#and now i can't stop thinking about herb smells and magic. this man is a walking miasma sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghouljams · 6 months

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Let Me Keep You(Here's My Name, Burden Me) Rating: Explicit (MDNI) Word Count: 4k Tags: John Price x f!oc/reader, first time, fluff, virginity loss, dirty talk, oral (f!receiving), piv sex, minor breeding kink, confessions, fae au, witch!reader Summary: "When I fuck you," Price breathes, brushes his lips against yours, "and I will fuck you, Sweetheart," he assures you, "I want it to mean something.” That was months ago, months of wondering when he'd finally decide you meant something. Well, the dam can't hold forever, and when it breaks it's not courage that parts your lips.

“What was that perfume you were wearin’ when we first met?” Price asks you out of the blue. You glance up from your cauldron in time for a cloud of purple smoke to belch out of one of the oil slick bubbles.

“I don’t know,” You really don’t. You don’t even know if it was a perfume, or if it was a combination of herbs you’d been working with. You stir your potion thoughtfully. “If you could describe it,” You decide, “I might be able to tell you.”

Price hums, he does that when he thinks, it’s terribly charming. You like how he fills your space with noise. Both of you know that he’s as silent as fresh snow, but for you he’s as loud as an elephant. It’s comforting, in some strange little way, always being able to hear him near you. It’s harder to be alone. Clearly. You- Logically you know he’s there, but it’s- you shake the thought from your head, no sense tainting your potion with ill advised sorrows.

“Like dry grass on a warm day,” Vetiver you note, “and honey without the sweetness.” Citrus, potentially, wildflower likely. You tick mental boxes, sorting through your mental catalog. What were you shopping for that day? Were you killing time on a spell?

“Anything else?” You ask over your shoulder.

“Summer, but that was probably from-” you hear the rustle of fabric as he waves his hand behind you.

“From the garden,” you finish with a smile.

“Smelled expensive, dark, like that red dress you’ve got,” he leans back in his chair and you hear his heels tap against the wood of your kitchen table as he kicks them up, “Should wear that for me some time, hugs ya’ in the prettiest places.”

“The perfume, darling.” You remind him, and he clicks his tongue.

“Keep callin’ me that sweetheart, and you won’t remember either.” He smiles when you glance at him, arms crossed over his broad chest. The relaxed posture shows off his arms well, his sleeves wrapped tight around his thick biceps. Temptation in a man. You have to stop letting him in when you’re trying to work.

“Why are you asking about my perfume?” You redirect the conversation. You doubt Price has suddenly taken an interest in aromachology, and you doubt he’s looking to buy you a gift considering all his are magic related.

“I want you to wear it tonight,” He replies plainly.

“Are we doing something tonight?” You don’t think you’ve forgotten anything. No date night on your calendar for tonight, no holiday or witches gathering.

“I’m goin’ to fuck you.”

Your potion explodes. You cough and sputter against the smoke, the pink dazzle of failed intentions attempting to choke you as your entire body bursts with heat. Price snaps his fingers and the smoke is sucked out your garden door like a vacuum.The mixture is still bubbling in your pot, though now it simmers at a nice vibrant red. A love potion instead of a protection potion. You’ll have to start over.

“That’s hardly romantic,” You tell Price, because you have no idea how to respond in a way that doesn’t scream “I’m a virgin.” Price spins you to face him, silent in his movements, and draws up the apron around your waist to wipe off your face. You’re sure you’re a sight, covered in pink and barely able to look at him.

“I’m givin’ you time to say no,” He explains, patiently. You take your apron from him and finish scrubbing your cheeks.

“I can’t say no during?” You joke. Price settles his hand on the counter behind you and leans close.

“You can, but you won’t want to.” Another burst of heat courses through you at how serious he sounds. You swat him away to clean up your potion. You don’t think you’ll be able to get any magic done today.

Price monopolizes your day. Monopolizes your thoughts anyway. You can’t concentrate on any of your spells, your workspace tainted with him. He drips into every corner of your home, his smoke filling the cracks and crevices. You’ll have to cleanse the whole space the next time you want to do anything.

He’s quiet too, which is the worst part. It makes you nervous, like he might be rethinking. Yet each time you turn to look at him he’s staring at you, his eyes warm and full of open affection. You can’t look at him for long, and you always turn away with your cheeks burning. The way he looks at you, like you’re the missing piece he’s been looking for…

“You’re staring,” You tell him, after dinner, you mean it to be chastising.

“Am I?”

“It’s distracting.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He almost could pass as concerned, if it weren’t for the crooked smile, the slight smirk that says he wouldn’t even if you asked. Truthfully you don’t want him to stop, you like the way he looks at you.

“When are we going to-” You wave a hand, feigning nonchalance. He catches it and kisses your knuckles.

“Whenever you want,” He smiles more genuinely, his eyes crinkling at the edges, “Just say the word sweetheart.”

You shed your skirt on the way into the bedroom, his fingers tug down the zipper as you walk, and you’re more than happy just stepping out of it. Happier still when Price hauls you up and drops you on the bed. He crawls over you and you cup his face to kiss him. Each slick slide of his lips against yours makes heat pool in your stomach, something warm and anticipatory taking hold as he breaks away to slide down your body.

Price kisses your stomach, laves his tongue against the soft skin and sucks appreciatively. His beard tickles, and you squirm without meaning to. He explores the exposed skin with his mouth, his hands sliding your shirt up to give himself more room. There’s something reverent in the way he moves you, helps you tug your jumper off and smooths his rough hands over you. His hands knead your breasts through your bra, kissing them where they push against the fabric. His eyes meet yours as he does, and you bite down a smile.

“Take it off,” he orders, sitting back to give you room. You sit up and fiddle with the hooks in the back while he strips his shirt off. You get a little distracted by the broad well muscled expanse of his chest, the dark hair. He pushes you back down against the bed, a finger hooked in the front of your bra to pull it off as you fall. He’s rather good at this, you think before he’s kissing you again. His hands cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. You press into his hold, feel his tongue slide against your lips, and open your mouth to suck on it. He pushes his hips against yours, the fabric of his pants making you feel all the more naked under him.

You want to feel him, really feel him.

His hand disappears, fabric rustles and Price lets out a breath. You glance down to see he’s taken his pants off, his hard cock standing proud against the swirls of hair that trail up his stomach. You snap your eyes back to his face, and his brows raise.

“See somethin’ you like?” He smiles, and you shrink down against the bed. Very much so, but you don’t want to stare. “Plenty of time for that later,” He tells you, “For now-” He sits back, tugs your panties down. He follows their journey down one leg, kissing your thigh, knee, your ankle, until he can toss them to the floor. Then his attention falls heavily onto you.

He presses your hips more firmly against the bed, holds them hard enough to bruise, and you watch the rise and fall of his chest as he stares between your legs. The usual ice of his eyes has been swallowed by the deep hungry black of his pupils. It makes you squirm to be under such a heady inspection. His brows twitch, his head tips, the slight movement making you twist your fingers in the bed sheets.

"Fuck," he groans, before snarling, "fuck." He falls into you, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling them up over his shoulders as he buries his face against your cunt. His tongue licks a broad stripe over you and you jerk against his hold, a nervous giggle falling unbidden from your lips. You've never done this before but you probably shouldn't be laughing.

"Wait, Price," you try, your fingers shake as you press them against his hairline, threading them through the short brown strands. He growls, glares at you, like a dog trying to protect its bone. Your breath hitches.

His tongue prods at your clit, rolling over it with firm strokes. It's wet, warm, and well practiced. It sparks in your stomach, making it jump as you shiver and tighten your grip on his hair. His fingers only hold you more firmly, anticipating every squirming movement of your hips as his tongue wiggles against you. You whine, press the back of your free hand against your lips and try to stifle the noises he draws from you. Though he doesn't seem to be doing the same.

Every low groan and slurp at your leaking cunt sends another shock of heat through you. You whimper when he sucks at your clit and he responds in kind.

"Good girl sweethear', taste so fuckin' good." Your cheeks burn, at the gravel in his voice. Your head feels hot and your body feels tight. His tongue presses into you, licks over you, like he's starving for it. He laughs when you buck your hips against his mouth, a deep throaty chuckle that doesn't help the heat in your face, "Knew you'd squirm."

You swallow, press your hand a little more firmly to your lips. Price lifts his head enough to let you watch his tongue flick against your clit, his eyes trained on the jump of your stomach, all the soft parts of you he likes best, absolutely burning for him. "Squirm for me baby," he tells you, amusement clear in his voice, "show me how much you like it."

You twist in his hold when he lowers his mouth back down to suck on your clit. You try to, at least. He's strong enough to keep you in place, almost like you hadn't moved at all. It's cruel really. You try a different approach, grinding your hips with the movement of his tongue. He allows it, guides your hips with firm hands, his nose grinding against your clit as his tongue presses into you.

You whine, short and high, your fingers tugging at his hair as you arch your back. Everything feels so tight between your legs, so slick and warm. Price’s tongue twists against your cunt, pushes in and out of you in a maddening dance. He presses sucking kisses to your folds, lapping up every drop of your slick with deep satisfied groans.

“God,” He growls against your cunt, drunk on you, “could eat you whole-” He hums, and you squirm as the sound vibrates around your clit, “-doing so good for me.” You nod, every inch of you blazing, you’re sure you must be a sight for him. “So good,” He mumbles. He sucks at your clit, the pressure tugging at the swollen nub released only to be started all over again. One of his thick fingers presses into you and your breath hitches.

“Price,” You tug at his hair to get his attention, your hips raising with tense tingly pleasure as he curls his finger against your gooey walls. He strokes inside your cunt firm and delicate, hardly listening to you. Your legs shake, on either side of his head.

“You gonna cum sweetheart?” The low timber of his voice makes goosebumps rush over you. You nod, mutely, and he wiggles a second finger in beside the first. “I know,” he coos, “I know baby, can feel it.” His fingers pump in and out of you, hitting something that makes your stomach jump and clench. “Go on,” He tells you, “cum on my tongue, give it to me, hard as you can.”

The tight heat breaks into desperate trembling, your stomach jumping as you squeeze his head between your thighs and try to wriggle away from the constant rolling pleasure of his tongue. You moan, rock your hips against his mouth, squeezing and pulling him as close as you can. Fuck do you want to get away or stay like this? You don’t know. It’s too much and not enough. You can feel your body fluttering, clenching on his fingers greedily. Price’s groans are desperate, hungry, indulgent, his eyes hot as they watch you fall apart.

Your cunt sucks at his fingers, trying to draw them in further, clench on them tighter. He keeps stroking that soft spot inside of you as his tongue laps up the slick that pools around them. His mouth is sinful, sweet torture that doesn’t stop even after you’ve cum. His beard scratches your thighs, smears your wetness over them as he kisses the soft skin. His fingers don’t leave you, even when his mouth does, they keep stretching you out, toying with your cunt. You shake and shiver for him, unsure what to do with yourself as he watches you.

“Could drive a man mad, lookin’ at ‘im like that,” He tells you, kissing your bent knee. You tug at the blankets, press your hips down against his fingers. Price hums, thinking, his eyes rake over you as he leans close. “Stick out your tongue baby,” He murmurs, and you do without fuss. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, closing your eyes when his tongue presses against it, licking over the wet muscle with firm strokes before sucking it into his mouth. You do your best to keep up. The way he kisses you, dips his tongue into your open mouth, feels dirty, makes your head spin.

You whine against his lips when his thumb rubs against your clit. The calloused digit pressing firm against your sensitive bud, as he pulls back to watch his spit drip into your mouth. You swallow it all too eagerly, and pant against his lips. You grip his shoulders as he dips down to suck at your neck, your voice soft and high, pleading, in his ear. You need something to hold onto as he sparks pleasure up your spine. You’re just starting to shake again when he pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt.

You grab for his wrist to put it back, you’re warm and throbbing, and you’re so close. He just stares at you, chuckles a little when he grabs your wrist and brings it to his lips. Price sits back, holds your hand with slick soaked fingers, and grabs his cock around the base. You suck in a breath at the size of it. It looks so long and thick, is that really going to fit inside of you? Did he stretch you enough?

“Look at that, mm,” Price sighs, rubbing the tip of his cock through your wet folds, “pretty little pussy.” He feels bigger than he looks, the head of his cock just catching at your entrance with each stroke. It bumps against your clit, mixing pre-cum with your slick. You watch him move, watch the way his cock drools against you, with libidinous eyes. You chew on the inside of your cheek, raising your hips to try and convince him to fuck you already. He hums, his smile, his eyes flicking to meet yours, all too hot for a man from Winter.

“Beg for it,” He tells you, “You want this cock, I wanna hear you beg.”

You want to, you want to beg so badly, but you feel like all the words have left you feeling him twitch against you. You let out a shaky breath and give him the only word you have left. “Please,” you shudder, “Please, plea-”

He presses against your entrance, the fat head of his cock slipping inside, and you gasp. Price murmurs something to you that you don’t catch, too focused on the roll of his hips as he eases his cock into you. Your eyes roll a little, breath uneven as his girthy cock stretches you out. The burn of it is sinful, absolute bliss, and you feel yourself run a little hotter with each thick inch. There’s so much of him, and you’re so full already.

He stops, his breaths ragged, releases your hand to grip the backs of your thighs and press them up against your chest. The new angle forces Price’s cock deeper, letting the veins of it drag against that squishy soft spot in you. You squeak, and he shushes you. “Needed a better-” Price groans, “fuck sweetheart, you’re so tight, such a good girl.” He eases another inch into you, you try to raise your hips and find yourself pinned under his weight. “Just a bit more baby,” He drags his lips against your gasping mouth, “you can take it, know you can.”

You don’t know if that’s true, when his hips finally settle against your ass you’re shaking with the effort of keeping still for him. He lets out a sigh, smoke dripping down over you, filling your lungs the way his cock fills your cunt. It makes you a little dizzy, dizzy enough you don’t notice he’s pulling out until he snaps his hips and fills you again in one clean motion. Then that’s all you feel.

The maddening drag of his cock against your gummy walls, all slick friction and heat that pulses through you, makes you gasp and whine. Pretty sounds just for him, just for the way his hips smack against you. He hits some impossibly deep part of you, and doesn’t stop hitting it. Each thrust winds you tighter and tighter, makes you clench and drip around his cock.

He releases his hold on your legs, lets you wrap them around his waist as he settles comfortably over you. His lips drag along your jaw, the scratch of his beard making you tip your head. He’s so warm, or maybe he’s reflecting your own heat back to you. Either way you feel wrapped up in him. His smoke, his mouth, his cock. Fuck, his cock.

"Be a good girl and play with that clit, rub it real nice for me," Price mumbles, you whine and reach between you to rub yourself, "there you go sweetheart, clenchin' on me so well." You can feel him thrusting into you like this, grazing your fingers against his cock as you rub tight circles. Everything is hot and wet. Your stomach clenches as he pushes in deep. Each drag of his thick cock is a delicious build on the already tight heat coiling in you.

"I- mm," You squeeze your eyes shut, tip your head back as your back arches. You've never felt anything this good.

"No, no, eyes open sweetheart," He coaxes, his hands hold your face, tip your head forward, "Want you to look at me."

You don't want to, it feels easier to keep them closed, but you want to be good for him. Every time he praises you it feels like your skin gets a little hotter, and it's so- you always thought you were good at taking compliments, but the way he says them, so low and filthy, makes you want to stutter like a nervous little girl. He doesn't stop fucking you, but he does slow down, gives you a small reprieve to open your eyes in. When you do, you're immediately treated to his smile.

"Don't look away, unless you're looking at-" he tips your head forwards so you can look between you at where his cock pushes into you, "-that." He groans as your breath hitches, eyes fixed on the fluid motion of his hips. You clench around the stretch of his thick cock. You can see the dark curls at the base wet with your slick, the muscles of his thighs moving, the bruises he's left on your hips.

Your legs curl towards your chest again, shaking, the feeling of his cock pounding into you suddenly too much all at once. You bite your lip to keep quiet, as your orgasm breaks over you. Wet heat slapping slick noise to the pump of Price's cock, and snapping over your spine as you arch your back. You've trained yourself so well you don't even notice you're biting down your moans.

"Speak," Price commands and you can't help the tumble of noise that falls from you as your mouth opens. Soft swears and pleas and his name like a prayer, over and over. He groans, catches your desperate mouth with his own and fucks you. His full balls knock against your ass as his hips piston into you.

"Price, God, Price," you whimper, clawing at his back. His cock hits you so deep at this angle, your toes pointing as he keeps you full of him.

"John," he whispers, kissing into your vernacular. John. You breathe his name in. You knew it. John the conqueror, the morning's glory, the Highest exalted, remover of obstacles, dominator of will. Yours to be known.

"John," you sigh. Yours to keep, but never use. A shiver racks through him, you wonder how many times in his long life he's heard his name. He puts himself in your hands without asking for the same in return, but you want to give it to him. You want his admission to mean something. You whisper your name between kisses, feel the twitch of his cock as he rolls his hips against yours, the stutter in his breath. You love him, you love him, you love him.

It's real and terrifying and it strings between you so heavily you can't ignore it. He says your name, whispers it, and it’s like you’ve never heard it before. You shake, shiver with sensitivity as you feel hot cum flood your cunt. Price’s hips don’t stop, fucking his thick seed deep into you with a low groan. Fuck you could cum again just feeling him wiggle his hips against your poor cunt, like he’s trying to make sure it all stays in.

He sighs, more smoke pouring from his lips before he can kiss you. Sweeter this time, but no cleaner. You push your tongue against his, arching your back to press up into his chest, feel the click of your teeth when you press a little too close. Desperate, you’re so desperate for him. How could you ever not be? You could go again, you want to go again. He chuckles against your lips, and you do your best to swallow the sound.

“Easy,” He tells you, the low timber of his voice rumbling through you, “we’ve got all night.”

You wake up heavy and warm. There’s a pleasant ache low in your back, and an arm slung over you. You close your eyes against the sunlight streaming in the window, and cuddle back against Price, put yourself in his hold without fear. There’s a weight in your chest that feels too important to touch, so you don’t. You can feel it though, as clearly as you feel Price stir behind you, feel him hook his leg over yours. It’s natural the way you fit together.

You wiggle, turn to face him. He doesn’t open his eyes, just waves his hand to make the curtains close and lets you cuddle close. You kiss his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You gave him your name, and you’re still here. Still breathing, still laying here with him. Easy as anything. This is real, you think, he’s real. He’s not going anywhere, he’s not using you for anything, he wanted this to mean something. It does mean something. He means something to you, something you didn’t have a word for until now. Funny how sex makes things so much clearer.

“I love you,” you whisper to him, sure he’s still sleeping.

“Marry me,” He whispers back, like he’d been hoping you’d say something.

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the-kr8tor · 2 months

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Starlight and Seafoam

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 6.9k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, CW food mentions, TW death, CW injury.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 10 >>> CHAPTER 11

The street is bustling and teeming with people as you pay for the new mortar and pestle that you've been saving for a long time. The coins clink on the counter as you drop it on the wood. You hate to see your hard earned money go but you're glad that you have your very own mortar and pestle in exchange.

“Careful now it's heavy.” The old shopkeeper smiles at you.

“I've got it, thank you!” You heave the heavy stone in your small arms, waddling towards the door, struggling to open it with both arms occupied, a kind gentleman opens it for you and you smile politely, your mother didn't raise you to be rude after all. “Thank you, sir.”

“You're welcome.” The stranger says with a gruff voice, his large frame casts a shadow over you, fancy clothes making you gawk. Gold threads sewed into the finest cloth. His brown eyes only spares you a quick once over, tufts of chestnut hair flowing in the breeze, chiseled face turning towards the shopkeeper.

Walking out of the store, the door shuts closed behind you. Eyes still glued to the rich man, someone taps you on your shoulder.

“Careful, kid, that one can and will buy you if you don't stop gawking.” Sherry, an old neighbor of yours warns you. Her husband shushes her, eyes rolling at her gossiping. “Don't you shush me, Mickey, I'm right y’know!”

“The bloke's right there, love!” Mickey whisper shouts, he turns towards a customer, scowl disappearing, smiling politely over the vegetable stand.

You notice some people whisper too, from the butcher across the street to the florist on your right. Their main topic is the mysterious rich man in the store you just left.

Sherry clicks her tongue, slyly beckoning you over, whispering close in your ear. She smells of lettuce and cigars.

“Listen, girl,” you nod, trusting the adult. “you better get home ‘cause word around town is that wanker right there is a skin trader.” She says the word with malice. “See his fancy dancy clothes? He got ‘em from selling children like yourself.”

“What's a skin trader?” You ask, eyes wide and concerned. The mortar and pestle gets heavier in your arms.

“Didn't dear old mum warn you about ‘em?”

“Stop scaring the poor child, Sher.” her husband warns, busy with a line of customers while his wife gossips with a thirteen year old.

“This ‘ere is a private conversation, Mickey!” She turns back towards you, “Jus’ be careful, kiddo. I like you, you've got ‘em magic hands with them herbs. I don't want you gettin' sold off to a noble house, yeah?” you nod, “Stay away from him and you'll be good.” Shrugging, she pats your head.

“I don't think my mum would sell me.” You say with a small voice, fingers grazing over your necklace that's tucked under your blouse.

She scoffs, “tell that to little John, he was sold off for a bag of coins a few days ago.”

“Sher.” Mickey warns as your blood runs cold.

You know John, you've played with him a few times even though he runs his mouth like a sailor. Now you know why you haven't seen him around town. Nerves alight, you stay away from the shop's door.

Home calls for you, but you still have other errands to run.

“I've gotta go, thank you, Sherry.” You start to walk away with heavy strides and worry written on your face. She won't do that right? You thought. She loves me like her own, she can't— won't do that to me.

Mickey calls you back, “oh Y/N, grab a few of these for you and your mum, yeah? I know they're your favourite.” he smiles, putting a handful of cherry tomatoes inside the mortar.

“Thank you!” You smile, “It's her favourite too!”

“Aye, I know.”

His wife slaps him upside the head, “the fuck you mean ‘you know?’”

You leave before you get stuck in the middle of their argument. In your peripheral, you see the well dressed man leave the store without buying anything, he walks over to Sherry and Mickey. You don't stay long to hear their conversation.

—

Despite hurrying home, you end up walking towards the cabin with the sun already setting. Leaves crunch under your foot as you yawn, but your smile stays on your lips, happy enough that you have your newly purchased instrument in your arms, even though it's extremely heavy combined with the old canvas bags on your shoulder full of supplies you and your mother needed for the rest of the month.

Finally seeing the small cabin makes you weary, wanting to lay down in bed until she calls you for supper. Based on the smoke billowing from the chimney, you guess she already started cooking for dinner.

The heavy door creaks open as you push it open with your shoulder. “Mum, Mickey gave us cherry tomatoes! And you can't believe what I just heard—”

You freeze in the doorway, your mortar and pestle falls in your arms, clanging loudly on the wooden floor, it splits in half as the cherry tomatoes tumbles out of the mortar.

There he stands, the same well dressed man handing your guardian that you call mother, loved like your own mother, hugged like your own mother a bag of coins. They both pause in their movements.

The man cages you with his stare, an unreadable expression on his face, hazel eyes reflecting the fire in the hearth, turning it to crimson.

“Mum?” you frown, tears brimming in your eyes.

She can't, she won't but she still did it.

“Y/N, this is—”

“How could you?” You ask, broken, heart left split in half like the mortar on the floor.

She looks at you apologetically, hand reaching towards you instinctively. Your home seems to suffocate you.

The man exhales sharply like he's in pain. “I passed by her a few hours ago. She looks just like—”

You don't let him finish.

Bolting away with only the clothes on your back and the spare change in your pockets, you run as fast as you can without looking back.

“Love?” Hobie says it tenderly that you thought he was calling for someone else, again. “Love?” He calls a bit louder.

Hobie wakes you up back to reality, back to his hold. His thumb wipes the tears sliding down your cheeks, eyes glazing over. He sits on the edge of the pool, the fire next to him warming his drenched clothes whilst you float with only his hand anchoring you near him.

“I'm sorry.” He whispers.

You twist around in the water, arms placed on the ground next to him, fingers twisting around the frayed thread on his pants. Chin resting atop your elbow, you watch the fire crackle and burn timber.

Hobie's hands slide over to your nape, caressing softly, hoping it would make up for what you've lived through. He knows it doesn't, but he still wants to try.

After minutes of silence and listening to your soft sniffles, the warmth of the afternoon sun and fire illuminating your deep frown and tear stained cheeks. Hobie breaks the quiet.

“MJ—” for a second you thought he's calling you by her name again, and it shatters your heart all over again. “She…she was—”

“Don't tell me just because I told you mine.” You look up at him with sadness underneath your eyes. “Only tell me when you're ready.” He nods, squeezing you in thanks. “I told you mine because someone else has to know, just in case—”

Hobie knits his eyebrows. “In case of what?”

In case I die, in case I decide to stay on the island and you leave. In case, in case. You have a lot of them but you spare him the heartache. He'd do the same. Someone has to know your story, that's how you can live forever, you remember her old words.

You shake your head, “nothing.”

He understands, “alright, keep your secrets.” flicking his eyes down, he observes your fingers mindlessly playing with its thread. “Stop tryin’ to take my trousers off, you can just ask.”

You chuckle softly, the first time he's heard it since you sobbed in his arms a week ago.

“You wish, Hobie.”

He dramatically clasps his hands together, eyes closed like he's in prayer. “I wish Y/N would just ask me to take my trousers off.” He laughs, almost not finishing his own joke because of it.

You pinch his leg, earning a yelp from the pirate captain. “You always say something that ruins the moment.”

“You were chuffed though”

“Mm-hmm.”

He looks towards the beach right in between the trees. “It's finally low tide. C’mon, scuttlebutt, I've got somethin' to show you.” He stands up, giving you a helping hand.

“I swear if it's another pair of crabs fucking—”

“That was one time, get up or we might get stranded.”

“We're already stranded.” he frowns at your words.

You've been down since the night you cried in his arms. He's worried, properly so, used to the embers in you, used to the loud banter, it's only right that he worries. You're on your last legs, everything that has happened managed to catch up to you, and for him it's crawling up his neck like a swarm of ants, biting and nipping at him. But you're the priority, his priority, if you fall then he would tumble harder, landing on his face with a sickening crunch.

He doesn't mind, not finding it cumbersome, because you'd do the same for him too. Or he hopes you will.

Hobie has tried everything to make you feel better, caught fish the right way even though it made his blood boil with impatience and frustration. Shot at a seagull with the last of his bullets for a variety of meat that only made you sob for how tough it was. Not even chocolate can brighten your mood nowadays. He even postponed leaving the island until you're back to your usual self. But he knows you two can't stay here forever or the ants might finally reach his head, gnawing at his cheek, eating through his skin. Or worse, kill the fire inside you.

As a last resort, he has thought of a plan, although it's a gamble, a toss of a coin, whether or not it might make you feel worse or better then it all depends on how he acts. Hope is his main choice of weapon yet hope can kill you too.

Hobie huffs, crouching down to face you. His voice is soft. “We're not stranded, we're leaving tomorrow but before we do I have somethin’ to show you.” You look up at him with a frown.

You don't even want to leave anymore. What's waiting for you once you get on land? Nothing, nothing's waiting for you, just more longing for a family you might have and you might never have. And you're frightened at what awaits you.

“Do you want to really leave?” You ask forlornly.

“As much as I love our days here surviving, we have to leave eventually.” He's not sure either, he wants to stay with you but he has responsibilities to the crew and you. He knows you can't stay here or he might never see the fire blaze inside you again. “All I know is my crew might be waitin’ for us, yeah? Now get up.”

Might and Us, the words are a mind killer for you recently.

“Y/N, I know it's hard,” he cups the back of your head. “But you have to stand up, could you do that for me? I'll walk with you the entire time, I promise.”

“What if—?”

“Don't, remember what I told you? Don't let ‘em kill you for the second time.” His eyes bore into you. “Please? C’mon you even got me sayin’ please.”

With an exhale, you manage to clasp your hand in his. Hobie lifts you up to your feet. Water sloshes as you leave the pool, clothes drenched, air making you shiver.

“You hang around me too much.” Hand still in his, he leads you out to the eastern side of the island. “You've become too polite.”

“Is that supposed to be horrible?” Hobie takes his hand away for a moment to grab his vest that's hanging from a branch. “You're not even that polite.” he drapes it over your shoulders, taking your hand back in his hand.

Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, his scent clinging to you like the heat on your cheeks. You put your arms inside, wearing his vest proudly like a medal. Laying your cheek on his shoulder, he laces his fingers around yours, squeezing it tenderly.

It all seems natural to you now, all the wordless affection and care that you both act upon. You know this won't last the moment you two leave the island. So you savour it as much as you can, letting all of it linger in your mind, tucking it away until you need to relive it along the way.

“I'm polite,” you walk on soft leaves to grainy sand, the low tide providing a way towards a smaller island with rocky terrain. The sun beams just behind it, it's a beautiful sight but Hobie's eyes are on you. “If I want to.”

“Sure you are.”

He moves your intertwined hands behind him so he could exchange it with his unoccupied hand, holding you close. Like a moth to a flame, you half embrace him, hand on top of his waist, grasping softly at his skin, memorizing every indent. His warmer hand rests atop yours, while the other has managed to snake around your shoulder, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

Like broken pieces of a shattered glass, you fit together.

Hobie drowns in all of you. Your scent and touch leaving a mark on him, not like a scar that says that you've hurt him in the past, no, it's much more like a wound, a wound that he'd gladly let fester just so he can revisit you, revisit how you look like when you smile or cry, revisit how your soft palms touches his marred flesh.

He'd poke, prod and bleed the wound just to feel your touch again.

It's a lot harder to walk entangled together on the sandy bridge that connects your island to the other, but you two don't seem to mind as you leave your footprints on the sand.

“We have a couple of hours to explore before high tide or we'll get stuck here for an entire day.”

Would that be so bad?

You hum, “explore what?” Voice muffled by his shirt, he rubs softly at your upper arm, warming you.

“You'll see, I know you'll like it.”

“Great, you're gonna kill me.” You joke monotonously.

“Never,” he whispers into your hair. “I'd do it on our island instead.”

You chuckle, “how would you do it?”

“Stake to the heart.” You almost didn't understand him whilst his face is buried in your hair. “Classic.”

“Or you could choke me with the pomegranate seeds.”

“You'd like that, huh?” you can feel his smirk atop your head and you swear he kissed you faintly like a feather landing on you.

“I don't mind dying by fruit. Better yet, death by chocolate.”

“I'd mind, it would be hard to do that. Just think of the bloody logistics.” you two stop walking, finally reaching the tiny patch of land.

“For a second there I thought you didn't want me to die.” He leans away, hand still clasped in yours.

“That too.” You smile at him genuinely. Hobie enters the crevice in the wall, jagged rocks against his calloused hands. “C’mon then.” He holds his hand out to you and you don't hesitate to take it.

“Oh you're definitely gonna kill me.”

His laugh bounces around the cavern as you two shimmy towards the light at the far end of the tight alcove. Darkness soon envelops your vision. His piercings shine, acting as your guide. Like a ship to a lighthouse.

“It's a bit dark, Hobie.” Your voice echoes, concern laced in your voice. Not questioning your trust in him but concerned for what the dark could reveal to you.

“I've got you, just keep holding on to me, yeah?”

You sniff a reply, the dampness from the stone makes your nose itch from the musk.

Your feet splashes on a puddle, almost yelping at the sudden wetness. He holds on to you tighter while the rocks scratch at your back.

Hobie pauses before making way for you to pass through, making sure you don't trip on the way out.

The light almost blinds you as you finally make it to the end. Eyes adjusting, you squint at Hobie's gleeful face.

“We're here.”

Just behind Hobie is a massive ship, half of its hull is missing, mast broken, white sails fluttering aimlessly. There's something eerie about it, from how the sun's light filters through the cracks in the cavern ceiling, to the chipping golden paint that decorates the sides; barnacles have made a home on the broken bottom and crabs skittering away to its crevices. The sodden wood is inflated from the currents, wear and tear evident on its oak. It's gorgeously morbid when you think about the people who might've perished right there.

“Whose ship is this?” Your words echoes and bounces off the cave. You'd be lying if you didn't think it was the revenge for a split second, if not for its unfamiliar figure head, you'd collapse right on the spot.

“Don't know, I think It's navy but it doesn't have their flags so probably a merchant ship.” He comes closer to you, palm brushing over yours. “Look over there.” He glances behind you.

Turning around, you see several tally marks on the wall, an indication that someone survived. You glide your hands carefully over the marks, eyes curious and in disbelief.

“I counted, they were here for six months.”

You whirl around, “six? Fuck.”

“They got out though.”

You knit your brows. “How'd you know?”

“Come with me?”

“To the ship? It looks like it's about to collapse any second.”

“I tried climbing it, it's stable.” Hobie reaches for you, and again you take his hand.

“If I fall I'll blame you.”

“Thought you're good at climbin’?”

“Houses and trees, not a dilapidated ship that's more than ready to be scrapped. That thing looks older than us combined.”

“Fine, I'll climb up first and I'll help you up. Deal?”

“Christ, fine, but you owe me the rest of the chocolate.” you watch him climb a crate, effortlessly reaching the ledge of the deck, hauling himself up quicker than you thought. “Show off.” You say under your breath.

“Heard that.” Hobie peeks down, “the chocolate's all yours, now get your arse up here.” he crouches down, hands at the ready to help you up.

Copying his movements, you jump up, he immediately grabs you. Putting your foot up in a crack for leverage and with Hobie's help, you manage to get up onto the deck.

You sit next to him, stretching your wrists.

“See, not too bad, right?” The wood creaks right as he says it. “Maybe we shouldn't sit or stand on the same floor board.” He stands up but before giving you space to lessen the strain on the old wood, he helps you up once again.

“Thanks, I can stand up on my own y’know.” Yet you still take his hand.

“I know, I just don't like it when you're on the ground, you always look like you're about to bite my ankles.”

You laugh and he smiles triumphantly. The sound echoes, it reminds Hobie of the days spent together on the revenge.

“That's true, It takes every bone in my body not to.”

He smiles lopsidedly, shaking his head at you. “I have to show this to you.” He exclaims excitedly. “Just be careful of where you step.”

You pause in your movements, “shit, alright.” testing the floorboards, you slowly clamber your way towards him. “How'd you even find this place? Did you go spelunking without me?”

“Found it on our second day, thought you wouldn't like to see a broken ship like this so soon.”

You smile softly at him, heart reaching towards him and he thinks he chose right.

Hobie opens a barrel, “Look at this, found it when I actually explored the place.”

You take a peek inside, hands leaning on the barrel. “Dried pomegranates? Look at that, your murder weapon.” flicking your eyes towards him, a teasing smile on your lips.

He huffs with a grin, hands placed on his hips. “So violent. You've been hanging around me too much eh, captain?”

“Hmm, I like the sound of that, Captain Y/N. It has a nice ring to it” chuckling, your hands instinctively inch over to his. He meets you halfway on the rim of the barrel, pinky intertwined with yours. “You wanna sleep separately from now on? Since we spend too much time together and all that.”

Hobie scoffs, sucking in his teeth. “Please, you can't sleep without me now.”

It's true, you've spoiled yourself with his warmth next to you every night.

Rolling your eyes, feigning offense, you change the subject. “What's with the pomegranates?”

“They planted it, using their own supplies.”

“Cute, they left a piece of themselves on the island.”

“More than that, because of ‘em we get to eat the fruit they planted. They helped us survive.”

You shake your head, “no, you helped us survive. You did all the work, Hobie.” Taking his hand, standing toe to toe with him, you stare at his eyes for too long that you drown in his eyes. “I never got to thank you for…everything. Thank you, captain, truly.”

His breath hitches in his throat. Warmth emanating from you, eyes sparkling under the sparse light and sand clinging to your hair, he feels himself carve your name on his skin; right next to hers, right next to the scar she left.

“I rendered the great Captain Hobie Brown speechless. I think I deserve some kind of medal for that—”

Hobie cups your cheeks with both hands, leaning in, the act has you shutting up immediately.

You hear wood cracking underneath your feet. You were above deck then a second later, you're groaning on the floor, laying on his chest, facing a skeleton.

“Oh fuck!” You flinch back, Hobie holds you in place with a hand on your waist. Straddling him, you look at the decaying skeleton on the floor. “Shit—” you notice the body under you. “Oh shit!” Holding his face, you roam your eyes for any visible injuries.

“You should write poetry, you have a way with words.” He says with a wince, peeking at you through his eyelashes, he pats your thigh and you get off his aching body.

“Are you alright?” you ask frantically, checking the back of his head for blood, thankfully you find none. Panic sets in your bones, crawling on all fours, you smack his leg.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?” Hobie sits up, with his legs moving, you can finally breathe.

“I thought your legs—” the wood creaked above, eyes widening at the barrel tethering on the edge, threatening to fall.

With Hobie still shaky from the fall, you grab him quickly, dragging him away from the falling object at the last minute before it collapses on both of you.

He grips your arm, staring at the space where you two were just in a second ago. The heavy barrel now occupies it, dried pomegranates spilling out from the split wood.

“Holy fuck.” He heaves.

You drop next to him, sliding down on the rotten walls. “Holy fuck is the right word for it.” he cranes his neck to look at you. “Death by pomegranates.”

You two watch your faces morph into a smile then into a grin and then to full blown laughter.

The loud noise scares the crabs away, dust flies around and there's splintered wood laying on the floors. Despite it all, you and Hobie continue to laugh. His head laying on your chest, hand around your middle and the vibrations from his chest making you laugh harder. With your hands around his torso, fingers splayed on his back, the both of you meld together in laughter.

“Mystery solved, that's how I could die by pomegranates. Take notes, Hobie.”

He inhales before leaning away, “you saved my arse.”

“Well you saved me too, we're even.”

Hobie thumps his head on the wall just like you have. His hand searches for yours while he stares at the skeleton left next to the barrel.

You find him first before he does, immediately weaving your fingers around his, you smile despite the near death experience.

“How would you do it?” He breaks the quiet.

“Do what?” you turn your head to look at him, he's calm, face relaxed.

“Kill me.”

“Hobie—” you groan.

“Humour me, love.”

“Fine,” you sigh, “poison probably.”

“Poison? Really?” Chuckling, he clasps your hand. Your stomach somersaults at the simple act.

“Mm-hmm, I figured that I can't possibly fight you, I can't shoot you so I'd do it in a subtle way. So, poison.”

“Fuckin' hell, I'll never let you cook.” Hobie turns his head towards the skeleton again like it would suddenly stand up and attack.

“You never let me cook anyway.”

“It's because you always burn it.”

“‘It's because you always burn it’” you mock his tone, “fuck off.”

Hobie guffaws which makes you laugh too.

The laughter subsides once again, he taps your thigh, leaving his warmth embedded in you.

“He has a nice hat,” groaning, Hobie stands up, stretching his back, giving you a glimpse of his skin.

You turn away, watching the pomegranate seeds tumble down. “Who?”

“This bloke.” He bends down, taking a tricorn hat off the dirty floor. “See? There's even a bird on it. Is that silver thread?”

“Let me see.” You stretch your hand up, he lifts you up with one tug.

“There, stitched around the bird.” Hobie points at the fading design.

You can barely make out the emblem, its beak barely there and wings almost indistinguishable. The silver thread weaves around it, the only fully visible thing.

Brushing the pads of your fingers around it, you tilt your head at Hobie. “I think it is, and it's incredibly filthy. Put it back, it's been here for more than twenty years or more.”

“How would you know?” He stares at you, perplexed.

“Judging from the decay,” you gesture around the skeleton, figuring it's too rude to point at it. “and adding the fact it's exposed to the elements, it's been here a long ass time.”

Hobie’s eyes brighten, “you fuckin' bookworm.”

Sticking your tongue at him, cheeks warm, “How'd you know the survivors got out of the island then?”

He shrugs, hands still holding the musty hat. “They left a note on top of a couple of graves just behind the ship.”

“Bullshit, now you're just making shit up.”

He chuckles, the sound similar to a giggle. “‘m not lyin’, cross my heart!”

“Sure, and I'm a selkie.” Sarcasm rolls off your tongue, “I'm going outside.” You begin to walk away, finding the space stifling from all the dust and death that surrounds it.

He quickly places the hat on top of your head and you jump away, flinging it off your head then throwing it at the perpetrator.

“What?” He laughs, “It looks better on you! He clearly doesn't need it anymore!” joking, he tries to put it on you again and you push him away as a warning.

Your smile betrays your true emotion. “Don't—”

“Alright” Hobie surrenders, placing the hat back where he found it, hands next to his head, he slyly inches towards you.

“Thank you, now can we go? High tide’s coming—”

He suddenly lunges for you, picking you up as you yelp and wiggle in his arms. His arm is underneath your knees, the other is around your torso, hands placed right above your ribs. You drown in him once again. Cackling, he walks towards the hole in the wall.

“Put me down!” you bunch up his shirt in your hands, “Hobie!”

“What? I'm taking you outside, it's clearly not safe here, love!” Your squirming has him holding onto you tighter. He grins widely, carefully squeezing out of the broken hull and into the light and fresh air.

Being this close to him, you notice the small dimples on his cheeks. Restraining yourself from poking it, you can't help but stare up at him like he's the sea himself. Deep and full of secrets, secrets that you're more than willing to dive for. A terrifying force on the surface but once you're underneath the tides, you see his true self, all the love he harbors for the people, all the hate that has made him who he is.

With his waves crashing against you, he smoothens your edges with his touch, if you're not careful, he'd erode you until you're nothing but a speck of sand.

Hands atop his shoulders, Hobie stops laughing the second he sees your eyes gleam over, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving half moons on his skin. He doesn't mind, he'd let you mark him if that's what you truly want.

“You alright?” He whispers, staring down at you like the sky above, beautiful and out of reach, a cloud soft and fleeting, stars that guide him in the night. A hurricane that has sunk ships. He thinks he's one of those ships.

You wonder if he used to look at her like this too. Your hold on him loosens.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You say, voice quivering. His face goes slack, eyebrows furrowed. “Like I'm her, you know I'm not her.”

You've struck him with lightning.

You leap off his arms, wobbling on your feet. He stretches his fingers, ghosting over the shape you've left.

“What do you mean?” He asks even though he's afraid of what you're going to say.

You smile bitterly. “I remind you of her. And I'm not her, Hobie.”

“I— where is this coming from?”

Sniffing and shaking your head, “nevermind” you begin to walk towards the exit.

“Y/N,” Hobie grabs your hand, letting go immediately when you flinch like he has burned you. “Not bloody nevermind, what's wrong?”

Gwen and Hobie's arguing finally escapes its cage, their angry words thrown at each other have finally eaten through the back of your head, revealing a wound that hasn't closed. Together with the numerous times he has called her name instead of yours, you collapse under all of it.

He loves her and not you.

You avoid the swirling greys, arms crossed, head down, staring at your worn out shoes. It's better this way you think, cut it off like a lame limb before it spreads to your heart. You're letting him go, and it pains your soul to do so.

“You only like me because of the circumstances.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Hobie's not mad at you, he's angry at the conversation and the idea that you've dug up.

Does he? Does he only like you because of her? Did he only let you in at the start because of her? He only knows what he currently feels for you right now.

“You like me because of the circumstances! If we weren't stuck here together you wouldn't be.” A thunderstorm has broken through.

“After all this time together do you really think that?” He asks the question for you and for himself.

Your hands shake, tears almost spilling over. You don't let it, not in front of him. “You tolerate me.” twisting to face him, you regret the words you've thrown, but it has to be said or the relationship would've been built on lies and love for another. “You called me by her name when I fell and when you slept. I–I don't know, Hobie, I really don't know.”

There it is, the knife that was made to split skin and bleed. Instead of Hobie holding it, it's you. But he helps you bury the steel in his body, helping you twist it, helping you bleed him.

“You were there?” You nod, “I— you do remind me of her… it's uncanny sometimes.” You stifle a sob, head held up high. “And I don't fuckin' know, Y/N. All I know is I like you despite the bloody circumstances.”

Hobie closes his eyes, rubbing it with the heels of his palms. “I'll see you back at the island.” He leaves, and you just watch.

Falling to the ground, you hug your knees, letting it all crumble around you.

—

You haven't slept, bags under your eyes, headache pounding in your head, the sound of soil getting dug out behind you has become a comfort not a nuisance.

You haven't looked at the source of the sound since he started, letting his quiet curses and groans fill you with sadness and guilt. With the sun rising, and a new day coming, you sit up, palms raw from your clenched fists.

He tried to do something nice and you threw it back at him with venom.

Heading towards the shore, kneeling down, you let the salt wash over the crescent wounds. Wincing at the stinging pain, you lift your hands away from the water, lingering, watching the sun rise with heavy eyes. The humidity stifles you, choking you almost.

You clutch at your chest, imagining that your necklace is still hanging around your neck. Wishing for the comfort it brings, but the gold isn't there and the only comfort you have is now cold around you, avoiding your presence since yesterday. The closest thing you have is the pearl in your pocket, so you place your hand inside, rolling the smooth edges around your fingers, letting the cool surface ease you.

With a shaky sigh, you trudge towards the grove, grass grazing along your legs, you stand stiff at the sight.

Graves, he's digging graves.

Covered in dirt and sweat, Hobie digs a hole in the ground using a sharp stick. Lips wobbling, you let a tear fall before wiping it away.

“Hobie.” You call his name softly, voice breaking. He doesn't look up, you notice his arms shaking from fatigue. “Hobie.”

He pauses mid dig, “what?” Asking sharply, his eyes are dark, worse for wear. “Don't ask me to stop, Y/N, because I won't.”

“I was gonna ask if you needed help—want my help.”

Hobie tosses a stick at you, “this is the last one.”

Nodding, you grab the stick from the ground. Jumping down the hole, you wordlessly dig across him. The rough wood opens the scratches on your palms, dribbles of blood rolling down like the tears you've shed.

“Is this Finn's?” you ask with apprehension.

Nothing.

“Ned’s?”

Still nothing, he swallows thickly.

“Mine?”

Hobie stops, sighing, “Do you really think I can do that just because of yesterday?” Do you think he is a monster?

“No. I was trying to lift the mood, I realize now it's in poor taste.”

“I would have laughed if we weren't digging a grave.”

“Graveyard humour.” you say flatly, stabbing the ground, digging even when your palms bleed, even when your blood falls inside the grave.

Hobie exhales, eyes heavy with fatigue, dirt underneath his nails.

“You want to stay.” he says with certainty, cutting the uncomfortable silence.

“I do.”

“You won't survive here alone.”

“I know.”

“Then we'll come back here, once everything is said and done.” He looks at you, “we'll come back here.”

“Hobie—”

His eyes flicker down to your hands, the stick now red from your own hands. “You're bleedin’”

With concern he drops the makeshift shovel to cross the small distance, slowly taking your hands away from the tool. Your skin clings to it like the roots of a tree.

“It's fine.”

Hobie clutches your hands, palms above your own, trying to stop the bleeding. “No, it's not.” No, you're not fine.

“It's just from…everything. I'll clean them so they don't get infected.” you try to leave but he still holds you tight.

“I'll clean it.” Let me help, please. He screams inside his head. Just this once, let him stop the blood instead of the one bleeding you dry.

You glance at him, lines marring his face, grey eyes laid upon a bloodied field. Lips pursed into worry.

“Alright.”

—

The silence makes you squirm in your seat, watching the waves on the shore, you let him clean your hands, trust him to clean your wounds.

Hobie carefully wraps your hands with a tattered part of his shirt. He smells of the familiar herbs and soil, eyes glued to your bandaged hands, he finally speaks.

“She was killed in front of me.” His voice lacks the usual tone, grief weaved around the sentence. “When the black helion sailed next to us I knew that she was already gone.”

You look at him, it's the least you could do.

“She called for me while Mathias had his sword right next to her neck. And I cowered under the deck until she asked with a smile if she could see me.”

Listening with tears in your eyes, Hobie avoids yours.

“The second I showed myself…he cut off her head. At first I thought it was her last attempt at hurting me, seeing her dead. But after a while I… I think she wanted me to be the last thing she ever saw because she grinned like she used to when she saw me.”

He raises his head to meet your tearful eyes, “Mary Jane, that was her real name.” He chokes before inhaling deeply. “An orphan like me but she got the wrong end of the bloody stick.” He spits the words angrily. “She wanted an out, that's why she went to Mathias. We fought when she told me she was navy, but I knew…I think I just didn't want to believe it.”

Your heart breaks for him.

“I want to avenge her not just for MJ but for everyone else who got the wrong end of the bloody stick. Thirty of my men died that day, I can grieve for them everyday for the rest of my life but it wouldn't be enough. It will never be enough.”

Hobie lets your hands go softly on your lap.

“It's better to be angry than to wallow in myself. They wouldn't like that if I did so I let myself be angry for their sake.”

You reach for him, surprising himself, he welcomes your touch. Holding his face like you hold the entire world in your palms, you kiss the corner of his eyes softly, encouraging him to cry.

Laying your forehead against his, you whisper the words to him like a secret shared between two lovers.

“Let me be angry for you just this once, e–even if it's just for today, let me carry it for you. And I'll be angry for you if you ask. Just ask me, Hobie.”

“Just for a minute.” He whispers back.

“Alright, just for a minute.”

Hobie drops his head on your shoulder, hiding his face from the world, arms enclosed around your torso, you let him cry.

—

You help Hobie bury the empty graves. Pomegranates and colourful flowers on top of each one except for the three at the very back. You whisper goodbyes to each one, giving Finn's, Ned's and the crew he lost with extra attention and extra love.

You leave a bar of chocolate on top of Finn's grave, his name written on a piece of driftwood. ‘beloved friend’ you've written under his name then you realize it's not enough to describe him, so you write ‘best chef in the world’ next to it, laughing to yourself once you finish it.

“I think he'd like it” Hobie said whilst he places the folded sail on top of Ned’s empty grave. He wrote next to his name, ‘a shit lyricist but a good friend, beloved by everyone’ and you sobbed wetly at the words.

You just stare at the graves for the men you killed, imagining them rotting under it. They were once children, you thought, but you don't regret it, because you lived because of what you did, lived because of what you endured.

Just as you're leaving the thicket, giving the crew one last goodbye, you watch Hobie write her name and you leave, giving him privacy.

You wait for him patiently under the trees, right next to the raft full of supplies you've gathered. Eyes downturned, cheeks stained with tears, you hear the rustle of leaves from behind and you don't mention the missing necklace from his neck.

“Ready to go?” He asks.

No.

“Yes.”

Hobie goes around the raft to push, you copy him.

“Is that—?” He stops, hand above his eyebrows, shielding it from the sun. “Holy shit.”

You follow his line of sight, perplexed, until you see five figures waving wildly at you.

“It's them” Hobie looks at you with relief and you almost weep once again.

“It's them.”

A/N: Before you all get mad at me for Miguel, all will be revealed in the next chapter. Thank you for reading!

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wolfnprey · 2 years

Text

One Golden Glance of What Should Be

By UisceOneLove @wolfnprey for @sivan325 Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz, Maddie Buckley, Christopher Diaz, Isabel Diaz Summary: Eddie's perfectly content doing the day-to-day of his abuela's shop when a cute Omega comes in asking for help.

"Eddito, have you finished with the herbs yet?""

Almost, abuela," Eddie calls back from his place behind the counter. Each basket is laid out in front of him as he organizes the new stock.

Moving to Los Angeles with Christopher to help abuela with her shop wasn't his big plan after the divorce, but now, he can't imagine doing anything else. He's found order, some happiness, and his son's happy to help talk to customers.

And if it keeps his parents off his back a little longer then there was an extra positive to the decision.

His abuela steps out from her reading room with a warm smile as the front door chimes with a customer. "You and Christopher will be coming over for dinner, won't you?"

She says it as a question but Eddie knows it's really her telling him. "Of course," he nods, "it's another night I escape Chris' criticism of my cooking."

"We'll just have to start those lessons again," she decides, coming over to place a kiss on both his cheeks. "Can you change out the incense when you are finished here, mijo?"

"Sure thing."

He turns back to the herbs and gets the rest of them separated and marked down in the inventory, then carries them over to the left side of the store where abuela liked to keep them. It's as he's putting them in the right baskets that Eddie hears a crash from behind him and tenses, old instincts activating and the magic in his blood stirring.

A frantically hissed shit brings his defenses back down.

Eddie goes in search of the problem and finds one of the tarot displays on the ground with a very tall and nervous man on his knees scrambling to pick the decks up.

"I'm really sorry," the man says, and oh , those are some very blue eyes. It's like looking at two bright aquamarines.

"It's fine," Eddie says, clearing his head and crouching down to help. None of the deck cases are damaged, and the guilt the guy was clouded over with gave his heart a violent twinge as Eddie fixed the display.

The man shoves his hands into his pockets with his shoulders hunched up to his ears. Eddie has to stop himself from grazing the long legs attached to the man, or pay too much attention to the way he looks about ready to bulge out of his clothes. "I didn't clear it enough," the blond tries earnestly, "I'll pay for whatever's messed up."

Eddie waves him off and loosely crosses his arms so that he doesn't get the idea to touch the curls that are gelled into place on the man's head. "Don't worry about it," he replies. "Nothing's wrong, and as I tell my son, accidents happen."

The man's smile is as beautiful and radiant as the moon. "Yeah? I love kids."

He doesn't know why the man thought that was important to know, and he definitely doesn't want to think about why there's a part of him preening at the information. "Well, I love mine."

Eddie's not used to guys like this one coming into his abuela's shop. Usually they rock more of the eccentric or hipster vibes, or even still look like they should be in the seventies talking about flower power. This guy looks like he should be on the cover of a fashion magazine. Now that they're close, Eddie can smell the undertone of Omega underneath sea salt and dark chocolate.

A guy that looks like this is an Omega? No wonder Eddie's been thinking about what else he can do to get him to smile like that, or–

"Can I help you find something?" he asks when he realizes they've been staring at each other for a little too long than is appropriate.

"Oh!" Holy crap, the guy looks even hotter when he's blushing. "Yeah. My sister. She's, uh. She's just moved out here after some…really bad stuff. And I was hoping I could replenish some of her supplies. Or maybe get her something for the apartment to protect her."

Right. Focus on him as a customer. Eddie can do that."Are you looking for stones, or herbs?" he asks, already compiling a list in his head. "Or do you need a warding spell?"

The Omega grimaces. "I'm not, uh. I don't have any magic myself. But I'm willing to take anything you've got."

Eddie nods, then tilts his head for the man to follow him. He stops down one of the adjacent aisles and grabs a cloth pouch. "For stones, the ones I recommend the most are moonstone, amethyst, and opal," the Alpha tells him, grabbing a couple of each to put in the pouch. "They'll dispel negative energy and help with healing."

The taller man listens attentively, staying one step behind Eddie as he moves. "Is there anything she needs to do with them?"

"She has to activate them first," Eddie answers, "bathing them in salt for thirty minutes usually works. Moonstone should really charge under the moonlight, of course. But then she needs to give them an intention. What she hopes they'll lend their power to."

Eddie then leads him to the herbs and wraps up a bundle of sage. "Use this for cleansing the apartment. It will help her get a fresh start free of any negative energy around her."

The Omega's rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he nods. "Thank you. She's a lot more…aware of this kind of stuff. So she'll appreciate all of it better than I can."

They go up to the counter so that Eddie can ring him up and put everything into a small bag. As he hands over the change, the Alpha impulsively grabs a card and scribbles on the back of it before sliding it over.

"What's this?" the Omega inspects the card. "Eddie?"

"That's me," Eddie nods, "and my number. Just in case your sister needs anything else."

The Omega blinks, and then that smile is back. "Okay."

"Um." Eddie rubs at his bottom lip. "I could do a warding spell. If you or your sister want me to. I don't know what trouble your sister's running from but I'd be more than happy to help in whatever way I can."

The Omega ducks his head to hide the flicker of surprise. "You'd really do that?"

"Help someone who needs it?" Eddie raised a brow. "Yeah, I'd really do that."

The smile is smaller when he looks up, with something in his eyes Eddie can't identify before it's gone. "Then I think she'd really like that. I-I appreciate it."

The Omega holds out his hand. "I'm Buck, by the way."

Eddie smiles and shakes his hand. "Good to meet you, Buck. And if your sister agrees to the wards, just give me a call."

"Will do," Buck says brightly as he lets Eddie's hand go and walks out with his bag.

Eddie thinks about sea salt and dark chocolate long after Buck's gone. If abuela and Christopher notice something that evening when they sit down for dinner, neither of them say anything about it. Yet.

---

The apartment Buck's sister is moving into is a nice one. It's two stories but feels small enough to still be for one person, and a lot more modern than Eddie prefers for his own tastes.

"Eddie, this is my sister, Maddie." The woman Buck introduces to him in shorter and more petite than her brother, also carrying an underlying Omega scent beneath the smell of wildflowers and nectarines.

Eddie sees the scabbed-over Mating bite on her neck when her turtleneck shifts just enough but he says nothing, cataloging it away as he connects the dots of what she needs protection from.

Maddie's smile is the shadow to Buck's; there's a hesitation behind it that covers her fears. Eddie only knows about them because of the acrid spike to her scent. "Thank you for doing this, Eddie."

"Like I told Buck, it's no problem."

"Oh, I know," Maddie says, something amusing causing her lips to quirk up in a way that has Buck blushing and ducking his head. "Still, I appreciate it."

Having no idea what that exchange is supposed to mean, Eddie just slips the strap to his bag over his head and moves further into the apartment. "This won't take me too long. Just some set-up and then doing the incantation."

"We'll stay out of your way," she promised with a pointed look at her brother, whose eyes widened as he raised his hands.

"I'm not gonna touch anything!" Buck says defensively. "Can't blame a guy for being curious."

A chuckle escapes through Eddie's smile as he sets his bag down on Maddie's table and starts pulling his supplies out. "It's okay. There's nothing dangerous about it so long as no one touches anything before I'm finished."

"See?" he hears the younger Omega respond smugly. "I wouldn't be a problem."

"Evan," Maddie replies sternly in a voice Eddie recognizes from Sophia's Older Sibling tone.

The Alpha lets their sibling squabble fade into the background while he prepares. He sets out a small bowl and his athame, the small dagger the same one Eddie kept with him in Afghanistan. There are five colored candles for each element, some oils and herbs, and then a bag full of jet stones and some smaller candles.

As Eddie goes around placing the stones and candles within each room, he's distantly aware that the siblings are watching him. Eddie notices the stones he'd given Buck throughout the house where Maddie decided to place them. His magic sparks as he ignites the wick of each candle he sets down, murmuring prayers to the goddesses until he sets the last one by the kitchen window.

Buck and Maddie creep closer when Eddie returns to the table. With a snap of his fingers, the elemental candles flicker to life.

"That's amazing," Buck whispers in awe.

Maddie's the one who watches him closely while Eddie mixes his ingredients together in the bowl. "What will this ward do when it's ready?"

"The ward will repel any magic from being cast on you and the apartment," Eddie answers. "It will alert you as well as me whenever someone tries to cross the ward's boundaries, which is why I made sure to set the furthest stones outside before I came in."

It stings something in Eddie to see the relief in the older Omega nearly push her over. Buck, whose eyes have been locked on the presentation in front of Eddie, looks up. "Will she need to keep every stone in place?"

"No," Eddie shakes his head, " Just the ones outside, and I'll leave one stone in each room. I'll take the rest home with me."

Buck blows out a breath and nods, his shoulders dropping. "Good. That's great."

Eddie picks up the athame, then stops and looks up at Maddie. "If there is anyone specific you want to keep unable to pass the wards, I'd need something connected to them that I can place in the bowl."

He doesn't look away from her as Buck tenses by her side. Maddie's eyes take on a shine, a hand coming up to curl against her bite. Eddie's paying attention when the resolve filters in and she removes the ring from her left hand to hold out to him.

Eddie takes the ring and sets it down by the bowl. It's the final confirmation he needed to know what this escape is all about.

Eddie makes a small incision in the pad of his finger and holds it above the mixture, feeling the spread of his magic with each drop of blood he puts into it. He lets his magic weave the skin back together while using the tip of the blade to stir, and only then does he place the ring inside.

The Alpha closes his eyes, feeling the rush of adrenaline course through his body as his magic flows. He speaks the words of the incantation with a hand glowing above the bowl, knows the heat of every candle in the apartment as the ward interlaces itself in the air.

And just like that, when he utters the final word, Eddie gets the whoosh of wind as every flame is blown out. Eddie has a pleasant thrum as his magic dies down and leaves him feeling a little bit tired, so he pulls out the energy drink from his bag to sip from.

"Is that it?" Buck asks, looking around in amazement.

Eddie nods. "The ward is active. So you should be safe here, Maddie."

Maddie clears her throat, misty eyes avoiding looking at him. She waits until Eddie's standing to hug him, then pulls Buck with her to gather the stones and candles.

The Alpha cleans up his ingredients, putting them back in the bag, then dumps the contents of the bowl, save for Maddie's ring. He places that on the counter for her to deal with whenever she's ready.

"I'll need to re-strengthen the ward every other month," Eddie informs them when they come back with his things. He double-checks for himself that the rooms still have at least one stone left behind, but he isn't worried."

Now that that's over with," Buck says, a hopeful light in his eyes, "would you care to stay for a late lunch? We'll probably just be ordering something but it's the least we can do."

Eddie smiles politely. "I can't. I need to pick up my son from school and get to abuela's shop. But thanks for the offer."

Buck's disappointment is clear on his face and his scent but the Omega's smile isn't any less real. "Maybe another time?"

Maddie's not too far away from them, an odd look on her face as Buck leads Eddie to the door. "Maybe," Eddie answers.

He doesn't expect any payment for helping Maddie out. It was him doing something kind so that no one gets hurt.

If Eddie asks the head witch, Athena Grant, for an extra eye of protection when he gets to the car, well, Buck and Maddie don't need to know that LAPD is prepared as a back-up plan.

---

While he isn't expecting it, Eddie's not surprised to see Buck talking to abuela a few days later when he gets to the shop with Christopher."

My fire captain told me you talked to his wife about my sister," Buck says as soon as he lays eyes on Eddie.

"You work for Bobby?" Eddie didn't expect Buck to be a firefighter, but…now he has that image in his head and there is nothing at all that he has against it. "I didn't tell her anything detailed. Just that as the High Witch we might have some danger to look out for."

"She's actually the one who suggested I come here, you know."

Buck doesn't look upset by Eddie's decision, or by Athena's involvement. Eddie's still not entirely sure where that puts them, but he doesn't get to ask when Buck's smiling at Christopher.

The Omega kneels down and offers his hand. "You must be the awesome Christopher that Isabel's been bragging about."

Christopher, ever the polite child, takes Buck's hand with a smile as bright as the Omega's. "Abuelita talks about me and dad all the time ."

"Well, she's got every right to," Buck replies, "I'd be bragging about science fair wins all the time if I could."

Christopher beams with pride. "Dad has an important medal for being a hero," he informs the Omega, "but we're not allowed to talk about it.

"Eddie shifts uncomfortably. "There's nothing to tell," he shrugs, "just did my job."

"Come on, mijo," Abuela tells Christopher, coming around the counter, "you can help me set up for my next reading appointment."

It's not subtle and Eddie's not a fool. He knows abuela's giving them privacy.

The Alpha wanders down the aisles, aware of Buck following his lead. "Did Maddie need something else?"

"Oh, uh, no." The Omega bites his lip as he joins Eddie in the aisle of crystals and stones. "Actually, she sent me with an order to get myself something."

"Oh?" Eddie's smile twitches. "Protective big sister?"

"More like she's pushing me to do something." Buck waves a hand towards some of the stones. "Told me I should look into some garnet."

It's a strange request considering Buck's a firefighter, but he moves to the right basket and pulls out a polished pebble of garnet. "What does she think you need some courage for?"

Buck slowly comes over. "Well," he starts, taking the garnet from Eddie and looking up from under his lashes, "she thinks I need some help asking out this really cute Alpha that's been nice enough to help us out. I guess I wasn't super clear before."

A flush burns through Eddie's cheeks. "She does, huh?"

Buck nods. "Yeah."

"Is that you asking me out then?"

Buck huffs out a laugh as he smiles. "Eddie, would you be interested in going out with me?"

The Alpha in question moves past Buck to a different basket. He takes out a quarter-sized tiger's eyes and turns around, placing it in the Omega's palm.

"What's this for?" Buck asks.

"For luck." Eddie lets his fingers linger against Buck's palm, tracing his life line. "If I'm going to go out with a firefighter then I need to make sure he's going to be able to keep the date."

Eddie doesn't like to admit that the universe talks, or that there's real fate that can be intertwined in the magic. But he's willing to accept there's something to it when it gives him an Omega like Buck whose smile is as bright as the stars.

(also available to read on ao3)

#911 fic exchange #911ficexchange #911 fox #9-1-1 on fix #911 on fox #9-1-1 #911 au #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #wolfnprey #uisceonelove

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hailene · 3 years

Text

Blood Red Running Hood

𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋!𝖜𝖔𝖓𝖜𝖔𝖔, 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟑 𝐊

𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉| 𝓋𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓊

The cold foggy morning was sending chills down your spine, the coldness reaching all the way to your flesh, to your bones. It was about to rain, you could tell. But nothing could stop you from going to your granny's house, in order to take care of her like you always said you would.

The thing is granny was dead.

You found her months ago, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, sheets stained. You were horrified, not having seen anything like that before. But back then, a tiny little part of you sighed in relief. Granny was dead. The evil witch you had always been forced to take care of was now dead.

More than that, however, granny was murdered. And as you locked gazes with the murderer minutes after you found your grandmother dead, you body froze. You had heard about werewolves, you knew they existed, but the villagers had always tried their best to protect themselves from such creatures by going on patrols at night, killing anyone and anything that was out of the common. Your village was a small, simple gathering of poor houses. But it was tinted with so much sin and blood that it seemed like the village itself was cursed.

You had heard about werewolves. But you'd never believed you'd actually see one with your eyes. And more than that, you had never thought they would look so... human.

Probably, you would have never been able to tell the man sitting in front of you wasn't exactly human if it hadn't been for the steel-like glint in his eyes. And for the blood smearing at his lips.

For a moment, you were frozen, fear pumping through your veins and making it hard for you to breath. Then, you blacked out.

When you woke up, hours later, you thought you were in heaven. You were sure, absolutely sure that you were dead. But the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes were the steel-like eyes from earlier... except this time, they held some sort of warmth.

You looked around, realizing you were still at granny's, in her bed, with a new mattress, her lifeless body nowhere to be seen. The man sitting on the side of your bed smelled like rain, like mud, like the cold woods and the ashes in the chimney.

"I am Wonwoo," he said.

And you realized the smell was calming you down.

It's been a few months ever since then, a few months ever since you have started lying to everyone around you that you were taking good care of your beloved granny. When, in fact, you were obsessively visiting the small cottage just to meet Wonwoo. Again and again and again.

"What if they find out?" You remember yourself asking in fear one night, between two desperate kisses.

You remember him looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you could feel yourself melting, you remember wanting to pull him closer, closer... even though there was literally nothing between the two of you anymore, physically.

"Then I'll burn the whole damn village down," he answered before starting his hot work on you for the nth time that night.

Just to save you, you knew.

He was driving you insane.

Maybe that was why you couldn't help but come back to him. Again and again and again and...

When you enter the house, you find Wonwoo standing next to the hob, the delicious smell of food tingling your senses. You hum in delight as you close the door and take off your red hood, softly stepping towards the man. You hug him from behind and he lets the pots boil on the hob as he turns around to face you, kissing the top of your head gently. He smelled like rain, like mud, like fire and cold water. He smelled like home.

"I missed you, love," you hear him humming, filling you with warmth.

You haven't had a proper dinner in so long. You didn't have time for that, since you were always busy collecting the mail from the villagers and writing replies in the name of your beloved dead granny. She has always been seen as the wise woman, everybody was asking for advice from her. You knew everybody's secrets, you held way too much power for a little, young, unskillful witch.

But they didn't have to know that.

You occasionally told Laurette, your care-giver, that you'd stay over at your granny's. The woman was obviously glad that she wouldn't have to make sure she gives you any sort of dinner. You didn't quite stand her either. Ever since your parents passed and you and Kai, your younger brother, were given to Laurette to take care of you until you'd be able to take care of yourselves, your life had been a never-ending series of cloudy days. Kai used to be the only one able to cheer you up after a long, tiring day.

But now, Wonwoo could do much more.

A soft whimper escapes your lips as he goes down on you after the dinner, the dim light of the candles painting his skin in godly shades of gold. He was a murderer, an evil, a beast according to the villagers. That's why they didn't have to know about him, they didn't have to know about the two of you.

You had to admit that despite his humanly appearance, his werewolf features were showing sometimes, especially in bed. Sex with him was amazing. He was teasing, rough, but extremely good and even though you could have been scared of the extra-terrestrial strength of his choke-hold, you couldn't help but feel lured in towards him. You were obsessed.

"You should stop coming around for a few days, love," Wonwoo whispers after collapsing next to you.

You knew why. The full moon was coming.

He kisses you softly as you drift away to a sweet sleep. He was gone when you woke up the next morning.

When you returned home that day, you could feel that Laurette's gaze on you was different. Even if you didn't want to pay attention to it, the tiny drop of magic that was running through your veins was making it impossible for you to ignore it. It was almost like you could taste the fear in the atmosphere at home.

"What's wrong, Laurette?" You ask as she passes by your room with a heap of rags in her arms.

She looks at you for a few moments, as if she was surprised that you took notice of her behaviour. Then, she shakes her head, rushing towards the kitchen like she'd seen a ghost. You frown, unable to understand her behaviour. Did something happen while you were with Wonwoo last night? What could it be?

The answer, however, was about to be given to you in the form of Kai hastily waking you up the following night, incomprehensible cries and panicked whispers escaping his lips.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong, baby boy?" You ask while cupping his puffy cheeks, sleep still clouding your judgement.

"Fire, Y/N, they fire," your little brother cries.

You frown confused, rubbing your eyes to wake up.

"What fire, baby?" You ask as Kai starts crying harder. "What are you talking about?"

"They're coming, I've heard they want to burn the witch on a rug, Y/N!" He cries and your blood runs cold.

They can't possibly know, can they?

"Witch, baby boy? What witch?" You ask softly, trying your best to hide the panic.

"I-I think they were talking about y-..." he tries to say but you cover his mouth softly, your limbs already shaking.

"What else did you hear, baby?" You ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

"They w-went to granny's h-house," he cries softly. "One of them wa-was... killed by-"

You didn't need anything more than this.

You get up from your mattress and put some clothes on, helping Kai to dress up as well. You take your blood-red hood and put it on, kneeling next to your brother afterwards.

You could already hear loud voices outside.

"You go to the water wheel and hide there until I come to get you, okay?" You speak, holding him tightly. "If I don't come by dawn, you run and never come back here, okay?"

"B-But, Y/N–"

"Y/N loves you, baby boy, Y/N loves you so much," you whisper as tears come streaming down your face.

Kai starts sobbing too. It breaks you.

"Chin up, baby, okay?" You say, trying to get a hold of yourself. "Just have faith and trust Y/N."

Before your brother can say anything else, you jump out the window.

You run through the night, far away from the angry voices and fire torches. You run through the woods, mindlessly, only having one thought in your mind.

Wonwoo.

Was he okay? Did he kill yet another villager? You were aware of the fact that he was so far from being a saint and that it wasn't the first time he'd kill one of the people in your village, but that only made you love him more. You weren't much of a good character either.

As you reach the cottage in the woods, you realize it was vandalized. The few pieces of poor furniture were broken, pots, candles and papers thrown on the floor. The few remaining potions, herbs and spell books you had stored were all torn open, pulled out from the secret places you thought you had secured them in. It was all a mess, a bloody, ruthless mess and the deep animal scratches on the wall weren't making it any better.

No sign of Wonwoo.

As you look around more carefully, your blood runs cold. You shouldn't have come here.

It was a trap.

"The little witch is here," the man in front of you shouts and you here footsteps coming from the outside.

Before you can turn around and run away, more men enter the cottage, blocking your way, and panic rises from the pit of your stomach, your vision getting blurry. Seconds later, you feel something hard hitting your head from behind, letting you fall in a dark abyss.

Before you open your eyes, you feel warmth, heat. You feel fire. And as you open them, you realize why. Your body was tied to a wooden rug, surrounded by a circle of flames. It was hot, almost unbearably.

"The witch woke up! It's time to burn her back to hell!" You hear someone screaming.

Your eyes meet Laurette's figure and you feel your whole body filling with so much rage that you swore the flames around you started burning brighter. And then you see it, the whole village gathered around you in hateful circles, looking at you as if you killed their families. Maybe you did. But not intentionally.

Rocks and sticks were being thrown at you, curses and words spit in your direction, but nothing that your mind and body could cope with. Your time has arrived, you were getting the fate that you deserved, so now, you could only hope that your brother and your lover were going to be okay.

You are a witch after all. You are evil. And you have been too stupid, too careless to keep on living. You deserve to die. You deserve to be burnt on a rug.

As one of the villagers approaches you with a lit torch, you hear a freezing growl, not that far from where you were. Moments later, the fire surrounding you starts reflecting in different places. You think it's your mind going insane, you think it's your vision getting damaged by fear, by defeat, by the unnerving warmth the flames were attacking you with. But as you hear the growl getting louder and the panicked screams of the villagers running around, you realize something went wrong in their plan.

You can't help but laugh as the villager who was coming towards you starts running for his life, screaming as the grey wolf with fire in his eyes starts chasing him. You couldn't be afraid of the wolves. You couldn't be afraid of Wonwoo.

People slowly disappear, corpses taking their place, the fire slowly starting to take over the whole town. You were surrounded by a realm of flames and you felt like you were on fire yourself, but you were laughing like a maniac, unable to control yourself.

Your curses worked. This God-forsaken village was now burning to fucking ashes.

You feel something or someone untying your wrists and ankles from the wooden rug and as you turn to look next to you, you meet the steel-like gaze of the man you were so in love with. He picks you up from the torture place and rushes out of the fire, running and running until you can actually feel the cold night wind whipping your bare skin.

Wonwoo turns around to look once again at the burning village, the fire contrasting with the dark night in such a sinfully-pleasing way. You adored that.

"It's finally gone," he whispers, your mouth watering at his hoarse voice.

I'll burn the whole damn village down, you remember.

You pull him by his torn shirt and he looks at you, warmth shining in his eyes brighter than that goddamn fire. You kiss him hungrily, tasting the smoke, the blood and the mud on his lips. It was all sweeter than honey, more addicting than any sort of herb you've seen before. This was Wonwoo, the forbidden taste you have always, always been longing for. Now you had it. And in the devil's name, you regretted absolutely nothing.

"The water wheel," you choke out as you pull away, your lips swollen, tinted with blood. "We have to find Kai at the water wheel."

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ellitx · 3 years

Text

Twig | Albedo x Reader

the final act of TWMA part 1 part 2

can be stand-alone

disclaimer: this is written before v1.2 so my interpretation of albedo’s story and lore is not accurate. these are just my assumptions and understanding that i based on each characters’ voicelines about him

word count: 3.4k

Something felt odd. What in the world happened…?

The male awoke from an unfamiliar scent that drifted through his nose. Likewise, he has woken up from a restless sleep due to the rough waves, to glimpse at the glowing and radiant sun peaking above the horizon out of the window. It extended its vivid light across the deep blue sky.

Its dazzling and inviting rays flowed through the window providing warmth to his body. Slowly the fatigue of the endless dreams was seeped out of him as the warm light trickled into replacing his unrest— it eased his body.

His mind meandered aimlessly into nothingness, continuously staring at the beige wall painted around the room.

He is aware when he is forgetting when there is something close yet hidden, yet he cannot at that moment fathom what it could be. It’s as if he was following a bread crumb trail and it ends, so he stopped.

It gives him ideas as to what is missing from his brain because if one always got stopped when traveling, you would know that there are blocks in your way preventing you from continuing any further— even if he has no clue to as what they are.

A peal of melodic laughter that is mirthful and playful then reached his ears, stopping him from his dreaming. Albedo turned his head to the source of the voice and saw a girl— that was around his age— chuckling as she held a tray in her hands.

“You’re finally awake.” She brought down the platter on the table next to him and poured a cup of tea. His visage frowned and tightly gripped the blanket that was tucked to him.

Why did he felt that she was mocking him? He doesn’t know why but for some reason it did irk him. He forgot about his memories. He doesn’t have the slightest clue as to where he was and why he was here.

“Here.” She gave him the cup and patiently waited for him to take it. So this is where the foreign scent was coming from. He thought to himself.

The smell was fragrant but had a tinge of spiciness in it. It made his nose crinkled but accepted it nonetheless— quite hesitant, as the girl observed. Taking a small sip of the tea, it surprised him that it tasted sweet. It was quite unexpected because of the tangy fragrance it gave off.

“You look so lost.”

The laugh came from her like a newly sprung leak— sheepish at first, stopping and starting. She wasn’t done yet though, he could tell from the way she turned her head and half-bit her lip. From deep inside her chest came a great shaking motion and her muscle face grew tight.

His eyebrows arched as he put down the cup on the tray, waiting. In moments this female’s laugh was more like a burst water main arching into the brilliant summer sky, soaking everyone around her with unrestrained gales that deliberated her to nonstop giggles and picked face picture of glee.

Albedo wanted to stay straight-faced and walk out the room— she was, after all, laughing “at him”, not “with him”. But before he could stop himself, his poker mouth twitched upwards, and was smiling despite himself.

Nevertheless, he didn’t hate it.

—

On the next day, she was already bombarding him with questions.

“Hey, hey, what was that thing you just did? That was my sister’s research she’s been working hard for and you’ve already solved it?!” [Eye color] optics sparkled in awe and admiration as [Name] gazed at him from her side.

He peered into her eyes and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, continuing to read the texts of the book she gave him. “It was a minor mistake she had done. I’ve read some pieces of information about that topic and was not expecting I would stumble upon it.”

She puckered her lips and pouted as she snatched the codex from his hands. His answer was so vague! It didn’t really satisfy her curiosity about this outlander. “Hey!”

The female raised her arms, preventing him from reaching it. “I won’t give this back to you until you tell me the whole story!” Albedo’s brows folded in confusion and struggled to grab it. “That is the whole story.”

Her cheeks puffed and watched him yanked the book from her. It was disappointing, to say the least how he easily took it.

Sighing countless times already made him question himself why this girl still insists on staying by his side. It’s not like he didn’t like it nor does he like it, it just raised him so many questions about what happened yesterday.

Why would the Knights took him in considering how [Name] just effortlessly helped him out of nowhere. Not to mention how he barely knows a single thing about Mondstadt. It made him indignant how he can’t remember even the slightest thing.

He doesn’t blame anyone for it. It’s no one’s fault that he lost his memories.

Just thinking about this bizarre occurrence that just magically appeared out of nowhere made his head ached. Though the tug on his arm caught his attention and looked at the young teen in puzzlement as they started to march off to archon knows where.

“Maybe I should tell Grandmaster Varka about this…” She softly muttered to herself. He caught her words perfectly and so further press a question to pique his interest. “Tell about what?”

Both of them slowed down and paused in their tracks, stopping midway near the fountain area. [Name] chuckled and winked at him playfully.

“You’ll see.”

Albedo hummed and looked fixedly on the back of her head as they continued to walk silently.

There was a delicious moment where his face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn’t turn fast enough to take in the information from his wide eyes. It made [Name] stifle a laugh at the expression he was currently showing to all the members of Ordo Favonius.

Every muscle of the male’s body just froze before he looked away from them to the girl who stood beside him. A grin crept up onto her face, it soon stretched out from one side to the other showing every single tooth.

Surprise isn’t an emotion he’d ever taken well. He could tell himself he was at loss for words. He guessed he found himself dumb, in a sense that made his lexeme stopped flowing. Stopped because she has shown him a new direction he never anticipated for a moment.

Every member knows she had saved him— saved him from what though? That he did not know, he never asked her about it nor did she even tell him what happened to him. He just let it be.

Receiving the news that he’ll be a member of the Knights, to have the position as the Chief Alchemist, really made him bewildered and surprised.

“Isn’t this happening too fast?” He questioned whilst quirking a brow.

“Hm? What do you mean?” [Name] tipped her head as her eyes stared at his own turquoise ones.

“Why is everyone easily agreeing to it? I’ve only been here for a day and just assisted your sister in translating. I appreciate the thought that the Grandmaster here is giving me the position of Chief Alchemist but I can't help but question why.”

She glanced at him, her mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. Her eyes are fixed as if she’s looking at something a yard behind his head. He called her name to garner her attention.

She blinks, refocused. “Albedo, it’s actually been five days. Lisa talked to everyone about how genius you are.”

Now it was his turn to owlishly blink. Five days? Does time really move that fast?

Well, he did hear the saying that time flies fast when you’re having fun. He never noticed about it and now that the idea battered him, it continued to linger inside his head.

What happened yesterday, what happened today, everything still feels the same. Even if the fragment of memories within him seemed to etiolate. His hands clawed his chest, feeling the unusual warmth from it and throughout his body.

Everything has been important to him and will be important to him.

He knows that these distant memories seem so far and vague but are significant to him.

He doesn’t understand the reason why, but he shouldn’t forget.

At least that’s how he thinks things should be.

—

The sound of the ticking grandfather clock echoed throughout the silent room. It sounded so monotonous and lifeless inside. The tall and antiquated object stood there as the gateway for old-man time, the golden pendulum making its steady way back and forth.

The silence was so eerie, though none minded at all as two teenagers were fast asleep, still remaining inside their dreams.

An aroma Albedo has gotten used to woke him up. It’s the smell of the herbs and various flowers that have mixed together giving off a sweet and minty scent. He opened his eyes and stayed like that for a few minutes.

The alchemist tiredly glanced down to see the papers are now messed and scattered all over the table. Heaving a sigh as he raked his fingers through his hair, his aqua optics went on to the female’s sleeping body that rested on his lab’s bed.

She still hasn't woken up.

He stood up from his seat and quietly approached her unconscious form to check on her condition. [Name]’s features were much softer in sleep, the lines that usually creased her brow replaced by youthful appearance giving off a child-like look.

She looked peaceful, he thought to himself.

He pulled up the blanket over her shoulders and turned around to continue making remedies for her once she’s awake.

The Knights of Favonius were worried sick about her, especially her sister, Lisa. They were hoping and praying to the Seven she’ll wake up from her coma. They all miss her presence, days of not seeing her wandering around also worried the townsfolk of Mond.

She has been cooped up inside his room while Sucrose and Noelle assisted him in taking care of her.

The morning dusk is about to arrive and Albedo has to continue doing his research nonstop. He does so wished to see her [eye color] orbs finally open after the incident. It hurt him to know [Name] has been like this that he did not even realize until the Acting Grandmaster and her sister told him about it.

He stared at the small plant that was placed on the windowsill. Its leaves started to fall off from its branches as it slowly started to wilt in the darkness. He grabbed the small twig and observed the faintest of light it gives off.

Would it hurt to say that it reminded him of her?

[Name] is someone that has to be taken care of carefully. After all, when she saw what he had written about her condition, she didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to say that her “friend” was just a fragment of her imagination without affecting her mental state.

He hovered his hand over the small branch, watching it bloom before his eyes with ease. He placed it back in the vase and returned to the table. If only he could easily return her back just like how he did with the plant.

Return her from his arms again instead of that bard.

He let out a bitter laugh at that thought. This was his fault. Why would she come back running to him if he did not even once give her his time? When they’ve finally met again for so long, she was avoiding his eyes.

It hurt him, he won’t lie about that. Her welcome to him was just a simple nod and that’s it. No hugs, no welcomes, not even a small smile was given to him.

If he did stop his research and at least spend time with her, will everything change?

Albedo shook his head as the answer to himself. Even if it is, why would he still continue hoping and thinking about these things? Sometimes his formulation of the rationale of real-life situations irked him.

This isn’t alchemy, genius.

His self-feud stopped when he saw her fingers moved the slightest from his peripheral vision. His heart fluttered and gave him a bit of hope if the archons had finally heard their wishes.

When her eyelids flickered open, the sight was not what he was expecting.

A lone tear trickled down her cheek. Her lips quivered and continued to look at the distance. Out of complete silence, her soft cries arose. He’d never seen [Name] sat like that, so deflated. Her loose shoulders shook, her hands hanging low, making no attempt to conceal or even wipe her own tears.

All of these emotions coming to him at once hurt him.

His head throbbed and let the feeling of guilt crush him.

—

The giggle rolled around the room like a child’s spinning top, vibrant and heartwarming as it moved around the people in its chaotic ways. It came in its fits and bursts— loud to soft to nothing at all and back to loud again.

It was as if there was an invisible feather at [Name]’s nape brushing softly; she squirmed and raised her shoulders to block Barbara from tickling her neck. The laughter built up inside her like so much water behind a dam, making her shoulders and her belly hurt.

She cried when Klee jumped onto her body and joined in with the deaconess. Their carefree and playful tittering reached Albedo’s ears when he entered the room. Their eyes darted towards him as their laughs died down.

The Spark Knight ran towards him and hugged his legs, overjoyed in seeing the alchemist here. He knelt down to her height and patted her head as a smile slowly crept up to his face.

[Name]’s laugh caught his attention again, though he did not dare to look at the two females. As much as he tried to focus on listening to Klee’s words, he cannot help but listen to the former’s gentle hilarity.

For some reason, it made his chest wrenched every time he listens to it. He wondered why that is when it’s something he remembers all the time.

He recalled the day he got his Vision. It appeared out of thin air on his desk and she was the first one to point it out. It surprised [Name] why he had gotten Geo instead of Dendro. She watched him fiddle the trinket in his hands as he continued to analyze it.

He didn’t really mind whichever Vision he got. As long as he can continue doing his research then it’s fine with him.

He didn’t know why he found himself laughing so hard, but all of a sudden, he couldn’t stop. His breath came in quick gasps between his unstoppable tittering. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

She was confused about why he was laughing all of a sudden worrying her. He waved his hand dismissively and pointed out the expression that was currently painted on her face. Her face reddened and slapped his back jokingly.

After their short playful bickering, the Chief Alchemist plucked a small branch from a plant and hand it over to her.

“Visions are gifts given to us by the Gods. Think of it like this sprig, there are many possibilities which among the elements they’ll receive yet no one knows what they’ll end up with until they’ve received it.”

She furrowed her brows as her brain cogs continue to process what he meant. It finally dawned on her what he meant and hummed. “But not everyone can receive Visions, though.” She remarked.

“Exactly. They may not bear fruits or maybe yet, one day it’ll come to them.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what is it?”

[Name] sighed and rested her chin on her palm. “Not everyone is blessed by the Seven.” The male was still and quiet.

“Well, I’m no god. I may not know how they give out Visions but it sure is something remarkable, isn’t it?” Her eyes lightened up and nodded vigorously.

“Right?! Wouldn’t it be better if they just give it to everyone?” Albedo laughed and admired her own exclamation.

“Perhaps.”

It surprised the female teen that he just suddenly grabbed her hand unnoticed. He observed how small her hands are compared to his. He placed the twig on her palm and with a simple motion of his wrist, the branches started to grow as small leaves then sprouted from it.

It occurred to her just how amazing Albedo is. She raised the small branch in the air and examine the faintest glow of the leaves it emitted. She gasped and stared with wide eyes as isotoma flowers started to bloom from the ends.

“W-was that suppose to happen?” She turned her head to him and pushed her arms forward to show the herb to him.

He bobbed his head and took out a pot filled with soil. He used his elemental skill on it and a cecilia shaped flower appeared. Instead of the usual vibrant white, it almost looked too rigid and rocky.

[Name] poked it and it really was sturdy. He asked her if she can use her own elemental skill, to which she responded with a yes. She twirled her hand and he can feel the air starting to get cold.

Small snowflakes started to form and dropped down on the pot. Once the snow made contact with the rocky flower, it formed into a crystal and bloomed into a refreshing and spirited cecilia.

It felt like a real flower instead of the stony one they just saw. The alchemist plucked it and carefully tucked it to her ear, adoring how well it donned her appearance and perfectly captured her delicacy.

Cecilias really does suit her.

That day, the day he only showed it to her. It’s the memoir he cherished the most. It’s the only special memory he couldn’t forget.

He understood why. He keeps thinking of her.

All these mnemonics with [Name] are important to him and are everything to him.

And on that day, he believed she wouldn’t leave.

—

A smell of a nostalgic sweet breeze wafted in him. The winds kissed his skin making him wish to go back to sleep, yet the sound of familiar laughter was what made him want to open his eyes.

He recognized those sweet mirths. It’s so close to him that he can feel the figure’s shakiness. The tree’s shadow helped him not to be blinded by the rays of the sun and the gales that caressed his skin were so calming, but his focus was purely glued to a smile.

Her smile.

He still waited for the day when he can show the small beauties of life to someone, but there are no fools like him in this vast world. Perhaps they exist, yet they must be distant, enjoying the same sky with other eyes yet the same thought.

The whistling of the birds that awaken their sleep in the trees, letting his perception be painted with white, yellow, and blue. It battered him that he was currently laying on her lap.

So shall it stay put, a smile eternally stained upon her lips. Her joy, her love, her laughter, her cheer. All will reach the ears of those who have forgotten the warmth of such harmonies.

Emotions came to his mind like the waves meeting the land. They come to him, soaking his entire being and helped him to understand his entire self better. He felt wet hot tears filled up his eyes.

But this was no tears of grief.

It was tears of joy that he has finally heard her laugh once again. Much closer than before. The distance with them has now shortened. Is this the archons saying they’ll give him another chance?

If it is, he’s very thankful to the Celestia and to the Seven. He was so happy that all he can do is cry and let the tears continuously fall down his cheeks. The tears stained his face but he didn’t care if it did.

Albedo was just so ecstatic he finally got to reunite with her. He can finally hold her in his arms and apologize for the mistake he has done to her. He missed her so much that he can’t bear the pain anymore of how distant they are.

And so he promised himself he won’t ever forget her.

this oneshot is based on this song

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morimakesfanart · 3 years

Text

Sindria's Prophet #16

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15]

[AO3]

~POV Sinbad~ Mori wasn't just a Prophet, she had immense knowledge of her own that was going to make Sindria untouchable. Sinbad was going to achieve his dream much sooner than he had ever imagined. Mori was special; intelligent, clever, capable, and she could read the waves of Fate. Was there any other woman as attractive? The unknown craving that had plagued him for the past week was placated. Delicious wine, beautiful women, delicious food -none of his normal pleasures had fulfilled whatever that feeling was, but for some reason this moment with the his Beautiful Prophet was. "And now you're *my* kind and generous King Sinbad, ... Right?" Mori's bashful confidence was always endearing, but hearing her call him 'my King' in person made something snap in him. They were in a corner and Mori is small; he could easily block view of her in case any of the magicians turned around. He wouldn't even have to lean that far to get a taste of her. "DO EITHER OF YOU Have an ounce of self awareness??” Ja'far popped the bubble that had formed around the two.

King Sinbad froze. Everyone in the room was watching them. Sinbad stood up straight. He shouldn't exactly continue his plans with an audience. He removed his hand from the window and crossed his arms. Yam was practically shaking the magician next to her. "I wasn't the only one to see it this time!” An older magician with a beard laughed and said something like 'to be young.' Another said something a long the lines of "So it's like that then." Ja'far was still grumbling about his King's behavior -he should know better by now, he promised he wouldn't, etc. but 1. Sinbad didn't do anything wrong, and 2. he said he knew what he was doing -he knew how to handle flirting with Mori; he never said anything about not flirting with her. "And you, Lady Prophet," Ja'far changed targets. 'Oh?' Sinbad didn't expect Mori to be reprimanded for his flirting -although, she did flirt back. Ja'far continued, "You said that you knew about Sin's habits so wouldn't fall for him or-" "AAAAAH" Yamuraiha yelled over the other General as she crossed the room as fast as she could, and clapped a hand over his mouth. She turned to the King and Prophet with wide eyes and a forced smile. "Your Majesty! Mori! Would you like to see the spell again with our new changes?!" She didn't let go of Ja'far. The group of magicians started supporting her suggestion with "Let us show you," "I'm sure we've got it this time," and reciting the changes to the formula. They were clearly trying to stop Ja'far from discouraging Mori. Sinbad had no idea why they suddenly decided to become his wingmen, but it was convenient for him since he planed to do more than flirt with her later. Mori walked up to the Generals, although she only addressed Yamuriaha. "Yes, please! Even if it's not perfect I'd like to see your progress!" She spoke with the same forced enthusiasm as Yam. Sinbad only got a glimpse before Mori's back was to him, but her face was definitely a brighter red than it had been a moment ago. She was getting better at flirting with him, but she couldn't hold her composure for long. The King laughed as the head magician practically body checked Ja'far out of her way and left him out of the group before they preformed the newly revised spell. This time it produced a mostly clear stone. It wasn't a high quality diamond, but they had done it. They would have to be careful with this though since it could lower the market value of whatever they make. As they figured out the specifics for every substance they needed, Sindria could become fully self sufficient -they would still deal in trade so as to not completely leave the rest of the world behind. It was amazing. His magicians were amazing for being able to figure this out in such a short time, and his Prophet was just as -if not even more- amazing for knowing all of this and being able to explain it to them. When the excitement around the magic spell died down they finally showed him the microscope. It was a prototype so they had to be gentle with it. Two pieces of glass with water squished between them were slid under and when Sinbad looked through the lenses he saw the strange small creatures that Mori had written about. Seeing them forced him to accept that what Mori wrote about 'germs' had to be true too -and those were even smaller than these things. Looking at those things squirming around and knowing they were everywhere made his skin crawl. The King stopped looking through the device. "They really are real." "Yup." Mori responded plainly. "And now that you all know and have proof. There's going to have to be a lot of changes. The way illnesses are handled is obvious, but there's going to have to be a lot more changes to how food and housing and things are handle to better maintain sanitary environments. I know a bunch of sanitation procedures so I can help there too." Ja'far was rubbing his temples. "This is going to be a logistical nightmare. Do you realize that we are going to have to fix all those things and get all Sindrians to understand without having it affect our production or

trade??" "It's not like we're doing this alone." Mori tried to comfort him. "We'll figure something out." The conversation moved to this new problem. His Beautiful Prophet really was something else. She had solutions to problems they didn't even know they had. Mori had a habit of using her hands whenever she talked -even more when she was excited. She was cute and deserved to know, but she was in the middle of helping his people so he would hold his tongue and just watch her. If Sinbad was honest, he had stopped listening to the conversation a while ago and was just looking for an opportunity to finally ask Mori -and Yam of course- if they would join him for dinner so he could get all of his Generals more aquatinted with her. Someone mentioned a specific scroll in one of the libraries. Before the whole group could drag Mori out of the room, King Sinbad raised a hand and got everyone's attention. "I know there's a lot to do, but I have some things to discuss with my Beautiful Prophet as well." Mori looked back at him. "What is it?” It seemed that nickname wasn't as affective as before -hopefully it was just the timing. "Is it something we can talk about here?” "I was thinking we could talk over dinner," Sinbad paused to see how she would respond to the implications. Mori's eyes widened and her shoulders tensed, and best of all that blush came back. "With all of my Generals, of course." Mori blushed harder realizing he was messing with her. Yam looked disappointed at first -his Generals cared way to much about him finding a wife- but then she looked content with being a part of the plan. "You might have met them, and know them from reading Fate but they still don't know you yet." He finished. Yam spoke first. "This is a great idea. Pisti was just telling me that she wanted to get to know Mori." Mori regained her composer. "I'd like to get to know everyone personally too, so I'm find with this." It was a roundabout way of saying 'yes.' Her blush was gone but she was still embarrassed. With that settled, Ja'far let Yam and Mori know when dinner would be ready. It was a little earlier than he normally ate but this would give them more time to mingle before they'd be completely out of sunlight. "Well then," the King turned to his Prophet, "since we have some time beforehand-" "OH no you don't!" Ja'far cut in. "You've already had a long enough break *and* you plan on ending early today? The least you can do is work your butt off until then." --- ~POV Mori~ The King was pushed out of the room by his right hand man. I had a mix of relief and longing watching him go. "You'll see his Majesty again soon." Yam had a sweet smile on her face, but I knew better than to trust it. All eyes were on me and they were no longer the eyes of academics; they were hungry for gossip. I was not ready to explain why shipping us was a bad idea. "So about that scroll you mentioned earlier..." I completely shifted conversation back to the eventual rebuilding effort and luckily one of them obliged me.

I was lead to one of the libraries and handed a few scrolls on the construction used in the country. I had read a little on ancient construction methods out of interest and some on modern methods since my uncle worked in the industry. I had a little bit of experience with construction when I worked at a community theater, but it wouldn't be anything the people here wouldn't know. That paired with these documents showing how magic was used in the process made what little I did know completely useless. 'Can't know everything I guess.' I turned my head up towards the ceiling. I wasn't sure how much time I had left and I decided to use it soaking up the ambience of the library. The smell of paper, the maze-esc layouts, the quiet feeling; it's like a gentle space separate from the rest of the world. The libraries of the Black Libra Tower also had huge windows to let in a ton of natural lighting. I was really going to enjoy working in this place. --- Yam and I ended up lost in conversation, so someone ended up being sent to bring us to the dinner. When we finally arrived and opened the doors to the dining hall my nose was filled with the smell of herbs and delicious food. This was my first meal that wasn't paired with bitter medicine. I might have been procrastinating subconsciously to avoid the medicine I was no longer taking. Everyone was already there chatting. The long table was covered with food, but I couldn't make out any of it from the door. King Sinbad was sitting at the head of the table at the other end of the room with a goblet in his hand. Yamuraiha started in ahead of me and called into the room. "I'm sorry we're so late! We were talking about magical proofs and," she rambled in her explanation. I heard a few comments of congrats for getting better and said "Thanks" reflexively more than consciously. As I got closer, I ignored the Generals at the table to look at the spread. There were a few different types of fish, meat of some kind, a bunch of vegetables, and bread. It brought tears to my eyes; It was so beautiful. The Imuchukk laughed at my obvious interest in the food. "What are you waiting for? There plenty for everyone." He was sitting closest to the door. I didn't look away from the food when I answered. "I'm small with a small stomach so I'm going to need to pace myself to be able to eat a little of everything. If I save the best for last like I normally do then I might not even get to eat it." That garnered laughs and comments. I ignored them; I was too busy weighing my options. As the guest of honor I was placed at the opposite end of the table from King Sinbad. Thank goodness, because I didn't think I could handle being super close to him all evening. Even with the direct line of sight, I had distance to protect me. Yam sat on the other side of Hina from me. Pisti was on my other side. Sharrkan was across from Yam. Spartos was between Yam and Ja'far. Drakon was across from Ja'far. And Masrur was between Drakon and Sharrkan.

I picked up my plate to get food. "Alright. I've decided to just grab my favorites. If I have room later then so be it!" I was used to being watched while I eat so their stares didn't bother me. I covered my plate in all of the types of fish and some vegetables. "I take it you like fish?" Sinbad asked while I was taking some of the fish that was on his end of the table. "It's my favorite!" I answered excitedly. I could tell as I placed the grilled fish on my plate that it was going to be heavenly. It was already flaking and letting the smell reach me faster. I couldn't wait to get back to my seat and took a bite of the fish. It melted in my mouth. I let out a squeak of approval as I grabbed another bite. After a moment Sinbad asked me another question. "What do you think of greasy foods?" It felt pointed. "I'll eat it if it's the only option, but I'm not a fan." The Generals made some comments that amounted to, "They have the same taste." I was too busy enjoying my food to think about what they were saying. Pisti asked me her own pointed question as I sat down. "Do you like alcohol?" They were comparing me to Sinbad. I suddenly remembered the Official Character Encyclopedia. According to it, Sinbad's favorite food was fish, his least favorite was greasy, and his favorite snacks were the types that paired well with alcohol. "I'm not a big drinker, but it's not like I dislike alcohol. I'm just allergic to sulfites." "Huh?" The group asked in unison. Time to explain one of my allergies again. "Sulfites are a very useful preservative so it was also added to a lot of foods back home including alcohol. All grape wines produce sulfites naturally. When I ingest about 2 shots of a drink that contains sulfites I will struggle to breathe for about an hour." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the goblet of wine I didn't realize was in front of me was grabbed by Hinahoho. They all looked panicked at each other like they had just dodged a bullet. In an attempt to relieve the tension, Sinbad asked Yam to catch everyone up on the meeting from earlier. Yam started ranting about the progress we had made with the alchemy magic. While they focused on reclaiming the mood, I focused on the delicious food. I tried a root vegetable on my plate. It was a little earthy with a subtle sweetness. The seasoning added to the sweet, but also had a little spice similar to cracked pepper. It had been streamed so it wasn't crunchy. I was asked to repeated what I told Sin and Ja'far earlier about the tech of home, Their questions had me explain more about my world and many of the things I had done: volunteer work to get scholarships, marketing for some networking organizations and some other companies, an assistant and teacher in out of school programs for 6 years while also working at a theater to pay for my own education. I only mentioned some of the places I had traveled to. I didn't even get to the things I did as hobbies or in working toward my dream of being a full time writer&artist. "I'm surprised by how much you say you've done." Drakon commented. I had heard similar before when talking about my past. "Is it really that shocking? Considering my age, I think it makes sense for me to have done a bit." It's more shocking that I was doing all that while getting so sick from my chronic illnesses that I would be fully bedridden and need a machine to breathe at least once a year until I turned 15. But I had also ate up inspiration porn as a child as a motivation to not let my body hold me back if I could. "Aren't we around the same age?" Yam asked me in response. I laughed. "Do I look 23 to you?" I've been mistaken for much younger than I actually was for as long as I could remember. It 1st became a problem when I turned 18 and got told I was clearly 12 with a fake ID when trying to buy an M rate game (Devil May Cry btw). "You're not?” ”Nope.” I rested my elbows on the table, interlocked my fingers, and I placed my chin on top with a smile, "But I'm curious how old you all think I am now." At 25 I was mistaken for a 14

year old. At least, a few months back someone thought I was legal (they guessed 19). Most realized I had to be older the more they talked to me, but their impressions never fully dissipated. As frustrating as it was, I found amusement in times like this by turning my age into a guessing game. Sharkkan had the face of someone fearing they had hit on someone too young. "You are at least 20, right?” They all suddenly looked worried. "I'm definitely older than 20." I answered. Pisti laughed. She was also short with a baby face; she knew my struggle. "Maybe she's older than Ja'far!” Of course she would make the closest guess. "There's no way she's older than me." Ja'far scoffed. "I am older than 25 though.” I could have teased him but I held my tongue since he already seemed annoyed with me. "How old are you then?” Hina asked. "I'm 29.” I smiled at everyone's surprise. I might only have surface levels similarities to Sinbad, but when you're a simp for a fictional character does that really matter? "I was born on April 7th so I should only be 5 days younger than King Sinbad since he was born on the 2nd. However, I don't know if there's a time dilation between my world and this one. The day we met was Oct 3rd for me back home. It wasn't the same date here, was it?" Sinbad is 29, Ja'far is 25, and Masrur is 20 during the Balbadd arc; their 2nd set of ages are 30, 26, and 21 respectfully. Ja'far's birthday is Aug 30th and Masrur's is Dec 27. Those 2nd ages listed can't be for right after the 6 month time skip because no matter how you calculate it the shortest distance between those 3 birthdays is 8 months. I was really interested in how the current arbiter of this world was going to figure this out. "It was Oct 3rd here too." "Oh. Well, that's convenient," was what I said while my thoughts were cursing the arbiter. 'That lazy son of a bitch synced the worlds so they wouldn't have to deal with a time dilation. I can feel it. Hold on... I arrived on Oct 3rd; the coup was 4 days later on the 7th. 6 months later would mean Sinbad arrives back in Sindria on my birthday. Did some 'real me' somewhere plan a b-day present for myself in some self-indulgent fanfiction??' ((Yes. Yes, I did UwU & I plan on making Mori panic then too.)) King Sinbad had that smile on his face that told me he was ready to flirt. "I didn't realize we were so close in age." No colors got in my way when he talked. That was good. I was desensitized again, and wouldn't have to deal with unnecessary distractions. I couldn't tease Ja'far, but I could tease his Majesty. "I know, right? It's amazing what the difference of 5 days can do for one's complexion." Sinbad froze and his expression went blank. Something that was probably wine sprayed across the table as Sharkkan had a spit take before erupting into laughter with Hinahoho and Pisti. "Oh my" Yam murmured with a hand over her mouth. Drakon , Spartos, and Ja'far stared at me in disbelief. Sinbad still wasn't responding... Maybe teasing him about his age was a bad idea. So far, unless it was something important I flirted with Sinbad since that was the best way to get on his good side; hearing something like this from me must have hurt a bit extra. I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I forgot just how sensitive he was about his age. I ended up flailing my hands from nerves, and to get his attention. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that when I know how self conscious you are." He flinched. "I don't know if this will make you feel any better, but you won't look any older than you do now 5 years from now..." "I uh.. Is that so?" Sinbad asked as he started to regain himself. "It is. You'll be just as-” "If you're willing to talk about the future, does that mean you are finally ready to explain about those calamities you mentioned in Balbadd?" Ja'far cut in with a fierce look. He had been waiting for any mention of the future to bring this up. The King spoke with a gentle but stern tone. "I don't know if this is the time for that conversation. This is Mori's first meal with

everyone after all." "I'm fine. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. As long as everyone else is willing to talk seriously for a few mins, I don't see the problem." I had been avoiding this conversation for long enough. There were things I still planned to keep secret, but I couldn't avoid having this conversation forever. And besides, I could feel in the waves that Ja'far wasn't going to let this night end unless I explained some of it. ((I have the next 3 chapters written but it's going to take me a bit to draw all of illustrations & comics. Also, good luck to all the students reading this. I know classes are starting up again. Be safe out there.))

#magi prophet fanfic #sinbad x oc #magi sinbad x oc #king sinbad #sinbad magi #magi fanfic #magi sinbad #yamuraiha

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batgurl1989 · 3 years

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We Meet Again Chapter 2

Summary: Geralt and Younin share a meal and try to figure out where they stand with each other.

Word Count: 1800 ish

Warnings: There are some spoilers for Witcher 3: The Wild Hunt video game.

A/N: Chapter 2 is more introductions to the characters. It drags a little I am sure, but now that we have established them, things should start to pick up. As always if you want to be added to my taglist, let me know :)

Taglist: @rmtndew @princesssterek

Chapter 1

Chapter Two

The village that had spread out over the years around the Inn at the Crossroads was starting to settle as the sun began to set. Everyone knew that it was wise to be indoors when darkness fell. It had been a while since anything had attacked the village, but no one wanted to risk it. A few nodded to you as they rushed past on their way home from shops and the tavern. The last time a monster had come bumbling through, you had been the one to scare it off, earning yourself some wary respect.

Geralt was standing under the eaves of the Inn, keeping to the shadows. His hood was pulled up over his head, but wasn't covering his eyes. The golden orbs practically glowed as they flicked around, taking note of everything going on around him. Most people either didn't notice him or didn't see him. But you did.

"Geralt." You stopped a few strides away in case you startled him. You knew how quick his reflexes were, and didn't want to put them to the test. His eyes fell on you, and you watched as they scanned you from the top of your red hair down to the muddy travelling boots you wore. "Ready to go in?"

He grunted, pushing off the wall he had been leaning against. You smiled to yourself as he caught the door as it swung open, letting a drunk man stumble out into the street. Silently, he gestured for you to enter first. When he wanted to, Geralt could have manners.

The warmth and noise of the tavern greeted you. The smell of stew and fresh bread lingered among the less savory scents of body odor and dirt. Glinda, the bar maid, nodded to you as she flitted by, her tray laden with pints of ale. With her free hand she pointed to a free table in the back where it was quieter.

It wasn't often you brought someone with you to the Inn, and usually when you did it was for work. Glinda tried to look out for you by keeping one of the quieter tables clean and free. You flashed her a smile of appreciation, and made your way through the boisterous crowd to the table. You didn't have to look to know that Geralt followed you. His presence behind you was not easy to ignore as it set the hairs on the back of your neck on alert.

You slid into a seat with your back to the crowd, knowing that it would be more comfortable for Geralt to sit against the wall so he could see the room and any threat that might be coming. Once you both were seated, he slid his hood back, revealing his white hair.

The noise of the crowd behind you dimmed, as their attention was drawn to where you sat. Looking over your shoulder, you saw that half the room was gaping at Geralt, most with open hostility.

"Ignore them." You grumbled, turning back to face your drinking partner.

"Always do." The corner of Geralt's mouth tilted up in almost a smile. You wished, not for the first time, that you knew what he was thinking, but he was so hard to read.

"What can I get for you, dearies?" Glinda rushed over after pushing her way through the crowd.

"Two pints, and some of that stew you have cooking." Geralt nodded over to the large pot bubbling over the fire behind the bar.

"Thanks Glinda." You offered the bar maid another smile before she flitted off again. Staring at the spot where she disappeared, you worked up the courage to talk to the Witcher sitting across from you.

"Triss isn't around either." Geralt answered before you could figure out how to word your question in a way that didn't seem like prying.

"I wasn't trying to..." Your head snapped around as the words died on your tongue. "I heard Keira had found herself a Witcher. I suppose that's not you either."

"Keira Metz is off seeing the world with Lambert." Geralt confirmed what you already knew, but it had worked to buy you time to organize your thoughts.

"Why are you here, Geralt? And don't try to sell me on the herb search. We both know that's horse shite." You raised your eyebrow as you levelled him with a no nonsense look. "I know for a fact there aren't any Witcher contracts currently in circulation, so what is it?"

"I'm just following the Path, and if I see a friend along the way, is that such a crime?" Geralt tried to downplay his appearance on your doorstep.

"'Ere you go, dearies. Enjoy." Glinda set down their pints of ale along with a bowl of hit stew for each of them. And then she was off again to go take care of another customer.

"Depends on what you need with that friend." You tried to keep your emotions under control when you heard him call you a friend. You knew he would hear if your heartrate picked up, but there wasn't anything you could do to stop it from happening.

Geralt took a long draw from his ale, seeming to ponder how to respond. You tucked into your stew as you waited. Eyeing him from under your lashes, you contemplated throwing him a bone. But neither of you said anything as you enjoyed your meal.

You had forgotten what being around him was like. The long stretches of silence. The grunted responses. The alertness that never seemed to leave him entirely. And then there were the things he did for you. The comfort of knowing you had support if you needed it. The confidence he had in your ability that boosted your own.

"I was in Novigrad and heard Dandelion sing a tale of Ciri's exploits in the South." You broke the silence once you were done your stew. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter why he had found you. It was just nice to catch up with an old friend.

"He is going to make her more famous than I am." Geralt grumbled, but you could tell he was proud. And who wouldn't be? Ciri had grown into quite the spectacular woman, and was off following the Path as the only female Witcher.

"I'm glad she made it out of the White Frost safely." You reached across the table to give Geralt's hand a quick but comforting squeeze. The woman he loved as a daughter had almost died saving the world. It was no small feat.

There was a brief moment when your eyes met, and you thought he was finally going to tell you why he had searched you out. But you watched the fleeting moment disappear, and the look in his eyes became closed off once again. Pulling your hand back, you sighed.

"Well, now that you have bought me a meal and a pint, I guess it is time to head home." You pushed your chair back from the table. Nodding your thanks, you turned to make your way back through the crowd.

"Hey Glinda." You called over the din of the tavern patrons once you made it to the bar. Once you had her attention, you slid a couple of coins across the bar top toward her. "Make sure my friend has everything he wants."

"Aye, dearie." Glinda smiled, her round cheeks tinged red from the heat of the tavern. She pocketed the coins before anyone got the funny idea of trying to steal them.

"How much?" The foul smell of vomit and body odor surrounded you as a man leaned over, burying his nose in your hair.

"Excuse me?" You tried to shove him away, but for someone so drunk, his grip was awfully strong. "Get your hand off me!"

Magic lit in your palm, something you didn't do often. A little display of magic was usually enough to knock some sense into a person. It seemed to backfire this time, as he dug his finger tips painfully into your arm, causing you to wince. You were just about to let a small spark escape your palm, when you felt a presence behind you.

"I believe the lady would like to be let go." Geralt kept his voice low, but the threat was loud and clear.

"What's it to you, Mutant?" The drunk turned his attention to Geralt, loosening his grip enough in his distraction for you to slip away from him.

"It's okay, Geralt." You placed a hand in the centre of his chest as he took a step toward the man. "Let's go home."

Geralt glared at the man for a beat longer than you liked as you watched other patrons gather behind the drunk in solidarity. You didn't doubt Geralt could handle them, but you also wanted to be able to stay in this village after tonight. Tapping your fingers on his chest, the small gesture was enough to get him to look at you.

"Let's go." Your voice was firm, and he seemed to respond to it. Nodding, he followed you out of the tavern and into the cooling night. "I know you are used to that reaction, but those are my neighbours and customers in there."

"All of whom just heard you say you were taking me home with you." Geralt practically growled. He gave the tavern one last glare before following you down the road to your place.

"Well I can't trust you anywhere else here right now." You threw your hands up in exasperation. "Gods Geralt! Do you even care that you almost blew it for me in there?"

"Of course I care." Geralt grabbed your unharmed arm firmly, spinning you to face him. "Do you honestly think I don't care?"

"I... I..." You floundered as you searched for the right words. But words had never been what Geralt cared about. Looking up into his glaring golden orbs, you made a decision.

Grabbing the back of his neck, you brought his face crashing down on yours. Your lips met in a furious kiss as you both took your frustrations out on each other. Punishing each other for things that hadn't been said. His teeth grazed your lower lip, ripping a moan from your chest. Your grip on his neck shifted to his hair, pulling on it. Growling against your lips, he pulled her body flush to his.

The Inn door slamming closed was the ice water that brought you back to reality. And the reality was, you were standing in the street making out with a Witcher in full view of the neighbours you wanted to impress. Pushing him away, you straightened your clothes.

"Let's get you home." Geralt cleared his throat before he spoke.

"Good idea." You stomped off in the direction of your house, trying not to care if he followed.

#geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #witcher fanfic #henry cavill fanfic #geralt x ofc #geralt of rivia fanfic #We Meet Again

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shiny-jr · 4 years

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❝ ʙ ᴜ ᴛ ᴛ ᴏ ɴ s ❞

Yandere!Husband x Reader - Kade

A portion from my Coraline inspired story on Quotev, “Buttons.”

" Every day, I imagine a future where I can be with you. In my hand is a pen that will write a poem of me and you~ "

The kitchen was warm. Dark coffee colored bricks of the wall matched the mocha counters and iron gray kitchen utensils. Lights hung from above, reflecting against the surface of the center table which was smooth black marble, and each chair was cushioned with a pillow. A heavenly scent of freshly cooked food wafted in the air, it smelled simply divine and nearly made her mouth water.

Kade lifted her hand he held, guiding her to one of the seats around the counter. Like a gentleman he helped her into her seat. However, as soon as she was seated, he took a glance at her and smiled. Lifting her hand up, he placed a kiss on the back of her hand before taking a strand of her hair between his fingers, it curled around his thumb as he hummed, “I hope you're hungry. I’ve made enough for a king’s feast!”

The odd button-eyed man proceeded to gather plates and the meal he had cooked. Leaving (Y/n) to simply stare and wonder at the odd scenario she was in. The young woman examined the kitchen once more. It was squeaky clean and flowers seemed to decorate every corner, either in vases or simply sprouting from somewhere. This was a beautiful kitchen, like a remodeled version of the one in the house she moved it.

(Y/n) perked up once she heard humming. The man named Kade hummed the same song he sang earlier, his hands busily working on the final preparations for dinner. Laying out silver utensils on a white cloth napkin, with plates so clean one could see their own reflection, topped with an empty glass for wine. Finally, the main course. In the middle of the counter he set a large plate of spaghetti with meatballs, a bowl of salad off to the side, a basket of bread, with a small tray of various pastas. And with so many more delectable choices laid out in front of her, just for her choosing.

(Y/n) merely blinked at the sight before her, shocked beyond words. Her husband never did anything like this. Kage always forgot to eat with how his job occupied all his time. Even if he did occasionally remember, the most he would do was heat up instant ramen. “You... You did this?”

“Of course, who else would? I couldn't just let you go hungry." Kade chuckled as he poured her a bit of red wine that matched the palette of the diming lights, red and pink illuminated the entirety of the kitchen as the love song he wrote by hand magically played on harp strings originating from some unknown source.

The scent of the home cooked meal smacked her sense of smell, causing her to look down at the multitude of plates once again. It all appeared so delectable, as if it had taken hours to prepare it all. It made her stomach grumble, causing her to low her gaze in embarrassment.

He laughed lightly, amused at her timid behavior and cheeks red with embarrassment. "Don't be shy, darling~ Eat as much as your little heart desires." Swiftly he served her a plate of the main course, the spaghetti. The dish was topped with the perfect amount of smooth red sauce, meatballs perfectly spherical and hinted with tiny herbs that had been gently sprinkled over the top.

It did look appetizing, and she really did wish to try just a bite. It appeared so much better than sloppy mashed potatoes and a soggy sandwich she had for dinner. As the odd button-eyed man sat down and served his own meal, she failed to notice his observant gaze. Instead, she picked up her fork and twirled the tip of it on the plate, collecting a few strands of the spaghetti. Hesitantly she sniffed it, still cautious, yet nothing smelled off. So with her hunger gaining the best of her, she tasted the bit on the kitchen utensil. It's taste was simply divine, better than anything she had ever tasted before. Bright (e/c) eyes trailing up to the young man, she swallowed the portion in her mouth and commented in delight before she could eagerly fork more of the meal, "This is so good! How did you make this?"

"With a determined mindset and... oh, something else too. But I can't really reveal that..." Gaze traveling away to the opposite wall, a small pout etched onto his pink lips.

Lowering her fork as she took another bite, curious about what he could possibly mean. "Why can't you tell me?"

Knowing his little facade worked, he smirked playfully and rolled his eyes as he drawled, "Well... It's a secret ingredient. I use it in every meal and it works like a charm, making every dish perfectly flavorful and savory..."

Intrigued by his words, and she did not miss that playful smirk. Raising an eyebrow in interest, she propped her head up, knuckles supporting her chin. "Hm... Now I'm really curious. Can't you tell me? I won't tell another soul, promise."

"Well, I suppose since you are my wonderful wife, it's only right that you knew...~" Finally his gaze traveled back to her as he looked left then right, before leaning in close after he saw no one else was around. His positive features turned serious as his black-button eyes locked onto her (e/c) hues, whispering quietly, "I'm about to reveal to you a great secret, one for you and you only, dear. Are you ready to hear this valuable piece of information?"

Eagerly she nodded, entranced yet a bit disturbed by his buttoned gaze. Managing to respond meekly, "Yes, I am."

"The secret ingredient... is my love for you!" He grinned, planting a quick kiss on her nose while she was entranced into the moment. Black button eyes watching realization dawn onto her, her cheeks flushing red again but the slight smile on her lips proved her bashful joy. His words only furthered the embarrassment for her, "Isn't my love so sweet? It's only available for you, and I do everything for you whole-heartedly~"

After (Y/n) was over her initial embarrassment, she remembered Kage still had to finish writing his novel. She hated for the moment to end, this was the most fun and attention she had in such a long time, but he must’ve been busy. “We should probably finish soon... I know you’re busy with your book, and I wouldn’t want to bother you for too long.”

“Hm? Oh, don’t you worry, dear. I’ve already finished writing, so my attention and time is all yours.” He smiled reassuringly, ignoring his meal as his gaze was glued to her form. Humming lightly, basking in the moment where nothing was said and his song continued to play gently in the background.

(Y/n) felt slightly unnerved by his unwavering gaze, forcing herself to look away, at anything else as she was uncomfortable staring into his button eyes. It served as a reminder that this was some strange wacky dream. Unable to continue her meal, she wiped her hands on the white napkin before momentarily glancing back at him, his gaze still concentrated on her while a smile played at his lips. “Is... Is there something wrong?”

“Oh, no, no, no, no! I just... can’t help but admire you. I truly am the luckiest man on the face of the earth, to be wed to such a perfect woman~ I'm very happy to be with you again, (Y/n)."

Unsure about the entire ordeal as he gently took her hand, choosing her choice of words cautiously. "Again...? I'm sorry, but Kage is the only husband-"

"I am your other husband!" Kade stated, emphasizing his words. There was a brief sign of visible irritation and impatience before it vanished in an instant. Calmly he stood, his slim pale fingers carefully tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I've always been existent, but I've never been noticed by you. Finally, I've been blessed with the chance to greet you. After all this time, I welcome you home, my dear~" Behind him, lights twinkled like stars, almost like tiny fireflies floating through the air. Magically with the dim white light, a phrase was spelled out in neat fancy cursive, "Welcome home!"

Red flags. This entire situation was unsettling, and the way he momentarily held anger frightened her. Pulling away from his touch, she stood from her seat and took a few steps back. Wearing a small smile to conceal her nervousness as she managed slowly, "I see. Um... I'm actually kinda tired right now. You know, with unpacking and moving the furniture." This wasn't right, she had to leave. This Kade figure was posing as her husband, and it was wrong.

Standing upright, he blinked before nodding in understanding and smiling so lovingly. Linking his arm with hers, he led her away from the kitchen and through the hallways. "Of course, of course! Say no more, darling. Let's go, let me take you to our bedroom."

"Right..." For a moment she did not believe him. A shared room? It sounded far-fetched. Technically, she did share a room with Kage, but he always fell asleep in the living room or another room so it wasn’t like they slept beside each other. “Okay, that sounds... normal...?”

When Kade pushed open a door, she was taken aback by the contents inside. It was dim, illuminated by the same familiar floating lights from the kitchen that twinkled and sparkled gently. It was decorated neatly and a perfect cozy place. With one corner topped with dozens of Polaroid photos, the young man with her in the photos had his eyes concealed yet again.

Pulling back the soft covers of the bed, he allowed her to hesitantly lay down on the plush mattress. She wasted no time in pulling the blanket to her chin, resting her head on the pillow. About to flutter her eyes shut in an attempt to end this dream, but she stopped when she saw Kade kneel so his face was at level with hers. “Uh... Thank you for the meal, I guess I'll go to bed now...?”

"Wait a moment, love. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Kade took her hand, his black-button eyes glimmering in the dim light as he examined the cut and scrape against her palm. The injury from when she fell as she explored earlier. Tsking as he shook his head, chuckling lightly as he picked a bottle from the nightstand drawer. Sprinkling a few droplets on her hand, he hummed, "You're so clumsy, dear~ What would you do without me?"

(Y/n) pressed herself closer to the bed, using the blanket to cover her body from her toes to her nose, peeking out as she remained anxious under the odd man's watchful gaze. Averting her gaze, breaking the eye contact as she pulled her treated hand underneath the safety of the warm covers. "Thank you again... and goodnight...?"

Kade merely tilted his head. No longer was his expression innocent and joyful, his smile seemed somewhat strained, as if it would break its positive curl at any given moment. However, again it was gone in an instant, and he hummed in delight. “Goodnight, my dear. Sleep tight~”

#yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere author #yandere au #quotev #quotev author #shinyjr #yandere male #yandere writing #yandere scenario #shiny-jr

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