#i wish i could put into words how much indigo means to me

[rustedhearts]

trouble (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)

summary: the morning after a fight brings comfort and longing to you and steve.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1989) ✶ main masterlist

tags: angry!steve again :); violence; verbal argument; angst; hurt/comfort; I did not edit this so ignore any mistakes.

hawkins, indiana. september 1990.

The dawn was quiet. Soft: a blended stroke of amber through pale blue across the sky. The interruption of tree limbs came with bright yellow leaves, changed by the cool breeze and autumnal warning. Somewhere beyond the glass you peered through, a crow cawed. In the parking lot below, a car engine shuddered alive.

The dawn was quiet, but the dusk was deafening.

The hiss and click of Steve’s lighter caused you to turn your head. And there he was: rolling into a seated position on the edge of the bed, dipping the mattress with shifted weight. In the swirl of blended lights, his bare back still held the tint of a late summer bronze. Speckled with beauty spots and the indigo, spiderwebbed haloes of burst blood vessels. Bruises from fights he never lost, but fights you wished he wouldn’t pick. The familiar haze of cigarette smoke settled into the room, paired with the potent tobacco sent you’d come to know all too well.

“What do you expect of me, huh? I’m not some fuckin’ punk, Libby, I won’t put up with that shit.”

“I’m not asking you to! But you didn’t need to do that—you don’t need to fight everyone!”

Steve’s shoulders hunched with exhaustion, hands slow to pull the cigarette away. A steady plume of smoke exhumed from his lips toward the bedroom door. His sheets were soft around your body, recently washed this past weekend. You’d spent those two days tangled together in the confines of this tiny apartment, enraptured with each other. The past few months felt like a lifetime. You latched onto each other like magnets, and now you couldn’t let go.

Not even when he broke your heart.

“Jesus, you need to stop pretending you’re such a fuckin' saint.

“You need to stop acting like I’m the bad guy for calling you out.”

Steve’s legs swished over the sheets, cotton rustling with the strained shift of his body in an attempt to straighten his posture. The flex of muscles came with a visible wince, a quiet hiss he hoped you were too unconscious to hear. Even with your alertness unbeknownst to him, he did his best to hide his sounds. Always the tough guy, always the man. He could never be soft, never gentle or real. Pain was weakness.

His hand came to cradle the welt festering on his ribs, but it twitched away to rub his eyes. You knew a migraine must’ve been collecting behind them and pounding in his head. He took another drag of his Marlboro and sighed it out.

“Because it’s me, right? I’m the bad guy? If you’re so embarrassed to be with me, why are you?”

“I’m not embarrassed to be with you, Steve. God, don’t you know how much I care about you?”

“Don’t you see that’s what this is all about? I mean—fuck’s sake, never-mind.”

Gently stirring, you turned onto your side away from the window, toward Steve. His profile appeared when he moved his head an inch; the bridge of his nose swollen and pink. His lashes fluttered in acknowledgement for your consciousness. His cheeks hollowed around the cigarette again, and the smoke streamed out of his nose. You tucked your hand beneath your cheek and watched him quietly.

Neither speaking a word, but both waiting.

“No, talk to me. Say what you actually fucking mean for once, please! But don’t you dare say you did this for me.”

“Then who the fuck do you think I did it for? All I want is to protect you. It’s—“

“All you do is fight! You can protect me without being so violent.”

“That’s who I am, honey. If you don’t like it, then fucking leave.”

You knew somewhere in the parking lot lied the contents of your purse, burst open by the impact of it hitting Steve’s back in a moment of blind rage when he just wouldn’t listen. Steve only ever saw things his way. He couldn’t understand that maybe you just wanted him to be okay. Maybe you just didn’t want to see him lose himself to the rush of another beating, or more blood and bruises and broken bones.

The coolness blowing outside settled into the room, seeping through the windows and cracks. You slid a little closer to the warmth of his body. Reaching out, letting your finger skate down his spine. His skin was soft, sprinkled with dark hair. His breathing stopped for just a minute at the delicacy of your touch.

“So that’s it? You’d rather throw this away than actually hear what I’m saying; than actually talk to me? Sometimes I wonder if you really wanna be with me, Steve, or if I’m just a pastime until your career takes off.”

“Are you—Jesus, it’s like you’re fuckin' blind. Don’t you see? Don’t you see that—“

“What? What? All I see is you getting into fights!”

“For you! I’m fighting for you, for fuck’s sake! To know you’re okay, to know you’re safe, to know you’re mine.”

Before Steve, you’d never known violence like this. You’ve been audience to few fights in your life, most childish and broken apart by school faculty. Boys rumbled behind the football field, shoved each other into lockers on the way back from gym. Once, a girl slapped another girl for stealing her boyfriend, but by the next week they were over it. It wasn’t until Steve came into your life that you knew how badly someone could bleed; how heavy hits could feel from the sidelines. How loud an uppercut was. How bad a rib could bruise, how much a nose could gush. How easily skin ripped apart.

Bottles shattered on the sidewalk, bar stools splintered by the weight of a grown man’s body. The gurgle of liquor spilling over the floor. The sputter of a mouth against a windpipe being squeezed. What it sounded like for someone to lose their two front teeth in the time it took to blink.

“This is the only way I know how to tell you how much I—that I—that I want—“

“Why can’t you say it, Steve? Hmm? Just look at me and say it.”

You could still see his face, eye swollen by a tattooed fist from the corner of the bar twenty minutes prior. Eyes welling, cheeks flushed pink, hands still balled together at his sides, black cotton tee soaked in beer and sweat. The night was cool and dark and everything blurred around Steve.

Even with your heart still racing from the fight he started, it wept only for Steve. It ached for him entirely.

“Don’t you know, angel?”

Pressing up on your palm, you closed the gap between your bodies on the bed. The sheets went with you, twisting around your thighs and waist as you pressed against his back. The smooth firmness of it was a welcome feeling. The warmth eased the stiffness in your limbs, arms circling around his middle to rid of any distance. Cheek against his shoulder, lip buried in his flesh, inhaling the musk of his bareness.

Steve sighed another stuttered breath.

“Know what, Steve?”

“That you’re mine. It’s me and you, and that’s how I want it to always be. Do you…don’t you want that?”

With the cigarette dangling from the corner of his lip, Steve slid his hand over your yours against his chest. Grateful for your touch, delighted by your smell. He let his head press back against your shoulder, and his eyes sink shut. He breathed in the sweetness of your recent slumber. He felt the warmth of your thighs, squeezing around his hips. Your lips left the softest wet ring on his skin, cooled by the breeze.

“I’m scared.”

You nuzzled your nose against his shoulder, exhaling a deep breath into his skin. You never wanted to be further from him than this, and you could’ve stayed there forever. Listening to each other’s heartbeats, containing each other’s bodies.

“Scared o’ what, baby? Don’t be scared.”

The crow cawed again. Another engine grumbled and faded into its morning route. A door slammed down the hall. The acidic stench of someone’s coffee seeped through the wall. Marlboro smoke tickled your nose, settled into your hair. His hand was rough around yours, skin callused and tough.

“M’ scared I’ll lose you. Trouble follows you wherever you go, and I…I’m worried it’ll get the best of you.”

His thumb rubbed gentle, mindless shapes into the back of your hand. You brought your chin to rest on his back, nose brushing the dark hair at the nape of his neck. It smelled like sweat, pillow-case-laundry-soap, and Steve.

And Steve always smelled like blood.

"You won't. You won't, baby—c'mon, don't cry."

Cigarette perched between his lips, held steady by that strong jaw, Steve raised a hand and searched behind him. His fingers grazed your hair, sweeping in a downward motion to stroke the back of your head and hold you close. He cupped your skull, pressed until your forehead met his own. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and inhaled.

He never wanted to forget this feeling.

You drove home in silence last night. The rumble of his Harley deafening, your grip around his torso tight and unrelenting. The argument found second life in the complex parking lot, where more than one neighbor threatened to call the cops if you didn't keep it down. Steve directed the screaming toward them. You just wanted him to talk to you, to listen to you; to stop letting his fists do all the explaining.

Steve was quick to knock someone out for wolf-whistling, swift to blacken eyes for glancing your way too long—but when it came to telling you how he truly felt, he shut down. When it came to reassuring your worries, he became a stoic statue.

You crawled into bed heavy with exhaustion, peeled free of clothes and begrudgingly covered in your favorite of Steve's t-shirts: big, crisp white cotton, patterned with his favorite football team. It smelled like his cologne and a cigarette smoked on the balcony.

Turned separate ways, staring at opposite spaces of darkness, feeling anger and regret fizzle in your chests.

"I hate fighting with you."

"Me, too."

But something curdled around that raging, guilty fizzle. Something tender and achey, weepy like an open wound pulsing life. Something sweet and sweeping. Something unlike either of you had ever felt before.

Something like...love.

"We don't have t' fight."

Love bruised. Love sliced. Love terrified the pair of you equally; chilled you right down to the bone.

One of you terrified to love something so gentle and beautiful, so bright and wonderful.

The other terrified to love something so cruel, so boorish and cold.

"Yes we do."

Lifting your chin, you tipped your head aside to get a peek at Steve's face. Blank, but peaceful, he fell still with steady breath. You ran the side of your finger down his cheek gently, stroking the skin where stubble collected. His eyes peeped open, lashes brushing his brows where they furrowed contemplatively.

He gave you a moment to continue your stroking ministrations before turning his head aside. You passed him a lazy smile, noses brushing. His hand traveled to your thigh, rubbing the pudgy flesh appreciatively. You squeezed around him a little tighter. He inched his head a little closer. His breath tickled your lips. His cigarette was the size of a half-bitten stick of gum in his other hand. The ashes collected on the shag carpet, a few decades old. At this proximity, you could see all the different flecks of colors in his eyes.

There was nothing scary about him, or that weepy feeling in your chest.

"Eggs or pancakes?" you asked.

Steve inhaled, bringing the butt of the cigarette to his mouth for one last drag. It burned against your mouth. "Pancakes."

He smoked his second cigarette at the table, tapping his ashes into a porcelain mug and watching you flip pancakes in his shirt with a silent brood. He took his stack of pancakes with a kiss, deep and tender and full of tongue. He tugged you into his lap and fed you bites off his fork.

He spent the afternoon alternating his hand and head between your legs.

And when the sun went down, he took you to the Harley with his arm around your waist. He collected your strewn items from the asphalt and shoved them back into your purse, leaving the broken zipper open with a promise to replace. You swung your leg over the Harley seat and wound your arms around his waist.

You waited for the next moment he'd turn his words into fists.

#rolly! #boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #joe keery #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington hurt/comfort #boxer!steve #steve harrington fic #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery fic

[holdinbacksecrets]

fuck i should be sleeping it's 1am and my exams are in 8hrs but i need to get this out of my system.

these days I'm realizing how much i miss bts, like really, their older stuff just hit so hard, everything up till mots7, and I'm just feeling so much nostalgia? I was 15 when i first discovered them, I'm turning 22 in a few days and it's insane to me how they've been in the most broken part of my life and just idk, bts man.

I wish I could express more about it but I just can't put it into words, looking at their discography and how it perfectly aligns with my heart and my experience, how I just UNDERSTAND IT, not just vibe, it just makes me wanna cry. And to think that SVT are slowly becoming that for me but more with their personalities than their music? I mean yeah definitely, SVT's discography is flawless but it's just so different than BTS's and they both cater to my taste in different ways. I just love them.

I know you'd get it since they're your faves too, sorry for the long rant. gn 🖤

hello friend. i hope your exams went well!!

i definitely get what you��re saying. for me, it’s slightly different because i didn’t get into kpop until 2020. in another way it’s hard: bts’ older music is what made me a fan, and i struggle with missing so many eras in real time. luckily, there are tracks off be i really like, but the feelings they create are not comparable to what tear (for example) does for me. although, i do really fucking love stay and blue & grey

i’m glad you were able to witness past eras as they were happening and hold those memories. it’s fascinating how music intertwines with our lives and ends up serving as reminders for experiences. at the same time, it also helps us get through absolute shit.

personality wise, i definitely feel much more connected to seventeen. however, i can’t say i prefer one group over the other in terms of music. i feel like their discographies impact me in different ways. i feel the same way about monsta x and nct. each group has songs that are literally heaven to me.

i have so many thoughts on this subject, but i’m not sure if i’m successfully putting them into words. what i will say is that i can imagine how hard it is for you to miss bts’ older music. tracks that join you during times of darkness end up being deeply cherished, imo. i truly hope future releases from bts will feel the same way debut-mots7 tracks do.

what were your thoughts on indigo and jitb? did any of those songs feel right to you? my expectations for indigo were high, but none of the tracks hit me like mono tracks did and still do. i only listened to the album once. it might be worth circling back around to, but usually if they don’t get me right off the bat, they never will. luckily, there are songs off jitb i really love (equal sign and safety zone). there’s something about hoseok’s music… maybe it’s the aquarius energy we share lol— i see him

#s talks #eboni✨ #sadkidwarexpert

[the-travelling-witch]

guess who's alive? exactly, me!! :D *slumps down and never gets up* (sorry in advance this will be quite the long ask >_<)

i get the feeling of fried brain, my session just finished ;-; #neveragain (wish i could say it for real tho) it's not a problem if you can't add much ahah, really, so don't worry :3

i feel you, my rbf isn't of any help but luckily those who receive my love know it and about the rest i don't care °v° and as i said (i think) as long as you're genuine i don't think that's a problem, honestly is what matters ^u^

yeah i noticed the game and noticed only now i forgot to ask you a question but now head is empty so whatever 🫠 if you say so then brb gonna go buy pencils for xiao and you so you can fill each other's skin with drawings and writings eheh~

me too honestly, i just need to relax, eat good food and sleep for hours trapping the indigo menace in a cuddling hug >:3 for movies i'm down bad for pixar but indie and artsy sounds good too 👀 and slow dancing at night is just something sooo cute and sosksiskdjsjskwj i'm down bad pt2

we can agree that villainous fictional men >>>>>>>>> goody two-shoes hero, but morally grey characters deserve a mention of honor, a whole hall just for them @^@

NOW, ONTO THE NEW MODERN SERIES FIC FUCK I'M SO EIDJWKSNDKWJWOSJSIHS

childe you cocky little menace with that shit-eating grin 🤺 i love this type of grin it sends me on cloud nine but also actives my fighting spirit lmao

i loved every word and the implicit mention of scara's partner and childe's being colleagues, what a chaos putting those two in the same room because of their lovers (saw the other asks, died of laughter)

it had me going 👀 when reader went "one coffee for the mystery man" LIKE MAN THE AUDACITY i would have prayed the universe to swallow me especially after ginger's reply folsdoodsj so good really

also, a curiosity: since you mentioned yanqing (my son <3) does this mean that gi and hsr men will interact more often, being in the same universe? tbh knowing some characters either they will get along well or a big fight would start the moment they see each other pfft-

anyway, i think that i covered everything so that's all! as always, take care, drink water and coffee, eat healthy and sleep well at night, you can do this! and good luck with uni :3

bye bye~

— ❄️

hii great to see you back and good job on surviving!! i’ll put the answer under a cut for brevity’s sake haha

well i hope i sound and look genuine bc sometimes i feel like i don’t and if i try to sound more excited, people would probably think i’m faking it; but yeah my friends probably know by now how i act so i think i should be good :>

don’t force yourself to participate if you can’t come up with something, i promise i still have enough material to go through (me, typing a novel for a moot’s entry /aff); whenever i doodle on my arm i normally just use ball point pens or eyeliners but i also saw people using like actual colours for painting/body paint and i really want to try that; having someone drag a brush and paint over your back must be such a funny feeling <3

i’m not watching a lot of films right now, so i can’t say what my favourite genre is but i do love a good animation (i still need to see the new spiderman aaahhh); speaking of going to the cinema: there’s sth so special about going there during daytime and coming back out when it’s dark outside; imagine walking home after the film with your fave, he gives you his jacket against the chill of the evening and you laugh and joke as you discuss the film you just saw until he gently grabs your hand and starts twirling you around under the light of a street lamp… *sigh* what a dream (frantically scribbles into my notes for the modern au hshsh)

i just think villains and morally grey characters just are much more fun to explore; would i want hazbin hotel’s alastor to be real or would i like him if i met him? no because he is/was a serial killer, but in fiction? fascinating, intriguing, fun to explore; fiction just gives us the means to explore these morally not so cool actions and mindsets without most of the consequences, and i love that (also it really is sexy if a bad guy drops everything for their love; who wouldn’t want to be their partner’s priority; also also, villains with their own set of moral code, like ‘sure i’ll burn down a city but hit a woman? i would never’)

childe activates my fighting spirit in general, like come over here and let’s bicker, you gorgeous idiot, and maybe i’ll kiss you afterwards <3 and also yes that grin… it might be here bc of the writer’s bias…

i just had to make them colleagues!! please just imagine them gossiping about their bfs after work or during the double date the readers are just talking the night away whereas childe and scara just have this icy atmosphere around them, but the second their partners look over they melt bc they’re just so in love dorks, all of them

and omg yes, thank you for mentioning it, i’ve been dying for someone to point it out: it’s official, it’s a genshin/honkai shared au!! it’ll be mostly genshin with some hsr characters but yes!! they’re sharing the same universe, they will be interacting (now we wait for someone to mention the company vizion is signed under… i wonder who works there… /silly)

thank you, make sure to take care of yourself as well!! <3

#┊✩彡 divine correspondence ♡ #┊✩彡 cherished guests ♡ #┊✩彡 letter from — ❄️ anon ♡ #hey tumblr stop deleting my tags #i’m not keen on redoing them all the time #┊holly’s modern au ✩彡

[love-in-the-time]

The New Caesar Part 5: Ten/Donna, rated M for language, sex and violence

Title: The New Caesar Part 5 Author: love-in-the-time Rating: M for sex, violence, and language Summary: After disastrous confrontations with Cesare, the Doctor and Donna determine not to be separated or alone with Cesare again. The Andromedans send an ambassador to Cesare's court.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Donna awoke a little after seven AM, blinking at the shaft of light coming in from the one window the Doctor is keeping watch at. He looks up at her and smiles. "Morning," he says.

"Morning." Donna yawns, covering her face with her hands. "No one's come to stab us in the night so I suppose we did all right."

"No one's gonna hurt you," he tells her, and he means it. He opens one more curtain and the morning sun paints Donna in wash of light, her red hair glinting like copper in the sun.

"Anything happen while I was asleep?" Donna asks. She grimaces. "I wish I could brush my teeth."

"Two men arrived in the night," the Doctor said. "About three thirty in the morning. Couldn't tell who was who, but one had half his face covered in a mask or a bandage. I suspect they were summoned, because of the hour."

Donna shrugs. The Doctor reaches inside his coat and rummages around, producing a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, and a bottle of water. Donna shakes her head. "I knew it. Thank you," she says, reaching for them. "I don't know how people dealt with it."

She eases herself out of the bed and stretches in the morning light. "Did I sleep long?"

"Four hours," the Doctor says. "It's a bit after seven."

"Well, no one's brought us breakfast or killed us," Donna shrugs. "We're all right for now." She goes to the window and proceeds to brush her teeth, rinsing her mouth and spitting the water into the garden below.

They converse quietly between themselves until a knock comes at the door. The Doctor is on his feet in a flash and opens the door slowly, guardedly. In the hallway is another of Vannozza's smooth, anonymous maids, holding a basket. "The lady Vanozza has asked me to dress your wife," the girl says, and the Doctor takes the basket from her.

"We'll manage ourselves," he tells the young woman, who puts a hand out to bar the door from closing.

"No," she says. "I will manage myself." She moves past the Doctor into the room, and gives a small, shallow curtsey to Donna. "Lady Vannozza has sent me to you. She wishes you to be properly dressed to break your fast and meet with our guests."

"Guests?" Donna says, and doesn't get much further before the maid begins to gather the glorious blue dress from the night before. "I didn't know you girls could speak," Donna says next, but gets no response from the maid. From the basket the maid extracts a fresh set of stays, a linen chemise that is so thin as to be translucent, edged with exquisite French lace, and a gown of indigo with delicate floral ribbons striping the bodice and skirt.

The Doctor crosses his arms as the maid silently dresses Donna from top to bottom, watching Donna transform into a lady, but watching the maid to be sure she isn't a threat. The maid maneuvers her into the gown and brushes through her hair, Donna glowering at the silver mirror while she does. She submits to the dressing since she has no choice anyway, and refuses to say much about the maid's work when she's done. The maid has no reaction to this, and leaves without comment. The three of them have exchanged less than fifty words, and so there will be nothing to report to Vanozza, Lucrezia, or Cesare.

Donna examines her indistinct reflection and sighs. "They're creepy, but the fashion sense is impeccable," she comments. "I wonder who we're being paraded in front of today."

Then they are made to wait another stretch of hours, during which Donna notes they aren't brought any food or drink. "I wonder if we're prisoners for sure now," she says. "Or if they're just being stingy."

Around two in the afternoon, two guards are sent to escort them to the throne room, where there is a large table set with several chairs. On the table rests a set of maps, all impeccably drawn, including the map shown to the Doctor by Cesare. To the side are pages with wine jugs and glasses. Cesare is standing near the fireplace with another man. This man's hair is shorn short in the manner of a Roman soldier, and he is wearing fine silk and leather. When he turns from the fireplace with Cesare Donna can see his eyes are a sharp green-gold color. She's put in mind of a raptor, again, just as she had been with Cesare. "Please," Cesare says, fixing the Doctor and Donna with a cold gaze. "Have a seat, everyone." He moves to pull Donna's chair out for her. "Madonna Dottore," he says, giving her a bow full of courtesy that isn't matched by the emptiness in his eyes. Donna regards him without flinching outwardly, but the Doctor notes the slight quickening of her breath in fear. He seats himself next to her and closes the space between their chairs. Both Cesare and the unknown man take note of this.

"Doctor, Donna Dottore, I present to you my longtime friend, Niccolo Machiavelli," Cesare says. The yellow eyed man bows slightly, an ironically well bred gesture.

The Doctor looks impassive, with a tinge of disgust in his eyes.

"Maestro Machiavelli," Cesare says next, to fill the silence, "our guests have criticized our diplomatic relations with the Andromedans, and therefore our military plans for Pisa."

At the sound of the word "Andromedans," Machiavelli's eyebrows raise practically into his hairline.

"What concern can you possibly have with the Andromedans?" he inquires directly of Donna and the Doctor. "And by what means did you draw any conclusions regarding them?"

"Well," the Doctor says. "Perhaps it's because they're perfectly willing to help you strangle an entire city for the sake of one man's ambitions when they have no reason to care about Earth or its affairs at all." He looks to Cesare, who is stonefaced. "Why are you so special to them? Are you sure you are special to them? Are they looking for something in exchange?"

Cesare waves the Doctor's words away, and points to Donna. "Now, this lovely woman you see here," he says to Machiavelli conversationally, "she brought me a computer that predicted my death, my sister's death, and without doubt predicts yours as well."

"Well, brother, you know as well as I do that beauty doesn't mean goodness," Machiavelli says, in a surprisingly lackadaisical, unconcerned tone. "There are plenty of women who have lured men to their deaths by virtue of a ripe lip and a suggestive smile."

Donna has to laugh then, which surprises them. "Oh, go on, boys!" she says merrily. "Call me a whore, it's not like you've not said it before about so many other women when your powers fail you." She turns to Machiavelli. "I'm not afraid of you," she tells him. "Any more than I am of Cesare. These are arrogant plans that don't succeed. All I did was tell him the truth."

"History is written by the victors," Machiavelli says, spreading his hands. "You will not necessarily be the victor. Nor be the pen that writes the history."

"Nor you," Donna returns. "Though I have read your book." She sits back and crosses her arms. "In fact, if you needed any further proof, I could download a copy for you right now."

"I don't know what that means," Machiavelli shrugs. "I haven't written any book."

"Not til 1532," the Doctor chimes in. "But we've got it anyway."

"All right," Cesare interrupts, irritated that the focus has shifted away from him. "All right, enough. The point is that these two have come here to stop us, to stop me, and I will not have it. What is their connection to the Andromedans? Or to us?"

Machiavelli shrugs. "The Andromedans know him," he points to the Doctor, "but they have concluded the female human is an unknown mate that was clearly not important enough to make their records."

"Well she's quite important to him, as you can see," Cesare gestures. "And an alliance we seemingly aren't able to break. She has no interest in my cock whatsoever."

Donna sneers. "Not even with a stolen fanny, mate," she says, and the Doctor guffaws in delighted surprise. He bumps fists with her.

The smile on Donna's face is an affront to Cesare and he springs out of his seat, leaning over the table into Donna's face. The Doctor gets in his way immediately, and both men are shouting.

"You stay back from her--"

"You fucking interfering slut--" Cesare gets that far before the Doctor lands a stunning blow to his face, knocking Cesare back into his seat, and the Doctor thrusts the sonic screwdriver into his face.

"You stay away from her," he says, his voice low and threatening, "or I will cook your brain inside your skull and make it leak out every hole in your head, do you understand me?" He points the sonic at Machiavelli next. "And then your friend, and he'll never get to write that book at all."

"No more!" Machiavelli says loudly. "No more! Cesare, why did you not kill them immediately?"

"The Andromedans said not to!" Cesare exclaims, exasperated. "They said he was a better ally than enemy."

"You never expected I would support the mass murder of an entire city for the sake of your ego, did you?" the Doctor demands. "I thought the history books called you a genius. You never thought I'd be your ally in this, did you?"

Donna crosses her arms. "I know what the problem is," she says. "It's hubris. Just men being men."

Machiavelli regards Donna searchingly. "And you think women would be better at warfare?"

"What does warfare have to do with it?" Donna snaps. "This is much simpler than that. You think you're important, and you're not."

A silence falls.

"So I am enjoined by the Andromedans not to kill these obnoxious interfering vermin," Cesare says to Machiavelli through his teeth. "And you are instructed no t to allow me to do so. But they are telling us we will not succeed, so perhaps we had better move to the next part of this plan." He turns his gaze on Donna and the Doctor. "We have given your ship over to the Andromedans, who will hold it in our interest to ensure your cooperation."

The Doctor gives a short, mirthless smile. "And did you find my ship to be functional when you turned it over?" he asks.

"Irrelevant," Cesare says smugly.

"And did you think the Andromedans had any interest in an old outdated machine that they can't do anything with but junk it?" the Doctor asks next. "Did you think they would see any value in it? What did you think you gave them?"

Cesare pauses because he doesn't know the answer to this question. Then his face darkens again. "It doesn't matter. It was yours, and I took it from you, and I did with it what I wanted to, and what I felt was necessary. I took the control from you."

"Ah, and that is the essence of your entire persona," Donna says. "The overwhelming need to take from others what isn't yours to fill the empty hole in your mind and heart that should have been filled with family and love and support. Instead what are you but a common criminal in silks? Do you think that because your father is the Pope you're somehow exempt from human need and emotion? Despite what you think, Cesare, you are not a god."

Before the Doctor can move Cesare flies across the table again, delirious with anger, both hands gripping Donna's throat. Her eyes go wide immediately, and she reaches up to grab at his wrists. The Doctor pulls his sonic without hesitation and slams it into Cesare's shoulder, where even Donna can feel the massive charge of electricity as it surges through Cesare's body. He lets out an agonized scream and Donna leaps back and away from him, where he is convulsing on the table, the genteel wine forgotten. Machiavelli is stunned, horrified at the sight of technology he doesn't understand.

The Doctor is incandescent with rage, and rolls Cesare over on the tabletop. He slams a fist into Cesare's face and whirls to point the sonic at Machiavelli. "I don't want to kill either of you," he says. "But I can make it hurt so much worse than that."

Cesare is gasping for air, clutching his shoulder, his face enraged. "You can't stop me!" he screams at the Doctor. He seems to be even angrier that the shock has made his limbs weak and unreliable for the moment. He struggles to his feet and has to grasp the table to stay upright until he can stand up straight. It is undignified and humiliating, and Machiavelli makes no move to help Cesare, who would not have appreciated the gesture anyway.

"We can," the Doctor says. "I can. I will."

Machiavelli holds up a hand, seemingly having regained his faculties. "Wait," he says. "I have a question for you." He points at the Doctor. "The Andromedans instructed Cesare not to kill you. They told him to make an ally of you. Why? And why would they send him to do something they know could never work?" He looks between the Doctor and Cesare. "What do they know that we don't?" He narrows his eyes. "Do they take Cesare for a fool? Or you, Doctor?"

The Doctor laughs, his sonic still pointed. "What did they tell you when you told them about me?" he asks Cesare. "They told you not to fuck with me, right?"

The rage on Cesare's face hardens further. "They told me not to kill you. They told me you were a soldier and you would understand conquest. They told me you killed an entire planet. Your own planet."

The Doctor pauses. "Did they?" he says. "And you believed them?" He crosses his arms, apparently satisfied that neither man is a threat to him or Donna any longer. "I thought they said in history books this man was a genius," he quips to Donna, who shrugs, her hands massaging the red marks at her throat. "I just see an arrogant sociopath. A little boy in a man's body."

Cesare seems to overcome the weakness and pain in his body and steps toward the Doctor again. "They lied to me. You aren't a soldier," he sneers. "You're a coward. They told me you've killed more men than I could ever imagine. They told me you destroyed your own planet. They told me you would let the world burn for your ambition. They told me you were like me."

And here the Doctor lets out a great laugh, devoid of mirth but entirely intentional in its mocking tone. "Oh, Cesare!" he says, wiping his eyes at tears that may or may not be there. "Oh, you poor fool!" He points to Machiavelli. "This man painted a portrait of you in his book that is entirely too flattering for the... prince I see in front of me right now." He pockets his sonic. "Now you see," he says, "Donna said something brilliant recently," and he wraps an arm around her waist, "because she is both brilliant and beautiful, you will note. She said--" He points at Cesare. "The best weapon against arrogance is ridicule. And d'you know? I think she's right." Here he turns an affectionate smile on her. "In fact, I know she's right." He maneuvers Donna towards the door as he speaks, but Donna catches on immediately and stiffens in place, unmoving.

"Don't be daft," she snaps at him under her breath. "I'm not going anywhere."

The Doctor gives her a short, speaking look, and then turns away from her. "There is one thing you're right about, though," he says, closing in on Cesare. "I would let the world burn, for one very specific reason, and that reason is to save her." He points back at Donna. "So bear that in mind." He looks to Machiavelli. "Remember that."

He hadn't intended to say that in front of her, but it couldn't be helped. Cesare seems to make a decision. He goes to the door of the room and opens it. "Guards!" he calls, his voice jagged.

Four men enter the room, lightly armed and armored. "Take them back to their room," Cesare says. "This is the last time I consult with them."

The guards encircle Donna and the Doctor and they are moved out of the room. When the door shuts behind them, Cesare sweeps the entire table clean, roaring in frustration. Machiavelli watches him, contemplative and calculating. "Relax, Cesare," he says eventually, when Cesare has flung himself into a chair, seething. "The Andromedans told us not to kill him. Not her."

Cesare bears his teeth in a snarl. "He won't let her out of his sight. Not anymore. And she won't leave him."

Machiavelli waves his hand. "Not with us. But your mother is no threat. Neither is Lucrezia. And the truth is that Donna Dottore belongs in the society of women, whatever the Doctor thinks. I suggest you bring your mother and sister to bear on them. Have her go to the kitchens and help with the supper tonight. Let your mother work on her."

Cesare crosses his arms and then grimaces in pain. "That fucking Doctor," he rages, dropping his arms.

"But the best way to him is through her," Machiavelli says. "It doesn't matter that you didn't succeed last time. Try again. If you say their alliance is unbreakable, it's because he wants it that way. The Andromedans have no record of her as anyone important. She's incidental."

"She's incidental, but he says he'd burn the world to save her," Cesare says. "So I don't think she's so incidental." His face is set. "One last try," he says. "And if that doesn't work, they're dead. Both of them."

To Part 6

#ten x donna #tatennant #otp: be with you forever #doctor x donna

[theharrowing]

Sometimes other reads call to you and that's ok! I am glad you're having fun reading!

I saw your posts! Quite funny! If I was able to attach a photo, I'd've attacked the "U good" "no" meme to my last ask.

Currently, I think my favorite is forg_tful. It has a very chill vibe and I like it a ton. But I love all the songs so much. I was sort of thinking that Wild Flower and Dreaming have somewhat similar vibes to me (lyrically). With Dreaming, I've always kinda seen the chorus esp when Hobi says "wish on a scar" as this sort of desperate attempt to make a wish and have it come true, to make this dream come true. Wild Flower... Youjeen sounds so desperate for this wonder of a flowerwork. It's a parallel to nature but also this want for something you can access to be something untouchable.

I've not listened to many of the lyrics yet because I had a final today and thus can't cry but I am so excited to listen to the lyrics of the songs.

- Eggnog 🥚🥛

i'm in pain bro. but also i feel healed. his music always puts me thru it.

ah, i like your assessments so far. i was always wondering why hoseok says, "wish on a scar." like......i feel like i know what he could mean but i'm not sure i could really put it into words.

lyrically, all of them are so good. it's interesting how hoseok's jack in the box was a little darker and more angry, and joon's indigo seems a lot more hopeful. i am honestly terrified of what d3 is going to be like, because yoongi's music always speaks to me the most and i have already been put through emotional turmoil from 2/3 of the rap line.

i also still need to sit with the songs, read the lyrics, and digest them. i like to wait until doolset posts their translations because they seem to be more insightful than a lot of those you find online (which is frustrating; i feel like hybe can afford to have someone on staff who does a good job on both online and music video translations, but they tend to just be........weird sometimes. i have a lot of hybe/big hit gripes tho lmao. we don't need to get into that.) if you find anything that is particularly profound, let me know! :)

#eggnog 🥚🥛💜 #bangtansecretsanta #you've got mail 💌

[fruitcoops]

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

#leo knut #sirius black #coops #oknutzy #finn ohara #logan tremblay #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #friendship #cap and rookie

[bukojuiice]

farewell, my dark knight. — diluc ragnvindr

ೃ ft. diluc x gender neutral! reader

ೃ 6k words

ೃ tags and warnings: angst. a sweet and lovestruck diluc. reminiscing memories with him. he writes you letters and talks to you about his day. he’s very soft and he’s very much in love with you.

ೃ requested by anon:  “hi! could i request a diluc x reader, in which diluc dies from a mission, and as reader is cleaning out his room, they find letters neatly packed into drawers, and with closer inspection, they are letters diluc wrote to reader every day, so when he isn’t around anymore, reader can read them and not forget about him? sorry i’m a sucker for angst and your writing omg” (thank you for this request! and for making me cry while writing it! <3 i put a lot of work into this, so i hope everyone enjoys!)

ೃ genshin impact masterlist

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡ (please like and most esp. reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot!)

They say all your senses and your feelings are heightened when you are broken and mourning.

You hear things more clearly like the tenderness of his voice because it’s better than listening to the drum of your heart.

You feel the sun, the air, and his gentle touch on your skin because you are trying to feel things instead of shutting down. 

You smell his perfume and the scent of the pancakes he used to make- everywhere. 

You still feel his fingers as though they are knotted through yours and it makes you cry.

It hurts.

It pains you. 

This is the most tragic day of your life.

“Sir Diluc has.. passed away.” Jean announces, reaching for your hands and squeezing them in support. She pulls you inside a spare and lonely room in the Ragnvindr manor. Lisa is at her side, for extra emotional support, handing you a spare handkerchief as they break the news to you. 

Your heart sank. 

You were not the first to know. But, even if you were… there was no possible way.

 You were a traveling adventurer in search of something that will quell your curiosities; disappearing for days or weeks on end. There were times when Diluc would come with you on your travels and the two of you would just go wherever your heart desires. Staying in Qingce Village and mingling with the elderly townsfolk, Visiting the Adeptus abode, strolling around Springvale or vacationing in the summer islands… there was nothing that could stop the two of you together. 

As two of the heroes of Mondstadt from the Stormterror incident and his status as the esteemed owner of the Dawn Winery, you were famed and loved by all. Though as Diluc was not one for friendliness or casual interactions with others, It was all because of you that he had befriended some particular members of the Adventurer’s guild and the Knights of Favonius. You had even asked them if they could visit the Dark Knight hero at the winery from time to time. 

Well, aside from the regular visits of Venti and Kaeya to satisfy their quench for wine, Jean accompanied by Amber and Lisa to ask for advice, uncommon visitors such as Klee and Albedo had even come by to accompany him now and show him their wonderful new experiments and discoveries….

 You had given him a reason to have hope in the people of Mondstadt once again. His previous faction with the Favonius knights may have been imperfect, but Jean had proved to be amazing enough to rectify all these past mistakes that had eased Diluc’s resentment to the knights.

You continue to count back to all the things that he has done for you. As someone who’s had no home and who’s been traveling all their life, Diluc became your home. He had fallen for you and your wondrous soul. He was your living reminder that you can find home in a person. Someone who you can rely on, someone you will come back to after a long tiring day, someone who will love you for who you are and who will kiss your flaws away.  

And now, he’s gone. Just like that.

You have been gone for three months prior to all of this as you were on a secret commission to fight off a huge group of treasure hoarders in Natlan. Although you were able to travel back to Fontaine shortly after, you had to wait for further instruction from the guild before you could come back to Mondstadt. At the time, the only thoughts to occupy your mind was Diluc who had been waiting for your return and your longing and desire to run into his arms and for him to kiss your tiredness away. 

However, it took two agonizing days before Jean’s letter had arrived. All you could do was weep and worry endlessly at the inside of a quaint inn at the heart of the bustling and picturesque region that was Fontaine. Inside her letter were updated reports of Diluc’s disappearance; he had been missing for three days without telling the maids or any of the inhabitants of the mansion and the winery of his departure. He left without a trace…

As soon as the sun had risen that same day, you quickly left the region and made your way back to Mondstadt. With no knowledge or premonition that at the same day…

Diluc would be found.

On the road to Mondstadt, the staff at the Winery had been going on their merry day to deliver the wine to the city, when they came across a body. Battered and bruised. Upon closer inspection, it was their dearest master; the current head of the Ragvindr family. Further suspicion arose when a hoard of Fatui members had been defeated; lying beside the riverbend not too far from the manor. The Knights of Favonius had quickly deduced that Diluc had crawled all the way back to the outskirts of the Manor but had unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. 

From that day on, the sun had never shined again. 

Your stomach was in knots. You had a feeling that something had happened and yet, you didn’t expect for it to be something like this. You didn’t expect to hear about the state that he was in when he was found.

He’s strong. He’s the Dark Knight Hero, One of the protectors of Mondstadt; Hell, he’s one of the most powerful vision users of the region.

Yet… how did this happen?

A knock on the door had brought you out of your trance. With a simple “Come in.” said by Jean, the guest in question was revealed to be Kaeya who peered out from the door. A forlorn expression plastered upon his face. His head turns and your eyes meet his, “(Y/N)... how are you doing?” His voice gentle and melancholic. 

“N-never been better.” You remark in between sobs. “I-I need time to process this.” Wiping your tears with the handkerchief, you stand up, about to take your leave. “I-I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“According to the Favonius accords, Sir Diluc must be buried tom-”

“To hell with the Favonius accords!” You snap, still trying to fight back the tears as the three knights stare at you in shock and in empathy. “M-master Jean… p-please. Just one more day. Before I have to say goodbye to him forever… Let me have one day to reminisce about him.”

The Acting Grandmaster hesitates, as if collecting her thoughts first before she speaks. “Very well. We will be arranging the burial and other matters in the near future. For now, please get all the rest and recuperation you need. Thank you for your time, honorary knight. We’ll see you in a few days.” Jean holds your hand and gives it another reassuring squeeze as she and Lisa watch your walking figure make your way out of the room. 

Kaeya, who was still in front of the entryway, moves to the side to give you some space to make your leave. “Before the maids fully clean up his room, why don’t you tune in there for the night? I’m sure Diluc would love that.” 

“He would.” You smile half-heartedly, the indigo-haired man giving you a reassuring pat on the arm. “T-thanks Kaeya. I will.” 

“I’ll be staying in the manor for the rest of Diluc’s memorial if you want t-to… talk about him. See you around.” You nod at him before shuffling down the stairs to enter the manor wing that led to Diluc’s room.

Oh, how you wish you were as calm as Jean and as emotionally mature as Kaeya right now. 

How are they able to hold up so well? How are they able to take this all in and not be on the verge of breakdown like you are? They’ve known Diluc since childhood. Hell, Kaeya was his adopted brother. His brother in arms. How are they able to accept his death just like that? 

Are you just… not as strong as them?

You take a left turn around the manor wing that leads to Diluc’s room to be surprised by Adelinde who greets you in front of Diluc’s door, a torn and bloodied folded paper in her hands. “Honorary knight, we have a letter addressed to you. The staff at the winery found it tucked inside Master Diluc’s pocket. You might want to read it.” She gingerly hands you the folded piece, patting your hand gently once she places it in your palm.

“Thank you, Adelinde.” 

You turn your attention to unlocking the door, fishing for the spare key that he had given you and inserting it into the knob, you hear the head maid speak behind your back. 

“Whilst you were away, there was never a day that Master Diluc had not spoken about you with such love and praise. I hope you know in your heart how much he loves and cherishes you. As there was never another person in his life who he had loved the most after Sir Crepus’ passing.” She recounts, her voice is slow and meek. “Thank you for loving Master Diluc and for showing him what it truly means to be a part of a family again. The entire staff sends our deepest condolences and we will be here for you and Sir Kaeya whenever you need us.” From the side of your eye, you see Adelinde bowing deeply before she subsequently takes her leave and disappears into the hallway.

With a heavy sigh, the door clicks and you enter your beloved’s abode. 

Not one thing has been touched. It still looks and remains the same.

His coat is still hanged on his wardrobe door, his usual button up black dress shirts folded neatly on one of the drawers, books that he’s read to you time and time again are shelved properly, a hearth in front of the bed that reminded you of your endless cuddles in front of the fireplace, his gloves neatly placed on his bedside table, and pictures of the two of you together in the Golden Apple Archipelago taken with the Kamera are hung on clips and strings on his desk.

It was like he never left. 

Like his physical being had just gone off on a long adventure.

Yet, it feels so empty. 

Because his soul and his presence is no longer here with you.

And it hurts. Everything hurts.

You take a seat on his bed. The mattress slightly creaks as you reach for an unusual piece of paper sticking out of his bedside drawer. Opening the cabinet slowly, your suspicion and curiosity heightens when what is revealed to be inside was a wooden box. Engraved were Diluc’s initials and letters that spelled out “Do not touch” 

Curiosity overwhelming you, you gingerly open the wooden box to be surprised with folded letters written by Diluc that were all addressed to you. Along with the date and time it was made. 

He wrote letters every single day. Hoping that once you came home, you could finally read them. Trying your best not to burst into tears, you carefully look through all of them and notice that they were all written during your absence. During those three agonizing months that you were gone. 

Although his daily letters were short and simply written, he never fails to write to you an encompassing message at the end of the week. In each weekly letter, he entailed many things: Like writing to you about his day, how much he misses you, how much time has passed, and discussing particular things he found during his nightly patrols or interesting things about his day. He wrote letters to you as if you were right there with him. His words etched with simplicity yet full of love. He wrote these letters to be whisked away from a minute of his otherwise mundane life. And despite how uneventful they may be, he still shares them with you because he knows you will listen. He knows you will take your time to read everything. As even though the two of you may be thousands of miles apart, your hearts will still beat as one.

You finally find the one that he had written for you the day after your departure, and begin to read it’s contents. Preparing yourself for an overflow of emotions that you were not ready for. 

JANUARY 3RD, 45 BP

As much as I hate to see you go, I realized that life has plans for all people. Even if those plans separate us from the ones we love. For the recent years that have passed, I have seen staff at the winery and maids in the manor come and go. And yet, I still haven’t gotten used to seeing you go off on your adventures. There are times I wish I could just be free of all of these responsibilities and come along with you on your escapades. But alas, I will presume that life is not for me. Always know that no matter where my life takes me or yours takes you, I will love you whether there are 1000 miles between us or none at all.

I miss you already, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

JANUARY 10TH, 45 BP

A week has come to pass since you left and I’ve been trying my best to keep myself busy. Kaeya has come to visit me and so has Venti, but they have done absolutely nothing to alleviate my boredom. In fact, they’ve all been a pain in the arse. When I tossed them into two of the guest rooms for passing out drunk, I was suddenly reminded of the times that you would wait for me at the Angel’s Share and help me drag Rosaria back to the cathedral, Kaeya back to his residence, and Venti back to the tree in Windrise. Then, we would take a night stroll around the city as the dwindling lights of the shops and houses being the only things illuminating our way. I cannot wait to do all of this with you again. It feels like the universe closes in around us whenever we’re together. But… the moment is so fleeting and you are gone again. The universe is awfully large and I am awfully small,  unable to hold the world with my hands. I just wish you were here to make me feel as if the universe is close enough to reach once more. 

Good night, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

JANUARY 17TH, 45 BP

It is 9 o’ clock in the evening as I write this. Today, Bennett had visited and asked if I could train him to control his vision. I said yes as I had nothing much better to do. Fischl and Razor were there to accompany him as well. To be quite honest, they’re quite a convivial trio. It’s nice to see them remain free-spirited despite everything that has happened recently. I could not bear to remain as cheerful as they are amidst the constant abyss order and Fatui attacks. After our training, Razor had come up to me and told me that you and I are lupical. I didn’t quite understand at first, but with Fischl’s long and heavy explanation, I had come to understand what it meant: Family.

Perhaps… we can be a family? Have a family of our own?

Oh… wait. I know, it’s too soon. So, please disregard my wishful thinking for now. I’d like to apologize if that may have come out the wrong way.

Thank you for reading today’s letter, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

JANUARY 24TH, 45 BP

I finished a book I borrowed from the Favonius library today. Lisa said you've been eyeing the tome for a long time. However, since Ella Musk was borrowing it at the time and you had to leave shortly for your trip to Natlan, you never got the chance to. I'd like to apologize for having been able to read it in advance. Perhaps, I can read it to you once you get home? Maybe in front of the fireplace, blankets hugging us for warmth, and cups of hot chocolate in our hands? Anyhow, there was something I found interesting about it.

There are Sumeru philosophers who claim that the past, present, and future all exist at the same time. That there are parallel universes. It had me thinking, in another universe... Would we still be together? Will fate bring us together? Could there be more for us outside of this blue sky we share?

I'm sorry for making you worry. It's probably my insomnia kicking in. These past twenty days have been quite lonely without you.

Goodnight, my love. May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us. 

JANUARY 31ST, 45 BP

I can’t believe that January has finally come to pass. It feels like forever since you left. I know, I know, I sound like I’m sulking. But… the thoughts I had from finishing the book last week still have not left my mind. If only I could close my eyes and find myself in the place wherever you are right now. Kind of like…. What were those called? Waypoints? Yes! Those. Mayhaps, I should pay Sucrose or Albedo a visit and ask if they could make a portable wayfinder for me or a potion that can teleport me anywhere? Well, at least I have something interesting to do tomorrow. 

See you soon, my love. May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us. 

FEBRUARY 7TH, 45 BP

The day you left, I went through all my old journals, frantically looking for the first mention of you. Searching for details I can no longer recall and any morsel of information that may have been lost. It honestly made me laugh at how different I used to think of you back then. You were always a kindred soul and yet, there was an eccentric air around you that I just couldn't quite understand. It was the good kind, of course. I have never thought ill of you since the beginning. Ever since the tragedy that befell my father, I would push everyone away from me. I told myself that if you didn't form close bonds with others, then you wouldn't get attached to them. They would be easier to let go and you could. But... you were the first who went out of your way for me. The first time you entered Angel's Share and challenged me to a game of chess solely because someone from the Adventurers' guild told you so? I knew there was something about you. Something wonderful. I wish to show you these old journals soon. Mayhaps you can get a clearer picture of my thoughts and impressions of others once you read them. 

For now, all I can do is count the days until you are home once more.

 Goodnight my love, may the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

FEBRUARY 14, 45 BP

People should fall in love more. Fall in love with how the dandelions blow with the wind, Fall in love with the safe and comforting feeling of being in the middle of a bustling city that is Mondstadt, Fall in love with the stars and the night that shines before us and Fall in love with the idea of being in love or loving someone. Having recently realized these things, I had the most spontaneous idea of wanting to get married in the Winery with you. In the future, of course. I know it’s not much. But I know you’re not the type to want anything fancy, so it’s the perfect area for the most beautiful moment of our lives to take place.

I had gotten a little too into the idea of planning our wedding and I aimlessly listed down those who will be attending. All our closest friends and family. Can you imagine Little Klee as the flower girl? Kaeya as the best man? Jean and Lisa as the maids of honor? Maybe we can even ask Eula to choreograph our wedding dance for us? Most importantly, have the wonderful honor of having the Lord Barbatos to officiate our marriage?

Once again, I hope you can pardon me and my blissful escapism. I can’t wait for the day to arrive where we can plan all of this and make it a perfect wedding.

As always, thank you for reading my constant rambles and inner thoughts, my love.

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

FEBRUARY 21ST, 45 BP

If you were taken away from me, this place called our world, I would cry.

Sighing, wringing my hands, and wondering why.

How can the archons and those up in Celestia dare to take the most precious soul in the universe from me?

But... what if I would be the one who would be taken away from you? Will you feel the same way too?

FEBRUARY 28TH, 45 BP

Please excuse me for everything I said in my message last week. I may have sounded somewhat selfish and I'd like to apologize for making you overthink when you already have so much on your plate. I cannot wait to mail out these letters to you, but the postal office in Monstadt doesn't deliver letters to Natlan, unfortunately. I guess I have to wait until you reach Fontaine. Putting those aside for a moment, something happened today that I wanted to share with you. Whilst I was feeding Noctua, I had realized something. What about the little birds who dream of flight? Those who gaze into the starry night and think that one day... they might be a part of that same sky? To be free, to explore, and to have the feeling of air and light coursing through their wings. Is... this the same feeling you felt before? Is this why you go on adventures?

I'd love to talk to you more about this once you get home. For now, all I can do is write you a letter and bid you goodnight. 

May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

March 7TH, 45 BP

Whenever I write a letter addressed to you, I feel a raw ache in my bones when the ink seeps into the paper— for I feel the bittersweet sorrow of wanting you to be right by my side, to have my fingers intertwined with yours, and to be exhumed by you because you have always seen past all my flaws and imperfections. I miss you. So much. At this point, it feels as if I have no right to. Tell me... is it right to feel this way? Am I being selfish for wanting the days to come by? For April to be in our midst? Can I blame the archons for wanting to have you in my arms again? There’s something happening next week, and to be honest, I’m quite excited for it. See you soon, my love.

 May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

March 14TH, 45 BP

Today is the first day of the Windblume Festival. How I terribly wish you were in Mondstadt right now. This would have been your first year and I know you would love the events. I remember when Father brought Kaeya and I to the festival for the very first time, and oh how my eyes were filled with wonderment and unshaken innocence. He gifted us a harp that day, and I still play it when I have time. It’s a wonderful keepsake with a lovely name, (The Windblume Ode) and it never fails to remind me of my father. I wonder if… Kaeya still kept his? Nostalgia aside, Venti caught up to me on the way home and told me I should see what he has in store for the second week of the festival. I know that the bard has a lot up his sleeve, but this particular encounter with him filled me with curiosity. What could it be? What does he have in store for me?

Before I end this, I bought you a bouquet of Dandelions and Cecilias today. They have a different color than the usual wreaths and posies, as these ones only bloom during Windblume. I placed them inside the vase on your desk just a few minutes ago. I do not necessarily have green thumbs, so please do not blame me if anything bad happens. I made sure that they’re still in season once you get home and I can’t wait for you to see them.

Goodnight my love, May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

MARCH 21ST, 45 BP

Once you get home, please do assist on reprimanding the bard for me. Can you believe he had tricked me into attending his love poem-making classes? Since a lot of the cityfolk have been dying to take writing classes under him and were willing to pay if he did, he had decided to take this opportunity to receive mora and “get rich.” Venti brags to the cityfolk that he will use their compensation for good reasons… but we all know he’ll just spend it wasting away at Angel’s Share. I won't let him pass me when it’s my hour to manage the tavern, of course. But… maybe one drink as a prize for all his hard work wouldn’t be too bad? After all, I did learn a lot of things from him. He was also quite smart for incorporating such an activity with Windblume. As during the festivities,  the people of Mondstadt offer Windblumes to Barbatos and to those they love and adore. 

I spent all day being mentored and trained into creating “the most romantic poem written in Teyvat” I know Venti is bluffing and was just trying to soften me so I wouldn’t get mad at him, yet he was actually genuinely impressed with my poetic skills. I didn’t want anyone else to read it before you did, but he snatched the paper from my hands as soon as I finished so that he may critique it. I… didn’t expect him to shed a tear. 

Here is the poem I wrote for you, my love. I hope you’ll like it.

“I wish one day, I'd be able to lay you down on a bed of roses with

the stars watching over us.

I wish one day we will be able to see the world together, to touch the stars and become planets.

After all, darling, stars, like life, is what you make of it. 

 I wish you knew how much I've loved you for all these years, so quietly, so loudly.

One day these roses will never compare to the redness in your cheeks, the softness of your heart.

 One day you will see kingdoms rise and the sun dance on your eyelids.

 And one day the moon will hang from your fingertips, waiting for you to refract your light and hope onto others.

You are an enigmatic being. A beautiful soul. Sometimes I think that you’re not from this universe.

 You have enraptured my soul; my whole being. You taught me how to love. 

Everything about you is out of this world and I am merely a human amazed by your interstellar presence as if you are written in the stars.”

 MARCH 28TH, 45 BP

I think I’ve gotten the hang of writing poems. I’m quite confident in my lyricism and in my writing now. So, here’s an excerpt of another poem I’m writing for you. 

 “I will love you through all the days and nights we are apart.

I will love you through every day and as the darkness turns to light. 

It is four o’ clock in the afternoon and this is the hardest part.

But this is the way I love you, even if most days we are apart.” 

 That’s all for now. I’m afraid you’ll only see the final draft once you get back. I hope you’re having a wonderful time at Natlan. Take care always, my love.

 May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

 APRIL 4TH, 45 BP

I’ve been pondering about something again today. And It’s all because of Kaeya and Jean. They came over and we reminisced all day long about our childhood memories with tea and crumpets to accompany us. It was a nice feeling. To be able to look back on your childhood with such wistfulness. With such warmth. And with that, I realized something soon after: We’re young, but not that young. Some of the folk in Springvale are sixty-five and still feel young. Even Lord Barbatos feels young. Just because we have years ahead of us doesn’t mean our love isn’t going to last a lifetime. But… that’s the thing. We don’t have an entire lifetime to show love and affection towards each other and to others. Which is why we have to make the most of it. Live in the moment. Make the most of every minute that your heart is beating. Love endlessly. Be kind to others. That’s… what you always told me right? Even if we don’t have the rest of our lives to be with each other, I will still love you anyway. Every day, deeply, wholeheartedly, even if we are young and even if we are old. My love for you will be gentle, but fierce and bold.

That is all for now, my love. May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us.

April 11TH, 45 BP

The words are melting in my mouth like snow, and I feel like I'm running on empty, but there are only 5 days until you come home. I have dreamt every night of the morning we are together again. You will be drinking dandelion wine and I will be talking about how the orchard will finally bloom. Then in the next few months, we can do everything we dreamed about. We can go around the winery, have picnics amongst the stars, walk around Mondstadt and go on adventures once more. Soon, you will be home, and I will watch the leaves and patiently wait for time to pass by  until we are together again. 

 But.. since I cannot wait no more, I plan to travel all the way to Fontaine to see you. I will not be telling any of the maids or the staff where I’ll be going. They would worry if I left again. This is all going to be a surprise and this letter will proof of that. I want to be beside you once more and I cannot bear to wait for five more days. I will be leaving at Dawn tomorrow! I’ll treat this as a little vacation. I rightfully deserve it as a treat for my birthday, hoping I can spend it together with you. Maybe… we can take a quick detour and go on a little adventuring? Just the two of us. I know you’ll be weary from your trip, but we can continue to stay at Fontaine but we can go once you’ve fully recovered.

 I cannot wait to feel your warmth and your love in person again. See you soon, my beloved.

 May the stars of Teyvat always shine upon us. 

That was it. That was the last letter stored in the box. 

 You stare into nothingness, unable to find the words to say. 

 Tears began to form in your eyes, your vision blurring and your hands quivering at the thought of him. All these letters he’s written to you all throughout these months and the fact that he was planning to surprise you by meeting with you at Fontaine? It hurts you so much thinking of all the things that could’ve been. Thinking about what could’ve happened if this tragedy did not take place.

 “Diluc…”

 You call out for his name. Hoping there is an answer. 

 But… of course there isn’t. 

 Your hands absentmindedly graze upon the corners of the  bed when you suddenly remember the torn letter Adelinde had given you. 

 You open the letter with slight hesitance, noticing the dark stains that presumably came from Diluc’s torn and dirtied clothes. With a heavy sigh and as you dry your tears, you begin to read the letter. 

APRIL 13TH, 45 BP

Ever since you left, I felt as if we were breaking the whole world's heart. But... all this time, it was always the other way around. It was the world that was slowly breaking us. 

 Even in these last moments, I cannot fathom that I will be disappearing from this world without even seeing you again. It hurts. My body. There are bruises and wounds all over. My hands are trembling in fear and weariness. I can barely move my wrist and I can hardly think of the words I want to say. I feel the end is drawing near. Not for the world, not for you, but for me. Everything is caving in, my senses are slowing, my eyes are falling, and just waiting for the rest of my system to put me into an eternal sleep. 

 Would... time be so kind as to slow? Can the world stop for a minute and listen to my plea? To my call? A miracle to happen that could magically transport you to me? I w-wish we could have spent more time together. All these letters I’ve written for you these past few months… were they an omen? Was I foolish to think I could have a future with you? Is this the price to pay for having been separated from you for so long? Is it… still possible to attain it? The life I’ve always wanted with you?  Maybe in another world, we can. 

We will share every innocent dream and talk about our fears. All your hopes and dreams. I will listen to the sound of your voice and the echoes of your soul. I will kiss your forehead, your knuckles, and your lips. I will stand by you in every new day even when people seem so unkind. I will join up all your insecurities, bundle all your flaws, and make them into a constellation so that I may find them and wish them away. I will do everything to make you feel safe. I will do everything to make you feel loved. There was never a day that I doubted you. You are everything to me, (Y/N). You are a free and wandering soul. I wish I could be behind you to support you wherever you may go, but alas, that fate is not for me. And… I think that’s fine.

 Remain as you are. Continue to love others like you have loved me. Teach them what it means to live. Like you have taught me.

 Please… don’t be sad. This is the momentary sadness to a new beginning, my beloved.

I love you to the stars and back. 

I hope that in another world, our paths may cross again. 

May the stars of Teyvat always shine on you.

A heavy yet comforting feeling fills your heart as tears continue to stream down your cheeks. Folding the letter and putting it into the box amongst all the others, You clutch your hand to your chest, looking up at the ceiling.

 “Diluc, my love… if you are out there. I will love you forever. Through all these months of my absence, you have never left my mind and I wish I could have been there  for you. I wish I could have given you the same amount of love that you have given me. There are so many things I wish I could have done with you. Every letter and every word you’ve ever dedicated to me will forever remain in my heart. These handwritten sentiments will be one of my reminders that you are still with me, no matter where I go. Even if it hurts so much, I will continue to live for you. Honor your memory. I will show the world that I have only loved one man in this lifetime. Thank you for everything.

 You have now become one of the stars that shine down upon me. Soon, we will once again meet in the same sky and there, we will have our happily ever after.

 Farewell, my dark knight.”

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[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Long Journey Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 长旅之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 8 July 2021 ]

Deers rest peacefully beside me, and birds caw from the branches.

All of a sudden, a rustling sound of flapping wings disrupts the peace in the forest.

Smiling subconsciously while tilting my head upwards, a gigantic griffin descends from the sky.

MC: Welcome back, Griffy! Have you been eating and sleeping well?

I walk up to it, burying my face in the griffin’s fluffy chest fur, letting out a happy sigh.

??: You’re only welcoming it?

The voice I’m most familiar with drifts from the griffin’s back. After that, a figure leaps down smoothly.

MC: Gavin, welcome home!

With a turn of my face, I smile while giving him a wave.

Gavin is wearing simple and informal clothes. However, the extraordinary way he carries himself and the exquisite crown on his forehead could only belong to a prince.

He bows before me in a teasing manner, handing me a small bag. Even without opening it, I can smell the fragrance of pastries.

Gavin: Goddess of Nature, I bring you this round of offerings. But stop sharing them with these animals. They’ve put on weight again.

MC: They’re only cute when they’re round and plump.

I retort, unconvinced. Even so, I pinch the squirrel on my shoulder, placing it back onto the tree.

MC: I have also mentioned that you don’t have to bring me any offerings. The person who made the agreement with me was your mother, and I've already accepted sufficient offerings from her.

Despite what I said, I open the little bag that Gavin gave me, grinning while taking out the pastries.

As a deity, I’m basically adept in everything within my own forest. However, I lack the skills and abilities to bake such snacks.

As such, I’m exceptionally happy whenever he brings me such food.

While eating, I continue speaking with unclear articulation.

MC: When your mother came to the forest that year with a jewel which had been passed down from generation to generation, as well as her crown your deity father once gave her...

Gavin: With those items as offerings, she hoped that you’d become my guardian deity who would keep me safe and train me till I became a passable king.

When deities accept human offerings, they reciprocate by bestowing blessings onto humans. This way, a wonderful transactional relationship is formed.

Back then, a queen had brought her son of around fourteen or fifteen years of age to my forest.

That elegant and dignified lady was smiling, but there was faint worry in her eyes.

She told me that her days were numbered, and that she wouldn’t be able to watch her son grow up.

The child’s father was a high-ranking deity who was busy maintaining the earth's order and rarely showed himself.

As such, she gave me offerings, hoping that I'd become her son’s guardian deity, and to protect this small prince.

Gavin does a stretch, then removes the saddle on Griffy.

Gavin: You’ve said it many times, and I remember it all. 

Gavin: Instead of these things, why don’t you eat quickly? I specially bought the basket which just came out from the stove, then rushed Griffy over. The pastries won’t taste good if they get cold.

Gavin draws out his tone, but a smile remains on his lips.

I turn my head towards Gavin, who is helping me manage the medicinal plants with a practised hand. I can’t help but ponder softly in my heart.

This person doesn’t let me protect him much...

Although this half deity obtained the added protection from the Goddess of Nature, he has never asked for assistance aside from guidance.

He has always strived for the things he wanted, and would persist through failure until he reaches his goal.

Later on, this prince who excels in both learning and military skills, and can even control wind, is the one who helps me out.

He always brings me all sorts of human food and small trinkets, calling them offerings.

Gavin: Why are the medicinal plants here turning bare again... did I water them too much?

I can’t help but laugh secretly while walking over to his side. Holding up those medicinal plants, I restore them to life.

Till this day, he only lets me help him in this area.

I think about how despite not having been coronated king, Gavin has long since been able to run a country.

As a guardian deity, I haven’t neglected my duties, have I?

MC: Come to think of it... Gavin, why haven’t you held a coronation ceremony?

Gavin pauses in his movements.

Gavin: Do you want me to become king?

MC: Of course.

Gavin: But if I become king, it means that you’d no longer be my guardian deity.

MC: That... is correct.

Gavin averts his line of sight, and he doesn’t seem to be in a good mood.

This seems to be the case every time I broach this topic with him.

Clearing my throat, I attempt to change the topic to break the awkward atmosphere.

MC: Oh yes, how many days will you be staying this time?

Gavin doesn’t respond. As though he has finally made a certain decision, he sighs deeply and lifts his head, meeting my eyes directly.

Gavin: The reason why I came this time is because there’s something important I needed to tell you. I’ve decided to succeed to the throne.

The overly abrupt news leaves me dumbfounded on the spot.

Gavin doesn’t elaborate further, and continues.

Gavin: Before that, I intend to follow the ancient text and collect the rumoured offerings that deities cannot refuse. That will allow a strong deity to become my new guardian deity, to protect me, and to protect this country.

Hearing his resolute words, my heart feels slightly upset.

Although completing my agreement is a good thing, why does my heart feel empty?

He even said he was going to find a new guardian deity...

I blink a few times, unable to comprehend the feelings churning in my heart.

Gavin: But right now, you’re my guardian deity. Which is why I hope you can accompany me on this journey. Is that okay?

Gavin looks straight at me, his eyes as transparently clear as a cloudless amber sky.

Facing such a him, I can only nod.

-

Despite not yet rationalising my emotions, I reluctantly embark on this journey with him.

The first stop of this journey is the forest in which fairies live.

Looking at the first treasure recorded in the ancient text, I heave a long sigh.

MC: A crystal which can counteract all sorts of curses. It only grows at the tip of the World Tree...

Gavin: What’s wrong? Deities don’t like it?

MC: It’s the opposite. No deities have refused such an offering. To be honest, even I want it. But...

I lift my head. Looking at the giant tree which plunges into the sky, I have a bad feeling.

MC: You have to know that even though I’m a deity, I was born from nature, and the source of my strength comes from the forest and the land. Which also means...

I’m not good at flying.

Likely hearing the implication of my words, Gavin doesn’t hold back, chuckling softly.

MC: Gavin! Don’t laugh! At that height, even a griffin would have difficulties flying up there. Furthermore, people are good at different-

Gavin: Get on.

Gavin leaps onto the griffin, lowering his head to look at me.

The griffin releases an excited caw, its wings flapping up and down.

Faint morning light caresses the side of his face, the gorgeous rosy glow wilfully painting the azure sky.

His hair and indigo cloak roll up with the air currents, the crown on his head reflecting arc lights.

And on his face, there’s a heroic valiance even clearer and more radiant than any jewel.

For a moment, I’m left slightly dazed.

As compared to any other moment, I can clearly sense that he is no longer that little child who had his brows tightly furrowed back then.

The person before me has shed off his childishness, is sufficiently intelligent, and sufficiently mature - a person who is about to become a young king.

I always knew that he was someone worth having faith in.

But there seems to be something else in his eyes that causes my heartbeat to accelerate uncontrollably.

Likely seeing that I haven’t moved in a long time, Gavin leans over, pulling me in front of him steadily, his arms wrapped securely around my waist.

Gavin: Let’s go.

With this soft statement, the griffin, which had been anticipating this for a very long time, flaps its wings, soaring towards the azure sky.

At the same time, a powerful gale whizzes under Gavin’s beckoning.

Using the wind as wings, we fly very, very high.

Gavin: I wanted to take you flying like this since a very long time ago. But I wasn’t able to find a suitable chance.

His words land on my ears amidst the fluttering sound of wind - high-spirited, clear, and without restraint.

I can hear the throbbing of my own heart, reminiscent of the bits of feathers in the air, drifting along with the breeze.

With Gavin around, Griffy doesn’t have to exert much effort, landing at the crown of the World Tree.

There is a rich display of light and colours on the dense and green treetop. Amidst the various lights, a cluster of dazzling crystals emit a tender and dream-like colour.

Gavin: Looks like this is it.

He plucks a crystal deftly, storing it in the travelling bag he carried along.

Seizing this chance, I take several deep breaths to calm the inexplicable throbbing in my chest.

MC: Since we’ve successfully obtained the first item, are we heading to the next destination? Or are we resting here for the night?

Gavin: We’ll set off straightaway. But give me a moment.

Gavin reaches out to pluck a few smaller crystals. Using a few branches around us, he weaves a simple bracelet, then clasps it around my wrist gently.

Gavin: Since you like it, bring a few more back.

Just as he finishes speaking, a few fairies who were grinning among the leaves earlier rush out towards us.

Fairy A: Congratulations! May the fruits of the World Tree protect the two of you forever!

Fairy B: Congratulations on your marriage! I wish you two everlasting sweetness!

MC: Huh?

Watching as the fairies start to sprinkle flower petals over our heads, my face burns with a “whoosh”.

MC: [blushing] What nonsense are you saying?

The fairy grins while speaking once again.

Fairy B: Firstly, don’t the two of you play together often, and like each other more than others?

Very few humans enter my forest. Aside from the small animals, the only one who visits me frequently, chats with me, and has fun with me is Gavin.

As compared to those small animals which aren’t able to talk or bring me snacks, it’s true that I like Gavin a little more.

With this thought in mind, I nod.

At the side, Gavin nods too. But for some reason, the tips of his ears are slightly red.

Fairy A: Secondly, didn’t the two of you make a unique agreement with each other?

Not knowing where this is heading, I nod again. After all, I’m Gavin’s guardian deity.

At the side, Gavin does a similar action.

Fairy A: Lastly, he made a bracelet for you using the crystals of the World Tree, then put it on for you personally. Doesn’t that symbolise that you’re destined for each other?

The fairy says this matter-of-factly, and the surrounding fairies agree in succession.

MC: Wait wait wait wait, this is a misunderstanding! We’re...

The words are at my lips, but I pause.

It seems that I’ve never considered how to define my relationship with Gavin.

I’m his guardian deity, but I can vaguely sense that it goes further than that.

In the end, Gavin takes half a step forward, blocking me from the celebrating fairies.

Gavin: That’s just the tradition of fairies. Humans and deities don’t have such rules. She’s a guardian deity belonging only to me.

-

The heating stove is bright red, and the sound of forging is unceasing.

??: Drink quickly, drink quickly! There are many more barrels!

The dizzying fragrance of alcohol permeates the air. Even if it’s dispelled by the breeze, it lingers for a long time.

??: You’ll only enjoy yourself to the fullest by accompanying it with the best quality cheese! Want a chunk of smoked meat too?

The bustling marketplace is rife with people hawking their wares, cheese, smoked meat, fruits and perfume. The dazzling lineup leaves one overwhelmed.

??: I didn’t expect that humans could drink as well as us! Not bad!

??: After all, he’s a half deity!

A circular table is in the middle of the lively marketplace, surrounded by dwarves who are adept in iron casting.

Aromatic mead courses through the crevices of the crowd and the small path, being sent to the table in a continuous stream.

MC: Gavin, are you sure you can still drink?

This is the first time I’m seeing Gavin drink this much. He wobbles a little while standing beside the table. Fortunately, his eyes are still sober and clear.

Gavin: I’m fine. 

Gavin: [to the dwarves] We agreed that as long as I can outdrink all of you, you’d give the rarest treasure of the dwarves to me - a golden belt praised by all the deities.

Dwarf A: We never lie!

Dwarf B: Goddess, try some! 

Before I can refuse politely, Gavin has already pulled over the wine cup offered to me, drinking it in one mouthful.

Gavin: I’m the one competing against all of you.

Whether it’s due to the mead or the nearby heating stove, my face grows slightly warm.

Another barrel of mead is finished, and the alcohol-loving dwarves at the table have already collapsed.

Gavin presses the wooden wine cup onto the table heavily. Arching a brow, he raises his volume slightly.

Gavin: You’ve lost.

Dwarf A: Fine, you win! The belt belongs to you! But...!

The dwarf stands up wobbly and burps. In front of Gavin, he pats his own chest.

Dwarf A: There’s... there’s something even more... important that I must do! Axe! I want to make an axe - the best axe - and give it to my beloved lady!

While saying this, he runs and staggers towards the forging stove. The dwarves in the surroundings cheer him on and whistle.

MC: What’s happening this time...

The dwarf is inebriated, but his limbs remain deft. He holds up a hammer and picks a chunk of steel which has been scorched red. Then, he begins hammering it with clanking sounds.

Dwarf A: Half Deity! Come here!

Dwarf B: Come and make something too!

The dwarves are rowdy, and they bring Gavin over to a forging stove, teaching him how to forge weapons.

I head over curiously. Gavin seems to think of something. He glances at me, a smile surfacing on his lips.

Then, he holds up a chunk of mithril and gives it a detailed look, as though visualising the shape he wants to carve it into.

After a while, Gavin picks up the iron hammer, hammering in a decisive manner.

Sparks dance in the air, and the flames from the stove are exuberant. The clamour and sounds of hammering are incessant, bringing the celebration of the marketplace to a climax.

Dwarf A: Done!

Cheers erupt from amongst the crowd. That drunk dwarf raises the axe he had forged, then runs towards a small stall in the marketplace.

Dwarf A: This axe is for you, my beautiful woman! Please marry me!

Even from across the marketplace, the loud voice of the dwarf drifts over clearly.

Dwarf B: Hahahaha! Not bad!

The dwarf at the side chuckles so hard that he isn’t able to straighten up. He takes several deep breaths to calm himself down, then turns around to speak to Gavin.

Dwarf B: Half Deity Lad, you too. Your skills are pretty good for a beginner! If you have a beloved lady, don’t hesitate. Just propose directly!

At the other side of the marketplace, the proposal succeeds. A brand new celebration and banquet has already begun.

I don’t bother about the joy which is about to drown us. I simply look at Gavin.

Perhaps he’s drunk a little too much. Right now, he’s staring fixedly at the short staff he forged, a look of contemplation on his face.

What the dwarf said earlier echos in my ears, akin to a mystical magic spell.

Looking at Gavin, I find myself wondering if he’d give that short staff to me.

Would he smile while looking straight into my eyes, or would he avert his gaze in embarrassment?

I’m left dumbfounded by these inexplicable thoughts.

Perhaps I’ve also drunk a little too much.

-

Early the second day, we bid farewell to the dwarves, preparing to continue the journey.

MC: I didn’t think we’d witness a wedding. It’s a pity that we couldn’t hear more about how they met and got to know each other.

Gavin: Mm. I’m also really curious.

MC: It’s rare to see you interested in such topics.

Gavin: After all, meetings are special things to me. Meetings and keeping each other company are very beautiful things.

Gavin’s tone is gentle, as though he’s recollecting his most treasured memories. Pale gold sunlight illuminates his eyes, which are even more dazzling than the most expensive jewels.

In this short trance, a fleeting yet unrealistic thought burrows into my mind without notice.

I shake my head forcefully, and decide to say something to distract myself.

My gaze quickly sweeps around the surroundings, then locks on a target.

MC: Gavin, do you still remember how we met Griffy?

As though he didn’t expect my sudden question, Gavin blinks a few times, then strokes the grown-up Griffy, chuckling as he speaks.

Gavin: Of course I remember.

Gavin: Back then, my mother had already passed on for a few years. And that deity father never appeared. 

Gavin: Perhaps because of those things, I had a pretty bad attitude towards you during that time. Sorry.

Till this day, I can still remember that period of time.

His amber eyes, which always sparkle and shine, were dyed with a heavy grey. Even his hair, which always sticks up, had drooped listlessly.

But it’s precisely because I was always by his side that I understood the heartbreak and struggles he faced during that period of time.

And I rejoiced that at the very least, I was there to keep him company.

I walk towards him, reaching out to tousle his hair. Gavin leans down and comes slightly closer to me, a peaceful smile on his face.

Gavin: In short, I came to the forest one day.

Gavin: It was raining that day. I walked to the vicinity of your small house, and discovered that you were taking care of a small, stray griffin which had wandered here from somewhere.

Gavin: You’re a goddess, but you didn’t care about yourself, and only cared about shielding the griffin from the rain.

Gavin: You treated its wounds and fed it, while getting drenched by the rain yourself.

Along with his depiction, memories surge into my heart, and they are dyed with a hazy colour of rain.

MC: I recall how you shielded me from the rain with a large leaf. Back then, I was thinking about how rare it was to see such gentle moments from you.

Gavin: Since then, I...

Gavin’s voice grows softer and softer. He turns his face away a little unnaturally.

MC: Since then?

Gavin ignores my question. He simply clears his throat and hands me something.

Gavin: MC, this is for you.

Accepting it subconsciously, the cold and smooth texture of metal causes me to hold my breath.

It’s the short staff he had personally forged yesterday.

His emblem is carved on the body of the staff, and a quality gem is mounted at the tip.

MC: This is...

Before I can say anything, Gavin hurriedly explains.

Gavin: I’m a human, so I don’t follow the traditions of dwarves. In the culture of humans, giving a handmade gift to someone is a form of etiquette to express gratitude. So... this is a thank you gift. Thank you for teaching me so much, and for taking such good care of me.

MC: I... I see!

Gavin speaks calmly and appears utterly composed.

Accepting the short staff, I turn around to pack my items. Recalling the image that surfaced in my mind earlier, my face burns again.

Clearing my throat, I ask Gavin a question tentatively.

MC: Gavin, according to your customs, what would you give to your bride?

Gavin: I’d craft a ring personally.

While saying this, he takes my travelling bag and fixes it onto Griffy’s back. Then, he picks up the ancient text to confirm our next destination.

MC: When that time comes, I’ll definitely pluck the most beautiful flowers in the forest and make a wedding bouquet for your bride.

Holding a wedding and having a partner - these are things worthy to be happy about.

But when I said this, I found that I couldn’t bring myself to smile.

It’s as though my heart is drowned in deep water. It feels acrid, and there’s also a tightening in my chest.

I’ve lived for a very long time on this land, witnessed the construction and destruction of many kingdoms, and experienced battles and peace since the ancient times till today.

Yet, I’m unable to understand the feelings I’m currently experiencing, and what they signify.

-

After that, we head to many other places together.

We cross the dessert, fly over the ocean, scale the highest mountain peak, and head to the deepest abyss.

We dance in a sea of flowers along with the odes of travelling bards, and bargain with a gigantic, greedy dragon.

The treasures in the travelling bag increase in number. Every treasure obtained makes it increasingly clearer that this dream-like journey is about to come to an end.

On an unknown empty island, Gavin and I sit side by side on the shore, watching as the waves at our feet lap against the rocks.

Looking at the pearl head ornament Gavin just gave me, my voice comes out hoarser than expected.

MC: What will you do once you become king?

Gavin: Quite a number of races are interested in humans. Perhaps I could try broadening trade. I also have to revolutionise the senate.

He talks about his responsibilities earnestly - from commerce to ruling the country, from art to food.

Gavin’s dead seriousness tickles me to laughter.

I console myself with the thought that even after he becomes king and I’m no longer his guardian deity, our relationship wouldn’t change that much. 

Gavin suddenly stops mid-speech, as though deliberating something.

I turn my head, only to see the reddened tips of his ears.

Gavin: Also... I want to marry the lady I like and make her my queen. This way, I can always be with her.

Gavin looks afar off, his gaze gentle, as though he can see his desired future.

For some reason, I want to rush towards that future with him.

And I suddenly realise what that acrid feeling twirling around in my heart is.

Without realising it, my feelings for Gavin have been intertwined and encased by a sense of possessiveness.

I don’t want him to have another guardian deity, nor do I want him to give these treasures we’ve collected together to another deity.

Most of all, I don’t want him to put a personally crafted ring on the finger of another lady.

The sea breeze rolls up tiny, light blue flowers on the beach. They dance in the air, floating towards the ocean.

At this moment, all the clamorous emotions and feelings quieten down, and are crowned a name and definition -

All of this is called “liking”.

-

The journey is about to end.

Griffy returns us to the ground.

Looking at my forest and at my little courtyard, I feel as though everything happened a lifetime ago.

Gavin: It’s nice to be home.

Gavin retrieves the travelling bag, then pats the fence at the door.

Gavin: Wait. Why do the medicinal plants look even healthier than before I left...

I tug onto Gavin before he can check on the medicinal plants.

MC: The journey has already ended, and you’ve collected sufficient treasures. Are you going to succeed to the throne after this? Looks like my agreement with your mother has been fulfilled.

Gavin: That’s right. But aren’t you going to let me rest at your place and have a drink of water?

MC: You have quite a number of things to handle after this. These treasures need to be offered to the deity. And you also have to... marry the lady you like. You should take action quickly and settle these things at one go!

I give him a stern expression, trying to conceal the childish impetuousness in my heart.

Gavin: Do you think the deity will really like these?

Gavin doesn’t leave. He stands in place, his words bringing with them a smile.

Looking at the full and bulging travelling bag, I feel tremendously envious.

MC: Of course. Who was the one who picked them with you? All right, go and offer them to your new deity. Who are you looking for? I could put in a good word for you so he or she would give you a little more blessings.

My voice grows softer and softer, and my gaze flits around.

Gavin: If she’ll like them, I can put my mind at ease. 

Gavin speaks softly, but doesn’t respond to my question. He takes the travelling bag, placing the treasures we’ve collected on the grass before me.

The crystal from the top of the World Tree, the golden belt crafted by the dwarves, the unwilting flower from the deepest part of the desert, the coral from the deepest oceanic trench...

Aside from the recorded treasures, there’s also cheese from the dwarves’ marketplace, a headscarf from sea nymphs, sun-dried jerky from the giants, and other miscellaneous items.

These items were brought along with Gavin because I liked them.

After setting down the last item, he takes half a step back.

Then, he gets down on one knee, tilting his head upwards to look at me.

Gavin: Goddess of Nature, I give you all of these offerings. Please bestow blessings upon me, protect my country, and crown me.

Gavin: And please make a long-lasting agreement with me, to become my queen, and to keep me company.

Gavin: Till death do us part.

Gavin looks at me, his sentiments and tenderness condensing into honey coloured amber.

Sunlight filters through the leaves, landing on his face like a kiss, making his eyes bright and glittering.

MC: [blushing] I...

Before I can respond, Griffy caws happily, giving me a nudge from behind, causing me to fall into Gavin’s arms.

MC: [blushing] Griffy! I didn’t raise you to be this big so you could do that!

I grumble, pretending to be stern. Then, I close my eyes defeatedly, burying my head in Gavin’s arms, not wanting him to have a clear view of my blushing face.

Gavin’s soft chuckle and his breaths land on my ears, akin to the first tender breeze in early summer.

Gavin: I used to worry that the reason for our interactions was due to that prior agreement. 

Gavin: Once the agreement ended, you would no longer have a connection to me. 

Gavin: I was troubled by this for a while, and also tried to delay that day from arriving. 

Gavin: But one day, I made a decision. 

Gavin: Instead of holding on to that past agreement, why don’t I make a new vow instead.

Gavin tilts his chin towards those treasures.

Gavin: But I don’t want you to simply be a goddess who responds to my prayers.

Gavin: This journey was meant for you to understand that my feelings for you aren’t simply the dependence humans have towards their guardian deities.

Gavin: I just don’t know how effective it was...

Gavins speaks, averting his gaze.

Recalling the hints and occasional bashfulness during the journey, I finally understand everything, and my face turns incomparably red.

MC: [blushing] Right from the beginning, you already...

Gavin coughs softly.

Gavin: So, are you willing?

Watching as his eyes draw increasingly nearer to me, it’s as though a pot of honey has been overturned in my heart, and all the flowers seem to be blooming at the same time.

I lift my hand.

MC: I’m the deity who controls the land, forests, and all the animals.

MC: I hereby make an agreement with you-

The forest seems to respond to my words. Birds outstretch their wings, trees rustle, and the land releases a faint humming sound.

Light flickers at my fingertips, akin to a sprouting bud as it flows and spreads over Gavin’s crown.

MC: I will always protect your kingdom. May your land be forever fertile, and may your kingdom forever be peaceful.

My power weaves my words into an unbreakable vow between us.

As a goddess, these are the strongest blessings I can give to him.

With a small smile, I continue speaking. Softly, I give him the blessings from me as MC, and also my response.

MC: I will also share my life with you, and my power.

MC: I will accompany you for a long time, until the destruction of the earth.

A light blooms, encasing us within it.

Gavin doesn’t speak, and simply looks at me.

I recall the day we saw the sea together, and recall the fluttering light blue petals, and the gaze he had when he stared afar off.

I’m guessing that his gaze has finally found a dwelling place.

The rays of light around us gradually recede, and the vow is established.

This isn’t a lengthy ceremony, nor does it involve complicated steps.

But we have cast a connection different from before - one which is unique in the world.

Having used my powers, I lean into Gavin’s arms, looking at the same sky together.

MC: Aren’t you going to say something?

Gavin: Erm... you really looked like a goddess earlier.

There doesn’t seem to be a change in or relationship. However, there’s a certain sweetness in our dialogue.

MC: I am a goddess! Wait, that’s not what I was referring to. May I invite Your Majesty, who has obtained the goddess’ blessings through his own strength, share his thoughts with us?

Gavin pretends to ponder over this seriously.

Gavin: I just remembered that there’s one thing I haven’t done. I plan to make another trip to the dwarves’ nation.

MC: Did you forget something?

Gavin pulls me up, and we stand together. He pats Griffy, getting it ready to set out.

Gavin: I mentioned before that I’d personally craft a ring for my queen.

Gavin: You also promised that you’d pluck the most beautiful flowers in the forest to make a wedding bouquet.

Gavin: I look forward to seeing it when I return.

🐦 MOMENTS 🐦

Gavin’s Post: If griffins really existed, they'd probably feel quite nice.

MC: Would a griffin’s fur feel like a bird’s or a lion’s?

Gavin: ...I have never thought about this question.

-

Gavin’s Post: If griffins really existed, they'd probably feel quite nice.

MC: If only we could rear one!

Gavin: We might need a larger courtyard to let it build a nest.

-

Gavin’s Post: If griffins really existed, they'd probably feel quite nice.

MC: I really want to bury my face in it...

Gavin: Even though we don’t have a griffin, we could ask Flyer if its willing.

🐦 Calls: First ll Second

🐦 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #feedback on whether keeping the text un-italicised is better on the eyes will be much appreciated!

[bokettochild]

Fic request! Legend and Ravio being best buds and being there for each other? Or like just them getting along. Platonic cuddling? I love them both.

Slight self projection on this one, but oh well!

I really like writing the dynamic for these two! But i would like to clarify that I write it as being strictly platonic.

Yes, Ravio does kiss Legend on occasion. But Ravio is a toucher, and that's just how he loves! For him, that's normal, that's something you do to those you love, not just in couples :)

Legend isn't great about physical touch, mostly because he's unaccustomed to it. He loves it, he just doesn't know how to ask for it or receive it most of the time.

And with that cleared up, on to the fic!!!

Mr. Hero was acting weird again.

His family had come back to visit again, and while many of them were wrapped in bandages and sporting some rather nasty wound, Mr. Hero seemed to be relatively well off from the fight. He wasn’t untouched, this was Mr. Hero after all, but he wasn’t as poorly as some of the others, which is why it was so odd for Ravio to find him curled up on the couch in their living room when he’d thought that everyone had gone to visit the local village.

They’d talked about it over breakfast. They’d arrived yesterday and hadn’t had time to restock in a while. The worse injuries were a broken arm on Mr. Smithy’s part, and that in no way hampered them from being able to do a run to the village, and it seemed many of Mr. Hero’s family saw visiting towns and villages as something of a treat.

They had been so eager over breakfast, talking over each other while Mr. Hero had rolled his eyes and pushed Tune- Wind back into his seat, scolding the champion for chewing with his mouth open and generally just correcting table manners and keeping people under control during the meal. Typical Mr. Hero, fussing over everything being right but pretending not to care, Ravio wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he sees them all they all eat like they’re in a castle, Mr. Hero’s just the kind of person to subtly train them all to behave lest they be faces with his flashing indigo gaze.

But he really would have thought, what with how everyone had chattered, that Mr. Hero would be with them all, leading them through the village and haggling with shopkeepers on the prices of potions and food. Yet here he sits, curled on their couch with that bulky quilt he likes so much thrown over his shoulders. Mr. Hero hasn’t bothered to fix his hair or tuck it under his cap, and it tumbles down his shoulders in a messy tangle as the Hylian stares unseeing at the far wall.

Ravio pauses in the entryway to the living room, his cup of cider still on one hand, and the book he’d been hoping to read in the other, heart torn over walking back into the kitchen and asking why Mr. Hero isn’t with his family. The slight shudder that runs across Mr. Hero's shoulders is all he needs as an answer and it’s without a second thought that the merchant strides across the room to settle on the couch beside his housemate, eyes bright and smile disarming as he looks over to Mr. Hero.

Dull violet meets his own green as Mr. Hero pauses and sighs, gaze shifting back down to the ground.

Oh. Oh, this is bad.

No snark, no dismissal, no ‘Ravio, I’m not in the mood’. Mr. Hero is at a stage where he is simply accepting things, and that’s never good!

“Why the long face?” He prods gently, settling himself on the couch as Mr. Hero moves slightly to accommodate him.

Okay, that’s even worse. Mr. Hero is being accommodating.

Oh Lolia, is he dying?

“Enervated.” Mr. Hero drawls, and Ravio is now officially freaking out. The big words have come out, the big words that he doesn’t know the definition of. His gaze trails back over to his book.

Most people don’t consider reading a thesaurus a past-time, and Ravio never would have considered it before moving in with Mr. Hero, but if he wants to understand the hero than he needs to know all the words that will crop up in his vocabulary anytime he is especially tired or bored.”

“E-enerv-”

“Tired.” Mr. Hero clarifies, shifting in place and drawing the blanket tighter around is shoulders.

Sharp green eyes watch his movements. It’s autumn and a slight chill has pervaded the air, but there really isn’t any need for the heavy blanket in this weather. Maybe a shawl or afghan of some sort, but the thickest and heaviest blanket in the entire house? That’s just plain overkill!

“Just tired?” He doesn’t even bother pretending to respect Mr. Hero’s space as he reaches out to rest his hand on his housemate’s forehead, gently shifting to touch the vet’s cheek. Rather than shake him off, Mr. Hero gently leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed gently as a breath whistle from his lips. Ravio frowns as he pulls back.

Mr. Hero is warm, but not unhealthily so, and it can probably be blamed on the heavy quilt he’s got throw over his shoulders.

The merchant quirks a brow. “Are you cold?”

Mr. Hero’s face twitches oddly, eyes darting up to meet Ravio’s before drifting back down; blank and tired in a way they often are after a long day. But today has not been a long day, he reminds himself, and Mr. Hero must have been in here since finishing dishes with him this morning.

“Yes.” Mr. Hero murmurs softly, more at the folds of his blanket then at Ravio. “But not...outside?”

And that is... that is confusing.

“I don’t understand.” He half wishes for his hood and robe, but he’d only just finished cleaning and he hasn’t put them on again, so he plucks instead at the edge of his scarf, similar to what Mr. Captain Hero Sir does when he’s anxious.

Mr. Hero huffs a breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Glad you don’t.”

He doesn’t like the blankness of Mr. Hero's face or the heaviness of his words. “Can you explain it to me?”

If there’s one thing that brings light into his friend’s eyes, it’s teaching. Mr. Hero loves to share his knowledge, and Ravio has sat contentedly through a dozen lectures on bee-keeping and orchard work or weapons care and traveling precautions and any number of other things. All he ever needs is a cup of cider and a warm nook to bundle himself away while Mr. Hero talks. Goodness knows he chatters quite a bit himself; Mr. Hero deserves to have an audience on occasion too, and he always has such interesting things to say that Ravio never minds listening.

But Mr. Hero’s eyes don’t light up with that glint of passion and his fingers don’t tap with barely contained energy. Quite the opposite. He curls in closer around himself, eyes clouded as he breaths heavily. “It’s like there’s somethin’ ‘side you that’s cold an’ empty. Like you swallowed ice or somethin’ cold like an’ it won’t melt. You can be toasty warm on the outside and it ne’er goes away, it’s jist-” The pink-haired Hylian’s ears flick as his nose twitches with pent up irritation. “It’s like you’re empty and no matter how much you eat or sleep or keep busy, it ne’er goes away.”

Understanding dawns with a heavy heart and tears pricking in his eyes. “I think that's called loneliness, Mr. Hero.”

Mr. Hero’s eyes glisten as he turns away. “’m not lonely. There’s eight people on my tail on the day to day an’ I can’t lose ‘em even if I tried.”

The tight ball Mr. Hero is curled into could be defensive or self-comforting, and he can’t tell which, but Mr. Hero's grip on his blanket laden shoulders is too tight to be anything short of strained.

“Being with people doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely.” Ravio’s voice comes softer than he means it too.

Mr. Hero once complained that his own voice was trapped in the stage of squeaking and breaking, but Ravio’s could drop low ‘till it was nothing but a deep vibration. He’s teased Mr. Hero about it more than once, but he finds that it’s also effective at making the other boy calm. Mr. Hero loosens so now, eyes still blank as Ravio stares at them, hoping that they’ll turn to meet his gaze. “You can feel lonely in the middle of a full kingdom.”

He knows. He remembers hiding in his big room in the castle and wishing that it wasn’t so cold and empty and that someone would look at him and see something other than a cowardly advisor. He'd wanted someone to look at him and see a friend, or a brother or a loved one. He’d wanted to matter and be safe in the warmth that was a real home.

Mr. Hero gave him that. Mr. Hero’s house, with its big apple tree and buzzing bees, it’s pokey little kitchen and creaky staircase, the blasted rocker and the freaky masks on the wall, all of it makes this house a home that is so distinctly Mr. Hero's, yet somehow also his own.

He can see it in the knitting needles stashed in their basket by the couch. In the mugs that he’s left empty on bookshelves and table tops. He sees himself in the drawing of the curtains to let in sunlight, and the organization of the items on the shelves and the wall.

This is their home, something that is both of them, and it’s always felt warm and fulfilling to him.

He’d never realized that Mr. Hero might not feel the same...

It’s on impulse, and the fact that Mr. Hero doesn’t push him away speaks volumes, but Ravio scoots forwards and pulls the veteran hero over to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping tight around his friend as heavy breaths escape from them both.

“Is this better?” He whispers softly against the pink that curls beneath his chin and the fluttering breath of Mr. Hero.

There’s only a faint grunt from the hero in his arms, non-committal, but Mr. Hero isn’t complaining or pushing him away, so he doesn’t let him go either. Never mind that he’s almost pulled his friend on top of him, Mr. Hero needs a hug, and Lolia danggit! Ravio is going to give him the best one he’s capable of!

Mr. Hero’s breath evens out as he adjusts a few times, shifting but never pulling away, and Ravio takes that as a cue to make himself comfortable.

Short, pale fingers trail up to weave through curling pink locks that are still unbrushed from the night before. It’s silky under his touch, a testament to his friend’s alternate form, and he takes no small amount of pleasure in winding his fingers through it and gently tugging out the tangles. Mr. Hero only sighs under his ministrations.

“It’s okay to ask for hugs you know.” He teases softly, almost disappointed that he can’t see how his housemate blushes and stiffens, but Mr. Hero's ears give him away, red as they are, and a smile tugs across his face when he sees it. “I'm sure Mr. Chosen Hero would love to hug you, he seems like that kind of person. And Mr. Smithy always seems fond of that sort of thing. Why, even-”

“Shup.” Mr. Hero huffs, and Ravio grins as his eyes fall down to where his friend’s arms have wrapped around his waist, a messy head of pink lying against his chest and the full weight of hero and blanket pressing down on him.

He doesn’t respond, but he does go back to running his hands through Mr. Hero’s hair.

A tune comes to mind as he sits there, and he lets the melody drift through the room as he absently strokes Mr. Hero’s long pink hair, the book in his hands capturing his attention until soft squeaking snores begin to sound from the hero on his chest.

No one’s there to see the kiss he presses to the mess of petal pink, and when the others return from their trip, neither of the two bunnies is awake to say anything at all.

The heroes stop in the doorway, surprise and fondness taking over their faces at the sight of both of their hosts stretched out over the couch, Legend lying over the top of Ravio, one of the merchant’s hands still resting on Legend’s head while the other hangs down towards the floor, barely grasping the book he'd been reading (Wind makes a comment about reading a thesaurus being strange, but no one really questions it too much). Legend’s arms are still wrapped tight around Ravio’s waist, his cheek pressed against the merchant's chest as squeaking snores escape through parted lips.

They’ve never seen the veteran so peaceful, Time muses as he removed the book from Ravio’s hand and tucks the quilt tighter around the two, noting with surprise it’s weight. Neither hero nor merchant wake, although Ravio does shift in his sleep at the disturbance, but the two are out cold.

There’s the snap of a shutter and a faint coo as he looks up, single blue eye meeting Wild’s own, the champion smiling sheepishly from behind the slate, the image on the screen of him knelt beside the two boys, tucking them in on the couch. Time smiles at his cub. “I want a copy of that picture, you hear?”

“Yes sir.” The champion whispers in return.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu ravio #lu legend #fluffics #linked universe fanfic #linked universe fic requests #lu time #lu wild #not ravio\i #do not tag as ship #thank you!

[revirushifaa]

Sweet Memories

Summary: One night when Lucifer is checking old books for paperwork that he needs done, he stumbles with an old photo album with his angel years with the rest of his brothers. Leviathan is the only brother he knows being awake, so he calls him to check them with him.

Note: These are my headcanons on how the bros were as angels. Satan is not there for obvious reasons, these events happened before the Celestial War, so Satan is non-existent there.

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

"Where could I have put it? Hm..." Lucifer mused as he was searching for some old documents that could help him with the paperwork he was currently doing, late night and busy as ever, he was given the chance to rest but he decided to work instead.

"Hm? Hey, this is..." when he spotted a certain book, he stopped his search and picked it up, the book was a bit dusty, so he blew it and wiped it off with his gloves, seeing what the book was about, he sighed softly.

His angel years with his brothers, that was the photo album that they all agreed to have as memories for when they had their previous life. Lucifer flipped the book open and began looking at the pictures, a small smile crossing his features. All his brothers as little angels.

He had an idea, he grabbed his D.D.D and texted Leviathan.

'Levi, can you come to my room?'

Levi was likely still awake having a marathon of his favorite anime. He, however felt his phone vibrated and pulled it out, blinking.

"Lucifer wants to see me? Wonder what he wants."

He wasn't all that nervous since he and Lucifer had very positive bonding times just the two of them, he paused his anime and got up, sending an 'on my way' text back to Lucifer. He knocked on the eldest's door.

"Lucifer, I'm here."

The door was open and Lucifer greeted his younger brother with a small smile.

"Come in, Levi."

Levi walked in, as the door behind him closed behind and took a seat on a couch in Lucifer's room.

"Remember this?"

Levi's eyes widened at seeing the photo album. "No way! You have our photo album! I never thought, you would save that..."

"I did of course. I could never let these memories go lost in space... the only memories of being a angel that I would never forget." Lucifer nodded, showing the pictures to his brother. Levi looked at them with a certain fondness, he had to admit, these moments were really magical, they all were very close as angels, but didn't mean now as demons they were not anymore, they still were brothers, but some differences were in the way, still though, they appreciated one another in their own way.

"Oh this one photo..." Levi looked at the picture. It was one when he was just a few years born, like four. He was afraid of swinging in a swing that was put their merely for the little angels' fun. "I was so frightened, until you swung with me, Lucifer, I didn't even want to swing with Mammon, but you." he chuckled a bit. "Guess, I was a bit of a skiddish baby angel."

Lucifer chuckled. "Yes, only with me, you were able to cast your fear away. Look at that, I still remember as if it was just yesterday you were born, you're so grown up, little brother..." he sighed, where had time gone to. His brother was an adult demon, not that sweet shy little angel of the picture.

Levi looked embarrassed. "Lucifer, please, you're embarrassing me.." he couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed at his brother's words, but smiled fondly the picture, remembering how it went.

Long, long ago...

"What's that?" Little angel Leviathan asked, as he stared at the new structure while he was hiding behind Mammon.

"It's just a swing, Father ordered for it to be put for our fun! I think it's awesome, wanna try it, Levi?" Mammon asked his little brother, turning around a little to see him.

"N-no, thanks. Seems dangerous." Levi shook his head, refusing to go on and sit on the swing in front of him.

"Oh, c'mon, Levi! It'll be much fun!" The white-haired angel moved to pick up his little brother, who squirmed in his hold and cried.

"No, no, no! Put me down, Mammon! Put me DOWN!" He wailed, his eyes pricking with tears at the corners.

"What seems to be the matter." A deep voice asked behind the angels. Angel Lucifer had come to check on his little brothers, seeing Levi crying in Mammon's arms.

"Mammon, put Leviathan down, he is scared. You should not force him to do something he does not not want to do." Lucifer ordered, folding his arms and eyeing his second brother disapprovingly.

Mammon pouted and placed, sobbing little Levi down. "But I just wanted to show him the swings and swing with him! I wasn't even hurting him, Lucifer!"

"Yes, I know that. But, he does not want that." The older angel stated as he approached his brothers and crouched down to Levi, putting a hand on his head, speaking softly to him. "Levi, it is alright, it is just a swing." He held his small hand.

Levi sniffled and looked up at his brother. "It won't hurt me?"

"No, it will not," Lucifer cleaned up Levi's teary eyes with his thumb and smiled gently down at him. "Would you like to try it? I will go with you." Unlike how Mammon asked him, Lucifer didn't immediately pick him up to put him there by force, he used words first, instead of actions.

Seeing that his wise older brother was asking him gently first, Levi nodded his head a little. "Okay, but, Lucifer, go with me."

"Of course, brother mine, I will go."

The older angel led the younger angel by the hand to the swing and let him see him, not urging him to sit on if he didn't want to. Levi let go of his brother's hand and moved slowly to the swing, lightly poking it, seeing it didn't do a thing to him back. But he didn't want to sit on, still unsure of it.

"Do you want me to sit with you, brother?" Lucifer offered him and Levi thought for a moment, before nodding, trusting him. Lucifer picked him up gently, sitting down on the swing, placing Levi on his lap, holding him with an arm around the child's chest, and holding onto the side of the swing with his free arm.

"Mammon, can you push us?"

"Yes, I can!" Cheerily, Mammon moved forward and started pushing Lucifer in the swing with Levi.

"W-woooooooaaaah! I can see our room from here!" Levi squeaked, seeing the sight before him as he went back and forth.

Lucifer chuckled. "Impressive, right? This is what you see when you swing." He replied gently, holding securely onto the swing and his brother.

"And I can push you the highest, you haven't seen a thing yet, brothers!" Mammon giggled with a grin, and pushed the other angels as high as he could.

Levi kept aweing as Lucifer calmly swung with him, replying to anything the child told him, having much fun. He was a teenager angel, but he didn't mind being around his kid brothers, that was what he enjoyed doing, he was their big brother and as their big brother, he promised to be with them always.

A picture was taken without the brothers' knowledge, one that would be saved as a very dear memory.

Present time

Levi sighed as he remembered how that went. "Lucifer, this memory is by far my favorite one. There's more I know... but this one, makes it very special." He smiled, looking at his kid self holding onto the swing with his brother, he looked so excited and Mammon happily pushing them from behind.

Lucifer had also remembered the memory, a look full of fondness as he sighed. "Sometimes I wish things were like those times again, where we didn't have to worry about a thing, just of living and staying together... will never forget these wholesome times." He flipped the pages and smiled softly, at the next picture.

"Ah, look at this one, you fell ill and I had to stay behind to care for you, missing the feast with the other brothers. You were a little older here."

Levi smiled back. "I was like ten/eleven, can't remember but, I felt happy you cared too much for staying with me." He really did, Lucifer's will was to stay with him until he got better with his cares.

Long, long ago

"Where is Leviathan?" Lucifer asked his younger brothers, he was holding his infant sister Lilith in arms. "The feast is starting soon and we cannot go without him."

"Last I checked, he was still sleeping. I didn't want to wake him up, so I let him sleep more." Mammon replied, he was holding little baby angel Belphie in arms while Asmo had Beel in his own arms.

Lucifer frowned softly. "Still in bed? Odd for him, normally he's up at the same time as Mammon... I will go check on him." He gently put Lilith in Mammon's arms. "Watch Lilith, too." He instructed as Mammon adjusted the infant angel in arms, so she fit in as he was holding Belphie at the same time.

Lucifer walked inside the temple and to his brother's room, knocing in softly. "Levi?" He called and waited. When he got no answer, he opened the door and stepped inside, seeing his brother still in bed. He walked over to him and placed his hand on his forehead to wake him, frowning concerned, seeing he had a fever.

"Oh no. This can't be good." His brother had a fever, that meant it was some heavenly flu that he came down with.

Levi groaned and slowly opened his eyes. "L-Lucifer...? Is it the feast already?" his voice was hoarse.

"Almost, but you aren't well, are you?"

Levi shook his head. "I feel hot and very yucky." He had bas taste because of his cold.

Lucifer frowned. "You have heavenly flu, brother mine. You cannot get out of bed like this."

"B-but what about the feast?! Father's not gonna be happy with me skipping it, you know how he is..." Levi bit his lip a little.

Lucifer shook his head. "No. I will tell him you caught a cold, and I will stay behind to take care of you until you get better."

Levi smiled feebly. "Thank you, big brother... you're so nice to me."

Lucifer ruffled his indigo hair and sent a message by thought to his Father, explaining everything to him. Then nodded when he was immediately replied.

"Do not worry, Levi. Father knows now and he will not be mad for skipping the feast, I will stay here with you." He said reassuringly, then stood. "I just have to tell the rest of our siblings that we won't be joining them in the feast."

At Levi's nod, the older angel left the room to see his other siblings and spoke to them.

"Listen, everyone. Levi is ill with heavenly flu and won't be joining us. I will stay behind and take care of him, the rest of you will go to the feast with no exception."

"Do we take our baby siblings there? Beel and Belphie can eat solids now, but Lilith is merely born a few hours ago, what should she eat while all of us are eating?" Mammon asked, a little thoughtful.

"Feed the twins with bland food, there should be bottles of milk for our sister. Your caretaker, Uriel will take you to the feast and watch over you, while I'm with Levi. Now, behave yourselves and do not cause any sort of trouble, or there will be consequences. You don't wish to upset Father either." Lucifer said to the rest of the little angels and they all nodded at him or rather Mammon and Asmo, for the last of the siblings were still very young to speak clearly.

Pleased with their answers, Lucifer whirled to stay with sick little Levi and sat by his bed side. "I am here, Levi." he assured softly, rubbing his hot forehead.

"Big brother, I feel yucky..." Levi whimpered, being the sensitive little brother, he was beginning to whine at being sick.

"Shh, shh, do not speak much, sleep," Lucifer hushed him softly. "Do you want me to sing a lullabye to you?"

Levi nodded, his brother's soothing voice helped him calm down easily. Lucifer cleared his throat and began singing to his little brother, holding his hand.

"Little brother mine,

Hush now, close your eyes,

Dream of a wonderful world with all of us,

Little brother mine,

Hush now, lay your head close to my chest,

You will dream peacefully, not a single nightmare,

Little brother mine,

Hush now, sleep tightly, tightly..."

When he was done singing, Lucifer turned to look at Levi and he was once again sleeping, his little hand holding his tightly and the older angel smiled warmly, reaching over and planting a brotherly kiss to his head. That lullabye was sung to him when he was a mere baby, he sung it to Mammon and Levi when they were little infants, and still sung it to them and the rest of his siblings, only changing the lyrics when it was sung to Lilith.

"Sleep well, get well soon, little brother mine..."

Present time

"Lucifer..." Levi suddenly mumbled. Lucifer turned to him from the book.

"Yes?"

"What changed you to who you are now? You were so caring, rarely even yelled or punished us like how you do now..." Lucifer sighed. He knew he would be asked that question eventually, so he was honest with his answer, not telling a single lie.

"I turned strict because of your own good and the others... you all needed a firm hand in discipline, not just gentleness or not consequences at all. I... I would not take it to see any of you go forever for any rash behavior... you all are very important to me... all of you. Even if I'm hard as a rock or unmoving... you will always be my little brothers, nothing will ever change that."

Leviathan understood the need to be more firmer now that they all were demons, when they were angels they didn't do any mischief as the one most of them did nowadays.

"Yeah, I get that, I just miss your old caring you so much..."

Lucifer wrapped an arm around Levi's shoulders. "I'm still caring, you all just don't know when I do it and I prefer doing it secretly." He explained, squeezing Levi's shoulder.

"Hm. Well, I should be grateful you still show me the same care as when I was a tiny angel, thank you, Lucifer..." shyly, Levi admitted earning a quick chuckle from Lucifer.

"Don't mention it, brother mine. Still want to see more photos?"

"Yeah, absolutely."

And both brothers kept watching more pictures of sweet memories and remembering the sweet and dear moments that they had back at the Celestial Realm.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lilith #no satan #mentions of lilith as a baby angel #mizu's writing #headcanons #angel brothers #angel brothers before they turned into demons #before the celestial war #fluff

[moonctzeny]

Cygnus

pairing: royal!ten  x fem!reader x villain!doyoung

genre: angst, smutty elements but not anything too much

word count: 4,8k

warnings: ‘forced’ marriage, mentions of death, blood, stabbing (not too descriptive I promise), manipulation

summary: “When your father, the king, gets brutally assasinated in his royal quarters, you realise how big of a threat the opposing Indigo kingdom really is. In order to further protect both your kingdoms, prince Ten proposes a unification by proposing to you. Amidst your duty as his queen and your inappropriate meetups with your royal advisor, Doyoung, you’re not sure where your heart really belongs”

a/n: This fic has a lot of referencing of the past. Just to clarify: if a part is written in the past tense and is inside the separators, it’s y/n recounting past events

requested by/written for my dear French Anon ❤️❤️ I hope you like it 🥰

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The starry night spreads like a veil over the kingdom. Your kingdom, ever since your head was adorned with a veil of your own. The moonlight, pale and bright, illuminates all the stories of the night. From the mothers that kiss their children goodnight, praying that the impending war doesn’t find them in their adolescence, to the whispering silhouettes of the King’s traitors, plotting with the opposing kingdom to overrule his reign.

Like the weeping willows of your royal garden, you sit alone in the dance hall’s balcony, gazing at the sky’s unknown that always felt so comfortable to you. How dull and drab you must look, even in the ornate gown you were in, amidst all the decorations and joyous music of your wedding’s one year anniversary. Maids, peasants, guards- they all congratulated you on your happy marriage, wishing the queen a long life of prosperity. Even Sirius, the prettiest diamond in the sky, seemed to shine like a spotlight for tonight’s celebration.

“y/n? It’s time for our royal dance.”

You recognized the silky voice to be that of the King’s, your longest companion other than the stars. In spite of all of your misery, Ten, the man you swore to hold in weakness and in health, till death do you part, was someone you valued deeply.

You first met the prince in your early teens, travelling to his neighboring kingdom with your father. He was still a young boy, bothered with the blemishes on his face and excited to play with the snow covering the windowsills of his room. The only person who could relate with the insecurities and troubles of an heir like yourself.

“Why are the peasants hungry while we throw away most of our food?”

"Why does the Indigo kingdom want to declare war on us when we both have enough wealth to live on?"

 "Do you think that when we grow up, we will become just like our parents?"

The prince was thoughtful and gentle, a pacifist in the wrong position. Talented in the arts, in dance, in anything that is as beautiful as he is.  

His beloved subjects do not know it, but the nickname Ten, was given to him by you. 

It was probably the third time you met the prince, excited to spend time with your only friend just a day before your 15th birthday. He had been bugging you over what you wanted from him as a present, the beautiful jewelry and dresses his father gifted you seeming too impersonal to him. You shook off his offers, insisting that him being there with you, in your castle’s terrace, was more than enough. 

You were gazing at your beloved stars and he was gazing at you, rambling on and on about the celestial objects in the sky.

“And what star is this?”, he asked curiously, eyes reflecting the constellations and sparkling in the night. Chittaphon, unlike the countless teachers insisting astronomy for a princess was useless, was endlessly entertained by your knowledge and always thirsty to learn more. His finger was pointing at Deneb, one of the brightest stars of the night sky.

“This star is part of a greater ten-star constellation, Cygnus”

“Cygnus?”

“It means swan in greek”, you explained and he squinted his eyes cutely, trying to find the resemblance to the bird.

“According to greek mythology, Phaethon, the son of Helios the sun god, demanded to ride his father’s sun chariot for a day. Unfortunately, he 

was unable to control the reins, forcing Zeus to destroy the chariot with a thunderbolt, with Phaethon drowning in the river Eridanus where it fell. Phaethon's lover, Cygnus, dived into the river for days on end to collect Phaethon's bones, in order to give him a proper burial. The gods were so touched by Cygnus's devotion and deep grief, that they turned him into a swan and placed him among the stars.”

Chittaphon, intrigued by the story, stopped plucking out the roots of the grass you were sitting on, and decided to lay his head comfortably on your lap. His hair looked so pretty that you couldn’t help but run your fingers through its softness, the intimacy making your heart skip a beat.

“That is my greatest fear”

You were so lost in your contentment that you’d almost miss his whispered confession. Placing your hands on his cheeks carefully, you turn his face so that he looks at you, and it takes everything in you not to lean down and kiss his pout away.

“Hm?”

“What if, when I finally take the reins of my father’s kingdom, I end up ‘drowning’ as well? What if I’m too weak to control them and someone stronger than me decides to destroy me?”

With a sigh, you look back up to the sky. As an only child and therefore sole heiress, the worry of leading a kingdom was the main cause of your night scares as well. You were just teenagers, still figuring out yourselves, but Chittaphon wasn’t some ditzy child. He didn’t care about the lushes and gold, he wasn’t power hungry. His idealism and ethos were admirable, and you felt safe knowing that when the time comes, he would be your ally.

“You’ll make a great king one day”

He smiles up at you, his happiness lighting up the night sky. He always shone the brightest.

“You really mean that?”

“I do. And if you don’t, I promise to collect your bones and bury you properly”

He laughed heartily at your joke, and you continued to braid his locks, counting the freckles on his face until your heartbeats synced with the other.

You just laid there, thinking the prince had fallen asleep in your arms, when he spoke again.

“I don’t know how, but one day I’ll gift you those ten stars. And it will be the best birthday present you’ll ever receive”

That’s how you got through adolescence, holding on to Ten’s promise, and dreaming of whatever life might offer you. And life seemed to be gentle on you, up until a couple of years ago. Up until the incident.

Ten takes your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles tenderly with his thumb, and leads you to the dance hall. The skin is scabbed and rough from you compulsively scrubbing it every time you take a bath. You’d watch the water endlessly run through your fingers, yet no amount of soap could flush the memory of the deep red of your father’s blood staining them.

It was a Friday like any other, a walk in the royal gardens at 6 and then your waltz dance class at 7. You replayed the new choreography over and over in your head, drunk in your instructor’s praises and wanting to show off. Skipping the steps of the stairwell leading up to the king’s room, you wish you had taken a jacket with you. Goosebumps started appearing on your arms, both from the cool night breeze and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Your father was the reason you started waltz lessons. “One day you’re going to marry a man to queendom and you’ll better be able to keep up with me on our father-daughter dance”. You’d just giggle and tell him you had plenty of time till that day, you were just stepping on your twenties, no reason to step on a dancefloor too! But alas, one dance recital from Ten and your father was sold on the idea of getting you to take some lessons. You chuckled to yourself. Come to think of it, your father just really loved Ten.

You reach the heavy door of his suite, opened by just a slice. While there was light coming from the room, illuminating the hallway you were standing at, there was no one guarding it. You found it a little strange that the guard’s huge frame didn’t block your way from your father like he like always did, yet you were happy. Your father always acted colder to you around him.

“Dad, dad, look what I learned toda-“

The sight of his cold, lifeless body brought you to your knees. The cause of death was obvious, with the dagger shoved deep inside his guts, but if you asked anyone in the kingdom, they’d tell you he died from a bad heart. He loved heavy food, and alcohol, the meals suited to a king. No one other than a select few could know that the king was assassinated in his own bedroom.

But that was not your only secret.

You don’t know how, but Ten has managed to finally drag you in the middle of the dance hall. Your shoes clack against the marbled floors and the music brings you momentarily back to the now that you want to escape so badly. The music sounds familiar, you think, and you stay still for a second, trying to identify the song.

Your king brings you closer, one hand steady on your waist, the other keeping your fingers intertwined. He hums to the tune and looks at you with those eyes, those dark eyes that always hold a certain sadness in them. And when he starts to lead, it finally hits you that this is the song you got engaged to.

It was Ten’s idea, actually. With the rumours of a murder travelling to the neighboring kingdoms, including the Indigo kingdom making statements of invasive strategies against you, a form of alliance was clearly needed to be made. 

He showed up to the royal conference room, all dressed up and holding a bouquet of red roses. You could hear his heart thumping as he approached you, his hands sweaty and clammy when he held yours.

“My queen, there is no denying our kingdoms are in a crisis”. His familiar voice was comforting to you, yet the words seemed too formal to be leaving Ten’s mouth. “The Indigo kingdom has indirectly declared war on you. They are powerful, especially with the weapons they possess. And their men are notorious to be ruthless and as cold as ice.”

You gulped visibly, your mouth getting dry at the thought of your people getting as violently killed as your father. Looking at any place possible other than his eyes, you wondered why he took the time to pay you a visit, just to point out the things that you were already more than worried about.

“My kingdom has great soldiers, skilled and apt in martial arts, yet they miss one thing, one thing that your peaceful kingdom can offer mine. Your servants love you, my queen, and they are willing to do anything for you”. He stops and takes a breath, handing you the bouquet he had been holding in his other hand. “I know I would”

The sweet scent that hits your nose matches his sentiment, yet the glossiness in his eyes -that you finally picked up the courage to face- told you things would get bitter soon.

“Are you suggesting we form an alliance for the war? Our kingdoms might be on good terms now, yet our predecessors used to be enemies for hundreds of years. There is still a lot of mistrust weaved in the hearts of the people.”

“I know”, he said, his voice breaking lightly. A thorn from the bouquet pricked your skin as you saw him fall down on one knee, a drop of blood falling from your finger as a teardrop stained your face. “That’s why I am asking for your hand in marriage. Let our kingdoms become one”

You were the one who said ‘I do’, yet the decision was already taken for you. Your whole life, in fact, was painted right in front of your eyes, hues of marsala reds and hunter greens. Hues like the ones Ten put on his palette almost every night before you go to sleep.

You and Ten had never slept together. He insisted that it was never his intention when marrying you, and he’d completely respect your boundaries. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t had a thought of laying with him, as you helped him remove the drying paint off his fingers every night. You couldn’t ignore the twitch of your sensitivity as he saw you changing into your silk robe and nightgown, nor the heat of your face when he called you beautiful. His pretty voice was made for begging and teasing and singing out moans. With his flexibility and core strength, you could only imagine what he’d be like in the bedroom. Just the image of his feline eyes looking up at you from between your thighs sent chills down your spine.

That being said, you always felt a bit annoyed by his chivalry as he slipped through to the guest room to spend the night. Through his proposal, he had ridden you of the chance to choose your other half, doomed you to endless nights of loneliness and a cold half of the bed. He should’ve at least taken responsibility.

Not even the guards could know that the two of you didn’t share a bed, the alliance holding on the thin thread of facade you played out for everyone. Sweet kisses in the breakfast room, fake smiles and the silent mourning of your freedom. But that wasn’t your only secret.

You see a hand tapping lightly the velvet shoulderpads of the King’s suit, causing you to halt your dancing. A man, about half a head taller than Ten, successfully steals his attention from you.

“My king, may I steal the lovely queen for a dance?”

Kim Doyoung.

Tall, nice-mannered, lethally handsome. Your father’s trustiest advisor ever since he turned 18 and one of the most respected men in the castle. If the king is the jungle’s lion, then Doyoung surely is a jaguar, attacking his enemies unexpectedly, emerging from their blind spot. He is also your secret.

Kim was the one who found you crying over your fathers body, notifying the knights of the murder since you had no voice to scream for help. He offered you a shoulder to lean on during your grief, while helping you manage the kingdom in your inexperience. It was inevitable to come closer to the man you spent countless hours with at the royal meetings, who you wined and dined with daily, who led you through your duties and made everything make a little bit more sense.

The attraction you felt for him however, well, that was on you. 

It started one night, warm like this one, when the diplomatic settlements with a new kingdom took way too long to figure out, and the pair of you were stuck in his personal office at the early hours of the morning. 

Your hair was a frizzy mess, eyebags darkening the thin skin of your under eyes and all you could focus on was the ink slowly spilling from the metal tip of your pen. And Doyoung, though hardworking and diligent as always, showed the signs of exhaustion as well, stretching his neck from side to side to release the tension.

A crack from his joints grabbed your attention, or rather his skin that was glowing in the limelight. 

He was wearing a beautiful silk shirt, the fabric matching his rich stature and highlighting the delicate lines of his body. His collarbones, sharp like him, peeked from the buttons he had been unfastening, one by one, all the while keeping his eyes on yours.

Your mind wandered under his stare that did nothing short of stealing all oxygen from your lungs. Every slither of your bare skin that landed on it was starting to burn up, and you assumed that’s what his touch must feel like as well. You imagined unbuttoning the rest of his shirt yourself, giving his shoulders a little massage to help him relax. You’d run your hands down this torso, marking it lightly with your fingernails, until you felt that little line of hair right over his pelvis.

The thought is too sinful, so you return to the document in front of you, yet all of your concentration dissolves when the advisor suddenly places the back of his hand against your forehead. His touch is cool and refreshing against your hot skin, yet the proximity only raised the temperature of your body more.

“My queen, you look exhausted. Have you been sleeping properly since the… incident?”

You wince at the memory and shove it down your subconscious again, shaking your head as if the dark thoughts would just brush off of you.

“Not really. I keep tossing and turning. I lay on my bed and I just feel so- so lonely.”

Immediately realising how suggestive your words sound you put your hand over your lips, but Doyoung removes them, taking your raised hand in his and kissing the top.

“My duty as your advisor is to rid you of your worries, my queen. Apparently, I’m not doing a good job, so tell me”. You let your eyes fall on his plush lips, holding your breath as his sweet talk leaves them. He mouths the next words against your wrist, and you can feel every movement of his mouth against your sensitive skin. “What can I do to relieve your stress?”

You can’t stop staring at the smoothness of the junction of his neck so you leave a light layer of your lipstick on it, the pink hue against his pale skin reeling you back to reality.

“Advisor, this is not right”, you try to excuse, “I cannot allow myself to take advantage of your duties like that”

Your eyes stay glued on his neck, and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in a chuckle. He guides your hand, that is still in his grasp, and boldy places it over his thigh, your pinky finger grazing against a hardness that is most definitely his-

“Can’t you see what you do to me? What does a man have to do to be yours for the night?”

And that’s how he ended up tangled in your sheets every night, sneaking in your room silently so that the guards don’t notice him. 

“It’s been one year, huh?”

You smell the citrusy after notes of wine in his breath, his lips slightly stained by the liquid. He looks just as addictive as the alcohol he consumed tonight, covered in the silk fabric that he loves so much.

“Have you been drinking again?”

“What else am I supposed to do when I see my queen dancing with that bastard?”

“That bastard is your king, yet you talk so lowly of him”

“And that king is your husband, but you were moaning my name on your wedding night”

You had changed into a white nightgown, the ivory dress discarded on your bathroom’s floor. The beads that were delicately weaved into the wedding gown sure were heavy, but that was not the reason you felt so suffocated in it. You had to sit there for hours, resenting everyone who made a toast for the husband and wife. The celebrations seemed endless, the wine abundant, their laughs maniacal. Your wedding ceremony was the image of luxury and opulence, yet you felt so poor.

Your feet led you to his room on their own, swollen and cut from all the dancing in heels. When Doyoung saw you, angry and choked up with all the injustice you felt, he offered to do what he was the best at. Distract you with his touches, his wet kisses, his sweet nothings. 

A pang of guilt ran through you the moment your back hit the wall, his body trapping you between the cold surface and the overwhelming heat of his body. You wondered if Ten was still sleeping in your newlyweds’ suite, if he was pretending that he dozed off, what he was thinking. You knew you were selfish for only thinking about your feelings, as if you were the only one forced into this marriage. But then Doyoung’s fingers danced on the hem of your dress, and your mind would go blank with lust.

“This is wrong”, you said out loud, a statement directed mostly at yourself rather than Doyoung.

“You coming here?”

“This. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to come this close to you”

“Divorce him”

You blinked back at him a couple times, trying to register what came so nonchalantly out of his mouth.

“Out of all people, advisor, you know exactly why I can’t”

His hand slid upwards, following the heat of your core, yet his fingers never touched where you needed him most. Small indentations were formed on the softness of your thighs, caused by his rings, and you wished the marks would stay forever. The shirt he wore as his sleepwear was oversized on his small frame, the iris tattooed on his shoulder peeking out from the fabric, as if it flowered on his skin.

“Out of all people, my queen, you know I can give you so much more than him”

As if knowing you’d argue with him, he started to nibble the skin on the middle of your neck, forcing your voice to bubble out muffled and weary.

“But advisor-“

“Say my name”

He let the pad of his finger fick your clit, and you moan “Doyoung” out, the name addictive on the tip of your tongue. So you say it again.

“Doyoung, I need you”

You felt his grin clearly against your skin, you wetness dripping on his fingers and covering his rings. His next words came out with a gravelly sound:

“I might hurt you, my queen”

Your whole life was laid out in front of you, from the wedding ring that weighted down your finger, to you laying on your royal deathbed, looking back at a lifetime that was never really yours. A linear progression to unhappiness, but you hated straight lines. 

“I want it to hurt”

Doyoung brings your body closer to yours, perhaps way closer than the etiquette allows, his hand on your lower waist sliding as near to your ass so as not to raise suspicion. He dips his head forward in a way that makes you think he’d leave a tipsy and careless kiss on your lips, but he whispers in your ear instead.

“Why haven’t you left him already?” The question is bold, especially between all these people, especially in the celebration of the wedding he asks you to break off. “I thought you said you’re mine”

“I am, but-“, your head moves towards the king’s direction, whose eyes are boring holes through the pair of you. You feel so small under his stare, suddenly feeling dirty. 

“He doesn’t even love you” 

There is a weird feeling bubbling in your stomach when you finally make eye contact with Ten, all his forms in which you’ve seen him through the years running in your mind. The innocent boy who became your best friend, the uncertain teenager who became your first love. The empathetic king, the mourning friend. The dependable spouse.

“But you do”, Doyoung concludes incredulously, his right eyebrow raised. It’s as if he tied together the pieces of a big jigsaw puzzle, the disappointment and anger and determination all trying to fit in his handsome features.

A hand draws your body away from Doyoung quite aggressively, and you quickly realise it’s Ten who has caught up with you. He intertwines your fingers together, pulling you into your previous dancing position but something is different this time.

“Times up. My wife’s too precious of a gem to let go of for longer”

Doyoung scoffs lightly, but hides it with a small bow to his king, leaving the two of you alone like he was asked. The tension between you and Ten is so thick it felt like all the lies you’ve told your kingdoms liquified into a thick substance that’s suffocating you now. His fingers are digging in your hips, in a possessive manner that’s a first for him, and he takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Do you ever think of me when you’re having sex with him?” 

The question catches you so off guard that you ungraciously step on his feet, wobbling on your heels until he helps you find your balance. 

“Why would you ask that?”

Now, you weren’t trying to play clueless, you know Ten is smart. You see the way he studies you and Doyoung, how he catches your secret glances, the electric touches. He surely has figured out where you sneak off every night and whose cologne you reek off the next morning. What you don’t understand, is where all his dislike for your advisor stems from.

Ten just chuckles bitterly, letting a puff through his nose, with a face of almost disgust when he looks at you.

“I don’t understand why I feel this way. I don’t understand why I care about you when you’re plotting with him against me. Why I feel jealous every time I see his filthy hands on you, or why I still think you deserve better.”

Plotting against him?

You’re left with a mouth gaped open, his harsh words both hurting you and confusing you as his voice gets even more strict than before.

“I thought maybe if I asked you to marry me you’d slowly distance yourself from him. I thought that maybe, just maybe, you reciprocate a handful of all the things I feel for you. But you still stay by his side, hanging from his every word”, he says it all in one breath and his eyes are watery when he addresses you again. “How can you sleep soundly next to me when you’re fucking the man that killed your father?”

A buzzing sound rings in your ears and you realise that you’re one breath away from falling apart.

And just like that, everything makes sense.

Why Doyoung was the first to find your father’s body, why the assasination seemed like an inside job. His sudden romantic interest in you and his pleas to have him as your king instead.

The indigo flower that decorated his body.

Ten shakes you a little, worried now at your sudden stiffness and the loss of blood from your face. He didn’t expect this reaction from you, didn’t expect to see your body shake with anger like this. You seem even more shocked than he was when he found out about Doyoung’s true nature, but, aren’t you the advisor’s accomplice in the plot of his overruling? 

“Wait, all this time- you didn’t know?”

Ten’s eyes widen as his body jerks forward, and you barely manage to catch him in your arms. A woman’s shriek resonates in the dance hall; the musicians halt their playing with a scratchy sound of the strings that stretch out of tune. And then you see the blood, staining the marble floor under Ten in small drops. You also see Doyoung emerging from behind him, with a maniacal look on his face, and a dagger in his hands. 

All hell breaks loose. The unarmed guests scream in fear, urging outside the dance hall in flocks. Glasses of wine shatter on the floor, women leave their heels behind in their hastiness to save themselves. You see the knights running in your direction, creating a shield of protection for you and the king, yet you notice that not all of them have gathered around you. A good part of them stand next to Doyoung, his face distorted in a mischievous grin. The extent of the betrayal in your kingdom shocks you, but when the first knight launches forward with his sword, you know you need to get Ten out of there immediately.

Throwing Ten’s arm over your shoulder, you drag him with difficulty all the way to the balcony, desperately trying to mute out the shrill sound of swords clashing in the process. You manage to bring him to safety, laying him down carefully in the same spot he found you in before, his head on your lap. After unbuttoning his shirt, you inspect the stab under his ribcage, and you swallow a scream at the sight of the deep wound. The most you can do is rip a big piece of cloth from your skirt, tying it up tightly around his waist, and wait until the fight is over. 

You see clear drops falling on his face that is turning sickly pale and you realise you’re crying. Holding his face between your hands, you get reminded of those days you went starseeing, of those moments of absolute peace with him that you wished would last forever. His body is cold and the cloth is turning burgundy, but he has the most tranquil smile on his face as he looks up at you. 

“Stay with me, please”, you sob over his rigid body, hugging it tightly as if his existence will just slip right through your fingers. “Live with me, and I’ll gift you all the stars in the sky”

#neowritingsnet #nct angst #ten angst #doyoung angst #nct scenarios #ten fic #doyoung fic #ten smut #doyoung smut #ten scenarios #doyoung scenario #ten imagine #doyoung imagine #wayv angst #chittaphon #wayv #nct

[kim-monsterlings]

Torben - M Fae x F Human (Reader)

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: SFW/Orange, dancing with fae, hinted romance, minor angst, pinned to a wall, throat kissing (if there is anything below which needs to be mentioned here in future, let me know!)

Wordcount: 2588

"I don't have a date."

Reyna lifted a golden tinted eyebrow. The sly smile was warning enough, as were her jewelled fingers lifting towards the soft petals woven into your gown. "Take Torben. He invited you tonight, after all."

Her touch drifted from the blush bell sleeves, her grin too persuasive. The company of fae rushing past you towards the centre of the palace did little to deter her from speaking so loudly about Torben, a high fae, and one of her oldest friends. Reyna being fae, too, had an invite to the Court of Spring by her existence alone. The same didn't apply to you.

"I'm only your plus one," you said quietly, brushing down the dress to distract yourself from her frown. Torben had visited your realm many times by Reyna's invite and after long, he seemed to be there more than not. Once, as Torben had left with a kiss to her crown and to your palm, Reyna's impish features scrunched in thought, her plan to play cupid sprung, and she had persisted since. Her latest attempt, trying to double date; her with any willing partner, and you, of all people, with him. "He must have felt bad, not inviting me."

"He invited you," Reyna said, but the hallway dimmed at the wide, open doors, and a crowd drowned her next words in awe.

Glittering lights like… like stars hung in the room, glowing and dazzling the fae dancing beneath the floating petals. Rich perfumes of wine and fruits teased you forwards, and you nearly lost yourself so soon, had a warm voice not grounded you.

Fae mimicked their courts of birth, and Torben looked every bit a fae of the Court of Spring. From the silver-painted smile marred by crimson wine, the cloak to his suit of vines and lilac blossoms, not forgetting his wings rising above him as they fluttered, catching the light like frosted glass in summer, he put the charmed gardens beyond to shame. In your realm, the flipping of your stomach had been easier to hide but now, entranced by his indigo nails and the shimmer of his rings, the attraction rose to tighten at your throat.

Reyna's elbow caught your ribs. They were watching you, Torben's hand outstretched. His smile rose as he said, likely for the second time, "dance with me."

Music soothed the tension quick to run down your back, but he was stepping closer. Torben bowed his head enough for the thick curls against his ochre ram horns to tickle his forehead.

"You have my word," he began slowly, rising his free arm to press to his heart. "Until you ask to be taken from the dance."

Torben rose when your fingers slid against his palm. Your pulse fluttered at his lips soft on your knuckles, but he was leading you at his side deeper into the throes of drunken fae before drawing your bodies flush. One hand on your neck. One on your low, bare back, a shiver drawing a gasp from the cool touch of rings. His thigh pressed tight between your own and he was nudging you back. Every gentle nudge accompanied a rich laugh only helping to unsteady you further, and a cycle of your dizzying returned when he stroked across your nape and guided you back once more.

Though you tried to look from the dancers, the way from the circle was charmed despite your immunity to glamour tonight. Reyna took great care in providing potions and fruits to ward it off, yet you couldn't see beyond. Already your body was warming and Torben slowed, face close and voice low.

“Trust in me now,” he implored. The music continued and so did you, drawn to lean tighter to his lithe frame by the gentleness of his hold. "Look only at me."

Worries flitted through your mind in a matter of seconds; had he brought you here on Reyna's arm for a game, where fae, royalty above all, were renowned for tricking away a mortal's sanity? Your feet hadn't begun to ache nor your lungs burn short of breath, and his word bound you together.

Torben's thumb traced along your jaw. He drew your face higher until only a hair's breadth was between you and whispered, "dance."

He spun you out into a laugh and when you curled back into his arms, his hands on your ribs and yours clutching his forearms beneath his soft cloak, the fears melted. His grin was one only a pure fae could bless a mortal with, one of power and delight as he gathered you tight and led you deeper into the circle.

Each turn was guided by his slender fingers, a ring pressing to your spine enough for you to lean back, his chest pressing tight to yours. Your heart beat in time with his, hard and fast. Torben's hot breaths fluttered into your neck, a soft brush of lips stealing your ability to draw yourself up. If not for his embrace, your heart along with your body would have given out.

"It's been almost five songs. Come."

Lost, so helplessly lost in the sheen to his bright eyes and the scent of petals where you rested near on chest, the lilt of his gentle voice barely broke the lure of the dance. "Five?"

Torben’s rising lips pressed to your knuckles. He hummed once before twirling you from his chest, though never out of reach. Fingers still tangled together, the high fae led you from the dancers and revellers until the music began to fade. Not for the first time since arriving, Torben held you close and whispered your name - whispered, in the same tenderness you would speak his true name, and waited for your weak nod when the sudden aches in the absence of glamour began to ebb.

“Thank you.”

The high fae tipped your chin higher with his fingertip. “You know better than to give me your thanks,” he said, but warmly, and he was close enough now you could feel the brush of his hair loose on your forehead. The way he drew in a soft breath sent your thoughts spiralling, until his gaze flitted up, beyond you. “Reyna will want to see you. You are beautiful,” he murmured, just as your fingertips began to fall away from his. “Do you like it?”

Warmth drained from your cheeks. Reyna had teased, her touch fluttering at the fabric, but she had never alluded to it being a gift. A gift from Torben. A gift you hadn’t been able to refuse. A gift from a high fae. He was gone before you had the chance to offer a gift in return, to break the debt, and you found yourself unsteady at Reyna’s side.

Her evening thus far had been spent flirting with a nymph, and after almost a torturous quarter hour intruding on them, the absence of warmth from the hall came to weigh in your stomach. The heat of their deliberate, provocative touches was reminiscent of the brush of rings along your hips, the fluttering lips down your soft ear. With Torben out of sight, the following realisation that you had been seeking him became the excuse you needed to justify leaving. As much as you wished for it to, Reyna smirked, and your weak scoff would do nothing to dissuade her from later teasing.

The halls beyond led in mazes. Wisps of music beckoned you into nearly turning back, soon to lose yourself in the revel. Had it not been the itch spurring you on to find an elusive high fae, it might have worked. Torben had tricked you through Reyna. The dress you had gasped at, fretted about wearing for fear of ruining it, had been a gift.

It wasn’t the first gift Torben had presented. Each had been sweet, fleeting moments - a rose plucked and tucked behind your ear while waiting for Reyna’s return, a compliment whispered in a hug, the flower circlet woven carefully into your hair tonight - but each a painful reminder of his deeper nature, a longing to ensnare you. Each had been carefully countered - your small smile in tucking a richer red rose back against his horn, a kiss to his cheek, a glittering blossom broach pinning his cloak together - and at that you had been equal, no debts and no danger.

The itch didn’t cease; it wasn’t only to settle a debt that sent you running after Torben.

Shadows were never just shadows in this realm but you hadn't thought to look beyond them. His melodic call tripped you back into the shadows, weak and regaining your breath as he rose from them.

"Would it be so bad?"

Shimmering jewels woven into his ochre hair caught your eye first, certain his thick horns had been unadorned before he left you. Decorated horns had meaning, an intent, but you could hardly focus long enough to recall it when his slender fingers stroked beneath your chin. Warm, but the cool touch of rings caressed your jaw.

"Would it?"

"Torben..." Reyna would laugh if she saw you so helpless before him now, just like she had always hoped for. You frowned at the thought and reached for his wrist. "Reyna put you up to this, didn't she?"

"No." Gone was the musical lilt, replaced by a sharp edge. Torben caught your hand before you could push him away, fingers entwined as your knuckles scraped the stone wall beside your head. Soft flutters of his delicate wings disarmed you as he ran his thumb higher, teasing your lips to part on a choked gasp. "This is my doing. My question," he prompted, though his eyes remained on your lips, how they flushed under his pressing touch.

On your move to ask for him to repeat it, Torben tsked. His touch rose just a little, enough for your head to tip back, to lean into the wall for support, breath hot and rushing from your lungs as his thumb ran firmer. Rings bit into your fingers when he pressed his hand harder to yours. The bait was there in his eyes, a dare and glowing. His pearly and feathered eyebrow arched. He wanted you to taunt him and goad him. You did nothing of the kind and eventually, Torben hummed, his palm running across to your cheek.

"Would it be so bad," he murmured, "to date me?"

His forearm became your anchor when you trembled. Torben brought himself closer. Though lean, he was taller than you, his deliberate rise and steady touch of his hand lifting your face to his. The embrace now was so different to the dance; he had held you gently there, where he now ensnared you, encompassing you entirely – in a way you couldn’t deny had your body humming for a closer touch. There came another flit of his wings and the same sparkling glow mirrored in his eyes.

"Tell me."

If you hadn't been prepared, the truth would have rushed from you. The allure of glamour tempted you nonetheless, but you felt cold. "How dare you."

Torben's lips curled. "I hoped you would answer regardless." In the breath of pause where you struggled to think, he said, "I'd not glamour you. If not for the certainty of your immunity tonight, I would not have done."

"Then you hoped to trick me?"

The fae recoiled and then, his hold slackened. Torben fell away, bar his hand on your face, stroking beneath your cheekbone in a touch barely there at all. "That's what you think of me? That this is all a cruel trick?" His hand finally rose to his glittering horns as they curled down to his nape. In his muttering, he began to pluck at the thin ribbons and rings. "This has been at my hand, not Reyna's. My apologies. Pardon me."

When he tore a band of thorns from his horn, you lurched forward. Torben continued to force away the ribbons until you snatched his wrists like he had yours. "Let me."

He stilled, then turned his darkened eyes on you. In the silence, slow and thickening, he began to laugh. It grew into a hoarse echo rumbling from his chest against yours. "What a cruel taunt. I understood your rejection just fine, thank you. Do not seek to twist the dagger deeper."

"It's for me?"

Torben scowled. "Is this some petty revenge? Stop it."

With a loose ribbon already snagged on his rings, you carefully unwound it. Torben scoffed but stayed when you curled his arm into your chest, thumbing the soft fabric of the ribbon, the same as the dress Reyna had sent for you; the dress he had gifted you.

His horns hadn't been decorated in the hall. This was a private matter between friends. He had never declared his intent before and- your heart ached, your eyes lifting to where he turned deliberately away from you. Until now, he had attempted to court you as a human would, through dates and gifts; gifts refused for the ulterior debt any other fae would ensnare you on, and dates thwarted because of your nerves.

"No."

His pointed ears flushed dark. "You mean to hurt me more?"

"To your question." His hand had curled into a fist but you held him closer, running your free hand up to his elbow to squeeze. "It wouldn't be bad to date you. I'd like to."

"Your pity is insulting-"

"Reyna's teasing always felt like teases, nothing more." Still unconvinced, his frown remained, his eyes heavy-lidded where he watched your thumb trace up to brush along his racing pulse. “For her to say I should a date a fae, one as... as lovely and kind as you, whose home is a different realm, it,” the flatness of your whisper fractured into a deep breath, one Torben noticed too well. His narrowed eyes softened, and his fingers tightened on yours. "It seemed like only teasing. The horns - I wasn't taunting, I promise."

Torben spoke carefully. "Promises hold a lot of weight."

"I promise."

"You promise?"

Your small heels did little, so you tucked the ribbon through his wreath of thorns laid against his hair. Torben bowed his head until you had it tight. Your fingers fell to smooth over the broach at his collarbones. "I promise."

Torben felt closer now than when he'd had you pinned. Like he would sweep you from your feet once more into a dance, his arm fell around your waist and traced down your lower back. "Did you not question the frequency of my returns? How each visit was in your presence?"

"I didn't want to hurt myself by believing it."

"Believe it."

"I do," you said. Torben's lips twitched. "I promise. Promise me something." He hummed quietly, but his focus was already waning. With you now in his arms, he could touch you, hold you and slowly, begin to court you as he had intended. His wings began to shimmer again. "Promise no glamour. No tricks."

"I promise."

Torben caught you and warmth brightened his eyes when you softened against him. "I'd rather it be us for our first date, though."

"I know somewhere we could be alone. Just us, now."

"Oh?"

Torben's wings fluttered and he pressed his lips low to your jaw, leaving a silver kiss, you were sure. He led you away from the party into his arms, away from Reyna, where she had known better than to wait for you to return.

This is the first exo fic I’ve finished and posted on my account!! I’m very excited to write more and share it. Let me know what you thought!

#exophilia #kim-monsterlings writing #fae boyfriend #fae x reader #monster romance #monster lover #reader insert #monster x human #fae x human #fae lover #fluff #mutual pining #male fae #exophilia fluff #torben the fae #terato

[rhaenyratargeryn]

A Series of Firsts, pt. I (Crow x f!guardian)

Rating: T

Summary: First confessions, first drink, first kiss. All in one.

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment her perspective shifted. It was one thing to say, when you awake as a guardian, whomever you were in your past life is gone, and another to put it into practice.

Especially when you knew the person that guardian had been in the very recent past.

Especially when you were the reason that person had died.

Of all the things Crow had learned (mostly against his will) about who he was before he awoke to the Light, that was one thing she was glad he had not discovered.

Which was a whole other mess for her mind and her heart to work out. It was hard enough at the start seeing the face of the man who she had hunted, had chased over the stars with hatred in her heart and revenge in her hands. Hands that had fired the Ace of Spades into Uldren Sov until he breathed no more.

Uldren had been proud. Haughty. A prince in his status and his manner.

And now this man who wore his face was hissing at having scorched his fingertips on the crackling campfire after adding a log. He sheepishly blew on them as Glint shook his small chassis with a chiding air.

“I told you to use a smaller log.”

“By all means, show me how it is done, Sparky.”

Glint couldn’t scowl, but the way his edges tightened and he groaned said well enough that he hated the endearment.

“That’s what I thought.” Crow said with a grin, catching her eye as she watched him. The expression softened, his voice lowering, “How’s it coming?”

Right. She was supposed to be mixing up the stew. Pulled from her thoughts, she returned to stirring, mixing packets of dried vegetable and meat rations into the stock that was, in truth, mostly water. It was a typical meal for guardians on the ground. And… well, despite Zavala having learned of Crow’s real identity, it was too risky still to have him walking around the tower.

He’d needed to “get out and stretch his wings” as he called it, and so here she was. Camped out in the EDZ with the Lightbringer formerly known as Uldren Sov. The man she had killed. And now the man she was stupidly, and irreversibly already half in love with.

There had been moments. Lots of moments. Too many moments.

First she’d thought the affection stemmed from the fact he looked up to her. Just another new Lightbearer with an awed respect for the Young Wolf, Hero of the Red War, the “Chosen One”… it wasn’t like she had set out to be any of those things. She had just done what needed to be done. She recalled she told him that once and he had chuckled with such… fondness. His voice pitching low then as it did now or whenever they were alone.

Like their conversations were a secret. His words for her ears alone.

She set the pot over the flame on it’s hanger, noting that despite Glint’s criticisms, the flame was high enough and hot enough to use.

“You seem distracted tonight.” Crow said, letting his hood fall back. Even in the dark his eyes glowed faintly, the color of a sunrise.

She told herself the shiver that ran up and down her arms was from the chill in the air.

“I’ve never been a talker.” She said and settled back down next to him. It was near enough that one of them only had to reach out to touch the other. It would be too obvious to move now, she thought with a silent curse, frowning to herself.

“Is that so?” Crow said, his voice so earnest that for a moment she didn’t realize he was teasing her until she looked up and saw the faint smile on his lips.

Her traitorous heart skipped. Where was her Ghost? For that matter, where was Glint? They had both been here a moment ago.

“I thought… well… I thought maybe you were regretting bringing me along. I can’t say that last shot at the Fallen was my best moment.”

She had nearly forgotten. It was a small skirmish, something she could have easily taken solo. A Captain had swiped in close, nearly taking her arm off with his sword. Crow’s shot had missed, but it had forced the Captain back, giving her enough time to dispatch the Fallen herself. She had been surprised, but hadn’t given it more thought than that.

But now, in the dim light, she could see the same expression on Crow’s face he had worn when he came down from his perch and helped her bandage the shallow wound. It hadn’t been embarrassment, or even quite disappointment… but something else. Something deeper.

“It still saved me a very uncomfortable rez.” She said and the Crow just nodded, his brow pinched slightly as he cast his eyes aside. She turned, tilting her head to try to get back into his line of sight.

“Hey, I mean it. I would have regretted not bringing you along. This is so much better than being off on my own.”

Surprise flashed over his features, a deeper shade of indigo spreading across his cheeks. She suddenly found herself wishing a Taken portal would open up and swallow her whole. She turned away before he could see the same flush spread over her own face.

“… I agree.” Crow said and she risked another look over at him. He was smiling.

“One nice thing about being out of Spider’s lair— well, one of the nice things— I get to see you more often.”

She didn’t know what to say. The silence between them was only broken by the faint chirping of insects, the crackle of the fire and the faint bubbling sound of their dinner. Crow was looking at his hands, fidgeting with his gloves and picking at the fabric.

“Anyway. I appreciate that you humor a kinderguardian like me.” Crow began, his voice tinged with forced humor to hide the deprecation, “Letting me tag along—“

“I like it too.” She said, the words coming out so fast it came out more as “liketoo” than a comprehensive sentence.

The Crow had stopped fidgeting. The insects and the fire were overloading her senses again.

“… I really respect you. As a guardian, as a comrade. And… And I like to think of you as a friend.” Crow continued, “…and I like to think of you.”

He stopped.

“You like to think of me as—?” She prompted, breath held in her lungs.

He smiled, “That’s all. I like to think of you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Crow’s confession had brought a permanent heat to his cheeks, his expression softening as if he were marveling that he managed to even get the words out. She was marveling them too. Or more like, feeling her thoughts collapse inward on themselves like a black hole.

“What... um. What does that mean?” She said, feeling dumb and fumbling and definitely not like someone with the title of “Godslayer”.

“I… “ he began, but whatever it was that had slipped forward was beginning to retreat once more, “…well, I… it’s… just a sentiment I suppose.”

It was now or never.

“I think about you too. Often. A lot. I think about you a lot. And… I know I’m this ‘role model’ and thought of as this untouchable big damn hero and everyone— no. Look. The point is, me too.”

To his credit, the Crow listened to her outburst with quiet attentiveness, even nodding once or twice in understanding.

“It just seems impossible.” He said at last, shrugging slightly, “I can’t imagine why someone like you—”

“Don’t look at the pedestal.” She said, her voice firm, “Just look at me. C’mon, you’ve seen how I eat. I talk in my sleep too, I know I do. I never clean my guns right and I’ve had half a dozen sparrow related rezes because I’m a shitty driver.”

That last one got a laugh.

“So let’s just focus on the win here, yeah? You like me.” She waited until the Crow picked up on the prompt and he nodded, confirming it, “And I like you. Now it’s out there.”

Crow let out a breath that turned into a nervous laugh, “It’s definitely out there.”

When it became apparent neither one of them knew how to go on, there was a soft sigh from somewhere nearby. Glint and her own Ghost glided out from the trees, coming to perch near their guardians.

“And what were you two doing?” Crow said, clearly relieved for a subject change.

“Oh, just— just patrolling.” Glint said hurriedly, earning what could be imagined was a wry look from her own Ghost. He turned that look on her then as if he were exasperated with her for something.

She had a funny feeling why the pair had left them alone.

—-

A day had become a week and then a week had easily fallen into the next. Devrim had even radioed in at one point to tell them to “leave some for the rest of us” after the fourth Fallen patrol they had decimated.

They worked well together, the awkwardness of the night before fading into routine. It surprised her how natural such a foreign concept like touch was to them. A bump on the shoulder with a closed fist, a silent congratulations for a good shot. The brush of their hands when they passed ammo or a water canteen. The touch of his arm, brushing against her own perhaps every thirteenth of a second when they walked too close together.

Even at the campfire they slowly had begun to draw nearer and nearer, their orbit closing in on the other. His, with an innocent like curiosity. Her own interest decidedly less innocent, but also still— cautious. She felt the pull of his light, new and bright. Her own had not shimmered so in a long time… he was naive, young and rash. He needed looking after, not another responsibility. The point driven even further home now by the way he teetered unsteadily even sitting.

Devrim had sent a patrol over to meet them with fresh supplies. One of them being a bottle of something he called “Gulchshine” which, judging by the smell, was maybe only one molecule away from pure ethanol. Crow hadn’t drank since he was revived. Which was the same as saying he’d never drank before at all.

“This is disgusting. I can’t stop drinking it.” Crow said, his voice not so much slurred as it was relaxed. Open and unguarded.

“What is that? Is that lemon? Or is it just my taste buds dying?”

“It… definitely seems like lemon.” She said, giving a tiny sip to the cup in her own hand. There was a citrus like bite beneath the taste of rubbing alcohol, but it was not near sweet or sour enough to mask the bitterness of the clear liquid.

“Like someone whispering the word ‘lemon’ from another room.” Crow murmured and took another sip, a shudder going over him as he swallowed. He brought the bottle to his lips again and with a chuckle, she leaned nearer and said in a soft voice,

“Lemon."

Crow nearly choked on his laugh. It was a nice sound, one she didn’t hear often enough from him.

“That exactly.” He said after he’d caught his breath, turning towards her with a grin. The smile faded at the realization of how close they were. His eyes half-closed and dreamy in their regard as he lifted a hand up to brush back a strand of hair from her face.

She could smell the alcohol on his warm breath, the moss of the greenery around them, the fresh air… could feel the warmth from the Earth beneath them and from his hand on her cheek. She reached out, holding him by the chin to keep him in place as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss, as faint as the sweet taste of citrus, on his lips.

She had not expected to do that. She equally did not expect him to curl his hand behind her head and pull her in, his mouth already open for another kiss which she happily provided. Crow groaned, an involuntary and needful sound.

Desperation. She could taste it in his kiss, in the way he tentatively returned the soft touch of her tongue, inexperienced but so eager to learn. To feel. He craved it in every gasp, every pull of his fingers through her hair. He wanted to be touched— with tenderness, with kindness. His body lit with it, his breathing fast and quick and his touch edging towards rough in its eagerness. Like he couldn’t get close enough. A wanting so strong and so foreign and yet familiar. She felt him struggle with it— with his body knowing vaguely what it wanted but his mind struggling to keep up.

So she guided him. Over and over. Kissing not just his lips but the highpoint of his cheek and the juncture where his jaw met his neck. She let her teeth rasp over his pulse, thready and rapid at his throat and relished in the way he shivered. She wasn’t sure when she had been settled into his lap, only that she enjoyed the way it made her just a fraction taller.

They were wearing too many clothes. She wanted to touch him, to run her hands over every expanse of his skin until he remembered her touch more than he remembered any bullet or beam or weapon that had ever struck him. The sudden movement of her hands to the hem of his shirt had an immediate sobering effect, his body going rigid beneath her.

“… too fast.” She said, nodding half at her self. She let her hands slide back up, resting her arms around his shoulders. Crow swallowed thickly and she repressed the urge to kiss his neck all over again.

“I’ve never— I mean, not that I remember…”

It made perfect sense. His uncertainty mixed with certainty. Moments of lucidness where he no doubt remembered past lovers, past kisses, and then for them to fade like starlight from his grasp. Despite the confession, the Crow didn’t look daunted, his hands still clutching to her waist.

“Do you want to stop?” She asked, shifting her weight back.

“I…“ Crow paused, his pupils blown wide, an eclipse on a sunset sky, “… I just want to touch you. Is… is that okay?”

“That’s okay.” She said, pressing a kiss to his jaw and relishing in the way he relaxed beneath her hands. His arms held her so tightly, their ribs pressed together hard enough for there to be a faint spark of pain. She didn’t care.

His fingers had found a spot beneath her collar, seeking out the soft skin at the nape of her neck. She turned her cheek against his, pressing and rubbing her lips against him more than actually kissing. Crow seemed dazed, a soft hum coming from his throat as she felt his eyelashes brush against her skin, his eyes closing.

“Is everyone this warm?” He asked, unthinking, “Sorry— weird question.”

“Probably has something to do with the Gulchshine.”

She pulled back, placing her hands on either side of his face and noting the warmth radiating from his skin.

“You’re flushed down your neck.” She said, observing the darker blue color that bloomed out over his skin.

“I’m not that drunk.”

She rose an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t drunk, just not that drunk.”

“So is this for me then?”

He didn’t answer, a sputter dying in his throat as he shook his head.

“I lied. I’m drunk.”

She laughed and kissed him again, just to be sure and he breathed into it like she was the very air he needed. An arm around her waist, his hand tangled in her hair, he followed her kiss by kiss, learning his own rhythm and occasionally trying something new. Discovering how he liked to kiss her. How he liked to be kissed back. It felt important. It felt special. These things only heightening the very intimacy of the act.

She’d never felt this way just from kissing someone before. Something she imagined they had in common.

“... if I knew it felt this good, I would have done it a long time ago.”

“You really are drunk.”

He made a questioning noise, his mouth too busy testing out the way she has kissed his neck on her own. He licked a long line up to her jaw. She had definitely not shown him that.

“People are more honest when they are drunk.” She clarified, her words veering towards breathless

“Glitch might have mentioned it.”

At the mention of the ghosts, both guardians froze, eyes drifting to where the two lights were perched, watchful but silent nearby.

They had forgotten they were there.

Oh god they had forgotten they were there.

“Don’t mind us.” Her own Ghost said, voice filled with dry amusement.

#destiny #destiny 2 #crow x guardian #crow x young wolf #the crow destiny #crow x f!guardian #fanfic #fanfiction #part two will be SPICY #hence why it will be moved to part two #so people can enjoy without spice

[emerald-amidst-gold]

WIP Wednesday

Is it just me or has this week been going kind of slow? It feels like Thursday, but no! It is WEDNESDAY! >:D That means it’s time to shaaaaaare! X3

So, I’m finally getting back into writing, but I’m doing bits and pieces at a time. I think I may have put too much pressure on myself, so everything I wrote and then read looked..bleh. 

However! Due to an ask that @the-dreadful-canine sent me, I found some inspiration! >:D

Thank you @noire-pandora for the tag! I send you all the hearts in the world! <3

Halamshiral brings out the best in the both the wolf and the dragon~ >:3

"She was friendly.", Fane said, face blank, arms crossed as he let his eyes follow after the elven servant that had just left where he and Solas were against the walls of the Winter Palace; the two of them keeping to the shadows and niches the soft darkness held.

He had sought out the Elvhen man, thankfully without much interference, to mention another spike in the air around them. There was magic somewhere in the palace, but he couldn't pinpoint its exact placement. Solas had agreed with his assessment after the first time, and the few times Fane had passed through this particular hall, the one lining the small courtyard, he had noticed his sky's brow furrowed slightly and his eyes glued ahead as if he were listening for something.

So far, neither of them had had any luck determining a focal point, but it had to be a rift; his mark proved that. It wasn't flaring violently, but the pulse was deeper than usual and his arm burned as the magic scorched through his veins. It was why, even after notifying the other about the fluctuation in the Veil, he had lingered.

Now, Fane wished he hadn't as his eyes continued to watch the retreating servant girl, her cheeks rosy and her eyes shining with something he knew all too well: infatuation. That would be fine on it's own, he wasn't one to judge or condone another's feelings as his very nature encouraged them to blossom, but the person that gaze was directed towards…

That was another story entirely. Why did he feel so...bitter? This prison of marble, gold, jewels, and stone was infuriating and confusing.

Solas chuckled, his eyes, too, following after the young woman, but they were still, clear, uninterested, but yet, Fane felt odd. "Indeed she was. Many of the servants have been. I believe they find my presence intriguing, and perhaps, comforting.”

"Makes sense. You have a certain air here. More relaxed, even if every shadow holds a knife. Confident, really. Makes you approachable.", Fane muttered out his observation absently, glancing down to be met with questioning orbs of blue-grey; the color was mixed due to the shadows dancing within and around them. They looked midnight in hue and they were trained on him now; no one else. “The responses to me have been the exact opposite. Not surprising, but annoying. I tried to question a pair of them outside this hallway, and they shooed me off.”

Solas gave him a small, but reassuring smile. “So I saw. Merely a precaution, I think, vhenan.”, he said, casting midnight orbs around once more, essences of lavender glinting from starlight. They landed upon a small group; three servants, each elven and they appeared to be wholly uninterested in ferrying about between the nobles. “Servants have long walked within the halls of power, unnoticed, but ever-watchful of those who see them only as inconsequential. Wariness is their greatest weapon against those who flaunt without reservation. The elves along these walls and in these dark corridors know what you represent, and so they keep you at arm’s length. ”

Fane hummed, pursing his lips a bit. "So, they’re fearful of me. Again, not an uncommon reaction.”, he said. albeit a bit bitterly. Typical. He should have known that was the case. Dressing a wolf in sheep’s clothing didn’t not make it a wolf, after all.

Except, he was a dragon. A dragon playing politics, playing with power. Fane was surprised he hadn't combusted as soon as his boots had touched the inner gate's threshold. The night was young, though. Sadly. Unfortunately. Miserably. How his sky, who was now leaning against the pedestal of a bust, appearing calm, collected, and enthused as eternal irises gazed up at him had done this almost day in and day out was baffling and honestly? Terrifying.

Solas shook his head. “No. Not of you as you are, my dragon.”, he denied simply, glittering jewels of deepest blue shifting like the sky just visible through the windows they stood beside. “They’re fearful of the power you possess. Elves have long been the victims of misused power. They wonder if you are the same as the Grand Duke, the Empress, the Duchess, or any here that have dealt a heavy hand without provocation.” A sigh and a warmer smile, midnight shifting to the paleness of moonlight. “However, I have seen gazes begin to linger among the groups each time you pass. They hold hope; a dream of opportunity. You are proving you are not the same, ma’isenatha. Unlike many, who believe themselves entitled. Continue to do as you’re doing, and a society will open up to you. Be patient, be mindful, and be true in a place rife with lies.”

Fane raised an eyebrow, keeping their gazes locked. “So, continue being a near ass to every atrociously dressed fop and priss that gets it in their head to waltz up to me?", he questioned before growling in the next moment. "The last prick I had the misfortune of walking within sight of nearly got a claw up the ass when they touched my arm.”

The mage smirked,  but it seemed...dark, eyes sharpening like metal at his last statement. “I would not call how you’ve been carrying yourself being a ‘near ass’, vhenan. It is far more nuanced than that.”

“Oh? How would you label my attitude then?”, Fane asked, keeping his eyebrow raised before a light of mischief and nostalgia flashed within blue, turning his curious expression into a blank slate. “What’s that look for?”

Something about the air was shifting due to this conversation. It wasn’t magic or anything, but it was...heightening, taking on a heady blend, power and emotion, present and past mixing with odd harmonies. Solas had mentioned something like that when they first arrived...

Solas hummed, eyes taking on a softer edge, primal darkness dispersing in both the curve of his mouth and the depths of his eyes. “It is nothing.”, he dismissed, the glint of nostalgia apparent upon every sharp line and curve of his sky’s face. Razor sharp eyes of blue steel shifted away casually once more, a single finger beginning to tap against where hands overlapped. “Suffice it to say, I am...pleased with this side of you as I am with every facet of personality you gift me with. The evening has been full of surprises, and hopefully, it will end on a high note."

Fane scoffed, leaning back a bit to rest against a windowsill; the marble was cool against the back of his legs and it helped soothe both his mind and the scars upon his legs. The material of his pants were better than most, but not what he was used to. “You’re just tempting the world to answer with that call, my sky.”, he said with a sidelong glance in Solas’ direction.

Solas responded with a sidelong glance of his own. “And what if I am?”, he retorted. There was something...cheeky about the elf’s tone and it wasn’t something Fane heard often, if at all. Yes, things were shifting, but not detrimentally so.

Fane kept his face blank, but he felt..light; a feeling of warmth in his chest apparent. “Then I would have to intervene on its behalf.”, he quipped, dropping his voice a few octaves and narrowing his eyes. These words falling from their mouths, mixing with shadow, candlelight, hushed whispers, and quiet refrains were interesting. They came with ease, they fell with grace…

...they sang with pride. That would usually terrify Fane, one of seven sins that could, but right now, with the sky gazing up at him from the side, body lax and garbed in black much like his own was, and expression titillating, ethereal, he was anything but frightened.

He was enthralled.

Solas hummed, eyes tempting with silent wishes. “My voice would harken a dragon to respond, would it?”, the mage pushed, or rather, pulled him in with that hushed question; the silk that Fane associated with his sky’s voice wrapping around his hearing like a gossamer sheet.

Fane shrugged a bit, bringing his arms up to cross them as he did so with his legs a bit; boots scuffing against pristine marble. He leaned back further against the ledge of the window now, but part of him wanted to inch away, ascend to the sky gazing up at him from hooded lids. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Remember,”, he began before pausing, a tight feeling of warmth ensnaring his chest as Solas’ eyes flashed with quiet indigo and so he pressed back with velvet. “...Fen’harel?”

*screeches* Why do I love these two being suave fools?! The brain worms are strong in this Chili’s tonight! 

Tagging (with no pressure, but all the court intrigue! >:3): 

@oxygenforthewicked @the-dreadful-canine @little-lightning-lavellan @varric-tethras-editor @dreadfutures @dungeons-and-dragon-age @blueheaded @drag-on-age @shift-shaping @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold and anyone else who’d like to share and revel in the court! *cackles* 

#wips wednesday #my writing #i'm very proud of this scene #it is equally steamy and silly :3 #i was debating whether to put down the steamy bits but i want to flesh those out a bit more >:3 #this all came from an ask because i blurbed and i was like 'I like this. LET'S FLESH IT OUT >:D' #*pats self on back* #dragon age #oc: fane lavellan #solas #solavellan #is that jealousy I see Solas~? #and what about you Fane~? #*cackles*

[maddiwrites]

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 22)

Pairing: JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Happy Sunday (: Only two more chapters left and I’m sad about it.

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter 21 Masterlist

My friends drag each other to Heyward's shed where he stores all his useless junk he'll probably never touch again. I always said Pope's dad was a borderline hoarder. But the clutter does nothing to distract me from what's happening to my brother.

I pace back and forth with my hands interlocked on the top of my head. As I move back and forth, my friends keep their eyes trained on me as if I might sprint back to the airstrip.

No one says anything. The four of us are try to defuse the ticking time bomb thats about to blow in all of our heads without actually losing our minds.

I freeze when I hear the familiar hum of a plane fly overhead. I feel my throat tighten and my face heat with frustration. And just like that, Ward Cameron wins again.

"There goes the gold," Pope says and throws his hat across the room.

"Shit!" JJ kicks the closest thing to him which happens to be a three legged wooden table.

"Fuck!" Pope picks up a metal trash bin and throws it across the room, just like his hat.

"Pope!" Kie yells.

"God damn it!" He continues to throw anything he can find. His bomb exploded and he's destroying anything in his path. "Shit! Fuck!" He finds a wooden baseball bat in the heap of the clutter and hits whatever he can find. Glass tables, wooden chairs, more trash bins. I'm almost mesmerized by his movements because I have never seen this side of Pope before. "Shit! Damn it!"

"Pope!" Kie's trying to clam him down while JJ and I just watch with open mouths and raised brows. However, Pope just ignores her and continues to yell and break shit. "Pope!" I can imagine the release Pope must be feeling from this. All my life, I've never seen him act like this. He's usually so composed, always the one to keep us from doing shit like this. I don't know how to react now that roles are reversed. "Pope!"

Pope eventually falls with exhaustion against the arm of a musty green couch and pants to catch his breath.

"Yeah, dude," JJ says slowly. He puts his hand on Pope's shoulder and squeezes. "I was wondering when this was gonna happen. Here you go, chief." JJ holds out his dab pen for Pope to take. Pope looks at it and for the first time, he actually considers it. "A little weed never hurt no one."

"JJ," Kie says, disapproving.

"Relax, Kie."

"You know he doesn't smoke."

Pope ignores both of them and takes the pen from JJ and inhales a large hit. As if this kid couldn't shock me more today.

"Well, maybe not until today."

"Pope."

"Yeah, what is that gonna help?" Pope says. "I lost my scholarship. Walked out in the middle of the interview. Every -" Pope inhales sharply and shakes his head. "It's gone. It's not gonna happen."

"You did that for us?" Kie asks.

"No, not for us. For nothing."

I never thought of silence as being physically heavy, but right now, I feel like I'm being weighed down by a thick fog that I can't swim out of. Pope's right. Despite everything we did right this summer to get something we all deserve, we ended up with nothing except for more problems.

"I'm here for you, Pope," JJ says. "Welcome to my world, okay?"

Kie looks at me for some kind of assistance, but I have nothing to offer. She sighs and looks back at the boys. "JJ -"

"What, Kie? He's right. It doesn't matter anymore."

"You don't have to do that," Kie tells Pope and motions to the weed.

"What do you care?" Pope snaps.

Before this can get any worse, I turn at the sound of footsteps approaching us. My jaw physically hits the ground, at least that's what it feels like, when I see John B.

His eyes are facing forward and his clothes are covered in blood. He looks like he's in some kind of state of shock and I am terrified to find out why.

But my sisterly instincts kick in first. I'm running to him before the others even see him and my hands are pulling his shirt up to make sure the blood isn't his. John B reacts as if I'm not even there and stares ahead.

"John B what happened?" My voice shakes as my eyes scan his body. There's not a even a scratch on him, but I almost wish there was. Because this means the blood belongs to someone else, and I don't want to think that my brother is the reason for it.

"Dude! Dude, you good?" JJ runs up behind me and looks over John B's body with big eyes.

"Oh, my God! John B!"

"Is this yours?"

"Whose blood is that?"

I cup John B's face in my hands and make him look at me. When his eyes finally find mine, I ask, "What happened?"

Before he can answer, cop cars with their sirens on pass us on the road behind us. John B grabs me by the arm and shoves us all back into the shed and we duck behind a wooden slack.

"Shit," Pope curses as his chest moves up and down heavily.

When the coast is clear, John B tells us what happened. Sheriff Peterkin showed up. At first Ward thought she was going to arrest John B for breaking into the airstrip and almost causing a catastrophic accident, but she was there to arrest Ward. Of course Ward wasn't going to go down without a fight and before Peterkin could react, she was shot in the chest. By none other than Rafe Cameron.

"Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin?" I ask in disbelief.

I always thought Rafe was a lot of things, but I never had cop killer written down on my list. However, I do know that Rafe is the kind of kid who would do absolutely anything to impress his dad. He's been fighting for his attention since he was a tween. Maybe in his own sick way, he thought killing Peterkin was saving his dad.

John B nods. He tells us Peterkin told him to run. And as much as he didn't want to, he was better off with us than dead. Sarah even told him to go as she protected him with her own body while he ran away. Rafe tried to shoot him too but couldn't get his aim down as he sprinted through the woods to get to us.

"What?" I feel my blood turn ice cold when I think about Rafe trying to kill my brother. The one family member I have left. "Why would Rafe want to kill you too?"

John B shrugs. "Because I saw the whole thing."

"So did his sister," I say. "Do you think Sarah is okay?"

"Rafe wouldn't hurt her."

I scoff. "Yeah right."

Now I know that Rafe is pretty much capable of anything worthy to an eternity in hell.  I don't think anyone is safe in his company. Not even Sarah. Maybe Ward.

"Kie, can you give me a ride somewhere?" John B asks.

We sneak through the back roads to get to Kie's house. When we get in her car, John B directs her to the police station. By the time we get there, the sun is completely set, blanketing the town in an eery indigo color.

Everything seems so silent to me now. The hum of Kie's radio, the shuffling of leaves brushing against each other, the bickering between my friends and brother. There's a ringing in my ear that won't go away until my hands are wrapped around Rafe's neck.

I feel like my brain as been replaced by a dark cloud. No ideas, no thoughts, no plans can make me feel any better or lighter. It's like an invisible hand has reached down my throat and twisted my heart right out of my chest.

Peterkin was the one and only person that actually helped John B and I. She kept DCS off our backs for as long as she could, she never rubbed it mine or John B's face that the whole island thought we were delusional when we said our dad was coming back, and she was even going to arrest Ward Cameron for my father's murder.

She didn't deserve to die. Although I wasn't the one who pulled the trigger, I can't help but think that her death is somehow my fault. It was my family she was protecting. She was doing her job, but she could have easily written my dad's death off as an accident like every other cop on this island.

"John B, what are we doing at the police station?" JJ asks when Kie parks the car right outside of the front entrance.

"Somebody's gotta tell them what happened." John B's voice is filled with sadness and guilt. I wish I could pull all this weight off his shoulders and add it to mine. He use to be so optimistic - always the one to cheer me up. Now that it's the other way around, I'm dumbfounded on what to do.

Pope takes another hit of JJ's juul and ends up coughing most of the hit up.

"Oh," JJ says from his seat behind Pope and pats his shoulder twice. "Easy there, chief. Damn."

I ignore the fact that Pope sounds like he's hacking up a lung and turn to look at my brother.

"Are you sure?" I ask him.

"All right. I'm just gonna be real with you right now," JJ says to my brother. "You might end up in the lion's den, but you don't go there on purpose. It's fundamental. Just like my old man always told me, you should never ever trust cops, no matter what the circumstance is."

I scoff at the idea of taking advice from JJ's dad.

"Your old man's an abusive liar," Kie says, looking through the rearview mirror with a scowl on her face.

"I agree with JJ," Pope says. "Fuck the police."

Kie turns to look at him. "You going dark side now?"

"When's the last time the police helped us?" Pope says.

"Peterkin looked out for me, all right?" John B says loud enough to grab everyone's attention. "Tried to, at least." He looks at me. "They need to know."

John B steps out of the car with his head hanging low on his shoulders. I bite down on my bottom lip, contemplating what our next move should be. All I know is that I can't let him do this by himself.

"Wait, John B!" I jump out of the car and follow him to the front door. "You're not going to do this alone."

I wait for John B to argue with me but he doesn't. Instead, he nods his head and leads me into the police station, a place I've been in a couple times by force. Never by choice.

There's a woman at the front desk who looks exhausted and busy. I can hear the mumbling of her radio on her desk and the static after each statement. I'm pretty sure I hear Peterkin's name but I don't know if it's my own head repeating her name over and over again.

"Um...excuse me, ma'am," John B says.

The woman barely looks up from her desk and writes something down on her pad of paper in front of her. "This is not a good time, kid." Had she just taken the time to look up, she would see the guy standing in front of her is covered in blood. Maybe then, she would be more worried. Instead, she focuses on her radio. "Adam, advise if you need air tran."

I open my mouth to give this woman a piece of my mind, but John B cuts me off. His voice soft and broken. "I know who shot the Sheriff."

I force myself to look up at him. He looks like he's trying his best to keep himself composed when all I know he wants to do is collapse on the nearest chair and just...breathe.

The woman freezes and finally takes in John B's appearance. She studies the stain on his shirt and the sweat on his skin, the hollowness behind his eyes and his shaky hands.

"You stay put," She says as she backs away. "I'll get a deputy."

I look around the station and feel an uneasy swirling motion in my stomach. It's unsettling. Like JJ's words are getting in my head. Maybe coming to the cops wasn't such a good idea.

My head snaps towards the radio when it statics to life again. "Central, three Vick. We have a suspect in our 31. John Routledge."

My blood runs cold and my eyes flash up to meet John B's. He's staring down at the radio like it's an actual person and he's frozen in shock.

Another woman's voice comes up on the radio. "Copy that. All units, be on the lookout for John B Routledge."

"Sixteen year old white male. Six foot. Last seen wearing board shorts, a 'Bad Brains' T shirt, and a faded red hoodie."

"Copy that."

My hands grab John B's to drag him out of here. My head scrambles to come up with our best plan, but I know staying here isn't it. Ward somehow managed to spin this around on my brother. I shouldn't be shocked, but I keep managing to be knocked out with more surprises right when I think things couldn't get any worse.

Just as I'm about to pull John B out of there, two cops come out from the back and stare at the two of us with big eyes. A man and woman dressed in their faded brown deputy uniforms. My eyes trail down to their hands that are both steady on the gun in their holster, ready to aim if they need to.

"Just...breathe. All right?" The woman cops holds out her hand as if to tell John B to stay calm.

The other officer nods. "John B. Do what she says."

"Look, I didn't...I didn't do it, okay?" John B tries to explain but his voice his shaky and lacks any sort of confidence.

"Dont...move."

"Go..." My voice is barely a hushed whisper but my tug on his arm is strong. "Go, go, go. Run!"

John B and I sprint out of the station before any officers can guard the door. I can barely hear them yelling after us through the drumming in my ears.

"Kie! Start the car!" John B yells as we basically body slam ourselves into her car. "Start the car, Kie!"

I basically rip the back door open and stumble into JJ's lap after tripping on my own feet. Everyone's yelling. The people in the car. The people running out of the police station.

"What? John B!" Kie yells as her hands shake. She tries putting the keys back into the ignition but her hands are trembling too much.

"The cops!"

"Shit!" JJ curses and looks over my shoulder at the cops who are sprinting towards us.

"Go!" John B yells at her. She turns the key but of course the car decides not to start. "Kie, drive! Go!"

"Go Kie!" Now I'm yelling at her.

"Stop the car!" One of the cops yell with her gun raised at the back window.

"I'm going! I'm sorry!" Kie says as anxiety cripples through her.

"Right now!" The woman cop from inside approaches the car. She tries to open it but the door is locked.

"What did you do?" Kie yells at us.

Kie moves the vehicle slowly out of the parking lot, but the woman is relentless. She runs with us side by side and hooks her fingers around the door handle.

"Open it!" JJ yells at John B.

John B opens the door to knock the cop off the car. The tactic works and she rolls on the ground. Only now we'll probably be written up for assault too.

I fall back into my seat and pant for breath. My head falls back against the cushioned seat and my eyes close. Okay, okay, think, Marleigh. Think.

Ward killed my dad. Ward stole my gold. Rafe killed Peterkin. And somehow, my brother is the one being framed for murder. Make it all make sense.

I hate them. The Camerons. Kooks. All entitled, greedy sons of bitches who don't know how to handle rejection or the word 'no.' They think all their meals should be served on a silver platter and kids like us are born for the sole purpose to serve them. They deserve to rot. They deserve to feel all the pain we do.

And yet, they don't. And they never will because that's the life we live. A life where people like Ward and Rafe Cameron can get a way with murder because no one would blink twice at their lame excuse of a story.

A lie.

It all boils down to money. Money we almost had right in our pockets. But now it's gone as is pretty much everything else in my life. My house. My dad. Maybe now my brother.

JJ laces his fingers with mine and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I keep my eyes closed but let my head fall on his shoulder. I focus on his touch. How his thumb delicately rubs against my skin in a light up and down motion. How his lips are able to make my heart flutter when they kiss the top of my head. How his soft whispers, telling me everything is going to be okay, are sweet enough to make me melt into a buttery mess.

Maybe not everything's gone. I still have JJ. The constant in my life. The one who can always make me feel better even in the shittiest of situations. My sun on my darkest nights. My sight into the future when I can't even think of tomorrow.

I don't let JJ go. Even when Kie parks the car back at Heyward's shed under an open roof. We have literally nowhere else to go. The cops will undoubtedly check all of our homes, including Kie's. The Chateau is definitely surrounded by cops, waiting for John B and I to make the dumb move of going back there. And Tannyhill isn't an option anymore.

The sun is already poking out behind the trees as morning approaches. My body aches from sleeping in this cramped car, but I try to ignore the pain and focus on the fact that we're all still together. For now.

The five of us sit in silence. Some of us try to wrap our heads around what just happened and try to come up with another plan. The rest of us, like me, are so tired, they can't even remember what their middle name is.

The only noise in the car comes from Kie's radio. "...should be functional within twenty four hours." Meanwhile, another cop car with loud sirens pass us on the road without sparing this car a second glance. "And still, no arrest in the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from -"

Kie switches the radio off and glances back at John B and I. My brother has his seat reclined all the way back and is staring up the at the ceiling of the car. JJ has moved so his back is against the car door with one leg bent at the back of the seat and the other one on the floor. I sit between his legs and play with the necklace he gave me a couple days ago. Crazy enough, it feels like years since he gifted me this.

"Let's game this out," JJ is the first to speak. He looks at Kie and Pope in the front seat. "Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but..." He sighs. "...who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us? So the accuser is a big shot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused...is John B, who is...pretty much a homeless sixteen year old boy at the moment."

"Thanks." John B deadpans.

"Okay, man. Yucatan, all right? I'm saying that's the only option." John B gives him a look to stop talking but of course JJ doesn't take the hint. "What other options do you have?"

"Enough with the Mexico bullshit," Kie says.

"Sarah will bail me out," John B says a lot more confidently than I feel about the situation.

"She did witness the whole thing," Kie says.

"Thank you."

"You really think she's going to pick you over her own family?" I can't help the attitude that drips off my tongue with each word. Sarah's a nice girl and I really liked her. But Rafe and Ward are her family. "No offense, but you've really only known each other for a few weeks."

"Not happening, bro. Okay?" JJ says, agreeing with me. "We gotta get you off the island."

"The ferry," Pope speaks up for the first time all morning. "It's the only way."

"Exit stage left while you still can. Before the entire island is on lockdown."

"Guys, just get down," Kie slumps further into her seat as another round of sirens pass us.

"Sarah's not a Pogue, John B," Pope says. He has a point. Sarah hasn't been friends with all of us for that long. I almost wouldn't even blame her if she took her family's side.

"Yeah. You can't stay here, man," JJ says, tightening his hold on me.

Another moment of silence passes through us and I wonder if JJ's right. Adrenaline on the island is at an all time high. No cop, no lawyer, no person is going to believe John B over Ward. Not without evidence. We need time to clear John B's name. So maybe getting him off the island would be best. Even if it's just temporary.

~ ~ ~

When Kie parks in front of the ferry, Pope hops out to buy the tickets and Kie moves to the passenger seat. I offered to go with him but JJ told me that was a bad idea because I would get recognized as John B's sister.

So here I am, useless and laying down as flat as I can next to John B to avoid being seen through the windows.

I look at John B. His eyes are closed and his chest moves heavily up and down. His fingers flex and clench into fists every couple of seconds. I wonder if his fractured hand is starting to hurt him.

"The first thing we're doing when we get off this stupid island is buying you a new outfit," I say. I cringe in disgust when I look at Peterkin's blood stain on his clothes. Another reminder that she's dead.

I look up to the front seat window when Pope comes back to the car. He's mumbling to himself and I think he has something in his hand.

"Okay. All right, no."

"Pope, can you act normal?" Kie says through clenched teeth and unlocks the door for Pope to get in.

"Okay, um...okay, so, bad news. The ferry's closed, and there is this."

Kie takes a piece of paper from his hand and looks at it. Her eyes close for half a second and she shakes her head. "Shit."

"What is that? What is this?" John B asks.

JJ snags the paper out of Kie's hand and looks at it. "Well, John B, uh...this is a good framer of you." He turns the paper over and shows my brother and I a picture of John B on a 'WANTED' sign with a cash reward of $25,000.

"Okay, so the whole island's looking for John B right now," Pope says.

"That's a lot of money," I can't help but laugh. "Gotta say, John B. Didn't think you would be worth that much. Hell, maybe I'll turn you in."

"Congratulations John B, you're famous," JJ says.

John B slaps the outside of my thigh with the back of his hand. I scoff and slap him back, which causes a strings of slaps and hits, though mostly playful, and some a little harder.

"Stop. Guys, stop!" Kie says loudly. JJ pulls my hands away from my brother and folds them in my lap. He gives me a warning look, like a teacher would their student, and it makes me want to laugh about how bizarre this whole thing is. "We got to get to the HMS. We need small, no running lights -"

"It's at the Chateau, Kie," John B says.

"And I wonder if the cops got the entire place taken out," JJ says sarcastically. "Let me think. Oh, yeah. No. they definitely have that place locked down."

"Let me think. Just give me a second," John B says frustratingly.

"JJ," Pope says.

"What?" He looks up.

"Does your dad still have the boat? The cigarette boat, the Phantom. The one he used to race."

I look up at JJ, but I can't read his emotions. He keeps his face unfazed. "Maybe."

"You could get right up the coast, no problem. Okay, look - "

"It won't be easy, Pope."

"The surf's running from three to four."

"I don't know where the keys are."

"Well, find them."

"I'm thinking," JJ snaps.

"Why is nobody moving forward?" Pope yells at the car in front of us and bangs the palm of his hand on the steering wheel.

I rub my fingers in a circular motion on my temples and close my eyes again. Words are being spat at about a million miles per hour. It's hard to keep up and my blood vessels twist with anxiety.

"Can you relax?" Kie hisses. "JJ, how much weed did you give him?"

"Guys," John B says. "Your car's on the poster."

Pope ignores everyone and hits his fist against the horn of the car. "Can we move it?"

"Pope!"

I'm going to puke.

"Come on!"

"Don't honk the horn!" Kie says, hitting Pope's arms away from the wheel.

"It's that guy. Right there!" I hear a voice outside our window say. The voice sounds young. Kid-like.

"Shit," John B tries pushing himself further into his seat. I didn't even realize he sat up in the first place.

"We got a snitch. Pope, turn the car on," JJ says, sitting up in his seat and leaning forward to hit Pope on the shoulder.

"We get $25,000 if we find him!" The kid says.

"Hey! He's right there!" Another voice. Manly. Great, we're drawing a crowd.

"Hey! We gotta go!" Kie yells.

"Pope, go!" I yell.

"Turn the car on!" JJ yells.

We're all yelling and I think my eardrums might burst.

"I found him first!" The kid says to the man.

"Hell you did, you little bastard!"

"Pope, turn the frickin' car on!" JJ yells.

The crowd starts growing around the car. John B turns into my side and pulls his hood up over his head.

"I am trying!" Pope yells back at us.

"Turn the car on!"

"Go, go, go!"

Pope jerks the car forward and hits the car in front of us. I jolt forward in the middle seat and stop myself from going through the windshield by pressing my two arms on the front two seats.

I hear the crowd gasp and move backwards to avoid the nutso in the front seat. Now that I think about it, who let Pope drive in the first place?

"Pope! Jeez!" JJ curses.

"Dude, back up!" Kie yells.

Pope puts the car in reverse and steps on the gas, but hits another car in the process.

"Hey!"

"The other way!"

JJ pats Pope's shoulder again. "It's okay! Pope, just go!"

Pope hits the corner of Kie's front bumper against the car in front of us again but continues to step on the gas until we're completely out of our spot.

"What are you doing?" Kie yells at him.

"We'll bump out!"

"Watch out!" I yell when I spot a couple of people crossing the street before Pope can kill them.

"Whoa! Whoa! Watch out!" Pope yells and swings his hands in front of him to motion for the people to jump out of the way. "Watch out!" My back hits the back of my seat, hard. Pope has the audacity to laugh. Head back and all. "Oh my god."

"Pope!" Kie yells. "What the fuck?"

"I'm living my best life right now," Pope says through laughter.

Kie slumps in her seat. "My mom's gonna kill me."

"I should be the last to say this, but you are not okay to drive," JJ says. I turn to glare at him and he puts his hands up in the air to surrender. He looks back out to the road and yells, "Stop!"

Pope stomps on the brakes and sends us skidding to a stop. JJ's arm whips out to the right to stop me from flying forward.

We're gonna die.

Pope looks over his shoulder at my brother. "John B, get out."

"What?" I glare.

"He's right," JJ says and my head snaps to him. He ignores me. "We'll draw the cops, you run."

"Shit," John B curses and unbuckles himself.

"I'll get the rig, and I'll meet you in the dump tomorrow, okay? Three o'clock, okay?"

"Wait, I'm coming with you," I say, but John B shakes his head.

"No. You stay here. Stay with them."

"I'm not leaving you!" I fight back and look at him like he has two heads. He must think I'm crazy if he thinks I'm going to let him run away by himself.

"JJ -" John B looks at him.

"On it. Go!" JJ's hands wrap around my waist, forcing me to stay in the car. I try prying his fingers off of me, but he's a lot stronger than I am. John B starts running off. "Three tomorrow at the dump!" When John B disappears behind the tree, JJ finally lets me go. I turn around and shove him back by his chest and slide over to the seat that John B was just in. JJ sighs and looks forward again. "Come on, go, go, go!"

Pope steps on the gas again and veers forward.

I look out the window and ignore the queasiness that has fully taken over my stomach. I know John B and JJ were right to keep me in the car. I would only slow John B down and get myself in trouble and therefore, be completely useless in helping my brother. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm abandoning him.

~ ~ ~

Pope, for some reason, is still driving. I don't know where he's going but it seems like we're on our way to Figure Eight. Pope turns on the radio, blasting one of North Carolina's hip hop stations.

JJ leans forward in the middle seat and pushes his head between Kie and Pope. He's managing to laugh like we're on some joy ride on Memorial Day weekend. "Pope, you clocked that car, man. Like that was so bad!" JJ shakes his head. "I'm just glad I'm not driving now."

" Pull over." Kie tells Pope. "JJ, it's not funny. He shouldn't be driving."

JJ grimaces. "Mama's mad."

Pope pulls the car over and switches seats with Kie. A delirious grin stays on the high boy's lips as he settles in the passenger seat.

"What are you -"

"Where are we going?" I ask Kie as she makes a familiar right turn.

"The last place they're gonna look." Kie says.

~ ~ ~

By the time Kie pulls up to Tannyhill, the sun has disappeared into the horizon and the pit of my stomach is the size of a category five hurricane. I can't remember the last time I ate or drank anything and the pounding in my head feels like a hundred bullets are penetrating my skull.

Kie's brilliant idea is to somehow get to Sarah and convince her to go to the police to confess what actually happened.

"Perfectly focused," Pope says to himself, which makes me glare at him. Pope is anything but focused.

"You sure this is a good idea?" JJ says.

"She's the only one who can clear John B," Kie says.

"Last place they'll look because of how stupid it is."

Kie ignores JJ and gets out of the car with Pope following right behind her. When I open the door, JJ pulls me back and closes the door again.

I look at him. My first reaction is to be concerned. Something in JJ's expression makes me fold. For a second I forget the mess we're in and I get lost in his blue eyes. It's just me and JJ and the world outside of this car no longer exists.

His warm hand wraps around my smaller one and he pulls me closer into him. His other hand cups my face, right underneath my jaw. My face feels like it's physically sparkling with the touch of his breath and forget butterflies - there is a zoo in the pit of my stomach. I glide into JJ like magnet.

His lips press into mine and I cave in. I pull him close enough to where I'm straddling him. Time stops as does my breathing. My fingers run through his blonde hair, tugging on the ends. He stifles back a moan and my face flushes pink.

I pull back for breath and rest my forehead against his. I don't know how many more times we're going to get to do that. And it hurts me thinking it might come to an end.

"I'm sorry," I say.

JJ ignores me. "When we get to Yucatan, we're getting a bungalow. We're going to live in bathing suits and get drunk off of pina coladas every day. Skinny dipping is going to be our main source of exercise - well, other than the hot dangerous sex we're gonna have every night. I'm never going to leave your side and I'm going to keep you safe until the day we die. In a few years, we'll get married. You're gonna wear that dress you wore to Midsummers and we're gonna have beautiful beach babies who will go on to win surfing championships by the time they're ten because they're going to be prodigies. Our prodigies. And John B is going to be there with us. Because he's not going to jail for a crime he didn't commit. Okay?"

I don't even realize tears are streaming down my face until he's wiping his thumb against my wet cheek.

"Promise?" My voice cracks and I really wish it didn't. But that's the life I want. That's the life I need. I don't care if it's in Yucatan or in the middle of a deserted island. I just need my boys, Kie, and Pope.

JJ kisses my left cheek. Then my right and my nose. "I promise."

"I love you, J."

"And I love you. Everything is going to be okay. I'm going to make sure you're okay."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

JJ laughs. "Okay."

As much as I don't want to leave him, as much as I'd rather stay here with JJ and forget about all our problems, I know I can't. Because Kie is probably freaking out, waiting for me. Because John B is on the run somewhere and I need to do something, anything to help him.

"I should probably..."

JJ rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah I know. Be quick. Okay?"

I nod and jump out of the car before my head or my heart can make me do otherwise. I push my legs, that feel like rubber, over the stone wall that lines the Cameron's property.

I stop in my tracks when I hear Pope and Kie in some kind of intense conversation...well as intense as Pope can handle right now. I think he's still super high.

"Pope! Pope! Pope! Sh!" Kie says in a hushed tone.

"Hey, I'm trying to tell you, I love you."

Oh shit. I look at the stone wall I just jumped over and consider jumping back over it to avoid eavesdropping on this conversation.

"First of all, I need you to be quiet," Kie says.

"Okay, yeah. Quiet, I mean -"

"No. Stop talking, like, now." Kie says. This time, Pope doesn't speak. "Second of all...thank you for saying that."

I can't help but physically cringe at that statement. Because I know what's coming next.

"Okay," Pope chuckles.

"Now, that's very sweet, but it's - look it's not gonna happen."

"Okay, well, why not?"

This is like a car wreck you can't look away from. I had a feeling Pope was in love with Kie for years now. But he never acted on it. Didn't even flirt with her the way JJ did before we were together. A part of me always hoped he did. Because I wanted to see how Kie would react. I think the two of them would be really cute together. Kie could teach Pope to take more risks and Pope could give her a beautiful life that didn't require her working for her parents forever. They compliment each other. Always have.

"Because Pogues can't mack on other Pogues."

Pope scoffs. "That rule doesn't make sense, and nobody follows it. I mean look at JJ and Marleigh -"

"Look, I - I want something different."

"Okay, I-"

"I - I wanna go to Antartica, and I wanna ride camels..."

"I want to do those things with you."

"No. Pope, it's not gonna work."

"I want to be that person!"

"No. It's not gonna happen," Kie shakes her head. God, this is brutal. I can't wait to tell JJ. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Like..." Kie sighs. "Look, I know that that's really hard to hear right now, but we don't have time for this, and this is a really bad place to do it." She pauses and Pope doesn't respond. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." He says, but his voice has completely changed. It's dark and cold and doesn't match my Pope's personality.

"Are you ready for the plan, or..."

"Yeah."

"Okay..." Kie says and this is when I decide to make my entrance. I can't help with the situation at hand but at least I can cause a distraction.

So I cough. "Sorry for the hold up. JJ and I were just fighting over who has to be look out. So..." I force myself to look between Pope and Kie as if I didn't just witness their whole conversation. I try not to focus on the tear streak down Pope's cheek and look at Kie. "Ready?"

Kie nods and leads us towards the Cameron's. A house I almost called my home.

Kie is in charge of getting to Sarah Cameron by her bedroom window while I stay with Pope and create a distraction. We decided it was best if one of us stayed with Pope so I offered myself, considering what I just watched.

Pope still seems to be upset. He's not exactly being quiet trying to stay hidden like we should be.

"Gotta stick to the plan," Pope mumbles to himself and plays with the grill. I find the closest pillow on their patio set and place it on top of it. "I like camels. I like Antartica."

"Pope..." I say softly. The last thing I want is to piss him off more but he's making me nervous.

He ignores me. "What's wrong with that plan?" He bends down and picks up a rubber duck in a paramedic costume and looks at it thoughtfully. "Same." I don't know exactly what that means but he throws the duck into the grill and finds the lighter fluid. When he saturates the pillow...and duck, he turns the grill on. The fluid quickly ignites and flames shoot out from the grill. Pope's head is close enough to the fire that his hat catches on fire. "Shit!"

"Holy shit," I throw my arm at his head and knock the hat off of him. I stomp on it until the flame dies under my sneakers and pull him behind the closest tree that can hide us both.

Less than a minute later, I hear two pairs of footsteps come out. I recognize Ward's voice as he curses at the destructed grill until he stops and mutters the name "Sarah" under his breath and makes a beeline back in side.

Taglist: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @moniamaybank @realistic-breadstick @urbinoutfiters @jeeperky @brebear121 @x-lulu @freddymaybank @jjpouggues @lemur46 @is-it-really-a-secret @kkmikayla @folkloverr @alexa-playafricabytoto @jjxrudy @migilini @stellarskys @rochyu @itsagurl @dazzlingnights 

#jj maybank fic #outer banks rewrite #jj x oc

[fukurodaze]

five stars: part 4 | four days

IT’S EMBARRASSING: a third year cheerleader!reader x second year athlete!suna au

wc + genre: 4.7k, fluff + drama <3 warnings: cursing, burnout

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more. more. more.

faster blocks. louder voices. stronger spikes.

the interhigh is in four days.

the cheerleaders have begun rehearsing along to the players, shouting rhythmically to every point taken from each side of the practice court. the room is intense, filled with sweat and ambition to rise to the top - whoever jumps higher, hits harder, wins.

suna rintarou is no exception.

“nice, sunarin!” a voice sounds.

out of all the days in which he plays, they tell him today’s the best. on point, just in time, lightning speed, they say. he’s pleased with his own performance, momentarily, before he’s off to ask one of the second years if they’re down for another round of practice. when atsumu says yes, he’s up on the balls of his feet, ready to jump some more times.

aside, there’s a voice that calls your name. kouno yuki, the captain of the team, stands by your duffle bag, waiting for you. 

“earth to y/n?” she shakes your arm when she comes closer, finding that you’ve fallen asleep against the wall of the gym. she sits down beside you, poking your shoulder.

“hey.”

there is a throaty groan.

“y/n~”

you stir.

“suna’s watching.”

“wait, what?” your eyes flutter open, body stretching at the sudden wake. you see how your co-captain doubles down in held back laughter, choking down a giggle present in the creases of her eyes. 

“nothing, nothing. i was waiting for you so we could store the uniforms together, but i think i’ll just do it with sato-san.”

“oh, okay,” you nod, eyes drifting back down to close. the volleyball team is still practicing, and though it’s loud, the sound of shoes sliding against polished wood suddenly becomes relaxing when you’re as tired as you are. you thank yuki for the fix and she smiles at you with a sympathetic look in her eyes.

the next time you wake up, your eyes are forced open when a volleyball comes close to your head. 

“shit! sorry!” the boy you recognise as ginjima hitoshi from some of suna’s stories is bowing on a fourty-five degree angle, face cringing in regret. he jogs lightly to pick up the ball and bring it back but suna sends him a look and a thumb, telling him that he’ll get it instead.

when suna approaches you in all his 185 centimetre glory, there is a sort of gleam that radiates off of him. you’re not sure if it’s the smirk at how flustered you are or the sheen of sweat covering his skin, but it makes a heat rise up your neck at how close he is when he leans in and squats over you to retrieve the ball.

then again, you’ve been burning up all day.

“are you okay?” suna’s voice is low and almost a whisper.

“what?” you shake your head, “yeah, yeah. i’m fine. don’t worry.”

he nods and picks up the ball. you watch as he slowly steps away, so you call, “suna?”

he looks back with nonchalance.

“walk me to the bus stop?”

the answer is ‘always’.

early august is when the summer begins to cool down, signalling the latter half of the year to come. your summer uniforms no longer stick to your skin with heat, but lie loosely on shoulders and limbs as short sleeves made of thin material.

still, you feel hot.

it’s one thing to be tired and lethargic, but it’s another to feel like your eyes are begging to close and your hands are searching for something to cover.

suna notices this in the way that you’re talking less on a friday night and how you’re walking in unsure lines. he wishes he had brought a hoodie or sweater with him.

the sky has become a deeper indigo after practice, and though the lights have turned on, it doesn’t seem like your vision is alright, either. you continue to stumble and mumble out words that suna can only make out as assurances of “i’m okay” and “don’t worry.” of course he worries.

“we’re almost at the bus stop,” suna’s hand lingers around your wrist, unsure of whether you need it or not.

still, you grab it, and it makes a world of a difference when you begin to lean on him. he feels your temperature, feverish yet freezing, and he makes sure to hold you up until the bus stop.

“actually,” you try your best to talk coherently, “can i walk you home?”

suna furrows his brows, “what do you mean?”

“i’ll tell my mom that i’m staying over at a friend’s. it’s fine.”

suna questions your resolve at staying over at his place, especially when you’re sick. he knows he can’t take care of you like your mother might. and yet, he’s always weak to your requests, seemingly unable to say no whenever you ask him.

“okay,” he tells you, and he feels the arm around his hand wrap tighter. it reminds him of that one night on the bus.

“wait, lemme carry your bag.”

you look up at him from where you’re slouching, “hm? oh. sure.”

now he has a backpack and a duffel bag slung across his torso, your arm linked to his as you two walk along the sidewalk outside of school. it hasn’t been long since the two of you left, but the night seems to come earlier despite it being only august.

the walk grows silent, characterised by heavy breathing from your end and concerned looks from his. you stare at the ground, where the rubble and asphalt are sometimes withered, and try to match up your steps to the boy’s, focusing on the one-two-one-two of your feet.

it’s only a five minute walk to suna’s place, and you thank heavens that it is, for by the time he opens his door, you’re stumbling into the room and holding onto the sofa, eyes asking for permission to lay down.

he nods, unsure if his sofa’s even comfortable enough for you to sleep on. he feels weird, and wonders if you’d be in good hands when you return home on a saturday morning from a “friend”’s house. would you be in trouble if your mother found out you had resorted to staying at a boy’s place with a fever?

it’s like you almost hear his thoughts, “don’t worry, suna, one good night’s sleep and i’m going to be good.”

“but you haven’t had dinner?” suna hates how he sounds like a parent.

you whimper, tossing and turning on your back, “okay.”

with that, suna begins to wait for his rice cooker as he pulls out a packet of instant miso soup, hoping that something warm would help you sleep better. it takes a short amount of time for him to pour in the hot water and paste, mixing it in a bowl, before keeping it still on the table while waiting for the rice. 

in the meantime, he makes himself another bowl of instant miso soup, hands going on autopilot as his mind drifts off into a frenzy of thoughts. will you be okay? will this be okay? how long have you been unwell for? are you overworking yourself? he’s never even seen you at the school canteen. how often have you been eating?

the questions rattling his mind are interrupted by the beeping of the rice cooker. he opens its lid and is introduced to steam, still hot when he reaches in with a spatula to scoop some rice for you.

he brings the food to the table in front of the sofa with a warm glass of water. tapping your shoulder to remind you, he’s hesitant to have you wake up after you’ve finally laid still. 

“for me?” you squint.

“yeah. for you.” suna has his food right next to yours, thinking he might make you feel a little bit better if you’re not eating alone. 

when you shimmy yourself down from the sofa, the two of you coexist in silence once more, the only sounds being chewing and gulping down soup or water. none of you mind, really, although it’s not what usually happens when the two of you are spending time together, usually filled with banter and, more recently, flirtatious remarks.

suna wonders if he’ll ever get to embrace you soon. your figure cowers as you eat, sometimes leaning on the front of the sofa for support. he should embrace you. he wants to embrace you. he doesn’t embrace you.

when you try your best to finish your meal, he tells you you’re doing great. suna’s surprised those words even come out of him, seeing as he’s never really congratulated anyone outside of volleyball before, but your soft smile tells him everything he needs to know.

thank you.

you lift yourself back up onto the sofa, curling up. suna gets you a wool blanket, a spare from his room, and covers you with it. he sees you smile again.

suna puts away the dishes, leaving them in the sink for doing tomorrow. he’s still in his school uniform, and so are you. by the likes of eight-thirty in the evening, he can tell you’re just about ready to pass out into sleep.

until he hears your voice.

“you’re so great, suna.”

there is no other voice but yours.

“you let me sleep on the bus, found me that morning on the bleachers, helped me with my work,” you trail off, but suna keeps listening.

“you take care of me,” you tumble through your words, turning as you lay, “i guess that’s why i like you.”

suna freezes.

it’s a gamble, whether or not you’re awake, but he decides. there is silence in the air and the smell of warm miso soup wafting against the walls, and he tells you something he’s never cared to tell anyone before.

“i like you too. goodnight.”

suna feels his heart beating in his ears all night.

he twists under his covers. shit.

does this mean we’re dating now?

“suna?”

the boy almost jumps when he sees you in the morning, peeking through his bedroom door.

“oh, right. y/n.” 

his heart still beats in seemingly uneven patterns in his chest, the memory of last night still fresh in his mind. there is only one question in his mind: do you remember it as much as he does?

“um, i’m all better now. so-”

“that’s good,” suna’s stomach growls. he lifts himself out of his bed, squeezing through the doorframe where you’re leaning. you don’t miss the way he leans into you, just slightly, the deeper baritone of his morning voice sounding further into your ears as he groans and walks out.

he stops at the table, however, and his face almost turns entirely red in surprise.

“you made this?”

you come up to the table, urging him to take a seat. breakfast: leftover rice and fish from yesterday’s lunch and dinner. suna remembers how his mother would always urge him to eat fish for breakfast, even sending him cuts of frozen fish from time to time.

“i wanted to thank you for yesterday, at least. i’m sorry if i’m intruding, or something.”

suna shakes his head, “no, you’re not.”

“that’s- that’s good then.”

breakfast fizzles into silence as you take a seat across the table, the air somehow stuffy. was it the fact that you had stayed over? had you burdened him by being sick? did you miss out on something?

mornings are never usually this quiet, but suna eats with a wholesomeness that makes you swoon. you’ve started to think that his mind is full when his mouth is devoid of words, and that his mind is only clear when his mouth is full. it’s cute, you think, how his bed hair seems to look more tame than his usual hair, or how his bed shorts are a bright red. 

“you staring?”

you return to your food, “never in a million years.”

“that’s a pretty long time.”

you hum in a half-joke, cringing inwardly at your own words. 

“hey, uh,” suna hesitate, wondering what had happened that made the two of you so stiff, “can i take you home?”

you’re really missing something here.

here’s what you’d expect: the boy walks you home, leaves you at the bus stop. what you’re getting is miles away from it. 

“suna, are you okay with this?”

suna does a double take between you and his phone, “sure. why wouldn’t i be?”

“i don’t know, i’m…” you don’t know how to continue your sentence. i’m not wearing anything underneath your hoodie, you want to tell him, but you’re not quite sure about his reaction.

“what?” he shakes his head, “anyways, i was the one that offered my clothes to you. no big deal.”

“right, no big deal.”

“now, c’mon, we walking you home or not?” he opens the door, and you scoot outside slowly, waiting for him as he locks the door. when he finishes, he comes to you, closer, and intertwines his hand in yours.

his hand, in yours. what?

“s-suna, the bus!” you blurt out in surprise.

suna hums in a question, “yeah, what? we’re taking the bus, right?”

you glance down at where your hands are connected, “right. i’ll pay.”

he lets you pay for the tickets this time, the bus ride keeping you company with caring conversation and, of course, a comforting hand. 

you had never thought you would be getting so close to this boy so quick, and yet here you were, taking him to your house on a saturday morning.

you wonder how your parents would react to you hanging off a boy’s arm like this.

when you two reach your stop, the sky is sunny, seemingly cooler with the way suna’s damp and newly-washed hair shines in the light. you tell him things, jokes, little stories about your childhood as you stroll through the neighbourhood. you care to take him the long way home, unsure if the butterflies in your stomach would subside if you spent some time holding them off.

"are you doing anything after the interhigh?” suna asks eagerly.

“well, the cultural festival is coming up. and honoka’s leaving, so i’ll take her to the airport and everything.”

“oh,” suna mumbles, “that’s cool.”

you shrug, “i guess so.”

he looks at you for longer than usual, “i’ll miss you.”

you bite your lip in attempt to hide your surprise, “don’t try to miss me too much! besides, i’m not going anywhere.”

you notice that you can’t make eye contact with the boy in fears of being flustered even more. yet, he picks up on it, “are you flustered?”

“and if i was?”

“that’s no problem. we’re, you know.”

“we’re... what?”

“you know...” his voice softens, “dating.”

your eyebrows furrow immediately, your hand unknowingly slipping from his grip, “wait, we are?”

“i thought you remembered.”

“remembered what?”

“last night, when we said we liked each other. do you not feel that way anymore?” suna shoves his hands in his shorts pockets, the embarrassment creeping up his face.

“wait, i don’t get it!” you wave your hands around in confusion, “i mean, i do... feel... that way... but i was sick! i didn’t remember anything, of course.”

“oh god.”

“you’re not mad, are you?”

the boy shakes his head, “no, i’m just- really embarrassed.”

you peer at suna, who has his hand covering his face, head titled up, shadow long against the sun. the kids around the area gaze up at his tall figure, and then at you, recognising your face from the neighbourhood.

one of them even comes close to you, and you recognise him as the boy who lives two blocks away from you, “nee-san, is that your boyfriend?”

you look back, and one glance at suna has you close to letting out a loud snicker. you bend down, arms crossing into the hoodie he lent you today, “we’ll see.”

suna doesn’t know whether to laugh or smile when the little boy bursts into tears, mumbling a string of inaudible words that he can only guess spell out an unrequited love.

you return to suna, walking in silence at first. now it’s his turn to be confused.

“so i’m ‘we’ll see’?”

“reciprocated feelings don’t always equal dating, suna,” you say. 

“yeah, sorry i-”

you speak first, “and i’m thinking about it. s’not a bad offer, y’know?”

“oh, shut up.”

“you’re telling me to what now?”

suna leans over to one side, quickly saying, “hey, isn’t this your house? the birdbath?”

“oh, definitely.” you have your hands on your hips, the playful air that you’re so used to having returned, “my house is number twenty, dumbass.”

“you’re calling me a what now?” he mocks.

you hit him on the shoulder, lightly, a hint of a flirt in your touch.

there is comfort stored into the space between the two of you once more, and it eases you to know things would always come back to the way they were between you two. maybe there is an added sort of suggestion, in the way his hand twitches when he stares at you, or the way you seem to love folding your arms against his hoodie.

“anyways. we’re here. wanna meet my mom?”

“do i have a choice?”

you smile, “nope.”

as the two of you enter the house, your hand lets go of his, unconsciously on purpose, arms to the side. suna feels as if his heart beats even louder, seeing your house, and, eventually, your mother.

she peeks out from the living room, rushing to the front door as soon as you announce your presence. she takes you in her arms with a soft smile on your face, glancing at suna once before turning to you to ask how last night was. 

“is this the friend you were staying over with last night?” she whispers in your ear in a disbelieving tone, “you stayed over at a boy’s place?”

suna hears exactly what she’s saying. he swears there’s some sweat dripping down his temple.

you clear your throat, hand extending to introduce the boy. “mom, this is suna rintarou. he’s going to be playing at the interhigh i’m cheering at.”

“ah, a volleyball player! i think i might even recognise you...”

suna nods, bows. he introduces himself in the most formal way he’s ever known, which brings a cheeky smile on your mother’s face. it’s almost funny to see a ninety degree bow from someone so tall, she thinks, seeing how his seemingly scary or off putting demeanour had changed so quickly in front of her eyes.

“have you two had breakfast already?” your mother asks, to which the both of you nod. your mother smirks, and it makes you wonder why.

“anyways, just take a seat in the living room,” she motions, hand waving at the room from which the television sounds come from.

“oh, mom, do we still have those cookies?”

you mother chuckles darkly. you furrow your brows.

“alright then… i’ll get them…?” you walk out to the kitchen as your mother leads suna into the living room. she sits on the armchair across the room after suna sits awkwardly on the edge of the couch.

there is some silence as she watches the morning soap opera, eyes only flitting to the boy once the advertisements come on. once they do, though, suna becomes bombarded with questions and conversation. 

“so you’re on the starting team?”

suna nods, “yes. i play middle blocker.”

“ah, that’s why you’re so tall! then again, volleyball players are so tall…”

your mother’s remark reminds him of that one time you had whispered it under your breath. your voices sound too similar for him not to smile.

suna shifts backwards, letting himself lean into the back of the couch, though his limbs still lay stiffly along the cushions.

“have you ever played against, what was that team’s name- from tokyo!” your mother thinks, “the school sounded a lot like an animal…”

suna tries not to tense up, “uh, itachiyama?”

“hmm, no, i’ve heard of them, but not them…”

“fukurodani?”

“right! fukurodani! i’ve seen them so many times when i watch nationals that i can’t help but love to watch their plays! of course, inarizaki is great too, because now we have an even better starting team. have you ever played against those guys?”

suna nods, “yes, we have. most people have heard of their ace, bokuto koutarou.”

your mother gleefully places her hand in front of her mouth before speaking, “i do love the energy that boy brings. he’s even announced that he’s going to the v-league!”

suna lets out a breathy laugh, “right.”

your mother retracts herself, “oh, sorry, i keep getting carried away when it comes to volleyball. y/n always chooses to go to the volleyball games so i keep watching them… i didn’t know it could be so fun… are you planning on entering the v-league, rintarou?”

he stirs, shrugging, “ah… it’s still a faraway decision.”

“well, i can tell you have some talent. i remember you were the one that was subbed in as a first year in the previous nationals, right?”

suna nods as your mother recalls the way inarizaki had risen up to the semi finals with their subbed in first years. it brings a swell of pride in his chest, having been so long since people actually complimented him on his plays.

“if you do want to go to the v-league though, please don’t overwork yourself,” your mother brings up.

suna raises an eyebrow at the sudden statement. your mother continues, “our y/n here does so much that it’s landed her sick in many ways. especially as a third year and everything, and now that her best friend is moving, you know, it’s a bit shaky.”

“right, she’s told me a little bit about it.” suna looks down, fiddling with his fingers. he hates hearing the little things about how you push yourself too hard. it’s a temporarily heavy feeling at first, knowing about your constant lack of sleep and food. and now your best friend’s moving out? suna finds that he wants to warm you up in his embrace to tell you it’ll all be fine - he just doesn’t know how. at least, not yet.

“if you do work as hard as y/n, make sure you eat enough and sleep enough, okay? i can’t count the times i’ve nagged that girl to get to bed or eat her breakfast-”

“were you guys talking about me?” you barge into the room, a plate of cookies ready in your hand. you groan, “also, mom, you didn’t tell me we finished the cookies!”

“i never said we did have the cookies in the first place.”

you mutter under your breath, “what is it with people doing that to me?”

still, you seat yourself on the couch next to suna, legs crossed, cookie in hand. your mother squints, “i’ve never seen you wear that hoodie.”

suna feels his hands grow warm. 

“yeah, i’m borrowing it for a short while.” you glance at suna right after speaking, causing even more teasing looks from your mother.

“anyways, as i was saying, this girl never eats breakfast!” she begins, “and tell her to sleep earlier next time. at least ten o’clock!”

“mom, come on,” you curl up on the couch.

“it’s okay, mrs. l/n, she slept early yesterday. eight-thirty, actually.”

there is an amused look on your mother’s face. you don’t tell her it’s because you had a fever. there is a lack of conversation as your mother begins to focus her attention back on the soap opera on the television.

but she does say out loud, “i’m so glad you two did it.”

the room fills with the sound of the soap opera. you think for a little bit.

“did what?” 

“ate breakfast, of course.”

“right.” you try not to choke on your cookie.

the rest of the morning passes as suna begins to feel himself loosen up at your house, finding the couch extremely comfortable and the soap opera weirdly entertaining. there is mindless talk of the interhighs on monday, and the three of you discuss preparations, strategies, venues. when your mother isn’t looking, suna finds his hand looping around your smaller thumb, a warm feeling blooming from the touch.

when your mother does look, however, she looks at suna, and then she looks at you. 

“mom? the episode’s back on,” you call.

there is a genuine ear to ear smile on her face, eyes narrowing and shoulders relaxing.

“mom?”

shaking her head, she blinks repeatedly, “i’m so happy you ate breakfast today.” 

your mouth parts in a wordless whisper, a glance at suna telling you he’s happy, too. 

“see you on monday” is the last thing you hear from suna that week. when he hugs you as he leaves, he tells you he likes it; that he feels warm.

you don’t tell him that you’re still burning up.

on tuesday, the sun shines too bright for your liking even when you’re shielded by the large bus’ thick windows and air conditioner. your eyes feel hot, hotter than usual, and your feet need an extra amount of blankets to stop shivering. 

it doesn’t show, though, and you make sure it doesn’t. it’s only a week, you tell yourself, you can manage. you had to admit the weekend wasn’t any better than friday night, but you promise yourself to sleep early. it hasn’t always been working, though.

so you try to distract yourself. you know the volleyball players had gone a day earlier, and that their opening ceremony is today, but you also know that the ceremony ends at lunch and the next match is only tomorrow. 

your phone dings once more.

from suna: hru

to suna: cold :( the bus is so damn cold but it’s so hot outside ughh

from suna: ill lend u my jacket later ye

to suna: thank u. hows the opening?

from suna: fuckin cool wish u were there

you scoff. yuki, who’s sitting beside you, sneaks on your shoulder, “aw, he wishes you were there!”

you jump in surprise, “yuki! don’t do that!”

“you know, i didn’t expect him to be that dry.”

“okay, he’s not that dry,” you defend.

“really? is he? love is blinding, y/n.”

the bus comes to a stop, and you continue to text the boy. yuki stands up to tell everyone to bring their bags down, and that the other volleyball coach will be on standby at the hotel to check in for the cheer team. you follow suit, taking your bags and coming out of the bus. you’re greeted once more by the scorching sun, the heat on your head making you feel dizzy.

focus, you tell yourself, focus on the screen, at least.

from suna: im coming back to the hotel

to suna: omo… buy me food

from suna: hmm

to suna: cmon dont be shy

from suna: only if you buy me twice as much

meanwhile, suna’s got his jacket and backpack on, ready to go back. atsumu walks next to him, testing his patience at not sneaking a peek at suna’s phone, trying too hard to start a conversation with kita beside him. 

atsumu does wonder what goes on in the chat. maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to see… 

to suna: my god okay maybe we can get like

there’s no response. you’re not even typing. was that the end of the sentence? he closes his phone for a moment. 

he gets a notification on his phone a second later.

to suna: hi, this is yuki. something bad just happened to y/n.

“holy shit,” atsumu mutters under his breath, “suna, is your girlfriend okay?”

“atsumu, you don’t just… do that.”

“shit, sorry.”

“it’s fine,” suna sighs. there is a pang in his chest and a struggling sentence of ‘i knew it’ swimming in his mind, worry seeping from the screen to his fingers. suna pockets his phone as quickly as he reads the message, a huff leaving his lips and a quicker, rougher pace developing in his step.

“we just need to go to the hotel.”

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as always, thank you to @yooroomi​ for beta reading this series!

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x reader #hqradiostation #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #hq scenarios #hq fluff #haikyuu imagines #suna rintarou #haikyuu!! x reader #suna fluff #suna imagines #suna x you #suna rintarou x reader #suna scenarios