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wildlyglittering · 4 years ago

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The Space Between

I have a few pieces of Nessian fan fiction already pre written so I’m just going to drip feed them into my feed every Sunday.

Enjoy (I hope!)

***

Cassian left Velaris far later than intended.

He meant to fly at first light but with the previous night’s send-off drinks for the Inner Circle, all due to go their separate ways for the summer, that first light turned into the hot midday sun.

For Cassian, his departure was routine. It was a regular schedule now, this constant flying back and forth between Velaris and the Illyrian mountains. Rhys kept him busy but the camp kept him busier, so much so that at times he was more a creature of the sky then land.

The prior evenings political discussions of Rhys, Feyre and Az’s imminent stay in the Dawn Court was mindless chatter to Cassian’s ears and he tuned them out with political thoughts of his own. How many recruits did the camps have now? Was Devlon training the females? Were the rumours of an uprising true?

All throughout, one thought was stronger than the others.

Nesta.

Always, Nesta.

Between the mountains and Velaris lay the expansive wilderness where Nesta made her home. Part of Cassian’s schedule was to visit her on his flights between places but it had been months since he’d last seen her face.

Distance, he'd once told her, only makes my heart grow fonder. She'd rolled her eyes at the saccharine sentiment but a delightful blush spread on her cheeks which indicated she wasn't as stone-cold as she'd have others believe.

It was a half-truth on his part.

To say he longed for her was an understatement. Nesta occupied his mind continually and she now owned a space in his heart he once didn’t have for anyone. Distance made him yearn but it also made him cautious.

Nesta’s decision to live away from Velaris was something Cassian once thought as an attempt to distance herself from him. She wouldn’t return to the mountains, he understood why, but it was her refusal to come back to Velaris that surprised him as he thought she’d found some peace with the city.

Her refusal hadn’t been about Cassian, he understood that now. There had been an opportunity for her to regain her independence and, though she never expressed it aloud, a way for her to establish a new identity for herself in this world.

She took it.

Despite this, Cassian hoped she would eventually come back with him to Velaris. He hoped that this new version of Nesta was transferable and that she could thrive on the cobbled streets next to the shining river of his city as she had amongst the expanse of wildflowers.

It ate away at him, Nesta, however powerful, out in the nothing all alone. Still, if that thought ate at him than others consumed him, the gnawing set into motion by others he loved.

Will the bond last? Mor asked. It's uncommon for mates to be apart like this and unfair for one mate to deliberately part themselves from the other.

Nesta isn't a wing, he told Mor. Without her physical presence he still functioned and besides, the emotional connection was unbreakable.

I worry about you my friend; Rhys said. If I can't be with Feyre within minutes I don't know how I would bear the day.

Cassian deflected their words with a smile and a wave and clad himself in invisible armour.

He’d landed, finally, although hours later than he wanted. Sweat tricked down his back and face, his leathers clung to the thick muscles of his arms and thighs. The journey was over half a day’s flight from the city but he always made it in less.

The mountain peaks were visible from the wilderness but only barely, appearing so small it looked like an ant could crush them. There was a small forest and stream within walking distance but aside from those and a cottage it was nothing but thick stalked wild flowers for miles, colouring the landscape with pinks and yellows.

It was a combination of summer heat and protection spells which caused the cottage to shimmer.

Cassian had landed a slight distance away, wary of the protection magic that was always a little too keen to exert itself, and wandered through the flowers to the grey stone building ahead. Mor had expressed incredulity that Nesta hadn’t demanded a mansion with servants while Rhys joked, she was too sour to keep them even if she did.

Cassian ground his teeth but said nothing. Nesta’s experiences weren’t his to share, he justified.

Despite the poverty, despite going to bed with an aching belly and fears of starvation.0 the memories Nesta held of small cottages remained untainted. In mansions, she’d been dragged from her bed and forced to watch her sister drown before water then filled her own lungs. In palaces, she was made to recount those events to eager eared strangers. In tents, she listened to the screams of the dying.

It was those places where she’d started to lose piece after piece of herself until nothing remained.

It was this place, this small cottage, where Nesta found herself once more. The old Nesta flared again, a small spark which turned into wildfire.

Cassian let himself in, the latch opening to him easily.

The main living space doubled as kitchen and comfort. An overstuffed sofa sat in front of an oversized hearth with a butcher’s block next to it, complete with mortar and pestle and the fresh herbs Nesta gathered from her garden. Three rooms branched from this one. The first was the bathroom, the second Nesta’s bedroom and the third was empty.

There was no sign of Nesta and a glance through the window towards the garden showed Cassian that Nesta wasn’t there either. It was likely she’d grown impatient of waiting and had wandered to the woods to gather supplies.

Cassian weaved around the stacks of books, one pile fast becoming as tall as himself, to go find her when a heavy clunk of a handle sounded behind him. Nesta appeared from one of the smaller rooms, it just surprised him to see which one it was.

"Hey sweetheart," he drawled, "what were you doing in there?"

Something moved down the bond but Nesta had muted it somehow and Cassian could sense a sheer kinetic energy rumbling outside of his reach. She said nothing but took a deep breath before standing aside, leaving the room behind her open to his view.

***

The third room was no longer empty.

Cassian stood in the middle; every muscle tensed for battle; his wings snapped taut behind him.

Nesta had opened the window to clear the lingering musk and the beginnings of a soft summer breeze drifted in ruffling the delicate lace curtains that now hung from the frame.

The lazy dancing curtains were the only movement in the room. Cassian remaining locked in place with Nesta just as rigid beside him.

His heart started pound on the bones of his ribs, and he imagined it bursting straight out of his chest to land in a bloody heap on the floor.

The walls had been painted a soft yellow, reminding Cassian of the pats of butter served in small dishes when Feyre and Rhys had 'proper company.' The new bookcase and shelves, both empty, were a thick, rich cream.

His pulse beat out a rhythm on the roof of his mouth.

A rocking chair draped with a downy feathered blanket sat in the corner but the most prominent feature, positioned against the wall, stood the crib.

Waiting.

The pulse was behind his eyes now, the objects in his vision dancing as he heard the whispers that travelled down the bond. Nesta hadn't moved but those sharp blue-grey eyes stared at him all the same.

Were his legs always this clumsy? he wondered. Did he often give full control of his body to something else? Cassian was moving but they weren't his feet. He loomed over the crib like a grotesque gargoyle and touched a giant, calloused hand to the wood before reaching in to grasp at the blanket.

These weren't his hands, he decided. His were designed to clutch the handles of blades, to wrap around throats and squeeze until faces turned blue. They weren't meant to touch small blankets embroidered with bees.

I can rip this with both hands, he thought. Turn it into shreds within seconds. I am the Lord of Bloodshed and I tear things apart.

His pulse pounded in his ears now, his tongue feeling like it had engorged in his mouth ready to block his windpipe and choke him like he'd choked many others. Nesta was glaring and throwing her panic at him until he swallowed it down.

His knuckles had turned white clenching the blanket. Cassian envisioned a small body, sleeping and breathing and dreaming in this bed, relying on Cassian's hands to hold it, to keep it safe.

There was no more air in the room, no more breath in his lungs and his ears were filled with the beat of his own heartbeat, and Nesta's, and now one other joining them.

***

The later afternoon sun had dipped and outdoors had cooled significantly which was welcome, the open blue sky more so.

They were in Nesta's small garden, amongst the vegetables and flowers, and yet it wasn't obvious to Cassian how they arrived.

His chest hurt, he remembered that. His lungs were burning like flames had leapt down his throat and scorched everything they touched. He'd been grasping at his skin, digging his nails into the hollow of his throat to claw a way for the air.

Cassian walked out here. He must have. Nesta following.

She stood in front of him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, the pulse in her wrists jumping. Cassian viewed every beat so clearly from his vantage point on the ground, the solid hard ground where he'd crumbled.

The breeze, the one which had danced around the curtains in the nursery -- dear Mother, the nursery -- was as welcome as a kiss from a long-lost lover as it caressed across his wings.

Come, it sang, fly away. The sky is yours.

Something else was singing, no screaming, down the bond but Cassian pushed it down. Panic had emanated from Nesta, rolling off her in waves and he thought he could handle it. But now, after he fled from the cottage, she was drowning him.

On the surface she appeared ready for battle, her face as sharp as one of Cassian's blades and as deadly. Had she spoken? Her voice was small as though she wasn't close at all but standing miles away, the words travelling through wind and across the mountains.

From their positions, his knees digging in the dirt, his face was level with her stomach. One glance was all he allowed himself before his eyes darted away.

Nesta still looked like Nesta. There was no glow or scent to her skin, no softness to her face or additional roundness to her already full curves. Her abdomen remained flat, giving no sign of the life existing within, the life that Cassian helped create.

It would be smaller than one of my fingers, he thought and his wings twitched. The breeze and the sky calling him to freedom.

She'd seen.

The noise fogging his mind was cleared away by a sudden blast of magic.

Nesta's voice reached his ears clearer this time.

"What exactly are you intending to do?" Her tone was so chilled he was amazed his flesh didn't blacken from frostbite.

Cassian dug his hands into the ground before lifting them to cover his face. The fresh grass and earth lingered on his fingertips, and he inhaled deeply in an attempt to tether himself.

What did he intend to do? His thoughts splintered, images and names racing through every possibility he considered. Fly away, he told himself, fly to the mountains, fly home to Velaris, fly, fly, fly.

Rhys would know what to do.

Rhys always knew what to do, as did Mor. He would seek them out and get them to decide what was best. Their presence would be a soothing balm for him and while not quite as soothing for Nesta they had an authority she would have to acknowledge. Rhys and Mor would know what is best, he thought. Nesta wouldn't think so at first but they would want to be involved.

Everything would be easier for all of them this way.

He wanted to explain but it was hard to concentrate, the whirling tornado of his mind pierced with the frozen shards of Nesta's. The more he thought of Rhys and Mor, the more the breeze turned into a wind whipping across his wings.

"We can't do this," he found himself saying. "I can't do this; you can't do this." Here. Alone. That's what he meant to add but his voice cracked and the words wouldn't come.

He dropped his hands and glanced up at her, his Nesta. On her face she wore something close to devastation, not even an expression he'd seen after the Cauldron when she was trying to bathe again, laying sprawled and soaking on the floor of the bathroom.

Her words came without hesitation.

"Get out," she hissed. The sharpness she pushed through the bond at him was done with intent. If she had been ice before then Cassian couldn't describe this now, other than a swift stab to his gut with a spike.

The link between them was now blocked.

"Nesta...." he trailed off. The wind hurt now, cold and stinging against the membranes of his shivering wings. There was a violence, an unnaturalness to it, and Cassian understood underestimating Nesta was a dangerous thing.

The surrounding torrents blew stands of her hair from her braid and ruffled her dress but didn't make much else of an impact, her body remained upright and unyielding while Cassian's began to bend.

There was a chance to stop it. Nesta's magic could have been blocked with his siphons, and he could have stood, placed his hands on her arms and told her all this was a misunderstanding.

He didn't do any of them.

Nesta had offered him an opportunity to flee and so, while her storm raged around her small garden, Cassian opened his wings and let it carry him off into the sky.

***

It was evening when Cassian returned.

The brilliant blue of the mid-afternoon sky had turned into a deep navy with streaks of ruby from the setting sun.

Everything was silent, that silence extending to their connection through the bond.

Now, when he reached out it was as though he were touching the abyss. Whatever else she might do from this point onwards; retreating from him and blocking the bond was something Nesta had already done.

Earlier, when he'd left, he'd flown over the wilderness and was halfway back to Velaris when he changed his mind. His flight was half to clear his mind and half to flee to sanctuary.

He couldn't complete his journey and continuously turned round over and over in the sky, battling with himself. To fly forward or back was the question he struggled to answer.

Could he not do both?

Now he was calmer he would explain to Nesta it was more dangerous for her to be alone during this... situation. Perhaps what happened in the garden was a lack of control, her hormones playing havoc on her abilities.

He couldn't leave her here, unable to defend herself properly if the need arose. She couldn't go with him to the Steppes, not now, but maybe he would be able to convince her to be under the protection of Rhys and Feyre.

Nesta wouldn't love his plan but this was a plan put in place because of how much he loved her.

That was the intention.

He'd landed heavier than before, an extra burden pressing down on his shoulders. Everything remained unchanged from earlier aside from when he neared the cottage and he felt a new pressure on his body.

His wings flared on instinct, to brace himself against an invisible enemy’s onslaught but none came. Each step was as though he was trudging through mud, each one clunkier than before. When he reached the border of Nesta's boundary he realised he could no longer move.

When Cassian turned to walk back where he came, the strain lifted and, along with it, so did his feet.

He tested this a few times, the weight growing with every effort he made towards the cottage until he had to give up. When he did and turned back, the feeling his spine was going to snap into two melted away.

Nesta’s shields were always up but until this point her magic had never extended to Cassian.

She'd blocked him from reaching her, physically and through the bond. He stood outside staring at the grey stones of her walls wondering if she knew he was here.

She knows, he thought. She just doesn't care.

He'd left her for a moment, for a stupid moment, and now she'd rejected him absolutely.

Cassian convinced himself Nesta’s powers were unpredictable and this was adding to the evidence she should be among others. He was sure when she realised, she would lift her barriers and come to him.

So, he waited.

She never came.

***

The summer in Illyria had been brutal and so had Cassian. The sun scorched his skin and he fought through sweat soaked leathers, pounding his knuckles into the flesh of other Illyrians, his brethren, until the heat made his head throb.

It was only when the trainees were on the verge of collapse did he allow them to rest.

His reputation of fearsome was fast becoming one of cruelty; but he didn't stop, couldn't stop, until one day he observed an Illyrian child watching him, all skinny scabbed knees and curious eyes.

Cassian reached out a bloodied, bandaged hand as a gesture to show the boy some defence moves only for the child to flinch and curl his small, developing wings around himself as some form of meagre protection.

At that point, Cassian knew he had to temporarily turn the reigns over to Devlon, however reluctantly. His head wasn't where it should have been, thoughts of Nesta and the long silence between them which now lasted over a month had taken prominent place.

He hadn't attempted to reach out to her.

It was best, he decided, to leave everything until she was ready. This situation’s resolution had to be on her terms. But there was something else stopping him. He didn't want to discuss what they evidently needed to discuss, and he was scared, that if he tried to connect with her, she would refuse him again.

He would protect himself for the pain of her rejection by not giving her the chance to reject him at all.

Cassian had arrived back in Velaris in the afternoon, the new autumn air holding the residual warmth from summer within the city. He stood on top of the House of Wind, letting the breeze drift across his wings. He'd arrived without notifying anyone, not that there were many to notify. Feyre, Rhys and Az remained in the Dawn Court and Amren had decided to live out an eternal summer in the Summer Court itself.

He didn't mind. He wanted to take a moment, to gaze out on the place he called home and feast upon the red brick rooftops and shining surface of the Sidra without interruption.

Velaris was always a welcome sight and returning was the equivalent of someone throwing a blanket over Cassian’s shoulders to ward off the chill. This time though, it was as though the cold wind he’d experienced at Nesta’s had stalked him via his bones.

Something was disjointed now. He was happy to see his city but Velaris didn't hold the same thrill of excitement he usually experienced. Now it was as though it was a muted song, still remaining a pretty melody but harder to hear.

Was this how Nesta experienced Velaris? Or did she view it with more ambivalence? Was the city received with vitriol? Less a song and more a scream.

He thought of her, as he always did, alone in her cottage but now not alone. He'd learnt to turn the thoughts off quick; the pang in his chest made him want to cry.

Perhaps his sadness radiated outwards or maybe there was a part of him which called for help without realising but as he stared outwards, a soft and warm hand slid through his unwinding his clenched fingers.

"Hello, you."

Cassian looked down to see the golden hair of his best friend as she rested her head against his arm.

"Hello, Mor." His voice didn't crack but it was close.

She raised her face, her smile slipping into a frown. "Oh, my darling," she said. "I sensed you were back in Velaris but thought it was strange you didn't come to say hello."

Mor studied him for a moment, those deep brown eyes of hers absorbing every inch of his face, seeking out the truth which wouldn't take her long to find.

"You've had a fight with Nesta. A serious one."

It wasn't a question, Mor already knew the answer.

The years had melted away some animosity but it would be a lie to say it had disappeared. Time had patched over the intensity but was unable to purge the resentment completely.

Nesta removing herself from Velaris had gone some way to soothe the mutual dislike but the resolution was more a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind’ than any deeper healing.

Cassian knew Mor had felt a sting of rejection when he and Nesta had bonded and on some level, she had taken it as a strike to their friendship. Mor had advised him all those years ago to not accept the bond, and he'd proceeded regardless. Her fear, she told him, was that Nesta would burn him out with her anger.

Mor's concerns were from a place of love, but he'd accepted the bond from a place of his love. Besides, there was a kernel of truth in Nesta's statement to him that Mor didn't want to lose the life she'd spent centuries crafting and how Cassian was part of that.

Even though, regarding him and Nesta, there was part of Mor waiting for what she deemed inevitable but Cassian chose to ignore the tinge of hope he heard in her voice at her statement.

"Yes," he replied, "but it was my fault. I didn't respond to the news particularly well."

"What news?"

The truth would out, how could it not? Before his cowardice crept in again, he told Mor everything and watched as her eyes grew wider.

"Cas," she breathed and stepped in front of him, her arms stretching around his body, her cheek pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her as tight as he could. He needed this; he needed a friend.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he confessed. "I don't know if I want to do this at all."

The memory of the small child he had once been morphed into the image of the boy he had inadvertently terrified at the camps. That image warped again into something smaller and more precious, an image he quickly discarded.

"Death and destruction are my talents; I doubt I'd be soothing anyone's pain away with kisses and cuddles." He let out a mirthless laugh.

Mor pulled back, standing on her toes, so she could reach her hands to his face and positioning him to look at her. "You're the best of us, Cass. You have so much love to give anyone. You love without question, defend without question and you'd die for those you love. I don't expect you'd do anything less for your child."

She squeezed his cheeks together until he grinned at the ridiculous expression she was making him wear. "You'll make a wonderful father; I know you will."

Mor let go of his face and stepped back into his arms for another hug. Cassian held onto her words as tightly as he held onto her.

"I wish Nesta were in Velaris," he sighed.

Mor tensed in his arms.

"Oh."

"She's strong but the wilderness is no place for a pregnant female. I don't think isolation is the best place for her right now. Or for a baby."

"I agree," Mor said. "So, bring the baby here. We have space in every one of the houses for a nursery, two nurseries if you want. And we have Nuala and Ceridwen on hand. Plus, the rest of us will dote on it and when you need to go to the camps any one of us will protect it with our lives. Can you imagine such a fantastic life in Velaris, with all these aunts and uncles around?"

Something wiggled its way through his stomach, an unease which twisted like a worm. Cassian let his arms loose from Mor's body. "And Nesta."

"What?"

"Nesta will need to be here too."

Mor stepped back with a look on her face that told him she'd tried to forget Nesta was part of the equation and didn't want to be reminded. It disappeared fast into a practiced smile. "Of course," Mor waved her hand in the air like she was batting away a fly. "And Nesta, of course."

"Except I don't think she'd come," Cassian continued, watching as Mor marched to the roof edge to look down. Her body was as rigid as Nesta's had been when he had last seen her.

"Make her."

"Mor..."

"What?" Mor turned to face Cassian. "It's not just her anymore, is it? If she wasn't so selfish, if she wasn't so..." she trailed off.

Cassian's skin began to itch, like he had grown too large for it and now it wanted to split open. His tongue pressed upwards against the ridges of his mouth where his pulse began to click.

A forced smile slipped onto Mor's face. "I just mean, she's renowned for being stubborn but sometimes, in the past, her actions haven't exactly been beneficial for her, have they? Right now, she's being stubborn and though that may benefit her, it's not benefiting you or the baby. It makes sense for her to be in Velaris at this stage, so she has immediate access to healers. You just need to convince her this is for her own good."

"Even if I do, she won't stay."

"Don't make her."

His head began to hurt again, the heartbeat a pressure against the back of his eyes. "Mor, you're not making sense. First you're telling me to make her come here and now you're telling me I can't make her stay."

"Once she's here and can see how much better it would be for the baby to be in Velaris she might stay," Mor's voice conveyed enthusiasm even if her face didn't. "But if she decides she doesn't want to stay she doesn't have to. Nesta may realise it would be better for everyone if the baby was here. Think of all you can give it; think of all we can give it. What can Nesta provide in her hovel in the middle of a field? If she wants to go back let her, but she shouldn't be allowed to force that life on your child."

What he experienced with Nesta in her garden came back in an instant. His heart beating hard against his ribcage, the pulse reverberating into his skull, while his breath squeezed from his lungs.

There was an emergence of something he hadn't felt towards Mor before, something which itched and crawled in his skin the more she spoke.

"I can't begin to fathom what she'd be like as a mother, Cass. You would have all the love in the world for your child, but would she? How fit is she? Do we want to wait to find out?"

If there was a spark which existed in Nesta that turned into the occasional furnace then it was true the same could be said for him. The difference was Nesta was ice until she became fire, Cassian was warmth until he became flame.

In Cassian’s mind lived a million images of Nesta but there were always ones he visited first. She'd held his hand once on a battlefield, tended to his wounds with gentle fingers. She'd pressed her body against his ready to die with him.

When he'd been poisoned in the Illyrian civil war, she'd stayed with him when the troops moved camps, knowing he was too ill to fly and too weak to fight.

During one of Cassian’s first trips to her cottage she spoke about her plans to make a little garden all the while chopping vegetables for a broth that was his favourite.

Her cheeks blushed a dusky pink and her hair looked orange against the firelight. Cassian thought if Nesta had any siphons that would have been their colour, flame for a creature of heat and warmth.

His siphons, the seven red ones, were now glowing.

"Cass?" Mor's voice was concerned.

Mor’s words had pierced his skin like poisonous barbs and though the venom wasn't intended for him, he was not immune. Still, it alarmed him, that some primal part existed within to trigger his power. It was only his reflexes caused the surge to mute.

"What's happening?" Mor's voice was small and croaked, the verge of a teary outburst imminent. He wasn't the only one alarmed at the indication that some part of him wanted to blast his lifelong best friend from the rooftop.

"I think we're done."

Nesta, while never fond of Mor, hadn't said a word about the other female since moving away. Part of her healing was to let go of what caused her pain, and she had deemed Mor something to let drift away.

These words Mor said freely stung him. Cassian and Nesta had chosen to honour the bond and so when Nesta was struck then Cassian must also suffer the blow. Although there was a consequence of their love living in Nesta's body that he didn't want to face, it didn't negate his love for Nesta.

"I have to go."

"Cass, please... wait!"

The siphons had dimmed, back fully under Cassian's control and Mor ran forward, clutching at his arms with wide eyes as the ripples of her panic spread thick throughout the surrounding air.

Mor called after his retreating back even as he took to the sky. The irony didn't escape him, that for the second time in several months Cassian flew away from a female he loved.

***

Every morning Cassian was drenched in sweat like he’d been fighting through the night.

Screams echoed in his mind along with the splashing of water as Nesta sank beneath the Cauldron, Hybern’s leering face never far away. Dreaming of memories was nothing new but now as the images raced through his mind, he dreamt Nesta with a swollen stomach and as she screamed it was followed by the shriek of a baby’s cry.

Cassian had tried not to dwell on what Mor had said, the questioning of Nesta’s ability to mother, although those images also came unbidden. He saw an empty crib, a baby lying on the cold ground while Nesta walked away and Cassian remained absent.

He shook those thoughts away and sharpened his anger at himself and at Mor for forcing these thoughts into his head.

Cassian had managed to flee from two females but now, three weeks after his encounter with Mor, he actively sought out a third.

Elain lived on the estate of Feyre and Rhys’ river house and had done so for decades.

There was a complicated history between Az and Lucian, of which Cassian didn’t know the full details. Whenever he’d asked Nesta, she pursed her lips like she was sucking on something sour and refused to say a word.

Cassian assumed Nesta was upset that Elain chose to reside so close to Feyre and Rhys, that she hadn’t wanted to forge ahead with her own path. But Cassian never understand why Elain would want to be anywhere else when everything she needed was at their doorstep.

A cottage had been built for Elain in the gardens, some considerable distance from the house to allow for privacy for all residents. Thick trunked trees and tall flowers took care of the rest and the walls were draped with wisteria, covering everything aside from the windows and doors. If you weren’t looking, you wouldn’t have known it existed.

The door was wide open, as if she knew he would come, and Cassian stepped inside the stone floored hallway and followed Elain’s humming to where she stood in the kitchen. Her back was to him, her golden-brown hair so like Nesta’s, loose down her back and scattered with greenery. Elaine didn’t turn to greet him, concentrating on arranging flowers in a vase even as she spoke.

“Shame you and Mor still aren’t speaking.”

Cassian hadn’t spoken to anyone about their argument and to his knowledge, neither had Mor. He shouldn’t be surprised that Elain knew, Elain had a strange way of knowing everything but she sounded far too pleased about the development for her sympathies to hold true.

“Mor spoke out of turn.”

“Doesn’t she always?”

“Yes, but...” Cassian trailed off. Yes, but this time she went too far. This time. This time. To say it was a sad acknowledgement of the other times and the shameful fact he’d let them slide.

Elain turned, waiting for the completion of a sentence she knew he wouldn’t finish.

She was usually the gentlest of the sisters but there was nothing gentle about Elain at this moment. Out of the Archeron’s, it was Nesta and Feyre who looked most alike but there was something currently hard and cold about Elain that reminded him of his mate. His chest ached.

“Why are you here?” Elain’s tone was sharp, dismissive as though Cassian were a greenfly on her rose bushes she needed to squash out.

“I need your help.”

Elain raised a delicate eyebrow and leant back on the wooden table behind her, her fingers trailing through the flowers laid across it. “Go on.”

“I’m worried for Nesta, she’s all alone in her cottage and too far from help if she needs it - not that she’d ask for it, which is a concern itself.” He sighed at Elain’s immoveable expression. “I just want her to be someplace safe, just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

All the images rushed in at once, all his fears. Just in case someone breaks in and drags her out of her bed, just in case someone throws her into the cauldron, just in case someone tries to poison her, tries to set her cottage on fire, just in case she gets ill.

“Just in case she can’t cope.”

“You think you can’t?”

Cassian groaned and tugged his hands through his hair. “I don’t know! But at least if she can’t and she’s here then she’d have you and Feyre. Well at least you, Feyre is barely here.”

“And you?”

“What?”

“And you? You’ll be here and ‘not away.’”

“Yes, yes of course. And me.”

Elain picked up a flower, a cream one with splashes of pink, and twirled it. She seemed to be fixated on the petals as they spun, round and round, as the silence grew in the room. Eventually she spoke.

“You want me to convince her to come here and you think she’ll listen to me because it’s me.” It was almost a whisper how soft she spoke it.

The scene changed so fast.

Splotches of crimson appeared on Elain’s neck and Cassian watched her fingers tighten around the stem of the flower. “It’s history repeating all over again. Drag us to Velaris because you want it, exile us to the camps because you want it.” She scoffed. “And so, she comes to Velaris, for what? Nesta will watch as Feyre and Mor and Rhys cluck over the baby because it’s yours while they try and forget that Nesta had anything to do with it.”

Cassian’s mouth dropped open, a void had formed between his brain and mouth and no words took shape.

“We can’t just be shuffled around like pieces on a game board for whenever suits the High Lord.”

“I haven’t.... I don’t.... I haven’t spoken to Rhys about it. I don’t even think he knows Nesta is even.... it’s my idea. Mine. To keep her safe.”

Elain let out a shuddering breath and released her fist. The flower, its stem now a green pulp, slid from her hand and landed on the floor. “Do you believe that Nesta isn’t safe where she is?”

Cassian thought of the expanse of blue sky over Nesta’s head, the mountains looming in the distance and the dark green tops of the woods. The fields were filled with nothing but wildflowers and aside from her little stone cottage and garden there was nothing for miles and no one but Nesta.

He could imagine the sound of the wooden door breaking, the splintering as the wood split as fae forced their way in. It hadn’t happened but ‘yet’ was never a word far from his mind.

Her magic was strong though and her will greater.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, “but I do know I want her here.”

“That’s even worse,” Elain said looking him straight in the eye, her voice taking a harder quality. “No. Until Nesta herself wants to come back I won’t be involved in asking her. I’m not going to conspire with you or with anyone to take away her freedom no matter how desperate you are.”

She grabbed the vase and pushed past Cassian, “I’m grateful she was even able to get out.” She placed the vase on a ledge and stared at it for a moment before facing Cassian again. “Do you want this for her?” She gestured around.

Cassian couldn’t understand what was wrong with ‘this.’ A home, safe in the grounds of their High Lord and Lady. Constant protection and constant company. If they built a cottage next door to Elain than all sisters would be in the same place. Nesta didn’t even need to live in the house if she didn’t want.

He sighed, the truth edging free. “I don’t. She’d hate it.” He scrubbed a calloused hand over his face, “I just don’t know what to do. Maybe Rhys and Feyre will tell me, they always know what to do.”

A snort, far from ladylike, emitted from Elain. “They would bend everyone to their will if they could, trap everyone in this place until it suits them.” A faraway look entered her eyes, “I should be with Lucian, in Spring, Day and Autumn, floating between them all like a butterfly. They have such beautiful colour.”

There was another moment of silence, wherever Elain was she was no longer with Cassian. “Elain,” he asked, “why are you here?”

It was an assumption on his part that she loved living in the Night Court, that her heart was here along with her body.

His question snapped her back to him and she scoffed again. “I’m a piece of the game they play with Lucian, of course. An heir to Autumn, an advisor to Spring and the sole heir to Day? Mother forbid he decides to not play nice with Rhys.” Vitriol spilled from Elain’s tone. “Feyre, sweet childish, Feyre thinks I want to be here because that’s what Rhys has convinced her to think and your precious Morrigan lost her best buffer between her and Az so she needed another one. Don’t think I didn’t hear her egging Rhys on to keep me here.”

He didn’t know. Truly didn’t. That Elain was held in a prison of flowers and pleasantries. Cassian knew that her and Lucian hadn’t an easy start to their mating bond, there was some entanglement with Az yes, but this was always her choice.

It worried him how little he knew.

Maybe Elain detected something in him as her eyes softened. “People respond in extreme ways when they’re scared,” Elain continued. “You and Nesta have that in common. Unfortunately, she’s significantly more stubborn than you.”

Elain took one of the flowers from the vase and crossed over to where he stood, tucking it into a band of his armour, the peach petals a strange sight against charred black leather. At least he wasn’t completely without Elain’s grace.

“Have you tried to contact Nesta?” she asked him. “Really tried?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then I don’t want to see you again until you have.”

***

Immortality and time were complicated bedfellows. One moved quick and left the other one floundering. What were years when there were so many decades? What were decades when you could live centuries?

Months were nothing. Weeks even less.

Feyre, Rhys and Az had arrived back from Dawn at the full change of the season. The greens of the trees had long turned gold and red and now, another cusp awaited. The trees grew barer and the petals had long since fallen from their stalks.

This was the longest he’d gone without speaking to Mor and he hadn’t tried to approach Elain again.

This was also the longest he’d gone without Nesta and Cassian believed he would have suffered less if someone slid a blade between his ribs.

He trained at the House of Wind; he ambled through Velaris. His body was one place and his thoughts another. He was in the training arena when Rhys returned.

“I’d say congratulations my friend but I don’t think that’s what you’d want me to say.”

Rhys was leaning against the wall, a grin on his face. Cassian sighed. He was in little to no mood for one of Rhys’ cocky moments.

“I don’t think I deserve a congratulations.”

“Well I’m sure you had some involvement in this escapade.”

Cassian grit his teeth. The conceiving of a child between mates wasn’t something he would refer to as an ‘escapade’ but he could hardly defend himself.

“Funny,” Rhys continued, “how the Mother works. Some she blesses with the joy of motherhood and some she curses with a joyless mother.”

That feeling wormed its way again into Cassian’s stomach, irritation? Frustration? Whatever it was, it was an ever-increasing desire to take his knuckles and smash them into Rhys’ sculptured cheekbones.

“How was your trip?”

It was deflection at its finest and Cassian watched as Rhys’ face sparked. “Excellent. We managed to get what we wanted and Feyre decided to-”

Cassian let Rhys’ voice drift into one ear and out the other. He didn’t care about the trip or negotiations or whatever wealth Rhys managed to accumulate for the Night Court. He didn’t care for what silks and jewels Feyre was now re-gifting. He wanted to ask his friend, his brother in all but blood; ‘Was the Cauldron wrong in choosing us? Will I make a good father? Will Nesta be a good mother?’

He couldn’t. He couldn’t show his High Lord that Cassian, General and Commander of his armies, was scared of something he could cradle in the nook of his arm. It was like a dying dog showing its bare throat to a hungry wolf.

“I’m disappointed to hear from Mor that you aren’t speaking to her though.” Cassian snapped back into the present.

Cassian shrugged and leant on the wall opposite. “We had a disagreement,” he said as disinterested as he could.

“Well she’s upset. Make it better.”

There, Cassian’s skin prickled again, his blood burning hot in his veins. Rhys not knowing, or worse, not caring why the silence occurred in the first place. Cassian’s feelings were irrelevant in this situation and what Mor said about Nesta seemed to be no concern.

Rhys had moved the conversation on again, such surety that Cassian would call to heel. Cassian thought of Elain slowly crushing flowers.

It was at the mention of Nesta’s name that Cassian dipped back in.

“They had a ‘disagreement’ too and now she won’t speak with Feyre either. Whatever slim thread of rationality that your female had has now completely gone and Feyre is distraught.”

Of course, Feyre had made this about herself. Of course, she has. Cassian’s thought was so like Nesta’s voice that he wondered if Nesta had re-opened the bond, even for a minute, to listen to his conversation. But the walls were still up and it was just his own voice inside his head.

“I told Feyre being ignored by Nesta isn’t such a bad thing,” Rhys chuckled and then stopped at Cassian’s look. “Sorry, my friend.” Rhys leant across and rested his hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “I jest.”

Yes, and he always did. Joke after joke. Time after time. Small barbs of poison like Mor’s that landed on Cassian’s skin and sank into his bloodstream.

“She tried to convince Nesta to come to Velaris. Feyre’s also tried to convince Elain to get involved because she’s the only one Nesta is speaking with. Elain wouldn’t have it,” Rhys shook his head. “She’s becoming more like Nesta each passing day.” He let out a sigh. “Were it the other way round.”

Would Rhys want that? Cassian pondered. Nesta stuck in a cottage on his estate, nursing an infant at her breast and glaring at him as he approached. It would be more than flowers Nesta would be crushing. Cassian suppressed a grin at the thought.

“I wouldn’t want that for her,” Cassian said.

“What? You wouldn’t want a safe, contented life for her? Not that she’ll be content with anything.”

Cassian thought of the turn of last autumn and Nesta joyfully showing him a full basket of berries she’d picked and how she planned to turn them into jam. There was a sharp tug, right under his rib cage and he brought his hand up, pressing his palm against it.

Rhys had noticed the movement, the arrogant smirk finally sliding from his face. What little love he had for Nesta, he still had volumes for Cassian and his friend in pain wasn’t something Rhys would revel in.

“I can bring her into Velaris if you want?” His voice was solemn. “Talking her into it won’t work but I can command her as High Lord and she wouldn’t be able to refuse.”

There was a part of Cassian that leapt at the offer. Nesta would be safe among the Inner Circle, she would have Elain as company and eventually she would speak to Feyre again. She’d be safe.

She would also hate Cassian for the rest of their lives.

“No,” he replied, “I couldn’t do that to her.”

Rhys shrugged. “If that’s what you want. If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll do it for you and Feyre. And for the child. I can’t be entirely convinced Nesta wouldn’t eat her own young.”

***

Cassian was really living up to his reputation of violence and brutality. The blood, not his own, that he washed from his fist turned the water a pale pink at the bottom of the bowl. It had been an hour, maybe less, since the rooftop ‘conversation’ with Rhys.

There was a soft noise from the corner of Cassian’s suite, an exhalation of air that could have been either a disappointed sigh or restrained laugh. “So, you’re getting into fights with Rhys now?”

“Yes,” Cassian replied, “and once I’ve cleaned up, I’m going to go back to the roof to continue my brooding before I was so rudely interrupted.”

There was a definite chuckle and Az stepped from the shadows, a smile gracing his mouth. “Don’t go swapping talents with me now, I’d hate to have to go around punching my High Lord in the face.”

“Rhys has a nose like a rock, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

The smile slid from Az’s face as he came closer, stepping next to Cassian in the designated wash corner of his room. The ornate mirror, some monstrosity chosen by Rhys or Feyre, hung above the basin and Cassian could see both his and Az’s reflections on the surface.

“I’m worried about you, brother,” Cassian watched and then felt, as Az’s scarred hand came to rest on Cassian’s shoulder with a comforting squeeze.

Cassian felt his jaw lock into place, he didn’t want to engage in another discussion today that wouldn’t go well for either party. “I’ll warn you now, if you want to be dismissive about Nesta this won’t go well.”

Az raised his hands in surrender. “Why would I be dismissive about Nesta? She’s your mate and soon to be mother of your child. Besides,” he said with a grin, “I’m not stupid.”

Cassian snorted and turned, giving Az an affectionate thump on the arm before picking up a dry cloth and walking over to his bed. He sat on the cover, scrubbing his hands dry, minding the broken skin on his knuckles. “Go tell that to Rhys and Mor.”

Az’s grin slipped away and he walked to sit beside Cassian. “Rhys knows he crossed a line and that you were defending your pregnant mate. I’m sure that’s why he didn’t hit back.”

“It was a long time coming,” the words were a truth that Cassian had taken an even longer time realising. He was filled with shame at how long.

“Yes,” Az replied, “it was.”

Cassian didn’t hide his flinch.

“Mor however doesn’t understand what she’s done wrong.”

Cassian buried his face in his hands. “Of course, she doesn’t. I’ve let her get away with comments about Nesta for years, decades even. But they’re questioning Nesta’s ability as a mother now, damning her before she’s even had a chance to prove them wrong.”

“You’re sure she’ll prove them wrong?”

“I know she will.”

“Then why not wait and let the evidence speak for itself?”

“Because I know Nesta wouldn’t want them thinking this about her, I don’t want them thinking this about her.” The next part came out as a whisper, “I don’t want to think this about her.”

Az raised an eyebrow, “You’ve thought she’ll make a terrible mother?”

“It’s crossed my mind but then I don’t think I should be anyone’s father.” He paused. “We shouldn’t be having a baby.”

There. It was what on been on his mind the second he knew about its existence.

Never mind the enemies they’d collected over the years, what if he and Nesta managed to emotionally damage the child beyond repair? What if they hurt it physically? What if it died? What if Cassian died and left it fatherless the same way Cassian had been?

He couldn’t hide how much he lived for war. It called to his blood. In times of peace he worried he was bored, worried the bloodshed was too invigorating. That’s why he craved Nesta’s company and the eternal battles using their words.

Nesta never tried to turn him into a creature of peace but instead provided an outlet for his energy, even their card games by the fire turned itself into fierce competition where only one would hold ultimate dominion.

They were happy. It just wasn’t an environment for a child.

“You won’t be ‘any’ child’s father though Cass,” Az said, “and Nesta won’t be ‘any’ child’s mother. It’s a child of you both, it will exist as part of you both.” It was like Az had read his mind, “Whichever way you raise it will be the right way – for you both and the baby.”

“I ran from her.”

“You can run back.”

“I wanted her to come here.”

“Are you going to make her?”

Cassian shook his head with vehemence. “Never.”

A hand clapped him on the back. “My friend, you’ve known for a long time what needs to be done, now you need to stop avoiding Nesta and face your future. It’s a glorious one.”

“Our resident seer has seen that has she?” It was a joke said with a smile, a way to lighten the tension of the room but Cassian saw Az’s face grow sombre. Az once loved Elain, maybe still did, but he clearly had his own issues he’d been avoiding.

“You could ask her. Even better, you could make it happen itself.”

“I need to talk to Nesta,” Cassian said, “truly talk to her.”

“You have this,” Az told him, “both the conversation and fatherhood. Nesta and you, you’re well matched. It’s agony to be around at times, but you’re well matched.”

Cassian clapped a hand onto his friends back, “You are my favourite Az, just don’t let any of the others know.”

***

The feeling was like someone had come along and removed rocks from his shoulders. Purpose, Cassian decided, gave you strength.

His leathers were on, his windows wide open and Cassian had finished wrapping his newly retrieved bundle into the satchel on his bed when Elain walked in.

He started, amazed at how she trod so gently that his fae ears couldn’t hear her approach.

Elain’s hair was bundled into a messy bun, sprigs of mistletoe decorating the strands. She’d switched to winter clothes, thicker material but still softer colours and it was jarring to see the pale pastel blues against the dark wood of Cassian’s rooms.

Cassian hadn’t thought that Elain even knew where his rooms were.

“Can you give Nesta this? She’s got back ache and I told her I’d send her some Scia Root.” Elain held out a lumpy muslin cloth tied with ribbon.

Cassian frowned as he took it. He’d realised after his conversation with Az that he was ready to go to Nesta, to grovel and beg her forgiveness. He would have thrown himself down at her feet if he needed to but he’d kept his intentions to see her quiet, telling no one.

“How did you-,” he trailed off. There was no point in asking. Elain just knew what Elain knew. He felt a sliver of something along his spine, maybe there were other reasons Rhys didn’t want Elain and Lucian together. All that power. All those Courts.

It wasn’t his concern. Elain’s comments about Nesta’s back ache however was and he shoved the roots into the side of the satchel. There was much he missed and Nesta’s body changing and the baby growing were two of those things.

Elain stood at the end of his bed, head cocked and smiling. “The baby will have your eyes you know.”

His breath stopped short, hands stilling on the strap of the satchel that he was adjusting to fit his width.

“And Nesta’s smile,” Elain continued. “I know that seems a contradiction but you’ve seen it, she has a beautiful smile.”

He had. It was. Rare but like most gifts, the most precious were rare.

He knew that there would be a baby. Obviously. His focus had been on how small, and fragile it was, how him and Nesta had unlimited potential to let it down. He’d just never really considered it as a separate entity, one comprised of him and Nesta and a whole component that would be uniquely its own.

He swallowed over the lump in his throat. “You’ve seen a vision of the future then?”

“Oh yes,” Elain replied and Cassian watched as she ambled about his room looking at every artifact she could see, her fingers touching every surface.

“Is she smiling in this vision of yours?”

“Nesta? Oh yes. The baby smiles a lot too. It’s very loved.”

“Good, that’s.... good.” He said the words flippantly, as though his heart weren’t pounding in his chest again, as though the spots of light hadn’t re-entered his line of vision. “Am I in this vision?”

Elain stopped in her meandering and turned to face him, those deep brown eyes of hers, bottomless with what they could now see, scanned his face. “It depends Cassian.”

“On what?”

“On whether you want to be.”

He’d had enough debates with Rhys and Az on fate versus free will to last him a thousand lifetimes over, often with him arguing the power of the Mother. In this moment he would argue the other way. The future was in the hands of those who would carve it out for themselves.

“Yes, I do,” he replied. “It’s taken me too long to realise it.”

“It took the time it needed.”

Cassian wanted to reassure Elain that he was ready and if there were times he wasn’t then he would make himself ready.

He wanted to say that he would always defend Nesta, he should have always defended Nesta and that he would murder and maim before he let anyone rip Nesta and their baby away from the place Nesta considered home and that included those he considered family.

He didn’t say all this because he suspected Elain already knew and besides, those words needed to be for someone else.

Before he left, he turned to Elain as she stood, having moved to the window next to him to watch the first flakes of snow.

“I hope-” he began and trailed off. “I mean for you and Lucian that-” again he stopped. Words weren’t his strength. Elain didn’t turn around but he saw her nod and a slight smile in the reflection of the glass.

It was a smile that spoke of war yet to come.

***

The wilderness was covered with blankets of thick white snow and spiked patterns of frost. Icicles hung from the branches of the forest trees and the ground was long in its sleep, not a trace of life to be seen.

The flakes that swirled around him as he flew caught in his hair and eyelashes until all he saw were blurs of white.

To say not a trace of life was incorrect because life bloomed in the cottage in front of him. Smoke billowed from the chimney and lights shone from every window lighting up the place like a solstice tree against the darkening sky.

Cassian squeezed the satchel strap until his knuckles turned white before he took a deep breath and strode forward. He felt himself pass though the magic barrier, the one that shielded Nesta from unwanted visitors, the one she’s turned on him all those months ago.

He didn’t know whether the shield for him was down recently or had been brought down months ago. He was too ashamed to ask.

The air shifted as he neared the cottage, she knew he was here, probably had done since he landed. It was possible she knew the second he left Velaris. As he neared it, he could see the door was slightly ajar. Nesta may not be greeting him with open arms but in her way, this was gesture enough.

Much had changed inside.

The piles of books that threatened to crush a fae under their groaning weight had been cleared away and stacked onto bookshelves. The knives that casually adorned the butchers block had been tidied away out of sight.

The fire crackled and spat behind an iron gate and a pile a green wool lay strewn onto the sofa, two knitting needles embedded into the skein. Part of the wool had already transformed into a bootie for a foot and the shape of a leg was forming.

Cassian wandered over, picking it up between his fingers and marvelled at how soft it was against the calluses of his fingertips and how small it sat in the palm of his hand. I’ll protect you, he thought, me and your mama and there’s no one more formidable.

Maybe his thoughts were a beacon for all to hear but there was a clunk of a door latch and Nesta once more emerged from the room that was now the nursery.

If Cassian thought the cottage was much changed, it was nothing in comparison to his mate before him. Nesta’s hair seemed longer but that could have been because it was loose down her back and not braided into its usual coronet.

Her hair tumbling in waves also made her face appear softer and rounder or at least that’s what Cassian thought until he realised that Nesta’s face was softer and rounder. Her sharp cheekbones may have been less pronounced but her skin glowed as though a flame was lit within her.

The greatest change was, of course, her stomach.

Even if Cassian had wanted to continue avoiding the evidence of his impending fatherhood he wouldn’t have held much of a chance. Nesta’s stomach protruded from her slight frame and straining against the fabric, the impression of her belly button pressed against the material. Cassian found himself fascinated at how glorious it looked.

Something else was edging its way in now, pushing down the shame and fear. The primal, ferocious part of him that existed was screaming to snatch Nesta away and carry her somewhere even more secluded then where she currently was.

He was still staring at her belly, still holding the woollen sock when Nesta’s hand came to rest on her stomach followed by a not so subtle cough.

Desperately shoving the nerves down, he looked back at her face. The softening of her face and glow of her skin hadn’t dampened the sharpness residing within. Her eyes were tired but not sad, a resolve existing in them that whatever happened with Cassian, whether he was there or not, she would be.

Cassian opened and closed his mouth like a fish gulping in the air unable to find the words that would ever convey how sorry he was.

Nesta just fixed him with a stare before she spoke. “I was going to make some stew. Are you staying for dinner?”

He stammered out a confirmation and watched as Nesta’s eyes flitted down to where he still clutched onto the sock before she turned away.

Though the cottage was small and the physical distance between them minimal, Cassian felt the gulf.

Sorry, he wanted to say. Please forgive me, was the other. If she wanted nothing to do with him or if she wanted him to have nothing to do with their child it was within her right even if both those decisions would smash what was left of his heart.

Nesta began chopping vegetables in silence and Cassian finally put down the sock and the satchel and turned towards the nursery.

From the corner of his eye he saw Nesta pause as he approached its door.

“May I?” he asked and she nodded without looking, continuing with her task.

The room had been filled with more items than when he’d last seen it. The lace curtains still adorned the window but now fae lights twinkled around the pane and Cassian could see snowflakes as they danced and twisted in the air.

The rooms dusty, unlived smell had completely disappeared to be perfumed with both with Nesta’s scent and that of a bouquet of flowers sat on a table and enchanted to permanently bloom.

Cassian recognised it from Elain’s kitchen, the very ones she was arranging when he visited. He thought of the peach petals of the flower she gave him and how vibrant and alive it looked next to his leathers.

The bookcase was now filled with books, all bound in cream, yellow and green and clearly recognisable as children’s stories from the Night or Day Court. There were a few that Cassian didn’t recognise but he knew enough to understand they were from the Mortal Lands.

The ones that had a shelf of their own; bashed and burnt edged, tarnished and worn with dark brown leather trims were unmistakably Illyrian.

Even though she couldn’t be sure that Cassian would be there, even though he couldn’t have been sure he would, Nesta still found a way to secure items from half their child’s heritage.

The rocking chair was now prepped with a cushion and the crib, still the most prominent feature in the room waited patiently for its impending occupant. A mobile of stars and winged creatures hung down above the centre and swayed when Cassian trailed his fingers over it.

He’d missed so much already; he’d almost missed so much more. The fear was there but next to it, deep in his belly, now lived something else. Excitement had started to take shape.

When he returned to the kitchen he strode to where Nesta stood as she buttered bread and pretended to ignore him.

“Nesta,” he murmured and she paused. Her face had affected an air of disinterest but her hand trembled as she held the knife and he remembered months ago when her clenched fists did the same.

How had he been so stupid? In his previous terror he mistook those signs for rage and yes, she had been angry, but there was the undercurrent of something else. She’d been terrified too, still was, and he’d let his own fear confirm hers.

“Nesta,” he said again and turned her so that she faced him, their bodies so close that her full belly brushed against his. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead choosing to focus on a point on his chest.

But she wasn’t pulling away.

“I’ve been such a fool,” he said and reached forward to cup her face in his hands. Nesta closed her eyes and a solitary tear slid down her cheek. “Such a fool,” he repeated as he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb, caressing it against her cheek.

Nesta let out a shaky sigh and nodded and that seemed to break her, a sob wrenching its way free from her mouth.

He pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms and revelled in her presence, her scent, her everything. Another sob came from her mouth, pressed against his chest and he heard her muffled voice, “Stupid hormones.”

***

They sat side by side on the couch in front of the fire. Their bowls lay empty on the floor and Cassian’s bare foot rested against Nesta’s as she tucked herself next to his body. He played with a strand of her hair, twisting it in his fingers and watched as her eyes grew heavy until they closed, her hands resting on her belly.

The only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire and although he didn’t want to interrupt their fragile peace, he knew he needed to.

“Nesta,” he began and felt her tense by his side. “I need to-”

“It’s fine,” she said sharply, cutting him off. Although she had let him back into her home there was still ice left to thaw. He could leave it, accept the battle was done but he knew the hurt he’d caused would fester. Someday, maybe not soon, but someday, the wound that Nesta hastily patched up would only re-open.

As Cassian was the cause of that wound he needed to ensure he healed it.

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know my father. I imagined to myself that he was an exalted Illyrian warrior, maybe even Illyrian royalty, and it was war or some other disaster which tore him away from the female he loved. I convinced myself he’d died, either fighting or fighting to get back to her.”

Nesta remained silent but Cassian continued.

“I also managed to convince myself that he would have thought my mother’s pregnancy the best thing that had ever happened to him, that he was overjoyed with his peasant female and the son she would give him. I always hoped, if he had died, his dying thoughts were of us.”

Cassian stared into the flames behind the grate.

“They were the wishes of a child. My father either didn’t know she was pregnant with his bastard or didn’t care. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was one of the best warriors we’ve ever had, he fucked a launderess in a camp and that’s where it ended.” Saying the words out loud caused a different kind of ache in his heart but to move forwards, he had to close the past.

“If he knew she was pregnant,” he continued, “then it didn’t matter - he left us. I told myself I would never do that and yet, that’s exactly what I did.”

Nesta let out a shaky sigh. Cassian continued to let the strand of hair twirl between his fingers, the firelight shading it a brilliant copper.

“I don’t know how to be a father,” he admitted. “I was scared – am still scared – that I’m going to ruin both your lives. I shouldn’t have run. I still don’t know how to be a father but I’m not going to run again.” Cassian placed a kiss on the top of Nesta’s head. “I will always be sorry.”

Nesta let out another sigh and turned in his arms to face him. “Cassian,” she began and glanced away to take a breath before facing him again.

“You’re not the only one who’s scared. My parents were present but they were never really there. You know about my father and my mother – she loved my father deeply but she resented having children. I’m scared that I’m like her and the way I was with Feyre...” she trailed off and Cassian saw her throat bob as she swallowed.

“You were a different person then. You and Feyre have made amends.”

Nesta shook her head. “When she sent me to the camps, I hated her. Hated her. Back then I would have done anything to tear her life apart.” She looked at him, reaching forward to clasp his hands in hers.

“That feeling’s gone, I’m just so tired now. Except...” Nesta took another breath. “It was something you said, about needing to speak with Rhys. I was terrified that Rhys and Mor would take my baby away. I was scared you and Feyre would let them.” She looked away again, her eyes someplace other than the room. “I knew what I would have done to you all if you tried.” A smile briefly touched her face.

Decades had passed since Cassian watched her hack at the neck of Hybern until the gristle and bone finally snapped. She’d held the severed head in her hands, her face splattered with blood and a smile, wide and ghastly, stretched across her face. It was the shadow of that smile that appeared now.

Cassian thought back to the recent conversations with Mor and Rhys, how Rhys was willing to use his authority as High Lord to bend Nesta to his will.

Even though Cassian had once wanted her in Velaris, had tried to convince her it was the right place, had considered that her and the baby should be made to live there, he would never have allowed it.

Nesta never would have allowed it.

He looked down at his hands, currently clutched in Nesta’s. His own blood had run down his knuckles and into the ground. He had wrapped those hands around the throats of traitors, had used those hands to wield blades, slicing them into the guts and hearts of enemies. His first kill was a throat split so wide he’d almost severed a head himself. He pictured the faces of his friends, the fae he had called family. If any one of them had tried to take Nesta’s baby away from her, Cassian wouldn’t have just let the rampage happen, he would have joined in.

“You’re not your mother,” he told her, flipping their hands so hers were now clutched in his. His calloused thumbs caressed her soft skin. “I’m not my father. This baby is ours, no one else’s.”

“I know,” she looked at him with fierce eyes, “I would take down anyone who would try and take it away from me. Even you.”

“I would never do that,” he said, “I promise.” He kissed the top of her head again and she let out another sigh, this one so soft it was barely audible. Cassian took a moment to breath in her scent before shifting to the satchel he brought with him, his stomach twisting.

Nesta slid away, so that she faced him, eager to see what he was doing.

The leather was old and worn but it was sturdy, protecting its plethora of contents over numerous centuries and now protected the precious gift Cassian had brought back with him from Velaris. The parcel he pulled out was misshapen and wrapped in plain linens tied with brown string but he hoped the contents would be significantly more impressive. He cleared his throat and held it to Nesta. “It’s for you,” he said. “Well actually the baby.”

Nesta took the parcel from him and unwrapped it with careful hands, a gasp escaping her. Cassian knew that Nesta was intrinsically aware of what this was, of what this meant to him.

Even after all this time the blanket was soft. The edges may have been a little frayed but nothing that was detrimental, it was still a good blanket. The colour was a light dove grey and, embroidered in a dark thread, were the symbols for growth, strength and health.

“It’s an Illyrian baby blanket,” Nesta breathed.

Cassian nodded, his eyes not leaving her face. “Yes, mine.”

It was the only item his mother left with him at the training camp. She’d given the instruction to hide it and hide it well as the others would assume it as a sign of weakness. Cassian did exactly as he was told, burying it beneath a tree and only digging it up when the training camp moved to new ground.

For him it wasn’t a sign of vulnerability, it was a vestige, the last sacred remnant that someone had loved him. Now it was to be gifted onwards, now he had someone extra to love.

Nesta’s smiles were delicate things that could be snared by a passing doubt or remembered fear and which left her face almost as soon as they appeared. This smile, this wonderous smile now present, would be etched into Cassian’s memory forever.

“I don’t want the baby growing up without experiencing some of Velaris,” he said, “and I want it to see the Steppes but it’s going to be spending a lot of cold winters here. Even early spring has a bite so I decided it needed something warm.”

Nesta bundled the blanket up and touched the fabric to her face, rubbing it against her skin as if to test the softness.

“I want the baby to live where you’ll be most happy,” Cassian continued. “I would like to live where you’ll be most happy. Perhaps I could, in time?”

Nesta shot him a sly look. “Perhaps,” she said, “in time.” Cassian watched as she buried her nose in the blanket, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. “It smells of the sky somehow,” she said, “and the woods. It smells like you. Thank you.”

Nesta put the blanket down and leaned forward, kissing Cassian gently. His heartbeat raced in his chest like it always did when their lips touched.

She reached forward and took his hand placing his palm over the girth of her belly, resting hers on top. When she pressed in slightly there was a movement in response, a shifting of life that had been disturbed and so it kicked out in protest.

Cassian gasped. “That’s....”

“A foot,” Nesta continued, “she’s a kicker.”

Cassian grinned as he felt the kick again imagining small toes pressing against the inside of Nesta’s belly. “Wait,” he said as Nesta’s comment dawned on him, “she?”

“Yes, we’re having a girl.”

There was nothing he could say to that. A new fear now existed, to be a father of a daughter, to have two strong willed females in his life who would present him with new challenges that he couldn’t begin to fathom. The fear was part of the process, he knew this now, it would make him work harder.

Cassian would let fear sharpen him, make him stronger.

“We’re doing this,” he said, “we’re doing this together.”

Nesta smiled again, her fingers clasping round his.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “together.”

#nessian #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #i wrote something #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessianfic #nessian fic #nesta x cassian

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utterlyhopeful-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Nightmare

Request from Anon: I’ve been suffering really bad dreams and nightmares that are leaving me shaken the next day and all. And basically, I would really like and appreciate Ezekiel comfort post these dreams. He doesn’t know what the dreams are, so possibly he feels angry and sad on behalf of the s/o when she reveals the truth. The dream topic is quite triggering (bluntly, it’s sexual assault).

If I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or you’d like to be tagged; please let me know!

MASTERLIST

Translations:

Eres mia y yo soy tuya -- You are mine & I am yours.

Siempre.Yo también mi amor. Yo también. -- Always, me too my love. Me too.

Ezekiel Reyes (Ez) x Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: TRIGGERING TOPIC, extensive mention of sexual assault, language, angst, mention of self-hatred. PLEASE don’t read any further if this is upsetting in any manner or form to you!!

******************************************************

---FLASHBACK---

It was always the same nightmare, the same abandoned alleyway, and the exact same strange man following her for the last ten minutes. She’d just left Lettie’s surprise birthday. Nothing could’ve wiped the smile off her face that day, unbeknownst to Y/N. Her heart accelerated uncertain of what to do next as her feet sprinted a second faster. Her skin tinged with heat; her eyes dilated in trepidation. She remembered that disturbing night like the back of her hand, never forgetting a spare detail. Nausea trounced through Y/N as she turned the next street corner.

Her vision soon blurred into shapeless blobs the nearer Y/N traveled home but the pitter patter of blatant footsteps haunted her. It was the world’s fucked adaptation of Groundhog’s Day dooming Y/N to repeat her horrid deliriums. Of course, details change a time or two but never enough to ease her panicked heart. Her own screams troubled her subconscious.

With her body aching for rest and her mind preoccupied elsewhere, Y/N begged for one peaceful night of sleep. But when her eyelids shut, another tale came to life lurking beneath the shadows. She never knew his name; the asshole who so vehemently manhandled her in a very public and humiliating tactic.

Her purple nails slashed ferociously at his skin imprinting shallow cuts against his shaggy suntanned skin. His grotesquely bulky hand gripped her neck temporarily blocking her airways, lifting Y/N momentary levitating. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Nooo. Rapid sobs clawed at her throat in a forceful manner. She gawked in horror as he devoured her every inch by creepy inch.

A predator claiming his kill. She’d loathed the sickening grin playing on his edge of his lips until he smashed the back of her head against the red-bricked wall. An unwillingly imprint stamped in her disturbing memory.

This time her vision embarked into dusky darkness similar to that of a curtain collapsing. Black spots prickled her advantageous points of her sight. Goosebumps trickled down her arms in response to the howling wind hitching her dress dangerously high. His callused fingers rubbed harshly stroking the outside of her lace underwear. Once the shock deteriorated, Y/N glowered blankly at the devilish black irises. A burst of energy tingled the tip of her fingers migrating within her muscles and bones protesting a final shout of defiance. Her ears resonated tortuously, her voice reverberated from her windpipe, and her knee left the ground in haste connecting perfectly with his groin.

“Ooof, you fuck---ing bitch.” The man coughed violently falling to the paved cement.

She planted her hands trivially atop his chest pushing with every ounce of strength thrusting him away from her.

Y/N gritted in pure fury. “Fucking asshole!”

Without a second glance Y/N ran, she sprinted until approaching Lindo’s ice cream parlor two three away. She’d never been so thankful for high school cross country in her entire life. Replaying her phone call to Ez overwhelmed her countless times a day, listening to the spooked man on the other end. The only man she’d grown to trust since the incident. It was also a call Ez couldn’t erase from his head listening to the dead tone. Never in a million years did Ez conjure hearing her disconnected tone. He found her easily enough sitting on the plastic chair near the window.

Her back hunched sitting far from human contact. Still, the moonlight reflected off her in the most radiant of ways. Effortlessly magnificent. The bell hummed as the door closed behind Ez. Y/N didn’t look up until two brown boots met her penetrating stare. The rest was history. Ezekiel was more committed and in love with her than ever. He placed a kiss on her forehead resting his chin on her head. There was no hiding the flinching shudder that overtook her before Y/N leaned into his touch.; calming and familiar. He brought her into his tattooed arms, his comforting fingers ran along her spine. He’d never hated silence so much than in that very moment.

---PRESENT---

Ez awoke from his slumber when Y/N started to mumble incoherently, her body whipped back and forth riddled with unreleased anxiety. Perspiration glistened along her exposed skin falling into droplets on their indigo/cobalt sheets. Her eyeballs bounced around her shut lids further worrying Ez. His left hand gently shook her arm hoping to stir, to throw him a damn sign, anything to know she was okay. Her nightmares were becoming a nightly occurrence. Just like lightening, Y/N bolted up chest heaving for fresh air. Her eyes scanned their room grasping she was home, with Ez. She whimpered burying her face into his neck. Wet streaks shot down his neck as tears specked her cheeks.

“Baby, Y/N; can you hear me?”

Y/N continued to glare straight refusing to glance at the angel by her side. Her room shifted into familiarity exhaling boisterously. Blood pressure returned to normal levels allowing her a moment of vital clarity.

A meek ‘Yes’ stumbled from her quiet lips.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? What’s eating at you baby girl?”

To this day, Y/N never mentioned what happened that night, the assault. Whether it was shame or humility, Y/N was still working through the motions. Past experiences taught her to maintain an open heart to healing but the impenetrable wall inside stopped her. obviously so, he knew something was up when he picked her up, but he never asked any questions. Shortly after they became lovers, their friendship strengthened far greater than either prepared for.

Soon, they became inseparable entangled in each other’s lives, and they were simply happy. Y/N was a hard book to crack, keeping her emotions in check, embracing rational thinking for any and all decisions. She was the only other woman to beat his GPA, challenge his testimonies, and explode into contagious laughter at the drop of a hat. Falling in love with Y/N was the easiest decision Ez made in the last ten years.

“I’m here. I’m here” chanted repeatedly, a whisper in the calm of night.

“Almost a year and a half ago…. I—” Y/N shuttered as her courage began to waver.

Ez cupped her face bringing them to eye level. His amber orbs calmed her, oozing protection and unconditional love.

“Go on…or well, don’t? The choice is completely yours.” Internally, his blood boiled with concern. Y/N was the bravest girl he’d ever encountered, it wasn’t like her to stay hush hush. Ezekiel swore he’d kill whoever scared the living shit out of her, to the bastard who rattled her bones. And, he definitely wasn’t a man to fall back on his promises.

Y/N’s rolled her eyes at his cuteness, Ez was the ying to her to yang. She’d never trusted someone the way she treated Ezekiel.

“I was aa-a-attacked. After Lettie’s 18th bday.”

Ez ripped the sheet from his body standing up, quickly pacing. How the fuck did he let this happen? Why hadn’t she opened up to him earlier? Question after question poked at his fragile ego breaking him all the while enraging him. Y/N scooted to his side engulfing into his fading heat. She remained quiet sulking in the suffocating silence of the room. Ezekiel stayed speechless.

“Don’t blame yourself, E.” Y/N quipped. “I know that look Ezekiel Reyes…” a hint of a smirk came out of the darkness.

“Blame myself? Of course, I do! I’m fucking furious!” His voice broke into heart shredding quakes; “I wasn’t there to protect you. The one thing I promised to fucking do. I’m so sorry, so sorry querida.”

“He didn’t—he almost raped me but didn’t. I kicked him in the balls and he dropped. If it hadn’t been for those few additional seconds, I’d be a goner. And that’s terrifying.”

Ez sat on the mattress, his knees brushing hers, his hand guided to the outskirts of her thigh squeezing lightly.

“If anything were to happen to you…I—I refuse to think about a life that doesn’t involve you. That fucking prick had the audacity to disrespect the Mayans unknowing of his repercussions. Did you recognize him? Any distinguishing features?”

“Not really… Caucasian with hideous gelled tips? Breath reeked of barbecue and he smelt of pleather and whiskey. Hideous snake tattoo draped on his forearm. He followed me from the restaurant. He was watching, waiting to get me alone. I’m just ...dealing with it. Finally getting around to the processing bit and it’s scary. This shit’s complicated and I didn’t want you think I was this weakling. So, I buried it so deep within me that it’s beginning to eat away at me edging closer to the surface.”

Ez leaned in finding her lips with ease kissing her with fervor. They stayed like that a few kisses longer before faintly parting. The space between them was minimal but enough to be grateful for.

“You are the opposite of weak. In fact, you’re the most determined and brilliant person I’ve ever laid eyes on. There is only one Y/N for me and I will stand diligently alongside her for as long as she’ll have me.”

“I love you, Reyes. Eres mia y yo soy tuya. Siempre.”

“Yo también mi amor. Yo también”

Ez and Y/N understood the difficult road ahead of them, Y/N’s agonizing memories, but he was proud of her. Proud of the woman who took a stand and fought like hell, choosing to share the comfortable pieces of her past life.

Her tone excluded downhearted sadness; “I’m sorry for coming in and fucking up your life.”

“Stop that. Stop right there. Goodness can be found sometimes in the middle of hell.”

Discreet snores told Ez she’d long fallen asleep. He laid them down holding her determinedly. Y/N cuddled into his warmth nuzzling his shoulder sheepishly sighing. His mahogany eyes grew heavy joining Y/N in a serene slumber. The crickets chirped at the summer’s heat worshiping the moon. The fire blazing in her dark and injured heart seemingly glowed around them like a moth a flame. To be alive at all is to have scars. But to love openly regardless of said scars; now that, that was life’s truest miracle.

~~~~~~~~

Tags: @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @imagineredwood @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @breanime @whyisgmora @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife @gemini0410 @ly-canthrope

#mayans mc #mayans #my writing #ez x reader #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel x reader #ezekiel reyes x reader #fx #mayans imagine #mayans drabble #request #anon #mayans x reader #mayans mc x reader #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes

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shnuggletea · 4 years ago

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Chapter Two is LIVE!

After high demand, chapter two is up! Depending on you guys, I might post another chapter today. If this post gets a lot of love then I will. The free version is up on Patreon and AO3! To those of you who started reading and saw Kikyo and bounced just remember, I write InuKag.

Angsty start with some fluff as we go, this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I like it so.... I was in a weird place when I wrote this one guys. Anyway, make sure to check out the great artwork I commissioned for it from @eringobroke!

Artwork: Hunting a Dryad

Patreon

AO3

Or keep reading

Tags!

@underwater0phelia @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @nartista @nopenname22 @echobows @superpixie42 @smmahamazing @redflamesofpassion @jme-chan @cstorm86 @cicleydark-light @ruddcatha @lavaffair @kirrtash @sistasecbhere @obsessandfangirl @britonell @lordofthechips @mcornilliac @faolenwolf @keichanz @phoenix-before-the-flame @artisticloveexpressitsall @lamuertadehambre @noyourenotreal @mitty-san @thenoammonster @little-deeluna @royaltrashpanda @sailorbabydoll92 @storyweaver2017 @malditamigs @adorabubblesblog @petri808 @anniehcresta @fan-dumpp @itzatakahashi @utakuprincess @theschultinator @all-too-ale @little-inukag-obsessed @theseagullqueen @queenofthesquirps @jolinaaa00 @knowall7k @neutronstarchild @fawn-eyed-girl @eringobroke @sapphirestarxx @clearwillow @dangerouspompadour @misspepperpottss @master-ray5 @sailorsilverladybug @astraearose93 @egosolivagant @fandompromptsandfun @fandomartlover @holi-holy @kagometaishostory

Chapter Two

I was sore, in many ways, all over my body. It had been a long, long time since my body had been used in such a way. And I had slept where he left me, cold and naked (my clothes in shreds under me) on my hardwood floor. The only clothing on me was my boots still and I slowly kicked them off, pain radiating through me from each movement.

Getting to my feet was even more painful, my muscles angry from all the abuse. It didn’t cover the knowing in my body: Inuyasha was still near. How near I couldn’t tell; the bond didn’t work like that. I could never tell how near or far he was only that he could feel me too. And it wasn’t endless, if far enough then we couldn’t feel one another at all. It was how I was able to hide from him for so long.

Once at a distance, I kept moving and never felt so much as a tingle from my Mate. After a decade of running, I came to the realization that he wasn’t even looking for me. It hurt, but I knew it was for the best. So then I only moved to hide from the world, staying in one place a few years before my unaging body gave me away. I kept the same fake name everywhere I went. No one could know my name and Kikyo…

I didn’t have a choice and Inuyasha would never understand. So there was no point.

I winced as I picked up the shreds that were once my clothes, tossing them in the trash. Then I checked on my sapling, now a small tree. It’s life began with mine and it is still only a small tree. It was a representation of my life as I was intertwined with it and I still had a long life ahead of me.

Still safe and happy; I left my tree and headed for the shower. My tree was watered and happy so now it was time to do the same for myself. I hoped the hot stream from my shower would work out the stiff, soreness from my body. Standing in the spray, I couldn’t help but marvel at the changes of this world. No matter how long I lived in it (in the world of the humans) I would never get over the advancements made. Especially, given what I once had to do to get clean.

My tired mind wandered to those times, leaning heavily against the stall of my shower and drifting.

The air was hot and I felt sweat drip down my fur. It had been days since I had bathed and that was in large part due to the season. It was warm and many men were out, hunting.

But I had put it off long enough, sprinting to the river that parted the woods. I quickly shifted and ran to my hiding spot. It housed clothes and my bow and quiver. The only reason I turned human for my baths were for protection. As a doe, a hunter would not hesitate to kill me but as a human female, they would claim my flesh in another manner.

However, as a human I could draw my bow so I brought it with me into the waters. Chill swept up my spine as soon as my toes touched, forcing my feet and body to continue. My skin was sticky with sweat and dirt, this bath was well overdue.

Dunking myself the rest of the way, I adjusted to the water and floated happily on its surface. But my heart fluttered, feeling odd in my chest. Then my skin burned and not from the icy water on it.

On my feet, I searched the shore for a source. Was someone vexing me? Placing a curse on my skin? Gypsies were known to travel through here and they liked to claim talismans like Nymphs. Or was it a demon? Looking for a meal like my soul? I searched frantically but saw nothing. Then the thick brush behind me shifted and I spun. Bow at the ready, nothing more happened.

“Come out now and I will spare you.”

The brush shook and shifted again and slowly, clawed hands appeared. Followed by downy white ears and silvery strands. When gold found my eyes, my breath caught in my lungs.

He just stared at me, eyes on me and not the rest of my naked body. His hands fell down and I realized I had lowered my bow. It was a demon, of that much I was sure, but I felt no fear even as he took a brave step closer to me.

But then he froze, looking beyond me and stepping back. I turned, following his gaze but saw nothing. When I turned back to him, he was gone. My heart tripped painfully in my chest for some reason, as if missing the strange man after the few heartbeats spent in one another’s gaze.

Once on the shore, movement caught my attention again. I only had my dress over my skin to hide but quickly pulled my bow at the ready again. Black hair peeked out of the thick and tall bamboo, her hands up by her face.

“I mean you no harm, Sister.”

A puff of air left me as my fear did. “Kikyo… what are you doing here?”

She frowned but it was not in earnest. “I came to see you, my dear Sister.”

“Do not take me for a fool, you would do anything to escape your duties.”

“This is true.”

There was sadness in her tone and I feared I had pushed too far. “Forgive me. I am happy to see you as always.”

“And I you.” Kikyo’s eyes left mine, searching behind us. “We are not alone it seems.”

I spun, looking for whatever it was she saw. As a Lampad, Kikyo’s senses were stronger than mine, used to moving around in the dark of the underworld. Which was why she took my bow from me and took aim.

“It is probably a harmless creature…”

Kikyo was not listening, releasing the arrow. A creature whined, getting hit and it made me cringe. Un-phased, Kikyo handed me back my weapon. “It was a demon. And now it’s not a problem.”

My mind went to the man, the beautiful demon that had found me in the river. My heart began to race in fear again, knowing Kikyo was an excellent shot and that she had hit something.

Her gray eyes filled my watering vision. “A demon would only want to claim you. Just as any creature; mortal, Nymph, demon, or god will. You don’t want to leave me all alone, do you Sister?”

A smile twitched on my lips and I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “Of course not.”

“Good. Because I will not give you up to anyone. Ever.”

My muscles were happier, turning off the shower with pruney fingers. My breath caught when I pulled back the curtain; Inuyasha waiting for me on the other side of it. He took in my wet body with hungry eyes, grabbing me and pulling me harshly from the shower stall.

Using me like a toy, he pushed me against the wall this time. I was in shock when he stopped. He didn’t continue to finish me off. Instead, he left me panting and in pain; the loss of him already settling into my bones.

“See you later, Mate.”

The way he said Mate no longer held the same affection it used to. This was my punishment. It was what I deserved for leaving my destined one without a word. And even though it was justified, even though I had no choice, it didn’t matter to Inuyasha or to the fates that put us together.

I had no one to blame but myself as I turned my shower back on, crouched down, and worked on my own relief; sobbing from my wasted love as I did.

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fandom #inukag #greek and roman mythology #angsty #fluffy #eventual fluff #happy ending #shaken #not stirred #with a twist #hunting a dryad

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godess-ofthe-underworld · 4 years ago

Text

Love Finds A Way

(sequel to “See You Again” ( A Harry Hook x reader story)

Part 7

Back at the hideout the five where trying to come up with other options to not give Uma the wand but we're falling short.

“ There is no way we're giving Uma the wand.” Evie said, pacing. “ We can't just let her destroy Auradon.”

“Uma doesn't get the wand, Ben and Ruby are toast, guys.” Carlos stated defeatedly.

“ So we're going to give Uma, of all people, the wand?” Evie fired back.

“ Wait, you guys! Your 3D printer!” Hadley spoke through the argument.

The other three looked at her.

“A phoney wand” Carlos realized what she was insinuating.

“Yeah but the second Uma tests it, she'll know it's fake.” Evie retorted.

“Okay, so then we get Ben and Ruby out really fast. We need some kind of diversion” Mal spoke from behind Hadley.

The rest thought for a moment, when Jay spoke up.

“Smoke bombs.”

“ That's perfect! I can get the chemicals I need from lady Tremains place.” Evie said as she walked over to Mal and Hadley.

“ Oh and sick hair by the way. Evil stepmom really stepped up her game.” Evie said running her fingers through the ends of Mal's newly dyed purple hair.

“ Ok you wanna know something, Dizzy did this!”

“Little Dizzy? No way!” Hadley gasped.

Jay cleared his throat as the girls kept rambling about Mal's hair.

“Hello?!”

Jay shot the girls a look when they turned to him

“Right. Jay, Carlos, meet us at Pirates Bay no later than 12 o'clock. And you guys, losing, not an option.” The others nodded.

“Cause we're rotten…”

“To the core”

The five split up outside the hideout.

Hadley, Evie and Mal walked their way through the winding streets and dark alleys to “Curl Up and Dye” owned by none other than Lady Tremaine.

Hadley and Evie pushed through the tall plastic curtain that lead on to the floor of the salon. Multiple colors of paint splatters cover the walls and broken mirrors sat in front of styling chairs. A white claw foot bath tub sat in the very back corner, full of hair potions and colors, bubbling away.

At the desk at the very back of the salon, with her back turned to them sat little Dizzy, daughter of Drizzella. Dizzy is young, about 11 or 12, she wore a black paint splattered dress and a blue paint splattered apron. Her hair was perched in two messy buns on top of her head and her purple cats-eye glasses sat far down on the end of her nose from having been hunched of the desk. The desk was cluttered with gold and silver jewelry, gems of all shapes mostly Ruby and sapphires, some skulls and tiaras litterd around as well. Dizzy always made the jewelry that Hadley and Evie wore.

Hadley and Evie looked at each other and smiled, to them Dizzy was like a little sister, there where many times they hung out with dizzy creating new dresses and playing around with hairstyles.

They snuck over, careful not to make any noise and crouched down next to the desk. It took Dizzy a moment to realize that there was someone next to her.

“Evie? Hadley?” Dizzy jumped from the chair and grabbed the two in a waist high tight hug. The two older girls embraced her tighter.

“You guys came back! Is it all just like we imagined? Do they really have closets you can walk into? Have you been to a real swimming pool? What does ice cream taste like?” Dizzy spit out question after question and evening and Hadley laughed.

“It's cold and sweet. And if you eat it too fast you get a headache.” Evie tapped her nose.

“Really?”

“Yeah”

“I saved your sketchbook for you!” Dizzy ran off to another part of the salon.

“You did?”Hadley beamed.

Dizzy came back a few seconds later carrying a large blue book.

She set the book down and Evie sat at the desk with dizzy and Hadley looking over her shoulder. Evie opened up the first page and marveled at the sketch of a dress.

Hadley gasped “We made that dress out of safety pins and an old curtain”

“It reminds me of the dress you made for Mal when she met Jasmine.”

“I spilled curry all over that” Mal inquired.

“You did” Hadley laughed.

A look of realization crossed over Evie's face.

“You're totally right Dizzy. This was…. This was totally the inspiration for that.”

“I knew it! You can take the girl out of the isle but you can't take the isle out of the girl”

Hadley and Evie looked a Dizzy sadley. They both knew how bad Dizzy wanted to go to Auradon.

Changing the subject and adding more light to the room, Hadley picked up a small blue skull shaped sapphire and a silver arm band and held them together.

”is this too much or is this fabulous?”

“Hand me the glue gun!” Dizzy held her hand out and Evie placed it in her hand.

She excitedly glued the two pieces together.

Mal then cleared her throat gaining their attention.

“Smoke bombs?”

“Right.” Hadley looked over at Dizzy, “is it alright?”

Dizzy beamed at her.

“Sure take what you need!”

“Dizzy you are the best!” Evie gave her a side hug and the three got to work creating the smoke bombs.

After two hours and five smoke bombs later, Hadley, Evie and Mal were ready to leave. They carefully placed them in Mal and Evie's bags.

Evie turned around,as Mal placed the last smoke bombs in the bags, holding a gold circular band encrusted with Ruby hearts over her head.

“H, how amazing would this look with my shredded tee and my heart purse?”

“Very amazing!”

“Take it! Take a bunch!” Dizzy exclaimed from across the salon.

Dizzy scooped up a bunch of the jewelry from the desk skipping over to the three girls.

Hadley quickly grabbed Evie's bag and opened it up for Dizzy.

“Oh Dizzy!” Evie squealed.

“It would make me so happy to know that you were wearing something of mine in Auradon. It's almost like me being there myself.” Dizzy smiled.

Evie and Hadley both exchanged looks and pulled Dizzy into a hug.

“We really wish we could take you with us.” Evie said.

“At least two of us had our dreams come true, right?” Dizzy said as they pulled away.

The two girls looked down.

“E,H we gotta go.” Mal quipped from the back.

The two nodded and followed Mal to the front of the shop where Evie and Hadley turned to look back at Dizzy who had sat back down at the desk looking through the sketchbook.

“She's gonna be okay” Mal said.

Hadley sighed.

“Yeah. But she could be so much more.” Evie whispered.

Hadley gave a tight lipped smile.

“Let's go.”

The three walked out the salon and back into the cold Alleyways. The walk back to the hideout was filled with the three girls linking arms and laughing at ridiculous stories from Auradon gossip.

“I'm serious! Ruby told me She turned her mother into a bear. All because she didn't want to get married.” Hadley laughed.

“yeah okay H” Mal remarked

“It's true!”

Mal held her hands up in defense.

Evie had a small smile on her face but it looked more like a grimace.

“Evie, you okay?”

Mal took this as her que to leave, heading up the stairs and into the hideout.

"E.. you can tell me" Hadley took both of Evie's hands.

Evie let out a drawn out breath.

“You and Ruby are getting pretty close hu?"

"I mean yeah, she's a good friend"

"Good enough to ditch me for her?" Evie questioned looking up the alley.

"what are you talking about?" concern flashed through Hadley's features.

"You know what I mean, your always running off with her anymore, ditching me in your path.." Evie removed her hands from Hadley's.

"Evie… I am so sorry.. honestly.. I didn't know I was doing that." Hadley pleaded.

" I feel like I'm losing my best friend" Evie hung her head.

"Evie, you're not my best friend…" Hadley stated stated shaking her head.

Evie's face fell.

Hadley took her hands again.

"You're not my best friend…you are so much more than that..you're my sister…"

Evie grinned wildly and pulled Hadley into a tight hug.

"Im sorry I've been ditching you. I promise when we get back, we'll spend time together.. just you and me." Hadley smiled as she pulled back.

"I'd like that" Evie smiled.

(Hadley)

Yo, my best friend, best friend til the very end

Cause best friends, best friends don't have to pretend

You need a hand, and I'm right there right beside you

You in the dark, I'll be the bright light to guide you

'member the times, times, times sneaking out the house

All of the times, times, times that you had the doubts

And don't forget all the trouble we got into

We got something you can't undo, do

Laughing so damn hard

Crashed your dad's new car

All the scars we share

I promise, I swear

(Hadley and Evie)

Wherever you go, just always remember

That you got a home for now and forever

And if you get low, just call me whenever

This is my oath to you

Wherever you go, just always remember

You're never alone, we're birds of a feather

And we'll never change, no matter the weather

This is my oath to you

(Evie)

I know I drive you crazy, mm, sometimes

I know I call you lazy, and that's most times

But you complete me, and that's no lie

You are my tuxedo, and I'm your bow tie

We in the car, sing, sing, singing our song

Rocking the building, tear it down, like we king kong

And in my eyes, you can't do, do no wrong

You got the best friends sing, sing along

(Hadley and Evie)

Laughing so damn hard

Crashed your dad's new car

All the scars we share

I promise, I swear

Wherever you go, just always remember

That you got a home for now and forever

And if you get low, just call me whenever

This is my oath to you

Wherever you go, just always remember

You're never alone, we're birds of a feather

And we'll never change, no matter the weather

This is my oath to you

I'll never let you go

Whoa, this is my oath to you

Just thought that you should know

Whoa, this is my oath to you

Yeah

Wherever you go, just always remember

That you got a home for now and forever

And if you get low, just call me whenever

This is my oath to you

Wherever you go, just always remember

You're never alone, we're birds of a feather

And we'll never change, no matter the weather

This is my oath to you

Oh oh

You should know, you should know, you should know, you should know

Yeah oh

Whoa, this is my oath to you

Whoa, wherever you go just always remember

You're never alone, we're birds of a feather

Whoa, this is my oath to you

The two girls held their interlocked hands up in the air at the top of the stairs.

"Come on.. i think Mal needs someone to talk to" Hadley nodded her head towards the door to the hideout.

Together they went in and talked until they dozed off.

The morning sun crept of the isle the next morning, the light breeze from the surrounding ocean giving the isle a slight chill. The docks where busy and crowded as Umas crew prepared for the trading of the wand.

Uma had stationed Harry and Gil to watch over their royal captives. Not like they could go anywhere though. Uma had ordered Ben and Ruby to be tied, separated, to each mast of the ship for the night so they couldn't try to escape.

Harry jumped down from the upper deck and stalked around the tied up King, he stopped leaning in uncomfortably close to Ben as he could. Harry lifted his hand up and scratched under Ben's chin cooing at him.

"Coochy, coochy coo." Harry chuckled wildly

Ben just looked at Harry.

"How's it feel to be King now, eh?"

Harry smirked wildly, showing off the insanity behind his eyes.

He sauntered around the mast again ready to say something else but Uma beat him to it.

"Give it a rest Harry. Give it a rest" she sat down on a crate in front of Ben.

"We don't want damaged goods"

Harry climbed up the rope ladder and was hanging on by on hand.

"You said that I could hook him" he sneered through gritted teeth.

"I said at noon" Uma reminded him not taking her eyes off Ben.

Harry jumped down and made his way up to the King, holding out his small pocket watch.

"20 more minutes now"

"That says 11:30" ben looked at Harry concerned.

"You better hope you're Girlfriend comes through" uma smirked.

"She's not my girlfriend anymore." Ben looked down at the planks in the ship.

Uma looked surprised.

"Leave us alone Harry."

Harry looked at Uma, he tuned and held the pocket watch up again.

"19 more minutes now and then you're gonna pay for takin' away me Haddie."

Harry strutted away swinging the pocket watch and whistling.

Ben looked at Uma confused.

"He means Hadley. You know, blue hair, a bit of a hot head"

”Were they.. together?”

Uma chuckled “He wishes. Nah, they were just friends, that both had major crushes on each other”

Ben tried to turn his head catching a glimpse of the red leather jacket.

“What happened?”

“You happened.” Uma deadpanned.

Ben looked back at her.

“Look, when you took Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos over there, that's as mad as I've ever been. And trust me I've been plenty mad. But when you took Hadley from Harry, I've never seen a rage like that boy threw. Hadley was the one thing keeping him sane over here on this trash heap. And when she chose to stay over there, he snapped. Lost a few crew members because of it.” Uma looked around at her crew on the docks and the ship.

“You mean he…” Ben gulped.

Uma scoffed “We ain't that bad. No, he just scared them away”

Ben sighed and looked down for a moment then at Uma

“The plan was to start with the five and bring more over from there. I guess I just got so caught up being King, I know that sounds lame.”

Uma hummed.

“ I guess that's why Hadley always mentioned Harry or you around me. To get me to realise, I am so sorry Uma. Please come with us, be part of our solution.”

“oh so now we get the invite!” Uma looked up from her nails. “I don't need your apologies, were going to get there on our own, let's see what this baby can do.” She fiddled with her mother's shell necklace.

Wooooo!!!! Part 7!! i cant believe that were already this far... if you liked this part and would like part 8 please like and comment! as always you can read the illustrated version over on my Wattpad (@phelpsphan). if you would like to be added to the tag list please message me!!!

Summary: You would think that six months in Auradon would do any villain kid good. Well, not Hadley. After the events of the Coronation, Hadley's mood took a downward spiral; and for one reason, guilt. She'd broken a promise and left her best friend on the Isle of the Lost. How will she handle seeing him again when certain circumstances bring her back to the Isle? Will she finally tell him what she really feels?

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in Descendants. Hadley and the plot between her and Harry are mine.

Tag list: @unded-bride

#harry hook imagine #harry hook x reader #harry hook #daughter of hades #Hades

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

Text

The Monster’s Lair - Thorns and Thistles

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 2 | Chapter 3 - Thorns and Thistles | Chap 4 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - injury, references of stalking, possessiveness, kidnapping

Author’s note: I just want to let you know that I won’t be posting next week since I’ll be out on a (much deserved and long overdue) holiday. It’s going to be one week of good food, sleeping in and long, long walks. UGH..I just can’t wait! In the meantime, one more chapter to keep you entertained. Take care dear readers!

Word count: 2.923

Reading music: Le Quintet à Claques - Le diable aux fesses rouges (“the devil with the red buttocks”)

(Link to my Masterlist)

Violins, hurdy gurdy’s and drums strung another delightful tune through the dancing hall, new dance partners quickly rushing to the centre to join in.

‘Sweet Belle, would you care for a dance?’ Tomlin, the baker’s boy stepped in, making Belle nervously look around herself in hope she’d find a good excuse.

‘Oh ..eh..’ Her eye fell on her father who stood but a few feet away, his head bandaged but his spirits high as he discussed some horse-related stuff with his stable boy.

‘..I am afraid not. You see, my father..’ She bit her lip as Tomlin nodded in understanding, hurrying to find himself a new dance partner.

The little interaction didn’t go unnoticed, Arthur pausing mid-story to give Belle a warning look. She quickly looked away, knowing full well what he was thinking; “Go have fun silly girl!”

But it just didn't sit right with Belle. All this. This dance. The party. The happy people. It had been just two weeks since half the town’s centre had burned down, leaving naught but ash where families used to keep their shops, lived their lives.

The mere fact that the beast had been chased off, had been deemed enough of a reason to celebrate. People had pulled out their Sunday best, their joy not lessened by the sight of those who had been harmed that night. The butcher’s wife and their children - minor burns. The clergyman - serious burns, though mostly because he had climbed back in the fire to save his fineries. And papa.

With a somber eye Belle watched her father, his face looking even older now as half of it was bandaged up. He had brushed it off as just a silly incident, but Belle couldn’t help but feel bitter. Bitter about the foolishness that blinded the people here. The beast had become another tool that the Le Comtes used to manipulate the people into dancing to their strings - literally.

The many buildings that had burned down were partially or entirely owned by them, and they would surely raise the taxes to pay for it all, even if the country-wide tax payments already swallowed most of the people their incomes. The Les Comtes held such power over the towns folk that if they said left, all would go..

‘Your dancing partner left?’ A familiar voice awoke Belle from her pensive stare, her eyes meeting those of a smirking Ismael le Comte.

‘Sir.’ Belle curtsied, then looked back at the dancing crowd, not feeling like conversing with the handsome but obnoxious man. Ismael followed her gaze and shrugged. ‘I do understand. The boy’s barely a capable dancing partner, dare I say.’

‘Oh no. No no. Tomlin’s a fine dancing partner, Sir le Comte.’ Belle corrected before quickly lowering her lashes. ‘It’s just that I wish to not leave my fa..’ She looked to her side and noted that her father and the stable boy had disappeared into the crowd, leaving her alone with Ismael.

Oh darn..

She bit her lip and looked back at an amused Ismael.

‘Now Belle.’ He stepped closer, making her step back, closer to the wall where heavy curtains hung before high windows, the fabric gathered and tied to a hook with rope and a thorny wild flower bouquet. Ismael grinned, squaring his shoulders to make himself look even more imposing and broad.

‘I dare say I could make a fine match..’

The dance in the hall ended and with an exaggerated bow he offered his hand, making sure that all were there to see.

‘..for a dance.’ He smiled near devilishly, the spark in his eyes falling in distaste with Belle.

Swallowing harshly she stumbled even further back, her hands catching herself before she bumped into a bench she had not seen, her fall broken on the snarling edges of that same thorny bouquet.

Whimpering in shock and pain, Belle flopped down to the bench, her eyes blinking away tears as she looked at her palms, red and scratched with pillowing drops of blood.

In that foolish tumble into the flower bouquet she had not noticed how Ismael had made no effort to “save her”, as he had so often promised, his head only twitching slightly, as if bewitched, before blinkingly returning to the land of the living, his mouth turning out in a dramatic little gasp.

‘Oh dear! Sweet Belle. Your hands!’ He wrapped his large hands around her shaking wrists and pulled her up without so much as a question. ‘You are bleeding!’ He exclaimed, watching with fascination as the blood started to drip down from her palms. Looking up into her eyes, his next words were resolute; ‘Come now. We must see to that at once!’

And before Belle could stammer a protest she was all but dragged out of the hall, Ismael’s hand pushing at the back of her corset, her feet hastily following his large strides.

‘Wait..where..SIR..where are you taking me?’ She whispered nervously, watching people step aside, their heads dutifully bowing at the sight of the dark haired, handsome Le Comte.

‘Don’t fret.’ He chuckled darkly, his deep brown eyes looking like pools of evil lust.

There was something about Ismael Le Comte that made Belle’s neck hair rise. No matter how kind and handsome and wonderful everyone thought him to be..there was just something..off about him. Belle couldn’t quite place her finger on it, but she wasn’t often wrong about people.

Besides. It was a bit weird that a man of his position was so committed to her well-being, right? Didn’t he have more important matters to attend to? Ladies to woo? Dances to dance? Belle looked over her shoulder, seeing some people follow her and Ismael with their gossip-glistening lips. Oh, stories were abound to be told, she knew that much.

‘I can..see to this myself. Truly. I thank you for your..OH.’ The hand that rested on her lower back eagerly pulled her closer now they were alone in a long and spacious hallway. On the walls more prickly bouquets adorned deep blue curtains that reached ceiling high, a watery moon light trickling through the clear glass panes behind them.

‘Oh Belle. Do you not see?’ Ismael purred, his mead heavy breath warming the shell of her ear. He chuckled, amused by his own thoughts, Belle swallowing harshly again as she clenched her bleeding hands before her. Oh she was making a mess of the carpet!

Ismael didn’t seem to see her discomfort.

‘In fact. Do you see all this?’ He used his free hand to point at the gardens, the meadows, the village in the far distance, little lanterns flickering behind the windows of the cots and barns, dusk falling. Slowly Belle nodded, looking back at Ismael with a sense of worry.

Why was he so..so close to her. What was it with this..beast..no not beast..he was far too handsome for that..no..a..an evil excuse for a man!

Ismael smirked and returned his attention to Belle, his arm still keeping her close to his chest. ‘You want your father to keep his job, keep the safety we provide? Hmm…?’ He hummed. ‘You are in no position to deny him a nice life, are you now?’ He raised a wicked eyebrow, making worried tingles run up Belle’s spine, his lips now moving so very close to her neck.

And before she knew it herself, realised it herself, she had started to run. Away, away from this spiteful, hideous man.

Had he no decency?!

With great haste in her long skirts Belle ran and ran, further down the long hallway, her ears pricking as she heard Ismael’s amused laugh.

‘I DO LIKE TO HUNT!’ He roared, his hands playfully clawing at her speeding off silhouette. And with that he started the chase, his attire far less restricting and his strides far stronger and longer, making it an uneven match from the get go.

Where to go next? Belle looked around, not knowing the estate quite well enough, whereas her predatorial suitor most definitely knew every nook and corner.

And then she noticed a door, leading out to the terraces.

Without a second thought she ran out, into the light trickle of another rain shower, the blood from her scratched open hands mingling with the clear heaven water as she ran and ran, blue skirts soaking.

The gardens of the Les Comtes were immaculate. Sharp shorn bushes, straight lines, everything neatly trimmed to angular perfection - following courtly fashions to a tee. But the problems with such a garden was that hiding there was just about impossible. And thus Belle continued to run, her heart thundering in her chest and the ache in her hands near forgotten as she made a beeline for the forest.

Ever her safe hide-out when she so needed, she knew the forest paths so well that the low light of the evening fall caused her no trouble.

Unfortunately for her though, the chase didn’t end there, her eye catching the silhouette of Ismael behind her as she had made it to the tree line. And from the looks of it he wasn’t stopping, his gruesome laughter hackling in the rainy wind.

Why was this idiot of a man laughing so?

Belle continued to run. Further, deeper, faster, her breath tight in her corseted chest. Her hands were bleeding so profusely that she sure was leaving a perfect track for any true predator, her blood staining the leaves and branches she swept aside in her flight. But she couldn’t care. She didn’t even dare to think of what the forest had to hide at this late hour of the day, the daylight faded away and her eyes barely managing to see a thing now.

It was then she felt her skirts snag into something, her bleeding hands instinctively pulling at the fabric, making it rip to shreds.

And.. on she ran, the sound of Ismael’s laughter slowly dying away in the ink black darkness, her skirts continuing to brush against invisible bushes and branches.

Was he still there? Oh, how could she always get into such trouble?!

Scolding herself she refused to slow down, her feet stumbling over tree roots, hands skinned open from the rough bark of the trees, her breath panicked and short. She couldn’t see a thing, but she surely must have looked a mess.

And then she got stuck again, this time much worse, her ankle crunching angrily as she sank through a rabbit hole of sorts, falling sideways in another thorny bush. The prickly plant cut like angry knives into her skin, her hands, arms, legs and face fighting in bitter despair to get out. But like a drowning sailor at sea, she simply didn’t know what was up and down anymore, her wild thrashing only making things worse, getting her more stuck.

It was then the tears finally came. Hot and angry in the veil of night.

Belle was a tough cookie, but this? This was just too much.

As she slowly halted her attempts to free herself, she came to the bitter conclusion that this may very well be it. Stuck in a dark forest, bleeding profusely and with a dull pain wrecking her terrified, trembling body.

This may just be it. Her end. Perhaps she would become a snack for that evil monster, or, as she suspected to be far more likely; a pack of wolves or a bear.

Quiet sobs escaped her rosy lips as she tugged a few more times, her body not managing to move, her torn skirts evilly twisted like a cocoon around her limbs and her arms caught in the embrace of the brambles.

Yes. This was it. Run from one problem..and get into an even bigger one. Classic Belle.

‘Forgive me papa.’ She trembled, angry tears billowing down her cheeks. OH she was such a fool! How could she leave him alone like that?! She should have never left his side. She should have never trusted that Ismael. She had known it! ARGHH!

He could have known.

Watching himself in the tall gilded mirror he watched the flurry of scars that marred his porcelain skin. All healed. And within a few months they would be completely gone again. It was always like that. But before then he tended to watch those tiny lines and ripples in his perfect skin, reminding himself of what a fool he had been.

Again.

Could he do any good at all? It was a question that rang in the back of his skull like a tolling bell. Bell. Belle. Hmm. And there was the second thing he couldn’t stop thinking about. That night, seeing Belle so up close, had awoken something in him. And seeing that she saw him - albeit in the lingering dark - made the hungry thoughts in his mind even wilder. His still heart was once again beating with a certain excitement. Life resetting anew in his veins.

In fact. That night the hunt for his hide had been but an afterthought, the burn of his skin but an inconvenience and the sorrow for the villagers’ rejection but another mild disappointment.

She had seen him.

And no, she had not screamed, or chased him off. She had just stood there. As if she knew who he was. As if she had known all along. It was that mere idea that made his empty stomach flutter with a certain giddy excitement.

Argh yes. The empty stomach. It was time to hunt, his beastly belly growling with a need for getting his fill. And as always, blood was on the menu.

Taking his sweet time he dressed himself, hiding every bit of his pale, marred skin. A long sleeved white blouse with high neck, dark high waisted pants and, last but not least, a slightly worn but ever his favourite, burgundy red velvet vest.

Walking down the grand staircase he busied himself with buttoning his cuffs, the small coppery roses pricking awkwardly in his claw-like finger tips. The cuffs had once belonged to his father. Centuries ago, that is. But now they were slowly decaying beneath his fingertips until at some point they would break.

It was like most discomforts in life; they proved terribly hard to die easily. And his rose-shaped cuffs? They were definitely one of them.

Arriving in the main hall he picked a long coat with a hooded mantle on top. A gentleman’s getup for a gentleman that was long past his due date. Centuries past his due date. The monster peered in the mirror next to the heavy doors, his lips curling up to show two pearly white fangs, the clearest reminder of what he was.

No gentleman indeed.

The winds were picking up again, sweltering summer nights but a distant memory now as new rain clouds drifted in on the starless sky.

Walking through the unruly path of the unkempt castle garden he sniffed his nose, pricked his ears, peered into the dark. The first drops were starting to fall into his dark chocolate curls when he felt a tremor not far from the castle gardens. A strange tremor. Not like the mice that were hiding in their hollows. Not like the squirrels that were hamstering their winter’s stashes.

No, this was not an animal. But a man. Or woman in fact. Yes. A woman. Pricking his ears even more, the wind making it slightly difficult to discern what he heard, he listened closely.

Indeed, a woman, agonised whimpers escaping her trembling lips, branches crunching as she despaired.

Should he...go?

Frowning at the very idea that he was contemplating whether or not this woman deserved his attention, made him shiver. He was a monster indeed! How could he even think of leaving the poor woman out here in this stormy weather, left to her own devices and obviously being no match to the many predators that loomed in the thicket of the forest.

With his cape flying out behind him he speeded with great haste to the tiny tremor he picked up, following its echo until he could hear her whimpers more clearly. Blinking in the stark darkness he could define her body as it lay there, entrapped in an evil looking bramble. Wild roses.

Those darn roses again. How could something so beautiful be so painful, too?

Stepping in closer he studied the pale limbs, the...blue..dress. Oh no, oh no. Panicking ever so slightly he started to use his beastly strength to rip away the thorny branches, finding beneath them a bloody body.

Belle.

Her breath was shallow, but finally calm. Most probably she had lost consciousness only moments ago, her fight with the thicket having exhausted her. The monster swallowed at the sight. The pretty woman all scratched and bruised, blood crusting on her pale skin. Her blood. Her sweet, sweet blood.

His nostrils flared at the intoxicating smell, but he quickly pushed the temptation aside, his eyes flitting out to watch the darkness around him, seeing and hearing if anyone was there. If anyone was following her perhaps. But for miles he couldn’t find a single soul, all townsfolk dancing at the Les Comtes, or safe in their beds.

Oh, sweet Belle, why are you here? Alone?

Looking back at the disheveled mess of brown locks, rosy lips and snowwhite skin, he came to the fast, though uneasy conclusion that he couldn’t leave her here. Pulling the rest of the branches aside he got an even better look at the state she was in. No state to just be dropped off at home.

She needed care.

And thus he picked her up, her weight light like a feather in his log-sized arms, his cold blue eyes taking in her face now she was here, so close to him, his legs carrying them back to the castle without a slip of the foot.

For years he had watched Belle from a distance. Growing up from this quiet little girl to a caring, curious young woman, her large brown eyes taking in the world around her with such marvel that he couldn’t help but marvel at it all the same.

Here she was. Belle.

His Belle.

Chap 4 >

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly

Vampire!Henry Tagsquad: @elinesama @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag lists, shoot me a message!

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #beauty and the beast au #vampire!henry #vampires #vampire #belle #stalking #kidnapping #dark fairytale #adult fairytale #long fic

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kadeuxhyeonju · 4 years ago

Text

‘Tis the Year

Kadeu, Hearts Territory, The Vega Gem

13 Sunday, 2020 0600-1000

Though the sun had yet to rise properly and greet the citizens of Kadeu, Hyeonju was already up, preparing for the day. Opening the curtains of his apartment windows, the Heart looked out into the darkness. It was quiet as always. He hadn’t been getting much sleep as of late and his bouts of insomnia were leaving him restless. Itching to keep himself busy and his mind away from darker thoughts, he’d taken to spending the evenings (or rather the wee hours of what could hardly be called morning) arranging and rearranging the Vega Gem and going over his books. It seemed this day would be no different.

With hardly a thought, Hyeonju dressed himself, plucked his favorite bladed fan from the shelf that housed his collection, and made his way down to the shop. Prepping the shop for opening was as second nature as shifting into a fox; it hardly required thought or energy. Displays were wiped down, shelves were dusted, jewelry was polished to a pristine shine. He switched out specialty pieces for others—to keep the interest of his customers, naturally; they loved shiny new pieces. He glanced at his pocket watch—0530. He had plenty of time before opening. Alexei and the rest of the staff wouldn’t be in until 0800, an hour before opening. Hyeonju strode toward his office, deciding to move on to the paperwork and financial records that called for his attention.

Hyeonju paid little attention to the time, focused on responding to his stack of inquiries from business partners and customers alike. He was hardly finished with his fourth letter when he heard what he could only describe as a rumble that seemed to shake the air around him. In the distance he heard shrieks and shouts—unusual considering how thick the walls of the Vega Gem were. Before Hyeonju had a chance to process the sounds of panicked citizens and the growing thickness of the air around him, a deafening crash broke through his thoughts.

Something almost like dread pooled in the Heart’s stomach, but rather than succumb to it, his former Spade training kicked in. Hyeonju pulled a gilded blade from a hidden alcove under his desk. His fan was tucked against his side. With quick, determined, silent strides, he made his way to the front of the shop where the noise had come from.

And froze in shock.

“What the fuck.”

Two winged demonic creatures were hopping around like apes, smashing through his expensive displays and—

“Like hell you’re running off with that you lil’ shit! That’s worth more than even half your worthless life!”

One had taken notice of a particularly shiny crown embedded with the highest quality diamonds, garnets, and lapis lazuli. The other had taken notice of the Heart and was emitting what he could only describe as something between a growl and a screech. Hyeonju’s combat training kicked in. He could feel the change overcome him both physically and mentally. Bodily, his fox burst forth in all its glory. His nine tails fanned out, bristling with unrestrained rage; his black-tipped fox ears were flat against his head, canines were fully displayed, claws elongated to sharp points, and eyes glowing a deep amber.

Mentally, Hyeonju was watching the demonic creatures—for that is all they could be, though he’d never seen their like in his century and a half of life—looking for an opening. The one holding the crown was trying to make off with it, but the hybrid moved quickly, bounding across the show floor with an agility not usually seen. He gripped the knife in his left and reached out with his right, digging claws into the creature’s back. It howled in pain and fury, twisting to retaliate, but Hyeonju was already moving, blade sinking deep into the ugly thing’s eye socket. Turin poured from the wound and the creature flailed. Hyeonju was about to strike again when he was batted away and across the room by the other creature.

Hyeonju slammed against the edge that marked the wall from the ceiling and down onto the marble floors back first—hard. “Fuck. I think I just cracked my ass,” he growled through gritted teeth. He tried to lift himself from the floor, but the creature that had hit him threw its full weight onto his chest. Hyeonju let out a cry that was really a snarl even as the creature batted the hybrid with its gnarled hands. Hyeonju heard more than felt the give of his ribs as they snapped, forming blades of their own that sunk deep into his stomach.

The adrenaline was running strong and Hyeonju used that to his advantage. He no longer had the knife, it being embedded still in the other demon who he could make out in the corner of his eye. Flashbacks of his Spade training flitted in his mind and his body reacted on muscle memory. Ignoring the—severe—pain that wracked both his stomach and buttocks, the hybrid pulled one leg up to wrap around the creature’s leg while the other braced against the floor. His hands gripped the creature by the shoulders and in one fluid movement, Hyeonju used the creature’s weight to throw it up and over his head.

It was stunned, but only for a moment, Hyeonju knew. He blinked, mind racing, before settling on creating a handful of illusions that looked like him, though perhaps a bit less clear, fuzzy around the edges. Seeing as they were human-sized and human-like, Hyeonju wouldn’t be able to keep the illusions going for very long, but he didn’t need them to—he just needed to make sure he could land a decisive blow or hope help arrived before these disgusting creatures hit the correct Hyeonju.

He didn’t know how much time passed—fifteen minutes, perhaps, twenty tops—before he heard the tell-tale signs of swords clashing just outside. Hyeonju was panting now, even as he dodged blow after blow, swinging his fan down and out in attempts to land a hit, but the creatures were too fast and he was too injured. His illusions were fading out and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer before he did too.

His moment of distraction cost him.

Seeing an opening, the demon with the crown lunged at Hyeonju’s blind spot. Hyeonju tried to dodge, but a bout of dizziness made his steps clumsy and he fell across the shattered glass of the shop’s front window. The hybrid let out a weak, but angry snarl, but the creature merely bounced around on the displays before pouncing on the one nearest the Heart, knocking the large unit over—and towards Hyeonju. The hybrid tried to scramble out of the way, but the other demon was in front of him ready to rake its claws at him.

A resounding crunch filled the Vega Gem—and Hyeonju howled in agony as his left hand was flattened by the display case.

Hyeonju was hardly able to see past the red that filled his vision, but he could see Joui’s soldiers piling through the entrance of his shop. He saw the demon creatures scramble to escape the Fae and their weapons, spread their wings and fly off with a handful of his most expensive pieces.

SHIT.

One of them was Joui’s commissioned piece. How in the gods’ names did they get ahold of that? It didn’t matter now. Joui would have to get to him first before the Heart’s wounds offed him and he didn’t think that was likely given the state he was in. All Hyeonju could do was flop against the marbled floors that were now coated in glass, jewels, turin, and blood and let the last of the adrenaline seep out of him. Exhaustion overtook him and the pain was now hitting him full force. The Fae soldiers were approaching the hybrid, ignoring the instinctive growls that emitted from low in his throat. He could only imagine how he must look to them, though he was sure they hardly cared.

“Can ya take me to the nearest and best healer? Or put me in a carriage and send me off to them. Think I’m dyin’ haha! Fuck. This is such bullshit. 2020 is FUCKIN’ BULLSHIT! Can’t even end the year on a sexy note. I’m all bloody, I’ve got a stomachache, my ribs are cracked, my fucking ass is cracked, and my shop, my precious shop--look at my shop--LOOK AT IT. My hand, dammit. How am I supposed to do my work like this?” Ah, the shock was kicking in. Good thing the creatures hadn’t swiped the heavy pouch of coin sitting nestled in possibly the only spot that hadn’t been torn to shreds by them. He was going to have to pay a pretty coin to get patched up and fix his shop.

A-FUCKING-GAIN.

#kadeuxhyeonju #self-para #self para #'tis the year #juju is going THROUGH IT #HAPPY YEON NEN AND NEW YEAR \OJO/#he most definitely did NOT say

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fieryfantasybooklover · 4 years ago

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Cast In Shadow And Blood - A Clace fanfic

Consider this a sign that I am, in fact, alive.

Taggs: @lily-chen-deserves-better @blackthorn-trash @mithriel-of-mithlond @brotherhalal-ariahs @julieandthefandoms @themostawesomehuman @zfoxdraws @hands-dripping-ink @insane---chaos @rainbow-sheepofthefamily @girlwhohatesstuff @tessagraycarstairs @imherongraystairstrash

Note - Clary and Jace are the main characters here, the others are just mentioned.

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Clary settled down into bed, sparing only one glance for the descending curtain of night that was chasing away the sun. Snow fell softly outside, silencing the world in a blanket of white. She turned to Jace, who had settled into bed beside her a moment before. “Good to see you here.” she said, grinning. “I was thinking you’d somehow managed to murder yourself using kitchen utensils, but thankfully you do seem to still be alive.” Jace grinned, handing her the bowl of snacks he’d gathered on his snack run. “You know me. I love to keep people guessing. You would know that most of all.” he said, chuckling. Clary, laughing, punched him playfully in the shoulder before leaning back onto the pillows. Jace grabbed the remote, settling in beside her. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Clary asked Jace, in that way where nobody could be sure if she was being serious. “I survived a literal hell dimension, I think I’ll be ok with some horror movies.” Jace replied, turning on the TV they had installed in front of their bed.

The next few hours speed by in a rush of buttery popcorn and melted chocolate and a myriad of scary movies. Some featured the paranormal or supernatural, others much more real fears like insanity and serial killers. By the time the clock struck 2 pm, they had watched enough scary movies for a lifetime and, though neither would admit it, were feeling quite on edge and jumpy. As the credits rolled for The Ring, Jace turned to Clary and exhaled deeply, letting all his nerves out. “Wow.” they said simultaneously, laughing in pure relief everything was right in the world. “I’m gonna go put everything away.” said Jace, standing, stretching, and grabbing the empty bowls. “Alright you do that. I’ll get everything ready for bed.” Clary replied, already flicking off the television and pulling the blinds shut. Jace returned within a few minutes, hands empty and tiredness gathering behind his eyes. It wasn’t long before both were settled under the covers with the lights off, facing each other and breathing evenly. “I love you, dork.” Clary said affectionately to Jace, kissing him. “I love you too.” he replied, hugging her close.

They fell asleep like that, happy and together and content that everything they had just seen was firmly within the realm of fiction.

Clary’s eyes fluttered open, making their way to the alarm clock. It read 3:05 am. Groaning, Clary slid out of bed and stood, making her way to the bathroom in the complete and utter black. It took her only a few moments to gather her surroundings and realize that something was very very wrong. What she saw gazing out the window was her first clue. There was absolutely no sign of life outside the Institute. No cars, or shop windows, or even a few people staggering their way home late. The snow was still steadily falling, blanketing every single surface. The pitch blackness of this time of morning covered the landscape, twisting and contorting it into something completely unrecognizable. By light, Clary could have navigated those streets with her eyes closed. But by dark, all her pleasant memories of the spot were gone and nothing could be seen or gleaned from the area. Put simply, the darkness hid things. And this darkness in particular seemed… dangerous. Parasitic. Permeated only by the faint glow of street lamps. And that light was certainly not enough to reveal anything the darkness could have been concealing.

The second clue that something was wrong was the silence. Outside the Institute and inside. Outside, the snow was silent as the grave and there were no night sounds. No animals, sounds of farawar life, or even the crackling of electric lighting. Inside, it was just as quiet. None of the sounds that were usually associated with a building so huge and old. The floorboards didn’t creak, no faint sounds echoed through the halls. The silence was eerie, and more than a little unnerving. By now, Clary had reached the bathroom and was quietly using the restroom and washing her hands. The splash of the water seemed deafening compared to the lack of sound. Darting out of the room and back to their bedroom, Clary realized the final factor in why everything felt so wrong.

The air. It was strangely... heavy. Somehow forceful, as if something was compressing it down. The air slunk around the halls, and Clary could not shake the feeling that not only was it weighing on her, but something was watching her. Trying to shake the feeling of unease, Clary slid back into bed beside Jace, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep. This attempt did not last long, and soon Clary popped her eyes open again. She quickly looked at Jace. He was still sound asleep. She sighed, flopping backward. “What I wouldn’t give to just be able to fall asleep and stay that way.” Clary thought, exasperated. It was just then that something shattered downstairs in the Institute. Clary sat bolt upright, eyes wide and heart pounding. Fear ran through every inch of Clary’s body. Pure, bone chilling fear that made her feel like she was disintegrating. Shook to her bones, Clary wrapped her arms around herself and tried to calm her shivering. “You’re just being irrational.” She told herself. “Maybe I left a window open and the wind knocked something over.” she rationalized, still shaking from head to toe. If the wind was the cause, you would’ve heard it from outside, a voice at the back of Clary’s mind whispered.

A chill descended on her then. Something so cold and gripping that it was like one thousand icy wolves howling to the wind before ripping you to shreds. Clary felt an icicle slip down her back and she launched to her feet, unsure of what to do. She felt her lips turning blue and her skin paling under the duress of the chill. Something thin and skeletal whipped through the room then, cloaked in a raggedy, torn robe. The terrifying sight of it burned itself into Clary’s eyelids. It was so quick and quiet that she could have convinced herself she was imaging it, except for the fact that the blinds were now thrown open and the window was cracked. Neither had been that way a split second before. Clary turned to Jace, shaking his shoulder and hissing his name repeatedly. “Jace! Come on Jace, wake up! I think there’s something here!” but he wouldn’t wake, and it seemed he was permanently stuck to the bed, Atleast, until he shifted and his neck snapped at an angle no human could survive. His face shifted to face hers. And that was when Clary screamed.

There was a painfully large grin on Jace’s face. His lips were stretched back from his teeth, and his face seemed to glow with an unholy light. He was unusually pale, as if all the color had been soaked from him. His eyes shone far too bright with something close to madness. All Clary knew for sure in that moment was that whatever was in front of her was not her Jace. Beyond that, she didn’t know. It must have read the question on her face, because it opened its mouth and hissed out something that was infinitely not human. Clary frantically searched her index of language knowledge for a translation, but found nothing. “See you soon.” it whispered, smile stretching wider. “You have summoned me with visages of horror, and now you must pay the price.” Jace’s body collapsed onto the bed. Within moments he was stirring, and Clary was frantically at his side. “Jace? Jace! Are you ok? How do you feel?” Jace pulled himself upright, rubbing his eyes and looking around confusedly. “What’s happening?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep. “Please just trust me. We have to go now .” Clary whispered, pulling Jace to his feet. He read the frantic nature of her voice and instantly snapped to alert.

The pair began running out the bedroom and down the hall. Jace knew little of the situation, but still flew through his brain for allies to call for help. “Simon and Isabelle? No, they’re on vacation in the countryside. Magnus and Alec? Fuck, they’re investigating a situation in Cincinatti there’s no way they’ll make it back on time.” as his list of allies ran dry, fear began to sink its claws into Jace. They were still running down the halls of the Institute, desperately trying to make their way to the doors. However, one blink of time and it was all over. Screams of anguish rang in both Jace and Clary’s ears, reaching a pitch so high both bent over in pain. There were brief flashes of blood, painting the floor, walls, and ceiling red. The entire building began to shake, as if something was gnawing away at the foundations. Wraithlike forms began to appear, empty eye sockets somehow still managing to glimmer with malice. Jace and Clary were desperate now, dodging the foes while still scrambling for the door. Then, one popped into existence right in front of them. They skidded to a halt, trying to turn around but it was too late.

The being reached one of its hands right through Clary’s heart and the other hand right through Jace’s. Suddenly, they were back in their bedroom, standing beside the bed. The room was cast in shadow and blood, faint rays of light revealing the room to be a horrible parody of its former self. Both Jace and Clary tried to move, but found instantly they were frozen and rendered completely immobile. They barely had time to exchange one glance that said so much before the specter appeared before them, reaching into their hearts again. And then, it twisted. Pain. Pain that made every past grievance seem like a paper cut in comparison. Blinding white pain, like a thousand explosions in one form. The pain of bones cracking and twisting and shattering into five million glass sharp shards. The pain of loneliness, of longing so deeply for someone to be by your side that you turned into a ghost yourself. The pain of helplessness, of being unable to move or cry out or scream or do anything as your death approached. So many shades of pain, twisted neatly up and forced right down into Jace and Clary’s souls.

The terrible finality hit them then. They were going to die. And nobody could save them. Eeking out a few moments of clarity, Jace and Clary turned their gazes to the other. “I love you.” the gazes said. “I love you, and I will love you from now until the moment time ends.”

And then, everything faded to silent, deep, nothingness.

Clary sat up in bed, sweat beading down her neck and terror whining in her head. Jace was safe asleep beside her, breathing softly and calmly. The alarm clock, the sole source of light in the room, read 3:03.

A scream built its way through Clary’s mind and body, working its way slowly up through her throat.

A voice slithered into her head, ominous and inescapable.

I am coming

#clace #clary fairchild #jace herondale #malec #sizzy #shadowhunters #tsc #fanfiction #megans writing #magnus bane #alec lightwood #simon lewis #isabelle lightwood

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 4 years ago

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Today I started thinking about what thecorteztwins’ Alt-Marauders would be like as cats, because that’s a good use of my time. Imagining the fursonas of comic book characters. And I don’t mean characters from the musical, I mean actual house cats. So I typed it up and now you all have to look at it. Breeds are based either on the character’s appearance or their personality (ex. Shinobi is Siamese because they are very vocal and demand attention, Sebastian as Maine Coon because they are big and furry).

Sebastian:

(This one looked sufficiently grumpy)

A mixed breed, but most prominently Maine Coon – he is big and hairy, with a long, thick coat, brown, grey and black tabby. Indoor-outdoor cat. Was born a stray, but spent many years as a factory cat, fed and cared for by employees because he kept the plant free of mice and rats. After the plant closed down, he wandered around, at one point siring Shinobi. His “owner” (not that Sebastian could ever be “owned” by anyone), began leaving out bowls for food for him, and eventually he deigned to venture inside the house. After all, it was warm and dry, free from predators, and had lots of soft places to sleep. Although he was willing to come inside, he was not willing to stay inside – a very independent cat, Sebastian insists on coming and going as he pleases. He roams outside and will sometimes disappear for two or three days at a time, but always returns. Unbeknownst to his owner, he actually has a few different houses that consider him to be “their” cat, as he will show up to eat whatever food they leave out. (Why attach himself to just one house when he gets food from several? It’s only logical). He’s not a very playful, vocal or affectionate cat. He won’t attack at random, but anyone picking him up, or petting him the wrong way will get bitten or clawed. If he is in an extremely mellow, sleepy mood, he may allow his owner to scratch his head and under his chin. He likes to believe that he dominates the house when he’s inside, but that’s actually Haven. At most, Sebastian just smacks down St. John and Shinobi when they get too rowdy. Madelyne will stand up to him, and he leaves Haven and Claudine alone. He has a favorite chair, ornate, expensive, and beautifully upholstered, and will plant himself right in the middle of it when he is inside. He is a ruthless and efficient hunter, although he doesn’t really need to do it. He spends most of his time wandering through the house and neighborhood like a king surveying his territory. Outside he mates with any female cat he runs across, inside Haven won’t let him touch Maddie or Claudine, so he just perches on his chair silently judging everyone.

St. John:

Mixed breed, short-haired orange tabby, scrawny with long legs and big ears. Originally a stray, spent some time “working” as a ship’s cat before eventually being adopted. Boisterous and energetic, an indoor-outdoor cat that needs lots of activity to be content. Shreds curtains, climbs the Christmas tree, knocks things off shelves (accidentally), loudly bounds around the house at 3 AM, jumps up on the TV stand to bat at the screen when someone plays a video game. Most likely to be featured in a viral Youtube video missing a jump or crashing into the wall. Too loud, clumsy and impatient to be a good hunter, but will proudly bring home “trophies” when he actually manages to catch something. He and Shinobi routinely chase each other around the house, play-fight, and sleep curled up together. Sometimes clashes with Sebastian, and the two will have to be separated. Also clashes with neighborhood cats, and will eventually get locked-in at night to avoid that. Not much of a “lap-cat,” and doesn’t care to be picked up, but enjoys being petted, and will voluntarily snuggle up to his owner on the couch. (Don’t touch his belly, though. That is a trap). Will nip and bat at hands, but is mostly play-biting, and will only bring the claws out if he is really frightened. Very friendly and curious, will come right up to strangers, and will follow his owner through the house and poke his nose into whatever they are doing. Even the bathroom is not safe, he’ll hop right into the shower. A very chatty cat, not as demanding as Shinobi, but he’ll meow back whenever a human speaks to him, and purrs like a motorboat. Likes to sleep in patches of sunlight wherever he finds them.

Madelyne:

Mixed breed, a short-haired calico, the smallest of the group. Had a comfortable life with a family, but was callously abandoned during a move. Went through several bad experiences as a stray, which left her skittish and unfriendly. Like Sebastian, the owner had to lure her in from outside with food, and it took even longer in Madelyne’s case – for several weeks she would bolt at the sight of people. Slowly, very slowly, the owner got her to warm up to them, and eventually she began venturing inside the house. It took even longer to for her to concede to being petted without lashing out and running away. However, once she began to feel safe and regain her sense of trust, she proved to be a very affectionate and loving cat. The owner still tries to avoid picking her up (unless absolutely necessary) or startling her, but she will willingly crawl into their lap. She dislikes strangers, and will generally hide whenever anyone else is at the house, but may eventually come out if the new person is there for several days. She especially likes hanging out in card board boxes or underneath tables, where she can watch everything but still feel secure. She also clashed with the other cats when she first arrived, especially St. John and Shinobi, who were too boisterous for her. But she quickly realized that they were not going to hurt her (even faster than she did with the human), and she now regularly plays with them. As her confidence grows, she can be adventurous as St. John, but not nearly as much of a dumbass. She is much more graceful, and manages to run around without crashing into things or knocking things over. She enjoys roaming around the house with Claudine, and cuddling up to Haven, and even manages to get along with Sebastian. She is the only cat besides Haven that can get away with smacking Sebastian around. She is fierce, but also extremely loving. Sometimes at night she will wander around in the dark meowing in a kind of mournful wail, as if she is looking for something that she lost. But if the owner calls her name, she will run back to join them. Although originally indoor-outdoor, she ventures outside much less than she used to, and tends to stay close to the house. She’s found a safe, happy place where she is loved, so why would she want to go anywhere else?

Shinobi:

His mother was a purebred Siamese, and his looks resemble her the most – long, slender and elegant, with cream and brown coloring. Was raised in a rich household, and was given every luxury, but his owners saw their cats as essentially decorations and status symbols, so he wasn’t given much affection. Eventually given up for adoption because his demands for attention became inconvenient. He is the absolute diva of the household, and he is loud. Mostly likely to lay across the owner’s keyboard, book, puzzle, video-game controller, etc. When not given sufficient attention, he will deliberately knock things off tables and shelves, jump up on the TV stand and block the view, meow at the top of his lungs. Constantly underfoot, but wails like a banshee if he gets stepped on. Indoor cat only, he tried going out through the cat door one hot summer day, and immediately fled back inside, for air conditioning, soft cushions to lie on, and his cat-fountain water dish. He doesn’t hunt – why bother when food comes so easily? He only accepts the best in toys, food and treats. Extremely affectionate, he will lay across any available lap, and cuddle up to the owner while sleeping (or lay across their face). He is eager to be petted anywhere, and will only protest if the person doing the petting is too rough or awkward. He rarely bites or claws people, he just meows or runs away if upset, usually pausing to look back at the offending party like, “How could you?” He usually hides from strangers initially, letting St. John be the friendly welcoming committee, but once he sees that it is safe, he will come out and flop down at people’s feet, expecting them to lavish affection on him. Tries to follow St. John around the house at night, but sometimes gets “stuck” in high places or gets lost in the maze of furniture, and will wail until he is rescued. Shamelessly steals food off his owner’s plate. Once nearly drowned getting his head caught in a glass of water. Will never sleep on the floor – only couches, beds, cushions, and his luxury cat bed.

Claudine:

Mixed breed, pure white short-hair. Indoor-outdoor. Was used in unscrupulous medical experiments, but managed to escape out an open window. Much like Madelyne and Sebastian, she had to be lured in with food, and eventually comes to see the owner’s house as a safe place. She doesn’t really lash out the same way Madelyne does, but she doesn’t become very affectionate either. She will endure petting by the owner, and will simply walk away when she loses patience, rather than biting or scratching (but she will scratch if threatened). Very mysterious, she frequently disappears for hours on end, but reappears very quickly when food is served. The owner has never been able to find her hiding spots, but it seems like she is never very far away. She wanders silently around the house at night, like a ghost or a shaft of moonlight. She is a much better hunter than St. John, as she is patient and quiet. She only clashes with the other cats if they get too aggressive, but is otherwise indifferent to them. She seems to enjoy Haven and Maddie’s presence, and will sometimes walk around with Maddie or sleep curled up next to her. She doesn’t tolerate strangers at all, and will make herself invisible when anyone else is at the house. When feeling comfortable, she likes to sit at the top of the stairs and observe everything happening around her. At her most affectionate, she might jump up onto the bed while the owner is sleeping, and curl up at the foot.

Haven:

A purebred Ragdoll, she is huge and extremely fluffy, with a brown and white fur pattern. Was a pampered show cat for many years, but was given away for adoption after her retirement (after she was no longer useful to her owners, in other words). Strictly indoor. As with many Ragdolls, her personality is extremely relaxed, affectionate and calm. Although St. John, Shinobi and Madelyne can all be very affectionate, Haven is the most patient. She easily puts up with toddlers and small children pulling her tail and lugging her around (generally just going limp in their arms). She never bites or scratches – at most she will cry out and run away if someone hurts her. A lap cat, she will lay on her owner for hours, purring contentedly, but also never seems to get jealous or upset when put aside. She does not loudly demand attention, she will just quietly snuggle up to the owner or any other person in the house whenever possible. She gets along extremely well with all the other cats, and was the first one that Madelyne accepted. Although never violent, she is the undisputed matriarch of the household. She will hold down and groom any other cat, even Sebastian, who will growl softly as he puts up with it. Her grooming is often a way of breaking up fights, or settling down the wilder cats like Madelyne and St. John. When she’s not cuddling with people, she sits curled up and stares into space, looking oddly wise and serene. Her favorite spot is a back windowsill where she can see out into the backyard, and the other cats tend to keep it clear for her. She enjoys watching the birds, but never seems interested in harming them. She doesn’t hunt at all, and will treat any small rodent that enters the house like her own kitten.

Special bonus: Fabian Cat-tez.

All of Shinobi and St. John’s bad characteristics, combined and amplified. He’s always on the wrong side of every door, but doesn’t have any of the Rum Tum Tugger’s swagger, and only wishes he could rule the neighborhood like Sebastian. Whenever he does something stupid, he will stalk away and angrily start grooming himself, pretending nothing happened. In fact, he spends more time grooming himself than any of the other cats in the household. Big floofy orange tabby.

Btw, I realize that it’s generally better for cats to be kept indoors, both to protect them from danger and protect local wildlife from their murder sprees. But I couldn’t imagine some of the Alt-Marauders as indoor cats. Let’s just assume the owner is trying to transition them all inside.

#thecorteztwins cinematic universe #I can't believe felt the need to type this up #housecat au for x-men characters #this is ridiculous and I am weirdly obsessed

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years ago

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🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 007 [The Exam Begins]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂ Backward

Word Count: 1,796 ☁

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“This is my destiny. Here comes a king. Everybody’s gonna see.” WAR*HALL, “King of the World”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

Something was slapping my face. Repeatedly.

My eyes snapped open, glaring at the blonde hero hovering above me. “The fuck is your problem – stop!” I grabbed his wrist, shoving his hand away from my cheek.

“It’s the day of the exam,”

I tilted my head backward to look at the window. There wasn’t a hint of light coming through the sheer curtains. “What time is it?”

“Five-thirty,”

“Fuck off,” I rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head.

“Hey, hey, get up!” He easily tugged the blanket off, throwing it onto the floor. “I have to go meet up with young Midoriya and I don’t want you to risk sleeping in, now get up!”

I groaned when he grabbed my arm, pulling me up and off the couch. “Fine, whatever. Imma go shower.”

“Breakfast is in the microwave. It’s chilly outside so dress warmly!” He called after me before leaving the apartment. I let the cool water run over my body, my forehead against the cold tile. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous as fuck, but I had confidence in myself and in the training Aizawa had provided me.

I dried my body, dressing in a pair of basketball shorts, a taco t-shirt, and a black hoodie.

The food was still warm, steam fogging up the plastic wrap covering the plate. A cheese omelet and a serving of white rice. Simple and nutritional, but not nearly enough to fill me up. I glanced at the window as sunlight started to streak across the horizon in shades of orange and purple. I set the plate in the sink, grabbed a couple of snacks from the cabinet and pulled my sneakers on.

I was ready to go.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

The entrance to U.A. High was packed with hopefuls. My eyes scanned their faces – confident, scared, nervous. Those were the most prominent emotions they were exhibiting. I stuffed my hands into my hoodie, following the throng of students as they piled into the building. Teachers herded the students into two lines, where we signed in at the desk and got our exam ticket.

After signing in, we were taken to a large gymnasium where rows upon rows of desks had been set up. A thin cement wall was constructed on each desk to prevent cheating. Midnight was standing at the front of the room with a smirk on her face and a riding crop in her hand.

“Everyone, take a seat! The written exam is about to begin!”

Students shuffled into the room, several boys rushing to the front to try and get closer to the R-Rated hero. I rolled my eyes, choosing a desk near the back. The last thing I wanted was to be closer to that woman, she doesn’t know what personal space is and I swear to god if she touches my boobs again, I’m gonna set this entire fucking building on fire.

After the room settled, Midnight spoke up, her voice echoing off the tall ceiling. “You will be given twenty minutes to answer as many questions as you can! There are a total of one hundred questions, each worth one point.” She started to walk around the room, her heels clicking against the polished maple floor. “Cheating is strictly forbidden. Anyone caught doing so will be punished severely.”

Her threat caused a wave of excitement to sweep through the male students. What a joke.

“BEGIN!”

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

After finishing up the written exam, we were led to an auditorium where the seats sloped downward like a college classroom. A podium was set up at the bottom, a large screen taking up the length of the front wall.

Where should I sit, hmm? I stood off to the side, watching as the students filtered into the room, nervously choosing a seat. I felt a tap on my shoulder and glanced over, meeting the golden eyes of Shadow. He smiled, his clawed hand grabbing my wrist as he pulled me over to toward the bird boy standing on the right side of the room, looking embarrassed.

“Let her go,” he ordered before bowing at me. “I apologize for Dark Shadow’s actions.”

The shadow in question looked between the two of us with a sad expression. Dam, he’s too adorable. I reached out, patting him on the head. “It’s no biggie.” I sat down and he followed, sitting to my right. Shadow was hovering between us.

The boy held out his hand. “My name is Fumikage Tokoyami.”

I accepted, giving it a firm shake. “Jen Winchester,”

Using that last name felt foreign on my tongue. I had briefly debated whether or not I made a mistake choosing that name over Gramps’. When Toshi had taken me to get my quirk registered, he had asked me what last name I wanted to use. I hadn’t even considered that at the time. In a way, I felt like I was betraying Gramps by not taking his name, but… this just felt like something I had to do. Whether I liked it or not, I was a Winchester. It’s part of who I am.

But don’t worry, Gramps, I’ll always be a Tegu, as well.

The fluorescent lights clicked off before a spotlight focused on that damned cockatiel known as Present Mic, who stood tall behind the podium. I knew all about him and his quirk from the one time I met his ass during a trip to U.A. with Aizawa. He’s loud and really fucking annoying. I don’t hate the man, he seems pretty decent, but he’s too damn high strung for me.

Shadow perked up, looking fiercer in the darkness that surrounded us as he leaned against my shoulder. Fumi looked like he wanted to scold him, but he held his tongue.

“What’s up U.A. candidates?” The cockatiel boomed with excitement. “Thanks for tuning into me, your school DJ. Come on and let me hear ya!”

I scoffed as the room remained silent. Because of nerves or just because they thought he was lame, I didn’t know. Probably a bit of both.

He started to shake at the rejection. “Keeping it mellow, huh? That’s fine. I’ll skip straight to the main show! Let’s talk about how this practical exam is gonna go down, ‘kay? Are you rea~dy?!”

“So cringy,” I muttered, placing my palm against my forehead.

“He’s quite… eccentric.” Fumi commented.

“Like your application said, today you rockin’ boys and girls will be out there conducting mock battles in super hip urban settings!” The screen behind him came to life, showing the mock city. Lines extended out from it to seven boxes, labeled with a letter from A to G. “Guard your loins, my friends.”

He did not just fucking say that. What is wrong with this fool?

“After I drop the mic here, you’ll head to your specified battle center. Sound good? Okay?!”

What center am I going to again? I pulled the exam ticket from my pocket, scanning the card. Battle center E, huh?

“Aww, I wanted to fight alongside you,” Shadow said softly, peering over my shoulder.

I glanced at Fumi’s card – he’s in center A. I rested my hand on Shadow’s head to console him.

“Okay, okay, let’s check out your targets.” The city floated in the middle of the screen. Robot silhouettes appeared on either side of the city. “There are three types of faux villains in every battle center. You’ll earn points based on their level of difficulty, so choose wisely. Your goal in this trial is to use your quirk to raise your score by shredding these faux villains like a mid-song guitar solo!”

I deadpanned. The demonstration on screen was of a retro game where the cockatiel walked around kicking villains.

“But, check it – make sure you keep things heroic. Attacking other examinees is a U.A. no-no, ya dig?”

“Excuse me, sir, but I have a question.”

“Hit me!”

God, I would love to hit him right now. Preferably with a chair. He’s giving me a headache.

A spotlight focused on a tall, navy-haired boy with glasses who stood up and pointed at the handout of the faux villains. “On the printout, you’ve listed four types of villains, not three. With all respect, if this is an error on official U.A. materials, it is shameful. We are exemplary students, we expect the best from Japan’s most notable school. A mistake such as this won’t do.”

“What a loser,” a kid behind me snickered.

“Shut up, he’ll hear you!” But he was also laughing.

I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a loser but he was certainly making an ass of himself. He reminds me of a pretentious prep school kid. I clicked my tongue, leaning back with my hands behind my head. Guess it’s expected to find these types at the top hero school, huh?

He turned his glare to a student a few rows back. “Additionally, you with the unkempt hair. You’ve been muttering this entire time. Stop that. If you can’t bother to take this seriously, leave. You’re distracting the rest of us.”

“S-Sorry,” the kid mumbled, earning a laugh from the other students.

Poor kid. He’s probably just nervous. “What a toolbag,”

“Alright, alright.” The cockatiel tried to get everyone’s attention back on him. “Examinee number 7111, thnks for calling in with your request.” Another silhouetted robot appeared on the screen. “The fourth villain type is worth zero points. That guy’s just an obstacle we’re throwing in your way. There’s one in every battle center. Think of it as a hurdle you should try to avoid. It’s not that it can’t be beaten, but there’s… kinda no point. I recommend my listeners try to ignore it and focus on the ones topping the charts!”

The prep bowed. “Thank you very much. Please continue!”

Like he needs your damn permission to do so. Man, I really don’t like this kid.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today. I’ll sign off with a little present – a sample of our school’s motto! As general Napoleon Bonaparte one laid down, ‘A true hero is one who overcomes life’s misfortunes’. Mhm, now that’s a tasty soundbite. You ready to go beyond? Let’s hear a PLUS ULTRA!” Silence. “Good luck! Hope you practiced more than just books!”

Everyone was dismissed to get changed out of their school uniforms. Since I wasn’t wearing one, I headed straight for the bus that would take my group to battle center E. I noticed movement from the corner of my eye and glanced over, seeing Aizawa leaning against a tree with a cat in his arms.

“Did you steal that cat, bro?”

His eyes narrowed at me and he ignored the question. “Don’t make me look bad, kid.”

I scoffed as he walked away.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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vannahfanfics · 5 years ago

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May I request A current in-character canon-compliant, soft, angsty, romantic soowon x yona endgame fic please 🙏 thank you very much!!

Hello, dear! Very sorry it took a while to get this request to you; I’ve had a lot going on with the semester and my 200-follower event and such. However, at long last, here it is! ^.^ Enjoy!

Mad World

The wooden floor of her palace room groaned and moaned with her feverish footfalls as Yona paced back and forth, back and forth, back and back and forth and forth and back again. That was all Yona could do, was pace and think and think while pacing and pace while thinking. Back and forth, think think think, riddle on what the hell she was supposed to do basically imprisoned in her bedroom like this. No dragons, no Yoon, no Hak, just Yona. Yona, alone and pacing and thinking.

It was maddening.

With a sudden, deranged screech of lunacy, she whirled on her heel to tear into the curtains framing the large window overlooking the palace courtyard. Her fingernails ripped into the silken fabric, reaming into the threads and pulling them asunder as she yanked on the curtain with all her might. Little, angry screeches spilled from her mouth while she tugged and tugged, rattling the curtain rod mounted into the stone wall. The linear metal piece desperately tried to cling to the rough surface, but with Yona’s continuous and manic assault, dust began to rain down as the brackets began to wrench loose. Yona wasn’t sure why the poor curtain was the object of her ire, but nevertheless she tore into it like a mangy feral cat, dropping shreds of torn fabric around her slippered feet. Very soon the screws could bear no more and jumped from the wall; the heavy, decorative metal ball welded to the main body made the rod’s plummet all the hastier. Yona jumped violently as it collided into the wooden floor with a massive thunk! and the curtain slipped from her hands to puddle like white milk at her feet. She stared dully at the half-destroyed, dismounted curtains with burning red eyes. It was not satisfying at all; her fingers still itched to maim, to tear into everything in this room and leave it a maelstrom of silk and cotton and splinters.

“Princess! Are you all right?” Of course the noise would attract whoever happened to be nearby. Yona hadn’t much cared of the consequences of her actions at the moment; she was boiling with boredom and anxiety and frustration, and desperately needed an outlet. Normal people might cry, but Yona had elected that tears wouldn’t do. She was beyond tears now, or so she told herself. But…

Why did it have to be Soo-Won?

The young king stared with wide eyes at the curtain rod hanging at a diagonal angle from the wall, the one set of brackets struggling to support its weight, and the tatters of silk curtain surrounding the hem of Yona’s pink kimono. Her eyes were lidded and cold as she just watched him gawk. This was all his fault, really. Sure, Yona had decided to entire an alliance and come to the palace, but if Soo-Won hadn’t set off the chain of events that resulted in that alliance, this wouldn’t be happening.

Yona immediately regretted the thought. She knew better now. If none of this had happened, her people would still be struggling and Yona would be living in blissful ignorance. Sometimes, however, she just couldn’t help but crave that ignorance… Especially when the lingering flames of her love for Soo-Won decided to rear their ugly heads.

Yona’s mouth curled in on itself as her heart lurched in her chest just at the sight of him. It was maddening, the way her desire to dig her fingernails into his cheek mixed with her longing to softly caress it, the way her desire to rip every one of those flax-golden hairs out of his head mixed with her longing to run her hands through him, the way her desire to scream and yell and curse him in a thousand tongues mixed with her longing to throw herself at him and sob and beg and surrender. Maddening, yes it was. It was driving Yona to near insanity, and as she stood there, she was wide-eyed and teetering on an abyss from which there was no return.

“Yona.” His voice was soft and full of concern as he uttered her name. His eyes, still huge with the sight of Yona’s shredded prey, finally flickered up to meet her own fiery ones like dawn. To his credit, he did not flinch away at the inferno there; he just stared, measuring, waiting for her response. “Are you… displeased?” he said finally when she refused to respond. Really, Yona was still so embroiled with her own feelings that she couldn’t formulate a response. His question returned some sense of normalcy to her mind. The fire died in her eyes, cooled by the sheer incredulity at his question.

“‘Displeased,’” she echoed. Slowly, like water trickling from within rocks piled high, her wits returned to her. Her head dropped to do as Soo-Won had, stare numbly at the carnage she had wrought on the poor, innocent drapery. Her hands began to sting terribly with the weight of the own violence she had wrought, as if they were coated in hot, sticky, burning blood and insides. They were just curtains; it wasn’t like she had killed someone. Still, Yona’s stomach flopped about with the unsettling possibility that if someone had stumbled upon her in her mania, she might very well have unleashed on them like a woman possessed. It made the bitter acid of shame flood her tongue. Yona had never been so violent before. Sure, she had done violent things, but always with good reason. This was wanton destruction, and the fact that it was borne of her own hands rattled her to her core.

Well, it wasn’t entirely without reason, she rationalized. “Displeased,” she repeated in a hoarse voice. “Displeased” didn’t even scratch the surface of what she was feeling right now. She didn’t have a word for what she was feeling right now. Silent, teeth clenched, she just stared at the mangled curtains and lamented her own sorry state of being. How had it come to this? Cool, calm, collected, and strong to manic, deranged and mad?

“Yona.” His voice called her with maddening power. Of its own accord, Yona’s head rose to obediently meet his beckoning gaze. She hadn’t heard his footsteps, but he had closed the distance and was standing in front of her. She compulsively swallowed. His eyes were the one burning now, pulsing with a soft yet furious heat that made her tremble. It wasn’t anger, or disappointment, or disdain; it was something else entirely, and it both frightened and excited her. He tilted his head to the side slightly as he smiled that gentle reassuring smile that she missed so dearly but wanted to slap off his face. “Tell me what happened.”

She wanted to lie. She did not want to admit that she had just had a psychotic fit and wrenched the curtain rod off the wall and destroyed the curtains like some kind of beast. Yona, however, felt the pitiful attempts at falsehoods dissolving on her tongue under Soo-Won’s gentle yet critical stare. There was no point in lying and he knew well enough what she had just done. “This alliance isn’t working out the way you wanted it to, is it?” he asked her with a degree of amusement in his voice that made her skin itch with fury.

“No. No, it is not, Soo-Won.” The steel in her voice was sharper than the finest-crafted blade. At the iron on her tongue, the king exhaled deeply and his body sagged sadly. The reaction disquieted her; was he acting for her benefit or truly displeased that she was going crazy cordoned off in this bedroom? His eyes shut for a second, and when they opened, Yona felt electric shocks pulse over every single one of her nerves. The way he was staring at her, apologetic and guilty, was a look she had imagined every day since she witnessed him drawing a bloody sword from her father’s limp body.

It was not satisfying, not at all. Somehow, she wanted more. The madness began to scratch and howl in her ringing skull again.

“How dare you. How dare you look all sad and guilty when I’m stuck here with nothing to do but pace and think and fret all day!” she screamed at him suddenly. She lunged at him, fingers clawing into his kingly robes like they had done the curtains, but rather than shredding them, she only clutched onto them with an iron grip. Her red eyes burned as they bore into his, as if a glare alone could make his combust. “How dare you. You want to know what happened? I am losing my mind! I can’t take it anymore!” A dam erupted inside of her, releasing long-held feelings and tears. They were like rivers of ice and fire as they flooded down her cheeks, and her voice cracked as she hissed again, “I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what is up and what is down. My mind is reeling. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t know what you’re doing, and the one single comfort I could be afforded while I’m all but your prisoner in here is barred from me!” Her head dropped, chin banging against her chest. Her quivering hands held onto his clothes like the were the lifeline preventing her from being washed out to sea. She hated herself right now, admitted all this to him. But if she didn’t release it to anyone, even if it has to be Soo-Won, she really was going to go insane. What was her country? What was her fate? What was Soo-Won’s plan and how should she respond? These questions plagued her, maddeningly so.

With the weight of her on psyche mounting on her frail body, her knees finally buckled. Soo-Won reflexively caught her under her elbows as her legs folded in on themselves. Sobbing and groaning, she just cried pathetically while he held her up. “And you know… you know what the worst part is?” she choked out between sobs. “I hate you, but I love you. I despise you for what you did but I love you still. I thought I had grown so much, but I came back here, and it all has come crashing down upon me. I’m still that naïve, foolish little girl who wasn’t worth killing.”

“Yona!” She did not expect such harsh bite from his voice. It made her head snap up to look at him with wide and watery eyes. His lips were drawn into a taut line and his eyes were their fieriest yet. “I did not let you go because you were ‘not worth killing.’”

“Then why?” she demanded in an agonized cry. Her fingers dug further into his clothes, probably bruising the skin underneath. “Why, Soo-Won, I don’t under-”

The rest of her words came out as a surprised squeak muffled by his lips crashing into hers. It was not at all kingly, the way he kissed it her; it was passionate, carnal, desperate and mad. If Yona’s legs had been able to support her then, her kneecaps would’ve been obliterated to dust the instant their mouths smashed together. Her eyes fluttered shut with a low, needy whine; as if responding, Soo-Won’s tongue pushed into her mouth and tangled feverishly with her own. She didn’t object. She got drunk off him like she was partaking in the finest wine in the world, her tongue savoring every little bit of his essence. She could vaguely feel his fingers in her dawn-colored hair, caressing and twisting, but most of her senses were dominated by the explosion of feeling fireworking over her body. Oh, oh, how she had wanted this, and how much she hated herself for it.

She lamented the loss of his warmth and touch as he pulled away, and despite herself, her lips involuntarily chased him. She wanted to spend forever in that kiss. In that hazy fog, she didn’t have to think about the circumstances or how wrong it was; she just had to think about him, her mouth on hers and his hands on her body. It was simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. He permitted her pursuit for a moment, giving her another softer kiss with more feeling, but pulled back again after a few seconds. He said her name and it pulled her out of the fog, back to her confusing and complicated and maddening reality.

“Does that answer your question?” His voice was breathy and laced with a fair bit of irritation. Maybe with himself, maybe with Yona- maybe both. She swallowed and licked her lips, mouth suddenly drying up. Was she supposed to be satisfied with that? A kiss that seals the deal and makes everything all right? The trouble was that she was one hundred percent satisfied with that.

She stepped away from him, trying to hide the tremor in her still-recuperating jellified legs. She felt that her hands needed to be doing something so she smoothed out nonexistent creases in her kimono. Her brain whirled desperately trying to make sense of everything, but nothing made sense anymore. That was her problem to begin with. “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’” He sounded amused, like he had expected it.

“What do you expect?” she huffed. The fight was dying from her voice and spirit, replaced with indescribable weariness. She was so tired. She was so tired of fighting whatever this fight was, but that was the only thing Yona could think to do was fight. Surrender simply was not in the meek, naïve, ignorant princess’ blood, apparently. Her hands continued to fix her perfectly fine kimono while she refused to look at him. “I just… I can’t…” God, she couldn’t even explain herself. This is not how she wanted to look in front of him, flustered and stupid. It was like her previous self had been taken captive and replaced with a bungling imposter, and she was trying so desperately to get it back with little luck. Her hand began stringing through her hair, which was crimping uncomfortably with sweat. All the while, Soo-Won watched her, thankfully without pity. “I hate you,” she grumbled finally, because it was the only thing that sort of made sense.

“I know.” Oh, hell, no, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t get that sad look on his face and think that it made it all okay. But it did. In Yona’s stupid, manic, mad mind, it made it okay. Defeated, she kicked the curtain rod aside and sank down on the cushioned seat that sat below the windowsill.

“I love you,” she simpered as she put her flushing face in her hands. She didn’t have to look at him to know he had that other look on his face, that soft, gentle smile that made her heart sing and wail simultaneously. That smile that carried a hint of sadness that never faded.

“I know that, too.” A period of silence settled between them. She peered through her fingers to see his own twitching, like he was trying to figure out how to comfort her but arriving at no conclusions. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t know what to do with herself, either. As she sat there, the moonlight cool on her back as it flood through the unshielded window behind her, Yona finally began to feel a sense of normalcy returning to her. She partitioned off the confusing kiss and focused instead on her situation and what she ought to do about it, and was beginning to feel that clear-headed determination return to her. I just have to keep fighting. That is all I can do. I will resist as long as I have to and find out what Soo-Won wants…

She felt the cushioning dip beside her and heard the slight ringing of the metal as it rolled over the wooden floor when Soo-Won seated himself beside her. “I wish things were simple.”

“You’re the one who made it complicated.” She kept her face buried in her hands because she didn’t know what would happen if she looked at him.

“I suppose that’s true.” His laugh was hollow and mirthless. “I wish I could explain it all to you. I really do. But if I did, I didn’t know if you would believe me.”

“Can’t fault you for that.” Another hollow, joyless laugh that rang through the quiet bedroom, followed by a slight sigh. “I’m not giving up, you know. Don’t think this changes things. I just needed to get it out of my system.”

“No, I expect you won’t.” She finally lifted her head to look up at him, finding him smiling as he looked at her out of his peripheral vision. “You wouldn’t be the girl I loved if that happened.”

Surprisingly, her body garnered no reaction from that bombshell of a statement. It felt more like she had known it all along and she was vindicated now. It made a funny taste tingle on her tongue, one she couldn’t quite place; possibly a mixture of things. He smiled more as he pushed himself up from the seat and began heading for the door. “I’ll send someone to fix that in the morning,” he said with a lazy gesture to the destroyed curtains. Yona watched him go with confliction and a heavy heart.

“Yeah. Sure.” Once the frame of the sliding door clacked against the threshold, she exhaled loudly and flopped onto her side; the cushion embraced her, sinking her down into its fluffy softness. With the adrenaline no longer pumping in her system, her muscles now felt the strain of torturing the curtains. Dully, she stared down at its wispy corpse spread out over the wood floor.

The Celestial Dragons. The usurper King Soo-Won. The displaced princess. The Thunder Beast. The unknown battle for the world as they knew it.

Maddening, it all was to Yona. Somehow, though, the one thing that should be the most maddening was no longer maddening at all. She smiled thinly to herself and rolled onto her back, the moonlight washing over her like enclosing her in a blanket.

You drive me mad, Soo-Won… But still, I love you so.

Enjoy this story? Here’s Part II! Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#yonawon #soowon x yona #soowonxyona #yona x soowon #yonaxsoowon #yona x soo-won #soo-won x yona #yonaxsoo-won #soo-wonxyona #yona of the dawn #yotd #akatsuki no yona #yotd yona #yotd soo-won #yotd soowon #yotd fanfiction #yotd fanfic #akayona #sooyona

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