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drabblesandimagines · 4 months

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Dove (part five)

Leon Kennedy x female reader - the slowest, slow burn I swear Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

You try your best to focus on show on the television – watching them take down a non-load bearing wall with sledgehammers in a somewhat poor technique - but you really wish you had your phone. This would be a perfect time for mindless scrolling through various feeds, rather than thinking of the handsome agent you’d just taken a nap on, apparently. You wonder if anyone’s texted you, tried to call only to be met with an automated voicemail message... unless the DSO have managed to get your phone to power on, teasing a few rings before they’re asked to leave a message.

You have friends to make plans with, of course you do, but the majority are spread country-wide now, have been for years since you finished college, so it’s not going to be strange if you haven’t replied to anyone for over 24 hours… No boyfriend to fret over your whereabouts either, your last relationship too long ago for any hurt feelings to remain.

And it’s definitely for the best that you don’t have any parents who will worry when you don’t check in.

Your mind drifts back to Leon. How long could this thing last? Say when they clear you – you can’t bear to think of the alternative of being accused of a BOW crime, you’d never see the light of day again, your name buried in a file never to be released - how long will it take to work out if your life is or remains in danger, and would he stay with you the entire time? Surely he has his own life to get on with, other responsibilities to the DSO than just a babysitter, probably got a partner at home too, though there was no ring that you saw. Probably wouldn’t wear one as an agent though, gives away too much about a personal life.

Besides, there were so many people in your office, would they really know if one person made it out alive? It’s not like you had seen anything of real value, or knew anything about the assailants, besides that they were murderous creatures… or so you thought. You deal with a lot of cases, is it possible that one of them traced the operation back and sought revenge?

If the painkillers hadn’t been wearing off, aches awakening in various parts of your body, you might’ve started pacing around the room for something else to do. This place could do with a bookshelf, you reason, or maybe people aren’t here long enough to read books? There was a pile of books on your night-stand, all in hopes of being read, which just reminds you that Hunnigan said they were going to send people to search your apartment. What for – a to-do list stuck to the fridge with a magnet with a singular bullet point of ‘betray US Government’?

She said there’d been a data breach too, so did someone let loose those things as a deadly distraction to get what they came for? And surely there was a back-up in a cloud or something. You hadn’t been privy to that side of the operation and if you’d started asking questions at any point, it would’ve looked suspicious.

No, you were just a good little intelligence agent, you clocked in and out on time, dutifully noting down observations, connecting the dots all day long, just wanted to make the world a little safer for everyone, but failed miserably at doing so for the people in your office.

And those things…

Are they what you’ve been working against all this time?

You shudder as you swear you can feel the way the its wet tongue wrapped around your arm, warm saliva against the prickly goosebumps on your skin in a firm grip, its teeth, the lack of eyes, how its body looked almost inside out, muscles and sinew…

You increase the volume on the television, praying the noise cancels out your thoughts and that Leon comes back inside soon.

Leon finishes his perimeter check once again in an even 25, satisfied there’s been no unwanted guests since his last round and confirming what he’d seen via the camera feeds. It’s coming up to 1700 now - he’ll need to make some sort of dinner for you to take your meds with, so realistically his 2000 self-imposed deadline for submitting his report to Hunnigan is not happening. He can throw them together pretty quickly– experienced agent that he is – but he knows his limits. Doesn’t exactly want to rush this, especially when he hopes it’s going to clear your name. He takes out his phone and types out a text.

Need to revise my report ETA. Midnight do?

He expects Hunnigan’s caller ID to flash up as soon as she’ll have read his text, but there’s nothing. Huh – must be wrapped up in something else. He repeats his whole garage routine, eyeing up the duffel bag he’d dumped on top of the dryer when he’d came out and sighs.

He's been in safe houses before - wasn't lying about that - just not with such pleasant company, nor anyone who really deserved it so far. His track run has always been Umbrella scientists who have suddenly developed a conscience, pleading for protection and a lenient jail sentence in return for information on the corporation, or other people involved in the production of BOWs. He's certainly not made the likes of them oatmeal in the morning, drizzled a smiley face in honey – what was he thinking, again? - lunch and dinner, washed and dried dishes, helped them changed, tucked them up in bed. Hell, one guy he’d made sleep on the floor cos he was such a jerk. They’d been sent to a studio apartment of all things and Leon had happily set himself up in the bed, dumping his duffel bag of weapons across the bedspread and sat there cleaning them all methodically, checking cartridges and glaring at the man he deemed a worthless piece of shit who was sat on the two-seater sofa, sweating buckets.

He picks up the duffel bag and moves to unlock the door. Once he's submitted the report and Hunnigan's searched your place, then he'll be able to drop a couple of the rules and…

And what, Kennedy? He scolds himself. Wishes he’d crossed paths with you at DSO HQ before on a day he was feeling confident enough to shoot his shot with a drinks and dinner invitation. Hunnigan’s right from this morning – he’s grown sweet on you particularly fast, but that’s something he’s managed to retain from his younger years, too easily a lovesick puppy for any woman who will entertain it, even after everything with Ada. But it’s a little different with you, just the way he recognizes that look in your eyes, the very one of guilt, disbelief and horror that he had when he looked in the mirror after getting out of Raccoon City and every mission since.

He finally heads back inside, locking the door back up securely again. You don’t look to have moved from your position on the sofa, still looking at the television but the volume’s increased - he’s sure if he were to ask about what was happening you wouldn’t have a clue. It’s only the day after, you’ll still be trying to process everything, all whilst being locked up in a safe house with a near enough stranger and away from all your home comforts.

He places down the duffel bag carefully in its usual position before slowing walking over, making sure his steps are a little heavier than usual, aware that you might be too wrapped up in your own thoughts to have heard him re-enter and he really doesn’t wanna make you jump, very aware of how on edge you’re still going to be.

Once he’s sure he’s in your peripheral vision, he waves – smooth, Kennedy – know he’s got a goofy-looking smile on his face as he drops his arm back to his side. “Er… I’m back.”

“Hi,” you can’t help but smile back at his awkward little half-wave. “Everything okay out there?”

“Yeah – all clear, as expected. You hungry? Thought I could whip up some dinner to go alongside your next dose of painkillers.”

“I think I could manage something.” Your appetite is still shy – managed half a sandwich at lunch and that was sitting a little heavy in your stomach, but you know that Leon’s not going to let you take medication again without some sort of food.

“Okay, lemme see what we’ve got.” He claps his hands together, heading back towards the kitchen. You wince a little as you turn in place to watch him rummage through the cupboards, trying to assemble a meal from what the DSO had packed up. About a moment or two later, he pops his head up above the counter. “How about pasta? I think I can put together a somewhat decent tomato sauce for it.”

“Pasta sounds good.” You get to your feet as he ducks his head back down, continues his rummage in the cupboards before placing various items out as he works it all out in his head. “I know I’m one-handed, but… can I do anything?”

He stands up then with a bag of pasta in hand, ready to protest when he takes another good look at you, standing awkwardly at the edge of the kitchen area, sees the tinge of frustration across your face about everything clear as day, obviously sick of the television for now and he can’t blame you - there’s nothing else to do here but sleep, eat and watch that.

“Yeah, actually,” he sweeps his hair out of his face and places down the pasta on the counter. “I think I can find something.”

20 minutes later, you’re stood at the hob, stirring Leon’s off-the-cuff tomato sauce – a can of chopped tomatoes, some peppers and herbs - to stop it from sticking to the bottom of the pot as the pasta bubbles away in another, all whilst he grates some cheese on the counter behind you. It’s the easiest job by far, you’re having to stir it oh so gently, lacking the other hand to hold the pot handle steady and you know it would probably be fine left alone to simmer, but it’s nice to feel like you’re contributing a little at last.

“How we doing over here?” Leon stands behind you, looks over your shoulder at his culinary creations.

“Okay, I think. It smells good.”

“Ah, trying to flatter the chef.” His watch beeps – a timer he’d set for the pasta. “Excuse me.”

You think he’s going to step forward to turn off the hob so you step back at the same time that he places a hand on your waist, thinking you were about to move off to the side. You bump into his chest – a reminder of how solid it had been when you’d taken that involuntarily nap on him earlier and Leon swallows down a nervous chuckle as your backside nestles for a moment against his crotch.

“Sorry, Dove, I-“

“Oh, sorry-“

The two of you apologise over each other, awkwardly, and you finally step to the side, Leon dropping his hand to swiftly turn the heat off the hob for both of the pots. “I… I think I’m good here – do you want to handle drinks?”

“Yeah, sure.” You duck your head down, swearing your face is now as red as the pasta sauce, and retrieve the glasses from the coffee table from earlier, refilling them with water from the kitchen tap and returning them back one by one, as Leon sets about draining the pasta and then combining the two.

You don’t sit yet and hang back, watching him dish up between two bowls before he slides on towards the end of the counter, followed by the plate of grated cheese. “Wanna do your own cheese too?”

“Yeah - thanks.” You walk forward and grab some of the cheese to sprinkle over the pasta. It feels nice to have some autonomy again, to be contributing in any sort of way and you think maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this awkwardness of the situation, even if it’s just through dinner…

Leon crouches down to open a cupboard and you hear him fiddle with the metal lockbox being unlocked as he retrieves your medication.

..maybe not.

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day! Part six.

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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piinfeathers · 3 months

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the scars we bare ch2

aaaaand here's part two. if you saw me promise this would be done on tuesday no you didn't <333 thank you to everyone who took the time to read this. it nearly killed me and i loved it

summary: emma swan came to the underworld with one purpose; to rescue the man she loved from hades' grip. and she would do anything, sacrifice everything in order to that happen. when hades offers her a deal, a test of their true love, she takes it. in the end though, the bargain might just take more for them than they have to give. S5B canon divergence

tw: minor moments of gore and torture, also brief mentions of abuse

✨ ch1 | Ao3 link ✨

Hades hadn’t lied about starting from the beginning. The memories they witnessed were, quite literally, some of the earliest moments of their lives. From infancy to childhood, the memories seemed to blur together. At times they watched together, both occupying the same head, witnessing old, long forgotten moments. Other times they were separated, both of them lost in the long, endless tunnel of sound and noise that led to yet another moment in time.

As the memories blurred together, one into the next, it occurred to Killian how similar their childhoods were. Aside from the time and setting, they could almost be confused for the same, miserable adolescence. The same empty bellies, the same too-cold nights, the same edgy fear of the too-large hands that reached out to slap or to hit. And sometimes, in the worst memories, the hands that would reach out and grab. The hands that would pet and coax, almost comforting. But even in the minds of the young children they knew not to trust them. So they ran. And when they couldn’t run, they fought. They bit and screamed and clawed until the large hands learned not to touch so easily.

Through it all, one key difference made itself apparent. The loneliness. Killian had felt small as a child, had felt fear and isolation, but never truly lonely, not when he had Liam. Liam who fought for him, who protected him, who held him through the worst of it. Emma had no one. She floated through her hopeless childhood completely and totally alone.

At times people would drift in, foster parents who promised to love her, friends who tried to get closer. But in the end, they left. They always left.

Memories of Ingrid and Lily seemed to blur together. The bright hopeful spark that this person, this bond, would be different. That they would choose her and mean it. And when their betrayals hit her, blindsided her defenses, it hardened her. She built walls around her heart so high no one would ever scale them again. Killian ached for her.

Through the bond he felt her, felt her presence, and tried to reach for her. He felt her hesitation, and imagined himself wrapping his arms around her. The feeling of her stilled, then softened, curling into him.

He’d spent nearly three centuries alone like that. It ate at a person. He couldn’t imagine a life that had known only that aching, hollow loneliness from the very beginning.

Eventually the memories slowed. They became mundane and repetitive. It felt as if they were watching days pass just for the sake of wasting time. Hades was toying with them, drawing out the memory spell to keep them there longer. Killian pushed against it.

That’s enough, he thought loudly inside his head. Do you hear me hades? I said that’s enough.

The memories broke apart, dropping them back into the middlemist field. Killian staggered, glaring at the god lounging in the chair. He had a drink now, a bright blue cocktail with a miniature umbrella sticking out from it. He toasted them with it and grinned.

“Enjoying the show?”

“You’ve made your point,” Killian snapped. “We don't need to drag this out.”

Hades' eyes grew sharp, focusing on something behind Killian. “Oh I don't know about that,” he said quietly.

Killian turned and stopped. Emma swayed behind him, her eyes unfocused, her face white. He rushed to her, his hand moving to her face, his hooked arm snaking around her when she faltered and nearly fell.

“Emma! Emma, look at me.”

Refusing to take his eyes off her, he snarled back at Hades. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“Just following the rules of our deal. Isn’t that right Emma?”

Emma groaned, trying to push herself free from Killian's hold, but his arms didn’t move.

“Killian, it’s ok,” she said with a croak in her voice. “I just need a minute.”

“What is he talking about? What does he mean ‘the rules of your deal?’”

Emma took a long shuddering breath and pulled herself upright, standing taller. Some colour returned to her cheeks and Killian cautiously let his grip on her relax.

“He told me that in order for him to trust me, to make sure that I would see this through and mean it, I'd have to put some of my magic into it.”

Killian felt dawning horror bleed from his chest and into his lungs.

“What does that mean?” he asked quietly.

She looked at him. “The memory spell he's using, it’s mine. I’m the one who cast it.”

There was a ringing in Killian’s ears, a shrill, staticky whine that made the world fade away for a moment. Her magic. They were standing inside her spell. He tried to think of how much power a spell of this size would take to keep going, and couldn’t conceive of it. Every moment that passed, ever second they stayed there, she was expending magic at an alarming rate. He could see it now, from the way her hands shook to how her skin looked thin enough to see through. It was devouring her. The magic was drinking her dry, hungry and unstoppable.

Hades let out a gleeful giggle and clapped his hands. “And there it is! I was wondering when you’d tell him.”

Killian heard the god of death move, and turned to watch him as he strutted closer. “A bit different when you’re not the dark one hmm? You’ll notice the magic hits just a liiiittle bit harder using light magic instead of all that infinite dark one mojo.”

“Go to hell,” Emma muttered, glancing back at Killian. “I'm ok. I swear I'm ok.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked, not quite able to keep the betrayal from his voice.

She looked at him for a long, heartbreaking moment. Something tragic flashed in her gaze, there and gone in seconds. “Would you have agreed if you knew?”

“No,” he said reflexively. The truth. He wouldn’t have. “But that was my choice to make Emma.”

She nodded “I know.”

"Can you end it? Call off the magic?"

Her head shook. "Not while I'm under the sleeping curse. As long as I'm asleep the magic keeps going until this is over."

Her words struck him in the chest, robbing the air from his lungs. Of course. This had been Hades' plan all along. To force her to burn herself out. The cruelty of reliving memories was just a bonus.

“Why?” he asked, “just tell me why.”

She frowned, looking up at him. “I wouldn't leave you here. I can't.”

She was going to kill herself for him. He knew it even before she answered. She’d die down here and he didn’t know how to stop her.

“You have to go back Emma. You need to figure out a way to call off this spell and you have to go home.”

“I can do this. Killian please-” her voice broke and Killian felt his resolve crumble. “Do you trust me?” she asked after a moment

He smiled even as his heart split in half. “With my life.”

Her answering smile could have lit the entire night sky. “Ok then. See this through with me. We can do this. Together.”

He wanted to say no. He needed to make her see. Did she even know? Couldn't she feel how much this spell was taking from her? But when she looked at him, when her chin raised and a light started to ignite behind her steady gaze, he knew he couldn’t stop her. Not yet, not now. But soon. Somehow, he would figure out a way to save her from herself.

As if caught in her current, he nodded at her mutely, and another door sprang into being beside them, swinging open and inviting them in. She took his hand again.

“It’ll be ok,” she said, a promise he knew she couldn’t keep.

When she stepped through he followed her, powerless to do anything but let himself fall down after her.

***

Emma was tired. And pissed. And sore. And so filled with guilt it nearly choked the life out of her. She’d lied to him. Again. He probably wouldn’t forgive her this time.

She’d live with it. Somehow, even if he walked away from her after this, if she managed to save him? It would be worth it.

They were falling again, she was holding his hand as the magic flowed around them. What he said earlier stuck with her. Hades was playing them. He wanted to drain her and let her die inside the sleeping curse. She realized that much. She needed to figure out a way to move this along. They needed a way out, and fast.

She tried to think, tried to feel for the edges of the magic. It was her spell damn it. If anyone knew a way out it would be her. But how-

She was thrown, full force into another memory before she had a chance to finish her thought.

In this one, Killian was back on the Jolly, in the captain’s quarters. A man with dark blonde curls stood behind the desk, his grin infectious. Emma felt the rush of love and relief at the sight of the man’s face. Liam. This must be Liam. She should’ve known from the smile. It was almost a twin to Killian’s.

“What now brother?” Killian asked.

“We reveal our king’s cowardice,” Liam announced, marching around the desk, grabbing his jacket.

Emma felt Killian's trust, his complete and total belief in his brother’s ability, and her heart hurt horribly.

They kept talking, making plans and speaking about the future. Overhead someone called to brace for landing and the ship shook beneath their feet. They grinned at each other and Killian moved to the window, glancing out at the waves, a sense of new found purpose lighting inside him. They were going to expose the king, become heroes. No one else had to die because of his treachery.

“What do you say Liam? Want some company when you report to the admiralty?” Killian grinned as he turned to Liam. Liam who was doubled over in pain. Liam whose face was turning ashen and grey.

Killian ran to him, grabbing for his brother, trying to pull him up. “No! Liam! Liam please!” he was begging, pleading to anyone who would listen for help

In his arms Liam gurgled, thin veins of inky black creeping across his face like curling spider limbs. Emma held on as Killian’s panic and grief crashed into her all at once, watching the life drain from his brother’s face. Killian’s voice sounded so tragically young when he begged for help, it nearly pulled her under.

How could one person bear it? she thought again. All this loss. How did he keep moving forward, carrying it all?

She wondered how much more there would be. Who else had he lost? What else had he sacrificed and bartered away? How much more would Hades force her to witness?

None of this was new to her. None of these memories revealed “the man Killian Jones really was.” She already knew damn well who he was, and her heart broke for him. For who he had been and who he was now.

She was done. This was over. This pointless test was ending. Now.

She flared out her power in her mind. She could feel the borders of the spell that trapped them, felt the solid walls of it. She imagined herself reaching out both hands and pushed. Hard.

She felt the bars of her cage start to give and pushed again, harder this time, imagining herself balling her hands into fists and slamming them against the wall again and again. Cracks started to form. The memory she was in faded away, Liam's body and Killian's mind floating back into the past where they belonged. Here, in the present, Emma Swan wrapped herself in her power like armour and pictured the face of the man she loved.

And punched her fist straight through the spell, shattering it.

***

Killian let the memory pull him where it wanted. He hoped it would be over quickly. He still needed to figure out a way to save Emma from herself. The answer, of course, came to him almost instantly. There was one way to show Emma the man he was. The man he hid from her. He had to show her the truth of his past. She would be horrified, she would leave and it would break whatever was left of the heart she had put back together. But she would be safe. She would go back to her life and she would love again. She would move on.

The thought of it. Of Emma Swan moving on without him, of her loving someone new almost destroyed him. But he knew deep in his bones that he would tear himself apart for her happiness. He had done it before and would do it again.

The memory formed around him as his decision was made. He glanced around. Emma stood alone in a dark back alley. Nervous excitement, and youthful joy crowded her mind. She was happy, so dizzyingly happy it made her head spin.

She was looking at a gold wrist watch, two sizes too big on her wrist and frowned, nerves started to edge their way into her excitement. She reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone. Baelfire- No, Neal’s face, filled her mind. He was late. He was supposed to be there and he was late.

She dialed the phone and held it to her ear, frowning when the automated voice told her the number had been disconnected. The hell? Had he forgotten to pay the damn phone bill again?

“Damn right there’s an error,” she muttered, starting to dial again.

“Unless he set you up,” a loud voice called from behind her.

She turned and froze at the sight of the gun pointed at her. Icy, numb panic flooded through her, made her heart stop. When the cop told her to put her hands on her head she obeyed robotically, not understanding. Neal? Where was Neal?

The cop was talking but Emma could barely hear him over the rush in her ears. He was full of shit, she was thinking. He didn’t have anything on her, and she told him as much.

“Possession of stolen goods,” he said, gesturing to the watch with the butt of his gun. “Your boy set you up.”

Emma could only stare. Neal . she thought. Just Neal , over and over.

“He called in a tip, told us to take a look at the surveillance footage at the train station.”

The words hit her like a physical blow. He’d betrayed her. She’d loved him, gave him everything she had, and he’d betrayed her. Cold, aching misery filled her head. Killian felt it, letting it wash over him. She was alone again and all he could do was watch.

When the cop turned her, snapped the cuffs of her wrists, a numb fury filled her, clouded her mind and settled deep in her bones until walls made of steel formed around her heart. Never again. She would never let herself believe in love. Love made you stupid. It used you up and softened you until you were helpless. Never again.

Killian let the memories move around him, too tired to fight them. So much hurt filled his head, both his and hers, like old scar tissue, hard and calloused. Had love ever come into her life without strings? Without hurt? The unfairness of it made his blood boil.

When the memory finally stilled, she was in a police station. The officer across from her asked her her age. In a quiet, barely there voice she answered; “Seventeen.”

“Got a kid your age,” the cop said flatly and Emma didn’t know how to respond.

Killian tried to focus on the memory, but everything felt blurry. Time seemed to move too fast and too slow all at once, sliding around him.

“Killian.”

Inside Emma's mind, he froze. The memory around him came to a grinding halt, nothing moving.

“Killian, we need to go.”

He turned, no longer in Emma's head, but in his own body, sitting inside her frozen memory. Emma, his Emma, stood in front of him, her hand extended.

“C’mon,” she said, “This way, we need to go before Hades finds us.”

He was on his feet, hand in hers and moving before he could ask any questions. She led him to a door with an exit sign above it and pushed through. Instead of the back street he’d been expecting, Granny’s dinner sat before him.

“Emma what-?"

“Just keep moving,” she snapped, breaking into a run.

They ran together through another door, this one leading them to Mary Margret and David’s loft. He tried to make sense of what he was seeing but Emma was pulling him forward still. They headed through another door into the cabin of the Jolly Roger. Then through another into their bed chambers from Camelot. She led him through door after door, all places he recognized, places they had shared together, until finally they crashed through back into the middlemist field.

It was exactly the same as the field they had started in, only it was night time now. They were dressed as they had been in Camelot, she in her white gown and him in his black coat.

She gasped when they came to a halt, stumbling and nearly falling. He caught her, cradling her head as he brought them both to the grass.

“Emma!” her eyes were closed, her breathing ragged. “Emma, what did you do?”

“Bought-” she took a shaking breath. “Bought us more time.”

She was still for a moment before opening her eyes. “You were right, Hades is toying with us and I'm tired of it.”

She moved to sit up and Killian saw her arms were trembling even as her shoulders straightened and her jaw set with determination.

“I’m done screwing around. We’re going to finish his stupid test, and then we’re going home.”

“Emma,” he dropped his forehead against hers. Cold sweat dampened her skin. “Emma, this has to end. You can’t keep going like this.”

He felt her nod. “Agreed. That’s why we’re only going to important memories, ones that-”

“No more bloody memories!” he bellowed, whipping his head up and gripping her shoulder. “This ends now. Call hades, call whoever. But tell them it’s over before you kill yourself.”

“No.”

Her one word answer made his teeth grit, fear and anger nearly blinding him. “I won’t sit here and let you die for me Emma.”

She was still for a moment, studying him. “You’ve already died for me three times, Killian. I'm not stopping.”

He reared back as if she’d hit him. “So what? This is payback? Retribution? I die so you have to as well?”

“No!" the colour was back in her face now, her eyes alive and burning. “No this is me doing what I have to to save the man I love. And I will.”

He shook his head, raising to his feet. “No. Emma, no. I'm not worth this. I'm not worth losing your life over.”

She stood, the fine tremor in her limbs gone now, a halo of light magic behind her. “I’m the one who gets to decide that. Killian-” she broke off, then tried again. “Killian, I'm sorry I didn't tell you the whole truth. I should have and I'm sorry. But I am telling you now. I'm seeing this through. Because you’re worth it.”

“Enough!” his shout echoed across the field, shook the grass around their feet. “You want to see what kind of man you’re trying to save? The man you want to die for? Here.”

He thought of it, the worst things he had ever done, every unspeakable act he had ever committed and formed them into one solid, writhing mass in his mind. Inside the heart of the memory spell, the magic grabbed hold of him, greedily drinking in his shame. A door sprang into life between them.

“Here, walk through here and see.”

She looked at him. One long, horrible silent moment passed as time held its breath. Then, she turned, opened the door and walked through.

***

There was no tunnel of light, no waiting, no falling. The memories started all at once. Killian with a sword in his hand, laughing, blood spraying on his face as he drove the blade through another man. Killian, with his hand wrapped around an insubordinate crew member's throat. The man was begging for mercy but Killian only squeezed tighter, his rage cold and unforgiving. Another man on his knees, pleading with Killian, telling him of the family who needed him, before Killian ran him through.

The memories felt sharp, pointed. They bit into her skin and tore at her, shredding her clothes and ripping her hair. All of it ruthless, unforgiving. At the heart of them, Killian stood with his heart completely black and hardened, a vicious grin on his face. The deadliest pirate of the seas. Revenge and blood and pain all muddied together in a blinding red haze around her.

He wore rings on his fingers, of the men he killed. He remembered all of their faces. In the darkness of his cabin he tortured himself with their memories. Of the feeling of ending their lives. He'd felt nothing while he did it, and yet in the quiet of his own mind he sliced himself open again and again at the sight of the rings.

A bastard. A miserable, cruel bastard. He loved it. And he hated it.

Emma sat in the corners of his mind and watched as the centuries moved in a blur. The heart inside Killian's chest turned hard as stone. Slowly, the killings grew less vicious. They became methodical. Practiced.

Faces blurred past, cursing him, and he welcomed it. He was cursed.

Every part of him grew colder, harder, crueler. He no longer felt any sense of justice from the death around him. He felt nothing, only a bleak, yawning emptiness that he let fester and rot until there was nothing of him left. A living corpse that bayed to the sky for revenge. A man made of decay.

***

In the field, cradling her body, Killian waited for Emma to awaken. When her eyes slowly fluttered, he braced himself, waiting for the hatred in her eyes, the revulsion. She blinked and stared up at him for a long moment. Then the most horrifically beautiful sight passed through her eyes; forgiveness.

“Killian,” she murmured, her hand reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He found it hard to breathe. A lump had formed in his chest, growing hard and sharp.

Emma pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around him. “It's ok,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He pulled away from her and just stared. “No. Emma no-you can’t-”

“Just shut up,” she said, her eyes closing as she rose to her feet. He followed her, his arms ready to catch her. She sounded so tired and it terrified him.

“Was that it? Was that supposed to prove something to me?” her eyes opened and the green depths were so clear and understanding it completely shattered him. “It was a good try, pretty rough stuff. But Killian? Did you think I didn't know about your past?”

“I-”

“I know who you are. I know who you were then and I know who you are now.”

“Emma please, don’t do this.”

“I love you Killian. I love the man you are right now. And that’s the man I'm going to save.”

Laughter formed in his chest, rough and malformed, it thrust out of his throat in a harsh burst.

“You can’t Emma, it’s too late, don’t you see that? Please. You need to let me go,” he looked down at the field of flowers beneath their feet then back up at her. In her white gown, lit by moonlight, she seemed to glow. “This is where it should have ended the first time love. Where it was always meant to end. Please just listen to me. You can’t stay here and die for me. I’m telling you now, I’m not worth your salvation. I’m not worth your life.”

She shook her head in short, frustrated jerks. “And I’m telling you, that you’re wrong.” Her hands lifted, framing his face. Hot, angry tears forming in her eyes, shining like burning stars. “I’m not offering you salvation Killian. You already earned that all on your own. I’m offering you a life, a home. With me.”

He smiled, trying to trace every line of her face, trying to memorize the curve of her cheek and the way her eyes lit with emerald flames. He wanted to burn her memory into his mind, how she looked at this exact moment, full of righteous purpose. His Swan.

“I know you love me Emma. And I know you feel you need to save me. But you can’t. Whatever misplaced guilt that’s keeping you here, please just forget about it. It’s alright,” his hand reached up to touch the ends of her hair, running the strands of them through his fingertips. “It will be alright.”

“Is that what you think?” she jerked free of his hold, took a step back. Whatever exhaustion had clouded her expression before was burned away, replaced with something hot and furious. “That I came all the way down here, let myself get cursed, put myself through all this, because I feel guilty?”

“Emma-”

“Well guess what? I do! I do feel guilty. I got you killed in Camelot and then I brought you back and cursed us all. And you know what? I'd do it again. I’d do this a hundred times over and then a hundred more times because when it comes to you Killian Jones? I'm selfish. Because. You. Are. Mine.”

She punctuated each word in short, clipped bursts that hit him like cannon fire to the chest.

“You’re mine,” she repeated, taking a step towards him, invading his space. “And I’m yours. And I'm not leaving you down here. I'm not leaving you with Hades. Because I love you. I love you so much and I'm bringing you home. We. Are going. Home.”

She was swaying, magic seemed to frame her like a halo. He couldn’t look away. “You told me, back in Storybrooke when I was the dark one, that it didn’t matter what I had done, that you still loved me. Well guess what? It's a two way street. Whatever you’ve done Killian? It doesn’t matter. I love you. I love you as the man you are now. The man who did those things and who still changed. They’re a part of you. And I love every single part.”

Her eyes were burning. He stared at them, transfixed. She had always been like golden sunlight to him. Now she was like a supernova, lighting him on fire.

“We are going to get through this together. And then you’re going to kiss me, break this stupid sleeping curse, and we’re going to go home.”

She sounded so certain, he didn’t know what to say. His mouth moved to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. What could he even say? That this wouldn’t work? That if he was right then this whole endeavor was doomed? That while they loved each other, it might not be true love?

“What?” she asked, searching his face. Slowly, a dawning look of realization came over her face. “You don’t think it will work. The kiss.”

“It isn’t just that, Emma-” he swallowed around a lump in throat. “Emma I love you, and I know you love me. But true love is the rarest magic there is. What if we’re wrong?”

“We’re not. I know it. I know what we have, I know it’s true love.”

Her confidence crashed over him like a wave. He wanted to drown in it. He wanted her belief, needed it so badly at that moment. But he just couldn’t.

“You still don’t believe me,” she said, studying him. “Ok then. Here. I’ll show you”

He saw her raise her hand, and dread filled him, knowing what she was about to do. Calling another door now would drain what was left of her magic and probably kill her.

“Emma don't! You can’t-”

Her hand flicked once, a surge of power snaking out like a ribbon of smoke, forming another door. She stood for a beat, then staggered. He cursed as he caught her, his arm circling her as her legs gave out and she fell into him.

“There,” her voice was barely audible as she jerked her chin toward the newly formed door. “Let's go. You’ll see what I mean.”

Annoyance, terror, and misery surged through him all at once. Her face was too pale, her fingertips cold where they touched his arm. They didn’t have time for this. But as he looked into her face, saw the determination in her eyes even under half closed lids, he knew. There was only one way forward.

“When this is over,” he said carefully, bending down to pick her up even as she huffed a protest. “If by some miracle we make it out, you’re going to bed for two weeks. I'm locking the door and throwing the phones away. Understood?”

She grumbled even as her head lolled against his chest. “If we get out of this, I'm sleeping for a month.” she muttered.

“Deal.”

Her face brightened with the ghost of a smile as the door opened and he carried her across.

***

The memories started so gently, inviting him now, rather than dragging him. Inside them, he could feel Emma beside him, her presence like a steady heartbeat, guiding him. He held onto her, felt her grip him back, and let them both fall into the past together.

They were alone, in his cabin below the deck of the Jolly. He was stretched out beside her, asleep on the too small bunk. Through Emma’s eyes, he watched her reach out and brush the fringe of his hair away from his face. Love, a constant, drumming, beating force inside her heart, bloomed up and spilled over her. In the privacy of his room, where no one could see, she let the tears sneak into the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t known it could feel like this. That love could be simple sometimes, that it could be peaceful. Killian made loving him so easy that it had almost blindsided her a few weeks ago when she realized what she had been feeling. She loved him. Of course she loved him.

There were times it nearly overwhelmed her. Even thoughts of him were enough to have the feeling flood though her, washing her in the blinding glow of it. She hadn’t felt love like this, not once in her life. She’d thought she had, thought she knew everything love had to offer and decided it wasn’t worth the hassle. But god. For Killian? She would do anything, give anything for this feeling. She would have loved him for free. She didn’t know how not to.

In the memory, past-Killian’s eyes fluttered. He groaned something in his sleep, turning to her, reaching for her. He was always doing that. She wondered if he knew. She moved her head to rest it on his chest, felt the steady beat of his heart and grounded herself with it. And when she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help the smile that grew on her lips.

The memory blurred, winding around them. Killian felt helpless to stop it. They were at Granny’s, sitting together at a booth. He was making her laugh about something, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. The bright glow of her love for him was like a banking fire, strong and steady. When he turned to look at her, when she saw in his eyes the love he felt for her like an answer to her own, it took her breath away, the love inside her chest growing into an inferno. She knew he loved her. She could feel it in every moment he spent with her. Killian Jones loved her so much it practically shone out from him and bathed her in the warmth of it.

It scared her at times, being loved so strongly. She wasn’t sure anyone had ever loved her this much. She didn’t think anyone ever would again.

More memories formed, all blurring over one another. They were in the car, Killian had brought her coffee and remembered to include extra sugar packets. She’d kissed him like they were teenagers making out in the backseat. Then they were at the station together, going through paperwork. Emma had shivered and Killian had thrown his coat over her shoulders without looking up, the act almost second nature to him. She thought her heart might have burst open in that moment.

Killian wanted to stay in these moments, wanted to live in them as long as he could. But they were moving him, gently guiding him, and he let himself be pulled along.

They were on her bed in the loft. She was on top of him, dizzy, joyful relief making her giddy. He was alive. She had watched him die in another realm and here he was. Alive.

She loved him so much at that moment and it nearly paralyzed her. She had almost lost him without telling him, almost lost her chance to say it out loud, to make it real. And the idea of that terrified her even more. She should say it, now while they were alone, while they had this time. In his eyes she could see he knew, he knew the words she wanted to say, could feel his anticipation.

He loved her, but he hadn’t told her. He hadn’t needed to of course, she already knew. But still he had held off, waiting for her to make the first move. He knew her better than anyone else, and he knew she would run if he moved too fast. So he waited for her. He was waiting now.

The words were there, ready, waiting to come out. And she couldn’t say them.

If she told him, it would become something else. It would be out there, in the open, for anyone else to see. In this moment, her love, this perfect, precious feeling, was only theirs. It belonged to only them. And she wanted to protect it, keep it safe. At least for a little while longer.

She would tell him. Soon. She would sit him down and tell him the words and make everything real. But for now? For now all she wanted to do was hold him. To feel the weight and the warmth of him beneath her. To sit in the feeling of his unspoken love for her, just a minute more.

Killian’s heart clenched, hard. Inside the frozen moment he felt Emma, his Emma, press a kiss to his face. Sorry, she thought, and he heard it inside his head. I’m sorry Killian.

There was nothing for her to be sorry about. She loved him. He adored every bloody inch of her and in return? She loved him back so fiercely he was nearly blown down from the force of it.

He tried to imagine himself holding her, pulling her close. Was there more? More quiet memories like this? Full of love and endless happiness? He thought he’d like to see them.

But slowly, the memories started to fade, the colours running, the sound quieting. All around them, the light dimmed, and the magic ended.

***

Emma, he thought. Emma.

She had been right all along. It was true love. How could it not be? How could this feeling be anything less than true love? He woke in the field, his heart full, turning to reach out for her.

She lay in the grass beside him, unmoving.

For one awful, terrible second, Killian could only stare. Her face was too white, the skin of her eyelids a pale purple, her lips blue. She wasn’t breathing.

“No.” The word came out as a whisper. “Emma no.”

He moved mechanically, his arms jerky, his breathing shallow. No she couldn’t be. He had just been with her, in the memory. She’d been alive and had kissed him, she was-

Her whispered words came to him, unbidden. I’m sorry Killian. What had she been apologizing for?

“No.” He repeated the word. “No, no, NO, NO!”

He touched her cheek and nearly flinched back. Her skin was frozen. Terror built up in him in a frenzy, a dull whine building in his head. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t.

He pulled her to him, his movements gentle, like she might shatter in his hold. Her head lolled to the side, her arms heavy and dragging, a dead weight at her sides. Something primal beat through his veins, a screaming, gnawing terror that bordered on hysteria. She was not dead. They had not done all this, come this far, for her to die.

He pressed his ear to her chest and nearly sobbed when he heard a heartbeat. It was sluggish, but it was there.

“Emma please, you need to wake up.” He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb across the icy chill of her skin, trying to press some colour into it. “I need you to wake up. Please-” his last word broke on a strangled plea, tears filling his vision.

A crack of magic snaked through the air and a door exploded into life several feet away from him. Hades burst through, his face a mask of pure rage.

“You little-” he hissed. He came to a halt at the edge of the field, his snarl freezing at the sight of Emma in Killian’s arms.

“Well now. Isn’t this something?” A cruel, vicious grin split his face. “This looks almost familiar doesn’t it? Killian Jones, holding the body of the woman he couldn’t save.”

His words bounced off Killian, unheard. He was too deep inside his own churning panic. She was fading, every second they spent here, she was slipping away. There was only one thing left he could think to do.

“Emma,” he murmured, brushing the hair from her face. “If you can hear me, please. Come back to me.”

He cupped her face and lifted it gently. From behind him he heard Hades shout.

“NO! DON’T YOU DARE-”

Killian pressed his lips to Emma’s.

And the world exploded.

***

Emma had seen true love magic before. She’d felt it herself when Henry had nearly died in her arms. The raw power of it had taken her breath away. But it was a different feeling altogether to be the one receiving it. To be kissed by her true love. It felt like coming home. It felt like love. It felt like everything.

Every moment together, every lingering thought, every second she had loved and been loved by Killian Jones crystallized into one perfect, all consuming force of magic that flowed all at once into her body. It ran down her boneless arms, flowing into struggling lungs, and filled her with a warmth and a light so full and strong it felt like being lit from within. And when she started to wake, when the sleeping curse snapped apart and her eyes flew open, she swore she could taste rum and sea salt in the air.

Killian’s face floated in the space above her, his wide eyes shining as his mouth hung open in an expression Emma could only describe as awe.

“Told you,” she said with a smile, her tired eyes still half drooping. “True love’s kiss. Works every time.”

He let out a watery laugh, dropping his forehead to hers. “Aye that you did. Should have known you’d be right.”

She hummed a weary sound of pleasure, even as her exhausted body throbbed like a bad toothache. Her fingers moved up to thread their way through his hair. “Wanna see if we can do it again?”

His breath fanned across her cheek as he huffed out a laugh. “May have delay that love. First,” he glanced up. “I believe we should figure out where exactly we are.”

Emma frowned as things slowly started to come back into focus. White, glowing light seemed to surround them from everywhere, and when she tried to slowly pull herself up, the floor beneath her felt smooth and warm to the touch.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she said as she looked around. It almost resembled a hallway. The widest and most expensive hallway she’d ever been in. It had golden marble floors and walls, and impossibly tall, carved column pillars that held up a domed ceiling. It rose so high above them that they had to crane their heads all the way back to see it.

“Another memory?” she asked him.

“Not one of mine.”

“Well it’s not mine, I think I would’ve remembered this place.” she said, trying to squint up at the airy, arched ceiling.

“If you’re both done laying around,” a voice called from behind them. “The way out is over there.”

Emma nearly jumped as Killian's arms tightened around her, both of them quickly turning to look at the woman seated at the far end of the hall who hadn’t been there a moment ago. She sat, half sprawled on a stone bench draped with spotted furs, a massive bow between her bent knees that she was trying to restring. Her copper skin seemed to glow faintly as she pulled the string taught and glanced up at them, clearly annoyed. Emma tried not to tense when she noticed the intense yellow of her eyes, or the way her pupil seemed to lock onto them like a hawk.

“Well?” she asked again, jerking her chin towards the other end of the hall. “Go on, you can’t stay here forever.”

“Ah, where exactly?” Emma stuttered as Killian helped her to her feet.

The strange woman with the bird eyes waved her hand, dismissing them. “Just ask one of the others, I'm busy here.”

“One of the others…?” Killian murmured, trailing off as they both turned.

Dozens of bodies suddenly moved around them, all of them with deep skin that held the same faint glow as the woman, and all draped in loose, airy fabrics cinched at the waists. Some slowed to stare at them, their smiles warm but puzzled. Others ignored them completely, pushing past with somewhere else to be.

“So I guess we just,” Emma gestured forward. “Find the exit.”

“It would appear that way,” Killian said with a frown as his hand found hers, pulling her closer.

“Are they..? I mean do you think we’re in-?”

“I don't think it would be wise to ask that question,” Killian said in a hushed tone, keeping his eyes lowered. “I have a distinct impression that we aren't allowed to stay here very long.”

Emma tried not to stare as they moved past the impossibly beautiful masses, even when she felt the force of their power brushing against her senses. The sudden, overwhelming urge to not draw attention to themselves, took over her, and she tried to shrink.

“Up there,” she whispered to Killian as she pointed to a spot where the hallway opened up and forked off in two different directions. “Let’s just pick one and hope the way out is somewhere along there.”

He nodded, gripping her hand tighter. As they got closer, they veered left, away from the crowd of people, and down another hallway. This was once smaller than the first, and quieter, but still managed to tower over them.

“If we get lost here…” Emma said after a moment.

“Let’s hope very hard it doesn’t come to that.” Killian said tightly, pulling her through an arched passageway. “I imagine this isn’t a place they allow you to overstay your welcome.”

They moved into a massive room, the floor curving down towards an enormous raised platform that held a throne made of pulsing, molten gold. On it, a bearded man, nearly three times their size, towered over them. His fingers drummed against the arms of the chair, sending sparks of lightning shooting and dissipating into the air.

“Welcome heroes,” he said, his voice echoing and deep. “I was wondering when you would arrive.”

Killian and Emma stood frozen, awestruck. His eyes were a burning gold and so bright they felt hot on her face. Emma's own eyes watered with the effort of looking directly at them. He smiled at them, his teeth blinding white against the dark bronze of his glowing skin.

“You have faced your trial with great bravery I see.”

“I-ah thank you. We appreciate that,” she murmured, at a loss for what else to say. “Are you-? I mean is this-?”

He leaned forward, his attention on them scalding, like the heat of the sun beating down on them. Emma nearly felt herself take a step back, but stopped when Killian’s arm curved around her waist, holding her up.

“What Emma means is,” Killian glanced at her, his smile tight, his eyes slightly too wide. “What might we call you?”

The man reached a massive hand up, his fingers stroking the thick, dark curls around his chin. “I have many names, given to me by many people. Although, I believe the one you may know me as, is Zeus.”

“Oh.” Emma said in a whisper, unable to stop herself. Zeus. Of course. He was certainly… bigger than the other gods they’d seen.

“I’ve been watching you two as you embarked on my brother’s trials. That was quite the clever loophole to his test, little Swan,” he said, inclining his head towards her.

“Your brother?” she blinked, glancing at the crackling electricity arcing across his knuckles, then back at his sun lit face. “I can uh- see the resemblance.”

His laughter was a boom of sound that made Emma’s ears ring.

“Hades spends too long below ground,” Zeus said. “I keep telling him he should get out more, put some life back into his cheeks.”

Emma smiled and nodded, suddenly wondering if she was still caught in the dream realm. Was this really happening? Was she making small talk with the king of the literal gods? Beside her, she could feel how tense Killian stood, every line of his body pulled tight.

“You look distressed Killan Jones,” Zeus said. “I would think meeting a god would not affect you so, having met two of my brothers so far.”

Two? When the hell had he met another one? If they made it out of this without being melted into puddles, she would have to ask him about that.

“It’s not that,” Killian said, his voice deceptively calm, a charming smile on his face. “I just worry about overstaying our welcome here, as honoured as we are to be here.”

Zeus leaned back on his throne. He was enjoying this. For the time being at least.

“You two have fought well today. True heroes, both of you are welcome in my halls.”

“Thank you, that is a great honour indeed,” Killian said, his voice growing slightly sharp.

Emma could feel panic start to rise in her. They could stay here forever if they weren’t careful, talking in circles with a god who seemed in no hurry to let them leave.

“Is that why we’re here? Because we passed the trial?” she looked at Killian, held his gaze. “Did we win?”

“Well that depends,” Zeus said, his voice like heavy stones rolling down a mountain.

“Depends on what?” she asked cautiously, her tone holding none of the tremors she felt in her limbs.

“Depends on you, hero born of love and magic. Do you believe you have passed the trial? Do you believe you know now what kind of man Killian Jones really is?”

Emma felt like time held its breath. This was it. This was the sort of thing they wrote legends about wasn’t it? Trials set by the literal gods to test heroes? Everything that happened now rested on her shoulders. No pressure.

“Like I already told Hades earlier, there wasn’t any need for a test,” she said after a beat. “I already know what kind of man he is. And I was right.”

She turned to look at him and saw he was already facing her, his face filled with love and awe at the sight of her. “Well it’s true,” she said, low enough that only he could hear.

Zeus's laugh was booming. Emma tried not to wince as her ears throbbed. She glanced back at the king of the gods, her eyes going about as high as they dared without looking directly into his molten stare, and landing somewhere on his chin.

“WELL SPOKEN LITTLE SWAN!”

Emma swore her knees almost buckled beneath his praise, but still managed to nod her thanks

“I bear witness to you both. Emma Swan;” his enormous hand swept towards her. “Saviour of magic and of her people. And you Killian Jones; Hero of the Saviour.”

Emma thought she heard all the air shoot out of Killian at once, the title landing squarely on his shoulders and nearly taking him out at the knees. She gave his hand a reassuring pat. It was a good name. She would remember that.

“Thank you Zeus,” she said finally, nodding her head to him. “We’re ah- We’re both honoured.”

Killian stood still beside her, and she turned to look at him. As if drawn by her attention, he turned away from the king of gods, and leaned into her. His arms rose, circling her waist, pulling her closer.

“I will tell my brother the trial is over; you’ve both passed.” Emma could hear the grin in his voice. “I’m sure Hades will be most pleased.”

Emma doubted that. She just hoped they were both far the hell away when he heard the news.

“Are we…I mean. Are we free to go?” she looked up at him, trying not to squint as she met his stare, even when tears started to form in her eyes. “Can we go home now?”

Zeus smiled and it was like watching the sun rising between mountain peaks, the light of it so brilliant and overpowering it left spots in her vision.

“Of course,” he murmured. Behind him, a passageway opened, forming between the towering columns. White, brilliant light spilled from it, as warm and welcoming as a homecoming. “You have my blessing. Well met heroes.”

They both nodded, moving towards the door with the warmth of his stare on their backs. When they walked to the passage, hands held, Killian turned to her, his face shining. “You did it Swan.”

She gripped him, pulling him to her. “We did it. Now,” she smiled, a heavy mass buried deep in her chest finally releasing its grip on her and falling away. “Let’s go home.”

As they stepped into the light together and the magic curled around them, their heads tilted together, their lips meeting. A bright light, shining and radiant, erupted from inside them. The power of it shimmered, colour and magic spiraling together like jeweled starlight, holding a world of promise and the faint scent of middlemist blooms.

#captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #cs fics #captain swan fanfic #cs fanfics #cs ff #steph writes

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the-true-brat-princess · 4 months

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You're in the Wind, I'm in the Water CH 2

Aemond Targaryen x OC Velaryon

Chapter Summary: Saera Rhae sees her family for the first time in months, under seemingly happy circumstances, a Winter Tournament! But after getting in trouble with Rhaenyra and Alicent, she wonders how happy the reunion will actually be.

Word Count: 8320

Tags: Slow Burn, Friends to Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Canon Rewrite: The Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen Era, Canon - Book: Fire and Blood & House of the Dragon (TV) Combination, Period-Typical Sexism, Loss of Innocence, Father-Daughter Relationship, Family Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Doomed by the Narrative, Survivor Guilt

Previous Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/the-true-brat-princess/728558518189309952/youre-in-the-wind-im-in-the-water-hotd-fanfic?source=share

Chapter 2

Visenya rolled her head to look at her, her hair looked yellow against the pure white ground; Saera’s was dark grey. Saera took a deep breath of the cold air above her, watching dainty snowflakes drift from the bright sky and melt into their flushed cheeks.

Visenya’s gloved hand closed around her friend’s. She could feel the eternal warmth her Targaryen cousins seemed to carry sink into her skin. “What do you think they are doing in there now? Reading musty books by the fire?”

Saera looked at her; a curious smile on her face. “I believe the princes are learning history, and poor Helaena is stuck in the etiquette lesson you dragged me out of.”

“And aren’t you glad I did?” the princess teased, sitting up. Snow fell out of her hair, leaving a patch of dull grass underneath her. “Could you truly stand another day of Lady Redwyne droning on and on about the ‘proper fork for fish’ and the ‘way to bow to members of the court’?”

She laughed, loud enough to startle the crows nesting in the red walls. “Visa, can you with any confidence tell me which goblet is meant for sweet wine and which for sour?”

“It is not sour, Saera Rhae,” she mocked their teacher’s voice. “It is dry.” She let out an exaggerated groan and made an ugly face. “I would rather the Queen attend to these lessons, as miserable as she can be-”

“Hush yourself,” she whispered, peeking around the large trunk of the Godswood tree. looking for the guards that typically lingered in the courtyard. “You know better.”

“Iā dārilaros hen dārion iksan se hae nyke kostilus kesan ȳdragon (I am a princess of the realm and I will speak as I please),” she grumbled.

“Ao mivojughagon. Daor iksan (You forget. I am not),” Saera sat up, readjusting herself amongst the roots, pulling her dark blue coat closer to herself. “Besides, between your mother and the Queen, we have unending lessons in a day. I am not sure why we have to listen to such a dull old woman. At least the Queen has taught me how to sew and the Princess has taught me to curtsy.”

“Do you think we will be so dull when we grow old?”

Saera wrinkled her nose. “I couldn’t imagine being so passionate about the state of a teacup, our ancestors would balk.” She laid her head across Visenya’s lap, her wet curls soaked the wool of the princess’s cape. Her friend’s hand fell into place on her head, smoothing over her forehead. “Why, your namesake might even rise from the ashes to chastise you herself.”

She let out an unladylike snort. “I couldn’t bear it. She always seemed so frightening in the stories.”

“I could protect you,” Saera chuckled, twisting apart a blood red leaf that had fallen onto her chest.

“You would defend me from a ghost?”

She grinned. “I would certainly try.”

Visa opened her mouth to argue, but a door slam jarred them both into silence. “Visenya,” her mother called, her voice echoed across the garden. She was angry, likely because this was not the first time the girls had snuck away from their duties. Saera sat up, pulling herself and Visa closer to the trunk of the tree. A knobbled, stained face was between them. She had to cover her mouth to keep herself from giggling while Visenya silently mocked her mother. “Visenya, come here this instant.”

They looked at each other, before they both shook their heads and pressed their backs fully against the tree. There were a few moments of silence, even the crunching of boots could not be heard. Saera poked her head out for a second, seeing Rhaenyra’s back, bundled in her blood red cape. She ducked back, holding her finger to her lips.

It was Harwin that found them not a second later. “They’re here, Princess,” he called. His large hand closed around their arms, dragging them away from the haven of the tree and down into the snow covered garden. Rhaenyra crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her daughter.

“Well?” she asked, giving the girls a beat to answer for themselves.

Visenya looked at her boots, knowing they were not going to get away with it this time. “It is the first snow of the season, muña (mother).”

The Princess let out a disgusted laugh. “And before that it was a full moon, and before that there were kittens in the kitchens. How many times must I tell you? You cannot leave your lessons.” She pinched her nose. “Visenya. Return to your quarters. You are not to see Alleria for a fortnight-”

“Mother, that is not fair. You have said a dragon and it’s rider cannot be-”

She held up her hand to stop her daughter. “A fortnight. And you will be bound to your books, everytime you are not will be an additional day. You have much to catch up on,” she said. “Ser Harwin, please ensure my daughter goes where she is supposed to be, and her maid washes and changes her for her lessons with the Septa.”

Harwin motioned for Visenya to walk before him. She opened her mouth in protest, but with a final withering look from her mother, she accepted her fate and returned to the castle.

For a fleeting moment, Saera thought she was going to slip away without punishment. Until Rhaenyra’s lilac eyes fell on her. She bit her lip. “Laenor will decide on the full extent of your punishment, after the lords arrive at dusk. You will go straight to your room, and you are only permitted to leave to attend your meetings with the Queen. She has also been informed of your absence.”

Saera bobbed a quick curtsy. “My apologies, Your Highness,” she said, keeping her eyes on the damp hem of her skirt.

“Saera Rhae,” she said, trying to dull the frustrated tone in her voice. She looked up at her through her lashes. “You are not in the same position as my daughter. The graces granted to her will not be given to you. This will not happen again, is that understood?”

Saera swallowed and nodded.

The Princess jerked her head to the castle, dismissing her. The young lady didn’t hesitate to escape from her presence. She watched Saera scamper past her and back into the red shadows of the Keep.

Jaylessa was flitting back and forth in her room, tending to the fire, fixing the linens, laying out her laundry. She stopped her humming when Saera opened the door, surprised to see her disheveled state when she was meant to be indoors the full day. “My Lady, what brings you here so early? You’re meant to be in your music lesson by now.”

Saera sniffed pathetically, closing the door behind her. “I…”

Her maid looked at her coat and the damp cape on her shoulders. The braid she had spent an hour weaving into Saera’s hair was let free and her curls hung tangled and wet around her face. “You went for a walk?”

“Visenya and I went to watch the snowfall by the Godswood,” she twisted her hands in front of her, looking sheepishly at her boots. “It looked lovely rolling in off of the bay.”

She sighed. “Who found you first?”

“The Princess,” she pouted.

Jaylessa tutted. “Ah. So, you are finally in trouble for bending rules you have no business bending?” Saera nodded. Her maid folded the thick stockings she held in her hand. “Very well. Hopefully you learn your lesson.”

“My family arrives this evening,” she stepped forward, pulling off her gloves and working at the golden clasps at her neck.

She slowed her folding. “Ah, for the Winter tournament, your gown should be arriving any minute so we can fit you,” she rambled. “So what was her highness’s verdict?”

“Ser Laenor will decide my punishment. Though, I have been forbidden from leaving my room unless it is to see the Queen, who also knows I missed lessons.” She dropped her wet caplet and coat on a plush stool. “With my luck, I will receive three opposing punishments I’ll somehow have to find a way to follow.”

Jaylessa picked up after her, bringing her things near the fire to dry. “What do you mean, songbird?”

Saera fell into her favorite chair, reaching for the laces of her boots. “The last infringement resulted in the Queen ordering me to not leave her side for a fortnight, the Princess demanding I remain in my rooms without interaction with her children for a week, and Laenor insisting that Jace and I work it out amongst ourselves immediately.”

“Which one was this for?”

She pulled off her shoes and rolled down her stockings, letting the fire warm her legs. “I believe Jacerys and I were fighting over something Aegon or Aemond had said. Do you not remember fussing at me for the massive bruise on my leg that left me limping?” Her maid chuckled in response. “The princes are always at each other’s throats one minute, then act like the best of friends the next. It is impossible to be around, especially when the princesses and I act as sisters. Yet, I am expected to be a part of the boys’ rows.”

Jaylessa started picking at the tangles in Saera’s hair with a silver comb, starting to hum a comforting tune.

Saera leaned back, watching the flames dance back and forth in the grey fireplace. Her maid’s deft fingers wound her hair into regal braids. “I do not regret watching the snow today.”

“I know.” There was silence while she pulled clean and dry underclothes from Saera’s wardrobe. “Your father will be happy to see you. Your brothers too.”

Saera sniffed. “Perhaps. Lord Corlys may not be pleased with me though. He is certainly harsher than my father, and holds me to the standard of his daughter. Which is quite high.” She tucked her feet underneath herself, resting her chin on her knees. “Laenor told me his sister was nearly engaged to the King by the time she was twelve. Do you think my father will do that to me as well?”

The movement stopped behind her. “I could not say, my lady.” Dry wool stockings and a shift were laid beside her. “But there is no use in worrying about the future. Come straight here after the feast, you have much to do before bed.”

“Yes, Jayleesa,” she mumbled.

Alicent motioned for her maid to open the door. Her attention was entirely held by the story Daeron had presented her with earlier in the afternoon; a small book, bound in brown leather and handwritten by some maester before she had even been born. About Oldtown and its everlasting fire. Curious, she thought, flicking the delicate page. “Who is it, Talya?”

“The Lady Saera Rhae, Your Majesty,” she announced.

The Queen looked up from the pages, tucking an old ribbon into the crease of the spine. “Is it so late already? Send her in.” She placed the book beside her and smoothed the dark green brocade of her gown.

Saera walked in, her hands fiddled with the gold belt beneath her ribs until she saw Alicent’s dark eyes narrow in on her. She folded them in front of her before giving the Queen a deep curtsy. “Good evening, Your Majesty,” she said with a smile.

Alicent nodded her head, her characteristic frown melted. “Good evening, Saera. Please, come sit. We have some time before your uncle arrives.” She watched Saera sit across from her on a golden stool, tossing her silver curls away from her face. The young lady adjusted her teal gown so it covered her leather boots and crossed her ankles the way Alicent had taught her. Then she looked up at her, blinking and waiting for her queen to start speaking. Perfect.

“I hear you had an adventure this afternoon,” Alicent said. Talya placed a silver tray in front of them, with an elegant carafe of deep wine and two crystal goblets beside it. “Pour.”

Saera obediently stood. The Queen narrowed her eyes when she gripped the handle and shakily poured the spiced red into the glass. A drop splashed on the silver tray when she poured her own glass. She studied the goblet Saera handed to her. “A little full,” she corrected. She watched Saera sit across from her again, her lightly calloused hands played with the lip of her goblet. “How was the snow?”

Saera watched the brown spices swirl in her cup. “Beautiful.”

“You abandoned your duties for beautiful? Come now, Saera,” she chastised.

The girl let out an unladylike huff. “Beautiful and cold. We sat amongst the roots and drew patterns. Princess Visenya unbraided my hair and put leaves in it, and then Ser Harwin found us and sent us inside.”

She raised an amber eyebrow. “There was a search for you two throughout the Keep. Had several servants in a frenzy. Looking through the curtains, the kitchens, they even tried the dungeons in case you had managed to wriggle your way down there and lock yourself in a cell.”

Saera smirked, hiding it behind her hand. “I apologize for causing concern. We only wanted to see the snow.”

“It was Visenya’s idea?”

She didn’t respond, instead taking a small sip of her wine.

Alicent nodded. “Rhaenyra’s children cause such trouble. It is a shame they drag you into it, my dear.”

Her brows puckered together. “She did not drag me, I agreed to go.” The Queen clicked her tongue in disappointment, and Saera swallowed the passion in her voice. “I apologize… I meant to say, Visenya suggested we go play in the snow, and I agreed to accompany her.”

“I am disappointed in you, Saera.”

“I know.”

“What punishment have you received thus far?”

Saera swallowed; her tongue darted out to catch a speck of cinnamon on her lip. “Princess Rhaenyra has confined me to my rooms, I am only allowed to attend you. And Ser Laenor is to decide my fate,” she pouted. “Surely, my father will also be consulted.”

“He will be,” she said. Alicent swallowed down the last of her glass and placed it on the tray. “Pour.”

Saera carefully measured out the wine, her mouth was pinched in concentration.

“Much better. And not a drop spilled this time,” she complimented. “Here, sit beside me.”

The girl followed her instructions, looking up at her through her pale lashes. Alicent studied her; her cool hand cupped her chin and tilted her face back and forth. Her stormy purple eyes drifted shut. A silk handkerchief dabbed at her cheek. “Speck of dirt.”

The immediate frown on Saera’s face made her smile to herself. “Ash. From sitting too close to the fire,” she said, opening her eyes slowly. “Is it gone?”

“Yes, my dear, it is gone.”

Saera pulled away, folding her hands in her lap.

Alicent handed her the abandoned book. “Read to me. Consider this the lesson you missed for the day.”

“Are the others joining this evening?”

“My children? For dinner,” she said, tucking a curl behind Saera’s ear. It held for a moment before springing back into place. “Read.”

She opened the book, smoothing the yellowed pages with her fingers. “In Oldtown, maesters throughout history have discovered ways to change the colors of the fire that burns in Hightower, to alert the ships in Whispering Bay of treacherous rocks, incoming storms, or political and civil unrest. As the highest point in Oldtown, the strength of Hightower is imp- impar-”

“Imperative,” Alicent corrected.

“Imperative.”

A few pages later, the Queen’s youngest burst through her chamber’s doors, pretending to fly a carved wooden dragon toy. He ran up to Saera and knocked the book from her hands. “Hey!”

Daeron stuck his tongue out at her before jumping out of her reach. The girl lunged for him, hiking up her skirts to her knees to give chase.

“Children,” Alicent said with a loud clap of her hands. They both froze, looking at her guiltily. “Saera Rhae. Sit down and fix your gown. Daeron. What is in your hands and where are your brothers?”

Daeron blushed and looked at his leather boots, hiding the toy behind his back. “A dragon.”

“And where did you get the dragon?”

He rocked back on his heels. Before he could answer, Aemond came running in too, his face was flushed pink and his white blond hair stuck out in odd directions. His eyes were narrowed in on his younger brother until he saw the pinched frown on his mother’s face. Aemond stood up straight and bowed stiffly. “Mother, he got out of my sight, I apologize for bursting in like this.”

Alicent nodded and motioned him to sit on one of the sofas. “Daeron. Where is that toy from?”

“Father carved it for me,” Daeron said, showing it to them. A tiny, unpainted version of Tesserion blowing flames from her mouth rested in his hands.

“Liar,” Aemond spat.

His mother stood, placing her goblet down on the table before holding out her hand to Daeron. “You know you are not to touch your father’s model.”

“But he let Jace do it,” he sneered. He nearly threw the toy but his mother plucked it from his fingers before he could.

Alicent sighed, handing the figure to her lady-in-waiting. “Have this returned to the King’s chambers. Make sure he does not notice.” She turned back to them, her dark eyes scanned over them like she was waiting for another stolen toy to appear. “You are both a mess. Have you been chasing each other through the halls for hours?”

Aemond crossed his arms, pouting. “No, we-”

She held up her hands, looking at the dark sky. “No matter. Go. Get cleaned up.”

Daeron whined, stomping his feet into the floor. “Why aren't you dismissing her?” His accusing finger pointed at Saera. Alicent looked at her youngest coldly, and all of the children snapped to attention. She raised her hand to the door, her eyes did not leave her son’s.

Saera watched Aemond grab his younger brother’s arm and pull him out of the room in silence; their boots scraped against the stones. Then the Queen’s gaze fell on her. She ducked down to pick up the book off of the floor, brushing away barely visible dust on the pages. “Shall I continue, my lady?”

Alicent picked up her glass. “Yes, you may.”

Soon enough, all of the Green siblings sat in their mother’s chamber; scrubbed clean and dressed for their feast, and they listened passively to Saera reciting the fragile pages. The room had a peaceful lull about it, the fire roared pleasantly in the hearth, snow fell steadily beyond the windows.

Talya stepped away from the door, momentarily letting the noise of the castle invade the quiet space. “My Lady, the lords are arriving.”

Alicent nodded. “With me,” her command barely whispered but brought all of her children to their feet. Saera gently closed the book, blinking the exhaustion from her eyes. She was grateful for the break from the small print. “Saera,” the queen called over her shoulder.

She jumped to her feet and hurried to catch up with them, her hands tucked firmly behind her back. She could feel her excitement starting to eat away at the nerves that had been lighting in her stomach. She started to peer up at the adult’s faces milling through the halls, hoping to see her brothers’ bright grins and open arms.

The lords and ladies of the court rarely looked down at the children, royal or not. She envied Aegon and Helaena, who had finally started to grow in their early teens, now people parted in front of them and bowed their decorated heads in acknowledgement. Saera grumbled when people pushed past her, scraping her sleeves against their trousers or stepping on her sparkling shoes. She rushed forward a few steps and caught Helaena’s cool hand.

Helaena glanced down at her and with a tiny smile she tightened her grip. She was gently guided to her side and their arms interlinked. “Lady Redwyne missed you this morning,” she whispered to her younger cousin. They turned down the hall and began to stride down the stairs.

Saera held her skirts in her free hand, focusing on the uneven stones. “Did she now? I suppose she cannot criticize you, cousin. You never wear trousers or forget which spoon is for dessert.”

Her giggle was like tiny bells they used to stitch on the doll’s clothes. “Considering the lecture I received this afternoon, she has plenty to criticize.”

“And what was she red-faced about today?”

Helaena considered the question for a moment, her bluish-violet eyes momentarily unfocused. Then she took a deep breath. “Several things. Not knowing what flowers to pick for this tourney’s festivities, choosing the wrong wine for a pear tart.” She looked up at her mother as they walked down the main hall, Ser Criston had fallen into step beside her at some point. “Not having control over you.”

Saera frowned. “Control over me?”

“She thinks you are wayward,” she whispered. They stopped by the doors, Alicent’s ladies in waiting draped warm furs over their shoulders, pinning them in place with golden broaches. Saera hardly noticed, turning the phrase in her mind. “But I do not mind it, I find it endearing.”

“My ‘waywardness’?”

She huddled closer to her younger cousin when the doors were pulled open, sending in a freezing breeze. “Yes,” she said simply. Then she fell silent, following her mother to the front of the crowd and pulling Saera along beside her.

They stood across from Rhaenyra and Laenor. Only Laenor acknowledged her, giving her a small smile and a wink. But then he fell serious again, looking back towards the gates. Saera shuddered again with another gust of wind, looking for her other family members.

It was a sea of house colors, expensive gems, and fur lined capes. She could barely see through the nobles that resided at the castle; could barely hear her own thoughts over the buzz of conversation. Then she saw Harwin’s bright golden cloak, followed by three small figures. He pushed people aside for the young royals and planted himself directly behind Visenya.

Much like the Green siblings, the Black children were brushed and buttoned up in their formal wear. Jace’s mop of brown curls had been combed and tucked away from his chubby face, his chin held high thanks to the stiff black collar of his doublet. Visenya had her hair braided into a white gold crown and her blood red gown peeked out from underneath her black cape. She gave Harwin a withering glare when he ducked down to say something to her but let him carefully pull her fur lined hood up over her bright pink ears. Luke clung to his sister’s cape, his big brown eyes wandered around at the people surrounding him. He was dressed nearly identically to his older brother, but instead of a deep black fur on his shoulders, his cape was lined with a brilliant white. Likely from some Northern beast imported in the autumn. It looked warm. Saera yearned for her coat, but it was likely still drying in her room. And, as Jaylessa constantly reminded her, it was not for formal events such as this.

A tug on her cloak made her look over at Daeron. “Could you stare any harder?” he mocked.

Saera glared at him, though he had nearly grown to her height in the last moon, she still managed to look down her nose at him. “Do you not have your toys to distract you?”

He sneered, starting to make an ugly face before Cole walked behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. They stood in silence, listening to the trumpets blow and the gates creak open, until his guard slipped back to his mother’s side.

She covered her mouth with her fingertips, trying not to giggle. His bony elbow dug into her ribs, but his jeers died in his throat as the first entourage climbed the stairs.

“Lord Hobert and Lady Lynesse of House Hightower,” the crier called. She turned her head, watching them bow deeply to the King and Queen, gently brushing their lips over Alicent’s cheeks. Behind them was her red-haired brother, who formally bowed before kissing her as well. Saera scrunched her brows, she could never remember his name.

Alicent gently squeezed her brother’s hands before carefully stepping back to Viserys’ side. Her family bowed to her children, muttering pleasantries to each of the children. She saw their amber eyes rake over her indifferently, before they passed over her to bow to the blond princes at her side. She bobbed her head anyway, as she was expected to do, ignoring the all too familiar reminder of her station. It was becoming an increasingly longer day than she was prepared to handle.

She watched the Hightowers circle around, greeting Rhaenyra and her children with grins that didn’t quite meet their eyes, and curtsies a little less deep than what they awarded the Queen. She bit her lips and readjusted her fingers in Helaena’s, a deep, unnerving weight settled in her chest.

The procession was the same through other houses. The Tully’s, the Lannister’s, even the Baratheon’s. She tried to peek around, hunting for her family’s silver hair in the line. “Do you see them?” she whispered to Helaena.

Her cousin didn’t respond, completely distracted by a small, frost covered spider’s web hanging from a frieze.

“Helaena, do you-”

She was interrupted suddenly. “Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys of House Velaryon,” he called. Saera poked her head out of line, watching her aunt and uncle lead in their family. She felt like she had to cling to her cousin to keep herself from sprinting into her father’s arms. It had been drilled into her after she passed her seventh nameday that a lady has to wait until she is in private to embrace her loved ones. And once the lords had their meals and several bottles of the King’s wine, she would be able to be glued to their sides’ without question.

Rhaenys smiled kindly at her before bowing. “Lady Saera, you have grown since I’ve last seen you. Doesn’t she look lovely, my lord?”

Corlys looked down at his niece, a twinkle in his dark violet eyes. “My gods, I scarcely recognized her.” She smiled and gave them both a formal curtsy, despite the cold she did not wobble. He bowed his head to her before turning to greet Rhaenyra and his son.

Her father passed next, extending his hand to her. She took it and sank into another curtsy. “Hello, father,” she said. “I trust your journey was easy?”

He sniffed, giving her a tight lipped smile. “Quite cold. But we are grateful to be received so warmly.” He kissed the back of her hand before continuing the procession.

She didn’t contain her wide grin when she saw Daemion and Daeron greeting Alicent. Daemion had grown out his white locs to his waist, like his uncle. Instead of letting them dangle down his cheeks, like Daeron’s, he braided them back and secured all of his hair into a long, decorated tail. Daeron kept his short, silver ornaments twinkled on the ends. She noticed how much older they both looked, both were sporting cropped silver beards and the family crest on their chests.

But all the age disappeared from their faces when they grinned down at her. She liked that the three of them shared the same smile. That their eyes, though all different shades of purple, danced with identical light. “It is good to see you, numio (pearl),” Daeron said, kissing her cheeks first. “You have yet to meet my wife, she is very excited to meet you.”

“Oh yes,” she said quietly, wondering which silver-haired lady was Hazel.

He perked up as some of the Velaryons passed by them, skipping over Saera to the princes beside her. “Inside,” he promised, making way for his brother.

Daemion was second. “Where has my little sister gone? All I see is another princess,” he teased.

She wrinkled her nose to keep herself from laughing. “Don’t be silly, I’m right here!”

He squeezed her hand. “As lovely as ever. Are you allowed to join our procession or must you stay,” he glanced over at Alicent who was already greeting the Redwyne’s.

“I have already gotten in trouble once today for being somewhere I don’t belong,” she said seriously. “I don’t wish to chance it.”

He playfully frowned and poked her nose. “Very well, Lady Saera. But you must save me a dance then.” He grinned at her once more before they were ushered along, dragging the remainder of the Velaryon’s with them.

She barely noticed the rest of the houses, but they also barely noticed her. Some spent more time lingering by the Queen, some rushed their greetings to be beside the Princess. Soon enough, Helaena tugged on her hand and they were being ushered into the warmth of the Keep.

The food was hot, chasing away any chill that had sunk into her bones. She was avidly listening to a story Luke was spinning, leaning slightly over Jace’s plate to hear him over the buzz in the hall. She sat in her spot, separating the Green and the Black siblings as their shared sister. She would have to turn occasionally to look at Alicent’s side and listen to Daeron excitedly tell his own tale, or Aegon make lewd comments about one of the ladies in the room.

But every once in a while she snuck a glance at her family’s table, equal in grandeur but not raised on the royal dias. They talked amongst themselves. She saw Daeron holding a woman’s hand, her deep skin radiated bronze in the warm candlelight and her silver hair was braided elaborately against her head. When she reached for her wine, Saera could see her teal sleeves were wound with silver threads that glimmered when she moved. Hazel’s eyes were dark, but she couldn’t tell from her seat if they had a hint of violet in them; but she could see the way they softened when they fell on her brother.

“Saera,” someone said, making her turn around quickly. Aemond raised his brows at her. “Did you not hear me?”

She blinked and twirled her silver fork in the drippings left on her plate. “I thought my brother was speaking to me, my apologies.”

He looked down his nose at her family. “They seem preoccupied with themselves. My sister suggested we all go to the Dragon Pit together for training, before the hunt.”

She glanced at Alicent; she listened intently to the Hand and her husband rattling on. “I am not sure I will be-”

“You should come, someone has to keep Aemond company,” Jace hissed in her ear, shooting a mischievous grin at his uncle. “Poor boy only has the keepers and his hand to distra-”

She pulled her head away with a gag. “Jacearys,” she said. “You’ve been spending too much time with Aegon.” Her eyes darted to Aemond, who’s pinched face had gone sour.

“Something to share, nephew?” he asked. He twisted his fingers around the stem of his goblet, not breaking eye-contact. “Or are your pathetic jests reserved only for the lady’s ears?”

Jace stuck his tongue into the gap in his teeth and looked over at their parents, making sure they were fully distracted. “Saera has heard worse, I think the only delicate, ladylike ears here…are yours, uncle.”

Saera groaned and buried her face in her hands. “Must we do this tonight,” she said, peeking out from between her fingers. “I have hours left before my father hears of my indiscretions and proceeds to skin me alive.”

The blond prince rolled his eyes. “Your flair for dramatics will outlive you, surely,” he said snidely.

“What indiscretions?” the brunette glared at her, as if he were insulted he had been left out. Saera waved him off.

“May I have one evening without insults and pranks?” she begged. “Please?”

“Very well,” Aemond pouted.

Jace raised his brown eyebrows at her and poked at the remaining dregs of his meal. “I will do my best, but make no such vows.”

She sighed. “Thank you.” She leaned back on the carved chair, smiling softly at a servant coming to clear their plates. She glanced back at her family again, their plates were already gone, soon enough they would be on their feet and dancing about.

The musicians were picking up speed, the drummers were getting ready to start. And once the King gave them the signal, the tourney would officially begin. Viserys lurched to his feet. She noticed his finery seemed too big, his white hair had thinned, though his crown hid the worst of it. He smiled at his daughter first, then his wife. He held up his overfilled cup, and a dull clatter followed as everyone lifted theirs in return. “Welcome, all, to our home. The realm had a blessed harvest, and as the snow falls and the wind grows cold, it is a pleasure to celebrate amongst friends.”

He drank deeply, prompting the room to follow. The king slammed it down into the table and pointed at the musicians. “Play,” he commanded with a joyous laugh before sitting. Alicent’s hand immediately worried over his chest, but he batted her away.

She felt the drums pound in her chest, chairs and benches scraped when people stood, gathering in the center of the floor to dance. She felt her chair creep out from beneath her. Before she could whip around, large hands wrapped around her waist and hauled her out of her seat.

Saera let out a joyful laugh as Daemion tossed her into the air and caught her. He was warm from the fire and the wine, and the hairs of his beard ticked her face when he kissed her cheeks. She twisted so she could wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. His arms cradled her closer and she could feel his breath on her shoulder. “May I ask the lady for a dance? Or are there a hundred other young men waiting their turn?” he teased.

Saera pulled away. “The Queen says I’m too young for such things, I have to wait until I’m two and ten,” she pouted.

He grinned at her, his eyes sparkled as he shifted her onto his hip and turned to look at the royal table. “I am inclined to agree. You’re much too young to be entertaining any attention, I won’t allow it,” he mocked, digging his fingers into her sides until she laughed. She slapped a hand over her mouth to quiet herself, but the sounds of the ball and dull roar of conversation of the lords and ladies left her unnoticed.

He bowed his head to the King and Queen before carrying her over to Rhaenyra’s side. Laenor looked away from a knight he was whispering with to grin at Daemion. “Come to steal away your sister?” he teased as Daemion dropped her beside her guardian’s chair and the two embraced.

“Why else would I come to King’s Landing? To visit you?” he laughed. Laenor patted his back a few times before grinning down at Saera.

Laenor smoothed a curl that managed to escape from her braid, tucking it beneath the jeweled net pinned to her hair. He ducked to her level, taking her hands in his. “Promise me you’ll behave?”

She nodded in earnest, making him chuckle.But she could tell he didn’t believe her. “Yes, ser. Best behavior.”

His eyes met hers. “Very well. Have your fun, but you will be going to bed soon. Come when I call you, Saera Rhae.” She nodded again, but he didn’t let go of her hands. He looked like he was holding a heavy weight on his shoulders, and suddenly she could see the rings of shadows beneath his eyes and the sharpness of his cheeks.

But in a flash it was gone, he let go and rose to her brother’s height. “Alright, you may have her for now.”

“For now? Limiting my time with my own sister? King’s Landing has made you cruel,” Daemion teased. As if he was worried Laenor would change his mind, he picked his sister up and placed her on his hip with an exaggerated groan. “You’re lucky, ser, she’s getting too big for me to stow away in the hull of the ship.”

She waved at her cousins as her brother carried her to her family, not missing the varied looks they gave her. Annoyance. Jealousy. Even a bit of confusion, but mostly from Luke, who hadn’t really realized she wasn’t his sister yet.

“I have a present for you, father,” Daemion called, pulling Vaemond’s attention away from his brother. He grinned at his only daughter as her brother placed her on the floor and let her run towards him.

Vaemond wrapped his arms around her and eased her onto his lap. “Hello, my little love,” he grinned down at her. “Only a few moons since your nameday and you’re already taller. What have they been feeding you?”

She tucked herself into his chest, her pale eyes fluttered closed when she could faintly hear his slow heartbeat. His chin rested on top of her head, his arms briefly squeezed her tighter. Selfishly, she wished this moment would never end.

“Daeron, stop lurking and come introduce her,” he called. She sat up and slid out of his lap, her hands folded politely behind her back.

Her eldest brother guided over the dark skinned woman she had noticed earlier. “Saera Rhae, this is my wife. Hazel Harte.”

“This is the darling sister I have heard so much about,” Hazel said with an almost shy smile. She curtsied deeply to Saera. “It is an honor. Daeron speaks so highly of you.”

She beamed at her eldest brother. “He has written about you. I am sorry I could not attend the wedding, Lady Hazel, my studies wouldn’t allow for it.”

Hazel’s eyes twinkled, and she noticed that even though they were dark, a glimmer of violet shot through them. Her hand wrapped around Daeron’s and he turned to gaze into his wife’s eyes. “It is quite alright, Lady Saera. There’s plenty of time, and a hundred celebrations to follow.” She looked back at the royal table. “I hope we are not keeping you from your companions?”

“Not at all, this is where I have wanted to be all evening,” she chuckled, leaning closer to her father. She peeked around Hazel’s shoulder; Jace looked away in a hurry, leaning over to whisper in Visenya’s ear. “I am quite excited, the competition is said to be fierce.”

Hazel stroked Daeron’s arm. “Yes, both Daeron and Daemion have been training everyday since the invitations were sent.”

“Have you now?” Saera sat up straighter.

Daemion appeared at his brother’s side, his long locs swung over his shoulder. “If you call me beating Daeron every afternoon ‘training’, then yes.”

Her eldest brother groaned and glared at him. “It is not every afternoon,” he jammed his elbow into Daemion’s ribs. He huffed and pressed his hand against his stomach as if his brother had driven a blade into his lung.

Saera giggled. “Daemion, he hit you on the other side.”

He paused and squinted at her before slowly sliding his hand across his torso, before resuming his dramatics.

Vaemond held his daughter closer, his rare smile crinkled his eyes. “You’re setting a terrible example your for your sister. Where did you learn this from?”

Corlys chuckled. “Certainly not from you, brother,” he leaned forward. “Saera Rhae, how has your training progressed? Perhaps you can put both of your brothers to shame.”

All their eyes fell on her. Saera traced over the callouses on her hands. “I believe I am doing well. Combat is much harder to measure than language or history.” She grinned at her uncle. “Ser Criston is not quick to give me compliements, though I think I am catching up to the princes.”

“What weapons does he train you with?” Rhaenys asked, tracing the rim of her cup with her finger. “Hopefully nothing too brutish, doesn’t he use a morning star?”

Saera covered her mean smirk with her hand. “No, he has us all learning broadsword. Laenor has been teaching me how to use a dagger.”

Rhaenys looked like she was about to add to the conversation when the drums pounded harder, transitioning into a slower dance. Saera pulled away from her father’s chest and turned to watch more people file onto the floor. Laenor offer his hand to Rhaenyra; her solemn face broke into an easy smile. Corlys and Rhaenys stood, taking each other’s hands. Her uncle patted her head as he passed by, leading his wife into the long lines that were forming. Her eldest brother and his wife follwed them.

Daemion offered his arm. “Time to see if these fancy palace lessons have paid off,” he said. Saera kissed her father’s cheek before sliding to the floor and letting her brother guide her into the crowd.

She picked up her skirts and grinned up at him. “You might be disappointed, brother.” He grinned down at her, then bowed with the rest of the men. She curtsied, hazarding a glance at the other noblewomen in line, spotting Helaena’s shimmering white hair a little further away. “But I will try my best to avoid your toes.”

Saera surprised herself; it had been weeks since she had practiced this dance. And it had dissolved into a pathetic brawl when Visenya kicked Aemond in the shins while switching partners and the princes leaped on each other without hesitation.

She turned around herself and stepped towards her brother, who easily lifted her off of her feet and gently pushed her back like a wave. They clapped in time and turned around each other, grinning like children when he nearly went the wrong direction. She took his waiting hand and spun to her next partner. He was in red, but it was deeper than the Targaryen crimson, and almost as tall as her brothers were.

She clapped her hands with everyone else and looked up at one of the Lannister brothers. Saera struggled to tell the two apart, even though there was usually only one in the halls of the Red Keep. The dance didn’t end, and she bowed with the rest of the ladies. “I wasn’t expecting you to dance tonight, Lady Saera,” he said.

She tilted her head, accepting his hand and hopping closer. “Dameion wanted-”

“Ah, yes. I saw your family arrive. You must be very happy to be reunited with them,” he said, twisting her around. She flinched when he grabbed her waist and lifted her feet off the floor. “I must visit with your father before he returns home.”

“Yes, ser.” Gratefully, they were about to switch again. His hand reached out, turning her again. “Are you competing in the tourney, ser?”

“I am meant to,” he said, letting her step away with the line. “But it feels like a young man’s sport.”

Saera grinned. “Oh, I would not know, this will be my first year attending.”

“Perhaps I will see you in the stands,” he said. She spun once more before she stepped to the next man in line.

Aemond. “When did you join?” she asked with a little annoyance.

He pinched his face. “Does it matter? Unless you plan on kicking me like my niece did.” He bowed as gracefully as his gangly legs would allow. It was much more comfortable to not be looking up at her partner.

“She only did that because you stepped on her shoes,” her defensive tone made his eyebrows perk up. She bobbed a curtsy and then clapped with him before they started to circle each other.

She spotted Helaena a few ladies down, dancing peacefully with Harwin; she was comically shorter than him. “I believe I only stepped on her shoes because she turned the wrong way,” he said. “Something you’re about to do now, pay attention.”

Saera took his hand and let him turn her around. He found her waist and lifted her back into place with a small grunt. His bony fingers dug through her layers of skirts and pressed uncomfortably into her skin. “Tell me Jace joined you,” she said without thinking.

“He didn’t,” he responded quickly. Their hands intertwined and she turned again.

She hopped on the drumbeat and started to spin to her next partner, her eldest brother, but Aemond wouldn’t let go of her hand. “What?” she hissed.

He pulled her back into place. “Third partner, we don’t change for the rest of the dance. Formation only.”

“No, that’s a different one,” she argued. But he was right, partners stayed the same and started to shift from their lines into the final circle. Saera mumbled a curse, joining both of their hands.

His freckled nose wrinkled like he was about to tease her doubt; but the blond prince thought better of it and guided them to their place in the circle, finishing their dance with a deep bow.

Everyone clapped when the dance ended, laughter and chatter echoed around the hall while the musicians adjusted themselves to start the next piece. Aemond offered his hand to her. “I believe Jace wanted to dance with you next? It is proper for me to escort you to the next partner.”

Saera watched Daeron start to push his way towards her, Daemion taking Hazel’s hand with a kind grin. “Not this one,” she said flippantly, reaching up to her brother’s warm, calloused hand. He spun her around his finger once before guiding her into the next dance.

It was past midnight. Her hair had been let free to tangle amongst her pillows, she was buried to her nose in her warm blankets. Then the tiniest click jarred her from her sleep. She rolled over, seeing candlelight spill in from the hidden panel connecting Visenya’s room to her’s.

They had discovered the tunnels by accident, when Saera had fallen back into it while they were playing one day. While they found themselves brave enough to explore Maegor’s Holdfast alone by day, the permanent dark and damp of the tunnels kept them from wandering through the maze, instead only keeping to the narrow hall that connected the two of them.

“Saera?” her friend whispered into the dark.

She sniffed and rolled over to face her, opening up her blankets so Visenya could crawl in. The little princess didn’t hesitate, blowing out the candle and scrambling beneath the sheets. Her feet were frozen from her brief walk and her straight hair stuck out from its loose braid at odd angles. Saera let the sheets fall around her. “Don’t touch me with your icicle feet tonight,” she said with a secretive grin. “Or I’ll send you back to your bed.”

When Visenya turned her head, Saera could see the gleam of her eyes in the reflection of the moon. “Did you enjoy the ball? You danced quite a bit before father sent us to bed.”

She smiled sleepily. “Yes,” she pressed her cheek further into the pillows. “Did you?”

“I was not allowed to dance tonight,” she pouted. “Something about my behaviour, or perhaps it was my age.”

Saera let out a quiet laugh. “Can’t remember?”

“Truthfully, the cake tonight was so divine, I stopped listening to everyone once I had a bite.”

The girls giggled into the sheets, trying to muffle their joy as much as possible. They caught their breath and listened carefully for any movement in the hall. It was still quiet.

Visa stared at her, her mouth started pulling into a pout. “What do you think is going to happen now?”

She frowned and scooted closer to Visa. “Whatever do you mean?”

“With Laenor. And your father. What do you think is to happen?”

Saera sighed. “Nothing.”

Visenya sat up. “And how do you know?”

“I don’t, but you make such an ugly face when you worry, I can’t stand it,” she teased. Visenya dug her fingers into Saera’s side with a quiet noise of protest.

“What if they send you away?”

She paused. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind, and suddenly the cold in the room started to sink into her bones. “Who said that?”

Visenya’s hand rested on her friend’s cheek. “Criston.”

She scoffed. “Ser Criston is uninvolved with the decision. He has no say.”

“But what if this time he is right?”

“And what if you wake up and your skin is bright green and covered in dragon scales?” she said softly, taking her hands in hers. “Some things just don’t happen.”

Visenya frowned, she could see the glimmer of tears forming in her eyes. She pulled the little princess into her arms, hugging her tightly. “When will they tell you?”

“I am not sure,” she whispered. “Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps before they leave. But you needn’t worry about my fate.”

There was a beat of silence. Visa rested her forehead against her friend’s, letting out a soft sigh. In the snow, everything felt quieter; even the dully glowing embers of the fire had lost their crackle when a cold wind washed through.

Slowly, Visenya’s amethyst eyes drifted shut, and her breathing calmed. Saera stroked her silky hair while she drifted away, her mind alight with new thoughts. She would have to wake her up and send her back through the tunnel before their maids came. But she knew that wouldn’t be for a few more hours. She took a few deep breaths before slipping into her dreams.

#house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen fanfic #you're in the wind im in the water #fic rec #fanfiction #my writing

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1eaf-me-alone · 2 years

Note

That destroying angel and blackberry for xiao idea you put at the end of your post sounds like a good fic so could I please request that? :)

𝕴𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘

Character: Xiao

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: hurt/ comfort

Prompt: “you're the only one I care for in this world”

Other: gender neutral reader

warning: implied that reader doesn't want to live

— — — — —

“You’re fired”

“ but “

“GET OUT”

You walked out of the building looking down at the streets. grey, thundery clouds swarmed above you as the rain started to fall from the sky, huge, cold, drops fell onto your skin. You held your hand high up, towards the rain. You shivered, your clothes stuck to your body whilst your hair flattened and clung to your face. Perfect. Just what you needed. You didn't have an umbrella to shelter you from the rain either. You walked miserably in the rain, slow tears falling down your face.

You wandered along the unstable pavement. Everything around you was a blur, you laughed hysterically at your misfortune, clinging onto a lamp post as more tears fell rapidly down your cheek.

You walked into your room and slammed the door slumping down into your bed. You didn’t have the energy to do anything.

Everything just wanted you to suffer, everyone wanted you to feel pain. You didn't have anything. No money, no friends, no job. You wailed out your suffering, your face welled up as your cheeks went red. You wouldn't be able to live.

Soon you fell asleep, shutting your eyes and drifting into the world of your dreams

— —— — — —

You opened your eyes as around you an ethereal world formed in front of you. You walked across the grass and fields, feeling the warmth of the sun against your face. Butterflies fluttered their wings sprinkling pollen, the colourful flowers swayed in the soft breeze of the summer day.

You squinted your eyes seeing a figure slowly walking toward you. As he came towards you, his features became more apparent. He was rather short, with black hair and turquoise highlights. His eyes were the colour of almond and his arms were decorated in green tattoos which gave off a slight glow.

The perplexing man walked towards you. Sitting on the grass next to you.

“Are you ok ?”

You looked at the short man sitting next to you, never having seen him before.

“Who are you? Why are you here?”

The Man gazed into your eyes, taking a comfortable seating position as he levitated slightly in the air.

“My name is Xiao- and I’m here to help you. So tell me, what’s up?”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes to try and prevent the tears from falling.

“ My friend’s just died, I got fired from my job, I don’t have enough money for the house. Everything seems to be falling apart, everyone is leaving me, no-on cares for me and I’ll be homeless soon. I have no reason to live.

You felt your face go red as tear drops fell onto the ground, forming massive puddles and holes in the grass.

“But you have.”

Xiao stood up, linking his arm with yours as he guided you to the waterfall nearby, kneeling as he grabbed a rock and threw it across the river. The water rippled, sending small waves onto the grass.

“Life is long and full of troubles- death waits after. Everyone knows this-“

A butterfly fluttered onto your hand resting there.

“You can’t give up now when you haven’t even tried. First, you try, and then you may give up. So sort your priorities- get yourself a job, earn some money. Things can’t be bad forever, they won’t be. So try before you fail.”

You hummed in thought, thinking of what he had said. You floated up high into the sky, jumping onto the clouds as you rose In the air.

“It’s time for you to go back to the waking world”

“But-“

You dropped from the sky, falling to the ground, falling, cascading Into the Earth, into the lava.

“Will I ever meet you again?”

“When your eyes close and you dream at night I’ll be there. But I warn you- I'm willing to protect you but don't think about getting close, and stay out of my way, or all that awaits you is regret.”

— — — — — —

From then on you came to meet Xiao every evening. Listening to his advice. He helped you forget your pain, your hurt, your sadness. He made you look at the beauty of the world around him.

You wanted to go to sleep now. You wanted to stay for more and have your worries melt away. You loved how Xiao made you feel. How he comforted you, the way he caressed you, sat next to you, talked to you. You hated how as soon as you awoke you plunged back into harsh reality again. Surviving off of the little food in the fridge, the little money you had left and everything around you is an ugly mess.

And so, you slowly start spending more time in your dream world. Next to Xiao, next to the parks, and grass and trees.

But before you knew it you started to fall in love with Xiao. You no longer saw him as someone to be there and listen whilst you dumped all your stuff on him. You began to love him. You wanted to stay, you didn't want to wake up. You were willing to give up your life in the material world to stay with Xiao for he gave you calm and comfort.

And you couldn’t help but fall in love with him, his hair dusted with turquoise, his pale and angular face- the star that was on his forehead, his amber eyes, his white beaded necklace along his neck. The purple fabric in his clothing. The way he talked to you and helped you. You wanted to stay with him- You wanted to leave your life to stay with Xiao. You loved him.

— — — — — — —

You walked along the grassy hills of your dream world, the leaves of trees cascaded down beautifully. The warm colours of the sunset glowed onto your face. You let out a huge smile as you saw Xiao walk toward you.

He sat down next to you, taking in a deep breath of air. His hair moved in the wind, whilst his eyes remained closed and at peace.

“Xiao.”

His eyes opened, revealing a dusty, sandy colour of a desert.

“I’ve been thinking of... Staying here. I'm happy here. My world here is perfect, I don't have any worries, I can forget them here and- and I have you. And we can be together here. “

Xiao stood up, glaring at you- his pupils became slits as his hair moved more wildly in the wind.

“I warned you. You can't stay here with me- you have a proper life in the real world, a life you're yet to fulfil. Being with me in your childlike fantasy is never going to happen. Do YOU understand?

He walked away, swishing his robes and disappearing into the unknown.

— — — — — — —

You woke up from your dreams. Your body was shivering and trembling. A cold sweat came down your face as you tried to stand up. There's no use. You lay down on your bed again and closed your eyes trying to sleep - for if you weren't dreaming all your problems would soon be crashing down.

— — — — —

You skipped along the long fresh grass, the sun had risen high up into the sky, shining brightly onto the swaying roses.

“I’ve decided to leave.”

You turned your head around, seeing Xiao in front of you. His expression was solemn as he looked you dead in the eyes.

“Until I stay here you won't be able to live your life as you should. For your good, I must go.”

“You're the only person I care for in this world. “

Your voice slowly became more agitated, as tears started forming on your cheeks.

“ I don’t care for anyone else but you. Please. No. You can't leave me- I can't bear to have another one leave me- Xiao-”

Xiao walked towards you, breathing in your smell, as he gently leaned in and kissed you. You stopped for a second, as your eyes broadened. Feeling Xiao’s lips against yours, soft and cushiony- a little cold yet smooth against your skin.

He stepped back, a sad smile lay on his face as he slowly walked away from you.

“Goodbye.”

He wandered further from you disappearing behind a hill. Nothing of him remained.

A harsh wind surrounded you, as the rain started to pour down relentlessly. Tears ran down your face quicker than you would stop them. You started to scream, scream for him. Yelling for him to come back your hair whipped around wildly across your face.

“ PLEASE come back”

— — — — — — — — —

You woke up. You felt heavy, your face was fresh from tears. You looked around your bedroom as you stood up from the bed. You examined yourself in the mirror. Huge eye bags rested on your face, your cheeks were sunken, you looked pale, and your clothes smelt dirty and full of sweat. Your cheekbones were more pronounced.

You had been avoiding reality for long enough. It was time to face it. Whether it was going to be hard or not you had to go through it this time.

— — — — —

And after a while, you did start to get better. You found a reasonable job, cleaned your apartment, and bought yourself some food and clothes. You found a new love interest.

But slowly you started to forget Xiao. He became a blur in your memories and then a void.

You were successful, you were happy, you had a new significant other to care for, a new house a new job. Money which could afford luxuries you previously could never imagine.

— — — — — —

Xiao looked down upon you. You finally seemed content. He smiled as he watched you laugh with your new love.

– — — — Hope you enjoyed your stay at the forest!

A/n: went a little creative with this one. (having Xiao as a manifestation of your sub consciousness/ in your dreams. Also Xiao is a little sweeter than in Cannon here.

#Xiao #xiao x y/n #genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao fluff #xiao hurt/comfort #xiao scenarios #Currently 1 am in the mornknf #Can't tell if I've made a masterpiece or complete rubbish #Probably the second one #Event: into the woods #xiao x reader

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summerinthecloudsx · 2 years

Text

Where the rain can’t reach or Ushijima, your best friend, runs out of patience with Terushima, your (ex)boyfriend

A/N: Minors DNI. I will literally never get over Ushijima in sweats I just…don’t think you guys understand. Angst to comfort, cheating, brief mentions of past intimacy, friends to lovers, Terushima is a player, Ushijima is a giant (protective) teddy bear, timeskip ages. Multipart., eventual smut.

Part 2

The next day is easier, or at least not as miserable. There’s still a dull ache in your chest—and your throat thanks to all of the crying—but it’s tolerable. That’s not to say you’re happy, though. A numb haze has fallen over you despite your best attempts to put on a strong smile, and you’re stuck in your head thinking about everything that went wrong in your former relationship.

Maybe it’s as simple as the two of you being incompatible. Maybe Terushima only wanted a serious relationship with you because you refused to fall for his one time flings. He certainly never made any attempts to advance your relationship beyond the bedroom. The many times you went on dates had been thanks to your suggestions or careful planning. You can’t even recall a time when he told you he loved you, always claiming he needed to take things slow. You respected that, and in return never vocally expressed your love for him either. Perhaps the entire relationship had consisted of him waltzing around his distaste for commitment along with your intense desire to please him.

“What do you want to eat?” Ushijima’s low voice interrupts your thoughts. He sounds distant, in another realm almost, though you know it’s you who’s far away. You’re so far that you don’t even respond at first.

Your eyes drift over to his tall frame propped against the kitchen counter. A plain black shirt hugs his torso along with another pair of gray sweatpants sporting his team's logo. Simple, comfortable, but well-fitted for his figure. It feels wrong to admit that under the circumstances, though, so you quickly avert your gaze to the counters.

The coffee pot behind him is full courtesy of his early wake up schedule. He left late the previous night and arrived at your apartment—with the help of the spare key you gave him—before you even woke up. You want to tell him it’s unnecessary, that you can take care of yourself just fine, but you can’t deny that you enjoy the affection. He might be a man of few words, but he more than makes up for it with his actions.

“We could go to the cafe across the street,” he suggests when you don’t respond. “Or we could take a trip to another city for the day.”

So we don’t run into Terushima. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know that’s the reasoning behind his suggestion. You’re not sure what would happen if you did see him, but you’re not too eager to find out.

“You don’t have to babysit me.” You purse your lips with a furrowed brow.

He raises an eyebrow at that while he takes a small sip of his coffee. “I told you yesterday I wanted to hangout with you today. That hasn’t changed.”

Because he’s honest and consistent despite his busy schedule, something you’ve always admired. There’s probably still a bit of pity mixed in with his suggestion, but you don’t bring it up again.

“Let’s go somewhere out of town. I don’t want to be here right now.”

“Whatever you want,” Ushijima says as he places his empty cup in your dishwasher.

Apparently, he wasn’t joking when he said whatever you wanted. After several failed attempts to get you to suggest your preferred destination, he decided he would surprise you.

The drive is short and comfortably quiet, your chin resting atop your palm as you stare out of the window of Ushijima’s car. It’s raining again, though not as fiercely as the previous night. The droplets fall softly against the car’s window before they slide down like clear ribbons. The contrast is beautiful against the exterior landscape, which has begun to shift from a typical busy morning in the city to grassy hills and towering trees. A few golden rays sneak between the branches despite the rain and clouds, and you find yourself smiling at the sight.

“It’s nice out here,” Ushijima says quietly. His voice is just loud enough to hear over the music and pattering of rain against the car.

You hum in response, catching sight of his reflection in your window. For a brief moment, he glances at you as well, and his shoulders visibly relax once he notices the small smile on your face.

“I don’t get out of the city much anymore,” you sigh. Life is busy. Your clients along with all of your friends and relatives live in the city. It’s not like it used to be in high school when you ventured to the countryside just because you could. You would have liked to take a trip with Terushima, but he always had some excuse as to why he couldn’t. Busy workday, extra hours, hanging out with friends or family. Now, you’re on a spontaneous day trip with one of the busiest men you know.

“How far are we going? Are you sure you won’t be too tired tomorrow?” You suddenly feel guilty for taking Ushijima so far away from his home on his rare day off. He should be resting or having drinks with his friends.

“It's not too far from here, and I want to spend the day with you,” he replies, determination evident in his tone. “You don’t have to worry about me or anyone else for that matter.”

You turn in your seat so you face him fully. His brown eyes are set on the road, but they seem lost in thought, somewhere between the car with you and his own mind. You start to ask him if he’s okay when he lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head.

“I wish you gave yourself the same amount of concern you give to everyone else.”

“What do you mean?” You have plenty of concern for yourself, though you don’t think it’s a bad thing that you put others first. Isn’t that a valuable characteristic?

“It’s okay to be selfish sometimes,” he elaborates. “Especially if you’re being selfish and asking me for favors. It makes me happy.”

His words make your heart race, embarrassed and unsure how to respond. You shouldn't read too much into it. He’s just being friendly, that’s all. And before you have a chance to think of a reply, he turns the car to the right and slows to a stop.

Wasting no time, Ushijima unbuckles himself and exits the car. His steps are confident, head up and back straight as he walks around to your side and opens your own door. After taking his hand, you step onto the soft earth, surprised when your shoes don’t sink into the mud. Though, when you look down, you realize there isn’t any. The grass is damp as if from a morning dew but that’s it. The rain hasn’t even followed you, only a soft mist hanging over your head and above the mountains on the other side of the street.

“Where are we?” You breathe out, stunned by the beauty around you.

“I used to come here when I was in high school,” Ushijima explains. He has a glimpse of a smile on his hardened features. “It was…” He pauses as if trying to phrase his next sentence correctly. “It was nice to get away from the chaos for a while.”

You’re not surprised by his answer. While he never had the same group following as another high schooler, Oikawa, Ushijima had his fair share of fans. Recruiters from professional teams, volleyball players from other schools trying to discover the secret to his talent, jealous peers, and girls wanting to use him to gain popularity. You remember what it was like to be one of his friends then, and the pride you felt knowing he actively chose to spend most of his free time with you hasn’t faded in the slightest.

“It’s beautiful.”

I feel like I can breathe here.

“There’s more.” Ushijima motions for you to follow him to the seemingly abandoned trail. Grass has grown over most of the stones and small winter flowers poke through the cracks between them. But as you walk farther up the hill, you realize it’s far from abandoned.

The small hill comes to an abrupt stop, sloping down to reveal several shallow pools of water along with a small stream feeding each of them. The water flows slowly, steadily until it reaches the tree line where you assume the stream continues. It’s a simple part of nature, nothing all that remarkable, but it makes you want to cry all the same.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” you breathe out.

Ushijima steps closer until his arm brushes against yours. He’s staring at you rather than the scene before him, though it isn’t surprising when you remember he’s probably seen this hundreds of times. You wonder if it’s lost some of its beauty to him, if the years have somehow faded the ethereal aura surrounding the stream.

“He never took you anywhere like this before?” He sounds truly shocked, disgusted almost. He seems to regret asking almost immediately, stuttering an apology that you quickly shush.

“We didn’t really go on many dates,” you admit shyly. “And he definitely didn’t plan them. Looking back, I think we were probably more like friends with benefits pretending to be something more.”

His eyes narrow as he scoffs, shifting his gaze to the smallest pool of water. A deep, purple flower dances across the surface, traveling the stream so smoothly it almost appears to be floating. You wonder what it’s like to be so carefree, fluid and floating through life in the same way.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Ushijima finally mutters, and he swears it’s true. Terushima never knew what it took to make you happy or remind you how important you are. He never valued you as something more than a fling or bed companion. He wanted you because he couldn’t have you, and then once he got you, he suddenly lost interest. Pathetic excuse for a boyfriend, he thinks. And he’s allowed to think that as your friend, right? “He never deserved you in the first place.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, though you’re still smiling. Watching the flower flow so effortlessly has made you feel free, lighter even. “You’re right.”

The pain is fading.

Without thinking, you lay your head against his arm and let out a content sigh. “Thanks for bringing me here. I feel a lot better.”

He smiles again, hoping you don’t see the way his ears are starting to burn. Just friends. I can’t say anything when she’s just been through something so harsh. “Any time. I’ll always make time for you.”

“I know.”

And as the flower disappears into the stream within the forest, you send some of your pain along with it.

The bitter ache is almost gone.

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #friends to lovers #cheating trope #angst with a hopeful ending #eventual smut #haikyuu fluff

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augustinewrites · 2 years

Text

cw: angst that’s it

suna stares down at his phone screen, where your contact's been displayed for the five minutes or so.

you haven't texted him since two weeks ago, when you told him you'd be coming by to drop off the only copy of his apartment key (the one he'd had made just for you), effectively severing the last metaphorical string tying him to you.

yet his thumb still hovers over the call button, like it has every night for the past two weeks.

"where's osamu? didn't the two of you drive up here together?" he questions, pocketing his phone instead. "i need a drink and don't wanna wait anymore."

"samu said he'll stop by tomorrow," atsumu explains, walking into the room with an expensive looking bottle of liquor. "said he's going to meet up with some business associates for dinner."

suna just shrugs, not thinking much of it as he slides his glass over to his old teammate. "that's alright i guess."

atsumu mutters something in agreement, the sound muffled as he uses his teeth to yank the cork out of the bottle, pouring them each a generous amount.

they clink their glasses together, but while atsumu takes a sip, suna downs the entire thing.

"whoa!" his friend chokes as he slams the glass down. "slow down a little, this is a sippin' whisky, not a shot of tequila."

suna just drops his head down onto the counter with a groan, tapping the rim of his glass.

“hey, couples break up and get back together all the time,” he hears atsumu sigh, the sound accompanied with the pouring of liquid. “this probably won’t be permanent.”

“it’s been almost a month,” he grumbles miserably. “i think it might be permanent.”

"you don't know that for sure. you guys should meet up, talk it out like adults or just...move on."

that would be ideal, if not for the fact that the two of you were too stubborn to do that. it's funny, how your strongest, shared trait has been so easily turned against you both. "and why should i take advice from you, huh? you don't see relationships past sunday morning."

he regrets asking the second he sees that proud smirk on atsumu's lips. "since i started datin' a doctor."

and while atsumu babbles on about his relationship, suna can't help but let his mind drift to you.

it's saturday night, and if the two of you were still together, you'd be making the most of it. maybe you'd hit the bar across the street together or go grab dinner at the new sushi place you wanted to try.

but since it's raining tonight (fitting for his downcast mood), maybe you'd both hole up here, in his apartment, putting on a movie you'd seen a thousand times and not watching it. everything fading into the background as you'd break open a bottle of wine and talk until midnight. you'd talk about the real shit, about classism and feminism and all the other ism's he could never talk about seriously with someone like atsumu.

(osamu, maybe.)

suna misses that. misses you. he misses the way you smell and the way you smile when he says something dumb. he misses the way you'd whine his name when he'd tease you, and the way you'd pout your lips until he'd kiss them in apology.

he wonders if you're at home tonight too, thumb hesitating as you stare at his contact on your phone.

he wonders if you're missing him just as much as he's missing you. and maybe it's petty or childish, but he hopes you're hurting just like he is. he hopes that he isn't the only one suffering.

but it doesn't change the fact that you're not here, and atsumu is. so he downs a few more glasses until your face is nothing but a blur in his mind.

and when atsumu passes out on his couch, he stumbles into his bedroom, flopping back onto the sheets, breathing in their scent. (he makes a note to buy another bottle of the detergent you use).

maybe it's the alcohol clouding his mind, or maybe it's the sheer fucking feeling of missing you the breaks through his initial hesitation. it's with shaky hands that suna unlocks his phone finally hits call.

you jump a little when your phone lights up on your nightstand, illuminating the dark of your room. you reach for it blindly, blinking away the sleep in your eyes as you peer down at the contact.

swallowing thickly, you're suddenly wide awake as you hit accept and press the phone to your ear.

"suna," you breath quietly. "it's late."

he inhales sharply on the other end, voice coming out a little slurred. "i...i know."

"are you okay?" you ask, hoping he's too drunk to hear the slight tremble in your voice. it's been...too long since you'd last talked.

"yeah," he answers. then after a moment, "just wanted to hear your voice 's all."

"rin-" you bite the inside of your cheek at the slip of his name. "we broke up."

all you hear are his slow breaths on the other end, then a rustle of bedsheets, as if he's turning onto his side (like he used to do when he thought you were sleeping, to press a kiss to your forehead). "i think about you all the time."

this is a dangerous, dangerous path. one that has you gripping your phone tighter and you heart beating faster. "let's talk tomorrow, okay? when you're sober."

"really?" the hopeful lilt of his voice causes your chest to squeeze.

"yeah," you confirm with a stiff nod. "i'll text you."

"okay," he sighs, as if he's relieved. "okay. sorry if i woke you."

"it's alright," you assure him with a small smile. "i'm hanging up now, get some rest."

"okay...i love you."

this time it's you that inhales sharply. "i love you too."

you hang up, setting your phone face-down on your nightstand and falling back against your pillow, hiding your warm face behind your hands. your head is a swirl of thoughts too complicated to comprehend at this hour. about the break up, about rin, about—

a rustle of the duvet draws you out of your thoughts, a warm hand gently gripping your shoulder.

“hey," osamu whispers next to you, "who was callin' ya at this hour?"

"no one," you lie, voice trembling as you pull the sheets up to cover your bare chest. osamu just nods, rolling back onto his back and breathing an equally shaky exhale. uncertainty hangs heavy in the air between you.

you should say something, anything. but all you can think of is late nights in a different apartment, in a different bed.

with someone else.

#tw angst #suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou #haikyuu!!#haikyuu drabbles

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Pet

Shinobu Kochou x They/Them Reader AU

A/N: This could be considered a part two to You Cat to be Kitten Me, but you could totally read this without having read the other. I’ll just link the other fic in case you’re interested (LINK). Hope you enjoy! Word Count: 3,454

Shinobu knew when she had let herself be dragged to the animal shelter by (Y/n) that it wasn’t going to be a simple visit. ‘Just to look,’ they had promised, but now, here Shinobu was watching (Y/n) stare up at her from their crouched position on the floor as they rubbed the puppy’s belly with hopeful eyes.

“No.” Shinobu said, not unkindly.

“I didn’t even say anything yet.” (Y/n) pouted in return, scratching the soft puppy’s furry neck.

“It’s written all over your face. We are not getting a dog, (Y/n).” Shinobu hated to tell them no, but she really couldn’t stand such furry animals.

“How about a cat?” (Y/n) asked, looking just as hopeful.

“No.”

“A bunny.”

“No.”

“A ferret.”

“No.”

“A—“

“(Y/n), we’ve talked about this. I’m not living under the same roof as some slobbery, wiggly, furry beast. If you want to play with an animal so badly, you can always visit Mitsuri’s cat, or her new rabbit too for that matter. Is that what brought this on?”

“A little,” (Y/n) stood up, forgoing eye contact with Shinobu to scan the rows of animals.

“A little, hm?” Shinobu crossed her arms, “and whatever else could possibly be at play?”

“It’s nothing,” (Y/n) shook their head, “want to grab lunch now?”

Shinobu tilted her head and gave (Y/n) a questioning look. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t nothing. Still, she wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of this stuffy room and wash her hands. She could question them about it later.

“Lunch sounds wonderful.” She smiled, looping (Y/n)’s arm with her own.

They waved at the volunteers and thanked them before heading out of the shelter and back to their car. They drove to one of their favorite spots with outdoor seating that overlooked the river, talking casually and laughing together while they waited for their food to arrive.

“You remember I have been invited to be a guest speaker at Kyoto University next week, right?” Shinobu had asked between bites.

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, nothing is wrong per se, I was also asked just recently if I could stay a few days more to oversee a new experiment. You don’t mind do you?”

“Of course I don’t mind, dear. I love how passionate you get about new projects. I hope you have fun.” (Y/n) smiled, though something seemed a bit forced about it from Shinobu’s perspective.

“Are you sure? I haven’t committed to it yet.” Shinobu tested.

“I’m sure, really. Why are you giving me that look?”

“What look?”

“The worried, suspicious kind of look.”

“It’s just that you have seemed kind of out of it since we left the animal shelter. You said it was nothing, but I’m not quite sure that’s true.”

“Shinobu, it’s fine, really,” (Y/n) assured as they paid for the meal, “do you want to go on the river walk trail before we head home or...?”

“What I’d really like to do is find out what’s bothering you.” Shinobu grumbled. Nevertheless, she took (Y/n) by the hand and led them down the path.

Plenty of people were out, enjoying the warmth the sun had to offer. Of course that meant a lot of people were out with their dogs as well. Shinobu took to using (Y/n) as a barrier whenever a dog veered too close to her, sniffing them with wagging tails. (Y/n) was all too happy to intercept the furry canines that they came across.

“This path should really be wider...” Shinobu would mumble, tugging (Y/n) along so they wouldn’t dwell for long.

“We’re almost back to the car. You’ll be okay, I’ll protect you.” (Y/n) teased, staring at Shinobu adoringly. Their hand was squeezed tightly while someone with a big St Bernard passed them by, its tail brushed against Shinobu’s thigh, making her shudder.

Shinobu heaved a huge sigh of relief when they got back into the car. As (Y/n) drove, Shinobu rolled down the window to send any little hair she found on her pants flying out on the wind.

“So, today was fun, right?” (Y/n) asked tentatively while taking the last turn to their house.

“Today was, something.” Shinobu shrugged. Yet she smiled sweetly and patted (Y/n)’s leg. “But any day I get to spend with you is a good day.”

“Aww, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The couple made the safe return to their house and lazed about for the rest of the day. When dinner came around they cooked together, spinning, teasing and brimming with cheer all the while. It was after they had gotten ready for bed and (Y/n) flopped into the covers beside Shinobu that the doctor decided to try her luck again.

“So what was on your mind today?” Shinobu asked while she turned on her side to observe her partner.

“You’re still on that?” (Y/n) poked Shinobu in the ribs, “let it go.”

“No, I want to know what’s wrong. I’m leaving for Kyoto soon and I want to get this all sorted out so it doesn’t fester while we’re apart. No matter how small a matter you think it is, anything that concerns you matters to me.” Shinobu spoke seriously.

(Y/n) was ready to deny Shinobu again up until she loomed above them on the bed with such stern eyes.

“I just miss you, you know. I guess I get kind of lonely when you’re away.” (Y/n) admitted.

“I miss you too. We always find time to text and facetime, that helps doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. The house though, it just feels empty without you. Of course I’ve got work to do too, but when I’m done and you’re not around, I just feel kind of sad.”

“You could always invite my sisters over, you all get along so well and Mitsuri and Iguro or any of our other friends and family.” Shinobu suggested, mildly upset with herself for not noticing sooner.

“I have before, but I can’t commandeer everyone’s plans every time you’re gone for an extended period of time. You don’t have to worry though, I find ways to keep myself busy.” (Y/n) said, snuggling deeper into the covers.

“I won’t stay the extra days, I’ll email the professors right now.” Shinobu moved to get out of bed but (Y/n) pushed her back down and held her in place.

“No need for that. I don’t want you to skip out on opportunities to grow your research for me. See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“This is why you took me to the animal shelter, isn’t it? So you had something to keep you company whenever I’m away.” Shinobu asked despite already knowing the answer.

“I’ll admit that was kind of the idea. I just wanted to see if anything would catch your eye, but I didn’t keep any unrealistic expectations. I knew you wouldn’t like anything furry. I was kind of hoping to find a hairless cat or something.”

“(Y/n), you should have told me. I would have—“

“You would have settled on something just to make me happy. I wanted to find something we’d both like.” (Y/n) rested their head on the pillow just above Shinobu’s shoulder and nuzzled it with their nose, looping an arm over Shinobu they sighed pleasantly, “It’s really okay. I’d let you know if I thought otherwise. Good night, love you.”

“Love you.” Shinobu smiled, resting her head atop (Y/n)’s.

While (Y/n)’s breathing slowed and they drifted off into unconsciousness, Shinobu was wide awake. She gently drummed her fingers over (Y/n)’s side while she searched her mind for a solution that would leave them both satisfied. Shinobu had raised fish for a time, but you couldn’t really pick them up or interact with them like one would a more traditional pet.

Shinobu slowly scooted to lay upright against the headboard and took her phone off the charger, turning down the brightness a bit when the harsh light hit her eyes. She typed the shelter into her search bar and navigated through the site, trying to imagine herself getting along with any of the animals and failing miserably.

She was about to give up and go to sleep when curiosity got the best of her and she clicked the tag marked ‘miscellaneous’. She hadn’t realized the shelter cared for such unusual animals. Shinobu smiled down at her partner sleeping in oblivious bliss. Maybe this could work out after all.

The next morning, (Y/n) woke up to the smell of breakfast and lazily swiped their arm over the bed, searching in vain for the warmth of a body they knew couldn’t be there. With a tired whine, they resigned themself to getting up and stumbled into the kitchen.

“You’re up early.” (Y/n) yawned before giving Shinobu a quick peck on the cheek. “Something wrong at the pharmacy? The clinic? Leaving for Kyoto early?”

“Must there be something wrong in order for me to get up early?” Shinobu asked. To tell the truth, she hadn’t slept much at all; she was too busy researching to do so.

“No, it’s just that you prefer to sleep in when you don’t have plans.” (Y/n) said, moving to sit on top of the kitchen island.

“Oh, but I do have plans.” Shinobu cryptically corrected, standing between (Y/n)’s legs.

“You do, do you?” (Y/n) smiled, “do these plans involve me at all by chance?”

“In fact, they do.” Shinobu kissed (Y/n) before stepping back a bit to look them in the eyes. “So eat your breakfast and get dressed so we can head out.”

“Head out? Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

(Y/n) and Shinobu finished their breakfast, showered and got dressed. Shinobu started up the car and they went off on their way. (Y/n) asked her a few more times for even just a hint but Shinobu simply smirked, holding a finger to her sealed lips.

She couldn’t keep the secret forever however, especially not after (Y/n) realized what road they just turned on.

“Shinobu, what are you doing?”

“Just trust me.”

“I trust you, but what are we doing back at the shelter?”

“Come with me and you’ll see.” Shinobu said, already getting out of the car.

(Y/n) unbuckled their seatbelt and quickly followed behind their partner, wondering just what idea could have gotten into Shinobu’s head. They managed to catch up to her just as she greeted the volunteer working the front desk.

“Good morning, we’re here to see Puppy.”

(Y/n) gave Shinobu a weird look, but the doctor didn’t pay them much mind as the volunteer answered after a moment of confusion flashed in his eyes as well.

“Really? That’s wonderful! Come follow me to the back.” The young man said.

While the couple followed the volunteer to the back of the shelter, (Y/n) tried to figure out how they were going to dissuade Shinobu from picking out a dog just to please them. Shinobu couldn’t even remember to speak properly when thinking about it. I mean, ‘we’re here to see puppy’? Really? Not a puppy or the puppies just, puppy. She was really just going through the motions, wasn’t she?

“She’s right in there. She has her own little set up and everything. Poor thing was surrendered to us after her owner died of old age, but she seems to be adjusting well. Serve her up a nice big platter of salad and she’ll never forget it.” The jolly volunteer disclosed.

The previous owner died, had they? That was so sad. (Y/n) frowned at the thought. The salad comment got to them however. What kind of dog would want a salad of all things?

“May we go in?” Shinobu asked.

“Sure. Let me know if you’ve got any questions. I’ll be back at the desk if you need me.” The helpful man said before making his way back down the hall.

Shinobu wasted no time in gently pulling the door open and taking a step inside, much to (Y/n)’s surprise. Shinobu ducked her head back out and motioned (Y/n) forward with a curl of her finger. (Y/n) was so confused. Shinobu looked genuinely excited to show her this particular puppy. With a slight delay, (Y/n) followed her in and looked for the dog that had somehow managed to win over their Shinobu’s heart. Their eyes roamed around the room for a moment, they blinked, and nearly broke their neck with the force they used to turn their head back to the shape that had caught their eye.

“No way.” They breathed out.

“What do you think?” Shinobu asked, moving to crouch beside the large tortoise.

“That, that’s not a puppy.” (Y/n) stated dumbly, too shocked to say much else.

“Her name is Puppy. She’s a Sulcata, or an African Spurred Tortoise. Cute, isn’t she?” Shinobu softly stroke the tortoise’s head with her finger.

“She’s massive.” (Y/n) blinked. Perhaps they were still sleeping and this was all just a dream.

“Yes, the biography they had on the website said she’s a little over one-hundred-twenty pounds. She shouldn’t grow much more if at all though, she’s well over eighty years old. Your previous caretaker took really good care of you, huh?” Shinobu said, patting Puppy’s carapace as the giant reptile slowly scooted away.

“Eighty years... Shinobu, are you suggesting we adopt this grandma of a turtle?” (Y/n) watched attentively as Puppy scooted across the floor.

“Tortoise, (Y/n). And yes, I am. She may have more years than the two of us combined, but she could very easily live another sixty years with the proper care and attention.”

“Are we even equipped to give her that? I don’t think we could even pick her up? Like, how would we even get her home and where would we put her?”

“If we decide to adopt her, there plenty of ways to safely transport her. We can set up an enclosure in the back yard and let her roam around the house. We’ll have to keep an eye on her of course, but I’ve heard she’s quite well behaved.”

(Y/n) stared at Shinobu with awe. Never would they have thought Shinobu would speak so passionately about such an unusual animal unless it cultivated its own poison or was some kind of insect. They shook their head and smiled.

“You know,” they said, crouching down to stroke Puppy’s scaly leg, “an actual dog would be easier to take care of, relatively speaking.”

“Do you not like the idea?” Shinobu asked.

“Oh no, I was just wondering if we get divorced when we’re like, eighty, who gets Puppy?” (Y/n) laughed and rubbed their arm, Shinobu had punched it a little harder than she had meant to.

They took some time to get to know Puppy, feeding her some leafy greens from her veggie platter and petting her carapace. It didn’t take long for them to become completely enamored with the old gal.

They met up with the man at the front desk again and filled out an adoption form. It would take a couple days to be processed but Puppy was as good as theirs. They quickly made their way back home to continue their research and completed all the preparations to make the house and yard tortoise friendly.

A couple days later, and the adoption went through. The couple was elated and rushed to pick up the new addition of their family and bring her home. It was a bit tricky, but they made it without any complications.

They let Puppy settle in and explore the yard enclosure first before slowly guiding her to the house with collard greens and cabbage. As they sat in the middle of their living room with the foot and a half long tortoise, Shinobu found herself wishing she could just cancel her Kyoto trip altogether.

“This was a terrible idea. Now I never want to leave the house.” She sighed.

“Aww, it’s like Puppy is your baby. Your very old baby.” (Y/n) said, feeding Puppy another leaf.

“We never did discuss if we were going to give her a new name.” Shinobu thought suddenly. “Any thoughts?”

“Nah, I like Puppy. It’s cute. Besides, she’s had that name for almost a century, it doesn’t seem right to change it now.”

“Yeah, I can agree with that sentiment.” Shinobu nodded.

“You just want to tell Kanae we got a puppy and watch her face change as she realizes the truth, don’t you?”

“Perhaps.” Shinobu smiled mischievously.

***

When it came time for Shinobu to leave for Kyoto, she hugged (Y/n) close and kissed them sweetly.

“I’ll miss you.” She softly proclaimed.

“I’ll miss you too. I think Puppy will too.” (Y/n) said, looking down to watch Puppy step up to Shinobu’s foot. Most likely she was looking for a snack.

“I’ll miss you too, sweet girl!” Shinobu hummed, couching down to give Puppy a quick rubdown. “You and (Y/n) take good care of each other while I’m gone, okay?”

Puppy closed her eyes, enjoying the attention Shinobu gave. Shinobu returned to her full height and gave (Y/n) another kiss before grabbing her travel bag and heading for the front door. Before she was fully out of the house, she turned back and smiled at (Y/n).

“I almost forgot to tell you. I texted Kanae about Puppy. Expect her sometime today, she can’t wait to meet her,” Shinobu waved her phone at (Y/n), “try to catch her reaction and send it to me. I really wish I held off on telling her until after I got back.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Be safe.” (Y/n) waved in return, already well aware of what Shinobu had in mind for her unsuspecting sister.

“I will. I’ll call you tonight. Love you.”

“Love you,” (Y/n) watched Shinobu leave before looking back down at Puppy. “Come on, Puppy. Let’s go outside.”

They led Puppy to the backyard with some cabbage and set her up with some hay and other enrichment materials. It was maybe an hour later when (Y/n) heard movement from inside the house. Instead of panicking, they remembered what Shinobu had said and got their phone ready. Just as they hit record, Kanae slid the back door open and jogged over to (Y/n) with Kanao calmly closing the door behind her. Apparently Kanae had convinced her to tag along.

“I can’t believe you actually convinced her to get a puppy! How did you do it?” Kanae started in on (Y/n) immediately. “Where is the puppy? Shinobu wouldn’t send me any pictures.”

“Well...”

“...That’s not a puppy.”

(Y/n) and Kanae turned to Kanao who was staring down at Puppy as she snapped at some hay. (Y/n) turned their phone back just in time to catch Kanae’s double take and the journey of her expression from disbelief to acceptance.

“I should have known it wasn’t that simple!” She groaned, “(Y/n), what did you two do?”

“We got a sulcata tortoise from the animal shelter. Her name is Puppy,” (Y/n) noticed how mesmerized Kanao was by the reptile and grinned, “she’s really gentle, you can feed her some greens from that bucket if you’d like, Kanao.”

Kanao nodded, taking a big, leafy bok choy and offering it to the tortoise with bright, attentive eyes. The youngest sister did not seem the least bit disappointed by Shinobu’s farce.

“I can’t believe her! I should have seen this coming, Shinobu has detested furry things all her life, but this is like a literal dinosaur!” Kanae sighed and shook her head, “She really got me good.”

A moment later, and the eldest Kochou sibling realized (Y/n) had recorded the whole encounter.

“(Y/n), don’t send that! Don’t give her the satisfaction!” Kanae pouted, reaching for the phone.

“I’m sorry! She asked me to before she left.”

“You don’t need to do all of your partner’s dirty work. Come on, please?”

“Already sent.” (Y/n) said, a sympathetic smile tugged at their lips.

Kanae frowned and narrowed her eyes, reminding (Y/n) heavily of Shinobu. It was a look (Y/n) seldom saw on the usually cheery woman.

“Fine then. I’m going to pet that tortoise now, hopefully she’s more well mannered than her caretakers.” Kanae turned her nose up on (Y/n) and joined Kanao in gently patting Puppy.

(Y/n)’s phone buzzed and they looked down, Shinobu had answered quickly it seemed. A simple, ‘yes!’ with a couple variants of laughing emojis. But another message soon followed reading, ‘When I come back, we’re getting Mitsuri next.’

(Y/n) exhaled an amused sound and prepared themself for Shinobu to come back from her trip. They knew that once she returned, Shinobu would continue to pull the same joke about Puppy to all their friends and family until no one remained unaware.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #kny x reader #kny oneshots #shinobu kochou #shinobu kocho #shinobu x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #shinobu kocho x reader

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dreamyyang · 3 years

Text

summary: you made taeil’s undead heart soar and he was absolutely addicted to the feeling.

pairing(s): yandere!zombie!moon taeil x reader | kim doyoung x reader

warning(s): swearing, obsessive behaviour, mentions of blood, gore (kind of..?), minor character death, cannibalism, non con (taeil forcefully kisses the reader)

word count: 2.6k words

a/n: this is pretty heavy stuff so if any of the aforementioned content triggers you, do not read. please note that I do not condone taeil’s behaviour and that this is purely a work of fiction. my fic is not an accurate representation of taeil’s actual personality.

part of @127-mile’s addiction collab

emotions were as foreign to moon taeil as brains and human flesh once were. while he doesn’t mind either of them, they were just very hard to come by. that changed when he got a job at the qian family’s mortuary, courtesy of qian kun, a mutual friend. johnny had already explained taeil’s special situation to kun, who agreed to give taeil access to the bodies so long as he worked as kun’s assistant. it was an excellent arrangement for both men - taeil could finally eat some proper food while kun finally had help. for obvious reasons, not many people were willing to work at a morgue, especially for such low wages.

taeil managed to ease himself into a routine of work, brains, sleep then repeat. while many people would eventually go insane from being constantly surrounded by cold, still bodies, taeil couldn’t care less. a zombie couldn’t ask for a better arrangement. while he did not experience emotions, he still felt a semblance of peace.

at least, that was before you showed up, completely unannounced. of course, your arrival wasn’t completely random, kun did warn taeil that his cousin was coming home after getting their phd, but you weren’t what taeil expected. he had this mental image of you being stoic and reserved. he thought you’d briefly acknowledge him with a slight nod while visiting your cousin and that would be it. imagine his surprise when he came to work and was greeted by a smile brighter than the sun. you were like the human embodiment of a meadow of flowers in the summer - warm, wonderful and welcoming. hell, you even smelled like flowers.

suddenly, his daily routine was ruined.

most mornings, you would meet him at the mortuary, looking as fresh as a daisy, and hand him an equally fresh box of baked goods from the bakery next to your clinic. if it was a slow morning, and it usually was, you would make small talk with him while kun went over the day’s plans in his office. he began to cherish those morning conversations with you and his undead heart would sink when the clock struck nine and it was time for you to hug him and kun goodbye. from then on, he was usually in a sour mood for the rest of the day, not humouring the silly jokes kun made as they worked. he would get off work with a dull ache in his heart if you weren’t there to pick kun up or offer to take them out for drinks.

this abrupt change frightened taeil more than anything. why was he suddenly experiencing these strange feelings? he hated it. every day, he was going through a rollercoaster of emotions that would be decided by whether or not he saw his boss’ cousin. it was so absurd. in the past five years of him being a zombie, he hadn’t felt such extreme emotions before. they all felt so...so human.

when he consulted johnny about these strange occurrences, his friend began to howl with laughter, “dude, it’s so obvious!”

taeil glared at johnny, “care to explain what exactly is so obvious?”

“you like y/n. why else would you be constantly pining for them?”

taeil scoffed. johnny must have smoked something because there was no way he liked you. at best, he had known you for three months and it isn’t like you regularly spent time together. plus, you were related to his boss. johnny had no idea what he was talking about, he was full of shit.

“that’s bullshit. I don’t buy it,” taeil shook his head, leaning back in his chair.

“no I swear, it’s true! we drove past this factory and they were just beheading these chickens out in the open,” you sighed. “anyway, the sight was so sickening, I’ve never looked at meat the same way since.”

“yet you decided to be a thoracic surgeon.”

you shrugged, “yeah but operating on people and eating meat are two different things. I don’t mind looking at flesh and blood but the thought of eating any makes me sick.”

taeil silently thanked you as you made that statement. ever since johnny had suggested that taeil liked you, he’d been searching for reasons not to like you. and of course, there’s no way he could like you if you were a vegetarian. you would be absolutely disgusted if you knew what his main diet consisted of. yet, every now and then, he felt his mind drifting away to a different mental list - a list of the things he liked about you.

he liked how you would come up with the most absurd conversation starters, just to make him crack a smile. he liked how your hugs were warm and comfortable. he was even beginning to like the fuzzy feeling that would envelop his heart whenever he was around you. you made him giddy and lovesick and eventually, he didn’t mind anymore. being around you all the time forced him to accept that he had very strong feelings for you. in fact, he was certain that even as a human, he had never had feelings this intense. there was just something special about you that had him feeling some sort of way. normally, he would have been afraid of how you controlled your heart but now? he was in too deep to care.

he decided it was better for him to just accept the fact that he loved you. why try to fight it? it was highly unlikely that he would feel this way about anyone ever again. he had to hold onto you, he would be insane to let you go.

finally, he plucked up the courage to confess to you. he was falling for you more and more every single day, and not being with you was slowly killing him. he decided to surprise you at the clinic where you worked with a bouquet of your favourite flowers. he planned to treat you to lunch at a romantic café then confess to you while walking you back to the clinic. he had rehearsed the little speech he wanted to give over twenty times with johnny, who repeatedly assured him that everything would go well.

it did not go well.

taeil was greeted by a unpleasant surprise when he reached the entrance of the clinic. there you stood, his beloved y/n, in another man’s arms. taeil watched, horrified, as the man placed a soft kiss on your lips. you looked so happy with him and it broke taeil’s heart. he felt awful as he watched you smile at the man. that same wonderful smile that he wished was for his eyes only. it felt like a cruel joke to have your laughter fill his ears as tears pricked his eyes. taeil was glad that nobody was paying attention to him as hot tears stained his cheeks. he couldn’t have gotten away sooner, pushing past the people on the street to go home.

he quickly texted an excuse to kun about how he felt sick and would be gone for the rest of the day. it wasn’t exactly a lie - he did feel sick and every time he thought about you and the stranger, it only got worse. he ripped up the bouquet and the plastic that had been wrapped around their stems, screaming as he did it. pain bled into fury as he destroyed the beautiful flowers. he was unbelievably angry and wouldn’t stop until every last petal had been snatched from the base and scattered on the floor. he was blinded by rage as he made a mess of his apartment floor. finally, the bouquet had been completely ripped apart and tears cleared taeil’s vision.

he dropped to the floor, feeling miserable as he stared at the mess, tears streaking down his face. he loved you so much, but someone had stolen you away. how dare that asshole? you were supposed to be taeil’s, how could he just come between the two of you like that? how incredibly selfish of him. taeil had to get rid of him, as soon as possible. the more time you spend with that jerk, the more he’ll ruin you. taeil scowled at the memory of the two of you kissing. he will pay.

it was decided. taeil was going to make you his, one way or another. whether you liked it or not.

“I hate this, taeil.”

taeil nodded, feigning sympathy as you pouted and continued to complain, “doyoung’s been so busy the past week that he hasn’t been able to call me even once. he just sends brief texts… I really miss him.”

“that sucks, y/n, but you know, it’s a very demanding job.”

“yeah I know…but would it kill him to at least call to say good night?” you sighed, sipping your tea. “whatever. thank you so much for listening to my rant, taeil, I really appreciate it. you’re an awesome friend.”

the word stung, but taeil tried not to show it as he smiled and promised you that he didn’t mind. which was half true. taeil could never get tired of listening to you talk about any topic but one - kim doyoung, your boyfriend. it didn’t really matter, though. soon, taeil would make sure that you would forget all about that piece of shit. soon, moon taeil would be the only thing on your mind, just like how you were the only thing on his min

but first he had to punish you. you deserved it. if you hadn’t gone and dated another man, he wouldn’t have considered such a thing. you needed to be disciplined. you belonged to taeil and he was going to make sure that you remembered that fact. so he sat there in front of you, politely nodding as you vented about your boyfriend, and tried to think of a suitable punishment.

“I know I’m complaining about him a lot, but I really like doyoung,” you laughed. “even though he took me to a barbecue place for our first date.”

that’s when a lightbulb went off in taeil’s brain.

for someone who couldn’t survive without eating brains, taeil sure was an idiot. somehow, he’d gotten roped into a dinner date with you, doyoung and doyoung’s sister, jisoo. at least he managed to convince you to let him host the dinner at his apartment, insisting that he wanted to make a good first impression on jisoo. you’d wiggled your eyebrows and teased him about it but he knew, deep down, setting him up with someone else was hurting you. but you wouldn’t have to worry about hiding your feelings for much longer - taeil would soon relieve you of your misery. ideally of course, he wouldn’t want to start off your relationship with a double date with other people. not to mention your little punishment, but hey, all relationships have their ups and downs.

now if he could just get that pesky little jisoo out of the way.

after briefly stalking doyoung’s instagram account, taeil managed to find jisoo’s account and figured out where she worked. getting her to stay away was easier than he thought it would be. all he had to do was press a small knife against her neck and she was begging for him to leave her alone. he left her trembling in the alley behind her office, with her tears stinging the small cut that ran down the side of her cheek. he wasn’t worried about her telling her brother since that’s who he’d be visiting next.

he had to say, out of all the humans he’d made dishes out of, doyoung was certainly the best. probably because his meat was actually fresh, but you really seemed to enjoy him as well.

“god taeil, your spaghetti is wonderful. I can’t believe doyoung and jisoo are missing out,” you nearly moaned as you devoured your dinner. “these are the best vegan meatballs I’ve ever had. seriously, how’d you make this?”

taeil shrugged, “I used a pretty basic recipe, although I did use something extra special for those meatballs.”

“would you mind sharing what that special thing is, master moon?”

taeil’s smile dropped, his expression completely serious now. you didn’t think much of it, taeil was probably just being dramatic. however his tone as he spoke his next sentence sent a chill down your spine.

“enough dilly-dallying. tell me, sweetheart, did you really think you could get away with dating another man?”

you were too stunned to speak, what the fuck did he just say?

“woah, don’t get shy now. did you seriously think you could go be someone else's whore and I wouldn’t get mad?”

“taeil, what on earth are you talking about?”

you looked like a scared and helpless little rabbit and taeil would be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel some type of way. taeil’s predatory gaze burned into your eyes, ensnaring you and refusing to let go. you were confused. why was taeil behaving like this? why was he so angry with you? but you were certain about one thing: tonight was not going to end well for you.

with a gentle voice, you tried to calm him down so the two of you could have a rational conversation but taeil wasn’t having any of it. he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you up to your feet, stepping away from the dining table and pulling you close till your chest brushed against his. suddenly, his steely gaze slightly softened.

“y/n, my love, I hope you know that I didn’t want to do this to you, but you left me no choice. you forced my hand.”

tears were beginning to well up in your eyes. taeil was getting frustrated. you knew exactly what he was talking about yet you were acting as though taeil was speaking in cryptic messages. taeil noticed your tears and tsked, cupping your cheeks. there was no point in you crying now. the deed was done. taeil was hoping you’d learnt your lesson so the two of you could move past this.

“don’t cry, sweetheart. at least, not until you know what I did.”

“but taeil, I don’t even know what I’ve done,” you sniffed lightly.

“darling, I love you. and I know you love me too, you don’t need to say it. but why did you have to go and date doyoung? do you know how much that hurt me?”

you shook your head, “taeil, I really didn’t know how you felt. but I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way.”

taeil glared and tightened his grip on your jaw, “fucking lies! that dickhead doyoung has brainwashed you. oh my precious y/n, I feel so awful for punishing you the way I did, but how else will I fix you?”

“what do you mean?” you asked, afraid of the answer he was going to give you.

“those vegan meatballs, darling. although I suppose the term ‘doyoung meatballs’ would be more accurate.”

your beautiful features were twisted into a look of pure horror as realisation dawned upon you. taeil couldn’t help but let his lips form a maniacal grin. he was rather proud, even if he did say so himself. doyoung would never be a problem ever again. nor would anyone else be, for that matter. taeil knew that you were his good, obedient little y/n. you wouldn’t dare to hurt him ever again. satisfied, he leaned in and forced you into a kiss. you were too shocked to fight back.

as he pulled away, he pushed the hair out of your face.

“remember to behave yourself, darling.”

#nct 127 #nct #moon taeil #nct taeil #nct writings #nct fics #nct angst #nct 127 angst #nct 127 x reader #moon taeil x reader #taeil x reader #taeil angst #yandere!nct #yandere au #zombie au #nct au #yandere!taeil #nct horror

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cowboy-like-mee · 4 years

Text

a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be

summary: y/n deals with the aftermath of harry leaving her

warnings: angst af!!!! possible ED tw

word count: 2k

a/n: i was really sad so i started writing this to try to relieve some of the emotions built up in my body :))))))

this is based off the song “a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be” by jess benko. lyrics are spread throughout this in bold and italics so hopefully it isn’t too confusing!!

masterlist

Nothing hurts more than pretending like everything’s okay, when you’re falling apart on the inside. When you want nothing more than to be with your love. Hold him in your arms and give him little kisses whenever you want. Dance around the kitchen and sing songs from your youth.

Harry. Beautiful Harry. Your boy.

He’s not yours anymore. You have to remind yourself.

You’re miserable without him, but he’s better without you. The pain of being with you was much greater than the thought of leaving you.

So he left.

You’ll never forgive yourself.

Everyday seems to get worse. The days blend together.

You fall asleep, not sleeping well. You wake up, regretfully, tired from another restless night. The day drags on, never seeming to end. You walk around like a zombie. Daydreaming about going home to the love of your life, instead going home to an empty apartment and an empty fridge.

You can’t bring yourself to eat. You can’t bring yourself to even try to watch TV. You go straight to bed and stare at the ceiling till you eventually fall asleep. And then it repeats. And repeats. Again and again and again.

You can’t even remember what day it is. You don’t know if you’re supposed to go to work or if you’re off. You wake up anyway. Anything to distract yourself from the never ending cycle of numbness and loneliness. Self loathing and empty stomachs. The nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you things could have been different.

Maybe if you had done things a little different. Maybe if you had smiled a little more. Laughed at a few more of his jokes or hugged him a little bit tighter. Maybe if you had started accepting his offer to go on walks with him. Or watched a few more movies with him.

If you could go back you would never say no to anything he requested.

You would gladly sit through any of the god awful romantic comedies he’s obsessed with. Or drink the terrible black coffee he has every morning.

But no. Things change and people change. You drifted apart. You’ll never have him again. The giggles and late night love making. Him singing you to sleep or washing each other’s hair in the shower.

Sobs wrack your body for the first time in months. You hadn’t cried like this since the day he left. The memories seep back into your conscious, haunting you.

His bright green eyes flash behind your eyelids. His voice is ringing through your ears. You can feel his lips on your neck and his hands wrapped around your body.

You stand up, shaking your head and pulling at the roots of your hair. Trying to rip the memories straight out of your brain. You’ve never felt this kind of pain. Pure anguish. The reality finally setting in that he’s gone.

He had finally had enough of you. What he once loved and adored, he loathed.

He was far too gone once you realized. You were far too selfish to realize the man you love was slowly falling out of love with you.

“Y/N?” He had called your name gently.

“Hm?” You hummed, not looking up from your phone where you had been texting your friend for the last half an hour.

He took a deep breath, trying not to snap. “Can we talk?”

This got your attention. You looked up, brows furrowed, and set your phone down on the couch. “What?”

“I-I...I think we should take a break.

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Wh-what?” You whispered, feeling tear prick your eyes.

“I...want to take a break from each other.”

You stared at the man sitting in front of you. You noticed how different he looked from the man you fell in love with. He looked sad. He looked exhausted. You didn’t know at the time it was because of you. You thought maybe he was having a rough time with himself. But now it’s crystal clear.

You changed. You weren’t the same woman he fell in love with. You two barely went on dates. You hadn’t had sex in months. You two hadn’t even been going to bed together. You would always go to bed first. He would sit in the living room, crying over his broken relationship. He would eventually crawl into bed, laying as far from you as possible. You hadn’t even noticed, being too caught up in your own life, not noticing your boyfriend slowly crumbling apart in front of your eyes.

So you agreed. You agreed to take a break from each other for two months. You wouldn’t date anybody or sleep with anyone, but you two had to stay apart from each other. It was easier for him than he hoped. He felt like he had freedom. He felt like he could breathe finally, not suffocating in his own home.

You had a different experience. You never realized how much you relied on him. The dishes piled up and your laundry was never washed. The fridge never got full of groceries at the beginning of the week. You had no one to cook you dinner or ask how you looked in a certain outfit. You missed him.

The two months was almost over and you had already planned out everything you were going to say. Your apology and your speech on how much you appreciated and loved him. You knew you fucked up and you knew you had to own up to your mistakes. Your negligence to him.

And then you got the call.

Stranger, that's all I see

The piercing sound of your phone ringing cut through the silence of the apartment. You jumped in your spot on the couch, where you were folding your clothes.

When I look into your eyes

Harry’s contact flashed across the screen. You didn't know if you should feel relieved or terrified. Did he finally have enough of this break and was ready to come running into your open arms?

You hesitantly slid across the bottom of the screen to answer.

“Harry?”

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, I’ve missed you so much, Harry.”

He winced at the sentence, his eyes already beginning to water and his throat feeling tight. “Listen, Y/N. I have something to tell you.”

A soulmate who wasn't meant to be

Your heart stops beating at the tone of his voice. “Okay...”

You heard his breathing over the line for a few heartbeats before he finally spit it out, “I’m moving back home.”

Your heart leaped put of your chest. “Harry! I’m so happy. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve reorganized a lot of our place. I’ve had a lot of free time-”

“No, Y/N. I’m moving back to England.” He cut you off.

Your mouth hung open. A lump immediately formed in your throat. You attempted to swallow it down. “Oh.” You let out shakily, trying to hide the sound of the trembling in your voice.

“Yeah.”

You both sat in silence for a minute, not knowing what to say.

“So, when are you coming back?”

He tried to refrain from rolling his eyes. You were always so stubborn, and that was one of the things he used to love about you.

He sighed loudly, “I’m not coming back.”

“Are-are you breaking up with me, H?”

He squeezed his eye shut and shook his head. No matter how bad you are for him, he still loved you, and it still fucking hurts to do this.

“Yes, Y/N. I’m breaking up with you.” He said as steadily as he could manage.

Stranger, who knows all my secrets

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle the cries leaving your body. “I can’t believe you’re breaking up with me over the phone!” You yelled into the phone, unable to control your emotions any longer.

“We haven’t seen each other in months, Y/N! You should’ve known this was gonna happen eventually!”

“I thought this break was supposed to make us come out stronger, not tear us apart!”

“We’ve been torn apart for a lot longer than you think.”

You didn’t know how to reply. He was right. You just never realized it. He had been feeling this way for a long time. This was inevitable.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. This is all my fault. I love you so much. You’re the only thing that holds me together. I know I fucked up and I ruined our relationship and everything good we had. Please, please, please, don’t do this. I'll do anything for another chance. We can take it slow. Anything. I can’t lose you, baby. You’re the love of my life. My light.”

He shakes his head and blinks away the tear threatening to spill over. “Y/N, no. I can’t keep doing this. We haven't been good for a long time. I‘m broken. I can’t keep going in circles. I need time for myself. We’ll find other people. I love you and I’ll always love you, but I can’t be with you anymore.”

You cried harder at his words. Nothing hurts more than knowing he’s leaving because you hurt him so bad. He still loves you.

The thought of Harry loving anyone else fucking hurts. The thought of him kissing another person and giving them the secret touches you used to share. You’re breathing is shallow and quick, sobs wracking your body.

“H, please. I-I can’t-”

“Goodbye, Y/N. Maybe one day in the future we can talk again, but I have to go. You’ll be okay.” He hung up.

Can pull me apart and break my heart

You immediately tried to call him back, ready to plead with him to try again with you.

The call didn’t go through. He blocked your number. You threw your phone across the room, hearing the glass shatter as it hit the wall then the ground. You dropped to the ground, loud cried of misery leaving your body.

It went on like this for days, weeks. You eventually had nothing left to cry. Your mind going numb. Everything reminded you of him. His smell lingering in your once shared apartment. The stuff he ever bothered picking up still sitting around your apartment. Even looking at yourself in the mirror reminds you of him. The way he would compliment very feature on your face, making you develop the confidence he had instilled in you.

All of that leads to now.

The empty apartment and the grumbling stomach. You can’t remember the last time you had a proper meal. Nothing wanting to stay down.

So there you sit. In your empty home. Surrounded by long lost memories of the love you once shared with Harry. Your heart shattered into a million pieces. Feeling uncapable of ever loving again. Thinking of your lost love, thousands of miles away. Missing a piece of your soul, never to be replaced again.

But you’ll be okay. He said you would be.

A soulmate who wasn't meant to be

pt 2

#harry styles blurb #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst

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dawnsedits · 3 years

Text

From the Ashes of Secrets - Chapter 2

Shang-Chi spoilers!

Katy loves him.

He can’t believe it.

Chapter 1 ~ Shangqi/Katy ~ 1.3k ~ AO3

Shangqi stared at her. At Katy. At his best friend. At his girlfriend. At his partner. At his… everything.

She loved him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this coming. They had been going slowly, sure, learning to balance this new side of their relationship with the multiverse of madness they had been plunged into, both of them nervous about wrecking their friendship no matter how often they said nothing ever would. But despite the obstacles, despite the uncertainties, they had grown closer, steadily, naturally, falling in love as easily as they breathed, until he found himself wondering how he had ever not loved her.

Maybe he had. She had been his first friend after he ran away, his first friend in a foreign country. She was the first person to stand up for him since his mother died. She welcomed him into her family without a second thought, and she had showed him how to be a kid again, giving him back the precious gift of youth that his mother’s death and father’s rage had so brutally stolen from him. Time with her buried the pain and guilt of everything he’d lost and done, and it wasn’t so strange to think, looking back on it all, that maybe part of him had loved her all along.

But how could she ever love him in return?

Sure, she hung out with him now, when he very carefully pretended that he was just a dorky guy who liked karaoke and not wrecking other people’s cars. It was easy to befriend someone like that, easy to let someone like that into your life. She didn’t know, though.

She didn’t know anything.

She didn’t know about the blood staining his hands, about the nights he woke up in a cold sweat, his subconscious forever trapped in the feeling of the man’s life draining away beneath his hands. She didn’t know that he had stood by and watched his mother die, or that he had abandoned his little sister to the uncaring fist of their revenge-obsessed father. She didn’t know that, for seven years, he had wanted to be a killer.

She didn’t know that part of him, the darkest part of him, sometimes didn’t even regret the kill.

His own mother would hate the person he had become. So how could Katy – kind, caring, wonderful Katy – ever dream of loving him?

It wasn’t like he could even tell her.

The opportunity had come up before, time and time again. A lull in the conversation, her mother or grandmother trying a little too hard to pry the details out of him, nights when he was drunk enough to be miserable but not quite drunk enough to be brave. But when they were young, he was terrified of being sent home, and when they were older, he was terrified of her knowing. Because if she knew…

If she knew, he would lose her.

If she knew, he would lose his everything.

So he kept his mouth shut. He looked away when she looked like she wanted to ask. He pretended he couldn’t fight. He hid everything he could, from the callouses on his hands to the muscles on his abdomen to the scars on his back. And he lied. He lied again, and again, and again, over and over for a decade.

He wished it had stopped on the bus.

But no. Even with two men holding him back and a third in his face, he kept trying to hide, trying to maintain the illusion he had built, and his father’s man hurt her for it, hurt his best friend because he was too scared to protect her, right before the bus careening out of control nearly got her killed.

And even then, he didn’t stop. He tried to shut her out. He left out the not-so-tiny detail that he had killed the man. And Xialing had to be the one to tell her what a horrific brother he had been.

It was a miracle she was still by his side at that point.

Surely she would leave, though. Surely she would bail when she saw his father’s brutality, the brutality he had inherited. Surely, at some point, as they got dragged deeper and deeper into his past, she would recognize that she had let a monster into her home, and she would get herself out and have nothing to do with him ever again.

He wouldn’t blame her. Katy was loyal, yes, but she was smart, too – smart enough to know that he wasn’t worth risking her life.

But… she didn’t.

She stayed. He nearly let her fall to her death, and she stayed. She saw him killing on that scaffolding, saw him nearly kill a man who was trapped beneath him, and she stayed. She listened to his confession, listened to him say that he would kill his own father, and she stayed. She was plunged right into the heart of all the darkness that had forged the liar and assassin she grew up with, and when it was all over…

She chose him.

She didn’t run. She didn’t kick him out. She didn’t even flinch. She didn’t do anything he had always been convinced she should do if she ever found out.

She only pulled him closer.

And sitting on the shoreline, watching the lanterns float away, peace and grief wrapped around them in equal measure as she laid her head upon his shoulder, he started to think, for the first time in a decade, that maybe, just maybe, someday, he could be worthy of her.

So he laid his head atop hers, breathing easy for the first time since they had met, and silently vowed beneath the stars that he would try to be everything she thought he was.

He told her everything. He taught her how to fight. He saved the world a few times. He did anything and everything he could to earn the awe when she watched him fight, the sparkle in her eye when he made her laugh, the trust she placed in him to keep her and her family safe in the crazy world they were suddenly a part of.

And it worked. As time went on, as he embraced his mother’s legacy and used his father’s greatest weapons for good, as he let his walls down and stopped waiting for the world to come crashing down around him, the constant terror and self-loathing faded, turning to security and confidence as she helped bring out everything she had always seen in him, from the dorky kid who screamed at her to slow down to the Avenger who came soaring in on the back of a dragon to save the world.

Yeah. Life was so much better than he had ever dared imagine it could be.

But ten years of thinking something was a hard habit to kick, and the darkness would always be lurking within him, so lying in bed that morning, part of him still couldn’t believe that she was here, at his side, loving not the façade he had hidden behind, but every inch of him, the good and the bad, the dark and the light.

She loved her best friend and an Avenger.

She also loved a broken man and a killer.

She loved him.

Katy sat back a little, the golden morning light glowing around her like a halo. “Did I- Did that freak you out? Because you don’t have to say it back, I just- I thought-”

He kissed her.

She froze for half a heartbeat, surprised, and then melted into it, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek. He held her closer with the arm that had been wrapped around her all night, his other hand caressing her cheek, slipping into her hair, cradling the back of her head with all of the tenderness he had once thought his blood-stained hands incapable of possessing. He kissed her until they broke apart just enough to breathe, Katy tilting her forehead to rest against his, her hair falling around them like a curtain, a soft smile painting her face with bliss, her eyes drifting shut as she savored the moment.

But his stayed open, memorizing her smile, tracing the curve of it with a delicate thumb, wondering at how incredibly lucky he was.

“I love you, too, Katy,” he whispered.

#xu shangqi #katy chen #shang-chi #shangqi x katy #shangqi fanfic #shang-chi fanfic #katy chen fanfic #shang-chi spoilers #marvel #mcu #my fanfic

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams Tonight

for @chaotic-bard who asked me for some fluff!

have a soulmates that dream about each other au featuring both a modern au and the canon universe!

brought to you by “Dreams Tonite” by Alvvays

---

“You’re nothing but trouble, bard,” the tall man glared from atop his horse. He always seemed to be glaring or glowering or huffing, the man in Jaskier’s dreams. The familiar stranger wore his long white hair pulled halfway back and he had golden eyes, the pupils of which were slit up the center like a cat’s. His name, Jaskier had learned after the third straight week of seeing him every night, was Geralt of Rivia. A Witcher, apparently, whose job it was to hunt down monsters.

“Ah, but what a lovely piece of trouble I am!” Jaskier replies. And he’s rather sassy himself in these dreams. Far more clever and ready to fight than he is when he’s awake. “You would miss me if I left, wouldn’t you, Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

The stranger hums a lot. He glares and he hums. Jaskier’s heart stutters frightfully in his chest whenever the man smiles, though. The sight is rare. Geralt has smiled perhaps three times in the past two months.

“Where are we going today?”

“Werewolf outside of town. You’re staying at the inn, where I know you can’t get into… nevermind. You can get into trouble anywhere.”

There’s a lightly teasing tone to the stranger’s voice that Jaskier hasn’t really heard before. He likes it. He craves more of it. He tosses and turns in his sleep, his skin damp with sweat. The dream goes on.

“Geralt, please,” he whines, “I can’t write ballads about monsters I haven’t seen! Or fights I did not attend! That’s lying to my audience, Geralt, and I simply won’t do it. I must go with you.”

“Drop it, Jaskier,” the man snarls. Jaskier feels sad. Incredibly sad.

Rejected?

“Gera-”

“I said drop it, bard.”

Jaskier wakes up feeling a little heartbroken and he yearns to be held. His pillow holds the fading scents of leather and wood-smoke. The sight of a pine sapling at the dog park makes him tear up.

He starts to wear the color yellow out of nowhere and his taste in jewelry switches from gold to silver.

When his best friend asks him about the recent changes, he cannot answer.

---

Geralt pours himself a mug of tea and shakes his hair out of his face. He’s been having odd dreams lately, things that feel familiar but manage to stay just out of his conscious grasp. Someone important is waiting for him. Someone he love and cares about and needs.

Geralt doesn’t really buy into the concept of soulmates, but he does understand instinct. He knows to trust his gut. He knows to listen and start paying attention when the same haunting blue eyes creep into his dreams every night for six months, plaguing him in the waking hours by refusing to give up their owners’ identity.

He wipes a hand down his face and sighs loudly into the otherwise empty studio apartment. “Fuck me, I gotta figure this shit out. I gotta talk to Yen.”

Talking to himself has always helped him calm down. He does it again, just to hear his own low voice scraping through the silence.

“I gotta see what’s going on with my head. These dreams are… getting to be a bit much, even for me.”

He nods to no one in particular and goes to text his best friend and coworker.

---

Jaskier hops off the bus and carries his guitar case down to the coffee shop on the corner. Finally, he’s managed to get a gig that wasn’t through the university.

He sets up his stuff in the tiny alcove the shop treats as a stage and watches as a few customers stroll around near the counter, waiting for their drinks or reading through the menu, hovering just far away enough from the line to keep others from growing confused.

He loves people watching.

Once everything is ready to go and the light outside the window has dimmed a bit, indicating early evening has finally arrived, he pulls his guitar onto his lap and strums through a few quick chords.

“Rode here on the bus,

Now you're one of us.

It was magic hour,

Counting motorbikes on the turnpike;

One of Eisenhower's.”

“Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who starts a fire just to let it go out?”

He watches a particularly handsome man with broad shoulders and a vintage denim jacket approach the counter. Jaskier adds a haunting, well-practiced lilt to his voice as he goes into the chorus, hoping to get his attention:

“If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight?

If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight, tonight?”

An equally beautiful woman with long, curly black hair approaches the denim-clad angel and whisks him towards a table nearby. She settles with her back to Jaskier, leaving him with a decent view of the man’s sharp, lightly stubbled jaw, glittering eyes, and severe white ponytail. He’s gorgeous.

He’s also uncomfortably familiar.

Jaskier continues to perform, trying to identify his attractive mystery man the whole time and failing miserably.

---

“He’s everywhere, Yen. I feel like I could identify him by scent if I got close enough. I can’t remember his name, though. Or the color of his hair. I don’t know his face, only his eyes. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Have you talked to Dr. deStael about it?”

“Yeah, but she said this kind of thing is normal. Recurring dreams often help us sort out our trauma or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t feel traumatized by this guy I feel… protective of him. Maybe even like I love him?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“Shut up for a minute, this live music actually slaps and I want to listen to it. Then we can discuss your weird possessive tendencies towards your dream boyfriend.”

Geralt takes a slow sip of his coffee and glances up at the singer off to their left, perched on a barstool with his guitar held carefully on his lap. His voice is soft but somehow bright. Geralt finds himself utterly entranced.

“On the weird guitar;

Said you'd go to work

In the waking hour.

In fluorescent light,

Antisocialites watch a wilting flower.”

“Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who builds a wall just to let it fall down?”

The lyrics are strange and hold a dream-like quality to them. They draw a picture in Geralt’s head, something dark and heavy and oddly hollow. He has another sip of coffee and tries to ignore the feeling of panic welling up inside him. He glances at Yennefer to see if she’s picked up on his mood, but her violet eyes are focused on the singer and his nimble fingers as he continues to play and sing.

When he glances up towards their table and their eyes meet, Geralt loses the ability to breathe.

That shade of cornflower blue was…

Couldn’t be…

Had to be…

The gorgeous, feathery tenor continues to fill the air, whirling pleasant notes past his ears and deep into his subconscious. Geralt knows that voice. He’s heard this man laugh and sing and cry and scream a thousand different times. Through a handful of different lives. Geralt knows that face, those hands, those strong legs and long arms and blue fucking eyes. He’s held this singer in his arms every night for centuries, feeling his breathing as they both drift off to sleep.

He has protected this man and been protected by him in return. He has kissed and been kissed, caressed and been caressed. The two men sitting across from each other in the coffee shop physically embody an endless cycle of love. It has been bound up in the souls of two no-longer strangers. Geralt knows that he knows this man.

He knows Jaskier.

Petal pink lips continue to form soft words and slender hands keep plucking at vibrating guitar strings:

“Don't sit by the phone for me,

Wait at home for me, all alone for me.

Your face was supposed to be

Hanging over me, like a rosary.”

Geralt stands suddenly, startling Yennefer but not the performer, even though he’s clearly just as shocked as Geralt about this recent development.

Their mutual realization.

“So morose for me,

Seeing ghosts of me,

Writing oaths to me,

Is it so naïve to wonder…”

Geralt crosses the room to the edge of the stage in three quick strides. Yennefer is close behind him, her latte just as abandoned as his coffee at their table. She grabs her friend’s arm as if to stop him from doing something violent, but when he doesn’t struggle against her grip she lets it go again easily.

“Geralt?” the musician asks.

“Jaskier?” Geralt replies. The guitar is placed quickly to the side and a pair of incredibly familiar arms are thrown around the taller man’s neck. Geralt hugs back just as firmly, his arms flung low around the brunette’s waist. Geralt knows that this is Jaskier’s favorite way to be embraced; he doesn’t know how he’s aware of that fact, but it comes to the front of his mind clear as day.

“Holy shit,” Jaskier breathes, leaning back to stare Geralt in the face. One of his string-calloused fingers traces down over Geralt’s eyelid and cheek and he cocks his head to the side. “No scar?”

“No,” Geralt shakes his head. “Not this lifetime, I guess.”

“Were we? Are we- are we, you know...?”

“Yeah,” Yen beams, adding her two cents from the sidelines. “I think so. Congrats, boys. This is one of those one in a million chances and you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?” Geralt asks. Jaskier tosses his head back and laughs. His happiness rings out through the cafe like a struck bell and Geralt’s heart stutters frantically. He really does love this man already. Wholeheartedly and without fear. “What have we done, Yen?”

“As obtuse now as you were then,” Jaskier chides affectionately. “Soulmates, my love. We’ve been bound by the red string of fate and ta-da! Here we are. Again, apparently.”

“Yes, okay,” Geralt breathes, nosing his way along Jaskier’s jaw with giddy determination. He presses a quick and wholly welcome kiss to the bard’s lips. “That makes sense.”

“Do you... do you want me again? This time around?” Jaskier asks, fingers fiddling with one of the ties on Geralt’s hoodie. A pair of chapped lips press against his again and he sighs into it, melting against his no-longer-Witcher.

“Yes. And the next one, as well.”

#bouncey's sappy hours #geraskier #geraskier fluff #yen #yennefer #yenerference kinda #getting together #soulmate au #prophetic dreams #geraskier soulmate au #geraskier soulmates #shared dreams #modern au #geraskier modern au #kissing #first kiss #magically getting together #prompt fill

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smutbymia · 4 years

Note

Hi 💖 I want to request best friend haechan (and dom) who has been in love w u since always but you have a boyfriend

You punched in your entry code into the keypad of your apartment, causing it to ring out a series of beeps — granting you access to the space you shared with your roommate who also happened to be your best friend.

All of the lights were off and it was 1AM so you figured Haechan had fallen asleep already. You sighed to yourself, feeling exhausting and a bit off after yet another crappy date with your boyfriend.

You had been dating for 6 months and things were going really well for a majority of that time until recently. You guys were starting to argue more and it overall felt like less effort was being put in by him. It was actually a bit difficult to accept because you genuinely put your all into the relationship but you weren’t giving up just yet.

You sighed to yourself after taking off your shoes and sliding your feet into your house slippers when you walked into the living room to find Haechan on the couch with the only source of light being the dim light of some movie he was playing on screen. He paused it when you entered.

“Are you okay? Did something happen again?” he questioned. You avoided his gaze and waved your hand out, heading in the direction of your bedroom.

“Ah, just the usual crap. It’s all good,” you muttered.

“Break up with him!” Haechan yelled down the hall after you. The only response he received was the frustrating slam of your bedroom door as you called it a night.

The next morning Haechan made breakfast. You woke up to the aroma of eggs, bacon, and pancakes filling your apartment. After freshening up you entered the kitchen.

“Hyuck...” you whined when you saw the extravagant spread of breakfast foods set out for you to eat.

“I was in the mood to cook,” he shrugged. You leaned against the fridge with your eyes narrowed and your arms crossed while you pouted.

“Liar,” you said. Haechan always made you breakfast whenever you were having bad days in order to cheer you up.

“You just feel bad,” you grumbled as you were walking past him towards the dining table. Just as you stepped past him, Haechan pulled you into a back hug. You froze momentarily before settling into his touch. He rested his chin on the top of your head and squeezed you tightly. His warmth was comforting.

“Just enjoy your meal,” he mumbled before releasing you. And in that moment you felt very grateful to know your best friend was always there for you when you needed him.

The next time you needed Haechan was actually much sooner than the both of you expected. This time it was 12AM.

TAEYONG: Hey.... are you up?

TAEYONG: I’m in a bit of a situation

TAEYONG: y/n is here and she’s really drunk

Taeyong is typing........

Before Taeyong’s last message could come in, Haechan was already ringing him up. On the phone Taeyong had explained that you had come to the bar he worked at by yourself and started drinking heavily. You had explained to him that you got into a fight with your boyfriend and needed a few drinks. Taeyong claimed that by your 4th drink, your boyfriend had stormed into the bar and caused a scene before he was escorted outside by security a mere few seconds before Taeyong texted Haechan. Taeyong wanted to know if he could come and pick you up since you were too drunk to get home in your own.

Haechan however, was already heading through the door before Taeyong even picked up the phone. The bar wasn’t far from where you both lived, just an 8 minute walk on foot. Haechan got there even faster than that, jogging most of the way there — thankful that it was still summertime and the weather was quite nice even this late at night.

When he approached the bars entrance, Haechan found your boyfriend surrounded by about 3 security guards caught up in a massive argument. When your boyfriend caught sight of Haechan, he immediately tried to approach him.

“HEY! Help me out here,” he began, “Tell these idiots that I’m y/n’s boyfriend and that they’re doing this for no reason!”

Haechan rolled his eyes. “You’re drunk. Go home,” he responded, but your boyfriend began to protest. He pushed through the guards momentarily and charged towards Haechan, but was instantly met with a punch straight to the face that left him on the ground groaning in pain.

Haechan shook his hand off before reaching into his pocket and grabbing out a few bills to hand over to the security guard before muttering, “get him into a cab.”

He turned around, not bothering to wait for a response from the guards before swinging the front door of the bar open and entering the building. “Gosh, what a loser,” he complained.

Haechan's eyes immediately drifted over towards the bar where you were seated, propped up on your elbows with your hands cupping your face. You stared off into the distance and Haechan could feel his heart ache a little bit for you.

He slid into the seat next to you and rested a hand on your back. “Let’s go home,” he said in a soft voice, moving his hand in small circles.

You turned to him slowly, tears pooling in your eyes — so happy to see him there. He ran a thumb underneath your eyes, cleaning off smudged mascara, before gripping you tightly to his side in order to prevent you from stumbling too much when you walked.

He gave Taeyong who was serving customers on the other end of the bar a quick wave to let him know you were both leaving. By the time the two of you returned outside your boyfriend was long gone. Haechan held you close to him as you began your walk home.

You couldn’t fight back the tears any longer, quietly letting them spill down your cheeks. Haechan looked down when he started to feel wetness seep through the side of his shirt your face was leaning into.

He immediately stopped the two of you before stepping in front of you and holding you with both arms out in front of him. He lowered himself slightly so that he could look up at you seeing as you had been hanging your head, eyes glued to the floor to avoid his gaze with a sad expression on your face.

“Hey, stop that. You know I don’t like seeing you cry,” he said to you softly. You frantically wiped your fingers under your eyes, trying to get rid of the tears after feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you.

“S-sorry, I just feel like such a lonely drunk loser right now,” you said. Haechan tried his best to hold back his laughter but failed miserably. Your description had been funny but what made him really laugh was the cute expression on your face as you pouted. He was gazing up at you when you finally lifted your eyes to meet his with your dark and wet eyelashes that clumped together making Haechan’s heart momentarily skip a beat as his laughter went quiet.

He quickly snapped out of it, eyes drifting behind you to a 24 hour convenience store. “Alright, fine. I can change that,” he said, pulling you by your hand towards the store. You stumbled slightly behind him, clutching your purse and trying your best to keep up with him.

You crossed the street, hand still in Haechan's grasp when he pulled out a chair for you and urged you to sit outside and wait for him to shop around. You smoothed down the skirt of your minidress as you sat down, head still spinning.

Within a few minutes, which really felt like a few seconds in drunk time, Haechan had emerged from the store with a bag in his hand. He slid your favourite strawberry candies across the table to you and you squealed happily, before he began emptying the contents of his bag onto the table. He had bought a bunch of beers and immediately cracked one open to down it in one go before opening the next one.

“What are you doing? Slow down,” you said as you popped one of the jellies past your lips and into your mouth.

Haechan shook his head. “You can’t be a lonely drunk if I get drunk with you,” he murmured as the second can met his lips. This time he drank about half of its contents before setting it down on the table in front of you both and reaching for one of your jellies.

Your cheeks went warm and for the first time that night you smiled a genuine smile. Haechan smiled back at you before starting a random conversation about his middle school days which caused you to go back and forth over a series of topics and stories — ending with the both of you dying of laughter in front of the convince store. You shared the last few beers with Haechan causing him to finally become almost equally as drunk as you were.

After cleaning up the two of you stumbled home together in a fit of giggles. “D-do you feel better now,” haechan slurred as he pressed his lips to your ears. You giggled at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin. The sound of our laugh made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. God, he loved you, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, you’re actually a bit funny when you’re drunk,” you teased. Haechan pouted before mumbling a quick, “whatever,” making you chuckle as you approached your apartment door. You were still pressed to Haechan’s side, strolling down the hall with his arm around you when your phone buzzed at your side between the two of you.

You separated yourself from him momentarily to reach into your purse, fumbling around for your phone. When you pulled it out to check the notifications you found yourself staring at a screen full of messages and missed calls from your boyfriend urging you to call him back with a series of apologetic texts and another about getting punched in the face by Haechan.

“You punched him?!” you half yelled at haechan while you frantically scrolled through the messages. Haechan groaned before reaching for your phone and plucking it from your fingers. You tried to grab it back but he held it out of your reach, turning it off where both of you could see. You whined his name the entire time as you watched the screen go black.

“Hey! I need to talk to him,” you pleaded but Haechan’s face simply went stone cold before he pocketed your phone and walked right past you, tapping the code to your apartment in on the keypad before swinging the door open without a word.

You stomped your way into your apartment hot on his trail, cursing him the entire way and demanding for your phone back. It only took a few seconds for Haechan to reach his limit. The door closed behind you and within seconds he had you pinned to the back of it, cutting you off mid sentence as one of his hands forced your hips back and the other found itself around your neck.

You let out a gasp as Haechan’s face hovered a few centimetres away from your own. His breath was hot and smelled of alcohol and strawberry sweets. He spoke in a deep and low tone.

“You’re not calling him tonight. In fact you won’t be calling him ever again, do you understand me?” he warned. You stared back at him -- not saying a word, as your breathing got heavier. What the hell was going on?

Haechan stepped closer to you, his body pressing into yours before he spoke again. “I’m tired of seeing you cry over that piece of shit. He can’t make you happy, or treat you the way you know you deserve to be treated,” he said as his voice grew louder.

“Do you know how much it pisses me off every time I hear you come home from your dates just to lay in bed and play with yourself because he can’t even do the bare minimum and make you cum?” he said through gritted teeth. You let out a gasp before stuttering “H-haechan!” You were burning up from the embarrassment that you felt from his explicit words. “Did you know that whenever you get drunk, it’s my name that you cry out anytime you make yourself cum all over your little fingers?” he asked.

“W-what??” you answered. Yes, you had the occasional wet dream about Haechan but you didn’t think much of it, yet now you were internally freaking out at that fact that those thoughts may have caused you to let his name slip whenever you drunkenly masturbated. You felt him harden against your front as he covered your mouth with his fingers and dropped his voice down to a pleading whisper.

“And do you know how much it turns me on when I think about all the ways I’d make you cum, instead?” His eyes danced all over your face, resting on your lips. He reached his other hand into his pocket and pulled out your phone, not moving even an inch away from you. He held it up next to your faces, just close enough for it to be in your line of sight even though the two of you drunkenly gazed into each other’s eyes. Your head spun and your chest rose and fell at your best friends proximity and the feeling of him hard, and firmly pressed against your core.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll give you your phone back,” he said. His words were followed by a silence that was broken by a whimper that managed to escape your lips when you accidentally moved your hips causing you to rub against his cock briefly. Haechan struggled to remain still as he let out a quick breath at the sudden contact.

You stayed frozen in your position against the door with your eyes still locked on his when you reached up and grabbed the phone. You watched as his face flashed a quick look of momentary disappointment before completely catching him off guard by dropping the phone along with your purse onto the floor next to you and leaning into him to press your lips against his, rotating your hips to grind your centres against each other.

Haechan pulled his mouth off of yours to let out a deep groan. “That’s my good girl,” he said, running the back of his knuckles over your cheeks as he met each roll of your hips with a thrust of his. He returned to your mouth deepening your kiss as his movements became more aggressive. He gripped at your neck, tilting your head to the side as he trailed kisses along your flesh, stopping briefly to Mark your skin.

“You’re mine now,” he said as he planted a soft peck over the fresh hickey that had formed on your skin. The two of you continued to make out, kicking your shoes off and stumbling away from the door and into the apartment. He ran his hands all over your body as the two of you sloppily stumbled down your hallway.

Haechan’s room was the closest bedroom to the entrance so that is where the two of you ended up. He slammed the door behind the two of you before you fell onto his mattress. He mounted you, completely covering your body with his as the two of you grabbed and groped at each other’s bodies.

His hand brushed up along your leg and over your thigh as it made its way under your dress. Haechan’s hand danced across the waistband of your undies as his tongue circled into your mouth, the two of you moaning into each others touches. You had already soaked through your panties and Haechan was about to come to that realization.

“Fuck... you’re so wet, baby,” he muttered as he brushed two of his fingers back and forth over the cotton material. You whimpered, grinding into his touch for additional friction as you squeezed your thighs together around his hand.

“Open,” he ordered as pressed down on your clit through your panties. You let out a loud moan in response before you reluctantly separated your thighs to give him better access to your core.

“Good girl... You’re good at taking orders, right?” he praised while he drew heavy circles over your bud. Your body shuddered. Something about the way he spoke to you was driving you crazy. You didn’t know how or why but he clearly established the power dynamic that existed between the two of you now and you couldn’t help but follow it.

You melted under his touch, moaning softly as you felt yourself grow even more aroused. Haechan played with you for a few more seconds before moving to pull the material down to your thighs, too impatient to remove them entirely. He flipped up the bottom of your dress, pausing to praise your “pretty pussy” (his words).

Haechan brought your legs together, folding them up — your undies still around your thighs. This put you in a position where you were laying on your back and haechan could admire both your ass and your core from this angle.

“Mmm,” he murmured as he leaned down. You couldn’t see him too well from that position so you jumped in surprise when you felt his mouth connect with your center. Since he folded your legs up, your lips were squished together, puffing up your clit and putting it on full display. Haechan licked over and over again up and down your slit, loving the way your pussy looked all flufffy when he had you like this.

You could feel your juices gushing out of you and dripping down your ass when he slipped a finger in, immediately hitting your g spot from that angle. You groaned as you felt tension begin to build up inside of your pelvis.

“I need you naked, right now,” he ordered. You scrambled to your feet feeling weak in the knees as he Haechan joined you, lifting himself off the bed to unzip the back of your dress before stripping himself down until he was naked too.

He was rock hard and you could see tiny beads of pre-cum forming at his tip as you instinctively licked your lips, zeroing your eyes in on him.

Haechan giggled when he followed your gaze to the spot between his legs and began pumping at his length softly while you looked on.

“baby?” he asked. The pet name still made you melt twelve times over but that wasn’t even important right now. You nodded your head as you watched the way his fingers danced over his skin, making himself throb in his own hands.

“Lay back down for me,” he ordered and you followed quickly, thoughts racing. After propping you up in a half seated position with some extra pillows, Haechan positioned himself between your legs and sat back.

“Play with yourself,” he ordered next. You hesitated, slightly embarrassed when you remembered Haechan mentioning overhearing you.

“Don’t be shy. Trust me, I’ve heard you enough times already. So this time I want to see you,” he urged. He continued to pump at his length as you let your hands fall between your legs. You kept your eyes glued on his cock, watching as he ran his fist up and down his shaft before letting himself fall from his grasp to squeeze at his balls, moaning under his own touch.

Haechan wasn’t shy at all. He was beautiful and he knew that very well. You watched his abs flex as his entire body contracted whenever the pleasure he was inflicting upon himself became too intense.

Looking at him turned you on so much that you found yourself touching your own body with ease. You ran your index and middle finger over your slit a few times, feeling your juices spread between your folds. You shuttered as you spread your wetness over yourself, making your skin slick with extra moisture. You then used your index finger to draw circles all over your swollen clit — dragging your fingers back and forth over the soft bud, finally allowing yourself to get quicker with your pace.

Haechan watched you intently. The way your chest shook with each breath you let out and the way your legs were spread apart in front of him had him losing his mind. “Fuck, that’s right baby. You’re doing so well. Going to make me cum just by looking at you,” he groaned as his grip tightened around himself.

You were getting closer to your orgasm, wrists beginning to go weak when you slipped your fingers off of your clit and back and forth down your folds a few more times before slipping to of your fingers into your hole.

“Haechannn...” you mewled, as you slid into yourself, the sound of your wetness drawing a loud and higher moan from Haechan’s lips. He sounded heavenly.

“Shit, you have no idea how fucking pretty you look moaning my name like that,” he praised.

He gripped one of your thighs, sending you into a daze but refusing to interrupt the show you were putting on for him.

“G-gonna cum,” you mumbled. You felt his grip tighten as you watched him jerk himself through your hooded eyes.

“Go ahead, baby. I’m watching,” he encouraged. You reached out for Haechan as he moved closer to you. Your eyes fell shut and you tugged at the arm he was using to jerk off — forcing him to let go of hisself before slipping his fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. You suckled at his fingers, tasting the bit of pre-cum that had spilled onto them when you felt the pleasure overcome you. You writhed around in Haechan’s bed, cumming quietly around your own fingers before your eyes fluttered open again.

Haechan gazed down at you through glazed eyes as he watched the lines on your face disappear as your orgasm finally calmed down. He slowly slid his fingers out of your mouth, letting them drag across your lips as he cursed to himself. His cock was still rock hard, dying to be taken care of.

“Wow, if you look that pretty now I wonder what you’ll look like when you do that on my dick,” he said softly. His words were vulgar but his voice dripped in honey. He reached his hand down to run softly over your slit, making you twitch under his touch.

“So wet... need to feel this right now,” haechan slipped his fingers into his mouth to taste you. “You’ll be a good girl and take me even though you’re still so sensitive right?” he said as he pressed down on your clit, making you groan in agony and jerk your hips upward.

“Come and bend over for me right here,” he said, dropping his voice and patting a spot beside him. You crawled into position, looking over your shoulder once you were on all fours.

Haechan met your gaze as he positioned himself behind you. You could feel his shaft brushing against your lips and the sensation caused arousal to build up once again in your core.

He ran his palms over your ass, gripping ever so softly at your cheeks before landing a firm slap on your skin. You groaned at the contact, instinctively pushing your hips back and grinding your wetness against him.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he froze. He shuffled around behind you, pumping at his length as he teased your entrance. He slid into you slowly, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I want you to listen to me carefully okay, baby?” he warned.

“Y-yes,” you murmured, pushing back against him to try to get him deeper. Haechan held you by your waist firmly, not letting you quicken the pace. He wanted you to feel very last inch of him enter you.

“Don’t be so impatient, baby,” he warned as he slowed down even more, making you groan in frustration.

“Please, haechan...” you begged, and the sound of your voice had him snapping his hips the rest of the way into you as he bottomed out. You groaned his name in response as he began to slowly fuck into you, increasing his speed after a few agonizing minutes of you whimpering around his cock while he sang praises in your ears and reminded you to follow the orders he gave you unless you wanted to be punished even more.

Soon enough when he was satisfied with your obedience, Haechan began to move at a much faster pace. He was thrusting into you quickly, landing slaps against your ass after praising the sound of your squeals whenever his hand connected. Finally he diverted your gaze to a floor length mirror that was positioned in front of you on the wall in front of his bed.

“If you ever even think about going back to that idiot I want you to remember exactly how you look right now,” he said as he ordered you to observe your reflection in the mirror. You carried a fucked out expression on your face. Your tits shook with every thrust he delivered into you from behind, and your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth as your mind went fuzzy. His hips continued to snap forward into you. You could feel the head of his penis brush against the deepest parts of you, knowing you had almost reached your limit.

You let out a loud groan when haechan lifted your torso up, pressing your back against his front to fuck you from a different angle. He thrusted up into you as he spoke his final words. “And I want you to remember how this feels anytime you even think of another man,” he spat. “No one - other than - me - could ever - make you - feel - this - good,” he said fucking into you over and over again until your head lolled back to rest against his shoulder.

“Now cum for me,” he ordered. Your mind went blank, overcome with only the feeling of your orgasm. You could feel your throat go dry, as you let out a series of moans and screams of pleasure but your ears were filled with only white noise. Your lips moved to let Haechan’s name fall from them over and over again but the sound never reached you. It wasn’t until you could feel the warmth of your best friend spilling into you and filling you up so much that you could feel him seeping out of you again, that you started to return back to reality.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck!” moaned haechan as he held you tightly, shaking ever so slightly against your back as he fought to hold both of your bodies up. You had gone limp and gasped for air before the two of you separated from each other to lay down.

The room felt like it was spinning when you both closed your eyes for a moment, reminding you both of how intoxicated you still were.

“Y/n,” haechan said between deep breaths.

“Y-yes?” you responded.

“I know this might not be the best time to say this but if it wasn’t already painfully obvious, I think... no, I’m 100% sure that I’m in love with you,” he confessed.

“So don’t you dare think that this was a one time thing. Always remember who you belong to,” he said as he reached over to pull you to his chest.

You chuckled against him, before responding “so I don’t have a choice?”

Haechan groaned, “we live together, and i literally just came inside of you. If you weren’t on the pill we would be one step closer to starting a whole ass family. At this rate, all that’s left is for us to get married... what’s left to discuss, baby?” he murmured as he dropped kisses on top of your head.

You swatted at his chest before planting a kiss on his lips. “Who said I was on the pill?” you joked. Haechan froze before pulling away from you to look you in the eyes with a slightly panicked look on his face.

“Y-you let me... do that? Even though you could easily get pregnant?” Haechan dropped his head back before groaning, “ugh, that’s so hot”

Your jaw fell open in shock as you swatted at his chest once more, making him wince in pain. “Haechan, are you crazy? I was just kidding,” you said as he pouted — genuinely disappointed that you had lied.

“Hey, I’m obviously not in a rush or anything. Besides, you still have to get rid of your OTHER boyfriend before I can actually put a baby inside of you,” he said rolling his eyes. You gasped at his words before the two of you fell into laughter.

The rest of the night was spent like this. After cleaning you up you moved to your room instead (cleaner sheets) and talked the way you usually did, this time with a few extra kisses and suggestive touches on the side. Haechan was probably more happy than you were. After ages of trying to get you to dump your shitty boyfriend he finally managed to make you his. And he vowed to himself to treat you much better than anyone else ever could to make up for all of the shitty experiences you had to go through.

The next morning you woke up in bed alone with the smell of breakfast pulling you out of your sleep. After freshening up and slipping on one of his T-shirts, you went to the kitchen where you knew Haechan would be waiting for you.

“Yesterday wasn’t a bad day. Why’d you make breakfast?” you questioned, making your way over to him.

“Do I need a reason to cook for my girlfriend?” he scoffed. The word girlfriend made you feel warm inside. He titled your head up for a quick peck.

“Now enjoy your meal so i can have dessert,” he said suggestively, squeezing at your ass before you both sat down to eat.

“You’re not supposed to have dessert with breakfast!” you said.

“So, I can’t eat your pussy after we’re done eating then?” he said.

You gasped, fork falling against your plate. “Haechan, you can’t just say things like that!” He shrugged and flashed you a cheeky smile.

“Why not? It’s not like anyone else lives here besides us. Plus, I’ve always wanted to bend you over the kitchen counter and taste you,” he said matter-of-factly.

You rolled your eye as you picked up your fork to continue eating as haechan went off on a tangent.

“And when you were cleaning the shower last week I thought about how great it would be to...” he continued before you kicked him under the table, making the both of you break into laughter again while Haechan ignored your warnings and continued to list off all the fantasies of you he had collected over the years — some sounding outright impossible and ridiculous, but leaving you thinking to yourself that you could certainly get used to mornings, days, weeks and years like this. In fact, you would be more than happy to spend a lifetime with him.

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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

Text

The Long Way Home

Chapter Two: Professor?

AN: It’s my birthday and I’m feeling great so I decided to post today rather than tomorrow. Thank you to everyone that has taken an interest in this story and thank you for the support!

Trigger Warnings: drug use/abuse, mentions of verbal abuse

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist: @iloveeverything-09, @eiferundruhe

Chapter Three: What the Hell Happened to Him?

Hank put his head down, "Told you there was no ‘Professor’ here," he remarked with a shrug, starting to clean up a table that was covered in things.

"What the hell happened to him?" Logan asked, shocked to see his old mentor in such a state.

Hank stood in silence for a moment deliberating whether he should explain or not. With a sigh he placed a bottle down and looked at the desk below him.

"He lost everything. Raven, Erik, his legs..." Hank trailed off, thinking of someone else that he lost, but he decided it was best not to mention it. "He built the school, the labs...this whole place," he continued, pouring himself a drink. "Then, just after the first semester, the war in Vietnam got worse. Many of the teachers and older students were drafted...and it broke him. He retreated into himself, I...I wanted to help do something so I designed a serum that treated his spine. Derived from the second formula, that was for me, that controls my mutation. I take just enough to keep myself balanced but...he takes too much. I tried easing him back but he just couldn't take the pain, the voices. The treatment gives him his legs but its not enough...he's just lost too much," Hank looked back up at Logan, and smiled distantly before taking a sip from his glass.

Upstairs, Charles was pouring himself a drink, in an attempt to forget the memories he didn't wish to think of. As he downed a good portion of the alcohol, suddenly, it all came rushing back, the buzzing of hushed tones he so terribly wanted to push away was beginning to torment him.

Charles' arm immediately shot out to reach for a cloth to wrap around his arm. After struggling briefly to tie it around his arm, he pulled it tight with his teeth as his hand shakily reached out to a small table where a syringe and a small vial rested upon. Charles grabbed the needle and the vial of serum before filling the needle with liquid and pressed it into his skin, letting the solution take its effects.

He laid back in his chair and looked over to his nightstand, but he had to look past the countless bottles to see it. There under the only source of light in the dark, musky room was a small, untouched framed photo of Raven. The Raven he knew. The memory of when they first met had rolled through his mind. His mind then drifted to Erik and how he stole Raven from his life. He stole Raven, made her into a completely different person.

But Erik also gave him Claudia. Charles would have probably never met her if it weren't for Erik's vendetta against Sebastian Shaw. But alas she was another loss. Charles remembered the shine in her eyes, the way her lips curved when she smiled, and how strong she seemed the way she carried herself. She was a friend to everyone she met.

Charles closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears and the memories of the two people he loved most. Raven and Claudia. He knew he couldn't save Raven on that beach in Cuba, but Claudia, she could've stayed.

Back downstairs, Logan couldn't but feel that Charles and Hank were tiptoeing around someone and he didn't understand why. Logan glanced down at Charles' desk noticing something that he hadn't before. A picture frame lying face down on the desk, reaching his hand out Logan grabbed the silver frame and flipped it to face him. In the picture was a young, African-American woman who couldn't have been no older than twenty-four.

She had neck length black hair that was styled in a windblown look, her bangs parted to the side. She was looking back at the camera with a wide grin, holding an ornament as she decorated a Christmas tree that was in the picture as well. The Charles he knew mentioned a woman he knew long ago before Logan made this journey, a woman who Charles cared for deeply. Claudia. That was the woman's name if Logan remembered correctly, he wondered if they were one and the same.

"So, this is Claudia," Logan commented, looking up from the picture. Hank froze. He hadn't heard that name spoken aloud in years. By the looks of Hank's expression and his reaction, Logan's suspicions were confirmed. "Heh, I didn't know the professor liked them young," he quipped, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hank snatched the frame away from Logan.,"God, It wasn't like that," he stated, rolling his eyes. "Yes, there was an age gap, but they were very much in love with each other," Hank explained, looking down at the photo briefly and sighing. "They truly made each other happy," he added softly, before placing the photo face down on the desk again.

"What happened between them?"

"Remember that depression I told you that Charles fell into?" Hank asked, resuming his cleaning.

"Yeah,"

"Claudia was there, she was there for all of it. She tried to stick by him, she really did, but she just couldn't take it anymore," Hank paused, as he exchanged a brief look with Logan. "They fought a lot, she was sick of Charles' behavior of being a drunkard. She was tired of feeling more like a maid to Charles than the woman he claimed to love. And well Charles, one moment he's the loving man Claudia fell in love with and in the next he's a mean drunk," Hank explained, picking up empty bottles. "As tough as a woman Claudia is, I knew that some of the things that Charles said got under her skin. She was miserable here, but it all came to a tipping point in 1967," Hank continued, throwing the bottles into a trash bin.

"She left him, didn't she?"

"Yes, by the end of '67 she was gone," Hank answered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "The night she had left, it felt strangely peaceful. The atmosphere in the mansion didn't feel so heavy. That was until I heard Charles' bedroom door slam open and the both of them shouting. Claudia was done, she was over it. She told Charles that she couldn't keep pretending that they were this happy couple, so for her own sake she was leaving him. She said, if he wanted to remain on his path to self-destruction then be her guest, but she wasn't going to be apart of it. She wasted years of her life trying to help a man who doesn't want it," he recalled, shaking his head as he leaned against the desk in behind of him.

Logan frowned, "And how did Charles take that?" he questioned, feeling like he already knew the answer.

"Not well, not well at all," Hank replied, shaking his head again. "He said some pretty hurtful things to her. He told her to go ahead and leave, he didn't need her. Charles called Claudia a 'useless woman' and claimed that maybe he'd be happier if she wasn't here. I...I’ve never seen Claudia look so hurt, so betrayed in all the years I've known her," Hank looked down sadly, now crossing his arms against his chest. "She actually began to tear up and responded quietly saying 'that makes two of us' before she reached down to her finger and slid off her ring and threw it at Charles," Hank sighed, his mind replaying that night.

"Claudia, Claudia, wait! Please, Claudia, just slow down! Please, just listen-" Hank begged.

"Wait! Charles and Claudia were married?" Logan asked, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

"No, just engaged," Hank explained. "They dated for three years, and then Charles proposed to her in '66. As you can tell now, it didn't work out," he sighed, shaking his head slightly. "The last thing Claudia said when she left the mansion was 'this whole thing was a mistake'," Hank added, with a frown as he folded his arms against his chest.

Logan sighed looking at Hank and shook his head. He was sent here for a reason, and now he can't seem to get the job done. He was risking many people's lives if he didn't change this now.

"I'll help you get her," he heard a voice from behind. He smirked and turned around, "Not for any of your future shite, but for her," Charles announced, coming down the stairs.

Logan mused over this and nodded, "Fair enough," he agreed.

"But I'll tell you this. You don't know Erik. That man is a monster. A murderer. You think you can convince Raven to change?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "To come home? That's splendid. But what makes you think you can change him?" Charles questioned, his tone growing bitter.

"Because you and Erik sent me back here together," Charles stared at him, surprised at the unexpected words. Logan scratched the back of his head, before crossing his arms together. "You are not going to like this, but you told me, practically begged me to get Claudia as well," Logan added, waiting for Charles' reaction.

He scoffed and shook his head, "That, I cannot do,"

That was a pain he had buried away and didn't wish to dredge back up anytime soon, he felt the same for Raven and that old wound was most definitely raw now. He had managed to control his emotions now whenever Raven was mentioned, to a point. But Claudia? That was something else entirely. She was his first love, the woman he wanted to marry, the woman he almost married.

"Charles, listen to me," Logan told him, looking down. "You are going to regret this just as you did when you told me to get her. If you want to save her, this is your only chance,"

Hank frowned at his words and Charles' angry expression dropped, forming into a sad and confused expression.

"Save her?" Hank asked, asking what Charles was not able to.

Logan nodded turning to look at him, "Claudia didn't make it, she's dead," he informed, shaking his head.

"Dead?" Charles repeated, sounding suddenly breathless from this revelation.

Charles clutched at his chest and inhaled deeply, suddenly not feeling too well. Like the world around him was spinning and he was stationary, Charles closed his eyes, guilt swarming inside him.

"Claudia is dead because of me,"

Chapter Four: Recruiting for a Jailbreak

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #erik lehnsherr x reader #charles xavier x reader #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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writer-ish · 3 years

Text

grace (Mason x f!Detective)

Some of you may know my new co-obsession (along with @playchoices) is @seraphinitegames‘ The Wayhaven Chronicles and one (1) grumpy Greek vampire in particular.

Anyway, this little drabble was in my head after completing the Book 3 Demo for the millionth time and now you all need to be subjected to it as well. Enjoy? (Takes place sometime after Book 2, but before “that scene” in Book 3)

tags: @utterlyinevitable , @ethansramsey , @otherworldlypresents , @aworldoffandoms , @raleighcarrera , @ejunkiet , @starrystarrytrouble , @terrm9 (reply or dm for add/removal!)

grace

Pairing: Mason x f!Detective (Grace Bennett) Length: 3.2k words | Rating: T (Language) Summary: A detective and a vampire try not to catch feelings for one another OR denial is not just a river in Egypt.

“It only ever works if one of you cares more than the other.”

It was something Tina had said once, in a rare, cynical moment, fresh off a break up.

The two of them had gone out for drinks post-patrol one night and, as the evening wore on, Tina’s mood had descended in direct correlation with the growing number of empty glasses around them. Still, it hadn’t been until the cigarettes came out that Grace had really known they were in trouble.

“Trust me, Gracie.” Her friend had punctuated her words with haphazard gestures, cigarette wobbling precariously between two fingers, a fine dusting of ash drifting down to the table. Taking a drag, she’d released a thick plume of smoke from her mouth and nostrils before continuing.

“There’s no such thing as equal when it comes to love. There is always the giver and the receiver. The one who cares more. Who loves more. And—”

At this, she’d pointed the glowing ember at the end of her cigarette right in Constable Grace Bennett’s face.

“—You better hope it’s them and not you.”

Former Constable, now Detective Grace Bennett hadn’t thought about those words much in the subsequent years. Relationships weren’t really her forte, after all. There had been the disastrous two years in college with Bobby — in hindsight, one could hardly attribute “love” to anything that had happened between them — and, more recently, a few first dates that sometimes turned into second dates before fizzling out completely.

Hardly the stuff of romance novels.

So it was unfortunate that Tina’s old advice had chosen to rear its ugly head in her mind now, of all times, when Grace had found herself in a—situation where love was the absolute last thing she wanted to consider.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about Mason. Of course she did.

What else would you call almost incurring the wrath of an entire civilization of ancient Estonian mirror creatures at the expense of saving his miserable life?

It was just that things were...

Complicated.

Leaning against her beat-up silver hatchback, she willed the pounding of her heart to settle as the night spring air enveloped her in its cool breeze. She took deep and even breaths in and out of her nostrils, contemplating just how complicated things were, exactly.

First of all, wasn’t dating a colleague generally frowned upon?

Grace had never broken that rule in all her years on the force and she hadn’t had any intention of doing it as a detective, either, never mind as part of her mother’s top secret supernatural government agency.

Not only that, but what if said colleague had also made it abundantly clear, in more ways than one, that they weren’t looking for anything exclusive or serious in any capacity?

Had, in fact, made it a point to preface almost every sexual encounter with some variation of those very words?

And to even further complicate matters, what if said commitment-phobe colleague also happened to be supernatural themselves? More specifically, a vampire who was a few years shy of his centennial?

What then?

And yet — bear with her, here — let’s say, said commitment-phobe centenarian vampire colleague also looked at her as though she were the only human on this planet that he gave a damn about, the only one who could make his smile curl up on both sides, the only one who warmed those steel-grey eyes into molten embers, the one who—

Her train of thought cut off abruptly as she heard the doors open to the police station. There was a thick fog cutting the night air, the warmth of the day lazily giving way to the coolness of the night, imparting an almost dream-like quality onto an otherwise ordinary parking lot.

Grace waited, peering through the haze, until the object of her musings appeared. His unruly dark waves swung around his cheeks, just barely brushing his collarbone as he stalked towards her, hands buried deep in his pockets. His shoulders were hunched up close to his ears, which she knew was scant protection from the cold he must be feeling.

Her heart inadvertently gave a little pang at the thought and she could’ve sworn she saw his gaze narrow slightly as it happened.

She continued to take him in while she could, eyes lingering on the crystal around his neck that seemed to glow from within, a warm cerulean pulsation, before drifting over his leather jacket, burgundy henley, and worn-in jeans, half-tucked into his partially laced boots.

“Thanks for waiting,” was the first thing he said once he was in ear-shot.

Any passer-by might have thought he was sincere: Thanks for waiting for me by the car. For not leaving when you could have. Thanks for offering me a ride.

Grace, however, understood the sarcastic undercurrent of his words. Thanks for leaving me in there to deal with your mother and the rest of the agents. Nate’s disapproving glances and Felix’s gleeful ones. Thanks for ditching me.

There was never any true bite to his words, though, not anymore—even the borderline derisive ones. Instead, he stopped about a foot in front of her and straightened, his full lips quirked slightly, an unlit cigarette dangling between them. She had to crane her neck to look up at him and his grin grew wider.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he murmured, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

She cleared her throat, unable to stop the blush from creeping up her neck.

Even after all they’d been through — all they’d done — she still couldn’t prevent the slow crawl of heat that always seemed to accompany his presence.

“Yeah,” she said gruffly, turning to open her door and hoping maybe this time he hadn’t noticed.

One glance at the way he rolled his lips, hiding an ever-growing smirk as he rounded the back bumper of her car to go to the passenger side, told her that there was no chance she had been that lucky.

They got in quietly and she started the ignition — on the third try, ignoring his snort and slow headshake — before they were off.

“You know,” she said after a beat, even though she kicked herself for always being the one to break the silence, “I don’t think I need a babysitter anymore. Things seem quiet now.”

Mason scoffed.

“Things are never quiet,” he replied bluntly. “There’s just the hurricane or the eye of the storm.”

She felt his eyes on her after a moment and she held her breath, waiting for him to continue.

“Why? Getting sick of my company, sweetheart?”

“No!” she blurted out quickly—too quickly. “It’s not that, it’s just—I mean, I feel bad for you, to be honest. I’m sure there’s other things you’d rather be doing—”

“There’s nothing — and no one — else I’d rather be doing right now.” He’d said the words casually enough, as though completely unaware of the tumult they would cause within her system, his head still tilted languidly against the headrest of her passenger seat as he watched her.

“Well—” She fumbled for words. “That’s—I’m glad.” Nice one.

He chuckled low in his throat. “What is it about you being flustered that just gets me going?” He shook his head. “I’ll never know.”

She couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her. “I hate it,” she admitted. “You make me feel like my brain is constantly short-circuiting.”

“I’ll take that compliment.”

She took her eyes off the road briefly to look over at him. Sure enough, he was still staring right at her with a little smile quirking the side of his mouth up. She couldn’t help the return smile that she felt crinkling up the corners of her eyes.

His face changed slightly, smile dropping.

“Jesus, sweetheart, keep smiling at me like that and you might need to pull over.” He fiddled with a fresh cigarette before popping it in his mouth. She waited a beat, but the lighter never came out.

“We’re here anyway,” she said, pulling into her apartment complex and finding a spot easily. “You’ve officially completed your chaperone duty.” She hazarded a glance over at him. “Did you…” She cleared her throat. Be bold, Gracie.

He’d already turned his whole body in his seat, one hand braced on the dash, the other elbow digging in beside his headrest. He watched her carefully, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Did I?” He pretended to mull over the incomplete question. “The answer is most likely yes, I have.”

He leaned closer until she could feel the warmth of his breath swirling in the space between them. No longer imbued with the scent of burning tobacco, instead it had a sweetness to it, a freshness that reminded her of an unopened pack of cigarettes before they had been tainted by a flame.

“I have, I would have, and I certainly will again,” he continued, leaning forward even closer.

Grace bit her bottom lip and his eyes shot down to it immediately, seemingly transfixed by her tooth caught in the flushed redness of her mouth.

“Finish the sentence, detective,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on her, the cool grey seeming to emanate with a glow all its own.

“Did you want to come in?” she breathed, her own eyes darting down to his mouth in return.

His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her dark hair as he pulled her towards him.

“Always,” he said against her lips before capturing them with his.

Grace felt herself drowning in the moment, the same rushing vortex of emotion she felt every time they kissed. She’d thought it would get easier — that it had to — that it wouldn’t feel so all-consuming, so vital each time.

But as his lips slid over hers, tongue stroking and tasting and always drawing more and more from her, as she carded her fingers through the tempting obsidian waves of his hair and tugged him closer still, the desire to devour him too persistent to ignore—

She knew she was in deep. Too deep. She cared—too much. And there would be no getting out this time — at least not with all her vital parts attached.

* * *

Mason never thought he would like anything more than fucking.

It was intrinsic to his very being, the combustive need for release at all times — not just sexually, but entwined within his very existence. A need to be released from the hold of his senses, from the overpowering strain of existence—the sounds, the smells, the sights. All of it.

His desire to remove himself from the harshness of reality was a constant endeavour — and sex just happened to be the easiest and most pleasurable way to do it.

But he had to hand it to his little detective.

The sex was good, that was for sure. No doubt about it.

But the kissing—

In his almost one hundred years on this planet — at least the ones he could recall — he couldn’t remember ever being this affected by goddamn kissing of all things.

It had to be the little noises she made. Murmurs and moans against his mouth that he wasn’t even sure she was fully aware she was doing.

Or the way she pulled at him, drawing him closer each time so she could press her body against his, feel the length of her torso flush with the entirety of his.

She reminded him of a little burrowing creature, nuzzling at his jaw and neck, gripping the collar of his shirt, squirming to get under, over, inside him.

He squeezed her tightly — moderating the full extent of his strength, obviously, but still forcing her to emit a small breathless gasp at the feeling — and pulled her across the console towards him.

“Settle,” he murmured against her ear, dragging her fully into his lap. It was an effort — her legs kicked the dashboard, the radio, and the glove box before she could tuck them under herself as she buried a giggle into his shoulder.

“This car is not made for that sort of lateral movement,” she informed him, shifting to try and get comfortable.

“Oof,” he grunted as her knee hit his midsection. “God, you’re heavy.” It was patently untrue, but he knew he’d get some sass back for a comment like that and he found himself eagerly anticipating it.

She didn’t disappoint. Leaning back, she braced her hands on his shoulders, a lock of dark hair obscuring half of one of her hazel eyes. A street lamp illuminated her cheeky, exasperated grin as she tilted her head and regarded him.

“Is that so?” She wiggled around purposefully and he groaned in unspent desire as her perfectly round bottom found all the right places in his lap. “Would you care to file a complaint?”

“Christ, no,” he muttered, pulling her towards him once more. “Let’s get out of this aluminum death trap and go upstairs.”

Kicking his door open despite her protests to be careful, he tightened his hold on her and lifted them both out of the car, bracing his legs on the pavement as he stood.

He knew she was anticipating that he would release her, drop her to her feet and continue forwards to her apartment, likely with her trailing behind — his long strides swallowing up the pavement much easier than her shorter ones — but he found himself enjoying the steady, rapid beat of her heart against his shoulder, the comforting heft of her in his arms. He found himself hardpressed to let her go.

So he didn’t.

“Mason!”

She let out a gasp that dissolved into a laugh as he hefted her higher up and over his shoulder, unable to stop himself from giving her ass a playful slap as he carried her to her door. She kicked her legs ineffectually, thumped his back lightly with her palms as she squirmed. He only held her tighter against him.

“Stop moving, detective,” he ground out, the cigarette dropping out of his mouth as he turned his head to bite whatever part of her was closest to his cheek.

She yelped as his teeth made contact with the side of her upper thigh, hard enough that she’d be able to feel it through her jeans.

“Keep it up and it’ll be harder next time,” he promised, carrying her effortlessly up her steps. He paused at her front door. “Keys?”

“They’re in my pocket,” she grumbled and he made a big show of patting her bottom — both sides, thoroughly — before pulling them out of the pocket with the obvious protrusion and unlocking her door.

He let them in and kicked the door shut behind him, then took two strides into the small space and deposited her unceremoniously on the couch.

“Geez,” she spluttered, moving her hair out of her face. “What are my neighbours going to think?”

“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you, but with the noises you’ve been making lately, they’ve already drawn their own conclusions,” he drawled, crossing his arms and regarding her with a half smirk.

She just shook her head at him, her eyes glittering with mirth—and something else, something less easy to discern or define.

Before he could decipher it further, she threw him off with another question:

“What’s gotten into you tonight?”

Her tone could have been accusatory in nature, but instead there was only a mild sense of awe and a greater sense of amusement. Regardless, it still took him aback.

What, exactly, did she mean by that?

He admitted to himself that there had been a certain feeling of—levity, about him tonight. An air of calmness, of — dare he say — happiness, at the thought of walking out of that station and seeing her waiting for him. Of knowing that he got to go home with her. To hold her. To taste her. To fuck her.

And then to leave her.

“Into me?” He regarded her warily, before moderating his reaction and his tone. “I’m more concerned with getting into you tonight, detective.”

“I have a name,” she retorted, sitting up and smoothing her shirt out. “You haven’t used it once since we left the station.”

Yeah, she had a name. He knew she had a fucking name. Grace. How ironic.

“Call me Gracie,” she’d said to them once and he’d almost puked.

What in the everloving fuck was someone like him doing with someone called Grace? “Grace” meant kindness. Charity. Good will. “Grace” meant mercy.

Mason had never had, nor had he ever wanted, anything to do with mercy.

And this girl—woman in front of him tonight, was the embodiment of her name. Everything kind. Everything compassionate. Everything merciful.

He crossed his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t have to look at them.

“Are we doing introductions again?” he snapped and then immediately regretted it when he saw the stricken look on her face.

All of a sudden, everything felt too overwhelming, his senses in overdrive as he lost his grip on her presence, her heartbeat. Instead, he felt a tidal wave of unwelcome sensations: the smell of the toast she’d made that morning, some flowers she had in a vase that were on the cusp of dying, the light he’d turned on when they walked in shining right in his eyes, the conversation and heavy footsteps of the people in the apartment above them—

Compulsively, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips, ready to light it.

Her eyes followed him, watching him closely. He didn’t know if she realized that something had changed in his demeanour or not, but her gaze on him made him itchy, too, in a different way.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he bit down hard on the cigarette, crushing the filter.

“Should I leave?” he muttered, feeling his shoulders hunch. Knowing he looked and sounded petulant and hating himself for it, but being unable to moderate his emotions enough to lift up the necessary shields.

She continued to regard him silently, those all-knowing hazel eyes, wise beyond their years, stripping him down to his scars — external and internal.

He suppressed a shudder.

“I’m going to shower,” she said eventually, “and wash off the grime of the day.” She gestured around the apartment. “Feel free to stay and get comfortable.” Then, she swallowed hard and met his eyes briefly, before looking away and shrugging. “Or go. It’s up to you.” She walked towards the bathroom, tossing her jacket on a chair as she went. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

The bathroom door closed — and locked, decisively.

It would be so easy to just bounce. Two steps to the door and then minutes before he could make it back to the warehouse. To his own bed. To the rest of his unit. Where things were easy and no one would ask questions. He could even go to a bar. Find another warm and willing body to lie with. One with a sensible and meaningless name, like Michael or Jennifer, whose eyes would be as empty as their head and who would smell all wrong and who he’d leave behind without looking back even once, because he didn’t give a shit about them.

It would be so easy.

So fucking easy.

Mason heard the shower turn on.

He thought about how she’d feel when she came out of that shower — thought, too, about her skin flushed and damp, only a towel wrapped around her, just because he couldn’t help himself — knowing that she’d given him an opportunity to stay and he’d chosen to go.

He found himself caring, for the first time, about how his actions might affect another person’s feelings.

He looked at the front door. Then he looked at the couch.

And he sat down.

Thanks for reading! I have a smutty part two planned, let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in. 😅

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc mason #mason x detective #agent mason #twc fanfic #twc fanfiction #twc mason fanfic #specialist agent mason #agent m #played it fast and loose with the blog tags #if you really wish you weren’t tagged #plleeease let me know #❤️❤️#not choices

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