#and instead traded it with lives where were supposed to like staring at a stranger holding their phone too close to their face | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jungshookz · 3 years

Note

cee cee i have an idea!!! what about Cool and Cultured bookshop owner! tae and dorky y/n walking past the store everyday and one day goes in and strikes a conversation about a fancy book like catcher in the rye and talks about the symbolism of rye in the book and tae's like :0 das wildly inaccurate but you're kinda cute so here's my number so we can talk more about rye and y/ns like :0

➺ pairing; kim taehyung x reader

➺ genre; wowowow handsome & well-read bookkeeper!taehyung, fluff!!!! the kind of fluff that makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket sipping on a mug of hot chocolate on a nice autumn’s day when the leaves are just starting to turn red and orange, y/n’s kind of a dummy but in a very loveable kind of way, featuring namjoon the (sort of) wingman

➺ wordcount; 6.2k

➺ summary; the catcher in the rye? oh, sure - of course you know that book! it’s about catching loaves of bread, right?

➺ what to expect; “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

➺ note; our (first??) drabble of the month as voted by you guys! i finished writing this the day after it was decided that bookkeeper!tae was the winner because that’s how excited i was about him >:-) enjoy!

»»————-　➴　————-««

“and… open your eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air excitedly as namjoon takes his hands away from his eyes

he blinks owlishly before looking up and-

“you brought me to a bookstore!” he gasps, a smile immediately spreading over his features as he claps his hands together, “oh, this is great! usually, you bring me to those awful rock-climbing places, or that horribly violent paintball gun place, and even when you brought me to the movie theatre the tickets were for that gory r-rated horror movie-”

“okay, let’s not get carried away-” you hold a finger out to shut namjoon up before he can list out moRe reasons as to why you seem more like you hate him instead of love him, “the point is: this time, i brought you to a bookstore!” you smile proudly before crossing your arms

not to toot your own horn or anything but you did a pretty good job with this surprise

you even did tons of research to find the best bookstores in the city!!

which was difficult because namjoon’s been to like.,,. EVERY bookstore in the city

but not this one!

to be fair, it was a long forty-five minute car ride to get here so you understand why he’s never come out here himself

“…this isn’t like… a weird bookstore or anything, right?” namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before taking a step back and looking up at the name of the store again

the secret garden

oh!!!!

like the book!!!!

how clever :D

“what do you mean?” you frown, placing your hands on your hips before glancing back up at the name as well

the secret garden

kind of a lame name for a bookstore

“like a…” namjoon trails off before clearing his throat, “you know, like a bookstore that’s actually a sex dungeon or something like that-”

“ew!” you immediately make a face before shaking your head quickly, “wha- why would you even say that?!”

“well, i don’t know!” namjoon holds his hands up in defence, “i’ve never been to this bookstore before-!”

“this is a regular ol’ bookstore, joon. i promise!” you clap your hands on his shoulders before giving him a squeeze, “just the way you like it! old, dusty, and full of nothing but boring books.”

namjoon beams

that’s exactly what he likes to hear

see, today is your seven year friendaversary with namjoon

you guys have known each other since middle school and noW the two of you are in your final year of university which is crazy

and so, for the past seven years, you’ve gone out on this day to celebrate your beautiful friendship because honestly you’ll take whatever excuse to go to a restaurant to try to get free dessert (“yeah, we’re celebrating our anniversary! so, i’ll take three orders of your chocolate lava cake-”)

you guys usually take turns where one year one of you will plan an entire day of fun activities for the other, and then the next year, the other person will do it because that seems like a relatively fair system

last year, namjoon took you to this cute pottery place and you ended up making these adorable matching friendship mugs

they’re both a little lopsided but that’s just part of their charm!!

namjoon painted his a beige-brown and you painted yours a BRIGHT purple and then you traded mugs (so that when he comes over to your apartment, he has his mug, and when you go over to his apartment, you have your mug!)

he also insisted that you guys carve your guys’ initials on the bottom of yours and draw a heart around it which you thought was a little much but you are… very fond of namjoon so you’d jump off a cliff if he asked you to

admittedly, most of the things that you’ve planned during your years have been catered to your own personal desires so you’ve been a little unfair but namjoon’s always been too much of a sweetheart to say anything about it

and for the most part, he’s a pretty good sport even though it’s blatantly obvious that he’d rather chop a toe off than spend the afternoon doing your chosen activity

the last time it was your turn two years ago, you took him to a go-cart track and spent the entire two hours practically driving circles around him because he was driving like ten kilometres an hour

the only reason why he wasn’t driving like one is supposed to drive on a go-cart track (i.e. like a maniac) is because he was worried that if he went too fast he’d get a ticket or something

and kim namjoon does not get speeding tickets

not on the real road and most certainly not on a man-made road either!

for the record, he definitely didn’t appreciate you calling him a slowpoke and telling him to eat my dust, bitch! and he still brings it up from time to time whenever he wants to guilt you into doing something with him (“i’m not switching muffins with you. it’s not my fault you don’t like yours!” “…hey, remember that time you called me a slowpoke and told me to-” “take the muffin.”)

anyways

he’s glad that this is just a normal bookstore and that he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not one of your activities is going to end in him losing a limb for the first time

what a wonderful way to end the day!!

actually, you guys still have to grab dinner after this where you’ll try to squeeze as many free desserts out of the restaurant as possible as per usual so this is a wonderful way to almost end the day

the little bell hanging above the door chimes as the two of you step in and almost immediately you’re greeted with the warm smell of what you’re pretty sure is hot chocolate??

“i love this place already.” namjoon breathes out, his jaw dropping in awe, “i wanna live here!”

“okay, keep it in your pants-” the door starts to shut and you nudge namjoon forward to keep from getting your butt nipped by the door

you don’t even get a chance to say anything else before namjoon suddenly darts off

so much for keeping it in his pants

you pause when you get a good look at the place

huh

for some reason you feel like a lot of instagram pictures have been taken here

it’s obviously an antique place but it’s like one of those trendy antique places

a brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the (fake) candles casting a golden glow over the entire store

there’s a spiral staircase that curls up to the second floor

the walls are covered with floor to ceiling shelves stacked with, duh, books, but even for what you thought would just be a dusty old bookstore… it’s pretty nice in here!

there’s even an archway in the centre of the place that leads to what looks like a pretty cozy reading space for customers which is a nice touch

and there are people sipping on mugs of hot chocolate too!!!

you can’t help but wonder if you need to be reading a book in order to get a mug of cocoa

you like the hot chocolate part but you’re not as excited about the reading part

“y/n, come on!” you look over to see namjoon - who already has three books cradled in his arms - waving you over enthusiastically, “check it out! it’s a vintage boxed set of the chronicle of narnia series! and they’re leatherbound-“ he practically moans before nudging you towards it, “help me take it out?”

“narnia?” you snort, tilting your head so you can look at the titles pressed into the spine of the book, “isn’t narnia, like… for kids?”

the last time you read the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe was when you had to read it for a book report in like the fourth grade

you glance over your shoulder to look at namjoon who now has an unimpressed frown on his face

“what??”

“…you insult me.” he sniffles, “just help!”

you roll your eyes playfully before turning back to pull the thick set out of the shelf and-

“hello!”

“-!”

the sudden sound of a stranger’s voice nearly makes you drop the set but you manage to prop the edge of the box back up onto the shelf before it falls and breaks all the bones in your foot

you turn to look at whoever-

oh my

hello indeed

“welcome to the secret garden.” he smiles kindly, tilting his head at you, “did you need any help with that, miss?”

oh good god

his voice makes you feel like you’re wading through a river of warm caramel

and you’d happily let yourself drown in that river

two seconds go by where you don’t respond at all and instead you continue staring at mr. caramel with very obvious hubba-hubba eyes

“i think we’re good, thank you!” namjoon clears his throat, elbowing your back gently before offering a smile of his own

“oh, alright! well, my name’s taehyung,” taehyung reaches up to adjust his glasses, “please let me know if you need assistance of any kind - i’ll just be up at the front. if you’re just here to relax and read, i’d be happy to whip up two mugs of hot chocolate for the two of you!”

“awesome! thank you.” namjoon nods all while you continue smiling at taehyung dazedly

he waits until taehyung disappears before turning back and looking at you

“…what’s wrong with you?”

“i’m good, thank you…” you whisper your very delayed response and namjoon moves his head so that he’s blocking your view when you lean back a little to try to look at taehyung sitting behind the front counter, “holy moly. i’d let him explore my secret garden-”

“oh, now look who can’t keep it in their pants-“

“hey, you should look at this as a good thing!” you grunt as you adjust the hefty box in your arms, “now i’ll willingly drive you back here… whenever you want.”

namjoon’s eyes immediately light up

»»————-　➴　————-««

you and namjoon end up returning to the bookstore about two weeks later

last time, namjoon wanted to stay longer (and so did you, honestly) buT you were pretty close to losing your dinner reservations and you weren’t about to give up your free chocolate lava cake just to stare at the cute bookkeeper from afar like a creep

so you had to leave!

namjoon ended up leaving with the boxed set and a couple other books so suffice to say, he was pretty happy

and when you suggested visiting the bookstore again this week… well, namjoon had to jump on that opportunity, didn’t he??

you?? offering to take him to a bookstore?? again??

you’re obviously only using him as an excuse to go into the bookstore so you can spend hours watching taehyung like a weirdo but he’ll take it

namjoon hums happily as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate before licking a little bit of whipped cream off his top lip

he wonders if taehyung would be willing to share the recipe to it because this is honestly the best hot chocolate he’s ever had

namjoon looks up from his book when he hears you let out a sigh for the tenth time in the last two minutes

oh god

look at you!

“oh… and he’s good with kids, too?” you sigh blissfully as you prop your elbow up on the arm of the sofa chair before leaning your cheek against your fist

you watch fondly as taehyung gets down on one knee, holding two fists out for a little girl

she taps his right hand shyly before quickly wrapping her arms back around her mom’s leg, peeking at him from behind it shyly

taehyung flips his wrist around and uncurls his fingers to reveal a single caramel, his face lighting up briefly as she takes it from his open palm into her little hand

“i don’t know why you can’t just go up and talk to him-” namjoon snorts at how lovestruck you look before peering around the corner of the archway to look at taehyung too, “it’s not a big deal. he’s really nice!”

“i can’t just go up and talk to him. are you kidding me?” you frown, shaking your head, “what am i supposed to say??”

“tell him you need help finding a book!” namjoon states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world (because it is) before slapping the book on his lap shut, “just out of curiosity - what book would you ask him to help you find?”

you lean back against the sofa chair before twisting your lips in thought

book?

what book…

what was the last book you read…?

ooh!

“esio trot!” you perk up, namjoon’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion because he has no idea what just came out of your mouth-

“esio- oh my god, esio trot as in the roald dahl children’s novel??” namjoon frowns, “no! you can’t go up to taehyung and ask him to help you find esio friggin’ trot-”

“okay, you don’t see me making fun of you for buying what you bought last week, mr. chronicles of narnia-”

“you did make fun of me!” namjoon gawks, “in fact, you’re still making fun of me for it-” he waves his hand to cease the conversation, “listen to me. from the very few times that i’ve spoken to taehyung, it’s clear that he’s… cultured, you know?”

“cultured… like yogurt.” you joke, slapping your own knee gently, “get it?? because yogurt is cultured? cultured yogurt??”

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes

see?

this is exactly what he’s talking about

“…yes, y/n. i get it. anyways, as i was saying- taehyung is just very…” namjoon kisses his teeth as he tries to think of how to phrase his words, “…well-read… intelligent… scholarly… refined…”

you tilt your head in curiosity as namjoon continues listing out a bunch of snooty sounding adjectives

wait a minute

“are you-” you scoff, straightening up in your seat, “are you calling me dumb??”

hey!!

you’re not dumb!!!

it’s not like books are super complicated to figure out or anything

all you have to do is read what’s inside of it and you certainly know how to read!!!

and sure, sometimes you still don’t know if receive is spelt receive or recieve or if business is spelt buisness or biusness, but that doesn’t mean that you’re dumb!!

“no, no, i’m not calling you dumb!” namjoon shakes his head quickly, “i’m just saying that if you had a choice, you would choose a movie over a book-”

“well, yeah - obviously i would choose a movie over a book.” you snort, “why would i waste eight hours reading tiny little words on stiff white pages when i could be watching a movie that compresses the entire story in a convenient one hour and a half??”

“i’m your friend, and i don’t want to watch you make a fool of yourself!” namjoon argues, “because if you do, then you’ll be too embarrassed to ever come back here again, which means that i’ll never be able to come back here again-”

“what’s stopping you from coming here by yourself?”

“because every time i tell you that i’m going to the bookstore, you’re going to ask me a bunch of taehyung related questions when i get back-”

okay

that’s a fair point

that sounds like something you would do for sure

“alright, fine!” you huff before crossing your arms, “what book do you suggest i go up there and ask him to help me find?”

namjoon twists his lips in thought

hm…

“catch her in the eye!” you chirp, folding your hands behind you book as you smile brightly at taehyung

namjoon feels his own face flush at how confidently you just said that and he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaMING

he told you to ask taehyung to help you find the catcher in the rye

NOT CATCH HER IN THE EYE

“the catcher in the rye?” taehyung nods, “sure! of course i can help you find the catcher in the rye.” he returns a smile as he steps out from behind the counter, “follow me, please!”

you shoot namjoon a big thumbs up and a faT grin as you pass by the entrance of the archway and he gives you a weak one in return before turning back and slumping against the couch

oh boy

…he’s never going to come back to this beautiful bookstore, is he?

“you were here about two weeks ago, weren’t you?” taehyung asks as he looks over his shoulder, the two of you trotting up the spiral staircase, “with your… boyfriend, right? you guys bought the boxed narnia set.”

“hm? oh!” you let out a little laugh, “yes, that was us, but joon- namjoon’s just my friend. um, that day was actually our seven-year friendaversary and he’s a real dork for books so i thought it’d be nice to bring him here-”

it’s in that moment that you suddenly hear namjoon’s voice in your head reminding you that you’re supposed to act like yoU like reading too

“i mean-” you clear your throat, “i, too, really like books, so i- you know, it was a mutually pleasant experience for the both of us t-to be here-” you chuckle nervously

hopefully you were able to save your own ass there

that was a close call!!

you trail behind taehyung as the two of you weave in and out of the bookshelves

you didn’t get a chance to come up to the second floor last week

but it’s surprisingly nice up here!!

there’s a lone sofa chair in the corner with a little coffee table sitting next to it

very nice for customers who prefer to read alone

“ah, well, that’s very thoughtful of you!” taehyung nods before suddenly pausing, “i’m so sorry-” he spins around and you nearly bump into his chest but you manage to stop yourself just in time, “i just realised i never got your name.”

“y/n. i’m- i’m y/n.” you stick your hand out quickly for him to shake

you feel a little zap! travel from your fingertips to the rest of your body as soon as taehyung takes your hand in his

he gives you a gentle shake before squeezing your hand lightly and then letting go, “well, it’s very nice to meet you, y/n. now, give me a second to find the catcher in the rye for you…”

taehyung turns to thumb through the books on the shelf and you feel your heart flutter in your chest as how pretty he looks from the side

wowie

you can’t help but take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you continue to admire taehyung’s features from the soft swoosh of his hair to the rosy pink of his lips

how can one man be so pretty?

“ah- here we are!” taehyung pulls a book out of the shelf and you quickly snap yourself out of your daze, “the catcher in the rye… a novel by j.d. salinger.” he hands it to you and you take it before blinking down at the cover

…the catcher in the rye?

what happened to catch her in the eye???

“it’s a great book.” taehyung hums, “have you read it before?”

“oh, i… i have!” you scoff, making a face, “duh, of course i have. i mean, it’s… you know, it’s such a… um, a powerful novel…” you clear your throat before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “i mean, the last time i read it was actually in… high school… so… you know, i’ve forgotten most of the details but i figured it’d be nice to get a refresher, you know?”

(you never read this in high school.)

((you just made namjoon summarise the entire book to you in the form of a poorly drawn stickman comic and even then you still didn’t fully understand the story.))

“absolutely! there’s nothing wrong with revisiting old friend from the past,” taehyung chuckles lightly, “in fact, i was reading animal farm the other day- what kind of literature do you typically read?”

you press your lips together tightly

oh god

namjoon didn’t prepare you for additional questions

literature??

quick!

what kind of literature do you typically read??

…

tell him you read all kinds of literature!

that sounds like a legitimate answer, right?

“i... read… all-”

you’re cut off by the sound of a bell chiming from below and you let out a breath of relief when taehyung scurries past you to peer over the balcony

“i’ll be right there!” he holds a finger up at the customer waiting by the front counter before spinning around to face you again, “was there anything else you needed, y/n?”

“wha- i-” you stammer, unable to come up with a non-creepy reason to keep him up here with you, “no! no, this was-” you give the front cover a hearty slap, “this was all i needed-”

“perfect!” taehyung claps his hands together, “well, let me know. you know where i am!”

he disappears down the staircase before you even get a chance to thank him

the smell of his cologne lingers in the air as you make your way down the staircase and you can’t help but beat yourself up over how your interaction with taehyung went

it wasn’t a bad interaction or anything

in fact, you think you did a pretty good job at acting like a bookworm!!

it’s just that…

you don’t think it was a particularly memorable interaction for taehyung

that was just a typical customer interaction for him

you were supposed to charm him!!!

impress him!!

sweep him off his feet!!!

tickle his brain!!

“hey, buddy…” namjoon coos as you plop back down on the sofa chair, “how… did it go?”

he’s afraid to hear your answer because it certainly looks like it didn’t go super well

damnit

he knows this moment is about you but now he’s thinking about how he’ll probably never be able to taste this delicious hot chocolate ever again

“got the book.” you grumble, tossing it onto the coffee table before shaking your head, “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

“yeah, i… uh, i heard you.” namjoon nods understandingly, crossing one leg over the other before leaning back against the couch, “i don’t think he heard you say that, though! i mean, he knew what you were looking for right away.”

namjoon knows you well enough to see that you’re currently spiralling down a self-pity hole right now

oh boy

“hey, you know what’ll make you feel better?” he leans forward to give your knee a comforting squeeze

“what?”

“how about i buy this for you so you can read it and fully impress taehyung next time with your newfound knowledge-“ namjoon points to the book you’ve abandoned on the table, “and then we can go for chocolate lava cake!”

your eyes widen slightly

“free chocolate lava cake?”

“no, not free-“ namjoon snorts, getting up from the couch before reaching back to pick up his bag, “i mean, i’ll pay for it. my treat! so, yeah. i guess it’s kinda free for you.”

“that sounds nice!” your frown is almost instantaneously replaced by a grin, “if i get more free things from you just for being sad, i’m going to be sad more often-”

“what?? no! do not pretend to be sad just to get me to pay for things-”

taehyung glances over from the front counter when he hears a twinkly laugh and he can’t help but smile lightly at the sight of you giggling away in the sofa chair

your nose scrunches slightly as you let out a little snort and he presses his lips together to keep himself from beaming too wide

y/n, huh? cute.

»»————-　➴　————-««

(taehyung can’t stop thinking about you and your absurdly cute face.)

»»————-　➴　————-««

it’s another two weeks later that you come back to the secret garden - but this time, you come alone.

and to be honest, you… don’t know if this was a good idea or not

because joon was with you for the last two times and you were definitely using him as a security blanket so now you feel like you’re about to dive into the deep end of the pool without any floaties

you were going to ask if he wanted to come with you but you felt like this was something that you had to do alone

you swallow thickly as you tuck your car keys into your pocket

namjoon can’t be your bookworm wingman forever, right?

the store is almost suspiciously quiet as you step in, the little bell ringing above your head as per usual

your classes ended a little later today which is why you weren’t able to come in the afternoon

pluS you had to find a way to get namjoon to go home without you without raising any eyebrows so that sucked up a little more of your time

you were going to tell him that you were going to stay on campus to study at the library but even you couldn’t believe that

so you told him that you had a group project to work on which was why you couldn’t have dinner with him tonight!

you jump in surprise when the door suddenly slams shut behind you from the breeze

it’s a little chillier now that it’s november but it’s nice that you get to wear cozy cardigans and snuggly sweaters now

“i’ll be right there!”

you hear taehyung’s voice ring out from the second floor and you swallow your nerves as you stand up a little straighter

fake it till you make it, right?

i love books

i love books so much

i love books so much that i would fuck a book if i could!

...okay, maybe not that one.

you glance around the store - there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here

which makes sense because the sign says that the store closes at 7pm on weekdays and it’s…

6:50

wow

so you’RE the asshole who comes into the place ten minutes before closing time

good one!

“so sorry for the wait, i was just-” taehyung pauses on the steps, his face immediately lighting up when he sees you, “oh, y/n!”

“hi!” you chirp before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “sorry i came ten minutes before you’re supposed to close… i wanted to come earlier, but i had a thing…”

“oh, don’t even worry about it!” taehyung snorts, tossing the dirty rag over his shoulder, “i was just doing some dusting…”

you feel your mouth go drY as soon as you notice what he’s wearing

he’s wearing a henley tee (except all the buttons are undone and aLso he has his sleeves pushed up to his elbows), dark wash jeans, and a pair of tattered black converse sneakers

it’s just the casualness of it all that makes it so sexy

“so, what can i help you with tonight?” taehyung tosses the rag onto the counter before pushing his glasses back down from the top of his head

he adjusts them slightly before blinking at you and you find it awfully cute that his doe eyes now look a little bigger through the thick lenses

what can he help you with tonight?

…yeah, what can he help you with tonight?

the downside of not telling namjoon about your solo mission is the fact that namjoon’s usually the one who plans every little detail out for you

and you just came here on a whim

you don’t have a plan

you don’t have a plan at all!

your plan was to just come to the bookstore to see taehyung because you wanted to see taehyung

“i…”

“oh, by the way-” taehyung perks up suddenly, “how was your little trip down memory lane with the catcher in the rye?”

the catcher in the rye?

the catcher in the rye!!!

ah! yes!!

that’s definitely something to talk about!

…wait a second

you-

you didn’t read the book

oh god

you had two weeks to read the book and you didn’t read the book

almost immediately you feel your anxiety sPike back up and you can’t help but scold yourself for not bringing namjoon along with you

if namjoon was here, you’d just get him to say all the main points and you’d stand right next to him throwing in the occasional ‘yes, very good point!’ and ‘of course, i completely agree’ every now and then!

“the catcher in the rye!” you blurt out, suddenly aware that you haven’t spoken in like ten seconds, “i- yes! the book was- it was great. i thoroughly enjoyed it. i would definitely read it again!”

“hey, that’s great!” taehyung laughs lightly, “you know- i mean, i have to ask because i always ask this question to people who’ve read it- what do you think the main theme of it is?” taehyung hums, “because i’ve always thought it focused a lot on alienation, you know? i mean, a loss of innocence is obviously another theme, what, with holden wanting to be sheltered from the harshness of adult life- i really think it can actually be seen as some kind of social commentary… like a critique of the superficiality in society-”

“of course, i completely agree!” you nod furiously, “those are very good points-”

“i’m sorry, i’m probably sucking up all the oxygen in the room-” taehyung smiles sheepishly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “so what do you think?”

if there was ever a moment for a black hole to appear in the floor and swallow you whole… you’d want for it to happen right now.

actually, you’d want it for it to happen whilst you were driving to the bookstore so that you wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to say hi to taehyung

“i think… well, i… first of all, i agree completely with everything that you just said about aliens and… you know, a loss of innocence and how hard adult life is…” you stumble over your words, your face beginning to flush from how idiotic you probably sound, “i just… i have to talk about my favourite part in the book! you know, the part where holden- holden, that’s the name that you just mentioned- he… he does such a great job at catching those loaves of bread. i thought that part was hilarious.”

you clear your throat at the end of your mini-review

taehyung’s eyes flicker slightly and for a second you think you’re in danger of being called out for obviously noT having read the book but…

he nods slowly and brings his hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, “i mean… yeah. i completely agree! that part always gets me! why don’t you go on? i’m interested in hearing more of your thoughts.”

oh!

hey, would you look at that??

phEW

maybe you’re better at improvising than you thought you were

now knowing that you’re on the right track gives you a booST of confidence and you give yourself a mental pat on the back

you can’t wait to tell namjoon about this

he’s going to be so proud of you!!

you grin before nodding enthusiastically, “of course! i have a lot of thoughts to share on the book. i mean, i personally think it was an interesting choice on the author’s part to choose rye as the main ingredient, because he had… so many other options that he could’ve gone with! and also - did he go with light rye or dark rye?? because throughout the entire novel, he never actually specifies what kind of rye bread he’s referring to-”

taehyung leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, smiling politely as he continues to listen to your rye bread rant

it’s obvious that you definitely didn’t read the book but he was genuinely curious as to what you would be able to pull out of your ass which was why he asked you to go on

he doesn’t think anyone’s ever gone into a full-blown ramble about how the catcher in the rye is actually a narrative on the benefits on rye bread for lil ol’ him before

but, for the record…

it’s really cute how much effort you’re putting into your analysis to try to impress him

“i’m sorry, i need to- i need to interrupt you-” taehyung giggles, cutting you off right as you’re about to dive into a discussion about the number of loaves holden caught in the novel, “as much as i would love to hear more… everything that’s coming out of your mouth is wildly inaccurate, y/n.”

what

...

oh my god.

“wh-” your throat goes dry and you choke a little, “what?”

“be honest- did you read the book?” taehyung asks flat-out and you feel your cheeks burning up again

uh-oh

“i…”

okay

forget it

you can’t do this anymore!

it’s too stressful!!!!

“…no.” you press your lips together before shooting taehyung a sheepish grin, “there’s no catching loaves of bread in the novel, is there?”

“not even one loaf.”

“oh, god-” you groan quietly, reaching up to cover your hot face with your hands at the realisation that you just very confidently ranted about the importance of rye bread in this novel for the past five minutes, “not even one?!”

mortifying!

absolutely mortifying!!!!

well

it’s time to tell namjoon to find a new favourite bookstore because you are nevER bringing him back here agai-

“hey, it’s totally fine!” taehyung laughs lightly, stepping closer to you so that he can pry your hands away from your flushed face, “i actually think it’s really impressive how long you can go talking about bread-”

“you let me- you knew that i hadn’t read the book yet you let me continue talking about bread-?!” you gawk, taehyung now bursting into a full-blown chortle as he throws his head back, “how could you??”

“i couldn’t help it!!” taehyung wheezes, reaching up to flick a stray tear away, “i’m sorry! i’m sorry, really, i am-”

even when he’s laughing at you, your stomach can’t help but feel fluttery

“you’re lucky you’re pretty-” you snort, shaking your head gently, “otherwise i would be way more mad at you…”

taehyung’s laughs dwindle down into light chuckles and you swallow thickly when he takes a small step closer

“you’re lucky you’re pretty.” he retorts playfully, reaching over to move a strand of hair away from your eyes with his pinky finger, “otherwise i wouldn’t have let you talk my ear off about bread for five whole minutes…”

...he thinks you’re pretty?

“oh yeah?” you challenge, reaching over to jab your finger into his chest

taehyung reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist before offering you a particularly boyish smirk, “mm, yeah.”

you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second and you know it’s way too soon but you really want him to just lean down and kiss you…

“hey, do you like dessert?” taehyung pulls away suddenly before turning to make his way behind the counter

“de- dessert?” you ask dumbly, still a little dazed from... that

what was that?!

“mhm!” tae leans down slightly and flips a couple of switches underneath the counter, the chandelier light shutting off first before the other little lights begin to switch off as well, “there’s a little diner about a block away that makes really good strawberry cheesecakes.”

“i love dessert!” you nod, “and strawberry cheesecake sounds really yummy.”

“good! in that case, would you be interested in sharing a slice of cheesecake with me and perhaps delving deeper into your rye-based analysis?” taehyung teases as he grabs his coat off the back of his chair, his keys jingling in his hands

you snort lightly

“i would love to share a slice of cheesecake with you but i refuse to embarrass myself further, so we’re going to have to find something else to talk about-”

taehyung holds the door open for you and you immediately shiver as you step out, the chilly air a stark contrast from the warmth of tae’s cozy store

you jolt in surprise when taehyung reaches down and slips his fingers in between yours (which he later explains he only did because his hand was cold and definitely noT because he just really really wanted to hold your hand) before beginning to tug you along next to him

“well, we can talk about the fact that you thought the name of the book was catch her in the eye-”

“i knew you heard me! i knew it!!”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

491 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 3 years

Text

Leucoium - Sylvain Jose Gautier x Reader

Hey hello this is my half of the trade with @lightmyfireemblem and I know I’m late but what can I say? I’m terrible :3c This is utterly despicable, okay? Fifteen thousand words of mushy gush Sylvain Jose Gautier romancing. Some angst. Nothing weird this time. She wanted something specific with a winter ball and reader’s feelings, but I got carried away with doing set-up so everything would make sense. Forgive me.

It was springtime when you met him, the time of bloom and blossom in the town of Garreg Mach. You hid from your classmates and teachers alike among the flowers in the greenhouse, such an oddity after a lifetime in Faerghus. Less odd was the way you chased isolation in the fragrant sanctuary. A disagreeable, antisocial child. The youngest of three, a potential playing card in your parent’s deck of the social sphere. Nothing more. Even though you were only just teetering on the tremulous line between girl and woman, you’d long submitted yourself to the natural rule of your family’s cold definition. There was contentment in such a fate, comfort in playing hide and seek with life.

Until you were found.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Sylvain —a classmate and Faerghus lord you knew really only in passing— greeted you, pulling you away from your book. He stood among the flowers in the filtered green of sunshine drifting in through the glass, his hair and uniform stylishly messy and expression open and friendly. “I was looking for you. Not that you made it particularly easy.”

You looked up at the tall man from your book, confused and unsettled by being approached. If you weren’t the only one around, you probably would have told yourself he was talking to someone else as just cause to ignore the greeting. As it was, you couldn’t think of any real response. The level of familiarity he used to address you was jarring, uncomfortable. But even as an awkward moment passed of your confused staring, Sylvain didn’t falter. He was all confidence and smiles and bright, bright red. The kind of red that the goddess painted the leaves and berries of dangerous plants to ward people off, the kind that was best left to be admired from afar but never touched. And you were used to that type of spectatorship, to living behind a veil of reality where you could stay out of sight and out of mind.

Even so.

“Find me?” you asked after clearing your throat.

“The professor asked,” he said. “Y’know, if you keep skipping class, you could get in trouble.”

Although you had a variety of reasons why you hadn’t gone to classes that day, you doubted that they’d hold firm to any amount of questioning. It was childish of you. Unseemly.

With a sigh, you got to your feet. Strangely, Sylvain offered his hand. To you, the gesture registered as something like a threat. Not because it posed any danger, but because you understood what it meant and what was expected of you and the polite thoughtfulness of the offer. Rather than try and deal with any of that, you avoided it altogether, acting like you didn’t notice. Luckily, he didn’t seem to be bothered.

“Of course, I’d be more than willing to speak up on your behalf,” Sylvain told you, his voice hurried as if to ease your mind. “Me? I can take that kind of thing, but it doesn’t seem right to punish a delicate girl like you for losing track of time.”

You frowned up at him, holding your book tight against your chest and uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot as you considered him. Beautiful, he said. Delicate. Was this normal? How were you supposed to respond to things like that? The two of you were practically strangers, nevermind the glaring class difference. Although, it was not just class that separated the two of you. There was some social, deeply personal gap between people like you and him that couldn’t be defined by status or money or title, something that couldn’t be bridged. Couldn’t he tell?

Awkward, you shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Sylvain frowned. “Right… So, uh, do you like flowers?”

“I do,” you answered. Trying to ease the conversation into a slightly more comfortable place, you slowly added, “You don’t see much of them in Faerghus. Not like this, anyway.”

Even though your comment was simple, it seemed to energize Sylvain right back into a smile. “Right? It was kind of shocking. To be honest, I didn’t even know so many types of flowers could be grown,” he said.

You nodded, giving a faint hum of agreement.

“No matter how beautiful they are, though,” Sylvain said, not discouraged by your lack of response, “they pale in comparison to your beauty.” He paused before adding, “What do you think? If you and I were flowers, would we have a budding romance?”

It shouldn’t have worked. It was a terrible, terrible line. But it kind of did.

If it weren’t for your crippling lack of social prowess, you might have fallen for it. But instead, you ducked your head and cleared your throat and asked where the professor wanted to see you because you knew what you were and had no idea how to respond to such things. In so many ways, you were as fresh as the snow white lambs only just making their way into the world, as vacant as the breezy spring winds that danced over the surface of rippling water. Not because of your innocence, but because of your lack of experience. The difference between those two things was the value of either in a girl like you.

Did he know that? Did he see that?

Sylvain certainly backed off after that awkward first meeting, letting you run off with the disquieting sensation of eyes on your back.

But still, he returned. You had been hiding in the Knight’s Hall, making up on the homework you’d missed in class. Sylvain approached you with an apology for making you uncomfortable, which was unexpected and baffling. A few days later in the library, he sat down and struck up a discussion on literature. After that came an invitation to dinner which you declined. And then an invitation to tea which you accepted. After a certain point, you understood who he was and his rather damning reputation. Not that you really cared. Who were you to care? To judge? The gap between the two of you was impossible, but he acted like it didn’t exist. And you liked that.

Sylvain was your first friend. You wondered if he knew that, too.

Spring bled into the warmer season and, despite your glaring lack of social skills and suspicions that he was merely humoring you, the odd dynamic continued onward.

Summer’s end was wet and tempestuous. Congested hot stormclouds brewed above and pressed thick tension down onto the dreary frightened group marching their somber return to Garreg Mach from Conand Tower. The rain had stopped for a spell, mud squelching beneath your boots and the sound of demonic screeching echoed in the silence among your fellow students. Shadows encircled Sylvain’s red-rimmed eyes, his face pale despite the tan he’d managed to cultivate over the sunny season. He told you about the cruelty of a brother driven to barbarity by his jealous rage. He told you he shouldn’t care. He told you it was fine.

But dusk fell, inviting a forceful deluge, and Sylvain told you what hate felt like, what it was to cough up blood and loathing and wish to see yourself destroyed under its crushing weight. Beneath the pounding, pulsing, palpitating hypnosis of the rain, Sylvain told you about pain, and fear, and the destruction he’d inherited through his blood. He forced the words out through gritted teeth as if that alone could contain the simmering, seething disgust and scorn he held for the world that cultivated men like Miklan and men like him. You listened, just about the only thing you knew yourself to be good at.

By the time the rain stopped and the sun rose, Sylvain was shrugging the previous night away with a smile and apologizing for his behavior. He acted unbothered and laughed like everything was fine but the sound was too forceful and within the next two weeks he dated and broke up with no less than eleven girls. Something made sense to you after that, an understanding you’d never had for another person. You weren’t a spectator to him. With him.

Autumn drifted into Garreg Mach with the spun gold of harvest and scent of tanned hides from the hunt. Rotting leaves crunched beneath your feet, death and decay inviting the unraveling disaster that seemed to never end.

In a rare moment of quiet, Sylvain asked about your family. The casual curiosity stole your breath, made your eyes widen like a deer who’d been spotted by the hunt. It was, you knew, a pathetic story. Anticlimactic, pointless. But you told him. In the isolated cover of the library, you leaned your chin into the crook of your folded arm and stared with glassy eyes at the books stacked up in front of you and told Sylvain that you knew your parents didn’t care for you like they did your sisters, that sending you off to the Academy was a way to give you pedigree you’d never get from your own merits. You told him about inadequacy, and what it was to not be enough, and the way that words could be ground deep into the marrow of your bones until you stopped being a person and accepted an identity given to you by others because it was too difficult to try being anyone else. Sylvain put his hand over yours and told you that they were wrong about you, his lovely dark eyes filled with the compassion so many accused him of lacking. He looked at you like that and told you that he understood. And you believed him.

As surely as the sun would rise in the morning and the seasons would change, Sylvain became a habit of yours. The odd hours he’d help you study, the afternoons drinking tea together, the crystalline moments of having your life saved time and time again because you always found yourself in the bloody fray of the front lines, nearly suicidal in the surge of destruction. But Sylvain never called you helpless, or useless, or weak, or childish, or disagreeable and you knew the gap could never be bridged, but you liked the warmth of being near him, even if it was nothing more than fragmented charity.

“Why?” you asked once. It was cold and your breath misted in front of your dry lips.

Sylvain shrugged casually. “I dunno. I guess you’re just easy to be around.”

And that made you laugh. Honestly laugh. Because nobody had ever said that, you doubted anybody had ever thought that. You, disagreeable and antisocial and unable to hold a conversation or eye contact. Not you. But he sounded so genuine, so casual, like it was the truth. Somehow, it was the truth.

“What about you?” Sylvain asked. “Why do you like me?”

You looked at him and wondered. He was a strange man to be sure. Cruel. Cold-hearted in ways that should have made him unlikable. Flirtatious in ways that made you decidedly uncomfortable. Womanizing. Dispassionate about many things you’d been taught to place importance on. But that wasn’t it. Not by half. Nor was it that he was handsome, or smooth talking, or because he had a title or Crest. Those things —like the mountains or the moon or his red, red hair— just were. No. You stared him down and considered that question because you knew there was something that went deeper than any of that. Why did you like him? Because he had been kind to you. Because for some reason you couldn’t explain, he tried. Because, despite everything, he seemed to care. To understand.

You shrugged. “I guess you’re just easy to be around.”

Winter in Garreg Mach was, despite the tragedy, filled with excitement for the White Heron Ball. You were a poor dancer but nobody had really expected you to participate anyway.

So you avoided the cheerful party in favor of the chilly winter night, watching snowflakes drift down in careless little clusters. They were big and wet, but not oppressive or unkind. It was too warm in Central Fódlan for them to stick just yet.

“I thought you might be out here. Not too keen on parties?” Sylvain asked, the question playfully knowing. It didn’t surprise you that he’d somehow be able to find you. He had an uncanny ability for that. You nodded in response. Not put off by your lack of verbal response, Sylvain took the spot beside you to watch the snow slowly drift down from the velvety dark void of the sky into the calming halo of light. “Guess that’s not surprising…. Anyway, assuming you don’t mind my company, I’d love to stay here for a bit. I need to lay low for a little while.”

“Why?” you asked.

“The girl I’ve been going out with saw me dancing with another girl and made a big scene,” he said, frowning. “She accused me of cheating on her.”

“Were you?” you asked, giving him a sideways glance.

Sylvain shrugged. “Well, yeah, but I didn’t think we were serious enough for her to freak out on me like that.” He let those words settle before his expression changed, a mischievous smile forming on his face. “Anyway, enough of that. As long as we’re here, it’d be very remiss of me to pass up on the chance to ask the cutest girl in Garreg Mach to do me the pleasure of a dance.”

You met his eyes. It was too dark to see their steady sepia color, but the far off lights allowed you to see the way he looked at you. What would it feel like for him to hold you, his hand in yours, the other on your back? Twirling around in synchronized steps, close enough for you to smell him, to feel his warmth. You looked away.

“No, thank you.”

“And the chances of me changing that answer to a yes…?”

“Very low,” you responded with a resolute nod. “There’s not any music.”

“That’s fine, we’d be guided by the sweet melody of love,” he said. You didn’t reply. “That was a joke. C’mon, it’s just you and me here. Even if you’re terrible, nobody else will see.”

It was presumptuous of him to say that you would be terrible, but he wasn’t wrong. Nobody had ever accused you of grace. You thought about tripping and stumbling, messing up the rhythm, embarrassing yourself completely in front of Sylvain. The idea made your face hot, your stomach dropping and shoulders curling inwards. “No.”

Sylvain sighed. “Is it because of what I told you about the girls from earlier?”

“No,” you said, confused by the question.

“‘Cause I know how it probably looks, but I swear that it’s completely different from you... I guess I say that a lot, too,” Sylvain paused, frowning like he wasn’t sure how to continue that line of thought.

You weren’t sure if the idea of being “different” was a good or bad thing. Was it because he didn’t view you as a girl? Or because you were just friends? That was a good thing, wasn’t it? It made your heart ache a bit. It made you wish, just for a second, that you were better at dancing. Then you wouldn’t be an afterthought sought out when his other options were removed. Even if you were just one of the cycling girls he spun around, you would spend those moments in his arms being an object of desire. Fleeting affection, temporary happiness. Moments, as lovely and short-lived as the dainty snowflakes illuminated by the light. You wondered if that was what he wanted, truly.

“Does it make you happy?” you asked after a moment. “The girls, I mean. Dating, dancing. It seems like it causes quite a few problems for you.”

Sylvain looked at you with something like surprise at the seemingly random question, his stare becoming harder than before as he considered something. Finally, he shrugged, forcing a casual air. “It’s fun, I guess,” he said, his voice tight in a defensive way. “Why? You’re not about to start lecturing me, are you?”

“No,” you told him.

“Okay,” he said, his disbelief clear.

“I wouldn’t ever lecture you for what you choose to do,” you told him softly, regretting having brought it up at all. “You’re your own person… You deserve to take responsibility for your own happiness.”

“Oh, well… Thanks, I guess,” Sylvain said awkwardly, a beat too late. The silence crinkled like dry paper between you. “Um, anyway, you know what would make me very happy?”

“What?” you asked, glad for the change of subject.

“A dance with the cutest girl I know,” Sylvain said, shooting you a winning smile.

Cute. That was a word he used a lot. You weren’t sure anybody else had ever accused you of such a thing.

“Maybe another time,” you said, staring down at the paving stones, uncomfortably flattered. And you didn’t mean it and you were pretty sure Sylvain knew that, but he laughed and stretched his arms behind his head and didn’t ask about what you’d said or why you’d said it, letting the moment be.

And then the world shattered beneath the monastery.

It was the bleakest, coldest, darkest part of winter when Dimitri lost it. Edelgard marched her armies on Garreg Mach through the frosted freezing air. War consumed everything you had thought to be stable, shaking apart the walls around you. When you returned, home was not quite the home you’d known before leaving. Like you didn’t quite fit anymore.

Seasons turned as stubbornly as ever. Years passed, day by day, moon by moon. As the third daughter to an earl in Gautier territory, you stuck around during those years of war, your habit continuing to grow during the occasional visit to your far more powerful and important friend. He didn’t have much time for you, and that was fine. It was what you were, a pale shadow hiding in the places so nobody would mistake you for something more. And that was fine. You taught yourself strategy and politics and occasionally allowed yourself to pretend to amount to more.

It was winter, winter again, when the war campaign rallying behind Dimitri and Professor Byleth returned in earnest, ice beneath your feet and chills gripping your skin beneath your armor, numbing your fingers and toes. It was winter and you and Sylvain were brothers in arms, and that was fine. You liked fighting at his side, you liked sitting in the dining hall and listening to your friends talk from a chair in the corner and pretending that this was your life, that you could have this always. Even on the edge of death and despair. Even then.

It was springtime when Sylvain confessed, the few final days right on the edge of summer. Out of the snow and miserable bluster of winter warfare spring had emerged, the chill air warmed by a dahlia sun filtered through a gauzy haze of lingering wet mist. Five years had passed since Sylvain waltzed into the greenhouse, five cyclical, cynical seasons of horror and destruction. But to everything a season, and the rebirth was coming. A new world emerging like chicks from their egg, flowers from seeds.

The two of you sat in the garden near the dining hall, enjoying the changing weather over tea. You wondered how much had really changed, considering the way you felt compelled to avoid Sylvain’s dark eyes, constantly shifting in your chair. More and more you’d become aware of a certain type of tension between the two of you, an awkwardness you didn’t know what to call or how to handle. It was different from the friendship you’d fostered, but not quite. It made your stomach twist into knots, jumping with the pitter-pattering wing-beats of butterflies.

It had really begun after Dimitri’s coronation. Considering the circumstances, the party hadn’t been anything special, but there had been a feast. And some drinking. And even a bit of dancing. Sylvain had kissed you and told yourself that it didn’t mean anything because he kissed a lot of girls and he was drunk, nevermind that he had neither been with another girl that night nor had his voice been altered by the telltale slur of intoxication. But what other reason could you think of to explain it away? After all, he couldn’t mean anything like that. Not when it came to you.

Even so.

“Y’know…” Sylvain told you, uncharacteristically awkward. “The wars gonna end soon.”

“That’s true,” you said, keeping your eyes distracted by watching the wind dance among the grass and shake the tree’s leaves into a shimmery wonder.

“And I hope that, by now, you know that I… uh…” Sylvain trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished. “Well, you know.”

“Know what?” you asked, put off by his shift in tone. “Is something wrong?”

Sylvain’s eyes widened and he scratched the back of his head, a nervous movement you’d noticed a few times. Not quite like now, though. Not with the way his cheeks were slightly pink and his body tense and eyes flicking away from yours. Usually, it was you who avoided eye contact.

“No! Of course not. What would be wrong?” he asked. “I was just wondering… Do you have any plans? For after the war, I mean. Or, I guess what I’m trying to ask is if you’re, y’know, seeing anyone?”

“I’m seeing you,” you offered after a beat. You knew what he was asking, but not why he’d ask. That made you nervous, your heart thumping unhelpfully.

“What?” Sylvain asked, his eyes wide. A second later, that expression of shock composed itself in understanding. “Oh, you mean… Right. That’s… not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Sylvain frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in something like frustration. “You’re difficult to read, you know that?”

“So are you,” you said under your breath, staring down at the toe of your shoe. Alliance merchants had come to Garreg Mach with all sorts of finery and wares, but you’d never gotten out of the habit of living in the hand-me-downs of your older sisters. These shoes had been nice when they were purchased by now they were old and worn and not quite yours, your feet not the ones to have broken them in.

You looked up at Sylvain, folding your hands carefully in front of you. “Obviously I’m not seeing anyone.” You hoped there was nothing bitter in your voice, that he wouldn’t pick up the ache you felt in saying it aloud. “What about you?”

“Nope, I’m completely single,” Sylvain said a little too quickly. A moment later, his shoulders deflated. “Actually, it’s kinda funny, I haven’t had much luck with girls recently... But that’s not what I wanted to talk about! See, I was just thinking. I mean, I wanted to tell you that I… I think this thing between you and me is… It’s good. I like it. I-I like you.”

You’d never gotten the trick to responding to such things. Praise, flirtations, whatever he meant by them, it seemed to always catch you off guard. Especially now, especially like this. Avoidance or honesty, you had to pick one. Eventually, you decided to go the way of honesty. “I feel the same,” you said slowly, hesitantly.

Sylvain smiled a big, goofy smile like he won something, looking at you like you were worth looking at. Like you were beautiful. He called you beautiful a lot, but it was just a word. A word without meaning, lots of things were beautiful without meaning. Flowers, snow, fire, all of them could make a person’s heart ache with their beauty, yet they could never last long enough for the word to stick. That look in Sylvain’s eyes, though, that was different. It made you feel differently, almost enough to convince you that it meant something, that you meant something.

“You told me a while ago that I deserved to take responsibility for my own happiness,�� Sylvain said. “At the time, I thought that you meant that it was okay that I was doing the things I was doing. Chasing girls, being a good-for-nothing, just accepting that one day I’d be married off for my Crest. But that’s not what you meant, was it?” It took a second, but eventually, you remembered that conversation. So long ago now that it felt like another lifetime. In a way it was. Another life, another season. Undeterred by your lack of answer, Sylvain continued. “You’re pretty wise, you know that? Even if you say that you’re not.” He sighed, running his palms over his thighs nervously. “Anyway, I think you were right. And I’d like to do that. To decide for myself how to be happy, to decide for myself who makes me happy. And I realized... that it’s you. So… Uh… I don’t expect you to answer right away, but that’s how I feel. I just needed to get that off my chest.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You realized from a third person point of view that were you just sitting there, looking at him with a wide eyed, open mouthed look of shock and it was definitely not very attractive but you felt like you couldn’t move, like your brain had shorted out.

“Me?” you finally asked.

“Well, yeah,” Sylvain said, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t see anyone else around.”

Me? You wanted to repeat that question, ask it a million times until his answer made sense because it didn’t, not when he was talking about himself and happiness and what he wanted. Not you.

Looking at Sylvain, all you could see was the same attractive nobleman who came searching for you in the greenhouse with a grin and questionable intentions and a bad pick-up line, all you could see was the immeasurable chasm that existed between the two of you. Not status, not wealth, not title. Just you and Sylvain, the core of what you were and what you amounted to.

The longer your silence stretched on, the more concerned Sylvain’s expression became. It was a cute look. He always pretended to play it cool, like he didn’t actually care that much, especially when it came to girls. But he did. “Hey, are you okay?” he began to get up to come towards you, but you jumped to your feet, swaying unsteadily.

“I need to, uh, think. About this,” you said, the words coming out stiff and as stilted as you felt. Sylvain sat back, frowning. When he looked like that, you wanted to say yes, to agree, to throw yourself into his arms and beg him to smile at you like he had so many times before. You couldn’t tell if that desire was selfish or hopeful or idealistic.

“Yeah, I figured you would. That’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. Then, just as quickly, “Thank you. Goodbye.”

Sylvain said something more, but you didn’t hear it. You weren’t running away from him. Fast walking, maybe, the worn soles of your old shoes hitting the paving stones at a rapid pace. Why? You wondered that with every step. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to.

But you did.

It was only when you were secluded in the safety of the greenhouse that you realized how much of a fool you’d made of yourself. You realized something else, too. You realized why you hadn’t done what you wished you had and thrown yourself into his arms, informed by an angry little whisper that sounded an awful lot like the family who had cast you out to Garreg Mach to keep you out of sight for a time. Hiding in the muggy nook between exotic flowers, you knew yourself to be the disagreeable and unlikable girl you’d always been. You had told Sylvain once that he deserved to be responsible for his own happiness, but that didn’t mean you. Not awkward, strange, and occasionally even unlikable you. You were many things, but you weren’t a good tempered lady who could help him in his duties as Margrave Gautier, not someone worth loving. Not someone who could give him what he needed to be happy.

It was springtime, and the world was blooming.

It was beautiful, it really was.

In one of the last lingering days of late summer, you sought him out. The day had been long, longer than any other. But now it was over. For some strange reason, you couldn’t help but feel some regret for that fact. Edelgard was dead, her fallen body marking the end of an era, the tragically human final act of an age of titans and gods. A new age had begun. Looking half a fleeting ember, the victorious sun laid between heaven and earth, casting its last radiant gaze across a place on the cusp of change. Tomorrow, it would rise over a different world, bringing with it a new dawn.

The won city Enbarr was torn and ragged from the battle, heartache at every corner. There was a hollow, spectral feeling to the destruction. People had been evacuated from places like these, places where the damage was the worst. It was a ghost town now. Marching back through the complicated network of streets that had served as a battleground only hours prior wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be doing. Not really. You had already done many difficult things today, taken many lives. This wouldn’t be the most difficult, not by a long shot, but it weighed heavily on your shoulders. Your final task. After this, you could rest.

You found Sylvain in the wild, crackling air of dusk’s saturated flare at the edge of the famed Enbarr canal, blanketed in the golden honey light of sunset. Late summer in Embarr was overripe and damp, swollen with the saltwater dew from being so near the sea. The humidity was worse here, at the lip of the waterway. Congested condensation and a cloying, musty scent clung to your scalp, beading up on the skin beneath your clothes.

Sylvain sat with one foot dangling over the edge, the other knee bent to make an armrest. He had an uncapped flask in hand. Inches away from the toe of his boot, the water rippled and distorted with his reflection. Sylvain looked every bit the hero he was with that handsome, contemplative expression as he looked to the horizon. You sat beside him without asking, staring up at the approaching night sky and letting out a big breath you’d been holding for what felt like hours. Days. Months. Years, five of them in total. It was a very big breath.

“Hey gorgeous,” Sylvain said.

Your head tipped back to give him a sideways glance. Smiling, of course he was smiling at you. The summer had darkened his skin a shade or two, his cheeks and nose tinged pink from the burning, radiant sun. It should have looked off with the bright red of his hair, but on him, it just worked. His teeth were white against the tan, but you saw something beyond the attractive expression. The slope of his shoulders and furrowed brow, the cloudy distraction behind his umber eyes. Not to mention the alcohol you could smell on his breath. Sylvain had paid the price for heroism. You all had. Enemies, allies, friends —rivers could run with the amount of blood that had been spilled. Who had he been thinking of? Edelgard? Hubert? Dorothea? Sylvain and the lovely songstress had been close, all those years and years ago.

But maybe it wasn’t her, maybe it wasn’t the searing gash of fresh tragedy that drove him here. Maybe he drank to ease the ache of old wounds, a pain that most had forgotten by now. Miklan had been a black hearted and cruel man, but he was Sylvain’s brother, and he had been the first to die.

“Hi,” you said, meeting his smile with a small attempt at one of your own. There were times to point out his charming charades, to ask what it was that he had been thinking about, but not now.

“What brings you here?” Sylvain asked. There was a subtext there. A surprise. You hardly ever approached him, always waiting and hoping for him to come to you first. Uncertain, awkward, too frightened of rejection should you make your desires known. This was, in a way, almost like an echo of your disastrous first introduction.

“You.”

Sylvain blinked. “Oh? It must be my lucky day.”

Lucky day? You wondered about that, a tumultuous gust of emotion swirling in your stomach. The victory had been absolute. No large losses, none of your friends had died today. Yes, that was lucky. The people of Enbarr had readily accepted Dimitri as their ruler. Also lucky.

You looked away from Sylvain, towards the sky. The sun was quickly disappearing. So quick, taking the spun sugar clouds and tangy sweet hues of sunset along with it. It moved despite all your wishes, prompting the future onward without mercy.

“You look pretty cute when you’re lost in thought like that,” Sylvain said. “But shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. “What about you?”

“I am.” He held up the flask with a lopsided smile. “Want some? It’s good, I snagged it from the Imperial storehouse.”

You eyed it for a second before giving in. Dimitri would have yelled at the two of you. Well, no, he’d have frowned in disapproval. Ingrid would have yelled. But you took a swig of the spiced liquor and decided that it was fine. Faerghus had a lot of alcohol, but it hardly ever tasted good. This was good. It left a searing trail down your throat and into your stomach, twisting your thoughts up into a properly warm buzz. You took another drink.

“The war is over now,” you eventually said, handing back the flask. “But it’s not really over, is it?”

Sylvain hesitated before answering, the rushing water beneath your dangling feet filling the silent space. Stars were revealing themselves now, chasing away the day for once and for all. “It’ll take time to make things right again, but the worst is over. Probably.” He paused and you could feel him looking at you, his stare intent. “Why?”

“You said before that you care about me,” you said, unable to meet his eye while remembering that afternoon and all of the embarrassment that had come of it. “Do you, uh, do you remember?” “How could I not?” Sylvain asked. “Gotta be honest, it’s been a while since a girl ran away from me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, frowning. “I was… Overwhelmed.” To say in the least. Just thinking about his confession made your cheeks blaze and stomach churn.

“It’s okay. You get this adorable expression when you’re embarrassed,” Sylvain said. He was grinning, you could hear it in his voice.

Rather than panic by trying to figure out a retort to being called adorable under these circumstances, you thought about what it had felt like to kiss him all those moons ago. You measured the honesty behind the words of his confession and thought about the pain he hid so well from the world in a gnarled, terrible place in his heart. You thought about the secrets you’d exchanged and the many times he’d saved your life. You thought about the terrible person he occasionally indulged in being, and the wonderful man who existed despite that. You thought about Sylvain and the words came to you like the sweet nectar drawn from the dainty honeysuckle bloom. You wondered if you could really deserve it and the words came to you softly, emerging harsh and low, pulled out from your lips like poison from a wound.

“I really care about you, Sylvain,” you told him stiffly.

“Really? That’s good!” he said, grinning. When you didn’t answer, his posture wilted. “That is good, isn’t it?”

“Dimitri asked me to stay in Enbarr to smooth out the transition into a unified Fódlan.”

“And you said….”

“Yes.”

Sylvain let out a breath that was almost a humorless laugh, his lips turned up in a half-smile that didn’t at all meet his dark eyes. You felt your heart break, just a tiny bit. The easiest thing to do, just a few words, yet one of the heaviest tasks you’d performed all day.

“So… That’s it?” he asked.

You loved him. You had for a while. Loved him in all the different forms the feeling could manifest, you knew that with an oppressive weight of fact. A vicious whisper in your mind insisted that he couldn’t love you, that it was all a beautiful little lie. Pity, even. But maybe it was all fake and manufactured and the feelings he spoke of were meaningless because you were just that easy, awkward and strange and never quite fitting in, you made a perfect target for someone like him to swoop in and seduce and you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. But it felt nice and you couldn’t find yourself to care, or to blame him even if that was the case. Because it was nice. And warm. And lovely.

Besides, if it was true, if he was honest, then this was for the best anyway. He deserved better than what you could offer.

The sun was gone, the wild darkness of summer nights enveloping the two of you in an intimate cloak, a world of your own.

“Would it really be very hard?” you asked, staring up at the stars to avoid his eyes. “After all, I’m…”

No, you didn’t finish that thought. Not aloud. But you thought it —I’m me, and you’re you.

That was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? Sylvain wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he was far more than he thought of himself. He was strong and smart and caring and strangely considerate in ways people didn’t expect. He was the seductive dark heat of late summer nights, the cloying musky death and decay of autumn leaves beneath a crimson sun, and the destructive crackling blaze of a winter fire. To that, you were the cold shadow cast by a meek spring sun, a dotting of yellow headed weeds among a garden of gorgeous flowers.

And one day he’d realize he’d made a mistake. Was it worse to imagine having your heart broken by his honest and sharp tongue when that day came, or to be kept around out of his sense of duty or guilt? If you could believe that Sylvain cared for you now, that only meant that it would hurt both of you that much more later. The sour, disagreeable third child. Of all the things the seasons had changed, you’d never shed yourself of that title.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sylvain asked. His expression was wounded, an edge of defeat in his voice. Your shoulders tensed up, a knot forming in your throat. “You don’t believe me, do you. That’s… Well, I probably deserve that.” He sighed, a stressed sound. “Fine, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you that I’m serious this time, that I mean it. I’ll-”

“I do believe you,” you told him, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The water was dark, it’s inky surface winking with the faint hint of shimmering reflected light as it rushed past. You stared at it, trying to keep yourself under control. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing?” he asked flatly.

“I don’t want you to wake up and realize that you only cared for me because of the emotions of war, or because I’m convenient. I-I don’t want to be your mistake,” you said, practically glaring at the canal to remain steady. “I want you to be happy, and I… I don’t think that I can do that.”

“You already do,” Sylvain said.

That shocked you into meeting his gaze again, unable to find the words to respond. In the dark, the color of his eyes was lost. But his intensity was heavy and warm and as intoxicating as the liquor and you were drawn to it like nothing else in the world because the way he made you feel when he looked at you like that was incomparable. But you were just you. Awkward, strange, uncertain. Even unpleasant in so many ways. How could you truly believe you deserved to be looked at like that? Like you mattered.

“You’ll come back to Faerghus, won’t you?” Sylvain asked. “After you’re done here, I mean. His Majesty can’t ask you to stay in Enbarr forever, right?” Dimitri most certainly could ask that of you, although you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if you wanted to return to Faerghus, Dimitri wouldn’t force you to stay. Sylvain didn’t seem to care about your answer, he likely knew it just as well as you did. “Right, so when things have calmed down here, you’ll come home,” Sylvain said, like that settled something.

Home. What did he think of as your home? The miserable cold estate of your father in Gautier territory? That no more sounded like home than Enbarr did. Perhaps you could continue work as an ambassador, or perhaps you would stay in the former Empire. Perhaps that would be better for everyone. Out of sight, out of-

“You will come back, won’t you?” Sylvain asked when you didn’t respond, his voice softer.

“Yes,” you said, unable to deny him that.

“Promise me something, then,” Sylvain said. “When you come back to Faerghus, you’ll give me a serious shot at proving to you how much I truly care about you.”

Your stomach turned over unhappily, nervously. What were you meant to feel about that request? Hope? Happiness? Guilt? Trepidation? In a way, you felt all of them at once, the sensation almost as overwhelming as the humidity. Once again, you wanted to say yes. You wanted to throw yourself into his arms and accept what would come of it.

The water rushed, bugs buzzing in the distance. You said nothing.

“C’mon, you wouldn’t wanna break my heart, would you?” Sylvain asked, his smile just about the only distinct thing you could make out in the dark.

“When I return...” you said slowly, considering it. What were the chances of that, you wondered? By the time you returned, the strange and faraway future, Sylvain would be Margrave Gautier. You couldn’t imagine him staying alone for long, not really. So it was a nice promise, pretty words, but no meaning. Just like beautiful, lovely, pretty, cute. Meaningless, without consequence. Another lovely thing to hold in your heart even when he’d forgotten all about you, a piece of treasure clutched in a dead man’s hand at the bottom of the ocean. “I promise.”

“Heh, you really know how to make a guy work for it,” Sylvain said, grinning like he’d won something. But it was just a casual, silly promise, nothing more. Even so. “It’s a promise, then.” He lifted the flask like a toast and took a hearty drink before passing it to you. It was almost like a kiss, your lips touching his by proxy. An innocent kiss, then, tasting of honeyed liquor and heat in your head and chest and head. A toast to a future you didn’t believe would come to pass. But you wished for it. You really did.

Autumn came later than it did in the north. Beginning with rippling waves of golden wheat and changing leaves, the infectious scent of fall harvest and drying earth greeted you each time you left the city. Not to be outdone, the vibrant infection of dying things and decaying earth crept into the streets of Enbarr, a velvety cloak fog sneaking into the streets. Fall hit Enbarr without the intense bite it had for Faerghus, which you couldn’t help but appreciate considering the amount of traveling your new position required of you.

It was difficult, you were hardly a politician, but you made it work. This was good. You needed to become strong. In a way, it was like setting a goal. You told yourself all the time that you could never be worthy of the promise Sylvain had made to you on that summer night, all the while working to become a woman who was. Strong. Beautiful. Self assured. Oh, you tried.

Sylvain wrote, occasionally. He told you that negotiations with Sreng were difficult. The leader of the country rightly had little trust for a place and people that had brutally annexed half of their land and only recently emerged from a terrible war. Oddly, being the victors made the position even more precarious, especially with the militantly nationalistic values the Chruch of Seiros had instilled within Fódlan for so long. Certain countries were willing to make alliances out of the fear, but others doubled down because of their worries that Fódlan could so easily ruin them.

Sylvain made no acknowledgment of romance or your promise, but there was something. The scent of his cologne that found its way into every envelope. The casual, loopy lattice of his handwriting. And the way he signed each letter, words you kept locked up tight in your heart. With love, Sylvain Jose Gautier. Forever yours, Sylvain Jose Gautier. Affectionately, Sylvain Jose Gautier.

You scorned yourself for the hope you felt. But you couldn’t quite kill it, either. /

Winter in the former Empire was as mild as the fall, all things considered. You didn’t even see snow until you ventured up into the former Arundel territory. Sylvain wrote less often. He must have been frightfully busy. Not to mention the difficulty of getting the post in or out of the snow-thick Faerghus. You tried not to take it personally.

Sylvain said, the weather there is probably nicer than here, it feels like I’m always cold these days. Cold and busy. Sylvain said, of course, it would be better if I could bask in the warmth of your smile. Sylvain said, Dimitri has decided to pick up the tradition of winter celebrations in Fhirdiad, any chance you’ll be there? Signed, Your devoted and freezing, Sylvain Jose Gautier.

You told him that you couldn’t. The nobles in the Empire were ready to crack at any moment, even a few weeks away would surely shatter the whole thing. Maybe next year.

Maybe. The word tasted like hope when you said it and you tried to keep your expectations in check.

Winter became spring became summer. Sylvain hardly ever wrote throughout the changing seasons, but neither did you. Too busy, too distracted, too forgetful, too frightened of rejection. Whenever you put the pen to paper, you found that all you could write was that you missed him. So much that it had become a terrible ache. Was that too selfish of you? Too terrible? You wondered if he had found a new love yet, if he thought of you. You wondered if he missed you, if he thought about you as often as you did him. You closed your eyes and pressed your nose to the heavy parchment that smelled of Sylvain’s cologne and dried ink and expensive paper and pretended for a moment longer that you could return to Faerghus as a woman who deserved to be at his side, that he would have you.

Autumn came again, the musty warm scent of sunshine on crispy yellow and red piles of leaves and sweet musk of death. The former Empire was finally becoming stable enough to free you from its clutches, the lords kept in check under Dimitri’s reign. Perhaps you would serve as an ambassador after all, Dimitri seemed willing to entertain the idea.

Winter descended a mild grip, bestowing a chilly kiss onto the city of Enbarr. No teeth, no cruelty. No snow. Although it was possibly one of the worst seasons to trek up north, you knew it was time to return. You had said maybe, but this was the goal you’d been building yourself towards all this time. You looked in the mirror and told yourself that you had changed throughout the year. No longer the disagreeable, antisocial child you had been. Even if Sylvain had forgotten his promise, even if he no longer cared.

Even so, even so.

The day had been short, shorter than most that you had spent in the mild climate of Enbarr. Comparatively, winter days in Fhirdiad were fleeting and freezing, the sun coming out just in time to wave goodbye. So many things had changed in the year and a half that you’d been away. Faerghus was a different beast entirely from the barren wasteland it had been. Trade routes had been established, relations between the former Alliance and Empire strengthened, and a certain feeling of life returned to the citizens. Fhirdiad was hardly recognizable, decked out in lights and wreaths in honor of the winter celebrations they were so fond of. Clean streets, rosy cheeks, playing children —you could barely reconcile the image of the city as it had been with the place that greeted you.

You had changed, too. Stronger, smarter, you had more perspective about the world. More confidence, maybe. Hopefully. By the goddess you hoped.

Many things hadn’t changed, however.

Until you were certain of your position and had a place to live, you’d taken a room in an Inn near the palace in Fhirdiad. It was cold and unornamented, such a stark contrast to the decadent rooms you’d taken in Enbarr. One thing you were at least somewhat certain of was that you hadn’t told anyone where you were staying. Despite that, barely an hour after you arrived, Annette and Mercedes towed an unenthusiastic Ingrid to your door. To get ready for the ball, they said, acting as if no time at all had passed.

With them, you didn’t feel as strong a need to prove yourself or the way you’d changed, the growth you’d achieved. They were quite unlike the sisters you’d grown up with, warm and kind and energetic. All the while tripping over themselves to inform you of everything you’d missed in the time you’d been gone, Annette and Mercedes styled you like a doll. “Ooo, you should wear your hair down like this,” Annette said, arranging your hair around your shoulders helpfully. “And I’ve got this shimmery eye pallet that will look great on you.” Mercedes dug through your luggage to find one of the many fancy dresses you’d acquired while living in the former Empire. “I think this dress matches the theme, don’t you think, Annie?” she asked. Surprisingly, even Ingrid joined in. Her hair was still short, but she applied makeup and donned a dress that showed an impressive amount of shoulder. Still, she rejected the lipstick Mercedes offered, saying that there would be sausages at the party and it’d get everywhere.

None of them mentioned Sylvain. You didn’t ask. It was nice to be around them again, to simply bask in their company. Making friends in Enbarr hadn’t been an option when so much of the court would have gladly seen you dead. Odd, you hadn’t realized how lonely you’d been.

By the end of it all, you couldn’t help but feel a bit vain. Yes, you had changed quite a bit. Where you had been a scrawny and awkward girl hovering between stages of life during the war, you were now truly a woman. Elegant and graceful. Peace had allowed your hair and skin to finally shine, given the proper attention that long war campaigns had denied. No longer living on rations and training constantly, your body was softer than it had ever been, filling out the dress. You put on a practiced smile and stood up straight and told yourself that it was natural, that this was who you wanted to be.

Snow drifted down in lackadaisical twirls when the four of you entered the royal palace ballroom. It was a place you’d only seen once, when Dimitri took the throne. You had strong memories of that night, ones that made your stomach dip and churn with anxiety. And excitement.

After being relieved of your cloaks and announced, you paused to take it all in. Built in much the same fashion as other Faerghus structures, there was a harsh, utilitarian cut to the grand palace ballroom. The low ceilings lent a bunker-like quality to the place, although you wouldn’t call it cramped, either. Everything was cut with sharp angles and little detailing. Most of the stone was smoothed and finished but not colored or altered. Despite the relative simplicity, the floor plan was expansive, giving the party goers more than enough space to spread out into the various nooks and alcoves. The dance floor, a rather new addition, was set on a platform on the far end, the band set up on a slightly higher platform beside it. Tiles on the floor were what truly denoted the inherent wealth and style of royalty. The Crest of Blaiddyd was the largest, patterned across the dance floor, but the major noble Crests from Faerghus were printed in other important spaces. It couldn’t be seen from the entryway, but a sequence of stained glass panels representing Loog’s war for independence was set behind the King’s table.

Ingrid broke off from the four of you, ostensibly in search of the buffet, but Annette took your arm. “We should go see His Majesty first! I’m sure he’ll be super excited to see you again.”

“Annie,” Mercedes chided. “I’m sure there are many people she’d like to see.”

“No, I’d love to see Dimitri again,” you said with a smile that felt somewhat weak. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to see Sylvain, if you were ready for that. At the same time, you felt like you couldn’t wait.

King Dimitri was easy to find. He cut a grand figure in his royal ensemble, mingling among the people with a genuine smile. His confidence in the role of king had clearly grown, his movements as easy in his gala finery as they were in armor, not to mention the way he interacted with people lacking the awkwardness you were used to.

He smiled and greeted you, even kissing your hand, and it was utterly genuine. Dimitri was as polite and kind as you remembered, but it was wrong. He looked at you and that blue eye didn’t linger or seem surprised, he saw no difference between the woman who stood in front of him and the nervous, awkward girl he’d celebrated with after the war. Only a year and a half had passed, but still.

“You’re here to stay, then?” Dimitri asked. You smiled, but it was strained. To stay in Faerghus, yes, that had been your plan. But why? To do what? You realized right then how silly it was to be wearing a face full of makeup and a gown, like you were playing an odd game of pretend. You wanted to be validated, to prove to them all how you’d grown. That you were worth something now.

“I am.”

“I’m interested to hear everything about the situation in Enbarr,” Dimitri said enthusiastically. His eye flicked behind you, a new group of people hoping to meet the celebrity Savior King. “Er, later, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yes, of course,” you responded. “Later.”

He shot you an apologetic smile as he bowed out.

You turned back to scan the ballroom and you told yourself that you weren’t specifically looking for a dash of bright red among the muted wintery colors because that felt an awful lot like hope. And that was silly. You had grown, you had changed. Childish promises were hardly a concern of yours, now. When disappointment struck your chest at the absence, you ignored it.

Instead, you set to work trying to find where Mercedes and Annette had disappeared to. Before you could stray too far, a familiar soft voice called your name. Mercedes stood beside the hulking figure of Dedue. “I was just telling him that you came!” she said, smiling.

“It seems that everyone is here,” Dedue noted. “I’m… Glad to see you again.” He bowed, stiff and polite. It didn’t necessarily shock you that he would regard you in the same way as he always did. Straightforward and famously terse.

“Dedue just got back, too,” Mercedes said.

“From where?” you asked.

“I was in Duscur,” Dedue said.

At your confusion, Mercedes added, “After Dedue left Dimitri’s service, he and I have been working on opening a school for the children of Duscur.”

“Yes, it is a difficult project, but a worthwhile endeavor,” Dedue said, wearing a small smile as he looked down at her. A private look that you didn’t quite grasp. “In any case, a great many things have changed while you were away. It must be shocking.”

“A bit,” you said vaguely, surprised by their behavior. Caught off guard. Awkward. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Of course, we’ll catch up with you later!” Mercedes said.

Drifting over to the buffet table, you saw that Ingrid was right about the sausages. The spread was quite grand, but you’d grown used to such foods by spending so much time in Enbarr. Maybe a little spoiled, as you couldn’t help but note that many dishes were missing. But your stomach was far too nervous to eat anyway, so you accepted a flute of bubbly champagne, sipping at it as you made your way around.

People looked at you, watched you, but none of it was quite like you wanted. Did they see you because of the way you looked, the ways you’d changed, or did they view you as an awkward introvert pretending at being a lady? Which, you wondered.

You saw Ashe at just about the same time that he saw you, your eyes locking and his face immediately breaking out in a smile. “I heard you were here!” he said enthusiastically. He didn’t look older, not really. His hair was a little longer, but that was it. It was the same Ashe who had taught you the names of all the flowers in the greenhouse greeting you with the same smile he always had.

You smiled and nodded, unable to think of any more elegant greeting.

“It’s great to see you again,” Ashe said. So genuine, it made you feel bad for being so bitter. “I wish I had more time, but-” His eyes danced around the crowd, looking for something. Or someone. “I brought my younger brother along to introduce him to everyone, but I’ve no idea where he might have gone.”

“Do you need help looking?” you asked, the words more polite than anything.

“No, thank you. I can manage,” Ashe said gratefully. “I can’t wait for us all to catch up.”

“Me neither.” Your smile was thin because you knew he certainly didn’t see you any differently. And you weren’t sure what it was that you expected, that you wanted. Only that the absence made you feel a bit hollow, like you wanted to retreat to the shadows and hide.

You found Felix by acting on that impulse. He stood by the wall, on the fringe of the crowd with a slightly annoyed look about him. He didn’t wear the current style of laid back formal wear with a militaristic edge, but a cape and coat and boots. They were fine and well maintained, of course, but little more could be said for the look. Despite that, Felix had a way of standing out, his narrowed eyes watching the crowd like he expected something to happen. Or maybe that was just a vain hope. “So you are back,” he said, turning to acknowledge your presence. His expression didn’t change, but his voice wasn’t exactly cold, either. You’d always felt a certain sort of understanding towards Felix. But that was probably why the two of you had never become very close, either.

“Try not to look too excited. I might get the wrong impression,” you told him, the vaguely clever retort coming out in a practiced way after the words had been properly arranged in your head. That made him smile. But there was no other reaction, no indication that he noticed the way you’d changed or the way you looked.

The previous song ended with a flourish, the next one picking up right on its tail. Laughter buzzed around the expansive room, conversation and heat filling the space.

“Do you need something?” Felix asked. He didn’t sound frustrated, more distracted.

“No,” you said. “Actually, have you seen Sylvain around?” you asked. And you tried to keep your voice casual, but something kind of cracked towards the end and you could hear the naked want in your voice which was all kinds of pathetic.

“No, I haven’t,” Felix said, seemingly blind to your slipup. Right. Felix wouldn’t notice that sort of thing.

“Is he with someone?” you asked.

Felix snorted. “I don’t know. Or care, for that matter. Why don’t you ask him?”

“If I could find him, maybe,” you muttered softly, although you knew the words were more of a cover for your nerves than anything. “What about you”

“What about me?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Felix eyed you for a second, his narrowed gaze unnervingly piercing. “Why?”

“Isn’t that what people normally ask their friends after having been away?”

“Probably,” Felix responded with a nod of understanding, but he didn’t answer.

“Right,” you eventually said, more to ease your awkwardness than anything. The person you wanted to be probably could have conjured up some way to draw Felix out of his shell, but you had no idea.

Instead, you bid him a farewell and ducked out. It was all so very anticlimactic. You’d been dreaming of the moment you’d return to court, confident and beautiful and desirable. But nobody looked at you like you wanted to be looked at, appraising you like you were worth admiring. It was like nothing had changed and that should have been comforting, but instead it just made you feel oddly weak. If you hadn’t changed in the way you thought you had, that took away the lie you’d told yourself so you didn’t feel so silly, the lie that you weren’t doing this for him. That you hadn’t returned because you were following the sweet trail of a promise made in the heady aftermath of battle and victory by tongues loosened with alcohol and intimacy ignited by the wild cocoon of a late summer night.

You wanted to be beautiful, but that wasn’t it. You wanted to be seen as beautiful. And worthy. Throughout the war, you had all remained in a half state of adulthood. Undeveloped and held back from moving forward until the war was over. That was why you had been unable to accept his proposal. One day he’d lose that mischievous affection in his eyes and you’d be left gutted and hollow and cheap. He’d realize you weren’t enough and leave you like a broken and useless toy. And things hadn’t really changed, not in the way you wanted them to have changed.

It felt like failure. Deciding to get some wintery air to calm yourself down, you abandoned your glass and reclaimed your cloak to wander outside into the garden. Most people opted to stay inside, but the weather wasn’t unmanageably cold. The tall stone walls kept the wind at bay, and the temperature wasn’t really so bad considering the heating artifices that had been set up in intervals along the paving stone walkways. You put up your hood to defend against the faint fog of the lazy snow. Mostly, though, you were just amazed by the sight that greeted you.

No flowers were cultivated at this time of year, most of Faerghus was killed by the brutal weather. To replace them, the garden was decorated with elaborate ice sculptures. Art was as rare in Faerghus as flowers were, making the sight a genuine surprise, but not an unwelcome one. It drew you out of your poor mood, giving you a much needed distraction.

Some of them depicted familiar scenes, frozen tableaus made to reflect scenes of scripture or history. Not just Faerghus history, either. All three nations were given spotlights among the icy sentinels.

The most interesting one, to you, was the ice Dimitri, standing double the height of the man himself with Areadbhar at the ready. Byleth had received similar treatment, the Sword of the Creator held high to fall on whichever unlucky individual happened to be beneath it. You wondered what the pair thought of such treatment, such deification. Either way, the sculptures were nothing short of breathtaking.

The arrival of a group of people urged you onwards, deeper into the frozen wonderland of stone and ice. It was colder as you got further away from the main plaza, the main sculptures grouped where they could be seen and admired. Darker, too, colors fading as if you were walking beyond the clustered beating heart of the celebration and into something else. Something eerie. You’d been too lost in empty ponderance to notice how far you’d walked. There weren’t any sculptures here, just ice molded into shapes to replace the empty flower beds, regular stone statues posed amidst the path. Just as you were about to turn around, the dark spoke.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that really you?”

Recognition hit you instantly like a sharp flash of late summer lightning. Even muffled through the wool of your cape’s hood, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to. Despite that, you had to turn around to be sure. Just in case. No matter how much you doubted yourself, Sylvain Jose Gautier himself stood behind you, wrapped up in a dark cloak that allowed him to nearly fade into the shadows. Only his face, as pale as you remembered, stood out in the magic light. He was smiling, shadows cast beneath his arched eyebrows and high cheekbones, his red hair both unruly and stylish at the same time. Although the finer details were lost between the darkness and distances, you were more than aware that your memories didn’t at all do him justice.

“It’s you,” you said, unable to think of anything more articulate. Even with as much as you’d anticipated this moment, you hadn’t planned for it, not like this. Actually, you weren’t even sure what you had planned for.

“Uh, yeah,” Sylvain said after a beat, grinning. “I hope you weren’t expecting someone else.”

“I wasn’t,” you said quickly. “You surprised me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said. “I’d have thought of a better ice breaker, but I wouldn’t want any of the mages to get mad at me for ruining their hard work.”

It was almost surreal. He was the same as he had been. The line was stupid, but it worked, it made your chest ache.

“Okay, I know. That one was terrible,” Sylvain said with a rueful laugh when you didn’t answer, scratching the back of his head. “Guess it’s kinda an off day for me… I didn’t know you’d be here. I mean, I heard that you were, but I wasn’t sure. Especially since it was so hard to find you.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Sylvain said. “In fact, I’m overjoyed. Although… I’d be happier if I could actually see your face. Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of mystery, but I appreciate beauty much more.”

It took a moment to register what he meant, but eventually, it dawned on you that with the only light at your back and your hood up, your face was probably entirely obscured. “Right,” you said. It wasn’t exactly the grand reveal you hoped for, but it was still something. You pulled down your hood in a way you hoped didn’t mess up your hair. Trying to remain somewhat surreptitious about it, you turned slightly, enough to catch the light better. The air was colder without the buffer of the wool, but you didn’t exactly mind it.

“Wow,” Sylvain said, his voice soft, surprised. “You look beautiful.” He looked at you in the way none of the others had, his breathy voice quiet and expression stunned. Not in the artificial way of his flirtations, but something honest and fascinated. A moment later, as if coming to his senses, Sylvain’s awe turned awkward. “What I mean is that you look stunning tonight. Not to say that you never looked nice before! ‘Cause you did, er, do. You’ve always looked beautiful, but this is different. Good different.”

“Thank you,” you said, unable to keep from the spread of a slow smile across your face, a giddy feeling making your heart jump. Nerves, doubt too. But it wasn’t so bad.

“No, really,” Sylvain insisted, his expression earnest. “I almost feel bad for the mages who set this all up. Your mere presence completely devalues any piece of art. How could anybody admire something else when you’re around?”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you said after a moment of consideration, trying to deliver the line in a properly playful way. It must have worked, because Sylvain’s face broke out into another wide grin.

“You think so?” he asked. “‘Cause if you do, maybe you’ll do me the honor of touring this little exhibition together?” Sylvain held out his arm, one of his eyebrows quirked hopefully.

“I would,” you said, jumping at the chance to give such an easily presented answer and taking his proffered arm before you could talk yourself down.

“By the way, how’d you wind up all the way down here?” he asked as the two of you retraced your way back to the main plaza.

“I guess I was distracted,” you told him, trying your very best to keep your gait normal and not look at him. It hardly made a difference. Standing so close, you could smell the wool and tanned hide of his fur trimmed cape, the deeper musk of his clothes and the body beneath them, the leather polish of his gloves. It was intimate in a quiet, still way.

“That’s it?” Sylvain pushed, expectant.

You tried to figure out what that might be before giving up. “What do you mean?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” he said. “I guess that part of you hasn’t changed.” Sylvain seemed pleased with that observation, but you weren’t. He was right, it was just like you to get wrapped up in your desire to isolate and your own thoughts and feelings. To isolate yourself.

Brushing past other couples, you and Sylvain walked and admired sculptures depicting Sothis creating the Fódlan. Serios with her sword held high, her hair and dress picked up by an unseen breeze. The Four Saints. Nemesis, the King of Liberation.

All the while, Sylvain was looking at you. The feeling was heavy even as you tried to avert your eyes onto the shining sculptures. They were marvels, genuinely, but you could barely see them for as hard as you were staring.

“Is everything all right?” you finally asked, meeting Sylvain’s eyes nervously. As much as you had craved it, you had been avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah, of course. It’s just… It seems like a waste to keep you out here all alone where nobody can admire you,” he said. “Then again, that makes me pretty lucky, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose,” you said slowly, “it depends on how you define luck,”

“Running into you?” Sylvain said. “I’d say that’s very lucky. Some might even say it’s fate.”

“That’s silly.”

“You don’t believe in fate?”

“No more than you do.”

“If it’s not fate, how is it that I seem to constantly run into you like this?” Sylvain asked, his voice and smile playful. “Face it, we’re fated to be together.”

You didn’t respond to that, trying to gauge how serious he was and coming up short of anything other than conflicted confusion.

“By the way,” Sylvain said after a moment passed, “what are you doing out here? You couldn’t have gotten dressed up like this just to admire the scenery all by yourself.”

“I was inside for a while,” you told him. “I said hello to everybody.”

“Except me.”

Did he sound a bit hurt? He was smiling, but there was an edge to his voice. “I couldn’t find you.”

“Really? Then you couldn’t have been in there very long. Are you sure that’s it?” Sylvain pushed suggestively. “You didn’t come out here to, I dunno, meet someone?”

“Obviously not,” you said carefully, holding just a bit more tightly to his arm. Not clinging, you didn’t want to think of yourself as clinging. “I’m known to be unfriendly and antisocial, it would be more out of character if I didn’t run away and hide.”

“I don’t think you’re that bad,” Sylvain said, either not picking up on your self deprecating tone or ignoring it. “Felix definitely has you beat in that regard. He’s completely hopeless.”

“If he wore a dress you wouldn’t think I was any better,” you responded, making a valiant attempt at teasing him to avoid giving in to your self pity.

It worked. Sylvain looked down at you like he was shocked, at a loss for words. “You have changed,” he said dramatically. “Ouch. You leave for a year and suddenly you know just where to hit me where it hurts. Did Ingrid tell you about that?”

“I’m just saying,” you said, skirting around that question, “that you’re biased when it comes to girls. And other feminine individuals.”

“Well, maybe,” Sylvain allowed. “But not about you. I pride myself on having enough personal experience to know firsthand how cute and charming you can be.”

“What is strange,” you said, forcing the conversation onward to ignore the way he made your stomach buzz with thousands of little butterfly wings, “is that you’re out here. Unless you’re meeting someone.”

“I was,” Sylvain said, “but I already found the girl I was looking for,”

You didn’t know what to say to that, all of your quips and clever retorts running dry, a dizzy intoxicated sort of feeling rising up into your head. Rather than answer, you pretended to be very interested in a sculpture of an eagle. It stared down at you with beady and judgmental icy eyes, it’s wings folded and posture regal.

“Anyway,” Sylvain continued, “I’ve heard that you’re in Faerghus to stay.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you responded.

“You know, I was prepared to wait way longer,” Sylvain casually noted as you continued down the line of sculptures to a lion cast in ice, his mouth forever fixed in an intimidating roar. “I had an image in my head of how I’d try to woo you as an old man. I figure that I’ll be one of those graceful old grandpas who uses a fancy walking stick and everything. Obviously, you’ll age very gracefully. Probably would have had to get the ring resized for your old lady hand, though.”

Your heart thumped, the palpitation hard enough to make your head spin.

“Um… What?” you asked in a faint voice, your arm going limp and releasing his as you stopped in your tracks. Sylvain hesitated, his feet brushing against the stone as he half turned towards you.

“Don’t you remember?” Sylvain asked, confused. “The night that the war ended, we made a promise.”

“I remember,” you said, swallowing down a lump in your throat.

“Great! So, uh, where do you think I should begin?”

“Begin what?” you asked dumbly.

His eyes narrowed, a frustrated glare that accused you of being purposefully obstinate. “Wooing you? Y’know, proving the extent of my undying love and all that.”

“Oh, that,” you said, your stomach dropping and a cold breath catching in your throat.

“Yeah, that,” he echoed, his confidence fading a bit. “If this your way of politely rejecting me, it’s okay to just say it outright. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

Winter’s unyielding touch pierced the bubble created by walls and warmth, a draft of cold air teasing your hair, slipping beneath your cloak and making you shiver. Snowflakes settled in Sylvain’s messy hair, sparkling as they caught the light.

“I don’t have anything to offer you, Sylvain,” you told him after it passed, your eyes flicking away from his to stare hard at the lion’s icy maw to keep your eyes from stinging. “I thought that if I took some time and tried, I could. I wanted to, but coming back here and everything… I am what I am.”

“And I wouldn't want you to be any different,” Sylvain said. From your periphery, you could see that he was frowning, his brow furrowed in concern. “What do you think you don’t have that I want… Or.. Or expect? I don’t mean to be crude, but I could get almost any girl I wanted. At the very least, she’d be compelled to marry me because of my-”

“Crest and title,” you filled in, your voice flat.

His lips quirked up like that was a funny thing to say, but his eyes didn’t change. “Yeah, that. I mean, that’s how it is, right? That’s the person I’ve always been told I was. The fate I accepted. Until I met you. You showed me that I can be more than that. And this past year…” He laughed dryly, a gloved hand brushing the snow from his hair nervously. “Well, to be honest, it’s been pretty miserable. But it made me think even harder about myself and about what I wanted. I’ve made my choice.”

“And what’s that?” you asked. And you knew what he meant but that knowledge was unbearably presumptuous, something you could hardly let yourself dream, let alone be given in real life. So you asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sylvain asked, “You.”

Dizzy and cold, you probably could have been knocked over by a particularly stiff breeze. “Me,” you said softly. Not a question, just an attempt to taste the word, to understand it. He didn’t even hear you.

“But…” Sylvain continued before stopping himself. He sighed, shook his head. “Now don’t get me wrong, I love the chase, but I’ll give it up if you tell me right now that you don’t want me. I can accept that. However, if there’s even the slightest chance that I can convince you that I truly, genuinely want to be with you, I’ll do anything.”

“I’m not worth all that,” you said, but your voice was hushed and cramped by your swollen throat, spoken to the ground because you couldn’t look at Sylvain and admit that. Not directly. Couldn’t he tell? Beneath the makeup and hair and dress and all of the things you’d done to grow, you were still the pathetic slip of a girl he found in that greenhouse. The same nothing girl you’d been your entire life.

“What?” he asked, taking a step towards you.

You looked up, daring to meet his dark eyes. The words hurt to say. Icicles piercing between your ribs. But you did. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You don’t deserve me?” Sylvain asked slowly, emphasizing the words as if to make sense of them. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he considered you, picking you apart with that too-keen gaze. “So all of this, the way you’ve been acting… I think I’m starting to get it. You think that you’re not enough… For me.” After saying that aloud, Sylvain laughed another humorless laugh. “Why, what makes me different?”

“Everything,” you said, speaking at a nearly inaudible hush because you didn’t trust your voice. “You’re my first friend, the only person who’s ever made me feel like I mattered. I couldn’t bear to ruin this because I…” Words weren’t your forte, they never had been. You knew that, he knew it. But you swallowed against your dry mouth so they could come out all the same, the warmth of your breath fading into the cold and carried away by the wintery air to the heavens above. “I love you.”

Sylvain didn’t react at first, staring at you in shock. Finally, just when the tension was ready to kill you, words emerged from his parted lips. “You…me…I...” He paused, then shook his head as if to clear it, to focus. “Come again?”

“I love you,” you repeated, the words coming louder now that they’d already been exposed, brittle in your mouth.

“Right…” He blinked once. Twice. “Do you remember earlier when I said that you were less hopeless than Felix?” Sylvain asked.

You nodded.

“I take it back.”

You purposefully fixed your gaze at the frosted ground with some mixture of embarrassment and nerves. Regret, too, it was tangy in your lungs. As it happened so often, you found yourself without anything to say. What were you supposed to say now that all of your damning insecurities were out in the dark winter cold? His tone was semi-playful with that last remark, but it was true. You were hopeless, you hadn’t really changed at all and now you felt like you were going to cry. Right here, in front of him, running your makeup, ruining the night-

Refusing to allow you to sink back into your own head, Sylvain grabbed your hands. Both gloved, his in leather and yours in silk. Despite that, you could feel the firmness of his grasp, remember the way his skin was calloused and rough against your own. You looked up to meet his eyes on instinct, confused and surprised by the easy way he touched you. But not displeased, not enough to shake off his grasp.

“I couldn’t bear to see you change,” Sylvain told you emphatically, his dark eyes serious and eyebrows raised. “Sure you’re a little weird sometimes and I can’t say that I always understand what you’re thinking, but I like that. I like the way that you listen to what I have to say and the way you try to understand me. Me, not my Crest or title or whatever. I like the way you smile and the playful look in your eyes when you say something clever. You’re intelligent and supportive and kind.” The words had an odd rhythm to them, like they had been practiced before but Sylvain couldn’t quite dole them out in the measured way in which they’d been composed. Each one was caressed by his voice before puffing out in a little cloud in front of his red lips, accentuated by the pleading, vulnerable cast of his eyes on yours. “I like you…” he told you, his fingers tightening around yours. “No, I love you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you how wonderful I think you are. I’ve thought up a few pretty compelling ways in this past year.”

From an outside perspective, you could imagine that you were standing as still as the lion made of ice. Rigid, your eyes wide, your lips slightly parted as if to make way for words you weren’t able to speak. In your own head, however, you just felt dizzy. Aware of the cold biting the tip of your nose and freezing your feet in their brand new fancy shoes. Your breath was held as if to retain Sylvain’s impromptu speech for a moment longer, as if you could parse out the meaning of his words just from keeping them in.

“Uh…” he finally said, frowning. “Are you okay? Maybe that was too much...”

“No!” you said, the word finally breaking through the barrier of your mind to your lips before you could rethink it. Too loud. You flinched, clearing your throat to more easily manage your voice. “N-not too much.”

Sylvain waited expectantly for more. But there wasn’t more. What were you supposed to say? How were you supposed to offer him something even halfway comparable to that confession?

“Should I give you some space?” Sylvain asked, his grip loosening around your hands.

You panicked, holding onto him tighter. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m trying to… I mean, I… I don’t know what to say.”

Slowly, hopefully, a smile tugged at the edges of Sylvain’s mouth. “Have I ever mentioned how cute you are when you’re flustered?” He seemed to ponder that for a second before adding, “Strike that, you’re always cute.” Another beat passed and his expression sobered. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to show you how wonderful you are before you decided that you’re not.”

“Don’t say that,” you told him.

He frowned, but nodded. “You’re right. All I can do now is spend the rest of my life making it up to you…. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Sylvain,” you said carefully, trying to keep your voice even so it didn’t slip away from you. “Is this a proposal?”

“Huh, well, I guess it kinda is...” He frowned. “I hate to say it but I’m completely underprepared for this. I haven’t really asked your father and I don’t even have the ring on me, also, I was envisioning more flowers. But…” He paused to compose himself before nodding resolutely. “Yes, this is me proposing marriage to you. I’d be the luckiest guy in the world if I could spend the rest of my life with you by my side.”

Like sugar in tea, everything that had been holding you back from accepting him was dissolved away. All the reasons you’d clung to so you could justify your cowardice and insecurities were dwarfed by what Sylvain was offering. Because you were weak, because you couldn’t hold onto the martyr mentality anymore. Not like this. “Okay,” you said. It was barely more than a whisper because you could feel the tears coming back, making your throat tight.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you clarified, just a bit louder. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

Sylvain smiled. It was a look you knew well, one that you had treasured since the first time you saw it. He grinned and looked at you like you were worth wanting, worth caring about. Like he’d won something grand. “You’re a girl well worth waiting for,” he told you. “Although, we do have some things to make up for. I guess we’ve got time for that, though.”

Time to make up for the seasons apart. The thought alone made you feel giddy. Overwhelmed. Like this was a dream. Maybe it was, although you couldn’t say you minded the idea too much, assuming you never had to wake up.

“Is that a promise?” you asked.

Sylvain pulled you in closer. He was warm despite the cold, he smelled good even though your nose was a bit stuffy from the tears and chill. “You’re the only girl I’ll ever want, the only girl worth looking at. I swear my heart to you.”

You blushed, looking away. “That’s-”

“Too flowery?” he butted in nervously. “Sorry, force of habit.”

“I don’t mind it,” you told him slowly, honestly. “Even though it’s embarrassing. Maybe you don’t remember but the first time we met, you told me that if we were flowers-”

“We’d have a budding romance,” he said with a wry smile. “That was bad, I know.”

“It worked,” you said. “I never told you, but it did.”

“Really?” Sylvain’s eyes widened. “I thought you hated me for the longest time.”

“Never.”

“Even when I kissed you?” he asked. “You avoided me for a while after that, I was worried I had scared you away.”

“I didn’t want you to think that I felt like you owed me something for a mistake.”

“A mistake,” Sylvain repeated, his voice twisting the idea into something ridiculous. His leather-clad hand reached up to cradle your cheek, pulling your eyes up to meet his. Playful, dancing in the dim light. “Fine, what if I kissed you now?”

Your eyes widened, flicking down to his smiling mouth. Wide, full bottom lip, constantly on the verge of a half-smirk. Sylvain was so close, it would be very easy for him to close the distance between the two of you. “If you want,” you said. His thumb brushed across your lip, making you shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. “Yes.”

It had been winter when he first kissed you. Now it was winter again and the air was cold but Sylvain’s mouth was hot, his arms wrapping you up in a scorching embrace. Whatever else you were, in that moment, you could believe that you weren’t alone. You could believe that you —nothing little you— were wanted in the only way you’d ever wished to be wanted. As yourself, as someone worth loving, a girl worth caring about. Beautiful, not in the transient way you’d always feared.

The two of you parted and your breath was quick and warm as you tried to steady it, your pulse racing. “I love you,” you murmured quietly, your eyes closed. Finally, those words felt comfortable in your mouth, like they had a right to be spoken. Sylvain laughed breathlessly, delighted, his arms still wrapped around you.

“I don’t think you have any idea how happy it makes me to hear that,” he said. “Beyond happy, actually. I didn’t think this was possible.”

“You make me happy, too,” you told him, peeking through your eyelashes to meet his eyes. Warm. Tender. Excited.

“When you smile at me like that… You know, I don’t think there’s a single more beautiful sight in the world,” Sylvain said in an unfamiliarly soft voice, his dark eyes adoring. “It almost makes me not want to share you with anyone else. What do you think about eloping?”

“Eloping?” you repeated, caught off guard.

“Yeah. Right now, tonight,” he said. “I’m sure we could find someone…”

“You’re that impatient?” you asked, halfway questioning the playful intent behind the suggestion.

“You did keep me waiting for around, what, five hundred days, give or take? It’s romantic to act with such passionate abandon.” Sylvain paused, a wicked smirk twisting up the corner of his mouth. “If we stay here too long, I might feel inclined to want you to dance with me...”

“No.”

“Not even if I ask nicely?” Sylvain asked. Although his voice was innocent enough, the way he’d raised an eyebrow and suggestively licked his lips oozed bad intent. And desire. For you. The thought was as potent as any liquor you’d ever tasted.

“No,” you repeated, your voice less firm.

“So there’s no chance I can persuade you?” he asked, leaning closer.

You opened your mouth to refuse before rethinking it, your stomach tied up in a dozen wonderful, unknown sorts of knots. “You could try.”

#sylvain jose gautier #fe sylvain #sylvain jose gautier x reader #fe sylvain x reader #FE3H #fire emblem three houses #my writing #this is just PURE cringe #i wanted to try something different dynamic-wise #i HOPE it came across well #but really this is just a reflection of my abysmal self esteem #also i'm sorry editing wise i kinda am over it

200 notes · View notes

kaitycole · 3 years

Text

dopamine and epinephrine, just don’t mix

Summary: Kuroo thinks back on his relationship with Y/N. How will those memories hold up to reality?

Pairing: Kuroo x fem!reader, Bokuto x fem!reader (platonic)

Word Count: 5351

Warnings: Angst. Toxic behaviors. Cheating allegations. Adult language.

A/N: A special thank you to @twilightwrites for this prompt.

Side note: I know the drinking age in Japan is 20, I realized as I was writing the last paragraph of this that I messed up, so we are just gonna let it slide because my head hurts lol

September – 2013

“Kuroo-san, do you understand what I’ve just explained?” He just nods, the meaning of the words is known, it’s just the weight of them that just hasn’t hit him yet. It not until he’s walking across campus, his feet dragging against the sidewalk, that the weight of his advisor’s words land on his shoulders.

You failed to maintain proper grades to continue not just in this department, but in this university. Your enrollment has been terminated.

Kuroo shakes his head, how exactly would he explain this to his grandmother? She was so proud of him for getting into university in the first place. He really was great at disappointing those he cared for lately.

* * The sidewalks are busier than he’s used to, he was always in class at this time and he ends up brushing against a few people as he maneuvers his way to the nearest convenience store. The dinging of the welcome bell draws him from the jumble of thoughts he was having. The cool air from the refrigerated unit, grabbing several cans of lemon flavored chūhai. It was cheap, didn’t taste all that great, but he didn’t care.

There are three empty cans piled next to his foot, his hand tightens around the fourth one, it caves under his fingertips. The blend of alcohol on an empty stomach has Kuroo on the verge of tipsiness.

He hears a soft laugh and feels himself stiffen when he sees (h/c) hair as his mind blanks. It’s been almost a year since he’s seen her, a flash of the malice words exchanged and the sound the door made as it was slammed crosses his mind.

Suddenly he’s self-conscious of how he looks, quickly running his fingers through his unruly hair (not that that would help) and scrabbles to pick the cans up and cram them into his bag. He doesn’t fully hear the name, but enough to know it wasn’t her, making him feel a bit ridiculous.

Dopamine: hormone and neurotransmitter that's an important part of your brain's reward system; associated with happiness and pleasure.

June – 2010

“Can you tell me where Ko-chan is?”

Kuroo turned to see an unfamiliar face staring back up at him. She tucked a stray piece of her (h/c) hair behind her ear, nervously biting her bottom lip, and Kuroo instantly thought she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. So much, that instead of answering her, he just stood there, staring.

“Bokuto-san is this way, L/N-san.” Akaashi said as he walked up behind her.

She smiled at Kuroo, apologizing for bothering him before following Akaashi over to where the rowdy ace of Fukurōdani was. Once Bokuto’s eyes fell onto the girl, he ran towards her, wrapping her into a tight hug, thanking her repeatedly for bringing his extra gym bag all the way to the training camp.

Kuroo waited until Bokuto was alone before he made his way over, trying to figure out how to work in his question. “Bokuto, who is that?” Bo looked over to Akaashi who was talking to this mystery girl before looking back at Kuroo with a sloppy grin on his face. “Why? Interested?”

Kuroo felt his head getting fuzzy, like when he held it over the edge of his bed for too long, “I was…uhm…just wondering.”

“That’s Y/N. We grew up together, but in fifth grade she moved away, just recently moved back.”

That explained why Kuroo didn’t know her even though her and Bo came off extremely close.

“She’s single.”

Kuroo felt his face start to burn, embarrassment covering it as he tried to speak, but all that came out were broken parts of a sentence. “Oh, well…I don’t…bother…just…yeah.”

** Y/N was standing in the doorway of the gym, watching as Bokuto hit down each practice set Akaashi sent his way, he truly had gotten even more powerful since they were children. She rubbed her hands against her arms, trying to warm up, she tensed when she felt a slight bit of weight on her shoulders.

She turned around to see a messy raven-haired boy standing behind her, his oversized red jacket draped over her shoulders. “Rooster boy!”

“Huh?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to really respond.

“Ko-chan told me to call you that.” She smiled up innocently at Kuroo and he felt himself get weak in the knees.

He mumbled something to the effect of ‘horned owl bastard’ underneath his breath which seemed to make her laugh just a little bit. He ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about the state of his hair.

She turned back around, eyes wide in awe as Bokuto slammed another ball onto the other side of the court, Kuroo couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like if she looked at him like that, but blocking wasn’t as flashy as spikes were and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. He turned around on his heel, getting ready to head back to where the rest of his team is.

“Are you trying to play hard to get?” “Huh?” He looked back at her, she had spun around, a devilish smirk on her smirk.

“You gave me your jacket even though you only have a t-shirt on, but you don’t tell me your name or ask if I want go somewhere to talk.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted to watch Bo play, I…uh…didn’t want to bother you.”

She slipped her arms into his jacket, zipping it up, “nah, I can see Bo play at school.”

“Did you want to go talk somewhere?” “I don’t go places with strangers.” She tilted her head, giving him a knowing look.

He shook his head, “I’m Kuroo Tetsurō, nice to meet you…?” “L/N F/N. Likewise Tetsu-chan!” She grabbed his hand, “c’mon, let’s go!”

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks as his feet moved on their own, following this mystery girl and he already knew that he was gonna have his hands full, not that he really cared.

* * December – 2010

“Y/N?”

The two of them were in Kuroo’s room, something they did often on the weekends, sometimes working on school work, other times just enjoying each other’s company. She’s flipping through a magazine, her chin rested on her palms as she looked over her shoulder at the middle blocker, a smile on her face. Kuroo was leaning against his headboard and couldn’t help but forget what he was about to say.

“Tetsu-chan?”

“Are you a carbon sample?” He smirked when she gave him a puzzled look, “because I want to date you.” Her face lit up as she pushed herself up, sitting up while crossing her legs as she faced Kuroo. “Oh! Oh! Oh! I have one too!” She clapped her hands in excitement, “you look sweeter than 3.14!”

He laughed before he shook his head, “no, Y/N, I’m asking you out.”

“You’re asking me out using a science pun?” His face went completely red, cheek burned as he rubbed the back of his head. “…yeah.”

“You’re such a dork!” She started laughing, falling over to the side as her giggles filled the now empty room. When she finally composed her, wiping the tears that had fallen down her cheeks, she smiled up at him, “but I guess that means you’re my dork.” “That a yes?” Kuroo held his breath, worried that she was about to reject him because looking back on it, it was kinda lame, even for him.

She crawled up to Kuroo side, leaning into it as he wrapped his arm around her waist, “it’s a proton positive?”

* * September – 2013

Kuroo staggers up the stairs, thankful that he only lives on the second floor of his apartment building. He drops his bag near the door while he kicks off his shoes as he makes his way to the closet in his room.

The apartment is pretty bare for someone to be living there. The furniture that’s there is just what’s needed, the bare minimum through the apartment. A bed and night stand in the bedroom, couch and TV in the living room area and the only reason he had a TV stand was because Kenma almost had a heart attack when he saw Kuroo had it sitting on the floor.

Y/N was supposed to decorate it, that had been their deal when the subject of moving in together came up. The plan was to get an apartment between the universities they had planned to attend and she could decorate it however she wanted, all Kuroo cared about was getting to come home to her. But it was obvious that day never happened, they didn’t even make it searching for apartments together before things fell apart and Kuroo picked an apartment closest to his school.

He’s rummaging through the bedroom closet before pulling out an old tin box, the kind that trading cards come in. Wiping off the thin layer of dust that has accumulated on the top, he slowly opens it, a flood of emotions washes over him.

* * March – 2011

“Y/N seems really happy.” Bo said, the three of them had all met up to see a movie that recently released.

Kuroo was happy that his girlfriend and best friend were also close, it made things a lot easier and he didn’t have to worry about them getting along, even if they had technically known each other longer. “I hope she is, I’d do anything for her.”

“What are you two whispering about?” She snuck up behind them, popcorn in hand, placing her chin on Kuroo’s shoulder.

“Guy stuff.”

“Laaame!” She shook her head, walking towards the theatre where their movie was playing, “we’re gonna miss the trailers!”

** “Where to next?” She looked between the boys, eager to keep their night going.

“I should probably head back, I don’t want to worry my grandparents.” Kuroo glanced at the time on his phone, he knew the movie might run late but he didn’t think they’d be out this late. He felt bad as he watched her face drop, clearly not the answer she was expecting.

“Yeah, it is getting a bit late.” Bokuto agreed with a slight shrug.

Y/N dragged her feet along the sidewalk, her shoulder dropped which caused both boys to share a look.

“Is this about what we talked about earlier?” Bokuto asked, pulling her into a side hug.

Kuroo looked between them, curiosity filling him as he tries to think if she told him anything that was bothering her, but he can’t. “What did you two talk about?” She shook her head, “it’s nothing.” She looked up at him, giving him a small straight smile.

Part of him wanted to ask her again, to get her to open up and talk to him about it because it was bothering her then it bothers him, but he didn’t. He tried to find comfort in the fact that at least she could tell Bo about it, at least she had someone, but it still hurt that that someone wasn’t him.

* * May – 2011

It had bothered Kuroo for weeks now that it seemed Y/N was confiding more and more into Bokuto that she was him. He was her boyfriend, he was the one she should be going to, right? Then why was she continuously going to their friend?

His irritation started to splinter into other aspects of his life, tests that he should’ve passed he didn’t, blocks he should’ve made he missed, but the boiling point came when Fukurōdani played Nekoma and she came decked out in Fukurōdani colors, cheerfully talking to Bo and his team. He knew it shouldn’t bug him like it was, she attended that school, but what still pissed him off were the comments he heard as they walked by the team.

Comments from other team members and what seemed like potential classmates of theirs repeatedly saying different variations of how cute her and Bo looked together, what a great couple they’d make and the way that she would hang onto Bo’s side.

The game was long, Kuroo spend half the game lost in his anger and the other half moving on auto-pilot as his body seemed to move on its own. Somehow Nekoma ended up winning, but that didn’t change the way he felt as he practically stormed off the court towards the locker room. He understood how important Bo was to her, that they were best friends and had been for longer than he knew either of them, but that didn’t alleviate the anger that radiated off of his shoulders nor did it stop him from slamming the doors he walked through.

“Tetsu-chan!”

He didn’t stop, just continued to walk down the hallway and toward the main entrance, acting as though he’s the only one there.

“Tetsu-chan!” She reached out, pulling his duffle bag’s strap back towards her.

He refused to turn around, having a feeling that he’d lash out and he didn’t want to do that. He needed space, time to cool down, he didn’t want to give her the ultimatum of him or Bo and he had a feeling if he opened his mouth, that’s what he’d say.

She looked at his back, unsure of why he was so upset, his team had just won, shouldn’t he be more excited? “For someone who just won, you’re acting like emo Bo.”

Kuroo’s eye twitched, just hearing her compare him to Bo so effortlessly was painful and caused his thoughts to spiral. Did she want to be with him? Would she rather be with Bo? He clenched his fist, hating the way he felt and hating himself more for feeling that way. He hated the ugly jealousy that wrapped around his chest, weaving around his lung, making it harder to breathe as it tightened. He yanked his bag strap away from her, leaving her standing there as he stormed out.

** A few weeks went by and communication between Kuroo and Y/N was awkward and basic, simple “hello’s” and “yeah, you?” filled most of their exchanges. It all came down to Bo inviting both of them over to his place and essentially locking them in his room, forcing them to talk to each other.

“Tetsu-chan.” She bit down on her lip, tears filled her eyes, the reality of how distant they had grown weighed down the atmosphere, “are we breaking up?” “What?” His head snapped up, finally looking her. He didn’t want to break-up, he wasn’t even mad anymore, he just didn’t know how to get back to where they were. It felt weird to just try to just back in as if nothing had ever happened.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if creating a wall between them, an attempt to brace herself from the pain that seemed to be coming. She tried her hardest to keep her lip from quivering. “’Cause this is a very shitty way of doing that. You could’ve just called.”

He wasn’t sure what was going on, she didn’t look like she wanted to break up, but she sounded like she was ready for one. What sense did that make? The room almost felt hostile, “so I look like the guy that’d break up over the phone, is that what you think of me?” “Did I say that? No. But it’d be better than dumping me in Bo’s room!”

“I didn’t say I wanted to break up!”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“You hurt my feelings!” Kuroo voice raised a bit louder than it had been, both of them pausing in their spot. The tension immediately disappeared and she slowly walked up to him, an adorable pout on her face.

She threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest, “I’m so sorry!” “It’s fine, it’s stupid anyways.” He rubbed circles on her back, pulling her in closer to him.

She protested, claiming anything that bothered him couldn’t be stupid and demanded that he tell her and he did. That he knew it was rather silly to be jealous of her supporting her school, but it made him wonder if she was embarrassed to say she was with him. That he knew it was important for her to have friends and he was glad Bo was one, but she wanted her to see him as someone she could go to in the same she could to Bo because as lame as it sounded, he didn’t like feeling like the odd man out.

She reassured him that it was nothing like that and told him that she saw where he was coming from. She told him that if the roles had been reversed, she would’ve definitely felt the same way that he had and that they both needed to work on their communication skills because they both agreed neither of them wanted what they had to end.

They walked out of the room together, holding hands and Bo looked excited to see they worked things out, wrapping them both in a huge hug. Kuroo thought he felt confident in what she said to him, but then he saw how she seemed to just naturally gravitate towards Bo even when he was there and that sinking feeling he had weeks ago at their game came back, this time plowing into him like a wrecking ball.

* * September – 2013

Kuroo accidentally kicks the box as he staggers to stand up, the memories proving to be a bit too much for him. But something in him made him want to see the task through, to see everything that he was holding on to, but to do that he needed alcohol.

His phone starts to vibrate in his pocket, he takes it out immediately pressing the button on the side to silence it then presses it again to send it to voice mail. Kuroo knows who it is, it’s the only person who would be calling him: Kenma.

He opens the fridge, pulling out what few cans of beer he has before shuffling back to his room, flopping down in the stop that’s still warm from him sitting there just moments ago. He puts his phone on floor near him, glancing at the screen as it lights up from a text notification.

Kenma: Missed Call (4) Text Message (15)

Technically he had no reason to avoid his best friend, but he didn’t feel like he deserved Kenma’s kindness because all he had done lately was mess things up. He didn’t want Kenma to tell him everyone messes up and he can fix things since he knew that it was too late to do any of that now.

He pulls out a small pile of printed photographs, some printed out on the mini polaroid paper from the camera she wanted for her birthday. She was his first serious relationship, between school and volleyball he never really gave dating much thought, but it was different with her. She kept him on his toes, made him want to be better, he really could see a future with her, but he screwed it up and now all he had were these pictures.

Pictures that ranged from dates to study sessions, from volleyball games to random adventures through Tokyo. Looking at them made him wonder if she kept the matching ones? Did she have a box too?

A bit of beer splatters when he cracks open the tab and he frantically wiped the picture across his thigh, drying it but smearing the liquid across the photo. He wanted to believe that he tried hard enough to make things work, that he gave it his all, but when he thought back to that night, her words told him differently.

Epinephrine: surges at panic/emergency; provokes stress response— brings out arousal of extreme emotions like fear and anger.

January— 2012

“It’s really not that big of a deal!” She said for the fourth time within the last five minutes, but Kuroo wasn’t listening.

“It is!” He shook his head, pacing her bedroom, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to control what he said if he sat down, he needed to walk this anger out of him.

“He was the first person I saw, Tetsu.” She really didn’t mean anything by telling Bokuto she had been accepted into her top two choices for college, he literally happened to be the first person she saw after getting the news. They’d been dating for two years and he still got jealous when it came to Bo and she wasn’t sure why.

“You just don’t get it.” He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to even out his breathing, he really didn’t want to fight with her.

“You’re right, I don’t. I don’t get why my boyfriend gets so upset when I tell my best friend things.”

“Because you told him first! I should know first!”

She snorted, “this is stupid. I mean honestly you sound like a child.”

“A child, nice.” He grabbed his jacket from her desk chair, shoving passed her as he walked down the hall before slipping on his shoes and going right out the front door.

She followed him, yelling at him to stop, yanking on his arm when she finally catches up. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there as she repeatedly apologized, tightly wrapping her arms around his torso.

“I don’t know why I get so jealous.” He sounded defeated and he was, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t place why he felt so threatened by Bo. Maybe it was because he knew her longer, knew parts of her that he didn’t or maybe it’s because deep down he just didn’t feel like he deserved her.

“I know.” She buried her face into his chest, still hugging him. She believed that he didn’t know why he felt that way, but she was still tired of dealing with it, regardless of how much she loved him.

* * April – 2012

It was the weird time between graduation and university getting ready to start, Y/N was over at Kuroo’s, his room now filled with boxes. Things didn’t bounce back to normal the way it did before when she thought they were breaking up, after their latest fight things were kinda awkward. They still hung out, but it was mostly just them sitting in the same room both engaged in something alone.

Kuroo looked over when he heard her giggle, raising an eyebrow before humming.

“Yukie sent the group chat some pictures from graduation.” She handed her phone to him, scooting a bit closer so they could look together.

Most of them were harmless, to be fair they were all harmless, but Kuroo started to question them as they went through them. There were ones of Y/N with Yukie and Kaori and some with various team members. Then they got to ones with Bo and both of them stiffened, neither had mentioned him unless they had to since their last fight. There were ones with Bo hanging on an unamused looking Akaashi, but the one that Kuroo hated was one of Bo next to Y/N, his hand “too low” on her hip for his liking.

He pushed himself off his bed, trying to calm down, but he knew this time he wouldn’t be able to.

“Tetsu, it was just a picture.”

He made an annoyed sound, something between a scoff and a laugh, as he shook his head. “He didn’t have to put his hand on your hip like that.”

She rolled her eyes, “it’s just a stupid pose. Everyone does it!” She flipped through the pictures, zooming in on Yukie’s arm that was wrapped around her waist, “see! Look! Her arm is around me, that make you mad too?” “It’d be different if you weren’t practically begging Bo to fuck you!”

The words hung heavy between them, for Kuroo it was a weight of his shoulders to get the words out but for Y/N, it knocked the wind out of her lungs. They were supposed to look at apartments today, find one to live in together while going to college, but a fight like this wasn’t in the plans. At least not for her, she was hoping that they could mend things and start over since they’d be moving away from Bo.

“W-w-what?” Her face was scrunched up in disbelief, the words still not being fully processed.

“I mean the way you flaunt yourself in front of him in that skirt!”

“Skirt?” Her face went deadpan, “you mean my fucking school uniform?”

28 months, they’d been together for over two years and she couldn’t he said that to her, couldn’t believe that he felt that way. Tears started to fill her eyes, for months she walked on pins and needles, carefully edited her words around him and now she had to hear the person she loved the most say the worse kind of words to her.

“You know what I mean! Don’t twist my words!”

“I’m not and I can’t believe you!” She wiped the tears from her face aggressively, “I have done nothing to cause you to feel this way!”

“I’m just making it up? It’s just in my head?” “YES! Bo is our best friend. Friends, that’s all we have ever been!” She started to look around the room, trying to find the sweatshirt she brought with her, she couldn’t have this fight again.

“Friends don’t act like you two do.”

“Boyfriends don’t act like you do!” She took three steps towards Kuroo to grab her sweatshirt before she turned and walked towards his door. She hesitated, thinking Kuroo would call out to her, but he doesn’t, instead he just let her leave.

* * July – 2012

They didn’t get a shared apartment like they had planned to. Kuroo stayed in Tokyo while YN moved to Kyoto, choosing a completely different university than she originally intended. For most of their first semester in university they barely spoke at all, neither really making it a point to reach out. Ironically, if it wasn’t Bokuto they wouldn’t have known how the other was doing, how the other was dealing with the upgrade from high school to college.

Then Bokuto mentioned a Fukurōdani vs Nekoma game, invited both of them and both eagerly accepted. Which lead to a very awkward game, each sitting on the opposite side of Bokuto, who was far too busy cheering on his old team to notice. Bokuto ran off after the game, Akaashi had called, leaving the two to awkwardly walk home.

They get close to her house, both lingering on the sidewalk, kicking imaginary rocks to act as if they had something keeping them outside.

“Y/N, I’m –“

“I think we should break up.”

“Y/N, I –”

“No. I don’t want to hear any excuses anymore. I tried so hard to make this work, but what you said to me hurt Kuroo, it really hurt.”

Kuroo. When was the last time she called him that?

“I never did anything to make you think those things, I wouldn’t do that. I really did love you, but I can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy.”

* * September – 2013

It had been over a year and he stilled kicked himself for not saying anything to her that night, for letting her walk away without even trying to hold onto their relationship. But that night he discovered that everything he thought about them was a lie. He thought that he had been trying to keep them together, that he had been trying his hardest to be a good boyfriend, but he was the one who tore them apart. He was the one who got it in his head that she was acting a way that he knew she wasn’t, he knew that Bo was just her friend and what made it even worse was after their break-up, Bo and Akaashi announced their relationship.

Not only did he lose his girlfriend, the only girl he’d ever loved, but she eventually told Akaashi what happened and when Bo found out, he was livid. Even Akaashi hadn’t seem Bo as mad as he was when he called and told off Kuroo for ever thinking that about him and Y/N. Maybe all of this was what he deserved, he had been truly awful as a boyfriend and a friend, but even with that awareness, he still missed her. Still wanted her back, wanted to truly be able to fix things with her because he knew he could be better given one more chance.

* * October – 2013

Being back at home isn’t as bad as Kuroo built it up in his head to be. His grandparents weren’t thrilled that he wasn’t going to finish up this semester, but he promised them after some time, after he could clear his head, he would go back.

He picked up a part-time job at a convenient shop, just needing something to force him out of his thoughts because somehow being back at home was even worse than being alone in his apartment. Even though he knew she was hours away, it didn’t stop him from almost breaking his neck to see if every girl passing with (h/c) was her. He hadn’t seen her up close since their breakup, so he didn’t know if she had long, short, buzzed hair, hell he didn’t even know if she had colored it differently.

“You didn’t forget my (favorite flavor) tea, did you?”

Kuroo stops in the middle of ringing up a customer at the sound of a familiar voice. Over the last year and a half, he swore he had heard it several times, but this time he is positive that it’s her. He looks up just in time to see her smiling at someone that the aisle is preventing him from seeing and he feels his heart thump into his chest.

He wants to step away from the register, to tell them to just give him a moment, that’s all he needs with her to try to get her to just hear him out, but there’s a pretty long line and she disappears deeper into the store.

“Kuroo?”

He looks up from ringing up the few items that were placed on the counter and it was her. Her in person, not in his dreams or random memories that flooded his mind when was alone. He wanted to ask her to wait for him, to give him just a few minutes to talk to him, but the person next to her wrapped his arm around her and his heart sank.

“Are you on break from school?” She tilts her head to the side.

“Just thought I’d take some time off, clear my head.” He told them the total price, the mystery man handing him the amount. “What about you?” She clears her throat, shifting a bit awkwardly which isn’t missed on either man. “Bo invited us to celebrate him signing to a pro team.” “Ah. So this is…” The man quickly introduces himself, Kuroo doesn’t bother to catch his name, but the title he gives himself sticks in his mind: boyfriend. He wants to be mad, how could she just move on like that? How could she just forget everything they had and start over with this…guy?

“We should get going, Y/N.”

“It was nice seeing you.” She gives him a small polite smile, taking the man’s hand as they walked out of the store. But she pauses before going through the door and for a brief moment Kuroo holds his breath, hoping she’ll tell him she wants to talk. She doesn’t, instead she shakes her head with a small laugh and follows her boyfriend outside.

That’s the moment Kuroo realizes that he no longer has a place in her life to go back to, that no matter how hard and tightly he holds onto the memories they made, he would never get her back. And that realization shook Kuroo to his core.

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

Interested in more? --> Masterlist

#haikyuu!!#hq kuroo #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x reader #kuroo x female reader #kuroo angst #hq angst #tw angst #tw toxic behavior #tw cheating allegations #tw mentions of cheating #tw adult language #tw cussing #tw: anger #kuroo tetsuro x reader #platonic bokuto x reader #hq bokuto x reader #bokuto x reader are friends

131 notes · View notes

clouditae · 4 years

Text

First Love | Prologue

Word: 2.4k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

You drag your suitcase up the first flight of stairs, always hating the fact that you're not first to pick rooms when it comes to the date. Your roommate has an earlier time when it comes to picking a room, and she never picks the first floor. You only have one more flight until you reach the second floor, but you are tired from having to carry all your luggage up the stairs from the rental car you are going to have to return tomorrow. If only your parents weren’t so far away.

“Do you need some help?” a voice asks from behind you, startling you.

You almost drop your suitcase if it weren’t for the figure behind you stopping it from falling back down the stairs. “I’m so sorry,” you say, taking the suitcase back from the stranger.

He laughs. “I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t know you had not heard me walk up the steps. I should be louder.”

“No, it’s okay,” you begin, finally looking at him and all words are forgotten, “I’m…” He has an oval shape like head, his red beanie, that hid his dark blond hair, stood out compared to his sun kissed skin. When he smiles at you, his chestnut colored eyes almost disappear. He’s wearing a gray sweatshirt and dark gray sweats that are cut to his knees. “I’m the one who is walking slow,” you finally manage, forcing yourself to stop staring.

“It’s move in day. Everyone is slow when it comes to moving. No one wants to unpack,” he answers, following you up the rest of the stairs until the two of you reach the second floor. You turn to face him, unsure of what else to say. You aren’t a very social person. “What floor do you live on?” he suddenly asks.

“This one.”

He smiles again, this one bigger than the last. “I do, too. Maybe we’ll see each other around,” he tells you, sounding so friendly it makes you question if he is being honest or humoring you. You nod, not sure as to what the best reply is. “Well, it was nice meeting you…”

Understanding the way he trailed off, you answer, “Y/N.”

“Ah. Y/N. Nice to meet you, I’m Hoseok.” He extends his hand out towards you.

You slowly took his hand sputtering, “Nice to meet you as well.”

He points at the door next to the other flight of stairs that led to the third floor. The direction you’re going. “I’m headed that way.”

You honestly don’t want to say it, but you reply, “Me too.”

“Really? Are we hallmates?” he questions, his voice showing signs of excitement.

“I suppose we are,” you acknowledge.

“That’s exciting.” You watch as Hoseok opens the door that leads you to the center hall, gesturing for you to enter first. You thank him and enter the hallway. He walks alongside you as the two of you walk a short distance until he stops at the first set of doors. He points to the second door closest to the exit towards the stairs. “This is me,” he begins, patting his pockets, “I hope to see you around, Y/N.” He frowns as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just realized I never grabbed my key off my desk when I left earlier,” he chuckles, knocking on his door. Immediately the door swings open, and you thought you felt your heart stop. He looks as if he had just woken up. His jet black hair disheveled, eyes barely open, and his lips in a little pout. The corner of his black, short sleeved shirt lifted as he rubbed his eye. “You’re awake,” Hoseok says in delight.

“Well you were knocking so damn loud,” he grumbles in a gravelly voice.

“It wasn’t that loud,” Hoseok protests.

Before Yoongi can argue, a familiar voice calls out, “There you are, Y/N. I thought you died or something.” Coming out of your own little world, your attention is now on your best friend, and roommate, Ari. “I finished unpacking a while ago, so I made your bed for you.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Hoseok interrupts, “You’re our neighbor?” You can only nod, eyes meeting Yoongi briefly before looking at Hoseok. “That’s even better! Our chances of seeing each other are a lot higher.”

“I should go,” you mumble, heading down as you quickly walk towards Ari.

“Bye, Y/N,” Hoseok calls.

You wave and enter your dorm, the door closing behind Ari as you set your luggage on your bed. Your heart is racing, cheeks most likely a blush color. “What’s up with you?” Ari asks, climbing into her bed as she watches you place a hand over your heart.

“It’s him,” you reply in a whisper.

“Who?”

You look at her, her strawberry blond hair coming loose from her bun. “Him.”

You can see the cranks working in her eyes before they light up in realization. “Oh, you mean your crush for two years?”

“He has a name you know,” you remind her.

Watching her as she places her finger to her rosy cheek. “Ah, yes. Fuckboy Yoongi,” she avows.

“He is not a fuckboy,” you object.

“Have you heard the rumors about him? If he’s our neighbor, then those rumors are about to be confirmed soon enough,” Ari implies.

“They’re just rumors.”

Ari sighs, “I just don’t want your feelings to get hurt if they are true.”

“They won’t,” you promise her.

With that, you continue to unpack, listening to your roommate complain about a professor she hasn’t met yet. She rants long after you have finished packing and the two of you are making your way downstairs to the dining hall to grab dinner. When the two of you enter the dining hall, you wait in line as the woman behind the counter takes the student’s ID and swipe it along the card reader. The line goes from four, and four goes to one. When the woman gives the card back to the person in front of you, you hand her your ID.

“He is making us write three essays, and they’re only worth 13% of our grade,” Ari whines, handing her ID after you received yours back. “Our midterm and final are worth more, and you know I suck at taking tests. I’m not going to pass this class. I can already feel it.”

The two of you enter the separate room where the food is displayed. A salad bar in the center, drinks to the right, and sweets to the left. Different types of foods are shown everywhere else.

“What class is this?” you ask her, grabbing a plate from the stack by the salad bar.

“Psycho,” she cries, taking a plate you hand her. “I actually have to show up to every class, participate, and probably kiss his ass a little so he knows I’m desperate.”

You giggle. “I’m sure you’ll be fine, Ari. You passed syntax last semester.”

“And I did everything I had just told you. Maybe a little more. Hell, I even laughed at his jokes I didn’t understand,” Ari tells you before she wanders off to the direction where the pasta is. You follow in suit, eyes on the fettuccine alfredo. “Guess I’ll just have to read the textbook more than once.”

“Have faith in yourself,” you tell her, handing your plate to the server who places a spoonful of pasta on it before giving it back.

“I guess,” she sighs, taking her plate and drags her feet towards the salad bar, clearly disappointed with her decision to take the class.

You don’t bother comforting her and instead you grab a bottle of water. Entering the dining room once again, you scan the area for an empty table. In the back of the room, you can see an empty table in the corner. Ari walks up next to you, letting out a sigh. “School sucks.”

You laugh, gesturing towards the table you found. “Let’s eat.” Leading her past the occupied tables, you set your food down, taking a seat. “You’ve passed all your classes before. You can pass this class, too. Have more faith in yourself, Ari,” you point out.

Ari hums in response as the two of you eat in a comfortable silence. Your eyes wander around the room, watching as everyone sits at their tables and happily chats with one another. You’ve been living in the dorms for three years and you aren’t all that social like everyone else was. You watch as they greet one another as they pass by. It’s like they all know each other, and all you know is Ari. She’s been your friend and roommate for three years, and you wouldn’t trade her for the world.

“If it isn’t my favorite neighbor,” a voice calls. You look up to see Hoseok smiling down at you as he holds a plate of food in his hand. “Mind if I join you guys?”

You glance at Ari who only shrugs. “Sure,” you say.

He smiles, taking a seat next to you. “My roommate wouldn’t come eat with me, and I didn’t want to be by myself. I’m lucky I saw you guys,” he says, taking a bite of his pizza. He looks at Ari. “Ah. Right.” He sticks his hand out towards her. “I’m Hoseok.”

Ari smiles, shaking his hand. “Ari.”

“Well, Ari. Y/N. There’s a party happening on the third floor if you guys want to come. It’s several rooms that are having it, but it’s one big one,” he says, taking a bigger bite of his pizza. “Plus it’ll be nice to have someone I know there. Even if I only met you two today.”

“A party? I am so in,” Ari says, an excited smile on her face. “You going, Y/N?”

You shake your head. “I need to fix my camera,” you tell her, giving her a small, apologetic smile.

“Camera? Is that a hobby?” Hoseok asks, finishing his first pizza.

You shake your head again. “Major.”

“Oh, really? You must be a pro at it.”

“I’m really not,” you reply sheepishly, your face flushing.

“She’s lying. She’s really good at it,” Ari tells Hoseok, dismissing your comment. You kick her under the table, but she ignores you completely. “I’ll show you some time.”

“No one will be showing anything,” you state in a threatening tone but it doesn’t come out all that threatening. They clearly don’t take you seriously, but say nothing more about it.

By the time you’re done eating, you and Ari are in your room, Ari is currently deciding which dress she likes more. You watch her as she switches between dresses, each hovering over her body as she tilts her head to the side in question. “Which looks better on me?” she asks you, her eyes meeting yours through the closet mirror.

“Why are you dressing up? Isn’t it just a party upstairs?” you question.

“It is just a party upstairs, but it’s a party where I plan to find a boyfriend. A better one than my ex,” she says. “Now which one do you think looks better?”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “The black one. It makes your hair stand out compared to the red one.”

She smiles at you. “I knew I could trust your opinion.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not a fashion designer, and it’s common sense.”

“Either way, you’re the expert.” Ari walks to the bathroom door in the corner of the room next to the sink. She gives a quick knock before entering the bathroom. You’ve known her for three years now, and you still find it funny how the two of you change in the shared bathroom rather than in front of each other. You guess it was a habit by now.

A minute or so later, Ari comes out of the bathroom wearing the black dress you picked out. It’s a form-fitting dress, the straps as big as your index finger. The dress fits her curves perfectly, showing all that she has to give. Sometimes you wish you had her confidence in wearing such a dress, but then again you’re perfectly fine in your seaweed green sweats and big, black shirt that can pass as a dress.

“And you’re sure that if you bend over, nothing will show?” you ask in concern, staring down at how short the dress was.

“I’ve bent over quite a few times, so no, nothing will be revealed.” She glances at you as she slips on her heels. “Would you like to confirm?”

You shake your head. “I trust you.” Ari does a quick lookover in the mirror before grabbing her room key and phone. “Have fun, and be safe,” you tell her as she opens the door.

“Don’t work too hard on your camera,” she says before leaving you alone in the room.

You can hear the clicks of her heels against the floor until you can no longer hear her. Stretching your arms out, you stare at the camera that lies on your desk. You honestly don’t want to work on it. At least, not tonight when you’re already in bed and all you have to do is switch off the light and close your eyes. You think for a second or two before finally deciding to just go to sleep. Today has been a long day of unpacking, and going to sleep before having to wake up to go to some mandatory meeting sounds a lot better with each passing second.

Switching the light off next to your bed, you get under your covers and lie there in silence, counting sheep. So much has happened today, and the one that repeats in your head the most is that Yoongi is your neighbor.

Yoongi. The guy you’ve had a crush on for three years now is your neighbor. That means a possible opportunity to talk to him. Especially now that Hoseok seems to want to be friends, maybe you’ll see Yoongi a lot more now.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a light tapping sound on the wall next to you. It’s a rhythmic tapping sound. Then slowly, ever so slowly, the light tapping turns louder and harder, and with that loud pounding sound, a girl's voice can be heard.

You lie in bed frozen.

“I just don’t want your feelings to get hurt if they are true.”

#bangtanuniversity #thebtswritersclub #bangtanhq #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi au

299 notes · View notes

reidgraygubler · 3 years

Text

play date (jennifer jareau/reader)

Title: Play Date

Request: no

Couple: Jennifer Jareau/Gender-Neutral!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warning: allusions to parents death, mentions of a parent walking out, swearing (if any), single parenthood, tbh i don’t really know what else to tag. It’s just straight (or gay) fluff.

Word Count: 3,028

Summary: JJ brings her kids to the park where she meets Reader, who brought her kids to play. The pair’s kids become fast friends, as for Reader and JJ? That’s a whole different story.

A/N: this is my first time writing for jj. please enjoy it bc im big soft for her rn (i will also say that about luke too)... this is day four of my 7fics 7days event for 1.2k followers ! Here is the masterlist for that! And here’s my main masterlist! Thank you all for the love and support!

also, thank you to @reidetic for proof reading this :)))

{***}{***}{***}

It was a normal day, right? I mean, that’s what I thought. My kids and I walked to the park after some chores, and after lunch. Nice fresh air, playing in the park, talking to other parents. Do people actually do that? Talking to other parents in the park? It’s been a while since I’ve actually gone to the park with my kids…

"Make sure you’re safe. And, if you need me, I’ll be sitting here," I pointed to the bench that held my backpack. My daughter looked up at me and nodded before running off. My son on the other hand was a little bit more apprehensive of leaving my side to go play. Part of me wondered if it had to do with all the other kids running around, playing with one another.

"What’s up, Buddy? Didn’t you want to come to the park?" I looked at him as I squatted to his height. He looked up at me and shrugged, not really telling me what was wrong. "Oh, c’mon, we’ve been to this park before." I sighed and looked at him while I gently ruffled his hair.

"Your sister wants to play with you, go on." I looked towards the park where my daughter was currently playing. It was a relief seeing her playing with the other kids, not by herself. But she was always quick to make new friends and play with new people. So it wasn’t that big of a surprise.

"Your son can play with my boys if he wants," a woman looked at me with a smile. I looked away from my child and towards a blonde woman who had two boys standing beside her. They looked to be about my son's age.

"You wanna play with them?" I looked back at my boy, resting a hand on his shoulder. I watched as he looked over at the two new boys, his little eyebrows furrowed together as his lips pouted out a bit. "C’mon they won’t bite."

"Well, Michael might…" the woman laughed as she looked between me and my boy. I looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. "They like playing superheroes," she was quick to add, clearly realizing her mistake.

"You love superheroes! You could be X-Men!" I clapped my hands together. My son looked up at me with furrowed eyebrows and shook his head. Over by the blonde woman I could hear her boys talking about something. I looked over at the three and raised an eyebrow. "Did I say something wrong?" I looked back at my son. He just looked at me, his eyes just staring at me like I did, indeed, say something wrong.

"How about," the woman spoke, looking between my boy and I, and then down at her boys, "You three go play superheroes, and when you’re all done, come back to us," she folded her arms over her chest as she looked down at the 3 boys. My son looked up at me with a cocked eyebrow, silently asking if I was totally fine with him going with 2 strangers.

"It’s okay, go on. I’ll be here. Have fun," I winked at him before standing upright myself. He looked over at the two other boys before running off with them.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," I laughed as I moved my backpack to the ground, before I sat on the bench.

"They love making new friends. But they can be a little… shy," she laughed as she stepped closer to the bench, "I would do anything for them," she smiled and nodded.

"Please, you can sit beside me." I chuckled as I gestured towards the empty space beside me.

"Jennifer… Jennifer Jareau," she smiled at me as she sat down beside each other on the park bench. I looked at her and nodded. "But you can call me JJ,"

"It’s nice meeting you, JJ," I smiled before giving her my name, "How old are your boys?" I looked over at the playground and spotted our boys playing together. It didn’t look like they were playing superheroes like JJ and I had both thought. It looked like they were playing pirates or something else.

"Henry is 9 and Michael just turned 6," JJ smiled at me as I looked back at her. "What about yours? How old is he?" she asked, looking out at all the kids.

"He just turned 5 a few months ago. And my daughter is 10," I smiled and nodded. I looked back out at the playground, looking for my daughter. She was by the slide, talking with one of the other girls.

"Oh, and you have a daughter?" JJ asked as she followed my gaze to the girl in question. "Well, they both look just like you."

"Well, they definitely don’t have my eyes and nose," I laughed and shook my head. JJ looked back at me with a cocked eyebrow. "And I swear my little boy has their personality too."

"He certainly is adorable," JJ laughed as she looked around at the playground. She laughed once she looked at our boys. I was impressed that my son was actually playing instead of just sitting to the side by himself. To be honest, I don’t remember the last time he played with other kids his age. It was a nice change to see for him. He looked like he was having fun, and that’s all that mattered.

"My little king," I laughed lightly as I looked back at JJ. I noticed she was looking between me and our kids. "Do you come to this park often?"

"Not as often as I’d like. Work can get busy, and then school gets busy," I relaxed my body as I sat back more on the bench.

"Amen to that," JJ raised her eyebrows as she spoke. Her smile was genuine, and I enjoyed looking at it. It gave me a certain joy I hadn’t had in a while. It made me smile.

"What is it you do for a living? Surely it can’t be too bad," I laughed as I turned to face her more. She copied my movement and faced me too.

"I… I actually work for the FBI," she kept her voice low so no one around could hear our conversation. I looked at her with wide eyes. And suddenly every little bad thing I’ve ever done came to my mind. The one time I ran a red light because I didn’t want to be late. Or, the one time I stole a chocolate bar when I was a teenager. Or, when I cut someone off on the freeway.

"The-the FBI… Great," I nodded as I looked down at my hands. "Beats my media manager job," I laughed again as I looked up at her.

"Don’t worry. Media manager sounds like a great job," JJ smiled at me, reaching over to hold my hand. I looked at her and nodded.

"FBI sounds even cooler. I bet it’s terrifying," I swallowed roughly as I looked at her.

"Sometimes it can be. It’s the thrill of the chase that keeps me going." Her laughter was like cotton candy: sweet and light and fluffy. I couldn’t help but smile again.

"I would have guessed it was the boys that kept you going. But, I supposed the FBI does do that to someone," I looked down at her hand, which was still holding mine. I could feel my heart rate pick up slightly as I looked down at our hands. I wonder if she knew she was still holding mine.

"Yeah, I suppose I do have to try to keep up with those boys," she laughed, again, before looking over at our kids. I furrowed my eyebrows before nodding slowly.

"Surely their dad must be a load of help, while you’re at work," I asked about her husband/partner without actually asking about him. She looked back at me and cringed slightly. "Oh… I’m so sorry," I whispered before dropping my gaze from her face.

"It’s okay. Really, it's fine," she pulled her hand from mine and waved it off. Part of me sensed that she didn't want to talk about it. And, that was okay.

If it was the same situation as me, if they just walked out? Or if he was ever a part of his kids lives… Did he die? And, if so how? Was he a police officer who got killed on duty? Or was he incredibly sick? It was a bit of a touchy subject. That was until she asked...

"What happened to their…” she started as she looked over at me. “If you don’t mind me asking?" JJ looked at me. And I could feel her big blue doe eyes starting into my spoiler soul. I looked at her and shrugged.

"Oh, uh, not in their lives anymore," I sighed before looking towards the playground, "It was just after our son was born too..." I shrugged, leaving my statement as vague as possible so I wouldn’t have to explain that we were left for another person.

"Oh goodness, I’m sorry," she looked at me, gently resting a hand on my lap. I looked down at her hand and felt my heart rate spike again.

I think she was able to figure out what happened without me saying anything about him. I mean, I figured out what happened to her husband. If I didn't have to explain what happened, then I think that would be best….

"Anyways, I've been a single parent ever since," I smiled as I looked over at her, “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Those two are my world,” I locked eyes with her.

“I can agree. Michael and Henry… I’d be lost without them,” she smiled at me as she spoke. With that, we both fell into an odd and slightly uncomfortable silence. We both just turned and looked at our kids playing with each other. I wish it wasn’t so awkward….

“So, the… FBI?” I started as I turned back to face her.

“The FBI,” she laughed and nodded, “I work in the BAU,” she looked over at me.

“What would that be, exactly?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh! Yeah! Right, I forget that people don’t know about all the different sections within the actual FBI,” JJ laughed again, and I couldn’t help but let my heart swell again. “So, there’s a bunch of different branches in the FBI, right. I work in the BAU, which is the Behavioral Analysis Unit,” she explained, looking at me like I already knew what that was. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked at her.

“Okay, so… What do you do?”

“Essentially, we read the behaviors of criminals… Like, serial killers, kidnappers… Stuff like that.”

“Like, Ted Bundy?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows.

“Yeah! Kinda. We’ve been all over the country, solving cases, some unsolved ones. It’s a wild world we live in,” JJ swallowed roughly as she looked down at the bench.

“Do you know how many cases you’ve solved? Must be a lot,” I asked, feeling a certain excitement take over. I felt a little embarrassed by the excitement I felt. JJ could sense that too. But I could see how happy she got with my joy.

“Too many to count, honestly. I’ve been on the team for… 15 years,” JJ’s tone was mildly confused. Like, she wasn’t too sure.

“Well, if you’ve been in that line of work for nearly two decades, it’s okay if you don’t remember,” I laughed as I reached over and rested my hand on her leg. It was her turn to blush up at my touch. “Media manager isn’t anything cool. Not like travelling the country like an FBI Agent. That’s super cool,” I looked up at her.

“It is till it keeps you away from home for long periods of time,” she frowned as she looked down at where my hand was resting on her leg. I returned the frown as I retracted my hand.

“I understand being away from home for a while. Although, I think I only go on work trips every six months,” I laughed, trying to cheer her up a bit.

“Anyways, enough about work,” JJ laughed as she looked back at me.

I was more than happy when we fell into a comfortable conversation. Better than before, when we fell into the complete opposite, uncomfortable silence. The conversations moved so swiftly from hobbies, to when our kids were younger, to what we do in our free time. Although, our conversations were cut short by a cry from a little boy in the playground.

I instantly shot up to my feet, looking around the playground for my son. JJ was instantly on her feet too, looking for her sons too. The second I saw my son on the ground, in tears and holding his knee close to his body. I sprinted across the playground and right to him.

“Hey, hey, baby,” I knelt to the ground to help him, “It’s okay,” I whispered as I brushed the tears off his face.

“He… He just fell off the playground,” one of JJ’s sons appeared by me. I looked over at him and nodded with an exaggerated pout.

“That’s okay! Accidents happen!” I looked back down at my son before picking him up and resting him on my hip. He sniffled his nose before pressing his face into my shoulder. “Ohh, is it time to go home?” I frowned as I walked back over to JJ and the bench.

“Oh no! Did we have a fall?” JJ looked at me as I got closer to her. I frowned and nodded. “I have a first aid kit in the van if you need." She watched as I sat back down. She sat beside me and looked at my son. “Oh, that looks like a rough owie,” she looked at the scrape on his knees.

“You should see his hands,” I looked back at her. JJ looked back at me before standing up.

“I’ll be right back,” she rested a hand on my son’s head and then mine before leaving us for a moment.

“Should we go home and take a nap?” I asked, resting my hand on his back. He took a shaky breath and nodded before pressing his head into body. I looked up just as JJ returned with a small first aid kit and a stuffed animal.

“I have X-Men and Batman band aids,” JJ whispered as she sat back down beside me. I turned my son around so he was facing JJ. “Do you want… Wolverine or Batman?” She looked at him with a small smile on her lips.

“B-batman,” he whispered, looking cautiously at JJ. I watched as she pulled out a wipe, ointment and some Batman band aids. My son looked up at me, tears still fresh in his eyes.

“This might sting… Do you want to hold Arlo? He’s Michael’s dinosaur,” JJ looked at my son as she offered the bright blue and yellow stuffed animal. I looked down at him as he held out his hands to take the dinosaur from JJ’s hands.

“You can be a big boy, for JJ?” I asked, brushing more tears off his cheeks. He looked up at me and nodded. I looked back at JJ and nodded lightly so she would just hurry and clean his injuries.

“Owie,” he cried as he began squirming around. I held him close as JJ tried to be quick.

“Look! Look! I’m all done!” she lifted her hands to show him that she was truly finished. “You got some pretty cool Batman’s band aids on your knees now,” she pointed at his knees, causing him to look down at them.

“What do you say to JJ,” I whispered, looking at my son’s face. She looked at me, then down at the boy on my knee with a smile.

“Thanks, JJ,” he mumbled before turning to hide into my body. JJ laughed, and looked back at me.

“You’re welcome, Buddy,” she looked down at him again.

“And, on that note… I should probably collect my other kid and go home. It’s nap time,” I looked at JJ as I handed her the stuffed Dinosaur. I really didn’t want to bid farewell to her. But, it was time to go. Time had flown by quickly, it was well past nap time and almost dinner time.

“I agree,” JJ frowned as she stood up. I sighed as I stood up beside her. We both called for our kids, waiting for them to run over to us. “Oh, we should exchange numbers… It was nice talking with you, and it’s nice to have friends outside of work,” she laughed as she turned to me again. I smiled and nodded before pulling out my phone.

"We’ll have to set up another playdate soon. I’m sure they all had fun together," I smiled, looking down at my kid. JJ looked at her kids, then over at mine, "Now that we’ve exchanged numbers and all. How would you guys feel about that?" I couldn’t help but let the smile grow across my lips. My cheeks started to hurt a little bit from how happy I was feeling. I honestly don’t remember the last time I was this happy.

"I think that’s a great idea," JJ smiled before looking back at me. I looked back at her and nodded. "And, maybe we can… have a date our… ourselves?" she asked, raising an eyebrow slightly, "Only if you want! I won’t press-"

"That would be… nice," I smiled and nodded, "I’ll call you?"

"Sounds good! Have a nice night you three," JJ smiled at each of us before corralling her kids towards her van.

"Who was that?" My daughter looked up at me with furrowed eyebrows. I smiled as I watched JJ drive off.

"A new friend," I answered, looking down at her with a smile.

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

#shadow writes stuff #shadow posts stuff #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau fanfiction

137 notes · View notes

puckinghell · 4 years

Text

Before You Go | Jacob Markstrom

Summary: Lyrics: “And I know it makes you laugh, if I say it first would you say it back? // I don’t know how to say I love you before you go” Words: 4.3k Note: my fave @danglesnipecelly wanted a Jacob fic and what K wants, K gets. So here it is! Excuse my sadness about the trade. Not proofread, we die like men.

It’s the most cliché way of meeting someone.

Later, you wonder if your friends are even going to believe you when you tell them. You wouldn’t, if the roles were reversed; you’d make a joke about them watching too many romantic comedies. But you don’t even like romantic comedies, and yet here you are.

“This isn’t good,” the guy says, a frown on his face. He pushes the elevator button a few more times, and you nearly snap at him.

It’s not suddenly going to start working because you keep jamming on the buttons.

But, well, you’ve seen him a few times before: not enough times that you think he lives in your building but maybe someone he visits often. And he’s never been anything but nice, saying “good morning” and smiling at you, holding open the door, remaining completely unbothered when you spilled coffee over his very expensive looking shoes.

You don’t know his name, but he seems like a nice enough guy, so you don’t yell at him. He’s also really hot, but that has nothing to do with the fact that you don’t yell at him.

“I think we’re stuck,” he says. There’s a hint of an accent there, one that you can’t place.

“You think?” you repeat, dryly. You let your eyes travel to the little screen telling you what floor you’re on. It’s been saying ‘3’ for way too long.

“Fine.” The guy laughs. “I know we’re stuck. What I don’t know is what we’re going to do about it.”

“I’ve seen enough action movies to know that there’s no way we’re gonna climb out of here.” You shoot him a pointed look, fixing your gaze on his arms – which are massive. “Although, you might be able to. Me, not so much.”

“I wouldn’t leave you here,” the guy scoffs, and it’s almost annoying how genuine he seems about it.

“So then we wait, I guess.” You slide down the mirrored wall of the elevator. If you’re stuck here a while, you might as well sit down. The guy seems to agree, because he sits against the opposite wall.

“So what’s your name?” he asks, and you introduce yourself. He does, too: his name is Jacob, and he’s originally from Sweden, which explains the accent. But he lives in Vancouver now and one of his friends lives in this apartment building.

“Oh, Alex!” you exclaim, when he tells you his friend’s name. “He’s very nice. He helped me build a table once when I just moved in.”

It was an IKEA table, so it was only fair that the only Swedish guy you knew helped you build it. Although you suppose he’s no longer the only Swedish guy you know, now.

“I’ve seen you around many times,” Jacob says, after some gentle ribbing about Alex’ table building techniques. “Too many times to only now learn your name.”

It’s a feeling you recognize. Jacob’s voice is nice and calming, and you think it’s only his kind blue eyes that are keeping you from having a freakout about being stuck in an elevator.

“I guess if it’s meant to be, the universe will find a way for two strangers to get to know each other,” you tell him with a small smile. You’ve never believed in serendipity before, but if there ever was a time to start…

“So it’s all up to us now to see where it goes,” Jacob says.

And you suppose if you had to get stuck in an elevator you’re glad it’s with him.

If it was serendipity for you to meet, it’s fate how well you fit together.

Jacob is everything you could want in a partner. In fact, if someone had asked you to design your perfect partner, you probably would’ve come up to someone awfully close to him; the only exception being that he wouldn’t have a job that takes him away from you so often.

Dating has never been fun for you, before. Relationships as a whole as a can of worms you’ve never been tempted to open, but you’ve been seeing Jacob for a few months now and you can feel the clock ticking.

He’s not pressured you, hasn’t even mentioned it, but the thought weighs heavy on your mind: if you don’t soon put a name to what you have, you might lose it.

And that’s the last thing you want. Dating has never been fun except now it is, because dating Jacob is just like hanging out with your best friend, who is really hot and you also like kissing and having sex with. And relationships are scary but when you’re with him, it doesn’t feel like that.

Nothing feels scary, when you’re with him.

“So I’m leaving for the California trip tomorrow.” Jacob takes a sip of his drink. His eyes are glued on the movie you’ve been watching, even though it’s not a very good movie: you’ve lost your attention long ago.

“I know.” You know because you’ve put the Canucks schedule in your phone, but you don’t tell him that. That seems like something you maybe shouldn’t do. Like a girlfriend thing to do, and you’re not that.

“It’s gonna be a long one,” he continues. His voice is almost too casual, and you don’t buy it for a second.

You’re gonna miss him, too. But you don’t really know how to say that. Instead, you move a little closer, lay your head down on his shoulder. His arm is curled around your body and the weight of it is comforting.

And suddenly you can’t do it anymore. You feel too safe and comfortable and good to imagine Jacob coming home and not asking you over right away, and you know you have to talk to him if you want this to last.

And you do. God, you do.

“I actually kinda wanna talk about something,” you force yourself to say. Jacob veers up as if that’s exactly what he’s been waiting for; maybe it is. He surely knows you well enough.

He switches off the movie and turns halfway, so he’s facing you. It’s harder, that way, to speak, so you fix your gaze on your hands.

Jacob’s hand comes into view, as he carefully takes one of yours and laces his fingers through yours.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he hums, and you tell him. You don’t want to, but you do, because you can’t bottle it up any longer.

“I really like you. And I’ve been wanting to ask, or, talk about… What this is, between us. Or what you think it can be, I guess.”

Jacob’s voice displays only curiosity when he answers. “This is hard for you.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement, but you know there should be an explanation from you anyway. He deserves to step into this knowing what he’ll get, and it’s hard because there’s a chance he decides it’s not worth it.

That you’re not worth it, too hard and too messy and too many skeletons in the closet. It’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done, maybe, to open up to him like this.

But if it was ever the right time to roll the dice and try, now would be it.

“I’ve not had a lot of good, healthy relationships in my past to look back on,” you admit. “My parents had a really messy marriage until they got divorced, and my previous relationships have been somewhat of a shit show, if I can say that. So I think… It’s just kinda hard, to open myself up to that again.”

“I understand,” Jacob says softly, and you can tell from his voice that he means it. “But you think you wanna try?”

“Yes.” It’s not a hard question to answer. “Like I said, I really like you, and, well, I think what we have could be really special. So I wanna try.” You finally look up to send him a small smile. He smiles back, eyes filled with fondness and understanding.

“But you have to give me some time, okay?” you ask. “Allow me time to try. And to figure it out.”

“All the time in the world,” Jacob agrees easily, and when he leans in it’s not scary to kiss him, to feel his hands travel across your skin, the warmth of his mouth on yours. If anything, it feels right.

You’re already in bed when your phone buzzes, the expected FaceTime call coming through.

“Hi,” you smile, as soon as you answer. You know the smile probably doesn’t quite reach your eyes, not after the day you’ve had – but the connection is kinda blurry so hopefully Jacob won’t be able to tell.

Jacob frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Well. So far that idle hope.

“How did you know?” you huff, immediately letting the façade go. You were going to ask him about his game first, but now there’s no use. There’s no way he’ll wanna talk about that when he’s noticed your mood.

“I know you,” he answers easily, and that’s true.

Suddenly, your heart squeezes with how much you miss him. You wrap your arms around yourself, balancing the phone on your knees, and thread your fingers into the soft worn cotton of a shirt that definitely doesn’t belong to you.

Carolina is very far away, and you feel it when you look at the screen. It doesn’t feel the same, with Jacob’s face blurry and unable to feel the warmth of his skin.

“Hey,” Jacob says, softly. “Talk to me.”

He moves and you can see more of the environment behind him now, the hotel room bland and generic as most hotel rooms are. You wonder if he misses home when he’s there, or if he’s been around the world so much no place really feels like home. Maybe those generic hotel rooms are familiar to him like a home, too.

Vancouver feels like home to you, most of the time. But it’s not where you’re from and none of your family lives there, and that makes it hard sometimes.

“Is Vancouver your home?” you ask Jacob. The question probably comes out of nowhere but it doesn’t seem to faze him: at the very least he doesn’t show it.

“Yes,” he says. “Sweden is, too. I think I have many homes.” He cocks his head to the side, seemingly staring into your soul even all the way from Carolina. “Why?”

“I guess I just miss my family,” you tell him. “My sister broke up with her boyfriend and she’s really sad and I just wish I was there. We’ve been talking on the phone, but…”

“But it’s not the same,” Jacob hazards a guess, and, yeah, that’s pretty much what it comes down to.

“You know,” he continues, in a tone of voice that betrays nothing about the fact that he’s about to say something incredible, “Vancouver became a little more like home to me when I met you.”

In books and movies, they always talk about the butterflies in your stomach when you first realize you love someone. But it’s nothing like that, for you. It’s more like a tsunami of light flowing through your veins, lifting a heavy weight from your shoulders and replacing it with the comfort of a warm blanket.

And you wanna say it, say those three little words that mean so much.

“I…” you start.

“I loved him, Y/N,” your sister had said, just hours earlier. “How could someone I love hurt me so much?”

“I miss you.”

A tiny smile adorns Jacob’s face, almost like he knew what you were going to say anyway.

“Yeah,” he says, “I miss you, too.”

It has happened so many times that Jacob is starting to poke fun at you, a little bit.

“Don’t you just love sweet potatoes?” he’ll say, one eyebrow lifted and too much emphasis on the word love.

You know it’s stupid, okay. You know you’ve been with Jacob for way too long to still not have said those words. It’s a miracle, really, that he’s let you get away with it so long. Any other person would probably have long ago dumped you. Or at least gotten very mad.

And you don’t really know why it’s so hard for you. It’s not like you don’t love him. In fact, you love him with your whole heart, and every single day he does or says something to remind you of it. You’ve thought it at least a million times: God, I love you.

But something dark and twisted, deep inside your heart, tells you that it’ll only be true if you say it. If you say it, you open yourself up to the kinda hurt that’s come to everyone you know that has said it before.

Your parents, who got divorced. Your sister, who got her heart broken. Every single friend that’s called you crying about someone they loved. Every single previous heartbreak that’s left everlasting scars on your heart.

And it’s not like you really need to say it. Things are going well, with Jacob, and he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. Apart from his teasing remarks, he seems completely content.

Maybe he feels it when you kiss him, maybe he sees it in your eyes.

Sometimes, you come so close. So many times, you’ve almost said it. But every time you almost do, you don’t.

You think he notices, most of the time. A tiny smile will form on his face and sometimes he’ll even laugh out loud.

“But if I said it first, would you say it back?” he’ll ask sometimes.

“Of course I would,” you’ll say, but he never tries it, and you think that might be because he knows you’re lying.

And then the world gets turned upside down.

You guess you knew there was a pretty decent chance he wasn’t staying in Vancouver. But it was too painful to think about: every time you did, it nearly turned you dizzy and nauseous with worry.

If Jacob wasn’t staying in Vancouver, you’d have to think about what would happen to your relationship. And that wasn’t something you wanted to think about, because he became such a big part of your life you honestly don’t know what would become of you if he left.

But then you have to think about it, because it happened.

Calgary.

You’d never known one word could break your heart this much. And you’ve never hated one city as much as Calgary.

Almost in a daze, you make your way through Vancouver to go to his house. His house, that so much felt like yours before: it doesn’t anymore, and when you step inside you feel like a stranger in a familiar place.

Jacob appears in the hallway, having heard the click of the front door and your sneakers against the hardwood floor. His face is blank, devoid of any emotion, and you know that means he’s hurting.

He’s always smiling, usually, happy almost to a fault. He carries losses with great dignity, never complains, never gets angry or upset. He shakes things off like they slip away from his shoulders.

It’s something you’ve always admired about him, because things stick to you like you’re made of velcro.

This time, though, you can tell you’re not the only one hurting.

“I’m…” you start, but you cut yourself off. I’m sorry doesn’t seem like the right thing to say, and you don’t really know what else you could say.

Wordlessly, Jacob opens his arms, and you gratefully step into them, burying your face in his shoulder. It’s minutes before he speaks.

“At least it’s still in Canada?”

You can tell he’s trying to keep positive, as he always does. But there’s very little to be positive about, here. Calgary might be in Canada but it’s still so far away, and you wouldn’t see him for weeks on end…

“What about us?” you ask, words whispered against his shirt. It’s a surprise he hears you, but he does, and he pulls away immediately, frowning down at you.

“What do you mean?”

You swallow. It’s hard to get the words out but it’s something that needs to be talked about because his move could be imminent: you have no idea how long he’s planning to stay in Vancouver now that he doesn’t have to.

“What’s gonna happen to us if you’re not here?”

Jacob takes a step back, recoils like he’s been stung. It’s not immediately clear to you why he reacts like that, until he speaks.

“I wasn’t aware that anything had to happen to us.” His words are sharp and his face is still blank, but it’s the carefully constructed blank that tells you he’s hiding his true emotions.

You laugh, but it’s humorless. “You’re going to be in Calgary, Jacob. And I’m here.”

“I was gonna ask you to come.”

His words hit you like a tsunami, and for a second you’re rendered speechless. In that second, Jacob continues.

“I thought… We’ve been together for a while, you’ve said you’re not attached to Vancouver. You don’t like your job here. There’s no reason for you to stay here.”

And there’s a reason to go to Calgary, clearly. One very good reason.

But…

But if you go, and things go wrong, you’ll be in a foreign city with nobody. You don’t have friends there, you don’t have a job, or an apartment.

“Y/N.” Jacob’s voice is a little shaky. “Do you love me?”

There it is, the question that you wished to never answer. It lays between you like a heavy blanket of fog, blurring any connection there is.

For the first time, you’re not so certain about your future anymore.

Your future was supposed to be here, in Vancouver. You’d find a better job and in time, you and Jacob would move in together. He was supposed to be a Canuck forever and this would be where you’d raise your family. You’d get a dog, and a house with a garden.

And there’s no reason any of that couldn’t happen in Calgary, but. What if it didn’t? Suddenly you can only see yourself sitting on the floor of an empty, tiny studio in Calgary, snow outside, and nobody to talk to.

Apparently your silence has lasted too long, because Jacob speaks again, more forceful this time.

“Because if you love me, we can talk about this. We can figure something out. You could move with me now or later, or we could do long distance. We can make it work.” He pauses. “But if you don’t love me, maybe that’s just a waste of time.”

You love him. You love him with everything you have and everything you are. But there’s so many thoughts whirling through your brain, so many scenarios that could end so very badly.

And if you’re hesitating, maybe that means it’s not enough.

“I see.” Jacob takes another step back. Something calm has come over him now, a quiet resolve that the decision has been made. “In that case, please leave your key when you leave.”

And you open your mouth; you’ve gotta say it, you want to say it.

But Jacob’s footsteps are heavy as he retreats up the stairs and your feet are nailed to the floor. It’s impossible to move until at least ten minutes later, when you drag yourself outside.

The door closes behind you, the keys laying on the table in the hallway.

Tears are rolling down your cheeks, but you barely notice it. Nor do you notice the cold or the rain.

There’s so many things you don’t know, but if there was one thing you could’ve changed, you would figure out how to tell him you love him before he goes.

It’s been 4 days, 5 hours and 20 minutes since you left Jacob’s house and with it, his life.

Not that you’ve been counting. In fact, you’ve done everything you can to distract yourself from counting: eating ice cream, watching movies, calling your sister.

During one of those phone calls, she says something that pretty much shakes the ground you stand on.

“Just because you didn’t tell him you love him, it didn’t change much about how broken your heart is right now, did it?”

Of course, you told her everything: your sister is your rock, your best friend, the only person that knows all of your secrets.

“Uhm,” you say, eloquently, as you let the words sink in. She’s right.

Damn it.

Your whole relationship with Jacob, you’ve been worried about this. About heartache. Because from the very start, you knew how amazing he was, how precisely right for you. And losing him has always been the thing you were most scared of.

Sure, you were afraid to say those three words: but it was because you were convinced it would change things. Like something would shift inside you when you did, and somehow it would bind you to him more, ties that would tear in the most hurtful way when it ended.

But now it’s ended, and you’re hurt. You don’t think you could be more hurt, by anything in the world.

Including if you’d told him you love him, first.

And after everything he’s done for you, everything he’s put up with, after the way he so fearlessly loved you even when you refused to give him that back, he deserves to know.

“I’ve gotta go,” you tell your sister, and she laughs.

“Good luck, babe.”

It’s only two days until he leaves.

You probably shouldn’t know that, anymore. You lost the right to know those things when you didn’t tell him the one thing he needed to hear. But you couldn’t just let him go without at least knowing he was gone, so you’d texted Petey and he told you.

Not happily. You’re not surprised Petey is mad at you. He’s hurting too, probably, but not like you.

But then, that’s partly your own fault.

It’s weird, to knock on Jacob’s door. You haven’t done that in God knows how long, ever since he got you a key. You remember his grin when he handed it to you, shrugging his shoulders.

“It feels as much like your place as mine, by now.”

And it did used to feel like that, but not anymore. You wonder if it still even feels like Jacob’s: surely he’s been packing his stuff, maybe even already shipping it to Calgary.

You don’t get to think about it more, because the door opens.

Jacob looks… Well, he looks good because he’s too good looking to not look good, but he looks tired. Worn out, even: dark circles under his eyes and the blue orbs contain no trace of the sparkle you’re so used to. When he sees you, he frowns.

“Y/N?” he asks. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

It’s ridiculous: after all of this he shouldn’t be asking you what’s wrong, he shouldn’t be worried about you still. He should slam the door in your face or maybe yell at you some more.

But he doesn’t. He wouldn’t. Because he’s the best person there is and he loves you, and you’ve always known it but he hasn’t known the same in return, and..

“I love you.”

You blurt out the words before you can fully process it and you can tell that he wasn’t expecting it, either. His eyes widen and his mouth is a little slack, and for the first time since you’ve met him he looks completely at loss for words.

So you just keep talking.

“I was so scared to tell you that, because somehow I thought if I didn’t say it it wouldn’t hurt so much when it went wrong. All I’ve known is love going wrong, and I guess I thought if we didn’t call it that maybe that would stop it from hurting. But now it’s gone wrong anyway and it hurts so much and I realize it couldn’t hurt more, so I might as well say it.”

You take a deep breath.

“I guess this isn’t the right way to say it, or the right time. But I had to say it now because you’re leaving and I can’t have you leave without knowing. I had to say it before you go.”

Jacob looks at you, and suddenly he’s smiling. Despite everything, it’s enough to make you smile back.

“Now,” he says, “was that so scary?”

“Terrifying,” you admit. “So, I said it first.”

“I guess I’ve got to say it back?” Jacob hums, and then he’s stepping forward and kissing you.

Now you know what they mean in the movies and the books when they talk about butterflies.

“I love you.” He whispers the words against your lips between kisses. “I’ve been loving you. I will continue to love you.”

When he pulls away you take the opportunity to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“I don’t want you to go to Calgary without me,” you mumble. It’s easier, now, to say it: what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been wanting. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Jacob answers without even pausing to think. “You don’t have to. Remember what I said?”

“If I love you we’ll figure it out,” you remember, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks.

“So?”

“I love you,” you tell him, again, and you know you’re gonna tell him again and again and again and again.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he promises.

And you believe him.

#jacob markstrom #vancouver canucks #calgary flames #<--- OUCH #nhl fic #jacob markstrom one shot #jacob markstrom imagine

277 notes · View notes

modern-inheritance · 3 years

Text

Modern Inheritance: Look at my Son (Pre-Eragon)

Brom hunched his shoulders against the gust of snow flurries that tugged at his clothes as his horse clopped tiredly along. He knew he was getting close, could still feel the tiny threads of Selena’s energy leading to the small farm on the edge of Carvahall.

His stomach churned. Not only because he was hungry, but because he didn’t know what he was going to find when he reached his destination. Had the healers observations and Brom’s own hypothesis correct? He didn’t know if he wanted to be right or if he wanted to be wrong.

The Rider pulled his horse to a stop at the small house his spells were leading him to.

It wasn’t anything fancy. A simple homestead with a single story, a paddock next to the side porch. Brom could see a small patch of empty farmland behind the paddock, stubbled with the remains cut, dead stalks of grains poking up through the light layer of snow.

It looked like a home for a family.

Sighing, Brom leaned his forearms on the saddle’s pommel and examined the home, looking for some excuse to enter. He found a reason in one of the two work horses, a muscled bay, that had a pronounced limp.

Moments later found him knocking on the front door. His heart thumped in his chest. He had to play this along for a little while, then he could have the truth.

At the third knock a thin man opened the door. He looked at Brom with intense, dark eyes, then cocked an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Brom cleared his throat. “Ah, well, not to intrude, sir. I was passing by and saw that one of your horses has a quite a limp. Didn’t know if you were aware, and I just…”

The man sighed tiredly. “Yeah, I’m aware. Thank you.” He leaned out to look over at the bay as it lapped water from a trough. “Poor girl. I don’t have the money to replace her, but I don’t have the money to get her looked at either. I’ve been resting her since winter started, but nothing seems to work.”

“I might be able to help, if you don’t mind me working with her a bit.” Brom gestured to his own steed. “I’m a bit of a traveling storyteller, but I’ve picked up quite a few tricks for healing, especially where horses are involved. Can’t get anywhere with a lame animal.” He offered his hand. “My name is Brom.”

Out of instinct the other man shook his hand. “Garrow.” Then he paused. “I appreciate your offer, but as I said, we don’t have much money, and I’m not the sort of person to accept–”

Brom cut him off. “If you insist on paying me, I’d appreciate a hot meal and a porch to sleep on for the night.” He chuckled roughly. “I’m having a bit of money trouble myself. Don’t think I have enough for a room in town.”

Garrow rubbed his chin, obviously thinking it over. For a moment Brom was worried he would refuse again, but then a woman’s voice called from within the house, coming closer with each word. “Honey? Who is it?”

A woman appeared behind Garrow. Brom’s heart leapt to his throat when he saw a child balanced on her hip, but then he came to his senses. The boy was much too big to have been born in the last few months.

“This gentleman–Brom, was it?–Brom was offering to take a look at old Betty for us.”

“And you were going on about not accepting charity, weren’t you? Garrow, you are not going to let this opportunity slide after all the complaining you’ve done about Betty being lame. Let the poor man in!” She swatted her husband on the shoulder good naturedly. “I already heard his offer to trade. Brom, you are welcome to stay for dinner and sleep in our guest room if you can help our horse.”

Garrow chewed his lip for a moment as the woman went back into the house, the toddler on her hip staring back at the stranger at his door with wide gray eyes. “Fine, fine. You can let your horse into the paddock to feed. I’ll get my coat.”

~~~

With magic on his side, the horse’s leg was easy to fix.

To keep impressions up, Brom took to murmuring to the pained animal in the Ancient Language, weaving in his spells subtly as he checked each leg and gently manipulated muscle and bone. Garrow would occasionally ask how he was doing certain exercises, but mostly kept to himself, leanly corded arms wrapped in a well worn jacket and crossed on his thin chest.

After two hours of working with the horse, Brom managed to get Betty to put her full weight on her previously injured limb.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Garrow grunted. “You must be some kind of miracle worker.”

Brom brushed his hands off and gave the bay a pat on her thick shoulder. “No, no. Just had many years of experience. She’ll still need rest until it’s fully healed. I wouldn’t have her pulling anything until spring. These types of injuries can get worse and have a nasty habit of popping up again if pushed too early.” The farmer nodded, assuring the stranger that he would take his advice, and then, finally, invited Brom into his home.

~~~ “Marian!” Garrow called, hanging his coat on the rack beside the door. Instead of his wife, the child from before came tottering out of what Brom assumed was the kitchen. “Hey, big guy! Where’s your mommy, huh?” In one fell swoop, Garrow crouched down and lifted the little boy up into his arms.

The child giggled, reaching out for his father’s head with grasping fingers. Garrow humored him, letting him tug at his ears, as Brom followed the man’s example of hanging his coat. As if suddenly noticing the newcomer, the boy let go of Garrow’s ears and leaned over his shoulder, pointing with an exclamation of childish surprise. “Ah, right. Roran, this man here is Brom. He helped the horse get better.” Garrow looked back. “This is Roran, our son.”

Brom awkwardly waved. “Hello, Roran.”

Roran waved back vigorously. “‘Aye Bom!”

“I’m in the kitchen!” Marian appeared in the doorway that Roran had come through, wiping her hands on her checkered waist apron. Her dark hair was tied up in a loose bun. “Supper will be ready in another hour or two. How did it go?”

“Brom here has magic hands, honey.” Garrow set Roran down, letting him toddle off, and clapped Brom on the shoulder. “Betty will actually walk on her leg now.”

Marian flashed Brom a warm smile. “That’s wonderful! Thank you so much, Brom. Please, have a seat! I’ll get some tea for you both to warm up.”

Garrow led the other man to the living room and offered him a seat in a worn armchair. “I know it’s not exactly the cleanest place in the world, but it’s home.” Garrow apologized, hastily moving blocks, a baby’s play mat, and various toys away with his feet. “We had an unexpected new addition to the family a little while ago. Hard keeping up with two little ones.”

Brom’s heart skipped a beat as he accepted the offered chair. “Congratulations. Two children are quite a blessing.”

Garrow chuckled slightly as he sat across from him on the couch. “Ah, well. He’s not ours, really. He’s my sister’s boy, but she had to leave him with us. We love him as our own, though.”

A boy!

He had a son!

“That’s incredibly kind of you.”

Suddenly, a soft cry came from a room further in the house.

The farmer stood. “There he is. Excuse me.”

Brom nearly choked as Garrow disappeared down the hall. He had a son! A little boy! His heart bashed against his ribs as he realized that Garrow was likely going to return with the baby. He was about to see his son for the first time and he was the only person in the world who knew it. He braced his elbows on his knees, trying to calm himself.

Dear Gods, he had never been good with children. They were small, generally talked or cried a lot, stank, and were prone to all kinds of trouble. He never knew what way he was supposed to hold them, especially babies, and when they weren’t able to talk he was secretly terrified of not being able to help them or give them what they wanted.

Would he be able to handle even seeing the boy? What if he had to hold him? Stars above, he wanted to hold him, but at the same time what if he broke him? What if–

“Here’s the little man.” Brom started when Garrow spoke, gaze shooting up to see the farmer settling back onto the couch with a squirming bundle in his arms. “Sorry about the crying. It’s all they seem to do at this age.”

Brom cleared his throat, trying to fight past the lump he felt forming. He couldn’t see past the blankets. “No, it’s fine.”

Garrow gently bounced the child in his lanky arms, trying to soothe him. “Have any of your own?”

The question struck hard. “Ah, no. I’ve helped care for a few while traveling with troupes though.” Tentatively, as if he might be breaking some unspoken rule, Brom stood and approached the couch. “May I see him?”

“Yeah, yeah, sit. Shh shh shh, it’s okay, Unkie Garrow’s here.” Brom took the spot next to Garrow as gently as he could, his mind blocking out even the crying. He still couldn’t see him.

“Roran, what have you go– GARROW!” Marian’s flustered voice suddenly cut through the din. “Garrow, Roran got into your tools again and is about to smash a window with that silly hammer! My hands are full!”

“Shoot! Not again!” Garrow looked between the kitchen and the babe in his arms, clearly torn. His gaze settled on Brom as his wife again yelled for him. “Ah, here, can you maybe just–”

Before he even had time to answer Garrow transferred the warm bundle of blanket and baby to Brom’s arms and was out of the room.

Brom looked down, eyes wide and disbelieving. His arms began gently rocking the child of their own accord as a calm suddenly settled over his panicked mind.

The crying stopped.

And so did the rest of the world.

A pudgy face looked up at him from the bunched up blanket, slightly red from the screaming earlier, appearing a curious at the new face that gazed down.

Brom couldn’t breathe. Something welled up in his chest that wasn’t anything he had felt before. It felt like…pride. But that wasn’t it. It was something distinctly different but nameless, sending warm tingles across his entire body and forming a lump in his throat.

Then the baby gurgled and smiled up at him.

And Brom fell apart.

“Hi.” The Rider whispered, nearly choking on the word. He carefully used a finger to move more of the blanket away from the child’s face, almost scared to touch him. The babe gave him no choice, though, by reaching out with a chubby little hand and grasped the finger near his face with a vice like grip. Brom choked out a soft laugh, wiggling the trapped appendage. “Oh, look at you. Hi, little one.” The baby laughed back, and pulled the finger up to explore with his mouth. “Hey.”

“His name is Eragon.” Brom tore his eyes from his son as Marian entered with a tray of tea. She set it down on the table beside the couch and settled down next to her guest.

“Eragon?” The Rider felt the name bolt through his conscious. Such a weighty name for such a small thing. Selena had picked a name of power, of history and peace. The name that had started the Golden Era. “That’s a…a powerful name.” He looked back to the child in his arms. “He’s beautiful.”

Marian took a sip of her tea. “You’ve heard of it? Garrow’s sister seemed to know some history behind the name.”

“It’s a very special name.” Brom murmured, gently rocking the smiling Eragon. “He’ll grow up to be an exceptional young man with a name like that.” Unbidden, another smile split Brom’s face as he gazed on his son. “Won’t you, Eragon?”

“Do you want me to take him off your hands?”

Brom didn’t look away. “No…. No, we’re fine. I’ll see if I can get him to sleep.” Marian smiled at him, thanking him for a welcome break from stresses of taking care of a fussy baby while trying to get dinner ready, and returned to the kitchen.

“You’ll grow up to be strong, Eragon.” Brom whispered to the babe. In response, Eragon let go of his finger and reached out, touching the man’s bearded cheek. “You’ll blow the world away someday. I know it.” Bright blue eyes, not yet pigmented, gazed into the same tone of blue in the eyes of the man above him.

If only Selena could see them now.

~~~

That night, Brom slept in the guest room.

It was also Eragon’s room.

Whenever the babe became fussy, Brom would quietly and carefully lift him from from his crib, consumed with wonder at his little body, and would sit with Eragon on his chest. As the beat of his heart lulled the child back to sleep, Brom softly crooned to him in the Ancient Language, weaving the words to the age old cradle song from Kusta. He familiarized himself with the face of his son, gently touched his downy brown hair, and whispered the story of the first Dragon Rider, the story of his namesake, to him as he slept.

In the morning, as dawn edged into the window, Brom forced himself to come to terms with having to leave. His heart ached as he kissed Eragon on the brow once, placed him back in his crib, and gathered his belongings.

After a small breakfast, again cooked by Marian, Brom gave his sincere thanks to the family.

“If you ever come by again, be sure to look us up.” Garrow shook his hand. “I want to properly repay you.”

“You already have.” The Rider assured him. The warmth of meeting his son was slowly seeping away to be replaced this a deep ache with each step he took to the edge of the porch. “Thank you. And thank you, Marian, for the excellent meals. I have eaten at many courts in my travels, and your food has rivaled them all.”

The woman blushed and laughed. “Well, thank you!” She glanced back into the house. “If you come back, I’m sure Eragon and Roran would love to hear a story or two. Maybe you could tell Eragon about his name.”

“I promise I will. Your hospitality has been most kind.” Adopting the old Kustan bow, Brom bid his final goodbyes and mounted his horse. “Take care. Both your children are very special. Know that. I hope you folks have fortune smile on you.”

As he clicked the steed into a walk, a sleepy eyed Roran grabbed his mother’s leg and waved. “Bye-bye Bom!”

Brom didn’t look back. He didn’t want them to see him crying.

From then on, everything Brom did wasn’t just for the Varden, elves, dwarves, Alagaësia or vengeance. It was all for his son.

#Modern Inheritance #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance stories #the cyclists #Ket's Modern Inheritance Cycle #Brom #baby eragon #Brom is a big softie for his son #garrow #Roran #Roran Littlehammer at this point #pre-eragon #yes yes it's a hamilton reference #ofc it is hamilton inspires a LOT of MIC #not so local man changes from pilie of spitting rage to doting distance dad #...babies are born with blue eyes right or am i crazy af #just...let brom have a bit of peace before eragon grows up enough to speak

29 notes · View notes

fortheloveoffanfic · 3 years

Text

One More Weekend With You

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n-Was gonna post another one from this set of fics, but this was oh so conveniently edited and forgotten in my drafts)

Summary- Inspired by Tis The Damn Season of the Evermore album

Masterlist

Warnings- Angst

It was hard to tell, it had been so long and maybe he'd cut his hair and started wearing his beard lower. Maybe he'd changed the way he dressed- no, not really. Did he always keep his hand in his pocket when he walked? He did, it was definitely him, and there wasn't a chance that her heart was going to let her avoid him. He still had a place there after all.

Rubbing the cool metal of the key between her fingers, Y/n inhaled deeply, trying to brush off her nerves before making her way through the department store to where Keanu stood. "Ke?"

And of course, he'd know her voice anywhere. So instead of just turning to see who it was, Keanu smiled despite the wave of pain that usually accompanied the thought of Y/n. Even if their end had been bittersweet, she was still his 'one.' One true love. One person he wanted to see after a bad day. One voice he wanted to hear when he picked up the phone. "Y/n?" He tilted his head, temporarily abandoning the shelves lined with glassware he was looking at, to hug her quickly. It was short, though, not short enough for it to mean nothing. "You're back”.”

"I'm back," she nodded with a soft huff, righting herself and pulling away from their awkward embrace. He’d felt different and the same; like returning to an old playground and realizing that the magic had gone from childish wonder to aching nostalgia. "Just for the holidays though, after New Years its……"

"Back," he determined as his face fell. Why'd he even let himself think she'd come back for good. Out there was her dream…..L.A…..was just him. And he wasn't enough. "Uh…how-how are your folks? I saw them a couple months ago, they were grocery shopping, but I was in such a hurry, I didn't really get a minute to catch up." What he really meant was that he didn't want to see the look on their faces when they had to stand in conversation with the son-in-law they never had and worst yet, he didn't want them to talk about her, so he could hear how well she was doing without him.

“They’re good. What about your family?” As she spoke, Y/n tried to fight the twinge of regret that accompanied Keanu’s presence. Regret because every time they spoke, the dormant love for him was always reawakened. He told her, a long time ago, that once you started loving someone, if it was real, then it would never go away. And she had learned that he was right the hard way.

Nodding absently, he stuffed his hands into his pockets again, just to occupy them, “They’re good….” they still ask about you. He inhaled softly, not knowing what to say next. It was uncomfortable, before, just a few years ago, Keanu always knew what to say to her, because he could say anything to her. “So how have you been? How’s work? The job?” The job that you left me for.

“I’ve been okay,” Y/n shrugged, trying to muster up a smile, only just realizing that she wasn’t half as happy as she’d been when they were together. “And work’s……its good, the job’s….” not everything it was cracked up to be, especially since it took me away from you, “Its amazing, still can't believe I got it. What about you?” She stuttered, moistening her lips.

Keanu observed her curiously, noting how Y/n’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and how she’d kept anxiously toying with her car keys. She always fiddled when she was nervous. “You sure everything’s okay, Y/n?” It was quite likely that it was no longer his place to ask, worst yet to try to fix things if something was wrong, but Keanu hated knowing that something was bothering her.

He always knew when she was lying. “I…..” Taking a deep breath, Y/n prepared herself to lie anyway, “You know, I’m just….it’s weird to be back, its been a while.”

“Yeah okay,” it was obvious that Y/n wasn’t going to tell him what was going on, not that Keanu could blame her, they had been over for a while by then, she wasn’t obligated to tell him anything. Still, he craved her company and wasn’t willing to let their interaction on such a flustered note. “I don’t know if you have the time, but if you do, maybe we could grab coffee or something, catch up a bit.”

Staring up at him with agape lips and sad eyes, Y/n contemplated for a minute before submitting, she couldn’t imagine saying no anyway, “Sure, okay. I’d like that. The place we usually go to?” She cleared her throat, realizing her mistake as heat rose to her cheeks, “Went to.”

Grinning fondly at her comment, Keanu tried to shake off the memories that the mention of that little coffee shop brought up, they’d had some great times there. “Great,” he determined, deciding that gift shopping could be put on pause for a bit. “It’s not too far from here, we can walk if you’d like.”

“Sounds great.” As they walked, Y/n and Keanu kept a comfortable distance between them. It wasn’t much though, she could still compare his warmth to Los Angeles heat, which had toned down significantly since the start of the holiday season. For a while, the only thing traded between them was silence, though, when they got to the coffee shop, Keanu surprised her by remembering her order to the letter. “You remember,” she mused with a soft soiree, in awe of how he’d held onto the smallest shred of their past.

How was he supposed to tell her that he’d never forget? That he sometimes ordered it for himself, just so the smell could dreg up an innocent memory or two. “You ordered it every time we came here,” he shrugged, glancing away, “And we came here a lot.”

Her gaze weaved through the patrons, eventually finding a wicker table for two near the back of the establishment, with a window view. It was the perfect place for couples to get cozy without receiving judgmental glances and lingering stares. It used to be their table but that afternoon, it was occupied by two strangers who’d never know the history shared between two lovers that had let something so precious escape them. “We did,” she agreed absently, watching the pair share pecks between sips from steaming mugs. That used to be them.

Noticing her far away look, Keanu found what she’d been looking at. The reminder that holding Y/n in his arms like that was now nothing but part of the past stung and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of the unknown couple that sat where they once did. “Do you want to walk instead?”

Reluctantly, she nodded, “Sure, lets go.” As they left the shop, Keanu placed his hand on the center of her back in an unconscious gesture and Y/n suppressed a shudder, caught off guard by how instinctively her body had responded by leaning in before her mind could even permit it. “So,” she eased as they walked along the busy streets, shoppers and pedestrians too caught up in their own busy lives to notice that they were brushing shoulders with a celebrity. And it helped that he was wearing sunglasses. “What have you been up to?”

Shaking his shoulders, “You know,” he took a punctuating sip of his scalding coffee, thinking up ways to make his life sound more exciting than it actually was, “Work, hanging out, dating around, that kind of thing,” he offered nonchalantly, subconsciously trying to show her he’d moved on since their split. At least, he’d tried to.

At the mention of dating, Y/n almost choked on a mouthful of coffee, brashly replacing the cup at her lips with a napkin so she wouldn’t make a mess. Dating around, that wasn’t something she was expecting to hear. It was something she particularly wanted to hear either, because what was a casual mention for him brought a landslide of panic for her. Keanu was moving on and one day, he was going to find someone that would choose him in a way she hadn’t. One day he’d be someone else’s. “That’s…..uh….” exhaling loudly, she mustered up a fake smile, “That’s great! I’m….I’m happy that you’re- you’re um...that’s great Ke,” Y/n stuttered.

“Thanks, I think,” he huffed shyly, “But I’m…..I’m not seeing anyone right now.” Apparently he’d developed a habit of oversharing since he’d met with Y/n merely an hour earlier. Perhaps it was solely because telling her everything used to be habitual.

Her head snapped towards him, eyes wide and lips agape. “You’re not?” She breathed, hoping she didn’t sound too eager. When he confirmed, Y/n proceeded without thinking, “That’s great,” internally kicking herself as soon as she heard the words.

“What?” Keanu halted abruptly, only moving once more to step in front of Y/n. His brows were furrowed and he was starting to wonder if he’d heard her correctly.

“I mean….it’s….not great,” taking a deep breath, Y/n desperately sought to slow the erratic thumping in her chest, finding that the quickest remedy was meeting his whiskey orbs. “It’s….fuck,” she sighed, overwhelmed by the surge of buried feelings that had started welling up since they’d hugged. “I mean…..” Again, Y/n trailed off, at a loss for words, “It’s……”

Bringing his hand up to cup her neck, Keanu leaned down, kissing her slowly, letting instinct take over. He knew what she liked; the slow introduction of his tongue, the way it occasionally glazed over hers and a little nibble on her lower lip to keep things a bit rough. She was liking it then too, Keanu could tell by the way she’d stumbled closer, grasping a fistful of his jacket. “Is that what you were trying to say?” Keanu whispered as they broke.

“Yeah,” a glimmer of a smile tugged at her lips as an idea brewed. “What are you doing this weekend?” She asked softly, the tips of their noses still brushing as they held each other close.

“I’m supposed to spend Christmas at my sister’s,” his words said in a tone that was meant to protect their moment, “Why?”

Dragging her lower lip through her teeth, Y/n debated on whether or not she was about to make a fool of herself. But she had to try; returning to Los Angeles had left her craving Keanu’s company and the fact that they were both single had to mean something. “Spend it with me. We could be like this again….just for a little bit.”

“That’s not a good idea,” he resisted, not really wanting to but knowing that it might be in both their best interests if they didn’t go down that road again; she was leaving after the holidays anyway.

“I know,” Y/n sighed wearily, “But don’t you want to anyways? We could pretend that nothing’s changed,” her free arm rounded Keanu’s neck and her fingers twirled the ends of his hair. “Please, just think about it, okay?”

Conflicted and caught between wanting to be with her, if only for a bit and doing what was best for them both, Keanu took a step back, taking his hand off her and consequently urging Y/n to retract her hold on him. “You can’t come here and just expect me to go along with this.”

“I’m not expecting anything,” she argued, “You were the one that kissed me, and I’m just asking you to consider it. Don’t you miss me? Cause I miss you, Keanu.”

“I….” Mulling on her question, Keanu hit his fist to his thigh, shaking his head, “Doesn’t matter, Y/n,” turning, he walked away without saying goodbye, waving dismissively as he melded into the crowd.

Christmas Day Y/n had tried forcing herself into forgetting how things had gone down with Keanu earlier that week, when she’d asked him to spend Christmas together, the way they had when they were both convinced that they were going to be each other’s forever. But she couldn’t, he’d been on her mind constantly, and every time her phone rang, she’d snatch it up in hopes that he’d changed his mind, and every time, when it was work, or even on of her friends, Y/n felt the sting of disappointment dig at her heart.

Five whole days had passed and she was even starting to get used to it; accepting that she had crossed a line and Keanu was right, when on Christmas day, while she was caught in conversation with her father over very strong eggnog, her mother entered the sitting room, grasping the arm of a familiar figure. Her parents had always adored him, they’d hoped she would marry him, let him be the one that fathered their grandbabies and they were so disappointed when it hadn’t worked out. “Look who’s here!” She announced, squeezing Keanu’s bicep affectionately, broad smile plastered on her face.

“Keanu, son! Look who’s here Y/n!” Her father nudged as if she hadn’t already seen him, standing giddy in the doorway, flashing the room with that movie star grin.

“Yeah dad,” she breathed, not believing her eyes. He’d actually come, even after the way things had ended a few days ago. “What…..what’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you sweetheart,” Keanu beamed, slipping away from her mother, approaching Y/n and then bending to kiss the side of her lips. “I thought about what you said,” he whispered, only loud enough for her to hear, “And I miss you too,” he ended his words with another peck, easily wrapping an arm around her shoulders as her family eyed them with confusion. “Y/n invited me, and I was just wondering if that invitation is still open.”

“Of course it is!” Her mother cheered, clapping her hands excitedly, “You know we love having you here Keanu!”

“I’m glad you came,” Y/n shifted in his embrace, standing on her toes so she could peck his cheek, hugging Keanu at the waist. After that, things fell into the way they used to be; like Keanu was part of their family, and for the rest of the evening, he and Y/n had acted as if nothing had changed between them. As if they were still that couple that was so in love that it was hard to believe they’d ever break up. And it was easy to return to being those people too; within an hour together, it was easy to pretend that nothing had changed, to act as if there hadn’t been a fight a few nights before Y/n got on a plane that would whisk her out of his life or Keanu hadn’t called her a week later, drunk out of his mind only to pour his heart out and beg her to come back. It was as if a day hadn’t passed since their last good one and they were still each other’s future.

When presents and dinner was through, and after Keanu had brought a duffle bag up to Y/n’s room and the cool sun had set making way for the glowing moon, he and Y/n had slipped away from the family festivities to go on a walk around the block. They’d shrugged light coats on over their clothes and had linked arms as they strolled up the desolate street, absently staring at the homes illuminated with colorful lights and Christmas decorations. “What made you change your mind?” Y/n probed, nuzzling his arm, subconsciously hoping he wouldn’t change it again.

“I don’t think I did change it,” Keanu mused, keeping his eyes forward, “I was always gonna come. You know me; I can’t seem to stay away from you,” he gently tugged her closer. Being with her like that, it felt like right, like things were finally the way they were supposed to be, “I miss us, you know?”

“Mm hmm,” he she hummed, resting her head on her bicep, letting Keanu guide them forward with complete trust, “I miss us too. You’d like it there,” she said, referring to where she’d started building her new life, trying to keep them from lapsing into silence.

“Yeah?” He kicked a pebble absently, wondering what it would be like if he ever did move. Could he do that? Leave his family back in L.A to be with Y/n? She was worth it, after all, she was the only woman he’d ever seen himself having a future with. “I think you’re the only person I’ve ever met that wanted to leave Los Angeles to make it big,” he changed the topic, too fearful to let the thought of leaving behind everything he’d built for himself in California cement itself. Maybe they were selfish, Keanu thought, that was why things couldn’t work out for them; cause neither of them was willing to adjust what they wanted outside of each other.

“I think you might be right,” Y/n chuckled and it wasn’t long before they'd fallen into what she’d dreaded; silence. Back at the house, she had the cover of menial chatter, but on the barren sidewalk, where there was nothing to shroud the heaviness of things that were kept guarded, it was different. The atmosphere was clumsy and she felt a way she never had around Keanu; uncomfortable.

“I’d gotten you something,” he broke the quiet, sounding unsure of himself, “Before you told me you were leaving for the job, I’d gotten you something. Well, technically, it was given to me, for you, I guess.”

Throwing him a curious glance, she urged him to slow down, “I don’t understand,” knitting her brows, Y/n silently pleaded with him to elaborate.

“Your mom,” he explained, “She gave me your grandmother’s ring…”

“You were gonna….” Maybe if she’d known before she would have changed her mind.

“Yeah,” he sighed heavily, reminiscing on how that night had gone. How’d they texted each other excitedly on their way home, how he’d insisted she go first, only to hold himself back when she broke the news that the job might threaten to tear her away from him. Long distance wasn’t for them and Keanu knew that moving wasn’t in the cards for him. “Were you mad at me?” She probed meekly.

Huffing a dry chuckle, Keanu shook his head, “No, when I saw how your eyes lit up when you told me about it, all I wanted was for you to be happy, even if that meant it wouldn’t be here, with me.”

“I was happy with you,” they stopped, and turned to face each other, hands still tangled, and unchecked tears threatening to spill over as her voice broke, “I think I was happier with you.”

“I know,” his tone was low and husky as Keanu stepped closer, muting the few inches of space between them. She didn’t need to ask how he did and Keanu had no cause to explain; they knew each other better than most ever would; he could pick up on her faked smiles from a mile away. “Would it be wrong if I asked you to stay?”

Still trying to fight the wave of emotion, Y/n looked at their interlocked fingers, frowning at how well they worked together. No other hands would ever feel like that, and she’d long made peace with the fact. “Would it be wrong if I asked you to wait?”

Closing his eyes, he bent lower to press his forehead to hers, letting her scent tickle his senses. It was as if he was trying to freeze himself in time, so he’d be forever basking in the sweet smell of her perfume and the comfort of her touch while the warmth that radiated between them, tethering him to her was one he was sure he could never remember to its exact perfection. Why couldn’t things be easier? “I’m sorry,” he shuddered, letting his breaths be captured by her quivering lips.

“It’s my fault,” Y/n exhaled, sniffling, “But at least we have right now, right?”

Keanu hugged her low at the waist, burning his face in Y/n’s hair while she sought refuge in the crook of his neck, “Yeah,” hot tears made their slow journey down his his cheek, and he could feel moisture soaking his t shirt where Y/n had buried her face, “At least we have now.”

Even if it would never be enough, for now, it was all they had.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #tis the damn season #angst #john wick #holiday fic #kind of

51 notes · View notes

noona-clock · 3 years

Text

The Dog Walker - Part 2

Genre: Dog Walker!AU

Pairing: Hanbin x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,095

Your first instinct on your rescue mission was to try and scare the squirrel away.

After all, the squirrel was at the root of it all. He was the one distracting the dog, and the distracted dog had been the one to cause Cute Dog Walker Guy to fall onto the sidewalk.

So, as soon as you rushed out your front door, you hurried over to the corner and hopped up to clap your hand against the stop sign. The squirrel had jumped back onto it from the trash can, and upon hearing and feeling your warning, he dove off and landed on the branch of a tree planted along the sidewalk.

The dog whined, ears perked as the squirrel scurried up the tree to -- hopefully -- get away.

You then approached Cute Dog Walker Guy on the ground, your brow furrowing deeply as he began to sit up and let out a soft groan or two.

“Are you okay?” you asked, making sure to keep your distance so you didn’t make him uncomfortable or freak him out.

But now that you were closer to him than you’d ever been and there was no window separating the two of you... you saw just how handsome he was.

Would it be strange if you asked for his hair and skincare routine?

“Y--yeah,” he stammered quietly as he began to push himself off the ground. The two dogs were prancing around him, though, seemingly excited that he was on their level, and he couldn’t manage to stand quite yet.

Even though your heart was pounding just thinking about it, you reached your hand out to offer him some help.

A shy smirk tugged at his lips, and he hesitantly accepted, sliding his hand into yours.

Oh my god, you were touching him. He was touching you. You were holding his hand.

Taking a few steps back, you used all of your strength to hoist him up. As soon as he was on his feet, the dogs settled down, and the whole fiasco seemed to be over and done with.

“Thank you,” he murmured to you as he let his hand fall away from yours and used it to dust off his jeans.

“Oh, sure,” you replied, somewhat breathless. “You’re welcome. I, uh... I heard the ruckus from in my townhouse and thought you might need some help.”

And that was entirely true. You just left out the fact that you had also seen the ruckus. Watched it play out in real time.

Cute Dog Walker Guy looked a bit embarrassed as he answered with, “This really doesn’t happen all that often, but Banjo is new, and apparently, he would rather chase squirrels than walk.”

“Yes, apparently,” you chuckled. “Are you... sure you’re okay?”

He furrowed his brow gently and transferred the leashes to the hand you’d held just moments ago; your gaze darted over to his now leash-free hand, and you instantly saw it was scraped and raw.

“The -- the leashes -- I must have been holding them a little too hard, but it’s fine --”

“I have some ointment inside,” you interrupted. “And bandages?”

“Oh, no, you don’t need to go through so much trouble. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assured him. “It happened basically on my property, so I feel responsible.”

...You’d never been this pushy to help a stranger in your life. But now that you had Cute Dog Walker Guy face-to-face, you were very averse to letting him go!

He glanced down at his hand, curling his fingers gently into his palm and grimacing slightly. “Yeah, it does sting pretty badly. If you wouldn’t mind --”

“I will be right back,” you nodded before dashing back inside.

After practically sprinting to the cabinet in your kitchen which held all of your medical supplies, you threw the cupboard door open and fumbled around to locate the antibiotic ointment and large fabric bandages.

As soon as you had them both in hand, you rushed back down the hallway to your front door.

You were actually a bit surprised to find Cute Dog Walker Guy still there; surprised, but very relieved.

“Here,” you said breathlessly once you’d stepped outside, holding the ointment and bandage out toward him. But then, of course, you realized he didn’t have a free hand to actually put the ointment and bandage on. “Oh! I’ll -- uh -- I can hold onto the dogs, if you don’t mind.”

“Please,” he replied, grinning gently.

You took the leashes from him gingerly, ignoring the way your heart thumped when your fingers brushed over his.

He began to tend to his palm, and rather than wait and watch him silently (and awkwardly), you crouched down to greet the two dogs you were now temporarily responsible for.

“Hi there,” you said with a soft voice and a warm smile. You turned your gaze to the dark brown brindle dog -- Banjo, he had said -- and shook your head. “You’ve caused a bit of trouble, haven’t you, sweet boy? You’re supposed to be on a walk, not a hunt.”

Banjo stepped up to you when he realized you were talking to him, and the end of your sentence was punctuated with a few slobbery kisses.

“Oh, wow, thank you,” you chuckled.

The other dog -- Teddy, though you were positive that wasn’t actually his name -- joined in, apparently jealous of the attention Banjo was receiving.

“Yes, you’re a sweet boy, too,” you cooed to Teddy, reaching out with your free hand to scratch under his chin and ruffle his ears. “And a very good walker.”

“He is,” Cute Dog Walker Guy confirmed. “Frankie is a really good boy, I’ve never had a problem with him before.”

Aw, man.

You were more disappointed than you should have been to find out Teddy’s name was actually Frankie.

But such is life. Not every dog you make up a name for because you only see them through your window is going to live up to his fake name.

“Yeah, I’ve seen,” you murmured, your eyes still on the adorably fluffy dog in front of you.

“You’ve what?”

You froze momentarily and shifted your slightly panicked gaze to Cute Dog Walker Guy.

“I -- Nothing!” you blurted out. “I was just -- I was talking to Frankie.”

You stood up quickly, noticing he had just finished putting the bandage across his palm.

“All done?” you asked.

He nodded, just a hint of a smile ghosting over his lips as he handed the ointment back over to you. “Thank you,” he said.

You traded him the ointment for the dog leashes.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” you replied a bit bashfully and awkwardly. “And thank you for letting me hold onto your dogs.”

“I’m just their dog walker,” he said with a soft chuckle. And that smile became a little shy, and your heart became a little wobbly.

A thought suddenly popped into your head.

...Should you say something?

You probably shouldn’t, but you were going to anyway.

Because why the heck not?

“Yeah, I -- I’ve seen you walking by here. A couple of times. Just when I happened to be passing by my window, and I noticed --”

Okay, now you were getting awkward. You had started off okay, but the inept rambling you were so very prone to had snuck its way in.

“Do you live around here?” you asked suddenly, cutting yourself off. “Or just walk the dogs around here?”

...Wait, had you just asked him where he lived?

“Not that -- oh my god, I’m sorry!” you continued. “You do not have to tell me where you live, I didn’t mean to --”

“I live a few miles away, but the company I work for isn’t far from here,” he answered with a placating grin.

“Oh! That -- that’s neat! Is it a dog walking company?”

“Well, it’s kind of just like a pet... boutique? I guess you could call it? We do grooming and boarding and training and dog walking, so a little bit of everything. I do most of the walking, though.”

“It’s good exercise,” you pointed out, still very much hearing the stiffness in your voice.

You couldn’t believe you’d messed this up. You actually got the chance to meet the guy you’d been crushing on from afar, daydreaming about, and... you’d just been so incredibly awkward.

“It is,” he answered with a soft laugh and a nod.

And then he said something that...

Well, you thought it might have been...

But, no, Of course, not. He wouldn’t have said that.

“Pardon?” you mumbled, furrowing your brow and tilting your head to make sure you heard him correctly this time.

“Hanbin,” he said with a slightly raised voice. “My name. My name is Hanbin.”

...Ah.

Yes.

You had been right.

He had just told you his name.

His actual name.

His real name.

And it wasn’t Cute Dog Walker Guy.

It was Hanbin.

You realized you were now just staring at him, blinking, so you quickly shook yourself out of your daze and replied back to him.

“I’m Y/N!” you told him. “Y/N. Nice to -- to meet you, Hanbin.”

Oh, my god. Saying his name was just --

Oh, my god. It was thrilling.

He had a name! And you knew it!

And he knew yours!

“Nice to meet you, too, Y/N,” he said, his half-smile not making it any easier to keep your cool. “You know, I... I walk by here almost every day.”

It took basically everything in you not to tell him you already knew this. It took everything in you to play it cool, but play it cool you did. Hopefully.

“Do you? I work from home, so I’ll be sure to say ‘hi’ if I ever see you,” you said with the most casual tone you could muster. “Make sure you don’t get into any more tussles with squirrels.”

You figured Cute Dog Wa -- Hanbin -- would chuckle awkwardly at your declaration, but instead... he smiled warmly at you. And then he said:

“I would like that.”

Okay, if you didn’t get inside your house in the next minute, you were pretty sure you were going to combust.

Because you were kind of coming to the realization that... Hanbin... aka Cute Dog Walker Guy... aka the guy you’d been secretly crushing on for what felt like your whole life...

He was... maybe... flirting? With you?

So, you simply nodded. You forced a laid-back smile onto your lips. You hummed positively. And then you lifted your hand and said in one breath, “I’ll let you get back to your walk it was nice to meet you have a great day bye!”

And then you ran for it.

I mean, not ran. But your heart was running, so it felt like you ran for it.

Once you closed your front door behind you, you leaned back against the solid, wooden surface and let out a very shaky breath.

And after at least a full minute of standing there in contemplative silence (except for the sound of your own heavy breathing), you settled on the fact that you really weren’t quite sure that had just happened.

How could it have?

Things like this didn’t happen in real life. Especially not to you! You were just an average person. You weren’t rich, you weren’t a genius, you weren’t outlandishly beautiful. You worked a very normal job, and you led a very normal life.

So, yeah, it was pretty hard to believe that you had just met this guy, talked to him, and... he had seemed... maybe... interested in you.

But not just any guy. The guy you’d been non-creepishly stalking for quite some time. The guy who starred in the vast majority of your daydreams. The guy you were so desperate to know and fall in love with so you were too scared to ever meet because what were the odds he would actually like you or even be single?

That guy.

When your practical senses finally returned and you realized you had to get back to work, you figured that tomorrow would bring about the reality of the situation: it hadn’t actually happened, and you would just have to go back to peeking through your window and catching a glimpse of Hanbin as he walked past your window.

But that’s what you’d been doing every day prior, so it wouldn’t be hard to fall back into your old patterns.

Not hard at all!

Part 3

#kwritersworldnet #hanbin scenarios #hanbin imagines #hanbin au #hanbin fluff #hanbin fanfic #ikon scenarios #ikon imagines #ikon au #ikon fluff #ikon fanfic #kim hanbin #b.i #ikon #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic

84 notes · View notes

faetxlity · 3 years

Text

Here’s A Health To The Company

@save-a-witcher-bingo Prompt: At Sea Characters: Witcher Gerd, Togeir the Red, Jerome Moreau

Torgeir was looking up at the ruins of what had once been his home. What was his home. Is. The flames were spreading quickly, Fort Tuirseach was all but destroyed. Like the Jarl who had filled its halls with laughter and mead- ruined.

At his side, stained in blood, sat the Witcher Gerd. His jaw was tight, his hands were fisted in the fabric of his own filthy shirt, but his eyes were clear. He did not watch the ruin of his adopted home, rather he watched the blood seep from the bandages that he had wrapped around Torgeir’s leg. Already they were in need of changing but they had no fabric with which to do so, his original job had been so hasty... Unless they ripped apart the sails there was nothing to be done. But to do such a thing as that was a death warrant.

The little ship they had taken was not meant to go much further than around the cape but they had set out for sea with no choice. They had with them five men and a woman, of whom only two were well enough to take up oar, not counting the Witcher who had rowed them the first half hour from shore nearly on his own with eyes blacker than coal.

The Witcher rested now though, so much as he could with his life burning on the shore.

“We will die out here.” The Jarl said, voice was devoid of emotion. Gerd looked to his friend’s face then, to his lover’s eyes. The anger, the grief , all the emotions he had expected were nowhere to be found.

“No.” Gerd replied, “we will live. We will see them pay for this and you will see it rebuilt.” He received no answer, no acknowledgement as the jarl’s hand did not return the gentle pressure that he put upon it. Gerd looked at the island they were sailing from, the land they may never get to set foot on again.

They would live; he would accept no other outcome.

~seven days~

For seven days the ship rocked, sailing for some imagined safe haven on the mainland but without hope or half a crew. One man had succumbed to his wounds on the first dawn and another had followed two evenings after. Torgeir had said nary a word since his ominous assertion of their fate, his leg had steadily grown worse over the days and it left him with little ability to do more than lay down and sleep. When awake he stared across the sea as if expecting death to appear to him with an outstretched hand.

Gerd had taken over easily enough, tucked Torgeir into the captain's quarters and spent both days and nights looking for either a miracle or their end.

On the seventh day it came to them in the form of a ship thrice their size. No man aboard their own was fit to fight but still Gerd drew his steel and braced himself. The dark hull of the incoming vessel felt like an omen and he was flanked by Andrea and Koll, the only two who remained in good health- though weak from hunger they would die on their feet. Of that they were sure.

A figure leaned over the edge of the ship above, their back was to the sun and so Gerd could not discern any features. “Are you in need of assistance?” The voice was, clearly, not Nilfgardian and that alone was enough for the man on Gerd’s left to sag. Andrea looked to the Witcher, her eyes wide and hopeful.

Please, let this be a mercy.

“Yes!” He called up. “We are!”

The ship called itself a merchant’s vessel though a pirate’s den is what it looked. They had been pulled aboard with canvas and rope, the men of the ship quick to provide them with fresh water and food while their medic checked each refugee for wounds. If the crew were upset to have a witcher in their midst they did not voice it. Their captain was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh dear.” The medic said, in his hands were the bandages that Gerd had re-applied to Torgeir’s leg on the third day of their voyage, made from scraps of a shirt found in the captain’s chest.. The odor once they were removed turned even the Witcher’s stomach. “I need a knife.” Gerd tensed but produced his own blade, edging closer to see what was going on.

Torgeir was sweating, his skin deathly pale and feverish as he had been for the last day. In that moment though the jarl’s eyes were wide open- “Where’s Gerd?” It was slow and slurred but clear enough.

“I’m here, Torgeir.” He sank to his knees and took one scarred hand in his own. With his other hand he brushed the tangled mess of the jarl’s hair back from his forehead. The infection was nasty, but it hadn’t spread far. He smiled though surely it was more of a grimace, “Just here.” It took all his strength not to snatch the medic by his throat when the knife began to cut away flesh. It took nothing at all to blame himself for the state of the wound. He was a witcher, he should have known better.

You had nothing on hand to help. You did what you could. He reminded himself. It could have been much worse, the beam that had splintered and slashed the jarl’s thigh had nearly taken his head instead.

Green eyes rolled back and the man’s labored breathing evened. “Witcher?” The medic hedged, “I’ve patched what I can but he will need someone to keep an eye on the wound. We’re still some ways away from the next port but we’ll find a proper healer there.”

“I’ll look after him. Thank you…” he pushed himself to his feet. “Where is your captain?” The men pointed him across the deck to where a slight man was coiling rope, seemingly unconcerned with the new arrivals. He was dressed in a loose fitting shirt and a pair of garish calico pants.

“Cap’n.”

The supposed captain turned and Gerd’s first impression of the man was ‘pretty’. He had light brown hair and blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was handsome in a plain sort of way, surely a charmer in any tavern he wished. The bear’s second impression was Witcher. Which couldn’t have been right.

There was no such thing as a blue eyed Witcher.

“Jerome Moreau.” The man-maybe witcher introduced himself as he passed the rope off to a deckhand. At the silence he continued, “Maybe we should speak somewhere private.” Gerd followed him across deck, listening to the slow beat of his heart. The captain’s quarters were decently large and Gerd had the ability to put space between himself and ‘Jerome’ once the door was closed and the lantern lit.

“As I said, I’m Jerome School of the Griffin.”

He wasn’t sure why he snapped. Perhaps it was the time at sea, trying to hold together men on the brink of death while the only one who he could have turned to for help laid on a cot in pain. Perhaps it was how long it had been since he’d seen another of his kind. Perhaps he simply needed to hit something to keep his meager sanity. Perhaps, it was because there were no witchers with blue eyes.

It was a laughably short fight. An embarrassingly short fight that Arnaghaf himself would have thrown Gerd from the highest mountain peak should he have witnessed it in his youth. Seven days at sea with limited water and only small bites of food to stop the hunger pains had done him no favors: against a man he would have been fine, perhaps even against two or three by sheer luck of size. But against a witcher? He hadn’t stood a chance. The Griffin-turned-pirate ducked his blow and tripped him backwards, before he could hit the floor a strong hand pushed against his chest and slammed him against the wall, pinned him there on the floor while the stranger watched him with those blue eyes. Jerome bared his teeth and Gerd found himself far too close to fangs unlike any he’d seen before, a feral snarl tore from the other’s chest like a beast. It was a sound that the bear could do without hearing ever again. But, just as quickly as the anger came, it left and the Griffin spoke softly,

“I am not your enemy. Do not bring such strife onto my ship or I will not hesitate to feed you to the first kraken that threatens us. You and your men have been through a lot; I can see that.” Jerome shifted back on his heels and eased the pressure on Gerd’s chest. “If I cared about having another Witcher on board I would have left you to die. We Griffins are not quite as fickle as your lot.” he smiled as if sharing a joke. “Well, you are here, so tell me your name.”

“Gerd.”

“And your friend is Torgeir the Red then.” The Griffin moved away so that they were both sitting on the floor, Jerome with crossed legs and Gerd with legs akimbo from his fall. “Don’t worry, your safety on this ship is assured so long as I’m alive. We’ll reach a port in a week’s time, you’re welcome to go ashore and we won’t expect any payment for our help; though we’ll discuss other options later. For now, I think it best if you have a meal and rest. You can answer my questions once things have settled.” It was a very one sided conversation but Gerd had both too many questions to begin with and not near enough energy to ask them. If most of them were about the captain himself? Well,

He was a strange thing, even for a witcher.

Gerd was given a water skin for himself and Torgeir and the captain put them in a private room that was used to store trade cargo. It was empty for the next weeks, as had been explained to him by a young lad, and therefore made for a good place to rest. An extra cot had been dragged within. Torgeir’s fever broke after some hours and in the darkness Gerd watched him crawl from his heavy slumber. He hadn’t allowed him to get a word out before pressing the water skin to his lips.

“Drink.” He urged and the skin was nearly empty by the time Torgeir pushed his hand away.

“Where are we?” The room was black as pitch once the sun went down. “A ship came through to help us. We’re a week from port. Your leg… we’ll get you medicine for it soon.” “What?” Torgeir asked. “Fucking thing got infected. They’ve got a decent healer on board though. Stitched it up fairly nice.”

“Fucking great-” the red head pushed himself up and Gerd was quick to move closer and support him. “The others?” “We lost Ragnar and Beorn. The others are having dinner and resting. No sign of Nilfgaard chasing us so far.” With his lover awake and clear eyed Gerd felt the weight of the last week and a half hit him in full force. His eyes drooped and he began to list to the side like a sinking ship.

Torgeir shifted and pressed their shoulders together more firmly. “Come on, y’ bastard. Lay down.” “Can’t.” “You said we’re as safe as we can get. When’s the last time you slept?” Torgeir’s hand squeezed his thigh, kitten weak compared to what it should have been. When Gerd didn’t have an answer for him the jarl sighed. “Tha’s what I thought.” Gerd let himself be poked and prodded until he was reclined against the hull of the ship with rags and old feed bags piled behind him as a comfort. One leg stretched out in front of his while the other hung over the side of the cot, Torgeir laid between them. It was a familiar enough position even if the environment around them was not. He had planned to meditate again, afraid that if he slept then he would not wake for quite some time, but the moment that he had Torgeir’s weight against his chest his eyes closed and sleep dragged him under.

He woke when light spilled across his face, feeling only half as rested as he should have and mortified that he hadn’t been able to fight off the slumber.

Jerome was standing in the doorway, a white shirt half open across his chest and a look on his face that was far too soft. “Your crew demanded that I bring you something to break fast with. Andrea, I believe? She said that if you didn’t take it, I should send her in here in my place.” Again, that smile graced his lips. “I can leave it here and let you sleep.” It sounded good, to be able to close his eyes once more and sink into slumber. Perhaps to wake only when they were docked. He extended a hand instead.

“I’ll take it.” They were hunted men for all he knew. They would need their strength.

“Good,” as witchers they did not need to light an oil lantern and Jerome closed the door behind himself, some sunlight crept in from above. “While none here should voice any judgement, I would advise you to keep any overtly forward displays within this room or in my study should you need it. My men are good but they have loose lips in port, drunkards are not half as lovely.”

Gerd was handed bread and a bowl of thin porridge. It was meager for a man his size and even more so for two. But, they were a week from port and The Hawksea, as the Griffin’s ship was called, had not been prepared for five more bodies on board. Particularly not those of warriors and witchers.

“Thank you.” The words were rough.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll be putting you to work before long. Lots of things to do here that could use a witcher’s strength.” Jerome sat on a crate, one leg pulled up to his chest with his arm draped over it. “Can’t have any freeloading going on, might start talk of mutiny.” His eyes crinkled at the edges as if he’d spent a lifetime laughing rather than fighting monsters. Maybe he had, with a face like that.

“I thought you Griffins were supposed to be chivalrous bastards.” Gerd grunted.

“Chivalrous? Yes. Bastard? Most certainly.” Those fangs were flashed at him again. “I was under the impression you bears were the loner sorts.”

“We are.” Gerd didn’t miss the way Jerome’s eyes lingered on the redhead asleep on his chest. Caught even longer on the scarred arm wrapped around the human like a shield.

The Griffin hummed, “I see.”

The witcher left them alone with their breakfast and somewhere above them a man began to sing.

#witcher #witcher gerd #fic #my writing #sawb

5 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 4 years

Text

@hamelin-born

*kicks down door* Okay so I’m so sorry you’ve had a bad week, and since I am physically incapable of coming over and giving you a hug, I shall give you bby Dionysus being adorable with his (dead)relatives and Deleantur getting shipped by the local Galahdian bear woman instead!

...

The man shrugged and played with the edge of his cloak, “You may call me Herodotus. Or,” he added when he saw Dionysus’s face screw up at the long name —so many of his dream relatives had such long names that were hard—, “you can just call me Wander.”

“Wander?”

The soft smile grew bigger, mischievous, “It’s a nickname. I’ve never really been the kind of person to stay in one place for very long. Will that suit, Little Traveller?”

Dionysus mouthed the word, then nodded, “Wander.” He looked around them in curiosity, at the glowing flowers and living magic lights and trees bigger than buildings, “Where are we?”

“One of my memories,” Wander answered as he leaned back against the tree trunk, “my … safe place I suppose. Though I have had many over the years, this one was my first, so I suppose it is my favorite.”

“But where?” He’d never seen anything like this outside of storybooks. He wanted to go see it for himself when he woke up next.

Wander shook his head and looked amused, “I’m sorry, Little Traveler, but this is not a place you can find on Eos.” Dionysus stared at him with big eyes and Wander leaned in with a whisper and a gesture at his cloak, “When I was younger, I met a wonderful group of people who liked to travel as much as I did, and they showed me many things. Some of those were places that you could not, and will never, find on any map of Eos.”

Dionysus leaned closer, “Like the story of the magic rock that secretly led t’ the world of Hiso Hiso al’ens?”

Wander’s eyes glittered and his magic that draped around them felt like delighted laughter, “Just like that, yes. But my doorway wasn’t a rock.”

Dionysus looked all around in awe. He was in a secret world just like in the stories! Or the memory of a secret world anyway. He looked back over at Wander, “Did you fight an evil copy of your frien’? Did the copy try t’ de- delete the whole world ‘till you an’ Serah stopped it an’ saved all the Hiso Hiso?”

Wander’s shoulders shook a little, then stilled, “No. Nothing quite so exciting. But I did meet a woman with cat ears and a tail, and we did become good friends.” Dionysus gasped in excitement, and when Wander stood up and held out his hand, Dionysus took it without hesitation, “Come on,” Wander chuckled, “I’m afraid I cannot show you any aliens or evil copies, but I can show you a few other places I’ve been that no one on Eos will find.”

And he did. A few steps into the woods and the trees all turned to hills of sand and shimmering waves of sunny heat. Strange creatures with humps on their backs plodded slowly by in the distance, and in front of them was a tower that reached up to the sky all by itself. Wander told him that it was a dungeon, and that anyone who managed to reach the treasure at the very top would become a king and get magic of their very own. Dionysus asked him if he’d ever done it, if he had dungeon magic, but Wander shook his head and said he already had magic, so he’d let a friend take it instead. They plodded their way through a few shifting steps of sand and suddenly they were out of the hot sand and on an island in the sky. There was a strange ceiling high-high-high above their heads, and Wander told him that this was not one floating island, but a hundred of them all stacked on top of each other, each one just a bit smaller than the last so they didn’t block out all the sunlight for the levels below. Dragons swooped off in the distance, and when Wander led him to the edge and held him tight so he wouldn’t fall, Dionysus leaned over and saw nothing but thick clouds drifting below them.

They stepped back and the world became an ocean. They stood on the wooden deck of a ship and around them was bright blue water and flapping sails and before them was some kind of creature so big it was an island, it’s long legs plodding slowly through the sea with trees and buildings on its back. Wander told him that talking animals lived on the back of the big creature, and that very few people could find the island unless they were born there because it was always moving. He led Dionysus below decks and then they were on an island with a tree growing in the middle that was so tall and so big it had another, much smaller island sitting in its branches. The air tingled with old-friendly-amused magic that felt like laughter and mysteries, and Wander told him that this was the island of fairies.

He showed Dionysus a bunch of places, each one different and strange and amazing, each one with a little story to go with it that made Dionysus want desperately to know and explore more until the next one came and he wanted to see that one instead. Wander held his hand the whole time, steady and sure, making sure he never got lost or stepped too close to something dangerous. It was amazing and weird and exciting, and Dionysus decided he liked Wander a lot. Wander was different from the others, even Grandma Crepera. He didn’t seem to have any questions, and he didn’t mind answering all of Dionysus’s. He wasn’t grumpy, or loud, and there was … something about him. About his soft voice and the look in his eyes that reminded Dionysus of his dad.

... (And here’s Deleantur!)

He sensed someone approach through the outskirts of the crowd. Not that it was easy to miss someone as big as Chief Ligeia considering she stood a head taller than most of the other people here. He tipped his chin to her in greeting as she came to a stop next to him, a mug of something that smelled like alcohol in one hand. She grinned at him, all teeth and good humor, “Going to just watch? Or are you going to go have some fun?”

Deleantur shrugged and went back to crowd-watching, “I am having fun.” It wasn’t a lie, he found it both fascinating and entertaining to watch the party unfold before him. Galahdians weren’t all that different from the mainland in how they celebrated, but there were differences that were interesting to see. For one thing, there was a lot more dancing and singing. Even people taking a break at the makeshift feasting tables were all but dancing on the benches, feet tapping, heads bobbing- there was never a moment of stillness even from the groups lingering on the outskirts of the party to talk rather than dance.

The dances themselves were a lot more vibrant and energetic too. There were no royal waltzes here, but circle dances that dragged everyone nearby into them, or spinning dances where partners traded off at dizzying speeds. There was also a vaguely alarming number of somersaults, backflips, and instances of people climbing up trees and rubble like squirrels to better perform an acrobatic flip in time to the music, and not just from the children and the teenagers. He half suspected that the only reason the Elders weren’t doing such stunts were because they were physically too old and arthritic to pull it off.

Chief Ligeia scoffed, “Just watching is never fun. You should go out there and dance. Don’t want Stella to think you’re ignoring her, do you?”

Deleantur blinked at her, then glanced into the crowd where Stella was currently spinning and flipping in time with her little brother Eventus like some kind of circus performance rather than a dance for a party, “She knows where to find me if she needs me.”

Chief Ligeia slapped one of his shoulders hard enough that he had to bite back a hiss, “Not the point. You should be out there dancing with her. It’s good for young people like you two.” Deleantur gave her the flattest look he could manage and barely refrained from telling her that he was currently two thousand years removed from his date of birth —though that distance was technically in reverse—, even if he only looked to be twenty-six. But that wasn’t something he told anyone, especially not a party-happy stranger. Chief Ligeia rolled her eyes, utterly undisturbed by his look, and slapped his shoulder again in an effort to get him moving, “Go on.”

Deleantur raised an eyebrow and didn’t budge, “Why do you care?”

The Behemoth of a woman took a long drink from her mug, then answered blithely, “Because Candor is my second cousin and Stella is the best niece I ever had and I want her to be happy. You dancing with her will make her happy. So,” the woman moved with astonishing speed, so fast even Deleantur’s instincts and borrowed experience couldn’t stop her from bodily lifting him by the back of his tunic with one hand and all but toss him into the flow of the crowd, “go dance with her!” Deleantur staggered into the crowd, trying to catch his balance, then yelped as his hands were snatched up by a passing dancer and he was pulled into the flow.

... (and here, have a long snip of Buckler too)

They camped on the nearest Haven for the night, and Axis cooked dinner without comment while Nox fussed over his uncle and the redhead just sighed and complained about losing his shirts. He listened to them bicker, watched the way their shoulders slowly relaxed the longer Axis went without recoiling from them or acting afraid, and came to a decision. It was a reckless one, a stupid one even but … but it felt like the right one. He hadn’t asked about what happened, or how Ardyn had magic, but he knew what he’d seen and so did they. He knew not just one, but two of their greatest secrets now —that Nox was a Lucis Caelum, that Ardyn was a Lucis Caelum and couldn’t die—.

In the morning, before they could wander off into the wilderness again, Axis invited —ordered— them to come with him to Meldacio HQ. The two exchanged nervous glances before obediently following him on the trek up to the Vesperpool area.

If his wife was surprised when Axis turned up a week later with not just Nox in tow, but Niflheim’s Chancellor, she didn’t show it. She just smiled and welcomed them into their tiny house with a gesture and a promise of dinner soon. Nox’s eyes were wide as they shuffled in and Axis had known Ardyn long enough to spot the nervous edge in his sweeping bow.

Both of them went totally still when they spotted the playpen taking up most of the living room floor, filled with ratty stuffed toys that Axis had either purchased from Outposts or had been gifted by members of his, Tredd’s, and Luche’s Clans. Inside the playpen, Axis’s triplets —his treasures, his children, his greatest and most precious secrets— cooed and babbled eagerly at Axis, waving their hands and crawling around. His last visit hadn’t been that long ago, and they remembered him —the fact that he had been gone for long enough stretches when they were smaller that he’d been a stranger to them would always hurt—. Venia, his smallest and boldest, spotted Nox and Ardyn and babbled at them, fearlessly crawling up to the edge of the playpen to look at them. Axis reached in and picked her up, kissing her forehead and tickling her stomach with a hand to hear her laugh before turning to watch Nox’s and Ardyn’s reactions.

Nox was still staring at Historia and Spiritus in the playpen, a bright-eyed look on his face and a shiver of power in the air that felt protective. He looked at them like any of Axis’s remaining clan did, or how Tredd and Luche had first looked at them. Awe and protectiveness and already blooming adoration. Axis glanced at Ardyn.

Ardyn was staring at Venia, and the look on his face took Axis’s breath away. There was pure, open adoration there, wonder and a bright-edged fear, like just being near her would be enough to break her. Venia spotted Ardyn staring, dressed in all his clashing layers and colors, and giggled at him. She had never been afraid of strangers, and she didn’t hesitate to flail her hands in his direction, babbling with all the energy of a healthy nine month old. Ardyn flinched faintly away, even though her hands were nowhere near him, his own hands curling shyly inside his long sleeves like he was terrified of touching her.

Something in Axis’s heart broke a little.

No one as unexpectedly kind as Ardyn should fear being near a child.

“Her name is Venia,” Axis murmured, “that’s her sister Historia, and her brother Spiritus.”

“They’re so little.” Nox cooed as he crouched just outside the playpen, watching the two babies who stared back with far less fearless curiosity than their sister had —but not outright fear, Axis wondered if they too could feel Nox’s magic swelling around the room, rumbling with protective and already loving emotions—. Porrima reappeared at Axis’s elbow, reaching past him to pluck Spiritus out of the playpen. She gave their guests a considering look, then calmly reached out and plopped their son into Nox’s arms. Nox’s grip tensed, but his arms shifted into a proper position with a speed that looked instinctive, “Hey, wait-!”

Porrima ignored Nox’s breathless squawk and Spiritus’s wary coo, just picked up Historia and turned to face Ardyn, who had gone stiff as a board and deathly white, “Madam,” Ardyn said tensely, “I don’t think-.”

“Are you going to hurt them?” Porrima asked.

Ardyn’s jaw tightened, “Never, but I don’t-.”

“Are your arms so weak you’ll drop her?”

“No, but-.”

“Are you sick?”

Ardyn shook his head but kept shying subtly back, “I-.”

Axis sighed at his wife as she exchanged Historia for Venia, then turned and fearlessly stepped into Ardyn’s space to put their boldest daughter in the arms of Niflheim’s Chancellor —and the king’s unknown relative—. Ardyn went stone still as soon as Venia was in his arms, hands cradling her like she was fragile as glass and his eyes huge. Axis bounced Historia in his arms a little as he scolded, “Porrima. Don’t force them to hold the children if they don’t want to.”

“But they do want to, and it’s good for the triplets to meet new safe people,” his wife sniffed back. Then she flitted back to the kitchen without waiting to see the fallout of her actions.

Sometimes his wife trusted his judgement and choice of houseguests a little too much.

Axis sidled closer to Ardyn and held out an arm, “I can take her back if this really makes you uncomfortable.”

Ardyn stared down at Venia with the roundest eyes Axis had ever seen. Venia blinked up at her new handler, looked over at her dad, then looked back at Ardyn and clumsily patted his cheek, grabbing curiously at his red-violet hair a moment later. Ardyn inhaled, and Axis felt a second magic flood the room, old and powerful and monstrously protective. Where Nox’s was deep like the ocean, powerful but … subtle, like currents under the surface, Ardyn’s magic felt wild. It felt like the ripple of spotted fur in the jungle, the glimpse of fangs and teeth of a feral beast. Nox’s protective adoration of the little boy he was bouncing in his arms was like the pull of the tide, sweeping in and out with each breath, but Ardyn’s-. Ardyn’s was the rumble of a Coeurl’s purr as it curled around its cub, the singing edge of bloody steel, promising death to anyone that so much as looked wrong at Axis’s triplets.

Ardyn very slowly sank down onto the floor, legs crossed to form a lap for Venia to flop on, and when he looked up at Axis, his normally blue eyes were a brilliant, Coeurl gold, “They’re beautiful.” He whispered hoarsely.

#Melodies and Manuscripts #Nox verse #Nox verse Main #Deleantur verse #Blood of my Blood (That Was Shed On the Throne) verse #Child of My Blood verse #Secret Engima Rambles

67 notes · View notes

klynn-stormz · 3 years

Text

Written in the Stars

Hi everyone! Today is my day to drop my January Joy fic!! It was only supposed to be a one shot, but that didn’t work out so well, lol. I have split it into two parts and the second part should be posted within the next two weeks! So without further ado, here we go, I hope you enjoy it!

AO3: 1 |

Summary: Emma Swan is enjoying her small town life in Storybrooke, a place where she can raise her son, practice her magic, and lead a relatively normal happy life. What she doesn’t expect is Killian Jones moving to town for business and turning her quite life up on it’s head. She’s not about to let some stranger interrupt it, easier said than done when everyone, including her magic, seems to push them together

Part 1:

The snow-covered meadow glimmered under the full moon, a layer of untouched smooth snow had crossed the expanse of the forest Emma had walked through. There was something about the way the new snow shined brightly against the dark wood of the trees that made her think she had gone through a portal to a new enchanted realm. Under the watchful eyes of the moon and stars, Emma made her way to the middle of the meadow and took a moment to breath in the cold air. This was her favorite time, the sun had set long ago, the sound of the night animals was quiet and soothing, and not another soul was in sight. This was a time when she could be herself. She set her basket on the ground, it was already brimming with the herbs she had collected from the forest, and brushed the hood of her silvery white cloak off her face, then went to work on her favorite ritual.

The set up was easy; the symbols drawn in the snow, much easier than in the dirt in her opinion, the herbs needed laid on the outer circle, she stood with a goblet in the middle and uttered the enchantment into the still night. It was a little later this year than she normally preformed, but her duties in town kept her busy until nearly 10 days after the New Year. Henry had finally put his foot down and insisted she preform it tonight, seeing that it was affecting her so. Preforming it late wouldn’t stop the renewal ritual from working, as it always did, she had just felt off until she was able to perform it. The coven in town had performed one on at midnight of New Years, but she rarely participated in the coven activities, preferring instead to keep to herself.

Storybrooke was the perfect place for her and her son, from a young age her abilities had made it hard to stay in one home long. Left on the side of the road as a newborn she had been sent through the foster system, placed in families until her powers scared them to much for her to continue living there. Many hardships and trials had been sent her way, and each time she picked herself back up again. Eventually ending up in a quiet town of Storybrooke, finding others who practiced as she did. She wasn’t close to many of them, but they and all of Storybrooke had snuck their way into her heart and become family. Henry had taken to Storybrooke quickly, finding friends on the first day of school and worming his way into the hearts of all of the people there. His happiness at their newest home was what sealed her decision to stay, he needed stability and he needed a real home. Now, 5 years later, they were well settled in.

The ritual completed, the spell seemingly hanging in the frigid air, Emma breathed a deep sigh of relief. A feeling of comfort washed over her as the cleansing and renewal ritual did its job. She carefully picked up her basket and walked to the edge of the meadow, waving her hand the grooves she had created in the snow disappeared as if she had never stepped foot there. Making her way back through the woods to a cozy cottage at the end of town, one she was lucky enough to have a view of the forest and the ocean in, she could never have realized how the new year would change her life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re completely blowing this out of proportion!” Ruby complained.

“I’m really not.” Emma rolled her eyes while popping an onion ring into her mouth. She was having lunch with a few of her friends at Granny’s. Ruby was insistent on talking about the disaster that was Emma’s dating life, a topic that seemed to be a favorite among her, Mary Margaret, Ana and Elsa. “I’m not doing it again; I will not go through another Walsh incident.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, flushing slightly. “How was I supposed to know that he was a creep? He seemed so nice as the bank! Besides, I’m sure that this new man, his name is James, will be much different.”

Everyone at the table stared at her till she muttered something about Emma becoming an old maid. Normally Emma would be put off and make them promise to stop setting her up, this would be met with mumbling and no eye contact. Normally. Today was different though, it was a cold fresh February morning, and there was something in the air today that made her feel content and almost… safe. It was a rare feeling for her, even in Storybrooke she rarely felt that way. She wasn’t quite sure she could trust the feeling, not one to get her hopes up.

“I think we should get back to talking about Ruby’s date.” Elsa suggested. She was reserved, much like Emma, while her sister Ana was the most people person Emma had ever met. She gave Mary Margaret a run for her money on talking and gossip.

“I’d rather talk about the new ship that just sailed in!” Ruby deflected.

“Storybrooke has a fairly large port, why would a ship be anything special?” Ana paused, then hurriedly continued. “Not that ship isn’t special, I mean everyone is special so that must make it sort of special. Although, if everyone is special no one is right? Wait no, that’s from the Incredibles isn’t it, I need to stop falling asleep watching movies. What I’m trying to say is what makes this particular ship interesting? I’m sure it’s very interesting, but we do get ships in and out of port all the time, and they are all interesting too, especially the ones that trade in magic, but you never want to talk about those ones. I think that we need to discuss—”

“Okay, that could go on for awhile so I’ll just answer your question now. The Captain and his brother are major hotties and we definitely need to find out more about them.” Everyone at the table was aware that once Ana got started it was best to interrupt her before they spent an hour listening to her ramblings. The current record was actually an hour and twelve minutes before they couldn’t take it anymore.

“Of course, it would be because you think they’re attractive.” Elsa rolled her eyes at Ruby’s wiggling eyebrows.

“Oh, believe me, if I wasn’t in an exclusive relationship, I would eat them up.”

“I knew it! I knew you and Victor were finally serious.” Mary Margaret’s gleeful cry made Emma’s ears ring.

“As fun as this is, I better get back to work.”

“Emma you’re the sheriff you can make your own hours, it’s a Monday, nobody wants to work on a Monday!” Ruby whined.

“And as the sheriff, it’s my responsibility not to spend three hours talking about potentially hot newcomers at lunch and instead protect and serve.” She responded drily. Turning towards the door, she was met with a loud chuckle and vivid blue eyes staring into hers.

“I assure you, love, I wouldn’t mind if you continued to talk about my attractiveness.” The man gave her a grin that might have stopped her heart, she wasn’t quite sure at the moment, to lost in his eyes. His dark hair brushed over his forehead, she wanted to run her fingers through the strands and brush her palms against the stubble lining his jaw. When she got ahold of herself, she prayed that she hadn’t been staring to long.

“As I said, I have better things to do.” She sniped, her defenses up, even if they felt different. Normally her magic would be on edge with a stranger near her, but now it seemed to lean towards him.

That was ridiculous, she was just imagining it.

She hoped.

“Well, then it’s best I introduce myself to the law enforcement of this lovely town. Killian Jones at your service.” He bowed slightly and her eyebrows went up.

“Planning on needing the Sheriff’s department anytime soon Mr. Jones?”

“Only if the Sheriff is the one to respond.” His wink sent a shiver through her that she worked hard to keep hidden.

“Emma Swan then,” Forcing her voice to sound clipped and uncaring. He reached down and took her hand; the reaction of her magic was immediate. Bursting around her in little near fireworks that only she could see, she panicked and attempted to reign it in. Her magic never showed itself to other people unless she willed it to; not even Mary Margaret, Ruby or Elsa had ever seen it, though they knew she had it. He didn’t help any by lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. The magic continued to burst around her until he dropped her hand.

“I should be going.” A quick mumble and a nod of her head was the last thing he saw before she rushed out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the rest of the day Emma stewed over her magic, it had taken her a long time to come to terms with what she was, and even longer to learn to control it. As light magic was magic that was inherited and based on emotion, it was harder than dark magic. While dark magic took practice, research and patience, it did not require emotion; Emma’s magic was some of the strongest that Storybrooke had seen in a long time and they relied on her control over it to keep their little town off the radar of those who would exploit it. The local coven worked hard to protect the town, and expected her to do the same.

She needed to know why her magic reacted differently to him. A flash of Neal went through her mind and her stomach curled at the memory. A man who had taken advantage of a young girl all alone in the world, who had made her believe she was special. The only good thing she had gotten out of that relationship was Henry, and Henry would always be her top priority.

“Hey mom!” Henry barreled through the door, eyes bright and full of his adventures from school. Her shift finished, she grabbed her jacket, phone and radio, and hugged him.

“Hey kid, ready for some dinner? I was thinking pizza.”

“Works for me! We have a new project in English, we get to write a short story.” He dumped his backpack on her desk, then sheepishly picked it up at Emma’s raised brows. “I was thinking I could interview you about some of your magic and—”

“How about we get some dinner, go home and you can tell me your story over dinner?” Emma asked, grabbing the phone to order.

Later at their apartment, while they ate their dinner and had the tv playing in the background, Henry told her about his idea. He had gotten nearly to the end when he paused. “I don’t want to spoil the whole story for you.”

“I thought your teacher said you were supposed to write a short story kid.” She teased him, impressed with his imagination. He’d always had such a wonderful view of the world; Emma was pretty sure she would be buying copies of his books one day. “Why do you need to interview me?”

“Well, if the princess, Evil Queen, and Dark One are going to have magic I need to know how to write it! I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

“Alright, tell you what. You get all of your homework done on Friday, and on Saturday and Sunday we will go through a few basic.” He grinned and hugged her tight. When he was all tucked into bed and Emma was reading in her room, she couldn’t help but think of blue eyes and dark hair. Her magic sparked again, a light skittering across the room. She would worry about everything tomorrow. Banishing thoughts of him, she willed herself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian Jones had seen much of the world in his days, he had seen wonders and mysteries, magic and mayhem, good and bad people, and most everything in-between. As a Captain in the Navy, before he lost his hand in a tragic storm that he nearly lost his brother in, and as a sailor building a business with his brother when they left the Navy. He had been everywhere he’d ever dreamed. Yet, none compelled him as much as the blonde haired, green eyed sheriff that had magic bursting around her as he kissed her hand.

He’d heard the lasses at the table talking about him and his brother. The long-haired brunette excitedly exclaiming their attractiveness and looking for gossip about them, while the blonde goddess rolled her eyes and looked for an excuse to leave. Seeing her had nearly stopped his heart, he was quite sure of that, only to have it pounding in his ears when their eyes met and time stopped. He could have stared into them forever, wanting to lean closer and brush his lips over hers. He wanted to gather her in his arms and find a private room to kiss her till neither could breathe, after all he wouldn’t need air so long as he had her. He was brought back to himself by the sound of her voice, a bored tone with a hard edge, as if she was putting on a show with it.

Her eyes shined out at him and he was sure she felt the same as he had, though he was no less embarrassed at where his thoughts had gone immediately. He reigned himself in, flirting just enough with her to get her name. Emma Swan. Fitting, he mused, she had the elegance and grace of one, with high enough walls he knew he’d get pecked if he pushed.

He didn’t think he’d mind much.

The moment his lips touched her hand, the white sparks of magic had lit around them, fascinating him. He would have asked her what they were, but for the panic in her eyes when she realized what was happening. He pretended he saw nothing; it could wait till a later date. He had a feeling it would be long till the next meeting.

When she was gone, he’d ordered at the counter, found a table and waited for his brother. All of his thoughts revolved around Emma.

“She’s totally single you know.” Came a voice from behind. He turned in his chair to see the group of woman Emma had been with staring at him, a little bit of mischief in their eyes. The one who spoke gave him a wolfish grin. “In case you were wondering.”

“The sheriff?” He clarified.

“That’s the one, utterly single and refusing any sort of set up.” The woman with a pixie hair cut and the kindest eyes he’d every seen, replied. “She’s naturally suspicious of people, so you’d have to try pretty hard if you wanted anything to happen.”

“That is,” Now a woman with frost in her hair and ice in her voice spoke up. “If you’re planning on sticking around.” He smiled at that.

“My brother and I recently moved our business headquarters to this town, as it’s a good port and unique. We’ll be here for a long while.”

“Oh that’s just lovely! Emma takes awhile to warm up to people, but you’d definitely want her on your side since she’s the sheriff. Just don’t break any laws and annoy her and you’re good to go.” The final woman had a voice that sprinted instead of walked, he wasn’t sure her mouth was even moving at the speed the words came out.

“Thank you, ladies, for the advice. I’ll take it into account.” His brother walked through the door then and he was distracted greeting him, nodding a farewell to the women as they left. He smirked slightly when the icy woman ran into his brother and uttered a quick apology, the moment couldn’t have been more than ten seconds and his brother looked starstruck. Looks like they’d both have better reasons to make Storybrooke their new home.

Liam and he spent the next hour going over some of the logistics of moving the company. It was almost done, the last thing to deal with was selling the old building they’d had back in England. The move to Storybrooke would be better in the long run, while the port wasn’t as big as the one they’d been at, most of their business and suppliers were closer, saving them money in the long run, and they’d just signed three new contracts with new contacts.

Having heard of Storybrooke’s… unique circumstance, they were drawn to wanting to experience it for themselves. Their mother had been open about her magic from the time she had met their father, he had never really liked it, but dealt with it to be with her. She raised Liam and Killian to believe and practice as well, and though she had died when both were still young, her lessons had stayed with them when their father did not. Neither Liam nor Killian practiced regularly, feeling there were others much more talented that could keep the balance better. However, they preferred a place where they felt comfortable and free. Both had stepped off their ship onto the Storybrooke dock and could feel the rumors had merit. There was magic here, and it seemed to welcome them.

“Well little brother, it’s time to find some housing I believe. I’ve scheduled a meeting with a realtor tomorrow who will walk us around some of the houses they have here.” Liam clapped his brother on the back, heading towards the back that led to the Bed and Breakfast rooms they’d booked for the week.

“You mean younger brother,” Killian corrected. “and as long as you know I’m getting my own place then that should be fine.”

“Of course, you’re not living with me anymore. It’s time for you to stop mooching off of me and get your own space.” The teasing tone made Killian roll his eyes as he bumped into his side a little harder than necessary.

“Goodnight Liam, see you tomorrow.” Killian went to sleep and dreamt of green-eyed swans and magic.

#captain swan fanfiction #cs ff #klynn-stormz #cs january joy 2021

34 notes · View notes