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melanirana · 5 months ago

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A Tune and a Drink

singer!reader x bartender!sun/ moon

Suprise! Have a little something. You are a singer in the 1930's and two specific bartenders have caught your eye, just like you have caught theirs.

I even have a musik recommendation for this one. Habits - Vintage 1930's cover and Levitating - 1920s style cover by PostmodernJukebox on YouTube. Check em' out they're really good.

with that said, enjoy

It’s the 1930’s, the era of glamour, fashion, parties but most of all, good music. Big cities are getting bigger, new opportunities arise on all sides, technology is advancing and you are right in the middle of it.

You are known throughout the whole city, not famous enough to be known across states but known enough that clubs and bars fight to have you sing on their stage. To have you bless their establishments with your voice and draw in the people, so these people make their bar The City Bar.

Whenever you agree to sing at their club they make it known immediately. Whether that is through the newspaper, telling their guests who tell it their acquaintances, or hanging papers around the city.

“downright heavenly”

“the voice of an angel”

“as powerful as it’s wonderful”

“rich with a beautiful smoky undertone” they call your voice. A bit of an exaggeration you think, you can agree on the smoky undertone but the rest. It must be because you hear your voice every day, when you wake from sleep, when you talk, when you warm up, when you practice when you sing.

But other people only hear you when you sing, it isn’t often it is a special occasion, it is desired it is sought after. To them it means so much and therefore it means so much to you. To sing for people, to lighten their day, to make them happy.

There is barely ever you turn down an offer to sing, it is simply a matter of when you have time again. More often than not you don’t come back to a bar for a month or two, too busy singing somewhere else, writing, or any other reason.

So why is it, that even with such a full schedule, you always find time to come back to sing at one certain high-profile bar named Celestias.

People wonder. Is it close to home. Do you have a deal with the bar. Does it mean something to you. Is it the celebrities that frequent this establishment. Or is it simply the wonderful view of the river that divides the city, that flows right by the building.

All good guesses, but utterly wrong.

The reason you keep returning is the bar, those how tend to it specifically. Two highly advanced Animatronics.

Metal polished like a brand new 540 K Special-Roadster, but not just a car. Highly advanced machinery capable of many things, but not an industrial machine. Eyes that see, hands that move, mouths that speak, but not human.

The robot pair is truly unique with their circular faces and wonderful colors. One bright as a golden Charleston-dress under a chandelier, eyes so wonderfully bleu they seem to be carved out of the ocean itself with a crown of metallic rays. The other shines like a blue evening gown under a low light, eyes as dangerous and enticing as a ruby with a long silk night cap that looks like it was sewn from the night sky.

Both with crescents that split their faces in the fashion of theater masks.

Both wear high-quality suits, the black of the suits contrast with their color, making their color shine even more and complementing their long limbs. A thick tie sits at the base of their slim metal necks, the end tucked neatly into their suits. The golden animatronic’s tie is a rich scarlet as well as his half gloves that always cover the animatronic’s hands. The blue animatronic’s tie and gloves contrast his counterparts wonderfully with their deep navy blue.

The robots are the bar's pride and joy, placed where everybody passes by, and the reason why they come here. The bar.

You noticed the animatronics the first time you visited, they were hard to miss as the owner proudly showed you them, even when it was from across the room. After that you had no time to pay the two bartenders any mind, quickly surrounded by people eager to meet you followed by your performance only to once again be surrounded by more people.

It was only your third visit that you truly saw them, and saw them you did. In the middle of your performance your gaze wandered to the bar, and what you saw was the golden robot cleaning a glass and looking at you.

You were no stranger to being looked at, your place was the stage after all, but the way the robot looked at you was different from the usual. Almost love-struck in that wonderful half-lidded lazy smile kind of way.

Your response to the animatronic’s gaze was a particular smile while singing a more romantic part of your song. This would have people hiding their faces as they reddened, have them melting on the table they are leaning on, or your favorite, bring a hand to their face as they hide their giddy giggles.

This however was not the response you got from the bartender.

Instead, you got a raised eyebrow and an amused smile, the robot placed the glass below the counter without braking eye contact. “Are you sure?” he said without making a sound. A challenge.

A challenge that you accepted.

For the rest of your performance during any particular romantic part of the song you made sure to let your gaze glide to the bar and exchange look with it’s bartender. His expression had changed ever so slightly from the first time you caught him looking. Still mostly the same but now with a hint of danger mixed in.

You could feel the tension between the bar and the stage rise with each exchanged look, neither of you breaking eye contact during the few seconds you had.

It was the most exciting performance you had in a long while, but it had to come to an end. The night just started and you needed to save your voice for your continued performance later in the night.

Immediately you were surrounded and distracted by people once you started your brake. Even though you couldn’t see the bartender you were pretty sure he saw you. Shortly after you began your brake a waiter came up to you, on a silver platter sat a single beautiful decorated crystal glass. The glass is short and wide like a whisky glass.

A rich orange liquid filled the short glass to a perfect half. When you asked the waiter who sent you the drink he simply said “It’s on the house.” You had ever the slightest hunch from whom it came. When you sipped from the glass the taste of honey sweet and yet smoky whisky filled your mouth, followed by a fruity aftertaste.

You couldn’t help the little that spread on your lips.

Later in the evening, your performance continued. But this time it was not the golden robot tending to the bar but his blue counterpart. A little childish part of you wanted to make the two bartenders jealous of each other, make them vie for your attention.

While resting the owner had told you more about the robots, how highly advanced they were, how they are unique and that there is no second pair like them, how they work together like a well-oiled machine. “Almost like twins,” he said.

‘Twins’

Maybe you can cause a little bit of a sibling rivalry then.

Nothing too bad, just a little bit of fun.

You didn’t even need to get the robot's attention, when you let your gaze wander to the bar he was already giving it all to you. You went through the whole routine again, you smile at the bartender during a romantic part of the song, he raises one eyebrow in a challenge and you accept.

And just like his counterpart, he did not break eye contact as the few seconds you had each song ticked by.

This went on for a few songs until his counterpart returned. When you looked back to the bar you saw the two of them talking, the blue one facing away from you and the other blocked by his counterpart. They looked neither irate or iterated, rather they looked natural at least from what you could tell during those few seconds before you returned your gaze to the guest.

Oh, too bad.

Maybe they figured out what you trying to do and decided to ignore you then. You couldn’t really blame them, even if you did. A fun challenge ended because you wanted some excitement in your life.

When next you returned your gaze to the bar you where meet not by one but two pairs of glowing eyes, both pairs half lidded accompanied by lazy smiles. The two robots have banded together.

Two robots band together against you in order to win this challenge, that is known only to you three. They might have been at a numbers advantage, but if they thought that you were going to let them win they were in the wrong. You were not going to back out just because it got more exciting.

And so this challenge went on for the rest of the evening and into the night, unbeknownst to the other guests in the large room.

By the time your performance ended it was well into the night, the sun was long gone and the moon took its place in the sky.

And just like always the moment you step off the stage you were surrounded by people eager to snag all your attention for themselves. You gave them your attention, but not all. Just like on stage, you glanced towards the bar but there were no eyes meeting you.

The bartenders had returned to their duty, now that your performance was over the guests wanted their drinks. Both animatronics hands move at impossible speed around the bar, you were surprised they didn’t knock anything over at the speed at which they were moving.

Your challengers are distracted by their duty so you allowed yourself the be distracted as well.

Not long after a different waiter came up to you, on the silver platter a tall wide decorated crystal glass. It almost looked like a whine glass but not quite, that moment you decided that you’d have to brush up on your glass etiquette. The liquid inside this glass was deep red, along the edge a ring of sugar.

Again as you asked who this is from the waiter said “It is on the house.”

You toke a sip and the sweet flavor of wine spread across your tongue along with a light taste of citrus from the ring around the glass.

That’s when you decided you have to come back and come back often.

And so you did.

Over the following months, you were at the bar at the very least once a month. Every time without fail, after you went on brake or finished your performance, a waiter would come up to you with a wonderfully decorated glass and the best-tasting drink inside of it.

Once, when your voice wasn’t the best to the point where it was hard to miss that you weren’t at your best, a waiter brought you a simple glass, inside was warm milk with honey when you asked who sent it the answer was “The bar.”

Months and months have past, and a good amount of change happened both in your career and in your relation ship with the bartenders.

Career-wise you have taken off. Now recognized and sought after outside the state you were busy going to new locations, meeting new people, meeting contemporaries, and singing your new songs.

You were outside the city more often and longer, but you made it a point to always drop by your bartenders.

Your bartenders, with whom you have not exchanged a single word since you first saw each other. The bartenders with whom your relationship has developed past a simple challenge.

The looks you exchange have not increased in length, which was nigh impossible while you stand on stage, but they have increased intensity.

Their looks are no longer love-struck but devouring. Every time they look at you they drink up your entire being, as if your existence and your existence alone keeps them alive. They now let their eyes wander across your form, you never see them doing it but you can feel their eyes on you.

As their eyes travel up and down your body, drinking it in. The way you move, the way your costume lays against your skin, the slightest of wrinkles in your clothing, the smallest of hairs it doesn’t matter. They absorb it all, like a flower after drought drinking up all the water it can get.

That night when you first noticed their eyes traveling you, you almost lost the challenge.

When your gaze followed the path it took so many times before, you saw them. Sitting behind the bar counter, leaning on it as they rested their faces in their hands. They had no shame as they showered you with their affection, attention, adoration and anything else they could give you through their eyes alone.

You immediately felt your face heat up and the urge to hide your face but you caught yourself before you looked away. Your cheeks remained a soft shade of pink trough the rest of the night and your singing had a bit more pep in your step.

Not long after you reviled a new song that made big waves and that caused you to become more known. A song about the sun and the moon, how the singer basks in the sun's warm light, how the singer would follow the moon's beautiful light anywhere and never feel alone, how the singer oh so loves the celestial bodies and their wonderful light, how they wouldn’t know how to live without them.

You let the song spread before you visited your favorite bar again, you wanted to play with them before returning the favor of a warm face. And play with them you did. You teased, called members of the audience the sun and the moon, said how the song is devoted to all and everyone. You played up how this song is to remind of the things one easily takes for granted and that whole spiel.

In the corner of your eye you could see how the robots seemed to deflate with each word. It hurt, and a lot more than you expected but you had to do it so it would hit just as hard as their affection.

When the part came where the singer talks about their love for the sun and moon you let your gaze wander before firmly landing on the bartenders, you had not looked to them before this part of the song. You didn’t care to hide your smug smile on your face as you look at your dear bartenders.

And it worked, like a charm.

They went rigid as they listened to the words coming out of your mouth, completely and fully directed at them.

The cheeks of the robots started to glow a bright orange as some mechanism in their face began to overheat, small puffs of steam expelled from their joints as they tried to cool themselves. And just like you, they almost lost the challenge.

Those few seconds felt like hours, hours their eyes were glued onto you before you released them. From the corner of your eye you could see them fanning their face, desperately trying to cool the mechanism in their face and failing.

For the rest of your performance, their cheeks remained a soft warm orange.

And now, here you are.

Sitting in front of your vanity in your brand new apartment right above your favorite bar. The owner had gifted it to you as a thanks for visiting the bar so often and coincidentally bringing in more guests and therefore income.

Said guests have started to slowly leave the bar below as it is about to close. You can hear the distant chatter of people through your open balcony door. After one more look at yourself in your vanity mirror, checking your makeup and hair to see if it is acceptable to leave your apartment in these conditions, you get up the close the balcony door.

The chatter has significantly lessened since the beginning of closing time. The few people outside must be the last stragglers.

The bar is now officially closed.

When you return to your vanity you catch yourself in the mirror again. Your simple dark blue dress pants reach slightly over your ankle. They blend well together with your black shoes, they are not your highest shoe when it comes to heel shoes but your favorite, they give you just a few inches more.

A light green poke dot poncho hangs from your shoulders, down to your thighs. It's loose and frilly, one of your favorites. It shows enough of your silhouette but not too much, even if that doesn’t really matter since you’ve worn very form-fitting costumes on stage before.

And yet again you contemplate your looks, you have been doing this for far too long. Changing outfits, makeup, hairstyles and changing the outfit again.

You never have trouble picking an outfit for performances before. So why is it that you are struggling now to pick an outfit, your not even preparing for a performance.

You just want to finally actually meet your bartenders.

You have been exchanging looks with them for months, basically flirted with each other back and forth. Hell, you have even confessed each other's love for one another. You wrote an entire song to do it.

So why are you so nerves.

You look at yourself in the mirror for many moments and as the doubts about your clothing start to make their way back in your head and gnawing at your confidence, you all but run out the door. If you change again you’ll never meet the two.

They are already head over heels for you and so are you.

You make your way down the stairs. The staircase is illuminated by small decorative lamps along the walls, their colored glass shades bath the space in a warm yellow. With a rhythmic tack tack tack of your heals you make your way down the stairs.

Once you’re at the bottom you stand in the back hallways of the bar. No simple guest is allowed back here and yet the hallways are equally as decorated as the main floor. You haven’t had time to familiarize yourself with the all corridors, but you know the way to the stage entrance.

The path is well light and as you step on to the backstage, slowly you pass the curtain that decorates the side of the stage, the light just above welcomes you as always. Your heart is beating like insane in your chest and you have to take a couple of deep breaths to calm before you fully step out onto the stage.

The view of this usably packed place, now completely empty is more than a bit strange but that is not what you focus on. You focus on the bar and its lack of attendants. The bar sits completely empty, there is not a single metallic shine of robotic limbs to be seen. To say your heart drops would be an understatement.

Did you miss them, they should be here, they are always behind the bar. Do they just leave once the bar is closed.

Where are they.

As fear begins to pluck at your heartstrings, what if you don’t meet them now, will you ever actually meet them. Are the three of you cursed to only look at each other.

Suddenly a muffled noise from somewhere even further behind the bar gets your attention. You walk to the very edge of the stage and lean over the edge to listen for that muffled noise again.

It sounds like a conversation. And just when you think that it might be them, you see a flash of blue pass by a doorway in the bar’s wall that you didn’t even notice was there. All these months you look at the bar and nerve noticed that it has a backroom, well you were more so looking at the bartenders. But that doesn’t matter now, they are still here, you didn’t miss them.

Immediately your mood brightens by the power of the sun. You hop of the stage as quietly as possible and tiptoe your way to the bar counter. Easier said than done thanks to your heals.

You are full of energy and nerves, your heart is doing leaps in your chest. You are as giddy as a kid whose dad is taking them to the toys shop to pick out a new toy.

In an attempt to stop the giggle building in your throat you bite your tongue. However that doesn’t stop the stupid smile on your face from spreading.

In on swift and quite motion you sit yourself on one of the bar chairs. You remain unnoticed. On top of the bar counter are two little bras bells, one with details painted in yellow and the other in blue. You have a hunch for what these bells are for.

Past the door, the conversation between the unknowing animatronics continues. You take one deep breath, then you ring both bells at once with a gentle tap of your finger. The sound the bells make is beautiful and light, but your trained ear can hear that one of the bells has a bit more reverb than the other.

The conversation comes to a stop and hear what you think is a synthetic sigh. Then out from the door steps one of your dear bartenders. His rays catch the light from above and give him the appearance of a glowing crown. His wonderful blue eyes don’t meet yours as he looks down to his hands where he works on putting his red half-glove back on his exposed hand.

His had is a wonderful shining chrome, the tips of his fingers are a brilliant yellow.

When he speaks his voice is butter-smooth and honey-sweet when he talks. “The bar is closed for tonight.” He sounds exhausted, like he had to have this conversation often. “I’ll have to ask you to leave-“

He finally looks up and meets your eyes, immediately freezing mid-step. He looks at you wide-eyed, surprised to see you of all people here.

“Oh, if you don’t want me here I can leave again.” You say as you turn on the chair as if to get up. “Ah- No. Stay.” The animatronic blurts out as he steps closer to the counter, one ungloved hand stretch out as if to stop you from leaving.

You lean back on the counter and smile at the sunbot, resting your head on the palm of your hand. “I’ll stay then.”

“Yes stay here.” The animatronic says quietly, sweetly, as he moves even closer. He drinks in your very being like he did so many times before, only closer now.

Your face warms up, about to catch fire. Already you can tell, that if he speaks even more sweetly to you, this will be a lethal encounter.

At least you know the names of your demise, after all the bar owner proudly told you their names during your very first performance.

From behind your Sun his counterpart emerges, his nightcap lazily resting on his shoulder, he is also not wearing his half gloves. Just like his counterpart, his hands are a shining chrome and his fingertips are a deep blue.

“Sun, what’s going on?”

You just about die. His voice is nothing short of heavenly. Deep and lush, simply beautiful. You can feel the vibration of his voice down your spine.

The lunar bot meets your eyes and visibly brightens. “Oh~.” You are deceased. “Finally decided to visit us~.” The animatronic says with a grin, showing his sharp teeth. He steps around his counterpart and stands next to him.

“Oh, you know. I had nothing else to do.” You lean forward, closer to them and fold your fingers together before resting your head on them. Both robots lean forward as well, closing the distance between you even more.

“Plus, I thought things were getting a bit boring, so I thought we make it a bit more exiting.” The smile that spreads across your face is smug.

Both bots raise their eyebrows, just like they did the first time. “More exciting? And how might we do that.” The golden bot asks.

Without saying a word you free your hand and reach for the sun bots face. His gaze follows your hand. Gently and slowly you reach under the bots chin and lift it, from where he was looking down at your hand, to look at you.

“Oh, nothing too big.” You say sweetly.

His internal workings kick into overdrive, the wiring inside his chest becomes louder, puffs of steam seep through his suit and the metal of his cheeks becomes a hot orange. The rays around his face fold back against his head and he stammers something before he wraps his hand around yours and removes it from his face as it is getting to hot.

However, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

Next to him, Moon lets out a dark chuckle and it’s your turn to melt.

“Playing the jealousy game again?” The bot accuses you amused. “It was worth a try. Don’t you think?” You retort playfully.

He chuckles again. His gaze lands on Sun who has slightly recovered from your flirt, now he examines your hand with a loving fascination. You follow Moon's gaze and watch Sun as he gently turns over your hand.

It is only then that you realize how much bigger Sun's hand is compared to yours, his hand completely engulfs your with ease. A few seconds later you realize how much bigger they are in general. Sitting at a bar with a human bartender, you see eye to eye but with these two you have to crane your neck to look them in the eye, even if they are already hunched over.

So lost in your realization, you barely notice the hand that is coming towards your face. Blue fingertips gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before tracing your skin and cupping your face.

You can't help but lean into the cool chrome hand and let out a small sigh. You relax as a cool thump softly draws circles on your cheek and yellow-tipped fingers work their way up your arm.

And there you remain for longer, with your dear bartenders, no longer confined to look at you, but now able to touch you just as gently as they looked at you.

#A tune and a drink #fnaf au #fnaf sun and moon #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #sun x reader #moon x reader #daycare attendant fnaf #bartender!Sun #bartender!Moon #singer!yn #fnaf security breach #fanfic

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imaginesmai · 1 year ago

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Little secrets they have - Batboys headcanon

Trying something new here! Since I'm not really motivated to write for TV show characters, I've tried writing about book ones. What better way to start than with our batboys from Sarah J Mass, Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel.

From now on, I take requests about them and about any of the SJM's characters (from throne of glass, crescent city and acotar). Let me know if you like it, and if you want more.

Plot: the batboys keep a small secret during your relationship, and you find about it.

Rhysand

It would take you a while to figure it out, because boy, does he hide it well.

But eventually, you two would be comfortable enough in your relationship for small secrets to come out.

You discover it during a small retreat to the cabin. Everyone has been really stressed in Velaris because of the upcoming Starfall, so you have decided to take a break in the cabin.

Usually, you go to be way earlier than Rhys, because he stays up working.

Or so he says.

Because in the cabin, there’s no way he can hide the extra bag he has bought with him that weights almost like your own.

You are already in bed, the fire is on and you’ve just finished one of the best sex you have ever have.

“Give me a second, darling. I need to do something”

Tired and happy as you are, you don’t give it a second thought until you find yourself falling asleep and he hasn’t come back.

So you get up, open the bathroom and find out about Rhysand’s little secret.

“I promise that I can explain. It’s not what it looks like”

“Is that mud?”

“It’s actually a clay mask”

The most powerful High Lord in Prythian is surrounded by skin-care products, his face soaked in a blue mask and his hair gathered up in a froggy-style bandana.

There are so many products around that you can’t see the sink or the toilet sink, and the bag on the floor shows you another bunch of them.

Suddenly, the softness of his face and the absence of any type of imperfection make sense. As it does the minutes you lay awake waiting for him when he tells you that he needs to finish something.

You stare at each other for a while, giving you enough time to consider turning around and going to sleep or actually talking about it.

Rhys beat you to it.

“It’s Mor’s fault. She told me I had a wrinkle, and then she bought a cream. And then another”

There weren’t just creams anymore. There were almost fifty small bottles of different colors, shapes and sizes.

Something started beeping and, without breaking eye-contact, Rhys bent over the sink and made enough space to start removing the clay mask with water.

After a few minutes, you discovered there was something absolutely amazing about watching your mate put on different products.

Rhysand noticed that you weren’t leaving and started talking about what he was using and what it was good for. He even let you try some of them in the back of your hand.

You both went to sleep without talking about it and next night he left the bathroom door open for you to join him.

Since that moment, it was kind of a tradition to do your skincare together. A cozy, domestic tradition that you repeated back home. And probably for the rest of your lives.

Cassian

You might have been too blind in your love to notice how loud he snores and the clothes he leaves hanging everywhere.

But when Cassian starts sneaking during the weekends with no explanation, you notice.

It starts as casual “hanging out with the boys, love” and “going for a run, gotta keep the abs firm”.

The boys don’t know what you’re talking about when you ask them about it and the sneakers he uses for running stay clean during the weekend.

You aren’t afraid of him cheating on you because the rest of the days he worships everything you do and kisses the floor you step in. Almost.

When Saturday comes around, though, he leaves for a few hours and comes back as if nothing has happened.

There are a few hypotheses you work with: that he’s stealing Rhy’s wine or Nyx’s sweets, that he’s secretly practicing for karaoke nights at Rita, or that he’s building and hiding snowballs for the annual fight.

None of them are proved right when you decide to walk through Velaris while he’s missing.

You’re walking near the Sidra when you hear a familiar, loud laugh. Then, you look up.

Through the window, you find Cassian where you least expected: surrounded by women, kneeling at their feet and letting them run their fingers through his hair.

The thing is, they aren’t the type of hands you expected.

They were wrinkled, and fragile, and their owners were just as.

“I told you! Renaldo was alive! Our man isn’t that easy to kill”

You look up to the name of the building.

Velaris Elderly Home

In a haze, you enter the place and continue watching Cassian.

Your mate is almost seven foot tall, his shoulders as wide as the TV on the room. His arms strong as steel and thick as trees branch.

And that giant warrior, that snaps enemies in a half and carries swords as heavy as you, is sitting on the ground, watching a novella while older women braid his hair.

Eventually, after realizing Cassian is not only behaving like one of them, he is one of them, he notices you.

His smile falls and the room seems to go colder.

Loss at words, you don’t know what to say until the women around him see you.

“Oh, that must be Y/N! You’re just as pretty as he says! Look at her, does our Cassian treat you well, honey? You better take care of that beautiful girl!”

“Are you hungry, darling? Do you want cookies? Get your girl a seat, lover boy!”

“Finally! We’ve been begging Cassian to bring you for a decade!”

Before you could register, two women grabbed both of your arms and dragged you inside. In a few minutes, you were sitting in a chair, TV long forgotten, surrounded by questions about Cassian.

You looked at him and noticed that he was nervous. About not telling you, about you finding out, about them asking you if he satisfied you in bed. Too stunned to comfort him, you smiled softly.

“Well, he does have a large wingspan”

Turns out that was the right answer, and suddenly you were part of the group. For almost an hour, you answered their questions and heard about this new part of Cassian.

Your mate, who spends his Saturday’s afternoons in the elderly home making them laugh. Who lets these women braid his hair, knit him scarfs and feed him expired cookies.

That night, while you walk home, you do it in silence, closer to Cassian than what you usually walk.

You arrive home in a comfortable silence until he speaks.

“Large wingspan, hm? I guess I am a great lover”

“Yeah, and a great gossiper. Bet you’ve been taking cues from Renaldo”

Cassian laughs and spends the night proving you how good he, not Renaldo, is in bed.

Azriel

As your mate, Azriel is the most honest and open person you have ever met.

You didn’t expect the Shadowsinger to be so close and frank with you, but as the years passed and your bond solidified, you discovered he was.

There is no miscommunication, no fights or disappointment. You talk it out, you share your emotions and take your time to fix things.

So, when almost fifty years after you discover he’s your mate, he doesn’t answer your question right away, you know he’s lying.

Lying to you, about something, and you couldn’t have imagined how sad that would make you feel.

He had missed dinner last night, and this morning, you had asked him before he left for work about it. Without looking at you, he had offered a quick apology and had told you that he was with Rhysand.

Who you had called last night to ask where Azriel was, and hadn’t known about it.

You spend the whole day thinking about it. And the more you think, the more dates you discovered.

That time he was late for Starfall. When he skipped Nyx’s birthday party. After your birthday, when he disappeared for a day.

Of course, being the spymaster he was, he had been able to hide it just fine. And it hadn’t been until this morning that you have caught up with it.

When he comes back, he finds you sitting in the couch with tears in your eyes.

You don’t want to think about it, but your mind keeps coming up with the possibility of cheating. Because, what else could be keep from you?

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

It’s his voice, full of concern and love, that has you breaking down.

Azriel holds you while you cry, constantly stroking your hair and side. You finally blurt it out between sobs, shaking so hard he can hardly understand you.

“What – cheating? Dove, why would I cheat on you? I love you more than my own life. I would rather –“

“You lied, Az! I – Last night I talked to Rhys. You… you lied”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you actually consider that he cheated. That he’s about to leave you for some other girl. Before you can answer, he beats you to it.

“I… was at Rhys house. Not with Rhys, though. I’m sorry I lied to you”

“He told me –“

“He didn’t know I was there, because I was with Feyre”

Feyre, the new High Lady that you loved with all your heart and that has turned your lives upside down for the best. That has given you all a night court heir and almost lost her life in the process.

That is Rhysand’s mate and life, both of them in love just like you and Azriel.

Before you could develop further in your thoughts, he continues.

“There was a new episode of Say yes to the dress. And… I wanted to have dinner with you, I really did, but Analise is choosing the drees her sister wants. And her family is there, too. It’s a beautiful dress, I just wanted… I’m sorry, dove. I shouldn’t have lied to you”

“You’re – you left me – you’re watching say yes to the dress?”

Azriel likes to dress nice, and every now and then would tell you to buy one of the latest items of certain collection. You know he likes clothing, that unlike Cassian who can wear the same trousers for a week, Azriel knows the difference between dark blue and marine blue.

You raise your head from his chest and listen to him explain that Feyre had showed him the show a few years ago, and that since then, it has become kind of an obsession. That he, Feyre, Mor and sometimes Amren meet to watch it.

That he hasn’t told you because once you watched it together and you said it was a waste of time.

Needless to say, that from that moment, you all watch the show together. You find a new side of Azriel that likes to point out every detail of the dresses, that know the story of each couple and that talks about it for days with no end.

It is also fair to say that you dust out your weeding dress and that you spend a fun night together, making up for mean comments and harmless lies.

517 notes · View notes

theother-victoria · 10 months ago

Text

graduation trip

PREVIOUSLY | NEXT

SYNOPSIS: the stars in space must grow weary of their long orbits after a while. they too deserve to rest. a shooting star has regained its tail, ready to soar across the galaxy once more.

TAGS: fluff, minor spoilers of Kaveh’s backstory, the sillies getting a well-deserved break, 4.6k wc

NOTES: I was watching honkai impact’s “graduation trip” animation and sobbing the whole time as I wrote this their cover of canon in d just hits differently

Sitting upon the outskirts of Sumeru City is a small rented house where the breeze is warm and the sunlight is golden. A small garden grows off to the side and receives plenty of love, apparent from the abundance of vegetables and the fragrant blossoms. Traces of Dendro elemental energy used to help the plants grow are visible with elemental sight. Small trinkets are scattered here and there, bearing traces of their owners' personalities. A wind chime hanging off the roof awning that is styled after the night sky. Comets and crescent moons are strung together, tinkling pleasantly in the mid-afternoon breeze. A collection of Aranara statues sit by the front porch, clearly carved from different people from the varying differences in skill. The smell of freshly-brewed coffee and Padisarah Pudding is always wafting out the open windows and the neighbors are used to the house’s frequent yet lighthearted arguing.

If one were to peer through the large living room window with the curtains pulled open, they would see an impressive collection of books in the living room. The term “home library” did the collection a disservice; to call it an actual library would be more fitting. Two diplomas are hung side by side above the bookshelves. Cat toys are scattered across the floor and atop furniture and if they’re lucky, they can see the household’s gray cat napping in a sunbeam.

If they were to peer through the window now, they would also see two recent Akademiya graduates in the kitchen. One was adding ice cubes to their drink, while the other sat at the kitchen table reading a book.

“(Name), have you ever thought about taking a graduation trip?”

You look up mid-sip from your iced peach juice. Alhaitham seems calm and composed but having known him for four years and counting, you spot the subtle signs of his nervousness. You hear his foot lightly tapping against the floor and the way his fingers drum against his book cover. He avoids making eye contact and is oddly fixated on the fruit bowl.

You look back out the window and think for a bit. You can’t say you’ve ever considered it these past four years. Money was tight as an Akademiya student and you were too preoccupied with your studies among… other things.

But now that you’ve graduated in relatively decent academic standing with a fair amount of money earned, you suppose you could give the notion some thought.

Alhaitham seems to take your silence as hesitation and he begins to (very subtly) panic.

“I still have enough Mora, so don’t worry about paying for anything.”

“Haitham-”

“And the location is completely up to you. I’m fine with whatever nation you choose.”

“I-”

“Of course, you can say no if you don’t want to. It’s perfectly understandable. I’m also content with spending our summer together at-”

“Haitham.”

The finality in your voice makes him stop rambling. You give him a small smile of reassurance and interlock your fingers with his across the table. It seems to calm him down and you can see the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

“Of course I want to go. I just haven’t had the time or energy to consider it these past four years.”

“Well, where to then?”

“You’re the one paying for the trip. It’s only fair that I let you decide.”

“Good point,” he admits. His eyes narrow in your direction and you squirm uncomfortably under his pointed gaze. You can hear him mumbling to himself as he goes through his list of ideas.

(Is this what Tighnari’s plant samples felt like underneath the magnifying glass and his scrutinizing eye?)

“Liyue?... No, you went there already. Inazuma sounds good, but their political state has been rocky lately… Mondstadt, then? No, there’s a national holiday coming up so it’s going to be busy and overcrowded…”

He pauses.

“How does Fontaine sound?”

“Fontaine?” you repeat.

“It’s nearby, so travel fees won’t be outrageous, and neither of us have been there before. The political state is stable and there’s no national holidays or anything similar coming up, meaning it won’t be as crowded as say, Mondstadt,” he reasons. “But if you’re not interested, then that’s fine-”

“Haitham, do you remember what I said earlier? I’d love to go anywhere with you. A trip to Fontaine sounds lovely.”

That seems to ease the last of his worries. His shoulders relax and he leans back into his chair. There’s a faint grin that only you have the privilege of seeing as he pulls out his notebook and begins writing down plans.

“I’ll start making reservations now. It shouldn’t take them more than a few days. When do you want to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”

“How does the end of this week sound then?”

It’s a perfect day for traveling. The sky is clear and the air is warm but not overbearingly so. The sea should be calm as well. Thamina has been handed to a friend for pet sitting. Your bags are stacked on the front porch and you’re fiddling with the keys when Alhaitham taps you on the shoulder.

“Before we go, I have a present for you.”

You raise your eyebrows at that. Alhaitham wasn’t much of a gift giver (at least overtly).

He presents a simply-wrapped box. Peeling off the paper, you open the box to see a Kamera sitting inside it, and a rather fancy model at that.

“Everyone contributed to this,” he explains as you fiddle with the expensive gadget, examining it from all angles like a curious child. “I know you’ve been eyeing the empty position of reporter at the newspaper company in town and I thought a Kamera would be a practical gift, so I began saving up for one.”

He sighs. “Word got out that I was looking for a Kamera. Everyone put two and two together and they realized it was going to be for you and they began sending me money. Even Lisa pitched in.”

“Lisa?” you repeat. “She’s all the way in Mondstadt right now!”

He lightly chuckles. “Imagine my surprise when I opened the mailbox to find a hefty pouch of Mora one day with a letter signed by her in there. She still hasn’t dropped the habit of calling you ‘cutie’, by the way.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less than that from her.”

“But with everyone’s funds combined, I was able to get a nicer model than the one I was originally going to get. Give it a go and tell me what you think of it.”

You press the shutter. It goes off with a loud click, startling you. A few moments later, it spits out a strip of film from the opening beneath the lens. You absentmindedly put it aside in a shaded spot for now.

“It’s quite nice. And your intuition proved to be right once more. But if you got me something this expensive, surely there has to be another reason than it being a practical gift for my future job?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? I think that’s the fastest you’ve seen through me to date.”

“You’re not exactly being subtle here.”

He sighs at your deadpan expression. “It’s nothing shameful or secretive. I just want you to be the one to document the details of our trip.”

“Entrusting such an important task to me?”

“There’s no one better suited for the job.”

Right as you’re about to leave, you remember the photo you had accidentally taken earlier. Out of curiosity, you retrieve it to see what the Kamera had captured.

The film had developed nicely, albeit slightly blurry. Probably because you had moved out of shock when the shutter went off. It turns out you’d accidentally taken a photo of Alhaitham, but it isn’t half-bad. He’s relaxed in the photo and his eyes lack the usual piercing and cold look most people see him with.

It’s a nice shot. Perhaps you’ll keep it for yourself.

“Welcome to the Clementine Line aquabus! This boat tour will take you to the magnificent court of Fontaine, the most important city in our nation!”

The sweet creature before you, who you quickly learned was a Melusine and was named Aeval, introduces herself and begins pointing out the sights around you- much like how a tour guide would. The aquabus is quite crowded with visitors but you sit shoulder-to-shoulder comfortably against Alhaitham.

Many students and children are here on summer vacation with their families and you feel a pang of jealousy run through you, which quickly morphs to tension when you notice some familiar faces from these past four years. Alhaitham immediately picks up the sudden change in your mood, as he always has. Funny how people think of him as emotionally dense when he’s one of the most emotionally intelligent people you’ve ever met.

“Who are they?” he whispers into your ear, low enough so that only you can hear it.

“No one of any importance,” you whisper back. “Just as long as they don’t ruin our trip.”

After some time, their gaze begins to wander when they land on you. You hear the whispers quietly explode around you and the eyes that burn into your body. The sweet Melusine tour guide is as perceptive as she is sweet, for she makes eye contact with you, giving you something else to focus on other than them.

From over your shoulder, Alhaitham silences them with a sharp glare.

(“Did something happen?” you ask him when you no longer feel their gazes boring into you. You cast a glance at them out of the corner of your eye and notice how they no longer look in your direction.

“... Let me rephrase that. Did you do something?”

He hums. “I’m unaware of what you might be implying.”

“Stop feigning ignorance,” you hiss.

“I am doing no such thing.”

There’s no such thing as winning with him around.)

The aquabus reaches its destination, and all your troubles are forgotten as you step off. The air is warm and salty from the sea and the buildings are so tall it makes your neck hurt. Mechanical beings walk the street and nobody pays them any mind except you. (You know your Kshahrewar colleagues would love to get their hands on one.)

“Woah! Are you seeing all of this, Haitham? It’s so different from Sumeru and Liyue!”

Instantly, Alhaitham knew he made the right decision bringing you here and part of a burden is lifted off his shoulders.

There are many things to do and see in Fontaine. You start off by exploring the city. One of the first things you do is visit a Kamera shop to get a better understanding of how your shiny new gift worked. You ended up leaving with some newfound knowledge, some gadgets, and a significantly lighter wallet.

Fontaine has plenty of boulangeries and patisseries, each one better than the last. Your days aren’t complete without sampling the goods of several stores and you quickly see why Fontaine’s desserts are world-renowned.

“They’re so buttery and creamy,” you remark the first time you try one. “I can’t help but feel full after just a few bites…”

Fontaine is renowned for its stunning underwater landscapes that photos can’t do justice to. It had been on your bucket list of things to see the moment you began planning for this trip, but what nobody told you was that only Vision holders could breathe underwater. Regular people couldn’t do that unless they learned the ins and outs of using a diving suit, something both costly and time-consuming- two things you lacked.

That’s how you found yourself pouting at the water’s edge, disappointment etched into the lines of your face.

“Let’s just go back now. There’s still other things we can do.”

Alhaitham looks at you with mild surprise. “I thought this was one of the things you wanted to do most in Fontaine?”

“It was and still is, but I don’t have a Vision, so…”

He looks back at the water, then at you beginning to get up, and finally at the reluctance in your eyes.

“Stay here,” he suddenly says. “I’ll go and make it worth your while.”

“What-”

“It won’t be long. Don’t go running off now.”

And without any hesitation, he dives straight into the waters, leaving you reeling as you watch his figure slowly disappear as he descends.

With nothing else to do, you absentmindedly sketch the surroundings until some time passes and you hear a small splash. You watch as Alhaitham emerges from the waters, water plastered to his forehead like your cat Thamina’s fur after a bath, but more importantly, you notice what he’s carrying. You’ve seen sketches of them in some of the books you’ve read in Fontaine so far- Romaritime Flowers, Lumitoiles, Beryl Conches… he must’ve dove into some deep waters to get some of these local specialties.

“For you,” he says.

“Really?”

He nods. “I brought you part of the sea that you wanted to explore so much.”

You let the weight of his actions sink in.

“You… did all of that? Just for me?”

“I’d swim to the bottom of Fontaine’s deepest trenches as many times as you want.”

“Willingly, at that?”

“Gladly, at that.”

Later that night, you stay up into the early morning preserving what he brought you. Your arms are tired from carrying heavy books for pressing the flowers, and the room reeks of alcohol and seafood so much that you have to open the windows while you’re drying out the Lumitoiles lest you pass out from the smell. It reminds you of the late-nighters you’d pull back in your Akademiya days, except it's for something you enjoy this time.

You finish when the sun’s early morning rays begin to peek beyond the horizon. You’ve finally passed out in bed, barely awake, but still sleepily talking to yourself with Alhaitham lying across from you.

“Still stinks,” you mumble as your eyelids begin to close.

Alhaitham’s condition is as equally bad as yours, sleep-deprived and exhausted. He chuckles at your remark.

“Would you still want to do this again?”

“Maybe in a better-ventilated area,” you grumble.

He loudly yawns.

“Just say the word and… I’ll bring you anything you desire…”

You can’t keep your eyes open for much longer. When you’re in this state, your mind doesn’t have a filter and you’re less inhibited. Alhaitham has a feeling of what you’ll say next. Something outlandish and unattainable.

“Even the moon and stars?”

“Only the most luminous of shooting stars for you,” he replies without hesitation.

Why a shooting star, of all celestial bodies…you groggily wonder.

“What if it burns out and loses its tail? It’s just an ordinary rock then.”

“It’s still the same star, is it not? And shooting stars can return and regain their tail.”

Throughout all of it, you take photos. So many photos. You brought along an album for the trip and it contains photos of just about everything under the sun. The mountains in the background on your way to Fontaine. Photos of the desserts and everything you ate every day. The grandeur of the opera house when you were there to watch a play. Your pressed flowers are next to the photos of the sea. Your Lumitoiles and Beryl Conches sit in a bag, waiting to be taken home.

Beneath each photo, Alhaitham has written little notes. Most of them are about the foods you liked and disliked for his reference.

(Name) didn’t like the Fontaine Aspic and neither did I. Who thought this was a good idea…? I’d be hard-pressed to find someone who enjoyed it.

The Duck Confit was nice, but (Name) could only manage a few bites before they complained it was too oily. That seems to be a recurring theme…

(Name) has liked all the desserts we’ve tried so far. How hard would it be to recreate them at home?

But there’s other notes too.

A pressed Rainbow Rose sits between a photo of you both in front of the Fountain of Lucine where plenty of them were blooming and a photo of the Opera Epiclese in the evening. Strange, you don’t remember pressing this flower and placing it in this specific spot.

All that was written beneath it was “for (Name)”.

A few days into your trip and you’re examining a hat display while Alhaitham checks out a book display across the street when you hear a familiar voice drifting above the crowd.

“... The audacity of that client! Can you believe he backed out of the deal last minute? At least he paid me upfront…”

Your head jolts up. You look back at Alhaitham, who has done the same thing, and look toward the source of the sound in sync.

Surely it can’t be…?

A few moments later and your suspicions are confirmed. Kaveh emerges from the crowd and… a woman who looks startlingly similar standing next to him?

“Huh? Is that… his mom?”

“He did tell me one night that his mom remarried and moved to Fontaine sometime after he enrolled in the Akademiya,” notes Alhaitham, who has moved to stand next to you. Kaveh turns and makes eye contact with you. It takes him a few seconds to process the sight before he gasps loudly, audible even amongst the crowd, and then storms over to you.

“You!” he exclaims while jabbing an accusing finger at Alhaitham’s chest. “What are you doing here? Nice to see you again, (Name).”

“Graduation trip,” explains Alhaitham. “We-”

He’s interrupted by Kaveh’s mom rushing over.

“You must be Alhaitham! And you must be (Name)! I’ve heard so much about you from Kaveh! Are you both busy right now, by any chance?”

“Not… particularly?”

And that’s how you find yourself out in the countryside spending the evening with Kaveh and his family. Faranak had shooed you out of the house and encouraged you to reconnect with each other until she called you back for dinner. In that time, you had found that Kaveh had made quite the name for himself within the architecture world (no surprise there) and was working on a commission for a very wealthy man before he suddenly backed out of the deal. At least he still got a hefty upfront deposit to keep. In the meantime as he decided which commission to take out of the many that were flooding in, he was reconnecting with his direct and extended family, who he hadn’t seen in years.

“And how about you two?” he asks. “What are you both up to now?”

“Haitham is working at the library as of now, but I’ve been hearing rumors of how he might get promoted to the position of Scribe soon.”

“You probably don’t even want the position anyway,” scoffs Kaveh. “Knowing you and all.”

“Actually, I do.”

You both turn to look at him.

“Better pay, better schedule, more flexibility, and a decreased workload, to name a few,” he lists.

“... Wouldn’t being a librarian entail less work than the Scribe? And why’d you mention pay? I know how much you want a cushy life, but you seem pretty comfortable now?” Kaveh asks.

“It’s decent, but I know we could have more.”

“We?” repeats Kaveh. He slowly connects the dots as he looks at you and Alhaitham. “Wait, don’t tell me you two are-”

“We’re living together. That’s it.”

Kaveh blinks. He looks a little… disappointed?

“Oh… that’s all? No-”

Alhaitham cuts him off with a glare that could kill.

“Not. Another. Word,” he hisses. Then, in a whisper that only Kaveh can hear:

“Not yet, at least.”

You look at the two of them, unaware. Alhaitham clears his throat and sends one last glare at Kaveh before continuing.

“As I was saying, (Name) and I are renting a house together. However, now is a good time to become a homeowner. Mortgage rates are low, housing stock is high. It’ll be doable for me with some time and savings.”

“Geez, stop rubbing your success in our faces,” grumbles Kaveh. “You’ve already got a promotion lined up and you’ll potentially be the first homeowner in our circle. Give me a break…”

While the two grumble and bicker the same way they did back in their Akademiya days, you hang behind, fiddling with a wildflower you had picked earlier.

While I’m glad he’s getting such a head start in life… where does that leave me then?

On the walk back, neither of you notice how Alhaitham lingers behind. Neither of you notice how Alhaitham is also doing the math for how much he has to save up each month to get a house built.

Specifically, one that’s big enough for at least two people.

The last day of your trip has arrived. You’re outside the aquabus station waiting for it to return and take you back to Romaritime Harbor when you notice you still have some film left.

“Here, Haitham, let’s pose for a photo. Might as well use up this remaining film.”

There’s also one last thing you’ve been meaning to do. His comments back at Faranak’s house made you feel dejected, but you tell yourself that you only live once. Might as well so you have no regrets.

Leaving the aquabus station temporarily, you set up your Kamera in front of the large rotating fountain in front. You fiddle with the tripod’s height until you made sure that you were both in frame.

With everything all ready, you hurry back to where Alhaitham is standing. His free arm lazily drapes over your shoulder, his hand resting just above your heart.

Your heart pounds in anticipation. You wonder if he can feel it.

The light flashes red. One.

You quickly glance at him. He doesn’t suspect a thing. His shirt collar is right within grabbing range too.

Two.

It’s now or never.

Three.

You press your lips to his cheek the moment the shutter goes off with a loud click. He jolts upon contact and you instinctively tighten your grip on him. You can feel the smoothness of his cheek and the faint scent of his shaving cream from this morning. You feel the rush of heat to his face and it makes you smile a bit.

Despite his intimidating stature, he still acts like a little boy experiencing romantic love for the first time.

(Probably because it is.)

The Kamera spits out a piece of film and you pray that the photo turned out alright. Your eyes are squeezed shut while his are blown wide in an uncharacteristic display of shock. It’s the perfect photo for a long-anticipated first kiss.

Strangely, Alhaitham doesn’t say a word the entire time and you think you’ve pissed him off, until you’re on the boat back to Sumeru.

“That wasn’t fair of you.”

“... What?”

You shift a bit and see he’s scowling, but in a childish way.

“I wanted to be the first to confess.”

It’s quite the sight. The serious and stoic Alhaitham, pouting like a child. Had you not used up the last of the film for your first kiss, you would have immediately snapped a photo.

You think a bit about what to say and quickly realize something.

“... You do realize I never confessed back there, right?”

“You kissed me,” he plainly states. “That counts as a confession in itself.”

You huff and roll your eyes. “But I never said…”

“Said what?”

“You know… those three words?”

You gesture at the space before you, hoping he gets your message.

“I’m unaware of what you’re trying to imply.”

You stare at him in disbelief. Is this man for real?

Then you notice the teasing glint in his green eyes and it makes you want to tear your hair out.

“You…! Fine. Ok. Shut up. Insufferable asshole. Why did I fall in love with you? You know exactly what I’m referring to. Since you’re all pouty about it, why don’t you say it then?”

He doesn’t take your jab at him seriously, instead choosing to grasp both your hands in his.

“Najmati-”

The endearment makes your heart leap into your throat. My star. He had always called you (Name) or some other nickname, but now…

You reach to cover your burning face but Alhaitham tightens his grip on your wrists.

“Don’t look away now. Are those two stars that hold boundless love and outshine the sun and moon, or are they your eyes?”

Since when was he so good with his words? Stupid Alhaitham and his stupidly smart self and his Haravatat degree making you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“Boundless love for one person only. Care to guess who?”

He feigns cluelessness. “Would I happen to be that lucky recipient?”

The corners of your eyes crinkle from a smile that actually meets them. The small laugh that comes out of you reminds him of the night sky wind chime hanging off the awning that he got because it reminded him of you.

“This confession is long overdue. You really do remind me of a shooting star; something that makes everyone stop and stare in awe. I, just like everyone else, was just as taken with you. Always radiant, always glowing, always full of energy and moving onto what lay ahead. Rather than a star, you must’ve been the sun with all the energy you had and the life you gave to everything you touched.”

“But, Haitham, I burnt myself out. Have you read what Rtawahist scholars predict will happen when the sun inevitably runs out of fuel and collapses in on itself?”

“Everything will be destroyed. And everything was destroyed two years ago. But you’re still here, aren’t you? And so am I.”

“The only one to have survived the blast and fallout with me,” you whisper, interlocking your fingers with his. Your eyes slowly trail up to his gaze, where you see something sweet swirling around in his eyes. “And you’re still here two years later when everything has finally settled down.”

“There’s no such thing as perfection in this world,” he continues. “So I sometimes think that you came here from another world because you are the closest thing to perfection I’ve ever touched.”

“But, Haitham, I have my very obvious flaws. You’ve seen them on full display and you’ve bluntly pointed them out to me several times.”

“It is because you are multifaceted and flawed that makes you more than just a star, (Name). And stars aren’t perfect or flawless either. They’re made of rock, dust, ice, and without its hallmark tail, it looks rather plain. But, my dear sun, your strengths and shortcomings make you radiant even if you’ve lost the tail that people chased after you to see.”

“If I continued to run, would you still chase me?”

“Do you still have a reason to run?

You pause and think. Your time in Fontaine made you feel warm inside. It gave you a glimpse of what life could be like now. Now that you’ve experienced it you don’t ever want to go back to what it was like before, in your familiar yet cold childhood home, its walls devoid of love and color.

That house is not home anymore. It’s now the rented home you share with Alhaitham, where the windows don’t fully close sometimes and the floorboards creak obnoxiously.

And you decide that you no longer have a reason to continue running across the night sky for others to see.

“My shooting star, I’ve loved you ever since our Akademiya days. Will you be mine, as I am already yours?”

#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x gender neutral reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #victoria.writes

194 notes · View notes

shadowdaddies · 10 months ago

Note

So being sick with covid and being on my period at the same time is not fun so I was wondering if you haven't already done it a sick reader head cannon? With whatever Sarah J. Mass male you want or all of them whatever you want.

ah I'm so sorry you're sick love! covid definitely seems to be making the rounds right now, stay safe and I hope you feel better soon💜

SJM Males When You're Sick Headcanons

ACOTAR

Azriel

⁃ Azriel knows you’re sick before you do

⁃ His shadows wake him up in the night when they hear your sniffled breathing, notice your fever

⁃ He’s up and getting you water and a cool rag, making some tea with medicine from Madja as soon as you are up

⁃ If he has to go anywhere, he leaves his shadows with you to keep him updated on how you’re doing or if you need anything

⁃ He gets you your favorite flowers and a book, which he reads to you as you take a warm bath, the water helping with any congestion

⁃ Picks out your favorite clothes for you to sleep in, keeping an eye on you while being careful not to pester you too much

Rhys

⁃ Rhys secretly loves the excuse to take care of you

⁃ You usually tease him for using magic to do the smallest things, so he takes every opportunity to make anything you could need appear in an instant. You want warm soup? Right there. Another blanket? Five blankets of various fabrics appear without hardly a thought.

⁃ You are not leaving the bed. Rhys pushes any meetings or responsibilities he has to stay with you, taking the opportunity as the perfect excuse to spend quality time with you, absolutely spoiling you in every way

Cassian

⁃ Cassian gets anxious, immediately going to Madja for any possible medicine you could need

⁃ He would ask for step by step instructions on how to best care for you while you’re sick, and stick to that routine

⁃ He makes sure to make you food with lots of nutrients to boost your immune system

⁃ Azriel and Feyre both tell him to calm down and that you just need to rest, so Cassian carries you everywhere. He is undressing you, lifting you into the bathtub, washing your hair…

⁃ And then he discovers how much he likes carrying you everywhere, cradling you to his chest bridal style. It becomes a tough habit for him to break once you’re feeling better

Lucien

⁃ listens to you and what you need

⁃ He’ll do lots of small things, like bringing you a sweet treat or small gift to cheer you up

⁃ Knowing you feel terrible, he consistently tells you how beautiful you look and how lucky he is to be your mate, despite your laughter and protests

⁃ Plans a special night for the two of you once you’re better doing something he knows you love

Eris

⁃ this sweet baby is on high alert the moment he notices something is wrong

⁃ Once you’ve assured him that no one hurt you, you just aren’t feeling well, he checks you over thoroughly

⁃ He will make sure that you are tended to for everything you could need, assigning various people to give you medicine, cook you whatever meals you like, etc

⁃ But he’ll complain that they’re not doing a sufficient job and take over, halting his duties to take care of you

Throne of Glass

Rowan

⁃ Teases you for getting sick, saying you’re being irresponsible and not taking care of yourself

⁃ But he’ll insist on caring for you, making no sure you get plenty of rest and that no one bothers you with responsibilities

⁃ He’s the perfect one to hold you when you’re sick, his warm body soothing against yours as he wills a gentle, cool wind against your face

Crescent City

Hunt

⁃ he’d hear your small cough when he came in the house and immediately crumble

⁃ He’d rush over to you, asking what hurts and if he can get you anything to drink or eat, ordering your favorite food to be delivered

⁃ He’d pick you up in his lap, bundling you in blankets as he held you close until you fall asleep

⁃ He’d let you watch whatever show you wanted, even if the sunball game was on (but once you’re asleep, sunball is back on the TV)

⁃ Forehead kisses. Constantly. Carrying you into the shower, softly washing your body while he kisses all over your head and shoulders, wherever he can show physical affection

Ruhn

⁃ This cute dumbass would tease you at first, probably ask if you’re hungover

⁃ Once he realizes you’re sick, he’d go all out. Messaging Flynn and Dec to gather food and medicine for you while he sets you up in your shared room with blankets, pillows, TV, etc

⁃ He lays in bed with you, absentmindedly playing with your hair, watching tv, just to be there if you need anything and so you don’t feel alone

⁃ He’s definitely searching on his phone “will I catch my girlfriend’s sickness if I go down on her?”

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shepherds-of-haven · 5 months ago

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Hi, Lena. It's currently over 90F where I live right now... so that made me curious, how would the Shepherds handle a really hot summer/how do they beat the heat?

Hello anon, I feel your pain: we have an "excessive heat warning" in our area right now too and the high of this week will be 111F! 🥲 Remember to wear sunscreen and stay hydrated!

Blade: he 'handles' heat all right, but his skin is actually quite delicate and prone to sunburning easily, so unless he sticks to the shadows assassin-style, he's going to get burnt! No more training outdoors with his shirt off for him 🥲 He's usually good enough about not getting sunburnt that no one's seen his nose or the back of his neck all pink, but one day he'll slip up...

Trouble: he's a summer boy, he's totally fine in the heat (he's less fine in the cold) and doesn't seem to be affected by it at all, he sort of likes it (so long as it's a dry heat, which it is in Haven). He doesn't like how things get a bit sluggish and sleepy in the height of summer, but he himself physically is resilient and just fine!

Tallys: she's pretty much like a cat, she soaks up heat with relish and isn't too adversely affected by it; she likes the excuses to come up with cooling tea recipes and using a lot of basil and mint, so it's not really a problem for her, except that her poor garden does tend to wilt a bit when the sun is at its worst!

Shery: she stays indoors almost exclusively, so the summer doesn't have much of an effect on her in the general course of things. When she does have to go outside, she tends to overheat/feel a bit faint/get heatstroke quite fast if she's exerting herself, but that rarely needs to happen, so moving at a sedate pace is just fine for her!

Riel: this is the time of year where he's at his crabbiest. You try wearing a three-piece or more suit in blistering weather. His hair won't sit right and he wants to crawl out of his skin if there's even a hint of mugginess, humidity, or sweat. He shuts himself away in his office and hides from the sun like a vampire. You can't even enjoy a hot cup of tea or khav! And scheduling meetings across the city is miserable. Summer is just dreadful. Give him fall--or even better yet, winter--where he can just cozily toil away in comfort anytime!

Chase: I feel like summer is one of his favorite seasons for the simple fact that the city comes especially alive at nighttime, which are his Thriving Hours. Because many stores close during the day to beat the heat, a lot more people fill the streets at night, and night markets and general night life make the city practically buzz with evening activity. He loves this! And since he can adjust his schedule so he's basically sleeping during the day and becoming a Nocturnal Creature at night, the heat doesn't really affect him too much! Plus, he comes from the Southern Crescent, which is way more humid, so the summers in Haven are very mild to him in comparison!

Red: this is not his favorite time of year. I mean, he's often locked away in his workshop anyway, so it's not like he has a huge right to complain, but he's not really a huge "summer guy" and often viewed summers as a time of forced idleness when he was sent home for the holidays at the Circle, so it's not something he has any great enthusiasm for. His admirers, though, love the summer, because this is the time of year that Red sheds his heavy Mage-style robes in favor of rolled-up shirtsleeves and slightly-unbuttoned collars... you know... like a whore

Ayla: you'd better not complain about the temperature, weather, heat, or summer anywhere in her proximity. She came from the Jalis desert, you pussies (she barks to the whining recruits), where 2 minutes in the sun can dehydrate you and people regularly die of thirst!!! This is nothing!!! This is her bragging time, because the weather has 0 effect on her and she's out in the sun basking like a cat!

Briony: she's miserable and melting and weeping and wanting to throw up and die. She does a lot of her training outdoors, so the summer heat often forces her to wake up early, before dawn (which she HATES), or it's leaving her feeling ugly and frizzy and melty and damp with sweat like

"am I still pretty?..." 🥹

She doesn't have the luxury of hiding away indoors, just don't look at her for the next month!!! *dramatically runs away crying*

Lavinet: she's pretty much in the same boat as Briony! While visually, she fares much better and always looks immaculate, internally, she's pretty miserable. She hates how much more she sweats and how miserable it is to train outside, especially her long hair! But she's too proud of how long and beautiful her hair is to wear it up in a bun or anything, so she suffers in proud silence lol. On her off-days, she always walks around under a lady's parasol like she's afraid the sun is going to vaporize her, but she makes it look natural lol

Halek: he has mixed feelings on the summer heat! On the one hand, it's a really nice change of pace from the Reach (although, famously, summers up in Uth Baryd are lovely and mild and gorgeous), so he likes the heat as a physical ambient component, but he hates having to do any work in it... there's nothing better than taking a nap in the drowsy noontime summer heat, and everyone else seems to be doing it anyway, so...! This is the time of year when he's at his laziest lol

Mimir: she doesn't seem to notice it outwardly, but I will say that she prefers summer vastly more than winter! She just hangs out in the shade of her little tent and seems quite happy!

Caine: another summer baby, this is the time of year when he really thrives!

Croelle: if he has a preference at all, he prefers summer to winter. the heat doesn't have any effect on him!

Prihine: she has Trauma around the summertime now, so she prefers winter or spring...

#Shepherds of Haven #all characters #summer #heat #weather

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midnightmusings06 · 5 months ago

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Valentine’s Headcanons - SDV Bachelor Edition Pt. 1

summary: What the sdv bachelors would do for you on Valentine’s Day!

pairing: sdv bachelors x gender neutral farmer

category: fluff

word count: 819

a/n: these are inspired by some of the heart events + personal headcanons <3

Sebastian:

You awake to find a note and somewhat large package on your front porch, the note from your boyfriend in his scratchy handwriting reading, “I’ll pick you up at sunset tonight, and bring what’s in the package, you’ll need it. Love, Sebastian”

Opening the package you find a motorcycle helmet, a small heart encrusted with amethyst crystals laid into the helmet.

Sebastian arrives right on time, the sky alight with shades of bright pink and purples, pulling into the pathway in front of your house clad in leather with his own helmet, now adorning an amethyst heart to match yours.

Stepping off of his bike, he takes off his helmet to greet you with a sweet smile, his eyes drinking you in.

He scoops you up bridal style, carrying you to his bike as you giggle.

“Where are we going?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you now would it?” He teases you gently.

You tuck your arms around his waist, holding tightly as he speeds you down the long highway outside of Stardew Valley.

Driving up a mountain range, you suddenly begin to recognize where you are headed.

Sitting above the luminous Zuzu City, is the same spot that you two confessed your love, and kissed for the first time.

Under the striking moonlight, he holds you in his arms, kissing you gently and caressing your hands with his own.

He gifts you a gorgeous gold sun ring, to match his own silver crescent moon ring.

After riding back home way past midnight, you end your evening snuggled up together in your bed, as he mutter sweet nothings as you slowly drift off to sleep.

Harvey:

He catches you in the town square that morning headed to Pierre’s, the tips of his ears a bright red and a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead.

He manages to stutter out, “Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner tonight, dear?”

You of course accept, and dress to the nines for him, wearing your favorite outfit and your hair nicely done.

Walking into his house, the lights are dim, candles are scattered throughout the room and an elegant spread of your favorite (and healthy!) foods are laid across the dining room table.

Poor Harvey is so nervous as it’s your first Valentine’s Day together, but you manage to calm his nerves, assuring him that everything is perfect.

You enjoy a quiet meal together, soft music playing in the background, and his fishes a small box out of his coat pocket.

He walks to your side and offers it to you, and opening it, you find a heart shaped pendant necklace.

“May I?” He holds the necklace, his eyes staring into yours, with such a look of love and care.

You nod, and he lays the necklace around you with a gentle touch, fingers brushing against your neck.

Your evening ends with an evening walk back to your farm, where he musters up the courage to kiss your lips ever so tenderly, before letting go of your hand and walking home himself, feeling giddy with love.

Elliot:

He left you a letter in your mailbox, writing to you in his signature cursive style, “Happy Valentine’s Day my darling, please meet me at the dock today at 1 o’clock, I’ve prepared something special for you. Love, Elliot”

After you finish your farm chores, you head to the dock and see Elliot standing beside a small boat, equipped with two oars.

“Good afternoon my love, you look absolutely ravishing today. Happy Valentine’s Day,” He whispers, kissing your cheek.

Taking your hand, he helps you into the boat so as not to fall, where he sits opposite you, still clutching your hand.

He rows you out into a small secluded cove near Ginger Island, where he’s prepared a decadent feast of wine and all kinds of extravagant foods.

Hand feeding you fruits and such, he holds you in his arms, your back against his chest, trailing kisses from your ear to your collarbone, reciting the poems he’s written for you, about the little things like your quirks and interests and special moments between the two of you.

The sun sets from midday to sunset to evening, as the two of you walk along the cove’s beach, footprints trailed behind you.

Stumbling upon a forest filled with tropical flowers, Elliot plucks several, weaving them into an exquisite crown for you, laying it upon your head.

When the two of you finally grow tired from the events of the day, Elliot will row you back to Pelican Town, thanking you for such a wonderful day, and kissing your hand farewell.

#stardew valley #sebastian x reader #harvey x reader #elliot x reader #pelican town #sdv fluff #sdv harvey #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

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Making do (George Russell)

George moving to Monaco has a bigger impact than you anticipated

Note: english is not my first language. This is my attempt at getting back into writing, I hope this is half decent at least.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: long distance relationship

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Did you have a big day today?", your friend, "Actually, let me rephrase that. How big was your day today?", she chuckled. "I finally handed in the last paperwork so HR can process my transfer from departments, so hopefully in a week or so everything will be sorted, like accesses and all that", you explained, "but it's been good, you know? I've worked a lot towards this and to finally get it, it means a lot", you said, hearing your phone beep with a notification from your boyfriend, "is it your man?", your friend asked, smiling knowingly.

"Yes, George wants to go and have dinner to celebrate", you blushed, "he just texted me the details of the reservation so I can get ready on time", you said, setting your phone down after quickly replying to him that you would be ready by the time he would pick you up back at home.

"Whenever you need to go, let me know, but for now, I have this gossip I want to tell you, you'll never believe it", she smiled, warming her hands in her cup of coffee as she told you a out the latest rumours she heard in her office.

When the time came, you both said goodbye as you made your way to your and George's shared apartment, leaving your shoes and coat on the hallway closet and heading straight to the shared bedroom, taking your clothes off so you could shower. While the dinner wasn't a fancy occasion, you still wanted to dress nice and look good since it was a celebration still. Picking the dress from your wardrobe, you fastened the delicate zipper and tied the belt, looking at your self in the mirror as you soothed out the wrinkles.

It didn't take long before you heard George arrive, the clicking of the lock on the door catching your attention as you walked to the hallway, "hey, darling", George greeted, grabbing your hand and making you do a little spin, whistling after kissing your lips, "you look gorgeous", he complimented, "are you ready to go?".

"I'll just freshen up in the bedroom and then we can get going then", George said, quickly styling his hair and spraying on some extra cologne, "even though I don't think we need this, I want to say thank you for doing this", you mumbled against his hand laced in yours, kissing his knuckles as you walked out, "you deserve to be celebrated everyday, Y/N".

The monegasque sun was shinning despite the cold breeze caressing your skin. You and George had gone out for a run before you both had work meetings, deciding to stop in a little café to have breakfast out of the house for a change.

"It's still a nice day today, maybe later tonight we can plan something, hm?", your boyfriend suggested while you sipped your juice, "That's a good idea, yes", you smiled, looking at the crescent buzz, the city becoming alive as more people got up and headed on with their days.

"You have something on your mind, I can tell", you held your hand out on the table, his fingers finding yours and playing with them, "I do, actually", George cleared his throat, "I've been thinking a lot about this recently, and with the meetings I had last week, it became a bit more obvious to me where I am standing on this. I've been waiting to tell you once I had a more set opinion and I knew how things would play out, and I obviously care about your thoughts, too. I've been thinking about moving here", he stated, his eyes looking for your immediate reaction, "and I'd like you to move here with me, too".

It had always been a conversation the minute things started getting more serious, so it wasn't a shock per se. Most of his colleagues either lived in Monaco or spent a good part of the year there. The question wether you'd be sble to join him, however, was not such a sure topic.

"Obviously, I don't want to rush your decision, even though I'd love to have you here with me, and there are a lot of hoops to go through, but it's something to think about", George added, squeezing your hand in his, "yes, something to think about definitely".

"I can't go". That's what George heard from you as you sat at the dinner table. On his way from the factory and after he had sorted a few errands down on the new apartment in the principality, your boyfriend picked up your favourite take-away, and now you had dropped your decision. "I just got a work promotion, my friends are here, my family is here, too. I can't just leave, at least for now", you explained. "And I love you, so much, George, but I can't go, I can't leave here", you gulped, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

"That's okay, darling. We'll make this work, right?", he nudged. He didn't want to lose you, not at this expense, not ever, but right now, this seemed to have triggered a new fear.

"We'll do our best", you tried, "it's either making this work or breaking up, right?". The sentence left your mouth in the most innocent and naive way possible, but the words resonated with you and George.

"Can you promise me something?", George asked and you nodded, "you'll always talk to me the minute anything feels off, and I'll do the same with you", he stated, getting up and making you get up too, pulling you flush against his chest, kissing the top of your head.

"Deal", you smiled, resting your chin on his chest, "but you'll have to let me help decorate".

"The apartment feels lonely, I have to admit", George said over FaceTime as you both had dinner, him in Monaco and you in London. It had become the only time in the schedule where you were able to speak to eachother that wasn't in text form.

"It's the same here", you admitted, "feels way too big without you here, but we're making do, right?", you smiled, rolling the spaghetti on your fork.

You were making do until you weren't, that's what you thought as you drove to the airport to pick your boyfriend up. He was flying in today for the first time in a month, and the butterflies in your stomach weren't all just anticipation to finally see him. You had promised eachother that you would tell the other when it wasn't working and when you felt like things needed a change, and tonight would be exactly that. To prove yourself that it was just the distance and not something else entirely.

George walked through the terminal with his small carry-on bag, the buzz of the families gathering their children in one place and people collecting their bags behind him as he walked as fast as he could without running into anyone. He missed you loads, and part of him wishes you missed him like that, too, despite not liking the idea that, like him, you had spent nights up thinking about your relationship or that your work meetings were also interrupted by nagging thoughts and doubts about how you were doing the long distance relationship.

It didn't take him long to see you amongst the crowd. The later flight meant a lot less people in the airport when you compared to other situations where you picked him up, making it easy for him to reach you, "hey, darling", he hugged you, "I've missed you so much", he whispered into your hair.

Inhaling his scent brought you to a calmer state of mind. George was home and his presence alone would always make you feel at home no matter what, and maybe that was hard to admit, but equally necessary, "I missed you too, handsome. How was your flight?", you asked, hugging his waist as you walked to the carpark, "it was good, not too bumpy".

The ride to the apartment was filled with comfortable conversatiom, George's hand on your thigh as you drove while you chatted about what you heard on the radio, parking the car in the garage and heading up.

"I didn't know if you had eaten enough on the plane, so in case you were hungry, I made some extra food for dinner", you announced, "it's in the fridge if you'd like", while you stored your coat away in the hallway closet.

"I'm good, thanks. I've been thinking about some cuddles though", he mumbled, kissing your forehead and circling your waist, "to the sofa?", he wondered, guiding you both to sit against the soft pillows.

The feeling of being in your boyfriend's embrace after such a long time must've triggered your emotions, soon enough bringing tears to your eyes, "darling, what's the matter? Is something hurting you?", George asked, his thumbs coming up to wipe your tears.

"I know we promised to tell eachother right away, but I also wanted to give it time", you hiccuped, "and it wasn't the best idea, because I feel like this", your lip trembled.

George rubbed your back now, hoping to get you to breathe a little slower and calmer, "what have you been wanting to tell me?", he asked.

"We said we would be honest, so this is me being honest. I don't know about you, but I'm not enjoying being away from you. I knew it wouldn't be good, but I didn't think it would be this bad. And it's not fair to ask you to move back here, nor it is fair for me to have to go to you, so this is a big big whole mess", you explained, looking at George's somewhat stunned expression.

"I have to admit that I don't like it either, but it's like you say, it's not fair to ask either of us to move, not like this anyway", he tiptoed around the subject. He wanted you to be with him so badly he has most likely considered all of the possibilities to solve this situation, and very few of them actually seemed doable.

"So what do we do?", you asked, afraid of the answer you'd get, remembering the small joke you made about breaking up a few weeks ago, "darling, I love you so much, but we need to sort this out", you yelped.

Shuffling in his seat, George looked at the situation clearly, "I want you to feel comfortable, Y/N, and if this situation isn't doing that for you, then it needs sorting out. If there is anything we can do to make it better, I'm in. Darling, I'm all in of it helps us", he pleaded.

"I need to think about all of these things, all of these situations", you said, getting up, "I'm sleeping in the spare bedroom, okay?", you checked with George, "I love you and I need to figure this out on my own", you tried, hoping he would understand.

Nodding, your boyfriend noted his understanding, "of course, whatever it is to help us, I meant it", he got up, his hand brushing your hair behind your ear, "I love you, Y/N".

Walking to the spare bedroom didn't feel as lonely as you thought it would, most likely because you had grown accustomed to sleeping on your own, but knowing George was on the other side of the wall helped. He had been understanding and supportive, and to know that he was giving you time to think this through without any judgement or pressure.

It was weird for some people, but making a list of pros and cons for situations like this helped you decide. The written words and the way you weighed them in according to the different criteria allowed you to think about it. You saw your future with George in it, that was a no brainer, so there had to be wiggle room. Because you had a good relationship with your boss, the later hours on the clock didn't keep you from sending her an e-mail, her answer being one of the confirmations you needed.

Grabbing your phone, you checked the last time your parents had been online, pressing dial when you saw they were still awake, "hey guys, I have something to ask you", you began, "how bad would it be if I spent a little less time here?".

George woke up alone like he had fallen asleep. After getting ready, he headed to the kitchen, hearing a small noise from the spare bedroom as he thought you were just getting up, almost recognising which step you were in your routine by the noises.

"Good morning", you said, catching your boyfriend's attention as he buttered some toast, "hey, darling, did you have a good sleep?", he asked. He wanted to know if you had made a decision or reached a conclusion, but asking upfront wasn't the smoothest idea, he thought.

"I did okay", you fumbled with your feet, not knowing how to approach the situation, "I got an email from Anna", you said, seeing George's puzzled expression, "I asked her if I could work remotely, pop to the office every now and again, but mostly remote, and she said yes", you explained further, seeing his smile.

"I'm not doing this out of obligation, I'm doing this for me and for you too in a way, but because I want us to be okay, I want us to be good", you grabbed his hands, "and I'll still spend some time here, but it will be sporadic".

"This is great, you have no idea how much this means to me", George hugged you, "you're incredible, Y/N Y/L/N, and I'll never stop saying that".

"Only one thing, though", you tapped his nose, "my parents demanded that, since we're moving, that they can visit and whenever we're back home, mum wants to have dinner", you shrugged your shoulders as your boyfriend laughed, "Oh, what a bother to have to eat your mum's delicious cooking and your father's cheesecake"

#george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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dawneternal · 4 months ago

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The Benevolent | Ten

☁︎ Eris x Healer OC

☁︎ notes: alternative title to this chapter could be "Aya goes to the night court and is intimidated by several attractive people."

Some of Aya's internal dialogue is inspired by I'll Be Good by Jaymes Young and a struggle with OCD.

I'm sorry it's been a while 💛 big big writing slump

☁︎ warnings: Rhysand being sneaky, Aya recounts a rough childhood, toxic/abusive parents, social anxiety

☁︎ word count: 4.8k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ taglist: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor @secret-third-thing @bookwormysblog @mal-adaptive-dreams @daycourtofficial @roseodelle @sbgal

Rhysand was quick to answer Aya's inquiry. He promised to answer her questions to best of his abilities and invited her his home.

Aya gladly took the opportunity, with Velaris being a new discovery to the rest of Prythian. She would likely be one of the first visitors. That almost made Thesan agree to come, but his days were still too full.

The first thing Aya saw upon approaching were the layers of wards, forming a dome and encasing the city like a snow globe. The most recent one was marked with Rhysand's distinctive style of magic, an extra flourish of power with the essence of Illyrian magic.

The other wards went back in time, some so ancient they had melded with the fabric of the world to become nearly permanent. Whatever magic Hybern had used to penetrate this defense and attack the city must have been something deadly indeed. If Rhysand had not carved a spot for her today, her powers would not have made it through.

The wards had obscured the details of the city, like a sheer curtain over the landscape. With the curtain pulled away and the view revealed, Aya's breath caught in her throat. The first thing she saw was the winding sidra, crawling through the valley like a jeweled snake. To one side, the sea moved in a lazy reach toward the horizon. On the other, a wall of dark mountains curved around the outline of the city, forming a crescent moon shape.

Aya knew that the Illyrians lived in those mountains, as if they could not bear to be any further away from the sky. And beneath the ground, the Hewn City was carved into the stone of the mountain, like the darkness was the thing they prized most about the Night Court.

The House of Wind came into view, tall windows and white carved balconies jutting out from the mountain side. Rhysand appeared on one of them, his wings a dark smudge against the marble.

The wind carried the scent of the sea and the chill of the mountains, wrapping itself around her as she landed. Rhysand greeted her with a signature grin, hands tucked into his pockets as he watched her shake out her wings.

"Welcome to Velaris, Aya," He smiled. Aya had almost forgotten how smooth and lovely his voice was. She tucked her wings in tight and bowed, grateful for the opportunity to hide her flushed cheeks.

"Thank you for the invitation, High Lord."

"Please, call me Rhys," He said, eyes twinkling, "It's not very often someone agrees to visit the House of Wind."

Aya turned, glancing at the steep drop below the railing of the balcony. Growing up in the Dawn Court Palace, she had become accustomed to the threat of much steeper drops. The song of the wind, the itch in her wings to spread and fly dulled the fear.

"It's a beautiful view," She admitted, watching wisps of mist float by, obscuring little pieces of the city below.

"Thank you. It is my pride and joy. Besides my family, of course. And I have managed to keep my busybody brothers occupied for the time being, but they are very curious to meet you."

Aya smiled. There were many stories about the boisterous inner circle, about as well controlled as a pack of puppies. Having been raised with only Thesan for company, the idea of a large, chaotic family charmed her.

"I'm happy to meet them if the time allows.”

Rhysand led her inside to a spacious dining room, the tall moonstone ceiling looming above them. The windows were all half-open, letting sunshine and soft breezes swirl through the room, pulling the sheer curtains into a dance and illuminating the crystal dishes.

"So Aya," Rhysand began as he pulled out a chair for her, "I am very curious."

Aya sat in the plush velvet chair, admiring the way it had been made to accommodate wings. The Dawn Court opted for cushions and low tables.

"About a good many things," He continued, sitting across from her, "Firstly, why write to me instead of the Day Court?"

Rhysand snapped his fingers and the teapot rose of its own accord, floating over to fill her cup. She stared at the iridescent tea cup, watching the liquid rise, and decided to answer honestly.

"Helion seems to have a thing for wings," She said, and Rhysand tipped his head back and laughed.

"You're absolutely right," He chuckled.

"And...you have a mate," Aya averted her gaze again, pulling her lip between her teeth. Still, she could see his dark eyebrows raise in her peripheral.

"Well," He said, after it became clear that she did not plan on elaborating, "I will answer to the best of my abilities. But secondly-”

There was a twinkle that made her nervous as he paused, “I wonder how you enjoyed the High Lord's meeting. I suppose you had a good view from up there.”

Aya felt her eyes widen and her spine straighten.

“You saw me?”

“My spymaster’s shadows did.” Rhysand chuckled again.

“But you didn't say anything. How did you know I wasn't a spy?”

“The shadows identified you as Thesan's cousin. There's not much use for a spy at a meeting that Thesan was attending himself. I felt that it was safe to assume you were just curious. Am I right?”

He tilted his head to the side, stars dancing in his eyes.

“Yes,” She admitted, feeling a little bare beneath his teasing smile, and a little grateful that she was not scolded.

“And what did you think?”

A few answers came to mind, but none of them seem to be the right one. Beron is a scourge was among the first but it didn't feel like something she should say out loud. Even if Rhysand would agree.

Her palms began to feel a little sweaty. But Thesan would not have sent her if he thought the alliance between their courts would crumble due to Aya's conversational skills.

“It was interesting,” She said finally, and Rhysand smiled in response, “So many personalities in one place.”

“I’d certainly say it was a celebration of Prythian’s diversity,” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “But anyway, tell me about yourself, Aya. I know a good deal about a good many people, but I'm not familiar with your story."

Violet eyes watched intently over the rim of his cup as he took a sip of tea and waited for her response. Aya did the same, letting the drink linger on her tongue, savoring the taste of turmeric and ginger to stall for time.

She'd been asked similar questions before. There had been more than a few inquiries in her lifetime, ruthlessly sorting through her past to search for the source of her powers. She wanted to believe that Rhysand would not be one of them. But either way, the thing that she wanted was on the other side of opening up.

"My mother and Thesan's mother were twins," She began, hoping he did not notice the tightness of her voice, "Though they were opposites in personality. My aunt was doting and kind. My mother was...distant and jealous. They cared deeply for each other, though."

She paused and took another sip, letting the warmth spread through her body and thaw the frost that formed at the memory of her mother.

"I didn't know my father, but I got my wings from him. I was raised with Thesan by his parents. When Thesan's mother died, mine passed away shortly after. As if they could not stand to be apart. I'm not sure which one of my parents I got my powers from."

"Yes, you briefly mentioned your powers," Rhysand tilted his head to the side. She was grateful that he kept any pity off his features. He was welcome to pity her in his mind, but she did not care to see it.

"They are...a bit strange," She chewed her lip. She would rather talk about her powers than her parents, but it was still not particularly easy.

"I understand that feeling," He smiled, and it was then Aya remembered Thesan's first warning. To keep her mind shielded from Rhysand's powers. She wondered what it would look like when his power reached out toward her. But all she had seen so far were the wards encircling the House of Wind.

"I can see things that others can't," She started, hoping he did not notice her pause as she checked her shields. Were his powers present all the time like hers? Or did he have to make a conscious effort to use them?

"The dead?" He asked, as if it were not a strange question at all, though his features had grown more serious.

"Magic. Personalities. Wards, spells, wounds. I've watched souls depart to the afterlife, but once they are gone I can't see them anymore."

Rhysand nodded slowly, his eyes far away like he was skimming through pages in his mind. Those dark brows had knit together in focus, his fingers threaded together on the table.

"Not the future, or the past?" He asked, gaze still focused elsewhere.

"No," She said, "Only the world around me. For example, I can see the wards around Velaris and the outline of your wings."

Rhysand's eyebrows flickered upwards. Indeed, she could see the wings he hid with magic, hovering behind him as if they were here but invisible.

"I suppose it helps your healing to be able to see what you are doing," He said.

"Yes, but I only see things when my eyes are closed. And people are represented by an object of their essence."

The space between his eyebrows softened, eyes igniting with interest.

"Do explain."

Aya hesitated, unsure where to begin.

"Your general," She started, noting the flicker of a smile pass over the High Lord's face, “Healing his wounds is like knitting. With homespun wool yarn and wooden knitting needles. It's been mended in so many places I couldn't count them all.”

“You have no idea how many homespun wool sweaters I wore in Windhaven,” His voice held something like reverence, “Grey and white like everything else in those mountains. Very warm, though.”

“Thesan is a vase,” Aya went on, “cracked all over and repaired with burnished gold. In the shape of traditional pottery from our court.”

Rhysand's eyes held so much curiosity that Aya had no trouble reading the question he held back behind pursed lips.

“You are a quilt,” She indulged his questioning glance, “And each block is made of a different night sky, likely important ones through your lifetime.”

The High Lord's face shifted into something unreadable, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“And there are stars,” Aya studied his expression closely, fidgeting with her hands under the table, “Silver stars stitched on with silver thread. The stars eternal.”

Rhysand's gaze snapped over to her, and Aya closed her mouth tight. It was another moment before he said anything, and anxiety began to creep in as she waited to be told she had said something wrong.

“My mother was a seamstress,” He said, softly. And that was all. Aya let her shoulders fall again.

He took another sip of tea and cleared his throat.

“I have heard of those that can see beyond the rest of us. It is a type of ability in the same branch as the daemati, and just as rare. They are called the videmati. Some of them had a third eye tattooed on themselves out of pride.”

All of the breath left Aya's lungs as she stared at him. An answer, after all this time.

“There's a name for it?” She croaked.

Rhysand nodded. “The bad news is that no one has known of a videmati in Prythian since before I was born. I do not know if the same goes for the continent. I have also never heard of videmati powers having combined with healing powers, but it's possible you may have inherited multiple forms of magic. Being a healer may be what gives you the ability to interact with what you see. I may have more information in my library.”

“What can I pay you for it?” Aya blurted as she leaned in, desperate for more breadcrumbs.

Rhysand chuckled, a sound not at all pure in its joy. He took another long sip of tea, leaving Aya struggling to keep still in her anticipation. Perhaps she should not have suggested a price. Maybe then it would have been free. Violet eyes bored into her, openly calculating.

“Owe me a favor?” He said finally, tilting his head to the side, his smile something vulpine.

Perhaps it was too harsh of an interpretation, but she had remembered too late what Thesan's second warning had been. That Rhysand was, at heart, a collector.

“What kind of favor?” Aya straightened her shoulders, reigning in her desperation, pulling her poise back over herself like a shroud. As intensely as she wished for more information, she had never let herself be used for her powers and she would not begin now.

“Only a favor that a friend would ask of a friend.” It was strange, how a pair of eyes could hold both the brightness of the moon and the inky blackness of the night.

“You're asking to be my friend?”

Rhysand held out his hand.

“A friend wouldn't use a friend for their powers, would they?”

Had her shields been down? Had he heard her thoughts, or was she that easy to read? She blinked slowly to catch a glimpse of that other space. Midnight darkness enveloped her mind and the silver stars blinked back at her, steady as always and revealing no hint of Rhysand's motive.

Videmati, Aya repeated the word in her mind, savoring the taste of knowing what she was. She reached out and shook the High Lord's hand.

The familiar snap and sting of magic prickled her skin, revealing a band of interlocking swirls and stars around her forearm. She brushed her fingers over it, the hand with Edana's ring, and tried to swallow the sinking feeling in her stomach.

“That looks like the sidra,” Rhysand smiled.

He obviously shared her affinity for tattoos, judging by the artwork peeking out around his sleeves and collar. But Aya usually liked to pick her own, even if the Night Court style was pretty.

“So,” He went on as Aya whirled from the weight of another bargain, “You did very well in the war.”

His gaze had not become any less predatory. Could he not have thought of a more subtle way to broach the subject?

“Thank you,” Aya murmured, lowering her eyes to the tiny rainbows the sunlight cast through the dishes.

“You mentioned that you've only had training for your healing. Have you ever considered what you might do with your other skill set?”

Aya forced herself to hold her teacup steady. To take a calm sip and return the cup to the table. The liquid still rippled, despite her efforts, and she was sure that Rhysand saw it too.

"I have considered that I may help a great many people in my lifetime," She said, swallowing the bite that threatened to claw up her throat.

"Indeed," He nodded, "But what about the other end of the spectrum? You heal with less effort than it takes for you to fly. If you channeled your thoughts in another direction-”

"I have not," Aya loosened the leash on her temper, just a touch, "and I will not. Ever.”

Rhysand's eyes narrowed. Not in anger, but in challenge. And the tone of a gracious host had hardened into something belonging to a leader.

"Your power could have been an incredible asset.”

He may have promised not to use her for her power, but he would try to convince her. Aya cursed herself for always falling for these stupid tricks and games. What would Eris have done? He would have seen right through Rhysand. Somehow, Aya could see into the ether but still stumbled through her interactions. She could see the grander picture of a person's being, and still could not guess what they might do or say next.

"I do not have to kill just because it would be easy for me." She dropped the tone of a gracious guest.

Rhysand blinked. He was quiet for a moment, a silence she could not read the meaning of. She used the time to picture herself dropping ice into the vat of bubbling lava that was her anger. Anger at Rhysand and at herself. At her powers for being so convoluted.

"It would be easy for you though," He said quietly, a question and a statement.

Yes. It would be. She had never tried, but she knew it.

It haunted her. Sometimes the thought came to her as she was healing, how easily she could tear a life from this world. It made her hands tremble so terribly that she could not work and reminding herself of her dedication to goodness did nothing to help. Her thoughts became a prayer, then. A desperate plea to any deity that would listen.

I'll be good I'll be good I'll be good.

The high Lord's voice interrupted her spiral.

"There was more you wanted to ask me, wasn't there?" He said, changing the subject even though she had never answered him. His tone was apologetic, eyes looking a little sad.

Had her mental shields been down? She couldn't tell.

"Yes," Aya swallowed hard, shoving down every thought and feeling with skill honed over nearly a century. It was difficult to continue to peel herself open in front of him, but she had to.

"I have questions...about the mating bond.”

Rhysand only raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue.

"I would like to know if one is able to create a mating bond with their own magic,” She did not avert her gaze, though she wanted to. And though she knew her cheeks burned deep red.

"I don't think so," Rhysand said slowly, his eyes far away as he sorted through his knowledge of magic, "It is the Mother who decides the bonds. Though perhaps it's possible to uncover a match that has already been decided.”

Aya's heart twisted, an ache filling her chest.

"Did you see it, as it happened?"

"At the battle with Hybern," She nodded, and Rhysand winced.

"Not the loveliest place to discover the bond," He grimaced.

"No," Aya agreed, voice laced with bitterness, "I was healing. Mending a tapestry. The thread turned to gold and it was attached to my finger."

"That sounds like you were given the gift of witnessing your bond snap," He said softly, with something like awe.

"So I didn't make it myself?" She asked, her posture wrought with worry, "I didn't...trap him?”

"Ah," Rhysand shook his head, "I don't think you need to worry. I think you both had the same amount of choice in it that the rest of us do."

Relief flooded through Aya's body, washing away those weeks of anxiety and guilt.

"Have you told him?" He asked, so carefully, so gently. Edged with a noseiness that would have amused Aya if the matter were not so painful. So he was not just a collector of powerful people then, but of gossip as well. And the earnest sparkle of his eyes was that of a romantic. How quickly he could change faces.

This tenderness was such a contrast to the growls and snarls at the High Lord's meeting. To the man who disintegrated a thousand men with the flick of his wrist. And the one who had questioned her magic like a warlord eyeing weapons for his arsenal. If his fae body could house both a monster and a friend, maybe hers could too.

Aya did not answer, only pursed her lips and looked away. In her daydreams, she had never been in this position. Having to tell someone she cared for that they were stuck with her. In her daydreams, she had always been chosen.

His eyes glittered with an amusement that she did not understand. Some story about him and his mate, surely. Usually, she would have loved to hear such a story. But everything related to love and mates left a sour taste on her tongue. Rhysand must have sensed this. His smile faded, turning into something more empathetic. He opened his mouth to say something else but stopped, his gaze shifting to something beyond the open windows.

Aya turned her head toward the balcony, where the beating of wings rolled through the air like thunder. The general and the shadowsinger approached in the sky, each with a figure in their arms. Rhysand stood and Aya copied, gulping down her nerves.

The Illyrians landed with ease, the motion perfected by centuries in the sky. They released their passengers - the High Lady and her oldest sister. Feyre wore an easy smile, but her sister looked uncomfortable at best. Their wardrobe reflected the dark jewel tones of the Night Court, velvet skirts and sheer embroidered sleeves.

"Come in, busybodies," Rhysand called, perking up in the presence of his wife. His eyes were glued to her, gleaming with love as he followed her every move.

"Aya, I'm so glad you decided to visit Velaris," Feyre greeted, her voice warm and friendly as she held out her hand for Aya to shake. “This is my sister, Nesta.”

Nesta gave a brief, tiny smile, before crossing her arms and closing in on herself again.

“I know you've met Cassian,” Rhysand said before any silence could fall.

The General grinned and followed suit, shaking her hand with a crushing grip.

"It's great to officially meet you," He said, "After all the patching up you've done. Thank you for that, by the way. You do great work."

He stepped back to let his brother speak, but the Shadowsinger did not offer his hand. In fact, he tucked them farther into his body. Though tendrils of his shadows reached toward Aya's ankles, wrapping around them. She almost jumped at the feeling, like a cool mist brushing her skin.

"Sorry," Azriel mumbled, and Aya could have sworn a blush ghosted over his cheeks. "They're curious."

Aya did not miss the way Rhysand's eyebrows raised at this statement, but she ignored it, unsure what any of it meant.

"So," Cassian said, when the introductions were complete, "Can I see?"

He motioned to her wings and the High Lady scolded him under her breath. Aya's cheeks flushed but she obliged, taking a step back and spreading her wings wide.

"You've never seen feathered wings up close?" She asked as Cassian began circling her wings, observing with reverence.

"It's been a few centuries," He replied, "And Dawn seems to be a pretty reserved bunch."

"That's true," Aya had to smile at that, picturing Thesan's expression if Cassian were to ask to look at his wings.

"They are lovely," Feyre said softly, her gaze tracking over the details of her feathers.

"Thank you," Aya resisted the urge to wrap her wings around her body to hide from their curious eyes.

"Do you see that?" Cassian had stopped behind her, arms spread wide. Her wings extended far past his fingertips. He spread his own wings to compare and found that hers spanned farther.

"Longer than Az's," He grinned, earning a smirk from Nesta and a stifled giggle from Feyre.

"Shut up, Cass." Azriel muttered, that lovely shade of pink spreading over his ears again.

Aya bit down on her smile. She did not have the heart to tell them that Dawn Court wings were often larger than Illyrian ones.

Cassian finished his circling, facing her once more, and clapped his hands together.

"I thought of something on the way here," He grinned, and the rest of the group groaned. "We should have you compete with Helion. See which one of you could break through a ward first. It would be so entertaining."

Aya went still, eyes flicking over to the Shadowsinger. Had his shadows told him about her powers? Or maybe Rhysand had been that quick to tell his circle what he had learned? Both options made her chest feel tight.

Azriel did not shirk from her stare, but he offered no answers, either. Cassian did not seem to understand what he had revealed, waiting for an answer. So Aya only smiled and said,

"I'm not sure he could survive the blow to his ego."

Her hosts roared with laughter, and she hoped no one noticed that her smile did not reach her eyes.

The group meandered toward the dining table, and Aya caught a flash of deep blue from the corner of her eye as the High Lady's sister slipped away toward the hallway. She had almost disappeared from view when Rhysand's voice cut through the light chatter.

"Nesta," He said, and Aya watched the girl's shoulders stiffen before she turned around. Her expression was disinterested at best, but Aya could see something burning within her. And for reasons she didn't know, the sound of the High Lord's voice had stoked the flames.

"Are you headed to the library?" He continued, unaffected. One nod from Nesta. "Will you please take Aya with you?"

Nesta's gaze flicked over to Aya, raking slowly down her form. Aya had to fight the urge to squirm under her stare, something in it so reminiscent of the Autumn Court. Whatever Nesta found in her assessment had her face softening just the slightest amount. Almost imperceptibly.

Rhysand had gone back to the conversation at the table, as if he had no doubt that Nesta would follow his order. Either unaware or uncaring that she had been seemingly deciding whether or not to do so.

"Follow me," Nesta said, her voice low and scratchy. Aya swallowed hard, leaving behind the sound of soft laughter as she followed the girl into the dark hall.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Nesta led Aya through a set of ornate doors into the spacious library. It was surprisingly bright, lined with tall windows, the sunlight pouring in and illuminating swirling specks of dust. Twin alcoves faced each other on either side of the room, filled with velvet chairs and couches and stone fireplaces.

Without another word, Nesta disappeared between the rows of dark wood shelves and left Aya alone in the silence. Aya stood still for a moment, shifting her weight from foot to foot. When it became clear that Nesta would be offering no further instruction, she got to work scanning every title of every book within sight. The shelves spanned from the floor to the tall ceiling, but she could see almost to the top.

Time was lost to her as she hunted, pulled into a trance by the musty smell of the books and the cozy atmosphere of the library. She'd just added another book to her small stack when a voice startled her.

"What were you talking to Rhysand about?"

Aya jumped, wings flaring out to keep her from tumbling off the ladder. She stared down at Nesta for a moment, those intense silver eyes watching back unblinking, a few books tucked tightly into the girl's crossed arms.

"Um," Aya stammered, making her way back down the ladder.

Standing before Nesta made her heart beat a little faster. Nesta was taller than her, staring down the slope of her straight nose as she waited for an answer. Her beauty was as blunt as her words, angular and sharp. Somehow still lovely, in the way that a finely crafted sword could be. But the way that that she held herself, the invisible wall that she carried with her, told Aya that Nesta's heart was unreachable.

"I just had a few questions," She said, stooping to pick up her books and avoid Nesta's gaze for a moment.

Nesta tilted her head, appraising Aya again.

"Don't listen too carefully," She said.

"What?"

Nesta began to make her way back to the doorway, continuing over her shoulder, "I just think you shouldn't let anyone tell you who you should be. Or what you should become. Especially him."

There was a bite in the last words and it made Aya remember the new tattoo on her forearm. She shivered, wondering what more Nesta may know, wondering again what she had gotten herself into. But it seemed that this was all the information that Nesta was going to grace her with.

"You coming?" She called, not stopping this time.

Aya nodded, shuffling after her.

Just before she reached the door, Nesta's voice caught her once more, brushing against her skin like a soft breeze. Nesta was far enough ahead that it should have been hard to hear her, but it was like something had carried Nesta's words to her. Not a breeze, but a gust of magic.

"You're looking for information about your powers?" Nesta asked.

"Yes," Aya breathed.

And Nesta offered her a small smile. The first Aya had seen since she arrived. "I will see what I can do."

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Note on Aya's powers - I couldn't really find anything when searching the word daemati so I just made up my own and added 'vide' to mati

#the benevolent #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar oc #dawn court oc #dawn court healer #the dawn court #dawn court #eris x oc #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserran fanfiction

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porcelainseashore · 7 months ago

Text

Into the Ether (4)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Lots of blood drinking (+ its underlying issues), suggestive themes, mention of bodily fluids, and at least dubious consent for vampire turning ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Bury Me

Leon had reached a row of converted Victorian-style residential buildings in the Lower West Side of Uptown Raccoon City. Tall, stained glass windows lined their exterior, accented with a mixture of gabled and Mansard roofs. Pointed arches embellished with corbels and fretwork adorned the structures, detailing their rich architectural history. Despite them appearing frozen in time, harking back to the 19th century, everything else had been modernized for their inhabitants.

Scanning his keycard on the reader, he slipped in through the back entrance and hurried towards the rarely used service elevator that was stationed out of sight in a narrow corridor at the rear end of the building. He swiped his card again to gain access to his specific apartment floor, punching the button several times erratically, even though it had already lit up on the first try. Upon noticing that he had accidentally smudged blood from his hands onto it, he muttered a string of curses while using the cuff of his shirt to wipe it off.

Holding you close, he planted a desperate kiss against the crown of your head, as if by some miracle you would wake up from this nightmare, safe and sound in his arms. Your body temperature had dropped considerably, and with each passing second, he could feel your vitals waning as your life force ebbed into oblivion.

“Come on, stay with me,” he begged, his visage crumbling under the weight of grief, and out of habit, he thumbed at the gold cross pendant hanging from his necklace. If there was a god, he would let you live.

As soon as the elevator doors parted with a resonant ding, he sped out towards the only apartment door on the top floor. Feeling the side of the frame for a familiar indent, he pressed against it, and a matchbox sized cache slid out, containing a crescent shaped device. Attaching it to another metallic apparatus that he carried around in his pocket, he slotted it through the keyhole while simultaneously adjusting what looked like gears of an old-fashioned clock into place.

Despite all these years, he still had a penchant for puzzle solving, seeing as his former workplace, the Raccoon Police Station, had been a labyrinth in itself. And what better way to put his hobby to use than to invest into the security of his haven, by creating his own intricate lock mechanisms, complete with false walls and hidden passageways. It may seem a little over the top, but sometimes it was comforting to lose his nights designing and crafting the things that had made him human in the beginning.

With a satisfying click, the heavyset door creaked open on its hinges, revealing an immaculately kept and minimalist loft. He dashed in, shutting the door behind him before pushing the coffee table away and setting you down gently on the rug. You were the only blemish in the room, bleeding out from underneath him, staining the fabric in the pattern of angel’s wings.

He felt your pulse, weak and unsteady, and you were nearly gone. It crushed him to see you like this, your skin ashen and pale — the only shade of blue he never liked. As you lay there unresponsive like a corpse before him, he knew he needed to go through with what he had planned for you all long along. Even so, he had a hard time coming to terms with it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! He was meant to woo you, give you a taste of what the unlife had to offer, bring you over to his side and both of you would, what—? Live happily ever after?

Fucking hell, Leon. What the fuck were you thinking? he swore at himself internally. Ada’s words came back to haunt him. She was right, he had let his emotions get ahead of him again. Regardless, he had to fix this mess, and letting you die was out of the question, as was turning you into a mindless ghoul addicted to a blood bond. No, he would never do that to you.

“Forgive me,” he murmured, brushing the strands of your hair, which had clumped together in dried blood and sweat, out of your face. You were so deathly cold in your slumber…

Then, he broke the first of his promises and drained you dry. Images of you flooded his mind again as he latched his mouth onto your neck. He could feel your fears, your joys, and your sorrows. The first steps you had taken as a child, captured through the lens of an old home video; the family and friends you would leave behind; long, solitary walks in the woods; dancing your heart out in smoky nightclubs; ceiling-high shelves filled to the brim with musty books and DIY costumes you’d pieced together from scraps; every trinket and memento — all the signs of life that had made you happy.

There was no time for regrets. He could make you happier, he vowed. He will, he had to.

At the very last drop, he licked the bite marks close and let go, slashing his wrist against his teeth before placing it to your lips. His own sanguine fluid coated your lips in a cherry red stain, restoring a semblance of life to your otherwise waxen complexion, as it dripped down your throat. Slowly, your jaw began to move, lips puckering up as it suctioned against the open wound, the tip of your tongue licking across it over and over again like the sweetest nectar you’d ever savored.

“There you go, angel,” he panted, feeling the pressure grow taut around his wrist as he stroked your hair tenderly with his other hand. “Just a bit more.”

He concentrated on the act, investing the power of his vitae into you, passing on the curse of Caine which he had carried with him all this while. On top of that came the Bane and Compulsion of his clan, as well as its Disciplines and strengths.

You couldn’t explain why your body reacted so naturally to it, but your appetite for his vitae was insatiable, like an insurmountable tidal wave heading towards shore. Your eyes flew open and you caught his ocean blue gaze. Gasping for breath, you clamped down on his wrist even harder, earning you a gratifying moan that fell from his lips, as they twisted into an expression of excruciating euphoria.

Likewise, you felt the build up of sheer bliss with an underlying tinge of agony within you, as you continued drinking from him, unable to stop yourself, no matter how much you tried. Every fiber of your being burned like a warm, inviting flame. You were the epitome of a phoenix in a pyre, combusting and being reborn again, walking barefoot across searing hot coal unharmed, as the fire raged on. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, into eternal life.

And then he appeared before you like an ethereal, ghostly apparition, kneeling in the pews of a cathedral you didn’t recognize, praying fervently to a crucified man on a wooden cross. Subsequently, the scene switched to a hectic office space, permeated with the shrill sound of phones ringing and papers flying in every direction. There he stood in the center of the room, like the eye of a storm, a handgun secured in his holster as he moved the pins around on a crime board. One vision blurred into the other and it felt as if you were seeing his past, present and future all at once.

An immense rush of ecstasy filled your senses at the final image of you riding him like a horse, as if you were experiencing it for yourself firsthand. Sweat poured down your naked bodies as you rolled your hips back and forth against his lasciviously. His calloused hands squeezed the sides of your thighs, encouraging you to move faster as he thrust up into you. In the throes of passion, you threw your head back and cried out in excess, but found it muffled against his wrist as you abruptly returned to reality. Your eyes went straight to his, and the knowing look on his face gave it away, confirming that you had partaken in the last vision together.

The Beast was gnawing at the cage in his chest again as you suckled more of his vitae. A hunger arose within him and he was aware that the deed had been done. The primary hurdle was getting you to stop.

“Angel, my love,” he called to you softly, “That’s all I can give you.”

You had heard every word he said; they were crystal clear, but your head remained fuzzy, as if it were wrapped in layers of cotton wool, dampening your thoughts. He could see it in your glazed eyes that you were unable to register what he had requested of you, but he couldn’t bear to tear himself away.

“Please, angel,” he whimpered. “Let go.”

At that point, something in you clicked. Perhaps it was the sight of a broken man, crouched in the middle of his living room, weary from all the bloodshed and the cruel hand fate had dealt him tonight. You wanted to do everything you could to soothe his pain. The same pain that had crept up in his voice the night he put you to bed, and when he had wondered out loud in the park if you could accept him for who he was.

Loosening your grip, you tilted back, allowing him to retract his hand as you ingested the rest of his vitae in your mouth. Nothing could ever come close to the intensity of what you had just felt. Gradually, you came down from the high and your ragged breathing evened out. A numbing weight pressed against your body as your eyes fluttered before closing. Was this it? Was this the end? All you could think of was what a peaceful way it was to die.

A shiver ran down his spine as Leon caressed your cheek, watching you fall back to sleep again. Even his own Embrace hadn’t gone this far. Of course it had been the best thing he had felt in the world, but this, with you? It was on a completely different plane. The memories, the shared sexual intimacy, how—? Did he hallucinate that? He still hadn’t figured it out. It was something for maybe the Tremere, unfortunately, to advise on.

But he had bigger things to worry about now. This was only a temporary respite before you would awake in torment, and he needed to find a way to ease that as quickly as possible, despite being so ill-prepared. It would be the first lesson he’d have to teach you and one of the worst.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A set of steely arms wrapped around you the moment your body jolted upright as you came to. Disoriented and unable to think straight, you struggled to break out of their hold as you heard Leon’s voice in your ear, “Shhh… it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s me.”

You tried to speak but only unintelligible growls escaped your mouth and you continued thrashing about wildly, as a gut-wrenching pain ripped through your flesh and bones. It felt like hundreds of rats were clawing their way out of your stomach as your eyes searched the room rabidly for the offending source that was driving you insane.

And then you saw him. A man in a fancy business suit, unconscious but propped up against the wall. His hands were bound with rope and a nasty bruise swelled at the side of his head. You let out a torturous wail when it finally dawned on you that the very substance you had been lusting after was his blood. It smelled incredible from where you were seated and you were frothing at the mouth like a deranged animal.

What the fuck was going on?! your mind screamed, while you made guttural noises in retaliation. Is this—? Oh god, no! What did he do to me?

There was a persistent throb in your corner teeth, as if they had been plucked out by force and something foreign had been put in its place. You ran your tongue over them, they were elongated and sharp. Just like-

Leon? He pulled you flush against his chest, trapping you in his iron grip, and with a sense of urgency, he spelled out, “Listen to me, you’re not gonna like this, but you need to feed on him.”

Shaking your head violently, your eyes rolled back as if you were possessed by a demonic entity, while you fought with all your might against him and your overzealous hunger. No, no, no, fuck that! I won’t—!

“If you don’t, you will lose control and murder everyone in your path,” he explained.

Noticing how you continued to resist him vehemently, he added, “You won’t have to kill him, I can show you how.”

You whined, scratching at his hands and crying like a hapless pup. There was no need for you to articulate it in words. He understood everything you were going through — the inner turmoil and mental dilemma at your first feed. Except, you had it worse off than him. At least back then, he knew what he was getting himself into and accepted it. You just didn’t have the privilege of time.

Shambling across the floorboards, he brought you closer to the man. “It’s not easy in this state, but you’re strong, and smart. I know you can.” He paused, shifting his grip on you so that he could point out an obscured trail along the man’s neck. “You need to hit one of the arteries or veins for a clean feed. Usually, you’d take it slow and be more careful, but we don’t really have an option tonight.”

Suppressing another painful whine, you tried your utmost to follow his instructions as a beast-like creature went berserk in your chest, bashing it way through your ribcage. Focusing on the area he had identified, you could more or less make out the veins protruding from his skin, like an ultrasound.

“Here, the jugular,” he indicated. “You can start with that, but don’t drain him fully. I’ll help you to stop, just remember to lick it close at the end, okay?”

Nodding, you sobbed out a vague agreement, though your feet were kicking out furiously, itching to be set free. It felt like your mind and body had been separated in two, and neither worked in tandem with each other. The scent of this man’s blood was overpowering, it was making you giddy.

As soon as he let you go, you lurched forward, grabbing the man’s neck roughly as you plunged your teeth into the vein you’d singled out. A viscous, intoxicating liquid enveloped your mouth as you had your fill. Raw energy flowed from one end to another, restoring function to your organs and limbs, as they began to come under your control again. The more you drank, the clearer your mind became, and the Beast within you quietened, satiated from the elixir that seemed to nourish your entire being and soul. Soul? Did you still have one, especially after this?

From a distance you heard your name, accompanied by an appeal to cut it short. Once again, you were thrown into the depths of a battlefield, where each side struggled for dominance as its victor. It felt too good to end it here. Why should you obey? a voice inside you sneered.

A pair of hands gripped your shoulders from behind. Leon’s tone was stern and resolute: “Stop, lick the wound now.”

His command reverberated through your hollow chest, rattling your bones as you submitted to him. Swabbing your tongue over the puncture site, you released your prey as Leon pulled you away. Splotches of bright crimson covered the man’s attire as well as your own. It had been a messy affair.

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.” His voice was tender again, as he turned your face to his. Dragging his fingertip along the spilled blood trickling down your throat, he scooped up the remains and sucked it into his mouth.

By now, he was an expert in cleaning up after his elders, having done his fair share of dirty errands. That’s what neonates like him were good for. At least it would come in handy tonight. The man was still alive, drowsy as hell, but his heart was beating. He had taught you well.

“You did this to me.” The accusation rang like the toll of a bell in his ears, as he watched your expression change into one of pure hatred and disgust.

But before you could continue on with the verbal onslaught you had been saving up for him, a debilitating pain struck, blinding you in the process as you clutched your abdomen and trembled turbulently. What—? When will this ever end?

You were physically dealing with the bitter aftermath of being snatched from the hands of death and flung into rebirth through abnormal means. Anything within you that didn’t need to be there anymore would be cleansed in the next few hours, as your body was dying and disposing of the needless waste. It was not like this in the movies. You wanted to laugh at the outright ridiculousness of it, but all you managed were terrified shrieks.

It was humiliating to be brought down this low in front of him — the man who went from someone you had started to fall for to the last person in the world you wanted to be in the same room with. You hated him for what he had done to you. The fire came back, but this time it was like being burnt at the stake; it was harrowing.

To Leon, you could never degrade yourself in his eyes. He stayed with you the whole time, rubbing reassuring circles on your back as you writhed in agony, dirtying his rug with vomit and piss.

Though she had cared in her own way, Ada never did this for him. He remembered his transformation like it was just yesterday. The serene peach walls of her bathroom, equipped with fluffy towels, aromatic diffusers, and soft music playing in the background, like a spa he couldn’t enjoy. He had been tucked away safely in the bathtub, the door locked on him, as he shivered uncontrollably like a junkie. She couldn’t bear to see him like this — his face covered in snot, stinking up the place with a vacant look in his eyes. It was a mess, but a controlled one.

With you, he wanted it all — the good and the bad. He couldn’t offer you the luxuries that Ada had with him, but he would be there beside you, taking care of you like the sire he desired to be.

━━━━━━━━━━━

There was a sense of déjà vu when you awakened for the second time that night. Or was it morning? You couldn’t be sure anymore. Somehow, you had ended up on a double bed that wasn’t your own and in clothes that you’d never wear — not unless you were a lingerie model on the cover of a magazine spread, or one of those rich housewives looking to spice things up in the bedroom. In your last conscious moments, you thought you had soiled yourself, but now you were squeaky clean. Did Leon—?

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil.

You whipped your head in his direction, and saw him leaning against the banister of the stairs that connected the partially open, mezzanine-like level to the main floor below, which it overlooked. Out of a sense of self-preservation and modesty, you crossed your arms over your chest, hugging yourself tightly.

Stifling a laugh, he smiled at you bashfully like a teenage boy in front of his first crush. “It’s, um, my sire’s.” He gestured towards your outfit. “I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t have anything else.”

Sire? Letting yourself go, you peered down at the fitting lace chemise that clung to your body, still feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze, as you speculated over what he meant.

“It suits you,” he complimented, either oblivious to your bemusement or attempting not broach the subject at this point.

The remark he had made, even if with good intentions, made your blood boil. “Does turning me into a monster suit me?” you spat, getting up from the bed as you strode towards him in fury.

A flicker of remorse flashed across his eyes and his breath hitched. He thought he could stall for time and reconcile with you before having the talk, but he had been blindsided by your astuteness. Despite that, he tried to pacify you. “Angel…”

But you weren’t having any of it. “Shut up!” you hollered, slapping him hard across the face. The blow was harsh enough to send his head snapping to the side, leaving a vivid red handprint marked on his cheek. “I’m not your angel, and never will be!”

He could’ve punished you for your insolence, but chose to suck it up and tolerate it. You were clearly struggling to accept your new circumstances.

“Okay, I deserve that,” he conceded, gingerly rubbing the side of his face where it stung.

You didn’t seem to care though, in fact, you were absolutely livid to the point where you couldn’t speak. Casting him a venomous look of disdain, you drew in labored breaths, your chest rising and falling in rapid, heaving motions.

His watery eyes met yours, and you saw the pain and hurt brimming in them. “You would’ve died back there,” he whispered. “I couldn’t let that happen to you.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you withdrew from him, gripping the edge of the bedpost so intensely that a huge chunk of it broke off. Wait, just how strong were you now?

He glanced over at the damage and winced. Dammit, I liked that bed, he sighed to himself.

“I wish I did,” you muttered, eyeing the piece of metal in your hand skeptically before chucking it to the side. “You could’ve done your job and buried me.”

That was when he lost his cool. “Don’t say that,” he hissed sharply, his gaze smoldering like dying embers, as he marched forward, seizing your wrist to prevent you from backing away. “I just wanted to help—”

“Help?” you questioned testily, challenging him head on with a fierce glare. “You forced me to drink some guy’s blood!”

“You would’ve died,” he reiterated, using the same excuse in a loop as if he never heard you.

“He could’ve died!” you retorted, with the same stupid line of argument that Leon had been falling back on each time.

“Well, he didn’t, and he’s fine!” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration and huffed as he pivoted to one side, before turning back to shoot daggers at you. “A little anemic, but fine!” he expounded for good measure.

There was a slight pause until you fired back, “Go fuck yourself, Leon S. Kennedy,” letting every syllable of his full name roll off your tongue mockingly.

A low growl erupted from his sternum. He wanted to yank you roughly by the hair, throw you onto the bed and teach you a lesson. Jesus Christ, Leon, don’t go there. Get a hold of yourself!

Instead, he bottled up his anger and composed himself. Releasing a deep, slow breath, he evened out his tone, reasoning with you. “Look, like it or not, you need to come to terms with… what you are.”

You hadn’t backtalked him yet; that was a good sign.

“If you want to survive these nights, then I’m the best shot you got.”

Even though you held nothing but contempt towards him in your heart at that very moment, you realized that ultimately, he had a point. And so, you grudgingly raised the white flag. “Fine,” you relented. “But I will never forgive you.”

Another compromise. He could work with that, for now.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #fic: into the ether #porcelainscribbles

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animehouse-moe · 6 months ago

Text

Pride Month Manga Recommendations: Currently Releasing

It's the first day of Pride Month, so why not find some LGBTQ+ manga to read to kick off the start of June? Take a look through this thread of 10 currently releasing manga and light novels to find a new series to pick up, starting with-

The Summer Hikaru Died - Soon To Be an Anime!

Yoshiki and Hikaru were best friends, until Yoshiki notices a change in the boy and comes to find out that he's been replaced by some sort of monster that proclaims his love for Yoshiki.

A fittingly disturbing affair, The Summer Hikaru Died does wonderful work as a horror manga, and expertly intertwines Yoshiki and "Hikaru's" emotions and feelings for one another with the dark and foreboding tone of the series.

Whisper Me A Love Song - A Currently Airing Anime!

Yori Asanagi is a girl better at guitar than love, but what happens when underclassman Himari Kino falls in love with that guitar work? Well, a string of misunderstandings appears that sets in motion this love song of a story.

Whisper Me A Love Song is certainly a bit close to cliché or melodramatic, but with Takeshima Eku's art, it becomes quite the appealing series. Certainly for fans of a more typically-styled love story, Whisper Me A Love Song is a very fun read!

I Married My Female Friend - from the author of Doughnuts Under A Crescent Moon

One day at a festival, Kurumi and Ruriko made a "promise" to each other: in 5 years, if neither found a partner, they would get married. That period elapses, and Ruriko comes racing back to Kurumi with a marriage certificate in hand.

I Married My Female Friend is both a lighthearted yet emotionally aware manga that feels like a spiritual successor to Doughnuts Under a Crescent Moon, skipping the challenges of finding love & heading for the difficulty of being in love.

Seaside Stranger - Also A Major (Animated) Motion Picture

A story of two young men estranged from their parents, Seaside Stranger finds a difficult love blossom on a remote island that begins as confinement for the pair as they work through their challenging feelings and pasts.

Kii Kana's art is really something, and studio Hibari's adaptation is equally beautiful- extracting the most out of this dramatic (and steamy) romance. I might add though that it's not quite for those brand new to BL thanks to explicit content, but it's a great read nonetheless.

Otherside Picnic - Both An Anime And Manga

Sorawo Kamikoshi, a university student, spends her free time exploring a creepy pasta-esque dimension she calls the Otherside where she meets Toriko Nishina as the two narrowly escape the clutches of death, starting their journey.

While it's certainly quite the slow-burn of a romance, Iori Miyazawa's horror-filled world is bursting with passion and discomfort in equal amounts, making for a riveting read with a romance that feels impressively real. There's also an anime.... but it doesn't quite deliver.

Cinderella Closet

Haruka's a "plain jane" who left the countryside to live a bright and fashionable life in Tokyo- which she struggles with before meeting her "fairy godmother" Haruka- a young person with an incredible eye and interest for women's fashion and makeup.

In a sense, Cinderella Closet is a very loud depiction of romance in "the big city", throwing curve balls and both romantic & emotional challenges at every turn. In the end though, it remains a very positive and encouraging story with each turn, making for a great read.

The Contract Between a Specter and a Servant

On the worst- and final- day of Masamichi Adachi's life, he's hit by a car and left to die in the streets at night... until the enigmatic Shino offers him a contract to save his life.

While in the same genre as Otherside Picnic, this light novel certainly leans more into traditional horror as it explores a tense but intriguing relationship between Masamchi and Shino. A unique and engaging (re-released) light novel, it's an easy choice for fans of horror!

I Want To Be A Wall

Though Yuriko and Gakurouta are married, no love blossoms between them, as Yuriko is asexual (and a fan of BL) and Gakurouta stills holds feelings for his oblivious (male) childhood friend close to his heart.

Sporting a wonderfully unique concept, I Want To Be A Wall is a story that more so focuses on the wedded couple's humorous day-to-day lives than anything. A very light and enjoyable series, it's very easy to recommend to just about anyone.

Confessions of a Shy Baker

Toshimitsu Yamamura owns a real estate company and is a baking fanatic- spurred on by the sweet tooth of his boyfriend Gonta. One day however, Toshi gets pushed towards advertising his services as LGBTQ-friendly, forcing him to reconcile with how this move that would help others might out himself as gay.

A manga that delicately balances the societal struggles of being gay with a bright and heartwarming romance centered around baking, Confessions of a Shy Baker is a great jack all of trades manga.

Our Not-So-Lonely Planet Travel Guide

Overly serious Asahi Suzumura and equally laid-back Mitsuki Sayama made each other a promise: together, they'll travel around the world, and when they return to Japan they'll get married.

A beautiful story that throws readers out into the world through destinations and stories, this is a manga that does everything it can within its pages. A forbidden love, a forgotten partner, struggles with laws that forbid love- together they explore this world and each other.

And that's all the recommendations for today, if you have any more you'd like to add feel free to share them here!

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missmungoe · 2 months ago

Note

I Hope it's not too late to send a whole bouquet of roses

🌹🌹🌹

I still have a bunch of these in my inbox from the last WIP meme, and am hoping that posting some snippets might help get me back into the writing groove! I've also been itching to get back into this fic, so from the next chapter of Salt Vows:

Someone was patting her cheek.

Blinking awake found the room doused in buttery light, the parting kiss of a setting sun, its long limbs stretched across the floor towards her where she lay. Her face was pressed into something soft, like a carpet.

Realisation found her by degrees: that she was on the floor, and closely at its heels―that she had no idea where she was.

Before she could unearth an answer from her surroundings, there was another gentle pat to her upturned cheek, before a happy little coo drew her attention to the source, and squinting through the sunlight found a familiar face, soft, round cheeks, and big doe-brown eyes identical to the ones she found in the mirror every morning, creased with a grin she knew still more intimately, although Shanks' was nowhere near as innocent.

Grinning, their son watched her, his cheek pressed into the carpet where he’d scooted close, the tips of their noses nearly touching. A tiny hand patted her cheek as he giggled, as though they were playing a game.

Her own smile swept away some of her disorientation, and, “Hey,” Makino murmured, lifting her hand to thread her fingers through his hair, warmed by the sunlight.

That’s when it hit her―that her baby was supposed to be in Fuschia.

She sat upright so fast it made her head spin, and sucked a hiss through her teeth, the heel of her palm pressed to her brow to dampen the throbbing ache splitting her skull. Had she hit her head?

Her memories were fragmented, jagged pieces that barely fit together. She’d been on Emptee Bluffs, with Cross Guild. There’d been a party; she remembered talking to Buggy and Mihawk, and stealing the keys for Smoker's cell, but then…

Looking up at her surroundings, she stilled.

To say the room was big felt like a pitiful description, taking in the grandest chamber she'd ever seen, a space so vast the ceiling vaulted overhead, the curved arches painted with frescoes, the kind she'd only ever read about. Tall, arched windows lined the walls in front of her from floor to ceiling, although the sunlight pouring through them made it hard to see anything beyond but uninterrupted sky, although there was enough within the chamber to distract her, her wide eyes drinking in the expensive furnishings, velvet-upholstered chairs and large, mahogany bookshelves, and a marble fireplace carved with nymphs and flowers so lifelike, she half-expected one of them to move.

She didn't breathe, captivatd by the sight. This wasn’t Cross Guild’s city of tents, or the brig of a ship, although beyond that, Makino couldn’t begin to guess where she was.

On the floor beside her, Ace was babbling, and looking him over found him as he’d been on the morning of her arrest, not a scratch on him, or any evidence that he’d been harmed, happily distracted by the carpet, the threads dyed a deep, vibrant red, interspersed with a repeating pattern of blue and white, a circular symbol that snagged her attention, although before she could recognise it―

“Have you collected yourself?”

The voice startled her―she’d been so distracted by her surroundings, she hadn’t even realised there was anyone else within the room―and her head snapped around, only to find a man seated on the velvet chaise behind her.

He was older, around Garp’s age or close, his serious features weathered from a long life, although it wasn't work and regret that had lefts its marks on this face, observing the grooves carved between his brows and at the corners of his severe mouth, holding none of the warmth she associated with Garp. Whatever had hewn these features, it wasn't kindness.

They tapered to a narrow chin; he had a long, pointed beard, styled like his hair in a severe, crescent curve that she might have called flashy on anyone else. A pair of tinted, half-moon glasses perched on the hooked tip of his nose, but despite his age, the eyes above were sharp, and shrewd.

Suppressing the shiver that climbed up her spine, gripped by that hard gaze, “Where am I?” Makino rasped, although it took hearing the tremble in her voice to realise what she was feeling.

Fear.

And she already knew she wasn’t in East Blue, or anywhere close, although nothing could have prepared her for the truth as the stranger told her, his deep voice betraying no more than his unyielding features, “Mariejois.”

Her heart stilled.

The gaze holding hers revealed no glee at this revelation, although right then Makino thought she would have preferred it, or anything that resembled a feeling of some kind. Even the Fleet Admiral, for all his contempt of her and everything she represented, had still looked at her like she was human. This man...

He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and searching his face, she was arrested by a sense of familiarity, taking in the stillness in his tall frame, recogniseable as a swordman’s even without the sabre at his waist. But it was the severe downturn of his mouth that tugged at something in her chest, an almost intimate recognition, although the face that appeared in her mind was different, hewn with feeling, and the wide mouth shaping his expressions made for smiling.

The man before her looked like he hadn’t smiled a day in his life, and the shiver in her voice betrayed the first inkling of realisation, as Makino asked him,

“Who are you?”

#Shanks x Makino #opfanfic #One Piece #One Piece Makino #Figarland Garling #mungoe writes #WIP meme

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