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astraymetronome · 1 year

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Your Crown, My Flower: Both Ruined Beyond Repair

Summary

Having found her brother again, Lumine refuses to let him leave without a discussion. Is bringing up their past a low blow, probably, but they need to talk. They might never get another chance before everything reaches its climax. Before something happens to either of them.

Notes

The song for this One-shot is Youth by Daughter, on Spotify.

My friends got me into the Genshin Fandom and now I’m in deep. Do not worry, I’m still going to make Mha content. This is just exploring new waters. Also, I chose the Female Traveler when I started so- Most of my content will probably be from Lumine’s point of view or based around her.

Despite the tragedy from five hundred years ago, the dust around Khaenri’ah had yet to settle. The ash hue of a home once destroyed will last far more lifetimes than the people it once held.

It feels…

Strange.

After all this time their reunion, the final reunion, is here. Fate has been her best friend, and learning of the past and what it held for the Archons has allowed her to recognize a losing battle. Even with all of the new knowledge and their meetings, she just has more questions and fewer answers.

When they first came here, to this world. Teyvat seemed so promising until she was awoken by him. Aether was so panicked. She could barely remember watching this kingdom crumble. The only thing that truly sticks out to her was the sight she saw. She didn’t believe him. She refused to believe such a wonderful place, with its beautiful people and growth, would fall to ruin. Lumine’s memory only grasped at rushing feet, the burn in her chest on top of the scrapes on her hands and knees. The ash and dirt clung to skin and clothes like tar.

Their destination wasn’t the beautiful sight she once knew, but instead the rubble of a once complete home. Lumine couldn’t help the flashes of her past as she stepped over the eroded stone and the overgrown vines. These flowers she still wore in her hair seemed to no longer grow here, as dead as the memories made here.

Paimon was hovering over her shoulder, sticking closer than she normally did, as heels clicked against the road. Golden eyes couldn’t help drifting back to her every now and then. Their months together have grown a bond she wouldn’t trade for anything, but her brother, even now, was still her priority. If Lumine could, and if she allowed it, she wouldn’t mind bringing Paimon with her when they travel once more. She’d love the different kinds of food that can be found in new worlds but, at the same time, she knew she’d miss it here.

Just like she misses her home.

Their home.

If she still had her wings, she’d leave this place, maybe even Teyvat as a whole. That wasn’t possible anymore. Lumine didn’t even have Aether or any knowledge of the unknown god who stole their flight.

As she grew closer to the chaos, the abyss seemed to deepen the signs of the land’s pain. The wind blew harder and the dust in the air grew thicker. Lumine’s blonde hair probably no longer matched her bright eyes. She could feel the tension all over this place, it made sense considering everything it held. The sight of the cooled magma was rather nerve-racking. She didn’t enjoy the memory it brought to the surface.

Why did it always have to bring the red back?

She hated it.

Paimon was coughing behind her, so she didn’t hesitate to turn to the small floater. Her childlike friend was quick to wave her free hand around before speaking up. “Paimon is fine! Don’t worry about her!” She said swiftly as she went ahead and moved around. Lumine didn’t mind having her do this, she was so used to the fidgeting and fly-like nature she held it wasn’t a bother.

“It’s okay Paimon, let’s just focus on getting through these ruins.” She said calmly as she watched her guide nod eagerly before the sound of rumbling forced her to be on guard. She’d become very protective of her friend considering she was a decent airhead. Her right arm swung around to defend Paimon as her left hand grasped a sword. Her golden eyes once again roamed the surroundings as she tried to gather an idea of the situation. When no threats showed up, she moved forward while keeping the floater near her. She kept her weapon at the ready, planning to avoid any surprises.

Her hands felt surprisingly clammy as exhaustion began to way on her. Lumine hadn’t had a proper rest in a while. She’s been very committed to her brother and has done everything she’s been told in order to make sure she increases her chances.

They had to find each other… Eventually…

Before she knew it, Paimon’s voice was rather fuzzy to her ears and the deep blue, purple mist around them began to flood her blacking vision. She felt her knees collide, rocks cutting into her skin as she instinctively put her sword away and wrapped her arms around her friend. Paimon was basically a child, after all, she had to ensure she was safe. The small arms that wrapped around her neck made her tension relax as she passed out, her vision completely gone. She really should have considered the noise they made, maybe she should rethink her heels.

_____

Lumine could tell she wasn’t in the greatest condition. Her head was pounding and she could feel small hands shaking her side. She let her eyes blink open, revealing the glittering gold irises back to the sky as she turned. Paimon’s galactic gaze immediately softened as she met her. The traveler noticed a few tears forming in her childlike eyes as she spoke up. “Paimon thought it happened again, like Inazuma.”

Her own gaze became more gentle as she reached over and pulled her small friend close. “I’m okay Paimon. Inazuma isn’t gonna happen again. I promise.” Lumine whispered to her. She could feel her small hands once again gripping her dress as her head burrowed into her collarbone. Despite how much they both needed this reassurance, she refused to allow herself to relax. The abyss has let them live this long, so they either have a plan or her brother is up to something.

As her eyes wandered their surroundings, she took note of the still present ruin. The room they were in had poorly patched walls and big gaps in the bars. Paimon could probably get through them if she tired, right now that might be their own option. She sighed as she stood up, not planning to let go until her small companion decided to release her. She noticed one bed, if they were here long enough she’d either let Paimon use it or she’d allow her to sleep against her. Either way, she didn’t want to let her feel more stressed.

Lumine continued with scoping out their prison, making sure she took note of every little crack and fix. If they needed to, she was doubtful of their patch skills. It was at least a hope. She took note of how almost every crevice had moss or some kind of vegetative growth. She figured this area had to at least have a way for water to get in without the sun to allow plants to grow. She sighed as she went ahead and continued to hold her young friend.

She knew there was a chance Paimond was far older than she was but, either way, she was more of a child so she’d refer to her as one. She may be all-knowing and be aware of things the Archons haven’t even touched but, deep down, she was a little kid.

It didn’t take much longer for her to move away from her torso, rubbing her red-rimmed eyes. She didn’t blame her for her reaction, she understood the fear and frustration of losing someone so, she simply smiled and allowed a comfortable silence. Lumine was aware she needed to bring up the possible escape, but she also didn’t want to cause any more stress. It didn’t take Paimon long to notice her hesitancy though.

“Do you have any ideas?” She asked calmly as she continued to hover around her shoulders, sticking a little closer than normal. A small sad smile formed on her face as she reached over and ruffled Paimon’s hair, being careful of her crown-like halo.

“I do, but I am doubtful you’ll enjoy it..” Lumine admitted as she went ahead and gently brought her closer to the bars. “I think you could free us. You’re small enough to fit through the bars, Paimon.” She added as she pointed towards the locking mechanism. The floater seemed to grow quiet as she glanced back over at her.

“Paimon can do it.” She said swiftly, her fists resting on her hips as she swayed a little. A smile was on her face, clearly hiding her stress as she went ahead and carefully moved through the bars.

The blonde was quick to push her arm through the bar as well as she tried to keep the pale child calm. She knew how stressed Paimon could get. Lumine wanted to try her best in order to assist her small friend.

She watched over her as the white-haired child worked at the lock. She smiled a small bit as the small girl gave a bright one in response as she managed to pull the door open. Lumine was quick to make her way out before she scooped her up into her hold. She was pleased with her achievement, not really able to get truly mad with Paimon.

They stepped out of the cell and into the hall without any hesitancy. Her golden eyes once again covered their surroundings as she began to step forward. The depleted look of the cell continued in this area as they both fell into a small rhythm. Lumine was sure to keep the small being close to her as she walked. A soft reassuring smile was on her face as she kept checking on Paimon.

Their peace didn’t seem to last long, soon shouting and yelling grabbed her attention. Without much thought, she grabbed the small wrist and began to rush towards the exit. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Paimon to keep up, more of the fact she was worried they’d manage to catch up to them and get her first. Lumine couldn’t leave her behind.

As she ran, she took notice of a forking path, it didn’t truly matter since the left had some abyss mages and a herold. It wasn’t that she couldn’t take them, more that she didn’t want to risk getting surrounded. She bolted down the right path and continued to bring the floater with her. The many twists and turns of separating hallways seemed intimidating but she couldn’t stop. Soon a door was in her way, There was nowhere to turn and she could hear them behind her.

In a moment she collided with the door and forced it open, immediately blocking it with a combination of Geo and Dendro. She was panting as she finally let go of her small friend, blinking in response to the sudden light that had met her eyes. It had been close to sunset when they’d attacked the first time, so she had to guess they’d been out all night.

Lumine summoned her sword as she began to step forward. She ignored the heave of her chest as she felt small hands on her shoulders. Paimon was peeking over her shoulder of course, and that didn’t surprise her. She could hear her shoes continue to click against stone and debris. She was just about to take a breath when she noticed, the pursuit had never even attempted to get past her blockade. She was just about to turn and tear it down before a familiar voice stopped her.

“Lumine.”

She felt her heart drop as she turned around to find who owned that voice.

His voice.

She found him.

Again.

Lumine refused to let it happen again. He would not leave her.

She refused to let him go.

“Aether!” She called out in response, before managing to spot his golden hair. She stepped forward, his eyes meeting hers. She wanted to rush forward and hug her twin, her brother desperately. Of course, she knew he wouldn’t allow it. At least not yet. Her voice was about to ring out once more before he overwhelmed hers.

“Why did you come here?” He said blankly.

Lumine didn’t think twice before she spoke up as Paimon continued to grip her skin. “Why do you think?! I came to find you!” She told him as she stepped closer, taking note of how he approached her simultaneously. Her brother always spoke with his body language and not his voice. She was the same way when speaking felt like a curse, it was the main reason she’d helped all these people. She didn’t see it as much of a horror as she used to. Helping others gave her a purpose in this trying time, but it didn’t mean she didn’t regret it. Each Archon she saw sent her to the next, it was a cycle of abomination.

She hated it so much, but she also needed to get to her brother. Aether was her main reason for exploring this world and experiencing Tayvet. “I told you, ‘You will see for yourself the true nature of this world.’ Don’t you think there is a reason!” She didn’t expect to hear him scold her for this. Lumine just wanted her brother back, was that so much to ask!?

“I’ve been looking for you for over a year! I’ve explored four of the seven nations Tayvet has to offer! How are the final three going to change my opinion!” She snapped back as he got closer to her. She could feel as Paimon shifted behind her before peaking over her shoulder, she knew the pain she’d been through. She wasn’t surprised she had her own words for Aether.

“Your sister has been worried about you! Lumine has almost died so many times to find you!” The floater told him as she glared at her twin brother.

The blonde was quick to tuck Paimon under her arm when her brother raised his sword. She felt a growl rise in her throat as she pulled out her own blade and countered his swing. He swore he’d never harm her. He never once attempted to pull his blade on his own blood. “Hold your tongue.”

“Aether! What in the stars!” She barked at him as she held her own blade out at a distance. She kept her arm protectively wrapped around Paimon as she continued. “You can be mad at me! You can be upset, but don't you dare harm her!” Lumine told him as she pushed the tip of her sword against his Adam's apple. As his hands lifted in surrender and his sword dissipated she pulled it away from him and took a few steps.

She didn’t know how to feel about him. Aether had changed so much. She was mad at him but also sad. She hasn’t seen him in forever or touched him and here they were, their first contact in a year. It was her sword against his throat. She hated this but she also refused to let him harm her friend. She watched the way he seemed to be taken aback by her words.

Lumine did not care for that right now, she had emotions and it wasn’t fair for her brother to be calling her weak for attachments. He’d been devastated when Khaenri’ah perished. He loved their people and home and here he was, refusing her for building connections. The silence between them spoke more than any conversation they could have.

Aether wasn’t the same person she knew. No matter how much she could beg or scream, he was gone. All that was left was someone who appeared like her twin while lacking the loving gaze and touch he’d always held. She wanted to yell at him, so badly, but it would get them nowhere.

“Finish your path Lumine, then come find me.” Aether said bitterly as he began to turn from her. She couldn’t help the pain that flooded her chest from the pure neglect his voice held. He didn’t sound like himself anymore. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She progresses through each nation only to be told she has to repeat herself. Each place is the same in some way and she despises it. The repetitive nature killed her inside because, each time she got her hopes up, Aether was further away.

The pain was so overwhelming but she refused to let it overpower her. She was done doing this for him, this journey was about her now. Lumine needed answers. She was going to get them no matter how long it took but, he was going to pay for each second.

“Do you remember how much our mother used to hate our pranks?” She said calmly as she kept her eyes on the ground. They hadn’t seen her in hundreds of years ever since their planet was ruined. “We couldn’t switch who we were since we’re fraternal but, we still scared her to death daily.” Lumine added with a shaky laugh.

Her eyes didn’t move from the ground as she closed them and continued. “Mom told us to rely on each other since we were forever connected. Yet, here we are.” She added before lifting her arms up and motioning. His eyes were the same as here, shade and all, but right now he was angry. “Aether and Lumine, born from the same star.”

“Shut up.” He said swiftly. She could see his pain even through the tears in her eyes.

“No.”

“I refuse.”

Lumine would not be the reason her brother decides to give up on their home and memories. “Mother would have been proud of us. We don’t have to save Tayvet or fix their problems, and you know that!” She yelled out at him as she looked over to Paimon.

Her weak smile was hardly visible through her emotions but she knew the floating girl saw it. She was quick to wrap her arms around her as she kept her back turned to him.

“You do know where this is going, right? You’re becoming more violent Aether.” She told him and began to continue. “One of us-”

“Don’t go there!”

He snapped.

“You know I'd never-”

“No, I don’t. I’ll never know.”

She admitted before returning her gaze to him. Her eyes were full of tears that leaked down her face and onto the dusty stone beneath them.

“I don’t know you anymore Brother, you’ve become a stranger Aether.” She said simply as she gave him her truth. Her brother wasn’t who she knew. He wasn’t the boy she’d grown up with.

Who knows if she’ll ever get him back.

#genshin impact #female traveler #lumine #male traveler #aether #paimon #angst #hurt no comfort #angry paimon #imprisonment #swords #Spotify

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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

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Courtship: Together

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Thank you all for your patience and happy reading!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption.

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AO3 version

“Really, I insist.”

“And I insist you sit down and relax while we finish preparing your party,” Lilia says as he pushes Malleus back down in his seat; the grand stone throne at the top of the double staircase in Diasomnia’s main lounge room. “We’re nearly done, anyway!”

Malleus tries to argue that setting out a few plates of food or lighting a few candles himself is no big issue, but Lilia skips away before he can get another word in. He continues to watch as the rest of his dorm mates decorate and rearrange the lounge into a grand venue befitting a birthday bash. Every so often, he checks his phone and rereads the last few messages you sent to him. You wrote you would arrive soon and would inform him when you were outside. He was getting antsy the longer he waits. There was even a moment where he was unsure if you knew the way to his dorm and panic-offered to escort you just in case. He snuck out for you once, and he’d do it again if you only asked.

The somber doorbell rings, and he immediately shoots up onto his feet. Lilia excuses himself so he can answer the door, but Malleus quickly descends the stairs and catches him by the shoulder before he can leave the room. “I’ll get it,” he says, leaving no room for a rebuttal from his caretaker. He hears several shouts of his name and approaching footsteps, but no one completely follows him into the halls, most likely thanks to Lilia holding them back. Even as he puts more and more distance between him and the venue, he swears he can hear the elder fae’s playful giggles echoing in the distance.

He picks up his already hurried pace at the sound of the bell ringing again. He’s a bit out of breath by the time he reaches the door and takes a few moments to straighten up and calm his pounding heart before welcoming you in. His efforts to appear calm and collected are all for naught, as he feels his breath being taken away when he opens the door and sees you. While you’re always wonderfully dressed, seeing you dressed in attire that is just a smidge more formal and fanciful strikes a carnal chord he didn’t know existed till this very moment. Black and green are the signature colors of Diasomnia. While your dress shirt isn’t the traditional vibrant green, instead it is a dark and rich hue, he can’t help but wonder if it would be too rude or outright ridiculous to ask you to wear it more often.

“Hey!” you greet with a bright smile on your face. “See? I made it here just fine.”

“Thank goodness,” he lets out a relieved sigh. “I thought I may have had to pick you out of a thorn bush.”

You let out a hearty laugh at his comment as he ushers you inside. He observes you as you look around and take in the decor of his dorm. While the architecture of Diasomnia is a typical design within the Valley of Thorns, his own home especially, he knows from a few off-handed comments that some students find the dorm gloomy and even downright unwelcoming. He supposes the green flames that bathe the walls and windows in an ominous glow can be a bit intimidating to those not used to them, but you don’t appear bothered by it at all. In fact, you’re dragging him in the opposite direction of the lounge and insisting that he show you around his dorm.

“I’m not leaving ‘till I see your room,” you firmly state.

“Why would you want to see my room?” he asks.

“Y’know?” You point back and forth between him and yourself. “You’ve seen my room, so now I get to see your room.”

That sounds awfully familiar.

“What is your name, child of man?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” you answer nonchalantly, completely unintimidated or disturbed by his presence. “What’s yours?”

His eyebrows furrow with annoyance. “It is proper to give your name when asked.”

“That isn’t how mutual introductions work where I’m from,” you scoff. “You’re supposed to give me your name, and then I give you mine.” you point back and forth between you and himself to better emphasize your explanation. As if you were trying to make sense of the difference between right and wrong to a child.

He feels the urge to growl in the back of his throat. “You’re rather ill-mannered, human.”

“I don't think any reasonable person would feel safe giving out their name to a tall guy with horns, wandering around an abandoned dorm that’s seen better days,” you bite back. “You aren’t making a great case for yourself either.”

After his mind finishes playing back the very first memory and conversation he has of you, he gently grabs you by the shoulder and leads you in the opposite direction. “Very well,” he concedes.

He guides you down several long halls, past the other standard-sized dorm rooms and other empty rooms. The large double doors of his room eventually come into full view, and when you turn and ask him if that was his room, you give him a giddy smile when he confirms it is. His room is rather plain. The only personal items he has are a few pennants above his desk given to him by Lilia many decades ago, and a giant statue shaped as the Witch of Thorn’s dragon form. While there isn’t anything in particular that he’s embarrassed by you seeing, he worries you might find the lack of personal decor boring, upsetting even. You have little else in your room as well, but compared to his it may as well be a treasure trove.

“Huh,” you step in and look back and forth, taking in his private space in all its unassuming glory. “So this is what a dorm leader’s room is like!”

The first place that catches your interest is the bed, which you unashamedly fall back on, arms spread out to bask in the space underneath you. If seeing you on his bed wasn’t enough to stir his heart, it would be the fact that another one of your shirt buttons came undone, exposing more of your collarbones and the middle of your chest to his obsessive gaze.

“Damn, I’d kill for a bed this big,” you grumble. “Do you know how much of a pain it is, sleeping with a bunch of full-grown wolves, four newborn pups, and a steadily growing deer?”

“You can always order them out of your room at night,” he suggests.

You fall back on his bed again with a groan. “Believe me, I’ve tried! They nearly scratched my door off and kept me up all night with their loud howling.”

You and your deep, unspoken love for animals. It seems it’s coming back to bite you in small ways. “You’re much more pliable than I thought!” he says, laughing behind his palm.

“Whatever,” you lift yourself and give a dismissive wave with your hand. Something catches your eye, as you look him up and down before tilting your head inquisitively. “Aren’t you supposed to have a sash with your outfit?”

He is, but what you don’t know is that he purposely left it in his closet, hoping you would notice and bring it up as you did just now. The reason and overall style of this birthday suit perplexed Malleus, but he’ll admit that it wasn’t an unwelcome surprise when the headmaster dropped it off the other day. He was actually hoping it would be you that presented it to him as you did with Lilia’s identical outfit on his birthday. However, that one time was because the headmaster had another obligation and handed the task to you last minute. It was the first time Malleus saw you since the end of the winter break, when his love confession went awry. It was awkward and nerve-racking, as to be expected considering how things went. But when you smiled and called him “tsunotarou” (much to Sebek’s disdain), it helped affirm the words the two of you had been exchanging over the phone, that you and he are still friends and that you still cared about him.

As he had hoped, you quickly offer to put the sash on for him when he mentions it still being somewhere in his wooden wardrobe. Your movements are swift and unassuming, but he can’t help the way his shoulders tense up when you put your arm around him to wrap the sash around his torso. Once the strip of fabric is properly secured, you run your hands over his clothes to smooth out the small wrinkles and bunched-up fabric. Your actions feel like a burst of electricity against his skin, even though there were several layers of clothes separating your bare flesh from his.

You casually wipe your thumb over the purple gem on his lapel pin before saying, “White suits you.”

“Is that so?” He timidly raises his hands to button up your dress shirt, just the one button that was undone earlier. He knows you hate having it buttoned up all the way. “I thought you said red suited me best?”

“I still think it does!” you chuckle. “But I’ve never considered you in something white until now. I guess I have to make you a white coat now.”

“You don’t have to,” he insists. “The one you made for me is fine as it is.”

“That’s good,” you smile. “All those years of helping my aunt sew and mend clothes for my cousins finally came in handy.”

“That would be your second aunt, correct?”

You’re visibly surprised at his comment, but you quickly give him a rather adorable smile. “That’s right!” you chant. When he asks you why you’re smiling so sincerely, you answer, “You’re the first person who’s been able to tell which of my aunts I’m talking about without naming them.”

“You speak of them often, so it’s expected that I’d be able to distinguish who you’re referring to after some time.”

“Well, shut me up if I mention them one too many times,” you insist, eyes averted from his own as you fidget with the ribbon tails of his celebratory bow near his breast pocket, his birth month and day were written with shimmering gold foil.

“Nonsense,” he frowns, redirecting your gaze to him so he can look you in the eyes. “They’re your family. If they’re important to you, then they are to me as well.”

While it’s true that you speak or make a frequent mention of your aunts during your many late-night strolls with him, Malleus’s ability to tell which one you’re referring to is mostly due to him carefully listening to each of your stories like they were gospels, writing seemingly rudimentary information down in his private journal to later read back by himself. Initially, he kept a record because your stories about the life you’ve lived alongside your rather rambunctious human family intrigued him. As his infatuation for you grew, he hoped that by showing you he remembers these moments of your life that you’ve shared with him, it would be a clear sign that he deeply cared not just about you, but also the family you deeply care for.

“Honestly,” you sigh and give him a playful look. “You really know how to tug on my heartstrings, don’t you?”

Malleus has done his best to remain calm and composed in your presence ever since he came to terms with his feelings towards you. As always, you shatter his efforts completely just by being your genuine self, open and honest with your thoughts. You seem to relish his red-faced meltdown, pulling him into a comforting hug while also laughing at him. He hopes you don’t think it strange, the way he seamlessly leans against you and melts in your arms. There’s a pleasant fragrant he picks up in your hair, fresh and floral, specifically like roses. He knows you like to make and use rose water every once in a while to keep your skin moisturized and your hair healthy. His heart is on the verge of bursting through his chest, thinking about you using it specifically with him in mind.

Is this your way of enticing him? It’s not much, but it’s working.

You pull away from him when your phone briefly rings. “Looks like they finished,” you announce as you skim over the newly received message, most likely from Lilia. “We should probably head there now before Sebek gets impatient and hunts you down like a rabbit.”

At the mention of his well-meaning, but loud retainer, Malleus and you leave his room and walk back to the venue together. Along the way, he acts bold and grabs your hand as you hurriedly walk side by side. You don’t pull away when his fingers interlock with yours. Instead, you squeeze and swipe the callus pad of your thumb over his knuckles, a silent assertion that his gesture is okay with you. A shy smile adorns his face. When he spares a glance over at you, he sees one as well.

“I know it’s only been 5 days,” he nervously mentions aloud. “But is it safe for me to presume that you already have an answer?”

“Pretty much,” you casually answer, but you still sounding quite sure of yourself. It sends his heart, mind, and body into a hopeful frenzy. “But as you said, it’s only been 5 days. I still have 2 more days left before my deadline hits and I’m taking all the time I’ve given myself.”

That cheeky tone of yours doesn’t go amiss. In normal Ramshackle fashion, you’re going to keep him at his wits’ end for your own amusement. He doesn’t know if he should feel more annoyed or more enchanted by you. Perhaps a mix of both? Truly, only you can make him feel this way.

“Honestly,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “You are by far the most troublesome human I’ve ever met.”

He halts his hurried pace. And you do as well. He grasps your still intertwined hands together with his other hand, holding it carefully like they were as fragile as glass. Your skin is covered in scars, both recent and old, that came from years of foraging and enduring the natural difficulties of mother nature. However, to him, these permanent markings are more precious than the rarest gem or the finest silk. Your hand is neither too large nor too small within his. It sits just right within his grasp like they were made for him to hold and caress as he is doing now.

“I suppose that makes you the person that you are,” he smiles down at you after letting out a curt laugh. “and it is you who I love and cherish immensely, with all that I am and ever will be.”

Perhaps it is in poor taste to repeat the same words he first told you during his initial confession, but there are no other words he could weave together that can equally convey to you the extent of his feelings other than these. He knows he’s getting ahead of himself. He knows that he’s agreed to abide by the time you’ve asked of him. His words are his bond, literally and figuratively.

He’s just so damn in love with you. He’s willing to act a bit more reckless than he usually is just to expedite the days where he can have you by his side and be together with you at last.

He barely catches it, but thanks to the quiet halls, he’s able to pick up the mumbled words you speak. “You’re making me lose my sense of patience, dammit.”

“Young master!” Sebek’s booming voice echoes down the hallways before Malleus can press your comment further on. His impending presence is enough to make you let go of one of him and take a step back to set some space between you and him. “Where are you?!”

He was much closer than he sounded, as you and Sebek nearly topple over each other when you both turn down the same corner. Thankfully, Malleus acts quickly enough and catches you before you could fall to the ground, and you thank him shortly after you’ve righted yourself up.

Malleus looks up at Sebek and asks, “Why on earth are you sprinting down the halls?”

“The human has failed to respond to Sir Lilia’s message, so he sent me to retrieve you both!” Sebek states, a bit too loudly for your liking as you click your tongue and rub your temples to relieve the growing headache. Malleus has assured you that Sebek’s volume is something you’ll grow accustomed to. It seems the day has yet to come.

“Well, we’re here,” you halfheartedly try to reassure the boy. “So can you please use your inside voice?”

“You!” now it was Sebek’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Did I not give you an hour-long lecture on proper attire for the occasion?! Today is Master Malleus’s birthday, and you look no different from what you look like any other day!”

“What?!” you look at his retainer with utter bewilderment. “I am dressed up! I even went out and bought a damn blazer just to fall in line with your strict rules!”

“You’re not wearing it properly!” Sebek gestures to your rolled-up sleeves and the two undone buttons of your dress shirt. “Honestly, I expected better conduct from you, prefect!”

“Just shut up and walk, Zigvolt!” you fume and push the young fae down the hall, ignoring his continuous strings of scoldings and high expectations of you. “I’m not in the mood!”

You turn back to Malleus, who silently follows a few steps behind Sebek and you ahead of him. Malleus has to bite his tongue as you make a choking gesture, most likely directed towards Sebek, with one of your hands. He puts his hand up in defense, not wanting to get involved in your ongoing argument with his retainer. Whenever you and Sebek are together, willingly or otherwise, the two of you often butt heads. Your arguments are never too serious. Malleus knows that if he gives you two some space, you’ll both work out whatever it is you’re arguing about and go back to respectfully tolerating each other as per usual.

He wants to ask you about this supposed lecture Sebek gave you about how you should dress. It sounds equally intriguing as it does ridiculous. Unlike Sebek, he thinks you’re dressed rather well tonight.

The scent of roses in your hair is proof enough that you’ve taken some of Sebek’s words to heart, even if he says otherwise.

The food is delicious despite its unusual colors. The cake, although baked by Lilia, was fluffy and not overly sweet like you expected it to be. Your biggest fear of the night was walking into a dorm full of faes who are just as headache-inducing and strict as Sebek is, but thankfully there’s only one of him in the entire dorm! Some students were still standoffish and threw you a few too many nasty looks than you would normally tolerate. Thankfully, there were some students you remember helping out of their dubious contract with Azul during exams week and welcomed you with open arms. They followed you around like a bunch of ducklings, eagerly insisting you try some dishes they specifically made for tonight’s festivities. Whether they genuinely admired you or simply wanted to make even with you for your help, they are a pleasant distraction from your interactions with Malleus earlier.

Love is a strange thing. Unlike a deer, you can’t predict its next movements or manipulate it to a point of disadvantage. Whether you love someone poorly or properly, love isn’t the same across the board. The love you have for your ghostly dorm mates back in ramshackle is comparable to the love you have for your family, precious and irreplaceable. You can share the same sentiments for your flourishing entourage of forest animals you take care of. You even have a bit of love for Grim, even if he wears your patience thin every other day with his dim-witted cockiness.

You’ve been in a few relationships before, but they went nowhere meaningful. They were relationships built upon a foundation of opportunity and convenience, not of mutual affection and a desire for lifelong companionship. You’re also a creature of habit, so the idea of breaking your hard-fought routines puts you on edge, even if it’s for someone you care about. There’s also the fact that you’ve sworn to yourself to not get too involved with the people in this strange world. You don’t want anyone, or even yourself, to feel saddened or at a loss when it comes time for you to depart. You don’t want to inconvenience anyone if you can avoid it. When you return home, you just want to brush this entire experience off as a long and complex dream.

But how can you brush someone like Malleus off as a figment of your imagination? How can you simply forget all those nights you spent talking with him, laughing with him, genuinely connecting and bonding with another person outside your immediate family for the first time in a long while? How can you continue to tell yourself that you won’t get too involved or become attached to anyone in this twisted world after you’ve gone and fallen in love with one of its inhabitants?

You love Malleus, truly, wholeheartedly, and for far longer than you initially thought. You love him, but not to a blind point where you cannot realize that loving him isn’t as simple as acting upon your innermost desire. Even if the feelings you have for one another are mutual, what then? What will a relationship with a fae, a royal fae, entail? Few think highly of humans. Sebek is a living example that there are even faes who actively dislike and look down upon humans. Malleus is at the very top of the social hierarchy, while you are on the very bottom; a magicless human from a completely different world. That’s another problem! What happens once the way back to your home is finally unearthed?

You love Malleus, but no matter how you look at it, a relationship with him sounds nothing more than an outlandish fairytale. Your friendship with him is still a rather delicate issue. You aren’t particular about what others think of your involvement with him, but he can’t exercise the same amount of dismissal of public opinion as you do. He has to worry about what others think of him, because eventually he’s going to be king, and a king can’t flourish if his people think ill of him.

It makes you wonder why he fell in love with you, the most perilous person he could have ever met and involved in his delicate lifestyle.

“Having fun over here?” A playful voice interrupts your deep thinking. Lilia has one of his arms thrown over your shoulder, a gloved hand firmly squeezing you for comfort and bringing you closer to his side.

Despite his petite stature and his boyish looks, you knew from the moment you locked eyes with him on the first day of the school year that he was much older and wiser than he let on. In fact, he’s old enough that he’s been mentioned in a few footnotes in a history book or two. You even cited him as a source for a thesis essay just for a few laughs. He even has a copy in his room. It wouldn’t surprise you if he has it framed and hung on his wall. He’s a very sentimental man.

“Do you need a moment to breathe?” he asks, concern discernible in his voice.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you plead.

“Not at all,” he nods assuringly before excusing him and yourself from the small group of boys you’ve been entertaining for the past hour. He leads you out to a quiet balcony and you bask in the cool night air once the doors behind you are closed. Once outside, you take in a much-needed deep breath and lean yourself against the balustrade railing. He quickly excuses himself again and returns with two flutes filled with a bubbly drink.

“What is this?” you ask, swirling the contents around with caution.

“It’s champagne,” he answers.

You give a quick sniff. It certainly smells like it. “Isn’t everyone here too young to drink?”

“Yes.” He clinks his glass against yours before throwing you a cheeky wink. “But we aren’t.”

That’s good enough of an explanation to have you down the much-needed alcohol in one shot. Lilia takes careful sips instead, but once he finishes his drink, he heads back and brings the entire bottle of bubbly wine for you to finish with him. It’s been a while since the two of you drank together. Lilia has an expensive palette, so you’ve quickly learned to cherish each selection he brings for these monthly get-togethers.

You gesture to the dark bottle. “How old is this?”

“Half a decade. Nothing too fancy,” he tells you while pouring himself another glass. “It’s certainly better than whatever it is you brought last time we got together.”

“Unlike you, I like a little kick in my drinks,” you explain.

“Well, I’m not exactly fond of the sensation of my throat burning up with searing pain,” As if you emphasize his point, he massages around his small Adam’s apple. “No wonder you’re so rough around the edges.”

“That’s a low blow and you know it Vanrouge,” you pour the last bit of champagne in your glass before setting the bottle down by your feet.

“How low?”

”Right in my gut.”

“Then I suppose I’ll need to make it up to you over another bottle,” he subtlety suggests. “Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Nothing too strong. I’d rather not get hammered in front of a bunch of teenagers.”

He offers a bottle of red wine he’s been meaning to pop open for a while and you accept without a fuss. He takes the empty bottle of wine and tells you to hang tight while he gets the next one. You’re left alone for a few minutes before someone enters the area and settles right next to you. It’s Malleus, who looks just as out of sorts as you certainly look and feel.

“Needed a moment to breathe?” you ask.

“Yes, but I also noticed you were missing and came to find you,” he admits. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile reassuringly at him. “Just out of my element a bit.”

“I’m sorry,” he looks so downtrodden that it makes your heart sink. “I had every intention of being close by you for most of the evening, but I’ve been busy speaking with the others that I-“

“Hey, relax!” you stop him before he can devolve any further. “Today’s your day, not mine. Besides,” you lift your empty glass for him to see. “Lilia is keeping me company.”

“Why is it that whenever I see you two together, there’s alcohol involved?”

“In my defense, he’s the one who offered,” you explain, but he doesn’t seem that convinced or assured. “It’s been a while since I’ve had champagne! And it’s a special occasion!”

“I’m not opposed to you drinking, but after what happened last time, I can’t exactly trust you two to pace yourselves or get your hands on something far too potent than either of you can handle.”

He’s talking about the last time you and Lilia drank. You’re not sure what it is the old man brought, but whatever it was, neither of you could stop drinking it even after you two were well past your limits. You both blacked out early in the evening and woke up with one of the worst hangovers in your life. Malleus knew well beforehand that you and his caretaker drank together. He’s even joined a few of your drinking sessions, despite not being fond of alcohol himself. But he certainly did not expect to deal with not only one, but two easily agitated and out of touch individuals the next day.

You still don’t know what was in that bottle.

“Malleus!” A newly arrived Lilia perks up when he sees the man of the hour next to you. “Have you come to drink with us?”

“I’m afraid not,” he answers, immediately followed by the two of you whining in disappointment. “Seriously, what is it with you two and alcohol?”

“You make it sound like we’re alcoholics. Which we aren’t!” you protest, eagerly watching as Lilia opens the bottle and pours you both the first glass of many more to come. “We only get together like this once a month.”

“We used to share a few glasses once a week at some point,” Lilia says as he hands your drink. “But that’s a bit too frequent for these old bones.”

“Says the man that downed half a dozen bottles of beer back in September,” you purposely bring up.

“I didn’t know it was alcohol!” Lilia shrills. “If I did, I would have paced myself better.”

You look over to Malleus and shake your head in disapproval. Your action makes him chuckle, and the urge to fidget with the stem of your glass comes down on you. He really does a great laugh. You’re not sure if it’s your genuine feelings or the alcohol that’s making your heartbeat faster after hearing it. For the sake of your sanity, you’re just going to blame the wine for making you feel more infatuated than usual.

As you and Lilia steadily empty another bottle together, the older fae feels compelled to tell you a story or two about Malleus when he was younger. Despite the latter’s protests, you insist and listen intently about the many times Malleus singed Lilia’s hair as a baby with his fire hiccups or the few instances he’s gotten lost on his quest to sightsee every single gargoyle around the castle. It’s never a proper birthday party without a relative sharing embarrassing baby stories with random guests.

After the second battle goes empty, Malleus suddenly asks you if you would like to walk around the dorm grounds for some much-needed air, Since he’s the birthday boy, you agree right off the bat, only after you get a glass of water in you to help stave off the wine a bit. Lilia gently reminds you both not to stay out for too long, otherwise, Sebek’s worrisome nature might get the better of him and he’ll put together a makeshift search party. If you hadn’t had a few glasses of wine, you wouldn’t have found Lilia’s comment as funny as you did at the moment. You’re a tad tipsy, but not drunk enough that you feel yourself acting or thinking too out of character or lose your sense of balance and trip over your own two feet.

“So, where are we going birthday boy?” you nudge him with your elbow. “Are you going to push me into that thorn bush now?”

“But of course,” he laughs. “I just wish for further respite, that’s all.”

Just as you’re about to mention that people usually like to step away from a crowd by themselves, you feel his smooth fingers interlock with your hand once again. He takes you around the back of the dorm where the expansive and well-attended hedge garden is located. The dark-colored bushes are blanketed in blankets of snow, and more green fires are flickering atop the lantern poles lined along the stone pathways. It’s been a while since the two of you went on a nightly stroll like this. They started out as either you or Malleus running into each other by pure chance and just going along with the lucky encounters. Soon your run-ins became much more intentional and a regular part of your schedules.

He’s the first to break the silence. “May I ask you a strange question?”

“Of course you can,” you nod your head, admiring the wooden gazebo the two of you have now settled underneath for a moment. “Isn’t that why we go on these walks, to ask each other a bunch of odd questions?”

It goes without saying that, due to your racial differences, there were a lot of questions burning in each of your minds about your differing ways of life and upbringings. Most of your questions were innocent and came from a place of wanting to learn and take into consideration his boundaries as a fae. As you grew more comfortable with each other, thus more open and honest, the more comfortable you felt to ask him more personable questions. However, you usually have to answer your own question first before he gives his response in return. You find that this is usually the case when conversing with a Fae. They won’t give until you give back something of equal value.

“In my defense, your blunt answers are refreshing,” he admits, almost gratefully. “No one other than Lilia speaks to me with such genuine honesty. Yet even then, he tends to shroud his words in some layer of vagueness.”

“My aunts were like that when I first moved in with them. Something about ‘learning things on your own,” you recollect. “But I was really quiet and withdrawn when I first moved in with them. They had to lead me by the hand and pummel me with lots of encouragement just to get me to do basic things.”

“You and the concept of quietness don’t mix well together,” Malleus laughs. “In fact, much of how you describe yourself as a child doesn’t seem to match up to how you behave now.”

His comment, while true and most likely just a casual observation, is treading into somewhat dangerous territory for you. “You really pay attention to everything I say, don’t you?” you comment in an attempt to divert the conversation elsewhere.

“I do,” he admits with an unashamed expression “But seeing as you now know of all of my embarrassing mishaps as a child, I think it’s only fair that I get to hear a story or two about yours.”

He leans closer to you, something you normally do to him whenever he gets all quiet and reluctant to say what’s on his mind. You don’t exactly mind telling Malleus about your early childhood, but it’s not as grandiose or as pleasant as he may think it is. What’s a friendship without revealing a few stories about your crappy childhood to each other? What happened to you is unfortunate, and you’re not ashamed to talk about it, not anymore at least. Considering the state of your friendship with him and the ongoing issue about whether you’re going to pursue something more with him or not, you’re not too sure if sharing stories of your past should be preserved for later or if doing so now is alright.

“Can I ask you something first?” you hesitantly ask.

“Anything.”

You turn your body towards him more, easily noticing the way he sits up a little more straight. The faint chirps of crickets and windswept leaves fill the silent void you’ve set in place. He remains quiet, tightening his grip around your hand, still interlocked with his, brushing the back of it with the thumb of his other. The gesture is small, but it’s obviously his way of letting you know that he’s patiently waiting and encouraging you to take all the time you need to sort your thoughts out. He’s looking at you with that concerned expression of his. The one he makes when he feels as though he’s made some sort of mistake or said something that was ill-spoken against you.

He tends to critical of himself, only because there is a lot of expectation set upon his shoulders for someone of his station. It is during moments like this that you understand what Lilia meant when he says Malleus still has much to learn and experience before he can truly take on the mantle of a king. He may be many decades older than you, but his maturity is probably not too far from your own; well put together than most, but still in need of opportunities to grow and learn some more.

That’s the purpose of these walks, to learn and grow from each other. All it takes is a question. But your question, the one that has been swirling in your mind for days, isn’t as innocent as wondering if his horns have nerve endings or not.

Your teeth are on the verge of biting your tongue hard enough to draw blood when finally, you will yourself to ask the burning question on your mind.

“What do you plan to get out of a relationship with me?”

He’s visibly taken aback by your question. If you squint really hard, your question is almost an affirmation that his feelings towards you are mutual, but it is only a minuscule part of a much greater whole. There can not, will not, be any do-overs for either of you. Before you pass a point where there is no return, you need to make sure neither of you is setting yourself up for disaster later down the line. You love Malleus, but you will not tell him what your genuine feelings are just to make him feel better. If word gets out about your relationship and it’s ill-received by his family or, heaven forbid, his own people, you’d never forgive yourself. Becoming King of the Valley of Thorns is his only desire in life. You couldn’t possibly understand why he would want to put himself into such a demanding position. You still don’t understand, but he remains firm that becoming king is what he truly desires in the entire world.

You’d rather die with these unpursued feelings of yours than to allow yourself to be the reason he loses his unwavering purpose in life.

“A relationship, with you,” he tests the words, the very concept, out loud. As if he’s trying to gauge the reaction of the world itself. “It certainly wouldn’t be a dull one.”

That look he gives you, the one that is so painstakingly painted in so much love and affection that can give you several tooth-rotting cavities, directed to none other than you, makes your heart do all sorts of acrobatic twirls and lunges. Your hands seek out the nearest object to fidget with, a piece of hair that fell out of place from your hairstyle. There’s a moment of panic that overcomes him and he goes to pull his hand out of your firm grip, but you tighten it just before his hand can slip away. You like holding his hand, you realize.

“Something’s troubling you,” he remarks. “Whatever it is, tell me.”

“This isn’t the best time to bring it up,” you argue. It really isn’t. Not when there’s alcohol in your body that makes you incredibly pessimistic and impulsive. And it’s his birthday. You really don’t want to make this day suddenly about you. You’re slowly regretting having that second bottle.

“Perhaps not, but it’s going to be brought up eventually, I imagine.” He gently cups the side of your face and forces you to look up at him, right into those green eyes that have always mesmerized you. “Speak to me,” he insists once more.

“I…” you start, but the words die in your mouth before you can speak them. There’s an instance where you nearly pull away from him and are ready to just book it back to your dorm and forget this ever happened, but he keeps you in place almost desperately. He wants you to speak your mind. He wants to know what’s eating up inside you. He wants you, all of you.

But like his desire to become king, you can’t understand why it’s you sitting across from him.

The edges of your vision wobble, and you know that if you’re pushed over the edge enough, you’re going to start sobbing. You hate crying, especially when you feel you don’t deserve to. Who are you to get all emotional when you’re the one who’s overcomplicating things? You’re the one who kick-started this conversation, so why are you the one getting all emotional? Shouldn’t Malleus be the one on the verge of breaking down? He’s the one with the most to lose. The most suffering you’ll likely be subjected to is a bunch of scrutinization and disapproval.

“You know this isn’t going to be easy, right?”

He reaches up with a folded handkerchief in hand, dabbing the corners of your tear-stricken eyes. “I know.”

“I can take a judgemental comment or two. I just don’t want you to be on that receiving end of it because of me.”

“People will always find something to pin blame on or direct their judgment towards, even if the detail is as insignificant as my decision to be with a human.” he calmly explains. It almost pisses you off that he’s remaining calm through all this while you’re going through many ranges of emotions. Malleus is a prince, and it's fragile moments like these that he’s been carefully taught how to navigate and work through. Now you’re just mad at yourself for forgetting something so obvious and vital. Damn that second bottle of wine!

“I’m the worst human you could have picked,” you proclaimed with utmost certainty. “I’m not even from the same world as you. What the hell can I possibly offer you?”

“Well,” He leans even closer to you, closer than he’s ever purposely been and you’re almost compelled to move away from him due to your nervousness. There was a brief moment where you thought that he might kiss you, that’s how little space there is between you and him. While a kiss from him sounds both amazing and absolutely terrifying, you let out an audible sigh of relief when he stops at pressing his forehead against yours. “What are you willing to give me?”

Oh, he’s slick and he knows it. The answer is so obvious now. You’ve made it obvious well before your first glass of champagne. You’re practically wearing your heart on your sleeves, but it’s not enough for him. He wants you to say it out loud so that what he assumes is mutual is in fact irrefutable. He won’t settle for anything less, you’re sure of it.

“All I can give you is my love,” you offer, in a hushed, almost embarrassed manner. “If you’ll have it. If it’s what you want.”

“It is,” he answers immediately, without a shred of doubt or hesitancy. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.”

If this is truly all he wants from you, then he can have it. He can have every bit of it.

“Are you sure you can make it back to Ramshackle without issue?”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him for likely the 20th time. “I’m not that buzzed, and you look just as tired as I am.”

You’re right. Malleus is well beyond himself now. His social batteries are thoroughly drained. He needs a nice, long rest to fully process this long evening.

As he thinks about his conversation with you under the gazebo, he reaches out and tenderly caresses the side of your face. Your hands immediately reach up to tug and twist one of your shirt buttons. He once thought your habit to fidget with the nearest object meant you were uncomfortable. A dainty smile etches into his face now that he knows that this habit of yours was a sign that you were flustered by his actions.

He thinks it’s an adorable habit and very befitting of your person.

“What?” you look up at him with a nervous gaze. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Your face is all clean.”

Despite his statement, you wipe at your puffy eyes to ensure there are no visible tears left. Would you think him strange if he told you he finds you endearing like this, your eyes somewhat droopy and your voice hushed despite the lack of need to control your volume? You probably would, but your presumed disdain wouldn’t stop him even if you told him off. He can’t help it. He’s drunk as well, though not because of any wine.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you say into his open palm.

“Not particularly.”

“Good,” you smile against his skin. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Do you now?” He looks at you, intrigued by the sudden presentation of a surprise for him. “Is it safe to assume this surprise is my present?”

“Yup, it’s your birthday present,” you admit. “I found something on the island that you’ll absolutely love. The walk is long, but trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, beaming as he thinks about where exactly you’re going to take him. You have a knack for finding interesting spots on the island. Whatever this hidden wonder is, you seem quite confident that it’ll trump all the others.

“Meet me early in the morning, and dress warmly. It’s going to snow a bit.” you disclose before regrettably pulling away from him. “Goodnight, and happy birthday!” you call out to him one last time.

“Thank you! Please be careful on your way back!” he pleads, but you’ve already passed through the mirror back to the college’s main campus. Hopefully, you heard him. If not, he can always send you a letter through his charmed envelope or message you over the phone.

When he returns to his room to dress down and ready himself for bed, he finds that his desk is occupied by a hefty pile of presents that he had yet to open. While they vary in size, most are wrapped in identical gift wrapping and bows. Presents on the larger scale are fully exposed and have a card set over top of it or tucked in between the gift wherever possible.

He opens some gifts before calling it a night, specifically the smaller-sized ones. Most of them are centered on his skill for stringed instruments; new violin strings, fresh rosin for his bow, and even some sheet music for songs he’s never played before. If it weren’t so late, he’d practice a few stanzas. It’s probably best if he saves his awkward first time playing for another day.

Perhaps he can play for you someday? However, the mere thought of more physical activity causes a surge of tiredness throughout his body and he lets out a deep, bellowing yawn. Playing as host for his own party required much more listening than conversing than he had initially expected. He was also juggling his attention from his guests to you, who was always across the room from where he found himself. There’s a great divide in opinions regarding your friendship with him that, unfortunately, skews more negatively rather than positively. He cannot speak for all faes, but he did not want you to develop any poor opinions or experiences with his people, especially his dorm mates. Seeing the small group of first years keeping you company and even show a bit of reverence towards you was assuring.

You deserve as much praise and admiration as he receives, for you are someone who has well earned his respect and his love.

You weren’t exaggerating when you told him to dress warmly. Malleus doesn’t hate the cold, but he can’t say he likes the way it bites and numbs his minimally exposed skin. Thankfully, the coat you made for him helps stave off the cold rather well. Now if only his gloves could do the same for his needle-pricking fingers.

“Your master sure has the gall to leave me waiting outside in this weather.” He looks down at Gunter, the pack leader of your small bunch of wolves. He doesn’t seem bothered by the snow at all, what with his thick winter coat protecting him from the cold air and the scarf he wears around his neck. Not only did you think to make and put on a scarf for the rugged canine, you even secured it by tying the ends into a neat bow. “I wonder where exactly they’re taking me. Perhaps you have a clue?”

Gunter turns away from Malleus, as if to tell him he’s sworn to total secrecy on your behalf. Malleus can’t help but reach down and pat him on the top of his head. Loyal without a fault. He can see why you keep the wild dog around.

“Are you trying to interrogate my wolf?” He jumps a bit at your unannounced and undetected arrival. He didn’t even hear the crunching of snow and rocks from your heavy boots as you snuck up behind him. If he were wild game, he’d likely have a bullet lodged in his heart by now. “Whatever you promise him, it won’t work. He’s pretty tight-lipped.”

“I can see that,” he quips back. “Are the others staying behind?”

“They can’t stand the cold. Not like this one can,” you explain to him while proudly scratching behind the wolf’s fluffy ears. “The woods are still dangerous, even during the winter. He’ll scout ahead and let us know if we need to change directions and chase off any predators. I also promised I’d share some of our food if he came along, so there’s that.”

“You prepared food for us?”

“Of course I did!” you jostle your pack basket to reiterate your statement. “Did you really think I wouldn’t feed you?”

“You never fail to stuff me with food, so no, I didn’t think you wouldn’t,” he laughs. “Besides, without me, you’d end up with more leftovers than you’d know what to do with.”

“I lived with 11 people back home,” you grunt as you push open the metal gates that enclose the front of the Ramshackle dorm. “So what if I make too much food? You’re really pushing it for someone who gobbles it up all the same.”

“I rather enjoy the way you flavor your meals,” he remarks. “And you know that I’m very particular about my food.”

“Is that why you want me around?” you inquire with a cheeky grin. “So I can satisfy that silver-spooned appetite of yours?”

“What about you?” he questions back with just as much playfulness. “Without me, you’d have no gardening partner.”

“Damn,” you kick a twig and it tumbles down a small incline and into the half-frozen stream at the bottom. “and I thought I was being stealthy about it too.”

Malleus erupts into a loud fit of laughter, with you joining him as he sputters out how strange your shared senses of humor are. This right here. This is why he loves you. You just make him so damn happy! Your companionship and the bond you and him have built with each other is all he’s ever wanted, all he’s ever dreamed of since he was a young boy. There was a point in his life where he had nearly resigned himself to a life of loneliness. Now, look at him, out on a stroll with one of his closest friends. Although now you are not only his friend, you are now his partner as well.

His partner. His.

He involuntarily reaches over and squeezes your hand in his small bout of prideful possession. His enamored smile must have caught your attention as you reach out and poke the side of his face with your free hand.

“And just what are you thinking about, your highness ?"

He has to hold back the snort that he nearly lets out. How kind of you to layout the perfect opportunity to tease you. “Why, I’m thinking about you, of course,” he says, throwing a wink in for added measure.

You let out a huff of air that turns misty as your warm breath mixes and condenses in the cool air. “You should think of something else,” you retort, pulling the hood of your dark cloak closer to your face to cover the side that Malleus can see without strain.

“You seem a bit flustered,” Malleus continues to tease you.

“And you sure are talkative this morning,” you harshly say, but he knows it’s only because he’s “pushing your buttons" as you would say. You do it plenty of times towards him and your friends. This is nothing but well-deserved revenge for all those times you push him and get him all flustered. He’ll need to watch his back in the future. You won’t let him get away with this, not without avenging yourself first.

Oh, if only humans and Faes could get along as well as you two have. Malleus was born right at the end of the last war between his people and many defunct human nobility houses. Relations with the remaining human nobility are better with passaging time, but there is much room for improvement before there can ever truly be a declared peace between both species. A relationship between a human and fae is hardly anything new, the interaction between the two races as old as time itself. As overly optimistic and opportunistic as it surely sounds, he hopes that his relationship with you, no matter how it works out in the end, can be a proper example to his people and onlookers of any other kind than the harmony they once had with humans is still obtainable.

“What you said the other day,” he suddenly mentions. “I feel it would be in poor taste if I didn’t fully address the concerns you clearly have about us regarding my status as a member of the nobility.”

At the mention of your conversation a couple of days ago, your hand grips around tight around him for a moment. “I don’t like facing too many uncertainties,” you admit. “It probably sounds weird, but I do better in situations I have some control over. Being with you. Well, for lack of better words, it scares the living daylight out of me the more I think about it. I don’t even think you know what’s in store for both of us the further we get into this.”

“I have some idea, but to say that I fully understand what’s at stake would be untruthful,” he admits as well. When the court eventually finds out about who he has taken as his partner, he will receive some amount of scrutiny and his decision will be heavily questioned. "However, that would happened no matter who I chose to be with, so long as the person was not someone the court saw as diplomatically advantageous."

“Have you even told anyone about us yet?”

“No. Not even Lilia knows, but I'm sure he has an inkling by now,” he expresses. “As childish as this may sound, but I’d like to keep our relationship a secret as long as possible.”

“And when people start to connect the dots, what then?”

“The only way they’ll confirm their suspicions is to confront either one of us,” he answers matter-of-factly. “But whatever difficulties may be lined up for me in the future. So long as you’re by my side to support me, I'll endure whatever it is that is put forth in front of me."

“You’re right, you sound really childish,” you sigh. “But you also sound so damn sure yourself,” you grumble under your breath, but his pointed ears pick up on your comment despite your hushed volume. “I can’t say I feel the same way just yet. But I hope that, whatever comes up, we can do what we always do and just… talk it out.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he smiles. “After all, isn’t that the purpose for these walks of ours? So we may work through these difficult conversations with each other?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, a clear lopsided smile on your lips despite you not facing directly towards him. “I guess they are.”

Just as Malleus is about to say something else, you suddenly stop when a distant howl sounds. “We’re close,” you tell him.

“Now, where exactly are you taking me?” he finally asks you.

“Sorry,” you shake your head. “I can’t tell you just yet.”

“Not even after I asked so politely?”

“Nope!” you beam.

Still curious about this supposed wonder you’re escorting to, he continues to pester you with questions, trying to pull some sort of hint out of you. You’re not usually as tight-lipped as you are now. Your persistent secrecy only excites him the further you two travel.

Apparently, what you constitute as nearby is much further than what he would consider close. While still within the woods, he can faintly hear ocean waves crashing and a few seabirds cawing about. You’re taking him towards the southern part of the isle, clear by his now unbutton coat because of the warmer temperatures and the tuffs of green grass poking out through the half-melted snow the further you take him. The place finally appears before him, with tall brick walls and a metal gate, both of which are covered in thick, frosted ivy leaves. He can make out of a few shapes past the gate, but not enough to confidently guess what they are exactly.

“Will you tell me now?” Malleus asks once more while you busy yourself by giving Gunter some well-deserved ear scratches.

“What do you think?” you look down and ask Gunter. He makes a deep grunting sound in response to your question. “I guess you’re right,” you nod in understanding before looking up towards Malleus and saying, “The locals call it a gargoyle graveyard.”

“Gargoyles?” he says with clear excitement, like a young boy being told that a pile of candies and toys awaits him in the other room. "You took me out to see gargoyles?"

“Yes, but also no,” you say. “They would have been if they weren’t sculpted incorrectly.”

“So it’s a place where inoperable gargoyles are put?” he asks, still intruiged.

“The family who owns this piece of land mentioned that they also put gargoyles in here that were made purely for art’s sake,” you added. “But can it really be called a gargoyle if they weren’t made to act as a gutter in the first place?”

Malleus’s heart always skips and beats faster whenever he’s around you. That last comment you made nearly stopped his heart altogether. He once had a conversation with Silver regarding the stark difference between gargoyles and statues. The boy couldn’t fully grasp the difference, but it seems you can right out of the blue. By the Great Seven, is your ability to tell the difference between a purposeful gargoyle and a mere decorative grotesque really what’s making him go red in the face?

Yes. Yes, it is.

You easily notice this as well, as you comment how his complexion is almost the shade of a ripe tomato, although you’ve been busying yourself with undoing the many locks and chains secured around the front gate and didn’t even look over to him since. “I can see the tips of your ears getting all pink in my peripheral,” you explain with a hint of laughter arising in your voice. You’re clearly amused by all this. “Who knew my basic understanding of gargoyles is enough to set a fire in your loins!”

“Must you tease me at every opportunity?” he groans. "And so crudely too."

“What? Are you having second thoughts about me?” you jokingly ask.

“Somewhat,” he answers back, though it’s only a half-serious answer.

You toss aside the last chainlink and rusted lock keeping the front gate secured before saying, “I won’t be mad if you bail out now. It’ll save Sebek the future anguish when he finds out.”

“Sebek is already at odds with our friendship as it is,” Malleus clarifies. “Besides, I think the boy is rather endearing when he’s upset.”

“Endearing,” you mockingly repeat. “More like a pain in my ass.”

“Give him some time. He’ll grow on you,” Malleus encourages.

“For your sake, he better,” you glare at him for a moment. “Alright, that’s enough relationship talk for the day. These gargoyles won’t ogle themselves!”

No, they won’t, and it’s music to his ears that you want to appreciate them together.

Together, with him.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst writing #twst malleus #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #fanfic: courtship #x reader #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns

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roman-writing · 3 years

Text

bring home a haunting (1/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 11,511

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” - CS Lewis, Till We Have Faces

—

I: 1987

—

The sound of water sloshing through the pipes was a constant drone in the air. Dani stared at herself in the mirror. Her hand rested on the tap, holding it open. Steam crept in along the edges of the mirror as hot water continued to stream into the white porcelain bathroom sink, pale tendrils framing her face like smudged fingerprints against the glass. She was still dressed in pajamas, her hair a rumpled mess. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her face felt puffy and her stomach heavy, but above all else she just appeared tired.

There was movement behind her. The bathroom door opened and her head jerked up in surprise as the door frame squared around Eddie's tall silhouette. In the misted mirror, his glasses seemed to reflect all light, obscuring half his face in a gleam like the sun glancing across the surface of a windscreen.

His reflection smiled. "You still getting ready?" he asked. "We need to go in ten, if I'm giving you a ride to work."

Abruptly, Dani twisted the tap, cutting off the flow of water. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. No. I'll — I'll drive myself."

"You sure? I don't know if your poor little car will make it."

"No. It'll be fine," she assured him, trying to sound far more confident than she felt. Never mind that the local mechanic had given her a list of incomprehensible ills that plagued her car the last time she had taken it into the shop after it had broken down again. "Thanks, though."

"All right," he said, but still he did not turn to leave. "You know, I was thinking. We should probably sell it."

"Hmm?"

Dani had opened the mirror door to reveal a jumble of bottles and toothpaste and toothbrushes, only some of which were hers. She scouted around for what she was looking for. Even after a few weeks, everything still felt so displaced. She struggled to find the smallest item these days, be it her favorite sauce pan or a bottle of — oh, there it was.

"Your car," Eddie was saying behind her. "Don't you think we should sell it? We don't really need two. Not now that we're living together."

Dani froze with her hands cupped in the water of the sink. She could see her own reflection weaving and waving from the disturbance until her face looked disjointed. Like some sort of Picasso. An eye here. A jaw there. Scattered into separate chambers.

Without answering, she leaned down and splashed her face, rubbing at her cheeks until a foam lathered, eyes squeezed shut.

"Well?" Eddie asked.

She bought herself a moment by rinsing the suds from her face and reaching blindly for a towel that she had perched on a nearby rail for just that very purpose. When she spoke, her voice was muffled through the cloth, "I don't know. I just think —" She lowered the towel and wiped at her neck. "Wouldn't it be inconvenient? You having to drive me around everywhere?"

In the mirror, his outline shrugged. "I don't mind. More time spent with you, right?"

She offered him a weak smile, drying her hands and folding the towel neatly back on its rack. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But really. I mean — What if I need to pick up groceries on the way back from the school? Or what if I want to visit your mother? Or —?”

“All right. All right. You win,” he laughed, softly. He came up behind her, hands settling on her waist, gentle but heavy all the same. “Just think about it. Okay?”

The steam at the edges of the mirror had begun to fade, and Eddie’s features came into sharp relief. Looking at their reflection was like looking at the picture in their living room where they were posed for prom. Eddie’s hands clasped at her waist, and Dani still with that deer in the headlights smile. It was almost perfect. It was almost enough. Being a fresh-faced fiancée. Wearing rumpled pink pajamas. Living together. Watching a life unfold before her as though it belonged to someone else.

She shrank away from him in order to turn around. “I should finish getting ready,” she said.

He let her go but leaned down for a kiss. Instead, his glasses bumped the side of her face. Laughing, she pushed the glasses up his nose as he retreated with a wince.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Her hand was still lingering on the side of his face — scratch of stubble beneath her fingertips — and Eddie pressed a brief kiss to her palm before striding from the bathroom. Dani stood there, clutching her hand back to her chest, listening to his retreating footsteps down the hall. Something curdled in her stomach, though she hadn’t eaten anything yet this morning. She passed it off as hunger instead of guilt.

Eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching into a fist at her sternum, Dani inhaled a deep steadying breath. Then, opening her eyes once more, she turned back towards the mirror and reached for a hairbrush.

—

The coffee in the teacher’s lounge was always dark as sin and tasted of battery acid. Dani pulled on the tap, filling up her styrofoam cup until her hand burned and she had to hold it gingerly from the top with her fingertips. Enough creamer followed so that the coffee resembled milk more than the original brew. She tested it with a sip, crinkled her nose, and added sugar until it was barely palatable. It would still strip paint in a pinch, but it would also keep her going throughout the day.

With a resigned sigh, she carried the coffee over to the round table in the back corner of the lounge, where her piles of notes and textbooks waited. The binders sported multi-colored tongues, every section marked with a tab and her broad loopy handwriting, and there was a satchel of pens and markers in every hue under the sky. Taking a sip of her cup of paint thinner, Dani pulled out a plain black pen. She trailed her thumb down the tabs until she reached the desired section, and flipped open to the correct page. There, she began to record her meticulous notes. She would pause every so often to flip through a textbook and double-check some figure or another that she had convinced herself she had forgotten.

The lounge was mostly empty but for her. It was still an early hour, even for her colleagues. Here, she felt like she could actually work. Back home she would inevitably feel like she had gotten in the way. Not of Eddie. Not usually. Though sometimes he would wander over to the table while she was trying to arrange a lesson plan and distract her with talk of banalities that always made her hand slip, that always made her lose her place on the page. Other times he would complain about how her work sprawled and took over the whole dining room.

Mostly it was the house itself. Still so fresh and new and clean, walls pressing in like a stomach lining. Spreading all her work notes out felt like she was intruding upon the space of the napkins and cutlery. As though all of the items people had bought them for their engagement were more at home there than she was. A house of cardboard boxes. Of clothes. Of china. Stuff. Things. Their things.

Dani’s writing had slowed. She shook her head briskly and straightened in her seat. Another sip of fortifying turpentine, and she was scribbling away again.

“Enjoy the summer holiday?”

Dani glanced up at the sound of that familiar voice. Hannah Grose, seamlessly elegant in a wine-dark skirt suit, stood with her hand on the back of one of the chairs around the little table.

A smile broke across Dani’s face, and she said, “Yeah! And you?” She gestured towards the chair with her pen, adding, “Please.”

“Not much to report on the western front.” Hannah sat, delicately leaning her elbow upon the table so as not to disturb the sprawl of Dani’s notes. “But I hear that’s not the case in your camp. Congratulations are in order.”

Dani could feel her cheeks strain with the effort of keeping her smile in place. “Thanks!”

“Well?” Hannah asked, her eyes agleam with warm curiosity. “Go on then. How did he propose?”

“Which time?” Dani joked half-heartedly. When Hannah gave a little huff of laughter, Dani said, “No, seriously. He’s been asking me to marry him since we were kids.”

“Well, congratulations,” Hannah said. “Do you have a date planned? Or is that still in the works?”

Dani fiddled with the pen between her fingers, repeatedly removing the cap and sticking it back on with a nervous jab. The plastic clacked dully against the unfamiliar band of gold around her finger. “Oh, no. Not yet. We — uh — we’re going to wait a bit. Eddie just started his new job, and I’ve — well. You’re the one who asked me to teach sixth grade this year. And I’m excited, but also I feel so unprepared for a whole classroom of twelve year olds.”

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” Hannah said, and though her tone was soothing her small smile was teasing. “They can smell fear.”

Dani’s laugh was slightly too breathy and too short to be heartfelt. “Oh, I know. It’s just —” She made a flighty gesture with one hand, “— getting a new batch in. It’s always a little nerve wracking. There are so many names to memorize in the first week. And sorting out the dynamics of them all, how they interact, and — well, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Not really, anyway,” Hannah said. “I came up the ranks through an administrative route. Never had any classroom time to speak of.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Dani said.

Hannah gave Dani’s notes a nudge with her elbow. “What was it you were just telling me about the trials and tribulations of homeroom?”

This time when Dani laughed, it was far more relaxed. “The kids are the best part. Really. That’s why you do it.”

Hannah gave her a knowing look. “Yes. And that’s why I hired you.”

“Have I thanked you for that, yet?”

“Only once a year for three years.”

“My next gift basket is in the mail tomorrow, then,” Dani joked.

“Hang the basket and bring me a slice from the cafe instead.”

“With coffee?” Dani asked, grinning when Hannah wrinkled her nose at the idea. “You got it, boss.”

“Tea,” said Hannah primly, “is perfectly serviceable. Thank you. It’s eight thirty, by the way.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she checked her watch to find that Hannah was, in fact, correct. “Oh, shoot!” Hastily, she scraped together the loose papers, shuffling them back into their notebook. Tucking it beneath one arm, she snatched up her styrofoam cup and made a dash for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Grose.”

“Don’t forget to bring back a receipt for the slice!” Hannah called after her. “You must let me pay you back this time!”

“Put it on my next remuneration review!”

—

The kids were all filing into class, and Dani was hesitating at the blackboard. She held the tip of a piece of chalk against the dark grain. Her hand had frozen on the final downward stroke of the 'M' when she thought — should it still be 'Miss'? 'Ms.'? What were the rules?

The sounds of children jabbering away behind her, chairs scraping, things being thrown, urged her into action, and Dani wrote the name she had always written before turning around.

"All right, let's settle down, please." She waited until twenty-five faces were turned towards her in relative silence — as good as she could hope for given the circumstances — before smiling. Then, she set aside the chalk and picked up a clipboard full of names. "Hi, everyone. I'm Miss Clayton. Welcome to homeroom. Let's go through names. Make sure everyone's here."

It was the same, she told herself even as she meticulously took roll. How different could a bunch of twelve year olds be to her usual ten year olds? She even recognized one or two names from when she had taught a previous class. One of her former students waved at her from the back of a row of desks, and Dani smiled in return.

She skimmed right over the roll call and into the first introductions to the year. It happened so fast, that she hardly even registered a familiar looking name on the list. The boy in question merely raised his hand upon his name being called out, and Dani forged on to the next. With so many new faces to memorize, she did not even pause to mull over the presence of a Michael Taylor in her class. There were too many of them. Always too many. She never could keep track. Always remembering faces, but never names. Maybe if there were fewer of them, she thought. Maybe if they were younger.

They never were.

—

Even after two weeks back in the classroom, the bell ringing never failed to make Dani jump slightly. She nearly dropped her chalk from where she was drawing on the blackboard. Already behind her she could hear the scrape of chairs and the excited babble at the arrival of the weekend.

Setting down the chalk, Dani turned around and began wiping her hands against her skirt. She had to lift her voice to be heard. “All right everyone, don’t forget your permission slips for a trip to the community library! If you don’t bring back a signed form, you won’t be able to go, and you’ll have to stay here! And, Michael? Can you stay behind for a minute, please? I want to talk to you.”

Michael’s head whipped around at the sound of his name. A few other students shot him odd glances and his shoulders crept up around his ears. He shoved his books and notes into his bag — a dark blue canvas with silver stars that looked like they’d been painstakingly drawn on — then slouched at his desk until the others had all left.

Sitting behind her own desk, Dani brushed at the chalk handprints on her skirt — she was always a mess by the end of a school week; chalk everywhere — and gestured for Michael to come closer. He hesitated before pushing himself upright and walking forward until he stood in front of her desk. His brow was furrowed but his head was bowed, looking contrite, as though waiting for some sort of reprimand.

Dani gentled her voice. “Michael, I just wanted to -"

"Mikey."

She blinked, faltering. "I'm sorry?"

"My name," he said very firmly for someone who stood with such a stoop. "It’s Mikey. I don’t like Michael."

With a smile, Dani said, "Of course. Mikey. You’re not in trouble. I promise.” With a light tap of her palms against the surface of the desk, she pulled out a piece of paper from atop one of the stacks and slid it towards him across her desk. “This is your homework from Monday. Do you remember this problem here? Number eleven?”

Shrugging at the weight of his backpack, he nodded.

“Well, I kind of messed up,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning forward as though revealing a secret. “And I copied this problem from the wrong section of the book. The back section of the book, I mean. Most of the others didn’t even try to answer it, and those that did got it wrong. Except —” Dani tapped a finger against the edge of the page, “— for you.”

Mikey did not say anything. His gaze remained dropped, as though he were studying his shoes.

“Do you know what this ‘x’ is?” Dani asked, pointing to the math problem in question.

Mikey shook his head. “No. I thought it was like a question mark?”

“Yeah.” Dani smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He glanced up at her, saw her watching him, and then hastily lowered his eyes again, shuffling his feet.

Leaning her weight on her forearms, Dani said, “I know you’re a transfer student this year, and you came from somewhere out of state. Did your other schools teach you algebra by any chance?”

Again, he shook his head.

“Okay.” She ducked her head down in an attempt to look into his eyes. “I told you: you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to know — do you like math? Because it seems to me you’re really good at it.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. His hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Can I go now?”

Dani toyed with the edge of the page of homework. Then with a sigh she leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, you can go. Have a good weekend.”

He murmured some pleasantry in response, but in the next moment he was gone from the room so fast she thought she must have imagined it. For a moment, Dani frowned after him. She pulled his homework towards herself, studying the page. Mikey’s handwriting was cramped and messy, but there was no mistaking the fact that he had written every answer only once. There were no eraser marks to be seen. He even showed the steps he took to reach his answers.

Her thumb traced over his name at the top right hand corner. Then, with a little shake of her head, she set the page back atop the stack of other papers and began to clean up.

Even after the kids had mostly left, there were always a few stragglers left behind. Some trotted through the halls in packs on their way to whatever extracurricular activities their parents had signed them up for. Dani kept the door to her classroom open, and the squeak of their shoes echoed down the corridor along with the sound of their fading voices. Tilting her wrist to check the time, she pulled out the latest round of homework assignments that had been handed back to her earlier that day. The set she hadn’t had a chance to mark yet.

Best to just get it done with now. Her car was clinging to the last vestiges of life and had landed itself back in the workshop earlier that week. She would be here a while until Eddie got off work.

She grabbed a red pen and pulled the first page towards her. The pen flicked officiously as she scanned through the questions, barely pausing until she circled the final grade at the top and set the page aside in favor of the next. And so on. And so forth. It was almost relaxing. As relaxing as a known constant could be. She could always rely upon the dependability of homework that needed grading. Just like she could rely upon the dependability of death and taxes.

She glanced up only rarely from her work whenever a flurry of movement flitted across the corners of her vision. A bird darting from a tree branch here. A janitor sweeping the floors there. Dani paused to push her seat back from the desk and make small talk, asking after the janitor's wife and kids until he shuffled along with a wave, pushing his long-handled broom, which looked more like a breed of shaggy dog than a cleaning implement. She had almost finished grading the stack of papers, when she glanced out the window towards the street. She looked back down at the papers, then did a double take.

That was a student sitting on the curb. She recognized that blue backpack with silver stars. Dani checked the time again. Nearly four in the afternoon now. With a hum and a frown, she returned to grading, but her gaze would wander after each finished page back towards the window.

Finally, she capped the pen and set it down atop the finished stack of papers. She would need to enter those grades into the system later, but that could wait. For now, Dani swept everything into her bag before slinging it over one shoulder. Her keys jangled from their lanyard as she locked up and made her way outside.

Mikey was still crouched on the sidewalk when she approached. Her shoes clacked dully against the pavement, and he turned to look over his shoulder at who was approaching him.

Dani smiled brightly. "Hi!" she said. "You’re still here?"

Mikey nodded, but gave no verbal reply. Some sort of magazine was hanging loosely from his fingers, half open and tucked between his legs as though he had been caught red-handed.

Setting her bag down on the ground, she sat beside him and craned her neck to get a look at the cover he was clearly trying to hide. "Wonder Woman, huh?"

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and he refused to look anywhere near her direction.

"You know," Dani said. "I used to wait up at night to catch all the episodes of the show as they were airing. The Lynda Carter ones? You ever watch it?"

His eyes were wide when he finally turned to look at her. He nodded. "Yeah. I love that show."

"I recorded them all," Dani confided in a whisper, as though the two of them were in on a secret. "Still have them on tape at home, though I haven't watched them in forever."

"My sister gets annoyed when I rewatch stuff too often," Mikey said. He had straightened his legs, and now the comic book was sprawled across his bony knees to reveal a few inked pages.

She nodded towards the thin paper booklet. "I never read the comics, though. Are they any fun?"

It was like opening flood gates. Suddenly, she found herself being regaled about the entire publication history of Wonder Woman, while Mikey gestured wildly with the comic so that the loose pages rustled with every motion of his hands. His face came alight when he spoke. Dani listened with amusement. She perched an elbow on her knees and propped her chin on her hand, nodding along, asking appropriate questions. Once she asked what was obviously a dumb question, for he made a face and explained her error in great detail.

The early autumnal sun was slanting through the trees by the time a boxy silver sedan rolled up to the other side of the street. Dani could see a familiar mop of dark hair and the gleam of glasses through the windows. The car puttered to a halt, engine idling, and Eddie pressed down on the steering wheel so that the horn blared briefly.

Dani waved in his direction and said to Mikey, “That’s my ride. Are you going to be okay out here?” She glanced down the street for any approaching cars. “Someone’s coming to pick you up, right?”

In answer, he held up the issue of Wonder Woman. “It’s okay, Miss Clayton. My sister will be here soon.”

“Okay, then,” said Dani. Slapping her hands on her thighs, she pushed herself to her feet, bag hanging from one shoulder. She walked towards the car with a smile and a wave back at Mikey. “I’ll see you next week!”

He did not answer. He was already nose-deep in his comic book again. Shaking her head with a small chuckle, Dani continued towards where Eddie was waiting for her, tapping at the dashboard. It wasn’t until her hand was on the chromed door handle that she finally registered what Mikey had said.

A sister. He had a sister. At first she’d thought — well, a sister who got annoyed with a brother who hogged the television set would surely be a younger sister. But a sister who drove to pick him up from school was definitely not a younger sister.

“Danielle, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice made her jerk half out of her skin. She hadn’t even realized he had rolled down the window.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Yeah. Can you just - Can you wait a second? I’ll be —I’ll be just a second.”

Dani shoved her bag through the open window into her seat, then whirled around and marched back across the street. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She could feel the bite of her short nails into her palms. Something acidic boiled in her stomach, twisting it into knots, until she stood over Mikey, struggling to find her voice.

“You said you had a sister?” she asked. “An older sister? And — And your last name is Taylor?”

Looking puzzled, Mikey shrugged. “Yeah?”

This was impossible. There was no way. For a long moment, Dani stared at him, his brown hair, his brown eyes, his narrow shoulders, the almost familiar shape of his nose and face.

Dani cleared her throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “And what — uh — what’s her name?”

With a quizzical frown up at her, Mikey turned a page of his comic book to where Wonder Woman was punching stars from one of her foes. “My sister?” he asked, as if it were the most bizarre question in the world. “Jamie. Her name’s Jamie.”

“Right,” Dani breathed, feeling like she’d just received a blow to the space beneath her ribcage. “Right. Of course. Sorry. I’ll just — Bye.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back towards the waiting car. She willed her breathing to even out, even as she felt something coil around her sternum and tighten with every step. Yanking open the door, Dani slipped into the car. She pushed her bag down to her feet and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Everything good?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” Dani lied, her voice sounding oddly high even to her own ears. It was difficult to swallow; her throat felt too tight. A rush of blood flooded through her ears in a deafening crash. She stared fixedly at the reflection of her own clenched hands in the slanted windshield, willing them to relax even as her knuckles went whiter. “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

And Eddie didn’t question it at all. He merely shrugged, put the car into gear, and drove away.

—

It stayed with her afterwards. Like a bruise upon her skin, blue and purple, tender to the touch. That cloying sense of the air too thick. Molasses on a hot summer day, the dark shadow that clung to her heels in sunlight, haunting her every step. She couldn’t breathe with it, couldn’t escape it.

Jamie. Jamie, here. Jamie, home.

Somehow Eddie didn’t notice. It completely passed him by, the way her eyes darted around as they stopped to pick up groceries, her clenched fists held tightly to her sides, consumed with the uneasy notion that she might turn around the corner and Jamie would appear, as if summoned by the gravity of Dani’s pounding heart.

It should’ve been easy — like most things eventually — locking it away. Erasing it. She had managed now for years, days, months. Except now the very thought of Jamie being so near again, so tangible again, made her somehow indelible. As if she’d always been there. Waiting. As if she’d never gone. It felt altogether at once like being peeled and stripped away, down to an exposed nerve.

Dani wished she could say she slept easy that night. Instead, after spending much of the witching hour staring at the ceiling, she finally succumbed to the sound of Eddie’s soft snores, his arm splayed across her waist, only to wake up feeling as if she'd been cracked open and hollowed out. Somehow, in between the moments of stumbling out of bed and driving up to the blue bungalow across town with Eddie in the small rental truck behind her, Dani managed to go through the motions of call and response. Her limbs moving, her mouth speaking all of their own accord, and she could only watch it happening. She pulled on the turn signal. The click of the light like an errant drip of a tap. It was only when she was cutting the engine to stare up at the house that was once hers, that something tightened in her chest, shunting her back to earth.

Carson met them by the front steps where he sat in his studded leather jacket that he wore regardless of the weather, two takeout cups in hand.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, standing and offering one of the cups to Eddie who reached him first. “Thought I was gonna have to drink these myself before they got cold.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, taking the cup. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” he drawled before helping himself inside the house without a backwards glance, taking a long sip from his cup.

Carson stared after him for a moment before turning to Dani with a smirk, and said, “Someone’s in a mood.”

Managing a chuckle, Dani folded her arms around herself. “Yeah, he uh, he’s just eager to get it done, you know? Realtor wants the place empty by three today.”

“Well, in that case,” he said, holding out the last cup, his smirk softening to something kinder.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking it. The brush of his fingers against hers was warm and welcome. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure, I did,” he responded with a shrug, and nudged her to take a drink, “Go on.”

At the first sip of what Dani had thought was coffee was instead a sweet and rich hot chocolate. Her eyes went wide.

Carson laughed at the expression on her face. “Thought you could use a little something sweet today.”

She smiled at him over the plastic top and took another longer sip. “Thank you,” she said, “For coming. You didn’t need to, but —”

“— You needed some extra muscle, which I’ve plenty of.” His grin seemed rueful. There lingered in Carson more of the boyish youth that Dani had seen in Eddie so many years ago. He wasn’t as gangly or as broad-shouldered as his older brothers, but he was always, without fail, a comforting presence in an otherwise rowdy O’Mara household.

“And yet none of your other brothers showed up, I see,” Dani said.

“Yeah, well,” Carson shrugged against his leather jacket, hands stuck into the pockets. “Guess, I’m just the only responsible one.”

“I knew there was a reason why I liked you best.”

He winked and lowered his voice. “Don’t let Eddie hear you say that.”

With a snort, Dani reached out and ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair so that it more resembled Eddie’s unruly curls. He ducked his head and swatted her away with a whine of complaint. She laughed when he stepped away to carefully fix his hair in the reflection of her car window.

“You leave your pomade at home again?” Dani teased. “Thought you never left without it.”

She could just make out his face in the reflection, nose scrunching up as he raked his fingers through his dark hair until it was suitably tamed. The door of the house one over opened, and a young man strode out, wearing a bathrobe and clutching a mug of coffee. Immediately Carson straightened, as though he’d been tapped with the wrong end of a cattle prod.

Dani waved. “Hi, Jason!”

Her neighbor lifted a desultory hand while he fumbled with his letterbox. “Last day?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

“Taking the last of it now,” she said.

Jason shut the letterbox and scooped up the newspaper that had been tossed onto his lawn earlier that morning. “Let me know if you need an extra hand.”

“I should be all right. That’s what Carson’s for.” She gestured with her hot chocolate towards Carson, who had his hands jammed back into his pockets and was now leaning against her car with an odd expression on his face.

Jason glanced over and nodded, no more than a jerk of his chin up, before walking back into his house with the newspaper tucked under one arm. The muscles in Carson’s jaw were clenched, standing out like the ropes of a sailing ship.

After the door to Jason’s house had swung shut, Dani asked, “I thought you two were friends?”

Carson grunted a wordless note. “We had a falling out a few months ago. Anyway —” He turned on his heel, grin back in place, and started making his way towards her house. “Show me the heavy stuff. Come on!”

By the time they first made their way inside, Eddie was already hauling out boxes filled with her things. The tops and sides of each cardboard box had been painstakingly labelled in Dani’s hand, the letters neat and blocky. Carson slipped by Eddie with an exaggerated pose as if squeezing through a tight space as they passed one another in the door. Eddie paused, arms laden, and turned his face to Dani while she climbed the steps leading up to the entryway. The extra step allowed her to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and, mollified, he continued on his way towards the truck. Once inside, she found that Carson was already heaving an armchair up with his hands. She moved out of the way so he could trot after his older brother, leaving her momentarily alone.

The house was bare. Most of her things had already been carted away the week before. The transition into their new shared home had been gradual, just like everything else in their relationship. Eddie settling in first and coaxing Dani along as though she were a particularly nervous show dog that had slipped the collar. Looking around now, hands on her hips, Dani felt like an intruder. Like she was an archaeologist who had wandered into someone else's burial site with a rusty torch and hammer.

It almost looked bigger now that it was so empty. Her footsteps echoed too loud on the wooden floors, the sound traveling further and longer. The bare walls once peppered with paintings and photos now like a skeleton expanding its ribs, waiting to expel her in one long sunken breath. Her thumb gradually drifted to her mouth as she took it all in, biting hard at her nail and skin, fixedly eyeing the spot where once a small reading nook used to be.

The sound of footsteps behind her was harsh and loud to her ears. “Hey, what did I tell you about that?” Eddie said from beside her suddenly, his hand gently pulling Dani’s away from her mouth.

She swallowed heavily and pulled her hand carefully back to hold into a fist by her side, and said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just —”

“I don’t like you hurting yourself,” he said, frowning. She couldn’t help but let her shoulders slump at the concern in his eyes, and only managed to give him a tenuous smile and a nod. “Look, we’re almost done. Soon we’ll be out of here in no time and we can finally just focus on our home. Just let me and Carson do all the hard work.”

“I can help,” Dani said. “I want to help.”

He sighed. “Danielle -”

“I have my inhaler in the car. I won’t keel over and die,” Dani said.

“Hey, Ed, buddy, what happened to that deadline, huh?” Carson said, leaning heavily on the wall and pointing behind him to the kitchen, “You gonna help me with this thing or not?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and briefly placed a hand on her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with muttered grumbling. Dani grinned after him before catching Carson’s eyes, chuckling and shaking her head as he winked at her before following Eddie.

“Gotta give her a minute to breathe, Ed.” Carson’s voice was soft, but still Dani heard it all the same and wrapped her arms tight around herself.

Clearing her throat, she strode off in the direction of her old bedroom. The bed had been taken away and put in their new spare bedroom for guests who might come to visit. The carpet still bore indentations from where the posts had once sat. Eddie had already been in here; the boxes were gone. Dani glanced around for any last remaining items that might have been forgotten. The closet door was slightly awry, and with a frown she pulled it fully open. There was a single wire coat hanger hooked on the bar that stretched across the closet. Her hand reached out to take it, when she froze.

There, tucked away into the corner beneath one of the built in shelves, was a small wooden box. She could hardly remember the last time she had seen it, let alone opened it. A layer of dust covered the top. Kneeling down, Dani pulled the box out and into her lap. She blew the dust off and had to wipe a bit more with the edge of her sleeve. It was made of plain wood with a bronze latch fastening the lid shut. Her thumb teased the corner of the latch. She worried her lower lip between her teeth before steeling herself and lifting the lid open on squeaky hinges.

Nestled inside were a series of photographs, faded with age. Something clenched in her chest as she touched the first one with trembling fingers.

She and Jamie looked so young, and they were. Barely fifteen. Jamie's arm flung around her shoulder, arm outstretched to snap the photo while she pressed a kiss to Dani's cheek even as Dani laughed and elbowed her ribs. Swallowing down the urge to be sick, she slipped the photo aside to see the next. Jamie was younger still. Her arms were outstretched as she balanced her weight on the narrow steel bar of the abandoned train tracks beyond the fields that surrounded the town. Dani could remember the day she took this with crystal clarity. The days of summer in those years had been longer somehow, stretching on into warm endless nights.

She was a furtive grave robber, flicking through picture after picture, exhuming a past that she hardly recognized herself in now. And pictures weren’t all that were stored here. There was a band shirt that had been half eaten by moths over years of neglect. An old Zippo lighter with scratched edges along the chrome plating. A necklace that was actually just a worn old half dollar coin pierced through and hung from a cheap chain. A cassette tape labelled Jamie’s Mixtape (1978) in a messy slanted scrawl, long missing its protective case. And finally, an old battered copy of Valley of the Dolls, where if she were to flick it open, she would find a pressed blue morning glory hidden among the pages.

She gently ran her hand over them, still trembling as if the living memories within the treasure trove thrummed under her skin with its own heartbeat.

In the distance, she could hear footsteps and the back and forth between Carson and Eddie in the living room as they manoeuvred a couch through the front door. When the footsteps drew closer, approaching down the hall, Dani hurriedly stuffed everything back into the box and shut the lid.

Carson leaned in the doorway. At some point he had shed his leather jacket, so that now he only wore a white undershirt that was two sizes too small, tucked into his jeans. “You good here? We’ve loaded the last of it into the truck.”

“Yeah,” Dani said. She pushed herself upright, clutching the box to her chest as though it were an heirloom. “Yeah, that's everything.”

His eyebrows rose and he nodded towards the box. “What do you got there?”

Dani’s grip tightened. She could feel the grooves of the box pressing into her skin. “Nothing important.”

—

Dani went about her routine on edge. At the supermarket, gripping the shopping cart between her hands and turning down the different aisles. At the gas station, stepping out of her beat up old car to work the pump. At the school, peering out the window at all the parents dropping off their kids in the parking lot. At the local cafe nearest the elementary school, picking up a newspaper and a slice for Hannah. Hoping for a glimpse of Jamie and dreading any encounter with her all at once.

Except Jamie never appeared. And Mikey sat at the back of the class, doodling in his notebook, not paying attention but knowing all the answers regardless whenever Dani called on him to participate. She could always see him after school sitting on the curbside and reading a new comic issue, or thumbing through a book from the paltry school library or scratching at his homework with a pencil. Not once did Dani loiter long enough to see him get picked up, and she felt a stab of irritation that he should be left alone for so long. But it wasn’t her business, and he got along well enough with the other kids during recess.

Dani was still stewing silently over the whole affair at dinner with her future in-laws. She sat at the dining table, chewing at the skin of her thumb, with Carson at one elbow and Eddie at the next. Mike, Judy’s soft-spoken stooping husband, sat at the head of the table, while Judy herself set the last of the platters down and invited everyone to tuck in.

“How’re the kids this year?” Judy asked as she spooned peas onto her plate.

Dani made a noise in the back of her throat, before lowering her hand into her lap. “Yeah, they’re great! I — uh — I actually have a transfer student.”

Judy made a sound to indicate that she was still listening even while she passed a platter across the table to Eddie.

“He’s really smart,” Dani continued. “I don’t really know what to do with him. He — well, he always looks a bit bored, to be honest.”

“Don’t they have some sort of advanced program for kids like that?” Mike asked. He had already tucked into the food even though his plate was only half full.

“I’d need to talk to the parent or guardian first,” Dani said, her stomach flipping at the thought. The peas had made their way around the table to her now, and she slowly scraped the last of them onto an available corner of her plate. Swallowing heavily, Dani concentrated hard on the steady movements of her hands, and said, “Judy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone new coming to town?”

Judy’s mouth was full. She frowned thoughtfully as she chewed, and swallowed before answering. “No, I haven’t, now that you mention it. I’ll have to ask around the ladies at the book club if they’ve seen anyone.”

Any hope Dani might have nursed of learning something new about Jamie’s presence in town flickered out like a snuffed candle. “Thanks,” she said, already feeling the conversation wander towards other topics. “Can you pass the salt, Carson?”

—

Sitting here in her Sunday best with Eddie’s warm hand in hers and a book of hymns in the other, Dani was sandwiched in the pew between her fiancé and her mother. Karen smelled sharply of cheap mall perfume, her dress pressing in tight on her ribs. The priest’s voice echoed from his place declaming near the altar, but Dani wasn’t listening. She was too preoccupied with the way her heart pounded in her chest, the clench of her stomach and the restless nerves that someone might have seen her.

She hadn’t planned on going to the movies yesterday, not at first. Not until she had seen the ad in Saturday’s morning paper, an art house theater two towns over advertising a one-time showing of Desert Hearts. It had caused such a stir in the community a few years ago that any curiosity Dani had felt toward it had died and shriveled up inside of her. Yet her Saturday afternoon had been free, and Eddie had been mercifully busy after helping her move the last of her things.

And now Dani sat in the same church she’d been going to her entire life, feeling like a marionette whose mouth was puppetted by invisible strings as she joined the others in song. The priest leading them through a hymn wasn’t the same man who baptized Dani as an infant. The bench she was sitting on wasn’t the same she sat in week after week. The woman on her right was virtually nonexistent. The man’s hand she was holding loosely in her left wasn’t the same man who she grew up with, he wasn’t the boy who asked her again and again to marry him.

This Dani, this new Dani, lied to her fiancé and drove an hour out of town the day before with a whispered prayer on her tongue for her car to just hold on for once, for just one more day to see a film that left her blushing scarlet and her stomach dropping not uncomfortably, sitting alone in the dark with a carton of untouched popcorn. This Dani would return to her car, and her first thought would turn to whether this would be the kind of movie Jamie would have picked as her choice of their weekly film showing — knowing immediately that the answer would be 'yes.’ And just as abruptly as the thought appeared, she promptly squashed the idea of even contemplating such a question.

Dani’s voice faltered, wavering over the words as a flash of guilt washed over her when the heat returned to her skin. She looked up at the cross, hanging on the back wall over the priest’s head, and glanced furtively at Eddie to see where he was in the verse, praying no one had seen her stumble. When service finally ended, and the ritualistic gossip on the front steps had been entertained, she allowed herself to be led outside. Eddie’s hand was warm and steady, completely enveloping her own, pulling her to the warm air where it finally felt like she was able to breathe again.

She felt a heady rush of relief when her mom begged off brunch, claiming to suffer from a headache as she walked to her car with a half-hearted wave. Relieved two-fold when Eddie needed to run off to the office for preliminary work for Monday, kissing her on the cheek in a goodbye that she barely registered before rushing off to his car. Until she was only left with Judy.

“So,” Judy asked, and for a brief terrifying moment Dani thought she might know, she might have finally seen her. In the end though all Judy said was: “How about that lunch?”

Judy linked their arms, pulling her in close until all Dani could do was smile and say, “Lead the way.”

The bistro Judy directed them to was relatively new, Dani had passed it multiple times over the last couple weeks but had never actually gone in, always driving by with casual curiosity and a bemused but charmed smile at the name: A Batter Place.

“You’re gonna love it,” Judy said, guiding Dani in with an arm linked in her own, “Their macaroons are to die for.”

Gamely, Dani smiled along to Judy’s enthusiasm as Judy pointed to various fixtures of the restaurant, steadily ignoring the strain building in the back of her neck. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Judy made her nervous. There were too many good intentions behind her warm eyes and her warm hugs, always with her hands full of containers of hearty food, always holding on a little longer than Dani expected, like she was afraid Dani would drift away. Judy, she knew, at least cared.

Perhaps that was why, after settling in their seats and ordering their lunch, Dani hid her hands under the table, fingers trembling as they picked at the skin of her thumb.

“So, how have you been, honey?” Judy asked over her cup of coffee, smiling that kind, good-intentioned smile. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you since school started up again.”

A small pressure valve released in Dani’s chest, and she finally allowed herself a real smile. “I’ve been keeping busy, and well — you know how it is with a new school year. This year especially is different.”

“Because of the higher grade?”

“Right. And I just — I want things to be perfect, you know?” Dani said, and chuckled ruefully, “Though twenty-five twelve year olds will certainly be a challenge.”

This she could manage. This she could at least be grateful for, the way Judy allowed the conversation to steer towards something that filled Dani with a sense of purpose, smiling proudly at her over the din of conversation around them with no mention of Eddie or long overdue wedding planning.

Judy took a pointed sip of her coffee. “Well, I know you like the challenge, but you can’t forget to take care of yourself,” she said, her lips pulling into a familiar smile. One to be used when nearing a cornered animal. Dani’s stomach sank, when Judy continued, “Now, I know you and Eddie need time to get used to living together, doing all the things couples have to learn to do alone but, you don’t have to steer clear of the house forever. I know we all recently just had dinner together but —”

Dani glanced away.

“— You could come over at any time. Like yesterday! What were you up to yesterday? I would have made lasagna for you.”

“Oh, uh —” Dani gave a nervous breathy chuckle, hoping to hide the grimace at the memory of the two women who had stared brazenly at her when she had exited the art house theater yesterday, Dani in her too bright blouse and high jeans, looking frazzled and out of place. She took a long sip of her coffee, hoping to hide the same feeling under her skin now. “You know. Busy.”

Judy waved her explanation away with that same smile. “Oh, well, never mind that. It doesn’t matter now. There’s always next weekend,” she said, and her hand reached over to clasp Dani’s before she could hide it again. “I’m just hoping I get more time to spend with my favorite future daughter-in-law before things get too crazy. Wedding planning and teaching a class of twenty-five kids is one thing, but thinking about raising a baby is another.”

A moment passed before Dani could process the words. A baby. Of course.

“Oh,” was all Dani managed to say, a polite smile frozen on her face as Judy’s grip on her hand tightened in a way that anyone else would have found comforting. The hand that Dani so wanted to pull away, to press against her chest. A pressure building inside her ribs, pulling her skin taught and straining at the edges. A ringing in her ears that sounded more and more like the whistle of a tea kettle or the whine of an over-revved engine.

She was only saved by the grace of their food arriving, the pressure abating to something manageable as Judy freed Dani’s hand to make room for their plates. It gave Dani the opportunity to down half of her coffee, hot enough to scald, and to clench a fist under the table, her nails pressing hard into the soft skin of her hand.

At the first bite of food, Judy hummed and sank back into her seat. “Now that is delicious,” she said, gesturing with her fork. “Go on, take a bite.”

Dani took advantage of the moment, letting the previous topic of conversation pass over them untouched as she pulled her own forkful of food in her mouth. She blinked in surprise.

“Wow,” she said after swallowing, sharing an incredulous chuckle with Judy. “That is really good.”

“I’m telling you, this new chef knows what he’s doing,” Judy said with a grin, as if she had known exactly how Dani would have reacted.

It should have been comforting, being so well understood. And for the most part it was. Afterall, Dani had spent much of her youth at Judy’s table, being fed day in and day out as if she were Judy’s own. Always having a safe haven. A home away from home, where she would be welcome. No questions asked. It should have been an absolute solace. Yet somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being made of glass. As if she were standing there and Judy was looking right through her at someone else that didn’t exist.

The bell attached to the door rang as it swung open, and the sound drew her back to the table, almost startling her. She swallowed down an unexpected thickness in her throat, ignoring that steady pressure in her ribs, and shared another unassuming smile with Judy, taking a second bite.

“We should come here again,” Dani said, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure that was building in her lungs.

“Then it’s a date. Next Sunday.” Judy smiled wide.

It was so easy, making Judy happy, making her smile wide and bright like she’d won the lottery. It was something Dani was good at, pleasing others. The very thought of speaking up and potentially ruining the moment was enough to cause a vein of dread to thread its way through her. Yet something in that moment caused Judy’s smile to flicker, the sound of the bell ringing again as the front door swung open with a squeak of unoiled hinges. Judy’s eyes glanced over somewhere behind Dani’s shoulder and they slowly widened to an expression Dani had only seen once before — when Eddie announced their engagement during family dinner.

“Jamie Taylor?”

Dani tensed and turned around, and sure enough, there she was. Jamie Taylor herself. Dark jeans, big work boots, and a brown jacket, strolling into the bistro like she’d never left town. Like the air from Dani’s lungs hadn’t been sucked out by a gut punch releasing every single pressure valve at the very sight of her.

“Oi, Sharma! Whatever happened to you saying you could fix those hinges without my help?” Jamie’s voice rang clear across the room.

“Danielle, honey, you didn’t tell me that Jamie was back,” Judy said in a rush of breath, already out of her seat and walking toward Jamie like a woman on a mission, as if there wasn’t a hurricane forming within Dani’s chest. As if a swell of feeling wasn’t rushing through her as she sat unmoving with wide eyes attached to the lines of Jamie’s back, to the curl of her hair, unchanged, unkempt, and yet completely different.

Whatever Dani had expected to feel upon hearing that voice again, it wasn’t to feel all of it at once. She didn’t know which feeling to land on, watching Jamie turn at the sound of Judy’s voice, catching sight of the familiar lines of Jamie’s face as they twisted in surprise and fell into a charming smile as Jamie conceded to a tight hug from Judy; the fluttering of happiness, the rush of anxiety, the desperate desire to flee, the shock that belied the anger and muted resentment.

In the end, Dani just sat there, unable to move and unable to look away.

The pair pulled out of the hug, with Judy briefly and affectionately framing Jamie’s face with her hands like she used to. And Jamie rolled her eyes good naturedly with a crooked smile, burying her hands in her pockets. It was like no time at all had passed. They were teenagers again, and Judy was sending them off back home from dinner with warm hugs and piling their hands with leftovers in tupperware.

When Judy gestured over towards their table towards Dani, it was all she could do to not run and excuse herself to the washroom, to not slip out the back door. But it was too late, tension coiling in her body as Jamie’s head turned towards Dani and their eyes finally met.

It was suddenly incredibly hard to breathe. Dani blinked, and the look on Jamie’s face at the sight of her — startled, mouth agape — was gone, and all that was left was something entirely unfamiliar. A polite placid smile as Judy talked her ear off, answering Judy’s questions and gesturing across the counter towards a handsome man with a thick moustache wearing an apron. Even so, Jamie only had eyes for Dani, her gaze occasionally roving back, her expression unreadable.

Before Dani could do more than stare, Judy was guiding Jamie back to their table, a hand on her back. Dani’s stomach twisted itself into a knot at their approach. Her heart began crashing against her ribs until it was all she could hear. Jamie was looking at her with that crooked grin, and Dani didn’t know what else to do but stand from her seat, faintly dazed, a hand brushing against invisible lint and wrinkles along her sky blue dress.

“Look who I found!” Judy said as they pulled up to the table, as if Dani hadn't been on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the last minute. The last decade, if she were being honest with herself.

All Dani could do was give a trembling smile. “Jamie,” she said, almost breathless, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. “Hi.”

Jamie’s grin shifted into something like a smirk, gaze drifting over Dani so fast that she felt it on her skin like a flash fire. “Danielle,” she said, and Dani’s smile faltered. “Been a minute.”

“It has,” Dani said in between barely gritted teeth, the feeling in her stomach souring.

“I was just telling Jamie how this is the first time I’ve brought you here,” Judy interrupted, oblivious as ever. Jamie’s smirk dropped back into something softer, an eyebrow quirked and her head tilting curiously. “How today of all days, that we all walk in the same restaurant together. It must be kismet.”

“Don’t know about that, Mrs. O’Mara. Was never much one for kismet,” Jamie said with a shrug, looking so much like she’s sixteen again that a dull pressure returned to Dani’s chest. “World’s too chaotic for that.”

“And yet here you are.” Judy shuffled back into her seat and gestured to Jamie. “Come, come sit. Just for a while until your takeout is ready.”

It was only by the grace of luck and Judy’s affection for Jamie, that she gestured toward the chair next to her instead of Dani. Jamie didn’t argue, taking the seat, and Dani following after, almost a second delayed from the shock of it all. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her as she settled in her chair, but Dani kept her attention low and focused on her food, feeling distinctly like she was in a dream.

“Danielle, truly, I can’t believe you neglected to tell me Jamie was back,” Judy admonished with a teasing grin.

She clenched her teeth. Dani had a hard time believing it herself. “Must’ve slipped my mind," she said.

“How long have you been back again, honey?”

“About two months now,” Jamie said. At the admission, Dani finally pulled her eyes away from the table to look up at Jamie, lounging back in her seat like she had all the time in the world, noticeably avoiding Dani’s gaze.

Two months. Two months, and not even a phone call. Not even a letter. Dani took another heady swallow of her now lukewarm coffee in an effort to ground herself. Some things just never changed, she guessed.

“We were so worried when you left, after — after everything, especially. We all were. I thought about you for so long afterwards. Kept you in my prayers,” Judy said, and while the words were sobering with the memories of those days, Jamie’s expression remained unchanged, detached and ambiguous, the corner of her mouth quirked.

“Then I guess I have you to thank,” Jamie said, “All that praying must’ve done something good. Mikey and I have been getting on quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

Judy gasped, a hand clutching at her chest. “Oh, Mikey! That sweet boy, how is he? Oh, I can’t believe it’s been so long. He must be — what? Eleven now?”

“Twelve actually,” Jamie said, then chuckled. It was something new. The way her eyes turned just a bit brighter, her smile more gentle, as she reached into her pocket to dig out a beat up leather wallet, flipping it open towards Judy. Judy gasped again, holding onto the wallet with a laugh. “Twelve years old and already reaching my chin," Jamie continued. "The little gremlin’s gonna have me beat by next year at this rate, I swear.”

“He’s wonderful,” Judy said, her eyes alight with emotion, “Gosh, he looks just like you. Except for the eyes, those sweet brown eyes. He’s definitely going to be a heartbreaker.”

“Not on my bloody watch,” Jamie grumbled.

“Have you seen him yet, Danielle?” Judy held out the wallet to Dani, who had to refrain from recoiling back, as if Judy was holding out a live snake.

“I have,” Dani admitted quietly, “He’s one of my students, actually.”

“Oh, so that’s what all those questions were about the other day,” Judy said, and tapped Jamie playfully on her arm resting on the table with her wallet. “What did I tell you? Kismet.”

Jamie flipped the wallet shut and returned it to her pocket. “Mikey did mention the name once or twice. Miss Clayton this, Miss Clayton that, and I thought: what are the chances?”

Dani swallowed down a scoff and the bitterness brewing in the back of her throat. Her left hand ached from clutching it so tight in her lap, knuckles white, crescent-shaped grooves in her palm. She stretched her hand out and ran it through her hair, her fingers trembling as they smoothed down the gentle waves and curls she put in that morning.

“Ah, so he’s done it then,” Jamie said, apropos of nothing. She leaned forward on the table, staring so abruptly and intently that Dani shifted away in her own seat slightly, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

It was the first time Jamie had fully addressed her since that singular hello. Dani frowned, that ever present knot in her stomach twisting tighter. “Sorry?”

“That nice big shiny rock on your hand.” Jamie gestured down to the aforementioned rock, and sure enough, there was her engagement ring, shining bright against the afternoon light pouring through the window. “Must’ve cost a damn fortune.”

Dani had thought the same, when Eddie had dropped to his knee, proffering up the box where the ring lay, his face flickering through a wide array of emotions — adoration, anxiety, hope. At the time all Dani could think, staring down at the large square cut diamond, was that it looked heavy.

“But isn’t it gorgeous?” Judy gushed, reaching out to grasp Dani’s hand to pull it closer for Jamie to see. Dani breathed out an awkward laugh at the sudden motion but let herself be dragged along. “I went to help him pick it out, and — gosh, well, we all know how many times he’s asked over the years. Our Danielle always liked to keep him on his toes. I just about died at the news when they officially announced the engagement a few months later.”

Jamie whistled low. “I can imagine,” she drawled.

Judy continued to ramble about the announcement. She released the hand that Dani tried to surreptitiously and swiftly return under the table, hoping to hide the desire to shrink under the table as well. Meanwhile Jamie seemed to be only half-listening, watching Dani with a tilted head and a sharp glance that left Dani feeling like a strip of overexposed film. Her eyes strayed to Jamie's old scar against her will, landing on the long stretch of a pale line that started from her lower lip and descended down towards her chin. It was usually hard to see, but today it was easy to find in the light of the room.

Dani swallowed thickly and glanced away.

“So, how’d he do it?”

“Mmm?” Dani looked back up, a little dazed.

Jamie’s head tilted pointedly towards her. “Ed,” she said. “How’d he go about it this time? To be honest with you, I had my bets placed on senior prom night, like he’d always planned. Flowers in the park after the dance, and all that rubbish.”

“He told you that?” Dani frowned.

“Wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Oh.” Dani fiddled with the ring, glancing down at it. “No, it was um — “ She smiled, a frail subdued thing, only to fold her right hand over it, covering the diamond so that it dug into her palm, “ — it was during a dinner date.”

Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “In public?”

Dani nodded. “Yeah.”

“Christ,” Jamie breathed, looking somewhat horrified.

“Language, sweetie,” Judy piped in, seemingly instinctively.

And like clockwork, Jamie ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all.

Judy laughed, patting Jamie’s arm. “Gosh, just look at us,” she breathed, her eyes shining as they bounced between Dani and Jamie. “I still can’t believe it. Me and my girls back together again. Who’d have thought?”

Dani breathed out a chuckle, her cheeks aching from the force of holding a smile in place, not knowing what else to say. And what could she say, really? That none of this felt familiar? That it all felt so wrong? That after years of absence, to finally be just arm’s length away from Jamie, only to feel like she was meeting a stranger wearing a familiar face?

No. No, that wasn’t right. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, but Jamie had never stopped watching her. A shared look passed between them and it was there, finally, that she found something warm and tangible. The ghost of a memory of sitting across the table from each other at Judy’s during dinner, sharing a secretive knowing smile, while Judy gushed over Dani’s help in the kitchen, or admonished Jamie for yet another skinned knee. A smile pulled at the corners of Dani’s mouth, slow and real. Jamie blinked, her gaze softening as she mirrored Dani’s smile, and for the first time in a long time, Dani felt something in her chest unspool.

A bell rang. Jamie glanced away, and the moment was gone, leaving Dani chilled in its absence as if she had stepped out from a warm building and into a storm.

“That’s my cue,” Jamie said, sounding just as she had before, as if nothing had transpired between them. “Can’t let the kid starve without some lunch.”

She moved to stand but Judy’s hand held her in place. “Don’t think you can get away again this time without at least letting me give you my number,” Judy reprimanded not unkindly. "We got a new one at the house, you'll be surprised to hear."

Grinning crookedly, Jamie said, “And I imagine you’ll be wanting mine, then?”

Judy pulled out a pen from her purse and waggled it back and forth. “You know me too well.”

Grabbing a spare napkin, Judy jotted down a series of numbers. “Now don’t you forget to give me a call, all right? I want to hear all about your time away,” she said, handing over the pen and napkin for Jamie to rip out her piece, and note down her own number. Dani’s eyes strayed down to the confident, angled numbers, just barely able to decipher them from her vantage point. “And I hope you know, you and Mikey are welcome any time over for dinner. I want to meet that young man. See if he’s anything like his older sister.”

The words were fond, but Jamie snorted all the same. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. O’Mara. He’s my better half.”

Dani rose to her feet out of politeness when Judy stood to give Jamie a parting hug. For a terrifying moment, she thought Jamie might expect one from her as well, but Jamie only lifted her eyebrows and nodded before turning towards the counter to collect her order. She didn’t glance in Dani’s direction again as she left, pushing through the glass door and striding off down the street with the breeze in her hair. Dani watched her go, jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth together.

Judy sat, and Dani followed suit as though she were simply mimicking Judy’s movements. “Jamie Taylor back from the dead after ten years. Imagine that.” Judy chuckled to herself and picked up her fork. “Feels just like old times, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dani breathed. “Just like old times.”

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #dani clayton/jamie #bring home a haunting #dani clayton #jamie taylor #cfau #roman writes #FINALLY

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novantinuum · 3 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1600~

Summary: Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Ah, my first Lapis POV fic! This one has been in my drafts for ages- at least a year and a half. Feels nice to finally have it done.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

________

Finally Free

It’s funny, in a way.

She spent thousands of years trapped inside herself, unable to form... hating the Crystal Gems... fearing the endless destructive conquest of the Diamonds... and yet in the end, the first time she falls in a battle she fought willingly she does so fighting alongside those star-bearing rebels, face-to-face with the very Diamond who abandoned her to Earth to be forgotten to begin with.

And now, she’s gone. Trapped inside herself again. It’s equal parts disorienting as it is concerning. After all, Lapis Lazuli cannot see the world beyond. She has no way of knowing if the Crystal Gems lost or won. No way of knowing if she’ll be shattered at any moment. It’s nerve-racking— suffocating! She wants out. She wants to know.

But no matter what she tries, she can’t manage to pull herself out of this formless limbo on demand. She always imagined that the next time she got struck down she’d reform in an instant... pop right back up like the next day’s dawn, ready to slice the waves and swing her fists like she’s never been shaken to her knees in the first place. Apparently not.

Despite her dearest wishes, it would seem the universe has a higher agenda.

Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Fittingly, it’s the ocean who greets her first as she hovers midair in the midst of reformation, arms outstretched and coursing with newfound strength as her form fully solidifies. She gently falls to her knees on the sand. With the sun’s energizing warmth kissing the gemstone on her back, she spreads her fingers through the fine granules, her relief at being free from unconsciousness’ cruel prison so palpable and overwhelming that for a moment she’s irrationally terrified she’ll poof again from the intensity of this fierce emotion alone. Her hard-light body remains solid, however. After all, she’s a stubborn Gem. There’s no way she’ll let herself poof as easily as she did this time around ever again.

Coaxing herself to her feet, she makes a clear point of judiciously surveying her surroundings. Her first big clue as to the outcome of the battle is the fact that the Diamond ships still lay broken and motionless in the shallows at the edge of the peninsula. (Not to mention the fact that the Earth is still... well, here.) Directly behind her, she finds a makeshift worktable formed out of a thick board placed over twin stacks of wood, with plenty of human tools scattered across its surface. No one appears to be hanging around Steven’s house right now, but there’s a sizable tarp thrown over the half that Blue’s ship smashed during the battle. That’s good, that insinuates that someone’s alive to begin repairs. Although, wait a minute... Her brow sharply creases as she filters back through recent memory. Wasn’t that ship still leaning against the side of the cliff when she poofed? How’d it get into the water? And how did the arm ship’s thumb get reattached?

Before she can fret about these mysteries further and and risk losing herself to a burst of paranoid panic, she hears her name called from the distance. Attentively, she whirls around, seeking its source.

It’s Peridot, sprinting right towards her across the fine sand as if the rest of this growing, changing world has somehow hurtled to an abrupt stop. But not her. Goodness, never her. She’s always in motion, always manages to be so alive.

And she... she’s changed her outfit. There’s stars everywhere, on her leggings at her knees, in the silhouette formed by the shape of her visor and hair, and plastered proudly right across her chest. Lapis can’t help but give a fond smirk at the sight. It suits her. Now she can finally represent like a true Crystal Gem.

“Lapis!” she exclaims as she crosses the final distance, lands herself face-to-face once more. “You’re finally back!”

For a minuscule moment the green eyes behind that tinted visor glitter with deep affection and relief, and her arms stretch outward as if she intends to envelop her in a tight embrace and never let go, but as oft is the case, the turbulent waves of emotion coursing through this Gem are riddled with more complexity than initial appearances let on. And if there’s one thing Lapis fails to excel at, it’s understanding how to best respond to the nuances of complex emotions. She’s never been much of a people person, even before her capture.

Eventually, the joyful familiarity within Peridot’s expression dims, and— inhaling deep— she steeples her fingers together as if she were an agate merely addressing a subordinate. The tone of her voice becomes bitingly procedural, detached.

(Try as she may, Lapis can’t block the ephemeral ache this new reality elicits at her core as the conversation continues. She clutches at her wrist, shamefully dropping her gaze to the sand.)

“Anyways,” the former Kindergarten technician says evenly, gesturing at the mess littering the beach behind them, “we have a lot of work to do. No time to waste!”

Her brow creases. “But... didn’t we win?”

“We did, yes,” she nods in confirmation. “Bismuth can explain in more depth, but she’s currently on one of the diamond ships. We’re fixing them so we can fly out as backup.”

“Backup? Backup for what?”

Peridot’s cool and collected guise crumples at this query, her hands curling into small fists as she blinks away any lingering evidence of her distress.

“Steven’s in trouble,” she reveals. “We just received a distress message from him yesterday. I’m told he returned to Homeworld with the Diamonds to discuss healing all the corrupted Gems, but...”

“Something went wrong,” she guesses, the shadow of her bangs darkening over her eyes. “They turned on him.”

“Well... we don’t really know what happened. Which is why time is of the essence!” she says with a sudden surge of positive energy, swiftly jabbing her pointer finger in the air. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where we’re working.”

Her old roommate prepares to jog away, towards the other side of the beach where the ships lay in temporary rot and ruin. Time stills in Lapis’ mind, if but for a brief moment, as she watches the sunlight glint at the upper edge of her visor, the refraction producing almost kaleidoscopic patterns in the sand. The choppy rhythm of the ocean, its undulating melody as it washes in and away from shore, uninterrupted... it almost sounds sad. She hums a few bars of a song she wrote back in her solitude, on the moon. And then she realizes, eyes widening... that she never really left that place, did she? In a way, even though she returned to Earth, it’s like she’s still stuck watching everyone from that observation sphere, still barring herself from nurturing her relationships with others out of fear.

Lapis throws her glance out towards the endless horizon, standing tall and erect as the loose pants of her new form billow against her legs in the light breeze. The long-held tension at her core releases. She’s done closing herself off from people. She’s done with feeling trapped and alone. She wants to mend her relationships, not let them erode away.

Which means... she has to at least try to make things right with Peridot. Somehow.

The tide’s pace resumes to its full intensity. At that precise moment, her friend turns on her heels, swiftly preparing to return to their work site.

“Peridot,” she says, quickly stepping forward to catch her shoulder before she can walk off, before she journeys to some distant shore where she can’t follow.

The shorter Gem freezes in place upon the utterance of her name. She doesn’t respond in words initially, lips tightly pursed. Waiting. Hoping.

(Stars, just say it!)

“I... I shouldn’t have run away,” Lapis blurts out, her form growing lighter the second that vocalization crosses the threshold from her guilt-filled subconscious to shining reality. “That was... a huge mistake. And I really wish I could make it up to you, but...” Her scattered focus shifts as she searches for something— anything— to say in further acknowledgement of her regret, eventually landing upon the shattered remnants of wood still strewn across the beach. She sighs sadly, giving her respects. “I’m pretty sure we can both agree that the barn’s a goner.”

Under her hold, Peridot’s once-tense shoulder relaxes. She makes no move to face her, however, still drinking in the no-doubt humbling sight of this planet’s boundless sea

“Well,” she begins slowly. “As long as you work to communicate with your friends whenever you feel overwhelmed in the future, and promise not to kidnap all of my morps into space again, I think we can call it even.”

She places one of her hands atop hers, the action but a small sign of their renewed goodwill.

“In any case, I’m- really glad you’re back,” she says, fondness evident in her tone.

Lapis smiles.

The ocean’s melody is no longer tinged with a companionless melancholy.

It’s funny how things can change.

She spent thousands of years terrified of the consequences of being caught as traitor to the Great Diamond Authority, and now she’s planning to illegally commandeer a diamond ship to fly a rescue mission into the stagnant heart of Homeworld. She’s only been a Crystal Gem for the equivalent of a few minutes, and yet she’s already reformed bolder and braver than ever before.

She feels strong. Despite the inherent danger of their task, she feels an ever-building reassurance, fighting amongst her friends. For the first time ever, she finally feels like someone has her back.

Lapis closes her eyes as she reflects on the culmination of her journey, standing confident alongside her dear friend on the bridge of Blue’s ship.

No more searching. No more running. She’s finally free.

#su #lapis lazuli #peridot #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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fandomsonrequests · 3 years

Text

𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 11]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 3.6k+

summary: It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: part 11!! whew- i think its almost halfway? im sorry if the series is taking too long ;^; but thank you to those as well to whoever enjoys this so far! i really appreciate it! <3

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself @minihongjoong @i-purrple-u @taetae123094 @jeonartemis @barcelona-sergei @theoinkypiglet @sparklychangbin @krystal-cole @mangotexts @tooweirdforyou

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The skies today were as blue as the crystal seas as fluffy white clouds filled the heavenly bodies. The sun peeks over The Capitol, basking the townsfolk in its bright but warm rays. The city village teemed with life as people went about their business.

Today was actually a good day. But not for the delegates- today was the day of elimination.

The small dining hall the young delegates ate in was quiet. No one said a word, if they did it was done in tones no louder than a whisper. Only the ear-piercing sound of utensils scraping against the ceramic plate was heard along with the occasional clinking of mugs against the wooden table.

The atmosphere was thick with tension. Each one of these young people felt as if they were Atlas, bearing the weight of the world on their shoulders. No one and nothing could ease them of the uncertainty on whether who gets to stay or not. Even the cockiest person among you was quiet.

You on the other hand felt as if the weight was doubled. You didn’t know how you would be questioned regarding the chapter you had painstakingly read. You had wasted so many nights and lost so much sleep over that you could only hope you didn’t fail whatever task Hae-seong had in mind.

Breakfast passed by quickly and you soon found yourself lined up by the courtyard. Haeseong stood in front of you as Byron, and a few other knights, stood by the duke’s left. A rack of training swords was soon rolled in, the inanimate object seemingly taunting you. You knew the final exam was about to take place.

“Delegates,” Haeseong called out in his annoyingly nasal voice. “Today is the day of elimination. We’ve reviewed your grades from training and academics and unfortunately, half of you are going home.”

A few gasps erupt from around you. You could feel your palms sweat with anxiousness and the fabric of the uniform seemed to itch more. You tighten your hands into a fist, silently praying that you’d pass this first set of eliminations.

“This just proves how incompetent you people are.” Haesong continued to earn a disappointed sigh from the large man beside him.

“Nevertheless, it didn’t mean you didn’t try your best,” Byron interjected and sent a tiny glare to the duke who brushed it off nonchalantly. “Anyway, as your final exam- you’d be partnered off randomly to duel with the training swords.

“And for safety precautions, we shall be putting each of you in light armor.”

You tense at that. Though you weren’t helpless when it came to swordsmanship- you weren’t sure if you were good enough either. Nevertheless, you just hoped you’d make it far. You glance to your right to see Siyeon’s lip quivering with nervousness. Your fingers discreetly tangled with hers, receiving a grateful squeeze of your hand in return. You send her a small smile to encourage her. Although she was still tense, she had relaxed a bit and had steadier breathing.

As you were all being suited up for the exam, a few of the royal court had come to watch. Among them were two of Hae-seong’s sons- the eldest who was a couple of years older than you and his youngest son who was only eighteen. You’ve seen them around the castle a few times. The younger, Minjae, was a bit spoiled but respectful nonetheless. He could be a little boisterous but you chalked that off to his teenage hormones.

The eldest, on the other hand, Beom-seok, was just as nasty as his father or not worse. Not only was he prideful or an elitist, oh no- he had no respect in general. He would eye some of the female delegates like they were pieces of meat and pick on the castle servants when he walked around. What was worse is that whenever no higher-ups in the court were around, he’d strut along the palace as if he owned the place. He was disgusting but not many seemed to care because of his charming looks and stature in life. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose, and fierce eyes. But his aura was just so repulsive not many really stayed friends with him.

You saw him whisper to his brother as he glanced over at all of you. The pair snickered but the younger seemed to do so just to get his brother to shut up. Beom-seok must have been spewing some hateful stuff again so you chose to ignore him. Instead, you glance up the large window of the palace in the middle of the courtyard, hoping to see the prince.

Seonghwa managed to plague your thoughts often ever since he had met you. He was just so different than you imagined- you didn’t think you’d grow fond of him in the way you do with your friends. You hoped that you do succeed in becoming his bodyguard because that way, you could still maintain your friendship with him.

As your gaze lands on the window, you see the prince looking down at all of you with interest. But beside him was Lady Ayeong, looking as ethereal as ever. A gentle yet curious smile was settled on her delicate lips as she surveyed over all of you. You found it hard to believe that an angel like her was the daughter of the devil.

Seonghwa’s eyes meet yours and he sends you a subtle wink. You roll your eyes in amusement but nodded your head at him before focusing your attention on the knight in front of you to start donning the armor for the final exams.

“Is it really this serious that light armor is needed?” Ayeong asks Seonghwa, looking up at him with a concerned glint in her eye.

The prince merely nodded but gave her a reassuring smile in return. “Don’t worry. No one gets seriously injured during these. It may hurt but nothing that could kill.”

Once you were all settled with the armor and the weapons, you were all ushered to the side as Byron called out two people’s names to duel. One was Julian- a city dweller with a flamboyant personality. His bouncy auburn hair glinted under the afternoon sun as he strolled up to the middle. His confidence was outstanding, it was his biggest asset. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be his biggest downfall either.

The other was Gahyeon. You and Siyeon, as well as other folks from Trelark, sent her silent cheers. You all watched as both delegates took their positions across each other, arms raised and weapons held firmly in their hands.

This was it.

Everyone watched earnestly as Gahyeon struck first, clashing her sword against Julian’s. The sound of wood on wood was heard throughout the courtyard. Several cries rang out and the nasty sound of splinters cracking soon joined in.

By the end of the first duel, Gahyeon ended up with her back flat against the cobble and the wooden sword pressed to her chin. Julian was panting heavily and looked like he could collapse at any moment. Gahyeon proved that if she was going down, she was going to do so with a fight.

Hae-seong says nothing, just dismissing the two and making them return to their spots in the line. “Julian wills the duel!” Byron announces before calling up the next two.

Several more pairs came up. Some of the cockiest delegates had karma coming and lost the duel. Others surprised you like the quiet girl, Ursula, from the farming village in the South. She generally kept out of everyone’s business and was shorter than the average woman your age but she was quick on her feet and managed to take down her much bigger opponent pretty quickly.

You were still marveling over Ursula’s assassin-like skill when Byron called your name. You snap out of your thoughts and head over to the middle where your opponent was already waiting. It was one of the bigger boys from the mining villages. You gulp nervously as you take your training sword from Byron and face your partner.

You could feel your palms clam up and your heartbeat rapidly against your chest. The two of you assumed duel stances, swords in hand, waiting patiently for the signal to start. By this time, more of the royal court had come out to watch. You saw two young men that often accompanied Seonghwa stand off to the side. Maybe they were his friends but their presence just added some pressure to you.

You inhale deeply and let out a shaky sigh right before Byron gives the signal. You make the first move, dispelling all your nerves with a short yell and bringing down your sword against your opponent’s. You managed to catch him off guard as he stumbled with his weapon, clearly not anticipating your strength.

And for a short moment, you felt a bout of victory— that was until he pulled back his sword and swung at you. You stepped off to the side and blocked his blow, the force of the impact shot up your arms and to your shoulders. It was a rather harsh one, leaving you to grit your teeth to keep them from chattering.

You step back when he swings at you again and you retaliate by blocking it off and swiftly following up with a slash near his middle. He narrowly avoids your move, hopping backward to do so. Your movements came right after the other, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You could practically hear your heartbeat thrum in your ears. Dust kicks up around you as you advance towards him, giving him blow after blow. Your opponent was left to defend rather than attack, his bigger stature causing himself to slow down at your faster movements.

You felt confident that you’d win this duel. That is until Hae-seong calls out your name and distracts you. Your foot hooks against your ankle as you mean to step forward, causing you to trip. Your opponent takes this moment to swing his sword at your foot, making you fall onto your front. Several gasps were heard around you along with a ferocious cry. You look up to see your opponent actually bring down his sword against you.

Luckily, you manage to roll away in time and the training sword lands against the spot you were on. “Are you crazy??” You exclaim. That blow could’ve killed you. You stumble back onto your feet, now weaponless as your sword had fallen out of your grip when you tripped. Your opponent takes a moment to kick away your sword and advance towards you.

You dodge another swing from him, shifting your feet to help you avoid him. “Aren’t you going to stop him?” You ask Byron and Hae-seong. The former remains silent but there’s a glint of sympathy in his eyes. The nobleman on the other hand simply grinned and shrugged.

“This is part of your test, _____. Remember the book I made you memorize? Well, I decided to quiz you— right now. I want to see how focused you really are.” He sneers. His eldest son laughs at his father’s words, making your blood boil.

You eye your sword that was only a few steps away. Your opponent wasn’t an idiot— he knew what you were trying to do; he was doing everything to keep you from getting it back. But you were determined and stubborn as a mule.

“First question, ______,” Hae-seong calls out as you step to the side and dodge another hit. “Name all seven kingdoms and what each are known for,”

“The Nessa Empire: the kingdom near the sea,” You start out, trying your best to focus on the man in front of you while answering correctly. “Our kingdom of Sarem: the kingdom of the earth; the Kingdom of Velaris..” You continue on with the list and successfully manage to answer his questions.

This goes on— Hae-seong throwing question after question at you while you respond correctly- much to the duke’s annoyance. Of course, you would stumble every now and then, fatigue slowly creeping up on you, but you push through it. And finally, you see an opening.

Your sword lay a couple of steps away and your opponent was far enough for you to reach over and grab it. You briefly glance over to the weapon and keep your gaze trained ahead of you. You patiently wait for Hae-seong to ask you another question, slowly inching towards your sword.

“Final question,” The nobleman huffed, trying to get you to mess up. “Sarem takes pride in our trade in grains and precious stones; true or false?”

You almost answered “true” but you remembered what the prince had said the first night you met.

“Don’t believe everything that book says— especially the part about how our kingdom trade works. It says something about grain or stones but that section is terribly inaccurate.”

You thought it was nasty on Hae-seong’s part to pull that trick out on you but you didn’t pay any attention to that.

“False!” You answered just as your opponent was about to bring his sword down on you. You rushed to pick up your own and swing it up to block his strike. This caught him off guard, allowing you to kick your foot out under him and make him lose balance. He falls flat against his back and you scramble to kick his own weapon away, pointing your sword against his throat.

Byron takes this as a chance to end the duel seeing as both of you were tired. Your turn went longer than anticipated. “_____ wins this duel.” He announces, earning a few applause from the bystanders.

You almost collapse to the ground in relief as victory floods your system. Thank the heavens. You helped your opponent up and gave him a bow of your head to which he responded in kind. You were still pretty banged and up and bruised since he got more hits in but it was all worth it to be able to make it past this final exam and to see the annoyance on Hae-seong’s face.

It was obvious he hoped you would mess up but at least he knew to give credit when it’s due, even if it hurt his pride. He turned his pointy nose up and waved the two of you away to return to your spots and allow other delegates to go. “Moving on—“

You plop down onto your original spot, Siyeon shaking your shoulder excitedly. “You killed it!” She cheers quietly, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m so proud of you, Yellow.”

“Thanks, Wolfie.” You reply, giving her hand a squeeze.

You tear your gaze away from your friend and up to the window to where Seonghwa and Ayeong were watching. From your spot on the ground, it was clear that he had the brightest smile on his face.

“Her fighting spirit is commendable,” Ayeong praises, referring to you. She turns to her husband to be with a curious tilt of her head. “Don’t you think so?”

The prince felt his chest swell his pride, a warm feeling running through his veins. Though you two had met recently, he felt as if he was your friend for his whole life. He couldn’t help but feel proud of what you had achieved today. He nods in response to his companion. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The final dueling exams ended late into the afternoon. It felt exhausting to watch and go through- after all there were 20 pairs that had to go through this. Despite that- tensions were still high as everyone anxiously waited for their results.

Some looked hopeful while others remained dejected. It was clear to some that they were convinced that they would be eliminated; regrets of not trying hard enough during the first few days due to their reluctance flooded their thoughts. Only hushed whispers and silent sobs were heard through the courtyard as everyone let their frustrations out.

Amihan scoots over to you as she clutches her splinted hand to her chest; she had fallen down during her duel causing her wrist to be sprained. Her face had dejection written all over it; it was far from her usually laid back look. Raviv follows behind her like a concerned mother hen, brows furrowed.

“I think I’m going to be sent home,” She admits quietly to your group, eyes glazed over with tears that were threatening to fall. Both you and Siyeon immediately move to comfort her, taking her hands in yours. “I should’ve tried harder,”

“Ami, you did your best. That’s what’s important,” Siyeon says as she comforts the older girl. “You’re such a fierce fighter Amihan. Maybe you’d pass.”

You nod in response as you offer your friend a comforting smile. “Just shout it out to the world and think of it, it's sure to happen.”

Amihan only shrugged in response but thanked both of you nonetheless. She sat back on her heels and sighed, looking down to her palms. “Thank you for comforting me… but think it’s useless either way. I’m injured so I can’t go on with training.”

“Maybe they’ll excuse you,” Raviv interjects and settles a hand over her shoulder. “Please don’t be so down on yourself, Ami..”

Before any of you can say anything more, the duke clears his throat and catches all of your attention. He had a roll of parchment in his hand, most likely containing the list of all delegates who made it past the first half of elimination. Right now, there were fifty of you, twenty females and thirty males. All that could change after tonight.

“I shall now be announcing the delegates who passed.”

Tension rises and a pregnant silence fills the atmosphere. It was absolutely suffocating. You could feel your heart beat erratically against your chest as you laced your fingers with both Siyeon’s and Amihan’s hands. You didn’t want to go home— not when you were this far. The weight of the pendant your father gave you seemed heavy against your chest, a constant reminder of why you were here in the first place.

“Abel,” Hae-seong started listing out. One by one, a name was called followed by a deep sigh of relief. Stifled tears and quiet sobs were soon heard when the duke failed to call their name.

One of those unfortunate ones was Amihan. When Duke Hae-seong continued on with the list, the names now starting with B, your heart fell. You look over to your friend who had a resigned yet accepting look in her eyes. You couldn’t believe it. Your friend was no longer going to be with you.

“Ami..” You mutter quietly, chest heavy with grief. She only smiles at you, cupping your cheek and brushing away a hair that stuck to your face.

I’ll be okay. She whispers to you before doing the same for both Raviv and Siyeon. You felt numb. It was such a short time since you’ve known her but you’ve created a deep bond with her since your stay— it would be hard to see her go.

The names went on and luckily, you, Siyeon, and Raviv was still safe. For a moment your solemn thoughts turned into relief. At least you were safe, you were still in the game. You still had the chance to win this thing.

“That’s all, you are now dismissed. You may return to your rooms. To those who were eliminated, we thank you for trying your best,” Hae-seong drawls out, oddly chipper. Maybe he was just glad that he didn’t have to deal with any more “brats.” “A carriage awaits you tomorrow morning so I suggest you start packing up.”

Usually, the walk to the rooms would be lively and full of playful banter. Now it was just glum and filled with frustrated cries. Whispers of comfort floated through the air as the group parted ways to head to their respective rooms. But before Raviv could part with the rest of you, he walks over to Amihan and gives her a tight embrace. They exchange a few words, only whispered between the two of them, before separating ways.

You and Siyeon were on either side of Amihan’s side as you walked down the hall, trying to make the most of your last moments with her. Your friend had long stopped crying, her tears turning down to sniffles. She was quick to accept her fate.

“Well, at least I got to live in a palace for 2 and a half months.” She jokes in hopes to lighten the mood. “Even though it was a short period of time, I’m glad I was able to make friends with you two…”

She turns to both of you, pulling you to the side to allow others to enter the room without blocking the way. “I’ll miss you both.. better write to me or else I’m coming back here to hunt your asses down.”

She managed to pull some laughs out of you and Siyeon before bringing you into a group hug. It was a bittersweet moment and none of you could stop the tears from falling. It was kind of cathartic to be able to cry after a long while, even if they were grieving their separation from each other. It was Amihan once again who pulled herself together and straightened up.

“I hope one of you wins. And I know one of you will.” She says with such conviction in her voice it was hard to not believe her.

As you help her keep her things for her leave tomorrow, you couldn’t help but allow this moment to fuel something within you. You had another person to fight for, and that’s exactly what you needed. If things were hard now, they were surely going to get harder.

#ateez x reader #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x reader #prince!seonghwa #prince seonghwa #prince park seonghwa #ateez #ateez royalty au #ateez fantasy au #royalty au #fantasy au #regiis #fandomsonrequests #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez imagines

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cryysiswritesthings · 3 years

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Beneath the Darkness in My Bones || Chapter Four

Fandom: Inuyasha Rating: Mature/NC-17 Warnings: Horror, Psychological Torture, Trauma, Implied/Referenced Torture, Rape, Parent/Child Incest, Obsession, Drugged Sex, Sexual Assault, Abuse, Non-Consensual Somnophilia Status: In Progress Pairing(s): KogKag (main), BanKag, Oni(gumo)Kag Summary: Horror is all she knows. Darkness is in his blood. She is the other half of his soul, and his calls for her echo long into the night.

Find it On: Tumblr | AO3

***NOMINATED FOR THE BEST DARK FICTION CATEGORY FOR FEUDAL CONNECTION’S 2020 3RD QUARTERLY ANNUAL AWARD!!***

Thank you so much to my amazing readers! You guys rock!

Series: Flowers Grown in Darkness Desecrate You

Chapters on Tumblr: Prologue || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 ||

Tumblr Tags: #kogkag #bankag #onikag #inuyasha #beneath the darkness #btd chapter #flowers desecrate series

The room is dark wood and fogged glass, the canopy above her draped in red. There's a fire blazing in the corner, warming her body for reasons she doesn't understand. She lays atop the blankets, her only covering a robe so sheer she may as well not be wearing it at all. The fabric is cool against her heated flesh, slits on its side letting it pool around her enticingly.

There's a man at the edge of her bed, with long dark hair and hard eyes. He is dressed as she is, in a black silk robe hanging open, revealing pale skin. But where she is naked beneath her silk, he is wearing trousers made to sleep in.

They do little to hide his interest in her state of undress.

"I see you've made yourself ready for me, dearest."

Had she? Her mind is filled with cobwebs, a blurred haze keeping her from her memory.

"I have made myself ready for you." Yes, that must be it. Why else would she be this way?

"Is my wife pleased to see me?"

His wife? So he was her husband then. Then yes, she should be happy to see him.

"I am happy to see you," she tells him. The words are correct, but they do not feel like her own.

"Of course you are." His smile is sharp and wicked. She shivers, though she cannot say why. "Come to me."

She makes to stand, but he slashes her a look.

"On your knees, pet."

Her knees? It takes a moment for the command to make sense. He wants her to crawl on the bed to him. He wants her displayed.

He crooks a finger at her, motioning her forward. She does as she's bid, crawling up the bed on all fours. He lifts her by the chin when she reaches him, making her rise on her knees. He can see all of her.

"I am your husband."

"You are my husband."

"You are mine to do with as I please."

She swallows. "I am yours to do with as you please."

His smile is deadly. "Undress me."

Her hands are shaking as they reach for him, pushing the silk from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. She reaches for his trousers next, but his hand on her wrist stops her. Instead he draws it forward, making her fingers circle and tighten around his manhood.

"Use your hands, dearest. Please your husband."

Unsure, she flexes her fingers around him, stroking him through the soft cloth. His eyes flutter shut, a moan of pleasure humming in his throat. He's enjoying it then.

She continues to tug at him, and there is now a growing wetness where his tip rests against the fabric. She circles her finger there, and he hisses through his teeth. His eyes on hers are dark, hungry. They make her nervous.

He reaches to the small table at the edge of the bed, on which sits an uncorked bottle of wine, a small vial, and two full goblets. With one hand he picks up the vial and opens it, pouring its contents into one of the goblets. He recaps the vial and sets it carefully aside, then picks up the now slightly fuller cup, holding it out to her.

"Do not stop pleasuring me. Drink."

He lifts the cup to her lips, tilting it enough to allow the wine to flow into her mouth. She swallows obediently, her hands ever moving. He makes her drink until the goblet is empty, and sets it aside.

The cobwebs have grown, the haze blurring her vision. The man in front of her pushes her back on the bed and crawls over her, making her hold herself open for him. Presenting herself like a sacrifice.

He aligns himself with her opening, his smile full of teeth. Her blue eyes are glossy, unseeing.

"Hello, Kikyo."

He thrusts inside.

It was three more days before his lordship decided to finally leave the castle. In the end, he decided to extend his hunting trip by a few more days in order to tour the local villages on their return home.

This, of course, meant it wasn't only Bankotsu going with him. He'd also decided to bring Jakotsu and Kyokotsu along as well. Jakotsu was known by his reputation of cruelty alone, but Kyokotsu’s massive size was more than enough to use as an intimidation tactic.

The rumors spreading through the castle village that he had cannibalistic tendencies were only an added bonus.

Still, it meant the castle was quiet, and it was safe for her to walk the halls without having to look over her shoulder. The peace let her think of other things, and she found her mind wandering back to what she'd seen in the hidden room the previous week. There was no doubt that whoever had been trapped in that cell was still sitting there. The only question was whether or not they were still alive.

The thought continued to haunt her. If they were dead, there was nothing she could do for them. But if they lived, what state were they in? Were they being allowed food to eat, water to drink? Blankets to keep out the nights growing chill? Should… should she help them?

Her immediate response was yes, of course she should, if only because she hoped some kind soul would do the same if she were in such a position. But not only that, it was the right thing to do despite the potential danger. And to not do something, to not try and help in some way…

It made her feel like her father.

That was what ultimately decided her. The kitchens were in the lower part of the castle, and no one stopped her on the way. There she found a small basket which she filled with fruit, bread, and cheeses. She also made sure to pick up a pouch of water.

A cheesecloth kept her precious cargo from prying eyes, but there were no servants in the halls to stop her. Even so, habit kept her close to the walls and out of the way of any potential passer by, while also letting her peek around corners to ensure she wouldn’t run into anyone she wanted to avoid.

The tapestry that hid the doorway loomed over her, its subjects staring down with leering eyes. But she would not be swayed. Swallowing her nerves and finding her courage, she pushed her way past it and slipped inside the door.

Again there was little light to guide her way. The scones on the walls had not been lit, and would stay that way until Jakotsu returned.

Kagome made her way down the stairs slowly, keeping one hand braced against the wall to guide her. The landing was empty of its noisey bucket, and she finally allowed herself to look at the dungeon beyond her.

Before her was the large cell where she’d seen Jakotsu. Now, however, she could see the smaller walkway to its left, the wall lined with the bars of empty cells. In the corner to her left stood a torture rack, its wooden table covered in old blood. Next to it sat a rusted bucket, but for her own peace of mind she wouldn’t try to see what was inside.

Her attention was drawn forward to the large cell when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Nerves slowed her, but she would not be deterred.

“Hello?”

She waited, but there was no response. Swallowing thickly, she moved closer to peer inside.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

“You shouldn’t be here.“

Kagome jumped and her steps paused, unsure now of her approach.

He sighed. “If you stay here, he’ll find you. You don’t want him too.”

“Jakotsu.“ Her eyes went to the floor, fingers curling in a fist over her heart.

“You know who he is.“ The other didn’t sound surprised. “If you know him, then you know what he’s capable of. He’ll do more than hurt you, especially since you’re a woman.“

“No, he won’t.“ The other shifted, and she imagined he was looking through stone to see her. “He knows he’s not allowed to hurt me.”

He scoffed. “You really expect that to stop him?”

“It’s what’s always stopped him.” Her voice grew quiet. “He takes it out on others instead.“

There was a low snarl. “Then what the hell are you doing down here?“

“I… I knew he kept someone down here. I was worried.“

The man snorted. “Just another secret in stone. And this castle’s secrets are better left uncovered.“ His voice was bitter. “Trust me. You can’t help anyone who lives here by finding them out.“

Curious, she stepped forward. “How do you know that?“

“This isn’t exactly my first day here.“ There was a shuffle of noise, chains clanking as the figure moved. “You should get out of here. Before he finds you.“

“He won’t find me. He’s not here.” Cautiously, she stepped forward. She could just make out the edge of an arm behind the bars. ”My father took him on his hunt.“

“Your father?” She could hear the frown, hear the clang of metal dragged on the stone floor. “Whose your father?“

Instinct told her not to tell him. To give a stranger an edge over her was dangerous, foolhardy.

“Lord Onigumo. My father is Lord Onigumo.“

The stranger behind the bars moved, and now she could see all of him in the flickering torchlight. He had eyes like amber and long silver hair, matted with dirt and blood. Ears, canine ears, drooped atop his head.

But he looked emaciated. His skin was covered in badly healed scars; it clung to his bones, making him look like a walking skeleton. It made her sick to think of.

“How old are you?“

She had to swallow hard before she could answer him. “I’ll be one and twenty this year.“

He looked behind her to the stairs, tracing their path. She followed his gaze for a moment and turned back to him. “If you can tell me where the key is, I’ll release you.“

His eyes flew back to her in surprise.

She gave him a nervous smile. “No one deserves to be trapped here. If I can free you, I will.”

He was quiet, searching her expression for any sign of deceit. His shoulders relaxed when he found none. “I believe you. But you can’t help me. Jakotsu keeps the key with him at all times.“

“… I see.” Her eyes fell to the ground, fingers clutching at the skirt of her dress. “I’m sorry.“

“Don’t be.” He tilted his head, watching her curiously. “You said Naraku was your father?“

“I don’t know a Naraku. My father is Onigumo.”

“Naraku, Onigumo. Same guy, different name.“ He moved closer to the bars, bracing his arms against them. ”Your mother must be Kikyo.“

Kagome nodded, though her shoulder’s tightened at the mention of her mother. “Yes, she was. This winter will mark five years since she passed.“

The other shut his eyes, expression tight. “How did she die?“

“I… I don’t know.”

“You’re her daughter, how the hell could you not know?”

She swallowed. “I wasn’t permitted to know. They said… the healers said to know would give me undue stress. So I was never told.”

He scoffed. “Right. More like the bastard killed her and wanted it kept quiet. Didn’t want it getting out.” Amber eyes open, riddled with hearts-pain and an old anger. “The others can’t know. He’d be dead already if they did.”

“I…” His gaze met hers, but she carried on. “I know my father to be capable of many things, but… I do not think he killed her.”

Cracked lips bled as they lifted in a snarl. “You’d defend that bastard?”

Kagome shook her head. “No. I only remember his…. His obsession.” She swallowed. “Knowing that… I cannot think he would rid himself of her willingly. Nor by his choice.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly, leaning against the bars that separated them. “In the end… she’s still dead.”

Her words were a sympathetic whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His chains rattled, and his body sagged. “You didn’t do anything.”

Perhaps not. But her existence could not have made things any easier. “… did you know my mother well?”

He didn’t lift his head. “She was the only friend I ever had. My Uncle sent me to find her. But she wasn’t ready to leave yet, so I stayed. Naraku came not long after that.”

When she told me she didn’t want to get married… I told her I’d take her wherever she wanted to go. Even if it meant never returning to my home.” His voice cracked the longer he spoke.

“We planned to leave the night before her wedding. But someone found out, and I was taken prisoner. Naraku brought me to her. He told her if she didn’t go through with the marriage he’d kill me then and there.”

He scowled. “It wasn’t an idle threat. The men he employed shouldn’t have been able to hold me, but they could. Kikyo knew that, and if they could hold me… well.” He shook his head. “Even if she’d let him do it, she couldn’t escape on her own. So she agreed. Naraku called for a priest and had the marriage performed that night.” Something dark took hold of him, though she could not see it.

“The bastard made me watch him consummate the marriage.”

Kagome bit her lip, her grip tightening on the basket even as she stepped forward. Her pale hand covered his. “You loved her.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. And you said she died, so… at least she’s free of him now.”

“Yes. There is that.”

He finally lifted his head and met her eyes. An ear flicked curiously atop his head, his nose quivering as he inhaled. “You smell like her. Only a little though. It’s nice.”

She finally cracked a smile, amused despite herself. “Thank you, I think.”

“It’s not a bad thing.” He nodded at the basket in her hand that he’d ignored until then. “What’s that for?”

“Oh!” She’d almost forgotten why she’d come down here in the first place. “It’s food. I brought it down for you. With Jakotsu gone, I was worried there was no one to look after you.”

Amber eyes were wide with surprise. “You… brought that for me? What for?”

Kagome looked at him curiously. “So you would have something to eat. I wasn’t sure who knew about your presence here, or if anyone did for that matter. So I thought…”

“I don’t…” he shook his head, swallowing thickly though his eyes never left it. “You didn’t have to do that. Starvation won’t kill me. Just makes things difficult.”

“That’s no reason for you to go hungry,” she said firmly. “If anything, it just means you should eat more.”

He snorted, lips quirking in an awkward smile. “What’s your name, princess?”

“I’m Kagome. What’s yours?”

“Inuyasha.”

#kogkag #bankag #onikag #inuyasha #btd chapter #flowers desecrate series #beneath the darkness

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fivesevenseveneight · 4 years

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Second Chances: Part 6

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Word Count: 1470

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Characters: nonbinary!Deceit (referred to as Dee because I started this before the name reveal and I don’t want to change it), Alastor (OC), Carl (OC), Virgil is mentioned but not by name

Pairings: eventual anxceitmus

Warnings: Dee gets a snake, food mention, toxic relationship

A/n: I still do not know how to do a read more on mobile, so if anyone does please tell me. Please let me know if I need to tag something or if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist. @iosonnounpanne thanks for reviewing this for me!

Dee loved snakes. They had loved snakes ever since they learned what the little yellow creature on their palm was, and for their whole life, they’d dreamed of having one. They had researched everything that they would need to have and do to take care of a snake, and they’d been planning on getting one soon after starting law school. But then they met Alastor, life got complicated, and two-and-a-half years passed with still no snake.

Hopefully though, that would change soon. Dee had slowly been building up the courage to ask Alastor about getting a snake. It was a delicate process. If they asked at the wrong time, or caught him off-guard, or gave him any rational reason to say no, he would, and the topic would be closed for discussion forever. Plus, there was a pretty good chance of him yelling in any of those scenarios. So, Dee had been casually mentioning snakes and the idea of getting a pet, and Alastor seemed fine with both. But they had yet to actually ask him.

Today, Dee thought, their heart pounding. Today is the day I’m going to ask.

Alastor hadn’t slammed the door when he got home from work, he didn’t yell at Dee for forgetting to do the laundry, and he even hummed while Dee made dinner, which he only did when he was in a good mood. Dee had been waiting a long time for such a perfect opportunity, and they were not going to waste it. Not again.

Dee cleared their throat and looked meaningfully at Alastor, who was sitting at the opposite side of the dinner table. He swallowed the bite of food he’d taken and looked up at Dee.

“Do you need something?” he asked.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Dee said, ignoring every instinct that screamed at them to be quiet. “I was thinking about getting a snake. I’ve been interested in getting one for a long time, and I know that—well, you’ve mentioned before that you like snakes, too. Besides, our soulmark is a snake, and I think it would be… fitting.” They held up their right hand and let out a tiny, nervous laugh.

Alastor went quiet for a moment, and Dee added quickly, “I’ve done a lot of research. I know exactly what I need, and I’ve saved up enough money for all the supplies. You wouldn’t have to pay for or do anything.”

After a nerve-racking pause, Alastor finally answered. “Fine. As long as you take care of it.”

Dee felt weak with relief. They thanked him, promising that they would work everything out. Then they asked Alastor how his day was, and listened to him rant about an annoying coworker until long after the neighbors had fallen asleep.

***

The harsh fluorescent lighting in the pet store hurt Dee’s eyes, but they couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful brown snakes in a tank on the wall.

“Ball pythons,” said an employee, walking up to Dee.

“I know,” Dee said, not looking away.

The employee stood there awkwardly, waiting to see if Dee would say anything more. They didn’t.

“Can I help you?” the employee finally asked.

Dee sighed to themself, reluctant to tear their eyes away from the gorgeous little snakes, and looked over at the employee, who wore a name tag that read: Carl (he/him).

“I’m not the usual reptile guy,” the employee, Carl, added quickly. “He’s out today, so I’m filling in.”

“I’m looking for a snake.”

Carl smiled. “Well, you came to the right place.” He opened up the tank with several baby ball pythons in it. “Is there a specific one you want?”

Dee looked over the small snakes curled up in various places and positions around the tank. It was hard to pick one; they all looked so perfect. Then, their eyes locked on a smallish-looking half-albino in the back. “That one,” said Dee, pointing. “In the corner.”

Carl grabbed a tiny cardboard box with small holes punched into it and carefully swept up the snake, placing it gently in the container.

Dee picked out the rest of the supplies they needed, signed a few forms, and went home. When they were sure that everything had been set up properly, they—very slowly and delicately—placed their new reptilian companion in the tank that stretched across a cleared-off spot on their dresser. The snake stayed still for a moment, then began slithering tentatively around the tank. Dee crouched down to watch the snake at eye level.

“I think I’ll call you Dante,” they said. “You look like a Dante.”

Dante flicked out their tongue.

Dee couldn’t help but giggle at that. “You’re a good listener aren’t you?”

Dante didn’t say anything (obviously).

Dee stood up. “I’m probably freaking you out now. I’m going to go for a run. You stay out of trouble, okay?”

Dante slithered under a rock.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

After checking one more time to make sure that everything in the tank was in order, Dee grabbed their jacket and went outside. The air was crisp and cool—perfect for an afternoon jog. The sky was gray and full of clouds. There were a few people walking around, mostly in pairs (presumably soulmates). They seemed to be taking advantage of the calm spring weather, just like Dee was.

Dee put in their earbuds and sighed, relaxing and letting the rhythm of their music envelop them. The whole world seemed to slow and shift so that all the fears and worries surrounding them went just out of focus. Dee loved it. It was like being underwater, except they could breathe fine. It let them clear their mind and gave them the space to think, whereas every other part of their life seemed crowded and smothered by people or expectations or some looming threat that wasn’t quite clear to them yet.

(Jogging was actually a suggestion from Dee’s therapist. Dee had decided to go to therapy about a year ago and admittedly, it had been helping. Although, Dee still couldn’t quite figure out how to tell Alastor that they were going to therapy. They just called it their “Monday night yoga class” and he didn’t question it, thankfully.)

Dee let themself slip into a trance of being relaxed yet alert, and jogged around the city, casually noting the things they saw. There was the pawn shop, and the large, grungy Going out of business! sign adorning its front window. There was the bookstore, and the pet store, and the tattoo parlor. Eventually, Dee reaches the park (where someone was walking a very large dog), and next to it, the cemetery.

Going by the cemetery always made Dee a bit nervous. They wouldn’t say that they were superstitious, but hey, you could never be too careful, right? Most days, the cemetery was empty; but today, there was one person there, standing near a tall, solitary oak tree. They were wearing a black hoodie and seemed to have purple hair (although, at this distance, Dee couldn’t be sure). It almost looked like they were talking.

Dee shook their head and refocused on their course. Whoever was at the cemetery, whatever their purpose was for being there, it didn’t matter, at least not to Dee.

Finally, after hints of indigo had begun to creep into the sky, Dee arrived at home. They took off their jacket and removed their earbuds, panting softly. They walked into their bedroom and checked on Dante, who was now curled up in the back corner of the tank. Dee set a hand on the dresser, careful not to shake the tank and startle Dante.

“How’s it going, buddy? You seem to be getting settled in nicely,” Dee said. “Just wait till my soulmate gets here. You’ll love him. I do.” Dee smiled. “I do,” they repeated to no one.

If anyone had asked, Dee would have happily shared that the reason they chose Dante was because of the pattern of scales on their head. The half-albino effect made their head entirely white—except for a large patch of brown on the left side of their snout. It was beautiful, like it had been painted on by an expert artist. It reminded Dee of the birthmark on their own face.

It looks beautiful on Dante. Maybe it looks beautiful on me, too. Dee gently traced the curves of the serpent on their palm, still watching Dante.

Slam! Dee flinched at the sudden, sharp noise of the front door shutting.

“Look who’s home,” Dee said softly.

He slammed the door harder than he needed to, Dee noted. He must’ve had a bad day. Again.

Dee slipped out of the room and headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner, bracing themself for another long tirade from Alastor. He did not disappoint.

(Taglist: @sociallyanxious-1 @someone-idk-is-here @the-melody-of-eliza @froggols @deadeyedustin @sympathetic-deceit-trash @surleytemple @entitydark @sadgayisme )

#sanders sides #fan fic #sanders sides fanfiction #nonbinary!deceit #nonbinary!janus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #ts deceit #ts janus #anxceitmus #sanders sides au #soulmate au #sanders sides soulmate au #my writing #my post

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

Two Sides of the Coin (8)

Chapter 8: Hazy Clairvoyance | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also tagging @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Part 7 | Next: Part 9 | Masterlist

8 of ?

The afternoon turned into dusk, deep indigo had begun to eat away at the golden shine of the sunset in the sky. The farmers and vendors gathered their harvest to be put away, and then be put back on display for tomorrow. Jidné saw the sun sink behind the mountain ridges and the treelines.

Eventually, they had to go their separate ways that day as dusk was beginning to fall upon Ombari.

“You staying in a lodge?”

“No, I have my ship but it’s in the outskirts—the badlands, they call it,”

“Quite far from where we are. A little dangerous too, animals might jump on you again like last time,”

Cal’s got a point and Jidné didn’t argue with that. She had spotted some relatively larger predators—deadlier than a pack of Bashiji cats—when she landed the Scarab on the badlands. Initially, she thought she could sneak past those creatures if they came close to her ship, albeit she’s hidden it quite well from their sights.

“Don’t worry, Cal, I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” chuckled Jidné.

“I don’t doubt that,”

“Well, if neither of us want to be dinner for the animals out there, best we mosey on over,”

She scrambled back up to her feet, Cal followed suit shortly after. Jidné went a couple of paces away from Cal to stretch her legs and bask in the remaining sunlight before night falls.

“I guess we’ll see each other again?”

She turned around to face him while answering, “Depends, if you’ve managed to bring the trouble with you to me.”

He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. The sunset’s gradient did him a favor of concealing the burning of his cheeks, but that didn’t escape Jidné’s eagle eyes. An exchange of hushed goodbyes transpired before they parted ways; Cal headed back to the town—going through it would bring him to the other side where he came in, where the Mantis would be—and Jidné would navigate her way to the badlands, returning to the confines of the Crescent Scarab.

Jidné jogged through the forest, stalking and crouching behind the shrubs to shield herself from wandering animals. She climbed over the ridge and the badlands were already in the horizon. She slip down the slope with great care, skidding her boots as brakes while patrolling predators circled their turfs—hissing and roaring at anything that comes close. In the distance, she spots the trench were she had hidden the Scarab, she hoped that nothing or no one has assumed it was abandoned and shredded it to pieces.

“There you are, old girl,” Jidné cooed, relieved to find her metal baby still sitting in one piece.

Home sweet home.

She unwrapped her cowl and untied the jacket around her waist, dumping them on the vacant seat in the lounge area. Immediately, she went to the cramped room of a medical bay and rummaged the cabinets for Bacta. She returned to the lounge with a small vial of Bacta in hand, a pea-sized dollop was potent enough even for the gravest of injuries. A generous drop plopped on the tip of her finger and then rubbed it on the flesh wound on her shoulders.

“That should close by tomorrow,” she diagnosed.

A great sigh escaped Jidné’s lungs, the overall exhaustion for today had constricted her chest that her body realized just now that she’s truly safe. Her back slouched lazily against the leather cushion of the couch, the muscles around her joints eased—as if twisted rope had been loosed from a strenuous grip—and her heavy eyelids fell until darkness blanketed her eyesight.

Jidné…?

Her eyes shot up and her heart pounded a loud beat at the same time. At first, her eyes shifted left and right, searching the sound and assuming that she’s hearing things.

Jidné?

“That voice…”

“Come now, my little one…”

My little one.

She knows that pet name even if she heard it from a parsec away.

She straightened herself on her seat, looked around and saw that she was still inside her ship, ID-3 had put himself to a snooze mode atop the table; she listened for the faceless voice again, its origin was unclear for it echoed as it called her name, but the words were distinct. The voice beckoned her again, it was coming from the other side of the door that separated the lounge from the cockpit.

“Come now, little one.” The voice repeated.

Jidné could have sworn that the voice could be heard from the other side of the door. Her hand hovered over the door controls, she was hesitating when the silence followed the beckoning, but her eagerness prevailed. A touch of a button did nothing. Jidné pressed the button in five-second intervals for three times, when it didn’t do anything, she dared to look past her shoulder and found herself in a hallway not of her own ship.

Her heat stamped wildly through her chest that her breathing could not keep up. Shallow, rapid breathing was all her lungs could produce. In the farthest end of the hallway, the figure had its back turned but the long, twin tendrils dangled until their thighs—deep indigo patches intricately framed the white montral from top to the bottom.

“Master?”

Jidné clutched at her throat. The voice that uttered was her younger self’s. Her head was swirling as she tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Master, wait for me!” she strained her vocal chords in an attempt to regain the true sound of her voice.

“Don’t delay now, little one. Come, come.”

The figure was definitely the owner of that voice, but not once did it turn around to beckon her properly. Not even realizing it, Jidné’s own legs suddenly had a volition of their own, dragging the girl across the metal floor.

“I’m coming, I’m here…!” Jidné cracked, her younger persona taking over her adult body. “Wait for me, please! Master Anesh!”

The waking memory of Jidné’s master continued through a door that gaped open, as if waiting for Jidné to come; when she was halfway there, blaster fire whistled—and out of instinct, Jidné ducked as if to avoid them, but they’re part of the illusion—indistinct yet familiar voices of the clones shouting the order to fire rang ricocheted among the walls.

“Jidné, come on now,” Master Anesh beckoned again calmly, contrast to the situation that Jidné finds herself in.

The entire experience set Jidné’s body and mentality back to that fateful day years ago. All of her survival instincts were notched to the highest setting; though it wasn’t the graceful elusiveness that she usually uses for her bounty-hunting—it was the desperate, nerve-racking attempt to escape alive that heightens one’s senses. She didn’t realize that tears had begun to well up and dribble down her cheeks, her throat ran dry from the shallow, rapid breathing, and her stomach churned in complete fear.

“MASTER, TAKE COVER!!” shrieked Jidné, it was more of an impulse than a voluntary utterance; her body and consciousness are reliving that horrifying, life-changing scenario.

She continued to run with her back crouched low as the mirage blasters continue to whistle and fire behind her ears. She glances at the sight in front of her, the figure of Master Anesh—back still turned against her—remained sage and stood there idly, without a care in the world.

Jidné threw her entire self to the door, successfully passing through, and rejoining Master Anesh. Quickly, the girl pulled herself back up on her feet; by the time that she did, her master had gone farther from her—so close, yet so far. She forgave that, she just wanted to get closer to the Togruta.

“Jidné…” beckoned the voice once more, somberly.

The young girl finally caught up to her master. Master Anesh stood taller than Jidné remembered, when she hoisted her hand towards the Togruta’s back, she hesitated and jerked it back—discovering that in this illusion, she had taken over the form of her younger self: a Padawan, a child who still had a lot of ways to learn.

“Have you forgotten what I taught you?” Master Anesh’s voice sounded stricter, as if dismayed at the little child that stood in front of her.

The girl shakes her head fervently, “No, of course not!”

“You’re troubled, Jidné. Don’t you remember what I keep telling you?”

“The Force is in its strongest in one’s emotions and instincts; it resonates with the clearest eyes of the mind,” Jidné recited, surprised at herself that she still remembers it word for word. She jerked her head up to face her master, in search of affirmation from the kindly-faced Togruta.

“Master… I…”

Before Jidné could even finish, tremors ravaged the floor beneath her feet, the lights that paneled the walls flickered until they died, and the beams above their heads were giving away… the entire hallway collapsed—along with Master Anesh standing in it!

“MASTER, NO!!!”

The devastation was so surreal that Jidné felt like she was going to die there. She felt like falling to a deep, ceaseless abyss as her surroundings fully reduced to nothing.

She gasped and sat back up again, only this time in a cold sweat. Her exclamation woke ID-3 from his snooze mode, his tentacles popped out partially and turned into little feet, he stepped to the edge of the table close to Jidné as he asked her well-being.

“Yeah… I’m okay, ID…” she heaved. “Just a bad dream…”

“Woooo…” ID-3 points out the tears staining Jidné’s face. “Beep, trill?”

Jidné wiped her tears with her arm. Her mind was still spewing sparks as it tried to register everything that transpired. She propped her elbows on her knees, her fingers raking through her hair, coaching herself to breathe slower and more relaxed as she realizes that she’s back in reality.

ID-3 hopped from the table to the couch, he tried to squeeze himself into the space behind Jidné’s arms—as if like a pet animal would—and beeped a soft, slow moan of a note. He occupied the entirety of Jidné’s laps, she weakly giggle and wrapped the little disc of a droid in her arms.

“Thanks, ID, I’m really glad you’re here,”

She pulls him in closer to a hug, planting her cheek against the cold dome top of his head. Two of ID’s arms extended and wrapped around her forearms, embracing her back—one of his pincers even patted her to comfort her.

“You’re such a sweet droid, I don’t remember putting an affection chip in your motherboard,” Jidné joked through a sniffle.

When Jidné regained her bearings, she attempted to meditate tonight. It was a slow progress, but she acknowledged every little change she noticed throughout the phase. She stands up from the couch and settled herself on the floor right beside the table.

Legs crossed together, hands on the knees, and an erect back.

Deep breaths.

Closed eyes.

A sharp focus within a calm, sound mind.

Breathe, Jidné.

To her, she bared everything to the Force—she allowed its flow take over her bloodstreams, its energy rippling its current underneath her skin—her fingers trembled, her nails sank through the fabric of her pants until the flesh of her knees, she has latched onto the Force but she’s struggling to get a hold on it.

Her heart leapt when she felt a soothing sensation blanket her—it was warm and cold at the same time, but still comforting—and then her subconscious reached out as far as the rich expanse of Ombari’s wilderness: the lush green of the trees, the harsh heat in the blood-orange desert, the azure sheen of the waters, the life that resided in all of those things from the largest predator down to the tiniest insect burrowed underneath the soil.

An involuntary smile twitched and curled at the corner of her lip. What a relief, Jidné thought, she had yearned for this kind of result for a long time—and she savored every moment of it. Gradually, the Force allowed her to see beyond the life on the planet. The darkness was replaced with a blurry golden light behind her eyes, hushed and incoherent sounds whispered in her ears, and she’s started to feel sensations—firm yet gentle grips, the natural warmth of one’s skin, the feeling of having one’s eyes gazing fondly at her, and the utterance of her name of a yet-incoherent voice.

With her subconscious, she tried to reach out for the origin—she wanted more of it, thus she allowed herself to be a bit greedy.

“What are you…?” she uttered in a whisper, taking a step closer.

Upon touching the source, dark nothingness returned and befell her eyesight. Her neediness had become her undoing; that soft, warm, comforting feeling disappeared as easily as ash lost in the sand.

Like terrors in the night, nightmarish images rear their ugly heads right in front of her face: agonizing cries of pain, the wild crack of lightning, the sound of a body thudding harshly against the hard ground…

And the foreboding sound of a rhythmic, robotic breathing.

It all felt real, even though Jidné knew that it’s not her who is—or perhaps, will not—experiencing these things.

“Make it stop…!” she yelped, unable to open her eyes and free herself from this trance that’s ensnared her, begging to a non-existent tormentor.

Hissing breaths entered and then left her through the hairline-thin gaps between her teeth, her eyebrows pulled together and her head slightly thrashed—fighting it off while her concentration gradually ebbed. The intensity spilled its way out of her; the interior of the Scarab rumbled, the trinkets and decorations that lined the shelves of the lounge room clattered and shuddered at the whim of Jidné’s Force energy.

“Beeee!” ID-3 lowed in surprise, panicked and unable to do anything except watch his owner lose herself in the trance.

Finally, the glue that kept Jidné’s eyelids shut was gone. The shuddering around her ship vanished as well. Jidné tried to regain her bearings, her eyes surveyed everything around her—she’s still in the ship. She melted to the floor and let all of those emotions and feelings sink into her from the vision of Master Anesh appearing before her until that scenario of her witnessing a torturing that wasn’t hers.

“Beeep, chirp?”

“Yeah, I’m okay… I’m okay, ID-3…” she panted. She rubbed her entire face, massaging the muscles of her cheeks and forehead. “How stupid of me to meditate when I’m exhausted… So much for trying to fix myself. Damn, what a long day.”

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applekitty · 4 years

Text

things that happened with me in the past 7 years

i feel guilty so i want to post this. it’s basically a confession post abt stuff i’ve done, stuff that’s happened to me, and general rumination on how my actions have affected people.

transparency is the thing i value most, and now that i’m comfortable to share with you guys my age, i think it’s important i share these things too.

keep in mind my memory’s a little foggy on dates so i can mostly only give approximations

content warning for MANY mentions of rape, grooming, mlp porn, and one passing mention on transphobic genderbend content. also idk if counts as it or not but just to be safe??? csa, bc it happened when i was a kid

there’s a tl;dr at the end, please at the very least read that before sending me any asks about this post

i got my iphone 4s when i was late into being 12 years old, in preparation for 7th grade. my mom thought it was time for me to get a phone so she could text me if she needed to. so, i got a way to access social media. by the time grade 7 had begun, i’d gotten this thing called ‘virtual space’. you may better know this as ‘amino’ nowadays. but back in the day, there was only one. virtual space.

virtual space (2012-2013/14?)

this was an rp media app with the ability to add posts and add pictures. i didnt know about tumblr or really anything outside of facebook at the time, so virtual space was my main social media. i only have one person who i still talk to from my times in virtual space, and i think it’s safe to say both of us do not want to remember our time there.

virtual space was a very toxic place to be, and i was one of the most toxic people on there. i was very much an elitist, a grammar nazi, and all the worst of the worst. i was very snooty and very much up my own ass. i traced art, i pretended to be a scholar.

i was nice enough to some people, but all in all, i saw myself as superior because i was ‘literate’ and others were ‘illiterate’. people who were unable to spell or write out long paragraphs like i was were seen as lesser by me, and i considered virtual space a place to assert my authority as the best writer. thanks to virtual space, i had dedicated myself to learning words, improving my writing ability, and dressing up my things with such elaborate purple prose that it’d make future me snore and die.

i did a ton of regrettable things (such as pretending i was a guy who’d gotten into a car accident purely for attention) while i was on my superiority spree.

there, on virtual space, i found out about my little pony. the first thing i ever saw from the show was the flim flam brothers song. and i loved it. so i got into mlp, starting rping in mlp things alongside the normal fandomless things.

on virtual space, people would often rip things off tumblr to put into vs. this is where i learned of tumblr. i moved off of vs and moved onto tumblr. subsequently, it’s also where i got fully into mlp.

tumblr (2013-now)

on tumblr there’s not much i can’t say that isn’t talked about in the below parts. i do want to say, though, that there was a time in my life wherein i was following and reblogging rebornica content. they reblogged some.. questionable things that i think contributed to the below stuff. just slightly, but not a bunch. btw if you do go into there you may see some of the stuff rebornica reblogged, including a thing about genderbends? know that this is my opinion on genderbends lol

mlp (2012-2015)

when i first got into mlp, it was before the season 3 premiere. during that time, i was still on vs, but i switched over to tumblr i believe after the announcements and trailers for rainbow rocks came out.

mlp ask blogs were very nice on the surface, but things like ask molestia, or ask discord whooves quickly were put into my youtube recommends. they were some of the most popular ask blogs, things that got praised; humiliation, rape, and molestation. those are the things that got you follows, those are the things that got you popular. i wanted to be popular. i was popular on vs, so i want to be here too.

if you know anything about the mlp community, there’s a reason why for that. porn is incredibly saturated in mlp, and there is a lot of rape content permeating the internet. if you need proof, just go ahead and find out what ‘fall of equestria’ is. that’s a popular au. and it’s no secret that rape is all over places like fimfiction.

~lewd mlp comic dubs~ in general were on youtube as well. they weren’t as much as a contributing factor, but their simple BEING THERE normalized the concept of ‘lewd being acceptable and beneficial for me to benefit off of’ into my mind. it was a gateway into what would further come.

mlp was my first introduction to explicit content. i was 12. it was untagged.

i opened up a multitude of ask blogs before i settled on my longest; ask shy sombra. this blog was trying to claim the fame of a inactive blog called asksissysombra. sissy sombra was an explicitly nsfw blog with rape fetishization. the blog is still up and not hidden by tumblr’s nsfw detector, nor deleted. it regularly clocked 200 notes a post.

ask shy sombra was exactly like asksissysombra, though much more tame. the rape fetishization was used in such a way where it was entirely offscreen, and fairly vague. though, with specific follower milestones, i would draw semi-lewd drawings hinting at rape, and get notes for it. thankfully, the blog didn’t get far enough into its plot (as i restarted it a total of four times) to get to the parts wherein rape was around. i made ask shy sombra when i was.. i know in eighth grade. i think a little late into eighth grade. so i’d be 14.

ask shy sombra was my most popular blog, and garnered me about 1.5k followers over a 2(?) year run. this only encouraged me to produce more content. to get more followers. naturally, this fostered in my literal child brain that this disgusting content is a good thing to make because look at all the rewards its giving me.

i would draw a lot of things purely for the edge on this ask shy sombra, and treat serious topics like things to shock people. i was surrounded by people who’d praise me and draw fanart for me. i was collecting a fanbase by making extraordinarily shitty content. wasn’t even well drawn either, lol.

i was drawing all this because i felt like i was mature and edgy for doing so, that by being dark i was better than others, that i had more substance, and that people would take me seriously.

after a while, i made myself a nsfw blog. lots of other mlp ask blogs, aka basically all of them, had nsfw blogs. so, i got myself one. i produced almost exclusively rape content, both drawings and writings. i wanted to be even more edgy, and this was a place i could do it raw, uncensored. i could unleash true horror here, on a nsfw blog. it was so shocking, so awful! isn’t that what the mlp fandom is about? being twisted and fucked up and evil on sideblogs, making awful content to go ‘ooh how edgy’ at? nothing was barred. i was 14, maybe early into 15.

i knew (aka followed, because there was a whole underground mlp nsfw community) other people, who were significantly older, for their rape content as well. and there were lots of people to choose from. one i remember (even by url) drew horrifying depictions of rape in a painterly style. there were two others i remember the style of, but not the names. these three were my introduction to guro, which thankfully i did not indulge in.

i wasn’t very active on my nsfw blog, at least. when i was, i was only there in bursts and never made anything too bad if i can remember right. most of it was just.. lewd faces or whatever. my art wasn’t good enough to get lots of reblogs in the porn sphere, thank GOD. i mass-deleted the content on that blog three times before i deleted the blog itself and never tried again. i never did like that nsfw blog.

unrelated, but i think the reason why rape as a concept in the mlp fandom is so wide spread, is because the fandom had mass produced it as a replacement for rough sex. it was just a more ‘erotic’ version of rough sex to them. a more intense version of sex, wherein tears and screams to stop were actually just lies, these creatures secretly were pleasured.

and, for people like me, it’s a good way to be the edgiest kid on the block. the more edgy you were in mlp, the more followers you were bound to get. the more attention you got. and it worked. i got so much attention.

on christmas of 2015, i stepped away from mlp for good.

in 2016, i deleted everything on ask shy sombra, (except for the follower milestones), and moved on.

psmd (2015-2017)

psmd was my new target. psmd was a lot more quiet. i hadn’t done much with psmd in comparison to mlp, as i kept most of my explicit content private. however, as some of my mutuals back in psmd would tell you, rape was not a thing i strayed from talking about here either.

leftovers from my time in mlp, sure enough, rape was in psmd as well. thankfully, it was not public, with only a select few having access to it. no one reprimanded me for it. i don’t blame them for not scolding me. what are you supposed to do to something like that? it’s nerve racking and disgusting and you just want to side-eye it and leave it alone. especially since i was most of these people’s friends.

‘private’ is a hard word to call the rape content i made for that one. because psmd’s fandom was very very, very small. there was one specific server for it with like. 15 people at most on it at one time. either way, i was making rape content for the same reason; to be the edgiest kid on the block. if you knew anything about my extraordinarily edgy psmd au, you’ll know i went all out on edge. just like with ask shy sombra, the attention-seeking for the au and the desire to get eyes on content went to the worst bottom denominator. it never went to children or whatever, though.

making rape content actually wasn’t the main thing bad i did while in that fandom, no. mostly bc it was all decently private.

i was in the pokemon ask blog community for a short while. while i was there, i was an elitist and sort of a snob. i projected my insecurity onto the bigger blogs around me, simply because i wasn’t getting the attention i thought i deserved. in mlp, it was so easy to get followers. here? not so much. i wasn’t happy about people ‘suddenly ignoring me’, so i lashed out at the community.

people who were just having fun for the sake of having fun, i didn’t like those guys! nuh uh! anyways, i sealed myself off to my small community of psmd people until i eventually decided to leave psmd for kirby in the summer of 2017. that was when i’d watched the original pilot for the kirby anime.

kirby (late 2017-now)

kirby is currently the fandom i’m in. thanks to me squishing myself into the box of ‘make this worthy of being shown on 4kids as content’, i have solidified my content. though some of it, such as my old galacta work, zero percent chill, are a little eh and show remnants of who i once was.

i’ve had a rocky transition period, however, and some individuals can attest to that, unfortunately.

i’m glad i’ve been able to try to cope with my fandom-inflicted grooming. certain events and people have gotten me to really think about morality and my actions in the past, as well as about writing and the things they may teach people.

conclusion

amino taught me that being popular and the best was the most important thing.

mlp taught me creating rape content was not only okay to produce in the most shock-factory way, but it got you popular, which is all i wanted in my 13 year old brain.

psmd taught me that people will not object to rape content— but they will pretend you and your edgy bullshit doesn’t exist. certain things are excluded from that, like one particular fic. while it’s gone now, it did exist. people knew it existed.

kirby taught me to sit down, shut the fuck up, and stop that shit. no one sat me down for it, i did it myself.

getting a few more years on me helped, lol

everyday im super duper thankful i was never groomed further past that into making incest or making pedophilic content. i’m also thankful that i got out of mlp. that my content never got truly popular in psmd. i’m thankful my grooming never got taken advantage of by any specific, older individual. i’m thankful my grooming wasn’t directly from an actual person who could’ve gotten me deeper into the mindset, wherein it’d be harder for me to get out of it.

my actions in mlp and psmd have undoubtably groomed people in the process, and for that, i’ll be eternally sorry. if you knew me during that time, with my shitty edgy-for-attention aus, sorry.

tl;dr:

when i was in the mlp fandom, i wanted to be popular and quick. i noted the most easy way to get popular, get comic dubs, get that Cool Praise, was to be edgy. and, ontop of that, one can also add in a layer of sexual assault for extra Brony Praise.

i didn’t stop to think of why things like rape or sexual assault was so massed produced in the fandom, and i don’t think i cared either. i knew rape was bad and a disgusting and terrible act and it scared me thinking about it happening to me (because im a girl lmao), so i’d write it up as a hyper-angsty thing. oohh the angst, oh how sad, look at how horrible it is, this totally isn’t stroking a huuuugeee unnecessary angstboner for a EXTRAORDINARILY delicate REAL WORLD topic at all!! totally not disrespectful to ACTUAL VICTIMS at all!!!! not that it mattered how it was written up, certain people in the fandom liked it more when things were horrible, awful, and disgustingly violent or ‘egregiously angsty’ in regards to rape. rape and its ‘angsty’ content was normalized to me when, at bare minimum, i was 13.

i ended up making rape-related extremely edgy content in the mlp fandom and i got a lot of followers. 1.5k followers. i used the shock of offscreen rape as a way to.. well, shock people. and make a horrifying story that i wanted attention towards. the praise I got for being edgy and making rape content groomed me into creating more. being groomed by no one inparticular into making this content, but by a fandom, by the sheer amount of rape content and general porn being paraded around, that really fucked me up.

when i was 15 (going on 16 in half a year), i transferred this mentality into other fandoms, trying to be the most edgy and shocking by using the actions of rape and sexual violence or even sexual trafficking as my vehicle of angst without thinking of what the writing of these subjects in such a way may say about me as a person. i didn’t care about that, i wanted to be the darkest, most edgy, most brooding. and I was, and I got mad when I didn’t get the 1.5k followers worth of attention that the mlp fandom was so willing to give me.

when i was 17, i transferred to kirby. and that’s when i realized all this edge-for-the-sake-of-edge bullshit needed to stop. i’d almost taken my extreme edge to kirby as well, but i doubled down on myself and quit that shit. thank god that i did that. i strickened myself to write g-related content with only minor, more moderate amounts of edge.

i’m now 20. i’m hypercritical of people who do the same things i did when i was younger, because hyperedge shit like the stuff i created makes me feel disgusting thinking back on it. i know i most likely groomed people into doing the exact same shit that i’d done with my presence, especially in the mlp fandom. and for everything i did, all the extremely insensitive content i made when i was younger, sorry.

i wanted to be transparent about this, and it’s important to me to be so. cards out on the table and such. if you feel uncomfortable about this new info and the things i did to get attention when i was younger, that’s completely understandable. feel free to unfollow / block me if that makes you more comfortable on this platform, even if we’re mutuals or friends.

#feels bad man #important #im probably asleep rn (this post is scheduled) so if you wanna send asks or dms about this i'll answer them in a bit lol #this is very much a confession post. i want to get all this shit off my chest #theese is. my experiences. my actions #my anxiety says i NEED to talk about this and confess all of this so thats what im doing

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nxnoire · 5 years

Text

Desiderium

Leave Me Alone

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Part Two Part Three Part Five

my fourth prompt for @badthingshappenbingo

———

The lunch bell echoed throughout the classroom, a sound Adrien didn’t want to hear. Lunch only meant others had the freedom to come over to him and bombard with questions he wasn’t ready to answer. He knew they had good intentions, but all he needed was to be left alone. Marinette was the only one he felt comfortable sharing his story with.

He looked across the table to see Marinette and Alya engaged in a lively conversation. Below him, Nino had his headphones on, trying to figure out which song to listen to. Everyone seemed to be doing better things than save him from the stares he felt on every inch of his body. He slumped down in his seat and prayed Marinette or Nino would hurry up.

“So...ready to tell me about this morning?” Alya asked, leaning in towards her friend.

“I told you, it’s not up to me.” She glanced over at Adrien briefly. “Whenever Adrien’s ready I’ll let him explain. Until then, leave me and him alone.”

“Awww, c’mon, girl! This is big news!”

“I’ll tell you this: we’re not dating.” She crossed her arms.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I told you, it’s not romantic.” She turned to face Adrien. “Adrien lets go.”

Adrien’s face lit up a bit, happy to finally be able to leave that suffocating classroom. He stood up and walked down the stairs. Before he was able to reach the bottom, Chloe jumped in front of him.

“Adrikins!” She exclaimed. Her arms shot up to wrap themselves around his neck, but he grabbed them before they could even touch him.

“Go away,” he ordered, staring her straight in the eye.

She pulled her arms away and pouted. “But—”

“Come on Chloe, leave him alone,” Marinette chimed in, coming to save Adrien. She walked over and stood next to him, hoping to get that horrid leech off of him. “You’re the last person he needs to be talking to.”

Chloe scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what makes you think you can just swoop in and help Adrien all of a sudden. Just because you think he’s hot doesn’t mean you have the right to manipulate his mind. Right, Adrikins?”

He shot her a cold death glare. Her nonsense was so unbearable that it hurt. All of his patience had evaporated with the joy he once had. There was so much cluttering his mind. Chloe did not need to be added to the mix.

Not moving his glare off of Chloe, he grabbed Marinette’s wrist and pulled her away from the angry blonde. He heard Chloe yelling at them but happily chose to ignore her. Once they left her sight, he let go of her. “Thanks for standing up for me back there.”

“Oh, uh, you’re w-welcome!” She smiled, happy to have helped him even if it was just a little bit. It wasn’t only helping him, though. Putting Chloe in her place benefited everyone. Recently, she had become unbearable, making everyone’s lives even more miserable. It felt nice to be able to talk back to her for once.

The teens walked outside, both caught up in their thoughts. A news crew ran for them, not even letting them get a nice breath of fresh air.

“As our suspicions confirmed, Adrien Agreste has been spotted at his school.” The reporter shoved the microphone in Adrien’s face. “Adrien, your father is worried sick about you.”

“Great,” he said coldly, backing away from the microphone.

“Shouldn’t you return home? Your father says—”

“I don’t give a damn about what that man says. He deserves to rot in hell.” He turned and began walking away, Marinette following.

The reporter was taken aback by his strong language. “We have your bodyguard and—”

“Leave him alone,” Marinette demanded. “He’s going through a lot right now, can’t you see? How would you feel if you were emotional and someone came rushing at you with a camera asking you questions?”

“Ma’am, are you the one sheltering him while he’s on the run?”

“It’s none of your business.” She continued to walk away with Adrien. Whatever good mood she had was crushed by the crazed reporter. Anger and annoyance bubbled inside her like magma getting ready to spew out of a volcano. She tried her hardest to calm herself down, trying to avoid potential akumatization. Taking a deep, calming breath, she leaned in towards Adrien. “Are you okay?”

He stopped walking, the crosswalk displaying a stop sign. “Yeah, I’m used to the paparazzi. They get on my nerves, though. Especially ones like her.”

Marinette hummed in thought, being unable to relate well. The only time she had a bad experience with cameras was when Jagged Stone came to her bakery to film a TV show. She couldn’t imagine feeling like she did back then all the time. The light turned green, so she stepped onto the street. “Let’s eat lunch at my house today. We need some peace and quiet after all that.”

“Okay,” Adrien said, void of emotion. He didn’t care where they went, as long as he wasn’t going to be bothered about the entire runaway situation. He’d be fine following the current for a while. Whatever happened, he didn’t care, so long as it didn’t evoke negative emotions. His mind was racing so fast he had no mental energy to deal with anything else but his internal struggles.

They walked into the apartment, its quietness hugging Adrien’s ears. It was what he needed: a private, quiet space where he wouldn’t be bothered by anyone, excluding Marinette, of course. She never annoyed him. In fact, she was the only person who seemed to actually care about him. She never pressed him for information, instead of respecting his sensitivity.

He watched her walk into the small kitchen and open the refrigerator. A small light flickered on inside his heart, destroying some of the dark and twisty negativity taking hold of him. For the first time, he felt something different towards her.

It was probably just him being happy that she was helping, he figured. He took a seat at the dining room table. As he thought, his eyes studied the wood patterns on the tabletop. Marinette was just a really good friend trying to help out a friend. He was feeling joy. That’s what it was. It was impossible for him to be in love with her. There was no way. He’d know if he was, right?

The thoughts came to a halt when a pale hand set a plate down in front of him. He blinked and shook his head lightly to break his thoughts. Marinette took a seat next to him, setting her own plate down in front of her. A soft smile curled on his lips. She truly cared about him. She was perhaps the only person who did. Happy to have chosen the right person to confide in, he took a bite out of his food.

Marinette also began eating her food. As she chewed, she felt anxious snakes slithering up her body. She knew she was forgetting something, she just couldn’t remember what it was. All of her homework was done. There weren’t any projects due that day. Deep in thought, trying to figure out what she had forgotten, she took another bite. Then, it came back to her: she had a lunchtime patrol that day. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t just leave Adrien alone. What would she say, anyway? “Hey I’m Paris’s superhero and I’ve gotta go make sure your father isn’t terrorizing our city!” Something told her it wouldn’t sit too well with him.

“I’m gonna try to go back to my house and get a few things,” Adrien announced, pulling her out of her wild thoughts.

She looked at him with wide eyes and swallowed her food. “How are you gonna get there unnoticed?”

“I have a way of sneaking into my room without being seen by the security cameras.”

“I should go with you, just to be safe.”

“No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t be too long, anyway.”

“Okay...” she sighed. They were in no condition to argue, especially Adrien. “Don’t do anything stupid. I promised I’d protect you with my life. I intend to keep that promise.”

He smiled, happy she remembered what she said last night. “Okay. I shouldn’t take too long.” Slowly, he stood up, stretching on the way. He waved goodbye and left the apartment, his heart beating abnormally quickly.

Marinette sighed in relief. Well, that makes things easier. I could even watch over him as Ladybug to make sure he’s safe!

She bounced up and grabbed both plates. Tikki flew out of her bag as Marinette danced over to the sink, humming happily.

“You seem really happy,” Tikki pointed out.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Adrien is basically living with me! This is the closest I’ve been with him...ever!” She turned on the warm water and grabbed the sponge lying next to the faucet.

“Well, I’m happy that you’re happy!” Tikki smiled. “But...don’t forget why he’s here in the first place.”

Marinette looked up at her kwami as she scrubbed the plates. “I know...it’s not safe anymore. We have to be on our toes 24/7.” She looked back down to set the clean plate on the drying rack. “If it means helping Adrien, I’d put my life on the line.” She placed the other clean plate next to the one already sitting in the drying rack. “Anyway, it’s time for our patrol. Tikki spots on!”

With a bright flash of light, she turned into Ladybug. She walked up to her rooftop balcony, ready for another boring patrol. Looking out over Paris, she searched for any nearby danger, none to be seen. Satisfied, she hooked her yo-yo on a rooftop far away and flew across the rooftops, looking for Adrien.

Adrien walked closer to his house. His heart pounded faster and faster with each step. He had to look around constantly to make sure nobody was following him. It wasn’t great, but it was a small price to pay for satisfaction. The mansion appeared in eyesight once he switched streets. It felt like bad karma being there. His senses were on ultra-sensitivity mode, every single change in atmosphere, every sound, every smell setting off alarms.

An akuma appeared in his vision as it flew over the gate protecting the large house. It sent his emergency systems haywire. He froze, watching it dance closer to him. Shaking his head, he ran back around the corner and let Plagg fly out of his pocket.

“Plagg claws out!” He said with almost no emotion. Once he was Chat Noir, he felt his body disconnect from Adrien’s problems ever so slightly. It was enough to make him feel more like himself.

He pulled out his staff and opened the phone. Quickly, he called Ladybug, hoping she’d pick up soon. Relief flooded his body when he heard her pick up. “What’s up, kitty?”

“Just spotted an akuma near the Agreste Mansion.”

She gasped. “Adrien...” she whispered.

“What about him?” Just as he said that it all clicked in his head. The akuma was out for him. His father was looking for him, and he had foolishly fallen into his trap. “M’Lady, come quickly,” he ordered just as the akuma entered the staff.

An extremely powerful evil entered his mind, enhancing all of his negative emotions. He stumbled, trying his hardest to resist the mind control.

“Chat Blanc,” Hawkmoth began, his voice appearing in his mind, “I am Hawkmoth, although I’m sure you know that already. I’m giving you the power to destroy everything that brings you pain. In return, you will get me Ladybug’s Miraculous and bring me yours along with it.”

Chat Noir shook his head. “No...I won’t listen to you,” he muttered, trying his hardest to stay sane. His back hit the wall behind him. The world turned dark, Hawkmoth’s face appearing in the void. It was the last face he wanted to see. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of his disgusting face, but it was there, too.

“If you successfully get me Ladybug’s Miraculous, I will let you destroy me too.”

“No...please...I don’t...want to hurt anyone...” He tried letting go of the staff, but it wouldn’t work. It was as if his hand was super-glued to it. Something in him was holding him back from dropping it. An emotion deep down that was subconsciously telling him there was no hope.

“Oh, you don’t have to hurt anyone. All you have to do is erase the things that remind you of all the pain you so desperately need to let go. Once you let go of all your pain, you won’t have to feel so horrible anymore.”

His eyes widened, the mind control finally taking hold of the last bits of sanity he had left. All of his sanity screamed as it was overtaken by the heavy influence of the akuma. “Yes, Hawkmoth,” he muttered mindlessly, Chat Noir no longer present.

Ladybug dropped her yo-yo, having heard every single word of Chat Noir’s struggle and Hawkmoth’s successful attempt to bring him to the dark side. The one person she entrusted her life with, the person she felt closest with, had been akumatized. He had been in pain and she hadn’t known about it. Hawkmoth knew and he happily took advantage of that. She cursed herself for not knowing his pain earlier.

She looked over at the Agreste Mansion, watching a white figure jump on its rooftop.

“Chat...” she muttered sadly, the reality of her newest enemy washing over her.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #miraculous fanfic #angst fic #bad things happen bingo #its 1:40am i need sleep :(

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une-femme-de-lettres · 5 years

Text

We Are Young (Part 1)

Summary: Grâce is a young witch that already prove herself to be an excellent student of Hogwarts. This year though, some things might change as her little sister, in turn, enters the school of wizardry.

Characters: Female!Original Character(s), Young!Sirius Black, Young!James Potter, Young!Remus Lupin

Parings: Female! OC x Young! Sirius Black

Word count: 1780

A/N: Hi there! So this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. I thought I’d never write it, or write again for that matter, but here we go, this fandom gave me the inspiration to get back into reading and writing. I’ll try and keep writing chapters as long as I can and I really hope you’ll enjoy this!

Another quick note before we begin, the name of the main character is Grâce (I spell it the French way) but it can is pronounced by most of the other characters like the name ‘Grace’. Let me know if you would like for me to get rid of the accent on the ‘â’ for reading comfort.

Let’s get started now!

*****

“But what if I’m not sorted into Ravenclaw, I will never see you again…”

Grâce took her bag off of the luggage rack and put it down on the padded seat before looking down to find her sister’s eyes. They were full of apprehension, her brain storming with bad thoughts, anticipating her sorting. It was her first year in Hogwarts and started preparing for it as soon as she got her letter, excited by the start of this new step of her life. That was until excitement was replaced with doubt and concern.

“Stop worrying so much, everything will be fine,” Grâce said, trying in vain to help her sister calm down, “Besides, we can still see each other even if we’re not in the same house,” she added, “we can meet at breakfast and lunch, and on breaks too…” she explained, pulling two long black robes out of the bag.

“But everyone in the family was a Ravenclaw, what if I’m different…?” Her sister said, shifting her position on the seat to kneel on it, facing the back and turning her head to look into Grâce’s eyes.

“Not everyone,” Grâce corrected, “Grandma was a Gryffindor, remember, and a proud one at that,” she stated, giving her sister a nod. The latter sat properly again, looking a little upset.

Grâce was right, but still, she wanted to be in Ravenclaw. Almost every member of their family that attended Hogwarts was sorted into Ravenclaw, a lot of them excelled in school. The past year, Grâce achieved all her O.W.L.s, she was so skilled in Arithmancy, Divination, Potions, Herbology and many other subjects and fields, including Quidditch, being part of the team since her third year. She would be expected to do as well as her older sister. At least that’s how she saw it, and she would hate to be a disappointment to her family.

“Come on, you should put on your robes, we’ll be there soon,” Grâce interrupted her sister’s train of thought, gently nudging her arm with the hand that held the robes. The girl took them and proceeded to put them on. Grâce sat down again, unfolding her own garment.

“But what if I’m in Slytherin…?” She asked quietly, taking a quick look at the boy sitting across from them, on the other seat. Grâce mechanically turned her head to find the student, already in his black and green robes, the Slytherin emblem on his chest. He was reading Libiatus Borage’s book of Advanced Potion-Making, a book that Grâce herself had to buy this year, and seemed absorbed in his reading.

To her surprise, the boy looked up from his book, and Grâce’s look briefly met his black eyes, peeking through equally dark stands of hair. She quickly looked away though, scolding herself for being so intruding and impolite. She came around quickly and looked at her sister again. Reaching out to arrange the fastening of her robes.

“Well, then you’ll still be an excellent witch, except you’ll be wearing green,” she simply said, playfully poking her sister’s nose with her finger.

Grâce looked over at the boy again, just to make sure she didn’t upset him too much, but he was still reading in silence. After she quickly slid on her own robes, she sat back and turned her head to the window, letting her eyes wander to the slow-moving mountains, still slightly visible in the light of the setting sun, her ears filling with the metallic clatter of the train zooming along the railroad as everyone in the compartment stayed silent.

Later when the train reached Hogsmeade station, Grâce guided her sister out of the compartment, making sure she didn’t forget anything, and out of the train, leaving the dark-haired boy behind without a word.

As soon as they stepped onto the platform, a loud and hoarse voice reached their ears. “First years! This way please,” the voice said and Grâce turned her head to see Hagrid standing at the end of the platform, a lantern in hand. “Come on, don’t be shy…” he said playfully.

Grâce turned to her sister who looked back, concerned, expecting her to confirm what the man said. “This is Hagrid, he’ll take you all to the castle,” Grâce announced with a gentle voice, her sister didn’t move. “Come on, off you go…” she said, gesturing her to make her way to the end of the platform. “I’ll see you later in the great hall,” she then explained with a nod, and the girl was off to join the other first year students.

Grâce’s lips bent into a small smile as she watched her sister walk away, her robes swirling slightly with each step in the gentle wind. She remembered her first year, she remembered walking along the train to join the crowd. She remembered the excitement and the amazement when she first saw the stone castle, its thousands of lights standing out in the dark of night and reflecting on the surface of the lake. With this in mind, she turned the other way and started walking towards the carriages, hoping to catch one before they were all gone.

*****

“Edward Doyle.” Professor McGonagall’s voice resonated within the great hall as she called another student. Grâce watched the boy walk towards the stool and sit down. McGonagall put the old hat on his head and it came to life instantly.

It frowned in deep thought, taking a few seconds before answering, searching for a suitable house for the boy, “Slytherin!” it then declared as a round of applause went up among the students. Grâce briefly turned towards the table of the Slytherin house, her eyes immediately finding the dark-haired boy, he was the only one to barely applause, his face neutral, the slight movement of his hands making the sleeves of his robes brush back and forth over the book that was set beside his plate, the same book she saw him read back in the train.

“Victoire De Beaumont,” McGonagall called, looking away from the parchment she held in her right hand. Grâce was pulled out of her thoughts as she felt a slight pinch in the heart when she heard her sister’s name. She turned slightly on her seat to get a better look at what was happening a few feet away, at the head of the great hall.

Victoire slowly made her way to the stool, briefly looking back at Grâce as she nodded with a smile, encouraging her to go. The professor gently put the hat on her head and waited for it to start talking.

“Aaah, I see, you want to prove your worth, don’t you…” Victoire bit her bottom lip slightly, her eyes finding Grâce’s. “And you have quite a few skills already, you might fit in Slytherin,” the girl’s heartbeat quickened suddenly. “But… I see something more here, don’t I…” she looked up, waiting for its final decision, silently pleading to be sorted into Ravenclaw, where she could stay with her sister. “Well then, that’ll be… Gryffindor!”

Surprise and excitement washed over Grâce as students of every table applauded at the same time, the Gryffindor one being the loudest, of course. Grâce applauded too, and smiled to her sister who seemed to join her housemates with a bitter-sweet smile on her face.

After all the new students were sorted, Dumbledore summoned the food for the feast and wished everyone a good appetite. The first year students were all amazed by the sudden appearance of the food but Grâce didn’t pay attention to it as she looked around to find where her sister was seated. Luckily, she was almost right behind her, only a few feet closer to the head of the hall.

Grâce sneakily got up from the bench and quickly crossed the space left between the Ravenclaw table and the Gryffindor one. She approached her sister and crouched beside her, taking her hands in hers. “Hey, Vicky, don’t be upset, you’ll do great in Gryffindor, I promise…” she said quietly, so that only her could hear. Victoire gave her a smile. “You’ll make a lot of friends, you’ll see,” she added, nearly interrupted by another voice coming from the other side of the table.

“That’s quite alright, Victoire, we Gryffindors are friends with everyone,” the boy said with an enthusiastic voice, “Except with Slytherins, they can’t be trusted,” he added mockingly.

Grâce got up and looked at the boy as he laughed with his friends. “Oh shut up Potter,” she said, rolling her eyes slightly. James Potter made a hobby out of despising Slytherins, as well as generally getting on people’s nerves. Grâce hardly came across him during her past few years in Hogwarts, except on Quidditch events, but she knew him from reputation, he and his three friends.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Vic, we’re here if you ever need anything,” he said with a more serious tone that Grâce rarely heard coming from him. “We’re all friends here,” he announced, stretching the word ‘all’, giving Grâce an insisting look that made her roll her eyes. Good words and noble promises… She smirked slightly.

“Alright, then I’ll hold you accountable if anything happens to her, Potter,” Grâce said and James looked confused and ready to talk back. For an instant she thought she beat him at his own game. She might have…

“It would be an honor to be of use, My Lady…” the boy next to James said, patting his friend’s shoulder. She looked over at her new interlocutor and pulled a fake smile.

“Don’t be cocky, now, Black…” she said with a tilt of the head. The very few times she saw him, he had made a habit of sarcastically mocking her. This time was no exception, and she responded as usual. Ending the conversation with them, she turned to Victoire again, gently tucking a stand of blond hair behind her small ear. “I’ll see you later, Mon Cœur,” she added quietly before addressing James with a monotone voice, “see you later on the field.”

She went back to her table without another word and as soon as she turned her back, a sly smile played on Remus’ face. “See you later in class…” he corrected and his friends looked delighted. As a matter of fact, Remus had already had a look at the class schedule. N.E.W.T.-level classes involved students of all houses, as long as they met the requirements. And he knew he and his friends were taking a lot of the same classes as Grâce did. Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration…

Oh the Marauders would get to have fun again this year.

*****

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it, please consider leaving feedback to let me know if you would want to read part 2!

#Harry Potter #young!sirius black x reader #young!sirius black x oc #young!sirius black #sirius black #hp marauders #james potter #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #sirius black x oc #female!oc #ravenclaw #Gryffindor #slytherin #hogwarts #writing is hard

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xokiedokie · 5 years

Text

I’ll be with you every step of the way

Platonic Iron-dad and Spider-son

Fandom: Marvel/MCU

Description: Tony calls the Avengers together in an attempt to form friendships between past enemies. Peter is particularly nervous about meeting some of the team for the first time. Tony helps him out.

Warnings: This is a tickle fic. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.

Author’s Note: Hey! As you may have noticed, this is my first fanfiction. I don’t consider myself the best writer, but I hope it’s enough to satisfy everyone. I’ve been wanting to post something for quite a while, yet I never worked up the nerves to do it until now. I welcome any criticism that comes to mind, as I’m always looking to improve my writing! I hope you enjoy this piece of crap I spewed out, thank you! <3

—————————————————————————

Golden rays of sunlight interlaced across leather chairs, painting a picture of aurum and auburn against its expanse. The gentle hum of the car’s engine reverberated throughout the area, joining the rhythmic whir of the air conditioning. Happy sat behind the wheel, his gaze on the rear view mirror, lost in space. But oh, even as the ambience of melancholy laced through his veins, Peter really, absolutely, positively did not want to be there.

Thor. The great, all powerful, ever-praised Avenger, with his gleaming, coarse platinum hair, his piercing blue eyes laced with silver, staring, calculating. He was fierce. He was everything Peter dreamed to be. And no, in no reality could he handle the possibility of meeting him.

Yet there he sat, driving through the haze of his dreams. Colors blurred at the seams as he progressed, a sick feeling twisting in his gut. Oh, God.

It was an “Avenger Meet Up” that Tony insisted everyone attended. “It’s important for everyone to know who they’re working with,” he’d said to Peter, tapping a pen against his temple as he gazed aimlessly at a page of scribbles, “Remember when you used to stand in a circle and introduce yourselves in first grade? Same thing. Textbook stuff, Pete.”

Now, Peter was of course ecstatic. Meeting the entirety of the Avengers? He could hardly contain his excitement. However, though it was all nerve racking, nothing caused his blood to curtle quite as much as the great and powerful Thor himself.

Attempting to steady his shaking hands, Peter balanced himself against his knees, tilting forwards. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet Thor. No, not at all. It was his fear of making a bad impression. What worse than to embarrass himself in front of him? The thought caused his gut to wrench in pain. Peter exhaled, ignoring the look of curiosity his mentor wore beside him.

After a few more moments of silence, Tony sighed with finality. “Alright,” he removed his sunglasses, slapping his free hand on Peter’s shoulder. “What’s up, Pete? And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because that’s bullshit.”

“Oh,” Peter stammered, waving his trembling hands in the air. The last thing he wanted was for Tony to know how nervous he was. He was Spiderman! Crime-fighting, butt-kicking, web-slinging Avenger. This was nothing in comparison to some of the things he had to deal with. Noticing the sudden burning sensation behind his eyes, he straightened his composure. “Uh, no, um, it really is nothing, Mr. Stark.”

Tony tsked. “Peter.”

“I just, it’s just— is it hot in here? It feels hot. I think we should turn down the AC—“

“Kid, c’mon.”

Peter groaned in defeat, shaking his head. Cars honked in the background, the sound echoing throughout the morning air. The smell of candy filled his senses as they passed some roadside shops, the scent sweet and syrupy. He wished he could fade away into the essence of it, to hide from this confrontation, to be anywhere, anywhere but here. “I- I don’t know, Mr. Stark.” He mumbled at last, shrugging with somewhat of a sheepish expression. “Just nerves, I guess.”

Iron-man’s features softened. He leaned back against his chair with a creak. “You know, Pete,” He said, glancing at the people outside as they passed in a blur. “A lot of the Avengers admire your guts.”

Peter perked up at that, turning his gaze towards Tony. “Really?”

“Really.”

“They said that?”

“Quite a few of them, actually.”

Peter smiled, one of happiness growing. It came from deep inside to light his eyes, spreading across every part of him. However, his smile faded just as quickly as it appeared, disappearing into nothing more than a simple twitch of the mouth. “What about, uh, Thor?” He asked, voice light and airy.

“Thor?” Tony repeated. He shook his head, staring at the roof of the car as he thought it over carefully. “No, I haven’t heard him say anything. But that doesn’t mean--”

“Ugh,” Peter whined. He buried his face between the crevices of his fingers. “I knew it! He hates me.”

“What?” Tony shook his head in bewilderment. “No. Come on, Pete. Thor has just as much of a reason to respect you as everyone else does.”

Peter sighed. Stretching, he raised his arms above his head, shirt riding up as he did so. A thin line of milky white appeared just above his pant line, revealing the softness of his skin. “I don’t know.” He muttered, gazing out the window. “What if he thinks I’m weird?”

“He won’t, kid. I promise.” He reached out, delivering a quick poke to the boy’s belly. “Now, pull down your shirt.”

Peter yelped, doubling over in one swift movement and successfully trapping Iron-man’s hand. Tony stared, taken aback by the sudden action. His eyes trailed from his hands to the kid’s flustered face, with a cherry hue against his cheeks, his lips contorted into a smile. Tony raised his eyebrows.

“Did I hurt you?”

If possible, Peter’s went ten shades darker. He bit his lip, squirming in his position, having yet to free Tony’s hand. “Um,” He stuttered out between quick intakes of breath, “No?”

“You sure? Because if you’re injured—” Much to Peter’s dismay, Tony began kneading into his stomach, searching for a nonexistent wound. He squeaked and squirmed, successfully trapping Tony’s hand even more. “Mr. Stahark!” He gasped, a few stray giggles escaping his lips. “Quihit it!”

Tony stopped, rendered even more confused than before. He studied his hand, before a wave of realization washed over his face, and his lips twitched into a smirk. Oh, that dreaded smirk. Just a subtle tug at the corner of his lips, the narrowing of his eyes and a tilt of his head, and Peter was at a loss for breath.

“Oh. You’re just ticklish.” He wriggled his fingers a bit at that, purposely this time, and Peter swore he nearly died. He scrunched his eyes closed, strained giggles flowing from his mouth as Tony just watched in amusement. “Is that it?”

“Nohoho! Cuhut ihit ouhohout!”

Peter had always been unbearably ticklish. It was a weakness he prayed nobody would figure out. Of course, everybody did in the end, as it wasn’t very easy to hide. Now, Tony Stark? It was one thing for him to know he was ticklish. It was a whole other thing for him to exploit it. Peter had never felt so utterly embarrassed in his life.

Happy sighed in the front as Peter’s childlike laughter filled the area. He pressed a button, causing a thin separator to rise from seemingly nowhere, blocking their view of him. However, nothing could hide the faint smile on his lips as the wall closed in between them.

Tony slowed his fingers until they lay completely still at Peter’s belly, buried in his skin. “Okay,” he teased, “Well, you have to let me go first.”

Peter whined as Tony’s fingers sat unmoving against the ticklish nerves in his stomach. His lip lay tucked beneath his teeth as he contemplated a safe escape. If he sat up, he’d leave himself vulnerable and susceptible to an attack, but he certainly couldn’t stay there.

“Can’t you just, uh, pull your hand out?” Peter asked sheepishly, a blush at his ears.

“Well,” Tony mumbled. He moved his hand a bit, fingers brushing against Spider Man's stomach and causing the boy to let out a rather high pitched yelp.

“Okahay, stahap!” Peter cackled. “Unngh.” He rolled to the side as much as the seat belt would allow, squirming until Tony’s hand slid free.

Tony sniggered at the mess of a boy before him, flustered, childlike bubbliness bursting at the seams. He really was just a kid, despite his Spider-Man display. His hair lay sprawled against his forehead, his eyes barely visible beneath his lashes as he squeezed them shut. He was, overall, just a teen trying to find his way. Tony smiled.

“Ya know, you really wouldn’t want the bad guys to figure this out.” He chuckled, squeezing the boy’s side.

“Ahah!” Cackled Peter, prying at his mentor’s fingers. Somehow, the feeling rendered his spidey-strength useless. His mind felt too foggy and giddy to decipher the situation at hand, leaving him as nothing more than a flustered pile of giggles. “Dohohont!”

“Why not?” Tony asked, curious fingers now prodding at Peter’s ribs, searching for the weakest one. His bottom rib appeared to be particularly sensitive. “Don’t tell me Spider-Man is giving up already!”

“Shuhut uhuhuHAHA!” Peter threw his head back when Tony’s fingers found his belly once more, poking and spidering against his shirt-clad skin. Unbearable little shockwaves shot throughout his body as his tummy suffered ruthless attacks from Tony. He writhed and kicked, helpless giggles escaping him, leaving his lips in bubbly little spurts.

“We’ll need to modify your suit to protect you against future tickle attacks. I’m thinking thicker material around your midsection?”

“MR. STAHAHARK!”

“Tell you what,” Tony said, his fingers inching towards a small patch of skin, now exposed due to his shirt riding up. Peter shivered. “You stop laughing, and I’ll stop tickling you.”

“Thahahat’s not faihahriHAHAHA! NNHhah!” Peter let out a rather unmanly squeal as Tony’s hand slipped under his shirt, fiendish fingers now skittering across his skin. He scrunched up his face, batting at Tony’s hand, before giving up and sinking back against the chair. “AHAHaaahh!”

“You’re not off to a great start.” Tony laughed. He scribbled against his tummy, reducing the kid into a giggly heap of ticklish goo.

“P-pleHEHEase—“ Peter’s laughter faded into little hiccups as Tony found his lower belly, focusing his attention there. Peter drummed his heels into the car seat, back arched, hands retreating to cover his blushing face.

Any previous anxiety had been completely forgotten at this point, tucked away into the back of Peter’s mind as if it had never existed in the first place. Tony smiled at the mess of a boy now before him, happy to see him laugh. He didn’t laugh enough anymore, not after the whole dying-and-coming-back-again ordeal. He hated to watch the once vibrant boy change into what he had— lifeless, depressed, colorless. It was almost as if his laughter brought back the flurry of colors that made Peter Parker who he was, who he was supposed to be.

“Where else are you ticklish?” Tony asked, amused.

“NOHOWHEREHHERE!”

“Nowhere? Are you sure?” He trailed his fingers upwards, grabbing hold of Peter’s arms and holding them above his head. “What about... here?” He drilled his thumb into one of his underarms. He had to tighten his grip on Peter’s wrists as he yanked at his hands in dismay.

“AhAHa NOHOHah!”

“Aha! You little liar. Well, that’s not good, is it?” He scratched his fingers against the sensitive skin, clawing and prodding and doing everything else possible to torture the poor boy. His fingers were surprisingly skilled, knowing exactly what buttons to push to drive him up the wall.

He explored every little ticklish spot he could find, from his neck, Peter spluttering and giggling as Tony fluttered his fingers against it, all the way down to his hips, where he absolutely lost it, cackling and bucking and shaking his head as tears of mirth painted an iridescent picture along his cheeks.

It was when Peter’s laughter came out in ragged, exhausted breaths that Tony finally ceased, helping pull the kid’s shirt back down. He panted, chest rising and falling almost as fast as his heart raced. Slumped back against his seat, his eyes heavy, lips parted ever so slightly as his breath wavered in the silence.

“That,” he gasped, eyes wide and dazed, “Was awful.”

Tony laughed, patting the kid’s shoulder. “You feel better though, right?”

“Yeah.” Peter hiccuped, holding his stomach. He really did feel better, more free and upbeat. Though he was still nervous, he was far less so than before. He smiled a genuine smile, turning to Tony. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.” He paused to catch his breath. “But please don’t ever do that again.”

“No promises.”

The thin veil separating them from Happy retracted into itself. Happy’s face appeared in the mirror, smug. “We’re here.”

A large coffee shop came into view, very few cars parked around it. Tony had rented it out for the time being, not to anyone’s surprise. Tony could do anything, almost.

It was a bit of a strange meeting place, Peter thought. He didn’t understand why they couldn’t just meet at the Avenger’s facility. “A nice change,” Tony had said, “Besides, coffee shops are popular. What’s that one called? StripBucks, was it?”

He had received a face palm from Peter.

“You ready?”

Peter swallowed dryly as he examined the area. Faint silhouettes danced across the window, their shadows dull and plain, too many to count. The Avengers, Peter realized, stood casually in that coffee shop. He gulped.

“Yeah. I’m feeling better.”

Tony grinned, slipping on his sunglasses. “You’ll do great, Pete. I know it.”

Peter laughed as Tony ruffled his hair, causing it to stick out in jagged spurts. “Thank you.”

The door opened in a blur. He didn’t know when he left the car, but soon they were trudging towards the shop, Happy right behind them. The world seemed foggy in that moment, just a series of colors and shapes. All that mattered was the smile plastered on Peter’s face, Tony’s hand against his shoulder, and the words that seemed to echo throughout his mind as Tony nudged his arm.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #iron dad #spider son #avengers #tickle #tickle fic #ticklish!peter #what else should i tag #tickling #mcu #fluff #fanfic #mine #lmaooo #k bye i'm done #ticklish!spiderman #ticklish!peterparker

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ducklettwrites · 5 years

Text

31 Days of Fanfic: Day 3 “Not By Blood”

Day 3 prompt: Family

Title: Not By Blood

Now available on ao3

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

In which Sylvain wants a big brother.

Rating: Teen and Up. Warning: scenes describing and implying child abuse (both physically and verbally)

Characters: Glenn Fraldarius (fire emblem), Sylvain Jose Gautier (fire emblem)

Pairings: n/a

Author’s Notes: This one is late, and long. Probably the longest one I’ll write for this challenge. I’ve had this planned for a bit, and I greatly underestimated how difficult it would be to translate into words. Now just to say, this fic does deal heavily in themes of child abuse (both verbally and physically). Please be warned. Also, this fic is not ship. Glenn is approximately 15, and Sylvain is approximately 9 (the fact that at this point, Glenn was canonically engaged to a 7 year old greatly disturbs me wtf IS??).

They are Felix’s friends, and you need to treat them with respect.

A fact that his father was quick to remind him of whenever other noble houses were around. Truthfully Glenn had nothing against them, they were only children of course. That didn’t mean they weren’t annoying or tiresome. He was glad that Felix could keep them away from him, occupied with some game they played or whatever. Still, it didn’t hurt to be safe and keep yourself in a position away from their antics.

The training grounds were precisely where Glenn could be to get away. Surely any sensible child knew that running in the same area as arrows flying or swords swinging was not to be attempted. The only company he had to worry about was the mature adults. Though thinking a talk from Count Galatea about his future marriage did little to put him at ease on that front. Nor did the sudden feeling that he was being watched.

Attempting to ignore the feeling, he pushed through more forms, pausing between swings to bury his discomfort. Finding it becoming harder to breathe, he whipped around to face the person so keen on interrupting him. He intended on telling them off, giving them a piece of his mind, or something.

Looking at him with a sense of childlike innocence was the red-haired lanky Gautier child. Glenn found himself tongue tied. Despite his frustration, he knew the verbal lashing that came with yelling at a child, particularly the child of a neighboring house. Racking his brain to find what to say, he chose his words carefully.

“You really shouldn’t be out here.” He said slowly. “You could get hurt.” He hoped that by phrasing it as if he cared would soften whatever yelling came from correcting another man’s child.

Gautier’s child seemed unphased by his words, and simply stared back with an expression mixed of confusion and amusement. This, greatly unsettled Glenn, who was only getting more unnerved by the child’s continued presence. Luckily, he didn’t have to put up with him for long.

“Sylvain? Sylvain come on!” His brother’s voice called for the lost child from the group. Sylvain Gautier did not hesitate in rushing off to rejoin the others, only stealing one last glance in Glenn’s direction before disappearing from the grounds.

Glenn was alone once again, but that did little to calm his nerves. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. Gautier's child was just a foolish little one who wandered too far from the group. Surely nothing would come of this, surely.

Border meetings were hell. Several hours of listening to his father speak with the leader of their closest neighboring territory, and Margrave Gautier loved hear himself talk. He hoped no one would be offended that he excused himself to stretch his legs. He especially hoped no one had seen he had already fallen asleep at this meeting, dozing off some time ago only to awake and find the Margrave still talking.

He yawned and stretched, he knew this was all part of the game of nobles. With a sigh, he tried to keep his mind clear, moving through the halls of the family home. He knew he’d have to return to the meeting eventually, but he wanted to try and force himself awake first.

Passing several murals and paintings on the walls, he tried to remember what each had represented, who the portraits were of, anything to stay awake. Slowly he becomes aware of something, someone else watching him. Small footsteps moved quickly to keep up with Glenn’s increasing strides. Finding it impossible to outmaneuver his small stalker, he turned around to face them.

Sylvain Gautier was panting slightly, out of breath. Messy red hair hung over his eyes as he gripped the wall, taking small deep breaths.

This time Glenn found it difficult to hold his tongue. “What do you want?” he said in a regrettably snappish tone.

He thought he saw the child flinch, but tried to ignore it. “Was… wondering… what you were… doing.” Sylvain said between shallow breaths. “Thought… you were… suppose to still be in with… my father.”

Shit. Right. Everything he said would get back to Margrave Gautier, and that’s exactly the drama that his family needed right now was for the kid to squeal. For the sake of not pissing off their neighboring house, Glenn pushed down his annoyance.

“Apologies. And I am.” He adopted a softer, calmer voice through gritted teeth. “I just thought I’d take a quick walk.”

“Are the meetings… you know… boring?” Sylvain was getting better control over his breath now.

Glenn nearly snorted. “Come again?”

“Father says I’ll have to start going soon.” Sylvain explained “He says I need to start taking responsibility as a leader, but they sound boring. I don’t want to sit and watch grown ups talk.”

Neither do I kid. Glenn tried to keep himself from smiling. Another thing he didn’t need was to be blamed as a bad influence. “They’re important.” he forced himself to say eventually.

Sylvain sighed dramatically. “But why though? Can’t they just agree to work together and get it over with?”

It was getting harder to hide his amusement. “It’s not just agreeing that they need to do. It’s tactics and plans to make sure there isn’t an invasion.”

“I guess you’re right.” Sylvain said stretching his arms over his head. “When I take over my house, I’m going to make the meetings fun.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I look forward to it.” Glenn managed to give a bemused smile.

Sylvain was practically beaming in response. It unsettled Glenn slightly but he did his best to hide it, at the very least he would hopefully be out of trouble.

“Sylvain?” His brother’s voice shook him out of the trance he found himself slipping into.

Sylvain turned toward where Felix was calling, but hesitated. Switching glances between Glenn and his companion, clearing waiting for something.

“Go on, Sylvain.” Glenn gently shooed his brother’s friend toward his general location.

Sylvain still hesitated.

“We can continue talking later.” He could kick himself for his words.

Finally satisfied, Sylvain ran off. “Coming Felix!” Glenn heard him yell as he dashed away.

He sighed, and began walking back to the tactics room. At least the kid had no reason to squeal, and worst case scenario, he could avoid a child for a few days.

He yelled as the training dummy lost another limb. He was breathing heavier than he cared to admit. He wiped off his sword, preparing for the next strike. Training was a natural way to handle frustration, and boy was it relieving pretending the dummies were any number of stressful people. His father and future father-in-law were the bane of his existence. How the hell was he suppose to think about marriage right now? He would be moving out with his posting soon to patrol along the border. And hell, she was only seven. How the hell was he suppose to love her when she didn’t even know what love was?

Another swing and the dummy lost its head. Glenn stood breathing over the lifeless replica. How soon would he be seeing the real thing? A knot turned in his stomach and he pushed the thought aside. Combat was not to be feared, it was a natural part of being a knight. Glenn reminded himself of how much he wanted it, how much he worked for it, and the feeling subsided. With a sigh, he collected the training dummy and walked back to the edge of the grounds. He would get yelled at to be more careful with them from the maid, but he didn’t care.

Dropping the pieces off near the exit he noticed one of the training swords had been taken. He didn’t have to look far to find its procurer. On the other end of the training grounds, against the light of the setting sun, Sylvain was moving back and forth with the trainer in hand. Every so often, landing an imaginary jab against his imaginary assailant and laughing.

Glenn sighed, and began to move to retrieve the wooden sword to place among the others.

Sylvain had not noticed Glenn until he was nearly upon him. Strangely, the child’s face turned white when he spotted Glenn and he froze. They exchanged looks for a few moments, Sylvain looking like a deer about to be shot between the eyes, before Glenn once again pushed closer. Except each step Glenn made forward, Sylvain moved back.

Not in the mood for games, Glenn dove to grab the wooden sword. Sylvain, however, was small and quick, and backed out of his reach before he could retrieve it. He wasn’t however, well balanced, as he landed in the dirt. Glenn made another move to get the sword, and Sylvain crawled once again out of reach.

Running out of patience, he went for a third grab of the sword. Sylvain dodged him again, but just barely, and dodging did cost him. Glenn was now standing over him and he had no way to slip out.

“I’m sorry.” Sylvain whimpered. He had dropped the sword and adopted a defensive stance, raising his arms over his face and cowering. “I’m sorry sorry sorry.” he was practically chanting the words over and over.

Glenn stood over him, confused. It was as if he was expecting to be hurt. Looking closer at the child’s arms, he could see portions exposed from rolled up sleeves and his heart sank. Cuts, bruises, partially healed, and definitely intentional lined the child’s forearm up to his wrist. He had suspected Margrave Gautier to not be one to spare the rod, but surely a nobleman knew not to damage a part so exposed lest it draw attention.

He pushed his distaste for the Margrave aside, extending his hand out to the cowering Gautier child. It took Sylvain several seconds to realize there was no immediate attack and to lower his arms. It took him longer to realize the outstretched hand was in fact, for him, and was not meant as a threat. He faltered when taking the hand and cautiously pushed himself to his feet. With Sylvain on his feet, Glenn bent down to pick up the training sword.

“I apologize for scaring you.” he said catching Sylvain’s gaze as he stood back up, the child had been crying.

“I should have just said I needed the training sword instead of trying to chase it from you.” Glenn continued.

Sylvain rubbed his eyes with his sleeve, and remained silent.

“If it would make it up to you, I can show you how to properly do that move you were working on. It took me awhile to get good at it too.”

“You’d do that?” Sylvain’s voice was weak, and on the verge of breaking.

“It’s the least I can do to make up for it.” Glenn handed the trainer back to Sylvain and drew his own sword. “Now, when you step forward, you move your arm like this.”

He continued practicing with the Gautier child until dark, and he had to admit the child was a fast learner. Though the injuries still bothered him. He would need to discuss it with his father at a later time.

He had been gone for several weeks. The mission lasting much longer than originally anticipated. He never knew how great it would feel to step into his own home again. The relief of being home was brought short as all his other responsibilities caught back up to him. Marriage, politics, training. It was the combat on the homefront.

Glenn wandered through the halls and stopped near the exit leading to the training grounds. It was getting late, but he could not go to sleep now. One or two forms wouldn’t hurt he told himself, pushing out to the open range. The moonlight illuminated shadows of the field. The blackness of night was eerily calming as he drew his sword.

Movement caught his eye from the edge of the ground. Clearly late night practice had not been an idea for him alone. He didn't need to take more than one guess who had come for late night practice.

Sylvain was moving back and forth, trainer in hand, still practicing the form Glenn had shown him all that time ago. He silently admitted the kid had basically mastered it, a high achievement considering Felix was still working on the basics. Though as Glenn watched, he felt something in him tighten. Not every time, but on occasion, when the form called for the arm to extend, Sylvain would wince ever so slightly. It wasn't until he actually dropped the training weapon that Glenn felt the knot in his stomach again.

He had implored his father to look into the matter before he left, on why Felix's friend always seemed reluctant to leave and why he shied away from certain contact or grew nervous when you raised your voice at him. Rodrigue had sighed and promised he could approach the subject, but not promise results. Sylvain was not his child, afterall, and it was not his business how the Margrave handled his child.

It seemed nearly three months later, progress still had not been made. Glenn had to push down his anger, he would talk to his father later. Until then, he would get to the bottom of it as best he could.

"Impressive. You're doing quite well." He did his best to keep from immediately scaring the child as he strode toward him.

Sylvain turned around to face him, surprised. "Thank you!" He called back, practically glowing from the unexpected praise.

"Have you been practicing that one move the entire time?" Glenn was now standing over him, trying to keep his tone even and not arouse suspicion.

"Father says I should be practicing with lances, but I really like the sword." Sylvain jabbed forward with the weapon, striking his imaginary opponent in the ribs. "So I've been splitting it up, lances with father, and swords here."

So he's keeping secrets from him. "Is there any reason your father doesn't want you to learn swords?"

"They're unnecessary." Sylvain made another strike. "I'll be using the family relic, there's no reason to waste time learning the sword." The words were clearly not his own, but one of a prideful parental figure. "But I try to ignore him, I need to learn as much as possib-ah-"

Sylvain had extended his arm only to recoil in pain. Pulling back quickly to cradle the injury, Glenn could hear the child silently cursing to himself.

"Are... you hurt?" Again, Glenn tried to keep his voice even and concerned.

"It's nothing." His voice was barely audible. "It should've healed by now."

Glenn was starting to feel his anger rising. "Can I see it?"

"It's really nothing."

Don't raise your voice, stay calm. "I just want to see, I did learn some healing magic from the knights."

Sylvain hesitated, but eventually pulled up the sleeve with a shaky hand. Glenn's heart dropped. It was quite obvious the arm had been broken, and the bruised outline of a handprint made it clear this was no accident. He tried to breathe, let the white magic flow through his fingertips like he was taught as he ran them down the forearm.

"Who did this to you?" It was getting harder for Glenn to mask his anger.

"It's not important." Sylvain began to shake beneath Glenn's touch.

"If someone is hurting you, it is important." He stopped the flow of magic, but did not fully release Sylvain's arm. "This wasn't an accident, Sylvain. Someone did this to you on purpose and wanted to hurt you. So, who did this to you?"

He watched the fear rise in the child's eyes. "It's really not important." He repeated.

"Sylvain, it is important." He could feel himself getting frustrated. "Who did this to you?"

"It's not important."

"Who did this to you?"

"It's not important!" Sylvain nearly shouted the response before attempting to pull his arm away.

Glenn's grip tightened. "Who did this to you?" He shouted back, keeping Sylvain close.

Fuck. The effect was immediate. Sylvain let out a panicked screech before successfully pulling away from Glenn. He wasted no time sprinting as far as he could. Glenn debated on chasing him, but ultimately decided against it. He had terrified the kid enough for one night.

His father had rebuked him for scaring Felix’s friends but nothing more. No mention of the injury, not one word on the child’s treatment. When Glenn brought it up, he was dismissed. It was not his child, he could not interfere. It was terrible, but it could not be changed.

What’s worse is that the kid didn’t even come near him anymore. In fact, Sylvain seemed to give the entire Fradarius clan a wide berth. During border meetings, he was actively avoiding seeing, speaking, or otherwise interacting with anyone. As troubled as Glenn was of the situation, he could not deny that his brother had taken it worse. Felix had, more than once, made him aware that he was the one to ruin his friendship with the Gautier child. Glenn didn’t even bother to argue or defend himself. It would be useless trying to explain what was happening to an eight year old.

To add more shit to the fire, seeing the Gautier clan enter the Fraldarius estate, Sylvain looked the worst he’d ever been. Jumpy, ragged, worn, and so so tired. This kid was suffering, and no one was bothering to cover it up. Someone was getting away with this, and no one, not especially the child’s father, seemed to care.

Glenn hated to admit defeat, it was criminal that this was allowed to continue as it did, but he did admit to a feeling of hopelessness. He had not been able to get the child to admit to wrongdoing on anyone’s part, and now it seemed he had ruined the chance for the subject to be brought up again.

He sighed, pulling himself out of a drowsy haze that was sitting through another lecture by Margrave Gautier on border security. He would wake himself with training, then go to bed, then rise for another long discussion tomorrow. Such is the life of a noble. He pushed out the door to the setting sun.

To his surprise, and horror, he was not alone in the training grounds. Despite how shit Sylvain looked, and honestly must have felt he was doing his best to push through a rigorous practice routine. It was a lance, not a sword, that he had in his hands and was forcing through the same motion over and over again.

He didn’t need to step out far for the child to notice him. Right away, he stopped practicing and was beginning to gather up equipment to leave, all while not looking at Glenn directly. It would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt, even if just a little.

“Before you go” Glenn began to speak, “I’d like to apologize for… for what happened. I really don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you could not let what happened affect your opinion on Felix. He does miss you…”

Sylvain’s back was turned to Glenn, so he couldn’t see the child’s face. It was sudden as he fell to the ground and pulled himself into a ball. He broke into sobs and didn’t even try to run away when Glenn moved closer to him and sat down at his side.

Thankfully, one too many situations like this with Felix had prepared Glenn for how to act. He extended his arm, and pulled Sylvain closer, rubbing soothing circles on his back as he gently shushed him. Though not immediate, the rhythmic patterns began to take effect and Sylvain began to calm down, taking deep breaths between sobs.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Glenn asked, this time determined to sound and stay sounding gentle.

He could feel Sylvain shake his head against his chest.

“Talking does sometimes help, if you can.”

“I’m scared, I don’t want to die.” the child’s words were sobering to say the least.

“You’re afraid… of dying?”

A nod.

Goddess. This kid wasn’t even ten. “Can I ask? About what we were talking about last time, are you afraid of someone hurting you? Someone like your father perhaps?”

Sylvain pulled back from his grasp to look at him in the eyes. “Father? No, he would never hurt me.”

“If he doesn’t, then who does?” Glenn was genuinely confused now.

The child buried his face back in his chest, and muttered something inaudible.

“What was that?”

“I said Mik.” Sylvain repeated, loud enough to hear this time.

“Who’s-?”

“Mik is my older brother.”

Now he was really confused. The Margrave didn’t talk about any other child. The only child besides Sylvain had, to his memory, died right before...oh.

“He’s the worst, and I hate him.”

“He’s the one who hurts you? Doesn’t your father stop him?”

“Well, yeah. Father never lets Mik go unpunished.” Sylvain had now situated himself away from Glenn’s chest and was looking down. “But Mik says that whatever Father does, he’ll do twice that to me, and he means it. I try not to get Father involved if I don’t have to.”

“And this has been going on for how long?”

“Forever. Mik has never liked me.” Sylvain sighed. “I don’t know what I did. It’s not my fault I have a crest and he doesn’t. I tell him that and he doesn’t believe me. I tell him I’m not scared of him, and he laughs at me.” He was getting worked up now. “And it’s not my fault that when I take over, the best thing he could do is be another soldier in my army and die.”

Fuck. No way was this a simple case of sibling rivalry and no way were these words entirely Sylvain’s.

“And that…” His voice dropped low. “That’s why I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Me?” Glenn asked, shocked. “Why me?”

“Because Felix says you’re the best brother ever.”

“Felix must be mistaken. I’m a terrible brother.”

“No you’re not.” Sylvain turned to him and now wore a very serious expression. “You’re a great brother. You don’t get mad when I watch you train, you let me ask questions, and you apologize.” He was getting excited again. “And not only that, but you show me how to do forms and you don’t say mean things when I practice.”

That was just me showing basic decency.

“And you’ve never called me dumb or weak or lazy.” Sylvain continued. “Or told me to die, or threw me down the stairs, or pinned me to a wall.”

The fact the kid continued to pull examples was making Glenn feel sick.

“...Or threw me in a well. Or put a knife to my throat and tell me how I should just do everyone a favor and kill myself.” He stopped, letting go of the energy and sighing. “And I thought… I thought you could be my brother too.”

“You want me to be your brother?” He tried to hide his surprise.

“Yeah.” Sylvain was speaking so soft now. “Felix told me how great it was to have a brother like you, I thought you could be my brother too.”

He could only guess that having a brother like that would make him look like the greatest brother in the world. The fact that he was only treating him with basic respect and decency didn’t matter to this kid, it was kindness he was unaccustomed to from the one who was suppose to fill a role similar to Glenn. He wondered how much praise Felix really needed to give for this kid to come to the conclusion of how he ranked compared to other brothers in the world. Still that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

“Sure.” Glenn finally said. “I’ll be your brother.”

Sylvain’s face lit up, and he pulled Glenn in for an immediate hug. Glenn sighed, pulling the child closer. He knew he wouldn’t be able to protect him from his own brother, but maybe. Just maybe he could soften the blow of having the worst brother in the world by acting like the best.

#31 days of fanfic #fe #fire emblem #3h #fe3h #sylvain jose gautier #glenn fraldarius #tw child abuse #tw verbal abuse #tw physical abuse #i saw a headcanon someone had where glenn basically adopted sylvain as a little brother and i couldnt help but think of that #aka can we not gloss over how fucked up 3h is like holy shit

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ariahearthockey · 5 years

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Love Me, If You Will - Chapter 6

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Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Tags: 2017 NHL Playoffs, Concussion, Memory Loss, Medical Inaccuracies, Unexplained Medical Conditions, Alternate Reality, Time Travel (sort of), Pining, Fluff, Porn With Feelings, Happy Ending (sort of)

Soundtrack: Dancing On My Own - Calum Scott

_/_/_/_/

Chapter 6

As days turn to weeks, the line between his memory and his reality has began to blur into one big dream. He has played every game after missing one, and he played them with the same tenacity just as before. Game five and six with the Caps were brutal, and even though he already knew, it still didn't take the sting out when they lost. However, the sting kind of faded away when Flower shut the front door in game seven and led them to the East Conference final.

It wasn't like Sidney was surprised by it or anything, because it was already in his head. He kept them mostly to himself though and only hinted vaguely when Geno was curious enough to ask. Sometimes it felt like he was cheating, but no matter how much he thought he knew, he wasn't capable to change anything that happened on the ice. So, in a way it felt like he was just a spectator reliving the playoff for the second time.

At the same time, something new and not hockey related is also happening in his life. It is exciting as much as it is frustrating, but he has never felt more alive. Before all these madness started, he has sometimes allowed himself to fantasize about having a family of his own. White picket fence, a golden retriever named 'Pucky' and a bunch of kids whom he can't get enough of. But as crazy and demanding as his career is, it all seemed pretty out of reach, even when the lack of someone who wants to have all of that with him doesn't put a damper on things.

But it is funny how the universe works sometimes. Somehow he finds himself living in the ultimate fantasy without remembering how he got there.

For one, he has the sweetest little girl that has him wrapped around her little finger the first time they spoke. It was during one of their off days when they called Sidney's parents, whom were temporarily taking care of the little one during the post season. He recalls being so damn nervous that he kept zoning out on what his mother was saying, and strained his ear to listen to the small voice that was mumbling adorably in the background. His mother let out a fond sigh before she finally placed the phone to her granddaughter's ear and urged her to speak.

No one can blame Sidney for wanting to make a good impression on his own daughter. He already feels guilty for not remembering her, and he doesn't want her to sense that something is wrong with him. So, understandingly, he over thinks about how he should act or what he should say to her just so he won't feel foreign to her as she would be to him, but as soon as he hears her squealing 'daddee, daddee!' quite excitedly in his ear, all his nerves are gone on an instant.

And then there is Geno, his husband of five years and fiancé a year before that and boyfriend of two years before that.

And Sidney has no idea what to make of Geno.

To sum it all up, Geno is everything and nothing Sidney has ever expected him to be. There is a side to Geno which Sidney is very well acquainted with—the side which racks up points on the ice like it is nothing, does some hasty dumb shit when he is provoked and comically yells back and forth with Phil when they get frustrated during game time. Sidney is awfully familiar with that side and he has no problem dealing with that.

However, he is woefully under prepared when the husband side of Geno comes up. For one, Geno is very touchy whenever Sidney is around. In other words, he loves to touch Sidney, like, a lot. It is not necessarily a bad thing in Sidney's opinion, if only those lingering touches are not becoming a teasing nuisance that is fucking driving him up the wall.

Sometimes when they are waiting in line to pay for their groceries, Geno would casually slides his hand into Sidney's back pocket and squeezes his ass lightly. And then there are a few occasions when they are driving, Geno would take Sidney's hand in his own, resting them on Geno's thigh before he starts to trace his calloused finger into Sidney's palm and the back of his hand. And one that is more intimate than the others is when Geno joins him in their bathroom, with him crowding Sidney from behind while Sidney is at the sink. Their gaze would connect in the mirror for a short, meaningful moment before Geno hooks his chin over Sidney's shoulder, and they would each brush their teeth in silence. All those little interactions seem innocent enough, and it may have been really nice if only they don't leave Sidney feeling hugely frustrated.

Ever since their almost-incident before game four, Sidney has been expecting Geno to jump him the first chance he gets. Those lingering touches seems promising at first, but it never advanced anything further than that, and it both baffles and infuriates Sidney to no end. Sidney is craving the intimacy that he had a brief taste of, his body is itching for it, but nothing is happening the way he wants to. He is yearning for the hard press of Geno's body on his and those hot, wet kisses that makes his knees go weak. He wants Geno to slam him against the wall and devour him like his last plate of piroshki. But the most he has gotten from Geno—other than those menacing touches—is a little peck here and there and some warm cuddling.

And when he wakes up one night to Geno pressed warmly against his back, he thinks the cock tease is finally coming to an end. Geno is gliding his fingers along Sidney's arm, so soft they almost tickle. The gesture is gentle and unhurried, like it is meant to lull someone back to sleep, but for the intimacy-starved Sidney, it is the most alluring things he has ever felt in weeks. He closes his eyes and surrenders himself into the sweet assault of Geno's touch, and lets out a shuddering breath when Geno plants a feather-light kiss onto the back of his neck. His dick twitches at that and he feels himself getting hotter by the second. And when Geno shifts to get more comfortable behind him, Sidney's throat goes dry. There is no mistaking the hard bulge poking at the small of his back, and it takes every ounce of Sidney's control to stay in absolute stillness, just so he won't startle away whatever that is going on between them.

And then Geno's hand gets more adventurous. Sidney waits with bated breath when the touch trickle from his biceps down to his side, and slowly dragging the warmth to the jut of his hip bone. Sidney's boxer briefs has been tugged low when he is sleeping and he has never been happier to know that Geno is taking full advantage of that. He leans back a little against Geno's chest, and spreads his thighs as subtly as he can manage, at the same time hoping for Geno to slip his hand towards where Sidney desperate needs him to. The anticipation is killing him, and he feels a little light-headed from the sheer amount of time he has held his breath. But then he relents, his body is charged with electricity when Geno starts drawing invisible patterns at the patch of skin very near to his crotch, separated only by the elastics of his sweats. He is miles deep in the cloud of his own pleasure, suffocatingly good before he feels it dissipating, and then gone completely.

He is immediately shocked back to earth and his eyes shoot wide. He counts the seconds before he feels the bed dip behind him, followed by the soft pitter-pattering on their hardwood floor and the click of the light switch. Sidney turns around to see lights coming from their ensuite bathroom, with the door slightly ajar. He tries to listen in from where he is, and it is pin-drop quiet for a moment before he hears a rustling sound followed by a light thud, and then the unmistakable sound of someone jerking off. His mind is immediately assaulted by the image of Geno touching himself. The moans are coming in low and throaty, and it comes in tandem with the image in Sidney's head, and all hell breaks loose.

Sidney springs up on the bed, mind reeling with his unimaginable predicament. Here he is, well and awake and horny as hell. His weeks of accumulated frustration is reaching its boiling point and it is bubbling over the brim. He doesn't think Geno is capable of being cruel like that, riling him up and then abandoning him to his own demise. Geno should know that he is a perfectly willing participant with a perfectly healthy libido, and it is ten levels of unacceptable for Geno to outright rob him of the attention that he deserves. And then Geno goes to take care of himself in the bathroom? No can do.

Sidney crosses the room in several big strides and swings the door wide open. He is all ready to let Geno know how upset he has been, ready to argue that he too has a perfectly functional pair of hands that can make Geno come just the same, if not more. However, he finds himself stuck in motion, his mind blank and there is not much he can do other than staring ahead with his jaw on the floor.

It feels like he is watching a scene out of his own personal wet dream. Geno is leaning over the sink, one hand perched on the marble top and the other a blur around his hardened dick. His chin rests against his flushed chest, totally lost in the chase of his own high, and Sidney swallows hard when Geno lets out a low, throaty groan. It is hypnotising and hot as fuck to see Geno pleasuring himself in quick, hard strokes, and Sidney can't help but presses the heel of his palm onto his own erection, tenting uncomfortably in his sweats.

He hears a guttural moan reverberates into the room before he registers it as his own, and Geno's eyes fly open in surprise. If he is embarrassed for getting caught jerking off on his own, it doesn't show in his face. He just halts his hand but makes no move to shield himself from Sidney whatsoever. Sidney ought to feel annoyed for the lack of scrambling or something of the sort, but he can't help but be more turned on by that confidence. Geno stares at Sidney with hazy, bedroom eyes, and gives his dick a few cursory strokes before he lets out a breath in a huff.

"Sid," Geno starts, his voice noticeably low and husky. "Sorry I'm wake you, I'm try to be quiet but," He continues a little sheepishly, but Sidney isn't paying a lot of attention to what Geno has to say, really. His eyes are stuck on the throbbing length in Geno's big hand, and it is reddened and slick with precome and looks so incredibly mouth-watering, he just want to drop onto his knees and just lick.

"I—I was already awake when you uh—when you were groping me." Sidney mutters with his eyes still locked on Geno's dick, and by the way his precome is dripping down the side, Sidney can tell that Geno is almost near the end if he hasn't interrupted earlier.

"Oh! I'm not know you awa—fuck, Sid. I'm sorry, I'm not mean to—" He tears his eyes away from Geno's dick when he hears Geno's rambling, trying to make sense of what he is saying. It takes a while though—since his mind is filled with nothing but lust at the moment—but he thinks he get what Geno is apologising for. He flicks his eyes back up and locks Geno in, before he takes a cautious, experimental step towards Geno.

"Why'd you leave, Geno?" He asks with another step forward. Seeing Geno being frazzled by his admission is making him feel braver.

"Fuck, I'm not plan to do. I'm think we just sleep, but Sid feel good, very pretty when sleep and I'm uh—"

"But why did you leave?" Sidney asks again, cutting Geno's rambling short. Geno looks at him with a confused daze on his face but it is quickly dissolved into something else. Sidney closes the remaining distance between them, until he is just a breath away from Geno.

"I—I'm not—"

"Geno," Sidney stops him again, his voice just short of a whisper. "Don't you want me?"

In that instance, Geno's demeanor changes entirely. His face crumbles in defeat, his eyes shut tight in a groan. And when he opens them again, they are looking at Sidney with so much want, it makes Sidney buckle under the weight of it.

The first touch of their lips together is more chaste that Sidney expects. It is tender and sweet, with soft press of lips and gentle swipes of tongue. But the tenderness escalates into something else quickly when Sidney opens his mouth in invitation, and Geno takes it without hesitation, deepening their kiss by thrusting his tongue pass Sidney's mouth. Sidney grabs Geno by the arms and pushes himself up on his tippy toes and gives his all into the kiss, sucking and licking and biting on Geno's lips. Sidney moans his delight when Geno slides his hand to his ass, the warmth from his palms seeping through the layers. Geno gives his ass a good hard knead before he smooths it towards the bottom and hauls Sidney up in a heave. Sidney lets out a surprised yelp and wraps his powerful thighs around Geno's waist. He pulls back to see Geno smirking at him (the gall of him!) but all humour is forgotten when Sidney clings himself tighter to Geno, and groans in unison when their hardened length press firmly together.

"Take me to bed, G." Sidney pants out against Geno's mouth, and grins when Geno complies without any question.

Sidney continues to kiss Geno and thoroughly enjoys the little punched out groan whenever he does something Geno likes, and it is not long before he is lowered onto the bed and he takes Geno with him without ever breaking their kiss. Geno is draped above him, his hips snugly in between Sidney's thighs and Sidney loves the weight of Geno pressing him into the bed.

"I'm miss you, Sid." Geno says as he comes up for breath, and ducks down to drop wet, opened-mouth kisses along his neck. "I'm miss you so much, baby."

Sidney's moan reverberates across their chests and he arches his back into a bow when Geno bites down hard near his pulse point. He curls his fingers into Geno's hair and tugs, feeling himself losing his mind quickly because Geno has started to rock his hips in a circular motion, grinding him into the bed.

"Hmm, Geno.."

Geno breaks away, and rears back just enough for him to bunch Sidney's shirt up and over his head.

"Fuck, baby. So pretty." Geno swears above him as he drags his big hands down Sidney's chest and stops to play with Sidney's nipples. He pinches the hard nubs in between his thumbs and index fingers, tugging and rolling them until they are red and tender. "I'm want you, baby. Fuck, I'm want you so fucking much."

Sidney moans as his body jerks upwards, and his hands clench and unclench on his sides. His moans turn into sobbing whimper when Geno replaces one hand with his mouth and sucks.

"Sid okay? Is too much?" Geno checks in after he has paid both the nipples an ample amount of attention.

"It's uh—it's a little sensitive but I like it."

Geno's smirks at the admission, like he is pleased to hear it and drops to kiss a long line down Sidney's sternum. "Sid still same, like when I'm make little pain."

Sidney feels his blush rushes up to his cheeks, because he does like his pleasure with a little pain on the side. This little kink of his is far from uncommon but it is one that very few knew about. It is not like he is ashamed of it but he is used to taking whatever his partner is willing to give, and hardly asks for anything he wants. But he can't deny the convenience that his husband not only knew about it, but seems to take pleasure from giving it to him.

He lets out a dry gasp when Geno sucks on the skin near his ribs, and his hands flies up to tug at Geno's hair again as Geno kisses lower and lower until he comes dangerously near Sidney's dick.

"Hhmm, Geno, please.." Sidney pleads in broken voice and he tilts his head up to see Geno looking back at him with a sly grin, like he is about to do something filthy to Sidney.

Sidney watches as Geno hooks his fingers under the waist band and pulls his sweats and briefs down smoothly. His dick bobs out before it rests on his lower abdomen, precome smears messily on his skin there. Geno kisses Sidney's inner thigh and locks him into an intense staring match, then flattens his tongue on the underside of Sidney's balls and drags it up until the dripping tip, and licks the precome off the slit.

"Oh, fuck.." Sidney feels his body shakes with the sudden influx of endorphins and almost crashes over by how good Geno's tongue felt on his dick.

Sidney is easily falling apart and Geno hasn't even done anything yet. At this point, he is not sure if he can survive to actually have his dick in Geno's mouth. But the thought is quickly put to test, as Geno begins pecking small kisses on his swollen head before Geno takes it into his hot, wet mouth.

The first sensation hits him like a punch to his gut, and it feels infinitely better than he imagined. When Geno engulfs more and more of his length, he feels his body is ready to combust at any moment. Watching Geno's luscious lips wrapped around his dick, stretched thinner as he goes deeper, feels a lot like watching live porn, only better and more intimate. He is about halfway down before he bobs up, hollowing his cheek as he goes. The suction feels incredible, like Geno is trying to suck his soul through his dick, and Sidney has to look away, simply to preserve his dignity by not coming too fast like an adolescent child.

Sidney lets out a whiny sob when Geno comes up for air, and he hitches Sidney's legs over his shoulder before going down on his dick again. Sidney trashes his head from side to side, his orgasm mounting fast and it is when Geno slips one finger into his hole that has him wailing into their once quiet room.

Having Geno sucking earnestly on his dick and his long finger in his ass, Sidney feels like his body is coming apart at the seam. His moans are getting gradually louder and his voice is almost hoarse from the constant need to gulp down air. The sensation is too much and not nearly enough, as he bucks his hips to chase the slight stretch of Geno's finger. Geno keeps a steady pace of fucking Sidney's ass with his finger and adds a second one, pushing it slowly in. Sidney rolls his hips and almost chokes Geno with his dick, but he really wants to speed things up a little, not because he is impatient, but because he is rapidly losing his goddamn mind.

"Oh god, Geno. Geno please, please, please.. I—I need more.."

It feels like forever before Geno pushes in a third finger, twisting and stretching the rim of his hole and the inner muscles and Sidney keens over it. Geno has switched to stroking his dick now, and focuses on driving Sidney crazy with the ever slow thrust of his fingers. Geno brushes against his prostate once in a while, and Sidney has his suspicion that Geno knows exactly where to touch, just that he is missing it on purpose. It makes it rather difficult for Sidney to get annoyed by that, especially when it feels like he is shocked by electricity whenever Geno does hit his prostate. He can only whimper like a sobbing mess and surrenders himself to the wishes of what Geno wants to do to him.

"Ass look so good, baby. Want to fucking destroy it."

Like music to his ears, Sidney nods frantically and makes a noise that is almost too whiny when Geno withdraws his hands from his ass as well as his dick. Sidney huffs a few deep breaths as he watches Geno go over the content in their nightstand, and pulls out a less than half empty bottle of clear lube. Oh, yes. They will need a lot of those if Sidney wants the night to go with what he has in mind. The spit may do an okay job for when it is just Geno's fingers, but no matter how stretched Sidney is, they will still need lubes to help ease Geno's impressive length into Sidney.

"How you want?"

Without hesitation, Sidney shifts onto his front and gets up onto his hands and knees. He spreads his knees a little, testing the position to acquire the best balance and comfort before he hears a string of Russian that sounds really filthy in his ears. He looks over his shoulder and sees Geno's wrecked face and he feels a smug satisfaction for making Geno forgets his English.

"Like what you see, Geno?" Sidney teases with a little wiggling of his ass.

It sets off another round of incoherent swearing but it boils Sidney's blood just the same. The look of desire and want is clear on Geno's face, and suddenly, there is just too much space in between them.

"Come on, Geno. Fucking destroy me."

Sidney feels as scandalous as he is desperate, but it no longer matter when Geno comes up behind him, spreading generous amount on Sidney's entrance and lubes himself up in a hurry. Sidney holds his breath at the first press of Geno's blunt head, and hisses when Geno gives a constant pressure in his thrust. When the tip of Geno's tip is all the way through the tight rim, he pauses, and sucks in a breath before he pushes again. It is now Sidney's turn to sucks in air in rapid succession, as his ass is filled inch by inch, his muscles stretching to accommodate the girth of Geno's dick.

Geno grits his teeth in concentration and punches out a deep grunts when he is balls' deep in Sidney, and he keeps himself as still as possible, giving Sidney some time to get used it. For what feels like the longest time, Sidney rocks forward a little to test it out, and it earns him a delicious friction. Geno's grip on his hips tightens significantly, and Sidney knows it is just as good for him as it is for Geno. So Sidney gives Geno the go ahead, and very slowly, Geno rears back until only the head is still inside, and pushes back in. The slow drag of Geno's dick is deliciously good, and they both moan their pleasure in harmony of each other.

"Fuck, baby," Geno grunts as he pulls out again. "You feel fucking good, so fucking tight." And thrusts forward a little harder.

"Oh, God, Geno. Don't stop. That feels so go—" His word ends with a bashful moan when Geno slams into him again.

Geno's thrusts are long and deep, and increasing in strength and speed. It is not long before Sidney is a moaning mess and muttering absolute nonsense, and Geno is pounding into Sidney without much inhibition. All bets are off when Geno plants one leg up on the bed, shifting his position a little, and the slight change of angle has allowed Geno to hit him squarely on his prostate with every thrust. He cries out in pleasure and buries his head into the pillow, and takes it hungrily as Geno continues to pound into him.

"Sid, baby, come on. I'm want you to come." Geno says lowly through gritted teeth, and his hand winds down to tug at Sidney's dripping dick. With just a few strokes, in sync with Geno's thrusts, Sidney comes hard, his vision whites out and his body goes boneless with only Geno holding him up by the waist. Geno's rhythm begins to falter after a few more thrusts, and comes deep in Sidney with a loud roar.

It feels like a while before any of them can move, and that being Geno because Sidney still can't feel his limps. Geno lays Sidney face down, thoughtfully avoiding the cooling splats of come on the sheets before he carefully pulls his softening length out. Sidney winces slightly at the sudden change of pressure but let out a content sigh when he feels Geno's warm come dripping out of his hole. Then, in his bliss-addled mind, he feels the bed bounce beside him and registers Geno plopping himself face down, an arm across his back.

"Fuck.."

"Mhmm.."

Minutes passes, or maybe it is hours, but it sure feels like a long while before Sidney feels his heart go back to its normal rhythm and his limps no longer feel like jelly. The room is now quiet aside from their breathing slowly coming back to normal, and Sidney chances a look at Geno next to him, only to snort as he takes in the wrecked look on Geno's face.

"You're slacking off, G. Need to work on that stamina a little."

Geno groans and says, "No, Sid. I'm come so hard, dick maybe broken now." Sidney gives out a loud honking laugh only to have an annoyed Geno slapping his palm onto his ass before he snuggles closer. Sidney lets himself bask in the aftermath of their explosive orgasm, and hums in delight when Geno litters some kisses on his shoulder. Sidney eyes the puddle of come on the sheets and makes a mental note to strip it out before the cleaning lady comes in tomorrow. But when he tries to push himself up, he is immediately reprimanded by Geno's arm across his back.

"Hey, I'm just gonna get a wash cloth for us, eh?"

Geno grunts and tugs him in even closer, if that is possible.

"Come on, G. It'll only take a second."

Geno wriggles like a fish and plops half his body onto Sidney's back. "No."

Sidney shakes his head and laughs unceremoniously into his pillow, but not moving away from the physical touch. "Is this how it's going to be with you, moving forward?"

"Yes."

"You are unbelievable, you know that?"

And so they stay in that position and bask in the comfortable haze of having their body so wrung out and satiated.

"That was really good, Geno. I think I've never come so hard in my life."

Sidney says with an expectation of a smug response that will sound something like 'of course, Russian best' but Geno is uncharacterically silent. A few moment passes and Sidney feels the weight of Geno lifts as Geno turns onto his back, his arms draped across his eyes.

"I'm feel like asshole, Sid."

Puzzled, Sidney asks, "What? Why?"

Geno lets out a long sigh before turning to face Sidney, and his expression is something Sidney usually saw when Geno feels bad about something. "Sid not remember many things."

"What? What does that have anything to do with—" Sidney trails off and backtracks all the conversations and interactions between them, from the time since the morning he woke up confused up until this very moment, and finds no clue to help him understand what Geno is saying.

Sidney has been nothing but an open book about the glitches of his memory, and it is a relief that Geno seems not bothered by it at all. Geno has been really understanding and supportive, especially when Sidney has his doubts and insecurities. Geno makes an effort to fill Sidney in about their time together, and half of them makes Sidney all flustered and red-faced. And then of course Geno tells him everything about their daughter, about her first word, about how she loves her baths, and about how she would only fall asleep on Sidney's chest before she is put into her cot.

And they just go about their life as normal as they would, and Sidney is thankful that Geno gives him the time and space that he needs, and not pressuring him to remember. If anything, Geno seems rather confident that the memory will return to Sidney, so in the meantime, they live like a pair of doting husbands, except..

"Geno, did you—did you think you were taking advantage of me or something?"

Geno is quiet for a second before he turns to his side and faces Sidney. "Ugh, is hard to say in english. You not remember we together, Sid. To you, we not kiss, we not do things like lover. I'm not want make weird for you."

Sidney doesn't know how to react to this new piece of information. His brain is still stuck on the insinuation of being taken advantage of and it is making it difficult for him to process anything else. Then it dawns on Sidney that Geno has been carrying this false burden with him all these time and it is the cause for all of Sidney's sexual frustration. He cannot believe the surreality of it but at the same time he cannot dismiss the selflessness of Geno's effort to stay away. Stupid, but very thoughtful nonetheless.

"Geno, you stupid jerk," Sidney says when he grabs Geno's chin and kisses him for a full minute. "Did you really think that I don't want this?

"Hmm, I'm think you maybe want, but you not say, so I'm not sure." Geno replies without a pause, still catching his breath.

"Are you serious right now? You flaunt around the house half naked all the time and then you touch me every chance you get. How could you be not sure?"

Geno grins something borderline sheepish, and it is the kind when someone is caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Oh my god, you evil bastard. You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?" Sidney accuses and gives Geno's chest a little shove. He goes for it another time just for fun and it falls into the grasp of Geno's hand.

"Come on, Sid. Don't be angry. I'm just have little fun." Geno says as he tugs Sidney down onto his chest.

"Oh, I bet it's plenty fun for you, doesn't it? Seeing me squirm like that? Ugh, God. You don't know the amount of cold shower I've had these past few weeks—"

"Wait. Sid, you not jerk off?"

Sidney rolls his eyes at the assumption. "Well, of course not. I was waiting for you, dickwat."

Geno looks shocked for a moment before his brows furrow into a straight line and looking all serious and determined. "Give me twenty—no, ten. Give me ten minutes, then we go again."

Sidney lets out an embarrassing squeak then laughs heartily when Geno flips them around and starts peppering little kisses all over Sidney's face. "Oh, God. Geno, stop. Your beard tickles!"

Geno in turn kisses Sidney on the lips and the complain quickly melts into a long moan. Sidney doesn't think it was possible before, but it seems like they can actually go again despite the fact that they have both came not too long ago. Geno seems pretty determined to make good on his words, with him grinding down on Sidney and doing sinful things with his mouth. It awakens the hunger in Sidney and his previously tired body isn't so tired anymore. However, he pushes Geno away all too reluctantly and ends their foreplay prematurely.

"Wait. Wait, Geno. I—I need to say something."

"Ugh, you killing me, Sid." Geno whines out, panting, and rests his forehead against his. Sidney can't resist the puckered lips and tilts his chin up to steal a kiss from it.

"Just hear me out, okay?" Sidney smiles to himself as Geno mutters an 'okay' before he goes nuzzling into Sidney's neck, all the while murmuring his dissatisfaction in a mix of Russian and broken English. Sidney can't find it in his heart to chirp Geno of his childlike behaviour, because he finds it embarrassingly endearing. He soothes his hand down the back of Geno's head and plays with the his hair near the nape.

"I guess I wanna thank you for being so patient with me these past few weeks. I know it sucks that my brain decided to screw with me now but you were handling it so well, way better than I could ever ask of you. It must have really stressful to deal with me in the middle of the playoff, and I can only imagine how it feels to suddenly have a husband who doesn't remember anything about their time together." Sidney pauses to see if Geno has something to say to that, but Geno just buries his head deeper into the crook and wraps his arm tighter around Sidney's waist.

"But you keep surprising me by being so thoughtful and sweet. I just—" Sidney draws a long breath to calm the emotions that came up unannounced. "I just want you to know that I'm really happy that I get to start this new memory with you as my husband. And you know something else? You don't have to feel like you have to keep away from me. It doesn't matter if I remember about us or not because beyond all that, I think I have always been attracted to you, since the first day we met."

Geno lifts his head to look into Sidney's eyes, gaze piercing with such adoration and fondness. It is almost like Geno is confessing his feelings through his gaze, and Sidney is overwhelmed by the amount of love that he is receiving. Sidney winds his arms around Geno's neck and tugs him down for a kiss. It starts sweet—gentle swipes of lips against lips, once, twice before Geno delves his tongue into Sidney's mouth to deepen it. Sidney has never known such passionate kiss before this, and he surrenders himself into it completely and lets Geno take the lead.

Sometimes Sidney wonders if this is crafted by someone higher in the universe to fill up the emptiness in his heart, because he knows not of such happiness could exist in real life. He has someone who knows all of his quirks and accepts them without question. He has someone who chirps him relentlessly about his huge ass but still cook him his favourite pasta, a mountain of it. And it so happened that, that someone is Geno.

He thought about the possibility of maybe waking up one day and be heartbroken over losing it all. He thought about how devastated he would be, having to finally have a taste of such bliss and then be stripped away after. But even with that risk looming threateningly over his head, Sidney can't see himself trading it, for the alternative is ten times worse, because it means that he will not have any at all.

And the night ends with them snuggled closely under the cover, sharing body warmth and lazy kisses. Their hands wander with meaningful touches, coaxing quiet moans and short gasps little by little. And it is another twenty minutes before the quiet affair reach its pinnacle, and when it does, they murmur their 'I love you's during the throes of their pleasure against each others' mouth. And they lay in the bed, languidly with their limps entangled, and they stay that way until eventually, sleep finds them.

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#sidgeno #fanfiction #men's hockey rpf #Love Me If You Will #ariahearthockeywrites

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