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okaywa · 5 years ago

Text

*Kiss Me Sweetly

Tendou x f!reader

Angst with a happy ending, excessive fluff, friends to lovers, smut, dry humping

4.4k words

The demon of Shiratorizawa had crimson hair and eyes to match. He was tall, composed of long limbs and sharp angles. His eyes were perpetually half-lidded and droopy with dark bags. He had a crooked smile made up of pointed teeth and a silver tongue that frequently got him in trouble with the school staff and students alike.

He wasn’t actually a demon, a nickname branded to him by cruel children in elementary school. He wasn’t a monster either, despite popular belief. Although he had learned to embraced his title as the Guess Monster, even learned to love the respect that came with it from his opponents. In the end, however, Tendou Satori was just tired. Tired of the people at this school, tired of the nicknames that stalked him though the halls, and tired of you.

You, who never stooped to your peers level with half-brained insults and nicknames. You, who had smiled and said hello every time you saw him since elementary. You, who encouraged him to pursue volleyball, the only thing he felt powerful doing. You, who sat through his seemingly endless chatter with an interested smile. You, you, you and your kind smiles, soft words, and gentle curves.

It wasn’t until high school that you started sitting with him at lunch. Eventually lunch transitioned into getting coffee every Monday after school. Then the coffee hangouts progressed to going to your house and reading the latest manga he was interested in every Friday.

Each moment with you was a breath held in anticipation for the other shoe to finally drop. When were you just going to get it all over with and stop acting like you cared about him? Enough of the pity, please. No more shared lunches. Stop giving him your notes when he fell asleep in class. He was exhausted for you.

Sometimes he let himself believe you. That you actually cared for him and enjoyed being around him. He convinced himself that your laughter was genuine when he teased you and made sardonic jokes about the world. He could go months relishing in your friendship before remembering it wasn’t real.

Being around him certainly didn’t benefit you. He had heard plenty of the rumors and he know you did as well.

I heard that he’s so controlling she’s too scared to actually leave him.

We aren’t even together, he thought viciously.

Well, I heard that she only puts up with him because she feels bad. Seriously, who actually wants to hang around that freak .

He wanted to scream that he knew. He knew you pitied him. He wanted you to leave but you never got the goddamn hint. You stuck by his side all through high school and now it was the last day and you were still here. Sitting next to him, sharing his earbuds. You could’ve walked home ages ago, but you were adamant about waiting at the train station until he got picked up.

“You can stop now,” he said, setting you free.

“Hm?” You looked up from your phone. “Oh, do you want to play your music?”

“No, you can leave,” he snapped. “No one is looking at you anymore; no one cares. You don’t have to be here with me.”

“Tendu-chan, I don’t understand,” your pretty lips were turned down in a frown.

“I don’t need you,” he lied. “You don’t have to be here to make me feel better. It’s over, we move on now and we forget about it.”

“What are you talking about?” Your voice was soft, confused.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said, finally getting the words off his chest after all these years. “I know you only stuck around because you felt bad for me. But I don’t need it anymore, high school is over. I don’t need you to hang out with me because you feel bad.”

His eyes were closed, and he relished in the peace of finally, finally spitting it out.

“Is that what you think?”

His eyes snapped open. You were angry? You should be happy. Happy you finally have an excuse to get away. A clear exit.

“Fuck you, Tendou,” you stood up, throwing his headphones at his chest. “That’s what you really think of me? That I just pity you? You think I’m so shallow that I hung around you to make myself feel better? Is that what you think?”

You stopped, sucking in a steadying breath while he stared up at you in shock. Yes, that’s exactly what he had thought.

“I-”

“No,” you cut him off swiftly. “You’ve said enough. I’m leaving. You can talk to me when you get your head out of your ass.”

Tendou watched you walk away until you disappeared around a corner. He had been wrong? But he almost always guessed right… right?

Had he really been so consumed by his self-loathing that he had misread the intentions of the one person who cared the most for him?

“Oh,” he let his head fall back against the bench and stared at the bright sky until his eyes watered.

Not many had witnessed it, but the demon of Shiratorizawa was indeed just a person. A person with emotions, as disguised as they may be. He hid behind this personality he’d crafted. The carefree, loud, perpetually cheerful demeanor that protected him from his peers and their wicked words. It had never protected him from you though. You saw through it as if it were glass, just a window to his misery.

“Oh,” he said again, standing up slowly. “I see now.”

He boarded the train and rested his forehead against the window, watching dark storm clouds creep over the city with the silence of a cat stalking its prey.

How fitting, for it to rain, he thought as the first drops splattered against the window.

—-

After three sharp knocks on your door, Tendou stepped back and held his peace offering close to his chest. He knew you were home because your rust bucket of a Toyota was parked in the driveway. His fingers tapped the plastic bag impatiently and it was nearly impossible to ignore the way his heart jumped when the door cracked open slowly.

“Ah, I see you’ve managed to pull your head free. Was it difficult?” You asked flatly, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.

“Immensely, took Wakatoshi three bottles of lube,” he said earnestly.

You cracked a small smile, eyes flitting to the plastic bag in his arms. You raised an eyebrow as a silent question.

“Can I come in?” He asked. “It’s awfully cold out here, you don’t want me to catch a cold now, eh Y/n-chan?”

“Maybe I do,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.

“How cruel of you!” Tendou gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in feigned offense.

He stepped into your entrance way and you were quickly reminded just how tall he was. His lankiness only made him look taller as he loomed over you, eyebrows drawn together in determination. You stared back, suddenly nervous in the presence of your friend.

“I’m sorry for misjudging you,” he said, intense red eyes still locked on yours. “It was wrong and unfair of me to make such harsh assumptions.”

You weren’t used to him being this serious. He was always intense but the two combined were overwhelming.

“Let’s sit down and eat whatever you’ve brought,” you said, stepping around him to walk to the kitchen. “Then we can talk, yeah?”

He followed so close he accidentally kicked your heels a few times and you could still feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your neck. He set the bag on the table and unpacked the to-go containers.

“It’s from that place you really like,” he said. “By the school.”

“Oh, thank you, Tendou.” You accepted the chopsticks he held out.

Tendou gasped dramatically. “Such formalities, Y/n-chan!”

“Tendu-chan, then,” you corrected yourself.

“Much better,” he said praisingly.

He sat down across from you, eating only a few pieces of chicken before setting his utensils aside. He didn’t say anything, even as you ate your fill. It was clear he was antsy, fingers tapping a staccato beat against the table.

When you finally slid your plate to the side he scooted forward, resting his face in his palms expectantly.

“I forgive you,” you said simply.

Tendou’s signature manic grin took over his entire face and his long fingers tapped a rapid beat on the table in his excitement. Oh, how he had missed you during the two weeks he spent giving you space. He had never realized how much he enjoyed your presence until it abruptly disappeared. Tendou’d also had a few other revelations during the separation.

He said your name softly, so at odds with his typically loud demeanor. He was his most authentic self in your presence, he had come to realize. You looked up from packing up the remaining food and tilted your head.

“We are still friends, right?” He asked with a tinge of nervousness.

“Were we ever?” You countered, not angrily.

“Yes,” Tendou answered quickly, reaching out to grab your hand. “Of course, it was my mistake to ever think otherwise.”

You looked down at his hand on yours and ran a finger over the wrappings he kept on his two fingers. He watched you keenly, fingers twitching at your delicate touch.

“My, my,” he said with a sly grin. “What is little Y/n thinking about?”

You shot him a bland look, dropping his hand pointedly. “You’re disgusting.”

Just like that any tension between the two of you vanished with his boisterous laugh. He wiggled his wrapped fingers in your face enticingly until you smacked them away.

“I brought the latest chapter Shonen Jump,” he said animatedly, reaching into his bag. “I thought we could read it together.”

It was a Friday, after all.

“Sure, let me put this food up,” you said.

Tendou grinned eagerly, bouncing to his feet while you brought the food to the fridge; already talking a mile a minute about a different manga he had just finished. You couldn’t stop the smile that worked its way onto your face, you loved his aimless rambling. Where you more reserved, Tendou was outgoing and could fill any gaps in the conversation you left behind. It worked well for the two of you.

While watching Tendou chatter away you wondered if you had been too harsh at the train station. Clearly there was an underlying insecurity that convinced him you didn’t care about him. Was it his history of bullying? Before you had really gotten to know Tendou, it was hard to imagine him as anything but carefree and untouchable. You knew he would tell you eventually. Perhaps today, perhaps tomorrow. Over the past few years you had found the best way to get Tendou to open up was to say nothing at all, his rambling always ended up on touchy topics anyways.

Tendou held out an earbud for you once you sat down on the couch beside him. You placed it in your ear and smiled when you recognized the playlist the two of you had put together. The only time Tendou could stay quiet longer than five minutes was when he was reading. You settled into the familiar routine, sitting close to him while he angled the pages towards you so you could both read. Tendou was such a fast reader you were forced to learn to speed read as well in order to keep up with him. Now, you were perfectly synchronized.

Today, however, he couldn’t stop glancing over at you. Ugh, he suddenly so acutely aware of everything you did. Every time you shifted to see a panel or readjusted the earbud he felt his heart pickup and he was too aware of every movement he made. His limbs felt too long and awkward, his face felt too warm, and oh my god did he brush his teeth this morning?

Tendou swallowed nervously, for once relieved for the chapter to finally end so he could put some space between your bodies. He stood up abruptly, wincing when the earbud was ripped out of his ear.

“Ow,” you held your ear. “Is something wrong, Tendu-chan?”

“Of course not, dearest Y/N,” he put on his widest grin, bowing down and extending his hand. Fuck, your nickname for him was not helping his nerves. “I was just wondering if you would like to accompany me to the bathroom.”

“Ew, what is wrong with you?” You smacked his hand away.

“Well, you did ask,” he chirped cheerfully before prancing down the hall.

You sighed, replacing the earbud while settling into a more comfortable position. After several minutes you realized Tendou had yet to return. Frowning, you stood up and went to the bathroom to find the door still closed.

“Tendu-chan?” You knocked softly. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, Y/N,” Tendou popped his head out from your bedroom. “I was looking at your photo wall.”

You raised your eyebrows, following him inside. “Yeah? I have quite a few.”

It had been a hobby of yours to have at least three pictures of each of yours friends on your wall since elementary school. Since you started hanging out with Tendou at the beginning of high school, his section had amassed a great deal of photos.

“I forget you’ve never been in here,” you smiled, watching Tendou closely.

You had never seen such an open expression on his face before. His eyes flicked over the photos of him taped to your wall quickly, as if he couldn’t decide which to focus on.

“I didn’t realize,” he said softly.

“Hm?”

He tilted his head back, sliding his eyes to look at you. “I didn’t realize I still had a safe place, a paradise.”

“You’ll always be welcome here, Satori,” you reached out and squeezed his bicep. “I promise.”

“I feel so blind, Y/N,” he closed his eyes, head still tipped back as he took in a slow, study breath. “I thought I had lost everything when volleyball ended. My friends, my passion…”

Crimson eyes locked on your own, the intensity of them so startling you sucked in a sharp breath.

“But I still have you,” Tendou said, slowly turning his body to face yours. “Right?”

“Of course,” you answered.

“Good,” he nodded. “Good.”

His head turned back towards your wall of photos, fingers reaching out to snag at the bottom of one. You looked closer and saw it was a picture of the two of you at one of his games. You had jumped onto his back to hug him and your friend had barely managed to get the shot. The blurry grins on your faces were bright and excited.

“Can I?” He asked, tugging lightly on the corner.

“Take it, I can print a new one.” You said.

He peeled it off carefully and flashed a grin at you.

“Thank you,” he reached out, placing his hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair messily.

You knocked his hand away and brushed your hair back into place with a huff. Tendou laughed loudly, sprawling backwards onto your bed with a thump. He looked at the picture once more before sliding it into his pocket. He folded his hands behind his head and looked up at you with his signature sleepy smirk.

“Make yourself comfortable, I guess,” you said.

“Aw, you’re so considerate,” Tendou crooned, stretching his arms out until his shirt road up to reveal his toned stomach.

You glanced down at the exposed skin and blushed, looking away quickly. Tendou noticed, of course, and couldn’t stop the mischievous smirk on his face as he reached out and grabbed your hand.

“Tendou-“

“Oh, hush,” he chastised lightly. “I’m just getting you to sit. This is your bed, after all.”

You sat down on the edge, watching as he pulled your hand to his chest. He examined your fingers faintly before weaving his fingers with yours. When your fingers spasmed nervously he gripped them tighter.

“I had a lot of time to think,” he sighed, eyes still fixated on your joined hands, before elaborating. “While we were apart.”

You stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue with bated breath.

“I like you, Y/N,” his eyes seemed to bore straight into your soul.

“Tendu-chan-“ You started to pull your fingers away.

One second you were sitting at the edge of the bed and the next you were pinned beneath Tendou’s body. His breath tickled your lips and his hands kept your arms above your head by the wrists.

“Please, let me say this,” he pleaded, eyes switching between yours and your lips.

“You made high school bearable for me,” he said, pushing up until he was knelt between your legs instead of having you pinned. His hands rested on either side of your ribs. “I didn’t appreciate you enough at the time but-“

His fingers clenched in the sheets. “I do now, I appreciate you so much. Everyone else thought I was a monster, demon, whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore but when it did you were the only one who made it all easier. Does that make sense?”

“What about Ushijima? Your teammates?”

Tendou chuckled, letting his head droop between his shoulders. “Of course them, silly Y/N. They didn’t really have a choice, hm? I was on the team, you don’t really get to pick who’s there. You went out of your way to befriend me, to make sure I was okay before you even knew me.”

You looked up at him, ignoring his little sniffle and the way he rubbed his nose against his sleeve subtly. You sat up slowly while Tendou watched you closely with his head tilted.

“You’re my best friend, you know that right?” You asked softly.

He nodded.

“You will always be welcome in my home and I promise I will always want you around. You’re right, whatever those people used to say about you doesn’t matter. They were needlessly cruel and I wish I could’ve stopped them from hurting you,” you reached up, cupping his cheek gently. “You’re important, Tendu-chan. You’re caring, funny, and genuine. I love hearing about your favorite anime and your coolest blocks. I really do.”

“Ohhh, is little Y/N crying for me?” He cooed, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears gathering on your lashes. “Sweet thing.”

“I’m serious,” you said, letting him wipe your cheeks.

“I know,” he squinted at you. “Will you let me try something?”

From the way his crimson eyes kept flickering down to your lips, you could easily guess what he wanted to try. You nodded mutely, breath catching excitedly as his face drew closer.

The first touch of his lips felt like a static shock. Your eyes fluttered close as he pushed a little closer, experimentally moving his lips against yours. He let out a low groan into your mouth, pushing forward until you were laying down again. The hands that had been by your sides now moved to tangle in your hair and cup your face while his hips settled comfortably between your thighs.

The first brush of his tongue across your bottom lip sent fire licking up your spine which eventually settled as a fluttering warmth in your stomach. Your hands came up to grab his arms, nails leaving shallow crescents on the pale skin of his biceps through his shirt. Parting with a nip to your bottom lip, Tendou licked his lips as he looked down at you.

The sight of your flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips sent a thrill of exhilaration through his chest.

“Well?” He asked, a cocky grin smeared across his lips.

It was like you were seeing Tendou in a brand new light. Before he was just your friend. You always knew he was good-looking but now, you were supremely aware of his shapely lips, cut jaw, and broad shoulders. His hips between yours was as intoxicating as the elated look on his face.

“Stop looking so smug,” you huffed, pulling him down to your lips again.

Laughing softly, Tendou happily obliged you in another sensuous kiss that left you dizzy and breathless. He swallowed your gasp when he experimentally rolled his hips into yours.

He pulled back, eyes lidded with a dazed smile, and tilted his head. “Is that okay?”

You nodded eagerly, leaning up to capture him in another kiss. With a sly smirk he pulled out of your reach, head tilted expectantly.

“Yes, Tendou, now please get back to it,” you snapped, secretly appreciative of his need for clear consent.

“There we go,” he murmured, stooping back down with a thorough roll of his hips.

A groan was shared between both of your open mouths as his hips fell into a steady rhythm, slowly undulating against you. Sighing out his name, you let your head fall back while Tendou trailed kisses across your jaw and down to your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so perfect,” he murmured breathlessly, leaving wet, open-mouth kisses down the column of your throat. “Feel so good, hah-“

His clothed erection lined up perfectly with your core, sending searing electricity flickering through your stomach. Your hands went from gripping his arms to tangling in his hair, tugging lightly at the crimson strands.

“Haah-ah,” you moaned at a particularly accurate thrust that had his entire length dragging along your clit. “Satori, please.”

“Oh, fuck,” Tendou sighed into your ear, pushing aside your hair so he could hide his face in the warmth of your neck. “You’re so hot, gonna make me cum in my pants. Keep making those pretty noises for me, sweet thing.”

You nodded along eagerly, pulling his head away from your neck so your could attach your lips again. Steady thrusts began to lose their rhythm as both of you got closer to completion. Tendou let out a throaty groan, wrapping his lean arms around you tightly so he could rub his hard-on against your core with more force.

“Satori, ah!” You cried out at the stimulation.

He clashed his mouth against yours messily, teeth clicking while he gasped against your lips.

“M’ close,” he clenched his eyes shut.

“Me too, me too,” you whined, hips writhing up against his desperately. “Satori!” Tendou practically growled at that, mouth claiming yours assertively. You shouted his name again while your orgasm wracked through your body, leaving you sensitive and tingly as Tendou chased his own release. He came with a low moan into your mouth, hips rolling gently through the aftershocks.

When he finally slowed to a stop he went completely slack on top you. Tendou mouthed gently at your neck, fingers petting your hair as you both caught your breath. You released his hair and unclenched your stiff fingers a few times before wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Curious hands slowly pushed beneath your shirt, tenderly exploring your body while Tendou continued to leave lazy, open-mouthed kisses on your neck. His handsiness didn’t bother you since you were also busy tracing the muscles of his back.

You whined when he landed another quick kiss before pushing off of you.

“I gotta clean up,” he said, darting down to kiss you again.

That reminded you of the uncomfortable dampness in your own pants so you got up as well. You found a pair of sweatpants that he could fit into from your brother and set them by the bathroom door for him. By the time you came back from changing he was already lounging in your bed again, your brother’s sweatpants an inch or two too short above his ankles.

Tendou’s expression brightened when you walked in, his eyes wide to match his grin as you climbed in to lay next to him. He was quick to wrap his arms around you again.

“Well?” He asked.

“Hmm?” You responded, face pressed against his shoulder.

“What are we now?” He leaned back so he could see your face.

You stretched languidly, tossing a leg over his hips and an arm over his chest before responding.

“What do you want this to be?”

“I want you to be mine,” he answered honestly.

“Then I’m yours,” you said simply, kissing the hinge of his jaw.

“My girlfriend,” he said adoringly, twisting to his side so you were facing each other.

You laughed softly, letting him cup your cheeks so he could pull you into an unhurried kiss. His tongue pressed past your lips to sweep along your teeth and slide hotly against yours.

“I’m pretty great at apologies, huh?” He boasted.

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned, pushing him away by his forehead.

Tendou let you shove his face away with a quiet giggle before brushing your hand away so he could attack your neck with more kisses.

“You better not be leaving marks,” you threatened halfheartedly, too caught up in the addicting sensation of his lips on your body to be serious.

Tendou eyed a particularly red spot, pressing a light kiss to it. “Of course not, baby.”

“That didn’t sound too convincing.”

“Well… it might fade,” Tendou circled the spot with his finger. “I kinda like it.”

“Satori!”

“Whaaat?” He crooned. “It lets everyone know you’re mine.”

“Ugh, you creep,” you murmured, accepting a soft kiss.

Tendou giggled cheerfully, squeezing you closer to him affectionately. He left a flurry of kisses across your cheeks and nose, sighing happily.

“I love this,” his hands roved over your body. “Getting to touch and kiss you as much as I want.”

“Mm, me too.”

Tendou’s lean body was beautiful, so was his blush when you informed him of this. He groaned and hid his face in the crook your neck.

“I’m serious!” You insisted, pulling his face from your neck so you could look at him.

“I know you are, thank you,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.

“Aww, are you embarrassed?”

Tendou scoffed. “Tch, of course not. I’m a catch, a total babe.”

Laughing, you let him bite playfully at the hinge of your jaw for a moment before shoving him away so he couldn’t leave another mark. Tendou settled down and was happy to let you brush your fingers through his hair until it lost it’s shape and started to fall over his forehead.

“Mmm, sleepy,” he sighed, practically purring as you massaged his scalp.

“Go to sleep then.”

He hummed, twisting his body until he was on his stomach with half of his body draped over yours. You smiled warmly, of course Tendou was a clingy sleeper.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu writing #tendou satori #tendou x reader #haikyuu smut #tendou smut #tendou x you #friends to lovers #haikyuu angst #tendou headcanon #tendou fluff #tendou imagine #Shiratorizawa #happy ending #masterlist #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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raggaraddy · 3 years ago

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hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you.

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."

#bts #yandere #jung hoseok #j hope bts #yandere hoseok #yandere hobi #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts scenarios #bts fan fiction #bts requests #bts reactions #vampire! jhope #vampire! bts #bangtan reaction #bangtan fanfic

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translations-by-aiimee · 4 years ago

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 7

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - This Venerable One Likes Wontons

The scorching sun was blazing.

The veranda of Life-Death Peak stretched for mile.

As a rising star among immortal cultivators, it was quite different from the other famous clans of the immortal world.

Take the most prosperous Rufeng Sect of Linyi. The main hall of the sect was called the "Six Virtues Hall", which intended to encourage disciples to be "wise, faithful, holy, righteous, benevolent, and loyal" in accordance with the six virtues. The area where the disciples live was called the "Six Behaviours Gate", which warns the disciples to practice "filial piety, friendship, harmony, marriage, responsibility, and compassion." The place where classes were taught was called "Six Arts Platform", which meant that disciples needed to be proficient in the six skills of "ritual, music, archery, riding, calligraphy, and mathematics".

All in all, its elegance was endless.

On the other hand, Life-Death Peak came from a poor background. Its names were hard to explain. "Danxin Hall" and "Platform of Righteousness and Evil" were alright. Perhaps it was because Mo Ran's father and his uncle weren't scholars and couldn't determine any better names. After a while, the names started to get more nonsensical, naming things "Xue Ya" -sounding names left and right.

Therefore, there are many plagiarised names from the underworld on Life-Death Peak. For example, the room where disciples practiced self-reflection was called Yanluo Hall.

The jade bridge connecting the resting area and the teaching area was called Naihe Bridge. The dining hall was called Mengpo Hall, the martial arts field was called Mountain of Daggers and Sea of Flames. The forbidden area of the back of the mountain is called the Ghost Room, and so on.

These weren't too bad, but there were other places simply called "This is a mountain", "This is water", "This is a pit", as well as the famous "Ahhhhh" and "Wahhhhhh" cliffs.

The elders’ dormitories naturally did not escape, and each has their own nickname.

Chu Wanning was naturally no exception. He liked peace and didn't want to live near others. His residence was built on the South Peak of Life-Death Peak, hidden in a sea of bamboo. There was a pool in front of the main hall, and the pool was red from lotus petals blocking the sunlight from reflecting off it. Because of its abundance of spiritual power, the lotus flowers were in full bloom all year round in the pool, like red clouds.

The disciples secretly called this beautiful place--

Red Lotus Hell.

When Mo Ran thought of this, he couldn't help but laugh.

Chu Wanning wore a terrifying face every single day, and the disciples who saw him thought he was the devil himself. Therefore, shouldn't the place where the devil stays be called hell?

Xue Meng interrupted his daydream: "You laugh even though you were scolded! Hurry up and eat breakfast. After eating, follow me to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil. Shizun will punish you in public today!"

Mo Ran sighed, and touched the whip mark on his face: "Hss. . . ow."

"You deserved it!"

"Hah, I wonder if Tianwen has been repaired. I hope he doesn't try it out on me again before it's fixed. Who knows what nonsense I might say."

In the face of Mo Ran's sincere concerns, Xue Meng's face flushed, and he angrily said: "If you dare to speak out indecently in public against Shizun, I'll rip your tongue out!"

Mo Ran covered his face and waved his hand faintly: "No need, no need, if Shizun ties me with willow vine again, I will end myself on the spot to prove my innocence."

When the hour came, Mo Ran was brought to the Platform of Righteousness and Evil according to customs. He looked around, and there was a deep blue sea of people below. The disciples of Life-Death Peak all wore the sect uniform; blue so dark it was almost black armour, the lion's head belt, wrist guards and the silver threads gleaming on the hems of robes.

The rising sun, below the Platform of Righteousness and Evil, the sea of armour shone.

Mo Ran kneeled on the raised platform, listening to a chief elder list off a long list of the crimes he'd committed.

"Mo Weiyu, disciple of Elder Yuheng, arrogantly disregarded teachings, disobeyed the rules of the sect, and abandoned morality. You have violated the fourth, ninth, and fifteenth mandates of this sect. As punishment, you will receive 80 strikes, copy the sect rules a hundred times and reflect in solitude for a full month. Mo Weiyu, is there anything you have to say in your defense?"

Mo Ran glanced at the white figure in the distance.

That elder was the only member of Life-Death Peak who wasn't required to wear the standard blue and silver rim robe.

Chu Wanning's robe was made of snow-white satin, an outer robe made of cloud-patterned silver silk, like he was dressed in a heavenly frost, but the person wearing it seemed far more frigid than either snow or frost. He sat quietly, far enough away that Mo Ran couldn't see the expression on his face, but he knew that this person was probably completely unphased.

Mo Ran let out a deep sigh: "I have nothing to argue."

According to customary practice, the chief elder asked the disciples below: "If anyone is dissatisfied with the verdict, or has something else to say, this is the time to make such a statement."

All the disciples began to hesitate and averted their gaze.

None of them expected that the Yuheng Elder Chu Wanning would actually send his disciple to be punished publicly on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil.

To put it nicely, this person was impartial, but to word it differently, was also called a cold-blooded demon.

The cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning faintly propped his chin and sat in the position. Suddenly someone shouted with amplifying technique: "Elder Yuheng, this disciple is willing to plead for leniency on behalf of Young Master Mo."

". . . Plead?"

This disciple obviously felt that since Mo Ran was the nephew of Life-Death Peak's lord, even if he had screwed up this time, his future prospects would still be bright, so he decided to take the opportunity to win Mo Ran's favour. He began to talk nonsense: "Although Junior Brother Mo is at fault, he loves his fellow students and helps the weak. Please treat consider being lenient for the sake of his kind nature!"

Obviously, he was not the only one hoping to please Junior Brother Mo.

Gradually, more and more people spoke up for Mo Ran. They threw out all sorts of arguments, it made even Mo Ran embarrassed to hear; when had he ever had "an innocent heart, pure and open-minded"? This was a disciplinary meeting, not a commendation meeting, right?

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me exterminate demons and killed deadly beasts. I would like to beg on Junior Brother Mo's behalf. His merits will offset his demerits, and I hope that Elder will lighten his punishment!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dispel my demons when I experience qi deviation. I believe Junior Brother Mo made a mistake this time and was only momentarily confused. I also ask Elder to please be lenient on Junior Brother!"

"Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once gave me an elixir to save my mother. He is a benevolent person. Please, Elder, punish him lightly!"

The last person’s remarks were based on the previous disciples', and he was at a loss for words. Seeing Chu Wanning's frozen eyes sweep over, the anxious disciple didn't hesitate to say: “Elder Yuheng, Junior Brother Mo once helped me dual cultivate--”

"Pff." Someone couldn't help laughing.

The disciple immediately blushed and retreated.

"Yuheng, calm your anger, calm your anger..." Seeing that the chief elder was not happy, he went to his side and hurriedly persuaded him.

Chu Wanning said coldly: "I have never seen such a shameless person. What is his name? Whose disciple?"

The chief elder hesitated a little, then bit the bullet and said softly, "My disciple, Yao Lian."

Chu Wanning raised his eyebrows: "Your disciple? Save face*?"

(Pronounced the same as Yao Lian's name)

The chief elder couldn't help but feel embarrassed, and his old face tried to change the subject with a red face: "He's talented at singing, and he can be useful when he receives the offerings."

Chu Wanning scoffed and turned away, not wanting to waste time talking nonsense with this shameless chief elder.

There were thousands of people on Life-Death Peak. A couple flatterers were nothing surprising.

Seeing the conviction in the faces of his sect brothers, Mo Ran himself almost trusted their words. Very impressive indeed. It turns out he wasn't the only person in this sect that knew how to concoct wild stories in broad daylight. There were many talented people here.

Chu Wanning, who had heard "Elder Yuheng, please be merciful" countless times, finally spoke to the disciples.

"Pleading for Mo Weiyu?" He paused and said, "Yes, all of you may come up."

Those people didn't know what would happen and went up tremblingly.

A golden light flashed in Chu Wanning's palm. Tianwen appeared as commanded, and wrapped around the dozens of people together with a whistle, and tied them firmly in place.

Not again!!

Mo Ran was beginning to get desperate. Just the sight of Tianwen made his legs weak. He really didn’t know where Chu Wanning got such a perverted weapon. It was a good thing he had never taken a wife in his previous life. The poor girl who would marry him, if she didn't get whipped to death, she would be questioned to death.

Chu Wanning's eyes were quite mocking. He asked one of them: "Mo Ran helped you ward off evil spirits?"

How could the disciple resist the torture of TIanwen? He immediately howled: "No! No!"

He asked another one: "Mo Ran helped you overcome your qi deviation?"

"Ah! Never! Never!"

"Mo Ran gave you an elixir?"

"Ah—! Help! No, no! I made it up! I made it up!"

Chu Wanning loosened the hold, but then raised his hand and waved the weapon fiercely, it crackling and blazing, Tianwen suddenly lashed out and hit the backs of the lying disciples.

There were screams instantly, blood splashing.

Chu Wanning's eyebrows furrowed, and he scolded: "What are you calling? Kneel down! Disciple attendant!"

"Here."

"Deliver the punishment!"

"Understood!"

As a result, instead of reaping the benefits of defending Mo Ran, each of them was beaten with ten strikes each for violating the mandate of deception, plus a bonus willow vine lash gifted by Elder Yuheng.

After nightfall, Mo Ran lay on his bed. Although he had been given medicine, his back was covered with staggered scars. He couldn't even turn himself over without almost crying from the pain. He sniffled.

He had been born, so whimpering like this made him look like a fluffy, abandoned kitten. But it was a pity that his thoughts didn't match that cute kitten image.

He gripped the bedding and bit into the sheets, imagining that this was that bastard Chu Wanning. He bit! Kicked! Stomped! Tore!

The only comfort is that Shi Mei came to visit him with a bowl of wontons. He stared at him with those gentle and pitiful eyes, and Mo Ran's tears fell even more fiercely.

He didn't care whether men were supposed to hold in their tears or not, he loved to act spoiled in front of the person he liked.

"Does it still hurt a lot? Can you sit up?" Shi Mei sat on the edge of his bed and sighed. "Shizun, he. . . he was too cruel. Look at your back. . . there are several wounds. Some are still bleeding."

Mo Ran's heart softened, a warmth gradually rose in his chest. His teary eyes lifted from the bedding and he blinked.

"Since Shi Mei cares about me so much, I, I'm not in too much pain anymore."

"Oh, how can it not hurt if you look like this? You know what Shizun's temperament is like, will you dare do something like this in the future?"

In the candlelight, Shi Mei looked at him a little helplessly and a little distressedly. The amorous eyes were gleaming, like warm spring water.

Mo Ran's heart moved slightly, and he cleverly said: "Never again. I swear.

"Does anyone believe your promises anymore?" Even though he said that, Shi Mei also smiled, "The wontons are getting cold, can you sit up? If you can't get up, just lie on your stomach and I will feed you."

Mo Ran had already climbed up halfway, but immediately collapsed back down when he heard this.

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Whether it was this life or his previous one, Mo Ran's favourite food was Shi Mei's handmade wontons. The dough was as thin as a cloud of smoke, and the filling was tender and moist, melting in his mouth after every bite.

Especially the soup, the milky consistency, sprinkled with green onions, tender yellow egg wisps, and topped with a spoonful of spicy chilli peppers fried with garlic. It made whoever ate it feel so warm that they would never be cold again.

Shi Mei carefully spoonfed him. While feeding him, he said: "I didn't put any chilli oil today. You're badly hurt. Spice isn't good for recovery. Just drink the broth instead."

Mo Ran stared at him and he couldn't look away. He smiled: "Spicy or not, as long as you made it, it's delicious."

"Smooth talker." Shi Mei also smiled, picking up a poached egg lying in the soup, "Here's your reward, I know you like them."

Mo Ran laughed, a small tuft of hair curling on his forehead, like a flower blooming: "Shi Mei."

"What's happening?"

"Nothing, I just felt like saying your name."

". . ."

The hair tuft swayed back and forth.

"Shi Mei."

Shi Mei held back a smile: "Just felt like it again?"

"Hmm, just saying your name makes me happy."

Shi Mei sat silently for a moment then gently touched his forehead: "Silly boy, do you have a fever?"

Mo Ran let out a laugh. He rolled over, looking at him sideways, his eyes bright, as if full of fine stars.

"It would be a dream if I could eat Shi Mei's wontons every day"

He truly meant it.

After Shi Mei died, Mo Ran had always wanted to try the wontons he made again, but it is what it is, and he wasn't coming back.

At that time, Chu Wanning hadn't completely broken off all relations with him. Whether it was out of guilt or something else, he didn't know, but when he saw Mo Ran knelt in front of Shi Mei's coffin in a daze, Chu Wanning went quietly to the kitchen, kneaded dough and minced the fillings, carefully folded a couple wontons. But Mo Ran saw what he was doing before he had finished. With the loss of the love of his life, Mo Ran just couldn't bear it. He felt like Chu Wanning was doing it to mock him, a botched attempt at imitating them, a deliberate insult to injury.

Shi Mei was dead. Chu Wanning could have saved him, but he refused to help. Afterwards, he wanted to replace Shi Mei and make wontons for Mo Ran instead? Did he think that this would make him happy?

He rushed into the kitchen and knocked over all the utensils. The round wontons fell out of his hands and all over the floor.

He screamed at Chu Wanning: "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you're worthy of replacing him? Of making the food he used to? Shi Mei is dead, are you satisfied? Or do you have to torture your disciples until they go mad or die before you're happy? Chu Wanning! No one in this world can make those wontons anymore. You can try but you'll never be him!"

Now he was eating this bowl with such deep joy. He slowly ate them, savouring them. Although he was still smiling, his eyes were a little moist. Fortunately, the candlelight was dim, and Shi Mei couldn't see his subtle expression clearly.

Mo Ran said: "Shi Mei."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Shi Mei froze for a moment, and then smiled gently: "Isn't it just a bowl of wontons? No need to be so formal about it. If you like them, I will always make them for you in the future."

Mo Ran wanted to say, the thanks wasn't just for the wontons.

Thank you also, whether in the last life or in this life, for being the only one to look out for me, not caring about my origins, didn't care about the fourteen years I spent scavenging around.

Thank you, because if it weren't for the sudden thought of you, after being reborn, I'm afraid I would not be able to stop myself from killing Rong Jiu. I would've made a big mistake, and walked the same path I had before.

Fortunately, in this life, I was reborn before you die. I will definitely take good care of you. If you are sick, and that cold-blooded demon Chu Wanning is unwilling to save you, I will.

But how could he have said these words aloud?

In the end, Mo Ran just drank the soup, leaving not even a single green onion behind. He licked his lips unconsciously, his dimples prominent, and he was as cute as a very fluffy little cat.

"Will there be more tomorrow?"

Shi Mei couldn't help but shake his head: "You don't want something else? Won't you get sick of them?"

"I'll never get tired of your wontons, as long as you don't get tired of making them."

Shi Mei shook his head and smiled: "I don't know if there's enough flour left. If there's not enough, I'm afraid I can't make it. If I can't, do you think the eggs in sweet soup are alright instead? They are also one of your favourites."

"Okay, okay. As long as you make it, anything is okay."

Mo Ran's heart surged. He was so happy he could roll around in the blankets.

Look at caring Shi Mei is, Chu Wanning, you go screw yourself! I get to lie in bed with a beauty taking care of me, hehe!

Thinking of Shizun, a rush of anger mixed with the tenderness he had been feeling.

Mo Ran started to dig the bottom of the headboard with resentment again. He cursed, what Yuheng of the Night Sky, what the Beidou Immortal, it's all fucking bullshit!

Chu Wanning, just wait and see!!

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the husky and his white cat shizun #english translation #chinese novel #chinese bl #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei #mo ran #chu wanning #2ha #2ha translation #ranwan #hyx

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songbirdsingingthings · 4 years ago

Text

Pocket Watch - Levi Ackerman x Reader

A/N: I forgot to mention this! You are Erwin’s sister in this, but that doesn’t have to mean you are his biological sister! Feel free to interpret this fic in any way that you would like <3

WARNINGS: Angst, swearing, S3 spoilers, ends in fluff

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5K

It was dark outside, and it was pouring rain too. Even through the thick layer of glass that served as a window, you could hear the wind whipping with the storm and smattering the raindrops against the buildings. On the inside, where you were currently, was quite the contrast though. There was not a sound to be heard inside your quarters. The fire that once crackled in the brick laid fireplace had long since burned out and you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch - your eyes still trained on the charred wood that once harbored a flame. You hadn’t bothered to check the little pocket watch that had been shoved into your pocket earlier that day - you were quite sure that it would tell you it was far past your bedtime, but you just couldn’t bear to see the familiar golden thing.

First it was your father’s, but then he was killed, so it was passed onto your older brother. Erwin. He held it and kept it close to him with pride every day since then, making note to polish it on a regular basis so that its glint always shone strongly. Now it was covered in his blood. It was probably dry now, possibly even caked to the little clasp so that it couldn’t open properly anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash it off. You refused to even touch it. That moment when you saw the new cadet, you think his name was Floch, bring him upon that disheveled roof caused you to go silent. Your movements ceased as you watched your brother take labored breaths… dying. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the young members of the 104th division, Mikasa Ackerman and Eren Yeager, take a sharp inhale as they held their own dying friend. It was clear to anyone, that when the man holding the syringe that would grant life paused, an internal battle started to wage war in his mind. You don’t remember much - it was as if you were in a comatose state. All you know was that Erwin, your now dying big brother, reached into his breast pocket with what strength he had left, and shoved his little watch into your own. After that… a blur.

A quiet knock sounded on that measly wooden door that separated your office and adjoining bedroom from the rest of the building. You remain quiet. If they truly needed something, and were composed enough to talk to the girl who’s older brother just died, then they would come in without asking questions anyways. And that they did. The door creaked a bit and more light filtered into your office space through the opening, but went away just as quickly as it was closed. Footsteps made their way over to you and the person’s shadow was soon cast over you.

“Have you moved at all?” The voice was smooth and sullen. They knew the answer to the question as soon as they asked, you figured, but nonetheless it was spoken. As much as you thought you could answer, no words were able to be formed, much less a simple squeak. You simply opted to shake your head. With a sigh, they sat down next to you.“Have you eaten?” Another shake of the head. “Bathed?” You began to feel that your head would be moving like this forever if they kept asking you these questions. There was a beat of silence that passed through the two of you before they cupped your chin with their hand, rather roughly you might add, and wrenched your head so that it was looking at theirs. As soon as your Y/E/C eyes met his silver irises, you felt your body begin to thaw a little. Levi.

“My pocket,” you murmur, earning a confused expression from him.

“What about your pocket,” he says simply, his voice as gruff as ever. You come to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to bend to your wants, so you shakily reach your hand and grab Erwin’s pocket watch and drop it into Levi’s hands. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t recoil as the blood-caked watch meets his skin. Instead, he looks at it and then back up to you.

“Please take it.” Levi is quick to refuse.

“No. It’s yours, he gave it to you.”

“He would hate for it to be dirty, and we both know that you have a knack for cleanliness,” you quip, no humor present in your eyes. Levi huffs and takes out a little handkerchief and begins to gently rub away the dried blood.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. You stay still but your eyes go back to the charred log of wood.

“Levi,” you start but he is quick to interrupt.

“Y/N, I’m the one who killed him and now you’re giving me his prized possession. That makes me feel like an asshole.” He says, scowling to himself. As blunt as his words were, you knew he was hurting. Hurting like he was when his old friends were killed.

“You’re an asshole but not for what happened.” You say. “I… I don’t remember what he said.” You feel your eyes begin to well with tears. Why couldn’t you have cracked in private? Why did he have to be here?

“You mean before he…” Levi started, earning a nod from you. He didn’t know what Erwin had said either, letting silence grace the room.

“What happens when I forget?” You confess shakily, finally letting your eyes meet his again. Levi stops his movements and lets the pocket watch rest on the handkerchief, carefully placing it on the low coffee table in front of the two of you. “What happens when I forget what his face looked like, or what his voice used to sound like.” The tears finally broke from their prison and began to rush down your cheeks. Wordlessly, Levi brought you into his arms. Your cries became vocal now as you let everything out. No longer were you just the shell of yourself - no, you were now revealing it all to Levi. Your head fell onto his strong shoulder as your hands grasped onto his shirt, sobbing.

He could hear his heart break. Of course he was absolutely devastated at seeing Erwin, one of his closest confidants and last remaining friends meet his end, but to see you like this was a strike to his soul. You were like sunshine on a rainy day, as cliche as that might sound - always there to brighten his spirits on gruelling days when he was annoyed with everyone else. Now it seemed like you were one of those gray clouds up in the sky, void of the cheer you used to possess. He held you tighter and laid his chin on the top of your head. Levi felt his shoulder begin to grow damp but he didn’t care. Nor did he mind the fact that your dirt and mud stained hands were grabbing onto his pristine and newly laundered white shirt, surely making it dirty once more. Your cries began to die down a bit, now just shaky whimpers escaping your mouth. He presses a soft kiss onto your hair and moves his hands so that they’re cradling you.

“I’m gonna lift you up, ‘kay?” He mumbles. He feels your nods against his chest and stands, walking you over to your bedroom. You’re just sniffling now as he sets you down on your bed and starts to rummage through your clothing drawer, throwing you a new set of sleepwear along with a pair of clean panties. Much to your better judgement and current state of grief, you bark out a laugh. Levi turns around slowly, his eyes narrowed, thinking you’ve gone mad now. You raise your hands up in defense and shake your head, a small smile crossing your face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… he would be fucking furious if he knew you were touching my panties.” You couldn’t help it now, you were snickering as you grabbed the fresh set of clothes. He gives you a deadpanned look, sighs, and walks out of your room.

“Just change, you brat.” He says, clearly tired. You slowly peel your uniform off of your body and let it pool on the floor. Stepping into the clean clothes slowly, you exhale and slump onto the bed and close your eyes.

“Okay,” you call softly. You see Levi step back in and make his way over to the side of your bed. He looks down at you, an unknown emotion swimming in his eyes.

“When the nightmares start, just knock. Doesn’t matter what time.” He says simply.

“How do you know they’ll start?” You inquire.

“They always do.” He murmurs, closing his eyes for a second. An unspoken agreement becomes solidified between the two of you as you hold his gaze. He gives you a nod before he leans down and gives you a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And what about this?” You ask, motioning between the two of you. Levi’s face remains neutral as he steps away.

“A conversation for another day.” You see his figure walk out of your room and into the office space.

“You keep that safe,” you say, regarding the pocket watch, “and clean.”

“Go to sleep, brat.” Levi calls back.

Just like Levi had predicted the nightmares did come, and didn’t stop for weeks on end. Both you and him had them about Erwin, and both you and him knocked on each other's doors when they came. But, whenever it happened, Levi pulled out the pocket watch so that you and him could listen to the faint ticking, letting you know that he would be with you, always. Although, he might not be as fond to know that you were all wrapped up in the captain’s arms.

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beewolfwrites · 3 years ago

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An Iron Box - The Answer

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @hiqhkey @serenzippity

That rooftop scene is growing closer, and so is my excitement :D

I’ve noticed a few new readers, and I just wanted to add a heads up that you can find the Tumblr post links and the AO3 links to each of the three fics at the top of my Tumblr, if that helps at all!

Here’s the AO3 link to this chapter too.

I hope you like it! <3

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

‘Chishiya, I’d hate to be your enemy.’

When Arisu had spoken those words right as he punched in the code, he’d already made his fatal mistake.

You are all my enemies, in a way.

I stood back, watching as Arisu’s bloodied and unconscious body was slung over a militant’s shoulder and carried out of the royal suite. Usagi went next, kicking and screaming her boyfriend’s name. Just as she was dragged out the door, her eyes locked on me, and I could see the sheer betrayal there, the hatred burning and seething under her skin.

I simply smiled.

It wasn’t personal. It’s just how this world works.

Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn to reach the king.

The rest of us meandered out into the hall where the two traitors were being hauled towards their fate. I felt a hand clamp firmly on my shoulder, and fought the urge to move away when I saw Aguni standing beside me.

‘You did good, Chishiya. I never did trust those two.’

You should rethink where you put your trust.

‘Don’t mention it,’ I said. ‘It’s the least I could do.’

There was a furious cry down the hall as Usagi bit someone’s hand, followed by a slap, and then silence. I already had an inkling about what would happen to the two of them. Knowing Niragi, he would have some fun with Usagi before disposing of her. Perhaps I should’ve felt guilty. Some people certainly would. But there was a small, satisfied part of me that was glad it was her instead of...

‘That reminds me,’ Aguni said. ‘How did you know about them?’

‘Ah… that.’ I took the walkie talkie out of my pocket and flashed it to him. ‘They tried to get me to join them. I went along with it to find out the details, and you know the rest.’

Aguni’s brows furrowed at the sight of the device, but he didn’t ask to inspect or keep it. That’s when I knew I had him wrapped around my finger.

‘I understand. If you see any other suspicious behaviour, let me know.’

‘Of course.’

I nodded politely as he disappeared down the hall and submerged himself in his room.

Now that those two were taken care of, the militants would be distracted for a little while. That left us a generous amount of time until dark, although the real plan wouldn’t take long to execute, especially now I knew where the actual safe was.

Aguni may have been observant, but not nearly as observant as I was. Knowing that he had come so close to having the cards snatched from right under his nose, it would’ve unsettled anyone. And in such an unstable situation, it was only human nature to seek stability by making sure that your precious items are untouched.

I guess I was wrong about the blank sheet.

There was a room on the top floor that I knew wasn’t currently being used. In such close proximity to the royal suite, it was the perfect hideout where I could talk into the walkie talkie without worrying about eavesdroppers.

Slipping inside, I pulled it from my pocket once again to tune it to a radio frequency I had told Kuina about earlier. Knowing her, she would have tuned (name’s) to the same one right after Arisu’s capture.

I lifted the walkie talkie to my mouth. ‘Kuina?’

There was a drawn out moment of static, then Kuina’s voice crackled through. ‘I’m here. (Name) still needs a minute though.’

I figured as much. Once she realised what was happening, it was inevitable that she would react badly. Having Kuina there to keep her away from Arisu and Usagi had been for the best. And now she knew that I had unwillingly involved her in a plan like this, her opinion of me had probably sunk lower than before.

Is this also for the best?

I sat down on the unused bed, deciding that yes, it was. She would only be a distraction. If it came down to it, I needed to survive. And once we left the Beach, if she despised me so much that she chose to go down a separate path, it couldn’t be better.

But still…

‘Chishiya.’ Kuina’s voice interrupted the quiet. ‘I hope you feel guilty for this. I seriously hope a small part of you realises how screwed up this was.’

I smiled at her lack of understanding. I realised perfectly well, but for the sake of surviving in a world like this, you couldn’t allow yourself to slip to the bottom of the food chain.

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ I replied. ‘Are you backing out all of a sudden?’

‘Of course not. I can’t afford to, and neither can (name).’ She paused, then tentatively asked, ‘Did you know? About her… and you, you know.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Did you know she had feel—’ Kuina’s voice stopped, then she hushed, ‘She’s coming out now. We’ll be upstairs soon.’

The communication cut off, and all I could do was wait until they were in position. Wait, and mull over Kuina’s unfinished question. Obviously, they had been talking about me, but I almost didn’t want to know what they had said.

I waited fifteen minutes, and there was still no sign from either of them. If they carried on at this speed, we would run out of time. Growing restless, I held up the walkie talkie.

‘You two, how are things on your side?’

There was no response, but they would have to reply eventually. What I didn’t expect was her voice to come through.

‘You’re all good to go from where I’m standing.’ Her voice was still dripping with unspoken anger and betrayal, and it was surprising she was even willing to talk to me.

So you’re not as childish as you act. Who would’ve thought.

‘Aguni’s still in his room,’ Kuina followed up with a sigh. ‘We’re getting bored now.’

‘Then should we get going with the plan?’ I suggested. The reply I got was scathing.

‘We’ve already gotten going. It’s you who needs to hurry up.’

That attitude, it was almost laughable. How commanding (name) had become in an instant, as if she weren’t tagging along on someone else’s plan.

‘Patience,’ I reminded her, and turning down the volume on the walkie talkie, I cracked open the door.

In the hall, there wasn’t a soul in sight. It couldn’t have been more perfect. The royal suite was unguarded, and I easily slipped by unnoticed. Inside, the room was bathed in darkness, and it became apparent Aguni hadn’t yet bothered to move his belongings in. There were still traces of the incident earlier. The carpet by the open wardrobe was spotted with blood. Arisu’s blood.

I turned the volume on the walkie talkie back up. ‘I don’t know if Arisu is stupid or intelligent. Hatter was paranoid. He wouldn’t have hidden the cards in a normal safe.’

‘Where’s the real one then?’ Kuina asked.

I turned to the deer painting on the wall. It didn’t particularly stand out as anything special, just a deer’s face and antlers against a blue toned background. And yet earlier that day, despite all the commotion and Arisu’s screams of pain, it had captured Aguni’s focus.

‘When Arisu was caught,’ I said, slowly approaching the painting, ‘Aguni wasn’t paying attention. He was looking towards a certain picture on the wall. It turns out the paper wasn’t empty after all. It contained a drawing instead.’

Briefly placing the walkie talkie on a side table, I lifted the painting from the wall, uncovering the hidden treasure that I had been hoping for. The plaster had been carved up, forming a hole large enough to jam a small safe inside. And sure enough, there it was. A hotel safe, much like the one Arisu had tried, was embedded deep into the wall.

Her voice, sounded through the static. ‘So, you had no idea where it was until then?’

I picked up the walkie talkie again. ‘Exactly. What happened to Arisu was necessary if we were going to find the real safe. Speaking of which, I’ve found it.’

Now it was the moment of truth. The final test to see if my code was correct. I punched the numbers in one by one. 8022. Each one held its own magnitude, and I half-expected an alarm to ring out.

Except it didn’t. The safe display read ‘OPEN’.

‘You used him just for that?’ was Kuina’s tired response.

Really, after all this time, did she not realise that this was the price one had to pay? This world had a certain dynamic. In order to survive, you couldn’t allow yourself to get caught up in guilt or shame.

‘In order to gain something, you have to lose something,’ I said. ‘He’s just a sacrifice. Things like this happen a lot, don’t they?’

'No, they don’t. Not at all. I really don’t want to be your enemy.’

I smiled, remembering the betrayal in Arisu’s expression. ‘I get that a lot.’

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

The deck was like a weight, swinging in my pocket. A surefire sense of power and danger, all hidden within a stack of cards. There was no way of knowing whether collecting them granted any passage back to the old world. But there was also nothing to prove that they didn’t.

Either way, I’m certain something will happen once the deck is completed.

These cards couldn’t be for nothing.

After replacing the painting, I told Kuina and (name) to meet me near the patio exit at the east of the hotel. I could’ve caught up with them on my way down from the top floor, but I wanted to make a small diversion.

I’d never felt any attachment to my room, and even now as I took one last look, there was nothing in particular keeping me here.

Well, maybe just one thing.

Pulling open the second drawer down on the desk, I felt around at the back for the tiny box. It was only small, and the ring inside even smaller. It sat open in the palm of my hand, the silver fashioned into a small sun with a glistening green centre.

Somehow, its weight was even heavier than the cards.

Is there any point?

I could’ve easily slipped it into my pocket, but it was practically useless. Even if I gave it to her, she would instantly reject it.

I placed the box back in the draw. It would stay a secret for the next person moving into this room. As I shut the drawer, I suddenly remembered another, darker secret hidden inside the one below. I opened it up, seeing the little souvenir I’d taken from my first game.

The pistol glistened inside, metallic and dangerous. Now that would certainly keep Niragi at bay. But again, was it worth it? It didn’t hold many bullets, and it wouldn’t stand a chance against a rifle. Once we were out of here, I could probably find something a little bigger, perhaps in Tokyo’s empty Yakuza hotspots.

I left it there along with the ring. Even walking away felt like tugging at a string that kept pulling me back towards that tiny box. I would have to rip that string apart.

Making my way down through the hotel, I strolled outside, dipping into the smaller paths where the patio was peaceful. The only sounds were the faded music drowned out by wind, and the soft trill of crickets. Two silhouettes came into view, one basking in the glow beneath a lamppost, the other hidden against the wall in its shadow.

‘I guess we won’t be needing these anymore.’ I pulled off the wristband I had gotten so used to wearing. Just as I reached the brick archway at the edge of the grounds, Kuina spoke.

‘Don’t you feel sorry?’

I paused. ‘Sorry?’

‘About what happened to Arisu,’ (name) said. ‘I feel really sorry for him. We both do.’

Kuina hummed in agreement. ‘Don’t you?’

I turned, glancing from Kuina’s frown to the figure behind her. No matter how hard she tried to hide in her friend’s shadow, I could always find her, especially when her eyes looked so full of anger and hurt. Standing there, both bracing themselves against the cold, the two of them echoed off one another in perfect harmony.

‘I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.’

I knew what line came next. She didn’t have to sing, so long as she was still breathing. Perhaps I could make her understand.

‘Is there anything we wouldn’t do in order to survive?’

Clearly, there was. Their eyes widened, as if the truth of this world hadn’t fully hit them yet. As if all my efforts had been for nothing in their eyes.

Fine. Very well.

I smiled, no longer caring to hide the bitterness. ‘If you both feel so worried, then maybe you should go and help him.’

And of course, neither of them budged. They knew they couldn’t. They were both so happy to come with me if it meant escaping the Beach, yet they still felt the right to criticise my methods. I turned back towards the arch and took the first step forward into freedom, only to hear that tiny, oh-so-familiar sound.

A buzzing.

‘It can’t be,’ I muttered.

This was always a possibility. But why here? Why now? Why, when I was so close to winning? Any other time, and I wouldn’t have minded. This, however, was simply annoying.

I was so deep in thought, I barely registered the footsteps behind me… the familiar form sliding past me… walking closer towards the arch.

‘Stop.’

My hand moved on its own, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back just in time. For one small second I felt the heat of her skin, right before it was yanked out of my grip.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ She touched her wrist as if it had been burned, unaware that it had been the other way around.

I couldn’t answer. The cold had settled back in, the emptiness. It only confirmed that nagging suspicion I already knew. The reason I couldn’t rip the string apart. She was the answer.

Kuina appeared at my side, waiting for an explanation. Her presence reminded me that there was something far, far more pressing at stake. Suddenly remembering the wristband I was holding, I tossed it into the arch.

A glowing red laser shot through the centre and it clattered to the ground.

The timing was almost ironic, too perfect to be true. Almost like the gamemasters had been watching us all along, just as they had with that little stunt they pulled in the Eight of Hearts. As frustrating as this was, I had to admire their creativity.

I sighed, turning around to see a wall of lasers appear along the parameters of the hotel.

Touche.

#alice in borderland #aib #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #Chishiya x reader #chishiya x oc #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu #chishiya alice in Borderland

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tippedbykreider · 4 years ago

Text

something just like this | c. parayko

Word count: 14.6k Warnings: Mention of infertility Author’s Note: Colt and Cass are back! There’s been about 1.3k of stuff added to this but everything has remained pretty much the same :) Song title is from ‘Something Just Like This’ by The Chainsmokers Summary: Colton Parayko is no stranger to living life on the road and being away from home, but when a new neighbour moves in to the property next door, Colton comes to learn that perhaps home isn’t a place after all.

Colton Parayko would consider himself to be a lucky man. He had a dream job, he was living in a city that felt like home despite being thousands of miles away from his actual home. He drove a nice car, had a nice house in a good area and his neighbours were some of the kindest people he’d ever had the pleasure of encountering. Sure, there were days where he could kill a man for a Tim Horton’s but had to settle for a Starbucks instead, and those days made a pang of homesickness rear its head in his chest, but they were few and far between and if his biggest gripe was a lack of Tim Horton’s coffee in St Louis, then Colton thought he was doing pretty damn well if he was to say so himself.

He’d been in the city for the better part of five years now and had really found a place where he felt like he could put down roots, or at least for as long as his career would allow. When he’d first moved to the city he’d found himself an apartment right in the heart of Downtown, and while it was exciting and there was never a dull moment, it never really felt like somewhere Colton could see himself long term. He liked to party just like anyone else, but he was happiest when relaxing in his own space with a puzzle or a good book. To some this might seem boring or like he was old before his time but with a life as full on as Colton’s could be, it was a nice change of pace to kick back, relax and unwind. That’s what led him to the house he’d called home for the last couple of years. It was modestly sized but bright and airy and a perfect base for him during the season. The neighbourhood was quiet and filled with a lot of young families and it had that real sense of community that reminded Colton of his hometown back in Canada. He didn’t have to think twice about leaving his number with Laura and Joe or Tom and Martina on either side of him in case of an emergency and he knew that his bins would be taken care of if garbage day fell during one of his stretches on the road.

Things had been the same since he’d moved in and in some ways it seemed like time had stood still in that little corner of St Louis but rather than feeling humdrum and dull, Colton felt like it gave him a safe harbour to come back to during the crazy storm of the hockey season. No matter whatever else was happening in his life, Colton could always rely on the community spirit of his neighbourhood to make him feel like he was at home. But sooner or later, the tides of change sweep in and life as we know it is rearranged, sometimes in small ways, other times beyond all recognition. It started on a Tuesday morning in late-February; it was a rare day off and Colton was locking the front door to his house before heading out on his morning run when he noticed the for-sale sign in the front yard of the house to the right of his. He had no reason for the odd feeling that had sprouted in his stomach and had begun to settle heavily there, but there it was all the same.

He set off down the street at a leisurely jog, casting his mind back to the last conversation he’d had with Tom or Martina to try and remember if they’d mentioned anything to him about them potentially moving elsewhere but he was certain that they hadn’t. He would have remembered something like that, he would. He wasn’t exactly sure why seeing the sign had jarred him so much in the first place because while he was friendly with Tom and Martina and while he had always made sure to buy their son a small gift every Christmas and birthday since moving there, it wasn’t like he would consider himself to be their best friend or anything like that. But even so, Colton always enjoyed hearing Sam play outside on warmer days and he knew that he would miss his raucous laughter, it had reminded him so often of his own niece’s back in St Albert. Perhaps that’s what all this was about, Colton thought, the nostalgia and the sense of normalcy and that feeling of home, but even he understood that all things succumb to the rolling tides of change and that people move on to pastures new. All he could hope was that the new owners were just as nice and friendly as the soon-to-be old ones were.

It was early April when Colton spotted the removals van parked out on the street and within 48 hours he found himself waving off the Parkers along with the rest of the cul-de-sac. He wondered then who the new owners were, what they were like, whether they had children and hoped beyond hope that they would be willing to help keep an eye on his place while he was either away on the road or back in Alberta. He didn’t give it much more thought after that; the Blues were about to start their playoff campaign and Colton’s mind was firmly fixed on hockey. It was only when he returned home from a two day trip to Minnesota that he noticed a silver Mercedes coupe on the driveway next-door. The neighbourly instinct in him told him to go and introduce himself, but it was getting late and all Colton could think about was getting inside, taking a hot shower and dragging his tired body into bed.

An early practice meant that any semblance of a lie-in was out of the question. He’d decided to forgo breakfast at home in favour of an extra fifteen minutes wrapped up in the warmth of his duvet, figuring that he’d find some time to eat at the rink instead. By 8am he was slipping on his sneakers and heading out the door, a small duffel slung over one shoulder with a travel mug of coffee in his hand and his keys in the other. He was so focused on getting the front door closed and locked without having his bag slip from its precarious perch and spilling his coffee that he didn’t notice his new neighbour going through a similar routine of their own. She had a tan leather satchel balanced on her shoulder and her tote handbag was hooked over the same arm and dangling obnoxiously enough that it was severely impeding her ability to get the front door closed. Colton had just turned to get into his car when he saw her and his eyes immediately went to the comically large travel mug that was being held at an almost dangerous angle while she tried to move the bags out of the path between the door and the frame.

It was a no-brainer for Colton to set his own travel mug down on the roof of his car and cross the distance between the two houses, pocketing his car keys as he went. He couldn’t help the small smile that sparked across his face as her voice came into focus with every step he took.

“Με δουλεύεις? Δεν έχω χρόνο για αυτό! Σκατά στον τάφο σου…”

His brows knitted together in confusion despite the gentle smirk on his lips, stifling a laugh as he approached the porch steps while his new neighbour sighed in pure exasperation, completely unaware of his presence behind her.

“Σάλτα και γαμήσου.”

Colton leaned forward and took the mug, which was now tilted almost horizontally from her efforts, from her hand. She turned her head quickly, a look of surprise on her features that Colton returned with a friendly grin.

“You looked like you were having a bit of trouble there.”

She closed her eyes and offered a small laugh on the exhale of a single breath, the corners of her lips quirking ever so slightly into a hint of a smile.

“Sorry about that,” she said apologetically. “The plan wasn’t to cause a ruckus in the street this morning.”

Colton laughed and offered his hand to take the bags from her which she accepted gratefully, turning and shutting the front door before turning the key in the lock with a sense of finality.

“Sounded like you were really sticking it to that door.” He handed back her bags and waited until she’d pressed the button on her car keys to unlock it before giving her back the mug of coffee, taking in the navy blue pencil skirt suit and the powder blue silk blouse she wore. “You gonna be okay from here?”

“Yeah,” she nodded as she tossed her bags onto the passenger seat and surveyed him with a thankful expression. “Sorry for the theatrics, I just get a little flustered when I think I’m running late, especially on my first day at a new job.”

“Completely understandable,” Colton agreed while nodding sagely. “I’m Colton, by the way.”

“Cassandra,” she replied, offering her hand which he shook. “I’m guessing you live around here?”

“Yep,” Colton pointed to his house, not a stone’s throw away from hers. “Literally just there.”

Cassandra smiled at him, bright and dazzling and a million miles away from the frustrated little grimace she’d had on her face only a few minutes before, as if the incident with the door was already a distant memory.

“Well, it was lucky you came along when you did. Two bags, one of them heavy and a mug full of coffee? Could’ve been messy,” she smirked behind her travel mug as she took a sip, surveying him with chocolate eyes that were keen and warm all at once. “That’ll teach me, huh?”

“Glad to help. Although maybe leave the octopus impression to actual octopuses. Or is octopi? I never know which,” Colton mused, adjusting the strap of his duffel on his shoulder.

“I believe octopuses is the correct plural, grammatically speaking, although I’m not sure they mind either way,” Cassandra contemplated with a bemused smile on her lips before a brief silence fell between them as they surveyed each other with easiness and a gentle intrigue.

She was beautiful, Colton thought, and nothing like any woman he’d ever seen before with her olive skin and hair as dark as her eyes and there was a kind of fire in her belly, of that Colton was sure because in his twenty seven years of life he’d never seen anybody berate an inanimate object with the kind of gusto that she just had, even if he didn’t understand a word of it. He thought it was an odd contrast to the perfect, pristine suit that she was wearing and he found himself wondering just what it was that she did for a living. That thought quickly brought his mind back to the present, remembering that the real world was calling and that they both indeed had to get to their respective jobs, and he made a mental note to ask her about it when they both had a little more time on their hands.

“Well, I uh, I actually gotta shoot for work too but it was really nice meeting you,” Colton announced with what Cassandra interpreted as slight reluctance which she found both intriguing and endearing in equal measure. “And good luck for your first day at work, I hope it goes well for ya.”

“Yeah, you too and uh, thanks again.”

Colton flashed her a toothy grin, one that gave him a boyish kind of charm despite his imposing size, as he replied, warm and genuine, “Anytime.”

Cassandra watched with intrigue as Colton retreated back to his driveway and got into his SUV, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t sure what exactly the rest of her day would have in store for her, but as she saw the little wave Colton gave her through the window as he pulled away, she could feel a lightness start to spread in her chest and knew without a shadow of a doubt that the small act of kindness from her new neighbour had salvaged her morning.

It was four days later when Cassandra saw her neighbour again, an unusually warm Friday afternoon to be exact. It was his car in the driveway that she noticed first on account that it had been missing for the last two days and while she knew nothing of the man that had rescued her Monday other than the fact that his name was Colton, she couldn’t help the involuntary smile that had settled on her lips as she turned into the quiet cul-de-sac and saw the dark grey SUV she’d recognised from the other morning. She wondered just exactly when he’d come home, remembering her earlier observation that it was still missing as she reversed off her own driveway a shade past 8am that morning. It was 2:30pm now and all Cassandra could think about was getting out of her tailored dress and court shoes and into something much more comfortable.

She shut the engine off and climbed out of her car, grabbing her purse as she went; she’d come back for her satchel later. She immediately slipped off her shoes, not caring that she hadn’t even made the short distance up the driveway to the house, and tucked them carefully under her arm while she fished in her purse for her keys. She didn’t notice the tall blonde from next door emerge from his house, nor did she notice the bemused smile he wore while he watched her root around her too-large purse for her house keys and she definitely didn’t notice him set down the bucket of water and sponge he had in his hands before starting to cross the short distance between their houses.

“You need some help there?” he called out with a grin, causing her to jump and drop the shoes under her arm and the purse in her hand with a clatter.

“Ιησούς Χριστός!” She turned then, the slightly startled expression on her face melting into a warm smile and a soft laugh as she took in the large man in front of her, playfully prodding his solid chest as payback for the little fright he’d given her before moving to bend down and pick her belongings up off the floor. Colton was quicker though and before she had a chance to really register what was going on, Colton was handing her back the oversized purse, the black court shoes still in his other hand.

“Now, I’m gonna hazard a guess here and say that those aren’t your size,” she added with a devious little smirk, nodding towards his hand and laughing. Colton took a couple of beats to catch up to what she was saying as his eyes drifted from the easy grin she had on her face to the shoes before his face turned an interesting shade of pink and his free hand moved to rub the back of his neck.

“I just, um, I figured I’d keep a hold of them while you looked for your keys,” he offered.

“Very thoughtful of you. I swear I’m not usually this disorganised,” she said while she resumed her search inside of her purse. “It’s the Friday brain.”

“Rough week?”

“I’ve questioned my life choices exactly seven times this week and considered becoming a stripper but then I remembered that I couldn’t dance and my parents would be extremely disappoin- Aha!” She pulled the keys from out of her purse and put them into the lock. Colton was instantly hit with the sweet smell of summer flowers mixed with a scent that he couldn’t quite place the second her front door swung open but it somehow seemed to fit her, despite him still not really knowing her all that well. He wanted to though, because while she was intriguing and piqued Colton’s interest in all manner of ways, she was also incredibly warm, the kind of warmth that would draw even the most adventurous wayfarer to hearth and home. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was about her that gave her this gentle presence, maybe it was her eyes and how they seemed to hold a kind of sincerity that he couldn’t help but be enchanted by. Perhaps that was the reason why he was still standing holding her shoes in his hand even after she’d crossed the threshold into her home, despite him every intention of using the rare sliver of free time he had to do something productive like wash his car.

She’d finished hanging up her purse and was now back in front of him, surveying him with an easy smile while her hands reached out to gently take the shoes from his hand.

“Do you wanna come in for a drink or something? I bought a new espresso machine the other day and it’s the perfect weather to make iced coffee, although other beverages are also available if you’d prefer something else.”

“Oh I don’t wanna interrupt-“

“You’re not,” Cassandra assured. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to, believe me.”

There was a lightness in her tone that matched her smile and Colton found himself nodding in agreement, the bucket and sponge sat on his porch steps forgotten as he followed her inside and closed the door behind him. Her home had a warmness to it, much like the one Cassandra radiated herself, and Colton couldn’t help but be impressed at just how put together and lived in the space looked, despite it not even being two weeks since he was sure she’d moved in.

“Wow,” he said as he followed her deeper into the house. “You wouldn’t think you’d just moved in here, it took me weeks to unpack.”

Cassandra smiled as she grabbed two glasses from the cupboard while Colton settled himself against the kitchen island.

“I don’t have a lot of stuff really. This place is easily two or three times the size of my old apartment back in New York so once the furniture was in there wasn’t really an awful lot left to unpack. I did go to Pottery Barn on like, my second day here, which I’m not sure I’ll ever financially recover from but those chunky merino wool blankets are like crack to me.”

Colton laughed as he allowed his eyes to go to the blankets in question that were arranged over the back of a cosy looking cream fabric corner sofa. There were scatter cushions that somehow managed to look both homey and perfectly placed and while the whole room screamed French farmhouse vibes that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Pinterest, it never lost the inviting and hospitable charm that hit him as soon as he stepped foot inside. He took in the rest of the décor while Cassandra busied herself with their iced coffee, pushing away from the island to get a closer look at the many photographs arranged on the side tables and walls.

His attention was caught by a particularly large framed picture on the wall above a console table, eyes immediately drawn to the large group of smiling faces staring back at him. There must have been at least forty people in this photograph, he noted, all standing in front of a white villa with shutters that were the colour of the bright sky above them. He found Cassandra easily, her smile even more dazzling than the sun was that day. She was stood between a man and a woman whom Colton could only assume to be her parents. She had the same golden olive skin as her father, he thought, and her eyes bore a remarkable similarity to his in the way they crinkled slightly at the corners when she smiled but her smile itself and the rest of her features? They were all her mother’s and Colton caught himself smiling softly as he traced his gaze over each happy face in the photograph.

“Is this your family?”

Cassandra poked her head around the wall to see what Colton was referring to, laughing softly at the sight of him looking at the picture with a mild sense of wonder resting on his face before going back to finish making their drinks.

“Yeah,” she called from the kitchen.

“That’s a, that’s a real big family you got there.”

“Well,” she started, the amusement and teasing clear in her voice. “I am Greek and if you’ve ever seen that movie with John Corbett and Nia Vardalos you’ll understand exactly what it’s like.”

Colton fired a grin at her as he shook his head gently, “can’t say that I have.”

“I wish I could say that they exaggerated what it’s really like for the purposes of the movie but they really, really didn’t,” she laughed over the sound of the espresso machine. “Although I am glad that the swearing the other morning didn’t tip you off, I was trying to stay incognito so I didn’t have to spend my life listening to people talk to me about how good the gyros are here. The ones you guys sell here? Not traditional Greek gyros and frankly I’m insulted.”

She reappeared with two glasses in her hand, sidling up next to Colton with a brush of her shoulder against his bicep as she nudged into him with a playfulness that he couldn’t help but chuckle at, thanking her as he took one of the glasses from her hands.

“I mean, I thought you looked Mediterranean but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure on what language you were yelling at your door in.”

“Sometimes when I’m frustrated I open my mouth and my baba comes out,” Cassandra shrugged casually from behind her glass as she took a sip. “Those genes run pretty strong. They’re a passionate people, the Greeks.”

“So were you born in Greece and then moved here when you were young, or?” Colton asked, following Cassandra as she moved to the patio door and out onto the deck before settling down in the chair next to her.

“Oh no, I’m a born and raised New Yorker,” Cassandra clarified as she set her glass down on the side table between them.

“Really? I’ve been to New York a few times with work and you don’t have much of an accent, if you don’t mind me saying. I uh I don’t mean it rudely it’s just, there’s usually a distinctive accent there.”

“Ah, they beat accents out of you in Law school,” she grinned as she surveyed him. “It’s not professional sounding apparently. Although it’s probably for the best, if I sounded anything like my mother I’d never be taken seriously in my field.”

Colton nodded, becoming more intrigued by the woman sitting beside him by the second. “So your parents came here from Greece,” he hadn’t meant for it to sound so much like a question but he was eager to hear more.

“My dad did, my mom was actually born in New York but my grandparents emigrated here from Italy so you can just imagine my mom’s accent,” she punctuated her answer with a laugh before continuing. “My Nonna is from Naples and my Nonno was born in Bologna. They met and got married in Italy and then emigrated here when they were in their early twenties, it was all very romantic. Nonno passed away a couple of years ago and Nonna took it pretty hard but she has my mom and aunts and uncles around to take care of her.”

“So your mom’s family-“

“Also massive,” Cassandra laughed. “I say that I came to St Louis for work but really it was for the peace and quiet.”

Colton chuckled with her at that, unable to even imagine the size of her combined family. He wondered if they’d ever all been together in the same room during Cassandra’s lifetime and whether it was as chaotic as he thought it might have been based on Cassandra’s words.

“So family gatherings must be pretty wild, huh?”

“Thankfully most of my dad’s family are all in Greece. My paternal grandparents are really old now so they don’t venture very far, let alone this far but my dad’s siblings have been to visit a couple of times and it’s always, um, interesting when mom’s family visit my parents while dad’s relatives are staying there and when I say ‘interesting’ I mean ‘loud’,” she grinned. “Everyone forgets regular social conventions like waiting for the other person to finish speaking before starting to speak themselves and the concept of an indoor voice.”

Colton let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a cough as he stopped the mouthful of coffee he’d just taken from reappearing out of his nose, Cassandra laughing along with him before she offered him an apology and a smile.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you inhale your drink there.”

“No,no, it’s okay,” he assured. “It was a good mental image, almost curious to see what that’s like.”

“Well, if you ever feel like subjecting yourself to a headache and my family is in town I’ll let you know,” Cassandra winked as a gentle laugh floated past her lips.

“I appreciate it,” Colton grinned in reply, although he couldn’t help the heat rising in his cheeks at the thought, which was an unusual response in itself, he thought, given that the woman sitting beside him was still really an acquaintance. He paused briefly as the light moment they’d shared settled between them, filling the space with a quietness that was by no means uncomfortable despite it being light-years away from their laughter not moments prior. There was a distinct curiosity there, a desire to know her in the way that friends know each other and it was a curiosity that Colton couldn’t trace the source of. She was his neighbour, yes and neighbours often knew a surface level of information about each other and their lives in a kind of shallow and superficial kind of way, and she’d been kind enough to invite him in for coffee, which was probably about as neighbourly as you could get but there was something else about their interactions that felt like more than being just neighbourly. There was a lightness to them, a playfulness that he couldn’t recall experiencing with any of his other neighbours and that curiosity, that need to keep talking to her and listen to her life story, her likes, her dislikes and everything in between, but he also didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, and so he opted to ask her about something safe, something she’d already offered to him in passing.

“You said you went to Law school? I know you probably get this all the time but you must be pretty smart.”

“Yeah, uh, NYU. Graduated a few years back, took the bar examination and then got a job at a decent firm in Manhattan. It’s just so competitive there, y’know? It felt like I couldn’t ever really get ahead no matter how hard I busted my ass because of just how cutthroat that whole scene is and I was sick to death of feeling like I had to prove myself in an old boy’s club just because I was a female in my mid-twenties with a foreign sounding surname so I thought I’d broaden my horizons a little bit. I looked up some reputable firms across the country, sent a few speculative letters and here I am.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’s like, having to jump over hurdles like that just because you’re a woman with a mixed heritage, like I guess I’ve always been aware of how my privilege has meant I’ve never really had to deal with stuff like that but I just can’t even… You’re one tough cookie, you know that?” Colton turned in his seat so that he was facing her better, his glass cradled within his hands.

“I guess you kind of have to be when you work in law, especially as a woman. I spend most of my days around guys who look for opportunities to turn any situation into a dick measuring competition and who look at you like you’re some incompetent newbie who’s only in that position to fulfil some sort of equality and diversity quota bullshit,” Cassandra sighed heavily, meeting Colton’s eyes as she continued. “Real talk? It feels like I lead a double life every single day. I go to work and it feels like I have to put on a persona just to prove that I belong at the table and that shit is fucking exhausting. That person I am when I’m at work? That’s not the real me but people will see that person and make judgments about her, y’know? They’ll say that I’m ‘difficult’ or that I’m ‘cold’ or ‘standoffish’ when in reality they create an environment that is so toxic for women that they force them to be someone they’re not just to get by.”

Cassandra inhaled deeply, filling her lungs back up with air after her mini-tirade had come out on a whoosh of a breath. She was wearing an almost sheepish look as she surveyed Colton, an apologetic smile gracing her lips before she spoke again.

“Sorry for the rant that you literally didn’t ask for or need.”

“Hey,” Colton replied sincerely. “You don’t need to apologise. Honestly? I’m just in awe that you’ve not let the bullshit stop you, most people would have thrown in the towel and peaced out.”

“It’s definitely better now that I’m not working in New York, like, I know it’s still very early days but all my colleagues are really nice and the few attorneys from other firms I’ve dealt with have all been really respectful. I don’t know, it just feels different here. Don’t get me wrong, I love my city, I love New York but I don’t miss the toxicity of working in practice there.”

“Was it hard? Leaving your family and stuff? I mean, it sounds like you’re all pretty close,” Colton asked.

“So hard,” Cassandra nodded solemnly. “Mom and dad were devastated. Their only daughter moving nearly a thousand miles away? God, I remember their faces when I told them. Mom cried, fuck, I didn’t think she was ever gonna stop.” She paused briefly and Colton felt her sigh settle all through his body as her dark eyes found his. “I don’t know how much you know about Greek and Italian culture but family is everything.”

“I don’t but I kind of know what it’s like,” he spoke softly, hoping that she would pick up on the reassurance he was trying to offer her. “Picking up and starting all over again? Leaving your family behind? I know what that’s like and sometimes, when the summer rolls around and my work is done for the year, I almost don’t wanna go back home because it’s hard. It’s hard to see all the things you’ve missed and it’s hard to leave it all behind again but I wouldn’t ever change that feeling because it’s good to know that you have something you miss that much.”

Cassandra took a few moments to let Colton’s words settle in her chest before asking quietly, “where is home?”

“Canada.”

“Wow, so you’re even further away from home than I am. God, I’m sorry. I invite you in for coffee and pleasant conversation and I turn this into a ‘woe is me’ pity party for myself.”

Cassandra looked down into her glass and Colton felt an unfamiliar pull in his chest. It was as if a cloud had passed in front of the sun and the light had dimmed and everything suddenly felt that little bit colder. He wasn’t sure why he all at once felt compelled to open himself up to her, usually being one for his own company and never extending the hand of close friendship to any of his neighbours before, but there was something about Cassandra and the way that she already felt like a ray of sunshine in his life. If there was a way for him to chase the clouds away, even for just a little while, Colton was going to make sure of it.

“Hey, Cassie?” he started, quickly correcting himself. “Um, can I call you Cassie?”

Cassie looked up from her glass to find him looking at her with a newfound softness and she was struck by how much he reminded her of her ancestral home with the rich, warm sand of his hair and the ocean harboured within his eyes. She smiled then and much like a passing cloud, the sun seemed to come back out with that small quirk of her lips.

“You can.”

Colton set his glass down on the table then and folded his hands together, looking at her with a gentleness that was reflected in his voice as he spoke. “I know I’m not always around. My job it- it takes me away quite a bit but I want you to know that you don’t have to feel like you’re alone here. I know how rough it can be starting over in a new city and if I can help or if you ever wanna just talk or hang out, I’m here for you. You can even have my number, if you want, y’know in case you wanna talk or anything while I’m out of town and I just, I want you to remember that it’s okay to feel homesick sometimes.”

Cassie nodded at that because more than his words and the candour with which he spoke, it was the sincerity in his eyes as he looked at her that made her believe him wholeheartedly.

Colton’s offer of friendship was one that Cassie had taken him up on and it was a state of being that came naturally to the pair. Cassie had learned about Colton’s job as the number one defenceman for the St Louis Blues during their conversation on her patio and while hockey wasn’t a sport that she professed to be well versed in, she still enjoyed hearing about his training, the games and everything that came with it, and she’d been around the Rangers fans in her family long enough to know that he was pretty big deal given that he was a Stanley Cup Champion. Colton, on the other hand, found himself completely in awe of Cassie’s role as a complex litigation lawyer for one of St Louis’ most prestigious firms, especially knowing a little bit more about her struggles to be seen and work her way up the ladder and while he couldn’t profess to be au fait with how it all worked and what was involved in her line of work and the litigation process, he loved to hear about the cases she was working on and how her work helped others. But above those things, their jobs were ones that kept them both busy and it was during the quieter times, the times that would have had them both seeking the solace of their own company once upon a time, that they would seek out each other.

It had started as cups of coffee and quick catch-ups in the brief respites of their hectic schedules, but had soon evolved into making time for lunches and even dinners shared over bottles of wine, continuing long after Colton’s season had ended before finally pausing around mid-July when he would be heading back North to spend the rest of the summer with his family. It had worked out fortuitously though as Cassie’s caseload had multiplied seemingly overnight and she would find herself working longer days and spending more time at the office than her own home. Colton was concerned of course, as any friend would be, and he would check in often when he knew she was working late. It’s not that Colton thought that she shouldn’t be working more hours, understanding enough about her job and role to know that the final push before a big court date often meant extended working hours to get everything ready, but he wanted to make sure that she was taking care of herself and wasn’t putting herself at risk of burnout.

It was a late-August evening when Colton called at around 7:30, just as he had been doing for the last couple of weeks, knowing that Cass would usually be home from the office by that point with her being an hour ahead in Missouri, even with her later working hours recently. The line rang for a few seconds, longer than it usually took for Cassie to answer him and Colt wondered if he’d maybe caught her taking a shower or making dinner. She answered eventually though, a little breathless sounding and an almost forced calmness in her voice.

“Cassandra Constantinou.”

“Cassie? Hey, it’s Colton. Is uh- is everything okay? Is this a bad time?”

“Colt,” she breathed, voice softening immediately. “Hey. God is that the time already?”

She ran a hand through her dark hair as a tired exhale passed her lips which had Colton furrowing his brow at the other end of the line and while Cass couldn’t see the slight worry that rested on his features, she could hear it in his voice as he spoke.

“Are you alright? You never answer your phone with your full name.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, slumping back into her desk chair. “Still in work mode.”

“Wait, are you still at the office?”

“Yeah,” she grimaced as she took a sip of her long-cold cup of coffee. “The court date for that big case I’ve been working on is in two days and I just need to make sure I’ve got all my ducks in a row. Time got away from me a little bit tonight and I was already behind from putting metaphorical fires out earlier in the day.”

Colton sat up from where he had been laid on his bed, unable to keep the concern out of his voice despite the fact that he didn’t want to come across like he was being overbearing.

“Have you eaten?”

“Lately?” Cassandra replied.

“Cassie-“

“I had lunch around 12:15.”

“Cass, that was 8 hours ago,” Colton chided gently. “You gotta eat, πουλάκι μου.”

Cassandra paused her action of moving papers aimlessly around her desk, a grin sparking at her lips for the first time that day and catching like kindling until it had spread the full width of her face and all the way up to her eyes.

“Did you just- have you been googling Greek pet names, Colton Parayko?”

Her tone was light and bright and Colton could feel her smile through the phone, feel the way it crawled through his skin and settled in his bones like a welcome ray of sunshine on a cold day.

“I-I,” Colton was flushing beet red and he was thankful that Cassie couldn’t see him in this moment because the redness in his face was quickly spreading to the tops of his ears. “I’ve been trying to learn Greek.”

“Oh yeah?” Cassie grinned with equal parts mischief and glee, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her desk. “Look, if you wanna learn how to swear at guys on the other team, you might not wanna call them ‘my little bird’, you totally could’ve just asked me if you were wanting to learn some Greek phrases. I can teach you all the good insults.”

“That’s not,” Colton sighed in mild exasperation, although inwardly pleased that this had provided Cassie with a much needed distraction from the stress of her work. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

Cassie’s grin softened immediately and she didn’t miss the way her heart constricted ever so slightly either. Her tone shifted to something much gentler and a world away from her playful teasing not a moment ago.

“Well, consider me surprised.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” Colton asked after a pregnant pause.

“Not at all. I think it’s actually really sweet and thoughtful.”

A silence descended between the pair but it wasn’t one that was uncomfortable, instead it allowed the seed that had been buried deep in Cassie’s chest since the day Colton had gone back to Canada to sprout and it was in that moment that she found herself really missing him. She missed him for a lot of reasons, some she could rattle off like how he looked out for her and made sure that she was taking care of herself, and others she wouldn’t understand fully until later. It was as if Colton could hear that quiet call of her heart in that moment where she found herself wishing that he was back in St Louis because he broke the silence with the words Cass had been longing to hear for weeks.

“So I’m coming back at the end of next week and I was hoping you would be free to hang out.”

“That would be amazing,” Cassie’s voice was rich through the phone with her smile and Colton couldn’t help the slight flutter in his chest when he thought about how pretty she looked when she smiled in the way he was imagining her to be.

“Yeah? I figured I’d come back a couple of weeks early before training camp because… well because I’ve really missed hanging out with you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Colt.”

Colton didn’t miss Cassie’s choice of words and had to fight to resist the urge to analyse them for anything other than what they were. She said it though, not just that she missed hanging out with him, but that she missed him and she had meant it too. She had missed him, more than she thought she ever would and maybe more than friends should miss friends, and despite it being the height of summer, Cass felt like she’d been living under a grey cloud since Colton had left for Canada. It should have rattled her with how easy it had been for Colton to become a part of her life, especially when she had been so used to her own company. It had been the same since she graduated law school – she would work, often long hours as was expected of new associates trying to find their footing in a firm, she would come home tired, she would eat, shower and sleep before getting up and doing it all over again. Any free time was spent either catching up on all the things she didn’t have time to do during her working week or with her family, knowing her parents and grandmother well enough to know that if she didn’t surface frequently there would be a freak-out of epic proportions. Since moving to St Louis though? Cass’s life had changed completely and in ways she never thought possible.

Work was still stressful, yes, but for the first time in a long time she felt valued and appreciated and she was on course for partnership if things kept going the way they were; but more than that, she felt a sense of fulfilment that extended beyond her career. Being friends with Colt was easy and it was as if the two of them had an unspoken mutual understanding of what they needed from each other and their friendship. Cassie understood the pressures of Colton’s job, just as he understood the stresses of hers and it was that awareness of each other and their lives that had allowed their friendship to blossom so easily. That time spent with each other, whether on Cassie’s back patio or curled up on Colton’s couch, was what they both needed to re-center and reset. Sure, they would talk about work but it was always kept brief because neither felt the need to discuss it in great detail, they both knew what it was like for them and they both knew that their time together was an escape from all of that. Some nights they’d sit in companionable silence with nothing more than soft music in the background, others they would talk and talk about everything and anything. But as the weeks had progressed, they found themselves saying goodnight to each other later and later and that hint of reluctance would creep in in the form of a too-long hug or a lingering look. It felt natural though, and good and right, and so it was incredibly easy to make firm plans for when Colton came back to the city.

The end of the work week brought about a successful conclusion to the case that had consumed so much of Cassie’s time and with the resolution that she’d worked so hard for came vast amounts of praise from her bosses and a lighter work load the following week. They’d even gone so far as giving Cassie the Friday off for her efforts but there were a couple of loose ends that needed tying up and so, despite their gentle protests and their best efforts to get her to stay home, Cassie found herself at her desk that Friday morning. As lunchtime approached and all loose ends were sufficiently tied, Cass turned her computer off for the final time that week and said her goodbyes as she headed out of the office. She’d use the afternoon to spruce her house ready for Colton coming over once he was back from the airport and she’d resolved to give her parents a quick Skype after receiving a string of text messages from her mother, with the last one being a threat to fly down to St Louis if she didn’t hear from her soon.

The baking late-August heat had Cass tearing off her pencil skirt and blouse no sooner had she stepped into her house. She cursed as she hopped down the hallway in her heeled pumps, the grey fabric of her skirt bunched around her knees while her clammy hands fumbled with the tiny buttons on the crepe silk blouse.

“Γαμώτο!” she exclaimed as she came dangerously close to slipping on the rug in her hallway and face-planting the floor. “ηλίθιο χαλί.”

She kicked off the shoes that had almost been successful in making her the proud owner of a broken neck and pulled her skirt down her calves, stepping out of it before pulling her half unbuttoned blouse over her head and tossing the discarded clothing into the hamper in the laundry room. She rooted through the shamefully full basket of clean clothing that sat upon the counter top until she found the loose cotton maxi-dress she was looking for.

After indulging in a cool glass of ice-tea, Cass set about tidying the house - not that there was much to do, but growing up in a family full of house-proud women meant that not a single cushion could be out of place if company was coming over, especially if that company was of the male variety (not that she’d ever share that bit of information with her mother). After all, as her Nonna Gioia would say: “a ogni uccello il suo nido è bello,” and even Cassie could appreciate that a beautiful nest was indeed a tidy nest.

It was close to 3pm by the time Cassie settled down on her couch with her laptop, the temperature inside the house much more comfortable with the whisper of a breeze coming through the wide-open patio door. She balanced her computer on the arm of the sofa as she started the Skype call to her parents, her mother’s voice the first thing she heard, even before the video had loaded and before Cass had the chance to say ‘hello’.

“Mamma mia, Cassandra! We thought you’d dropped off the face of the earth!”

“Hi, mom,” Cass smirked. “How’re you?”

“Not funny, il mio passerotta.”

Cassie watched as her mother inched closer to the screen with narrowed eyes, already expecting the next words that came out of her mouth.

“You’re looking thin in the face. Are you eating? Are you sick?”

“No, mama, I’m not sick and yes, I’m eating,” Cassandra replied with as much conviction as she could muster in order to appease her mother, her effort falling short with her mother’s next line of questioning.

“What are you eating?”

“Giovanna,“ Cassie’s father interrupted.

“Look at her, Hector! She’s all skin and bone! Don’t you want to know what she’s been eating? She could be living off celery for all we know! When was the last time you had a proper meal? You’re not doing one of those ridiculous diets are you? They’re no good for you, Cassandra, there’s nothing wrong with a woman having a bit of meat on her bones.”

“I’m fine, mama,” Cassie sighed, keen to steer the conversation away from herself. “How is everyone? Nonna okay?”

“Yes, yes, we’re all fine here. You should call your Nonna though, she misses that pretty face of yours.”

“I’ll call her tomorrow and arrange to Skype next weekend, give her chance to get someone to set things up for her.”

Conversation quickly turned to the family happenings back in New York, much to Cass’s relief. Her father had been incredibly busy with work, she’d learned and he’d finally got around to buying himself a new record player after Cass had spent the better part of four months trying to convince him that there was no salvaging the old one. After half an hour or so of catching up, Cass felt a mild sense of relief wash over her at the sudden realisation that she’d managed to get through any amount of time talking to her parents without the subject of her love-life being brought up.

“Oh, your cousin Antonio had a date with a very lovely girl last week. She’s a hairdresser, such a good girl.”

Ah, fuck.

“Really, mama?” Cass said indifferently, praying to whoever was listening that she wouldn’t follow that up with anything. “Good for him.”

“You know,” her father began, looking over his glasses at her. “If you didn’t work so much then maybe you’d have time to find yourself a man.”

“Baba,” Cass warned gently.

“Your father’s right, Cassandra,” Giovanna gently scolded. “You’re a beautiful girl, why haven’t you found a nice boy yet? You’re too young to be a spinster.”

“Exactly, mama,” Cassandra replied calmly. “I’m too young to be a spinster. I’m working hard to get where I want to be in my career. There’s plenty of time for all the other stuff. Didn’t you tell me to work hard at my job and do well for myself?”

“Well, yes, but I don’t want to be an old Nonna. I want to be able to run after my grandbabies and I’m not getting any younger.”

Cassandra opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of her front door opening and then closing with a soft click.

“Cass?”

Cassandra’s face flashed with a gentle confusion as she checked the watch on her wrist before contorting into mild horror at the sound of Colton calling her name again, louder this time – loud enough that it carried through the microphone and out through the speakers of her parents’ computer judging by the gleeful expression on their faces.

“Is that a man?” her mother said excitedly. “I heard a man’s voice. Who is he? Why is he letting himself into your house? Is he your boyfriend?! Why didn’t you tell us you had a boyfriend?!”

Colton appeared in the living room, a sheepish look on his face as he spoke.

“Sorry, is this a bad time? I caught an earlier flight and wanted to surprise you.”

“Cassandra Giulia Constantinou, you’d better answer me this second!”

Cass winced at her mother’s voice and threw Colton a glance that she hoped would tell him to run far, far away before her parents started making demands that would make Colton want the ground to swallow him up, demands that she was sure would make their friendship incredibly awkward.

“Bring him in,” her father asserted. “Let me get a good look at him, make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“Baba,” that warning tone was back in Cassandra’s tone and there was a look in her eyes that Colton found adorable but knew better than to make a comment describing it as such.

Whether or not his next move was against his better judgment would remain to be seen but Colton found himself coming deeper into the living room and sitting down on the couch next to Cass, Giovanna audibly gasping as he did so while Hector removed his glasses and surveyed the large man sitting next to his daughter.

“He’s very pale, does he not go outside? Is he sick?” Hector remarked. “It doesn’t snow in St Louis, does it? You’d lose him in a blizzard.”

“Ooooh, Cassandra. Isn’t he tall? And so broad!”

Cassie gave Colton, who had turned an interesting shade of crimson she’d never before seen, an apologetic smile before turning her attention back to her parents.

“Okay, could we try maybe not weirding my friend out? ‘kay, thanks and Jesus Christ, dad, you can’t just say stuff like that to people, I don’t even know where to start with how inappropriate that is.”

“I thought my tan was pretty good this year,” Colton muttered loudly enough that only Cassandra heard him and she had to fight with every bit of self-restraint she had to keep a straight face.

“So, young man,” Hector was speaking again; those eyes that were so remarkably like Cassandra’s were keen on Colton and Cass knew that she wasn’t going to like what was about to come out of her father’s mouth. “What is it that you do? Cassandra is a very bright girl and she shouldn’t be settling for just anybody. She deserves only the very best. Tell me why you think you’re good enough to date my daughter-“

“Okay, that’s it,” Cassandra interrupted, her tone sharper than Colton had ever heard it before. “αυτό είναι απαράδεκτο. δεν τον ανακρίνεις έτσι! είναι φίλος μου και είσαι πολύ αγενής!”

“Cassandra,” her father tried but he was immediately cut off by her once more.

“είμαστε φίλοι και τίποτα άλλο. σταμάτα να με πιέζεις να παντρευτώ” Cassandra paused for a second, as if to catch her breath from whatever tirade she’d given her parents that Colton could only begin to imagine before she spoke again, in English this time. “Now, if you don’t mind, Colton here has just got home from travelling and we have plans. I’ll call you again on Sunday.”

Whatever Cass had said to them must have worked, Colton thought, because their responses were much more subdued and they said their goodbyes rather quickly, Cassie closing her laptop with more force than was necessary and with a long exhale of breath that flared her nostrils.

“I am so sorry,” she started, her eyes apologetic as she surveyed him with a slight crease in her brow that made Colton’s heart tug in his chest.

“Hey, it’s okay. I shoulda-“ he rubbed his large hand over the back of his neck as he spoke softly. “I shoulda called ahead or something. Or knocked. Literally could’ve done a thousand things differently. Sorry for putting you in a spot there.”

“No, no, you’re fine. It’s just them. They mean well but fuck.”

Colton reached across and squeezed her hand gently, the touch managing to warm Cassie’s skin even on a day as hot as that one.

“Y’know,” he began, his tone light with a hint of teasing. “You’re terrifying when you’re pissed and start talking in Greek.”

He grinned as Cassie barked out a laugh, her head thrown back in that carefree way that made his stomach do backflips and her dark eyes sparkled behind her long lashes as she looked at him with a beaming smile, the annoyance that had rested on her features melting away into nothingness.

“Yeah? You’d do well to remember that, Parayko.”

“I wouldn’t dream of fighting you,” he quipped. “You’d kick my ass.”

There was a pregnant pause before Colton spoke again, unsure whether or not to say the words that sat heavily on the tip of his tongue. It was the gentle look in Cassie’s eyes, the smile that still graced her lips as she surveyed him easily and the way her thumb had taken to absentmindedly stroking the back of his hand that spurred him on, sure as he was that he could always be candid with her.

“What um, what did you say to them? I’ve never seen two grown adults look so timid after a telling off.”

Cassie chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, chewing over the words in her mind before she spoke them quietly, her eyes resting on Colton’s hand in hers.

“They just have this thing about me settling down and I get it, I’m their only child, I’m approaching thirty and they want grandkids. Remember how I said that family was really important to Greeks and Italians?”

Colton nodded, his eyes soft on her while he waited for her to continue.

“And every time we talk it’s ‘your cousin is seeing this girl’ or ‘the oldest Maloney girl is pregnant, isn’t that nice?’ and it is nice, it is, like, good for them, y’know? And I know my parents wanted a big family and I can’t even imagine how that must have felt, being told after the birth of your first child that she’d be your only child when they had all these plans to have lots of babies and have a big family. I want to make them happy and give them the grandkids they’d always dreamed they’d have, I do, but I’m not there yet, maybe sometime in the future but it has to be right. It has to be.”

She paused then, the rich earth of her eyes finding the summer skies of his and felt a flicker of a flame stir within her chest at how easy it was to just be like this with him, to be open and honest without fear of him somehow using that vulnerability against her. It was liberating and terrifying and everything Cassandra ever dreamed it would be when she eventually found someone she was comfortable sharing this part of her life with, that vulnerability and intimacy that was often so hard to show because of her line of work. But Colton was good and sweet with a pure heart and purer intentions and so she didn’t need to think twice about sharing this part of herself and what she’d said to her parents with him.

“I told them that they were out of line, that they can’t interrogate you like that and that their behaviour was incredibly rude. I told them that we were just friends and that they needed to stop pushing me to get married.”

Cassandra could’ve sworn that Colton’s expression had deflated slightly at the mention of their relationship status but before she’d even had the chance to process it, Colton had fixed his features back to the easy and gentle expression he usually wore around her.

“They just really care about you, y’know?” Colton said quietly after a brief moment of silence. “They want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” Cassandra assured and Colton couldn’t help but wonder if the conviction in her voice was for his or her own benefit. “I am. Moving here has been the best thing. Work is awesome, I have a house that I could only have ever dreamed of being able to afford in New York.” She paused again, making sure that she had Colton’s eyes on her before she dropped the volume of her voice to just above a whisper, “and I met you. How could I not be happy?”

Colton smiled, not big and bright, but soft and warm and filled with a tenderness that teetered on the edge of crossing the line of friendship. Here in front of him was someone he would have never imagined would become a good friend in the relatively short time they’d known each other, his best friend in fact and now that she was here, in his life and in his heart, he wondered how he’d ever lived a life without her because with Cassandra, nothing was ever forced and she gave him a strange feeling of freedom that he’d never had before. It was that kind of ease that makes the stresses of life fall away and whenever he was with her it felt like they could be the only two people on earth. She knew when he was struggling with the stresses of his job without him ever needing to say it out loud, just like he would know when she was under pressure with her own work but more than any words of encouragement they could give to each other to alleviate the stresses and burdens of life, it was that peaceful, secure feeling between them, that came so effortlessly, that pulled them towards each other like planets to a sun. It was then, in that moment, that Colton began to understand that maybe home wasn’t a place at all, it was a feeling. It was something that you miss when you’re without it and Colton could say with completely certainty that he’d missed Cassie.

Cassie and Colton would see each other almost every day over the course of weeks that followed. Even with the start of training camp, Colton found himself home every evening and Cassie’s work schedule had eased somewhat, meaning that she was often escaping the office at 5:30 on the dot. They would spend those precious few hours before sleep called them to their respective beds together, talking over dinner with a bottle of wine open between them before eventually retiring to the couch. Sometimes they’d find themselves talking all night, with the TV in the background forgotten about, others they’d watch something easy together (which led to Colton discovering that he really enjoyed Bake Off, much to Cassie’s delight) but their favourite nights together, or at least for Colton anyway, were the nights where they would share their favourite music with each other. Colton had admittedly not been much of a music enthusiast. Sure, he enjoyed listening to it just as much as the next person, but he would be the first person to confess that his listening never really extended beyond the radio. The same couldn’t be said for Cassie.

Much like her father, Cassie was the proud owner of an old record player that had been lovingly refurbished. If asked about it, she’d preface her love of the item by saying that it was probably the most extravagant purchase she’d ever made, but she would also make no hesitation in saying that there was just something about listening to Etta James or Billie Holliday on vinyl that digital versions just couldn’t hold a candle to. Colton loved that Cassie’s music preferences had been influenced by her family, he loved hearing about how her father had fallen in love with Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin when he first came to America at the tender age of 21, he loved hearing about how Cass’s father would purchase a new vinyl with every pay-check, something that had started when he first started earning money as a carpenter and handyman and still continued to this day. He loved how Cass could recall, with complete clarity, the way she would sit on the rug in front of the record player as a child while she watched her father unwrap the vinyl, filled with both excitement and anticipation at what wonderful music was held on the black disc in his hands. Colton learned that music had been such a prominent and important part of her childhood, whether it was listening to her father’s music collection with him and telling him about new artists to try or weekends spent at her Nonna and Nonno’s house filled with Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. All of those songs had touched her life in some way and with each story Colton couldn’t help but feel thankful and grateful to see inside the heart that brought him such peace and happiness without even realising.

All too soon though, the season had started once more and once again Colton found himself on the road. This time it felt different though. Instead of the usual indifference he would feel about being away from the comforts of home, he felt an ache that had started in his chest and settled all through his bones. It wasn’t homesickness, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, because it wasn’t his house that Colton missed, it was the person that made him feel like he was home. It was the person who had taken the time to make him a Spotify playlist to listen to while he was travelling, that playlist that he couldn’t help but have on repeat because during those moments that the music filled his ears and filled his soul like sand in an hourglass, he was back in St Louis on her patio with her, drinking wine and laughing together with that same music filtering through the sliding doors. It was easy, in those moments where he would be on the plane with his headphones and that playlist on, to close his eyes and imagine the way her rich laughter crawls all the way through his skin and warms his heart like a shot of whisky on a winter’s day.

Cassie hadn’t really noticed just how much a part of her life Colton was until his schedule was pulling him out of the city and she found herself alone again during the evenings. She also found herself, in those moments, picking up the television remote and tuning in to Blues games, even going so far as reaching out to her cousins back in New York to pick their brains about the finer details of hockey, citing her sudden interest in the sport as a new hobby on account of her not wanting to throw Colton into the lion’s den. She’d made sure to test her newfound knowledge on Colton during their phone calls while he was away (which impressed him to no end) and had made a promise to come and watch him play his next game at Enterprise Center. It was that promise that had Colton wrapping up a blue jersey, with his name and number on, in pretty floral paper, going so far as adding a length of ribbon tied in a little bow on top, even if it did look a little droopy by virtue of his large hands and less than nimble fingers.

Colton was tired. A tough stretch of road-games had his body aching in ways that would ordinarily have him crawling into bed and not resurfacing until practice obligations demanded it, but it’d been almost a week since he’d seen Cassie and the promise of her company, a home-cooked meal and all the wine he could manage was something he wouldn’t dream of resisting. He had taken a quick shower once getting home before changing into a pair of jeans and a soft-knit sweater, making sure to grab the wrapped jersey and the small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on his way back from the airport. He was a little early but he’d learned from experience that Cassie wouldn’t mind. He would simply make sure that she had a full wine glass and offer to help in the kitchen.

He let himself in as normal, the beautiful smell of rich tomatoes and herbs hitting him immediately and sparking a wide smile on his face. He didn’t speak immediately, the volume of the music she had on loud enough for him to know she wouldn’t hear him, but instead slipped off his sneakers and moved further into the house.

“Hai usato capperi?”

The voice that came from the kitchen belonged to an older woman and Colton found himself wondering if he’d missed something during his earlier conversation with Cass. He was sure she hadn’t mentioned having extra company but he had been picking up flowers for her at the time and it was entirely possible that he could have missed that small detail in the process.

“Non è una vera puttanesca se non usi i capperi. Me lo hai insegnato tu.”

Colton paused in the archway, his eyes falling to Cassie in the kitchen while his heart swelled to ten times its normal size at the sight in front of him. There was no one else there with her, only her iPad on a stand resting on top of the counter. It took a moment for Colton to realise that the voice was in fact coming from the device when he heard the older woman begin to speak again.

“Dimmi di più su questo ragazzo che ti piace”

Cassie laughed at whatever the older woman had said before replying, “Ti ho già parlato di lui, nonna.”

‘Ah,’ Colton thought. ‘This is the word famous Nonna.”

“Bene, dimmelo di nuovo!’ her grandmother chuckled. ‘Sono una vecchia signora e la mia memoria è terribile”.

If you asked him about this particular night at a later date, Colton wasn’t entirely sure how long he had stood there listening to Cassandra talk with her grandmother while her hands worked the pasta dough she had been making, but he would tell you that it was long enough for him realise what had been in his heart for a while. Because somewhere in between Cassie talking and laughing with her grandmother and their spirited rendition of the number he recognised as being Dean Martin that was playing loud enough through Cassie’s record player for her Nonna to hear, Colton understood what that recent feeling of homesickness had been. It wasn’t homesickness at all, it was love.

He wasn’t sure why the sight of Cass kneading pasta dough while Facetiming her grandma had made the penny suddenly drop for him. Perhaps it was the fact he could feel every bit of the love that this girl had for her Nonna, much like the love she had for every member of her family. Perhaps it was the fact that she had taken time out of her day to spend time listening to old jazz records with her grandmother just like she had when she was a child. Perhaps it was the fact that the woman in front of him was beautiful and intelligent and so unbelievably kind. But the truth and reality of it was that it was all of those things and above everything else, it was the peace and sense of belonging he felt whenever he was with her. It was having someone to be proud of and be proud of him in return and it was having someone to miss, having someone in his life who makes saying goodbye so hard. Cassie was all of those things and deep down Colton knew that he was those things for her too.

His feet must have heard the call from his heart that his head had not because before he could catch himself he was right behind her with his hand on her lower back, gentle and soft. She jumped slightly at the contact, not expecting him to be in her house for another twenty minutes.

“Sorry,” he laughed quietly before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “I figured I’d come over early and help but this all looks a little out of my ability range.”

“Guests don’t help the cook. Guests sit at the island, drink alcohol and mock those who are doing the cooking. Those are the rules” she grinned in reply.

“Mamma mia, Cassandra, cioè un bel giovanotto!”

Colton wasn’t entirely sure what Cassandra’s grandmother had said but whatever it was had Cassie groaning slightly and, unbeknownst to him, her face burning white hot.

“OK, ora riattacco il telefono,” Cassie groaned causing her Nonna to cackle wildly.

“Dagli un bacio per me!”

“Sei una cattiva signora,” Cassandra grinned before the pair said their goodbyes and she was closing the case on her iPad.

Cassie’s attention then turned to Colton who was leaning casually against the counter with an easy grin playing on his lips.

“So that was Nonna?” he asked.

“Yeah, that was Nonna,” Cassied laughed softly. “She was just checking in to make sure I wasn’t desecrating her spaghetti alla puttanesca recipe.”

“And were you?”

“Are you nuts? Do you know how angry Italians get when you don’t make their recipes properly? You might as well set fire to the flag.”

Colton barked a laugh at that, an impish little smirk on his face as he asked, “So cream in a carbonara would be a ‘no’?”

Cassie’s hands, which were rolling the dough ready for the pasta machine, stopped dead in their tracks, a look of abject horror on her face as she looked at Colton.

“Don’t even joke.”

“That’s one for the book then,” Colton grinned, referring to the little notebook sitting on his kitchen countertop that held all of his little tips and reminders he’d learned when it came to cooking, which Cassie found to be both hilarious and endearing in equal measure. “So your Nonna is okay?”

“Yeah,” Cass replied as she fed the pasta dough through the machine. “She said you were very handsome which is high praise indeed because unless it’s Dean Martin, Nonna doesn’t wanna know.”

Colton chuckled as he pushed away from the counter to fix them both a glass of wine.

“Your Nonna has good taste,” he smirked as he set Cassie’s full glass down beside her. “And what about you? Do you think I’m handsome?”

Cassie’s only reply was to suck air in through her teeth before giggling mischievously at the mock hurt on Colton’s face while his hand clutched at his chest.

“You’re wicked, you know that?”

“I get that from my Nonna too,” she laughed.

With Colton’s help, dinner was promptly served and Cassie asked Colton all about his recent trip while they ate. The first bottle of Barbera was soon empty and the pair were well on their way with the second one by the time their plates were clean of their food. Colton insisted on clearing the dishes away and loading them into the dishwasher, despite Cassie’s protests and soon enough they were both curled up on her couch with the glass pyrex dish Cass had used to make her tiramisu in and two spoons. The rest of the evening was spent in easy conversation, Cassie pressed into Colton’s side while his arm wrapped around her shoulders and held her against him. He couldn’t help the way his nose found the soft chocolate strands of her hair where her head rested heavily on his shoulder. They had been sitting in companionable silence for a while, with nothing but the smooth voice of Norah Jones filling the space between them but neither felt the need to speak, not because they didn’t have anything to say, but because there were no words that needed to be spoken, both content to just be there in that moment together.

That’s how it had been all along though, Cassandra thought as she listened to the steady beat of Colton’s heart beneath his strong chest. They had always been comfortable with just basking in the presence of each other, where nothing was forced or artificial. Every part of their relationship, from the moment Colton came to her rescue on the morning of her first day at work, to being in this moment with him now, felt natural and organic. It was easy to let him in and easier to open her heart and her life up to him and it was a trust that Colton gave back to her in spades. Cassie wasn’t sure if she really knew what love was, not having much of a positive experience of it herself and only having her parents’ and grandparents’ relationships to go off, but she believed that it had to be something just like this.

She wasn’t sure at what point she’d fallen asleep and she certainly wasn’t sure at what point she’d laid down with her head in his lap, but it was Colton’s gentle voice and the feeling of his fingers lightly carding through her hair that pulled her from the dream she was having, the memory of it slipping quickly away from her as she passed into the waking world.

“Cass? It’s almost midnight, πουλάκι μου… I gotta head home.”

He smiled softly as Cassie groaned while her eyes fluttered open slowly.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, the last little remnants of sleep still clinging to her voice.

“It’s okay, babe. I wish I didn’t have to go but I have some stuff that I need to do in the morning before practice.”

“Yeah,” Cass croaked as she sat up and moved so that Colton could stand. “Yeah, of course.”

She followed him out of the living area and down the hall to the front door, her eyes drifting immediately to the small bouquet of flowers and gift-wrapped package that sat on her console table.

“Colt?”

Colton followed her gaze to the gifts he’d brought with him.

“Ah shit, I completely forgot I’d even brought these. I heard voices when I let myself in and I guess I just got distracted.”

“You bought me flowers?” she asked as she picked the blooms up, smiling softly at the spray of freesias, peonies and baby’s breath before picking up the wrapped gift. “And what’s this?”

“Just a little something for when you come to the game,” Colton grinned as he slipped on his shoes before turning to face Cassie.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Colton said softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “But I wanted to.”

There was a brief pause before Colton leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to Cassie’s cheek, his smile warm and gentle as he pulled back and with a tone to match while he spoke.

“If you’re home tomorrow afternoon I’ll come over with coffee and pastries after practice.”

With Cassie’s agreement plans were made for the following day and Colton said his goodnight before heading back home, already missing her despite only being next door. As Colton got himself ready for bed he let himself think about Cass and the way he felt whenever he was with her. She gave him the safe space to just be and that was something Colton wasn’t sure he would ever have the words to thank her for. He’d dated enough since going professional to know that not all women were genuine and that in itself made it hard for him to find a meaningful connection, but things were different with Cassie. She had her own life, was successful in her own right and didn’t care about who he was or what he did for a living. Instead, she was supportive and listened to what he was telling her, really telling her, and she always seemed to know what to say and, most importantly, when to say it because for all Colton was always open to hear someone else’s perspective, there were times where he just needed to he heard.

Cassie not only gave him that but so many other things too. She was bright and witty, thoughtful and patient, kind and generous but above all of her wonderful qualities, she’d been an incredible friend to Colton. That friendship was one that he cherished and he knew it was something she cherished too, but rather than be rattled by the idea of that friendship potentially becoming something else, Colton embraced it because it was only what he knew to already be true between them. Their friendship had laid the foundations for them to build something truly wonderful and Colton knew that he was ready to take that leap, but more importantly, he knew that he’d be taking that leap with an amazing woman by his side, and so, as he climbed into bed and settled his head against the pillow, he resolved to tell her his truth when he saw her the following afternoon.

It was a little after 2pm when Cassie opened the door to Colton, the promised coffee and pastries clutched in his hands which she gratefully took from him as she invited him inside. She arranged the baked goods on a plate while Colton poured their coffees into mugs and shortly after they were settled on Cassie’s couch with her sat cross legged facing him and her back against the arm.

“How was practice this morning?” she asked after swallowing her first sip of coffee, a gentle look on her face as she surveyed Colton.

“Yeah, it was good. Coach worked us hard but it wasn’t too bad.”

“Good,” Cassie hummed from behind her mug, eyes narrowing slightly at the way Colton was cradling his mug with his brow slightly furrowed. “Is everything okay with you? You seem a little distracted.”

“I um, I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Colton replied as he set his mug down on the coffee table and turned his body to face her better. “About last night.”

Cassie set her own mug down, giving Colton her complete and undivided attention. She didn’t say anything else, instead giving him the time and space to get his thoughts in order and say what he needed to say.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever really told you just how thankful I am to have you in my life.”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice, yeah,” Cassie grinned, causing Colton to laugh softly and some of that tension he was carrying in his shoulders to melt away.

“Well I am,” he replied, tone filled with sincerity. “But I’ve been feeling like something has changed between us and I think it started not long after I’d gone home to Canada.”

Cassie exhaled and chewed on her lower lip slowly, not entirely sure where he was going with this but unable to stop the little pit of dread from opening up in her stomach. She didn’t speak though and so Colton continued.

“I missed you, more than words can say really and while I loved going home and seeing my family, there was a big part of me that couldn’t wait to get back to St Louis and for no other reason than because you were in St Louis and I realised then, that home is wherever it is that you are. Then last night, coming in here and seeing you talking and laughing with your Nonna, God, you’ve never been more perfect to me because all I could see was that love and passion that you have for your family and fuck, Cass, I wanna be a part of that. I want to be a part of your world. We’ve not been just friends for a while and I know that it’s because I’ve loved you for a while, last night just kind of confirmed to me what I already knew deep down.”

“Are you done?” Cassie asked with a straight face and Colton looked at her a little stunned before nodding apprehensively.

It took precisely 1.7 seconds for Cassie to close the distance between her and Colton and crash her lips against his, and another .5 of a second for Colton to catch up and move his hand to cup the back of her head while he kissed her back. They stayed that way for a few moments, their lips moving slowly together in perfect harmony as Cassie manoeuvred herself into Colton’s lap while her fingers busied themselves in his hair, long-overdue for a haircut but Cass found to be a look that suited him along with the short beard he’d grown.

She pulled away only once her lungs had begun their gentle protest for breath before pressing another, quicker kiss to his lips, Colton’s brow quirking as she devolved into giggles.

“What’s tickled you?”

“Nothing,” she grinned. “Just that second one was from Nonna. She told me to give you one from her.”

Colton couldn’t help but laugh at that and found himself wearing a grin to match Cassie’s, still smiling even as their lips met once more.

“God, I can’t wait to meet her, all of your family, actually.”

“You, Colton Parayko, are either incredibly brave or certifiably insane,” Cassie teased as she carded her fingers through his hair, the smile still bright on her face. “It’s a lot, you think you can handle it?”

“I know I can,” he replied, all cocky and confident with a sparkle in his eyes that reminded Cassie of the way the sun kisses the Mediterranean on a summer’s day.

“Good,” she grinned with that bright and beautiful smile that Colton loved so much. “Because one of the perks of loving me is that you inherit a weird, obnoxious family who will drive you completely crazy but who are the most generous and wonderful people you will ever meet.”

“I do love you,” Colton said, his tone soft and a million miles away from what it was not a moment ago. “And I want this, I want you and everything that comes with that because this? Us? It’s perfect and it’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Cassie kissed him, slow and sure and soft while her hands moved from their home in his hair to cup his face while her thumbs swept along the scruff at his jaw. It was a featherlight, her touch, but Colton felt it spread all through his skin until it had filled every single corner of his body and had him feeling both grounded and weightless all at once. He pulled back a shade to look into her eyes, those brown eyes of hers that held all the warmth of an everlasting hearth, as if they were the wood that could burn with golden flames and yet be forever perfectly entire. In those earthly hues was his soul, those eyes that were filled to the brim with the kind of beauty that expands a moment into a personal eternity, a heaven he wished to always be a part of. So lost in that astral plain as he was, he almost missed her words, but they were the kind of words that go beyond hearing. They were words that he felt, in the way that she looked at him, in the way that she touched him and in the way that she spoke his name and hearing them said out loud only confirmed what they both felt in their hearts and in their souls.

“I love you too, Colt.”

Colton couldn’t help the smile on his face as he connected his lips with hers once more, sighing into their kiss. That feeling was there again, that feeling that had been there all along, that peaceful, easy feeling of being at home and while neither of them knew for certain what the future would bring, they knew that they would be okay while they always had each other. Neither Cassie nor Colton had ever really experienced what it was like to be in complete and irrevocable love, but somewhere deep inside of them, despite not really knowing what it was that they should have been looking for, they knew that it was something just like this.

#colton parayko #colton parayko fic #nhl fic #nhl fiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl writing #hockey fic #hockey fiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey writing #something just like this fic #colt and cass #my writing

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clockworkhyena · 4 years ago

Text

The Thief and the Wolf

| Razor x Male! Reader |

"This could have gone a lot better," (M/N) muttered in a rather raspy voice before coughing, the feeling of water in his lungs preventing him from breathing properly. Not to mention he had sand on and in his soaking wet clothes which was not the most uncommon occurrence as a Hydro Vision user in all honestly it just usually wasn't accompanied by sand.

The traveler let out a yawn, partially covering his mouth as he did so before starting to wring out his clothes as best as he could so he didn't feel as heavy as he walking. He also took the time to wring out his hair as well before continuing as he was that confident he wouldn't be caught up with that quickly. He was in Wolfendom after all and not many knights would follow someone in there due to how dangerous it was.

"Gods, that was way too much trouble for only a hundred mora. That shopkeeper can make twice as much in a day, I don't see the issue with borrowing it." He sighed as he pulled out the pouch of mora he had taken, counting the coins to make sure he still had it all. "I could have left them broke." He grumbled to himself, spinning the bag by its drawstrings like a toy as he started to walk into Wolfendom. "But I can't go back into Mondstadt for a while."

He let out an exaggerated sigh deciding he should probably set up camp even though he really doesn't want to. Staying the night in Wolfendom is probably the stupidest thing he could do but he had already made up his mind and he was a stubborn individual even towards himself. (M/N) let out a bit of a huff as he started collecting sticks and dry plants to make himself a fire before he froze, extremely wary of his surroundings but lucky enough the hilichurls and slimes were already asleep for the most part. He just had to be quiet which he was exceptionally good at as a thief but it didn't make him any less nervous, never did.

He picked a broken wagon on the side of the road to use as shelter; it was the worst location but he would have shelter from the rain if it were to rain as he thought. The clouds have been pretty dark all day and he was expecting absolutely everything to go wrong tonight after that shit show of a steal. Although he was extremely hesitant to start a fire as it could gain unwanted attention but his fingertips were starting to look a bit blue.

He sighed in relief as he finally got the fire started and sat down under the tattered cloth of the ruined wagon, feeling the warmth of the fire against his skin. This was always his favorite part of the day, being able to sit down next to a fire and relax; relax as well as a wanted thief in the middle of a forest of monsters could but relax nonetheless. He sat in a position easy to stand from with his hand near the hilt of his sword just in case he needed it. For some reason, out of all the sounds in the woods, the howl of the hunting wolves made him feel easy. Maybe because of the stories he has heard of the wolves of Wolfendom. Or maybe just the lack of attacks by them.

(M/N) closed his eyes for what felt like a minute only to jump a bit at the sound of footsteps nearby, his hand immediately gripping onto his sword and shifting his eyes to look at where the footsteps were coming from. Yet he immediately started to relax a bit when he saw who it was; a boy his around his age with long messy silver hair and bright red eyes which were illuminated by the light of (M/N)'s fire. He carried a claymore that looked like (M/N) would struggle to get off the ground and sported quite a few scars on his pale skin. He didn't look like a knight but more like the boy he has heard in the stories of Wolfendom, the one raised by wolves.

"I want to guess you're Razor?" (M/N) asked, his voice stable but his hands held a lot of tension as they hovered over his weapon. The boy tilted his head curiously.

"You know Razor?" His English wasn't the greatest as he struggled through his sentences as a toddler would but that was something (M/N) was expecting; he was surprised he knew how to speak at all and wondered who taught him if he was truly raised by wolves.

"I heard some stories about you." (M/N) replied back, not being much of a talker towards people either; more specifically strangers.

"It's dangerous here alone. What is name?" Razor questioned him as he got a little closer, noticing how (M/N) seemed a little less cautious of him. "You soaked." He observed out loud as the thief's clothes hadn't dried yet.

(M/N) hesitated a bit as Razor walked closer but sense no ill intent towards him, not to mention Razor would have no idea of his crimes if he never went into the city. "(M/N). I just swam in a lake."

"Why would (M/N) swim in clothes?" Razor asked, joining (M/N) by the fire while still giving the other a fair amount of space between them.

"I wasn't planning on it," (M/N) huffed as he relaxed a bit more at Razor's friendly attitude towards him. Razor stared at (M/N) for a few moments, their eyes glancing over almost every part of his body and making him extremely uncomfortable. "What?"

"Nothing," Razor replied with a smile that just made (M/N) even more uncomfortable because he didn't know what he was thinking. Although, his smile did remind home of a puppy. "You traveler?"

"I suppose, I mean I don't have a home so I wonder." (M/N) muttered a bit but Razor was surprisingly still able to hear him. The unsurprising crackle of thunder rang out in the distance and the boy watched as Razor looked up at the sky. "Shouldn't you return to your family?"

"They know where. Razor not want to leave alone, that all." He spoke as if they were friends. "Wolfendom very dangerous alone and you seem lonely."

"I like being alone, for your information." (M/N) muttered, nervousness in his voice when the fire sizzled. It was starting to rain. He didn't like being in complete darkness but he didn't want to risk making a fire in the wooden and cloth wagon he was taking shelter under. Razor raised an arm over his head as if to protect himself from the rain as there was only so much his cloak’s hood could protect him from. He was adamant in respecting (M/N)'s space but refusing to leave. (M/N) stared at him for a moment, being a bit stubborn in letting the boy close to him but eventually gave in. He scooted over to make room next to him, "You can sit with me."

"Thank you," Razor thanked as he moved into the ruined, covered wagon and sat down next to (M/N), not giving him as much space as he would have liked. Razor continued to watch (M/N) every so often as if he wanted to make the other uncomfortable but (M/N) was too busy staring at the fire and watch it struggle to stay alive as the rain slowly picked up. "(M/N) afraid of dark?"

"What? No, of course not. I'm not a child," (M/N) was quick to react with the lie but Razor didn't seem very convinced as the (M/N)'s cheeks turned bright red as he spoke.

"Don't worry, Razor protect you," Razor smiled at him making (M/N) even more embarrassed than he already was. (M/N) wanted to retaliate but he did feel comforted by the fact he was so willing to protect him even from his irrational fears. "Want to wear coat? It will keep you warm." He was offering his coat, although his sentence itself was a bit vague.

"I'm fine." (M/N) grumbled under his breath but Razor took off his cloak and tried handing it to (M/N) anyways.

"Razor will not take no for answer. (M/N) could freeze" Razor replied sternly as he did his best to wrap the cloak around (M/N)'s shoulder without touching him. Razor himself lacked clothing that could keep him warm but at least he wasn’t completely soaked.

"You're overreacting, first of all. Secondly, why do you care? You don't know who I am,"

"(M/N), thief who travels the world, steal to survive," Razor smiled putting (M/N) completely off guard. "Heard stories about you too. Razor not know it was you until you said name. You swam in the lake because you got caught, right?"

"You're a lot smarter than I thought," (M/N) muttered nervously, averting his eyes.

"Don't like that you steal. If I take care of you, would you stop?" Razor asked.

"What do you mean?" (M/N) asked, his cheeks becoming flushed again.

"Feed you, give you shelter, protect you," Razor explained simply, his smile refusing to fade.

"I don't like relying on others," (M/N) grumbled, gripping onto Razor's cloak and bringing it closer to him as he watched the fire slowly get smaller. "But I do like the idea of having someone there for me. But frankly, I don't trust you."

"Then let Razor gain trust," Razor got a bit closer making (M/N) move away from him. "Razor want to help you."

(M/N) let out a heavy sigh, "I'll stay for a day and decide then."

"Thank you," Razor said gently headbutting (M/N) like a dog or cat would nuzzle someone. (M/N) was going to tell him off for it but the happiness in the other's scarlet eyes was hard to say no to. "I will give you a home."

#oneshot #genshin oneshot #genshin razor #genshin impact #genshin x male reader

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sassooda · 3 years ago

Text

Worlds Away / Chapter 40 - One in the Same 🔞

w/c - 6,476

“Love…”.

As Satoru positions himself back on the bed with a heavy heart, he wonders how long he’ll be without her voice. Elska lies there unconscious, in her own queen-sized bed a few feet away from Naoya who is also in the same condition but in a separate bed. The room Satoru mentioned to everyone before has become their new quarters but with his own personal flare. The five walls are a deep blue-grey, the trim a dark red, all decorative furnishings either that same red or a bright light blue. The sheets both of the sleepers are wrapped in resemble the color of love. This was all designed and put together as a surprise but things haven’t exactly gone as planned.

As he situates himself next to her, Gojo finds that he desires the comfort of her heartbeat. Laying his head on her chest, he relives the horrors of when he and Choso arrived to find them. He’s weighted with guilt, having become too distracted by his mother to focus that day. ‘What did they have to go through?’, he can only imagine having seen the scene himself. Although he wasn’t particularly bothered by the gore, Choso’s reaction said it all as normal people would easily have been mortified. Gojo’s heart also sinks from the sin of dealing with the woman who gave birth to him, even if she was monstrous herself.

“My love…”, his voice is broken from emotion as he whispers to her caringly, “Please come back to me.”. He’s been informed by Nanami and the others that Toji once found her in this same state, taking 6 days to wake up previously. This information doesn’t comfort him however after perceiving the devastation her, Naoya and Toji must have experienced. ‘…and we still haven’t found him yet.’. Satoru knows for a fact that if she wasn’t mentally compromised from the attack, not having Toji will certainly destroy her.

He positions her arms to lay over him, as if she’s wrapping them around his own. Gojo is still reeling from his own experiences that day on top of everything else. The heartache that dwells within him after killing his mother plagues him as if she still existed, only differently. “Love, I didn’t know it would hurt.”. A tear spills from each of his darkened eyes, remembering the vexation that woman caused him for his entire life. There certainly wasn’t any love lost between them but a piece of him died with her and he can’t explain why. In this moment, he only needs to be held by his love. As he listens to the rhythm in which her heart pumps, he feels like he’s brought to a point of necessary, although temporary ease. Bringing her even closer lowers him deeper into security, feeling safe and nurtured by her touch alone. Her and Naoya have only been out for roughly 18 hours at this point, leaving him to also dread how much time he’ll be without her.

**KNOCK, KNOCK**

Without moving at all, Satoru calls for them to enter and sighs as he feels close to losing his composure. He decides to not hide his despair for lack of current ability.

Choso quietly strolls in and takes in Satoru’s depression. He’s apprehensive about how unstable Gojo’s been since coming back to the academy but appreciates how much the man is going through. A slight grin appears across Choso’s face though as he looks over Gojo’s clothes, they’re both wearing their group-matching pajamas. Upon approaching Naoya, Choso pulls back the covers to further evaluate him, wanting to be sure all wounds were healed. He says to his friend, “You are one fortunate man…”, and pulls the sheets up with a smile. He then takes Naoya’s hand with relief on mind, understanding that Naoya will likely be happy at the fact that he was turned. Choso has reservations about this but they’re not strong enough for him to speak on.

Megumi now enters and walks straight over to Elska, on the opposite side from Gojo. He’s still in a state of shock after being filled in on the aftermath. He’s in a foul disposition not knowing where Toji is and is even further upset with how messed her and Naoya looked upon being retrieved. When he reaches out to take up Elska’s hand, his is swatted away, causing him to lower deeper into his anger.

“Leave her alone.”, Gojo growls from Elska’s chest. He immediately feels bad for snapping at Megumi but that was the only warning he was capable of. The hurt displayed on his former student’s face that he catches out of the corner of his eyes prompts him to sit up a little. “I’m sorry Megs, I just… she’s mine.”.

Megumi is feeling disheartened by his current fears on his father’s whereabouts and feels almost completely alone as he drowns in his thoughts. The territorial stance made on Elska causes him to snap, “She is her own person, you’re fucking delusional!”. As his breath catches in his throat, he waits for Satoru to respond maliciously but becomes confused when he doesn’t. ‘I just want to make sure she’s ok…’.

Choso walks over to Megumi and speaks with purpose, “Please let Gojo have time with her, he’s been through a lot…”, and nods as if to reiterate there still are things Megumi is unaware of. Choso sees the discontent on Megumi’s face and can feel the boy’s presence fluctuating so he continues, “And we will find Toji, I promise you. He loves you, you know…”. He watches Megumi’s eyes become glossy as he tries to fend off the tears so Choso hugs him. “I’m sure he’s ok, we just have to get to him…”.

Megumi usually wouldn’t accept the embrace but he feels so incredibly small and useless. He finds Choso’s need to comfort him endearing and wishes he’d been kinder to the being in the past, knowing now how well he means. “I…I miss my dad…”, he meant for it to be a statement but the clarification is muddled by the sorrow in his voice and it only strengthens as Choso continues to try and soothe him.

“Just come back later Megs…I know you’re worried too…”, Satoru doesn’t make eye contact but his voice is genuine. “I just need to be with her right now…”. He now curls back up into Elska and sighs deeply. “She would be angry if I kept everyone from her…”, and Satoru knows this is a fact but is still not budging on the current meeting.

Megumi wasn’t expecting Gojo to offer time up so he doesn’t know how to respond. With a fake scoff he replies, “I will then.”, and heads towards the door. Before leaving he stops and turns around to face them once more, “Shoko is awake now and she wants to see you Gojo.”, then shuts it behind him.

Satoru is aware that they have a prisoner underneath the school and Shoko likely has important information to give to him, he just hasn’t the motivation to move. He buries his face into Elska further, wanting to escape his current duties and pretend they’re just napping together. “Please come back.”.

After a few seconds, Choso exhales, “I’m glad Shoko’s alright.”. After being teleported to Elska’s location, he had to carry her back through his portal while Gojo grabbed Naoya. Choso immediately began to heal Naoya after they returned to the academy but they were soon met with Nanami who requested him to see to Shoko’s head injuries as well. Choso recalls that while he was navigating through his shadow realm that Elska’s energy once again lingered behind them and even seemed to stain some of the surroundings. He’s always been curious as to why hers behaves differently than everyone else. While lost in his thoughts, he’s jolted back to the present as Gojo begins to cry next to Elska.

“Gojo…”, Choso was caught off guard but feels he needs to allow privacy as he doesn’t know what to do. The terrifying Silver Shaman condenses before him, leaving a new wave of misery within his very being. Choso’s still shaken up by the events that took place with everyone and has yet to properly deal with the emotions flowing through him. He glances over to Naoya for a second and then internally declares he will return later. He hears Gojo plead for him to wait so he turns around and utilizes patience as Satoru collects himself.

“We…We have to find Toji.”, Satoru finds himself worried with the possibilities that could be his friend’s fate. Choso nods so he says, “Please, please search for him.”. Gojo looks down at Elska who has yet to show signs of waking, “For both of their sakes, we need to get him back.”. Now darting cold eyes to back to Choso, “I will kill whoever I need to. I will fucking explode every last one of them. This is what they deserve.”. Satoru’s eyes narrow as he thinks of who this Genghis is and how that man is likely responsible for organizing the horrific event. ‘He at least helped Getou…’.

Choso felt a chill crawl down his spine while listening to Gojo. ‘He very well means it.’, crosses his mind but he’s actually reinforced by the statement because he has his own revenge that occupies the same goal. He straightens himself while looking at Satoru, “We will find them and we will end them.”. Choso now brings his gaze to Elska for the first time and finds his dark thoughts fading, beginning to feel consumed by irrational emotions that stem from her condition as well. He has this completely visceral knot that tells him to remain near her but he can’t justify why so he thinks its best not go far at least. “I’m going to try some mapping but I’ll be nearby if needed…”, Choso now reluctantly opens the door and leaves.

Snuggling back into Elska, Satoru closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing. “Everything’s so fucked up, love.”, he regretfully informs her as she sleeps. Wanting to be even closer to her, he now takes her right leg and hoists it over himself. He pulls down the front of her slip but only so he can her skin against his cheek. “They will pay for this…”, he seethes as he thinks about the new trauma her and Naoya had to live through at the hands of the Titers. “Genghis and Getou…”, his partnered enemies. He opens his eyes to slight movement. “Love?”. Slowly she begins to stir more, moving her legs and arms to in an attempt to regain awareness. Satoru hurriedly sits up and looks down to her with endearing hope.

Elska is coming to already and smiles sweetly once she opens her eyes to see Satoru. “My sweet Sati…”, she raises her arm to hold his cheek, only now detecting his anxieties. This realization triggers her though as the ominous memories play back in her mind. She instantly screams at the top of her lungs and is sent into a hysterical state once again. She doesn’t know that she’s flailing around during this until she feels Satoru anchor his body around her to prevent her from harming herself. She struggles against him though as she continues to wail. “THE CHILDREN!”, rips through the room and Satoru understands kids must have been present in the attack.

Satoru whimpers regrettably and holds her while her heart breaks. As her cries echo the otherwise silent room, he feels his heart responding, “My love, I’m so sorry…”. He rests his chin above her head as she begins to settle, although her sobs are still incredibly fierce. Her breath can be felt against his chest and neck as she heaves air in this dismantled state. He squeezes her tighter and reminds her, “I’m here love, I’m here. You’re safe now…”. He begins to tear up too as her voice goes silent and strains to make a high-pitched, fading squeak, the fact that she’s as broken as he assumed absolutely wrecking his confidence on the matter but he repeats, “You’re safe now.”, and kisses the top of her head. Satoru notices how strong her presence is and thinks that the whole campus should be aware of her waking.

Choso heard and felt her so he runs back into the room. “ELSKA!”, he continues his pace to the side of the bed where Megumi was and sits down. The sounds that leave her compel him to place a hand on her side as she’s still overlapped by Gojo. She seems to respond to him and calms down slightly but with wide and teary eyes he looks to Gojo who’s just as unnerved by the situation. He hears her say, “They made Toji…kill. They crushed…Getou…he crushed the children…”, and to these words, a tear falls from the beings face. ‘Getou has no qualms with killing innocents…’, but he keeps this information to himself while deciding he should share the tragedy of his brothers eventually.

Elska is slowly comprehending that the horrible sights behind her eyes are of the past but is still riddled with mourning. Understanding that the men have no idea of what all happened she forces herself to compose the best she can and tries to sit up. Satoru only took a second to understand so he is soon helping her. She remembers everything from the attack, which is different than how it’s happened in the past. With weary and swollen eyes, she looks at the two before her and says, “They tried to kill Naoya…”, she glances between Satoru and Choso, “His heart actually stopped.”, the fear of her prince dying reclaims its stance. “He blocked the spear meant for me…”, she looks over and sees him there laying motionlessly and begins to panic.

Choso can see her apprehension as her eyes drift to Naoya and says, “He’s right there Elska”, and grabs her hand as he can only imagine how awful that was, “He is stable and with new energy.”. Her eyes light up but then become watery again as she quietly speaks, “But they took Toji with t…them couldn’t protect both…”, and feels his lips quiver as she deteriorates before them again. Choso’s hand is now on her leg so he brushes the spot to provide additional security. “Knowing that helps, I will find him Elska.”.

Satoru feels Megumi and Itadori approaching the room so he yells, “NOT RIGHT NOW!”, and becomes satisfied when they stop. Looking back to Elska he grabs her shoulders and kisses her forehead, “Love I am going to fix all of this.”. He lifts her chin to him and with complete determination radiating from his eyes, “Everything is going to be ok. I will show no mercy.”, and she seems to be consoled by the darkness exuding him. He kisses her cheek and whispers, “We will paint the city with their blood.”.

Elska feels like his dark nature is nurturing her very soul. In a strange wave of reassurance, the calamity within her lessens so she finally begins to settle into him. While closing her eyes and taking a deep but jagged breath however, the familiar voice ricochets through her.

‘FEED FROM THE HYBRID’

Her eyes jolt open and she slowly turns her head towards Choso who’s still sympathetically rubbing her leg. She questions if she should but understands there is a reason she’s being prompted to do so.

‘YOU WILL SOON BE WHOLE’

With a mousey voice, “Sati?”, she feels through his chest, his “Yes my love?”, and pulls away from him, “I need to feed from Choso.”.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea love, why would you say that?”, Satoru is afraid that she will repeat history and is adamant about making things better not worse. He looks over to Choso who shares his reluctance and eyes him in a way to warn that it isn’t going to happen. “Love what if you lose control?”, he doesn’t understand what she could be thinking but fears it doesn’t matter as her eyes begin to glow. “Love…”.

Elska adjusts herself to her knees and holds her own body, “I think the other me is me.”. When she looks up to them both she can tell they’re confused by that but she proceeds, “I have to do it.”. She launches herself over top Choso and pins his arms down, “Choso I’m so sorry!”. She sees that Satoru has warped to that side of the bed in an attempt to reach her so she growls. He seems to be hurt by this so she adds, “JUST TRUST ME!”, and feels less anxious as he slowly pulls his hands away from her.

Choso’s in shock beneath her, not being sure as to why this is happening or if he should fight her or not. He darts his scared eyes to Gojo fearing that this won’t go over well but is confused as the Silver Shaman seems to retract. He now looks at Elska and can tell she’s not liking how she placed him in this position and suddenly feels at ease. ‘Was this why I wanted to stay?’. He nods to her and lays back down into the bed as her fangs pierce him shortly afterwards. Choso instantly moans and latches onto her, feeling one of his bent legs touching the floor kick out reflexively. She whimpers near his ear and it causes him to melt in place while she pulls from him. After a few seconds her left hand laces into his hair and grips the strands to pull his head more to the side, him closing his eyes and complying. She soon is grinding against him, exuding pleasurable noises which would have been his main focus if her presence wasn’t darkening so rapidly.

Gojo is cautiously monitoring the situation and feels he should stop it when her gestures turn sexual. Hearing her moan seductively into Choso leaves a bad taste in his mouth but remembers he chose to trust her. He knows this is the other Elska now but her words haunt him, “I think the other me is me.”, bringing him into a new state of contradiction as he thinks about how he’ll handle this if shit hits the fan. As he watches her free hand sail from Choso’s chest to underneath her he can’t help himself, “LOVE!”.

Elska grabs Choso’s member and squeezes it. She hears him quietly yelp and hums to his growing as she begins to fondle him further but eventually stops and closes the being’s puncture marks. ‘FOCUS’. Sitting herself over him she inhales deeply before looking down, “It’s incredible, how arousing your blood is…”, and manically looks down to his flushed expression, “…but it makes sense.”. She can tell Satoru reaching out behind her so she quickly grabs his wrist and flings him overhead and onto the bed next to Choso. She relishes in the shaman’s surprise to her strength and chooses to say in the lowly voice, “My favorite human…”, and grinds on Choso again instinctively, meaning the gesticulation for Satoru. Before either of them can say anything she continues, “She is right, we are one in the same…”. Still feeling overcome with desire she takes Satoru’s left hand and forces it upon her breast and whimpers when he grabs it. ‘FOCUS’, cascading through her mind. “They took my beloved but I believe they were meaning for me. I became too confident and played with the Titers, I was having fun.”. She feels the anger race across her expression as the failure surges within her again. “When the mind was repressed, we split into two in order to salvage as much as possible.”, she looks to Satoru with devious eyes, “We would’ve slowly gone mad otherwise.”. Neither of them are speaking, giving her the floor so she turns her glowing gaze to Choso, “You and I are almost exact in product, we were just born differently…I am half curse as well.”.

Choso’s eyes widen to this immensely as many pieces fall into place. Her energy that lingers, her ability to sense the darkness within him, the fact that his blood fuels her. He breaks his gaze with Elska to turn to Satoru who seems to be thinking but isn’t overly sharing his true feelings on the matter. Her presence increases rapidly again so he quickly looks back to her and becomes afraid as she licks her lips at him. She says, “If Sati wasn’t here, I’d take you right now…”, and he feels her hand caress the side of his face but holds his breath not knowing what that exactly meant. ‘Does she mean…’, and looks down at his lap as she sinks her weight into him. He cries out, “Elska NO!”, but feels himself being pinned by her again.

“Elska…”, Satoru is not sure as to what is going on but knows he should tread lightly with his disgust of her harboring secret desires for Choso. She looks to him expressionlessly but the attention was enough, “…Love, I’m sorry for doing this to you.”, he feels the shame in his heart and almost as if she could read his mind she says, “This was a war waged far before you were born sweet Sati. My ancestors and those of the Zenin and Titer clans started this centuries ago. A tragic love story…”. While still remaining her eyes on Satoru, “A Zenin once loved a woman from the Oda clan but their union was rejected for her clan’s lack of status. Oda’s were not inherently shaman and suffered in servitude to the major clans for this and many other reasons. An intelligent and unusually empathetic curse heard their plight and decided to offer them a deal. The Oda’s would evolve, allowing them capabilities of harnessing cursed energy. The heartbroken woman accepted without understanding what would be waged allowing the curse to manifest itself into fragments to take form in every Oda. The Titers, who were then one of the major clans, saw this as a threat and manipulated the time continuum to relocate the Oda’s to a place where they would not have to fear their dark powers.” She exhales, “The curse’s stipulations were for the Oda’s to end humanity by turning them into similar but lesser beings which would eventually allow the curse to take physical form once again.”. Gojo is left in awe by this explanation. ‘A Zenin?’, and turns his head to Naoya and contemplates on the unexplainable connection Elska and Naoya have always had. He realizes something and tells her, “The Zenin’s want you apart of their clan this time…”, his eyes unfasten completely, “…The Titers do too now.”, he thinks of his mother’s words that confirmed they want to breed with her.

“Yes but they foolishly misunderstand their place. The Titers never have and never will be able to control me. Their thoughts otherwise on this are contrived.”. Elska now thinks of Suguru. “I drank from Getou and learned a great deal, he’s merely their powerful puppet. I believe I placed enough doubt in his mind though, if he’s worth anything he will realize his own will.”. Choso and Gojo both wear expressions of mortification that she ignores, “If he ends up agreeing with his clan then I’ll be forced to act however.”, She grins frenziedly, “They do not properly comprehend that their fate rests on my whims.” Her eerie smile fades, “What they’ve done however, I will require lives to pay for it.”. She looks over to Naoya and winces to the reminder that he suffered greatly, “My prince will soon awaken. His DNA synthesis rapidly took course and it was unlike anything we’ve ever seen…”. Merely gazing upon her blonde lover quells her strength, “He has an adverse effect on my existence, he drains me of my ability to stay in this form…”, she looks back to Choso, “…which is why I need to become whole. You can make this possible.”.

Gojo is trying to make sense of this new information and is categorizing his brain for this purpose. When her eyes meet his own again she grins and says, “I will have you too when the time is right. You’re a variable in all of this, the Gojo’s have never had a turned amongst their ranks and with your innate power, I am hesitant to expose you to this needlessly. In theory I will be your master but your soul particularly is already so darkened that I am forced to question what your nature will be.”. Satoru has never discussed becoming like her but a small part of his heart is mended knowing that he’s not left out of her collection. “Love, I would be willing if you saw fit.”, he removes his hand from her breast and brings it to her face. She seems to like being addressed this way which cements the fact for him that they really both are Elska. ‘She refers to me as Sati too.’.

Elska abruptly dips back down into Choso’s neck and bites him again. His cursed blood reanimates through her veins and feels herself growing even stronger. The thought of wiping out the Titers and rescuing her beloved mix with the sensations the being gives her causing her to moan deeply. She feels him growing more underneath her again and smiles into him and wishes that she didn’t need his permission to turn him.

‘HE IS NOT READY YET’

Despite her current ecstasy, she yanks her head up and huffs with annoyance before closing the wounds. “Sometimes I grow fucking tired of your voice.”.

‘Who is she talking to?’, Choso feels his brow furrow as he recalls the other times she seemed to speak to no one. He’s reading that she’s now agitated and wonders if he shouldn’t make a break for it soon. He thinks about Naoya and Toji, how they would be losing their shit if they were witnessing this and doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Gojo’s wrath either.

“You need not run…”, Elska sighs to the obvious hesitation from Choso and maneuvers herself off of him and stands. “I will not turn either of you right now for our efforts should be placed into retrieving my beloved.”. Gojo warps behind her and spins her around and she feels his arms embrace her. With confusion she asks, “Do you not fear me, Sati?”.

Satoru chuckles into her hair, “Oh I fear you…I just love you as well.”, and is surprised when this dark Elska relaxes into him. ‘She loves monsters because she is one too…’. He knows this thought would likely terrify anyone else but he feels a new bond has been created between them in this moment and reminds her, “I know you feared me but you also never let me go.”. He inhales her scent begins to sway them, “You’re my love.”. He wonders as well who she meant that random statement to but doesn’t feel the need to press her for more information as he’s still working through what was just laid out.

Being so close to Satoru, feeling his body heat and breath brings Elska back to her arousal she’s been fighting for the sake of communication. She bites his chest through his shirt and rakes her nails down his back as he whimpers. She can taste his own excitement and decides that enough was said.

Gojo feels himself being pushed onto the bed and watches Choso jump up to standing. Elska straddles him and tears her slip open before glaring down and demanding, “Remove your shirt.”. He hastily does as he’s told while admiring how frightening her mannerisms are. When she leans down to kiss him, she lifts her weight from his lap and growls, “Your clothing is still in the way.”, to which he shimmies the waistband to his thighs, allowing his hardened flesh to make contact with her bare skin. He quickly finds Choso who is standing a few feet away with his jaw slacked open, “Cho-…”, she covers his lips and aligns herself with Satoru’s erection and says, “Do not concern yourself with him whilst I fuck you.”. He then feels her wet warmth slide down his shaft and groans loudly into her palm as she felt amazing. She pins his arms over his head against the mattress and proceeds to thrust herself into him passionately. When she gasps to using him, he feels a long-forgotten desire to tame her. Suddenly Gojo experiences his own switch as she continues to bounce herself on him. He breaks an arm free and sends his hand to her throat, squeezing it as he pulls her face down to his. When she bites her lip with arrogant eyes, he understands that she’s hoping he’ll fight back for dominance and whispers into her lips, “I will have you begging me to stop.”.

Elska grins to the confirmation but all of the sudden finds Satoru is no longer below her. “Try your best, you will not break me.”, she teases in her lowly voice as she recognizes his presence behind her. She hears Gojo say, “Choso, find me something to tie her up with.”. She looks to Choso who seems to not understand why so she smiles, “Do as he says.”. Satoru now wraps a hand around her throat again and pulls her back to where she’s on her knees and feels his erection rubbing against her. She tries to angle herself so she could feel him again but fails. She huffs disapprovingly but is soon met with his grith spreading her, leaving her crying out in lust. He leans down by her ear while he seats himself completely, “Love, is that what you wanted?”, and snickers as he rams her a few times.

Choso is finding the request made of him to be completely outlandish. ‘She shouldn’t be tied up!’, he now hears Satoru thrusting into her and feels uncomfortable with witnessing it in person. What he cannot ignore though is his own throbbing while he scurries to find anything that can be used for restraints. While searching through the drawers he comes across a scarf and quickly throws it over to Gojo without looking at them. His eyes take to Naoya in the other bed and he frowns to the situation at hand but knows there’s nothing he can really do to stop Elska. It was clear to him that she initiated and wanted to further down this adventure with Satoru. He looks over to them finally and looses his breath as he’s met with her alluring eyes. ‘Does she want me to stay?’, he questions internally hoping he was wrong. “Elska?”, he asks in a small voice, becoming mesmerized with how she’s staring into him.

Gojo pushes Elska down into the bed and brings her arms to fold neatly behind her back. “Like old times…”, he teases wantonly as he secures the scarf around her forearms and wrists. He nudges her body forward so he can sit on his knees behind her and admires her body as he postures himself over her legs. With his left hand he grabs himself up to rub into her folds, moaning to the visible evidence that he’s going to be able to go wild. He notices Choso run out of the room and chuckles while gliding into her fully, “I guess he didn’t want to watch. Smart move.”, and begins pound into her relentlessly as she moans into the sheets. He grabs her throat again with his right hand to pull her back towards him and says, “That’s right love, you will take this dick and you will fucking like it.”, and slaps her ass with his left. “I am going to conquer you all over again…”, he hisses as he pulls on her waist to make sure there’s not a single inch of him missing out. She cries out, “YES!”, which causes him to tighten his grasp on her throat from the rush it sent through him while he delivers deep thrusts. He whimpers to how she feels contracting around him and takes notice to her body’s response as he continues through her orgasm. “Already, huh?”, the accomplishment fills him with pride and he expresses it by still crashing into her as she falls apart. After a harsh few minutes, he slows down in an attempt to caress her internally. “Mmmm…”, he hums to how slippery her walls have become as she pants in front of him. “Perhaps my love wants to be controlled?”, he slaps her rear again with his left hand before regaining his grip on her hip. She lowly gasps, “Please try!”, which makes him say, “I am going to destroy you…”. He decides to warp in front of her and watches her body fall into the mattress. He grabs her hair and assists her in lifting her head while tilting his chin to the side and mocking, “The scary little Elska…”, she opens her mouth so he sends himself down her throat, “…gagging on my dick.”. He works his hips into her as expected tears roll down her face. When he removes himself to allow her air, he sighs to her saliva coating her breasts, causing them to glisten every so often. To his surprise she seductively moans and challenges, “Is that all you’ve got?”, which causes him to grunt as he traces her lips with his tip. He replies, “You should know me better than that.”, and proceeds to thrust into her mouth again. When she chokes on him, he throws his head back and furrows his brow while gasping, “My sexy little Elska…”.

Feeling his grip in her hair as he harshly stretches her throat fills her with exhilaration. There are reasons as to why he is so special to her and this depravity he harbors is one of them since it mirrors a part of her nature. She looks up to him the best she can as her muscles convulse to his motions and loves the dominating way in which he treats her. ‘Nobody has ever been so brave.’, she thinks as she gags. He removes himself from her mouth again but drags his member along her face which makes her whimper with anticipation. He says, “I can’t finish until I’ve opened everything.”, and she shivers to his voice as it was chilling, knowing he’s going to take her in every way he can. He warps behind her again but is maneuvering her to lay on her left side. She tries to adjust in a way that makes her arms more comfortable but he slaps her thigh and says, “Don’t squirm now love, it’s too late for that.”.

Satoru bends her legs up towards her chest so he could have unobstructed access. Spreading his kneeing stance, he leans over her to grab her throat again while he begins to nudge her second entrance. “You are mine to fuck and so is this ass.”, and groans down to her as he feels himself slowly making progress. He loves how her face morphs into pleasure the deeper he goes and wonders, ‘Has she liked this all along?’, but is soon taken out of thought as she gasps to being further parted. He releases her throat to lean back and stabilize himself with her hip, wanting to watch himself submerge into her. “Look at you love, taking me so well…”, she cries out heatedly and he bites his lip as he backs out to start the process over. He drops some of his own saliva down where they meet and works himself in deeper, becoming completely swallowed by her. “Such a good girl…”, he breathlessly whines as their eyes meet. “…Take it all…”, and begins to set a rhythm. As he increases his force she cries out “YES SATI”, and smiles with parted lips as she’s forced to endure him. He’s watching her skin ripple and wave out from his impact and it nearly makes him come undone having the knowledge that she’s enjoying this. He pulls out of her to take in the sight of her mess and rolls her onto her stomach. After making his way back in, he leans his body to hover over hers while he continues to pound through her.

Elska is completely under his control but is rather thrilled by how rough he is being. Through her moans she tries to tell him that it’s coming but before she can, the pheromones release into the room. She turns her head and sees Satoru’s face next to hers as he fills his lungs and moans, his motions halting while he does. She hears him say, “You must love it when I fuck you like this…”, and picks up his pace again. While gasping she’s able to say, “I want more!”, and her eyes roll back when gives her exactly that. She can tell by his breathing that he’s nearing his end so she arches her back underneath him as if to present she was ready to be a pretty display. His thrusts after that became full and deep with each stroke until she feels him twitch and begin to settle. He opens her legs to guide her onto her back while remaining inside of her. The look on his face is breathtaking and she can sense his relief as he slowly nudges through her a few more times.

While holding her ankles and leaning his hips into her, he brings his gaze from her face to where they’re connected and grunts to how pleasing the sight is. He leans down to kiss her feverishly as he comes to terms with his affections for Elska as a whole and says, “I love all sides of you…”, into her lips. He leans back up so he can watch his contents spill from her after he pulls out and moans when it’s even more beautiful than he imagined. Rolling her back onto her stomach he reaches down to undo her binds and finds their lips meeting as soon as she was free.

She slides her tongue into his mouth passionately and they moan into each other again. When she breaks away she says in her lowly voice, “I don’t have much time left like this but one day I will be whole. Let’s see if you can overpower me then.”, and brushes her thumbs across his cheeks. “I will be a blend of all attributes but I can promise I’ll want more of this.”. Her eyes feel heavy now as she feels her state diminishing, “I will have to sleep again but I will return to normal when I wake. Will you…”, she hesitates, “…will you bring me to sleep next to Naoya?”. She’s taken back by his kind smile as he lifts her up into his arms. They sway as he uses his knees to bring them to the edge of the bed and they nearly fall over as he works to swing his legs out to the floor.

They laugh together as he awkwardly finds his balance but he feels her sincerity as he walks them over to Naoya. “You can rest easy love and I’ll clean you up…”, he tells her as he lowers her down next to the sleeping Zenin. Her eyes are quickly losing their glow as she lays there and wraps her arms around Naoya’s left one, so he knows she’s going to be out here soon. “Love?”, she brings her hazy gaze to him, “We will find Toji, I swear it’s my priority.”. She smiles and thanks him before saying, “I’m glad to know he’s important to you as well Sati. Please, locate my beloved…he needs me…”. While he was forming his next words she closes her eyes and falls asleep instantaneously. “Love, I will make this world work for you…”, and leans down to kiss her once more. He stands upright again to find something to wash their wonderful experience with. After wiping her down he crawls in the bed and uses the slightest bit of space given to make his own spot, wanting to be next to her. He ponders on what she said earlier about the curse’s will to replace humanity and smiles into her neck, “I don’t much care for humans either…whatever your endgame is, we will succeed.”.

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youralwaysandforever · 4 years ago

Text

the Malfoy bride

Draco Malfoy x Female!Reader

disclaimer; English is not my first language, I am sorry for any mistakes!

summary: you have been engaged to the Malfoy heir since the moment you have been born, although you had never met him. Just when the Second Wizarding War has been officially declared, you have been sent to Britain to finally marry Draco Malfoy, and live with him. (set during the Deathly Hallows Part 1)

warning: strong language, sensitive content (such as panic attacks, violence), graphic sexual scenes.

I had hated the Manor since I had arrived, it had been gloomy, brad, unwelcoming, and lonely. I hadn’t been allowed to leave my chambers. I have been a prisoner in the place that should feel like my home. Draco had rarely visited me, and I have been here for almost two months.

It had been early September (1997), I had been in the library, the only other place, I have been permitted to go. Suddenly, the doors burst open, I promptly stood up, my wand in my hand, pointing towards the doors.

“It’s just me”, he uttered and I exhaled heavily, before collapsing onto the carpet. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I thought that you-”, I shook my head and sat back on the couch.

“You thought that I had been someone else?!”, I only nodded, I hadn’t expected him to sit next to me, but he did. “Has somebody approach you?”, I just sighed.

“I hear echoes throughout the hallways, screamings”, I brought my knees to my chest hugging them. I had been wearing only a satin nightdress, I haven’t found the reason to wear anything but my sleepwear, since I hadn’t been going anywhere else besides my room, and the library.

“This arrived today”, he let out and I raised my eyes to meet his, he had been holding a letter, “It is from your mother”

I hastily opened it and read its content, she had been alive, she would be going to America to stay with our relatives there till the War would end. Typical mother. She hadn’t even asked if I had been alright or if I had wanted to go with her, she had only cared for herself. I stood and threw the letter in the fireplace, staring it as the flames destroyed it.

“This bloody war sucks”, I groaned and I heard Draco chuckling, he had been watching me, his blonde hair falling in his forehead, his grey eyes darkened, and a glass of scotch on his hand. “Where had you been?”, he seemed to be taken aback by my question.

I approached him slowly, his eyes had been studying my moves, I raised my dress, so I wouldn’t step on it, and sat on his lap. He eyed me before wrapping both his arms around my waist, pressing me closer to him.

“You shouldn’t ask where I had been”, he muttered as his eyes landed on my lips, “It isn’t safe for you”, I put a hand on his chin before I leaned forward and kissed him. He immediately kissed me back.

We have kissed before, on the day of our wedding, on the after party, and about a week ago when he hadn’t been sure if he would come back from some mission. We hadn’t been in love with each other but we simply offered each other comfort, closure. Unlike the pecks we shared before, this kiss had been overwhelming, I could feel everything, every single emotion of his, the passion, the lust, the anger, the distress, and the fear.

He suddenly picked me up and laid me over the fluffy carpet in front of the fireplace. Our mouths attached. His hands pushed the straps of my nightdress down, and he rolled my very hard nipples with his fingers as his lips worked on my neck. I moaned and arched my back as soon his tongue began tasting my nipple, he then yanked the fabric of my dress further down and removed his jacket while I literally tore his shirt open. We worked together undoing his pants, the moment they had gone out of the away, he made me sit in his lap again, and I slowly lowered myself on him, taking him in. I heard him hissing and then his teeth grazed on my shoulder. We had been moving in sync, which had been the best feeling in the world, he kissed me, I kissed him. My hands traced his gorgeous muscles while his had been squeezing my bum roughly. I had been close and he had to be feeling it, because, then he changed our positions lying me across the carpet and trust in me brutally, my fingernails scratched his back. We moaned so loud, when we orgasmed, I had been sure the entire Manor had heard us but I hadn’t care at that moment.

Without releasing we had fallen asleep on the carpet, Draco had conjured a couple of pillows and a blanket to cover us. We had just stayed lying together, naked, my head on his chest and his arms around me for the first time in months, I felt that we have been married, that we have been belonged to each other now.

“Kiara”, he muttered against my hair, I lifted my head to face him and he smiled to me, “Wanna go to bed?”

He had asked the most simple thing but for a reason, I could help but widely smile at him, I pecked his lips and when he opened his eyes and stared at each me, I felt something burning inside me, my magic, as if it had changed somehow.

It had been several weeks since we had fucked at the carpet of the library, Draco and I have been spending every night together. He would usually have to attend a meeting with the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort in the evenings but the nights had been ours.

Tonight; I had to attend a dinner with them as wife of Draco, I had been afraid to be in the presence of You-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but I had no choice.

I had been wearing a long, backless, sleeveless, silver dress which had been chosen by Narcissa Malfoy, my mother-in-law, and had been extremely well-fitted on me. I had matched it with a pair of black stilettos and long silver-rose diamond earrings. While my long hair had been beautifully fixed up by the Malfoy house elf.

I have been about to step out of my chambers when I sensed a powerful protecting spell being cast around the room. I grasped my wand and pointed at the door but I lowered because Draco walked inside dressed in the most sexy dark grey tuxedo.

“You look ravishing”, I smirked and approached him seductively, making sure to show the cut in the side of my dress.

“Your mother picked it”, he dragged me to his arms and grinned against my lips.

“Then perhaps my mother doesn’t want us to attend the dinner after all”, he smashed his lips on mine and I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed myself closer to him.

He suddenly hoisted me up, I unconsciously secured my legs around him, and then he walked towards the bed. He laid me down onto the bed and hovered over me, trailing his tongue along my neck, and shoulders. Draco found my sensitive spot behind my ear and bit on hard, making moan loudly and arch my back, that seemed to appreciate, as he rapidly pushed my dress down enough to fully expose my breasts.

“No bra, my love?”, he asked, grinning, and he closed his lips around one of my nipples as his hand cupped my other breast.

“It has been because of the dress”, I managed to say and he smirked evilly, before shoving his hand under my dress and finding the wet mess which he created.

“You want me, huh?!”, I undid his jacket and shirt, as he then thrust three fingers in me without a warning.

He shoved roughly, added another one, more harshly, I had braised myself against the headboard, while he had been fucking me with his fingers, he twisted and pushed in and out of me in such a brutal speed. I had been a moaning mess under him.

“I asked a question”, he hissed, and picked my nipple with his free hand while he kept fingering me. “Kiara”

“Yes!”, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “I bloody want you so much!”, he grabbed my face kissing me hard.

I heard him whispering something, probably a charm, and our clothes became a pile on the ground. We had been both finally completely naked, he hadn't wasted any time, he replaced his hand with his hard member. I literally shed tears, he had been gripping my hips as he pounded. I had closed my eyes, but then I felt him kissing me on the cheek, jaw, I opened my eyes and I found him looking at me. He smirked and pressed his lips on mine, he kissed me slowly, affectionately, and that had been it.

“Draco”, I screamed as he thrust one more time hard, it had been the best orgasm of my life. Draco came a couples of seconds later.

“Merlin, I love you”, he groaned and pulled out of me, before collapsing next to me.

We had been lying on the bed, completely naked, not even bothering to cover. He had been on his stomach with his head turned towards me, while I had been on my right side staring back at him. His eyes have been glowing with love, he had said that he loved me, and I had to tell him. I needed to. Now more than ever.

“Draco”, I started, then he caressed my lower lip with his thumb while looking at me. “I think I’m pregnant”

His eyes widened, and suddenly moved on top of me, I gazed at him trying hard to not look below his waist. He supported himself on his elbows on either side of me in order to not crush me and simply stared at me.

“You think”, his palm rested on my belly and I sighed, throwing my head back. “You must leave then, love”

“Leave?!”, I asked and he kissed me softly.

“You cannot stay here if you’re carrying my child, our child”, he said and walked across the room, grabbed his wand and conjured back his clothes. He stood in front of the mirror and started fixing his hair.

“I ain’t going anywhere, Draco”, I replied and hugged the sheets around my breasts and he sat at the edge of the bed looking at me.

“You have to, darling”, I had been feeling tears on the eyes and tried to hold them back, he softly squeezed my hand. “You should not attend dinner either, I shall come with an excuse. You make sure you have things ready in case you’ll have to go tonight”

“I don’t want to leave you alone in this house”, he just smiled and then kissed my forehead before going out of the room.

I stood from the bed, packed a bag with things that I would probably need wherever I would be taken, and I decided to have a long bath, I removed my makeup, jewelry, released my hair, and let myself sink into the warm water.

Pregnant. I have been only eighteen and I have never imagined myself having a child before twenty-five at least. But I hadn’t imagined being married so young, so I guess things do change.

I moved out of the bathtub, dried myself and my hair, wore a long sleeveless nightdress with a knit sweater over it. It had been over 10 pm, dinner had to be over, I wondered why Draco hadn’t returned yet. I sat back the bed and decided to the charm to be one hundred sure that I had been pregnant. I placed my wand over my belly, took a deep breath before saying the charm and when I opened my eyes, I found a blue glow over my stomach, meaning positive. I had been pregnant.

It had been early in the morning, I hadn’t managed to sleep, Draco hadn’t returned either which worried me a lot. I decided to do something that I really shouldn’t but I had been extremely anxious about him, I walked out of my bedroom and headed for the living room of the Manor.

“Mrs. Malfoy”, I jumped at the sudden voice and as I turned I lowered my eyes to the ground to find an elf looking at me, he had big blue eyes and a kind smile. “I have been sent to accompany you to a safe house, my name’s Dobby, ma’am”

“Pleased to meet you”, I then looked at the other end of the corridor which lead to the rest of the Manor, “I want to grab my bag from my room, would be alright to apparate from there?”, he nodded at me before he disappeared, I rushed back into my bedroom, put on some shoes and grabbed my wand and my back.

I then let my eyes drift to my engagement ring which had been a simple silver one with a bright pink stone, while our wedding rings had been dark silver with our the crest of the Malfoy family inside of it. I had finally accepted him, us, and now I had to leave him alone. I sighed and stopped my tears before calling Dobby to appear, and he did.

“Ready, ma’am?”, I nodded, the elf had been about to apparate us away when the room’s door burst open. I turned to see Draco standing there with his aunt and father.

“Dobby, go”, Draco spoke avoiding looking at me, the elf let go of my hand and disappeared.

“What’s going on?”, I asked, trying to not show how I trembled.

“You dare to ask! You filthy half-blood!”, Bellatrix then screamed and moved towards me, “You’re a liar! You don’t deserve the Malfoy name! You dared to seduce Draco and make him have your disguising half-blood as his own!”

“But I’m not a”, she slapped me hard across the face, I land to the ground, coughing blood.

“Your whore mother had you with a muggleborn! She had dared to make fool of us! The Malfoys will not let this go”, Lucius, my father-in-law, shouted. He stood next to Bellatrix and kicked me hard in the stomach.

“Father, enough!”, Draco tried to stop his father but Lucius slapped him and pushed him back.

“You have shamed us”, Lucius said, “I will not accept a half-blood Malfoy! Do you understand what you’ve done?”, the eldest Malfoy yelled and kicked me again in the stomach, I cried out in pain. He then pulled out his wand and glared at me, and then glanced back at Draco. “That has to be a reminded that Malfoys take no less than the pure”, Lucius said and with his wand turned at me, he uttered the killing curse.

“NO”, Draco’s gorgeous silver eyes filled in with tears had been the last thing I had seen in this world. Then they were darkness. Absolute darkness, nothing else.

Forever yours, Kiara Malfoy.

(please don’t hate me. I love you! Thank you for all the support! ♥︎)

#draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #female!reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x female reader #draco x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #harry potter fandom #youralwaysandforeverimagine #youralwaysandforeverfanfiction

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malfoymanortings · 4 years ago

Text

my heart is buried in Venice

SUMMARY: she would rather die for love than live for fear. it appears that falling for draco malfoy puts that to the test.

PAIRING: draco x oc

WARNINGS: smut and a bit of descriptive torture (crucio)

hello again! this is angsty. that’s all i will say, so now you’ve been warned. let me know if you enjoy it. its a bit of a longer one! bold/italics symbolize the beginning/ending of a flashback. hopefully it isn’t confusing! also, sorry the summary is shit, im so bad at writing them!

She thinks back to the first time she had seen Draco Malfoy. Not the first time they had met, immature beyond their current years, but the first time she had seen Draco.

The crying was unfamiliar to her, yet it brought stabbing pains to her chest. She hurried into the bathroom, expecting to find a scared first year. They always came to the bathrooms to cry, although they did normally avoid Moaning Myrtle. Still, with the current state of the world, she supposed nothing would be surprising at this point.

“It’s alright,” she stepped in cautiously, peering to see where the crying person was. “No one deserves to cry alone in the bathroom.”

With a thick, shaky sort of breath, the crying tapered off. She turned the corner to see a silver head of hair hunched over the sink, a boy with white sleeves rolled up on his arms. He wasn’t quick enough to yank the sleeves down, and she stopped short when she saw the unmistakable mark of Voldemort on his arm.

“Get out,” Draco Malfoy snarled, turning to half his face was visible to her. “Now.”

“I would hate to leave you alone like this,” she paused, holding her hands out in a sort of I come in peace way. “I may not be your preferred company, but I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”

It was almost unnoticeable, but Draco softened. It was clear in the sag of his shoulders, the loosening of his grip on the sink. She held her breath, and walked further into the bathroom.

“Or, I could offer out a distraction,” she leaned against the frame of the stall, her arms crossed on her chest. “I’ve also been known to ramble about nonsense more often than not.”

“And who exactly is it that said that?” Draco turned towards her, and sat on the floor.

She smiled, and promptly sat down on the floor with her back against the frame. “Well, I’m quite good friends with Susan Bones…” and she launched into a tale of the time when she and Susan had successfully distracted Professor Sprout for half a lesson, by asking about the mixing of magical plants with other muggle plants of certain… properties. They had been beyond surprise when Professor Sprout was quite knowledgeable on the subject herself.

To her surprise, Draco had engaged a bit in the discussion, asking questions and humming and hawing here and there to show he had actually been listening. He had subtly wiped his face dry during the conversation, and she had pretended not to notice.

“I’m quite surprised to find you here, you know,” she said gently, after their shared laughter had come to a stop. “I’m sure you have a million other friends in your house that would talk with you, rather than a Hufflepuff.”

“I haven’t got any friends,” he scoffed harshly, his face once again that hard mask he wore in the halls. “None that really give a shit. Certainly none that would-” but he cut himself short, shaking his head and staring at his hands.

“None that would want to know the reason behind having the mark,” she guessed softly, raising her hands when he lifted his head with a snarl on his face. “If it bothered me terribly, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you. I would have already gone to Dumbledore or someone.”

“So why are you here?” his face was twisted again, into the hatred and despair that seemed foreign on his beautiful features. “Waiting for the right opportunity to strike? Waiting for me to spill my secrets, so you can go running off to tell?”

“No,” she shook her head, answering honestly. “I’m here, because someone was crying and needed a friend.”

Draco’s shoulders sagged again, and he rested his head on his knees. The gentle trembling of his shoulders were the only sign that he was crying again.

In a move that was boldly out of her character, she scooted across the floor so she was beside him. The gentle tensing of his body let her know that he noticed her movements. Slowly, and then in one rushing movement, she wrapped her arms around him.

He began to shove her off at first, but then he sagged once more, and rested his head on her shoulder. Again, he cried, and she murmured reassuring words as he did.

A long time had passed before the embrace ended. Draco had stopped crying, and they had been sitting there in silence for a while.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked him quietly, when he pulled out of her arms.

He shook his head, his grey eyes looking at hers with a haunted gaze. “I can’t.”

It is those same grey eyes she stares at now. Not entirely grey, they have the most spectacular speckles of blue in them. A brilliant contrast to her honey brown ones.

“Is there any particular reason you enjoy the bathroom?” she asked Draco, setting her bag beside her as she sat on the floor next to him.

“I don’t enjoy the bathroom,” he muttered, his elbows resting on his knees. “It’s a filthy place.”

“So then why, when you disappear, do I always find you in the bathroom, either staring at the mirror or sitting on the floor?” she bumped his shoulder with her own, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Are you keeping tabs on me?” he turned his head to look down at her, his grey eyes dark.

Well, not entirely grey. The longer she stared at them, the most beautiful flecks of blue popped out at her. As she stared -admired, although she wouldn’t admit that to him- the bags underneath paired with his spiderweb veins of tender yellow and blue haunted her.

“Perhaps,” she paused, her lips parting for a moment. “Does that bother you?”

“It should,” he surprised her with the raw honesty in his voice. He was normally much more reserved. “But it doesn’t. I like the thought of you thinking of me.”

“Well, I think of you quite often,” she admitted, a bit breathless at the admission. “When you weren’t at dinner, I knew where to find you.”

“The bathroom,” Draco scoffed, turning away to hide the redness spreading across his cheeks. She smiled gently, as she didn’t miss it. She noticed just about everything he did. “Who would have ever thought a Malfoy would declare the bathroom as their safe space.”

“Put a few pictures up, might make it a bit more homey,” she suggested, resting her head on his shoulder. “Although I would make sure they’re all modest, don’t want Myrtle to take any for her personal use.”

“Oh, come on now,” he gave a rare smile, reminiscent of the smirk he used to wear all the time. “Myrtle isn’t that bad.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Wow, Draco, first the bathroom, now Myrtle? Clearly you’ve strayed from your noble path.”

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. The reaction from Draco was immediate, his mouth snapped shut with an audible snap, his jaw clenched, and his body went stiff. She lifted her head off his shoulder, apologies on her face, but he began speaking with an angry rush that startled her.

“I don’t think there’s anything noble left in me,” his hands were shaking now. “My life has become such a mockery of what I thought it would be, and there’s absolutely no way out. I don’t know what I’m going to do, and I need to figure it out now before he- before he kills me.”

Time seemed to freeze after he spoke. He had never even hinted before, at anything like that. They danced around the subject of his dark mark, neither wanting to bring it up. But now, for Draco to so openly admit that he was being forced to do something, more than likely pertaining to Voldemort, well. It was a breakthrough in their relationship.

“You can tell me anything, Draco,” her voice was barely above a whisper, and yet, it sounded through the empty bathroom like a siren. “Please, don’t feel like you need to bottle this up.”

Tears leaked out of Draco’s eyes, and she tentatively wrapped her arms around him. This time, he held her back even tighter, and shifted so that she was in between his legs. He cradled the back of her head gently, pressing her to his chest, and he rested his head on top of hers. Her heart began racing, and his did the same. She knew this because his heartbeat was echoing in her ear from being pressed against his chest.

“I have to fix the vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement,” he said the words quickly, in a rush. “To get the death eaters in the school. He.. he wants me to kill Dumbledore.”

“Oh, Draco,” her breath was shaky, and she closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

The bathroom seemed deathly silent after that. Time seemed to stretch infinitely, until Draco shattered it once more.

“I’ve thought of jumping off the astronomy tower,” he breathed out, so lightly she almost didn’t hear. “Ending it all. But I’m too much of a coward to go through with it.”

“No,” she said quickly, pulling back slightly so she could look at his eyes. “You can’t do that I can’t- I don’t want to lose you.”

The quick admission slipped from her lips before she could stop it, and she wanted to swallow her words as fast as she said them. Draco shut his eyes, his cheeks glistening from the tears that had fallen. His jaw was clenched, a sure sign that he was upset.

“You can’t have me,” Draco’s voice was firm. “I’m not good for you. You’ll only get hurt, if they know I care for you.”

“You care for me?” that seemed to be the only thing her mind would let her latch onto, and she marveled at the fact.

“You could be killed.” his voice was less firm now, and he opened his eyes, grey staring into brown.

“I could be killed regardless,” she pointed out, nearly breathless. “There’s a war going on, Draco. I could die tomorrow, I could leave for holiday or summer break, and be killed. I don’t want to exist in fear. I want to live what little time I may have left in love.”

The words seemed to hang between them, the air heavy. Draco’s eyes shut briefly, and his arms tightened around her before he opened them again. As his head bent towards her, she closed the gap, placing her hands on his cheeks. He flinched at the touch, but melted into her as their lips progressed together.

Her eyes flick down to his lips now, the feeling of them so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. Liquid trickles down her forehead, towards her cheek, but she doesn’t move a hand to brush it away.

“Don’t you dare fucking hurt her!” Draco shouted at Harry Potter, flashing a streak of purple towards the Gryffindor. He pushed her out of the way, and she skidded to the floor.

Harry fired another spell at Draco, exploding the toilet next to her. The porcelain rained down on her, and she raised her arms protectively as the shards cut her skin. Draco shot another spell at Harry, and the bin behind him exploded.

She rose to her feet, nearly slipping on the water, trying to get her wand from her discarded robes on the floor behind Draco. Just as she had it in her hands, she turned, only to get hit with a leg locker curse from Harry. She fell, unable to brace herself, and knocked the side of her head on the sink, hot liquid spilling down her face as her head exploded in pain.

Draco turned to see her, and his face contorted in rage as he turned back to Harry. He cried, “Cruci-”

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” bellowed Harry, cutting off Draco’s unforgivable curse, waving his wand wildly.

She watched in horror through blurry vision as blood spurted from Draco’s face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed on to the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand.

“No,” she choked out, the leg locker curse wearing off. “No, no, no!”

Her head spinning wildly, she looked down horrified as Draco’s white hands scrabbled at his blood soaked chest. She was vaguely aware of Harry falling to his knees next to Draco, and without a second thought, she wound her fist back and punched him with as much strength as she could muster.

“Fix him,” she screamed at Harry, who had a hand pressed to his nose. “Whatever you did, fix him now!”

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

Moaning Myrtle had appeared out of the toilets, and she was now floating around the bathroom wildly.

The door banged open, and Professor Snape burst into the room. She realized it was the only time she was happy to see the hook nosed man. He pushed Harry roughly aside, and drew his wand over the deep wounds Harry’s curse had made, muttering an incantation that sounded almost like song. The flow of blood eased, Snape wiped the residue from Draco’s face and repeated his spell. Now, the wounds seemed to be knitting.

She had his hand in her own, reaching up ever so often to wipe away the blood that kept coming from her head wound. When Snape had performed the counter curse for the third time, he half-lifted Malfoy into a standing position.

She stood up quickly, hearing Snape mutter to Draco. She steadied herself against the headrush she got from standing, a fresh wave of pain rolled through her head.

“Miss Cherrywood, are you able to accompany Draco to the nurse?” Snape eyed her, his face unreadable.

“Of course,” she quickly took Draco in her arms, steadying herself against the added weight. “What do I tell Madam Pomfrey?”

His gaze didn’t miss the way she looked at him, or he her. “Tell her exactly what happened. I am going to deal with Potter.”

She nodded, and hurried out of the bathroom as fast as she could. Draco was pale, much paler than she had ever seen him, which was saying something. He normally looked as white as their sheets.

They made it to Madam Pomfrey, who immediately took Draco into her care. As she watched Madam Pomfrey, she told her exactly what happened. Harry had started it, for no good reason. She left out the part about Draco nearly using an unforgivable, and as she finished recounting the story, she fell over from the sudden wave that went through her head.

Nothing got passed Madam Pomfrey. She was instructed to sit on the bed next to Draco, and once Madam Pomfrey was satisfied with her work on the silver haired boy, she fixed up her would and gave her a potion for the concussion she surely endured.

“You alright, Birdie?” Draco’s eyes were shut, and his voice was weak as he spoke.

“Don’t worry about me,” she slid off the bed, ignoring the instruction Pomfrey had given her before she left. “How are you?”

When her hand held his, he opened his eyes. He was so pale. She brushed his silver strands off his forehead gently, careful of the bottom half of his face that had been hit with that nasty curse.

“I feel as though I should be dead,” Draco paused, his voice low. “For whatever reason, that thought now scares me.”

“What do you mean, love?” the pet name slipped out of her mouth, and she hoped he didn’t mind. She brushed a thumb over his hand, relishing in the soft skin.

“I mean,” he turned to look at her, his face open and earnest. It reminded her of the day he had told her everything. That seemed so long ago now. “I was scared I was going to die without ever telling you how I felt.”

Silence laid over them like a blanket. She stared at him, lips parted, not knowing what to say.

“Birdie, I love you,” Draco broke the silence, shutting his eyes once more. “I shouldn’t. But I do. What happened today with Potter is just a fraction, a mere glimpse, of what would happen to you if he knew my feelings for you.”

“I don’t care, Draco,” the words flew from her mouth, a smile gracing her lips. “I don’t care. I love you. I am in love with you. I would always choose to live in love instead of fear.”

Draco opened his eyes again, and reached a weak arm up to press his lips to hers. Their eyes shut as their lips moved in sync as they had done many times before.

“I meant what I said,” she says the words quietly, looking into those familiar grey eyes. “I will always choose to live in love rather than fear.”

Laughter is heard around them, and she swallows her fear down hard. She vows to be true to her words, no matter the cost.

“Tomorrow,” Draco says quietly, turning to look at her. “It happens tomorrow.”

She let out a shaky breath, turning away from his gaze to the night sky. She had known this was happening, since he told her he fixed the damn cabinet. There was nothing to do. She couldn’t stop it. She wouldn’t help him. She would be fighting against him, come tomorrow night.

“I love you.” the words fall from her lips in a shaky voice, tears slipping down her face.

“Darling,” Draco took her in his arms, cradling her head to his chest. She was reminded of their first hug when he did the same. “I love you more than I had ever thought possible.”

They kissed again, this time a different passion behind it. They both knew this was a goodbye, maybe forever. He would leave with the Death Eaters tomorrow, after he killed Dumbledore. He would have blood on his hands and would formally join the enemy.

Their lips clashed and moved together, tongue touching teeth and lips touching skin. They grabbed at each other, daring to find where the other began and the other stopped. Gentle hands, harsh lips. It was a fight for love that wouldn’t matter in the end.

Draco laid her down on the cushy blanket they had been sitting on before, and paused. “Are you sure you want this, Birdie?”

“I want you, Draco,” she stared up at him, trying her best to memorize his every feature. He was so angelic. How could he be put up to the task he was given? “Only you, Draco.”

He pressed kisses to her neck, deftly unbuttoning her blouse. It slid off her shoulders, and he unhooked her bra next. For a moment, he stopped, staring at her exposed breasts for the first time.

“So beautiful darling,” he murmured, pressing kisses to her skin. “All for me.”

“Always for you.” she moaned back, as he nipped and sucked at her soft breasts.

His lips felt like fire against her skin, as he took a nipple in his mouth while his hand played with the other. She arched her back, wanting to be as close as possible to him. After a moment, she helped him slide his shirt off so she could touch his bare skin. Her nails dragged down his back as he sucked on her breasts, massaging the other with his hand.

He began pressing kisses to her neck, while his hands slid her skirt and panties off her hips, leaving her bare underneath him. He did the same to his pants, leaving his boxers on. He glanced up at her once more, and when she nodded, pressed his lips to hers and cupped her heat.

He ran a finger up her slit, kissing her neck once more as she moaned at his touch. She gripped his shoulders as he began pushing one finger in and out, before adding another one. She moaned softly as Draco sucked on her neck, his fingers sliding in and out of her. He began to rub small circles on her clit with his thumb, and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Draco,” she moaned out, pleasure coursing through her body as he kissed her breasts again.

“That’s it, darling,” he replied, pressing his lips to her once more before trailing back down to her neck. “Say my name.”

He pumped in and out of her faster, and she cursed as she said his name. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and he hissed at the pain. He rubbed her clit faster, and she felt pressure building in her stomach. She moaned his name again, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“You’re so beautiful darling,” he praised her. “All hot and wet for me. Only for me.”

He picked up the speed of his fingers pumping in and out, and she could feel herself becoming close to coming.

“Draco, I’m gonna-” a moan from her throat cut her off.

“Yes Birdie, come on fingers,” he coaxed, his thumb again rubbing fast against her clit. “I want to taste you, love. Come all over my fingers.”

Moaning, her head tossed back, she came all over his fingers, grinding her hips onto them as she rode out her high. She caught her breath, and looked back at Draco, who placed his fingers in his mouth, sucking her juices off them.

“So sweet, darling,” he told her, his gaze heavy. “I didn’t expect anything else.”

He kissed her parted lips, and she tangled her fingers in his hair. She could feel his bulge pressing against her core, separated only by the thin fabric of his boxers, and she pulled away from him.

“Draco,” she gazed at him with lidded eyes. “I want you to make love to me.”

“Anything for you, darling.” Draco complied, slipping his boxers off and swishing his wand towards her stomach. She felt a slight tingle, and realized it was the contraceptive spell.

She glanced down at his hard cock, and swallowed hard as she realized how big it was. She watched as he lined himself up to her entrance, biting her lip.

His lips captured hers once more, before he pulled away to look at her for her consent once more. She nodded, and he pushed into her wet heat, groaning at how tight she was. She sucked in a harsh breath, her eyes watering. It was her first time, and the pressure was a lot to handle.

Draco noticed, and he pressed kisses to her neck, her cheek, her lips, as he let her adjust to his size. “Darling, you feel incredible. So fucking tight.”

“Can you..” she bit her lip once more, subconsciously grinding her hips against him.

He groaned at the feeling, and began slowly moving in and out of her. It hurt at first, but she slowly got used to the feeling, and pleasure began to take over. The feeling of him pushing in and out made her toes curl, and she moaned as he began to pick up the pace.

“You’re so wet for me,” Draco groaned, interlacing their fingers. “Feel so good, Birdie.”

“Draco,” she moaned, the sound of her name on his lips bringing pleasure to her. “Fuck, this feels so good.”

He brought one hand down to push her legs further apart, the motion making him hit deeper inside of her, effectively hitting her g-spot. His name fell from her lips in a string of moans, and he began to stroke into her faster.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into her ear, pressing sloppy kisses to her neck. “Good little Hufflepuff getting fucked by a Slytherin.”

Her lips were parted, and her eyes were screwed shut as he thrusted into her, her breasts bouncing from the force he fucked her with. She again let out a string of moans, his name falling with every other word. His thrusts began to get more sloppy, and his hand reached down to rub circles onto her clit as he thrusted in and out. She began to feel the pressure building up again, and her body writhed underneath him as the pleasure took over her. He groaned, and with a few more thrusts, she felt him shudder, and a sudden wetness filled her cunt. Euphoria washed over her as he did this, and she realized she had come for the second time that night.

For a moment, Draco stayed inside of her, leaning down to press kisses to her neck once more before pulling out of her. He laid next to her on the blanket, and pulled her into his embrace.

“I love you,” he pressed his lips to her temple, his hand stroking her hair.

She looked up at him, their bare skin pressed to each other. “I love you too.”

The hopelessness of the situation hits her. There was nowhere to turn. They knew all about them now, but as she lets their memories wash over her for the final time, she smiles. She wouldn’t change a thing.

“Birdie, it isn’t safe for us to be together,” Draco murmured into her hair, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “They’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care, Draco,” she looked up at him and smiled. “What more can they do to me? The Carrows Crucio me nearly once a week.”

“Because you can’t just let things be,” he responds angrily, moving away from her in frustration, his fingers gripping the railing for the astronomy tower. “You have to involve yourself.”

“I’m not going to let them use unforgivable curses on first years!” she yelled back, her voice echoing in the empty tower.

That paused both of them. She never yelled at him. He wasn’t even sure she could yell.

“Draco, I love you,” she began again, taking his hands in her own. “I love you so much. You have to understand that I can’t just let them tortue kids. If I have a chance to stand up to the Carrows, I will do that.”

“I know,” his shoulders sagged in defeat, and he sat down on the floor, his back against the railing. “I just wish you weren’t so stubborn. I wish I could protect you better.”

“If you did that, they would know about us,” she sat next to him, placing her head on their shoulder. “It would be so much worse for us.”

Draco nodded. They sat in silence for a while, her head on his shoulder, his fingers playing with her hair. Hogwarts was much different this year. Snape and the Carrows had taken over Hogwarts. The remaining members of the DA were still fighting against them, for what they believed in. Hoping each day Harry would come back, and everything would be okay again.

Neville and Ginny had taken over the DA. She helped out a lot more than she had expected she would. She felt that, maybe, part of her was guilty because she was deeply in love with Draco, and he played a part in the downfall of the school.

But he had no choice. He was the boy who had no choice. And she knew that.

No one knew about them. The only person who probably did, was Harry Potter. And at this point, if he ever were to think of her or Draco, he probably thought she wouldn’t still be with him. But it didn’t matter. Harry had much bigger things to worry about then who Draco Malfoy fancied.

“I want a nice little cabin in the woods,” Draco traced circles on her arm, his voice low. “Away from everyone. Away from everything. I want to grow our own garden. My mum always loved gardening. She has the most beautiful flower gardens, you would absolutely love it…” his voice trailed off, no doubt thinking of before. Before things got messy. Before life went south.

“What does the cabin look like, love?” she asked, tilting her head up to look at his angelic face. He smiles, placing a quick kiss to her forehead.

“It’s small, very modest,” he continued, looking at her face. “There’s a giant couch, soft as a cloud. Tons of blankets throughout, for when you complain it’s too cold even when it’s a beautiful summer day,” he pokes at her side, making her giggle. “A nice window with a desk in front of it. I’ll sit at the desk every day, and write. Bad, good, all of it. I’ll publish my own book, one day, about all the bullshit we’ve gone through.”

“The autobiography of Draco Malfoy.” she smiled, leaning further into him.

“Exactly,” Draco laughed, although there isn’t much humor. “My mother is the only one allowed over. She’ll want to help with the garden, but I’m not going to let her. I’ll be the one to do it. Hell, maybe I’ll even do it without magic. We’ll be hidden away in the trees, unable for anyone to find. There’ll be two bedrooms, one for us, of course, the largest one, and the other for…”

“For what, Draco?” she nudged him, wondering why he had trailed off.

Draco looked down at her, his hand grasping her chin. “For our children. Two, at least. No only child bullshit. I never want our children to be lonely.”

“You want kids with me?” she marveled at the fact, unaware that Draco would ever want kids, much less with her.

“Birdie,” he breathed, the smell of peppermint hitting her nostrils. “I want an entire lifetime with you.”

“Do it now, Draco!” Bellatrix shouts from behind her, her heels clacking as she strides forward.

She feels the woman dig her nails into her neck, and she can’t stop the whimper of fear that escapes from her lips. Her eyes plead with Draco, honey brown meets grey blue. He’s a mess, his eyes wild with despair, his arm shaking as he holds his wand up to her.

“Birdie..” her name falls from his lips, and she cries as she hears the goodbye in it.

“Please, Draco,” she pleads, and she’s unsure why. She wanted to die bravely, not groveling at someone's feet. “I want a lifetime with you.”

“Filthy scum,” Bellatrix snaps, forcing her to her knees. “Do it, Draco.”

His hand is unsteady. His wand is shaking.

“Crucio!” Bellatrix shouts, her wand digging into her neck.

Her every nerve ending is on fire. She screams and she screams, her voice harsh. The words carved into her skin hadn't hurt this bad. Her head being slammed into the ground repeatedly hadn’t hurt this bad. She feels like every bone in her body is being broken, just heal and break once more. It’s like she’s been dipped into a vat of acid, and her skin is peeling off.

She wishes for death.

The pain stops, but her skin twitches as her muscles remember the pain. She’s laying on the ground, moaning as tears slide down her cheeks. Her throat hurts so bad, and she wishes she could stop crying, but she can’t.

“Stand up, you pathetic bitch!” Bellatrix hoists her to her feet, again holding her by the back of her clothes. “Now, Draco!”

She blinks fast, clearing her vision to look at Draco. He looks so thin, so pale. The dark circles are back. Spiderweb veins of tender yellow blue are visible on his face. Yes he’s still so breathtakingly handsome as he once again holds his wand to her.

“Always for you,” the words slip out of her lips as she stares at the man she loves. “Only ever for you.”

“Shut up!” Bellatrix slaps her, and the pain barely registers from the amount she’s already been through. “I’m not asking you again, Draco.”

“Let her stand on her own,” Draco demands, his voice cracking. “I won’t kill her while you hold her.”

Bellatrix steps away then, a cackling laugh coming from her lips. Without the support of the wicked woman, she sways and nearly falls, but catches her balance just in time.

“I would rather die in love, than live in fear,” she says softly, under her breath, the words coming out funny as her jaw is still twitching from the cruciatus curse. “For you, I would die a thousand times over.”

She shuts her eyes then. She knows what’s coming. In some way, she always knew this was where they would end up. Perhaps not with him holding the wand to kill her, but with her dying because she wasn’t afraid to love him.

“Birdie,” Draco says in the voice that’s meant only for her, and she smiles, happy to hear it one more time. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Avada Kedavra!”

There is a flash of green.

#draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco #malfoy #death eaters #death eater #death eater draco #draco fuckingmalfoy #draco fucking malfoy #Harry Potter #harry potter series #harry potter smut #voldemort #hogwarts

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anncanta · 3 years ago

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Veduta of Venice

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Zoe Van Helsing, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Zoe Van Helsing, Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rating: Explicit

Veduta (Italian veduta - seen, view, picture, point of view) is a genre of Western European painting and graphics, especially popular in Venice of the 18th century.

@alma37 @hopipollahorror @ravenathantum @flutteringphalanges @ladyhaley28 @dragatha @khyruma

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The hotel was damp and cold, but the view was magnificent. Rising from the chair, Zoe wrapped herself tighter in a wide woolen scarf and went out onto a tiny balcony made of openwork stone.

As far as the eye could see, there was water ahead – pinkish, blue, green. Zoe had never seen so much water before. The water has never been so close. Leaning over the balcony railing, Zoe stared down at the low waves intersecting at odd angles.

Such a strange city. When she bought a tour at the agency, she was offered a choice – Verona or Venice. Zoe rejected Verona at once. And she looked at the glamorous, deliberately beautiful photos of Venice for a long time as if looking for something – either a crack in the ideal porcelain world captured on the image or ugly everyday flaws. In the end, she decided – she has nothing to lose.

The flight never seemed to end. The large iron bird seemed to hang in the sky forever, spreading its immovable wings and holding the half-asleep Zoe either in its paws or in a steel silver beak. When, to her surprise, the bird let her go, Zoe still had to get from mainland Italy deep into the archipelago. So she arrived at the hotel completely exhausted.

She burst into a spacious room that smelled of rain and prickly nights, dropped her suitcase on the floor, and stretched out on an obscenely wide bed.

And when she woke up, the sun, mother-of-pearl gray skies, and water looked out of her windows.

Zoe wasn't going to take a vacation. She worked hard and monotonously, with stubborn, dull dedication, unlike many of her workaholic colleagues – not for the sake of her own reputation and career, and not at all for show. The fact is that there was really nothing more in her life.

Zoe didn’t realize it right away. She just worked, day after day, not even always overtime. Like everyone else, she played bowling on Thursdays and had fun in pubs on Fridays. But when her friends and colleagues hurried home to their families at the end of a stormy evening Zoe, starting her old Renault, every time fought the temptation to return to the laboratory.

This went on for a long time. Months. Years. Until one day, on the eve of her fortieth birthday, Zoe realized that the desire to go back to work after a party with friends was her only temptation.

For some reason, this understanding frightened her so much that the next morning she was already sitting in the office of the head of the medical research center in which she worked, with an application for a vacation, and a week later – on a plane on her way to Italy.

Zoe straightened and looked at the bright scarlet sun sinking into the bay. Self-pity is not the best feeling to approach the second half of your life, she thought. Well, in general, she had nothing to feel sorry for herself. She was lonely – but she always had more or less enough of her own company, with the rare addition of a friend or two to chat with over the weekend. She did not have an impressive career – although many of her colleagues at the center, who discussed at tea the young doctor, who had managed to make several breakthrough discoveries by the age of thirty-five, could argue with this. Success in science is an unpopular success. Nothing to brag about. Zoe chuckled out of the corner of her mouth. And she had absolutely no idea what to do next, and for that matter – why all this was needed.

On the other hand, why not?

Would she have died of some kind of blood cancer, she would have made a sort of a romantic heroine, Zoe thought irritably as she closed the balcony.

At the foot of the building, somewhere far, far away, muddy water was rustling and foaming.

***

Zoe bought a complete tour, which included a full package of services, so she did not choose a hotel. Maybe if she did, she would spend time looking for something more comfortable and not so boring, she mused as she walked down to the restaurant for lunch. During the week and a half that Zoe spent here, nothing happened in the hotel that could conditionally pass for entertainment. Don't consider the other guests as such, she chuckled mentally. On the stairs and in the corridors, there were mostly gloomy gray-haired couples and girls of dubious appearance. Sometimes a jazz band played in the lobby in the evenings.

There wasn`t a soul to be seen in the bright and quiet hall – except for a tall man in black, sitting in the far corner at the piano. Leaning over the keyboard, the man absentmindedly fingered the keys, pulling out the notes one at a time. Zoe smiled at the metaphor that crossed her mind and turned around and headed there instead of the restaurant.

In the niche in which the piano was hidden, only one small lamp burned, giving a soft yellow-orange light. Falling obliquely on the keyboard and the lid, it snatched out of the half-light a man's back and shoulder, tightened in a classic black suit, the outlines of the profile and hands with large fingers.

Approaching, Zoe leaned on the piano and for a while, just stood listening to the music. Now, being near, she could finally understand what was wrong with this music – the stranger played skillfully and cleanly, but the melody, its very fabric, seemed... vulnerable and fragile as if the pianist was painfully remembering it or composing it on the go. Zoe watched as his hands gently touch the keys as if asking about something – and finding no answer.

‘You haven't played for a long time,’ she said softly.

‘Very long,’ he raised his head. For a moment, his face – beautiful, pale, with dark eyes and well-defined lips – remained relaxed. Then he brushed aside a straight strand of black hair that had fallen on his forehead and looked at Zoe. And then a strange expression appeared in his gaze – bewildered, amazed... looking. This happens with those who have met someone whom they have long lost hope of seeing. Zoe could bet that he was about to say something, but at the last moment, he resisted. He turned away again and continued to play.

‘My… teacher was pretty good,’ an ironic note slipped through his low voice, ‘but I'm afraid I’m lacking in practice. What do you think?’ The stranger again raised his eyes to Zoe.

‘I like your manner,’ she said carefully. ‘Have you just arrived?’ she asked for some unknown reason.

‘Yes, yesterday,’ said the man. ‘Always wanted to go to Venice,’ he added slowly. ‘To this... city of dreams.’

Zoe smiled involuntarily. Looking at his hands, which were still on the keyboard, she suddenly imagined with amazing clarity how fingers stroking the keys touch her skin. Imagined how they touch her neck, shoulders, pass along the shoulder blades, move to the waist, barely noticeable, but confidently increasing the pressure. Turning away, Zoe blinked.

The momentary rush of embarrassment, however, disappeared as quickly as it had arisen. What are you here for, Zoe, she asked herself. Not to sit in the room in the evenings with a glass of Tokaj and picture suffering, are you? Take a look at this piece of masculine beauty and make the most of what he promises. If he promises, of course.

‘ – at dinner tonight?’ Zoe woke up and looked at her interlocutor. Judging by his look, he was perfectly aware of what she was thinking and did not seem to mind. ‘If I understood correctly, there will be dances after dinner.’

Zoe nodded.

‘It's always like this here on Fridays. If you're looking for entertainment, there is hardly a better case,’ she said, looking him in the eye. ‘The season has just ended.’

The man silently shook his head.

‘I’ll come,’ he answered, standing up. He bowed graciously, intending to leave, and suddenly turned around. ‘What is your name?’

Again this strange seeking expression, a poignant mixture of despair and hope. And mockery – not at her, at himself.

‘Zoe Van Helsing,’ she said. Amazement flashed in his dark eyes but then disappeared.

‘Count Dracula,’ he said, shaking her outstretched hand. ‘See you at dinner, Zoe Van Helsing.’

***

For the upcoming evening, Zoe prepared carefully. After scrapping several spectacularly low-cut dresses, she settled on blue jeans and a light blue blouse. ‘If he is a real Count,’ her pride chuckled, ‘you will hardly be able to surprise him.’ Well, she didn't intend to.

‘I want to have a good time,’ Zoe muttered, glancing at herself in the mirror of an antique carved dressing table. She washed off the mascara from her eyelashes, which she diligently dyed five minutes ago, then, after short thinking, wiped a thin layer of lipstick from her lips. Zoe used makeup a little and only on special occasions, but it was not a lack of habit or awkwardness that made her get rid of it now. She could not explain to herself why, but she was sure that the best choice for meeting the Count was naturalness.

The hotel restaurant was unusually full: probably dancing inspired not only her, moving to one of the few free tables – at the exit to the terrace – Zoe thought. Sitting at the table and ordering a glass of Chianti, she turned her face to the light wind blowing from the ajar doors.

The bay shone in shades of blue, pink, and dove. Small waves broke up, catching the lighted lanterns. Zoe heard how music was born and tried its power in the hall. The wind became a little cooler. The waiter brought her Chianti.

She could have sat like that all evening, Zoe thought after the third or fifth sip. The music became louder and a little braver. Zoe decided that she might need more wine.

‘You promised me a dance.’

‘When did I?’ Zoe turned around.

Pause.

‘One hundred twenty-three years ago.’

She chuckled.

‘What a precision. And what a tactlessness!’

‘I beg your pardon?’

He was dressed in the same classic black suit as when they first met, and just like when they first met, she wanted this suit off him immediately. Zoe nodded to his questioning glance in the direction of the chair opposite and said, putting down her glass:

‘You just hinted at my age?’

‘No way,’ Dracula responded with mock horror. His eyes flashed with a mixture of irony and melancholy. ‘Never mind, this is... a personal joke.’

The orchestra fell silent behind them. One by one, the instruments stopped playing, as if they were disappearing into the shadows, yielding to the only remaining violin.

Zoe finished her wine. She felt like crying. Determination and frivolity vanished, and anger with herself remained.

‘I –’ she began, but Dracula interrupted her.

‘You promised me a dance.’

She watched him get up and walk over to her. Taking his hand, she rose and allowed him to lead her to a small dance floor in the opposite corner. She saw him making a sign to the musicians, heard the first chords sounded, then he pulled her to him and velvetly ran his hand along her back.

Everything floated somewhere: Venice, the damp smell of canals, a shade of raw plaster, which seemed to cover everything and everyone in this city, a draft coming from everywhere; pink-blue sky. Closed, sharply defined lips and dark, demanding eyes.

Music came from somewhere with dry clicks, crumbling on them beat by beat and measuring their steps. Piano – thunderstorm, monotonous rain, wet asphalt, water on San Marco. Pigeons flutter out from under her feet. Fractional flashes of droplets gather in puddles, a violin steps carefully over them, creeps in, displaces other sounds, and again remains alone. Freezes, kissing her forehead. And everything freezes with it.

...They took the elevator for ages. Squeezing his hand, Zoe watched the numbers change on the scoreboard on the wall. When the number three finally lit upon it, it seemed to her: a little more, and she simply could not stand it. They got to the room, and holding the key card to the door, she was surprised – it does not open until it dawned on her: not her suit. The door opened, closed behind her. Zoe leaned back on it, lifted her head.

Dracula leaned over to her and took her face in his hands. Zoe stood silently, motionless. Closing her eyes, she held her breath, feeling the touch of his lips, then – the tongue. Snuggling up to him, she grabbed him by the neck. He ran his hands over her body, finding, squeezed the nipples through the fabric. He pulled her blouse from the belt and ducked under it with his palm. Exactly how she fantasized... a long time ago... yes, this... afternoon. Twitching impatiently, Zoe swung her hips, her jeans button digging into his stomach. He pulled away, turning her, pressed her to the door again, tore off the button, zipper, and put his hand into her panties. Zoe buried her forehead against the door with a groan. His fingers caressed her harshly and roughly, without ceremony, tormenting her, not allowing her to escape. Zoe finished, breathing out a soundless scream.

Grasping her from behind, Dracula waited until she calmed down, turned her around, ran his fingers over her cheeks, erasing the lines of tears. He pulled her into the room, along with him, to the bed.

Lying on her back, Zoe listened to the disturbed world rebuilding within her body. She smiled at Dracula, who had time to put his clothes somewhere and bent over her. Now his touch was gentle, fleetingly teasing as if he was asking for forgiveness for the recent explosion. Zoe lifted herself up and slid into his arms – and gasped as he rolled onto his back, swapping them.

Zoe loved sex and found partners easily. Many of them were passionate and skillful. But she never really wanted to be on top. She shifted in embarrassment. She wasn't even sure she understood how...

She did not have time to think out the thought: grabbing her by the waist, Dracula slowly lowered her onto himself. And it was so good and... accurately, that Zoe bit her lip with acute pleasure. Dracula waited a couple more moments, lifted her, froze. Zoe frowned in bewilderment. He smiled and moved his hips. Once, twice. The third – slower, then faster, and in the same order – again. Arching, she trembled – and when his fingers found her clitoris, everything became unimportant, there were only moans and sighs in the darkness.

…

‘Would you like some coffee?’ Zoe asked. Dracula, hugging her with both arms and absentmindedly running his fingers over her stomach, shook his head.

‘I don’t drink... coffee,’ he replied, and there was distant anxiety in his voice. Zoe nodded nonchalantly as she climbed out of bed, wrapped her dressing gown, and walked over to the table.

‘It's cold,’ she said, looking into the coffee pot. Well, the coffee was brought in yesterday. She turned to Dracula, who was sitting on the bed. He was disheveled and looked at her in a strange way. ‘I'll order a new one.’ Stepping to the balcony, Zoe opened the glass door and breathed in the morning air.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dracula get up and approach her.

The sky was still gray, but somewhere in the distance birds were already awakening. Zoe turned to Dracula – and froze, bumping into a sharp, focused gaze.

He stood naked in front of her, and there was something very familiar about it – not because of last night, but different.

‘Sorry.’

He grabbed her with lightning speed, so that she did not have time to recoil or cry out, hugged her again – and something happened.

Zoe felt herself trembling and swaying, slipping and falling into an unknown direction. Everything blurred, and before her eyes flashed pictures – an iron grate, a torch thrown to the ground, the smell of burnt wool, a nun's dress, and blood. Swaying, salty air, captain at the helm, shouts, shadows on the deck, and another fire. An explosion, the smell of fresh gunpowder tickling her nostrils, a man's face distorted by rage bending over her.

Agatha recoiled, gasping for air, and finally screamed when she realized what he was doing.

‘Agatha, it`s over!’ Reality fell on her and struck from all sides at once, stunning. ‘That's all, Agatha!’ Dracula hugged her, holding her. She struggled, trembling, bursting into sobs. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated when she was exhausted and quieted down. ‘Sorry, I had to make sure.’

He let her go, and she, moving away, climbed onto the bed, huddled like a wounded animal. She wrapped herself tighter in her dressing gown, which miraculously still remained on her. She leaned back on the pillow and cried softly. Dracula silently sat down on the other side of the bed.

‘You survived,’ Agatha said without looking at him.

‘I did,’ said Dracula. ‘I just slept for a hundred and twenty years. Then I woke up and saw around... all this. But I liked it, you know.’

Agatha didn't answer. She didn't want details. She wanted to close her eyes and not open them for another hundred years.

‘How many have you eaten?’ she said dismissively.

‘Agatha, you worked at the research medical center,’ Dracula's voice sounded annoyed. ‘Do you know who the donors are? These are special people who donate blood, eggs, and sperm.’ He paused. ‘And there is Tinder, besides.’

Agatha felt her head begin to throb heavily.

‘How is this possible?’ she asked hoarsely. Turning, she looked at Dracula. Dracula didn't answer. ‘It’s the twenty-seventh of October two thousand and twenty,’ Agatha said with an effort. ‘I ate toast for breakfast. My blood type is the first negative. I don't like grapes and I love bananas. Last year I went to Islamabad. I remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing!’ she shouted; her voice rang out again.

Dracula was silent, and somehow that silence helped calm the storm that was raging inside her. Agatha looked around the room, looked at the bed, and at Dracula. She breathed in without a sound. Her body was still agitated, still keenly aware of what they were doing together. How could she do this – with him?

‘You remember the life of Zoe Van Helsing because you were her,’ she heard Dracula's voice. Agatha looked at him incredulously. ‘Her life was real. From the very first day. And at the same time, from the very first day, it was you.’

Getting up, Agatha walked to the balcony and leaned against the glass of the door. She frowned at Dracula.

‘It is believed that reincarnation,’ he said, ‘is always a new personality. In rebirth, a person begins a completely different life. And in most cases, apparently, it is. But it happens... it happens very rarely that the former personality turns out to be so strong that it displaces or does not let the new one in, and a conflict arises between them. I heard about this maybe two hundred years ago from some Arab doctor.

Agatha listened in silence.

‘The problem is,’ Dracula continued, ‘that two consciousnesses cannot get along in one human body. Such a split cannot last forever.’ He made a pause. ‘Have you ever been diagnosed with... what is it called now... cancer?’

‘Some years ago. I was in the hospital. Suspicion of leukemia,’ Agatha said in surprise. ‘Not confirmed. Zoe... I've seen the tests. But Z... I'm not an oncologist. I figured it was just a mistake. Someone confused the tubes.’

Dracula stared at her wordlessly.

‘Now, yes, that's a mistake,’ he said and stood up. In the split second after his words, something changed in his face and gaze, and in the room. Standing in place, Agatha watched him approach, stretches out his hands to her, opens her dressing gown. Already when he is very close, holding her between himself and the glass, raises her hips, and enters, she remembers that he is still naked.

Looking into her eyes, he pushes into her body, hard, rough, and deep. She has nowhere to go, not to hide, she should be disgusted and ashamed, she should be hurt, in the end, but she only moans and, shuddering, leans back.

The despair in his movements melts, smears out, he gets out of her, carries her to the bed. He enters again, leaning on his hands, continues, at the only point in contact with her. Agatha cums from this alone, and sweet spasms are still poured in her – while he lets her go, while he searches for his things, finds them, while dresses and, buttoned-up, walks to the door.

Agatha is unable to move, she feels at the same time heavy and light, but her thoughts and feelings are more clear than ever. She turns and holds out her hand.

‘Don't go.’

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #bbc dracula #count dracula #zoe van helsing #agatha van helsing #dragatha #fanfiction

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koboldsoul · 4 years ago

Text

a new little day within my hand

this was supposed to be for sg week but I’m bad at finishing things period, much less on time. in any case, we get to have some indulgent h/c between our two emotionally constipated wizards. as a treat. special thanks to @strwpup for betaing! 4585 words, shadowgast, gen, ao3

“I have more of Caduceus’ mixture,” Essek said from the doorway, the little ceramic pot in his hands testament to the words. Caleb nodded his assent to a question that had not been asked.

“Ja,” he said aloud, rather unnecessarily. The hoarseness was new, but welcome: for two days after that final, awful battle, he hadn’t been able to speak at all. Maybe he was still relishing the ability to coax sound from a shredded throat. “Thank you.”

That seemed all Essek needed to be confident in his approach, and this, too, was new. Since reuniting in Eiselcross, mutual hard worry had softened into gentle concern somewhere along the course of relearning their dynamic, and though Caleb had warmed at the change, there was no telling what had inspired it.

In any case, Essek settled beside Caleb on the low settee without apprehension, and removed the lid from the little pot. A week into his recovery, Caleb no longer flinched at the sharp smell of herbs; now, as Essek took his battered hands and carefully unwrapped the bandages, there was a comfort—nearly a sweetness—to both the touch and the scent.

Caleb’s hands immediately began to tremble without their wrappings, the tendons flexing in uncontrollable spasms. Time had yet to complete its work on their appearance, either: to Caleb’s eyes, they seemed a stranger’s, warped and scarred beyond what his past teachers (the archmage, the streets, the call of adventure) had managed on their own. There were many things he used to know like the back of his hand—they were a mystery, now, and the limbs themselves unrecognizable.

He glanced at Essek’s face instead of contemplating that further. His impeccable recall wouldn’t let him forget what his ravaged flesh looked like, anyways, and he would much rather commit to memory the dusting of silver across the bridge of the drow’s nose and the sharp angle of his cheeks, a shade darker than the platinum of his lashes and hair. His brows, knit together in concentration, matched.

They were seated close enough that Caleb could feel the puff of air from Essek’s soft sigh. It accompanied a flash of hurt in his eyes, something vulnerable and sad, when he brought Caleb’s exposed fingers up for inspection. “Your hands look…” He trailed off, apparently searching for the words. Caleb was not sure what would hurt most, what would ache best—there were no words for the destruction he had wrought on his one infallible tool. “...better,” Essek eventually decided, and got to work applying the salve.

Caleb could argue, but it was true enough. Each day of intensive healing, of careful application of potions and poultices and therapy, had made them more closely resemble what he remembered. Neither cleric was sure if they would ever be the same, though Veth was—as always—recklessly optimistic, promising he’d be back in fighting form in no time. Sometimes it chafed, the hope. It burned and blinded the same as any raw magic.

“Any sensation, yet?” Essek asked, voice low.

Caleb watched the salve spread over his skin and imagined it cool and smooth, faintly tingling as was typical of many of Caduceus’ blends, but...he shook his head. “Nothing,” he rasped, and tried not to let the terror behind the admission show on his face.

He must not have been able to keep it out of his voice, however, for Essek paused in his application to shoot him a look of concern. Why he had elected to oversee Caleb’s treatment when he was not well-versed in the healing arts—and moreover, why Caleb preferred his fellow wizard in the role as opposed to another, better-suited member of the Nein—was still something of a puzzle to them both.

Perhaps it was reassuring to be tended by someone who understood, better than anyone else, that a wizard’s hands were his life. Perhaps—and this was a notion Caleb loathed to put words to—he simply enjoyed Essek’s company, the practiced motion of his fingers. Or perhaps Caleb was simply a coward, and could not bear to look the Nein in the eyes, not after what he had done to ensure they all returned to the Material Plane alive.

Saved us, Veth had said. Scared us, Beau had said. Really done a number on yourself, Caduceus had said, and Jester: Protected us, so now it’s our turn to protect you for a little bit, okay?

Caleb knew they meant well, and a part of him longed for their companionship and their care; the rest of him, however, could not bear to see them, or to be seen. Because...for a little bit was optimistic. For a little bit implied a promising prognosis. For a little bit was not—was not what was in the cards for a scholar who could not write, an adventurer who could not fight, a mage who could not cast.

But even after a week alone with these thoughts, Caleb was hardly about to articulate this to himself, much less say this to his friends. So he let Essek finish his treatment in silence, patiently massaging the salve into each hand and working them through stretches that Caleb could not feel. When he was done, they simply sat, hand in hand. Breathing. Thinking.

Essek cleared his throat and absentmindedly rubbed some circles into Caleb’s ruined palms. “I…” he started, trailing off, and Caleb tensed; these treatment sessions were not habitually accompanied by conversation. “I understand, how...how difficult this must be—”

“Difficult?” Caleb repeated, the consonants catching in his throat so sharply he had to bite back a cough. He knew he was meant to be resting his voice, but although there was no vocabulary to describe his present circumstance, not in a way that captured it faithfully, difficult was so woefully inadequate that reticence was out of the question.

“Essek,” he went on incredulously, “I—I cannot do anything like this—write! Eat! Dress, even. I can’t cast or light matches or turn doorknobs or—anything. Without my hands, what am I supposed to—how do I—” It was too many words at once, and he tugged his hands out of Essek’s grip to muffle a round of coughs with his arm. When his eyes watered, he blamed it on the discomfort and could only hope that his nurse also ascribed the symptom thus.

Essek remained quiet through the outburst and fit alike, but out of patience or unease, Caleb did not know. Palm-up and empty, his hands rested loose and...forlorn, almost, in his lap. Oily residue from the salve gleamed in the lantern-light, gold on the dark of his skin.

Lanterns, for once. Lanterns—because Caleb could not muster the dexterity for even a simple cantrip he had learned to cast at six years old. His eyes continued to burn even when the fit passed. His throat remained tight.

“I don’t...I don’t know what to say.” Essek addressed their knees, knocking together on the narrow couch, but the unexpected honesty still hit Caleb full in the face. Uncertainty, Essek had once said, was the surest way to lose one’s footing in the court, and though his time with the Nein had given him ample opportunity to labor at vulnerability, it seemed to Caleb that developing the habit was a glacial process. “You are...such a gifted mage, and I—”

He broke off again, but Caleb had nothing to add. Was, he might have corrected, but the past tense would have grated like broken glass, and he choked it back with the tears.

“I cannot begin to imagine,” Essek said at last, studying his own hands, flexing his fingers and rubbing at his palm with the pad of his thumb, “how it would feel to lose my own hands. How...terribly feeble, and exposed, and...and useless I would suppose I seemed to others.”

Caleb scoffed to cover up his sniffle, and turned his head away and down so that he wouldn’t have to see the pity in Essek’s eyes when the drow inevitably looked up to meet his gaze again. “Ja,” he said, harsh and bitter, “you have the right of it.”

“But,” Essek went on, louder, more firmly, “I am not any of those things, and neither are you, do you hear me, Widogast?”

Essek might have thought this a kindness, these trite words, but all they did was sour the hopeless feeling in Caleb’s chest. It was heavy enough on its own without the gall of false affirmations.

“Like this, I can open a locked door, blur my form, and cross a space, and that is all,” Caleb said, and the rasp only made him sound angrier. He had catalogued his spells over and over again, every morning and evening, mentally flipping through the books whose pages he could no longer physically turn.

“That is all,” he repeated, and it was wet where he wanted scorching. Fire was familiar. Anger was easy, and burned better than sorrow. “That is the extent of my ability without my hands, you understand? I cannot protect them this way. I cannot—I cannot even summon a place for them to stay, a place for us to regroup while they plan around my...my inability to—”

“They don’t keep you merely for your ability to—”

“I know!” Caleb burst out, and there were tears falling in earnest now, landing on his useless, scarred-up hands and leaving dark splotches on the blanket over his legs, left there lovingly by Veth some hours ago. “I know. But I...I need this, Essek. You have to know this. You know this better than anyone else I have ever met.”

Essek did not do him the disservice of trying to argue. “I...I do.”

“If I don’t…” Caleb dashed uselessly at his eyes, and it was clumsy and humiliating the way he couldn’t feel what he was doing, the heel of his hand catching on his nose before he could reach his cheek to brush away evidence of at least this one failing.

Foolish, this attempt at subterfuge. As if he were without an audience. As if Essek had not already seen him at his lowest. As if crying like a child was the only sign that things were terribly, terribly wrong.

“If I don’t recover, all I can do is get them killed.”

“Do you regret it, then?”

That brought Caleb up short. He abandoned his attempts to scrub his face dry. “Was?”

“You could have let go,” Essek explained, kindly, as if this weren’t the most obvious thing in the world. “As soon as you felt the magic begin to burn, you could have let go. Let the gate close. If you could go back—do it over—would you have let go?”

“You know I wouldn’t have.” He said it softly, like a dirty secret, even though it was insultingly self-evident. The alternative—it didn’t bear even considering.

Essek nodded, and when Caleb turned his head away—tried to escape some of the intensity in Essek’s gaze—the drow dropped to his knees on the rough wood floor, equally unyielding. “You weighed the risk,” he agreed, and insisted, “and you chose their lives over—” Essek bit his lip, one sharp canine peeking out as he laced his fingers, folded his hands in front of him. “Well. You...you have to understand what you—what I—what...what it looked like to...to watch.”

Caleb could only imagine. The gate had resisted his touch with violent intent, endlessly fed by a wellspring of terrible, raw planar magic. He remembered...pain. Remembered the iron conviction that his friends—the Nein—his family—needed more time. He remembered...counting out the seconds, holding the gate open with his bare hands, even as his skin bubbled and melted and his nerves weathered the assault of surging magic, waves whipping the Weave about with the furious abandon of a storming sea, and the burn burn burn of power—too much, not enough, everywhere.

He didn’t remember screaming, but by the state of his voice afterwards, he must have. He didn’t remember Veth and Jester making it out, though they must have—they were here, safe. He certainly didn’t remember passing out, but that must have happened, too. So no, he supposed he did not fully know what his suffering must have looked like to an outsider, but...

He chuckled entirely without humor. “I assure you it felt worse.”

Essek nodded. “I don’t doubt that,” he said quietly. “I don’t doubt that. And you knew, if not before, then certainly very quickly after, what was at stake. Am I wrong?”

He was not. Caleb didn’t need to say the words aloud for Essek to know.

Shoulders slumping, Essek settled on his heels and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist. “And you would do it again,” he said. “Even knowing you might never cast again, even if it cost you the magic you love, the alternative...that price would have been too steep, and no one would disagree with you on that. Caleb,” Essek said, leaning forward and taking his face between his hands, brushing away frustrated, shameful tears with his thumbs, “they both would have died. Veth, Jester—neither of them would have made it out.”

Instinctively, Caleb’s hands came up to take Essek’s wrists—not to tug them away, but just to hold—but he could neither feel them nor sufficiently flex his fingers for a satisfactory grip. It was the final straw.

“I know,” Caleb said, voice cracking along with what remained of his composure, and he did not fight when Essek pulled him down into an embrace.

This, too, was new, and—Caleb hesitated to call it good, because touch had always been a fraught thing between them. There were so few touches they had ever shared without pretense, but...he did not have the energy for pretense now. He didn’t even know what agenda he would be pushing if he had.

Numbness in his hands aside, every other inch of skin seemed abruptly hyper-sensitive, and Caleb rattled apart in Essek’s hold, blind and trembling. Careful fingers found their way into his hair, gently guided his head into the crook of a neck, encouraged his hands into the tiny gap between their chests as arms tightened about his shoulders. Claustrophobia warred with the awful certainty that he would shatter without this grounding pressure to hold his pieces together.

It had been a long, long time since Caleb had cried with such abandon. He had tipped past some long-forgotten (or long-buried) threshold, found himself drowning in the great whelm of fear—grief—fury—relief—and knew, suddenly, that this was why it was always Essek who insisted on treating Caleb’s injured hands, who never suggested Caleb accept help from one of the clerics. That Essek had been patiently anticipating this—and had wanted to spare Caleb the anguish of losing control in front of the others.

Trust was a complicated thing, and this was not trust so much as it was understanding. Essek was not safe in this sense, but—he was a place free of condemnation. Hypocrites they were, both, but playing at judgment was a thing of the past, and despite the uncertainty, the still-healing rift, they had both silently agreed to turn their eyes towards the future.

And so Caleb sobbed like a child and ignored the many warring voices inside of him that by turns berated and applauded him for this show of weakness. All the while, hands that had rent reality, started wars, plucked at the threads of fate like the taut strings of a harp—these hands cradled him like something precious. Comfort and protection in one.

There were no words for this, not even those that could be expressed in touch. If Essek tried to speak, Caleb could not hear him over the blood roaring in his ears, the hiccuping gasps and involuntary wails coming out of his own mouth. If any of them resolved themselves into intelligible speech, he had no inkling of what he was trying to say.

He had saved his friends, yes, and in so doing had damned himself beyond the point of no return.

It was a long time before the shaking stopped, and when it did, Caleb slumped, exhausted. He ached from his knees to his sinuses, scooped out and hollow. He was warm here, tucked up against Essek’s chest, and stooped—Essek was slightly shorter than him—but Essek’s fingers were cool where they rested against the back of his neck.

Embarrassment quickly rushed in to fill the empty space left behind by this great purge of emotion. Though it tested what little reserves of energy Caleb had left, he tensed. Essek’s grip tightened in response, and faintly, over the sound of his own rattling breaths, Caleb heard him whisper shh, shh, shh.

This is alright, he seemed to say. This is alright for a little while. And Caleb did not have the wherewithal to argue, so he curled in tighter and resolutely did not think about the arms wrapped around his torso.

“Let me teach you something,” Essek murmured into his hair after some time. “Something new.”

The words were difficult to find, and when they came, they were rough. “How would that work?”

“We will start small.” Essek pulled away—Caleb mourned the contact briefly, though the relief of being able to breathe freely again washed over him in a confused wave with his release—but only to resituate at Caleb’s side and stretch his right arm out over Caleb’s, his left underneath. Caleb’s palm, he sandwiched between both of his hands. “You will remember if I show you, I have no doubt, but...this is better.”

Wish I could feel it, Caleb thought, absurdly, but that was fruitless thinking. Wish I could feel you was even more sincere, but that was a step too far. “What does it do?”

“Does it matter?” Essek asked, and Caleb supposed it didn’t.

For several long minutes, Essek manipulated Caleb’s shaking hands and useless fingers into careful shapes, puppeting him through a series of somatic gestures that he narrated in a soft voice directly into Caleb’s ear.

Fingers curled, wrists twisted. Over and over again, they formed poetry in angles and strokes, some of the elements—the careful geometry—familiar from past lessons in the dunamantic arts. Their hands blurred together, deep blue-gray-purple and angry red-pink-white, exhaustion or the lingering burn of tears painting their shapes with a singular uniformity.

Perfect memory had Caleb anticipating each movement by the second sequence, and it felt good—even satisfying—to trace out the gross motor elements with his arms, though he could only watch the finer motions take shape. He was putty, malleable clay. And then...Essek’s ministrations stuttered, an uncharacteristic hesitation.

“Did you just—” Essek cut himself off. As if trying to forget the moment entirely, he made as if to finish the sequence. It was slower, though, and sloppier, and no sooner had he completed the final flick than he seemed to reconsider. “I thought I…” he started, faltering. “Did you…?”

“Do it again,” Caleb whispered. Seven times Essek had gone through the motions, and on the last...Caleb could hardly dare hope, knew he was likely imagining things, but…for a split second, maybe…

They traced the rune on the air together. Essek tugged Caleb’s pointer finger in, extended the outer three. Brushed them through imaginary gossamer, lack of intent unable to bring them in proper contact with the Weave, and then—a simple thumb stroke. But Essek’s gentle grip was just a split-second behind the movement of Caleb’s thumb against the outside of his index finger.

Neither of them spoke. Bringing it to light, giving voice to it—it was not up to them to tempt fate in this manner. They only sought out fate with intent to control it, and this was too fragile a thing.

But Caleb could hear the tension in every inhale-exhale. Excitement—curiosity—very nearly hope—was in the very air they breathed. There was no sensation in his hands, but the frisson of thrill was an illusion of lightning arcing down his arm, making the hairs stand on end and...and easing the tremble in his fingers.

They repeated the somatic component one final time, but Essek did not let go of his hand. He laced their fingers together and let both fall to Caleb’s lap. “Now with the material component?” he suggested, and it was the most tentative sort of excitement Caleb thought he had ever heard from the man. Essek was a reserved individual, yes, but his anticipation had never been a frail thing.

“What is it?”

In lieu of answering, Essek freed one hand from their tangle and reached back. Caleb heard the jingle of metal and precious stone, much closer to his ear than he’d expected and—he craned his neck, curious.

“Ah,” Essek said, and just as he managed to free one piece of jewelry from his left ear, he said, “any crystal will do, though of course quality can, ah, affect the spell’s potency. Not in the shape standard for this particular spell, but it will do in a pinch.”

And how like a mage to ensure he was never without his tools of trade. How like Essek to ensure that his components were both beautiful and quick to hand. They were both ever-practical, but where Caleb’s pragmatism was, by necessity, ruthless, Essek’s had always been a touch elegant.

“Between your third and fourth fingers,” Essek instructed softly, and demonstrated himself. The stone shimmered between his knuckles, and when he twisted his hand, it caught the lantern-light and flashed like a tongue of flame. “Here.”

Essek slipped the gem into place—Caleb dutifully raised his arm to an appropriate casting height—and used both hands to mold Caleb’s into proper formation.

“I’ll drop it,” Caleb warned, as Essek went to release his fingers in order to begin guiding him once more through the somatic sequence.

“You won’t,” Essek replied, and it even sounded sincere. “We will...we will go slow. All you need to do is hold on.”

And wasn’t that always the case? Wasn’t that how Caleb had gotten here in the first place, what he had told himself as he counted down the seconds through a haze of pain? All you need to do is hold on.

He took a deep breath in. Held it.

Hold on.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could just see the edge of Essek’s profile. His chin rested lightly on Caleb’s shoulder. His cheek brushed Caleb’s jaw.

We will go slow.

Caleb thought about dancing, and circling, and spiraling inevitably towards gravity’s center until you were close enough to walk hand in hand. He was human; he was not accustomed to going slow. Essek, with his elven lifespan and his particular expertise in the arcane, had so much more time at his disposal—

And he had chosen to spend it here. With Caleb. All you need to do is hold on.

Caleb breathed out, focused hard, and steeled his will. “Ja, okay. I can...I can do that.” He felt Essek nod, then heard his verbal acknowledgement.

“Just hold on,” Essek said again, and Caleb did. He honed in on the crystal between his fingers, bid his deadened nerves and healing muscle to bend to his will. And when Essek let go, left the gem entirely at the mercy of gravity and Caleb’s grip, it—it shook in his grasp, but it didn’t clatter to the floor.

The sharp laugh that Caleb barked out startled them both, but the sheer delight—sunlight breaking through clouds, the first POP of a corn kernel in the pot, the last term slotting into place to make a formula work—could not be contained to his chest. How ridiculous to be so pleased by so simple an act, and yet—

Essek let out a disbelieving chuckle that quickly gave way to several more in succession before devolving into a full bout of giggles that he tried and failed to muffle in the crook of Caleb’s neck. Had Caleb been wearing his scarf, the sound might have found some measure of cover, but clad as he was in clothing for sleep, each giddy exhale was a spark against his skin and deafening in his ears. Infectious.

They did not manage even half the somatic sequence with the crystal in hand—it fell to the ground when Caleb curled his arms over his aching abdomen, quaking with hysterics—but he had not laughed like this in...in...he did not know how long. He was wrung out. There was nothing in him left to dampen the hilarity of it, to absorb the heady, intoxicating spread of this great wildfire feeling.

Was this it? Was this the tipping point? Where the simple act of holding a stone between two fingers was enough to promote wonder? Had he finally cracked entirely, gone over the edge?

(Maybe. Maybe. But was that so awful? Especially when it might be enough, too, to send them both over a different edge entirely?)

Briefly, Caleb considered the fact that this small victory was no indication that things would truly improve, that the future held anything more than the tragedy of a slow and incomplete recovery, but nevertheless...he laughed. It was something. It was something. Hearing his voice and Essek’s mingling—wordless mirth—and reveling in a shared moment over a personal triumph...it was something.

When the laughter died, Caleb became aware that they were leaning solidly against one another, foreheads pressed together and Essek’s nose brushing his cheek as they both recovered their breath. Joy—the first he had felt in weeks—faded to simple hope, but that was no small thing. It ached, still, but...not quite as unbearably as before.

“What is the incantation?” Caleb panted, drunk on the feeling of it.

“Ah, it is—” Essek cleared his throat. “Gyllenek’eroth zere. Be careful not to—ah, to agitate your throat. Repeat it...repeat it slowly. You should feel it, ah, here.” And so saying, he pressed his fingers to the vulnerable skin under Caleb’s jaw, just to the outside of his jugular. It should have been a viscerally distressing sensation, intrusive at best, and though it certainly wasn’t what Caleb would call comfortable, he found he didn’t mind.

“Gyllenek’eroth...zere,” Caleb repeated. With Essek’s hand there, he was keenly aware of the vibrations of the rumbling consonants.

“Nearly,” Essek whispered, breathless. “Again. Slower.”

Letting his eyes fall shut, Caleb complied. “Gyllenek...eroth...zere.”

“Again?”

He repeated the incantation, softer. Then again, even softer, tilting his head. They both sighed when their noses brushed, when Essek’s hand slid around the back of Caleb’s neck. Once more—carefully enunciated—Caleb murmured the incantation, and felt the warmth of his own air against his lips. It would be a matter of millimeters to press their mouths together.

“Is this okay?” he breathed, and wondered how many steps were left in this dance.

He felt Essek’s answer, a breath against his skin, before he heard it. “Your pronunciation is perfect.”

Just a few more steps, then. “Okay.”

“Once more?” Essek asked, and Caleb was braver with his eyes closed.

He whispered the incantation into Essek’s mouth and swallowed the gasping reply.

#critical role #cr fic #critfic #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #shadowgast #so I started writing this early in the aeor arc before we had any idea what the final battle was gonna look like so uh #ya girl was speculating and wringing every ounce of h/c potential from the complete lack of limitations as she could #so here there be vague references to events that didn't actually happen BUT it was my excuse to write wizardly intimacy #which I now realize might be becoming my brand :|#whelp nothing for it I suppose #my fic #fun fact the spell essek is teaching caleb here is reality break #why? it's the only dunamancy spell with components that worked for the scene I had in mind 😂😂#L E T T H E W I Z A R D S T A L K

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silence-burns · 4 years ago

Text

Please Hate Me //part 45

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut in this chapter

Loki, despite being raised in a royal family, was at heart a man of simple pleasures. What more could he want from life than what he already had?

The Edge was a place of wonders, that much was indisputable. And even if not all of them were easy to enjoy, there were still moments worth living for.

The stars above felt closer than the last time Loki paid attention to them. Galaxies swirled in their eternal dance, the stars bright and colorful. Here, at the edge of the known universe, one had to wonder what laid beyond it. Here, it didn't feel far at all.

But even though some part of him couldn't stop the curiosity, Loki was tired of adventures. Or at least the ones where he had to risk his life and others'. Years ago, he'd have been surprised any 'others' would choose to stick with him and stay by his side despite it all. It was still a strange, new concept that baffled him whenever he realised how comfortable he’d grown in his new life. How vastly different it was from what he had predicted his future to look like.

But it was okay, Loki concluded. If life wanted to surprise him in that way, he'd allow it.

Loki closed his eyes. The wind gathered the sweet scent of flowers, blowing it through the lush gardens, overflowing with life. It was one of the many wonders of the Edge - how capable it was of change. How easy it was for the muddy creeks to turn into crystal-clear ponds. How the dry patches of grass could turn into fields of greenery and flowers. How the gnarled trees could turn into a forest thrumming with noise and movement.

All of it for a price paid in blood and ash.

Loki's hand brushed his throat, where he had still felt the ghosts of pain.

It was over, Loki had to remind himself again. The mission was over and they were all leaving the Edge soon. There were other, better, things to focus on. He should think about how soft the grass was as he laid on the field. How warm you felt, pushed into his side and wrapped in his cape. How peaceful it was among the trees, with birds singing somewhere in the distance-

"Don't ya fucking LICK that frog, Peter, or I swear on your aunt, I'll-"

"It smells like carrots!"

"It doesn't mean you have to- oh my god… This is the last time I abduct you."

Loki smiled. The birds were no longer singing, or at least not through the deafening ringing in his ear, but he didn't mind. He didn't mind that life at all.

He heard rushed steps to his left moments before the boy reached him. Loki cracked one eye open.

The fattest, most annoyed, orange frog he had ever seen flopped from the boy's hands, all six legs dangling loose.

Peter's smile was brighter than the countless stars overhead. "Look what I found, Mr. Mischief! There were more of them, and in different colors too!"

The frog burped. It indeed smelled of carrots.

Loki closed his eye. "What does it taste like?"

"Like a frog, unfortunately…"

"You should check out the other ones."

"Okay!"

And before he knew it, the boy was gone. The thicket shook. A few faeries rushed away, desperately flapping their translucent wings.

"He's gonna lick all the frogs now," you grumbled from your cocoon. "He's gonna be sick."

"I can heal him."

"How nice of you. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"What can I say, darling? I'm a generous god."

"So in all your godly wisdom you told the boy to go lick some frogs?"

"Let him have some fun."

You turned your head to face him. Loki was looking at the stars overhead. Dark bruises peeked from under his collar. Magical aftershock, he had called them when he had explained why they didn't disappear despite his healing. They'd stay for a while, he said. A small price to pay.

"I'm glad it's over," you said quietly.

"So am I."

"Do you think…," you licked your lips. "Is it okay for us to just lay here and enjoy this change?"

The Edge took a shape that was so vastly different that it still seemed like a miracle. The balance was indeed a precarious thing there, no flicker of energy ever wasted. The land replenished, bringing to life things that made you admit that magic could be beautiful.

Still, you couldn't forget where all this energy came from. How the Queen had delayed her own fading by killing so many others.

"We did what we could," Loki understood your worry too well. "It is beyond us to change the laws of these lands and their dwellers. Harsh as this might feel to us, this is what life looks like here. All this," he gestured to the shimmering forest around, "is what the Edge was always supposed to be like, if the order of things had been kept."

"Wise words coming from an outsider."

You unfurled from Loki's cape so fast you almost ripped it from beneath him. The Prince was standing at the edge of the clearing the three of you chose to spend your final hours at. He was wearing a robe in distinct shades of silver, the pattern covering the fine fabric meandering within the eye-catching lines. It was the most vivid thing you'd ever seen him wear, the shine of the metal pieces razor-sharp.

The Prince wasn't looking at you. "I have lived for so long I couldn’t remember how my own world was supposed to be. How strange it was to see it wither throughout the centuries despite the Queen's fading supposedly filling out the essence lacking. How strange it was for so many Rifts to form and plague our lands. How peaceful it had become now…"

Loki and you exchanged glances, but kept quiet. The Prince kept his hands clasped behind his back, but you couldn't forget them drenched in blood.

During the silence after the Prince's words, Peter came back from whatever he had occupied himself with and likely annoyed whatever creature he managed to find. He took one look at the visitor and disappeared between the trees again. He was a smart boy, after all.

"We are glad this issue is resolved at last," Loki said carefully.

"So am I."

The Prince nodded to himself. His eyes were cold and distant. You wondered how long one had to live to forget their own past.

And how long it'd take the Prince to vanish, now that the weight of fading had fallen to him.

"The body of your ambassador is being prepared for the transport," he said at last before leaving the clearing. He did not take the path towards the palace, though. Loki and you watched him disappear between the trees, walking slowly among the flowers in full bloom. You couldn't help but wonder if he was reminiscing, or creating fresh memories.

The air tasted like ash in your mouth.

"I think I prefer spiders."

Loki shushed you. "Don't bring bad luck. I want to leave this place in one piece."

"Oh? And where would you rather be?" you asked as you laid back down on the soft grass.

"Somewhere nice and quiet, but I'm open to suggestions," Loki purred into your ear, bringing you close to his chest.

"Then I'm sure my little surprise will be to your liking."

Loki stilled. "A what?"

"You'll have to be patient. We're here, so I'm not sure what's going on on Earth, but I think it should be ready when we're back."

Loki's mind was overflowing with all the possibilities and ideas. He went over your past conversations, trying to piece together whatever hints you might have given him. "Should I guess?"

"I'm not telling you anything. You have to wait."

Loki did not want to wait, but his options were limited.

By the time you were to leave the Edge, he was no closer to finding out what you had planned. The three of you waited patiently on the same balcony you had arrived on all those weeks ago. It hadn't felt that long, probably because of how much had happened since then.

Roses climbed high over the stone walls of the palace, their flowers heavy and blooming. Petals rained down, picked off by the wind and taken away.

The ambassador's body was wrapped in silk and bound tight, ready to be taken to his birthplace at last.

"Do you think he found out what the Queen had been doing?" you asked quietly.

"He might've been suspicious enough to look for all those ancient scrolls in the library and pieced together the facts," Loki said.

"And the Queen didn't let him spill her secret."

Peter frowned. "So… she was the bad guy, right?"

If only things were so easy.

"Often, there's no good or bad," Loki said, looking at the roses. "There are just things that'll hurt you more than the others, and the things that'll hurt others but save you the pain. Everything is a matter of choice. And values."

The three of you watched the Bifrost open and swallow the remains of the ambassador. Only he would be allowed on the grounds of Asgard that day, at least officially. No hint of emotion could be noticed on Loki's face as he watched the flash of light disappear. You took his hand.

Out of the shadows of one of the towers came the Prince, entering the balcony from the side of the river, shimmering far below. He was alone, no guards following his steps. You wondered how many of them were left.

"Looks like this is farewell," he said in a deep voice.

"We are glad we could help," Loki lied smoothly.

There were no words left to exchange. It was clear that whatever would happen now to this place was way beyond either of your control.

No amount of evidence could ever make you trust the Prince, though.

The light surrounded you in a flash of colors, pulling on each and every fiber of your being. Loki tugged you into his side, Peter sticking himself to his other.

The feeling of being ripped to atoms and then roughly put back into shape half a galaxy away was almost familiar by now. Still, it was no more bearable than the previous times and left you with a mild dizziness once your form materialized back on Earth.

You'd never laugh at people clapping after plane landings again.

The sudden change of the surroundings hit you with a cold blast of winter chill and sun, although its light was diluted through the clouds. It was strange not to see the galaxies in the reach of your hand.

What was even stranger was seeing Thor calmly standing at the top of the Stark Tower, where the three of you had been transported to.

"I think I prefer the bag," Peter mumbled, dangerously green on his face.

Thor approached you with a frown that, Loki knew, had never led to anything good. At least not for him. Brotherly love could be rough at times.

"So, you're back," he said, openly eyeing the kid. "How did it go? Are we at war?"

"We're all good, thanks for your concern," you cooed sweetly.

"The Edge was never more beautiful than when we left it," Loki smiled.

Thor took a steadying breath. "...is it in ruin?"

You thought back to the slightly devastated great hall of the palace. And the gardens still dealing with the aftermath of a spider infestation.

"I just told you it's not! Why do you always accuse me of lying, brother? I'm deeply hurt by your lack of trust."

"It's the safer option," Thor said. "As glad as I am to learn that the crisis is apparently solved, I dare ask what is the boy doing with you?"

Peter blanched.

Loki pushed him off the roof. "What boy?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw not-a-boy swinging off into the city as fast as his webs allowed him.

The second steadying breath helped Thor even less than the first one. There was a tiny little vein pulsing at his temple, threatening to burst along with his temper.

Loki patted Thor's arm on his way to the stairs. "Don't worry, brother. We took care of everything."

"That's precisely why I worry."

You sent him a kiss as you followed Loki. It didn't seem to be appreciated enough.

You couldn't believe you were back on Earth. The change that felt huge before, only grew with each step you took down the Tower's familiar corridors. The kitchens, the day rooms, training grounds - it all felt so strangely unreal after the weeks living among the shifting, feral magic of the Edge.

"It's good to be back," you said at precisely the moment Bruce Banner appeared on the other end of the corridor leading through the labs.

Bruce froze, his eyes growing wide. He, apparently, had a dramatically different opinion about your coming back.

He shifted nervously on his feet, but there was no escape. "So, uh… How did it go?"

Loki pretended to think. "Well, don't expect to see the real moon anytime soon."

The look on Bruce's face was worth a pic, but your phone had been left in your room before the mission.

"It really is good to be back," Loki repeated your earlier words sometime later, once the door to your room closed behind your back.

Not much seemed to have changed, which was strangely reassuring. Loki wasn't sure what his feelings were towards the small figurine of his unnerving similarity were, but even its sight was not unwelcome. It still stood on the narrow and slightly dusty windowsill, covered in the snow on the other side of glass.

But there was one thing out of order that immediately caught Loki's attention. As far as he was concerned, the neat stack of business cards on the bedside table was not there last time, as well as the not-so-neat single one, with hand painted spider and a set of what could be horns, if one squinted hard enough.

'thought it would be cool' said the little note scribbled with a gel pen.

"And what is that?" Loki asked, picking it up.

"Part of the surprise."

"'Professional mischief for an affordable price'," Loki read out loud. "Sounds like a catchphrase of some detective agency, like the ones from the shows you showed me."

Loki thought about what he just said. He looked at you with a frown.

"Only if you want it to," you shrugged with a little smile ghosting over your lips.

Loki blinked. "You're actually serious."

"I thought it would be nice if we had something of our own. You know, outside of this mess," you pointed towards the door, currently being banged with a fist from the other side. Two voices demanded to know 'everything about that damn moon'.

Loki looked back at the neat stack of cards. The thick paper was pleasant to the touch.

"You said it was only part of the surprise?"

"How glad I am you asked, love."

Loki watched you pick up your coat and gloves. You opened the large window to the left, letting the alarmingly chill air inside. "Shall we?"

One more voice joined the ones behind the door. Loki could not see into the future, but he had a feeling that door would be the most occupied place in the Tower soon.

"That's a lovely idea," he said and picked you up.

The burst of magic solidified under his feet as the two of you left the Tower and all the people looking for you.

The sun was slowly setting. It was not late, but as always during the winter time, day hours were sparse. You were high enough in the air for the pedestrians not to notice you, but even then, what would they do? Tony had been flying around in his suit on a daily basis, and wouldn't hear anyone having a problem with that.

The wind pushed rogue snowflakes into your faces. It felt refreshing to be back in the city you were so familiar with. Everything seemed new and wondrous, especially from such a perspective. Even plane flights couldn't do it justice, not when you couldn't feel the breeze in your face, and clouds passing by so closely you could almost reach out to them with a hand.

Loki changed course when you directed him to the older part of the city. It was still relatively close to the centre, but no skyscrapers, and certainly no towers could be found in the neighborhood of old brick apartments; only buildings a few floors high, and narrow lawns separating their fronts and the road, both currently covered in snow. No one bothered to take care of it, at least since it last fell.

Loki put you down in front of the one you pointed him to.

"I must admit I'm surprised," Loki said. "I'd never expect to come to a place like this, for whatever reason."

"You don't even know why we're here yet." You led him up the ice-covered stairs to the scarcely lit interior stairwell.

You ignored the apartments on the lowest floor, and instead took him upstairs. With a set of keys you fished out of your jacket, and which Loki dimly remembered you grabbing before leaving the Tower, you opened the door with a number 13 on it.

"You're not superstitious, right?" you laughed quietly.

Feeling you observe him carefully, Loki stepped inside. The short hall led to a room that once upon a time could've been someone's office. But that was a long time and a few crises ago, when the furniture was free of the scratches, and the walls didn't shed old paint every time seasons changed. Still, it had its charm, Loki had to admit as he stepped further in. If cleaned, the large window could allow a lot of light onto the heavy desk in front of it, and to the sitting area with two couches and a coffee table. To the right, Loki noticed another set of stairs, leading upwards.

"The upper part is connected. The previous owner used it as an apartment, with this here being his working area," you explained.

Loki nodded.

"What do you think?" you elbowed him in the side, too nervous to wait patiently.

Loki sat on one of the couches. Oh, he could definitely feel the atmosphere of this place, so similar to the crime shows you had made him binge (and he didn't even whine about too much). He had never thought of himself as a detective, not like the ones on TV, but on the other hand - who on Earth could be better at solving any and all supernatural secrets this planet might still have? There certainly didn't seem to be a lot of competition in that area.

He was still contemplating his future and, of course, possible fame, when you slipped onto his lap and cupped his face.

"What. Do you. Think?," you asked clearly, looking him straight in the eye. "Don't make me wait, asshole."

A lazy, satisfied smile creeped on Loki's face - precisely the one he knew always drove you crazy.

"I'm still unsure, darling," he drawled, leaning further back onto the couch and reveling in the feeling of having you pressed against him. "For some very strange reason, I can't make up my mind just yet…"

The setting sun painted golden patterns on your face. Your hand wandered over Loki's chest, and stopped over his racing heart. However much he tried to stop it, his heart had always been the one to betray his every emotion.

"That's such a shame," you leaned into his neck, pushing his head to the side. "I would do anything to make it easier for you…"

Loki's hands slipped to your thighs, holding you steady against him. His fingers shook when he felt your lips follow the curve of his neck, right over his rapid pulse. He closed his eyes as you slowly worked on undoing his shirt.

"Anything you do will be enough," his words were breathy and quiet.

"Are you sure?"

"I can't think of a single thing I wouldn't let you do to me right now."

You certainly were enjoying yourself just as much, given the smile ghosting over Loki's collarbone, and the trail of kisses going slowly down. Loki's grip tightened over your legs, his breath becoming shorter the further you went. He felt the heat rising deep inside his chest, just as his thoughts turned murkier with each small movement of your hips, brushing unnervingly close to where he had wanted them to, but still not-

A strangled sound escaped his throat. Loki pushed the coat off your shoulders and threw it to the side, not caring where it landed. He had other things on his mind, and one of them included his hands diving under your shirt, and roaming over your back, so wonderfully warm.

Loki shivered when you brushed over his bulge, earning you a breathless moan as you worked on his belt.

"I think I'm starting to warm up to this place," he muttered into your lips. His fingers tugged on your trousers, as impatient as yours.

You drank in the sounds that came from him. You stroked his shaft gently, brushing your thumb over its underside. He shuddered in your grip, tense to the point of near pain. Loki's nails dug into the skin of your back as you rose and then sank onto him, taking him in an unnervingly slow pace.

His heart thundered in his chest as you rode him gently, the sight engraving itself into Loki's memories - those deepest, most secretive ones, which he often came back to to relive and thoroughly enjoy.

The couch kept creaking under the two of you, growing louder as your moves became sloppier and more desperate. Loki couldn't help his hips from grinding into yours every time you rose above him, chasing the pleasure and getting close to it. Loki's thrusts became erratic. His hands gripped your ass when you leaned closer, hitting just the right spot-

He came, shivering under your touch, waves of pleasure shooting through his body.

"Sorry," he muttered, his voice hoarse. He could already feel the redness blooming over his cheeks. He didn't think he'd be done so soon, hadn't planned it…

You shut him up with a kiss, brushing the hair plastered to his forehead to the side. Your hips rolled over his a few more times, riding him into the couch and melting his bones as you extended the feeling.

"It's okay," you said. "We have all the time in the world now."

Loki nodded, words failing him. He brought you closer to his chest, his arms closing around you in a tight embrace as he burrowed his face into the crook of your neck. For a few moments, the only thing he could think about was that home wasn't always a planet, or a building. Sometimes, on those few rare, and incredibly lucky occasions, it could be a person.

And it was more than enough.

"I love this place," Loki admitted quietly.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki marvel #loki mcu #marvel #loki series #loki fanfiction #loki smut #I Love Loki

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destiniesfic · 4 years ago

Photo

A little dark!Alina for Tumblr user @darkalinas. Merry Christmas, Maven! I was your Secret “Sankta” for @darklinadaily’s Darklina Secret Santa. 👼 I had a blast writing this and I hope you like it. ♥

Fandom: Grishaverse (post-Ruin and Rising and King of Scars) Pairings: Darklina & Malina Word Count: 5,000 Rating: T+ Summary: Three years after the end of the Ravkan Civil War, the woman once known as Alina Starkov begins to dream.

Or: he can go anywhere he wants (just not home).

Read on AO3 or read below:

It would have been easy to think the mistress of Keramzin, who saw that the orphans straggling through her door were fed and cared for, little more than a girl herself. Boys of twelve seemed tall beside her, and the more daring among them would ask her to stand back to back with them so they could measure the difference in height and come away whooping at how they’d grown. She wore her hair unbraided and walked the halls with bare feet. Sometimes she would lose herself in a daydream and move to tackle a different section of her latest mural with her brush still wet in her hand, trailing little drips of paint like a line of kisses on the floorboards.

But appearances deceived, for the girl was a woman now, and married. She and her husband took their meals sitting among the teachers and staff, not their charges, although either of them could be tugged away from the table with the slightest excuse. Some of the youngest children, confused by her snow white hair, called her Baba like she was a grandmother. Though she was still a young woman, she sometimes moved stiffly, after she had sat too long or hunched her shoulders up to her ears while she painted, like whatever she had done before coming here siphoned some of her youth away.

When the woman slept at night, it was stretched out beside her husband under a warm duvet, safe. Neither of them dreamed often, and when they did they dreamt mainly of sunlight dancing over skin, of the woods’ silent call. But the other times, the few bad times, he was there when the nightmares reached for her with greedy fingers.

“It’s all right,” he would whisper, gathering her into his arms. “You don’t have to carry it all alone. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Although they were the right words, the things a person should say, her mouth always went dry before she could tell him that she knew.

When one night she arose from their bed in the very early hours, nothing seemed wrong. She had not woken from a nightmare, just suddenly, with no preamble and no cause. Her husband slept on beside her, his brown hair rumpled, one shoulder, sun-kissed from work outdoors, turned toward the ceiling. She thought about kissing it, but she didn’t want to wake him. She left her bed and went to the window, sitting on the bench in front of it and looking out at the pond.

The moon was strong tonight, a silver dish suspended in the sky. Everything she touched—the grass, the sliver of creek—seemed to glow. Her light spilled in through the window, washing the floor and the foot of the bed in desaturated hues, somehow making them both more and less. Where the light did not reach, shadows pooled on the floor like tar.

Most people thought that darkness was the absence of light, its opposite. She knew a different truth. Without light, there could be no shadow. Where one ventured, the other kept close.

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw one of the shadows move.

She spun around, but her room was as she always knew it: sleeping husband, solid oakwood furniture, dead fire in the grate. Across the room, a ghost stared back at her, hollow-cheeked and bright-eyed. She startled, but it was only her reflection in the full-length mirror. Then, in her periphery, motion: darkness like smoke, sliding under the closed door and into the hall.

She followed.

The rebuilt Keramzin was completely dark this time of night, orphans and staff alike asleep, lost to their own dreams of tomorrow. Patches of moonlight glimmered at her feet, but the shadows between them seemed to grow darker, deeper, until she thought she might fall into them if she took a step forward. Yawning chasms, or hungry mouths.

This was like no dream she could remember. As far as she could see there was no one beside her, no one behind her. Yet she could feel a presence, she would swear to it. Something winding around her, working its way up her body. Something with a voice.

Alina, it murmured. A name only her husband called her now, when the fire was dying and they were alone, the children tucked safely in their beds.

“Alina is dead,” she said. “No one here has that name.”

A lie—Ravkans began naming their daughters for the Sun Summoner as soon as they learned of her. There were two little Alinas, both under four, in the nursery where the youngest children slept. But she didn’t think this phantom cared for technicalities.

The voice chuckled. Are you really so eager to forget yourself? She felt the brush of lips against her ear, but when she turned her head there was nothing. She was alone in the darkened hall, and she thought he had left, but then a whisper slithered into her other ear. Are you so eager to forget who you are?

“I am the mistress of Keramzin,” she told the voice. “I am the painter of these walls. I am the guardian of these children. I have made my home here, and if you won’t leave it, I will drive you out myself.”

There was silence. Then:

With what power?

“Darling?”

She turned. Her husband stood in the doorway of their room, his hair sticking up endearingly at odd angles, pajamas slung low on his hips. The shadows reverted to their normal shade, strangely innocent, keeping their secrets.

“What is it?” he asked. “I heard you talking.”

She blinked back to herself and reached for a plausible explanation. “I don’t know. Must have been sleepwalking.”

He nodded, distantly, then walked over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Back to bed,” he said, a yawn stretching the last word wide.

“Back to bed,” she agreed, but not without a last glance over her shoulder.

---

“Have you heard from our friend in Os Alta?” the woman asked her husband over breakfast that morning.

That’s what they called the king, that or sometimes their friend in the palace. They had a handful of friends in Os Alta, of course, the lingering remnants of another life entirely. But those friends—the Grisha Triumvirate, the king’s bodyguards, and others—could be mentioned by name occasionally. Davids and Nadias were common enough. Nikolais were, too, but it was better to be cautious with him. Better to leave nothing to chance.

Her husband frowned. “No,” he said. “Were you expecting something?”

She shrugged. They had briefly housed the king’s escort a few weeks back, sans king; the orphans had crowded the windows to gawk at the gilded carriage. When the riders went on their way to the palace, she sent a letter with them. Nothing serious, for there was nothing serious to report from Keramzin, just well-wishes and a request for news from the court. The king was a lively correspondent and usually quick to reply, happy to unburden himself of gossip or fears which he could not, or would not, share with courtiers.

“I wrote to him,” she said, spooning sugar into her tea. “But I haven’t heard back. He’s probably busy.”

“Busy choosing a wife,” her husband replied, with a hint of a snort and a solemn undercurrent that said he did not envy the king one bit.

The woman looked into the glassy surface of her tea. “I forgot,” she murmured, though that news had reached them even in Keramzin and the staff had been buzzing about it for weeks. A royal betrothal was a rare event, and an important one.

Her husband bumped her knee with his, and teased, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Hardly,” she scoffed, and smiled at him. That ship had sailed long ago.

Still, it bothered her that she hadn’t heard from her friend. She knew that court obligations must be keeping him occupied, especially with eligible young women swarming the capital, but she wished she had a letter back so she could reply in kind. He was the only person who understood the way darkness had lodged itself between her ribs like a long thorn, reaching to pierce her heart. If she could just slip in a question about his demons, if she could just have reassurance that all was well with him, then maybe she would cease to worry about the impossible.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the earthy scent of her tea. It seemed silly to have those fears here. The air was bright with the chatter of children being herded into their first lessons of the day, with cooking smells, with autumn sun. Half the walls were covered in paintings of fantastical scenes, her own doing, and she wondered if she had been trying to create a ward to keep the darkness out.

“I heard there were earthquakes last night,” her husband said, changing the subject. “Maybe that’s what woke you.”

She frowned. “Earthquakes? Here?”

“All over Ravka. As far south as Dva Stolba.”

Dva Stolba. A shiver ran down her spine. “Why do they think it happened?”

“An act of nature,” said her husband, unbothered. “These things happen, beloved.”

The woman nodded and looked back into her tea. Strange things had been happening all year, it seemed—bridges of bone, statues sprouting flowers, forests falling in the night. It might mean nothing.

And yet when she tried to paint that day, her blues kept running into her blacks, and shadows marred her paintings like bruises. She retired to her room early, dreading her dreams.

---

She did not dream that night, nor the next, nor the one after that, and she breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that her husband was right, that things do happen. That sometimes earthquakes were only earthquakes, and dreams only dreams.

The next time she woke unexpectedly it was to the sound of a bright, sustained note, like ringing in her ears. Someone was playing the piano downstairs. One of the kids must have gotten up and decided to wander around in the night.

Her husband slept on next to her, bracketing her back, and she knew it would fall to her to handle this before the playing woke up the rest of the orphanage. She sighed, pushed her hair back from her face, and slipped out of bed, quietly pulling the door to behind her.

The child fooling around with the piano kept playing and holding the same note, as if not sure where to go from the single key they’d discovered. It was in one of the upper octaves, and although she’d begun to learn how to play the piano alongside some of her more gifted charges, she did not have the knack for knowing which note it was.

But when her feet found the cold tile of the foyer and she hurried to the drawing room where the piano stood, she saw the person sitting at the keys was not a child at all.

The phantom had shape now. He wore a long cloak of all black, with the hood pulled up to cast his face in shadow. She knew what he would look like if he drew it down, and it was that terrible knowledge which rooted her to the spot. He sat on the piano bench like there was real weight to him.

“You’re not here,” she said, as if the words alone were a revocation, a shield.

The phantom pressed the piano key again, and the note held, high and wavering, suspended in the air between them. She looked around, thinking it might wake the staff, or maybe some of the children would stumble bleary-eyed from their rooms, but in her heart she knew no one would come.

“You’re not real,” she insisted.

“Come and sit,” he said. His voice was cool like a poisoned spring at the height of summer, the last drink of the desperate.

She refused to slip into the well of him and stayed where she was, folding her arms over her chest. “You’re in my home.”

“Yes, and such work you’ve done, rebuilding it.” He didn’t need to remind her that he had once burnt Keramzin to the ground, slaughtered all those that had a hand in raising her. She could hear the smile in his voice, picture the way his lips curved under that hood. “Sit with me. I’ll be on my way soon enough.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Would you believe a dead man’s word?”

She shook her head. She wouldn’t have believed him when he was alive. “All you’ve ever done is lie, dead or not.”

“I bent the truth to my will, Alina. I omitted.” There it was again, the name that was hers and wasn’t. She hated the tenderness with which he said it, the same her husband’s voice held when he called her beloved, or my heart.

“A lie of omission is still a lie,” she said.

He made a small, skeptical sound, and then began to play in earnest, coaxing sad, strange music from a piano more accustomed to the clumsy fumblings of students. She had never heard a song like this, composed of discordant notes that didn’t quite fit together and made the hair on her arms stand on end. She found herself moving closer to the piano, watching his bone-white fingers move over the ivory keys, trying to figure out how he was doing it.

He softened his playing, gentled his touch, so that he could speak to her with his head still bowed. “How long has it been since you’ve seen my face at night?”

“Years,” she whispered. Another lie. She couldn’t keep him from entering her thoughts, the man she’d almost loved, the man she killed. She would go weeks at a time without thinking of him, and then he’d glide into her last thoughts before sleep, or she’d feel her husband’s callused hands on her skin and think of the one breathless night he’d gripped her thigh and nearly had her, all of the other evenings that weren’t.

“Would you like to see it again?”

“No.”

He chuckled and stopped playing, then reached up to draw back his hood.

At first she saw only what she expected: his familiar, beautiful face, with its high cheekbones, his thick, dark hair, his cruel mouth curving up at the corner. There were the faint scars that marked his survival of the time she stranded him on the Fold. But that was what she wanted to see. The other half of his face was a rotten mess. Mottled grey skin flaked away from bone, a dark hollow gaped where his eye should be. There were no lips to hide his straight white teeth, and no nose at all. How he would have rotted, if he hadn’t burned.

He smiled.

She screamed.

The cook, emerging from her room to set out breakfast, found her asleep at the keys, her forearm slung in front of the music rack, pillowing her forehead.

---

The woman was led to her bed, skin hot, buried in blankets as soft and heavy as the first snow of winter. A doctor from the nearby town was summoned to diagnose her with influenza, told her husband to see to it that she rested and drank her tea. She had always been prone to sickness when the weather changed–except for the one glorious, blazing year that her ill health could not touch her, when the light she wielded kept it at bay.

She gave that up. She was supposed to have her happily-ever-after.

“I saw him, Mal,” she said, clutching at her husband’s sleeve as he pressed a cool compress to her forehead. “I saw him.”

“Your temperature’s still high,” he replied, cupping her cheek in his work-roughened hand. She closed her eyes. “Fever dreams. He’s gone, love. You saw to that.”

Later, she saw her husband standing in the door, speaking in a low voice to the doctor, asking about paranoia, about delusions, about what it meant that his wife saw ghosts. The doctor shook his head, told him she needed to sweat it out, that after a few days she would be right as rain.

She told no one there was a weight on her chest that had nothing to do with her flu.

But her body won its fight eventually. After a few days her skin cooled, and instead of sipping clear broth from a bowl held carefully by one of the orphanage nurses, she was able to join the rest of Keramzin at dinner, seated at her husband’s side. The staff all greeted her warmly and told her how much better she looked, even though she knew they whispered about the circles under her eyes even when she was well.

Sitting there in the dining room, she was struck suddenly by a sense of profound dissatisfaction with her life. Why should she endure gossip and speculation? Why should she have her counsel so easily disregarded by the physician, by her husband, her words of warning dismissed as flights of fancy? She, who had been a saint. She, who was nearly queen. Why—

But then one of the little girls threw her arms around the woman’s legs and said, “Baba, I’m glad you’re better,” and the world righted itself. She let her hand rest on the back of the girl’s silken head, and breathed.

---

“Keep me awake tonight,” she told her husband later, as they turned down the gas lamps and climbed into bed. “I don’t want to dream.”

“You need your rest,” he replied, smoothing a lock of white hair back from her face.

She twined her arms around his shoulders. “I’m not glass,” she murmured. “I won’t break. Keep me up.”

He tried his best, and so did she, but sleep, ever the creditor, claimed its debts in the end. Although at first she did not realize she was asleep, having sild into it sideways; one moment she watched her husband’s chest rise and fall, and the next she blinked, and the waning moon had moved outside the window. The back of her neck prickled with the creeping certainty that she was being watched. There was someone else in the room with them.

She reached for her sleeping husband to wake him, to tell him, to show him, but her hand passed over his shoulder like rain running down a windowpane. She jerked it back, as if she had burned it. Her husband didn’t stir.

“He won’t wake,” said the soft, cool voice from behind her. “You’re in my domain now.”

The woman closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, steadying herself before speaking. “I thought it was ours,” she said after a moment. “Not yours. I could call to you, too.”

“But you haven’t, have you, Alina?”

“There’s no point calling on a dead man.”

“Am I so dead?”

The more fool her, expecting a nightmare to know he was deceased. The more fool her, for thinking him just a nightmare. She turned over, holding her blankets close to her chest, and found a figure standing at her bedside, nearly human, not a shadow, not half corpse.

She blinked up at him. “You’re whole now.”

“I only wanted to remind you of the damage you did,” he said.

How could she forget? She killed both him and her husband that day, so much heart’s blood gouting warm over her hands. If one had returned to her, it didn’t seem so unlikely that the other would as well, even though she’d watched him burn.

But she wondered if that was it, or if he simply had the strength now to appear as he liked. He had been formless at first, just a whisper in her ear. Now he stood at her bedside, lifelike. His hood was pushed back from his face, and the moonlight glimmered on his sharp, elegant cheekbones, haloed his dark hair. His scars, which had appeared after she stranded him on the Fold, were gone. He looked down at her with his pale grey eyes, and she very much wished she were clothed.

“What do you want?” she asked, smoothing her hand over the blankets.

“A word. A walk.”

“And what if I don’t want to give you those things?”

His mouth curved into a smile, but she read sadness in his eyes. “Then I will come again, Alina. The tracker may think he has you in the day, but your nights are mine.”

She closed her eyes again and imagined him eroding her dreams over and over, until he became the only thought left in her head. She imagined sitting up for days, trying to avoid him. It chilled her blood. If they had thought her paranoid before…

“No tricks,” she told him. “Look away. I need to dress.”

He scoffed, “You act as though we’re strangers.”

“Some things belong to me,” she reminded him. “Look away.”

He pursed his lips, but turned his head away from her. She slipped out of bed, careful not to touch him, and gathered up her discarded nightgown, her underwear, dressing as quickly as she could. She stepped into her slippers, determined to make him wait as long as possible, before asking, “Where are we walking?”

“Around your orphanage, to start.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms and tucked her hands under her armpits so he couldn’t take them.

The door to their room had a squeaky hinge, one her husband had been meaning to grease for a couple of weeks now. When the phantom opened it, it made no sound. She listened, hard, for his footfalls on the floor.

“Tell me, does this life suit you?” he asked, as they walked side by side through the darkened hall, the only two awake in a house, or perhaps a world, of sleepers. “Do you enjoy being painter and patroness?”

“I do,” she said. It did not taste like a lie.

He hummed. “Do you enjoy being a mere wife, when you might have been a queen?”

“Men wanted to make me their queen,” she reminded him. “That was never something I chose for myself.”

“All the more reason you would have been a good one,” he said. “Power is wasted by those who crave it. It’s twisted, perverted, misused. You would have made an excellent queen.”

“That’s a rare moment of self-awareness from you.”

An amused glint lit his eyes, a candle flame in a darkened window. “I never wanted power for power’s sake, Alina. I loved my country.”

“Did you?” She paused for a moment to consider a painted vine snaking around a bannister, which was already beginning to flake off. She scratched at a leaf with her index finger; green came away under her nail. “Then why couldn’t you stop destroying it?”

“Ah,” he said.

“Well?”

“So young, so wise, so married,” he mused, “and yet you know nothing of love.”

He took the stairs without waiting for her to follow. She did, of course, determined to chase him down and to explain all the ways that he was wrong, then realizing, partway down, that he would only take her arguments as defensiveness. So she reminded herself of what she knew. She loved her life. She loved the children in her care. She loved her husband. Her love would not destroy them. It would not destroy her.

But she had loved power, too, once. And now her power was dead.

He waited for her by the two grand double doors that stood at Keramzin’s main entrance. She tried to follow the lines of his cloak with her eyes, but it bled into the shadows at his feet. He watched her steadily.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Now we walk.” And he held out his hand.

She stared at him.

“You won’t get to where we’re going if you don’t take it.” He spread his fingers out a little, beckoning her. “Alina.”

She held his gaze as she slipped her hand into his. She half-expected to feel the surge of power, familiar and wild, that used to always manifest when she touched him. She didn’t feel that, but she didn’t feel nothing. Some dark thing fluttered just to the side of her heart, a fledgling raven not quite ready to leave the nest.

“Aleksander,” she said.

He pushed open the door.

They stepped together, and for a moment it was as if the shadows had swallowed them whole. She felt like she had stepped back into the nothingness of the Fold, an all-consuming, weightless darkness. But then it resolved itself, and she saw that she was in a grey, windowless room. She blinked and pressed her hand to one of the walls, feeling cool stone under her palm. With a surge of panic, she looked over her shoulder and saw the only door was metal and sealed tight.

“This is a cell,” she said, her heart sinking. Had she stepped into a trap without knowing? Would she be able to leave? “Why would you bring me here?”

“A glimpse of the future,” he said, ever inscrutable.

And then his mouth was hot and hard on hers, and her back collided with the wall. She was so surprised that for a moment she didn’t react, for a moment her lips parted and she let herself be kissed, and then she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away.

“What are you doing?” she cried, as if someone might hear, someone outside. Someone who could intervene.

“What you want.”

That dark thing fluttered behind her ribcage again. “I have a husband.”

“Your husband,” he said, voice heavy with derision. “The tracker. Have you forgotten? You murdered your husband the day you murdered me.”

“Clearly it didn’t take.” She kept her hands firm on his shoulders. He certainly felt real, firm and strong, all lean muscle.

His laugh was low and dangerous. “Are you so deserving of good things? Are you so deserving of kindness? You put a dagger in both of us, Alina. Tell me why I shouldn’t repay you in kind.”

She felt one of his hands slip up her nightdress, settling on her thigh, a strange echo of the position they’d been in years ago, that very different night. Her blood pulsed hot in her ears, and she knew it was not a dagger he was planning to stick her with. “You’re dead,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. She refused to let him rattle her. “I think that would make it difficult. No blood to spare.”

He gave her a narrow, rueful grin. “If I’m truly dead, does it matter what we do?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His other hand traced a half-circle over her collarbones, where Morozova’s antlers once sat, before gently tilting her chin up. She could not look away from him. In life, there was always such intensity in his gaze, and the gaze of this nightmare, this dream, was no different. “I’m going to kiss you again,” he said. “Tell me to stop, if that’s what you want.”

She didn’t tell him to stop. He was gentler this time, his lips ghosting over her cheek before finding hers, molding to her instead of forcing his way in. She shut her eyes tight, but her grip on his shoulders turned into something else, a near embrace, another battle in their war. She could even smell him, cool and crisp like the approach of winter. His hand was warm on her thigh.

“You have something of mine,” he murmured against her mouth. “Do you know how to use it?”

“What?” she asked breathily.

She felt him smile. “I’m not so far away, Alina,” he said. “Come and find me.”

---

When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing in the middle of Keramzin’s drive in her nightdress and slippers. Although it was late autumn and a breeze brushed her white hair back from her face like a lover’s fingers, she didn’t feel the cold.

Dawn was just beginning to break in the east, a pink tinge illuminating the dark branches of naked trees. She stood there, watching the morning sun rise, and held her hands up to it, hoping to catch the rays in her palms and hold them for a while. But they glided over her skin, indifferent to what she wanted. She tried not to let her disappointment swallow her. She had felt a tug when he touched her. She had hoped...

But maybe that wasn’t the answer.

“There you are,” said a voice from behind her. She turned and found her husband standing in the door, his feet bare. He had dressed in haste, and his shirt didn’t quite sit right on his shoulders. She saw the nurse peeking out behind him.

“Sleepwalking,” she called from the drive. “Don’t worry.”

“You should come in,” he said. “You’ll make yourself sick again.” She could hear his concern warring with his impulse not to frighten her off. If they could only pretend everything was fine, then everything would be.

“In a minute.” She looked toward the trees bordering the drive, their little patch of forest. “There’s something I want to try.”

“Ali—” he began, then stopped, remembered himself. “Just come in.”

She smiled at him like she couldn’t still feel the ghost of another man’s kiss on her lips. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Before he could say another word, she walked off into the trees, where the shadows grew thick like underbrush, even at midday. But it was dawn, with the sun’s light slanting at an angle, and the thick trunks of trees sprouted long, dark shadows that blanketed the leaf-covered ground. She walked until she was sure she could no longer be seen. Eventually, someone would come to bring her in. Better to be quick. Better to be sure.

Alina held out her hands.

The shadows greeted her like an old friend.

#darklina #alarkling #darklinadaily #darklina secret santa #grishaverse #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the grisha trilogy #shadow and bone #mine: fic #darklinasecretsanta

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