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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 3 years ago

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Idk if you do one shots inspired in songs, but if so, Would you mind doing one with a Taylor Swift's song which is called "The 1"? With Mason Mount please

< i love taylor so much and i really hope i didn’t completely butcher this, but thanks for the challenge :) >

MASON MOUNT ONESHOT

the 1

( WARNING: little bit of angst and fluff?, swearing )

word count: 1.8k

Things don’t often go as we expect them to, and it’s often incredibly difficult to replan your life around that massive change and adapt your lifestyle so you can — in reality — live again.

It’s like trying to find your feet when you’re in the air — it feels impossible but you know with time you’ll eventually meet the ground again.

That’s what it felt like when you and Mason broke up four years ago.

You were fresh out of uni and at the time, you really thought he’d be it for you, and honestly, so did he. A break up thrown into the mix of having to navigate adult life just seemed to put a huge stopper on all your plans; the holiday you two had both booked for a weekend away in Ireland, the meals out with friends that you had to cancel, and the house showings you were set to attend.

Looking back on your relationship now, you realise it wouldn’t have been the worst thing to end up with Mason. All the years and effort and time put into loving him were — without a doubt — some of the best years of your life (at that stage in life), and did you regret it?

Not one single bit.

But four years is the perfect amount of time to heal, remove the salt from the wound and finish grieving.

But he was here. In real life.

You’d imagined running into him in the supermarket or on a night out with your friends, but a bus stop?

That one was weird. Mainly because you both hated catching the bus with a burning passion.

But it lead to a catch up over coffee.

It was a quiet place, out of the way of the usual lunchtime hustle and bustle in the city, and for that you were grateful. You could hear your own thoughts.

It was awkward at first, you couldn’t keep your eyes from fixating on his figure, his features, because four years can really change a person. He was much broader, his hair a little shorter, but he was still that same Mason you once loved.

You knew that because the first thing he did when he sat down was offer you that cheeky, charming smile that had you hooked from the second you met.

He’d asked how you were, and you answered honestly: you were living well, your best life, and to the fullest. And you knew and he knew that it wasn’t a lie.

He could tell by the smile on your face and the new, sparkling band on your wedding finger. He half expected that blow to sting a little — that you’d found someone and he hadn’t, but he was never one to be bitter whatsoever, at least, not when it came to you.

Instead, he offered his congratulations and the only inkling of regret he held was not being there when it happened.

I guess you never know, never know,

And if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed,

And if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow,

And it’s alright now.

There was silence after that.

You had one thing on your mind, and you knew by the way he was looking at you that he was also thinking the same thing.

You took a sip of your coffee.

He mirrored your actions, seemingly startled when you placed your mug onto your saucer, the chink of porcelain against porcelain echoing around the small shop cutting through the previous quietness.

“I think I hated you for a while.” You murmured, and if Mason wasn’t leant over the table slightly, he would’ve missed the statement completely.

He nodded in understanding, his brown eyes shining with the faintest hint of guilt.

“I think I was so frustrated with the idea that we just…didn’t work, and I blamed it on you.” You paused, fingers twisting your rings.

He paused, mulling over his words, “And now? Still hate me now?”

You bit back a small smile and met his eyes, “No…I think it’d take a whole load of bad shit to get me to hate you.”

He smiled.

“That’s good to know.”

“I mean, I think it was a long time coming anyway, that break up.”

“It didn’t feel right for a while.”

“No,” you agreed, “as much as it hurt to admit, I think we just failed…as a couple. There was a point where we were just together for the sake of not giving up on the relationship, but with no real reason to continue.”

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool,

And if my wishes came true,

It would've been you,

In my defense, I have none,

For never leaving well enough alone,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

He seemed to ponder over your words, and although he never voiced it, he came to the conclusion that you’d just put into words — perfectly — the itch that had been tickling his brain for the past few years.

“Despite that, you can’t deny that we weren’t something…” he started, before breaking off and shaking his head, as if the mere thought was ridiculous.

“We were something special. I think, had things stayed like they were in the beginning, that…you and I…” you waved your hand, tilting your head, and he nodded in agreement, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Me too. I think…in another life we could have made each other happy. It would have been fun.”

The words ‘if you would’ve been the one’ echoed in your head, and despite the passive aggressiveness of your conscience, you found yourself holding back a smile.

“Water fights in winter and eggs with ketchup…perfect. I’d never have gotten tired of that.” You mused, and he spluttered slightly on his coffee, laughing along with you in what felt like a decade.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit,

Having adventures on your own,

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home,

We never painted by the numbers, baby,

But we were making it count,

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now.

“Then again, who knows? Maybe you’ll fall over in the airport and some lucky person will help you off the floor—”

“You’re about to say something cheesy, aren’t you?” Mason covered his mouth, scrunching his nose in anticipation as you nodded.

“All this nostalgic bullshit has me emotional! I swear, just this once…just this once, and I promise you can laugh about it afterwards.” You swore, holding out your pinkie for confirmation.

He didn’t hesitate, and linked your pinkie.

“You’ll find someone else. It’ll be love at first sight—hey, let me have this moment…maybe love at second sight, knowing you… you’ll go to some really magical place and have the most amount of fun you’re ever gonna have…hikes, skydiving, looking after animals I’m sanctuaries…you’re gonna have the time of your life — like Grey and Swayze.” You sniggered, unable to hold in your laughs at the ridiculous scenarios.

Mason pulled a face, unable to hide a smile.

“Okay, okay. End of story: they’ll be perfect. The Chandler to your Monica or the Robin to your Ted. But, you understand what I’m talking about, right?” You asked, sighing out of frustration.

“You’re saying I’ll find my person.” He concluded, sitting back in his chair.

“Yeah.”

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family,

And it would've been sweet,

If it could've been me,

In my defense, I have none,

For digging up the grave another time,

But it would've been fun,

If you would've been the one.

“Like…your grandma and grandad. I want what they have.” Mason smiled.

“They’ll be pleased to hear that,” you said, “I don’t think they’re quite over us yet. You were too…you at family meals. They fell in love with you too.”

This time Mason really laughed. Really laughed. He threw his head back and the people working at the counter turned to look at him, fighting their own smiles at his carefree nature.

What you’d said wasn’t even that funny.

“Too me? Thanks, I think?”

“Oh, that’s definitely a compliment. You’re too damn charming for your own good, it’s a problem. You should come with a warning label on your forehead: EASY TO LOVE.”

“That’ll solve a lot of problems.”

There was silence.

It was relieving to say the least.

“That whole conversation was about four years too late.” You said, pursing your lips.

“Better late than never.” Mason murmured, his eyes trained on you.

The pressure on your shoulders was lifted. All the things that needed to be said were said.

As time passes, the wound heals — sometimes, but in your case, that was true, as hard as it was to come to that conclusion — and it suddenly became easier to recall the loss of what might have been without bringing you back to wishing it would be again.

It was nice.

“Would it be totally inappropriate—”

“Not at all.” You interrupted, shrugging at his raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say.” He chuckled.

“I’ll have you know that years of knowing you granted me the issue of knowing what you’re going to say,” You said, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

“What was I going to say?” He challenged, “If you get it right, I’ll get you tickets to the next game.”

You raised your brows.

“Confident, are we?”

He shrugged, a smug smirk on his lips.

“I don’t think it’s totally inappropriate to be friends.” At your words, he slumped in his chair, hands going to cover his face.

“No.” He groaned, repeating the word like a mantra as you pumped the air with your fist.

“Three tickets to the next game in the bag.” You bragged.

“Honestly.” He whined, peeling his hands away. “Why are you so difficult?”

“You offered the terms.”

“Why am I so dumb?” He rephrased.

“Ah, I'm afraid only you can answer that one.”

“The brain cells I have left don’t have enough energy to come up with an answer to a question as philosophical as that one—yes, it was philosophical to me, okay?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” You promised, putting your hands in the air in surrender.

“Just remember who’s going to give you those tickets, yeah?” He teased, sitting up.

“Abusing your power, nice move.”

“Oh…shut up.”

“Weak.” You coughed, trying to disguise the fact you said anything.

He looked straight at you, highly unimpressed by your tactics.

“Very original.” Was all he said.

“Is it supposed to be this easy?” You blurted out, spitting out the words before you could rethink the consequences of them being thrown into the abyss between you and Mason.

He knitted his brows together in thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “but we were friends way before, it’s not hard to fall back into old habits. I think that’s why it’s so easy.”

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shinobusupremecy · 3 years ago

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may i ask for a protective shinobu and how she would react seeing her s/o with bad injury she got in a mission.

and how she would blame herself for that, because she wasn't there for you when you needed.

and just her s/o tryin to comfort her.

Protective Shinobu x f!reader

A/N:I think concerned Shinobu is pretty cute lol so it will be nice writing that.

Blood spluttered from your mouth as the demons claw stabbed you right through your abdomen. The demon smirked at you, seeing your shocked face. You tried to slash the demon but you were loosing blood at a alarming rate leading to your grip on your sword becoming weak and you dropped it. You felt tears sting your eyes realizing you might die. You didn’t wanna die. If you died she would loose you. Shinobu have already lost her sister, her parents and may loose you now. You felt your eyelids become heavier as your body began to become numb. You didn’t realize the demon dropped you until you hit the hard ground. You saw as the sun began to peak through the sky.

“So beautiful” You breathed out. Your hand reached to your stab wound feeling quickly that your hand was staining red. It was a unpleasant feeling. You didn’t wanna die like this. You wanted to die old, die with your lover. But here you are bleeding out.

“I’m so sorry Shinobu. Please forgive me” Your chest tightened and you coughed out as blood from your mouth fell right back in your throat.

“There she is!” You heard someone yell and you looked up too see Kakushis running to you. You reached out your hand but it soon fell and your vision faltered.

Shinobu dropped the stuff she was holding when she heard the news. A kakushi told her and Shinobu really tried not to cry in front of them. She sprinted out of the room and to her horror she saw you carried on a bed by the kakushis. You had a huge bandadge wrapped around your abdomen. The bandadge was staining red. Dry blood was still on your mouth and your body looked exhausted. But your face looked so peaceful like you were already dead.

Guilt began to eat her alive thinking back on the morning you went away on your mission.

“Shinobu can you come with? I want company!” You whined. You have tried to convince Shinobu to follow on your mission all morning but to no avail.

“Honey you know I have paperwork and patients to heal so I can’t come” Shinobu replied and you pouted.

“Don’t pout like that” Shinobu’s smile faltered a bit. “I promise you that we can eat together when you come back from your mission, okay?” Shinobu asked you as she cupped her hand to your cheek. Your eyes connected and Shinobu smiled at you again. You still pouted and frowned.

“If you keep frowning like that you will look as grumpy as Tomioka” Shinobu said as she pecked your nose.

“I guess. Okay fine but you really have to promise that!” You demanded and Shinobu laughed at your demanding behaviour.

“Yes honey I promise” Shinobu said and held her hands in yours. You two gave eachother one last kiss before parting away. Shinobu watched you as your figure became smaller and smaller from her view. She only went inside the estate when she couldn’t see you at all.

Shinobu snapped out of her daze and dragged your battered body to your bed. She quickly brought out all her tools to tend your wounds while muttering prayers that you would not leave her.

“Please Y/N don’t leave me! We still haven’t eaten together as we promised each other!” She began to yell as tears began to fall from her eyes. Emotions finally catching up to her she grabbed your hand while praying. The butterfly girls watched Shinobu tending and praying beside you and they were all concerned. They didn’t know if they should come in or not.

“Come on girls let’s leave her alone until she call for us” Aoi said and dragged the triplets away.

Shinobu was sweating at this point frantically trying to wipe away her tears that blurred her vision. She breathed in and out trying to calm herself. Shinobu looked up at you several times to see if you would awake soon but no you were still having that peaceful expression.

After she was done treating you she walked towards the shrine of her sister. She opened the door her heart aching more. She looked at the flowers she had for her sister and she sat down. Veins began to pulse on her forehead and she sighed out before praying.

“Hello sister. I’m doing fairly good and the other girls too. But Y/N got gravely injuried on a mission and...” She felt tears sting her closed eyes as she tried to supress her sob. “I don’t know if she will survive. I don’t wanna loose her too. I have already lost you, our parents...I can’t loose Y/N. She’s my world, she’s there for me, she makes me happy, she reminds me to keep living. But I can’t...I have to avenge you. I have my own mission to hold up to. I’m sorry Y/N but we may not be together forever” She opened her eyes and wiped her tears before leaving the room.

You groaned as you opened your eyes. The pain in your stomach was more faint but still there. You looked around the room and you saw that you were back in the butterfly estate. You sighed out. You knew you’re gonna get scolded by Shinobu. You did not look forward to the one hour lectaure she was gonna give you.

“Shinobu she’s awake!” You heard Aoi yell and not soon after you began to hear light quick footsteps coming your way. You tried to sit up to greet your girlfriend and you managed to come up but almost fell down again when Shinobu tackled you into a hug.

“Y/N! Y/N! Thank the gods you’re okay! I thought I was gonna loose you!” You haven’t seen Shinobu react like this so you just patted her back. Then you felt your shoulder become wet and you realized she was crying.

“Welp this was a first” You thought and you hugged her back.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that!” You slightly jumped at Shinobu’s scolding tone but you still continued to rub circles on Shinobu’s back. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come to your mission! I should’ve followed!” Shinobu parted the hug to look at you. Her purple eyes full of tears.

“No no it’s okay you couldn’t know this happened” and you cupped your hands to Shinobu’s cheek and kissed her mouth.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I would never wanna leave you” You told her after you kissed her. Shinobu nodded before you two hugged again.

“I promise” You said and held out your pinky. Shinobu formed her mouth in a “o” before more tears flooded her eyes. She remembered how her sister and her did the same thing. Promised each other to protect humans and kill all demons. She brought out her pinky too and you two pinky promised before hugging each other.

“I’m glad you promise me that Y/N” Shinobu whispered in your ear.

She wanted to promise you the same thing she really did but she knew she can’t if she wants her plan to succeed.

“Y/N. Please forgive me but I can’t promise you the same”

A/N:I couldn’t remember some parts so I had to re read some parts o the manga and there I saw Shinobu’s sad past and all that so now I’m gonna go and cry. Thank you for requesting! It was fun to write!

#kny #kny x reader #kny x you #kny shinobu #demon slayer shinobu #shinobu #shinobu kochou #shinobu kochō #shinobu x reader #shinobu x you #shinobu x y/n #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #🦋eli writes

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bloodycassian · 3 years ago

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Awaken, My Love - DEVOTION AND DESIRE PART THREE. PART ONE. PART TWO.

Will Reader really marry Kai? Does Azriel know just how sexy he is? Will the war continue, or be put on hold for this possible new marriage? Find out below.

Kai had been insufferable the entire stay in Summer court. That had been expected. But what wasn’t expected, was for Tarquin to make an appearance. Your shock matched the rest of the guests’ faces in the large ballroom.

The waning high lord was escorted in by his care team. Two of the courts top healers and three guards. You were sure there were several others watching over him that masked their presence. Tarquin’s hand shook when he held his glass up for a toast. The result of a nearly deadly injury years ago. Along with several other issues that many claimed made him unfit to be high lord.

But you’d rather see him rule to the end of days than see what Kai had planned for the summer court. Even if he was just a glimmer of what he used to be.

The prince squeezed your hand too hard as he stood staring at his father. His eyes narrowed, darting over the room at everyone who held their glass up along with his father. Tarquin took two wheezing breaths before in a great, raspy voice announcing “Thank you for coming.” The crowd clapped. All but you and Kai, who still firmly held your hand.

“We celebrate a great success tonight. Feast, and drink for the ones we lost.” He said, turning to his healers before anyone could notice the coughing fit he had after. You cringed in sympathy, the empathetic pain of whatever he went through cut straight to your bones. You couldnt bear seeing how it wracked his body. people were cheering. The dancing started.

The music was louder after the short speech. And the drinks flowed much heavier. You eventually had broken away from Kai long enough to head to the patio. The muggy night air wasn’t much reprieve from the hot inside with bodies dancing.

Staring at the night sky, trying to ignore that stinging in your chest, you sent a silent request to the mother. “Please - make this worth it.” You thought, and fought the tense, hot tears that welled behind your eyelids.

When you opened, the dulled stars seemed even less appealing than before you’d sent the request. The stars did not shine, and the moon seemed like less of a planet and more of a dull light in the sky. The ocean whispered as it rolled against the shoreline. It was always within hearing distance, no matter how far away you were.

The bouncing music did not drown it out. And when Kai found you again, he did not let you out of his sight.

The burning in Azriels chest hadn’t left for a full week. Fearing the worst of it, he decided to see Madja, and explicitly told her to not mention it to Rhys. She waved him off, and told him to sit. Then he had to lay down. Then she had him talk and walk. All the while her glowing, healing light on him.

The ache didn't not get better.

After an hour of exams, Majda shook her head. “There is nothing wrong with you. If something in here-” She placed a small warm hand to his chest. “Hurts, then you need to see a Reader.”

Mother above, he couldn’t handle this female’s logic. Madja had been known to recommend a few strange things now and again, but Az had never heard of her actually believing in Readers. She scribbled something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Take this to the one closest to the Rainbow, he’ll know what to look for.”

Az gave her a look, one she was used to seeing from patients that were speculative over the ancient ways of Readers. “Madja, Readers are for tourists-”

“Bah bah bah, I dont want to hear it.” She shooed him towards the door before he could taint the room with his negativity. “If you want to feel better, that is the way. Go, shadowsinger. You dont have much to lose.” She gave him a long look that said she knew exactly what he ached over. He didn’t bother arguing against the healer, he knew better. Over six hundred years working with her, he knew just how to piss her off. So he turned and began his trek back to the townhome. He would not be seeing a Reader.

The letter came with a winter court seal stamped to the crease of it. Unopened, the wax showed you the familiar palace rooftops you’d grown up with. Each with delicate icicles hanging from the eaves.

Despite the pleasant imagery, the purple stamp made your heart race. Nothing casual would come from a letter so formal. You didn’t care that Kai watched you as you popped the letter open, the two guards behind him held their chins high, as if they waited for something.

The page was simple, and was only marked for the first few lines. In Kallis’ familiar scrawl, it seemed as if he were drunk or… shaken writing it.

“Kai is a fierce male. He is noble, and heir to the Summer throne. The world has gotten more dangerous since this war began. Because of that, I wish for you to be married within the month. Please return to the palace as soon as you are able, so we may forge this alliance in blood, and with celebration.”

Your fingers trembled as they held the page. Kai took it from you, and you did not protest. You could only stare into the empty space where it had been. Your hands became soaked in sweat, and you were sure the ripe scent of fear now tainted the room. You didn’t care though, not even when the guards smirked and Kai’s face lit up with an enormous smile. You knew this day would come. You knew you’d have to marry him eventually, but… it seemed impossible now.

Now that you knew you had a mate out there, in the world. Not just a random fae male either, he was a part of the enemy court. He was the angel of death. And you'd tried to keep him off your mind as much as possible the entire time you’d been back, fearing that Kai would sense him on you somehow.

“I suppose I’ll be calling you my wife soon.” Kai chittered, and wrapped you into a too tight hug. His warm body pressed against yours like a weight. You let him kiss you after, let his sloppy lips ghost over yours.

Then, he was backing away. He walked out to the hall with a newfound confidence that he hadn’t had before. A male with everything he needed to have guaranteed power.

Az didnt fully mean to wake up in the middle of the night and be stiffly walking towards the Rainbow. He may have been thinking about you a bit extra before bed, but those thoughts had been of panting, moaning, doing everything he’d ever imagined with you-to you. His hands worked expertly to undo the button of his pants. He kicked them off before laying back in his enormous bed.. He spread his wings wide, reveling in the sensation of the very soft sheets against them. He teased himself first- rolling a nipple, scratching at his chest. then began tracing his fingers lower and lower, until he cradled himself in a hand. The nails of his other hand dug in deep, and sharp into his thigh while he stroked himself, long and slow over his length.

Elain hadn't crossed his mind the entire time. And it killed him to admit that.

What was the point of two brothers being mated to two sisters if the third of each would be left out in the cold? Were Cas and Rhys just so similar that they.. just happened to click the same? Az's chest tightened thinking of the female he once thought was his love at first sight. The girl in the garden that brought life and joy to the world. The one that cooked for all of them, not because she had to - because she wanted to. He pined for Elain for years, two hundred years. Mor hadn't been more than a passing thought in his mind since he'd met Elain. And now... what? He was doing just what he had done to Mor to Elain.

He pushed the thoughts down, shoved them deep beneath his mask of calm and looked to the sky.

The dull glow of the streetlights reflecting against the snow was something that always warmed his insides. The childish excitement of seeing the outside in all it’s simple beauty would always get to him. He thought it would, anyway. Now, it seemed like more of an inconvenience than anything. On top of it all, the harsh wind nipping at his lightly covered body reminded him of winter. Of you.

And that ache deepened. He walked faster.

Kai mounted up fifteen guardsmen within three days. Highly trained, very professional guards that would die for their prince in a heartbeat. On top of those fifteen, he ordered a hundred or more to follow the caravan to the edge of Winter, so they could splitoff and join the front lines in the middle and Dawn.

The embarrassment of so many guardsmen trotting into the city gates behind you was unforgettable. The crowd of traders and merchants parted, and stared. Your cheeks burned.

Kallis greeted you with a warm, firm hug that nearly brought tears to your eyes. His embrace was the reminder you had a home outside the Summer court. It reminded you of the bear hugs your father always gave whenever he came home from a command shift. You'd stay up at night waiting for him, and if you did happen to be asleep when he came home, he would always leave a small circlet of flowers from wherever he'd been on your bedside table.

"I'm sorry." The high lord muttered into your ear during the embrace. It was so quiet you were sure Kai couldn't hear.

When you pulled away, your uncle's eyes were red rimmed, yet he smiled. "Let's get started." He said. Your stomach dropped, nausea burning up your insides at the thought of why you were here again.

Kai pulled you back to his side, his too warm hand forcing its way into yours. "It would be my honor." He said with a sickening smile.

The Reader was well known through Velaris, as there were few of them in the world, let alone in the Night court. He'd resided in the small townhouse long before Velaris had become what it was today. Az personally had never seen him. He'd heard plenty about him from Mor and Elain after they had their appointments.

But upon entering the dark cluttered room, he understood why they would chatter about the.. darkness of it all.

The walls were bedecked in shelves, and the shelves were covered with different oddities from small animal skulls to jars of... he didn't want to know. Where there weren't shelves, there were larger animal skulls and mobiles made of crystals. Some shone bright and proud even in the dimness, others sparkled happily. There wasn't a bare space in the entire shop it seemed. Az wondered how the male even moved around with the stacks of books and aincent looking relics lying around.

"The shadowsinger finally visits.." A thick accented voice called from behind a dark framed partition. Az hesitantly stepped towards the voice, the floorboards beneath dark rugs squeaking. The hooded figure sat in a withered old chair behind a table covered with candles, chalk and jars of different liquids.

And in the very center of the table was a large, metal bowl. The inside of it marred with ash and blackened from many fires

The Reader's thin lips curled into a smile, Az could only tell because his teeth glinted in the candlelight. "Come, let me sing to them - as they call to me."

There was minimal preparation for the wedding. No fancy decorations, no guests, and no music. Kallis insisted that there be as few people as possible to wetness the binding of the courts. You tried to ignore most of it. If you paid attention to the gown, or the flowers, or the fancy dressed witnesses and how their attention pointed straight at you - you'd run away screaming.

And if you thought of the male that you were to be bound to…You shuddered, even in front of your hearth. Without meaning to, your mind wandered to the dark skinned male that was your mate. You thought of that way he had looked at you for that moment. The way he seemed to look completely through you, to the core of your being. His eyes seemed to pierce everything you’d ever been, and anything you ever would be. He’d touched on every aspect of you, and did not turn. He drank it in, it felt like.

And when that click happened, like a bone being set into place… you didn’t know how you’d existed before. Without the extra… room for thinking. It seemed like the bond had unlocked a new - reserved part of your mind that was only to think of him. The shadowsinger. The one that lurked in your dreams, his lips, his scent. The angel of death.

The one that had helped reign terror over Prythian, next to his leader.

The male before you was not fit to be a husband, or a high lord. His smirk as Kallis prepared the ribbons told you that he knew exactly what he was doing. The prince had been imagining this for a long, long while.

And now he was getting exactly what he wanted. A place of power over two courts, if he was high lord of one and family of the other... he would have great sway once this war was over. He'd be a main component in any court dealings. He would be the head of Summer once Tarquin's time was over, and he would be able to influence Kallis through your father's tie to him.

You wondered if this was what Tarquin wanted for his only son. If your father would be proud of your sacrifice, or if he would share the despair and disappointment with you.

You wished he could be here for your matrimony. Even if it did feel false and unreal. If he were there... maybe he would be able to comfort you after. The unease of not know what exactly would happen immediately after the ceremony left your hands sweaty, even as Kai gripped them. You didn't try to flinch away, or pull your hands back to your sides.

This was inevitable.

The Reader didn't scan Az's body like Madja had done. Instead, he had the shadowsinger blindly pick four items from a bowl and set them in the order he felt was correct. It was a stupid task, one that made no sense if he placed them correctly or not.

"Wishbone, feather, Needle, and.. coin?" The Reader's fingers ran over the edge of the worn silver mark.

"A silver." Az confirmed, pushing the smugness in his voice down. He'd suspected the Reader was blind from the moment he stepped inside the room. No lights on, and hardly any light coming through the dark tinted display window.

"Dont be so surprised, Azriel Shadowsinger." He chuckled in a way that made Az’s shadows curl around him protectively. Waiting to block any incoming threat. “You’re not the only one with unusual gifts.”

Before Az had a chance to react, the coin was flying at him. He saw it in slow motion for one second, and the next… It was gone. His shadows had morphed into a glove like shape and caught the coin a foot before it would have hit his forehead. His heart thundered in his ears. He’d only manifested those physical shadows once. One time on a fluke incident. While he was drunk.

The Reader laughed, and clapped his pale hands together. “We are going to learn a lot about each other, young one.”

Vivienne had given you the traditional necklace that Winter tradition insisted upon at all marriages. Despite the unwillingness of the situation, the sentiment still warmed your heart. And you hugged her, trying not to cry and ruin your makeup.

Her curling dark hair framed her thin face gorgeously as she smiled at you. It was an understanding smile, one that said she knew just why you weren’t excited about this day - the day that many females dreamed of. After the sadness in her life it was a wonder she was able to smile at all.

When your father had told you she had lost her child, it was never mentioned again. You didnt see her for weeks after that, but when you did… she seemed different. She was no longer that aunt you would go drinking with on the coldest nights of the year. She held her suffering closer to her chest, and was more careful about who she let in.

“Future lady of summer court…” She sighed, and squeezed your shoulders encouragingly. Your eyes stung more viciously, as if they accepted your fate while your heart did not. The new part of your mind that swam in darkness and soothing shadows did not accept it either. It anchored you to the denial, to the rage that threatened when you spared more than a second on the thought of Kai’s gaining power from using you.

“High lady of winter..” You gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. The title of high lady came after she’d come to power with Kallis. She felt it was for the next generation of females on the thrones of Prythian.

“You know your uncle only wants the best for you. He wants you safe from… everything.” She looked pointedly towards the door, implying Kai. You nodded in acceptance. “Your father…” She cleared her throat and looked to her feet. Her long lashes fluttered as she spoke. “He wishes he could be here. To see you… not just for this.”

The tears broke over finally, and spilled in fat droplets to the floor. You missed him so dearly. You knew there were lives on the line at the border, but you were his daughter. His flesh and blood.

The shadows inside you hummed, like faelights working hard to keep an abyss bright. It crackled with unease and groaned like a sinking ship. “I know-” You said, keeping your voice from shaking. She dabbed at your cheeks, and re applied your kohl liner before you stepped out to the open congregation room.

Where Kallis stood, the prayerbook in hand, and Kai at his side.

Azriel shot out of the chair so fast it cracked against the floorboards. He pulled his shadows in as tight as he could, and that coin dropped to the table. Straight back into that stained bowl. The Reader still smiled, and the items Az had picked all began floating in front of him.

He didn’t have words, couldn’t describe what the hell he was seeing. He blinked. The Reader crossed his long fingers together, and waited.

Azriel stormed out without a second look back. The ancient male laughed as he heard Az’s hurried steps leaving. The door rattled shut behind him, and he hoped to the mother he’d never see the male again. As for his shadows… He had to figure out why this was happening. He strode far from the shop, still uneasy when he couldnt even see the building.

His wings were tense, sucked in tight against his back. He could feel his body locking up, readying for a fight. Ready to run, or slice or punch anything that threatened him. It seemed utterly insane feeling like this in his own town. But he couldnt shake it. The snow fell cold and wet against his wings, sticking to his hair as if he were a statue.

His stomach roiled. He’d never met another shadosinger, let alone whatever the Reader was. Not a shadowsinger, that was certain. Az had never heard of talents like that before. Not from any other than a high lord, that was.

He looked up to the clouded sky. The stars were so similar to what they’d been when he was a child. How had so much in this world changed while they remained the same? It seemed unfair. Times like these it felt like a cruel joke to be alive. The daily battles, the weekly death report lists going out to families. All for a few scraps of land. For a title to shift from one to another.

The thoughts muddled his mind, making it hard to see his own feet as the snow covered them. He needed to get out, to get away. The sounds of a bar down the street rang clear in his mind. A drink would be nice. Fantastic even, it would be an opportunity to not even have to think anymore. To be rid of that fiery rage in his chest that burned for you.

Then he remembered what he’d conjured on that island.

So he shook himself free of the snow, and took off. He shot into the air so fast it made the shrubbery below quake. He only heard it for a half a second before he was long gone, soaring into the night sky, letting the cold wind take him far, far away from the wrongness of the city.

Kai stood in traditional Winter court clothes. Surprisingly, he only had a touch of summer representation on him. A small pin of a traditional summer court sailboat posted to the collar of the heavy coat.

Kallis didin’t look unusual in his formal getup. It was only slightly different from his high lord garb. Instead of a bandolier and sword at his side, he wore only the thick collared coat that matched Kai’s. Viviane and two other guardsmen were the only others in the room.

The bright, gray filtered afternoon sun streamed into the room from the enormous windows to the east. Their rippled pattern made the shadows look like a collage of ice caps on the sea. Or the refractions of water against sand, depending where you were from. Either way it was beautiful, and would have been an ideal location for the perfect wedding. Even if you were to marry again, you didnt think you could bear to see this room again. No matter what occasion.

This would not be a day of light, and celebration. It would be a day of mourning and sorrow for yourself. For the future you didn’t get to have. For the male you were going to lose because of this arrangement.

Not that it would have ever been possible in the first place. Azriel was of the night court. He was in the command of traitors that had used their power to threaten the rest of the courts. He was no better than Dawn or Day males. Even if there was no war, and he somehow found you in a normal life...He was a walking outcast if he’d ever come to Winter court. With his thinner build and dark skin, you weren’t sure if he would even want to visit.

Kallis finished saying something in a long string of words, and both the males looked to you. You blinked back to life, to the moment right now. The moment you’d dreaded since you met Kai. You offered your hand. And with that, Kallis tied the thick blue ribbon atop both of your hands. Your knuckles were reddened with nerves, as were your cheeks.

Kallis then dropped the water of both court’s oceans on the ribbon. Just as the royals before you had done thousands of times, reluctantly or not, just like you. It curled and squeezed together, the sign of the marriage being accepted. None were ever denied. Kai’s hand squeezed yours, and the ribbon dissipated to the floor.

“You both are now a part of a house bound in love and honor. These are sacred words, say them with pride.” Kallis started with Kai, “I take my wife as a privilege of my life. I will honor and love her until the end of my days.”

Kai repeated the words back, never looking at you. You could feel your breathing getting heavier, and it felt like the air was being sucked from your lungs. Kallis turned to you, and gave you time to adjust. He nodded, waiting your go ahead.

You bowed your head, and he began. “I take my husband with honor, and love like no other.” The words were altered from the normal ceremonies. Normally they were both repeated back, partner to partner. The same words each time. “I will be his guide, in dark and light - Snow and Summer.”

You repeated the words back, slowly. Numbly. As if someone else were speaking for you. You stared at Kallis’ buttons on his coat, hoping to the Mother that the deal would stick, because it did not feel like a bargain with your dishonest heart.

The words worked, though. And a stinging sensation began on your elbow, and wove its way around to the front of your arm, into it’s ditch. You hissed at the pain, the dark band ended with two snakes facing each other, in the very center of your arm. Kai looked at his own, a simple band as well, but his ended with two delicate swords crossing each other.

“May you live happily, and love freely. The Winter court honors you both as a married pair.” Kallis finished the ceremony with the best smile he could manage. He stared at you though, as if he could help you somehow. He saw the suffering there, yet saw the determination as well. The love of your homeland would never outweigh a sacrifice.

And he admired that about you. It was something he always considered a great feat among Fae. And without knowing if you even were fully Fae, it was even more remarkable. His eyes welled with tears knowing that he had let Viviane lie to you about your father.

Among all of his regrets, that was the biggest. But he hadn’t known how to tell you, couldnt see you bear that weight of disappointment and sadness. He didn’t know what it would do to you. And he’d rather it stay a fool’s hope than to have to see you torn up by something you couldn’t change.

His brother was dead, and he was never coming back.

A single tear dripped to his coat, and he sniffed lightly.

You found the strength to look to Kallis. To imagine your father there, next to him. You knew he would have been sobbing - for a mix of happiness of watching his daughter marry, but also with despair. He knew your hopes had always been to find someone to travel with, to do everything you ever dreamed of with.

The day would be for mourning the loss of that, but celebrating your safety. As long as you were alive to despair, it would be something you were grateful for.

Kai’s hand left yours and he stepped toward Kallis, as if he were going to hug the high lord.

Then blood began dripping from Kallis’s mouth.

He moaned in pain, then fell to the floor, on his knees before Kai. Viviane's footsteps were fast behind you, but the guardsmen cut her off. You were moving before you were fully aware of what you were seeing.

Kai’s bloodied hand reached for you, but you pushed past him. Warmth spread across your arm. Kallis leaned forward on to you for support once you were in front of him. Kai backed away. The world seemed more quiet than it had ever been. Panicked flutters made every nerve in your body tingle. You patted your uncle, looking for the wound. You found the warm blood leaking from his stomach, at his rib.

“No- no no-” You laid him down gently, and pressed the wound. You spared one glance up to Kai, seeing why he wasn’t helping you. Why Viviane wasn’t moving. He held a bloodied dagger, covered in green gems. Much like Autumn court fashion. You stared at the silver pommel of the small knife, taking in the smallest details there. How the gems overlaid each other like scales, how the forging shone as if it were brand new beneath the blood.

The world spun, and refused to make sense anymore. It was as if you were a sailor in a churning sea of madness. And your boat was breaking.

Kai cleared his throat, and flung the knife into the floor. It stuck with a hollow thud that made you blink, coming back to reality. It was the same kind of sound that Kalis’s knees made when they hit the floor too.

Viviane's tears left dark rivers of makeup down her cheeks, she wailed, and screamed. But no one was around to hear it. Kallis had made sure of it.

Kai’s words felt like a light coming on in a dark room. It made you see the male in your lap again, made you understand that the male you had just married had killed your uncle. And he wasn’t done. You did not fear for you own life, only of Vivannes. She was the only one left with a life to spare. You understood you would be dead the second you slipped up.

“You just saw A niece kill an uncle. Over a lust for power. And you now see me taking over the role here as High Lord.” He announced to the three before him. You cradled Kallis’ head in your lap, your mouth moving, whispering or screaming, you didn’t know.

Viviane's heart gave way, and she roared. She screamed loud enough for it to break through your daze. You looked up, and she was running, springing in that deep blue dress she’d picked out for this day. For her Mate’s death song. She brandished a dagger from nowhere, it shone in the overcast light. It seemed to move three times slower than it happened. Your eyes saw it slow, but your brain couldn’t process what it was seeing.

The spear that flew through the air as she jumped at Kai, that knife aimed directly for his chest. The sickening crunch of it hitting it’s target - in the center of Viviane's back. Her mouth sputtering blood, even as she stared at Kai with that deadly look. She wheezed, and the floor began darkening with her blood.

Kai lowered himself to her, and tilted his head to hear her weak whispers. She turned paler by the second. Her dress was no longer blue. It was the dark red of lifeblood.

The copper smell made your stomach turn. You ached to vomit, and to slap yourself awake from this horrid nightmare. But you couldn’t look away from her, not in her last moments. Kallis’ blood was hot against your hands. His light beard was stained just as his wife’s dress was.

Kai muttered something, then said it again. You held your breath, trying to still the thrumming in your ears long enough to hear him. To hear your aunt as she spoke her last words. “You will- never… be a high lord, little princeling.” She said the words with a vicious, predatory smile.

Your tears fell to your uncles chest as you watched Kai step around her, making footprints in her blood. He took the spear that had impaled her, and yanked it out.

You closed your eyes before her body hit. And a last, rattling breath blew out of Kallis’ mouth.

Then, your world turned to ice. Cold became you, seemed to inject itself into your bloodstream like a healer would. It burned with an icy rage that only came with the deadliest storms in the winter of winters. It tore through you like a beast’s howl, from the deep forests and beyond.

Kai was rushing for you when you opened your eyes to a new, brighter world. Colors seemed to sing in perfect harmony, yet around you was.. Almost like a glacier. Ice and wind held you in place. Kallis and Vivienne’s bodies lay far in front of you, broken and bloody. The iciness in your being seemed to soar, and lift to a new level.

Then, you were gone.

#devotion and desire fic #acotar #azriel #reader x azriel #azriel x reader #kai summercourt #kallis

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writinglizards · 4 years ago

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Desideratum

Summary: Desideratum - to long for. Five times Jaskier needed Geralt, plus one time Geralt needed him.

Hey yall, this is another train fic! Keep an eye out for the next part on Wednesday from our next mystery contributor!

next | ao3

"Geralt," Jaskier hissed, "please--"

"No," he said, not so much as twitching, "I'm not getting involved." Jaskier deflated. It was...a little heartbreaking. They had traveled together for years and yet there were still days when he thought Geralt would have rather he'd never met him.

"It would only be for a night," he said, without any real conviction. he could tell from the scowl on his face, the stiffness of his shoulders, the eerie, still way he sat back on his heels, pretending at meditation before the hearth while Jaskier pestered him.

"You said the same thing about the banquet in Cintra. No." It was a low blow—they both knew it hadn’t been Jaskier's fault, not really, but—

"And when I'm harassed by cuckolds and angry spouses? What then, Geralt?"

"Hope you run quickly, then," Geralt said, expression smoothing to indifference as he settled into meditation, his breathing evening out. Realistically, Jaskier knew it was...probably fine. No one wanted to make a spectacle at a royal banquet, not really, but he was also aware of the fact that he had angered more than his fair share of spouses in his, ah, escapades. And then there was the fact he'd thought...fuck. He'd thought maybe Geralt had enjoyed his time at the banquets he'd played. But. Apparently not.

It didn’t matter. It was fine anyway.

Jaskier realized how very not fine it was almost as soon as he was announced. Three separate men swiveled to face the entrance and another four or so women, each looking anywhere between mildly scandalized and absolutely furious and he knew immediately he wouldn’t be getting out unscathed.

He set up to play with a nervous, buzzing energy under his skin. No one was staring still because that would be indecent, but he could feel their eyes anyway, watching. He gave himself just a minute to vehemently wish for Geralt, and then he straightened and took a deep breath, lute already cradled in his grip. The accompanying players perked up when he strummed a test chord, and in just a few moments they were deep into the first song of the opening set.

On stage was easy. He played, he smiled, he catered to the crowd. The accompanying players weren’t awful, and they took direction easily and eagerly. He was almost enjoying himself as he played, had almost forgotten the hostile gazes that still caught and held him occasionally. In the spotlight, nothing could happen to him and he relished it, even as he knew it would be ripped away, and soon.

He passed on the customary break between the arrival of the guests and the first course and played straight through, passing it off as his delight at playing to an appreciative audience and nothing at all to do with the way that would have pulled him out of the spotlight where he’d be vulnerable.

He was exhausted by the end of the meal, his fingers still stinging from the pressure of holding the strings down, but he played through his after dinner set as well, enjoying the prolonged security of having every eye in the room turned towards him. It couldn’t last, but he milked it for all it was worth right up until it was almost indecent to continue to do so, at which point he politely bowed out and let his compatriot, another bard he'd never met, take over.

He was already working out a plan on how to best vanish before one of the men or women still shooting him venomous looks could corner him in a quiet space when he was approached from behind.

"Julian Alfred Pankratz, otherwise known as the bard Jaskier," an arm looped around his neck, tugging him in close, grip tight, "we need to have a little chat, you and I."

Fuck.

The man tugged him into a nearby nook in the wall. It was a tiny space meant for amorous couples to steal a few quick minutes of passion, or at least that's how Jaskier had always used them. As the man thrust him away from him and he stumbled face first against the far wall, he couldn’t help but think that wasn’t what was about to happen here.

"How can I help--" he cut off as he turned and got a look at the man's face. "Ah. Good evening, Arthur, to what do I--"

"Cut the shit, Jaskier," Arthur growled, voice low. He was already fucked. In for a copper, in for a crown.

"How's our darling Virginia?"

Arthur got a hand around his neck, shoved him farther into the nook and back up against the far wall again. His fingers bit into the flesh of his throat and he could feel the way his own heart pounded, pulse rabbit-quick against the count's fingers. "You don't get to talk about her. Not ever, and especially not like that." Jaskier fought down growing panic as his airway constricted and smiled, sharp and vicious.

"Ah, but I do believe I do. She said--" the only warning he got was the way Arthur's fingers tightened around his throat, cutting off airflow before the hit landed, solid and open-handed, across his face. He choked, panic rising as his fingers flew to his throat, scrabbling at the grip there in a frantic bid to get some air. Arthur squeezed hard for just a moment longer before letting up and Jaskier went limp as he did, sucking in air so fast he coughed.

"Do not speak about, think about, or so much as look at my wife again, bard. Next time I won't be so nice. Do we understand each other?"

"Of course, Count de Stael," he rasped, as he finally let go, stepping back.

"It's been a distinct pleasure, Jaskier," he said in a tone that implied it very much was not, "enjoy the rest of your night." He left him there in the private nook, throat sore and cheek burning. He brushed his fingers lightly over the heat of it and winced.

It wasn’t hard to slip away after that. The party was distracted by the dancing and drinking, too busy to wonder where a single bard had gotten off to, even one as well known as Jaskier.

He spent the entire walk back to the inn rehearsing what he was going to say to Geralt, how he was going to explain himself. He was tired. His cheek burned every time the wind blew and his throat hurt with every breath and he just wanted...he just wanted Geralt. He just wanted Geralt, which is a ridiculous notion, because Geralt would call him an idiot and tell him this is his fault, but he'd also sit him down and fuss over the bruises he could already feel blooming on his throat, the red mark on his cheek. He was so ready for that that when he arrived back at their inn room, he almost didn’t understand it was empty until he'd been standing there a full minute.

"Sorry," he croaked at the innkeep downstairs a few minutes later, "the witcher, where did he--"

"Oh, he's at the brothel, boy. Said to tell you he'd be back in the morning." And that was--

"Thank you, good sir," he rasped, slipping him a copper across the counter before trudging back up to their—apparently his—room for the night.

He dragged the healing salve safe for human use out of Geralt's bag and slathered his neck with it half-heartedly, rubbing it over his cheek too, just to be safe. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror, knowing too well what lurked there. Sad eyes. An empty smile. His throat burned, even as the salve started to do its job cutting through the pain on his skin. He suspected he wouldn’t be singing for a while yet.

He waited up for a bit despite himself, until long after the bar downstairs had closed and the patrons had shuffled out the door. The room felt too big, too empty, the single bed a cavernous void without Geralt's bulk to tuck himself up against, safe and protected. Geralt had assumed Jaskier wouldn't be back tonight, likely. Or at least, that's what he told himself. It made it sting a little less, this feeling in his chest, heavy and painful.

He settled into bed eventually, eyes burning and throat tight, and fell into a fitful sleep.

When Geralt turned back up the next morning, he didn’t say anything about the ring of bruises, and that hurt worse, somehow.

#witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #lizard writes #witcher train #rating: teen #part 1

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a-simple-imagine · 4 years ago

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Playing With Fire

Synopsis: When things don't go quite as planned, a bitter duo is led to fight for their lives while resolving locked away feelings.

Pairing: Hermione Granger x reader

Words: 3.8k+

A/N - This was a collab with the very talented @mionemymind. They started it off and then I wrote the endings. I do so hope you guys enjoy it

Warnings - Blood, violence, mentions of injury and swearing.

Oh bloody fucking hell, how did we get here?

Being surrounded by death eaters definitely was not the most pleasant place of situations to be in. Having been separated from the boys, they found themselves being chased through the woods of all places. Trying their best to fight them off but it was proving to be difficult as spells were being fired left and right. Hermione led the charge with Y/N following in toe; stumbling forward the other collapsed to the floor abruptly. Reaching out Hermione helped them to their feet and they continued on like nothing happened.

“You got a plan, Granger?” Y/n asks, grabbing her attention. The two of them backed up until their feet reached the edge of a cliff; glancing down it had to be at least a fifty-foot drop. Hermione racked her brain for any kind of way out but it seemed hopeless. Y/N seemed to be searching for a way out too, she could practically see the gears turning in their brain. Their only saving grace was a big boulder they were using as cover.

“I’m thinking,” Hermione responded in an annoyed tone and Y/n just rolled her eyes. “I don’t see you coming up with any bright ideas.”

“Well according to you, I don’t even have a brain to use.” This time, Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Are you seriously bringing that up right now?!” Y/n bit her tongue. They shouldn’t be fighting right now, Hermione knew that. It was only going to lead to their ruin especially if they didn’t come up with something soon. She watched as Y/N peered over the top of the rock, there was no doubt in her mind they had no chance of getting through the death eaters alive. They were outnumbered and who knows if they were going to bring more. Y/n turned back to the edge of the cliff. There was a loud waterfall to their left that seemingly led directly to a long river. Rocks of varying sizes lined the edge. Any wrong move and the impact would prove fatal. Y/N began rolling up her sleeves. “What are you doing?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any gillyweed in that little purse of yours, would you?” Hermione shook her head no but still had this ridiculous look of confusion on her face. Why on earth would she have brought gillyweed of all things? It wasn’t exactly something she could find on short notice. If they encountered water they had an assortment of other ways to survive; the bubblehead charm was the first that came to mind. “Well, there’s only one way.” And before she could object or figure out what was happening, Y/n wrapped Hermione in her arms and stepped off the edge. The wind was brisk as they plummeted into freezing cold uncertainty. Hermione’s grip around Y/N tightened significantly as they sunk deeper and deeper but then the river’s current brought them back up and down a rough path; ripping the two of them apart.

The water thrashed them around violently like a little rag doll who had accidentally fallen in. Repeated dragged in and out of the water; choking up water that strived to fill their airways. It felt like a lifetime when the two were spat out into a calm lake.

Y/N finally managed to reach her again, pulling Hermione out onto the bank where they both collapsed. Hermione managed to stand; hunched over and desperate for air as her entire body filled with rage. How idiotic… no reckless, could a person be to just jump off a cliff? They could have died; at least the death eaters may have offered to let them surrender; it was unlikely but still. “Are you… bloody… insane?!” The brunette scolded between shallow breaths. “You… could’ve… killed us!” It took a moment but Hermione finally noticed. Her eyes widening as the white of Y/N’s shirt was now stained dark red as she wriggled against the ground. “What happened?” Panic set in as Hermione rushed to Y/n’s side, pulling up the shirt carefully to get a better look. A pain radiated deep in Hermione’s chest as she stared at the damage. It looked… painful and raw. Even if they had hit rocks, it was unlikely that they were the only cause. Had Y/N been hit by a spell? It would explain the stumble which Hermione had put down to clumsiness.

“I’m fin-“ Hermione brushed her fingers delicately across the skin under the large gashes, the other’s words cut off by a loud wince. Kneeling beside Y/n, Hermione rummaged through her purse in search of a certain little potion. She could fix this. Everything would be okay. Y/N would be okay. They came this far, they couldn’t stop now. She grew more anxious and frustrated with each passing second as she shifted through bottles, books and other essentials. “Accio dittany.” Hermione caught the small bottle that flew out and tossed the bag aside.

“It’s-it’s gonna sting, okay?” She said nervously but she never expected an answer because it wasn’t really a question. Hermione was simply trying to prepare Y/N for the pain. It was hard watching someone she cared about so deeply suffer in such a way. To feel like she was the cause for making them drift off from the plan. How could she have been so stupid? They should have just stuck with the boys. Then maybe this all could have been avoided; they’d certainly wouldn’t be dripping wet. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. Were they a response of concern or guilt? Perhaps both. Unscrewing the top, Hermione pinched the pipette to collect some of the liquid inside. Her hands shaking, but the blood that dripped from her fingertips was more apparent. “You’re- you’re gonna be alright.” One drop. Two drops. Y/N withered in the mud, desperately trying to muffle the painful groans that erupted from their throat. They were harsh on the ears. The pain in Hermione’s chest sank deeper. “Ju-just a bit more, I promise.” The crack in her voice betrayed her brave face. Hermione was scared. Scared this wouldn’t work and she’d have to watch someone so special to her die. Scared that even if it did the death eaters would find them anyway. Scared of the battle they would be running into. What she wouldn’t give to go back to a time when her world didn’t feel like it was crashing down around her. A stray tear descended down her flushed cheek as Hermione quickly applied a few more drops. Watching as the wounds slowly began to heal themselves. It was hard to tell if the pain was subsiding but she assumed by Y/N’s stillness that it was fading too. A sigh of relief left Hermione’s lips with the knowledge that Y/N was going to be alright… at least for now. They had to keep moving if they wanted to stay ahead of the death eaters. Hermione’s gaze lingered on the cliff they just stupidly jumped off but only for a moment before turning back to Y/N. “We have to go. We’re not safe yet.” It was going to be a struggle considering the previous injury as well as the cold that now nipped at their skin thanks to them being soaked but they had to try. Hermione placed Y/N’s arm around her neck. Helping them slowly upright but not without a little stumble first. All of their weight was placed on Hermione’s shoulders as they hobbled away from the lake and back among the trees. No words were shared between them. What even was there to say anymore?

It was close to a mile before it became too much. Hermione was struggling to stay upright as more weight was pushing against her. Y/N seemed to be on the verge of collapsing which wasn’t a good sign. “Stop… please,” was but a whisper in her ear. Carefully, Hermione lowered the other to the ground. Rolling her neck and stretching her muscles as she surveyed the area for any potential danger. “I can’t- I can’t keep going.”

“We have to,” Hermione explained, the desperation clear in her voice. “They’ll be looking for us.”

“I can’t.” Y/N hissed pathetically, “I don’t feel… good. I just… I’m gonna stay here. You go on without me.”

“I’m not leaving you.” They would get out of this together or die trying. Y/N shuffled back slowly towards a nearby tree, leaning back against its trunk.

“If you stay they’ll just get us both,” Y/N voice was beginning to drift. Hermione kept her eyes on her, watching such a feeble attempt to pretend everything was okay. “You’re gonna do so much more for the wizarding world than I-” she stopped to cough- “ever could so if one of us needs to make… it’s- it’s you, Hermione.”

Hermione? Y/N never called her that anymore; not since they broke up anyway. She always saw it as one way the other was trying to distance themselves from her; trying to respect the fact that they weren’t what they used to be. Her heart ached at what Y/N was implying now. The value of a life was not subject to how much they plan to achieve. Hermione put so much pressure on herself to get good grades, to know as much about everything as she possibly could it may seem like she valued it more than anything else but she didn’t. It was important but so were the relationships she had come to cherish. Despite their break up, Y/N would always be special to her. It didn’t matter that they often complained about studying or had a reckless approach towards magic; they didn’t deserve less because of it. Hermione may have tried to push Y/N away but they always came back. They were always there to support her when she needed it so maybe now it was time to return the favour. She couldn’t bear to see Y/N give up on themselves so easily. “Blimey, Y/N,” Hermione expressed sharply. “I’m not just going to leave you here.” There was desperation behind Hermione’s brown eyes; silently pleading with her friend to realise that they were in this together. But the desperation in her voice was masked by anger. “Are you seriously giving up on me? You just pulled me off a cliff but now it’s too much?”

“I almost died, Hermione. Chill.”

“No,” She growled, surprising her tired friend. “I will not chill.” Hermione took a deep breath, settling her nerves. It didn’t feel right shouting at someone in such bad shape but they couldn’t understand how hard this was. How confusing it was. How much guilt she was carrying right now. “The Y/N I knew would never just give up when things got tough.”

“The Y/N you knew didn’t almost die.” Despite how quietly they were talking, the bark behind their words was mighty vicious. “The Y/N you knew wasn’t… slowing you down. The Y/N you knew… wouldn’t be able to handle if she got you killed alongside her.”

Hermione sighed softly. “I’d rather die beside you than leave you alone for them to find. I’m staying. It’s not up for discussion.” Whipping out her wand, Hermione got to work putting up a protective ward around the two of them; just small enough to surround them and the tree Y/N was leaning against. Once finished, she sat down beside the other. “You have so much to offer the world Y/N. You shouldn’t sell yourself short.” Hermione placed her hand softly on the other’s knee. “I think we’ll both do great things once we get out of here.”

“If we get out of here,” Y/N replied quietly.

“When we get out of here.” Technically the odds were kind of complicated and they swung massively towards not getting out of here but for once, Hermione didn’t care for logic. “We’re gonna be okay. We just have to get back to the castle.”

Y/N seemed to drift off after that as Hermione sat beside them on guard duty. She was almost certain the death eaters would show up at any second and then it was game over. The gentle, shallow, breathing of her friend brought a bittersweet smile to her lips. Y/N was in a worse condition than she had originally thought but at least right now they shared a moment of peace. The creepy noises that often haunt forests were actually welcomed as Hermione stared under the darkening sky. It was the first taste of calmness they had experienced in a long time. It was hard not to countdown the seconds until it was ruined and they’d have to go back to fighting to survive.

The crunching of leaves brought Hermione to attention; something or someone was coming. Taking out her wand, Y/N stirred awake. “How long was I-”

“Shush,” Hermione whisper-yelled. Grip tightening her wand.

“Why-”

“Shhhhhh!” She hissed. The sound grew closer and in a flash, there were death eaters all around. As quietly as possible, Hermione stood up slowly. Y/N followed her lead but it was obvious, she was still feeling groggy.

“What do we do?” Y/N asked.

“I… don’t know,” Hermione shrugged. They could stay put and hope the death eaters don’t notice or they could fight. The castle couldn’t be much further, right? “I think we just have to keep going.”

“For real? Hermione, we can’t possibly win this, there’s like fifteen of them and two of us- we can’t possibly win.”

“It’s either we fight or wait around to die, Y/N. We can’t hide out in the woods forever.” With a heavy sigh, Y/N took out her wand too. They just had to survive. They could do that. “On three, okay?”

“I’ve got your back. If we’re gonna die, might as well go out fighting.” Y/N offers up a smile but Hermione could see it faltering. There was fear behind those tired eyes and for a second she thought that maybe this was a bad idea. The other was in no condition to be fighting but Hermione couldn’t just sit around and do nothing anymore.

“One…” Hermione returned her friend's smile, forcing her confidence to surface.

“Two,” Y/N hummed, meeting Hermione’s gaze. “T-“

Before she could finish, Hermione took a leap of faith and connected their lips in a messy embrace. It was confusing and unexpected; she wasn’t even sure she knew she was gonna do it before it happened. It had just felt right in the moment and they were gonna die anyway. “Three,” Hermione whispered against Y/N’s lips as she pulled away. And with a shaky breath, the young witch brought down the wards.

Snapping out of the moment, Y/n fired her wand directly at the group of death eaters causing a huge explosion to erupt. Solid ground and clumps of dirt went flying alongside several of Voldemort’s followers. "Cover me!” Given the small distraction, Y/n cast fiendfyre.

“What in bloody-” Hermione’s words trailed off as she witnessed an enormous wave of yellow and orange jet out of Y/N’s wand. The flames rapidly engulfed the space between them and the death eaters. The roar of burning hot flames sent the death eaters running to safety and Hermione backed up a little. Her eyes narrowed in on a couple of strays “I don’t think so.” Using the fallen tree near them, Hermione had sent it flying through the flames and slamming into the death eaters. Her stomach sank but she’d push through; death was a casualty of war. It was the only way. Only a couple seconds had passed, however, there was now a giant wall of flames towering over them. If she hadn’t been standing behind Y/N, she was sure the flames would have engulfed her. The heat radiated everywhere along with the devastation the spell caused. The flames were so bright and fierce, it almost felt like her skin was on fire. It was hard to navigate their surroundings with so much fire around them. Every so often she’d notice the flash of a spell fired in their direction and so far their success in dodging was pure luck. Blocking a curse with protege, Hermione raised her wand. “Stupefy!” A scream was cut short as they fell back into the flames. Hermione glanced back at Y/n to see a proud smirk on her face. It was a little worrying how much pleasure she seemed to be deriving from this fight or maybe she was just grateful they had each other’s back. Either way, it brought along with it a warm feeling that was fighting with the pit in her stomach.

“Won’t hurt a fly my ass.” Hermione rolled her eyes but there was a tiny, wobbly smile on display. With a small flick of Y/n’s wand, the flames morphed into that of a ferocious dragon that targeted the group. Quickly, Y/N grabbed Hermione’s hand and they ran for their life. Looking back, Hermione saw that there were still death eaters on their tail.

“Expulso!” Debris flew everywhere as two death eaters were hit with the spell. Hermione was going to cast another when she was abruptly dragged to the floor; Y/N dropped her hand to support herself. Hermione jumped up sharply but her friend remained on their hands and knees breathing raggedly. The young witch reached for Y/N but they shook her off.

“I- I’m fine.” Hermione let out a huff of a laugh, they didn’t look fine but she couldn’t help where she wasn’t wanted. Turning around, she fired spell after spell to keep the death eaters at bay as the other scrambled behind a tree. Hermione ducked out of the way too.

“Do you think you can keep going?”

“What choice… do I… have?” Hermione wasn’t sure how much more Y/N could take but they were right.

Avada kedavra. At the sound of the killing curse, Hermione was yanked flush against the other; shields in their arms. Only a split second later, the blast of green flew past them. Hermione wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline pumping in her veins or how her heart was going to beat out of her chest, but the need to kiss Y/n rose up within her. The two didn’t have much of a height difference. Y/n was only a couple inches taller, however, their faces were only centimetres away. As Y/n peaked to see their enemy, Hermione’s breath had caught in her throat. For just a moment, Hermione was awestruck at the person in front of her. This was the very same Y/n that she had consistently lectured for not taking her classes seriously. The same person that joked alongside Fred and George at any possible moment. This was the same person that just saved her life. Snapping out of her thoughts, Hermione caught Y/N’s gaze, “Do you have a plan?”

With a devilish smirk, Y/n responded with, “Dance with me, Granger.” With no other thought in mind, Y/n grabbed her hand and spun her out into the open. A very confused Hermione Granger shot the other a confused and somewhat annoyed look but as the death eaters focused on her, spells were shot back in defense.

“Sectumsempra!” The enemies came to an abrupt stop before collapsing to the floor. Hermione wasn’t familiar with that spell, only heard it in passing when Harry mentioned it. Where had Y/N even learnt it? With only two left, the duo quickly yelled, “Expelliarmus!”

After disarming them, Hermione sent another explosion towards them, completely obliterating the enemy. With heavy breathing, the two glanced at each other with small smiles. They had done it. But as quickly as the moment arrived, it was soon ruined by the distinct call of more death eaters. With all the energy they had left, Y/n ran towards Hermione and had started another infernal spell. This time, the flames surrounded them in a circle causing mass damage to any that stepped close. “What is your obsession with fire?” Y/n smirked at Hermione and grabbed her hand once again. Creating a gap in the fire formation, the two of them ran as fast as they possibly could.

How they managed to get to the castle despite all odds was beyond anyone’s guess but they did it. They managed to get to the castle with just a few scratches and smoke. Y/N still looked like she could do with some TLC but there wasn’t exactly time.

“That was-“ Hermione started at the same time as her friend decided to speak.

“So-”

The two bore tired smiles. “You go first.”

“I was just gonna say that was… crazy. I think I’m ready for bed.”

“You could do with it, you look awful.” Hermione teases, hoping it didn’t come across as offensive.

“That’s the look I’m going for- I call it my almost died in the middle of a war look.”

She chuckled a little. Hermione knew better than to think the fight was over, it was far from, but being here right now with Y/N, she felt nothing short of content. “I’m surprised we made it back here. I thought for sure we wouldn’t make it.”

“Is that why you kissed me?”

With a look of bewilderment, Hermione looked towards the other; however, she wasn’t confused at all. “What are you referring to?”

With a strained groan, Y/N pushed themselves up from against the wall. “Before everything happened? You just kissed me out of nowhere.”

“Yes?” Hermione shrugged a little.

“So maybe we should… talk about it?” Y/N’s voice grew quieter towards the end.

“It didn’t mean anything,” She bit back defensively but her cheeks were dusted in a deep shade of pink. “I just got caught up in the moment and thought we were gonna die.” Had it meant something? Did her heart betray her head by holding on to lingering feelings for the other? “We’re not getting back together if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t,” Y/N’s voice was sickeningly sweet which suggested she was lying. She wore a knowing smirk; one Hermione knew well and often didn’t like. Could she see through the walls she was very quickly putting back up. “I just… it was nice is all. Unexpected but nice.”

It was nice; Hermione thought so too. It felt nostalgic. Reminded her of old times back when things felt normal… well, normal for Hogwarts. It was a time she would willingly go back to right now. Maybe the kiss had been a result of a desire to return to those times. A desire for comfort in the arms of a former lover before their demise that never came. However, it didn’t feel right to leave the questions unanswered. Hermione took a deep breath. “I-” A loud bang bounced off the walls of the castle, startling the two of them. They couldn’t be sure what the cause was or even where it came from but they probably shouldn’t wait around to find out. They may as well run back into danger, not to mention, they needed to find the boys. “We’ll continue this later,” she reached for Y/N’s hand and offered up a brave, determined smile. “Let’s go.” Hermione knew the conversation didn’t end the way she wanted, but deep in heart, she knew it was open to new possibilities.

#Hermione Granger #hermione x reader #hermione granger x reader #harry potter fanfiction #hermione granger imagine

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sickficsies-and-whumpsies · 3 years ago

Note

Diff person- bUT I really loved how you write the sick inumaki!! I wonder can I ask abt the second years but as the first year where it is their first time dealing w/ inumaki injured throat? And he also got a bad fever and fatigue as a side effects. Thank you!

Aw, thank you, you're so kind!!

TW: blood & injury, suffocation, fever.

1.1k words, Gen.

ーーー

If Cursed Speech worked on himself, Inumaki would definitely use it now. He'd force himself to stop, to leave it to the others or engage hand-to-hand combat. Instead, command after command, he fights on, restless, determined to get the job done with minimal damage to his surroundingsー a small but populous neighbourhood near the hillsー and to the citizens.

Maki and Panda are not far, busy fighting against a horde of minor cursed spirits that must be stopped nonetheless.

But the one in front of him doesn't relent. Which doesn't make sense. Inumaki's ability has never failed to hit the target, not once, it has never slipped out of control. He curses under his breath, mouth filled with copper as he spits some onto the pavement.

His vision is tunneling, swirling horribly, whole body shaking as Inumaki's grip onto consciousness is rapidly fading, weak, the tether thin. He doesn't, not yet.

Distant, his friends' voices call out his name, distracting the spirit with their presence. The young sorcerer takes advantage of the split second of confusion and lunges at the threat, grabbing at its head, nails sinking into the muddled skin, the creature's anthropomorphic body lanky but so very strong, much stronger than him, physically at least.

The cursed spirit futilely tries to wiggle out of the teen's vice grip, but there's only so much it can do when Inumaki all but smashes his forehead against the spirit's.

"Explode!!" he yells, crimson pooling in his mouth, choking him.

He lets go of the thing, taking a couple of tentative steps back before he trips and falls, back colliding with the floor, hard.

Chunks of dead meat fall from the sky, and he realises that at least his last attempt was not to no avail. His relief is short-lived when Inumaki comes to the painful, chilling realisation that he can't breathe.

He coughs and sputters, eyes wide and glassy, his lips tinged in blue and red as he desperately makes an effort to roll over, failing at the task.

He feels like he's drowning. He's fairly sure he is, actually. He chokes, sputtering, face up as tiny specks of his own blood get spat at the sky and fall back onto his ashen, cold face. Lilac eyes shift out of focus, the sky fading out, pale orange clouds melting in the endless emptiness above him, one last glance at them before he gets dragged down into the void.

It doesn't last.

Vertigo claws at his guts as his whole body is propped into a sitting position, strong hands hitting his back and making a sliding movement from the bottom of his spine to the base of his neck, repeatedly.

And Inumaki heaves rivers of thick blood trickling out of his respiratory system and onto his own uniform pants. Voices fill his ears, but the boy doesn't quite remember how to function now, how hearing noises and understanding their meaning is connected, how it must be processed.

He vomits the blood, already-pale complexion grey, skin damp and clammy.

It's only an eternity later, or what feels like it, that whatever has gotten ahold of him lays him down, onto his side. Inumaki pants, breathing through his mouth, his lungs on fire, drained.

"...ge, Toge!! Hang in there, okay? We called Gojou-sensei, he'll be here soon. Alright, buddy?"

Inumaki lets his gaze shift, squinting. He coughs, harsh, immediately hissing at the pain. His throat stings.

Warm tears trail down his cold face and onto the blood-stained floor, but he blames the overexertion. Definitely not the near-death experience taking a toll on him.

"Can you sign?" Maki asks, crouching next to Panda, in front of Inumaki, "It's okay if you can't, or don't want to. Focus on breathing." she adds, softer.

"I can." the movements are clipped, shaky, "I'm okay. My throat is injured. It's my ability's fault."

"Oh. Is this... an ordinary occurrence?"

"Yes. It will heal. I'm tired."

"So you're sure you're not bleeding internally?" Panda frets, facial features scrunched up in worry.

"I'm sure. It's my throat. I'm sleepy."

Maki and Panda exchange a few hushered words, and Inumaki decides to let himself drift.

ー

"Oh. You're up."

He glances around, confusion washing over him. Inumaki's in his own room, in his own bed, in his own pajamas, too. Hastily, he sits up, chest tight in panic.

The world tilts and swirls horribly around him, and a pair of strong hands push him down onto the thick pillows.

"Idiot, don't. You're running a high fever, and the painkillers are bound to make you feel dizzy. Lie down."

Inumaki takes a deep, steadying breath, then another. Maki's blurry form is sitting on the edge of his bed, her hand stretched out to fix the cold patch on his foreheadー he hadn't noticed it upon waking up, which, he realises, is probably a good, reliable indicator of how out of it he is.

"Fever?" he signs, eyebrows arched in confusion.

She nods. "39,7°C last time I checked. You also did a number on your throat, and Ieiri-sensei prescribed you enough painkillers and lenitive syrups to take out a horse."

Maki then gets up, getting closer to him. She adjusts the pillows so that her friend is sitting up a bit more, and hands him a glass of cold water.

Inumaki takes it gladly, but when he gulps down the water he realises that it tastes like copper, he cringes, setting the half-full glass down. A hand absentmindedly shoots up, fingers brushing against his throat, almost scared to make contact with his own skin.

"...I'm sorry."

"And you should be." Panda's voice comes from the door, and he steps in, holding a transparent bag filled with yoghurts and jelly packets. He lets it fall. "Why didn't you warn us!? Why didn't you tell us aboutー whatever that was!?"

He hesitates, eyes low. "I don't know."

After a second, he raises his hands again, still shaky. "I never thought I'd have to go that far. I'm sorry."

"It was really fucking scary to watch you puke blood, man." Panda pushes, "I thought you'd died. You almost choked to death on your own blood!!"

"Panda." Maki's stern voice leaves no place for arguments. She returns her gaze to Inumaki, "Panda is right, it was scary to watch. But... I think it was scarier for you. So, we will talk about it once you're ready and well. Right now, all you need to focus on is recovering your strengths."

She pauses, shooting a knowing look at Panda. The Cursed Corpse hums.

"We're... glad you're okay."

"Yes, we are."

Inumaki smiles. He feels like he's floating, body light, head empty, filled with clouds, aware that he will have the chance to see them again.

ーーー

Let me know what you think of this, please!! Also, if you have ao3 and want this fic to be gifted to you, let me know.

September 5, 2021.

#it's 00.15 dang it. if only i'd been faster...#my fic #jjk #jjk sickfic #sickfic #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen sickfic #fever #blood & injury #inumaki toge #panda jjk #zenin maki #whumpee inumaki toge #jsl #japanese sign language

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lillotte17 · 4 years ago

Text

Blossoms on a Bough

Fix-it/filler for the end of episode 36!!!

The first thing Wen Kexing notices, once his mind has floated up towards any sense of consciousness, is a bright cool light shining on his face. His brows twitch downwards in irritation, the intensity of it stinging his eyes even while they are still closed. His body feels like lead, and his thoughts are thick and muddy. He just wants to ignore the light and drift back off to sleep.

Wherever he is, he seems to have landed on something relatively soft and warm. It is surprising, since his general ideas about the netherworld involve darkness and cold, but he is certainly not going to complain. Perhaps, given the long list of his transgressions, his soul flew right past the Yellow River and dropped straight into hell, and now he is being fried in a pot just like that chicken that had chased Chengling around the Four Seasons Manor. The thought makes him want to laugh, but there is an odd tightness in his chest, so the best he can manage is an incredibly weak cough.

A faint rustling of cloth sounds by his ear as whatever he is reclining on shifts slightly. There is a vague sense of presence nearby, but he cannot tell more than that. Almost against his will, he cracks his eyes open to see who might be trapped in the stew pot with him, but there is only a dark looming blur surrounded by pale watery light. It makes him think of Zhou Zishu; his face bathed in sunshine, in moonshine, in starlight. He always seemed to glow with something intangible and dream-like. And Wen Kexing -helpless little month- could do nothing else but follow after it.

“Ah Xu,” he exhales in the barest of whispers.

A scent lingers in the air around him, crisp and lightly musky. It reminds him of burying his fingers in long dark tresses. Of the tenderness and care taken combing the tangles out of them afterwards. Of sliding his own hair pin into the carefully twisted knot at the crown of Zhou Zishu’s head. He should have brought him a different one to replace it, he thinks blearily. The key was most likely lost or broken in all of that snow, and now he will have nothing to remember him by.

This place is strange, wherever it is. Soothing and disorientating all at once. Is it some sort of hallucination? Did his soul get lost somewhere between life and death? Is he a true ghost now, doomed to wander the world in hopeless despair, witnessing joys he can no longer take part in? Thoughts spin around in his head in a billion tiny fragments. He cannot quite seem to catch hold of any of them, or arrange them in a pattern that makes sense.

“Am I dead?” he wonders aloud, his voice thin and raspy, not expecting an answer.

“You fucking better not be,” a cross reply rumbles out from somewhere above him.

Wen Kexing blinks. The sun still burns his eyes, but after a few moments of intense squinting, the dark blur leaning over him reconfigures itself into a familiar and beloved face. Zhou Zishu, leaning back against a dusty wall with Wen Kexing pulled more than half way into his lap.

“What…happened?” Wen Kexing wonders, head positively spinning in bafflement. Now that he is waking up a bit more, he is becoming more aware of his body’s aches and pains. It feels like a horse kicked him in the chest and then he fell into a river and drowned. Even wincing hurts.

“Something went wrong with the ritual,” Zishu tells him. His voice is raw and his eyes are bloodshot. He looks as haggard as Wen Kexing feels. “You collapsed. Your heart meridians were severely damaged, and your hair turned white. You must have used too much of your internal force. It has been more than three days since you lost consciousness and…I thought…”

His voice splinters and he trails off, looking away from him for a moment.

“But…it worked?” Wen Kexing presses, trying to feebly grip at Zhou Zishu’s sleeve, “You can hear me talking again now, so that means that it worked, right? The rest is fine, so long as it saved you.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Zhou Zishu answers, the first traces of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Yes. You are here.” Wen Kexing echoes, as though he still cannot quite believe it, “And…I am here, too.”

“You are.” Zishu confirms, his arms tightening around him, carefully tugging him up until he is all but leaning into his chest. “It was a near thing, though. My medical knowledge is limited, and even with the Yin Yang book, I was not certain that I could heal you.”

“Rong Xuan’s wife allegedly used the teachings in the book to heal his heart meridians and other serious injuries when he was near death several times over,” Wen Kexing hums thoughtfully, casually tilting his head against Zishu’s shoulder, “But she was an experienced physician. You have had no training, and yet you saved me on the first try. You must possess some kind of natural affinity for it. Ah Xu, you have so many talents, I am having a hard time keeping track of them all.”

“It had nothing to do with affinity,” Zhou Zishu huffs, sounding exasperated and perhaps even the tiniest bit embarrassed, “It was pure dumb luck.”

“Eh?”

“The Four Seasons Sect has a special technique that cripples someone’s heart meridians,” he explains somberly, a humorless smirk on his face, “I used it against Prince Jin to keep him alive, but bedridden. My master taught it to me, and as far as I know, I am the only one left alive who knows how to perform it.”

“That is very interesting, Ah Xu, but I am not certain I understand what it has to do with dumb luck,” Wen Kexing says smilingly.

“My master…he also told me how to counter the technique, so that the person’s heart meridians could be healed again and their qi could flow properly,” Zhou Zishu continues, turning his head slightly to directly meet Wen Kexing’s gaze. “I did not have much hope when I opened the Yin Yang book. You were slipping away, and there was no time for in-depth research. But…when I found the section detailing how someone with damaged meridians might be cured, it was obvious that…the techniques I learned from my master were based on this knowledge.”

“So…that means…my parents…?” Wen Kexing looks a bit lost at the revelation.

Zhou Zishu nods.

“It is likely that Lady Yue Feng’Er and your parents shared this precious knowledge with their friends, and possibly even helped my master develop this skill. I was only able to save you because of this.”

Wen Kexing furrows is brows, his thoughts whirling and his emotions complex. He seemingly stares at the dark blue of Zhou Zishu’s lapels for what feels like ages, looking but not seeing, pensive and moody. Finally, he lets out a very tired-sounding sigh.

“And I only managed to save you because that dumb bastard Rong Xuan stole the manual for the Six Cultivation Techniques,” he says, sounding bitter, “But maybe no one would have needed all this saving in the first place if that old monster had never let his idiot disciple leave the mountain to begin with.”

Zhou Zishu frowns down at him.

“I know, I know,” he mumbles, a bit sulky, “The past is past. Zhao Jing was punished and the rest are dead. There is no point stewing on it now. I have just…been angry about it for so long, sometimes I forget that I don’t have to be anymore. Be patient with me, Ah Xu.”

“Hm?” Zishu blinks, as though suddenly coming back to himself. “Oh, it wasn’t about that.”

“Then what?”

“I was just thinking that…it really could not have been anyone else,” Zhou Zishu tells him slowly, intensity burning in his dark eyes. “I said it was only dumb luck, because I never believed in destiny all that much before. If you want to achieve something in this world, you have to be willing to create it for yourself. But…for things to end up this way… It had to be you, and it had to be me, didn’t it?”

Wen Kexing bursts out laughing, utterly delighted.

“I always knew you had a soft heart beneath that tough exterior,” he grins, slightly breathless, with an almost pleasant ache in his ribs, “But Ah Xu, I never imagined that you were secretly a romantic.”

“Shut up,” Zishu grunts, pinching his arm until he yelps, “Who is romantic?”

“Ai, there is no need to be shy about it now, is there?” Wen Kexing says pleadingly, giggling to himself all the while, “There is no one here except us.”

“That’s right,” Zhou Zishu agrees blithely, a truly terrifying expression stealing across his face, “There is no one on this entire mountain except for you and me.”

“Ah Xu, don’t do anything rash,” Wen Kexing cajoles with a hint of genuine nervousness, “I only teased you a little bit, and I am still in such a delicate state of health. If you throw me out in the snow and beat me, I really won’t be-”

Zhou Zishu kisses him then, and whatever he won’t be promptly flies out of his head like a startled flock of birds.

The kiss is softer than he would have guessed, if he had gotten a moment to anticipate it. Clumsy, but tender. Hasty, but sincere. The mouth pressed so suddenly against his own trembles just slightly right before it pulls away. A thousand years too soon.

It is nowhere near the first time they have kissed each other, but Wen Kexing is almost always the instigator. It suits his own preferences to take the lead in most physical forms of intimacy anyway, so he would never complain about it. However, it does make the times Zhou Zishu reaches for him first feel more…something. Something that makes his heart full, and his eyes itch.

It makes him feel as though he is not only being accepted by this man, but chosen by him, too. As his partner. As his equal. As his friend. Lovers and soulmates and all the rest.

Wen Kexing is not certain that anyone else has ever chosen him before.

Not when there were other, better, options on hand, at any rate.

He swallows thickly, gazing up at Zhou Zishu with wide, startled eyes. Little flecks of cold mountain sunlight catch in the dark sweep of the other man’s hair almost like snowflakes. His grin is wide and fierce. Buoyant and hopeful in a way he has never been in all the time they have known each other. He looks impossibly beautiful, and horribly pleased with himself for managing to derail Wen Kexing’s usual babbling. There might be the slightest touch of pink to his ears, though.

“Ah Xu,” Wen Kexing chokes out.

I love you.

But the words get stuck in his throat.

“What?” Zishu laughs, “Do you ever get tired of calling me?”

“No.” Wen Kexing offers him a weak smile in return, shifting out of his hold a little so they can sit facing one another.

Zhou Zishu heaves an exasperated sigh, but his eyes remain bright, his expression one of incalculable fondness.

“Is that all you were saying during the ritual?” he wonders, half joking, “You just sat there calling my name?”

“Huh?”

“You said earlier that you had tried speaking to me, but my hearing had gone,” Zhou Zishu reminds him, “What did you say?”

“Oh, yes, it was mostly just your name over and over,” Wen Kexing nods, “Plus a few embarrassing personal anecdotes I felt like sharing. Once I knew you had no way to stop me, I really couldn’t help myself.”

“Lao Wen.”

“Yes, Ah Xu?”

“After all we have been through together, what could you possibly still have to tell me that you think I would be unwilling to hear?”

Wen Kexing makes a face, caught outright.

“It…is not so much a matter of thinking you would not hear me out,” he admits carefully, “It is more that there are just things that are difficult to say to someone. The more important they are to you, the harder it gets, so between you and me… But when a man feels his end has come, all sorts of things seem to tumble out unwillingly.”

Zhou Zishu looks positively stricken.

“You could tell that the cultivation technique was backfiring?” he hisses out, gasping Wen Kexing by the shoulders, “And you still kept going?”

“What else could I do?” Wen Kexing asks helplessly, “If I had stopped wouldn’t we both die? Would it be better if I had starved to death with your corpse in my arms? Besides, that old monster promised me that this technique could save you, so no matter what the cost was going to be, of course I-”

“So, you knew there would be a cost already?” Zhou Zishu cuts him off, expression like a brewing storm cloud, “You knew this was likely going to injure you, and you did not even think to warn me first? We could have prepared beforehand! You could have looked through the Yin Yang book and point out things that I could use to help you in an emergency! Dammit, Lao Wen, I thought you were supposed to be smarter than this!”

“Was there really time for things like that?” Wen Kexing argues back, “Your senses were already dying out one by one, if we did not try the technique as soon as possible, you might not have been able to complete it! If I told you how risky it is, would you agree to it? Would you still let me try to save you?”

“I deserve the right to make that choice!” Zhou Zishu shouts hoarsely.

“You do!” Wen Kexing agrees just as hotly, “But I owe it to Chengling to save his family. And I owe it to our master to save his teachings. And I owe it to you most of all. I ruined your chance at happiness. To rebuild the Four Seasons with Chengling and the other new disciples. You threw it all away to try and avenge me… The number of people in this world who have been good to me are few enough to count on one hand. I would do anything for them, and you most of all. How could I live without repaying this debt?”

“And what if I hadn’t been able to save you?!” Zhou Zishu demands thunderously.

“I didn’t expect you to save me!”

For a few moments, the words seem to echo of the cold walls of the armory, bouncing back at them over and over. The silence that follows after them is deafening. Zishu’s eyes are red, and his hands are trembling on Wen Kexing’s biceps, but he looks as though he is about to breathe fire.

“Good,” he says finally, his voice low and deadly, “Very good. You feel like you owe me so much, but all you want to do is torture me.”

“What?” Wen Kexing baulks, “No! Ah Xu, that’s not what I-”

But before he can finish the thought Zhou Zishu has already pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace, his breathing erratic, and his face buried in the side of his neck. Wen Kexing makes a pained grunt, his ribs still tender from previous injury. It only makes Zishu’s grip on him tighten, however, holding onto him with a furious desperation.

“In such a short stretch of time, I have had to see you dead or dying before my eyes over and over again,” he mumbles thickly into the silk of Wen Kexing’s robes, “You spent all this time chasing me down, pestering me to let you stay by my side, begging me not to die, and telling me to find things to feel hopeful about. But now it seems as though you are set on leaving me behind.”

“I never wanted to leave you,” Wen Kexing protests, but his voice seems to have lost all of its strength, “I just wanted to keep you safe. Even if I died, and you had to be sad for a while, you have so much left to live for, and I wanted you to have it. I just wanted you to be…happy.”

“Bastard,” Zhou Zishu laughs wetly, “Wen Kexing, you really are…the absolute worst sort of person.”

Wen Kexing sags in his embrace, his heart plummeting down into the pit of his stomach. His head droops, white hair falling across his eyes. Utterly defeated.

“I know.”

Zhou Zishu finally pulls back from him. There are obvious tear tracks down his cheeks, but he still looks fierce, regardless. He takes Wen Kexing roughly by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“You are also…my happiness.”

Wen Kexing gapes at him, for once in his life completely at a loss for words. Seeing an opening, Zhou Zishu takes the opportunity to kiss him again. Harsher this time. Brief and chaste and biting. It does not seem to help the other man’s sense of bafflement in the slightest. Indeed, Lao Wen looks as though his soul might have just flown straight out of his body.

Zishu smiles at him again, but there is still something sharp and wounded at its edges.

“Eternity would be an empty place without you,” he says quietly, “How could you leave me to bear it alone?”

“I…I’m…sorry,” Wen Kexing sputters, as though he does not know what else to say. He finally reaches back for Zhou Zishu, cautiously taking hold of his wrists. The ache in his chest seems to have spread outward, and he is shaking so badly that he fears he might not be able to sit up straight much longer. “I’m sorry. I just did not… I did not know how else to save you.”

“Mn,” Zhou Zishu nods in understanding, “I suppose I can forgive you for it this time, although some part of me still would like nothing so much as to throw you outside and beat some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

“I will accept any punishment you want to give me,” Wen Kexing tells him earnestly.

“Alright,” Zhou Zishu grins, “Then pay me back with your whole life. Stay alive, and stay with me. Always.”

Wen Kexing blinks in surprise, but the next moment he is laughing. Dizzy with relief and unexpected joy. Marveling at the gifts that fate has blessed him with after so many years of hatred and heartache.

“I can do that.”

When Zhou Zishu wakes up later that night Wen Kexing is sitting at the opposite end of their makeshift bed in nothing but his under robe. His back is facing him, and he takes a moment to stare at the snowy cascade of his hair. The living proof of what Lao Wen would sacrifice for him. It looks beautiful on him, as everything else seems to, but Zishu thinks he prefers the rich dark brown that he was born with. This new color comes with a twinge of guilt.

Not that he would ever say so.

“Lao Wen,” he calls softly, “What are you doing?”

Wen Kexing’s shoulders stiffen in surprise.

“Don’t come over,” he replies, “I’m not finished yet.”

“Ai,” Zishu grins, scooting close enough to lightly tug at a few strands of that bone white hair, “But that just makes me want to come over even more.”

“I have a knife,” Lao Wen says coolly, “I will use it if I have to.”

“You left our bed in the middle of the night to play with a knife?” Zishu laughs, not intimidated in the least. “Why?”

“If you stop pestering me for a few minutes maybe you’ll find out,” Wen Kexing snaps. Zhou Zishu is not fooled, though. He had caught the sharp inhale of breath when he had said the words ‘our bed’, and he is all but certain that Lao Wen’s threats are empty.

“But you’ll catch cold,” he coaxes, slipping his arms about his waist and pressing a kiss into his shoulder. He obligingly resists the urge to peek at whatever secret Wen Kexing is fiddling with, though. The other man sighs, but does nothing to discourage him, as expected.

“The next time you accuse me of being insufferable, I want you to remember this conversation,” Wen Kexing says wryly.

“It must be your bad influence,” Zhou Zishu chuckles.

Wen Kexing hums noncommittally, going back to whatever he had been working on before. Zhou Zishu sits patiently behind him, leaning into the warm curve of his back, listening to the steady beating of his heart and the faint scraping sound of a blade chipping away at something. The proximity is comfortable, and the quiet almost meditative, and before long Zishu is already half way back to being asleep.

“Alright,” Lao Wen says finally, carefully pulling himself free of Zhou Zishu’s arms and turning to face him, “You can look now.”

Zishu has to shake himself a little to wake up again, but once he does, he finds that Lao Wen is holding out what appears to be an oddly shaped icicle.

“…What is it?” he asks after a few moments of trying to puzzle it out for himself.

Wen Kexing frowns.

“It’s a hair pin,” he tells him, as though it should be obvious.

“Ah.”

“What do you mean, saying ‘ah’ with such a doubting face?” Wen Kexing huffs in annoyance, “Of course it is a hair pin, what else would it be? You lost the one I gave you before, so now I have to give you a new one to replace it.”

“I lost the one you gave me before?” Zhou Zishu laughs.

“That’s right,” Wen Kexing nods seriously, “But I promise not to be mad about it.”

“Philanthropist Wen is too kind.”

“It’s true,” Lao Wen sighs dramatically, “People are always taking advantage of my generous nature.”

He firmly places the hair pin in Zhou Zishu’s hands. Upon closer inspection, it looks to be roughly shaped like a tree branch. There are two lumpy circles that might be meant to be flowers attempting to bloom from it. The finished product is crude, but the ice is clear and crystalline. Pretty, even despite the skill level of the craftsman.

“It is meant to be plum blossoms,” Wen Kexing admits somewhat sheepishly, “One bloom for each of us. There was meant to be a bud for Chengling, too, but I accidentally broke it off. Hopefully, that is not an inauspicious sign for him.”

“I see,” Zhou Zishu says, because he does see, and just like the morning he had woken up to find the Four Seasons Manor cleaned and Wen Kexing diligently repairing his master’s old painting, he feels very much like he wants nothing more than to pull the other man into his arms again.

“Ah Xu, will you accept it?” Wen Kexing asks, slightly trepidatious at his lack of reaction.

“Of course,” Zishu smiles easily, “But it’s made of ice, after all. If I wear it, it will likely melt or break in a day or so.”

“If it breaks, I will just make you a new one,” Wen Kexing says, his eyes soft. He plucks the hair pin from Zhou Zishu’s fingers, reaching up and carefully sliding it into the loose knot at the base of his ponytail. “I can make you a new one every day, if I have to. With any luck, they will eventually look less ugly.”

He takes Zhou Zishu’s hands in his own.

“There are still things I am not good at saying,” he tells him, “Things that I want to share with you. Things that you deserve to hear. Right now, my skills are not enough, but just like with the hair pin, if I keep working at it every day, eventually I can give you something worth having.”

Zhou Zishu tugs him down into his embrace. He thinks about kissing him. About pushing him down and pulling his robe open and showing him, again, how very much he is wanted. But Lao Wen is still recovering from injuries, and it would be a shame to snap his new hair pin tussling around in the sheets. So, he makes do with holding him close, for now. Tangling his fingers in hair the color of starlight.

“Say them, or don’t say them,” he says quietly against the shell of Wen Kexing’s ear, “Whatever they are, they have no bearing on your worth to me.”

“Doesn’t that seem like my current value is lower than mud?” Wen Kexing laughs nervously.

“It means you are treasured,” Zishu corrects him firmly, “There is no price that I would sell you for.”

“I suppose that means I can stop living in fear that you would truly try and sell me to a brothel.”

“You really are a brat.”

“Ah Xu?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

#word of honor #faraway wanderers #word of honor spoilers #wenzhou #wen kexing #zhou zishu #fic #this story did not listen to me AT ALL #these two NEVER listen to me!!!#I wanted to write domestic fluff about hair brushing #but noooo

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gucciwins · 4 years ago

Text

Ocean Save

Harry is not a good surfer but that doesn’t keep him out of the water. It’s his persistence that leads him to meeting Y/N, the paramedic who saved him as well as showed him how to properly surf.

Word count: 10,174 (it’s the first time i hit 10k so this story feels even more special to me.) Warnings: mention of cancer and death of a family member, smut, female pleasure

A/N: I wrote this because I got the inspiration for the last time I was down at a private beach and saw many wipeouts. Inspiration strikes anywhere.

This is basically a closing to the summer for me. Uni is starting back up, and I’m excited to be back. My writing has never been constant but I do have other stories in the works if any of you were wondering. As always thank you for taking the time to read my story. I love you.

Walking down towards the ocean, Harry felt the heat of the sand on his feet. He picks up his pace wanting to find a place to set his items down then jump right in. It's only going to get hotter as the day goes on, and he prefers to be in the water when that happens.

Harry came alone, not that he minds, he finds it relaxing. It also gives him time to meditate. He sets down his towel and surfboard when he spots a bright blue canopy a few feet away. If he's honest, it looks like it was hard work to put up. A girl is lying inside; she's got a book in her hand. Harry doesn't have the best vision meaning he can't recognize the book. The girl has her hair up in a messy bun with an oversized sweater to beat the cold breeze. She's got two bags lying next to her, a bright yellow one with a lilac hydro flask peeking out. Next is a smaller bag but it's thicker as if filled with more items, it has a thick white strap, and he's intrigued wondering what she could have inside, but not enough to bother her for all he knows it could be filled with more books.

Harry turns away from staring at her, grabs the borrowed board from Mitch, and heads out to the cold water. Harry doesn't let it faze him knowing his body will adjust to it soon enough. His short yellow shorts are his only choice of clothing, not providing much warmth.

He paddles out enough where he knows the rocks won't get him. He does not need a trip to the ER room.

Harry is successful in catching two small waves. He stands up a bit shaky but overall balanced. He doesn't remember everything Mitch taught him, but the basics should be enough. Harry isn't sure how long he's been out, but what he does know is that he's wiped out more than he would have liked.

Harry sees a wave approaching, and he debates a second too long because the next thing he sees, the wave is falling over him. He holds his breath and holds on tight to his board. As soon as he pushes up the surface, he lets out a gasp lying on the board, letting his lungs fill with air. Harry knows this means he has to call it a day. He doesn't even want to begin to think about how much saltwater he drank today.

He runs a hand through his curls to shake out as much sand as he can he turns his head to the left to look at the girl. She's still reading a small frown on her face. Harry lets out a short laugh, glad she didn't see him wipe out as hard as he did.

Other surfers out there, but he gets too nervous about approaching strangers and gets even more tongue-tied approaching a beautiful girl.

He dries himself off quickly, picks up the board, and heads to the parking lot reading to go home to a warm shower and a nice lunch.

Mitch and Sarah invited Harry out to the beach, and he was quick to accept because it's been a few days since they all had a day off from work. Mitch had given Harry new tips on how to improve after Harry told him what had happened. He also might have mentioned Sarah, the pretty girl he saw that he was too shy to approach.

Harry sets up around the same spot as last time and frowns when he doesn't see the canopy like the previous time, but it's not like he would be lucky enough to run into her again. Harry sits on his spread-out towel to put sunblock on his body. Mitch and Sarah are quietly talking as they set up their umbrella. Harry begins to scan the beach, surprised to see it empty for a warm day. There's a girl under a rainbow umbrella sunglasses pushing her hair back and what looks like a kindle in her hand. It's her, the girl from last time, well it seems to be. It might not be after all. Harry's not even sure why he's looking for her, not like he conversed with her.

Mitch ushers Harry into the ocean, reminding him to pop up fast and go out further out, seeing as the waves seem a bit bigger. Harry doesn't mind that he's going it alone, knowing that Mitch keeps an eye on him.

Harry fails to notice how strong the waves are. He sees on coming and begins paddling hard; once he's standing, he notices how fast the tide is, and in the next second, he's popping his head out of the water. Harry just nosedived, and he knows it was because of how fast the wave was coming.

Harry catches two waves. Then it settles for a moment. He uses this to catch his breath and look back at Mitch, who he sends a thumbs up to. Just as he turns around, a wave catches him by surprise. He laughs it off and gets into position.

Harry was not expecting to see two big waves coming at him; they are coming in strong with no way to avoid them. Harry turtle rolls but is still pushed around towards the bottom. Harry kicks hard to go to the surface, and when he does, he notices the board is split in two. Harry doesn't realize how close the waves brought him to the rocks. Another wave hits him, and he goes under, coming up to hold onto the rocks. One final wave seems to approach, and it's worse than the previous ones. Harry feels the stinging on his back, and as he pushes up. He coughs up saltwater, letting the gentle waves push him to land. Mitch and Sarah are standing on the shore, helping him stand, they are quick to sit him on their towel and begin to access his injuries.

Harry doesn't need to look at his back to know it's scraped back, just the air is making it sting. His right elbow is bleeding. The yellow shorts now have a long tear and lots of red.

He's not bleeding out, but it's also not good.

Harry hears voices speaking, but his ears are ringing that he can't understand what they are saying.

He's hissing the next second feeling water being poured on his cuts.

"Sorry," he hears an angelic voice tell him.

"Neck hurts?" She asks

"No, it's fine." He croaks out.

"I'm a paramedic. Just in case you don't think I know what I'm doing." The soft voice offers.

He shakes his head. "That's not it."

Harry meets her eyes as she washes out the cut on his thigh that doesn't look as bad anymore. It's her the girl from the last time he was here. She's beautiful up close, and Harry knows he never wants to look away.

"Just surprised I was able to get your attention away from your book." Harry laughs but is cut short when she puts water on his elbow.

"It was the yellow shorts." Harry laughs loud at her comment on his clothing choice.

"Knew they'd come in handy one day."

"If you really want to improve your surfing you'll have to start wearing a wetsuit. A pain to get on sometimes. Also easier to have a friend out with you." She shrugs.

"Mitch was watching out for me." He defends.

"Easier to watch from in the water." She teases, and he relaxes again.

Mitch and Sarah are standing on the side, smiling at him, and he smiles back. Harry knows how worried they must have been, he knows he was. The adrenaline was pumping but not anymore, allowing him to feel a bit more of the pain.

The water stings on his cuts, but she puts some cream on that will do something for his healing that he wasn't really paying attention to, too lost in looking at her hands and how gentle she was. She puts a gauze on the wounds then covers it with Kinesio tape. He feels funny, but he knows she's done when she pulls her hands away.

"You can head to the ER if you really need it, but you're not showing signs of shock or concussion, you should heal nicely over the next few weeks. Take some ibuprofen for the pain; otherwise, you're all set."

"Thank you so much." Sarah addresses her. "We wouldn't have known what to do without you."

"It's no problem, I was happy to be of help."

"Any way we can thank you," Mitch pauses, wanting her name.

"Y/N" She smiles, looking at all three of them. "You can thank me by keeping him out of the water for the next three weeks."

"That we can do," Mitch assures her.

Y/N turns the thick bag on her shoulder.

"Y/N" Harry calls out, Mitch helping him stand up.

She turns around, and Harry feels like she's glowing under the sun. He loses his confidence when she smiles at him.

"Thank you."

"Of course, Harry. Take care of yourself."

Harry lets her walk away and frowns. He's injured, and he may never surf again after this horrible day, but it could have been worse.

Maybe it is time to find a new hobby.

"Hi, Harry!" A cheery voice greets him.

Harry has just arrived at the shops searching for new swim shorts, not expecting to run into anyone. He purposely came during the middle of the week to avoid any and all run-ins. Harry doesn't hide his shock when he sees it's Y/N.

Y/N, the paramedic that helped him after his accident.

"You all healed up, it's been what three weeks?" Y/N smiles at him, standing near him and looking him up and down as if she could see through his clothing.

Harry nods. "Yes, three weeks. My friends took good care of me."

"Heading out soon?" She gestures to the ocean.

"Yes, next week, I'm heading out, and injuries are healed. Few new scars." Harry doesn't know why he said that he wasn't even planning on going surfing again.

"That's great." Y/N is all smiles. "How's the board?"

"Did not survive." He sighs. "It was Mitch's; he said it was no big deal."

"Do you not have your own board?"

"Mitch gifted me one, said some stuff about thickness, length, and width that I didn't understand. He wanted me to be safe when I go back in, so he says it's perfect. It really is nice, not that I know much about boards." Harry feels like he's oversharing.

"Did he teach you how to wax it?" Y/N asks eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, waiting for his reply.

"You wax a surfboard?" Harry is surprised at what he is learning.

She chuckles. "Yeah, so it's not slippery. Helps you stick to your board."

"Makes lots of sense." Harry thinks that may be why he always slips so much.

"I also think you're surfing in the wrong area."

"What do you mean?" He asks. He likes this beach, and the area is not very overcrowded with people.

"Well, advanced surfers know how to deal with rocks and double-ups, which you obviously don't." Y/N is being honest, and he really likes that.

"What gave it away?" He answers sarcastically.

"If you'd like I can show you where I learned, it's usually empty. My brother took me there for the longest time. It's where I like to go when I'm surfing."

Harry is shocked at her offer, of course, he wants to accept. "That'd be great."

"Would you mind exchanging numbers, we'd have to check wave conditions to see what day works best."

"Sure." He nods, handing Y/N his phone.

"Great, it's a date" Y/N shoots him a bright smile.

She begins walking away, she looks over her shoulder to look at him. "You coming, Harry?"

"Where?"

"We gotta get you a wetsuit, silly." She shrugs like it's nothing. "I'm sad the yellow shorts didn't make it."

Harry hurries and matches her pace. "I am as well."

Y/N opens the door to a shop and holds it open for him to walk in first. Harry smiles and gives his thanks to her.

"How do I know you're a good surfer?" Harry questions. "I know you're an avid reader and a crazy good paramedic but never seen you in the water."

"Awe, you're right. Guess you might have to just trust me."

"I can do that." Harry has not stopped smiling being in her company.

Y/N grins, "I was hoping for that."

"Y/N, babe, you didn't tell me you were coming." A short redhead says, moving away from the register, wrapping her in a big hug.

"I need a new rash guard. Can't seem to find my old one and can't always rely on the wetsuit." Y/N begins to tell the redhead.

"Oh we've got new in stock, I'll bring some out in your size."

The redhead is about to leave when Y/N stops her. "I also need to look at men wetsuits for Harry here."

Her eyes look him over, and he feels a bit nervous and hides a bit behind Y/N.

"Harry, this is my best friend, Georgia, but she goes by Georgie. Georgie, this is Harry, he's a new friend." Harry misses the wink Y/N sends her friend, who gets the message right away.

"Nice to meet you, a friend of Y/N's is a friend of mine."

"Pleasure to meet you." He answers, bringing his hand out to shake when Georgie's eyes go wide, accepting it. She's quick to let go.

"Babe, he has an accent."

"That he does, obviously not from these waters." Y/N laughs.

"Harry, just know you're in good hands," Georgie tells him.

Harry nods, still timid and a bit intimidated by her high energy.

"Okay, how tall are you?" She smirks, looking him up and down.

"6'0" He replies confidently.

"Are you?" Georgie looks at him. "Think you might be off an inch."

"I trust him, try an ST and an M."

Georgie nods and leaves them be.

"Didn't know you checked me out that well," Harry smirks, knowing he has the upper hand.

Y/N blushes and Harry can't wait to see more of it in their future. "Sorry, I speak before I think. I hope I didn't embarrass you."

"It's quite alright. Nice to know you like my meaty thighs."

Y'N elbows him in his stomach gently. "Quit being rude."

Harry and Y/N begin to look around together when Georgie comes back and leads them to the fitting rooms. "I'll leave you to it."

Harry watches Y/N step in before shutting his own door. He stares at the suit and tries the small one first. It fits him a bit short, and he knows Y/N said it's better longer. The medium is snug, where he knows it should be and a good length on his legs and arms. He likes that it has a string to help him zip it up. Harry won't admit how much he struggled.

Harry walks out to Y/N and sees her waiting sitting on a chair. She's fiddling with two clothing pieces in her lap. He calls her name softly, and she turns.

Her eyes widen; she holds her gaze on his thighs for a bit before moving to his chest, arms before settling on his face.

"Feels fine?" Y/N stands, stepping closer, walking in a circle around him. "Looks good to me."

"Yes, feels great. Easier to move than I thought." He spreads his hands out and walks to the mirror in front of him.

"We could get you a rash guard if you like instead of a wetsuit. That way you could still wear your shorts. I don't want to make you uncomfortable surfing." Y/N has a nervous smile on her face awaiting an answer.

"This is great, honestly. I'll ask for your help, later on, rash guards." Harry promises.

"I'll hold you to that." They stay staring at one another for a few seconds until Georgie calls for Y/N.

"Meet you at the register to pay. You can leave the suit outside Georgie will get you a new one."

Harry is quick to change and meet Y/N to see her holding two shopping bags in hand and one receipt.

Harry's mouth drops. "Tell me you didn't pay for me." His voice was sharp.

It doesn't seem to faze her. "Yes, family discount. It's really great." A small smirk on her face, he knows she's waiting to be challenged. If you have a problem, you could pay me back."

Harry grins, knowing he won this easily. Georgie laughed, watching the two of them. "Let's take it outside, there's actual customers now."

"Bye babe, see you for lunch on Thursday." Y/N calls out to Georgie, who blows a kiss in return.

"Alright, how much do I owe you?" Harry says, wallet in hand.

"Lunch, I'm starved." A smirk on her face.

"No."

"Yes, it's been a long day." Y/N says, continuing to walk.

"Wetsuits are expensive. Please don't do this."

She stops walking and turns around to look him in the eyes. "When's the last time someone bought you a gift."

"My birthday, a few months ago."

"I give my friends random gifts throughout the year. It's who I am, this is mine to you. I'm taking you surfing, and I want you to have the right gear. I know you have money, but I want to do this." Y/N is being sincere, and he can see that.

"Thank you," Harry answers, giving her a big smile to let her know he's letting it go.

"I'll pick the place we eat at." Harry begins walking again.

"Not arguing that."

"Great, I was thinking-" He's cut off by a phone ringing, and he knows it's not his.

She shoots him an apologetic smile. She answers small yes's, and I'll be there soon.

"Rain check on the lunch, someone didn't show to shift, and I'm on call."

Harry masks his disappointment. "I understand, go."

"I'll text you tonight, plan our date out a bit more. I promise."

Y/N leans in kisses his cheek before rushing down the way they were going.

Harry's got a date.

A date with Y/N and he couldn't be more excited.

It's five am, and they had just arrived at the beach. Y/N had let him know it would be early, but he thought eight o'clock, not sunrise early. He doesn't complain because he's actually really excited to be here with her. She picked him up, helped him get his board in her trunk, then gave him a smoothie. Said coffee would dehydrate him before he could even get in the water.

The beach she brought him to was gorgeous; it's a small parking for less than fifteen cars meaning not many people must visit. There is lots of room to spread across at and no rocks in sight. That helps him relax a lot more. The ocean looks clearer here, he hopes Y/N will continue to bring him hereafter learning to surf better.

"Do you want me to grab your board?" Y/N's voice breaks him out of his thoughts. Harry makes his way to the back and grabs his.

"You want me to take yours, or I can take your first aid kit instead." Harry offered. Y/N was holding her backpack by the bag handle, and the kit was slung on her shoulder, but the white strap was slipping.

"That'd be great, you pull the board out, and I'll close the trunk."

Harry was quick to pull it out; he stands it, making sure it doesn't fall. She slams the trunk and gives it a gentle tap.

"Lead the way." Harry gestures to her.

Harry follows a bit behind as to not accidentally bump her with a surfboard. He lays them down when he sees her pick a spot with a bit of shade from palm trees. There are also a few trees in the area adding to the shade, it feels like he's entered a new world.

"I feel like we're in someplace we aren't supposed to be."

Y/N laughs and nods. "Means this place has not lost its magic."

"If you say you come here a lot, why have I seen you recently at," he pauses. "let's call it my beach."

"It's a bit of a drive, I come here when I really want to surf and meet up with my brother. He doesn't live in the state anymore, so when he calls that he's coming to visit me, this is the place he means."

Y/N begins to rub sunscreen on her legs. She's wearing black board shorts that show off her firm thighs. Her top is a white long sleeve rash guard. It's beautiful and glossy, Harry realizes that it must be the one she bought the other day when they were out together. As Harry is finishing checking her out, he sees her putting on sunscreen on her face and a smirk on her face as she holds the bottle out to him.

Harry awkwardly laughs. "Thanks." He is quick to put it on the exposed parts of his skin. Mostly his face, Harry, can either tan or go really red, and a sunburn is not something he wants.

Y/N spreads out their boards a few feet away from their stuff and from each other. She moves to stand in front of him, looking him up and down. He knows the suit fits well, and glad that she's taking a moment to take it in. He's going to look like a fool taking it off, so best to work it while he got it.

She spends him a small smile and looks at the waves for a few seconds. They aren't as big as he expected. He's eager to get in, but he knows it won't be that easy with her.

"The good thing is you know how to jump on a wipeout." She has a stern look on her face, and Harry knows she means business now.

Harry nods. "Mitch taught me a few things. He said jump far from the board, feet first and protect your head, but I don't really let myself get taught things if I'm honest."

"Well, I'm honored." She brings a hand up to her chest for emphasis.

"Remember to beware of the impact zone. When the lip of a wave hits flat water. It's the most powerful and can drag you fiercely to the bottom."

"Wow, lots I did not know. No wonder I get beat up a lot." Harry runs a hand through his tangled curls.

"Also, a big reason you got in your accident." Harry knows she's right.

"If caught in a rip current-"

Oh, I know this," Harry interrupts. "You swim sideways and not away to shore. Also, it's important not to panic. Parallel to shore." Harry fake paddles to show her he knows what he's talking about.

"Exactly right." This earns him a smile. "I know you know the push-through technique and turtle role." She says off-hand.

Harry smirks. "How do you know that?"

She blushes but doesn't shy away. "I tell you the yellow shorts attracted attention."

It causes both of them to laugh and Harry to go red, but he thanks those lucky shorts every day.

"Show me your pop up."

Y.N takes a step back, crosses her arms, and waits for him to demonstrate.

"Why?"

"Well, I know you know how to catch a wave and paddle out, but the reason you can never ride a wave is by how you pop up."

This new information takes Harry by surprise.

"You noticed that two times you saw me."

Y/N nods. "I took surfing courses at sixteen and mainly taught kids. Once I turned eighteen, I began to deliver lessons to adults. I did this for six years before being hired as a full-time paramedic. I volunteer my time now when I can. It's easy to spot mistakes now." She feels like she over shares, but Harry looks genuinely interested in all she has to say.

"That's amazing, you must really love the water and surfing." Harry is smiling, she's very open, and he honestly didn't expect it of her.

"I love it, my mom loved bringing me out here as well. We would spend all morning here, then we'd head to a late lunch. She'd go to her shift at the hospital, then I'd stay home with my head stuck in a book."

"Smart and athletic," Harry says. "My kind of girl."

"You're stalling." Y/N responds blushing.

"I like hearing you talk, your face glows when talking about surfing or your family."

"I was in the water at six months old and surfing at five. I've got salt water running through my veins." She jokes.

"You're kidding," Harry says.

"Nope, my mom grew up in this city, loved the ocean, and well, she wanted me to as well. Lucky for her, it stuck."

"Y/N, if you surfed all those years, you sound good enough to have gone professional." Harry feels the mood shift as soon as he lets those words out, and he wishes he could take them back. Before he can begin to apologize, Y/N surprises him.

"I-I would have." Y/N sits on her board, facing the ocean. Her hands in the sand, letting it fall through her fingers. "I had just graduated high school, so I had all these doors open, and I was undecided. I had universities waiting for my reply and sponsors waiting for an answer. The day when I thought I had made a choice, my mom fainted at work. It had never happened before. She said she had a cold, but that was it." Y/N took a deep breath. "Turns out she had stage four lung cancer, and it was quickly spreading. It was too late for chemo, all they could do was keep her comfortable."

"Y/N" Harry whispers, reaching for her hand. She squeezes it back in acknowledgment.

"My brother was in New York school covered, but he could not make frequent back and forth. I stayed by her side for those last five months. It was always just her and me. We were best friends, and to lose her was the hardest thing I ever had to go through." With her free hand, she wipes her tears.

"I'm sorry for your loss, she sounded amazing." Harry can't even imagine what she went through, but he can show her he cares and will be there.

"Thank you. Mom was my hero. Still is. She had enough money saved up for me to go to university debt-free, but in a letter in her will, it said I could do whatever I pleased. I wanted to feel close to her, so I got started as an EMT then worked my hours into becoming a paramedic. Had a good guiding team, and I couldn't be happier doing what I do every day." Y/N looks over at Harry and is surprised to see the tears in his eyes. It makes hers start up again.

"That's amazing to hear. You're strong and resilient."

Y/N blushes. "It's the support system around you that helps you stay afloat. My mom's work friends had basically become my aunts and uncles. I had bad days and good days. It was nice to be reminded I wasn't alone."

"Family's important."

"Gosh, I'm sorry. Talk about sucky first date topics. Also can't seem to stop talking about myself." Y/N looks apologetic and embarrassed.

"Don't apologize. I feel honored you shared this with me." Harry brings their intertwined hand to his lips and leaves a gentle kiss. He hears the hitch in her breath and smiles at her reaction to his touch. "Well, how about after we get some waves in, and after I take you out for lunch and tell you my life story."

"Harry, I would really love that." Y/N leans over and kisses his cheek. "Now show me your pop up.

"Alright, alright." Y/N goes back to her original position to watch him

Harry takes a deep breath and lays on his stomach. He arches his back lightly, chin pointing forward. Tucks his arms in by his ribs. He arches up, brings his right knee forward, keeping it straight down, pushing up to his fingertips, bringing more power to his arms. He takes his left foot and places it in front, foot flat. He then moves his right foot up, planting his foot. He stands up, weight mostly in his left foot. Harry's shoulders pull back, pointing to the nose of the board and knees bent he knows he's done it.

"Do it fast now." She has no expression on her face, but Harry likes that she doesn't correct him. She's giving him the chance to show what he knows and how she can improve it.

Harry doesn't argue simply doing as she says. He lies on his stomach, takes a deep breath, jumps up, and loses his balance a bit before relaxing his form, knowing he messed up.

"Do you know where you go wrong?" Y/N asks.

"Honestly, no."

"Where's all your weight?"

"In my feet." Harry answers.

"Right, well, which one has more."

"My front foot."

"No, that causes you to lose balance. Your right foot has to hold sixty to seventy of your weight; that's why you tip forward. Also, could separate your feet a bit more, too close together." Y/N is standing the same position he was, but he can see what she means. There is more weight on her right leg.

"Right."

"Want to try it again."

"Yeah, okay."

Harry gets into position. He's quick to jump up, placing his left foot in front and propping his right up and putting the extra weight on it, head forward he feels different, more in control."

"Brilliant, Harry."

"Thank you. Felt good."

Y/N laughs. "Let's hope you remember that in the water. Do it a few more times to get used to it."

"You got it, boss."

"Oh, I forgot something before we head in." Y/N rushes to her back and pulls out this yellow item with a black strap.

"That for me?" Harry points at it, looking confused.

"Yes, it's a leash for your board. It keeps you close to it after a wipeout. I'm wearing one if it makes you feel any better."

Harry laughs, dimples on display now. "It actually does. Why, yellow?" He questions as he sees her attaching it to the board.

"We are forever honoring those yellow shorts that brought us together."

Harry has enjoyed watching Y/N surf wave after wave. It's clear as day that she feels at ease out here. He's glad she has allowed him to see that. There's a big wave coming, and Harry isn't going to bother with it, he's too nervous about getting thrashed around under the wave. Y/N rides the wave with ease. Harry lets out a cheer when he sees her successfully complete an aerial. She launched off the lid, flew above the wave, and landed on the waves' face. It's crazy to think how easy she made that look.

She paddles back over to him and shoots him a smile.

"That was incredible," Harry tells her, and she looks down, not used to his compliments.

"Thank you." She laughed. "When are you finally getting on a ride? I want to see my student and the skills I taught him."

Harry shrugs.

"Hey," she leans over and touches his arm gently. He looks at her with a small smile on his face. "It's just you and me here. I'm not going to make fun of you, I'll be the first to cheer for you and the first to dive in after you if you take too long to come up for air."

Harry nods. "Thank you."

Harry sees a wave coming and decides to go for it when he does get up, he loses balance. He laughed off the first one, and the second and the third, but the fourth one was getting to be too much. The more he wipes out, the more he loses confidence.

He doesn't let Y/N get a word in, and yes, he feels terrible about it, but he really does want to impress her, proving that he has improved.

He sits back on the board, takes a deep breath, and waits.

A wave is coming, and he feels good about it. He paddles hard, feeling the water before pushing up. Harry's feet firm, his head faced forward, and shoulders back. He bends his knees, shifts his weight, and the next thing he knows, he's riding it through.

He hears cheers once he pops up after jumping off.

"Harry!" He hears Y/N scream as he shakes water from his head. "That was amazing."

He paddles out to her. A big grin on his face. "Let's catch some more."

She nods, turning her head to look at the water for incoming waves.

Harry stops to catch his breath and just stares at Y/N. Strands of hair sticking to her side of the face drops of water dripping down her neck. She is beautiful. She rivals Amphitrite.

"I've got an amazing coach," Harry tells her after he jumps off his successful wave. He did a bottom turn. That had her hollering as soon as he paddled back to her.

Y/N splashes him. "Shut up, I'm catching the one coming."

She paddles hard before giving two hard strokes then gets up as if the air itself helped her. Her technique is impressive. Harry swears she's up in a matter of seconds. She's caught a clean, smooth ride. Harry knows he could watch her all day.

"You got noodle arms yet?" Y/N asks, sitting on the board as she pulls up next to him.

"A bit," Harry answers her honestly.

"Ready to call it, or you got a bit more in you?"

Harry knows she's leaving it up to him, and he honestly doesn't want the date to end.

"Want to stay a bit longer."

"I'm fine with that." She rubs water from her eyes as Harry looks her over to make sure she isn't injured just as a precaution.

"Betty!" A man yells that's paddling in.

Harry frowns, seeing no one else and can't help but wonder who they're calling.

Y/N frowns before seeing the approaching man. "Well, if it isn't Jake. Can't say I've missed seeing you."

"Awe, Betty, dear, you're just as sweet as I remember." Harry frowns, not liking the interaction.

"Harry, this is an old acquaintance from my high school days. Jake, who actually goes by Ryan, this is Harry, my boyfriend." Harry doesn't react to her words, simply giving Ryan or Jake or whatever his name is a head nod.

"Nice to meet you," Harry says, not at all, meaning that.

"Snagged yourself a royal. Seems fitting."

Y/N's tense, and he doesn't like that. "Hope you enjoy the surf, we were about to head out."

"Don't leave on my account," Jake replies. "Ocean big enough for all of us."

"We've been here since sunrise time to eat." Y/N begins to paddle back, and Harry follows. "Take care of yourself."

Harry and Y/N don't say a word until they are right by their bags. Y/N drops the board in the sand, and he follows.

"I've got a rinse kit in the trunk, no worries about getting sand in the truck's trunk." Y/N takes a long drink of water, releasing a deep sigh after.

"Take it you've got bad blood there." Harry starts.

"Could say that. He's still hurt. I never gave him a chance in high school. He thought he was the king of surf, and I should be his queen, but he was too much of an asshole to ever get a girlfriend."

"Every story needs its villain." Harry shrugs.

"Yeah, he was definitely that. Causing trouble where he went. When I got my first boyfriend, who surprisingly to everyone was the captain of the debate team, it did not sit well for him. He tried to fight him, but Antonio did boxing as a hobby. Threw a mean punch."

Harry laughs at her story. "Where is Antonio now? First love and all he must have been special."

"He was, We broke up after prom. I didn't know my plans, and he had already planned five years ahead. He headed off to Harvard, and I stayed home. Last I heard he was opening up a Law firm with his girlfriend." She tucks her water back in the bag. Closing it and slipping it on her back.

Harry thinks it's nice getting to know her, how open she is to Harry.

"You've got lots to share, Harry. A date is us both getting to know each other."

"Sorry, love. I just find you fascinating."

Y/N nods, flustered, but doesn't back down. "Flattery will get you nowhere at this moment."

"Tell me one last thing."

She pops her hip waiting for him to ask.

"Why, Betty?"

"It's an 80's surf term to compliment a good female surfer, Men like Jake used it to try to pick up girls because it can also be used as an attractive or beautiful girl." Y/N takes the scrunchie holding her hair and gently pulls it out, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. "My friends said I coined the term, everyone seemed to call me Betty. It was sweet, nice to hear, but not from the mouth of people like him." She nods her direction to Ryan in the water.

"I'm guessing Jake has a meaning," Harry says, fishing for more.

"Yeah, it means a beginner surfer that causes and brings trouble to other surfers."

Harry grins, looking out at the water and watches Jake wipe out. "Very fitting."

"We all thought so." Y/N grabs her bags and board, walking away from him. "Race you to the truck." As she takes off running, Harry tries his best to pick his stuff up and laughs at how far she's gotten as he nears the parking lot. "Come on, got to earn that second date, H."

Harry knows he's done for.

Harry is driving, pointing to different restaurants while Y/N says no to most of them. She let him drive her precious truck because it was her fault for Harry embarrassing himself, taking off his wetsuit, and almost flashing his most private parts to her, not having informed him that he could wear something underneath. Y/N had thought it was apparent, thankfully Harry brought a change of clothes. He was embarrassed, but he got over it quickly, knowing it made her laugh so much.

"Let's go there." Y/N points to a small cafe named Lytle Creek.

Harry pulls in and jumps out to open the door for her. She smiles at Harry before heading inside. They are seated at a booth where they sit across from each other. It's a small place with booths and fewer tables. There are beautiful black and white photos on the wall of families and the ocean. It makes the cafe feel warm and cozy. Harry knows he'll want to come back.

"Hello, I'm Charlene, and I'll be your waitress, can I start you off with something to drink?" A girl around the age of sixteen takes their order; her ocean blue eyes shine just as bright as her smile, Y/N thinks.

Harry looks over at Y/N, and she nods for him to go first. "Hello," he greets. "I'll have an iced americano."

"I'll have cranberry juice, please."

"Do you need another moment with the menu?" Charlene asks, seeing the other couple in the cafe stand up to leave, shooting them a quick goodbye.

"A few more minutes would be great." Y/N answers, and their waitress walks away with a smile.

Harry and Y/N pick their food choice, and Charlene quickly came back with drinks. The conversation is slow, mostly sipping their drinks and looking out the window at the small shops that are slowly opening and turning their lights. Harry and Y/N's eyes meet a few times, causing them both to laugh.

Harry is grateful when the food arrives because any longer and his stomach would have started growling. He was not ready for that type of embarrassment.

Harry quietly chuckles when he sees her eyes light up when she sees Charlene heading their way with their tray of food. Even though their morning has been going well, he's nervous because he likes her a crazy amount for a first date.

"You know why you fall off so much?" Y/N says after swallowing a bite of her french toast. Harry ordered pancakes with a side of scrambled eggs and hashbrowns that he insists on sharing with her.

"Besides not knowing how to balance properly." Harry sasses.

Y/N laughs. "It's your bad posture. I mean, look at you right now." She points her fork at him.

Harry immediately sits up, proving how right she was.

"Hey, you just proved my point." She grins at him, and he can't help but do the same. Her happiness is contagious.

"Yeah, okay. It was worse, but my friend got me into yoga, and it improved drastically. Think that's what makes me look a bit shorter than I actually am."

She nods, hanging on to his every word as if it were anything interesting.

"Oh, you should teach me sometime. I'm a great learner in small groups and can never take those classes always filled with ten or more people." She takes a sip of her juice. "I like the focus on me and being told I'm doing good or what I can improve on."

Harry smirks. "You got a praise kink?"

Her mouth drops open in shock. She throws a grape hitting him right in the center of his forehead.

"Oi, that wasn't kind."

"First date topics do not involve bringing up my kinks."

He reaches over for a strawberry, and she just watches him, a small frown on her face, but it looks like she might crack and laugh. "You didn't deny it."

She opens her mouth to rebuttal, but she's too flustered. Y/N drops her head in her hands and just lets out a low groan.

"You're too much."

"Or maybe I'm just enough."

"Yeah, we'll see." Y/N reaches over for his fork with a bit of pancake and eats it, shocking him.

"Tell me about your family, please."

She flipped a switch from playful to serious, and honestly, it was hot. She does want to get to know him, and that sends flutters to his stomach.

"We moved here after my mum got a divorce from my dad. We came to live with a family friend, and my mom fell in love with the area, so we stayed. My sister, Gemma, moved to London at eighteen. Now, she's happily engaged and is a teacher. My mum moved back three years ago." He loves talking about his family. But he misses them.

"You miss them a lot?"

Harry nods. "Yes, I visit every summer. At first, I spent only a few weeks because I didn't have a stable job but now stay all summer if I can or visit later on and stay through a bit of autumn. Also, never miss Christmas at home, and I'll stay through new years. It's nice to have a flexible job."

"That's great to have. Always cherish it." She's smiling at him, but he can feel her hurt. Harry knows that must be hard for her, but if it's up to him, he wants her with him this year; he might be thinking too far ahead on a first date, but he's serious about her.

She's unique, and it just feels different with her. Cheesy, but the truth.

"I spend Thanksgiving with Georgie, and some years I'll spend Christmas with her as well; otherwise, I travel. Christmas through New Year is always spent in a new place, then I'm back the fifth and right to work."

Harry smiles at her, hoping that maybe this year will be different, and she'll spend Christmas with him. He knows it's months away, and they've known each other for less than a week, but it feels right. Being with her feels like he has finally taken his first real breath of air.

"Since we like being fair, tell me about your first love." She leans her head on her hands, focusing all her attention, eager for him to start.

Harry chuckles at her excitement. "Sixteen year old me was in a band, I wrote her a song and played it in front of a small crowd. She kissed me backstage. We dated, and she broke my heart for a football player, soccer player." He says with a shrug.

"You gave me the spark notes version." She mutters, picking up a grape and eating it. "What's with her now."

"On her third marriage." He confesses.

Her eyes go wide. "You're kidding."

He shakes his head. "Nope."

She grins. "Karma for breaking your heart."

Harry laughs, and she soon joins in with him.

Conversation flows, and they don't feel time go by. Y/N drives Harry home and walks him to the door. Harry looks down at her lips, and she looks up to his, but they both look away. A small frown on both their faces. He walks inside, whispering a short goodbye. He shuts his door for a second before ripping it open to see her opening her truck door. He stops her, spins her around. She nods when his eyes meet hers for permission. Harry's hands are on her cheeks; he's slow, not rushing to kiss her because he wants to remember this moment. Their lips connect, and they move together in a steady rhythm—no rush to end. Harry feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. She's a passionate kisser putting all her emotions into the kiss.

Harry pulls away but pecks her lips, not wanting to be separated just yet. She giggles against his lips, not at all wanting him to stop either.

Harry drops his hands to her waist, taking a step back and shoots her a shy smile. "I take it there will be a second date."

She nods slowly, blinking her eyes open. "And a third, fourth, fifth, and a twentieth date."

He kisses her, not being able to contain his excitement. "I'll take all the dates you give me."

"What if on one of these dates I want to make you my boyfriend?" She touches his cheek, gently pulling away to look into his eyes.

"You could ask me right now, and I'd say yes."

She laughs, taking two steps away from him. "Think I want you to do a bit more chasing first."

He grins, and she reciprocates when seeing his beautiful dimples.

"I'll never stop chasing." He assures her.

Harry grabs her wrist to stop her from getting in her seat. "One more kiss goodbye?"

She nods, not at all being able to resist him.

This kiss is slower than the first, Harry wanting to prolong their time together. Harry's sure if he keeps on kissing her, he'd never let her go. She pulls away and gets in before Harry can stop her. He steps back so she can shut the door. She rolls down the window and kisses his cheek.

"Send me a message when you get home."

"Of course, bye Harry." She's pulling out of the driveway slowly, eyes on her mirrors.

"Bye, pretty Betty."

She lets out her gorgeous laugh, shaking her head at him. She shoots him one final look before driving away.

Harry grins to himself, hand resting over his fast-beating heart.

Harry has no idea what the future holds for him and his relationship with Y/N, but if he's lucky enough to get more moments with her like this, he'd consider himself the luckiest man alive.

It might be too soon to say, but he's sure she'll be his wife.

Harry may have been a terrible surfer, but it did bring him Y/N.

"You suck!" Harry yells, flopping down next to her shaking out his wet hair, on her lap but to no avail.

"You're out with Mitch." She responds, resting her sunglasses on her head. She reaches out and pushes his hair back out of his eyes, she eyes the scrunchie on her wrist, and without thinking twice, she gently gathers his hair and puts it in a small ponytail. She kisses his forehead leaning back in her sand chair.

"Thank you, baby." He mutters, kissing her thigh three times before meeting her gaze once more. "You promised you'd go with me." He whines.

As much fun as he had been having with Mitch for the last hour, he couldn't help but look out to the shore for when she would stand up with her board to join him. He remembered how much fun they had in her shed waxing the boards for today, she even gave him a special reward for doing so well. Now she's giving him the cold shoulder although it could be worse she could be ignoring his attention completely.

"Harry," She sighs.

"Baby, please." Harry's voice grows softer, sensing he might be close to getting what he wants.

"No." Her tone makes him realize she is serious.

"Why not?" He's really concerned why she won't surf with him today when she was eager to do so just a few days prior. She loves any chance she can get in the water.

"Because I said so." She picks back up her book Defending Jacob, and Harry sees her yellow bookmark peeking out from the end of the book. He knows she's not actually reading because she didn't set it aside as she usually does. So he continues.

"But why?" Harry knows he sounds like a child, but if he continues, she's more than likely to answer him, it's something he learned over time.

"You invited Mitch to hang out on our six month anniversary, so you hang out with him." She all but shouts at him, no expression on her face, meaning he has a lot to make up for.

Harry groans ashamed of forgetting. "I'm sorry."

"No surfing together."

"I can make it up to you," he says, pulling at the strings of her bottoms sneaking a hand up under her sweater to touch her breast in the pretty bikini she's hiding from his viewing.

"Get Mitch to leave, and then we can do what you want." Harry knows nothing will change her mind.

"Fine, be like that. Tell me to kick my best friend and his girlfriend to the curb."

"Remember, you can't hold out like I can." She shrugs, telling him there's no problem holding out on anything intimate with him. She's right, and he hates it, ever since their first time, Harry has not stopped from touching her intimately. The only time they stopped was when they had their first big fight, and she would not let him feel her under any circumstance. He didn't get a hug or kiss on the cheek for a whole five days, safe to say after that Harry was always sure to have a hold on her for comfort. And now, he wanted to show her he appreciated her, so he knew what he had to do.

Harry heads over to Mitch, who is talking to Sarah. The beach is empty, and it's not a surprise seeing as the beach Y/N showed them has become their spot, and not many people gather there, especially now that autumn has made its arrival.

"Get out of here," Harry says, nudging Mitch on his shoulder to get his attention. He adds a please when Sarah gives him a look.

"It's our six month anniversary, and I messed up. Got to make it up to her." Harry confesses feeling worse when saying that out loud. "Now leave and don't come back, please."

"We are leaving." Mitch pats his shoulder before walking towards their stuff. "Was wondering how long it'd take." Sarah laughs, giving Harry a side hug before making her way to Y/N to provide her with a proper goodbye.

"Mitch, I've got a lot of groveling to do." Harry runs a hand down his face, stressed but up for the challenge.

"Good luck." Mitch picks up his and Sarah's board, and Harry grins, watching them leave slowly to aggravate Harry, but he knows he deserved it. As he watches their car drive away, he cheers for the small victory.

"Baby, my sweet Betty." Harry lays out his pet names for her.

"Really, Harry." She sets her book in her bag and her sunglasses, knowing Harry is going to invade her space now.

"What? You are my hot surfer chick." He's teasing her.

"Idiot." She mutters.

"Your idiot." The cheesy smile on his face makes her lose her serious face, a smile taking over.

"Always." Harry is laying between her legs now that she moved to the beach blanket she began carrying around once she found out that Harry likes to nap after surfing. She made sure it was water and sand resistant just for him. She's very thoughtful, always looking out for him.

"Can you let me make it up to you?" He says, tracing circles on her thighs slowly dipping between her thighs.

She waits a few seconds to answer, but to Harry, it felt like hours. "Yes."

"Where should I start?" Harry reaches his hand up to pull the zipper down from her sweater. He is quick to push it off her shoulders. He smiles at the pretty yellow bikini she wore just for him, that he was a fool for almost missing out on it.

Harry kisses down her neck, she lets out small moans encouraging him to keep going. His mouth stops on her breasts, reaching behind to untie it. Once they are free, his dips in to take her nipple, sucking on each of those beautiful breasts. Y/N grabs the loose hairs and connects their lips. She slams her mouth on his, Harry kisses back, thrusting his tongue deep, tangling it with hers. Her hands begin to travel down, but he stops her.

"It's all about you." Harry breaths out, getting a good look at her as she leans up on elbows, slowly nodding. Harry shifts down to lay between her legs.

Roaming his fingers up her thighs, brushing a kiss along the inside, coming closer to her hot center, kissing it. She moans, desperate for more. Harry loved how insanely good she always smelled. He licked and kissed her through her bikini bottoms, inhaling the scent that was uniquely her, getting a faint taste of her. Eager for more Harry pulls the strings of her bikini bottom, and it comes undone quickly, he grins seeing her beautiful pussy, Harry swears it's perfect just as she is. "Baby, you have the prettiest pussy." With a groan, his eyes drift close and swipe his tongue over her smooth, smooth flesh.

Her body twitches, and she gasps, head falling back and her back arching pushing her perfects boobs up. He swirled his tongue up and down, sinking it deeper to taste her more fully.

"So damn wet. Look at you." He slid his fingers through her slit. "That's for me. "Right, baby?"

"Yes," She lets out another moan. "For you…"

He tastes her again. "Could eat you like this forever."

"Please," She begs.

Her hips roll against his mouth, faster, and he tongued her clit. She reached for his hand, wanting to feel close to him, Harry intertwines his fingers through hers, holding on tight as she gives a soft cry. He moved his tongue faster, knowing she was close. Her body quivering and tightening as she comes, her pussy even slicker.

Harry kisses her thigh again as she begins to calm down, his eyes on her face, drawing back away from her. "Baby, you look fucking gorgeous."

Y/N feels like she doesn't, sweat making hair stick to her forehead, she's naked and bets there has to be sand around them from all the moving they were doing, but one look at those emerald eyes and she knows he means it.

She sits up, and Harry is quick to zip up the oversized sweater, he tied her bikini bottoms so she wouldn't feel exposed anymore.

"Can I get a kiss?" She asks his laying back down, leaving the zipper exposing a bit of her chest to him.

"Always. Give you all my kisses."

The kiss is slow and gentle compared to what was shared moments before. Harry groans not at all, forgetting that she now tastes herself against his lips. It's nothing new, but it gets him just as excited as the first time. Y/N pulls away pecking his lips three times before gently pushing him to lay on his back, he lets her know she wants to get comfortable on his chest, she takes advantage of it whenever she can, claiming she loves hearing his heartbeat.

Harry is softly stroking her hair, helping her calm down from her high. "Christmas in London, how does that sound? Lots of family and cooking and a mince pie."

A tear rolls down her face because she can picture it perfectly. She might be surrounded by lots of strangers, but if his family is anything like Harry, she's in for a great time. "Sounds perfect."

Harry doesn't comment on her tears, knowing this is important for her.

"You really want me at the family Christmas?" She twists, resting her chin on his chest. Her eyes looking into his eyes, looking for any type of hesitation.

"Baby, you are family. I need you there" He brings his right hand up to tuck hair behind her ear. "You're the best gift I could have there."

Y/N can't help but laugh and connect their lips for a short kiss. "Can't wait to properly meet your mom and sister. Facetime is not the same."

Harry nods, agreeing because he feels the same, he can't hug his family through a phone screen. They stay staring at each other in their current position, taking in each other's features that they've memorized. The scar Harry has on his chin. The freckle she has on the left side of her neck. How bright her eyes shine when she smiles. How quick Harry's cheeks go red from the sunlight.

It's these moments that they begin to fall in love with one another all over again.

"What do you say we travel somewhere for new years together, keeping your tradition going," Harry suggests hoping she'd be up for it.

She doesn't bat an eye, her smile grows. "Where would we go?"

"I'd go anywhere as long as I'm with you." Harry kisses her nose softly, causing her to scrunch it up.

"You're too bold, where did my shy, sucky surfer go?" She pokes his dimples, causing him to laugh. He wraps his arms around her waist, hugging her tight against him.

"You polished him up." Harry might not be the shy guy anymore, but when he's around his love, he feels like he is until she breaks him out with her loving stares and gentle caresses.

"I love you, "He whispers.

"I love you so much." She connected their lips, a low groan rumbled from his chest, and his mouth opened against here in a long, clinging kiss. Harry let out another moan as he felt her fingers trail over his sensitive cock. He tilted his head, opened his mouth wider, and deepened their kiss until she pulled away.

"Make love to me." She whispers in his ear as she kisses down his neck.

Harry flips her, a gasp leaving her not at all expecting Harry to do that. His eyes shine bright with love and lust, ready to make her feel pleasure like no other.

"Always, love."

With the sun beating high and ocean waves crashing against the shore, moans of pleasure are lost in the noise of it all.

Thank you for taking the time to read. If you liked it please be sure to like and reblog it would mean a lot to me. Come talk to me about Ocean Save here let me know your favorite moments.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles ou #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

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Double Heart | Chapter Seven ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2738

Warnings: Canon-level violence, injury, blood

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Happy Monday! I’m so thankful for each and every one of you <3

We rise with the first rays of the sun. As much as I hate to admit it, I feel refreshed after a full rest. I slept soundly, trusting my brothers to do their job well. They did spend the whole night awake though, so I make a note to ensure that they sleep tonight, even if they will need to get up for second watch. As helpful as it would be to have two others on the watch rotation, I can’t risk putting the humans to the job—their senses are so inferior. I’ve snuck up on them nearly ten times by now, all without meaning to.

Rumil brings Roch into line behind Faervel. Farther on Roch’s back sits Cosima, her arms wrapped around my brother’s middle. She’s much more comfortable on the horse now, and if the mountains weren’t so rocky and full of steep drop-offs, I would suggest that she lead the horse—the experience is important. Alexander has expressed zero interest in learning how to care for or ride a horse, or learn anything about Arda, really. I will allow him the journey to adjust, but if he decides to return with us to Lothlórien, he will have to acquire skills to become more self-sufficient. Though, I have a feeling Alexander will attempt to leave this realm, or, at the very least, seek out a human settlement. I just don’t know if Cosima will go with him. She seems to have accepted our world and has taken steps towards making it her own, but she is tied to her human friend. The hold he has over her concerns me, though I do understand it. They’re each other’s only tie to the world they left behind. It would be hard to break that bond.

The sun rises above one of the higher peaks, blinding me for the brief second it takes for my eyes to adjust. Looking up, I see the morning sky is decorated with thick stripes of pale pink and brilliant gold. I take a second, and only a second, to enjoy it, then return to scanning my surroundings. This level of vigilance used to exhaust me, but by now, it’s as natural as breathing. Even when I am off duty, taking my leave in Caras Galadon or vacationing in Imladris or elsewhere, I never fully relax my surveillance. It is better to be prepared. Advanced warning can mean everything.

I hear the sound of a canteen rattling and Cosima clears her throat. “Hey, Haldir?”

“Yes?”

“When did you say we would reach that stream?”

I stretch my eyesight as far I can. It’s difficult in the mountains, where boulders and peaks and valleys hinder a proper line of sight, but I make out a slight glimmer on a rock far ahead of us—sun glinting off the surface of water and casting light on the boulder. “By tomorrow morning, I’d wager.” Then, the pieces click together. I narrow my eyes. “Why?”

I can hear the forced nonchalance in her voice. “No reason.”

I sigh. She really should have been more careful with her rationing. “Rumil and I will share water with you.”

Rumil protests at the same time Cosima calls out her thanks. I leave them to their good-natured bickering and return my full focus to guiding my horse and my company.

A slight movement registers in the corner of my eye. “Draw arms!”

I unsheathe my sword and swing it to the right just in time to stop the arrow finishing its flight to my youngest brother. I block another one aimed at my neck. I hear Orophin and Baranor free the swords at their hips, as well as Rumil hurriedly instructing Cosima to take the reins. She protests, likely not yet fully registering the attack, and I cover them as they argue. “Cosima, do as he says,” I call back. I need Rumil and his bow to take out the attackers on the hillside to our right. Orcs, likely.

My suspicions are confirmed when twelve of them descend from the peaks to our left and right, converging on us in the middle. Rumil has evidently persuaded Cosima to take control of Roch and has put his bow to good use, killing the orc that focused its fire on us from above. Sharp clangs and the shouts of battle create a chaotic cacophony that is all too familiar. I urge Faervel forward, cutting through the middle of an orc as I go. One chances a blow to my leg but before it can carry out the act, I sever its head from its neck. By my count, ten more to go.

Arrows rain from above, this time coming from our left. Alexander shouts, and I risk turning around to see if he’s been hit. Thankfully, he hasn’t — an arrow had only come relatively close to him. I have to remind myself how frightening this must be for humans who have never experienced an orc ambush, or even an orc. While unpleasant, an attack like this is part of the job for myself and my wardens — even Baranor, who frequently heals others on the battlefield. With that in mind, I cut down another orc and bring Cosima into view. She grips Roch’s reins with an intensity that turns her knuckles white and whips her head around, trying to keep all the beasts in her line of sight. It pleases me to see that she’s attempting to be observant, even if her already weak senses are untrained and thus dilute her efforts.

While Rumil focuses fire on the orcs attempting to fell us with arrows, an orc in the infantry rushes Roch. Cosima jerks the reins to the right, spurring him into movement. The motion catches Rumil’s attention, and, with deadly accuracy, he hits the orc in the eye. He turns his attention back to the skies, attempting to locate those that still assail us with arrows.

Concussions sound to my left — the beasts have dislodged a pile of rocks, trying to crush us. Faervel is an intelligent steed and dodges the boulders skillfully, allowing me to keep my attention on beheading one of the orcs who jabs towards my middle. As I kill another, the arrows cease falling from above—Rumil’s done his job, then.

Six orcs left.

Those remaining attempt to surround us. Can’t have that. I guide Faervel past the furthest beasts and then turn, swinging my sword, forcing them to fall back. From the rear of our line, Orophin follows my lead, blocking an orc’s blow and returning it with a fatal one. Baranor rears his horse to narrowly avoid being knocked off by an axe. I tighten my jaw. It is risky forcing the orcs into the middle when four of our company must share that space with them. I shake my head, firm in my original decision. It is less risky than allowing the orcs to encircle us.

Alex yelps and directs Baranor to an orc approaching them from behind, having snuck past Orophin. They keep coming. They must be hiding in the rocks. My youngest brother recognizes the urgency building at the back of our line and concentrates his close-range fire on those that attack there. He has also noticed the threat hiding in the rocks and kills the beasts as quickly as he can identify them.

The noises of battle are loud, but any experienced warrior knows it’s the quieter sounds—the ones out of place—that are the most important. A boot scuffs against stone and I raise my sword just in time to meet the massive orc that throws himself from the rock above me. We collide, falling to the ground. The impact knocks the breath from me and the colossal weight on my chest definitely doesn’t help. With my left hand, I retrieve my dagger, slicing towards the beast’s neck. He stops me with his sword, pressing the blade to my own throat. He’s strong, but I’m stronger. I push against him, using the leverage from my movement to flip us over and, before he can register the change, I plunge my blade into his gut.

A fiery sting shoots up my leg and I kick my uninjured foot, knocking the newcomer in the head. He falls to the ground, stunned by the blow, and I draw myself to full height. His rotting flesh squelches when I stab him in the chest. In the second I have before another beast attacks me, I check the weapon that sliced my leg. Not poisoned. Good.

A scream pierces the air.

Cosima.

I whip around, locating her quickly. She gasps, gripping below her left shoulder, staring at the blood between her fingers in shock. I switch my dagger to my dominant hand and throw it forward. Within a second, it is buried to the hilt in her assailant’s chest, and he falls to the ground with a thud.

A blow from behind sends me sprawling, and I catch myself just before my face collides with the dirt. Coughing violently, I twist, jabbing my sword under the orc’s chest plate and in between his ribs — a fatal strike. Mentally, I reprimand myself for getting so distracted, and let my eyes wander around our surroundings, checking for any enemies we have yet to eliminate. Only one remains, and Orophin ends its life with a deliberate slice to the gut. Everyone is alive and accounted for, thank the Valar. I run to them.

Cosima’s face contorts in pain — she’s gone sickly pale. Panic I didn’t feel during the attack sears through my chest. How much blood can humans lose before it is fatal? “How badly are you hurt?”

“It’s just her arm,” Rumil answers for her, looking quite distressed himself. “It’s deep. I do not think the sword was poisoned, though.”

“You don’t think or you know? How sure are you?” My voice is harsh—harsher than it needs to be, probably, and I try to de-escalate. I’m likely still fired up from battle.

Rumil sets me with an even gaze, nothing but honesty in his eyes. “I know. The sword was not poisoned.”

I nod, feeling my breathing begin to slow. “Good.”

Alexander calls worriedly from the edge of the group. “What happened? Is she okay? Cosima!”

“I’m fine,” she grits back. Her voice is scratchy, strained, so obviously speaking through the pain that it makes my stomach hurt.

But the pain will pass, I remind myself. But for now, I can’t say for sure if the threat has. And I need to be sure.

“Baranor,” I gesture to my friend. “Bind her wound so it is secure for travel. Orophin—search back and make sure we are not being followed. I’ll scout ahead.”

Before turning to leave, my eyes seek Cosima’s of their own accord. Hers are tight, squinted against the pain I’m sure she’s not used to feeling. In them I see so much fear—terror, even—and I feel resolve settle within me. An attacker won’t get an opportunity like that again.

I pull my gaze away. There’s still work to do.

{***}

Thankfully, no orcs hide ahead. Though I am reluctant to leave the group for long, I spend a handful of moments retracing the trail our attackers took. It leads to a shallow, empty cave and an abandoned fire pit. Just to be safe, I stomp the pit under Faervel’s hooves. That will discourage other orcs from sheltering here.

In this rare moment of privacy, I roll up the edge of my right legging, assessing the injury to my leg. It’s shallow, just a slice, really, and the sting is minor enough that I’ve nearly forgotten about it. Satisfied that it’s not serious, I decide to wait to have Baranor look at it until we’re settled for the night. Right now, my top priorities are Cosima’s wound and getting moving again. Now that we’ve encountered a pack of orcs, I am even more eager to reach the safety of Imladris.

I ride back to where I left the others, arriving not long after Orophin. No orcs on his end, either. Good. I dismount, leaving Faervel in Rumil’s care and join Baranor where he crouches on the ground next to Cosima. Behind her, Alexander paces anxiously.

Baranor smoothes a salve over the torn skin. It seems he’s already cut away the excess cloth of her tunic sleeve and cleaned her wound. Part of me is grateful I was gone for it—by the haggard look on Cosima’s face, it can’t have been a pleasant experience. Like Rumil said, the wound is deep. Orcs don’t typically use well-crafted weapons, and this one was no different—a jagged blade had been used to injure Cosima, possibly an old knife or a scrap piece of metal fashioned into a rudimentary sword.

I raise my eyes to hers and find her already looking at me, watching my expression intently. Looking for signs that she should be worried, probably. I say a quick prayer of thanks to the Valar for my natural stoicism that gives nothing away and for our safety. Then, I address my obviously shaken friend. “Baranor is one of the best healers in Lothlórien. The cut looks frightening and hurts, but it will heal.”

She nods, keeping her jaw tightly clenched.

My heart aches. I look to Baranor, at a loss. His bedside manner comes much more naturally, and he gives an easy smile as he wraps a clean bandage around Cosima’s upper arm. “There, that will do the trick until we reach Imladris. I want to redress it tonight though, and again in the morning. I’ve used some of my power to aid the healing process begun by the salve—we’ll see where it’s at tonight. Don’t you worry my dear friend.”

Cosima bobs her head again, murmuring her thanks to our healer. The look on her face—stricken, fearful, pained—both hurts me and draws attention to the steadily growing guilt. I should have been faster. I should have looked out better. I should have—

I jerk my head to the side, trying to free myself from these thoughts. As leader of the group, all faults are mine. But dwelling on that now won’t keep us safe, so, for the time being, I stand, gesturing for the others to do the same. “We should get going. I don’t want to lose more time.”

Rumil nods and hands me Faervel’s reins, reaching down to help Cosima stand. I hear him whisper a heartfelt apology to her, sounding as if he feels just as much guilt as I do.

She waves it off, wincing when she moves her injured arm. “It’s not your fault. I’m okay.”

But her voice sounds fragile, devoid of the liveliness that characterized it this morning. Rumil also notices the change in our friend and is extra gentle when he grips her foot to lift her onto Roch’s back.

Something pricks at the edges of my mind, bothering me. “No.” I hear my voice ring out over the silence. I’m met with five pairs of questioning eyes. I clear my throat, hastening to gather my thoughts. “Rumil, I want you to guard the back with your bow. I’ll take Cosima on Faervel so you can focus on shooting if there’s another attack.”

Seeing the logic in this, Rumil nods, releasing Cosima and mounting Roch alone, leading the horse to the back of our company. As Alexander passes to join Baranor, he takes Cosima’s hand in his, squeezing. She gives him a tired-looking smile then walks to join me at the front of the group.

Automatically, I kneel, locking my hands together as I wait for her foot.

She hesitates. “No orcs in Imladris?”

I hold her gaze, wanting her to see the honesty in my eyes. “No orcs in Imladris.”

She swallows and places her boot in my hands. “Good. Let’s get going, then.”

I help her up, taking the opportunity to assess her face. The fear remains, but it is now eclipsed by a hardness, a determination. She’s putting up a wall. I know. I’ve been there.

But there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’re still in the orc-infested mountains and we need to reach safety. So, I grip Faervel’s mane and pull myself in front of Cosima. I give the order and we continue our journey.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are the best :) Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing on Ao3. That will notify you automatically when I post there!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @fangirl-nonsense @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @tolkien-apologist @ordinarymom1 @sam-was-the-true-hero @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

**Strikethrough means Tumblr won’t let me tag you**

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elsinore-rose · 4 years ago

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@jadesabre301 also requested the five things fic, so here’s the second part!

Jester hates Caleb’s ribcage.

Healing battlefield injuries is complicated. It’s not that the spell itself is complex — it’s the easiest thing in the world to whisper a prayer to the Traveler, to feel his power pulse through her holy symbol and then out through her hands — but it takes a lot out of her, and sometimes that energy, that glow of life, is hard to control. She’s still learning how to channel and harness it, figuring out how far to push with a broken bone, how deep to reach for a damaged organ, how tight to pull as she knits up a bloody wound.

So it really doesn’t help that some people’s bodies have parts that just don’t cooperate. Fjord’s muscles always fight back against the magic, twitching and spasming while Jester tries to match up tendon and fiber and joint. And there’s something about Beau’s stomach that reacts violently with the positive energy and always has her throwing up ten minutes after she’s been healed. But Caleb’s ribcage is the worst.

“Fucking...stubborn...fuckers...” Jester mutters through gritted teeth as she places her hands once more on Caleb’s bare chest and casts yet another Cure Wounds spell. This is the third one and he’s still coughing up blood. “Cayleb, you need to tell your ribs to behave.”

“I will pass the message along,” replies Caleb weakly. He’s got himself propped up on one elbow in the mud, trying to get a better view of the scene as Jester works on healing him. The rest of their small family is nearby, recovering from the fight, catching their breath or picking through demon corpses looking for stuff to loot. Caleb is the only person still actually wounded, and it’s because of his fucking ribcage.

“It always does this.” Jester concentrates on the flow of magic, willing it to stitch together marrow and bone, to mend the ragged rips torn into Caleb’s lungs. She can feel the resistance. It’s like his body resents her touch, like it doesn’t want to be healed. “We need to get you some better armor or something so you don’t take as many hits to the torso.”

“That would be nice,” he gasps as one rib snaps back into alignment.

Jester sits back on her knees. She exhausted and probably looks just as bad as Caleb does right now, covered in blood and mud and demon ichor. At least the fight is over. She’s so used to trying to keep people alive in the middle of things, to the frantic rush of prayer and heal and dodge and prayer and heal and pain. But it’s all over now. She has time. And if Caleb needs a fourth Cure Wounds, then that’s what Caleb will get.

He’s sitting up now, finally, and spits one last mouthful of blood out onto the ground. “Danke,” he murmurs to Jester. “I can walk now.”

That’s not good enough. “No, sit down,” Jester insists before Caleb can move to stand. She grabs his arm as gently as she can. “You’re still hurt. Let me cast it again — ”

“Jester, look at yourself.” With one hand Caleb reaches out and gently cups the side of her head, his thumb grazing across her temple, and when he pulls back his palm and fingers are red. “You are bleeding.”

“Oh.” Now that he mentions it...yes, her head hurts, a dull but deep sting, the echo of a sword’s bite just an inch too far to the left. She hadn’t even noticed. “Shit.”

Concern and fondness are mingled in Caleb’s tired eyes. “Why don’t you spend a little of that magic on yourself, hmm?”

“I don’t have much left…” Jester eyes Caleb’s chest again, studies the dark bruises forming along his side where the warhammer crushed him. “And you’re still bleeding inside. That’s more dangerous, Cayleb, this is just a scratch.”

He doesn’t argue, which surprises her. Instead he just looks at her, and it’s like they’re alone on this battlefield together, like everyone else has disappeared.

“I wish I could heal you,” he murmurs.

Warmth floods Jester’s heart. “You do, in your own way,” she replies softly. “All the time.”

Caleb smiles a little. “I mean properly.” He shifts a little, moving closer, and winces at the pain it causes him. “I don’t like to always...take. I wish I could give.”

“Then give me this.” Jester ignores the throbbing in her temple, the faint tickle of blood in her hair. “Healing you. Getting to see someone I care about get better.” She raises a playful eyebrow. “Getting to see you shirtless.”

Caleb laughs, and then immediately groans.

“Getting to see you laugh without it hurting, Cayleb,” Jester adds, an ache building behind her sternum even though she’s smiling. “Come on. Give me that.”

He holds her gaze for a long moment, before finally whispering, “Okay.”

It’s funny, Jester thinks as she pours another Cure Wounds into Caleb’s body, the way he doesn’t really understand what a gift it is. What a relief it is to be able to heal. What a pleasure it is to see someone whole, walking around alive and well, because of her hands. Caleb seems to feel like he owes her a debt, like each spell she casts is another entry in a ledger somewhere, written in red, a tally of blood pulled from Jester’s own veins.

I wish I could heal you, she thinks, her palms flat against his skin, fingers trembling. I mean properly. It’s not his ribcage that troubles her, not really, it’s not his body at all. It’s that deeper pain that she can’t touch, not with all her magic.

Not yet anyway. She grits her teeth again, and channels the spell, and pushes.

#widojest

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yanderenightmare · 4 years ago

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YANDERE ! BAKUGO KATSUKI x FEM ! READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: ableism, abuse, anxiety, blood, drugs, narcissism, slavery, torture, trauma, noncon/dubcon, yandere

PART ONE

SAFETY - part two

INDISPUTABLY MINE

She didn’t know how long she’d been out for. The remnants of a suppressed panic festering in her chest, simmering like charcoaled embers in her heart, still partially subdued due to the drugs still swimming about in her system, however ready to catch flame any second.

The sun was only slightly farther down the sky now as it was before. Whether that was an indication of how little time had gone or how much, she didn’t know. His teeth marks were ever present on her neck and chest the more consciousness she gained. Even though she had no way of seeing them. She felt them. Not only because they stung, but because they made her feel dirty, and weak, and fragile, and owned.

The more she squirmed the more she recognized other nips and pecks littered across her body, trailing down lower than just her chest. A sudden dreadful realization ran through her, the feeling cold and burning beneath her skin. Her clothes no longer adorned her body, and seemed foreign and unsalvageable in their singed state, where they were carelessly scattered on the floor next to her. What had replaced them was glistening drool that felt stiff but still wet, coating around the blossoming bruises he’d left in his wake.

“You look perfect like that.” The unmistakable tone seemed so strange and eerie and dangerous and gut-wrenching now. Making the thin hairs on her arms rise in cold-dreaded fear, as she met that crooked grin. Those vivid blood-irises and pupils alike blackholes, sucking her in and keeping her there with a death-grip. The other half of a hero she respected, looked up to even, despite his brash nature. “With my mark all over you.” She didn’t see a hint of that hero in the man before her. “Indisputably mine.” A villain had taken his place. A villain who ran his tongue over his lips, inspecting his victim.

In her increasing fear she nearly passed out again upon seeing him in the similar condition she was in. Bruises, or… rather deep unforgiving scars, some still healing, marring his sand-colored skin. Intimidating evidence that he’d survived far worse than she could ever imagine, ever even hope to have lived through. But, the state of his skin was only a mild concern that wavered over her, not exactly what caused the tremors ruining her. The fact that there was so much skin, too much skin without any coverage. He was nude, and proud; confident despite her obvious dread. Licking his lips like some beast. Admiring her from the threshold of the door. She would have felt disgusted if it weren’t for the thundering terror that rendered her sick worthless, as she was being looked up and down by the predatory heat found in his eyes. She still felt the nausea brew inside her, drawing her legs closer, not daring to look away as his large hand lazily rubbed up and down on his intimidating cock. His lingering gaze viewing her as though she was something already owned, already his, a resolution to prove it also evident among the drowning of crimson.

The cuff around her ankle suddenly felt that much heavier now as she was aware of its presence. How it would keep her from running. How it would keep her trapped, in his bed, naked, with him, just as naked, however infinitely less vulnerable.

She felt the spit bile up in her throat, eyes stinging. When he pushed himself off the wall and took a step further, she was soon spluttering out sobs that seemed to wreak though her with determination. His free hand stroking up her thigh with ease. She tried kicking, but her feeble struggles were nothing short of pitiful as he placed himself between her knees. The sinking of the bed mirroring seasickness, as she felt the overwhelming urge to throw up.

It was all so very consuming, the way her stomach seemed to fold in all those special types of fear people often go their entire lives without ever having met. Her guts turning, churning, winding like snakes inside her. Hiccupping, choking on her cries uncontrollably as his calloused hands once again found her waist, only now she didn’t have any fabric to separate them from her delicate skin. The thought that he’d touched and groped and played with her while she was drowsed out crept into her thoughts and shook her beyond what she could handle.

It was violent, Katsuki thought, looking down at the fragile creature beneath him. Beautiful. It was a prideful glee more than a sadistic one. It fueled him to think she was entirely at his mercy. To think she could do nothing to stop him, utterly defenseless, yet so very… beautiful. Why do Gods fall in love with such weak things? He pondered, while examining the contrast between his hand and hers, seeming massive and deadly against the elegance of her small one. She was something so untouched, so very soft, especially under the callous soles of his fingers. Naïve. Sweet. Cute. So very adorable. So small and weak and made for him. It was endearing, the way she didn’t even have the wits with her to protest or to beg or bargain. She barely even struggled, the strength of her cries too vehement for her to focus on anything else. She quaked instead, each sob more frantic than the one before, staggering through her body. Bound to tire herself out. Katsuki amused himself with the thought while containing her wrists easily in one hand pinned above her head, although it seemed exaggerated; unnecessary. He wasn’t really sure if he would at all feel it if she tried to pry her hands out of his grip. Touching her lovingly with the other hand, stroking down her chest, liking how her tits bounced with each of her heavy, earthshattering cries. He didn’t feel ashamed for his growing arousal. He was a God. It was in his right to do as he pleased. To reap his offerings.

His tip teased her entrance, precum smeared over the lips of her pussy. Not serving as enough wetness for him to push through, but his strength couldn’t be quarreled by the weak barrier. However, he was in no hasty mood. He was going to enjoy himself, thoroughly.

She’d wrenched her eyes shut, but as his fingers started ghosting tickles over her folds, sliding the tips through them every so often, she made to look down in horror. Her sobs had subsided enough, though she was far from being calm or collected, still consistently quivering. Her cheeks stained with raw, red wetness. Eyes spiraling from looking up at him to his teasing fingers as she tried twisted her thighs closed, but he kept her perfectly spread with his knees propped up under her. Eyes so bright and glossy, flecked with red; bloaty, just like her lips. With fingers still delving between the lips of her pussy, he licked up her cheek, swiping up at the salty, tender flesh. His tongue; boiling against the sensitive skin, before his teeth made to tug at her puffy lips, grinding the soft, plump chunk between them. The whimpers that followed sounded wet. Wet and mushy and delicious for his ears to receive. He deepened the kiss, growling as a threat for her to oblige him, something which she did when she felt the burning threat his hands provided against her delicate wrists. Hesitant kisses met with his brutal, overpowering ones. His tongue fighting against any resistance left in her mouth, only to be met with pitiful and delectable sniveling. “That’s right…” The words poured into her mouth. “Just obey.” She didn’t dare refrain.

He wanted to test that timidity, breaking apart from his assault on her mouth to plunge his fingers as far down her throat as they could reach. Smirking an open-wide grin as she choked, coughing spit all over his digits. Giving her no time to breathe before his mouth was back on hers. His fingers dipping playfully into her folds again and again before he decided to test out her tightness. One finger entered and he felt her jolt against him, sobbing a moan against his lips.

“You like that, don’t you?” She twisted unenthusiastically, whining while crying, trying desperately to wiggle away from him burying his finger knuckle-deep inside her. “You like my finger inside you?” He didn’t really expect an answer as he started pumping in and out. “I know you do.” He decided to reward her by stretching her pussy out with yet another digit inside her. She cried out this time, visible pain in her sewn-together brows. He only laughed while curling and scissoring his finger into the warm, spongy walls inside her, drawing out wetness and more woeful moans and gasps and whimpers.

Not wanting to disrupt those mouthwatering sounds escaping her lips, he made to bite and kiss at her neck instead. Her hands growing numb above her at how hard he was gripping her wrists. She wondered for a moment why he hadn’t tied them up instead, but found the unsettling result that he must draw an inane amount of pleasure by being the sole reason she was left so utterly defenseless. Tying her up would keep him from that satisfaction.

“You’re not paying attention.” He growled when the strained whimpers died down and grew more controlled than he’d like them.

Her musings were cut short as he added yet another finger. At this she shrieked. “Please…” She begged, whimpering and mewling. He felt the sounds reverberate beneath her skin, torrenting on his tongue and lips on her neck. He growled a groan into her ear, before it broke out into a low, patronizing chuckle.

“Believe it or not, I’m doing you a favor…” She was too distracted to feel the smirk up against her throat, or to detect the smugness in his tone. Wincing and gasping at how all three of his big fingers stretched out the ring of muscle inside her. The aching tender flesh sending sharp shoots of pain to rocket through her abdomen. “How on earth are you gonna survive me, huh? If you can’t take three fingers inside you, I wonder how loud you’ll howl when you take my entire cock.” She began sobbing again, crying through her moans. “Poor little baby…” He kissed down her breasts, sucking and biting at the nimble flesh. Taking her nipple into his mouth and pulling at it with his teeth. “Let me kiss it all better.” There was a growl present in the sentiment, and it shook her to the very core.

His hand let go of her wrists as his fingers quit their unrelenting pumping in and out of her, to assist in holding her spread open for him when he moved down to lick between her folds. She pushed at his head with her newly freed hands, but the struggle was short-lived when he grabbed each wrist in a new deadlock in each of his fists, as he propped her up under his arms. She made a series of protests and pleas. Begging, pleading for him to stop, but he simply replied by teasingly dragging his tongue agonizingly slow up between her slick folds, only to flick off at her clit. The act earning him a shaky moan which his ears fluttered upon hearing.

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head about it. Your hero’s gonna take good care of you.” He twirled his tongue around the sensitive pearl, before flattening it on top, closing his lips around and sucking the skin into his mouth.

Her knees started shaking, weakening, submitting. He smirked up against her, swiping his tongue up and down in a quick pace, before moving back to her clit and flicking from side to side. And, despite her arms continuing to struggle, her lower half was melting beneath him; surrendering. He knew exactly what strings to pull to make her back arch upward and for the moans to come spluttering past her lips. Relentless in his conquest too. Lapping, biting, sucking, growling at the tenderness found at his mouth for him to devour, for him to conquer, for him to storm into surrender. And, just as she felt the guilty knot brimming inside her, he pulled away with a mellow kiss, a stark contrast to the earlier ravaging. Inching back up to place his throbbing cock at her drooling pussy. Planting his hand on her chest, just between her lungs, her useless fists weakly banging at his arm as he steadied himself. His other hand gripping his cock to better place it against her.

Her eyes wild and frantic as they looked up at him, shaking her head hysterically. “Katsuki, please-” Was enough for him to push inside her, all in one quick thrust, feeling her tight walls pulsate against him. He intended to go in slowly, but she was sending him over the edge with all her begging. To both their surprise the sound that escaped her sounded oddly pleasurable and not as though she was being defiled. Something in between the mix of a gasp and a moan, only barely a wince embedded into the wet noise.

His whole length inside her, feeling the warmth of the snug fit wrapped around him. She felt as though she could feel him up in her throat, as she choked. Her head spiraling, ascending.

His mouth hung upon, eyes closed in euphoria. “Fuck-” He pulled out slowly, letting her feel every muscle, every ridge, every vein of him inside her. Almost all the way out, he snapped forward again and this time she made a moan so pure, so sweet, so ambrosial. Again, he pulled back slowly as his hand dove to push down into the plush flesh of her breasts and started tweaking at her nipple roughly, pinching, her hands lazily holding onto his arm. She moaned so beautifully for him when he started lolling his hips into her, letting her get used to his size before increasing his tempo. “You take me so fucking well…” It was so far from ashamed, the way he groaned and moaned at her tightness enveloping him. As though made for him.

As it seemed her arms were rendered useless in the unwanted state of bliss she found herself lost in, he took the opportunity to grab under her knees and push them flat against the bed. This way, he could better slot his head in the crook of her neck as he started thrusting, rolling his hips into her harder and faster for each time he bottomed out inside her. His heavy balls slapping against her ass served as yet another lewd noise that filled the room, echoing off the deliberately barren walls. His ears perked up and perched right next to her mouth, all her little sounds so sheer for him to drool over.

She was again shocked by his painful thrusts back to reality, bringing her hands with her to push at his shoulder to get off. But, the tempo of which he now had adopted rocked her so violently, his weight unmoving on top of her. Her weak protests only aiding his determination to fill her up with his length. Her wiggles as well were constrained by his hands holding her thighs in place and only resulted in upping the friction and movement received by his cock pumping in and out of her. Her hands were her only means of weapons, as she made to scratch up his back in a feral attempt to make him stop, but he rather enjoyed that type of pain above what he would usually face in battle, it seemed in a strange way a type of affection he lusted for, especially when accompanied with her tight pussy clenching around his shaft, in what he thought of was needy and clingy and loving in all the right ways. “Pretty kitty has claws now, does she?” He chuckled, the labored breaths and grunts fanning over her chest, causing goosebumps to spread like wildfire on her skin. “Well… this wolf’s got fangs.” His bite sunk into her throat, on top yet slightly ajar from the previous bite he’d gifted her with. She wailed, quitting her terrorizing on his back, digging her nails into her own palms instead.

“Katsuki…” She moaned and he moaned in return at the sound of his name drip so sweetly off her tongue, removing the pressure his teeth had around her neck. “Please…” He licked up her throat, sucking up the taste of metal he’d made surface, biting at her earlobe when he reached it.

“Are those the only words you know?” He snickered in her ear. His weight nearly suffocating her, his thrusts so deep and so fast and so hard and so very crucial. “Have I melted your brain that much already, huh?” Groaning and moaning and grunting savagely into her neck. “That’s right… those are the only words you need to know. That, and telling me how much you love me, how much you adore me, how much you love being mine, how much you love my cock, how much you love it when I fuck you into oblivion…” He continued rambling, each word barked out as he pushed his twitching cock inside her welcoming warmth and comfort, her pussy pressing around him in a tight embrace.

“Please, Katsuki…” She said again, her voice a mix of a whisper, a whimper and a moan. “Go slower… please.” Her begging was so sweet, but he couldn’t possibly relent now, not when she clung to him like this, his body melting into her, her thighs sticking to him in sweat and juices, he needed this, she needed him, he wasn’t going to stop.

“Beg me some more.” It was low and guttural whisper, more of a prayer than a command. He couldn’t help it, not when she was clenching so tightly around him, sucking him in. Not when she was so wet, dripping, drooling, around his cock, just for him. She did as he said, begging with his name spilling from her lips. He responded by hoisting her one leg over his shoulder to free his hand, moving it down to her clit, thumb rubbing rough circles upon the highly sensitive spot. She gasped and moaned, clinging to him harder, saying his name again and again until he really couldn’t hold back any longer. Thrusting quicker and harder, building up into one last time with one loud and heavy moan, hitting even deeper inside her, emptying his balls into her quivering pussy as he nuzzled soundly in her neck. Heavy panting against sweat-slicked skin.

His drool coating her and running down her chest, relaxing to feel every bit of his orgasm, savoring it. He made a couple more, slow and careful pumps into her, feeling his cum drip down his shaft at each movement. She uttered something about how he was a monster, but he chose to ignore it in his bliss, keeping on rubbing those quick patterns over her clit, feeling as she wiggled under him.

Taking ahold of her throat, as he kissed down her chest once again, licking up the taste of her sweat. “Beg me.” His words were muffled into her skin. “You want me to make you cum?” The condescending tone was unbearable as his thumb slowed its friction against her clit, his cock still biting at the sweet spot inside her.

Nipping at her nipples, tightening around her neck when she tried to wrench his head off her. “Yes… please, Katsuki.” She clawed at his hand around her throat, but it only resulted in him tightening his hold. “Please, please, make me cum, Katsuki.” His grip relented, content with what he had reduced her to. Keeping his cock inside her, his thumb racing over her clit again and again until she came all over him, her back arching into him in the softest from of gratitude.

She whimpered, obviously disgusted with herself, while the both of them panted their hot breaths onto each other’s skin. “So… fucking perfect.” He continued circling her clit with his thumb, despite her growing panicked restlessness beneath him. “Just for me.” Moving both hands to wrap around her neck, he growled at her to kiss him back. She complied with a whimper, trying her best to compensate his hungry kisses. “Tell me you love me.” He pressed on her neck, as she started crying again. Her orgasm still crippling and waving through her, she didn’t even want to look at him.

When she didn’t answer, he decided to pressure her neck even more. Sniffling and choking, feeling the soreness sting in her throat both from his iron-grip and from all the sobbing and screaming she’d committed since Katsuki decided she belonged to him. She managed to force the words out with a strangled struggle. “I, I… I love you…” He stopped his tight hold, biting her lip. Her legs still held up with him placed between her thighs. Skin to skin.

“Say my name.” He commanded softly, resting his forehead against hers, enjoying the slippery of sweat between them.

“I love you, Katsuki.” Her large, shimmering eyes stared into his crimson ones, the scent of caramel more overwhelming than ever. He finally pulled his cock out and praised her as he climbed off. Settling in beside her instead, pulling her body into him, chin resting atop her head. She heard him say it back, feeling his cum seep slowly out of her, knowing that she should be expecting the same thing tomorrow.

She cried, too scared to sleep as she felt the unrelenting, low growling from the monster behind her.

PART ONE

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silver-inked · 3 years ago

Note

Hi Ink! It’s me ‘cough cough biggest fan of A Pair of Stars.’ What director’s commentary would you give on the scene where Nina and Gaston find out the truth, the secret their friends had been keeping the whole time? Also if there was a scene you would rewrite or add more material, which one would it be and why? Feel free to also add anymore director’s commentary since I would love to read more of it!

P.S: A Pair of Stars will forever be one of my favorite fanfics ever. A true masterpiece

First of all akdshfladsl, thankyou and ahhh! your constant support for A Pair of Stars is something I will never get over. Ther iconic cover you made for it amazes me to this day. ITS SO PRETTY.

1. This fic stems from my need to give Luna and Ambar some proper development between each other. There was so much potential, and although I love what they did with Simon and Monica, not including Luna into the mix didn’t make sense to me. Ambar bullied Luna for three years straight and I’m supposed to think Luna would just get over it so quickly, without any conflict? Nope.

So, I put Luna and Ambar in the one cannon situation in s2, that isolated Ambar the most so that they would be forced to deal with each other (Ambar burning a building, something I think is wild, ironic, heart breaking and funny storyline wise. But also, i still can’t believe it happened in canon but I slso do). And I added Matteo into the mix because it would make the dynamic much more complicated, and ultimately help fix the issues between the main three ships in s2 if Matteo already got along with Gastina and Ambar. Also, its a fix it fic, and I will take any chances to fix the mess which was Lutteo s2.

Simon, Nina, and Gaston didn’t know for angst reasons I must admit, but also because Luna, Matteo and Ambar would be terrified to tell them. The three are cinnamon rolls, and the most good people on earth. Nina would convince Luna to tell the truth, and both Matteo and Luna don’t know how they would face their friends. Plus the angst is fun to write.

When Gastina finds out the truth they are horrified, but mostly hurt, because everything finally makes sense. They are the most hurt (Simon too but ignore him for now), because they love Lutteo, and they had been begging Lutteo to tell them what’s wrong. But in the end Gastina would do anything for Lutteo. And they decide to blindly trust Lutteo again, because they love them. It takes the four of them time to heal that friendship, and throughout the next chapters after that everything feels a bit broken between them, because it very much is broken.

But Nina is the most devastated, and that’s why it takes her much longer to get over it. I think by the end of the fic, she understands why Luna did it, but it still stings, and it takes her a while after the fic move on from it.

Luna taught Nina to open up, and then Luna lied to Nina for months. It really hurt their friendship. They eventually got through it, but it was hard.

I reworked that chapter several times because there was just so much going on in it. It was supposed to highlight the biggest conflict between Simbar in s2, but alongside it had to basically expose the main trio's lies to everyone within a single chapter. Also, in one version someone dies. It was a weird Sharon plotline.

If you have any other specific questions let me know. This is what automatically poped into my head.

2. If I were to add a scene, I would have added a couple short scenes showing Ambar and Luna getting used to being free of Sharon and living in the mansion together. It would be lighthearted and focus on how much the girls grew a couple months after the whole thing ended.

#sapphire374 #thankyou for the ask!#ink.ask #also there was going to be a scene where ambar met her bio mom

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whumpingcrow · 3 years ago

Text

Pt. 12 "It's Already October?"

CW: PTSD themes, nightmares, insomnia, dishonesty about mental state, past noncon/dubcon mention, past abuse mention, emotional abuse, panic attack, tics/tourrettes, food mention, slapping mention, injury mention, blood, self harm (explicit), razor mention, bondage mention, drugs/alcohol (explicit), August is sort of in this one, oblivious caretaker, party setting, halloween setting (Let me know if I missed anything!)

(Note, as a general warning these two upcoming chapters are going to be pretty graphic with descriptions/intensity of the situation, and I really want to reinforce that I prefer if these stories are viewed by 18+ readers, and is read with discretion <3 -Crow)

The last time that Elias had talked to Allen, he had promised that things were going to start getting easier, that the pain and the fear would ebb and it would all begin to feel ok very soon. Elias was beginning to think that he had a different idea of 'soon' than Allen did, because he wasn't feeling like it was getting any better. If anything, it seemed like it was only going to keep getting worse. His nightmares were so violent and often that he didn't even put in effort to sleep anymore, he simply stayed up after the first time he was jolted out of his sleep. After that he would always sneak out of the room around Tyson and busy himself with something until he woke up as well. He was constantly tired, sure, but it was ridiculously hard to convince himself to close his eyes and force himself back into a nightmare once he was already awake. It made him feel incredibly ashamed, but he was getting rather good at hiding how much all of it was really wearing down on him from Tyson, how he wasn't allowing his injuries to heal, how he was always terrified and exhausted. Except that this didn't exactly go in his favor, because he was acting so good that Tyson decided he could go back to work.

"I'm not working the full shift, so I'll be back before you even know it. You'll probably sleep the whole time, won't even know I'm gone." He smiled at Elias, who was sitting at the edge of the bed watching him get ready. "If you need anything, you can call Leo or Allen, or me if you don't wanna call them."

Elias nodded, only out of obedience, he didn't want to bother anyone by calling them in the middle of the night. He could deal with it himself, just like he always did. "You look nice in your scrubs," he said, to deflect the attention off of himself, "like one of those hot doctors from that show."

Tyson laughed and flopped onto the mattress next to him. "Yeah? This pale blue really brings out my eyes, huh?" He melted as Elias laughed, the sound of it was light and, if he dared to think, happy. Maybe he was gonna be just fine, he seemed like he was doing alright so far. He was hopeful, and the fact that he was about to leave Elias alone all night and he was alright enough to be laughing had to be a good sign, right? It was ironic, but it seemed like Elias was less nervous about the whole situation than Tyson was. With a small sigh, he reached over and smoothed out a wrinkle on the sheets and mumbled, "I'm gonna miss you."

At that, Elias turned his gaze away from him, trying not to let his upset that he was leaving show. "You'll be too busy to miss me." He insisted, forcing as much humor into the sentence as possible.

"I highly doubt that." Tyson pulled him against his chest, kissing his cheek gently. When he thought about having to stand up to leave, dread filled his chest and weighed him down enough to stay put. He tried not to think about how someone might break in, how they might take Elias away from him again, how he would be powerless, so far away. August was in jail now, he reminded himself, Elias would be ok.

"You're gonna be late, Doctor." Elias teased him, pushing him away playfully. He smiled when Tyson sighed heavily and stood up, looking him up and down.

"Ok... I'll see you in the morning. Promise you'll call someone if anything happens?" He waited for Elias to nod, then grabbed his bag and turned to the door.

He only made it a few steps before he heard Elias stand up, his voice small and scared as he breathed, "Tyson, wait."

"Hm?" He looked over Elias, who had his arms wrapped around himself and looked like he might fall over any second. He was silent for a long time, squeezing his hands tightly around the materiel of his shirt, looking like he was too nervous to say what was on his mind.

"I love you," he finally muttered, "that's all. Have a good night."

Tyson grinned at him and crossed the room again to kiss him. "I love you too. Get some rest."

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

Whatever movie was playing on the TV was boring, Elias couldn't seem to focus on it. He had been sitting on the couch the majority of the night, smoking weed every time he felt uneasy. He got up a few times to double-check that the door was locked, just to make himself feel a little better. It was painfully lonely without Tyson, without the simple knowledge that there was someone else in the house with him. He debated calling him, just to hear his voice, but he didn't want to take him away from his work. Then he wondered if maybe he should call Allen, that he might have some advice about being alone. Really he felt like he just needed someone to talk to, someone to tell him that he was doing alright.

"Everything you're doing is wrong," August was sighing, shaking his head disdainfully. The disappointed glare in his deep blue eyes could've killed Elias, made his chest ache so painfully every other injury he'd ever gotten from August paled in comparison. August was a monster, a sadistic devil of a man who's main goal seemed to be causing everyone else around him misery. So then, Elias found himself wondering time and time again, why was displeasing him so upsetting? Why did Elias feel like he was crumbling to pieces without his approval? "Tyson's too soft on you. But you know that, of course, don't you sweetheart?"

"I'm trying to do what you taught me it's just...he doesn't care. I don't know what to do."

"Yes you do. You've got to be punished, my love." Just like always, his voice was disgustingly honeyed, even as August grabbed him by the throat and pinned him to the ground. Elias didn't even see him grab them, but there were the ropes again, tight around his wrists as always, and Elias couldn't move, and he could see the glint of the razor inching closer to his skin.

"August please God, no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please I'll do better!" He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, August was going to slice into him again and he couldn't handle anymore pain.

"You know you need it, Elias. Remember, it's to help you be better. Don't you want to be better?" His voice was sweet, almost caring, even with the corner of the razor digging into his skin.

Elias didn't remember falling asleep, but all at once he was bolting off of the couch and gasping in frenzied breaths, looking around the dimly lit room for any sign of danger. He was alone still, there was no one with him. As soon as he realized it was only a nightmare, he blindly reached forward until his hand brushed the glass pipe on the table. He didn't waste any time pulling it toward him so that he could get high again. Even though the smoke made him cough, he felt like he could breathe a little better the foggier his head got. He checked his phone, disappointed when he saw Tyson hadn't checked up on him yet and that it would still be hours until he got back. Without meaning to, he thought back to the nightmare, what August was saying. His subconscious August, at least.

Would he feel better if someone hurt him? Would it make him stop lying and hiding what he was feeling if he just got into trouble for it once? He knew Tyson wouldn't ever lay a hand on him, and August was long gone. But the more he lingered on the idea, the more he realized how much he needed the pain. His anxiety only began to worsen again as he dwelled on it, so he stood up and tried to busy himself by cleaning up. It helped for a bit, he was mostly distracted enough that he didn't think of the nightmare or the idea of being punished, until he got to the bathroom.

He was paralyzed the second he saw the large straight razor sitting menacingly on the shelf of the medicine cabinet, similar to the one August had used on him. He could feel the sharpness of it without even touching it, he was familiar with the sting and the burn that came when it was dragged heavily against his skin, he remembered the dull soreness of the injuries when they started healing. What he didn't know was how it would feel to hold it, though, he had never been allowed to touch it in that way. He wondered how heavy it would be, if it would be cold or not. His hand was trembling as he reached out and picked it up, his breath bated as he looked it over. It was so god damn sharp. If someone were to hold it to his skin and just ruin him, he imagined it would probably be like pushing a reset button, like he would be brand new when it was all over. At the thought, he set it down and pulled his sweatshirt off, not even bothering to look at himself in the mirror, grabbing the razor again once his shirt was on the floor. There was nothing he wanted more than to cry at the dangerous thoughts running through his head, but at the same time this felt like the only option. He placed the razor over the healing cuts on his forearms, taking a few ragged breaths to gain some courage.

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

Tyson felt bad when Elias flinched awake as he crawled into bed with him, he seemed to be sleeping so peacefully. He looked lost and scared as he sat up, squinting through the dark at Tyson.

"Just me, love. I was gonna come sleep with you for a bit, is that ok?" He asked him, finding his hand on the blanket and brushing his fingertips over it.

Elias's shoulders dropped back to relaxed and he moved closer to Tyson, allowing him to pull him against his chest as they laid back down. "How was work?" He whispered.

"It was alright. How was your night?" He rubbed up and down his back, trying not to be bothered as he felt his spine underneath his hand.

Elias was silent for a while, then he cleared his throat. "I missed you a lot. It was lonely here."

"Yeah, I bet. Did you sleep well? I mean, before I woke you up."

"Uh...yeah, sort of. I stayed up late though. Watched a movie." He snuggled closer to Tyson, against his bare chest, sighing at the warmth.

They talked for a little longer, until Tyson was too tired to stay awake, and then Elias just stayed close to him and listened to him breathing for a long time. He couldn't fall asleep again, mostly because he didn't want to wake Tyson up if he had a nightmare, but also because he couldn't get comfortable with all of the new cuts on his arms.

There was a lot more blood than Elias was expecting, and he was too shocked to move for a second as he watched the red ribbons stream down his skin, and then a sort of sick calm washed over him. He didn't remember it feeling this relieving when August did it, but, God, did it feel like a breath of fresh air. So he just kept going, and soon he was covered in blood, like he was used to, and he turned off the light and sat at the bottom of the shower for awhile until the bleeding stopped.

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

After the sun started to shine through the curtains, Elias slipped out of Tyson's arms carefully and made his way to the kitchen, busying himself by making breakfast. He made himself some coffee while he waited for the french toast to cook, then he began to cut up some fruit. It felt odd to hold the knife after hurting himself the night before, and he found himself shaking slightly. He was doing everything he could to stay busy, he felt like if he stopped moving he would sit down and fall asleep, and he couldn't handle another nightmare. He didn't want to see August anymore, he wanted it to really be over, and when he was dreaming about him it was like actually being around him again.

"That smells amazing." Tyson remarked as he came into the kitchen. Elias jumped hard, nearly dropping the knife that he was holding.

"Jesus," he huffed, trying to breathe so his heart would stop racing, "I didn't know you were awake."

Tyson sighed as he leaned against the counter, looking around at all the food. "I just woke up."

Tyson looked so good, his dark, curly hair was messy, his face was still tired and he was shirtless and his voice was gruff from sleep. Elias set the knife down as carefully as he could and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around his torso and hugging him close. "Well, good morning, then."

"Good morning. How long have you been awake?"

"Oh, uh...I um..."

"Did you go back to sleep after I got home?" He pulled away from Elias and inspected his face. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he couldn't really tell if it was from lack of sleep or the healing bruises. Tyson knew he was getting thinner from holding him, but now that he was looking at him harder, he could see it in his face, too. He frowned as Elias shook his head, then placed his hand over his cheek.

"I'm sorry," Elias choked out, fearful over the disdainful look on Tyson's face, "I tried to, I just couldn't...I just didn't wanna have another nightmare-"

"Hey, it's ok, love. You've got nothing to be sorry about."

Even though his voice was nothing but sweet and loving, Elias turned away from him with a frustrated sigh. "For fucks sake, Tyson!" He groaned, grabbing the counter to steady himself. "I'm fucking up so bad why cant you just, like, fucking yell at me or something!?"

Tyson was shocked at the outburst, gawking at him for a moment, left speechless. He was angry at him for not being angry? Allen had been similar when he first got back, tried everything he could think of to get the people around him to see that he was bad, that he was deserving of pain, but that stopped for the most part once he realized that the people around him were safe and wouldn't hurt him even if he wanted them to. He could see Elias shaking where he stood and he felt helpless in that moment, like there was no way he could comfort him.

"Elias," he said softly, stepping carefully toward him, "you have been through more pain and fear than anyone should have to deal with in their entire lifetime. I can't imagine how hard it is for you to adjust after that, and I'm not going to punish you because you're having a hard time."

Suddenly, Elias burst into tears, caving in on himself as his shoulders shook in sobs. "You don't understand! I'm so...I need...I need you to fucking...! God fuck Tyson!"

"Baby calm down." Tyson moved to grab his shoulders in some attempt to soothe him, but Elias turned and shoved his arms away, stumbling back from him. "Elias, please-"

"Shut the fuck up! Shut up Tyson, stop being so fucking nice to me!" He covered his face as he cried, sinking down to the floor with a thud. Tyson sat down across from him, hands to himself, and watched as he began to rock back and forth a little.

"I love you Eli-"

"Stop it! Please stop it!"

"-I love you so much and you're not doing anything wrong."

Elias only got more hysteric at that, his breathing so quick and labored that Tyson was worried he might pass out. When Elias began to tic and hit his injured hand against the ground, Tyson grabbed his wrist to hold him still. Elias fought harder, screaming to be let go, for Tyson to "stop fucking touching him!" and thrashing in his grip. He wasn't going to calm down, not like this, not on his own, and he was hurting himself, so Tyson had no other choice. In one quick movement, he slapped Elias across the face.

He felt bad instantly, of course, but Elias grew still, apart from his body trembling and his shoulders rising and falling with his labored breathing. He looked up at Tyson, fear etched into every detail of his face. After a few seconds of silence, he dropped his head down and took a deep breath.

"Th-thank you," he breathed, his voice just as shaky as his body, "thank you, Tyson."

Tyson shook his head, fighting the tears in his eyes as he stood up. "Come here."

Elias slowly pushed himself to his feet, sniffling a few times and trying to steady his breathing. He stiffened when Tyson grabbed his shoulders, only bowing his head further in submission. He fought the familiar dread he usually had when August was only just beginning a punishment, when he knew he was going to be weak and broken and near death in a moment. Logically, he knew Tyson wouldn't hurt him as bad as August would, but after being hit, his brain went right back to that same fearful, trained head-space.

"Look at me, baby," Tyson whispered. When Elias shook his head and grew even more tense, Tyson took a step toward him. "Eli, angel," he cooed, tilting his face up until he grudgingly made eye contact. "Are you ok?"

Elias nodded eagerly, eyes still wide and terrified. "M'ok." He insisted. Tyson knew it was just because he thought it was what he wanted to hear, he could still see the fear and the pain written on his face.

"I'm so sorry I hit you. I won't do it again." He wiped the tears from his face as he spoke. His cheek was red from where he hit him, and Tyson's heart sank further. "I love you so much, Elias, I never want to hurt you. Ever."

Elias forced a small smile, nodding his head. "It's ok. I love you." He flinched a fraction as Tyson stooped down to hug him, then melted into his arms. He closed his eyes and took a few more deep breaths. He counted to ten, then pulled away and cleared his throat. "Your breakfast is gonna get cold."

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

Tyson couldn't be sure if it was just because he had been hit earlier and now wanted more than ever to please him or if he genuinely wanted to, but he was surprised when Elias insisted they go to Leo and Allen's for the Halloween party they'd been invited to. When Tyson brought it up, it was mostly just to let Elias know that they were thinking of him, that he had friends who wanted to see him, he wasn't expecting him to want to go. Initially, Elias was just shocked that it was already Halloween, had he been with August for that long...? Had it already been almost two weeks since he'd last seen him? He tried not to act too bothered about how much it shook him up, realizing he'd completely lost his sense of time lately. But once Elias said that he would love to go, Tyson gladly agreed, promised Elias that if it got uncomfortable or overwhelming they would leave. Elias was amused with Tyson's makeshift costume, his tight red shirt and cheap devil horn head band. He looked ridiculously attractive, and here Elias was in his oversized hoodie he'd been wearing for days and an added jacket, his hair and face were both an absolute mess. He felt ugly, not that he didn't always feel like that lately, but as long as Tyson was distracting him he wasn't really thinking about it.

The party had a lot more people than either of them were expecting, the house was buzzing with conversation and music and loud laughter, and Elias was instantly intimidated. He reached for Tyson's hand and stood close to him, looking down at his shoes as he was guided through the crowd.

"Hey! I didn't think you guys would come!" Someone was saying. Elias looked up for a split second to see it was Leo, who was grinning ear to ear. Elias was envious of his carefree happiness, and he wanted to sob when Tyson let go of his hand to hug Leo. "How are you, Elias?"

He flinched at the sound of his own name, snapping his eyes up to Leo. He hated being addressed like that, like a person, because every time he could hear August pounding it into his brain that he was less than human, that he wasn't important enough to be spoken to, that he was only alive because August allowed it, because August wanted to use him, because he was a punching bag, because he was a sex toy, because-

"I'm fine," he choked out, forcing a tight smile. "Do you have any booze?"

Leo frowned at him in confusion, then looked to Tyson for some sort of explanation. When he only responded with a simple shrug, Leo turned his attention back to Elias. "Uh...yeah. Yeah, it's in the kitchen."

Elias thanked him and turned away from them both, weaving through people until he found himself in the kitchen. Only a few people were in there with him, one of them being Allen, who looked just as uncomfortable as Elias. He was wearing a tee shirt and bow tie, which was the most low effort costume Elias had ever seen. He would have laughed, if he wasn't so hell bent on getting himself drunk so he could handle being here.

"Hey," Allen said, smiling a little, "I didn't know y-you were here."

"Yeah, just got here. Ty's with Leo." As he spoke, he poured himself a shot of tequila, holding his breath so he wouldn't tic and spill it. He threw it back, gagging on the taste, on the memories of August forcing him to take shot after shot of the burning drink because he was more fun when he was drunk, he was told. "What are you supposed to be?" He asked. Allen's eyes were on him as he filled up the shot glass again, then grimaced as he set it down and reached for something to chase it with.

"Oh, I dunno. I've n-never really done this whole Halloween party thing." He shifted his weight, chewing his lip. "What about you?"

Elias didn't answer him, shaking his head. "Can we please go somewhere quiet? This sucks."

Allen laughed, "yeah, it does, huh? Wanna go sm-smoke?" After Elias agreed, Allen took his hand and led him out to the backyard. There were a few other people, but they were dispersed enough that they found a place far away from everyone quickly.

"Tyson hit me today," Elias said suddenly, looking at the ground as he smoked, "I can't even remember why. I just...I just remember I was on the floor and he hit me."

Allen was shocked into silence for a moment, then he took a deep breath and leaned against the wall they were standing at. "Was he mad at you?"

Elias felt on the verge of tears then, couldn't speak over the lump in his throat. "He didn't seem mad, he said he was sorry after. I think he just...I think he just felt like hitting me."

Allen shook his head. "No, Tyson isn't like August. He wouldn't just hit you because he wanted to." When he looked up at Elias, he was surprised to see his cheeks wet with tears and a tight frown on his face. "Hey, it's ok, Elias. It's ok."

"No, it isn't. I'm so fucking exhausted." He dropped his head into his hands and fought the sobs shaking his shoulders. "I can't sleep and I can't eat and I feel like I'm fucking up every little thing-" he froze up when he felt Allen's arms around him, holding him tight. For a second he was stunned into silence, then he really began to cry.

"You're gonna be alright," he was saying, "right now, you're in the hardest part of it, but it's gonna get better." He pulled Elias closer as his weak, broken whimpers shook his small frame. He didn't remember ever being in this much despair, sure, he was confused and scared and hurting, but for the most part he was just relieved that he was safe. How long had Elias been back, a week and a half? When Allen had been back for that long, he was focusing on trying to get his life back together, trying to mend relationships and himself and feel as normal as he could. Elias seemed to be breaking apart over and over again. August must've been so cruel to him.

When Elias slowly stopped crying, he pulled himself out of Allen's grip and took a deep breath. "I um...I'm gonna go get another drink. Thanks for uh, talking to me."

"Yeah, of course. Let me know if you need anything." Allen watched as he stood up and limped back into the house.

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