#also he and i share a birth month this is great i knew that was probably why i like him. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strang3lov3 · 11 months

Text

A Learning Process

Extra Soft!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Your whole life, everyone told you motherhood would come easy. So far, it has not. You struggle to connect with your baby boy, Francis. You struggle to console him, to breastfeed him, everything. Joel has pretty much taken care of your son by himself in the two months since you gave birth. Today is your first day alone with your baby boy, and it ends in disaster. Does Joel also think you’re a failure of a mother? Takes place in Jackson, sometime after TLOU

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: emotional, emotional breakdown, talks of giving birth, breastfeeding, dirty diapers, taking a bath with Joel, pet names, vulnerable reader, postpartum depression and anxiety, undefined loving relationship with Joel

A/N: Just thought of this story, thought you could all use some sweet soft Joel :)

Edit: forgot to add this is loosely based on this request from @guiltgoreglory !!!

If you like this story, please leave me a comment or reblog telling me what you think!!🩷🩷

Masterlist

It’s a quiet December morning, the sunlight is just beginning to dance and sparkle on the snow outside. You’re in an old rocking chair Maria gifted you, holding your baby boy close to your chest. He’s quiet for once, usually he’s fussy when you hold him. You’re morose, wondering if it was the right choice to bring him into this world, with you as his mother.

His name is Francis. You gave birth to him two months ago in October.

It was a chilly April day when you realized you were late, not having a period since January. In a panic, you called Joel into your shared bedroom.

Those two words hit him like a ton of bricks. “I’m late,” you whispered, eyes full of worry and tears. Your words were bitter, tasting like the bile on your tongue.

“You’re what?”

“I think I’m pregnant, Joel,”

Joel sat down on the bed with you, his head spinning. He was quiet, too quiet. But not angry like you feared he would be.

Jackson was a great place to raise a child, but Jackson was still a town on Earth, which for the past twenty-odd years, has been overtaken by a brain-controlling fungus. There was no guarantee that having a baby in Jackson would be 100% risk free.

“But we’ll take care of it. I want you to come to the doctor with me tomorrow,” you started. “And we’ll deal with–”

“No,” Joel interrupted. He looked at you with his big brown eyes, so sad and worrisome. “I can’t let you do that. Not safe.”

Abortion is what he was referring to. It’s not that Joel felt abortion was wrong in any sense, he was the last person on Earth who had any right to discuss right and wrong. Abortion was risky, even in the safety of Jackson. And he couldn’t risk letting you get hurt, or worse. He was right, and you knew it. You didn’t need any convincing. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I don’t know that I’m ready to be a mom, Joel,” you breathed shakily. “I can’t do this.”

He held your hand in his own, so big and calloused from years of backbreaking work. “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he whispered. “You didn’t get into this all by yourself.”

It was true. Joel was the one who did this to you, anyway. He was your person, or whatever you could call him. Not really your lover, not officially at least. He was just your guy, your companion in everything. And you slept together. It just was a one time, two time, okay maybe all the time kind of thing.

Contraception wasn’t easy to come by. If you were lucky enough to come by some condoms, they were most definitely expired and probably useless. You’d be better off with the pull out method, which was never that great of a birth control method.

You and Joel would often forgo pulling out, getting too caught up in the heat of the moment. You loved each others’ bodies passionately. And well, your bodies did what human bodies tend to do. They created a baby.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Since giving birth to Francis in October, Joel had taken on the role of sole caretaker to your baby boy. It’s not what you had planned, exactly. It’s kind of just how it happened.

Joel did his best to teach you how to swaddle Francis, but you could never quite get it right. He’d flail his limbs too much and you couldn’t wrap him quick enough. Joel also tried to help you learn to breastfeed, but Francis would never latch to your nipple.

You and Francis didn’t quite connect, the way most new moms do with their babies. You’d seen women around Jackson with their babies, smiling and singing to them. Their babies looked so happy, so at peace with their mamas.

And it made you feel so isolated. You could never console him, never. It seemed like he only ever cried in your arms. You and Francis were like oil and water. Sometimes you wondered if you were even his mother. He wanted just about nothing to do with you, and everything to do with Joel.

Even the pregnancy was difficult. There was no glow to your body, like everyone told you there would be. You felt ugly and swollen, and you were in constant pain. Francis’ favorite activity in utero was to do somersaults, over and over and over, which meant you’d puke your brains out, over and over and over. Joel was patient with you, of course. You were growing his child. Didn’t press you for sex or make you do anything you weren’t comfortable with. He’d just hold your hair back and promise you that everything would be alright, it wouldn’t be like this forever.

Joel, on the other hand, had no problem connecting with his baby boy. Francis and Joel were thick as thieves. Francis was silent in his arms, save for the cute little coos he’d let out while sleeping. Francis didn’t cry when Joel changed his diapers like he did with you. Francis let Joel bottle feed him, but refused to let you.

It broke your heart.

And it broke Joel’s too.

To add insult to injury, your relationship with Joel was dwindling. He was there for you, just distant. And you were distant too. You knew it could happen, lots of couples lose sight of one another after a baby. You just didn’t expect it to feel so lonesome and severe.

You didn’t play games with Ellie like you used to. Didn’t cook together. Didn’t touch each other. Didn’t even go to bed at the same time, because Joel was always with Francis. You’d go to sleep before Joel, silently weeping at all of your shortcomings as a mother and partner, or whatever you were.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“You’ll be alright today,” Joel says sweetly as he dresses himself. He speaks to you in a soft and gentle tone, soothing you.

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, still rocking Francis. He looks just like Joel. He’s got big brown eyes, just like his daddy. He’s even got the same dimple as Joel on his right cheek.

“I know you are,” he says, pulling on and tying his boots. He’s nervous too, if he’s being honest with himself. He knows motherhood has not been easy on you. It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle yourself and Francis, he just knows you’re high strung and anxious. “It’s just a couple hours. Tommy put me on the short shift today.” Everyone contributed to patrol in Jackson, and today is Joel’s first day back since the birth of Francis.

You smile weakly, but wear a brave face. He’s right, it’s just a couple hours. It’ll be fine. Joel kisses your cheek, then bends down to kiss Francis’s soft head. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises.

And then he’s gone.

The silence is unnatural, almost eerie. You feel your anxiety in your fingertips as you mindlessly twiddle your fingers against Francis’ back. The sun is brighter now, and it’s time to get the day started.

Here goes nothing.

“Alright, baby. What do you think, eggs and toast for breakfast?” you whisper to Francis.

Francis just looks at you and coos with his amber eyes, his mouth suckling on his pacifier. He looks so much like his daddy.

“Sounds yummy to me too,” you reply to his lack of an answer. As you shift in your seat and maneuver Francis so that his head is tucked by your neck and you’re supporting his bum, he begins to whine a little. “It’s okay, my angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you. We’re gonna have a good day today, baby.”

You bounce him a little, soothing him. He quiets down. You make your way to the staircase, your sweet boy wrapped in your arms.

The stairs are…daunting. They’re steep, rickety, and old. They’re hard wood, but you were smart and took your socks off to eliminate any possibility of slipping. But still, it’s scary. For a second, you consider sitting and moving down the steps the way a toddler would. But you wave that idea off. Don’t be ridiculous.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. You take a step. And then another. Slowly, ever so slowly. Another now. One more.

You don’t know how it happened. You’re suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, your foot twisted and underneath your body, pinned to the hard stairs. Francis is screaming in your ear, still pressed to your chest.

You move your foot out from under you with a wince and before even checking to see if it’s broken, and hold Francis in front of you.

He’s screaming, wailing. His face is fire engine red as he cries. You quickly examine his little body to check for any scrapes or bruises or cuts. Luckily, there are none.

You do your best to soothe the little boy. “It’s okay, angel. It’s okay. Mama’s got you,” You tell him over and over that it’s okay, but you don’t know that for sure. Did he hit his head? Did you shake him?

Francis is inconsolable. You look around you for anything to grab to keep him calm, luckily his pacifier is in reach. You place it in his mouth, he spits it out. You do it again. Nothing.

You’ve got this. Just breathe.

“Okay, okay. No paci. That’s fine, baby,”

Francis’ cries never let up. He’ll tire himself out eventually. Right?

With Francis still shrieking in your ear, you check your foot. It’s black and blue, already swelling. You try to sit up a bit, put some pressure on it. The pain shoots through your entire body. You don’t know if it’s twisted, sprained, or broken.

What you do know is that you’re stuck. You’re alone, with no way to call for help. No way to move from the steps. Joel’s short shift might as well be infinite now.

A few minutes pass as you just focus on your breathing.

Breathe, is what Joel told you when you found out you were pregnant. You panicked and hyperventilated as he wrapped his strong arms around you, bringing you back down to Earth.

Breathe, is what Joel told you when you spent hours vomiting into the toilet, Frankie never letting up on his somersaults. He held your hair back, rubbed circles into the tense flesh of your shoulders.

When you were in your long and arduous labor, screaming in agony and gripping his hand. Breathe.

Breathe. When you couldn’t soothe your son, and you broke down in tears of frustration. Joel took Francis from you and walked into another room to give you a break from his cries.

You just breathe.

Finally, the ear piercing shrieks flying from Francis’ mouth subside after a while. You don’t know how long exactly, maybe an hour. He’s still crying, but it’s a different tone. He’s hungry.

Might as well give it a shot. You can do this.

You lift up your shirt, adjusting Francis so he’s flush with your body. You guide his mouth to one of your breasts, encouraging him to wrap his lips around your nipple.

You can tell he’s trying, just can’t quite figure out how to latch. You do your best to help him, maneuvering his little body and your breast to ease his struggle.

“Come on, Francis. You’ve got this, buddy,” you coo. He seems to be relaxed a little by your voice. He almost latches, but not quite. “It’s just you and me, sweetheart.”

Maybe he’s uncomfortable on this side. You flip him over and offer your other breast. He can’t quite latch there either.

He’s whining, crying. He’s frustrated, you’re frustrated. He’s hungry, you’re hungry.

“Please, please, please,” you beg him softly. “You can do this, baby. Just eat for mama.”

He still won't latch, but you don’t stop trying. Not for hours.

Francis’ hunger pangs have seemed to peter out, now. He’s asleep in your arms, most likely tired himself out from crying so much. You worry if he’ll lose his voice by the end of today.

Your ass is sore, so is your back and your foot. But you savor the peace and quiet despite the pain in your body.

You wonder how many hours it's been. You try to tell by the way the shadows on the floor change with the sun, but you can’t make out much. Maybe the shadows have moved, maybe not. You can’t tell. Time doesn’t even feel real at this point. Today is agonizingly long.

You rest your head against the banister, closing your eyes. Joel told you once to take advantage of your sleeping son.

“Get some sleep,” Joel mumbled to you. It was maybe a week after giving birth to Francis and you were peering into his crib with heavy eyelids, afraid that if you slept he’d disappear. “He’ll be fine.”

“I know, I just,” you struggled to form a sentence. You wanted to make sure your baby boy was alright. You hated leaving him.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel repeated, his gruff voice firm yet sympathetic. “Go to bed.”

Joel helped you up, your body still so tender after Francis’ delivery. You winced at the ache in your muscles. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispered to you.

You were in a trance, being led to your bed by Joel. It was like your feet weren’t even moving, just floating along and walking on nothing. Joel helped you in bed, adjusted the pillows under your head and pulled a blanket up over your shoulders.

He stepped away from the bed and made his way to the door, turning to give you one last look. Your gaze was still fixed on Francis, unwavering.

Joel sighed and walked back to the bed, this time his side. The bed creaked with each of his movements. He flipped you over gently so you couldn’t stare at Francis any longer, your head on his chest.

“Joel,” you protested. “Our baby.”

“Francis is fine,” he mumbled. “You need to sleep. I’ll watch him. Okay, mama? Mom sleeps when baby sleeps. That’s the rule.”

“I can’t sleep, though. I have to watch him,” Your anxiety wouldn’t leave. Joel felt you fight and struggle against watching Francis. You were so restless.

“Don’t sleep then,” Joel said. “Just rest your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

“Just rest my eyes?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Just give them a break,”

You groaned. “Fine,” you grumbled. You’d give them a five minute break and go back to watching Francis. “Just for a little bit. And then I’m gonna watch him.”

“Alright, honey. You do that. Hush, now. Relax,” Joel commanded you ever so sweetly. “Just close your eyes, mama.”

You did as he said, and he brought his hand to your head, dragging his fingertips through your scalp. His fingers trailed to your neck, then your back. You melted into him, turning into a puddle in his arms.

Within minutes, you were asleep, snoring quietly.

Joel knew how to read people, the right words to say to sway them in the direction he wanted them to go. You were no different than anyone else. Now, he wasn't proud of manipulating you into slumber, but he felt it was justified given the circumstances.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up to a putrid smell, your ass basically numb underneath you.

“No, no,” you groan. You adjust Francis, and he begins screaming when you peek into his diaper. The kid does not like being woken up. “Fuck.” you cry.

It’s a bad one, the mess in his diaper. Francis wails in your ear as you assess the situation. You can’t just leave him in his mess.

You sigh, taking off your shirt. You set it down next to you on the staircase.

Francis screams louder when you take off his diaper and set it on the ground. He hates being changed. “I know, bud. This sucks for me too,” you sympathize with him. Then, using your shirt, you wipe him clean as best as you can. It’s not perfect, but it will have to do.

“Please, don’t cry. Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay,”

Francis is relentless. He doesn’t let up. You just hold him, his excrement is on your skin and clothes. You’re gagging as your eyes begin to water.

Your ears are ringing and sore from all the noise. Your back is aching worse than it ever has, worse than when you backpacked across the country with Joel and Ellie. Your arms are full of pins and needles and going numb, you’re afraid you may drop Francis. Your foot is throbbing angrily.

And then the floodgates fly open. Your tears are spilling, hot and fast. You’re gasping for air, hyperventilating. Francis is shaking with each jolt of your lungs and you try to still yourself, but you’re powerless against your body.

You sob loudly, almost as loud as Francis. You can’t remember the last time you cried this way. All of your frustration, pain, loneliness, leaving your body and washing over it again in heaving sobs and cries.

“I’m sorry,” you cry to Francis. “I’m so sorry.” Your voice is thick and wet.

You try your best to breathe, just like Joel told you. But you can’t. You’re gasping uncontrollably and your nose is full of mucous, blocking you from inhaling and exhaling.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, holding Francis and rocking him. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I’m so sorry, Francis.”

You repeat it like a mantra. You apologize to your little boy over and over and over again, for hours.

“I’m so sorry, Francis. You deserve better, sweet baby,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“I was thinking we’d do soup for lunch. Nice and warm, what do you think?” Joel’s voice is faint and muffled through the front door. You perk up slightly at the sound of him and Ellie, but you’re too drained to do anything more.

“Soup sounds good. But I’ll make it. You burnt it last time,” Ellie giggles. Her bubbly voice is music to your tired ears.

“Did not,” Joel says with disdain for Ellies recollection of events. “How do you even burn soup?”

“I don’t know, man. You’re the one who burned it,”

Ellie and Joel giggle as they make their way through the house, then both of their smiles drop at the sight in front of them.

You’re half naked, covered in feces and your face is puffy with tears. Your foot is black and blue and ugly as you sit and cry, with Francis naked and messy in your arms.

Joel says nothing, just grabs Francis from your arms and checks him. Then he moves to you, checking your body and your face.

“Oh my god,” is all he can get out. “Oh my god.”

You just cry.

“What the fuck happened?”

Your eyes meet Joel’s, then Ellie’s. They’re both so concerned.

So you explain how you fell down the stairs, right after Joel left. You don’t know how it happened. You explain how neither you nor Francis have eaten. “We’ve been here for hours,” you get out between sobs.

“Oh my god,”

Joel’s eyes are glassy, his voice is shaky. He passes Francis to Ellie. “Need your help,” he says to Ellie. “Clean him up. Please.”

She nods, holding out her arms to take Francis. “I’ve got him,” she whispers, before taking him into the kitchen.

Joel helps you up, you yelp at the pain. Your foot aches, so do the rest of your bones. “I know. I know,” Joel mumbles. His heart is broken into a million pieces, he’s in disbelief that this even happened to you.

He helps you into his arms, cradling you as he walks you both up the stairs. You hold onto him tightly, the smell of his clothes and his sweat bring you so much comfort and relief. Your person is here, and he’s gonna make it all better.

Joel takes you into the bathroom and removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them on the floor. You sit on the toilet seat as he removes his clothing. You feel like such a failure of a mother.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, now,” he says softly.

“I can’t shower, Joel. My foot,” you cry.

“I know, honey’. I’ve got you,” his voice is so quiet, so gentle. “Just for a minute. Just let me rinse you, that’s all.”

Joel lifts you up slowly, being extra conscious of your foot, then lifts you into the tub. He pulls the leg of your injured foot over his hip and wraps one of his strong arms around your waist as he uses the other to turn on the warm water.

He removes the showerhead and rinses your body, watching all of the dirt and grime leave your skin. Then he places the showerhead back in its spot and switches the water to come out of the bath spout.

He maneuvers you in his arms to sit down against him in the bath. Your back is pressed to his chest as the warm water begins to fill the bathtub. All that can be heard is the sound of rushing water and your quiet sobbing.

“Shh,” he hushes you. “It’s okay, now. I’m here. You’re safe,”

“Joel,” you cry, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know. I know,” he murmurs.

He holds you like that as the water fills, your sobs are beginning to die down. Joel leans forward to shut the water off once the tub is full, then grabs a rag and some soap to clean your body.

Only now does it hit you that this is the first he’s seen you fully since giving birth to his child. You look so different now. You curl up, bringing your knees to your chest.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispers as he pushes your knees back down. “I only wanna help you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you now.”

He scrubs your body gently, washing away the disaster of a morning you and Francis shared. He can sense your insecurity still. “So beautiful,” he breathes. He’s so delicate with his movements, washing you so tenderly. So full of love and care. “Always been so beautiful, mama.”

You relax into his touch, your head resting on his chest. He’s so warm. So comforting. He feels like home. He tilts your chin up so your eyes can meet his own, so deep and dark. His fingers trace your features, your chin and your lips and your nose. Your eyes well with tears again.

“I’m so sorry, Joel,”

“What for, honey?”

“Today. Francis,”

“Hey, now,” he says. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, though,” You shake your head slightly, your bottom lip is wobbling. “I’m such a terrible mom, Joel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Joel’s eyes fill with tears, they begin to fall down his cheeks. “You’re not a terrible mom,” he hushes you with a broken voice. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”

Of course, he knows why you think that. He’s been a little overbearing with Francis, not giving you the opportunity to learn to parent the way he should have. “You’re new to this, honey. That’s all,”

You mumble something under your breath, Joel doesn’t hear. All he hears are your quiet whimpers and sniffles as you stare deep into his eyes. He’s never looked so raw before.

Some silence passes, and finally he speaks.

“Sarah was an early walker,” he begins.

Your brows furrow. Joel rarely talks about Sarah, even now.

“Once she began wobblin’ on those little legs of hers, I knew she’d be trouble. She’s the reason Tommy and I built a fence,” Joel recounted. “You know why?”

“Why?” you whispered.

“Well, she was an escape artist,” he says. “I’d be out there, doin’ yardwork or grillin’. She’d be in her sandbox, building little castles and whatnot. I thought she was, at least.” Joel pauses for a second, looking away wistfully.

Joel continues, smiling now. “Anyway. I’d look back to check on her, and poof. She’s gone. And I’d look across the street, and she’s makin’ friends with the Adlers. Workin’ her charm with them into givin’ her cookies and ice cream. She did it all the time,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Constantly. She did it constantly,” Joel replies. “Girl was trouble. Nothin’ but trouble. So Tommy and I built that fence to keep her from escapin’. ‘Course, didn’t stop Mr. and Mrs. Adler from sneakin’ her treats before dinner.” Joel chuckled at the memory. You did too.

“She sounds so sweet, Joel,” you say.

“She was,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s quiet again for a moment, remembering. “I was runnin’ her a bath one night. Right after she learned to walk, you know? And I’m focused on the water, makin’ sure it’s not too hot and not too cold. She’d kick up a fuss if the temperature wasn’t to her liking. Like, exactly. Had to be perfect.”

You smile. Joel is such a wonderful storyteller, you could listen to him talk all day long.

“Didn’t even notice her leave the bathroom. Thought she was right behind me. I just heard her tumble down the stairs, screamin’ and cryin’. Tommy grabbed her, drove us to the hospital,”

You nod quietly.

“So they run tests on her, of course. She’s charmin’ the nurse into giving her suckers and toys. She was fine, thank the lord. No bruises, no scratches. Just fine,”

“That sounds so scary, Joel,” “It was. Terrifying. I cried like a baby the whole night thinkin’ I hurt my little girl,” he says. “But you know what the nurse told me?”

“What’s that?”

“She said that babies are rubber. They’re tough. Resilient. Our little boy is resilient too, you know,”

You look away from him, picking at your fingernails. The guilt is eating you again.

“You’re new to this, mama. Go easy on yourself, for christsake. You just had him two damn months ago,”

You barely reply, just kind of mumble. You don’t know how to respond.

“Hey, look at me,” he tilts your chin and to stare into your eyes. He’s deadly serious. “You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re doin’ fine, mama. Shit happens.”

You still can’t speak. His words help, but it was still a terrible day. Maybe one day you won’t hurt over it. He understands, not forcing you to say anything.

He just finishes washing your body, then dries you off and wraps you in a towel. He carries you into bed, promising you that he’ll get the town doctor over later to check on your foot. There’s a sandwich waiting for you on your bedside table. Ellie. Such a sweet girl.

Joel leaves you to clean the mess of your clothes in the bathroom and at the stairs, and you eat your sandwich. You feel so much better getting some food in your system.

After finishing your sandwich, you hear tapping at the door. “Can we come in? It’s me and Francis,” Ellie says.

“Yeah, El. Come in,”

Ellie tiptoes in with Francis, his hair is wild and curly. Just like Joel’s. His eyes are big and lost. Ellie looks fatigued. “He didn’t like the bath very much,” she says. “But I did give him a bottle.”

“I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble,” you reply. “He can be a little cranky. Thanks for feeding him, El. You’re so good with him.”

“Yeah, I can handle him. We’re best friends,” she says. You can see in her face that she’s exhausted, though. “Right, Frankie?”

You smile softly, holding out your arms. Ellie places him in your hold gently, being extra careful to support his head and neck. She can see the worry on your face. You still feel so unsure of holding him, being responsible for him.

“Guess what?”

You look up at her. “What?” You bounce Francis softly.

“I’m gonna teach him how to say fuck. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” she giggles, that signature smirk on her face. Her eyes are so playful and bright. “And I’m gonna teach him the other ones too. Bitch, ass, asshole, shit, dick, cun-”

“Don’t you dare corrupt my son, you little shit,” A deep voice interrupts. It’s Joel, standing at the doorway. “Don’t need two demented kids in this house. You’re more than enough.”

“Hey!” Ellie gasps, feigning offense. Ellie sits down on the bed as Joel walks towards her. “I’ll teach your kid whatever words I want, old man. And I’m not demented,” She punches him in the arm playfully. “You are.”

Joel just rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

You meet his gaze, smiling at him quietly. Francis is asleep in your arms, mumbling and cooing softly. He’s so sweet like this.

Joel takes Francis from your arms, places him in his crib. Joel looks at Ellie. “Out,” he says. “Mama needs to sleep.”

Ellie gets up to leave, not before giving you a hug. You wrap your arms tightly around the girl, she’s such a good big sister to your baby boy. She doesn’t often hug you, so it’s a welcome surprise.

Joel meets you on the bed, pulling you close to his body. You rest your head on his chest as he plays with your hair. “Get some sleep, honey,”

You yawn, melting into his body. “Okay, daddy,”

He feels like home.

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers@angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat @anoverhwhelmingdin @dontatmethebeasts @venus122idkpleaze @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou show #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #soft!joel miller #soft!joel miller x reader #strang3lov3

2K notes · View notes

bellaxgiornata · 4 months

Text

Neighbors [Prologue]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Between running Common Grounds, chasing after your escape artist husky, and helping your financially struggling brother out by watching your niece, your days are always busy. But shortly after a new neighbor moves into the other side of your duplex, you start receiving mysterious threats. Surprisingly, you eventually find safety and comfort in the reclusive neighbor whom your niece and dog have both come to befriend.

Warnings/tags: 18+; contains friends to lovers, violence, fluff, eventual smut, angst

a/n: This is just a short prologue to this little fic and unfortunately there's only mentions of Frank, he doesn't make an appearance until the first chapter. Also yes, Reader has a family, but I try my best to keep physical descriptions nonexistent and allow for y'all reading to either view Reader as biologically related to her brother, or to view her as adopted at birth. Feedback is always appreciated and the chapter list for future updates can be found here!

Tag list: @danzer8705

“Alright, coffee bean,” you said, opening the back door of your car, “what’s first on the agenda for this afternoon?”

A bright smile lit up Lily’s face as you leaned into the backseat, beginning to unbuckle her from the carseat. Her feet swung back and forth in her pink shoes as she waited for you to undo the restraints, a thoughtful ‘hmm’ coming from her as you undid each buckle. Though you already knew what she was going to say, because it was the same answer every time.

“First we need a snack,” she answered.

“Oh we do, do we?” you asked with a grin.

“We always start with snack time, Nini,” she stated matter-of-factly in her small voice.

Your grin grew wider at the nickname she still called you after all these years. When she was younger, she'd struggled to properly say ‘auntie,’ instead the word coming out as ‘nini.’ So Nini you happily became.

Finished with undoing her buckles, Lily slid out of her seat, grabbing her backpack and stuffed husky–the plush that was almost an exact replica of your dog that she carried absolutely everywhere with her–from the seat beside her. While she began to climb her way out of the car, your attention was drawn away by the sound of your neighbor’s front door closing. Glancing over your shoulder and past your driveway over to the duplex beside yours, you spotted your landlord, Cora. Her back was to you as she continued to lock up the duplex next door to yours.

You’d been wondering why her car had been parked in the neighboring driveway when you’d first pulled up. She hadn’t mentioned anything about stopping by for anything today to you, so you figured her visit had something to do with the neighboring unit. Curiously you wondered if she had finally gotten a tenant for that duplex, because you knew it had been empty for the past couple of months. Not many people wanted to move to a small town in Michigan. Though it wasn’t like you’d been complaining about the lack of noisy neighbors for the past couple of months. The peaceful silence of not sharing a wall with someone had been great, and so had been having the entire shared backyard to yourself.

Lily’s small hand grabbing onto yours broke you from your thoughts, your focus shifting back down to her now standing at your side. She was grinning up at you, her purple backpack on her back and her husky clutched tight to her chest with her other arm.

She’d just finished preschool for the day today, and as usual, you’d picked her up afterwards. She attended preschool three days a week for only half a day–paid for by you, because your brother was struggling to make ends meet as it was being a single dad in debt. He sometimes even worked a second job at a bar in town at night, and on those nights Lily stayed with you.

Your brother Jamie was truthfully a great father, but he had been struggling financially even before Lily came into the picture. It didn't help that Lily’s mother had bailed on the pair of them almost immediately after giving birth, leaving Jamie all alone to figure everything out.

All alone except for you, of course. Because there was no way in hell you'd let your brother and his poor little baby girl suffer. Since Jamie couldn’t afford traditional daycare, you had offered to watch your niece whenever he was working. And it had been that way for years. Nowadays that meant sometimes you’d take her down to Common Grounds, the coffee shop you owned downtown, and let her help you out or work on her own activities while you finished whatever you needed to. Other days you’d find ways to keep the pair of you entertained at your place or around town. It was an arrangement you didn’t truthfully mind because Lily was a fairly well behaved four year old and you genuinely loved spending time with her. You knew you'd miss her constant company when she finally started kindergarten in the fall.

“And what do you think we should have for a snack?” you asked her.

“Apple cookies!” she exclaimed instantly. “You make them better than daddy!”

“Well you're in luck,” you told her, closing the car door, “because I just bought fresh strawberries yesterday.”

Beside you, Lily happily jumped up and down, emitting a squeal of delight. The sight of her had you laughing as she began pulling at your hand, beginning to drag you up the length of the driveway. But the pair of you didn't get far before you heard your name being called out. Turning towards the voice, you spotted your landlord Cora. You sent her a smile and a wave in greeting.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Phillips!” Lily cheerfully called out, waving her stuffed husky enthusiastically at Cora.

“And good afternoon to you, Lily!” Cora said, stopping at the edge of the neighboring driveway and leaning down towards the girl. “How was preschool today?”

“Good!” Lily exclaimed. “Nini and I are going to make apple cookies for snack now!”

“Oh you are? Well those sound yummy,” Cora told her. Her eyes returned to you, a warm smile on her face as she straightened back up. “And how're you doing, dear?”

Laughing lightly, you shrugged your shoulders. “About as busy as always,” you replied. “But that's better than being bored, I suppose.” You gestured your head towards the duplex she just left. “Did you finally find someone for the unit?”

Cora nodded as she said, “I did, actually. So it seems you'll finally be getting a neighbor. Just one, though. But he seemed to be a very polite gentlemen from the few times we have spoken at least.”

Your heart sank at the news, but you did your best to refrain from letting the disappointment show on your face. So not only were you getting a neighbor again, but it was a single man. Probably a bachelor of some sort. You only hoped he wouldn't be bringing many dates back to his place. Not just because you didn't want to hear anything through that shared wall, but you didn't want Lily to overhear anything on the nights she stayed over, either.

“Oh?” you asked. “When uh, when is he moving in?”

“He moves in tomorrow actually,” Cora told you. “He seemed eager to get settled in as soon as possible and I couldn't quite complain. I've been needing to fill that place for a while now.”

Lily began to tug impatiently at your hand. Glancing down at her, you saw the slight frown on her face. She was tired of the ‘adult talk’ already, you could see it on her face.

“I suppose I'll be meeting him soon then,” you said, focusing back on Cora. “But I should probably get Lily inside and get going on those apple cookies of hers.”

Lily resumed enthusiastically hopping from one foot to the other at the mention of her favorite snack. “Yes please, Nini!”

“Alright dear,” Cora said, that warm smile still on her face. “You girls take care. And let me know if there's any problems with the new neighbor, okay? You know I worry about you two.”

Taking a step back in the direction of your front door, you nodded. “I'm sure everything will be just fine, Cora,” you told her. “But I'll be sure to let you know if anything comes up.”

You sent her a final wave before turning around and continuing up towards your own front door, Lily once again tugging at your hand. As the pair of you neared the front window of your duplex, you could hear the distinct happy barks of greeting from your husky. She was standing at the front window, her tail wagging enthusiastically as faint whines penetrated through the glass in between her impatient barks.

“Penny! Penny!” Lily cried out.

The little girl released your hand, bolting over towards the window. Penny's whining only increased in response to your niece as you finished making your way to the front door, searching for the correct key on your keyring. Placing your key into the lock, you twisted it just before the sound of Penny's feet frantically racing over towards the door met your ears. Seconds later Lily was back at your side, excitedly bursting into your place in front of you the moment the door was opened. Her arms were wrapped around Penny's neck in a hug by the time you stepped inside, giggling as your dog began to happily lick the side of her face.

“Lily, shoes off please!” you called out to her.

Reluctantly breaking away from Penny, Lily made her way back over to where you were taking off your shoes in the entryway. As she sat down to take hers off, you placed yours in the entry closet.

“So what should we do after snack time today?” you asked her, turning around and helping her remove her shoes. “We have a couple of hours before your dad comes to pick you up. Should we watch a movie? Color? Find a craft to do?”

You grabbed Lily’s shoes from her, turning back around to place them in the closet beside yours before closing the door. When you focused back on her, she was contentedly scratching Penny's ears and watching as the dog's tongue lolled out of her mouth in sheer bliss, Penny’s eyes partially closing.

“No, I don't want to do those today,” Lily told you, shaking her head. “I want to…bake!”

“Okay,” you said, making your way through the living room and towards your kitchen. “What do you want to bake? Brownies? Cookies?”

“Cookies!” she replied. “For your new neighbor!”

You paused at the entrance of your kitchen, your back to your niece as you heard her little footsteps and Penny's following after you. You hadn't expected that to be her answer.

“Alright,” you said slowly, dragging the word out. “So…you want to make cookies for the new neighbor moving in tomorrow?”

“Yep!” she answered. “It’s nice to bring people cookies, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” you replied. “So should we make chocolate chip cookies after snack time, then?”

“Uh uh,” she immediately replied. “Heart cookies.”

Your eyebrows shot up even further onto your forehead. She wanted you to make heart shaped cookies for your new, single male neighbor?

“Coffee bean,” you began carefully, turning around to face her, “it's not February anymore. We don't–”

Lily crossed her arms over her chest, stomping one foot down in defiance as she stared up at you. “I want to make him heart cookies with pink frosting and sprinkles, Nini.”

You stood there for a moment dumbfounded, your gaze holding her unwavering one. When she didn't back down, your eyes shifted over to Penny who was standing beside her. The dog's head only tilted to the side as she sat down, somehow seemingly mimicking your niece's defiant posture. With a sigh you turned back around, heading over to your fridge and feeling outnumbered.

“Okay, okay,” you relented. “After snack time we can make my new neighbor heart shaped cookies with pink frosting and sprinkles.”

“Yay!” Lily cheered, running over to sit at the kitchen table, Penny darting off just behind her. “They're going to be so beautiful! He’s going to love them!”

And hopefully this new neighbor is truly as nice and polite as Cora said , you thought as you grabbed an apple from out of the fruit drawer of your fridge. Because I don't know how a grown single man is going to react to receiving heart shaped cookies with sprinkles as a welcome gift…but so help me he better not hurt her feelings.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle #the punisher

337 notes · View notes

yyawnjun · 4 months

Text

VIVID MEMORIES

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. SUMMARY: Your first vivid memory of you and your best friend, Choi Seungcheol, was when you were seven years old, on a summer evening. You spent the day at the beach and were about to build your sand castle. You had no notion of time; you were happy without realizing it. The second vivid memory you have of your best friend is from a cold winter night. Your 14-year-old selves comfortable between the blankets and a Christmas movie playing in the background. On that night, you found out that S.coups would be moving in a week. The third vivid memory you have of your best friend is from the autumn before you entered college. You were nineteen years old and had moved into a university-provided shared flat; it was evening when you were ready to meet your roommate. So you entered the apartment, and your gaze met the brown eyes you knew better than anyone else. The fourth vivid memory you have of your S.coups was on a spring night when everything changed. […]

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. GENRE: fluff, a bit angst, slightly suggestive || best friends to (to strangers to roommates) lovers

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. WARNINGS: mention of food/alcohol (just beers)

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. WORD COUNT: 7k !!

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. A.N.: hey guys, after a month from the spoiler, here is the Vivid Memories fanfiction!! I'll start with a big thank you to lia @sobun1est , she proofread everything and was always super kind and supportive, she was literally an angel.

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. TAGLIST: @kflixnet @christinewithluv @thepoopdokyeomtouched @leah-rose03 @lavayeon @renapersa @xcynthiaaa

Your first vivid memory of yourself and your best friend is from a summer evening at the beach. Everything is clear in your mind, from the time you arrived in the afternoon, to lunch, and finally, the time spent between the water and the sand. You and S.coups had been best friends since birth; your cribs were close, and your mothers had met in the hospital and ended up becoming great friends.

From the earliest age, you were used to doing everything together, so much so that no one could tell if you were close friends or siblings. Regardless of how you appear; spending so much time with a person tends to make you resemble them.

You had similar tastes in everything - from simple preferences for snacks to choices of games to play together. Between you two, he was slightly more extroverted and found it easier to talk to people. But being such good friends, you - who were initially more reserved and introverted - ended up resembling him in this aspect as well.

Even the more negative traits were shared - like stubbornness or sensitivity. But these weighed much less; you were good to each other, and everyone could notice that. You had also formed a group of friends, with whom you often gathered in the afternoons to play.

This had also happened on that hot summer day. You had arrived in the morning, but all of your friends had left shortly after lunch, leaving only you and S.coups to complete your project of immense significance and excellent architectural attention: a sandcastle.

6:06 p.m.

"We need more water. I'll go get it," he had told you as he stood up with the bucket and came to the sea.

"I can do it! You can finish the towers since you're more precise."

"No, I'll go because I'm stronger. You're a girl."

"But I'm faster!" you replied with a challenging tone.

"That's not true," and he turned around, running.

You followed him without hesitation. Your laughter resonated on the now-empty beach; the breeze ruffled your hair, and before you knew it, you were the first to reach the sea.

And when he got to you, he "accidentally" pushed you and caused you to fall into the water. You were near the coast, so you could touch the bottom, and you took advantage of the situation by dragging Scoups into the water and pretending to take his hand to pull yourself up. A water splash war began; the more one of you moved the water, the other responded with equal vigor. Laughter, splashes, and the sound of your bodies moving through the water filled the silence on that summer evening.

Your castle was never finished - and this memory would haunt you in the future - because your parents came towards you to call you as it was getting late, and it was time to go home.

So, you started walking towards the car; both of you were still soaking wet, and you shared a large towel for the entire journey back. During that ride, you sang your favorite songs at the top of your lungs, imagining yourselves as famous singers with a microphone and a big audience.

If you closed your eyes, you could still vividly see your best friend at the age of seven, moving his lips with his eyes closed, singing various songs with his already splendid voice.

The ride back was short, or at least it seemed so to you because you had focused only on the two of you singing. You helped your mothers cook dinner, which was based on ramen. S.coups was busy chopping vegetables while you set the table. Meanwhile, your conversations were varied; from regretting not finishing the sandcastle to discussing who among you was more in tune. Later in the night, when the spontaneous question of what you wanted to be when you grew up developed, your talk would be further explored.

But before that, there was a moment of play after helping clean the kitchen when everyone finished dinner. Playing activity games led to lying on the floor and starting a long game of Monopoly. You knew the rules well enough to the point that you ended up dividing all the money in the bank and started buying and stealing houses from each other, easily ignoring the original rules.

You remember perfectly the fake pout put on by your best friend when he realized he had been tricked several times by you. His arms crossed, and his gaze turned elsewhere as he tried to scold you for your immorality and for how wrong you had been.

The mood, however, quickly dissipated because your genuine laughter had enchanted him, distracting him from the original reason for it.

So, the late hour arrived, and both of you put on your pajamas and lay down to sleep.

Your bodies were exhausted, but your young minds were not. You returned to the topic that had characterized your conversations many times: what you wanted to do when you grew up.

S.coups was so sure he wanted to become a singer that it became a habit for you to listen to him talk about all the things he would do once he became famous.

Thinking back, it warmed your heart when you noticed that in all his plans, he was never alone - it was always Scoups and Yn.

You also shared your dreams, and you both promised to be each other's number-one fans - supporting each other's choices and ideas. In the end, it was almost as if dreams had become another thing you shared.

"Cross on the heart, we'll be together forever, and our dreams will come true a thousand percent!!" you both said in unison at the top of your lungs, as if it hadn't long passed the time for both of you to sleep.

You vividly remember looking into his eyes as he made that promise; the moon was the only source of light faintly illuminating his face, and his smile was barely perceptible. The bond of trust that united you was deep, and on that summer night, for the first time, you felt him very close to your heart - you couldn't explain why, perhaps because you didn't care to understand it. You were happy, and that was enough!

Your summer days spent together would be many more, as well as the years you had planned to spend together.

In no time, your conversations became more and more confusing, and the words became slurred. Without realizing it, you fell asleep - facing each other, with a faint smile on your faces and your eyes closed peacefully.

The vivid memory of every moment of that day would come back to you at least one night of all your subsequent summers - regardless of how everything had changed over time in a completely unexpected way.

You'll remember those times with melancholy because they were over and with joy. After all, they were there.

The second vivid memory you have with your best friend takes place during a winter. Your 14-year-old selves were returning home from a long snowball fight that had lasted all afternoon on a Friday night when the snow was falling heavily.

It began as a competition to build the most beautiful snowman, then evolved into a team effort to create one together, and then ended in the destruction of your work and a snowball war.

Competitiveness raised your spirits, but your best friend unexpectedly gave up and joined you after raising the white flag.

He'd whispered an excuse for his defeat, meaning that he wanted to leave that happy memory of your win rooted in your mind.

At that moment you did not fully understand his words, but they took on another meaning after the news you learned that evening.

So you walked into the house, where the pleasant aroma of pizza filled the air. Not even time to take off your coats began your competition to get to the kitchen first.

When you arrived, there was a table set for the two of you and a message from your parents telling you that you and S.coups would be eating alone and that a hot pizza was waiting for you in the oven.

You remember your best friend's smile as you read aloud the message left, and his excitement at the idea that you could spend the night together watching movies and eating anything you wanted.

After your victory greeting, which included a 3-second handshake and a pirouette to each other, you determined who would shower first while the other looked for movie marathon alternatives to watch that night. You both assumed you'd be able to stay up all night.

You won and quickly showered.

As soon as you came out, you noticed S.coups concentrating as he read the list of movies you had made - you swore that, for a moment, his eyes had appeared glazed over, but at the sight of you he had quickly composed himself.

He had run toward the shower, and instead, you had noticed a note with three options, including one of them written in big letters: " CHRISTMAS MOVIE + STUDIO GHIBLI MARATHON."

You didn't ask too many questions - on the contrary, you thought about how much those films had been a fundamental part of your childhood, and your heart warmed.

When your best friend returned from the shower, you were still thinking about the order in which you would watch the movies. When you looked up to discuss your decision, you noticed that the boy was holding a towel and wasn't wearing a T-shirt. You immediately shifted your sight and quit speaking.

S.coups looked perplexed, but he quickly realized what was going on.

His lips formed a pleased smirk.

You were teenagers, and even though you had shared everything since you were younger, those awkward moments - the ones of contact with reality - deepened your bond.

"Put a shirt on."

"Why should I, huh?" he asked, chuckling.

"It's winter...you might get sick." you stammered as you pulled yourself together and went back to look at him.

"Okay," he snorted at you.

So your gaze was drawn to his back as he struggled to put on the pajama shirt he kept in your house because you were like siblings.

The boy was a dancer, and the results were visible on his physique; his muscles were well defined, and his movements were incredibly harmonious, to the point that you were charmed observing him

You were thrown back to earth by a sneeze.

"Yn...your hair is still wet - he told you as he laid his towel on your head - and then you tell me to be careful not to catch cold.." he continued as he quickly dried your hair with the towel.

You laughed too, and as S.coups's movements warmed you up a little.

At that moment, the vivid memory focused more on how you felt.

For a few seconds, neither of you had spoken, as if both of you had been stuck in your stream of thought. For the second time that day you noticed his gaze fixed on you, but his as he wandered elsewhere.

A snort and a smile interrupted that moment, and you proactively got up to take the hot pizza out of the oven.

S.coups towel was left on your head, and you vividly remember the scent of the vanilla-flavored bubble bath used by the boy being overpowered by that of the pizza fresh out of the oven.

You turned around and saw him sitting with a fork and knife in hand smiling, and ready for dinner.

Before long the pizza you had in front of you was over, and thanks to the light topics discussed the time had, to say the least, flown by.

You had discussed as much and as little as which of your professors would be most likely to win in a fight - both of you were convinced it would not be the English one - or whether there were more stars or grains of sand in the world.

After these deep discussions, you moved to the couch and set up the television to begin your marathon of Home Alone, and the Studio Ghibli films.

The evening began with the Christmas movie and continued with Totoro, whose initial song the two of you were happily humming the refrain.

You had always been used to being together, and from an early age physical contact had been a present element in your friendship.

As you grew up, it was as if a veil of awkwardness had appeared but at the same time, it was as if your deep friendship had overcome it: proof of this was the position you were in.

He sat, and you with your head over his legs while he stroked your hair and you scratched his arm. Nothing strange, nothing mischievous or sensual, simply two teenagers watching a movie together for the umpteenth time.

The more you try to recall that vivid memory, the more you begin to notice how many times your gaze had crossed and how you had been the center of the boy's attention.

You hadn't paid too much attention at the time; you both knew the movies by heart, and you were both exhausted.

But you still started at 11 pm Spirited Away.

With dreamy eyes, you looked at the world represented by the film, and with the same eyes, S.coups looked at you.

You noted he seemed thoughtful because he commented on the movies less than usual, but you had seen him weird all day. It was only then that you realized there was something he had not yet told you but was on the verge of telling you.

Only you knew him well enough to sense it without him saying anything.

When the film was over you began to pay more attention to S.coups attitudes.

He stroked you more gently than usual, and never had he pulled your hair or pinched you as he usually did in a friendly way.

The third film on the list was your movie, Howl's Wandering Castle.

And, as difficult as it was to tell your friend that you were tired and that it might be better to go to bed, you chose that option because you were becoming concerned for the boy. He gave no sign of resisting, which made you certain that something was going to come out that night.

And so for the umpteenth time, you found yourselves lying in a bed together; there had never been any awkwardness because you had always filled the silence with words or music.

But on that winter night, no one dared to utter a word - almost as if you were both aware that there was whatever you would say would come out unpleasant.

There was only a dim bajour lighting the room, and you could occasionally hear the sound of your breaths.

"I'm moving out tomorrow."

Few words, many feelings, many tears, and few reactions.

"Really?"

"Yes. But not by my will, my parents are moving."

"Oh."

You could not process a single word, no rational reaction was accomplished by you or him.

Both of you stood motionless, staring at each other.

His eyes struggled to maintain eye contact, occasionally moving to the sides of the room.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It was a sudden thing: I found out last month. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I guess I didn't have the courage you know," he told you, returning to look into your eyes.

You felt like a great selfish urge to ask him to stay.

"And where will you go?"

"Seoul."

There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but your profound admiration and affection for him kept you from acting selfishly.

"It will be a great opportunity for your dream S.coups! I will visit you often, so forget me not!"

From that simple sentence, his whole expression changed; his grimace turned into a big smile, and a few tears fell from his eyes; as if he was waiting for your approval....

Instinctively he hugged and thanked you.

Despite all the years we had spent together, hearing him cry was still new to you - but you took his cry as permission to start crying too.

And on that night, you remember so vividly.

It was on that night that your dreams and destinies parted.

You would have liked to talk more throughout the night, but sleep was stronger than you, and you both collapsed asleep.

You were still embraced; his face was in the crook of your neck, and your scent flooded his nostrils was enough to bring him a peaceful sleep.

Your faces were still adorned with the previous now-dried tears, while a faint melancholy smile decorated your faces.

Your memories of the next day, the official farewell day, the day of a thousand questions answered and planned, for some inexplicable reasons were less vivid.

But his broken voice of that cold winter night was a memory that never faded from your mind.

The third vivid memory you have of you and your best friend is of an autumn day, the one before you started college.

Since you had drifted apart, many things had happened; good and bad times had alternated, and time had passed.

You made a promise to stay in touch forever, but due to a thousand different duties and circumstances, you both had become increasingly unreachable.

In the beginning, you still kept a diary with all the things you wanted to say to him and meticulously updated it every day.

But even the last bit of paper that held you together had faded away.

Memories with him remained of happy and comfortable times; when you thought about it, your soul was filled with melancholy and nostalgia. Nostalgia is the primal meaning of the word, as it had been for Odysseus in the Odyssey: homelessness.

The memory of home, which had always been associated with S.coups for you, dissipated, and many new ones took the place.

The high school years seemed to have flown past, whereas they appeared forever previously. You finished with honors and were able to attend a prestigious college with many degrees owing to a scholarship.

Fate or not, you ended up in Seoul.

As soon as you read the letter of admission, that location resonated with you with the voice of S.coups. That broken voice on that summer night still resonated with you on an autumn night when you were 19 years old and on your way to Seoul.

Your baggage was packed, and your flight was scheduled to depart the next morning. You'd find your mother at the Seoul airport, who had gone there first to help you with your flat. Your parents had gotten you an apartment near the university as a gift when you were swamped with stuff to study.

Your scholarship covered half the costs, and the other half was split with a roommate, whom your parents had promised you would like.

You slept little that night, your mind racing with everything from the things you'd miss to the experiences you'd have.

Fear and anxiety weighed you down, and soothing music to lull you to sleep didn't seem to help.

Until, late at night, sleep prevails. You awoke after a few hours. You didn't feel tired because adrenaline was racing through your veins, keeping you awake enough to get up and settle before you left.

You wish farewell to your home, your city, and all that had been your life up until that moment at 6 a.m.

The journey passed between a thousand songs, books, drawings, and games. You arrived so late in the afternoon at the airport, where you met your mother, and together decided to take a tour of the city.

You left your baggage in a designated locker and approached her after she showed you the university's offices. Sunset had arrived, and the autumn colors had calmed the atmosphere.

Everything was wonderful on that day, which you remember vividly.

Fortunately, tiredness only set in after you and your mother arrived at your flat. Your conversations during the day had been of all kinds, but particularly at the end, they had focused on your future and the one with whom you would share a room.

You expected to see him at the airport, or at the very least to learn more about him. But, in the end, your mother did not reveal anything to you, and you would only find out who it was in a few minutes.

Following your mother to a very tall building, you promptly took an elevator up to the fourth floor after grabbing your belongings.

You were experiencing a wide range of emotions at the time.

Mostly, you were worried about everything that was waiting for you.

You arrived on the sixth floor and entered room 505 after leaving the elevator. You remember vividly putting the keys into the keyhole - initially wrongly twisting them. You entered the house after succeeding.

The lights were on, and a black coat was already hanging on the coat rack on the left side of the door. You did the same thing, and after putting your shoes away, you noticed that some of them were already there. You took the slippers left for you and passed the others to your mother. You walked down the short hall and reached the small living room.

Not many people know, but the sense most connected to memories is the smell.

A smell, a scent intense or not, pleasant or not, recurring or not, is what most allows a person to bring back a memory.

A scent of fresh sea water invaded your nostrils in that vivid memory. A distinct smell hit you even before you noticed those brown eyes that you most recognized, even before you heard him say "Welcome to Seoul," even before he came to you for a hug, and even before all that you would eat together.

That smell of the ocean brought back your first vivid memory of a summer evening spent laughing on the beach while building a sand castle. Later, all of the other senses were activated, respectively.

In front of you stood Choi Seungcheol, S.coups, your childhood best friend. He had a smile on his face and promptly stood up to greet you in a long hug.

Then he showed you throughout your small apartment, from the hallway to the shared kitchen and bathroom to the separate but adjacent rooms.

You quickly sorted some of your belongings before proceeding to the kitchen. For a moment, you had even thought that you would sleep in the same room - maybe even in the same bed - as it was.

You had then pondered the innocuous thought while the three of you sat in the kitchen reminiscing about the good old days. So much had changed, and your best friend had grown into an objectively attractive guy.

He had grown taller, the effects of years of gymnastics were visible, and the muscles could be seen even when he wasn't shirtless. He had changed his hairstyle, now wearing a not-so-long mullet with two strands of hair hanging over his eyes, and his clothing style had seemed evolved. He had dressed for the occasion in a tight white sweater with a high neck, explaining that he had done so remembering your style preference for him.

Soon your mother was gone, leaving you alone.

On that autumn evening, you could write an entire essay for how many vivid details you remember.

Beginning with the initial moments of embarrassment, promptly eclipsed by S.coups with his usual irony, which you had learned for many years to counter.

To continue with the thousands of questions and answers you both had. Time had passed, yet your memories of each other had crystallized. In difficult times, he admitted to thinking about your friendship, and you confided in him about your nostalgia for what you had.

He had now begun a singing career, although his company could only pay him enough to live in an apartment near the university, where he sometimes attended classes.

He explained how your mother showed up at one of his early fansigns to propose that the two of you move in together, and how for a year you had been oblivious of this plan. You smiled and noticed how years had passed, yet his method of communicating things through gestures and laughing had not changed.

Immediately, he got interested in you as well, asking you many questions and listening attentively to your responses. You recalled the last nighttime conversation you had with S.coups, the one that divided your fates. And that vivid memory returned to him as well.

The temper of fate had you both laughing - the talk that had divided you remembered the one that had brought you together.

Your best friend mentioned how he no longer slept that well from that night, oblivious that you remembered how you fell asleep holding each other with dry tears on your faces.

The hot tea you were sipping turned quickly into beer and chips, and your chats became increasingly hazy as the sleep began to mix with the alcohol.

You awoke in your bed the next morning, only to discover that S.coups had brought you there. You recognized you were wearing pajamas after looking in the mirror.

Your face turned very red.

But after that initial reaction, you realized you were still wearing the clothing from the previous day underneath, so you laughed at the boy's odd action of kindness.

You walked to the kitchen after a short shower and noticed a still-steaming breakfast on the table. With it there was a note with recognizable handwriting warning you that he had gotten up early because his practice began at 7 a.m. and that he had made you your favorite breakfast, hoping that it hadn't changed over the years.

And it hadn't changed, just as your feelings for that boy hadn't.

Or so S.coups thought...but just as milk for breakfast had been replaced by coffee in your tastes, had your feelings of simple friendship been replaced by anything else?

While these thoughts raced through your mind, you prepared for your first day of college. Anxiety was now accompanied by the reassuring consciousness of being near to your best friend, and you entered the structure that would house you for the next five years, charged with energy.

The fourth vivid memory you have of you and your best friend is during a refreshing spring night when everything changed.

You'd get used to living with S.coups while meeting many new people - from college classmates to everyone in your best friend's group.

A thousand exams were stressing you out, and as the seasons changed, so did your emotions. However, unlike seasons, which must follow an endless cycle that has already been programmed, humans are doomed to an end after traveling the straight stretch that is unpredictable life.

You'd started spending your days and evenings together again. You stayed in your room at first to concentrate, while he stayed in his to avoid disturbing you with music. But before you knew it, you were both in the living room working on your assignments. You'd spend hours studying on the computer or in your books, while S.coups sat on the couch with his headphones on and his eyes closed, imagining the choreography he had learned or humming the choruses of his songs. You'd gone from maximum distance between cities to smallest proximity while sleeping curled on the couch with Studio Ghibli movies playing in the background.

It happened that you would be invited to parties and the two of you together would go without even planning it. And if you were late working for your small job that you had found for yourself, you never had to go home alone - there was always S.coups to drive you home.

You enjoyed long, relaxed drives in the fall and winter, as well as delightful evenings, particularly during the warmer months.

Everyone you knew had doubted your friendship at some point - in fact, everyone was certain that you were having a secret relationship. But every time that topic was posed to you, you denied it, remembering that you had been "best friends from childhood."

Back to the vivid memory from the spring night: the night after your last exams for the school year, the same night S.coups talked to you under the full moon as he had done on that summer night when you were children.

When you checked your phone, it was 6.06 p.m.; you should have been ready for dinner with S.coups in less than half an hour. You'd picked that evening to celebrate the end of your examinations and the start of his first concert tour.

You were in the bathroom getting dressed when you heard S.coups singing from his room. And you were well aware that he only sang out on two occasions, during concerts, or when he was happy. The thought reassured you, and you instinctively smiled at the prospect of going out to dinner with him.

Not that you hadn't done it before, but something felt different this time, perhaps because of your incredible sixth sense.

For the first time, you had no idea where you were going; only he had thought of it, and he had officially asked you to be free that evening because he had something special planned for you. Although he had previously given up after your insistence on the surprise disclosure, he had made no move at that point.

To add to the list of surprises, that time he did not seek your advice on what to wear.

All of this worsened your anxiety, which was tempered by the sound of S.coups's voice in the next room.

You spent the entire afternoon in your wardrobe putting on clothes because you had no idea where you were going. You had tried on every possible clothing, from skirts to dresses to jeans, but in the end, you had chosen one that made you feel comfortable. You would have dared a little more with black shoes and more detailed makeup that enhanced the aspects of your face that you valued the most.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door just as you finished applying your crimson lipstick.

You knew your time in the bathroom was over and chose to finish and go to your room.

S.coups came in as you were leaving. He had the clothing he was going to wear with him, and despite your sneaky glimpse, he pushed you out of the bathroom, mocking your impatience.

As a result, you returned to your room and finished getting ready.

You finished at 6:46 p.m. and waited for him to exit the bathroom.

Meanwhile, you had begun working on your crochet project, because you promised yourself that you would begin as soon as you finished your exam session. You were so busy with counting the stitches that you didn't notice when the hairdryer noise stopped, and S.coups came out of the bathroom.

You only recognized when someone touched your shoulder, and you almost threw what you were holding at him. After looking up and seeing him, you realized that you had not only lost count of the stitches but also more than a few beats.

He was wearing the white turtleneck T-shirt he had put on the first time you had seen each other in years, with a black blazer over it and plain pants of the same color. His hair was carefully put backward with gel, and a trickle of makeup was barely perceptible on his face.

For a moment you felt inadequate, and not dressed enough for how he had put himself.

"C'mon stop looking so good every time, dumbass" until this unexpected comment of his brought you back to reality.

"Look who's talking," you replied.

It was natural for you to exchange compliments, but it was never something too explicit or automatic as on that night.

"Let's go, or we'll be late."

"You're the one who took forever to get ready!"

"Yeah, you aged so much that you looked like a grandmother while working with those wires."

"HEY! Don't make fun of my crochet, I'm slowly learning."

"Croissant- what?"

And that's what you were talking about as you walked toward the car that would take you to the place chosen by S.coups.

You climbed into the car, and the first song that started was BLOSSOM by Enhypen.

Scoups started telling you about how he had met the members of that group and how everyone had been super friendly. But you couldn't focus on what he was saying at the time because he seemed to be the only one who had your attention.

He called out your lack of attention two or three times, but you instantly lied and said you were focused on the song and began humming it. So he didn't question it and began singing along with you.

So you were back in the car together, singing your favorite songs at the top of your lungs.

The first vivid memory came back to you.

" S.coups was so sure he wanted to become a singer [...]

in all his plans, he was never alone - it was always Scoups and Yn."

And that was it, he had become a famous singer, and in his plans, you were really in his future plans too.

You finished singing There is a Light that Never Goes Out by the Smiths just as the car stopped - only later did you find out that S.coups had taken a longer ride to let you finish your songs.

Before you could open the door, he got up and opened it for you

"Oh, what a gentleman," you said to him.

And he responded by bowing his head slightly and chuckling.

The place was not far from where the car had been walking. So you managed to walk for less than five minutes, and by 7:04 p.m. you had arrived.

Outside, two big street lamps illuminated the area, and the entry had a large white windowed door. As soon as you walked in, a waiter approached you, and the sight of S.coups was enough for you to be brought to a reserved table.

From the velvety chairs to the scarlet walls, the inside was all about the red color palette. Everything was surrounded by wide windows, allowing the sunset light to cast a lovely glow on the interior. The smell, on the other hand, was the first thing that struck you and brought back memories of going on family vacations and eating in locations that smelt like home.

That's what the place smelled like, everything you'd left behind when you moved to Seoul from your hometown - it had a reassuring scent of home.

Despite the red, the mood was not too elegant, and numerous people cheered the place with quiet talk.

You had been fascinated for so long that it was S.coups who jolted you awake by encouraging you to sit in the chair he moved for you.

"If you keep being a gentleman, look, I might end up falling for you" you chuckled as you sat down - and that comment had been more spontaneous than ever.

It was only manner, attitude, character, and soul that you had gradually fallen in love with.

"Noted"

"And you're even bringing me to an amazing place! Everything is really beautiful here."

"I know, I know that I have very good taste."

Shortly afterward the menu also came to you, and yours was along with your flower.

Surprised by the gesture, you looked at S.coups questioningly,

"Who knows! The waiter must have a crush on you."

"And how does he know what my favorite flower was?"

"Stalker?"

"Sure, sure.."

You ordered and were quickly served.

You both ended up taking two different things, and swapping them because you liked what he got better and vice versa - it had been that way since you were little.

S.coups told you how well the training was going, and at the same time how tiring they were, and you told him about various things that had happened to you.

You finally had time to talk since you had been particularly busy recently.

You recall standing in silence numerous times, watching how the light of the sunset highlighted his face, to the point where you felt compelled to photograph him to save that memory forever.

As the sun had set, so too had your dinner ended; and of course, it had ended with dessert even though both of you were quite full.

"Come on, I still have to take you somewhere!"

You nodded, and both of you got up to go pay.

He was quicker in handing the card to the cashier, who only commented with a wistful sigh saying: "Oh how beautiful is the young love."

Both of you did not respond, so were you both against that meaning, or did you not want to embarrass the other? Or maybe both?

You would exit and turn away from where the car was. You turned left again and entered what looked like a park. The streetlights that were there slowly diminished until there were no more.

If you had not had him by your side, you would have probably run in fear. But by following him without asking too many questions you could still feel safe.

The moment was silent, and the only noise you could hear was your heels and a slight movement of the leaves. The place had grown darker and darker, and again, the only light illuminating you was that of the full moon.

Unconsciously you attached to his jacket to do not lose him, and then your hand had reached down and entangled with his. You walked for ten minutes when he stopped and asked you to close your eyes.

You, trusting him, did so.

He came beside you and let you cling to his arm again so you would not fall...but you slipped, and you both fell.

You opened your eyes in fright, and before you even realized where you were, you laughed as you realized that both of you were now sitting on the floor.

A collective laughter began as soon as he realized that you had not been seriously hurt.

As soon as you looked into each other's without saying a word you began to laugh heartily, partly because of the funny situation and partly because you both felt the atmosphere lighter.

You were still on the ground, you had not moved, and your bodies were very close.

On that spring night, your laughing filled the silence, and when you opened your watery eyes again - this time from happiness - you heard him say "And here's to you, Seoul."

The last word, which reminded you of the boy's broken voice on a winter night, had now been replaced with a new memory.

It was now forever associated with his cheerful voice and with the time when you were looking down on the city from above.

The lights illuminated it, but your distance still allowed you to see the stars in the sky and the moon that shone most of all.

The more you try to recall that vivid memory, the more you begin to notice how many times your gaze had crossed and how you had been the center of the boy's attention.

But this time you had felt it, and you had taken your dumbfounded gaze off the beautiful sight and set your eyes on him as well.

Proud as he was, he had not taken his gaze off, and so you did the same.

Thus you noticed the moon reflected in his eyes as it illuminated his lips with its pale light.

And, certainly, you were looking at his lips openly by this point - menter his gaze shifted from your mouth to your right eye to your left eye, forming an imaginary triangle.

"It's okay if childhood best friends kiss sometimes, isn't it?"

His sudden sentence had amazed you, for you already looking at him so intensely, so closely had been enough to wake up the butterflies in your stomach.

"Mh, I would say yes."

His eyes first widened in amazement and soon after closed to move closer to you and join your lips.

A kiss full of passion, his hands took your face as you moved closer to him for full contact. It was a kiss the two of you had longed for, and almost 20 years of you were in that moment.

His body and yours were incredibly close, you could feel his heart beating wildly, or maybe it was yours? Or it was both of your hearts quickened by the moment so intense?

As soon as you broke away you timidly rested your head on his right shoulder - by now, you were so close that you were practically laying on his shoulder. You didn't have the boldness - and the breath to speak - so he was the one to say:

"Maybe best friends from childhood do these things sometimes... but can I be your boyfriend to do it whenever I want?"

And that was the fourth vivid memory of you and your best friend during a spring night when everything changed.

But, actually, feelings just revealed themselves to both of you as the seasons of your vivid memories changed.

notes: awop this was my first long fic, thank you so much for reading !! idc if the school part of the story sounds impractical, it’s for the plot; "bleu byzantin" is the name of the perfume I associate with S.coups!! 100% rec

I hope you like it!! ;

comments, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated ♡

161 notes · View notes

bunniekittiee · 6 months

Text

Birth Control Crisis

Doing this for all of my mfs who have had bad experiences with birth control and it made them depressed, bipolar, crazy, etc. I was right there too, and I just started another brand of pills because my last ones were not making me feel good. So I'm writing this from my own experience, think of it as a vent piece. Also this is with a fem. reader btw

Characters: Raiden and Bi-Han

Warnings: Mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts, mental health crisis

Raiden-

The Thunder God did not understand the purpose of oral contraceptives right away until his girlfriend explained it to him. After learning more about it, he felt guilty. Although she was taking it because her periods were draining and horrific every month, it still did not settle with him that there were many side effects that could harm her. Blood clots, skipping periods, spotting, diabetes, heart disease, strokes, absolutely anything could go wrong if her body reacted to them negatively. But what made him the most concerned was the mental health part of it. Raiden read over the big paper that came with the pills that described instructions and side effects, and the most alarming one to him was the mental toll it could possibly take.

But he hoped for the best, and he supported her no matter what.

Adjustment was hard. Her breasts were sensitive to touch and ached for a couple of weeks. Wearing a bra made it more uncomfortable, but any fabrics that rubbed against them also made it worse. Raiden would gently massage them for his girlfriend if she asked. She frequently got headaches that turned into migraines which made it hard for her to go out for dinners or be around bright lights. But Raiden still did his best to make sure she was well. He knew it was just the adjustment period and she would be okay in the end.

That was, until her moods began to change. More agitated, she was snappy with her boyfriend. Sometimes she picked fights, sometimes she took something Raiden said out of context, or sometimes she straight up ignored him.

As much as he tried to sympathize for her, his feelings were hurt. His thoughts screamed at him that she was beginning to experience the worse side effects of the birth control pills, but he continued to tell himself that she would adjust.

One fateful day that changed his whole perspective and attitude was a very eventful one. She had known prior of Raiden's crush on Kitana due to Kung Lao's gossiping, but she had never brought it up to Raiden. Raiden didn't think much of it, and one day he was catching up with Kitana at the Wu Shi Academy when from afar, she had spotted them together. Sitting on a bench. Close proximity.

This scene warped her mind. With the depression, pent-up anger, and extreme mood shifts, this was the straw that broke the camel's back. Anger flaring and her emotions at a high, she turned away quickly from them, walking back to her and Raiden's home that they shared. Her mind was frazzled. How could he do this to her? Didn't he know how sensitive she was? How miserable in her body she was? Was it because she gained weight since starting the pills? What was it?

Why wasn't she good enough?

Raiden bid goodbye to Kitana and made his way home, a little anxious to get back. He felt impending doom, like he was going to arrive to something that was very alarming. It made him quicken his pace.

Their home was a disaster. Raiden felt his heart lurch as he saw photos of them broken on the floor, glass strewn about. His immediate thought was that she was in danger, so he ran to their shared bedroom where she was shoving her clothes into bags.

"My love, what are you-"

"Shut up Raiden." She growled as she narrowed her eyes at him. "Do not play dumb with me, you fool."

He was taken aback. She was much more aggressive than before. This was something he was not used to at all. "What is this all about? Please, my love, we can talk about this. What is going on with you?"

"Go to your other lover since she's so great. I knew I should have never trusted you. You are still hung up on her." She chuckled bitterly. Her eyes flashed with anger at him.

He pieced it together in his head what was going on. "Honey, Kitana and I were just catching up. There was nothing else behind it, I promise you."

"You speak lies, snake." She spat as she abruptly stopped packing. "How can I trust you? I don't believe a word out of your mouth!" Her voice was beginning to raise, and Raiden felt his patience was being tested.

"When have I ever broke your trust?" He questioned as he slowly began to approach her. "Please, you are being irrational and we can easily talk this out."

Jaw clenched, she grabbed a bag and pushed past Raiden. "Out of my way. Irrational? I'm being irrational now."

"Please come back. Let us try to figure it out." He pleaded as he followed her.

"Figure what out Raiden? There is nothing to figure out, and there is nothing you can say that will make it any better. Just let me go." She said angrily. He could not let her leave, not when this issue was unsolved.

"I cannot let you do that. Please, what is going on with you? You have been so mean and callous. What have I done wrong?" He asked her, standing in front of her and looking worried. "This is so unlike you."

This seemed to falter her movements, and it stunned her almost. The silence was long as she avoided eye contact and the stare boring into her face from him. He was waiting for his answer.

"You would not understand. And it is none of your concern. It is mine only." She said thickly.

Raiden grabbed her by her shoulders. "No. It is my concern whether you agree or not. Tell me what is going on."

She struggled to get out of his grip. "Let go!"

"No. Not until you tell me. Do you realize how much I love you? I cannot let you walk out that door without knowing what is going on inside of your head." He gently laid a hand on her cheek to pull her gaze to him. Her eyes watered as her anger burned, yet the misery she held began to crack. Raiden saw this right away and he knew he was getting somewhere. "Talk to me, my love."

She cried, she cried for a very long time. And Raiden held her, listening to her miserable cries that hurt his heart too. But he knew that it had to storm before a rainbow could form. So he let her cry, explaining to him between sobs that she felt depressed, on the verge of hurting herself, and how angry she was at everyone in her life. How it was easy to take it out on Raiden because he was the one she saw everyday. How jealous and bitter she was. How she sometimes wished she could go to sleep without waking up.

No doubt it would haunt Raiden for quite some time. His worries before her getting on those pills were now a nightmare come true, and now he had to pick up the pieces. First, she had to get off of those pills immediately. And Raiden did not want her on any type of contraceptives for a long time. Not until she fully recovered. It took a while to see his normal, bubbly girlfriend that he was used to seeing. She was not her normal self for some time, and Raiden made sure to be with her every step of the way. He took extra time to spend with her, he made sure she was kept busy while he was away, he took her out for dinner once, maybe twice a week so she had something to look forward to.

He wanted to help her no matter what. That was all that mattered to him. He just wanted her normal self to be back again, and he wanted her to be okay.

Bi-Han-

The Grandmaster was a busy man, and he thought his wife understood this well. Bi-Han did research on birth control pills for her wife as her periods were intolerable for her, and he almost did not want to give her the option of it. Of course, he did not want to see her in any pain, but the side effects and health risks concerned him. Really concerned him. So much so, he made her do check ups once a month to make sure that she wasn’t at any risk of forsaking her health.

The last visit, the medic had said she gained a little bit of weight which was normal on the pills, but she took it as an insult. Like there was something wrong with gaining weight.

Bi-Han did notice her weight fluctuations but he did not care enough to tell her or make it a big deal. Because it wasn’t. He still loved her all the same and thought she was just as beautiful as the day he laid eyes on her. Weight gain would not make him stray. As if anything at all would make him stray.

But she focused on it a lot. Sometimes, Bi-Han would catch her staring at her body in the mirror and tugging at her skin. Examining her body. He would tell her how beautiful she was, but she never seemed to believe him.

Bi-Han decided to plan to take her out on a date to Madame Bo’s. They hadn’t went out for some time, and he told her to get ready. As she was getting ready, Liu Kang had arrived to the Arctika with urgency. He grouped the brothers together and told them that he needed them now for a mission. There was an intruder in the timeline that they needed to take care of. Bi-Han did not want to go, as he had planned a date with his wife, but he had no choice.

So he walked back to his shared chambers where she was putting the last few touches of her makeup. “My love,” he said as he entered the room. “I am very sorry to say this, but I must cancel the date. Liu Kang needs us for a mission as it is urgent. I am very sorry. I will take you out sometime when I get back.”

She looked at him and frowned. “Okay. Be safe, Bi-Han.” He went to hug her, but she hugged him back stiffly. He wanted to question her but he had to leave as soon as possible.

On his mission, his mind was occupied as his brothers could tell. She was on his mind. Sure, she was disappointed that he had to leave, but it seemed like there was something more behind her behavior. He was worried. Really worried and anxiety flooded through him the longer he was gone. And unfortunately, the mission was longer than he had expected. He was gone for five days, and during those five days he was ridden with anxiety. He wanted to get back home to see his wife.

And the day finally came. He and his brothers rushed to get home. They were worried about Bi-Han because he was quieter than usual and did not sleep much. They wondered if there was something wrong with his wife, but they did not ask.

Entering the palace, he rushed to their chambers in hopes that she was there waiting for him. But he was stopped by Sektor.

“I am happy to see you back. I need to talk to you.” Sektor said.

“Talk to me later, Sektor. I do not want to deal with work at the moment.” Bi-Han replied dryly as he tried to walk past him. But Sektor stopped him again.

“It is about your wife.”

“Is she okay?” The anxiety was now making him nauseous.

“After you left, she, what’s the best way to describe it?” He thought for a moment as Bi-Han impatiently waited. “She had a very bad episode and reaction to you leaving her. She did not leave your chambers, she stopped eating, she only slept and cried from what the servants told me.”

Bi-Han felt his heart pang. “Is she in there now?”

Sektor grimaced. “She tried to hurt herself, Grandmaster. I was lucky to find her in enough time to stitch her wounds. She is in the infirmary.”

The Grandmaster did not know whether to be angry at her or really sad. He stalked off to the med bay to see her. He was full of mixed emotions. Why would she do this to herself? Why did she do this to him? Why was she like this?

But the most important question that haunted him was…

Why did he not notice beforehand?

He was before the door to the infirmary and pushed his way inside. One of the medics had informed Bi-Han where she was, and Bi-Han had many questions.

“Did she say why she did this? Are her wounds grave?” He asked rather quickly.

“Her wounds will scar. There was quite a lot of them, but they were small. And we assessed her mental health and she is not well, Grandmaster.” The medic explained as his heart panted more. “She is mentally unstable. I believe it is due to her contraceptives.”

He nodded his head. He was hurt. Hurt that she did this to herself and he was not there to help her. He arrived at her room and entered. She was asleep, arms in bandages as she curled into a small ball. Bi-Han walked to sit beside her, and she awoke at the sounds of the chair.

“Bi-Han.” She breathed.

“Why did you do this to yourself?” He asked gruffly. “Are you pathetic?” He was angry. Angry at the world he supposed.

Her eyes watered. “If you are going to berate me, then leave me alone.”

“I don’t understand you.” Bi-Han replied. “Why did you do it? Was it for attention? I don’t get it.”

“Why would you?” She said with her voice raising. “You don’t understand how I feel. What I feel. You never will!” Tears now streamed down her face. Bi-Han’s heart fell to his stomach.

“Then talk to me and tell me what is going on.” He said as he crossed his arms. “Please, I want to know what is going on with you. I want to hear it from you.”

She cried very much, but she explained it all to Bi-Han. How much she hated herself. How she felt depressed and suicidal. How she felt like no one cared and how she felt like a burden. He listened to her intently as he held her hand, gently holding her as well while she sobbed into his shoulder. She told him that she felt unloved when he had to cancel on her, despite it not being his fault, she still could not help but feel that way. And it made her feel guilty.

Bi-Han was incredibly hurt that she felt that way and she did not tell anyone. He was angry at himself rather than her for not knowing what was truly going on. How he ignored the signs.

But now, it was clear to him. And he wanted to make everything right again. He took care of her wounds despite how much it affected him seeing those self inflicted wounds on her body. He made sure he was with her almost 24/7. He made sure she was okay mentally, and although some days were harder than others, she battled them like a true warrior.

And he made sure to make up him bailing on her that day. He took her out to eat and let her eat as much as she wanted. And afterwards, he took her to the shops and bought her a few gifts. Seeing her smile and face light up was all worth it no matter how much he spent. Because he understood that he could have lost her that week he was gone.

Things were never normal at first, it took a very long time for her to return back to her regular self. And Bi-Han had made sure she never returned onto oral contraceptives again. He could not bear to lose her again to medication. He lost her once, he would not do it again.

289 notes · View notes

pearlywritings · 1 year

Text

The birth of the Dawn and the Dusk

synopsis: You planned your husband’s birthday months ago and even so something happens to not go according to the script.

pairing and characters: Diluc x fem!reader, your twin sons Rufus and Lucas, Alberich family (Kaeya, his wife and daughter Callie), Adelinde

tw: established relatioships, domestic moment, pregnancy stuff, fluff, a little bit hurt/comfort

word count: 10.8k+ words

author’s note: so late for my man’s birthday,,, But I am happy this one is finally out! Also there is a surprise at the end of the fic~ Hope you’ll enjoy everything!!!

Family AU masterlist

You feel so tired. Body aches and eyes hurt - you barely managed to fall asleep tonight, keeping your husband awake too to coax you into a state of slumber. This also added emotional stress, the clawing guilt for depriving him of sleep right before such a meaningful and happy day, but the man kept lovingly reassuring you that he didn't mind and would support and comfort you always, especially now, when you are so vulnerable, just days away from welcoming your baby into this world.

Diluc was nothing but a saint throughout both of your pregnancies. However, while the first one was challenging for him too, because he was worried about the new role he'd have to fulfill and if he'd do it successfully, this one was easier on his end, so he channeled all his energy to you, being there for every step and every time you got overwhelmed, which, at first, happened way too often. Your other two kids used to be all over you asking questions about their unborn sibling, and while you love your angels to death, you truly do, - your hormones and their vigor sometimes created a bad mix. Luckily, it quickly got better, because Diluc took his time to explain to your boys why their mommy might be emotional or look really really tired, and that she isn't upset with them and they need to be more careful around her. After that, the three of them became your anchor, with boys cuddling to you quietly to soothe and console you every opportunity they had, and Diluc arranging everything for your utmost comfort.

With all of this you were determined to make this year's celebration of his birthday as amazing as every other you two shared. You weren't sure if you would have given birth already or still heavily pregnant when the 30th of April came, but you knew that in any outcome you'd be too exhausted to arrange anything. That is why you started your meticulous planning half-way into your pregnancy. Everything was a secret from Diluc, just as always, and he oh so tenderly smiled, whenever you tried to hide the notes you were making, only teasing you by stepping closer and hugging you from behind. But he was a fair man, he never glanced at your scribbles and plans, only burying his face in your hair and asking to stay like this with you and the baby for a little bit. It actually helped you to concentrate a little bit better.

In March the final version of your plan was already passed to the maids who'd be responsible for organizing and decorating, and you couldn't help but feel pride when they giggled and excitedly murmured upon checking your instructions. You did a great job.

But you must've also done something bad, if whatever gods of fertility above made it their goal to mess with your sleep schedule - the baby is way too active, keeping you awake at an ungodly hour, just like tonight. So exhausting…

You can feel movements behind your back and a moment later a pleasant warmth is spreading all over your stomach and back. A soft whine escapes your lips, but it’s quickly shushed by a quiet murmur next to your ear.

“Shh… My flame, it’s okay, I got you…” You hug a pillow in front of you tighter, burying your face in it, letting your husband cuddle to your back, keeping his palm spread over your bump. He always knows when the baby gets cranky, sometimes even before you feel it, ready to calm down both of you with the help of his presence and vision.

Pretty soon you feel comfy again, surrounded by pillows and a literal heater of a man, who peppers soft kisses along your bare shoulder. His heavy bangs tickle your skin, prompting the corner of your lips to twitch in a shadow of a smile; an arm, wrapped around your middle, doesn’t put any weight on your waist, perfectly controlled by sheer strength of its owner; his whole body becomes support to your back instead of a long pillow he removed previously to take its place and he playfully nudges your feet when you attempt to tangle your legs with his.. Oh, you love this man.

Suddenly a loud noise from the outside worms its way into your lulled conscience, and you flinch. Slowly your eyelids slide open and you groan quietly, ears catching a dissatisfied huff from the male beside you.

“I told them to be careful…” Diluc grumbles under his breath, but doesn’t leave his spot next to you, only lifting his hand slightly and starting to rub your stomach in soothing circles.

“Mmm… What time is it?” Pushing the pillow away you rub at your eyes, yawning. Your husband cranes his neck to look at the wall behind and hums.

“A little past ten.”

“Ten..? Oh no…” With a pout you kick some other pillows (and accidentally his legs) too, stifling another yawn with your hand. “I was supposed to wake up earlier for your special day… I am sorry I slept for so long.”

“Nonsense,” he digs his elbow in a mattress and lifts his upper body to reach for your cheek, smothering it with pecks. “You are nine months pregnant, my love. I would’ve let you sleep all day long, if I didn’t know you worked hard to make today exceptional for me.”

“Oh…” You sigh, finally blinking the sleep, that was clinging to your eyelids, off and throw an arm behind you, rolling your back a little, practically placing yourself on your husband, stretching with a content noise. Diluc sees an opportunity to wrap both arms around you, and carefully draw you even more on top of himself, face hidden in the side of your neck.

“Archons, you are pretty,” the heat engulfs your heart, born from his adoring tone, and spreads in tender waves through your whole being.

“Don’t you dare say having me in your arms is enough of a present for you,” your chiding makes him smile and shake his head.

“As much as that’s true, I won’t, for your sake,” you squint like a cat under the sun, when he places a kiss under your jaw. “Are you ready to get out of bed? Half an hour ago when I came downstairs, and immediately got kicked out by Adelinde, I managed to catch a glimpse of Kaeya and our sons. I am sure Callie and her mom have joined them by now too.”

“Oh, that’s great!” You widely smile, sleep forgotten as if the need in it was always non-existent. “Yes, I want to start getting ready. Please, help me, ‘luc.”

“With greatest pleasure.”

Letting the Alberich family spend the night was one of your greatest decisions made in preparations for Diluc’s birthday. There is no way to guess when throughout the day you might feel light-headed or tired, so them being at the Winery from the very morning till the very evening increases the chances to get an opportunity when all of you can enjoy the celebration together.

When you descend down the stairs, with Diluc practically glued to your sight, holding your arm to support, Kaeya’s face is the first one you spot among the others. He looks absolutely cozy with his pajama-like-looking pants, matching shirt and a knee-long robe, hanging on his shoulders untied. His face lights up with a smile, when his eye lands on you two, and he hands one of the maids nearby the box he’s been holding previously.

“Aren’t these our dear birthday boy and his lovely wife?” His voice is smooth, never lacking his ever-present teasing lilt, as he makes his way to you.

“Don’t make it look like you see me for the first time today,” Diluc grumbles, letting go of your hand, so you could give your brother-in-law a side hug.

“Oh? I am sorry, Diluc, but could I really tell Adelinde not to kick you out? My charms do not work on this amazing woman.”

“Because this woman raised you and is immune to said charms,” the woman in question appears behind the Cavalry Captain, with a sweet smile plastered on her face. “Come on, go help your wife - I don’t doubt she is skilled, but three kids are still a handful.”

“Haha, aren’t you subtle? If I didn’t know how much you adore me, I’d say you are kicking me out,” the star-shaped pupil twinkles with concealed merit, to which the head maid tenderly scoffs.

“Gotta make it even between the brothers,” she teases him back, and he gasps in pretense hurt, to which Diluc rolls his eyes, but a smug-looking smile doesn’t escape your sight.

“Sure, sure,” Kaeya jerks his chin up, still faking the offense, and turns around to leave. The woman shakes her head at his antics, short blond hair gently swaying, complimenting the fond look on her face. With one of her boys gone, she devotes her attention to the other, smiling apologetically.

“I am sorry for shoving you out the way I did, Master Diluc, but Lady Y/n really wanted to be here when you came to witness what she had planned for you. I hope you can forgive me for forbidding you from the first floor of your own house.”

“I can never be mad at you,” Diluc’s lips form a small smile as well, and he steps closer, gingerly embracing her. “After all, you raised me too.”

The older woman chuckles, patting his back, and your gaze softens. Every year you get lucky to see this display of special motherly affection, the one where you get sad a little, because your child grows older, further and further from the little boy you used to know and take care of, but you still are so happy for how far he managed to come. That’s what Adlinde’s face tells you every single year, those are the tears of joy that are brimming her summer-green eyes.

“Adelinde,” you softly call and she glances at you, with her arms still wrapped around her master’s, her kid’s broad back. “I haven’t had an opportunity to congratulate my husband yet, would you like to be the first this year?”

Vibrant eyes slightly widen, and then unspoken affection swirls in them.

“Thank you,” your heart skips a beat, crumbling under the sincerest gratitude the woman offers you for simply giving her such an opportunity.

She turns to Diluc again, and a small, delicate hand reaches up to brush away the fiery bangs that got even wilder as the man got older. A thumb runs over his cheekbone, feeling a small scar underneath, remembering, comparing to the pouty rosy cheek of a little boy, who used to cling to her skirt and seek her attention and advice, with that adorable sparkle in his warm ruby eyes and a wide grin with a tooth missing. Now a tall man is standing in front of her, who suffered many losses and hardships she couldn’t possibly protect him from, but who eventually found his happiness and found it in himself to fully enjoy it.

And that’s all she ever wished for him.

“Happy birthday, my boy,” her voice trembles with emotions, but she manages to get a hold of herself. The other hand comes to cup his other cheek and tilt his head down, so, standing on her toes, she could place a lingering kiss to his forehead. “Happy thirty eighth year of your life, my dawn. I am so proud of how far you’ve come and I wish for nothing more, but for your happiness to grow. I know your father would tell you the same.”

Oh, Archons. That last phrase made you emotional, hitting your poor heart even harder than the tender exchange between the two. And seeing the look on your husband’s face, the quiet hitch of his breath, the slight tremble of his lower lip and unspoken yearning in his flaming eyes, you have to silently excuse yourself from the scene, too scared to ruin the moment by your very possible waterworks. You’ll let the two have their moment, meanwhile you can see what your sons and brother-in-law’s family is up to.

You find the five of them in a separate room, which was long ago reconstructed and redecorated into something akin to a living room (additional wall was added to divide the hall part from this space to grant you and kids privacy if any partner of Diluc stopped by to discuss the matters with either him or Elzer). Both boys and the girl are sitting on the carpet-covered floor, vigorously discussing something - you even catch the pieces of the argument they’ve been having for months. Ever since the twins’ father agreed to consider getting them a dog, they and their older cousin could not shut up about what name the creature should have. At first it was cute, now it’s the reason for a headache, when the three of them cannot reach an agreement.

But the childish debate is quickly tuned out when you recognize the adorable new two-piece indoor outfits you purchased specifically for today. Your older son has the sleeves of his orange pullover rolled while he wildly gesticulates, the usual unruly mass of his untied hair swaying from side to side like a flame turned upside down. Lucas on the other hand has his cheek supported by his fist with an elbow digging in his knee, clad in yellow pants, and watches his brother and cousin with an 'I am so done with them' look, so uncommon for a six-year old, that it almost makes you snort. Callie, wearing similar in style pants and pullover, but sharing a pretty blue color with her father, is actively arguing with Rufus, however there is something different from the redhead's pure decisiveness. There are clearly some hints of Kaeya's mannerism, especially that quirk of her lips. What a cheeky twelve-year old.

“Y/n!”

Your attention is quickly drawn to the smiling woman, who is rising from the couch she’s been sharing with her husband just seconds ago. Mirroring her smile, you swiftly rub your eyes, getting rid of happy tears, caused by a scene at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you okay?” Concern is laced in your friend’s tone, as she walks to you and puts her palms on your elbows in a comforting gesture. You only shake your head, making a small step closer, so you can give her a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I am good, don’t worry. Just saw something very heart-warming.”

“Oh, alright,” she sighs in relief. “Are you hungry?"

Good question, actually. You concentrate on what your body feels and craves, softly rubbing your belly. No, still only the aching and ever-present fatigue.

"Not necessarily, but if you all haven't eaten yet, we can do it now. Diluc should soon join us, and after breakfast we can start our stay-inside party."

Your friend nods in agreement, squeezing your elbows affectionately, and then turns to look at the three kids still sitting on the floor, so engrossed in their conversation that they seem to not have even noticed you enter.

"Hey, kids,” only Lucas perks up at his aunt’s call, while Rufus and Callie keep arguing, ignoring everything around them. “Kids,” is said firmer, but still to no avail. As the younger twin gets up from the floor, you share a knowing look with the woman.

“Callie Alberich.”

“Rufus Ragnvindr.”

And as if by magic the conversation is cut short, two sets of worried eyes staring back at the unamused-looking moms.

“Good, we finally have your attention,” Mrs Alberich hums, taking your hand and leading you to the armchair, helping you to sit down. “Now, who’d be a dear and go to the kitchen to let the maids know they can serve breakfast?”

“I will, mom,” the girl says before Rufus can open his mouth and carefully pushes him and his brother in your direction. “You two, go say hi to your mama.”

Kaeya’s eye twinkles, when he easily guesses his daughter’s intentions, but keeps his mouth shut, watching his nephews practically sprint to their mom and climb onto the armrests.

“She went to congratulate uncle Diluc, didn’t she?” His wife quietly asks, taking a seat next to him, and the man only chuckles, wrapping an arm around her waist, bringing her even closer. Yeah, his girl really likes her uncle, adores even, which has been absolutely mutual from the moment the redhead was handed the small baby to hold for the first time. The Dawn Winery owner has always played an important role in the girl’s life, and before his sons were born, the man was absolutely wrapped around his niece’s finger. She doesn’t remember that, of course, but she does remember how she begged for cousins, and feels very proud of the fact, claiming that it’s because of her request uncle and aunt now have two cute boys, whom she really-really loves and enjoys spending time with, despite being twice as old as them.

But uncle is still her favorite out of the whole Ragnvindr family. So getting first to the man and wishing him a happy birthday is an absolute must.

“I am sure she won’t forget about breakfast,” Kaeya hums eventually, focusing on his sister-in-law and nephews, who, in their orange and yellow costumes paired with the color of their hair, remind him of two little candlelights.

“I love the cozy style you decided on for the clothes,” he comments, drawing your attention from twins, who settled against the sides of your stomach, resting their heads on your shoulders.

“Really?” An excited smile worms its way onto your face. “I am glad you think so! I thought they were perfect for spending the day inside."

"They are!" Mrs Alberich claps her hands together. "I adore this pretty dress and yours looks so wonderful too! The fabric is very soft, when I put it on this morning I thought I was hugged by a fluffy cloud. Oh, what color does Diluc have by the way?"

"Papa has gray" Rufus chimes, before reaching out to your stomach to gently pat it. "Mama, did you get the baby one too?"

"I did, Ru," you reassure him, remembering the cute white onesie you decided to purchase on a whim to match the vibe. "Soon she or he will be able to wear it."

"Speaking of the baby, you've never told us the name you picked. Is that a secret?"

"It really isn't,” your tone is soft, and your gaze is tender, as you look down at your belly. “We do have a small list, but our decision was to choose when the baby is born. We agree on every name on that list, and Diluc believes it's just going to click which one is perfect when we see them, just like it happened with these two," you turn your head from side to side, kissing each boy's cheek, making them squeal happily. In reality it was a little bit different.

Obviously you didn't expect to have twins, so your list was created on the basis of eventually picking only one name. But when there appeared to be two babies, two little boys, everything had to be reconsidered. You and your husband (surprisingly more him than you) thought it'd be cute if there was something that would show their twinly bond. That's when it clicked quickly - Diluc came up with Rufus and you did so with Lucas, affectionately calling them Ru and Lu. This time you also considered different kinds of name combinations for possible outcomes, but ultimately decided to let the future tell.

"Okay, that's fair," Kaeya smiles, putting his cheek on top of his wife's head - the woman made herself comfortable on his shoulder, watching you and your sons with a sweet smile of her own. "Promise to invite us over when you feel strong enough to have visitors to meet another member of the Ragnvindr family?"

"Of course, I promise, Kae. And you'll be the first ones to kno- aaah!"

Everyone in the room jumps when a sharp cry of discomfort escapes you. Unwrapping your arms from around the twins, you lean forward and clutch your stomach. Surprised, the boys get down onto the floor and move right in front of you, worry evident on their faces. You mean to reach out to comfort your babies, to reassure him, but another surge of pain prevents you from doing so, and you groan, hands still on the stomach. Kaeya is next on his feet, closely followed by his wife, and just a second later the man scoops both redheads in his arms, while your female friend crouches before you, with both palms on your knees.

"Kaeya, boys - out. I'll handle it."

"But mama is hurt-," Lucas tries, not taking his eyes off of your curled figure, as his brother attempts to wrestle his way out of his uncle’s hold. Both look panicked, and the Cavalry Captain has to gently shush both of them, pressing their bodies even closer to his chest..

“Don’t worry, she is alright and she will be alright when we return, okay? Now, let’s go and find your father-”

“Oh.”

The man stumbles over his words, hearing a surprised noise, and immediately glances up at you, met with an expression of total disbelief.

“Archons, what is it? Y/n, please, don’t scare us like tha-”

“I think my water just broke.”

He barely holds himself back from cursing in front of his little nephews. His wife, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, absolutely unphased, with not even an ounce of worry present on her face or in her actions. She rises from her crouched position and turns to look at her husband, who in a second became an anxious wreck, as if it is his beloved who is having contractions.

“Love,” she speaks calmly, “take the boys, find Callie and Diluc and get the kids ready to go out for a walk. Also ask someone to inform the midwife that Y/n has possibly gone into labor. And for the Seven’s sake, don’t dump this information onto your brother as if someone is dying, we don’t need a panicked dad right now.”

“Got it,” his legs start moving even before he thinks about it, and with two boys held in a death grip, Kaeya runs out of the room. He startles a couple of maids in the hall, along with Diluc, who’s just walked out of the kitchen, holding his niece’s hand. The hero of today’s occasion lifts his eyebrows, staring at the disheveled form of his brother, and an uneasy feeling starts rising in his chest when he notices the barely concealed panic in his periwinkle eye.

“Kaeya, what’s going on?”

“Okay, birthday boy, I need you to stay calm no matter what I tell you now, alright?"

"Are you sure you are the one to tell me to stay calm?" Red brows meet together in an alarmed manner. "What's gotten into you? Where are our wives?"

Another sharp cry, easily recognised as yours, is heard from the living room, and in a quieted hall everyone is finally becoming aware of something going on, something very unplanned.

"Um, so, as I said, stay calm, 'luc. However hard it is to believe, your wife might’ve gone into labor.”

“What!?”

Loud gasps of the maids fall almost deaf to Diluc’s ears when he hears the news. Immediately one of the girls chirps that she’ll go find the midwife and quickly scurries away, while two more run upstairs to go and check the room specifically prepared for such an occasion. Someone steps up and takes Callie, bringing her with Kaeya and twins somewhere else, but honestly, the redhead doesn’t notice it. The only thing his mind keeps repeating is that his wife needs him.

When he bursts into the living room you’ve already gotten onto your feet, one hand gripping Mrs Alberich’s shoulder and the other pressed to your stomach. The grimace on your face and heavy breathing is an evidence itself of your state, and Diluc appears at your side in a flash of gray and crimson, wrapping an arm around your back.

“My flame, keep breathing. Everything is alright,” his deep voice is comforting and you lean your forehead into his chest, whimpering.

You nod, letting go of your friend’s shoulder, and Diluc takes it as an opportunity to lift you in his arms - there is no way he’s making you walk, especially when the point of your destination is the second floor. You do not even complain, instead focusing on trying to relax the best you can, exercising proper breathing and counting.

“I am so sorry, ‘luc. I wanted this day to be special and now I am ruining it…”

“No, you are not,” he says firmly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Rather you are making it even more special. I know you worked hard, but I also know that all of it won’t go anywhere and we’ll have a moment to enjoy it properly afterwards. You are much more important right now, so let’s get you to the bedroom.”

Kaeya was right - it is hard to believe. Of course, it’s not clear yet, it still could be just false labor pains, but never in his entire life could Diluc imagine that one of his kids would be born on the same day he was. When he lays you down onto the bed with pristine white sheets and lets the midwife examine you, the heart in his chest is going absolutely crazy. He can’t bear to see that painful look on your face, how your pretty eyes squint and teeth are gritted, but he will rather fall dead in that same room, than leave it, leave you without his support.

You lift your hand and reach for him. Someone pushes a chair closer and he sits down, grasping your sweating hand with both of his and suddenly a memory flashes before his eyes. It’s been twenty years and he thought he has healed, but the rainy day and a man’s big hand he was clasping in his own come back to haunt him. His mind starts screaming. What if something goes wrong? What if he loses someone dear to him again? What if it’s the last time he feels the warm touch of the person who brought him out of his misery? What if it’s the last time he hears your voice and the distressed tone of it is what he’ll remember you like? Please, no, whoever is listening, don’t do it, don’t take you and the baby away from him, please, don't-

“Diluc,” his eyes snap open and he becomes painfully aware that he is shaking. But it's not about him, despite what day it is today. Right now everything is about you.

Inhaling deeply and sharply exhaling, he blinks away the images of the past and focuses on your face instead. It’s not twisted in pain now, instead you are smiling at him, the adoration in your eyes unmistakable and the squeeze you give his fingers is sobering.

“Did you hear that? It’s actually happening. My water actually broke. Our baby will be here soon. I can’t promise I won’t curse you back and forth like during the first time, but I’ll really try.”

At that moment, pushing the dread aside and leaning forward to press a sweet reassuring kiss to your lips, the man thinks that if it was legally allowed he’d marry you again.

It’s been a couple of hours since the Alberich couple left the Winery with all of the kids. It took Kaeya awhile to calm the boys down, while Callie remained uncharacteristically quiet, glancing at her mom from time to time, because her mother always knows what is going on, but this time, for some reason, isn't telling her.

Eventually both adults managed to persuade the three of them that they are on a mission to get some lovely flowers for Diluc and you - they made sure to pick different kinds that do not grow together for the process to take more time. Fortunately, it brought smiles back onto those cute little faces, and the couple let out a sigh of relief, watching their daughter and nephews, as the group went from one location to another. Lucas, being a dear he is, suggested that mom and dad deserved the biggest bouquets ever and Rufus doubled it, so now they are indeed on a mission to gather as many flowers as they can.

Making a pretty big circle, the five of them returned close to the Winery - but not quite. Settling near the Statue of the Seven, Kaeya stays to watch over the kids picking up windwheel asters and guard the bouquets they’ve already managed to create. The location allows him to oversee the vast grounds that belong to the Ragnvindr family, but also observe his wife’s figure getting smaller and smaller, but closer and closer to the main building. It was decided that soon everyone would get hungry, so she went to bring some food, but also to check on the situation at hand.

The sun hangs high in the sky and Kaeya squints in delight, letting the warm rays caress his face. Ah, what a wonderful day… With a puff of air he sits down and immediately lays his back on the soft ground, cracking his eye open. Not a cloud in sight, only the magnificent blue hues surrounding the brightest star, that’s the sight his brother deserves to have on his birthday - what a pity he can’t see it, stuck inside due to unplanned, though long-awaited, circumstances.

It is a perfect day for the twins’ sibling to be born, and for a brief moment a thought passes the Cavalry Captain’s mind - that maybe it’s the final step for Diluc to heal from all the pain and sorrow that whole 18th birthday situation caused him. Of course, it’s hard to tell, it was a seemingly endless nightmare after all, but he hopes for it, for this bundle of joy that is the redhead's third child to overshadow the loss of their father on this exact date.

Deep in his thoughts he doesn’t notice how Rufus comes closer, dividing equally the amount of flowers he’s gotten, putting one half in his dad’s pile and the other in mom’s one. Then he steps even closer, casting a small shadow across his uncle’s chest. Kaeya snaps out of it only when he feels a soft nudge, head turning and seeing that the boy carefully pushed the tips of his sandal against the lying man’s ribcage.

“What is it, Ru?” His voice sounds a bit lazy, but at least there is not even a hint of his initial panic - worry would only provoke the twins to feel concerned about the scene in the living room all over again, and he doesn't want that, their parents wouldn't want that.

The little flame in front of him watches closely with wide eyes, which in combination with wild red hair makes him look like a fluffed up owlet.

Totally Diluc’s kid.

“We picked a lot of flowers… When are we coming home? I wanna see mama and papa. And also I’m hungry…”

“Yeah, dad, me too,” Callie pops behind her cousin, staring at Kaeya with bright eyes. She’s holding a mix of windwheel asters and sweet flowers, and the keen dark eye spots a small ladybug crawling up one of the stems. Equally small white lie wouldn't hurt.

“Your aunt is setting an additional surprise right now,” yeah, that’s literally the best explanation he can give them, “but this one takes time, and we need to be patient for her, okay?”

“But if it’s a surprise, why did Uncle Diluc stay? Doesn’t make sense,” His daughter is too sharp sometimes, but that’s why he is proud of her.

“This one requires his presence, so she doesn’t have to worry about messing up. I believe you’ll like it, so let’s give them time. As for the lunch - our precious Snowflake will soon bring us something to eat.”

“Don’t call mom that in front of me,” Callie grumbles, kicking his hip, and the man gasps, hand immediately flying to grab the assaulted place.

“But snowflakes are pretty!” Lucas, who appeared somewhen during the conversation, stares at the older girl in confusion. “They are very pretty and have unique forms… Your mom is pretty and unique too!”

“I know she is, but sometimes it’s just argh. Oh! Doesn’t your father call your mother ‘my flame’?”

“Yes, he does,” Rufus confirms with a nod, sitting down onto the ground. Kaeya turns onto his side, ignoring the dull pain and supports his cheek with a fist. Well, this is amusing~

“Don’t you find it a little too much sometimes?” Both twins shake their heads, red bangs bouncing with the motion, and the girl sighs in exasperation. “Wait till you are as old as I am, you’ll realize how cringe it is.”

“What’s ‘cringe’?”

Kaeya snorts. It’s funny when a twelve-year old speaks of her age with such intonation. It never ceases to amaze him how well his daughter adapted in the role of an older sibling to her cousins. She quickly realized her leading position and it was and still is very clear in her attitude, especially right now, as she is educating them on the meaning of the word 'cringe'. She cares for them a lot though, so he can hardly find a situation where she abused her power in the dynamic the three of them have. Besides, both Rufus and Lucas are far from stupid - probably ones of the brightest kids he’s ever had encounters with, and already have their opinions, so despite loving and admiring Callie they still can fight her back verbally. The only difference is that this is Rufus’ style of handling arguments with her, while Lucas prefers more tranquil approaches. Watching the three interact, Kaeya can't help but wonder what kind of personality would the baby develop.

Ah, it’s going to get so much livelier~

It’s another half an hour, during which he sneakily stole the spotlight from his girl and entertained the kids with made-up, but attention-grabbing stories. His wife's arrival catches them all by surprise - just like everything else about her, as she shouts their names and waves at them the best she can with a basket hanging off of her elbow. She is not alone though. With delight overtaking their expressions, kids spot the most loving and kind (obviously favorite) maid at her side holding the rest of the baskets Mrs Alberich couldn’t carry on her own. Kaeya hasn't even sat up yet, and the kids are already speeding in her direction.

“Addieeeee!”

Overjoyed, in an instant they are all over her and the woman gently laughs, settling down the baskets and staying in a crouched position to hug all of them. As she is telling them to help her with unfolding the blanket, Kaeya rises to his feet, right in time to put his arms loosely around his wife's waist to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Thanks for the food and bringing additional help," he murmurs, smooching her again and taking the baskets away. Freed arms encircle his neck and soft lips press against his in return, stealing the man's breath away.

"Don't mention it. Adelinde figured we might need her, and she is right, personally I am at my wit's end," she sighs, glancing behind to make sure the kids are occupied with the task the head maid gave them. "As for the news - everything is going smoothly so far, but it'll take some more hours. Other maids suggested visiting Springvale or maybe going to the City, and I agree."

"Yes, that sounds reasonable…" Kaeya hums, inwardly admitting that some remaining weight has just been lifted off of his shoulders. "You think we'll have to return in the morning or…?"

"No. Before we left, Adelinde checked in with Diluc - apparently he'll send his falcon to deliver a message once everything is over."

Ah, yes… the falcon his brother personally trained once again just a couple of years ago after the passing of his very first winged companion. And once again Kaeya was that one person the bird will always find, no matter where he is.

"Delightful. Then let us have our lunch. What you've got there, hm?"

"What was supposed to be put for the celebratory breakfast we all missed. It'd be such a pity if the food went to waste, wouldn't it?"

"True," the Cavalry Captain sighs and, adjusting his hold on the baskets, leads both of them to the rest of their little group. “What a chaotic morning…”

The drawn together heavy curtains do not let a ray of a settling sun into the quiet room. The crimson painting the sky is undoubtedly beautiful, mesmerizing even, but no one dares to disturb your rest with a blazing color. The smell of freshly cleaned bedding is appeasing, but the fluffed up pillows that have the scent of your husband clinging to them is your main source of comfort - you faintly remember it, but you are sure of nearly snarling at whoever suggested changing the linen for them too before bringing you to the master’s bedroom. Poor maid must’ve been so scared, you’ll have to apologize to her later…

The slight guilt sparked by the memory is what makes you pass the line between dream and consciousness. You force your heavy eyelids open, but immediately squint a little from the light of the candles on the walls. A soft groan escapes your throat and you drop your head to the side, hiding from the light and blinking to make the eyes adjust. Succeeding in it, you take a quick look around the room, wondering if you were left alone to repose, or someone remained to monitor your condition.

That’s when you spot him. Or rather the gorgeous mane of ruby hair, shiny in the candlelight, thrown in a proper high ponytail, streaming down his upper back. He’s changed his clothes too - there is a hazy recollection of someone telling him to go and do so, and what a nice view it is, to see the gray pajama pants and pullover to be replaced with dark cherry - almost blackish - shirt, carmine vest and dark pants. But that’s not the most pleasing sight. Your heart almost melts, when the standing man turns around and you see a bundle of blankets delicately held in his strong arms. Vibrant eyes show every single emotion Diluc feels, looking at your baby. There is pure joy, happiness, bliss, love, promises to protect, to care, to cherish, to make every single day of life important and special. It’s so similar to the scene of nearly seven years ago, but without your husband bawling his eyes out with both arms occupied by twins. Well, maybe he did, a little, when you were resting, but you’ll never know.

You observe them for a little longer, the picture so perfect, you regret not having a Kamera in your hands right now to imprint a moment in a photo. Though you doubt you’d have strength to lift the thing enough to snap one and not make it blurry, so, just watching would suffice for now.

However Diluc’s senses are sharp, and when someone stares at him for longer than a couple of seconds - he knows. The warmth of the tamed flames seeps right through the eye contact, penetrating every cell in your body with welcomed heat. That may be the trick of the light, but his dark pupils dilate upon looking at you, and the blush creeps to your cheeks. Damn this man and him giving you looks like you are the whole world.

“Hey, love,” you softly call, the sound blending into the tender atmosphere, becoming a part of it, becoming Diluc’s source of oxygen for a brief second.

“Hello, my flame,” his voice can hardly mask the adoration and eagerness, with which he takes his next actions, makes it clear how excited he was for you finally awakening. With light steps he moves to the bed and carefully bends down. The touch of his lips is gentle, yet the feeling hidden behind it steals your breath away and your own lips part. Diluc murmurs something about wanting to give you so many kisses to compensate for the hours you spent in labor, and you breathlessly laugh at his adorable confession.

“It’s alright, ‘luc. Besides you are such a beautiful sight for a sore eye, how can I complain when my husband is all dressed up for me?”

“Oh, my flame,” his tone is oh so silken. “You are the beautiful one here. You looked so serene in your sleep, and now you shine like the brightest star.”

“Oh, stop that, I am sure I look like hell.”

“Not at all,” he shakes his head, long and fluffy bangs barely swaying. “You are wonderful. But how are you feeling? Need anything? Maybe you’d like to rest a bit more? I’ll take care of everything for you.”

You know he will, and this is one of the reasons that make him a great husband and an amazing father.

“No, no, I am fine, I feel better. It’s finally over. Our son is here.”

Yes, your son is here. Are you surprised it’s a boy again? Not really, there always was a gut feeling your older sons would have a little brother as their sibling, and by the red hairs you spotted when the baby was passed to you for the first time there is now a solid confirmation that Ragnvindr genes are insane.

“I want to hold him. May I?”

Without answering your question directly, Diluc carefully places the baby on the free space on the bed and helps you to adjust the pillows and sit up. Then the boy is instantly in your arms and Diluc kicks his shoes off to climb next to you. The sides of your heads touch, and you smile when his big hand is placed under yours, to provide additional support.

Your son is sleeping. So tiny and wrapped in all those blankets he is so peaceful. You swallow harshly to fight the tears back and shakily sigh, rapidly blinking. Rough fingers move your hairs away from your face and lovingly caress your cheek, reminding you that everything is okay.

“You did so well, my love… You are incredible, you know that?”

A choked chuckle erupts from your mouth and you sniffle.

“I am, am I not? But it’s also a miracle that he decided to come out right on your birthday.”

The man presses the firmest kiss he’s given you this evening to your temple and wraps his free arm around your shoulders, bringing you even closer. The thumping of his heart is palpable and makes you want to cry again.

“You know…” lifting your head, you come face to face with your husband, and there is a smile playing on his lips, one that is both bright and a bit melancholic. “Now there is one more reason to look forward to my birthday. To celebrate mine with you all and to celebrate his like that too.”

“Oh, we can have two parties!” You beam, closing your eyes and picturing it in your head. “Yours would be obviously in the morning, and his would be in the evening- oh, Ru and Lu would be so delighted to have two cakes to eat instead of one,” you share a soft laugh. Which actually reminds you…

“Have you sent anyone to notify them they can come home? I feel so bad that they had to spend your birthday away from you…”

“Don’t worry, dear. The message has been delivered and they should soon be here. And there is always tomorrow to start with the party all over again. I believe it was a smart decision to get kids out of the house. You know how protective twins are around you - they would’ve worried themselves out of their minds.”

You have to admit that Diluc is right - no need for your boys and niece to hear you scream and curse whoever was present for hours, and you can trust the Alberich family to keep them safe and entertained.

“Well then, if everything else is settled, my heart and mind are at peace… But we still have one important thing to do. The name. And before we go down the list, may I suggest something, please?”

“You are the mother, you have the most say in it,” his words make you lift an eyebrow at him, yet he only smiles. Shaking your head you poke your nose into his cheek.

“What a gentleman you are…"

"That's what my dad told my mom," he says as if in his defense. "And I agree with him on that one - after all, it's you who carried him for nine months and kept him healthy."

"Alright, alright, I could speak of all the ways you provided for me so I could do that, but I know you won't accept this kind of praise. Okay, I will have a say in it," Diluc scoffs, but you only give him a teasing wink. "Speaking of your parents, remember how you told me that your mother chose the name ‘Diluc’, because you were born in the early hours of dawn?” He nods, fondness reflecting in his eyes. “She also did it, because your father’s name means ‘twilight’, ‘dusk’ and she wanted them to match, right?” He nods again, but this time it’s confusion and a bit of hurt that are hiding behind his crimson pools of fire. Still holding the baby, you do your best to interlace your fingers with his, still supporting your hand, and the redhead takes notice of it, helping you, until there is a nice hold on each other's digits.

Swallowing thickly you take a deep breath to calm your nerves. Diluc would never be mad at you, but what you are going to suggest next is pretty huge.

"It's not on the list, but I took interest in this one when we were researching. The main meaning of this name is 'Sun'. However, there were languages that gave it a slightly different meaning, let's say, time-specific? And now, since our son was born on the 30th of April and almost at sunset, I thought that this one might be perfect. It's… It's Cyrus. And it can have the meaning of 'dusk', 'twilight', just like your father's name does."

The clock on the wall is ticking and that's the only sound in the room. You can barely hear your hearts beating or air entering and leaving your lungs, but your mind is in a race against itself, and you start second-guessing that maybe giving him a big reminder about that day was a mistake. Diluc’s been healing, you know that, you’ve been here all these years to witness his progress and be proud of him, but it still must hurt. His silence is worrying, but despite your own nervousness you give him time to process, to let the thought sink in and register what exactly you are implying.

You spend a few minutes quietly. Your husband never loosens his hold on your shoulders, and it soothes you when his thumb starts rubbing over your knuckles absent-mindedly. His warm breath caresses your skin, lulling your alerted senses to the point of tranquility, and you sigh audibly, lowering your head on his shoulder. And then you finally hear him speak again.

“Cyrus… It’s a lovely name. I… I really like it. No, I love it.”

“Yeah?” A soft murmur of your question sends a wave of delight to the man’s swelling heart. “You do?”

“I do. I think it’s perfect. But…are you really sure you want to honor my father?”

“He meant a lot to you, ‘luc,” you straighten up and turn to have a better view of the redhead. There are unshed tears clinging to his thick lashes and he doesn’t even blink, looking down at your son. “Listen, my love,” carefully sliding one hand from beneath the baby’s body you bring it to Diluc’s cheek, making him face you, making him gulp and lean into your open palm, “I too think it’s perfect, and maybe, just maybe, the birth of our son today is your dad’s sign to move on. Master Crepus would want that for you, I am sure, and passing on a small fracture of him to this boy would close this chapter forever. What do you think?”

“I think that I love you so-so much…”

His lips are scorching, kissing yours with feverish urgency. Tears roll down his flushed cheeks, but you brush them away the best you can, not minding the salty taste of the kiss. Diluc Ragnvindr has his chest open for you, for your hands to hold his beating heart, for them to take care of it. This pure joy that sets his soul aflame is overpowering, all-consuming, and he is more than ready to let it swallow him whole, if only you keep loving him the way you’ve been all these many years.

When he parts from you, the redhead nearly chokes and starts coughing from all the sobs he held back. Your fingers are deft, threading through his thick locks, gently scratching his scalp, as his forehead is pressed to yours. You remind him to breathe.

“And I love you too, Diluc. I always will.”

”Thank you.”

You smile, peppering his face with kisses, whispering the sweetest words of affection. He wants to tell you something, he even opens his mouth, but a sudden knock on the door interrupts him. Your eyes dart to the heavy wood blocking the entrance to your bedroom.

“Master Diluc?” It’s hushed, but still audible. “We spotted young masters, Sir Kaeya’s family and Miss Adelinde from the window. They will be here soon, should we ask them to wait?”

Your husband clears his throat, coughing in his fist, and then glances at your figure to check if you look good enough to receive so many people at once. You simply mouth an “I am fine”. It seems enough to assure him.

“No, Hillie,” your husband speaks louder. “Y/n is awake, so once everyone arrives, please, bring them here. And make arrangements for dinner.”

“Yes, Master!”

Diluc sighs when the hurried steps can no longer be heard and kisses you once more. The baby in your hold starts stirring and you return your free arm back around him, bringing the boy closer to your chest.

“Will you be fine, if I leave you alone with Cyrus for a moment?” Him already using the name reduces your heart to a puddle and you cannot fight the huge grin.

“We will, my love, don’t worry. Go wash your face, I’ll feed him in the meantime.”

With a nod he bends to kiss his son’s forehead and then peck you on the cheek, climbing out of the bed after that and disappearing in the bathroom.

Fortunately, you had a solid half an hour before your sons and guests returned. In that time you managed to feed Cyrus, lull him back to sleep and pass the boy to a much calmer and collected Diluc, who carefully placed him in a crib.

Upon your suggestion, the man steps out of the bedroom to meet everyone downstairs, and warn the kids about being quiet. Every maid he meets on the way beams at him with a smile, congratulating and asking if their Lady is alright and if she needs anything. Their eagerness to assist his wife with anything she might need and excitement they feel for the fact Ragnvindr family has just grown in number is heart-warming, and Diluc allows himself a small smile, as he answers them the best he can.

When he reaches the hall of the first floor it’s just on time to witness Adelinde closing the massive doors and locking them. Two balls of red immediately sprint to him and he barely has time to crouch and catch his elder sons. They start whining and pouting for missing the whole day with their dad and he kisses their round cheeks, promising to hold a proper celebration later.

“Hmph, you better!” Rufus scoffs, lightly punching his father’s shoulder. “But today is not over yet, right?”

Diluc nods, patting their heads affectionately, ruffling crimson locks. Then twins glance at each other and simultaneously inhale.

“Happy birthday, dad! We love you!”

“I love you too, fireflies,” he hums, straightening up and lifting both of them in his arms. “Thank you for your kind words, I appreciate them.”

“We brought you and mom bouquets! Callie helped too,” Lucas chirps, pointing to two big bunches of flowers in Kaeya’s and his wife’s arms. The redhead lifts his eyebrows, to which his brother only shrugs.

“This is wonderful, kids. I love them, and I know your mom would adore them too.”

“Oh, can we go see her?”

“Why isn’t she with you?”

“Dad said she was preparing a surprise, where is it?”

Bombarded with questions, flying from three directions, Diluc is reminded of why he came down here in the first place.

“Kids,” the seriousness in his voice stops the stream of interrogation. Three sets of eyes are glued to his face. “I am going to tell you something very important and I need you to listen, alright? Now we all are going to go to my and mom’s bedroom. There you’ll have to be quiet, okay? No screaming, no squealing, no arguments, no running around, got it? Your mother is very tired, and someone who’s also waiting for you there may start crying if you disturb him.”

Mrs Alberich gasps, widely smiling, and turns to her husband, whispering in his ear.

”It’s another boy!”

Children on the other hand look utterly confused, but they do know when the look on the Dawn Winery owner’s face shows he is not kidding. This sounds so mysterious, and while puzzled they are dying to know what’s going on. And without acting the way their dad/uncle asks they will not find out what it is.

“Okay, we understand. We will be quiet.”

“Thank you,” he bends down again to put his sons back onto the floor and glances behind at his staff. “Someone, take these flowers and put them in vases in the living room. Kids, go wash your hands.”

"Yes, Master Diluc!"

When the door to the bedroom opens, you wave to everyone with a soft smile, cozying among the many pillows again.

"Mama!" Twins exclaim in whispers, tiptoeing to the bed and climbing up to hug you. "We missed you so much… How are you? Why are you in bed?"

"Tired," you simply explain, smooching their cute little noses and hugging them as tightly as you could. Suddenly, Lucas's eyes fall to your stomach - or rather to where it was just hours ago.

"Mom… where is the baby?" He asks, patting around the blanket, and indeed discovering the belly's absence. Rufus lowers his gaze to confirm his brother's words and then looks at you and after that at Diluc, who's just quietly closed the door shut.

"Dad, what did you do to the baby?"

"Nothing."

"When where-?"

He stops when you tap his shoulder and, once both boys' attention is yours again, point to the crib standing close to the side of the bed. Callie, who's been watching all along, has her interest picked, and steps to the little bed from the other side, as her cousins crawl across the mattress. With six hands grabbing at the wooden edges and six eyes glancing inside, the room falls quiet again for a few moments. Kaeya walks to you and gives you a hug, kissing your forehead and congratulating you with a new addition to the family.

"It's funny isn't it?" He murmurs. "Now you don't need to invite us another time to meet the newborn."

You laugh at that. As he moves away your co-sister-in-law is quick to take his place, embracing you and pecking your cheek, also congratulating you and teasing for once again being a boy’s mom. Diluc meanwhile has taken place by his niece’s side, gently smoothing her hair back, observing the kids’ reaction.

It’s Lucas who opens his mouth first.

“So… this is our sibling?”

“Yes, Lu. This is your little brother.”

“He sure is little,” Rufus drawls, “I’d even say tiny. Were we this tiny too?”

“You were,” Callie butts her way in a conversation. “I was your age when I saw you two for the first time. Though I couldn’t hold both of you in my arms, you were heavy. You are still heavy, hehe.”

“We are not-!”

“Shh,” Diluc presses a finger to his lips, and the kids slam their palms over their mouths. “Remember what I asked you about? No fighting, or he will wake up and start crying.”

“Sorry, dad…”

“Sorry, Uncle Diluc…”

You snort at the little exchange, watching your family fondly, thinking that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey, brother,” Kaeya joins the other man and grabs his shoulder, squeezing in an affectionate gesture, “Congrats. Both with your and your son’s birthday.”

Diluc nods, lifting his own hand, patting the one resting on his shoulder.

“Oh, right!” The older twin’s eyes sparkle at the realization and he stares up at his dad. “Does it mean you share a birthday with him?”

“Yes, I do, Ru. Does it bother you?”

“Are you kidding me? Dad, that’s so cool! Me and Lucas always have each other for our birthday, he would have you for his!”

“Also it means two cakes,” the other six-year old murmurs under his breath, and Diluc nearly chuckles - you do know your boys too well. It also lifts a weight he wasn’t aware of off his chest - it seems like he was a bit worried, if twins would feel jealous of the fact their dad’s and sibling’s birthdays are on the same date. But since they are cool with it - he is more than cool too.

“Speaking of him,” Mrs Alberich manages to take a peek into a crib too, aw-ing at the fact it’s a red-haired baby again, “have you chosen a name already?”

“We did,” scarlet eyes stare right into your soul through yours, and you mirror Diluc’s proud smile. “His name is Cyrus. Cyrus Ragnvindr.”

“Cyrus, hmm…” Kaeya purses his lips in thought, as if examining the name in and out, like some kind of a linguist. “Diluc, Rufus, Lucas and Cyrus… Yeah, fits right in.”

“Not as well as Cherry №3 I bet,” Callie smirks at the twins, to which, keeping in mind the promise they gave their dad, they only stick their tongues at her.

“I told you the name was perfect,” your husband reminds you with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, wait!” The eye-patch wearer snaps his fingers without actually making a snapping sound. “DiLUc and LUcas, RUfus and CyRUs… You now have two Lu’s and two Ru’s!”

“Oh Archons, I didn’t realize that,” with wide eyes you stare back at him. “That’s so cute!”

“Can we call him Cy?” Lucas pulls away from the little bed, and sits back on the mattress properly.

“I think it is indeed a short form for his name,” you nod, feeling so relieved about how smoothly everything has been going. Yeah, surely the birthday party didn’t go as planned, but on the other hand you finally have your boy, and your other boys look pretty happy after meeting their younger brother. So it’s all wonderful.

Or maybe you are too fast to judge.

“Uncle Diluc, Aunt Y/n,” you are surprised, when your niece calls you both, and glance at the oldest kid in the room inquiringly. To your surprise her face is expressionless, or at least she is trying to keep it this way, because your husband can clearly see barely-hidden mischief lighting up her eyes. She waits when her silence draws attention of the rest of the people to her persona and then, with the same straight face, says something that immediately sends her father choking on a silent laughter.

“Next time I want a girl cousin.”

Dumbfounded, Diluc, you and her mother stare at the girl with jaws going slack, while Kaeya is nearly dying from suppressing his violent coughing, bent in half and shaking. Not letting it crack her act, she holds her head high and heads right towards the door, feigning nonchalance with her graceful posture and slow steps.

“I will go and ask about the dinner. That's all.”

And just like that she leaves you all once again under the pretense of checking on with the kitchen staff. Mrs Alberich is the first one to snap out of the collective stupor and, shaking her head, grabs Kaeya’s elbow to drag him out of the room. Diluc is next, inhaling deeply, wondering why he is even surprised by her antics. He notices how the twins kind of lost interest in watching a baby that is doing literally nothing, so he ushers the boys to a very important mission - to make sure that their dad’s favorite meal is cooked, which they take with all seriousness.

And once more it’s only him, you, and little Cyrus, sleeping peacefully in his bed. You watch thick scarred fingers unbutton the vest and peel it off, hanging it on the back of the chair. Same fingers brush his bangs away and he sighs again, making eye contact with you. He smiles and you smile too.

“As much as I love this girl, I’ll have to disappoint her.”

“I agree, love,” the man is at your side again, an arm snaking around your shoulders and pressing you into him. “I admit, I would’ve loved to have a sweet girl looking just like you, but judging by the looks of our sons... Who knows how many attempts it’ll take, and I am not risking your health anymore.”

“You are so sweet,” you swoon, lacing your fingers together and squeezing his hand. “I love you for that. Are you sure that this is enough?”

“It always was enough. From the moment it was just you and me it was already enough. You simply tripled this happiness.”

“We tripled this happiness.”

“We will.”

“Yes, we did. And we will keep it that way.”

You lean close to kiss him, but, before he can reciprocate, start kissing all over his face, wherever your current position allows you to reach. Your partner keens on your affectionate attack, lowering his head on purpose, so you have more skin to cover with your lips, and since it brings you so much satisfaction, you do not stop until a thought, that you are forgetting something, is at the front of your mind.

“I just realized that I am the only one who has not wished you a happy birthday today. So… Happy birthday, Diluc. I love you very-very much. Sorry I am not very creative this year.”

“I think the little boy sleeping over there would beg to differ,” your husband nods at the crib, making you pout, but is quick to kiss it away. “I love you too, Y/n. Thank you for everything. This birthday was as perfect as any other you spent with me.”

“And I will make sure to make it perfect every single year ahead of us, my glorious Dawn. Should we wish a happy birthday to our little Dusk as well? I think I heard Kaeya briefly congratulate him, I want to do it too!”

You are so adorable when excitement is written all over you, and it's hard not to give in to your sparkling eyes, especially when he wants the same thing you do.

“We absolutely should. Let’s do it together, alright?”

The sky is painted black outside, and the second floor of the Winery is quiet, when in the comfort of one of its rooms three sweet words are spoken in two voices with such love and devotion, only parents can have for their child.

“Happy birthday, Cyrus.”

And maybe the winds would pick these words and carry them through the time to the one, and, stroking his short red beard, he would smile and say that the Dawn and the Dusk were always meant to be together.

Diluc and Cyrus

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #dadluc #genshin oc #kaeya alberich #genshin impact fluff #pearly family au

629 notes · View notes

faeirtopia · 4 months

Text

ʚɞ ; first time parents!

pairing! husband!shohei x fem!reader.

warnings! none at all. this is emotional.

once you two made it back home after spending too much time at the hospital, shohei broke down in tears. it was definitely a sight to see.. especially not seeing him so emotional like this but maybe a handful of times and that was because of baseball.

he took the small child in his arms and hesitantly kissed their much smaller head, he was scared that he’d hurt the poor child with his larger sized hands.

“I can’t believe we are parents now, this is our child that we created and you did so well. I’m so proud.”

shohei would be much more nervous than you. that’s because you had been ready for this and with shohei being a male.. it doesn’t come as naturally.

that doesn’t mean he won’t work his ass off to do well and be the best father because he sure will.

makes sure to get up in the middle of the night to feed the baby so you’re able to get more sleep, knowing how exhausted you still were from the pregnancy itself and the birth of your child. he’d do all that he could to help and keep you comfortable.

since this was your first child, you couldn’t help but to feel nervous as well. what if you weren’t a good mother? what if you couldn’t handle the stress of everything? you had your own doubts as well and shohei knew that because he knew you too well. so he’d care for you as much as the baby.

“you’re so beautiful and so is the baby, how did I get so lucky? you’re also such a great mother.”

at times shohei would mess up; heat the milk up a bit too warm, put the diaper on in the completely wrong way, not wrap the baby up correctly to keep them warm, so on and so on. he’d do his very best.

although you also messed up on certain things, you both voiced your concerns about being parents to each other and searched for tips and helped each other in the best way possible as a couple.

that only made your relationship with him much stronger and as each day went on you both noticed how different things were becoming but in the best way possible. he was so much more relaxed while taking care of the small baby that kept growing.

you felt more confident as a mother and continued doing better and better only making shohei feel so proud of you. he found you even more attractive.

“I’m home baby, I missed you so much. while I was at practice I couldn’t stop thinking about you and the little one. how are they doing? did they miss their daddy? I hope so because I missed them.”

“also.. was thinking that maybe we should make another? I know it’s still too early which is fine but maybe we can try for another in a few months?”

shohei would take as many photos and videos as he could of you and the smaller one. mostly to send to his family and a few friends that he’s okay with.

as a first time father he wants to make sure he captures absolutely everything that happens between you and him or the baby and him and the baby and you! (that’s a lot of ands I know sorry)

secretly, shohei would call his mom and ask for questions. he’d want to know what to do at certain times and how to handle the child when the child is sick, upset, mad, grumpy, anything like that!

and secretly.. you’d do the same. any advice for a first time mother helps and you’d want to show shohei that you could definitely do this again.

“we are doing so well baby, I’m proud of the both of us and you especially. I love you and the baby.”

knowing how scary this has been for you, he’d plan nights for you to be alone and relax or he’d plan nights for just you two to be together and share that alone time you both needed very badly.

being a first time parent with shohei will be unforgettable in the best way possible I will say.

97 notes · View notes

1800-fight-me · 1 year

Text

Broken Vows Part Two

Part One Part Three Epilogue

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Explicit sex, infidelity, angst (also some fluff!), canon level sexism, the reader is a lady of a great house but the house is unspecified and the reader has no description. (As a forewarning, though this story has dark themes and tons of angst it absolutely will have a happy ending!)

Word count: A little over 6k

Synopsis: How long will you be able to hide your son’s true parentage and control your desires for Aemond?

Author’s note: Part two is finally here!! There will be a part three!! Thank you so so much to my lovely beta readers @just-here-for-the-moment and @lady-phasma y’all are the best!! P.S. Here’s a link to my masterlist if you’d like to check out my other writing! Come interact with me! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Aemond Masterlist Part Three Sneak Peek

“You asked for me, mother?” Aemond said as he strode into Alicent’s quarters.

“Yes, sit with me,” she said as she reached her hand out to him and smiled gently.

He placed his hand in hers and squeezed it softly as he sat on the couch next to her.

“I have news and wanted to share it with you before you heard it from any others,” she said.

He nodded and waited for her to continue.

“Lady Stark has given birth to a child. A son,” she said carefully as she attempted to gauge her son’s reaction.

Aemond pursed his lips and swallowed as he processed the information.

He nodded once again.

“We should offer the Starks our congratulations on their happy news,” he said, his voice rough with concealed emotion.

“I have already sent a letter. It was only about eight or nine months ago she was here in person,” she said.

“Hm.”

“Aemond,” she sighed.

He stared at her as his mind churned like the sea with this new information.

“I know you have always loved her,” Alicent said gently.

“Hm,” Aemond clenched his jaw and turned his face to avoid her gaze.

“Tell me my fears are not true,” she begged.

“What fears do you speak of, mother?” he asked, his voice hard, though he of course knew what she meant.

“I do not wish to say it for fear it is true,” she said as she looked at her brokenhearted son.

“Then there is nothing to say. I shall take my leave, I have responsibilities that need to be attended to,” he said as he stood swiftly.

“Aemond,” she protested as she grabbed his arm.

He swallowed and pursed his lips before he turned back to face her.

At the barely concealed anguish on his face she sighed and let him go.

Aemond marched straight to the training courtyard for his thoughts were swirling and spiraling and he was unable to make sense of his emotions.

Sir Criston was there and after a few curt words they began to spar.

Aemond’s chest heaved as he blocked and parried Sir Criston’s blows. He couldn’t decide if he was trying to avoid his feelings or straighten his thoughts enough to sort through them.

Hours passed and his sparring partner changed multiple times but still Aemond did not stop.

Sweat dripped down his face as he fought and fought and fought.

He raged against the need inside him to call upon Vaghar and fly north immediately.

The last man in the courtyard bowed out and called the fighting to an end.

Aemond stood alone with only the moon as a light.

He threw down his weapons and stomped his way to the dragon pit.

He resisted the urge to punch the stone wall for it would surely only break his hand and not offer the relief he was looking for if hours of training were any indication.

Soon he and Vaghar soared through the skies.

An experience that usually brought him peace and comfort, but now did little in the face of the torment his soul currently faced.

Good gods, what had he fucking done.

There was, of course, a chance the child was not his.

What was he doing, was he going to fly to Winterfell and start a war by taking away Lord Stark’s wife?

You should be his. He despised the circumstances life had put you and him in.

He should be there to hold you and his child and kiss you both.

If the child was not his, he felt nearly just as broken hearted at the thought. You should be his wife and bear his children and be filled with his love and care.

Vaghar reached the border to the North and cold pelting rain began to pour.

With gasping breaths Aemond commanded her to land.

He climbed off and slid to his knees on the muddy ground.

The rain streaked down his face along with tears.

He could not go to Winterfell and take you away. He could not start a war over a child he was not sure was his and any attempts to see you and the babe would endanger you more than he already had with his reckless love led actions.

As he screamed in anguish, Vaghar roared in empathy for her broken rider.

_______________________

One month later

“My lady, here are some letters for you,” your lady’s maid Brienne said after you laid your sleeping son down in his crib.

“Oh, thank you, you can put them on the desk there. I’ll look through them later,” you said.

“I think you want to look at this now and not leave it lying around,” she said, her voice strongly toned.

You looked up at her in surprise as she placed the letters on your desk but handed one of them to you.

You gasped softly as you recognized the handwriting and seal upon it.

“I see,” you murmured.

She stared at you, and with a loving but reprimanding tone she told you she was taking her leave to give you privacy.

The letter was addressed to you, though it was written with your maiden name rather than addressed to Lady Stark.

You took a deep breath.

You opened it with shaking hands and saw the one worded message.

“Congratulations,” it stated in a careful cursive scrawl you were all too familiar with from years of passing childhood notes.

It was signed, “Aemond Targaryen”.

Your heart pounded as your fingers grazed the letters your lover had written. He had made a carefully calculated decision when he wrote and sent you this letter.

He had not put anything incriminating in it, though it was certainly suspicious on its own for you to receive a personal letter from the prince.

But you knew what this letter meant. It meant that he knew. He knew you had a child and at the very least he suspected it was his. He was also, in the most formal way he could, offering you his love and affection for your efforts to bear a child. You wished you could tell him that your son was his.

You could not send him any sort of confirmation or acknowledgement back, it was too dangerous.

You wiped the tears from your eyes as your heart burned from his loving gesture.

You hid the letter in a drawer and pulled it out and traced the words again and again when you missed him.

_______________________

Two years later

“No,” you said stubbornly.

“Do my ears deceive me? Surely you did not refuse your Lord Husband,” Cregon seethed at you through clenched teeth.

“I said, no,” you said as you glared at him.

“It is a royal decree! We must go! You cannot refuse the King! We have already turned down two royal invitations from both the Queen Regent and the Queen Mother since our son was born, all due to your excuses” he yelled as he threw his hands up in the air in frustration.

“Fine, then you go without me,” you said and he sighed deeply.

“Woman, your stubbornness knows no bounds. If you wish to remain in Winterfell then I suppose Eddard and I can-”

“No. You will not take my son away from me. He is only two years old. He needs his mother. You can go yourself,” you said angrily.

“The King requested our entire family! Not just me! What is this sudden change in attitude you appear to have? I thought you had fond memories of your childhood in the Red Keep, do you not wish to visit again? Your father will be there. He is ill and it is unlikely you will have many more chances to see him before his life ends.”

“My father is the last person I want to see. You would know that if you knew anything at all about me,” you practically spat at him.

He rolled his eyes.

“I am the Lord of this house and you will obey my words. We will all depart for King’s Landing in a week’s time. That is final,” he said as he left your chambers and slammed the door behind him.

You collapsed into the closest chair and buried your face in your hands as you attempted to take deep calming breaths.

You feared that the dangerous game you’d been playing of hiding your child’s parentage could soon be over once he was seen in the same room as his true father.

Though the child was a near copy of you, his silver hair and the shape of his lips clearly marked him as Aemond’s child.

As you lived in the cold north you frequently kept a hat on his head so rumors would not spread but that would prove impossible in the warm climate of King’s Landing.

Rumors that you were an overprotective mother and that he was a sickly child due to you always keeping him bundled up and close to you ran rampant, but according to Brienne, there were no speculations on his parentage. Truly, she was one of the few people who had ever seen the color of his hair including your husband and the maesters.

You decided to cut his hair shorter prior to the trip, it would not hide the color but perhaps it would draw the eye less.

Gods help you.

Weeks later, your nerves frayed as the carriage you and your son were in grew closer and closer to the Red Keep.

“Listen to me, my little dragon heart,” you whispered at your son as he sat in your lap, grateful that your husband had decided to ride in the front of the group rather than in your carriage for the last leg of the trip.

He looked up at you, his face solemn and so like the expressions you used to frequently see on Aemond.

“You are to stay close to me, okay? This is a new place and I want you by my side always,” you urged and he nodded.

He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled close into your chest.

“Hold hands?” he asked

You grinned at his adorable question and nodded.

“Yes, when we leave the carriage we shall hold hands,” you said and placed a kiss to the top of his head.

You pulled a light hat onto his head and hoped he would keep it on until you got to your rooms.

Finally the carriage stopped and with your son on your hip you took your husband’s hand and stepped out into the courtyard of the Red Keep.

You looked up to see the Queen Mother and the Queen Consort there to greet you.

You took a deep breath and gulped.

As you walked forward, your son wiggled out of your arms. You placed him on the ground and held his hand to allow him to toddle next to you as you strode towards the queens.

Heleana clearly still cared little for decorum as she immediately embraced you.

“Hello dear friend,” you said to her as you hugged her back.

“It has once again been far too long,” she said and you agreed with her.

“Hello Lord and Lady Stark, you are most welcome here,” Alicent said as you and Helaena ended your embrace.

You smiled and curtseyed and she smiled back.

“Thank you, my queens, we are happy for our long travels to be over,” Cregon said politely.

“The King regrets that he could not be here to receive you, he had urgent matters to attend to, but will surely see you at the feast this evening,” Alicent said and your husband nodded.

Alicent then embraced you while Helaena knelt down and greeted your son.

“It is good to see you,” she whispered to you.

“You as well,” you said.

She pulled back and with a look at your son asked you, “May I?”

You nodded nervously as she picked up your son and looked at him.

“Hello, handsome,” she said to him with a gentle smile.

“Hi!” he said with a grin.

“It is far too warm for this hat,” she said in concern with a glance at you and then pulled it off his head.

You held in your protests and when she saw his hair, she did not look at you in shock.

She ran a hand over his full head of snow white hair as she smiled and made cooing noises at him.

“He is a beautiful boy,” she said as she handed him to you, and her gaze lingered on you, far too knowing.

“Thank you, your grace,” you said, your heart still in your throat.

You were led into your rooms, again the same room you grew up in, with your husband’s room next door.

You were quickly settled, though your nerves seemed to be unable to settle as easily.

Thankfully your father sent you a messenger to tell you he was feeling too ill to attend tonight’s feast. At least you could delay that confrontation for another day. Though your father was a stubborn and unkind man, he was not an idiot and would immediately know your child was sired by Aemond rather than your husband once he saw him.

That night at the feast you were quiet and reserved as you attempted to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. A feat that was markedly more difficult due to Aemond’s stares.

It was clear he wanted to speak with you, though he would not do so in front of others.

Your son was not allowed at the feast, thankfully this was an event without children, but rather than allowing the castle servants to care for him, he was safely tucked away in your chambers with Brienne. The fewer people in the Red Keep that saw him, the better.

Your desire for Aemond was kept better in control due to your need for survival and the importance of the safety of your child.

Both your lives could be forfeit should your husband discover your betrayal and treachery.

So, you avoided Aemond’s gaze and other than a cursory nod during the initial greetings, you refused to acknowledge him.

His fire still burned within you, however. If only you could fall into his arms, introduce him to his child that you love so dearly, be his and his alone.

But you could not dwell on what could have, or perhaps even should have, been.

Toasts made their rounds and Cregon and several other noblemen paid their tributes to the King.

Your hopes that this dull affair would end quickly were dashed when Aemond stood and raised his cup as he stared at your husband.

Then he looked at you. You stopped breathing.

He said your name, not your title, your first name, and it sounded all too familiar as it fell from his lips.

“To you and Lord Stark,” he purred, you knew he would never refer to you as Lady Stark for in his mind you were and always would be his.

“And the son you have brought into this world, the little Lord Stark, I hear he is exceptionally handsome. Congratulations,” he said, voice like silk but dripping with cockiness.

Everyone toasted with him and you took a large gulp of your wine.

You schooled your expression and did everything in your power not to glare at the prince.

You nodded back at him.

“Thank you, my prince! What kind words!” Cregon said as he patted your shoulder and grinned, oblivious and stupid as ever.

Of course he did not pick up on Aemond’s veiled intentions, either to jab at your husband or to get a rise out of you to test his already rapidly forming assumptions.

You forced a smile at him and Aemond, who smirked before he sat back down in his seat.

After the feast, you returned to your quarters to find little Ned already fast asleep in his adjoining room. You dismissed Brienne gratefully for the night after she helped you undress and put on your nightgown.

You were thankful that your husband had a separate room next door and that he did not attempt to bother you that night.

You fell asleep, thoughts full of Aemond and the heated looks he sent you.

You felt the bed behind you shift as someone laid down behind you.

A large hand was placed on your waist and you groaned in annoyance.

“Not tonight, Cregon,” you practically hissed in anger that you were now awake.

“I find myself offended that you would mistake me for that piece of shit,” you heard Aemond’s voice say behind you and you gasped.

You rolled over quickly and saw his face in the flickering firelight.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper- yelled.

You didn’t need to ask him how he snuck into your rooms for he had done so nearly nightly through the hidden tunnels in your shared youth.

“I thought you would be happy to see me,” he said as he smirked at you and gripped your waist a little tighter.

“After the shit you pulled at dinner?” you snapped at him and he chuckled darkly.

“Tell me the truth of it. My mother is correct, yes? The child is mine. I would like to see him.”

He pulled your body close to him so your chest was flush against his.

“Aemond,” you whimpered as you shook your head.

“You look beautiful tonight, dear heart,” he murmured as he ran his nose against your cheek.

“You endanger me and my son,” you whispered as your body began to shake with need for him.

The heat of his body against yours, his familiar scent, the comfort of his large calloused hand on your waist, all combined made your head swirl as if you were drunk on him.

“Our son,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to yours.

You could not hold yourself back from kissing him with passion and desperation.

“Hm,” he hummed, clearly pleased, as he pulled himself back from you.

“Tell me, my love. I want to hear it from your perfect lips,” he whispered as gently ran his fingers up your arm and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth.

“Yes, Aemond,” you gasped out as he pressed a kiss to your jaw. He gently pushed you back so you laid on your back and covered your body with his.

“He is your son, the child was born of our love,” you whispered the forbidden truth and he groaned in response as his lips trailed down your neck.

He pulled back and pressed a kiss to your wanting lips.

“I will protect you both,” he vowed and you nodded with tears in your eyes.

His hands roamed your body possessively as his lips trailed down, lower.

“I am still cross with you,” you said with a gasp, though it was difficult to sound serious as your body was filled with the pleasure only he can provide you.

“Be cross with me. Tell me of it. Yell at me. Break my heart. Just be with me, allow me to be in your presence, allow me to love you. I thought I could survive this life without you, but I find it unbearable. Be mine, and mine alone,” he said passionately between kisses to your chest and stomach as he rucked up your nightgown, his voice low and fervent.

Your eyes filled with tears.

“Yes,” you gasped out.

His mouth reached near your core and you tangled your fingers in his hair and forced him to look at you, to meet your gaze.

“My heart has always, always, belonged to you and you alone. But tell me, my love. How do we survive this? How do we-”

“Leave it to me,” he said darkly and he spread your legs before he licked you exactly where you so desperately wanted him.

“Aemond,” you whimpered and you slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans of pleasure as he gave you what you’d been dreaming of for years.

“Good gods, I have craved your taste,” he groaned deeply into your dripping heat.

You whimpered.

His tongue circled your clit and your breath sped up as you neared your peak far quicker than you ever had before. Your body was desperate for him and just his presence was enough to make you come.

“I’m going to-”

He pulled back and you gasped in shock and anger that he would stop when you were so close.

You sat up to better meet his gaze and he smirked.

“Tell me you are mine,” he commanded.

You took a shuddering breath.

“I’m yours, yours, only yours, my love,” you whimpered.

He growled low in his throat in satisfaction before he buried himself between your legs again.

You fell back onto your back again and bit down on your hand to muffle your sounds as you came harder than you had in years.

You panted as you attempted to catch your breath, but he didn’t give you any time as he crawled his way up your body and kissed you deeply.

You wrapped your legs around his trim waist and he buried his hardened length deep inside you.

He moaned into your mouth as his tongue danced with yours.

“You feel so good, so fucking perfect,” you groaned.

“As do you, my love,” he murmured with a kiss to your jaw.

He began slow thrusts that made you feel so perfectly full you couldn’t stop yourself from whining his name.

Your hands roamed his body, you relished in the feeling of his skin against yours and his tight muscles as he moved within you.

“You are mine,” you whispered to him and he sped his thrusts as he groaned deeply.

He hit the spot inside you that made your brain go fuzzy and you moaned loudly.

He covered your mouth with his large hand and began to pound into you.

You continued to whine, but your sounds were now muffled.

No other words were needed as you stared deeply into his eye and his sapphire eye glimmered in the low firelight.

You watched pleasure overtake his expression as he grew closer to his release.

He pulled out of you and stroked himself, only a couple times, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, before he came and his seed spread across your stomach and chest.

You reached for his arm and grabbed it before you yanked him down on top of you again and kissed him soundly.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

“You are the love of my life,” he murmured and kissed you again.

———

“I wish to see him,” Aemond whispered in your ear as his fingers traced gentle patterns across your bare stomach.

You ran your fingers through his hair as it draped across his shoulder and spilled onto your chest and said, “I know, but it is late. And he is asleep.”

“I will be quiet,” he said and you nodded, unable to keep him from his child, your own selfish heart also desired to see him meet his son for the first time.

“Get dressed, then,” you said as you reached for your nightgown and placed it back on your body.

He was quickly dressed and you took his hand and led him to the door that joined your room with little Ned’s.

“Do not wake him, he is starting to speak and if he babbles something to Cregon about a white haired man in his room at night there will be hell to pay,” you whispered and Aemond smirked and nodded.

You cracked open the door and as you saw him still sleeping you led your love into the room.

You smiled as you looked upon your child sleeping so peacefully.

You then looked up at Aemond and saw that he had unshed tears in his eye.

“He is perfect. He looks so much like you, my love,” Aemond whispered as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You bit your lip as joyous tears made their way down your cheeks.

“He looks like you as well, sometimes he looks at me and I swear he wears the exact same expressions as you,” you whispered with a smile in your voice.

Aemond chuckled softly in joyous wonder.

You tugged on his hand and led him back into your room and shut the door quietly behind you.

Aemond was staring at you in awe.

“When no one is around I call him my little dragon heart,” you said to him with a small, almost bashful, smile.

He stepped closer to you and kissed you with a ferocity that took your breath away.

“I love you,” he groaned into your mouth as he led you back to your bed.

His hands shed you of your clothing at breakneck speeds and you could hardly breathe as he gripped your waist and pushed you back onto the bed.

“Aemond,” you gasped.

“I love you,” he said again, his tone strong as he laid himself atop you and kissed you desperately.

His tongue tangled with yours and you moaned as his fire once again filled you.

“Aemond, I love you as well, but slow down-”, you whispered as he pulled back with a wild look in his eye.

“I wish, no I need to fill you again. I need to fill you with my child again,” he panted and you could not deny the rush of arousal that flooded you at his words.

“My love, we cannot. We must continue to take precautions. One white haired Stark child is dangerous enough, but two?”

He took a deep breath and nodded. You placed your hand on his cheek and he turned his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“Soon, I swear to you, I will remedy this and you and our child will be mine and mine alone. And I will fill you with my children until I can see you round with my child myself,” he promised and you whimpered in desire.

“That is my true desire,” you said and he kissed you, softly this time.

“You are perfect and so is our beautiful son you have brought into this world.” he said and you smiled.

“My prince, how you flatter me,” you teased.

“Hm,” was his only response before he kissed you again until you couldn’t think of any more teasing retorts.

_____________

“Do you wish things could be different?” Helaena asked you the next morning as you sat in the private sanctuary of the Godswood with her, her children, and your child.

You basked in the warm sunlight, something you got so little of in the north.

“What does wishing do but cause pain?” you asked her and she nodded.

Her children giggled as they ran around little Ned and he toddled after them.

“Are there things you wish were different?” you asked her curiously.

“I wish you were here more often, none of the other ladies of court are as kind as you,” she confessed and you reached over and squeezed her hand.

“Truthfully, I wish for that as well.”

“The children seem to be getting along well,” she observed and you laughed.

“Yes, Ned doesn’t often get to play with other children so he’s thrilled.”

“He’s so cute!” Jaehaera squealed as Ned giggled and chased after her.

“Mother, is he our cousin?” Jaehaerys asked Helaena.

You pursed your lips, you were worried something like this might happen.

“No, he is a Stark,” his mother replied and he just stared at her confused.

“But he looks like us? I thought only Targaryens had white hair,” he said with a bluntness that only children can achieve.

You coughed awkwardly.

“Uncle Aemond!” Jaehaera yelled in excitement as Aemond walked towards the group of you.

The twins squealed and ran to him and little Ned trailed after them once again, but fell down and sat there while he watched them.

“Hello, little ones, are you enjoying your day?” he asked them as both twins clung to each of his legs.

They babbled over one another, each talking rapidly, and he grinned.

“Uncle, uncle, look! Look at our new friend, little Ned! Isn’t he the cutest?”

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys ran back to Ned and grabbed each of his hands and led him to Aemond.

Aemond knelt down on the ground and smiled softly.

“Hello,” he said gently.

Ned looked back at you and you nodded at him encouragingly.

“Say Hi, Ned,” you urged and he grinned.

“Hi!” he exclaimed and then promptly reached out and yanked Aemond’s long hair.

You placed a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh.

Aemond chuckled as he reached out and detangled his hair from Ned’s chubby little fingers.

“You are trouble, handsome boy,” Aemond teased and Ned and the other children giggled.

Ned then ran over to you and threw himself on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair and hugged him.

“Did you say hello to Prince Aemond, my little dragon heart?” you asked him and he nodded at you with a grin.

You did not miss the way Helaena looked at you in surprise at your words, but chose to ignore her for you knew she would never betray you and Aemond.

The twins continued to bounce around Aemond as he strode over to where you and Helaena were sitting.

“Aem-” Ned tried to say but looked at you in confusion as he forgot the second half of the word.

“Aemond,” you said to him, slowly so he could imitate you and pronounce it.

“Yes, my lady?” Aemond asked you cheekily and you smirked at him.

“Aemond,” Ned said slowly and actually pronounced the word correctly.

“Good job, my love,” you said and you kissed him on the cheek.

“It is my name, do I not get a kiss as well?” Aemond asked and you shot him a reprimanding look that caused him to smirk.

Your son slid from your lap and walked over to Aemond where he sat next to Helaena and climbed onto his lap with unexpected boldness.

Aemond smiled and pushed his hair behind his shoulders where it would be safe from little hands before he held onto his son.

You pressed your lips together and attempted to control your emotions as you watched your son sit on his father’s lap for the first time.

“Aemond,” Ned said again as he reached for his father’s face. Aemond allowed the boy to caress his cheek and then did the same back to him.

“Are you alright?” Helaena whispered to you and you realized you were crying.

You sniffled and quickly wiped away the stray tears.

“Yes of course,” you whispered back but as Aemond met your gaze you could tell he was feeling emotional as well.

Soon, your son, being a typical little boy, got bored and wiggled off Aemond’s lap to once again run around with the twins.

Aemond spent the better part of an hour with you, Helaena, and the children, and you felt happier than you had been in years.

Before you left, you looked up at the Red Keep and saw your husband where he stood and watched you from a balcony. Your heart jumped into your throat and you worried about what all he had seen and whether or not he would put the pieces together and become doubtful and suspicious of you.

He turned and left as soon as he saw you spotted him.

________________

Your husband strode into your room that evening.

You looked up at him in surprise.

Honestly, you hadn’t seen much of him the entirety of this trip and you liked it that way. You also hoped against hope that he had only spotted you and Ned in the Godswood after Aemond left.

“Good evening,” you said to him as he sat in the chair opposite you before the hearth.

Ned sat on the floor and played with toys while he babbled.

“I came to inform you that we shall be departing for Winterfell earlier than planned,” he said.

“Why?” you asked carefully.

“First you did not want to come and now you do not wish to leave? Is there no pleasing you, woman?” he asked sharply.

You took a deep steadying breath to quell your temper.

“Aemond,” Ned said with a giggle.

Your heart stopped and you felt as if you could vomit from the tension.

Cregon looked at him in shock and then at you with anger.

“Why is he talking about the prince?” he asked, danger in his voice.

“Oh, we spent time with the queen and her children today and the prince came for a while. He was learning all their names and it seems the prince’s name was easiest for him to remember and pronounce,” you said as casually as you could.

“I see,” he said as if he didn’t believe you at all.

“And did the king happen to come by as well?” he asked.

You snorted, “Of course not.”

“What is it you have against the king?” he asked in an accusing tone.

You sighed. “I told you he is dangerous and you need to be careful around him.”

“And what of the one eyed prince? Many say he is cruel and dangerous as well, yet you appear to be fine with him being near our son,” he said angrily.

“I-I had no choice. What am I to say to a prince of the realm?”

He huffed and glared at you, but you knew it meant he had no retort back and you had won the argument.

His suspicion, however, worried and stressed you.

You had told him, years ago, that you and Aemond were close as children like everyone said, but had a falling out when you were older so he would not question the tension between the two of you and instead write it off as being due to residual anger and hurt feelings.

It seemed that lie was no longer enough to dissuade his concerns. Your marriage was a teetering tower of lies that only a gust of wind could topple.

“The festivities come to a close tomorrow, we leave the day after,” he said firmly with a glare that prevented you from protesting, then he stormed out.

That night when Aemond arrived in your chambers, you walked swiftly to him and clung to him.

“He says we will be leaving for Winterfell the day after tomorrow, Aemond,” you said, near panic as you looked up at his face.

He pressed his lips together in frustration.

“Do not let him take me away again. I-I can’t survive it. I want to be with you. I want to be home. Aemond, I can’t, please-” you gasped out as hot tears fell from your eyes and streaked down your face.

“Shhhh,” he held you tighter and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I promised you I would protect you and our son, did I not?” he said calmly.

You nodded, your face still pressed into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat calmed your frayed nerves.

“This is a mere stumbling block to my plans, but one I shall resolve. You will not be forced to leave my side again, dear heart. I promise you that,” his voice was deep and reassuring as he rubbed your back.

“He is suspicious,” you warned.

“Do not fret. I shall handle it,” he said.

You nodded and sniffled as you attempted to stop the tears.

“I am scared,” you admitted in a small voice.

“Do you trust me?” he asked as he placed a hand on your cheek and jaw and tilted your head up so you could meet his gaze.

“Of course,” you breathed out. “With my life.”

“Then trust in my promise,” he said gently.

You nodded and he kissed you, soft and slow and reassuring.

He deepened the kiss and as you tasted a mix of him and the saltiness of your tears, your worries began to melt away.

To be continued….

Part Three Epilogue

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen angst #broken vows #aemond targaryen fanfic

610 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 1 year

Text

A Winter Beauty (21)

[Aemond Targaryen x fem!Stark reader]

[warnings: sex content, smut, violence, fluff]

[description: Aemond and his family arrive at Winterfell for Rickon Stark's Name Day. There, Aemond meets his daughter, who arouses his desire. I changed some names and facts for the sake of the plot. Viserys is also slightly younger in this version.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next parts: Masterlist

_____

Several months have passed since Vaegon was born. Viserys's condition began to deteriorate significantly. It was so bad that he was given poppy milk. Viserys asked Alicent to organize a feast and gather his entire family. He felt that his time was coming and he wanted everyone to be with him.

The specter of his future death cast a shadow over the Red Keep. Lady Stark knew that Otto Hightower, her husband's grandfather, saw his grandson Aegon on the throne, not princess Rhaenyra. He was poisoning the thoughts of the queen all the time, who, although she stood up to him, was afraid when he told her, that her childhood friend would kill her and her children as soon as she took the Iron Throne.

Aemond shared with her what his grandfather had said. Lady Stark looked at him, frowning, as Vaegon sat on her lap, playing with the wooden horse she had just handed him, drooling all over it and trying to get it into his mouth.

"Your grandfather strikes me as more capable of such a thing than your stepsister." She said coldly, bending down to her son so he wouldn't choke on the toy. "Hey, don't eat that!"

Aemond gave her a pointed look, her words annoyed him, but the sight of her with their son on her lap always warmed him. Their child was loud and curious, everything amused and interested him. When he sat on his lap, he notoriously tried to take off his eyepatch or pull his hair. He squealed loudly when he wouldn't let him.

They were both happy to say that he was a trouble-free, happy child. He was now sleeping soundly almost all nights, growing fast and changing from day to day. From his dragon egg hatched a beautiful blue dragon. He was still small, as was himself, but Aemond was proud to think that his firstborn son had, what the gods hadn't given him.

He looked at his wife thoughtfully.

"You're too gullible. Just because she helped you give birth, doesn't mean she won't kill you and our baby if she considers you a threat." He said, looking away impatiently. Lady Stark shook her head, taking the toy from Vaegon, which he seemed to want to give her at that moment.

"And who would you see on the throne. Aegon, holding a goblet of wine in one hand and a whore's ass in the other?" She asked directly, and Aemond laughed loudly at her words. His wife had already become completely open with him and was not afraid to express her opinions. He looked at her intensely.

Lady Stark blinked and twisted in place, unsettled. She frowned, blinking, slowly realizing what he was thinking.

"You think I would be a bad king?" He asked quietly.

Lady Stark swallowed loudly, looking at him horrified.

"I… I think you'd make a great king. I really do. But I love our life. You always pay for a crown. The gods don't give anything for free and they'll take something from you. Again." She said with emphasis. Aemond pursed his lips at her words, and they both looked at each other, tension between them. Finally, he exhaled softly, resigned.

"Such speculations are meaningless. I am not the firstborn son." He said getting up from his chair. Lady Stark blinked, swallowing loudly, afraid she might have inadvertently hurt him. She took Vaegon in her arms and walked over to him, looking at him fondly.

"I know, Aemond." She said softly and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I know you sacrificed more. You studied and trained more. You understand and know more, you are better suited. I know it's not fair. But I can't help but enjoy our life as it is. Is it not enough for you?" She asked, looking at him with pain.

Aemond looked at her thoughtfully, his gaze softening. He moved closer to them, grabbed her cheek and kissed her passionately with a wet, loud sound. He pulled away from her, licking his lips.

"It's you alone that I want more than a crown."

***

Aemond fucked her hard, panting heavily, holding her buttocks tightly in his hands. She was wearing a flowing, sheer dress again, revealing her beautiful shoulders, her nipples showing through, driving him crazy.

As they were going to his mother's chamber to have dinner together, he entered the alley, turned her back to him, and pulled up her dress. He could hear her panting loudly, her juices running slowly down her thighs. Seeing this, he just lowered his pants slightly and entered her without warning.

A few weeks after Vaegon's birth, his wife let him take her again. They did it very gently and slowly, enjoying the closeness again. They made love several times that night, the last time they fucked like animals, panting and moaning heavily.

Aemond was surprised to find that they were even hornier than before their son was born. They already had an heir, they had done their duty as a married couple, so they could caress each other solely for their own satisfaction and fulfillment.

After the birth of their son, his wife's body changed. She still had a beautiful, slender waist and face, but her hips and breasts were bigger, and he couldn't keep his hands off them. When walking with her, he could just slide her dress off her shoulders and cup her breast in his hand, kissing her lips.

He liked that her temper never faded. She loved it when he took her to new places, when they were on the verge of being caught. That's why he often fucked her, like now, in the hallway.

Occasionally the servants caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of their eye, but they quickly looked away and fled, not daring to interrupt them. They reported this to the queen, who rebuked her son, but he pretended that nothing of the sort had happened and that it was mere slander.

"What's the point of you wearing these dresses, if they don't cover anything?" He hissed, fucking her mercilessly, his thighs hitting hers with tremendous force, a wet, perverted slap. They were both panting loudly.

"Maybe you should walk around the keep naked, hm? You like it when other men look at your body?" He asked enraged, sick with jealousy and the fact, that other men could look at her body, which belonged only to him. She moaned loudly, her face pressed helplessly against the wall.

Lady Stark licked her lips, panting heavily, her mouth twitching into a smile. She loved driving him crazy.

"Yes, I like it so much. When I see their eyes on me, I get so wet." She whispered laboriously, sweetly, her hands struggling to balance her body. She felt his hands tighten on her buttocks, his cock pumping harder into her.

"I didn't know my wife was such a slut." He hissed, his hand closing around her throat, lifting her up a bit, so that he leaned in to her ear as he continued to fuck her. He knew she was teasing him, and it infuriated him.

"Maybe I should start taking a closer look at the ladies in the keep, their breasts and hips, too? Would you like that?"

Lady Stark pursed her lips in defeat.

"I'd sooner pluck out your other eye." She mumbled, frowning. She heard his light laugh, both of them gasping loudly, close to fulfillment, slamming their bodies against each other with all their might.

"I think, that for your brazen words, you will kneel before your husband today and give him pleasure, right?" He gasped, his hand sliding down to her clit, massaging it with a slow, intense motion, he heard her loud moan of delight. "I think we agree on that, don't we?"

"Y-yes, I want to feel you in my mouth so badly" She moaned helplessly, and leaned back as a strong, wonderful orgasm surged through her body. Her husband came out of her just in time, coming to the floor, panting loudly.

Aemond quickly pulled his pants up and turned his wife toward him, breathing uneasily, looking at her with amusement.

"If you want to suck my cock, just say so. You don't have to make me mad." He grunted, cupping her chin in his hand, as she adjusted her gown with trembling hands. She snorted, smiling slightly.

"Where's the fun in that?"

***

The time came for a great family feast. Lady Stark could see, that her husband had not been in a good mood since morning. He was tense and ironic. The thought of meeting Luke made him meaner to her and more brutal with his words. She frowned, as she lifted the kicking Vaegon from his cradle, demanding attention.

"What's the matter with you? I don't recognize you. Are you going to act like a child at the table today? I already have one and I don't want to keep the other one behaving properly." She said, taken off balance by his behavior.

He looked at her enraged, his lips pressed into a line. The fact that she called him a child was like a slap in the face to him. She could see that he was boiling, but before he could say anything, she interjected.

"Be careful what you're about to say. Luke will leave eventually, and we'll stay here with anything else nice I hear from you today." She said resentfully, not understanding how such a wise man could be so carried away by his own grief.

She saw his jaw quiver, he lowered his gaze, turning his head away. He swallowed hard, his fists clenched. Lady Stark looked at him expectantly. Finally he looked at her.

"I didn't mean to offend you." He said coldly. His wife exhaled loudly. Better an apology than none at all.

"I didn't mean to offend you either. But I beg you, control yourself. You can't breathe fire on everything as you please." She said, skirting him with their son in her arms, leaving their chamber. Aemond tipped his head back, running a hand over his face.

When he entered the great hall, that now served as the dining room, practically everyone was already there. He saw that his wife, with their son in her arms, was talking to Helaena. Her twins were running under the table, laughing loudly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luke and Jace watching him uncertainly.

He walked over to his wife and held out his hands to her. He knew he was exaggerating, and he took out his frustrations on her all day. He wondered how she could bear it so patiently.

"Give him to me. You carry him all day, your back will hurt." He said gently, looking at her softly. Lady Stark smiled slightly and glanced at Vaegon.

"Will you torment your dad a bit now? Hmm?" She asked, rocking him, and he began to kick happily in her hands, obviously delighted at the prospect. She handed Aemond his son, and he immediately tightened his hands around his black leather jacket, his fingers automatically going to his blindfold.

"No." He said, leaning back, so as not to let him reach there. Vaegon squealed loudly in impatience and looked desperately at his mother. Lady Stark laughed out loud.

"He's so funny!" She said to Helaena, who looked at them amused.

She smiled broadly as she saw Rhaenyra come over to them, looking tenderly at their child, behind her, a few paces away, Daemon stopped. She reached out her fingers to touch his tiny hand, which immediately tightened on her skin.

"Children grow up so fast. I hope he's in good health." She said, glancing at his mother. Lady Stark nodded.

"He's the liveliest baby I know. I don't know what will happen, when he starts walking and talking. I think we'll have to locked him up in a dragon's lair." She said amused, Rhaenyra and Daemon laughed out loud. Daemon wagged his finger at her.

"You have a fiery tongue. You fit in this family." He said with appreciation, his wife nodded.

Aemond was surprised to see how easily his wife was able to create a gentle, cheerful atmosphere with people she didn't know at all. Her directness, humor and warmth quickly won over everyone. He knew his uncle, knew that he could be nasty and picky with people he considered idiots, or people not worth his attention. His wife somehow immediately won his favor.

He thought to himself, that he was lucky, that she fell in love with him. That she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She could have anyone with her beauty and intelligence, but she wanted him, the crippled prince. With her, he never felt inferior, deficient. On the contrary, she brought his self-esteem to a level he had never reached before.

She was the best lover he could wish for, tender, understanding, fiery, thirsty. Best friend and companion, intelligent, prudent, patient, funny, understanding. Even when they argued, he couldn't stay mad at her for long, her charm making his fury evaporate like steam. Very often their quarrels ended in their bed, their bodies sweating, intertwined in a tight embrace of pleasure.

They all turned, when they heard that the king would appear in the hall. He was literally carried on his throne, apparently unable to walk himself. Half of his face was covered by a golden mask.

Aemond felt his heart clench at the sight. He felt his wife move closer to him, pressing her breast against his shoulder, looking at him reassuringly. He gave her a tender look and kissed her forehead.

Finally, everyone sat down at the table. Aemond and his wife, with their son on her lap, sat on one edge of the table, Rhaena and Luke sat on the opposite side of the table. Lady Stark watched uneasily how they cast glances at each other, as they took a sip of wine. Some pleasant toasts were raised.

She and Aemond watched as Aegon got up lazily, and walked over to Baela. He whispered something in her ear, and Jace, sitting next to her, stood up suddenly, slamming his fist on the table.

Lady Stark looked at her husband in horror, as she saw him stand up as well. Jace and Aemond stared at each other, Aegon sat back as if nothing had happened. There was an awkward silence.

Jace swallowed hard, smiled, and raised his goblet.

"I want to make a toast to you, dear uncles. I have wonderful memories of our youth together, and I hope we can be friends and allies now as well. All the best for you." He said, slapping Aegon friendly on the shoulder.

Lady Stark pursed her lips, trying not to smile, amused by the situation. Her eyes met Daemon's and they both covered their faces, trying not to laugh out loud.

"For you too." Aegon grunted.

Jace sat back down at the table. Aemond looked away, impatient. After a while he sat down again next to his wife, all tense. He gave her a questioning look as he saw her expression. She just shook her head, sighing loudly with pity. She thought they behaved worse than her baby on her lap.

Otto accosted his great-grandson by tickling his belly. Vaegon laughed out loud each time his fingers came close to him again. She thought with amusement that her son loved everyone and everything. She reached for a piece of watermelon, that she loved so much, and began to eat it slowly, rocking him on her lap.

Vaegon, seeing a new, interesting item in her hand, reached out to her. Lady Stark, knowing that the watermelon had a soft, almost watery consistency, decided to let him try a piece.

She broke off a small fragment and slipped it on her finger into his mouth, which her son licked greedily, smacking with interest. He started jumping up and down with excitement at this new, apparently delicious for him, taste. He reached out for more. Aemond looked at them uneasily.

"Is it safe?" He asked quietly as she gave him another piece of watermelon in his mouth.

"I've read in books that he needs to be slowly introduced to watery foods. He won't be drinking milk all his life. Right?" She asked, wiping Vaegon's mouth, which was sticky from his new favorite dish.

Aemond grunted, letting go, believing she knew what she was doing. He had to admit, that she was a wonderful mother. She had a lot of patience, love and warmth, but she also did not let their son get on her head. Even when he cried with anger, when she didn't want to give him something, she did not give up to him.

She was the one, who showed him how to properly hold their son, where to pat him after he ate. He loved watching her breastfeed him, there was something intimate and private about it, family and warmth. Here his wife breastfed his son, thus taking care of his successor and heir.

He was ashamed to ask for it, but several times when they had sex he tried her milk, unable to contain his curiosity. She looked at him then, amused and turned on at the same time, letting him do what he wanted.

The music snapped him out of his thoughts. Jace stood up suddenly and walked over to Helaena, asking her to dance. Aemond and Aegon exchanged quick glances. Lady Stark smiled to herself, continuing to bite another piece of watermelon, sharing it with her son.

After a while, hot food began to come in. A large roast of pig was placed in front of them, still steaming. She heard Luke chuckle softly and turned her gaze to him. She saw him looking at her husband. She didn't even blink, before Aemond slammed his fist down on the table, grinning, and raised his goblet.

"The last tribute." He said looking around the room. "To the house of my nephews. Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…"

Lady Stark stared at him in disbelief, feeling what he wanted to do. Cold sweat ran down her back.

"…strong."

"Aemond." The queen reacted immediately, moving uneasily in place.

"Let's us raise our cups, for these three, strong boys."

"I dare you to say that again." Jace hissed, looking at him with hatred.

"Why? It's only a compliment. Don't you consider yourself strong?" He asked, and Jace punched him hard in the face.

Aemond didn't even flinch, shoved him effortlessly with one hand, so that he fell to the ground. He laughed to himself as he turned back to his wife, amusement on his face.

"Have you gone mad?" She hissed furiously, holding their son in her arms, who fidgeted restlessly.

"I just wanted to show how proud I am of my family, wife. It seems my nephews aren't quite proud of theirs." He said, almost laughing, Jace moved at him again, but Daemon stepped between them.

"Wait." He said, pointing his finger at him.

He turned his back on him and sighed heavily, looking at Aemond. Before they could say anything, Lady Stark brushed past them and left the room. Aemond, seeing her rage, pursed his lips and followed her.

"Wait." He said impatiently, walking a few steps behind her. She didn't respond to him. She entered her chamber and he followed her.

"Leave." She said dryly to him. "Tonight you sleep alone. Go lie down with Luke, maybe you can clear up a few more things between yourselves."

His jaw clenched in fury at her words. He moved closer to her and grabbed her cheeks brutally with his hand, making her suck in a quick breath.

Vaegon suddenly began to cry loudly, terrified. Aemond released her at once, realizing only now what he had done. Lady Stark stared at him in disbelief and pain, her lip quivering slightly.

"Forgive me." He said softly.

"Leave." She said softly, rocking Vaegon, trying to calm him down.

"I…"

"Get out! I've had enough! I only asked you for one thing!" She screamed in pain. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn't let herself cry. "You can't even…"

"They gave me a pig."

Lady Stark raised her eyebrows, shaking her head in disbelief.

"What?" She asked, completely helpless.

"When we were kids. They gave me a pig with wings, saying it was my dragon. That's why he laughed." He said low, looking at her with pursed lips, humiliated. "Forgive me for what I just did to you. Let me sleep by your side."

She swallowed hard, and Vaegon finally calmed down. She lowered her gaze and was silent for a moment, what he said made her anger melt away.

"I'm sorry too. You made me so upset." She said softly.

"I know." He whispered.

They both laid Vaegon in the crib, covering him with the duvet. Not even a minute had passed when he hugged her from behind, his mouth finding her bare shoulders and neck, kissing them hungrily.

He pressed harder against her, wanting her to feel how hard he was, how much he needed her. He heard her moan softly. He leaned over her and whispered in her ear:

"Let's go to bed."

_____

I decided to end the story here, not wanting to get involved with the king's death and Luke's death - next chapter will be an epilogue, set several years later when Vaegon is a little older. I think both characters have developed wonderfully through all these chapters, I love them and they live happily ever after in my version. Thank you all for such a wonderful reception of this series! And I invite you to read my other fanfic - Masterlist. 💖

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @avgdusterfan @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @random-ocity @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @snh96 @malfoytargaryen @opheliaas-stuff

Others: @dreamlandcreations @darkenchantress @moira-strangle-me-please @yentroucnagol @cloudroomblog @thehumanistsdiary @a-beaverhausen @avadakadabra93 @sirenangelroyal @aonungs-tsahik @xmaiaaa @writingaboutlove1998 @roxannequeen @alwaysholymilkshake

227 notes · View notes

teaberrii · 6 months

Text

Chapter 7: To New Beginnings

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

“Heeey!” March yells. “What’re you two standing around for?”

Jing Yuan looks over his shoulder and sees Yanqing running up with a skewer in his hand. It’s what he says after that takes Jing Yuan by surprise.

“You can share with Mom.”

After Jing Yuan takes the skewer from him, you walk up, and Yanqing runs off toward the rest of the group. “...Seems like he’s calling you Mom.” Jing Yuan looks at you. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can tell him to stop.”

“Says the man who was teasing me about it earlier,” you deadpan. Then, with a little smile, you say, “It’s… a little strange, I guess. But I don’t mind it.” Jing Yuan passes you the skewer, and you bite the shrimp. “Unless you do, General.”

Quite the opposite. Jing Yuan would love it if Yanqing had someone to call Mom as, apparently, Yanqing hasn’t called his birth mother Mom since that day. Not in front of Jing Yuan, at least.

Despite being on an important work call, Jing Yuan couldn’t stop worrying about Yanqing. His son had returned from his stay with his mother, and Jing Yuan sensed something was wrong. While Yanqing was usually talkative upon his return, he was quiet with an expression that told Jing Yuan something was on his mind.

“...Jing Yuan?”

The investor’s voice snapped him back to the situation, and Jing Yuan put himself off mute, hoping this conversation would end sooner rather than later.

As soon as he got off the call, he saw Yanqing reading on the couch. Jing Yuan sat next to him and looked at the storybook. "What are you reading?"

“...He gave it to me.”

“He?”

Yanqing looked down. “The man that stays with her now.”

Was Yanqing talking about his mother’s boyfriend? Jing Yuan had heard about him from mutual friends. A high-ranking civil servant, apparently, but that was all he knew and all he wanted to know.

Yanqing closed the book and put it aside. “...She changed.”

"...What do you mean? Did something happen?”

“I… can’t describe it,” Yanqing said quietly. “She just… isn’t the same anymore.”

Jing Yuan had always wished that Yanqing could be his… and only his. But he couldn’t make that call, even though this seemed like the perfect opportunity. No matter what happened between him and his ex-wife, she was still Yanqing’s mother who had every right to be part of Yanqing’s life.

“Is that why you’ve been feeling down?” Jing Yuan took his son’s hand. “If something happened, could you tell me about it?”

“Nothing happened,” Yanqing said. “...But, I don’t like him. She keeps telling me to give him a chance, but I don’t want to anymore.” Jing Yuan picked up the book and saw that the genre was far from what Yanqing enjoyed. “You can throw that away.” Yanqing scooted closer, and Jing Yuan put his arm around him. " Could we leave as soon as possible? I wanna go back to Xianzhou.”

Jing Yuan kissed his head. “Just a little longer.”

And once they leave, t he apartment that was once a lively home for Jing Yuan, his ex-wife, and Yanqing, would be empty… again. Jing Yuan had thought about selling it, but as he still had to visit the city, it wouldn't make sense.

“You’ll be starting summer school,” Jing Yuan said. “Are you excited about that?”

“Yeah! I can also see Pom every day!"

“He needs to work.”

Yanqing pouted. "You’re working him too hard!”

“I promise we’ll go for some great hikes while we’re all there.” Yanqing nodded. Then, Jing Yuan kissed the top of his son’s head. “...Get some sleep.”

It’s months after that he met you. But, perhaps he should keep all of that to himself for now.

“I don’t mind,” Jing Yuan answers.

“Don’t tell me I have to compete with Blade and Luocha, though,” you joke.

“I heard my name,” Luocha says just as he places a hot plate of food on the picnic table. Jingliu, already at the table, passes everyone a drink as they gather. “C’mon, give me the details. I can take compliments.”

“...They were talking about how it’s okay for Yanqing to call her Mom.”

Everyone gasps.

“I don’t know what I should be more shocked about,” Pom says. “Whether Yanqing has a new mom or Blade being in the loop for once!”

You and Jing Yuan end up sitting across from each other. March is next to you while Yanqing is between Jing Yuan and Blade.

“...For once?” Blade deadpans.

“Well, you’re always the last one to know about anything,” Pom says.

March laughs. “That’s, uh, pretty true.” Then, after opening her beer, she leans closer. “So, Yanqing, you have a new mom?”

Yanqing shyly looks at you. “Um, yeah, I-I guess so.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Jingliu says.

“A new mom…” Everyone looks at Dan Heng who’s cutting open his steak with a fork and knife. “...Sounds exciting.”

Dan Feng rolls his eyes. “You sound thrilled, Brother.” Then, he looks at you. “Should we have the new mom introduce herself—ow!” Dan Feng glares at March who slaps his hand.

“You’re making it awkward.”

Jingliu chuckles. “Why not a toast instead?”

“A toast?”

“It’s something to celebrate, isn’t it?”

Jing Yuan looks at you. “I guess this means you’re no longer in training anymore.”

“And it didn’t even take a day,” you say. “I deserve a gold star.”

“But I’ll still be your favourite. Right, Yanqing?”

“You were a favourite?”

“Ouch,” Luocha says, putting a hand over his heart. “Harsh, Liu Liu.” Jingliu gives him a look, and the doctor smiles. “What? That’s your nickname, isn’t it?”

“Wasn’t yours something like Doctor Cha Cha Cha?” Welt asks.

You smile at Luocha. “Now, what’s the story behind that?”

“You just had to bring that up.”

March squishes Luocha’s cheek. “Aw, no need for the frowny face, Doc. Those hips don’t lie!”

Blade nonchalantly takes a bite of his steak. “Yes. You’d never know that Luocha would be so good at salsa by looking at him.”

“King of the Hips…”

Luocha frowns at March. “How did you come up with that? No. Just no.”

As you listen to the lively chatter, you happen to glance at Jing Yuan. He picks up his glass and nods towards your glass. You pick it up but subtly nod at everyone else—none of whom have noticed you and Jing Yuan.

"A toast between us," he says quietly.

The sound of you and Jing Yuan clinking your glasses together grabs everyone’s attention.

“Hey, we want in on the fun too!” March huffs.

Dan Feng nudges his brother who has just taken another bite of his steak.

Yanqing is the first to hold up his apple juice. “To Mom!” When he’s met with silence, he looks around. “What? I thought we were doing a toast!”

Luocha awkwardly scratches his head. “Well, yeah, but I ain’t calling her Mom. That’s just weird.”

“Ah, but you’re thinking too narrowly, Doctor Cha.”

“Oh, then please enlighten me, Liu Liu.”

Jingliu holds up her glass. “To new beginnings.”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that!” Pom says.

Welt nods. “Yes. Sounds like something exciting is right around the corner.”

Then, with one hurrah, a chorus rings out: “To new beginnings!”

As the evening goes on, March and Yanqing end up getting soaked after a tireless water gun fight. Yanqing, having accidentally shot Luocha, gets the man involved who shoots Blade out of spite. Welt, Jingliu, and the brothers are chatting around the barbeque fire pit. You and Jing Yuan could’ve joined them… if only he hadn’t invited you for a walk around the resort.

“...You asked if my ex-wife had been here before,” Jing Yuan says, and you glance at him. “She has.”

What happened between them? Of course, you know better than to drop a personal question like that, but it’s slowly eating away at you.

“Could you tell me what happened here? What do you know about Star Rails Hotel?”

“Ah… but that information comes at a price, Corporal.”

“Really?” you deadpan. “...Fine. I’ll play your little game. What’re you asking for, General?”

“You.” Your heart almost stops at how direct he is. “...And your time.” He looks at you with a little smile. “I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

“Is this one of your special services?”

“It’s an exclusive service where I’ll cook for you, Corporal.”

“...In your private kitchen, I presume?”

“You remember.”

“That’s kinda hard to forget.” A small pause. “Besides, if I don’t come out alive, everyone will know who did it.”

“I guarantee you'll come out alive, but... after tasting my cooking, you’d want me to cook for you every day.”

If you were drinking water, you would’ve choked. “That confident, huh? Well, now I have high expectations.” You clear your throat. “But, back to the matter at hand… I’ve agreed to pay your price.”

“I told you before that their project kept getting delayed… and that was for building a new hotel. But they tried to acquire a boutique hotel. My ex was in charge of that project.”

You aren't too surprised. Boutique hotels are small, quiet, hotels with personal services. From what you know, boutique hotels are also unique in their design and architecture as they often reflect the personality and taste of the owner or the local community. They're also a multi-billion sector.

"The hotel she tried to acquire belonged to my friend."

Jing Yuan was working overtime. Now that he was officially the Director of Operations, he had to take on additional training to fully prepare for his new role in addition to his responsibilities. Upon hearing a knock at the door, he looked up and saw his wife.

“Hey, Handsome. Have time to talk?”

Jing Yuan took off his glasses and stood. Then, he followed her into the living room. “Is something wrong?”

“I… I’d like to ask you for a favour.”

“Of course.” Her bottom lip curled inwards, and she wasn’t looking at him. Jing Yuan put his hands on her shoulders, and she slowly turned and saw his warm gaze. “What is it?”

“I’ve taken on a new project at work.”

So, why the long face?

“But, I’ve run into some trouble… and I was hoping you could help me.” A small pause. “Caelus… Your friend who runs that boutique hotel in Xianzhou? Could you convince him to sell it to us?”

Jing Yuan was at a loss for words. This was not what he was expecting to hear.

“I’ve tried"—she sighs in defeat—"everything to try to convince him. If I can get him to sell it to us, it’d be a huge career boost.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Please, Jing Yuan? T hey can keep their name and whatnot.” She frowned. “I don’t get it. We have so much we can offer them. Why won't they accept it?”

Then, before Jing Yuan could stop himself, he said, “Because not everything is about money.”

“...Caelus and I grew up together,” Jing Yuan says, “and that hotel had been in his family for generations. Their business was taking off when she approached them.”

“Are they still doing well?”

A pause.

“...They closed.”

Something tells you that there’s more to that story.

“...I see,” you say quietly, wondering if his ex had something to do with it. “...You were put in a difficult position.”

“Caelus poured his heart and soul into that business. I already knew that he wouldn’t sell it. Eventually, the project was dropped.”

His wife probably didn’t take that well.

“Now, hang on… Why are people hostile about that? Don’t tell me it’s just because Star Rails tried acquiring a business which failed anyway.”

Another pause.

“...My ex was the first, but she wasn’t the last.” Jing Yuan looks at you. “But, I can’t tell you more because I don’t know the details.”

“Did Caelus inspire you to open a bed and breakfast?”

“Movin’ on fast, aren’t we?”

“Well… truth be told, I learned quite a bit about you today,” you say, not looking at him.

“Did you?”

“Now, hang on a minute. It’s not like I asked.”

“Telling me makes it seem like you did.”

"Smartass.”

Then, you and Jing Yuan smile at each other.

“...Answering that question will be a long story, Corporal.”

A young couple staying at the bed and breakfast waves to Jing Yuan who politely nods in their direction.

“Then… Won’t you enlighten me over a game of chess? I didn't forget about that either."

“Hm… Dinner and chess… all in the same night?”

“No pressure.”

Jing Yuan looks at you. “It’s the best kind of pressure.” You and Jing Yuan are almost back to the barbeque party when he says, “It’s a shame that you know all this about me, and I’m still at square one.”

“Square one? That’s an interesting way of looking at it.” Then, with a smile, you say, “What would the dear ‘ol General like to know?”

“...Is your ex still bothering your mom?”

“I talked to her a few hours ago… and apparently not. So, that’s a good sign.”

“You’ve only mentioned your mom… What about your dad?”

A pause.

“...He left.” Then, with a small, forced smile, you say, “He remarried.”

“...I see. Were you raised by your mom?”

“I was. I was a teenager when it happened, so I went back and forth a lot. But… eventually, I stayed with my mom.”

It was the first time in a long time you were spending time with your father. The last time you saw him, he'd briefly introduced you to his girlfriend, a woman he'd met at work, and you didn't talk much with her other than basic pleasantries. She didn't show an interest in you and you didn't in her.

Now, you were sitting in your father’s car as he drove you back to your mother’s house. You were looking out the window when your father dropped the news.

“...We’re getting married.” Your mind went blank at your father's sudden words. You slowly turned to him who kept his eyes on the road. “I’m getting married.”

You couldn’t even pretend to be happy. Because at that moment, all you could think about was your mother. Your mother—who worked tirelessly to raise you when your father visited and left whenever he wanted. It wasn't until later that you learned he never provided child support for your mother who was working two jobs to support you. She never once talked about remarrying nor talked about meeting someone new. All of her focus was on you.

Now, here was your father, whom you hadn't seen in over a year, dropping the news that he was getting married to a woman who could care less about you. Not that it mattered, but it didn't sit well with you that your father had found new happiness while you and your mother were just scraping by.

“...Good for you.”

He looked at you. “It’s not easy getting someone to accept you when you’re my age and have a child.”

You almost scoffed. “You can just say it. Mom and I are baggage.”

Your father sternly said your name. “What are you saying?”

“That’s pretty much what it sounds like.”

And then he went on… and on… about how he was getting older and wanted someone to grow old with. Wasn’t your mother in the same boat?

“...Your mother and I just didn’t work out.”

You still didn’t look at him. This was a story you’d heard before, and you could almost recite it from memory.

“Yeah, because there wasn’t any love and whatnot,” you muttered. “I get it.” Then, you pointed to the library near your mother’s house. “...You can drop me off there.”

“Are you sure?”

“Exams are coming,” you said flatly.

Your father pulled up to the entrance and shifted the gears. He said your name just as you opened the door. You didn’t say goodbye as you slammed it without turning back.

Jing Yuan knows something’s on your mind by your silence. You'd gone quiet after telling him you eventually stayed with your mom. So, in an attempt to bring you back to happier times, he says, “...You and your mother must be very close."

“We still have our moments. But… I don’t know what I’d do without her.” You glance at him with a small smile. “Yanqing’s lucky to have you.”

“Have you ever thought of having kids?”

“Me?” Your lips form a neat line as you shake your head. “Some people will say that you might change your mind when you meet the right person and whatnot, but… it’s not something I’m thinking about.” A small pause. “...Having kids and raising kids are two different stories.”

“...Very true.”

You and Jing Yuan are close enough to hear loud chatter and overlapping voices. March, Welt, Jingliu, Pom, and Luocha are sitting at the table playing cards. The brothers and Blade are sitting with Yanqing around the barbeque fire making smores.

“How? How is that even possible?” March asks, standing.

“Well, at least I beat March,” Luocha deadpans, looking at everyone’s cards. Jingliu had won, ending the game with a royal flush. Pom and Welt came in second. Luocha came third and March was last.

Welt pushes up his glasses. “Seems like we still have a long way to go.”

“That’s the spirit,” Dan Feng says, walking up with his brother and Yanqing. “Take everything as a learning experience.”

“We brought smores!” Then, being the generous child he is, Yanqing starts passing around the smores he had on a plate. As soon as he sees you and Jing Yuan, he brightens. “They’re back!”

“Where’d you lovebirds head off to?” Dan Feng asks.

Luocha takes a smore off of Yanqing’s plate. “Secret rendezvous?”

You and Jing Yuan look at each other. Then, he says, “We were getting to know each other.”

Yanqing walks up to you and holds the plate up for you to take a smore. “I made these myself!”

“Did you?” You’re about to take one off the plate when you notice it’s the last one. “Looks like there’ll be none for Da—” You had to stop. You’d almost called Jing Yuan Dad, which slightly scared you at how natural it almost slipped out.

Yanqing looks at the plate and says, “Ah… There’ll be none for Dad.”

Dan Feng comes up and playfully swings an arm around you. “You can have one of mine.” He holds out a plate in front of you where there’s one more smore left. “Fresh off the fire.”

“...Don’t mind if I do.” Jing Yuan reaches over and takes Dan Feng’s last smore.

“You knew that wasn’t for you,” he deadpans.

Jing Yuan doesn’t spare his friend a glance. Instead, he looks at Yanqing and says, “...Why don’t you give that to Mom?”

Yanqing lifts the plate to you and looks at you with wide, innocent eyes. When you take it off his plate, you say, “I should savour this then.”

Dan Feng lets go of your shoulder just as Jingliu says, “Well, now that everyone’s here… Shall we go ahead with the plan?”

“Plan?” you ask.

“Heads up!”

You quickly turn and see Pom tossing you a volleyball.

Then, March punches the air. “Let’s play ball!”

After pulling straws, you, Pom, March, and Jingliu are on one team while the brothers, Jing Yuan, and Blade are on the other. Welt is the judge.

“Soo… What did you two talk about, hm?” March asks quietly just as you two are warming up for the game.

“Why are you so interested?” you ask with a little smile.

“Because you two are my friends! And… okay. I am a little curious.”

You think about mentioning his ex, but instead, you say, “He told me about Caelus, his friend. The one who ran a hotel here before.”

March’s smile almost falls instantly. “...Did he?”

What’s with that reaction?

“Yeah… Is something wrong?”

“Ah, no! It’s… it’s nothing.”

It most certainly doesn’t seem like nothing, but before you can ask, you hear Pom’s voice.

“Okay… This is kinda unfair. You have literal athletes on your team! Two of them!”

“You have Jingliu,” Dan Feng says, rolling his shoulder. “She’s two people in one.”

“We’ll win this, Pom.”

Pom looks at Jingliu who has a confident look. Then, he looks past her and calls you and March. “Are you two comin’ or what?”

Suddenly, March’s smile returns, and she raises her arm as if showing off her small muscles. “All right! Let’s go!”

“Go Mom! Go Dad!”

Luocha chuckles. “Wanna bet who wins? My money’s on Team Dad.”

“Then, I’m on Team Mom!”

Pom looks over. “Team Mom? Wait… I’m on this team!”

“Focus, Mommy Pom,” March says. “We have a game to win.”

Dan Heng tosses the ball up and mutters, “...Game on.”

The sun has already set by the time the game finishes with the teams tied, something you aren’t expecting. But, here we are. Jing Yuan, shirtless, stands on the opposite side of the net. You know it’s inappropriate, but your eyes briefly wander his body. The muscles. The dragon tattoo. Your heart races and it takes Pom’s shout to get your focus back. The ball bounces back and forth, and eventually, you set an opportunity for Jingliu to spike.

Jing Yuan counters it, however, and sets the stage for Blade’s sure kill strike.

“Huh… Jing Yuan and Blade make a pretty good duo,” Luocha says.

Yanqing, looking proud of his dads, says, “Of course they do!”

“Oh? Are you switching teams, Yanqing?”

“Go Team Mom!”

And it’s then Jingliu delivers the final strike.

Dan Feng, with his hands on his hips, is breathing heavily. “...You gotta be kidding me.”

“We did it!” March hugs Jingliu who exchanges a high five with you and then Pom. “Yeah! Go Team Mom!”

“And there goes my five dollars,” Luocha says, sighing.

“It was a good match,” Welt says. “Both teams did their best.”

“Too bad the Dads being shirtless wasn’t enough of a distraction,” Luocha jokes.

“Yeah, we’ve seen better,” March adds with a little smile.

Dan Feng shoots her a look. “Body shamin’ now, are we?”

Jingliu chuckles. “All right. It’s late, everybody.”

“In other words… Mom’s telling us to pack up.”

“Wait, wait!” March takes out her phone. “Commemorative photo, everybody!” She looks at Team Dad. “Up to you if you wanna keep your shirts off.”

Somehow, you end up standing in front of Jing Yuan. Yanqing is in front of you; his arms are raised, and you’re holding his hands.

March holds out her phone, getting the perfect angle. Then, she looks over her shoulder. “Would it kill you to smile, Dan Heng?”

“...I am.”

“Eh… Fine. That’ll do.” March looks at her phone and says, “Scoot closer to the front, Jing Yuan!”

He does, and you can just feel his body against yours. Jing Yuan feels you tense, and he takes a small step back, thinking he might’ve made you uncomfortable when in reality…

“Say Team Mom!”

And then March snaps the photo.

By the time everyone’s ready to call it a night, Yanqing runs up to you.

“Can we walk you back?”

We?

Jing Yuan comes up behind his son and asks, “Yes, can we?”

How can you say no?

For most of the walk, Yanqing walks between you and Jing Yuan. It isn’t until Yanqing gets a little restless that he starts jogging up ahead. This gives you an opportunity.

“...Could I ask you a little more about Caelus?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Is he still in Xianzhou?”

There’s a slight pause before Jing Yuan says, “...I’d like to think so.”

When you glance at him, Jing Yuan isn’t looking at you. But, you don’t pursue the matter further when you see Yanqing running up to you.

“Will you come pick me up from school again?”

"Where is this coming from?" you ask.

Yanqing shrugs. "It crossed my mind... and I wanted to ask."

Jing Yuan puts a hand on his shoulder. “She might be busy with work.”

“...If your Dad doesn’t mind.” You look at Jing Yuan who meets your eyes. Then, you look back at Yanqing. “I’d love to.”

Yanqing hugs you, and you affectionately pat the top of his head. "Don't forget we still have to bake cookies for Clara!"

“That we do.”

Yanqing holds your hand, and Jing Yuan watches you walk off with him with a genuine smile. And while he's been actively acting on his feelings. This is the first time he feels it.

Hope. Stupid, stupid hope.

Chapter 8

End notes:

As much as I love Team Mom, I'm on Team Dad for this one... XD.

Not related to the story... but I swear I got Wrio fever. 🫠 I have a story idea that's been poking at my brain so much that I lost sleep over it. LOL. Help.

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @seirenspinel @lxry-chxn @immahuman @queencybow @nqctre @grimreapersscythe @winterpein @asakenajustexistshere

#jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan

76 notes · View notes

theladyofbloodshed · 1 year

Text

Chapter One

My little brain worm has wiggled in with another Lucien x Nesta idea despite my many other projects.

This fic is set a few months after canon ACOSF. Nesta has doubts about her mating bond and life in Velaris. She feels as if she's drowning but nobody notices - except Lucien. Lucien sees Nesta cutting out parts of herself to please the Night Court and is reminded of his mother. He offers Nesta a lifeline to be a neutral party to vent to and a travel companion.

The theme for this fic is Would That I by Hozier!

Tea poured from the spout of the porcelain teapot, filling the cup almost to the brim.

‘Sugar?’

Nesta’s eyes swept over the tray. ‘Lemon?’

‘I’m sure I can find one for you.’

Her eyes trailed the male as he stepped into the kitchen that wasn’t his to find lemon for her tea. It was a noisy evening. The wine had been broken out long ago as stories were traded over raucous laughter. Elain had been part of it until Lucien arrived late, during the third course, so she had slunk away into the safety of Azriel’s shadows rather than risk a conversation with him. The two wraiths were keeping an ear out of Nyx whilst he slept upstairs and Nesta had wanted to sneak upstairs out of the way before Lucien had occupied the chair beside her.

It had been months since the ordeal of the Blood Rite, months since Nyx was brought into this world through Nesta’s intervention, and months since the lavish mating ceremony that she had thought would fix everything. It hadn’t. With every day that passed, Nesta felt less and less like herself. She glanced over at Cassian who had one leg slung over the arm of a couch and his head was in Mor’s lap while she squeezed his cheeks together, both laughing. Everybody was laughing, even Azriel. And Nesta sat on the outskirts of a group she didn’t belong to, as always.

‘Found one,’ said Lucien, as he brandished a wedge of lemon at her.

The juice dribbled into her tea as he squeezed it, but his eyes were also on the group. A crease appeared between his brow but he did not pass a comment.

‘How was the Continent?’

‘Enjoyable. I was in Rask.’

‘I don’t know it, I’m afraid.’

Lucien seemed to come alive now that there was an opening in the conversation. ‘It’s obscenely wealthy – worse than here. Their army is vast and all have gilded armour. The actual country is beautiful too. It has deep mines filled with jewels. Palaces built into the clouds.’

‘And the people?’

‘Like any nation. Intelligence is valued in Rask. There is no king or queen, but instead an elected council of strategists and dreamers who strive for greatness. The people vote every decade and there are year-long campaigns for positions on the council.’

It sounded unreal to Nesta. A place where birth right or a marriage of opportunity was not the only way to climb high in society.

‘I wanted to go to the Continent,’ she shared. ‘Years ago, when I was dreaming of a life away from our cottage, before all of this.’

‘You still could go,’ said Lucien.

There were still uneasy relations between Prythian and the Continent due to the war that happened five centuries ago. They had poor opinions of mortals – and some nations had almost allied with Hybern again during the most recent war. Nesta knew it edged too close to Koschei as well for her to ever be allowed to go there.

‘I don’t think Cassian or Feyre would be happy for me to go there.’

A strange expression twisted Lucien’s features then he let out a sigh. He brought his cups to his lips, deep in thought.

Elain’s eyes flickered to the pair of them, worry rendering her silent as if Nesta was spilling all of her secrets to her unwanted mate.

‘Would you like a glass of wine like the others?’

Nesta shook her head quickly. ‘It’s better if I don’t drink.’

‘Who said that? You or somebody else?’

Nesta’s lips pursed. Many people. Mor. Amren. Cassian. Feyre. Rhys. They all had their opinion on her life.

‘It’s better if I don’t.’

‘Then how about a drop of honey in your tea?’

She let out a soft exhale. ‘Sugar is not good when I’m training. Lacks any real energy.’

Lucien’s fingers tightened around the spoon, poised to dollop a spoonful into his own cup to sweeten it. ‘You’re not training now. If you want it, say so.’ He blinked a few times then dropped his voice. ‘They don’t sound like your words, Nesta. If you want it, have it. It’s a bit of honey, for goodness’ sake.’

She gave a stiff nod. The tea did taste better with it, far sweeter as she preferred. It was the only sugar she was likely to get in the next few days besides. Weeks earlier, Cassian had steered her away from a decadent new bakery overlooking the Sidra where everything was fried or pumped with cream or rolled in sugar. She was still dreaming of it.

In silence, they sipped at the tea, letting snippets of the group’s conversation meet their ears. The high lord and lady were being their usual nauseating selves by managing to slip innuendos into every topic. Their hands pawed at each other regardless of the audience. Even after all the time that had passed, it still made Nesta uncomfortable to bear witness to it. She was becoming used to the highly charged comments that seemed to be a currency in Prythian, but others were not as sex-obsessed as her sister and her mate. There was a time and place for that impropriety – the living room with everybody looking on was not it.

This could not be her life forever. Before Lucien had sat beside her, it could not have been more apparent that Nesta still sat on the fringes of this group. She had sat alone with only a book for company while they clustered together near the open windows, chatting with an ease she didn’t possess after dinner. She had tried so hard to fit in – to be like them. Nesta attended every dinner but when they became a nightly ritual to eat, drink, chat, she began asking Cassian if they could have time as just the two of them. He wondered if she had argued with her sisters. The idea that Nesta wouldn’t want to spend every free evening with his family was unfathomable to him. She had only wanted his company sometimes, not all of them. Nesta stopped asking. And for her sisters, Nesta visited them whenever they requested. She cared for Nyx but he spent so much of his time with the wraiths so Feyre and Rhys could remain locked together as they ruled their court. Elain could only talk of gardening and Feyre could only gush about her baby or her mate.

If Nesta did not have Gwyn and Emerie, she would have been so lonely. It was their company that kept her standing. These last few weeks had felt like trying to hold together a crumbling building – but she felt as if she was the only one who saw the damage. Cassian didn’t seem to notice how muted she was. Nobody asked her about training. They didn’t ask about her friends. There was no expectation for Nesta to do anything now except be Cassian’s mate. And she hated herself for having no goals for the future. This could not be her life, night after night, sat on the edge of a group she didn’t belong to, trapped in Velaris. There had to be more to it.

Lucien settled his cup down on the small table in front of their couch. ‘I’m quite tired from my journey. It was nice to talk to you, Nesta. I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you a lot previously.’

‘I was a viper before my mating.’

She had meant it as a jest, but part of Lucien’s expression fractured into something like pain. He nodded then made to say his goodbyes to the others.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve set up a room for you in the House of Wind while you’re here,’ Rhys said, a hand tangling in Feyre’s hair. ‘Nyx is cutting a tooth and he’ll keep you awake otherwise.’

Lucien shrugged to show he didn’t mind, but he added, ‘It’s not my house. Cassian, Nesta, if you don’t mind?’

‘No problem, Vanserra. You’re welcome to join training in the morning. The females can show you what they’ve been learning.’

‘Not for me, but thank you for the offer, Cassian.’

Rhys stood to winnow him. Nesta leapt to her feet too. ‘Can you take me too? I’m quite tired.’

It wasn’t unusual for Nesta to leave early. Often, she feigned tiredness or a late-night meeting in the library with Gwyn. She’d rather sit alone at home than sit alone here.

Cassian reached out his hand to summon his mate to him. He couldn’t stand up because Mor had her legs draped across him. Nesta pressed her wrath down and let him kiss her on the lips, even if she hated to do so in public. But he liked it. There was a lot that Nesta did to please her mate.

Rhys didn’t linger after winnowing them onto the roof. He gave a short goodbye before disappearing into the night. Lucien followed Nesta as she walked the lengthy corridors, peeling back doors to find which room had been designated for Lucien while he stayed a couple of nights in the City of Starlight. A plush room overlooking the city was his, complete with a desk and rug from Sangravah.

‘I hope it’s to your liking,’ she said.

Lucien’s fingers enclosed around her thin wrist. The heat from his skin sizzled like a brand against her own. Cassian would scent him on her when he came home.

‘How can you bear this?’ His voice was quiet, hurt.

Her brow furrowed at his question. Was he asking about the unbearably tender way his thumb stroked over her veins or her life in general?

‘What?’

‘This is your house, apparently. And I am a guest because the high lord decided it. Not you. Not your mate. How are you not angry, Nesta?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Do you like this? Any of this? You live in a fucking house you cannot escape from.’

‘The house is my friend.’

‘It is a house! You cannot leave without your mate allowing it. And still the high lord uses it for his official functions so it is not truly yours. He has put me in your home as a guest without your consent. None of these rooms were decorated by you. You own nothing here. You are a glorified prisoner.’

It should have made her angry. Her rage should have been a wild, violent thing but Lucien’s words had rattled around in her own head for weeks. She wanted a garden to potter around in when they had fair weather, a nook cut into the window to read her books in as the sun kissed her skin, a place for just her and Cassian that wasn’t a communal space. But in the last couple of weeks, she had wanted a space for her, without Cassian. She wanted a break from him sometimes. There was no joy to be found with him. Nesta no longer looked forward to him returning from lllyria – she dreaded it. Whenever their bodies weren’t slick with sweat from coupling, they had little to talk about. She listened to him speak of Illyria or Rhys, but she had nothing to share with him. He was with her when she trained, with her for dinners. The only time she had alone was when she was sent to work in the library or when she read – and Cassian didn’t care for books.

‘Do you even want to train?’

‘It makes Cassian happy when I do.’

‘And you?’ He stared at her in disbelief. ‘What joy do you get from it?’

Nesta tried to leave. He was throwing truths at her that she’d been trying so hard to ignore. That hand stayed clutching her wrist like an anchor that Lucien would not let go of.

‘Nesta Archeron, you changed your anatomy for that male after he made you march in the Illyrian mountains until you collapsed. They have torn out your claws and ripped out your fangs to make you more palatable. How can you not be angry when your mate has his head in another female’s lap? When he cannot even be bothered to say a proper goodbye because her legs hold him there. How are you not angry about the way he treats you?’

‘I am angry,’ she roared back, her rage flooding out of her in a wave she could not longer control. ‘I hate it. I hate all of it. I hate who I am – worse than before. I hate everything, Lucien. I feel like I am drowning and nobody can see.’

He gripped her other arm so he stood in front of her. ‘I see you. I see a female who is cutting out parts of herself to please others – and you will have nothing left, Nesta. Do not become my mother. What has Cassian changed for you? What has he altered in his life for you?’

‘Nothing. He has changed nothing. He has given up nothing. And I have given up everything for him.’

A sob broke out of her. She hated to cry, hated anybody else to bear witness to her pain, but Lucien wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as she cried.

On the dawn of her mating ceremony, her stomach had been in knots. She’d wanted to call the whole thing off, but Elain and Feyre had convinced her that nerves were normal. If it was her wedding morning as a mortal, then she’d feel the same cold feet and reluctance so she had gone through with it. After, when Cassian danced with Mor and Feyre instead of her, she had cried on Gwyn’s shoulder. Nobody had noticed she was not even there for the final few hours. Emerie had told her that a mating ceremony was supposed to fill her with absolute joy – not dread – as she’d rubbed a hand along her spine. She had known a handful of people at the mating ceremony. They were all associates of Rhysand. Nesta had felt like a shiny trophy that was showed off by the Night Court; a prize that Cassian had finally won.

For weeks, Nesta’s mind played the same thing on a loop: not right, not right, not right.

Without Cassian, without the Night Court, Nesta had nothing. No money, no home. And she had lost her last home, lost the wealth that the High Lord of Spring had provided, lost her damn mortality due to the Night Court’s interventions. She had lost it once, lost it twice. There was no happiness here. Nesta couldn’t even say if she loved Cassian or the idea of him anymore. She could lose it all for a third time. Start again and try and find the happiness she deserved rather than the one she tried to give to everybody else by trading in the parts of her she had once liked.

‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.’

Nesta managed to pry her head from Lucien’s chest. She hadn’t shared those words with any – not Gwyn or Emerie – and shouldn’t have admitted those things to Lucien. A mating bond was supposed to be a happy thing. They ought to have been happy. But maybe Lucien knew better than any how wrong a mating bond could be.

‘Tomorrow, why don’t we take a walk in the fresh air? Consider me a neutral party to your woes.’

‘I have to train tomorrow.’

‘Have to?’

It was almost a year since she began the rigorous daily schedule laid out by her sister in that terrible meeting. Wake up, eat, train, eat, go to the library, eat, rest, repeat. She had barely missed a day. There was little variance to her days. It had panicked Nesta once, to think of a life without that steady, predictable routine. Now, she loathed it. It was a monotony that was slowly killing her.

‘In my personal opinion, it is better to step out now rather than one hundred years down the line. You do not want to look back and think of how much time you gave to people who did not deserve it. Time is the one thing we can never have again.’

His words made sense, but it was terrifying to go against the grain once more.

‘Let’s say ten by the market. If you’re there, you’re there. If you’re not, I won’t be cross.’ Lucien finally released his hands from her body, and she felt suddenly cold without his warmth. ‘Nesta, do what is best for you. They surely will do the same for themselves.’

That night, she was unable to settle. Her mind churned with worries and possibilities. In the rare time that Nesta had ever expressed to Cassian the desire for more, he could not understand it. For him, Velaris was everything he needed. He was settled. He’d had five hundred years here and wanted five hundred more. That thought terrified Nesta. There was a whole world out there and she would never see it if she stayed here, confined to the secret city.

When Cassian came to bed, he stunk of wine. He lumbered through the doors with his heavy steps. If she had been asleep, the light streaming in from the open door and the noise would have woken her. Nesta forced out a breath to try and calm her before she snapped at him. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come crashing into their bedroom after drinking with Azriel or Mor, sometimes even Feyre and Rhys. It was fine for them to do such a thing. Of course, it was. She forced out another breath, trying to calm the waves of anger that had been coming more frequently recently.

A heavy arm landed on her, pinning her to the bed, then a wing. It had once been something she craved. Now, Nesta knew she had only wanted comfort. Cassian had provided release to her when all other opportunities were taken. His weight was too heavy, suffocating even. And as Nesta tried to sleep, two words rang out again in her mind: not right, not right, not right.

***

The quilt was slowly pulled from her body as Cassian attempted to wake her. Nesta had slept terribly, adrift with worries and stress. It had not been far off dawn when she had finally managed to close her eyes and sleep.

‘I drank half a brewery last night and even I’m up before you.’

‘You smell like it,’ she said, before she could jail it.

‘Someone woke up pissed today.’

Last night, Nesta had prepared reasons to excuse herself from training. They had ranged from feeling unwell, her cycle coming, having plans with Gwyn which would require her to race to the library and ask her friend to also not attend. All of them disintegrated. She didn't owe him - or anybody - a reason.

‘I’m not training today.’

Cassian folded his arms across his chest. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m not.’

Her mood was prickly already like she had been months ago. It didn’t matter how many times Nesta had cut off her spikes, they always grew back.

‘That’s not a reason.’

‘I need to be flown to Velaris this morning, please. Otherwise, I should begin taking the stairs.’

Cassian raised his brows, but did not say anything else. It almost disappointed Nesta because she had been hankering for an argument. That was their most effective way of discussion. When Nesta tried to breeze past him, Cassian stopped her. ‘Breakfast.’

Nesta was in that mood. It had been a long time since she had let herself feel that way. As they sat at the table for breakfast, the house deposited a bland bowl of porridge for her. It had become her staple breakfast. Occasionally, a handful of berries might appear in it too, but it was usually plain porridge with water – not even milk. She added a heaped spoon of sugar into her porridge, under Cassian’s watchful eye.

‘That much sugar is not good for you, Nes. You’ll have no energy.’

Nesta nodded, used to the lecture, and added another spoon of sugar because that mood meant she was ready for an argument.

‘I want sugar. Porridge is the most boring meal I could ever envision. At least some sugar makes it bearable.’

‘If you must sweeten it, try a mashed banana.’

‘If I must? Yes. I must, because it is my breakfast and my body, Cassian. You do not have authority over it.’

Cassian threw up his hands so Nesta knew the battle was already won. ‘Ask Az to take you to Velaris. I’m not dealing with you this morning.’

Another person in their house.

Nesta watched him leave, satisfied and angry all at once. A banana appeared on the table near her bowl. She frowned. ‘Don’t listen to him. I hate banana.’

The house reclaimed it.

Knocking on the bedroom that Azriel tended to sleep in was always intimidating. He never ever let Nesta see an inch of the room. He’d slip through the gap and stand in front of her, closing the door behind him or obscuring it was shadow. Her, Gwyn, and Emerie had once spent an evening wondering what nefarious things he might have inside of it to make him so secretive. Emerie was certain there was a body in there. Or several of them.

As expected, he quickly hid his room from view.

‘Please could you take me into the city?’

‘Where’s Cass?’

‘Not dealing with me this morning,’ she replied brightly. Not a single part of Nesta felt bad about irritating Cassian over breakfast either. ‘Can you?’

Azriel nodded. ‘I’ve just taken Lucien’s to Rhys. Do you need to go now?’

There was about forty minutes until Lucien’s suggested meeting time, but Nesta wanted out of this house. ‘You sound irritated about that.’

‘I’m not a delivery service,’ said Azriel.

Nesta gave a shrug of her left shoulder. ‘Then maybe I shouldn’t be forced to live in a house that I cannot enter or leave without assistance. And maybe Rhys shouldn’t invite people into my house who have the same issue as me.’

She clapped her hands together. The words were leaking out, words that she had spent months clipping and locking away so that she would be seen as nicer and softer and kinder and gentler. Nesta was sure the moment that Azriel came into contact with Cassian, the males would discuss how difficult she was that morning, because as soon as Nesta stopped being compliant to their every whim, she was difficult.

If Azriel was annoyed, he did not show it. Gently, he lifted her to his arms and flew her into the city. Flight still made her queasy. The sudden drop made her stomach lurch no matter how carefully an Illyrian flew. She was set down on a street where she could look up to the House of Wind cut from the mountain. ‘Should I collect you at a certain time or send Cass?’

‘I’ll figure something out. Thank you.’

Without lingering, Nesta turned on her heel to examine the streets that she rarely got to explore. It was a pretty city, undoubtedly, but a city did not feel like home to Nesta. Neither did a crumbling cottage in the woods. Home had existed for a brief number of months. It had been the manor provided by Tamlin that straddled the forest and society. Nesta had enjoyed stepping into civilisation as much as she had enjoyed taking a step back and savouring the peace and quiet that the grounds had allowed. She wasn’t likely to find that in the Night Court, although perhaps Illyria could provide that if the males weren’t so decidedly hateful towards females, and especially towards her. It would be a life of fear there. Nesta had stepped foot once in Illyria since the Blood Rite and it had almost sparked a war. None would listen to her pleas that she had not wanted to enter it, that reaching Ramiel hadn’t been a goal, but the only way for her friends to survive. She had needed to be whisked out of Windhaven as a mob grew. They claimed she had made the ground unhallowed. No, Illyria would never be home.

With every passing minute that Nesta had her own independence, she remembered how much she had loved it. Nobody barking orders at her. Nobody thrusting her into a hole that she didn’t fit through. No expectations, no judgements. Just her.

Although Nesta did not have her own bank account, she had access to Cassian’s, as his mate. Until it was time to meet Lucien, Nesta pottered amongst the shops, gazing wistfully at the items. If it was her own money then she’d have happily splurged on more, but she settled only for a notebook with a darling illustration on the cover. The market was busy so she kept to the edges, peering over shoulders or through the gaps of bodies at stalls. The rich scents of spices filled the air, making her long for the far-off places that she would never visit if her life remained this way.

‘You freed yourself of the shackles of the House of Wind then?’

Nesta rolled her eyes at the sight of Lucien’s grinning face. ‘You are a bad influence.’

‘I’m glad you’re here, all the same.’ Almost instinctively, Lucien moved towards her and placed a kiss on her cheek. It ought to have been nothing – she was used to such behaviour from mortal men though they tended to kiss a hand with quivering lips from the icy glares she would give them. Yet, Lucien’s touch kindled something in Nesta.

‘Have you eaten?’

‘I had porridge. Two spoons of sugar, much to Cassian’s annoyance.’

Lucien’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’ll cause a scandal. Sugar. Not training. Whatever next?’

Nesta rubbed her hands together with delight. ‘You see there is a recently opened bakery that my lovely mate forbade me from entering. He claimed there was no nutritional value in any of it. So, Lucien, I should like to stuff myself silly, if that’s quite alright?’

An arm was extended for her to take. ‘Have Illyrians never heard of eating food simply because it tastes good?’

‘If it’s not chopped from a dead animal, it’s not worth it.’

It was surprisingly easy to talk to Lucien Vanserra. Nesta could not help but think how well Elain would get on with him if she actually bothered to have a civil conversation rather than hiding, the wretch. He was well-mannered and personable, guiding her through the market while sharing details of his morning meeting with Rhysand. Nesta had to wonder if he shared it simply because he also had nobody else to talk to beyond Jurian and Vassa in the mortal lands.

The bakery was painted a navy blue with silver lettering broadcasting the name. As Nesta stared through the window, she made an audible groan.

‘There’s too much choice.’

‘Eat it all. We have time.’

Lucien led the way to a table tucked into an alcove, out of sight from prying eyes. The few customers had opted for tables outside in the sunshine, but he had joked that his eye would blind Nesta if the sun hit it at the wrong angle. She found that she liked his jokes. They tended to be at his own expense rather than hers.

For starters, they shared a pot of black tea with milk, a scone heaped with jam and cream that they cut in two and a slab of carrot cake.

‘Cheers,’ said Lucien, knocking the brim of his teacup to hers.

‘Not far from here is a tavern that I used to go to when I was the Night Court’s nightmare.’

‘And now you are their dream come true.’

Nesta grimaced then gulped down a mouthful of too-hot tea. ‘Not this morning.’

She explained how she had been happy to incite an argument with Cassian but he’d not quite risen to the bait, then had been brisk with Azriel. Lucien didn’t berate her for it or tell her to be grateful that they trained or who flew her. He just let out a soft, tinkering laugh. ‘If that’s how you feel, that’s how you feel. You shouldn’t have to constantly stamp on yourself.’

Nesta shook her head. ‘But I’m not a nice person, Lucien. After the Blood Rite, after what happened with Feyre and Nyx, I vowed to be better. I want to earn their love.’

Lucien made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. ‘Earn it? Fucking hell, Nesta, you saved the high lord, the high lady, and the heir. And you think somehow you have to earn their love?’

Before Nesta could speak, Lucien held up a hand. His brows had bunched together. ‘What have they done to earn yours?’

‘They gave me a home.’

‘After they tore down your apartment and evicted you from it.’

‘No, I mean after I left the mortal lands.’

‘Because they meddled in your life. Because Rhysand promised to have guards protect you, but when it came to it, they were not there and you went into the Cauldron.’

When it was put that way, the altruistic side of the Night Court was tinged more with necessity. Nesta swallowed against her dry throat. A small part of her had known that the only reason the Night Court had extended the branch of friendship to her was due to Feyre’s mating bond.

‘I wasn’t in a good place last year, Lucien. They helped me.’

‘They put you in that bad place, Nesta. They locked you in a house to keep you safe but trotted you out into danger when it suited them. You were taken to one of the most dangerous places in Prythian – the Bog of Oorid – so please forgive me when I say, it was not about your safety. It was about keeping you where they could see you.’

Urgh. Curse this male for striking at the truths that Nesta pretended not to see so that her anger didn’t seize control of her limbs.

‘I was fucking anything that walked.’

‘You weren’t fucking the right male, pardon my crude language. It wasn’t about the other males, it was the fact it wasn’t Cassian. If it isn’t true then why couldn’t you train with Azriel? Why couldn’t he be your chaperone? Why did they trap you with Cassian who has had his eyes on you since the moment he met you? Why did they never help you to train your magic?’

Nesta shoved the last wedge of carrot cake into her mouth, to give her a chance to think of rebuttals to all of Lucien’s very valid points. When she could think of nothing, Nesta said, ‘You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.’

‘I have,’ he said swiftly. ‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I worried about you. You reminded me of my mother too much. It made my conscience restless.’

‘I was pissing their money away in taverns.’

‘And they are short of money.’

‘It’s not the point,’ Nesta said, sweeping her hand in the air. ‘It was not my money to spend.’

‘Except you fought in the war and told your story. Were you paid for those things?’

‘No.’

‘And now, you are paid?’

‘What should I be paid for? For exercising? No, Lucien. I use Cassian’s money.’

It all sounded ridiculous. It was as if she was holding up a sheet and Lucien was stabbing holes into it. Everything he said made sense so Nesta couldn’t understand why she was still trying to argue in support of the Inner Circle.

Lucien folded his fingers together, watching as the waitress took away their dirty plates with the promise of bringing macarons and biscuits for their next pot of tea.

��So that I understand, you no longer have any income whatsoever. You are reliant on your mate’s money. You are reliant on your mate to come and go from your own house. You follow the same schedule every day with no room for deviation. because it might upset your mate if you want more.’

A bland smile was plastered on her face. ‘That sounds about right.’

‘How can you be happy with a life that is so…’

‘Shit.’

The male choked on his laugh. ‘I was going to say stagnant.’

‘It is shit, Lucien. I know that. I am so bored already and I have an eternity of it, of being Cassian’s pretty, docile mate. I am losing my mind in this city. I hate it. I hate it. We have already run out of conversation and we haven’t even been mated for a year. The only thing he talks about is Rhys or Mor or Feyre. I want to scream.’

‘Scream then.’

Her grey eyes scanned the quiet bakery. ‘What, here? Just scream?’

‘Why not?’ he teased.

‘You are insane.’

‘I’m not the one giving up on myself to please people that do not care.’

Their heated discussion was interrupted by their second course of desserts. In silence, Lucien poured a fresh cup of tea for them both that Nesta dunked a biscuit in so aggressively that tea spilt over the edge onto the pristine, white tablecloth.

‘I’m not giving up on myself,’ she muttered.

‘Where are your dreams, Nesta? This cannot be your forever.’

‘I know,’ she said with a desperate plea in her voice. ‘What would you have me do? Nobody liked me when I was a viper. You didn’t like me.’

‘I never disliked you. You terrified me, yes. I admired that unbending spirit, the fact that you didn’t care who you stood up for yourself against, whether it was mortal queens or Rhys or my father. They have smoothed all of your sharp edges. The moment that they find another thing that doesn’t fit their perfect ideal, they will remove that too. Nesta,’ he sighed, ‘get yourself out of here.’

‘But Cassian’s my mate and I can’t just give up on that.’

‘He is five hundred and unlikely to change his ways. Do you want to spend every evening watching him with his arm around Mor?’

‘No. I wanted to gouge their eyes out yesterday.’

‘Me too. I nearly asked them what they thought they were doing.’

The thought made Nesta smile. Maybe there was somebody else in her corner rather than her alone. ‘Whenever I raise the topic, I’m brushed away. They’re just friends. They’re like siblings. Do you see me giving Elain a foot massage? I don’t feel good enough for him, Lucien. I can never compare to Morrigan.’

A thumb brushed against her cheekbone. There was real hurt in Lucien’s expression. ‘You are worth ten of them.’

Once they had both hit a wall with the amount of sugar they could ingest, they took a laboured walk along the river’s edge. Nesta kept one hand on her protruding stomach. ‘I am so full.’

Lucien murmured in agreement.

They followed the curve of the river all the way until the outskirts of the city where they crossed over one of the final bridges still within the boundary of Velaris then began their return on the other side of the Sidra for a different view. Nesta shared with him that this city did not truly feel like a home. And how could it when it wasn’t a home she had chosen? Not even a damn pillowcase was chosen by her. Their trailing feet led them to the sprawling river estate belonging to the high lord and lady of the Night Court. They’d have to scrounge a return to the House of Wind that way. Somebody would have to winnow or fly them both. If it annoyed them then good, Nesta thought, it annoys me that I cannot get into my own house.

‘I’m off again tomorrow for a few days. There’s a place for you to accompany me – if you’d like it.’

‘Where?’

‘Dawn Court. It’s safe. Still Prythian.’

Her body gave an involuntary twist of worry. ‘Cassian wouldn't be happy with me going with another male.’

'We're just friends. Tell him that, just as he and Mor are just friends.'

'You play a dangerous game,' she warned. 'Cassian won't-'

‘Fuck Cassian. What do you want?’

‘What’s in the Dawn Court?’

‘Only one dreary meeting with their emissary who is about as old as Prythian itself. Beyond that, golden hills and white sands. Beautiful plants, the brightest minds, and I’m sure lots of bakeries.’ Lucien threw her a wink. ‘Please, consider it. If you have to lie that you want to be emissary again or it’s for Gwyneth’s research, do it. Get out anyway you can.’

She felt her lips twisting into a rare, true smile. ‘To the Dawn Court then.’

#lucien vanserra #nesta archeron #lucien x nesta #nesta x lucien #be consumed by the flame

261 notes · View notes

francesminos-tt · 1 year

Text

I stumbled upon a post here saying Joff is Jacegan’s son, and I also know about a fic where Viserys is Lucemond’s love child, which make me think. A lot. How about a modern au where Joff is Jace and Cregan’s son, Aegon the younger is Rhaenyra and Daemon’s son where Viserys Jr is Luke and Aemond’s son. I am messing up some age gap here.

Please don’t take this too seriously. It’s just a quick crack post!

When Joffrey was born

Jace 20

Cregan 21

Luke 18

Aemond 23

Daeron 13

Jace gave birth to Joff when he was 20. It was totally unexpected, truly, he didn’t even realize he was pregnant until like 4 months in. He was still trying to figure out who he really wanted, Cregan or Sara. (It is Cregan. It is Cregan from the start. Even Sara knows it, if her speech at Jace and Cregan’s wedding is anything to go by.) Jace panicked all through his pregnancy, thinking himself a failure to be knocked up while still in college. He ceased that line of thought the moment he got little Joff in his arms. All is well after that. (Or maybe not, because Jace worked nonstop after Joff’s birth, trying to make up for all the missing school work and graduate in time. Cregan had to feed him real food. Humans can’t survive solely on energy drinks, obviously. One would expect someone smart as Jace, a leading debater at the school debate team, should know better. But alas. Fortunately Cregan was there to help, and he had no intention of ever leaving Jace’s side.)

Luke beats his big brother’s record by giving birth at 18. (19, Luke agues, his water broke when celebrating his 19th nameday, so technically he was 19 when Viserys Jr was born.) Unlike Jace, his pregnancy was a carefully constructed plan to baby trap Aemond. And it worked. Luke is very proud of himself. Aemond can play hard to get for all he likes, but Luke knows his scaring uncle has feelings for him. Or else who would stare at someone like Aemond does every time their extended family is forced to get together? When Luke learned Aemond would go to Citadel School of Business for a master’s degree next year, he knew he had to act quickly. He pulled some strings (black mailed Aegon, to be precise) to get Aemond’s schedule and successfully stumbled upon a drunk Aemond outside a shady bar. The rest is history. (Luke shared his pregnancy with his mother Rhaenyra, who was expecting her first child with her uncle Daemon. They made so many uncle fucking jokes that Jace had to flee the room out of sheer terror. Luke laughed until Aemond picked him up from the sofa to go get a scheduled ultrasound. Aegon the younger was born 3 months prior to Viserys Jr.)

Joffrey always feels like a big brother to Aegon the younger and Viserys Jr growing up, although he is only one year older than them. He takes after Jace, apparently, to care for the little ones, but he also inherited Cregan’s protectiveness toward his family. So when he sees Aegon and Viserys being bullied by some shitface, he rushes to their rescue. Joff took several punches, sure, but he also kicked one of the bullies on the balls. (Cregan is so proud. Jace, not so much at first, but after he learns Joff only gets in a fight to protect Aegon and Viserys, he gets Joff a Switch as reward.) Joff is at least a head shorter than the bullies, so he slowly loses his ground and is about to be shoved into a stinking pond when his knight in shining armor arrives. Daeron is on his way back from tennis training when he saves Joff from drowning in a stinking pond worse than the sewers. Joff spits out disgusting water and kicks Daeron on the shin. To his credit, Joff doesn’t need protection, he can fucking defend himself thank you very much. (Language! Jace shouts.) Years later, when Daeron nervously asks Joff to go on a date with him, Joff barely spares him a glance as he says yes. Daeron is more nervous than he goes to a Grand Slam Final. He can’t be blamed. He’s asking his great-nephew (Oh god that sounds wrong) 13 years his junior to go on a date with him.

Later at a family dinner

Cregan: Look I will allow you to date my son only if you get your tennis player buddies to sign the autograph- (Jace throwing him death glare) Never. I mean I will never let you defile my precious little Joffrey.

Daeron: Come to think of it, I am only 13 years older than Joff while uncle Daemon is like 16 years older than Rhaenyra. No offense, uncle Daemon.

Daemon (sipping wine, looking smug): None taken, kid.

Luke: I know I am not the best person to say this-

Aemond: You are not.

Luke: Shut up.

Aemond: Make me.

Rhaenyra (ignoring the gross sound of kissing in the background): Joff, dear, just remember to use protection. I have some condoms in my drawer that you may like. I believe they are coke flavor.

Jace: MUM!

Daeron: Thank you sister, but I don't think it will be necessary. I won’t even hold Joff’s hands until his 16th nameday.

Jace: YOU WANT TO HOLD MY SON’S HANDS???

Luke (finally breaks the kiss but still sits on Aemond’s lap): Now I feel like we are not the sickest couple in this family anymore.

Aemond: I can be sick.

Jace: THIS IS NOT A COMPETITION!!

Joff (stealing Daeron’s desert while frantically poking at his Switch. Damn that dragon is hard to defeat)

#aemond x lucerys #lucemond #house of the dragon #hotd #mpreg #jacegan #jacaerys velaryon #cregan x jace #daeron x joffrey #joffrey velaryon #joffron #crack

290 notes · View notes

peachyxreads · 2 years

Text

Crossing the Line || M.M.

Pairing: professor!Matt Murdock x college!reader (afab)

Summary: You’ve developed a close friendship with Professor Murdock over the years, hiding your true feelings militantly. A few months prior to graduation, you come to him in distress and finally find out how he feels about you.

Includes: fluff, smut, teacher/student relationship, no gendered language, no y/n, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, nondescript hormonal birth control, professor murdock

Words: ~3.5k

A/N: Thank you so so much to the lovely folks who offered to beta and proof my first fic, including @thegreengoop and @scarletsloveletter!! And please feel free to hit me up with comments or feedback, even prompts! Likes and reblogs also let me know you like my work :) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: MINORS DNI. I do not condone the theft of content I create and share.

Warmth, strength, a certain crispness of his pressed shirt or his fading cologne—you're not sure which—and tenderness. That is all you can feel, all you can take in from the world as he holds you in a gentle hug.

This hug, this warmth, with your arms under his, his left arm wrapped around your back and other hand squeezing your neck, this has come after years of wondering if he knew how you felt about him, if he felt the same way. You've also spent these years wondering if your feelings are real or if they're childish—some immaturity, some need for attention and validation you never grew out of. But looking into his brightening face and lifted posture every time you meet, seeing the wildness in him and yourself throughout all of your excited discussions, you know it's real. Whether or not he thinks about you in bed at night the way you do him, it's real. It's friendship, at least. Companionship probably not unlike what he's had with other students before. Or so you thought.

You've known Professor Murdock for a little over two years, taking his classes every other semester or so, visiting his office hours to chat when you aren't his student. The two of you have developed an easy relationship; you respect each other, delight in each other, never get too close but enjoy a comfortable distance—or rather an appropriate closeness—you found after a while. He knows your work and you know his instruction. Each of you knows the other's passions well, each of you knows the other's fears and holds them softly in your heart.

Matt's a young professor and a great one at that. Other than his obvious, somehow humble charm, the way he instantly connects with his students enchanted you from the day you met. He has the sharpness you and your peers strive for and hope is only a few years away, and he encourages you all, giving you the support and inspiration you need to get there. Though, he likes to tell you that you're sharp, that you're years ahead of him. Any compliment hinting at an equality between the two of you births a thousand butterflies in your stomach, and elsewhere. When you explain your latest research project or what you think of the last novel you read and he looks utterly captivated, you can't help but want him to get up, close the door, and lock it before returning to you in a passionate fever. Just the idea of the sound of the lock clicking, the shift in the air it represents, makes you swoon inside, drool like Pavlov's dog. Tick.

You went to him in need today, catching him after his smallest class as the room would be next in coziness and remoteness after his office. No office hours today. Today, the day you received a response from your dream grad school. Your application was denied. You applied to others, of course, but you can't help the tears begging to spring forward with defeat. You feel as though you've failed. How could you really be as sharp as he says you are? As sharp as he repeatedly praised you for being throughout the application process? You shared it all with him. And now it's ruined.

You walk through the door as the last few students part. He's gathering his things and readying to leave. He doesn't notice you right away, your steps gentle and voice paralyzed. When he turns to the door you break the silence.

"Professor Murdock…" you struggle to sigh, choked up. He recognizes your voice instantly, his frame rupturing in a small jolt and face taking a delighted, curious expression. This fades a little once he realizes the pain he heard in your speech.

"Hey, are you alright?" He sets his briefcase down and removes his glasses—he knows it's just the two of you now—before moving toward you with urgency.

"Yeah, n-no…I didn't get in. I was rejected. The others, I don't know, I'll probably get into one, but—"

He presses a hand to your shoulder, holding for a moment before moving for the door. He gently guides you away from the frame as he reaches to close it. You hear a tick, the lock. Nerves, arousal, fear, sadness, lust all rip through you and mix together. You're shaking and melting at the same time.

"It's alright, it's okay," he offers as he turns back to you, "I'm so sorry."

He hears your quiet sniffle and realizes tears must be coming down. He can sense that you're completely frozen. He steps even closer and wraps himself around you. A hug to thaw. You feel a hand on your neck, comforting, an arm around you, strong, his chest on yours and your face to his collar. You breathe him in and begin to release into it.

Fuck.

Years without this. Years without touch. Years without a hand to the arm or a playful shoulder nudge. You even skipped handshakes, too cordial. You would never have brought yourself to make contact. You didn't want to cross a boundary, you wanted to show respect, thought it should be on his terms. Or maybe you were just worried initiating a single touch would let him onto you, would make him wonder how you felt, pity you for your schoolyard crush and become cold. Now you're questioning whether that was the right choice. Fuck it all if this is how intoxicating his body feels.

With a final squeeze, he lets you go. He doesn't shift back or away from you, instead brings a hand to your chest. What is he doing? The flat of his hand is large, larger than yours. Looking down you see just how much of your chest it covers.

"Your heart is beating so fast," he almost whispers, bringing your attention to his voice, "your breathing is quick."

You bring your gaze up, it's been too long since you looked into his face. The confrontation makes you release and look down again.

"Am I making you nervous?" He gently suggests.

You nod, releasing a small "yes."

"What can I do?" You feel his body tense a little, likely in fear of making the wrong move. He begins to move away, but you bring your hand to his wrist, keeping his hand pressed to your heart.

The two of you spend a moment like this, close but far apart, both unsure. As the seconds pass you bring your attention back to your hand on his wrist and start to rub his skin with your thumb, holding him just a bit tighter. He shifts forward again, an inch closer to you, and you look up to examine his face. Another moment.

"Do you want me," he pauses before finishing and lowers his voice, "to touch you?"

You nod and lean into him a bit, earlier tears making it hard to speak again. He smiles softly at the silence.

"You have to say it, yes or no. I need to hear you tell me."

You swallow, trying to break through your nervousness and arousal, out of your body, to talk.

"I want you to touch me," you produce with some mustered up confidence. It's one of the only things you're truly certain of right now.

With your approval he moves both hands to grip your waist. The pressure draws a sigh from you, encouraging him to rub your sides with his thumbs. You're completely submerged in his presence. The small movements send electric waves to your core. The feeling is so intense, he might be all you'll ever need.

Then you realize what's really happening. You place your hands on his chest to balance the contact between you. He's touching you. He wants to touch you. He locked the door. There is something in this. There is something in him.

"You…do you like this?" you ask, needing now to hear it from him. He furrows his eyebrows just slightly, stressing your nerves again. What if he doesn't?

"Yes," he starts with a timidity you're not used to hearing in his voice, "I do. I want to…I've wanted to. It's not- I couldn't…touch you."

You can't help but smile. There's total peace, total clarity. He's nervous too. He wants you. He wants to touch you. Not only that, he has wanted to touch you all the while you wanted to touch him. Neither of you could do it, could break the boundary, cross the line, show yourselves. The intimacy is more intense in the conversation between you than in the physical connection. The potential energy in the room has reached its height now that you know he feels the same way about you. You know the drop is about to come. You're prepared now. You're confident.

"I've wanted you since we met." You admit softly.

He recites with sincerity, "I've wanted you since we met. It's only grown."

You step an inch toward him, closing what miniscule gap there was. The two of you join in a kiss, linking perfectly. A soft, warm, inspired kiss, mouths like puzzle pieces, instantly wanting more. He wraps an arm around your lower back to lift your waist to his before bringing a hand up to rest on your jaw. You're deepening the kiss together into a slow, sloppy mess, well-choreographed and intoxicating. It's all either of you need for a few minutes, quickening the pace and moving together, pushing and pulling, feeling each other, flowing with intuition.

You break from each other and he guides the two of you behind his desk. Resisting the magnetic force drawing you together, he slides the desk chair out and motions for you to sit. He kneels with a shining smile, using the arm of the chair to guide himself before you.

"Do you know what you want?" He asks, wanting to establish a serious level of understanding.

"I…don't know. I like what we have. I liked that," you grab his hand for more touch, "I like this. I want to be…us. It feels natural," the truth charms you as you speak it.

"It does. It feels natural. I love being with you, talking to you. The closer we got, the closer I wanted to be. I couldn't let myself reach out. I was afraid of doing something you didn't want, even if it seemed like you did want it."

Seeing him be so vulnerable, it's huge. You've always felt quicker to show that side of yourself. It's harder to draw out from him. He's the professional, after all. You want to show him he's safe, reassure him.

"I understand. I felt the same way. It's not something we could really talk about or…try. I couldn't touch your arm or reach for your hand like I would with any coffee date that's going well," that earned a chuckle from him, and subsequently you, before continuing, "I'm graduating in a few months. What if we saw each other off campus? I'm not taking any more of your classes this year."

"Yeah. I'd love that," he answers with a bittersweet smile, "but what do we do, now?"

His expression is disappointed despite the excitement, almost pained. It's hell to see a face that sad on him. You want to make it better for both of you, you know he'll only respond to your initiative. Maybe you should wait, give it a few days at least, but you can't. Not with him kneeling before you. You've been aching this whole time, trying to suppress the bubbling desire, but you can't. It doesn't have to be perfect, but you want to feel him. You just want to do it, save the slow and sensual for other times, create something out of the passion between you right now.

You slide the chair back out from under you and meet him on the floor. Wrapping a hand around his neck, you decide to pop the bubble.

"I want you, now."

With that you crash into each other, fiending for friction in a new kiss, pressing lips and bodies close together, both on your knees like sinners. You push against him but he wins out, pinning you to the floor. He begins to slide kisses along your jaw, down your neck, retiring at your collarbones. It almost tickles, his soft lips to such thin skin. As a hand of his feverishly traces your body, gripping around your side and rubbing down to your pelvis, you bring one of yours to the nape of his neck with the other around his body to hold him close. His thumb rubs the crease of your hip, the line that leads to your core, causing you to tug on his smooth brown locks.

"Matt…" you call softly.

"Mm?" he questions, lips still connected to your body.

"Come up here," you command, nearly breathless.

He complies, bringing his head up to meet your face. You lift yourself to connect and bring him down with you in another kiss, letting a hand search his trousers.

"Christ," he moans as you graze the strained fabric. His voice in such ecstasy is like music. No, something more than music. It's a heavenly sound that wraps you up in the same pleasure it expresses. You need to hear more.

"Need you, please," you whine, adding pressure to his crotch with your hand.

"Okay, fuck," he responds with a low, almost cracking voice.

The two of you begin to rise, him standing easily as you prop yourself up on your hands. "Matt," you call, prompting him to lean down, wrap an arm around your back, and lift you with surprising strength. You had noticed his build before, the toned shape of his arms through his shirts, but you had no idea he had such power. Realizing what that means for the moments to come has your legs fluttery and core aching.

"On the desk," you tell him.

His face lights with a ravenous grin. You sense an animalistic hunger in his voice despite the questioning tone when he asks if you're sure.

"Please," you add, and he reaches a hand out to find the desk before lifting you up onto it, again with a surprising, arousing ease. The second your ass reaches the wood you push off your bottoms and he helps pull them down and release them from you. Going in for another kiss he allows his hands to rub your thighs, inching closer and closer to your dripping center.

You bring him into a deep kiss, pulling on his lip as you part. You want him to know how starved you are for him, all of him. He begins to circle your folds, lavishly spreading your juices. As he circles your clit, you plead, out of breath. He gets the message and plunges in, working you with a rhythmic pace that draws blissful gasps unlike any you've made before. He uses his fingers masterfully, applying pressure where you need it and letting you bask in the pleasure for what feels like hours.

"Let me hear you," he moans into your ear, "tell me how it feels…being fucked by my fingers."

"Shit, Matt, so good…it feels so good," you answer him, reaching a pornographic tone.

It goes on, bringing you close but not there. You know what you need. You try to return your attention to the man in front of you through half-lidded eyes: you want him to feel the pleasure you do. You want to feel him fill you up.

"Need…" you gasp in reaction to his thrusting fingers and bring a hand to fumble with his belt, "more, please."

He grunts against your hand, losing reservation. You can tell he's about to snap, and you want nothing more than to see that side of him. To be on the receiving end of his crushing lust, to be desired and taken.

He digs his head into your shoulder as he urgently reaches for his belt, swatting your hands away. His belt is undone, his zip down, everything off in mere seconds. You can't do anything but sit there and watch as he moves frantically, clearly falling apart. You're drooling at the sight, your stomach turning with lust, your cunt throbbing uselessly against the cool surrounding air.

Taking his cock in his fist before you, he brings the fingers once inside you to your lips. He presses them into your willing mouth as he begins to pump himself. You swirl your tongue, taking in your own sweetness, and look down to see his tip already leaking precum. He removes his fingers, you brace against him, and he lifts and spreads your thighs. You whisper a sultry "fuck me, Matty" into his ear, and he finally snaps, pushing into you ruthlessly with a groan. You feel split in half, feeling his full length against your walls, filling every inch of you.

The thrusts are hard, fast, needy, sloppy. He's rutting into you and you're taking it perfectly. You can hear everything, so much you don't know what's what, whose moans are whose. The sounds engulf you, and you can only imagine what it's like for him. He's panting, grunting, breathing against your neck and jaw, attempting every so often to aim a kiss to your lips despite the crude pace of your bodies.

You lose a string of expletives in the ecstasy, responding to each thrust, "fuck, Matt, god…Matt."

He gives you praise between his grunts, moaning by your ear, "shit…you feel so good…you're so good…taking me…made for me…"

His movements lose even more rhythm, panting becoming strained as your own whines heighten. He's close. You reach for your wet, aching clit. Swirling effortlessly, you make hurried circles. The dual pleasure is beyond: you would see stars if the moaning man before you weren't a prettier sight.

"Fuck!" He shocks you with the exclamation, slowing his movements in frustration. Breathless, he struggles to blurt out "b-birth control?"

"Yes, Matty, please, keep going," you urge him to continue, assuaging his fear.

With that he slams into you hard, making you cry out against each thrust.

"I'm…" he fruitlessly tries to let the declaration escape.

"Me too, me too," you cry over him, digging your heels into his hips and working your clit fast.

Your orgasm hits. Warmth spreads from your core to your toes, ecstasy bursting through your body with such force you might break. In the delicious throes of your orgasm you feel Matt spill inside you, thrusting loosely through his own release. Hearing muted, you don't know what sounds either of you let loose at the height of pleasure, but you're sure you were practically screaming.

The two of you come down, panting and leaning against each other. Your heels keep him inside you, not ready to lose contact. Your exhales deepen and calm. Tucking in his chin, he presses a kiss to your neck before meeting your lips.

"Professor Mur-" you catch yourself, issuing the correction with some embarrassment, "Matt." You just want to feel his name in your mouth once more.

He smiles, but it quickly bursts into a grin, earning a satisfied giggle from you.

"That was…" he cracks through an uncontrollable smile.

"Amazing," you finish for him, adding, "thank you." You release him and hop down as he shifts back. He brings his hands to your waist once more, and you clutch his arms to rest in the warmth of his skin.

"Call me Matty again, please," he surprises you with the request, squeezing your waist.

"Thank you, Matty," you coo through a smile.

He nods softly. After a pause, he says, "you're going to be okay. You're going to be just fine. You'll be amazing at any program. It's you who makes it good, not the school."

You tear up quick at the consolation, overcome with adoration for the man before you. You slide your hand down his arm, pulling his fingers to your wet cheek and allowing him to swipe a streak with his thumb.

"Thank you, for everything, Matt."

"You're welcome. Thank you."

You give his hand a squeeze and release it so the two of you can re-dress yourselves.

"Would you like a ride home? I’ll call us a cab," he offers, grabbing his briefcase and replacing his glasses.

"That would be wonderful," you answer, buttoning your pants.

Matt moves forward and you approach him, stopping him with a hand to his chest. He leans down and meets your lips with his, connecting deeply like you both need it more than air. You part slowly and bring your lips to his ear.

"You're still dripping into my panties, Professor Murdock," you whisper, grasping onto the fleeting sense of lust.

Matt brings a free hand to grab your ass, replying, "would you like a ride to my home?"

"Yes, please, Matty!" You return with a playful cheekiness, as if all he offered were a homemade sweet or extra credit opportunity.

He snorts at your quip, muttering "you're too sharp. Let's go."

933 notes · View notes

xsapphirescrollsx · 9 months

Text

Mesquite Grove pt 2

Written Oct 25 2020

Dark! Syverson x Black Reader x Dark! Geralt Also this is post is pic heavy. I modeled the cabin in this story of off Sky Notch. I hope it’s not to much lol and that you enjoy it. Thanks for reading and reblogging!

She had offered an exchange.

The writhing twisted thing on the ground, whipped its long slimy arm along the bog’s black moistened soil. It bared its sharp teeth before bellowing a sorrowful moan.

Geralt stared down at what used to be a beautiful woman. With her once melodic voice she had promised youth, riches beyond measure, and power - if he would let her live.

Allow her to continue her own reign of terror over the small but humble village. She had brought strife, she carried sickness into their homes, disturbed their spirits.

Geralt wasn’t a fool. Of course he had considered her offer, but knew it was nothing more than conjured filaments of promises. It would have only been real as long as she lived.

What are a handful of crowns in exchange to leaving innocent people to harm?

Though he was no saint. It took sleeping with the village’s leader’s prettiest daughter and taking half her dowry to gain his contract. One cannot ask if one is not willing to give.

And he delighted in the taking.

As in this moment, the black eyes matched his as he stared into the abysmal void that was quickly spreading down its body.

Geralt bared his own bright white teeth and plunged the sword further into the monster's rib cage, piercing its heart and impaling the dirt below. Green ooze bubbled out of the wound. The moan gurgled into a desperate scream, echoing throughout the forest, shattering the peace surrounding it.

The moment Geralt withdrew his sword the ground beneath him shook. Around him, wind began to whip and the wispy clouds around him whirled above him. Thinking, calculating, Geralt wondered what new spell this was. Eyes now back to their golden color he stared at the swirling beginning to descend about him.

He tried to take a step, strained again to pull back from the gravity sucking him upward.

Geralt reached for the beast at the same time his feet left the ground. Out of time the rotten skin slipped through his fingers, the whirlwind carried him up and up.

The forest chattered once more. The creature laid there dead as Geralt had planned. But there was no Geralt here, or sword.

The moon hung behind a clear pane of glass, in the room you shared with Sy. Near the bed, where you laid, within her own wooden bassinet, the soft breathing of an infant soothed some of your worries. Pregnancy had looked great on you. Actually, you had never felt better and almost disturbingly so. It was September now, a month passed giving after a near painless birth to Astrid.

The little darling, Sy’s heir and your delight, and your reason for sleepless nights. Not because she required taking care of, that came easy enough, but your system had changed. You had little sickness throughout the pregnancy, energy boundless in a way you longed for the days where you could sleep a full night.

This was one of those nights. Sleepless wasn’t the word for it. You flipped on your side and stared out of the window. The advent of fall had begun revealing a clear cool night sky with stars dotting above the tops of the pecan tree basking in the white light of the moon. You heavily sighed and rolled on to your back. It was ill advised by the old matrons that new mothers were allowed to roam the woods like their other halves. So you were laying on the large, billowy bed, muscles twitching to wander, heart waiting for the moment your bare feet could hit the ground.

You stared at the wood grain above the bed and listened to the dark, imprinted the sound of Astrid’s breathing to your memory, and beyond the window pane howls - distant, calling to the night, did little to lull you to sleep. Your secret weapon to combat restlessness was to wiggle your foot. Quick short bursts of movement rocked you gently. Your eyes slowly blinked followed by a deep yawn and you shut them completely. The things to do in the morning began to drift less in your thoughts and it became more important to cave into the sinking sensation of sleep. You attempted to blink again, though did not.

Your foot stopped moving.

The dream began with feet, steadily walking through overgrown grass, stopping at first and then started again. Night rounded around the image, the skin was coated in black smudges, blood, the hem of a dark dress dragged and smeared it around the calves. You could smell the iron in the air along with rot, not animal death, but that of felled trees with fungus aiding in its decay. A woman, she began to run as the vision pulled back and revealed that within her arms a bundled lay there. No bigger than Astrid, could have been Astrid the love you felt was as strong as that for Astrid.

But it wasn’t, this woman was afraid of losing this bundle. Though not to death, but to forces beyond her control, so she ran.

The dream shifted to fog, no footsteps to be heard. Made of air and a moist breeze they walked out from the trees and surrounded the woman. The bundle lifted from her arms despite her attempts to hold on, what was soft fabric became translucent just as the beings. Her scream scratched the inside of your ears, the wail turned yelling, her mouth was moving but the voices from it did not match. Your body began to shake, the scene rattled too.

“Wake up, Miss! - Oh, old God! Please wake up!” the voice said.

Your eyes peeled open to Peach’s deeply wrinkled face. Worried thin lips were drawn into a straight line. “Miss!”

Your back snapped up straight, head turning towards the bassinet your eyes looked over Astrid. Peach held your shoulders, “She’s okay. But you have to come down--”

You pulled her worn hands from your body and held them within your own. “What’s wrong?”

And then you felt it, a worry, deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Is it Sloan?”

Peach suddenly blubbered, you had never seen her in such a state. The aged woman was tough, and her tears had you climbing out of bed faster than what she could answer.

You stood above Astrid’s bed, touching her belly you turned back toward Peach’s hunched over figure as she wiped at her lined skin.

“I knew it would happen again..god damn--I told Alpha it could happen again.” she mumbled.

Dottie, with her curly hair pulled up tight in a high bun and tugging on old boots, rushed in. “I got Astrid.” she said hurriedly.

Dottie’s face was lowered, her eyes staring down at Astrid. She sighed, that was the moment you noticed a subtle lemon light and then she looked back at you. Behind her, beyond the window the sky whirled with clouds. Some deep yellow, others blue, circled and churned. You moved closer to the bassinet, still staring at the sky when Dottie too turned around, Peach gasped behind you. In the hustle you had not looked at the window, had it been doing this the whole time?

Clattering from down below, near the stone den, loud voices shouted, some hollered for help. Your stomach dropped more. Dottie shot out and grabbed your wrist. “Go.” she said quietly.

You walked past Peach, to the end of the bed, who was still staring at the window with her hands covering her mouth. Grabbing the thick navy robe you turned around back toward Astrid’s bassinet, Dottie was there, her face toward your sleeping baby. You threw it on as she waved for you to go.

It must have been later than you realized, the second floor was devoid of the usual lit sconces, instead the fiery light from below coxed up and gave you warm light to guide you down the stairs. The row of balcony doors came in to few as you quickly descended, the yelling had died down in its place hushed tones followed murmuring.

Eyes wide you hit the bottom of the wooden stairs and turned toward the large space with the stone monument. Women were coming in from across the other rooms with clothes in their arms. You recognized the usual pack, Tator, shorter than Sy preferred tattered jeans dragged across the floor as he paced. Macon, naked, was squatted down near a figure laying flat near the stone of the large statue. Jimbo, he was shirtless as he stretched the waist of the sweats around his waist stood up erect, his normally jovial face was straight and concerned.

You rushed forward, their eyes turned to you and you ignored their bareness as you searched for Sy. They parted for you until his naked back could be seen, “Sy?”

An older woman handed him a shirt, he turned toward you and grabbed your face. “‘You okay?” he asked.

Before you could answer, you moved to this side, your eyes dropped to the figure laying on the floor.

“Ya’ll back up,” Sy called out in a hushed voice. He looked to you again waiting for you to answer his previous question.

But you couldn’t take your eyes off the man on the floor. Sy nudged your cheek with the back of his hand, moist with sweat it was enough to draw your eyes back to him. “I’m fine, so is Astrid.” you whispered, and then pointed down at the man. “Who is that?”

“He looks-” said Jimbo, but stopped.

Peach had wiggled through the men across from you and Sy. Her blue eyes stayed on the man.

“We shifted on the other side of the property, so we were running,” began Sy, as any mumbling died away. “I scraped my leg near the old pyre. I ain’t ever seen anything like it.” His voice strained as he tried to stay calm while speaking. “What I was lookin’ at split and blurred. There was flashing lights in the sky, these clouds circled us and this asshole popped out and landed right on top of me. And then other things, monsters, fell right along with him and disappeared in the woods.”

Both you and Peach met near the side of this man. His shirt was near new, though unique and more like a tunic than a cotton tee. And his boots were good, strange though. “There was a high pitched noise, it sounded like a bomb went off in my head.” continued Sy.

You knelt down at his side, staring at the strands of dirty silver hair. “It reminded me of war.”

Flicking down further down this man’s neck, his pulse thudded quickly underneath pale skin, around the bottom half on his chest and shirt, a medallion on a silver chain. You reached out for it, slowly at first unsure at why you were doing so, but you did it anyway. You held it, still warm from his body and swiped a thumb over the raised décor. “It’s a wolf..” you said softly.

More than that, it matched the same motif and style of that within the crest of the Syverson heirlooms you had seen so many times.

“Looks like what is on the wall in the dining room.”

“I never thought I would see the day…” said Peach.

Sy moved closer, though still standing, at your side. “What’s going on, who is this?”

Your eyes flew back up to the man’s face. Even in his sleep, silver brows seemed to glower in his rest. A familiar profile stuck out to you, it was the same as Sy’s face, same shape of lips, the clef in his chin.

“He looks like you Sloan.” you said, still holding the medallion.

And it happened fast. Peach gasped first before you realized the man’s eyes opened, yellow and pointed in your direction. He snatched your hand within his and sat up, staring down at you. Crushing your fingers around the metal, the man growled before suddenly blinking slowly. Through his nose, he breathed in deep. “You smell…like flowers...dizzy..” his lips barely moved, your eyes met his as he leaned in closer. He continued to do so, his eyes slowly shut, his hand around yours dropped as Sy stepped in time to push him off you.

The man crumbled down to his side while Sy helped you stand. “Who is his?” he was looking down at the man, brows drawn together before he stared at Peach.

Teary eyes were still on the silver haired man. Peach, sighed, mumbled something under her breath before she sighed heavily.

“He’s..” she turned her eyes up to you and then to Sy. “I didn’t think we would ever see him again. Alpha, this man..” she looked back down at him, her hands seeming wanting to reach out to stroke his hair but did not. “This boy is your brother.” she finally said. “Your twin.”

Members of the pack lifted the man and placed him into a bed on the second floor of the cabin. The women had undressed him, mended his scrapes and scratches as he remained unconscious. It was now late morning, daybreak had cast light into the room catching his white hair. You stood at the doorway, observing Peach check his pulse.

“He’s still breathing, seems to be sleeping.” she said to Sy.

Your eyes fell to the man. Something solid settled in your chest when you gazed at him. Akin to how you felt for Sy, but different because while you had no idea who he was, you yearned.

“How is that man your brother?”

The sound of your voice breaking the silence had Sy turning toward you. The disappointment in his express was palpable. His eyes rolled to Peach. “‘Feel like I’ve been lied to my whole life.”

“He wasn’t ‘pose to come back! No lie can be undone if there’s no proof Alpha!”

Sy stepped toward the man, pointed, “He’s right there woman! A whole lie laying in my house!”

“Sloan.”

Olive came in, a large book cradled in her arms, “This was from the old times, before there was a here and our people came to live here.” Sy made to move toward her but stopped when she spoke again, “Your mama made me promise. Omega’s trust is binding.”

She handed the book to you. “In there is about you too.” she said, looking from the thick embossed leather to you.

“What about me Olive?”

“A woman unknown. A stranger no more. Alone in the world, shiftless but finds their grounding.”

You squinted at her. “That could be anybody.”

“--catches the eye of the Alphas.” Olive continued.

Sy interrupts with what you did not catch. “Alphas?”

“First Omega with two mates.”

You blinked, and then squeezed the bridge of your nose while struggling to understand.

“You were destined to be here. The world, gods, -- you were supposed to always be here.” said Olive. “I just..never considered that this prophecy would happen in my time.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t of lied-” Sy growled.

“I had no choice. I was bound by your mother’s word. And her actions were bonded by blood. No way around that, believe me I tried. Your father was missing. And, damnit, your mother knew not to ask the fog for help. She had no idea they would take her son in exchange...” said Olive.

Peach grumbled under her breath. She shuffled toward the end of the bed all the while staring sorrowfully at Sy. “Alpha, this man is your brother.”

“I don’t even know his name.”

“Geralt Syverson. In that book there-” Peach stuck a knobby knuckled finger toward the thick tome. “Says right in there, that man’s name is Geralt.”

Olive sniffed the air for a moment and glanced back at you.

“The rut is tonight.” she said, still staring at you. “Whatever it is you need to think about Alpha, you best do it quickly.” She turned her eyes back to him. “Because this is happening. Destiny is willing it.”

“I don’t give a damn about destiny-”

“I think you will find it is hardly worth out running.” the man mumbled from the bed. “Believe me I’ve tried.”

“Where am I?” he said while glancing out the window. Geralt sat up, moaned deeply and held his head before shifting his eyes up to the man who mirrored his likeness. “And I need a bath.”

You stood tense outside the kitchen door. Back so tight, it was fit to snap but you pivoted from ball to heel, rested the back of your head against the grain. This man’s voice settles in the knot between your shoulder blades. It struck you even deeper in your gut, your soul, whatever that warm feeling that sat in the middle of your chest.

You know more than not, that the reason is something more than soulmates, and connections. You can smell it from here, him, just as you suspected he could sniff you out too. It was raw in your nose, primal, and instinctual.

And you were grateful that the occasional passerby did not stop. Like you, they too avoided the kitchen while this visitor ate.

“Is she yours?” asked Geralt.

Without a pause, “Yes.”

“So she follows you everywhere you go?” he asked. “Why is she standing out there?”

Sy called your name, slowly you rolled on your arm toward the entry. The moment his yellow eyes landed on yours longing unfolded within you.

“I find myself, once again, in a strange land.” he said lightly. Geralt chewed off a bite of toast and gestured toward Sy. “And this man says he is my brother. However, I believe I am much better looking. What do you say?” he said as he swallowed the mouthful.

Sy sat in the chair sideways, with his large legs splayed, he hunched over with his fist flat at the knuckles and pressed into his thigh. He turned his head to you, utterly gentle, soft even to Geralt’s gaze he gave you a half grin.

“Why are you here?” You asked.

Walking over to Sy, you kept watching Geralt the same as his eyes stayed on you. His chewing paused when you grew close, his eyes fell to the arm Sy wrapped around behind your hips before looking you in the eyes.

“I have no idea.” said Geralt, and turned back to his plate.

Slowly his gaze moved from the pile of eggs to the book between him and Sy. He picked up the bottle of beer, chugged it while still staring at the words on the pages. Such an odd man, you observed, since waking he even walked around with a sword strapped to his back. Like now, his top half curved over his plate, those strange eyes shifting -- taking in his surroundings without looking too long.

“But I overheard something about a rut?” He said to Sy. “What are you some sort of animal? A pack of mutant dogs?” he chuckled.

Sy didn’t join in his amusement.

“Werewolves.”

Sy jerked his chin, cut his eyes down to the medallion around Geralt’s neck. And casually, glanced back at that symbol on the ancient page.

“That’s the mark of my family. Our inheritance.”

Geralt put down his beer and leaned back in the wooden chair stiffly.

He rolled his jaw, flicked his tongue between his back teeth and looked to you first. “I’m over a hundred years old.” he said, and then stared at Sy. “Either this is some sort of time dream, or I’m your ancestor. This place doesn’t look like the Continent. Lacks greater magic, but this medallion - it’s been gently vibrating since I’ve arrived.”

“It warns me of magic and danger,” he said. “It’s no family heirloom. It was given to me once I completed my trails.”

It was absurd to think of movies or the vast stories of time travel, but it was all you had.

“So what if you were taken there as an infant.” You looked to Sy. “Like Olive said.”

“And time moves differently in this place you grew up in.” Geralt stared up at you, listening.

“Wouldn’t that account for something? You’re talking about all this magic like it’s true. That’s not how it is here. And only recently have I even considered anything like it.”

You continued to stare back at his unwavering glare. “Don’t you feel different?”

A long silence followed. Sy caught you staring, the heaviness of his grip on your hip pulled you to stare back at your mate. He was still considering Geralt, the man continued to look at you until he spoke.

“He does. And by the end of the night I’m sure you’ll understand why...brother.”

The title brought Geralt’s focus back to Sy. “Odder things have happened in my long life. What’s one more?”

They, the pack, took this new/old comer in stride. Stranger than his sudden appearance was how they welcomed him back into the fold of their lives. Twelve hours since he arrived and Peach was here in front of you talking about him like he had always been.

Her eyes burst with delight as she spoke about him as a baby. How good he was, that he cried very little, and always needed cuddling.

Peach was covered in dark soil. From the creases around her knuckles to the edge of her temple. The old woman cut herbs down to the root as she spoke.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

You blinked a few times, coming back to the moment. You nodded.

Peach threw the last bunch of tarragon in her basket and stood up slowly. “I think your baked chicken will go good with that.”

Peach huffed, shook her head and looked to you exasperated. “That’s not what I was talking about. Don’t be coy. The rut.”

“You think Sy is really going to allow a stranger-”

“It’s not about what he will allow. It’s a bond with the land that was paid in blood before you even knew we existed. It is what it is.”

You laid Astrid down back in the bassinet. Ready for tonight's pack dinner you walked from the room you shared with Sy. You peaked back through the door at the young woman you had left your child in care of.

She sat in the chair near, cracked open her book and smiled back at you.

You buried the anxiety with a tight nod back. Already the house buzzed with high spirits, for the arrival, and for the eve of their time of bonding. The closer you came to the dining hall the louder it was and thicker the fragrance.

The two of them, different but the same, had the effect within you.

Entering the voices quieted. Some familiar faces looked at you, smiled, nodded as you passed down the center of the long tables toward the one sitting long ways. Your space was empty, a vast void between Sy and Geralt.

They stared at you. But your eyes fell to Sy only.

And so you sat between the two big men. Something about them, their demeanor toward one another -- something had changed. And it poured over during dinner. They no longer seemed like two strangers.

Geralt leaned back on his right hand, just behind you and whispered in your ear. “I hear we have some catching up to do.”

Sy glanced at you from the side of his eye before answering a member of his pack from across the tables.

And you said nothing in return, and you did not look at him either. You picked at the potato salad on the plate before you and forced yourself to listen to Sy’s words.

“I’ll be gentle.” Geralt whispered again, this time close enough to feel his breath brush against your ear. “Maybe...” he chuckled softly. “..if you’re good.”

You stared at Geralt from your place at the front of the pack on the balcony. He stood there observing the pack members, shoulders straight, chin level, and those yellow eyes stopping and studying ever so often. The weather fell, cold wind swept through the crowd of people staring at their Alpha. If not for the occasional blinks, and subtle tilt to his head, you would have thought Geralt was made of stone as Sy spoke.

“These are peculiar times,” said Sy, shifting his head and eyes from you to Geralt on his left. “But we aren’t strangers to oddities as such. As you all have heard, this man here is my brother.”

Indistinct mumbles descended through the fifteen or twenty men and a few women standing in front of you, Sy, and Geralt.

Sy held up his for silence. “Geralt Syverson was a child of bond made in blood. Our mother’s sorrow over the loss of our father was paid by Geralt’s exchange. It carried him off beyond the world we see now.”

Sy looked over at Geralt, who cut his eyes to him. “Carried him to distant lands where he was taken in by a woman. From what I gather his life has been hard.”

Your mate turned his focus back to the pack. “He was..changed by the people of the land.”

“Why is he back?” called a voice. “Why now?” said another.

Sy turned his head to the right and looked at you for a moment and then addressed the crowd. “The dark soul about a year back did it. The last one killed before that, was the night payment was due and my brother was taken.”

“Is he one of us?” asked a tall man, his black eyes swept from Geralt’s boots to silver hair before looking at Sy.

“‘Can’t be a Prime. There’s never been two.” he added.

Sy stared after the pack member, you could see it in his brows as he carefully considered his next words.

“There is now.”

The crowd mumbled some more, whispers, disgruntled and blameful rolled over them once again.

“There’s more on this land than we know.” Sy said loudly over them. “Shit we never seen is going on in the woods and my brother knows about it.”

Sy glanced over at Geralt who was already staring at him. “He will help. This is home now.”

Geralt nodded. “I kill monsters.”

His eyes drifted from Sy to you. “And as far as this being my home, it remains to be seen.”

“You will.” Sy clapped his big hand over Geralt’s leather clad shoulder and squeezed. “The air is changin’, you feel it?”

And as if speaking it into existence the wind shifted around them. The Alpha’s restless stances moved with one another feeling the resonance of their Alpha Prime’s words.

Geralt said nothing at first, his eyes traced back to the men. In the light of the balcony his skin shone slick with sweat. Sy grinned.

“Alright, ya’ll - meet up in a few hours.”

Sy dropped his hand, the other messaged your back and wrapped around you to pull you forward through the crowd along with Geralt.

“First order down this path is claiming.” said Sy quietly while walking through the row of doors back into the house. “They have it easier, like during the change-- like me because we have mates.”

Your stomach dropped.

Still sweating and rather perturbed Geralt grunted out unamused, “I glanced through the book Syverson.”

“Sy?” you rounded on him taking a few steps up the stairs. “This is ridiculous. I’m not-”

Sy suddenly took to the stairs, growling in his throat forcing whatever retort back down in your throat. He grabbed your arm and began to walk you up the stairs.

“Come with me brother,” called Sy over his shoulder. And when you glanced back at the silver haired man. He was staring at you, his breaths heavy and you recognized he could smell you just as you could scent him out.

You pulled against Sy, but it didn’t matter. He dragged you into their room. Gone was the bassinet, the child you shared with Sy and the room was lit by candle light and the night sky filtering through the large windows.

Geralt followed and closed the door behind him.

“Try it,” said Sy. And he repeated the growl in this throat. “Think of subduing without touching.” he added, and twisted you around to face Geralt.

“Don’t-” you said. “I never agreed to this. I-”

Geralt stepped forward, the rumble in his throat began low and hit you harder than Sy. A deep jolt in your pelvis and wetness seeped from between your folds. The sound of his call was raw, unwavering and only grew the longer he stared into your eyes.

“A curious creature,” his hand caressed your cheek, smearing the tear into your skin. “So lovely.”

Sy released you and stepped to the side. “She was made for us. In every way possible, brother.”

Geralt hummed, blinked slowly as your compliance melted into his psyche. He had been to the edges of the Continent, seen worlds broad and miniscule. But this, the sensation to ravish and take had never been stronger than in this moment. The urge to...plant, sow his legacy felt primal and ancient.

Sy breathed in deep, smelling the fragrance of your heat fill the room. “She’ll fight. But it only makes it sweeter.”

You fought against the rush. “You--don’t know what you're talking about Sy..please..” you strained to look away from Geralt.

“You know what the rut does to me baby..” whispered Sy. “You belong to us now.”

Sy walked from the room, leaving you to Geralt. And with him any hope that the man you loved, wouldn’t do this. But the moment the thick wooden door clicked shut Geralt tore at your t-shirt, grabbed the back of your hair and pulled you against his chest.

His lips hovered over yours. Humming the Alpha chant he kept you there staring into your eyes.

“I have so much power over you.” his deep voice mollified your senses. “It was confusing at first, this world, how it worked. But I feel the desperate pull to be inside you, entirely. And I fear.”

Throat dry, you struggled to speak against the cloudy haze of hormones. “--fear?”

“That I wouldn’t be able to stop myself..” Geralt pressed his lips on top of yours. He split them with his tongue, plunging and licking your teeth and tongue.

You pushed against him, you tried to unglue yourself from the nature blossoming inside. It wasn’t nearly enough.

“The more you resist,” he groaned and kissed around your mouth slowly making his way back to your mouth. “The worse it is..”

Geralt fumbled with his armor, shedding it fast when he released you to sway where you stood. And before you knew it, his naked form stood in front of you, the muscles with dark swirls of hair coating his chest and down a wide trail over his abdomen toward his chubby, thick cock.

You lunged to the left, but you were too overcome by the nature of your place in this culture. Geralt grabbed you about the chest and waist and walked you toward the bed. Shaking your head, crying was met with his Alpha hum.

He tossed you on the bed back first, stripped your pants away and pulled off what was left of the tattered shirt. Head half empty, the other overpowered by lust, beckoned him to fulfil his duty.

And as he pounced on top, before you could stop yourself, your fingers traced over the mounds of his pecks, around his shoulders and pulled him toward you.

Geralt’s tight grin, his yellow eyes delighted in your sudden offering. But he grabbed your wrists anyway, held you down below him. And without much care, squeezed his way past your slippery folds.

His mass pounded your body into the bed. His slick, porcelain skin slides against the tops of your nipples, you swear the briny dripping from him is your ultimate undoing. He takes from you, but his thrust gives in its own ritualic way. There was no escaping the act of completion, and as the swollen feeling in your clit cascaded into bone aching bliss you fell into his command. Your Alpha Prime, the second man in your life.

He flipped you over, ass up and fell back into line with his rhythmic thrusting. It didn’t matter that he spread you further, had a handful of your face in his hand pressed against his jaw. He powered away inside of you, dropped his lips along your neck. And with his other hand, he held your head down, licked the stretch of moist skin there slowly.

“I claim you,” Geralt whispered and buried his cock deep. His teeth nipped the skin of your neck, your ass arched more, craving the pain of his depth. And his bite pierced at the same time he spilled inside of you. Your whimpering, the small, surrendering mewl flared his nostrils as he bit down harder.

The door slammed open smacking the wall, your eyes rolled in your skull before falling on the shape of Sy. He walked in and shoved it back shut.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he groaned and began to peel off his clothes. “I can smell her down to the kitchen…”

Geralt tried to move inside of you. Another round of simpering whines called from your mouth. Sy rushed to the side of the bed where your head rested.

“Don’t,” Sy warned. “You’ll hurt her.” he said softly while stroking your hair.

“Lay there with her, hold her. She’ll bond with you until you can pull out again.” he instructed.

Sy sat on the floor, he laid his head not too far away from your own as Geralt wrapped his arms around your back to your chest. You stared back at him as he gazed at you achieving peace.

“Good girl.” he whispered.

Geralt turned his head back into your neck, humming low, and sniffing your hairline slowly it stimulated the vibration of love deep inside of you. The rush spread.

“Now you have two of us.” said Geralt.

“It’ll be my turn next,” added Sy. “We’ll take care of you, baby.”

The Next Morning

The brothers ran together last night. Their howls carried through the room and even invaded your sleep. Dreams of a black wolf, a white wolf, fog, wilderness kept you stuck to the bed most of the early morning.

The night sitter brought Astrid to the room as the sun rose. And you spent time with your daughter despite the ache in your body. When the voices in the cabin began to grow louder you knew they were home again.

You wondered if it was easier for Geralt, the change that night. Not that you saw it in person. But you couldn’t help but feel that your new mate somehow deserved a painless shift.

And when the sitter came bounding back in off the energy surging through the home. She scooped up Astrid.

“The Alpha Prime’s are asking about.” her bubbly voice softly rang.

Even if you did feel for Geralt, the night before was remembered. “I don’t care.” you said and got up from the bed.

“I’ll have some coffee up here.” you added and headed toward the bathroom.

You ignored the smell of food wafting into the bedroom after the shower. Your eyes landed on a tray on the end of the bed. A platter of toast, fruit and thermos of coffee waited for you.

And so did two tall, disgruntled men.

“Why didn’t you come down?” asked Sy, pushing away from the closed door.

Geralt slowly walked toward the bed, but turned his back to you and Sy by looking out the window.

You glared at Sy. “You--neither of you gets to decide -”

“Ah but we do.” Geralt butted in, hands clasped behind him he turned from the window. “The moment you felt me enter your slippery cunt you belonged to the both of us.”

You look to Sy for support but he just stared back.

“From what I’ve learned you have no choice but to submit.” Geralt glanced across the room for affirmation, Sy simply nodded. “Therefore, you will learn to love it.”

You started to snap back, yell, spit anything but a low growl began from Geralt that stopped you in your tracks. “I don’t want to hurt my...mate.”

Geralt and Sy walked toward you, the silver haired at the left, the bushy faced man at the right. Sy put his hands on his hips and grinned kindly back at you.

“We want you happy, dove.” Geralt carcasses your face, he dipped in and began to sniff your cheek, down your neck. “God, do you smell that?” he asked Sy.

Sy stepped over, you turned your watery eyes to him. He was softer with his eyes, gazing at you with love. Geralt held the back of your head allowing Sy to lean in toward the pulse point on your neck and ran his nose across your skin.

“It’s sweet. Like honey, or some wild flower but deeper, yes?” he asked Sy.

He knew that smell alright, the deep resonant fragrance coated the back of this throat. It flipped a switch in the back of his mind as he breathed in deep. He wouldn’t have to mate to procreate, not for a few months.

“She’s pregnant. That’s the smell..and it smells like she has both of us in there.”

....to be continued...

#Black reader #black female reader #x black!reader #dark!syverson #dark!geralt #dark!syverson x black reader #dark!geralt x black reader

73 notes · View notes