#letters carved on trees ;; asks

[mahotoai]

What's this? Somehow an infant stegosaurus has made it's way over to a napping Pan! It mistakes his hair for a bush, chewing his locks like they were grass.

Now this was an ancient creature... and yet one so young. He wasn't certain how this little one had gotten here, but he chuckles and gently pets the snout of the Stego. "Now where is your guardian, little one? You shouldn't be wandering on your own."

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

🤍

sooo here is my request! thank you!

Reader is bucky's ex fiancé (40's) and she is like a supersoldier too (she froze with steve and now she is an avenger)

but bucky does not remember her, so she has to deal with watching him dating some agents while she tries to make him remember that part of their life together (maybe with some letters and pics of them)

some angst - hurt / comfort with happy ending! 😭🤍

just bc i love this blog i would like to be "🕷️ anon" 😂

Remember Me » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Ex Fiancée/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Ex Fiancée/Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be engaged in the 1940s, but he doesn’t remember you and you have to deal with him going on dates with other agents so you do everything you can to get him to remember you.

Warnings: mix of Angst and Fluff, language, crying, flashbacks, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also you can be my 🕷️ anon🥰

A/N #2: Italic text is flashbacks. I imagined this as Bucky’s post Winter Soldier phase and the reader is a Super Soldier in this.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found it on Pinterest.

You stood in the doorway of the conference room, patiently waiting for Bucky to stop flirting with an agent so you can get him to sign paperwork from a previous mission. You couldn’t help but feel jealous. You and Bucky were engaged in the 1940s, but it didn’t last long. After a few minutes, Bucky finally noticed you standing in the doorway.

“I’ll see you tonight, doll.” Bucky says to the agent and kissed her cheek.

Hearing Bucky call her doll felt like someone ripped your heart out of chest and crushed it in their bare hands. That’s what he used to call you.

“Can I help you, Agent?” He asks you.

“I need you to sign these papers from your mission last week.” You tell him, handing him the file.

“I’ll get these to you later.” He says.

You nodded and walked out of the conference room. You were about halfway down the hall when you had to lean against the wall and take a moment to yourself. Your back slid down the wall and you sat down on the floor. Your mind began to wander.

“You know I love you, right, doll?” Bucky asks.

“Of course I know that, Bucky.” You say with a smile.

Bucky intertwined his fingers with yours and kissed your lips sweetly.

“Are you ok?” Steve asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yes.” You lied.

You stood up from the floor and walked past Steve. Your walk was cut short when Steve gently grabbed your arm.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He pleads softly.

“You already know what’s wrong.” You said. “I have to live with the fact that my ex fiancée doesn’t remember me at all and I have to deal with him dating other agents.” You say.

“Give him time, Y/N. He’ll remember you.” He says softly.

You gave him a soft smile before walking away.

Later that same day, you were in the gym, punching the punching bag as hard as you could. You were trying to get the thought of Bucky out on a date with that agent. You punched the punching bag one last time before leaving the gym.

You got on the elevator to go to your bedroom. As soon as you got off of the elevator, you seen Bucky kissing that agent. You stood there with a shattered heart. You quickly went to your room before he seen you.

You immediately caught a glimpse of the picture of you and Bucky from the day he proposed to you. You picked up the picture from your nightstand and looked at it, reminiscing that day.

“Where are you taking me, Bucky?” You asked, followed by a giggle.

“You’ll find out in a minute, doll.” Bucky says.

Bucky told you he had a surprise for you and blindfolded you for it. Your walking came to a stop and Bucky let go of you.

“Take the blindfold off.” He says.

You took the blindfold off and gasped. Bucky took you to yours and his favorite tree. Your favorite flowers were surrounding the bottom of it and he carved “Will you marry me?” on the tree with a pocket knife.

“Bucky-” You turned around and gasped.

“What do you say doll?” Bucky was down on one knee with a small velvet box with a beautiful diamond ring in it. “Will you marry me?” He asks.

“Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!” You answered with happy tears streaming down your cheeks.

Bucky smiles widely and stood up. He slid the ring on your ring finger and kissed you passionately.

That memory slowly faded away. You let out a shaky breath and your eyes began to water. You took a deep breath before taking a shower and went to bed.

The next morning, as you were getting dressed you seen something shining on your dresser from the corner of your eye. It was Bucky’s Army dog tags. You picked them up and looked at them. A smile grew on your face when an idea popped into your head. You immediately went to the kitchen, already knowing Bucky was in there.

“Morning, Bucky!” You chirped.

“It’s Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky corrects you.

“What?” You asked, blinking a couple times.

“You called me Bucky. Only friends call me that. Agents call me Sergeant Barnes.” He says.

“Oh…” Your voice sounding sad. “I umm…” You found what you were trying to say. “I just wanted to show you something.” You finally say.

“What is it?” He asks.

You held out your hand, showing him his Army dog tags. Bucky snatched them from your hand, making you flinch a little.

“Why the hell do you have these?” He asks harshly.

“I uhh… Steve gave them to me in 1945 when you di- fell off the train.” You tell him. “He thought that I might want them cause you’re my ex fiancée.” You explained.

“I’m not your ex fiancée.” Bucky’s words cut you deep like a knife. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I sure as hell know that I’m not your ex fiancée.” He says before walking away.

You stood in the middle of kitchen with tears streaming down your face. You hoped that showing Bucky his Army dog tags would spark something in his memory of you, but you guessed wrong.

“Why would you give these to Agent Y/L/N after I fell off the train in 1945?” Bucky asks Steve when he walked in the conference room.

“She’s your ex fiancée. I assumed that’s what you wanted. I was just honoring your wishes.” Steve answered.

“She’s not my ex fiancée! I’ve never been engaged in my life!” Bucky raised his voice. “You’re the second person to say that to me today!” He says.

Bucky walked out of the conference room before Steve could say anything else. He stood up from his seat and went to find you. He found you crying at the kitchen table. He sat down next to you and immediately started comforting you.

“I’m fine, Steve.” You lied, your voice cracking.

“No you’re not.” Steve said. “You have every right to be upset.” He says softly.

You turned towards Steve and laid your head on his shoulder, letting your tears free fall. Steve being the good friend he is, comforted you in the only way he knows.

“He basically said that I’m not his friend and I can’t call him Bucky.” You cried against his shoulder. “It’s like I never existed to him.” You say.

“You’re more than his friend.” He says softly.

“I know that, but he doesn’t.” You say, followed by a sniffle.

Later that day, you kept trying to come with ways to get Bucky to remember you. So far you couldn’t come up with anything. You were sitting in the conference room, filling out paperwork when you got lost in your memories of you and Bucky.

“Bucky!” You squealed as Bucky picked you up from behind and spun you around, making burst into a fit of giggles.

Bucky finally put you down on your feet and turned you around so you were facing him. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately.

The memory was interrupted when Bucky dropped a file on the table in front of you. You looked at the file and then looked at Bucky.

“Steve said to sign these and to get them to him by the end of the day.” Bucky says blandly.

“Will do, Sergeant.” You say.

You watched Bucky walk out of the conference room. You stared at the unopened file for a moment before leaving the room without finishing your paperwork. You went straight to your bedroom to get something. You wanted to try to get Bucky to remember you again.

You went in your closet, going to the back of it. You opened a plastic storage container where you kept all of the letters Bucky wrote you while he was in the Army. You picked them up and immediately went to find Bucky. You found him in the lounge room kissing another agent.

“Sergeant?” Bucky acted like he didn’t hear you. “Sergeant Barnes?” You say louder.

Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes before looking at you. The agent he was kissing walked past you, giving you a small smile.

“Is there something I can do for you, Agent?” Bucky asks.

“I wanted to read these papers.” You say.

You hand him the old letters. Bucky took the letters from your hands and read them, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion when he seen his name signed at the bottom of each letter.

“What are these and why is my name on all of these?” He asks.

“Those are the letters you sent me in the 1940s when you were in the Army.” You tell him.

Bucky continued to read the letters. A hopeful smile grew on your face, but didn’t last long. He stood up and shoved the letters in your hands.

“That’s not me.” He says.

“But-” You got interrupted.

“But nothing. We were never engaged. Stop trying to get me to remember things that never happened.” He says.

You nodded as your eyes began to water. You went back to your room and put the letters back. You were about to close the container when you saw a stuffed puppy Bucky won you at Coney Island on yours and his first date. You took it out of the container and sat on your bed, holding it close to you as the memory of that day appeared in your mind.

You stood next to Bucky and watched him knock down all the bottles with a small ball. You smiled and cheered him on.

“What prize would you like, doll?” Bucky asks you.

You looked at the variety of stuffed animals displayed in front of you. You smiled when you seen a stuffed puppy with a red bow on it.

“That one.” You say, pointing at it.

The worker handed it to you. You took it from him and held it close to you.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say, smiling up at him.

“Anything for my best girl.” He says, kissing you sweetly.

You sadly sighed and laid down with the stuffed puppy in your arms. You didn’t even know you fell asleep, because you woke up to the sound of someone knocking on your bedroom door. You got out of bed and opened the door to see Bucky.

“Can I help you, Sergeant Barnes?” You asked.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asks.

You nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to come in your room. You closed the door behind you and waited for him to say something.

“I just wanted to apologize for the way I’ve been talking to you the past couple days.” He apologizes. “I just don’t understand why you keep saying we were engaged years ago when-” That’s when Bucky seen the picture of you and him on your nightstand. “This is me.” He says, picking up the picture to look at it.

“It’s me and you in 1941.” You tell him. “I have more pictures if you want to see them.” You say.

Bucky nodded. You went in the closet to get the pictures. You opened a photo album, showing him a bunch of pictures of the two of you when you guys were together. He took the photo album from you to get a closer look at them. He looked through the pictures without saying a word. Another hopeful smile grew on your face, hoping that Bucky will remember who you are this time. The smile was short lived when Bucky shoved the photo album in your hands and left your bedroom without saying a word. A sad sigh left your lips and you put away the pictures. You were beginning to think that Bucky was never going to remember you, but you weren’t going to give up that hope.

Bucky was supposed to be getting ready for a date with another agent, but those pictures of you and him together were the only thing on his mind. He sat in the lounge room, trying his best to remember who you are, but nothing rang a bell. His thoughts were interrupted when the agent he’s supposed to go on a date with walked in the room.

“Hi!” The agent chirps. “Are you ready?” She asks.

“Yea, I just-” That’s when his memories of you flowed back in his mind like a broken dam. “Actually no. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.” He says, leaving the room and leaving the agent confused.

Bucky searched around the whole compound for you, but couldn’t find you. He accidentally bumped into Steve without realizing it. Steve walked after him and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“Buck, calm down. What’s wrong?” Steve asks.

“Y/N. Where’s Y/N?” Bucky asks.

“She’s outside.” He tells him. “Why?” He asks.

Bucky didn’t answer Steve’s question. He just ran outside, looking for you. He didn’t have to go far. You were sitting on the bench trying to figure out another way to get Bucky to remember you. He walked over to you and grabbed your arm, pulling you up from the bench and kissed you passionately. You were caught by surprise, but kissed him back. He pulled away from your lips, leaving the two of you breathless.

“I remember.” Bucky tells you. “I remember you.” He says.

“You remember me?” You asked, making sure you heard him right.

“Yes.” He confirms. “Seeing those letters and pictures made me remember everything.” He smiles. “I’m sorry for the way things ended between us. I was just pissed. Please forgive me and give me another chance, doll.” He says apologetically.

Your eyes began to water with happy tears, a couple tears rolled down your cheeks. Hearing Bucky call you doll for the first time in years made you happy.

“Don’t cry, doll.” He wipes your tears away. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes again.

“I can’t help it.” You sniffled. “I just missed you.” You say.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly, not wanting to let go. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him.

“How about we picked up where we left off.” Bucky suggests.

“You still want to marry me?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course I do.” He smiles widely. “You’re my best girl.” He says.

“I don’t have the engagement ring you gave me anymore. I accidentally lost it.” You say, feeling ashamed.

“It’s ok. I’ll buy you another one. In the meantime…” Bucky took his dog tags off and put them around your neck. “You can wear these as an engagement ring.” He says.

You looked down at his dog tags, smiling widely. You looked up at him and cupped his stubbly cheeks. You stood on your tippy toes and kissed him passionately. Bucky’s hands found their way to your waist and pulled you against his body.

“I love you so much, Bucky.” You say against his lips.

“I love you more, doll.” Bucky says softly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[mlyscha]

𝒥𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 & 𝖺 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗌

( ENHYPEN ── 𝒻𝗼𝗿. 𝓜OMENTS. ) ౨ৎ ℐ𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 . . . they make christmas gifts with their own hands (with you). 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 : fluff, festive. 𝓌𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌! simple and resumed writing. ( 𝗐𝖼. 9OO ) 𝓮𝘅𝘁𝗿𝗮' … 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋-𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 ༘ . 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

𝒶-𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲. happy christmas everybody!! enjoy some time with your family, friends and beloved ones. i hope many many good things reach you! and if you don't celebrate christmas, i wish you a great day full of happiness! <3 and by the way, i am on a vacation so this might not be thaaaat good but try to enjoy this christmas headcanon i wrote with so much love.

𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍! ♡ 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾&𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀&𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍.

𝒽eeseung ( 희승 )

YOU AND HEESEUNG WERE PLANNING to do something memorable this christmas, celebrating not just the presents, but love.

therefore, heeseung decided to craft essences with you and then trade perfumes. you had never heard of that kind of craft shop before, but it was pretty amusing.

it was cute watching him all cute listening to the instructions, making sure that your perfume was matching your vibe and how he liked it ─ of course.

in the end of the “class”, he gifted the perfume in a small white box, adorned with a loose pink ribbon─ because he couldn’t tie it right. meanwhile, you gifted his in a small black box adorned with a red ribbon. also, you could write a letter to yourself or your loved one, gifting love to the one you love. with that, he couldn’t hold himself but write: For this and lots more christmas, I love you forever, Heeseung.

𝒿ongseong ( 제이 )

JONGSEONG LOVES PAMPERING YOU WITH gifts, but this christmas, you told him you wanted to create memories: going to a fancy necklace craft shop.

the necklace shop offered crafting silver or gold jewellery that could last for life— meaning that it wasn’t supposed to get oxidised.

there was a plenty of fun ways to create your jewellery. therefore, you and jongseong decided to go for a digital print design with a simple note on the back.

you went for a gold piece because you thought it made your boyfriend’s skin and beauty pop, getting your digital print done and writing: Mine, yours, ours forever. meanwhile he wrote: I love you, thank you, forever— simple but meaningful, for sure.

𝒿aeyun ( 제이크 )

JAEYUN LOVES SPENDING TIME WITH you, and nothing better than gifting him quality time while crafting gifts for each other; for christmas. with that, you brought him to a pottery shop, hoping he would enjoy pottering like the last time— on valentine’s day.

and oh boy, jaeyun liked that. besides him looking at you in a certain way while carving the bottom of the pot with his hands, it was overall very amusing and cute.

in the end, after the pottery was completely dry, a beautiful painting could be created. and of course, jaeyun with his cheesiness problems, painted you and him with a christmas tree on the side, writing: christmas with bae! 12/25. ( y/n is the cutest <3 )

𝓈unghoon ( 성훈 )

SUNGHOON BROUGHT TO A RING crafting shop, because he thought: i want matching rings, ‘cause— pffftt… just one couple ring isn’t enough!

with that, you two went to a fancy ring crafting shop from a luxury jewellery brand. you both went for the silver ring— since it is a dating ring —and then added each others initials in a tiny font (to keep it more discreet and elegant); and then wrote on the side of the hoop the date and a little note: Forever our love, forever us.

and by the way, sunghoon while crafting this ring with you, couldn’t be more excited to one day make this a big surprise, asking you to be his fiancé.

𝓈unoo ( 선우 )

SUNOO IS A SOFTIE FOR handmade things, always writing a letter for you besides the present he is giving to you. and this time, for christmas, he decided to buy a bracelet kit— in which you could create your own bracelet.

you were so excited because it reminded you of your childhood and now you are complementing this memory with your loved one.

after many laughter, smooches and enthusiasm, you both finished and gave it to each other. both of you tried to match each others vibe, and it was successful!

sunoo loved the bracelet you made for him and you absolutely loved what he design for you, focusing on your name formed by the beads he carefully placed one by one. this is the proof christmas is more than presents, but about moments and simplicity.

𝒿ungwon ( 정원 )

JUNGWON REALLY WANTED SOMETHING MEANINGFUL and beautiful to gift for you for christmas.

his idea was lovely: bring you to necklace shop in which they take a very close-upped picture of each other’s iris and turn it into a beautiful memory that can be hanged around your neck.

you found the idea pretty amusing and beautiful once you heard about he’s plans, so he counted your amusement and brought you to the crafting shop— a fancy place, by the way.

you could choose between silver and gold jewellery and you matched his choice. overall, the picture came out really pretty and the necklace is kept around jungwon’s neck forever since; saying he is bringing a piece of you with him everywhere.

𝓇iki ( 니키 )

RIKI WANTED TO GIVE YOU something useful but at the same time meaningful. thinking like that, he decided to personalise a hoodie that at the same time matched his— couple like outfit.

so he took you to this cosy personalisation crafting shop and asked them to personalise a hoodie, describing what he wanted to write and the vision he was going for; letting the shop take it on their own hands to design it.

however, riki precisely asked to be the one painting it— with you, of course.

in the end, the hoodies came out so cute and a memorable moment was created. the design matched christmas and each other, but at the same time it looked kind of romantic and soft.

and of course, can’t forget about a specific part of the design in which his hoodie says: I love christmas. and yours said: I am christmas!

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, ��𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆ 24.

[liillyliilly]

Status: Infatuated

kageyama tobio x reader words; 1189 synopsis; The tree at the end of your street had your initials in it, it had Kageyama’s initials in it. It was the best tree ever. It really is as simple as that. dorks in love is the best trope

Promises are meant to be kept. Promises are meant to be engraved into stone and hailed as pure scripture. And that’s exactly how Kageyama treated them.

Which is why the tree that he had engraved both of your initials into was so important for him. The mere thought of that tree possibly getting torn down was agonizing. The tree on the end of his street had been planted sometime when he had turned the ripe age of four years old.

He had always tapped the top of the tree when his grandfather took his six-year-old self to the park. He had begun to sit under the tree and flip through his comic books at age eight. He had practiced lightly tossing a volleyball by hitting it against the trunk when he was ten. He had climbed all of its branches by the time he was thirteen. And of course, he had carefully whittled his initials and yours as well, into the truck when he had first started crushing on you when he was fifteen.

“Tobio, wait just a second.” You asked, wiping the sweat from your brow and taking a sip of the strawberry lemonade Kageyama’s mom had made for you. “It’s too hot outside.”

“I know it’s hot, but please, just let me show you what I've been wanting to show you.” Kageyama grinned, fiddling with the pocket knife in his hand. It was made of a sleek oak wood, and had an iron blade that he had sharpened just barely for a camping trip the two of you were planning.

“Kageyama Y/n. Pick up your pace, let’s go.” He called out, before walking over to you and then pulling your hand to a tall tree. He put a hand on the trunk, just letting the rippled wood roughly brush against his palm. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

“A tree Tobio, you wanted to show me a tree?” Sipping on the last of your lemonade, tucking the glass water bottle into your backpack.

“A very important tree, mind you.” Kageyama cleared his throat. Before handing you the knife and then smiling widely.

“What do you want me to do?” You let the weight of the tool be held in your hand, the cool oak warming up in your hand.

“Carve your initials in the tree.” He said, patting the spot where he wanted you to put them. “Including the one I gave you.” He added with a rush of urgency.

“Of course, I was going to write your last name. It’s my last name now.” You rolled your eyes before poking him in the chest with the hand that wasn’t holding the pocket knife.

Kageyama let the simple joy of you having his last name soak into his entire body. The knowledge that you two were going to be together forever sinking into his skin and warming him up differently than the sun ever could.

Silently, with only the sound of the wood being slowly chipped away you engraved your initials. After, you took a step back and blew the remnants away. Kageyama immediately took the knife from your hand and wrote his own initials underneath yours. Adding a little plus sign between the letters and then drawing a heart around it.

Smiling wildly, Kageyama looked at you and then turned his head back to the drawing on the tree. “Okay, now let me show you the other thing.”

“I swear, if it’s another-” You paused. Freezing up as Kageyama pulled you around to show you an older engraving. Of your initials before you married him, along with his in a similar design to the other one. “When did you do this?” You lightly traced the indented wood.

“In the first year of high school.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his head as he looked away from you in a slight sheepish manner.

“That long ago?”

“I fell fast and I fell hard for you. The only person to ever completely take me off my feet.” Kageyama tugged on your hand and swung it back and forth as the pair of you looked on at the carving. “I think for a while there, when I was fifteen, I was completely overwhelmed with how I felt about you.”

You didn’t have any words. Nothing seemed to match up to what he was telling you.

“I love you.” You pressed your lips onto his shoulder and rubbed your nose in the crook of his neck. Tickling him lightly so he let out a small chuckle. Memories of the little set up the second and third years pulled for him and you were faded, but still clear enough for him to remember. Like a vintage photo that had a vignette around the edges.

“Kageyama Tobio. Age fifteen, status: completely in love with that one first year who studies with Yachi.” Sugawara stated, handing out clipboards to everyone in the clubroom. Asahi flipped through the pages and raised his hand but Daichi put Asahi’s down , shaking his head slowly as he looked to the ground.

“Their name is L/n. L/n Y/n.” Kageyama clarified, sipping on a small carton of banana milk, seeing as the vending machine had run out of his usual two percent milk.

“Fine, updated status: entirely and utterly obsessed and infatuated with L/n Y/n.” Sugawara made everyone cross off the printed status and rewrite the new one on top of the old.

Sugawara’s updated status still rang true, even ten years later. Kageyama still cringes at how much effort Sugawara put towards figuring out your schedule to plan ‘accidental bumping into each other’ moments, or going as far as making Yachi drag you to practice so you could study. Hoping that when you took a break you would look up and see Kageyama in his natural element of setting volleyballs to everyone, displaying ‘great teamwork skills’ as Suga had so bluntly described it as.

Somehow, Kageyama didn’t actually have to ask you out. You did that all by yourself, only after you had seen Kageyama muttering to himself about the ‘stupid’ plan to get you to fall in love with him. If you hadn’t asked him out, then it was likely that he never would have worked up enough confidence to ask you out himself.

But luckily for him, you had liked him for just as long as he had liked you. Except, not quite as obviously as he had made his feelings for you. You still remember all the times he gave you volleyball keychains, despite not being in the club. All the keychains had been moved to your various bags and purses as you grew up. You still remember all the times he asked if you would help him with math, he was a lost cause but at least he got to see you up close working on an example problem for him to observe.

The tree at the end of your street had your initials in it, it had Kageyama’s initials in it. It was the best tree ever. It really is as simple as that.

[phan3145]

Title: Slippery Slope. Fandom: Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Blood, Intensity…Implications) Pairing: Eventual Noa x Human!Reader.

***Note: Guys…I literally have no idea why I went this hard with this chapter, it’s 8K+ and not even that integral to the plot, but every time I wanted to cut something I simply couldn’t. I’m posting this so quick and then going to bed. 🙈 As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged!

Chapter 5: Evolution

You

Waiting for the apes to tie up their horses was the longest couple of minutes of your life. You practically launched yourself up the steps two at a time. They had to run to keep up with you as you pushed through the double doors, feet echoing off the tile floor. This place was massive! You searched for some indication of where to go, spinning in a circle as you took it all in. The ivy and growing trees did nothing to diminish the beauty of the architecture, the dome above you holding a replica globe of the Earth taking the breath from your lungs. While the power no longer worked, the tile mural surrounding it still held an ancient grace to it as well. What must it have been like to see it bright and new?

Most of the color had faded, but the blue was still prevalent, reminding you of the night sky before the last sliver of light disappeared and turned it black. The rich sea color faded into the white stone of the building, and squinting, you could almost make out the sculptures carved into the walls. Probably Greek inspired…or maybe something else more ancient. It was all too faded to tell.

A noise behind you drew your attention from the ceiling, to your companions. Soona had dropped her sling, her expression matching Anaya and Noa’s as they took in the same grandeur that you had. You let them have that moment, padding over to what you imagined was the main desk. You shifted through decaying papers and old technology that no longer worked, looking for some sort of directory or map.

“Noa…reminds me of…light tunnel,” you heard Soona say. “Echos…made this too?”

You heard Noa grunt, taking a few steps before addressing you, “What is…this…Library?”

You didn’t look up, responding as you shuffled more things about, “It holds the mind and memory of humanity in it. Everything humans know about love, nature, science, math, religion, language, and history is in this building.”

You thought for a moment you had found it, a piece of color coated laminated paper within a folder, but it only showed where emergency exits were in case of a fire. Anaya took that time to chime in, “ Only know…three of those words.”

“That is why we are here.” Noa said, “Caesar understood…human things that…we do not…how do we learn?”

You figured that last bit was directed at you, explaining, “It’s written down in all the books here, thousands of years of information. Everything that is and ever was…excluding the fall of humanity of course. It’s not like we need that though, we already know how that happened.”

“We do?” Noa asked.

You stopped then, “You know who Caesar is, so you know how he was involved with the fall of humanity.”

“In..volved?” Noa looked skeptical.

“Well, yeah. If it wasn’t for…” you trailed off. Your eyes locked on to an old board hanging from an upper level, three giant letters on it that you recognized. Three letters that were exactly what you were looking for. “We can compare notes some other time, come this way.”

Old escalators that no longer worked took you up a level to where a long forgotten map was. You took the hem of your shirt and wiped the dirt and grime from it, barely able to make out the colors, let alone the words. Somehow, eyes straining from the effort, you managed to make out key letters. You knew where you were going after this. All you needed to know now was what Noa, Anaya, and Soona wanted.

You turned to them then, “This is it. What do you want to know? I’ll tell you where it is.”

The three shared a look, remaining so quiet you wondered if taking charge of their Caesar Journey had upset them. Anaya made to sign, but Noa stopped him with a hand over his. He began to sign instead, but they were gestures you didn’t recognize. You hadn’t learned a lot of sign, but you were picking up on certain gestures and had learned enough to usually understand what the apes were talking about. Noa knew this. It was deliberate, Noa silencing Anaya. The thought caused something in your stomach to plummet. Soona’s mouth opened then, as if sensing your sudden mood shift, gaze locking with yours, but a quick glance to Noa’s hands had her mouth shutting again.

You took a step away from the map then, hand still resting on the surface as a sort of tether. The space was needed though, no matter how small, between yourself and the trio. You were cruelly reminded then, that no matter what, at the end of the day, you are not an ape. They are not humans. You trusted them not to hurt you, and they trusted you to a point, but their full trust would probably never be earned. You are not an ape…you are an echo of a bygone era.

An Echo…and how they never let you forget it. You felt your jaw tighten, teeth clenched as you looked back down at the map in front of you. A month…only a month. A drop in the bucket compared to how long you’ve been alive, and look how quickly you forgot what their kind had taken from you. Look how comfortable you had become with them. Look how much you came to care for each of them…and trust them. Was it mutual though? Their continued silence screamed no.

“Symbols…in books?” Anaya asked.

You scrunched your eyebrows, “Do you mean letters?”

Soona leaned forward, head slightly bowed as she confessed, “We are not sure….do not understand human…markings.”

“Wait, Noa you said…” you stopped yourself, frustration pushed to the wayside for now. Playing back the conversation in your head from your first meeting, you thought it was only Noa who couldn’t read, but apes in general could. You assumed since he knew what books were at all, that his village could read. Noa never brought it up again, and after finding out he was the leader of the Eagle Clan, you figured he just didn’t have the time to learn. That wasn’t the case it seemed, as you confirmed, “Apes can’t read at all, can they?”

“No,” Noa admitted, the word sounding as if it was forcibly pulled from his mouth.

One word, but the impact was massive. They were showing you and somewhat teaching you sign, but none of them could read. You brought them into a building of power, but that power only belonged to you in this instance. You thought the balance was always disproportionate between the apes and yourself, and it had been…just not in the way you expected. Guilt threatened to choke you now, as you reevaluated what their silence and secrecy had meant. If you were who you were months ago, you would let them stew in their own ignorance, but as it stood now? You knew better.

You let out a sigh, eyes wandering back to the map for a moment, “I have a feeling we’ll be visiting here often. For now, follow me.”

“Where?” Noa questioned, the three apes not hesitating to follow you as you began to move.

You went around the escalator, seeing across the way that what you needed was laid out in faded colors and deteriorating furniture. “To the only section that’s going to matter for the foreseeable future.”

Knuckles gently nudged your shoulder, so soft you almost didn’t feel it. You turned, it was Anaya, “Symbols…not letters?”

You hesitated, trying to think how best to explain, “Symbols can be both letters and pictures. Pictures are drawings. See a symbol is…anything that has meaning behind it. Think of…that pendant of yours you keep tied around your shoulder sling for Caesar. That’s a symbol.”

“How?” Noa challenged, looking more confused.

“So, it’s basic design is a diamond within a circle.” You began, stopping at a book shelf, drawing said symbol in the dust. Off to the side, a book cover labeled Learning Your ABC’s caught your attention. “Nothing about that particularly resembles anything to do with apes or ape culture, right?”

There were nods all around, Noa adding, “It became a symbol for the order of Caesar.”

“Right!” You smiled, “But someone first had to give it that meaning. Before Caesar, if someone drew that symbol what would it have meant?”

Confused stares followed your question, maybe that was too philosophical for them. Of course, as you thought that, Soona chimed in, “Would mean…nothing without Caesar…just shapes…the shapes meant something…important to him.”

“Exactly,” you picked up the book that had originally caught your attention, opening it up to a random page. L is for Lion stared back at you as you turned the book to show them. “These symbols have meaning, both the letter and the picture. This is the letter L, and this is an animal we called a lion. It starts with the letter L, this is how we taught children to understand it and make the connection.”

Anaya pushed his finger onto the page, moving across it as he asked, “What about the other letters?”

“It takes more than one letter to make up a word…usually anyway. This book is just meant to help children memorize the twenty-six letters and the sounds they make. The pictures will help them remember and associate the sound with the letter and the word.”

Noa seemed to look around then, taking in where they were standing. His brow furrowed, “This is for children…will not learn about…Caesar from this.”

“You’re right.” You countered, “You will learn how to read though, and then you can learn about humanity as Caesar knew it.”

“Noa…” Soona brushed his arm. He turned to her, “This is…better…Caesar could read…so we should…too.”

Anaya, ever easily distracted, wandered over to a table where a few forgotten books covered in dust remained. He called over his shoulder, “Want to learn…know what our Echo knows…seems easy enough…if Echo children can understand…then should be no problem…for clever ape.”

Noa’s jaw rotated, an agitated huff leaving him. Anaya had picked up a book from the table, turning random pages. He looked to Noa then, who was looking at him in what you could only describe as malice. It wasn’t a look you had ever seen on Noa’s face before, and it was aimed at Anaya, which surprised you even more. Anaya hooted, closing his book and pacing back over to the group.

A nerve had been struck, clearly, but you couldn’t tell what it was. Unless, it was the taunt of it being easy in general. As soon as it appeared Noa quickly let it go, relaxing his body with a hum, turning back to you. “You would…be able to…teach us?”

You nodded once, “Yes.”

“Why?” Soona asked, the question seeming to surprise even her once it left her mouth.

It was a good question though. Why did you do half the things you did for these apes? Why did you decide to trust them? Why did you spend your days with them? All questions came back to the same answer, “I care about you, all three of you. Understanding Caesar is important to you, and if learning how to read will help you better understand Caesar, then teaching you is important to me.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence and hesitation, then Soona reached out. Her hand clasped your shoulder. You smiled, stiffening slightly when she pulled your towards her, leaning her head forward and touching it to yours. You weren’t expecting it, still surprised by the gesture in general. The sentiment was there though.

Anaya reached over Noa to nudge Soona then, “Do not touch…Echo Soona…told does not like.”

You laughed, Soona letting out something similar to a groan as she swiveled her head away from you to look at Anaya, “That…was different.”

“Different how?” Anaya demanded, puffing his cheeks.

Noa and I seemed caught in the middle, catching each others eyes before both glancing to Soona, “Because I…am not you…Anaya.”

Anaya opened his mouth comically wide, gasping dramatically before pointing a finger at Soona, “Not fair!”

Soona and Noa both let out loud hoots, Anaya chiming in a moment later with a disgruntled screech or two of his own. Your laugh blended with theirs, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed this much in your life before meeting the trio. Maybe things just seemed funnier when you had others around you to laugh with. You had to gasp in a breath by the end of your laughter. Soona and Anaya were making faces at each other now, but Noa was gazing at you. Staring more like, eyes trained on your mouth, then shifting to your eyes. His, seemed to be holding a question.

You cleared your throat, not giving him time to voice it. “I’m going to look for a few basic books on learning the alphabet. Normally, I would say don’t judge a book by its cover, but in this case, look around. Each of you pick two or three books for us to take back with us, whatever catches your eye.”

Anaya still had that one book in his hand. He clutched it to his chest, going down on three of his limbs to be more level with the shelves. He began to look and scan for a few more. Soona wandered down the rows, picking a book and scanning through its pages before putting it back. You supposed she was making her decision based on the pictures she saw. That was a way to do it.

That’s when you noticed that Noa hadn’t moved. That question still remained in his eyes, and it twisted something in your stomach. You couldn’t face him. You turned, crouching down to scan the shelf you found the Learning Your ABC’s on, hoping to find similar books in the same area. You could feel him at your back, his eyes burning that familiar hole into you. At this point, you would think you would have built up an immunity to it, but with Noa… you were afraid you would always be affected. He shuffled around you then, coming to rest in the peripheral vision of your right side. His back was to Anaya and Soona, his sheer size blocking you from their view and vice versa.

You tried to keep your eyes on the titles, but they were blurring together as you tried not to squirm under his gaze. A long sigh through his nose, then, “I am…sorry.”

That caught you off guard, nearly giving yourself whiplash as you turned to look up at him. “What? Why? What for?”

He crouched then to be level with you, “For not sharing…the truth with you…I did not lie…but I hid it from you…saw what that did to you.”

“What do you mean?” You asked. “You saw what?”

Noa placed a hand on his chest, “Inside…you were…hurt…when I stopped Anaya…signed things you did not understand.”

“You can’t see what I’m feeling on the inside.” You snapped, turning back to the books, refusing to look at him. To hear him confirm what you thought at the time, somehow did not make it better. The fact that he recognized your hurt made his apology almost seem hollow.

“You are…right.” Noa hesitated, “But I can…see it in your eyes…and when you cackle…you said…can also be from relief…tears in your eyes…and relief from hurt…hurt that I caused…from keeping secrets.”

Your jaw clenched as you pulled another book from the shelf, flipping through it to find a few exercises. You hated how even when Noa was wrong, what he said was somehow right. You hated that he could read you so well, as if he’d known you your entire life. You tried not to let your anger spiral, a tinge of bitterness creeping into you voice as you replied, “You are not obligated to tell me anything, Noa. You certainly don’t owe me an apology for telling apes things you think an Echo wouldn’t like or understand.”

“I tell you…now,” He countered. “Told them…that I had mislead you…about ape knowledge…that Caesar Journey could not…happen without you…the truth…you know more than we do…needed you here with us…could not learn…without you.”

You tilted your head at the books in front of you, fighting the urge to turn, “There was a lot more signing than just that.”

“Told them…it was your choice,” Noa continued. “We speak truth…and if you decide not to…help us…that was your choice…but it does not change…us.”

“Us?” You questioned.

Noa said your name then.

The suddenness, and the softness of it almost took you out of your body. He did not often call you by your name, for whatever reason. You couldn’t help it then, even if you wanted to, you felt yourself shift, slowly turning to face Noa. He looked ashamed, mouth downturned and shoulders hunched in more than usual. His eyes, pleading a thousand different things, searched yours. He said it again.

“You…and Soona…and Anaya…and me…us.” The anger in your heart cooled as Noa continued, “Will not change…ever…because you do not want…to do something we ask…not how this…works…you are free…make decisions about…your life…ape not interfere.”

You hadn’t even realized that was a true fear of yours. Deep down, along with never having their full trust, you had to admit that a quiet part of you also whispered things like that. How dangerous it could be for you if you ever refused one of them. Everyone gets along as long as everyone is happy, right? But…a disagreement, an argument, a demand? What would happen then if you said no?

The fact Noa had even thought about that, showed how much he was aware of the dynamics between you and the apes. More so than you, or rather, more willing to think about it in reality instead of pretending it didn’t exist. Something about that touched you. Noa was always being considerate of you, and your feelings. Having him as a friend, was altering not only your life, but your perception on apes. If more were like him…you let the thought die. Noa was Noa, there would never be another ape like him.

“Though it wasn’t the best time to say that,” you started softly. “Thank you, for caring about my feelings, about my freedom. I’m sure that Anaya and Soona appreciated the truth too. I trust that what you’re telling me now is the truth.”

“It is,” Noa replied, a tinge of desperation to his voice.

You smiled then, bringing a tentative hand up to cup his shoulder, “Then don’t worry about it anymore. All is forgiven.”

He huffed in relief, hand coming up to mirror yours, clasping onto your shoulder. His grip, shifting back and forth, rocked you slightly with it, “I am glad.”

You felt a traitorous smile creep up before you let go of him, shrugging his hand off your shoulder as you moved to your feet. You didn’t miss the surprise or slight hurt in his eyes as his hand fell from you. You were still a little too raw for his touch though, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You had forgiven him, and it was water under the bridge, but in the back of your mind you still wondered when something like this would happen again. You couldn’t blame him now for things that might happen in the future, so space was what you needed now. You needed to ground yourself and refocus on the task at hand.

Noa stood, looking down at you still. You grabbed two more books at the shelf, stacking them and holding them by your side. You tried in some small way to apologize for shying away from his touch, playfully pushing against his arm, “I think I have everything I need for now, go find your books before Anaya and Soona take all of the good ones. I need to make sure no one has two of the same before we leave.”

Noa nodded, grunting, “Will be dusk…by the time we return.”

You shrugged, “Good thing I’m not the one guiding the horse then.”

He chuffed at that, beginning a slow pace away from you, looking as if he wanted to say more but did not. Soona passed him as he walked away, coming over to you with three books in her hands. She laid them down on the shelf in front of you for your inspection, and you smiled down at the familiar titles your mother had read copies of to you as a child.

Goodnight Moon was a classic of course, and was top to bottom covered in illustrations. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too boring for her. Then again, though she was an adult ape, to your knowledge, she also had never read anything before. You couldn’t imagine she would complain this early on. Then your eyes landed on The Giving Tree. You felt a pang in your heart, having mixed feelings about the story now as an adult. It was a bittersweet story when you didn’t look at it through the eyes of a child.

Your brows furrowed as your eyes skimmed over the third book. You picked it up, reading allowed, “Stellaluna…I’ve never heard of this one before.”

There was a picture of a bat clinging to the branch of a tree, in what looked to be autumn. The illustration was beautiful, the bat looking so lifelike. You went to open the book but Soona stopped you, gently taking it from your grasp and holding it tightly, “We read…together.”

You were confused by her actions, but decided if she felt so strongly on the matter that you should respect her wishes. You smiled, “Okay, that’s fine with me. You picked really good ones, I remember the other two from my childhood. They are simple, but I think you’ll enjoy them.”

Soona nodded, “Pictures…tell a lot about…the story…I think.”

You snickered, “Well, enjoy them while you can. Books that were written for adult humans, things that Noa will probably be interested it, won’t have pictures in them.”

Soona looked crestfallen for a moment before both of you startled. Anaya, who was on the other side of the shelf, had rather roughly dropped his books next to Soona’s. He tapped them three times with his knuckles, gesturing to himself then to you, “Anaya’s books…good for learning?”

You saw the cover of the first one, another smile threatening to split your face in half. Green Eggs and Ham was very repetitive, and you were sure Anaya was either going to love it or hate it. You moved it aside, humming in approval to see The Rainbow Fish, which didn’t really surprise you. While Soona seemed to focus on books where pictures also told the story, Anaya seemed focused primarily on bright colors and designs on the covers. Still, you had to admit that the moral behind the story was a sweet one. It would be good for him.

You moved that one to the side to reveal his final pick. Unlike with Soona’s, you knew this one. It still made you pause. You locked every muscle in your body, fighting back laughter as If You Give a Mouse a Cookie stared back at you. You weren’t sure why it struck you as funny, and you didn’t want to laugh at Anaya’s choice, especially when you couldn’t explain why to him. You swallowed down the laughter, feeling your lungs burn from the lack of oxygen as you held your breath.

Anaya, more observant than you gave him credit for, let his expression fall, mouth hanging open slightly as he asked, “Bad?…Bad book?…Echo is quiet…why is Echo quiet?”

You took in a large breath of air through your mouth, “No Anaya, it’s not a bad book. It’s actually a very sweet book, sort of funny too. It reminds me of you actually. This is the book for you.”

Anaya seemed confused but relieved, snatching his books back from the table and holding them close to his chest, as if someone would try to take them from him. That did have you chuckling, looking behind Soona but not seeing Noa is the rows and shelves of books. You turned left, facing Anaya and looking over his shoulder. The ape mirrored you, looking behind him before turning back to you.

“Echo…looking for…what?” Anaya asked.

“Where’s Noa?” You wondered aloud before a light brush of your shoulder had you jumping out of your skin. You gasped in a breath, turning to find Noa behind you, “You scared me, when did you even walk behind me?”

“When you were…trying not to cackle.” Noa answered cheekily. Said playfulness disappeared as quickly as it arrived though, replaced with an anxious expression.

He raised the three books in his hands to you. You took them carefully, knowing right away Noa’s choices were not as simple as Soona’s or Anaya’s. On top of that, you only knew one of them, not sure how the other two would fair. Peter and the Wolf was a story you heard growing up as a child, a cautionary tale about being smart but also being able to be brave in the face of danger. It was a bit of a longer read, but still doable with illustrations to help set the story. The other two struck you as odd. One was The Mitten, and it was short enough, but just by looking at the cover you weren’t sure what it was about. You hoped nothing gruesome.

The final book, while being slightly illustrated, was not a beginner book. And the title alone…you had to crack open the book to make sure it was in English. It was, but still the title intrigued you, “Rikki Tikki Tavi…what on Earth? I’ve never heard of this one, and where did you even find it?”

Noa gestured to a reading table behind him where many books were spread out across it. You bit the inside of your mouth, knowing it was not meant to be in this section, but was probably placed there so long ago, it’s reader thinking they would be right back. You didn’t want to insult him, but you also knew he would have to work his way up to this one.

You sighed, “The other two are fine but this one, well…it’s not for beginners Noa. You’ll have to learn a lot before you read this one. If you want to pick another one you can, we can wait.”

He huffed, “No…take now…will learn to read it.”

There was a moment of warring wills before you decided, for whatever reason, he was not going to budge. You shrugged a shoulder, “Alright, the three of you will eventually swap stories before we come back anyway. We’ll make…Rikki Tikki Tavi our goal. Such a weird name.”

“Sounds fun…to say.” Anaya chimed in.

You chuckled, “Always a bright side with you, Anaya. If that’s everything, let’s grab the books and head out. Are we stopping anywhere else?”

This was directed at Noa, who took not only his books, but scooped yours up as well. You started to protest but he argued, “You must…mount first…we are heading home now.”

You stretched your arms, rolling your shoulders as you imagined the ride back. Then, you remembered the jump and you cringed at the thought of how often it would be happening in the future. What had you gotten yourself into?

That’s when you remembered, “When we get back you can leave your books with me, they’ll probably be safer that way.”

Noa and Soona nodded, but Anaya hesitated. He shuffled, asking, “Why not safe…with Anaya?”

You tilted your head slightly, eyebrows drawing together, “The books are fragile, made from paper. Getting them wet or dirty would mean they would fall apart. My shelter is pretty water proof, so…”

Now it was your turn to hesitate. You weren’t sure what their sleeping arrangements were like. You had assumed a few crude huts at most. Apes in the past usually used man-made structures that already existed as their nest, and the ones who didn’t chose caves or huts made from tree branches. Then, there were a few you came across that slept in trees. You figured, since there were no cities nearby in the first place, they probably slept in trees or huts, only now realizing how wrong you might be. You had never seen their village.

Noa, sensing your struggle, came to your rescue, “Echo is right…safer with her…other apes…will not understand…Echo books.”

“I promise to keep them safe, Anaya.” You said.

He looked reluctant, but nodded in the end. With that, the four of you headed out. Soona and Anaya tucked their books into their packs along their horses’ backs, starting to untie their reigns while Noa followed suit. You took this time to put a foot in the stirrup and practically throw your weight up and over, wanting to make the attempt while Noa was distracted. You let out a breath, thankful it only took you one try, and this time you didn’t need Noa’s help.

You turned, noticing the grin on Noa’s face as he tightened the strap on the pack to secure it. Your spear was still there, resting above the satchel, tied nicely but loosely should you need it. You felt the horse underneath you shuffle, whipping its tail in Noa’s face, and you had to laugh to yourself. With three apes, you probably didn’t need to bring a spear with you. Maybe next time you’ll just bring a small knife, or even forgo the weapon all together. After all, with three apes and as many horses at your side, you were more than confident you could protect each other. And, less weight for the horse to carry.

Said horse shuffled again, still tied to the post. You naturally grabbed the mane, feeling it trot in place. It’s jerking movements steadily progressing, until it was almost full blown bucking. Then, you noticed it wasn’t just yours, hearing a whinny from Soona’s horse. Anaya’s horse reared up on its back hooves, with Anaya holding on for dear life. You called Noa’s name, who was attempting to soothe his horse, looking to Anaya and Soona for an answer of what was happening.

Something was definitely wrong.

Soona stood up in her stirrups, one hand still on the neck of her horse in a comforting gesture. She scanned the area, sniffing loudly before her eyes widened, lowering herself and turning towards us, “Need to leave…Noa need to leave…now.”

Anaya’s head jerked in the direction of something behind you, screeching out, “Noa move!”

You had just enough time to turn to see a large, black mass charge towards Noa. He leapt off the ground, using the horse as leverage. He landed on the concrete steps of the library, somewhat off kilter. Ready to move again, stopped only by his horse rearing up again, Noa tried his best to assess the situation. Soona’s and Anaya’s horses followed suit, bucking and stomping their feet at the mass beneath them.

A boar.

You heard the squeal and grunts before you saw it’s next charge, the boar moving faster than you thought possible for something that size. It took everything in you to stay in the saddle, hearing Anaya hiss at the animal as Soona prepped her sling. It wouldn’t do her much good you realized, your eyes landing on the spear just an arms length away.

“Soona…Anaya…ride!” Noa yelled, attempting to free his horse while avoiding its wild bucking and the boar’s charging.

You noticed the triangular path it made, attempting to maul anything that wouldn’t kick it, or would hold still long enough. A damaged horse leg meant death for the animal, some distant memory whispered in your brain. The fact the tusks of the boar hadn’t found any soft flesh yet was a miracle. Soona took off immediately, Anaya’s horse attempting a few more stomps before it too took off down the road.

The boar attempted to give chase, just long enough for Noa to finally release the reigns from the post. The next second felt like a minute as you realized how far away you were from the jump of the barricade. You weren’t sure how long these horses could run, knowing they were used to walking long distances. Boars could chase down their enemies for long distances, like apes they were also territorial. Of course, between now and reaching the barricade, if one of the horses was injured…

Your hand was on your spear before you could blink, your feet kicking the horse beneath you into an immediate gallop. Noa’s snarl and subsequent screech would probably haunt you in the afterlife if there was one. You couldn’t look back, hearing him scream, “What are you doing…Stop!”

You couldn’t, the boar already heading straight for you and your horse. You gripped the spear tightly, reminding yourself that humans used to be the dominant species. Humans road horses long before apes did. You also tried to remind yourself what Noa had taught you about riding at a run. Still, your left hand gripped the spear in a firm hold, your right hand winding the horses mane around it like you had as a child. You silently apologized to the horse, letting the reigns rest on the pommel as you prepared for the fight.

The first pass of the boar was uneventful, your horse easily dodging, and you weren’t ready to use your spear just yet, testing the distance. Noa, originally safe on the steps of the library, tried making his way to you by leaping from perch to perch of buildings and old cars. You were relieved that he knew to avoid the ground. A quick turn had you circling the boar, trying to keep the distance close to avoid a charge, but far enough away it couldn’t outright attack.

It lunged, but you were ready, landing a hit to its right shoulder. Blood coated the tip of your spear now, but the blow didn’t so much as make the boar stumble. It followed through on its lunge, but thankfully a kick to its jaw from the back hoof of your horse forced it away. It still stood though, head shaking as it put distance between itself and you. You swallowed, eyes darting towards your horses legs just long enough to see there was no damage.

You heard Anaya and Soona approach tentatively, ready to flank the animal if need be. They didn’t seem to move forward though, allowing you the chance to take it down or scare it off yourself. You were grateful for the confidence, your stomach wanting to rebel against you as the boar charged again. You jabbed lower, more harshly this time to penetrate the fat of its side, close to its underbelly. This time, it ran away from you naturally. Noa’s horse, who seemed to understand now what was happening, was already circling the animal as you had done before.

Avoid charging distance.

You almost felt bad for the creature, blood dripping from its mouth as it started to incessantly charge and run at your horse. Still, you avoided each strike, Noa’s horse skillfully trotting from place to place as you tried to hit a major organ or muscle that would bring the beast down. Strike after strike, and still nothing, just flesh wounds. You decided your strategy needed to change. Your horse would tire eventually, and the cruelty of repeated strikes wounded something in your soul. The boar wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t leave, so you needed to end it.

You had an idea, but if it failed you were probably as good at dead. You noticed Noa keeping time with your movements while also keeping his distance as Soona and Anaya were. If it did fail, there was a small chance they could get to you in time. With that small hope, you unwound the horses mane from your wrist, gripping the reigns instead, turning the horse from the boar’s next charge and running it in the opposite direction. This seemed to confuse all parties present.

The boar, of course, did what you knew it would. It gave chase, charging relentlessly for your horse’s legs. You allowed it to chase, turning your horse around again to stab once more as you had been doing. Another wound, but still it stood. You weren’t striking hard enough, deep enough. You were too weak, too far away. You sent your horse galloping again, headed straight for Anaya and Soona. Their faces didn’t seem to understand what your plan was, but a quick glance at Noa showed you he had some idea what you were up to.

Your right leg was out of the stirrup, your hips screaming as you kept them wide enough to keep your seat, but bent your knee and tucked your leg as close to your body as possible. Your foot braced underneath you as much as it could, and you tested your weight on your left foot in the stirrup. It was solid. You held it there, turning to see the boar gaining once more.

That’s when your right hand released the reigns, both hands gripping your spear as you did the quickest maneuver of your life. You inverted your stance, left heel in the stirrup now as your toes pointed outwards, standing on said foot, your right leg swung over then in a phantom dismount. The momentum on your left side felt like you had been bucked off the horse, sending you straight for the boar. The tip of your spear was aimed for the center of the boars head, where snout met skull, right between its eyes.

The force of you leap from the saddle had been enough to carry you directly into it, feeling the spear slice through flesh and bone. You allowed yourself to launch forward in a type of pole vault past the boar as it dropped, releasing your spear. The last thing you wanted was to get trapped underneath the animal, whether or not your stunt had been enough to kill it. You hit the ground, nothing close to gently. You bounced and rolled a few feet, hearing fabric rip and your bones shake. You felt the burning of your palms against the asphalt as you made a single attempt to stop yourself before you willed your body into a limp state.

When you finally stopped moving, you felt sore all over. You wondered briefly if anything was broken, but a quick flex of your arm and leg muscles confirmed that it was just soreness. You couldn’t hear anything other than a slight ring at first, senses coming back to you slowly. How long had you been on the ground? You raised your head, the muzzle of Noa’s horse the first thing you saw. The sound of snuffling faintly reached your ears, the hairs on the top of your head moving from the force of the horse’s breath. You reached up, patting its nose with the tips of your fingers before laboriously lifting yourself up into a kneeling position. You kept your bleeding hands clutched into your lap, palms pressed into the material of your pants.

That’s when everything came into view.

The boar was still on the ground, your spear still protruding from its head. Soona and Anaya were heading towards it, their eyes locked on you though. Noa’s horse had moved to your left, out of your line of sight now. It was standing behind you as you looked to where Noa had been. He wasn’t there now, he was…suddenly beside you. He called your name again, the marvel of hearing it three times in one day had a small spark of joy shoot through you.

You tried to focus on what he said, but everything was coming in too fast for you to process. You could see Anaya grab the spear from the boar’s head as they rode towards you. Noa gripped your chin in his hand, turning your head towards him. His face came so close to yours, but you couldn’t back up, his grip iron. He sniffed loudly, his other hand smoothing around your head and digging into your hair.

He looked confused, but you couldn’t figure out why. He pulled at the edges of your shirt and your jacket around your neck, hands trailing down your arms then. He moved on to your back, leaning you forward with that same hand grasping your chin. His other hand roamed the expanse of your spine, swiping up the hair at the back of your neck. You felt his hand move again before stilling, unable to disguise the clear look of shock on his face. When his hand came back into view he was holding the entire backing of your jacket. The frayed ends and shredded middle clued you in to what that ripping noise had been. It basically saved your back from looking like your hands.

Soona and Anaya dismounted then, Anaya carrying your spear as they approached carefully, both sniffing the air. Soona said something you couldn’t hear, head foggy but starting to clear up the longer you sat there. Looking around them to the animal at their backs, you found your voice enough to ask, “Is it dead?”

“You should be dead!” Noa’s booming voice suddenly echoed in your ears.

You cringed away, groaning from the noise, “Not so loud.”

“He is right,” Soona’s soft voice brushed by then. “Whatever that was…should not have worked.”

Anaya seemed very excited as he proclaimed, “But it did…you killed it!”

You nodded slowly, not sure you could trust your legs to stand, but needing to either way. Noa’s hand on your shoulder stopped you. You looked up at him as he demanded, “Do not move…you are injured…smell blood.”

“I do too,” Soona confirmed.

You looked down then, pools of drying blood spreading across the material covering your lap. You turned your palms then, seeing the broken skin for the first time as you raised them up for the apes inspection.

Soona looked very concerned, turning to Noa as Anaya made small, rapid sounding hoots of concern. Noa did not hesitate, digging into the side bag on his horse and pulling out a small pouch of red looking paste. He smeared his fingers with it before slathering it onto your palm. The sting was immediate, causing you to hiss and jerk away out of instinct, but Noa did not allow you to go far with a hand on your back.

Your awareness pivoted to the warm leathery feel of his hand as it touched the bare skin of your back, only then remembering the state of your clothes. Your shirt was still in one piece, but sliced up just the same. Once he knew you wouldn’t move again, he yanked the wrap on his left arm from his body. He immediately began wrapping your left hand, the blood soaking through the first few passes before finally being confined to just your hand.

Noa looked to your right hand, seeing he had excess materiel. He made to rip the band, but Anaya stopped him, pulling away his own arm wrap and handing it to Noa. He said nothing, but you nodded towards Anaya, gasping through the pain of the red paste once more. “Thank you, A-Anaya.”

He grimaced, but grunted, “For Echo…anything.”

Noa finished wrapping your right hand, looking down at your pants as if you had soiled them. You remembered then, that Echo blood is revolting to apes, which probably explains the looks of disgust they were sharing. Anaya pivoted away from the group, taking a few steps towards the boar, then swiveled back before asking, “How…get home?”

“We…will not.” Noa responded with a sense of finality to his tone, offering you an arm to help you stand. You stumbled, but quickly caught yourself with his help. At first you thought they meant you, until Noa clarified, “Too big…hide too damaged…predator will clean for us…come nightfall.”

“But she fought,” Soona protested as Noa spotted your weight, making your way towards his horse. “Her honest kill…must be honored…we witnessed it…that is the law.”

Anaya was suddenly in charge of your weight, Noa passing you off to him as he mounted. He huffed, nostrils actually flaring as he argued with Soona, “Nothing we can do…out here…need to focus on…getting Echo home.”

Soona, not to be deterred, stamped her right hand into her left palm, “It is the law…Noa!”

“Law does not matter,” Noa hissed. He turned his gaze to Anaya, whose arm was wrapped around your waist and his other hand was holding your head. He refused to hand you over while Noa was fighting with Soona, which only seemed to enrage him more. “Will be dark…by the time we get back…do not have time for this…need Echo to be home…to be safe…for all of us to be safe!”

“Why does the law…not matter Noa?” Soona pushed.

You saw every muscles in Noa’s body tense, his breathing harsh as he and Soona stared each other down. You felt Anaya flinch beneath you before he grunted, “If that is the reason…then Noa should have…courage to say it.”

You felt like you were missing something important, but all you could focus on was how upset Noa was. You wanted to comfort him, but even now you felt yourself getting weaker the longer you stood. You allowed more of your weight to rest with Anaya, who had to readjust his grip to keep you upright. Still, he would not hand you to Noa.

Said Ape jumped from the saddle, anger burning in his eyes as he stared at Soona. You thought he would take you from Anaya by force as his gaze shifted, but instead he shouldered past you. He was out of your line of sight, but a few moments later you heard what sounded like the snapping of bones. You flinched each time, the sound sending chills up your spine.

When Noa returned, he grunted. You could see him now, in his left hand were the two tusks of the boar. His right hand, covered in what you assumed was it’s blood, raised towards your head. He paused before touching you, eyes softening as he silently waited for your permission. You hummed your approval before he made, what felt like, a W between your brows on your forehead.

Soona came towards you then, placing a hand on the top of your head, Anaya’s hand already occupying a side. Noa placed his on the remaining space, saying, “You have protected…the Eagle Clan…with this honest kill…in front of the witnesses…of your bravery…in the name of the elders who came before…as Master of Birds I…honor you now.”

You felt their hands, all but Anaya’s anyway, leave your body then. You remained confused, feeling as if something important had just happened, but you weren’t sure what. You supposed it was the clan’s way of thanking someone.

Soona looked to you then, patting your cheek, “Very proud…amazing Echo.”

Anya hooted lowly, “Very honored…Noa will explain…later.”

“We must go now,” Noa grunted as he mounted his horse once more.

Anaya did not hesitate to help hoist you into Noa’s waiting arms now. Once you were settled, a whimper catching in the back of your throat as the spreading of your legs hurt the places where your thighs had hit the asphalt. You tried to massage the pain away, but it was too deep set in. You closed your eyes, willing to grin and bare it until you were tucked into your bed tonight.

“Anaya…Soona,” Noa called. “Lead the way…home…will follow you…keep eye on Echo.”

Both apes nodded, Anaya making a hand gesture that you did not catch in time. Just in case, you signed back, Do not worry. Echo fine.

As the group made their way towards the barricade, you heard Noa whisper, as if he did not want to be heard by the other two, “Do not…do that again…very dangerous…could have been…hurt worse.”

You hummed, “I’ll try not to.”

“You are too intelligent...to be this foolish” Noa huffed.

Your brow creased, “A simple thank you would be enough. Y’know Soona’s sling, couldn’t have killed it. If it would have ripped into one of the horses legs you would have had a dead horse on your hands. I know you care for your horses just as you do your eagles.”

You were unprepared for the horse to run, your body a rag doll as Noa’s arm once again wrapped around you. The jump came and went so quickly, though you did yelp in pain when it landed. Noa’s grip did not leave you, and you allowed yourself to lean back against him. You were so tired, the setting sun reminding you that there was still an hour ride ahead of you.

Noa sighed, “Did thank you…and yes…I know…still…do not put yourself…in danger again…you are safe…with us…we can…protect you.”

“I know,” you mumbled. “I just wanted to help.”

You felt Noa’s other hand come up to stroke his fingers through your tangled hair. Something about that seemed odd, but you couldn’t pinpoint why as the pain slowly dulled the longer you rode. The gentle rock back and forth seemed to soothe you further. You jerked, almost falling asleep before crashing back into your body. You forced your eyes open then, trying to stay awake.

Noa chuckled, “You are tired…rest.”

“I’m okay,” you replied.

“Your body wants sleep,” Noa replied. “Listen to it and give it…what it wants.”

You hummed, feeling Noa pull you in closer to him. Your entire weight braced on his chest. He was warm, and as you let your eyes slip closed, you felt your head swivel to rest in the crook of his neck where it met his shoulder. You could hear his heartbeat, it was strong and steady, adding to the warmth of him and the rocking of the horse. You would lose this battle with sleep.

You felt Noa’s arm tighten around you, securing you to him. “Sleep…I have you.”

You were already half asleep when you whispered back, “You always do.”

[specialagentlokitty]

Negan x teen!reader - I’ll look out for you

Hey I was wondering if you could do a suicidal/self harm reader x either negan, Rick or both (TWD) no worries is you don’t want to! I hope you are well too/ Ah I completely forgot to add but if you haven’t started writing the depressed reader x negan/rick that I requested a couple hours ago are you able to make it a teen reader?- Anon💜

T/W: mentions of self harm and suicidal thoughts

Looking around at everybody trying to rebuild Alexandria you looked down at the paper in your hands, and you got up.

Walking down the steps, you went inside the open cell and carefully set it on the cot.

You didn’t have anybody else to leave a letter for, you weren’t really sure why you were leaving him one, you weren’t all that close to Negan, but you felt like it was the right thing to do.

So, you left the cell again, and you ran to Carols home, rummaging through her things because you knew she had what you were looking for.

Finally, you found the gun, and you tucked it into the back of your jeans and put everything back where you had found it.

Now all you had to do was find a way to sneak out of the walls without being noticed, which was going to be hard because as you stepped outside the hole in the wall.

“Hey, where you going?” Rosita asked.

You looked towards her, giving her a smile.

“I’m just gonna try find some game.”

She nodded.

“Alright, come back before dark you know the rules.”

You nodded your head and made your way towards the road, because it was the only way you were going to find what you needed.

As you were making your way over you were stopped by Negan who held his arm out to prevent you from leaving.

“Hold up. Hold on now.”

You looked at him, giving him a little smile.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You swatted his hand away from your shoulder.

“I’m going to find us food.”

“Alone?”

You shrugged a little bit.

“We need food Negan. We don’t have anybody to spare.”

Negan looked at you.

“You’re not bringing water with you? No weapons?”

“Huh? I have my knife, see?”

You moved your jacket aside to show Negan you did have a weapon with you and he nodded his head.

“Okay, and water?”

“I guess I forgot to grab some I was sort of in a rush trying to make the most of the day.”

You grinned sheepishly up at him, and he chuckled a little, shaking his head at you.

“Alright, wait here. Do no move.”

Negan set down what he was holding and made his way back into Alexandria.

You waited a few minutes before you started to jog away, waiting until you were out of view before you began to run as fast you could.

You didn’t want to be caught, and you didn’t want to be stopped either, this had to go the way you had planned, it couldn’t go wrong.

You didn’t know how much of a heady start you were going to have, or whether they would know where you went, hell, if they figured it out you didn’t think you were going to out run them.

You ran for as long as you could until your lungs began to burn and your legs ached, and you slowed down, placing your hands on your knees to take a few deep breaths.

Looking around, you found the small arrow you had carved into a tree a few weeks back when you were planning this out.

You changed direction slightly, take a turn in the road.

Negan had gone back to his cell, trying to find the canteen you had left in there when you were last visiting him.

He walked past his cot and he stopped, seeing the paper laying neatly there.

Furrowing his brows he sat down and picked it up.

He didn’t leave it there, but people were known to try run him out, so with a sigh he opened it to see what they had said this time.

But he recognised the handwriting as yours.

‘Don’t forget me. I’m sorry.’

That’s all that it said, just two simple sentences.

Holding the paper tightly he ran out the cell and back to where he had left you, but you were gone.

“Where did (Y/N) go?!”

Rosita looked over to him.

“Hunting.”

Negan shook his head, walking over and he pulled her to the side.

“No they didn’t..”

He glanced around and showed her the note you had left.

“You can’t take anybody else, if you do it’s o my going to scare (Y/N) into possibly doing something�� I need to know where they would go to do this…”

“I’m not letting you go alone.”

“I swear I’ll bring the kid back, just tell me where I can find them.”

Rosita grumbled a little and turned away before sighing, looking at him.

“Come on, I think I know.”

They began to jog in the same direction as you, except instead of taking the road Rosita lead them into the trees.

“Where are we going?” Negan asked.

“There’s a cemetery out here, untouched by walkers because of the gates, their brother wanted to be buried out here. I know they sneak out to go sit with him, if they’re going anywhere it’s there.”

Negan nodded his head and he kept following her.

You finally find the cemetery, and you climbed up the corner fence, jumping down on the other side, and you walked over to the wooden cross.

Sitting down, you rested your back on the stone of whoever it was rested next to your brother.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered.

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the photo you had of you and him, placing it under a small stone to hold it in place.

“I know I said I’d keep going but I.. I just can’t…”

You took the gun out, setting it down in front of you and took your brothers jacket off, not wanting to ruin it.

Folding it up, you set it down neatly next to you, then you checked the chamber of the gun again just to make sure it had bullets and it did.

Taking a deep breath, you held the gun to the side of your head, and you took the safety off.

“Just wait for me…”

You slowly moved your finger to the trigger.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your hand was shaking slightly, and tears began to fall down your face.

“Come on… come on…”

You were stuck in a kind of limbo.

You wanted to pull the trigger, hell, you were trying to pull it, but it was like you were frozen, stuck in a state if wanting and unable to.

Scoffing a little, you lowered gun, resting your head back and stared at the sky with tears falling down your face.

“Come on (Y/N)…. You can do it…”

“Hey kid…”

You snapped your head to the side and you raised the gun.

Negan immediately stopped, raising his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey, come on. Don’t do that.”

Negan studied you carefully, they way you were shaking, the tears falling down your face, and he looked to the grave which was covered in different coloured flowers.

Clearly you had put the care until finding and growing different flowers along here, taking good care of not only your brother but everybody else.

Negan gestured to the space opposite you.

“Can I?”

“Just… just go away…”

Negan shook his head.

“Nope. Not leaving you here with a gun pointed to your head kid, sorry.”

Negan lowered his hands, putting his hands in his pockets.

You didn’t take your gaze of him, and he knew why.

Because you knew the moment you did he was going to come and take the gun off you, he was going to stop you.

“You don’t have to do this (Y/N)… please…”

“I do….”

Negan shook his head, slowly walking away from you, trying to put some distance between the pair of you and you stood up, walking back a few steps.

He stopped walking and you did the same thing.

“Then talk to me kid, tell me what’s going on, why you think you have to do this. What’s going on in that clever head of yours?”

Negan sat on some headstone, and you narrowed your eyes at him, so he stood up.

“Let’s just talk for a while, yeah? Just us.”

“How did you find me Negan?”

He sighed.

“Rosita brought me. She left.”

“You should leave too. I’m not leaving this place Negan.”

“Yes, you are. I’ll make sure you are.”

You shook your head, leaning against a tree.

“I.. it shouldn’t have been him… he.. he shouldn’t have died… I.. I should have…”

“You can’t believe that. Maybe I wasn’t there, but I heard what your brother did, and he did it to protect you (Y/N), because he wanted to give you a fighting chance in this world.”

You looked at him, and he did the same thing.

“Listen to me kid, there is so many other options. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone, and I can’t just stand here and watch you put a bullet through your skull.”

You scoffed.

“You don’t get a say…”

“Why?”

“Because this.. this is my choice… I.. I’ve made my choice…”

Negan sighed, running a hand down his face, taking a shaky breath.

“(Y/N), you don’t deserve a death like this…”

“No? So I deserve to be killed by a Walker? Shot by some asshole?”

“No! You deserve to live a damn long life! And if you kill yourself I can never make sure you get that!”

You glanced away, and he used this as his chance to get closer, stopping by another headstone in hopes you wouldn’t notice.

You sniffled a little bit, turned your head towards the ground.

You slowly sat down against the tree, and you wiped your tears with your free hand.

Negan walked over to your brothers grave, and he picked up the jacket, draping it over his shoulder after shaking the leaves from it.

“You are so kind, and caring. I.. I hate to see you hurting like this (Y/N), I can’t. I know he wouldn’t want you to be hurting like this either.”

Negan slowly walked over, stopping when you looked up and he crouched down, offering you a gentle smile.

“This world needs more people like you…”

“Depressed?”

“Kind.”

He smiled at you, lowering his head as he sighed slightly.

“I never had any kids of my own, but Lucille would’ve loved you and you brother, and I bet right now she’s up there with him, looking after him.”

You looked up at him.

“They’re looking after each other. You’re not alone down here kid, you’re far from it.”

“I don’t have anything anymore Negan…”

“But you do, don’t you get it? You have so much, you have so much hope when we don’t, you always try to make everybody else feel better before yourself.”

Negan looked at you, a few tears building up in his eyes and he took a deep breath, looking away from you.

“If I had a kid who was like you, god I’d be the proudest father in the world.”

You sniffled a little bit. Shaking your head.

“How long have you been feeling like this…?”

“Since he died three years ago…”

“Oh (Y/N), come here.”

Negan held out his arm to you and you shook your head at him.

“I.. can’t do this anymore…”

You moved your finger back to the trigger and his eyes widened.

“No, no, no, no, no, please, please. Give me the gun. Please.” He pleaded with you.

Negan sat on his knees, not wanting to move any closer in case he scared you.

“Please (Y/N)…”

You slowly lowered the gun, and you held it out to him, letting him take it and empty if it from the bullets, then he tossed it to the side.

Negan grabbed your hand and he pulled you into him, letting you crash into his chest, hold on you tightly.

“You’re not alone…”

You sobbed even harder, and he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I’m never going to leave you alone kid…”

Negan took a deep breath, and he looked at your arm, the old and fresh scars that littered your skin.

“You’re going to be okay…”

“What if I’m not…?”

You pulled away so you could look at him, and he offered you a soft smile, draping your brothers jacket back over your shoulders.

“You will, wanna know why?”

You nodded and he placed his hand on your head.

“Cause you’re badass, and you don’t take shit from anyone.”

Negan picked up the gun and bullets, putting them in his own pocket, and he showed you the photo that you had also left by the grave.

He looked at it, then showed it to you, pointed to you.

“You see that smile?”

You nodded.

“You’re going to get that smile back one day. I’ll make sure you do.”

He held his hands out to you, and you let him pull you up, and into another hug.

“You’ll let me help you?”

You sniffled, nodding your head.

“I don’t wanna be alone Negan…”

“Well, just as well you’ve got me huh? Cause I’m not leaving you alone, where you go I go, yeah?”

You nodded again.

“Come on kid.”

Negan took you back to the road you had used to get there, both of you making your way to Alexandria.

“You going to show me where you’ve been hiding all these things to hurt yourself?”

“I.. I can’t..”

He glanced at you.

“Why?”

“I… I need them…”

“Hey, listen to me. You don’t need them, you don’t need to do this to yourself. Okay? I don’t want you to do this to yourself, if you feel like you have to you come straight to me, I don’t care where I am or what I’m doing, you come find me (Y/N).”

You didn’t say anything and he sighed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to hold you.

“You don’t deserve that.”

You glanced down at your feet.

“I’ll find them either way you know I will.”

You nodded.

“So, when you want to hurt yourself again, you come to me.”

“Will you tell anyone..?”

“Nah, just us. Me and you. That’s it.”

“Thank you…”

Negan smiled down at you, leading you back towards the gates of Alexandria where Rosita was waiting.

He took you back over to where he was working and sat you down on a step, sitting next to you and he handed you an apple.

You looked at him and he grinned a little bit.

“I’ve got you kid. Don’t worry.”

You nodded and turned to sit sideways, resting your back on his side, just staring at the apple.

You didn’t have the strength to take your own life, not like that anyway, but you still wanted to, and ideas ran through your head trying to figure out what you wanted to do.

You wanted to die.

You didn’t know if you could think of anything else at this point, it’s all you had thought about for long your kind was consumed by the dark thoughts swirling around it.

Negan saw this, and he placed a hand on your head.

It was a small gesture, but it snapped you out of your head and that’s what he wanted.

Because he was scared that the teenager he had grown to enjoy talking to, looking after since he was let out of the cell was going to leave and that would be it.

He wanted to do good, he wanted to protect you, he just didn’t know how yet

[recklessfiction]

Keep an Eye Out As You Travel West

You see a church, you just keep on walking. Most are abandoned anyhow, nothing left in 'em but the hollowed out husks of their priests. The rest have been filled by now; old pretenders, zealots, and self proclaimed prophets snatching up any man fool enough to worship. And that's if you're lucky. There are older things, other things that have curled up amidst the altars of the Lord like worms in dirt. If you're wanting to do any worshiping, best do it out under the sky.

There're things that roam the dust, figures of men with eyes deader than any corpse and smiles as bright and pretty as a lady's. They come around sometimes, always trying to pawn off some bizarre thing; elaborate crowns made of rusted nails, gold lockets with strange portraits inside, letters that can't be read without getting a deep pounding in your head, and keys rusted with so much blood it'd be a wonder if they turned anything at all. Now, I've seen what comes for folks who trade with them and I'll tell you this. Wherever they got their goods, it sure as shit wasn't from here.

You'll be hearing now about the "Oil Baptisms," I'm sure. Black sea water dredged up from some abyss, thicker than any water I've ever seen and you can smell it long a mile away. They say it gives people "the sight" but of what I can't say. All I know is that once you start smelling that briny shit on the wind, the screaming don't start long after.

Be careful what deals you make out here. There're plenty of strange folk who would be more than glad to work you down to the bone and long after, too. Work is work, crops need harvesting, graves need digging, meat needs carving, and idols need worshiping. Watch your words and read your contracts, else you might just be stuck washing the feet of the righteous until doomsday.

Best stay indoors once night comes, that's when a lot of the "families" start movin' out. They take to the roads, long lines of them, a parade of the ugliest sons of bitches you've ever seen. In the daylight, their skin never fits quite right and stinks to high heaven but once the sun dips past the trees, they start taking it off. They move from place to place, sloughing off their decayed flesh and stealing new off any traveler they come across. Lock your doors and put out your lights before they coming knocking on your door, asking sweetly, "Do you have anything I could wear?"

I am of the opinion that the woods ought not be traversed by folk who ain't been called there. Keep to the roads and towns, there's enough foul mess there if it's strangeness you're looking for. But what's in the woods has always been in the woods and if you pass the treeline with no business being there, well. The woods will give you business.

While a useful tool, a gun won't save you from drowning in the bathtub of a family of fanatic prognosticators, or from having your skin torn clean off by the night sky. Keep your ears up for any kind of protection you can get and learn to speak well because a lot of smart talk can get you out of a whole mess of trouble.

Keep on moving, friend. If you're looking to survive this trek, don't stop for anything, not even to bury the dead or feed the starving. It ain't worth what'll catch you, cause there's always things waiting for a fella to slow down so's they can get their claws in faster, deeper. You wanna be stuck here, in the fields and the dirt, under the big sky while hymns are burned into your skull? No?

Then keep on moving.

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 1

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Tension, not much else, maybe some angst??

Ordon Village on the cusp of winter was truly a sight to behold. The trees bare and the ground covered in frost in the early morning, fog rolling in from the surrounding forest. You could hear the birds chirping in the first hours of the day, being a nice, calming alarm clock for you, a nice change to your phone’s blaring alarm.

Stretching your arms out, you yawn. Today was pretty important, as you have a meeting with Rusl and the chain with what your next steps will be. You weren’t exactly looking forward to it, not wanting to end this domestic little vacation you got to have, but it was necessary. Nothing stays peaceful in Hyrule. 

Before you had the chance to rub the sleep out of your eyes, you could hear Wind banging on your door.

“Wakey-wakey sleepyhead! Wild made breakfast!” and before you had the chance to respond, much less actually get out of bed, Wind barges in and grabs your hand, pulling you along. You somehow managed to grab your old hoodie on the way out, not wanting to freeze outside of the warm blankets Twilight gave you. Ironically enough, it was the zelda hoodie that your best friend got you, one of those hoodies that were meant to look like Link’s hat as the hood. The group teased you a lot about it.

You were listening to Wind’s rambling as you were being dragged into Twilight’s kitchen, already hearing quiet talking amongst the boys. The kitchen smelled amazing. 

“Oh my god Wild what did you make, it smells SO fucking good.” you awed.

He rolled his eyes in amusement, “Just some toast with eggs over rice. I also tried making a new sauce to put over the eggs, so let me know what you think,” he said, sliding a plate of food towards you.

You took a bite and moaned, “Wild it’s official, you’re my favorite.” you mumbled, mouth full of food.

You hear a couple ‘hey’s!’ in the background, but you ignore them, just smiling at Wild who scratches his head in embarrassment, but gives you a smile in return.

You finish off your breakfast quickly, washing it down with a mug of warm honey milk, Sky’s homemade beverage that you’ve come to enjoy a lot. With a dash of some sweetened spice, it's the perfect drink to warm you up.

~

With all of your stomach’s full and satiated, you make your way to Rusl’s cottage towards the edge of Ordon Village. The cottage is quaint, decorated with small lanterns to commemorate the coming winter holidays. Rusl is carving a piece of wood on his porch and waves at your lot once you come closer, ushering you inside. The inside was cozy, a fire crackling in the fireplace warming the living room, a warm soup being heated on the stove and some fresh bread in the oven. 

You all sit down at his dining table, all curious and/or worried on what your next steps will be and whether or not there has been any news on the Shadow’s movements.

“I’m sure you all are anxious to hear about the Shadow’s activity, but there was something more important I needed to bring up first.” Rusl said, making eye contact with each of you, but his eyes stopped at you.

Time nodded at him, encouraging him to continue.

“We all know that our guide here isn’t from this Hyrule, much less any of yours. That being said, Ashei had sent me a letter a few days ago sending the typical update that she does every couple months, but this letter was… different, so to speak. Among the resistance and the Hylian research team there has been a discovery, or rather, a rediscovery.” Rusl paused.

The air was thick, tense with anxiety and stress.

“What is it Rusl? Is someone in trouble?” Twilight asks, putting a hand on his shoulder for reassurance.

Rusl shakes his head.

“No. For now at least.”

He takes a breath.

“They seem to have found another mirror. A twilight mirror possibly, not clear. But that’s not the part I brought you here for.”

Rusl then fixes his eyes right onto you, causing the rest of the group to turn their gaze onto you, one by one.

“They think it can bring you home, Y/n.”

₊˚✩⊹

[venomwrites]

Warnings: Spoilers

Her mail is full of threats. 

It’s sorted for safety, but then it winds up on her table. Pain filled accusation. She should have died instead, how the blade should have gone to her neck not her eye. Jinx should have killed her. How could she do what she did. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. She reads about people’s loved ones who sacrificed themselves. Sometimes people give their names. Most of the time they don’t. 

Caitlyn reads them all. 

She learns about people’s families. Friends. Their darkest desires. How they would kill her. She drinks the poison with her remaining eye. When it starts to throb she uses the drops the doctor gave her and keeps reading. She got these people killed. She can at least know them. When they name themselves she adds them to the list. She makes sure they get their dispensations from the funds and repairs are seen to. Piltover will take care of all its citizens. She will make sure of that. 

After an hour the threats start to bled together but she pushes past it as best she can. She cannot let these people’s pain blend together like that. They deserve so much more, but she can give them that at least. She is about to take a break when the violent blue ink peaks out at her. 

Everything goes still as she extracts the card. 

She doesn’t recognize the place on the front. Somewhere with mountains capped in snow. The card is bordered in yellow. On the front someone has harshly crossed out bright letters. They peak through the ink. WISH YOU WERE HERE. Caitlyn turns the card back to the side with the blue lettering. 

SHE BETTER BE EATING. 

Caitlyn nearly drops the card. There’s no return address. Hers is ‘the big kiramman house’ with nothing underneath it. There isn’t even a stamp. The handwriting is more precise than anything she’s seen from the bloody nailed girl. It’s like a child practicing their letters. Maybe that’s exactly what it is. 

Caitlyn lets out a breath. It’s plausible, they never found a body. Something occurs to Caitlyn and she begins to sort through the letters. Silently she apologizes to every one she pushes aside. She will come back to them. But her mail is delayed. There’s too much of it to sort through daily. So maybe—

Another flash of blue. 

A cityscape this time with strange, alien buildings. 

Wish you were (NOT) here.

TRY HUMMING TO HER IF SHE CAN’T SLEEP

Pink, this time pink. A river with grey animals hopping merrily by. The sun is setting. No wishes decorate the front. 

SHE HATES THE DARK

Blue ink with a blue card. An endless sky dotted with airships. Two figures have been drawn on the front, holding hands in one. 

SWEETS ARE HER FAVORITE

The last is a pink one to go with a wide red desert. Puffy blue clouds dot the sky. Instead of a message there’s a chart. A family tree. Vi’s name is connected to hers with a long line. 

She traces the line with her finger and feels the indent carved into the bottom. The others all have it too. Each card has a secret. She grabs a pencil and drags it lightly along the bottom, adding graphite to the ridges and revealing the words. 

REMIND 

HER

I’M 

ALWAYS 

THERE

Caitlyn’s throat tightens. Jinx doesn’t ask her not to tell. Caitlyn is eternally grateful. They both know she can’t do that but it would feel wrong somehow to go against a request like that. Jinx has sent her the cards. Caitlyn can imagine her thinking this was the right decision. A clean break. She thought she was doing the right thing. 

Vi is curled up in her bed. Caitlyn wishes she could have made it her bed under any other circumstances. She’s seen Vi sleep for weeks, bleed out, cry until she vomits—all in this bed. Every time Caitlyn sees her in it she wants to scream. Wants to drag her out of this room and to her bed. Where things were better, where things made sense. But Vi just curls tighter and ignores her when she tries to speak. 

It’s anything but a clean break. 

“Vi,” she says, announcing herself to the lump in the bed. Vi’s shoulders stiffen which is as much of a reaction as Caitlyn gets from her these days, “these came for me,” she continues, “I think you should read them.”

Vi turns away in refusal towards the darkness of the room. She’s got the curtains on one side of the bed closed. It lets in light and gives people access, but it also sends the clear message she doesn’t want to be bothered. All one would have to do is open the curtains on the other side. No-one dares. Caitlyn perches on the side of the bed. 

Caitlyn is not a music person. 

She has no idea what to hum. 

But she does. 

Grey eyes miserably turn towards her as Caitlyn tries to remember anything resembling a tune. Her parents tried to make her take music lessons but she was never good at them. Still she forces herself to keep going as skepticism seems to cut through even Vi’s stupor. Vi’s lips are pulled into a frown as she stares at her, slowly easing from her side to her back. The most life Caitlyn has seen in her. 

“That was awful, Cupcake,” Vi mumbles, “if I read those will you never do that again?”

Caitlyn could care less as she nods and hands the cards to Vi. She pulls the first one from her bad hand, turns it over and bolts upright so fast it’s a miracle their heads don’t smack together. Vi shoves herself fully into the light. 

“Where—“

“They arrived in the past week,” Caitlyn says, “I brought them as soon as I saw.” 

Vi shuffles through them five times, turning each card over like she is missing something. Caitlyn is not expecting it when she throws off the sheet and gets to her feet. She kneels down and spreads the cards out, looking at them again like she must be missing something. Caitlyn eases herself down next to her. 

“She’s alive,” Vi says numbly, “she’s alive and she’s—“ she shakes her head, “she said she was breaking the cycle. Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says. 

“Can you find out?!” Vi demands. After having her be so still and quiet, the angry shout catches Caitlyn off guards, “this could be a copycat.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says slowly, “but I don’t think it is,” she motions to the hidden message, “she knew I would find that.” 

Vi shudders as she stares at the cards. Caitlyn has never felt this useless in her entire life. She’s used to making things happen. But here she’s failing on all accounts. Only Jinx has been able to pull Vi out of her stupor. Caitlyn has tried and failed so many times. She looks at the graphite boxes. Her fingers pick up the one with the airship and her features twist. 

“She said she was going to break the cycle,” Vi says, “how is this breaking the cycle?!” She smacks her good hand on the floor, “Cait where is she?!” 

Her voice breaks desperately around the last word. Great, heaving sobs wrack her frame. Caitlyn just manages to get her so she doesn’t land on her shoulder when she crumples forward. She takes the post card out of her grip and laces their fingers together as Vi wails at the loss. It’s a cruel thing that Vi’s ghosts never stay dead. She never looses someone once. Caitlyn thought she knew grief when she buried her mother. But the wound has started to heal. Every time Vi gets a bit of healing, the wound is wrenched back open. 

Caitlyn wants to promise they will find her, but she doesn’t know if that’s possible. They could date the cards, find the locations, but she knows Jinx will not be there. She will slip away again and the wound in Vi’s chest will rip open all over again. Vi is strong, so strong. But Caitlyn doesn’t know how many times she can bear this loss. Vi’s existed for weeks on nothing more than broth and nutrients. Her muscles are weak. She should not have this kind of strength. But she keeps sobbing. She sounds more like an animal than a person as she wails into Caitlyn’s embrace. 

Caitlyn just folds herself around her, pushing the cards to the side so they won’t get damaged. 

She expects Vi to go listless again. She knows she must be exhausted. But Vi pulls herself up painfully and wipes uselessly at her face. Most of her weight leans on Caitlyn. Caitlyn doesn’t care, she would bear all of Vi’s weight if she let her. She reaches out and touches the underside of Vi’s eye. The tears she wipes are immediately replaced but for a moment Vi leans into her palm. 

“She loves you,” Caitlyn says, “this is her wanting you to make a life of your own.”

“I can’t do that without her,” Vi says, her voice wretched, “Cait she’s my sister.”

“I know,” Caitlyn says, “I know this isn’t fair to you,” the words are messy and she cannot find the right ones, “maybe one day she’ll see that,” she tries, “but she wants you to let her go.”

Vi looks like she is going to sob again, but there are no more tears left. Caitlyn sees the white knuckled fist she’s making in her lap. A stubborn refusal to follow Jinx’s request. Caitlyn goes on instinct and covers Vi’s hand. Vi makes a noise but doesn’t try to stop her as she pulls her fingers open and slots their hands together. 

“Hold onto me,” she says. 

Vi gives her the same gutted look. Caitlyn knows this isn’t fair. She’s put them in this position how many times. Me or Jinx. Choose. Despite her words in the cell she knows Jinx is woven into Vi’s heart. Maybe in some world there is no choice forced upon Vi. Maybe in some world this all works out differently. But here and now Jinx has taken the choice. She’s made it for them. 

Vi lets out a harsh sound between a sob and a moan. But her fingers tighten on Caitlyn’s hand. 

Caitlyn kisses the back of her knuckles and guides Vi’s arm over her shoulder. It’s a familiar position. No matter the wounds. Something goes automatic in Vi and she gets her feet under her as Caitlyn stands up. Vi looks down at the cards. It hasn’t been that long, the cards all arrived differently. If they are to be believed, Jinx has seen so many places already. Places she doubts anyone in the Undercity has gone. 

“She wanted to see the world,” Vi says. 

“She is,” Caitlyn assures her. 

“I—“ Vi tightens her grip, “maybe you should just get the postcards for now,” Caitlyn looks at her, “will you tell me when you do?” 

“Of course,” Caitlyn says, “the moment they arrive.”

Vi looks at her silently and then gives a jerky nod. 

“Could you help me to the shower?” She asks finally. 

Caitlyn smiles and nods. 

The cards continue sporadically. Sometimes months will go by without them. Sometimes several arrive in a week. Caitlyn tells the Enforcers sorting her mail they are not a threat and should be given to her immediately. It’s difficult because sometimes copycats send blue letters, but Caitlyn learns the difference fairly quickly. Vi puts each one into a box before she cries over them. She treasures them, the only proof her sister is alive somewhere. 

Until the box arrives.

For the first time it’s not addressed to Caitlyn. 

“This is a bad idea,” the Enforcer says, “there’s gears in there—“

“Thank you,” Caitlyn tells him, “it’s alright.”

Vi goes stiff when she sees the unopened box. Her eyes widen when she realizes its addressed to her. She rips out a knife and cuts through the packaging before Caitlyn can mention what the scans have shown. There’s a dull click and fine glitter explodes from the box. Caitlyn is very glad she’s wearing her eyepatch as it coats everything in pink and blue. Vi looks back into the box, reaches in and pulls out an envelope. Inside there’s a blue gem and a card. Vi fingers the gem and offers Caitlyn the card. A smile is already pulling at her lips. 

She turns the card over to see familiar mountains. This time the sentiment on front hasn’t been crossed out. It’s been underlined several times. Caitlyn looks at the back. On it is a bunch of numbers. After a moment she realizes its coordinates and a date range.  

It’s an invitation. 

[mahotoai]

If there was anything that came in terms of turmoil, it was the fact that life turned upside down.

And Dave was still dealing with one fact that made him.. not exactly happy with himself.

The fact he was a God. With a capital G.

Power was something he now held in limit for himself, except in certain cases. But still, held its limits. He had before unleashed his powers in the physical sense. But had yet to fully release in the magical.

So he had found a world with a good lot of mana, but in an abandoned spot that had no life for miles.

A desert area that had no life to speak of.

A safe place to try something. To play God.

So, he closed his eyes. The dragon feeling out the magic. He felt its strings like the tightly wound strings of an instrument. And when he unleashed the magic. He didn't choose destruction. He chose instead, the attempts at life.

And the spell he used, its arcane codex came alive in the sky as runes and arcane circles, brimming with life.

And life sprung from the ground as grass, trees, and pockets of water, spreading for miles. The spell unleashed like Dave had just released the floodgates from a dam.

And life flourished. And spread like an uncontrolled wildfire.

The fact was that spreading like an uncontrolled wildfire meant it crossing into Pan's Forest's boundaries and Pan having to get Yuki to strengthen the barrier while he stepped from beyond the safety of his wood, taking the form of a old shaggy deer covered in moss and brambles to hop across the newly formed oasis of life, correcting it with every stuff where there were mishaps in the life magic.

Upon reaching the dragon, the annoyed Eldritch spoke firmly and quickly; "If this is your first time using Life Magic, it's a poor attempt at one. You didn't even take into account that there might be other hidden magical realms around you that thrive on their own balance of magic!" With that said, Pan sighed and using his own life magic, he attempts to blend it with Dave's, correcting it where necessary, but mostly leaving it untouched to flourish and be an oasis when all is said in done.

"... There. It's fixed, and stable for another thing." The deer did not sound happy, but he was willing to tolerate it at best.

[hn-undercover-9503]

For the first time since being banished from his one and only home, Ren felt like he might actually be okay.

Things had gotten off to a rough start, but he was doing well now! He had his campsite, he got along well with the locals, and he had even managed to gather new armor and weapons to protect himself with. And then there was Luna, the beautiful gray dragon he’d nearly died several times over to attempt to save. She was probably the thing he was the most proud of with his new life, but there was one tiny little problem.

He had no idea how to care for a dragon.

He’d dealt with dragons before, back in his old kingdom. Except his job then had mostly been to get rid of them, and slay them if he was able. When it came to knowing what to feed them, what they needed, and how they liked to live he was totally clueless. He’d tried asking the high elf Sausage for advice, but he was little help. The way he explained it, every dragon was different and different attributes required different care.

So far, she had seemed content enough to curl up at his campsite and go off to find her own food when she wanted, and he felt comfortable letting her. She always came back eventually, curled up beside the water and went right back to dozing. But Ren felt bad, keeping her on such a tiny little beach.

Which was exactly why he had started clearing out more of the forest area behind his camp, hoping to give her a bit more space so she would be comfortable. It was as he was swinging his axe into the fifth tree, though, that he spotted the oddly shaped bump in the ground that he was sure hadn’t been there before. Curious, he set down his axe against the tree and walked around to the other side to investigate.

It was a small burrow dug into the ground, with a few chests and a large bedroll inside. He might have thought it was abandoned if he wasn’t certain it hadn’t been there the day before. His eyes found a small sign stuck into the ground in front of it, with scratchy letters carved into the wood.

Dragon's Lair

Martyn the Whyte

“Dragon..?” Ren mused, even more confused now. Luna was much bigger than this little burrow, and Sausage’s dragon was as well. There was no way a dragon would fit inside of there. Plus, he was fairly sure dragons didn’t know how to write Common.

He thought about looking through the chests, but decided that was probably a bad idea. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off a dragon, even if they might have been small. So instead, he turned back to the tree he’d been chopping and finished it off. With a bunch of freshly cut logs in hand, he started making his way back to his campsite, sidestepping the burrow.

He heard it before he even made it halfway. He froze, listening to what sounded like a roar followed by a huffing noise. Wind rushing, the same way it would when Luna had been struggling against the ocean’s current, frantically beating her wings as she tried to escape the water. Immediately, he dropped the wood and took off in a run, jumping the fallen log he used as a waypoint and stumbling into his camp.

He’d been expecting to find Luna under attack. What he had not been expecting to find was her sitting up and nudging a much smaller figure with her snout, huffing breath in their face and half covering them with her giant leathery wings. He gawked openly, watching as whoever she was being so friendly with laughed, trying to wriggle out from under her.

They did eventually succeed, managing to pull away and instead laying a hand on her snout, starting to gently pet her. It was a man, with long blond hair tied into a braid that fell over his shoulder. His hands were covered in blue and white scales, icy horns stuck out from the top of his head, and behind him lashed a thick, blue-white tail. Luna huffed again, eyes closed and some kind of rumbling noise shaking the ground at their feet.

W-Was…was she purring?

“Oh, hey.” Ren jumped, realizing then that the mystery dragon whisperer was looking at him. “Are you her owner?”

“Um–” He hesitated. “Yes?”

He frowned, tilting his head to the side. “You don’t sound too sure.”

“Um, uh–yes! Yes, I am her owner! My name is Sir Brie Ren, and would you mind telling me what you are doing in my campsite?”

The man laughed, stroking his hand down Luna’s snout still. “My bad. I just saw your friend here and couldn’t help myself.”

“How are you able to touch her if you just met her?” Ren wondered out loud. “It took me hours and hours of trying just to get near her, much less rescue her.”

The man shrugged. “Guess we just tend to trust our own, hm?”

“Your own?” Ren asked, eyes trailing back to his…less than human features. The tail, the scales, the icy horns. “What exactly are you?”

“I’m Martyn,” he introduced, raising the hand he’d been using to pet Luna and reaching out toward him with a half-smirk. “And I’m what you’d call a dragonborn.”

[wasawattpadkid]

YOUR WORKS ARE SO AMAZING IT'S UNREAL, i love how you write for the boys and how you can make it so wholesome and heartwarming without losing their essence and characterization, i don't know how to explain but the vibe of your writing is like being in woodsboro with them, ughhh how can you be so good?!! loll

so, i was wondering if i could request the boys (separately) with a Y/N who loves to spoil them, and i mean it, it doesnt need to be only with payed gifts but she loves to cook for them, to clean, to cuddle and even to dress them up like babies, URGHHH THEY NEED LOVE AND I NEED TO SPOIL THEM OUT OF THEIR MIND

still, remember to take care of yourself and to drink water, feel free to deny!! love uu ❤

First of all this made me so happy you are the sweetest person ever thank you so much 💕 and I absolutely live for the fluffy requests so here ya go!

Billy

"Excuse me!" You shouted politely as you walked through the sea of children with your hands full. The lunch bell had rang, so naturally all hell broke loose. Making your way to the water fountain Billy's eyes seemed to light up at the sight of you. "What is it today?" Randy asked a little disappointed he never got anything. You handed Billy his lunch box while the group of friends waited to see what's inside.

Billy never went without and you made sure of it. There was chicken wraps, grapes, pretzels and a slice of the pie you made him the night previous. "Babe, it's great. Thank you." Billy looked up at you his eyes squinting from the sun. You leaned down pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're welcome." You chirped setting next to him. "You know Y/n you're supposed to be his girlfriend not his mom." It was a sore subject but Stu never understood how to shut his mouth. Billy turned his head not being able to take the smile off his face. "Yeah and where are your parents Macher?"

Stu laughed. "That's fair man." Billy cut into the pie first taking a bite of the dessert. Before he could even taste the food you asked if he liked it. He nodded trying to quickly chew the food. "It's amazing." He grabbed your hand squeezing it with a smile. Tatum and Sydney thought you and Billy were the cutest couple at Woodsboro. Stu and Randy however had never seen Billy act this way. Everyone in a five mile radius could see you had him wrapped around your finger. You stayed hugged up to Billy's arm as you and him finished his lunch. It was a mandatory rule at this point that if you made him lunch you had to eat with him. Most of the time he quickly ate the dessert leaving you with baby carrots or whatever healthy food you packed him.

"I've got to get back to class I'll see you at my place tonight?" You double checked. "I'll be there." You kissed Billy's cheek before standing up. "Make sure to get the movie before you come over." You reminded him as he smirked wondering what sort of spell you had over him. "What movie are you two love birds watching tonight?" Randy asked as you started walking. "Ghost with Patrick Swayze!" You practically bounced with excitement as you walked back into the building. Oh they were so going to make fun of your boyfriend.

Stu

Stu waited patiently on your couch as you ran off to go grab something. Being in a relationship with you he knew you had something to give him every time he came over. Last week you brought him flowers and he almost cried. He could hear you enter the room. "Keep them closed!" You scolded making the boy scoff. "If I close them any tighter I'll swallow my eyeballs." You took another look at the gift making sure everything was perfect.

"You can open." Stu blinked trying to get rid of the splotches that covered his vision. The silver charm bracelet in your hand caught his attention right away. "That's for me?" He asked picking it up gingerly like he was afraid he'd break it. "Yep. If you look it's got our initials on it like when you carved them on that tree." He grabbed the small heart charm looking at the engraved letters. You watched him struggle to latch it on his wrist so you helped.

"Do you like it?" You bit your lip nervously. Stu would wear rings and a necklace occasionally but he didn't seem like one for bracelets. Stu grabbed you pulling you on the couch. He growled like a dog as he playfully bit your neck. You screamed with laughter as he continued tickling the life out of you. "Do I like it? Of course I like it. Are you crazy? He asked still abusing your sides as you squirmed around laughing. "I'm crazy." He said stopping to let you catch your breath. "Crazy for you." He added making you look at him funny. "That was the sappiest shit I've ever heard you say."

It was pretty bad, Stu agreed with you but he saw the way you got flustered by his words. You cuddled up with him on the couch as he inspected the new piece of jewelry. "This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me." You shook your head. "You say that every week." Stu leaned over kissing the top of your head. "Well you just keep getting better and better."

[pastshadows]

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 16: Ruins

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.9K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” You ask, glancing at Shadowheart. 

Her eyebrows pinch, and she studies the map in her hands with Gale looking over her shoulder. 

“This is the correct location, according to the map.” Gale says, with his fingers cradling his chin. 

You walk through a grand wrought-iron archway toward the two-story manor with a facade of azure tiles that gleam in the sunlight. A marble staircase leads to the portico, lined with stately round columns and a double door with intricate carvings of mermaids and sea serpents. 

“You look perplexed, Gale,” you say, as he comes up beside you with his arms crossed. “Something wrong?” 

“Just lost in thought." Gale cants his head. "I cannot recall ever seeing this building before, and something with this much grandeur stands out.” 

"So, are we just going to spend the day outside or are we going to discover what treasures this puppy has inside?" Hecat prompts with her voice high with excitement. 

You barely manage to stifle the groan that tries to cow its way from your throat, but your face deforms into a disgruntled scowl despite your intentions to remain impassive. 

Why did I insist on bringing her again? Ah-yes, because it was either this or leaving her alone with Astarion.  

“We cannot just go barging into homes,” you conclude with an authoritative edge. It’s been a while since you had to take this tone with anyone, and it feels strange to be playing the role of the fearless leader again. “Gale grew up here. If he says he hasn’t seen this building before, then something is up, and we must proceed carefully.” 

Hecat purses her lips with her hands on her hips, and then she laughs like an overly energetic child. “Of course, dragon girl. Whatever you say.” 

“Well, it’s possible I missed it.” Gale says, trying to ease the tension. “Though, unlikely.” 

“No.” Shadowheart hisses with distain. She looks at you with a mischievous smile. “Kamena is right, Gale. You wouldn’t miss a bright blue building in your hometown.” 

You make a mental note to hug Shadowheart later. There’s a peculiar feeling rife in the air, and you glance around and study the environment. Though it looks picturesque, no birds fly in the sky above, no insects hover above the vivid yellow and blue flowers that line the gardens, and the salty breeze doesn’t rustle the trees or grass. 

An illusion, and a sloppy one at that.  

The Weave suffuses you, infusing every pore of your being, until the essence emanates from you in a blushing radiance. Reaching out, you project vines of power to twist and penetrate into the illusion and expel the magic that holds it in place. 

The mirage flutters and dissolves away like paint on a canvas left out in the rain, revealing a forsaken structure with thorny, sunburnt vines that run up cracked walls of dirt-stained limestone.

“Someone went through a lot of trouble to hide this,” you mutter, drawing your quarterstaff, Markoheshkir. “Be on your guard.” 

Gale fills himself with the Weave, Shadowheart brandishes her spear, and Hecat unholsters the sword she procured from the prison as you approach. The door squeaks on its hinges as you push it open and enter the grand vestibule. A discarded chandelier lays sprawled on the floor, which is layered with dust and rubble that grinds under your boots. 

It doesn’t look like anything aside from rodents and insects has resided here in a long time as you search the forgotten manor. Clothing is strewn with holy moth-eaten rags hanging from wardrobes and chests as if the drawers were retching the clothing, indicating whoever lived here fled quickly. Jewellery of all kinds still sits on tarnished silver platters in the bed chambers. 

“Don’t mind if I do!” Hecat yammers with a wide smile as she fills her pockets. 

You roll your eyes as you flip through the embrittled pages of what looks to be an old journal, but the pigment in the ink has faded with age and become nearly unreadable. 

Leaving Hecat to her ransacking, you meander through the upper-floor bedrooms and libraries, trying to imagine what this place would have looked like without the mould eagerly crawling up the walls, spreading its tendrils of decay, and the dreary, dirt-clad flooring. The ceiling was once frescoed to depict epic scenes of something that's no longer discernible through the fractures and decayed patches. 

Shadowheart trots up beside you and whispers. “Hecat is going to need someone to carry her out of here if she keeps stuffing her pockets.” 

“Good.” You lean close to Shadowheart, putting your arm around her shoulder. “I will happily leave her and her overstuffed pockets here.” 

Shadowheart chuckles under her breath. “Me too, but I imagine we will have to drag Gale away.” 

You wiggle your glowing fingers with a devious grin. “What do you think Sleep spells are for?” 

Ducking into a bed chamber, you use the sleeve of your robe to wipe the grime from the window, allowing some light into the dim space. Shadowheart follows you, pulling out drawers and opening containers, analyzing everything with a quizzical furrow pinching her brow. 

Your boots thud off a floor plank with a hollow plunk, making you stop in your tracks. Crouching, you brush away the debris and rap your knuckles against various boards until you find the source. It’s barely perceptible, but you can see the scratches where the beam has been moved. 

“Shadowheart. Do you think you can pry this up with the tip of your spear?” 

Shadowheart wedges the point of her blade between the board and pops it out to reveal a small compartment full of the silky remains of spider webs, and you cringe. 

Shadowheart laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of spiders.” 

“Oh, don’t you start to!” You huff theatrically. “I take enough shit from Astarion over this.” 

“Well, you did throw rocks at him that one time.” Shadowheart goads, trying to stifle her chuckling. 

“Once! I did it once! Gods above. I’m about to throw rocks at you too!” 

“Spiders, huh?” Hecat simpers, leaning against the doorframe with a smarmy grin. “Don’t worry. We all have our weaknesses. I’ve got you, dragon girl.” 

You and Shadowheart glance at each other with palpable caution. Hecat has never been quiet, always stomping around Gale’s manor with footsteps so loud that it’s like her feet are made of lead. Yet here she is sneaking up and eavesdropping on your conversations. This one was innocent, but if she is capable of moving that quietly when she wants to, you will have to be more vigilant. 

Hecat reaches into the hole, shooting you a smile that looks genuine but doesn’t reach her eyes, and produces a small diary with leather straps, keeping it tied shut. She hands the item off, probably unhappy that it’s not another gem or golden necklace for her to stuff in her already plump pack. 

You open it carefully. The pages feel weak, as if they might fall to pieces like a dried leaf. The ink is dull, but there are passages that are legible, and you scan them. It’s written in an old dialect of common and speaks of meeting a handsome man in a tavern with eyes red like the sunset and skin pale and impossibly smooth like a pearl’s surface. 

Several pages have to be flipped before you find another passage clear enough to read. It talks about sneaking out to meet the unnamed man in the rose gardens bordering the estate every night, how he seemed oddly cold when they embraced, and how his smiles were only ever tight-lipped. 

Another excerpt speaks about sneaking him into the basement of the manor, falling in love, and how he spoke in sweet promises of eternity. 

The rest of the words are illegible until the last page, which reads, “I am dead. I am dead. I am dead.” 

By the time you look back up, Gale is standing with Hecat while Shadowheart reads over your shoulder. 

Shadowheart shakes her head. “Poor fool.” 

“I didn’t see a basement in this place.” You glance between Shadowheart and Gale, who both shrug. 

You meticulously search the main floor for anything that looks out of place. Hecat and you move overturned furniture, Shadowheart tosses books off shelves, and Gale uses the Weave to look for any illusion that may be still at play, but all you get for it is dirt-streaked faces and grimy hands. 

“You could just break the walls,” Hecat muses, looking around. “You’re powerful enough to do that, aren’t you?” 

“What a bright idea!” You cannot keep the poisonous sarcasm out of your voice. “I will just bring the entire place down on our heads. That will surely do it!” 

Hecat scoffs, but before she can lash you with a clever counter, Gale shouts, “My friends! I think I found something!” 

Shadowheart pats your back as you trail behind Hecat with a fearsome frown. You really would like to melt her eyes from her sockets. She’s been eyeballing Astarion ever since you returned, and try as you might, letting go, or growing up, as Astarion so harshly put it, has been a challenge. 

You’re trying, but insecurity is a rabid beast, and it hasn’t quite had its fill of you yet. 

Gale points to an unremarkable shelf built into a wall. “Seek, and you shall find! There’s a draft from the cracks in the wood.” Gale grabs your hand, sticking it close. “Feel it?” 

Although it’s barely perceivable, the air coming from behind the cracks is cooler than that of the ambient room. Your fingers trace around the edges. If there were any scratches or marks to indicate a way to open this, they’ve been hidden by peeling paint and swollen, cracking wood. 

You fill yourself with the Weave making your eyes burn pink, and Shadowheart and Gale move away habitually, an old habit from your adventures. Hecat, on the other hand, stands close, tapping her foot impatiently. You’re very tempted to let her get caught in your destruction — an unfortunate accident — but Gale guides her away before you can make up your mind. 

“Detono!” 

The wood boards are thrown inward, hailing splinters with a loud boom. The dank, mildewed air fans your sweaty face as you peer into a dark corridor. Shadowheart casts Light on her spear, and you hold fire in your palm as you make your way through the cramped alley with mindful steps until you come to a stone staircase that winds down. 

The shadows seem to stretch and distort along the stone walls ominously, and your footsteps echo throughout. It takes minutes to reach the bottom, where it finally opens up into a room with a dirt floor. There are dirty, hay-stuffed mattresses strewn about, but the room extends too far to see properly. 

You crouch as Shadowheart stops by your side. You hold your arm out to halt her and scan the earthy ground. “Traps.”  

Astarion taught you many things — identifying traps was one of them — but he laughed boisterously until tears shone in his eyes when you asked him to teach you how to disarm them. 

“Ah-no.” Astarion giggles mirthfully. The harder you scowl, the funnier he thinks it is.

“What?” You pout and shoot him the puppy eyes that you know he has a hard time refusing. “Please?”

Astarion smirks, leaning back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head. “You can look at me with your sad puppy eyes and precious pout all you like, darling. The answer is still no."

“Why not?” You snort. “Don’t you think it would be prudent for me to know? What if I get myself trapped somewhere?”

“Well, since I go where you go, I don’t see that being a problem.” Astarion grins handsomely, fangs peeking out from the perfect bow of his lips.

“You’re scared I’m going to blow myself up, aren’t you?”

“Scared?” He chuckles with a highly arched brow and a slight shake of his head. “No. I have no doubt you will blow yourself up. If you die, who is going to light the fire for me? Gods forbid I would have to return to doing it the old-fashioned way. With these nails? Truly a travesty."

“You know that I am well aware you can cast Fire Bolt, right? I mean, you don’t cast it well, but well enough to light the fire."

“Don’t cast it well? Hells below.” Astarion groans. “It’s a cantrip; there’s hardly any skill needed for such child's play. The same cannot be said about disarming traps. If you fuck that up, you die, and your dexterity is atrocious. I’ll leave the magic to you, and you leave the traps to me, yes?”

“Fine!” You relent, giving your foot a stomp because you know it will earn you another lilting giggle from him, and it’s somehow the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard. “I didn’t hear any complaints about my dexterity last night.”

"Sassy tonight, are we?" Astarion smiles, patting his lap. “Do you ever stop thinking about sex?”

“With you?” You settle with your legs at his hips and his hands around your waist. “Never.”

“Well, stop thinking and start doing, my sweet.” 

Returning at night is a dangerous prospect. You’ve been doing most of your scouting during the day and making sure you’re well within the safety of the manor long before twilight blankets the city. 

You sigh. “We will need to return with Astarion before we can proceed any further.” 

“Oh, goody!” Hecat squeals. “I cannot wait to see the vampire in action. That must truly be a real pleasure to see.” 

You close your eyes tightly, scrunching up your entire face with a white-knuckled grip on Markoheshkir. 

It would be so terrible if she tripped and fell into the traps. Wouldn't it? 

“That vampire has a name,” Shadowheart scolds with a surly intonation. “And you would do well to mind your tongue, or you’ll find yourself on the streets.” 

“Now, now,” Gale mewls in his too-cordial, assuaging intonation. “I’m sure Hecat didn’t mean to offend.” 

“I—“ Hecat trips over her own words. She tries to keep her voice steady, but you catch the faintest tremble of dread braided with embarrassment. The Tiefling doesn’t want to be left on the streets, it seems, but you cannot help but wonder if it’s all an act. “I didn’t mean to antagonize anyone. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Hecat grabs your arm, forcing you to turn and look at her. She pleads, “Especially you. Truly. My mouth can run a little brainlessly. I’m sorry.” 

She sounds sincere, and her eyes don’t radiate any ill-will. Guilt sneaks up on you like a shadowed figure, unnoticed until it’s standing behind you and smothering your conscience in its dark silhouette. This woman has been decent to you. In prison, she protected you from the riffraff and was essential to your escape; outside of it, she’s done nothing more than make obtuse comments and salivate over Astarion, but most people do the same when in his presence. 

You wonder idly if there is anything you can do to make him slightly less earth-shatteringly handsome — a moronic contemplation. Your best idea is that you could polymorph him into a sheep, but knowing him, he would find a way to make even that look good. 

Ridiculous, bafflingly beautiful man. 

With a lungful of musty air, you acquiesce and try to gag the mistrustfulness that has made its home in your bone marrow. “It's alright. Let's return home, and we can think about if we want to return here at night. We could be walking straight into a trap.” 

Astarion greets you, standing just shy of the sun flooding in from the door, having heard your approach. “Gods. You’re positively filthy. What in the Hells were you up to? You look like you’ve been rolling in dirt.” 

“What? Not going to give me a welcome back hug, lover?” You tease. 

“Bloody Hells no,” he taunts, quirking a brow at you with a mock disdainful grin. “You seriously cannot expect me to sully all of this with all of that.” He gestures wildly toward you. 

“I’m certain I recall you enjoying a little roll in the dirt once in a while.” You taunt, shimming your shoulders with a whimsical smile. 

“Good Gods, you two really haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Shadowheart chuckles, placing her spear on the weapon rack. “At least take it upstairs, will you?” 

Astarion smirks with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Gladly.” 

Hecat strolls past Astarion without even glancing his way, and you wonder if the woman has finally — fucking finally — taken the hint, but there is still a slight sway to her hips and the tip of her tail ghosts over his upper thigh. Whether it was done on purpose or by accident, there’s no way to tell. 

Astarion darts to the side at the unexpected contact, and his features contort in a knee-jerk response. He swallows hard, making his Adam’s apple bob, and you see it written in his eyes. 

Disgust. Loathing. All those feelings he tries so hard to forget. 

You seethe, your skin worming over your frame in a sea of flames, and you step forward with magic braced on your fingertips. Astarion slips in front of you and shakes his head in a silent plea to overlook it. It makes you physically ill, but you yield and stalk upstairs to your room to change into something less covered in muck. 

“Thank you,” Astarion murmurs. 

“For?” 

“I do love it when you act pig-headed,” he grunts, currying his fingers through his hair. “Hecat. I know you saw it, and I know you saw my reaction to it.” 

“She made you uncomfortable,” you hiss under your breath, tossing your dirty robe and trousers away aggressively. You want to say she is lucky to still have her life, and that is a godsdamned truth. Relax, you think. Astarion is capable of taking care of himself. He needs my support, not my ire. You take a deep breath and say, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, really,” Astarion laments, sitting on the bed with his hand on his forehead. “Not that you’re not aware of anyway. It was a spontaneous response to being touched in a way I wasn’t expecting, and perhaps a little too close to home, if you catch my drift, but I am not convinced it was purposeful.” 

Sometimes you wonder if you pushed him too hard in the Shadowlands when he confessed. Should you have backed off and been his friend instead of his lover? Is that what would’ve been better for him? In the moment, it felt right to hug him, but sometimes you look back and see it as a selfish thing to do when he was telling you he didn’t enjoy intimacy. 

Oh? Intimacy brings up feelings of disgust and loathing? Well, let me press my body right up against yours without asking!

Foolish fucking woman.

You cannot help but worry that you cause the same discomfort on occasion when you touch him unexpectedly. Though his issues surrounding affection are difficult for him to navigate, they are also undeniably demanding of you. Where you find solace in his touch, regardless of whether it’s expected or sudden, the same cannot be said about him, and it’s all too easy to misplace the mindfulness of that fact. 

How often do you touch him out of reflex and cause the same feelings to crop up? How many times has he ignored it and simply let it happen without saying a word? 

“Don’t.” Astarion pleads suddenly right in front of you, taking your hand and pressing it to his chest in the way he knows soothes you. His face and voice are a ledger to his anxiety. He blurts frantically. “Don’t pull away from me now. Don’t run from me. Please.”

In another lifetime, you would’ve asked the questions plaguing your mind without hesitation. You have memories of when communication was harmonious and uncomplicated. He would tell you when you were being an obstinate, pigheaded child, and you would tell him when he was being a haughty, old prick. 

And then he left me, you think, in the dead of night. 

That time is dead, buried in a graveyard of uncertainty and doubt. You’re beginning to trust him; day by day, it gets easier and a little less daunting, but will you ever be that confident in your relationship again? 

Astarion’s crimson eyes don’t leave yours, and his thumb sweeps across the back of your hand, the picture of patience. You allow your body to lean into him slowly so that he knows your intention — a gesture of comfort and reassurance that you aren’t going to race out the door like you’ve done on so many occasions. His response is unforced and natural, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight. 

“Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, my love.” He coos, soft and gentle, in that whisky-warm voice that allays your turbulent thoughts. “You can talk to me about anything.” 

You mull it over in your head, not completely sure that you can handle starting down this particular road. Quiet minutes stretch out between you. Astarion’s hand rubs slow circles across your back, but he does not press you further. 

“Do I ever make you feel like that?” You mutter against his chest, sheltered in his arms from whatever painful truths this ends with. “I forget sometimes to make my intentions to touch you obvious or known. I need you to remind me when I lapse.”  

“Oh, love, no.” Astarion smiles as you venture a glance up at him. He leans forward but halts inches above your lips, making you meet him halfway. You kiss him, your hand caressing his cheek. “When it’s just us, you needn’t be heedful of when or where you touch me, Kamena. You haven’t made me feel that way in some time, but if you ever do, I will tell you. I do not intend to keep anything from you again.” He reassures. 

“Okay.” You exhale heavily through your nose and try to relax the rigidity in your body. “I still get scared sometimes that you’re going to leave again, that I’ll wake up one morning and you’ll be gone.” 

“I know,” Astarion sighs, kissing your forehead. He takes your arms and gently guides them around his waist, encouraging you to touch his back with a steady gaze. When you hug him, you rarely wrap yourself around his waist, ever mindful of his back and scars. It is a show of how much he trusts you and how your touch does not bother him. “I know it will take time, and I will never stop trying, but do you think you will ever be able to trust me again?” 

“I’m trying,” you reply truthfully, even though it’s far more complex than that. You bury your face in his chest, finding it easier to confess when he isn’t staring at you with those eyes that impair your ability to speak honestly. “It just... it still hurts.” 

“I’m well aware. You mutter in your trance sometimes, begging me not to go or to come back.”

A flush of embarrassment tidal waves through you, pricking across your skin all the way to the tips of your ears. Hells. You knew you often woke up screaming, but you didn’t realize you were also talking during your rest.  

You wave it off, trying to play it as insignificant and something you can easily disregard. 

Astarion grabs your arm. His touch is gentle, but his expression is grave. “No. Don’t pretend it’s nothing when it is anything but.” 

You ground yourself and attempt to persuade him. “They are just dreams, Astarion. It’s really not— “ 

“Serious?” Astarion retorts, clearly a little irritated that you think you can manipulate him into believing this little white lie. “It is significant, Kamena. Those fears, the ones I caused, do not just infect your dreams; they bleed into the waking world as well. I see them on your face; endeavour to catch them before they latch on and take root; keep them at bay as much as I can.  

“I do not begrudge you, but don’t discount your residual pain.” Astarion looks askance, his eyes darkening like cloudy skies. “If you minimize it, then you also discard the effort I am putting in to dispel them and prove that I am here and I’m not going anywhere.” 

“I--" you stutter, trying to govern the impulse to keep cementing your suffering behind a wall and hope he doesn’t see it. Your throat feels dry all of a sudden. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I know this has been difficult for you as well. I didn’t mean to undervalue your efforts.”

Astarion’s eyes return to yours, full of hope and appreciation for acknowledging that you know he’s trying. “Thank you. Now, quit leaving me in this dreadful suspense. Did you find anything on your little expedition today?” 

You dig through your bag and hand him the diary. “Not much, but the place was glamoured like the bog, if you remember.” 

“Do you think my memory really that fickle?” Astarion scoffs while he pours over the pages. “I may not remember everything from two centuries ago, darling, but I vividly remember a couple years ago, especially your sun-kissed skin, rosy cheeks, and eyes that could slow galaxies. Though, I would have preferred if you had left that illusion in place.” 

“Perhaps it would have been more pleasant, but it was pretty funny to ��Baaa” at the Redcaps, no?” 

Astarion laughs. “You surprised me that day.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh yes,” Astarion simpers with a smug grin. “I did not expect you to bleat like a sheep so well — a flawless performance, truly.” 

“A flawless performance, truly,” you repeat, doing your best to imitate him with a mocking flair. 

“Sorceress.” His eyes swing up from the journal with a handsomely quirked brow. “Not half bad! You’re improving.” 

You giggle at his praise. “Do you still have armour and weapons, Rogue? Or do we need to go on a thieving spree?” 

That gets his full attention, and Astarion’s head jerks up. “I would never say no to a night of splendid depravity, but I do indeed still have my armour and weapons. Why?” 

“There’s a basement positively brimming with traps that need disarming.” 

“Hm, well, now I kind of wish I picked the thieving spree.” Astarion pouts. “Disarming traps all night sounds like much less fun.” 

“You could always teach me how,” you taunt. 

“This again? Gods.” Astarion groans, smoothing his hand down his face, exasperated. “The answer will be no until the end of time, sweetheart, but nice try.” 

“You suck sometimes.” 

Astarion laughs, saunters over, and folds his arms around you. He presses the sculpted muscles of his chest against your back and kisses your neck, tracing his lips up the column. “I am a man of many talents. I suck, bite, and lick, if you ask nicely enough, love.” 

“Please.” 

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

Approaching the derelict estate slowly, Astarion’s eyes flit about the shadows as he methodically scans every concealed corner. He holds out a hand, halting you and Shadowheart at the archway, and listens. You and Shadowheart know this routine well, and you stand muted and motionless until Astarion indicates otherwise. 

“I don’t hear or smell anything out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean they are not waiting downwind or out of sight.” 

“You don’t say.” Shadowheart snickers satirically. “I would never have guessed that. Thank you, Astarion, for your impressive observations.” 

“You’re very welcome, flower.” Astarion drawls with a boyish grin. 

It feels like old times watching Astarion in his strikingly etched, black leather armour with gold stitching and buckles. Shadowheart still wears the Adamantine armour from your travels, but it’s been dyed sky blue, white, and gold. You adorn Wavemother’s robe, dyed deep lilac, orange, and black. The chains have been altered to include dragons that appear to soar up your chest.  

It is, unsurprisingly, Astarion’s favourite among your robes. 

Brandishing Markoheshkir with a flourish, you keep the Weave poised at your fingertips as you make your way inside. 

“Do you think I could have a little look around?” Astarion asks, looking at you for permission as if you were still the leader of the ragtag group of misfits. “Perhaps I will find something you… overlooked.” 

“Missed,” you grunt. “You want to look for things we might have missed. Be my guest, but if you’re looking for valuables to steal, Hecat already pocketed them all.” 

Astarion nods, strolling off to pick through the ruins of someone’s life long since dead and turned to bone dust. Your fingers pass over dainty figurines that are chipped, dulled, and antiquated. 

“How did you get Hecat to stay behind?” Shadowheart asks. 

“I don’t know if you remember, but I can be exceptionally persuasive, and if that fails, intimidating.” 

“Oh,” Shadowheart picks up a tattered book, tossing it aside. “How could I ever forget your silver tongue? It got us into and out of so many situations.” 

“Didn’t it?”  

“Who do you think these people were?” Shadowheart’s brows furrow. “They were obviously affluent and left in a hurry, but people with this type of money don’t tend to just go missing without notice.” 

“Left, taken, or were killed.” You cast Light on your quarterstaff to illuminate the gloomy space and peer around. 

“Killed,” Astarion concludes, descending the stairs with silent but rapid steps. “Massacred really.” 

“How do you know?” Shadowheart frowns. 

“Come now. Need I remind you that I’m a vampire?” Astarion crouches, sweeping away the layers of grime to reveal tenebrous, old floorboards. He twitches his fingers at you, and you toss him your glowing quarterstaff. He hovers it above the cleared patch and gestures toward an almost invisible discoloration. “Blood,” he concludes. “Very, very old, but blood nonetheless. It’s positively hither and yon in this place.” 

“Hither and yon?” Shadowheart giggles. “Hells below. I do forget how old you are.” 

“Curious.” Astarion arches a brow at her with a dastardly gleam in his nebulously red eyes. “I never forget how much of a child you are.” 

Shadowheart scoffs indignantly, her arms crossing with a scowl. 

Astarion chuckles, spinning Markoheshkir like he would his daggers, and then handing it to you. “Well, shall we head down into whatever horrors await us? You’ve only paid for my services until dawn, sorceress. It will cost you extra if I have to make an additional visit to this hellhole.” 

“I don’t know if I can afford your fee, Rogue.” 

Astarion pivots on his heel, tugging you by the waist into a chaste kiss with a knavish grin. “I am positive we can work something out, love.” 

Shadowheart grunts her displeasure, making Astarion smile against your lips. You give him a playful shove away and point. “I’m not paying you to stand around.” 

“Oh,” Astarion murmurs with a wink. “I do like it when you take charge and boss me around.” 

Descending the stairs is even more imposing with the knowledge that you could be walking straight into a trap. The drum of your heartbeat spikes, and your breathing starts to quicken. Astarion glances back with a nod that tells you he still hasn’t detected anything unusual lurking in the abyssal depths. He offers you his hand, and you take it gladly. 

At the bottom, you, Shadowheart, and Astarion all shuffle into the minimal space that Astarion indicates as a safe zone. Each of you tries peering into the nethermost bowels of the basement, but the shadows are far too thick. Even the Light emanating from Markoheshkir is hardly enough to brighten the vicinity around the three of you. 

Shadowheart stares at the ground with a mix of trepidation and hesitancy. “Can you disarm traps in such low light, Astarion? Safely, I mean. I rather like my limbs attached to my body.”

“Not all traps are bombs, my dear.” He drawls nonchalantly, taking your staff and holding it out over the ground. “And these are an invigorating mix between acid and explosives. Hmm. If the acid is combustible, we would be in for quite the show. Not to worry. I can defuse these in my sleep. However, I’ll need some light, so Kamena, you need to stick close to me and step only where I indicate, understand?” 

“Are you sure?” You ask, gripping his arm. 

“If I was not sure, I would not have you follow me. I would never put you in danger.” Astarion assures with his eyes anchored on you, covering your hand with his own. “Do you trust me, Kamena?” 

A nod to your earlier conversation where you admitted you’re still afraid he’s going to leave. You meet his gaze resolutely. “I trust you. Lead on.” 

Astarion leads you through the tangle of traps, pointing where to place your feet. With Markoheshkir gleaming and slung across your back, you let fire hover in your palm at a distance Astarion deems safe and impel the element to burn white-hot. It is, admittedly, an excessive expenditure of your sorcery. 

Even with Astarion’s mastery, it’s a slow-going process. There are far more traps than you were able to perceive at first glance, and the room extends further back than you anticipated. It seems every time Astarion has you proceed, you get naught more than a couple of shuffling steps before he’s crouching over another trap lying in wait for a careless foot. You glance back at Shadowheart, who has cast her own weapon with Light and call back to make sure she’s safe. 

“Tell Astarion to bloody hurry up!” She grunts. “I think he’s out of practice.” 

Astarion rolls his eyes, groaning under his breath as he fiddles with the device before him. You watch the deftness of his fingers as he makes short work of the mechanisms. It’s obvious why he refuses to teach you this particular skill. You wouldn’t possess enough patience or adroitness to perform this task. How Astarion knows which wires to cut, levers to adjust, or shells to remove is a mystery to you. They all appear different visually. 

“She knows I can hear her, yes?” Astarion grumbles, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

“She knows. Are you getting tired? We could take a break.” 

“Tired?” Astarion quirks a brow at you with a frown. “What gives you that impression?” 

“You’re sweating,” you reply bluntly. 

“Yes,” he says snidely. “You are hovering a white-hot orb of flame over my head.” 

“Why didn’t you just say something?” You scold him, trying to hide embarrassment. You know you’re being overzealous with the brightness. “I think I can coerce it to burn cooler.” 

It’s an utter certainty that you can; fire is in your blood, and it bows to you, but it will require more endurance. As adept as you are, power is not limitless. 

“I didn’t say anything because it’s kind of like being in the sun again, Solicallor.” He smiles authentically, but there is a sadness behind it that he doesn’t try to hide. 

He misses the sun.  

You nod your understanding, but still focus on marginally reducing the heat. 

“How did you learn this?” You blurt out the question that’s been whirring around your mind since you started watching him. 

You can’t imagine a magistrate would have much use for this, even a crooked one. Picking locks, absolutely, but this?  

“Books at first.” 

“Books?” 

“Yes, darling, books. You know those things with paper and words all bound together? Books.” He teases. 

“Ha-ha.” You say flatly. “I meant it more like you can learn this from books?” 

“The basic principles of it anyway.” Astarion nods. “The application of them requires a little more hands-on experience.” 

“There is not much to do during the day when you’re a vampire, besides trance, so I would read.” He glances up at you. “At night, after my orders were completed, I would peruse the city and disarm every trap I found. I blew myself up, poisoned myself, and had my skin eaten away by acid plenty of times before I got it right. Cazador would get positively peeved when I returned injured. It was good fun. Looking back at it now, I think I was trying to get myself killed, either by the traps themselves or Cazador.” 

He seems bemused by the whole reminiscence, and you’re trying to decide whether to be horrified or not.

“Vampire spawn are obnoxiously hard to kill.” He muses thoughtfully. “I think that’s the last of them.” He stands, eyeing the ground and looking for anything he might have missed. He reaches for the quarterstaff draped across your back. “May I?” 

You nod, and he takes it. He instructs briskly. “Stay here. I’m going to double check.” 

“Astarion…” 

Astarion squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “If one of these things blows up on me, I will survive — a little blood and I’ll be right as rain — but if one blows up on you, it could kill you, and I would never be able to forgive myself. Please don’t be mulish for once. I will be right back, and you’re more than welcome to continue scowling at me.” 

You huff, rubbing your forehead. “Fine.” 

Astarion strolls off confidently while you mutter under your breath, keeping the fire in your palm animated mostly for the solace it provides. You observe Astarion’s movements only by the lambency of Markoheshkir bobbing around in the dark like a dancing spectre. 

He returns, calling out to Shadowheart to let her know it’s safe to move about. 

“Should we spread out and search, or should we stick together?” Shadowheart asks, directed at you. “How big is this place?” 

“I’m not sure.” Spreading out doesn’t sit well with you when you don’t know what could be skulking around in the darkness, but time is also of the essence, and it would be more efficient. You find yourself giving instructions, falling back into the leader role you so loathed. “Spread out, but always keep each other in sight. We can work our way down systematically.” 

You recast Light on one of Astarion’s daggers, making the spell keeping Markoheshkir aglow fade. Astarion opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. “I have fire. I don’t need it.” 

It surprises you when Astarion merely nods and concedes. He knows well enough that there’s nothing he can say to change your mind, and it’s a pointless venture to try. 

You can veritably hear him in your head calling you pig-headed, and you smirk to yourself as you start combing through the space. Mattresses litter the ground, stained and soiled. Pieces of loose paper, utensils, cracked or broken dinnerware, and sometimes stuffed animals are scattered around chaotically. 

When you finally get to a wall, it’s just plain bedrock. This place is more of a cavern than a basement. Droplets of water dribble down the stone, and gnarled roots reach out from the ceiling like spindly fingers. You swallow hard when you come across sets of rusty shackles and bindings affixed to the walls, nailed straight into the stone. A shiver runs down your spine; whether it’s from being cold or your increasing disquietude, you’re unsure. 

It may have been prudent to wear a thicker robe.  

You, Shadowheart, and Astarion don’t need to communicate much as you work your way through foot by foot. It takes little more than a glance or a curt nod for any of you to indicate you’ve found nothing and it’s time to proceed.

The nostalgia is equal parts wonderful and unnerving. You cannot deny that you enjoy having a clear goal — the danger and exhilaration of peril — but the small voice of reason affirms that this, too, is another way of running from yourself.

Barrelling headfirst into hazards gives you something to focus on instead of facing the fact that something within you is broken, perhaps beyond repair, and you don’t have to admit to yourself the thing you fear most — that you will never be able to trust Astarion again and any chance of a real relationship is fated to fail. 

Can you go to bed every night terrified that when you wake, he will not be there? Can you spend the rest of your days wondering if today is the day he disappears? 

Furthermore, is it fair to keep him with you if you’ll always doubt him? 

Your inability to let your fears go and move forward affects him just as much as it affects you. Would he be better off finding someone else — someone who can be with him without reservations, someone who can love him completely and utterly without worry. 

He deserves that, the kind of love you had for him before, and you’re not sure you will ever be able to get back to it. 

“Kamena!” Astarion hollers with a too-high, almost panicked timbre that rips you from your contemplations. 

You lunge into a sprint, Shadowheart following closely behind, both of you with spells already sparking on your fingertips, and Markoheshkir poised by your side. In your alarm, your mastery of your dragon Hellfire slips, and flames writhe over your body like a nest of molten serpents wrestling to escape.

Astarion is standing by a dilapidated desk, with moss growing over the surface and up the tottery legs. He holds a piece of wet parchment in his hands that he’s inspecting with a dismayed look. 

He hands it to you when the flames around you wane. “Recognize these?” 

The red ink has been smudged and streaks down the parchment like crimson tears, but you would know these markings anywhere. You’ve been trailing your fingers over similar ones every night. 

Infernal script.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

Shadowheart is the best ❤️

Infernal script - rarely a good sign.

Still wanna know your thoughts on Hecat!

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Who am I, that I should get to hold you? (ao3)

Happy @cassianappreciationweek !!! ❤️

When Elain throws a ball to celebrate her recent engagement to Greysen, there's nothing she wants more than for Feyre to attend. To keep the newly-Made Feyre safe beneath the wall, the General of the Night Court is resolved to attend too, planning only to observe the party from a distance. But when the irascible Nesta Archeron makes her entrance, Cassian's resolve crumbles and over the course of a single dance, he finds out that perhaps Nesta was always destined to be so much more than he bargained for. ACOMAF AU.

I don’t know how or why, who am I that I should get to hold you? When I saw you all alone against the sky, it’s like I’d known you all along. I knew you before we met, and I don’t even know you yet. All I know is you're someone I have always known...

It was such an innocuous thing, the little envelope sitting pretty on Rhys’ desk. Such a small thing too, to cause such a damned headache. The sunlight pooled around it, making the barely-cracked wax seal shimmer in the afternoon glow, and all Cassian could smell was lilies, sweet and cloying and clinging, stubborn, to the paper. He made no effort to hide the way he studied that envelope and the letter that had only been half tucked back inside after the High Lord had read it aloud, and even from his position on the other side of Rhys’ expansive mahogany desk, Cassian could see the dark, cursive ink spelling out the Cursebreaker’s name. And yet still he was trying to make sense of what Rhys had just said— the plan he’d just unveiled. Feyre, the letter said at the top, in a hand so elegant it swept gracefully across the page, please find enclosed an invitation… The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the mantlepiece, a steady tick, tick, tick that measured the seconds it took for Cassian to find his voice. “I’m sorry— you’re what?” the General asked, a huff of displeasure leaving him as he eyed that envelope with narrowed eyes, barely able to swallow around the sheer disbelief lining his throat. “Because I swear it sounded like you just said you were going to a ball in the mortal lands.”

Beside him, Azriel let out a sound of consternation that was echoed in the whisper of his shadows along his knuckles, curled tight on the arm of his chair. When Cassian turned to his brother, he saw the Shadowsinger’s face etched with the same apprehension that he knew would be carved across his own, the same furrow in his brow as he looked at that invitation sitting so innocently between them and their High Lord. Rhys ran a hand through his raven hair. “Elain is throwing a ball for her engagement, and she asked Feyre to be there. She wants her there, and Feyre is determined to attend.” He shrugged, like they were discussing something as simple as the weather. “All she needs is a simple glamour to make her appear human—“ “Simple,” Cassian muttered. “Like two fae walking into a society gathering below the wall could ever be called simple.” Rhys shot his brother a glare, but continued speaking like Cassian hadn’t interrupted at all. “But I’d rather not risk Feyre having to hold up such a glamour by herself so soon after becoming fae. So I’m going with her.”

Cassian scowled, folding his arms across his chest as his brows lowered. “You’re going to a ball in the human lands,” he said, deadpan. When Rhys nodded lightly, he added, “A ball in the human lands where half the guests are fae-hating bastards.”

“Fae-hating bastards that grow ash trees in their gardens,” Azriel added, in a voice so acerbically dry that anyone outside of Rhys’ Inner Circle might have fucking flinched. “Let’s not forget that part.”

“One fae-hating bastard grows ash trees in his garden,” Rhys pointed out easily, lifting one elegant finger and reclining in his chair like this was the most perfectly normal conversation they’d ever had. The sunlight drifted along his jaw, illuminating his violet eyes, and not for the first time in five hundred years did Cassian want to leap over that desk and knock some damned sense into him. 

“One is more than enough,” Azriel muttered as Cassian nodded his agreement. Neither of them felt the need to mention that the fae-hating bastard in question was the future bride’s father-in-law, and the fact that Elain wore a fucking iron engagement ring on her finger went unspoken. It was the most reckless idea Rhys could have concocted, and yet the High Lord sat so easily in his high-backed chair, his wings tucked away today, and looked at his brothers with barely a glimmer of unease in his eyes as he revealed his grand plan.

A grand plan that amounted to nothing more than a single fucking glamour.

When Rhys said nothing, Cassian sighed so heavily his chest hurt.

“Well, obviously we’re coming with you.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, tipping his head back until the crown rested against the carved wooden headrest. “Because that won’t attract attention.” He shook his head, strands of raven hair falling across his forehead. “No— you two should stay here.”

Az snorted. “We’re just as adept as you at holding up a glamour, Rhys. You cover Feyre’s back, and we’ll cover yours.”

The High Lord’s lip twisted. 

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d been below the wall. Only a handful of weeks ago they’d descended on the Archeron manor and had the pleasure of meeting Feyre’s sisters. Or the pleasure of meeting one of them, at least. Elain had been charming and welcoming, practically glittering beneath the candles that illuminated her father’s dining room, but Nesta on the other hand…

Cassian shifted in his seat, refusing for what must have been the hundredth time since that meeting to let his thoughts drift to the other Archeron sister. Somehow, she’d incited him at that first meeting, stirred him to anger with naught more than a look, and he didn’t think that the flame she’d lit within him had been extinguished just yet. 

That same night Rhys had insisted they stay in adjacent rooms, entirely unwilling to be parted in such unfamiliar territory, and Cassian had understood it, back then. Yet now Rhys wanted to dive right into a society ball with only his own glamour to protect him and Feyre both, and Cassian wasn’t sure it was a good idea for any of them to be returning beneath the wall so soon. 

Nesta might have his fucking head this time. 

He wondered if she knew Elain had sent the invitation. Wondered if those storm-blue eyes would spark when she watched them enter the Archeron ballroom, like her temper was a match and Cassian was a flame. Something about the thought of it enticed him— the way the space between them was sure to become a battlefield, and if there was one thing Cassian knew intimately, it was a battlefield. Anticipation flickered deep in his veins, a whisper in his blood, and gods, somehow that made the whole thing worse.

He’d thought it was a bad idea before, but when that feeling of anticipation skittered up his spine as he thought of golden-brown hair and a scowl that could floor a man, he knew with absolute certainty that it wasn’t just a bad idea— it was a terrible one. 

But if Feyre was determined, then Rhys was resolved. And if Rhys was resolved, then…

There was no question. 

Rising to his feet with another sigh, Cassian leaned forward and braced his palms on his brother’s desk. Rhys looked up, entirely nonplussed.

“You’d better tell Elain to expect the four of us,” Cassian said, flicking his eyes to the invitation still lying, almost harmless, between them.

Rhys rolled his eyes again. “I can handle this myself, you know.”

Azriel unfolded from his chair, his shadows whispering across his arms and winding around his neck as he sidestepped the desk entirely. “Sure you can, Rhys,” he commented flatly, plucking up the invitation and holding it between his fingers with a frown. With a dry glance to Cassian, the spymaster tossed the damned thing to his High Lord before he echoed, “Tell Elain to expect the four of us.”

***

Cassian’s chest was tight as they entered the Archeron manor.

Behind his glamour he felt his siphons flickering, rippling with unease as he eyed the great vases of flowers that had been placed in the entrance hall— towering blooms and overflowing stone urns, the entire space filled with the delicate scent of peonies and roses. From the ballroom down the hall, the sound of a string quartet echoed. It was all so staggeringly pretty, and yet…

Dangerous, too.

The candles glimmered as Elain greeted them warmly, the priceless pearls at her ears and at her throat such a stark contrast to the dark band of iron around her finger. Draped in a dress of pale pink silk that brought out the blush on her cheeks, it was almost easy to forget that they were walking into a party where half the guests would have their heads on spikes if they learned of what they were. No matter that each of them were shrouded in a glamour; Rhys and Feyre’s ears were made round, and Azriel and Cassian’s wings had been rendered invisible, but it didn’t feel right. Not natural. 

Cassian had even smoothed his fingers through his hair, and though he was wearing a richly tailored black shirt, there was no finery on him. The only jewellery he sported was the earrings in his ear, a thin silver ring and a small ruby the same shade as the siphons he’d concealed behind his glamour, since he had no doubt that the shimmering stones would have earned him more than a few curious looks from Elain’s guests. Azriel was the same, dressed in the deepest black, his shadows hidden from prying eyes. Neither had any intention of being anything but silent sentinels tonight, already having decided to overlook the party from the mezzanine that ran along the west wall of the ballroom. 

Rhys, at least, had donned a fine black jacket with embroidered detailing, and the rings on each of his fingers marked him as one of the elite, even if not one of this elite. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you could come, Feyre,” Elain said as she wrapped her arms around her sister. She was a vision in pink, practically glowing beneath the candles, but that ring on her finger seemed to swallow the light— a mark against such a pretty canvas.

And—

There was no sign of Nesta Archeron.

The part of him that hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way her lip had curled when she’d looked at him across that dinner table almost wanted to ask where she was. 

Almost.

He reined it in, but still— even as Elain ushered them further into the entrance hall, Cassian couldn’t even begin to explain the unease that coursed through him like a tide rising against the shore. It licked at his edges, had all of his senses on high alert as he tried and failed to pin down exactly what it was that had him feeling like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, about to topple over. That tightness behind his ribs seemed to constrict further, a kind of pressure that he didn’t know how to release, and there was something he could feel right down in the tips of his fingers, something pricking at his skin that seemed to be… anticipating something.

Like there was something he was missing, something he’d overlooked. That his mind couldn’t place but his soul had recognised. 

He shook it off.

Perhaps it was just the fact that he was below the wall, and that odd combination of the magic dulling his senses combined with his trepidation about being here in the first place had begun to coalesce in his gut, transforming into something heavy. He only wished he’d brought his sword, wished he’d strapped it down his spine and covered it with the same glamour that masked his wings. 

But he hadn’t, he’d only tucked a blade in his boot. 

That single blade was a solid weight against him as Elain led them to the ballroom, the cold steel a touch reassuring as with every footstep she followed the sound of the orchestra and the delicate clinking of crystal glasses. Cassian let himself sink into his role as General, that calculating mind already scanning the room for exits and entrances, counting the number of windows and trying to catch a glimpse of iron jewellery at the neck or wrist of every single person attending Elain’s engagement ball.

And he watched as every single eye in the place turned wide when Feyre entered, glittering, hung on Rhys’ arm. 

They’d patched a story together, some feeble kind of excuse that might explain who the dark-haired stranger was standing by Feyre’s side; Rhys was a nobleman visiting from the continent, they’d decided, whose business had him staying in the town they all believed Feyre lived in now. They’d become fast friends, the story went, and when Feyre had mentioned that she needed an escort for a ball, Rhys had been all too happy to oblige. 

Neither Cassian nor Azriel had bothered to concoct a story to explain their own presence. They’d hardly be mingling.

No, they would be stood up on that mezzanine, keeping watch over their High Lord and the girl he was so clearly enamoured by, separated from the party by a good distance.

Without a word shared between them, Cassian and Azriel slipped away, as smoothly as a tide drawing back from the shore. With only the most subtle of nods from Rhys, they turned in tandem for a half-concealed staircase that Elain had already told them led upstairs to the second floor, where a balcony wrapped around the edge of the ballroom, and as the cream of human society mingled and danced and laughed around them, the Illyrians hidden in their midst took up their positions above it all, watching as the wine flowed freely. Cassian’s eye was sharp— as cutting as the diamonds and emeralds that were strung, glittering, around countless throats, and as smooth as the rolls upon rolls worth of expensive silk that brushed the marble floor as couples danced. Beneath the candlelight dripping from the crystal chandeliers, wealth was pooling in the Archeron manor, and Cassian observed it all.

And yet— Elain’s fiancé was nowhere to be seen.

Neither, Cassian noted, was Nesta. 

He didn’t know why he thought of Elain’s sister. Didn’t know why he even cared.

Didn’t know why he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her since they’d last met either, but he’d found himself, in the time since, drifting back to that dining table and the venom she’d spat at him, the vitriol he’d thrown right back. Like she was a splinter, buried deep beneath his skin, and every time he tried to drive her out, all he’d done was push her deeper.

Shaking his head, he reached decidedly for the crystal flutes of sparkling wine laid out on a nearby table. Plucking two up, he handed one off to Azriel before lifting the other to his lips. 

“Might as well get something good from tonight,” he grumbled, leaning against the elegant filigree railing that ran around the edge of the mezzanine. Azriel huffed his agreement, and even though his shadows were glamoured, Cassian noted the way Az lifted and curled his fingers, like he was letting them trail, unseen, across the backs of his hands. Keeping them close as he rested his forearms on the edge of the railing. 

The Shadowsinger watched the ballroom warily, his lips pursed even as he took a small sip of wine, a soft hmph his only response. Below, the precious stones practically dripping from Feyre’s dress caught Cassian’s eye— shards of deep purple gems sewn into fabric that was pure Night Court fashion, gleaming beneath the warm lights like Rhys had brought down the night sky itself, imbued each and every stone with the light of a hundred stars. Cassian couldn’t help but wonder if it was deliberate, bringing Feyre to her sister’s engagement in Night Court clothes.

He snorted into his wine. 

Rhys had long ago stopped being subtle when it came to Feyre Cursebreaker.

Cassian leaned on the iron railing, letting his fingers hang off the edge as he went back to scanning the room, his ears straining for any whispers about Elain’s sister and the stranger she’d turned up with. There was nothing, no hint of suspicion as Feyre smiled and bent her head in greeting, as Rhys plastered a smooth smile on his face. Cassian blinked, lifting his wine halfway to his lips when— 

Across the room a door opened, and the eldest Archeron appeared at the top of a staircase. 

Cassian stilled.

The music didn’t pause, the candles didn’t flicker. But that pressure in his chest pushed against his ribs, harder this time— so hard he almost couldn’t breathe. 

Nesta swept down those stairs as elegantly as if she’d been born to it, and the wine was entirely forgotten as he stood up straighter to watch as she descended like a queen onto the ballroom floor.

In a dress of pale blue silk, the candlelight was already dancing across her skin, gilding her beneath a hundred different flames as she kept one hand on the curving bannister, the other curled lightly at her side, lithe fingers devoid of jewels. The bare skin at her neck was practically glowing, but Nesta wasn’t weighed down by a casket-load of precious gems. Only a thin diamond necklace skimmed her throat, and delicate silver earrings hung from her earlobes, and even as she joined the crowd of people literally drowning in diamonds and pearls and emeralds…

Somehow, Nesta was the most elegant of them all.

Cassian cleared his throat, sipping his wine when he remembered he still held a glass.

He was fairly sure his jaw had slackened the moment she stepped into the room, like he couldn’t control the way she had him so suddenly stunned, and it didn’t make sense. He’d met her before, and she hated him. So why did it feel like he stopped hearing everything else when he saw her dressed like that, with the candlelight grazing her cheekbones and shining, reflected, in her mercury-blue eyes? 

Smoothly Nesta navigated the ballroom below, and for a moment Cassian forgot where he was, what he was supposed to be doing. Forgot who he was, what his name was. 

Who the fuck was he anymore, he thought dryly as he found himself unable to pull his eyes away, but a man reduced to nothing at the sight of a beautiful woman?

Because there was no denying it.

Nesta Archeron was beautiful, and though he hadn’t exactly failed to notice it the first time they had met, something felt… different, tonight. Something in his chest tightened, like a screw turning, and even though he didn’t know her, not really, he still felt something about her speaking to him even across the vastness of that ballroom. There was some spark of recognition in his marrow as she made her way across the floor below, some curious kind of heat he’d ignored the last time he’d been here.

He watched her— anticipated her every step like it was one she’d made before. Like it was one he’d watched her make before. 

It was impossible, but Cassian could have sworn, tonight, that he’d known her forever. That she’d been there all along, her face tucked inside some corner of his memory all these long years.

It was impossible - impossible - but Mother above, tonight Cassian felt like he’d known her his entire life.

Stunned, he watched her walk across the floor like she owned it.

She did, he supposed. It was her father’s.

And when the first human approached her to ask her for a dance, Cassian didn’t fully understand why his fingers tightened around the wine he’d once again forgotten he was holding. He watched the score of men panting after her, lingering around her like they were all half a moment away from getting on their knees to beg for her next dance, and he didn’t know why, but something about it made him feel…

He shook his head, refusing to name the feeling snaking through him like oil.

Cassian was not jealous.

Absolutely, categorically, not fucking jealous of some mortal men simpering for a dance with Nesta fucking Archeron. 

And yet...

When she accepted an offer, the sight of her in the arms of another man had his heart tightening, like an invisible fist had plunged through his chest and gripped it until it hurt. The man she danced with was slim and blonde, dressed in navy blue, his pale hand drifting down her spine to settle at her lower back, fingers splayed at the small of her spine, and suddenly Cassian had an overwhelming urge to break those fingers— to snap every single one. 

There was something magnetic, something fucking alchemical, in the way she moved through the steps, turning something he’d thought might be dull and boring into something so wildly beautiful he couldn’t keep his head straight. Her every step was one of such stunning command that Cassian couldn’t help but be reminded of a game of chess; each move was one of elegant strategy, beautifully executed and perfectly finished. Every damned line of her was impeccable. 

And yet her face was impassive, like none of the partners that had so far scrawled their name on her dance card were up to her standards. The music died, the dance ended, and as she slipped from the embrace of the blonde-haired human, Cassian watched as mortal men pawed at her as she passed them, their hands extended, trying to grasp her by the arm, to catch her like she was a creature to be tamed. 

Something primal, some base instinct buried deep inside him, strained when Nesta suddenly stopped moving across that dance floor— some fundamental fae instinct turning wild as some reed-thin mortal grasped her upper arm, bringing her to a halt as his fingers dug into her flesh. 

And all Cassian could think was,

I think the fuck not.

Draining his wine, he handed the empty glass to Azriel, and without bothering to second guess it, or to even take note of the way Azriel shot him a curious look, Cassian tucked his wings as tight to his spine as he could and slipped down the stairs, each footfall a drumbeat that had his siphons gleaming unseen. 

The ballroom was a blur; he didn’t hear the music anymore, or the clink of crystal glasses, or the sound of laughter like the peals of a hundred church bells. Every ounce of focus he possessed was trained on her, on the way the mortal’s hand was still tight on Nesta’s arm as they lingered at the edge of the dance floor, his mouth close to her ear, and even over the noise Cassian heard her tell him no.

That single word - short and sharp and bitten out in a tone so entirely Nesta it practically had claws - had Cassian seeing red, his hands already curling into fists.

He was already wondering how angry Elain might be if he was to ruin her party and throw the bastard out of one of the upstairs windows. 

And he did little to temper his strength, didn’t bother to dampen his ire as, hard, he brought his hand down on the mortal’s shoulder. His fingers curled, unforgiving, into the bastard’s flesh, his grip hard enough that bones threatened to shatter beneath his fingers, and a sound of pain whispered from between the human’s lips. Some brutal instinct unfurled in Cassian’s chest, rising to the surface as he jerked the mortal back a step, forcing space between his body and Nesta’s, pulling his scent away from hers with a tug so forceful the bastard stumbled.

Violence pricked at Cassian’s fingers, begging to be unleashed. 

“I think the lady just said no,” Cassian said smoothly, but his voice was as hard as flint and filled with enough venom to make most tremble. He could already smell the mortal’s fear, and it was fucking beautiful. Cassian let his lip curl as the mortal turned, let his fingers leave bruises behind as a sneer crossed his face and he shoved the human away. He kept his glamour woven tight, but for just a second - just a heartbeat - he let a sliver of the Night Court General darken his face, let the Lord of Bloodshed flicker across his features. 

It was a wicked slash of teeth; a quirk of his brow and a spark in his eyes that he knew was a fleeting portrait of brutality, five centuries of rage honed to a deadly point. 

The bastard paled.

“Leave,” Cassian hissed.

The mortal stumbled back, giving Nesta one final look over his shoulder, loaded with contempt, before slipping through the crowd. In his wake, Cassian’s thundering heart calmed, his racing blood cooling as he took a breath, smoothing a hand over his hair as he ran his fingers through the tangled mass. When he turned to Nesta, to find her scowling after the mortal that Cassian had all but chased away, he couldn’t help the grin that swallowed every ounce of ire he’d just felt churning in his gut. Like that scowl alone was enough to have him forgetting everything else, his aching soul becalmed. Those damned eyes of hers narrowed, her gaze so lethally sharp it was a rival for the blade hidden in his boot, and something behind his ribs grew warm as he stood there, waiting for her to speak.

But Nesta Archeron remained silent.

So holding out his hand, smoothly Cassian slipped into the space the bastard had just left and said,

“How about a dance, Nes?”

The Mother only knew why he did it— why he felt like to turn towards her now would be like turning his face towards the sun on a midwinter’s morn. All he knew was that he was pulled towards her somehow, a moth to a flame. And oh, how decadently she burned. The diamonds at her neck glittered beneath the candlelight, but they paled in comparison to their wearer; no jewel was sharper or brighter or more rare than her, and when she scowled at him, he thought that might have been the most priceless thing of all. 

“My dance card is full.”

Cassian cocked a brow. “Liar.”

Nesta’s eyes widened, but he heard the way her heartbeat tripped a little. She looked at him like she wanted rid of him, but something lurked, silent, beneath the ire in her gaze. Something that said she might just want to bring him a little closer, too. 

“Do you even know how to dance at a ball?” Her tone dripped with bitter sarcasm, biting and sharp and damn near venomous as she lifted her chin in a move that was nothing short of defiant. It was somehow even more beautiful than the way she’d descended those stairs. “It’s not something I would have thought they’d teach above the wall.”

Cassian shrugged. Thanked the Mother for all those nights Mor had practically pushed him into dancing with her at Rita’s. He might not know these steps, but he was a fast learner, and Nesta certainly knew well enough to lead him.

His hand still extended, he watched as Nesta’s eyes dropped to his palm, her gaze skipping across the fingers he left curling loose towards her, as though, despite everything, all he’d ever needed was for her to take his hand and show him the way. 

“Aren’t you even a little curious, sweetheart?” he whispered, a quiet taunt that had her eyes sparking like a match against touch paper. “I could be the best dance partner in this room for all you know.”

“And are you?” she asked dryly, but she didn’t back away, and he didn’t drop his hand.

“No,” Cassian answered with another grin, and this time— gods, this time he swore an answering smirk tugged at the corner of Nesta’s mouth, like she almost wanted to smile too. “Perhaps you need to show me how it’s done.”

A derisive laugh slipped free of her, one that had Cassian standing straighter, pushing back his shoulders as she met his eyes. Some kind of challenge was proffered when his gaze connected with hers— a question and an answer. And when the band struck up their next melody, Cassian felt the smooth tips of Nesta’s fingers slide across his palm, joining their hands together as she pulled him onto the ballroom floor.

He’d stopped keeping track of Rhys. 

It was an abysmal oversight, especially since he’d been the one to insist he come along to watch Rhys’ back, but when his lungs were filled with the scent of Nesta Archeron’s perfume…

Cassian was certain Rhys could take care of himself.

Nesta took a step back, keeping their hands just barely connected as she extended her arm, stretching away from him as the music swept her along. But her eyes remained fixed on him, on the wings he kept tucked so close to his spine it was almost uncomfortable.

“The wings,” she whispered when the dance brought them closer, her palm flat against his chest. “You’re certain they’re hidden away?”

Cassian tilted his head. “Of course they are. Does it look like anybody here can see them?”

Nesta looked him right in the eye, her face impassive as she shrugged. “Well, I can.”

He could have sworn the world suddenly hung off its axis, gravity shifting as his steps slowed. 

She could see through a fucking glamour.

His mouth was dry, his mind reeling as desperately he tried to make sense of it all, and yet despite the thousand questions running rampant through his mind, the only thing he could think was: this fucking woman.

The music suddenly felt distant.

He didn’t know where it had come from, but suddenly his body was aware of hers in a way it had never been before— not with anybody. She was warm beneath his hands, her waist in his palm, his fingers stretched across her back, like they fitted together, puzzle pieces aligned at last. It felt like he’d known her all along, like there was a part of himself carved out and missing, that only the shape of her could fill. He didn’t even know her yet, and yet. He did— he felt it in his bones, in every beat of his heart. He knew Nesta Archeron, inside and out. Somehow. When he breathed, he tasted her perfume, and she was everywhere, filling everything, and he didn’t know where it ended, or how much of himself he’d signed over when her palm had first slid home against his. 

And she could see through a fucking glamour.

He swallowed. 

“Well,” he said, blinking as though words were foreign to him, his tongue cut adrift from his brain, “I can assure you. Nobody else can see them.”

She nodded, a soft hmph leaving her as he continued to let her trail him along that dance floor, letting the swell of the music pull them along like a current. He could only follow her lead, helpless, like she was nothing but a siren pulling him beneath the surface and waiting for him to drown. And already, he was— he was drowning in her. 

Nesta tilted her head to the side, letting the candlelight glaze the smooth skin of her neck, and Cassian just about stopped breathing.

“What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as she caught him taking in every damned inch of her his eyes could reach. 

He offered her a crooked smirk, a nonchalant shrug. “Did I mention that you look…” He trailed off, somehow unable to find the right word. Beautiful didn’t seem enough, stunning not quite right either. “Like you could bring this entire ballroom to their knees?”

It was Nesta’s turn to shrug now, the blasé rise and fall of her shoulders lined with more hauteur than Cassian had ever seen. He wondered when exactly it had stopped making him angry and started to make him dizzy.

“Not bad,” she quipped, “for a human.”

Cassian grinned. “Not bad at all.”

“I suppose you clean up well too, General,” she said dryly, but Cassian caught the way her eyes dropped to his lips; her gaze, cautious at first but growing bolder by the second, slipping down to his broad chest. He swore her fingers curled a little more firmly at his shoulders, tightening her grip like he was something she wanted to keep hold of. 

“Not bad,” he echoed in a whisper, bringing his mouth so close to her ear that his lips brushed her diamond earrings, “for a brute born above the wall.”

Nesta bit her lip, and when she drew away, there was a glimmer in her eyes, some spark skirting that mercurial blue that really did have Cassian’s knees feeling weak.

The dance brought them closer, and when Cassian’s hand fell to the small of her back without him thinking - like it was the only natural place for his hand to rest - he breathed her in again, let the scent of her perfume and the sound of her beating heart ground him. His hands slid up her spine, relishing in the warmth of her beneath his fingers. Something crossed her face, an emotion he couldn’t discern, but her dagger-sharp eyes softened, and gods— 

He was spiralling, so entirely lost in this gilded room awash with finery, that all he could do was hold on to the woman in his arms, finding some kind of peace in the way her fingers rested above his chest, splayed above his heart like the damned thing already belonged to her.

He didn’t understand it.

Couldn’t make sense of how the fuck he’d ended up here.

That feeling pulsed inside his chest again, something warm, like it didn’t matter how or why he’d ended up on that dance floor. All that mattered was that he had.

“Why did you do it?” Nesta asked suddenly, her eyes so piercing and clear, Cassian could only blink slowly beneath the weight of her attention.

“Do what?”

“Why did you cut in?”

Cassian snorted. “Because I didn’t like the look of him,” he answered easily. “And because I heard you tell him no, and yet he didn’t leave.”

“It wasn’t your place,” she said lightly, but for the first time there was no bite in her words, like whatever was happening inside his chest on this dance floor might have been having an affect on her, too.

“Not my place to rid you of a man that can’t take no for an answer?”

“Tomas is a prick,” Nesta answered, lifting her hand away from Cassian’s chest to flick her fingers in a gesture of nonchalance, “but people will talk now.”

When Cassian said nothing, Nesta brought her hand back to rest on his chest, her fingers reaching up to curl lightly around his shoulders. Pointedly, she met his eye, her stare so direct that it was like being dunked head-first into a pool of ice-cold water.

“A mystery man rescues me from Tomas Mandray and steals a dance. How the town will gossip.”

Cassian felt her back arch in his hands as she leaned back, felt the elegant curve of her spine as she tipped her face to the ceiling and let the music wash over her. Instinctively, he leaned closer. His face was an inch from hers, and all he could smell was her. All he could breathe was her.

She was intoxicating.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” he asked, his nose skimming her cheek, her lips close enough to kiss. “A man to steal you away like this is some kind of fairytale?”

“Do I look like a damsel in distress to you?”

Cassian snorted as she pulled away, drifting at the end of his hand as the steps pulled them apart. He took the opportunity to study her, and even though he managed a cocksure smirk, he swore his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

“No,” he said when she spun back into his arms. He caught her, wrapped both arms around her waist as her back landed against his chest. His body screamed with satisfaction, ringing in every place they touched as though this was how it was always meant to be. “I don’t think anybody could ever accuse you of being a damsel in need of rescue.”

Suddenly, he thought of her in Windhaven— how she might use that sharp tongue against Devlon and the camp lords. He’d crawl over hot coals to see it.

“Then what use have I for fairytales?” she asked, raising a brow as she turned back to face him.

The imperious look she gave him made him stupid. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, and though that stupid smirk curved one corner of his mouth, his every nerve turned breathless. 

The music was soft and lovely, a harmony that echoed on the marble, but it was the woman in his arms that was the true wonder, he thought. The candlelight brushed warm fingers across her skin, lined the blue of her eyes with gold, and if he’d ever had cause to regret the things he’d said to her when they first met…

Gods, he’d been a fool.

“One would think you had never been to a ball before,” Nesta said, pulling Cassian from his thoughts, “with the way you’re so clearly stuck in your own head.”

The sharpness of her voice, the way she pushed at him, had a small smile pulling at his mouth. “One would think.”

“You haven’t?” she asked lightly, stepping back as the dance demanded. Cassian cursed the distance. “Been to a ball, I mean.”

“Not like this,” he shrugged, breathing again as the steps brought her back to him, returning her to the circle of his arms. The only balls he’d ever been to were ones held at the Hewn City, an altogether different affair. 

“Then perhaps you’re the one in need of a fairytale,” she shrugged. 

She made no attempt to mask the way she studied him when she dragged her eyes from his face to his chest, along his arms, right down to the fingers he had resting at her waist, slipping so low they were but a breath from grazing her hips. And Mother above, somehow, he felt like the world had stopped. Something felt like it was coming together, some threads twining at last, and an answer glistened in his mind, burning in his chest—

Her eyes lifted, lingering on his loose hair before dropping to his shoulders and skimming along his collarbone. Cassian burned beneath her gaze, could feel her attention on whatever part of him it paused on. Half breathless, he wondered what it would feel like if he gave in to the feeling swelling in his chest. If he followed the thread that seemed wrapped around his heart.

Wondered where it would lead him— if it would bring him right back her, to her arms around his neck, her waist in his palm.

Because there was something keeping him drawn to her, keeping him coming back to her. He’d hardly stopped thinking about her for more than five minutes since they’d met, and at first he’d thought it was because she was so infuriating, because she’d pissed him off more easily than anybody ever had, but so many things were different tonight, and as she lifted her chin and tilted her neck, exposing the long, elegant column of bare skin, Cassian longed to lean down and press his mouth right above where her pulse was hammering, and gods, he didn’t think he’d be able to resist. His fingers gripped the fabric of her dress, his mouth dry, and—

Suddenly, something snapped.

He felt the reverberation behind his ribs, like he’d just been hit, full-force, by a fully-grown warrior’s fist, right in the centre of his chest. It rumbled through him, stopping his breath as his lungs seized and warmth blossomed within, and he could feel it, like a line had been strung between him and her, one that seemed to burn. But…

It couldn’t be.

She couldn’t be. 

Could she?

His heart squeezed, and he could swear he could feel something, something light and fragile, a delicate thread linking his soul to hers, one that was simultaneously strong enough to weather a storm and yet thin and new enough that one wrong breath could snap it in two.

A fairytale, indeed. 

His steps stumbled, but he smoothed it over.

“Perhaps I am,” he answered at last, using the hand at her back to bring her closer even though the couples around them were spinning, an entire arms-length separating them all in synchronicity. Cassian couldn’t bear that kind of distance. Nesta said nothing as he pulled her flush with his chest, his fingers flexing at the small of her back, like they were desperate to feel her, to hold her, to never let her go. They were, he realised. Now that he held her, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to how he’d been before— before he knew what it was to have her in his arms. 

Nesta looked up at him, a swallow shifting the diamonds at her throat, and if society hadn’t had a reason to talk before, they damn well did now.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t even think Nesta cared, not with the way her eyes continued to bore into his as she curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

It felt like the entire world was held right there, in the minimal space between his body and hers.

And Cassian didn’t want it to end— couldn’t bear for it to end, but the music was slowing, the dancing pairs around them drawing apart for a final time, and suddenly he felt like the world was coming apart beneath his fingers, cracking and splintering as he desperately sought to hold on for just a moment more. The music ended, and for just a heartbeat, silence reigned so supreme that he could have heard a pin drop.

Still, he didn’t let go of the woman in his arms.

She gazed up at him, those eyes softer than he’d ever seen, edged with a kind of wonder— a kind of rare vulnerability he knew he’d treasure for the rest of his life.

And then a cork popped on a bottle of expensive wine, and a hundred voices filtered back in as laughter ricocheted on the marble and reality came crashing back down upon them both in a wave.

Nesta cleared her throat, straightened her spine. Imperious once again, she pulled back, bowing her head as her hand fell away from his chest. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, brushing a hand down the fabric of her skirts, and Cassian had no idea if she was thanking him for the dance, or for pulling her away from the mortal who’d sought to possess her. 

He swallowed. 

“One more,” he whispered, hardly caring that his voice rang with desperation as he reached out to brush his fingers along the spine of the dance card tied to her wrist. “Fuck the others— fuck the rules and the men who placed a reserve on you like you’re nothing to them but a pretty jewel to wear for a while. Give me one more dance instead, sweetheart.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, but a small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

“You know I can’t do that.”

Her smile made him bold— made him dizzy.

“But you want to,” he said, stepping closer, eliminating the distance between them. His voice dropped to a low whisper, velvet-soft and aching as he brought his lips close to her ear. “Don’t you, princess?”

She shook her head. “No. You’re the worst dance partner I’ve ever had.”

“Perhaps you could give me some lessons, then.”

She batted at his shoulder, the gesture so effortless Cassian could hardly breathe. His body seemed to thrum whenever she touched him, an entirely new kind of strength coursing through him every time they connected, like she was a force he couldn’t resist— one that complemented him on such a fundamental level his entire being responded. He wanted to keep her with him, wanted to feel her touch, and nothing else in the world seemed to matter, like everything had just been redefined for him in a single dance.

But Nesta took a step back, lifting her chin as she put distance between his body and hers once more. At the edge of the dance floor, she glimmered beneath the lights, a sight so wondrous Cassian thought he might have gone to his knees if he thought it might win him another moment in her arms.

“You should go, General,” she said, nodding to the mezzanine behind him, where he was certain Azriel would still be watching. The dismissal might have stung, had that look not still lingered in her eyes— the ghost of the moment they’d just shared, softened by the candlelight. It remained, even when Nesta canted her head to the side in the most beautiful invitation Cassian had ever seen in his life. “But I trust you’ll visit again soon?”

“Of course,” he answered, his voice rough as he reached out to take her hand one last time. All around them couples departed the dance floor, but Cassian remained unmoving, feeling her hand in his as he lifted her fingers to his lips. 

He could feel her heartbeat— could feel it sinking into his own, each beat mirrored as he sought to savour this moment. To keep it cradled in his hands. 

The warmth of her fingers against his own was enough to banish even the most distant memories of the cold, and gods above… 

He knew with certainty, then. Knew without question who she was— what she was to him.

Pressing a lingering kiss to his mate’s knuckles, Cassian looked into the tempest eyes that had captured him since the moment he first saw her and said, in a voice laden with promise,

“I look forward to it, sweetheart.”

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!): @asnowfern @podemechamardek @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @starryblueskies7 @melphss @sv0430 @that-little-red-head @misswonderflower @fwiggle @tanishab @xstarlightsupremex @burningsnowleopard @hiimheresworld @wannawriteyouabook @hereforthenessian @valkyriesupremacy @kale-theteaqueen @moodymelanist @talkfantasytome

[ticklygiggles]

Miya&Mia's 12 days of Tickles Day 5: Christmas tree

Kusakabe x Sajou

A/N: IT'S STILL THE 18TH HERE *HEAVY BREATHING* Ahem, a very cheesy fic from my part and also not proofread again huhuuuuu, regardless, I hope you enjoy these babies that I LOVE so much 💕💕

His heart fluttered against his ribs and he placed a hand on his chest. Unlike many other times, this fluttering was not from anxiety and fear, it was from indescribable happiness. His cheeks were flushed and he tried to contain the smile that made the corners of his mouth tremble, but it was impossible--what kind of face would Kusakabe make when he saw their first Christmas tree as a married couple?

Sajou covered his flushed cheeks with his hands, the band around his finger felt cold against his warm skin. 

Their first Christmas tree in their own place. The two of them had chosen the tree. Kusakabe had chosen an artificial one and Sajou had been in charge of choosing all the decorations. 

Now he was standing in front of that same tree with the decorations he had chosen himself and he felt himself falling in love with it. Just as he fell in love with all the things and situations that had to do with Kusakabe and him. 

The bright, warm flickering lights reminded him of Kusakabe's hair and he laughed softly, sure that Kusakabe would like it.  

But... Where had he gone? 

“Rihito!” 

Sajou jolted, he barely had time to know what was happening before he had Kusakabe glued to him, tightly wrapping his arms around his neck, as if he hadn't seen him in years. 

“Hi-Hikaru! Wh- you're wet!” 

Kusakabe hummed, his nose brushing against the side of Sajou’s neck, inhaling his scent. “It's raining a little. Did you miss me?” 

“I- mmh-!” A soft kiss to his lips made him flush. “I… I did,” he admitted softly and Kusakabe giggled tenderly, causing butterflies to go crazy inside Sajou's tummy. “The- The tree…” 

“The tree?” Kusakabe tilted his head to the side, confused. “What about- oh.” 

His eyes widened at the sight of the gorgeous tree adorning their living room. And Sajou's heart leapt in his chest at the sight of Kusakabe’s beautiful face illuminated by the Christmas lights. His eyes lit up with a soft, magical light, and his skin seemed to sparkle as if it were covered in stardust. 

“You did an amazing job, Rihito. It's beautiful.” Sajou thought the same, but he wasn't exactly looking at the tree. “Oh! That reminds me!” 

Sajou was left alone in the living room again when Kusakabe rushed back to the kitchen, only to come back with a little red box between his hands, a simple yet beautiful golden ribbon on top. 

“This is an early Christmas present.” Sajou opened his mouth to refute, but Kusakabe pressed a finger on his lips. “Please open it.” 

He did what he was told and his eyes filled with tears. Inside the little box, rested a wooden ornament: a delicately carved wooden sphere with the phrase 'Our First Christmas' engraved in elegant lettering, their names and the year engraved just below. 

Sajou blinked, looking at the beautiful ornament before he looked up at Kusakabe. 

“You're so cheesy,” he mumbled, ignoring the tears clinging to his lashes. “It's beautiful.”

Kusakabe chuckled and he took the ornament out, hanging it from his finger. “Shall we?” 

Putting it together on the tree felt magical, almost surreal. Sajou stared at it lovingly, wishing that they got to hang that ornament every year for the rest of their days. 

“Don't I deserve a kiss?” Kusakabe suddenly asked, playful as always and Sajou looked at him, chuckling. 

“I guess you do,” he said, wrapping his arms around Kusakabe's waist and leaning his whole weight on him, causing Kusakabe to trip back onto the couch with a gasp.

“R-Rihito, what- ahahaha! Not tihihickling!” His laughter filled the room and Sajou smiled tenderly as his warm fingers sneaked under Kusakabe's shirt and squeezed and wiggled against his sides. 

Kusakabe was so ticklish. He threw his head back with sweet laughter and tried to push Sajou’s hands off him.

“I s-sahahaid a kihihiss- AHAhaha! N-Not uhuhup thehehere!” Kusakabe laughed an infectious laugh as Sajou's fingers found his ribs. His voice echoed through the room, filling the air with joy. 

It didn't take long before Sajou started laughing as well. "You'll have it, but first this.” 

Their laughter combined, creating a beautiful harmony that made Sajou feel light-headed, extremely happy. His gentle yet ticklish touch had Kusakabe nearly screaming with laughter, but Sajou could tell from his smile that he was having as much fun as him. 

"Why ahahare you tihihickling mehehehe?!” 

Sajou chuckled, humming as if in deep thought. “Because… I can? Because… I wanted to see and hear you laugh?” 

Because he didn't know what to do to himself and all the happiness that was almost bursting out of him. 

After just a few seconds, Sajou finally stopped and Kusakabe immediately relaxed against the couch, giggling himself silly as he tried to catch his breath. Sajou smiled, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Kusakabe's lips. 

“Thank you for everything, Hikaru.”

The love in Kusakabe's eyes made him blush as he pressed another kiss to his lips. 

“Mhmm~ anything for my husband.”

Ah, Christmas had definitely become one of Sajou's favorite holidays, as long as he was celebrating with Kusakabe!

[moonselune]

So this one is a little unique, but I clean tombstones for a living and was wondering if I can get a m! Tav that post-Caz spawn Astarion happens to find clean and taking care of his stone? Thank you thank you thank you!

thats so cool omg!!! I had so much fun writing this xox

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x M!reader | Lest they be forgotten

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The air in the graveyard was crisp, with a faint scent of moss and damp earth. You knelt beside a tombstone, carefully wiping away the lichen and grime that had gathered over the years. Each letter became visible, one by one, under the steady work of your cloth, your fingers tracing the carved name as you whispered it quietly: Astarion Ancunin.

It was the way you honored the dead, especially in this unfamiliar city that you’d come to after the horrors of the elderbrain crisis—a quiet gesture of remembrance. So many lives had been lost, including friends and family you’d been forced to leave behind. Caring for these tombstones was a kind of solace, a grounding ritual that let you pay homage to lives unknown yet somehow not forgotten.

A soft shuffle in the shadows caught your attention, and you looked up to see a figure approaching. A man, strikingly pale and handsome, with an almost ethereal quality to him as he stepped out from beneath the canopy of trees. His red eyes caught the dying light, glinting with an unsettling but captivating brightness. You found yourself struck by him, in the way one might be drawn to a storm on the horizon—curious, but wary.

“Paying respects to the dead?” he asked, his voice smooth as velvet, carrying the faintest lilt of amusement.

You gave a nod, offering a polite smile. “Yes, in a way. I clean the stones, take care of the graves. I didn’t know them, but it feels like I’m… remembering them, keeping their memory alive in some way.”

He crouched down beside you, his gaze dropping to the stone you’d just finished cleaning, and for a brief moment, something flickered across his face. Recognition, perhaps? You couldn’t place it, but it softened his expression, lending him an air of quiet melancholy.

“A comforting gesture,” he murmured, almost to himself, before looking back up at you with a small, curious smile. “You’re not from here, are you?”

You shook your head, letting out a soft sigh. “No, no. I’m a refugee. Came to the city when… well, when everything went mad with the elderbrain crisis. I’ve lost many loved ones,” you said, glancing down at the tombstone again. “Coming here, remembering the dead, ensuring they are not forgotten—it brings me peace.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and when he spoke again, there was a strange warmth to his voice. “That’s… rather sweet, actually. Most people avoid graveyards, especially at dusk. They find it all too morbid, but here you are, finding comfort like a crypt keeper .”

You chuckled lightly. “It’s not for everyone, true enough. But I figure that these lives mattered to someone once. It helps me feel less… alone.”

For a moment, the two of you simply sat there, a comfortable silence filling the space between you. You couldn’t help but be curious about this stranger, with his old-world elegance and eyes that seemed to hide lifetimes’ worth of stories.

“I’ve just realized, stranger,” you said, breaking the silence with a sheepish grin, “I never asked your name.”

The man’s smile turned a shade wryer as he looked down at the tombstone again, tracing a finger over the name you’d just finished cleaning.

“Astarion,” he replied, his voice lilting with a hint of mischief. “Astarion Ancunin.”

You blinked, taken aback by the familiarity of the name. You gave a small laugh, though confusion colored it. “Astarion Ancunin… like the name on this stone? You jest.”

He met your gaze, and the playfulness faded from his face, leaving behind an openness that was almost unnerving.

“Precisely like the name on this stone,” he replied, his voice softer, more vulnerable than before.

Your smile faded as the realization hit, your eyes widening as you looked from him to the stone and back again. “You’re… you’re him.”

Astarion inclined his head, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes. Or rather, I was. The person I was died long ago, but… well, here I am,” he said, gesturing to himself with a touch of bitter humor. “Back from the dead, so to speak. Fangs and all.”

For a moment, words escaped you. You’d heard rumors, whispers of vampires and undead lurking in the city’s shadows, but never had you thought you’d meet one—especially not in a graveyard over his own tombstone. Yet, as you looked into his ruby red eyes, you saw something achingly human: a vulnerability that he kept hidden beneath his charm and his poise.

“I’m… not quite sure what to say,” you admitted, feeling a rush of sympathy and curiosity mingling within you. “But I’m glad you’re here. Alive, or however you want to call it.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and a touch melancholy. “That makes two of us, I suppose.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. You could feel the weight of unspoken memories lingering between you, as though he was reliving past lives in the silence. Finally, Astarion turned to you, a faint smile on his lips, his expression softening.

“You know, for a man who spends his time caring for the dead, you have a surprisingly warmth. It’s… refreshing.” His fingers grazed the edge of the stone, as if touching it would somehow anchor him to his past. “Perhaps, in that same spirit, you’d care to join me for a drink?”

Your pulse quickened, and you found yourself nodding before you’d even processed the offer.

“I’d like that,” you said, managing a smile despite the slight unease lingering in the back of your mind. There was something magnetic about him, something that made you want to understand the complexities hidden within those red eyes.

He straightened, offering you his arm with an elegance that spoke of a different era, one that suited him in a way that made him seem less an undead relic and more a timeless enigma.

“Then let’s leave the dead to rest,” he said with a faint smirk. “And find ourselves some finer company for the evening.”

Taking his arm, you walked together out of the graveyard, the dusk deepening into night, feeling the strange yet exhilarating sensation that you were stepping into something unknown. And, despite everything, you felt safe, strangely comforted by his presence as if you’d somehow found a kindred spirit in the darkest of places.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Loved writing this, especially not from a tav perspective. I hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

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