#cerulean (true colors) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arinbelle · 5 days

Text

Moments V

A/N: I’ve been working on this fic for over a year and I’m so happy it’s done. I really wanted this conversation to happen right after the Blood Rite or even after Nyx’s birth but alas. So anyways, here we are.

@nestaarcheronweek

Moments Masterlist

~*~

Part V: Shackled

Nesta surveyed the cerulean gown, fingers gliding over the satin before turning away. It was a silent rejection, one of many, and he moved out of the way as the tailor pursed her lips but replaced it with a red one.

Cassian had come with her to help her pick out a dress for her sisters and Emerie to wear at their mating ceremony, but after the tenth one he was beginning to feel antsy. It wasn’t that he minded the small boutique, hidden amongst stores selling sweet caramels and cakes, or fresh bread and spiced meats. He’d been here before, rather, he’d been wrangled over with Mor and Amren, even with Azriel to find gifts for the females he never brought to meet them.

It was Nesta’s neither here nor there look on her face that had him apprehensive. She’d been deemed fully healed and back at her full strength three days after the Blood Rite and so preparations for their Mating Ceremony had taken over immediately. She’d doled out the responsibilities the night before; Mor on decorations from whatever colors and schemes Nesta already had in mind, Elain and Feyre on the guest list, Azriel to set up security parameters, and Amren to confirm with all the vendors they bought from. Rhys was of course the master fund for all expenses, to which Nesta had agreed to with a sly smirk.

Yet today, their first day out together since everything had been settled, to find dresses and taste cakes, was proving to be difficult. If it had been a case of true dislike, or perhaps indecision, Cassian wouldn’t have minded. But Nesta had never been an indecisive person- she knew what she preferred and it never took her long to get what she had in mind. So he knew something was wrong when she’d given her silent or quiet rejections to the various cakes and dresses and flower assortments.

“That’s alright,” he finally decided to cut in, before the boutique owner began laying out another collection of dresses. “We’ll come back another day. Thank you for your time today.”

The boutique owner didn’t seem to mind, likely happy to be rid of them, and he bade her another farewell while ushering Nesta out.

“We weren’t done,” Nesta said when they were finally a few paces away from the shop. “I need to get things done today if the ceremony is in a few days.” A risky timeline for a wedding ceremony, let alone a mating one that was as extravagant as they’d planned it to be. But he ignored that.

She had pulled herself out of his grip, crossing her arms in the middle of the cobblestone street, staring him down with that familiar fire. He’d missed it these past few days but had attributed it to exhaustion from the Rite or nerves from what she’d endured. And he’d stayed silent about it too. Perhaps stupidly, perhaps warily, but he’d kept quiet, even when the dejected look on her face seemed to be worsening with each passing day.

“We’re not getting anywhere right now. How about we take a break and come back another day, Nes?”

She didn’t move so he reached out his hand, waiting. Always waiting. Something was wrong but she’d speak when it was time. Until then, he was fine to walk with her in silence for however long she needed.

A few breaths passed but she finally loosened her stance, moving closer before grabbing his hand. He pulled her in tight, wrapping an arm around her waist before moving them down the street. She allowed it and he pressed a kiss to her crown before ushering them towards a juice stall with a long line.

She looked up at him, a small smile gracing her beautiful face. He traced the curve of her lips, the slope of her nose with his eyes, taking in the beauty. He might have been staring too long as a lovely blush colored Nesta’s cheeks and she shoved his face away.

“Stop that,” she snapped, but there was no bite to it.

“Never,” he promised, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheeks before changing to another line that was selling something that smelled tempting each time the wind blew past it.

”If you were hungry you could have just said that,” she huffed, but it was all amusement now.

He thought about it, taking a few steps forward as another order completed ahead of them.

“Fine, yes, I did want to eat,” he admitted, ignoring the smirk she sent his way. “But I had us leave because it wasn't getting anywhere. You didn’t want to be there so why suffer through it.”

She stiffened in his hold and he knew he’d probably struck a chord. That hadn’t been his intention, but he cursed himself silently. Sometimes his honesty got him into more trouble than he asked for.

They were silent for the rest of the line with Nesta only speaking to the vendor and ordering fried potatoes with cheese and a mint lemonade.

”No, I don’t want fish, thank you,” she spoke quickly, cutting her eyes at him as he made to speak. She rolled her eyes at him as he paid, thanking the stall owner before grabbing their food.

”You could use the protein. We’re going back to regular training in a few weeks,” he called behind himself, knowing she’d have something cutting to add. He delighted in it, teasing her incessantly about her huffy dislike of all the things he tried to get her to eat.

“And you could stand to skip it,” she said sweetly, with nothing kind in her smile. She reached for her plate and popped a wedge into her mouth before continuing. “I mean truly, I don’t know what they’re feeding you, Cassian. You don’t need any more muscles to ogle at.”

He chuckled at that. “Don’t you mean more muscles for you to ogle at.”

Her eyes narrowed but she shook her head emphatically, finally giving into the banter he’d so desperately been trying to distract her somber mood with.

“It’s embarrassing honestly, all the staring I get when I walk around with you and your wings hulking behind me. The size of you is scaring the poor citizens of Velaris.”

“You don’t seem to mind the size of me most days. And nights. Especially nights,” he added with a wicked grin.

She blushed, breaking her gaze from his own, snickering quietly even as she stared out at the harbor.

“You’re an idiot,” she finally settled on, mouth twisted in a wry half-smile.

”You still laughed,” he pointed out, poking her cheek as she swatted him away.

They ate in peaceful silence, until a restless urge overcame him and he couldn't keep it in any longer.

“You're not happy.” It was an observation from the past few days. Her face, her mannerisms, her behavior all had him more worried with each day.

“What?,” she asked, startled at his words.

He tried again, grabbing aimlessly for better words to get through to her.

“Doing all this I mean. I don't have much experience as a bride of course, but I think you're supposed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I am,” she protested quickly. Too quickly.

“I am,” she tried again, but it was quiet and a far more obvious lie this time than he was used to seeing from her.

“I just mean, your heart doesn't seem to be into it. Do you not want this ceremony?”

There he had said it. It had been a concern he'd toyed with for the past few days but he's convinced himself there was nothing to it. That he was imagining it. But he'd said the words and Nesta hadn't jumped to deny it. In fact she'd gone silent, looking everywhere but at him.

“We should go,” she finally said, her food half uneaten, lemonade completely untouched. “It's getting dark.”

And that was that.

She seemed to be waiting for him to finish his food but he found his appetite wholly gone then. It was a quiet, painful walk back to the House of Wind and an even worse flight up. Nesta did not look at him, did not dare to meet his eyes, and he found himself secretly relieved. He didn't want to know what he'd find should she look up at him. Disappointment or anger or perhaps both.

Nesta broke away from his hold too quickly for him to not notice it and grimace. But something held her back, one foot in the terrace they’d arrived on and one foot inside the House, and Cassian watched expectantly.

”Can we talk?,” she asked softly, looking back towards him. Something was stirring in her blue-gray eyes and it gave him pause and a moment to reconsider. But something within him told him to agree, and go forward.

He took the few steps to reach her and placed a kiss at the back of her head. “Always,” he promised.

She led him to the smaller alcove they sometimes used to have lunch in between trainings. It was a cozy room, with a fireplace they no longer needed in the blooming heat of summer, and two plush armchairs facing each other.

Cassian sat, stiff and uncertain, but he did it. She settled in across from him and to an unpracticed eye they’d see her move as elegantly as ever. But he saw the faint tremor in her hands, her gaze, the nervousness in all of it. And it set him on edge.

”I didn’t want an audience,” she started. “Out there I mean,” she nodded to the terrace and the world that lay below them. “We’ve done that before and I don’t want to get into another screaming match over the Sidra while all of Velaris watches.”

So it would be that sort of talk. He had to agree though. It wasn’t his finest moment and considering they were extensions of the royal family, it didn’t represent them all very well by public opinion.

Nesta played with an errant string on her shirt, fidgeting with it until he cleared his throat. She met his eyes then and he was terrified of what he saw. Before he could brace himself for whatever blow she was about to land, whatever hit-

“I think we should cancel the mating ceremony.”

The room was suddenly suffocating him. Hot and wretched air seemed to be all he could breathe in and the walls were definitely closing in around them. There was no way he’d heard her correctly.

“What?,” he blurted out.

Nesta’s stricken face told him he hadn’t heard anything wrong and his worst nightmare was in fact turning true. Silence laid waste in the space between them, and the longer it went on the worse he felt. Nauseous and overheated and jumping out of his skin.

“It was your idea,” he managed to bite out.

“I know…,” she sighed. “I know and I’m sorry-”

”Sorry…,” he chuckled, but it was cold. Flat.

He shut his eyes, trying to reign in his temper. It had no place here, he knew that, not when she was trying her best to talk to him as calmly as possible. He knew she was going through something, had known for the past few days. Angry as he could feel himself getting he knew it would undo any progress they had made in the past year. Maybe all of it.

“Okay,” he started again, opening his eyes and taking in her guarded pose. “Can you…tell me why?”

“I don’t want to fight,” she whispered pleadingly. He heard it, the tremble in her voice, and it broke his heart that she was this upset.

”We aren’t fighting sweetheart. Talk to me.”

Nesta curled up on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her satin dress, and her arms seemed to be holding her together.

”I don’t think it’s a good idea. To have the ceremony.”

”You don’t want to be mated,” he summarized, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of his voice. Or perhaps it was desperation.

”No. It’s not that. I mean,” she met his eyes, some of the tension gone, to his relief. “We are mated. Technically. I just thought about it and the ceremony is official. I mean, we’re having the priestesses come in to bless it. I know all about that Cassian. It’s serious. It’s ordained by Prythian’s magic, the land’s magic. It is binding.”

Cassian scoffed. “And you don’t want that.”

”No,” she snapped. “I think you don’t.”

Before he could protest the shocking assumption she moved on, a hand shot up to halt him and whatever he had to say.

”My parents were a love match. Did you know? It was so rare where they’re from, so everyone in their families was against it. But they loved each other.” Her eyes narrowed in contempt. “It was supposed to solve everything. Should have. But when I was growing up, I know what I saw. Resentment and anger and frustration. They were stuck together and they hated what they’d become. My father loved my mother, and I think she loved him in her own way, but they weren’t good for each other, in the end.” She shook her head at the thought. “ And I see that now, far more clearly than I did when I was a child. I know how it happens and it never starts off obvious or grim. It starts off like this.” She motioned a hand between them.

“We are not your parents,” he pleaded, not even sure where this was coming from.

”We don’t know that,” she stated flatly. “And I don’t want you to wake up one day, ten, fifteen, two hundred years from now and realize that we want two very different things.”

”Nesta-“

She spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear it. So soft yet laced with heartbreak. “I don’t want you to resent me. And I never want to hold you back.”

He shook his head emphatically, hoping she understood. “Never. You could never do that. That is not us. Wherever this is coming from, whatever you’re scared of, that isn’t us.”

“It may be. It could be. It’s different for you,” she explained, shifting in her seat, hands wringing nervously in her lap. He wanted her to just look at him, hold his gaze in that fierce strong way he was so used to from her. But she was so on edge he didn’t know if she even could.

”Explain it to me” he said simply.

”You grew up here,” she tried, hands gesticulating around them. “This world, your world, it tells you these things about the mating bond that I have never heard of. That I can never understand. But I can tell from what little I’ve learned, it is sacred to all of you. It is…” she struggled to find the words.

Nesta stood up then, and he was taken aback by the sudden movement. But he remained seated, focusing his attention wholly on her.

”I loved you,” she breathed out, holding his gaze in a tearful snare. “I loved you from the moment I met you. I knew it was only ever going to be you for me. And that was enough for me. If husband and wife was all I ever got, it was enough for me.”

He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her too. That he’d been so enamored by her from that first moment they’d met, that he’d-

“I have only ever wanted you Cassian. But you, you wanted a mate.”

”No!” He shot up to his feet then too. He had to, to defend himself, to defend them.

Nesta ignored it, lifting her chin in defiance. “I don’t think I can ever live up to the myths and legends your people tell of such a union and the bond. Mates are equals in every sense of the word. We are matched somewhat in power but what else? I am not like you, nor your family. I am not good or kind or honorable.”

“You’re wrong,” he breathed out shallowly, moving towards her. She stepped back and it took everything in him to not howl at the motion. To gather her up in his arms and force her to listen, to see how wrong she was about him, about them, about it all.

“You said it yourself, so many times Cassian. I just never wanted to see it. And your family…,” she scoffed. “They’ll likely never let me forget it.”

”They aren’t a part of this,” he growled. “Fuck them. Fuck them all. All I want is you. Do you not feel the same? Is that what it is?”

”I already told-,”

”Do you love me?,” he demanded. “You told me you wanted a mating ceremony and now you don’t. You also told me you loved me. Or was that a lie as well?”

She lifted her chin in defiance, hackles already rising at the bite in his tone. And just as suddenly as he’d seen her temper spike to match his, it seemed to completely disappear. Nesta seemed to turn inwards, eyes downcast. “You said you’d be shackled to me.”

Cassian’s breath came out of him in a whoosh, and understanding had finally hit him.

“I didn’t mean it.”

”Then you wouldn’t have said it,” she stated coldly. “But you did, and, I can’t even blame you. I would not be my own first choice for a mate, so why would you? Given everything you have heard of this bond, in what reality would you ever want to be with someone like me. I fall flat of all the expectations and I see it and I accept it and that is why I’m canceling our ceremony. You want a mate but you would not have it be me if you had a choice. And I won’t force you into it.”

”Nesta,” he pleaded, hating the crack in his voice. Hating all that he’d done to get them to this point. He’d take it all back, all of it, if only to reverse this moment right here.

Nesta did not wait to hear more, see more, skirts bustling as she hurried out of the room, Cassian reaching his hand out far too late to catch her.

~*~

He would wait it out. That was what he’d promised himself when she’d locked herself away from him. He's convinced himself that he should take a step back, give her some space, and they’d try again the next day. Perhaps they just needed to cool off and Nesta more so than him, needed time to re-evaluate. But that plan had quickly disappeared when he remembered the broken look on her face as she’d reminded him of his cruel words.

Shackled.

It took him back to that night on the bridge. He’d thought to wait out then too, opting to see her the following day when they’d both had time apart. And what had it gotten him? A mate who’d been stolen from her bed in the middle of the night, likely convinced he hated her. And he’d never made it right had he? In all these days together, planning and teasing, joking and smiling, he’d never corrected himself. Never apologized the way he’d rehearsed and planned to as he’d made the flight to Emerie’s house the day of the Blood Rite.

No, waiting wouldn’t be an option today. He’d given her an hour and then made his way upstairs.

He knocked at the door forcing his heart to ignore the soft, muted cries he heard beyond it. If he let himself feel it all as he often did, he may tear down the door itself to get to her. Every instinct in him was roaring to the surface and he barely subdued them.

“Go away Cassian.”

“Please.” It was all he said, all he could say, but something in it seemed to have gotten through to her because he heard a murmur and then the telltale click of the lock. A phantom wind opened the door and blew him in, and he murmured a silent thank you up to the House.

The bed dipped as Cassian seated himself beside her, and Nesta burrowed her head further under the covers.

A tense silence filled the room and he heard Nesta grit her teeth. Cassian shifted closer.

“I didn’t mean what I said-”

“But you-”

“I know,” Cassian cut her off. “I know I did anyways. I shouldn’t have said it at all. It was spoken in anger and, Nes, it was a mistake.”

Nesta didn’t speak but she did remove the covers from over her and sit upright. Cassian controlled the urge to reach out and smooth her hair, the lines on her face and her tearstained lashes.

“I didn’t mean it,” Cassian insisted again, extending his hand towards her splayed out on the bed. She withdrew it sharply before he could react and he swore he felt something shear against his heart. Cut and slice and dice him up inside at the small motion.

“You did.” She may have tried to keep the accusation out of her tone but there was only so much that she could do. And only so much he could ignore. “I saw it in your face. You meant it, Cassian. Don’t make yourself a liar just to make me wrong.”

“I…” Words died on Cassian’s lips and he looked away. “I didn’t mean it in that way though,” he whispered hoarsely.

“What other way is there to mean what you said?,” she snapped.

Cassian got off the bed and turned his back to her. His wings twitched with irritation and he tamped down the urge to spread them to ease this edginess in his bones.

“You’re young,” Cassian’s voice shook when he finally spoke. His hands shook and he interlaced them to calm himself down. “You’re powerful, you’re…so strong, Nesta. So strong. And you could have so much more.”

He turned slightly, dragging a hand over his face, suddenly feeling so tired. Nesta did not speak but her eyes were wide, glistening with something he couldn’t place.

“You could have had a kingdom. Could have been a queen with the power you had.” He shifted on his feet. “Still have,” he added on. “You could have had a prince who would have become a High Lord one day.”

He spat out the words High Lord, not caring if Nesta realized that the ire he felt towards Eris was still strong and present.

“You’re settling with a bastard.” He felt her flinch at the word, but Cassian went on as if he hadn’t seen it. “I have no name to give you and no title to share. You’re shackled to me, and you could do so much better. And I hate that,” he admitted with a bitter laugh, “But it’s the truth. And it’s why I was so angry that night. Because I know all that but still I was hoping I could have you. That I could ever endeavor to be worthy of you.”

“You are,” she insisted, breaking the silence that had built up between them. Her lip wobbled but she didn’t cry. Instead she reached out a hand to him, and he took it on instinct. But he did not join her on the bed, instead falling to his knees before her. Nesta tightened her hold on his hand and he reveled in it. Delighted in that reassurance that no matter what, she was still here, still willing to hear him out.

“From the moment I met you, I was falling for you.” A whispered confession but he’d kept it from her for too long. She was doubting him. Them. And he couldn’t allow it.

“I knew, and my brothers knew, and the wiser option would have been to stay away. You were human and fragile and mortal, and it was never going to end well. And I promised myself I would stay away, but I couldn’t. You were so…,” he struggled with his words. There was a band around his neck and it was hard to speak. But he did it anyways, nearly choking. “You were beautiful, and you were fierce, and loyal and brave. Everything you wanted to keep hidden from the world, I saw it. Nesta, I saw you.”

Nesta blinked back tears, holding her composure far more than he thought he was going to.

“I know,” she whispered, more to herself than him.

”I kept finding stupid excuses to come see you,” he chuckled dryly. “A letter to the queens, a message from Feyre, all bullshit. I just needed to see you because I wanted to know you, all of you. Then you fought with those queens and you defended the humans in your land. And I saw you plead with them for mercy, to help your people, and they mocked you for it- I nearly killed them right then and there. Rhys had to go into my mind and tamp down on me.”

He stopped before he made this new confession. Because it would either fall short on expectations or it would heal them.

”It was then that I knew I was in love with you. You are good and kind and honorable, and I am sorry you don’t see it. You were standing up for those who had no voice. You were courageous, loyal, and fighting for justice and righteousness and innocent lives. It was everything I had spent my entire life fighting for on killing fields and strategy rooms. I remembered how many times my pleas fell on deaf ears. And I knew then, that you were it for me, that I was in love with you, and that we were probably going to die in that war anyways, but it didn’t matter to me because I had found the woman I wanted to spend whatever time was left of my life with. The mating bond hadn’t even registered to me yet, Nesta.”

Nesta was crying now, silent tears streaming down her lovely face and it was all he could do to not reach over and wipe them away. All of his instincts roaring to the surface to cut and kill and hurt whoever had hurt her. Except it was him. He had hurt her, so who was punished then?

”And I will never forgive myself for what happened with Hybern. I promised to protect you and I did everything but. When Hybern threw you into the Cauldron, right before you went in, you looked for me. In a full room of your sisters you were looking for me, just as I have always been looking for you.”

Nesta nodded, confirming what he’d always suspected. It was the bond he’d felt between them when she’d been thrown into the Cauldron. She had sought him out in those moments of desperation before she’d drowned in that black water, and he had died a thousand deaths watching her go in, helpless and useless as she fought alone.

“The mating bond snapped, and you went under the surface. I felt you drown, I felt you die, I felt you beg for someone to help you and then I felt your anger when you decided to save yourself and take something back. And it meant nothing to me. The mating bond. I was grateful to it, but all that moment caused you was pain and fear that will likely follow you for your entire life. And I would do anything to take that away from you if I could.”

He lifted her hand, clenched and bone-white in his own, to his lips, and he kissed it savoring the blood and life and warmth he felt under his lips. That she was here with him. Through it all, here she was, this female, borne of darkness and anger and fear and strength and calamity. Still she was here, still she was his, and still she stood tall and proud beside him. He’d never stop marveling at her, at all she was, and all she had survived and fought for to get here.

With him.

Cassian pressed another kiss to her wrist. “I am in love with you. I love you. I will always love you. I don't need a bond to tell me that. Even if we didn't have it I’d tell you the same. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, no matter what. I never want to be apart. I want whatever you want. If you don’t want a mating ceremony, damn it to hell, we don’t do it. If you want to take some time and think, that’s fine too.”

Nesta stroked his cheek and he burrowed into it. That warmth and life she held for him.

“But know that I love you Nesta and I will never resent you for being you. I will never not want to be with you. Ten years from now, two hundred years from now, you are all I will ever want by my side. Know that if nothing else.”

He had never been one for poetry, for flowery words and beautiful language. It wasn’t in him but something in him knew this much had to be said. They’d had a whirlwind relationship these past few months and he knew so much had been left unsaid. Some of it was fine, but some of it he knew had led to distress. To him. To her. He’d had so much more to say the night she’d all but banished him and gone to Emerie’s. So much planned and he’d never done it, never thought to in the aftermath of the Blood Rite and Nyx’s birth.

But Cassian had been consumed by her from the moment they’d met. And every moment after. If she doubted him, them, he had to do something about it.

He waited apprehensively for an answer, a sign, something, anything from Nesta to know what their next move would be.

Nesta didn’t break his hold on her, nor did her gaze lower from his own.

Nesta’s voice broke when she finally spoke.

“I love you too. I always will. I…I don’t know what the future is going to bring and I’m scared,” she whispered before leaning down and touching her forehead to his own.

He breathed her in, sighing with relief as some of the tension in both of them loosened.

“We’ll deal with it, all of it, as it comes. I’m here with you. Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nesta seemed to be holding in a sob. “Do you promise?”

He ran a hand down her face, her back, soothingly. She was all but shaking.

“I promise,” he said before kissing her. She kissed him back fervently and they were both out of breath when she finally broke apart.

Cassian opened his eyes and watched her. He vowed, “I promise, on breath and blood, I will be with you for as long as you’ll have me. I will love you for the rest of our entire lives and I will cherish every moment we are given together. And when this world ends I will search for you in the next. And through it all, I will never stop loving you.”

Nesta smiled softly at that, before reaching for him again for another kiss. The kiss could have ended worlds. It could have stopped time. It was just them in that moment, bound by the very fabric of their souls, with the melody of their bond soaring high before tightening stronger within each other.

He’d meant every word.

So long as he breathed, he would be by her side, unyielding, loving her with every moment of their lives.

New Taglist: Taglist: @endlessdaydream @sleeping-and-books @purpleglitterypinecone @sv0430 @gwynberdara @karmasworlds @bookstantrash @duskandstarlight @d0riansgray @perseusannabeth@vasudharaghavan @sayosdreams @arielle-reads @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @nahthanks @oversizedbats @swankii-art-teacher @inardour @rowaelinismyotp @starryblueskies7 @vidalinav @nessiantrashh @imagine-me @iwastoowildinthe70s @lady-winter-sunrise @vanzetanze @moodymelanist @wishfulimaginings @amaranthas-whore @simpingfornestaarcheron @generalnesta @mis-lil-red @nestaisgod @booksstorm @loosingdreams @champanheandluxxury @18moneytoad @starksravings @tinasbookishlife @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @nesquik-arccheron @readingwitches @that-golden-lyre @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @story-scribbler @readingismyonlyhobby

#Nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #acotar #Nesta #pro nesta #pro nesta archeron

78 notes · View notes

6urin · 1 year

Text

HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH! (≧◡≦)

Or in other words, reuniting with your first high school crush, Scaramouche, and ending up in his bed.

contains: f!afab!reader x scara, pussyjob, blowjob, fingering, praise, drunk sex, creampie

(* ^ ω ^) : minor writing smut !!

Scaramouche is commonly known as a nobody in college. People rarely acknowledge his presence because of his, "quick to be pissed off" personality. This has caused many to stay out of his way, except for Childe. He's your average jock, always throwing the hugest parties and pulling the finest women on campus.

These two are quite the polar opposites and because of it, the kind-hearted ginger is always trying to introduce Scaramouche to new opportunities.

"You know, you're super hot, Scara. I'm sure if you tried, all of the girls would be head over heels for you." Childe's words are slightly incoherent at some parts as he brushes his teeth, shamelessly standing in Scaramouche's room, dripping wet with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

Scaramouche doesn't look up from his phone from where he's sitting on his bed and mumbles, "I'm not a people pleaser like you, Childe." Childe frowns and states, "We could be the campus' power duo if you flaunted your ego more." He sighs before walking back to the washroom to spit in the sink and rinse out his mouth.

At that, Scaramouche fixes his back's posture from the slouching position. "What the hell is he on about," he thinks to himself, furrowing his brows together. It's true, that he has a big ego. But isn't that the reason why no one approaches him?

"It's because you're showing it off it in the wrong way," Childe says, as if reading his roommate's mind. This time, he enters the room with a white t-shirt and whale designed pajama shorts, ruffling a towel in his wet, orange hair while remaining eye contact.

Scaramouche scoffs and leans back into his bed, "And you're suddenly capable of giving me advice, why?" Childe waves it off with an eyeroll, "I'm just saying. You know, your ego is in the wrong place. It shouldn't be in your status, but rather your looks. Like I said, you're flaming hot!"

The cerulean haired male grimaces, "Your word choice is a little problematic, Childe." He removes one earphone from his ear in order to have a proper conversation.

Childe grins, "You need to take more pride in your appearance. You have a tongue piercing and multiple ear piercings; Do you know how many girls would die for a man like that?" He sits on the bed with Scaramouche, bouncing the mattress. "I'm hosting another party here tonight," Childe says, nudging at Scaramouche's arm.

"Aaand, instead of being locked up in your room, I'll try and hook you up with some girls." At his sudden offer, Scaramouche groans. "No. I'm not going to go through all of this just to boost my ego. I already have enough of my confidence as it is-"

Childe disrupts his sentence with a wail, "I'll even help you choose clothes! Just please, please, please?" He clasps his hands together and juts out his bottom lip. Scaramouche narrows his eyes in frustration. He scowls, "Fine! But if it gets boring, I'm going back to my room."

That's what led Scaramouche here, awkwardly standing while occupying himself with sipping on a red plastic cup filled to the brim with beer. Don't take this wrong, Childe did try, but he didn't try hard enough, since the second a pretty girl caught his eye, he immediately left Scaramouche to fend for himself in the middle of this ear-deafening party.

He swore, he could go blind from how bright and colorful the flashing lights were. Scaramouche just itched to go to his room, but he wanted to wait a little bit longer on Childe to return. His friend's return never happened. And so, losing a purpose to stay here any longer, he turns on his heel, bound to go back to his room.

However, someone by the entrance of the bedroom manages to get his attention. If it wasn't the one and only (Name). You're known as the campus princess with your charm and that damn fine appearance. God, who knows how many guys have managed to get in bed with you?

Scaramouche would be a little embarrassed to admit that yes, he has a crush on you. The only difference is, he's known you since high school, so it's not as weird as the other guys have it. The two of you were partnered up for the three legged race and even though you guys lost, you admitted that you had fun with him.

After that, you and him became fairly close, but just sort of drifted away when transitioning into college.

Ah, maybe this is his chance! He can finally make Childe proud with this...

"Hey, (Name). I didn't expect to see you here." Scaramouche rubs his neck, seemingly a little bit flustered. Where's that ego of his now? You look at him in surprise and smile, "Hi, Scara. We haven't been able to talk much, huh?" You glance down at your own cup of beer, moving it in a circular motion to watch the liquid swish.

Scaramouche fumbles with his words, "Right, um, how are you finding college?" He gives you a profound gaze. He realizes that you find it hard to keep eye contact, for some reason. "It's okay! Surely a lot more different from high school," you say, laughing.

Scaramouche doesn't mean to look, but it's hard to focus on your words when that shirt hugs your curves so perfectly and that skirt exposes so much of your thighs.

"Have you... gotten a girlfriend?"

Your inquiry catches him off guard. Scaramouche pauses before chuckling, "Ah, no. I've been more occupied with my studies rather than my love life," He deadpans at the sight of Childe making out with a random girl on the couch. "Unlike some people." The last part of his sentence makes you giggle, "I can see Childe's still the same."

Scaramouche hesitates before asking, "What about you? You got a boyfriend? With how much the campus talks about you-" You shake your head, "Mm-mm. No boyfriend." You tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear and sheepishly say, "I don't like any of them, 'cept for one."

Scaramouche's interest is suddenly piqued. "Is that so? Who is he?" He knows it's a little brazen of him to ask like that, but the curiosity was gnawing away at him.

You take a sip from your cup and shrug, "Someone. I don't know if he likes me, so he's better off as a secret just in case I end up changing my mind." Scaramouche clicks his tongue inside his mouth. You're so obvious to him, it's adorable, really.

This is the most appropriate time to put that ego of his to use. He knows it's a big step and a rather huge assumption but at this point, he's confident about it.

"It's me, isn't it?" He does nothing but chuckle at your reddening complexion. Scaramouche tilts your chin upwards and smiles. "Drink the rest of that and you'll be fine with me." He nods his head towards the cup in your hold and your hands go clammy.

You do as he says and he does the same with his own drink. Scaramouche tosses the cups aside and pulls you into his bedroom.

You feel all of your senses overwhelm you the second he closes the door and has you against the wall, one of his arms securing your waist and his other hand holding your neck. He kisses you, slowly and passionately. You feel his teeth bite down into your bottom lip, emitting a soft gasp from you.

The more you two get into the kiss, the more you feel comfortable with finally putting your arms around his neck, grinding yourself against his body.

His room smells entirely of him and his scent is absolutely intoxicating. You still remember touching yourself back in your bedroom during your high school phase, thinking of Scaramouche's lithe fingers stretching you out instead of your own.

"Mmh, hah-" Your tongue barely manages to keep up with his, Scaramouche dominating the situation with how amazing his ability to kiss was. His tongue piercing constantly pokes at your tongue and you shiver at the feeling.

"You're so..." Scaramouche's breathy voice trails off as he flips up your skirt, pressing two fingertips against your clothed clit. You whimper from the action and the fabric dampens even more than before. Scaramouche slyly looks at you and removes his fingers. You dryly gulp in anticipation as he places you on his bed.

"So pretty," he breathes out, lips hovering over yours. You're thirsting for another kiss, but he simply hushes you and puts his fingers inside of your mouth. You diligently suck on them, eyes half-lidded and pupils heart shaped. Scaramouche mutters, "Just imagine if all of the guys you rejected could see you whoring yourself out for a simple no one..."

With his digits now covered in the slick of your mouth, he pulls your panties aside and thrusts three inside. During that whole moment, he never looked away from you. You loudly moan, the music and the chatter from outside surely drowning out your lewd noises. Scaramouche licks his lips and goes faster, your cunt clamping down on his fingers.

He lowly laughs, "Good girl, aren't you? Yeah, I'm sure you are." Your view goes hazy as you pant, "S-Scara...!" He curls his fingers, causing you to reach your high more earlier than expected of both you and him. Your white substances cover his hand and he sucks and licks at it, making sure to finish every single drop.

The next thing you know, you're getting pounded from the back with his cock driving into your dripping wet pussy. Your head rests on the pillow, drool wettening the case as you let out mewls and whines. "You're s-so big, Scara! Mngh, mmh!" Your manicured nails dig into the sheets, pussy tightening as Scaramouche moans.

"Yeah, baby doll? Gotta fuck you 'til the break of day." He rubs your clit at a fast pace, drawing you nearer to your high. "Ahn! Scara, mm, I'm gonna' cum!" You whimper out, "Fuck! Mmh!" With one more harsh thrust, the blunt head of his cock plunging straight onto your cervix, you splatter cum all over his pelvis.

Scaramouche's mouth falls agape at the sight of you squirting and he instantly shoots thick, white ropes of seed into your womb. He gives a few shallow thrusts before starting up his previous pace once more. Sounds of soft slapping fills the room along with your heavenly moans and squeals.

At some point, he orders you to turn on your back. You obey and his cock stiffens at your appearance. Your gorgeous lipstick now smudged, clothes all crumpled, tears peeking at your eyes and your cunt...

He watches his sperm leak and pump out of your glistening folds, tucking his bottom lip beneath his teeth at the sinful sight. You rub your thighs together and murmur, "Scara, this is so embarrassing..." Scaramouche gets on top of you and places an open mouthed kiss on your lips, which you reciprocate.

"Embarrassing? No, baby, you're so pretty," he sighs, readying his tip at your leaking hole once more. Sinking inside you, he starts plummeting more vigorously than before, as he gets more turned on when seeing your expressions. You attempt to cover your mouth with the back of your hand to lessen your humiliation, but he manages to put it aside and lean down to kiss your neck.

You re-adjust your legs around his waist, whining as he bites at the sensitive skin of your collarbone, placing numerous hickeys and love bites. It adds to the vulgar pleasure and you realize, you would've never imagined getting fucked raw by your high school crush.

The slippery walls of your cunt start to spasm and you arch your back, crying out, "Scara! Oh, m-hah!" Scaramouche moans and murmurs profanities when your cunt clenches so tight, making him meet his own climax. He pulls out his cock, watching his cum overflow from your pussy.

Scaramouche cups the side of your face and slots his lips into yours. Your cheeks go into a tinted pink when you carefully let your fingers run through his hair. Strands of cerulean frame his pretty face and you feel as though you just got creampied by the most attractive and kindest guy on campus.

And he ends up staying true to his promise, fucking you until daybreak.

You buck your hips forward as he sloppily eats out your cunt. His nose continues to bump onto your clit and you furrow your eyebrows, moaning. His tongue is simply a work of art, the pink muscle entirely inside of you, making you feel the most amazing pleasures ever.

You say multiple praises to him mixed with your own whimpers of his name, your hands messing up his hair with how much you've been holding onto it. It's around twelve in the morning, but the party hasn't settled down at all. You're surprised no one has left yet at this time, though it's expected since exam season ended.

His head is beneath your skirt, though he could care less. All he knows is that he's eating out his first love and each sound that left your throat is simply music to his ears. Scaramouche sucks and licks through your folds, desperately moaning for more than just one taste.

He didn't want this night to end.

The following morning, Childe is completely disoriented and hungover. The only thing that brought him back to his senses was the scene of a girl sucking on his roommate's cock.

"A-Ah... that's it, (Name)..."

The ginger swore he was hearing things. Childe blinks a few times and rubs his eyes before slapping himself in the face. He sits up from the couch and yawns. "Shit, my head. Scaramouche!" He shouts out once more, "Scara, can you make me some of your hangover soup!?"

Noticing the door to Scaramouche's room is slightly open, he pushes it without hesitating. It's just another average Sunday, right?

Childe's eyes widen as he tries taking everything in altogether. There, kneeling on the floor in between his roommate's legs as Scaramouche is sitting on his bed with a hand gripping your hair, is none other than you, of course.

You whine around his dick and lower your head to welcome more of his length into your throat, the vibrations emitting a groan from Scaramouche. Scaramouche's lips are agape as he mutters, "Good girl, good girl... fuck..."

Childe carefully backs away and closes the door after himself. Apparently, Scaramouche wasn't the only one who had a good time at the party.

#purin writes :3 #afab reader #female reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche fanfiction #scaramouche fanfic

557 notes · View notes

jobean12-blog · 8 months

Text

Sunshine in the Dark

Pairing: Werewolf!Bucky Barnes x Vampire!Reader

Word Count: 803

Summary: You share a recent dream with Bucky and he makes it come true.

Author's Note: This is another entry for @pupandkisasaesthetics aesthetics challenge! Thank you to the beauties @sgt-seabass and @rookthorne for hosting! HUGS and LOVE! 💕The picture I got is posted below. I know it's a bright a colorful picture but when I saw it this is where my brain went. I also love this pairing because it's not the usual love story. And you can interpret what he gives her at the break in the story any way you want- could just be cuddles, could be much more intimate...anything you like from him. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰 **Dream description is in italics**

Warnings: it's really soft and sweet with a tinge of sad but it's a happy ending!

PS: this is how I picture my soft werewolf!Bucky in human form. Just beautiful and beefy and that hair and the beard and YUM!

“Tell me what it is that has you smiling like that doll.”

You walk into his open arms, tucking yourself against his chest and resting your cheek to his bare skin.

“I had the most wonderful dream,” you sigh, your smile fading.

“A dream,” he muses. “Tell me about it.”

After you remain silent for some time he strokes your back, gently coaxing you with every brush of his fingers.

“The sky stretched for miles in a brilliant expanse of cerulean blue, devoid of clouds. And the sun…it was dazzling, blessing everything in it’s path with it’s radiant warmth. My skin was glowing as I soaked it in and a soft breeze caressed it just enough to keep me cool…”

Bucky looks down at you, grasping your chin between his long fingers as he tilts your face up to meet his eyes. His brow is drawn in as his thumb sweeps across the outline of your lips.

“And?” he whispers.

“And the sun’s golden rays danced across the water, turning it into a dazzling stretch of blue and green where each gentle ripple was transformed into a glimmering ribbon of light that sparkled and swayed.”

A single red tear rolls down your cheek.

His thumb catches it and he brushes it away, resting his forehead to yours.

“You miss it,” he states sadly.

“So much.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, then to your cheek, moving to the other side to do the same before capturing your lips.

“If I could bring this dream to life, I would,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I know,” you answer, ghosting your mouth along his jaw and nipping lightly with your fangs.

Your lips continue to his ear, pressing a kiss just below before you run your nose down his neck with an inhale and rest your head to his shoulder.

“What would you have me do?” he asks. “Anything to have you smiling again doll.”

You fingers graze his forearm, the corded muscles flexing under your touch, then teasingly glide them higher until you reach his collarbone.

When you look up into his eyes, blue like the water you dreamed of, his lips twitch with a smirk and you feel the shift begin, soft fur growing beneath your fingertips.

“As you wish,” he says, his voice already more of a growl.

The wind rushes past you, your heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. The air is rich with the scent of damp soil and pine and the light of moon filters through the entwined branches above, casting flittering shadows across the ground.

Suddenly, the forest opens up into a small clearing bathed in moonlight. Bucky slows down to a graceful trot, his ears perky and alert. Your breath catches at the sight before you.

“Bucky,” you whisper, slipping from his body but still holding tightly to his dark fur with one hand.

He stills and nudges you forward with his cold nose, staring at the cave entrance. You nod and move toward it, cocking your head when you hear a familiar sound.

You move slowly, taking in every noise and smell with your heightened senses. Bucky’s claws scrape quietly along the rocky floor, echoing off the walls as he follows closely behind and when you reach your destination, you stop dead in your tracks.

The scene is a symphony of darkness and light that unfolds beneath the soft glow of flickering candles and the light of the moon. There in the shadows the pool reveals itself, it’s water shimmering under the illumination of the countless candles surrounding it and an opening in the cave’s ceiling that allows the moon’s glow to infiltrate and bathe it all in a silvery glow.

The light flashes and glitters on the water’s surface, a mirror of liquid moonlight, moving with graceful fluidity. Every ripple becomes a cascade of sparkling diamonds, capturing the moonlight and transforming it into a thousand fleeting stars and each time a soft breeze floats on the air the candlelight falters, casting intricate patterns along the walls of the cave.

You whisper his name again, your voice breaking with emotion.

Then you hear him start to shift behind you, his bones realigning and fur receding. When you turn to look at him his muscles are still rippling under his skin, adjusting to his human form.

He strides toward you, his long hair brushing his shoulders as he bends to scoop you into his arms.

Your lips tremble as they brush his softly. “Thank you.”

He smiles against your lips and walks into the water, cradling you against his chest until you’re submerged up to your chin.

“You’ve given me everything,” you whisper, unwrapping yourself from his arms and spreading yourself out to float above the surface of the water.

“You are everything,” he murmurs.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @sebstanwhore @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @buckysdollforlife @late-to-the-party-81 @blackwidownat2814

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #werewolf!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #werewolf!bucky #werewolf!Bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #werewolf au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #pup&kisasaestheticchallenge

303 notes · View notes

randomrisepolls · 1 month

Text

Fandom Rise Poll #1

Submitted by: Anonymous

Gemini by @tangledinink

True Colors by @v-albion

The Little Prince by @beannary

#fandom rise polls #<- new tag to differentiate fan content from regular rise polls #poll 1 #rottmnt #tmnt #submitted by anonymous #gemini au #true colors au #tlp au

102 notes · View notes

the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep · 7 months

Text

“Papa and Tara” Oil Paint on Canvas, 1499 DR

Gif credit to @gale-gaze

“Papa!” the girl cried out excitedly as she burst into Gale’s library. His daughter was technically supposed to knock before entering her father’s library, but Gale adored his daughter’s visits. Even when she did interrupt his work, he was more excited about her than any composition he could make with the Weave. Tara was asleep next to him as he read by the fire. The tressym awoke with a soft trill, her wings twitching.

Karlach was born the year after he and Tav were married. From the moment that Tav told him that she was pregnant, Gale was enamored with his future child. He fussed endlessly over Tav throughout the pregnancy, hyper-attuned to any slight grimace of discomfort, craving, or restlessness from his wife. He paused all of his arcane research and teaching students to attend to her, despite Tav’s protests that he didn’t need to worry himself so much. “My love, there is nothing more important in this world or any other than you and our child,” he would say, placing a hand on Tav’s belly. “The Weave will always exist and I will shall always be able to compose within it, but this is worth more than kingdoms.”

Gale, true to his nature, read any book he could get his hands on related to child-rearing. Since having a child with Mystra was out of the question, he never imagined being a father.

Gale smiled proudly upon seeing Karlach, marking his place in the book before closing it. He always gave his daughter his fullest attention. Karlach skipped over to where her father sat on the sofa. Gale’s library was her favorite place in the house. She loved the way it smelled like old books and dust, just like her beloved father. More than that, it was where she could most frequently find Tara, who was her best friend next to Gale.

“Ah, Karlach!” he exclaimed. “My dearest daughter. How were your lessons today? I am certain that you are excelling, as always.”

“Today was so much fun!” she said, her voice still brimming with excitement. “I made you something!”

“My goodness! Is it another addition to the gallery?” Gale asked. His library was filled with Karlach’s creative works, all of which he cherished. When his daughter began bringing her artwork home from her classes, he cleared any space he could in his library to display Karlach’s work. Each painting she made was framed with a tiny orb of light suspended overhead so that Gale could fully appreciate each work of art in full detail. Beneath each of them, there was a tiny plaque with the name, date, and medium: “Papa Doing Magic,” Watercolor on Baldurian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios; “Mama and Papa”, Oil pastel on Waterdhavian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios. While Karlach dabbled in many mediums, painting was her favorite.

“I think you and Tara will really, really, *really* like this one,” Karlach giggled. Her face was smudged with paint, her nose spotted with deep cerulean. Although his opinion was biased, never before had Gale seen a child as beautiful as his daughter. She was his spitting image; sparkling brown eyes, untamed chestnut curls and his smile. There was no denying that she was a Dekarios.

Karlach produced a small canvas from behind her back and handed it to her father. “It’s you and Tara!” she exclaimed, beaming with pride.

The painting portrayed Gale and Tara sitting on the flocked velvet sofa of his library. Gale was portrayed with an oblong body, stick arms, and a beard. Tara’s likeness resembled a brown and orange egg with disproportionately large white wings. In the background, there were several asymmetrically drawn bookshelves adorned with books of many different colors.

Gale took the painting from Karlach’s hands, looking upon it with amazement. “Karlach, my darling girl, this is your best work yet. Such skill you have!”

Karlach bounced on her heels, grinning from ear to ear. “Really?!”

Gale nodded, admiring the painting as if it was the finest piece of artwork he’d ever seen. To him, his daughter’s work was always beautiful and he grew prouder of her by the day. “Tara, hasn’t she captured your likeness beautifully?”

“Yes, Mr. Dekarios! Little Miss Karlach is truly a natural! So very talented!” Tara trilled. Objectively, Karlach’s art was like any other child’s, but Tara loved seeing how happy Gale was when Karlach brought him her paintings.

He patted the space next to him on the sofa. “You must tell me all about your creative process.”

Karlach sat beside her father, her legs dangling above the floor. Describing her creative processes was her favorite part of showing her father her art.

“It’s your and Tara’s favorite place in the whole wide world so it’s my favorite place too!”

Gale ruffled Karlach’s curls. “Right you are, sweet girl. The level of detail is remarkable. As always, you never fail to amaze me.”

Gale looked down at his daughter, the child he never thought he would have. Even though she looked like him, she had her mother’s spirit and the tenacity of her namesake — Karlach Cliffgate.

“Now, where shall we hang this one?” Gale asked Karlach.

“Hmmm…” Karlach hummed, pursing her lips together as if attempting to solve a difficult problem. “I think it should go… over there!”

She was pointing to a vacant space over her father’s piano, the last empty wall space in the library. Admittedly, Gale had hoped to use the space to hang a rare tapestry that Elminster had gifted him for his 50th birthday, but Gale couldn’t say no to Karlach. Tav worried about Gale spoiling her, but Karlach’s puppy dog eyes never failed to sway him.

“You have such an eye for design. That spot is absolutely perfect. Shall we hang it tomorrow?”

Karlach nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Can I help, Papa?”

“Of course you can, my love,” he answered, kissing the top of her head. In the meantime, he would need to make a new plaque for the painting.

“Thank you, Papa!” she exclaimed, giving her father a tight hug. “I love you!”

Sometimes, Gale found himself misty-eyed whenever his wife or daughter told him that they loved him. They both loved him so purely, not for his capabilities to compose the Weave, but for the husband and father he was. And he loved them, more than he could ever have imagined. Nothing in this plane of existence nor any other could compare.

Gale embraced his daughter. “I love you too, my sweet girl.”

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 headcanons #dad!gale

153 notes · View notes

insane-brit · 9 months

Text

Royalty (Ch. 4)

Muzan Kibutsuji x Soulmate!Fem!reader

Chapter Links: Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three

Next scheduled Royalty update (Ch 5.): I’m not on hiatus for this story or any others, however, my semester has started so updates will be slower and I cannot give a true update schedule at this time. Thank you for your patience.

Tags/Warnings: Dark, dark story/themes, enemies to lovers, semi slow burn, Muzan, talk of death, mention of gore, insulting/degrading words and names, anger/hatred, planning/scheming, light teasing (not the NSFW kind), dialogue, dialogue heavy.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: 2.4K

Steam wafted from the pile of white jasmine rice. Generating a warmth that relaxed her muscles and coaxed an exhale from the depths of her chest. Gingerly gripping the sides of the ceramic bowl, she pulled it towards her form. The plushness of the cerulean cushion cradled her bruised knees.

“I hope you like Karē Raisu. It’s the first thing I thought of to make you.”

She looked up at the older woman standing in the doorway. A tired smile graced her wizened face as she looked over (F/N).

“I do. Thank you, Mrs. Aoki.” She whispered and grabbed the spoon next to the bowl.

The clinks of the metal hitting the ceramic resounded in the otherwise quiet room as she mixed the darkened spiced roux with the rice. Thick cuts of beef with onions, carrots, and potatoes raised a potent aroma that made her stomach growl. Aoki beamed and the wrinkles around her mouth became more prominent.

“I’m glad.” she meandered her way to sit across from (F/N). Setting her bowl down before slowly lowering her body onto a cushion. (F/N) studied Aoki, noticing the dark blemishes that almost looked akin to welts blooming across her arms, sun-kissed patches dotting her face, the droopiness of her skin as it weighed from aging, and the slight tremble of her hands.

She sucked in a breath as the corner of her mouth ticked a ghost of a smile before settling back into a line. “Thank you for helping me. I am in your debt.”

Aoki hummed as her shaking hands grasped her spoon. “Nonsense, I was merely passing through and heard your distress,” she blew gently on the pile of rice and broth. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought you were a dying animal.” (F/N) choked on her rice. Feeling it lodge itself in her throat as she coughed and flushed from embarrassment. Thumb grazing the corner of her mouth as she covered the lower half of her face.

“I apologize.”

“No need. You were quite shaken, and I couldn’t leave you there,” Aoki sighed. “How are your bandages? Not causing any trouble?”

(F/N) looked down at the carefully wrapped dressings. Her hands were covered in the cream-colored woven fabric. “They feel great,” she reached over and gently grazed the wrapping on her elbow. “What did you use?”

“A salve I got from a nice young woman in Asakusa. I wish I could’ve acquired more things, but the young man accompanying her seemed less than pleased for me to be near her,” Aoki looked down at her bowl dejected. “But I’m happy this finally came in handy.”

A benign smile crossed (F/N)’s lips as she set her spoon down. Today’s events weighed heavily on her mind, and it seemed her body was just now catching up. Fatigue settled into her bones and her eyes burned. The pads of her fingers rubbed the feeling away as she raised her head to look around.

Aoki’s Minka was simple but pleasant. From the moment she helped her and Seiichi, paranoia, and all, to the front door of her home she was a delight. The lanterns adorning the rooms gave off a hue of glittering gold and sparks of amber. Exactly like most fixtures in people’s homes, but Aoki’s was much more inviting. It reminded (F/N) of flames licking at chopped timber; a sentiment to the nights her and the other Hashira would gather and reminisce, and the musty, earthy smell of pages being turned; memories of when her grandmother would read her old fairytales.

The older woman even had bundles of wisteria hanging here and there in rooms. A few shrubs of the woody vine clung to her home and (F/N) wondered if she knew of demons. If she did, Aoki didn’t mention it to her. Nor look at her with any difference as she took the haori off her shoulders and set her katana off to the side before inspecting her wounds. In a way, she was grateful to not be looked upon in awe and bombarded with questions. She didn’t have the energy to answer or feel deserving of such a gaze.

The rustling of fabric and slight grunt had her snapping her neck towards Aoki. The woman was standing with her empty bowl and picking up the miscellaneous things scattered on the table. (F/N) reached her arm out to aid her, but Aoki held a hand up, effectively halting her extended arm that was about to grasp a ceramic teapot.

“I can do it dear. You’re my guest.”

(F/N) furrowed her brows and her tongue ran over her dry lips as she spoke. “I insist. Please let me help you. You’ve done so much for me already.”

Aoki shook her head and arched her brow. A teasing look in her eye. “I don’t think so. If you move an inch from your spot, I’ll make sure that crow of yours never hears the end of it.”

The younger woman gawked at Aoki before a small snort sounded from her nose. (F/N)’s body shook as she tried to contain her laughter. The back of her hand rested over a smile that cracked over her face. The older woman teetered between scowling at the girl and joining in on her amusement.

In the end, she hummed and chuckled to herself before staggering away to another room. “I’m being serious.”

(F/N) took a deep breath trying to reel in her merriment. When Aoki was tending to her, Seiichi busied himself by stealing pieces of jewelry and even coins from the older woman. Flaunting them around and hopping away when either of them would try and snatch the items from his beak. She could still hear the older woman berating the bird in her mind, and she swore from the look on Aoki’s face that she was ready to wring his neck.

“I hope you know how to play.” Aoki hobbled back into the room with a bag in her frail hands. She handed the cloth over to (F/N). The Hashira opened and poured its contents onto the table. Eyes widening a fraction seeing it was Men’uchi.

“Of course, I do,” she said staring at the engraved clay pieces. “It’s been a long time.” The kind gestures from the older woman had allowed (F/N) to momentarily forget everything. She felt warm and something akin to safe here.

“Then I suppose we should change that,” Aoki began separating the pieces before pausing. “Right, here.” She reached into her pocket before placing something on the table. It clinked when it touched the wood, and she slid it over to the young woman. (F/N) trailed her hand before seeing a thin gold pin poke out. The metal curved up like vines wrapping around a pale sea foam-colored gemstone, jade. An even thinner gold chain dangled from the stone and branched off into mismatched lengths. A cerise-colored bead held the trains at the branching point and at the end of each, a milky glass teardrop hung.

Her mouth parted and she held up her hands as if afraid to touch the ornamental hairpin. “Why are you giving me this? I can't take it. It’s too much.”

Aoki made no move to take it back and hummed. “Well, I’m not taking no for an answer. I promise it's fine so don’t question or fight me on this.”

(F/N) gingerly picked up the delicate item and ran her fingers over the smooth metal. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” the older woman continued to separate the pieces. “Oh, and please share it with that crow. Maybe he’ll stop taking my stuff.”

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

Muzan stood on the tatami flooring. His body hunched over his desk as his nails pierced into the wood grain. The vastness of the Infinity Castle caused echoes and creaks to magnify and drone. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his elbows. His eyes were sharp and shrewd as he glowered at the line laying in pristine condition across his workspace. Books were thrown open and some pages torn; shredded to ribbons.

The surroundings felt suffocating. Desolation whispered sweet nothings in the expanse, and a looming presence stood stoic and ominous not far away from Kibutsuji. His aura felt heavy and stifling. As if zapping any energy or spirit from one’s body.

“To think, after all this time,” Muzan said straightening up his posture and turning to face the man behind him.

Kokushibo did not waver. His fist circled the hilt of his blade and the other rested at his side. All six eyes that resembled carefully soldered stained glass bored into his master's slitted claret ones.

“It is… strange.” He drawled. His eyes flickered from Muzan’s to his wrist. A very thin thread, only visible in certain angles of light, shone and connected his lord to someone far off. It glittered like a spider’s silk. Spindly and thin; stronger than steel but looking as if it could break with the slightest tug.

Muzan’s face remained constant upon looking at Uppermoon One. Though, the warmth that fury carried crept along his collar. “You can see it?”

“Yes,” Kokushibo shifted slightly. The fabric of his purple-and-black kimono ruffled against his hakama. “I suspect…it is the lifeblood’s doing.”

The progenitor’s brows dipped downwards but an inch. Festering anger bubbled like molten lava. The ambrosia: rich velvety fluid that ran through his core, that had Oni’s imploring their master for more, was what granted them the sight of what he despised. Slipping a pen ornamentally engraved from his pocket, he clicked it open. The tip scratched the smooth paper in the book he now clutched. His apprehensiveness showed faintly from the bone-breaking grip he had around the cool metal.

It made perfect sense. His creations were an extension of himself. Remade into cutthroat violent things with the weight of his ichor circulating in their undying bloodstream. They were him, but also themselves.

“How does it appear to you?” Muzan hissed through his teeth.

Six eyes and their cracked black pupils focused studiously on the filament. “Like… a phantom. Clear and… barely visible.”

The sound of ripping reverberated through the endless wooden rooms as Muzan’s pen tore through the paper. His knuckles were white, and his jaw clenched. This did not bode well for him; however, a trace of possibility crossed his mind. If the upper ranks, who pulsed with his vitality, could barely bear witness to the tie, then maybe beings less fortunate to receive generous amounts of his blood could not at all. It was a stretch, but one that seemed likely.

This thought eased Muzan’s pride. He would not be perceived to have a weakness of any sort. His Kizuki knew better than to assume such foolishness, but others he could not be so sure of. Muzan would be damned if some sly little vermin thought they could exploit something the progenitor had no control over appearing. Much less presume that he cared for the woman connected to him.

“The woman… was a Hashira, was she not?” Kokushibo queried.

“Yes, but I doubt her abilities considering the cowardice she expressed,” the book slammed shut with a loud crack. “She must not be very valued.”

Kokushibo’s voice thrummed in his throat. “Valuable or not… she poses a threat. Or… an opportunity.”

Muzan’s lip curled back into a snarl and his eyes narrowed. He was not blind. The desire to sever the bond even if it was in vain, and the ire that overcame him when he saw the mockery that was the slayer consumed him, but he remained conscious of the possibilities. If that spineless woman were to open her mouth, it could be detrimental to everything he’s worked towards.

“That Hashira can lead the corps to us. Ubuyashki will make sure of that.” he bared his teeth.

“Even so… if he were to be eliminated… they will tuck their tails between their legs and run to the hand that feeds them. Without him, they are nothing.” Kokushibo uttered lowly.

His subordinates’ words weighed heavy on Muzan’s mind. Ubuyashki was skilled in eluding even his most capable forces, however, the slayers had a weak spot for him. It was clear in the way they held themselves, and it was no secret how deep their loyalty ran. He could see it on their faces and when they would speak. Granted, it was rare that Muzan ever came across a swordsman that would divulge anything regarding their master, but in his over one thousand years of existence it has happened, and once was all it took.

They were soft at their core, and regardless of whether he located Ubuyashki’s estate and sunk his claws in his tender flesh, tasting the coppery substance on his tongue, or dangled an empty threat over their heads they would scramble and wail to his side.

“You propose a possibility that none of you have been able to achieve. Yet, your strategy pervades you Kokushibo.”

The man in question tilted his head down slightly in acknowledgment.

“Misleading the Kisatsutai into thinking their lord is in danger would divert their attention to him and not locating us but preventing the woman from speaking would sever the chances completely,” Muzan took a few steps towards Uppermoon One. His posture was rigid. “In turn, the wretch could provide an advantage.”

Kokushibo studied his lord’s stature. The abhor was formidable and bled through his skin. He had seen Muzan’s wrath many times but the moment he had disclosed what the Uppermoon had understood upon being summoned, he had never felt animosity such as this. It was explicit as to why, and he would feel the same if he was bound to a mere mortal.

“What are your orders?” he asked easing the grip on his blade.

“Follow the thread. Find the slayer and do what you must to ensure her silence, but don’t kill her,” Muzan growled. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I will not… is there a reason why I can’t end her life?”

“Don’t be daft,” Muzan seethed. “You know why, and I will not leave it to chance.”

Kokushibo mulled over Muzan’s response before it clicked. “I’ll see it done, my lord.” He lowered his head in respect before his aura faded. His presence no longer there to cast a baleful weight.

Muzan curled a finger under his tie and pulled, loosening the silk. He had the notion to take care of this matter himself, but he was not about to risk revealing himself more than he already had. The boy with the Hanafuda earrings and now the Hashira woman was enough to pose a risk. His hair flitted over his jaw as he ruined the tomes sitting on the umber shelves before moving to tear into the desk with his nails. The timber screeched in agony as long marks were formed on the unblemished surface.

Taglist: @shellseys @athalahild @stxrrielle @lulu-83 @nianre @sincerely-aaronette @horror4themasses @warringwarrioridiot @vilshoenheitishot @woozzz @kathleen7i

165 notes · View notes

lively-potter · 3 months

Text

—moon struck ; part three

— genre ; strangers to friends to lovers, kinda grumpy x sunshine, fluff, angst, smut, angst with a happy ending 🥹

— warnings ; body insecurities ( mentioned ), eating disorder ( mentioned ), oc deals with a severe amount of anxiety and panic attacks, violence, smut ( later ), FLUFF, love struck jungkookie 🥹

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— word count ; 1.5k

— intro , part one, part two

— 2024 © LivelyPotter

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

***

river's pov ; the next day

I liked having a sense of complete control over my life and the things I did.

It wasn't completely true, but I pretended I did anyway.

Carefully holding the icing bag, I gently squeezed the bag and started moving my wrist in a circular motion to perfectly swirl the rainbow buttercream icing along the outside of the red velvet cupcake, I smiled to myself.

I had complete control when baking and decorating delicious treats – sometimes I messed up the measurements, but that was rare.

Poking my tongue out, a gesture I did to steady myself, I carefully crafted petals along the inside of the rim and soon enough, I had a perfect rainbow-colored flower.

"Oh damn!" a familiar voice exclaimed from behind me, making a squeak leave my lips the moment my brother, Brandon, reached in front of me and snatched the final cupcake from my hand. "These look good, Pixie–Mhm, and taste good too."

Cringing away from the man in front of me, a piece of red cake came out of his mouth and hit my nose. "Ew! Brandon!" I screeched out a laugh and he took my short – pixie-like frame, hence the nickname – and gave me a noogie.

"Dude!" I pushed him away, "Wern't you the one who taught me to chew with my mouth closed?"

Brandon watched me, amusement notching his brow as his cerulean blue eyes – that matched mine and Corey's – glinted in amusement. His big hand, dotted with black oil that he more than likely got from tweaking his motorcycle, ruffled through my hair and grinned wolfishly.

I rolled my eyes and giggled, turning back around to place the baked treats in a glass cake dish.

"Sooo..."

"You going to scold me for running again?" I cut him off, my three-month-old Australian shepherd, Kingston, yipping happily at my feet once I finally leaned down and gave him a pet along with a small dog-friendly baked treat.

"No," Brandon walked to the other side of the counter and braced his hands on the counter, looking down into my eyes. "I'm not going to judge you for it. That's Corey's job." he snickered, a soft smile coming upon his face.

I softened my defensive stance and quirked my lips. "Really?" I laughed along with him before becoming more serious. "It's just...instinct. Plus, he's scary."

"I know right!?" my older brother agrees, taking on his pale hair, "That dude just gives off that 'look at me the wrong way and I'll fuck you up', and I'm not going to lie and say I'm not intimidated by him. The dude's taller than me and that's saying something. A fucking beast, that man is, ya know?"

"Exactly," I snorted – before I met Jungkook, my brothers were the tallest men I'd ever encountered – besides Silas that is. And Jungkook was a good inch maybe even two inches taller than my brothers.

"But he's really nice...and gentle when he speaks." and that face is nice. That body is nice. And oh god, even his voice is like heaven on earth – wait...what was wrong with me? I shouldn't be thinking this.

I avoided Brandon's eyes once shuffling was heard at the front door. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and forced a tiny smile.

"I understand you not wanting to get close to him," Brandon ignored the apartment door opening and clenched his jaw. "The man's got baggage...and you're so young to be tied down to all of that."

I jerked back.

Baggage?

What in the dingleberries did he mean?

Moon?

"Moon is not baggage –" I went to argue but I was cut off as an energetic Atlas hollered happily, entering the kitchen.

"Oh hell yes! CUPCAKES!" he squealed like a child, the longer tufts of his dark hair falling into his eyes once he skirted past me.

I threw back and laughed as Brett followed after him – dressed entirely in black but her Gucci golden belt tied the entire outfit together as she threw her arms around me and smirked.

"So tell me what happened last night when that Jungkook picked up Moon!" she said, pulling me from the kitchen. I fought against her playfully as a blush arose on my face at the mention of Jungkook.

Brett would grill me for hours until Mr. Blackbourne or North ordered her to get her butt back home.

Since her accident a year ago; they'd been hesitant to allow her out of their sight, but since I had their full trust, and respect hopefully, the Blackbourne Team trusted me to keep her safe.

Brett's blonde hair smacked me across the forehead as she twirled around and threw her curvy body across my lavender bedspread.

"ATLAS!" she let out a shout at the same time I jumped a foot in the air and slightly glared at her for scaring me. What was with all of these people and scaring the life out of me?

She sent me a 'sorry' look, "Your bitch ass better save me one of those cupcakes or I'll tell Wil to beat your ass the next time you're looking to get fucked!"

"Oh my god." I whimpered into my hands, falling onto the bed.

Yes, this was my life.

***

third pov ; jeon jungkook

"This looks great, man! Thanks!" a man around Jungkook's age exclaimed happily, observing the large tattoo of a dragon with green highlights along the curve of his calf. "This looks sick!"

Jungkook held in a wince as he stood up from his stool and stretched his back. After hours of sitting down, shoulders drawn down, it was a wonder he hadn't developed a crick in his neck.

"I'm glad you're pleased with it." Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle when he was discarding his gloves and washing his hands once his area was sterile once more and ready for another customer.

Working today was a welcome distraction since he had been in a foul mood when he dropped off his baby at the daycare center – hoping to see the woman that had plagued his mind in the best of ways since he saw her angelic face. He was sorely, and furiously mistaken when he realized she wasn't there.

It was only Sang and Kayli there today. No River.

Jungkook rubbed a tattooed hand across his face and let out a sigh as his client left the room and he plopped down on the sofa across the room and stretched his sore muscles.

He wasn't the only one who was severely upset by River's absence, but his little Moon was too. Crying a river — pun intended.

He had hope, since yesterday evening — since they had spoken ( it wasn't enough, in his opinion ), that she would be there.

He hoped she would smile for him today.

Took him forever to calm his baby enough for her to allow Sang to pluck her from his caring, protecting arms.

A smile rose on Jungkook's lips when he eyed the clock on the wall.

But he did get one piece of usable information from River's best friend.

River had been busy getting three dozen cupcakes and other treats completed for a birthday party tomorrow, and later today – at exactly 2 pm, she would visit the library, as she did every Tuesday.

"Hey, Cherry?" Jungkook suddenly called out, jumping to his feet, "Can you reschedule my 2 o'clock appointment to tomorrow?" he asked his secretary, a middle-aged kind women covered in tattoos of all kinds.

She perched her hot pink glasses on the bridge of her nose and nodded, "Sure thing, JK." she said, her long acrylic nails tapping on the keyboard. "I'll just give Malcolm a call."

"Thanks, Cherry," Jungkook said gratefully, twiddling with the multiple rings on his hands as he searched for his car keys.

"I got somewhere to be," he called out, already stalking out the his tattoo shop, TATTERED, "I'll be back later!"

Cherry watched the young dad with a grin on her face and reached for her phone.

She unlocked her phone and dialed a number.

"Erica, that boy's got it bad – I'm just tellin' you, girl. He was blushing a few minutes ago when he told me he'd be back later. It's been like this for months."

On Sunn Vale Court, Erica Lee grinned at her phone as she spoke with her childhood friend. "Let's hope River gets over her fear of being in a relationship," she said with a sigh, looking across the room.

"Stage an intervention," Cherry suggested after a moment of silence. "I just pity the poor boy whenever he comes in every morning sad as a kicked puppy."

Over the next thirty minutes, Erica and Cherry – along with Brett, Atlas, and Gabriel – and most surprisingly, Corey, came up with a plan to help out both parties involved.

author's note ; ✨

if you want to be apart of my taglist, just let me know! As always, thank you so much for reading, and enjoy! I'm grateful for all of you <3

#bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #wattpad #dilf jungkook #jeon jungguk #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bangtan #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkookie

45 notes · View notes

harwinsgirl · 1 year

Text

The White Sheep - Harwin Strong X Reader

You are the second born daughter of King Viserys, often referred to as the White Sheep, as you are too pure to be reminiscent of the black and red colors of your family. You fall in love with your personal guard, Harwin Strong. But when he rejects you, you seek to mend your broken heart in the streets of Kings Landing.

(This is the first fic I’m posting on tumblr! Apologies if the formatting is wacky because I’m on mobile! Hope you like it! Angst with a happy ending because I’m a sucker for it, also slight violence/creepy assholes are mentioned)

The evening had been a long one. A feast, followed by rounds of drinking and dancing, welcomed esteemed guests to Kings Landing. Many of them had hoped to grab either yours or your older sister Rhaenyra’s attention. After all, being one of the daughters of the ailing king who had no sons to offer his realm, it became apparent that one of you would rule the Seven Kingdoms one day, at least for a time. Men salivated at the thought of the wealth and prosperity that would be promised by your hand in marriage. All who tried to win your hearts failed miserably, each attempt fizzling out quicker than the one before it as the two of you grew weary of the men vying for your time. You gave up long before your sister and you tried not to note the look of disappointment on your father’s face when you asked for your personal guard, Ser Harwin, to escort you to your chambers. He certainly did not believe the lie you fed him about having caught a chill from the night air, but after several goblets of wine, the king could not have argued if he wanted to. At least not articulately.

Usually you and your knight would discuss the suitors (and all of their shortcomings) in much detail on the walk back into the castle. There would be laughter and giggles and you would fall into a similar stride before you bid each other goodnight. Sometimes he would even sneak in for a nightcap, enjoying a drink or two and spending time conversing with you until the early hours of the morning. However, this time was different.

This event felt more serious to you. There were men that spoke to you with a tone that was entirely too comfortable, as if they expected that you would accept a proposal if it were offered. They knew certain things that you liked, or didn’t. It was clear that someone was feeding them information in an attempt to make you feel more at ease in their presence. Your father wanted you married, and you couldn’t deny him much longer. But deep down you knew that you didn’t want to marry any of the lords on display tonight. The brazen ones, the old lords with aging hair or the young ones full of bravado and unchecked confidence, the ones who couldn’t hide their interest in the jewels you wore, and even the ones who seemed perfectly nice and proper.

You wanted to marry your knight.

Ser Harwin.

Your feelings for him were strong and they always had been. The day you two became introduced was seared into your memory. Curly brown hair that fell above his shoulders, deep cerulean eyes, a voice as gentle as honey but at the same time rough like the sand. You were transfixed. But if he were simply just handsome, your feelings might have been fleeting, chased away by thoughts of your respective duties. But Harwin was so much more than his looks. He was charming and he had a quick wit about him. Aside from your sister, you rarely had the pleasure of interacting with someone who wasn’t afraid of showing you their true personality, and Harwin was always his authentic self. He was courteous and kind but also lively, full of quips and quiet barbs that never failed to make you laugh. Your personal guard soon became your dearest friend and confidant, and your love only grew deeper from there.

You had been described as the white sheep of your family. Typically one would say black, but you were always described as pure and chaste, the traditional black and red colors of your family not matching your nature. Even your fury had a quietness to it. Having a fiery firstborn sister like Rhaenyra meant that you were hardly noticed or mentioned as an afterthought. Which hardly bothered you, as the freedom your sister so badly craved was almost second nature to you. Although still bound by duty and shackled by royalty, you were afforded much more privacy, whether you chose to hide in the expanse of a library or the greens of the gardens. There was a comfort in aloneness, but there were times where it was too much to bear, where it started to creep into the territory of being forgotten. But Harwin chased away any feelings of loneliness simply by being in the room with you. He made you feel seen, appreciated, even loved.

“We have arrived, princess.” Harwin said quietly, breaking you from your thoughts. Something was off about him too. He hadn’t said a word the whole way back to your room. You didn’t know if you should take comfort in that or not.

“So we have.” You felt a sudden rush of adrenaline course through you, like a flash of fire in your belly. He had to know how you felt. And if not now, then when? Time to talk of these matters was beginning to dwindle, and you knew it. “Would you join me for a moment, Ser Harwin?”

He hesitated. There was a playfulness between you two that he had to come to expect. If things were still truly lighthearted in nature, you wouldn’t have had to ask. You would’ve grabbed him by the arm and dragged him inside already. The first time you had done so he was rightfully alarmed, squabbling about the indecency of it all, but it became such a regular occurrence that he began to just shake his head and take his place in one of the tufted arm chairs that adorned your room.

“The hour has grown late. You should retire soon, princess.” He said gently.

“Please ser,” your voice was heavy and thick with emotion, “I must talk with you.”

Harwin sighed and made a motion for you to enter first. He closed the door behind the two of you and stood in front of it.

The fire inside you started to die, washed away with waves of dread. You didn’t know how to broach the subject, and so you stood there awkwardly, wringing your hands until you mustered the courage to speak. “My father wishes for me to marry.”

Harwin nodded in agreement. “Every man wishes to see his daughter contented with marriage. You knew this day would come. Your father has more at stake compared to others in this same situation. Of course he’s going to try and introduce you to suitors, princess.”

“I do not wish to marry them. I do not love them.”

“My lady-“

“I love you, Ser Harwin.”

Harwin’s expression was unreadable. He had never looked so serious, at least in your presence. You watched him swallow and clear his throat, shifting uncomfortably against the door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before flashing you a small smile. “You flatter me, princess.”

It wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for, but you were undeterred. “I do not intend flatter you ser. I only speak the truth. I love you, Harwin Strong. I want to be your wife.” You approached him and took one of his gloved hands, placing it against your cheek as you looked up at him. He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes again as he stroked your cheek softly. You leaned into his touch and took another step closer, only to be met with him pulling his hand back to place it gingerly on your shoulder, holding you in place.

“My princess, I’m afraid you may be confusing love with infatuation.” Harwin spoke barley above a whisper. His expression was pained, which did nothing to ease the sensation of your heart breaking. “You are so young. There are men who are more suited to be your partner than me. You’ll come to understand this.”

“Very well ser. I thank you for your time and honesty,” you said politely, a fake smile plastered over your face. Of course he didn’t love you. Why hadn’t you seen it before? You were too young, too inexperienced for a man like him. He thought nothing more of you than a silly girl with a crush. Worse, he probably only thought of you as a job, a chore, a burden. All of those memories of his company that once brought you great happiness were tainted with the thought of him counting down the minutes until he could leave. You would not waste his time any longer, you decided.

“The hour has grown late, as you said. I shall bid you goodnight.” You turned and faced the fireplace, hot tears streaming down your face. You bit down on your lip to swallow a sharp cry that threatened to spill forth. Despite your best efforts, Harwin knew immediately how upset you were. He took a step closer to you and began to speak again.

“Princess-“

“Goodnight, Ser Harwin.” You said coldly, not turning to look at him.

You heard the sound of Harwin’s armor clinking softly as he bowed. The creak of the door signaled his exit. Only then did you collapse onto the floor and let out a sob that wracked your whole body. Tears continued to spill until no more could come forth. Your eyes felt heavy, and soon sleep overcame you.

You refused to be seen by your handmaidens the next morning. You also refused breakfast. The only good thing about this affliction of the heart was that it gave credence to your “chill of the night” excuse that you gave your father the evening before.

You did not leave your room the entire day.

When the day had waned and night was beginning to fall, someone knocked on the door and inquired about dinner. Your stomach rumbled at the thought but your appetite immediately soured at the thought of Harwin being outside the door. You declined dinner as well.

Your sister insisted on a maester being sent in to examine you but you managed to charm your way out of that as well. You just wanted to be alone.

You walked over to your window at one point and took in a view of the kingdom as it lit up the dark.

Harwin had practically implied that you were too inexperienced to be his woman. That you were a spoiled, privileged princess that did not know anything of the real world.

That was going to change, tonight.

You sent word for one of your handmaidens to see you at once. You gnawed at your fingernails as the moments passed until finally you heard a small timid knock at your door. You practically pulled her inside by her arm, closing the door quickly in case your knight was waiting outside.

“My lady, we have been worried about you today.” The handmaiden spoke softly. “Are you ill? Can I send for anything for you?”

“I just need your clothes.” You said quickly, trying to ease the confused look on her face with a dismissive wave. “I promise I will take good care of them. I will give you one of my jeweled necklaces as a thank you. This means a lot to me.”

Excited by the promise of your jewelry, the young girl nodded furiously and started to disrobe. You gave her one of your nightdresses to change into and told her to wait several moments before returning to her quarters. After she left, you took great care into tucking your hair into the white cap that she had left you. It amazed you that once you had hidden your signature Targaryen locks and changed your dress that you went from Princess of Dragonstone to handmaiden, all except for the hint of lilac in your eyes.

Your sister had taught you how to escape from the Red Keep before, and even though it had been years, you weaved through the damp tunnels expertly. Once you were outside the main gates, you paused. This was the farthest you had ever gotten before. Rhaenyra was much more adventurous than you, and after she failed to persuade you to join her, she would take off anyway. You admired her fearlessness as you watched her disappear down the road until she was out of sight. You would always wait for her to return, curled up in a cloak as the night air nipped at you. She never chided you for not coming. If anything, when she would come back she would reward you with some little trinket, joking that you were the better of the two and you deserved something for it.

Your sister would have an entire evening of freedom and exhilaration, and you would choose the comfort of the steps of your home, every time.

Not this time.

You hurriedly rushed down the same road your sister took all those years ago, your fears and doubts biting at your insides until you reached the outskirts of Kings Landing. The darkness of night ebbed away with torches and lanterns that were lit in the city streets. You were amazed at how many people were up at the late hour. Men and women drinking, laughing, crowding the roads as they made their way towards taverns and street shows. Vendors offering cooked meats and shoddy jewelry. Drunkards spitting and coughing up their wine, couples intertwined and dancing as bards filled the night air with love songs. It was all too much, too fast, but you were determined to drink it up. Hesitant, you were light on your feet as you took in all of the sights as fast as you could, maneuvering through different alleys as you continued your journey. The farther away you were from home, the better you began to feel. A caged princess, finally experiencing life. Gone were the thoughts of a dutiful, handsome knight who wanted nothing to do with you, banished by the adrenaline of new sights and sounds. You rounded a corner and found yourself in an alleyway that seemed far less lit than the others you came from.

“A handmaiden? A bit surprising to see one of you out and about, aren’t you supposed to stay inside the Red Keep at all times?” You froze, turning to find the owner of the low, ominous voice. A man, who couldn’t be that much older than you, was leaning against a back wall, most of his form still shrouded in darkness.

“Excuse me sir?” You said, internally wincing at how meek you sounded.

“You’re a servant. You’re supposed to stay put, in case you need to serve.” He pushed himself off of the wall and made his way over to you. The first thing you noticed about him was his smell, his breath reeked of ale. Still, the way he approached you was similar to a wolf stalking it’s prey, and you began to feel fear pooling in the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t thought to bring a weapon.

“I’ve seen a few of you out before during the day, fetching things for your ladies. But what could you be doing out in the city during an hour so late? You must’ve snuck out, haven’t you?” He snaked one hand around your waist, drumming his fingers against the velvet skirt of your gown.

“Leave me alone, ser. I have places to be.” You said firmly.

“Insolent. I pity you though, such a pretty little thing without anyone to protect her. I’ll make sure you get home safe, in exchange for your company for the rest of the night.” He smirked, tightening his grip on you. Frantically, you turned your head to look for any passerby to scream for. Immediately sensing your distress, his hand gripped your neck tightly in attempt to silence you before you could try.

“Brat. I’ll remind you what it means to serve.” He snarled.

A quick flash of silver appeared before your eyes before you heard the soft squelch of flesh. Scarlet blood splattered against the white cream fabric of your corset. The man’s hand had been sliced clean off with a sword. He let out the loudest howl you had ever heard as he collapsed back onto the dirt. Quickly, you turned to face the man who attacked him and your blood ran cold. Harwin Strong was wiping his sword clean with a cloth, glaring down at the sniveling man with the burning hatred of a thousand suns. You had never seen this blind fury from him before. You stood rooted to the spot, partly in fear from what would happen next.

“I would say unhand the lady, but I took the liberty of doing that for you.” Harwin spat at him, taking your arm forcefully. “You are lucky no more will come from this, rapist. If the lady wasn’t present, you would have a lot more to lose.”

Harwin’s grip on you was painful but you were too scared to do anything more than follow him as he weaved his way through the crowds, signaling his approach with a grunt to warn others to move out of his way. You earned a couple of a looks from different folk, some of them murmuring about what trouble you must be in for a white cloak to have apprehended you. You tried your best to hide under your bonnet and keep your eyes focused on the road ahead of you. Your night of freedom had nearly cost you your virtue and you were in a significant amount of trouble, should Harwin choose to rat you out to your father.

The sounds of the city began to dwindle as the two of you started to get closer to the castle walls. Harwin had yet to acknowledge you, save the vice grip he continued to have on your arm. Timidly, you began to test the waters. You tapped on his shoulder and waited for him to turn around, to no avail.

You cleared your throat. “Harwin?”

“We are not speaking.” Was his reply.

“What?”

“I said no speaking. I am so angry with you that I do not trust my words.” He said plainly, almost indifferently. Anger started to bubble inside you.

Why the hell was he angry with you? He made it abundantly clear that he did not return your affections. You had spent the entire day pouring over your time together, and each memory led to the realization that you were the instigator. You asked him to be your guard. You asked for his company. You pulled him into your chambers for more time with him, and he used to object to it before giving in to your whims. You were blind to it before, but it was evident that you had essentially held the man hostage in your life. And you wanted no more of it.

“Angry with me? Why? What I do in my own time is no business of yours-“

“Except that it is!” He roared. I am your knight, your sworn protector, and you left the safety of the Keep! How the hell is that not my business?”

Your eyes widened.

You had forgotten to send your letter.

“I am so sorry ser,” you said timidly. Your eyes were cast down, so you didn’t notice the way he flinched at your formality and the softness of your voice. “It slipped my mind this day, I genuinely was not feeling well. I had written a letter to my father, asking for you to be absolved of this role.”

Stunned, Harwin could only watch as your wrought your hands together with nervousness. “Please do not be angry. I did not write anything that would implicate that you did not perform your duties well. In fact, I asked if you could be promoted to the Commander of the City Watch. You would be an excellent commander, even now I can see how well you can handle the brutishness of the city. It would mean a higher wage and nicer quarters as well.” You stopped and looked at him in the eyes. “I only want good things for you, Ser Harwin. Many thanks for taking such good care of me these years. Gods know that you are due for a promotion after all this time in a position you never asked for, nor wanted. I should’ve vouched for you a lot sooner, and spared you from my company.”

“I decline.” He said, firmly.

“I must insist,” you said, smiling sadly. “Again, I am sorry I did not realize sooner.”

“Realize what, may I ask, princess?” Harwin said with an exasperated sigh.

“That you detest me.” You said, cocking your head to the side with confusion. Then you righted yourself, as you had another epiphany. “I know why you are upset.”

“Wha-“

“You are slighted because I am a woman and I am deciding your future, is that not correct? If you do not need my letter-“

“No more talking.” Harwin said bristly. He took your arm and took you off the path towards the Red Keep, which you could see looming in the distance. He led you through a dense thicket, pushing at branches as he made his way to a small creek that bubbled past calmly. It seemed like he knew this area and had been here before. To your surprise, he placed both hands on your shoulder to keep you steady before dropping to his knees in front of you.

“First, my lady, please do not ever insinuate again that I would ever take offense at a woman acting in my interest. A woman brought me into this world. I have nothing but respect for your kind, and I would’ve hoped that you knew that of my character.”

Before you could speak, he took both of your hands in his and squeezed gently, a silent plea for you to let him finish. “I know that what I said last night has planted seeds of doubt in your mind. And for that, I am sorry. What I said was not a rejection, or a dismissal, despite what you may have felt. In good conscience, when I thought about the differences of our statuses, and what I could offer you, I deemed it was best to gently remove myself from your consideration. I could not imagine that being the heir to Harrenhal was enough to persuade your father into taking me as a son-in-law. I wanted to save both of us the anguish of being told we could not love each other.”

He looked down momentarily, only to meet with your eyes again, tears starting to form as he spoke with thick emotion. “But by the gods, was I wrong. I hate myself for implying that your love for me could be fleeting. The sounds of your crying pricked at my heart and I wanted nothing more than to hold you in my arms. Knowing that I had done that to you, it still wounds me, even now.”

He sniffled and shook his head slightly, casting aside the tears that fell. You were still absolutely bewildered by this encounter. Harwin had shared many sides of himself that you were certain many were not as fortunate to see, but you had never seen him so emotional. You had surely never seen him cry.

He cleared his throat and continued again once he regained composure. “When I first came to the estate, I knew I wanted purpose, in whatever form that it came in. But in my short time in Kings Landing, I had already begun to detest it. The nobles were stuffy and the townsfolk deplorable, in a general sense. I was surrounded by so much filth. I found small pockets to escape in, such as this one, and I found beauty in them, but I was not tasked with defending a creek. But I knew I could do my job well enough, no matter the circumstances.”

“And then I met you. The tamest Targaryen. The quiet beauty. Very obviously overlooked, and I could tell in a sense that you enjoyed that. But the way your eyes met mine, that first day we met, it was like you were asking me to know you, and instantly it felt like I had. I don’t think you know this, but I asked to be your guard before you requested it.”

The look on your face confirmed that for him, and he continued. “I knew instantly I had found my purpose. To guard the rarest gem. To keep you safe, to love you in all the ways I could. Listening to you recite poetry and bringing you small plates when you grew hungry. Guiding you to your chambers after long nights. You were absolutely divine and I swore to defend you no matter what.”

“Do you think me a child, Ser Harwin?” You asked quietly. His words were as sweet as cherry wine, but you also worried that perhaps his love was not romantic, but more born from duty and respect. You were after all, the white sheep, and it would make sense for a man as honorable as Harwin to be drawn to you, only to become devoted to your protection.

Harwin smiled and brought one of your hands to kiss it. “Not in the slightest my lady. There’s a difference between being demure and innocent and being naive. You are no child, you are no fool. I only refused your offer because I thought you deserved better. Never because I doubted your conviction. In my attempt to be gentle, I made you feel so low about yourself. Again, I am sorry.”

“What do we do now?” You said softly, staring back into his deep blue eyes. “You do not want to join the city watch, but you do not want my hand-“

“My dearest love, I have rambled on for far too long, because the reason I am on my knees is to ask for your hand.” Harwin said plainly. You let out a small gasp as Harwin produced a small ring, embedded with a white gem in the center.

“Targaryen red never suited you my love, I hope a diamond will suffice.” He said with a grin.

“You are asking me to be your wife?” You said, a hint of incredulousness in your voice.

“Yes my dear lady. Exactly as you said. I am asking you. Your opinion matters most. I will deal with our fathers after the fact, but this is and should be your decision. It may take convincing but ultimately I do believe your father loves you enough to ensure your happiness. I just may need to bring you along to sing my praises.” Harwin held up the ring to you again. “Please, my greatest love. Honor me by allowing me to be your husband. Forgive me for being a fool and denying you. I swear to be yours and only yours for as long as I live.”

You nodded and extended your hand for him, allowing him to slide the ring onto your finger. When you let out a small, happy giggle, a huge grin washed over his face as he stood up and lifted you in his arms, spinning you around as he held you close. His lips were upon yours in an instant, flooding you with a feeling of warmth as he pressed kiss after kiss to your lips, leaving them red and tender.

“I have the most beautiful lady wife in the seven kingdoms!” He practically howled.

When he put you down, his smile faded into a tight line. “Who is also in a world of trouble, sneaking off into the city. That is the first and only time you pull a stunt like that. You will never cause me such grief again.”

“I am sorry, lord husband.” You said wrapping your arms around him and resting against his chest.

“You mustn’t look at me with those big beautiful eyes. I forget my anger when you look at me like that.” He said quietly, his fingers cradling your face.

“You’ve told me your weakness, Harwin. Now that is your mistake.” You said with a grin. He peered down at you and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m beginning to suspect you are not as pure as you present yourself, dear lady of mine.”

“I never was.”

#harwin breakbones #ser harwin strong #harwin strong fic #harwin strong #harwin strong x reader #hotd fic #harwin #harwinsgirl

765 notes · View notes

daisha-mochizuki · 23 days

Text

Wally, as he lay in bed beside Dick, couldn’t stop thinking.

Both of the boys had been unwilling to let the other sleep on the couch, so they had improvised by sharing the full-size bed in Dick’s small bedroom. Neither could sleep, but they chose to stay in silence for the time being.

Wally couldn’t stop the thoughts circling his brain.

Was he not good enough?

Yes, he knew he had been trapped for years, and that Artemis had probably not been able to wait for him, but… it still hurt.

Wally turned his back to Dick instead of when he had been laying out on his back across his half of the bed. Dick also rolled onto his side, but he faced Wally. Dick reached out a tentative hand, gently touching Wally’s bare and freckled arm to try and get his attention.

“Hey…”

Dick’s voice was low and raspy from his attempt at sleep, and he pulled Wally slightly to turn the other boy so they could look at each other. Dick’s cerulean eyes bore into Wally’s peridot-colored ones. Unspoken words passed between them as if they had a special connection. Which, in all fairness, they did, all before Wally had “died”. Nothing has seemed to change minus the time spent apart. A small smile crept across Wally’s face as a thought sparked.

“So…” he started, fully turning onto his side to face Dick. His little smile turned into a lopsided grin, and he reached out to run a hand through Dick’s raven locks in a joking manner as he spoke. “Barry’s told me there’s rumors about you and Zatanna-”

“No!” Dick squeaked, flushing slightly as he realized that with how quickly he had cut Wally off it might seem like he was just denying his feelings. He swallowed, sitting up slightly as he shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. We’re just…”

Both Dick and Wally paused. When Dick had sat up, Wally's hand had slipped from Dick’s hair and down to his bare chest, and neither boy had noticed up till now. Wally quickly pulled his hand back, smiling sheepishly.

“Oops.” Dick only chuckled, rolling his eyes at the speedster's antics. “As I was saying,” he sighed, shaking his head again which thus shook out his thick, dark hair, “we’re just friends. We’re close, sure, but it’s nothing more than that.”

Wally gave Dick a true smile, and this time he didn’t have his hand pressed against Dick’s chest. “I believe you, Rob.” Dick laughed, and it was barely a few seconds later that he pulled his little redhead close, snuggling up to him like a teddy bear.

“Of course, you’d believe me. I’d never lie to you unless it was for your own good.” The redhead huffed, grumbling and pretending to be annoyed, but he really just melted into the cuddles and enjoyed the warmth of his best friend.

Dick snorted upon seeing this, burying his face into Wally’s fluffy hair, but he sighed and squeezed Wally close. “I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry about what?” Wally could feel his heart sinking slightly at Dick’s apology. Whatever it was, Wally doubted it was Dick’s fault. Dick was perfect to him. The speedster clung to Dick, his chin resting on Dick’s chest as he tried to look at the younger boy. “What’s wrong?”

“I should’ve made you stop running. Barry and Bart would’ve had enough speed to stop it themselves. I should’ve done something.” Dick buried his face further into Wally’s hair, his body trembling softly as Wally could hear the slight cries coming from Dick. Wally pressed his face into Dick, the boys enveloping each other in a bout of platonic cuddles.

“Don’t blame yourself…” Wally mumbled into the taller boy’s chest, clinging almost for dear life to the other. “I could’ve stopped whenever I wanted. It’s my fault…” He hated how much Dick blamed himself for Wally’s death. It made him wonder if Dick had been thinking that way for the past seven years. It weighed down on his consciousness even more, now the guilt of losing Artemis and the pain of torturing Dick pressing down on him from all directions. Wally felt a few of his own tears slip down his face, some falling against Dick’s chest and others sliding along paths on his facial features before plopping down onto the sheets below them.

The boys cuddled close to each other for warmth, both ending up silently crying themselves to sleep in the other’s embrace. Wally fell into a light and fitful sleep quite a bit of time after Dick had passed out. He was too anxious and guilty to properly sleep. God, he needed a way to get this out.

“I would love to stay and get you further caught up with everything that’s happened, but I have a meeting that I can’t cancel.” Dick was pulling on his clothes as he and Wally sat in the kitchen, Wally crunching on some cereal as he watched and listened to Dick. He nodded, moving his gaze to his bowl and played with the cereal in the milk.

“…stay safe, okay?” Wally mumbled under his breath, but with the silence in the home, Dick could hear his words perfectly. Dick grinned, and he walked up to Wally to envelop the boy in a tight hug, burying his face into the red curls. He breathed in Wally’s smell, relaxing slightly as he nuzzled his cheek against the top of Wally’s head.

“We promised each other that we would never leave the other alone again. I won’t leave you.” Wally leaned into the taller boy’s embrace as he closed his eyes.

After a moment, Dick pulled back, smiling softly down at Wally. “I gotta go. I’ll be back, at the latest, for dinner. Make sure to take care of yourself and eat lunch; I don’t know if you ate anything when you were in wherever you were.” Dick ruffled Wally’s hair before grabbing his bag and ran out his apartment door. Wally’s gaze followed after Dick, and after hearing the door slam shut he sighed and got up to throw his cereal away. It had gotten soggy with how long it had sat. He then plopped back down into his seat at the kitchen table, sighing to himself as he buried his face into his folded arms that were crossed on the table. He was alone, and would be alone, for hours. He was stuck with only his thoughts, and his thoughts now weren’t happy and pleasant ones. Dark self-loathing thoughts swirled deep in the depths of his mind, and it all began to overwhelm him as he shrunk down on himself in his despair and guilt.

Suddenly, a voice Wally vaguely recognized called out.

“Big Bird! Didja get a new medkit that I could use?” Wally looked up, confusion on his face and slight tears in his eyes from his thoughts, right as two people came wandering into the kitchen in search of Dick. His green eyes widened as he was met with the sight of Roy, mechanical arm and all, practically carrying another man under his good arm. Roy practically dropped the man, and the man himself gasped loudly upon seeing Wally. Both males nearly screamed.

“WALLY?!!” They both launched themselves at Wally, who screeched and nearly fell out of his seat. Wally could barely breathe as he was being squeezed, and he squeaked slightly as the two surrounded him. Roy laughed, and the man he had recognized was hugging Wally while staring at him in awe.

“My God, Dick talked to me about you when I came back and was no longer killer, but fuck you’re different in person.” Wally squinted, and then he gasped.

“Jason?!”

Jason grinned, the really, really tall man nearly cradling Wally in his arms. “Guess I’m still as recognizable as I used to be.” He pretended to do a little hair flip, which made Wally giggle a little.

“Well, we came here to find Dick for a medkit, but we found something better instead,” Roy said, now sitting on the floor in front of Wally as Jason stood behind the speedster with his arms wrapped around him. “Where is Dick, by the way?”

“Oh, some meeting he wouldn’t tell me about,” Wally grumbled with a mock-annoyed look, but he couldn’t help but laugh and shove Jason’s face away as Jason was jokingly trying to smother Wally. Roy smirked as he watched Wally and Jason playing, rolling his eyes at the dorky behavior.

“I’ll be right back.” Roy got up and walked out of the kitchen, off on a search for the medkit. Wally leaned back and played with the white strands of Jason’s hair, Jason in turn laughing. “Big baby.”

“Tall child.”

“Speed demon.”

“Gun violence.”

Jason gasped, feigning hurt, before pushing Wally off of his chair and onto the floor. Wally grunted, sprawling out on the floor, and looked up at Jason with a scowl.

“Meanie.”

“I'm not mean. You’re just sensitive.”

Wally’s breath caught in his throat at that, and his heart squeezed with guilt and sadness, but he didn’t let it show. He didn’t want to prove that he was sensitive. He was about to say something when Roy came back, medkit in robotic hand, and placed his free hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Jay, we gotta go.” Roy then looked at Wally, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to leave you, but we have missions to do.” Wally shrugged and tried to look unbothered.

“I’ll be fine.”

Jason smirked, and he followed after Roy as they both left from where they had come into the apartment. Wally sighed, his mask of an expression falling. He was lying. He wouldn’t be fine. He didn’t want to be alone. Was he really that sensitive? His brain began to think faster than he could fully process, leaving him feeling overwhelmed and in need of an output. His gaze flicked toward the knife board that was near the refrigerator. His eyes narrowed, sucking in a sharp breath. Should he? He wasn’t sensitive. He could prove it. He would prove it…

Dick came home, hours later, only to find Wally on his couch. He was desperately trying to rebandage his legs while panicking, and the bandages weren't going on properly with how fast he was trying to bandage them.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Dick dropped his bags and rushed over, pressing his hands over the spots that were slightly bandaged and trying to help stem the bleeding, ignoring the blood that dripped into his hands. “I thought I told you that you had to stay here!”

Wally sobbed, trembling as he sat and kept trying to bandage himself up. “I-I didn’t go anywhere…”

“Then what did you-?!”Dick cut himself up, and his eyes widened as he looked up at Wally’s face from where he was sitting on the floor. His blue eyes began pooling up with tears once the realization hit him. “Wally…”

“I didn’t realize the knife wasn’t serrated,” Wally choked out, his sobs catching in his throat as he panicked. “I didn't want this. I don’t want to die for real.”

Without further hesitation, Dick scooped Wally up into his arms, bolting out of his apartment and out to his car. “I’m getting you to the hospital! I’m not losing you again!” He strapped Wally’s pale and bleeding form into the front seat, and he got into the driver’s seat himself. He then began speeding off, trying not to go too much over the speed limit but was definitely crossing some boundaries in how fast he could go. The pair reached the hospital only a few minutes later, Dick scooping Wally back into his arms again and rushed to the emergency room. They checked Wally in, took him from Dick’s arms, and they wheeled him off into a different room. Dick was forced to sit in the waiting room, the man sitting impatiently in fear for his friend.

God, Wally, be okay… Dick had lost track of time, but some time later, a doctor came back with Wally, with Wally curling up into Dick’s lap as the doctor spoke quietly with Dick. They got to go home, and Dick made the ultimate decision to just carry Wally around the whole time. Wally didn’t speak, just staying curled against Dick in silence.

They didn’t even eat dinner. Both were too stressed with everything that had happened for food.

Dick held Wally against him as they lay in bed again, Wally having changed out of his blood-stained clothing. The younger male squeezed Wally, face pressed into the red hair as he took shaky breaths. He kept muttering under his breath, words of comfort and reassurance that Wally was okay.

He wasn’t dead.

He wasn’t losing Wally.

Wally felt guilty for scaring Dick, and Dick could tell, because he spoke to Wally instead of himself this time. “

You’re okay. Everyone gets overwhelmed sometimes,” Dick cooed, running his fingers through the back of Wally’s hair as Wally snuggled closer to him. He then sighed. “I'm bringing you to Dinah, though. In the morning.”

“But-” Wally started, but was cut off.

“No. It’s not just because of this you’re talking to her. It’s about everything.” Dick then grinned, tilting Wally’s head up to look into Wally’s eyes as he spoke. “We could get ice cream afterward.”

Wally gasped, acting dramatically as he tried to hide his small giggles, and was thankful for the topic change. “Ice cream? The frozen delicacy? My word!” Dick laughed and hugged Wally tight. Wally could feel the rumbles of Dick’s laughter through Dick’s chest.

“Go to sleep, Wally. I’ll be here.” And Wally did just that, falling asleep with a smile at the prospect of the childish prospect of ice cream. Being a child never hurts anybody though, right?

“One mint chocolate chip, and one vanilla chocolate swirl, please.” Dick tried not to break out laughing as he ordered, watching Wally bounce on the balls of his feet with his hands holding the rim of the serving counter, looking just like a little kid. He took the two cones as they were handed to him and handed Wally the vanilla and chocolate one.

They began a walk, their hands brushing as they strode along the tree-shaded path, enjoying the other’s company and their ice cream.

“You know, I’m proud of you for talking to Dinah,” Dick said, glancing at Wally as they walked. Wally looked up and smiled.

“Really?”

“Of course. I mean, I know Dinah’s pretty persuasive, but I don’t know if I could’ve talked to her.”

“Oh, I doubt that. You’re perfect,” Wally blurted, and then quickly shoved half of his cone into his mouth to shut himself up. Dick laughed softly, his hand brushing against Wally’s again as they walked along, a few leaves falling from the trees above and blowing around them.

“Eh, I wouldn’t call myself perfect. I mean, look, I just spent money for us to get ice cream,” he joked, playfully shoving Wally’s shoulder. Wally scoffed and shoved Dick back.

They both started play-fighting as they walked, ice cream finished, until they heard a voice behind them.

“Hey, Dick! Who’s your new friend?”

Wally paled. He knew that voice. He turned around to face the person, and they gasped loudly, a hand going up to their chest as their eyes widened.

“Wally…?”

29 notes · View notes