#and yesterday the first chapter came out and I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT THAT

[carooosa]

The Rose with Hidden Thorns

A/N This takes place before Enchanted Distractions

Summary: ADHD!Tav (reader) struggles with being a leader. They need to balance what they want and what the rest of the party wants. After taking some time alone for themselves, Tav is caught off guard by Astarion. They share some moments together, before Tav finds out who he really is...

Word count: 4k

Smut if you squint, slight angst at the end

One of the good things that came out of the tadpoles was your increased ability to focus. Remembering what happened last week, let alone yesterday, no longer caused mental strain. For the first time in decades, you were confident in yourself. You could finally think clearly. There was no reason to second guess yourself now that the cloud of uncertainty that followed you around seemed to dissipate. 

Botany had been one of your many short-lived passions as a kid, and now out in the forest, each turn brought about new plants and herbs to identify. The catalog that lay dormant in the back of your mind was thrust to the forefront; excitement that was long forgotten making itself known once more. 

Not only were you excited to grow your knowledge, but to actually put it to use. The nights you spent under the covers sneaking a few chapters or so of whichever botany book you could get your hands on were finally proving useful. Potions, grenades, elixirs, oils, and anything else that your party needed, you could make. Granted, it took some trial and error at first. The satisfaction of saving your group a few gold was well worth the wasted ingredients. 

You couldn’t help it when you ran off to grab a bushel of mugglewort or a handful of weavemoss. Lae’zel was the first to remark on the frequent side paths you would lead the party down.

“T’cthk. There is no time for gathering when we should be hunting down the ghaik that plagued us with these tadpoles,” she said. Lae’zel was always impatient, but when Wyll mumbled approval and Shadowheart wearily nodded in agreement, you faltered.

Noticing your self-doubt, Karlach spoke up. “Aw come on guys, don’t be so hard on Tav. It’s not like they’re doing this for no reason. They make those potions for us so we can save some coin.”

You heard a scoff behind you and turned to face a disapproving Astarion. “Extra gold is useless if you’re a mind flayer, darling.” He grabbed the plant in your hand and grimaced as he took a sniff of it. “You could at least find something with a more pleasant aroma.”

You ignored his remarks, choosing not to get into a petty argument; lately, Astarion seemed to always have a quip or smart remark ready for you. “They’re right, Karlach. We don’t have time to be taking detours,” you say, snatching the daggerroot from Astarion’s hands. “Besides, I can always come back later if I want to.”

Karlach wasn’t satisfied with that answer, and to make it known she stormed to the front of the group and started pushing everyone forward. “If you’re gonna get your panties in a twist over taking too long, you better be ready to get your steps in.”

Karlach had taken it upon herself to act as an older sibling to you. You hadn’t asked, and you were certainly capable of managing things yourself. The silent allegiance was formed after you had convinced Wyll that Karlach wasn’t a devil, and that she wasn’t harming anyone. Although her support was unnecessary, it was appreciated, as being tasked to make difficult decisions as the impromptu leader weighed heavy on you.

You knew you weren’t everyone’s first choice of a leader, anyway. Hells, you weren’t even your first choice as a leader. Wyll seemed like the smartest answer, but neither Astarion nor Karlach felt comfortable with a monster and devil hunter commanding them around. Gale was the next logical option, however with the secrecy of his… condition… and the fact that if he died again he would destroy Faerun, he had been pushed to the back of the party.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel had volunteered at the exact same time, and it was clear amongst everyone that neither of them would be calling the shots. You suggested Karlach, and Astarion had made some comment about how she would blow at the first difficult decision. You’d suggested him then, instead; clearly this is what that manipulative vampire wanted. He smirked when you had said his name, but his eyes searched your face. He was looking for something, and you weren’t sure what. Before you could comment, he had taken you by surprise by saying that you would be the best choice. 

“Darling, I do not need that stress. My face is flawless and I’d like to keep it that way. However, you,” he had always found ways to make digs at you, “look like the type who handles stress regularly. You were able to talk your way out of getting burnt to a crisp by a Zhentarim, while he was casting a fireball. You were able to walk into the goblin camp without causing any suspicion. You were able to somehow convince all of us to work together to get these damned tadpoles out of our heads.”

The rest of the group had agreed with his reasoning, and you were set in charge of the party. You tried to argue, but Astarion cut you off

“It’s already been decided. Besides, if you ever need help, I’m sure anyone here would be willing.” He took a step closer to you and lowered his voice to be just above a whisper, “I know I certainly would.” You weren’t sure if he had said that to flirt with you or threaten you, as the glint in his eyes could’ve gone either way.

What he had said about the others helping you had been a load of shit. In fact, everyone seemed to come to you for every little problem now. Gale needed an enchanted artifact to consume? It was up to you to find one. Wyll turned into a half-devil because he didn’t kill Karlach? You had to comfort both of them and promise to find a way to get him out of his pact. Lae’zel stood too close to Shadowheart? You were the one running in between them to stop the impending bloodbath. And yet there everyone was, annoyed that you took quick detours to find ingredients to help them spend less money on potions. 

Now here you were, 2 nights later, trying to remember where you saw the herbs on the path taken earlier that day. You were mumbling to yourself as you passed the same dead tree for the 3rd time when you heard a twig snap behind you. You reached into your bag and grabbed the first thing you could to threaten your stalker, turning around to prepare for a fight.

Astarion stood in front of you with both hands up in the air like a thug who had just been caught red-handed. “A mushroom?” He raised an eyebrow while using one of his hands to push the fungus away from his face. “Not the most menacing of weapons, is it now?”

You pushed him away from you as you sighed in relief “Hells, Astarion, you scared me! It’s not nice to sneak up on someone, you know? What are you even doing out here this late?”

He tutted at your reprimanding. “I could ask you the same thing. You’ve been walking in a circle for the past 20 minutes.”

You shoved the mushroom into your bag and turned away from Astarion, continuing to search the brush for plants. “I told everyone I would stop taking detours, didn’t I?”

“So you’re out collecting mushrooms?”

“Not just mushrooms,” you corrected, “other ingredients, too.”

As you dirtied your hands in the brush, a silence fell over the both of you. You grabbed the last morsel of a mushroom and turned around to be faced with Astarion tapping his foot impatiently, his arms folded across his chest. “I haven’t seen you make any potions lately.”

You stare at him incredulously. “I know. I’m purposely not flaunting around the potions that I spend half my night gathering ingredients for and the other half making.”

Astarion laughed and his mouth curled into a devilish grin. “Who would’ve thought that the ever-so-kind and selfless Tav would do something for only their gain.”

A warm blush spread over your cheeks. “You still never told me why you followed me out here. Everyone needs to sleep if we’re going to have any hope of getting these tadpoles out.”

“Darling, are you forgetting that I’m an elf? We don’t ne-“

“Oh that’s right!” You interrupted, “Elves don’t sleep, they meditate. I read that in a book. Is it true that elves can relive exact memories?” 

“That… depends.”

Oblivious to his uncomfortable demeanor, you ask more invasive questions. “Is it true that elves don’t grow facial hair? It looked like none of the wood elves in the grove had facial hair. I suppose it’s kinda ignorant of me to just assume all elves are the same. I mean, Halsin is super tall and elves are usually short.” You quickly blurt out an apology, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Besides I wouldn’t even call you short, you’re taller than me, although that’s not saying much,” your words start to tumble over each other as you ramble. You turn back around and bend over a rock to continue searching for ingredients, wincing as you remember you’ve already collected anything of use.

Astarion chuckles as he brings a hand to his forehead. “Yes, it is quite rude of you to assume all elves fit into the exact description you found in whatever children’s book you read.” He looks at you in amusement, “But sadly, no, I cannot grow facial hair.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad. You don’t have to worry about shaving.” With your mind focused on pretending to search, you don’t realize the words you’re saying until after they come out, “it must be nice not having to worry about pubic hair, either.” 

You freeze as your mind catches up to your mouth.

Astarion takes a step towards you, positioning himself right behind you, settling his hands gently on your back as he leans down to your ear.

“Was that also in a book of yours?” His breath tickles the tip of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Noticing the way your body reacts, he drops his head down. His lips hover over your neck for a moment before he presses himself into you, causing you to let out a gasp. You feel his hardness push into your back as one of his hands begins to slowly caress your arm.

His behavior surprises you, and you try to think back to any signs of possible attraction. Some looks that linger for a second too long, a hand on the small of your back as he passes by, and the fact that lately he seems to always be next to you, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions. These gestures could very well mean nothing to him and you would be none the wiser.

Thinking back on what you know of him, you realize you don’t know much at all. He mentioned that he was a magistrate in Baldur’s Gate before the mind flayer abduction, but that was about it when it came to his past. Astarion would always change the subject whenever anyone asked him anything personal. Just like he had changed the subject earlier when you asked him a question.

While you were lost in your mind, he began to grind into you, the hand that was previously caressing your arm now gently groping your breast. He placed soft kisses on your neck, moving from the tip of your ear to the nook where your collarbone was. Your body pushed back against his absentmindedly, matching the slow rhythm of movement he had set.

It took him completely off guard when you spoke up. “You never answered my question: what are you doing out here?”

He quickly pushed off of you, “Gods, Tav! You’re still thinking about that?” You scrambled off of the rock and caught a glimpse of him adjusting his clothes. A sticky silence filled the air as you stood and studied Astarion. His face was turned away from yours, similar to how a child would act if they were trying to show defiance. The silence continued as it became clear neither of you would fold. You refused to let him get away with not answering you again.

To ensure there wouldn’t be any other distractions, you stared into the side of his face, repeating in your mind over and over, “What was he doing out here this late?” You weren’t sure how long you both stayed there; seconds, minutes, hours; but at one point Astarion quickly glanced and made eye contact with you before averting his eyes again. You watched as his features softened for a moment. That softness was swiftly hidden by a sly smirk as Astarion relented and turned towards you.

“If you really must know the truth, I was curious as to what you were up to.” Although he spoke with a concerned tone, his eyes were slightly glazed over.

“So you decided to sneak up on me and scare me?” This time you were the one who acted like a child, crossing your arms and letting out a huff.

Astarion let out that mischievous chuckle of his and took a step toward you. “That really wasn’t my intention, whether you believe it or not. I was simply worried about you.”

His words took you by surprise, a small gasp leaving your mouth. You tried to find the words to a smart reply, but instead stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

As if your reaction was what he wanted, the glint returned to his eyes. He closed the gap between the two of you, his movements precise and calculated. Astarion gently grasped your arms and unfolded them, his hands cupping both of yours. 

“Is that really so hard to believe, darling? That I could be worried about you?”

You felt your tadpole squirm from behind your eye, causing you to look up at Astarion. He silently pleaded, and you relented, opening up your mind to whatever it was he was going to show you. You closed your eyes, the darkness fading into the previous morning. 

You saw yourself from Astarion’s point of view. There was blood sprayed all over your armor from a skirmish with some gnolls. Although you had tried to hide the gaping wound on the left of your back, it was clear now that Astarion had noticed it.

After checking on the rest of your party, you watched as your body stumbled in to what you thought was a secluded corner. Your past self quickly pulled up your armor to apply a salve on the wound. In this vision, you could feel what Astarion felt as he watched you. Concern, yes, but there was something else there. Something feral that had awakened once you pulled up your armor. That feeling was pushed down, and just as he had done earlier in the day, Astarion stayed in place, watching you treat your wound from a distance.

Another vision pushed into your mind, this one unique and new; not a retelling of the past, but instead currently happening to you. You were out in the forest, taking off your clothes. As you lifted your blouse above your head, cold hands wrapped around your waist. You let out a shudder as needy lips worked their way up your back. The kissing stopped at your neck, and you turned your head to the side to get a view of who was with you. Before you could see the white curls and pointy ears of the man behind you, his scent overwhelmed you. You let out a choked gasp.

Astarion made eye contact with you, his eyes radiating that same feral feeling you must have felt in the previous vision. Without leaving you a chance to catch your breath, his lips crashed into yours. He turned your body to face his as his grip tightened on your waist. A low growl started in the back of his throat as he ravished your lips. Instinctively, your hands raised up to his head and grasped at his hair, trying to ground yourself as your pulse quickened.

The familiar feeling of a wiggle behind your eye snapped your mind back to whatever “reality” you were currently in. You felt Astarion trying to dig deeper into your mind, into your wants and desires, and without a second thought, you quickly yanked his head back, throwing you out of the vision. 

As you steadied yourself, Astarion made his way behind you, similar to the vision he had forced into your head.

“Darling, let’s go back to camp, hm?” he said in a low, sultry voice.

You were tempted to agree, if for nothing else to at least get some much-needed rest. But if you went back now, there wouldn’t be enough ingredients to make a potion of greater healing, and after your fight with the gnolls earlier today, you were desperately needing one. “I won’t rest until I find that balsam I saw earlier.”

Astarion gave you a tight squeeze before pushing you away, “Gods, you really are persistent, aren’t you? I guess I have no choice but to aid in your search.” 

You scoff, “You and I both know that you won’t be getting your hands dirty.”

The two of you spend the next two hours searching. Astarion is the one who finds the balsam, and you’re the one who digs it up. You make your way back to camp, talking about trivial, inconsequential things; anything you can think of to keep your mind off the visions Astarion showed you earlier. 

Has he always looked at me with such cravings? Maybe I’m oblivious to any signals he’s given me, you ponder. The utter need you felt from Astarion as you stood in his shoes was almost unbearable. It was hard to breathe. You glance up at him beside you and see that stoic face he always reverts to. His hair looks like it’s glowing in the moonlight, his eyes sparkling like the stars in the sky. 

You catch the faint flicker of the camp’s fire in his eyes’ reflection and you pick up your pace, not noticing the brief second that Astarion’s eyes caught yours. Your body aches from the exhaustion of the past few days, and you quickly drop your bag and kick off your shoes, not caring about the mess you’re making. I’ll deal with it in the morning, you think to yourself, as you pass out next to the fire.

You wake up with a jolt and push yourself up from your bedroll. In front of you is Astarion, his eyes swirling with fear. His mouth is opened into a snarl, and the moonlight catches on his teeth.

His fangs.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Astarion pleads with you to listen. He says that he’s a vampire spawn. As he continues to frantically explain himself, your body grows numb. Your mind wanders away as you question everything that happened mere hours before.

You sit all the way up from your bedroll, causing Astarion to stumble to his feet. While he’s regaining his balance, you mindlessly ask, “What were you actually doing out late, Astarion?” You don’t look him in the eyes when you question him.

He sighs. A moment passes before he answers, “I was out hunting. I heard a rustling and followed it. To be honest, I thought it was a mouse making that noise. It just so happened that what I heard was you, scrounging around the forest floor.” He lets out a nervous chuckle before continuing, “I was merely curious as to what you were doing. I had no intent to harm you. I promise.”

You don’t believe a word he says, but you’re too tired to question the authenticity of his story. If he wasn’t just ‘curious’ as to what you were doing and instead hunting yo—

You quickly push the thought down and remind yourself that you’re supposed to be a leader to this group, to Astarion. Leaders are strong and benevolent. You’ve always struggled when it came to strength, and lately, more and more blows have been hitting you. Difficult decisions are always on your shoulders, and no matter what you choose, someone is always let down.

You weren’t sure how to command a group of adventurers, but you knew you had to be selfless. And a selfless leader makes any sacrifices necessary for their companions.

“Ok.”

Astarion looks at you with an arched brow. “Okay? You’re not going to shove a stake through my heart?” 

Refusing to meet his eyes, you bluntly say, “I’m not going to judge you for taking care of your needs. Everyone in this group needs sustenance to be strong enough to fight.” Your exhaustion is starting to catch up with you, and perhaps if you had more sleep you would have thought your next actions through. Against your better judgment, you tilt your head to the side and offer your neck. “Go ahead, but make it quick.”

Astarion takes a step back, surprised that you would be willing to give him your blood. You’ve also surprised yourself, but your mind is elsewhere as he positions himself on his knees in front of you. You shiver as he gently brushes away the hair from your neck. Without warning, a sharp pain shoots through your neck. You feel your blood drain as Astarion sinks his teeth in deeper, consuming your very life’s essence.

You begin to feel dizzy from the blood loss.  Unable to stay present in this moment, you think of all the times any of your companions have helped you, and you realize they all have the same thing in common: they’re using you as protection. Lae’zel and Shadowheart are using you as protection against each other; Karlach is using you as a safety against Wyll. Gale is ensured magical items to consume, and Wyll can rest easy with your assurances of his freedom from Mizora.

You thought he was different, but even Astarion was using you for his benefit. For his place in this group. For his meals. Tears start to pour down your face and your body trembles from the heartache you feel.

Astarion pulls away from you and you finally look him in the eye. His eyes are blown out, practically completely black. There almost looks to be genuine concern on his face. Almost.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you? Well, more than the obvious, of course I hurt you, I can go get a potion,” he rambles, your blood dripping from the side of his mouth.

Barely above a whisper, you stare him directly in the eye as you say, “I thought someone actually cared about me for me, not for what I could provide them.”

Taken aback, Astarion stares at you, his expression unreadable. He quietly gets up and starts to walk into the forest before stopping. “This was a gift, you know. I won’t forget this.”

As you watch him slither into the darkness, your exhaustion comes back. Your body, mind, and blood are all drained. Sleep quickly consumes you, your mind an endless void allowing you no respite from your sorrows. 

When you awake, the rest of your party is already packed up and ready to continue on the path forward. You quickly ready yourself, not noticing the neat bundles that the plants from the previous night were tied into, and prepare for the long trek ahead. 

Thank you to @socialinadequacybeingsuchamust for helping me with spell checking/grammar/pushing the story in the right direction! And thank you to the many beta readers on @oharahive's discord!

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #bg3 shadowheart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 karlach #bg3 gale #bg3 wyll #fluff #smut if you squint #angst

[paddockbunny]

Hello, can you do 17 and 46 from nsfw prompt list for lando norris. Please and thanks :)

Lando Norris and the buzzy little "friend"

Summary : A certain Mr Norris sets panic coursing through you as he asks to stay over for the first time. You agree but when he finds something in your drawer that makes you all kinds of embarrassed he suddenly is wide awake again....and horny. Very, very horny. Rating : 18+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 2, 366 Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, explicit language, female masturbation, male masturbation, orgasm discussion & use of sex toys. Prompt Numbers : 17. Toys (gifting you one, choosing one together, using one) & 46. He watches you masterbate (does he ask or do you suggest, does he walk in on you etc) 💞 Authors Note: Please enjoy a little Lando as I’m working hard on the next few “All Too Well” chapters 🥰.

As Lando yawned you knew what was about to come pouring out of his mouth as the end credits began to roll on the film you guys had been watching. “Baby, I’m too tired to drive home…” He paused and you were holding your breath. “…can I stay over?”

His question hung in the air. He hadn’t stayed at your place yet. You’d only really been dating officially for around eight weeks and in all that time you had only stayed at his or in his hotel rooms. In fact, tonight was probably the longest you guys had actually spent in your apartment. Usually he was picking you up or dropping you off and aside from that one time you roped him into helping move your sofa from one wall to the other, he hadn’t really spent any significant amount of time in your abode. You knew the longer you left the question unanswered he would be thinking the worst so quickly you hurried out a; “Yup, ok.”

As soon as you confirmed he would indeed be staying the night in your bed a knot formed in your stomach and as utterly ridiculous as it sounded, you started to think about your bedroom in your head. You had the typical bedroom for a woman in her early twenties trying to figure out what kind of woman she was while showing her personality. The walls were neutral but you had some prints on them and then a bookshelf with little books and more mementos of what felt like stupid, childish trinkets now you thought about it. Then your mind shot to Mr Barnaby on your bed and tried to think of how you could squirrel him away without Lando noticing. As quickly as you thought of your childhood bear, you also thought of the clothes that you need to put away in the washing basket and the others on the chair that needed washing. Fuck, he had seen you naked. Surely he could handle seeing yesterdays bra?

You asked Lando to take the plates and glasses to the kitchen and you said you were just popping to the restroom but really you went to give your room a quick glance. Everything was fine. You actually put the clothes away this morning and the dirty clothes were already in your washing machine, you had forgotten in a panic and quickly you put Mr Barnaby in a drawer before Lando finally appeared in your room and you smiled at him.

Observing your new boyfriend you realised how tired he actually looked and he really shouldn’t have been driving. He came straight to you from his flight home earlier tonight. He made you melt when he said he was desperate to see you and have you cuddled in his arms. It made you feel so grateful to the universe for allowing you to get to see this beautifully sensitive guy you were really falling head of heels in love with. He kissed the top of your head and asked again if you were ok with him staying and you nodded. He took your confirmation and ran with it. Pulling both his hoody and his t-shirt off at the same time. Lando’s tanned, taught skin never failed to make your mouth water. You couldn’t help but stare for a while before finally, he encouraged you to get undressed too. You pulled your own hoody off and looked down to see your hands tremor. Why the fuck were you nervous? He had seen your boobs before. He liked your boobs. He really liked your boobs but you supposed that perhaps it was because usually you guys were having sex before falling asleep and that was why tonight felt different.

Lando got into your bed before you did and you could feel his eyes on you as you removed your sweatpants and folded them before placing them on the chair in the corner of the room. Eventually you had to turn and finally, the eyes that had been watching you remove your clothes now stared into yours. He was lying in your sheets, it slung across his mid chest and his bicep looked good enough to sink your teeth into as he curled it behind his head. Lando looked so at home in your bed. He looked so comfortable and natural. Effortless. And what was even more effortless was the way that he pulled back the covers for you to get in bedside him. The bed was fairly new and the mattress sunk only a little as you slid into it to be beside Lando. Your body slithered under the covers and was instantly met by his radiating heat. You knew he knew you were on edge and so he started talking to you in an effort to get you more relaxed. His bed voice was better than any calming app you could download on your phone. And the fact that no one else got to hear it turned you on to no end. And low and behold it was working. His voice eased your worry. As a thank-you you went to lean in to kiss him warmly but he pulled back a little. Lando admitted that his lips were dry and he confessed he had been avoiding kissing you all night due to it because he didn’t want to disappoint you. You found it to be a ridiculous reason considering he knew how much you loved his lips and you didn’t want to be denied them, especially not any longer. So you informed him there was a chapstick in the bedside table.

“Uh…” He let out a short uncouth chuckle “y/n what’s this?” He asked and before you could even ask him a single question he was holding perhaps the worst thing he could ever have found in your room. A small little battery operated friend that kept you company over the course of your eight long single girl months. Now it seemed ridiculous to have been worried about Mr Barnaby, your clean and dirty clothes and appearing like your room was mature enough. You eventually made eye contact with him and you saw the amusement plastered all across his face.

“So uh, how does this…” Lando looked for the button and the words to beg him not too turn it on were teetering on the tip of your tongue but it was too late. The toy suddenly started buzzing and Lando’s mouth dropped open. “Fuck. That’s so strong.” He practically shouted and you tried to make a grab for it but he immediately held it away from you. And then, when he glanced at you, you could read his mind. Before you had a chance to tell him that what his filthy, dirty mind was thinking would not be happening he was already suggesting it; “Show me…show me how you use it.” “No, you’re supposed to be tiered, Lando.” You tried to sound as commanding as possible but it was futile.  “Well, I’m not anymore.” He was so blunt “Now, I’m just horny.”

Lando’s stare told you there was no way he was going to give up. He was going to be persistent about him watching you use the toy you bought on a whim. You sighed. “I’m too…” You were about to say tired but then instead said “embarrassed.” And covered your no doubt blushing face. You didn’t have the kind of girlfriends that would talk about that sort of thing. It wasn’t like you had a group like Carrie Bradshaw in Sex and the City. And you couldn’t liken yourself to no Samantha Jones – even if you figured you’d be the only one out of your group of friends who actually did own a vibrator. “Why? I’ve seen everything already” He smirked “I’ve tasted everything already.” That was true and the memory of it made you press your legs together, which only added to Lando’s insistence. “See, your horny thinking about it.”

His persuasion lasted approximately five minutes. He started gently but then he rolled on top of you and started kissing your neck. It was defiantly a tactic to get you all hot and bothered so he would get what he wanted but now he the effect he had desired and your blood coursed down south. You muttered a quick; “fine” and Lando immediately pulled the covers back and got down to the bottom of the bed excitedly.

“Ok…” he said and you were waiting on him making some cheesy remark like they did at the start of a race. You took the toy from his grip and watched as he licked his lips when you took your panties off and gently opened your legs for him. His eyes trailed down over your now naked body and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself. It wasn’t like it was a regular occurrence. In fact, no guy had ever asked you to masturbate for him – touch yourself as they fucked you, yes but masturbate, as they watched, never. You slowly ran your fingers down across your dampening folds. Collecting some of your arousal and spreading it around a bit so your toy would easily glide. As your boyfriend was laser focused on what your fingers were doing you were more focused on watching his reactions. Intently you watched as he bit his lower lip and moved his hand toward his crotch and his evidently hardening member. You had to remind yourself to focus because watching Lando as he palmed at his glorious cock through his straining boxers almost made you lapse concentration. He groaned as soon as you sighed when you started warming up by playing with your sensitive clit before finally turning on the toy to it’s lowest setting.

When you hovered the humming toy over yourself so lightly that it barely touched you, Lando groaned again. Your back arched and naturally you pressed it to yourself slightly harder. Soft vibrations made sparks rupture across your ultra sensitive areas. Your nipples hardened while your toes curled at the blissfully pleasing sensation. “How does it feel, baby?” “So fucking good, Lando.” Your eyes closed and you began to lose the nerves that had built inside of you. Your breathing quickened but it wasn’t the only person’s. Just watching the toy vibrating away, making your pretty pussy flutter clearly set Lando off. You could hear his breathing first followed by a hiss and then the sound of his hand working up and down his lengthy, big cock. Almost like you were giving him a reward just as well as yourself, you pressed the button to turn the toy up higher. A delighted gasp fled your lips, which was followed by another and another while your brow furrowed and you squirmed at the intense sensation. Truthfully, since you started sleeping with Lando you hadn’t reached for the toy once. He had you satisfied enough that you never felt like you needed to get yourself off. You had forgotten about how quickly the vibrator made you a quivering, trembling mess. So the search for your orgasm was going to be a quick one. Lando swore again and just hearing him getting off while he watched you did something too you. It gave you such a confidence boost and such a high that you bumped up the intensity of the vibrating friend even more.

“Lan…” you breathed, struggling to say his name. “Fuck, your so beautiful.” He groaned and this time, you opened your eyes to see what he was doing. Lando’s eyes were honed in on your pussy while his hand was frantically pumping up and down his engorged cock. You had to stay focused because usually that sight would make you want to get on your knees and taking him in your mouth till he finished all over your tongue but that was not your goal tonight. He wanted to see you get off not the other way round. However, the sheer thought of blowing your panting boyfriend was enough to give you the first little sparks of an orgasm. You breathed his name again and gritted your teeth as you moved the toy a little so it was now, pressed directly to your clit and it was utterly relentless. In your mind you willed yourself to keep going and keep it exactly where you had it because you knew any second your legs were going to start trembling and you’d have a very intense, beautiful release.

With nothing short of a pornographic moan, you climaxed. Your orgasm ripped through your entire body and was so powerful that you lunged forward and grabbed hold of Lando’s arm just for stability. Swear words flowed freely from you as your nails dug into Lando’s skin and your legs quaked with how extreme your high was. While you fought with your lungs to calm your breathing, Lando clearly found watching you while you got yourself off too much. Only seconds after your own release, Lando was finding his. Your boyfriends’ unsteady grunts increasing with every rough stroke until finally – with your name blurting out of his open mouth – cum flowed from the tip of his cock. Your eyes never left the sight, too woozy from your high but also because you liked seeing the way your dirty, naughty act affected him. His thighs tensed, his lower abs did too, until they trembled just like yours had done till he was completely spent.

“Fuck….” He sighed and opened his eyes, turned toward you and repeated himself with a shaky little laugh. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His praise meant everything to you. He then proceeded to stumble over his words and he tried to describe what he watched but he ended you just grabbing you and kissing you deeply. “Thank-you.” He stated eventually against your lips and you couldn’t help but thank him back. You had too. Without his insistence you would probably have never relaxed with him sleeping over for the first time.               

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #lando norris fic #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris blurb #lando norris rec #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you

[mychoombatheroomba]

Proper Introductions

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 2

You're feeling a lot of regret for your performance in the training yard yesterday. For lots of reasons.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Chapter Index

You had almost forgotten what it was to be a fuckup. You had never been a perfect soldier, by any means, but lately you had been feeling like a competent one again. STRATCOM was kicking the living shit out of you, but you had felt like you were finally cresting the mountain, getting it to a manageable level of daily pain. 

Should have known better than to let yourself get too comfortable. Krauser always noticed when any of you got comfortable.

Your shame and the memory of steel against your side weighed on you the rest of the day, through the training and meals and even into your hour of personal time. An hour that you dedicated to running the drills that Krauser had taught you, trying to clear your head before lights out. 

It only partially worked, and the night was too long and too short all at the same time. When you finally got to sleep, you dreamed of snow and blood, and when you woke the next morning, you felt brittle. Breakable. The dog tags around your neck felt heavy, and you fought the urge to take them off. 

It pissed you off something fierce, so as the day’s training began, you pushed yourself hard, turning that shame into gasoline, letting it burn in your chest. Every shot you fired at the range, every extra millisecond it took to disassemble your weapon was another spark to the blaze. It burned and burned, until lunch time came, and you glimpsed another reason to regret your performance yesterday. 

“Looks like Krauser kicked the shit out of Pretty Boy.” One of your fellows, Valeria, snickered. Her eyes were fixed across the tables, her voice loud enough to carry just as far. Those who cared for gossip looked at who she spoke of, and with the heaviness in your gut, you couldn’t help but join them. 

He’d bruised. That ridiculous haircut of his fell on the wrong side of his face to hide the shiner that was forming across the rookie’s cheek, creeping up to just beneath his eye. Right where your fist had connected the day before. Seeing it made you feel, quite simply, like a piece of shit. It wasn’t the first time you’d given someone a mark in training. Wouldn’t be the last. Still, when he felt all those eyes on him and looked up, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d kicked a puppy. He couldn’t have been that much younger than you, but there was just something about those ocean eyes that deepened the pit of regret in your stomach. That only got worse when your own eyes met his. You thought he’d look away quickly. 

Instead, you found yourself surprised as the bruised cadet held your gaze, just the way he had when his guard had been up yesterday, before you’d knocked him to the ground.

“Wasn’t the Major,” Alejandro, another of your peers, corrected Valeria. Then, you felt the energy around the tables shift and you took your eyes off the kid you’d injured and looked instead at the man speaking. “Way I heard it,” he gave you a wolf grin, lifting a cup of water towards you in a toast, “it was our Sergeant, over here.” 

Murmurs swept around you, and you did your best to hide your grimace.

“Beating up babies now, huh?” Someone jabbed. You almost struck back. He put up more of a fight than you ever have was right at the tip of your tongue. A few years ago, you would have hurled the insult with abandon. Pull the pin and toss. Now . . . well, with the shit sleep you had and the general less-than-ideal way you felt, you just went back to eating your meal. If the scop they served could be called that. 

The rest of the recruits had their fun - as much of it as could be had before they realized you weren’t giving them anything to work with. You, in the meantime, just sank back into your own spiral of thoughts. 

You shouldn’t have hit him like that. Krauser was right, you shouldn’t have been tagged in the first place, but you didn’t make things better for yourself with a cheap shot. 

You’d just felt that knife against you and . . . and then you’d fucked up. You’d brought your own shit into the fight, made it someone else’s problem. Let yourself get scared by a fucking practice knife. It was stupid. 

It was stupid, and you wanted to put it behind you.

You finished your food quickly. Wasn’t anything to savor, anyway. Then, you stood, bringing your empty tray with you as you marched towards him. He was sitting by himself, and you were grateful that no one would be directly privy to this conversation. He had stopped looking at you, but your movement drew some quick glances from him. Even in those glimpses, he met you with a sharpness. That only grew as you approached, and more of his attention turned to you. Inquisitorial came to mind, one of those damn SAT words that you remembered, god knows why. He looked like he was trying to figure you out. 

He had grit, you had to give him that. 

Made you wonder what his life was like before this. Made you wonder about a lot of things. Mostly, though, you wondered-

“What’s your name?”

He looked surprised that you were asking. His expression said 'What the hell are you doing?'

You wanted to ask yourself the same thing. 

Instead, you waited that second or two before he answered. 

“Uh, Kennedy.” 

“I know. Krauser said that yesterday. I meant your first name.” 

Another pause, and you saw the gears turning in his head. “. . . Leon.” 

You nodded. Pointed to his cheek. “Sorry about that, Leon. You got me. Shouldn’t have been such a dick about it.” 

The recruit - Leon - blinked. His blue eyes moved away from you for a moment. Considering what to say. Then, he shook his head. “No, it’s . . .” if he said fine, you already knew that it would be a lie. He’d been pissed yesterday when you did it, and you couldn’t blame him. “It’s fine.” 

There it was. Liar. A polite liar. 

“No, it’s not. I was an asshole. Shouldn’t have happened.” 

He looked at you, confused, and you understood it well enough. Then, that sharpness about him turned to something a little brighter. Cautiously optimistic. “You said it, not me.” 

“I did.” Again, you nodded. There. Apology delivered, time for you to move on. 

You made it a step before Leon spoke again. “Thank you. For the apology.” 

Oh, he was not the sort of person you would expect to be here. 

Everyone you had trained with so far had been hardened bastards, most of them old and grizzled vets or arrogant hotshots. They needed the best. People who were going to get the job done. They were here to do a job, same as you. You’d come to expect no great affection. 

Even so, looking back at Leon, you found someone who looked genuinely, truly grateful. It took no special insight to imagine why. The training for the US Strategic Command was not and never would be the hardest thing you’d done in life, but it ground you down. It was a pressure cooker, and everyone felt it every second of every day. Krauser was a good teacher, but he was the sort who would push you to your breaking point. Beat you down so you never forgot when and how you showed a weakness. He had long warned that there would be no mercy in the real world, so he trained you without it. So, you knew that when Leon looked at you like that, it was because any kindness shown here was a rarity.

“Don’t mention it,” you said back. Here, in the midst of training for the worst of scenarios, on this most shitty of days, it felt nice to be not only forgiven, but maybe even appreciated. That little feeling stopped you from leaving so quickly, and you stepped towards the recruit once more. “And also: smaller arm movements.”

“What?”

“In our fight,” you clarified, “that’s how I could tell where you were going to go. You were telegraphing everything.” 

Leon almost smiled. It looked good on him. “Krauser told me the same thing yesterday. After.” 

“Well, he’s right.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” 

“Good.” 

The interaction was awkward, and you, for one, never wanted to do it again. Still, that was a better feeling to focus on than the crushing guilt you’d been stuck under all morning. You readily embraced it as you went into afternoon drills, glad you could at least make good on one of your mistakes. 

As for the others . . . well, those were the ones you clung to as you and Valeria circled each other later, knives flashing in the midday sun.

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#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #jack krauser #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #between the bones #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x you #no y/n

[ganseyth]

The Date

PREVIOUS PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

Part: 13

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

Length: 1.8k

Warnings: fluff towards the end

Note: thank you guys so much for being patient with me!! i started my third year of university yesterday so i have been super busy - but nevertheless i hope you love this chapter!! :)

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You still couldn't believe this was happening. 

You had half expected your sister to get cold feet and back out last minute but unfortunately, those hopes faded as you pulled up to the chapel. 

You were glad to be here for her though. Deep down you truly wanted her to be happy even if she married that idiot you now had to call brother-in-law. 

But you also knew there would always be a part of you in the back of your mind wondering when he was going to fail her. 

You just hoped you could put her back together. 

As you got out of the car you looked over at your sister one last time to make sure her appearance was wedding day material. 

Her dress was stunning and not a single wrinkle ruined the fabric despite it being worn in the car. 

Her hair had been let down with just a few pieces pinned up to frame her face and not a single strand was out of place. 

Her makeup was simple but had a flair only she could pull off. 

To put it simply... 

She was beautiful. 

You just hoped you looked the same. 

Your dress had gotten a little wrinkled in the car and the bun the hairdresser had done before you left had sunk a little. 

Your makeup was also done to match your sisters but you felt as if some of the colors she used weren't right for you. 

You just hoped Jason would like it. 

Your heart stumbled as the thought of him standing in the chapel crossed your mind. 

He would of course be wearing a form-fitting black suit that would be custom-made just for him. You just knew Bruce Wayne would spare no expense when it came to buying his son a suit. 

You pushed that thought away as your sister cleared her throat. 

"Do I look okay?" your sister asked, seeming a bit nervous as you made it to the closed doors that led to the wedding hall. 

"Absolutely stunning," you replied with a smile. 

Your sister gave you a big smile in return as the door to your left opened. 

"Shall we?"

You looked up at your ex in surprise as he closed the door behind him, arm extended. 

The question was left unanswered as you tried to get a grip on the fact that your ex was going to walk you down the aisle. 

With all the craziness of the wedding, you had forgotten about that little detail. 

Nodding, you slowly took his arm, letting yourself be dragged through the now-open church doors.

The first thing you noticed was Jason. 

You knew you should probably be looking at the front of the room but you couldn't help it. He looked beautiful.

His dark hair looked soft enough to run your fingers through it and the red tie he wore matched perfectly with the color of your dress.

His suit fit him flawlessly and you weren't surprised by the silver cufflinks at his wrists sporting the Wayne emblem. 

He looked professional but still your Jason. 

Your Jason. 

How in the world were you going to explain your feelings towards him? 

It would probably destroy you if he didn't feel the same. 

He seemed to notice your hesitant appearance and offered you an amused smirk before mouthing, "You look beautiful." 

The words sent chills down your spine.

He was going to be the death of you. 

Your ex, as if following your gaze squeezed your arm to get your attention back on the front of the chapel. 

It was only then you noticed the music. 

At some point during your trek down the aisle, they started playing a slow instrumental song that meant your sister was about to enter. 

"We better hurry up," your ex whispered into your ear before gently leading you to your position at the altar. 

His arm rested against yours a bit too long until he let go to take his place behind your sister's almost husband. 

Then the doors to the chapel opened and your sister made her way down the aisle on your dad's arm. 

You almost teared up at the look your dad had on his face.  You could tell he was happy to have his little girl get married. 

No matter who the groom was.

He was happy if she was happy. 

You hoped he could offer you the same courtesy someday. 

At that thought you looked back to Jason who was already looking at you. 

You smiled softly. 

He smiled back before mouthing the word "hi". 

You then decided to offer your own secret admiration, "You look very handsome". 

Jason's eyes widened slightly at the compliment but then shifted to your left where your sister was now standing. You followed his gaze. 

You smiled at the sight. Your sister was positively beaming and her almost husband to your surprise looked just as smitten. 

The officiant began to say his rehearsed lines and the couple in front of you said their vows. 

Then they exchanged rings.

Then finally the officiate announced they were officially man and wife which ended with them kissing longer than expected but everyone clapped nonetheless.

The ceremony itself was short but sweet, something you knew your sister appreciated as she was ready to start her honeymoon as soon as possible.

But before they could leave you knew your mom had planned a small reception in their honor. 

So with a nod from the officiant, you followed your sister and new brother-in-law down the aisle while the rest of the party followed behind. 

As the newlyweds walked through the chapel doors your parents announced they would drive the lovely couple and your ex home to start the party, leaving you and Jason to have a nice walk home to enjoy some time together. 

"Well, it looks like your parents gave us a wedding gift," Jason commented as he waved to your parents as their car pulled out of the entrance. 

"I wouldn't necessarily call it a gift," you laughed, "I think my mom forgot I was wearing heels." 

"Ah if only there was a strong boyfriend around to carry you," he teased before bending down to take off your shoes. 

As his fingers brushed your ankle you could have sworn you would have fallen over if his other hand wasn't wrapped securely around your calf. 

"Jason I can do that," you whined. 

His smirk told you exactly how much he didn't want you to do that.

 "Yeah I know but then I couldn't do this," he replied leaning forward to place a kiss just below your knee.

You let out a very unladylike noise. 

His eyebrows raised curiously as he looked up at you with a smug smile.

Your cheeks flared and to distract yourself you kicked his thigh with your now bare feet. 

"I thought you said you were going to carry me." 

"As you wish," he agreed smoothly before bending down to offer you his back.

As your arms wrapped around his neck you couldn’t help but notice how amazing he smelled. 

You inhaled deeply to try and calm your racing heart. 

Jason glanced sideways at you before asking, "Are you comfortable?"

"Never better," you managed to say before resting your face against his back. 

His very muscular back you might add. 

The two of you walked in silence, enjoying each other's company.

However, it occurred to you that this might be the only chance to be completely alone with him and openly express yourself.

You couldn't deny your heart fluttered at the thought.

"Jason?" you called, causing him to glance at you.

"Yes?"

"I've never met anyone like you..." you hesitated trying to work up the courage to speak the truth. 

You'd barely known him a week and you were sure this went against everything in the contract. 

Still, you figured you owed him honesty.

"and it's just...we've only known each other for a short period and I don't think I'm being completely fair to you if I don't say this."

"What is it, sweetheart?" Jason asked in confusion.

"I like you," you admitted quietly, praying that he wouldn't drop you and run away, "and I know it goes against your contract and I can pay you an extra fee if that's true... well I might have to go to the bank and..." 

But before you could say anything else Jason gently placed you on the ground dropping your shoes to the side.

He then moved so that you stood in front of him. 

"Sweetheart, please relax," Jason whispered, looking you straight in the eye. "I like you too." 

Your breath caught in your chest as he continued.

"And screw the contract."

He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. 

You blinked twice as your brain took a second to process what he just said.  As his kiss became more insistent you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to deepen it.

"I swear to the gods I will burn that piece of paper, just keep kissing me like that" Jason breathed once the kiss broke apart.

"I like the sound of that," you agreed with a laugh pulling him back down. 

This time when Jason kissed you, he didn't pull away, instead he ran his hands up and down your dress as he explored your mouth. 

When the need for air came, he reluctantly moved back, keeping one of his hands resting on your waist as you looked into his eyes.

"I like when your hair is down," he murmured before pulling out the pins that held your hair in place. 

He ran his fingers through the strands as they fell, framing your face. 

"And this color," he said, moving his hands to grasp the fabric resting against your butt pulling you closer to him. "You picked this just for me sweetheart." 

You laughed as he kissed your neck lightly.

"Maybe," you said as he added another kiss to the skin of your neck.

"Oh trust me," he said, "I know it was for me." 

You giggled again as his teeth nipped at your skin and he pulled away to look at you. 

"I probably shouldn't ravish you too much," he said, smiling brightly down at you, "we have a party to catch after all." 

"That we do," you answered as you moved to get on his back. 

Jason smirked.

"I think I can do better than a piggyback ride," he said, motioning you towards him. 

You shook your head as you moved toward him 

"Is this necessary?" you asked teasingly when he bent down to pick you up bridal style.

"Nope," he replied simply before sweeping you off your feet, "but it sure is fun." 

You laughed as you buried your face against his neck.

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[sariahsue]

Wherefore Art Thou My(stery) Lady

When a failed attempt to let Chat Noir down easy ends with Ladybug learning his name, she does what any lovesick teenager would do: teases him mercilessly. Ch 1 Ch 2

Chapter Three

Adrien didn't remember falling asleep, but he jumped awake with a jolt, diving for his phone, before realizing with dismay that he'd forgotten to plug it in and it had died overnight. Had he imagined the whole thing? Had Ladybug really texted him and told him she loved him, or had he made that all up?

He fumbled for the plug, begged the startup screen to load faster, and frantically plunged into his messages. There was the final message she sent, as real in the morning as it had been the night before.

My Lady – And for the record, I love you too.

He read it over and over again. She loved him. She'd said so. He hadn't made it up! Ladybug LOVED him! LADYBUG loved him! Ladybug loved HIM! 

And she knew who he was! And she'd actually said yes to him when he asked her out! 

“I can tell from your face that you're not done being lovesick yet.”

“Nope,” Adrien said, staring at the message. He was stretched out on his stomach across the bed, chin propped up in one hand, dopey smile on his face. “This is my permanent state of being now. Get used to it.”

“Are you going to get me some breakfast?”

“No.”

Plagg left him, making gagging sounds the whole way to the cheese stash. 

Nathalie came in to get him for school a short time later, only to find Adrien still fully dressed in yesterday's clothes (not that she realized it) and looking happier than he’d ever been before. In his entire life. 

“Did something good happen?” she asked, hand resting on the doorknob. Her body and her attention were both already halfway out the door.

“Just got a really nice text,” he said, jumping off the bed. “I'll be ready in a moment.”

---

Adrien texted Ladybug several times while he was getting ready and riding to school. No responses. At first, he wondered if she was sleeping in. She had obviously been up just as late as he had, or even later. But when there were only ten minutes left before class started, he began to worry. Had she thought about what she'd said and decided to take it back? Was the prospect of dating her partner just too weird?

“Maybe her phone died,” he muttered to himself as he walked into the building. That was entirely plausible, considering what had happened to his phone. It was cool against his palm compared to the otherwise warm morning. It vibrated suddenly. A new text message.

My Lady – Urrgh. Why do mornings have to happen so early? Adrien – Have you been sleeping this whole time? You're going to be late! My Lady – Why are you so happy in the morning? It's terrible. Mornings are terrible. Why do I stay up so late? Adrien – Because you love spending time with me. Adrien – And thanks for the clue! My Lady – What? Adrien – Not a morning person. I should have guessed that already. I’m going to check the list of tardy students today. My Lady – I’m not going to be on it. So ha.

Who did he know that liked to sleep in? A plan to skip first period to watch the front doors for the late students popped into his mind, but he knew he'd get a call home and quickly scratched it out. 

She was someone from school, who he was probably friends with since she’d had his number, and hated mornings. What else could he piece together about her? He knew her physical description, and that she couldn't be in his class. He had the numbers of all of his classmates, and most of them had already been akumatized anyway. 

The most likely candidates were the other classes in his year, since Ladybug looked to be around his age. He'd start his search there, and then move to the other grades. It shouldn't be too difficult.

He walked all the way to his first class without another text from her. Nino was there, smiling at him smugly. 

“What happened?” Adrien asked him. 

“I got a text from a mutual friend of ours,” he said. “Just a few minutes ago.”

“Who?”

“I'm not allowed to say.” 

Adrien's stomach flipped. Ladybug had talked to Nino? What had she told him?

“She said she'd finally confessed to you. Anonymously.” He put extra emphasis on the last word, and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe she’d do something so crazy.

“Yeah, I got a text like that,” Adrien said, sliding into his seat and trying not to act too excited about it. It had been anonymous, after all. There was no easy way to explain to Nino he already knew it was from the love of his life. “Did she say anything else?”

“Just that I'm not allowed to give you hints. Is she really making you guess who she is?”

“Yeah. I have an idea of where to look.” The yearbook. Easy. If she had last year’s, he knew she would have to be in it.

Nino shot a look up at the table in front of them and looked quickly back. Alya smiled at him and turned around to the front. 

Ms. Bustier pulled open the classroom door just then. “Good morning!” she said, ever cheerful. The class collectively huffed out a quiet “hello” except for Adrien, who instead smiled broadly and waved. Sometimes he felt like the only awake one in their first period classes. Maybe not being a morning person wasn't such a good hint after all. Most of the class was trying to cover their yawns.

“Where's Marinette?” Ms. Bustier asked, counting her students. “Is she late again?”

“I'm here!” Marinette said as she dove through the door. “Sorry. Slept in.”

“Oh yeah? Why?” Alya called, in a tone that clearly said she already knew the answer. Marinette went pink but didn't duck her head. Instead she marched up to her seat, and said, “Good morning, Adrien” without a single stutter as she sat down. He waved to her too, then pretended to focus on the lesson. He was really just staring at the stack of books on the teacher’s desk, not taking in any of the words. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. When Ms. Bustier turned her back on them to write on the board, he pulled his phone out to read the message. 

My Lady – Figure me out yet? Adrien – No, but I know where to start.

He felt bad. He didn't usually text in class, but this morning, he wasn't the only one. No sooner had he pocketed his phone than Marinette's notification alert went off, informing the whole class that someone had sent her a message. Ms. Bustier whipped around.

“Sorry!” Marinette said. “Sorry! I forgot to put it on silent.”

“Don't let me see it out again.”

“Good thing Bustier is so nice, girl,” he overheard Alya whispering to Marinette a few seconds later. Mendeleiev would have made you read that message out loud. Wouldn't that have been terrible?”

Marinette squeaked, and Alya laughed. 

Adrien barely heard them.

---

It was Wednesday night, and there wasn’t a patrol scheduled, but Adrien was willing to risk wasting his free time for a chance to see his Lady. Even if he didn’t run into her - and there was no reason why he would - it was nice to be out and seen by people. It gave the citizens of Paris a sense of security, a feeling that they were being watched over. (That was what he told Plagg when the kwami had griped at him for waking him up from his nap - oh, and also for using his powers for selfish reasons. Plagg had quit complaining when Adrien offered him double cheese for dinner.)

Chat Noir stopped at the Montparnasse Tower and looked over the city. It was just after dusk. Lights were twinkling on all around him, and from where he was, he could see the sun slipping over the distant horizon.

His cat ears twitched. Soft footsteps landed behind him, about 10 meters away. They crept forward three steps, stopped for a few seconds, then started up again, and he smiled. Ladybug was trying to sneak up again. His heart beat faster, but he pretended he hadn't noticed. 

He debated as she tiptoed closer, trying to decide if he'd turn around unexpectedly and scare her, but he held himself back. She knew who he was this time. There was no telling what she would do. 

Gentle hands reached around his head and covered his eyes. “Guess who,” she said, her breath so close it tickled his ear. Involuntarily, he leaned backward into her. 

“Probably Ladybug,” he said. She was warm and solid, able to hold him up even though he was putting what felt like more than half of his weight on her. She still had his eyes covered.

“I didn't surprise you at all, did I?”

“Sorry.” 

She lifted one hand away to tug on his cat ear, then slipped both hands around his waist, before she suddenly pulled away, leaving him unbalanced, literally and figuratively. 

“I forgot! I should probably explain,” she said quickly. “So last night, I figured out who you are, and I... like you. But I can't tell you who I am. We should probably not date as superheroes either. That's what I should have said first.” She wrung her hands in front of her. The light from the sunset reflected off of her face and made it glow slightly orange, clashing with her suit. 

“What about what you said in the text messages?” he asked, confused and more than a little hurt. From the sound of it, she was reconsidering everything.

“What text message?” She said it so sincerely, eyes wide with innocence, mouth set in a neutral line. She was perfectly non-responsive. Too perfectly. 

“The– the messages you sent me last night and this morning.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked. “I know who you are, but that doesn't mean that I automatically know your phone number.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. And that’s when it clicked. She was doing this on purpose. 

“Oh.” He fixed a frown over his face, which was difficult through the relief that he felt. “I just started talking to someone over text last night. I thought she was you.”

“That's unfortunate. I hope you didn't give away anything important.”

“I... I maybe mentioned that I'm Chat Noir.”

Her surprised reaction was too rehearsed to have been believable, even if he hadn't been expecting it. “You did?! Oh no! What if she tells someone!”

“It's okay, it's okay! Really! I can fix it!”

“How on earth are you going to fix this, Chat? You just admitted it to a complete stranger, and now they could tell anyone!”

“I'll just tell her tomorrow that I'm really Hawk Moth, and then she'll just think I'm crazy.” 

Her actual surprised reaction was very different from the fake one. She didn't shout, and her eyes didn't go wide. Instead, her face scrunched together as she thought about the new information. 

“You're not buying this at all, are you?” she asked.

“You looove me!” he said, drawing toward her. 

“I thought I was giving you a heart attack, and you were just playing along.”

“You’re in looove with me! Say it!” He wrapped his arms around her, and she didn't pull away. SHE DIDN'T PULL AWAY.

“I’m in love with you,” she replied, and the force of hearing her say it in person punched through him. Her slender arms wrapped around his waist again, hugging him back just as fiercely. 

He'd been so lucky lately that he decided to push it just a little further and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. She only hugged him tighter. 

“Once I figured out that you were, well, you, I couldn't believe how obvious it was. You two look so much alike!”

“I thought you said we'd been in the same place at the same time before.” 

“Volpina, but that had been an illusion,” she listed. “Simon Says, though I realized I hadn't actually seen you two together that day after all. The only one I'm still confused about is Gorizilla. How did you pull that off?”

“I had a helmet on hand that Marinette had given me,” he said. “I just gave it to someone who was dressed similarly. That's all.”

“So you could come and help me,” she said. “Smart.”

They stayed wrapped around each other until the sun was almost completely gone. Lights illuminated the darkening streets below them. 

Chat Noir was first to break the silence. “So you know Nino.”

“Here's another hint,” she mumbled into his shoulder. Even through his tough leather suit, he could feel the soft kiss that she placed there. His head started to spin. “I've known Nino for longer than you have.”

“No offense, but that's a terrible hint.” She kissed along his collarbone and he completely lost his train of thought. 

“That hint is terrible because?” she prompted.

“Uh.” There’d been a very good reason. He was sure of it. It was only when she’d rested her chin on his shoulder that he was able to have a coherent thought again and figure it out. “Almost everyone in school has known Nino longer than me.”

“I know him well, not just know about him.” She pulled away so she could frown at him properly. “Don't insult a perfectly good hint.”

“You'll need to give me a better one then.”

“Maybe later.”

“Come on!”

“Why don't you try asking me things?” She put her face back into his shoulder, her hands wandering up and down his back. 

The feeling of holding her was nice, but the feeling of being held by her was exquisite. 

“What did you tell him? He said you texted him this morning.”

“That's not much of a clue,” she said. “I don't know how that's going to help you.”

Truthfully, he was just curious. Nino hadn't given him much of an answer. 

“I told him, and my bestie, as close to the truth as I could. That I'd texted a confession to you, then remembered afterward that we hadn't actually exchanged numbers. I got it from one of our mutual friends.”

“When? Why?” 

“Oh, one of many failed attempts to ask you out ages ago. Super embarrassing.”

One of many? How many? “Do I get to hear that story?”

“Not today!”

“Why tell our friends, though? Nino taunted me about it all day.”

“Oh, good.” She peeked up at him and smiled. “I just thought it would be an easy way to explain later.”

“Explain what?”

She pecked his jaw. “Why I'm suddenly kissing you in public.”

The combined force of her words and her lips against his skin left him dizzy and clinging to her for support. Kissing, and kissing in public, were part of a reality that he fully supported living in. 

“Can I have another hint now, please?” His voice sounded raspy, and he tried to clear his throat.

“Hmm... I live close to you.”

“That's another terrible one.”

“No, it's not! These are all good hints!”

“We're in the same school district,” he said. “Of course we live close to each other. I deserve a better hint.”

Ladybug pulled back and pouted at him, then she stepped away. The vacuum she left behind was cold. “Civilian me has blue eyes.”

“Really? That's it?”

“There's less than eighty years' difference in our ages.”

“Now you're just being mean.”

“I eat food at least once this week.”

“Fine! I'll figure it out without any more hints!” 

“Okay, here's one that probably won't help you either.”

Chat Noir sighed, and she stepped up close to him again, though not as closely as he would have liked. There was still a few inches of space in between them. 

“I've had a gigantic crush on you for a long, long time. I probably wasn't subtle about it, but I don't think you noticed.” Her emphasis on “probably” made it sound more like “definitely.” He was a celebrity, though. He filtered out those types of signals from people daily to keep his sanity.

“If I didn't notice,” he said, “how is that a good hint? I think you should give me one last hint to make up for my shameful inattention to you.” 

Their faces were drifting closer together. He was acutely aware of when it started. She took another step toward him, looking like she wanted to say something more, but when her mouth opened to speak, he glanced away from her eyes and down at her lips. She took the hint and moved in even closer. He hesitated for only a second before lowering his face down to hers, slowly, slowly, until...

“Nope,” Ladybug said, bopping a finger on his nose and breaking the spell. “There's no way you're tricking me into kissing you before you figure it out.”

“You never said that was part of the deal!”

“I'm saying it now. Haha!”

“I was right. You are just being mean.”

“It's for your own good. It'll motivate you to find me faster.”

“Oh,” he said. “I'm very motivated.”

She giggled, then stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind already.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from a true temptress like you.” He tilted his head, ready to kiss her back this time.

She put a finger on his lips to stop him. “You can't kiss me,” a kiss on his other cheek, “but I can kiss you,” and another on his nose. 

His lips felt hot where she pressed on them, and when he tried to kiss her fingertip, she pulled away fast, like she’d been burned. 

“Not allowed, Kitten.”

“That shouldn’t count. It was barely a kiss.”

“Do you want to try again?” she asked, smiling widely. “Or should I just go home?” 

“You’re having too much fun with this.” He held his arms stiffly at his sides to signal that he was willing to behave himself. (He had no intention of keeping his hands to himself, though.)

She reached up, lifting herself on her tiptoes to reach his forehead and left a small peck there. “And having fun while kissing you is bad because…?”

“Teasing me is.”

“My poor Chaton,” she crooned. She left the lightest hint of a kiss on his neck, right above the collar of his suit, before dropping back to his shoulder. “Maybe I should just stop?” 

His response was a garbled choke. No, he wanted to say. Never. But he couldn’t force the words out. Not when she was standing so close to him, mouth level with his, mischievous eyes pinning him in place. 

She reached for his hand - he hadn’t even thought to move it yet, he realized vaguely - and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “See you around?”

Chat Noir collapsed into a puddle as soon as she was gone.

Ch 4

---

Author note: I forgot to update last week, sorry! But you’re getting two this weekend to make up for it!

Tag list: @eclipsesmoonshine14, @alittlewolf2

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ladynoir #kisses #yup there's kissing now #fanfiction

[v1olentdelights]

Dandelion Wishes

Conrad Fisher x sister!reader Trigger warning: the reader is referred to as bug in a sibling affectionate way? also food is mentioned a few times, and the reader is sick, but nothing descriptive. Summary: On a particular fall Monday, you are reminded that all your dandelion wishes were well spent. a/n: idk if this is good or not. I have it as a college student because I am a college student... there will probably be more pieces within a college setting. Also, I gave my sister the nickname of bug so I put it in here lol.

When choosing what college to attend you tried not to think about your brothers, both of which were in college now. Not only your mother and brothers, but also your Laurel, Belly, and Steven encouraged you to apply anywhere and everywhere. So that is what you did, you applied to as many colleges as you could. But when you got the results, you were hesitant about your first choice, Stanford. You didn’t want to seemingly follow in your eldest brother’s footsteps, but that was the college that seemed to suit you best. After careful consideration, you were officially accepted to Stanford.

When fall came you packed up half your life in boxes, it was a weird sight to see. Your brother Jeremiah had demanded you let him go through your clothes with you and then later go shopping with you. He was sure you would end up wearing pajamas all year long and he refused to accept that. Though it turned into him making fun of your clothing and putting on some definitely too small shirts. It was moments like these that made you regret all those dandelion wishes to grow up quicker. 

You quickly realized how serious this was, hearing that your freshman year at college would be difficult is something completely different than actually living it. Jeremiah and Conrad constantly fussed over you and how you were doing. For Jere, that meant constant texts and calls throughout the week, he also sent you care packages that either contained snacks, sweatshirts, socks, and other little bits and bobs. For Conrad, that meant checking in with you via text after every day and getting dinner every Monday evening. 

This beautiful fall Monday you found yourself struggling to stay awake in your 9am class. As the day progressed it only got worse, your body was aching more than you thought possible and you were sure there was a marching band smashing around in your head. If your luck wasn’t already bad enough, in your final class of the day (ending at 4:30) you had a pop quiz on the chapter reading that was due yesterday evening. As you were walking back to your dorm it started to drizzle, though you thought nothing of it as it was a usual occurrence. What you weren’t expecting was for it to pour, the rain helped mask your tears. 

Drenched by the time you reached your dorm, you found yourself taking as much pain reliever as you could and slipping into pajamas before settling down at your desk to complete the overflow of assignments.

A while later a knock broke you out of your trance, pulling open the door you were rather surprised to see Conrad with a small smile on his face. You had forgotten about the weekly Monday dinner. But it was wiped from his face as he took in your disheveled appearance, he slipped into your room as you began protesting. After surveying the room he turned to you with a facial expression that was walking the fine line of understanding and pity. “I am going to go make you some soup.” Finding his way to your cupboard he pulled out a can of chicken noodle soup and a bowl and found his way out of your room with ease. You just sat back at your desk and began typing away before the thought of sleep could even cross your mind. 

“Here, I brought you some gatorade too. I don’t know how much water you have been drinking.” Turning to him you saw your mother for a second, sometimes when he was concerned he had the same face your mom makes. 

“Connie, I can't. I have midterms coming up and I have already missed homework from yesterday. You understand.” And you were right, he did understand, but he also knew what it could do to you if you didn’t take a break. 

“30 minutes, bug, just to eat and take a quick power nap.” You huffed but knew that retaliating would only result in him physically forcing you into bed, so you started to shuffle some papers to the side. Conrad took over as he set down your soup. The second you put the spoon in your mouth you knew you were done for. You were too consumed by the newfound warmth that your food provided you to notice Conrad putting your stuff in your backpack and stuffing it in your closet behind your things, so you couldn’t find it.

He pulled up your roommates desk chair to sit next to you and talk about his day. He told you all about his advanced statistics class and how he thankfully made it to the bus before it began downpouring. At that you made a mention that you had got caught in the rain and that it probably added to your foul mood. He just rubbed your arm for a moment with a sad smile on his face.

It was no secret that you were struggling. He had heard from some of his friends that they had seen you in some of the libraries at odd hours of the night. When you finished your soup he took the bowl and set it in your sink while you managed to pull yourself in bed. 

“Can you read to me Connie?” He thought you sounded like a little kid again. It was moments like these that made him regret all those dandelion wishes to have you grow up quicker. 

“Of course, bug.” He pulled up your desk chair towards your bed and pulled the book off your bedside. It was a book that your mom used to read to you. You had your comforter pulled up to your chin, holding a brown bear stuffed animal with bright blue eyes that Jeremiah had surely gotten you. 

He had read for about 5 minutes before you were fully knocked out. After quietly moving away, Conrad pulled out your school bag and began sorting out your homework into classes and what was due when. He made some flash cards for your science class in hopes that it would help you with memorization. On top of all that he tried to work on some things that weren’t big assignments, of course on another piece of paper so you could look at it and attempt it yourself. 

—

You had surely slept more than 20 minutes, it was now dark outside and your heater had turned on. Looking around the room in your state must have been a sight to see, the comforter was still pulled up to your chin, your cheeks were reddened and had marks on them and you could barely see your because your eyes felt glued shut. But you could spot the very familiar figure sitting at your desk. 

“Connie?” Your voice broke as you called out to him quietly. You were instantly glad that your roommate decided to stay out for the night. On your bedside there was a glass of water and some motrin for you to take, you sat up as you did so. 

“Bug?” He sounded just as tired when he lifted his head from the desk. Looking back at you with bleary eyes, standing up from his spot he came over to you and put the back of his hand to your forehead, just like your mom.

“You still feel warm. Did you take the motrin?” You simply nodded your head. Quickly you wrapped your arms around his stomach and pulled him in close for a hug. It took him by surprise, but after a moment he reciprocated while softly running a hand through your hair. 

“Thank you for taking care of me.” it came out as barely a whisper. 

It was times like these you were reminded that your dandelion wishes were spent well. Having wished that your brothers would always be there for you was the best wish of all, one you still made to this day. 

—

By the end of the week you were feeling better physically and mentally when you saw that you had passed the midterm you had been worried about all week. By Friday you felt like you could finally breathe, so when your mother asked that you and your brother come home for the weekend, you could easily say yes.

Almost as soon as you stepped out of the car you were being picked up, eliciting a squeal. Jeremiah had wrapped you up tight before spinning you in a death grip of a hug. 

“I’ve missed you kid! I think you've even grown a bit” As he set you down he pressed a kiss to your head. You swat him away as he comes in to pinch your cheeks. Though you were still a bit dizzy, you spotted your mom sitting next to Laurel on the porch, you hadn’t expected the Conklin's to be here. But you were swept up into another hug by Steven who ruffled your hair and said something about being proud of you. Belly was right beside her mom with a big smile and a big bouquet of flowers.

“Welcome back!”

Stepping up onto the porch both Laurel and your mom stood up with bright smiles, as soon as you were close enough, both of them pulled you into a hug. 

“We are so proud of you, sweetheart.” Laurel said as she rubbed her hand up and down your back. You mom kept pressing kisses to your hairline, you could feel the tears slipping that she tried to hold back. 

“My beautiful beautiful girl, you look so much older now!” her smile was as bright as the sun. Laurel patted your back lightly. 

“Let’s get you inside and fill you up, I made your favorite.” Everyone piled into the house and as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, you caught a whiff of what you assumed to be your favorite dessert as well.

It was times like these that you are reminded that all your dandelion wishes were well spent.

#grace writes #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty x reader #tsitp x reader #tsitp fanfic #conrad fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher x reader #tsitp x you #summer fanfics #x reader #conrad fisher x sister!reader #x sister reader #x female reader #jeremiah fisher x sister!reader #susannah fisher #belly conklin #steven conklin #college fic #comort #brotherly love #please do well!

[seventeenpins]

west

prologue

pairing: Joel Miller x nb!character

word count: 2.7k

genre: period western/horror

summary: Dakota Territory, 1879. Joel Miller, a widower, lives on the outskirts of Deadwood with his brother and daughter. After travelling north from Texas two years earlier, they've put down roots in the community. Tommy came for the gold rush, and Joel came to keep an eye on Tommy. The end of the world arrives piece by piece, and then all at once.

warnings: glaring historical inaccuracies, canon typical violence, allusions to a suicide attempt, essentially just the opening of the show/game but set in 1879 with some bits adjusted, the horrors of being a person in the 1800s, nb love interest is essentially a reader self-insert but is named (tho won't appear till the next chapter), it will be a slowwwww burn.

a/n: Ok, a funny thing that didn't come up in my research till I was ninety percent thru the outline and halfway thru the chapter but had independently decided on 1879 as the setting -- Deadwood actually burned down on September 26, 1879. Figured it was serendipitous. Happy Birthday, Joel! 🫠

The day the world ended, the sun rose bright across the valley. Autumn was just starting to emerge and dust motes appeared suspended in the bright sunbeams, forested wilderness surrounding the town of Deadwood. The leaves weren't changed, not fully, but here and there you could find a red tree amongst the green ones, and you knew they'd follow soon.

Joel was exhausted. His head ached. His bones ached. He could already feel the stiffness in his muscles from yesterday's work, and today would be no better.

The first few cries of the rooster hadn't done so much as stir him, but now as morning truly broke, he could smell mouth-watering aromas wafting up from below, heard the bustling in his kitchen and his belly rumbled, waking him up right quick.

He scrunched his face up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and went over to the basin to splash cool water on his face. He stared at his reflection in his glass. Another year older. Another strand of silver in his hair. Thirty six. He'd made it to thirty six.

He pulled a shirt from his drawer and frowned. It was soft, cotton, and one of his favorites, but he was sure this one was torn at the shoulder, left to waste away in the oft forgotten mending basket. He shook it out and peered at it–sure enough, it had been torn, but now it was mended with fine, careful stitches.

Sarah. It must've been.

That girl was busy herself, but it warmed him, that she'd taken the time to mend her old pa's shirts without him ever having to ask.

He dresses quickly, tucking in his mended shirt, buttoning his trousers, adjusting his suspenders. He wasn't a vain man, but he takes pride in his work, and his mama always told him "It ain't about vanity, Joel. You take yourself and your appearance serious, others will too."

He grew up with little, but his mama was an accomplished seamstress. Her mending was impeccable, and any time she found a discarded bit of fabric, she'd bring it back to life and make it twice as pretty as she found it. Joel reckoned she was the best dressed woman in all of Texas. She collected issues of Good Housekeeping and Harper's, taking account of all the latest fashions. She built corsets and cages and all the ladies would flock to her to do them up just as pretty.

Joel combed back his hair. Stared in the mirror for just a moment longer, lost in his memories. Nodded, and stepped downstairs.

"Pa!" Sarah grinned at him as he entered the kitchen, "Lookin' mighty fine this morning."

She pulled him in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you, baby girl," he grinned back, "You makin' us breakfast?"

"Yep!" She nods, and hands him a plate. Drop biscuits, a little burnt, swimming in gravy, a cup of wild berries on the side, and a hot cup of coffee.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the spiraling tendrils of coffee vapour and let out a delighted hum. "You spoil me, kiddo."

"'Course," she nodded, and took a big bite of her own biscuit.

"Uncle Tommy home?" Joel asked, and Sarah shook her head, a couple of biscuit crumbs scattering around her, "Nah, he went out early today. Said he wanted to get done with his work early so he can celebrate your birthday."

Joel raised an eyebrow. "Celebrate my birthday?" he scoffs, "Stop by the saloon or lose all his money at cards and still make it on time to dinner is more like it."

He took one last gulp of his coffee and placed the mug down.

"We'll have a nice night," Sarah assured him, "An' I told Uncle Tommy he best be here in time for supper or else. And I'm makin' you a cake."

"Okay, baby. You'd best be off to school, now. I'll get these dishes taken care of."

"You sure?" She asked.

"Positive."

Sarah nodded, pulled off her apron, tossed a few of her favorite books in her satchel and tore out the door.

Joel went off for his work. Only two years they'd been in the Black Hills, Joel, Sarah and Tommy, but they'd made a nice little home. They came up after Sarah's mama passed, and Tommy heard about the gold rush. He insisted it was all because of the rush he wanted to come, but Sarah always suspected he came because he knew Joel would follow, and her pa needed a change of scenery. He'd almost faded into a ghost himself, sitting round their empty old house, nearly lost in memories. Grief had a way of consuming him.

So they'd traveled North, left Texas behind for good, and made a new life for themselves.

The schoolhouse had been around since before the Millers arrived in Deadwood, but there hadn't been a teacher till Spring of this year. Joel was glad Sarah finally had a chance for a proper education. Smart as a whip, that one, and hungry for knowledge. He couldn't wait to see what she was gonna do.

There weren't a lot of kids, or even that many women in the community outside of the brothels, but the Millers had established themselves. Tommy was something of a wild card, getting into bar fights more often than Joel would prefer, but he'd never gotten on the wrong side of a quick draw, and he had enough charm he managed to get out of most of the trouble he found himself in. And Joel–Joel was reliable. Whether he was fixing someone's step, or making sure to haul that extra meat back after a hunt to ensure one of Sarah's friends would have enough to eat, he could be depended on.

The day the world ended, Joel saddled up Delphine, his dapple grey, and mounted her, tools packed neatly in her panniers. Today, he'd be working on repairs at the general store. They rode from their home at the outskirts towards town.

As he approached, he slowed to a walk. Something felt off, like there was a tension about to snap. But no one was bleeding, and some days on the frontier that felt like a high enough bar to clear.

Along Main Street, he could hear strained voices.

"The telegraphs stopped coming-" He heard one man say.

"Problem with the wire?" Another asked.

The first man shook his head. "Naw, had some of my guys inspect it. Everything should be workin'. It just- it ain't."

"How long's it been going on?"

"Been five days now. Never seen it like this before."

"Ain't seen any coaches for weeks now, too. It's like the route just stopped altogether. Don't know how to get word to my folks back east about the new baby if we've got no mail and no telegraphs."

The day the world ended, Joel made it home by sunset, just in time to find Sarah plating up their dinner.

"Good day?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, got lots done. Next time you go by the general store, you'll see a door that swings smoothly on its hinges and brand new windowpanes."

"That's great, Pa!" she smiled. It warmed her to see his pride in his work.

"Uncle Tommy home yet?" Joel asked.

"No," Sarah frowned, "Thought he'd be back a couple hours ago, too. Guess you're right."

"Reckon he's lost track of time. Though- Huh, I didn't see him at the saloon when I rode by."

"There's always the cathouse?" Sarah suggested, and Joel snorted and shook his head. It wasn't an impossibility.

"Well-," Sarah paused, "There'll be cake waiting for him, but at least have your supper before it gets cold."

"Thank you baby," Joel smiled, took his plate from her, and dug in.

The night felt heavy, something in the atmosphere pressing like a weight through the world. All the food was eaten (besides a small plate left for Tommy) and the cake was cut, when the gunshots started outside.

Sarah started and Joel bolted upright, swinging around to grab the rifle by the door without a second thought.

"What's happening?" she asked.

Joel shook his head, crouching down by the window, pushing the curtains aside and peering through.

"I don't know, baby. Just stay calm, stay low. We're gonna be okay."

There was no one directly outside, but the gunshots continued, and the more Joel stared, the more he could see smoke rising from town.

"Looks like a fire," he told her, "Don't know what the shootin's about, though. And–" His eyes narrowed, heartbeat pounded. "We gotta block the door, baby, there's someone coming."

"Is it Uncle Tommy?" She asked, eyes wide and voice small.

"No, I don't think–" Joel had grabbed the heavy mahogany table by the legs and started tugging, but did a double take out the window. "Wait, you're right!"

It was Tommy, galloping towards their home on a mount Joel didn't recognize. Before Tommy was even a hundred feet away, Joel could hear him call out his name.

"Joel!" Tommy bellowed, "We gotta get outta here!"

Joel swung the door open and Tommy stumbled in.

"Somethin's happening," he wheezed, breaths coming quickly, panic etched across his face, running to the cabinet and filling his pack with ammo. A knife. Another revolver. "We gotta pack up anythin' we can't afford to lose. The town's on fire. There are these people, fuck, Joel, it's like they're the Devil's got 'em."

"Like the Devil's got 'em?" Joel asked, pulling two bags from pegs by the door. "The fuck you mean? You been on the shine again?" He turned to Sarah. "Start packin', baby. Clothes, medicine. Cash, too, you know the drawer?"

She nodded and ran upstairs, and Joel turned back to Tommy, fumbling through papers and photos, knowing he had no time for sentiment but couldn't bear to leave without trying to think of everything.

"They're fuckin' possessed," Tommy explained, "Won't listen to reason. It's a fuckin' mess in town. A few coaches came through today and there were men on it raving, saying some kinda devilry was coming through. They seemed crazy, so we just laughed. Didn't think much of it."

He shook his head and ran a palm down his face. That's when Joel noticed the blood on his sleeve.

"Jesus," Joel said, "You hurt?"

Tommy shook his head, confused, and then looked where Joel was looking and exhaled. "Naw," he exhaled, "That blood ain't mine."

"So what happened?"

"Well," Tommy continued, "An hour or so later we heard screaming. Turns out a couple folks who'd come in by train from down South a day or so ago, who weren't feelin' all that well, they'd been to the doctor and went crazy. Started twitchin'. Bitin'. Proper bitin' people. They got these things in their mouths, these weird fuckin' tendrils-"

Joel stared at him, a muscle in his jaw tensing.

"I know it sounds crazy, Joel, but something bad is fuckin' happening. Don't know what it is. All I know is people are tearing each other up. And we gotta get outta here."

Joel was silent a minute and then nodded, solemn.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "We're gonna get outta here."

"We are," Tommy agreed, "But we both know the only way out is through town, and it's a shit show right now."

"Fuck," Joel hissed and looked out the window again, "Looks like the whole town is on fire."

"It is," Tommy nodded, "But we can avoid Main Street. Go to the outside, and around to the thoroughfare."

"Fine." Then Joel called upstairs, "We gotta go, baby!"

Sarah re-emerged, two bags packed full. "I got clothes for both of us. Money. Few other things."

"Thank you, baby."

They saddled up their horses, Tommy on his stolen mare, Joel and Sarah on Delphine.

Joel hated this, hated that they had to pass through town to pass by Deadwood and across into the Black Hills, but they were at the edge of the gulch. No way to go but through.

Before they rode, Joel cupped the back of Sarah's head with one hand, closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He nearly didn't, worried her pa would be embarrassing her. But he did. For the rest of his life, he was always glad that he did.

As they rode through flames, they saw the foundations of the place they called home begin to crumble. It was chaos. It was worse than Joel ever could have imagined. The town was engulfed in madness, men eating one another toppled over onto the dusty ground. Smoke choked them and made their eyes water as they rode through with cloths pressed to their mouths, trying to avoid the worst of it. There were a few folks who had built barricades and stood beyond them, guns aimed, trying to take down the most violent of the possessed. It was horrifying, their friends, colleagues, and neighbors engaged in a fight to the death. It was wrong wrong wrong and by God it was the end of the world.

They saw the younger Adlers torn to pieces, and the elder running on all fours as she tried to rip apart someone else.

"Hold onto me, baby," Joel said, pulling her in in an attempt to shield her from the bodies. She'd already gotten a glimpse and couldn't help but stare, and she stared for a moment before she felt nauseous. Then, she screwed up her eyes and held on tight.

They saw Jimmy's place in flames. The baker's. The saloon. There were women running from the brothel, still rouged and bright as they aimed their guns at the monsters around them.

Through side paths and shortcuts, down alleyways and in the gaps between houses, they rode desperately through Deadwood. The buildings Joel had helped erect and the repairs he'd completed in the past few years had given him an intricate knowledge of the settlement. They rode fast and sure, evading the devils that clutched at the air, reaching for their ankles as they rode by.

Makeshift barricades had been put up all along the outskirts of town. Each way they turned, there was no way through. They rode back and forth, crisscrossing the streets as they tried their best to pull away from the writhing bodies in the dirt.

It wasn't till they passed the very last buildings down Main Street, right by the edge of town, that they slowed.

The sheriff lay dead, a bullet right between his eyes, bleeding out on the dusty street corner. A circuit rider loomed ahead of him on his mount, hands resting on his shotgun that, slung over his shoulder. Blood drenched his forearms, spattered against his coat, so soaked it shone visible even against the heavy wool. There was a fear in his eyes, a terror that unsettled them.

When he saw the Millers, he straightened and raised the weapon.

"Preacher, let us through," Tommy said, and the homilist darted his eyes between the men.

"Can't let anyone past," the man said, "This here's the reckoning. No one's gonna escape the inevitable."

Tommy raised his revolver. "I ain't askin' again. Let us through."

The preacher steadied his shaking hands and aimed his shotgun "But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up-"

It's hard to say who fired first.

In a split second, two gunshots rang out, fragmented echos of one another. The preacher fell. So did Joel and Sarah.

The bullet grazed through Joel's side, and he clutched at his abdomen, holding the wound.

"Joel-!" Tommy cried as he flung himself from his mount, the preacher dead and already forgotten.

Joel rolled over and crawled towards where Sarah lay. The bullet that had gone through Joel pierced her belly and she shook, blood spurting and pooling from the wound.

He tried to apply pressure, tried to slow the bleeding, but her screams and sobs stilled him.

"I'm sorry, baby," he cried, and she shook, eyes darting around, trying to focus and failing.

"Pa-," she croaked.

"It's okay, baby girl," he lied, "You're gonna be okay."

She exhaled in a final gurgling puff, blood spattering across her perfect face, and Joel howled.

She was gone, he knew it, but still he cradled her.

Tommy stroked her hair and wiped the blood off her cheek. Joel pressed his head to her chest and wept, horrible strangled heaves caught in each exhale.

The day the world ended, Joel's world ended, too.

They carried her body with them for miles, Joel holding her close even as he felt her begin to cool and stiffen. Time escaped them as they rode, and around sunrise, they found a creek with wildflowers blanketing the banks. A small herd of pronghorns leaped along the water.

Tommy dug a hole and Joel told her stories, rocking her back and forth in his arms. All the ones he could remember, that she loved so much when she was little. Told her to rest easy now, baby.

They lowered her into the ground, and Joel wept. Tommy assembled a small cairn at the head of her grave. Joel looked down at his mended shirt and realised it was ruined with blood. The last gift from his daughter, and he'd ruined it.

Joel embraced Tommy. Held his brother close and told him he loved him. Muttered something about needing a moment to himself and wandered off.

The day his world ended, Joel tried to follow her into the darkness. A gunshot rang out, echoing through the hills.

Tommy ran to the sound and found him, crumpled but very much alive. He held his big brother close, cloth pressed hard to his bleeding temple, brushing away his streaming tears as he cried himself, terrified to lose all of his remaining family in a single day.

The day the world ended, the last two Millers were covered in blood and filth and tears. All they had was each other, their horror and their fear.

#tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x nb!reader

[hearts-hunger]

sweet peach || sam kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes, you want special attention from Sam. He reminds you that all you have to do is ask.

Pairings: Sam Kiszka x Reader | Genres: fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort | Word Count: 3k | Chapter Warnings: none, I think?

A/N: This is, like, Hollow To The Touch's fluffier sister fic. Idk why Sam conjures these angsty stories in me, but I sure do like writing them! I hope you like it too! ♡

“Look! Here it comes.”

You pointed to the model train that wove its way through swaths of flowers and low-hanging palms, a delighted smile on your face as it passed you by and chugged up to the miniature bridge suspended overhead. You followed it until it came back down to steam through a scale-model town complete with shops and a train station. 

“You sure do like that train, don’t you?”

You looked behind you and grinned at your boyfriend. “How could you guess?”

He chuckled, watching with you as the train continued to another part of the greenhouse. Sam had surprised you yesterday with a weekend getaway trip to the Biltmore, and you’d been telling him excitedly about the model train exhibit in the greenhouse since you’d gotten in the car.

“Isn’t it gorgeous in here?” you asked, looking at a display of lovely pink and orange orchids. 

He hummed in agreement. “Hey,” he said, gesturing to the small sign in the display. “These are your special orchids, honey.”

You smiled, seeing that the sign read peach dendrobium orchid. Sam had called you “peach” since your first date where you’d worn a soft pink dress, and the nickname had stuck.

“They are my special orchids, aren’t they?” you said happily. You glanced at the camera that rested against his chest, wondering if he’d offer to take a picture of you with the orchids, but he gave the flowers one last look and headed on to look at a different display.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You knew it wasn’t fair, but you didn’t want to have to ask him to take your picture; you wanted him to do it because he wanted to do it.

Pushing the thought aside, you joined him at the model greenhouse.

“There’s us,” he said. He looked over your shoulder. “And I think your train’s coming back.”

You watched the little tunnel to your right until the train came through.

“That’s my dream job, I think,” you said.

He smiled. “What, model trains?”

“Yeah,” you said, following the train through the flowers to the next exhibit. “It would be so fun to build all this stuff and set the track up, don’t you think?”

“I think it would drive me crazy to set up all this little stuff,” he said, but he wasn’t unkind. “I’m glad you like it, though. We should get a model train for your Christmas village this year.”

You smiled up at him. “Could we?”

He shrugged. “Sure. You’ll just have to keep Josh from staging train robberies with all your little village people.”

You laughed and went to take his hand. Just as your fingers glanced his, though, he took his camera and snapped a few pictures of the greenhouse roof through a spray of palm fronds.

You swallowed another pang of hurt and put your hands in your dress pockets, following him as he continued down the brick path through the greenhouse that led out to the garden.

Sam wasn’t the most overtly lovey-dovey boyfriend, that much was just a fact. You’d known it going in, and you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t that big of a deal. Most of the time, it wasn’t — you knew that he loved you, and he showed you as much as he told you. He was patient and kind and gentle with you all the time. He remembered little things you told him, things even you’d forgotten you’d mentioned to him. He was forever finding little ways to serve you, from carrying your bags to getting you coffee to everything in between, and he was the Olympic world champion of writing little love notes and leaving them where you’d be sure to find them throughout the day. He loved you, and there was no way you could ever doubt it.

But, as far as public displays of affection went, they just weren’t his thing. He preferred not to kiss in public, and hand-holding was usually met with a sort of willing indifference. He didn’t really think to take pictures of you when you were out and about, and you always had a tough time getting him to dance with you at parties. You’d learned to be okay without those things; besides, when you were home and you gave him even the slightest bit of prompting, he’d shower you with kisses and affectionate touches and spontaneous dance parties until you thought your heart would break.

But every once in a while, when you wanted it when you weren’t at home and you wanted him to start it, it would hurt. You guessed today was one of those days.

You trailed behind him out in the garden, watching the butterflies drift from flower to flower. In the shade of the long, vine-covered pergola a few paces away, a couple giggled and took a selfie as he kissed her cheek.

“Hey, peach.”

You tore your gaze away from the couple, trying to ignore the jealousy gnawing at you. “Yes?”

Sam beckoned you over, and your heart jumped for a moment; you practically skipped to his side and waited for him to take your hand or put his arm around your shoulder or something.

He nodded to the huge, wine-colored tulip amid a few pink ones. 

“Can you hold that purple one closer to the pink ones?” he asked, hunkering down and getting his camera ready.

Your heart dropped to your shoes, again. “Oh. Uh, sure.” 

You did as he said, holding the flower just so in order for him to get the perfect picture. Photography had become a hobby of his lately, especially with his fancy new film camera, and you usually enjoyed indulging his desire to get a very specific shot. Today, though, you felt embarrassed to be standing awkwardly, holding a flower for your boyfriend who didn’t even care about you.

You grimaced. That last thought had been uncharitable, and you knew it wasn’t true. Still, you couldn’t ignore the bitterness and hurt that was welling inside you with an alarming quickness.

“Perfect,” he said, grinning up at you. “Thanks, peach.”

You managed a tight smile. “You’re welcome, honey.”

Sam tried to engage you in conversation as you meandered through the garden, but you couldn’t quite muster up any enthusiasm for talking.

“It’s a great day for strolling through a garden, huh?”

“Mmh.”

“I’m glad I’m spending this beautiful sunny day with you.”

“Right.”

“I think we should buy the Biltmore and have a baby for every bedroom, what do you think?”

“Okay.” You registered what he’d said a second too late. “Wait, what?”

He gave you a slightly worried smile, cocking his head at you as if looking at you from a different angle would reveal something.

“You okay, peach?” he asked gently.

You wilted, knowing you were being rude. “Yes. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening.”

“That’s alright, honey.” He held the waist-high gate open for you as you walked to another part of the grounds. “We can go back to the hotel for a power nap or something. Or go do that wine tasting thing in the village if you’re tired of just walking around.”

“I don’t care what we do,” you said, and you smiled to soften it. “Really. I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

He frowned. “But it’s your vacation.” He ducked under a low-hanging willow branch. “You’re supposed to be the one calling the shots.”

You sighed. If that was true, Sam would be smothering you in kisses and telling every person you walked by how much he loved you and how beautiful you were.

“I hear you sighing, peach,” he said. He unfolded his map of the grounds and tried to figure out where you were. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to twenty-questions it out of you?”

“Not twenty questions,” you said, embarrassed.

“No?” He peered over the map and through the winding shrub garden. “Glad to hear it. So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Sometimes I just like sighing.” You sighed again to prove your point.

He laughed. “Okay.” He put his map away and looked back at you.

“Would you like to go to the azalea garden or the Italian garden?” he asked. “Or somewhere else, keeping in mind that I am perfectly happy to go anywhere you want?”

You felt a sharp sting of guilt at how petulant you’d been acting. Sam didn’t deserve for you to be moody, especially not on a trip he’d planned for you, and certainly not when he’d never set the expectations you were upset with him for not meeting.

“I’d like to go to the Italian gardens,” you said meekly. “Please.”

He smiled and gave a grand, theatrical gesture to his left. “Right this way, my lady.”

You walked close to each other as you set a leisurely pace for the Italian garden, and you twisted your fingers together to keep from reaching out and taking his hand. You didn't think he wouldn’t mind if you did, but you didn't like to want things from him that he didn't want from you. You twisted the worn pearl ring he’d gotten you at an antique store forever ago around and around on your finger.

You came through the opening in the hedgerow to the long stretch of ponds lush with water lilies. Little statues were interspersed between the ponds, and you took your time wandering around to see the flowers and the koi fish that swam among their roots.

When you came near to the house, Sam stopped at a statue of a woman and a child dancing with flowers in their hair. The woman was nude from the waist up, one hand extended upwards in her dance, the other holding on to the child’s hand.

“It’s called ‘The Dancing Lesson’,” Sam told you. “Very ‘Flower Power’, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I’m sure your song is what the artist had in mind.”

He smiled, pleased he’d amused you with his joke. He raised his camera and took his time getting the picture he wanted.

“She’s beautiful,” he said, and your heart twisted with foolish jealousy. When he reached out to touch the statue, you turned and walked up the steps to the library terrace a few feet away.

“Peach, wait!”

You ignored him. You didn’t want to turn back and see him touching the statue and taking pictures of it and saying how beautiful it was. You didn’t want to feel jealous over a stupid statue, of all things.

“Peach, honey, hold on.”

Sam caught up to you and took your wrist in a gentle grip to make you stop. You felt a full-body shiver of delight at his touch that only made you feel worse.

“Let go,” you said, pulling out of his grip. He released you without protest.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you,” he said, thinking he’d upset you with his touch instead of his lack of it. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment. You started to twist your ring uncomfortably again.

“What’s going on, honey?” he asked. “Are you sick?”

You shook your head.

“Okay,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

Again, you shook your head. It seemed like he was having to do twenty-questions with you after all, but you hated to tell him what had gotten you so upset when it wasn’t really his fault.

He started to say something else, but a tour group came out of the double doors that led from the library out to the shaded terrace. He gently steered you out of their way and found a bench in the far corner, pulling you to sit with him.

“Let’s just sit here a minute and cool off, okay?” he said. 

You nodded. 

“And when you’re ready,” he said, “I’d really like for you to tell me what’s going on.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Peach,” he said, gentle. “I don’t lie to you, so I don’t want you to lie to me. Alright?”

You nodded, but you didn’t say anything. He put his hand over yours after a moment, and you wished it hadn’t been a crisis that had drawn him to hold your hand.

“I want to fix it, honey,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “I didn’t plan this trip so we could sit here and be upset with each other. Help me figure out how to get my sweet peach back to her usual chirpy self.”

You felt the sting of tears. “Your sweet peach?”

“You are, aren’t you?” He squeezed your hand. “Come on, my sweet peach. Tell me what’s bothering you so much.”

“I want you to hold my hand,” you said, almost in a whisper.

He held your hand tighter, the one he was already holding. “Okay. What else?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. You knew he deserved the truth, and he was being so patient with you; you looked up and met his eyes even though you wanted to run and hide.

“I want you to hold my hand in the garden,” you said, and your voice was wobbly. “When we walk together. I want you to hold my hand.”

He nodded after a moment. “Okay. I will. Have you... have you wanted me to this whole time?”

A tear rolled down your cheek, and before you could reach up and try to hide it, Sam had touched his fingers to your cheek and brushed it away.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said quietly. He tucked your hair behind your ear. “That makes me sad, peach. I wish you would have asked. You know I would have loved to hold your hand if you asked me to.”

“I know,” you said, and you hated yourself for how bitter you still felt. You raised his hand to your face; he splayed his fingers and cradled your cheek.

“So why didn’t you, honey?” he asked.

You met his eyes, desperate to make him understand.

 “I don’t want to make you do it if you don’t want to,” you said, the words spilling out of you now. “I always feel like I’m asking for things you don’t want to give, and then something like this happens and you say you’ll hold my hand and take pictures of me and whatever else I want, but isn’t it just because I asked you to do it and not because you want to do it?”

You stood, agitated and ashamed at your behavior. 

“I don’t ask because I don’t want to be needy and clingy, but...” You gave a helpless laugh and wrapped your arms around yourself. “I guess that ship has already sailed.”

He didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t bear the silence, and you walked over to the terrace railing and looked out over the mountains in the distance.

You heard him join you, and you let out a shaky breath when he brushed his thumb over the strap of your dress.

“I forgot to tell you how pretty you are in this dress,” he said. “I think you’re prettier than any of the flowers in the garden, peach.”

Your throat felt tight. “So why didn’t you take a picture of me?”

He sighed. “You know I’m not good at that kind of stuff, honey. It’s not that I don’t want to, it just... doesn’t occur to me. You have to ask.”

He tugged gently on a lock of your hair. “And I know you don’t want to have to ask. I understand that. But it doesn’t make you clingy to ask, and it doesn’t mean I don’t love you because I don’t think to do those things for you. I’m trying to be better about it, to be more... aware of it. But it’s not going to happen overnight, sweetheart.”

The guilt in his voice tore at you. You turned to face him.

“Do you have something you want to ask me?” he said, tender and sweet.

“Can you hold my hand?” you asked quietly.

A smile flickered across his face. “Of course I can.”

He took your hand in his and squeezed it gently. 

“Can I...” You wavered, even though he’d said you could ask. His smile was soft.

“Does my sweet peach want a... kiss?” he asked.

You blushed and gave a bashful nod.

“A kiss for my sweet peach, then,” he said, and gave you a gentle, chaste kiss. “See how easy it is? You don't ever have to worry that you're asking for something I won't give, honey. I promise.”

You leaned your head against his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t just ask, Sam. I'm sorry about... all of this. It’s not fair of me to expect you to read my mind.”

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “But I understand why you were upset. Thank you for apologizing.”

You looked up at him. “Will you forgive me?”

“Already done.” He kissed your temple. “I promise to pay better attention and try my best to initiate more. You’ll just have to take it easy on me, okay?”

You cherished the way his touch lingered. “Okay.”

You walked together, hand in hand, back to the greenhouse and around to the azalea garden. The shrubs were in full bloom in every shade of pink, purple, and white, and birds flitted to and fro as they sang.

“Sam, look!”

Your voice was hushed as you walked carefully, quietly over to a bird’s nest in a cradle of pink flowers.

“Look how pretty they are,” you said, looking over the fragile little eggs inside.

“Peach.”

You looked over your shoulder at his voice, a smile on your face, and heard the camera shutter before you saw he was taking a picture.

“Sam,” you chided, bashful even though you were happy he’d done it.

“It’s a beautiful picture, honey,” he said. “Stay just like that.”

You did as he said, and you felt a rush of eager butterflies when he lowered the camera after he’d taken another picture. The way he was looking at you spoke more than any words, and you twined your fingers with his as you came close to him again.

“Sam?”

“Hm?”

“Will you give me a kiss?”

He grinned and did as you said, quick and sweet and gentle. “I like it when you ask me for what you want, peach. I always love to give it to you.”

You brushed his soft hair behind his ear. “I love you very much, Sam.”

He smiled, sunshine-soft and full of tenderness.

 “My sweet peach,” he said gently. “I love you very much too.”

sam taglist: @lil-twilight-glow @dannythedog

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature @eearevee @madneedshelp @demonrat444 @josh-iamyour-mama

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf  @jakeydoesit  @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones  @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama @slutforsteve @starshine-wagner

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

#let me know what you think! <3 #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #maddie writes stuff!

[writerinloves-blog]

First chapter of my Kit Tanthalos x OFC. Enjoy!

For 150 moons, the passage of time within the castle walls marked the silent journey of Lyra Calloway. The magic that once shimmered in her veins had retreated, dissolving into the recesses of her memory, becoming as elusive as the tendrils of a half-remembered dream. In the daylight hours, Lyra was a composed lady's maid, her laughter ringing softly within the castle's halls. Yet, beneath her composed exterior, the echo of forgotten spells and lost incantations whispered in the corridors of her mind.

The soldier, Ballentine, was a consistent presence in her life, a stalwart guardian who not only saved her but also brought with him a sense of warmth and belonging. His visits, sprinkled across the years like stardust, were cherished moments of respite for Lyra. In the depths of his eyes, she saw reflections of the love her parents once showered upon her, a connection to a past that felt both distant and vivid, like the pages of a cherished storybook.

However, as time flowed like a river, Ballentine noticed the solitude that sometimes wrapped around Lyra like a shroud. A child surrounded by adults, her laughter occasionally rang out in the corridors, echoing with a longing for companionship. Sensing her need for a friend, he orchestrated a meeting that would alter the course of Lyra's life.

On that pivotal day, Ballentine led Lyra to another girl, a young soul who had also found sanctuary within the castle's embrace. A blonde-haired girl named Brunhilde, whose laughter bubbled like a spring, brought an effervescent energy into Lyra's world. She was a whirlwind of curiosity and enthusiasm, her eyes reflecting the same sense of wonder that Lyra had once possessed.

In the tapestry of fate, their friendship was woven with threads of shared secrets and endless giggles. Lyra, on the day they met, tried valiantly not to burst into laughter at the peculiar sound of Brunhilde's name. Yet, in that moment, something magical happened. The laughter that Lyra had held back for so long bubbled up, spilling into the air like musical notes, echoing the beginning of a friendship that would last a lifetime.

The sun cast a gentle morning glow through the castle windows, illuminating the cozy kitchen where the two friends sat, breaking their fast in the midst of their duties. The aroma of freshly baked muffins hung in the air, a testament to Brunhilde's culinary skills, which had become the heart and soul of the castle's kitchen.

Brunhilde, affectionately nicknamed Bruni by Lyra, was a lively whirlwind, her eyes alight with excitement as she chatted animatedly about the prince. "He is so dreamy, Lyra, you know," Bruni gushed, her words laced with starry-eyed admiration. "Yesterday, he told me thank you while I put some muffins on the table, and then later that night, he came down here, and we kissed, he is so perfect Ly." Her voice was filled with the kind of reverence usually reserved for celestial beings.

Lyra, ever the pragmatic soul, rolled her eyes playfully, a smile dancing at the corners of her lips. "Well, I would hope so," she replied, her tone teasing. "He is a prince, after all, and those are basic manners, and you let him kiss you, so..." Her fingers delicately plucked a muffin from the plate in front of her, savoring the warmth that still lingered within the freshly baked treat. "Your muffins are just so good," she added genuinely, her words punctuated by a contented sigh.

This compliment elicited a hearty laugh from Bruni, a sound that echoed with the joy of companionship. "Lyra, you're too kind," she said, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and happiness. "But really, you should see the way he looked at me. It was like... I don't know, like he saw me." Her eyes glittered with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Lyra, ever perceptive, observed her friend's expression, a fondness blooming within her heart. "Maybe he did see you, Bruni," she said gently, her tone soft. "You have a way of capturing people's attention, not just with your muffins, but with your spirit. It's... enchanting. He is lucky to have you, I hope he knows that." The word slipped from her lips before she could stop it, and she inwardly chided herself for the slip, hoping Bruni wouldn't notice the odd choice of words.

But Bruni, in her own spirited way, simply grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, if I'm enchanting, then you, Lyra Calloway, are positively magical," she declared, raising her muffin in a mock toast.

The head of the kitchen's sharp voice cut through the warm camaraderie like a dagger, reminding the girls of their responsibilities. With practiced efficiency, Bruni and Lyra hurriedly untangled themselves from the moment they shared, exchanging a quick but affectionate hug before parting ways. Bruni darted off to prepare the morning meal, her footsteps echoing with purpose in the bustling kitchen.

Lyra, ready to begin her temporary duties, had one foot out of the kitchen door when the head cook's voice reached her ears once more. "Oh! Lyra, I almost forgot, Ballentine is looking for you," the cook said, her tone softened by the warmth of their shared workspace. Gratitude painted Lyra's lips as she uttered a sweet "thank you" before setting off to find the soldier.

It didn't take long to locate Ballentine; he was often found in the castle's training ground, honing his skills with the determination of a seasoned warrior. Today was no exception. As Lyra approached, she observed the intense training session taking place between Ballentine and a fierce-looking girl named Jade. Lyra knew better than to interrupt; she had narrowly escaped a sword's edge the last time she inadvertently intervened in their training.

She settled a respectful distance away, content to watch until their spar came to a close. The clash of swords, the sound of metal meeting metal, reverberated through the training ground until finally, there was a pause, and the blades ceased their dance.

"You still favored one of your sides, but you are going to do great. You've worked so hard for this," Ballentine said, his voice a mixture of pride and encouragement, his eyes fixed on Jade. Gratitude glimmered in Jade's eyes as she replied, "Thank you, Ballentine," her tone laced with determination.

Seizing the moment, Lyra stepped forward with a warm smile, her presence heralded by the soft rustle of her skirts. "Hello, Jade," she greeted, her voice gentle, acknowledging the other girl's efforts. Jade's fierce expression softened into a smile, a rare sight that warmed Lyra's heart. "Morning, Ballentine," she added, acknowledging the soldier whose guidance had become a beacon of strength for them both. After this, they said their goodbyes.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the castle grounds as Lyra and Ballentine walked together. Lyra, her eyes alight with curiosity, finally couldn't contain her question any longer. "You wanted to speak to me?" she inquired, her voice a delicate melody beneath the vast expanse of the open sky.

"Yes, I do," Ballentine began, his tone soft but firm, radiating a sense of pride. "Everyone is very pleased with your work as a lady's maid. Every guest you've served has spoken highly of you, and that makes me very proud, of the young lady you are becoming." His words, like gentle waves, washed over Lyra, leaving her heart warmed by their sincerity. It was a stark contrast to the past, where praise had been scarce and often barbed.

A genuine smile curved Lyra's lips, a rare sight that spoke volumes. "Thank you," she replied, her voice soft-spoken, gratitude filling the gaps between her words. The affirmation, so earnestly given, felt like a soothing balm to her soul, healing wounds she hadn't realized were there.

Ballentine, sensing her vulnerability, continued, his voice unwavering. "And we... I think you are ready for a more important role. You've been chosen to be the lady's maid of the princess. This is..." He paused, searching for the right words to convey the magnitude of the honor.

"What?" Lyra interrupted, her voice escalating with disbelief. Her eyes widened, mirroring the astonishment in her voice. The prospect was beyond her wildest dreams, a surreal twist of fate she hadn't dared to imagine.

Ballentine, the epitome of calm in the storm of her emotions, raised his hand in a gesture meant to quell her sudden outburst. "This is an honor, Lyra," he assured her, his eyes warm with reassurance. "You were hand-picked for this."

"But... I thought that her royal highness already had a lady's maid," Lyra stammered, her nervousness palpable. Doubt crept into her voice, uncertainty clouding her eyes.

"Yes, but she is advanced in age," Ballentine explained patiently, his words measured and calm. "The queen thought that perhaps someone closer to her age would be better suited for the job." His explanation, though logical, did little to ease Lyra's apprehension.

"You know I am not good with new people..." Lyra confessed, her voice a quiet murmur, her vulnerability laid bare before him.

Ballentine's eyes softened with understanding. "Jade knows her," he said, offering a lifeline of familiarity in the sea of uncertainties.

"Really?" Lyra's eyes widened with a mix of hope and trepidation. Before Ballentine could say anything more, Lyra dashed off towards Jade, her heart pounding in her chest. The courtyard seemed to stretch endlessly before her as she ran, her breaths coming in short gasps.

With each hurried step, Lyra closed the distance between herself, Jade, and the answers she desperately sought. "Jade! Wait!" Lyra's voice, laced with urgency and hope, cut through the crisp castle air. At the sound, Jade, her footsteps momentarily stilled, turned around, her eyes widening in surprise as she waited for Lyra to catch up. Ballentine, ever the steadfast guardian, trailed close behind, his expression a mix of curiosity and quiet support.

"What happened?" Jade questioned once Lyra was in front of her, her tone a blend of concern and confusion, her eyes flickering between Lyra and the soldier behind her.

"We are friends, right?" Lyra began, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her. The question hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of anticipation.

"Of course, we are," Jade replied, her voice soothing, sensing the gravity of the moment. She shot a quick glance toward Ballentine, silently seeking confirmation of the seriousness of the situation.

"So, you'll tell me the truth," Lyra stated, her eyes unwavering as she locked onto Jade's. A pause hung between them, pregnant with the intensity of the unspoken question that followed. "What is the princess like?" she finished, her voice barely louder than a whisper, yet laden with a profound earnestness.

"Kit?" Jade asked in a confused voice, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. Lyra's confusion mirrored Jade's, unable to comprehend the casualness with which the princess was referred to.

"You call the princess by her given name?" Lyra questioned, her brows furrowing in bewilderment, her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Jade, her posture shifting slightly, held her head high, a subtle but unmistakable pride in her voice. "We are friends. We trained together almost every day."

Recognition flickered in Lyra's eyes, and a calm settled within her as the implications of Jade's words washed over her. "Oh... so she IS nice," Lyra breathed, her voice laced with relief. In that moment, the princess transformed from a distant, intimidating figure into a tangible, approachable person.

"Yes, indeed, she is... why?" Jade asked, curiosity knitting her brows together.

Lyra turned around, her gaze meeting Ballentine's, his eyes reflecting a deep sense of pride and assurance. A gentle smile curved her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken support he offered. With newfound confidence, she turned back to Jade. "Well," Lyra began, her voice filled with quiet certainty. "You are looking at Her Royal Highness's new lady's maid." The words hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of possibility and change.

"Oh! Lyra, that's great!" Jade exclaimed, her eyes alight with genuine happiness. She enveloped Lyra in a warm, spontaneous hug, the shared excitement between them binding their friendship even tighter. In that embrace, amidst the castle courtyard bathed in the golden hues of the fading sun, Lyra felt a surge of confidence and purpose.

"Just one more thing," Jade said, her tone suddenly serious as she gently released Lyra from the hug. Lyra, her eyes filled with both anticipation and confusion, nodded in response. "Yes?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a sweet smile.

"Be patient with her," Jade advised, her words hanging in the air like a quiet plea. With those cryptic words, Jade abruptly turned and began walking away, her steps quick and purposeful, leaving Lyra standing there, her mind swirling with questions and a sense of foreboding.

"What? What does that mean? Jade!" Lyra called after her, her voice a mix of confusion and frustration. But Jade, now a distant figure, merely glanced back, her laughter carried on the wind as she disappeared from view. Left alone, Lyra turned to seek answers from Ballentine, her trusted confidant.

"What does she mean by that?" Lyra inquired, her eyes searching Ballentine's for any hint, any clue to unravel the mystery that now clouded her path. But Ballentine, ever enigmatic, merely smiled at her, his expression a blend of reassurance and quiet understanding. He remained silent, leaving Lyra with nothing but his cryptic smile.

Just as Lyra was about to press further, a sudden, resonant bell echoed through the castle halls, its chime reverberating like a command. The sound cut through the tension in the air, signaling the start of their duties as castle staff members. Lyra took a deep breath, the weight of Jade's words lingering in her mind, and with a newfound resolve, she turned away from Ballentine and began making her way toward the princess's chambers.

The corridor stretched ahead of her, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting the castle's storied history. Each step echoed with a sense of purpose and trepidation. Lyra's heart beat steadily in her chest, a rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the anticipation and uncertainty of the path she was about to tread. With every footfall, she steeled herself for what lay ahead, knowing that the cryptic advice from her friend would soon reveal its meaning in the enigmatic world of the princess's chambers. As the grand doors loomed before her, Lyra took one final deep breath, the air heavy with the scent of anticipation, and pushed open the door, stepping into the unknown with courage in her heart and determination in her eyes.

The soft morning light filtered through the delicate curtains, casting a gentle glow upon the figure of the princess, still lost in the embrace of sleep. Lyra, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation, approached the ornate bed, her footsteps echoing softly against the chamber's grandeur. With a steadying breath, she reached for the curtains, her fingers gentle yet firm, and pulled them open in a swift, purposeful motion.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Lyra greeted her voice a perfect blend of firmness and sweetness, carrying the weight of her newfound responsibility. Time hung in the air, each second feeling like an eternity as she waited for the princess to stir from her slumber. Seconds turned into minutes, and when the stillness became too much to bear, Lyra's eyes fell upon a book resting on a nearby table.

An internal battle raged within her—a war between caution and necessity. Her mind warned her of the consequences, and the potential trouble of her actions, yet the urgency of her task spurred her forward. If she did not rouse the princess in time for breakfast, the repercussions could be just as dire. With a decisive breath, she approached the table, her fingers wrapping around the book. It felt weighty in her hands, the knowledge that her actions held consequences both daunting and invigorating.

In a split-second decision, Lyra allowed her instincts to guide her. The book met the floor with a loud thud, the sound shattering the quiet of the chamber. The princess jolted from her sleep, and sat up in bed with sudden haste, her expression a canvas of confusion.

"Good morning, Your Highness. I am so sorry for the noise, how clumsy of me," Lyra apologized, her voice genuine and laced with remorse for her abrupt disturbance. The princess, still disoriented, turned her head, her eyes narrowing in puzzlement.

"You are not Mrs. Crain," she observed, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"Indeed, I am not," Lyra affirmed, her voice unwavering as she retrieved the fallen book, her movements graceful and composed. "I am your new lady's maid, my name is Lyra, Your Highness." As she stood before the bed, she executed a perfect curtsy, her demeanor poised and respectful, embodying the grace that her position demanded.

In the quiet expanse of the princess's chamber, the atmosphere hung heavy with both anticipation and tension. Lyra, her movements purposeful and deliberate, approached the closet where the princess's attire was kept. Her eyes, keen and observant, scanned the array of clothing, a thoughtful frown marring her brow. Thanks to the insight Jade had provided, she anticipated finding an assortment of trousers and blouses instead of the expected dresses. Undeterred, she set about selecting an ensemble that balanced both comfort and practicality.

Meanwhile, Kit observed the young maid with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. Lyra's hands moved deftly among the fabrics, her choices made with a quiet confidence that intrigued Kit. As Lyra deliberated over the outfit, Kit's thoughts flitted between the impending discussion about her clothing and the growing thirst that had settled in her throat. An idea formed in her mind, a momentary escape from the oncoming battle about dresses and courtly attire.

With purposeful grace, Kit swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, her movements fluid despite the haze of sleep. She padded toward a nearby table adorned with a jug of water, her steps silent on the chamber's rich carpet. Pouring water into a delicate cup, the cool liquid soothed her parched throat, momentarily distracting her from the impending conversation.

"So, Your Highness, I was thinking about this for the day," Lyra's voice, polite and respectful, cut through the room. Kit, her thirst momentarily sated, turned her attention back to the maid, her expression one of guarded anticipation. She braced herself for the upcoming debate about her attire, a challenge she was prepared to meet head-on.

But as she turned, her eyes met Lyra's and she was met not with the expected resistance, but with something else entirely. The young maid stood before her, holding out a selection of clothing.

Trousers, a soft green blouse, and a vest were displayed with a kind of quiet confidence that took Kit aback. It was as though Lyra had read Kit's mind, understanding not just the princess's daily routines but also her desire for comfort and practicality.

"I thought that perhaps this would be comfortable for the day, in case Your Highness decides to do some training today," Lyra explained, her tone gentle yet firm. Kit, for the first time, found herself at a loss for words. The battle she had mentally prepared for had not materialized. Instead, there stood a maid who not only anticipated her needs but respected her choices. With a tentative smile, she nodded, a silent acceptance of the outfit offered to her.

As she began to change into comfortable attire, Kit stole a glance at Lyra, a newfound curiosity blossoming within her.

The air in the chamber hung with a subtle tension as Kit, made casual conversation, attempting to bridge the gap between their roles. "So... how old are you? You seem around my age," Kit inquired, her voice soft, her gaze lingering curiously on Lyra as she handed her the vest, the fabric cool and smooth in her hands.

"We are the same age, Your Highness," Lyra responded, her voice calm yet guarded, a faint hint of hesitation underlying her words. As Kit began to put on the vest, she noticed Lyra's meticulous efforts to smooth out any creases, her fingers moving with a practiced ease. The unspoken tension between them seemed to dissolve in the quiet rhythm of dressing.

"You're all set, Princess. Would you like me to do your hair?" Lyra offered her eyes briefly meeting Kit's before she took a step back, granting Kit space and autonomy in her decision.

Kit, feeling a sudden impulse to assert her independence, declined the offer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed herself in the mirror. "I do not think that would be necessary; I can do it myself," she stated, her voice tinged with a hint of determination as she started to walk toward the vanity where her brushes lay.

"I could braid it," Lyra persisted, her voice gentle, a subtle insistence underlying her offer. The maid's gaze held a quiet intensity as if she saw something more in the princess's request—a chance to connect beyond the boundaries of their roles.

Kit hesitated, her fingers absently combing through her hair as she considered Lyra's offer. For a moment, she pondered the idea of allowing this stranger, who seemed to understand her desires before she voiced them, into this intimate part of her daily routine. Yet, the pull of familiarity and self-sufficiency won her over.

"No, it's okay. I would wear it down today," Kit decided, her voice firm, her eyes meeting Lyra's in the mirror. In that brief, reflective moment, Kit noticed the color of Lyra's eyes—vivid blue, reminiscent of the sky just before dawn.

Kit, lost in her thoughts, was abruptly pulled back to reality by the sound of Lyra's voice. "So, I was not notified of any duties Your Highness would have to attend today, but for now, Her Majesty..." Lyra's words trailed off as Kit raised her hand, a silent plea for a momentary respite from the formalities that encased her life.

"Please, could we be, at least a little bit less formal, please?" Kit pleaded, her voice carrying the weight of both exhaustion and longing. In a fraction of a second, Kit swore she detected a glimmer of relief in Lyra's eyes, a shared desire for an escape from the rigid protocols and the gilded cage of royalty.

"Well, your mother and your brother are waiting for you to break their fast," Lyra continued, her voice softening, a genuine smile touching her lips. Kit found solace in the simple warmth of that smile, a respite from the usual stiffness she encountered in the castle's halls.

"Alright, that is great because I am really hungry right now," Kit replied, the sincerity in her voice betraying her weariness. With newfound determination, she started walking toward the door, the prospect of a meal a small yet significant comfort in her day.

As she stepped out, she realized Lyra hadn't followed. Confusion clouded her features, and she turned back to find the young maid standing in the opulent corridor. "Oh, I have to finish your chambers first, then I'll come with," Lyra explained, her voice soft and apologetic. Kit's eyes softened with understanding.

A pang of resentment surged within her. She hated the formality, the endless rituals, the suffocating expectations. The casual grace with which Lyra moved through the world, unburdened by titles and false smiles...

"Princess!" Kit's steps faltered, and she turned around at the sound of Lyra's voice. Lyra was hurrying toward her with an air of urgency.

"I forgot to let you know something," Lyra began, her words hinting at an important revelation. Kit's brows furrowed inquisitively. "Jade is going to start..."

"Jade? You know her?" Kit interjected a curious note in her voice. The fact that Lyra seemed to be acquainted with Jade intrigued her. Jade had never mentioned a connection to this girl before.

"Yes, we are acquaintances... friends, actually," Lyra replied with a warm smile, her eyes reflecting a genuine fondness for the subject of their conversation. Kit, on the other hand, wore a slight frown, her mind racing to process this newfound piece of information.

"As I was saying, Jade is going to be training in half an hour," Lyra continued, her words coming in a steady stream of consideration. "However, considering that you are only about to have food, I would consider waiting at least half an hour before starting your training."

Kit was about to interject with her own thoughts, but Lyra pressed on, her voice a mixture of sincerity and a trace of personal experience. "Because from personal experience, I once ate and then had to run, and I ended up throwing up..." Lyra trailed off, her expression contorting briefly with the memory of the unpleasant incident. "I think I just overshared, but that's my honest advice, Princess," she concluded with a graceful curtsy before stepping back.

Before Kit could formulate a response, Lyra turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. Kit stood there, a whirlwind of confusion and intrigue swirling within her.

Who was this girl, and where had she come from?

#kit tanthalos fanfiction #kit tanthalos #Kit Tanthalos x OFC #Kit Tanthalos x reader #kit tanthalos x jade claymore #Ruby Cruz #Ruby Cruz fanfic #hazel callahan

[vinecradle]

11 OMG - the sudden meeting (✿)

scaramouche x fem!reader

masterlist | previous | next

red for kazuha, blue for scaramouche!

you groaned as you thought of school, "nilou, layla, i'm gonna go to class first. i may or may not have forgotten my book at class 2C.." you sighed out.

"are you sure you're gonna go alone, right now? there's still 2 hours before school starts... don't you dislike it when you go to class without either kaveh, layla and i since there's a lot of people you don't know?" nilou questioned.

you sighed and stood up, "i'll be fine, i hope.. i just need to get my book quickly since there should be no one right now.. i'll get going now!"

and with that you waved at nilou and went on to go to sumeru class, 2C. not wanting to meet absolutely anyone.

i guess that'll change without you knowing, right?

┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

walking, walking, and walking.

you don't know how long you've been walking.

it's so empty, so quiet, and so dark.

just a little more.

you thought to no one, but yourself.

..and you've reached class 2B.

you sighed, and finally got the book you needed with no one in sight. "i should seriously get going."

walking outside with your head down, you nearly bumped into someone.

"oh- i'm sorry." you let out, without sparing a glance at the person in front of you. and the said person chuckles and suddenly pat your shoulder, and spoke. "who would've thought this is what our first meeting would turn out like?"

and with that, you swiftly looked up. only to be met with the face of scaramouche- the pretty eyes guy. "wait, i'm sorry! i didn't think it would be you- is this your class?"

"mhm, i always get here early. what are you doing here? i mean, if you were in my class, then i would've noticed you long ago."

you just pushed the lingering thoughts of his last words to the back of your head, "i kind of.. may have, accidentally left my book here.." you sweatdropped.

"what's up with you and leaving books? anyway, class is starting in about a few minutes. don't want you getting stuck here now, hm?" he said and pat your head.

you just nodded at him with a smile, trying to push the feeling of flusteredness inside you. "-yeah. again, sorry for nearly bumping into you.. and i'm glad we finally got to talk in person. i'll get going now!" you said at him, and waved your goodbyes.

and with that, you left to go to your own class with your thoughts. i thought there was way more than 1 hour before school starts..? fuck, i didn't even bring my phone.

kazuha stared at the two's interaction and snickered to himself, "well. you two are cute together, aren't you?" he teased his fellow friend. scaramouche just scowled at him, "not. a. word."

• IM SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE 😭😭 i had to go to the mall for a school project yesterday and fell asleep while writing..

• and finally a real life, actual conversation between you and scara 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻 things will finally pick up from here!!

summary :: wanting to go back to your dorm from the library, and accidentally leaving a friend's book there not knowing she has the intention of making you give it to someone she's trying to set you up with, a note inside with your number. without anyone realising, the book is in the hands of someone else, and you then wake up to a message from an unknown number.

author's note :: i kind of.. may have.. ran out of ideas for this chapter because it all came up in school and when i was nearly asleep 😭 and the explanation for why the time went by so fast for reader, it's because she spaced out.

taglist (1/2) :: @aeongiies @hrtswinter @zyilas @cofijelli @stuckinadreamland06 @elyionaa @thenightsflower @ohmyfinggod @mikctp @cherrybeomgyu @raideneiari @sakiimeo @xiaosonlybeloved @simp4bakuh03 @kunikuzushiit bolded cannot be tagged!

#genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact smau #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #wanderer #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi #omg vinecradle smau #genshin au #genshin impact au #genshin modern au #vinecradle #high school smau #scaramouche smau

[multifandomfanficss]

More Than I’m Willing To Lose Part 2

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Featuring platonic!11th Street Kids

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Prompt: Adrian takes care of you after the incident. This is Part 2 for More Than I’m Willing To Lose.

Warnings: panic, meltdowns, hitting yourself and pulling your own hair during a meltdown, gun violence, hospitals, non-sexual nudity, non-sexual showering with another person, wound care, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language

A/N: Hi guys! I meant to post this yesterday, but forgot. I’ve never been on a weekly posting schedule before. Super exciting! I hope you enjoy the chapter and the rest of the series! ❤️🧜‍♂️❤️

It wasn’t long before you were discharged from the hospital. Adrian had spent as much time with you as possible, occasionally stepping out for a short shift at Fennel Fields. The others took turns hanging out with you in the four hours a day he was gone. He had originally planned on taking time off, but you wouldn’t let him. You knew he needed the money and that it wasn’t healthy for him to spend all of his time awake or asleep in a hospital. He rationalized going to work by promising to take off time when you were discharged so he could help you get readjusted. Truth be told the nights he was gone for a couple hours were your favorite. It wasn’t that you didn’t miss him. It was the opposite actually, but despite missing him you were always excited when he brought you food after his shift. Italian food was your favorite and you were sick of hospital food.

On one particular afternoon you were missing Adrian a little more than usual.

“I know that look.” Adebayo laughed.

“What look?!” You asked.

“You miss Adrian.” She gives an exaggerated sigh.

“Do not!” You protest, but the deep red coming to your cheeks tells a different story. The tv was on and you had been channel surfing until you came upon a channel playing Fargo reruns. It was very obvious who you were thinking of.

“He’s a little interesting…but sweet.” She smiled. “I can understand why you like him.” She says after a short pause.

“I never said-“

“I could just tell. Harcourt and I have been talking about it over the past few days. We think he likes you too.” She cuts you off. You decide to sit silently on that information. Your mind drifts back to your first night in the hospital when you could have sworn you heard Adrian say he loved you. You were on some heavy pain meds and you were falling asleep, so you had forgotten about it until now and you weren’t sure it even happened. That’s going to be the only thing in your head for a while.

Not too long after that you hear a knock at the door. You look up to see Adrian half dressed in his uniform. His apron and hat are missing, but he’s still in his red shirt and black pants. He has a brown paper bag in his hand and the smell of Italian food is radiating from the hallway. Your face immediately lights up.

“I brought your favorite.” He smiles.

“And mozzarella sticks?” Adebayo asks.

“And mozzarella sticks.” He confirms. Leota pumps her fists in the air with excitement and you laugh.

“I missed the beginning of Fargo?” Adrian whines turning his head to the tv.

“Sit down. I’ll restart it. The hospital has direct tv.” You say, patting the bed. He settled into the bed next to you. With Adebayo in the chair, he really had no other place to sit, but neither of you minded. You had become like puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together since the night you arrived at the hospital. While Adrian’s eyes were glued to the tv, you couldn’t help, but notice Ad’s giving you a mischievous look.

In the next few days you were discharged. Adrian had the day off from Fennel Fields and Harcourt excused him from the team meeting, so he could help you. He would be helping you a lot after your discharge. You were currently sat in the passenger seat of his Sebring. Your arm was in a sling, but aside from that you were feeling a little bit of normalcy for the first time in forever with your window down and Adrian’s music coming from the speakers. The two of you were quietly singing along to the music as he drove along the familiar streets of your neighborhood. By the time he had gotten to your block you were done singing. You stared down the street at your apartment. You hadn’t noticed Adrian had stopped singing either until he grabbed your hand. You lightly jumped, a little startled by the sensation, but eased into the feeling of his warm hands.

“You’re shaking. Are you okay?” He asks hesitantly, pulling over in front of your building. You take a deep breath and give him a slow nod. He gives you a small smile, putting the car in park. “Look, I know I’m not always the best at knowing what people are thinking, but if any of this is too much for you, just let me know.” He says, trying to make eye contact with you. You can’t peel your eyes away from the place in front of your apartment where you were shot. The blood is gone. If you didn’t know better, if you were just passing by on the street, you would assume nothing had ever happened. You slowly nod again. “We can just sit here for a minute if that’s what you need?” Adrian asks hesitantly.

“I want to go inside.” You say quietly.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“I want to go inside, but I can’t walk up the steps by myself.” You admit shyly.

“You don’t have to. I’m going to be with you every step of the way.” He assures you. He slowly gets out of the car and walks to the passenger door. He opens it for you and undoes your seatbelt. He then holds out his hand for you to take. “Whenever you’re ready.” He says, patiently. Every part of your body feels hyper sensitive, like all of your senses are on fire. You can feel the muscles flex in Adrian’s arm as he pulls you up. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears. Your legs feel wobbly as your feet slap against the hard concrete. As you approach the steps to your building you grip Adrian tighter. He pulls you protectively into his side. You think you can faintly hear him talking, but you can’t process what he’s saying. You are however aware of the sounds of the key scraping inside the lock as Adrian lets you into your apartment on the second floor. After Jack had stolen your keys, Harcourt and Economos had come by the replace the locks. You take one more step and you’re in your apartment. Once you’re inside you look at the posters of your favorite shows and movies and try to forget that Jack had even set foot in the space. This was your safe place and you would make it that way again. Harcourt had offered to get you a place in the building where she was living, but you refused. You didn’t want this asshole to take your home away from you. You would make it yours again.

As soon as you walked into your bedroom and carefully flopped onto your bed, you felt a rush of comfort splash over you; like waves rolling over your body at the beach on a hot summer day. Staring at the familiar ceiling brought you peace. You traced the stars and planets on your ceiling with your eyes. You hadn’t put them there and they had long since been painted over by someone, most likely your landlord, but they were your favorite part of your apartment. The plastic glow in the dark stars and planets covered by white paint had probably been there long before you moved in and they would be there long after.

It was nice to be in clothes you felt comfortable in again. The hospital gown was getting old and the feeling of your couch underneath your body felt so familiar and comforting. You were currently watching Little Shop of Horrors with Adrian and your apartment smelt of slightly burnt popcorn and butter because Adrian was trying to make sure every kernel popped and in the process burnt some of the earlier pieces to pop out of the batch. You were currently waiting for Chris to show up with the beer he promised to bring.

“I don’t understand how he fucked up this badly. He could have easily gotten away with that murder. He’s such a bad lier.” Adrian sighs.

“No offense, but you are like the worst lier I’ve ever met.” You laugh.

“I am not!” He argues.

“No, you are. I don’t know how you haven’t been caught yet.” You continue to laugh.

“I haven’t been caught because I’m the second best superhero in town!” He declares.

“Honey, you’re one of only two suited superheroes in town.” You blush, realizing you just called him honey.

“That we know of.” He says, lips tight in a pout, desperately reaching to win this argument. You open your mouth to respond when suddenly the power goes out. You feel yourself stop breathing. Adrian stands up and gets off the couch. You reach out in the darkness desperately trying to grab for him. He must barely see you because he leans into your grasp. He crouches down to your level, placing your hand on his face.

“I’m here. I’m just going to look outside. Just stay here, okay?” He says. You let out a soft whimper, unable to form words. “I’m not even going to leave the room. I’m just going to look out the window.” Adrian releases your hand, standing up again, walking towards the living room window that faces the front of your building. You find a little peace when his body is illuminated by the moonlight. You try to hold back tears and breathe evenly. Adrian quickly moves towards you as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness. He’s taking something out of the waste band of his jeans. He brings you to the corner of the room. You hear a click and you want to immediately retreat, but there’s nowhere to go. You start to hyperventilate.

“I need you to stay in the corner and shoot anyone who walks through that door that isn’t me.” Adrian says quickly.

“I-I can’t-“

“Yes, you can. You have to.” Adrian cuts you off.

“I don’t know how to use it.” You’re looking for any excuse to not take the gun.

“The safety is off and there’s plenty of bullets for if you miss the first time. Aim for the head or the-“

“Adrian, I can’t.” It was your turn to cut him off.

“Why not?” He asks. The two of your are speaking a mile a minute.

“I can’t do it. I can’t. I never want to see a gun again. Please don’t make me take that.” You beg him.

“I’m sorry, but you need to take this.” He says. Shoving the weapon in your hands.

“Please don’t leave me.” You beg through sobs that you started, but are unable to stop.

“I have to run downstairs for just a minute. I promise I’ll be right back, but I need you to promise you’ll stay in this corner and you’ll shoot anything that moves.” He pleads with you. You nod through your sobs. “I’ll be right back. I promise.” He says before running out the door.

You stand in the corner for what feels like the longest moment of your life. It feels like an hour although you’re sure it’s only been a few minutes. You hear gunshots outside and your heart stops. After a little while you start to hear footsteps coming up the stairs. You don’t recognize the heaviness of the boot and the foot pattern to be Adrian. You wait to be sure until a silhouette comes into the doorframe and it’s taller and wider than Adrian. With the lights still out, you’re able to attack the intruder before they even recognize you’re in the room. You follow Adrian’s instructions and pull the trigger.

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?! It’s Chris!” The voice yells. You freeze in your tracks. Suddenly the lights come back on and you’re met face to face with Chris who is now holding his arm, bleeding. Luckily you had only grazed him. You hear footsteps running up the stairs.

“I found the breaker!” Adrian calls from down the hall.

“I don’t give a shit about the breaker, they shot me!” Chris continues to yell as Adrian enters the room. You stay frozen, staring down at the gun.

“Sorry. I told them to shoot anyone that wasn’t me.” Adrian says.

“You couldn’t have warned me?!” Chris complains.

“You didn’t ask.” Adrian shrugs, walking over to you slowly. You can see Chris’ look of annoyance, but you don’t truly process it. Adrian takes in your posture and facial expressions, analyzing you, before slowly placing his hand over the barrel of the gun. Your hand is gripping it so tightly that your knuckles have turned white. “I’ve got it. Just let go. That’s it.” Adrian says softly as you slowly release the gun. When it’s out of your hand and Adrian passes it off to Chris, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, as you fall forward into Adrian’s arms. You feel your body go limp against his as you start to sob. You drag him to the ground with you. He shushes you, rubbing circles into your back.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize.

“You did nothing wrong. You did exactly what I told you to. I’m so proud of you.” Adrian smiles down at you. You continue to cry into his arms.

“He’s gone. He made a run for it when we started shooting at him. We tried to catch him, but we weren’t fast enough.” Chris tells you. You know this is supposed to be in an effort to make you feel better, but it only makes you feel worse.

You try to keep your body from shaking violently. You wiggle around in Adrian’s arms. He catches on to your attempt to self sooth and he sways with you. You pull your arm that is not in the sling out from under his and start to pound into your head and pull at your hair. You try to hold back screams. He carefully unwinds your fingers from your hair and hugs you tighter to keep you from hurting yourself. You scream into his chest.

“I’m sorry. It’s gonna be okay. You’re safe now. I’m never gonna let him hurt you again. I’m here. I’m here.” Adrian repeats. Chris leaves the room to call Harcourt to give her an update. After a while your sobbing subsides, as you continue to rock back and fourth slowly in Adrian’s arms. “You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you. You’re so strong.” He continues to compliment and reassure you. He places a kiss on your forehead. The warmth of his lips spreads across your whole body. It helps bring you to a calm enough state to speak.

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” You let out a quiet, weak sentence.

“Do you want to sleep at my place tonight?” He asks. You nod, but make no effort to get up to leave. Adrian slowly helps you stand and he drags you to your room to sit on your bed while he packs a bag for you. You assume you will be gone for more than one night, as he packs you a bag of several days worth of clothes. He wraps your favorite blanket around your body, and slings the bag of clothes over his shoulder. He then picks up your favorite pillow in one hand and wraps an arm around you with his free hand. You hold onto him tight as the three of you make the trip outside to pile into the Sebring. You hold your breath until Adrian locks your seatbelt in place and drives far enough that your apartment is out of view. Chris is still on the phone updating Harcourt. It was late enough. Tonight she would let you rest, but tomorrow she was going to come to Adrian’s to crack down and close this fucking case.

First stop was to drop off Chris. The guys decided that tonight probably wasn’t the best night for beer and movies. After stopping at the trailer you made your way back to Adrian’s place. You stayed silent the entire time and for the first time in his life Adrian didn’t have much to say either.

“I want you to teach me how to shoot.” You say quietly, breaking the silence. Your voice is dead as you stare off through the window.

“What? I thought you were afraid of guns.” Adrian questions.

“I don’t know what I’m not afraid of at this point, but the next time I see that bastard I’m blowing his fucking brains out.” You inform him.

“Wait a second. You used to be so anti-killing. That was supposed to be my job. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses on the topic of killing bad people and this dude totally needs to be killed, this just isn’t like you.” He rambles.

“I don’t even know who me is anymore. He took that away from me.” You let your voice trail off, as you get choked up again. Adrian looks at you, not quite knowing what to say. The truth is he wishes he could say every nice thought he’s ever had about you, but he doesn’t want to freak you out. He doubts you feel the same about him and after getting shot by your first date since he met you a year ago, he doesn’t really think you’re in the mood. After all Chris had spent the entire past year saying you were so far out of his league that it was funny. You wish you knew all of this. You would have proved Chris wrong.

Adrian walks around to your side of the car, opening the door for you. He lets you into his home. You walk around like a zombie with a blank stare, not particularly looking at anything, just sort of disassociating. He takes your belongings and brings them down the hallway to what you assume is his bedroom.

“What do you want to do now?” Adrian asks. You shrug, avoiding his stare.

“Do you want to shower and change into something more comfortable?” He asks. You think about a shower and it’s honestly the best thing you can imagine right now. You nod, speaking feeling like a chore. He pushes you towards the bathroom and starts the water for you. He places his hand inside until the water is the perfect temperature. He turns to leave the room, but you stop him. You call his name softly. He turns around and hums in response.

“Can you help me?” You ask, pointing to your sling. He gulps and nods. You think you see a blush quickly approaching his cheeks, but you’re too numb to care at the moment. He helps you take off your sling. He then places his hands at the hem of your shirt.

“If you’re uncomfortable, just let me know and I’ll stop and leave the room.” He says. You lock eyes with him, trying to keep tears at bay and nod. You hadn’t felt this safe with a man in so many years, you couldn’t even remember. It was especially jarring after that ‘date’. He slips your shirt off of your body, pausing to take a look at your wound. “I’m going to have to redress your shoulder after you shower.” He tells you. You nod again, too tired for words. He then kneels to take off your shoes and socks. He then slides your jeans down your legs. With any other man this would be awkward. It would feel oddly sexually charged. You wouldn’t feel safe. With Adrian you know he would never do anything to hurt you. You know he’d respect you and your body and never take advantage of you. That’s why you take your next step.

He holds out his hands to help you step with wobbly legs into the shower. When he goes to leave the bathroom, you reach out your hand to tug at his.

“Can you…” You’re just so tired of talking. You try to pull him into the shower with you.

“You want me to join you?” He asks, a nervous edge to his voice. You nod.

“Please. I don’t want to be alone in here with my thoughts.” You tell him, honestly. He gives you a sad smile before stripping down to his boxers and stepping into the shower behind you. Despite being naked in a shower with the man you’ve had a crush on for a year, you feel no need to make a move. You’re exhausted and scared and you just need his comfort right now. You hear a bottle opening and the squeezing of shampoo into Adrian’s hands. He begins to massage the shampoo into your hair. He’s so gentle and the way his finger nails scratch across your scalp feels euphoric. You feel like a rag doll, as Adrian moves your body in every which way to clean it. You don’t feel invaded. You feel quite the opposite, like you’re being well taken care of. His hands are soft and he smells incredible. You smile to yourself thinking you’ll smell like him too after using his soap. He hums to you as he washes you. It’s odd to think someone who kills people at night can be so gentle and loving.

After you shower he cleans and redresses your wound. He does all of this wordlessly. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Adrian so quiet. You hiss at the pain as he touches your wound to clean it.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you.” He instructs you.

“You could never hurt me.” You smile up at him.

“I definitely could.” He says, missing the point. You stare off into space trying to ignore his hands against your shoulder.

“Better?” He asks after your wound is covered again. You look up into his eyes and nod slowly. You get lost in his eyes, staring at each other. His green eyes seem to put you in a trance. Your faces are even, as the counter you’re sitting on makes you taller. Adrian is standing between your parted legs to have better access to your wound. You’re so close you can feel his breath on your skin. You think you might be drifting closer. You want to kiss him so badly. You think you might before Adrian turns his head away at the last second. A blush comes to both your cheeks. “I bet you’re tired. We should get you set up in my room. I’ll take the couch.” He says before exiting the bathroom. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before following him.

You take a minute to yourself before walking into his bedroom to see a shirt and a pair of boxers laid out on the bed. He’s already changed, so you assume they’re for you.

“When I packed your bag I forgot to grab something for you to sleep in. Sorry.” He admits. You blush. That wasn’t the truth, but you didn’t need to know that. He hoped you wouldn’t catch onto the fact that he just wanted to see you safe, warm, and comfortable in his clothes.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind wearing your clothes.” You say quietly. The shirt was black, its design faded and the fabric was starting to grow pilly. This was obviously a very well loved shirt. You had seen Adrian wear it from time to time when he wasn’t in the Vigilante suit, which you saw him in the majority of the time. At one point you commented on how much you liked it. You remember him telling you it was one of his favorite shirts. What you didn’t know was that this is his absolute favorite shirt, his comfort shirt, the shirt he practically lives in when it is clean. Despite just seeing you naked, Adrian leaves the room for you to drop your towel and change. When he comes back in, he has a glass of ice water in his hands. You gladly take it. You gulp it down quickly, not realizing how thirsty you were. It’s probably from all of the crying. When you hand him back the glass he asks if you would like another. You politely decline.

“You should get some sleep.” He says, slowly backing out of the doorway.

“Are you sure you want me to sleep in your bed? I don’t want to kick you out.” You ask.

“Pshh of course. It’s nothing.” He says, trying to make light of sleeping on the couch.

“Well, nonetheless it means a lot.” You smile at him. You lay down on the bed before he flicks out the light and goes to shut the door. Your anxiety quickly grows in the dark, unfamiliar room.

“Wait!” You catch his attention. He opens the door and you watch the light cascade in again from the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Adrian asks.

“Can you uh…” you drift off.

“Do you want me to lay with you again, like I did in the hospital?” He asks. You nod, sheepishly. “Uh- yeah.” Adrian nods, smiling. “I can do that.” He affirms, as he gets under the covers with you. At first Adrian is a little stiff. This is admittedly a weird situation. You’re not filled with all of the adrenaline that you were the first time. It takes a minute before you decide to place your head against his chest. He shifts awkwardly before putting his arm around you and pulling you tightly to his body. After you fall into a rhythm and it’s clear what the other person wants, you feel perfectly pressed together like two puzzle pieces. Adrian starts drawing circles on your arm. Between the steady motion, his heartbeat, and the rising and falling of his chest, you’re soothed to sleep. You feel him press a kiss to your forehead as you drift off.

#fanfic #fanfiction #adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #freddie stroma #peacemaker #peacemaker hbo max #peacemaker imagine #peacemaker fanfic #peacemaker fanfiction #adrian chase fanfic #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase oneshot #vigilante x reader #vigilante #vigilante fanfiction #vigilante imagine #vigilante oneshot #christopher smith #chris smith #leota adebayo #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase x you #vigilante x you #vigilante fanfic #peacemaker dc #dc fanfiction #dc comics #dc fanfic

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (28/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 3150

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Six years after the beach on Driftmark, the Queen of All Dragons and Emrys, the young black dragon called Balerion, Second of His Name, by the smallfolk of King’s Landing, finally meet.

Warnings: None

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Vhagar & Emrys

“Wake up, Aria,” Aemond whispered softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “It’s almost dawn, and I have great plans for us today.”

Arianwyn groaned, rolling across the bed and out of his grasp. “What ‘great plans’ could possibly require my getting out of bed before the sun has risen?”

He laughed, “As I recall, you woke before the sun rose yesterday.”

“Yes,” her voice was muffled as she buried herself beneath the blankets, “but you may also recall that I did not get out of bed until much later. Of course, you may try and tempt me with more lecherous activities. But I have had very little sleep these last two nights, and I will not make promises I may not be able to keep.”

Aemond leaned back from the bed, unsure how to proceed. He had been awake for some time and had already dressed in his riding leathers, something he was surprised that she had not noticed. After six years apart, he had forgotten just how much mornings disagreed with her.

But as much as she hated mornings, she loved dragonriding more.

“I suppose we can just laze about,” he said, lying beside her atop the blankets and furs, “but Vhagar is always in a better mood earlier in the day. And I would not want her in a bad temper for her first meeting with Emrys.”

The soft morning light was blotted out by fur as Arianwyn threw her blankets off – and on top of him – as eagerly as a prisoner ridding himself of his chains. Then, without a word, she leapt out of bed and ran to their dressing room to begin donning her own riding leathers.

Aemond laughed, “So your husband cannot tempt you, but Vhagar can?”

“Vhagar is a Queen!” she shouted back. “The ‘Queen of All Dragons!’ I cannot disobey the wishes of a Queen. A mere Prince, on the other hand…”

Her teasing was cut off when Aemond snuck into the dressing room behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist. She giggled, leaning back into his chest.

“Surely, I am more than a ‘mere Prince,’” he whispered, pressing his cheek against hers as he began to lace her leathers. “I am also the Lord of Runestone. That must elevate my standing.”

“Lord Consort of Runestone, my love,” she corrected, turning her head to kiss him. “And in my eyes, there is no higher standing.”

He yanked on the cords of her cuirass, squeezing another delightful laugh out of her. “I am honored, my Lady.”

Once he finished with her cuirass, she let him continue to dress her, stealing a kiss whenever he came close to her lips. After one such kiss, he dropped one of her bracers on the floor as he instinctively moved to cup her face.

“If you don’t stop, we’ll never make it out of the castle,” he scolded with a grin.

Arianwyn pouted, “You really want me to stop?”

He sighed as he knelt to pick up the bracer. Few dragonriders wore actual armor when they flew outside of battle, but Arianwyn always did. Her once ordinary brown riding leathers had been fortified with thin plates of engraved bronze – the symbol of her house.

It was not one of the original sets of plate armor that had been passed down by her ancestors, but a reproduction. None of the ancient suits would ever fit Arianwyn – she was far too small, and the Bronze Kings had been massive men. Still, the Lady of Runestone needed her Runes.

As he finally latched her bracer in place, he examined the writing wrapped around her wrist. An incantation, a plea for strength, agility, and the blessings of nature. Perfect for a cavalryman, or a dragonrider.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he admitted. “But I also don’t want to take all this off only to have to put it back on again. And Vhagar is waiting for us.”

“And Emrys,” Arianwyn added, looping her arms around his neck. “He has missed you.”

Aemond smiled. He had always shared an unusually close bond with Emrys – closer than most bonded dragons would ever be with anyone other than their riders. It had always puzzled the Dragonkeepers, but it gave him comfort. He always knew that should he never claim a dragon of his own, he could ride with Arianwyn atop her little black dread.

“I have missed him as well,” he said, pressing a kiss to his wife’s forehead before leading her out of the dressing room. “I expect he must be as large as Meleys by now.”

Arianwyn laughed as she left their bedchamber and sat at the breakfast table. “Not quite that large, but large enough that I expect we terrified some of the smallfolk on our way into the city.”

As he sat across from her, Aemond beamed. But his smile faded as he watched her pour a cup of grey tea and take a sip. He said nothing, instead focusing on keeping his expression neutral.

They had made an agreement last night. One year, just the two of them. To allow them time to make up for six years spent apart. To make Runestone their home. After that one year was up, then, and only then, would they start their family.

It had been a compromise – Arianwyn wanted to wait longer, and Aemond didn’t want to wait at all. He was so desperate for a family.

One that would love him unconditionally. They would love him for the man he was, rather than the position he had been born to. To them, he would be a father, rather than a second son. The spare, should anything happen to Aegon. The warrior Prince expected to gladly lay down his life for his brother, to fade into the pages of history, noted only for his forgettable place on the great Targaryen family tree.

At Runestone, with Arianwyn and their family, he could be – would be – so much more.

For now, he would have to wait. But waiting could be bearable, so long as he was with her.

“Where shall we fly today?” she asked as she finished the tea, breaking Aemond from his musings.

“I had no particular destination in mind,” he said, loading his plate with boiled eggs, bacon rashers, and a thick slice of fresh bread. “We can go wherever the winds take us.”

“Or wherever Vhagar takes us, if she is truly as stubborn as you’ve described,” she laughed.

Her wide, giddy smile was irresistible. At that moment, Aemond thought that a year with just the two of them was, in fact, a wonderful idea.

-

They took separate coaches, as while Aemond was going directly to the Tourney Grounds, Arianwyn went first to the Dragonpit to retrieve Emrys.

The Dragonkeepers had been informed of the Prince’s plans, and the young black dragon was already saddled and waiting for his rider when she arrived. As soon as she emerged from her carriage, he let out an excited trill and pulled against his restraints.

“Lykirī, Emrys,” Arianwyn called. “Nyke jāhor sagon konīr aderī. Yn istin ȳdragon naejot Dantis ēlī.” Calm down. I will be there soon. But I must speak to Dantis first.

He whined, a pitiful noise from such an intimidating beast, but indeed settled, however impatiently.

Arianwyn turned to Elder Dantis, the highest ranking Elder of Dragonkeepers. He was a stern old man, but his love for the dragons was strong and true. And he had always been sweeter with Arianwyn and Helaena than the boys – they were far more interested in the scholarship of the dragons.

“How has he been? I regret that I have not come to see him,” she asked, speaking in the common tongue to prevent Emrys from listening to their conversation – he always pouted when she spoke about him to others. She donned her gloves as they strode across the courtyard, thinking for a moment that the old man may not reply. It would be like him to do so.

But her fears were unfounded. Dantis stopped some yards from Emrys and turned to Arianwyn. He reached forward, toward the collar of her riding leathers, pulling it aside so he could see the bruises there.

“This happened two nights ago, yes?” he asked. More of a statement than a question.

Arianwyn nodded.

Dantis grimaced, “He felt it.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, bewildered by the statement.

But the Dragonkeeper only pointed to Emrys, and to his throat. The smoky grey-black of the scales on his neck were marred by two pink gashes just beneath his jaw.

“Two nights ago,” Dantis explained, “he awoke from his slumber, greatly disturbed. He roared with such ferocity and desperation. When we made it to his den, he was clawing at his throat as though something was restricting his breath.”

Arianwyn knew well how that felt.

“We could not get close to him. His fire was burning so wild and so hot. For a moment, it even…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. “He has Balerion’s blood. That much is certain.”

But Arianwyn could not tear her eyes from the marks on her beloved dragon’s neck. He had done that to himself. Because he felt her pain, as her father came so close to killing her.

“Do not fret, my Princess,” Dantis said, his stern demeanor fading if only for a moment. “The wounds are small; they will heal quickly. This is a sign of the strongest bond between rider and dragon. One that few, even in your line, have possessed.”

His words provided some measure relief from the guilt that swept over her. But it also piqued her curiosity. “Who else has possessed such a bond?”

“Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes are the first that I am aware of,” he replied, seemingly excited that someone was finally interested in the history of the Targaryen dragons. “King Aenys and Quicksilver. Some believe Queen Alyssane and Silverwing also shared this bond, though I have my doubts. And, of course, your new husband and Vhagar.”

At that, Arianwyn turned away from Emrys to look at the old Dragonkeeper. “Aemond and Vhagar?”

From what she had learned from his letters, she always thought their bond to be strained. Aemond often wrote about Vhagar acting on her own accord and disobeying his commands, particularly when it came to flying upside down. It was why he had ordered so many restraints put on his saddle.

“You were there that night, Princess,” Dantis said, equally as confused as her. “Surely you heard her roar when he lost his eye.”

Arianwyn laughed, though she was not sure why. “I’m afraid I was too busy roaring myself, Elder.”

She had also been crying as she attempted to staunch his bleeding. And fainting. But he did not need to know those particular details.

“Oh, she roared like I had never heard,” he confirmed. “It was a breathtaking sound. Not unlike Emrys, two nights ago.”

“Why are these bonds so rare? Each rider must bond with their dragon. They could not mount them otherwise. What makes some stronger than others?”

Dantis had a faraway look as he pondered the question. “I do not know, Princess. Nor do I think it is our place to know. The dragons are beyond us, it is folly to think we can ever truly understand them.”

With that, he bowed to Arianwyn and motioned for the novice Dragonkeepers to bring Emrys forward.

Emrys bounded toward his rider like a happy pup, unable to contain his excitement. He nudged her with his snout, prodding her until she embraced him. Though at his size, it looked more like her simply splaying her arms across his scales rather than a true embrace.

“Ēza mērī issare hāre tubissa,” she laughed. It has only been three days.

He snorted, shaking his head dismissively as if to say, “Yes, but it has been a difficult three days.”

Bringing his nose to rest against Arianwyn’s neck, his hot breath soothed the aching pain of her bruises as he looked into her eyes and whined softly.

“Iksan sȳz. Kessa giēñagon,” she said. “Hae kessa ao.” I am fine. It will heal. As will you.

He squinted his large icy-blue eyes in an expression of suspicious disbelief that would look at home on the face of a cranky toddler, but seemed to accept her words.

Arianwyn patted his jaw. “Gaomagon jaelā naejot jikagon rhaenagon Vhagar?” Do you want to go meet Vhagar?

His eyes went wide, and his tail swung with wild excitement as he pushed her toward his side with his snout. Laughing, she walked alongside him, running a hand across his smooth scales until she reached the saddle.

“Ziry se Aemond issi umbās syt īlva,” she whispered as she strapped herself into her seat. “Sōvēs!” She and Aemond are waiting for us.

Emrys hardly needed the command. He was already surging forward in the courtyard, building the speed he needed to take to the air. As he soared higher and higher, he let out a jubilant trill, the sound echoing off the red tiled roofs of King’s Landing.

In the sky, Arianwyn felt her heart beating in tandem with his. Even as he twirled excitedly through his ascent, she never felt afraid.

Dantis was right; their bond was strong.

For a moment, she could almost feel a tugging on her heart, a thread connecting her to this great beast. But as she chased that feeling, trying to take hold of that thread, it faded.

Even when undetectable, the connection was still there. Emrys turned south toward the Tourney Grounds without needing a command, leaving Arianwyn free to simply enjoy the flight. To savor the cool air and the wind. To relish in her freedom.

Daemon and Caraxes were far away, their threats without teeth. There was nothing stopping her from flying forever, from going wherever she wanted.

Nothing except for the fact that she was already precisely where she wanted to be.

As the city fell away behind them and the sprawling fields of the Tourney Grounds came into view, Arianwyn saw Vhagar for the first time in six years.

The sight of the massive beast still took her breath away. To think that there were once hundreds of dragons even larger than her in the world, that her ancestors wielded such unfathomable power was, at once, humbling and awe-inspiring. And the fact that her husband had not only claimed her, but formed an extraordinary bond with her, made Arianwyn’s heart swell with pride.

Aemond was standing by Vhagar’s head when Emrys landed on the opposite side of the field, his hand on one of the many ropes attached to her saddle. The she-dragon was tense, her tail flicking back and forth rapidly as she assessed the new, small creature across from her. But Aemond kept speaking to her, telling her – again – of how he had spent years loving Arianwyn. How they had grown together. How it had been him, at only a few months old, who had selected the glistening black egg for her cradle.

How, since the last time he saw Vhagar, he had married Arianwyn.

Indeed, Vhagar turned to him, drinking in his scent to find it mixed with another. The smell of cold wind and smoke.

“Issa ñuhon,” he whispered. “Se iksan zȳhon.” She is mine. And I am hers.

Vhagar made a hesitant sound, still unsure. Ever since she had felt his pain on that first night, she was always so protective of her rider.

Sensing her skepticism, Aemond leaned in to reassure her. “Īles konīr bona bantis.  Ao ruaratan zirȳla lēda rizmon.  Skori īlen ōdrikagon, ziry mīsatas nyke.  Ēza va moriot mīsatas nyke.” She was there that night. You covered her with sand. When I was hurt, she defended me. She has always defended me.

At the memory of spraying that scared little girl with sand, Vhagar let out a rumbling growl that Aemond had always interpreted as laughter. At least she was relaxed enough to find humor in his words.

He turned to Arianwyn, now standing beside Emrys, who was staring at Vhagar with wide eyes, and beckoned her forward with a wave of his hand.

“Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon,” she said quickly to Emrys before leading him forward. Do not be afraid.

He leaned into her as they walked slowly across the field. When they were close enough for Vhagar to make out the details of the young dragon, she rose from her crouch, her head tilting like an owl spotting its prey.

“Lykirī, Vhagar!” Aemond shouted, tightening his grip on her reins. “Iōragon ilagon!” Stay calm, Vhagar! Stand down!

But she did not. She huffed, the sound almost a command.

A command that Emrys obeyed.

While Arianwyn had frozen where she stood, Emrys continued forward, despite his rider’s shouts for him to return to her. He did not stop until he stood directly before the Queen of All Dragons.

Though he was nearly as large as Syrax, a dragon twenty years his elder, he was still dwarfed by Vhagar. But he stood perfectly still as she craned her neck to examine him. Arianwyn had told him not to be afraid, so he would not be.

Aemond continued to shout commands to Vhagar, begging her to withdraw.

But she did not. Rather, she pressed her cheek against Emrys’ neck, purring with affection when he nuzzled her in return.

The Prince was still frozen in shock when Arianwyn came to his side, out of breath from her sprint across the tourney field. “What are they doing?”

Vhagar had wrapped her tail around Emrys as she carefully inspected each horn on his head, the younger dragon crooning under the attention.

“I think…” Aemond laughed, wrapping his arms around Arianwyn, holding her just as his dragon held hers. He had never seen Vhagar like this, especially not with another dragon. She had always been happy to keep her distance from the others, but something about Emrys sparked something new within her, a youthful joy he had never seen before.

And then it was clear. “I think he reminds her of Balerion.”

Arianwyn laughed with him as they looked upon their dragons, the fearsome beasts that had given their family the power to conquer the realm, snuggling each other like a pair of cats. “Her and all the city, apparently.”

The dragons continued their display for so long that by the time they finally turned to their riders, Aemond was sitting on the grass, leaning back on his arms as Arianwyn slept soundly with her head in his lap.

“Issi ao olvie tetan?” he asked, somewhat sarcastically. Are you quite finished?

Vhagar blew a defensive puff of smoke, while Emrys ducked his head sheepishly.

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head as he nudged his sleeping wife. “Wake up, Aria. We’re finally ready to fly.”

Next Chapter

#aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond fluff #aemond imagine #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd imagine #ewan mitchell

[toptierteaser]

The Fitness App

Chapter Two: The Assessment

                “So…huff…what is it, exactly…puff…that I’m supposed to be…herm…doing?”

                Coach Hermes had instructed Dylan to dress himself, to go about clothing himself as normal. As had become the standard—one which Dylan barely registered as problematic—the effort of putting his socks and shoes on in the morning had become a challenge, just like the act of tugging those tight shorts over his fattened booty…just like yanking on a shirt so it covered the whole of his belly…   

“Today is our first full day of interactive assessment,” said Hermes in a cool voice. It was disconcerting having an A.I. device capable of whispering in your ear at any given time in the day. Even more disconcerting was the fact that the A.I. had gotten more familiar with him. It had learned quite a bit about him in the twenty-four-hours since Dylan had locked it into his head, since he had committed to its assistance for a full year. “Yesterday, I observed your habits without commentary. Today, we discuss those habits…and potential for how to change them, as a team. You are to go about your day as normal, and then we will assess together your eating, exercise, and social habits…Now, as we have a busy day today, Dylan, it might behoove you to get a move on with those socks.”

Trying to retain some semblance of dignity, Dylan hurried, swapping out his legs, pulling one blubbery thigh up over the other. His legs were taking up too much space, pressed up against his big belly, to allow him to comfortably dress as a normal man would. As a fit man could. As he used to be able to do without thinking twice about it, not so long ago.

“Tsk, tsk,” said the A.I. in his ear. “Such a shame, that a young fit man would eat himself silly like this! The fat really went to those chubby legs of yours, didn’t it, big boy?”

Dylan said nothing. He had finally pulled the sock up over his foot and was now squirming off the edge of his bed.

Coach Hermes cleared his throat. “Ahem…I believe I asked you a question, Dylan. Did your legs not blimp up faster than the rest of your body as you put on weight?”

“Um…yes!” said Dylan. “Y-yes, they did…Coach”

“Thank you,” said the app. “Don’t worry. You’ll remember your manners in no time! All it will take is a bit of conditioning!”

Dylan wasn’t exactly worried that he had ‘forgotten his manners,’ but was considering if he would not soon regret that the Coach was locked permanently in his ear for the next 364 days.

He moved to his closet, surveying his shirts. It was Sunday, his last day of the weekend before he had to return to work. He could wear something casual, today. Something stretchy. He reached up to grab one of his largest oversized t-shirts, when the app said in his ear…

“What about that one?”

“Which one?” asked Dylan, his heart sinking before he hastily added, “Coach?”

“The pink one…three shirts down. To your left,” said Hermes.

Dylan looked. It was one of his favorites—or former favorites. A bright pink one that complimented his tan skin tone and once drew attention to his rugged good looks and fit, muscular body. Ashamed by the results of his newfound eating habits, he hadn’t even tried it on since he had gained the weight.

“I…I’m not so sure I would fit into it, Coach,” said Dylan.

“But it’s one of your favorites, is it not?” asked the app.

“Uh, well…it used to be…” said Dylan. How did he—or rather, it—know that?

“Before you blimped up, you mean,” said Hermes, smugly. Dylan didn’t know what to say. “Oh, go on. Try it on. What could it hurt?”

Dylan obliged, removing the shirt from its hanger. He stalled by taking time to pick one of his stretchier pairs of shorts, a light cream khaki pair that would complement the vibrant pink. It would still be insanely tight on him, he knew. But at least there wasn’t the risk of him popping a button in public…hopefully.

At last, the time came. As quickly as he could, Dylan wriggled his body, first into the shorts, where he found some considerable trouble tugging them up over his rear end and then struggled for a couple minutes to locate his button, which was caught beneath his doughy stomach. When at last he got his fly zipped, he could see his belly, a round white sack of voluptuous fat, straining against the waistband. Oof, he thought internally. I look fat as fuck.

Then came the shirt. It wasn’t much of a struggle to slip over his head. But the rest of it was a feat. He managed to get both arms through the tights sleeves and was about to start rolling it down the rest of his body, when the A.I. Coach interrupted.

“Listen,” said Hermes. Dylan groaned internally. What now? he thought. “Dylan. I want to draw your attention to something. Go ahead and take a look in the mirror.” Dylan did as he was told, moving over to the mirror leaning against the wall. “I think it’s pretty remarkable how all your fresh fat accumulated in your body. In such a unique way, wouldn’t you say?”

“Uh…sure, Coach.”

“Now, go ahead and finish putting the shirt on.” Dylan did so, unrolling the pink fabric down his chubby body. His man breasts took up so much of the space and jiggled with nearly every movement of his body. “Hehe, well, we’ll certainly have to do something about those ‘pecs’ of yours, wont we?” Dylan blushed. He tugged the shirt further, covering the rest of his chest, his upper torso, and finally the bottom of his shirt landed just above his navel.

“See…” huffed Dylan. “It doesn’t fit…”

“I can see that,” drawled Coach Hermes. “Wow! That fat stomach is even pudgier than I thought! I figured you would at least be able to cover your whole belly! No matter…”

“No matter?” exclaimed Dylan, indignant. “Coach, I can’t go out looking like this!” he glanced at himself again. He looked like the Pillsbury doughboy crammed into a Ken Doll outfit; all his dough exposed in all the wrong places. So much—too much—of his thighs ballooned out from his shorts and his stomach and love handles were exploding up over his waistband. It wasn’t even cute…

“Sure, you can go out like that,” purred Hermes. “It’s 2023, isn’t it? There’s that whole body positivity movement and whatnot? And it’s summer! Crop tops are all the rage!”

For fit jocks with six-pack abs, thought Dylan.

“Go on…” said Hermes, “Daylight’s wasting! And you haven’t even had breakfast yet! I know you’re hungry, aren’t you big boy?”

He was. His stomach was already growling at him. It was past ten o’clock and by now, he would usually have walked down to the local bakery and would already be stuffing pastries into his face. But he was a regular there. Of course, the baristas knew him and they already knew he had gotten fat. In fact, they had been some of his main enablers, always offering him treats, extra coffees that were made incorrectly; thick Frappuccino’s, new baked goods they wanted him to try. Especially that tall, fit barista who always wore the beanie; a muscular beauty with beautiful tattoos that covered the ginger brown skin on his arms. Xavier could always be counted on to coax a newly-made frosting into Dylan for him to try.

Dylan looked down at his belly, the light white strip of fat protruding in front of him, obscuring his toes. What would stop someone from simply poking him in the belly? From poking fun at him as he waddled by?

“You know what, Coach,” said Dylan. He smiled as he reached down to the bottom of his shirt, crisscrossing his arms as he prepared to yank the thing up over his head. What was he doing, anyway, listening to an automated device? He could make his own decisions! “I don’t think I will be wearing this out in public.”

“Oh, no?” said Hermes.

“No,” said Dylan. “Not today.”

“Suit yourself,” said Coach Hermes.

Dylan did, and he began to pull his shirt upwards, to yank it off his body.

Just then, a sensation coursed through his body. It emulated from his wrist—from the watch that accompanied the earpiece and contact lens in his head—and spread in an instant through his arm, up his chest, and across his nervous system. For a second, his body was illuminated in a sharp, hot flash. Stunned, he gasped, rendered petrified, unable to move. And almost as quickly as it had begun, it was over, and he collapsed against the edge of his bed in a plump, heaving, sweaty mess.

“That was a mild shock. For your defiance,” said Hermes, as cool and as calm as ever. “Defy me again and you will see increased consequences. Is that understood, Dylan?”

“Y-yes, Coach!” Dylan whimpered.

“Very good,” said Hermes. “Now, let’s get some shoes on and get you some breakfast…”

Within minutes, Dylan had his shoes tied, a backpack strung across his back, and was treading out the door towards the café.

The shock had been enough to keep him in line until he got out the door. He didn’t remember it being on the contract. But then, he hadn’t really read the contract. He’d just pressed his thumb on it. Still, his coworker, Diego hadn’t mentioned anything about it, either! Maybe he’d just forgotten. Or, maybe, he’d never tried to tell his own fitness app ‘no.’ At any rate, Dylan understood why the designers would integrate a failsafe like this into the device. It was certainly an effective deterrent, if a cruel one. But, perhaps there was a way to get it uninstalled. He would have to ask Diego…or even call the software store, if it came to it.

“Hehe, out of breath already, are we?” teased Hermes in his ear. He was only a couple blocks from home. He hadn’t realized he was panting. And he wasn’t even walking that fast. He had been so focused on trying to keep his arms in front of his belly, to cover as much of his fat tummy as possible. It was driving him wild, the jiggling of his belly, the way it quivered, left to right, up and down, every which way with every step. Trembling and exposed, for the entire city to see.

Dylan did his best to steady his breath as he walked the remaining blocks. “I never seem to understand how you humans can get so out of shape without realizing it. Based on my observations, you put on…am I correct in estimating seventy-five pounds…since the start of the pandemic?”

“Yeah…” huffed Dylan. “Something like that…Coach…”

“Fascinating…and you never realized what was happening to your body? How much weight you were putting on? How you no longer fit into your clothes anymore?”

“I didn’t own a scale at the time,” was all Dylan could think to say.

The A.I. paused, not saying anything for a moment. And then, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to make sure to keep you in steady supply of the necessary equipment, won’t we fat boy? Ah, looks like your big belly’s in luck! We’ve arrived!”

They had. The familiar green door, covered with advertisements for local meetups and music and fun stood closed before him. He leaned forward, drawing in a breath, and pressed. The familiar scent of coffee, hot breakfast sandwiches, and pastries filled his nostrils. He looked around. Not many regular customers—no one he was super familiar with—and none of the friendlier baristas. He swiveled his eyes to the other end of the counter and his heart dropped deep into the pit of his enlarged stomach.

There he was. Xavier, shaking a metal cup of something. He looked up, smiling as Dylan walked in. “Hey dude!” said the barista, friendly as ever. Dylan returned the greeting. And then he blushed as Xavier’s eyes fell, from Dylan’s face to his navel, where his exposed belly was still quivering from his last step. Xavier’s eyes widened, but the rest of his face remained unchanged.

“Here,” he said, “I’ve got your order right here.”

“Oh,” said Dylan. “But I haven’t ordered yet.”

Xavier looked confused, but in Dylan’s ear, Coach Hermes whispered. “Actually, I took the liberty of ordering ahead for you, as we are behind on time. I cross-referenced your bank statements with the company’s receipts of your orders, as well as the typical caloric intake for your patronage. And then I averaged the results…”

“Wait…this isn’t yours?” said Xavier.

“Oh, never mind,” Dylan faked a laugh, smacking his forehead. “I’m dumb! I literally never order online, so I forgot.”

Xavier laughed, curiously as he picked up the receipt from the stack of food and drinks.

“I’ve got two turkey-egg-and-cheese breakfast bagels, one poppyseed muffin, one blueberry muffin, a cream cheese Danish, and one extra-venti caramel iced macchiato with extra whipped cream on top?”

“That’s the one…” said Hermes.

“That’s the one!” said Dylan, a little too enthusiastic. God, he’s gonna think I’m such a fatass. Dylan blushed, as he reached his hands forward, allowing Xavier to place the bag of food and drink into his thick, extended arms.

“All yours man,” said Xavier. He dropped his voice. “And I snuck in a cookie for you as well…I know how much you like them! Fresh out of the oven!”

Dylan squirmed internally. “Wow…uh…thanks so much, Xavier!”

Xavier grinned. “You’re welcome.” Dylan turned away to find a table. “Hey, Dylan,” Xavier called after him. Xavier turned, raising his eyebrows. “I really like your crop top!”

He couldn’t see himself, but Dylan could feel his face turn beet red. He thanked the barista and then waddled as fast as he could to the opposite end of the café.

“Hmmm,” purred Hermes in his ear. “I think I’m starting to understand part of why you blew up. You’ve been coming in here for a couple years, haven’t you?”

“Uh huh,” muttered Dylan as he began to gulp his drink. It was delicious, but he barely tasted the overwhelm of sugar and flavor on his tongue as he eyes fixated on Xavier’s bulging arm muscles. He imagined those arms, those comely caramel hands, pressed up against Dylan’s cream-colored ones. Like a chocolate-vanilla-swirl ice cream cone.

“You like him, don’t you?” asked Hermes. Dylan said nothing and for once Hermes let him get away with it. “I think he likes you too…”

“Really?” whispered Dylan. He was starting to get looks from the patrons around him. He stuffed the bagel into his face, gulping it down in a couple bites.

“Oh, for sure!” said Hermes. “I don’t know how much longer I’m going to allow you to see him during our training…he might interfere with your progress…but still…it’s nice to be able to recognize your motivations…and your reasons for blubbing up…and look at it this way. At least someone isn’t completely disgusted by the fact that you’ve porked up into a fat fucking pig!” And then the coach laughed, meanly, cruelly.

Somehow, the taunting did not prevent Dylan from eating. If anything, his stomach seemed to have stretched to accommodate the whole of the heaping mound of food before him. As if the teasing made him want to eat his feelings, rather than stop. It wasn’t until he had pushed the last morsel of food; the warm cookie Xavier had snuck into his pile, that the App said, “damn! What an appetite! You’ve eaten almost as many calories as you need for the day! And it’s not even eleven!”

Dylan brushed the crumbs from his chest, his stomach, which jiggled as he did so. “Well, now that we’ve stuffed ourselves silly, are we ready for the rest of the day?”

Dylan gulped down the last sip of his glorified milkshake, the caffeine pumping through his thickened veins. He was anything but ready for a day of teasing and taunting. But, if it kept Hermes from shocking his arm again, he would do anything to keep that sensation from ever happening again.

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” he whispered. “…Coach!”

#bhm weight gain #weight gain story #weight gain sequence #fat bhm #fatass #chubby #teaser #gaining weight #fatty #feedee encouragement #fat belly #fatboy #gay gainer

[animeniacss]

So Close Yet SO Far - Mingyu x Reader - Chapter 4 - A Bitter Pill, A Bittersweet Reunion

Synopsis: Your college friend, Kim Mingyu, has had a grip on your heart since the first day you met. Over the past few years, as you acquired more friendships and memories, those feelings only grew. However, recently, Mingyu has seemed a bit more distant, at least when it comes to any ideas of romance. It only gets worse when rumors fly that he's off to Japan to receive a marriage proposal! Unsure what to do, you wonder how you can keep Mingyu by your side without jeopardizing your friendship or your growing feelings. You never expected that waking up one drunken morning next to two hot angels would be your ticket into Mingyu's heart.

Genre: Romance, College!AU, Modern Fantasy, Comedy, Angsty

Length: approx. 5.8k words

Feat. Mina of TWICE

Chapter 4 -A Bitter Pill, A Bittersweet Reunion

Sunday came and went without anything eventful occurring. You had spent the day watching TV, allowing your hands to finish healing so you could have the bandages off by Monday. The last thing you wanted was for your hands to be practically useless for taking notes. Finals were mere weeks away, which meant the semester was coming to a close. It also meant that if the weekend was coming to a close, then Mingyu would be heading home soon! The idea made you a bit excited, but you had to calm yourself. You had to remind yourself that you were not his girlfriend, and had no reason to be this excited. However, the more you thought about knowing he was here and putting the rumors to rest once and for all, the more your heart was pounding in your chest.

            As the TV played and you sprawled out on your couch, you heard a knock at the door. Looking over, you waited to see if the person on the other end would speak. They didn’t. They just knocked again. Sighing, you stood up and made your way over.

            “Who is it?” you asked. When there was no reply again, you blinked. Mingyu? You thought to yourself. Quickly, you opened the door and flung it open, smiling for whoever it was on the other end.   

            When you saw Joshua and Jeonghan standing there, your smile dropped.

            “Oh jeez.” Jeonghan blinked. “You look horrifically disappointed.”

            With no intention of saying it out loud, you had honestly forgotten these two had miraculously entered your life less than 24 hours ago. With them gone, you spent the rest of yesterday and half of today in blissful normalcy. However, as the duo stepped past you and into the house, you sighed. “Disappointed? No.” you clarified.

            “Well, you looked it.” Jeonghan smiled. “Don’t worry. I can wipe that frown right off your face. We have good news.” Your ears perked up as you closed the door behind you. Resting your hands again them, you felt them still tingle a bit as they continued to fully heal.

            “What?” you asked. You watched as the two men shared a glance. Joshua was the one who spoke.

            “We saw Mingyu, and it didn’t look like he was there to set up an arranged marriage with anyone.” Hearing that made your heart soar in your chest. “We followed him the entire day. He did some shopping, met up with some friends, and it looks like was on the phone with someone when he was back in the hotel.”

            “Which he stayed the rest of the night. No visitors.” Jeonghan made sure to add. Both of them were smiling almost as wide as you were. Knowing that Mingyu really was in Japan for a business trip in his father’s stead just made you feel so much relief.

            “Shopping?” you asked. Joshua nodded. Your mind couldn’t help but race as to what exactly he got while he was out, if anything at all. However, as your eyes fell over to the Statue of Liberty snow globe on your TV stand and the wind chime hanging up by the window to your balcony, you could only imagine what you would get this time. The phone call that was mention replayed in your head as he spoke about the plans he had for the following day. You felt butterflies in your stomach and a part of you was a bit embarrassed at just how giddy you felt.

Just then, when you looked at the men once again, you immediately remembered why they were even telling you that in the first place. You looked down at your hands, a soft cherry red as the palms and fingers still worked on healing the slightly burnt skin. “What does that mean for you guys?”        

            “Well-.” Joshua hummed. “We actually might be able to do all of this sooner than we thought. If he’s not in a relationship, and he already has the intention of coming home, it’ll be easy to help make you happy~.”

            “You already look it.” Jeonghan smirked, pointing to his own cheeks. When you looked over into your mirror, you saw how red and flustered you looked. You covered your cheeks, unable to hide a shy giggle.

            “I worried for nothing.” You admitted. “Jeez. I feel kind of silly.”

��           “Now, we can all relax today until school starts tomorrow.” Jeonghan said. You blinked as the duo took a seat on your couch, satisfied with a hard day’s work as they began watching whatever you had on. You blinked, walking over to them and looking down at them from behind the couch.

            “You’re not…you’re not really enrolling, are you?” The men tilted their heads up to look at you.

            “Of course, we are.” Jeonghan said, very matter-of-factly.

            “Yeah. We actually enrolled right before we all first met, just in case. They said everything should be in order by tomorrow.” Joshua added. You blinked, recalling their presence at the school the night you had met.

            “Wha-.”

            “Will you show us to the registrar’s office tomorrow?” Jeonghan turned to you, playfully batting his eyelashes. You heard Joshua snicker a bit in amusement, also turning to look at you.

            “I might actually be in hell.” You said, sinking down to the floor. The men peered over to look at you, sprawled out on the floor of your apartment. “Do you know what kind of chaos this will cause in school?”           

            “Chaos?” Jeonghan asked. “What chaos?”

🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶So Close Yet So Far🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶

            Your worst fear had come true, much as you predicted. Joshua and Jeonghan had woken you up earlier than you would have liked; two eager children waking their mother up as soon as possible in order to open Christmas gifts. You groaned, sitting up in bed as the duo stood before you, dressed their most casual white fits with backpacks slung over their shoulders.

            “Ready.” They said.

            The second you walked onto campus with the two of them, you heard it. The sound of whispers. The sound of swooning. The sound of every girl in a ten-foot radius being stopped dead in their tracks by the gorgeous men at your sides. How desperately you tried to tune them out, quietly walking with Joshua and Jeonghan to the registrar’s office so both of them could grab a hard copy of their schedules. When you looked over your shoulder, curious as to how the men were handling the attention, you were somehow not surprised at the response.

            Jeonghan and Joshua were walking straight ahead, poised and elegant in their movements. Joshua ran a hand through his hair to make sure none was in his face, and Jeonghan fixed the strap on his bag. You could have sworn there was an almost angelic glow behind the both of them, but you tried to remind yourself that these were the same two morons who had Joshua crawl into your bed the first morning you two had met. It must have been the lack of coffee making your brain think such ridiculous things.

            “You two are such humble angels, aren’t you?” You asked curiously.

            “Hm?” They cocked an eyebrow in confusion. You shook your head as you led them inside the office.

            With schedules in hand and a list of textbooks – which normally students don’t get ahead of time, but Jeonghan once again batted his eyelashes and you watched in stunned silence as the woman at the counter practically offered to order their books right then and there – you all headed out of the building.

            “What’s your first class?” you asked, hoping and praying it was on the opposite side of the campus. Not because of them, but because of the absolute distraction they would cause in any class they were in. So yeah, maybe just a little bit them.

            “Mmmm…Literature.” Joshua said.

            Nope. “Great. That’s my class.” You said. You could basically hear the gasping and sighing girls staring you down as you began walking. “Follow me.” The duo quickly joined up either side of you, and you sighed. “Please don’t entertain the girls the entire class period. I don’t want them staring at us.”

            “Don’t worry. We won’t.” Joshua said simply.

            They fucking lied.

🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶So Close Yet So Far🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶

            Despite their pleading, you prompted them to sit in the far front of the classroom. At least if they were there, all the students would face forward. As everyone shuffled in and waited for their professor, you were quietly skimming a book a few seats away from Joshua and Jeonghan. It was the book you had taken from the library on Thursday when you had gone with Mingyu, and you had barely gotten the time to read it this weekend. Now was no different, however, as you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you turned around, a swarm of four girls leaned down from the next row up. You felt like you were in a prison interrogation with how harshly they were staring.

            “Hey.” You said hesitantly. One of the girls, wearing brunette braids and sharp bangs, spoke up. Jiyoon was always known to be nosey.

            “You need to spill the beans.” She said simply. When you raised a confused eyebrow, she motioned to the two men sitting a few seats down. They were also talking to a group that had swarmed them, a mixture of curious, swooning girls and jealous men. You sighed. “How did you end up being friends with those two hotties?”

            “I’m just helping them adjust to their transfer.”

            “What are their names?” another girl asked.

            “Joshua and Jeonghan.” You said simply.

“Joshua? Is he a foreigner?”

“There’s no way, he totally looks Korean.” Another girl, Jiwoo, said. When she tapped your shoulder, you felt your eyebrow twitch as you looked back over. “Where is he from? America?”

I’m not playing matchmaker if that’s what you’re thinking.” Hoping to end the conversation, you turned back to your seat, opening up your book. “If you want to know so bad, ask them.”

            “I cannot believe you’re gatekeeping all the hot men on this campus to yourself!” Jiyoon said. She was also known to be sassy. You huffed.

            “That is not what I’m doing here, Jiyoon.” You said simply. “They are literally right in front of us, talking to other people.” You pointed to the duo. “Don’t blame me because you’re to shy or whatever.”

            “What? Shy? No.” Jiwoo’s cheeks tinted red. Then, she leaned forward again. “Do you think they’re totally taken, though?”

            “Doubt it.” you groaned. I don’t even think angels can date. You thought to yourself.

            Jiyoon and Jiwoo looked back up at the duo, just as they had turned in your direction. You caught them both smile, waving over in your direction. You sighed, giving a small wave in their direction again. You never thought you would be so happy to hear your professor enter the room, the entire class going silent as her footsteps clacked along the floor.

            It was the same in every other class you shared with the duo. It was the same in all of the hallways, down all of the paths, and even at all of the study spots you and your friends usually attended. You were making your way to one now, knowing Minnie, Hoshi and Seungkwan were most likely already there waiting for you.

            “We’re going to be late.” Joshua pointed out.

            “We would have been on time if your newly formed fanbase let us walk out of the history building in peace.” You pointed out, tugging your hair up into a ponytail to give the back of your neck some much needed cool air. You could still feel to suffocating pressure of girls pressing their way to the three of you just minutes ago, each trying to talk to the men and learn more about them. “What are your names?” What are you majoring in?” “What made you transfer?” “You’re so handsome!” It was like a ping pong match of compliments in your head.

            “Human girls are so…impure.” Jeonghan said. Joshua nodded in agreement. You immediately looked at him.

            “Huh?” he laughed a bit. “You’ve been chatting them up all day, and now you want to act all angelic?”         

            “Excuse me, I’m always angelic. Thank you.” He said simply, playfully nudging you. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as the three of you continued to walk. In the distance, you saw your friends at a nearby table. The idea of having more people to help balance out your morning felt like a blessing.

            Then, you saw Hoshi stand up, and immediately flash his tiger paw greeting as he shouted out “AAAAAAAAAAAAH! HELLO!!!!!!!” Jeonghan and Joshua’s eyes widened in surprise at how loud the small guy’s voice was. However, they were unable to controlled their amused laughter.

            “Here we go.” You laughed to yourself. As the three of you sat down, once again, nearby people began gawking at Joshua and Jeonghan. However, they remained focused on you and your friends as they gathered together. Minnie was already studying in a book, Seungkwan was typing away on a computer, and Hoshi was eating a snack, wiping crumbs off his face as he caught his breath from his incredibly loud greeting.

            “Finally, you made it. How’s your first day been?” Seungkwan asked, mainly towards the men sitting across from them.

            “Fine.” Joshua said.

            “Busy.” Jeonhan added.

            You saw your friends looking at you, most likely waiting for your answer as well. “Great.” You said. I did not take long after for the group of you to quietly start studying. Joshua and Jeonghan had taken out their book from literature, and you – reluctantly- offered to help them catch up. You had no idea why they were taking the role of college students so seriously. However, as you glanced up at them, watching the duo follow along with the current chapter of the book, you simply shrugged it off as a way to keep the boredom away. What else are they supposed to do while I’m at school all day?

            As you let the men go off on their own allowing you to get your own studying done, you looked down at your phone. It had been pretty silent all day today, apart from texts from the group making plans to meet here after class. No word from Mingyu. You sighed, turning your phone over and hoping to get a few minutes of studying done before time was up. However, it became very hard when your ears wondered to the conversations of others around you.

            “I can’t believe she’s been with them all day.”         

            “What about Kim Mingyu?”

            “Right? I could have sworn those two were dating.”

            “No way. You think?”

            “I heard he moved away to get married.”      

            “What? No way. I don’t believe that.”

            “I do. He hasn’t been back yet. It was so sudden.”

            “Even so. He leaves for one weekend and she shows up immediately with two hot men on her arm? If I were Mingyu, I would be so upset.”

            You immediately closed your book, alerting the attention of the rest of your friends. You stuck it into your backpack, and zipped it up.        Without a word from anyone, you rose from your seat and looked at Joshua and Jeonghan. Both looked up at you with confused expressions on.           

            “I told you it would be chaos.” You said simply. Before you allowed them time to respond, you immediately headed off down the path, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

            “Hey wait-.” Jeonghan tried to call to you, but Minnie was already up and chasing after you.

            “Let Minnie handle it.” Seungkwan said to the obviously confused men. “She’ll be okay.”

            “I think she’s upset because Mingyu isn’t back yet.” Hoshi added. “Don’t take it personally. She’ll come back like nothing happened.” Hoping what the duo said was true, the angels decided it was best to stay put, and not aggravate you any longer. If they followed with a trail of fan girls in their midst, it would only allow things to get worse.

            Jeonghan decided to take this time to ask the male duo a very important question: “So.” He leaned forward, alerting the duos attention. “As new friends and assumingly your very admired Hyungs, we have a question for you.” Joshua, despite being a bit confused, leaned forward with Jeonghan, elbows resting on the table.

            “What?” Hoshi asked, setting his snack down.

            “What is the relationship between the two of them? Mingyu and-.” He motioned in your direction. Seungkwan looked over at Hoshi.

            “They’re totally in love.” Seungkwan said simply when he looked back at the older duo.

            “So, they’re dating?” Joshua asked.

            “No, but when you see them together for the first time, you could totally believe they were. The way they look at each other is kind of…” Hoshi trailed off as he tried to think of the right word.

            “Disgusting.” Seungkwan said quickly. Hoshi nodded.

            “Disgusting.” He repeated. Joshua and Jeonghan glanced at each other. “But recently, Mingyu’s been acting kind of weird.”

            “How?” Jeonghan asked.

            “He gets kind of weird when people tease him about dating. He used to brush it off and laugh or something. But he’s not like that anymore.”

            “People think he’s being forced into blind dates by his father, to find a future wife.” Seungkwan added.

            “Has he ever said so?” Jeonghan asked.

            “No.” Seungkwan said.

            “Why so interested, Hyung?” Hoshi eyed the duo, eyes landing on Joshua before asking: “You guys think she’s cute or something?”

            Joshua laughed quickly. “No, not at all. It’s just that she speaks so highly about him all the time. And it seems whatever was said just now upset her, so…”

            “That’s fair.” Seungkwan said as he turned back to his computer. “Don’t worry. When Mingyu-Hyung comes back, it’ll all be sorted out.” Joshua and Jeonghan spared one more glance behind them, but you were long gone, most likely for the best.

🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶So Close Yet So Far🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶

            By the end of the day, you were more exhausted than usual. Even when the duo weren’t in any of your classes, people kept asking about them, wanting to know all they could. You tried to avoid it, but how could you when you were surrounded by curious minds.

            “Did Mingyu tell you when he’s coming home?” One guy asked, known for playing casual games of basketball with Mingyu in the gym from time to time. You sighed, closing your book and looking over at the guy.

            “No.” you sighed, desperately hoping not to have to ask the same question again.

            He almost looked offended at your sassy remark, but you were so numb to the answer you could care less. “Oh. I figured if anyone on campus did, it might be you.” He turned back to his friends. You heard him mutter: “Yeah, she has no fucking idea.”

            “Shocker.”

            “Maybe he really did go then. I wouldn’t tell my girlfriend back home if I was leaving the country to get hitched.”

            Opening your book, you tried to distract yourself from the chatter right beside you. The classes were almost over for the day, the sun starting to set. Yet, still there was no message from Mingyu. No update on his arrival home. I thought Jeonghan and Joshua got the idea that he was coming back home. You thought to yourself. There’s no way they were wrong. Right? You flipped the page of the book, resting your cheek in your hand as you did so. They’re angels. I’m sure their divine powers or whatever make it so

            I’m sure he’ll call back when he’s able. You said. There was no way that Mingyu of all people would simply blow you off, especially when he made an effort to call you each night that he was away thus far. Also, you had to remind yourself of one thing.

            You were simply his friend. What did you have to get upset for?

            Just as the sun was being pulled down beyond the skyline, you made your way out of the building of your last class. You were exhausted, looking forward to returning home for some dinner and a nice, hot shower. Immediately, you saw Joshua waiting for you. You sighed, walking over to Joshua. It looked like he had something in his hand.

            “Are you okay?” He asked curiously. “You left so fast this afternoon and we haven’t heard from you.”

            “I’m fine…” you said softly. You looked around. “Where’s your posse?”

            “Oh, I think we managed to get them to leave us alone for today.” Joshua said.

            “I meant Jeonghan.” You smiled a bit. Joshua chuckled.

            “He said he was going to head back to the apartment and start dinner so you didn’t have to.” He said simply. You felt your heart beat just a bit faster at the idea of a meal waiting at home, and you smiled. Joshua seemed to realize something, because he handed you the thing in his hands. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a strawberry milk from one of the vending machines. “Seungkwan said you liked these. I thought it would be a nice pick me up after today.”

            You didn’t hesitate taking the milk, looking up at the brunette angel. “Thank you.” You poked the straw through the top, and took a long sip. The sigh of relief that left your lips made Joshua smile.           

            “I apologize about today.” He said.

            “No worries. Nobody can resist a pretty face. I’m sure everyone will calm down eventually.”

            “Hah. Yeah. I meant more so that Mingyu wasn’t here like you had hoped.” He saw you look down at the milk, clutching it tightly in your hands. A bit of it bubbled out of the top, splattering against your finger. Joshua stepped closer to you. “He’ll come back. He has to. No person worth his salt would just up and leave to another country without giving some kind of a warning eventually.”

            “I guess so.” you had to admit that Joshua made sense with that statement. Joshua smiled when he saw you went back for another sip, sighing in relief at the cool sensation it left on your throat. “This is so good.” Joshua smiled, motioning to your lip.

            “You uh-.” Following his movement, you felt a bit of milk left behind on your upper lip. You couldn’t help but laugh.

            “What a way to end the day, hm?” you asked between giggles. Joshua smiled, nodding as he motioned for the two of you to head back home, changing the topic by discussing what Jeonghan could possibly be making for the two of you.

            As you looked up at the stars dangling overhead, you hoped that somewhere, a plane was flying beyond the clouds, making its way back to Korea.

            You didn’t realize how right you would be in that thought process.

🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶So Close Yet So Far🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶🐶

            “Jeonghan, you absolutely need to cook more often.” You said, finishing up a bite of your breakfast. The three of you were heading back to campus the next morning. Not as early as Monday, but early enough that the idea of getting out of bed made you want to turn to dust instead. Jeonghan seemed to yawn just at the thought.

            “No way. Cooking makes me sleepy.”          

            “But you’re good at it!”

            “That’s why I get sleepy. All the effort tires me out and I have to sleep.”   

            “You’re so dramatic.” Joshua sighed behind a giggle. You chuckled as well, wiping your hand on a napkin you had brought with you. As you made your way onto campus, you heard people start whispering and muttered to their friends in small groups once again. You shook your head, ready to brace another long day of answering student’s hopeless questions about the new students. How long would they keep this up?

            It wasn’t long before your worst fear came true, and a handful of girls pulled your attention. They began bombarding you with new information about the duo, hoping you would have the answers. “Guys, I’m not their mother.” You clarified, shocked it even needed to be said. “I know just as much as you.”

While you were warding off the fangirls, right by the gates of the school, a man was resting his back against the wall. He was looking down at his phone, typing away at something as his bag draped loosely off his shoulder. He was wearing a light blue tee shirt with a graphic design on it, and a pair of jeans with tennis shoes. Joshua and Jeonghan took a look at his features, seeing familiar soft black hair and dark eyes that they saw eyeing up keychains only a few days prior. Both of their minds immediately trying to decide the best course of action possible on how to handle this. When they turned to you, they saw you preoccupied by a few nearby students. They could hear your voice drowning as you tried shooing away as many girls as you could. Just then, Jeonghan’s eyes sparkled with a plan. He turned to Joshua, a slightly mischievous grin on his face.

“Follow my lead.” He said softly. Before Joshua could register his friends request, he was shoved back a few paces. He stumbled back. “Back off. I said I would walk her to class.”         

Joshua had to refocus himself for a second as he eyed up Jeonghan, who stood with his chest puffed. Even his attempts to look tough came across as delicate. He hoped for a quick nonverbal cue of what was going on. When Jeonghan eyed you, who had not yet noticed what was about to happen, Joshua nodded. He stepped closer to Jeonghan, shoving him back.

“I asked her first.” He said simply.

“Well, tough. She doesn’t want to walk with you.”

“And she wants to go with you?” Now, the raising of their voices alerted your attention, especially when the girls you were talking to practically spun you around to see what was going on. You watched as Joshua shoved an angry Jeonghan back, only to be shoved back in response.

“What the-?”

“I think they’re fighting over you.” One girl gasped.

“Lucky~!.” Another swooned. You rolled your eyes, walking over to them. “What’s going on?”

The duo pretended they couldn’t hear her. “Why do you have to get your way? You’re not that special.”          

“Tch.” Jeonghan snickered. “What, do you love her or something?”

“Do you?”

Mingyu looked up just then to see the scene going down just a few feet away. He stepped closer, quietly observing the situation before deciding what to do. He had seen many a squabble over a girl before, and knew usually they fizzled out quickly. However, when they duo stepped back from one another, his eyes widened in shock to see you standing between them.

“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” you asked. You stuck your hands in between them to prevent anymore childish shoving. “You’re causing a scene.”

“Hear that, you’re causing a scene Joshua Hong.” Jeonghan sneered. Joshua dramatically flared his nostrils and Jeonghan had to chew the inside of his lip to hold back a choked laugh.

“I think it might be you causing the scene.” He said. As you stepped between the both of them, pushing them apart, Joshua looked down at you.

“You both are! What’s with the fighting all of a sudden?!”

“I want to walk you to class but Joshua is being selfish, yet again.” Jeonghan said. He immediately put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to him. Joshua frowned, and Jeonghan only grinned. “Have fun walking alone, Joshua.”

“Hey-.” Before Joshua could step any closer, another, much larger hand was stuck in front of all of you. All three of you had to look up at the face of the person interrupting this impromptu fight. When your eyes locked on his face, you felt a shaky breath escape your lips.

“Mingyu…” you breathed. Mingyu looked over at you.

“Who are these guys?” he asked. Immediately, Jeonghan dropped his arm from your shoulder and stepped back. Joshua did the same. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You assured. Mingyu looked at the two men.

“You two should know better than to worry a girl like that in public. That’s shameful.” He said simply, frowning at both of them.

“Uh, it’s fine. They’re friends.” You said frantically. Mingyu looked shocked by the sentence, so you had to explain further. Motioning to them like a prize on a game show, Joshua and Jeonghan smiled a bit. “New students. They just transferred here and I’m getting them adjusted. I’ll apologize for them, just let it go.” When you bowed to Mingyu, the men saw a lopsided smile form on his face.

“As long as you’re okay…” he said gently. He shot one more unamused glare at the two men. They had to admit, seeing the daggers Mingyu’s gaze shot at them was enough to make their hair stand on ends.

            The crowds began clearing away when it was clear no real fight would be breaking out any time soon. The whispers still lingered as the crowds dispersed, however. Joshua and Jeonghan slid beside one another, one hand behind their backs as they secretly gave one another a high-five. You didn’t notice with your eyes practically glued to Mingyu. “You didn’t tell me you’d be back today. I thought it was yesterday.”

            “It was. My dad’s jet broke down and I ended up taking a super last-minute flight back. I was so tired I crashed the rest of yesterday when I got home.” He sighed. “I meant to text you in the group chat. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

            A smile formed on your face. “I’m just glad you’re back. Everyone on campus has been wondering where you were.”

            “Oh?” He asked. “Come on. You’re being dramatic.” You laughed a bit at his nervous reaction.

            “You have to tell me all about your trip over dinner.” You said. “You promised.”

            “I didn’t forget.” He said simply. “Pick the place and the time. I’ll make it happen.” You nodded your head.

            “I totally see why Seungkwan said we might think they were dating.” Jeonghan whispered to Joshua. He immediately nodded.

            “This really is going to be easy.” The duo grinned at the thought, already picturing the green symbols popping up over your contracted hands.

It was then that you heard the sound of your friends approaching, Hoshi eagerly shouting out to Mingyu, glee exploding from his entire being at the sight of his friend. Mingyu turned his head, immediately matching his friend excited energy as the duo hurried to one another, gripping their hands together and cheering in excitement to be together again. You turned to Joshua and Jeonghan, who were simply acting as bystanders as they watched your friend group reunite.

            “How was your trip?” Seungkwan asked.

            “Good, but I’m glad to be back.” Mingyu assured.

            “You have to update us.” Minnie said, and you smiled at her repetition of your request. The group of you began walking. Joshua and Jeonghan watched you turned your head, motioning for the pair to quickly hurry up before they got left behind. They did just that, falling right behind you. Mingyu seemed to notice, and despite being unamused, distracted himself with Minnie’s request.

            “I caught up with some friends, saw some of my father’s business partners for him. I haven’t been to Japan since Christmas so it was nice to go in the warmer weather.” You felt Hoshi nudge you, and when you looked over, he gave you a thumbs up. You nodded, returning the thumb up and smiling. “I got a ton of really cool clothes and some new books.” He pulled up his phone. “And I took some great photos at the cherry blossom festival. Here.” As he scrolled, you felt your heart beat speed up just a bit. Mingyu showed some photos of himself in a clothing store, taking mirror selfies of himself in lots of different name brand suits and casual wear.

            “Oooo, how handsome.” Seungkwan teased as he peered closer. “Definitely a good choice.”

            Jeonghan and Joshua shared a glance with one another. They had no idea how or when Mingyu usually approached his tradition of giving you a gift from his travels. When they looked over at you, it seemed you were waiting for the same thing. Jeonghan had no problem asking.

            “Did you get souvenirs?” he asked Mingyu stopped walking, looking over his shoulder.

            “Hm?” he asked.

            “You know, souvenirs.” He asked. “Whenever someone goes on vacation, they get souvenirs.” Mingyu seemed to think for a second, rubbing his chin.

            “Hmmm. No, actually. I didn’t.” he said simply. “I was way too busy, I guess I forgot.” Without missing a beat, he turned back around and continued showing his friends the photos.

            Joshua and Jeonghan looked at one another, eyes now wide. You looked over at Mingyu’s photos, then up to him.

            “You didn’t get any souvenirs?” You asked. Mingyu looked at you.

            “No, I didn’t. I only have the ticket from the festival that they made.” He said. Without missing a beat, he pulled out the ticket. It was a beautiful pink color with cherry blossoms floating all throughout it. You smiled up at him.

            “That’s so cute.” You said.

            Meanwhile, as you and your friends continued walking, Joshua and Jeonghan kept back. They waited until you were close to the building that housed your first class of the day, then turned to one another.

            “Where’s the keychain?” Joshua asked, still keeping it in a low voice.

            “I have no idea!” Jeonghan gasped. “He did buy the key chain, right?”      

            “We watched him do it!” Joshua agreed.

            “I thought she said that he always bought her gifts.”

            “I thought so too! But he said he bought nothing.” Joshua and Jeonghan looked back over at the group, all of whom had stopped walking so Mingyu could finish showing off his photos with his friends. They immediately locked eyes on your face. Despite having a small smile, you looked just as confused and upset as they did.

            I think she’ll love it.

            Mingyu’s words send dread down the spines of the heavenly beings as they realized that somewhere, they fumbled the very heavy and very important bag needed to get themselves back into the gates of heaven. Looking at one another, they realized their expression was riddled with the same emotion.

Panic.

“...Who on earth did he give that key chain to?” The angels asked in unison.

            Their simultaneous panic attack was interrupted by a low – sounding airplane that was flying overhead. It seemed to grab all of their attention, as the group also looked up at it as it flew overhead and out of sight shortly thereafter. Jeonghan and Joshua simply looked at one another, then up to the plane as it flew through the sky, getting smaller and smaller as it did so.

            This might actually not be as easy as they thought.

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#seventeen #kpop fanfiction #seveteenfic #reader insert #mingyuxreader #mingyu x reader #seungcheol #jeonghan #joshua #wonwoo #woozi #jun #jihoon #junhui #hoshi #soonyoung #kim mingyu #mingyu #dokyeom #dk #seokmin #the8 #minghao #seungkwan #vernon #hansol vernon chwe #dino #lee chan

[george228732]

Fylass Through the Looking Glass - Chapter Thirteen - Days of Reconnection

Fylass, again, woke up in cold sweat, not being the first time they have died in a dream, but there’s something about the dreams regarding Wonderland that feel oddly real regarding that topic. Nonetheless, they were back into the world that was supposedly truly theirs… Although, at this point, they didn’t want to think about that… 

They tried to recollect what happened in the real world; Wonderland was a place that they had on their priorities, more than their own personal life, and at this point, they thought that was somewhat pathetic. 

Nonetheless, they needed to think about what to do today.

"...Sigh. Er… What even happened yesterday? My brain feels so fuzzy…" 

They took away the pendant they had on their sweater, and placed it on the closest drawer they could find across their room, and they went outside just to have some fresh autumn air. It wasn’t until they looked outside, that they remembered just exactly what happened; the bags of groceries were in their mailbox, along with a note that was right beside them.

"I apologize for hurting you this way. I genuinely wanted to help you; it’s just that… It pains me that you hurt yourself too. You have a lot of people that love you, and we would give up everything just so you can be happy. Lucid invited you to spend more time at their house this weekend, if that’s to your liking.

Please, forgive me, Fylass. I hope you forgive me soon…

-Ades"

…

Fylass was… less than happy to see that letter, not because they’re mad at Ades, but because they thought they were too cruel and childish the last time they met him right at that recreation of the Alivel Mall; not that Fylass knew where the first location was, but that’s not important at the moment. 

They placed the groceries inside the fridge with great regret, and when they were done, they sat on the couch to think about what to do now…

"...Oh Void above, I am so stupid! Why am I like this…?!" 

Fylass pondered what they could do at the moment, but either way, they could only think about calling Ades back out of pity and embarrassment… They went towards their landline to call Ades, Lucid or anyone that would be wanting to answer....

Time passes, and no one seems to pick up.

Fylass was starting to get desperate; only to find out that anyone is hardly even awake at these hours of the morning. If the dim light of the outside didn’t make it clear, the sun was only just rising. It’s sure that everyone was asleep.

"...Oh…"

The kid wondered if they should go back to bed, but oddly enough, they didn’t feel tired in the slightest; they could maybe start doing chores around the house to kill time. They cleaned themself, they made the house tidy, they made some breakfast, and they finally looked at the calendar. It was there when they realized what day it was.

Archie’s comeback is today.

"Oh dear! I am even more stupid! How could’ve I forgotten about this day?!"

Archie was known to be a very busy Waddle Dee, constantly leaving Popstar to find interesting discoveries in other planets; he was studying to become an archeologist, after all. He occasionally came back home to relax with Fylass and his other friends, but he always did it on very specific days, in which he would stay for a while, and unfortunately, this was one of these days, and Fylass was less than prepared for his comeback.

They pondered on what to do, and after some minutes of thinking, they thought that maybe doing an apple pie would be the best idea for him, and so, Fylass started to work on their gift to their loved one. Good thing that Ades and the rest brought them their groceries that they left at the mall…

They still feel regretful about leaving them like that, before…

As they were making the pie, it felt as if the place was getting colder; autumn was no joke, after all… No matter, though, since Fylass was determined to finish this for Archie. After a lot of decorating and careful making, the pie was already in the oven, as they looked at the outside. It was cold, but very pretty.

"...I may take a walk…"

Fylass waited for the pie to be ready to get out of the oven, and as they placed it on the fridge, they took a shower and wore their winter clothes; they like the cold, but they don’t have the best immune system in the world…

When everything was settled in the house, the kid opened the door and left Cookie Country to take a stroll across Popstar; sadly, they were a bit ashamed to go to Ades’ House, Buddy’s Castle or the Halberd though, so they could maybe go to Green Greens to appreciate the scenery as they waited for Archie to come down to Popstar.

There weren’t many people on the way there, which Fylass sorta appreciated; although, they couldn’t help but feel alone amidst the few people that were around. Sure, they have friends, and gained a sort of new family for them, but even then, they still feel so, so alone.

No matter how hard they try, it seems like there’s no progress for them. They thought that maybe telling their friends and family their many struggles would make things easier, but turns out, that only made the weight of their mind so much harder to carry, and sadly, they didn’t let anyone help them carry that weight with them due to those same struggles.

Not that it matters now…

Soon enough, they reached Popstar’s most well known area; Green Greens, right at the center of Dreamland, and even if in these times of the year it isn’t green at all, it still keeps that charm around. 

Fylass looked for a nice place to sit down, preferably next to a lake, or something of the matter; to keep things more serene around their head, of course. Although, the little bluebird didn’t really expect to see someone else they knew deeply along the way, much less being someone that wouldn’t even open an eye at these hours, that person being none other than Celesta Knight herself.

"...Wha…?"

Fylass remembered the last time they saw her, yesterday, and by what they could observe, she wasn’t doing well, and by closer inspection, it was clear that Celesta wasn’t doing any better today, either. They felt bad for her, not only because she’s clearly troubled, but also because Fylass promised the pseudopuff that they would’ve checked on her yesterday, a thing that couldn’t be achieved due to the bluebird not being in the best state either.

Fylass, begrudgingly, came closer to her to check on her state, to see if atleast, she didn’t feel as bad as the last day.

"...H-Hey, Celesta…!" They spoke up first, trying to open up a conversation.

Celesta clearly didn’t notice Fylass next to her, so she flinched when she heard them, although she quickly calmed down when she realized that it was just Fylass coming to say hi, or atleast, she thought it was that.

"O-Oh, hello there, Fylass…!" She replied in response after adjusting herself to this.

"...Feeling better than yesterday…?" 

"Well… not really… It all feels dizzy… And at this point, I am not sure if it is literal or figurative."

"...You dreamt of that world again?"

"...Yeah. It all felt more bizarre, though; I saw a bigger version of me, seemingly causing some more chaos around the area. I saw a dark looking bell in an abyss too… It all feels more fuzzy than the last dream I had… I don't even want to sleep…"

Fylass was clearly worried about Celesta’s safety and well-being, and if they were worried about her yesterday, those same worries only increased, but besides worry, Fylass also felt deep confusion as they pondered about her dreams…

It surely isn’t the same place, right? It’d be impossible for that to be true… Yet…

"Oh dear… I am sorry I couldn’t do much about it yesterday…" Fylass remarked to the pseudopuff.

"...D-Don’t worry about that. I am sure you are still dealing with… those issues. The others told me that you weren’t very happy yesterday."

Fylass felt surprised she at least had the idea of what happened yesterday regarding them; the others apparently encountered her when they got out of there, and told her some things regarding the encounter… Fylass was now embarrassed.

"N-No! It’s okay… I am fine…!"

"...Hey, er…" Celesta didn’t really want to be rude or offend Fylass in any way, so she wanted to be careful with her words. "Your friends are kind of worried about you, so… would you like to give them a call?"

"Well, I tried this morning, but it was too early for any of them to be awake; I was pretty surprised that I found you awake at these hours, even..."

"Yeah, it’s… odd for me to not be asleep now, isn’t it?" Celesta chuckled.

"I-I guess…!" Fylass, now questioned if they should go back home to call their friends and family. In any other case, Fylass would decline that possibility, but now, they felt that it could be a better idea to deal with this now. 

"...I-I think I’ll get going. I hope you’ll do well, Celesta."

"Thanks, the vet hopes the same."

…

The area was pretty and all, but the bluebird had other things to do, and the first one of them all, was to apologize for all the fuss that happened the last time they and their family were together. Consequences might come later, but those aren’t important now.

After yet another stroll through Dreamland, they got to their house yet again; Fylass didn’t know why exactly, but it looked brighter than before, and surprisingly enough, not because of the sun. They got to their landline, and started calling again, with the hopes that someone might get the call.

Many didn’t pick up, probably still asleep, but two of them did answer the phone.

"Hm? Who is this?"

"...Hey, Ades."

"Oh, Fylass!" There was a pause after that, but the call quickly started again with its course. "...Feeling good today?"

"...Y-Yeah. Surprisingly enough…"

"...I-I am glad to… hear that…"

"...I am sorry, Ades."

"Sorry? For… For what?"

"Sorry for acting so wild back there. I don’t know what got to me at that moment, but I deeply regret it… Please, forgive me."

"..." Another pause was made. "I should probably be the one that apologizes to you. I shouldn’t have… Y’know, dipped my hands into something I had no agency with. I was just worried about you."

"...I guess we both did wrongs… But hey, I… I get why you would act like that towards me, since you didn’t know I wasn’t… in the best position around the area, haha…" Fylass made a pause too. "It’s just that… I sorta feel like I deserved that, for my wrongdoings and such."

"Fylass… I think I told you this already, but you did nothing wrong. If I was in the same position as you back then… I would have probably done the same, if not something much, much worse…"

"...Yeah, but… those were people too."

"People that had it coming, Fylass. If you didn’t do something about them, who knows what kind of immense trouble they might have caused not only you, but the entire universe as well."

"...Well… I guess there’s some truth in that…"

"Oh course there is…!" Ades said, chuckling. "...Hey, Fy."

"...Yes?"

"You wouldn’t mind me and the rest coming to your house tomorrow to spend the day, right?"

"Oh…! I… That’d be nice."

"Well, that’s settled then! We’ll be there tomorrow morning; the others are asleep right now, but we both know that they would love the idea too."

"O-Okay then! I’ll be waiting, and I’ll leave everything ready…!"

"Attaboy! See you tomorrow then!" Ades was clearly relieved on the other side of the call, and in all honesty, Fylass was too.

"See you tomorrow…!" Fylass hung up.

They felt very relieved to see that things ended well for them and Ades, although that wasn’t the end of the calls, for they needed to call some others.

Some others indeed were called, but apparently, they still were asleep, but someone else answered the last call Fylass was gonna make for the day.

…

"...Hello?"

"Hey, Lucid."

"Kid?! Oh dear, how are you?!"

"I… I am fine…! Don’t worry…"

"...Are you sure? The others told me what happened yesterday, and I couldn’t help but to be worried sick about you!"

"Yeah… I don’t really know what happened to me to say those things and run away so sporadically… Although, even if I am still embarrassed by that, I don’t feel that bad."

"Well, that’s a relief! I was actually planning to visit you today!"

"...Oh, really?"

"Indeed! Many of us love you, kid! And we wouldn’t bear you getting or being hurt! Especially me!"

"...Well… I am glad to hear that, seriously."

"...I can still visit you today, if you want."

"Well… Could you do it tomorrow, please? The others are going too, and I am sure they will be more than glad to have you here as well. Besides, Archie is coming today, and it’d be kinda awkward to get any more visits in the meantime."

"Oh, that’s completely understandable, kid, don’t worry!"

"Ah, haha, thank you for understanding…"

"I hope you do well for the rest of the day! Buddy and Crowny might go too if the circumstances are correct! Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah…! That’d be lovely…!"

"Okay then! See you tomorrow!"

"...See you tomorrow…!"

Fylass hung up again, being the last time they were going to call someone for the rest of the day.

The kid was slowly starting to feel tired, so they went towards the couch, and like it was nothing, they closed their eyes for a quick nap. Compared to the last day, this one felt a lot brighter.

…

Time passes. Not a dream, not a nightmare, just time passing.

…

Fylass woke up thanks to the sound of their door being knocked, and at this point, Fylass knew exactly who it was.

The kid got up from the couch and went towards the entrance door, and by opening it, they saw the person they were expecting most for a while.

"Hey, Fylass! It’s so nice to see you again!" Archie said, still with that attitude so characteristic of him, excited to see Fylass again.

"Oh, Archie…! I am so happy to see you!" Fylass got closer to Archie and hugged him as tightly as they could; they loved each other deeply, of course. Archie was deeply empathetic, and constantly called the bluebird whenever he was away and had the chance to do so, and now that he was here, he planned to stay.

"So! What did I miss?"

"...Not much, to be honest." Fylass lied; they didn’t want to bring Archie down by depressing statements coming from them, so it maybe was for the best to not say much things regarding that, at least for now.

"Well, that’s relieving! That means I can make things more interesting for me and you, right?" Archie exclaimed, holding Fylass’ hand in the process.

"Ahaha, I guess…! I… I really missed you, Archie." 

"I missed you too! Deeply." 

"Sit down on the couch, let me prepare you some tea along with some pie I made for this occasion!" Fylass said as they pointed at the same couch they took a nap not too long ago. Archie seemed really happy on hearing that, and so, he did as such.

Minutes later, Archie was met with a recently made slice of apple pie along with a cup of tea on the table that was closest to the couch. 

"Here you go!" Fylass said as they grabbed their own slice and cup of tea, and sat right next to the Waddle Dee.

"Thank you, Fy…! I really wanted to eat one of your pastries for a while!" Archie said as he started eating his slice.

"I am very glad you think that, Archie…! It makes me very happy to have you around here, really…" Fylass said as they patted his head. "How did your journey go?"

"Oh! It went pretty well! I had a lot of fun, for sure. I learned how to make campfires, and such! I also investigated more about some of the artifacts my friends didn’t have much idea on how they function! I think that not even you knew about some of these."

"...?" Fylass was very curious about that statement. "Oh, really? What artifacts?"

"Well… You know that Club Shaped pendant I gave to you a month ago?"

"...Y-Yeah, I do. What about it?" Fylass’ curiosity transformed into a feeling that they couldn’t describe well with only words, but they were still intrigued.

"Oh, you want me to explain it fully?"

"...Yeah, I am curious."

"Oh! Alrighty then!" Archie left the rest of the slice on the table, and prepared for the explanation.

"...The Club Pendant is an artifact capable of storing energy through the dreams someone has while wearing it, with the purpose of manifesting those dreams physically in another plane of existence."

"...E-Excuse me?" That statement left Fylass with more questions than answers; what did that mean exactly regarding their situation?

"Well, basically, the pendant can make someone’s dreams come true if it has enough energy beforehand. Although, it’s very uncommon for that to happen, since it’s constantly storing energy for that. It normally triggers with people that have strong emotions, and when that happens, their dreamscape manifests physically in another plane. It basically takes the "Dreams come True" too literally. Afterwards, the person that uses the Pendant will be transported into that same Dreamscape."

"..." That left Fylass shocked. Did that mean Wonderland was actually real? Or was the pendant still storing energy for it to trigger? They now were wondering if they should tell this to Archie, since that could maybe end up with him knowing his situation way too early than they wanted.

"...Any other questions?"

"...N-Not really."

"...Are you okay, Fy?"

"I… I am still processing that, haha. Guess I kept giving the pendant more energy." Fylass said.

"Oh! You slept with the pendant? That’s nice! It could maybe lead for it to finally manifest a dreamscape!" Archie came closer to Fylass and kissed them on the cheek. 

"...Y-Yeah! …Putting that aside, though… You should relax after a long month outside of Popstar! Your parents know you’re here, right?" Fylass said to clear off their mind after such a statement.

"Oh, don’t worry. My parents know, and they even let me stay here with you for the day! Would you like that?"

"...Wait, really?! No, I wouldn’t like that! I would love that." Fylass was quite happy to hear that, after that explanation.

"It’s settled then!" Archie shared Fylass’ happiness.

Fylass and Archie were now spending the day together as they wanted. From cooking, to garding, reading to watching the butterflies across the area. It all felt really serene for both.

The bluebird had always desired for moments like this with their lover, but besides that, Fylass felt… uneasy, and a bit troubled. Archie sometimes noticed and supported them how they could, which would be enough proof that Archie wouldn’t be mad for Fylass’ situation, yet, there’s still that voice inside their head telling that won’t be the case, which led to the kid slowly diving through lakes of despair.

It didn’t matter, though… At least Archie was here.

Soon enough, the day became the night, and it was time for both of them to sleep.

"...Aaaalllright then, I had a lot of fun today; thank you, Fylass…" Archie said as they took off their hat, yawning.

"I also had a lot of fun…!" Fylass said as they opened the door leading to the bedroom, which had two beds on the sides. Soon enough, both were ready to fall into a cozy slumber.

"...Goodnight, Fy…" Archie said, struggling to stay awake.

"Goodnight, Archie…" Fylass remarked afterwards, as they saw Archie closing his eyes.

"..." Fylass looked across the room, looking at the pendant on the drawer. Archie had other questions regarding Fylass’ usage of the pendant, but all answers weren’t that surprising. For Archie, atleast.

Fylass used their ESP to bring the pendant to them. 

"...Could it be… real…?" Fylass was nervous on the answer, but they knew that they needed to figure it out, for the wellbeing of both Wonderlanders and Underlanders… If they are even real, at least.

The kid placed the pendant on their sweater, and also fell into a cozy slumber.

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

@lucent-nargacuga

@loaflovesdoodling

@lostsoulau-ask

@galakianexplosion (CLUB SHAPED PENDANT)

#fylass in wonderland #fylass through the looking glass

[whump-me]

Obscure: Chapter 5

Chapter 5 of Obscure, novel-length interrogation whump about a rebel leader who can erase memories with a thought, an interrogator who can see inside his subjects’ minds… and the connection they share that neither of them suspects.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the completed novel on Patreon

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Elias

The guards in their dark gray uniforms brought him back to the same room the next day. Same chair that poked at his bony thighs, making him constantly shift in a vain attempt to find a respite. Same stale smell of bleach and dust. Same light chill, like someone had turned the air conditioning down a few degrees too low.

The guards hadn’t given him an opportunity to use his power. They kept their eyes carefully averted, and neither of them had said a word. Not surprising. He wasn’t likely to get a chance with anyone else besides Kirill. Whatever the man did to spark the flow of memories from Elias’s mind to his, it created an emotional connection—a two-way connection, the kind Elias worked best with. The strength of the connection, the ease at which he had slipped into Kirill’s mind, had surprised even him. The connection created by Kirill’s power was as good as a late night spent bearing their souls to each other. Maybe more. Maybe as good as having known each other for years.

Kirill walked in a few minutes later. His pale eyes were bright and clear, with none of the haze they had contained when he had stumbled out of the room yesterday. The only difference was a new hardness around his eyes, a new tightness in his jaw.

He was wary around Elias now.

It wasn’t that much of a surprise. The obscuring usually wore off quickly, as soon as the person ran across a reminder of what he had forgotten. The stronger the obscuring, the stronger the reminder had to be, but Elias hadn’t had a chance to build a wall that thick.

And of course, no matter how surprisingly strong the emotional connection, Elias didn’t have the broader knowledge of Kirill that would have let him obscure a broader set of memories.

In the bunker, Elias usually had people tell them about themselves. That let him map the landscape; it told him where to build his impenetrable walls of fog. He always told them ahead of time what he planned to do—that they would forget the life they had known, and remember only the danger they were running from. It meant they couldn’t give themselves—or him—away as easily.

It left them with less to grieve.

Some were reluctant at first. He never did it against their will, if they remained set against it even after listening to his reasons. Not with their own memories, at least, although he insisted on removing himself from their minds. Most people, though, came around to understanding the necessity.

He tried to give them all the time they needed to grieve what they were about to lose. He understood the necessity of grief.

Kirill settled into the chair across from Elias with the grace of an unhurried jungle cat staring down his prey. “Where did we leave off yesterday?”

Elias raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask me about my power?”

“Why would I need to, when I’ve seen it firsthand? You cause temporary amnesia. Useful.”

“Not always temporary.” With a wintry smile, Elias held his gaze.

“If you could cause something more permanent, you would have done it. I’m not worried.” Kirill met him smile for smile. His gaze was as cold as Elias’s own.

“Not yet. But the more time we spend together, the more I get to know you, the more effective my power will be. Every minute you spend in this room with me puts you at more risk.”

If Elias’s words worried Kirill, he hid it well. “I’m not here for you to get to know me.”

“It shouldn’t have worked as well as it did the first time,” Elias said. “Something about your power makes you vulnerable. Are you sure you want to keep using it on me?”

“You’re stalling,” said Kirill. “We were talking about how someone you knew joined us.”

“Not joined,” Elias corrected. “Joining is a choice.” But that, of course, brought up an old ache from an older wound. A boy’s hand clutching his. A wall of fire.

Kirill’s eyes unfocused. Elias took a deep breath. He stared down his grief until the ache receded.

“Someone was recruited young,” said Kirill. “A child. But there was someone else. Someone older. Is he the one who joined willingly? If so, he made the smart choice.”

Elias concentrated on his breathing. He focused on holding the door to his grief shut. If it blew open, it would be that much harder to close it again.

“The child was probably grateful for the opportunity eventually, no matter what you’d like to think,” said Kirill. “You believe in loyalty to your fellow Enhanced because you share the same genetic fluke. It doesn’t even make you family, you know. It’s like having red hair and thinking that means you need to be loyal to every other redhead on the planet.”

Elias exhaled his flare of anger. No memories surfaced.

“How well does loyalty pay?” Kirill asked. “The child, whoever he is, is probably thanking his lucky stars he didn’t grow up in that run-down farmhouse.” His eyes glinted. “But he wouldn’t have grown up there, would he? This was before the farmhouse. Before Laina. Before you went by Elias Kitzner. What happened to the redheaded woman? Did she leave you? Did she blame you?”

Elias breathed in. He breathed out.

“Maybe she was right to blame you,” Kirill said. “How hard did you look for the child before you gave him up for dead?”

The memorial service. Lisbeth screaming her protests. The memory was as clear as if he were standing under that gray sky right now, the clouds pregnant with rain that refused to fall. He had remembered this yesterday, too. Kirill must have seen it in his memory. He was deploying it against him now on purpose. Mining his memories for emotion.

He didn’t let that thought make him angry. Anger would let Kirill in as easily as grief.

He held Kirill’s gaze as Kirill’s eyes unfocused. He felt his own face go still with concentration as he slipped into the other man’s mind. Kirill’s already defocused eyes turned cloudy. His mouth hung slack.

Elias sat back and waited.

Kirill shook his head slightly, like he was coming out of an unexpected sleep. “I… I’m sorry,” he said, his voice newly vulnerable. “But I don’t remember who you are.” He looked around with the dazed expression of a child who had fallen asleep in the car and woken up in bed.

“You took a wrong turn,” said Elias. “You’re supposed to be out there.” Elias nodded toward the door.

“Thank you,” Kirill said in the same dazed tone, and started to rise.

His phone buzzed. He jerked in surprise and sat back down hard in his seat. He pulled the phone from his pocket, staring at it like he had no idea what it was.

As Kirill stared at the phone screen, the haze vanished from his face. What looked back up at Elias, his eyes were sharp again.

He pointed to the phone. “I set it to remind me what I’m doing here every five minutes. That’s the maximum amount of time your power will buy you.” He gifted Elias another wintry smiled.

He slipped the phone away. Then he leaned across the table, hands laced together, his face so close to Elias’s that Elias could smell what he had for breakfast. A fruit smoothie—raspberry, maybe. Incongruous. Maybe a girlfriend had made it for him, a boyfriend, a spouse. Elias tried to imagine this man kissing someone with genuine warmth. He couldn’t.

Elias wanted to lean away from him. He didn’t. The physical gestures of fear would let the feeling of figure in. And fear, in turn, would let Kirill in.

“The Red Spring Killer,” Kirill said. “He spent almost a year in custody before the police found out where he had buried his final five bodies. The evidence against him was incontrovertible, but he refused to reveal those details, purely out of spite.”

“I followed the story,” said Elias mildly, wondering where this was going.

“I’m the one who got the information,” said Kirill. “He never did name the locations. He didn’t have to. I plucked them out of his head on a wave of fury.” He made a pinching motion with his fingers. “I could tell you other stories. Names you know. Names you should be glad you don’t know.”

“You don’t have to impress me with what you can do,” said Elias evenly. “I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Emotion is an elemental force. It arises on a gut level. Some people are good at forcing their emotions down where they don’t have to deal with them. Some people even mistake that for inner peace.” His eyes, pale as moonlight, met Elias’s gaze and held it. “Does that sound familiar?”

Elias held his gaze and said nothing. Those eyes, clear as they appeared at first, were opaque at the core. It would be easy to fool himself into thinking he was staring into a clear pool of water with nothing to hide. But at the bottom was only a flat white wall.

“But human instincts won’t be denied.” Kirill leaned in a little closer.

Elias pulled back despite himself. Kirill’s lips twitched upward in an almost imperceptible smile.

“When someone is talented at swallowing down their anger or denying their grief,” said Kirill, “fear is the most reliable way in. Fear belongs to the body, not the mind. Fear will come, whether or not you will it.”

Elias took a slow, steady breath. He stared into those flat eyes and forced himself not to look away.

But the memories unspooled despite himself, and when they came to him, he knew Kirill was seeing them too.

Hiding under the bed as a child at a crack of thunder, while Mama Kelly and Mama Charisse and Mama Jessie all laughed downstairs, seemingly oblivious to the storm.

Footsteps in the darkness as he crouched under the window inside an abandoned building, beside a woman whose name he had forgotten by now. She had been one of the first people he had tried to rescue on his own, before he had formed his network.

The ring and ring and ring of the phone as he tried to reach one of his people who had gone out of contact.

The heat of fire on his skin. The tightness in his chest, not just from the acrid burning of the smoke, as he swallowed the fear down for Max’s sake. In his memory, he willed the fear away, knowing he couldn’t afford it when he had Max to take care of. But fear lived in the body. Fear would not be denied.

He clawed himself up out of the memory like a drowning swimmer straining for breath. Kirill was using fear because it was all he had. Because disgust hadn’t been enough, or anger, or grief. If Elias could fight the fear, Kirill would have nothing.

He blinked away the remembered flames. Stared into those pale, unfocused eyes.

He threaded his way into Kirill’s mind on the deep connection the shared memory had created.

Kirill should have listened to his warnings.

Kirill sank back into his chair. His eyes went hazy, his face slack. His hands rested on the table like dead animals.

His eyes came back into focus slowly. The haze remained. “What am I—”

His phone went off. He reached for it as if in a dream.

He stared down at the screen. Clarity returned. He tucked the phone away and narrowed his eyes at Elias. He rubbed his temples.

Elias answered with a thin smile.

It was a temporary solution at best. But a temporary solution was still a solution. Kirill’s intimidating demeanor was gone, and with it, all but the last whisper of Elias’s fear.

Fear couldn’t be denied, but it could be bargained with. Elias had earned himself a few more minutes.

He braced himself for Kirill to lean in again, to loom over him, maybe make a few well-targeted threats. Anything that would make the fear return and start up the flow of memories again.

But Kirill’s face was all warm concern now. The change happened between one breath and the next. Even those gray looked softer now, and a gentle light filled them.

He was nothing but an actor. But he acted well. He could change himself without saying a word.

“Your wife must be missing you,” he said, his voice as full of warmth as his eyes. It was false warmth, but even knowing better, some deep part of Elias wanted desperately to be convinced.

“Does she know enough to guess who might have taken you?” Kirill asked. “Will she imagine everything we’re likely to do to you? Or have you left her in the dark all this time? Is she ignorant enough to swallow the story the police give her, and hold a funeral for the corpse we’re passing off as yours?”

Elias had been prepared for fear. This was a dagger strike slipped in under his guard. It sliced through his defenses like they were nothing, and memories bled from the wound.

Calling down a darkened street for a cat that had gotten loose.

 Sitting at home alone, waiting for Lisbeth to come home as the sky grew darker and darker. Holding her goodbye note in his lap. Praying she hadn’t meant it, that she would change her mind, that she would call him from her mother’s house and beg his forgiveness.

Sitting alone in a room with mold-streaked walls, staring down at his hands and wishing he could feel Max holding them tight. There was no one to hold on to him now, no one to take care of, no one to anchor him. Alone. Alone. Alone.

“Well?” Kirill’s soft voice, warm but insistent, broke through his memories. “Does she know?”

The memories changed.

Sitting across from Laina at a candlelit table, the dessert menus open in front of them, soft classical music playing from a speaker hidden in the wall. The engagement ring heavy in his pocket. He had to tell her everything first, before he asked his question. It wouldn’t be right otherwise. But to tell her would be to for her to know he had kept something so important hidden all this time. To tell her would put her in danger. He closed his mouth. He brought out the small box that held the ring.

Staring out the bedroom window of the farmhouse, across the orchard, to the square of sod that had been taken up and replaced while Laina was away visiting her sisters. Would she notice the almost undetectable seam in the grass? Would she investigate, and find the newly built bunker? Would she think he was a serial killer luring victims to his underground lair? That might have been easier to explain.

“She has no idea, then,” said Kirill, and Elias understood what Kirill had done with his soft question.

“You were trying to protect her,” Kirill continued. “She’s probably already mourning you, then. Will that be easier for her than the truth would have been, I wonder? Death is a more final loss, but… well, you know what PERI can do. Maybe it’s better for her that she doesn’t.”

Sick dread curled in Elias’s stomach. He saw a body, pale with death, a seam running down his torso where his captors had cut him open. His body sagged inward in the places where PERI had removed the parts they wanted. The body smelled sterile. It smelled like Elias’s cell in this place.

He took a deep breath. He stared into Kirill’s eyes. Kirill tried to look away—too late. The path into the other man’s head was familiar already.

Kirill’s eyes fogged over. This time, Elias only had a few seconds to feel satisfied at the look of childlike bewilderment on his face before the phone buzzed.

Elias didn’t bother watching the life come back into Kirill’s face. He knew what happened next.

“Laina will be all alone,” Kirill continued once he was himself again, as if there had been no interruption. “No one to help her keep up that orchard. The two of you never even had children. She has no shoulder to cry on. No one to protect her in that big house. We won’t come after her, but a woman alone—”

He stopped. Elias knew why. The memories were already coming, fast and thick, until he couldn’t even see Kirill in front of him anymore.

They had started flowing as soon as Kirill had said child.

A wrinkle-faced baby with dark, dark eyes. Lisbeth with dark circles under her eyes and a tired grin on her face, holding the baby close with one arm and motioning him in with the other.

A pudgy toddler setting his foot wrong, hurtling headfirst toward the ground. A sharp wail. Blood in Elias’s mouth as he bit his lip.

A boy on his lap, smelling of chocolate and fresh grass. He was so heavy—when had he gotten so heavy? A cake in front of him, five candles flickering. Make a wish, Elias’s own voice urged. His tone was melancholy. Five years old meant five years gone, five years with his son that he would never get back. Time hurtled forward relentlessly—he had never understood quite so well as when he had become a parent. Before long, his son would be grown and gone, leaving only memories behind.

Elias had been more right than he had known.

The sharper memories came, the ones hidden behind the door he never opened.

Pacing back and forth in front of the door as the clock turned to four, then five, then six. Lisbeth had called him home from work. The school had assured him Sammy had gotten on the bus. The police said they would do everything they could. But it wouldn’t come to that, Elias knew, because it was a mistake, it had to be a mistake, some miscommunication they would laugh about later. Sammy would walk in the door at any moment…

Then the memorial. Lisbeth screaming in protest. Elias had known by then. Known Sammy wasn’t really dead. Known what must have happened to him. Known he had to play along, to grieve his son’s supposed death, so he wouldn’t disappear along with him. So he could stay alive to find him someday.

He never had.

He hadn’t told Lisbeth the truth, either. He had told himself it was he was afraid of hurting her. Really, he had been afraid of losing her. After all, the cursed gene that had made his son so valuable had come from him.

He had lost her anyway, because she had blamed him anyway. Maybe she had seen his guilt, no matter how much he tried to keep it from her. Or maybe what she had seen was the way he had closed off from her, sealing himself away along with his secrets.

Either way, she has been right to leave.

And Elias had finally found himself glad for it months later, when they had come for him. Maybe his quiet inquiries into his son’s disappearance hadn’t been as quiet as he had thought. Or maybe PERI had finally figured out where the gene must have come from.

Elias tried to claw himself to the surface before the memory could come, but it broke over him like a wave anyway, and the undertow sucks him under. Nighttime. Lying awake, staring at the ceiling, picturing Sammy’s face and how it might have changed in the months he had missed. Then the creak of the front door. Footsteps on the stairs. Elias opened the window, staring down at the moonlit yard too far below, gauging the odds of the drop. Praying.

He had survived.

Elias Kitzner had been born a week later, in a back alley that reeked of week-old fish. He smelled it now, saw the man with his scraggly gray beard as he handed over the paperwork that made up Elias Kitzner’s life with a wordless grunt.

The man had looked disreputable, the venue more so. But Elias still remembered the lessons of his youth on the run. He knew how to spot a con artist, and how to recognize a genuine expert.

He had chosen well. The ID had held up for fifteen years.

Elias took a deep breath. The memory clawed at him, unwilling to let him go. He stared it down, and when it only dug in deeper, he delivered a mental right took to the monster that was his grief.

Most of the time, he could show empathy to the part of himself that had become that forlorn creature. Right now, he didn’t have the patience.

His grief let go enough for him to take another deep breath. Enough for him to bring himself back to the sterile-smelling room and the chair digging into his thighs.

Enough for him to catch a glimpse of Kirill’s milky eyes through the memories that swam past his vision.

He latched on to the sight of Kirill like a life preserver. He slid along the greased rope that was the connection the shared memories had created, and slammed into Kirill’s consciousness. No gentleness. No subtlety. Just a thick white fog laid down around Kirill’s memory.

He stared down at his hands and tried not to picture Sammy.

He was unsurprised when Kirill’s phone buzzed. He didn’t look up to watch Kirill’s memory come back.

In of his peripheral vision, Kirill shook his head, like he was having trouble ridding himself of the last of the haze. “You’ve given me a lot to think about for next time,” he said, his voice almost unnoticeably weaker than it had been. He steadied himself against the table and stumbled toward the exit.

Elias had gotten to him that time. Gotten in deep. The strength of the memory had made for a stronger obscuring. What he had said hadn’t been a lie. Kirill’s power made him more vulnerable to Elias’s own somehow, although Elias didn’t understand how that worked.

It would have been easier to take Kirill’s departure as a victory if not for those parting words.

Was Kirill bluffing, trying to convince Elias he was leaving for a reason other than his fuzzy memory?

Or did he remember what he had seen of Elias’s son?

And if he remembered… was it enough to use against him?

He didn’t know how Kirill would do it. Only that he would.

---

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