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wri0thesley · 4 years ago

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it’s my blog and i get to write the self indulgent nanami scenarios <3

business before pleasure; nanami x fem reader, not sfw - guilty pining/masturbation (2.25k)

nanami’s brain always seems to be wired differently when you’re around.

It’s not that Nanami turns his brain off when he’s working. His line of work means staying sharp, of predicting the moves of any opponents before they can make them – either you do that, or you risk dying where you stand. Much the one he wields with his fist clenched and his eyes narrowed, his mind is a finely honed blade.

No. His brain doesn’t turn off. It just . . . grows used to a certain kind of pattern, he supposes. It works out his ratios, it helps him strike, it makes both ordinary plans and contingency plans in the blink of an eye; and it does it all as if automated. It works on known variables. He knows a curse will attack, he knows he will have to harness his technique, he knows that he will have to arc his arm and slice--

You are not programmed into his method.

He has his work brain, and his respite brain – his leisure time brain, if you will. He does not mix the two. He watched others at his office get tangled with one another, and saw how it would leak through into their work – how, when things inevitably came to a messy conclusion, the people involved seem to wilt into pieces and lose their resolve. They got messy.

Jujutsu sorcery is already messy enough, he thinks. He does not need to tempt fate.

So he sticks to the rules he made for himself. He does not mix business with pleasure. He does not allow a conflict of interest. He does not date colleagues. The latter was occasionally directed, not unkindly, at people in the office who would notice his sharp cheekbones and the lines of muscle underneath his well-pressed suit. They would approach him hopefully, asking if he would like to get lunch together, or asking about new restaurants having heard he was something of a connoisseur in that regard - and he would let them down gently.

Until you came onto the scene, he had never even thought about it in regards to jujutsu sorcery. The pool was too small for it to ever seem even an option to be ignored.

But then . . .there you were. Occasionally paired up with him because the higher-ups were considering promoting you to the next grade, always with a smile for him and a polite greeting.

That would be fine. He can handle working with other people; he’s a professional, after all.

What he can’t handle is the rest of you.

The way you look at him. Your ability to shift, in moments, from dangerous to dutiful. The way you remember little things he says, how you do things just because you can. Little kindnesses like remembering his favourite bakery and picking something up for him as well as for you. A gentle nature when there are civilians too close to where you need to be and you urge them to go somewhere else.

Most jujutsu sorcerers, he has found, have something about them that is simply too much. Whether they enjoy violence too much, or they do not think of other people, or they are Gojo Satoru – who is too much of more things than Nanami can count – he has never wanted to mix with them outside of work.

But you . . .

It’s not enough that you are sweet-natured, that you are kind, that you are hard-working and good at your job - that you are clever and hold up your end of conversations, when Nanami has time to snatch them with you. But his eyes cannot help but be drawn to the curve of your body underneath your clothes, the set of your mouth, the colour of your eyes. He cannot help but think of you sun-dappled in a morning, lazy-eyed and tired in an evening.

He cannot help but think of you beneath those fabrics, bared to his hungry gaze.

And – especially nights like tonight, when he has worked late, when you have barely bid him goodbye – he cannot always stop himself.

He shouldn’t.

He is enough in control of himself to feel like it’s a gross disservice to you, to reduce you to nothing more than fantasy fodder in his brain. But as he sits on his bed and loosens his tie, sighing, he cannot shake the feel of your body against him when he’d pushed you out of the way of a curse’s attack. Nor can he make the scent of your shampoo and conditioner leave his thoughts, the little gasp of surprise when you’d felt him make contact with your body.

He wonders if you would make similar noises, if he were to unbutton your clothes. If he were to press his nose against the junction of your shoulder and throat and breathe in the scent of you.

His slacks are getting uncomfortable. He takes off his glasses, tilting his head back, his sigh chest-deep.

He loves the way you say his name. Perhaps he has gotten too used to being called cute names by other people, that basic manners have become attractive to him – but your voice, softly caressing the syllables, always just a little hesitant as if you don’t want to bother him too much . . . Would you call him something else, if he kissed you? He doesn’t know if he’d mind you calling him Nanamin, if it were soft against his ear when his hands touched bare skin and he pulled you in closer.

He swallows as he folds his tie neatly. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. He shouldn’t be imagining skin beneath his fingertips and shuddering breaths. He shouldn’t imagine that it’s your hands, unbuttoning his shirt. He can see you in his mind’s eye nevertheless, lip caught between your teeth, brow furrowed in concentration. Hands soft against him, meticulous and careful--

His shirt is shed. He doesn’t bother to neatly fold it, to place in his laundry basket, though he’ll regret not doing it tomorrow. His mind is racing. He’s far too busy thinking about whether you would straddle him to kiss him, imagining your warm weight on top of him.

No. That’s a pleasant fantasy, he thinks, but for the first time he thinks he would like to be in charge of you. Sit you down on your knees and tip your chin up as he undoes the button and zipper of his slacks.

He palms himself through his underwear to the thought of your pretty eyes widening when you saw what was between his thighs. He’s not, as a whole, a conceited man – but no partners have ever complained before, and he doesn’t think you would be any different.

He imagines the soft gasp of his name, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you inched forward, shyly. He imagines how hot your cheeks would be underneath his fingertips if he caressed them, holding you tenderly. Telling you he knows you will do a good job.

It’s well-known that Nanami does not give out praise easily or often. Once, after an exorcism, he had thrown out some compliment to you – time muddies the thought of what you’ve done, but it doesn’t muddy your reaction, seared onto his brain. The widening of your eyes and the swallow, the brief stammer as you’d thanked him. It had haunted him for nights, imagining what you might do if he patted your cheek and told you how well you were doing.

He lets himself imagine it now.

One of his hands fists into the bedsheets behind him whilst the other encircles his shaft, a shaky breath escaping his parted lips as he imagines your mouth opening, your tongue darting out to taste him. His throat feels too dry as he imagines how warm and wet you would feel, how cute you would look as you gently eased your mouth further and further onto his cock.

He imagines petting your hair and growling low in his throat how good you feel, how it would send a spark of bravery through you – how you’d take more of him into your mouth, too full, swallowing down as much of his cock as you could. He would perhaps be more liberal with his praise, for you.

He has been doing this too often. You have no idea, when you smile and greet him and say you’re glad to be working with him again, that he’s spent so many nights with his fist pumping his cock imagining your voice pitching and breaking. That’s all it is, he tells himself, sternly. Fantasy.

Fantasies that he can’t stop himself from having. He groans as he relaxes back onto the bed, thumb swiping across the slit of his cock where he’s already beading pre-come. He imagines you pulling back from his cock, shifting uncomfortably where you’re knelt on the floor--

He throws one arm over his eyes, his breathing getting heavier and heavier with every beat of his heart and filthy thought that crosses his mind. Where would he want you, next? He thinks you would easily let yourself be overpowered, beneath all six foot of him.

There. Underneath him. He can almost feel the softness of your body pressing against where he is carefully maintained muscle. Can imagine your soft fingertips trailing over his skin, your lips leaving heated little kisses-come-pleas against his body.

His hand is getting faster.

Though common sense tells him that you are probably not a virgin, in Nanami’s mind, you always are. You’re always unsure, trembling – surprised by how good his hands feel all over you. Eyes rolling back when he lets his tongue lathe over the swollen points of your nipples, heart jumping when one of his big hands delves between your thighs to the slick valley of your sex.

In his mind, you always cling to him. You always make soft panting noises, whimpering, as he works you open with his fingers – you’re always aching hot, so tight around him that he thinks for a moment you might break. He imagines your fingers raking through his hair, dishevelling the careful styling. He thinks about you whispering his name like a prayer, over and over again, keening and pitching and breaking.

He is all over heat, helplessly bucking up even as he fucks into his hand and imagines it’s the warm, soft confines of your sex. He’s groaning, breath catching in his throat. He imagines you, hot and tight and wet – your legs clamping about his hips, your thighs in his hand. Your body rocking against his.

He imagines ‘please, please, please--’ in your voice, all breathy pleading and begging. He imagines you blinking up at him with your eyes all dark and needy – your godforsaken eyes, when so many other jujutsu sorcerers keep them covered--

If you didn’t look at him like that, maybe he wouldn’t be rutting into his own hand like a teenager. Maybe they wouldn’t haunt him, imagining what they’d look like when he was hilted deep inside you, or when they were looking up at him from his parted knees, or when he made you come with just his fingers--

The slick noise of his hand jerking erratically backwards and forwards on his cock seems to echo around the room, intermingling with his own heavy breathing. He wonders, sometimes, if you ever imagine him like this – rumpled and messy. If you did, maybe he’d feel better about how he just can’t stop objectifying you in his mind.

He knows you don’t, though. You’re professional and careful and unfailingly polite. And he does not think himself someone who is fantasised about.

The tight thread of tension within him seems to snap and he groans your name aloud, releasing it like a charm into the sacrosanctity of his bedroom. A white-hot bolt of pleasure followed by duller jolts and pulses, as he comes over his stomach to the thought of your face all needy and pretty and fucked out.

That image flutters in his mind longer than it has any right to. He misses when he could do this just to work out tension, without having your smile and your body and how you would react floating to the forefront of his mind. If you ever knew--

Those familiar pinpricks of shame begin to needle all over him, as his come cools and uncomfortable stickiness takes the place of heated desire. Nanami heaves a sigh as he reaches into his bedside table for a tissue to clean up.

No mixing of business and pleasure, he reminds himself. A recipe for disaster. He has to stop doing this.

But the next morning, he meets you outside of the location you’ve been called to and you press a steaming hot coffee into his hand.

“It’s cold,” you say. “I got myself one, and thought I should get you one too.”

He swallows before thanking you as you give him an earnest, hopeful smile. He knows that later on, he’ll recall that smile – imagine it before he imagines you kissing him, or before he imagines you enveloping his cock in your mouth or before he imagines you asking him to fuck you so hard you forget who you are.

Who is he kidding? He’s not going to stop doing it. Not when everything about you calls to him like a fucking siren call. He takes a sip of his coffee and tries to pretend that everything’s fine.

#jjk smut #writing #nanami x reader #not sfw #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #jjk x reader #jjk posting #no proofreading we die like men #afab reader #jjk writing tag

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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Honeymoon [Din Djarin x F!Reader] - **SMUT**

Summary: You’ve been saving your credits for months in order to treat your husband to the surprise honeymoon you both deserve. He’s a little on edge though, despite the luscious, tropical environment he’s surrounded by. So, as his wife, you do everything in your means to get him to relax.

Warnings: unprotected p in v, riding, cockwarming, orgasm denial, cunningless, cum eating, spanking, anal fingering, breeding kink, slight sub!Din if you squint. 18+ only.

Word count: 2600+

Reblogs appreciated. 💙

Beyond The Sea Masterlist

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

Marrying Din Djarin was the best decision of your life.

Standing dead centre in the middle of your hotel suite, your husband had never looked so out of place. The yon orange sunlight seeped through the crack in the voile curtains, and a warm, summer breeze waved gently through your hair. You could tell, even through his beskar Mandalorian helmet, that your husband was completely stricken by the beauty of the great outdoors. Your view from outside the hotel suite was a novelty, for sure. The beach’s water circled around the hotel and pooled outside into a tranquil, turquoise coloured ocean. A distance from your window, but not too far, was a growing jungle of vines and trees, habited by various reptilian animals that were distinct to the planet of Scarif. You couldn’t wait to meet them all.

You’d saved up credits, and it had taken almost a year, but finally— finally, you could afford this. A sanctuary. A small vacation. Something you could call your honeymoon. It was long overdue.

Din had warned you when you married him that a honeymoon wasn’t on the cards. It just wasn’t plausible. He was a bounty hunter and he worked every damn day, risking his life just so he could bring back enough credits to put food on the table for you and Grogu. A holiday of any sorts was out of the question.

But you’d been saving up in secret, and if he’d ever found out about your planned endeavour — well, he’d never approve. Good job he’d managed to keep out of your way when you bought the tickets for the five star hotel suite. What proved to be even more of a challenge, was persuading Din to take you to the remote and tropical island planet of Scarif.

You left the kid with Peli Motto on Tatooine, much to Din’s disdain. You’d spoken to Greef and broken a deal with him in secret; that the guild master was not allowed to provide Din with any bounties prior to the week you were due to go away. Everything rolled out perfectly, just as planned.

For the first time in a long time, your clan of three was living a stress free life, void of any anxieties related to Din and his profession. You loved him with your mind, body and soul, and accepted him for who he was. But part of you, a small part of your heart, hoped that one day, maybe he’d give up bounty hunting for good. He was getting older now. You’d occasionally pick out the greying hairs in his stubble, and the crinkles in the corners of his starry brown eyes were becoming increasingly more prominent. There was a beautiful galaxy out there, and he’d only seen the bad parts. The parts that were rampant with crime and death. You hoped that this honeymoon trip to Scarif would show him the true beauty of the world -- and everything he was missing out on.

He couldn’t bounty hunt forever. One of these days, he was going to have to settle down.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Din announced, picking up some complimentary hotel chocolates that had been left on his pillow. He pulled off his mustard coloured gloves and began to fiddle with the red foil wrapper. “All of this. I can’t believe you did all of this without me knowing.”

“I was afraid you’d be mad at me.” you mumbled, subconsciously rocking backwards and forwards on your heels. Din couldn’t even begin to imagine how much this trip had cost you, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the exact figure.

“I am mad at you.” He retorted, but you could sense the air of amusement in his voice. Din Djarin was an esteemed bounty hunter, the best in the Guild. He prided himself in being the best too. He was always one step ahead of everyone, always knowing what was about to come before others even knew themselves. Apparently though, his skill was lost on you. Part of him though, was proud. A pretty big part of him, to be exact.

He was chuffed to be able to call you his wife. He didn’t believe the day would ever come.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you pondered out loud, looking around the hotel suite. “Did you see those big colourful birds as we walked in? They were enormous. We should check out the gift shop and buy a disposable camera. I know Grogu would love to see the photos when we get back.”

Din tilted his helmet in acknowledgement of your comment, but opted to stay silent, his eyes fixated on you and only you. Yeah, he was sure Scarif was a beautiful planet (there was no doubt in his mind), but not even all the colourful birds or glistening waters in the whole galaxy could ever compare to the beauty of you. Your eyes snapped back towards Din when he didn’t respond, and you felt your mouth part as a knowing sigh escaped your lips.

“Tell me you don’t…” you closed your eyes, already mentally preparing yourself for his answer. “...Tell me you don’t have hunting mode initiated under that tin can helmet of yours.”

You knew that, under his black tinted visor, he was always in hunting mode. He had to ensure your safety one way or another. When he turned off hunting mode, everything was normal and in colour (despite this one glitch of pixels he had to get fixed). But when he was in hunting mode, his vision was a dull chiaroscuro.

“We don’t know how safe this planet is,” Din declared, his voice stern as he tried to reason with you. “We just arrived and I’ve never been here before. I haven’t even done a recce.”

You extended your arm and shushed him. “You haven’t been here before because no bounty or crime syndicate ever comes to Scarif. Since the battle between the Rebellion and the Empire, it’s been under full surveillance by the New Republic. There is security on every corner.”

“That doesn’t exactly work well in my favour.” Din muttered, although deep down he knew you were right.

“Do you really think I would’ve taken you somewhere that wasn’t safe for either of us? I’ve been planning this honeymoon for months, Din. Please, trust me.”

It hurt, seeing your husband like this. After bounty hunting his whole life, he was so… on edge. He always struggled to relax. You thought a tropical vacation might’ve just done the trick but maybe he needed more.

“Okay, you’re right. I trust you.” Din sighed in admittance, and you cracked one of your sweetest smiles at his revelation. It was enough to ease Din, even just temporarily.

“It’s too late to do anything now,” you said, biting your lip as you peeked behind the curtains and watched the sunset. “We can just stay in the hotel room and order room service, if you’d like.”

Din nodded, following your direction. He didn’t know the first thing about vacationing. But if one thing intrigued him, it was the luxurious king sized bed that stood before him. It was dressed in ivory satin sheets and silk pillow cases, and it was certainly nothing like the plank of steel you’d both lay on, back in the Crest. No, this was a real bed. You’d caught him staring at it and couldn’t help but smile at the smirk that played on your lips.

“Take off your helmet.” You requested.

“I--,” Din hesitated. “Someone could walk in and see me.”

“The door is locked. We have privacy,” you assured him. Din fumbled around some more. His heart stopped when you planted both your hands on his shoulders and searched for his eyes beneath the visor. “Trust me.” you reminded him with a plea of desperation.

He nodded and slowly began to lift off his helmet. And there, he revealed himself. Your husband. Though you’d seen his face many times now, you’d still always get an out-of-body experience, watching him take it off. Like it was some kind of sin.

“I love you so much,” Din’s unmodulated voice announced, and his brown eyes bored into your beauty. You smiled, feeling a wave of heat wash over your cheeks as you leaned your head into his chest. You slowly began to undress his plates of beskar armour, dropping them to the ground as you discarded them into a pile on the floor. “Such a pretty girl,” he cooed, and you shuddered, feeling his warm breath fan over the shell of your ear. “My pretty girl. All mine.”

“All yours,” you confirmed, dropping the final plate of beskar to the floor. “You need to relax, my love.”

“That word is foreign to me.” Din told you, smoothing out your hair before dropping his large hands down to your hips.

“So let me help you.”

You guided Din over to the bed he’d been eyeing up all night and helped him out of his under clothes, stripping him down to his boxer shorts only. You straddled his hips, pushing him back down amongst the satin sheets and letting your hands wander along his broad, scarred chest. He groaned wantonly. Your tender touch combined with the unfamiliar softness of what lay beneath him was almost enough to make him enter a meltdown. You hummed softly, your voice lulling him in the most comforting manner imaginable. Your fingers dipped further down his body and traced the short tufts of brown hair that poked out the hem of his underwear. Feeling your fingers fiddle with his waistband as he lay on the king sized bed felt ethereal. It was almost too much, he had to stop himself from swatting your hand away. If Din could have it his way, he’d grab you and roll you over, so he was on top -- taking control over you. But you had done this, all of this, to try and help him relax. So, he just lay there and surrendered to you.

The sky was dimming as the minutes passed by. You made a good habit to take your time with him, missing this kind of intimacy. Truthfully, it was hard to ever catch moments like this with Grogu being around. You and Din practically always had to sacrifice loving, passionate sex for quickies in between his bounties; and it wasn’t always easy.

“You-- you look so pretty like this, on top of me.” Your husband gasped out, his already dark eyes growing shades darker with lust.

For a split second, you pulled off him and untied your tunic, letting your simple robe fall to the ground and revealing your almost naked body to him. He was obsessed with you. Absolutely smitten, and it was unlike anything he’d ever been like with anyone ever before. Straddling him once more, you began to grind over his half hard cock, moaning at the friction between his underwear and your lace panties.

You leaned down and pressed your soft lips against his, enveloping him into a sweet kiss. You drop your lips along his gruff jaw and down the column of his neck, making a conscious effort to suck at his sweet spot you’d memorised so well. Reluctantly, you pulled off him and hovered over his lap, signalling with your hands for him to pull down his underwear. He took his hardening cock in his hand and wiped the beads of precum that had developed at his head. Taking the salty seed on his index finger, he brought it up to your mouth and pushed the digit in between your lips. You moaned longingly, relishing in his taste before pulling off him with a pop.

Din pulled off your panties and began to stroke between your folds, groaning when he felt just how slick and ready you were for him. He squeezed your hips and nodded, illustrating that he was ready, and you took a deep breath, anticipating the delicious stretch his cock offered you. You sank down on top of him, your eyes snapping shut as you felt every amazing bump and ridge and vein of his manhood grind along your fluttering walls.

He seated deep inside of you, giving you a few minutes to adjust, and he began to rub tight circles into your clit. He was absolutely mesmerized by you. You chanted his name like it was a prayer, and Din wondered how he ever got so lucky.

Feeling you clench around him and sensing you were about to cum, Din removed his hand from your cunt and gave you a small spanking on the curve of your ass. Your gasp of shock from your orgasm denial turned into a wanton moan as you wiggled further down on him. You giggled, nudging your nose against his as you felt the same finger he’d used earlier on you, make its way to your puckered asshole. Anal was something you’d been working your way up to, but hadn’t tried yet.

“Do you want this?” Din asked, teasing your entrance with the tip of his finger.

“Mhm,” you nodded desperately.

“Are you sure you can take it?” he beckoned, a wicked smirk gracing his soft pink lips.

“Y-yes,” you whispered.

“I can’t hear you,” Din growled, giving you another spank. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you cried, “P-please Din, fuck, please. I want it.”

“Dirty girl.” He gritted out, slowly pushing his digit inside of you.

Maker, you were full. In every way imaginable, Din was filling you up, stretching you wide, and it felt… amazing. You began to rock your hips over his cock as he lazily thrust his finger inside your asshole, and you felt yourself panting with every little stroke and movement.

“You look so good, like this,” Din gasped. “Won’t last long.”

And, he didn’t. The second he felt you cumming on top of him, your walls gripping his girth tighter than a vice, he came undone. His load was large, as expected, as his seed spurted in ropes inside of you. Din’s hands wrapped around your stomach and he began to rub soothing circles in your tummy. You didn’t lift off him, but instead, relished the feeling of his cock softening inside of you.

“Maybe this time it’ll work,” he grumbled. “And if not, we’ll keep trying. I won’t stop til I’ve put a baby inside of you, cya’re.”

You hummed and stretched out over him, resting your sticky forehead against his. “Good job we have all honeymoon.”

Din chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek with his hand. Well, if you’d accomplished one thing, it was that Din was certainly feeling more relaxed, that’s for sure.

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#din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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the-slasher-files · 4 years ago

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Slashers React - S/O being a witch or wiccan

INCLUDES JASON, MICHAEL, BO, BILLY & STU and LOST BOYS

btw I am a wiccan myself so I hope you enjoy the hcs :)

JASON VOORHEES

Holy fucking shit, you guys are a POWER COUPLE, never in my life have a thought of a better couple

He may not understand at first but once you explain it to him he adores it. Abiding by the laws of nature is something he already does, so the fact that you do too and share a lot of the same opinions of nature, melts his heart

Clearing a little area in the forest making sure it is hidden away for your alter is a dream job for him

Nature walks all the time but it has more meaning now, knowing you’re a wiccan or witch

Herb, flower, mushroom or plant picking is something he will always do for you, leaving them at your alter

LOOK he found a cool rock or a weird piece of drift wood or animal skull, perfect for you :)

Finds it very sexy when you are doing witchcraft, especially if it’s in the forest

You would slow dance to the rain and light candles everywhere

Gardening would quickly turn into one of his favorite hobbies with you

Teaching him about the holidays you celebrate gives him reasons to spoil you on those days, he would bake with you, make potions with you, bring in your moon water in the early morning for you

Your crystals are his favorites, all the pretty colors and unique patterns, he might steal one and carry it around with him, rubbing it when he misses you

Anything you do to appreciate his land and the cabin you share makes his undead heart flutter

The absolute best partner for a witch or wiccan

The crystal that suits him is an Amethyst - It is a grounding stone, bringing peace and calmness but is one of the best protection stones

MICHAEL MYERS

Major head tilt, squints

Once you explain it him he still doesn’t get it, and he doesn’t care

He will just examine your stuff, poking it and moving it around pissing you off

oh great, more holidays to celebrate

Secretly thinks it is kind of cool, but he will never tell you

Maybe thinks you’re a little crazy because he heard some other person in the mental hospital going on and on like you do

If you tell him he is blessed and has gifts he will have a hard time accepting that, but he would think about it forever because there had to be an explanation for how he could never die

He will bring you home something from a cemetery probably because he still doesn’t get it

He will just stare from the shadows of a candle lit room watching you do spell work

When he's pissed beyond reason, never sage him, never place crystals on him, never get him to drink tea, you might die

He will find a crystal in his coverall pockets for protection and he will never give it back to you, it’s his now and he will cherish it

The crystal that suits him is Black Obsidian - It is a pure black stone that has a mysterious aura, heavily used for protection, it is also a very powerful stone, good for healing and truth seeking

BO SINCLAIR

Again, another bad partner for this lol

You’re a what?? He has heard of witches before but never wiccans. Coming from Louisiana it has a very heavy history on witches and voodoo, good and bad. He honestly might be shitting his pants inside but keeps it cool, just please tell him you’re a good witch. His momma always told him to never ever mess with witches.

Thinks you’re crazy for believing in that stuff

If you feel the presence of his mom and dad, never bring it up to him, the only way you could do it is say “You’ve got some angels looking over you Bo” and leave it at that

You will make him learn to appreciate nature and taking him for walks is the best thing to do, it calms him and you can teach or tell him stories about what you believe in

He would tell Lester to grab some antlers or skulls for your “ummm idk what she does, she just needs them”

If you’re in some lingerie while doing witchy work, he will ease into it more

Bo would be the guy who yells about the sage smoke stinking up the house, while he is smoking a cigarette, b a s t a r d

Jokes about his bad energy filling your alter will happen a lot

He honestly thinks its cool though, after a while, seeing a beautiful powerful soul doing something you love warms his heart

He’s going to try to understand but he will laugh and make fun

If there are people in town he’s going to hunt that night, he will have to deal with you placing some sort of protection rune, stone or necklace either in his pocket or around his neck, Bo won’t like it at first but showing you care so much for him melts his heart and he will protect it with his life

His crystal is Smokey Quartz - It is used for strength and fortifies nerves, protection, a stone that represents Pride, but also brings calmness which we all know he needs!! The smokiness of it just reminds me of the colour of alcohol or his cigarette smoke

BILLY & STU

Both genuinely curious and love it

They don’t really understand it but they are willing and ready to try

Taking you on nature walks probably wont be as relaxing as they promised; Stu will climb a weird tree and end up hurting himself, then you will find some neat looking mushrooms and they dare each other to eat it

Find it hot but are a little spooked

Billy would hate the smell of sage but Stu doesn’t mind it all

They find it sweet when you try to put protection stones in their pockets when they go to kill

Stu will bring you an average rock from the sidewalk and say hey this is neat, here you go

They are defiantly into trying witchcraft with you

Stu will love your home made teas

Billy will never make a big deal about what you do, he just thinks it is neat and willing to go get whatever you need for your work, and ngl he is more interested in dark magic

They will defiantly interrupt you will you are meditating or doing spell work so always try to do it when they aren’t home

Will ask if you could do tarot readings on them and if you use a crystal ball

The crystal for them is Jade - a good protection and supportive stone, seeks love, passion and nourishment. It is also good for dreams and astral projection

THE LOST BOYS

They are no strangers to the supernatural of course but they don’t know what a witch is beyond what they’ve seen in movies

I feel it would be very 50/50 on caring or not, this stuff isn’t even on their radars

Dwayne, I think would handle it the best. (correct me if I am wrong) He is of Native American descent, so he has heard lots of stories about shamans and he is the most spiritual out of all the boys

Once they see you doing spell work or setting up an alter they are much more interested

If you are already turned, you are arguably one of the most powerful, David will not admit it but he knows it

Marco will 100% bring you random things he likes, not at all related to witchcraft but he thinks it could be, man doesn’t get it

David finds you extremely sexy, him and Dwayne will probably be the only ones that actually get it, and David loves the power

They pretty much just leave you to it

A lot of moon and shadow work will be your main witchcraft with them

If you are cleansing the cave with sage Paul and Marco will make drug jokes and ask to smoke some

ngl I think Paul might be the most scared of you, but he will never show it, He doesn’t understand it and thinks you going to spray him with holy water or make him have nightmares

Dwayne will be the one to take you to the surrounding forests and go on some nature walks with you, collecting what you need

David - black tourmaline: a very powerful protection stone, pure black, great for purification and helping with anger. Star - rose quartz: the stone of love and purity, heals the heart, and dissolves worry and fear turning those feelings into love. Marco - Emerald: a crystal just as blue as his eyes. A stone of hope, encouragement and joy, turns negative energy into strength, love and compassion. Dwayne - fire agate: This stone has a very deep connection the earth radiating calm, stability and strength, also very good for power and protection. Paul - rutilated quartz: a crystal that seeks truth and authenticity, giving strength to the truest souls and uplifts and brings joy.

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venuscribble · 3 years ago

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No open cars, no open bars — Kim Namjoon

A/N: Hello again! Sorry I will do everything but follow the laws of grammar in my writing, I'm working on it... Grammarly hates my guts. Anyways, please do enjoy!

Summary: Joon takes his most favourite person to his most favourite spot in Seoul. He even gains a new friend on the way, too.

Fluff, hints of idol!Joon, gender neutral reader, bullying in a very romantic and charming way

It feels like I’ve lived for this little moment

On the two wheels, everything is just a trivial daydream

“Nearly there!” calls out Namjoon, riding ahead of you with his navy denim jacket billowing slightly behind, spanning out to meet the push of the wind like the wings of a dove. As the same gust pushes itself through your hair and makes waste to the careful styling you had applied to it, you can't help but realise it doesn't treat you half as nice as it does to the man before you. The gentle breeze makes his every movement elegant as he peddles along, head turning side to side to make sure every inch of the scenery around him is taken in. Intently, Namjoon soaks every little detail of his ride up and leaves nothing to be ignored. There’s not a single thing his pensive mind cannot see the beauty in, as his legs continue their steady push of the pedals below him. Nothing is minute, and to Namjoon, everything has its unique charm. It makes perfect sense for Namjoon to demand that the physical embodiment of everything he loves most about biking should accompany him on his next excursion. Despite your feeble argument against it, you knew how much accompanying Joon meant to him, a signal of trust and love which such a small gesture revealed to you. “It’ll be absolutely perfect,” he gushed as you agreed. “My baby and my bike. My two favourite things.”

You’ll do almost anything to see the bright beam of a smile Joon emits when he hears any good news. Even, it seems, deal with the gradual pain in your calves as you carry on peddling your bike along the smooth concrete path. Casting your gaze around, you understand with full clarity why Joon comes here to think - the world around you feels nothing less than idyllic. With the golden light of the sun meeting the greenery on either side of the road which you and your partner now inhabit, it feels like nothing of the cold concrete world you’re used to. Saturated and delicate, the air of perfectness is almost confusing in a sense of unfamiliarity to you. Even the daisies along the path's edge which greet you with a bow as the wind hits them feels closer to a Ghibli movie than your admittedly average life. It feels so unlike bustling Seoul, unlike unforgiving earth, unlike any dimension you could conjure up. This moment between you and Namjoon is so intimate that you conclude the space belongs to both of you and you two only. Only yours and Joon’s reality to feel the sunlight warming your cheeks and to think back on in future days.

“You look so peaceful.” You call out to Joon, hoping your voice carries through the whirring of your wheels and your backpack which audibly jiggles under your peddling. Namjoon smiles to himself, head ducking slightly in bashfulness. Accepting compliments from such a deity as yourself…he knows that will never be his forte. Alas, something his high IQ falters at - the praise of his loved one. He doesn't have a moment to string a reply together when along the path ahead he spots something that has him squeezing his brakes.

“Ah, check it out!” He exclaims happily, dismounting his bike as you brake to find...a traffic mirror? As you settle your own bike out the way to walk to your boyfriend, your head comes to rest on his shoulder from behind, looking up to the circular shape. It gives off an almost fish eye effect, the sky which is gaining an orange hue curving around your interlocked figures. A strong arm moves to hook around your waist, as Joon pulls you into his side. Seizing the opportunity to finally have you close once again, his lips plant a small kiss atop your head.

You give a small puff of a laugh. “Yknow, stopping to look at your reflection is a little vain.”

“Stopping to look at our reflections,” Joon jokes with a soft squeeze to your hip. “Me and my love.”

Your head turns to find where Joon had left his bike - of course, rather half-hazzardly abandoned in the middle of the path.

“You just left your love in the middle of the road.”

Namjoon can only let out a long and disapproving aish at your joke, releasing the hand on your waist only to engulf you in a gentle hug. Your head rests against his chest, finding solace in the familiar deep scent of his cologne. His arms wrap around your frame and rest on your hips, chin resting atop your head as he begins to rock your bodies side to side.

“Stop that.” He whines, rather than scolds. “You know I’d choose you above anything alllll day. Even if it was some kinda super cool mountain bike with an engine built in so I don't have to pedal. I’m still choosing you, okay?”

“Even above a super cool bike with engines?” you pout up at his face. He’s starry-eyed staring down at you, love pouring out of his gaze.

“Even then, and always.”

Content, you allow yourself to settle back into the comfort of his chest. What a sight, you wonder. Two lovers swaying to a melody no one can hear. You hear some chatter in the distance which only becomes a murmur once your senses tune to the soft rise and fall of Joon’s chest. His eyes smile down at you until flicking up to the mirror once more, and the sight of your frame resting upon his as the sunset casts a golden beam over you makes something tug at his heart. "Why me", he puzzles. Why him of all men in this lifetime, granted a gift so precious as yourself. He closes his eyes. His mind spirals into self-reflection. Why should Joon be the sole person granted such a harmonious moment as the one happening in front of his very eyes? What makes him so lucky? He doesn't have too long to analyse what karma he has, as he feels two paws plant themselves above his knee.

“Yeong-Won! We don’t jump at strangers!” ashamedly orders a woman as you turn your head and deduce to be in her mid-30s, whilst she and another older lady pry the golden retriever from hopping up your boyfriend’s leg. Not that Namjoon would care at all. Joon loves animals, and your many days having him give Moni just a few more kisses than you can attest to that.

“Hey, buddy!” coos Joon as he bends to meet the dog’s level. It’s slightly more grown than a puppy yet reaches to kiss Joon’s face with ease as he sinks to greet the boisterous dog. He rakes a hand over its head, running through its golden fur and ruffling his slightly floppy ears. “Nice to meet you, Yeong-wonie. What a handsome boy, eh?”

“He never does this to strangers,” offers the older of the two women to you. “Looks like he needed to say hello!”

You smile in return, shaking your head as Joon and the dog carry on playing as if the world around them has dissolved away. “What a lovely dog, he’s adorable!” You giggle. Joon rises to stand once again, not without ruffling the golden fur one last time.

“So sorry about that, again.” The younger woman adds as her eyes seem to pause on Joon’s face. Not something you're entirely foreign to.

“Wow, I feel like I recognise your face, mister. Dayeon-ah, doesn't the nice man seem familiar?”

The elder, now identified as Dayeon in your mind, furrows her eyebrows together as she thinks. Namjoon all but turns red.

“Ah, my mother tells me I have ‘one of those faces' all the time. It was nice to meet you! See ya, Yeong-wonie!”

After a quick goodbye, you both share an embarrassed laugh together and settle to resume biking once more. The sunset is in full swing now, casting shades of neon pink and blood orange against the cloudless sky like lazy brushstrokes of colour overlapping.

As Joon promised, it only takes a quick 2 minutes of peddling until you rear a corner and the greenery which followed your left side on the path is replaced by the apricot shade of the Han River. The sight makes your stomach stir - it's like nothing you could ever imagine. The setting sun reflects so perfectly, an oil painting brought to life in front of your eyes. You know Joon meets your level of adoration as the wind carries the sound of his small “Wah, so pretty” to you. Joon, your self-proclaimed bike guide during this trip, guides you along the path beside the river further, the atmosphere tranquil with the sounds of birds chirping and your wheels spinning.

“We’re here, babe.” Joon announces, once again dismounting his bike and prompting you to follow, resting your bike beside his. He is, of course, your guide. Your personal guide pauses to stop at a flat square of concrete just aside from the main path, facing the river which grows more and more picturesque by the minute. Your perfect picnic spot, you realise, pulling the backpack off your body and spreading the soft brown blanket kept inside. Joon gives a soft sigh as his body all but collapses down onto the square. The man is uber-fit, almost shockingly buff these days, yet he groans groggily after your short ride.

“Someone tired?” you tease. “Maybe you should be hitting the gym some more than you already are.”

“You're so mean to me. I bring my favourite spot and you make fun of me like this.” Huffs Joon, leaning back with his hands behind him supporting his body. “You’re lucky I love you as much as I do,” he adds with a small laugh.

“I know,” you reply, rapidly. You know you are, you might just be the luckiest person on earth. The one feeling the warmth of Joon’s unconditional love and companionship every single day. You feel like the moon and Joon is the earth itself, only you are blessed to be in his orbit despite the unfathomable size of the universe and countless other people living as you are.

“Hey, you know I'm kidding, babe.” Joon softly argues, hand running through your hair, ruffling it slightly. A blush creeps up to warm your cheeks, nuzzling into the large hand currently entwining it’s fingers into your hair. After a slight pause to collect his thoughts, Namjoon’s voice becomes more gentle as he replies, “Having you...it's like having this one treasure no one else can find. Like, I dunno. Like everything good you’ve done in life is being repaid to you. Does that make any sense?”

“Of course it makes sense, babe.” Your hand pries the one resting on your head to lock your fingers together, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You feel like that to me, too. I promise. You feel like everything good.” You take a quick look around your surroundings. You catch Joon’s eyes locking onto yours, gazing adoringly at you as if some sort of heavenly body had taken form, moulding into you. “You feel like the sunset and the trees... The wind, the flowers, all of it. You feel like nature to me, Joonie. Just tranquil and loving,” you turn to meet his eyes, “always so loving.”

“Ah, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Didn’t think taking you on my ride would make me so…”

“Gross?” you intercut with a smirk.

“Emotional, Y/N. But, this is the most romantic place in Seoul, I suppose. Doesn't help that I'm here with my angel. It’s human nature to be all soppy.”

You shuffle down to rest your head on Joon’s thigh, the extra bulk recently gained there making for an excellent makeshift pillow. He looks down at you with a tender smile which makes your most favourite pair of dimples on earth take form.

“I’m just waiting for someone to pop out that bush and say ‘Hey, got ya! Look at you being all mushy!’” you joke, the laugh it emits from Joon slightly rocking his thigh and your head in return.

“It’d probably be Jin-Hyung. I would go investigate myself if he didn’t have a schedule after we left. Still, not that I think anyone else can be trusted.” He huffs.

“Mm, definitely not.” you agree, nuzzling slightly into his thigh below you.

“I could stay here forever,” Joon begins after a tranquil minute, “just frozen in this moment.”

You want nothing more than for that to happen. For the laws of time to grant you this never-ending memory, to encapsulate it forever and never again worry about the minutes passing you by.

Joon’s lips press another soft kiss upon your head, lingering there for a while, basking in your warmth and the smell of his favourite green apple shampoo you keep using. Above you the sun gives its last fleeting moments of illumination, sinking to be doused in the Han River. He stays there, engulfed in bliss for a short second, nothing worrying him on Earth. That is, until his eyes widen and his head whips from atop yours to rapidly look at your puzzled face.

“How’re we getting home?” He all but exclaims. He’s right, you're both clearly slumped and what little sunlight that is left quickly fades. You think for a second, then, nothing.

“Shit!”

#kim namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon imagine #BTS imagine #bts scenarios #namjoon scenario #you guys notice my dog name pun?#i was proud

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mythicamagic · 4 years ago

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Funeral Flowers: a Sesskag Oneshot

Summary: Sesshoumaru knows what Kagome's favourite flower is- because it just so happens Forget-Me-Nots have been filling his throat for months. Hanahaki Disease fic. Sesskag oneshot.

AN: for @drosselmeyerwrites, who is also a lover of the 'suffering Sesshoumaru' trope. She's been a lovely commenter and wholesome person in the fandom ^^

Warning: body horror elements. This is a Hanahaki Disease fic with a twist on the concept.

Words: 10,000

Rated M

@cookieasylum drew an amazing fanart for this fic so please check this fic out on Ao3!

Funeral Flowers

It started as a mere flutter. Sesshoumaru could feel it at the back of his throat: the beginnings of something that tickled and irritated his windpipe- not enough to cause anything serious, but just noticeable. This sensation only worsened with time.

Kagome looked at him like he'd grown a second head after hearing him stifle a certain noise clumsily behind his fingers.

"Huh," she mused, peering closely at him. "I don't think I've ever heard you cough before."

After a few weeks, he'd begun coughing. A little blemish that he could easily hide behind his hand. Sesshoumaru had wanted no one to notice such a shameful thing. An unwilling action, but required in order to clear his airways.

"Hn," peeling long fingers away from his down-turned mouth, he looked away. Kagome shifted bare legs in the glittering water, lounging on some rocks by a river while half-heartedly sunbathing in a tank top and shorts. Golden eyes slid back to the slim, pale stretch of her smooth, toned leg as she swayed it.

"Kind of a human action, isn't it? Do demons even get colds?" her concern only seemed to increase. "You're not sick, are you?"

"No," he huffed, adjusting himself beside her. They kept a respectable distance. 'Friends' was what she called them. Sesshoumaru tried and failed to tear his gaze away from the parting of her thighs as she stretched languidly. "I do not get sick," he added, "such a thing is beneath me."

Kagome slid both arms behind her head to act as a cushion, laying down. "A few years ago you'd have said sitting beside a priestess ankle-deep in a river would be 'beneath' you. Things change."

Sesshoumaru tilted his chin up to regard her haughtily and gave a dignified snort, adjusting his rolled-up hakama pants. "It is beneath me."

Kagome rose a brow, fluttering one hand carelessly in a shooing motion, "go on then. Leave if it's so offensive," she sighed, trying and failing to hide her smile.

No.

His body flared alive at the thought, unsettled. Sesshoumaru bit back another prickling cough, settling for clearing his throat. "You should be the one to leave. This one was here first."

"Wha- no! I got to the river before you!"

"I was referring to age. Bratty mikos should listen to their elders."

Kagome burst out laughing, sitting up to lightly bat his shoulder. "That makes you sound ancient! You're such a dork. No one else knows how much of an absolute dork you are, do they? It's a crying shame."

Sesshoumaru did not know what a 'dork' was, but he assumed it to be something unflattering. He should've been annoyed by it, aggravated. Kagome's playful, happy scent made this notion impossible.

Thin lips twitched at the edges, dragging his heels through the cool current. He couldn't honestly put into words why exactly he'd shown up, following her scent. Logically, he knew he should leave her alone.

They fell into an amicable silence again, one that had been born from months of time spent together. Odd snatches of coincidental meetings had flourished into something more, and they'd begun seeking one another out for company whenever he visited the village. Sometimes she even paid him a visit the Western Stronghold. Any demons who complained about it were silenced by how… determined the miko was to make friends. A force of nature. It had amused him to no end watching ancients tripping over themselves to try to avoid her bad books.

He could also deeply understand those who had taken an immense liking to her.

Kagome was warm and teasing, a rare thing not wholly unwelcome. Her stories of the future were interesting, personality vibrant but down to earth and occasionally sassy. He enjoyed her more than he should, a quiet, snarky male by nature basking in her effortless glow.

"What's your favourite flower?"

He blinked, "this is a question belonging to Rin. I do not expect such fanciful notions from you."

Kagome huffed and flicked her hand to splash some water over his knee. "I can talk about flowers if I want to. Shinto asked me what mine were, so I got to thinking. I'd like to know what yours are too- or do pretty dog demons baring flower crests not have an opinion on them?"

He sniffed, bringing down one leg to create a splash that soaked her side. Kagome let out a yelp. "The Shiragiku flower. "

"Oh you can't be serious!" She giggled. "When I asked what your favourite colour was, you said 'white' of all things. White! That's the absence of colour!"

"This one is aware. You kept rabbiting on about it," he wiped some imaginary lint off one shoulder.

"But still! And now you tell me you like flowers that are infamously used for funerals," blue eyes rolled skyward, glittering with mirth. "Why am I not surprised, Mr Killing Perfection?"

Thin lips lifted into a sneer free of malice. "Very well, Shikon miko. What is your favoured flower?"

Kagome hummed. "Forget-Me-Nots."

Letting out a noise between a huff and a chuckle, he shot her an exasperated look. "And you give me grief over mine. Did you not say that blue was your favoured colour?"

"Hey, Forget-me-Nots can be pink, white or blue! I'm not as predictable in my tastes as some people."

That was most definitely true, he thought flatly. She had moved on from her first love, a Hanyou- only to bond with a Daiyoukai, and then…

And then…

Kagome stood, stretching both arms above her head. Sesshoumaru knew what she'd say before she even said it, wincing and bringing a hand absentmindedly to the base of his throat. It throbbed. Now the ache even seemed to seep lower.

What is this pain in my chest? He wondered. What is this strange sensation?

"I should go."

Sesshoumaru slid tired attention up to her and nodded silently. He would not wish her well.

"Shinto will wonder where I am," she needlessly elaborated.

"Indeed."

Kagome glanced at him and dropped her arms. "What's wrong?"

He thought to tell her, not for the first time. But it was silenced by everything else that had come before. Their history. Their species. Her lack of discernible interest, her new flame. A heavy weight pressed down upon his chest. His shoulder ached.

"Nothing. I am fine."

Dark brows pulled together. Sesshoumaru stood and nudged her away with a single palm on her back that lingered too long. "Go. I am… merely hungry."

"Oh!" a look of relief swept over her face. Kagome laughed, "okay, I'll leave you in peace. Happy hunting!"

Sesshoumaru felt his chest ache and constrict while his expression remained a blank mask. He covertly winced after she'd jogged away to a trail within the forest that would take her back to Kaede's village. She stopped to wave, and he quickly wiped his expression clean again, rendering it neutral.

Kagome smiled gently, her face full of friendly affection. Sesshoumaru regally inclined his head, eyes burning.

Do not go.

She left him alone, hurrying away to see her new flame in complete ignorance.

Sesshoumaru coughed and massaged the base of his throat as soon as she was gone, frowning.

Feeling something stuck to the roof of his mouth with his tongue, he curiously parted his lips and reached behind a sharp tooth to pluck the soft, small thing out.

Damp from saliva, a tiny, pretty blue petal caught his attention, clutched between forefinger and thumb. Sesshoumaru stared. A sense of creeping foreboding slipped into the back of his mind at the discovery.

This did not bode well.

---

His affliction made visits to the village difficult. It was easier in the beginning when he could hide a few coughs and tickles of the throat. Steadily, however, the discomfort increased. Sesshoumaru needed to pick out petals from his mouth every day, and the number of them only grew with frequency. He had to remove the irritating little things every hour now.

"Lord Sesshoumaru has been picking at his teeth a lot lately," he heard Rin whisper to Jaken, pausing mid-brush. She had been tasked with caring for the old miko's horse. "Is it a toothache?"

"Shh! Don't comment on such a thing so loudly, girl! If Lord Sesshoumaru wants to do some teeth maintenance, then he may do so!" Jaken squawked, frowning up at her.

Sesshoumaru cut golden eyes to the sky and turned away.

"Ah, I didn't mean to insult you, Lord Sesshoumaru!"

"You're STILL drawing attention to it!" Jaken griped.

Pointed ears twitched, blocking out their animated voices and tuning into a set of quick footsteps. Sesshoumaru inhaled, wincing as his lungs protested- the scent of citrus, summer and home comforts reaching him long before Kagome appeared from around the side of a hut. She beamed. His heart ached.

"Hey," she called, trotting over.

"Hello, Kagome!" the little girl waved enthusiastically, wobbling.

Steadying Rin atop her wooden perch as she continued brushing the tall horse, Kagome flashed him a knowing look. "You look tense. Is it from being near the stables?" she teased.

Rin gasped, "does Lord Sesshoumaru not like horses?"

"It's their smell, you nitwit!"

Kagome frowned at Jaken, before searching Sesshoumaru's face for answers. Obviously his silence and demeanour was starting to worry her. Taking a breath, he tried to ignore the petals stuck in the gaps of his teeth. He could feel more building, pooling in the back of his throat like thick mucus.

"They are skittish and afraid of this one. It is better to keep distance."

Predictably, Kagome gentled- but surprised him by easing closer. She seized his hand, tugging- and he was helpless to do anything but follow. Heat touched his cheeks.

Kagome walked backwards, maintaining eye contact like the femme fatale she wasn't, shifting her soft touch to grasp the back of his hand, lacing lithe fingers through his. She then forced the Daiyoukai's palm to rest against a warm neck. The horse shifted slightly, tail flicking, yet it did not startle. With Kagome's prompting, Sesshoumaru glided the flat of his calloused palm down the length of its powerful neck, the thin layer of brown fur tickling his skin.

"Maji isn't like other horses, he's calm around demons. He has to be if Kaede is gonna ride him to fight Youkai," her voice glided through his ear canals like melted honey. Kagome hummed, "though she said because of her age that he might be mine soon. Weird, huh? It's like she's prepping me to be the village miko more and more."

"It is not 'weird,' it is expected," he uttered, thrilled at the prolonged touch. How foolish. The heat of her palm felt exquisite, hand clasped intimately around his. "You will make an acceptable village miko."

Blue eyes flitted up to him, smiling. She gave his hand a squeeze. "Thanks, but… sometimes I wonder if-"

"Ah, so this is where you escaped to."

Sesshoumaru stiffened. Kagome ripped her fingers away- tearing open a gaping hole inside him. He quickly stifled a cough, but it was larger this time, throat clogged. His shoulders shook, sweat dotting his brow.

Kagome was busy being scooped up by Shinto, a large male. He dressed well, for a human, a jagged scar running over one eye. A momento from his mercenary days, he'd called it, though he was now reformed.

Kagome laughed and swatted his shoulder, demanding to be put down. Jaken piped up, yelling about indecency. All the while, Sesshoumaru fought not to let anything show. To not let the agony out. The jealousy. The consuming desire to act upon instinct and take what he ached for.

He couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand seeing the male's burly, meaty hands drag over her hips to settle at the base of her spine. Like they belonged there. Sesshoumaru coughed again, drawing away.

Kagome caught the action, turning to him. "Sesshoumaru?"

He hated the concern swimming in her gaze. It would be so much easier to despise her.

"I have lingered too long," he said quietly, trying to mask the rawness of his voice. "This one should be going."

Kagome nodded slowly, "do you want some honey to soothe your throat? It sounds a little-"

"No," he quietly snapped, starting to walk away. Confusion immediately curdled in her scent, and he regretted the lapse in control. Now she'd worry.

Foolishness.

"Lord Sesshoumaru!" Jaken hurriedly ran after him, following his Lord from the village. "Bah, those humans get more presumptuous every day. I don't blame you for leaving in such a hurry," he muttered, keeping up his tangent long after they'd met the treeline of Inuyasha's forest.

Sesshoumaru unexpectedly stopped, slamming claws into tree bark and causing it to splinter.

Jaken yelped, jumping and dropping his staff. "Mi-mi Lord?" bulbous eyes widened upon seeing him stoop over slightly, silver hair obscuring ashen features.

Sesshoumaru's shoulders shook, dry heaving sounds reaching Jaken's hearing. The retainer gasped, watching him cough, gasp and choke. Thick trails of dewy saliva pooled onto the ground. Rasping noises shuddered out from clenched teeth. Trembling claws reached inside his mouth, feeling something at the back of his throat. Grasping it, Sesshoumaru fought not to gag, coughing while removing the thing and looking at it with stinging eyes.

A Forget-me-not flower sat innocently between forefinger and thumb.

Both demons stared. Phlegm soaked petals rested at Sesshoumaru's feet. Jaken stood gravely silent for a while.

"Mi Lord…" he said thinly. "You have fallen prey to something very old…"

"You will not breathe a word about it to anyone," Sesshoumaru coughed, eyes stinging. He straightened and wiped his mouth, collecting himself. He threw the flower aside.

"But-"

"No one, Jaken," Sesshoumaru hissed, molten golden eyes burning. "Or I'll kill you."

Jaken yelped and quickly bowed several times, promising wholeheartedly not to interfere.

"I-I understand! However, if it's not too much trouble, perhaps you could hear out a suggestion?"

Sesshoumaru sneered and started walking again, his breathing slightly hoarse and rasping now, no longer quiet. His lips pressed together, trying to silence himself. It proved painful, and he quickly breathed through his mouth again.

Jaken tentatively continued; "your affliction is something ancient. I know little about it, but I do remember that it's possible to have it removed before it claims your life."

Sesshoumaru stopped, hands curling into fists. Claws scraped palms.

"That will not do, either," came his soft response.

"W-why ever not, milord?! This matter is potentially deadly to demons!"

Sesshoumaru stared ahead unseeingly. He knew of the affliction too. Had recognised what it was immediately. If he removed the flowering bud from within his chest, wiped away all evidence from her from his body, then he'd lose the very thing that had made him catch the illness in the first place.

His feelings for Kagome Higurashi.

"My reasons are my own," Sesshoumaru coughed behind his hand. "I will not die. Do not fuss over trivial matters, Jaken."

His retainer gaped, hurrying after him. Fierce worry painted his features. The infamous and deadly Hanahaki Curse could fell even the strongest of Daiyoukai.

---

It interfered with eating.

Sesshoumaru thankfully did not need to eat too often, but hunger inevitably gnawed its way into his gut. Transformed, he raced through the forest on all fours in a smaller version of his true form. Low-hanging branches lashed at his face. Forget-me-not flowers lodged in his throat conglomerated into a thick mass. They were practically a ball stuck at the back of his mouth. Sesshoumaru managed to ignore it just enough to track the scent of a deer- only to lose it and find a green pheasant within range.

Barely a snack, but it would do.

With a gurgling snarl, Sesshoumaru sprang at some bushes. Squawking with distress, the bird took flight- only to be caught in his jaws. Bringing sharp teeth down elicited a satisfying crunch. The taste of iron filled his parched mouth. Tilting his head back, Sesshoumaru had every intention of swallowing it whole. He'd done so before. The bird was small enough compared to his form. However, this quickly became impossible.

Red eyes widened. The flowers acted as a barrier, preventing food from travelling down his throat.

Spitting out the bird, Sesshoumaru tore into it. He tried again and again, breaking the kill into smaller pieces. He even tried drinking from the river to wash down the flowers. Nothing worked. No food could pass into his stomach.

With a low crooning noise that hissed out between his teeth, Sesshoumaru padded away from his uneaten kill with an agitated flick of his tail.

---

It affected his sleep next.

At his Stronghold in the Western lands, Sesshoumaru set aside his paperwork and retired to bed. Curling into a nest of furs, he stretched out long legs, sprawling on one side.

Only to feel a dull ache thrum from his ribs.

Wincing and setting a hand over the spot, Sesshoumaru frowned. He was unfamiliar with the sensation, however, Kagome had once whined and complained about 'pulling a muscle.' Perhaps the tight, clamping sensation echoed that pain. Deciding to roll over onto his opposite side- he abruptly burst into a coughing fit. The angle had upset his breathing, lungs protesting.

This vicious cycle continued long into the night. He tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Even laying still made him feel tense and pained. In the end, Sesshoumaru rose from his futon and began running.

Too tired to think, he transformed, relying on instinct to guide him. He whined softly; the ache spreading. He wheezed a little, breathing constrained despite being physically fit.

The inuyoukai sprinted to the outskirts of Kaede's village. Scenting the air, he caught a welcome fragrance on the breeze.

Mate.

Clearing the hillside with a single bound, Sesshoumaru shrank his form even further to that of a regular dog. Sniffing around the outside of a hut, fluffy ears perked. She was not home.

Where?

Following the invisible trail in the air, he padded around the village, passing by unseen by some villagers. Their lack of vigilance disgusted him. What lax security. Stopping at the Monk and Slayer's hut, he listened, hearing a soft humming from within. The sharp tang of blood, vomit, faeces and afterbirth caught his frayed attention.

The Slayer had been pregnant. From the sounds and smells of things, she had given birth and now slept while Kagome remained awake. He could pick up the faint fussing from a young babe.

Sesshoumaru stayed still, listening to the miko gently hum. Slowly, his body weakened, and the inuyoukai lay down outside the hut, resting a weary head atop large paws.

Something stirred from within, the rustle of covers. "Mn... are you alright? Want me to take over?"

"No, I'm fine," Kagome answered in a hushed tone. "He seems completely zonked out, little cutie-pie."

The Slayer paused, "your head. You said it was aching again earlier."

"Heh, Sango! You've just had another baby! Focus on yourself!" her lovely voice tinged with exasperation. "Really, everything is okay. It just hurts from time to time ever since that night with the boar youkai attack. It's no big deal."

"Prolonged headaches and amnesia does not fall under 'no big deal,' Kagome."

Laughing this off breezily, he could hear the shrug in her tone. "I just blank on a few things from the month prior to the attack. I'm sure it wasn't anything important."

Tired lids slid shut, and Sesshoumaru gained some sense of rest while imagining the woman within cradling a newborn pup instead of a gurgling infant. The two women talked some more, lulling him into a false sense of comfort even as his throat thrummed with continuous pain.

---

Breathing was a struggle.

Every inhale became a wheezing, quivering thing. Like crumpled paper that had been smoothed out and squashed too many times. Mucus constantly filled his mouth, senses clogged. His breathing ranged from laboured to a noisy, rasping thing.

He could no longer afford to visit the village. Sesshoumaru took to monitoring Rin from afar whenever he felt the need to check up on her. Needless to say, he avoided Kagome at all costs. The miko was an infamous busy body who would become a nightmare to deal with if she knew of his suffering.

Yes, that was the only reason.

However, on a random day he briefly let his guard down, the unthinkable happened.

Inuyasha found out.

If Sesshoumaru had comprised a list of all the beings he did NOT want to know about his affliction, Inuyasha would be right up there, along with his meddling mother.

Inuyasha stared, watching him with a complicated, horrified look on his gruff features. Shifting, Sesshoumaru stood from where he'd been knelt by a river.

Forget-me-nots floated downstream.

"... What the hell is wrong with you?" were the first words Inuyasha blurted out.

Sesshoumaru wiped his mouth, sneering. "I need not explain myself to you, whelp."

"Keh, if anything warrants a damn explanation, it's barfing up flowers."

He didn't need to hear anymore, turning with the intent to leave. No doubt the fool would talk nonsense, and he had no patience for such things with his current headache. His temples were pounding, throat parched.

"Why don't you just fucking tell her, you coward?"

That certainly caught his attention. Sesshoumaru halted. "What?" he croaked.

"Ya think I'm that ignorant, huh?" Inuyasha rolled his eyes, shoving both hands inside his sleeves. "I know."

"Know what, exactly," silken tones rasped. "You are but an ignorant pup. You were not raised within youkai circles, and so could not possibly understand."

"And whose fault is that?" shaking his head, Inuyasha huffed. "I dunno what crap you're yappin' on about, anyway. I'm talkin' about your secret relationship with Kagome that you had a couple of months ago."

Stiffening, Sesshoumaru felt his bones lock and throat inflame. He swallowed, wincing slightly. He flashed his teeth, "whatever you think you know, it is incorrect. A baseless assumption."

"Bullshit!"

Continuing to walk with every intention of escaping the pending conversation, he stopped dead the second Inuyasha opened his mouth; "I could smell you on her! But that all changed the second she hit her head. Did she forget you or something? You were happy to just abandon her after she stopped being useful for a good time?"

A deafening snarl upset his aching throat, ripping something inside. Blurring through the air impossibly fast, Sesshoumaru snatched up his sibling's throat and slammed him into a tree, causing the trunk to shudder.

"Silence," a blood-curdling rasp hissed out from clenched teeth like boiling steam. Crimson eyes glowed, claws itching to bury into the nuisance's windpipe.

Even while choking, Inuyasha managed to bark out a laugh, grasping a striped wrist. "You really do like her, huh? Never thought I'd see the day, bastard." White ears pulled back flat against his skull. "What's the deal? Just open your mouth and tell Kagome. Then I don't have to smell your pining ass all over the forest while you stalk her."

Burning embers were snuffed out. Sesshoumaru coughed, lifting a hand to his mouth. His shoulder thrummed, aching. "I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"She does not remember," releasing him, the Daiyoukai stepped back. "The miko fell quite quickly for the male who rescued her that night. The fault lies with me that she sustained injury. If she is content with another, I cannot force her gaze to me."

It wasn't as though he hadn't tried. However, Kagome seemed happy with their relationship as friends. Guilt, stung pride and other such ugly emotions were all tied up with the incident.

Inuyasha blinked with disbelief, sizing him up. "When the fuck did you get so noble?" Sesshoumaru sneered, glancing away as his brother continued. "And anyway, what does that have to do with you coughing up flowers?"

Since he'd revealed more than intended as it was, Sesshoumaru felt no inclination to divulge extra information. He turned and this time; resolved not to stop walking. "Drop the subject, whelp."

"Maybe I'll tell Kagome about it."

Sesshoumaru did not falter, knowing the fool's game by now. "Do as you please," he dismissed in a wheezing, thin voice, stepping under the cool shade of weeping willow trees and leaving him behind.

---

He did not intend to revisit their old rendezvous point. Sesshoumaru had wanted to put it behind him, to let everything that had happened within the cave fade into obscurity.

The second he stepped foot within the mossy mouth of its opening, however, Kagome's lingering scent fanned over a striped cheek like a breathy exhale.

Long white lashes slid half shut. Hooded golden eyes became hazed. The memory of her salty, sweet taste wrapping around his tongue flooded his senses. Claws twitched, recalling the phantom sensation of full breasts falling into his palms as her back arched exquisitely. Her eyes had darkened into a lush, deep blue.

She'd been memorable, to say the least.

Walking further in, so that he stood fully submerged in their love-nest, Sesshoumaru basked in the illicit scents and breathy whispers he could remember caressing his hearing. It hadn't just been about sex. It never was with her.

Kagome had held his demonic hand without fear and stroked his cheek, murmuring ardently or giggling quietly. She told him things he hadn't thought he'd wanted to know before.

'You're nothing like your father' she'd said easily but with a conviction that made the ageless demon believe her. The notion should've been insulting. His sire had been unbeatable in strength, so of course he should wish to be like him.

Yet Sesshoumaru had never appreciated such compliments. He wished to be unique, bold, powerful, walking an entirely different path. Her words had been strangely welcome.

"And yet here I stand, Father," Sesshoumaru uttered to himself. In love with a mortal. Dying, because of a human woman of all things.

Just like you.

"Sesshoumaru?"

Golden eyes snapped wide open. A wave of elation, dread, guilt and longing washed over him. Every fibre of his being flared to life, muscles stiffening, heart racing. His lungs constricted.

Sesshoumaru swallowed a rasping breath, shifting to face the priestess.

Kagome crept closer, glancing around the cave curiously. "Was just in the forest to collect some things. I thought I sensed you close by. Looks like I was right. What are you doing in here?"

"Nothing," he said softly. His voice sounded fragile these days.

He could tell she was confused, radiating hurt. He hadn't visited in so long. No doubt she'd wondered why. The flowers buried within his windpipe felt heavier in her presence. He cleared his throat.

"Oh," Kagome scuffed a sandal over the dirt-covered floor. "Well... I'm glad I caught you-" she offered a tentative smile. "I've missed talking with you."

Sesshoumaru's insides screamed at him. The marks on his shoulder felt like blistering iron tongues being thrust into his flesh they wailed so loud.

Mate.

"I dunno what's kept you away," Kagome continued talking, making her way out of the cave. He followed, "but you haven't missed much. Rin is progressing nicely with her riding though. I'm not too shabby with that thin sword you gave me either, though Shinto says I need more practice."

That very sent icy needles piercing his skin. Stepping foot outside, Sesshoumaru couldn't stop the abrupt bite in his tone; "why are you here, miko?"

Kagome blinked and glanced at him over one shoulder. She then threaded her fingers behind her back, attention sliding away, voice unreadable.

"Shinto proposed to me."

Sesshoumaru stopped. A profound sense of loss rendered him breathless. He anticipated a coughing fit. Wheezing. Pain. But there was nothing, just him and Kagome standing alone in the silent woods. But she'd be beyond his reach for good soon.

He'd tried. He'd tried hard to forget, as she had. To push all the feelings and words right down from his throat into his chest. Maybe that was how the curse had started.

But he'd have kept the curse for good if it meant lingering in the 'almost' fantasy of them.

Now that illusion would shatter.

The very idea of her belonging to another felt like a wound somewhere inside him that he couldn't locate. The sensation of teeth on his shoulder thrummed, and he coughed, snuffing out the sound behind his hand.

"I didn't really know what to say," Kagome was muttering. "A part of me feels like it's too soon. I wanted to talk to you about it-"

"This one is needed elsewhere," he said in a clipped tone, turning on his heel.

He couldn't be her confidant anymore. Not about this.

"What?"

He began walking, trying to put distance between them. He should've known it wouldn't work as Kagome quickly caught up and planted herself firmly in his way, halting the demon.

"Okay, what is going on with you?" she demanded. "Is it the cough? Are you in so much pain that you can't talk to me?"

Sesshoumaru flashed his teeth in a faint sneer, throat protesting at the extended use of his vocal cords. "is it so unthinkable that for once, I may not have time for you, miko?"

"Yes," Kagome planted both hands on her hips. "Because this isn't an isolated thing. I've hardly seen you all month! And besides that, you're my friend, Sesshoumaru. Friends tell each other things. Remember how you talked about the court and how obnoxious General Kito was to deal with? Things like that. I need to talk to you about this- and clearly, you need to talk to someone about whatever's going on with you. I'm worried about you!"

His heart clenched, and Sesshoumaru bit back a hiss at the stab of pain it caused. Thin breathing rasped and rattled. He raised a hand, urging her aside via a gentle grasp on her shoulder to continue walking.

Kagome's grip was not so gentle as she latched onto his arm.

Frustration abruptly burst in his chest and Sesshoumaru snarled, whirling with the intent of spilling everything to her. Ruin their friendship. Burn everything they'd built and admit his failure to protect her-

-only to cough up a mouthful of blood onto her collarbone.

Kagome yelped in surprise, eyes wide. Touching the wet substance dazedly, horror paled her complexion. She looked up at him with palpable fear.

"S-Sesshoumaru?"

Humiliation stung white-hot and burning into his body. The visceral, blinding sensation of being exposed- of being seen- felt like too much. Too raw. As a demon unused to such things, his first instinct was to remove himself from the situation.

Sesshoumaru blurred away from her outstretched hands, putting the length of the clearing between them.

Kagome called his name again with alarm, asking him to wait, but he would not heed her call.

Taking to the skies, he flew fast and erratically, a wobbly figure. Coughing hard and feeling blood clog up his windpipe like mud, Sesshoumaru had no choice but to land not long after.

Within an overcast clearing upriver from Kagome, he steadied himself against a gnarled tree.

"Hah- hah-" he wheezed, doubling over and squeezing stinging eyes shut.

Something suddenly constricted tight around his lungs, around his very ribcage. Bones protested and ached. He gasped for breath, blood leaking from his open mouth to pool on the floor. Forget-me-nots mingled with it, petals stained red.

Jolting and snapping upright, Sesshoumaru arched his back, throwing back his head. A cry escaped him unlike any other. Loud, agonised and roaring in its ferocity tinged with pain.

Stems shot out from within his ribcage, tearing his chest asunder.

---

Her friends made noises of alarm at the sight of Kagome's bloodied clothes, but the miko ignored Sango and Miroku's questions, bypassing them in favour of finding and grabbing Jaken by the scruff of his robes.

"You're going to tell me in 10 words or less what the hell is going on with your lord," she demanded.

Jaken yelped and squinted, hanging from her hold. "Haven't the faintest idea of what you could be alluding to!" he sniffed.

Kagome snarled and bared her teeth, lifting him closer with a menacing expression and gesturing to the red substance marring her priestess robes. "This is HIS blood. He looked awful. Like- like he was dying, Jaken," her voice broke. "Please. I need to know what's happening. He won't tell me what's wrong and I'm scared."

Yellow eyes rounded wider, swallowing the imp's face. He appeared conflicted.

"Kagome!"

Releasing Jaken, Kagome shifted her attention to Inuyasha, who leapt towards her with alarm pinching his gruff features.

Dread dropped low in her stomach. That was never a good sign.

Distant snapping noises like wood being felled reached her ears. From behind the approaching Hanyou within the forest, large vines could be seen shifting and slithering over a portion of the trees.

"What is it?" Miroku gaped. "I sense a demonic aura, but it's distorted."

Kagome shuddered, feeling strange. She recognised that energy. Identified it as easy as breathing.

"Maybe a forest spirit has been disturbed?" Sango guessed, clutching her son a little more protectively.

"It ain't that," Inuyasha dropped from his jump, landing before them. He panted, white hair windswept. Of all people, his gaze landed upon the miko first. "It's Sesshoumaru."

----

Their way became blocked by a thick mass of vines crisscrossing through the forest. It created a wall, preventing any from entering.

"Lord Sesshoumaru must be further in," Miroku observed, leaning to inspect the leaves. "Beyond this 'barrier' I suppose you could call it."

"I wonder what could have happened," Kagome murmured, brows pulling together. "Sesshoumaru doesn't even have nature powers."

"Why on earth did you bring ME along for this?" a high pitched, nasally voice reached their ears. Sango and Inuyasha readily ignored it, while Kagome frowned down at the imp she held by the scruff of his robes.

"Because you're clearly hiding something, and until you come clean, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

His mouth thinned into a stubborn line, glancing away.

Kagome turned her attention back to the vines. Worry took root in her stomach. The memory of the Daiyoukai spitting up blood remained fresh in her mind, evidence of it staining her clothing and plastering it against her skin.

Handing Miroku their son, Sango went first. She swung Hiraikotsu with a seemingly effortless toss- the bone boomerang spiralling, cleaving trees in half but bouncing straight off the vine wall. It didn't so much as leave a dent.

Not wasting another moment, Inuyasha unsheathed Tetsusaiga. Everyone immediately gave him a wide berth, watching as he shook the sword out into a monstrous blade. He swung it back over one shoulder, feet planted far apart- delivering a swift blow downwards with a loud cry.

A burst of power shot out, heading straight for the vines. They made contact, and for a moment Kagome thought the consuming golden light might break through, only for it to fizzle out. The insurmountable wall remained intact.

Inuyasha tried again and again, using different techniques. None of them worked.

Nocking an arrow in her bow, Kagome took aim. Pale pink reiki split forth, coating the arrow while glowing ever more blinding until she set it free.

She held out hope as it shot through the vines, managing to burst through the dense foliage- which repaired itself almost immediately, covering up the hole.

"Nothing appears to be working," Miroku muttered, turning his friends. "Perhaps we should seek advice elsewhere first before trying to continue."

Her friend's voices faded into background noise as Kagome approached the vines. Frowning slightly, she stretched out her senses, using her aura to touch and brush against the barrier. It felt like him.

If that were the case, the wall was of Sesshoumaru's own making, whether he'd consciously chosen to hide away or not. Perhaps they were going about things the wrong way.

Thinking back to Maji and how carefully they'd run their linked hands down his neck, she raised a palm. Gradually easing closer, Kagome set it down gently onto the vines, stroking downwards.

Hearing outcries of alarm as the greenery parted, only for swirling stems to curl about her shoulders- Kagome quickly grabbed Jaken.

"It's okay, guys. Just find a way to follow me in later," she met their startled gazes. "I feel like I need to reach him quickly."

"Kagome, wait!"

Ignoring their protests, Kagome lept into the fray. She welcomed the green vines that wrapped around her, enclosing the miko and wailing kappa securely behind its wall.

---

Mercifully the winding tendrils of vines that moved as though infused with a will of their own allowed her freedom of movement. Kagome climbed through their moving, twisting stems, occasionally losing her footing and having to grasp hold of some.

"Again, I ask; WHY ARE YOU BRINGING ME ALONG WITH YOU?!" Jaken shrieked, clinging to her back and looking around fretfully.

"You know the answer to that. Tell me what you know about Sesshoumaru's situation and I'll let you go," Kagome hummed, shielding her eyes and looking up at sprawling branches above where sunlight streamed through. Maybe she could punt him over the treetops.

"I have sworn not to break my vow of silence on the matter!"

Grinding her teeth, Kagome stopped and reached over her shoulder, tearing him from her back to frown at him. "If your silence ends up hurting him, is it even worth it? Which means more to you; Sesshoumaru's trust or his life?"

Jaken clamped up, thinking about this for a moment. His eyes abruptly filled with tears, "fine! But you had best save me from his wrath once this is over."

Kagome grinned and patted him on the head, continuing to walk. "I promise."

He huffed, "Lord Sesshoumaru is suffering from a curse."

Blue eyes widened, and Kagome set Jaken over her shoulder like she would Shippo. He did not appreciate the gesture as the kit would while she minded swirling vines aside from their path and ducked through. "What kind of curse?"

"How much do you know about youkai mates, foolish mortal?"

At that, she tilted her head, noticing a blue flowering bud among the vines and gently touching it in passing. "Very little. I know they're like married couples. They, uh... make love and bite each other instead of having a wedding ceremony and stuff. That about sum it up?"

"Insolent girl!" Jaken griped, noticing the bud she touched opening up into a flower behind them. "It is far more than that! Their energies synchronise, aura's linking. However, it's quite imperative they both bite one another."

"Or else the mating is incomplete? What's so bad about that?"

"The partner that was bitten will consider them mated and suffer a one-sided attachment. This isn't so terrible if they have the bite mark healed and lose their troublesome feelings towards their mate," he continued with a self-important air. Kagome didn't mind it if it meant getting answers. "But... if they choose to linger in longing and are prevented from completing the mating, then their energies become distorted! Their youki takes on a life of its own as flowers."

"That's what these vines are," Kagome mused. She shifted, a strange, unsettled feeling churning in her gut. "You're implying someone bit Sesshoumaru? He'd never allow someone to do that if he didn't want it- let alone not reciprocate. Besides, if he could remove it, he'd have surely done so."

"I agree this situation is unprecedented! Unthinkable! Besides that, ANY partner resisting Lord Sesshoumaru's advances is unworthy of being his mate! AH-!"

Kagome jolted, feeling a weight lift from her back. Glancing over her shoulder, she gaped and strained to reach Jaken. Vines had wrapped tight around his mid-section, lifting him away.

"Hang on!" she shimmied her bow off her arm, quickly taking aim. Releasing the arrow, she watched as it hit the mark, sailing through a vine and breaking it in two. Jaken yelped, falling, only to be caught by another vine that continued dragging him back the way they'd come.

"J-just leave me!" he wailed. "Go save Lord Sesshoumaru!"

Kagome blinked, strangely touched. Nodding with conviction, she turned and hurriedly continued to make her way through the dense foliage.

---

Her breath caught the second she caught sight of the flowers.

Forget-me-nots littered the area, becoming more frequent the further in she ventured. Soon she practically waded through a sea of blue petals. They hugged trees, peppering logs, the ground beneath her feet, even climbing above to hang from branches. The vast mass of familiar flowers eventually opened out into a huge clearing packed full of them.

And there, at the centre of it all, Kagome finally saw him.

Vines had burst his chest open, putting quivering lungs on full display. To her horror, she witnessed them expanding and deflating with each struggling, wheezing breath. His ribcage had been repurposed for a vase of flowers. Vibrant blue forget-me-nots poked out between his ribs, green stems tightly wrapped around his bones, constricting.

Sesshoumaru's body lay tilted back, face turned upwards to the sky. Glassy eyes were vacant, blood caking his chin. His armour and hankimono lay shattered and torn on the ground. Around him, the stems that had spilt forth from his gut propped up his lifeless form, clearly part of the mass of greenery that had hindered her approach. Kagome covered her mouth, hand shaking. Tears pricked her eyes. Blue veins visibly spread over his flesh, causing her to wonder if the stems had buried beneath his very skin.

This was not Sesshoumaru. It couldn't be.

Choking on nothing, Kagome hurried closer with a thin noise. Reaching his motionless form, her hands hovered uselessly over his decimated chest. She didn't know where to start. How could she even help him?

"Who did this to you?" her voice wobbled. Stinging eyes misted over, running over his body. He looked like a corpse that had been picked clean by crows. His moving lungs moving were the only indication he was even alive.

"Sesshoumaru- I don't know if you can hear me," Kagome tried, reaching out and touching his cheek. It shocked her skin, icy to the touch. "But please- let go of the person who caused this," she said, locating what she assumed was the mating mark upon his shoulder. "No one is worth dying over. You could start over with your mate. Ask them out- anything!" she shuddered, looking at the flowers poking out from his ribs.

"Just don't die! This isn't like you!" Kagome snapped, tears rolling hotly down her cheeks to slide free from her chin. "Fight this! Keep living. T-there's still so much I want to talk to you about."

The tears landed upon pretty blue petals.

Leaning against him slightly, Kagome sobbed. She wondered if she could just reach out and rip the awful things free from inside his chest.

Why Forget-me-nots, anyway? Why not another flower-

The mating mark halted her hand, fingers brushing the stems. It didn't look like an animal bite, nor did it belong to a demon.

Kagome's eyes slowly widened. She had a distinct tooth at the back of her mouth.

The tooth marks looked like a perfect mould of her teeth.

"Was it...me?" she breathed, glancing up at Sesshoumaru's features dazedly. "Those blank spots in my memory. Was I... with you?"

The puzzle pieces slotted into place perfectly. Kagome stared, feeling like a fool for having not noticed. She'd just thought, assumed- he would never look at her like that.

But if the miko cast her memory back and pictured Sesshoumaru's lovely features, his honeyed gaze resting upon her face, half-lidded, lips quirked, face soft and drinking her in- maybe he had been looking at her 'like that' the whole time.

Kagome shook her head, feeling frantic. She latched onto his shoulders.

"I-I'm so sorry. I'm sorry! I never meant for this to happen. Why didn't you bite me? Why didn't you TELL me, you stupid demon!" she snapped, cheeks reddening as a fresh wave of tears stung her eyes. "All that time we spent together goofing off and talking- and you were suffering in silence? You're so stupid, Sesshoumaru!"

His anguished face did not stir. Kagome mindlessly wiped away the dried blood from his chin with shaky fingers.

"There's no taking this back now," she said quietly, glancing at the bite mark. "So... I guess there's only one thing for it."

It sounded terrible, but Shinto was far from her mind as she lay a hand over her mating mark and began concentrating. When resolving to save someone, Kagome became bullheaded. Sesshoumaru was all she could see as her aura rose out from her body, seeping into his bloodstream via the bite marks.

"You need to wake up," she mumbled, using her free hand to adjust the parting of her white kosode. Sliding it off one shoulder to bare her flesh, Kagome remained heedless of the vines growing and curling around them. They seeped into her ebony hair, twining into the long locks like a lover's hands.

Kagome straddled the Daiyoukai, shuddering a little at being so close to his bare bones. She couldn't have sex with him, obviously, but she suspected it wasn't truly needed to complete the bond. Feeding her energy into his body, she bit her bottom lip. Sweat beaded on her brow.

She began to mumble and pray under her breath.

When her spiritual energy had spread through most his system, Kagome grit her teeth and hoped he'd forgive her. Laying one hand atop his rib-cage directly over his heart, she raised her voice.

"Wake up!"

A pulse of reiki shot out through her palm.

Sesshoumaru jerked beneath her. A ghastly, chocking noise escaped him. His head lolled to the side as he looked at her unseeingly, a trickle of blood welling from the corner of his pale mouth. Kagome quickly wrapped an arm around him, guiding his head to her shoulder.

"Bite down, Sesshoumaru," Kagome whispered fiercely into his ear.

Sharp canines brushed her skin, causing a shiver. Wet flecks of blood accompanied it as he coughed. Whimpering with desperation, the miko curled trembling fingers into silver hair. She pressed a kiss against his cheek.

"Please- I want this." She'd do anything to save him. Besides that, a small, buried part of her felt strangely at peace with the action and its meaning. "Bite down!"

A blood-curdling snarl vibrated out from his open chest. Fangs sank deep into her shoulder. At once, dark, dominating youki burst through her system like a shot of adrenaline. Kagome gasped, back arching. It turned her heart into a burning star. Sesshoumaru's presence filled her until she practically burst at the seams. She distantly understood why youkai had sex before biting each other, reeling from it. The orgasm probably softened the intensity. Completion was something the mind could fathom, a release, the pooling of cum inside her.

This felt overwhelming. He was everywhere. His energy burned and licked, igniting and soothing her body like burning whisky.

Kagome felt the pinpricks of fresh tears in her eyes, overcome with a hurricane of emotions she couldn't quite name. She could feel his weakness. His exhaustion. The part of him tethered to her became a lifeline between them, feeding him the energy he'd lost.

Sesshoumaru's mouth peeled back from her flesh. He panted, sinking back. Kagome caught him about the shoulders, cradling him close.

A wave of tiredness sent her sinking down against him, lashes falling shut as dizziness spun her vision.

The last thing she saw before surrendering to the lure of unconsciousness was a canopy of Forget-me-nots surrounding their weary bodies.

----

Drowsy lids slowly cracked open- wincing at the setting sun's harsh orange light peeking out from between the trees. Golden eyes averted and Sesshoumaru stirred with a dusty rumble.

Something heavy lay over his bare chest. He lifted his head.

Kagome rested against his shoulder, dark hair spilling everywhere. Sesshoumaru stared, feeling he must be dreaming. They were laying within a clearing together, which looked clear, quiet and picturesque.

Squinting, he sat up, adjusting the woman against him. Kagome sank against his side, revealing a gaping hole in his flesh, exposing his rib-cage.

Ah, that's right.

The flowers. The vines spilling forth from his chest as blood asphyxiated him, making breathing impossible.

And Kagome...

The miko had come for him. Saved him.

Sesshoumaru ghosted stiff fingers over his mouth, dragging clawed nails down to the fresh bite mark branding his shoulder. He then shifted Kagome, running an aristocratic nose to similar marks adorning her shoulder- a tongue sliding out to drag over bloodied flesh. She tasted wonderful.

Kagome groaned and wrapped her arms around him tighter, burying her face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Sesshoumaru held her close and revelled in the sensation. However, he soon picked up on the far off shimmer of his barrier enclosing them within their mini safe space. He could sense Inuyasha waiting outside, along with Jaken.

Deciding to lower it, Sesshoumaru rested his lips against the crown of Kagome's head before drawing himself up to stand unsteadily, lifting her into his arms.

When Inuyasha burst into the clearing, leaves scattering and clinging to his thick white hair, he brandished Tetsusaiga, only to lower it with a raised brow.

Sesshoumaru stood clad in his hakama pants, arching a regal brow in return. He approached the hanyou and passed Kagome over wordlessly, ignoring his noise of surprise at the sight of his ribcage.

"It is healing," the demon dismissed.

"Uh, alright," Inuyasha grunted, supporting Kagome. "Should I even ask what the hell happened?"

Sesshoumaru ignored him in favour of looking at the miko. His shoulder ached, and when he drew back his heel with the intention to leave- a fresh wave of discomfort elicited a wince.

Kagome stirred, blue eyes blinking open. She then drew a hand out towards him, "where are you going?"

"This one is..." he trailed off. "I must..."

"No, you don't," she murmured. Patting Inuyasha's shoulder to prompt him to set her down, Kagome flashed her friend a smile. "Thanks for coming for me, but I need to stay with this impossible guy to make sure he heals alright."

Inuyasha eyed the bite mark on her shoulder, nostrils flaring. "You sure?"

Kagome nodded firmly.

"What do ya want me to tell Shinto if he asks where ya are?"

Guilt passed over her face, and blue eyes flicked away, before finding him again. "Just say I'm visiting another village. I need to tell him the truth myself."

Relenting, Inuyasha stepped away, shooting Sesshoumaru a warning look before reluctantly leaving them be again, feeling like the wind had been thoroughly knocked out of his sails.

The Daiyoukai watched her, stunned.

"It's crazy you're even up and walking around in your condition," Kagome rubbed at her forehead, reaching out and seizing frozen fingers. "Come on, let's find a cave to take shelter in for the night."

----

The demon lord stopped and slid unrelenting attention down to her once they reached the mouth of a cave. "What made you choose this place?"

"I dunno, it wasn't far away and it felt familiar," Kagome hummed, meeting his gaze. "Have we... used it before? In the past?"

Golden eyes cracked wider. "You remember?" he asked in a quiet, brittle tone.

She shook her head, "not at all. I just figured it out. Would've been nice if you'd told me," releasing his hand, she wandered inside, finding a bed of furs awaiting them further in, cracks of sunlight streaming in through holes in the rock ceiling. Her cheeks reddened a little, imagination running wild.

"You really scared me back there," she murmured, back turned to him. "I thought you were going to die."

"That is why you completed the mating," Sesshoumaru uttered. To save him, and for no other reason.

A part of him had hoped she'd remembered, but another had immediately recognised the sacrifice she'd made. Kagome was a selfless individual in the face of danger. If Inuyasha were dying, or any of her other friends, he wondered if she'd mate them if it meant saving their lives.

With a benevolence he did not truly feel, Sesshoumaru forced himself to prioritise her comfort. "If this is not something you wish for- there are ways of severing the bond."

"Stop," she grit out, whirling to face him. Flinty blue eyes took his breath away. "Stop lying all the time. I remember valuing your company and opinion because you were always so blunt with me. You never held back your opinions."

"I am not lying, there is a way to sever it."

"But that's not what you want! Damn it- you nearly died because you couldn't open your mouth! Just be honest for once and tell me how you're feeling, Sesshoumaru. What do YOU want?"

Energy lashed at the air, kicking up a breeze that caused dark hair to fly back. Hands closed over the back of her neck, cradling her skull. Lips were shoved against hers, smothering startled breath.

"You," Sesshoumaru breathed in a brief parting, kissing her fiercely again. His mouth slanted ardently over hers, the hint of a fang brushing her lips. "Is it not obvious I cannot abide anything but having you? Foolish woman, it is for your sake I held back. Once you submit, there is no escaping me."

Kagome gaped, unable to keep up with the sheer amount of heated kisses. Her hands settled over his arms, heat igniting her cheeks. She'd never received a kiss like it before and tentatively returned it. A small gasp and accompanying noise from him only confirmed to her how much he wanted it. She could feel the tension in his frame. He was holding back even now.

When he pulled away, she panted, thumb dragging over magenta cheek stripes. "Didn't that feel so much better than burying everything?" she teased weakly. "Even if I'd rejected you, surely that would've been better than regret- than nearly dying."

Sesshoumaru's gaze slid away. He then released a long sigh, clawed hands curling in her hair. "You seemed happy with the mercenary."

"Ex-mercenary," she corrected out of habit, leaning into his touch. "And I was. I like him. But..." Kagome looked at him. Really looked, and somehow it clicked that his face was the only one she wanted to wake up to in the mornings to follow. When had things gotten to that point? Had she wanted this while lazing on the riverbank with him so long ago? Things would've been so much more simple if she'd identified it sooner. If he'd said something.

How foolish they both were.

Stepping closer, she blushed and tilting her head back in order to ghost her lips over a firm jaw. "I like you more."

Power sparked her insides at the ensuing shudder he gave. "Mating entails more than 'liking' one another, miko. Can you deal with my extended company? Being mine?"

Kagome pretended to consider this. "For how long?"

His lips quirked. "Centuries. Possibly thousands of years."

"That's a long time," her eyes danced. "I guess I'm okay with that if you work on your communication skills."

He inclined his head gravely, dipping his nose into her hair and inhaling a lungful. It felt so good to have clear airways again.

"Sesshoumaru, there is something I want to ask you about; Why didn't you bite me? And what happened during that night I lost my memories?"

"I intended to, miko," he said with dark promise. Displeasure curled his lip. "You managed to bite me during climax. I do not think you understood the ramifications of it at the time. I would have reciprocated nonetheless. Unfortunately, my senses- brilliant as they are- sensed a disturbance in the forest. A herd of boar youkai were bolting towards your precious village."

He could scowl all he wanted about it, but Kagome knew of his attachment to Rin. No doubt they'd both wasted no further time in lovemaking and quickly made for the village.

"We fought them, tried to redirect them. You asked me to save a boy that had fallen during the village's impromptu evacuation. Naturally, I did so- but it meant leaving you alone."

Kagome winced. Her hand found the back of her head, remembering waking to a sizable bump and stitches. "They got me, huh?"

"One struck you down," Sesshoumaru uttered with a weary tone. "I did not know where you were, as we had become separated in the chaos. When I eventually found you... the mercenary was nursing your wounds."

"I remember," she said gently. A stab of sympathy clenched her heart. Stroking a hand down his bicep, she sighed. "That must've been awful, to lose me so soon after almost completing the mating. I didn't realise, didn't recall our relationship. I greeted you so casually and didn't get why you were lingering around in his hut."

"The fault is not yours," Sesshoumaru rested large hands possessively on her hips.

Kagome glanced at him, squinting. "Neither is it yours," she pressed her fingers to his lips when he opened his mouth. "Nope! Not yours. I wouldn't have wanted you to prioritise guarding me that night. If you had, that boy you saved might've lost his life. Besides, I can usually take care of myself. They caught me on a bad day."

The two fell into silence. Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, resting thin lips against the crown of her head while Kagome leaned carefully against him.

"I find it weird that we've had a whole conversation while you have a massive hole in your chest. At least I can't see your whole ribcage like before. Seems like the skin and muscle are repairing," she mumbled.

"It will heal quickly," he dismissed, palms gliding over her back.

Kagome made a soft noise, basking in his warmth. "It's also weird that this feels so natural to me," she lifted her head, catching his eye. "I might not remember us. Ever. So just... promise me you won't search for my past self in me. I've been through that before."

He swept her down into the furs, covering her form with his own. "Hn, we will live in the present."

Heat flushed her cheeks as she sank into the soft, comforting furs. Her heart fluttered, stomach jumping. "Thank you."

A silver curtain of hair blocked out their surroundings as Kagome pulled him closer, both mindful of his injury. She smiled, searching his gaze and slowly delivering a sweet kiss to his lips.

Sesshoumaru let out a long sigh of relief, their foreheads meeting.

"Hey, on the bright side..." Kagome gave him a cheeky grin. "I get to experience my 'first time' with you again."

Astonishment painted his features. A simmering, darkly satisfied look soon replaced it, transforming his face into something more raw and honest. Kagome accepted his anticipation, his hunger, not dissuading him from it. She endeavoured to encourage even more displays of emotion from him.

"You don't need to hold back," she murmured, accepting his searing kiss. "Tell me everything you've wanted to say to me since losing my memory. I don't mind."

Their energies twined once more, and the miko hooked her leg over his hip to anchor him against her without any seductive intentions. She merely wanted him close, and Sesshoumaru did not argue, burying closer to her the second he healed. Skin met skin, noses brushing.

In the hush that followed, Sesshoumaru took his lips to her ear and began talking.

End

#Sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskag fanfiction #Inuyasha #Kagome Higurashi #Sesshoumaru

147 notes · View notes

seokmingiggles · 4 years ago

Text

transmarinus.

(from beyond the sea)

Prompt: "I like the way your hand fits in mine."

Pairing: Lee Seokmin x female reader

Genre: fluff, slight angst, slow burn, mermaid!au, kinda magical overall(?), probably set in the same universe as Ponyo.

6.03k words

Warnings: some alcohol consumption (everyone is of legal age), swearing, the reader has a phobia of the ocean, allusions to drowning (nothing explicitly mentioned).

Beyond the sea, within the sea—both are places you have no desire to explore. You have lived nearly your whole life with an intense fear of the ocean, yet something about it keeps haunting you.

Alternatively, in which you are afraid of the ocean, yet Seokmin shows you that you no longer have to live in fear.

A/N: I don't have much to say about this little passion project; perhaps that Seokmin is one of my main bias wreckers in Seventeen. In my notes prior to determining a pairing for this fic, I had written: "All three have this kind of magical wonder to them that I want to capture," about my possible choices of a protagonist (you’ll find out the other two contenders later on). I hope I have captured this feeling. Furthermore, there are some loose ends for a possible part two if I feel the desire to continue this au. Enjoy!

The lyrics (bolded) are from Somewhere Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin.

•• Somewhere beyond the sea,

You've never liked the ocean: the seemingly endless dark depths and rushing currents that could pull you below. No, rephrasing your thoughts—you are afraid of the ocean. Sure, it can be pretty to look at on a calm and sunny summer day, and sure, the sea breeze admittedly feels pleasant brushing through your hair and clothes on occasion, but you refuse to give in to its temptation, to even go near it if you can help it.

Somewhere waiting for me,

It can be lonely sometimes, being the only one of your classmates growing up who refused to go swimming on field trips to the beach nearing the end of the semester. You often found yourself alone and listening to the fun they would be having in the shallow tides: a shimmering, azure blue. You learned to bring things to accompany you when your friends would prefer to enjoy their time swimming. A book and a beach towel resting on the silky sands was often your set-up. Not much has changed since then.

My lover stands on golden sands,

You've become better over the years at handling your fear. When before, you used to hesitate to even step foot onto the sand, now you have become comfortable with the squishing feeling between your toes. However, boats are another story. Your mom once took you on a cruise when you were a child, and honestly, you enjoyed it. Well, for the most part, only until the last night of the tour. Frankly, that's the trip that made you develop your fear of the ocean in the first place. Since then, you've refused to step foot on any watercraft. It's a bit ironic, really. You've grown up on a decently-sized island apart from the mainland—the only way to get across is by a ferry. You're not sure if you'll ever be able to regain your trust with the water.

And watches the ships that go sailin'.

•

"I dare you to go skinny-dipping."

"Oh, hell no. That's a hard pass."

"Really, Gyu? You think she'd do that?"

"You're gross, dude."

"What? Do you want me to go instead?"

"Not really. None of us need to see that."

Being friends with Mingyu, Jungkook, and Hansol—your best friend—is a recipe for no dull moments. You four have a tradition; you'd all take a trip to the Jeon family cabin near the island's peninsula as a way to start your summers. You've all been going for the past few years since your final year of high school, continuing the tradition into your college years.

It's where you find yourselves now, splayed out in drunken messes (some more than others) on the semi-private beach. To your right, there's a small fire pit in the center of your beach chairs. A cold drink is in your left hand to counter the heat in your cheeks from the flames.

"Sorry, (Y/N), I'm an idiot," Mingyu admits after finally realizing what he'd dared you to do. "You don't have to go into the water."

"I wasn't planning on it, but thanks," you reply and take a sip of your drink.

The four of you stare at the fire beginning to diminish. Orange embers glow in the ashes.

Hansol swirls the remains of his beer bottle around. "Why do I suddenly want to go swimming now?"

"Dude, no. It's nearly midnight, and you're drunk," Mingyu retorts, "None of that is a good combination."

The younger boy is about to quip back, but suddenly, a loud splash interrupts his thoughts, heard near the row of rocks separating this property from the next.

The tallest boy stands to try to see the source of the noise, but it's much too dark. "Okay, you're definitely not going swimming now. I don't want to be responsible for your death."

The splashing continues. It isn't as loud as the first time, but it's more constant as if something is struggling by the rocks.

"I'll go check it out," Jungkook puts his bottle down and slips on his sandals, already heading closer to the water.

"Not by yourself, you're not," Hansol is quick to jump to his feet and follow the elder.

You remain seated, and luckily, Mingyu remains at your side too.

•

Somewhere beyond the sea,

Seokmin adores the ocean. Well, he sort of has to since it's been his home for nearly nine decades. He loved playing in the currents with his brothers when he was younger—and now—appreciating how the colour of the water changes the closer he gets to the surface. The ocean makes him feel free. It's like he can go anywhere or see anything. Seokmin can't say he's ever felt love before first-handed, it's not a feeling he can define, but he considers the ocean to be the closest thing that he loves.

She's there watching for me,

He has breached the surface before. It isn't a forbidden action to his people, but it is to be taken carefully; however, there are different rules when you're one of the sons of the merking. There are countless cautionary tales of merfolk who have been spotted by sailors, more on what happens when they get too close to shore. Merpeople are supposed to live for centuries as they slowly age, but most of those tales abruptly cut their lives short. Seokmin feels like the only one who isn't afraid of those stories and wants to see for himself what would happen if he met a land-dweller. He's optimistic that they're not as cruel as the fables portray them to be.

If I could fly like birds on high,

Seokmin is a graceful swimmer. With decades of practice, it's a given talent. He used to struggle when maneuvering through the waves, especially when compared to his two brothers. Yet, with great perseverance and will, Seokmin trained himself to become better. Much stronger and significantly more elegant—he can now soar with ease through the water, quite speedily, too. In his younger days—what would be equivalent to teenagehood in humans—Seokmin would travel for days across the wide ocean, simply feeding his desire to explore.

Then straight to her arms—

Being a part of the royal family means Seokmin is eligible for arranged marriages. Soonyoung, his elder brother coming up on a century old, is already engaged to a beautiful mermaid, Tzuyu; the boy suspects he's next as the second-eldest in their family. Seokmin knows it's to benefit his kingdom, but he also knows that the chance of being in line for the throne is incredibly slim as the second brother. All he wants is to find someone he loves as much as he loves the ocean.

I'd go sailing.

•

"No way," Hansol whispers, breaking the silence between him and Jungkook as they've reached the rocky barrier.

Sure enough, the splashing sound is caused by distress. A boy, looking to be around Hansol's age, is stuck between a few large rocks that have fallen from the wall. It's shallow enough that his torso remains above the surface, but the position looks painful, nonetheless, with one of his arms twisted beneath the collapsed rocks.

"Here," Hansol approaches the stranger slowly, "we can help you."

The boy has a fearful look in his eyes as the human approaches. It's only when Hansol has rolled the legs of his joggers up and is wading into the shallows that he notices the lack of legs the panicking boy has, or rather, the glimmering tail he has instead.

He shrugs off the unusual sight and tries to move the rock, but it's much too large for Hansol to budge by himself, staggering slightly on the uneven ground. He calls Jungkook over to aid him, and the two of them together are able to lift the stone out of the way, freeing the trapped boy.

The stranger slips away and back into the depths before anyone could say anything.

"You saw him too, right?" Hansol asks his friend, pointing out to the vast sea and trying to find some evidence of what was next to him moments ago.

"Yeah," Jungkook is nearly speechless, drying his hands on his shirt.

"He didn't even say thank you."

•

"I fucked up. I fucked up big time!" The youngest brother rants to his siblings upon arriving back to his home safely.

"Alright, Chan, it's time to calm down now-"

"No, Soon, you don't understand! This time was different." Chan continues to ramble, "I would have really been in danger if I was stuck there until morning. The rising sun would suffocate me, no doubt. My precious sixty-one years would be down the drain in an instant!"

“So dramatic,” the eldest chirps. "It's a good thing that those humans found you when they did."

Soonyoung has heard enough of Chan's stories about always venturing off to the shore. He's somewhat jealous. Lately, the eldest has had to spend more time planning for his wedding and preparing to become the next-in-line for the throne. He wishes he could join his brother on an adventure like they used to a couple of decades back.

"Please, Seok, you'll listen to me then, won't you? You're a hopeless romantic."

Seokmin isn't sure if he should be offended by his brother's comment.

"And what if I am?" he asks with his hands fidgeting in his lap. "What does that have to do with this?"

"You're the one who enjoyed exploring the most years ago. I know you've done your share of people-watching before." Chan ponders, then adds more quietly, "Well, and also, the boy who first approached me was kind of cute."

"Oho, does our Channie have a little crush on a human?"

"Great, now you're listening, hyung."

Seokmin sits back and listens to his brothers playfully bantering. He admires them both fondly, sometimes wishing he could be as responsible as Soonyoung, or as free-spirited as Chan. Instead, Seokmin becomes more reserved around his siblings, despite not considering himself to be shy. But the three are well-balanced when they're together.

Noisy, but well-balanced.

"Why do I feel like I need to see him again?" Chan asks Seokmin as they're lying in their shared bedroom. Their older brother has a room to himself, being the next-in-line.

"Maybe you really do like him," Seokmin suggests, not quite knowing what to say. He's never before been enamoured by a particular human, nor any merfolk for that matter. "You're making me curious now. It's been a while since I've seen the surface," he sighs, struggling to remember what dry sand looks like.

"Then you should come with me!" Chan doesn't hesitate to suggest, "I can't guarantee he'll still be there, but it's worth a shot. Right?"

Seokmin hums in thought. As much as he would like to comply with his brother's request, part of him knows how they're not supposed to venture to the surface so freely. Especially with it being so close to Soonyoung's wedding, nothing detrimental should happen to them before the upcoming celebration.

"Besides, I should probably return... this... whatever this is."

Seokmin eyes the strange-looking object with a puzzled expression.

"You know, Chan, it's not very nice to steal things that aren't yours."

•

"Are you sure you checked your suitcase?" you ponder, trying to rack your brain of other locations the missing sandal could have gone. "What about by the hose in the back? Maybe you left it there after rinsing the sand off them."

"No, I've gone through my bags twice already, and I don't think I bothered with the hose last night," Hansol replies. "I have a feeling they're on the beach somewhere. Although, I can't remember if I walked up the path in bare feet or not."

"You were quite drunk, Han."

"Oh, hush. We're on vacation, aren't we?" the boy lifted his eyebrows at the question. "I'm allowed to get drunk. Anyways, will you come with me down to the beach? It's not like my shoe could have walked away on its own," he snickers at his joke, "it's bound to show up somewhere."

You try to ignore the rising uneasiness in your chest. "Do you really need me to go with you?"

"Two sets of eyes are better than one, (Y/N). And I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you. You don't even have to step foot into the water or even go close to it, for that matter."

You sigh and reluctantly agree, slipping on your own pair of sandals for the short walk down to the beach. You know Hansol would have asked one of the other boys to venture with him near the water, but Jungkook and Mingyu had left to get more groceries (and drinks) for tonight, so you were the only option.

"Where did you find the other shoe?" you ask as you scan the area around the fire pit. "Isn't it strange that you only lost one?"

"It was outside the front door. But as you said, (Y/N), I was quite drunk last night."

You giggle at your friend's comment, adding, "Maybe a bird flew off with it this morning," and continue to scan the sand.

"Wait, now that I think of it, I don't think I had that other shoe after we went to the rocks," Hansol considers and begins to walk to the familiar barrier.

The short wall looks smaller in the daylight, but you know the rocks are unstable despite their compact appearance.

You cautiously follow the boy as he ventures closer to the tide.

"You and Kook never did mention what you saw last night over here," you state, trying to create conversation to distract you from being so close to the water.

"Didn't we?" Hansol tries to recall, "I guess we didn't. Maybe because we knew that you and Gyu wouldn't believe us."

"Believe what?"

"Believe-"

You and Hansol turn the corner at the first large rock.

"-that."

Your stomach drops at the sight. There are two boys in the shallows; one is casually sitting and looking around, while the other is floating on the surface.

His rosy, fish-like tail is hard to miss.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Chan exclaims upon seeing the familiar figure, now sitting upright like his brother. "I believe this is yours."

The mermaid holds up Hansol's lost slipper while sporting a beaming smile on his face.

You're in shock. You've read about mythical creatures when you were a child, as most kids do at that age, but never have you thought that their existence is real. Let alone that you would ever come face-to-face with one.

"Thank you," Hansol mutters and carefully approaches the younger male.

Chan introduces himself along with his brother, and Hansol does the same with himself and you.

But you're beginning to panic. The feeling is bubbling up in your throat, and you don't want to break down. So instead, you excuse yourself and run back up the pathway to the cabin.

You miss the way the older merman's eyes remain on your figure as you retreat away.

•

It's far beyond a star,

Seokmin feels strange. It's not the first time he's seen a human-being that close, let alone speak with one, but there was something odd about your behaviour; the unusual feeling seems to stem from seeing you.

"Did you see the way she looked at us?" the second-eldest speaks, recalling your tense expression.

It's near beyond the moon,

"Why? Do you think she's pretty? That would be convenient because I still think Hansol is pretty. I thought he was charming in the moonlight, but now, I can say he's even prettier in the sunshine," Chan hums, repeating the boy's name for the nth time upon their return home. "I never knew humans could be so lovely."

I know beyond a doubt,

"No," Seokmin begins, "I mean, yes, she was pretty too, but she looked afraid of us. Of... me. Didn't she?" He pauses. "I've never had someone be afraid of me before."

Chan glances at his brother's concerned expression. "She was probably just surprised, Seok. Maybe she hasn't seen a merperson in-person before."

"Maybe," Seokmin mumbles, not entirely convinced.

The merman's peculiar feelings about you only fester as the days pass by. When Chan would return to that same beach almost daily in the hopes of seeing Hansol again, Seokmin would remain at his home.

He is strangely impacted by you. Not that you even said a word to Seokmin that day, but the way you reacted threw him off.

He longs to know why you ran away.

My heart will lead me there soon.

•

Not that you needed it, but you now have yet another reason to avoid the ocean.

Hansol ends up journeying down to the beach every time he sees the familiar crimson tail splashing in the shallows from the large cabin window facing the ocean. The other two boys have begun teasing their younger friend about his new fishy pal.

You have tried to express your concern about Chan to Hansol, explaining that he may be dangerous, but your friend has only dismissed your worries and encouraged you that Chan isn't a threat.

"He's a fun guy to talk to. You're welcome to join me down on the beach sometime, (Y/N)," Hansol says as he slips his notorious pair of sandals on. "Actually, Chan has been asking about you lately. If you're doing alright."

You look up from your bowl of cereal with a confused expression. "I don't think I even spoke a word to Chan. Why would he be asking about me?"

Hansol shrugs. "Apparently, one of his brothers has been worried about you. I'm assuming that's why he keeps asking, but that's all I know."

You remain puzzled in your seat at the kitchen table as Hansol closes the front door behind him, wandering down the familiar rocky path towards the water.

"Is (Y/N) coming?" Chan's posture perks up at the sight of the boy approaching.

He shrugs his head, "I don't think so. I'm sure you know by now how apprehensive she can be. Stubborn, too." Hansol takes a seat in the sand. His shoes are off quickly once again as he dips his legs into the water, the gentle waves lapping up to his knees.

Seokmin frowns. He's been accompanying Chan on his near-daily visits in the hopes of seeing you again. With all of the stories Hansol has been telling about the human world and his friends, Seokmin has convinced himself that he wants to properly meet you.

Just to make sure she's doing alright, he tells himself. There's no other reason.

Seokmin takes pride in helping people. As the middle child, he'd often take it upon himself to sort out his brothers' issues, especially on the rare occasion he found them arguing. A mood maker, his mother told him in his youth when she'd noticed the way he always seemed to strive to help others feel better. So when Hansol briefly mentioned your fear of the sea, there's nothing that the boy decides he wants more than to help you see that the ocean isn't something to fear.

However, it is a difficult task to accomplish when you wouldn't even venture down to the beach anymore.

There's part of Seokmin that feels guilty about your recent reluctance. From what Hansol has said, it seems like you were making gradual progress in becoming comfortable near the water. In fact, you hadn't always been afraid of the ocean. Yet, it all seemed to backfire the moment your eyes landed on him and Chan.

It makes Seokmin feel even more responsible for your fear.

•

It's raining today, a stark contrast to the previous perfect blue-sky, sunny weather that you've all been experiencing for the past week on your vacation.

You're the first one up this morning, making your way quietly down the stairs and into the kitchen to make some coffee.

You examine the horizon as the aromatic drink brews. The rain is only spitting down now, but you have a feeling it will pick up later with larger clouds slowly rolling in. It looks like the sun is trying to peek out from behind, although unsuccessful in its attempt.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee when enough fills the pot, hearing the sizzle onto the element when you impatiently remove the container as it continues to drip.

Making your way to the dining table nearby, you take a seat in front of the large window, holding your mug between your hands.

The coffee is too hot to drink right now.

Your mind begins to wander as you wait.

•

(Y/N), age seven.

You wake to a faint ringing sound.

"Mom?"

No response.

You shuffle to the edge of the bed to turn on the lamp. As your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, you're met only with an empty room.

"Mom?" you say louder, just to once again, unsurprisingly, be met with nothing.

Maybe she's still at the party on the deck, you think to yourself. That would explain the sound. Maybe it's from the music.

You slip out from beneath the duvet and make your way to the cabin door.

You take a deep breath, not knowing why you're so nervous, and open the door.

There's no music. It's an alarm.

You suddenly feel the ship lurch to the side, throwing you off balance and into the side of the doorway.

"Mom!" you cry out, for someone, anyone.

You don't want to be alone.

Tears are prickling beneath your eyes, and immediately, panic rises to your throat.

"Are you (Y/N)?"

A young male rushes down the hallway in your direction.

You nod your head in response, not finding your words.

"Your mom said you'd be down here, come on. She's already up in the rendezvous spot." His nametag says Seungcheol.

You accept his outstretched hand and follow him as he hurries down the corridor back the way he came.

The boat sways again, but Seungcheol stands his ground, keeping you steady on your feet too.

"What's happening?" your voice crackles.

Seungcheol continues to guide you through the interior of the ship. "There was an unexpected storm suddenly. Captain didn't even see it on our radars, it came out of nowhere. We're taking precautions and gathering everyone in the lounge while he works on getting us to shore."

The two of you make it above the cabins where the wind and rain are pelting down stronger than you've ever seen before. You're having a hard time keeping your balance on the rocking boat, your hand slowly slipping out of Seungcheol's grasp.

A giant wave hits the side of the ship, effectively removing your small hand from Seuncheol's as you're thrown to the side.

You scream as the wave seems to drag you away and pulls you off the edge of the ship.

You hear someone else yell; maybe it's your mother, maybe it's Seungcheol, but before you know it, you are doused in the cold ocean.

The instant your body falls into the depths, you're frozen, petrified, unable to move. You try to struggle your way to the surface, but your clothes weigh you down, only making you sink further below.

Your lungs burn. Trapped in the darkness, you can barely see the moonlight above anymore.

You succumb to your watery grave, eyes closed and arms wrapped around your small figure in a final effort to gain warmth.

Suddenly, you are hit by a feeling of serenity like your mother is cradling you once again. You lean into the tender touch and begin to drift away into unconsciousness.

She belongs to the sea.

You seem to hallucinate a raspy voice hiss out the strange remark.

And then you're gone.

•

Each time you see the familiar grey, gloomy clouds in the atmosphere brings you back to that one fateful day from your childhood.

You know something else happened to you after you fell into the water, but you can't for the life of you recall what.

You know you somehow made it back to the shore safely in one piece. Could it have been that kind staff member who collected you from your room? Or perhaps your mother who dove in after seeing you fall overboard?

You've kept that day to yourself; the only one who knows the full story is Hansol. Not even Jungkook nor Mingyu are aware of all the details; they only know the gist of the origins of your fear of the ocean.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

Hansol's voice brings you back to reality. He's come from the kitchen and is currently standing next to you. Now brought back to your senses, you feel the slight sting from the hot cup of coffee resting between your palms.

"Nothing," you mutter out, removing your hands from the ceramic. You keep your gaze out the window at the hazy horizon; the tide seems to be rising with the weather getting progressively worse. "Are you seeing Chan today?"

"No," he answers, taking a sip from his cup. "Not that I know of, at least. I doubt he'll come if it's raining like this."

The wind looks like it's beginning to pick up. You can hear it howling on the other side of the windows.

"Right, of course."

The boy takes a seat across from you. "Are you sure you're doing okay?" he pushes, "You know you don't have to stay here for the full two weeks with us, right?"

"I know," you reply, "I've just been feeling more anxious recently, but I'm not entirely sure why." You take a sip of your coffee, burning the tip of your tongue slightly. "But I'll be okay."

Hansol's concern for you doesn't waver despite your words or the smile you’re presenting.

"Some storm, huh?" Mingyu's voice is heard from the staircase as he treks down to the main floor. His hair is still damp from his shower.

Hansol makes a noise of acknowledgement and takes another sip of his coffee.

Mingyu prepares a cup of coffee for himself. "Do you think the water will rise all the way up to the deck?"

You involuntary freeze at the thought.

"No, it shouldn't," Hansol says confidently.

And it doesn't, but it does come close. As the rain continues to pour, the entirety of the rocky path becomes submerged beneath the saltwater.

The sound of the storm keeps you awake as you lie in bed that night, picking at a loose thread on the duvet cover. You think you can feel the cabin sway with the heavy wind, but you blame it on your imagination.

She belongs to the sea.

You blame your imagination for the husky voice you hear too.

The sea.

The shutter on your bedroom window flies open; it's certainly not your imagination this time. You immediately stand up and make your way to the adjacent wall to close it, only to see just how high the tide has risen since you've retreated to bed.

Now you must be dreaming.

The sea level appears to be just below your window. Being on the upper floor of the cabin, that's more than concerning.

"(Y/N)?"

You back away from the window at the sound of your name spoken from the other side of it.

A vaguely familiar mop of damp brown hair appears outside your windowsill.

"Seokmin?" You squint your eyes at the face you see in the moonlight. Panic laces your voice, "What the hell is happening?"

Yeah, you really must be dreaming.

The merman reaches his arm through the threshold of your window with his hand open for you to take.

"Do you trust me?"

Every part of you screams no. No! You've lived your whole life in fear of the ocean and what resides within it. Taking this creature's hand would contradict your entirety.

"Please," he adds.

You feel yourself being drawn towards him, one foot after another taking you closer until your hand brushes against his. His fingertips are pruned, a sensation slightly rough against your smooth ones.

When he closes his hand around yours, you hear the rain abruptly stop.

Everything becomes silent, like the drops of water have stopped with time.

"It's okay," Seokmin whispers, warmly smiling at you.

Before you know it, his lips connect with your forehead.

And you suddenly remember that night you fell into the abyss.

•

Your lungs burn. Trapped in the darkness, you can barely see the moonlight above anymore.

You succumb to your watery grave, eyes closed and arms wrapped around your small figure in a final effort to gain warmth.

Suddenly, you are hit by a feeling of serenity like your mother is cradling you once again. You lean into the tender touch and begin to drift away into unconsciousness.

She belongs to the sea.

You seem to hallucinate a raspy voice hiss out the strange remark.

And then you're gone.

No, you think you're gone, but the burning sensation in your lungs is alleviated.

You open your eyes once more to find your small body enveloped by another being. It has a tail: a long, dark violet tail extending beneath you. Your fear hasn't left you completely, but the way you're cradled so carefully eases you.

"It's okay," a gentle voice whispers, causing you to look up to meet a pair of brown eyes and a warm smile. "You're safe."

"What's happening?" you hear your voice ask for the second time that day, unsure of how you're able to speak beneath the water.

"Your father wants you home," is the boy's response, "but I've tried to tell him it's not your time yet."

"My... father?"

You can't picture a face to the name you speak. Each time you've asked your mother about him, she's only said how he was a wonderful man. Was.

"Yes, (Y/N). Sorry about the storm. He gets emotional when thinking of you." One of the merman's hands supports the back of your head to his chest as he dashes through the water. "It's because he misses you."

"Are we going to see him now?"

"No, not yet. One day I'll find you again, and we will see him. Together."

Before you know it, your heads break through to the surface where the weather is much clearer than before. Your rescuer moves slowly towards the beach near the dock, continuing his hold on you until your feet can touch the ground.

You cough up some of the water that infiltrated your lungs before asking, "May I know your name?"

The merman smiles once more, the apples of his wet cheeks reflecting the moonlight. "You will, one day, little jellyfish."

•

Your eyes open only to find you still stood by your window with a familiar set of arms around you.

You take note of his purple tail extending below.

"You," you whisper, taking a step back from the windowsill to get a proper look at the boy residing on the other side, "We've met before."

Seokmin chuckles at your realization, "Yes, many years ago."

"You saved me."

"Kind of," he ponders. "You wouldn't have drowned; your father wouldn't have let that happen. I only made sure you wouldn't sink to the bottom of the ocean."

"Right, my father." The title still sounds alien from your mouth. You gesture to the flooded outside, "Did he do this too?"

Seokmin sheepishly scratches the nape of his neck, "Word may have gotten around that you were visiting the oceanside. You know how excitable Chan can get."

You smile at the idea of the youngest royal brother bragging about seeing you. "If my father's a merman, then why am I human?"

"Who said your father's a merperson?" Seokmin counters, "He's less of a merman and more of a sorcerer who resides within the waves."

"No shit."

The boy giggles at your remark.

"But if I technically come from the sea, then why have I been so afraid of it?"

"Are you still afraid of it now, jellyfish?"

You open your mouth, about to say your habitual response, but only to find yourself lacking one life-long phobia.

"No," you furrow your eyebrows.

"It was a spell I placed on you, back when you were a child," Seokmin fiddles with your hand; his is now dry. "It was to prevent you from returning when you weren't ready."

"Am I ready now?"

"My goodness, so many questions."

But Seokmin takes the time to answer them all for you.

You pull up a chair to the window as he remains in the raised tide.

That night, you learn that you're less human than you originally thought. You're not a merperson like Seokmin and his brothers are, but you do similarly come from the ocean.

Your father had unexpectedly met your mother one summer's day, the two falling in love faster than either party had expected. You weren't necessarily planned, but the two were ecstatic, nevertheless. Your father had to return back to the depths—his home—leaving your mother alone for the rest of her pregnancy. Yet, after she had you, she was significantly less lonely. She seemed to have the whole ocean supporting her, despite her lover unable to return to the surface.

When you were an infant, you were drawn to the water. Perhaps you could hear your father calling out to you for you to return home at sea with him, where he thought you belonged more-so than on land.

Seokmin had placed the spell on you to give you the opportunity for a normal youth on the surface. He recalled the way he so strongly loved being free of stress and confinement before his royal responsibilities became more prevalent and only wished the same for you.

Practicing magic under your father's teaching made Seokmin create a spell strong enough to last for over a decade.

He refrained from telling your father what he'd done that night when he found you. He knew how powerful the man was; a tsunami or hurricane could have easily been a product of his emotions.

Although now, the spell has worn off. Once more, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the water and arguably even-more-so to the boy with his hands encased in yours.

"Will I get to meet him one day?" your eyes examine the way Seokmin's thumb grazes across your knuckles, tracing every crest and trough on your skin.

"Yes," he says, "though only when the tides lower again. I don't want him flooding the entire island out of happiness."

You hum out an "Okay" and catch the beginnings of the rising sun in the distance, illuminating Seokmin's already-glowing silhouette.

•

We'll meet beyond the shore,

"(Y/N), could I try something?"

Seokmin's ears are tinted a pretty pink as he examines your form sitting in the shallow water.

You shift your attention from feeling the silky sand beneath the waves lightly lapping against your ankles and to the merman sitting next to you. His hair is slowly beginning to dry from being in the summer sunshine.

We'll kiss just as before,

Seokmin takes your hand tenderly and brings it to his lips. It's a gentle touch, but the act sends a flurry of butterflies straight into your chest. The boy smiles brightly, his eyes slightly crinkling at the corners, and laces his fingers between yours.

Happy we'll be beyond the sea,

"I like the way your hand fits in mine, jellyfish."

Your eyes meet Seokmin's, who are trained on the pair of your intertwined hands.

"I like it too," you admit, smiling as his gaze lifts and meets yours.

He slowly leans in.

And never again I'll go sailing. ••

143 notes · View notes

flamehairedwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Happiest Season Of All

Characters: Chief Jim Hopper x Female Reader

Rating: M, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Happy Holidays! Phew, it’s been a while. Here is a kind of drabble, and also kind of a sequel to Pain In My Heart? Set the year before S1, there’s no mentions of family, no use of Y/N, and it’s just a gentle, kind of angsty little story.

This story contains broken hearts, swearing, alcohol and embarrassment.

I hope you enjoy and have a lovely week!

Summary: Broken up with just before Christmas? Fantastic. The only thing that can help is returning to your home town, old friends... and an old love.

Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or repost my work; credit does not count.

—

23rd December 1982

‘... There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, and carolling out in the snow...’

You quietly hum along absent-mindedly to the cassette someone’s playing from a boombox, gazing out of the window. Usually, you’d have been annoyed but, hey, it’s the holidays.

Besides, you haven’t had much of a chance to get into the festive spirit or mood recently. With the classic Christmas song playing, the train rumbling gently and the twinkling lights in the darkness slowly growing brighter, you’re finally starting to feel it. Inhaling a breath, you lean your temple against the cold glass, your fingers lacing together in your lap as you gaze at the lights.

Hawkins, Indiana. Your hometown.

It’s been a few years since you were here for longer than a weekend but, oh, boy, this year you just need to be here. You’re retreating, you’re not too proud to admit, coming home to lick your wounds and be surrounded by all things familiar, cosy and boring.

You almost laugh. You’d left this place because it was so damn boring and now here you are, craving it. If teenage you could see you now. She’d be giving ‘that’ look which you’re told you still give to this day.

Ah, well. Time’s a bitch, baby.

The train slows as it pulls into the station and you start to gather your things while a few others around you stand and pull their bags down from the overhead racks. You pull your suitcases down as the train comes to a stop, all three of them, with their different colours and patterns. Pulling on your scarf, coat and rucksack, you haul the suitcases down the aisle as best as you can single-file, muttering under your breath as they catch every few steps against chairs.

The wheels clatter onto the concrete of the cold platform when you step down, one suitcase twisting onto its front and tangling with the others as it nearly falls from your hand. Muttering under your breath again, you right it and continue walking down the platform, two small groups of people reuniting having to part for you. Making eye contact with a grateful smile, you’re relieved you don’t recognise any of them; you’re really not in the mood for your own reunion right now.

“There she is!”

Well, just the one.

A smile spreads across your face as Karen Wheeler trots down the platform in her heeled boots, grinning and her arms open wide. The suitcases drop from your hands as you throw your arms around one another, rocking from side to side slightly.

“Oooh, hello, sweetheart,” Karen murmurs, pressing a big, wet kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, Karrie.”

Your smile lingers, and it’s the first genuine one you’ve had in a while. Karen has worn the same perfume since high school and it puts you at ease instantly. God, you just love her. You talk on the phone every other week and have done since you moved out of Hawkins; she’s been the most consistent friend in your life and you love her with all your damn heart.

“C’mon, give me those, let’s get out of here, it’s freezing...” Pulling back, she takes two of the suitcases from you before you can protest and starts striding down the platform.

You have to do a quick little jog to catch up with her, marvelling, not for the first or even fortieth time, how she can go so quickly in those heels. It’s a short walk to the exit, made shorter by Karen’s pace, and she’s parked right outside. Wonderful. Opening the trunk, you both bundle your suitcases in, tossing your rucksack on top of it, and then do a speedy little walk to the doors, yanking them open.

“Oof, coldest winter we’ve had in years,” Karen shivers dramatically in her seat as she rubs her gloved hands together before buckling her seatbelt.

Buckling your own as she eases out onto the road, you blow out a breath. “Yeah, definitely feels that way.”

“So, how was the journey?”

“Oh, the usual, long but fine. It was a lot emptier than I expected.”

“Well, we keep hearing there’s gonna be a blizzard, so some folks have come home a little earlier.”

“Well, that’s smart.”

“Yeah. Means I keep bumping into people at the store that I wish I could avoid, though, and on the street.” She snorts as she glances at you. “Ugh, I bumped into Peggy Dawnes the other day, remember her? She would not stop talking about her perfect life on her perfect farm with her perfect husband and her perfect kids and her perfect lawn. Well, there were ten bottles of wine in her cart and I know for a fact her mother doesn’t drink and her perfect husband only likes neat whisky, so, there.”

“Oh.”

You cringe internally at your short reply, but you really can’t think of what else to say. Karen glances at you again, pausing. You look over at her and find the sympathy you’ve only been able to hear during the last few weeks. She reaches over and pats your knee gently before returning her hand to the wheel.

“Oh, sweetheart... How are you doing?”

You release a breath, raising your eyebrows slightly. “Better for being here, already. But, y’know...”

She gives you a sympathetic smile as she pats your knee again. “Don’t worry, toots, like I said you can stay as long as you want, it’s no trouble at all.”

You return her smile, relieved that you find you don’t have to force it. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” Her smile widens as she tilts her head. "The kids are looking forward to having you with us, you know how much they love you. It’ll do us all some good.”

You don’t ask about Ted because you know not to.

“I can’t wait to see them, too. How have they been?”

You gaze out of the windshield as she tells you how Nancy and Mike are doing at school and how many words Holly can say now, your eyes flitting from house to house. Decorations are out in full force, as they should be, they’ve probably been up since the 1st of the month, and it makes you smile to see them, remembering how you and Karen would go from house to house when you were younger and rate them out of 10 candy canes.

Ah, the simple life.

She’s still chatting about Mike and his friends when she turns down onto their long drive. It’s lined with various Christmas lawn ornaments, most lit up. Lights line the inside of some of the many windows of the house, too, making it look gorgeous and cosy and warm. A curtain is yanked back suddenly and Mike’s face appears, grinning. He waves frantically and you smile instantly, waving back with your eyebrows raised.

My favourite, funny little kid.

He’s already at the wide open door when Karen parks, still grinning. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you open the door and step out only to have him nearly slam into you before you can straighten, hugging you tightly.

“You’re here!”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as fiercely. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

“Yeah. C’mon, I wanna show you this book I got...” He’s already out of your arms and waving you towards the door, which Karen is muttering about the heat being let out of.

Chuckling to yourself, you help her with your suitcases and rucksack, feeling vastly different to how you did ten minutes ago; they never fail to raise your spirits. Nancy greets you as you enter, smiling widely and also ready for a hug. You give it gladly and just as fiercely as you had with Mike, asking her how she is. She shrugs and just says “Fine,” with a smile as you remove your shoes and coat, and you marvel at how she’d once been as talkative as Mike when she was younger. You hear the boy himself calling from the basement, telling you he can’t currently find the book but it’s around here someone and you’re gonna love it! You follow Karen up the stairs to the guest room with a wide smile, calling back your thanks to him.

Passing walls lined with family photographs, it’s a short walk down the hall to the room you’ll be staying in for... well, who knows. Karen opens the door with a trilled, “Ta-da!” and you laugh as you take in the sight before you. It’s completely decked out in Christmas decorations; tinsel on every bit of furniture, snow-globes on the window sill, a polar bear stuffed toy on the bed, fairy-lights around the headboard. You’d roll your eyes at the excessiveness of it if it wasn’t so damn sweet.

“Wow, it’s like Santa’s Grotto in here...”

“Eh, close enough, I wanted fake snow on the ground but Ted vetoed that idea pretty quick.”

You snort, hauling the suitcase you’re carrying onto the bench at the end of the bed and dropping your rucksack onto it before sitting on the bed, your fingers running over the blanket Karen’s mother had crocheted. Nancy lingers in the doorway, and after leaning your other suitcases against a chest of drawers, Karen turns to her, making a shooing gesture.

“All right, go on, Nance, us hot young things need to get ready.”

“Ugh, Mom...” Nancy just about manages to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she turns away and heads back down the hall while you stare at Karen.

“Uh... Ready for what? Bed?”

“No,” Karen laughs, and you suddenly notice she’s going through your suitcase on the bench, rifling through and pulling various items out. “We’re going out, to the bar.”

“The bar?”

“Yes, the bar.”

You’re still staring at her. “Where everyone we know goes?”

Karen shrugs, looking at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s still the only good bar in Hawkins.”

“I thought you wanted to avoid everyone.”

“Eh, yeah, but... y’know, only good bar in Hawkins. And...” Oh, no, she’s looking sheepish, her head bowing slightly as she glances from you to some of your clothes she’s pulled out. “... Uh, we’re kinda having a party here tomorrow, anyway, so...”

“What?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, her hands raising. “It just kinda happened. It’s been years since we’ve had one and Ted and I were talking about it and then I saw Mary-Lou at Mike’s school and I just happened to mention it and she got so excited and then I got excited and it just, it suddenly happened.”

Your lips press together as you exhale a short breath. “Well, they were fun...”

“Yeah, they were, weren’t they?” Karen sits beside you with a nostalgic sigh, shaking her head. “We had some of the best times of our lives at ‘em.”

“Yeah... I remember the one after you gave birth to Nancy, I thought I was gonna have to take you to the hospital.”

“Ha! Thank God my Mom came over to look after her. What about the one where you set fire to the tree?”

“Oh, please don’t remind me, and that wasn’t actually my fault, you know,”

“Ha, yeah, sure, that was great...”

You both sigh together, a smile finding its way onto your lips at all the memories that come flooding back. They had been fun. You hadn’t been able to attend every one over the years but the ones you had had been so great they’d almost made you want to stay in Hawkins. Maybe... Maybe a return to a beloved tradition is exactly what you need.

Turning your head to her, you arch an eyebrow. “You didn’t think to tell me it was happening, though?”

Karen shrugs as she smiles. “I didn’t want you to talk yourself out of enjoying it before it had even happened. Same as tonight.”

“Oh, Karrie...” You huff out a breath. “... You know me too well, it’s so annoying. Ugh, I was so looking forward to just curling up on the couch, drinking and watching some of the classics.”

“I know.” She pats your knee, nudging her shoulder against yours. “And we’re gonna do that the day after Christmas, and every day that you want to while you’re here. But tonight, we’re gonna get fancy and go out and get a little bit drunk. It’s Christmas, c’moooon.”

You just can’t help but smile. “All right. All right! Fine. How long have I got?”

“An hour.”

“What—”

She’s already on her feet, pointing at you as she heads to the door. “Take a shower while I cook us and the kids something up, and then we’ll get ready. okay?”

You know you have absolutely no choice in the matter. “Okay, fine.”

“Great!” she beams, reaching for the door handle to close it behind herself. She pauses, though, resting her weight on one foot as she clears her throat. “Oh, and uh... he’s probably gonna be there.”

You don’t have to ask who she’s referring to.

Staring at her, you manage to keep your features expressionless. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah.” She’s watching you carefully, teeth grazing over her lower lip. “He is nearly every night, apparently, according to Marian.”

Raising your eyebrows slightly, you smile. “Well... maybe he won’t be.”

“Yeah, maybe he won’t be...” She’s still watching you, a gentle smile pulling at her lips. “Shower, toots.”

“Okay, okay...” You wave your hand as she pulls the door closed, hearing her move down the hallway.

The moment you hear her heading down the stairs, you release a long breath, lying back on the bed.

Oh, shit...

Well.

You stare at the ceiling as the realisation suddenly dawns on you.

I might see Jim Hopper tonight.

James Hopper. Jim. Hopper. Hop. Chief, also now, not that you’ve ever been around to call him that.

You’d been friends since you were kids, best friends actually, at one point closer than you and Karen had been, and then feelings had developed when you'd become teenagers and then you’d taken the leap and had started dating and then...

You’d broken up.

And you’d been the one to initiate it.

And you’d done that because, well... It was because of a lot of little things. Mainly, though, you hadn’t known what route you wanted to take, college or work, you hadn’t even known what you wanted to do, but you knew you wanted to get out of Hawkins. And Hop... hadn’t known what the hell he wanted to do either, but he hadn’t even thought about it. He’d spoken once or twice about joining the military, or just starting a job, too. College hadn’t even crossed his mind. The conversation had come up and, well, it hadn’t ended well.

In fact, when it ended, that has been the last time you’ve spoken to him. As you’ve returned home over the years you’ve heard he did join the military, fought in Vietnam, came home, married, and lived in New York the same time you had. You’d been heartbroken to hear from Karen that his daughter had died, and he’d divorced and moved back home.

Now, he’s Chief of Hawkins Police and, well, you’d love to avoid seeing him at all costs. There can come a time when, having not seen someone in decades, you can’t even have a casual conversation because all both parties are doing is screaming in their heads.

Well. Like you’d said yourself. He might not be there.

Hey, as Chief of Police this is probably a very busy time of year and he’ll be off doing something.

It’s gonna be fine.

Absolutely fine.

After showering, you throw on some clean, comfy clothes and head downstairs to eat with Karen and the kids.

Holly sits at the table in her highchair, silent as ever, well, being two years old she only knows a handful of words, but she just stares at you as she has done since she was a baby. Mike talks non-stop about school and his friends while Nancy chimes in every now and then to talk about her own friends, saying names of people in her class that you take a moment or two to remember, and to mutter insults at him while he mutters them back.

Karen half-heartedly tells them to stop in between telling you what she might wear, and you somehow manage to keep up with all conversations. Frankly, it’s also quite nice after being surrounded by mostly silence for the last few weeks.

Whipping your plate away from you seconds after you finish, Karen is up and striding to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder.

“C’mon! Let’s get sexy!”

Your lips twitch as Mike and Nancy groan, the only thing they can agree on right now being that their Mom is a complete and utter embarrassment.

She practically shoves you up the stairs, trying to get you to move faster, and from then on the next 30 minutes feels like a whirlwind. She tries on six outfits before settling on her usual favourite, and changes in your room while you rifle through what you’ve brought. Luckily, even though you can’t really remember packing, you’ve brought some of your own favourites, and, after scrambling to find some shoes to go with them, she helps you decide on an old classic.

Gazing at you, her hands on her hips, she beams with delight.

“Well, look at you, huh! Fancy lady!”

You give a twirl as she whoops, and then her arm is looping through yours and she’s practically dragging you towards the door.

“Bye, guys, we’ll be back late!” she calls out, though no one answers, too busy doing their own thing.

You haven’t seen any sign of Ted and, once again, you know not to ask.

“Late? How late is late?” you ask with an arched eyebrow as she hurries you down the stairs.

“Oh, come on, not that late, we’re not gonna get wasted, we’re not teenagers anymore.”

—

“... God, I hate it...”

The stall door slams against the cubicle wall as you pull it open a little more forcefully than you had intended. Holding it for a moment, you exhale a short breath before moving towards the sinks, only swaying a little. Washing your hands, you glance up at Karen, watching her try to reapply her lipstick as neatly as possible.

“And did you hear Julian is engaged? And Andrea has a new boyfriend? Is it me or is everybody getting into a relationship?”

She snorts, rubbing her lips together. “It’s that time of year, folks hate being lonely at Christmas.”

You scoff, turning the tap off and drying your hands. “Just sleep with people, then, doesn’t mean you have to get into a relationship and hog someone all to yourself.”

She laughs, slipping her lipstick back into her bag before turning to you, a hand on her hip. “Oh, babe... C’mon, let’s find you someone to have meaningless sex with it.”

“Okay.”

The bar has been heaving from the moment you’d arrived. It usually is, but tonight the place is rammed, perhaps because of the time of year, but maybe more because, it turns out, there’s an offer on drinks, it being the holiday season and all, and happy hour has lasted more than one hour. More than two. It’s nearing three now.

Each sip has helped you relax, even as Karen gasps and points out old high school classmates, filling you in on every detail of their lives she’s learned. So far, incredibly gladly, she’s not pointed out a certain Chief.

Returning to your table, which a guy you don’t recognise has been guarding for you, as in literally guarding, he has his hands behind his back and is saying, “Nah, move along, this ain’t free...” to anyone who looks like they’re going to swoop in. At spotting you both, he grins and holds his arms out wide, gesturing at the table.

“All free for you, m’ladies.”

You’re unable to stop a smile because there’s something so weirdly charming about this absolute goofball of a man. He takes a seat beside Karen as you sit, the two of them having been exchanging small talk that verged on flirting. Heck, it was flirting. Sipping from your drink as you watch them, you feel a small, familiar twist in your stomach.

Karen is more like her teenage self when she’s with you, but when you see her with Ted, no longer Teddy as he had been in high school, and the kids, she’s Karen the mom, like she’s caged her personality in and doesn’t quite know how to bring the two parts of herself together. When she’d come to visit you once last year, you’d gone out to a bar and you’d watched her flirt with a couple of the men there. You’d thought it was harmless at first, just a bit of fun for her, she’s a charismatic lady, but then something had changed and, as a guy had held her hand, stroking it, and she hadn’t pulled away, you’d felt a twist in your stomach.

She’s gonna have an affair one day.

The thought had come to you so suddenly and so sharply that you’d shoved it away with all your might, horrified with yourself. No, Karen wouldn’t do that... Would she? Since then, you’d become more and more unsure. You’ve stopped asking about Ted when you talk because she’d just sigh heavily and spend the next ten minutes pointing out every flaw he has, how the romance has gone, how she’s tried and nothing happens. You know she’s unhappy, but you just can’t see her doing it. You hope not, anyway.

Looking away from them, you watch a few people dancing, Christmas music flowing out of the speakers above.

Karen laughs at something the guy says, and in the corner of your eye you see her place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, that’s too funny! You’re really funny... Sorry, what’s your name again?”

The man is unfazed, still grinning. “Callahan. Phil Callahan.”

He says it with such an atrocious Sean Connery accent, making Karen burst out laughing again, and it makes you smile, too.

“Oh, big James Bond fan, huh?” she says, her elbow on the table, chin in her hand.

“Oh, yeah, it’s why I became a cop.”

Your gaze darts to him. “You’re a cop?”

He raises his hands as he laughs. “Yeah, but, hey, you go on and drink as much as you want, I’m off duty now.”

Karen laughs and you make yourself join in, but your heart has started to beat a little faster.

Oh, stop it, he’s not here.

You take a quick sip of your drink again to cover the fact you aren’t laughing anymore, and then Callahan looks up, his grin widening somehow as he waves his hand frantically.

“Hey, boss, over here!”

Boss?

Boss.

The entire room seems to slow down as you turn your head and see a man, who’s stopped for a moment to shake hands with someone, with brown hair and a neatly clipped beard, wearing a brown leather jacket, plaid shirt and jeans, his eyebrows raised—

Oh, God.

Oh, shit.

Oh fucking Lord in the manger.

Callahan is slapping his hand against the vacant seat at the table, that happens to be close to you, practically shouting, “Hop’, here, saved ya a seat!”

You swiftly turn back around, staring at Karen. She’s frozen, staring at you, and for the next three seconds you somehow communicate an entire conversation with just your eyebrows and eyes.

Both of you seem to agree on fuuuuuuck.

You can’t just get up and leave, that would be the most obvious thing in the entire world. What if he doesn’t recognise you? Yeah, maybe you’ll be so incredibly fucking lucky and it’ll be a Christmas miracle and you’ll somehow have just disappeared from his memory.

Swallowing hard as you hear him move past a group behind you with an “Excuse me,” you rest your hands on the table, gripping them together.

“Hey, Callahan, where’s everybody else?”

Oh, his voice has changed. It’s deeper, rougher.

“Oh, well, Powell said he and his wife are gonna come later when he finishes his shift, and Jones, Davids and Williamson are over there, they’ve been waitin’ to get a drink for ages.” Callahan laughs delightedly, and Karen joins in, giving a slightly nervous one.

It draws Hopper’s attention and you don’t dare look up to see his expression but there’s a note of surprise in his tone.

“Karen, hey, you doin’ okay?”

“Yes, thank you.” And then she panics. “We’re just having a night out.” And then she panics more when she realises what she’s said, and that she’s gestured at you, her eyes as wide as her now somewhat manic smile.

Oh. God.

Lifting your head, you automatically smile, your features frozen.

“Hi.”

Hi.

He looks from Karen to you, and you’re suddenly subject to the full force of Jim Hopper’s gaze for the first time in decades.

Oh. God.

You can’t help it; the memories of the last time you saw him flood your mind.

“Hop’, are you even listening to me?”

He swiftly puts down the ball of rubberbands he’d been picking at on your desk, his eyebrows raised as he looks to you.

“Yeah, yeah, course I am.”

Your own eyebrows rise even higher, your hands lifted. “What, then?”

He tilts his head slightly, grazing his teeth over his lower lip. “’What’, what?”

“You weren’t fucking listening—”

“No, I was,” he quickly says at your weary sigh, leaning forward in the chair and resting his elbows on his knees, an easy smile pulling at his lips. “C’mon, just repeat the last part.”

You’d once found this all charming and endearing.

Your hands going to your waist, you exhale another breath before folding your arms, managing to calm yourself.

“What are you gonna do after school?”

Hop’ shrugs, leaning back again. “I don’t know. What are you gonna do?”

It was just the answer you’d feared, and expected. Licking your lips, you glance down at the carpet before steeling yourself and meeting his gaze again.

You can do this.

“I’m thinking of moving.”

He nods, his smile returning. “Okay, where?”

“I don’t know. New York, maybe. There’s jobs there and I have a friend there, I could stay with her for a bit.”

“Or we could get a place together.”

You stare at him, feeling your stomach twist.

“So... you’re, you’re just gonna follow me where I go.”

“Yeah.” His brow dips slightly, the smile still there, though it’s hesitant. “Aren’t girlfriends supposed to be happy when their boyfriends say that?”

“Yeah, but... What do you want to do?”

Hop’ shrugs again. “I don’t know. I know I wanna be with you, though.”

You’d once have quietly swooned at that and given him a fond smile. Now, though... You want more.

“Hop’, I don’t... I don’t wanna be one of those high school couples that just sticks together because they’re together. I want you to actually want this.”

He’s frowning again, confusion starting to set in. “I do.”

You say it quietly. “I don’t think you do.”

He stares at you, all traces of his smile gone. Then, he scoffs, leaning back in his chair a little more as he folds his arms.

“So now you’re tellin’ me what I do and don’t feel?”

“No, I just, I want you to have some drive, some ambition, not just go along with what I say and do.”

“I go along with it because it’s what I want.”

You can feel tears stinging at your eyes but your mind has also been made up.

“I don’t think it is, I just think it’s easy and safe for you.”

“Stop tellin’ me what I’m feelin’!”

His voice raising makes yours, too.

“Am I wrong?”

He looks at you like he has no idea who you are, and for some reason that really pisses you off because you don’t really recognise him anymore, either.

“Why are you pushing me away?!”

“I’m not, I—”

“Where has all this come from, then?!”

“I don’t know if I want this!”

Silence falls.

You swallow thickly as he stares at you, your voice cracking slightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but... y’know, Karrie and Teddy, they... I look at them and at Joyce and Lonnie and they’re so happy, they know what they want, and they can’t wait to get married and settled down, here, but...”

“You don’t want that,” he finishes for you, quietly.

You speak after a moment, your tone matching his. “I don’t.”

“You don’t want me.”

That sends a knife through your heart because honestly? You have no idea.

Shaking your head, you close your eyes for a moment. “No, yes, I... I don’t know. I care so much about you, but... I just think we’re on different paths.”

His gaze drops as your words linger in the air. Clearing his throat, he glances up at you again.

“What if we just take a break, for a bit. Or I can come up and visit you, in New York.”

He’s just a boy, you suddenly think, your heart breaking.

Biting at your lower lip to stop it from trembling, you give a small shrug. “I think that wouldn’t be fair on us both.”

He nods slowly, his jaw moving, and you’ve never seen him this distant. Raising his eyebrows slightly, he stands.

“Seems you already had this all figured out.”

“No, no, I didn’t, I just don’t want to be unfair to you—”

“Could I have said anything that would have changed your mind?” His quiet words silence you, and you have to stifle a sob.

“... No.”

Hop gazes at you, and after several moments he nods. “Good luck with everything.”

You’d burst into tears the moment he’d left your room. The front door had slammed shut and as you’d sat on your bed and cried and cried you’d heard his car door slam, too. You’d cried for days, going between telling yourself you’d made a huge mistake, and then that you’d done what was best, that he didn’t appreciate you like he used to and it wasn’t your job to fix him and coach him through life and that... yeah, you’d fallen out of love with him.

You hadn’t just lost a boyfriend that day, though, you’d also lost your best friend.

You loved Karen but there was just something different about Hop’, something that made you feel safe and like you could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge. As you’d moved away and the months had gone on, several triumphs and bad days had happened, and all you’d wanted to do was just pick up the phone to call him and tell him. You’d stopped yourself every time.

Then, at some unremarkable point, you’d just stopped getting that urge, and life had moved on.

Oh, it certainly had moved on.

You stare at him, trying to look without looking. You can still see the face of the teenager you once knew, though with the beard and the lines at the corners of his eyes he’s very much a man now.

God, is he a man.

He was tall when you’d known him, but is he taller now, somehow? Had he had another growth spurt in his twenties? His hands are huge, too, and he’d been confident back then but it had come from cockiness whereas now he just seems quietly so, more sure of himself.

And you have absolutely no idea what he’s thinking. He’s staring at you so expressionlessly that you believe for a moment or two he actually has forgotten you.

Then, he speaks

“Hey. Been a long time.”

Hey. Been. A. Long. Time.

Said like you didn’t once whisper “I love you” to each other and share every single secret you’d ever had.

Then again, all you’d been able to muster up was a ‘Hi’.

You’re still smiling and you don’t know how to stop.

“Yeah, it has.”

“How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, you?”

“Yeah, good. You home for the holidays?”

“Yep.”

He runs his fingers over his mouth as he nods, and oh my God, he’s attractive. Is he, or is it the alcohol?

Wanting to banish the thoughts from your mind and distract yourself, you quickly continue.

“I’m staying with Karen.”

“That’s nice.” It’s said absolutely expressionlessly. “Just ‘till the new year?”

“Uhm, indefinitely. I’m, I’m working, uh, going through, uh, I’m moving, at the moment.”

“Okay. Well, I hope it goes okay.”

Oh my God, he’s winding down the conversation. He’s gonna go.

And you’re still smiling.

“Thank you.”

Nodding, he glances at Callahan. “I’m gonna go and check in with the others, see how they are.”

Callahan just nods once, his gaze flicking from you to Hopper and back again with utter confusion.

Rising, Hopper glances from Karen to you.

“See you around.”

“Yeah, bye, happy holidays,” you answer, Karen possibly unable to speak.

His lips move slightly, possibly into a faint smile. “Yeah, to you, too.”

And then he walks away, heading for the bar. Staring at where he’d just been sat, a slightly strangled sound releases from the back of your throat.

“Oh my God, oh my God...”

Looking to Karen, a whole range of emotions are flashing across her face as she tries to find the most comforting one. She fails.

“Oh, babe, oh God, that was horrible.”

“I know, I just, I forgot how to have a conversation, my voice got so high.”

“It did, I don’t know why you did that.”

“Neither do I, oh my God...” Putting your head in your hands, you then quickly lift it after a moment, pressing your lips together as you raise your hands. “Whatever. It’s fine. Let’s just, please, move past it. It’s over, I got it out the way, it was civilised, it’s done.”

“You’re right, you’re so right, please let’s forget it. Let’s drink.”

“Yes, please.”

You tap your glass against Karen’s as she raises it, and both take a long drink.

Oh, God.

That had been... so uneventful you don’t quite know what to do with yourself. In all the times you’d thought about how this exact moment might go, you’d never thought it would be uneventful. You’d imagined yelling, or crying, sometimes even laughing, but this...

Well. It was really like it had meant nothing at all.

You don’t know why it’s getting to you so much. You broke up with him. Of course he’d have moved on and left it all behind, God, you have as well. You’ve both lived your lives, gone through so many things and come out the other side and... A break up when you were teenagers kind of pales in comparison.

Yeah. It’s all fine. In fact, you know what, you’re relieved. It’s mature. It’s done. That’s it. You don’t have to be best friends with him again, for fuck’s sake.

Lowering your drink, you don’t realise your internal monologue has played out on your face, eyes widening and narrowing. Looking up, you find Karen and Callahan staring at you.

Licking your lips, you shrug. “It’s fine. It’s fine. Who wants another drink?”

You’re out of your seat and heading to the bar before they can respond. Karen sits back in her chair as she blinks, watching you stride away.

“Can someone just please tell me what’s going on?” Callahan bursts out, his hands raised.

“Oh, God, sweetie...” Karen sighs, reaching for her drink again. “... I have no fucking clue.”

—————————————————————————————————

24th December 1982

“Ughhh... Oh, God...”

It’s not your own groaning that wakes you, but that of someone else.

Cracking open an eye, you stare up at the ceiling as the groaning continues.

Uh, my mouth is so dry...

Licking your lips, you turn your head and find Karen on the other side of the bed, her hair bedraggled and spilling across the pillow, mascara halfway down her face, lipstick smeared. Turning her own head, she looks at you and groans again.

“Am I alive?”

“I think so,” you rasp, and she groans mournfully.

“Ughhhh... I don’t even remember how we got home...”

Closing your eyes, you scratch at your forehead, trying to remember yourself.

You’d gone to the bar, drank, drank a lot, maybe danced a little, spoken with your old classmate, Jessica? Justine? and then... Oh, what was his name again...

“Callahan,” you murmur, your throat aching. “Callahan brought us home.”

“Oh, yeah... Didn’t we ask him to turn on his lights?”

Your lips twitch as you recall how you’d both screamed with joy and whooped and cheered as he’d turned on the lights, waving your arms from side to side.

You snort and she glances at you. A laugh escapes you as you think about the absurdity of it all, and then she’s laughing, too, her cackle loud and delighted.

“Oh my God... Ugh, that was fun...” she sighs, her smile lingering.

“Yeah...” you murmur, stretching your legs out.

“We’ll have fun tonight, too.” She pats your hand, exhaling a breath. “If we just... If we just sleep ‘till noon, and then we can start preparing the house... Maybe even two, it won’t take long...”

You hum, closing your eyes, and, yeah, sleeping a little longer does sound like a good idea... Besides, when you’re unconscious, you don’t have to think about a certain embarrassing event that happened...

Perfect.

You focus on the softness of the bed as Karen snores lightly beside you, already fast asleep... Yeah... the joy of unconsciousness...

—

“... Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock... Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring... Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun... Now the jingle hop has begun...”

Adjusting a plate on the table, you straighten and blow out a breath, trying to stifle a yawn.

I really can’t handle a night out anymore.

Brushing your hands together, you turn, surveying the party that’s in full-swing. It’s only a couple of hours in but it’s already a success. People are talking, laughing, dancing, singing, eating, drinking, having a merry old time in general really. You feel more proud than you would have thought as your gaze drifts across the room.

You’d had to shake Karen awake at half one, both of you practically dehydrated and feeling not so fresh. After drinking copious amounts of water, showering, changing and finally eating, realising you were both starving, you’d flown around the house together, tidying, cleaning, cooking up food, putting drinks out and decorating. It had been another whirlwind but a wonderful whirlwind. You’d had so much fun, and hadn’t thought once about The Incident. An hour before the party was due to start, you and Karen had gotten ready, selecting slightly more festive outfits than the ones you’d worn last night.

Now, she’s in the kitchen, laughing at something a neighbour is saying, while Mike and Nancy talk in separate corners with some of their friends who have turned up, and Ted, who’d you’d finally bumped in to and greeted, was sat in his armchair, talking with a guy who looked slightly desperate to get away.

The doorbell chimes and you catch Karen’s eye, waving your hand and mouthing, “I’ll get it,”, as you’ve done so for the last few chimes.

You have to carefully push your way past people on the way to the foyer, which is surprisingly empty. Moving to the door, you grip the handle and pull it open, a smile already on your lips.

“Hey—”

You cut yourself off, pausing as you stare up at the man.

Hopper stares back at you, shoulders slightly hunched from the cold, hands in his pockets.

"Hi,” he says, glancing behind you briefly.

"Hey,” you repeat, your heart pounding.

... Whaaaaaat is he doing here?

As if he’s somehow heard your thought, he clears his throat and raises his eyebrows a little. “Uh, Callahan said we were invited.”

Oh, fuck, yes, you’d forgotten Karen had insisted he come, and you, jokingly, had said, ‘Hey, why not invite Hopper, too?’

Haha. Ha. What a hilarious joke. What a hilarious little joke that Callahan clearly hadn’t taken as a joke so it is now real.

Just as you realise you haven’t answered him, he clears his throat again. “Should I—”

“Oh, no, God, sorry, come in.” Holding the door open, you step back, gesturing with your other hand into the foyer.

He steps in, glancing at the party beyond before he turns to you as you close the door, looking up at him.

You’re staring again.

Swallowing, you point at the stairs. “Uh, coats are up here, I’ll show you.”

Before he can answer, you stride to the steps and ascend, gripping the bannister.

Ooh... Ooh, what’s happening... What am I doing...

You’ve shown the last few people up to where the coats are being kept, just in case you can’t see them out, but this is... This is rather intimate.

You hear him behind you, following you up, and you make yourself exhale a long breath to try and calm your heart.

Be an adult.

The coats are being kept where they usually would at a Wheeler party; the guest room, AKA your room. It’s one of the reasons you’ve been basically escorting people up to it, not wanting them to linger in there or have a stranger possibly go through your things.

Pushing the door open, you step in to the dimly lit room and gesture at the bed that’s piled high with coats, scarves and jackets.

“Just here, leave it anywhere.”

He stands in the doorway, hands back in his pockets.

“I’m actually not stayin’ long, I’ve got a shift soon.”

Your hands drop. “Oh. Okay...” You can’t stop a slight frown from crossing your features. “Why did you come up, then?”

Hopper meets your gaze, his jaw moving minutely. “‘cause I want to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

You’re sweating, your fingers flexing by your side.

Okay, here we go, he’s gonna yell at me and tell me everything he’s been holding back, here we go...

Shifting his stance, he leans against the doorframe, his gaze holding yours. “Listen, last night, I... I’m sorry I left so abruptly. That wasn’t, uh... polite of me.”

... Well, that’s not what you’d expected.

Your lips parted, you gaze at him. “Uh, no, no, no, it’s fine, I, I completely get it. It’s, uhm...” You pause, swallowing. Then, you smile faintly, and just say it, your voice dropping slightly. “... It’s weird, isn’t it.”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah, it is.” He lets out a laugh, and for some reason the sound of it warms you. “I was a little taken aback when I saw you, I was totally unprepared.”

“Oh, me, too.” You exhale a laugh, your smile easing. “I wanted to say so many things but my brain wasn’t quite connected to my mouth.” You laugh again, though it’s more nervous this time, because you know if you don’t say it now, you never will. Your tongue gliding across your lips, you raise your hands a little. “Look, Hop, I...” Fuck, it feels strange saying his name again. “... I’m sorry for how things ended between us.”

Hopper’s already shaking his head before you’ve finished, a slight dip to his brow. “Don’t be. I think it was the kick up the ass I needed, and I knew you were right. Took me a little while to admit that, but, yeah.”

“Still, I could have given us a chance—”

“We were kids,” he cuts you off gently with a light smile, shrugging. “Neither of us knew what we were doin’ or how to handle somethin’ like that.”

You snort. “I still don’t.”

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher. “Yeah, me, too.” Grazing his teeth over his lower lip, you watch him as he seems to consider something, your cheeks heating slightly at his intense gaze. “... Stop me if I’m, uh, treadin’ where I shouldn’t, but, and I’m just connectin’ the dots here, you said you’re stayin’ in Hawkins indefinitely, is that because something similar has happened?”

You give a faint smile, pointing a finger at him as you raise your eyebrows. “Yeah, you got me. I, uhm...” Here we go... “... I broke up with my fiancé. Or, he broke up with me, actually.” Your smile widens a little more. “Good connecting, you must be a great Chief.”

“Well, I do my best.” He looks sympathetic in a way that is mercifully not pitying. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. I feel like shit every day, but, it was for the best. He was an asshole. I just didn’t want to see it.”

“How come he did the breaking up, then?”

You fold your arms, exhaling a breath. “He met someone else. Didn’t even bother to hide it or save my feelings. Just told me.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it really did.”

“Still,” he nods his head at you, “you seem much better off.”

You feel a little proud at that, because, actually, you feel like a mess. “Thanks. Karen’s letting me stay here until I figure out what I wanna do. I don’t even know if I like my job anymore or if it’s just everything that’s going on making me feel like I hate it, or maybe I have hated it for a while and I just don’t want to admit that to myself either.” You catch yourself from continuing, releasing a sheepish laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m just rambling on now, you can go back down—”

“Nah, it’s okay, I like listenin’ to you.”

He says it so sincerely, holding your gaze, that you don’t quite know what to do. Biting at your lower lip briefly, you look away for a few moments, your fingers twisting together.

“Well... Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You can hear the smile in his tone, so you look up, and God...

You’ve missed that smile.

His expression is so soft, too, so gentle and...

No, no, no, no... No, it’s just because you’re sad and it’s Christmas and—

Clearing his throat, he leans an arm against the chest of drawers beside the door.

“Y’know, I... I’ve thought about you over the years, thought about reachin’ out. I heard from someone years ago that you were in New York and I... I told myself I was gonna look you up but... I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Didn’t know if you’d even want to see me.”

A smile pulls at your lips, your chest aching slightly. “I think I would have.” Biting at your lower lip again, you take a breath. “... I’ve thought about you, too. Sometimes I think about if I made the biggest mistake of my life in leaving you.”

He blinks, before quickly smiling, shaking his head. “Like I said, we were just kids. We didn’t know any better.”

“I know.”

You’re gazing at each other again, quietly.

Don’t.

Clearing your throat, you make yourself smile. “I’m so sorry, I should have offered you a drink, I—”

“Would you like to go out for a drink?” he asks, so swiftly that it’s as if he’d been waiting to. “So we can catch up properly?”

Staring at him, you feel something quietly ignite within you. He looks somewhat nervous, and for some reason it calms you instantly.

A softer smile returning to your lips, you nod. “I’d like that.”

One corner of his mouth lifts a little higher than the other as he straightens, his hands falling to his sides. “Good. Okay. I’ll call. I gotta head out now, sorry, I just wanted to drop by before my shift.”

He wanted to drop by... to see me.

Trying to contain your smile, you move towards him, heading for the door. “It’s okay, I’ll walk you out.”

“Thanks.”

You head down the hallway and stairs in silence, your heart fluttering wildly. You’re suddenly very aware of your body, and of his right behind you, and oh my God, when was the last time I felt this way?

Pulling the door open, you hold it for him as you smile.

“Well, I hope your shift goes okay.”

“Thanks.”

He’s stood before you, a hand in his pocket, and he doesn’t move.

Then, his other hand moves to rest on your arm gently as he lowers his head and presses a soft kiss to your cheek.

Oh, fuck.

His lips brushing against your skin makes your heart stop and every inch of your skin warm. It’s brief, far too brief, and when he pulls his head back to look at you, you desperately hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel.

Giving a slightly breathless smile, you hold his gaze. “Merry Christmas, Hop’.”

The smile he gives in return has you feeling a way you know you haven’t in years.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

—————————————————————————————————

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yellowcanna · 4 years ago

Text

The ZhongXiao Alliance

Summary:

“You requested the bard to get you porn?” Diluc questioned with a skeptical look on his face.

“No!” Aether shouted, waving his hands frantically in front of him. “It’s for…for Paimon!”

“WHAT?!” Paimon screamed off the top of her lungs before spinning around to see the pair of crimson eyes narrowing at her while the blue one twinkled with amusement.

"So he says." Kaeya gestured to the Honourary Knight.

“No! Paimon would never read these kinds of things! It’s adeptus Xiao!!”

“An adeptus from Liyue want you two to get porn?” The disbelief in the tavern owner’s voice was clear.

“This is all for Morax’s sake!” Venti pipped up from behind Aether, as if that would make the situation any better.

“Oh? Morax?” The Cavalry Captain raised a brow. "So it is the Geo Archon that wanted the porn?”

Aether buried his face into his hands. He should have never taken up on Xiao's request. No, before that, he shouldn't have taken Zhongli's request.

This whole mess started when Zhongli confessed to Xiao in the wrong order, starting with sex.

Now, it's up to one traveller, one emergency food, and one bard to make things right...by getting Xiao a guide to sexual intercourse.

Rating: 18+

Genre: Mutual pining, comedy, miscommunication, romantic fluff, smut, yaoi

Pairing: Main Zhongli/Xiao, side Aether/Venti, hint of Kaeya/Diluc and Xingqiu/Chongyun

Story type: Multi-chapter

Beta’d by: Amberowl123

中文 Chinese Translation available by: Yejet

╔ ✦✧✦ ═════════════╗

Available on AO3!!

╚═════════════ ✦✧✦ ╝

MAIN NEXT ▻

CHAPTER 1 - ZhongXiao Alliance, Dispatch!

The Guardian Yaksha does not dream.

Perhaps it was his punishment for devouring the dreams of so many innocent people, but Xiao never dreamed—not since the Archon War. Even sleep was something he did scarcely. Whenever he closed his eyes, all that came was the painful memories that haunted him even to this day.

Xiao had just returned to Guili Plains after the battle with Osial when a weird drowsiness crept up to him. Instead of fighting it, he simply closed his eyes and welcomed the sensation. When he opened his eyes once more, he was standing above the clouds with the sunset sky surrounding him.

Standing before him, was a man with long raven hair tied behind his back and eyes in the colour of Cor Lapis. This was a form that Xiao had not seen in many, many years. It was the Geo Archon’s real form—the form he always used during the war.

“My lord,” Xiao bowed deeply.

“Xiao,” Rex Lapis smiled warmly at him. “It seems you’ve already figured out.”

“I had my suspicions when I saw the Sigil of Permission.” Xiao explained calmly. “It was perfectly replicated, but the power imbued within was different than yours. The Sigil of Permission has not appeared in many centuries, it’s unthinkable for it to suddenly appear right after Rex Lapis' death, let alone one so perfectly replicated that even the adepti were fooled.”

“And that is how you knew of my plans and went along with it…” The raven-haired man let out a deep chuckle. “I expected nothing less from you.”

Xiao hesitated before straightening and stared into the archon’s gentle eyes. Every time Xiao saw those eyes, he couldn’t help but remember how they once looked during the Archon War. Back then, Rex Lapis was ruthless towards his enemies, sealing gods one after another with his mighty spear. His eyes were cold, reflecting only little warmth for those who he called friends and comrades. During that time, there was no room for gentleness or compassion.

It was a time of kill or be killed.

However, as the years went by, Xiao was keenly aware that every time they met, the hardness in his archon’s eyes would soften little by little—like the sharp edges of rock being smoothed by the waves known as time.

“Was the result to your satisfactory, my lord?”

“Yes.” The archon folded his hands behind his back. “And there is no more need for formality, Xiao. Rex Lapis is now a thing of the past. With the death of Rex Lapis, all have come to an end.”

Xiao stiffened and his cat-like eyes dilated even further. “My lord…I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Xiao, the age of adepti is over,” Rex Lapis said, gaze softening at the Yaksha that had been by his side for so long. “Your duty as the Conqueror of Demons has been fulfilled. You have witnessed it yourself, have you not? The people of Liyue no longer need the protection of the adepti.”

Xiao didn’t speak. While he couldn’t deny that, he also couldn’t accept being told his duty was fulfilled like this.

If so, then what else was he good for…?

“Xiao.”

A hand touched his cheek and Xiao felt a weird flutter within his gut. Despite being a dream, the hand felt warm even through the black leather glove. He let the hand guide his head up and was startled by how close they were. If this was not a dream, Xiao was certain he would be able to feel the god’s breath on his face.

“I wish for you to lay with me.”

Xiao’s jaw fell slack. His pure yellow eyes stared at his archon’s serious face, yet despite his shock, he still mustered the ability to answer.

“Ah…yes.”

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

“…Yes? Yes?!” Paimon squawked. She and Aether sat across the archon by the name of Zhongli, both of them staring at him with their mouths wide open. “Just like that?!”

“Yes?” Zhongli answered, setting down the cup of tea he was sipping on.

“Wait, wait, hold on! Did you just…did you just ask Adeptus Xiao to—!!” Paimon wasn’t able to finish since she bit her tongue in her rush to get the words out. She was jumping up and down in midair, hands slapped over her mouth with a pained expression twisting her face.

Aether quickly handed her a napkin before glancing back to the funeral parlour consultant. “Uh, Zhongli…” he began, still trying to wrap his head around what the god had just told them. “You and Adeptus Xiao are dating?”

“Dating?” Zhongli’s brows furrowed in confusion. It took him a while to understand what that word meant. “You are referring to courtship?”

“Courtship?”

“For adepti, our relationships work differently than humans. We do not undergo dating as mortals call it.”

“Is there a difference?” The blond blinked.

“For adepti, we choose our partners based on compatibility. We imbue our power within an item and give it to the party we are interested in. The other party will then choose whichever gift they felt is compatible to them. Once they accept a gift, it means they are willing to become a pair with the sender.”

“So…what you’re saying is when they accept a gift, then they're pretty much married?!” Paimon gaped.

“Well, that is one way to put it, though there are ceremonies needed to be performed in order to complete courtship…”

“Have you and Adeptus Xiao performed the ceremony?” Aether inquired.

“Regretfully, we have not.” Zhongli sighed. “Due to my responsibilities as the Geo Archon, there were many things I am unwilling to tie Xiao down to. Even if I didn’t ask, he will still take on my burden as his own, and that is not something I wish to see. I want nothing but for him to live freely so I told him to wait until the time of Rex Lapis is no more.”

“And now that you’re not Rex Lapis anymore, you’re going to tie the knot!” Paimon was finally able to put everything together.

The corner of Aether’s lips twitched at his travel companion’s words. Would asking someone to go to bed with them be considered tying the knot? Retorts aside, Aether was happy for both Zhongli and Xiao. While Aether may not know Xiao as much, the way Zhongli’s features soften when he spoke of the Yaksha showed just how much he loved the other.

“Which is why I like your help, as unfortunately, I am inexperienced in such a field.” Zhongli looked up at the pair. “I am lost as to what gifts I should prepare, so I hope I could ask you for suggestions.”

“Aren’t you two together? How could you not know what he likes?!” Paimon looked at the man with judging eyes.

Zhongli smiled softly, not the slightest bit offended by Paimon’s words. “You are right. That is a fault on my end.”

“Uh…Paimon didn’t mean anything by that,” Aether hurriedly said while nudging his floating companion.

“What? Paimon didn’t say anything wrong!”

“Paimon!”

“It’s alright,” Zhongli chuckled, looking directly at the blond. “Can I trouble you to find out what Xiao likes for me? I would ask him myself, but he may become suspicious if I do.”

“I don’t mind, but wouldn’t it also be suspicious if we seek him out just to ask what he likes?” Aether brought up this issue worriedly.

As though waiting for him to say that, Zhongli reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch, setting it on the table. “You can tell him that I asked you to deliver this to him. Oh…and Paimon, please don’t eat it.”

“Hey! What do you take Paimon for?!” Paimon snapped, cheeks puffing in anger.

“What is this?” Aether took the bag and smelled the strong scent of medicine coming from the pouch.

“It is painkillers.”

“Painkiller?” Aether’s golden eyes widened at the pouch in his hand, then to Zhongli. “Is he hurt?”

“No, but at times he suffers from pain that can only be eased by this medicine. You can find Xiao at Guili Plains. Call his name and he will come to you.”

Aether nodded, not asking anymore on the painkillers and put it into his bag. With that, the two outlanders set out to Guili Plains.

The trip took half a day, but they managed to arrive by sunset. They found a nice meadow free from monsters and people before Aether sucked in a deep breath and shouted Xiao’s name at the top of his lungs.

He didn’t even finish screaming out the last syllable when a gust of wind nearly knocked him off his feet.

“Enough. I can hear you just fine without your hollering,” a familiar cold voice spoke from behind.

When Aether turned around, he was greeted by the sight of the green-haired adeptus, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and his face perfectly neutral without an ounce of emotion.

“Adeptus Xiao!” Aether smiled happily.

“It’s been a while!” Paimon waved. Ever since they fought together against Osial, Paimon’s image of the aloof adeptus had greatly improved.

“So it has,” Xiao acknowledged before his eyes shifted to Aether. He tilted his head by a fraction, yellow eyes scanning over the blond like a curious cat. “You have something for me.” The words that came from his mouth wasn’t a question, but a firm statement.

“Oh, yes!” Aether reached into his backpack and pulled out the medicine from Zhongli. “We were told to deliver this to you. And also, thank you for saving my life back then, Adeptus Xiao.”

“You were aiding us in the battle to protect Liyue, it is only natural,” Xiao replied, taking the bag of medicine. He stared at the pouch for a long time, seeming to be thinking over something before speaking in a quiet tone. “Did Rex…did that person tell you to relay anything to me?”

“You mean Zhongli?” Aether asked.

“Zhongli…I see, so that is the name he is using now,” Xiao mumbled.

Aether thought Xiao looked a bit off just now, but this was also a good chance for him to start a conversation. “So Adeptus Xiao, since you and Zhongli are together, what—”

“What?” Xiao’s head instantly snapped up, eyes dilated as they locked dangerously on the blond. “Who told you such preposterous thing?!” He snarled, looking as though he was ready to rip whoever that spoke those words to shreds.

“Wait! Wait! C-calm down!” Paimon panicked. “We didn’t mean anything by that!”

“Y-yeah!” Aether quickly tried to back track. He didn’t know why Xiao was suddenly so angry, but he needed to hurry and calm the situation. “I thought maybe you two are, considering—”

“Considering Zhongli asked you to sleep with him!” Paimon finished for Aether who wanted to shove an entire Sticky Honey Roast into her mouth so she couldn’t speak for a while. He was going to put it in a better way, but she went ahead and said it straight out like this!

Thankfully, Xiao had swiftly collected himself again and the pressuring aura around him faded away.

“I don't know how much you know of him," the adeptus began, "but he was the one who freed me from my suffering and bestowed the name Xiao upon me. Disrespect him again and there will not be a next time."

Disrespect?

Aether wanted to ask what he meant by that, but he knew it was best not to bring it up at the moment. If it came down to a fight, he was no match against the adeptus with his current powers.

“Then…you two…?” Aether trailed off, carefully eyeing Xiao in case he blew up again.

“I am simply chosen to be his bed partner, that’s all there is to it,” Xiao replied impassively, turning his head away to stare off into the distance.

“…Huh?” Aether and Paimon echoed at the same time, staring dumbfounded at the adeptus.

This…wasn’t what they were told?!

“Bed…partner?” Paimon gaped. “But Zhongli—hmph!”

Paimon struggled against the iron hold Aether had over her with one arm wrapping around her torso and the other firmly covering that big mouth of hers.

“What is it?” Xiao asked, lifting his eyes to look at them.

“Nothing!” Aether did his best to pull off a smile. “Paimon just ate something bad, don’t mind her.”

“…I see,” Xiao looked away again. It was either he didn’t notice their strange behaviour or didn’t care—it was quite obviously the latter. “Please tell him that I still need some more time. Allow me to have a week to prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” The blond didn’t know why, but he was suddenly getting a really bad feeling of all this. Xiao was clearly misunderstanding something here…or perhaps the one who misunderstood was Zhongli?

Either way, these two were obviously not on the same page.

Aether’s head was hurting from trying to put together the pieces of this situation. Weren’t Zhongli and Xiao dating, or court-shipping if that was even the right word? Why was Xiao talking as though he was just chosen to become Zhongli’s sex partner?

“Traveller, I would like to ask for your help.” Xiao suddenly said. “Naturally, I will compensate you for your trouble.”

“There’s no need for that! If it’s anything I could do, I’ll be glad to help!” The blond waved his hands in front of him—dropping Paimon in the process. The little fairy, pixie, dwarf—whatever she was—hit the ground with a pained cry before flying back up and shooting Aether a resentful look.

The blond secretly gave her an apologetic glance.

“I need you to gather twenty wild Cecilias,” Xiao requested, ignoring the two’s not so subtle interactions.

“Cecilia? From Mondstadt?” Aether and Paimon shared a look. Neither of them expects that Xiao would ask them to get anything from another nation.

“Yes.” There was a moment of pause before Xiao began to explain. “I would go there myself, but as an adeptus that once served Rex Lapis, I cannot cross into the other nation without the permission from the archon of that land.”

“I’m sure that tone-deaf—er, I mean the Anemo Archon! I’m sure he would mind though?” Paimon said.

“It's not a matter of whether the Anemo Archon would mind, but a matter of rules and regulations.” Xiao said sternly—as one would expect from a follower of the God of Contracts.

“That’s no problem. We were planning on visiting Mondstadt anyway.” Aether smiled.

“You have my gratitude,” Xiao turned to leave when he recalled something else. “There…is one other thing I want you to find for me.”

“What is it?” Aether asked and watched as Xiao pulled out a small bag. From the jingling sound inside, it was a bag of Mora.

“Oh! I knew you were different, Adeptus Xiao!” Paimon cheered, quickly taking the Mora from Xiao before Aether could.

“I want you to find a book,” Xiao explained. “I know little of Mora’s worth, if there’s not enough, come back to find me.”

“Of course! We’re more than happy to help!” Paimon weighted the Mora and was delighted by how heavy the bag was.

“Where did you get the Mora from?” Aether inquired. He didn’t mean anything when he asked this. It was out of pure curiosity because of all the gods he knew so far, all of them were broke, including the one who created Mora. The blond also highly doubted that Xiao would have a job considering that he was an adeptus who disliked mingling with humans.

“I got it from some Treasure Hoarders around the area,” was the response.

Aether sweatdropped at the thought of the adeptus beating up the Treasure Hoarders and robbing them of their wallets. No matter how he thought of it, there was something off about that image…

“Then that means it’s free Mora!” Paimon obviously didn’t share the same concern as Aether. “We happen to have a lot of connections with people who know a lot about books! What book are you looking for?”

“I need a book that teaches sexual intercourse.”

CLANG

The bag of Mora was dropped to the ground, creating a jingle of sound. The two stared at Xiao, wondering if they had heard his words properly. Surely Xiao didn’t say he needed a book about…

“Wha…what did you say?” Paimon laughed nervously while scratching the back of her head.

“I need a book that can teach me sex—”

“Okay, okay, we know what you need!” Aether frantically stopped the adeptus. “But um…why do you need that?”

“Rex—…my lord requested me to be his bed partner, but I have neither experience nor knowledge.” Xiao gritted his teeth as though it was something he should be frustrated over. Moreover, it was amazing he could say something like that with a straight face. “Since he called for me to become his partner, I cannot taint my body with anyone else to practice…”

“No, even if it didn’t matter you shouldn’t sleep around for something like that!” Aether instantly cut off the Yaksha’s dangerous thoughts.

“That’s right!” Paimon agreed, also extremely worried now. “Do you even know what Zhongli is asking you?”

“Of course.” The adeptus’ fine brows furrowed. He didn’t seem happy by Paimon’s question which was basically doubting whether or not he understood his archon’s intention. “Since he has summoned me to his bed, it is only natural that I am able to provide pleasure to him.”

“No, you’re getting it all wrong!” Aether tried to explain, but Xiao’s mind was already set.

“Once you find the items, I will meet you back here.” With that, he vanished in a flash of green light.

The two outlanders stared at the empty place where the adeptus once was, then to the bag of Mora lying on the ground.

Neither of them spoke the entire journey back to Liyue Harbour, fearing that the adeptus would overhear their conversation. It was only after they crossed through the gate and into the mass of people populating the city that they dared to speak.

“We have to find Zhongli! This is his entire fault! What courting?! They’re not even together at all!” Paimon shouted. She continued her rant, but soon noticed the lack of reaction from her travel companion.

“Aether? Aether!” Paimon shook the blond until he snapped out of thought and looked up to her.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Let’s hurry and find Zhongli!” Paimon urged.

“Hmm…but don’t you think it’s weird?” Aether wondered out loud. “How could two people have such different perspectives on their relationships?”

“That’s why we need to find Zhongli! C’mon! He should be at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.”

Aether nodded absentmindedly, thinking back to Xiao’s behaviour then to Zhongli’s. He recalled how happy Zhongli was and even though Xiao reacted negatively, that was only because he thought it was an insult to Zhongli.

While Aether wasn’t good at telling Xiao’s mood, the adeptus had stood there and spoke to them for a full fifteen minutes. Considering their previous interactions, the blond would say he was in a very good mood—some issues aside. That meant despite being troubled over Zhongli’s request, he was happy, right?

Though Aether had a feeling that happiness might be the fact that Rex Lapis asked something of him, not the detail of what was being asked.

Paimon was right. There was clearly a misunderstanding and they needed to tell Zhongli, but…

“No, let’s hold off on that.”

“What?!” Paimon looked at Aether like he was crazy. “But—”

“Let’s wait until we talk to Xiao again.”

With the situation of Stanley and Havria, Aether realized just how lonely these gods really were. If they tell this to Zhongli right now, there was no doubt that the archon would be crushed. If possible, he wanted to find a way for them to be happy. If he could talk to Xiao properly and let the adeptus understand the real situation, then maybe there wouldn’t be a need to tell Zhongli anymore.

“…Alright then.” Paimon agreed reluctantly. “But…where will we find that book?”

Aether stop in his track, face burning in red and the bag of Mora which was clutched in his hand felt unusually heavy.

“Looking for a book, my liege?” A voice suddenly called out to them, startling the two.

Aether spun around and was met by a familiar face he hadn’t seen for a while.

“Xingqiu!” The blond gasped, shoving the bag of Mora behind his back out of reflex before remembering there was no way anyone could tell what he was planning on buying with just this.

The teal-haired youth was standing there with a smile gracing his lips and a light blue parasol in his hands. “If you are looking for a book, I might be able to offer my assistance.”

“N-no, that’s alright!” Aether shouted, voice cracking in his panic.

“Yeah! It’s f-fine! We ugh…gotta go!” Paimon squeaked.

With that, the pair ran/flew off, leaving Xingqiu alone in the middle of the street, staring at their retreating forms.

“X-Xingqiu…”

“Ah, Chongyun!” Xingqiu turned to see his friend finally coming out of the old antique store. “Did you find it?”

“Yeah…” Chongyun hesitantly held up a book that was wrapped up in brown paper. His face was flushed in pink and he squirmed uncomfortably. Xingqiu kindly opened the parasol and held it over the boy’s head, blocking the strong afternoon light for him.

“I-if I read this out loud, w-will this really make that rumoured lecherous spirit to appear?”

“But of course!” Xingqiu said cheerfully before his face dropped into sadness. “Do you doubt me, dear Chongyun?”

“No, of course not!” Chongyun hastily replied, face burning even more. “B-but I—”

“Then let us go search for that evil spirit!” Xingqiu happily guided Chongyun away while desperately trying to stifle the urge to laugh…

On the other side of the city, Aether and Paimon were standing below the Adventurers' Guild, trying to catch their breaths when another voice called out to them.

“Hey! Over here!!”

They looked up to see Xiangling sticking her head out from Wanmin Restaurant and waving at them. Guoba was there too, peeking its head from behind the door frame.

“Xiangling!” Aether went over to greet the girl. “It’s been a while, how are you?”

“Couldn’t be better! I just got these new ingredients and I’ve been dying to try them out! How about a meal? I’ll give you a special discount!”

At the mention of a meal and the smell of food, the two were reminded how they hadn’t had anything since morning. They agreed and Xiangling immediately went to work and prepared a hearty meal for them. After finishing the delicious food, Aether finally asked the question he had been pondering over the entire lunch on how to ask.

“By the way, Xiangling…do you uh, know any place that sells books?”

“Books? If it’s books, Wanwen Bookhouse got lots,” Xiangling answered, stacking up the plates.

“Ah, no, I mean…uh…” Aether’s face burned, unable to continue on.

After weakly agreeing to go to Wanwen Bookhouse, he and Paimon left the restaurant with the promise to drop by another time. There was no way they could go to Wanwen Bookhouse, so Aether wandered around the town, looking at the shops yet none of them looked like they would sell the book he was looking for…

“Oof…!” Aether was so busy looking at the shops that he didn’t see the person in front of him until he walked right into him. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going!”

“That’s quite alright,” the man replied, and it was yet another voice Aether was familiar with. He smelled the scent of herbs and medicines before he looked up and saw the man who had an albino snake wrapped around his neck.

“Mr. Baizhu!”

“We meet again, dear customer.” Baizhu smiled down at him.

“What are you two doing snooping around?” The white snake asked, forked tongue darting out to taste the scent of the two outlanders.

“W-we’re not snooping!” Paimon shouted defensively.

“Relax, Changsheng was just making a joke.” Baizhu chuckled while patting the head of his snake. “Though you seem to be looking for something. I can help you if you like—”

“No, that’s fine, thank you very much!” Aether shouted before dashing off with Paimon in tow.

The man and snake watched the pair disappear down the street, confusion apparent on both of their faces.

“This is impossible!” Paimon cried after they stopped for a break at another corner of the city. No matter where they went, they kept encountering familiar faces. “How are we supposed to find anything for Xiao like this?!”

“That Xiao you speak of, could you be referring to the boy-adeptus?” A voice called from behind them.

Aether wasn’t even surprised at this point anymore. He glanced over his shoulder to see a purple-haired girl standing behind them with one hand on her hips and a bag in her other hand.

“Keqing?” Paimon looked as though she was going to cry—and those were not tears of joy “What are you doing here?”

“I was, uh, just buying some things!” Keqing stammered, seeming a bit embarrassed before coughing into her hand and steered the topic away. “Anyways, if you’re trying to find something for him, I can—hey!”

Keqing stared at the two that suddenly took off without any warnings, having no idea what in the world had happened.

In the end, it was decided that they wouldn’t find the book in Liyue. Considering the battle that occurred not long ago, Aether’s face was pretty much known to the civilians. There was no way they could secretly buy that kind of book while keeping their identities hidden.

In the end, they decided to go to Mondstadt.

Unfortunately, they were away for so long that they had forgotten that Aether’s face was even more popular and well-known there than in Liyue—especially amongst the knights. The moment they got back, they were greeted by all sorts of familiar faces and warm greetings that made it much harder to ask for that kind of book.

“Aether! Paimon! Great to see you two back! How was your travel?” Amber welcomed them with open arms, as usual.

“Well, it certainly has been a while. Words of your deed in Liyue have spread even in Mondstadt,” Kaeya commented with that mysterious knowing smile, as usual.

“If you want to drop by at the bar tonight, feel free to do so but alcohol will still be off the menu for you two.” Diluc said seriously with his arms crossed over his chest, as usual.

“Big brother Aether and Paimon! It’s been so long! Do you want to play with me?” Klee greeted, on the way to blast up the fishes in Starfell Lake, as usual.

"You've come at the right time. I have another experiment I need you to help me with," Albedo muttered while looking through his experiments, as usual.

“Oh my, so the cutie has returned,” Lisa giggled, slacking off from her work, as usual.

“Aether, Paimon, it is good to see you two back and safe. I’ve heard what happened in Liyue. For the Geo Archon to perish like that…” Jean sighed before her desk of paperwork, as usual.

“Through thou journey across the land, thou have finally come! Perhaps even cruel fate has deigned to smile upon me, through sin which courses through my veins!” Fischl spoke in that string of gibberish, as usual.

“Mein Fräulein means that she is happy to see you again, Aether, Paimon.” Oz translated his master’s words, as usual.

“Well hello—” Mona was broke, as usual.

With the sun slowly setting in the horizon, Aether sat on the fingertips of Barbatos’ statue, looking over the city with golden bangs covering his eyes. Paimon hovered next to him, being unusually quiet with her bangs hiding her eyes as well.

The two stayed like that for a long, long time, as though becoming part of the statue they were on. It wasn’t until a breeze blew by, carrying the melody of lyre that they reacted.

“Sadness is not a look that suits your face, especially one as yourself with such fair grace,” a gentle voice spoke through the melody.

Aether and Paimon slowly turned to see a barb dressed in green drifting down with the wind swirling around him and landed soundlessly in the statue’s palms.

“Will you tell me what trouble you so? Together, we can surely soothe your woe.”

“VENTI!!”

“TONE-DEAF BARD!”

“Ack!”

The two travellers pounced onto the Anemo Archon. Taken off guard, Venti was knocked onto his back and soon found himself drenched in tears…

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

“Pfft…AHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“HEY!” Paimon shouted, thoroughly offended that the god had the audacity to laugh after hearing their story. “Don’t take pleasure from our pain!”

“Sorry, but never would I thought for that Morax to…PUAHAHAHAHA!!”

“Stop laughing and help us think,” Aether groaned, burying his face into his hands.

“Alright, alright!” Venti wiped away his tears. “Tell you what, I’ll help you get your book!”

“Venti!” Paimon cheered, not even using the nickname to express her gratitude.

“Are you sure?!” Aether asked hesitantly.

“It’s just erotic book, no big deal about it!” Venti giggled at the red hue spreading over Aether’s cheeks. “Think of this as my way of helping out an old friend. It’s about time these two get together, I’d say!”

“Paimon doesn’t get it…are they together or not?”

“Well…hard to say…” Venti trailed off and noticed the disappointment on Aether’s face. “Oh don’t look like that! Even if they aren’t now, that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t get together in the future. I did notice how those two interacted during the Archon War. It’s a miracle they dragged it on for so long.”

“The Archon War?! Wasn’t that like, two thousand and six hundred years ago?!” Paimon gaped. “Exactly how long was he in love with Adeptus Xiao for?!”

“Ah, you might want to add another couple hundreds of years to that! The war didn’t finish in one day, after all~”

“Tone-deaf bard!”

Venti laughed at the pissed off Paimon before putting a finger to his lips and started to think back to the memories from so long ago. “Hmm…it’s been a long time since I saw Morax and Xiao even longer so I can’t say, but surely he feels the same towards Morax.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” Aether asked with worries.

“Well, there’s a saying that some love starts in bed!”

“You tone-deaf bard! You’re the worst!” Paimon shouted.

“Ah, calm down now!” Venti raised his hands to shield the small fists raining down on him. “That might sound wrong, but this is the best solution!”

“What do you mean?” Paimon finally stopped pounding on the god.

“It took over two thousand years for that old blockhead to lay everything aside and start thinking about relationships. How many more do you think will take for Xiao to come to terms with it? Rather than waiting another millennium, it would be quicker to let the misunderstanding grow and have them sleep together, no?”

“You’re not wrong, but the way you put it makes it super sketchy…” Paimon crossed her arms and stared flatly at the bard.

Venti chuckled, taking it as a compliment before his smile disappeared and his eyes drifted to the stars above. “Time is cruel after all. That’s why we should spend every moment treasuring the time we have.”

Aether stared at Venti. At this moment, the other felt very far away despite sitting right beside him. The blond thought back to the story Venti told them…the one about his old friend and couldn’t help but feel a prick of pain inside him.

“But we can’t be sure until we confirm Adeptus Xiao’s feelings.” Aether pointed out. If Xiao didn’t feel the same for Zhongli, then he wouldn’t want to go through with a plan like that. That would only end up hurting both Zhongli and Xiao.

“Hey Venti, do you know much about Adeptus Xiao?” Paimon asked, flying around them.

“Of course, for I am the one who gave him his Vision, after all!” Venti lifted his lyre up and ran his fingers over the strings, creating a soothing melody.

“Long, long ago, Liyue suffered many outbreaks of diseases due to the bodies of the archons buried beneath the land, eternally sealed by the Geo Archon’s spear. These archon’s souls were filled with bitterness and this bitterness manifested into monsters. They raged in forms of diseases, unleashing evil into the rivers and seas.

Rex Lapid summoned the illuminated beasts to purge the daemons from this world. These illuminated beasts with dreadful appearance and warlike temperament raged through the land to free the people of this curse. Within the armies of illuminated beasts, five stood out amongst the rest. They were Bosacius, Indarias, Bonanus, Menogias, and Alatus. These five were Rex Lapis’s personal guards, following him wherever he went to purge the plague. They were later known to the mortals as the Yakshas.”

“There are more Yakshas?!” Paimon’s eyes widened at the news. “Why didn’t we meet any other ones?”

“The Yakshas were guardians of Rex Lapis for years without measure, and the evils they vanquished were incalculable. Yet mighty though they were, the Yakshas were not beyond the torment that betides all who face war, and they became afflicted. Some were given unto their rage, others unto a madness which fear mongered.”

The melody slowed, taking a sadder tone.

“Many turned to the slaughter of their own, others were bewitched by shadows of the soul. After a millennium did fate present itself unto them, and it was such: three of the five perished, the fourth vanished, and all of the myriad shared the fate of the three or the fourth. The fifth alone prevailed, and the fifth was Alatus, the Golden-winged King.”

“Adeptus Xiao,” Aether whispered, eyes rounding at this realization. This was a story about Xiao!

“Wait, so Alatus is Adeptus Xiao and he is also the Golden-winged King?!” Paimon slowly put everything together. “But we didn’t see any wings on him?”

“Not anymore,” Venti sighed. “He lost his wings long ago. Alatus is nothing but the past. Xiao is his name now.”

He ran his hands over the strings a few more times.

“That one has endured much suffering. Even to this day, he carries a burden that was not his to bear. I will not dive too much into his past as it is not my story to tell, but Morax was the one who saved Xiao from a cruel fate. This was also why despite the countless contracts Morax has created, Xiao was the only exception.”

“Wait…you mean, Zhongli never made any contract with Adeptus Xiao?” Aether asked.

Venti nodded.

“The God of Contracts was known for making contracts and following everything to the contracts. It didn’t matter to him if they were friends or alliances, archon or Yakshas. Every single being that made a deal with him had to form a contract.”

“Even you, Venti?” Aether asked.

“Yep,” Venti whined. “Even me! Horribly paranoid he is, don’t you think? But Xiao was the only exception to all of that. Morax never made a single contract with him and whenever he asked Xiao for something, it was always requests. Because Morax was the one who saved him, Xiao devoted himself to serving the Geo Archon and never once said no to him. He was more devoted to Morax than those who were bound by contracts. Even if it is the most absurd request, Xiao will do it as long as it is Rex Lapis.”

Aether and Paimon groaned at the reminder of this misunderstanding between the two adepti. They certainly witnessed how devoted Xiao was to Rex Lapis…considering he was even willing to offer his body without questions.

“But it’s strange,” Venti brought a hand to his chin and frowned. “Xiao may be stubborn and cold sometimes, but he’s a sharp-witted one. I can’t imagine him misunderstanding the situation if Morax was even the slightest bit clear on his intention. I may not be an adeptus, but even I know how seriously they take courtships and Morax is the most traditional one of them all, so it's impossible for him to mess up on that. What exactly did that guy say to Xiao anyway?”

“Well, rather than what was being said, it’s more like the lack thereof…” Paimon grumbled.

“He asked Adeptus Xiao to sleep with him?” Aether recalled their entire conversation with the Geo Archon, and that was the only thing he could find that was mildly related to a confession.

“No, no, there’s got to be more,” Venti grumbled with full certainty. “The fact that Morax asked something like this means he thinks they are already in the middle of a courtship, so the problem must stem even further back in time. It seems we would need to have some more talk about this with Xiao.”

“We?" Aether turned to Venti in surprise. “You’re coming with us?”

“Morax is a good friend of mine and I have some responsibility towards Xiao. I’ll lend you guys a hand!” Venti winked.

“VENTI!!”

“TONE DEAF-BARD!!”

For the second time that night, Venti was thrown onto his back and drenched in tears—except this time, it was happy tears.

Thus the ZhongXiao alliance was formed.

MAIN NEXT ▻

#Genshin Impact fanfiction #genshin xiao #zhongli #xiao #zhongli x xiao #aether x venti #genshin impact fanfic #venti #aether #genshin impact

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bibliocratic · 4 years ago

Text

tread softly

S4 Canon Divergence + Mythological Creatures AU Mermaid!Sasha, Pheonix!Tim, Selkie!Martin

cws apply - see tags

Peter Lukas has always prided himself on the timing of his entrances.

He is not there, then he is. The ward slips colder, down into single digits. Martin gives a jerking shoulder-hunch motion when he notices his unexpected arrival, coupled with an intake of breath. No noise this time, no jumping, no explications of suddenness or surprise. Martin Blackwood takes well to both shock and silence with a delightful sufferance, and Peter is indulgently proud.

The lad is, as expected, by the Archivist’s bedside. Crone-backed, ringed with an satisfying corona of misery. It’s after visiting hours, but Martin likely hasn’t even realised that the gaze of the ward staff and orderlies has simply grazed past him when he came up, when he took his traditional post, when they do their rounds. Martin has not wanted to be noticed, so he won’t be.

Peter idly watches the machinery and tubes threaded though the Archivist like mechanical embroidery. This one seems eminently more worse for wear than Gertrude ever was. Stronger, though. Peter watches Elias’ chosen as he lies still and sedate for all he stalks the landscape of dreamers, and wonders if he might see the Eye’s favoured come to fruition in a way Gertrude never did.

All the more reason to talk to Martin, it appears.

“What do you want?” Martin says. Dulled, thick-throated. He’s wiping his face free from damp with his baggy jacket sleeves, glowering at Peter with a delayed annoyance, as if he’s interrupted some no doubt tender petition for waking. The antiseptic stench of the hospital worsens the tension in his bones.

He is perfect for their God. Peter’s so pleased the Archivist wasn’t so careless to have lost this assistant like he nearly lost both of the others. Elias told him that the Corruption had already sought to burrow into the debris of this lost soul, that Martin has taken the mantle of archivist well, while Beholding’s chosen was indisposed. And it is true that Martin’s gaze is more assessing than he would like. But Peter knows that Forsaken has long laced Martin’s lining with mist and dew-damp cold, filled his stomach with fog far longer than those petty chancers have tried to have him in their maw. That his God’s touch has been settling like thronging, subdued snow in place of Martin’s sealskin.

“I wanted to see if you’d thought about my offer,” Peter replies genially. Pushing his hands in his pockets, ignoring Martin’s radiating desire to be left alone.

Martin has. Peter doesn’t need Elias’ pretty little parlour tricks to know that Martin has likely thought about little else.

“I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Oh right!” Peter says after a moment’s pause. It visibly annoys Martin that it didn’t come to mind faster. “That spot of bother with the Flesh. All sorted now, I’m sure!”

“Why didn’t you do something to stop them?”

Peter crinkles his face in a deliberate confusion. Casting out his line.

“Why, what should I have done?”

Martin takes the bait with ease.

“It’s your job, isn’t it?” His voice pitches with accusation. His hands ball into fists, and he moves to standing, the chair complaining as it’s pushed back. “It’s your responsibility! You’re in charge now Elias is gone.”

“Thanks to you,” Peter replies smoothly. “And your companions seemed to do a good enough job. A few bruises here and there, a few near misses. Nothing they won’t heal from.”

Peter slides closer. Just a step. It makes his skin sing discordant at the proximity, but Martin stiffens, an anxious intake of air despite himself, and Peter knows he’s paying attention.

“I could ask you the same question,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you do something to stop them?” Peter doesn’t sound judgemental. He doesn’t have to, Martin will paint on layers of meaning without overdoing this particular nuance of his game. “It was very impressive, watching you all. They all held their own very well. Except you. You could argue I suppose, that it’s not the same. That you’re not like the mer or the firebird or the sphinx, no added little genetic extras, and you don’t get any boost from any old helpful Power like that police officer, or the angry one touched by the Slaughter. You’re just Martin. And that’s… that’s the problem, isn’t it? Just Martin. Nothing to offer in the fight, no way to protect them. Holding them back. They could have been hurt, and you wouldn’t have been able to do, well, anything at all.”

“I…” Martin says, and Peter takes another step.

“The Extinction is a pressing threat. There isn’t time for me to wait while you finish your grave-side widow routine. I need you to help me, and it would be only fair, in return, for me to help you.”

“Oh, what, you can fix me then?” Martin snaps.

“Not at all,” Peter says. Smiling, because he is so funny, with his rage sputtering in a fog that seeks to tamp it flameless, stumbling headlong and blinded into the conversational pitfalls Peter’s dug behind him. “No, no, I’m afraid you’re broken, Martin. I speak from experience when I say you’ll never grow your skin back.”

Martin freezes. He looks Peter up and down like he’s expecting to see something different, the scales fallen from his eyes, but this is the only skin Peter has worn for so long now, and he endures the slightly prickling gaze of Martin’s Eye-touched observation.

“You… You were – ?”

“A long time ago. Before the Lonely granted me a better shroud to cloak myself in. It is not a selfish God, Martin. It offers gifts, or payment, if you prefer that way of understanding it, to those who work in aid of its ends. Benefits that could protect your friends, should something as unfortunate as the Flesh’s assault occur again.”

“And what about Jon?”

“He’ll wake up. Or he won’t.” Peter replies cheerily. “Either way, you can’t do anything for any of them like this.”

Martin gives him a scowl. Peter lets it pass over him. He knows, before Martin even opens his mouth, that he’s won.

Sasha avoids the sea.

She does not know why. Its pull is no lesser through her absence. She has dreams of sinking and never coming up for air, and she does not know if it is serenity in the ceaseless drop or despairing surrender. She marks the high days and festivals of her people alone and unremarked upon, speaks to her landward kin infrequently and vaguely. She needs to be here, she tells herself harshly. She can’t go off when there’s so much to do, when she’s in the process of losing so much. One of her family cold and vanishing, one breathing through a machine, and one… he died, died properly, and although he came back purged of something poisonous, the shrapnel scarring of collapsed masonry on his skin and the reddest, warmest wings sprung from his back, this does not settle her terrors.

She cannot leave. Not when she could lose sight of her splintering shoal so easily. Not when she’s unsure the temptation to dive down and out, deeper, further away, wouldn’t ensnare her to cowardice.

She finds the first scales in the shower. It’s a myth that any water will have the skin of her legs go slick, then bumpy, fusing into one muscled tail with her scales folding outwards. She can have showers and baths without impact. It’s the sea, that is the essential component. The same for most deepwater kin. Not the sea, maybe, or exactly, but what it represents in the change. It’s something about floating out into endless space clad only in human skin and human lungs and trusting not to drown. The letting go of one form with the tide and permitting the waves to bring forth another.

Her scales are dimmed, like they’ve smudged. Their colour diminished.

It’s not a molt. Her people don’t. Tim does, normally annually. Before they travelled to Yarmouth, he’d been dropping feathers around the office almost continually with stress. Nesting, and growing in new and painful sections of wing, snapping with a yo-yoing temper.

Tim notices. Maybe because he’s the only one left. Basira is holed up somewhere of course, as is Melanie, but it’s not the same. They weren’t here before, they don’t have the context for how much their group is diminished, falling to pieces slowly like her own skin is.

They’ll be visiting Jon later. She hasn’t seen Martin in weeks.

Tim approaches slowly. Looks at the flakes of blue in her hand. Understand flowers gently in his eyes, and he reaches out and touches her arm, and she forgot the world could manifest in ways other than hurtful.

“You OK there, Sash?” Tim asks.

“I don’t know,” she replies. “I don’t… I just… When did it all go so wrong?”

“I dunno,” Tim repeats, and he doesn’t move away and she doesn’t want him to. “God, I – I don’t know, Sash.”

Jon’s clothes are dirt-clotted, ripped up by the grind of rock, and holding him tarnishes Tim’s feathers grey, smudges the pattern on his t-shirt into obscurity. His teeth are chattering, goosebumps bobbling up his arms and making the dark hairs up his arms stand on end. Tim suspects it’s more shock than cold.

Sasha brought him a glass of water, holding her palm under it because Jon’s long-fingered grip is so shaky it’s sloshing the water up the sides.

“Told you the rib was a shit idea, huh?” Tim says. Played as a joke and deliberately shorn of any accusation. He breathes in-and-out and Jon follows the rise and fall, and it benefits both of them. Tim’s getting better at control. He’s had to. His anger grows in like pinfeathers but so does his grief these days, a full plumage of emotions he is learning to deal with.

Jon coughs up something that could be agreement, but is mostly dirt and grave soil over Tim’s shirt.

You should have waited for us, Tim thinks but does not say because there would be too much teeth in it, and Jon’s skin is already whittling down to skeletal. We asked you not to go, we wanted a better plan, why didn’t you wait.

You could have died, down there in the dark, and we wouldn’t have even had a body to mourn, he does not say.

We love you, you idiot. We love you and even that wasn’t enough to stop you leaving, he does not say.

We’re already losing Martin, he does not say.

A room full of looping, chattering, overlapping tape recorders. Neither Tim nor Sasha stacked them, and Jon would not have thought to.

It should be a reassurance, that Martin’s been here.

God, Tim hopes he knows what he’s doing.

Sasha rubs at Jon’s back, helps him sip another small trickle. Tim’s wings, voluminous and unwieldy, knock over recorders in a clattering collapse as he scoops them around to shield them both. Against the balmy heat Tim’s throwing out, Jon’s shivers gradually subside.

“Daisy?” Jon murmurs. His teeth are grimy with soil.

“She’s with Basira,” Tim replies.

Sasha’s picked up the rib that’s dropped out of Jon’s clenched palm. Wiping the grime off it and staring at it without clear expression.

“Why, Jon?” she asks.

“I wanted to help,” Jon says. His words small, like he’s embarrassed that he even thought of it. “Even if it was one person. I wanted to be able to do something good for a change.”

“You could have died,” Tim says.

Jon’s horrible flat chuckle scrapes over his lips.

“I’m not sure I can anymore.”

“Yeah…” Tim replies subdued. He glances at the red daggers of his feathers and thinks he understands that.

“I wonder what it would take,” Jon says idly, slurring with exhaustion, and Tim grips him closer and hopes he never finds out.

Martin doesn’t react when Sasha sits down near him. The breeze, a vicious snagging chill tussles his hair, some wisps twisting into nothingness like smoke from an extinguished candle. She is still getting used to this Martin, or perhaps the Martin he never let others see. The toned-down stillness of him, the undisturbed waters of his expression. His skin not quite solid, the patches that have returned pale, sickly-pallored in the softening dim of moonlight. The rest of him is a coalition of fog, a hazy motion to his image like he’s wave-rocked, smoked out.

Long minutes pass. Sasha sits down cross-legged. The waves ripple up the stones that make up the strip of beach surrounding the loch, and they’re hard and uncomfortable under her.

“I can’t swim, you know,” Martin says finally. The sea is louder than he is, and he can make himself so quiet these days.

“No?”

Sasha keeps her tone light, inquisitive without intensity. Martin shakes his head, and his image lags, skipping disjointed, like his connection is poor.

More silence. Sasha doesn’t know what she should say, where Martin’s thoughts are at. She scratches behind the base of her gills, rubs at the dorsal fins sitting mostly flat under her sleep shirt.

“I didn’t live too far from the sea,” Martin continues. Looking at the wavering mirage of his hands without comment. She doesn’t even know if he recognises her presence. “We had Liverpool about an hour away. Even Blackpool, I guess. My primary school had a swimming club, where they’d pack them off to the big leisure centre on a coach afterschool. Kids’d get these little medals for managing like five metres, or ten, fifteen. But there was a small fee, and Mum said…” He snorts out a dismissive breath and his face twists, and neither of these actions suit him. “Doesn’t matter. I never went, and I never learnt, and that was that.”

“You could always come swimming with me?” Sasha proposes slowly. Lost in the swell of this conversation, why Martin’s talking about the sea, what this has to do with anything. She wishes he’d look at her.

Martin doesn’t answer immediately. He might not have even heard her.

“I told Peter, and he said that made it even better. That it was a such a – ” he says the word with a sneer, the words sharp-toothed in his mouth “ – gift, that I’d never even had the opportunity to know what I would miss, not even a memory to embellish or to sour. That there was so much that could root in absence. He said I should be grateful.”

“Peter Lukas said a lot of shit,” Sasha says.

She shuffles closer to him. Puts her hand on his knee.

“Whatever he told you was bollocks, you know that right?”

Martin blinks. After a moment, his hand joins over hers. His image grows denser, less likely to be stolen by the midnight air.

His eyes, fixed out on a horizon point in the slick dark of the loch, are still distant.

“I just wish I understood why she did it,” Martin murmurs.

“Who?”

“I did some research. After Elias… after I found out. I couldn’t have been the only person, and it’s rare enough but there are – help groups… you know, therapists that specialise in that kind of stuff. But I didn’t… I couldn’t face going to one. I thought that… knowing what was so wrong with me would make it easier, but it didn’t. All my life, I…. I was stupid enough to think it might be something I could fix. If – if I changed myself enough, if I said the right things, loved the right people, then I might… that someone could fix me. But it can't be fixed. That’s what all the leaflets said. That it was best to think of it like a permanent injury. Like having a stroke, or some sort of brain damage or something like that. Something irreparable.”

“Martin, sweetheart…” Sasha starts. She doesn’t understand. The flotsam of Martin’s speech grows erratic and he’s started shivering, and it’s no wonder, dressed in a t-shirt, pyjama trousers and some thick socks.

“Do you know much about selkies, Sash?” Martin powers on. Chattering teeth and goosebumps and it’s like he’s drawing something out of himself, some infection long done its damage. “Not many of them left, and they don’t usually venture landward like some of the other deepwater species. They mate for life apparently. Staunchly social communities, and some of them can’t… can’t cope, if they lose their group, or their partner. They take off their pelt, and just swim off to drown. A-and those help groups and therapists, those people who had theirs stolen, or destroyed… they’re, god, they’re all terminal. They last six months, maximum. Because it kills them, losing it. They waste away and they die. And here’s me…” Martin’s face twists again, and it’s bitter and angry and despairing all at once, “and I just get to keep going.”

“Selkies…?” Sasha says. “Why are you….”

She trails off in a gradually dawning horror.

“Martin?”

“She burnt it,” Martin says, his tone stringing higher now, distress sweeping in like a squall to break up the unnatural apathy in his voice. “I don’t think she knew what it would… I mean, I don’t know, maybe she did, maybe she wanted me gone just like dad, I don’t know, and I’ll never know because I can’t ask her why. I didn’t even… it was so long ago. I was sick and then I got worse and it was awful and I didn’t understand why I was so ill, why everything hurt just so much… and after, when I was better, Mum said it was appendicitis. I believed her. Course I did, why wouldn’t I. I didn’t know… not until Elias, and I’ll never know what I’ve lost, or why it didn’t kill me, maybe it was because I was so young, or because it’s only from one side of the family, I don’t – I don’t know! I’ll never know! It’s a whole part of me that she just… she just took a-a-and…”

Martin’s back bows like whalebone. He takes long shuddering breaths like his words are keelhauling across his lungs.

Sasha’s never heard of a selkie with only half their soul. She can’t imagine, what it would do to someone.

She moves in front of Martin and he moves forward against her like a wave crash. He’s taller and heavier than her, and the impact pushes her back momentarily before her arms catch him.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” she says, “You can do it, breathe.” She holds him so surely, and she always will. And he starts crying then, the first time since Jon was in hospital, and he won’t or can’t stop shivering, and it is horrible to hear every emotion inside him claw itself back from the brink.

She keeps telling him to breathe, and he keeps following that instruction through sniffling and sobbing and broken-voiced confusion, and she counts it as a small victory nonetheless.

Jon’s mouth cannot scream.

Tim’s in the next room, the kitchen, drying plates and bowls and cutlery, within shouting distance, and he’d be here in a moment – he’d help if only Jon could speak a word other than his unbidden, unwanted recitation.

Jon’s mouth doles out its terrible missive, and he doesn’t not feel like a person as Elias rolls out the triumphant red carpet of his plotting and scheming, the self-satisfied weave of his grand finale. And no, he’s not a person, not for a long time now; he’s a catalogue, a testimony, an archive, and he would never have chosen this.

His hands scrabble at his throat, and his eyes are blurred with tears, his vision obscured, but it does not seem to matter, for his skin ripples and sloshes like an inkwell and a hundred eyes swell and pop and inflate again like bubbles against his skin.

Someone else screams. And the multitude of Jon’s eyes are newborn, fractal-imaged, gummed up with a feast of far-reaching horror all witnessed by him, overseen and devoured in his sight, and it is hard to translate what his original set of open, weeping eyes see. There is motion. Commotion. There are apologies being spoken in his ears, fervent, petitionary, but he is hearing the rising insistent thrum of the summoning and it is as sickening as it is beautiful. Someone is holding a hand hard over his mouth, the grip painful and punishing but even then the words burble out through the cracks. Another hand clamps over his eyes, and he shrieks and thrashes as his words gather to a crescendo.

A hand tears the paper from his grip. There is an acrid whoosh of smoke. Jon drops like the rigging of a ship being torn down. The hands at his mouth and eyes lower quickly to loop around his waist, catch him and hold him up.

Jon sees Tim, wide-eyed and shimmering with terror even as his skin burns gold and his feathers shine and there are only sooty flakes left of Jonah’s statement, scattering down from his palms.

He thinks it’s Martin behind him. Jon folds further, all his weight pitching forward and Martin’s forced to come down with him as he retches the leftover words in his mouth; king of a ruined world, he vomits up with bile and ink, and it splashes with a disgusting slop over the living room floor.

Sasha’s partially webbed hands are holding back his hair as he hacks and gags, his lips stained black, his stomach heaving as he chokes on everything that comes up, his stomach roiling with an overwhelming nausea. Conduit of fear, he brings up, dribbling from his lips like paper pulp.

After a long while, it’s over. Sasha carries him to the bathroom, and helps him clean up, although Jon has little memory of it.

He wakes, feeling like a shipwreck, and Tim is there. Sat nearby, his head in his hands. His fingertips stained with ink and soot. He can hear Martin and Sasha talking in low tones nearby.

They're still here. Even now, he’s surprised that they haven’t left him.

And Jon has no words remaining, so his body betrays him with airless, silent tears, at all he could have wrought upon this world, at all the suffering he could have brought to their door to still be granted forgiveness for.

It is not the end. It is an interlude, a reprieve. In some ways a kindness, and in others, waiting is its own cruelty.

They’ve bought blankets to the beach in order to cushion the hardness of the stones rounded by tide and time. It’s the first time they’ve gotten Jon to come outside for more than a few minutes. The scratches up the column of his throat healing. His voice still damaged, scratchy and scraped from misuse.

They’ll have to be moving on soon. To make plans for whatever future they need to avoid.

She sits up, and stretches out from where she’s been lying against Tim’s thigh. Glances at Jon, barely four metres away on a separate towel. Grey-haired and tired-eyed. Martin’s holding his hand, the left one crinkled by burns, as they talk about something treasured for its meaningless. Despite everything, Jon’s face practises relearning its smiles, even as he touches tentative at the marks around his neck, the bruising at the edges of his mouth.

The tension has not faded from Tim’s shoulders. His plumage sharp and strange even now. Her own scales patchy and bare, whole sections that have not grown back.

She considers her battered but striving shoal, and wants to show them that their past is not all there will ever be. That there will be an after-this, whatever that looks like. She wishes they spoke her tongue, so she could gift them names, new names, for the things they have become, this things that they have survived, and all that has survived them.

“Martin!” she shouts over, a sudden inspiration seizing her. “Want to come in the water with me?”

Martin’s expression barrels through at least three iterations before it hovers between wary and uncomfortable.

“I – er… I might just be better off here, actually.”

“No pressure,” she tells him, and she means it, for all she remembers that he has never had the chance to know the sea as she has, to feel his whole weight held up by the water. “But I am a pretty spectacular swimming teacher. I promise I won’t let go.”

Martin, to his credit, thinks about it. Gnaws on his lip, stares away from her and at his knees. Next to her, she can feel Tim bite back an enthusiastic declaration of encouragement for fear of spooking him.

Martin stands gingerly, and she is so proud of him.

“I haven’t got a costume,” he says.

“Your boxers will be fine.”

“We want something pretty to look at, show us those legs, Martin!” Tim says. He times the tone playful, the perfect balance of joking and complementing, and it works, with Martin’s blushing and ‘shut it Tim’ distracting him from the enormity of his decision as he neatly folds up his jeans, and takes off his shoes and socks. Sasha peels off her long skirt, rolls down her tights. She dislikes shoes on principle, and rarely wears them.

The rocks dig into the soles of Martin’s feet as they waddle down to the shore, slow going and interspersed with wincing.

She takes his hand as they stop, stand a foot from the border between land and sea.

“We’ll just go a little way out,” she promises. “The water’s fairly calm but for your first time…”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Martin whispers. He hesitates, and she waits for his decision. And then, he creeps forward, and she follows. He swears vehement as the water hits his toes, and he almost balks to feel the frigid temperature, but he pushes forward, his swearing getting more and more creative the further he walks out against the tide.

From the headland, someone cheers, likely Tim.

“Don’t look at them,” Sasha says. “Come on, this is all you, ok?”

Her legs unfuse into her tail, and she shivers out a feeling like cramp, luxuriating in the sensation against her skin.

Martin tentatively wades out. He’s tall, but there’s a point where he stops, knowing to move forward means his feet won’t touch the ground.

“A little further, yeah?” Sasha encourages, and he nods jerkily, a frantic up-and-down, his expression petrified. “You can do this. Don’t look at the water. Look at me.”

Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she pulls him slowly into deeper waters. His fingers are pressing rounded marks into her forearms. His leg gestures are sloppy, thrashing, and at one point he dips below the surface with the disturbance he’s making, and he splutters as he resurfaces, surging up, eyes bulging in a betrayed panic. She continues to reassure him and doesn’t let go as they stop and simply float, the shoreline easily in sight.

“How does it feel?” she asks.

“Wet,” he grumbles. Clearly concentrating, he treads, kicking out in a motion that gradually finds rhythm.

For a long while, it is them and the sea. The waves rub up against the bare patches in her scales, but the reminder is not painful.

Martin’s breathing calms. His terror recedes, and he looks down at the obscured water under them.

“Can we go out a bit further?”

She’s not doing as much pulling now. She shows him how to use his arms to push himself through water, and stopping and starting, correcting his gestures and posture and breathing as they go, they drift further out before stopping again, hanging suspended above the depths.

Martin smiles at his own unexpected success. He lets out a long, satisfied sound like something’s loosened in him for the first time.

His eyes, completely black, reflect the dour and overcast midday sun.

“Martin, your eyes.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Martin says, but no – he doesn’t say, he barks, and then gasps, and then barks again, stunned, unsettled. He doesn’t look upset. He’s bitten his lip with his too-sharp teeth that now line his gums, and he touches the sharp pain it has caused with incredulity, his still human fingers marking out the sensation of the new.

“What’s happening?” he asks and Sasha grins, and says “I don’t know, Martin, I don’t know” and he’s splashing, a seal without skin, something entirely himself, shivering minutely in the cold shock even as his smile shows off his pointed teeth. He barks again, the sound almost jolted out of him as he figures out how it works, and she trills in delight, and it sets him off grinning and kicking. And for the moment, for this moment, the Lonely is banished entirely landbound, and there is only them treading water, surrounded by the endless sea and trusting they will not drown.

They have to go back to land eventually. The waves around them start to wash choppy, the sky colours grey with the surety of rain. They swim back, and sometimes Sasha lets go, bobbing near his elbow as he swims slowly but steadily on his own.

Martin’s teeth flatten when they crawl onto the shore, panting and burbling out the dregs of their laughter. Tim and Jon have come over to greet them, Jon holding the towels and garments like an overladen clothes tree. Tim chucks Sasha a towel to fold around herself into a makeshift skirt before her tail bisects back into legs.

“Tim, Tim, Tim!” Sasha says excitedly, waving her hands and gesticulating. “Did you see, did you see?”

“See what…?” Tim starts, but he glances at Martin, whose eyes are slow to fade from black to blue, and Tim might not realise what exactly has happened, but he senses the tenor of the mood because he’s barrelling in, knocking into Martin, wrapping him in a hug and nearly smothering him with his wings. Once released, Jon approaches slowly, putting his burdens down. Martin glances up at him, almost anxious now that the initial buzz is wearing down, but Jon goes softly to his knees, and his smile spreads across his face like paint in water.

The grey of the sky feels far off as they allow themselves the momentarily uncomplicated gift of being happy.

#the magnus archives #tma #cw emotional manipulation #cw ableism #cw potential suicidal ideation #cw emetophobia #cw being sick #ask to tag #jonmartin #sasha james #tim stoker #jonathan sims #martin blackwood

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