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sylvia-forest · 3 months

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[CN] Shaw's Small Paradise Date

⚡Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a Date which hasn't been released in EN yet!⚡

[Released Date: 1 FEB 2024]

[This date was translated with the help of Google translate ~]

[Section 1]

Some stuffy and warm air flow disrupted my sleep. I stretched and yawned, fumbling to turn off the air conditioner before slowly opening my eyes.

The sky was already clear, and the faint light leaking through the curtains was blocked by the broad figure in front of me, outlining undulating contours.

MC: Shaw…..

I couldn't help but reach out and poke his shoulder.

MC: Are you awake?

Shaw [sleepy voice]: …..Mm.

Shaw didn't turn around; instead, a nasal-toned response drifted over gently.

MC: When did you wake up? Shaw: Twenty minutes ago. MC: How come you woke up first and didn't even call me? Shaw [in a cold indifferent tone]: Wouldn't it be better to wake up naturally? MC: ……?

Seeing him continuously speaking with his back turned to me, I poked him in confusion.

MC: Shaw, are you on your phone? Why are you maintaining that posture for so long? Shaw: Nope.

...If I can't hear the indifference in his tone now, then I must be a fool.

But this early in the morning, I haven't even had the chance to annoy him, right? I couldn't help but pout.

MC: Can you turn around? It's awkward to talk like this.

Shaw [sulking×1]: Isn't this the distance you wanted? MC: ...When did I ever want this kind of distance? Don't casually slander people…..ugh!

Before I could finish speaking, the next moment, a shadow had already descended heavily upon me, rendering me immobile.

MC: Wha-what are you doing...? Shaw: What do you mean, of course, it is to judge you.

His breath tickled my forehead, making me instinctively wrinkle my nose. This action seemed to be misunderstood by Shaw as resistance, so he chuckled coldly.

Shaw [continuation×2 + sounds a little bit hurt]: I'm asking you, last night I pulled you into my arms twice, and you struggled free twice. What's the meaning of that? Shaw [×3]: Do you despise me? MC: Of course not!

I suddenly felt incredibly unjust. Just as I was about to argue with him, a vague memory flashed through my mind, causing my words to get stuck in my throat.

Last night, I did feel his hands assertively wrap around me.

And then, in a half-asleep state, it seems like... I subconsciously struggled to free myself a couple of times.

Thinking about this, I awkwardly tugged at the corner of my mouth.

MC [testing the water]: Uh, yesterday doesn't count, right? Shaw [in a cold threatening voice]: Why doesn't it count?

My mind raced as I quickly searched for reasons to justify my actions from yesterday.

MC: Because the air conditioning was set high yesterday, it was a bit hot when we were cuddled together... MC: And, um, your arm was a bit too firm and uncomfortable to rest on, so I... um, made a technical adjustment!

Shaw [sulking×4 + feeling hurt]: You mean, you feel uncomfortable when I hold you to sleep?

[T/N]: Call me insane but I'm in love with his sulky and pouty voice *bangs my head on the wall*

MC: I didn't say I felt uncomfortable, it was...well, my body didn't listen to me in my sleep… Shaw [×5]: Oh, so it was just your body instinctively moving away from me.

MC: No! Shaw, why are you like this…

Seeing the situation escalating, I didn't know how else to explain myself. Shaw had already cut me off.

Shaw [smirks]: Okay.

Shaw squinted his eyes halfway and interrupted me.

Shaw [someone is holding a grudge]: It's really my problem that I didn't take your feelings into consideration.

Shaw [finally made up his mind]: I'll pay attention next time.

As the restraints on me loosened, Shaw turned to get off the bed. I quickly sat up and grabbed his arm, blinking at him with a hint of guilt.

MC: Wait, wait, are you sure you're not just saying the opposite out of anger? Shaw: Am I that kind of person?

Shaw raised his eyebrows as he spoke, leaned over, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose.

MC: …..?!

I stared at him in astonishment, and he responded with an innocent yet subtle smile.

Shaw [reluctantly accepts the current situation + plays the part of a wounded person]: It's just one night without cuddling. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future.

Shaw [lovingly]: Besides, today is Valentine's Day. Why would I quarrel with my dear and beloved?

—

[Section 2]

Something was off. Very off.

After getting up, Shaw went about his morning routine as if nothing had happened. He even "thoughtfully" brought me breakfast from downstairs.

However, my keen intuition told me — this guy was definitely still sulking.

MC: The worst I can do is stay still tonight… Shaw: What did you say? MC: I said, Tonight, you can pull me however you want, I'll definitely stay put!

Shaw: …… Shaw [sighs]: Why are you still worrying about what happened in the morning? I forgot about it. MC: Is that so?

Shaw didn't answer my question, he just raised his hand and pushed the soy milk on the table towards me.

Shaw: Only a three-year-old child loves to pry like this. Hurry up and drink your soy milk, we should go to the antique shop after you're done. MC: Huh, are we spending Valentine's Day at the antique shop today? Shaw: I was just planning to clean up there, but if you want to spend time there, that's fine too. MC: Why clean up today?

Shaw saw that I was still confused, and a familiar teasing smile appeared on his face.

Shaw [laughs + starts teasing her]: Tsk tsk, isn't there someone who dreams of getting rich overnight every day? How could you forget that today is also the fifth day of the Lunar New Year when we welcome the God of Wealth?

MC: !!Welcoming the God of Wealth! We need to hurry and set off, or else we'll be late, what if there's traffic on the God of Wealth's route?

I instantly got excited and quickly finished the soy milk, pulling Shaw towards the door.

With one hand being pulled by me, Shaw used his other hand to grab a couple's beret from the hanger and put it on my head.

Shaw [clicks his tongue + in a low, sulking, jealous voice]: ...Who knew in the eyes of a fool, the God of Wealth is more important than 'lover'.

[T/N]: MC WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!!

—

The antique shop has been closed for less than half a month, and there was already a thin layer of dust in the room.

We quickly divided the tasks and started cleaning with our respective tools.

Before long, the various items in the store were shining with their appropriate luster and colors.

Shaw lit a stick of incense and respectfully placed it in front of the God of Wealth's altar. Then, he found a yellow paper from somewhere and spread it out on the table, picking up a brush to start writing.

Curiously, I leaned in to see what he was writing and followed along with his vigorous strokes, reading each word aloud.

MC: Inviting the Five God of Wealth to descend, humbly requesting... What is this?

Shaw: It's the invocation script for the Five God of Wealth. Shaw: Since we're welcoming the God of Wealth, we should do it properly. We need to specify our wishes, our address, the auspicious date... everything has to be written meticulously. Shaw [as a matter of fact]: Otherwise, how would the God's know who is asking for wealth? MC: Oh, I see. It's like how some people nowadays report their ID numbers when they go to burn incense! Shaw [chuckles]: That's what it means. MC: Then you quickly help me write it, may the God of Wealth bless us to win big prizes every day this year, and even pick up money while walking! Shaw: Why, the jackpot won last year wasn’t big enough?

Thinking of my experience of becoming an island owner and winning an RV last year, I raised my chin proudly.

Reference from his “Four season” event and “6th Anniversary” event!

MC: Hum hum, I am so greedy! MC: Besides, if I won a lottery, it will benefit both of us~

Shaw [in sync with her energy]: Alright, I'll help you write it. Let me keep benefiting from your good luck next year.

As I watched Shaw earnestly write down the whimsical wishes, a hint of sweetness brewed in my heart.

It felt as though some kind of power was truly born from his brush strokes, capable of conveying our intentions to the ethereal Gods.

We spread the invocation script in front of the God of Wealth statue, just after lighting the incense and making our wishes, when suddenly there were two knocks on the door of the shop.

We both turned around and faced Mr. Yan's smiling face. The other person held a pig doll in one hand and made a bow to us.

Lao Yan: Shaw, MC, Happy New Year!

[T/N]: Here Lao Yan calls them little Ling and little MC in Chinese but it doesn't look great in the EN version so gonna go along with just their names only.

Shaw [in a cheerful voice]: Happy New Year to you, old man. What's the matter? Lao Yan: There you go, just this matter in my hands.

Lao Yan had a look of helplessness on his face, and he patted the pig doll in his hand.

Lao Yan: I accidentally washed the doll my granddaughter sleeps with, and just bought her a new one as an apology, but the little girl doesn't want it. Lao Yan: She said this is not what she wants, she doesn't like it. Lao Yan: You young people understand these things better. How about you, MC and you, help me buy one? It's the big New Year, I don't want the little girl to be unhappy because of this.

Shaw and I exchanged a glance, clearly asking for my opinion. I pondered for a moment.

MC: If it's a doll to sleep with, then I know what kind to buy.

—

[Section 3]

Miniature floppy-eared rabbits, chubby ducks, and even anthropomorphic vegetables, insects...

As soon as I entered the doll store, I was dazzled by the dazzling array of dolls.

MC: Wow, this eggplant is so cute!! MC: This long-haired rabbit is so adorable!

I let go of the little rabbit plushie, then hugged a half-sized elephant plush toy, reluctant to let go, I rubbed against it contentedly.

MC: Shaw, this one is so soft to hold!

Shaw stood a few steps away, arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

Shaw [elongates his tone]: So you like soft ones so much. MC: Huh? What does that mean?

I was a bit slow to react, and Shaw's jaw raised even higher.

Shaw [a hint of displeasure hidden in his voice]: I said, if you think it is comfortable to hold, buy it. MC [burst out laughing]: ….Pff.

— —Sure enough, you still care!

Unexpectedly, without me probing, this guy exposed his tangled thoughts that he had been holding in for half the day.

I found it somewhat amusing, unable to resist teasing him, I winked at him.

MC [starts acting]: Well, it's too soft for me. I prefer something with just the right amount of firmness when I hug it~

Shaw [shocked]: …..

Shaw seemed momentarily stunned by my comment, his lips parted and closed again, before finally tilting his head to the side in silence.

Shaw [clears his throat + pretends not to hear it and starts teasing her]: Okay, aren't you here to choose a doll for Lao Yan's granddaughter? Why are you discussing your own preferences?

Changing the subject again, how boring. I rolled my eyes and showed him the photo on my phone.

MC: I've found the one I want to buy for the kid. MC: I just had Lao Yan took a photo of the damaged doll. We'll buy the same model.

Shaw [having a hard time to believe]: Are you sure? There are so many new models here.

MC: Of course I'm sure. Didn’t Lao Yan say that this doll was for children to hold while sleeping? MC: It indicates that, in her heart, this is the softest and most familiar comfort toy.

I picked up the doll that was exactly the same as in the photo and gestured towards Shaw.

MC: No matter how good the new models are, they can't compare to the comfort of that one that holds a special place in her heart.

Shaw looked at the doll in my hand and nodded.

Shaw: You know a lot about this. MC: This is my experience. Didn’t you sleep with a stuffed animal when you were a child? Shaw: No MC [happily]: If you have a chance, you can try it. Sleeping with a doll in your arms will make you feel at ease~

Shaw's expression once again turned peculiar, and he chuckled, then walked over to the shelf.

Shaw: I'm too lazy to try, but you seem to really want to relive the feeling of your childhood. Shaw: Why don't you choose a sleeping doll that you feel comfortable with and has moderate hardness and softness? Shaw [starts playing the role of a wounded person×1]: From now on, you will sleep with it in your arms, and you will feel at ease. Shaw [×2]: Well, I think this red panda one is pretty good… MC: Shaw!

Seeing Shaw earnestly selecting a plush toy, I quickly interrupted his soliloquy.

MC: I don't want this red panda.

Shaw turned his head, returning my gaze defiantly.

Shaw [continues with the act×3]: So, which one do you want? The rabbit, the shark, the giraffe, or maybe the eggplant, the bread? MC: Don't want any!

I reached for the nearby keychain, grabbed his hand, and slipped it into his fingers.

MC: I just want this "red panda", is that okay?

In an instant, a faint blush flashed across Shaw's face, yet he deliberately pouted his lips downward.

Shaw [carefully testing her by acting all innocent]: Weren't some people picky before? Why are they suddenly attracted to it now? MC: It's not like I suddenly took a liking to it now. I've been chasing after him for a very, very long time, planning to stay by his side for the rest of my life!

Shaw's throat bobbed heavily, and he looked down at his ring finger, then raised his gaze, staring longer into my eyes.

Shaw: Even if he's very rigid, very stubborn, and his actions are unreasonable, would you still want this uncomfortable little panda? MC: Yes. MC: Because he gives me the most comfort when he hugs, is that not okay? Shaw: Okay.

Finally, Shaw revealed his brightest smile of the day, and with a flick of his wrist, he firmly clasped my fingertips.

Shaw [in a really really good mood]: But I have to remind you, once you're bound to this little panda, there's no return or exchange.

—

[Section 4]

Even though I was bound to this "little panda," I still couldn't resist the adorable onslaught of the shop's merchandise and ended up buying several plushies.

After delivering the doll to Lao Yan's granddaughter, Shaw and I took the other plushies home.

After I got home, I happily placed the dolls on the sofa one by one, then sat among them and turned on the TV.

MC: This is the perfect sofa!

Shaw [feeling jealous]: ?How come it's perfect? They filled the sofa. Where's my place?

Shaw placed the cola on the coffee table, then discontentedly picked up a small dinosaur by its tail and placed it on the floor. He then squeezed in and pulled me into his arms.

Shaw [feeling satisfied with his action]: .....This is perfect.

The TV kept replaying the New Year's gala from a few days ago. I flipped through a few channels but couldn't find anything interesting, so I simply handed the remote control to Shaw.

MC: Is there anything you want to see? Shaw: No, TV programs are boring to begin with, and the Spring Festival ones are even more boring. MC: Shaw, you're holding a renowned TV show producer in your arms!

Shaw [acts like he just realized this fact]: Oh, how about watching a TV show produced by this well-known program producer?

Shaw, while saying so, actually picked up the remote control and switched to Loveland TV, where a variety show produced by [MC Company name] happened to be airing.

MC: Ah, don’t look—— ——

I let out a cry of dismay, trying to grab the remote control from Shaw, but he deliberately extended his arm to prevent me from taking it away.

Shaw: Why not let me see it? MC: It’s not that you are not allowed to read it, but will you read your final thesis in front of relatives and friends during the Lunar Year? MC: And when I saw the faces of these guests, I was reminded of those troubling things during the shooting again...

When Shaw heard what I said, his interest became even higher.

Shaw: I'm not interested in the show, but I'm very interested in the story that tortures you. Tell me?

What kind of person are you!

I hummed twice, slid down a bit, and rested my head on his shoulder.

MC: Just look at this middle-aged man wearing a pink tie. He was fine during rehearsals, but after the official shoot, he always likes to improvise... MC: And here, do you feel that the editing was stiff? It’s because the original challenge content was not what is being broadcast now… MC: One time, the host and the lighting technician got into an argument, and it ended with everyone's supper being spilled...

Shaw chuckled as he listened to me rambling on about my grievances, occasionally adding a comment or two to commiserate. Meanwhile, the program on the screen gradually came to an end.

This day was obviously no different from any other day, but I felt a fresh sense of comfort cuddling up with him like this.

Was it because he was listening to my worries while shooting? Or was it because the little misunderstanding in the morning was resolved?

Is it because we made a shared wish for this year together in the antique shop?

Or is it simply because today is Valentine's Day, and our moods are just good?

I can't figure it out, and I'm too lazy to think about it. I just hope that this comfortable feeling can continue indefinitely.

Shaw: MC. MC: ….Hm? Shaw [carefully]: Do you feel comfortable like this now? MC: Hey, why are you thinking about the same thing as me?

I nodded contentedly.

MC: It’s so comfortable now. Your chest is so wide. I can lie down wherever I want~

Shaw [in a good mood + his lazy voice×1]: But didn't you notice that your hair keeps rubbing on my face?

MC: Ah? But I just moved down. Shaw [×2]: A bit further down. MC: Okay... like this?

Shaw clicked his tongue and wrapped one arm around my shoulders while using his other hand to pinch my face, moving my head to rest against his collarbone.

Shaw [satisfied]: This is more comfortable. MC: No no, I feel uncomfortable like this.

I adjusted myself with seriousness and then placed Shaw's hand on my waist before lifting my face to look at him.

MC: What do you think of this posture now? MC: You see, my legs fit perfectly on yours, and there's room for your arms too. MC: My arms can move too, and they won't block your line of sight either...

Shaw [chuckles sexily]: How come you sound like you're giving a product report?

MC: Of course, I have to explain clearly why this position is good! MC: Otherwise, what if we adjust into another awkward position that makes both of us uncomfortable? Shaw: Really.

Shaw lowered his eyes and stared at me. After a moment, he raised the corner of his mouth.

Shaw [HIS HUSKY VOICE FILLED WITH MISCHIEF]: But you seem to have forgotten to mention the biggest advantage of this posture. MC: Hmm? What advantages?

Shaw [IN A LOW SEXY WHISPER]: Kissing you is easy.

He lowered his head and easily captured my slightly parted lips.

The kiss was irresistible. The sweet breath blends into a thin mist, which quickly escapes between the lips and teeth.

I widened my eyes, and the next moment, a long leg firmly pinned down my attempt to move.

Meanwhile, that unreasonable hand firmly held my jaw, and each touch of his fingers along the side of my neck sent shivers down my spine.

Under his assault, the original position gradually collapsed. The plushies on the sofa also fell to the ground one after another in the melee, rolling around with the little dinosaur.

When our lips finally parted, I couldn't help but use my free hand to lightly pinch his arm.

MC: Why did you sneak attack again…

Shaw grinned triumphantly, his eyes filled with the satisfaction of a successful ambush.

Shaw [HIS SULTRY VOICE SKSKSK]: Calling it an ambush doesn't sound too good. Shaw [×2]: This is a lightning strike, specifically targeting the unprepared.

The protest I just uttered was swallowed back by him.

This time, it wasn't clear whose body pressed against the remote control. In the corner of my eye, the noisy scene on the screen flickered twice, then turned into a blank screen.

Suddenly, the room became exceptionally quiet, making each other's breaths and every friction of our clothes unusually clear.

The narrow sofa contained two violently beating hearts, and also contained the romance that only belonged to me and him in this peaceful evening.

My hand inadvertently brushed against his ring finger—where I had left a "trapped" mark during the day.

Now it was empty, but I knew there was no need for any ring to lock it down; this person belonged to me.

MC: By the way, Shaw…

I was immersed in the aftertaste of happiness, and suddenly remembered something.

MC: You said, now that we have adjusted the perfect sitting position, can we also find a sleeping position that is comfortable for both of us? Shaw [×3]: You're addicted to adjusting?

Shaw smiled and lowered his head, lightly nibbling on the tip of my nose.

Shaw [×4]: There's no need to adjust your sleeping position. I've already figured out how to deal with you. Shaw [DAMN HIS VOICE HERE WAS SO SEXY]: Tonight, set the air conditioning to 16 degrees. I don't believe you won't snuggle into my arms.

[T/N]: BYE BYE WORLD, IT WAS NICE KNOWING YOUUUU. Man PG do know how to quench our thirst🤭 damn I wasn't expecting the last part to be soooo hot🔥🔥

—

💍Call

#shaw stans i hope you stay sane after reading both his EN and CN valentine date 🫡#PG should have name the date as “sulking shaw” instead of “small paradise” you'll know later ~#the very start of this date was so dynamic till the ending part which was so hot🌊#mlqc spoilers #mr love queen's choice #mlqc shaw #mlqc #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc translation #mlqc ling xiao

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layanasstories · 2 years

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Oblivion

FOUR

The first night was no different, I had many dreams but no nightmares. Then on day one without medication I still noticed no difference. I just followed my routine as usual, except that I went to buy the cookies for Andy, as I had promissed. The second night was terrible, the nightmare was even more realistic than before.

Faces were clear, names I could remember when I woke up, Dan, Jessy and Lilly. And even though the events were the same, the places where it played out were different. Certainly the last part, I was not locked in a barn, but in a tunnel or cave. And one name stuck, Jake. I couldn't determine which face that name belonged to, but it kept slumbering in the back of my mind. Day two was a disaster, my routine was disrupted because I slept through my alarm. As a result, I couldn't take a shower and forgot to bring my lunch to work. I missed the subway, and was two minutes late because of that. The working day itself was okay, I did my job as I always did. Wednesday is always a super busy day, I didn't have time for lunch anyway, so it didn't make much difference that I forgot my sandwiches.

Only on the way home in the subway I was attacked by flashes of images. A man who looked vaguely familiar, eyes begging for forgiveness. Images of forests, black birds. None of these images are memories of the past four years. "Would he be right after all?" I muttered to myself. The third night, my nightmare was like a movie. It wasn't a glued together illogical order of things, as it usually was. It was a clear as day movie, every detail, every face, everything was clearly visible. Despite that I still woke up with a scream and I cried my eyes out, I felt no emotions linked to these images, I cried because it was such a sad story. I didn't want to give in, although deep down I knew what these nightmares meant. The fire has burned my skin, the scars on my arms are proof of that. Until recently I thought because of the car accident. But now I'm starting to doubt that. My nightmares tell me a very different story, even though I can't connect myself to them. Day three, I called in sick from work. I couldn't bring myself to go, instead I grabbed a notepad and started writing down everything I could remember about my nightmares.

I stopped when my brain started to stutter and no new things came up. I looked at it briefly, but didn't want to analyze it just yet. I got up to stretch my legs and make a cup of coffee. While I'm waiting for my coffee to be ready, I ponder what else I could write. Then I realize that I don't really know much about my time in the hospital. Those, too, are just fragments of images. With my coffee in hand I grab a new piece of paper. When I want to start, I put my cup on the paper with my distracted head, which makes a circle, and stain the paper with some coffee drops. I wipe it clean with my sleeve instead of getting a new piece of paper. Then as with the previous one I start writing down which names I still remember.

Finally, I draw a big question mark next to everything. If I still scratch the paper with my pen, thinking, an image pops up that I've never seen before. I lie on a stretcher and I am carried out of a tunnel-like space. I remember the smell of fire and smoke. But can't make anything out of it other than this image. Annoyed, I put my pen down. "Damn, he's right. The pills are suppressing my memories" I sigh through my teeth. I pick up my phone and see to my dismay that it is already late afternoon. "Why does time always go so fast, when you need more of it." I roll my eyes at myself. Then I open the chat.

Layana: Day three. And you were right. While I still don't fully trust you, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.

It really just takes a few seconds for Nym-0s to come online

Nym-0s: That's enough for me.

Layana: And what now? You said we could meet?

Nym-0s: Hungry?

Layana: What?

Nym-0s: Are you hungry?

Layana: I am always hungry...

Nym-0s: I know :) Let's meet, I know a little restaurant, it's quiet enough to talk, but busy enough for you to feel comfortable.

Nym-0s: What do you say?

I think for a moment, it doesn't feel safe at all. But what have I got to lose? Nothing right?

Layana: Okay. Send me the address.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood game #iamjake #duskwood fanfiction

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

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Pet Names, Double Dates and Other Fiascos

READ PLATONICALLY

Request: SECOND ARO FIC OH MY GOD !!!! maybe them getting a lil dirty and ben really does a number on reader, so he takes her to mcdonalds or sumn and the waiter says something along the lines of “you’re such a cute couple!” and reader gets really uncomfortable with it maybe??? and ben being taking her home and cuddling her PLATONICALLY and he’s like “it’s ok we don’t need to let anyone else’s opinions affect us”

Pairing: Aromantic!Fem!Reader x Ben Hardy

Summary: It's (nearly) all fun and games until someone assumes your relationship is romantic.

Warnings: Smut, kitchen sex, floor sex, oral sex (f receiving), a mild hint at choking, vaguely dom!Ben but not intentionally lmao, discussions of aromanticism and queerplatonic relationships, not as dialogue heavy as the first part though.

Words: 7, 264

A/N: Happy Arospec Awareness Week!! Big thanks to the anon who sent in that request when I asked for ideas for future chapters. I put a little bit of a twist on your idea but it’s fundamentally the same. Also the last scene is one that I’ve been thinking about for literal months now and I finally managed to fit it into a fic!

As always, if you’re curious about anything to do with aromanticism I am very happy to talk about it and answer questions!

Taglist: @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @scorpiogemini

The day had started off well. You woke with Ben tucked up under your arm, his legs curled up towards his chest since you’d stole the covers as you’d slept. Your face was pressed against the back of his neck and you felt him shift as you sighed sleepily and tried to keep from waking. Squeezing your eyes shut and pretending you hadn’t stirred must have worked because the next thing you knew was waking up to an empty bed and tinkly tapping sounds from somewhere else in the apartment. Groggily you shuffled out from the inviting comfort of the mattress, stretched, and pulled down the hem of the shirt you’d slept in to better cover your otherwise bare thighs before following the noises. You found Ben, still in his pyjamas (well, his boxer briefs) in the kitchen, dropping a couple of toasted waffles onto a plate, humming to himself.

“That for me?” you asked, stifling a yawn. “It can be,” he said, passing the plate to you with a quick kiss on your cheek, “There’s some cut up fruit and the maple syrup out on the coffee table and there’s coffee brewing over there,” “Thanks Benny,” “You’re welcome, Puddin’,” “Puddin’?” “I thought it was cute,” “Very cute.” You laughed as you reached for your coffee, unable to help but smile as you left the room. The first few months of your partnership had taken some adjusting and one thing Ben had decided he would do to make you both feel more at home with the dynamic was to come up with some non-romantic based terms of endearment for you. You’d vetoed things like baby and honey straight away, all of them a little too heavily skewed towards romance, or just reminders of past relationships you’d tried to force yourself into, for you to enjoy them. But, as Ben had said, he liked a good pet name, and he’d seemingly been determined to prove as much, constantly coming up with new things to call you. You, never really one for pet names anyway, mostly stuck with Benny or Benjamin if the situation called for something longer but you had a few other go-tos – things like Pet and Blondie as signs of affection, or Handsome and Tiger when you wanted to make him blush.

A few minutes later Ben joined you on the couch, placing his coffee down beside yours, almost spilling it as he watched the news story that was playing. “Remember we’ve got that double date with Jill and Martin this afternoon,” you said, the memory only just coming to you yourself. “Yeah, what time was that?” “Hang on, I’ll check the chat.” You scrolled through the messages on your phone with one hand while you ate with the other, “uhhh right, yeah, meeting at the bowling alley at 1.30.” “Bowling? Good, better than another shitty movie,” You laughed, “hey the last one they picked wasn’t too bad.” “Yeah I know, just not in the mood for it since I’ve been on set all week. I know if I went to the cinema now I’d just get distracted thinking about all the behind the scenes stuff which isn’t ideal for becoming invested in the story. Plus they’re always choosing romcoms, doesn’t that get annoying for you?” “Not really,” you shrugged, “I mean, do I sometimes wish they’d branch out? Sure. But I enjoy romance in fiction I just don’t need it in my real life. Don’t get me wrong though, very happy to do something different this time.” “How long d’you think we’ll be out?” You shrugged, “A few hours maybe?” “We should pop to the shop on the way back then. You need milk and we could get something nice for dinner.” “Sounds good. Does that mean you’re staying over again tonight?” “I was planning to, yeah. Barely saw you last week so I was hoping to spend all weekend with you to make up for it.” “Bet you regret agreeing to go out with them now,” “Kinda. S’pose it’s too late to cancel though,” “Nah you still could but you know they’ll get stroppy about it and we’ll have to go out with them next week. They don’t have any other couple friends since Neil and Percy split and Bianca took her fella overseas.” “Yeah, wasn’t seriously suggesting it.” “What would the plan have been if we did cancel?” Ben chewed a mouthful of fruit thoughtfully, “you, me, your bed. No need to be too quiet since Sophie’s still out,” he glanced at your roommate’s bedroom door, his eyes swinging back to you as he continued, “Or y’know, we could do a puzzle and listen to music all day, have a cat nap after lunch, whatever.” “You’re cute when you’re being all lazy,” “There would be nothing lazy about it thank you very much,” “Cat naps aren’t lazy?” “You know that’s not the part I was talking about,” “It wasn’t? Then what won’t be lazy,” you tried to hold back a giggle in the middle of your faux confusion but broke when Ben blew a raspberry at you in response.

Nothing more was said about cancelling as you finished your breakfast, though truthfully you probably wouldn’t have minded if Ben had cried off sick and rescheduled the double date. But you both decided that Sunday would be a day for just the two of you to make up for having to spend Saturday afternoon with others. Instead, you spoke of the week just passed and commented on the news still playing on the TV. When you were finished (Ben using the last corner of one of his waffles to swipe the remnant syrup from his plate) you stood and stacked the sticky dishes in your arms. Ben collected the coffee cups and a few other assorted dishes from the previous night, leading the way towards the kitchen and the dishwasher. He loaded his small collection onto the shelves before turning to grab the top plate from the pile you held. A noise of disgust rose from his throat as you held the plate out and he miscalculated the trajectory, his palm landing in a puddle of syrup and fruit juice. You were torn between laughing at his expression and taking the opportunity to toy with him a little but, always ready to tease him, your desire to see him blush won out. Trying not to smile too much, you reached forward and wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his palm closer so you could lick the sweet syrup from his skin. Predictably his cheeks turned pink and he pulled his lip between his teeth as you let him go with a laugh. “Bet you’re really wishing we didn’t have to go out now, huh Tiger?” Ben didn’t respond but he did react, his eyes locked on you as he swiped his fingers along the same plate and held them out in offering. Not quite sure where things were heading but very keen on finding out, you leaned forward and let your lips part slightly. He took the action for what it was, an invitation, and trailed his fingertips across your lower lip before slipping them between the two. He watched closely as you sucked his fingers deeper, using your tongue to lick up the sweet residue. There was still an element of novelty with this aspect of your partnership. Still part of you that was intensely aware that it was Ben’s fingers in your mouth. There wasn’t any hesitation though, hadn’t been since that first time when you’d both had to psych yourselves up to actually look at each other naked. But there was a part of your brain that was almost surprised when you found yourselves at the edge of a sexual situation. You suspected he was similarly discombobulated by how easy it was for you to end up there, how frequently playful teasing and friendly jokes turned into hands grasping at bed sheets and breathless moans against sweat-slick skin. He pulled his fingers free from your lips, unwilling or perhaps unable to shift his gaze away from the thin string of saliva that connected them like some kind of erotic spider web that you were both already caught in. You waited to see what he’d do next, feeling your heart race in the pregnant pause so full of potential. And then he moved. You laughed as he grabbed you around the waist and lifted you at the same moment he stepped towards the bench, your legs instinctively wrapping around him. He kissed you too, hungrily, as if it were impossible to resist. You’d looked down at him and suddenly been pulled towards each other, lips meeting with all the force and attraction of a magnetic field. Usually, he would have had a hand against the back of your head or your jaw but carrying you meant both his hands were already occupied so instead you substituted your own, tangling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to keep him from pulling away too far. As soon as you were safely positioned on the edge of the bench though his hands were free to fall elsewhere. One pressed against the small of your back as the other squeezed your thigh, encouraging you to keep your legs spread. Not that you could have closed them with Ben standing between them and not that the thought had even crossed your mind.

If you’d had all day Ben probably would have taken his time with you. Despite what he’d said earlier, you’d discovered Ben had a soft spot for slow and sensual intimacy. Making out that gradually built to passionate kiss-filled sex, foreplay that included soft caresses and whispered praise, anything that let him explore your body in intricate detail with his hands and lips. You’d been with guys like that before and had hated their insistence on linking hands and kissing you slowly. Those relationships never lasted long but with Ben it felt different, it felt good. Maybe it was because he knew you weren’t on board with overtly romantic acts and respected those boundaries you’d talked about so you never felt as if he were pushing you into a roll you didn’t enjoy. Or maybe he was just a better lover than they had been. Either way, it came to same result. You still preferred something less gentle and more energetic, though you felt you better understood the appeal of being held so close and kissed so tenderly. But with only a few hours before you’d have to start getting ready, Ben was inclined to speed things up a little. His hand quickly slipped up your thigh to press against your pussy, the cotton knickers you’d slept in the only thing keeping him from direct contact. You broke the kiss suddenly, the smacking sound loud in the small room, and dipped your head to press your lips to the notch between his clavicles. In response, Ben lifted his chin, exposing more of his throat to you and you took the chance to playfully nip at the junction where his neck and shoulder met. “Oi, no marks,” he said lwoly as you moved to kiss back up towards his jaw. “Afraid I’ll brand you with my initials?” “If you could legibly write your initials in hickeys I’d put up with whatever teasing the makeup ladies gave me,” “I’ll give it a crack then shall I?” Before you could so much as flick your tongue over his skin, Ben had raised a hand and placed it over your mouth to keep you from testing our your writing abilities, “Don’t think theres enough time, Sugar, but if you really want to I’ll let you try tonight, on my thigh where no one is likely to see it.” “Make it your arse and you’ve got a deal,” you said though it was a little muffled by his palm. “Fine,” he laughed, drawing his hand away, “But then I get to try it on you too,” You nodded, grinning, and then both fell into giggles, leaning against each other’s shoulders. This was what you’d hoped for when Ben had first approached you with the idea of being partners, what you’d been afraid you’d never actually find. Someone who would follow your tangential jokes even if it delayed sex. Someone you could be yourself with. You were distracted from the thought as Ben pressed his lips to your shoulder over the sleeve of your shirt. “Should I continue?” he asked, still smiling though softer, his fingertips lightly dancing over the crease of your thigh. “I’d be offended if you didn’t” “Can’t have that,” he leaned in to catch your lips once again, at the same time resuming stroking you over your panties so that you felt all the air leave your lungs in a rush. It felt good but you need more and so shifted your hips, trying to press yourself harder against his fingers. To get more leverage and better brace yourself as your centre of gravity changed, you dropped a hand behind you. Intuitively, Ben shifted the hand on your back higher and closer to your side to help keep you steady, the other still drawing lines along your clothed slit. You gasped as his thumb took up residence against your clit, rubbing it firmly so a visible damp patch began to form on your panties.

Ben grinned at you as your breath came harder and dragged his thumb back down away from your clit towards the leg of your underwear. Still watching your reactions, he twisted his fingers up under the material, gently tracing them along the same path they’d just followed only now he could feel your wetness directly. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, leaning close to your ear, as he circled your entrance with a fingertip before pressing it into you, “of how I’d like to fuck you right now. It might take a little flexibility on your part though. I mean, nothing too much, just getting your legs up on my shoulders.” Curious, and more than a little distracted by the addition of a second finger inside you, you nodded, “Sounds fun.” “Knew you’d say that. Just tell me if it’s too uncomfortable,” “Will do.” You leaned forward as Ben moved back a little, taking his fingers with him, giving you enough room to drop your hand to his crotch and grasp his stiff length through his undies, “Just get on with it.” “Puddin’ was too nice a nickname for you. Sugar too.” he gasped as you dragged your palm along his length and back again. “What’s the matter, Tiger?” “Maybe I should call you Tiger, if you’re going to keep grabbing my cock like that,” You laughed and let him go, leaning back on your palm again, “Tigress? Whatever, doesn’t matter. Are you going to fuck me or not?” “No I just wanted to get my dick hard for no reason,” he said sarcastically, poking his tongue out at you as he pushed his underwear down. “You’re such a –” you broke off with a sharp gasp as Ben tugged your underwear aside and pressed into you without warning, “dork.” Ben chucked and leaned in to kiss you quickly before readjusting your position a little by pulling you closer to him so your arse was right against the edge of the bench. Slowly he rolled his hips against you, pulling back and thrusting forward again, finding a rhythm that worked. You leaned back on both palms as Ben grabbed you by the waist, the other resting on your knee to keep it pressed against his side. “This feel alright?” he asked as he gave another thrust, hitting a spot deep inside you. “Mmhmm,” you nodded, able to feel yourself growing wetter with each stroke of his cock. “What about this?” Ben shifted first one of your legs and then the other to his shoulders, encouraging you to bend them at the knee. His hands moved to your sides, fingertips digging into your back as he pressed you even closer. The effect was that you felt as if you were almost folded in half but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. There was an almost weightless feeling to it and any slight awkwardness you felt with your chest meeting your thighs was a small price to pay for just how good Ben felt once again moving inside you. You tightened your fingers against the benchtop, wishing there was something you could grab onto as your whole body rocked with each of his thrusts, the position allowing him to penetrate you deeply, continuously brushing against a number of spots that sent electric spikes of pleasure through you. “Fuck,” was about all you could think to say. “That a good fuck?” Ben questioned, voice gruff with his exertions. “Yeah, yes, fuck, so good,” “So you like when I do this?” You let out a soft moan as he roughly fucked into you again, timing it just right. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he half laughed, turning his head to kiss your leg before leaning forward to catch your lips again. After that there wasn’t much room for talking. Ben, having assured himself that you were happy, speeded up his rhythm, clutching you tightly to keep your legs from slipping off his shoulders. His breathing became rougher, matching your own, as he drove into you, though he still kissed you as much as he could, panting against your lips, swallowing your moans and pushing whatever air he had into your lungs.

You could feel your orgasm bubbling up, like a pot of water on the verge of boiling, but knew Ben would reach his first, recognising his expression as the one he wore when he was trying to hold back from the edge. “Fu-ck you’re s-so tight,” he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as he leaned his forehead against yours, “gonna have to pull out soon,” You could feel him pulling away and tightened your calves on either side of his neck in an effort to stop him, needing just a little more to reach your own release. “Not helping,” he groaned, suddenly unable to hold off any longer, “Shit. Y/N.” You whined as he stilled to shoot his release over your walls. “Jesus,” he said a little breathlessly, as he pulled out, your underwear slipping back over you, and rubbed his neck absentmindedly, “Didn’t expect that to finish me off. Did you…?” You shook your head, letting your leg slip to be caught in the crook of Ben’s arm. “Well let’s fix that, shall we,” he said, already letting you go to bend forward, his face right between your thighs. You felt a puff of his hot breath against you as he hooked his index finger into the crotch of your knickers, pulling it aside, and then his tongue was on you, lapping up your arousal and coming to rest against your clit. He set up camp there, focusing all his attention on the small nub. You let yourself drop back so you were holding yourself up on one elbow, your other hand on the back of Ben’s head, tugging on his hair as he drew a series of moans from you. With a particularly firm suck, you felt your cunt pulse and something warm and wet ran from you, dripping over the edge of the bench onto the cupboard door. You had an idea what it was so it surprised you when Ben released your clit to lick between your lips, catching it with his tongue and spreading it along your slit. “We taste good together,” he mumbled, going in to trace the same path over again, greedily licking up the mixture. You swore under your breath, feeling yourself right on the edge of your orgasm, unspeakably turned on by Ben lapping up the load he’d just left in you. Sensing how close you were he dragged his tongue over your clit again, quickly sliding two fingers into you to help you along. You whined his name as he pushed you over the edge, continuing to pump his fingers into you as he again sucked at your clit, not stopping until he was sure it had worked. “Thank you,” you said as he straightened up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re such a dork,” he laughed as he kissed you again, tracing his tongue over yours. The man clearly wanted you lightheaded from lack of air. “Shut up,” you pushed yourself to sit up straight again, expecting Ben to step away and let you hop down from the bench. He didn’t though, instead absentmindedly toying with the leg of your underwear as his gaze fell to your lips. “Seriously?” Ben shrugged, “Eating you out made me hard again. And,” he quickly ran his fingers along the edge of the bench, collecting some of the mess you’d left there, “I think it’s only fair you should taste us too,” If he’s said it less earnestly you might have batted his hand away and laughed off the suggestion but something about his tone made you grab his wrist to pull his fingers towards your mouth. He hadn’t been wrong, the mix of you both did taste pretty good, though you’d already got a hint of it as he’d kissed you. “Good girl,” he breathed out, eyes heavy with lust, “think you’re up for more?” “Can we move elsewhere? The edge of the counter is digging into me.” “Okay,” Ben began tugging your underwear down and kicked off his own before pulling your shirt over your head, making you laugh. He Helped you stand and then immediately pushed you to the floor. For a moment you thought he was suggesting you give him a blowjob and were about to question him but half a second later he was following you down, laying down and pulling you on top. “I meant like the bed or the couch at least,” you said somewhere between incredulity and amusement. “Too far,” he grunted, bucking his hips to encourage you to mount him properly, “need you now.” You rolled your eyes as you sank down onto his dick, “Do I actually get to cum this time or…?” “Only if you move,” Ben growled as he grasped your hips and pulled you down onto him, making you cry out at the unexpectedly sudden sensation of being filled. He let you ride him for a bit, alternating between squeezing your thigh as he rubbed his thumb over your clit and cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples as he encouraged you to fuck yourself on his cock faster. You kept to the same steady pace though, intending to drag it out a little, make him wait. But it wasn’t long before he got fed up with the deliberately slow pace you’d cultivated. Without warning you found yourself on your back, Ben grasping your thighs as he kneeled over you, pulling your hips up a little so he could fuck you the way he wanted. Your voice shook as you moaned and writhed in his shadow, your own fingers dancing over your clit to keep building your orgasm. “Isn’t that better?” he said roughly, laughing a little as you nodded your agreement, “Making me wish I had cancelled our plans. Could stay in your pussy all day.” You whimpered and rubbed your clit harder. “C’mon Pumpkin, so close aren’t ya,” You squeezed your eyes shut, moaning when you finally tipped over the edge. But that didn’t stop Ben. He waited until your orgasm had subsided and then pushed your legs wide and up into the air so he could lay directly on top of you as he continued to pound you. Your voice shook as a moan was pulled from your throat and you squirmed beneath him, feeling yourself once again being drawn towards release. There was something about his weight pressing down on you, his breath against your ear. Something about how close he seemed, almost panting as his hips stuttered in and out of the rhythm he was desperately trying to hold on to. He mouthed at your neck as you tilted your head to accommodate him, reaching a hand down to squeeze his arse cheek. You were sore from every other way he’d fucked you, tired from the two orgasms he’d already wrung from you, and yet the thought of stopping him, of ending the incredible pleasure you felt at his hands, was the furthest thing from your mind. A scream caught in your throat as he seemed to press you even harder into the floor, your legs shaking in the air as he grit his teeth and grunted with each harsh drive into you. And then he came, gasping against your throat as he felt you cum too, finally releasing the scream you’d been holding onto until the noise turned to breaths so ragged they felt like sobs.

Ben kissed your throat and then your jaw as he came back to earth, still laying on you. “How was that?” he asked softly when you’d remained quiet for a while. You drew in a deep breath, “Pum-Pumpkin?” “What?” “You called me fucking Pumpkin of all things, while trying to get me off?” “So?” “Jesus Ben,” you half-heartedly swatted at his side, “you’re lucky I was so close that it didn’t matter otherwise I might have laughed and completely lost the orgasm.” Ben joined in your laughter, the sensation of his shaking body on top of yours slightly odd but mostly quite comforting. Until he shifted his hips without thinking and made you wince. “Sorry,” he said, pressing his lips to yours again as if to kiss away the discomfort before he gingerly pulled out of you and sat back on his knees, “But you did cum that time, right?” “I think you know I did,” you sighed, already able to see what was coming, as you let your legs drop to the floor. “So wait, how many times exactly?” You sighed and shook your head slightly. “Because if my maths is right, I think we got you to three times. Once on the bench and twice on the floor. One plus two is three, yes?” “Yes that’s how basic addition works Ben,” “And who was it again that got you to three orgasms? Was it,” he pointed a finger as his one chest, “Moi?” “Alright asshole, you’re very impressive and a somewhat decent shag,” “I think you could be a little more grateful considering that performance. Might have been my best ever moves,” You pushed Ben in the middle of the chest, exaggeratedly rolling your eyes but, truthfully you were inclined to agree that it had been his best performance yet, at least in your experience. “Here let me help you,” he chuckled as you tried to stand, almost falling over as your legs shook. Quickly, Ben pushed himself to his feet and then offered you a hand up too, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Thanks,” “I hope I haven’t made it too hard for you to walk. Wouldn’t want to throw off your bowling cos you were fucked so right.” “Jesus Christ,” you couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the time you had before you had to leave was spent tidying up the kitchen, cleaning up the evidence of the mornings activities in case your roommate got home before you, washing up and getting ready to go. Which is really when things started to go downhill. If you’d realised you might have told yourself to stay home, come up with a quick excuse to get out of it and just played video games with Ben for the rest of the day or something. But there was no way to know what was coming so you didn’t. You talked happily as you got into Ben’s car (which was already parked on the street), excited to see your friends and looking forward to the afternoon.

The double date itself was quite fun, although draining. There was always an element of playing pretend at these sorts of occasions. Not that you minded so much. It was either play up the romance of your relationship or have to explain what you were to everyone and a few hours of pretending Ben was your boyfriend was honestly much simpler. At least bowling was better than the cinema. The first time you’d gone on a double date to a movie you’d sat down beside Ben, the popcorn you were sharing balanced on the arm rest between you. Martin and Jill had raised their armrest and were virtually sitting on top of each other, hands entwined. Which would have been fine except Martin had leaned over and said, “you know these things move” and looked expectantly at you. Ben and you had shared a glance and then tried to say you were both fine with the space but they’d given you matching looks that said they thought you were being weird or prudish or judging their willingness to cuddle in public. So you’d relented and shifted the armrest so you could spend the next two hours sitting with Ben’s arm around your shoulders, both of you more tense about the situation than you ever would have been if you’d just been allowed to sit in your seats like normal. Things had improved a bit since then. Ben had told you that one night when you’d gone out to a bar together, Martin had pulled him aside as asked why he never kissed you properly. Ben had shrugged and said he didn’t like PDAs, that he didn’t want photos to spread or anything like that, especially since it was still so new, and Martin had accepted it. They began to see that your ways of being affectionate were quieter, stealing sips from each other’s drinks, a warm hand against a knee, dumb nicknames that made you both laugh. Even if Jill did sometimes still try to convince you that there was nothing wrong with snogging in the middle of a busy street. Nonetheless you never felt fully able to relax when it was just the four of you. Always conscious of how they saw you, always worried that they’d decide you weren’t being affectionate enough and would tell everyone else you were going through a rough patch which would lead to more scrutiny. While at the same time worrying that one of them would start asking how serious it was between you and Ben, were you thinking about the future? Could you see yourselves moving in together? Was he the one? And it took a lot of energy to constantly be alert about what you were saying, always careful to not accidentally give away the secret truth of the situation. Bowling was fun though and less pressure than other double dates you’d been on. You could get away with not holding hands or sitting on Ben’s lap since everyone was standing up frequently and it didn’t make sense to be on top of one another. You could share small pecks on the lips or else tight hugs to celebrate strikes. And Ben made sure to tease you for missed pins, just like he always had, with a few added silly nicknames. He called you his sweet little hotdog after a particularly bad gutter shot which had made you laugh so hard you choked on your drink, and made Jill give him a disapproving glance. He’d smoothed it over by letting her overhear him saying he loved you, whispering the platonically just for you.

By the time Jill had been declared the winner of the game, you were ready to head home and spend a night forwarding Ben weird videos and dumb memes. Ready to be allowed to just exist without needing to be romantically linked to anyone. But it wasn’t quite to be. Martin made the suggestion that all of you should head to McDonalds for dinner and before you knew it you were standing in line, waiting for the kid at the cash register to serve you. You leaned your head on Ben’s shoulder as you stared at the menu, and vaguely wondered how someone working in a fast food joint could be so bright and bubbly. Right up until Ben nudged you and asked what you wanted. “Um, can I get a quarter pounder and a frozen coke, thanks.” “And?” Ben supplied. “And what?” “Y/N I know you want dessert, get dessert.” “And an Oreo McFlurry,” you smiled and bumped Ben’s shoulder with yours as he laughed and finished paying. “You guy’s make a cute couple,” the girl who’d served you said, eyes following the path of Ben’s gaze to you, still smiling. She seemed to realise what she’d said, her ears turning red, but Ben thanked her and added, “I think I have to agree,” as he squeezed your hip, before moving away so Jill and Martin could order. You’d smiled at her too but it wasn’t quite genuine.

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to it, people assuming you and Ben were in fact a couple. You were. One or two weeks after you’d first agreed to try out being queerplatonic partners, most of your friends had put two and two together and worked out that something was going on between you. Of course they didn’t know you were aromantic and they probably didn’t have any idea what a QPR was so they’d really added two and two and got five but you weren’t about to correct them. As you’d said to Ben, it was too much too soon to do that. Maybe if the QPR thing worked out long term, maybe then you could tell them. And besides, they weren’t exactly wrong anyway. They’d originally assumed you and Ben were just hooking up after Martin had dropped in to pick up something he’d left at Ben’s and had seen you spread out on Ben’s couch with sex hair and a rather large hickey on your neck and Ben’s sweater hanging off your shoulder. He’d asked Ben who’d just shrugged in response and said it wasn’t a big deal. You estimated it took about a minute and a half to reach everyone else. The next time you’d gone out as a group you’d felt them all watching you and Ben closely, trying to determine if Martin with bullshitting them all or not. They’d all decided it was just sex though. Until you were clearly still together a month later and they decided it had to be serious since Ben had never successfully fucked a girl for that long without catching feelings. That was when they started referring to you as boyfriend and girlfriend. That was also when the comments about how cute you were or how they’d always known you’d get together had first started. The first few times you’d heard it, it felt weird but you figured that was just because it was you and Ben and you were still working out how to be partners without the romance. You’d been in relationships before though and didn’t have any major objections to anything they said so you found it fairly easy to deal with and mostly you didn’t notice it anymore.

Except now it was bothering you. Something about the girl’s comment had rubbed you the wrong way. Which made you feel bad because she was just a kid with a shitty minimum wage job who didn’t know you from Adam. She had no idea. She was just trying to say something nice to a couple of strangers. You supposed your dislike of the comment probably had something to do with spending all afternoon putting on the romantic act for the benefit of your friends. Maybe even something about the sex from earlier. Probably just exhaustion from everything, a shorter fuse. It could even just be PMS though you’d have to check how far off your next period was to be sure. Whatever the reason it felt…not wrong exactly just off. You stayed quiet during most of the meal, aware you weren’t being great company and aware that Ben had realised something was wrong since he kept glancing at you when the other two weren’t looking. “Y/N,” Jill’s voice cut through your thoughts, “Still with us?” “Yeah,” you said, pulling a smile onto your face, “sorry, just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep well last night,” That statement was met by high pitched oohing noises and Martin jokily reprimanding Ben for keeping you up. You forced yourself to laugh with them, “Not like that you pervs. Ben was filming a night scene yesterday so didn’t actually get to mine until what,” you looked to Ben for confirmation, “One-thirty was it?” “Something like that. I don’t know I fell asleep almost as soon as I put my head down.” “Me, not so much,” you shrugged, “It’s all just catching up with me now.” They accepted that excuse without question and didn’t aim too many more comments in your direction, letting you finish your food without having to keep your mind on their conversation. And pretty soon you were hugging them goodbye and promising you’d organise the next date as Martin told Ben to get you home to bed before you fell asleep in your ice cream.

Ben waited until you were safely back inside your apartment before he asked if you were okay. “We were meant to get milk,” you sighed, trying to push away the annoyingly persistent discomfort. “I’ll go out later and get some. Or we can get Sophie to bring some back when she comes home. Are you okay though?” Unsure if this was a situation where you’d want space, Ben hovered at a respectful distance until you stepped in close and leaned your head against his chest. As soon as he knew you wanted him there he wrapped his arms tightly around you, “What’s wrong?” “Not sure. Think it all just got a bit much.” “How do you mean?” You shrugged as much as his embrace would allow and talked against his chest as you tried your best to explain how flat you felt, “I think the girl who served us was just like the straw that broke the camel’s back, y’know.” “Did me agreeing with her make things worse?” You shook your head, “Don’t think so. I knew you meant it in a different way to her. Besides, the other two were in earshot so there wasn’t much else you could say.” “You know that what everyone else thinks of us doesn’t change anything about what we have, right, or what we mean to each other. It doesn’t change who you are.” You didn’t mean to say it but the words had escaped before you could stop them, “Wouldn’t it be easier if it did though.” “But then you wouldn’t be you and I love you, platonically.” You smiled and nodded as you stepped back a little, though Ben’s arms wouldn’t let you go too far, “I know, thank you. And I’m fine, just having a bit of an off afternoon.” “Are you sure? Is there anything else I can do to help?” “No, you’ve been perfect.” You leaned up to give him a quick kiss, “And I know I’m being stupid about it. I knew what I was signing up for when I decided not to come out to them. Besides, being back home with you has definitely made me feel better already.” “Do you want a cuppa or anything?” “Nah, think I might just go lie down and read for bit. Decompress a little, y’know.” “Okay. Give me a shout if you want anything, yeah,” he pressed a kiss to your temple and give you an extra squeeze before he let you go.

Slowly you headed to your bedroom, kneeling down at your bookshelf and running your fingers along the spines until you found the one you wanted. That particular book had seen better days. It’s spine was cracked, the image on the cover peeling away from the cardboard underneath. More than one page had begun to fray around the edges like an ancient treasure map in a cartoon, with little triangles missing and the corners permanently creased where they’d been dog eared a hundred times. But as you settled into the bed, Ben’s pillow still smelling faintly of his hair pomade, you began to feel more yourself. Ben was right. What other people thought of your relationship didn’t matter. He was still your Ben, the same Ben who’s hoodie had been living in your cupboard for years now because he spent so much time at yours anyway it just made sense to keep a spare there. The same Ben who’d bought you your favourite pair of sunglasses when you’d left your old ones at home by accident. The same Ben who’d gradually been reading his way through your entire bookshelf rather than buying his own paperbacks. You had too much history there and too much love for each other for anyone else’s opinions to matter. And your partnership was good. It made you happy so it had to be good.

The time passed quickly as you read so when you looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw that a couple of hours had passed, you were a little taken aback. Ben poked his head round the corner and then stepped through the doorway when he saw you looked better. “Nice to see you smiling again,” he said softly as he crawled up beside you. Without thinking you lifted your arm so he could snuggle against you, his head on your chest. “What’re you reading?” “First Test by Tamora Pierce. First book in her Protector of the Small series.” “What’s it about?” “A girl training to become a knight. Gran bought it for me as a kid while we were on a holiday at the seaside.” Ben glanced at the worn pages, “Do you reread it a lot?” “Yeah a bit. The main character, Kel, is like the only aromantic character I know of so she’s kinda important to me.” “The main character’s aro?” “I mean, not explicitly. It was published in ’99 and the terminology to describe aro experiences didn’t really start being used until like the late 2000s and even then only in certain communities online. But Tamora Pierce did answer some questions on her website and said that as she was writing the series Kel became less and less interested in romance and sex so even though she didn’t have the words for it back then, she would consider Kel aro and probably ace too. And I mean, rereading them I definitely feel an aro sort of reaction to a lot of the romance stuff, even when Kel does start kissing boys and all that.” Ben leaned back to better see your face, “Will you read to me?” You leaned down to kiss him, unhurriedly, softly, letting your lips linger on his. “Is that a yes?” “That was a sorry I’ve been weird this evening kiss actually.” “Don’t worry about it,” he said simply, snuggling back down, his head once again resting on your chest and his arm thrown over your waist. You adjusted your grip on the book and began to read from where you’d left off, one hand running absentmindedly through his hair, both of you sighing softly as you relaxed into each other.

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #idk i hope its okay #also if you have any more idea for potential future chapters about these two send them my way #i like having an aro character to come back to every now and again lmao

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half-bakedboy · 3 years

Text

a damn angel (read on ao3)

Pairing: Grace Ryder/Judd Ruder Rated: Gen Summary: “What’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?” Judd asked.

“A woman like me, huh? And what kind of woman would that be?”

“Beautiful,” he said immediately. “Obviously smart and kind if you’re beside a hospital bed for some man you don’t even know.”

“Oh, I know you, Judd. I know you better than you know yourself right now, apparently."

The first thing Judd noticed when he woke up was the fogginess in his eyesight and the faint layer of pain throughout his entire body. He was pretty sure he was in a hospital room, the blinding white walls causing the pounding in his head to increase, and the monitors beeping next to him echoed through his ears painfully loud.

“Make it stop,” he complained, wiping a hand over his face. A smaller, darker hand caught his and he held onto it because it felt nice. Whoever that hand belonged to must be really good at moisturizing.

That had his mind briefly wandering to his captain and TK. A memory flashed through his mind where he saw himself running out of a burning building with TK right in front of him and Captain Strand waiting outside the front door. Then he panicked at the resounding blast that shook the entire place, reaching his arm out to push at TK who was no longer in front of him.

He felt his chest rising and falling harshly, burning with overuse and stinging pain that could only be from broken ribs. Suddenly he was back in the hospital room, shouting deliriously as if he was still in the burning structure.

“TK, TK, where are you? TK?!”

“He’s okay, my love, he’s with Captain Strand in the waiting room. They’re all just waiting to hear that their fearless protector is okay,” the voice soothed. He felt the damp cloth against his forehead and the warm hand that still held his own tightly, the fear and dread inside of his disappearing little by little at the comfort.

“I don’t feel so good,” Judd muttered, leaning back against the too soft pillows behind his head. His mind was spinning almost as much as his eyesight and he pressed his lips together to keep back the acid he felt building in his throat.

“I got you some ice, Judd. Open your mouth, okay? It’ll help.”

The woman sounded vaguely familiar and at the back of Judd’s mind he recognized the way she was speaking to him but when he glanced in her direction, all coherent—or what he might have considered coherent at the time—thought sprung from his mind. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life was at his bedside and he wondered briefly if he had in fact died in the blast to be face to face with such a damn angel.

She laughed, bright and joyful, but with a husk that made Judd feel as though there were tears stuck somewhere behind those gorgeous eyes.

“I ain’t no angel and you sure as hell ain’t a dead man yet, Judd Ryder,” she muttered, stroking the hair off of his forehead. “Now, open your mouth and take some of these chips before you choke on your own damn tongue.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said easily. She laughed again, softer that time, and all Judd wanted to do was make the sadness in her eyes go away. “What’s a woman like you doing in a place like this?” he asked.

She laughed again, not even trying to hide the sound like most women might, and Judd took that as the ultimate win.

“A woman like me, huh? And what kind of woman would that be?”

“Beautiful,” he said immediately. “Obviously smart and kind if you’re beside a hospital bed for some man you don’t even know.”

“Oh, I know you, Judd. I know you better than you know yourself right now, apparently,” she commented, pulling away ever so slightly.

Before she could get too far, Judd grabbed her hand, his thumb running over the glowing diamond on her ring finger. He cursed before he could stop himself.

“Damn, I’m too late,” he whined. He probably would have been embarrassed by the sound if he wasn’t so annoyed by the fact the angel in front of him was married.

“Mmm, my husband would be very mad to know I let another man flirt with me,” she said, a teasing tone to her voice that told Judd the husband in question probably wouldn’t see him as a threat. He thought he could probably take him if it came down to it. She would be worth the fight. The angel laughed again and he figured he was talking out loud when he was meant to be thinking.

“I haven’t even started to flirt with you, Angel. How am I supposed to make you fall in love with me when I’m all cooped up in a hospital?” he asked. He tried to push himself up again, but the pain became too much and he slumped back down onto the bed in defeat.

“Grace,” the angel said and Judd perked up.

“What about it?” he asked, his eyes drooping more and more each moment he tried to keep himself awake. He didn’t want to lose the stunning sight in front of him and was concerned that his angel would be gone when he woke back up again.

“That’s my name.” She added, “Grace Ryder.”

He only barely recognized his own last name before sleep overtook him.

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

When his eyes opened again, the pain was lessened and the fogginess that had consumed his mind had all but disappeared. The one constant, as she always would be, was his beautiful wife sitting beside him. She had their fingers laced together and her eyes were closed, her breathing as steady as it could be telling Judd she was fast asleep.

He saw TK wander in out of the corner of his eye and held a finger from his free hand over his lips before gesturing down at her sleeping form. He snuck closer and leaned over the other side of the bed to give Judd a gentle hug, one that said ‘I’m glad you’re alive’.

“Hey,” he whispered, “I guess I owe you a thank you for saving my life.”

“No you don’t,” Judd responded easily. He would have done it a thousand times and he hoped TK knew that.

“Still, thanks,” TK said more sternly that time.

Judd just shook his head and focused on the woman beside him. He rubbed gently at her hair, careful to not mess up the tight curls he knew she worked so hard to keep up and stroked his thumb over the back of their intertwined hands softly. He wondered how long she had been there, waiting for him to wake up, for him to be okay. He knew he would have gone insane if he was in her position, had been once or twice, and never wanted to relive it.

“Did anyone tell you that you tried to hit on her when you first woke up?” TK asked with a smirk on his face.

“I did what now?”

TK laughed, “Yeah. You woke up and kept spouting some poetry about her being an angel and how you were going to make her fall in love with you. It must have been truly adorable.”

Judd swatted at him with a glare but the movement was too fierce—and TK unfortunately too quick—that it woke Grace up from her slumber. She glanced up at Judd and that bright, beautiful smile and gorgeous brown eyes had Judd’s heart skipping a beat. He didn’t think that feeling would ever get old.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she cooed, reaching up to cup his jaw in her palm. He leaned into the touch before turning enough to press his lips to the warm skin, placing a few chaste kisses there. He pulled her closer until their foreheads were touching and just breathed her in, grateful she was there whenever he needed her. “I missed you something awful, Judd.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, baby girl.”

He kissed her as delicately as he could, savoring the taste and feel of her lips against his. It might have only been a little while, but any length of time Judd went without kissing his wife was too long if you asked him. Neither of them made any moves to deepen the kiss, both too focused on what they could have lost to do anything more than remind each other of their love. They needed each other and would find each other in any lifetime, that much Judd was sure of.

“Now,” he began, “what was that about me not being a dead man yet? ”

#ryderdie #grudd #911 lone star #judd ryder #grace ryder #this is 1k of pure fluff #i love them #my writing

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

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road less travelled - m. tkachuk

I was throwing together a list of ideas yesterday, and this one stuck out to me for some reason. So I started writing, thankfully had a pretty free weekend, and finished today! It was a fun piece to right, I hope you all enjoy it! As always, I read all my tags, so reblogs are a writer’s best friend! You’re also more than welcome to come into my inbox and yell at me if that’s more your speed.

word count: 4.5k+

March 18 (thurs)

Elsie couldn’t believe she had gotten herself in this situation again. Every time she woke up in his bed she swore it was the last time, but one drunken mistake turned into another, which turned into a threepeat, and now she wasn’t so sure it had been a mistake in the first place. There was just something about Matthew Tkachuk, something so intoxicating that she was able to ignore the every fiber of her being that was screaming at her to stop this, stop things before it turned sour. Stop it before her brother found out.

It had been easy enough to keep things from Johnny when they first started hooking up; they’d meet at a crowded bar, somewhere where the cover of anonymity was all but guaranteed, or a late-night text, a few words by the other communicating everything they needed to know. He was lonely. And Elsie Gaudreau was the only one who could help. It had been easy enough to keep things from Johnny at the start, but then they started texting before 11 PM, and then they decided they were exclusive, and then, Matty decided that it was about time that they put a label on it. And suddenly it wasn’t so easy to keep their secret anymore.

The team knew that he was seeing someone, but much to everyone’s surprise, he had said precious little about their relationship. He called her Leigh in the locker room, or out with the boys — her grandmother’s middle name, one he felt toed the line as well as possible between complete fabrication and some semblance of the truth — and they knew the couple had been together for a few months, that she made him laugh, and that he was more into her than they had seen him act with anyone in recent memory. She didn’t come to events because she was shy, Matthew said, and he didn’t want to subject her to the kind of spotlight he knew she might be scrutinized under the moment they went public. He wasn’t lying when he said she’d been to games — Elsie usually made it to a few a month, usually on Johnny’s invitation — but left out the part where she wore the number 13 in the stands instead of 19, or where she caught a ride home with her brother after media availability instead of her boyfriend, the man she’d been sleeping with for the past five months.

“Leaving already?” Matty mumbled, slinging one arm over her waist as Elsie tried to sit up.

She twisted over, kissing him softly. His stubble tickled her cheek. “Got class, remember?” Of course he remembered. Class was the whole reason she was in Alberta; most of it, at least. She had done her undergrad in astrophysics at Wellesley in Massachusetts, and when the time had come for her to decide where to do her graduate studies, Johnny had been all too quick to offer up Calgary. “It’s a great program!” he had said. And it was, but Elsie also had her doubts that her brother knew much about astronomy beyond the ability to find the Great Dipper on a clear day. They had always been close, even when he went to go play in Dubuque when she was 13, but their time together had naturally been more than a little limited ever since he turned pro. So when the opportunity arose for them to be in the same city full-time for the first time in a decade, he was jumping at the prospect of being able to look after his younger sister again. And, especially after he offered to pay her tuition, she wasn’t about to say no. International fees didn’t come cheap.

Matty groaned, pawing at her hand as she got up from the bed, throwing the covers back over him. “Do you have to go?” he whined.

Elsie rolled her eyes. “It’s an 8 AM, and it’s,” she glanced at her watch, “already 7. I’d love to stay in bed with you, babe, but I’ve still got to eat and get dressed and grab all my stuff. Plus, it’s at least fifteen minutes to drive and find a place to park, so I’ve got to build that in too.”

“I still think it’s dumb that they make you pay to park at your own school. You’re already paying tuition, plus you TA that one course, so it’s not like you’re doing nothing for them,” he said.

“It’s dumb,” she agreed.

Matthew clicked his tongue. “It’s highway robbery, is what it is, Els.”

She laughed, bending over the bed to run a hand through his curls. She loved those curls. “Be that as it may, Matty dear, I’ve still got to get there on time. Experimental space physics waits for no man.”

He pouted. “Fine.”

Elsie shot him a sympathetic look. “I’ll try to swing by after my classes let out, how does that sound?”

“Can’t. Johnny and some of the guys are going to be over after morning skate, we’re going out to lunch then they’re coming back here. I’ll call you if they don’t stay too late?” he proposed, looking over at her.

She gave a tight smile. “Works for me.”

---

Matthew couldn’t believe he had managed to keep things from Johnny for as long as he had. As pretty much anyone could tell you, he was the world’s worst secret-keeper off the ice, and even more so when it came to his friends. And every time Johnny would lean over to him in the locker room, showing him a picture Elsie had posted on Instagram, or recount a story from the intro astronomy class she TA’d, he had to bite his lip and pretend like he hadn’t been the one to take the picture, or he hadn’t been the first to hear about the kid who didn’t believe you couldn’t see the Southern Cross from Alberta. As much as Matthew hated it, he knew that part of what made his relationship with Elsie so exhilarating was the illicit nature of the whole thing. Something about sneaking around with your best friend’s little sister made everything that much more exciting.

The first time they hooked up hadn’t been a mistake, but it hadn’t been planned in any possible sense of the word. Elsie had moved to Calgary in August, a few weeks before everyone had stated trickling back into Alberta for training camp. Matthew was pretty sure it was mostly Johnny not wanting her to only be surrounded by “space nerds” — his words, not Matty’s, because while he had endless admiration for his sister’s dedication and academic skill, he understood approximateky 0.2% of what she was studying — all day, so by late September or so, she had established herself as a core member of the Flames’ “going-out” group. Which led to one particular night at a bar in October, with Johnny having already headed home thanks to an early breakfast with his fiancée and most of the rest of the group leaving around midnight. And it was a Friday, so Elsie had let herself have a few more drinks than usual; the team didn’t have practice until noon, so Matthew let himself shrug off any worry of a hangover. And Matty and Elsie already knew each other, so they got to talking, then they got to drinking, then they got to kissing. And then Elsie cancelled her Uber to get into Matthew’s, and before she knew it they were stumbling through his doorway, her fingers tangled in his curls and her legs wrapped around his waist as he walked her back to his bedroom.

There were a few people who knew the truth, and only a few people. Matthew had Brady and his mom. His logic being, as soon as Brady knew he was even vaguely interested in someone, he never took no for an answer and would have annoyed her name out of him regardless of whether or not he was being particularly forthcoming with any personal information. His mom because if he needed any advice, if he needed someone to turn to that wasn’t the incredibly vague commentary he gave the boys in the locker room, he wanted to have someone there who wouldn’t judge him and would have his best interests at heart. Okay, scratch that. Chantal definitely judged him, lifting her eyebrows over FaceTime as he called to break the news. She knew Elsie from the one trip with Johnny she’d made out to St. Louis and the times the Tkachuks had travelled up to Canada to visit the boys, and as much as she told Matthew that keeping it a secret was just about the worst thing he could do to his friend, she couldn’t say she was exactly surprised he had fallen for Elsie.

Elsie had Ines, her best friend from college. It was easier with her, much more straightforward with a lot fewer of the conflicts of interest she felt she got with talking with anyone in the “hockey world.” Ines knew hockey, she obviously had met Johnny and some of the other boys before. Wellesley was only a twenty-five minute drive away from the Boston city center, so the one time a year the Bruins played Calgary at home she’d go with Elsie. But Ines was compassionate, objective, and one of the smartest people Elsie had ever met in her life. She didn’t have any stake in the matter that wasn’t named Elsie Gaudreau, and she wasn’t about to mince her words because she was afraid of what Matty — or Johnny for that matter — would think. So there were people who knew, but the list was very short and, at least for the time being, they wanted to keep it that way.

For anyone on the outside looking in, who didn’t know them as well, they might have said that it was a long time coming. “It” being Matthew and Elsie’s relationship. And, if she was being honest, Elsie might have agreed. She knew Matty since he joined the team; he and her brother were thick as thieves from the beginning, and he’d visited them on the East Coast pretty much every summer since his rookie year. Visited Johnny. Not her. Johnny had made it crystal-clear from the beginning that under no circumstances was their relationship ever allowed to proceed beyond friendly.

And it didn’t. For four years, almost, it didn’t. Sure, Elsie may have carried a torch for him from the moment they were introduced, but she was far too concerned about Matty’s physical and mental well-being to pursue anything. Even if, once or twice, she could have sworn that he felt something too. But then she moved to Calgary for grad school, and Johnny started bringing her out with the boys, and she finally got to see him in his element, really in his element. She got to see Alternate Captain Matthew Tkachuk, the one who’d go to the ends of the earth for his team, who would score goals and drop gloves and do whatever needed to be done whenever it needed to be done. And it didn’t hurt that Matty looked hot as fuck whenever he got into fights, his curls flying as he stuffed his helmet under an arm, skating over to the penalty box. It only hurt that she had let herself fall for him.

March 22 (mon)

Johnny was over at Matthew’s apartment; he had come over under a pretense of going over some tape from their last road trip, but it had quickly devolved into a very heated game of Super Smash Bros before the pair took a break for dinner. “Dude, your laundry’s in the way,” Johnny said as he made his way to the bathroom, Matthew staring at the half-cooked pot of pasta on his stove.

“It’s clean, you can just dump it in my room,” he called down the hall. He didn’t hear the tell-tale click of the bathroom door, so he looked down the hallway, only to be greeted by a site he hoped he’d never have to see.

A conspiratorial grin on his face, Johnny held a black, lacy pair of panties between two fingers. His sister’s panties. The half-second it took for Matthew to reach, jumping forward and grabbing them out of his hands, unfortunately wasn’t enough. He held them behind his back, almost as if he was hoping that if Johnny couldn’t see them, they weren’t really there.

“Leigh’s?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

Matthew rubbed his temples with the hand that wasn’t holding the panties. “Yeah. Just...Pretend you never saw those, okay?”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Who would I tell? The boys? They wouldn’t care. You? You already know. Elsie?” Matthew froze. “She’d just slap me and get mad at invading your privacy.”

“And you are,” Matthew mumbles, stuffing the panties into his back pocket.

Johnny’s brow furrowed; he leaned up against the doorframe. “Seriously, though, Chucky. What’s going on with you and this girl? You know everyone respects your decision to keep things quiet and private, but I’m your best friend on the team.” The look on his face betrayed the hurt he felt inside. “I would have thought you’d say something, to me at least.”

Matthew let out a deep breath. How was he going to talk his way out of this one? “I know, and I feel bad that it seems like I’ve been keeping things from you.” But he was keeping things. Very important things. “I think with Leigh and I, we just want to take things slow, make sure what we have is real. And I think it is,” he said, hazarding a glance at his friend. “I don’t know if it’s love, yet, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about a girl before. But we both agree that we need to know before we open it up to the opinions of the rest of the world, before she gets shoved into the public eye. And she understands what that’s like better than most, but it’s still not fair.”

Johnny’s ears perked. “Better than most?” Matthew froze. “What is she, like an Instagram model or something?”

He smirked, pushing him with one hand. “No, she’s not.”

Johnny realized quickly that he wasn’t going to be getting any more information out of Matthew anytime soon, so much to his chagrin, he dropped it. Johnny left Matthew’s apartment that night with a weird taste in his mouth, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. And he didn’t like that.

April 3 (sat)

Everyone was at Gio’s house, one of his quarterly team barbecues that had quickly become one of Matthew’s favorite things as soon as he joined the team. By “everyone,” that meant the players and their families, kids, partners, parents if they were in town. Johnny hadn’t invited Elsie — he assumed she’d be getting ready for finals, which was true, but Matthew knew she could have spared an afternoon — and Matthew couldn’t think of a way to invite her himself without arousing suspicion, so she was back in her downtown apartment while the boys were busy grilling up an inhuman amount of meat for dinner.

After everyone ate and the dishwasher had been loaded, someone decided to light the fire pit, and the conversation turned to relationships. For once, Matty didn’t tune out.“It’s the little things, you know?” Gio said, tipping back his beer. “When I see Lauren in my jersey at the games, or when she’s fallen asleep on the couch waiting for us to get back from a road trip. Makes you realize that what really matters isn’t so much how many goals you score or how big a contract you have. It boils down to the quality of people in your life, and we’ve got some good ones.”

“It’s the same thing with Leigh and I,” Matthew said. His words caused everyone to listen. There were precious few times Matthew willingly volunteered information about his relationship, and as much as his teammates genuinely did respect their penchant for privacy, that didn’t mean they wanted any fewer details. “Sometimes when she stays over and doesn’t have anywhere to be the next day, I’ll walk out to the kitchen and she’ll just be dancing around the stove, making pancakes and singing along to a Fleetwood Mac song. Usually takes her a minute or two to notice me.”

The guys laughed, and Matty took a long pull of his beer. He wasn’t really risking anything by saying that. Plenty of people liked Fleetwood Mac. “And she’s got this little scar behind her right ear, got it from falling out of a tree as a kid. She always tries to cover it up, but I like it better when she lets it show.” Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was Matty’s frustration about not being able to say anything about the woman he was falling in love with finally coming to a head, that made him say something he maybe shouldn’t have.

He realized, as he hesitantly met Johnny’s eyes, and could see the gears in his head turning, that he definitely shouldn’t have said anything. Johnny was looking in between his beer and Matthew, then Matthew and his beer, then his hands and Matthew’s, which were tapping nervously on the arm of his deck chair. And then he started to put things together. The orange blossom soap at Matthew’s apartment — Elsie’s favorite scents were citrus. Fleetwood Mac was one of her favorite bands. Their maternal grandma’s middle name was Leigh. And the scar. He remembered the day she got it, falling off an oak tree in their backyard in New Jersey, running into the house to get their mom and then in the car to the emergency room with a six-year-old Elsie who needed four stitches from the accident. And with an extremely uncomfortable feeling, he realized that that more likely than not, that meant the pair of panties he had picked up that one afternoon in Matthew’s apartment had been hers. He wanted to throw up.

Matthew was sweating as Johnny finally looked him in the eyes, realizing that the secret he and Elsie had tried so hard to keep for so long wasn’t going to be a secret much longer. “Matthew,” he began, his voice dangerously low. Matthew winced. He couldn’t remember the last time Johnny had called him by his first name. “Her name’s not Leigh, is it.” He said it like a statement, because, well, it was. He knew the answer, he just needed to hear it from someone other than himself, that the one thing he had asked of his best friend had apparently proven too much.

Matthew shook his head slowly. “No.” Everyone else’s eyes flitted between the pair, Markstrom and Gio and Andersson and everyone else very clearly confused.

“Something going on here?” Gio asked carefully.

“Tell them what her name is, Matthew.” Matthew squeezed his eyes shut. If he didn’t see everyone’s reactions, everyone’s disappointed faces, maybe they wouldn’t happen.

“Elsie.”

“Elsie what?” he prompted.

“Elsie Gaudreau,” Matthew finished. You could have heard a pin drop, the backyard was so silent.

“Dude, you’re dating his sister?” Noah asked.

Matthew nodded, one hand still tightly gripping his bottle.

“How long?” Johnny asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Just under six months,” Matthew admitted.

He sucked a breath in. “You’ve been dating my sister for six fucking months and nobody ever thought to maybe, I don’t know, tell me?”

“It didn’t start as dating, we were just—”

Johnny cut him off. “I can see where that’s going, and I don’t want to fucking hear it, Matthew. This was the one thing I asked you to not do. You’re a fucking All-Star NHL player, Matt. You could have any girl you wanted, you could wheel half of Calgary and I wouldn’t care as long as everyone was into it. But my little sister? The one person I told you years ago was off-limits? You had to fall for Elsie?”

“I—” Matthew stammered as he set his drink down. “I didn’t expect anything to happen. Neither of us did. But then it did, and I fell for her, and for some ungodly reason she’s decided to stay with me, and I don’t know, Johnny,” he finished weakly. “I felt terrible about keeping it from you, and for what it’s worth, Elsie does too. I feel awful about how you found out, you deserved better than this. But I won’t apologize for my feelings.”

Johnny scoffed, standing up and grabbing his keys. “She deserves better.”

April 4 (sun)

The first thing Matthew did the next day was go over to Elsie’s house. He had already called her the night before to tell her what happened; even if he didn’t, she had the numbers of half the guys on the team and more than one had texted her to check in after seeing how Johnny left things. When he opened the door, Elsie wasn’t doing well, to put it mildly. She was sitting on her couch, wrapped up in a blanket with a barely-touched mug of tea on the coffee table in front of her. She gave him a weak smile as he walked over. “Hey.”

He bent down, kissing the top of her head. “Hey, Els. How are you doing?”

“Not great.” At least she didn’t try to hide, not like it would have been any use with Matthew. He could read her almost as well as her own parents could. “I tried to call him last night and this morning, sent a few texts, just trying to explain. Asking to talk. But he hasn’t responded to anything, I called my mom and she said she hasn’t heard anything either.”

Matthew sat on the couch beside her. “He hasn’t talked to Gio either.”

She rested her head on his shoulder; his fingers carded through the soft hair at the base of her neck. “I feel like it’s my fault,” Elsie said despondently. Coming in between her brother and one of his best friends was the last thing she would have wanted, and she was starting to feel like everything was falling apart because of her. “It never would have happened if I wasn’t there,” she mumbled into Matty’s shoulder.

Matthew immediately shook his head. “No, no, don’t say things like that, babe. It’s not your fault, don’t put all the blame on you. Everyone dropped the ball on this one, and you shouldn’t have to take responsibility for how your brother decided to react.”

They were jolted out of their relative peace by a frantic knocking on the door. Elsie furrowed her brow. “I’m not expecting anyone?” she questioned as she threw the blanket off of her lap, She opened the door to see Johnny, staring bashfully down at his hands, an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Elsie raised her eyebrows. “You should be.” After a moment, she stood aside to let him in the door.

He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding Matthew’s eyes. “I talked to Mom, she kind of chewed me out about the whole thing. Not talking to you when you called or texted, the way I kind of blew up at you yesterday,” he nodded at Matthew, “but mostly the leaving. Neither of you deserved that. You deserved to have a chance to sit down, explain yourselves, and have an adult conversation.” A flash of regret shot through his eyes, which steeled again as soon as he saw Matthew’s arms around Elsie, who had returned to the couch. “But that doesn’t mean I like it. I’m still pissed that you went behind my back, and that you two decided to do the one thing I asked you not to do, and how you blindsided me—”

“You’re not my dad, Johnny. You don’t get to decide how I live my life,” Elsie said sharply.

He screwed his eyes shut. “I know, but I love you and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, and—”

“No more ‘ands.’ I know you don’t like it, Johnny. You’ve made that much very clear,” Elsie said in frustration. “Pretty much everyone knows that if you could make a list of guys you wanted to date your little sister, Matthew Tkachuk would be in last place. But just think,” she paused, looking up at her brother. “Think about all the things you said to look for in a guy when I started getting old enough to date. Divorce who Matty is from your feelings about us being together. You always gave me three things. Someone who cares about me. Someone who respects me. And someone who’s honest.” Johnny nodded, his hands in his pockets. “Matty is all of that and more, Johnny. He treats me better than anyone I’ve ever been with, and I love him. And that’s what you’ve always wanted for me. Nothing more and nothing less.”

Johnny leaned up against the bookshelf. “I guess you’re right.”

Elsie cracked a tiny grin. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He groaned in response. “Don’t make me say it again, I’m not going to.” She shrugged. He looked between her and Matthew, sighing. “I overreacted, and I’m sorry about that. If you love him,” Elsie smiled, “and he cares about you,” Matthew frantically nodded, “then there’s really nothing more I could ask for. I think it just hurt that you two felt like you couldn’t come to me as soon as things progressed, as soon as you got together.”

“We were afraid you’d react like you did,” Elsie said, reaching over to grab Matty’s hand. “We never wanted to hurt you, and I might only be speaking for myself, but I think I was worried you’d try to come between us, or say something about the relationship, or…” She trailed off. “I don’t know. Sure, you shouldn’t have reacted that way, but you’re not the only one to blame. We shouldn’t have kept things from you, or from Mom and Dad for that matter.”

Johnny laughed. “Honestly? I’m pretty sure Mom called it from the beginning.” Elsie frowned. “What do you mean?” “You know when Matty came over to Jersey in the summer when you guys were about 20, and we all took that vacation on the beach?” She nodded. “There was one time when she saw you together, running into the ocean together. You were laughing as hard as I’ve ever seen you, Matthew was splashing water back at you, and you kept trying to tackle him into the waves. Mom, Dad, and I were back up on the beach. She just looked at you two, looked at me, and smiled.”

Matthew rubbed his thumb over the back of Elsie’s hand. “You think she knew?” he asked curiously.

Johnny nodded. “I think she knew even before you guys figured it out for yourselves.”

“How could she tell?” Elsie asked.

Johnny gave a soft smile, looking over towards the couple. “You’ve never been a good liar, Elsie. And you can’t hide love.”

#hockey imagines #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Matthew Tkachuk #matthew tkachuk writing #rat king

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imhereformr · 3 years

Note

Bish, prompt 48 for brella, pretty please💘

Sorry for the delay with the prompts. I've got a pile of them to do, but I got a tad sidetracked...

Anyways, bish, enjoy some sad Brandon and comforting Stella 💔♥️

48: I called you at 2am cause I need you.

Brandon gently lowered himself onto his bed, his fingers gripping at the edge of the mattress to hold him steady. He tried to regulate his breathing, but his breath continued to come in short, ragged gasps. It felt like his heart had dropped into his stomach; like it had displaced his supper, sending it back up his throat. He wanted to puke, wanted to shout and curse and cry, but nothing came up. Somehow, he found himself curled up on his bed with his temple resting against the cool metal of his phone, right on top of his bundled standard issue blue Red Fountain blanket where he’d dropped the phone a few minutes earlier. At least he thought it was a few minutes.

His mother had called. He’d been so happy to hear from her until he heard the choked sobs that she was trying to stifle. His mother – a pinnacle of strength in every way, shape and form – barely managed an intelligible word between the gasps and whimpers. Something about one of his sisters, that much he’d caught. There’d been some shuffling, and then his father’s voice, strained but clear. Margie – his youngest sister – had been hit by a car. She’d been playing soccer in the front yard and had accidentally kicked her ball into the street. The old man behind the wheel hadn’t seen her coming; she had appeared from behind a parked car too close for him to stop in time.

Brandon had wanted to hop on the first flight home, but his parents had refused. It was the middle of finals, he needed to be at school. His father had insisted that Brandon had worked too hard to flunk his last finals and not graduate. Brandon didn’t care – he had a guaranteed job with Sky anyways – but he didn’t dare disobey his parents. They would call once the doctors have them an update. It was all they could do for now.

He hated it; hated that he was stuck here. Margie was his favourite of his four sisters, partially because she was too young to torture him like the others had, but mostly because she had that something that he loved. A joie de vivre he’d heard Stella refer to it as. Margie’s laugh was loud and honest; she was bubbly and kind. Of course, she was only seven and the world hadn’t tried to hurt her enough yet, but Brandon had a feeling she’d maintain her sunny disposition even when it did. Margie reminded him a bit of Stella if he was honest, right down to how stubborn she could be. How many times had he told her not to run into the street? Surely more times than he could count. Still, typical of her, she didn’t listen. And look where she was now.

And look where he was.

Curled up in bed, unable to help her.

Useless.

Terrified.

Brandon’s eyes snapped open. It was dark, and the clock on his bedside table read 1:37. He could hear Sky snoring softly on the other side of the room, blissfully unaware that Brandon’s world was falling apart. Somehow, Brandon had ended up in his pajamas. Somehow, he had ended up in his bed. In the back of his mind, Brandon knew he must have decided to try to get some sleep, but he had no memory of any of it. Everything after hanging up was a blur.

Half asleep and stumbling in the dark, he found his way to the common room. After tossing aside the gaming remotes that always seemed to be left on the couch, Brandon took a seat. He pushed aside the books that Riven left hanging on the coffee table and put his feet up. Luckily, he’d thought of grabbing his phone on the way out of his room. He dialed his mother, father and sisters’ phone numbers. Nobody answered. Nobody. How could nobody answer?! It was barely past supper time on Eraklyon! He desperately needed an update on Margie, even if it was just that nothing had changed – at least that meant she was still alive.

Brandon dropped the phone onto the coffee table and lowered his head into his hands, gasping in surprise when he felt the water on his palms. He hadn’t noticed that he was tearing up. The realisation broke the dam, and the tears that had refused to come earlier flowed freely and abundantly now. Brandon managed to stifle any whimpers that might wake the guys – though it wasn’t likely since Timmy and Sky slept like rocks and, knowing Riven, he and Musa were off somewhere breaking curfew for the sake of a quick fuck.

He hadn’t even realised he’d picked up the phone and dialed until he heard Stella’s sleepy voice in his ear. The wracking sobs gave way to a steady, gentle stream of tears. Even groggy with sleep, her voice always seemed to soothe him. Riven said Stella’s voice was annoying and high pitched, but Brandon disagreed; he found her voice bright and cheerful. He loved her voice.

“Brandon?” she repeated, worry seeping into her beautiful voice. “What’s going on?”

He had no idea where to start.

My sister’s hurt.

“Hello?”

I’m worried.

“Brandon?”

I’m scared.

“Is something wrong?”

He cracked. The sobs shook his body again, and he had to cover his mouth to stop from screaming and waking the whole school.

“Brandon?” He could hear her panic overwhelming her tone, taking her voice from sleepy and light to high and desperate. “Talk to me. Please.”

I need you.

He tried to speak but he couldn’t. The words died somewhere in his throat, suffocated by the sobs and whimpers. He hung up. There was no point in keeping Stella up to force her to sit in silence. She needed to sleep; she was in the midst of her final exams too.

A knock on the balcony door scared him out of his haze. He had no idea how long he’d sat on the couch staring at nothing. He’d been vaguely aware of the sound of someone trying to sneak through the halls; of water rushing through the pipes as someone took a mid-night shower; of the moans coming from one of the adjacent dorms; and the pounding on the wall accompanied by a voice demanding the lovers shut the fuck up. But the span of time in which that had happened, Brandon had no idea.

Brandon grabbed the nearest thing he could find that would serve as a weapon – the TV remote, not useful but it would have to do – and slowly approached the door. He slid back the curtain that covered the glass door and nearly dropped the remote when he saw who was on the other side.

Wasting no time, Brandon opened the door to let Stella in. She de-transformed before entering and Brandon was surprised to see that she was in her pajamas with her hair in a messy high bun. He’d seen Stella in her natural, not dolled up state on more occasions than he could count, but he’d never known her to leave the safety of her dorm without looking like a top model.

Amber eyes fixed their worried gaze on him as her hands found their way to his cheeks, brushing away the dried tears. Stella wrapped one of her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him into a hug. He could smell the residual perfume that lingered on her; the sweet scents of rose, jasmine, sandalwood and vanilla filled his senses, and he happily let them. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in the safety of her arms and not come out until he knew the world was as it should be.

Brandon’s arms wrapped around Stella’s small waist and pulled her as close as physically possible. There, in the warmth of her, he let himself break on purpose. Stella ran her hands through his hair while she let him cry, planting light kisses on his shoulder, neck and ear. They stayed like that for a few minutes until Brandon’s tears subsided and he reluctantly pulled himself away. Stella didn’t let him get too far, though, as she gripped his arm and gently dragged him over to the couch. She sat at the end, dragging him down with her and resting his head on her chest so that she could wrap her arms around his shoulders.

“What happened?” Stella asked quietly as she waited for Brandon to adjust into a laying position and return his head to her chest.

“Margie was in a car accident” he managed. His voice sounded weak and broken to his own ears, he couldn’t imagine how bad he sounded to Stella, but she didn’t seem to care. She held him tighter and kissed the top of his head without saying another word. Stella knew how much he loved his family, especially his youngest sister, and he knew she understood how devastating the news was to him.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the night. Stella continued to hold him until he fell into a restless sleep, and she fell asleep soon afterwards. Brandon’s phone woke them just before 6 when his mother called to inform that Margie was stable and would likely make a full recovery. Even then, Stella didn’t let go and Brandon didn’t ask her to. He would happily stay in her arms until the end of time. Or until one of them needed to pee.

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arvandus · 4 years

Text

Touch (pt 3)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song:

Dizzy by MISSIO

Part 1 Part 2

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 3 - Resistance

The next day, Dabi woke up feeling like a complete wreck of a person. A mockery of a human being, made of faulty parts stitched together haphazardly by a cruel universe. He was angry. Furious. Wasn’t your quirk supposed to last longer than this? His head pounded. The sun peeking through the crack in his curtains was an assault. Sweat covered his exposed pale flesh and yet he felt cold, clammy hands shaking. Dabi laid back on his bed to cocoon himself into his blankets when he realized…his back was still painless.

Your quirk was still working.

Dabi’s bleary eyes caught sight of his empty pill bottles on his nightstand, and realization dawned on him. Withdrawal.

It started sooner than he had hoped. He would have refilled his stock by now, but his usual seller went missing, most likely picked up by the feds. Dabi had already reached out to Giran to find a new source, but the old man hadn’t returned his text messages. So, Dabi spent some of his time the day before following connections within the villain network. His search came up with nothing; what he could find wasn’t strong enough to justify the expense or the sellers were obviously trying to swindle him with a diluted product. Long story short, he felt like shit and had no quick fix for it.

He wanted to crawl out of his skin. Fuck. Everything.

The memory of your cool touch on his skin came forefront to his aching head and he wondered if your quirk would be useful for his withdrawal symptoms…

Dabi pushed the thought out of his head. He wasn’t going to let that be an option. It was a slippery slope leading to a dependency that he simply couldn’t afford and definitely did not want. He was already on edge from yesterday’s conversation. His sympathetic thoughts, no matter how brief, made him see a man he didn’t recognize, and the thoughts plagued him ever since. He had never considered himself a soft guy. It wasn’t that he didn’t have feelings. Things could still bother him if he let them. But he had learned very early on that what he felt didn’t matter. Perhaps it was the gradual silencing of his conscience, small pieces of him chipped away like stone worn down over years of crashing waves. Only rarely, every once in a while, did the waters of his vengeance and bitter hatred recede enough to allow sunlight to touch his burnt heart. And in that moment, he saw you, a fragile boat approaching rocky, dangerous shores.

He frowned. As long as you did your job, what should it matter? You chose this life just like everyone else did. It wasn’t his responsibility to protect you from it.

As if his heavy thoughts summoned you, your familiar knock rang through his door. He cursed under his breath. During his misery, Dabi had forgotten that you were going to visit him this morning. He had planned to be gone before you came looking for him, a silent show of defiance to your mothering. But instead he here was, stuck, feeling the shittiest he felt in a long time. Maybe if he just ignored you…

You knocked on the door again, your pounding louder, incessant. You were so fucking stubborn. He glowered at the wooden barrier angrily, the intolerant noise sending a ringing like a tuning fork into the depths of his brain. He contemplated setting the door on fire just to make a point. He held his restraint by hair, only vaguely aware that doing so would make him feel even worse, if such a thing was even possible. Plus, you were the only person here with a lick of sense for medical care – he was ninety percent positive you had some sort of medical background.

“What?” he growled as he sat up begrudgingly, unwilling to let you see him so weak. Nausea permeated him from his sudden motion.

On the other side of the door, you stared at the wood in confusion. The sound of Dabi’s voice shocked you – low, scratchy, slurred… menacing.

You almost wanted to concede to the unspoken request, but your determination to treat him held tight to your will. “It’s me.” You replied, hoping your voice didn’t sound as small as it felt.

A pregnant pause greeted you before he finally spoke. “Come in.” It sounded like an order. Or was it a surrender? Could it even be both? How did this man always seem to have two versions of himself running simultaneously?

You came into the room and closed the door behind you with a quiet ‘click.’ You were met with a dark stuffiness, the air unusually warm and infused with the stink of sweat. The curtains were drawn closed, light straining to seep out along the edges of the fabric. A thin slit of light stretched across Dabi’s bed where he sat, his back facing you. He looked like a fallen angel, a broken soul. His shoulders were hunched, drawn tight like a bow string, struggling not to fold in on himself and break.

His bravado was gone, his casual presence muted in the deafening silence. He wasn’t even trying to pretend this time. His distress was palpable. You felt shame being here, your presence intrusive. You weren’t supposed to see him like this. So why did he let you in?

A mild panic filled you. Did he hurt himself again since you last saw him? Or was this your fault? Did your quirk wear off already?

“What’s wrong?” you asked. He didn’t respond. You stepped forward cautiously. “Dabi…?”

Your voice grated on his conscience – words of concern, a tone meant to soothe. He didn’t want your compassion. He wanted you to be cold and indifferent, a mechanic repairing a broken part. Or maybe even have you be as crazy as the others, waxing poetic about bloodlust and freedom. That was a language he understood, that he could navigate with ease. Not this benevolence. Not this normalcy. Why were you so different?

“You’re annoying.” He growled just loud enough for you to hear.

You halted your approach and your back stiffened. “What?”

“Stop acting like you fucking care.” The words spilled out of his mouth without a concern as to their damage. He knew you cared, even if it was on a basic level, which was why he desperately, accusatorily denied it.

Everything bothered him. His head. His body. The stink of this room… you seeing him like this. Why did that bother him?

You pressed your lips together, your jaw taut. The tension in the room became as palpable as the stifling air. What could you possibly say? That you did care? Well, did you? You cared enough to be here, at least. You had a responsibility to treat him, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said he hadn’t been on your mind more than usual the past couple of days. Of course, he’d never know that…. But were you friends by any stretch of the definition? No. Definitely not. So, if he wanted to be a jerk and suffer with his pride, then you’d let him.

“If you want me to leave, just say so.” You replied coolly. “I’m just here to do my job.”

Your answer satisfied him, cold and to the point, a counterbalance to your overwhelmingly gentle nature. It provided him the emotional distance he needed, a cloak he donned willingly to shelter himself from your prying eyes. And through his mental fog, he realized in mild amusement that it was the second time you called his bluff, grinding in your heels to deflect his verbal strikes. You weren’t easily bullied; at least, not as easily as he’d originally thought.

“Whatever.” He grumbled. “Let’s just get this over with, I got shit to do.”

You clenched and unclenched your hands around your bag. You were grateful Dabi caved, your conscience breathing a sigh of relief. You’d make it quick, to address what you needed to and leave him to sort himself out in solitude, like you knew he wanted. You began to approach him, quiet steady steps around his bed so you could get a closer look at him. If he was going to let you treat him, you might as well try to make the most of your limited time and see if you could figure out what was wrong.

As soon as you could see his face, you realized he was holding something in his hand. An empty pill bottle. His eyes stared at it like it held the answers to the universe while also cursing its existence.

Suddenly, everything clicked. The agitation. The pain. The misplaced anger… Of course.

You closed the distance between you until you were standing in front of him. Without saying anything, you quietly took the bottle from his hand, which, surprisingly, he let you. You read the name and the dosage. It was a strong one.

“Dabi,” you said quietly, hoping you didn’t sound patronizing, “How long has it been since you’ve had your medication?”

There it was. That kindness again. You brought it forth so effortlessly, as if he didn’t just insult you a moment ago. Somewhere, behind his defenses, the itch of guilt settled itself into his mind like an unwelcome guest.

He was quiet for a moment as he stared at the bottle in your hand, his eyes either unable or unwilling to meet yours. “Two days.” He replied, his voice scratchy.

You quickly did the math in your head. He had mentioned that his pain meds ran out when he first asked for your help, but you had thought nothing of it at the time, assuming he had ways of fixing his problem. You should have known. You should have checked with him. Drug withdrawal was no joke.

��When are you getting more?” you asked.

“Not sure, doll. My supplier has gone AWOL and I haven’t found a backup.” He put his head between his hands and rubbed at his temples. You watched him with quiet concern. At first you wanted to use your quirk to try to help him, your hand starting to reach out to his wild raven hair instinctually. You faltered. Would your quirk even work with this? This wasn’t a cut or a burn or a broken rib… this was a chemical imbalance in his brain. What if you hurt him or messed him up somehow? Slowly you lowered your hand. He needed his drugs.

“How many of these did you take a day?” you asked as you looked at the bottle again.

He answered. Your eyes bulged slightly. How was this man not stumbling around when you first met him? He must have built up a tolerance over years of use. Besides, quirkology affected everyone’s body a little differently. Still, it definitely explained his bored expression and overall body language – this guy was constantly high.

“Don’t look so surprised, doll.” He stared up at you with shining bloodshot eyes. His forehead was beaded in sweat, his skin so ghostly pale that only the rise and fall of his shallow chest indicated he was a breathing, living human.

You watched him, taking in his current state. If he did finally get a hold of new meds on his own, would he be able to show restraint? Logically, you knew that he was experienced with this – it obviously wasn’t his first rodeo. But still, a part of you couldn’t help but worry.

“You could really hurt yourself with these.” You replied softly.

“I know my limits.” He stated firmly, annoyance starting to seep in.

“That’s what everyone says, until they don’t.”

His brow furrowed, dark eyebrows pulled together like closing gates. “Look, doll. If you’re gonna lecture me, then you really can leave. I don’t need your help with this. I got by just fine before you came along.”

You wanted to snap back at him, to defend what seemed common sense to you, but you held back. Poking the bear would help no one.

You kneeled down next to him and opened your bag, rummaging through your things. “I’m not trying to lecture you. I’m trying to help you.” You found what you were looking for and pulled it out. Nervousness filled you – you hoped he didn’t ask too many questions.

Dabi eyed the bottle of medication in your hand in hunger.

“It’s not as strong as what you’re used to,” you explained, “but it will take the edge off.”

“What kind of doctor are you, aiding a drug addict?” he teased.

A pang of guilt shot through you, but you steeled yourself against it. “If you’re going to be taking pain meds, then I’d rather have it be something reliable and safe that I can monitor instead of something you find on the street through dubious means.”

“Oh yeah? Like all of your little supplies don’t come from shady sources. You can’t exactly get this stuff from anywhere. Those are prescription only.” Dabi nodded at the bottle clutched so tightly in your hand, that he couldn’t see the label on it. He couldn’t help but wonder… was it your name on that white sticker? Or someone else’s? What other items did you have in that bag of yours?

You lifted your chin pridefully. “I have an inside source. Trust me, the stuff I get is the real deal. And that’s all you need to know about that.”

Dabi grinned as you gave him two of the pills from the bottle. “Well, look at you, doll. What a criminal. You could get in serious trouble for this, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I think we’re well past that by now…” you replied with a grin, which earned you a chuckle.

Dabi popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry. Your smile faded slightly as you felt the urge to say one more important thing to him.

You stared at his hands in front of you, long fingers intertwined together and suspended in the air as his elbows rested on his knees. “Look, Dabi…” you started. Your eyes traced the metal rings holding his skin together. “I can’t imagine the kind of pain you’re constantly in. I understand why you take drugs. I think anyone would. That’s why I’m helping you. Not having pain meds isn’t really an option for you.”

“So, does that mean you’re gonna let me have that bottle?” his eyes stared at the bottle still clutched in your hand.

You held the bottle to your chest protectively, a part of you afraid he’d try to snatch it from you. Withdrawal made people do desperate things. He raised an amused eyebrow at your defensive action, a small smirk upturning the corner of his mouth.

Your body felt warm and you broke eye contact. “Not yet.” You replied. “I want to make sure you’re okay with it. It’s different from what you were taking before. It might feel weaker than what you were taking or might have different side effects for you. I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” Dabi pried, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as his head tilted.

You put the pills back into your bag as you looked away from him. “I have a medical background, so I know a lot more than you might think.”

Dabi grinned, despite his headache, the skin pulling tight enough along his rings to send an ache of pain along his jaw. He was right. Not that it was that hard to figure out, but he liked that you answered him honestly.

“You don’t trust me, doll?” Dabi’s teasing tone made you look up at him to find his fiery eyes piercing yours. That familiar spark of life, dangerous and wild, was starting to return to his drawn features. Oddly enough, you found it comforting even if it did send your pulse racing like a scared rabbit.

Meanwhile, he was amused at your caution. Little did you know how many drugs he’d tried over the years, how many times he came close to ‘overdoing it,’ as he learned what his body could and couldn’t handle. Sure, he needed his drugs to keep the pain at bay… but he also needed to carry out his mission. He refused to let himself devolve into a zombie when he still had unfinished business.

You rolled your eyes at him. “I just want to make sure you transition to this new pain medication okay. Switching drugs can be a messy business. If I decided to trust you and something went wrong, well…” your words faltered, unable to finish your statement. It almost surprised you how much the thought of something horrible happening to Dabi bothered you… especially if it was caused by your own negligence.

“Aw, doll, you’re making me blush.” Dabi grinned. “You better not try to take advantage of me. I’m under the influence.”

You raised an amused eyebrow at him. “Really? Who’s taking advantage of who here? Someone just got free drugs.”

“Trust me, sweetheart – you’ll know when I’m taking advantage of you.”

A proper comeback couldn’t find its way to your lips while your mind was so distracted by suggestive thoughts.

He continued on unfazed, as if his previous words meant nothing to him. “So, how are we gonna do this then?”

You cleared your throat and wet your parched lips with your tongue. Dabi watched the gesture intently, but you didn’t notice as you avoided eye contact. “We’ll start with what I gave you. When it wears off and you feel like you need more, you come find me. If you have any issues or feel anything weird, you come find me. I don’t care what time it is. If it’s 3 in the morning, you come find me.”

A devilish grin spread across Dabi’s features as his head got a rather detailed less-than-pure mental picture of a late-night visit. He knew that wasn’t what you meant, but he enjoyed where his imagination took him, nonetheless. He eyed you for the first time since you came into his room, allowing himself to take in your appearance from head to toe, his eyes lingering where he wanted them to, without a care as to if you noticed. He might not be willing to touch, but he was definitely willing to look. Life was too short to not appreciate the finer things in life, and at this moment the finer thing was you.

You shifted nervously under his penetrating gaze, your pulse quickening under your skin like a raging river. You weren’t quite sure what he was thinking, but the light of his eyes made you feel exposed. You resisted the urge to wrap your arms around yourself protectively, your self-consciousness fighting to get the better of you.

Your forced yourself to continue, looking away abashedly. “I’m still coming to take care of your bandages, so I’ll be checking up on you again tonight. Do we have a deal?”

Dabi was quiet for a moment as he stared at your determined face. Finally, he smiled. “Yeah, doll. We got a deal.”

“Good. Now let me check those bandages.”

He stood up and you instinctively took a step back as his presence filled yours within the tight space between his bed and the wall where you stood. The scent of him filled your nose and you resisted the urge to inhale. You liked it and you couldn’t explain why. He turned his back to you and removed his sweat-soaked shirt. You waited to see if he would move to the more open space of his room, but he didn’t, and you stood awkwardly before deciding to just change his bandages where he was. Maybe he had a headache and moving was a little too much for him. It’d take about thirty minutes for the pills you gave him to really get into his system and start working, and you’d be long gone by then.

You changed his bandages quickly and efficiently as well as added a little boost with your quirk to make sure his back was pain-free until you returned to check on him later in the evening. He seemed to have enough on his plate to deal with without having your quirk wear off.

He was silently grateful you changed his bandages in silence as he waited for the pills you gave him to kick in. He was familiar with them, of course – they weren’t the best for what he needed, but you were right when you said they’d take the edge off. Still, he didn’t want to use up your supply. He didn’t know if that was your only bottle, and at the rate that he typically popped pills, you’d be out within a few days. He’d reach out to Giran again to get a hold of his own.

Once you were done, you packed up your items to leave. But before you did, you reached into your bag and pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to him.

“Hydrate. Please.” You said. “You took those pills and they might make you nauseous on an empty stomach. Besides, your body needs more than coffee, energy drinks, and alcohol.”

Dabi grinned. “Have you been watching me, doll? You’re not stalking me, are ya?”

“I watch all of my patients.” You replied with a critical eye. “Nice try, though.”

“You got any ramen in that bag?” Dabi teased as he opened the water bottle and took a swig.

“No, but I got a granola bar. You want it?” you replied casually. You pulled out said item and waved it in Dabi’s face.

Dabi’s lip turned up in disgust. “That shit’ll get stuck in my rings. And it’s disgusting.”

“It’s healthy.” You replied with an extra wave for added emphasis.

“You’re like a walking drug store.” Dabi commented as he watched you put the offending food away.

“I feel like a damn mom with all this stuff, but you’d be surprised how often it comes in handy.” You replied. “Alright, well I’m gonna go and let you rest. Do you have my number?”

You said it so casually, that Dabi had to stare at you to process your words for a moment. He didn’t easily fluster, but he also didn’t ever have pretty girls offering their number to him, his scars always scaring them off. It was such a personal gesture and completely alien to him.

“What for?” he finally replied.

“In case you need me for anything. Like if the drugs wear off, or your bandage comes loose or something. We might not always be in the same place at the same time and I’d hate for you to not be able to reach me if something’s wrong.”

The tension in Dabi’s chest eased slightly. Of course, it had to do with his health. He noticed that about you – when it came to business, you cut straight to the chase.

He wanted your number. But as soon as he realized it wasn’t for health reasons, he immediately shot it down, his iron wall crashing down. “I’ll be fine.”

You stared at him and shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just trying to be efficient. If you change your mind, you can reach out to one of the others. I think you’re the only one who doesn’t have it.” You walked to the door and turned back to him. “Like I said, I’ll be back tonight, probably at around 9pm. You’d better be here, or you won’t get your pills.” Mischief danced in your eyes and Dabi realized you were teasing him. He grinned.

“You think you can manipulate me?” he challenged.

“We’ll see…” you replied casually and left his room.

After you were gone, he stood there for a moment staring at the water bottle in his hand before he realized he had a dumb fucking smile on his face. He threw the water bottle in his trashcan.

You were a goddamn pain in his ass. And he was a damn idiot, getting flustered over a pretty face being kind to him. What was this, fucking middle school? Like he’d never been around a girl before? You were here to treat him. As soon as his wounds were healed up and he got his own drugs, things would go back to normal.

It had to go back to normal.

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Part 4

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Taglist: @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia ia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0

#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi fanfic #bnha #mha #bnha imagine #soft dabi #fluff #slow burn #pining #long talks #intimacy #dabi is a todoroki #touya todoroki #dabi is touya

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (1/17)

Summary: "Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn't exist. Everything is a choice." At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him."

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn't.

Note: This has been sitting on my computer untouched for a while, along with the timeline I prepared for a multichapter fic. Will probs go back to it soon. Feedback is very much appreciated.

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Link to cross-postings: AO3

In dreams people only see faces they already know.

It was an interesting fact Levi had probably come across, lazily scrolling through his social media timelines or opening countless tabs after getting into some Wikipedia blackhole in between the long days of schools and the short nights asleep.

He spent a fair amount of time on the internet, reading up about whatever bullshit politics came up with, controversies and bathroom reader fun facts. During his first year of college, it had stuck to him for a time. Maybe because it just seemed too unrealistic, too unbelievable.

After all, ever since he had started college, he felt like he had been dreaming of more and more unfamiliar faces. It could have been attributed at least to the fact that he was exposed to more people in a crowded city than he had been in the small town he grew up in. As time went by, these faces he barely recognized though, had become the main actors in his dream.

The long haired boy with the elvish features. The man with the clean cut appearance and a glint of mischief in his eyes. The oriental girl with subtle European features. The cheeky girl with a beat up pair of glasses and unkempt hair.

They and many others had been regulars in his dreams and Levi had come up with names for them already, names he remembered muttering, names he screamed multiple times in his head. By the time he woke up to the four walls of his bedroom a few hours before his first class, they were vague memories, only as intelligible as his view of the world right after waking up.

Some mornings, he had found himself more exhausted than when he had slept. Some mornings, he found his throat sore from screaming. Some days, his eyes were swollen from crying.

He lived alone in a dormitory and he had wanted to infer that it had been homesickness that had made those nightmares possible. He had never really abhorred being alone though, in fact he liked the privacy that came with having his own room.

He quickly shot down that theory and did not think too much about it soon after. His daily life did not give him too much time to ponder such fleeting and abstract of a concept as dreams in between lessons and training.

The dreams never left him, some days they were more vivid than others. After a few years of navigating academics, trainings, and obligations, Levi had gotten used to brushing off that one tear he’d get as he woke up, taking a lozenge to soothe the sore throat or just leaving the lights off in his room to alleviate the pounding headache he would get some mornings.

Daily life and obligations never did allow him the time and space to ponder too much on those dreams. Levi chalked it up to stress and unexplained trauma, easily soothed by ten minutes scrolling through social media or hours reorganizing his room for the third time that week.

Financial and time constraints made it impossible as well to even consider consulting about it and Levi found himself compartmentalizing those dreams into those few hours of sleep he got at night and the one hour he allowed himself each day to adjust to the waking world.

The line blurred one night though when one of those names was nonchalantly mentioned among others.

"Hange Zoe..."

It was just one name in a list recited by their coach before they were all dismissed for the evening. Sandwiched between a few other names before and after it, it wasn't supposed to stand out like that. Oddly, it did.

As Levi rode his bike to his dormitory room after a tiring day of training, he found himself repeating that name again and again. He tried to make sense of the odd familiarity which came with a name he could have sworn he had never heard before.

A family friend? A childhood friend?

Levi entertained those possibilities. Having grown up in a small town, his family friends and childhood friends consisted of everyone in that tight knit community and he could have listed out all their names then and there. She wasn’t part of it.

To at least, satisfy his own curiosity, Levi had sent a message to his parents before going to sleep. Just in case he had met her before.

Levi woke up the next morning, his throat a little scratchier, his body a little more tired. The first thing he did was check his phone.

Hange Zoe wasn’t a family friend.

Levi put the covers over himself and closed his eyes. His head was pounding and his chest was heavy. He had only noticed a moment later that his eyes were wet, his breaths were coming out in heaves.

What did I dream about this time?

Levi needed the whole morning to recover.

A Tale of Two Slaves

Levi managed at least to drag himself out of bed for afternoon training. By then, others have already started warming up. Levi wondered if he would be able to carry his body through a warm up jog, given his state only a few hours ago.

In the end, getting the jog done became a matter of discipline more than anything else and he had finished well above everyone else.

He had always been faster, given his smaller build and he had the natural muscle and athletic skill to be versatile as well. That was what made him stand out as the best athlete in the track and field team. He never cared too much either way about the admiration many of his teammates held towards him.

The recurring nightmares and the aftermaths of these though had left Levi averse to human interaction. Ironically, as he moved away from his small town and into the bigger city, his world had gotten smaller. Levi found himself keeping his world only wide enough to win track and field events and pass classes.

No man could really ever be an island though, no matter how much they try. Levi soon found that out when he saw that aforementioned Hange Zoe on the side of the track, talking to one of their coaches.

“This is Hange Zoe.”

“You can call me Hange.”

Levi did not need that quick introduction his coach had just given him. Somehow, the name and the face just clicked inside him. He looked expectantly at his coach and back at Hange.

Hange held out her hand to him and smiled. “I heard you’re the best one in the team. Coach Greg spoke highly of you.”

Levi narrowed his eyes at her. “What's she doing here?”

“Didn’t I tell you last time? Some of the premed students wanted to do case studies on athletes here for their final thesis. If you could help them out?” The coach turned to Hange. “Levi here is one of our best jumpers. He holds a pretty good record for sprinting, hurdles and throwing events as well.”

“Your jogging form looks amazing! I’d love to see you in action.”

Levi was not prepared for the invasion of privacy that came a second after. Hange held both of his hands towards her and leaned closer towards him. Before Levi could even stop himself, he had pushed her away and ran, the screaming of his coach to come back had become mere muffled screams in the background.

The only reason Levi did drag himself to training was for the fact that it was still one of the few hobbies he found complete calm yet complete liberation in. Those few moments after launching himself up in the air, those magical few moments high up in the air with only the empty sky above him, Levi felt free.

As Levi powered through, he found within him a burst of energy, built up from an idle morning cooped up in his room.

He had done those same drills so many times before. The excitement he got from flying through the air and running easily took over whatever exhaustion and rattledness plagued him only a second ago. He let his body memory guide him through each drill, concentrating his consciousness on other things like the cool wind on his skin as he shot through the track and the purple sky that stretched above as he performed horizontal jumps.

If Levi had been any more aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed his teammates leaving the track one by one. Maybe, he would have noticed as he started moving to the hurdles that the purple sky was slowly turning into a dark blue and the scenery around him was becoming just a little more than shadows.

It was nothing new. Levi had stayed behind to work on other skills multiple times and his coach and teammates had just learned to leave the club room open. Levi would leave an extra thirty minutes to an hour later than his companions,

At that training though, with little incentive to break away from that small bubble he had built for himself, not a lot of things could have broken his concentration. Fifteen minutes into his hurdles exercises, the distraction came. Levi was raising one leg, positioning himself to jump a hurdle when he caught a shadow from his peripherals.

Someone had been watching him in the dark.

He was alone. Or he was supposed to be alone at least.

The combination of those realizations and the exhaustion that threatened to take over Levi only caused Levi to stumble on the hurdle in front of him and fall forward onto cold ground.

“Hey! You okay?”

It was that same voice from that same conversation Levi had walked away from just an hour ago. The voice was as loud and as annoying as it was an hour ago that even when his shadow was still a good few meters away, Levi remembered how it felt with her forehead once again pressed on his and her grip on his two hands.

Levi was frozen on the ground, his body still in shock at the sudden loss of control and the whiplash of what he had just imagined.

“That looked painful.” Her voice was softer than it was a second ago. Hange put her hand on his.

Levi pulled away instinctively, and winced as his palms protested the quick action. Levi looked at his palms. In the dim light, he could see three long gashes lined up in the middle. Blood was starting to come out as well.

Levi was exhausted. The impact and the aftermath of falling on the ground, front first and the friction burns that followed, only further drained what was left of his energy.

By the time Hange helped him up by the shoulders Levi was almost motionless, the small movements he made were carefully calculated for fear of aggravating the dull pain.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

A Tale of Two Slaves

“Sorry about a while ago… People say I’m just a little too intimidating but I just get really excited about these types of things. You had such a good running form. You jump so high. You get a really good height above the hurdles… “ Hange gave him a consoling look. “Except that last one.”

Hange was closer to him than what Levi would have preferred at first. Oddly, he had gotten used to it quickly enough, particularly because he had no other choice.

The gashes on his palms were bloody and painful. With little to no means to bandage them himself, he was left to rely on the only person there and as Levi soon found out, she had problems with maintaining a comfortable social distance from people.

And she never stopped talking.

“Are the bandages too tight?” Hange asked, in between other ramblings Levi had tuned out.

“‘No.” The only words Levi had said since they had arrived in the club room fifteen minutes ago.

“Okay, let’s move on to your knees.”

Levi had not surveyed the damage himself but he guessed it was probably worse than his palms from Hange’s concerned frown.

“You’re gonna need stitches for this. The clinic probably isn’t open so you might have to go to the hospital… We could call a taxi and---”

“You’re a pre-med student, can’t you do it yourself?”

Hange blushed. “You trust me to do it?”

"A trip to the hospital will just be a waste of time." Levi admitted.

Hange rummaged deeper into the first aid kit. "This is gonna be painful though."

Better than taking a trip to the hospital now. Levi braced himself for it and decided to distract himself from the discomfort of the whole ordeal.

“How does it feel? Flying in the sky like that?” Hange asked. At that point, Hange had started to talk more purposefully, as if she wanted to get a point across to him.

Levi guessed that it was all an attempt to distract him from the mini operation she was giving him. From his angle, Levi could not see the extent of the injuries, nor did he want to. The pain was bearable, although it was still much worse than what he would have considered a discomfort.

“I’ve always wanted to take a sport like that, maybe gymnastics, maybe figure skating or track and field? That’s the closest people can get to flying right?” Hange was asking too many questions but it was obvious she was not expecting answers.

Her words flowed as smoothly as the movement of the needle and thread he could see from his angle.

Something about the way she talked to him was comforting and eventually Levi had almost completely relaxed, the pain of needle to torn skin a distant memory. He lay back on the bench and closed his eyes, focusing not on her words but instead on the familiar warm tone as she spoke.

The sensation of needle to skin, the burning pain, the dizziness that followed. They were all too familiar. All accompanied by that familiar warm voice.

Maybe we should just live here together. Right Levi?

If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us.

Hange's voice tore into his daydream. “What do you mean? Are you running from something?"

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #fanfic

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watery-lane · 4 years

Text

Raven (Prologue)

Pairing: Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Summary: Ivar hears of a woman who is said to be able to tame ravens. Lost in his curiosity and thirst for power, the new king decides to choose her as his bride, with the hopes of getting closer to Odin.

Little does he know, it is not very wise to try and domesticate the dark feather creatures.

Warnings: Heavy angst

Words: 3K

A/N: This was supposed to be my entry for @dreamwritesimagines writing challenge “Not Today, Writer’s Block” with the prompts: “If I can’t be happy, I will be a Queen.” “Gods must have sent you as a gift to me.” and “You are nothing to me from now on.” back in October or so. It has been a while and it is even rude to post this as an entry for the challenge after all this time, but I had the complete series already drafted and I really loved writing it, so I am posting this as a completely non-related fict. I hope you enjoy one of the last ficts I wrote before taking my long hiatus.

There is a high cliff near the pier of Kattegat, a podium on Midgard, not tall enough to reach for the other branches of Yggdrasil but ideal for a pair of human eyes to watch over the coastal town. The thick dark green mantle of perennial trees guarding the crystal covered grass valley grants the visitor a discreet and intimate environment, while a lone stone resting mere feet away from the edge provides a place to sit and contemplate the seas. Your hair, painfully braided into a complex updo resembles the roots holding your universe in place. You bite your lower lip, eyes stinging ever so slightly, not because of the new hairstyle you had to wear from now on but because the idea of shutting your eyes close escaped from your mind. The vertigo you felt, the lightheaded sensation you used to take for granted was being torn away from you with each decision you took... or did not take.

Two dark figures fall from the grey sky next to you, deep croaks like vague greetings as the tempestuous birds land on a long branch right above your head. You smile solely with your lips, moving your hand full of fading claw scars out of the furs and into the little leather sachet hanging from your waist. At such sight, the two ravens fly closer.

“Eat slowly,” you playfully commanded, your feathered friends quickly picking the fresh berries you left by your side “nobody is here to steal your food.”

Your eyes return to the sea, a persistent reflex you developed since you could barely walk.

When you were little, you waited on this exact same cliff so you could be the first one seeing the boats sailing back home. Your father, a loyal and humble explorer, used to take you and your now deceased sister up there, apples and toys made with the most exotic woods hidden under his robe. He told you two to keep your eyes at the horizon, where the line between the sky and the sea seemed to melt and merge into one. You two were in charge of informing mother and the little ones of his return from every raid. He told you that if you were faster than him and reached home before he did, he would narrate his adventures like a tale before you went to sleep.

A few weeks after your sister passed away due to an outbreak of a ravaging plague, two ravens seemed to take her place at the cliff. You never knew whether they were there before you or not, but the newfound company seemed rather comforting while you mourned for the loss of your best friend and caretaker. They couldn’t talk, they didn’t show pity towards your broken self and their simple presence brought a certain warmth and protection that reminded you of her. Your new feathery friends would patiently sit on the nearest tree as you jumped around and collected berries for everybody while you waited for the boats to appear.

They didn’t use to get very close at first, their dark eyes observing attentively every gesture you made, a menacing shrill harming your ears when you made movements way too harsh for their liking. But one day you saw one of the ravens with their claw stuck in the cracks of an icy rock and you tried to melt down the ice with your own hands and furs. To this day you still had some of the scars from the attacks, their peaks and free claws digging into your flesh while you bit down and rescued the creature that kept you company when you needed it the most.

The new company and the fact that you used to spend more time in nature before you sister passed away —event that pushed you to take over the household responsibilities she left behind— made you find your peace in that hidden cliff, waiting for father surrounded by nature.

Soon you started to develop a routine away from your peaceful nook, where you would wake up before the rooster crowed. You would visit the farmers and fishermen instead of the town market and clean the house before the little ones woke up. In this way, you found the produces to be fresher and the words of the workers much kinder. Whenever you managed to cram your household duties before noon, you gave the rest of your midday to your mother, who worked as the healer of Kattegat. It wasn’t until you finished sorting out the herbs and cleaning up the pots when you would quietly remove yourself from the wooden hut and hide in the woods again.

You could spend hours out there, picking up flowers, berries and branches. Your skilled fingers would work on the collected wood with the help of a small knife as you snack mindlessly either waiting for the sun to go down or your father to come back. You waited for hours, days and weeks.

You waited until you saw the ships sailing back home.

But your father never did.

Your mother, with a broken heart and four offspring to take care of, had to move on quickly, passing down more and more responsibilities to your ten year old self. She remarried a few months after the disappearance of your father, feeding the viper tongued people in town, who spread the rumour of how your mother cursed her husband so she could get married to her lover.

That is why, as she braided your hair under the dim light of the fireplace early this morning, she lowered her lips to your ears with discretion after you expressed your concern about your imminent marriage and whispered:

“If you cannot be happy, at least be a queen.”

A wise advice coming from a woman who knew what was to live under the influence of the people. As a queen, her daughter would always be above sharp tongues and poisonous rumours and with a husband like Ivar, those pigs would never dare to raise their voices against her. You will be protected.

“If I cannot be happy, I will be a queen.” You whisper to yourself as the two birds placidly eat their berries, hugging yourself while you feel your stomach churn as if a worm was trying to make your tummy its new home. “If I cannot be happy, I will be a queen, if I cannot be happy, I will be a qu— “

“What are you whispering about?” You jump on your seat at the sound of a second voice right behind you. The ravens croaked, annoyed at the sudden intrusion. They let an angry squawk before flying back into the woods. “Talking to the ravens?” Ivar jokes as he approaches you with slow steps, tired from the ride uphill to your hidden spot.

You stare as he gets closer, wondering if it is the added height what makes him make your guts squirm with concern and reservation. You liked Ivar, all these months of courtship helped you grow fond of him little by little. Yet, as the wedding time approached slow but steadily, you couldn’t help but feel your legs shake with nervousness.

The callous hands of the King search for yours under your furs after he sits down next to you, chapped lips kissing your knuckles tenderly as he observes you contemplating the ocean.

“Spill your thoughts.” Ivar asks calmly, eyes never leaving your profile. His voice, with a slightly higher pitch than all his brothers makes him sound a little bit more childish, a little bit more demanding. However, he was the king after all. He could ask for whatever he wanted to and he would get it.

That is how he got you.

“Why me?” You responded with a shy voice, such question eating you alive ever since the day he showed up at your house and asked for your hand to your mother. That was mere weeks after talking to you for the very first time.

Ivar chuckles at the question.

He remembers the day he heard of you. He just returned from York, still a prince, the memory of that mysterious thrall sitting on his lap completely naked still lingering in his mind like the most precious thought. It was the first time he felt… worthy. Appreciated. Loved. Not useless, feared or despised. And, as much as he hated to admit it, something inside him was searching to feel the same thing all over again.

Ragnhild, one of his first thralls, was preparing him a bath when Ivar found himself spilling his thoughts to the young woman: how he was told that he was destined to great things and that he believed it too, how much he wanted to be closer to the gods and how bad he longed for a woman to help him with his legacy.

The strawberry haired thrall was not much older than the prince. She was probably ten years older at most, not very smart but wise and reliable enough for Ivar to trust her with his thoughts. Her hooded green eyes and freckled face had always had a calming effect on Ivar, who would let his guard down as soon as she got close enough to take care of him. Maybe it was because she worked along his deceased mother. Maybe it was because she raised him since he was a teenage kid.

To his surprise, Ragnhild agreed with him, unaware of her tight lipped smile while she told him about the daughter of a widowed witch, a wicked sorceress who killed her own husband. Said young woman was single and, as the thrall heard, never bedded.

At first, Ivar separated himself from the soothing touch of his thrall, his scalp growing cold at the places her fingers were massaging. He asked, with a menacing tone if she was trying to get him cursed too. Calmly the thrall shook her head, using her soft touch to mould him back into his previous vulnerable state.

She revealed that it was said that you could tame ravens, as people had seen you carry around two of them on your shoulders and forearms as if they were nests of food. She hinted that they could even be Huginn and Muninn, the eyes and ears of Odin in Midgard.

And so, Ivar went looking for you, asking oblivious guards and sharp tongued rumourmongers if they have ever seen you.

He found you, peeling an apple in a hidden spot on the highest cliff, crossing a forest not even his horse was willing to walk through. He stood behind some dense bushes, watching you. It wasn’t until you cut the fruit into pieces and let out a whistle when he could see two dark figures descending from a tree. You were talking to them as if you were waiting for a response, a serene smile plastered on your face making Ivar feel a rush of heat warming up his cheeks. What a sweet and curious creature you were. Such sight proved Ragnhild was not lying. The more he stared, the bigger was his desire of owning your gift.

He kept observing and noticed how one of the ravens carried a small stone on its beak before leaving it next to you. You picked it up happily, your fingers stroking the small head of the raven before handing them a slice of apple each.

At such sight, Ivar got angry. How dared you, a simple Midgardian, treat Huginn or Muninn like mere pets, stroking their heads as if they were hounds.

So intense was his annoyance he clenched his fist and hit the wet ground, making the bushes that concealed him shake with the impact.

“Who is there?” You asked abruptly, head turning towards his spot.

Reluctantly, after a moment of silence and stillness, Ivar showed himself, crawling to your seat slowly as you stood up, a little bit frightened at the sight of a crawler snaking slowly towards you. It took you a little while before noticing he was actually prince Ivar, your body a little bit more relaxed.

“I got lost in the forest and heard someone talking. I followed the voice and found you here, playing with... Ravens?” Ivar lied, voice booming with confidence covering any sign that could give him away. You didn’t talk, making him raise his eyebrow as he tilted his head. “You are not scared of a prince, are you?”

Truth is, you had all the reasons to be scared of this particular prince. Yet you shook your head, keeping your head high and nails digging into your palm while you tried to keep your composure. Ivar kept staring at your tense frame with a crooked smile until he snapped his head to the right to look at the two curious birds moving their tiny heads, staring back at the young prince. Slowly he crawled next to them, raising his hand to see their reaction. You held your breath, fully aware that any wrong move could mean the end of your beloved ravens.

The two little feathered animals could sense your nervousness, yet they remained calm and composed, eyes blinking slowly watching the little prince look at them with contained fascination.

“It is unusual for them to stay this calm before a stranger.” You blurted out, trying to break the tension. “They must like you, my prince.”

He smiled. The thought of those sacred figures favouring him making him feel good.

“You have a sweet mouth...” Ivar looked at you, expectant.

“(Y/n)” You answered, hands tidying your skirt. “(Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

“(Y/n)” Ivar repeated, enjoying the sound of your name rolling in his tongue. “Gods must have sent you as a gift to me.” Ivar whispered as he looked at you blush, side smirk and piercing eyes exposing his hidden intentions.

Ivar recovers his trail of thoughts and tilts his head, a wide smile parting his lips as he lets his words out. You looked expectant, as if you were waiting for him to return from his trip to memory lane.

“Because you were born to be queen.”

You blink slowly, drinking down his words carefully like a strong ale, burning you and bringing heat to your cheeks the same way the beverage does.

The thing is, deep down you know you are not fit to be queen. You never were.

But the way he stared at you when he pronounced those words, as if he truly believed, firmly, adamantly, that you belonged next to him made you feel... Wanted. Worthy.

Maybe a little bit loved.

All of the sudden you feel a wave of gratification washing over you, silently thanking your mother for veiling for your protection. Her good wishes may have convinced Freyja to spare you a little bit more love than you probably deserved.

You nod with a smile plastered on your face, looking at your future husband with newfound tenderness.

“Those are beautiful words, my King.” Ivar grins with satisfaction, his calloused fingers bringing your cold hand to his mouth, gifting you another kiss before departing to the great hall. In the background, two different incessant croaks started to sound, menacingly.

Ignoring the persistent screams Ivar takes a few steps back, nodding to you as a farewell before leaving you on the same spot he found you, contemplating the silver water sway calmly like a child in the arms of the moon.

The physical pain of the braids tugging your skin no longer felt as bad.

You know that in a matter of hours, the weight of a crown would take over it.

As the moon fell upon the streets of Kattegat and painted the town in silver, the usually calm atmosphere that came with the darkness never got the chance of manifesting itself. Slowly but steadily, the soft argent shade was killed by rows and rows of bright fire, the voices of the people drowning the cracking of the fires.

Tonight, the king is crowning his queen.

“Do not forget the sacrifice, my King,” Ragnhild mumbles to Ivar, hot breath caressing his neck and ear like the touch of a lover, words dragging slowly like a menacing snake. Her hands tuck on the fur she was putting on Ivar, positioning them comfortably over his shoulders as he observes another thrall working on the last details for his wedding silently at the other side of the room. “you must do everything it is in your hands to protect your new family.” Still sitting in his fur coated chair, Ivar frowns.

“What is it that I have to protect them from, hm?” He questioned, counting the men and sources he had in his hands as he prepared himself to reprimand the mouthy thrall. “You have seen the army I own. Nothing will touch anything that is mine. Not her, nor Kattegat.” In the middle of her task, Ragnhild pauses for an instant.

“You can protect your loved ones from outsiders, but you cannot protect your wife from your own people.”

“I can punish them.” Ivar doesn’t miss a beat.

“Not when the harm cannot be seen. Or proved.” At this, Ivar turns around, chest puffed out at the idea of such menace.

“Explain yourself, thrall.” Ragnhild observes him pleasantly before walking around and bringing her hands to his hair, ready to braid it back again.

“You must remember the nature of this marriage, my King.” Her fingers start to take strands of hair slowly. “You have heard yourself first-hand what they thought about your mother-in-law and her offspring.” Discreetly, she leans closer to him. “Snakes cannot do anything else but hiss.” Under her soft touch and swift words, Ivar frowns.

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#dream writing challenge #ivar x reader #ivar/reader #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar lothbrok/reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar one shot #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok one shot #ivar lothbrok imagine #ivar the boneless imagine

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mork-lee-bee · 4 years

Text

Broken lovers II

Summary: Y/n is a hopeless romantic in love with someone who will never love her back and Jaehyun is helplessly in love with someone who only continues to hurt him over and over again, sounds like a match made in heaven right?

Pairings: CollegeStudent!Jaehyun X CollegeStudent!Y/N X CollegeStudent!Jaemin

Warnings: Cursing, reference to sex, toxic relationships

Genre: angst/fluff/smut

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

Chapter one

Next chapter

Your senses were a bit askew and confusing, you were used to the feeling of your empty bed and rougher textured blankets, while the ones you’re feeling now are much softer and because of the body next to you, it felt warmer. The smell of your vanilla perfume was replaced with the smell of orange or something citrusy at least, everything was different but still comforting. You woke up to the noise of other people probably talking in the hall. You rub your eyes and look around spotting Jaehyun sleeping peacefully his hand resting on your waist. You knew where you were and how you got there it wasn’t some vague memory you remember the lust and the feeling of euphoria the look in his eyes and the feeling in your stomach. As soon as you moved a little bit you realized you were very sore and moving would be a bitch. You could already imagine the numerous comments that Miyoung would remark as soon as she saw you.

You quietly remove yourself from Jaehyun, your head was slightly pounding not that it was a new feeling, you’d just fix it with some coffee and some fried food. You slipped the dress from last night back on and took a glance in the mirror in his room for a second to see your face, you looked like you’d been hit by a car. Your hair was a mess and your mascara was smeared under your eyes you walked like some kind of zombie over to the door.

You took one last glimpse at the sleeping figure in the bed, he looked so peaceful and kind. His softer features were nice, he had pretty eyelashes and just a kind face. You turned to leave out his door obviously this whole thing was a one-night stand type of deal, you’d probably never see him again in all honesty.

You opened the door slowly leading to it to release a high pitched squeak, you were really trying to be as quiet as possible, but the world was against that as you head for the stairs.

Johnny had woken up pretty early to clean up the disaster that was the frat house, usually, there were different issues, mainly spilled drinks that made the kitchen floor sticky or stained the carpet so he made an effort to try and help out with containing the mess as quickly as possible. Johnny held a garbage bag in one hand and was going through the rooms picking up discarded plastic solo cups, shoes, or other objects, he found a bunch of empty Soju bottles in the corner of a room and was picking them up mumbling under his breath. That’s when he spotted someone, she was covering her face and quietly walking down the stairs to the front door, clearly in a rush for some reason which was odd because it was a Saturday. He recognized her as the girl that Jaehyun was with, he remembered seeing the two of them talking and even watching Jaehyun smile until he disappeared at some point in the night, now it made sense. Johnny had assumed that Jaehyun got bored and went upstairs but this was much better, definitely, a step in the right direction for Jaehyun to move on. Johnny watched as the girl got to the front door unsure if he should stop her and get her number for Jaehyun possibly.

“Opennnnnn,” He could hear her mumble as she tried to figure out the front door, Johnny walked over smirking, the least he could do was help.

“Do you need help?” He asks politely and the girl jumps at the sound of someone, clearly not expecting anyone to be up although she didn’t know what time it was.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you,” Johnny offers the girl a sympathetic smile but she doesn’t even look up at him she stares at the ground trying to cover her embarrassed face. She doesn’t say anything she just moves to the side so he can get the door, the top lock always got stuck and took a bit of force to open, they always talked about getting it fixed or fixing it themselves but would forget after about five minutes. The click of the lock signaled he got it and step back to let the girl leave.

“Thanks,” she says before she scurries out, she was obviously a very quiet person and definitely a nice person, at least she didn’t walk around like she owned the place.

Johnny out of excitement dropped the bag of trash and ran up to the second-floor bargaining into Jaehyun’s room, he was still asleep or at least he was until Johnny burst through the door screaming disrupting the calmness that was lingering in the room.

“IS JUNG JAEHYUN MOVING ON?” It was way too early for this as Jaehyun opens his eyes to look around the room, he could barely form a coherent thought. Johnny with the biggest grin plastered on his face stands in the room.

“Shhhh,” Jaehyun sits up rubbing his eyes, the girl he was with last night was gone from his side and he just shrugged it off.

“Why are you yelling?” Another one of the frat boys, the youngest one, Haechan, asks after hearing the commotion because when Johnny yelled he’s not quiet, he’s dramatic.

“Jaehyun got some,” Johnny smirks wiggling his eyebrows slightly as Jaehyun is still in a small daze but he rolls his eyes at the remark.

“How would you know? Jaehyun raises an eyebrow causing Haechan to smile devilishly before clearing his voice.

“I don’t know Jaehyun, maybe it was the noises coming from your room last night, I couldn’t sleep with all the moaning,” Haechan laughs causing Jaehyun’s face to flush a bright red color as he grabs one of his pillows throwing it directly at the youngest’s face.

“It was a one night stand, leave me alone,” Jaehyun stretches but Johnny couldn’t get the image of the two of them smiling out of his head, he looked happy, the way his eyes focused on yours and the way he so gently touched you there was a connection he didn’t act that way with just anyone not even with Heejin recently.

“Did you at least get her number?” Jaehyun launches another pillow at the crowd that’s gathered at his doorway this time it hits Johnny clearly done with being interrogated first thing in the morning.

“Get out,” and with that, the crowd goes in their own directions, but Johnny’s thoughts still lingers on your face. He had to do something but he didn’t exactly know what.

You brace yourself for the bombardment of comments that you would be met with, you stand outside the room facing the door your face already heating up as you reach out to turn the doorknob and enter. And sure enough, she launches herself off her bed and over to where you entered.

“Oh my god,” she looks at you up and down her eyes pausing on your neck and just looking at your body language.

“Shut up Miyoung,” You cover your face with your hands, you were definitely blushing even if you couldn’t see it you could feel it.

“You seem like you had fun, but coving those hickeys are gonna be a pain,” she starts to giggle and you move your hand before your eyes go wide and you walk to the wall slowly you’re still sore as you finally reach where Miyoung had decided to hang up a mirror, you have to stand on your tippy-toes to see them because it was adjusted for Miyoung’s height but as soon as you got a good look you could see the bruise-like marks that cover your neck. You run a hand up your neck lightly and let out an annoyed groan.

“Oh ____, you can barely walk,” She starts laughing as you continue to look at your neck. You roll your eyes and waddle to your bed letting out a sigh.

“Of course I can’t walk properly, it’s been MONTHS and he wrecked me,” you emphasize as you throw the covers over your head, it was odd how cold your blankets felt and the texture wasn’t as nice.

“You’re too cute, are you gonna go to work?” You feel your bed sink under her weight slightly as she takes a seat at the edge of your bed.

“Shit, I forgot I was scheduled.” You let out a frustrated sigh as you had planned to just stay in bed and finish your assignment.

“You literally have a board on the wall that has your whole schedule, how did you forget? He really must have fucked your brains out.” She giggles and you shoot her a glare before grabbing a pillow and hitting her with it, she lets out a fake gasp as if she’s hurt before grabbing a pillow and retaliating.

“I don’t really have a choice,” You pout knowing if you called in people would be mad at you and it was pretty late to ask someone to cover your shift that starts in a few hours.

“You always have a choice, but have fun at work,” She comments as she leans back relaxing at the foot of your bed.

“What happened with you last night though?” You suddenly remember how abruptly you left her and were left curious about what ended up happening with Miyoung.

“I wasn’t there too long sadly, but I ran into Yangyang and he gave me a ride home,” Your ears perk up as soon as you hear Yangyang’s name as you lean forward out of interest.

“Yangyang?” You smile raising your voice ever so slightly in a teasing way and her smile falters leaving her frowning which was unusual for your cheerful friend.

“Yeah… and his girlfriend…” She mumbles playing with the pillow in her lap, it’s grey and fluffy but more than anything comforting, unlike the topic.

“Damn… I’m sorry, I know how much you liked him,” You reach out and grab her hand squeezing it lightly to reassure her it’ll be okay.

“Everything happens for a reason, but do you think you’ll talk with what’s his face from last night?” Miyoung ponders out loud as you lean back against the headboard of your bed and look upwards at the popcorn ceiling in contemplation.

“Jaehyun… I don’t know it was reallyyyyyyyyyyyy nice but,” Miyoung already knows what you’re about to say so you don’t even have to finish your sentence as she lets out a groan of annoyance.

“____, You’ve barely even talked to Jaemin, why are you so set on him? Why are you letting him get in the way of a possible relationship?” She questions without thinking of a better way to say it or at least a less hurtful way.

“Possible relationship? Miyoung it was a one night stand, I barely know him.” You get defensive not even looking at her out of frustration but the tone of your voice makes it clear she’s pushing your buttons as you enunciate every word to make sure she understands she’s crossing a line.

“You might not have seen it but there’s something there, no one connects that easily, you two weren’t just a one night stand,” She tries to reason her eyebrows furrow, the genuine and pure happiness that was evident on your face last night was proof enough for her to continue to push forward when she’d usually back down.

“You’re wrong, it was the alcohol more than anything. I also didn’t even get his number so even if that’s the case I wouldn’t be able to talk to him,” You huff out, crossing your arms across your body a ticking time bomb.

“You just don’t want to think that there’s a possibility that Na Jaemin might not be the one,” Miyoung hits a nerve with you as you fling the blanket off and get out of the bed ignoring the pain and going to the bathroom to shower, your abruptness leaves Miyoung on your bed letting out a sigh, your denial was frustrating but you’d have to figure it out for your own obviously.

-----------

A/n sorry that I’m posting a day late I’m trying to stay on schedule which for me is posting every one and a half weeks.

if you would like me to start a tag list just leave a note saying you’d like to be added so you’ll be easilt alerted whenever I post the next chapter, as always I hope you enjoy and if you like you can follow my blog where I might post previews for future chapters. Also you can turn on post notifications to get alerts :3 ofc all of this is optional lol.

Next chapter will be posted on 6/24 @ 6:00 MST

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skzluvs · 4 years

Text

Phobia; Han jisung

Genre: angst, fluff (if you squint)

Warnings: mention of nightmares

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: Hi! I’m back from my hiatus with another angst fic inspired by the drama it’s okay to not be okay combined with a little bit of phobia I hope you guys like it!

The girl who fed on nightmares

there was a girl who woke up every night by the nightmares, demons that haunted her dreams. She was twisted inside, held back by the painful memories of her past.

panting breath, irregular heartbeat, a cold sweat dripping from her forehand. she opened her eyes to meet with the darkness of her room. Terror washed over her. frightened.

"it's just another nightmare" she said trying to calm down the thoughts that were messing up her already deranged head.

a familiar setup, you might think she grew accustomed to the feeling after the third night but that's was not true the lingering feeling of numbness grew by the time she realized there was no escape from the chains that still cuffed her up.

the morning came earlier, with very few hours of sleep, she got up and got ready for work. the days turned into a monotone.

she arrived to bookstore, pure silence made her mind feel content. A moment of peace in the torrential rain.

"excuse me" a soft voice called her, almost as quiet as a whisper that's being shared between lovers.

she looked up to meet with a boy, with black hair and a mischievous smile, he looked cheerful with an undeniable strong aura that surrounded his slender figure, definitely not the type you would see in a library at 8am in the morning.

"yes" she replied politely to the boy who carried a handful on books on his arms.

"i want to check all of these out please" he placed the books on the counter.

As she took a look at the pile, she got intrigued by the peculiar selection.

children books.

but not the kind that you read to a child unless you want them to have nightmares, and she knew damn well about that.

"you like this gruesome stuff ?" she was never the kind to question other people's interests but for some strange motive she wanted to know.

" it's a children's book how can you call this masterpiece gruesome" the boy seemed rather offended by her words.

" the pictures make me want to cry my eyes out and I'm an adult, there's no way this book was targeted for such audience" she said

" it seems like you know nothing about this books not the author , therefore I won't be engaging in a discussion, you can continue to be ignorant later just let me borrow them so I can go" he said annoyed, taping with his finger on top of the dusty cover.

The girl refused to give out response and rather continued to do her job. she sure didn't get paid enough for that.

"here" she said handing him the books along with the returning slip. "you have 2 weeks to return them unless you want more time come before the deadline to extend the borrowing period"

"thank you" he left not sparing to look at her for the last time before exiting through the door.

the browned eyed boy who just happened to be named han jisung, she found out his name through his library card. Was all she could think about, not because she was interested, but because of the of his actions. Usually she evaded social situations, she found people not worth of her time, but there was something about that boy that made her wanted to crush him like a fragile butterfly with broken wings.

another meaningless night, it was tiring to get emptied out like that. Every time she closed her fears shaped into a reality. she was stuck with the phobia.

days passed by, a body that walks through the streets without a soul. There was nothing she wanted nothing she desired more but to fall asleep. So she lived her life longing for that moment.

going through the bookshelves placing them correctly by alphabetical order. A pair of eyes stuck to the back of her head.

a boy who watched her carefully from the other side of the room, and he probably thought he was being precautious, but she knew she was being observed.

Jisung. Who came everyday just to sit as far back from the main entrance as possible, hiding in a corner reading the books he so much loved. After the first encounter with the girl he could no longer sleep the same way. His thoughts circled around her small frame and the sound of her broken voice.

there was this thing about her, he called it despondency and he was drowned right into it. like the tales had taken over a human form.

by the end of the two weeks he stood there fidgeting, over the course of the last couple of days his little instigating got him nowhere. She repeated a daily routine, there was nothing to analyze in her vague movements and worn out expressions. However he knew she hides more than the human eye can perceive behind that weary facade.

The moment she clocked out he followed her outside.

"why are you following me" the girl stopped her tracks and made a spin over her ankles, just to meet with him.

"I needed to ask you something" He said rather shy. all the courage he build up over the weeks disappearing at the strong gaze that confronted him.

"I'm not obligated to respond, do me a favor and get lost" She turned around and continued to walk.

It was an expected reply exactly what made jisung decide it was better to come up with a different plan.

every day he would put a book of his collection on top of her desk hoping she would get interested enough to read it.

but instead she would just eye the cover and place it back to its shelf.

Not until one day she meet to something different, the book had a folded edge, opening the page carefully, her fingers ghosting over the words printed on the glossy paper.

"bad memories from the past that he wanted to erase from his head"

"were replayed in his dreams every night"

"and haunted him nonstop"

"the boy was terrified of falling asleep"

a creeping feeling went down her spine, and her trembling hands made the book fall. Her own monsters greeted her with a grin. Collapsing with the wooden floor.

jisung got petrified by the loud sound. He hurried his way to find the girl unconscious on the ground. it was all his fault.

a disturbing sound came from her mouth. She woke up in an oddly unfamiliar house. Her body covered by a thin blanket, the walls were closing like the screams that got caught up in her throat.

jisung who was downstairs making dinner ran through the stairs and opened the door alarmed at the high pitched noises.

"Are you okay?" He exclaimed trying to recover his breath.

"what am I doing here? where am i ?" she asked not trying to panic even more. She felt so dizzy the room kept on spinning.

"you're at my house, you passed out at the library" He said scratching the nape of his neck with guiltiness.

"I remember now, this was your deed, you and your stupid nauseating books" by the looks of it she had been gone for a while. Not to mention the longer she was in a slumber the longer the suffering.

"not my fault you got scared by a book for 5 year olds" He said shrugging, with an unprovoked expression.

"And you dared to call me an ignorant" she deadpanned.

"Do you fear anything?" He asked out of the blue.

what is the real meaning behind fear?. Fear is tangible. Is the anxiety, the desperation to run away and hide forever where they can't find you, it means to want to stab your eyes with a safety pin to blind the pain. Is the captivity of oneself.

"You're scared of yourself aren't you?" it no longer sounded like a question but more like an affirmation.

he had figured you out in no time. You couldn't let them see the vulnerable side, not to anyone and most definitely not this stranger.

"You said it yourself you know nothing so leave alone before it's too late" She threatened.

"Anyways I'm sorry for being so persistent, never intended to make you feel uncomfortable, I'll be downstairs if you need me, dinner is ready if you want to come and have something to eat before you leave" He knew it was better not to push it if he wanted answers.

But why was he so desperate to understand the world inside her head ?

Jisung felt the loneliness of her being. He came up to the conclusion that he wanted to be the person who brought the girl back to life.

After some time he grew a step closer to her, not to the point she would stop pushing him away but at least his efforts had made a very insignificant change.

She would let him read the books to her once in a while, she fed into the words, relating to every single one of them. But things were still the same at night, she would break down to the horrifying sight.

"Jisung why are you still here ?" she asked him unable to understand why the boy remained by her side even when she treated him like a piece of trash.

"Because im trapped under your spell" he confessed.

"You’re e going to end up in so much pain" she said looking into his eyes.

"You can't go to heaven before crossing the flames of hell" He responded with certainty. “ and If I have to burn I rather do it while still holding you”

"Would you still like me if you knew the kind of monster I am, not the one you read in books but the kind that hides behind a mask and transforms at night"

" I would still like you if you were the devil himself"

" The devil wont tear your soul apart like I would trust me" She knew she would drive him into despair. But she had warned him multiple times, from here she no longer take accountability, he would meet fear. She would make sure of that.

I'm stuck with the phobia although I want to stay with you I'm scared that you might disappear in between the shadows. How can I hold you when I was made to destroy you.

there was a girl whose world was a pitch black hole and her insides were dark and twisted, and a boy who fell in love with her repulsiveness swore to never leave her, but her darkness overshadowed the fugacious happiness of a spur moment and the voices in her head claimed that she was all alone. but the boy sang to her a lullaby that lulled her into a deep sleep and for the first time in forever there were no painful memories in her dreams.

She was the girl who fed on nightmares. The one he once read about and the one he was now holding on his arms.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fics #stray kids au #hwang hyunjin #bang chan #kim seungmin #han jisung #seo changbin #lee felix #yang jeongin #lee minho #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids #stray kids scenarios

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dhufflebee · 3 years

Text

of t-shirts and hoodies (a Glee fanfiction)

One-shot Fandom: Glee Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jesse St. James/Rachel Berry Characters: Jesse St. James; Rachel Berry Additional Tags: Fluff; Cuddles; Late Night Conversations; gratuitous references to the Michelin Man; discussions about clothes; couples' clichés; they're just very cute is all; Implied Sexual Content

Also read on: AO3 | ff.net Summary: Rachel and Jesse have a late-night conversation (and a winter morning surprise) about clothes and couples’ clichés.

Apparently these two are the only thing that can get me motivated enough to write as of lately.

Anyway, this is just a fluffy little slice of life (?) that I really couldn’t get out of my head. Rachel and Jesse are so cute; I miss them.

Still half asleep, Jesse heard a sound he didn’t recognize, and stirred under the duvet. His mind wanted to attribute the sound to the pleasant dream he’d been dreaming and couldn’t quite remember—yet the low, uneven sound wasn’t stopping. Jesse forced his eyes open and blinked a few times to regain some clarity of mind. His brain finally caught up with his ears and he recognized the noises in his bedroom: rummaging, feet shuffling, annoyed murmurs. Jesse started, alarmed by the presence of an intruder, and readied himself to jump off the bed to grab his baseball bat.

After a couple of seconds, though, the reality of the situation washed over him—It’s just Rachel. Jesse exhaled and shook his head, smiling. She’d moved into his apartment the previous month, but the novelty of living together still took Jesse by surprise every now and again.

Jesse finally emerged from under the covers in time to see Rachel put her pajamas back on, frowning like she’d received the worst news of her life. She then got back under the duvet by his side, and crossed her arms on her chest while staring at the ceiling. Jesse was frowning as well now, and he turned towards her: “Rach, what’s up?”

“I cannot believe you don’t own a single loose-fitting shirt!” she said, emphatically.

“What?!”

Rachel finally turned to look at him, eyes ablaze. “I said, I cannot believe you—”

“I heard what you said. What does it mean?” Jesse asked, bewildered.

Rachel huffed, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Look at me. I had to put my pajamas back on,” she said, raising her eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer from Jesse, who was at a loss for words. “My own PJs, Jesse! After sexy times!” she explained, petulantly.

Jesse burst out laughing. “Sexy times?”

Rachel scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, and Jesse shuffled under the covers until he reached her and enveloped her in a hug. She cuddled up to him and entangled her legs with his, humming comfortably. Jesse’s heart swelled with affection—How was I ever able to sleep before having Rachel here with me, God only knows.

“I still don’t get it, though. What’s with my shirts?” Jesse asked, stroking Rachel’s hair.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“It’s bothering you, so it clearly isn’t a trivial matter. Besides, I nearly took you for an intruder, and you know how effective I can be with that baseball bat.” He felt Rachel chuckle against his chest—surely one of the most pleasant sensations life could offer.

“It’s just—” Rachel began, shrugging a little. “You know that thing you always see in movies? where the woman is so settled into their life together or their home or whatever that she can just like, wear his clothes? Especially in the morning, when she wakes up after a night together.” Rachel shook her head and waved her hand, like she was trying to shoo an innocuous but persistent fly. “It’s silly, I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s actually kind of adorable,” Jesse said, before kissing the crown of her head softly. “Why all that fuss earlier, then? I do own clothes, you know,” he added with a smirk.

“I know you do,” Rachel exclaimed, with a smile and a playful swat on his chest. Then she frowned again, and Jesse had to resist the urge to smooth the line between her brows with his thumb. Instead, he caressed her cheek in that way he knew she liked. Rachel closed her eyes and hummed softly, and Jesse was afraid his heart would explode at any moment.

“I’ve always dreamed,” Rachel mused after a while, “that I would be able to just—take a look at my husband’s side of the closet and immediately find a loose, well-loved t-shirt to put on when I woke up, or even just a big hoodie during winter nights, you know?” A wistful smile was dancing on Rachel’s lips. Jesse (whose breath had hitched in pleasant surprise when she’d so casually said husband) looked intently at her face, and smiled in return.

“Only problem is,” Rachel said, quirking an eyebrow, “you don’t own any hoodies, and all your tops are tight cause you’re so lean and fit… Not that I’m complaining, mind you,” she added, a little breathlessly, while slowly tracing the muscles on Jesse’s abdomen with her fingers.

Jesse, for his part, was certain he’d lose any ability to understand what Rachel was saying, if she insisted on doing that—his brain was two seconds away from short-circuiting, and his skin burned under her touch. Jesse struggled to steady his breath and mentally begged Rachel to stop, because he wanted to listen to her and talk to her, and she was making it unfairly hard. (Then, when she stopped, he cursed himself for ever thinking that.)

Holding Rachel in his arms, feeling her that close to him, was intoxicating, but at least Jesse’s mind was clearing up. “I can go get some large t-shirts tomorrow, if you want,” he offered.

“Thanks, but that wouldn’t be the same,” Rachel answered shaking her head, her hair falling everywhere. She then caught a strand and started fiddling with it, almost anxiously. “The point is that the shirt should be yours, you know? Even better if it’s old and loose and soft—not the right size for my body, yet barely big enough to contain all my love.”

Rachel had spoken so quietly that Jesse wouldn’t have heard her if they hadn’t been that close. His heart swelled up, and once again he felt like he was on fire, only that time it was the steady, comforting warmth of affection spreading all through him—God, he loved her so much.

Jesse hugged Rachel tighter, the space between them almost nonexistent. She sneaked an arm around his waist and murmured: “That was so sappy”. She scrunched her nose against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head, a smile on his lips.

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

Rachel closed the door behind her and hung her coat and purse on the rack nearby. She was trying to be as quiet as possible, so not to spoil her surprise for Jesse—she’d come back home way earlier than usual, having left school before her lessons even ended just because she missed Jesse and wanted to see and hug him. Their respective schedules were a mess that month, what with her studying and him just starting rehearsals for his show, and they’d seen very little of each other. Late nights and snatchy Sundays and the rare, rushed lunch were not nearly enough.

She left her shoes near the door and padded towards the kitchen, were she could hear Jesse humming and handling plates in that noisy way of his. Rachel was glad Jesse was distracted, because that meant she could surprise him with a hug from behind—something she loved to do, and that he endearingly called ‘the sneaky koala’.

Rachel walked up to Jesse and put her arms around his waist; she felt his body tense under her touch, then relax after a couple of seconds. “Hey, Rach,” he said, a smile in his voice.

“Hi, baby,” Rachel answered, her voice muffled by Jesse’s hoodie. Wait, what? A hoodie? Rachel stepped back and stared at Jesse’s back with a puzzled expression. He was wearing a big hoodie over what appeared to be several oversized t-shirts—a rather warm outfit for a winter morning but one that was decidedly not Jesse’s style.

After a beat, Jesse turned around as well, his head tilted to the side. “What are you doing here, Rachel? Aren’t you supposed to be at school now?”

“What are you doing dressed like that, Jesse?” Rachel sputtered, gesturing wildly in his direction. “You look like the Michelin Man!”

Jesse chuckled, and Rachel could swear he was blushing a little, too. “You first,” he urged.

“I just wanted to surprise you is all,” she answered, her expression softening. “We’ve seen so little of each other lately, and I just really missed you.”

Jesse smiled and enveloped Rachel in a hug, resting his chin on her head. She sighed contentedly against the soft fabric of his hoodie. “This feels really weird, you with all these layers and stuff. What’s going on?”

“I’m just—” Jesse began, a note of uncertainty in his voice. “I’m trying to speedrun the process of making these clothes feel well-worn.”

“What?”

“I’ve been wearing all these shirts whenever I’ve been home alone in the past week,” he explains, the red on his cheeks deepening. “The plan was to just do it for a little while more, and then surprise you one morning when you opened my side of the closet.”

Rachel stared intently at Jesse, going almost weak at the knees at the fondness in his eyes. Her brain was trying to remember something, but the details were fuzzy except for the vague recollection of a late-night conversation about clothes. “You mean—”

“Yeah, so you can put on a big t-shirt of mine when you wake up,” Jesse said, bashfully.

The force of the memory slammed Rachel like an oncoming train. She couldn’t believe he’d taken her sleepy, nonsensical rambling that seriously. Her heart swelled up, and she felt she was about to burst at the seams with the intensity of her love for Jesse. She stood on tiptoes, put a hand on his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He smiled against her lips, before deepening the kiss and pressing himself flush against her.

Rachel broke the kiss apart after a while, happy that Jesse looked as flushed and out of breath as she was. She smiled and thanked him, resting a hand on his chest. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me… It was just a silly thing, really.”

Jesse tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling softly. “Of course, Rachel. You know I’d do anything to make you happy.”

Rachel bit her lip. Missing Jesse made her heart ache on the daily, but at that moment she felt so grateful and in love that she feared her heart would explode nonetheless.

“Um, baby?” Rachel said, pulling playfully at the hem of his hoodie. “Do you think you need help getting out of these shirts?”

Jesse laughed out loud, tilting his head back. “I think I can manage!”

Rachel huffed in mock exasperation and wiggled her eyebrows at him.

“Oh, you meant it like that,” Jesse exclaimed, smirking. “Then I definitely need you to help me.”

“Good,” Rachel mused, before giving him a peck on the lips and tugging at his arm so that he’d follow her. “I wonder how it’s going to feel like, getting out of bed and finally wearing a t-shirt that belongs to the man I love.” She smiled at Jesse, who was beaming and looking at her so eagerly that she felt heat spread through her body.

Maybe I should make a habit of ditching school to come home in the morning.

#glee #glee fanfiction #st berry #rachel berry #jesse st james #glee (tv)#apparently these two? are the only thing that can get me motivated enough to write??#i mean i'm not complaining but i would have never imagined tbh #rachel x jesse #myships #fanfiction #my fics

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soheila-1996 · 4 years

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Wake up, Rookie (Alternate ending!)

Paring: Ethan x F!MC

Word count: 3,011

Warnings: panic attack

Catch up here

Tags: @dulceghernandez @rookie-ramsey @choicesandanimeruleme @aylamwrites @ethansmommyissues @schnitzelbutterfingers @therookie @lilyvalentine @sitihania @cordoniaqueensworld @eramsey28 @lucy-268 @swimmingauthordreamerbonk @utterlyinevitable

Any feedback is always super appreciated! :) All characters belong to Pixelberry

(Ethan’s POV)

We’re approaching two weeks since Casey was admitted, Since the accident and nothing has really changed. Some cuts and bruises on her face and all over her body have started to heal but not much else has happened. I’m back at work, somewhat. I can hardly concentrate when I’m away from her and not sleeping isn’t helping either. All I’ve been doing is going to my office and looking over some notes and doing paperwork- it’s a distraction. The problem is it doesn’t actually distract me. My thoughts, my heart is on a completely different floor and It’s all I can think about. There’s no distracting myself from this. Even when I’m sometimes able to get some sleep, seeing her in that bed, in that state always plagues my dreams. Every day is like another painful blow when nothing happens. When she doesn’t wake up.

I drop the pen in my hand back down onto the desk. I can’t sit here and pretend that everything is okay when it really isn’t. This place once felt like my home in a way. My work, this place meant the world to me and now I can’t stand the sight of it. I hate being here but when I go home, not that I’ve been back to the house much, I’m surrounded by even more things that remind me of Casey. Remind me of that night. I’ve made a fair few mistakes in my time but letting her walk out will always be the thing I regret the most. This whole, heartbreaking ordeal is making me slowly lose my sanity. I like solving problems, I like fixing things and I just can’t fix this. There is nothing I can do to fix this.

I stand up from my desk after placing all the papers into a neat pile then leave my office. There’s no point being in here since I’m seemingly incapable of thinking about anything else. Naveen has said I could take as much time as I need off of work. I thought that helping someone else would distract me but It doesn’t. It just reminds me of the one person I want to help more than anything but I can’t. I lock my office door as I leave and make my way to the nearest elevator.

When I reach Casey’s room Abigail is just walking out. We quickly exchange pleasantries and she tells me she’s heading outside to get some fresh air and to meet Anthony. Her dad hasn’t really been here all that much, I understand though, It’s hard seeing someone you love like this.

As I sit down, I take her hand into mine. “This is getting ridiculous now, Case. I know you like your beauty sleep but this-” I say gesturing to her in the bed, “This is taking it up a notch. Please, please just wake up, Rookie.”

Everyone is affected differently by a head injury. The truth is we just don’t know what this has done to her until she wakes up. If she wakes up.

There’s a huge possibility of brain damage. Brain damage? That could mean so many things. What if she does? What is her life going to be like? There are so many things, so many consequences just those two words could possibly mean and that’s terrifying. This entire situation makes me feel physically sick. It’s so incredibly hard to watch someone you love

Her life could potentially be so incredibly different to how it was before all of this. Of course, I want her to wake but I’m terrified. What if she can’t do so many of the other things that she could before this? What if this affects her career. Being a doctor, saving people's lives means the absolute world to her. I’m dreading finding out if she’ll have any lasting side effect from this.

Just then, Abigail and Anthong make their way in and take a seat on the other side of the bed. I guess the one good thing to come out of this is that I’ve gotten to know her parents better but that’s not really important right now.

Some time goes by before either of us speak again, Anthony left to go and stretch his legs a short time ago. “Ethan,” Abigail calls to me quietly. I look up from my lap and over to her and she gestures to Casey. From where I’m sitting I can see her eyes starting to flutter.

“Can you go and get Harper?” Abigail nods and rushes out of the room. I stand up and move closer to the bed, moving into Casey’s line of view. The heart monitor Casey is connected to alerts me of her spiking heart rate. “Casey it’s okay. Calm down. It’s okay.” I have no idea if she understands what I’m saying to her and since she still has a tube down her throat she can't talk to me.

She uncoordinately and with much more effort than should be needed, Casey brings her weak arm up to her mouth, grabbing hold of the tube. I place my hands over her and gently push them away. “I’m going to take that out, okay? It’s alright.”

Just as I start to reach for a pair of gloves, Harper rushes in. “I’ll do it,” she insists. “Abigail, you might want to leave the room,” Harper advised as she gets a pair of gloves and slips them one easily.

Abigail refuses to leave and so Harper gets on with it. Removing the tube is never a nice thing, Casey gags a lot but Harper gets it out of it fairly quickly.

Harper moves out of the way so Abigail and I can get step up closer to the bed. Her eyes are darting around the room. She must be so confused. I can’t imagine how confusing this all must be.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, “You’re in the hospital, you were in an accident but you’re okay, Case,” I explain to her quietly.

“I’m here too,” Abigail adds, “And dad is here too. He’s just gone for a walk.”

Her eyes continue to dart back and forth between us both. She gives neither of us an indication that she understood what we just told her. “Casey, do you understand what I’m saying.”

Once again she doesn’t respond. “Casey?” I ask, grabbing hold of her hand.

“I can’t move,” She tells me. Her voice is raspy and quiet. Abigail leans in closer to her.

“What Honey?” I can see the terrified expression that plastered over her face as she asks her daughter to repeat what she just said.

“M c-can’t m-move,” she repeated. Panic immediately washes over me as I glance at Harper.

Why can’t she move? This isn’t happening.

I run my fingers through her hair to soothe as she begins to panic. “Shhh…It’s okay, Casey. It’s okay.”

“S-scared,” She whispers. She winces at the pain in her throat that the tube has caused. Her voice is barely audible.

“You don’t need to be, sweetheart,” Abigail chimes in. I can’t begin to imagine how scared and confused she is right now. She doesn’t deserve this. Nobody does.

“Tired,” She murmurs as her eyes start fluttering shut again.

“Get some rest,” I whisper. It doesn’t take long for her eyes to flutter shut.

***

It’s nearly an hour later when Harper leads Anthony, Abigail and I to a vacated board room. . I take a seat beside Abigail, Anthony takes the other side of her and Harper sits opposite us all.

“Okay, good news is Casey does have some feeling in both her legs,” Harper explains, “Two weeks is a long time to now be moving. After her legs have healed is going to need some physical therapy to get some strength back. Her memory is a little bit off, she doesn’t remember much from the accident but that’s what we’d expect anyway.”

“But she...she remembers everyone, right?” I ask. I think back to when she woke up, she didn’t say any of our names or gave an indication that she recognised us.

“Yes, she knows who her pain in the ass boyfriend is,” Harper says with a small smirk. “All in all, she’s doing really well.”

(Casey’s POV)

The next time I open my eyes, they’re thankfully not stung by the harsh light like they had been earlier. I vaguely remember waking up, seeing Ethan and my parents but nothing else. The memory is so vague that it almost feels like it was a dream or something.

I turn my head to the side and see Bryce sitting in the chair next to my bed, scrolling through his phone. I wonder where Ethan is.

“Lahela ” I whispered. My throat feels like it’s burning feeling like it’s burning. It feels like it’s literally on fire. Bryce puts his phone away and turns to me.

“Hey, look who's up,” Bryce said quietly and scooted the chair closer.

“E-Ethan,” I ask, I bring my hand up instantly to my throat at the pain that laces through it as I speak.

“Don’t talk if it hurts,” he recommends, it makes sense. “Ethan just popped out for a bit. He should be back soon but until then you’re stuck with me.”

I’m aware of the fact I’m in a hospital but why I’m here is not information i’m privy to right now. Everything is fuzzy and doesn’t make much sense. “What happened?” I wince at the burn in my throat.

“What’s that last thing you remember?” he asked, an unusual down expression on my friends face.

“I-I d-don’t-”

I look around the room. Where am I? It’s a hospital, I know but I don’t understand why I’m here or what’s going on. God, why does everywhere hurt?

There’s an annoying beeping coming from just behind my bed. Talking of the bed; it feels like it’s made of nails.

“You’re in the hospital,” Bryce confirms. I nod; I’ve already figured that out but thankful for the confirmation.

“W-why?” God my throat hurts.

“You we’re in a car accident,” he explains.

The last thing I remember is arguing with Ethan then...nothing. “W-what?” I question. None of this makes sense to me. I don’t even know how time has passed.

Is it the same day?

Is it weeks or months later?

My throat hurts so I’m logically able to put that down to an intubation tube being down there, and I kind of remember Harper removing it. “W-wh-” I just don’t understand. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest; my breathing quickens. Fuck.

A loud beeping fills the room. Bruce leaps forward and comes to sit on the bed beside me. He takes my face in his hands to make me look at him.

I can’t breathe.

“It’s okay. Case, it’s alright. Everything is okay,” he tries to soothe but it’s not. It’s not okay. None of this is okay.

My eyes dart around the room. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest!I’m trying to get air into my lungs but it seems like the harder I try, the amount of air I’m actually getting decreases.

My heart is thudding against my rib cage.

I’m confused. I’m so confused.

I’m scared.

I’m crying now; I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand how this happened.

I can’t breathe- that’s the one concrete thing I know right now.

I’m now only able to take in a few strangled breaths. The panic I’m feeling has already gotten its vicious claws in and I can’t shake it off.

I’m scared. I want Ethan.

I can feel Bryce’s hands on the side of my shoulders but his soothing touch isn’t doing anything to comfort me.

I'm vaguely aware of the door being yanked open and other people coming into the room in a flurry of colours and noises that I’m unable to make sense of.

When I look back up, Ethan is in Bryce’s place now. “Casey, look at me.” My panicked filled gaze flicks up to meet his. “It’s okay. You’re okay,”he tried to soothe. “Copy me, okay?”

I nod. I just want to be able to breathe properly again and to understand what’s going on. Ethan takes in a deep breath in through his nose and exhales out of his nose for a few seconds. I tried to follow suit but I can’t. It’s too hard.

Telling me to breathe isn’t actually helping me too!

Eventually I manage to get the hang of; following my boyfriend's breathing pattern. I feel myself start to calm down, the beeping stops, and the other people and Bryce disperse from the room, leaving Ethan and I on our own.

He stays sitting on the bed. I look up at my eyes welling up. “I don’t under-”

“It’s okay,” Ethan interrupts. “You’re okay; that’s all that matters.” Ethan explains everything to me. The accident, the two week long coma- all of it. I shouldn’t have left that night.

By the time our conversation ends, I’m exhausted and just want to sleep. It’s so much information to process. I’m still not sure that I understand all of it just yet. There’s so much that I don’t understand right now but all I know is that everything will be okay as long as I have Ethan by my side.

(Ethan’s POV)

One year later

Today is the day I never thought would become a reality at times, marrying the love of my life. Finally after the Ross and Rachel like relationship, after all the hardships we’ve faced together, we’re getting married and we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together. The next chapter of our life together is being written today.

It hasn’t been easy, that’s for certain but all those things have just made our relationship stronger. It’s made us both realise that we can get through anything together.

The last year has been incredibly difficult for the pair of us- Casey especially. She had to recover, she had to do all the work but it all led up to where we are now.

(Casey’s POV)

Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it. I’m getting married to the sexiest doctor on the planet. There’s no one else that I’d rather spend the rest of my life with. There have been a plethora of things that have happened that made me think today would never happen but alas, It’s here and I couldn’t be happier.

I’m currently in my hotel room where Ethan and I are getting married. This place is special. My parents got married here back in the day. I’m facing the mirror concentrating as I put in the last earring.

I see my mom come behind me in the mirror. I know that she’s really happy for me and it’s good since Ethan is the only one of my boyfriend who my parents 100% approve of. She walks up to stand beside me and rests her hands on my shoulder.

“You look stunning, Casey,” She says softly, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I’m ready.”

“Well then, let’s go get you married to your prince charming, shall we?” she asks, unable to keep the huge off her face.

I spin around on my heel to face her, a huge grin spreading across my own face, “Yeah,” I breathe. This is going to be the start of something amazing.

(Ethan’s POV)

Casey is sleeping soundly beside me. I’ve been unable to drift off for some time so I decided to read through some of the new medical journal Casey had recently brought me for my birthday just a week ago.

My attention is drawn to her when she flinches. I turn to look down at her and shake it off when nothing else happens. A second later Casey starts to whimper. I place the journal down onto my bedside table, about to scoot over to her but she shoots up before I can, panting and visibly shaken.

The sad truth is that Casey does often wake up from nightmares most nights. She ended remembering a little bit more of the accident and that tended to plague her dreams. She insists that she’s fine but she’s not. I don’t think anyone can just move on from something so traumatic. It’s going to take time.

We sit for a little while, Casey wrapped tightly in my arms. “Do you want to see if you can fall back to sleep?” I know that Casey is often fairly hesitant to fall back asleep again. I understand, completely. The argument, getting the phone call from Harper, seeing her for the first time and then Casey going into cardiac arrest are things that I still have nightmares about..

She yawns again and nods. I let her go out of my hold and we lie down together. Casey snuggles into my side and rests her head on my chest. I can’t explain how grateful I am to still have her here with me. Last year was one neither of us are never going to forget but it makes me appreciate her all the more. I know that I’m never going to take her for granted again.

Casey’s POV)

Being wrapped in his arms is honestly something that I didn’t would happen again. I remember seeing that car speeding towards me and thinking of Ethan. I wish that the accident never happened but it’s brought us close together. We got married, we’re happy. Yeah, we squabble now again but that’s fairly normal in most relationships but we always figure it out before it goes too far. Before one of us storms out and has another near death experience.

Ethan’s strong heartbeat is always able to soothe my after a nightmare however the nightmare is still playing over and over in my head and I know that Ethan’s notices.

“It’s okay, Rookie. I’m here. For as long as you need me to be I’ll be here.”

#soheila-1996 writes #open heart #open heart fic #open heart fanfiction #open heart 2 #open heart 2 fic #open heart fanfic #choices open heart 2 fanfiction #choices fanfiction #choices open heart #Choices Ethan Ramsey #choices #ethan ramsey #dr ethan jonah ramsey #dr ethan ramsey x mc #dr ethan ramsey fanfic #choices ethan #dr casey valentine #ethan x mc

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mdzsgildedfate · 3 years

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Gilded Fate - Chapter 11

Reincarnation AU [Chapter 11/?] Characters: Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, Original Characters. Pairings: Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, Xue Yang/OC

A deafening silence fell over the temple as the last of the students disappeared out of sight. The sun was beginning to sink in the sky and a small chill was settling in, serving as a reminder of the impending season change. Jin Ling stared on down the path long after everyone had gone, mulling over the situation still at hand. Clenching his jaw, he spun around and disappeared back inside the temple.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he quickly made his way through the winding hallways. Even though one of the potential dangers had been somewhat resolved, Jin Ling didn’t feel any less on edge. During Xinyi’s awakening, something stuck out to him- a seemingly insignificant detail that had unsettled him. Perhaps it was nothing. Very likely, it was completely unrelated to the other disturbing occurrences in the temple, but he wasn’t about to leave any stone unturned.

Hunting down Xiao Xingchen hadn’t been difficult. Jin Ling quickly found him drifting about the halls, looking nearly indistinguishable from the other ghosts that lingered around the premises. Even with the noise he made in approaching, Xingchen didn’t acknowledge the other cultivator until he was standing directly in front of him.

“Xiao Xingchen.” Jin Ling addressed him, blocking his path. “What happened back there with Song Lan?”

Xingchen gave his usual noncommittal shrug and tried to move past Jin Ling.

“Cut the crap. I know you’re faking.” Jin Ling squared his shoulders, refusing to let the man leave. “I heard you say Xinyi’s name. I know you can talk.”

The priest paused, looking at Jin Ling with an annoyed expression. “Why do you think I have some hidden information? You saw the same thing I did. Song Lan lost control of his Yin energy for a moment.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?”

Xingchen drew back with a bemused expression. “What are you implying?”

“Song Lan has had over eight thousand years to learn energy control. I don’t believe for one minute that a sword fight with Xinyi was enough to break that.”

“Believe it or not, it’s none of my business.” Xingchen pushed past Jin Ling. “If you’re so worried, why don’t you go ask him?”

Grabbing Xingchen’s shoulder, he pulled him back to face him. “I will when I find him. I don’t suppose you know where he is?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t make a habit of keeping track of his location every second of every day.” He replied, looming over Jin Ling. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with your stories of caves and demonic cultivators, but I’m tired of entertaining this game.”

Jin Ling’s jaw dropped in surprise, shocked by Xingchen’s disposition. He knew Song Lan was reluctant to believe what he’d said, but at least aired on the side of caution. Xingchen’s total lack of concern and blatant disregard of the potential danger was startling.

“Fine!” He snapped after a long pause. “It’s no wonder Song Lan is the way he is, walking through hell for someone who won’t even talk to him.”

Xingchen stopped dead in his tracks, fists clenched. Stepping even closer to Jin Ling, black veins creeping up his neck, Xingchen grabbed the front of the man’s robe. With their faces so close together, Jin Ling could see the faint remnants of tear stains on the priest’s face.

“How dare you make such wild presumptions about us?” He hissed, “Why should I be grateful to someone who condemned me to an endless life as a fierce corpse? Why should I be grateful to someone who keeps me locked away here?”

Suddenly dropping Jin Ling’s lapel, Xingchen stepped back, squeezing his eyes against the tears threatening to spill out again. Jin Ling watched speechlessly, cycling between shock and guilt.

“Song Lan didn’t walk through hell for me.” The veins receded and his fists unclenched, his demeanour relaxing into a state of defeat. “He brought me back so he could feel better about what happened. Everything he did was with complete disregard to my feelings. My refusal to speak is the only mercy I can show him.”

“Do you really hate him so much that Xue Yang’s company was preferable?” Jin Ling asked, muscles tensed.

Xingchen turned his gaze to the Jin Cultivator, falling quiet for a long time before speaking again. “When I died, I was blind. When I woke up, I suddenly wasn’t. That was just one of many secrets Song Lan has kept from me the past three thousand years. Xue Yang’s presence here was likely my last chance to find answers. It was hardly a matter of whose company was preferable.”

With that, the priest walked away, leaving Jin Ling behind to process the information. Seeing Xingchen’s raw emotions, he could understand why he’d chosen to feign being mute to Song Lan. Jin Ling himself had separated from the two Lans for a similar need to avoid difficult conversations, he could only imagine what it’d be like if he had to live isolated with them like Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Jin Ling returned his focus to the trouble at hand. Song Lan’s outburst still held suspicion for him, regardless of Xingchen’s opinion on it. Returning to his sweep of the temple, he searched every nook and cranny of the building in search of the other priest. Without the students occupying them, the spare rooms echoed eerily, feeling entirely too empty.

Coming to the last room, a fresh anxiety swelled within Jin Ling. If Song Lan wasn’t inside, it meant he had disappeared from the temple again. After his initial encounter with Xiao Xingchen, Jin Ling hadn’t run into a single other person. Something definitely didn’t feel right. Steadying his breathing, and trying to quell his growing unease, Jin Ling reached out and slid the door open. And let out a sigh of relief.

“There you are.”

With his back to Jin Ling, Song Lan stood ridgid in the middle of the otherwise empty room.

“Song Lan?”

The man jolted slightly, coming to life and rotating to face the other cultivator. Ice ran through Jin Ling’s veins immediately. Before he had a chance to react at all, his body suddenly froze, refusing to move no matter how hard he strained his muscles. His heart pounded in his chest as he heard movement behind him- the light footsteps of someone walking just out of view. His vision blurred and everything went black.

~X~

Most of the ride back to Beijing was passed dozing off and on. The adrenaline from his injured hand had worn off, leaving Xinyi feeling exhausted. His head rested on Chen’s shoulder, with one of the man’s arms wrapped around him, occasionally shifting in his seat whenever the ride’s turbulence rattled him awake. In between those moments, his dreams came forward in vague clips- memories from his life before.

As they pulled into the university parking lot, Chen gently shook him awake so they could begin gathering their things. Everyone filed off quietly, having still not quite recovered from the shock at the temple. Most of the students headed back to the dorms, leaving only a spare few stragglers to trudge through the parking lot in search of their own cars. Exchanging a few words amongst themselves, QianHua waved goodbye and left Chen to drive Xinyi home.

Before they made it far, Sizhui and Jingyi stopped them. Urging Chen to keep walking, Xinyi turned to face the two men.

“Xinyi. I won’t keep you long, I know you’re tired and in pain.” Sizhui said, choosing his words carefully. “But we’re obviously apprehensive about what happened-”

“Apprehensive?” Xinyi asked, looking at the two blankly. “You haven’t stopped staring at me since we left the temple. Are you afraid I’ll kill someone if you blink?”

“This isn’t my first time witnessing someone remember their past life.” Sizhui continued, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m not ruling out the possibility.”

“Considering what kind of person you used to be.” Jingyi added.

“Right. Because you knew me so well?” Xinyi narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t you know me better now?”

“It’s true, we’ve known you longer as Xinyi than as Xue Yang.” Sizhui said, cutting off whatever thought Jingyi was forming. “But the awakening process can have… side effects. Especially for people who died with regrets, or grudges-”

“I don’t care about anything that happened back then.” Xinyi interjected quickly. “I was a poor orphan that resorted to violence to survive, who glorified someone for showing me bare minimum kindness. None of that applies to my life now.”

Sizhui scanned his eyes over him, not looking entirely convinced. “You didn’t seem terribly indifferent when Xingchen tried to talk to you.”

Xinyi frowned at the name, breaking his eye contact with Sizhui. “I guess I have higher standards for how people treat me now. I’m thankful to you and Jingyi for helping me, but you’re not much different. You’re not looking out for me, you don’t even care that I’m a different person.”

Holding up his injured hand, he looked between Sizhui and Jingyi a few times before continuing. “You still remember I’m your student right? Wasn’t it your job to keep me safe? Everyone’s so worried that I might hurt other people, but no one batted an eye at the danger I was in around Song Lan.”

“I-... I’m sorry… You’re right.” Sizhui tilted his head down, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Jiaoshou. I’m going home. I’ll see you in class.”

Sizhui and Jingyi watched as Xinyi left, at a loss for what to say even to each other. The whole week had been spent worrying about Xue Yang’s return, just as Xinyi said, never once considering the possibility of Song Lan deviating. The two walked back to Sizhui’s car, not breaking the silence until the doors shut them inside. All at once, Sizhui’s emotions broke and he bent over the steering wheel in tears.

“A-Yuan, this isn’t your fault-”

“How is it not?” Sizhui asked, lifting his face. “I keep failing, time and time again! Every time I try to help, I just make things worse!”

“That’s not true.” Jingyi put a hand on Sizhui’s shoulder.

“Yes it is! You know it is, you know I was lying about Wen Chao. He didn’t try to redeem himself! I induced his awakening and he killed himself!” His whole body shook with sobs. “Because of my negligence, Wen Qing slaughtered an entire village. We haven’t seen Zizhen in thousands of years because of what I let happen! And now-!”

Jingyi grabbed the back of Sizhui’s shirt and pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms tight around the sobbing man. Stroking his hand over Sizhui’s hair, he let him cry into his shoulder until the sobs subsided into soft hiccups. He pulled back, wiped the tears from Sizhui’s face, and kissed him.

“Did you do those things alone?” Jingyi asked, looking into Sizhui’s eyes. “I was there with you. You did the best you could, but those were imperfect situations with imperfect outcomes. They likely would have happened whether we were there or not. It’s true, we didn’t handle Xinyi well, but we did the best we could under the circumstances.”

Sizhui let out a stuttered breath, stifling another wave of tears.

“A-Yuan. Xinyi’s upset, and rightfully so, but this is far from the worst scenario. No one died.”

“That’s a pretty shitty minimum standard.”

“Ok, well, just for that, you’re copying the Lan principles when we get home.” Jingyi said curtly, sitting back in his seat. “Using such vulgar language, I’m disappointed in you.”

Sizhui broke into laughter, putting his forehead to Jingyi’s shoulder for a moment before straightening up. Jingyi was right; they had all been prepared for the worst and, at the very least, no one died.

~X~

All the way back to Xinyi’s house, he could see the tension on Chen’s face while he drove. It wasn’t surprising to think he had some questions, or a million, about what happened, but Xinyi appreciated the silence for as long as he could. He was sure anything Chen wanted to ask didn’t have an easy answer. It gave Xinyi a small insight into Xiao Xingchen’s vow of silence with Song Lan, making it seem a little less crazy in retrospect.

The Wang residence was a good forty minute drive from the university, giving them both plenty of time to process their thoughts. Once they pulled off the highway, Chen turned the volume on the radio down, still silent for a while before actually speaking.

“Have you thought of what you’re going to say to your family when they see your hand?”

Xinyi looked down at it, resisting the urge to take off the bandages to survey the damage. “Not really. I’ve got some time though. My parents are never home this time of year and A-Zhou won’t notice.”

Chen let out a small laugh. “Right. Unless she grabs your hand.”

Xinyi winced at the thought. “I’ll just have to be careful.”

“What about your uncle?”

“I’ll just have to pray.”

The roads gave way to a pleasant suburban neighborhood, free of traffic as the hour grew later. The streetlights were just beginning to turn on, giving the area a dreamlike appearance.

“A-Xin…”

Xinyi turned his attention from the window to look at Chen.

“Should I even bother asking about what happened?” He asked, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“You saw just as much as I did, what-”

“You know what I mean. After QianHua and I were pushed out of the room. What actually happened.”

Xinyi looked down, clearing his throat anxiously. “Why do you think something weird happened…”

Chen’s jaw clenched. “I know you’re still recovering, but if we’re… whatever this is we’re doing… I need to know.”

“It’s really not important.” He replied, his gaze drifting to the sword at his feet. “I want to forget about it.”

The car pulled up in front of the Wang house, rolling to a stop on the side of the street. After a few silent beats, Chen reached his hand over to rest on Xinyi’s thigh. Looking up at the house, Xinyi felt a strange aversion to going inside.

“A-Xin… did something bad happen?”

Xinyi couldn’t help but laugh and hold his hand up. “No, of course not.”

Chen glowered at him, retracting his hand. “Please don’t do that.”

He put his hand down.

“What did you and Xingchen talk about?”

“Ah…” He looked at Chen, trying to find an answer to the question. “I mean. I basically just told him I didn’t want to see him again.”

“Basically?”

“Chen…” Xinyi sighed, putting a hand on JiangZai’s hilt. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you, but if I tell you the truth, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“Is that any different from usual?” Chen asked, moving his hand back to Xinyi’s leg. “You’ve always been weird. Your whole family is weird. Don’t you think I knew that when I started liking you?”

Xinyi turned his gaze to the man, looking at him for a long time, weighing the options. “...Fine. But it’s a long story.”

A small smile cracked across Chen’s face and they set to work collecting their belongings to go inside. The house was dark inside, giving no indication as to who was home. Testing the waters, Xinyi flipped a few lights on as they silently made their way through the rooms. Before long, the sound of footsteps came from upstairs. Xinyi held his breath, watching the stairs in anticipation of who would appear.

Slowly coming into view was a young girl, around sixteen, with short, spiky hair, and white eyes. Halfway down the stairs, she paused, listening with a suspicious expression on her face. Xinyi approached the stairs, keeping his movements as soundless as possible. Despite his efforts, her face immediately turned to where he stood.

“DaGe? Why are you home?” She demanded immediately.

Letting out his breath, Xinyi fell into a lighthearted laugh. “How has your hearing gotten so good?”

“You’re just loud!” She retorted, descending the stairs to hug him.

Xinyi wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the stairs and spinning around to set her back down. They stayed in a tight embrace for a few seconds before breaking apart, Xinyi moving carefully to avoid letting her touch the injured hand.

“Someone else is with you, right? Who’s here?” Zhou turned to Chen, reaching a hand out and feeling her way to his face. “Hey, you’re supposed to be on that field trip too!”

Chen pulled away, whipping his glasses off to clean her fingerprints from the lenses. “We got rained out, everyone came home early.”

“ZhouZhou, where’s Uncle? Is he home?”

“Yeah, downstairs.” Zhou replied, turning to face him again.

“We’re going up to my room, don’t tell him we’re here.”

Zhou nodded and the two climbed the stairs to Xinyi’s bedroom, closing the door behind them. Xinyi dumped his stuff onto the desk, letting the sword clatter onto the surface haphazardly, and threw himself onto the bed. Chen dropped his belongings onto the floor and climbed onto the bed beside Xinyi, patiently waiting for him to continue the conversation from the car. Slowly, Xinyi pulled his face from the blankets and looked at Chen.

“It’s been a long day, can’t we just go to bed-?”

“A-Xin.”

Xinyi frowned, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Let the record show, you bullied me into this.”

“Acknowledged. Now spill.”

Where to even begin? How much information did he actually have to give Chen? His actions as Xue Yang weren’t things to be proud of, but could he explain his relationship with Xingchen without it? He looked at Chen nervously, trying to collect his thoughts to put into words.

“Remember the lecture Song Lan gave about Cultivators?” Xinyi asked tentatively, studying Chen’s face.

“Yeah… It’s like the stories about your family’s antiques.”

“Exactly. Everyone thinks we made the stories up to gain attention for our collection. You did too, right?”

Chen opened his mouth with an incredulous expression, prepared to defend himself.

“Don’t look offended, I thought they were kinda bullshit too. The antiques are cool, but the stories sound fake.”

“Are you trying to get us off-topic?”

“No.” Xinyi paused, trying to think of what to say. “Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan aren’t just Taoist priests living in a temple for no reason. They’re Cultivators.”

“...Okay.”

“And they’re about eight thousand years old.”

“........Okay.”

Pausing again, Xinyi looked at Chen questioningly, waiting for the man to accuse him of joking around or lying or just plain sounding crazy.

“So are Sizhui and Jingyi Jiaoshou.”

Chen’s face scrunched slightly. “Are you being serious or are you just fucking with me?”

“I’m being serious. This is why I said you’d think I was crazy.”

“Alright… let’s say I do believe you…What does this have to do with what happened?”

“The reason you guys were told to leave was because…” He bit his lip, hesitating with his words. “They had to do something to make me remember my past life.”

The other man stared up at him blankly, the faintest hint of annoyance behind his eyes.

“Chen, really, I know this sounds stupid. Can we please just forget about it?”

“So…” Chen furrowed his brow, fussing with a stray string hanging from the blanket. “Sizhui and Jingyi Jiaoshou… and the two priests… are 8,000 year old ‘Cultivators’, who you knew in your past life? And they ‘did something’ to make you remember that… right after one of them attacked you…”

Xinyi’s heart was pounding in his chest, painfully skipping at Chen’s expression. Everything he’d just told the man sounded beyond ridiculous, there was no way in hell Chen could believe him. Any second, he’d storm out and never talk to Xinyi again.

“Pretty much…”

“What’d you do to piss off Song Lan that bad?”

“I uh… killed him. Xingchen too, technically…” He replied, surprised that Chen was even entertaining his bullshit anymore.

“I thought you said they were thousands of years old.”

“They’re reanimated corpses.”

Chen drew in a sharp breath, clenching his jaw again. Bringing his eyes up slowly, he looked past Xinyi to the sword resting on the desk behind him. Xinyi could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Chen…” Tentatively reaching a hand out, Xinyi touched his fingers to Chen’s knee. “I swear I’m not lying. You can call me crazy, you don’t have to believe anything I just said, but I swear I’m not lying-”

“I believe you.”

Xinyi’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes widening into a shocked stare.

“There were so many weird things about this trip, I don’t think I would’ve believed any normal explanation.” Chen finally met Xinyi’s eyes, still looking a little reserved. “It’s a lot to take in though.”

Whether from relief or sheer shock, Xinyi burst into laughter, falling onto his side. After a moment, Chen joined in, filling the room with their combined voices. When they both finally came to their senses and caught their breath, Xinyi shifted closer to Chen, wrapping his limbs around him into a tight embrace. Something about the other man actually believing him made the whole situation less ridiculous, relieving some of the insanity Xinyi had been feeling.

~X~

After more than a year of running on only a few hours of sleep a night, Xinyi’s body naturally woke sometime in the early morning. The room was still dark, the only sounds coming from the soft breathing of the man beside him. Careful not to wake Chen, Xinyi slipped out of the bed and felt his way to the door, pausing as his hand grazed over the sword on his desk. Taking several seconds to process what he was touching, he wrapped his fingers around it and carried it out of the room with him.

Promptly deciding he didn’t want JiangZai hanging around his room as a constant reminder, Xinyi descended into the basement to store the thing in the family vault. He punched in the code quickly and pulled the heavy door open, switching on the lights and pausing to let his eyes adjust. A small shiver ran down his spine, looking around the room with new eyes. The items within were no longer mysterious artifacts, but ancient Cultivating tools, some of which he recognized personally.

Walking slowly through the room, processing each item as he passed, Xinyi made his way to an empty set of shelves towards the back. Unsheathing the sword, he let his eyes scan over the blade, dwelling on the dissonance it brought, before sheathing and discarding it onto one of the shelves. Turning to leave, Xinyi was surprised to see a familiar face waiting behind him. Standing at the door was the unmistakable figure of his dear friend, Smiling Ghost.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked nonchalantly, taking his time in crossing the vault to where she was waiting.

She gave no reaction, patiently watching him as though they were old friends. Coming closer, Xinyi was able to make out more and more details of her face. She no longer wore the knowing smile that had unnerved him much before, looking at him instead with a soft, pleasant expression. A new familiarity settled in his mind as he looked at her, searching his memories for a name to place to the face.

“I know you…” He said quietly, mostly to himself.

Her lips twitched up into a smile, waiting for him to solve the riddle.

“Oh! I know you!” His voice rang out in a quiet triumph, but his features quickly changed to confusion. “But why are you…”

The memories of his last encounter returned to his mind, recalling the words she’d silently mouthed to him that day in the woods. Dawning realization quickly transformed into fearful urgency as her prior actions finally made sense.

“Oh no. Oh fuck.” Xinyi’s eyes widened, garnering a broad smile from his dear friend.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he retraced his steps to retrieve JiangZai before flying past Smiling Ghost, quickly climbing the stairs back up to his room. He flipped the lights on with no care for the man still sleeping in his bed and tossed open the closet door. Pulling on the first pair of pants and long-sleeved shirt he found, Xinyi re-emerged from the closet.

“A-Xin? What are you doing?” Chen asked, watching him with bleary eyes.

“I have to go.” He replied, slipping into a jacket and pressing a kiss to Chen’s cheek. “I’ll explain when I get back, I don’t have time right now.”

Before Chen could even form a thought to argue, Xinyi disappeared from the room again. Waiting by the front door, Smiling Ghost followed Xinyi out of the house and around to the garage. The first snowflakes of the season were starting to fall, making him hesitate for only a moment as he considered the consequences of the weather. One quick glance at Smiling Ghost was enough to chase away his concerns. Without another thought, Xinyi pulled on a helmet and mounted his bike, speeding down the road back to Leng Shuang WeiFeng Temple.

#mdzs #mdzs fic #the untamed #the untamed fic #xue yang #xiao xingchen #xuexiao #song lan #junior disciples #jin ling #lan sizhui #lan jingyi

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cordoniantrash · 4 years

Text

Once Upon Another Time: Chapter Nine

AU: In another time where the brothers Beaumont did not reach Cassandra in time, the waitress turned lady went back to New York to rebuild her old life. After finding an unexpected souvenir, she set off and joined her long lost family. Four years later, a newly divorced King of Cordonia arrives in New York in hopes of reuniting with his beloved. Instead of Cassandra, all he found was a postcard with the word Edgewater written on the back

Catch up here: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Plus a masterlist if you guys are interested. Also in AO3.

Hello and welcome to my longest chapter to date! Also the opening of the “second act”. Chapters from this one onward are gonna be pretty long, so... brace yourselves I guess? Huge thanks to @thequeennefertipi for being my beta and for sticking with this story.

Segue: If you guys like the Miraculous Ladybug, she’s written an amazing fanfic about Chloé Bourgeois, which can be found in her writing blog and in her AO3!

Anyways, feel free to let me know what you guys think!

Spelling and grammatical errors are mine.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, Pixleberry has that privilege. Title for both the series and the chapter titles, plus the epigraphs are from Sara Bareilles’ discography.

Pairings: Liam x MC

Warning: brief, non-graphic depiction of violence, long post

Words: 9994

Chapter Nine: Wicked Love

Wait until you see

How mighty the truth can be

Like an ocean of light

It's a sky filled with fireflies

Liam could still catch snippets of the revelry inside even though he had closed the double doors that lead to the balcony. Placing both hands on the railing, he allowed his composure to bleed away from him. That did not ease his heavy heart. Liam heaved a sigh as he closed his eyes.

“You know, I thought you’d have a few more years before you’d try to escape anniversaries.”

Liam tensed. Taking care to mask his emotions, he turned and met his father’s eyes.

“You should be resting, father.”

Constantine’s small smile vanished. A part of Liam, the little boy that still yearned for his papá, for just a moment, just a little more time, for just a scrap — mourned its loss. He mentally shrugged off the heartache, a part of him surprised at how easily he could do it. Must be all the practice he’s been getting.

“Liam—“

“The festivities can survive without me for a few more moments, father. Besides, Madeleine can handle it.”

“I know that. We both know that. But that is not why I sought you out.”

“Father—“

“No, Liam. King or no king, a son must still listen to his father.”

Liam’s hands curled into fists. A multitude of words seemed to have stuck inside his throat, all of them yearning to be let out. To let his father know how hard this year had been. How much it hurt. He wanted to scream and lash out. Let the world know how he felt. Why should I listen to you when you blocked me at every turn? Why should I even look at you when you’ve hurt her and driven her away? When you made a mockery of our choices?

“If this is about having an heir again—“

Constantine shook his head. “You’ve made your stance clear enough. I’ll give you the time you asked for. But that does not mean the people would as well. You can’t play the newlywed card forever,” his father took a few steps in his direction. “Liam, it may not look like it, but this truly is what’s best for you. For our kingdom.” He placed a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Fairy tales are all well and good, but you must think of what’s best for Cordonia.”

He gestured towards the ballroom. Towards Madeleine.

“Remember, you are Cordonia. And your future is here.”

His father let go of Liam’s shoulder. With long strides, he reached the doors and opened them. With a glance over his shoulder, Constantine imparted a parting blow.

“It wouldn’t have worked out anyway.”

Liam woke up with his left arm asleep. Eyebrows furrowed and vision still foggy from sleep, it took him a moment to see what caused his arm to go numb. What he first thought to be a dark mass turned out to be Cassandra’s head. Liam glanced down and saw a smaller body cradled between them. Somehow during the night, his arm had served as a pillow for both Lucas and Cassandra. Liam smiled, all thought of his discomfort gone. Slowly and with a gentleness he vaguely remembered from his mother, he wrapped his free arm around his family, holding them close. He thought of the memory that came back as a dream. Of his father’s words. He looked at Cassie and Lucas again.

It can work out. I’ll do my hardest to make this work.

I won’t lose my family again.

----

“Does Lucas like castles?”

“Hmm?” Cassie looked up from the article she was editing. And stared. Liam, still looking through his phone, took a seat next to her. That wasn’t what caused all thoughts to flee from her mind. The father of her child and the love of her life, the King of Cordonia was wearing glasses. Cassandra’s brain seemed to have short-circuited.

Liam with glasses. No, Liam wearing glasses. Full rimmed glasses that showed off his eyes. And framed his face. Good god, was he more handsome than he was this morning?

Why is it suddenly warm in here?

“Cassie?”

Cassandra blinked. Her brain scrambled to remember what was happening. Liam’s face seemed closer than before. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. Concern was shining through his eyes.

His eyes, warm and brown and showcased through his glasses. Beautiful.

Focus!

“Are you all right?”

“Huh? Oh! Oh yeah. I’m–I’m fine,” her eyes darted around the room, finally settling on the old grandfather clock against the wall. “Oh, look at the time! It’s almost lunch! I’ll go alert the staff.”

Cassie quickly closed her laptop and set it on the coffee table before moving to stand. Liam laid a hand on her arm.

“Are you sure, you’re all right?”

“Uh yeah. Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she paused long enough to see Liam hesitate.

Oh.

She sat back down, took his hand in hers and smiled, “I’m not getting second thoughts, Liam. I just got, uh, a bit distracted, that’s all.”

Liam let out a breath. And smiled. It took all of Cassie’s willpower not to jump him right then and there. She moved to stand up again, this time dragging Liam with her.

“How about we talk about destinations over Sunday roast?”

Aunt Clara had the staff set up chairs and tables in the solarium. Far more personal and intimate than the rooms they’ve previously eaten in. As she and Liam stepped aside for one of the staff members, Cassie was suddenly hit with the thought that this might be her Auntie’s own little way of fully welcoming Liam in. Cassie smiled.

“So… what were you say—“

“Mommy!” a little blur ran into the room and crashed into her legs. Surprised, Cassie stumbled back. Liam’s hands were suddenly there to support her.

“Careful,” Liam said over her shoulder.

“Sorry Mommy!” their little terror said before zooming out again. The staff, all too used to Lucas’ hijinks, calmly stepped aside, indulgent smiles on their faces.

“Okay, who gave him sugar this time?” Cassie demanded once she straightened up. Briar who had followed into the room shrugged and smiled, looking over her shoulder.

“Who indeed?”

Eyes wide with realisation, Cassie whirled around and glared at Liam.

“You!” she gasped, jabbing a finger at him. Liam quickly stepped back and raised his hands, a placating gesture that she barely noticed. And to think she was swooning earlier!

“I just gave him one cookie — “he quickly closed his mouth when she scowled. Cassie ignored the small burst of satisfaction at the sight.

“You deal with him when he crashes from his sugar high.” She said as she crossed her arms.

Liam nodded quickly, his eyes wide. “Of course. Anything you need.”

Cassie’s heart melted. No! I’m annoyed! I should be annoyed! She opened her mouth, ready to launch into a speech when her aunt’s voice stopped her.

“Am I interrupting?”

Cassie turned her head towards the doorway. From the corner of her eye, she saw Liam do the same.

“Auntie!”

“Not at all, my lady, “Liam answered smoothly. A glance told her he had quickly regained some composure. Shit! I must look like a mess, came her flustered thought.

“Well, if you say so…” her aunt trailed off. She shook her head. “Actually dear, can we pop into the study for a bit? I need to talk to you about something.”

At Cassie’s frown, she smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“I’ll go take care of Lucas,” Liam piped up beside her. He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze and took his leave with a smile to her and her aunt.

Cassie spared a moment to watch him walk away.

“He’s not going anywhere, you know,” her aunt’s words snapped Cassie out of her trance. Clara was wearing a teasing smirk when Cassandra looked at her aunt’s direction.

“I know that,” she mumbled as she turned and walked to her aunt’s side. “Did something happen?”

“In a manner of speaking,” her aunt replied as they walked towards the stairs. She smiled, the reassurance familiar as it was welcome. “I meant it when I said it’s nothing bad.”

Her aunt walked into her study, making a beeline towards one of the display cases near the far wall. Cassie followed, confusion turning into apprehension. She could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. Small, hesitant steps brought her a little closer.

Aunt Clara now stood in front of a familiar set of jewellery. The Edgewater Jewels, one of her family’s sources of pride, glittered in the midmorning sunlight that streamed into the study. Whoever holds the jewels holds the very essence of Edgewater, her aunt used to joke. But Cassie knew that it was a saying that had been passed down from generation to generation. There was a reason most of the jewellery Gran left her were coloured gold and blue. It was part of their heritage. And it was usually entrusted to the heir of the estate. Which also meant heir to the title and all the holdings and responsibilities that come along with the honour.

Cassie felt her eyes widen as she turned to her aunt.

“Tell me that’s not what I think it means.”

Aunt Clara’s smile was small and sad. Like Gran’s all those years ago. But unlike her grandmother, who tucked her head and hidden away during a confrontation, Aunt Clara held her chin high and looked Cassie in the eye. Apprehension caused butterflies to flutter in Cassie’s stomach. Her gaze fell to the jewels, still glinting after centuries of use.

“Can I at least tell you why?”

“Auntie—“

“I know you said you’d think about it. And I respect that, love. And I would have given you all the time that you need, but circumstances rarely go the way we want them to, you know that,” her aunt took a step towards her. Cassie felt rooted on the spot. “Please understand that I am not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do. What I want – what I’ve always wanted, is to protect you and Lucas. And short of prohibiting you to go, this is the best way I can think of.”

Aunt Clara was now standing in front of her. She gently took Cassandra’s hands. “Even if it’s just by name, I’d like you to be the heir to Edgewater.”

----

The Duchy of Krona

“My lady, the media have been sending emails asking for an update on our monarch’s location,” Justin told her as she stepped out of the car. Suppressing the urge to sigh in exasperation, Kiara quickly composed herself and turned to her secretary.

Be careful around that one, Olivia had told her. Since then, she had felt like she was walking on eggshells around her own secretary. It was an inconvenience, but better safe than sorry, as the old saying goes. Keeping her face blank, she took care in choosing her next words.

“Justin, I already told you to take care of that.”

He bobbed his head, making a great show of being contrite. “Yes, my lady. But they’ve been calling and asking nonstop—“

“Then tell them again. The King is currently engaged in an important diplomatic summit in Europe. And this time, remind them that due to the sensitive nature of such events, we can’t broadcast the specifics until His Majesty’s return.”

There was a flash of frustration in Justin’s face before he schooled his features. Frustration and something darker. Beneath her calm façade, Kiara felt cold. Olivia told her she and her network are working on discovering what’s really going on. But their investigation had yielded nothing substantial just yet. At least, not on that front.

It couldn’t come soon enough.

Kiara swallowed her sudden fear and turned away, towards the main estate of House Amaranth. But it gave us an edge over Madeleine.

She set a brisk pace, quickly reaching the entrance and the line of staff members that await her. Justin at her heels. Is that even your real name?

Kiara took another deep breath. No use in engaging in multiple fronts, as Olivia would say. If he is a player, he will soon make his move. But right now, it’s my turn.

Adelaide was the first one to greet her in the sitting room. The usual sparkle that the older woman used to exhibit had dimmed. Like a paper doll, she thought with a pang of pity. Kiara felt for the Duchess. We are not the only ones that Madeleine’s schemes had hurt. A pity it must end this way.

Kiara stood up and offered a curtsy. “Your Grace.”

Adelaide offered her a smile that echoed her old one. “My lady. Despite current circumstances, I must say, I’m glad you came calling. Tea?”

Kiara smiled and nodded. This is my element. I can do this. And I will do this well.

“Yes, please.”

If the duchess seemed off when Kiara arrived, she was downright ashen when they finished their tea. A paper doll that’s about to be set alight. Oh, how I hate that it came to this!

Adelaide’s teacup rattled slightly as she set it on the table. She seemed to sag into her chair. Kiara kept her hands clasped together on her lap. She did not want to know if it trembled.

Silence reigned between them. Kiara could hear the faint ticking of a clock. Unbidden, her gaze went to the window. Summer finally came. But why do I still feel cold? God, I wish Hana’s here.

“If — “Adelaide’s voice cut through the chasm between them. Kiara turned to face the duchess once more. “If what you say is true, my house will be in ruins,” she barked out a laugh. Kiara stared. Its cynical edge was so different from what she had previously known from the older woman. “More than it already is.”

Despite her training, Kiara longed to comfort the older woman. She’s always been kind to me, even before all this happened. Instead of the comforting hand that she wanted to extend, Kiara reached into her purse and pulled out a sealed envelope. Still keeping her silence, she slid it towards Adelaide’s direction.

“I’m afraid that years of evidence proves its validity, Adelaide.”

The Duchess of Krona stared at the envelope in front of her.

“Has the king been told?”

“… not yet.”

“But are you going to tell him?”

Kiara hesitated. “He has to know.”

“I suppose you want me to stop Madeleine’s campaign in exchange for his majesty’s continued ignorance?”

Kiara kept her face carefully blank. It may be diplomacy’s last tool, but I’ve never truly liked blackmail. And it was blackmail, no matter how much they’d like to sugar-coat it.

“Nothing so drastic, Adelaide. I simply ask for a private audience with your daughter.”

“But you’re still going to tell Liam.” Defeat was written on the duchess’ shoulders.

Kiara softened her tone. “He has the right to know, my lady. And this would worsen if he found out that this had been hidden from him,” Kiara hesitated before going off the script that Olivia and Hana helped her write. “Liam is not his father.”

Adelaide looked up and met Kiara’s eyes, hesitation and cautious hope in her gaze. “He’ll see that you and your house have been unwitting accomplices. The fault lies with Godfrey.”

Adelaide hesitated. “And my daughter?”

Kiara sighed; her face the very picture of uncertainty, despite the satisfaction growing in her chest.

“That would depend on whether we meet and talk, Adelaide.”

The duchess straightened in her seat.

“Very well. You’ll have your meeting.” She moved to stand up. “I do hope you succeed. For all our sakes.”

----

The Royal Palace

Hana quickly tossed aside the papers she had been reviewing when she saw her phone light up. Ignoring the quizzical looks that Olivia and Leo sent her, she quickly seized her phone and opened it.

“It’s Kiara!” Her two companions paused in their respective tasks. “She’s in!” Hana announced into the room.

“Good,” Olivia said, a smirk blooming on her face. “And the secretary?”

Hana scanned the message, “she sent him off on another task. She and Madeleine would be alone.”

“What happens now?” Leo asked as he began to pace the room. “Was the bastard there?” he spat out.

“She didn’t say…” Hana trailed off.

“That would mean he’s still in his estates in the UK,” Olivia quickly cut in. Yesterday’s revelation had shaken them to the core, Leo most of all. Despite being her stepson, Leo had spent more time with Eleanor than Liam. She had practically raised him even before she had married Constantine. She was the woman he recognised as his mother. And to find that her killer had walked free for years… Katie and Olivia had barely stopped him from going after Godfrey. To say the last twenty-four hours had been fraught would be an understatement.

The older Rys grunted in acknowledgement before starting another round of agitated pacing. Like a lion in a cage, she thought before turning her attention back to Olivia.

“Should we tell Liam now?” she asked softly.

“We should have told him as soon as we confirmed it,” Leo grumbled before Olivia answered her.

“And we will tell him. Preferably in person,” Olivia retorted. Hana opened her mouth to agree with the duchess when her phone rang again. She stared at the screen, apprehension filling her.

“It’s Liam,” she announced. Olivia and Leo froze.

“Answer it, Hana,” Leo said urgently. The unanswered question hung in the air. Does he know?

“Put it on speaker,” Olivia quickly added.

With fingers that trembled slightly, she answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hana!” Liam’s voice seemed to cement them in place. Faintly, they could hear a child’s laughter in the background. The three of them looked at each other, wide-eyed and on the verge of panic. Her heart was beating so fast, she was half afraid it would burst out of her chest. For one brief moment, Hana scrambled for a scrap of composure.

She managed a soft “Your Majesty” before another voice snapped her out of the stupor she was falling into.

“… Lucas!”

Hana straightened. “Was that—?”

“Hmm? Oh yes! That was Cassie. Would you like to say hi?”

“Oh! Oh, um—“she cast another wide-eyed look around the room, their conversation before weighing on them. Olivia hesitated, but Leo took a step forward. Before either of them managed a word, Liam’s voice unknowingly interrupted them.

“Lucas, don’t—“Hana and the others could just make out the sound of a splash. A scuffling sound followed.

“Liam?” Confusion mixed with the apprehension inside her.

There was a pause. The three of them barely breathed.

“Hana, are you still there?” Liam’s voice sounded harried this time. “I’m so sorry, but I have to cut this short. Cassie’s got Lucas inside. Maybe you two can talk some other time? Maybe later?”

“Oh! That’s fine. What happened? If I might ask.”

Liam’s voice was tinged with amusement when he answered, “He crashed his bike into the lake.”

Hana smiled.

“That’s not why I called though,” Hana suddenly felt cold. All too aware of the vacant seat that Kiara used to occupy. Does he know? The anxious thought circled her mind once more. And judging by the way Olivia and Leo hung on Liam’s next words, she wasn’t the only one.

How do you tell one of your closest friends that you’ve uncovered the culprit behind his mother’s death?

“Can you book a flight to London tomorrow? Cassie and I need your expertise on something.”

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Olivia insisted. Hana completely agrees with her. Across the table, with arms crossed and agitated, Leo glared at the both of them.

“He’s my brother,” Leo insisted. “What we found here should come from me, Olivia. You know that.”

“For the last time, I’m not saying you can’t tell Liam, I’m saying you can’t go!” Olivia snapped as she stood up. Hana could feel a headache forming around her temples.

“Besides, we don’t know what Liam and Cassandra need me for,” Hana added before her companion’s agreement turned into a shouting match.

“That’s obvious, he’s planning on bringing her and my nephew back here.”

“You don’t know that,” Hana countered, taking care to soften her tone. The last thing she needs is for this to escalate.

Olivia shook her head, “He’s got a point.” Leo opened his mouth, intent on driving his point home and getting his way. Olivia fixed him with a glare and added, “Which is why Hana has to go.”

“Olivia—“

“No.”

“But—“

“We need you here,” Olivia went on. “Abdicated or not, you’re the last adult Rys in the palace. You lend some legitimacy over our orders, so unless you want to tell your brother how you’ve disregarded his instructions, you will stay here.”

Leo scowled. He glanced at Hana, silently asking for support. Hana pursed her lips and shook her head. He slumped in his seat.

“Besides, Rashad’s also going on a business trip. People won’t think it’s strange that I boarded a plane with him.”

Leo scowled as he looked out the window.

Hana and Olivia shared a glance, a question between them. A moment passed, and Olivia shrugged. My move then. She glanced at Leo’s still sullen form. Compromise it is.

“I won’t tell Liam until you could, Leo. I promise.”

----

Leo kept looking through the window even after Hana and Olivia had left. Yesterday’s events played on a loop in his mind. It’s been decades, I thought I’d gotten over this.

But Leo could still remember the sinking feeling of watching the woman he’d known as his mother gasp for breath. Could still recall the frantic rush to her side, the way her hands had gone limp, the flashing lights of the ambulance, the cold sterile hospital. He could still remember, with frightening clarity, how Liam, still a little kid really, looked so lost when the doctors announced that there was nothing they could do. The way his little brother curled up in his arms, shaking and sobbing when it finally sunk in. The funeral and the empty years; years that Eleanor Rys should have lived if not for some heartless bastard and an innocent little goblet.

And to find that the bastard who did this to her was under their noses this whole time? That he had been one of Constantine’s cronies? Rage could hardly describe what Leo had felt. He wanted to get out there and catch him. Make him pay for what he did.

Katie had been nearly reduced to tears before he had agreed to stay and wait. Leo had agreed reluctantly, remembering his past sins. But his urge to do something, anything at all, remains bubbling under the surface, just waiting for the smallest push. Liam’s phone call had been the prime opportunity. But Olivia’s threat and his past regrets kept him again. Liam missed four years of his son’s life while he had gallivanted around the world. The least he can do is stay in Cordonia and do what Liam wanted them to do.

This doesn’t mean I still can’t make Godfrey pay. I’ll –

His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Before he could stand up and open it, Bertrand Beaumont had stepped inside the room, head held high and nose in the air. Leo resisted the urge to correct his posture.

“Your—“

“Bertrand, please. Don’t call me that.”

“Oh. Of course.”

The older man nodded and adjusted his cuff. Posture perfect and correct. Leave it to Bertrand to disguise awkwardness with a dignified response.

“I came here as fast as I could,” Bertrand said as he stepped into the room. Remembering the discreet conversation he had with Liam about the Beaumont’s finances, Leo kept silent. Bertrand dislikes showing weakness, especially among his peers.

“You’d want to see Maxwell then?”

At Bertrand’s nod, Leo stood up and walked towards one of his oldest friends. He clasped Bertrand’s shoulder and tried to give him a reassuring smile. It didn’t seem to work. Leo tried not to take it personally.

“Let’s go then,” Leo paused just beyond the threshold. “Although, word of advice? Go easy on him.”

Leo wants nothing more than to find Godfrey and make him pay, but he’ll be damned if he lets Liam down again.

“Let me get this straight, you knew where Lady Savannah was this whole time and you didn’t tell me?” Standing with his back against the wall, Leo heaved a sigh. What part of go easy did you not understand Bertie?

Maxwell opened his mouth once more to answer his brother and winced as he did so. Leo saw him rub his bruised jaw. Bertrand, still pacing and getting red in the face, did not stop his tirade to listen. “What on earth possessed you to do such a thing? Of all the—”

Leo thinks he saw the moment Maxwell snapped. The younger man stood, squared his shoulders, and whirled around to face his brother.

“I had to help her, Bertrand! She was pregnant with my nephew!”

Leo suppressed the urge to whistle. I really shouldn’t be part of this conversation. He glanced at the closed door behind Bertrand. But I can’t walk out without disturbing these two.

“I—your what?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bertie so speechless! Maxwell, emboldened by his brother’s response, continued.

“Savannah was pregnant with your child when she ran away. She said you rejected her!”

“I — “Bertrand seemed to have completely lost his composure. He reached out and clutched the back of the chaise lounge. His knuckles were white.

I really shouldn’t be here…

Leo looked away from the brothers. The late afternoon sunlight illuminated the courtyard below. He felt a smile creep onto his face. The twins were out and about. Sabrina, his eldest by a whole ten minutes, was busy drawing the various blossoms in the flower beds. Mother loved those flowers too…

Leo shook his head, half hoping the physical act would also shake off his thoughts. He immediately sought his youngest, a reflex he had developed as soon as they started toddling around. Samantha was bending over the fountain, no doubt looking at the pennies on the bottom. He wanted to name them after Eleanor, but he knew that Liam deserved that honour. Besides, they are named after her, in a way. Middle names are the same thing, right?

A sudden noise interrupted his thoughts. He turned to look at the Brothers Beaumont again. Bertrand was sitting in the lounge. Maxwell looked uncertain.

Leo opened his mouth to suggest drinks, but a knock interrupted him. All three of them turned toward the sound.

Leo stepped forward.

“Come in.”

The door opened and a woman wearing a nondescript suit poked her head in. It took a moment for Leo to put a name to the face.

“Agent Mara, what is it?”

“Sir, someone’s looking for you at the gates. She said you were expecting her.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Leo stepped forward. At the corner of his eye, he could see Bertrand and Maxwell carefully turn around, giving him as much privacy as the room could afford. Gratitude for the brothers bubbled in his chest.

“Who is it?”

Mara hesitated.

“Well?”

“She-she told us her name was Cordelia, sir. Cordelia Foredale.”

----

East Wing, the Royal Palace

“How’re your knuckles?”

Drake grunted as Savannah, who did not wait for his answer, grabbed his right hand and inspected his yellowing bruise.

“Are you talking to me now?” he said, immediately regretting his words. Savannah had all but ignored him after he punched Maxwell. A glare was the answer he received. Drake sighed.

He can’t help but feel like everyone was blaming him for one thing or another. Bastien was ignoring his calls, a sure sign that the older man was annoyed at him, while Olivia was pissed at him (nothing new but this one was on him, he’ll readily admit that). He knew he abandoned his assigned duties, so their reaction was a bitter pill that he had to swallow.

Hana and Kiara were keeping their distance, but he knew that they sided with Maxwell, and Leo’s accusing stare was directed at him and Maxwell both. So he can live with that. What stings the most was that Savannah was mad at him and his nephew (he has a nephew!) was wary around him.

And Liam’s out of the country, probably getting cosy with Angeles…

The pain in his knuckles snapped him from his thoughts. Drake was almost glad for it.

There’s a very big chance that Cassandra will come back into their lives. Drake doesn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, the very thought of her sent tingles down his spine (he ignored them as he had four years ago), and on the other, she’s probably coming back with Liam. Try as he might, that old, buried and suppressed pangs of jealousy had reared its ugly head once more.

There was a mention of a little boy too. Their boy, if he got that right. Drake refused to acknowledge the knot of emotions he felt at the thought.

I could really use a drink right now.

“Done.” In a flash, Savannah had stood up and walked away from him. Drake could make out Bartie’s head as it poked out of an open doorway.

He inspected the bandage on his hand.

“Thanks, sis,” he said into the empty room.

----

Meanwhile, in Fydelia

To an outsider’s perspective, it did not look like a stand-off. Just two ladies having tea on a balcony. Sophistication at its finest. From a young age, they have been taught how to disguise negotiations as pleasant small talk. How silence can answer a question as well as any given answer. They had been taught how to be graceful swans on the outside, never letting slip the machinations that lurked underneath their perfect façade.

A pale delicate hand calmly picked up her teacup, raised it to her scarlet stained lips and took a dainty sip. Kiara’s well-trained eyes observed the movement and catalogued it in her mind. It seemed like her hostess would insist on some juvenile power play right off the bat. Kiara took in Madeleine’s demeanour; shoulders back and chin lifted. Smug despite her courtly mask.

She thinks, because I came to her first, that she has the upper hand, Kiara thought, amused at the thought. Whatever pity she might have felt for the mother, unfortunately, did not extend to the daughter. Adelaide might have been an unwitting victim in this scenario, but we all knew that Madeleine’s actions are her own. She knew what she was doing from the start. And for whatever reason, she made herself believe that she can win in this hopeless endeavour. Kiara took another moment to study the Countess by taking a sip of her own tea. Let Madeleine think she has me on the ropes. What exactly were you hoping to accomplish from all of this?

“I do hope the tea is to your liking, Lady Kiara. I seem to recall you favour the more traditional favours?”

“The tea and the service is, as always, perfectly adequate, my lady,” Kiara demurred, taking silent satisfaction with the way Madeleine’s lips twisted at the insult. Ever the perfectionist.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I find myself tired of courtly games lately,” Madeleine said, annoyance clear in her eyes. Whatever happened to patience Madeleine? Kiara’s quite certain that amusement was clear in her eyes.

“Well?” Madeleine snapped. For a moment, Kiara remembered all those uncertain hours under her thumb. Of all the times the woman before took genuine pleasure at breaking Hana apart at the seams. You’ll never see so much as the shine off the crown if I had anything to say about it.

Kiara raised an eyebrow. Madeleine’s own sculpted eyebrows started to furrow. What? Did you think I came all this way to hand you your imagined victory?

“I came to do you a favour actually,” Kiara answered coolly.

Madeleine scoffed. “And what favour is that exactly? From where I’m standing, you and yours are the ones who need a favour,” Madeleine barred her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Has the King gotten so desperate that he sent one of his lackeys to grovel at my feet?” She leaned back, comfortably rearranging herself on her chair, the picture of smug satisfaction. “Well, tell him, he has to be the one doing the grovelling. The satisfaction would be sweeter when I personally reject it.”

Kiara calmly sipped her tea, letting Madeleine have her brief moment of glory. Well, a supposed moment of glory, she amended in her head.

A moment passed. Uncertainty entered Madeleine’s eyes.

“Are you done?” Kiara asked calmly. My turn.

Madeleine opened her mouth to retort, but Kiara did not give her a chance.

“If you want the continued existence of your House and holdings, you will cease this meaningless smear campaign at once.”

Anger flashed across Madeleine’s features. She opened her mouth once more. Kiara forged on, smoothly reaching into her bag and taking the same envelope that she had presented to Adelaide mere hours ago. She laid it on the table with a flourish.

“And what’s this?” Madeleine asked, her anger temporarily curbed.

“Why don’t you take a peak?”

“If this is some hare-brained scheme of Liam’s—“

“Just read the contents, Madeleine,” Kiara said, her voice curt.

The countess snatched the envelope up. Her face paled at what she read. Madeleine’s porcelain hands held a small tremble when she set it down again.

“You have already hurt your standing in the nobility’s eyes when you started this campaign. And while free speech is a right that is encouraged in this kingdom, I doubt you’ll be thrilled if we use that self-same right to reveal what your father did to Queen Eleanor all those years ago. Treason is a heavier stain on one’s reputation than mere rumours, is it not?”

Madeleine did not answer. Her eyes were still fixed on the envelope’s contents.

Kiara allowed herself a small smile, “luckily the king and his brother are generous enough to give you a warning.” She leaned forward, now on the offence. “But let me make myself clear. Continue in this ridiculous charade and the court, not to mention the entire world, will know just how many skeletons your father hides.”

“I had nothing to do with this!” Madeleine interjected.

“Perhaps,” Kiara allowed. “But with your well-known outbursts and the campaign, do you think the world will care?”

“They will if they know what’s good for them. The media—“

“Has grown tired of you,” Kiara finished. “After all, all you’ve ever given them are rumours. Were you ever planning on following the story through? Or did you just expect the media to fawn and fall at your feet like when you were still on top?”

“I—“

Now for my gambit.

“Face it, Madeleine. You’ve lost your crown. Do you really want the whole world to see you lose your dignity and your House?”

Green eyes set in a paper pale face stared at her. And for the first time since meeting her, Kiara had the genuine pleasure of seeing Madeleine speechless.

“And we don’t want that, do we? After all, this would mean the total collapse of House Amaranth. All those centuries of prestige reduced to mere rubble by you.”

“Now see here—“

“I really don’t think you have any bargaining chip left, my lady,” Kiara directed a smile at Madeleine’s direction.

“W-what do you want from me?” Madeleine asked, voice cracking. Her whole body was shaking. A stone statue crumbling before Kiara’s eyes.

“I tire of this courtly game,” Kiara countered. Madeleine flinched. “I think you know exactly what we want, Madeleine. Redact your statements, issue a formal apology and stop your hopeless campaign once and for all.”

“My reputation—“

“Is already in shambles. Imagine what would happen if this got out.”

Kiara stood up, smoothly plucking the folder from Madeleine’s hands.

“My people will be in touch,” she said as she walked out. She paused at the entrance of the balcony. “See? I am doing you a favour.”

She spared a moment to glance at her fallen opponent. Madeleine barely moved, except for a tiny nod. Her head barely moved, but it was enough. She had accepted the deal. Defeat seemed to be settling on the Countess’ shoulders. Kiara whirled around, a smile tugging at her face.

Checkmate.

----

The Royal Palace

Leo strode through one of the palace’s corridors, Agent Mara a step behind. Questions without answers whirled round and round in his head. Why here? Why now? What now? What does she want?

Leo scowled as he entered the lower levels of the palace. Old stone, centuries-old and cool to the touch, replaced the gilt and glamour of the upper levels. Leo repressed a shiver. It was always cool down here, and it will get colder the farther they descend. Harsh fluorescent lights replaced the torches used centuries ago, but they remain along the walls, a reminder of the Palace’s real age. It was older than it looked.

Generations of constant rebuilding had changed the façade of the one above ground. It is only when you get down to the lower levels, to the underbelly, that you remember that the Palace stands where an old medieval keep once stood. There had even been stories, mere fancy really, that Kenna Rys, their mythical ancestor, had once used the old keep as a base during one war or another. Liam’s always the one who paid attention to those.

At the thought of his brother, Leo’s mood turned sombre, more contemplative.

First, we discover Constantine’s secrets, then Liam finds out he has a long-lost son, then this whole business between Drake and Maxwell, I find out fucking Godfrey’s behind Mother’s death and now this? It’s barely been a month!

Another agent greeted them when they reached the end of a corridor. Leo knew from growing up in the palace that they had her inside an interrogation room. Leo could feel his heart beating hard. He rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants before taking a deep breath and nodding to one of the agents.

They opened the door.

Leo gulped.

He took a tentative step. And then another.

He was standing at the threshold.

Taking another deep breath, he squared his shoulders and stepped inside.

Leo had been told from a young age that he looked like his mother. That the only thing he had inherited from his father was his blue eyes.

Beyond hazy recollections that were carelessly dismissed in favour of more fond memories of Eleanor and baby Liam, Leo had next to no memory of what his birth mother looked like. When he met her again after twenty-odd years, her hair was more grey than blonde, her hazel eyes were surrounded by crows feet that made him wonder if she had been happier during the years she kept away compared to the years she had spent with him and his father. She had constantly looked down when he met her again, all those years ago. Had barely raised neither eyes nor voice when he had proclaimed a dead woman to be the mother he preferred. She had just nodded and asked in a small voice to see the occasional picture of him and the twins. Aside from lukewarm emails and the occasional promised picture, she had stayed away, as she had for most of his life. Leo preferred it that way, if he was being honest with himself.

After meeting with Clara Harper, Leo could see some faint echo, the barest hint of resemblance on their features. Unlike his, no – their — distant cousin, Cordelia held none of the iron spine that defined his—their – relative. If Clara was grace, poise and eloquence, able to command a room, her distant family member was the silent one.

But, Leo conceded, she had been high spirited once. During their father’s social season. She had enough charm and energy once. At least enough to secure her place as Constantine’s bride.

Looking at the woman sitting opposite him, Leo couldn’t help but wonder if Constantine was the reason Cordelia retreated into herself. He won’t be surprised if that was the case.

His birth mother rose from her seat when she saw him enter the room. She was a short woman. The few pictures he saw growing up featured a delicate, petite woman, more doll than human. A perfect accessory for this father to dangle on his arms. Now, she seemed to fold into herself, as if trying to make herself smaller.

“Leo,” she breathed. “You came.” A tentative smile bloomed on her face. There was a touch of relief in the curve of her lips.

“I did,” Leo stepped further into the room. “I wasn’t expecting you’d come here.” Wasn’t expecting you’d want to come back.

“Yes – well, the email you sent me— “she abruptly stopped. Her eyes darted around the room. Wary and watchful. Fearful too, Leo saw with a pang. Damn you, old man.

“It’s fine,” Leo assured her. “We’re safe here.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that,” she muttered. “Can we talk somewhere more open? I don’t do so well underground.”

“I— “Leo furrowed his eyebrows. Cordelia had no problems underground, nor was she claustrophobic. “All right.”

They ended up on the banks of the little lake, just past the gardens that Eleanor so loved. It somehow felt wrong to take her to the place that Leo had always associated with Eleanor.

The late afternoon sun was on its way to twilight, but there was still enough light that the path lights hadn’t been lit yet.

He glanced at his birth mother. Silence mixed with awkwardness hung in the air between them. He cleared his throat.

“You aren’t really claustrophobic are you?”

She shook her head.

“So… why exactly—“

“I thought it would be safer this way,” she answered in a rush, her voice coming out stronger than it had before.

Suspicion rose within Leo.

“Why?”

“You never know who’s listening,” she said lightly, expression turning pleasant. “Will you walk with me? Just around the lake.”

“Who would want to listen?” Leo asked even as he walked along with her. “We’re at the heart of the palace. That was the safest we can be.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?”

“I — “Leo thought of Kiara’s secretary.

Cordelia nodded, interpreting his expression.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here though.”

“I thought it would be safer to talk in person. Emails and phone calls can be easily traced.”

“Right,” Leo mumbled. He glanced at Cordelia again. “We –uh – found Edgewater on our own…” he trailed off.

Cordelia smiled, “I know.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed.

“I saw the pictures from the state dinner. It’s been years but I still know how Cousin Clara looked like.”

“Oh.”

“I hope she’s well?”

“Last I saw her, yeah,” Leo looked around. The shadows were getting longer. “She found your diary, by the way.”

Cordelia startled, “She did?”

Leo nodded then added, “Liam and I read it.”

“So… you know.”

“Is that why you came here?”

She hesitated, but she nodded.

“Is that why you left?”

“Among other things.”

“Right.”

“How did he manage it, by the way?”

“Manage what?”

Leo shrugged, “all of it? How did people not know what was happening?”

“Simple,” Cordelia said as she looked up. “Panem et circenses. The people were placated because he provided them with bread and entertainment. Constantine spearheaded casinos, increased the economy, and kept all the bloodstains behind closed doors. That was his greatest genius, really.”

“And no one noticed?”

“He was quick to silence those who did.”

A moment passed. They have reached the other end of the lake now. Cordelia had stopped walking. Leo turned to face her. The afternoon had finally fallen into twilight.

“Speaking of, did you come across the Severus clan when you read it?”

“Is that the one where he ordered a whole line killed?”

“… yes.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“There’s a group that formed right after you were born. They called themselves The Sons of Earth. Have you heard of them?” At the shake of Leo’s head, she continued. “I’m not surprised. They were just starting out when I left.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Cordelia turned and looked Leo in the eye, “because I fear that Constantine’s actions have caught up with us all.”

----

Edgewater the next day

A three-hour flight and an uneasy night spent in London, Hana was finally afforded her first glimpse of Edgewater. Her research into the Countess’ family revealed that the estate had been in their family for almost as long as their line had existed. A part of her relished the chance to visit a historical site with such deep and tangible roots (their collection of art and other artefacts alone would be enormous! Hana felt giddy just thinking about it). Another part was almost jumping up and down in excitement at the thought of seeing her first true friend once more. It was almost enough to drown the small part of her that wonders whether Liam already knew the truth. The presence of Bastien at the entrance did not help soothe her nerves.

The car slowed to a stop. Bastien walked over and opened the car door, offering a hand as he did so. Hana hesitated for a moment, doubts swirling around her mind, before taking Bastien’s hand and stepping out of the car.

One of the staff members must have been waiting on the other side of the doors as it swung open when she had finally righted herself. She could make out a line of staff through the doorway. Her promise to Leo rang in her mind once more.

With one final glance around the lush grounds and the impressive estate (Georgian, she noted with interest), Hana took a deep breath and stepped forward, through the threshold and into Edgewater.

Hana would be the first to admit that she had always viewed Cassandra through rose-tinted lenses. She was Hana’s first true friend, the woman who helped her stand up for herself. Cassie was the adventurous sister she had always wanted. And for a few short months, they had been sisters in all but blood.

Now, four years and a whole other set of separate experiences later, Hana once again meets Cassandra. Her hair’s shorter, Hana thought absently. The face that stared back at her was slightly more mature than the one she remembered. Hana only had the chance to observe those things as Cassandra, who spotted her as soon as she entered, broke into a smile and all but bounded over to give Hana a big hug. Hana hugged her tightly back, a smile blooming on her own face. It was the reunion that she had envisioned all these years.

“Hana! I missed you so much!”

“Oh, Cassie! I missed you too!”

Lucas may look like the spitting image of his father, but Hana can’t help but see the Cassie in him. He was an inquisitive child, bursting with questions and with enough energy to drive Hana dizzy after a time.

He had been a little hesitant when they had finally been introduced. He had been head peeking behind Liam’s legs when Cassie and Hana had reunited (At last! After four long years!) but he had warmed up to her when Cassie introduced her as a dear friend.

“Do you like cookies?” the little boy (the little prince!) asked Hana during a rare moment of silence. He stared at her with Liam’s eyes and with Cassie’s smile. The perfect little blend of her two dearest friends. She thought of the discoveries done in Cordonia, both before and after he arrived in their lives. Her heart went out to this little boy. Your grandfather’s actions have hurt so many. He unknowingly hurt you too…

“I – yes, I like cookies.”

He beamed at her, and Hana returned it with a smile of her own. How could she not?

“Me too!” he held out a chocolate chip cookie with a noticeable bite at its side. “D’you want one?”

Despite the apprehension that took root inside her, Hana let out a laugh.

“I’d like that very much.”

“So you’re telling me—“

Hana nodded. Cassie clapped both hands to her mouth as she gasped.

“Hana!” she squealed.

Hana blushed and quickly hushed Cassandra while she looked around the empty garden.

“But this is huge!” Cassie protested.

“It’s not a big deal,” Hana said softly, almost mumbling.

“But you and Kiara!”

Hana smiled despite herself.

“Oh, you got it bad,” Cassie teased.

Hana suppressed a snort. “Like you’re one to talk.”

Cassie laughed, loud and whole-bodied. Hana’s restraint lasted for one second before she gave in and joined the laughter.

A throat clearing behind them put a stop to their revelry. They both whirled around to see Liam smiling at them both.

“Is he down?” Cassie asked.

“After putting up a good fight, yes.”

Cassie raised her eyebrows, her smile quickly turning into a smirk. “You didn’t bribe him, did you?”

Liam scoffed, his smile turning bigger, “I’ve been schooled in diplomacy since birth, Cassie. I don’t need to resort to bribery just to get my son to take a nap.”

Cassie raised an eyebrow, “uh-huh…”

Now this feels familiar, Hana thought, amused.

“… fine. He will definitely ask to sleep in my room later. I might have promised to build a pillow fort with him.”

Cassie laughed, and Hana couldn’t help but join in. The day was devoid of the heavy clouds one usually associates with London. There was a pleasant breeze, bringing with it the perfume of the blossoms scattered about the garden. Halcyon days, Hana thought with a heavy feeling in her stomach. So rare and so brief. And I might have brought disaster with me…

----

Edgewater, night time

Aunt Clara’s office was bathed in shadows. The moon, barely visible over the top of the trees, did not offer much in the way of illumination. Not tonight, anyway. The fireplace was cold and empty, and only a couple of lamps kept total darkness at bay. Despite the hindrances that the dark might have presented, Cassandra was able to navigate her way through the room.

A few portraits of their ancestors were displayed on the walls; Auntie always liked landscapes better. Cassandra could almost feel the weight of their stares. It made the humid air feel heavier than it should be.

Her eyes landed on the jewels. It had been taken out of the display box for its cleaning. Now they were placed on the desk, in a bed of soft cloth, under the watchful eyes of one Clara Mills-Sinclaire. Her portrait looked nothing like her Aunt Clara, of course, but the way they lifted their chin and stared defiantly at the world echoed each other. Nestled on her ancestor’s head was the same tiara on the desk before her.

Cassie looked down at the jewels once more. Such a small thing, to carry so much history. Cassandra looked up at the portrait again. You didn’t run when the responsibility fell on you. She thought of her son, asleep and snug in his father’s arms. Cassandra wants more nights like that. Her family together. She eyed the jewels again, resolve building itself inside her. I don’t want to run anymore.

With trembling hands, she hesitantly reached for the tiara. Carefully, feeling the weight of her ancestors on her, she lifted the tiara and slowly, delicately placed it on her head. It was lighter than she had expected. Moments passed, and she chanced a look at a nearby mirror. Cassie stared. The tiara had fit her perfectly.

----

Cordonia the next day

Still flush from her victory over Madeleine, Kiara strode through the corridors that led to her office. That’s one obstacle out of the way. Although, I suspect Liam would want a chat with Adelaide…

A glance towards her secretary’s desk told her that Justin, or whatever his name actually is, hasn’t arrived yet. The morning sunlight made the room glow. Outside, the sky was clear, and she had removed a thorn on their side. Things are looking up and Hana’s set to come back with Liam and Lady Cassandra in the evening. Perhaps they will bring their son with them…

With a smile, Kiara opened the door to the office.

She froze.

Leaning over her desk, papers and other state documents in hand, was her secretary. He looked up as she entered, face twisted in a snarl.

For a moment they stood still, surprise making them freeze in place.

Kiara stood still, rooted on the spot, heart thundering in her chest. Justin held her gaze, something dark and sinister in his eyes.

Then time seemed to move once more, faster than it usually is.

Kiara tried to step backwards, perhaps hoping to gain more ground before the predator pounced.

But Justin was faster.

In a flash, he had leapt across the table, scattering papers and other knick-knacks as he did so. Kiara faintly heard a glass scatter on the floor.

Before she could do more than stumble back, Justin was on her.

Something flashed silver before pain erupted on her side. Something heavy collided with her head.

The world seemed to blur. Sound seemed to fade.

The last thing she saw before her face met the floor was a pair of angry dark eyes, and a smile that resembled a snarl.

----

Gatwick Airport, England

The walls were too white. The room was too bright. Liam resisted the urge to pace. A hand on his back made him tense. A whiff of jasmine caught his attention.

Tension bled out of his body. Her arms wrap around him. He could feel her warmth on his back. Her head barely reached his shoulders.

“Breathe, Liam.”

He did as she asked. He’ll always do as she asked.

He gently turned around and wrapped his own arms around her, resting his cheek on the top of her head. For a moment the world seemed to quiet down.

“Better?”

Liam leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Cassandra’s lips.

“Much.”

They both looked up as the PA announced their flight was ready. Reluctantly, they untangled themselves from each other. Liam scooped up his son’s sleepy form from one of the lounge chairs. His movement caused Hana to wake up from the nap Cassie suggested. He glanced around the private lounge. All their bags were already on the royal jet.

His eyes landed on Cassandra. He saw her spare one last look through the lounge’s window, a faraway look in her eyes. She pocketed her phone, grasped her trusty messenger bag (the one she had since before they met) and took a deep breath.

Liam crossed the distance between them and reached for her hand. She took it and laced their fingers together.

With one hand holding the love of his life and the other supporting his sleeping son, Liam walked towards the boarding gates.

----

The Dowager Queen

The setting sun caused shadows to stretch across the tarmac. Inside the tinted limousine, the Queen Mother heaved a sigh. The day had been taken a turn that none of them had expected. At least Liam’s finally coming back.

To be honest, Regina was a bit hurt that Liam had not deigned to inform her he was travelling out of the country or the reason behind it. Even an informal email would have done. Or any form of message really, however impersonal it may have looked. She was probably the last person to find out he had gone. I can’t say I can fault him for that. Not after years of passive non-action from my end.

But still…

Regina firmly reigned her thoughts in. She will take what she can salvage from their relationship. After all, she got along with Liam better than she did with Leo. She already made the mistake of being cold towards Katie when they first met and that resulted in her not meeting her grandchildren when they were born. She won’t make the same mistake this time.

But then again, it helps that Liam chose a more competent lady than Leo, circumstances aside. Lady Cassandra could have done well in court, had she stayed all those years ago. Had Constantine not let his paranoia rule him.

No matter. I’ll gladly welcome Liam’s long-lost son and his lady love. It’s the least she can do, really. Besides, Regina liked the idea of more grandchildren. Thank goodness Leo was more flexible in that matter. She had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with his twin daughters.

Regina smiled. Such precocious children! She had already made plans to introduce darling Sabrina to Joelle. Such talent should be encouraged and fostered. And from what she and her staff had gathered from the English Ambassador, Liam’s son – Lucas — was also a bright boy. Regina looks forward to meeting him in person this time.

The shadows lengthened as the sun sunk lower. The royal jet should be near now. Shadows and the twilight had always reminded her of her late husband. Shadows especially.

Oh Connie, so much has been lost because you were afraid. We could have seen our grandchildren grow up together. Your son would have had more time with his own son.

Four years ago

Constantine had been more stubborn than usual. It was so unlike him to get worked up on courtly intrigue, since he usually left such things under her purview.

“But the media’s focused on the engagement right now. I don’t see any harm in letting her come back. It was a misunderstanding at most. I’ll even take her under my wing—“

“No.”

“But Liam—“

“Would be better off if he focused on his own engagement tour. Bringing her back would only distract him.”

She looked at her husband in astonishment, “have you seen how he is right now? Constantine, your son is falling apart! Bringing Lady Cassandra back would do him good. It’s not as if they can change the engagement now—“

Constantine slammed his fist on the desk. Regina jumped, then froze. His eyes were cold with a fury that she had only heard of years ago. Fear churned inside her.

“I said no, Regina! And that is final!”

She had not tried to change his mind since. Not even when she saw how Liam struggled with juggling the crown and his own heartache. And while a part of her felt reassured that Madeleine was chosen as queen once more, it is becoming quickly overshadowed by concern as she watched cracks appear on Liam’s mask. She had tried to offer whatever comfort Liam would accept from her. It helped salvage her relationship with her stepson.

It did not help her relationship with her husband on the other hand.

But she dared not oppose Constantine too much. She knew the fate of his previous wives all too well. And she won’t be any help to Liam or to anybody if she joined that exclusive club. She knew what she married, after all. Or at least some part of it. She dared not look further, dared not put a toe out of line. Scared to peer into the shadow and see what lurked within.

The approaching jet snapped Regina from her musing. She smiled. As the jet landed, and the doors opened and she stepped out of the car, Regina resolves that she’ll do better this time. After all, this is a chance she dared not waste.

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