looking up at the ceiling, half-asleep. “You’re the first who not only accepted my kids, but loved them, from the very start, and that made me think… we could be one. Made me want it.”

“I do love them. And I love you.” Dulsissia finds his hand and braids their fingers together. Be one. That sounds so right. “How do Mandalorian weddings work? Who does the ceremony? The Tribe leader?”

Davarax turns his head to look at her, suddenly a little eager. “We can do them now. The vows.”

“What?” Dulsissia lifts her head to look at him as well. “Here? In the middle of the night, with no witnesses?”

“A marriage is the ultimate union in Mandalorian culture. It’s about embarking on a future together as one, of sharing everything and raising warriors together. It doesn’t matter where you take the vows, what we care about is that they are kept.”

Dulsissia considers this for a moment, has an involuntary flashback to her huge, glamorous event that had locked her to Macero, and decides she likes the idea of making it all about them instead of a ceremony designed to impress everyone else. But, there is one thing Dulsissia will insist on; “I want the kids to be a part of it. This union includes them, after all.”

Davarax smiles at her, this beautiful smile that takes her breath away for a second, then he lies back down and stares up at the ceiling again. “And this is why I want to marry you.”

Smiling as well, Dulsissia curls up close to him and feels like a giddy teenager again.

That happy feeling is nowhere to be found the next day when she stalks into their room with frustrated tears in her eyes and pressing a hand to her aching ribs. Dulsissia waves a dismissive hand to Din, Barthor and Corin, who instantly jump to their feet to run over to her. “I’m fine.”

Luckily neither Paz or Raga are there to witness this, but Davarax is and he wont be waved away. He gently but firmly persuades her to let him examine her and asks what happened.

“It’s her again.” Dulsissia snaps, cringing with pain as his hand presses gently against her ribs. “The one with the big mouth. I was partnered with her during training today and she acted like she had some kind of personal problem with me.”

Din and Corin exchange frowning looks in the background. Barthor crosses his arms.

“No broken ribs.” Davarax concludes, sounding a little relieved, then looks at her face and frowns a little himself when he sees the bruising on her jaw. He lifts his hand and lets the back of his index finger barely brush over the bruise. “You want me to deal with her?”

“No.” Dulsissia snaps, increasingly angrier. “I don’t need you to handle my problems. I’m going to get even better at this hand-to-hand combat thing and then I’m going to punch that all-helmet-no-brain Mando in her face!”

Davarax takes a gentle hold of her chin and grins. “That’s my girl.”

Strangely enough a foul smell emerges in one particular living quarter and as no one can determine the cause, the woman living there is forced to move. But the smell sticks to her for two weeks.

“They say an Imperial officer is looking for a Mandalorian and a blonde woman.” Bo-Katan states, her t-visor showing Davarax and Dulsissia’s reflections as she stands in the doorway to their room. “I take it that is why you said you needed a safe place to hide?”

Dulsissia feels her stomach clench with unease. Macero… He’d found them? No. If he had, this place would be swarming with Imperial troops. Everything would be on fire. Like Nevarro.

“Is that a problem for you?” Davarax drawls, almost challenges her.

Bo-Katan removes her helmet and looks at him with a confident smirk. “Not at all. Let him come.”

Dulsissia shakes her head. “Don’t underestimate this man, Lady Kryze. He’s-”

“I know all about Macero Valentis.” Bo-Katan cuts her off. “And I’m not afraid of him.”

“Maybe you should be.” Dulsissia warns her. “Did you hear what he did to Nevarro?”

That makes the smile on Bo-Katan’s face widen. “Nevarro did not have our blasters, canons, ships and bombs.”

Dulsissia blinks. Oh. Okay, she’s starting to understand why Davarax insisted on taking shelter with these mean people. Maybe the only way to defeat Macero is to fight fire with fire?

Bo-Katan sends Davarax out on mission after mission. Dulsissia sees the exhaustion return to his face. It drives Dulsissia to train harder, push herself harder, and hopes to to become less of a burden and eventually a true partner that can help him carry the weight of their family.

Entering the room one day, his hands shaking after whatever horrors he’s been through, Davarax proudly declares a shipment of durasteel has been acquired and Lady Kryze has agreed to let him bring his share to their armorer.

Dulsissia watches with a faint smile when she sees Paz and Raga beam with pride as they are fitted with armor. She’s highly amused when Barthor keeps making demands for adjustments to his, and extremely pleased with the delighted looks on Corin and Din’s faces when they get theirs. By the rules of Davarax’ Covert, Corin and Din both should be wearing their helmets now, like Barthor still does, something especially Din had considered a milestone for his adulthood. However, the armor seems to be an acceptable replacement for the moment.

Especially as they know there will be battle soon...

On board his ship, Macero grits his teeth, fury boiling in his veins, and he turns away from where the holo-message from his field-officer had been played for him. How could they be losing? He had sent more than enough troopers to deal with these cretins, so how could they be losing?

Mandalorians are a dangerous breed, he’s come to learn that after chasing them across the Galaxy in the hunt for his wife, but his troopers are highly trained soldiers with the best equipment possible. There is no way they can be losing to these dirt-dwellers!

Macero knew there was a chance this was a trap when news of a blonde woman observed with Mandalorians on this planet reached him, after not hearing a single whisper about his wife’s location for so long, but so what? He had the soldiers and firepower to deal with whatever these people tried to throw at him. Macero is not afraid of some arrogant Mandos.

The three officers in the communication room eye him nervously and Macero suddenly can’t stand their cowardly faces. “I will be in my office. Let me know if there are any more messages.”

Marching to his office, Macero hears the sound of battle on the ground and makes a silent vow that any trooper who retreats back to the ship is to be shot for cowardice. There is no way they are losing. He doesn’t care how bloody the cost will be; the Mandos will pay even more. He will wipe them from this planet.

Macero takes two steps into his office then comes to a halt. His chair is pointing the wrong way. Its back is towards the door. And he didn’t leave it like that.

The door closes behind him.

Looking back, Macero takes a startled step forward when he sees a tall, blue armor and blue helmet wearing Mandalorian standing there.

The sound of the chair turning makes Macero turn back as well and he’s surprised to see another blue armor and blue helmet wearing Mandalorian is sitting his his chair. A smaller one. “What is this?” Macero snaps angrily. “What do you want?”

“Your head on my wall, would be the honest answer.” The one in the chair replies. “But I don’t ever want to see your face again, so… I guess I’ll settle for your life.”

Macero frowns. It can’t be. It’s not possible.

The Mandalorian gets up from the chair. “I told them you were too clever to fall for a trap this obvious. They told me you were too arrogant to resist.” The blue helmet is removed and Dulsissia looks at him with a faint, mocking smile. “Knowing you and your ego, I agreed to try.”

She no longer looks like the frail girl he once knew, not the pretty decoration he wanted but a half-wild creature. Macero’s mouth tightens with disgust. “Where is my son?”

“He’s not here.” Her eyes are as cold as Antonia’s. The old hag would have been proud to witness this. She never liked Macero. “You will never see Corin again.”

“He’s my son.” Macero grits out. “And you are my wife. You two belong to me.”

Dulsissia’s soft laugh is pure mockery. “We don’t belong to you. And you are nothing to us.”

Enraged by her daring to talk to him like that, Macero casts a quick glance back at the Mandalorian blocking the door. “Because of this one? You think you can just take my son away and replace me with the first lumbering oaf tempted by you flashing your ankle?” Macero looks back at Dulsissia. “You better not be carrying his bastard child.”

“After Corin was born, I got the chip. I never was and I never am going to give you any more children to torment.”

“You think I care about you want? You think I will let a spoiled Motti girl ruin my plans?” Macero has never been this furious before. His blood is so hot it almost hurts in his veins. “Your little adventure is over, Dulcy. We’ve wasted enough time on your childish antics. You are coming home. Now.”

He backhands her across the face, hopes she feels it like he did the insult of her getting that damn chip behind his back, draws his blaster with his other hand at the same time and fires back at the Mandalorian.

Dulsissia is not prepared and the surprise of the impact knocks her off balance more than the pain. Still, she moves with it, uses the momentum to spin away to get some distance between them and get her helmet back on.

The HUD is still a bit confusing to her, but she knows the value of the protection the helmet offers. (Davarax had given up pieces of his own armor to have the beskar remade into helmets for them and she had cried over him having to sacrifice even more for their family.)

Davarax is forced to move in order to dodge the shots Macero fires at him and he draws his own weapon, but because of where Dulsissia is standing; he doesn’t fire back, unwilling to risk hitting her.

This buys Macero enough time to activate his communication link and demand back-up.

Dulsissia knows most of the men in her family are officers in the Imperial army because their names and fortune ensured it, but Macero had worked his way up and he is far from helpless.

He unfortunately proves it as he ducks under the punch Davarax throws at him, turns and delivers a hard kick at the side of Davarax’ knee, making him buckle. Macero keeps turning and fires his blaster at Dulsissia, forcing her to take cover behind his desk.

Davarax throws himself forward, plants his shoulder into Macero and manages to slam him into the wall, but that results in them being locked together while trying to pummel the other into submission and Dulsissia being the one not willing to shoot this time in case she’d hit Davarax.

And moments after that, the door to the office slides open to let a wave of storm troopers rush in.

It becomes chaos. And fear jolts through Dulsissia when she hears Macero call out the order for them to kill the Mandalorian but not harm her. Davarax is the best fighter she’s ever seen, but some times quality is forced to break under quantity. She stalks forward, picks up a blaster one of the now fallen troopers had lost, and she begins to fire with a weapon in each hand at every target her HUD identifies as hostile and absently marvels at the strength and agility of the man she loves as Davarax comes at the enemy with brute strength.

A warning flashes across her HUD and Dulsissia manages to side-step Macero’s attempt to slam the back of a blaster rifle at her helmet. She lifts the stolen blaster but he knocks it out of her hand instead and when she lifts her own blaster, another warning flashes across her HUD. This time she’s not fast enough to avoid it; Macero’s right hand locks around her throat and cuts off her air.

Automatically grabbing at his arm with her free hand, Dulsissia feels the ground disappear under her feet as he lifts her up and then her back slams down on his desk. Macero hovers over her with a furious expression on his face.

“You foolish girl.” He sneers with fury and disgust. “What did you think would happen? That I would give up? That you and your simpleton would live happily ever after? Stupid, stupid girl. Your blood is far too important to me. I will never let you go. And I will find my son too. Believe me.”

She does.

The blaster shot is muffled due to the weapons muzzle pressing against its target, but Macero jolts and his eyes grow wide as he stares at her. His anger is replaced with shock and disbelief.

For a couple of heartbeats, as Dulsissia looks into Macero’s eyes, she remembers how his smile used to make her blush, how he would encourage her to talk and be the only one in her life who bothered to listen when she did, how incredibly gentle his hand was on her skin for their first kiss, and while that man never truly existed, she still says goodbye.

Macero slowly tilts to the side, his hand letting go of her throat, and he simply drops to the floor. His blood is on her armor, on her blaster and her hand. And yet, as Dulsissia draws a shivering breath, she feels free.

Her son is safe.

Sitting up, coughing, Dulsissia lifts her blaster and picks off two storm troopers aiming to fire at Davarax as he’s dealing with one of their comrades. “Dav. Let’s go.” She uses the internal communication system.

“It’s done?” His voice replies.

“It’s over.” Dulsissia deliberately does not look over at the fallen Macero. “Let’s go.”

“You got my back?”

“Always.”

Instantly barging towards the door, Davarax takes several hits to his armor, almost staggers due to the reduced efficiency of durasteel instead of beskar, but it’s not enough to stop him, and Dulsissia quickly makes her way over to cover their backs. He pushes forward for them to escape, she keeps them safe while he creates a path down the hallway.

Once they climb the stairs to the second floor of the ship, followed by troopers, Davarax makes a pleased sound when he sees the door Dulsissia had been talking about and sets course for it.

While it was the men of her family who got to be military officers, Dulsissia had spent plenty of time on imperial ships after Macero started to court her and she knows their lay out like the mansion on Seswenna. This door will lead outside, to a narrow path along the ship’s side originally meant to be used in case of repairs, but with the ship currently hovering inside the planet’s atmosphere; it is perfect as an escape route. And as more and more troopers join the ones already chasing them, they need one.

Davarax opens the door and a powerful gust of wind rushes in as they are high above ground. He looks back at her.

Dulsissia keeps firing her blaster at the stairway, forcing the storm troopers to duck down. “Go.”

Davarax nods, steps forward, vaults over the railing and disappears.

Grabbing a grenade from her belt, Dulsissia activates it and throws it down the stairs before going back to firing her blaster again. A trooper gets off a lucky shot that punches into her breastplate and while the durasteel is strong enough to prevent the shot from penetrating, it still hurts like dank farrik.

The explosion from the grenade causes enough chaos that Dulsissia dares to holster her blaster and make a run for it. She hears the troopers shouting, her HUD flashes a warning as a blaster shot goes by her head, but Dulsissia keeps running, climbs the railing in two steps and takes a leap of blind faith into the open air.

Gravity takes a hold. She falls and reaches out one hand. Despite her HUD frantically flashing that she’s in danger, Dulsissia feels no fear. Two seconds later, Davarax’ hand grabs her wrist and she instantly takes a hold of his, letting him pull her up so she can get her arms around his torso and he gets his other arm around her waist while his jetpack holds them steady and prevents them from plummeting to their deaths.

Behind them, seven storm troopers follow through the door and spread out along the pathway to aim their blasters and are about fire when twenty Mandalorians fly up from below the ship to aim their weapons back at the troopers.

“Your ground troops have already surrendered. I have Mandalorians infiltrating the ship as we speak. Do you want to follow your leader into the after life?” Bo-Katan asks them.

It doesn’t take long before the storm troopers cautiously lower their weapons and signal their surrender.

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay?” Bo-Katan asks as they are loading up the final items to the Razor Crest. “I appreciate a warrior like you on my team. We might even be able to hunt down some more beskar.”

“I am grateful for you letting us stay, but it is time we move on now.” Davarax replies. “I think we all yearn for a little freedom. And you have an imp ship, a bunch of new weapons and enemies to get information out of. I’m sure you won’t have time to go beskar hunting any time soon.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” Bo-Katan declares.

Davarax nods and holds out his hand.

With a wry smile, she takes it. “At least you’re out from underground. There’s hope for you at least.”

“Careful, Lady Kryze.” Davarax says, releasing her hand. “My Covert’s determination and dedication is unmatched. Who knows, maybe one day the next Mandalor might come from there.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Bo-Katan says with mock-seriousness. She then glances over at where Dulsissia is smothering Corin, Din and Paz in a group-hug, trying to make them forgive her for refusing them to join in the fight. “She didn’t do too bad today. There might be hope for her too.”

“She’s Mandokarla.” Davarax declares with badly hidden pride.

Bo-Katan hums, clearly not entirely sold. “She talks too much.”

Laughing a little, Davarax heads over to the ship. “Goodbye, Lady Kryze.”

“Mom?” Standing in the cockpit of the Razor Crest as she is brought to life, Corin glances over at Dulsissia, and he looks so grown up and handsome in his armor that she wants to squeeze his face between her hands and plant kisses all over aforementioned face. “Where are we going now?”

Settling for reaching out and gingerly arranging a lock of his dark hair doing its best to poke up high enough to pick up a radio signal, Dulsissia smiles. “We’re going to visit someone.”

Din plots in the coordinates while Davarax has settled in the left passenger seat and is tinkering on his vambrace. The teen frowns as he sees what comes up and looks back at them. “Is this correct?”

Dulsissia’s smile widens. “Absolutely.”

Corin goes pale.

“So he’s dead?” Antonia Motti says as she enters her office. “Good. One less problem to deal with in this family.” She pauses as she sees the armored people in the room and gives one slow blink before she reaches up to her ear. “I will talk to you later.” Antonia switches off the device in her ear and lifts a dry eyebrow. “I don’t know how you lot managed to break in here, but I can assure you that you will never leave this place alive.”

Dulsissia removes her helmet and forces herself to smile. “Hello mother.”

Antonia doesn’t visibly react, merely scans her from top to toe and back up again. “You look awful.” She walks over to her desk and sits down, forcing Dulsissia to turn around to look at her. “I hear your husband is dead. I can’t say I shall mourn his absence.” “That makes two of us.” Dulsissia replies.

“Why are you here?” Antonia asks, keeping her calculating stare on her daughter and ignoring everyone else in the room. “Have you come to your senses and returned to stay? I will let your friends leave with a nice reward for bringing you home.”

Shaking her head, Dulsissia hangs on to her smile out of spite. “No. I’m not here to stay. I just stopped by to pick up some of my things before I leave for good.”

Antonia frowns a little, but she’s clearly not surprised. “You continue to disappoint me.” She sighs and shakes her head as if her daughter is a lost cause. “Where is my grandson?”

Dulsissia gestures to one of the figures.

Stepping forward, removing his helmet, Corin watches Antonia warily. “Hello.”

Antonia scans him as well and seems a little more pleased with what she sees. “No longer a timid child, but a young man. You’ve grown a lot since I saw you last, Corin.” She scans him again. “You don’t have to go with your mother, you know. If you want to, you can stay here, with me. As a Motti you will never starve, never lack for anything, and everyone will respect you.”

Corin swallows hard. “Thank you, but I’m going with them.”

Antonia makes a thoughtful hum. “That is a shame. But there is always a place for you here, Corin. Remember that.”

He nods.

Turning her attention back to Dulsissia, Antonia purses her lips with disdain. “So now what? You are going to traipse around the Galaxy looking like a half-wild woman? Dragging your innocent son with you. With these…” She waves a hand at the others. “People?”

“Yeah.” Dulsissia replies, with every bit as much arrogance as Antonia radiates. “I want him to experience what a real family feels like.” She puts her helmet back on and walks over to the door before she looks back at her mother again. “We’ll be leaving now. I suggest no one follows us.” Dulsissia hesitates before adding; “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“That’s a nice change as last time you just took off without a word.” Antonia snipes. “And don’t fool yourself, you will be back, Dulsissia. Without Macero, the lure of our world will bring you back.”

Realizing that her mother does not know her at all, Dulsissia huffs a soft laugh. “Goodbye.”

“Are are we landing?” Dulsissia was on her way up the ladder to the Razor Crest’s cockpit when Din appears and blocks her path. “It feels like we’re landing. Why are we landing?”

Din’s eyes flicker. “We, uh, the ship, it… “

“Repairs!” Raga shouts from above.

“Yeah!” Din latches on to it like the word is a life raft. “Repairs. We have to do some repairs.”

Dulsissia frowns. Repairs? There is nothing wrong with the ship. It was fully operational when they left Bo-Katan’s Covert and it hasn’t been in any combat or stressful situations since.

She looks over at Barthor sitting on the seat next to the ladder, but he just shrugs and that puzzles her a little. Usually he is the first to pick up on odd stuff. But if he’s not worried, maybe she shouldn’t be either? “Okay…” Dulsissia draws out her reply, especially as Din is not budging, strategically placed so she won’t be able to get by him.

When she slowly withdraws, Din watches her with a smile so fake she could cry.

But Corin and Paz are still slouching in their seats in the cargo hold and also show no anxiousness or suspicion whatsoever, so Dulsissia reluctantly gets back in her seat.

Only then does Din disappear. But, she is willing to bet he’d pop up like a bill collector if she approaches the ladder again.

What is going on?

The Razor Crest shudders and shivers a little before they feel it touch ground and settle.

Dulsissia is first in line when the ramp starts to lower itself, doesn’t even wait for Davarax and the others to come down from the cockpit, too curious to see where they are.

The sight stuns her.

Walking down the ramp, Dulsissia studies the surroundings, overwhelmed by the beauty. And when she eventually steps off the ramp and her feet touch soft soil and carries her out among the endless ocean of flowers stretching out as far as her eyes can see, she can’t hold back a dazed laugh. It is so incredibly beautiful! Millions and millions of flowers covering the surface in every direction under the bright teal sky.

Her heart is racing, it’s almost difficult to breathe, and she can’t stop smiling. She has never seen anything like this. She didn’t know anything like this even existed.

A sound behind her reminds Dulsissia that she’s not alone and she turns around to how the others are reacting to this amazing view, but is hit by another heart-stopping sight when she sees Davarax standing there, the kids huddled together behind him, and he’s holding out both of his hands to offer her the most exquisite looking blaster she’s ever seen.

The metal is shining silver, the design delicate and yet practical, and on the hilt is what has to be insanely expensive gem stones creating the shape of a beautiful plom bloom.

“Will you take the vows with me here?” Davarax asks, a little nervous and very hopeful.

Dulsissia has to cover her mouth with her hand for a second as her eyes well up with tears and an ugly bawl threatens to escape her lips. Once she feels she has herself back under control, despite some tears escaping as she tries to blink them away, Dulsissia nods. “Yes…”

“Yes?” Davarax dares to take a step closer.

Laughing and sobbing at the same time, Dulsissia nods. “Yes.” And she laughs and cries a little more when the kids break into loud cheers, numbly accepting the blaster and eagerly curls into the hug Davarax pulls her into.

She has to hold on to him, lean on him, for a moment or two, to once again regain some composure, but finally Dulsissia leans back and sniffles a little.

Davarax does his huff-laugh and gently wipes a tear away from her face. “You okay?”

She nods, taking a step away, wiping her face with her lower arm. “I’m fine.” Dulsissia awkwardly pats her hair and tries to shape it into something less wookiee-ish with one hand as she won’t let go of the blaster. “How do we…?”

Davarax takes her hand, makes her give up on her hair and focus on him. “You sure you want to do this? One. In this life and the next. Are you sure?”

Exhaling, grounding herself, Dulsissia meets his eyes with calm and soft happiness. “I am.”

Obviously relieved, Davarax nods. Then he has to take a breath before teaching her the words, one by one, what they mean both literally and spiritually, how they link to his Creed and what being married to a Mandalorian means.

Dulsissia listens, learns and decides this is all something she can accept and even embrace. It just feels right. She feels at peace as well as flushed with excitement that they are going to do this.

And them, amidst millions of flowers, with Corin, Din, Paz, Raga and Barthor as approving witnesses, Dulsissia and Davarax takes the vows.

Mhi solus tome. We are one together. Mhi solus dhar'tome. We are one when parted. Mhi me'dinui an. We share all. Mhi ba'juri verde. We will raise warriors.

For a moment, maybe it is just the bright sky playing tricks on her, Dulsissia could have sworn Davvarax’ eyes shimmer a little wet, but then he pulls her close and kisses her so sweetly she barely hears the kids cheering again.

They are on their fourth kiss when Dulsissia realizes the children are now running back and forth between them and the ship and a glance behind Davarax reveals they are setting up a celebration feast of sweets, cookies and other treats, carefully placed across a blanket on the ground.

She looks up at Davarax with a soft gasp. “You guys have planned this for ages!”

Davarax shrugs, trying to look guilty and failing because of the pleased smile on his lips. “I needed help to find the perfect place. And putting the blaster together. And getting the food. And… everything, really. I couldn’t have done it without them.”

Tearing up again, Dulsissia drags him down for a fifth kiss before dragging him over to the blanket. “Ooooh, this looks so nice!” She waves a finger at Barthor. “Make sure you put some aside for you, baby. Don’t make me angry on my wedding day.”

Barthor ducks his head down and makes a pleased and embarrassed huff. “Okay.”

They all settle down on the blanket. Raga slaps Paz over the fingers as he aims to grab the first cookie, declaring Dulsissia and Davarax gets to choose first. Sulking, he agrees.

Dulsissia makes sure not to touch the cookie he wanted. Davarax does the same. Which means she has to kiss him again.

“So…” Corin says, sitting on Davarax’ other side, not by his mother for once. “So now that you two are, like, married… With you married to my mom…”

Chewing on a cookie, Davarax glances over at him. “Mmh?”

“Does that mean I call you ‘Dad’ now?” Corin asks just as Davarax swallows.

Choking, coughing, wheezing, Davarax ends up grabbing a bottle of water and takes a swig from it, aware of how not only Corin, but everyone is looking at him. His spouse included.

Lowering the bottle, Davarax gets rid of the final couple of coughs still lingering before putting the bottle down again and Davarax focuses on Corin to speak the truth. “That’s entirely up to you, Corin. If you want to call me that, I would be honoured. If you want to keep calling me ‘Davarax’, that is perfectly okay. This is your choice, not my decision, and I promise that whatever you choose is fine with me.”

Dulsissia discretely slides her hand over and takes a hold of Davarax’ hand between them.

Corin frowns as he looks down at the blanket, considering things. “I always wanted a dad. My father was… my father. I read about dads and they were not like him. Dads in the books were more like…” He glances back at Davarax. “They were like you. I would like to have a dad like you.”

“And I would be proud to have you as my son.” Davarax replies in a gentle voice.

Embarrassed but so very happy, Corin dives in and wraps his arms around Davarax.

Placing his own arm around Corin, hugging him close, Davarax then leans down and quietly murmurs: “Corin. Ni kar'tayli gai sa'ad “

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #what if #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Teenager Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #Sugar warning for the epilogue

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noladyme · 3 years

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La Cuervo - Chapter 9

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

Bishop leaned back in his seat, and took a drag of his cigar. “Go on…”. “What I’ve been paying Alvarez so far, I’m willing to pay you, for information on any woman who might have crossed to Mexico, who fits the description of Gael's killer”, Palo said. “Which is…?”, Angel asked. “Asthmatic prostitute", Sala declared with a hoarse laugh, and ran a finger up Daniella’s thigh. The blonde smiled flirtatiously at him, before shooting Angel and Nina a dirty look.

Nina began shifting on Angel’s lap. He responded by stroking soothing circles on her back. “Coco, Gilly and Angel are our border-runners", Bishop said. Palo looked towards Angel and Nina, and Nina almost felt it as a gush of ice wind to be under his gaze. His eyes were so similar to Gaels, it was difficult to remain calm. “Yeah, but we haven’t seen nothing “, Angel said. “Still, you might at some point”, Palo said. “We could make some business together if you do”. “What is it you want?”, Bishop said. “I want you to find the girl, and bring her to me, so I can do to her what she did to my cousin… after I spend some time paying her back for the pain and money she’s cost me trying to find her”.

Nina looked down at her drink and realized she hadn’t touched it. The talk of the Mayans tracking her down for Palo, so he could kill her, was getting to be more than she could handle. Topping that of, was the promise of whatever torture he had planned. She downed her drink quickly, and coughed a little, as the burning liquid made its way down her throat. Filip straightened in his seat. “This conversation is between your two clubs. Now if you don’t mind, the young lady here seems to be in need of a dance”. He looked at Angel. “Unless you have a problem with that”. Nina looked at Angel almost pleadingly. She needed to get away from the situation, but keeping up appearances meant that Angel needed to give his permission – though they both knew that if the situation had been different, and she wasn’t trying to blend in, this wouldn’t have made a difference to her. Angel gave her a quick kiss. “Can’t say no to the SAMCRO prez, can I…?”, he said. “Go on, mami”. Filip reached out his arm, and Nina took it; doing her best not to make it too obvious how much she needed to lean on him, as they walked away.

“How are you feeling, luv'?”, Filip asked, as he led her over towards the evening's designated dancing-area. “Do you need your inhaler? Where is it?”. “In the trailer… But no. It’s not that. I’m just… scared”, she admitted. “Everything is fine. The Vatos don’t suspect anything”, Filip said. She put her hands on his shoulders, and Filip put his hands on her waist; and they began moving together to the song that was playing.

“You look beautiful", he said. “Bullshit”, she said, her voice shaking. “You’re just trying to make me feel better”. “When have I ever lied about the way you look?”, Filip frowned. “Remember that pimple on your forehead?”. Nina let a smile find its way to her lips at the memory. “You called me The Creature from the Black Lagoon for a week”, she said. “It was humongous! Terrifying…”, Filip exclaimed. “But it’s true. You’re breathtaking tonight. Though, it might just be because you look happier than you have in years”. They swayed together for a long moment, before Nina replied. “I am… I think", she said. “And Mr. Sharp-as-a-marble over there did that?”, Filip grunted. She scowled at him “Sorry…I suppose he has a certain Neanderthalic charm to him, and seeing as you more or less grew up in a club, it makes sense for you to fall for a patch… I just thought we’d lose you to one of our own charters. You have first lady potential, my love. It’s not too late for us to get out of here. We could drop you off with SAMDINO”. “Packer?”, Nina gasped. She shuddered at the thought of the San Bernadino president. “That man eats nails for breakfast”. “So do you. And you wash it down with coffee blacker than the night”, Filip chuckled. “Yeah, well; that’s not happening”, Nina muttered.

They danced for a moment longer. Nina locked eyes with Angel, and he shot her a warm smile. Filip noticed them looking at each other, and chuckled to himself. “He’s… It feels right", Nina said quietly. “Jackie-boy would be happy for you”, he said. Nina looked at him, and swallowed thickly, to wet her throat. “And you? Are you happy for me?”, Nina asked. “I’m not as smart as he was”, Filip said, and gallantly made her twirl under his arm. Nina giggled at the motion, and when he pulled her back in, she threw her arms around his neck; hugging him close. “Thank you… For being my family. For taking care of me…”. “But… it’s time for you to make your own life”, Filip said, cutting her off. She winced at his words. “Don’t do that… It feels like you’re saying goodbye”, Nina said. “Aren’t I? You’ve got yourself a new family”, he replied. “You’re my family… SAMCRO is”. She felt tears beginning to form in her eyes. “And now these people are as well, it seems”, Filip replied. He moved a finger under her chin, and lifted her head to look into her eyes. “We will always be your family, Nina. And we will never make you chose; you got that?”. Nina nodded, and Filip placed a covert kiss on her temple.

The song was over, and Nina quickly dried her eyes. Coco came up to them from somewhere, his expression worried. “Yo, where’s that mouse-cabron?”, he asked Filip. “Ratboy? Haven’t seen him in a few”, Filip replied. “Why?”. Coco cursed below his breath. “I can’t find Letty. He was checking her out earlier”, he grunted. Nina shook her head. “Coco, I told him to keep away. You don’t have anything to worry about”. “Yeah? Then where the fuck are they?”.

They began searching the premises. Coco was fuming; almost shaking in rage. Going into the clubhouse, they found a couple of girls knocking on the door to the bathroom. “Come on. We have to pee!”, one of them cried out. “What’s going on in there?”, Nina asked. “One of those Charming guys went in there with a girl like 15 minutes ago”, the girl replied. Coco strode over, and pushed the girls away, before pounding the door. “Letty…? Leticia!”, he roared. The door was almost shaking from the force of his fist. “If this thing with VM doesn’t start a war; Rat’s dick might…”, Filip muttered to Nina. He walked over to Coco, and pushed him away. “Rat?”.

The door opened, and Quinn came out; zipping his jeans. “What man? I was in the middle of something”. Coco’s eyes widened in rage, before a strange brunette with an embarrassed grin came out behind Quinn; wiping her lips. “Fuck…”, Coco snarled. “Sorry, brother”, Filip said. “We’re looking for his kid. She might have slipped off with Rat”. Quinn nodded in direction of the door. “I saw them going towards the office building”. Coco almost ran out the door, bumping in to Angel as he passed. “Letty…”, Nina said to him, as he looked confusedly at her. Angel rolled his eyes, and followed Coco; Filip and Nina at his heels.

They ran across the yard, through the crowd, and made it to the office, just as Coco pulled his gun; and kicked in the door. “What the fuck?”, he yelled, as he stood in the doorway. Filip and Angel rushed over to stop him, but halted in their steps; and both laughed out loud. “What”, Nina asked, and ran over to see what was going on. She pushed her way past the men, and found Coco aiming his gun at Rat, who was blowing his nose in some tissue. He and Letty laid on their stomachs on the floor, watching The Notebook on her iPad. “Coco? What the fuck?”, Leticia said. “My bad. I thought you were… What the fuck are you doing?”, Coco asked. “What does it look like?”, Letty snarled. Angel patted Coco’s shoulder. “Put away the gun, man”, he said. Coco clenched his jaw, and groaned. “Letty, go home”, he said. Rat looked at him pleadingly. “Can we finish the movie first?” Filip chuckled, and shook his head. “Finish the movie, and then take this young lady home, Ratboy”, he said. “No hanky-panky”. Rat nodded, while Letty rolled her eyes.

They left Rat and Letty to it, and walked back towards the party. Filip led Coco in front of him, with a hand on his shoulder. Angel slipped an arm around Nina, and made them fall behind. “Come dance with me”, he said. Nina looked at him disbelievingly. “You dance?”, she chuckled. Angel smirked at her. “I do a lot of things you don’t know about yet”. He led her towards the dancing area, and wrapped both arms tightly around her, holding her close. Nina merged her fingers behind his neck, and let him lead her to the rhythm of the music. Angel danced like he rode his bike; confident, and showing off just the right amount. He knew how to move, and was beyond needing to prove himself, but he was also a smug bastard. At one point, he decided to sweep a leg behind her, and dip her so far to the ground she could almost feel her hair brush the ground. She laughed at the move, and shivered in pleasure as Angel placed a soft kiss to her neck, when he lifted her up again. Nina felt comfortable and safe in his arms, and let herself swim away in his deep eyes.

“Have a nice chat with your brother?”, Angel asked. “Yeah… It was nice to not have to pretend not to know him for just a couple of minutes”, Nina sighed. “I get that”, he replied. “Did he say anything… interesting?”. Nina raised a brow at him. “Nosy…”, she grinned. Angel shrugged embarrassedly. “No, nothing interesting. Just relaying a job-offer”. “Yeah?”. “Yup. First lady of SAMDINO”. Angel’s eyes widened. “Fuck. That’s a good offer. Sure you don’t wanna take it?”. Nina laughed, and punched his shoulder. “You sick of me already, Mayan?”. “Not possible, cuervo”, Angel smiled, and dipped his head to meet her lips. She inhaled him as he kissed her; the mix of liquor, cologne, musk and pure Angel filling her nose and her entire being. He pulled back, and looked down at her; and without using his voice, it was as if he spoke the words she was beginning to think she felt herself.

Angel drew in a breath, and was about to speak, when he chuckled and shook his head. “What?”, Nina said. “We should split”, he said. “Why? Is something wrong?”, she asked. He placed his lips to her ear. “Nah, but the way you’re moving, ma’; my dick is hard as a rock”, he growled, and pressed his groin against her to prove his point. Nina giggled, and turned to press her lips to his again. “But I didn’t have any of the chorizo yet”, she breathed. “I’ll give you the fucking chorizo”, Angel said, and moved his hand down to squeeze her butt, sending shivers through her spine. “You’re disgusting”, she smirked. He raised a brow at her, and moved his hand covertly under the skirt of her dress; ghosting her folds. “Disgusting is making you wet, ma’”, he whispered. Dipping his finger behind the fabric of her panties, and just inside her, Angel smirked as Nina let out a soft moan.

They quickly caught up with Filip and Coco, who had calmed down by now. They were at the bar with Tig, Bishop and Palo. Nina did her best to ignore the Vato. “I’m taking my girl home”, Angel said. Filip nodded, and shook his hand. “Alright, brother”, he said, and turned to Nina. “It was lovely to meet you, sweetheart”. “Will you be sticking around?”, she asked. “We head out tomorrow”, Tig replied, and winked at her. We’ll say goodbye then, he way saying.

Angel gave Coco a hug, and Nina kissed his cheek; before they headed towards the trailer to get her things. While she rushed to pack up her belongings, Angel waited in the doorway; tilting his head to look up her skirt every time she bent over. Nina couldn’t help but smile at his wanton glares, but frowned when she turned towards the table. The gun was there, but the inhaler was gone. “What’s wrong?”, Angel asked. “My inhaler… It’s gone”, she replied. He shrugged. “You probably already packed it”, he said. “No… It was right here”. Angel crouched down to check under the table. “You sure? Maybe you lost it when you were getting stuff ready for tonight”, he said. He got up to stand, and took her hand. “Are you ok? Do you need it right now?”. “No, but… Angel, I left it right here!”. Angel frowned, and something unreadable ghosted his face. “I’ll take you to get a new one tomorrow, yeah?”. Nina sighed, and nodded. “Yeah… ok”. She put her gun in her bag and grabbed her helmet. “Let’s go”.

Once back outside, Angel nodded at Bishop, Palo and Filip, who were standing on the porch. Bishop waved at them, and they went to get on Angel’s bike. Soon after, they were driving off the lot. Nina felt a wave of relief wash over her, once they were out of eyesight of the yard.

---

The vibrations of the bike didn’t do anything to calm the building tingling sensation in Nina’s lower belly; at the anticipation of what awaited her. She tightened her grasp on Angel’s waist, and did her best to avoid moving her hands down to his crotch, so that she wouldn’t distract his driving.

They hardly made it inside the house, before Angel had pulled her bag off her back, and thrown it on the floor. He attacked her lips while his hands roamed her body. His fingers travelled up under her skirt, and found their way down her panties; tracing her lower lips for a second, before his middle and ring finger plunged in to her. Nina threw her arms around his neck, and gasped. “Oh… shit… Oh my god…”, she panted, as he scissored them against her front wall. The heel of his hand rubbed deliciously against her clit, and she was finding it hard to stand. “I got you…”, Angel breathed. Nina could only moan in reply, and moved her hips to ride his fingers. “You like this? You want me to make you come like this, mami?”. “Fuck… yes”, Nina pleaded; her feet slipping on the floor. The sounds of Angel’s fingers working on her were obscene, with the slick noises of her wetness against his hand. His other arm went around her back, and held her in place. “Then fucking come for me. Come on my hand”. Her legs were already shaking, and when Angel made an especially hard thrust of his fingers, they gave in; and all that kept her horizontal was her arms around neck. She cried out as her climax hit her, and heat spread through her body. She would have fallen backwards if it wasn’t for Angel’s hold on her.

He lowered her to the floor, and quickly shed his cut and top. With shaking hands, Nina pulled off her panties, and threw them in a corner somewhere. Angel got down on the floor, and crawled over her; kissing her with a passion. She pushed at his shoulders, making him lay down on his back, and straddled his legs; yanking at his jeans, while he laughingly tried to open his belt. “There’s my greedy girl…”, he grinned. She finally managed to get his pants and boxers pulled down; and gasped in pleasure as his erection sprung free. Scooting forwards, and lifting herself, she then grabbed a hold of him, and held him to her opening; sinking down while she let out a mewl at the delicious stretch. “Fuck…”, she whimpered, and began moving on top of him.

As Angel grabbed her hips to guide her movements, Nina unzipped her dress behind her, and pulled it over her head. She then unhooked her bra, and threw it behind her; knocking over a half-drunken beer on the table. Angel was holding on to her so hard that she was sure to have bruises on her hips. She was grinding against him, desperately trying to reach her high again. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this”, Angel groaned, and moved his hands to her breasts; kneading them, and pulling at her nipples. The sting was equal parts pleasurable and painful, and Nina threw her head back in extasy. He was so deep inside her – filling her so perfectly – that she felt like they were growing in to one being. Leaning her hands on Angel’s chest for leverage, she began moving up and down in stead of grinding. Every time her butt hit his thighs, and his dick bottomed out in her, she let out a gasping whimper. “You feel so good…”, she panted. “Don’t stop, mami. Keep moving like that”, Angel demanded. She clenched her muscles around him, and his expression became almost animal, as he let out a growl. “Fuck me!”.

Nina grabbed his lower arms, and he held on to hers, so she could use him as leverage while she leaned back. She managed to get into a position where Angel was hitting her g-spot at every thrust of her hips; and she sped up her movements, beginning to feel another climax nearing. “Angel!”, she cried out, as she came for the second time; her body shaking and heart feeling like it was trying to pound its way out of her chest. Angel sat up, and wrapped his arms around her; putting his hands on her shoulders to keep her pinned to his cock. She kept moving, dragging out her pleasure; and felt his abs tense up against her belly, letting her know he was close as well. “I’m gonna cum”, he announced. “Don’t stop!”. Nina was almost crying from the intense waves of the orgasm still washing through her. Angel cried out, and spilled himself inside her. She felt her body calm down, and began relaxing against him. Angel buried his face in the crook of her neck, and laughed. “Fuck, Nina…”. He looked up at her, and released his arms from around her. Cupping her face, he kissed her deeply. “That was…”. “Yeah…”, Nina smiled.

Panting in each other’s arms for a while longer, Angel finally put his hands on Nina’s butt, to gently lift her off him. She whined in disappointment at the loss of their connection, when he made her get off his lap. “Come on, ma'. Move your ass. I need to get something to eat", Angel chuckled, and patted her butt-cheek playfully as she moved to sit on the floor. Nina grinned at his words, and spread her legs, to invite him in. “Well, if you want…”, she said. Angel laughed, and leaned over to kiss her softly, before getting off the floor, and pulling his pants up, without closing them. “Real nourishment, querida”, he said, and walked into the kitchen to search the fridge for something edible.

Nina huffed in annoyance, and got to her feet; grabbing her dress, and beginning to pull it over her head to cover herself up. Angel appeared in the doorway, and gave her a displeased once-over. “What are you doing? Who said I was done with you?”. Nina’s eyes snapped up at him, and she nearby felt her knees buckle from the sheer machismo of his stance. His jeans hung from his hips, giving her just enough of a view of his pubic-bone, to make her shiver in lust, and his gaze was proud. She dropped the dress and stepped towards him, and Angel put his free hand on her hip, as he put a carton of juice to his mouth. A droplet escaped his lips, and she got on her toes and licked it from the corner of his mouth. Angel set down the juice on the counter, and snatched a packet of cereal from a shelf, before smacking Nina's butt to make her turn around again.

His juices were beginning to run down her leg, which was really the only sign that he’d already come tonight; as, when he walked behind Nina, his penis poked her in the back. He was still hard, horny, and – as he’d said – not done with her. Once in the bedroom, Angel threw an arm around Nina, holding the packet of cereal against her belly. His other hand went to her throat; forcing her back against his chest. She turned her head, and managed to draw a kiss from him, before he pushed her down on the bed; landing on her chest. Angel grabbed a pillow, and made her lift her hips, so he could place it under her; lifting her backside for him. She lay there with bated breath, and anticipating his entering her at any moment; but time dragged out, and she was beginning to wonder what he was waiting for.

Suddenly, she heard a crunching noise. “What are you doing?”, she asked. “Don’t move”, Angel replied. She felt his fingertips making small dips on each of her butt-cheeks, then up her spine. She began to turn her head. “What…?”. Angel took a firm hold of her head, and turned it forwards again. “I said; don’t move”, he growled. Something fell off her butt, and landed on the bed. “Look what you did…”. Then she realized what he had been doing. “Is that cereal?”, she chuckled. Angel replaced the little oat-ring on her cheek. “Said I was hungry”, he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

Placing the packet on the floor, Angel placed his lips on first her left cheek – kissing it, and sucking the cereal into his mouth. He did the same thing on her other cheek, and Nina found it hard to lay still from the feel of his lips on her body. Angel travelled up her spine, kissing her skin, and sucking the cereal trail into his mouth. She felt goosebumps forming in the wake of Angel’s lips, and her tunnel clenched around nothing; wanting him inside her so bad. He made sure not to put his weight on her. All she felt of him where his lips and tongue; though his body radiated heat which contrasted delightfully with the coolness of the wet spots he left in his wake up her back.

Finally reaching the last piece of cereal at the nape up her neck, Angel left a lingering kiss, and licked his way down to the spot bellow her ear. Here he suckled for a millisecond, before plunging his cock inside her; and laying down on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. Nina cried out at the sensation of being full again. Angel began a brutal pace, slamming in to her hard with every thrust. She was being squeezed under his weight, and loved every second of it. A stray tear left her eye. “You good, mami?”, Angel panted. “Harder!”, Nina demanded. Angel laughed, and fucked in to her with even more vigor.

Nina felt her scalp sting, as Angel grabbed a hold of her hair, and made her turn her head, so he could kiss her. The sounds of her gasps and moans mixed with Angel’s groaning, and his hips hitting her backside continuously. She felt her climax approaching, and Angel wrapped his hand around her throat again, carefully squeezing it. She felt dominated and used, and at the same time safe and cared for beyond belief. Her tears of pleasure mixed with tears of joy, as she exploded into an orgasm. “Oh… god!”, she almost screamed, her voice ragged. Angel let go of her throat, and used her clenching tunnel to reach his own high. Making a ragged groan, he finally climaxed, and came inside her.

He kissed the nape of her neck, and pulled out; collapsing next to her on the bed. Too overwhelmed to move, and still shaking from her orgasm, Nina couldn’t turn around, and simply whimpered. Angel smiled softly, and pulled her into his arms, letting her settle against his chest. He grabbed the packet of cereal, and picked an oat-ring out; before holding it to Nina’s lips, and letting her eat it. “Thank you…”, she smiled. “Right back at you. Do you wanna go clean up?”. “No…”, Nina yawned. “But I have to. UTI’s are not sexy”. Angel kissed her temple. “Go…”, he said, and helped her sit up. She crawled off the bed, and went into the bathroom.

She found Angel on his phone, when she reentered the bedroom. He looked serious as he spoke. “Did they say they’d be back…? What lead…? Yeah, ok… Nah, we’ll be there before reaper heads out again… Yeah, see you then”. He hung up, and looked at Nina. “Vatos Malditos just rode out”. Nina crawled under the sheets, and curled up next to him. “Is something wrong?”, she asked. Angel frowned slightly. “Sala told Taza they had a lead on Gael’s killer…”, he muttered. “This is good. It means they don’t suspect you”. Nina sighed. “Yeah… maybe”. Angel pulled her into his arms, and pressed his lips to hers. “You’re good, cuervo. You’re safe”.

She nodded; not sure if she agreed.

---

Angel was still asleep when Nina woke in the morning. He had a blissful expression on his face, and she didn’t have the heart to wake him; but her bladder was craving her attention, so carefully she slipped out of his embrace to go pee. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she saw that the two hickeys on her neck were almost gone. It was strangely sad, and she almost wanted to ask Angel to make another one.

Grabbing one of his t-shirts from the bedroom, and putting it on; Nina moved into the living room to look around. The quietness of the morning was almost deafening, but not uncomfortable. Angel’s house was strangely homey, in spite of its macho clutter and the bike-parts on the worktable by the door. She slipped into the kitchen to check for coffee, but came up short. He had a coffeemaker, but no beans. If Angel planned on having her around, that would not fly in the future. She found a can of coke in the fridge, and decided it would have to do as a caffeine-shot for now; before walking back into the living room, sipping her beverage.

There was a picture on a small table by the couch, and Nina sat down; picking it up to look at it. A kind looking woman was holding a baby in her arms and laughing at the camera, while a little boy with dark, expressive eyes had his arms around her neck, and was grinning at the baby. “My mom…”, Angel said. He was standing in the doorway, wearing only a pair of black boxer-briefs, and rubbing his eyes. Nina quickly put down the picture, feeling like she’d been caught touching something sacred. “Sorry”, she muttered. He walked over and picked up the picture. “It’s ok…”, he said, smiling a little at the frame, before setting it down again. He joined her on the couch, and pulled her legs over his thighs, before leaning in for a soft kiss. “She died”. “I’m sorry”. “Me too”, he replied. “It was a hit…”. Nina swallowed thickly. “Because of the club?”, she asked. “Nah… Some other shit. Much older”. She took his hand, and brushed her lips over his knuckles. They were still bruised after his cagefight the night before. “Do you wanna talk about it?”, she asked. He looked at her again, and smiled sadly. “Yeah… Some day. Not now”. Nina knew how that was, and simply nodded.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her fully onto his lap, so that she sat sideways on it. “You’re saying goodbye to your family today…”, he said. His words stung in her heart, but she decided to take the fact with a raised head. “Not all of it. You’ve all taken me in as well”, she said. Angel kissed her shoulder. “Just don’t call me your brother. That’s weird”. Nina grinned at him, and tugged at his beard. “Nah… Papi works…”.

---

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes smut #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc fic #sons of anarchy #ez reyes #chibs telford

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misumeaw-blog · 3 years

Text

13 Days 13 Fanfics | Counting down Albedo’s Birthday

Pairing : Albedo x GN! Reader

Genre : Fluff | Established relationship

Warning : None

Word count : 1,699 words

note : I can die peacefully now, I believe the entire family can hear me screaming. Day 13 will be based on Albedo's mail. I suck at kissing btw, sooo I tried

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Day 12 Moment of Birth Part 1: Midnight

Light from houses in the city of freedom starting to turn into darkness; but not all, liveliest place in the slumbering city in the lake still filled with drunkards and music from the bard. Angel share, is night-active with drinks and socializing drinkers.

You have a meeting with your friends to discuss what to give Albedo for his birthday, Although..

“You guys seriously haven’t kissed yet? It’s been nearly a year”

things seemed going in the completely wrong direction “Shhh quiet please, Captain Kaeya. It’s not a big deal, I understand he wanted to take things slow” Still, there are times where you yearn for more than hugs and pecks on your face.

“Our Chief Alchemist has really taken your advice Too well, Kaeya” Lady in purple attire and a large witch hat, decorated with roses spoke up “That little genius never opened up for this sort of relationship” eyepatch man took another gulp to his mouth “I’m still surprised you managed to make him fall for you”

“Kaeya, rude” lightly zapped the one-eyed captain before turning to you “If he doesn’t make the first step, you’d need to do it” she placed her finger on your lips “Alright, alright, stop everyone” you harsh your friends before things getting out of hand “I just wanted a piece of advice on what to give Albedo for his birthday, so how did this turned to-“ Yup, that sparked your idea.

Both Knights of Favonius glanced at each other then back to you “Do you still need our help?”

The following morning you knocked on the Acting Grand Master’s room “Come in” an assertive voice flew out from the wooden door “Good morning, Master Jean. Do you know where Klee is?” “Good morning, I think she’s by the lake near Wolvendom. Oh and if you’re going to meet her, please make sure she doesn’t explode all the fish” she spoke without looking at you, eyes on massive amounts of paperwork

“One other thing, Acting Grand Master. I would be greatly appreciated if you kindly grant Albedo’s leave on his birthday” you figured your boyfriend might need a day off, in case he wanted to spend time with you and Klee “Oh right, his birthday is approaching” she glanced at the calendar “Yes of course, please do send him my regards if I couldn’t inform him myself” Closing the door after thanking her, ‘alright, off to Wolvendom’ you recalled your plan

Explosions can be heard from afar, the little girl should be nearby. Fish flying out in the sky, big splash easily visible. A small girl in red clothing having fun tossing bombs into stilled water. You called for her and she turned around “Y/N! Klee missed you” red coat sprinting to you, hugging you as soon as you’re in her reach By now she sees you as another sibling, despite you’re actually dating her brother. “Having fun today mh Klee?” glancing at the amount of dead fish on the ground “Yup! The kind uncle at the fishing asso..asso..” “Fishing association?” “Yes! the fishing association told Klee there’s a bunch of new fish all over Mondstadt, Klee will blast them all” You know fishing normally is better for the fish, but you let it slide for her happiness “Hey Klee, I have to borrow your brother the day before his birthday; well, tomorrow, is that alright?” You crouch down to the little girl’s height “Aw, but Klee wanted to be with big brother Albedo..” “I know Klee, but by that time you would be asleep. Would you like to help me prepare snacks for Albedo then?” “Yayy, Klee wanna help!” “Alright, keep it between us m’kay?” Holding out a pinky finger for the young one to hook with hers

‘And to keep Albedo busy..’ You head to the fountain plaza to one of your boyfriend’s assistants, Timaeus. “Morning Timaeus, do you know where Sucrose is?” A bit weird to start a conversation about her, since you and Sucrose don’t really get along “Sucrose? I’m not sure. Do you want me to help find her?” “No, no no no, uh, Timaeus, I need you to help distract Albedo tomorrow, mild difficulty experiment, anything” “Is that all? All Right” Scholar alchemist agreed to lend you a hand “Thanks, Timaeus”

You headed off to your next destination ‘Alright, time for a hard part’ the last part of your plan is rather hard, you wondered if he gonna help you

“Mark it as done!” wow that was.. easy, perhaps it’s because of three high-quality bottles of wine in his hands. You asked.. or rather, hired anemo bard to play songs for the night and extra requested to let the wind carry the song to you.

In the evening, you have scouted the area you wanted to give the alchemist your gift and found the perfect place. An area where you can see both the city of freedom and the icy summit, high enough for the gentle breeze to flow, beautifully decorated with flowers and greenery. Starsnatch cliff, also the home of the flower which held meaning, the truest feelings of prodigal son, Cecilia.

The next day everything went according to plan. Light meal fully prepared with the help of the pyro girl, Timaeus kept Albedo busy so he couldn’t come home and caught you and Klee in action.

Quite late night when you knocked on Alice’s door, the blonde, still in his usual attire opened to greet the unknown guests. “Y/N? What are you doing here this late hour?” Judging from the angle of the moon, it's around 9-10 PM “Hey, what about me?” eyepatch covering male’s hand and he placed his elbow on the opened door, the alchemist only nodded to his presence “Evening Bedo, I would like to show you something, could you come with me please?” you don’t normally use the formal language after being with him for so long. He can sense your shyness from the way you speak and your body language “I’d love to go but Klee..”

You pointed to the man behind you “Don’t worry about little Klee, just go enjoy your time” he basically dragged the alchemist out of his house

Chitchat along the way, fingers intertwined with his “Not sleepy yet aren’t you?” you bent down and look at him in the eyes “Not at all, I’m rather excited about what you prepared for me” giggled to his answer “Good, 'cause the night is still young!” you have reached your destination, Large fabric covering the grassy ground, a basket filled with snacks lies atop, along with a flower vase to decorate the scenery. Log of wood has bags and books resting against it. The wind bringing the scent of white flowers and the tune of the harp. Moon and star shining bright, needlessly of other light sources.

“Didn’t know you had anything romantic in mind” he teased your boldness “..well, what do you think?” hiding your embarrassment and teases the alchemist back

Sitting down to the location you prepared, he started to examine the scene “There’s no musician nearby, nor to any instruments.. Am I the only one hearing the melody?” Trying to find a scientific explanation for a strange event “The wind carries messages. Was music not a kind of message too?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, drowning in the love you gave him

“Enjoying it hmm? Here, I prepared some light food for us” slowly getting plates and snacks out from the weaved basket, the fabric is soon filled with various types of dishes "You’re not gonna sit on your seat?” his arms tightened, head bury to your shoulder “..I don't want to move” it’s rare seeing him clingy to you like this “you’re adorable you know” finally commented on his action

“We got your favorite,” one of your dishes has turned to Albedo’s favorite “These are canapés, I chose bread base, topped with different types of savory” bite-sized dishes, you know he prefers smaller portions

Pointing to each topping one by one, explaining what each one is made of. In his eyes, you’re like a professional chef

“Bedo, check this one out” you pulled out Fisherman’s toast with clover ketchup, onions, cheese, and heart-shaped parleys “..Fish-Flavored Toast, Klee’s specialty. You’re so thoughtful, I have to thank her later” he pecked your cheek, definitely in love

“And we got desserts- after savory alright Bedo?” His hand was already reaching for the dish, you have to stop his fast hand Brownies, Berry Mille-Feuille, and a jar of chocolate chip cookies are all making him drool “Shall we dig in?” He suggested, perhaps the desserts engaging him.

Your hypothesis was turned down after seeing him having a high appetite for savory, you figured he actually wanted to savor your cooking

Hours passed and you both are finally full, cuddling against the wooden log, enjoying the melody floating in the air. His platinum hair reflects the elegant moonlight, half-lidded eyes resting against your neck, handheld on yours. You looked up in the sky- its almost time

“Albedo?” He replied with a sweet hum, glancing up at you “Do you know what day is tomorrow?” “..my birthday. but I still don’t understand why you chose to celebrate it tonight” “Wouldn’t be nicer to receive a gift directly after the clock strikes midnight?” Lifted his chin to face you, he’s so close to you, closer than usual

Both yours and his cheek painted rosy, he cupped your face and look deeply into your eyes. “was all this not my birthday gifts?” “nope.. would you like to find out what it is?”

Moon motions overhead, the clock strikes midnight, soft breeze touched exposed skin, the sound of the harp soaring in the sky. stars as the witness, Cecilia as the oath, feelings as vow sealed between the two bodies.

Hand slide by the side of his neck, placing on the backside and pulled him closer, half-lidded eyes slowly closed, chest-pounding hard, tilted your head to the side a little-

sweet lips finally placed on his loving ones, passionated and full of affection, butterflies flying in your stomach. After a while, you break the timeless kiss

“Happy birthday my beloved Albedo”

#albedo x reader #albedo genshin x reader #albedo x you #albedo x gn reader #13Days13AlbedoFanfics #genshin x you #genshin x gn reader

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iwalc · 3 years

Text

Take me home

Hi people! I hope you are all well! Here is a something I've worked on for a while. Uhm, I realise now that I have never posted anything I've written on here before, so I am a little nervouse, ngl. I've been into a horrible writersblock for over a year now and this is the firt piece I've even been able to finish, which also makes me kind of nervouse. Either way, here it is. I hope you'll like it, and if you do, pls let me know.

Wordcount: around 2500.

I haven't really proofread anything, so if there are anything that's a bit off, then I apologise.

Damn it. I lost. Again. Here I am pissed drunk in a bar, far away from home. Or... what's supposed to be my home. Anger, love, confusion, roads that lead nowhere. As to lately, I don't know what has gotten into me. We all know life's a rollercoaster, ups and downs, downs and ups. This time I wasn't prepared. I've hit the ground. Hard. Everything happened so fast.

Almost a year ago I moved from home. It was sudden but necessary. I got into college in London and saw my opportunity to leave my abusive household. For years the mental abuse had just gradually gotten worse. Although I love my parents to bits, it was not a healthy surrounding and I needed a new perspective. I moved into a small apartment a few minutes from my college. The apartment wasn't really luxurious. But what could I expect with rent that cheap. It was alright. For me at least. Soon after the move classes started. The first few days were rough. A lot of new things, new people, new surroundings and I was all alone. You see, I am not a fan of new things. I'd rather be stuck with everything the same than have the winds of change knock everything I know to pieces. That's what I soon noticed. I didn't recognise anything anymore. Everything was to pieces. I've never felt so lost or scared.

After a while, these strange feelings of insecurity and fear decreased a bit. I started seeing people from my classes. We went to lunches, studied, went out on the weekends. For the first time in a long while it felt like my life was starting to get better. I felt alive, not only like I was just existing. I felt normal. I lived in a large city, in a tiny apartment, barely being able to pay rent, eating fish sticks and whatever else cheap food that Tesco happened to sell out, spending all money on weekends clubbing, listening to bands, laughing, getting shitfaced, having the time of my life.

On one of these nights, I met someone. Someone that would change my life drastically, and thank god it was for the better. It was an ordinary weekend. Me and the girls got ready for a night out, as usual. Only this time we were to meet Angela's boyfriend and his friends. Everyone was crazy excited. I tried to be, but as we have stated before, I'm not doing very well with breaking routines or new things, hence my increasing anxiety. To cut the chase, Angela's boyfriend had nice friends. Especially one of them. Brian. I don't really know what drew me to him. He just seemed so calm and safe. Somewhat on my level. The others, Angela, Jessica and Amanda, were all outgoing girls, finding it easy to talk and meet new people, having no trouble being in the centre of attention. I did not enjoy those types of things. I enjoyed letting others being in the centre of attention and them leading the way. I thrive in the shadows of other people and Brian seemed to be the same way. He was the quiet one, the one in the shadows. But he didn't seem shy. He sat comfortably in the booth, a beer in his hand, listening in to the conversations, taking part in them whenever it was needed. He seemed so calm, safe, secure. Something I craved. He was tall, green, welcoming eyes. Angela sat down beside her boyfriend, Roger, a blonde, seemingly handsome guy. Jessica was called over to Freddie, a dark-haired man, seemingly not afraid to stand in the centre of attention, he was very authentic and expressive. At first, I'd say he'd be a bitch, but he was so nice and welcoming. Such a sweetheart. Amanda sat down between Jessica and John and they got carried away with their conversation pretty quickly.

Me being me, trying to read the room, the new people, anxiously stood there, at the end of the table. My anxiety started to peak at this uncomfortable social situation. I had no idea what to do. I froze. The others seemed engulfed in their conversations and bonding and hadn't noticed my uncomfortable state. But Brian did. He seemed to understand and saw my anxiety. It was amazing how he just knew how to deal with it without scaring me off more. He redirected his attention towards where I stood. He calmly called my name. His voice. I've never ever felt more secure. After a few calls, and his hand gracing mine, I zoned in again and once again became aware of my surroundings. His touch. Warm. Soft. Peaceful. "Hey" he said softly, "would you like to sit down?" he asked as he carefully for a second took a hold of my hand, with me not showing any sign of uncomfort, he carefully guided me to sit down beside him, a soft smile gracing his lips. "I'm so sorry for zoning out like that, thank you" I quietly whispered. He once again took a soft hold of my hand, smiling, "Don't apologise, I understand". Something told me he did understand.

And ever since we met that night, at a pub in Kensington, he has made me feel at home. Safe. Comfortable. My pieces were glued together again. Brian was my everything. He still is. The last few months with him has been filled with such happiness and security I never ever thought I'd experience. I love him to bits. He understands me and my needs like no other. He knows how to take care of my anxiety attacks. He knows how to help me relax. He is my rock in a stormy ocean.

Until today. Earlier today, the pieces he glued together, fell apart, again. Today we moved in together. We figured it would help with our economic situation since we were both students. I mean, we love each other so why not. Well. This is why. I am once again falling apart. My pieces are flying away. I couldn't handle one more change. I've broken up with my family, moved away from home, started college, all in the period of 6 months. It was too much. And now this. I love him. But my world has been picked apart once more.

The whole day I've been feeling my anxiety increasing. Usually, Brian notices or I feel comfortable telling him, but this time I noticed how excited he was, I didn't want to hurt him with my bullshit. It's horrible feeling yourself falling apart but not be able to do anything about it. It was 7 pm and Brian was unpacking things in the living room while I sat on the sofa trying not to lose it. He kept talking about how happy he was and how this was a dream of his. How excited he was to share his life with me, to love me. All the while he was so happy babbling away, I was freaking out. To say the least.

My anxiety kept increasing and now I couldn't handle it anymore. I felt my breathing quickening, my hands and legs started to shake and tears started to stream down my eyes. I couldn't do this. What have I done? "Love? What do you think hanging this here?" Brian asked excitedly holding up a poster on the wall. I couldn't breathe. "Love?" Brian asked before he turned around. My knees were up to my chin, hands holding them in place, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down my eyes. Brian was shocked to see me in this state of mind but wasted no time. He hurried up to me on the sofa. He sat down on his knees in front of me, his hands on my cheeks. "Love, look at me" he pleaded with a calm voice. "Love" he said, more firmly this time. "Shh you're okay, love, I got you" he said as I lifted my head to look at him. I was frightened. His beautiful, angelic face that earlier always brought me peace and comfort were now triggering my anxiety. I ran. I ran out of the apartment, down the staircase and out of the building. Before leaving the building I heard Brian calling my name, running after me.

That's where I am right now. I ran to a pub, the pub we met at. I'm drunk. Anger, love, confusion, roads that lead nowhere. As to lately, I don't know what has gotten into me. We all know life's a rollercoaster, ups and downs, downs and ups. This time I wasn't prepared. I've hit the ground. Hard. Everything happened so fast. Wrapped up so consumed by all this confusion. With every thought I down a beer. "Could I get another one pls?" I slurred to the bartender. But no. No way I was going to drink more tonight. I don't know if it was intentional or not to go to the only pub in London where I'm recognisable since we go there all the time. Maybe I wanted to be found. The bartender declined and then went through a doorway to the kitchen. I heard him talking on the phone. He was talking about me. More than that I couldn't recognise and soon after my head hit the table and I was out.

I woke up in a bed. It took some time to locate where I was, but soon I noticed I was in our apartment. My head was killing me along with the anxiety and guilt. What the hell happened. I had no idea.

Soon enough Brian entered the room. I couldn't do anything. I barely dared to look at him. He looked exhausted. And there was something else, it shocked me that I couldn't decipher what it was.

"Hi" he calmly said as he strode to my side of the bed and set down a glass of water and aspirin.

"Hi" I vaguely answered.

The silence took over the room. I barely dared to move but did to take my aspirin and drink some well-needed water. Not letting my eyes of Brian, I watched as his tall body sat down on the side of the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he calmly asked as his hand strode closer to me but he didn't dare to touch me, probably confused by my signals yesterday.

I met him halfway and took a hold of his large and warm hand. As soon as he felt my hand on his he held mine tighter and let out a breath I didn't know he was holding.

"I don't know how to answer that" you answered honestly.

Brian hummed and stroked my hand with his thumb, looking at our locked hands.

"You scared me" he whispered. Tears threatening to leave his eyes.

That hurt.

"I'm so sorry" I panicked and sat up, only to regret it as my head almost pounded you dead. "Ow," I winced as my free hand went to hold my forehead.

"Careful" Brian voiced as calmly as ever. His eyes scanned around the room, trying to muster the courage for what he was to say next. He cleared his throat. "Can we talk about what happened?" he almost whispered, taking my hand in both of his, stroking it with his thumbs.

Of course, he wants to talk about it. There is nothing strange about that. However, I rather not. What am I supposed to say? That I panicked, that his face suddenly made me uneasy? That... I don't know. Suddenly I felt his hand upon my cheek. I must've zoned out.

"hey, it's alright"

I let out a loud sigh, catching Brians attention. "Brian, it is not alright. I'm a mess. What I did wasn't alright." Tears were now streaming down my cheeks. Burning like fire. Brians weight shifted as he crawled onto the bed, laying down behind me, embracing me like never before. His arms around my aching stomach and my arms. His leg over mine. His chin in the crook of my neck, whispering calming sentences while my tears shook my body. His body warming mine. It's always so calming.

How can I be so damn lucky? I ran away from home, from my love, I got piss drunk at a pub, and still, he took me home, taking care of me, holding me, loving me like no other. It's suffocating in the best way.

The tears calmed down. "Brian, I want to come home", I sniffed, crampingly grabbing onto his large, warm hand. "I'm hurting. I'm so lost. Confused. Angry." the tears were now rapidly streaming down my face again as I poured my aching heart out. "I really had to get away from home to live my life, to get better. When I first got here I felt cheated. It was so hard and I've never been worse my whole life. I've never felt more alone, left out, beaten up." I kept rambling on. "I know, love, I know." Brian cooed into my neck, stroking my arm. "But you don't Brian. I can't seem to find my way home. I'm so lost." I said as tears wrecked my body. Brian, holding me, securing me, hushing me, whispering sweet things. "I don't even know how you put up with me. I'm so broken. I came to you with a broken faith, and you gave me more than a hand to hold." The first time I voiced my fear and insecurity about how Brian feel about me. I'm so scared he'll leave me. He's all I've got. "Love, shh, It's ok. Hey, listen to me." he started as he turned me so I could look at him. "I understand that you feel like you're lost, I really do. Everything you've ever known has changed in less than a year. Space will eventually make it better, time will make it heal, and soon enough you won't feel like you're haunted. You won't be lost forever!" He praised as his hand stroked my cheek. Emphasizing the last sentence. I won't be lost forever.

"I'm so scared Brian"

"I know baby" he embraced me, "I know."

"I need you, Brian, don't leave me please, you're all I've got." I cried into his chest.

"Baby I won't. I never could. I love you! I will hold you. I will take you home. I'll be here every step of the way. I'll be your home." He said as my body once more broke down in tears.

I know there must be somewhere better because he always takes me there. Maybe I've found my home. I think he's my home.

#brian may #brian may angst #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may x reader fluff #brian may fluff #take me home

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Contract Killer.”

Hope you guys have a great day!

The room smelled horrible, though that would only be readily noticed by those species that had any acute sense of smell. Though for most everyone, that fact went largely unnoticed, or if it was noticed, the occupants of the room didn’t really care. The walls of the cramped room were lined in rust streaked metal, and large metal crates served as tables and chairs for the assortment of rough and tumble visitors who graced the blackmarket under A136. Human music rolled through the room as a constant background to the din as a beautiful, but rough and tumble woman sang a mournful sea shanty about an astronaut blasted out the airlock freezing to death in his space suit as he looked on at the beauty of the universe.

At the bar two tall Drev bartenders used all four of their hands to prepare drinks for their waiting customers ranging anywhere from, Human, to Kree, to Celzex. Rockus laughter filtered up into the air as men and women gambled with ten sided dice,, and strange glowing chips. The floor below their feet was stained and mottled with unknown substances which had likely never seen mop. When they moved it wasn’t uncommon for them to flash mechanical enhancements, a hand here, or an eye there, some clearly lost to accidents, others…. Perhaps replaced on purpose.

In the throng it wasn’t even uncommon to see alien/human couples blatantly and proudly interacting with one another without garnering so much as a sideways glance from those around them

Drinks poured, staining the bar till the metal rusted and the wood ran dark.

At the side of the room a table sat raised slightly away from the others surrounded by stained and rotting curtains, and at that table sat A Drev. The armor she wore was half Drev and half of medieval human make. One of his shoulders was covered with a metal pauldron and armor that went all the way down one arm. Leather straps criss-crossed her chest. Next to her sat a woman, with beautiful, wavy, honey-blonde hair and bright red lips. She wore mostly black, and a long leather coat.

When she leaned back she rested her large boots on the table spinning a playing card between two fingers.

The Drev looked on into the crowd, her eyes scanning over the people that thronged before her, people and aliens alike, an unwashed mass, looking and waiting for her target, and AH, there he is, just the person she had been told to expect.

He was tall, though the clothing he wore blended so seamlessly into the crowd, he wouldn't have garnered much attention, especially not here.

He wore a dark brown jacket with a grey cowl pulled low over his face. He kept his head down, though she noted the slight bulge at either hip where he likely concealed two weapons.

Which he reached forward, she saw the glittering of a metal gauntlet, either that or a metal hand.

On his shoulder rode a furry little Celzex, though it’s once bright fur had been stained mostly grey and black, probably from some horrible accident.

Beside her Beatrice leaned forward, her red lips parting in a smile, “That him?”

“Yes it appears it is.”

She went to stand, but the Drev pushed her back down, “I already have men on it.”

Beatriss frowned, her full red lips puckering down into a pout, “You never let me have any fun.”

“There will be time for you, yet.”

They watched as the figure pushed his way through the crowd and took a seat at the back of the room. Without, it seemed, any prompting a waitress scurried form the darkness and set a drink down before him. Credits exchanged as the woman vanished back into the crowd.

Two fingers moved forward from the edge of the room, pushing their way through the crowd.

They would have been impossible to pick from the crowd if it wasn’t for their purposeful strides forward.

The figure took a sip from his drink, only the bottom of his chin visible under the hood and part of his right cheek covered in a mechanical mask.

Behind him, the two figures had moved into position. One man reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder, but fast as a striking snake the stranger grabbed the man by the arm tugged him forward and slammed his head painfully into the tabletop knocking him cold almost immediately before snapping to the side blocking a punch by the second man, and then elbowing him directly in the throat.

The two men hit the ground in seconds.

“Not bad.” The Drev muttered in open admiration, and Beatrice looked up at her with an open expression of jealousy. The Drev smiled slightly, the corners of her mouth turning up in the familiar human expression. She liked when Beatrice got jealous.

The sudden brawl had hardly stopped the debauchery taking place around the rest of the room . That was until the Drev, Jeea, rose to her feet and clapped once.

All around her, the entire room seemed to part like the red sea, and at the very end of that part was the man and the two prone bodies.

He did not flinch, barely even seemed surprised as he stood, and walked into the center of the room.

“We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.”

The man raised his hands, “That depends entirely on you Jeea.” his Drev accent was impeccable, that surprised her.

“Captain Kall, your skills as a warrior impress me,”

The man smiled under his hood, “Than you are easily impressed.”

Jeea snorted slightly, “Come, sit.”

He hummed deep in his chest, not dissimilar to the sound of pleasure so common among her people, “Pity, I was so looking forward to the hard way.”

She waved the otters away, and the music began to play again as the man crossed the room and slid into the booth next to her and Beatrice: who was still pouting, her arms crossed, two long knives held in either hand.

Geea leaned forward and took a better look at the man, with half his mechanical face, mechanical hand and plunging hood.

“You don’t make yourself as difficult to find as I would have assumed.”

He leaned back in his chair as his Celzex companion hopped onto the table. Beatrice ed it with some measure of malice, but even she knew not to mess with a Celzex. It was more than likely the thing had friends, and if it had friends, it also had pirated Celzex weapons.

“Kall…. That is a Vrul name isn’t it.”

The man shrugged, “Could be, though I thought Vrul names tended to have five letters and not four.”

Geea grunted, either way, “Your reputation precedes you, Captain, which is strange considering you haven’t been on our radar long.”

THe man waved over the waitress for another drink, “I make it a habit of keeping off people’s Radar, but you would know all about that.” he glanced around at the bar, “Aren't you concerned that holding operations here will get you noticed by the GA? Last I heard the UNSC had done some operations on this planet.”

Beatrice snorted.

Geea shook her head, “A day long visit by the UNSC’s favorite pet Admiral hardly counts.”

Beatrice spat at the floor making a face, “The GA’s little pet, i would like to cut off h-”

Geea held up a hand, “Now, now Beatrice, it’s not the Admiral we are angry with. He is simply a figurehead, a representation of everything that is wrong with the GA. As far as I know he isn’t so horrible.” She reached out a hand and placed it atop the other woman’s, “He did advocate for a cause near and dear to our hearts.”

Beatrice Made a face, “Still don’t like him.”

The man across from them shifted in his seat, “I hardly see what this has to do with me. Me and my crew try to keep a low profile. GA or Anti-alliance doesn't matter either way. We just want to make money and keep to ourselves.”

“And is piracy generally part of keeping a low profile?”

The man crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, “I would hardly consider it piracy…. I like to think of it as…. Liberating materials already doomed to be misused.”

“That sounds like piracy but with more steps.” Beatrice muttered.

Geea held up a hand, “No need to get defensive here friend. It’s not like the rest of us are law abiding citizens.” A couple more waiters and waitresses moved forward to refill their drinks, one of them trailing her hand suggestively across the captain’s shoulders.

“We are just here to speak to you, and maybe hire your crew.”

Captain Kell leaned forward slightly in his seat, the mechanical face plate glittering in the light above, “Alright, and what is this job of yours.”

“I want you to Kill Admiral Vir.”

There was a pause the silence between them filled with the rolling conversation from the rest of the room.

“You want me to what!”

“You heard me clearly the first time.”

The man stood nearly tipping over his chair in the process, “That’s it, this conversation is over.”

Beatrice grabbed him by the arm and forced him roughly back into his seat. At That moment, the people sitting at the nearest tables turned around, throwing back their coats to reveal large, and surely illegal submachine guns.

Captain Kell took a seat, hands raised slightly.

Geea leaned forward, “Just hear us out.”

“I’m not a hitman or a mercenary. And the last thing I want to do is put that kind of heat on my people especially not Admiral Fucking Vir, do you think I am insane! I’ve never even done that sort of job. I steal shit, that’s it. I am no killer.”

Geea waited for the man to finish his little tantrum before she continued, “And that is precisely my point isn’t it. No one knows who you are, no one knows who your ship is. In fact, your ship doesn't have a beacon, which means you are not properly registered with the UNSC or the GA, meaning that they cannot track, find or know where you are.” Captain kell began to laugh, “Are you fucking serious. Killing him while he is on-world is one thing, but killing him while he is off-world is a completely different can of worms. You would have to be able to board his ship, the motherfuking OMEN, the most advanced spaceship known to man or alien with Celzex weapons, and Vrul shields. Oh yeah, and let’s not forget that he has an entire fucking clan of Drev onboard, a shitload of marines, oh and lets not forget one of those drev is a SAINT.”

Geea leaned forward, “Someone does their homework.”

Captain Kell laughed, “Does my homework, more like reads the news. He’s got the media crawling up his ass half the time. If it isn't a picture of his dumbass on a magazine cover, than its a viral video of some asshole marine on his crew showing off all the dumb stuff they get to do onboard.”

“See, that is exactly the sort of thinking we need, and we know your ship. We know it has the most advanced boarding capabilities in the known universe regardless of whether you are trying to hide that fact or not. If anyone can board his ship and take care of his men, then it’s you.” She pointed at the Celzex on the table, “Powerful friends, and with our help, I have no doubt that we could do it.

He shook his head emphatically and crossed his arms over his chest, “I don’t understand, I thought you said earlier that you liked him. He did help the LFIL.” he glanced between the two of them suddenly unsure that he had read them correctly. He had, but she did enjoy watching him squirm.

“I like the man as a person. He honestly does seem like a nice guy, funny, charming, awkward in an endearing way. But this isn't about my personal feeling of the man, this is about my beliefs as a Drev, this is…. Political, and sometimes good people have to go to make way for something better.”

Captain Kell held out his hands, “I guess I just don’t see your vision, business is going very well for me right now. I doubt I would profit from the collapse of the GA. I can really only see this getting worse for me.”

Geea frowned, “The GA has taken over my homeworld to mine our holy battlegrounds. It has taken away the traditions of my people.”

“Didn’t the traditions of your people recently change.”

Behind them, the room had sprouted into a rocus crowd of dancers as the woman began singing about the queen of Pirates.

Geea crossed her arms, “This isn’t about the saint, she is doing what she can for our Drev in the way she believes is best, but I believe there is a better way. I will follow her religious traditions as I believe in the old ways, but I also believe that our home planet should not have been desecrated by the GA in the first place.” She waved a hand around the room, “The GA has too much power and far to much influence, one of these days the idea of a democracy is going to fade away until they take all the ower for themselves, and, I for one, will not be ruled by a tyrant.”

Captain Kell didn’t seem impressed by her argument, “The GA has existed as a democratic republic since long before the Drev and the humans were involved. What makes you think that they are going to change so rapidly.”

“Because I know humans.”

Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could almost guess at the slight raise of his eyebrow, “Oh really, you know humans do you? How fascinating, tell me more.”

Beatrice snorted.

Geea glowered at him.

Beatrice smiled “Se not wrong.” She grinned slyly, “She really does KNOW humans rather well.”

Kell tapped his fingers on the table, “Knowing someone in the biblical sense is hardly knowing humans. Admiral Vir is likely helping to keep the democratic nature of the GA against humans and otters who might try to change that, so forgive me if I See nothing good that can come of this.” He stood again this time doing his best to ignore the armed men and women on the next table over.

“How about enough money for you and your to retire to a small moon on the other side of the galaxy.” he paused and turned to look at her.

“And I should believe you because?”

Beatrice reached under her chair and pulled out a holopad sliding it across the table so he could see, “Take a look for yourself, Half of that upfront, and then half after we take out Vir, payment drops if you hurt the Saint.”

Eyes still obscured, she had trouble seeing his face, but after a moment he nodded, “Alright, I can take you up on that offer, but if you fuck us over, I will make you reget it.” he turned to look at her one last time, “Meet me at the dock when you’re ready. If I am going to do this, you better be damn straight that I am not going to do it alone.

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