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stevesjockstrap · 1 year ago

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Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad?

Based on this post

Or, Steve invites Craigslist!Eddie to Thanksgiving as his fake boyfriend for entertainment and drama purposes

Rated: T? Always with the swearing idk | read on ao3

ETA a/n: shout out to @rocknrollsalad for a direct quote in here and putting up with me and @machtaholic for encouraging this 🖤

“Are you serious?”

Steve sighed. “Yes, Robbie. You know how much my parents have been on me since they’re losing what little power they have left. This is going to be awesome.”

She was pacing around their living room, making him anxious. “But why are you going to take this stranger from Craigslist? Why can’t you find someone you know? Argyle would do it. What if this guy doesn’t show, or he comes and steals something?”

“If he doesn’t show I’m in the same boat anyhow, but hey, there’s a thought. You think I can pay him more to steal something from my parents? I’d love to see that.”

“Steve!” She rounded on him, eyes wide. “You’re paying him? You didn’t tell me that!”

“For fuck’s sake, Rob. He didn’t ask for money, the post actually said he would do it just for food. But the guy’s driving half an hour and I’m willing to bet my family is worse than he’s expecting. Sit down, you’re making me dizzy. Read this and tell me this isn’t exactly what I need.” He scrolled on his phone and handed it to her.

Her shoulders relaxed as she read on, laughing finally, “You’re not going to make him propose or fight your dad on the front lawn, right?”

“Maybe for Christmas,” he smirked.

His parent’s house was always so cold and empty. It was his childhood home but he had never really felt any attachment to it. His apartment with Robin was small and cluttered but cozy, and full of memories of them and their friends. They had done a Friendsgiving the previous weekend that had been a dangerously good time. (The smoke detector had only gone off three times, a new record.)

Running his hand through his hair again, he looked at the clock. Would Eddie show? He checked his phone again, knowing there were no missed texts because he had just looked thirty seconds ago. Why was he more nervous about meeting him than introducing him to his family? They’d had one phone call and some texts, mostly arranging the time and place and Steve already apologizing for his family.

Eddie had laughed, “It’s okay, Steve. Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

He went to the bathroom, just to kill time.

And of course the doorbell rang.

He quickly washed and dried his hands, sparing a second to pull his hair into a less raked-through mess.

Quickening his pace when he saw his mom still holding the door open, not allowing whoever was on the stoop in, he craned his neck to see out the door.

Oh fuck.

“If you’d just go get him, ma’am, we could clear this all up,” Eddie was saying. The words were polite but there was an edge to them, just the tinge of a sneer on his lips. It was perfect.

“He’s mine,” he heard himself say. His mom whipped around, eyes crazed and mouth open. “Uh- I mean,” his eyes returned to Eddie standing on his doorstep. Taking in the long thick wavy hair, big brown eyes, his lips pulled into a toothy grin now. He’d clearly attempted to dress up, grey slacks and a black button down, paired with heavy combat boots. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal tattoos up his forearms and the backs of his hands. There were more tattoos on his neck, and Steve’s eyes glued themselves to the ring through his lip. Guh. “He’s, uh, here for me.”

“Hi Steve,” he watched the lips form. “Was just meeting your lovely mother.” Again there was nothing wrong with the words themselves, nothing anyone could pinpoint or take offense to. But that slithery way he said it with a razor sharp sting, Steve was impressed. He was clearly an expert at this.

Steve tried to school his own expression and voice. “My apologies. Mom, this is Eddie, my boyfriend.”

There was a long silence where he thought his mom was going to combust. She opened and closed her mouth several times, her eyebrows furrowed. He’d never seen her speechless before.

Eddie sent him a smirk and he almost matched it but his mom looked at him finally and stammered, “Y-your, ah, I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes and pulled in a steadying breath. When she opened them she asked, “He’s your boyfriend?”

“Yes ma’am,” Eddie answered from almost behind her now as she turned to question Steve.

“And why is it you didn’t tell us he was coming? Why is he ringing the doorbell like a stranger?”

“I, um, well I did think he’d text when he got here or something…” Steve started, meeting Eddie’s eyes over her shoulder.

“What, and miss out on this warm welcome?” Eddie winked at him but quickly settled his face when his mom turned to him. Doing the exact thing he’d hoped for, Mrs. Harrington remembering she’s leaving a guest out on her doorstep.

Steve delighted in the fact that this was going to be a chess match and his mother was already several moves behind.

Her eyes narrowed and she held a hand out to welcome Eddie in, walking them all into the foyer. “Well, don’t let me stop you, go ahead and greet your boyfriend, Steven.”

It was a challenge, he knew, but they hadn’t discussed this. Eddie was on the ball, however. He continued his momentum to slide a hand under Steve’s suit jacket to settle on his ribs and the other he brought up to cup his face, leaning in and angling their heads together. Steve tried to relax and closed his eyes. Eddie pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, but from where his mom was standing she wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Hey, baby. Missed you,” he breathed when he pulled away. Steve was halfway to believing this himself.

“Yeah,” he sighed stupidly.

Eddie pulled his hands away and he almost reached back for them before stopping himself with a shake. He found he’d only gone a foot away when he opened his eyes though. Oh he was in trouble.

His mother cleared her throat from behind Eddie like she hadn’t put them up to this. Steve reached out for his hand and held onto it.

“Okay so I’m going to go introduce him to everyone else,” he said quickly and walked further into the house. Holding his hand.

They made their way through the dining room, Steve taking more and more pleasure with each stilted interaction Eddie weaved through with his family members.

His dad was propped in the living room with his uncle and Steve could feel his eyes on him as they made their way around. He knew his mother had ran to tell him all about it but he wouldn’t take being ignored well. It was making his skin crawl but he knew it would further piss off his dad so he kept it up.

After everyone else had been formally introduced to Eddie and Steve had gulped half a glass of wine, he felt almost ready to go deal with him. He took Eddie’s hand again and turned, but navigated them to the sliding glass door and outside instead.

It was chilly, late November in Indiana, but it felt amazing after the stuffiness of the house.

Steve remembered he still had Eddie’s hand in his and he quickly dropped it. “Uh, you smoke?”

Eddie grinned, all teeth and tongue as he held a battered pack of Newports out to him. “Not usually, really, but it makes for a good prop. Sorry they’re shit.”

“Holy shit. You’re amazing. I mean- perfect, I mean- fuck.” Steve laughed and shook his head. “The on-the-spot fact checking of my aunt’s political shit was next level. You could do this year round and make a killing, man.” He did pull a cigarette out of the pack and Eddie leaned into him, clicking the lighter for him, meeting his eyes as Steve sucked in.

“I don’t-“

The door slid open behind them and Mr. Harrington walked out.

“Looks like you and your date are avoiding me, Steven,” he said. Steve watched as he gave Eddie a very slow up and down look.

“No, dad. Just needed a break. It’s warm in there.” He made his face remain neutral. It’s not like anyone was cooking anything, his mom always got their big family meals catered.

His dad narrowed his eyes at him as he held eye contact, taking a drag from his bummed cigarette.

“Where is Robin today?”

He sighed. “With her family, dad. And for the last time, I’m not dating Robin. She’s a lesbian. This is Eddie, by the way. My date? He’s my boyfriend.”

When Steve had tried to come out as bisexual to his parents, his dad especially had made it clear that he did not accept that about his only child. As the years went on and he hadn’t spoken much about this part of his life, it seemed his dad had hoped it just went away.

Mr. Harrington scoffed, “I don’t understand why you want to throw your life away, Steven. I thought we’d raised you better-“ Eddie made a noise next to him and Steve knew he couldn’t look at him or he’d burst out laughing.

“Save it, dad. Believe it or not I love my life. Which is something I’d never thought I would be able to say. Can you even say that?”

His dad shook his head disappointedly and walked back inside.

“Excellent job. I don’t think you need me here after all,” Eddie joked.

Steve propped himself against the wall of the house, deeply tired from having to defend his choices to his dad for the umpteenth time.

“Maybe not need. But it’s been really fun having you here. Usually dinner conversation is about how big of a disappointment I am. Oh, I guess I didn’t give you that backstory. I’m graduating with my masters in psychology in the spring, and I’ve been early accepted into a PhD program. And there’s no money in helping people,” he chuckled. “So.” He scuffed out the butt with his heel and left it on his dad’s pristine patio.

“Steve. That’s amazing! Congratulations.” Eddie seemed genuinely excited for him and it brought a small smile to his face. “You look like you could really use a hug, man. Can I hug you?”

“Of course.” If he let himself hold on for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, Eddie allowed it.

Dinner was quiet. His uncle asked Eddie what he did for work and he enthusiastically explained he was a line cook and worked nights at a bar. Steve surreptitiously looked around to take in everyone’s expressions and quickly covered his mouth with his napkin. He actually enjoyed himself during a holiday dinner for the first time he could remember.

Eddie at one point threw an arm around the back of his chair and he leaned in a bit into him, catching the disapproving stares they got from the corner of his eye.

Pie was passed around and by then Steve had had another glass of wine or two. He reached over to thumb the whipped cream from the side of Eddie’s lip without thinking, before popping the thumb into his own mouth. Eddie’s eyes widened and it was on the tip of his tongue to apologize but he caught himself.

“Thanks, babe,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

After saying their awkward goodbyes to everyone, Steve walked Eddie to his van. He looked down at his feet, fiddling with his keys.

“Hey, um, this may be out of left field and let me know if it’s too much, okay?” Eddie waited for Steve to nod. “Do you want to come to my uncle’s with me tomorrow night? It’s just the two of us and he always volunteers to work the holiday. But we do a thing, you know. A-and he’s always bugging me to bring someone.”

Steve blinked. “Would it have to be a fake date? I’m not as skilled at that as you are.”

“No, I mean, it wouldn’t- god I suck. I’m actually asking, like for real. If that’s okay? Just be you. And I’ll just be me.”

“That’s very okay. I’d really like that.” He couldn’t hold back his smile. Taking the chance, he leaned in, Eddie meeting him in the middle to finally press their lips together.

#mine #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre Steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #Steve x Eddie #Steve/eddie

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vanishingstarrs · 4 months ago

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pancakes for dinner ( k bakugo x nurse!reader, pro hero era, established relationship, just soft and pure vibes, down bad bakugo aka my boyfie fr, slight smut at the end, NSFW, minors DNI ) ( guysss i’ve been so sick and i’ve been suffering having to work still bc #hispanic we ain’t eva allowed to call out )): i’ve been wanting to write please please please x bakugo but haven’t had the energy, meantime hope y’all enjoy this little fic <3 just wholesome mushy stuff for y’all but then it turned smutty at the end because why not lol also i’m pretty new to writing explicitly so pls lmk how it came out !! idk if i'll do that again lmao we shall see i guess )

You were exhausted.

Mentally and physically.

Work had been a tad overwhelming lately, with extra things being piled onto your already heavy workload after a big merger between two of Japan’s biggest hospitals, which in turn caused a lot of people to be let go. Not only had it been stressful wondering whether you’d make the cut or not after a “re-interview”, but when you learned that you had been accepted you’d also been asked if you could take on a few extra duties.

You had never been one to back down from work, always taking initiative and being happy to help any one of your coworkers that might need it.

Lately though, it seemed every single person needed help. Your coworkers, your patients, and if it wasn’t those two then it was your boss asking if you could help her with management duties that had nothing to do with the extra work you’d been assigned to do on top of everything else.

You were sick and tired.

Your muscles cried out as you pushed your apartment door open and immediately kicked off your shoes, groaning as you bent down in order to place them onto the shoe stand. You were sure you heard your back crack as you stood straight once more to hang your purse and keys.

You didn’t bother unpacking the lunch you never got time to eat, leaving the bag you packed it in tied up and in the fridge before heading into your bedroom and immediately shedding your scrubs. You hated doing skincare, but thought about how dirty your face must be after dealing with so many patients and dragged yourself into the bathroom to get it over with.

By the time you were finished doing everything, your body was begging you to lay down for just a minute.

A little power nap never hurt, you told yourself as you fell onto your bed face first and sighed. You hugged your pillow to your aching body and allowed yourself to relax for just a little while.

Though “a minute” quickly turned into three hours as the sun went down and the night sky pulled you further into dreamland.

You didn’t hear the front door open or close, you didn’t stir when your boyfriend started removing his hero equipment, much less wake when those heavy gauntlets he somehow wore all day hit the floor or when his pounding footsteps carried across the hardwood as he made his way to your shared bedroom to check on you.

You missed the brief smirk on his face as he found you lying on his side of the bed, on your right side with a leg propped up for comfort.

Katsuki knew how hard you’d been working lately with the merger between the two hospitals and how stressed it made you. With him working as a hero, he encountered many people that wound up needing to go to the hospital. On top of that, you also had all the other sick people that hadn’t been involved in some villain attack. You likely dealt and saved more people in a single day than he did in a month, he knew this, he was proud of the fact, actually, and incredibly proud of you.

He was damn lucky to have you.

And for all these reasons, he was happy to see you rest for a bit.

He’d often come home late and find that you’d already done all the cleaning around the house, as well as meal prep for both you and him, and still found the time to bake desert on top of making him dinner. You went above and beyond in all aspects of your life, often even calling and checking up on his parents when he hadn’t done so in too long. He’d receive texts from his mother scolding him and making sure he was taking good care of you the way she knew you did him, he swore you were the favorite and he understood why you were.

Everyone loved you.

He adored you.

Except he hadn’t been doing his part as well as he should be lately.

And so, while you slept, he quietly changed into some loungewear before carefully shutting the bedroom door closed behind him.

He tried his hardest to be quiet as he went around cleaning up throughout the house, he swept, he steam mopped the floors (and prayed he didn’t miss a spot), he did your laundry, took your work shoes and scrubbed them clean for your next workday, he took your old lunch and tossed it out before setting to work on preparing you something delicious for tomorrow.

Being in the kitchen was actually soothing for him, he liked being able to experiment with recipes and different things for you to try. He hated that he hadn’t made the time to recently. He cooked enough dinner to pack lunch for both you and him, then last minutely decided that you’d definitely want something sweet when you woke up and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.

You liked it best when you had pancakes for dinner, not breakfast.

He was extremely pleased when they turned out light and fluffy just the way you liked them and he set out to cut up some fruit for you to put on top, making sure everything was ready before heading back to your shared room.

Katsuki was less quiet this time around, as he slid into bed next to you. He propped himself up on his elbow as he buried his fingers into your hair and gently scratched your scalp.

You were exhausted, and likely wouldn’t have woken up if not for him leaning over and placing kisses from your neck all the way up to your ear. You felt his hot breath as he whispered for you to please wake up, which made you groan softly.

You’d yet to open your eyes, but who else would it be? You asked,“Katsuki?”

“Made you food, baby, c’mon, I saw you didn’t eat your lunch, you gotta put somethin’ in your belly.” He explained as he removed his hand from your hair and lifted the material of your shirt to rub up and down your stomach, you felt him inch closer to your chest before stopping himself and tugging your tank top back down to your waist.

You turned toward him, quickly finding the divet in between his shoulder and neck to plant your face in. You were barely awake, not really comprehending what he was trying to say.

“Missed you.” You relaxed further into him.

“Missed you so much, sweets.” You felt him kiss your forehead,“Hate to pull you from bed, but you really gotta open your eyes for me.”

You did as he asked, smiling as his face came into view, lit up by the soft light streaming in from the hallway. “Hi, honey.” You managed to get out as he smushed your cheeks (cuteness aggression) and placed three kisses onto your nose.

You grinned as he said hi back and repeated that he’d cooked for you.

You beamed, you hadn’t had his cooking in a while, but didn’t exactly make a move to get up from bed. It wasn’t until he revealed that he’d made you pancakes, that had you up in seconds.

He chuckled as he followed you down the hall, lightly smacking your butt as you happily made your way through the apartment. You turned to him with surprise,“You cleaned too?”

“Course.” He scoffed as he tugged on your hand and sat you down at your small table that sat four people max. “I’d do it more if you didn’t always beat me to everything, I was thinking I should be doing a bit more around here anyway.”

“I can handle it.” You said, like always.

He rolled his eyes as he brought over the plate he’d prepared for you.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I’m just saying you don’t have to give a hundred percent every day, you know? You could give me thirty and I’d be more than happy to give the remaining seventy.” He began to explain,“I wanna take care of you too, and that starts by you not doing everything.”

You silently watched him cut up your pancakes before placing some fruit onto them and drizzling maple syrup all over, he gave you tea to drink and pulled his chair closer to you while you ate.

He ran his fingers through your hair again as you told him all about your day before asking about his and what time he’d gotten home. He let you feed him a couple bites of food and you snagged a few extra kisses each time you lied and told him he had syrup on his face.

When you finished, he asked if you’d like a bit of real food, claiming he wanted you nice and full. You agreed, happy to eat what he’d prepared.

You were less tired now, satisfied with your belly full and sitting with your lover as he recalled a story about retrieving someone’s lost kitten in a tree. You laughed at the classic save and felt your mental load becoming lighter the more the minutes went on.

After eating, the pampering continued.

Katsuki demanded you allow him to run you a bath, and he quickly made the bathroom up with a few candles. He set up a movie for you to watch on your laptop as he came into the room with you and offered to wash your hair. You requested he get in with you then, and he obliged quickly, taking his time when it came to massaging his hands through your hair and pressing kisses against your back at every opportunity. He held you against his chest as you relaxed into him.

You honestly started to get sleepy again.

And then it was ripped away from you once more as Katsuki led you to bed, not to sleep, but to have you spread out against the mattress for him to plaster his tongue against you and demand he get his dinner now.

“Wanna take care of you.” He’d said.

He quickly had you squirming and writhing underneath his touch and the feel of his fingers inside as he worked you until completion. He sung you praises about how hard you’d been working lately, telling you how you deserved this and more, as well as making sure you knew how good you always did for him.

“One more, baby.” He begged.

One more turned into two then three, and by the time he finally lined himself up to your entrance you were spent. He worshipped your body, kneading your breasts and holding one of your hands back so you couldn’t hide how flushed your face had become from not just his compliments, but from the way he fucked you.

“Katsuki,” You moaned,“Close.” Again.

“Cum with me, baby, please.”

The movement of his hips was starting to get sloppy, but neither of you noticed through the haze. He whined in your ear as you latched onto his back with your hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, your walls squeezed him and he moaned one last time as he got lost in euphoria. He didn’t make a move to remove himself as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own and kissed your cheek and then your neck and then your collarbone, making a line all the way down to your bellybutton.

He occupied himself with making sure you stayed awake despite your eyes being closed as you attempted to catch your breath, he sucked hard enough to leave a few marks along your chest and before you knew it you started to feel him become hard inside of you again.

Your eyes snapped open as you gave him a look.

Katsuki smirked as he rubbed your hip and stole your mouth briefly,“Gotta make sure you’re nice and full, baby, one more time f’me, please?”

“You’re insatiable.” You told him.

And yet, how could you say no to him when he looked at you that way?

It was a good thing you’d taken that nap earlier, especially now that your body would soon be aching for a different reason.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki smut #katsuki bakugo smut #mha smut #ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ #vanishingstarrs

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save-the-villainous-cat · 8 months ago

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Vampire hero x flirty villain but it’s HEAT SEASON *disappears*

“Shit, you’re a mess.” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and tilted their head, clearly amused.

“Yeah, listen…” The hero took in a deep breath. It was worse when they spent time with the villain, it always got worse too. Usually, they would hook up with a stranger but that simply didn’t satisfy them anymore.

The hero didn’t know what was wrong with them, they’d been “alive” for long enough now, they had dealt with this several times and had never had any problems. However, that had changed. And the hero hated change.

“You’re not sick, are you?” The villain took a step towards them. Slowly, they came closer and closer.

“No…no, I’m fine, I…hey, let’s just fight, okay?”

“You seem a little distracted.”

“I’m not.”

“Honey, you’re looking at everything I have to offer except for my pretty face.” The villain was in front of them now and the hero tried to keep their eyes on the villain’s. “I’ve done a little bit of research on vampires. Either you’re starving or…”

The hero grabbed their hand.

“Don’t say it.”

The villain’s smirk widened.

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” the villain said. Their fingers traced the hero’s jawline. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, darling. It’s only natural, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but…” the hero began. They couldn’t control their thoughts, couldn’t control the daydreams about what they’d do with the villain.

They used to think this was a good thing, a pleasurable thing. But it had turned into a curse, had turned into a bottomless pit.

Deep down, the hero feared they had fallen for the villain. They feared they couldn’t be satisfied without them.

“Honey…” the villain said. They were everything the hero wanted in a partner. Intelligent, protective, flirty. They’d known each other for a while now. “You can’t fight in a state like this. I’ll end up on top of you and we’d reach the same outcome.”

The hero squeezed their eyes shut, trying to ignore their criminal libido. They hadn’t even thought about their actions. It was as if their body had carried them through the streets and to the villain’s apartment.

“I can’t ask that of you, it’s not right.” The hero grabbed the villain’s shoulder in search for something to stabilise them. They could feel their pulse banging in their ears.

“But I was the one suggesting it.” The villain caught the shell of the hero’s ear with their teeth softly. They bit down but released them just as quickly when the hero let out a quiet moan. “And you came to me…”

The hero was quiet. They touched the villain’s neck and caressed it, losing themselves to the feeling of someone actually caring about them.

“I can’t always control myself,” the hero whispered. “The biting or sometimes scratching, I can’t—”

“Hmmm,” the villain hummed and the hero was surprised to see a satisfied smile glued to their face. “I’m into that. So, don’t hold back, got it?”

“Are you sure you—?”

“If you’re really desperate we can do it on my desk, right here,” the villain suggested. They pressed the hero’s hips against the table and the hero could only attempt to whisper the villain’s name when they pressed their knee between the hero’s thighs. “What do you think?”

The hero didn’t know if they wanted to bite or devour the villain. Probably both.

“Y-yes, here is totally fine.”

“What a good vampire you are, hm?” the villain whispered against their ear. Their hand crawled up the hero’s thigh, slowly, agonisingly. “Three taps if it’s too much for you. You choose a safe word.”

The hero nodded.

“What do you want in return? Money? Information?”

“In return,” the villain said, their fingers playing with the hero’s underwear, “I want you to beg for it.”

Thus their affair began.

#idk don’t ask me #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #suggestive #vampire hero #hero vampire #vampire x human

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serpentandlily · 1 year ago

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Arcane - Azriel x Reader

Azriel x DeathGod!Reader

Summary: Azriel never thought he’d find his mate, was convinced the Mother hadn’t even given him one because he was unworthy. That is, until he stumbles upon his mate while looking for the most unusual ally.

Based on this request.

Warnings: very brief illusion to past SA

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“We’ve exhausted all our options,” Rhys declared, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m afraid another war is on the horizon. Koschei cannot be dealt with alone.”

“I don’t understand. The weaver and the bone carver were able to be killed,” Cassian interjected. “Why is it impossible for us to find a way to kill Koschei?”

“It took the might of the cauldron to defeat them,” Rhys explained.

“Well, then let’s ask Miriam and Drakon if we can use the cauldron,” Cassian replied, giving the obvious answer.

“It would be no use,” Feyre sighed. “I destroyed the book. We’d have no idea how to cast the spell the King of Hybern used that day. And we risk Koschei, himself, getting his hands on the cauldron.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Mor chimed in. “Something, someone, that could be as powerful as the sorcerer himself. He wasn’t the only God that found their way to Prythian.”

“Most of them are locked up in the Prison,” Rhys said. “And the Prison would not allow us to free any of them even if we wanted to.”

“Az, how has your search for Bryaxis been going?” Feyre asked.

“Not good,” Azriel answered honestly. “It’s like that thing disappeared from Prythian entirely.”

The room was silent for a moment until Amren sat up straight. “Wait, there is someone we could go to for help. As a last resort.”

Rhys lifted his head, staring at her with a heavy resolve. “No, absolutely not. It is too dangerous.”

“You said it yourself, we’re out of options!”

“What are you two talking about?” Feyre asked, looking between them.

Rhys let out a long breath. “Bryaxis…had a sibling. If you could even call her that. Someone who also came from wherever he slipped through from.”

“And why haven’t you mentioned this before?” Mor asked with a glare, crossing her arms.

“Because,” Rhys started. “Like I said, it’s too dangerous to get into contact with her. She’s…well, to be honest, no one really knows much about her. She keeps herself in a dark cave somewhere in the middle. Likes the darkness as much as Bryaxis does.”

“If no one knows much about her, then how do you know she’s dangerous?” Feyre asked. “Everyone was scared of Bryaxis until I went down there and was helped by it.”

“I’ve been told stories of her from my father,” Rhys explained. “How in the past, long before any of us were born, she could cause the fall of entire armies. Could level any court into rubble and dust.”

“And if that’s true, then doesn’t it speak to her character that she hasn’t done any of that? Maybe she is good of heart,” Mor suggested.

“We’re out of options, Rhys,” Amren said. “She might be our last hope.”

“Fine,” Rhys sighed. “I guess we better get ready for a trip to the middle.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“Alright, maybe this was a bad idea.”

Azriel glanced at Cassian to see him frowning as they stood in front of the dark cave. It was just him, Cass and Rhys who had come here to try and find this creature to ask for help. But it seemed Cassian was already losing his nerve.

“I tried to tell you,” Rhys muttered under his breath. “Azriel, can you scout ahead with your shadows?”

As soon as those words left Rhysand’s mouth, Azriel’s shadows darted ahead, trailing into the cave in a flurry. Azriel’s eyes widened as he was left standing completely bare, exposed. Not a single shadow had stayed with him, which was unusual. He tried to brush it off, tried to hide how uncomfortable he felt without them.

They waited expectantly but his shadows never returned. Azriel’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t call them back,” he said to his two brothers watching him. “They aren’t listening to me.”

“That’s…unusual,” Rhysand said, stroking his jaw.

Nothing more was said as the darkness in the cave seemed to grow and grow, almost extending out towards them despite the sun overhead.

“Who are you?”

The feminine voice was sensual yet sweet, playful almost. Nothing like he had been expecting. It struck something inside of Azriel, making his chest ache. Rhysand stood up straight, switching from brother to the High Lord in a mere second.

“I am Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court,” Rhys answered, plucking a piece of lint from his coat. “If my sources are right, I believe you are y/n, sister of Bryaxis.”

“That I am,” the voice answered. “Why are you here? No one ever dares come here.”

Those words might’ve seemed like a threat, but her tone was light, curious.

“We’ve come to beg a boon,” Rhysand answered honestly. “There is another Death God who threatens war. We have been unable to stop his efforts.”

“Nobody has ever asked for my help before,” the voice said back in that same curious tone. “And what of Bryaxis. Will they help as well?”

“Bryaxis…Bryaxis was freed by my High Lady. We have been unable to find them.”

A step in the darkness. Another. Light footsteps came closer and closer to the edge of the cave. Azriel’s heart rate picked up, his hand falling to truth-teller. Cassian’s face was white and he looked ready to flee.

“You are afraid.”

It was not a question. Just a statement. But Rhysand answered it like it was.

“Bryaxis is made of nightmares,” he explained. “Something so terrifying to us. Perhaps you do not see it the same way but I imagine you are much the same and that is why we are…nervous.”

A laugh. A light, lilting laugh. Something sparked in Azriel’s chest.

“Me and Bryaxis are not made of the same thing, but opposite. A balance for our world,” the voice said. “Bryaxis is made of nightmares but I am made of dreams.

“Then why do you hide in the shadows?” The question came out of Azriel’s mouth before he even realized he was speaking. He could see his own shadows now, twirling in the darkness as if they were home.

“When we were captured, Bryaxis caused them fear so they were locked below the earth.” Her voice was sadder now, more serious and Azriel found himself hating that. “But I-I caused them…something different than fear. So they kept me locked in their bed chambers for decades, centuries, until I was able to escape. But then I learned those that did not desire me, feared me instead for the same reason. I was either caged or hunted. That is why I hide here.”

A shiver ran down Azriel’s spine. His face hardened at what she was implying. The fae who had captured the two Gods had locked one beneath the library and had used the other for…He felt sick to his stomach.

“If you are to help us,” Rhysand spoke, “I can promise you that we have no intention of keeping you locked up at all.”

“I do not trust the fae. Bind your words to magic and perhaps I will help you in return.”

“What is it that you want from us?”

It was silent for a moment, as if she were pondering.

“A place to stay. A place to live. Somewhere safe from being hunted or kept as a prisoner. A chance to live in this world, outside of this cave. To get to experience all that you do. That is what I wish for.”

Azriel knew that wish. Knew it all too well. For it was one he had for years while being locked in his father’s dungeon. So maybe that is why he found himself stepping closer to the cave, found himself unafraid of the darkness that had captured his own shadows.

Maybe that was why those words slipped out of his mouth before he could think of the repercussions, before he could be held back by one of his brothers.

“I will promise you that, y/n. I will promise you the opportunity to experience life outside of this cage, outside of the darkness.”

He could feel the heavy stares from his brothers on his back but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look anywhere but that darkness, even though he felt so exposed without his shadows.

Another footstep.

And another.

Until a figure began to emerge from the darkness, finally stepping into the light.

Azriel’s breathed hitched, his eyes widening in surprise. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been this.

Because before him now stood the most beautiful female he had ever seen. The type of beauty only a Goddess could possess. The type of beauty that had his head spinning, had his heart palpitating in his chest.

She smiled and he felt the whole world pause in that moment. It was a sight that would bring any male to his knees. A sight that could start wars.

She held out a small, delicate hand.

“Then I will help you, shadowsinger,” she said.

He mindlessly took her hand in his, shaking it as the sting of magic burned on both of their skin forming a bargain tattoo on the inner wrist. He looked down at it to see what the magic had created out of their promise to each other.

Swirls of shadows with a small lunar moth emerging at the end. A creature that sought light, finally leaving the darkness.

When he met her eyes again, those beautiful expressive eyes, he stumbled back a step. Stumbled as a golden thread unwound itself in his chest and pierced straight through the universe to the female standing before him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The battle lasted thirty-seven days. Koschei was defeated, the females he had spelled were freed. Beron had been exposed for helping him and was killed by Eris finally, bringing a new leader to Autumn.

And things were finally at peace.

“What are these again?”

Your index finger poked at the spongy thing on your plate. It smelled sweet, good. And it was warm to the touch. You glanced up to see the shadowsinger watching you, amused.

“Those are pancakes,” Azriel answered with a chuckle.

“Pancakes,” you repeated, slowly, testing the word on your tongue. “I thought cakes were desserts. Not breakfast.”

“They are a bit different from cake. Made in a pan instead of baked in the oven, hence the name,” Azriel explained.

You hummed in response, taking a bite out of one of the pancakes. “Hm, just as sweet as cake.”

“I might’ve added a bit more sugar than normal to them,” Azriel said, rubbing the back of his neck. “To satisfy that raging sweet tooth of yours.”

Your cheeks heated, that ticklish feeling in your stomach came again. A feeling you had never felt before this month and still had yet to make sense of. It made something in your chest ache when you looked at Azriel.

“You made these?”

Azriel nodded. “Someone slept through breakfast with the others.”

Your cheeks turned even redder.

“You should’ve woken me up,” you muttered before stuffing more bits of pancake into your mouth.

“You deserve to rest, y/n.” Azriel was still watching you with that little glint in his eyes. “After everything, you deserve to rest.”

Since coming to Velaris to help with Koschei, Azriel had been the one to show you around, to help you learn the customs of the fae. He had so much patience for you and your endless amounts of questions.

The others had helped you as well, had welcomed you into their home with open arms, but there was just something special about Azriel. You felt some sort of pull towards him. As if the darkness inside of you called to his.

He was beautiful, more than any God or male you’d ever seen before. And beneath his icy exterior, he was sweet and kind. Thoughtful. Witty.

You enjoyed being with the others but you preferred times like this, when it was just the two of you. He was less shy, more at ease, when it was just you. And something about that made you happy.

Seeing him smile, even when it was just the faintest expression, brought you joy like you’ve never felt before.

And Gods, he brought out so many emotions you had not felt in a very long time, some you hadn’t even known you could feel. You had begun to crave his presence. Desire it. You wondered if he felt the same.

“Did you still want to come with me to the city today?”

Azriel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. That’s right, Azriel had cryptically told you he needed to pick something up from Velaris today. When you had asked him what he was getting, he had refused to answer.

“Yes, I would like to.”

“We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

An hour later, you found yourself in Azriel’s arms, flying down to the city. Your heart was pounding in your chest at how closely he held you, like he was afraid you’d suddenly fall from his arms. You kept your own arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

You still remembered the few hours after the last battle. The showdown with Koschei had left you depleted, covered in wounds, but otherwise okay. Still, Azriel had burst into your tent with panicked eyes and only seemed to be calmed when you had let him tend to you like a mother hen.

You didn’t know what to make of his behavior. But you did know that being in his arms made you feel safe.

“Can we get more of those honey mooncakes on the way back?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the ticklish feeling in your stomach again.

Azriel laughed, his chest rumbling against your body as he tightened his grip on you. “That sweet tooth of yours really is insatiable.”

“I didn’t get to finish mine from last time,” you said in defense for yourself. “Cassian got to them before me!”

“Well, next time tell Cassian to go get his own,” Azriel said. His breath ghosted against the tip of your ear, causing a trail of goosebumps on your skin. “I buy them for you, not him.”

Once again, you found yourself with red cheeks and a swelling heart. Ever since he had discovered your sweet tooth, Azriel had a habit of leaving sweet treats out for you. At first, he found it hilarious that a Death Goddess craved pastries of all things. But now he found it just downright adorable.

When the two of you returned to the House of Wind, you found Feyre and Mor waiting for you. You barely got out a small goodbye to Azriel before they were pulling you away, telling you it was time to start getting ready for the night.

Tonight was Starfall. Something you hadn’t seen in centuries. The girls helped you get ready as day turned to dusk and finally night.

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” Mor giggled, leading all of you out of the room and up to the main balcony. You could already hear the crowd and the music.

You felt nervous as you reached the top, your eyes instantly darting around to find that one person you were always looking for these days.

Azriel stood with Rhysand and Cassian, dressed in all black, finely tailored pants and a matching coat. He looked handsome, yet still beautifully lethal. The darkness and light bounced off the elegant planes of his face, causing his hazel eyes to glow golden.

When he caught sight of you, those eyes widened and you felt them roam your entire body. You’d always hated being looked at in such a way, but not with Azriel. Never with him.

In fact, you found yourself getting heated under his stare.

Rhysand and Cassian moved to their respective mates, leaving you to greet Azriel alone. He took your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You are stunning,” he whispered. “Absolutely stunning. Happy Starfall.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

Azriel gave you a rare smile that had your heart pounding. You peered at the crowd, watching the faeries enjoying their evening. Azriel stood with you, his fingers brushing against yours in a comforting gesture. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of crowds, not when your presence was met with so many stares of both fear and desire.

“What are they doing?” You looked at the crowd of faeries that seemed to all be paired off, moving to the music from the band.

Azriel’s lips twitched, like they always did when you asked him a question like this. “They’re dancing.”

“Dancing,” you repeated. The word sounded familiar, like something you had known in a past life. You had spent so many years in that cave, you had turned into a mere shadow of who you used to be.

“Would you like to dance?”

Azriel had turned to look down at you, running a hand through his hair. His shadows curled around his wings.

“I don’t think I know how,” you whispered.

He held out his hand to you. “That’s alright. You can follow me lead.”

You bit your lip but decided to take his hand. He had promised you a chance of experiencing the world as it should be. He hadn’t led you astray yet.

He pulled you to the dance floor and you mimicked the other pairs, keeping one hand in his and placing the other on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your waist, yanking you closer to him.

The music started up again and Azriel began to lead you through the dance. It was easier than you thought it would be or perhaps he was just a good lead. Still, it wasn’t long before you were smiling and being twirled around in his arms.

You danced like that for a while, basking in the feeling. The soft music, the laughter, the gentle faelights above you. You had never felt so alive. And it was all thanks to the male who held you in his arms.

A slower song came on, some pairs leaving the dance floor. You looked around in question until you realized the pairs who had remained held a more intimate position. You copied them, placing your arms around Azriel’s neck.

Both of his arms wrapped around you now, resting on your lower back.

“Is this okay?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

You nodded, letting him drag you even closer until your bodies were pressed together. The dress you were wearing was thin and you could feel all of him through it. His hard chest, his sculpted muscles.

Azriel swallowed audibly, swaying you gently to the music. You laid your head on his chest, letting him rest his chin on top of your head. Every inch of you that touched him was on fire.

You closed your eyes for a moment, just letting yourself feel this, embrace it. You’d never felt like this before. So warm and light. It felt like it was just you and him that existed.

That is until you opened your eyes. You suddenly felt overwhelmed as you noticed lingering stares. A lot of them. You felt uncomfortable under the weight of them.

“What’s wrong?”

Azriel had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you were feeling before you said anything.

“Everyone’s looking at me,” you muttered under your breath, staring up at him.

He raised his head, looking around with narrowed eyes. That caused most of them to look away, not wanting to risk the shadowsinger’s wrath.

“Come on,” Azriel whispered. “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private.”

He enveloped you in his shadows until you were stepping out of the darkness and into a rounded alcove somewhere else on the balcony. Vines dangled down from the roof, trailing down the pillars holding it up.

You stepped forward, placing your hands against the stone railing. You could see the crowd below, the one you had just been in. Still hear the music and still see the night sky. You turned to face Azriel.

“Thank you,” you said. “I-I just hate it when they stare. Like I’m some weird creature.”

Azriel stalked forward until he was right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

“They don’t stare at you because they think you’re weird,” Azriel replied. “They stare at you because you are beautiful.”

His hand rose and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat. Your mouth parted to say something but a roar of cheers cut you off. You whirled around to see thousands and thousands of stars beginning to soar through the sky.

Your mouth dropped open. It was more beautiful than you remembered. The stars kept falling and falling, like cascading fireworks. So bright and breathtaking. You couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped your mouth, standing on your tippy toes to lean over the balcony as if you’d be able to reach the stars.

An arm circled your waist and Azriel’s front was pressed against your back as he held onto you.

“Careful,” he whispered in your ear, scared you were going to tip right over the edge and fall down the steep mountain.

“So beautiful,” you murmured, staring up at the stars. “Oh, it’s so much better than I remembered it from all those years ago.”

“It never stops amazing me,” Azriel said. “No matter how many times I watch it.”

You both watched in silence for a little longer, letting the music and laughter and cheers fill the space. Eventually, you turned in his arms, now pressed against the railing.

“Thank you,” you said again, “for bringing me here.”

“Anything for you,” Azriel whispered, raising a hand to rest on your cheek. His eyes were filled with a reverence that stole your breath away.

A brush of magic zipped by in the air and you gasped, raising up your wrist. The tattoo was gone. The bargain had been fulfilled. You had defeated Koschei and Azriel had given you the opportunity to live a life more than you had dreamed. That chance at life was in your hands now.

“The tattoo is gone,” you said, grasping his arm and pulling back his sleeve.

Your eyes widened to see his tattoo still there. The lunar moth emerging from the swirls of shadow.

“Wha—”

“I got it tattooed,” Azriel cut in. “Permanently.”

You glanced up at him in question. “Why?”

“Because I always want a reminder of what I promised you,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. “What I still promise you, y/n. A life worth living. I want to continue showing you the world, to be there when you experience new things.”

You were speechless. Completely, utterly speechless.

No one had ever shown such devotion to you, such care and love. Your heart swelled up, your chest ached.

“Azriel,” you stuttered out. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. “I was trapped in the darkness once too. I know what that’s like and I never want you to fall back into it. I don’t need anything from you, just the chance to be there with you while you learn, while you feel.”

Something was building inside of you, building and building until it was ready to break out. You rubbed at your chest, at the unusual feeling.

“I feel this…I feel this thing inside,” You said, gesturing to your chest. “Do you know what this is? Do you know why I feel this way?”

Azriel grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest, in the exact same spot yours ached.

“It is the mating bond,” Azriel answered, softly. “I feel it too. Right here. I have since the day I met you.”

His shadows swirled around like they had been waiting for this. You felt your own darkness rise in response until the two had joined together, watching together from the dark crevices.

“A mating bond,” you repeated.

Something snapped the moment you said it out loud. As if a question you had been asking your whole life had finally been answered. A gold thread was woven between the two of you, a beacon of light in the darkness. A place for that moth to call home.

You gasped looking back up at Azriel. Now that you recognized the bond, it grew more taut. You stumbled closer to him, fisting his coat in your hands.

“A mate,” you whispered. “You're my mate. I..I didn’t even know Gods could have mates.”

“Say it again.” Azriel’s voice was as dark as the shadows. A shiver ran down your spine.

“Huh?”

“Say it. Say that I’m your mate again.”

“You’re my mate,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. “My mate.”

A quiet whine came from the back of Azriel’s throat that sent heat between your legs. Your eyes widened. A muscle in his jaw clenched. The air around you was charged and you felt like you had been set on fire.

“And you are mine,” Azriel growled. “My mate.”

His possessive tone only made that heat grow. Your lips parted, a small breath leaving your lungs. His eyes glanced down to your lips, hungrily. You gave him the smallest dip of the head, the permission he was waiting for.

Azriel surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled, your backside hitting the stone railing behind you. You met his vigor with your own.

His lips were soft and warm. And his kiss felt like heaven and hell all mixed in one.

He groaned as you deepened the kiss, tilting your head back to give him more access. You yanked him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere. You never craved someone as much as you craved him.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip and you opened for him, letting him claim your mouth. His scent was intoxicating, he tasted like pure sin. You could drown yourself in him.

Your hands trailed up from his chest to circle around his neck. His own hands were holding you by the waist, pulling your hips into his. They traveled down your thighs until he was lifting you up, seating you on the stone railing, never pulled away from your kiss.

You parted your legs, letting Azriel step even closer as he finally pulled away, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. You whimpered at the feeling of his canines grazing the sensitive skin.

His nose traced the column of your throat before he rested his forehead against yours. You were both panting, both completely lost within each other.

“Wait,” Azriel breathed out, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “I got you something. I don’t want to forget to give it to you.”

Because he would. He would forget his own name as long as the sweet scent of your arousal filled the air. Would forget the whole world existed if you kept staring at him like you were.

He pulled a small black box from his pocket, handing it over to you.

You opened it, gasping at the beautiful ring displayed inside. It was made of gold with a mesmerizing amethyst gem in the shape of a teardrop, accentuated by crescent moons on both sides and tiny stars.

“Azriel,” you breathed out. “This is beautiful.”

A small smile ghosted his lips.

“May I?”

You held out your hand and he pulled the ring out of the box before sliding it onto your ring finger. It was the perfect fit. You admired it, twisting it under the faelights to see the gem glow.

“It’s perfect,” you sighed.

“I had it made just for you,” Azriel said. “It’s what I had to pick up in the city today.”

“I-I really don’t know what to say, Azriel.”

Azriel rested his forehead against yours. “Just say it again. Tell me you feel this too. I’ve been searching for you for over five hundred years now and I just need to hear you say it. Again and again. Until I can wrap my head around it. Until I realize I’m not dreaming.”

You smiled, lifting up to press a small kiss against his lips. Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, at the realization of why exactly the bargain had been fulfilled. You had asked for someplace to be safe, for a home, a chance to live. Azriel was giving you all of that and more.

“You are my mate. And I am yours,” you murmured against his lips. You pulled back to look him in the eyes. “All I’ve ever wanted was to find somewhere to call home. Being with you, being in your arms—that feels like home to me, Azriel. The one I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

Azriel’s eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to find the lie in your words. But there was none. Of course there was none. You were falling in love with him.

“Does this mean you want it?”

“It means I want you. I want all of you, everything.”

Azriel smiled and the sight nearly blew you away. You giggled as he held you close to him, buried his face in the crook of your neck. He kissed your throat once, twice.

“Then I think we’re due for a long vacation,” he murmured against your skin.

You knew what he was referring to. The frenzy that would come with this. Just that thought alone caused a tantalizing ache between your thighs.

“I think so too,” you whispered back as Azriel pressed kisses up your neck and jaw.

He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your skin as he stared into your eyes. His gaze was filled with so much promise, so much love. And then he kissed you again and everything felt right in the world. You were home.

#acotar #azriel #fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel fic #bryaxis #request

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ludwigplayingthetrombone · 2 years ago

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Finally finished the first part of gai’s 8 gates coma and how kakashi dealt with it rewrite people have been requesting. [tw blood, injury, coma, death discussions, grief]

Kurenai: Kakashi Kks: Ah. Kurenai and...baby, what’s up? Kurenai: You mind if I come in a moment? Kks: Uhhhhh I-

Kks: So what did you need to speak about? Did something happen? K: No, Nothing’s happened. You haven’t gotten to properly see and bond with her yet. Here Kks: You know I’m not fond of kids. K: That’s why I didn’t ask. Hold your arms out. Ok, now, don’t look absolutely petrified.

Kks: She’s ok, I guess [YELP] Oi! Don’t pinch me while I’m holding your baby! K: You wouldn’t drop her. Asuma would haunt you forever! Kks: Terrifying thought, Mirai.... How are you feeling? K: Exhausted. Do you really want to hear how horrifying having a baby is? Kks: No, please don’t tell me.

K: I came over to check on you as well. Any news? Kks: No. He’s still the same. K: Is that why it looks like this in here? Kks: ...Yeah. Doctor said he may never wake up. Since we’re eachother’s medical contacts, Tsunade told me I had to prepare to make hard decisions should it come to that.

Kks: With the council breathing down my neck over a job I don’t want, I had... A bit of an outburst. K: I don’t even blame you. That’s... That they expect you to carry on like normal. Still grieving. The person you love most is gone. But you’re still here. Don’t let them just dust you off and move on again. I’ll always have your back. Kks: You and Asuma always did. Even when I wasn’t grateful for it.

Kks: I can’t tell if they just don’t care or didn’t realize, Gai’s the one who held me together all these years. Only reason I’m still here at all is because of him. I don’t think tenzou, the elders, or the village are prepared for what’ll become of me if I lose him. So, I don’t care anymore. Let them be mad. I won’t give up on him. K: You should talk to him. Kks: huh K: Talk about anything! I’m sure the sound of your voice will help him find his way back. Especially if you sound sad, Kks: uuh

K: I can hear it now, “My eternal rival is sad? Not on my watch!“ Kks: Pretty accurate impression. K: There’s been lots of source material! Kks: Maaa, Your mom’s a huge dork K: Oi! [kakashi chuckles]

K: He’ll be so upset he missed her birth Kks: Oh, devastated. I can’t wait to see the look on Gai’s face, Mirai, when I tell him /I/ held you first! When he wakes up

Kks: Hey, Gai. Kurenai said i should talk to you.

Kks: Feels weird. Most of the people I’m used to talking to like this are all... Dead.

It’s so eerie how silent you’ve been for so long. you’re not even this quiet when you sleep. Your kids come everyday to see you. Naruto and sakura when they can. Lots of others. I’ve been telling them embarrassing stories from when we were kids since you keep making them wait. Do you remember when I came over while you and Dai were making supper

Dai: Kakashi! Good to see you, my boy! Kks: Id Gai home? Dai: He’s helping with supper! Go on, inside, you’re always welcome! Kks: Ok Dai: Atta boy Kks: Hey, G- !? ummm? Gai: OH!! Rival!! Kks: Is that a lid?! Gai: Correct!! It stops me from crying while cutting onions! A win for me!!

Kks: Against.... the onions? Gai: Yep! KKs:[snicker] Gai: Laugh all you want! Not everyone can comprehend innovation. Kks: Whatever. You forgot this at the training grounds. I know it’s yours there’s a turtle on it. Gai: See! You’re already tearing up! Kks: Am not Gai: Also, thankyou so much! Kks: Bye, I’m leaving. Gai: Could it be? You’re scared I can cut much faster than you! Kks: I am not scared. Gai: Good, I think we have another lid! Kks: YOU-!

Dai: Great to see growing boys with such a hunger! I’ll never have to prep onions again! Kks: I think about that everytime I chop onions now. You’ve altered my brain with all the ridiculous things you’ve done. Can’t even look at the toys you’ve gotten the dogs without getting emotional

Kks: Just knowing you’re here still, I can barely function. It’s pretty pathetic... Your hair’s getting long. Turning into your dad.

[gai’s heartbeat] Kks: Gai

[gais heartbeat continues]

[gai’s heartbeat continues] Kks: If anything should happen to me, you’ll rush over, right? Gai: Damn right, I will. Dont you worry about that.

[Gai’s heartbeat]

Kks: I miss you

#kakagai #gaikaka #Kakashi Hatake #Maito Gai #might guy #naruto #my art #//coma #//blood #//death mention #Kurenai Yuhi #mirai sarutobi #naruto spoilers #i guess

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imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul · 3 months ago

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The Prince - Chapter Nine

A/N: Hello! I did not expect this chapter to be as long as it is, but there was just too much to squeeze into this one! Only one more chapter left! I want to thank you all again for your likes, comments, and reblogs! It means the world to me and I hope you stick around for more Jace fics after this one is over. Like before, please see tag list in the comments.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 5.2k Synopsis: Finally, all matters are put to bed as Jace meets with Baela, the reader meets with Rhaenyra, and Lord Blacktyde is dealt with.

Warnings: violence, blood, death

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Jace walks directly out of your chambers and heads for Baela’s. It is too early an hour to be visiting, but he cannot wait any longer. In this current situation, he needs to ensure your safety. Besides, he has put off this conversation with Baela for far too long.

He gathers his courage as he knocks on her door. To his surprise, Baela answers the door herself.

“Jace,” she says with a sigh, looking him up and down. “I’ve been expecting you.”

“I’m sorry it’s so early. I—” he pauses, taking a breath, slowing down, “Can I come in?”

She doesn't respond, but holds the door open. As he walks in, his thoughts are of you, your smile, your hand in his, and it gives him the strength to finally face her. To finally tell her the truth. When he does, she’s already looking at him with a sad smile.

“I know, you know,” she says softly.

“Baela, I'm sorry. I never meant for you to find out from anyone else but me. You're my closest friend, and--"

“I mean,” she says, walking into the room, sitting down on a couch, motioning for him to do the same. “I knew, I think even before I knew. Your feelings for her . . .” she sighs, “It’s the kind everyone wishes they’ll find.” She is still smiling, but there is a hurt behind her eyes, too. When she meets his gaze, she laughs.

“Don’t you dare pity me, Jacaerys. I’m glad that you’ve found love with Y/N. You deserve happiness.”

“So do you."

“I know,” she says with a laugh. “I see the way you look at her. I hear the way Rhaena talks about her budding relationship with Lord Corwyn. I want the same for myself.” She sighs. “I used to think I might find that with you.”

“I love you, Baela. It’s just—”

“I know,” she says, smiling gently at him. “I don't feel that way either. I love you, too, just . . ."

"Yeah," he says softly. She is quiet for a moment, studying her hands.

“If I break our betrothal, I don’t want Driftmark," she says. Jace's heart leaps once. He meets her eyes, seeing a determined glaze in them.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“King’s Landing is my home, I don’t want to leave it.”

“Baela,” he says with a smile, “I wouldn’t have you anywhere else. During the war, you were my confidant, my advisor, I need you here.”

“I know,” she says with a smirk, “I’d like to be Hand.” A grin spreads across Jace's face.

“Done.”

When Rhaenyra invites you to her quarters, a horrible dread fills your bones. You think of the only other time you were summoned by her, when Lord Blacktyde arrived. There is little doubt in your mind that this meeting has to do with him.

You think she'll probably have Barun and his ship waiting for her command, waiting to send you off to the Iron Islands, never to see this family you have grown to love again.

At your arrival, a guard leads you into the queen's chambers. The room is warm, like Jace's tends to be, a trait that must run in the family. Rhaenyra is standing over her desk, her brow furrowed as she reads the scroll in her hand.

"Your Grace," the guard says, drawing her eyes up.

"Y/N," Rhaenyra says.

"Your Grace," you say, curtseying.

"You may leave us," she says, dismissing the guard. Once the door closes behind him, she gives you a small smile.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Baela has agreed to end her betrothal to Jace," she says, making your heart leap. "I asked my son to hold off on telling you until I could speak with you myself.

"I have seen the way you look at Jace, and how he looks at you. I know there is love there," she says, a soft look on her face. "He deserves love."

"Yes," you say quietly, reflexively.

"But he also deserves a long life, an easier one than the one he has lived thus far. The arrival of Lord Blacktyde has made me reconsider my initial approval." She meets your eyes. "Tell me why you should marry my son."

"My Queen," you say, taking a deep breath to hopefully squash the growing panic within you. "I don't know why I should marry Jacaerys. I know there are more advantageous matches out there for him. I have no titles, no relationship to offer your family that you don't already possess.

"But I do know that I love your son, more than anything in this world. And I know he loves me," you say, your voice cracking with swelling emotion, "It is an honor I do not take lightly. For so long, I tried to fight my feelings, because I know I'm not good enough for him, because of my past. But your son has shown me that the love between us, the admiration and trust, it is not commonplace. It deserves to be treasured.

"I don't know why I should marry him. I probably shouldn't. But if you grant us leave, please know that I will do everything in my power to make sure he lives a long, happy life."

She studies you for a long moment. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve, waiting for some sign of her approval.

"What of Lord Blacktyde?" she asks. "If you are to reject him, he will turn his anger upon my family."

"I know," you say, dropping your head. "If it comes down to it, I would leave with him, if it meant keeping your family safe." She raises an eyebrow at you.

"That means a lot." She is quiet for another agonizing minute.

"I want to see more of Lord Blacktyde, to understand for myself the kind of man he is. Already, he has sullied his reputation after barging in here, making demands for you. Perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing to lose his allyship. He is already ostracized in the Islands." That spark of hope leaps up into your throat.

"Your Grace?"

"If you would give up your happiness, your life, for my son, if you could walk away from your feelings, I can think of no stronger quality in a wife, and queen."

Jeyne is pacing in your quarters when you arrive back. The moment she spots you, she gasps, moving to your side.

"What did the queen say?" she asks. The tears that were threatening to fall during your meeting finally spill over.

"She said yes," you say, "Baela agreed to end their betrothal."

"And Barun?" Jeyne asks, her face flushing with excitement.

"I think she'll try to make some kind of agreement with him, she's inviting him to supper tonight to feel him out. Although, its my understanding that she wouldn't care either if the relationship falls through."

"Oh, Y/N," she says, wrapping you into a bear hug. "I'm so happy for you."

"Me too," you say with a laugh, wiping at your tears.

"Have you seen Jace yet?" she asks.

"Not since last night. I'm sure he knows, but I want to see him. To celebrate with him."

"Well, you'll see him tonight."

"Barun will be there, too," you say, "I won't be able to get close to him, to even let him know."

"The prince is clever," Jeyne says, "I think he found a way around Barun."

When you slip on the dress Jace sent, you are in awe. Jeyne always made sure you had beautiful, elegant dresses, but this one was of its own caliber. The beading made it sparkle in the light. The fabric clung to you favorably, the slightly lower neckline surely Jace's idea.

You feel absolutely beautiful, and stronger somehow. Clad in your future family's color, you feel some of their bravado embracing in you.

"If your father could see you now," Jeyne says, walking back into the room, also dressed in her finest.

"What would he think?" you ask.

"That he was a damn fool," Jeyne says, wrapping her arms around you. "He wanted the Vale, wanted its legacy to pass to your husband and sons. Look at you now," she says with a smile, "You're going to be queen."

You take in a breath. In your excitement, your love for Jace had overshadowed the fear of becoming queen. It's years away, but already, you worry what the people will think of you. Jeyne seems to notice your attitude change.

"It won't happen for a long time. You'll have time to prepare," she says, "But you'll be perfect."

"Thank you," you say, "For everything."

On the walk down to the dining hall, Jeyne tells you of her morning meeting with Barun. His terms hadn't changed from five years ago. He promised aid to the Vale in exchange for your hand. Jeyne had politely told him she needed to consider, and went on her way.

"How did he appear?" you ask.

"He cannot hide his emotions. He said all the correct things, but his face and voice held only frustration."

"I will be relieved when he is long gone," you say with a sigh, stopping in front of the doors to the dining hall.

"That day is near," she says. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

The heavy oak doors open to reveal Jace and his family. He is joking with Aegon, but upon your arrival, he looks up. A smile immediately breaks across his face. He bids his brother goodbye and comes to your side. You can tell he wants to do more, but he only takes your hand and kisses it softly.

"You are beautiful," he says, warm eyes meeting yours.

"Thank you," you say. He transfers your hand to his arm and guides you into the room. "I had no idea you had such an eye for gowns."

"I don't," he says with a smile, "But this one was as easy find, once I pictured you in it." His eyes flick down to your chest. It dawns on you then, just how long it has been since you slept together. Was it really only a few days ago? It feels like longer now.

"I've missed you," you say lowly, "I--"

The heavy doors open again, this time revealing Lord Blacktyde. He stumbles almost instantly, and you realize he is already drunk. Jace must notice the way your body tenses, because he tightens his hold on your hand, just as you break away from him.

"Y/N," Jace says sternly, quiet enough for only you to hear. "He's going to find out eventually."

"Not here," you say, watching as Jeyne greets the lord. "Please," you say, glancing back to him. "For tonight, let's just pretend."

"Pretend that I'm not the happiest I've ever been?" he asks, making you smile.

"Yes. Just for this dinner. Tomorrow, we will figure out how to tell him."

"Very well," he says with a sigh. "Let me escort you to your seat, then." His mirth has vanished, and you hate that you can't celebrate this victory with him. For so long, you two have longed for this very moment.

As he guides you to your seat, you cross him and whisper, so only he hears, "I love you." He keeps his composure, but the look in his eyes conveys his response.

"Y/N," Joffrey says, sat to your right. "You look lovely tonight."

"Thank--"

"Evening, Your Highness," Barun says, startling you as he sits in the seat to your left, the one Jace was about to claim.

"Lord Blacktyde," Jace says through clenched teeth. You exchange a look, but Jace is too smart to start an argument now. Rhaenyra sits at the head of the table. Her eyes meets Jace's and she inclines her head to her left, the unoccupied chair there.

As everyone takes their seats, Jeyne, Rhaena, and Baela across from you, the younger boys further down the table, soft chatter breaks out. For the first time since you revealed yourself to her, Rhaena meets your eyes and gives you a soft smile.

"How is Morning?" you ask carefully, hoping a neutral topic might mend the gap.

"She's good," Rhaena says, "I should be able to fly with her soon, finally."

"Really?"

"Dragons grow quickly," she says with a shrug. "You should . . . come see her soon." A strange expression passes over her face.

"I'd like that," you say, with a smile. She cuts into her food, and you assume she's done speaking to you, until she looks back up once more.

"Red suits you," she says. It's as much acceptance as you'll get from her, but it means the world.

"Thank you."

"So," Joffrey says, pulling your attention to him. "Remember in the library, when you swore nothing had changed with you and my brother?"

"Yes," you say, glancing up the table to Jace. The prince meets your eyes with a smile.

"Care to make any amends to that statement?" he asks when you look back at him.

"No," you say, smirking.

"Even now, you won't trust me with your secrets?" Joffrey asks, a frown on his face.

"Today we are pretending," you say, "Ask me again tomorrow."

As the next course is served, you feel you must relieve Jeyne from entertaining Barun. Thus far, she has been one of the few to speak with him, save for a few remarks from Rhaenyra and Daemon.

"Are you eager to return to the Iron Islands, My Lord?" you ask.

"Yes," he says gruffly, his breath reeking of ale, "I can't stand the heat here."

"It's not so bad, one you get used to it," you say.

"I don't intend to. You shouldn't either."

"May I remind you, Lord Blacktyde, I have not agreed to any terms with you," Jeyne remind him.

"Yet."

"Excuse me?"

"You haven't agreed to any terms, yet," he says firmly. Jeyne doesn't break eye contact.

"Of course," she says. She glares him down as she reaches for her glass of wine. He looks away before she takes a sip.

"What is it you find so desirable about the Iron Islands?" Daemon asks, drawing your attention down the table again. For a quick moment, your eyes meet Jace. He isn't looking at you, though, because his sole focus is on Barun. His fist is clenched tightly atop the table.

"Is it the never ending damp? The sunless sky? Or are the stories true, that the Islanders fuck the creatures of the sea?" Daemon asks. The room is quiet. Barun's face grows redder by the second. But before the tension can break, one of the younger boys laughs. Whoever starts it gets the other one going, too, and soon everyone starts laughing, too. The only one who doesn't even try to fake one is Jace.

"Say what you will about our customs, your Targaryen ones are much stranger," Barun says. Your laughter dies in your throat.

"And which customs would those be?" Rhaenyra asks.

"You forget yourself," you say quietly, hoping only for Barun to hear it. He turns to glare at you, his eyes bloodshot.

"You'll do well to learn to hold your tongue," he says. "As I was saying," he continues loudly, "Such strange customs. You married your uncle after all, Your Grace." Jace's knuckles have gone white.

"That must be why you've had such trouble finding a husband," he says, turning his full, horrid attention to you.

"How is that?" you ask.

"Because you're not related to them!" he says, punching the last few words as if he's a jester.

"Lord Blacktyde."

"If only you had just been a little blonder," he chortles. "Although, that rules doesn't apply to these two." He motions to Joffrey, then to Jace. Your prince's face is white with rage.

"Need I remind you who you are dining with?" you ask. Barun rolls his eyes. He seems closer now, as he looks at you. You can smell the alcohol and see the beads of sweat at his brow. You move closer to Joffrey.

"When we get home to the Islands, this back talk will not be permitted."

"I believe my cousin already told you nothing has been decided." You reach for your win glass, casually, needing to pretend all is well.

"King's Landing," he says under his breath. "Leave it to them to teach a woman such disrespect." You exchange a glance with Jeyne, both of you knowing you learned that trait well before King's Landing.

"And what is it exactly that you find so lacking in King's Landing, My Lord?" you ask.

“People claim the Iron Islands are barbaric, but when brother argues with sister, we don’t put the burden on the whole of the realm.”

“Would you call usurping our queen’s throne ‘arguing?’” you ask, your eyes flitting to the end of the table where Jace, Rhaenyra, and Daemon all stare coolly at Barun.

“I just believe that if things had been handled more rationally, I wouldn’t have lost so many good men.”

“People were lost on all sides,” you say, your wine glass nearly shaking in your hand. Tension tightens along the table. All side conversations have ceased.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” he says to you. “You need to come to the Iron Islands. It’s not safe in King’s Landing.” He seems oblivious to the shifting mood of the dragon riders around him. Rhaenyra has a firm grip on Daemon’s arm, but the King Consort shares the same expression as Jacaerys. Barun leans in even closer, until your back is pressed into Joffrey’s arm, trying to put as much space between you as possible.

He continues, unbothered. “I mean, they couldn’t even protect their own children, how could—”

The glass in your hand shatters in your grip, jostling the rest of the table. Both Jace and Joffrey are on their feet with you, the latter of whom reaches for your hand. You pull it back, your focus solely on Barun. You aren’t alone in this, the entire family looks at him with cold-blooded anger.

“Apologize,” you say firmly. He laughs as he looks up at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Apologize,” you say. The glare he gives you is one that could kill. But before he can say anything more, he finally looks at the people around him.

“My apologies, I meant no insult,” he says with a forced smile.

“Of course,” Daemon replies, an equally vicious smile on his own lips.

You sit down, begging Jace to do so, too. His jaw is clenched so hard, you aren’t sure he’s actually breathing. You give him a look that says please, and finally he sits.

“Y/N,” Joffrey exclaims, reaching for your hand. Jutting from your palm is a large shard of glass. Blood drips between the two of you. “You need to see the maester.”

“I—”

“She’s fine,” Barun grunts, taking your hand from Joffrey. He drags the chunk of glass down your hand, lengthening the cut before pulling it out. You clench your other fist, and take in a quivering breath, but that is the only reaction you’ll give him.

“See? All better.”

“She’s bleeding,” Jace says plainly, looking at Barun in disgust.

“Haven’t you been told, boy? Girls always bleed.”

“I think I’ll escort Y/N to the maester," Jeyne says, standing quickly. You look nervously between Jace and Barun. You don't want to leave, fearful of where this anger might lead. “Y/N” Jeyne urges.

“Coming,” you say, standing up. Joffrey places his napkin in your bleeding hand softly. “Thank you.”

As you move out from between them, Barun looks as if he wants to stop you. His attention moves to the end of the table, and whatever he finds on Jace’s face stops him. As Jeyne leads you out of the room, you look back once, unsettled by what has happened, and usure of what is to come.

The maester has just finished stitching your hand when Jace walks into the room, Rhaenyra and Daemn following close behind. He doesn’t seem to care that Jeyne, his parents, and Maester Orwyle are there. The moment he is in front of you, he grabs your face and kisses you.

“I’m fine,” you say when he pulls away. He doesn’t respond, just takes your bandaged hand in his. He studies it for a moment, then kisses the back of your hand.

“Jace,” you say, looking up to meet his eyes. His hard exterior drops then, and he sits down next to you.

"How is your hand?" he asks.

"The maester says I'm lucky," you say, "I could have lost my grip if it had been deeper. He says it will only leave a scar." Jace looks livid.

“Did anything else happen after dinner?” you ask, hoping to change the subject as Jace’s hand holds your uninjured one.

“No, Barun shut up once you left," Daemon says.

“He’s revolting,” Jace says, giving your hand a squeeze.

“He is,” Jeyne says, joining your small group. “And I’m afraid he’ll only get worse, when Y/N rejects him.”

“He’s one man,” Jace say firmly. His thumb traces over your skin, both to soothe you and to remind himself that you’re there. “He is disgusting, but he is not invincible. We’ll arrange to tell him in a group and then send him back to the Iron Islands.”

“And if he threatens the Vale?” Rhaenyra asks. "Or dares to threaten us?"

“Then I will fly there myself and defend my future wife’s home,” he says proudly. "And ours." You meet his eyes and give him a gentle smile.

"We will meet with him tomorrow morning," Rhaenyra says. "Tell him firmly that Y/N rejects his suit, and that if he leaves willingly, the Iron Islands will be rewarded. Hopefully, that will be enough."

The plan is set. The next day, Barun will be informed by Jeyne, in front of Queen Rhaenyra, Prince Jacaerys, and a slew of Kingsguard, that she rejects his suit. It is Jeyne’s idea that you stay out of sight, and you don't fight her on it. Barun is possessive. If you were there, you aren’t sure what he would do.

But the waiting is agony. When the time comes for them to go down to the throne room, you are confined to your chambers. You can’t help but pace, worrying what might be happening.

It’s an hour before a knock comes from your door. Eagerly, you run towards it and whip it open, having dismissed your lady’s maid half an hour earlier, because her worrying was just as bad as yours.

Panic surges through you, though, as you open the door and find not Jace or Jeyne, but Barun. He stands outside your door, a menacing look on his face, his nostrils flared. On the ground next to him, is the guard assigned to your chambers.

“Lor-Lord Blacktyde,” you stutter, backing up as he presses into your room.

“Now you’ll see me,” he says. His face is red, his tread heavy. He radiates an anger so great you haven't seen before.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say.

“Why not? Expecting whatever lousy lordling you’ve been seeing behind my back?” he asks, still stalking towards you. Step for step, you back up, too.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Don’t lie to me!” he yells as your back hits the post of your bed. Quickly, you jump aside, putting some more distance between you.

“You forget yourself, My Lord,” you say shakily.

“I forget myself?” he asks with a laugh. “You were betrothed to me, but coming here made you forget your oath.”

“You married another,” you say, “How was I to know you’d kill her and come crawling back for me?” Anger flares in his eyes as he moves towards you. His hands reach for your arms, but you step back just in time. Barun catches his knee on the edge of a sofa, growling at the pain.

“This behavior will not be acceptable when I bring you to the Islands. You will be my wife and you will obey me."

“I’m not leaving with you," you say icily.

“The hell you aren’t."

“Let me remind you, that Prince Jacaerys promised war upon your doorstep, should you put up any fuss at my refusal.”

“The prince,” he says with a scoff.

“Should you comply, he will see that the Iron Islands are rewarded,” you say. Barun is silent for a long moment, considering. You think his anger might have abated, but when he looks up again, there is no life behind his eyes. They are dark like you know him to be, and you truly fear for your life then.

“The prince,” he says again. “The prince.”

“My lord, I really think you should leave now,” you say, moving towards your door slowly. As you take a few steps, Barun lets out a huff, his eyes locked on your movements. You stay still, waiting for your opportunity to react, when a pounding comes from the door.

“Y/N!”

“Jace!” you call back, immediate relief seeping through you at his voice. There might be more commotion in the hallway, but you can’t decipher any of it but his voice.

“You whore,” Barun mutters, drawing your attention back to him. “You fucking whore!”

“Please, let’s just end this peacefully,” you say, again stepping towards the door.

“The prince is going to save you?” Barun asks with a laugh. “Not only are you a whore, you’re stupid, too. He’s not getting close to you. And if he does, I’ll rip—” While he was rambling, you positioned yourself enough that while he is distracted, you shove an end table at him, catching him in the stomach. He hunches over as you run for the door.

The lock won’t turn, your hands are shaking so badly. You hear Barun approaching, and as you finally throw open the door, Barun’s hands grab your arms, pulling you back.

“Not so fast,” he mutters. You fall to your knees, trying to break away from him, but his grip only tightens, this time in your hair, as he drags you across the room. Jace runs in with Joffrey in tow.

“Let her go, Blacktyde!” Joffrey yells, his face paling when he sees you. Barun stops moving and lets go of your hair when he sees them.

“Oh, Y/N, look who it is,” he says. In response, you kick his leg, knocking him to his knees. You make to move from him, but he grabs your ankle in the last second. Jace and Joffrey run at him, pulling him back, but not before you get a kick to his face.

Barun punches Joffrey hard, knocking him against the far wall. As Jace continues to hit him, taking his fair share of punches, you struggle to stand up. As you do, you see Barun reach for the knife at his side.

“No!” you scream, running towards them. You grab the back of Barun’s shirt, pulling him back as hard as you can, until the knife falls from his hand.

“Stupid bitch!” he bellows, turning around quickly, his hand outstretched. Pain erupts across your face as his back-handed slap hits. For a moment, you cannot see anything. But when your vision clears, you see Barun, his hands wrapped around Jace’s neck, and in that moment, you know it’s one or the other. He is never going to stop. There is no deal to be made where he will be happy enough to let you go.

As you get to your feet, the knife on the floor glitters in the light. You take it in your hand, trying not to hear the sounds of Jace’s struggle, Joffrey's grunts of pain as he tries to stand. All your focus is on the move Jace taught you, so many months back, on the sparring grounds. The knife is much shorter than the sword you had practiced on, but the movement is the same. Your aim is the same.

Centering yourself, you get a tight grip on the knife. It is Jace or Barun, you remind yourself. Jace or Barun.

You lunge.

For a moment, looking at the knife wedged into Barun’s lower back, you think you’ve must have missed, angled incorrectly. But then, red starts to seep across his back. You step back as Barun drops Jace, who gasps for breath on the floor. Barun looks back at you, shock and betrayal etched on his face.

“You cun—” he coughs, dropping to his knees. He reaches around for the knife, but he can’t reach. Blood begins to pool from his mouth and it’s clear his strength is fading rapidly. While you still have the sense to do so, you move to Jace’s side, helping him sit up. Red marks mar his neck, but he is alive. You wrap an arm around him, and he does the same, both of you watching as Barun takes his final breaths.

For a moment, you just sit there in silent horror, watching the life fade from his eyes. The blood quickly pools around him, at the same time that your breathing quickens. Your adrenaline has cooled quickly. Tears now fall from your face.

Jace notices immediately, tucking you into his arms. He shushes you quietly as Joffrey comes to your side. He quietly checks in with him, noticing the blood dripping from his nose.

“You had to, Y/N,” Joffrey says quietly. The fact only makes your tears come more violently.

"He's right," Jace says, "You had to. He would have killed all of us.”

That night, you stay in Jace’s room. Neither of you want to leave each other’s side. Besides, your room is covered in Barun’s blood.

Jace leaves you alone only long enough to speak with his mother, but even that time isn't long. He is back minutes later, and the look of relief when he sees you again is unmistakable.

Jace holds you tightly when the two of you get into bed. Your arms wrap around him the same, but sleep avails you. Every time you close your eyes, you see Barun’s black ones. Every shift of the castle sounds like his pounding fist. Too often, you look up at Jace, the bruising on his neck, making sure he’s real, that he’s still there. Each time you do, he is already looking at you, too.

“Y/N,” he says softly, brushing your hair back with a gentle hand. “We need to get some sleep.”

“I know,” you say, snuggling closer to his chest. For a while, you are both silent.

“You saved my life, you know,” he says, whisper soft.

“Jace.”

“You did,” he says, the intensity in his voice bringing your eyes to his. “I can never repay yo—”

“Oh shut up,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “I told you, you saved me first, when you promised I could come here. And every moment after. Don’t forget you came to my rescue.”

“Y/N,” he says, hand on your chin, “I’m trying to say thank you.”

“Oh,” you say, smiling gently. “I’d do it again if I had to, for you.”

“I pray you never do."

“I love you, Jace,” you say, He smiles as he brings your lips to his.

“I love you, Y/N.”

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction

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sapchat · 1 year ago

Text

We Are Not Our Fathers

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You get summoned to your mate and Cassian whilst they are on a mission, only to find out there was a surprise at the end of it.

Warnings: mentions of a fight, children, and an argument between two lovers.

Words: 5k

Part 1: You are here! Part 2

Fun fact: this is technically my third fanfic now, cuz I’ve got a part one for something else and I’m writing part two, I just got this idea yesterday while listening to this playlist and was like “I need angst, azriel, his mate and a child.”

Azriel and Cassian had been at one of the Illyrian camps investigating rumors of… something. You hadn’t been paying attention when your mate told you why, he’d been getting dressed while telling. So, you could see the distraction at the time. It had been at least two hours since your mate had left and you got summoned down the bond, and a shadow seemed to tug at your hand.

So, following the bond you appeared in a typical Illyrian Steppes living room, with Azriel at the top of the steps.

“Hey, we uh, need you up here. We thought we were done but Cass found someone.” Azriel said meeting me at the bottom of the steps and grabbing a hand, rubbing his fingers on my wrist. He picked the habit up a few years into our bond, he says it keeps him grounded, especially after or during missions like these. Nodding my head, I followed the narrow steps behind him to see Cassian standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, there was a smidge of blood on the side of a wall, so I wasn’t sure what I was going to walk in on.

A little winged child was not what I was expecting. Cassian looked at me sheepishly then nodded to the side so the three of us could talk.

“So, I’m going to assume we didn’t know there was a child here?” I asked leaning against the wall.

“From what we could tell there were no reports of a child when we first started getting reports of the retaliation happening. My shadows also didn’t pick up on a child when we got here, so either he was just hiding really well because of the guests in the house, or he snuck in.” Azriel responded.

“Any idea how much he heard? Or what does his parental situation look like?” I asked, I needed to know how bad this situation could be. Especially if this child doesn’t have a family because of its father’s or mother’s choices.

“For the most part, some of them went easy. Only three of ‘em put up any real fight, hence some of the blood there by your head,” Cassian started.

“Ew, thanks for telling me that one.” I’ll just shuffle to the side.

“As for a possible guardian, he hasn’t answered any questions. He did call me a bastard though, so I guess he has listened to something while around them.” Cassian finished. He seemed almost more stressed than I. I assume because he’s become quite partial to being babysitter for Nyx in the last few months for Feyre and Rhysand to be able to go out.

“What do you think, he’s probably what four, maybe five. You have more experience in working with kids, and with Madja, what do you think his outcome is with what he’s been dealt.” Azriel asked, dragging a scarred hand down his face.

“All children are different. One could experience something awful like the death of a parent and not remember anything about it. Others could never recover from it and grow up acting out the rest of their lives. It’s just a matter of how they get help. And knowing this camp, they probably won’t get much mental help at all. You two should know that” It’s not what they wanted to hear I imagine, but it was the truth. “So, what’s the plan? I assume if you have summoned me here you want me to go talk to him?”

“Yea actually, that’s exactly what so thanks for offering that so we don’t have to ask.” Cassian states rubbing the back of his head. Little shit.

Sighing, I turn my eyes to my mates, who just shrugged. I’ve been left here with the two most awkward people when it comes to random kids. Such a surprise came from the man-child Cassian himself. I roll my eyes, but send something to calm down the bond, and turn to go into the room.

The child is on the smaller side, evidence of the winter that’s still in the mountains so it’s evident his family doesn’t have much money for food. He’s got some dirt on his clothes so he’s either been out playing today or he just doesn’t have many clothing options. His wings were on the smaller side for what we assume his age group is, so he either is just going to have slightly smaller wings, or he’s developmentally delayed for his possible age. Probably due to the lack of food and hygiene.

I step slowly into the room, trying to make my slightly tall frame smaller. “Hi there. What’s your name?”

The little boy looked at me with wide hazel eyes, a twinkle in it that I couldn’t tell meant he was scared or intrigued by my presence. “Hawthorne.”

“Hawthorne huh?” You ask, then tell him your name, “Are you okay Hawthorne?” I ask him, he sits up just a little taller, a twitch in his bat-like wing following after.

He nodded his head in response, and I nodded back in understanding. “I was wondering who you were here with buddy? It’s okay if I call you buddy, right?”

“I was with my daddy. and I don’t know if you can call me buddy. Daddy’s usually the only one that does. Daddy said it’s cause we’re friends, but I don’t know you.” He answers sheepishly looking around my body towards the end, telling me I have a shadow, likely two of them.

“Well, if I tell you something about me, and then you tell me something, then we would be friends, wouldn’t we?” He hesitates, thinking about the question then nods his head quickly.

“Okay, well you know my name already,” I say then move to sit on the corner of the bed and make it seem like I’m thinking about my fact, “One of my favorite things ever, is getting to go and watch the sunrise or sunset as it comes up or down, and it shine on the soft snow. It’s really pretty.” I say, his head perks up a little at what I tell him.

“I like that too! I also like it when it storms, 'cause that means I don’t have to go out and I get to stay inside with my daddy.” He says. I smile at his enthusiasm of getting to share something we both like.

“I’ll tell you another secret then.” His eyes get really wide, and I feel a questioning brush through the bond. “I also like it when it storms. Because that means I get to stay inside with my friends.”

“Are they your friends?” Hawthorne asks looking at Cassian and Azriel behind me.

“Yeah, those are my really good friends, Cassian and Azriel. They… came to talk to the people that were downstairs. Did you know them?” I ask, glancing at the two males behind me, who are trying to seem small, but with the size of Cassian and Azriel’s wings. They’re failing.

“It was my daddy and their friends. I heard lots of yelling. And that they called your friends bastards. So, I did when they came up here. Where is my daddy?” I looked at Azriel for an answer, he looked down and then at Hawthorne.

“We took your father somewhere so we could talk with them. Do you have a mother we could take you to? Or anyone else.” Azriel answered the child.

Hawthorne shook his head no, “Daddy says mommy died when I was little, even smaller than now. And daddy says I’m the only thing he has left. But I think that’s silly 'cause we have neighbors!”

I sigh and look at my mate and Cassian, I then look back to the hallway and back to the child, “Hawthorn I’m going to go talk with my friends really quick, are you okay here?” The boy nods his head and watches as the three of us leave the room.

It’s now my turn to rub my hands down my face. “What do we do with him? I assume mom either died in childbirth or from sickness. And now we’ve got dad where he’s going to probably be punished for what they’ve been planning.”

Cassian almost winces at the last part, “His father was one of the people to put up a fight. We’ve got him in Hewn City right now, one of the others said he’s the ring leader for wanting to try and get rid of Rhys, and ‘go back to the old ways.’”

“Gotta love males and their ever-needing reason to be on top,” Azriel said laying back against the wall across from me, one of his feet resting between my ankles.

“We asked Rhys what he thought. He thinks it should be up to you.” Cassian said.

I processed the question for a second. Thinking about the options that are available. If Hawthorne stays, he’ll be homeless, wandering the streets like Cassian did; and based on how he looks already, he probably wouldn’t last long. Or taking him with us. To Velaris and trying to find him a place there. He could stay in the House of Wind until we find somewhere or someone.

I look at Azriel and he nods, knowing what I’m going to decide. If I had it my way, there would be no children wandering the roads here in the camps. But the orphanage idea has been slow, Devlon the only one wanting to even entertain the idea.

“Take him with us. He’ll be better off in Velaris, and until we can find somewhere permanent, he can stay in the House with us all.” I say, Cassian nods knowing I’m making the decision based on what he’s told me of his past before Rhys and his mother.

“Looks like you’ll get a friend Cassian, I’ll be sure to set up playdates.” Azriel says pushing off the way and patting his brother on the back.

Cassian had a shocked look on his face, eyes following Azriel as he followed me back into the room Hawthorne was patiently waiting in.

“Hey, Hawthorne? How about you come with me and my friends for a little bit, until we can see if your father gets into trouble, okay?” I asked going in and sitting on his bed, angling my body to be eye level with the winged boy. He seemed to sit and think about it for a second, then spared Azriel a questioning look before looking back at me.

“Will I still get to do my training?”

My eyes widen just a tad. Training at five? I look over my shoulder to Cassian and Azriel in question.

“Yeah me, and Cassian can help with that. We’re both really going at flying so we can help you learn some.” Azriel told the child, putting a lot of emphasis on them being so good at flying. This seemed to make the boy happy.

“Okay then. I guess I’ll come with you. But I get to bring my toys!”

“We wouldn’t expect you to leave them behind buddy. Now where are your clothes?” I said standing from the bed and ruffling my fingers through his dark brown almost black hair.

Hawthorne jumped from the bed, his little wings flapping as he did, and ran to the dresser in the corner of the room. He pulled open a drawer almost at eye level and grabbed what little clothes sat in there. “Here they are!” He ran back over and handed them to me. He only had two shirts and another pair of pants, plus only a few pairs of undergarments.

I looked in the direction of my mate and he nodded at what I was thinking. We’ll have to get him some more clothes. I held my hand out and Azriel summoned a bag from the shadows and handed it to me. I usually use it for the farmers market, but I’ll just get a new one.

“Okay, bubs, come here and I’ll hold you while Azriel takes us back to the house.” The boy hopped over with a questioning look on his face.

“He’s going to fly both of us to your house?”

“Nope! He’s going to do something called winnow, which means,” I sat for a second thinking how to explain this to a child, “he’ll grab my and Cassian's hand, and then we’ll disappear and then reappear in the house!” Yeah, that was a great explanation.

Hawthorne seemed to question it for a second, then came over and all but crawled up into my arms. I moved the bag to my shoulder and then joined Azriel and Cassian. The three of us all looked at each other as if questioning what I’d decided.

And into the shadows we went, only for Azriel to then grab onto me tighter to glide us down to the balcony of the House of Wind. Hawthorne gripped my neck tighter looking around at all he could see of Velaris. And I knew I had made a good decision for the boy.

Feet touching the ground Hawthorne all but leaped from my arms to run and look over the balcony, pulling himself up by using his feet on the spindles to gain leverage to look out. Mouth opening by the second, I leaned back against Az watching the boy. He’s never seen so many people at once living in such a beautiful place.

“Hawthorne, wanna go get a quick snack before we get you cleaned up in a tub?” I asked leaving my mates front to join the boy at the railing. He looked up at me with wide eyes before looking back out towards the Sidra. “It’ll all still be here when we’re done. And if you’re not tired then you can even see it once the sun goes down. It looks even better.” He turned back with a slightly toothless grin and nodded enthusiastically, jumping from the side, and gripping my hand swinging from it.

Walking into the sitting room I walked the boy towards the kitchen. Already sitting on the counter was a little dinner for the boy, the House instantly knowing what was needed of it. I helped him up onto a stool he quickly dug into his dinner.

“Easy now, don’t want to eat too fast and make yourself sick,” I advised brushing a finger across his back. I walked around the counter and grabbed a small cup and filled it with water so he could drink as well.

Once he was done eating, he quickly gulped down the water and brushed his mouth on his hand, then proceeded to wipe the hand on his shirt. Boys. I grabbed him before he had a chance to run off and walked him up to mine and Azriel’s bathing room where Az sat pouring a few drops of bubbles into the bath.

I set Hawthorne down on the ground and allowed him to undress so he could climb in the bath and gave my mate a quick peck on the cheek in thanks. Admiration flowed down his side of the bond as I leaned over and started wetting Hawthorne’s hair. He splashed around a little playing with the bubbles as I washed the grime off of him.

Once I was done, I grinned and grabbed a handful of bubbles and placed them on his head. The little Illyrian quickly looked up at me and proceeded to grin. And without a moment's notice he flapped his wings in the water spraying water all over me.

We both sat in silence for a little bit, me in shock and him with a look that said, ‘Uh oh’. Then I started laughing, and Hawthorne quickly realized he wasn’t in trouble for getting water over me.

After his bath, and the fight of drying him off, and the battle of getting him dressed. I did as I had promised and walked him back to one of the balconies so he could watch the ending of the sunset and all the lights of Velaris come on. We sat quickly, him in amazement, me writing down some reports to send to Rhys in the morning.

It was in the middle of the night I was awoken to one of Azriels shadows, Azriel rousing from sleep himself and moving a wing off of me to see what was happening. Then I heard soft padding down the hall, and a shuffling of wings. I then heard the door move a bit as someone jumped and grabbed the doorknob, and the door quietly moved open.

Raising our heads, we were greeted with Hawthorne sniffling as he waddled into the room. He looked up at the two of us from the foot of the bed, glancing back and forth. I glanced at Azriel and silently asked if he’d allow the boy in the bed with us.

Azriel looked at me, then flopped back on his stomach and grumbled “Once you feed them and let them sleep in the bed, they end up staying. Look at Cass.”

I lightly slapped his arm and raised up more and nodded to my side of the bed. Hawthorne quickly shuffled over and climbed his way into the bed and my arms. “Wanna talk about it?” I quietly asked.

He shook his head and placed his wet face into my neck. I hummed an okay and moved the blankets back over us and went back to sleep, Azriel’s wing shifting back over as he moved around.

In the morning I awoke to an empty bed, not unusual with Az doing morning training, but I distinctly remember a little boy crawling into the bed in the night as well.

Climbing out of bed, a shadow greeted me happily and started leading me in the direction of the living room; and was greeted by Cassian holding the boy in the air telling him to get ready, and Azriel sat in a chair drinking tea.

“If he breaks something Cassian, you get to tell Rhys.” I said, walking further into the room and joining Azriel on the armrest, his hand wrapping around my hip and patting it. Azriel tilted his head in a way saying, ‘That’ll be fun’ and went back to his morning readings.

“Hey, we learn to fly by being dropped from different heights, I figured you prefer it in the living room, where he could land on the couch.” The general replied, letting go of the boy and allowing him to flap-glide his way to the couch in question.

I let the two continue and looked down to my mate, “Wanna join me in the kitchen, so we could talk about H-A-W-T-H-O-R-N-E’s F-A-T-H-E-R?” He nodded his head and took my hand to lead me in the direction of said room. Already on the counter was my breakfast, courtesy of the house which I thanked, and a steaming glass of coffee.

“I went earlier this morning. He’s not wanting to give us anything. Rhys wants to make an example of them.” Azriel said going straight to the point. I looked up from putting jam on my toast, my eyes trailing to the sounds of the child’s laughter and Cassians' praise.

“What about Hawthorne?”

Azriel sighed, already knowing I wasn’t going to let this go without a fight. Either with him or our High Lord. “Rhys is going to leave that up to you. His recommendation thought was to find someplace around Velaris so he wouldn’t be in a camp where issues may arise in the future. When he’s older.”

I looked sharply up at what he said. “What is that supposed to mean?” I made sure to keep my voice somewhat low so as to not raise attention to us.

“We both know what he means. He’s just trying to cover future bases because he has Nyx now.” Azriel tried to calm down, resting a hand on top of mine. I pulled it back from him immediately.

“No Azriel I don’t know what you mean. He’s a child what are you two trying to say?” I was angry. He’s five, if that. What was there to possibly worry about to ‘keep an eye on him in the future.’

Azriel said your name then continued, “His father was plotting to get a group of people to kill Rhys. Maybe worse.” Azriel almost seemed angry at the position I had taken, in defending this threat against his High Lord. But the threat was a child.

I glared at Azriel and all but snarled when I said, “Sons are NOT their fathers Azriel. You of all people should know that.” I even pointed in his direction for emphasis on my statement, his hazel eyes going wide in surprise at it. Shock and hurt flowed down the bond, and I pushed my feelings of anger towards him.

Turning I leave my breakfast to go join Cassian and the deemed threat in the other room to watch him stretch his wings.

It was later in the evening, after playing with the child and having Cassian take us down to the shopping district so he could have more clothes that I had finally let myself think about the argument from earlier in the day. I had already put Hawthorne to bed almost two hours ago and was down in the kitchen sipping wine. Setting the glass down on the counter I ran my hands down my face in frustration, and then came some shuffling.

Turning my head, I expected Azriel but found Hawthorne. Bleary-eyed from what little sleep he got. “Hey, what are you doing back up, it’s late.”

The little dark-haired child rubbed his eyes, his other hand gripping a little black cat stuffed animal he begged to have. “I have trouble sleeping in the bed. It’s super soft.” His eyebrows furrowed together and then he said, “The shadows also keep me awake by playing with my hair.”

A few of Azriel’s shadows had taken a little liking to the boy, much unlike their master, it seemed. “Well. Since you’re awake, want some hot chocolate?” I asked, the boy seemed confused at my words and asked what hot chocolate was. “Hot cocoa?” He shook his head in confusion again.

“Come on, I’ll make us some cups and you can try it,” I said lifting him up to sit on the counter and wiped my finger at some of the dried drool on his cheek.

Turning to a cabinet, I grabbed two mugs to set beside him and continued to pull supplies out to make the cocoa. Hawthorne watched every move I made, measuring out the ingredients, putting them into a pot to warm up, and even helping stir every now and then. Once it was done, I moved it over to the side to allow it to cool a bit more before putting the drink into the mugs.

“Now here’s the fun part. I like to add some extra things to mine.”

Hawthorne seemed interested in whatever it was I was going to add.

“I like to take this white stuff, called whipped cream, and put it on top, then add this stuff here called cinnamon. Do you wanna try mine and see if you like it for yours?” I asked, Hawthorne seemed to think deeply about it, furrowed eyebrows, and all then eagerly nodded his head. I carefully handed him my cup and he took a little sip, whip cream getting on his upper lip and nose, then made a loud ‘ahh’ sound after gulping it down.

“I’d like some please!” The boy eagerly handed my mug back and watched me add it to his smaller mug.

We sat side by side sipping at our drinks, Hawthorne’s eyes drooping more and more as he drank before he set his almost empty mug on the counter and yawned.

“Ready to go back to bed?” He seemed a little hesitant and then said something that broke my heart.

“I don’t wanna sleep by myself, I’m scared someone’s going to come and get me.” He didn’t want to make eye contact.

I looked at him a little inquisitively, “Why do you think someone’s coming to get you?”

“Well, I really liked being with Daddy, even if I didn’t get much food. And then you guys came and took my daddy and me, because daddy was being bad. But you have been really nice, and Cassin has been helping me fly, and even though Azzie don’t like me he still lets me play with his shadows, and you guys have food and it’s warm-“ I stopped him before he could continue working himself up.

“Hawthorne, you don’t have to go back to the camp if you don’t want to. You know that right?” I said rubbing his hand in a comforting way.

He seemed sheepish as he nodded then asked, “I would get to stay here with you? And Cassin and Azzie?”

I sighed trying to think of an answer, “I don’t know if you’d get to stay with us. You could go to another place that would love you very much.”

Hawthorne didn’t like that answer. Tears forming in his little hazel eyes, lips wobbling, and I knew I needed to backtrack.

“Hey, how about this buddy?” He sniffed and ran a hand over his eye, “How about we pause this conversation, and me and you go sleep? Then we can talk when I get some answers.” Answers only the Inner Circle could answer.

It took Hawthorne only 20 minutes to fall back to sleep in his room and me another hour lying beside Azriel. It was early morning when I awoke to Azriel getting up himself.

“Think you could call a meeting about little bits?” I asked rubbing my hands down my face.

Azriel sighed and sat back in the bed beside me. “You shouldn’t get attached to him; you know that. And it’s not that I think that he’s going to become his father or that I hate him. I heard you guys’ last night, and what you both talked about.” He sat there for a second licking his lips as I cringed knowing he heard us, “I do like him. He’s a sweet kid, and I’m glad he’s had a better life than most Illyrians-”

I stopped him, “I didn’t mean what I said yesterday. I know you’re not your father and I should’ve never. Ever. Compared you to him.”

“I know. You were angry and believed you had to defend him. I’m proud of you for that. But if you really want to discuss what happens with him, then I think we should talk.” Azriel said, grabbing my hand and holding it as he laid back across my stomach.

I nodded, and we started talking. About all outcomes for Hawthorne. What would happen to him, how he’d be raised, all of it. Then we went to the River House. And I joined the Inner Circle as we talked about him. Rhysand’s concerns, Amren’s and Mor’s surprise, Feyre’s support in what would happen, and how it would all be dealt with.

At the end we had an answer.

It was later in the day that I asked Hawthorne if he wanted to go walk around town with Azriel. I was slowly walking behind as Azriel walked somewhat awkwardly with the boy, talking with him as Hawthorne was eagerly pointing around at different shops.

Hawthorne’s eyes widened and grabbed Azriels’ hand, the older Illyrian tensing up at the innocent little child grabbing his scarred hands and dragged him over to a bakery to press his face into the window and stare at the sweets.

“Can we go in there?” Hawthorne asked eagerly looking between Azriel and me. Azriel looked to me for some guidance, letting me control the situation. Nodding my head, Azriel led the three of us into the bakery and let the boy pick what he wanted and got me my favorite treat too.

I led Hawthorne back outside so we could eat, take in the sights, and talk to Hawthorne like we needed to.

“Hey Hawthrone, remember the conversation from last night? Can me and Azriel talk to you about it?” Hawthrone seemed more downtrodden at the reminder of last night but nodded his head.

“Hawthorne, I got to visit your dad before we left, and I just wanted you to know that he isn’t going to be able to come home. And because of that, we need to find you a good home.” Azriel started out, not telling the boy his father wasn’t going to come home. Rhys did have to make an example and couldn’t just pardon him because he had a son.

“Azriel and I have been talking with some people, and we’re wondering what you want to do,” I said, handing the boy a napkin to clean his face as he ate. He glanced between Azriel and me, then down at the table.

“Where would I go if Daddy can’t take me?” he asked shyly.

“Well, we could find you a loving home here, in the city. Where you would be cared for and get to learn all kinds of things with kids your age and everything. Another choice is we find you a home back at your camp, somewhere that’d be able to care for you, and you’d get to be with other Illyrians your age.” Hawthorne seemed to think the two options over. Then Azriel looked at me and I nodded.

“Or” Azriel started, “You could stay with us, and we could raise you. Then you’d stay with Cassian and us, get to meet the High Lord and Lady, and all our friends, while going to school here in Velaris. And in a few years, we’d take you to a camp called Windhaven and you’d train to be a warrior.” Hawthorne’s eyes got wider and wider as Azriel continued, looking back and forth between us two, his grin starting to match mine.

“So. Which would yo-“ Azriel didn’t finish as the tiny Illyrian lunged over the table into both of us.

“YOU I WANNA STAY WITH YOU!” Hawthorne yelled excitedly, gripping the both of us as I laughed.

Azriel looked at me, love flowing down the bond and him receiving the same back from me at the new addition to the family.

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misspermitted · 29 days ago

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Random Vampire Diaries discourse but I’ve been thinking about Bonnie and Kai and why they interest me so much. Because usually TVD’s sexually charged “he’s a terrible person but he’s infatuated with you” thing doesn’t interest me. Like I enjoy watching Klaroline and Delena as a guilty pleasure, but it doesn’t interest me. He’s just obsessed with her, and she eventually brings out the good in him, yada yada the messed up toxic guy brings out her dark side yada yada, she realises her power and so on. And I just don’t really care. I just watch it, and then I move on. I don’t linger on it for days and think about the characters.

But this random Bonnie and Kai thing that went on for 10 episodes, for some reason every so often I just think about them for days on end. And I reckon it’s because what the actors were setting up with them was really unique and not that trope. But then, since TVD is really badly written, after the prison arc they tried to turn it into the “guy is infatuated and redeems for her” and Chris Wood (who plays Kai) legitimately refuses to act that (which, like, good on him). So then they dropped the Bonnie/Kai storyline and just made him a villain.

But what were they then? At least originally? Because every time I get obsessed with these characters I go into fanon and it ruins my obsession, because it’s just that whole “evil guy is infatuated” thing all over again and it just doesn’t feel like them.

So let’s go through my reading of the Bonnie/Kai prison arc:

For me, what originally caught my attention about these two was that I thought Bonnie was the actually obsessed one. At least at first.

How Bonnie acts during their first scenes together

Bonnie spends seasons without her magic and this random guy shows up and gets under her skin so much she actually unlocks it? What? And the reason given is that she needed to save Damon but the spirits had straight up taken her magic. Her friends have been in life and death situations for ages and she couldn’t do anything about it to the point where she takes on dark magic. Clearly it is not just a desire to save her friends that unlocks it. And her becoming anchor does not change the fact that it had been confiscated. Forever. Who is this random guy that got her to unlock it by just taunting her?

And then she spends the whole first few conversations legitimately flirting back with this guy. Who just tried to kill her friend. When Bonnie doesn’t flirt with people. Like we have never seen Bonnie (until now, no bonenzo erasure) actually be interested in any villain ever. She typically just glares at them.

And that’s something that gets me about their dynamic. Bonnie acts so different around Kai than she does with anyone else. When Bonnie has dealt with evil sociopaths before. This guy is not new.

Bonnie tries to kill Kai (the first time)

What does Bonnie do when dealing with evil vampires or evil warlocks? Usually shes the one who is the voice of reason. With the plan. Who comes in at the end and saves everyone. Not Kai. She straight up throws an axe at him. On a hunch. When he actually hasn’t done anything that bad.

Bonnie doesn’t kill people a lot before this point. Unless she thinks it’s necessary. And they have to have done something really bad and she actually seems upset afterwards. But not Kai. Literally all he does is threaten them a little, offer to be friends, and kill his family 20 years before. Which is incredibly low stakes given the other stuff people do in TVD. Why does he get under her skin so much?

It’s so weird to me that she’s so against letting him out. I mean Bonnie is stubborn and has a strong sense of justice, but she also does bad stuff for the greater good. It’s far more like her to let him out for the greater good of getting them both out, and then stop him. But she’s not actually being reasonable.

Even Damon calls her on it. How she’s acting more impulsive and negative than he is. Just because Kai exists. It’s a level of caring and irritation that we don’t actually see from Bonnie a lot, who is usually cool and collected and strong.

How Kai acts in most of the prison world arc together

Kai meanwhile acts towards her how he later acts towards Elena. Flirty and off putting. Though he does later seem to realise that Bonnie is legitimately impressive and useful in a way that he decides Elena isn’t (which is just factually true). But Kai (in the first half) is a sociopath who uses people for his own benefit, and that is exactly how he treats Bonnie.

Especially later, after Damon is gone, he tries to play the sympathy card so many times and the “you’re different” tactic, but it’s all a lie and Bonnie is aware of it. And this it the other thing that I love about their dynamic, Bonnie is clearly very diverted and unsettled by this guy, but she is not an idiot. She has watched Caroline and Elena both fall for bad boys saying that they'll "change" for them. And she has spent the whole time saying they're being incredibly stupid. And she doesn’t turn from that awareness.

In my opinion, that’s the first thing that makes Kai act differently around her, the realisation that she is not gonna fall for any of that. He waits four months to manipulate them, and then suddenly is really impatient about when to do the spell? Why? And I think it’s because he realises that he’s not gonna get her to agree for long. She’s too observant. She figured out who he was so goddamn quickly. And she’s only gonna be scared for so long.

Kai takes her to his house

It’s so weird for Kai to take her to his house. He knew how to get out. He could’ve just left her. And it would’ve been less risky, since it’s clear at this point that he treats her as a danger.

Like he could just kill her. It would be safer to kill her. Bur he doesn’t. He brings her to his house. To gloat? He never seems interested in doing that before now. He’s cool for them to view him as irritating or a child or something to be scared of, depends on what’s useful. You don’t even see him gloat to Jo.

And this actually makes sense. Kai doesn’t care. Why would he need to gloat. He has a goal and he just needs to achieve it. Once he achieves it his revenge will be done and he will have won. He doesn’t have to villain monologue. He won. That’s satisfying enough.

In my opinion this is where Kai stops acting normal towards Bonnie. Like she’s just something to use for his goal. Or, rather, his goal changes.

Kai says he brings Bonnie to his house because he’s never had someone to share it with before. I feel like he might actually be telling the truth here, because it’s the only thing that makes sense.

Kai tries to manipulate Bonnie the day before wearing all his possible masks. An abomination making her scared and powerless. A misunderstood monster playing on sympathy, flattering her and saying he wants to be like her. And he believes it works. But it doesn’t. Bonnie not only outsmarts him, she outsmarts him and mocks the masks he wore. She take his manipulative bear that is supposed to be his attempts at fake kindness, and literally sends it away. He spends the whole first half of the day repeatedly trying to scare her and make her feel powerless, and her counter plan is all about how she is not powerless at all. He’s not in control. He needs her magic. And that’s hers. She controls it. And now it’s not here anymore. You’re welcome 😇

And while this is incredibly iconic of Bonnie, and irritating for him, it also means Bonnie sees past all those masks. For a guy who’s clearly used to pretending. For a guy who was always seen as an abomination even when he wasn’t. It clearly interests him that she actually just doesn’t see him as a monster, at least in any superficial way that he can use. Bonnie Bennet knew him well enough to know that he was lying.

So Kai brings Bonnie to the place where all of his memories are. Where he grew up. Where he killed his family and the blood is still there. And it’s clearly not to gain her trust through being misunderstood (the blood is still there, and he shows absolutely no attempt at remorse). And he is legitimately cordial and doesn’t restrain her, so he’s not purposefully trying to make her powerless or scared. So what’s his angle?

This is the thing, where Kai acts different as well. He shows resentment about his upbringing when he mentions it, not sadness or any pity based emotions. He babbles and cooks because he (as we learn) likes cooking. Bonnie later interprets it as him trying to gain her trust just to betray her out of sadism, but 1. Kai isn’t actually a sadist. Kai likes control, and can get angry and violent. He doesn’t care if he’s stabbing someone or not. We see it as he gets out, violence and manipulation is a means to an end. Always. And there is no end aside from revenge for him to try to betray Bonnie. Especially because Bonnie has been very clear that she will not trust him.

Then there’s the fact that he is not, as we’ve addressed, actually doing anything that would lead to trust. None of the previous masks. He’s actually being very open and generally having dinner with a psycho in the house covered in blood stains from when he killed children is not a trust building exercise. (Honestly, kind of weird that she thinks it was supposed to be. What, were you actually warming up to him during that dinner? A little suspicious Bonnie.)

But if, instead, Kai is doing all this to share himself with Bonnie. To be seen. He’s so irritated when she doesn’t understand: “Can’t you see I’m trying to apologise?” And then she very clearly states that she is not interested in spending any time with him, seeing anything, sharing anything, aside from the last dinner.

And we wonder why he puts it off, if his entire plan is just to stab her, leave, and gloat with a pager. Why does he drag the dinner longer than necessary? He’s about to leave, he’s been impatient to leave this entire time, but he actually puts it off. There is no reason to. He’s about to be around so many people to communicate with, but he wants to spend as much time with Bonnie as possible. Why??

And if the ascendant can only be used in the Mystic Falls tunnels, and he flies all the way to Portland, and it’s getting dark when he grabs the knife in the tree stump, then he puts off his return for an entire day. Just to eat spaghetti. Really slowly.

It only makes sense if he’s there specifically because his goal is to hang out with her. He wants to share. She pretty much acknowledges this and says she will never, ever care or like him. Stop trying to share with her. Leave her alone. Which, if he’s this excited about being seen, would be infuriating for him.

How Bonnie acts after he leaves

What really got me about the whole arc, though, is how Bonnie talks about what happens. Because that really shows how weird these two are.

Bonnie is furious with Kai and when she’s explaining what she went through to Damon, and doesn’t emphasise the stabbing or the manipulation as the worst part, but that Kai left her. All alone. He abandoned her.

Which is crazy, because that is so intimate for a complaint. But that is what she holds on to. Damon didn’t abandon her, even though he did. Her friends didn’t abandon her, even though they did. This random sociopathic guy abandoned her. Bonnie has the opposite of an abandonment complex, she is constantly overlooked and left and never gets mad about it, except this one time. With Kai. Who there shouldn’t have even been expectations about.

But it’s clear they were both aware there was. Despite Kai promising to leave her alone after a last dinner, his message isn’t “have fun” or something like that, it’s “I lied.” But he didn’t lie? He left her alone?

It’s like they were both aware that he was sharing and there was an expectation there. Where she would say she wanted to be left alone but he wouldn’t do it anyway, and she would keep paying attention anyway. That they were gonna play the “follow you around” intimacy game. Except Kai is like, woops jokes on you I can get out and I’m not taking you with me. Even though it was a given that I was gonna try to win you over, for fun. I know the hell I just condemned you to, enjoy.

Post Kai getting emotions (sort of)

And this reading gives an entirely new light to their first interactions post Kai getting emotions and how furious she is that he is trying to get her attention. Because fuck off, I gave you my attention and you left me. We’re not doing that again. You get nothing from me.

And also why he can’t stop thinking about her. Let’s be honest, the “I want to be forgiven” is bullshit. It’s far more, “I’m a new me and I want to be seen.” And Bonnie just refuses to. Not this time. I will not understand Kai as more than a monster. He doesn’t deserve that from me.

Kai asks her to spend the afternoon with her and she says no. Fuck you. You don’t get me to willingly walk into your house again. Fuck off.

It’s just so weird and personal especially to Bonnie. Like this is where I think they were getting Bonkai wrong. Kai is always shown as so unbelievably obsessed with her, but he doesn’t really think about her until she gets back. And it’s with the same weird determination that Kai gets about all goals.

It’s Bonnie who is so out of character. Despite all the stuff she’s been through and abuse she’s suffered, it’s Kai somehow that changes her. And makes her more emotional. Bonnie is the one that is weirdly touchy about it all and structures her life around (not) seeing him. Bonnie is the one that’s unreasonable about her reactions to him.

And it was so fun seeing a female character, especially the “saviour” female character, be so concerningly “enemies to lovers” obsessive over a guy, and the guy being so oblivious to it. Like it’s funny seeing all of Bonnie’s friends go “maybe you should chill out about Kai” and her just go “NO.” Meanwhile Kai’s just over here like “so Bonnie can see through everyone including me, so if I can convince her there’s a new me, that’s confirmation that I’ve changed 😊 Ah she’s so pretty I wish she’d stop trying to kill me. But Bonnie’s just like that I guess.” But she’s not. She’s not like that at all!!

I wish they’d explored it more but at the same time, if Julie Plec was gonna fuck it up then I’m okay with them going the villain route.

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ephemerensis · 1 month ago

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Shoreline // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

sorry this took so long lol i’ve developed a stalker and things r getting crazy! face card don’t decline ig. tim and you have different moral values and it makes you feel bad. this is for my ppl with anger issues! not proofread ofc xoxo.

—

For most of your life you couldn’t escape this overwhelming sense of apathy. This is not to say you were heartless, you teared up watching sad movies and felt the lull of your heartstrings when someone had the courage to cry in front of you. Nonetheless, you always felt like you had a seed of anger sown into the pith of your core, instilled in you from birth. So then you were cursed, eternally to feel things too strongly and with a propensity for holding things too tightly. You fought to deny it, because like all creatures— spiteful is your nature but good is your resolve. But the world has a funny way of working the empathy out of a person, or rather people have such a keen sense for selfishness, caring becomes worthless.

And bitterness fills the void; you are justified in this. Which made it so easy to feel the irritation creep under your skin when someone who wronged you was living happily or the impending sense of anger when you were spoken over or whatever other inconvenience you decided to stake your heart out for. None of it mattered, and that’s why you cared so deeply for it.

It got worse when your parents were taken, ripped from you violently, the only people you never had the heart to be spiteful towards. After that, it became incurable. That anger you were born with, that festered in you. There was no escaping it now.

However, the simple truth was that you didn’t need to. You were justified in this. These were the cards you’d been dealt, and if you wanted to move forward you’d have to play a mean game. This is way of the world. Of course, all this changed when you met him.

Kind, benevolent, Tim.

Like all people you’d crossed, when you met him you wanted to look for his flaws, some evil in him you could exploit. Something you could cling to in case he’d gotten close enough to hurt your feelings; an insurance. You turned up empty.

It wasn’t until a month into joining the Batman brigade and getting acquainted with the flow of things that you’d actually spoken. He was always on his own missions you never got the chance. You could never forget the way he smiled at you then, as if all the good in the world were compressed into one person and it were now beaming at you with the shattering force of the gentle sun.

Sitting on the edge of a skyscraper close to sunset, you were peering down at the throng of people moving about their lives like ants in a pile; pouring over each other, melting and blending. In particular you were fixated on a small group of people, shoving each other as they walked and laughing at just about anything anyone said. Everything about them was obnoxious and it made you nauseous. Before you could think anything else, a voice broke you out of your stupor.

“Pretty sure this is my patrol route.” You turned around to see Red Robin walking towards you, fully suited and equipped.

“I’m done with my patrol.” You watched as he approached the edge of the building, kneeling beside you to peek down.

“Then who are we watching?”

You didn’t want to tell him, because they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not lawfully anyway. You were doing it out of spite, out of a grudge you let fester for too long; watching them when they crossed your path hoping they’d choke or something. But you didn’t have to tell him, you were staring hard enough for him to figure it out.

So he pointed at them and you confirmed. And he asked you about it and you denied everything. The only explanation you could offer was that they did something wrong to you, and that was all.

His interest in the matter confused you, more so you were used to people ignoring what didn’t serve them. They’d only listen to give you vague advice and feel good for it, or because they felt an obligation, or something similar. But he’d never met you, and he hadn’t a thing to say to you after. He just sat and watched.

It was only after a couple minutes that he spoke again, “don’t you think it’s a waste of time?”

“What?” His question caught you off guard. Out of all the things you were expecting him to say, this wasn’t among them. It was surprising enough that he lingered this long when there was nothing to observe, he was supposed to be patrolling.

“What are you trying to get out of it?” His voice was so even when he talked to you, without an ounce of judgement or malice or sympathy.

You didn’t know what to say because you weren’t sure. Maybe watching them gave you more reasons to hate them, and that justified everything somehow, made you feel better to reinforce that they were terrible. Or maybe you wanted to catch them in the act of something heinous. Would jailing them sate you? Maybe you just needed something bad to happen. Would you save them? And if you didn’t, what does that make you? “…I don’t know.”

You don’t know why, but something in you begged for his approval right then. Something about him spurred on a desire to be liked, more strongly than anyone else had ever made you feel it. Not out of peer pressure or because he was pretty, just because he seemed like he knew better.

“They’re not going to apologize.” You frowned, gaze glued to the people beneath the building. As if he could sense your mood darkening, he cleared his throat to add on.

“You’re right, if you think they did something wrong to you then you’re right. But they won’t believe that, no matter what you do. Forget about it,” he reached over to pat your shoulder in some consolatory manner and that’s when you looked up at him.

With the way he beamed at you, swallowed by the sun, the anger bubbling up in your throat stilled and you knew immediately you’d never be the same after. And he surprised you again, sundering you to the earth with four simple words.

“I’ll believe you instead.”

And it really wasn’t fair after that. As cautious and pessimistic as you were, it was impossible not to like him. For every grievance you could invent, he could conjure the words to sate them, and never with an ounce of animosity or condescension. Tim treated the world with a grace you’d never known to find, as if anger never had a place. And he never looked at you how you saw yourself, pathetic and miserable; he treated you like you were a person, anger, apathy, and all. So of course you liked him, like Icarus to the sun, you felt him soften your waxen morals.

If he ever had an ulterior motive for putting up with you, you’d never known it— nor would you believe anything ill spoken of him for a moment. When you got to know him, really know him, enough to let down your guard, you decided he was what you wanted to stake your life on.

So you did. It wasn’t as if everything negative you felt disappeared overnight. In fact, it never went away at all. But you wanted it to. The closer you got to him, the more you let Tim drive your moral compass, and the less you let your distaste for the world rule you. And everything became about him.

His eyes, his hobbies, his values, his voice, his thoughts. All consuming until you weren’t sure where he ended and you began.

“What are you listening to?” He’d appeared silently and suddenly into your frame of view that day, catching you in one of the very few moments when you were off guard. Face dangling over your book from where you were strewn across the couch, his abrupt appearance broke you out of your own little world and jolted you back to reality. If it were anyone else, you’d be pissed.

Instead you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face, shoving your headphones off and setting your book aside. “It’s this playlist I put together, for reading mostly, since Bruce banned music on patrols.” Before he could ask, you’d already extended the headphones in Tim’s direction and your phone with the playlist open to shortly follow.

“Oh I love this song.” You knew that, of course, and you loved it too. At least you thought you did, but you couldn’t tell the difference. Only that every song you’d included was tailored to his taste, and that you liked them well enough when they played. The surface things that were easy to change or mimic, you did. Because he was perfect.

“Me too,” you whispered. While you were watching him, he glanced at your reading selection with a tender curiosity.

“Is that Kafka? How is it?” With the music blaring over his ears, he spoke just a few decibels too loud for the ambiance the reading room provided. Tim’s voice was warm, echoing off the walls and all encompassing. He must’ve realized it too, sliding them off his ears and setting them down.

“It’s good I think, but I don’t really get it.” Truthfully you were four pages in, but just felt like spontaneously skipping ahead. “I think I should’ve researched Milena first for context.”

As if he were possessed or hit by lightning, Tim suddenly shifted his tone. Quiet and soft like ghosting fingers over skin he said, looking at you suddenly as if you were something delicate, “a living fire, such as I have never seen.”

“…What?” Struck and rooted from the change in his demeanor, you didn’t dare interpret his words. And again he changed, breaking into a grin from where he stood hovered over you.

“It’s pretty right?”He indicated for you to make room, inserting himself next to you. “That’s how Kafka describes Milena. I can give you all the context you need.”

To be clear, it was never one sided, Tim took to you too, even though you didn’t really know why. There were times you thought he saw you as some pity passion philanthropy project, with all his benevolence and understanding. But there were other times when you really thought he liked being around you. It was in the way he watched your face when you talked, prodded you with questions when you thought no one would care about what you had to say, stroked your hair when you were teary eyed. More than liking you, he wanted to know you beyond the mimicry you practiced, and you were equally amazed and terrified about what he saw through the cracks.

In those moments, everything terrible you thought existed about you disappeared. Or at the very least, they weren’t so bad.

Like any other person on the planet you had your terrible days, and especially for emotional hermits like yourself, it was the culmination of all those minor wrongs combined with the tipping point of a negative thought that dragged you under the waves. In those moments you felt like you were drowning, flailing your arms and gasping for air on the way down. Because it was all too much when you finally gave yourself any room to feel, and with your aversion to weakness and vulnerability, you never had anyone to cast you a lifeline. You just had to flail alone; there wasn’t a thing you knew to do about it.

It was no different the day you’d found yourself reeling on the floor of your bedroom, shoulders shaking with your hand clasped firmly over your mouth; being as quiet as you could to reconcile the voice in your head and keep others from hearing as you had a million times before. You don’t know what exactly was so wrong with it, but you could only be honest with yourself like this, when you knew another soul wouldn’t know. But Tim always seemed to have a third sense for these things, and you always seemed to know he’d be coming.

So by the time the worst of it was over, you’d gathered yourself together enough only for your breath to hitch with each heave of your chest. The door knob turned, in he stepped. As usual, he came bustling in with a thought on his lips, already shedding the heavier parts of his suit to your floors and chairs before greeting you.

“Crime fighting on Sundays sucks, it’s like they’re all trying to… Are you crying again?”

“No.” The crack you sounded and the congestion in your voice gave you away before you could defend yourself. Of course, being ever reliable he was by your side in three brisk steps, making the bed dip under his weight beside you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” With your head buried in your arms you could still feel him looking at you.

“No.” Talking, even in the slightest, made it worse. Undoing the progress you’d made in calming yourself, you could feel your heart rate spike again as your feelings came bubbling up. Especially with him around, his clarity and lack of negativity, it was easy to feel filthy next to him.

“Okay.” And you think he knew it too, the way he said nothing and grabbed for your hand while your breath hitched over and over. Only thumbing circles into your palms so you knew he was there, but not too much to overstimulate you. A hug in this state would end you, he feared.

But he eased you into it, reaching to gingerly pat your back when your breathing slowed again. Pulling your head into his shoulder and caressing your skull with his palm if you let him, and you always did. And when you felt bad enough for eating up his time, and needing of resolution, you spoke, “…do you think I’ll ever amount to anything?”

“I think I’m biased. I told you I’d believe in you, didn’t I?” His heartbeat was steady under your cheek, and with your ear pressed to his chest you swore you felt like you were falling into the cavity when he spoke, voice reverberating into your ears. You didn’t know if he was comforting you or dismissing you, but then he always left you a little confused.

“Be nothing for all I care,” he said coolly, “it’ll be the greatest nothing to ever exist. Swallow the sun like an eclipse or tear apart the Earth like a black hole, even in totality you’ll find a way to shine.”

When he spoke to you like that, it was impossible not to entertain it; the idea that you were lovable and worthwhile and good. But you weren’t stupid. If you wanted to believe it, you had to be it. And if you wanted to be it, you had to stay it. Could you? Abandon the only sense of self you’d known?

Tim helped, but he wasn’t a cure, just an excuse. It was woven into your nature after all, that natural born apathy and incessant anger. You felt terrible when you felt it bubble up, the truly mean or spiteful things you’d think of other people. Knowing he wouldn’t do the same and knowing he’d disapprove; in those times you felt like you were the wrong in the world and of course you never acted on these impulses. But you weren’t a deity or a therapist, essence wasn’t so easily changed.

As a result, there were the benign things. The things your selfish heart had normalized so well, you never considered they’d be an object of contest in his eyes. But it wasn’t so much in the way he disapproved of them, more therein that he dismissed them. Arbitrary thoughts and actions that mattered to you, because they were the only parts you thought you had left of yourself, no matter how unserious. And more importantly, they were the bits and pieces that you thought weren’t so bad.

“I had to save that one guy the other day, can you believe that?” The two of you were grabbing ice cream at your favorite local joint. His more so than yours, it didn’t serve cookies and cream and it always melted a little too quick for your liking.

“The one you told me you couldn’t stand?” You nodded, dragging an M&M along the surface of the scoop to watch its color dye the cream. It felt a little bad that you complained enough for Tim to know who you were talking about, but then maybe he was an amazing listener.

“I wanted to drop kick him or something. At the very least I wish I didn’t have to help.” Half truth. More so you wished the man you saved had the courage to thank you after, or at the very least, feel sorry for all the wrong he caused you. But he didn’t know it was you, dressed in your mask and spandex, and even if he did nothing would change. So while the nagging voice in you made you scoop him out of harm’s way, you half wished you dropped him into the pavement mid-swing. Then you wouldn’t feel so bad.

“But you did! That’s something.” He reached over to wipe a bit of cream off your lip with his thumb. It felt dismissive, but this was him approving. This was Tim thinking you were good. And that was worth something.

But of course, the way your brain was wired, you were still bitter. And you still wanted approval for it. Something needed to be said, benign, but enough to sate your anger.

“But it still feels wrong. Hypothetically, if it was raining really bad and he just happened to be in the same building… would it be so bad if I took his umbrella?” A cold. That was the extent of your malice now.

“Well...” Tim shrugged, making it a point to indicate his skepticism.

“But he’s a bad person,” you said eagerly, prodding for him to agree.

He chuckled, shaking his head, “you’re so silly sometimes.”

And with the smile you plastered on your face, no one could tell how little you felt. It was those moments that made you realize your rotten nature was irreversible, every good you’d ever felt was a command given to a dog that listened.

But anger is a feeling that festers, and the less you said, the worse it got. You couldn’t ignore or mask it anymore than you could deny your identity. The rot was there, and it felt terrible, and you were realizing just how disgusting it was. While you always excused yourself as some tragic character, the truth is there are no characters. No plot lines or story arcs you could hide behind. You’re a bitter person because you’re a shitty person, and there’s no cure for that.

So you disrupted your delusions; confronted them for what you were worth. When you came to terms, you understood. You’d never be what he expected. And when he asked you out, officially, one day, you knew what to say.

The sun flooded the room then, despite the drapes being drawn mostly shut. The two of you sprawled over each other on the floor, lounging the comfort of your friendship. For the better half of an hour, you’d been reading shitty poetry you found online together, laughing at the more ridiculous ones as if you could do any better.

When you tired, you laid in silence.

“I like you,” he said. You scoffed, waving your hand dismissively.

“Duh, I like you too.” Tim sat upright, staring down at you with a serious glint in his marine eyes. And your smile faded, staring back in dread and anticipation.

“No, I like you.” It was doomed. Of course you liked him, you weren’t dumb, but not like this. When he continued in your silence, it confirmed it, Tim didn’t know a thing you were thinking. “Would you go out with me?”

His awkward smile and the tilt of his head made it worse. Stupidly angelic as if he couldn’t help it.

“No.”

Something flickered in his eyes and you held your breath, as if he would explode now. If he was confused he was right to be, because everyone knew you liked him. There wasn’t anyone else you got along with.

“What?” His smile faded and you picked yourself off the floor, drawing your knees to you.

“I can’t.”

“But you like me,” he pressed. You couldn’t read his face, it was the same expression he used during training or chess. Blank and defensive, it scared you. If there were a time to crawl back in your shell it’d be now, but you had to be open. He needed to know you were sincere, you needed to be the understanding one.

“But I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t change.” If he were confused that’d be one thing, it would mean you were wrong and he didn’t think as negatively of you as you thought. But he wasn’t confused, whether it be hurt at your misunderstanding or disappointment in your declination, it wasn’t confusion and he knew what you were talking about.

“I’ve never expected that of you.” You knew from the quiver of the corner of his mouth he was upset, hiding it behind his otherwise unfaltering expression.

“But you do. I see it when you look at me,” you responded with a small smile to help indicate you weren’t bitter. Maybe it came out wrong anyway, you’re good at that. “You’re loving and sweet and smart and kind. But I can’t do it, Tim. I can’t be good.”

“I’m not asking you to.” And he looked so puppy like saying it you almost caved.

“I don’t think you’ll like me if I don’t.” The frown he’d been holding back etched itself onto his face. You could tell he wanted to argue. But he was a good person. In Tim’s head you could see the clogs turning, weighing what was worth it; telling you his truth or validating your feelings, considering which would mean the most.

So before he came to conclusion, and said more to change your mind, you interjected. “I’ve thought about it more than you’d know. In some universe we are the perfect match, you are the perfect match for me. Where all your good balances out my incompetence, but not this one. You don’t have the patience and I don’t have the gall. I’m going to make you bitter and you know it. Not this one.”

Tim held your gaze before looking at the floor, and you mourned the loss of drowning in his blue depths, “but if your good balanced out my incompetence?”

You shook your head a little, “I don’t have an ounce you could use. This is all I am and all I’ll ever be.”

“And if I disagreed?”

“You know I’m right, and I’m a little tired of conceding. It’s all I seem to do around you.”

“And if in another universe you said the same thing to me? And the next?” Outside, the weather looked so temperate and effervescent, teasingly steadfast in its resolve. He didn’t sound angry or dejected, just as he normally did. Gentle and even, as he looked at you again with something akin to how the tide felt lapping against your calves. Ebbing and ebbed, and slowly pulling you to its epicenter as you sink into the sand.“In every world you exist, you’ll be afraid. But in this one nothing’s happened. We exist in the same space, in the same time. You have a choice, I want a chance, if you’d accept it. Is it so much to overcome?”

But the tide gets you nothing but wrinkled fingertips and the taste of sand. It was time you pulled yourself out before you couldn’t swim back. Out to chase the shoreline again, in and out, afraid of the water.

“Yes.”

—

@jedidiah1201

#tim drake fanfic #tim drake #tim drake x reader #batman #dc #red robin x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake x gender neutral reader #tim drake angst

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vernons-girl · 9 months ago

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never stopped loving you | lee dino

angsty but sweet,wc:0.9k

A few months back you broke up with your boyfriend Dino.

And you might ask, why would you break up with such a nice boyfriend ?

Well, you were not feeling good. You did not feel like yourself anymore, and nothing felt right, nor fully real. So you decided you needed to spend some time alone to focus on yourself and only yourself because you did not want to hurt anyone’s feeling or make them feel bad about the way you were feeling yourself. So you broke up with your boyfriend. Because he was affected by your state, and you noticed it.

Sometimes you would have mood swings and push him away, he wanted to help you though, he really did, but you knew he could not. He was not the problem but you did not want your relationship with him to become a part of it, so you put an end to it.

The thing is, during that phase you were angry, sad and in pain, but mostly angry. So that resulted in you breaking up with him in a fit of rage without giving him any real motive for your actions, he knew you were not feeling good, so he did not ask more questions and left.

But now, a few months later you felt better, but also guilty. Guilty about the way you treated him at the end of your relationship and guilty about how you broke up with him. So one evening you decided to text him and asked if he wanted to grab breakfast with you, and very much to your surprise, he immediately agreed.

So here you were, waiting for him at your non-officially designated table in your favorite signature café. You were anxiously chewing on your bottom lip, scrapping of the lip balm you had put on earlier in the morning, playing with your fingers you did not see him coming by your table.

“You will never get rid of that habit, won’t you ?” a voice said, you looked up to be met with him, Dino.

He had not changed much, his hair was slightly longer and his efforts to the gym had obviously paid off but he was still the same, he was still your Dino.

"Hello ? Earth to Y/N ?” he waved his hand in front of you, getting your attention back even though your mind stuck to the way your name rolled out of his tongue.

“Yeah sorry.. Please sit down !” you said pointing to the empty spot in front of you.

And he did just that, “Have you ordered yet ?” he asked, “Yes I did! I ordered for you, I hope you still like the same things from here though, I should’ve asked I am sorry !” you apologized, feeling your face get hotter.

He chuckled, god you had missed hearing his breathy laugh, “Don’t worry, some habits don’t change” he replied.

The waiter brought you guys your drinks and snacks, breaking the awkward silence that had taken place, “Enjoy your drinks.” he politely said before walking away, leaving you once again with your ex boyfriend.

“So..” he started, “Why did you want us to meet up ?” he asked.

“Well, I feel like I owe you some explanations about the last time we saw each others” you began, receiving a nod from him signaling you to continue.

“So as you know, I was not feeling the best when I ended things between us and I did not make you come here to give any excuse for what I have done, I just want - no I need to explain why I did it. I hated feeling that way but I also hated that you had to put up with it, and I know you dealt with it amazingly and the best you could, but it hurt me to see how my mental state could affect you. I did not feel like my old self, like the Y/N you fell in love with so I pushed you away before you could do the same. I thought that doing this would avoid unnecessary damages even though I was aware it was going to hurt one of us, if not both. But I felt like I had to do it for myself, for you and for us. And I know lots of time passed by but if you still love me, or at least have a tiny bit of faith left for us, I wondered if you could give me - us - another shot.. Because I miss you and I still love you, I’ve never stopped loving you.” you finished, letting out a big breath you did not know you were holding before focusing on the face of the man who was sitting in front of you.

He was smiling, that smile, you missed that too, you missed him.

“I’ve missed you too Y/N, and I’ve never stopped loving you either. I knew you were going through a rough time and I knew it was best for you and for our relationship to give you time and space. And I am glad I did.” he confessed, putting the brightest smile that had ever been on your face.

“Now get up from that sit and come sit next to me.” he said.

He pulled your closer next to him, turned your face towards his, delicately placed your chin between his fingers before lovingly, passionately kissing you, saying all the things words could not express.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #dino #dino imagines #dino scenarios #dino x reader

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in1-nutshell · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! Can we see some more of Thunderstreaker shenanigans? Maybe Thunderstreaker having a run in with some Deceptions? Maybe some worry from m the older bots? I just love the guy.

Taking this as a type of Slice of Life.

Please let me know if this is not what you wanted.

Hope you enjoy!

Thunderstreaker Slice of Life

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronian reader

TFP

It was a Saturday.

One of the best days of the week.

It meant the kids could stay over the base for much longer than the other weekdays.

Today Thunderstreaker wanted to hang out with the kids.

Thunderstreaker leaning on the small with Smokescreen waiting for Bumblebee to come with the kids.

Thunderstreaker: “What movie do you think we’ll see this time?”

Smokescreen: “You mean what video game.”

Thunderstreaker: “Nah, the movies are going to come first.”

Unfortunately, as soon as they came into the base, Miko and Jack started having some sort of argument with poor Raf stuck in the middle of it.

Thunderstreaker didn’t completely understand it, but the yelling was getting louder.

Now normally one of the older bots would come and mediate or end the fight.

But most of the older bots, including Ratchet, had gone on a mission in an energon mine.

It was only Thunderstreaker, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen at the base.

…

Then Miko and Jack stormed off to opposite ends of the base.

Thunderstreaker looks concern at the human’s retreating forms. They turn to Smokescreen and Bumblebee. Thunderstreaker: “Smokes, I need you to talk to Jack. Get him to cool down for a bit.” Thunderstreaker picks up Raf and places him on Bumblebee’s servo. Thuderstreaker: “You two, go see a movie or play a video game, but keep an audial out for the com lines.” Smokescreen: “Hey how come your calling all the shots?” Thunderstreaker: “Because I’ve dealt with this before Smokescreen, you haven’t.” Raf nods. Raf: “They’re right Smokescreen. Thunderstreaker always knows how to calm us down after a fight or rough day.” The young Seeker gently pats the smaller human’s head. Bumblebee: “Beep bop bep? (What about Miko?)” Thunderstreaker: “Leave Miko to me.”

The Seeker knew that having Miko sit down in the same place was… difficult to say the least.

That’s why they suggested taking a nice fly outside.

No escaping for Miko.

It took a bit for Miko to start talking.

It involved her having control over the music playlists, flying a bit faster, and higher than usual.

While they were talking, Thunderstreaker’s radar pinged in several Decepticon signals.

It put them on high alert.

Con’s never came through this airspace before, why now?

Miko noticed the slight tightening of her seatbelt.

Thunderstreaker calmly told Miko that they might run into some Con’s.

The girl cheered a bit wanting to see the action.

Thunderstreaker let out a strained chuckle.

They pinged the base just as the others came through the bridge.

At the base… PING! Ratchet answers the com line. Ratchet: “Thunderstreaker when are you—" Thunderstreaker: “Sorry to interrupt Ratchet, but right now I’m currently trying to get a couple of Con’s off my tailpipe.” This catches everyone’s attention. Thunderstreaker: “But everything—PRIMUS!—Never mind we’re okay again.” Ratchet: “Excuse me ‘We’?” Miko: “Hey guys! You will not believe the number of loops we’ve done!” Bulkhead: “Miko?!” Thunderstreaker: “Listen! I—YIKES!—I’m going radio silent for a couple of minutes. When I get back on open the brigde.” Optimus: “Proceed.” Thunderstreaker: “Understood.” Miko: “See you guys in a couple of—BBBBBEEEEEPPPPPP!”

There was nothing the bots could do.

None had any flying alt mode and Optimus’s jetpack was still getting repaired.

It was an agonizingly slow couple of minutes before the console came on with Thunderstreaker yelling to on the groundbrigde.

Thunderstreaker transformed out of their alt mode as they tumbled out of the portal carefully shielding their cockpit.

They slowly opened their cupped servos to see a slightly frizzled Miko who wore a proud smile on her face.

Miko: “That… was… AWESOME!” Thunderstreaker sighs in relief as Bulkhead picks her up. Bulkhead: “Miko! Are you hurt? Did anything happen?” Miko: “Nope! Thunder’s was flying so fast and pulling so many stunts! You should have seen it Bulk!” Bumblebee and Smokescreen helped Thunderstreaker up. Thunderstreaker: “Before anyone says anything about recklessness. The Con’s were in an airspace that they’ve never been in. I’ve flown throw that space a million times, never once seen a Con there until now.” They look at Optimus. Thunderstreaker: “If I know anything about suddenly busy airspaces, is that there’s something there they want. And I bet every bolt in my frame that the Con’s are looking for something.” Optimus nods while placing a servo on their shoulder. Optimus: “You may be correct in your assumptions Thunderstreaker, but for now more research must be done. We must be prepared for what the Decepticon’s may be looking for.” Optimus looks over at Ratchet: “Ratchet will you look at Thunderstreaker’s injuries?” Ratchet scoffs and grabs Thunderstreaker’s wing. Thunderstreaker winces a bit: “Is that really necessary?” Ratchet: “Was taking a flight with your barely healed back struts necessary?” Thunderstreaker: “… Fair point.”

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #thunderstreaker

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brabblesblog · 6 months ago

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Chapter 16: What's left of kisses? Wounds, however, leave scars.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Astarion and Ban attend the debutante's ball.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by Naaty

For a smutty render go to the AO3 link :P

She sat at the table, watching the debutante pass by. Corrinne glided by in a massive pink tulle gown - a showstopper, for sure, Ban thought - a gaggle of her friends trailing behind her.

The party hadn’t been too bad, all told, the food decent and the wine palatable. Astarion had disappeared sometime during the proceedings, arm in arm with Meiros. She’d been introduced to the master of the mirror-makers’ guild, had shaken his hand and smiled politely, but the man had seemed keen on holding negotiations with her husband alone. Astarion had shot her an apologetic look and left, but hadn’t protested at all, which was odd.

It was not an uncommon occurrence - some of the people they dealt with did not mind having her present, but inevitably some did. The first time someone had asked for Astarion to keep his spouse waiting outside he had seethed, about to launch into a tirade, when she had grabbed his wrist and told him to just go along with it - it would be quick, and it would be easier than offending someone they needed to cozy up to.

He had given her a long-winded talk that evening. She sipped her glass, smiling ruefully at the memory.

“What is the point,” he thundered, “of all this effort to mark you as my equal, if at the first sign of resistance you give in?”

She watched him tug off his shirt, tossing it away with a little more venom than he normally would. “I just think that some of the time we have to let them have their way. Easier than arguing and potentially losing out on-”

“I don’t care!” Astarion marched to her, placing his palms on the tub and leaning over where she was soaking. “We are to be wed soon. I would not have those morons think you’re…” he gestured with a hand, “you’re still some…”

“Consort? I mean, we still do use that term, at times.” Not in private, not in most circumstances, but in certain circles, yes.

He exhaled. “Consort, fine, when we must. Some plaything of mine, absolutely not.” Crimson burned into her, his anger evident, with lingering traces of guilt as well. She covered the hand grasping the tub with her own.

“Consorts can wait outside for their lords, Astarion, every once in a while. It’s fine.”

He deflated, eyes softening. “I’d still want to at least insist on your presence being invaluable to me.”

“If those people want me out of the room, saying so would merely make you seem weak.”

Astarion tugged off his trousers and underwear, grumbling to himself. He stepped into the tub and sat down, still glaring at her. “I’ve half a mind to invite whoever asks that of me to a party, lock all the doors, and…”

He let the thought sit, a small smirk dancing across his lips. She laughed. “Do that, and we’ll have all the nobles of Baldur’s Gate on our tails. Don’t.”

“The request you plan to make, if you do make it, can easily be done,” Meiros said, tapping his hands on the mahogany desk he was seated at. Astarion was pacing back and forth, rubbing his chin. “If I understand correctly - this is for your wife, is it not?”

“Which is why I asked you to request to meet me alone,” Astarion answered.

Meiros nodded. “Roderich hasn’t been the most active member the past few years, something his fellow guildmates and I are frankly pleased about. When I found out you were marrying a Glasscraft, I had assumed I would never see you outside my door, so imagine my surprise when you showed up.”

“And I suppose no one has seen any Glasscraft other than Roderich himself?”

“You’d be correct. There was only ever him. Oh, he used to say he had a loving wife at home, and two wonderful children to take over his business, but,” Meiros shrugged, “as I said. He stopped showing up to guild events. He’s still well-known, of course, with his gaggle of old, loyal customers, but we all assumed he was working on some new secret method or some such. When I heard about Barcus’ advancements in the mines, I thought Roderich might have already gotten his hands on that material.”

Astarion stopped pacing to lean on a chair, hands wrapped around its back. “Last time I purchased a mirror from him he was still harping on mercury being the best.”

“Then he is woefully behind.” Meiros stood up. “Well. If you do wish to push this through, I would be more than delighted to fulfill your request. I’m sure most of the members would have no complaints, either. A pleasure doing business with you, Lord Ancunín.”

The men shook hands.

Ban saw the side door open and Meiros walked in, followed by Astarion. The talks seemed to have gone well; they were chatting animatedly. She watched as he waved his daughter over to be introduced. Corrinne flounced to her father’s side, or at least attempted to - the rather large skirt bumped people’s legs as she passed - and finally arrived in front of the two men.

The girl’s eyes widened as she took in Astarion, and Ban smirked inwardly. He kissed Corrinne’s hand and her face flushed beet red. Ban leaned back, enjoying the show, sipping her wine absently; with Astarion’s mind unlinked from hers, it merely tasted dull.

It was fine. She knew her husband was accustomed to shallow admirers, and Ban was used to people who’d look at him, look at her, and deem her unworthy of him - just like Corrinne was doing now. Ban caught that furtive glare aimed her way, the quick up-and-down movement that told her the girl was sizing her up and found her lacking, and the satisfied grin on her face as she turned back to Astarion. Nothing new, nothing surprising, and nothing he couldn’t handle.

She found herself scanning the rest of the room, more than a little bored. She noted Meiros talking to another guest, gesturing towards Astarion. Likely he was discussing whatever their meeting had been about. The other guest looked intrigued, and Ban pondered again what her husband could be up to with the guild. She continued her visual roam around the party, finding nothing else of note taking place.

As her eyes made their way back to them, her husband’s eyes locked onto hers, and she raised her glass in greeting, amused. She was about to lean back and continue watching when she realized that Astarion hadn’t moved - was frozen, in fact. The pinched eyes, that slight part of his lips, and the furrow of his brow told her all she needed to know. In the same instant she recognized it, she felt his mind prod hers.

There were no words, just a flash of memory - from mere seconds ago, gauging by the expression on his face.

Corrinne laughed, bending over to do so, making sure Astarion received an eyeful of her rather ample bosom. She grabbed his shoulder. “Oh, sorry, Lord Astarion. I didn’t mean to. It’s just these shoes…” She made a show of falling off-balance, likely a little more drunk than she ought to be, and he automatically caught her elbow to steady her. The size of her skirt meant that to do so Astarion had to lean in somewhat, and she took the opportunity to step closer to his body, the skirt bunching up between them.

Meiros had already walked away, talking to a passing guest. Corrinne shot Astarion a coy look; Astarion - and through him, Ban - felt her thigh press between his legs, hidden by the voluminous dress. Corrine ran her hand from his shoulder to his neck - Ban felt him shiver - and then dragged her nails down his chest to his hip. The thigh pressed against him harder. “We could sneak away for a few minutes, handsome,” she purred. “I don’t think your wife would mind.”

The effect was instantaneous. His thoughts flicked through old, haunting memories, his grip on her tightening incrementally. There was a boiling rage, a near-overwhelming urge to snap Corrinne’s neck - held back solely by the fact that he needed to be in Meiros’ good graces and the presence of the countless guests at the party.

“I am not interested,” he ground out, a sneer pasted on his face, “regardless of whether or not she would mind.”

Ban felt his impotent rage shifting into panic, held at bay and hidden behind the veneer of his cold dismissal. His breathing hitched, pulse picking up, posture stiffening; something that Corrinne seemed to have interpreted as interest, despite his words. She kept talking.

Ban’s eyes snapped back to him. He was still staring at her, expression blank, holding Corrinne’s elbow while she chattered away. Ban’s hand instinctively closed around the hilt of the sword she wasn’t carrying, bile rising in her throat. She felt warm all over, enraged, but in a way she’d never felt before. The feeling was completely foreign and it took her utterly by surprise, but it also felt like it was something that had always been a part of her, lying dormant until this moment.

She stood up.

As she began cutting her way through the crowd, Meiros wandered even further away, heading for the guest’s table. Thanking the gods for that small blessing, Ban reached Astarion’s side. She cleared her throat, leveling a searing glare at the vapid young woman and then at her hand, still caressing Astarion’s hip. “Kindly take your hand off my husband, if you want to keep it attached to your body.”

Corrine looked down at her, nose wrinkling. “You must be Missus Ancunín,” she said, offering a dainty hand, the same one she’d been touching him with. She had not backed away from Astarion, her body still pressed against his.

Ban did not take the proffered hand. “Indeed I am, and that’s my husband you are clinging to. How… unbecoming. You must be drunk, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” Ban replied coolly, “because I assume, were you in control of your faculties, you wouldn’t dream of offending your father’s guests in this manner. I’m quite sure your father would take a very dim view of you accosting his business partner with that thigh, Corrinne.”

She blanched, blinking furiously. “I- um…”

“Put your leg down, and take a step back. Unless you want me to either tell your father you’ve just groped a married man, who has important business dealings with him, or you want to wake up bloodied and broken on this ballroom floor. Either way,” she smiled pleasantly, “I’ll be the one going home with him. He is not yours, Corinne, and never will be.”

Through it all she could feel Astarion slowly calming. He slipped his hand away from Corrinne, trembling ever so slightly. As Ban finished speaking and Corinne stepped back, he finally moved, taking a step towards her.

Ban took his hand. He seemed to look at the ring on her finger for a long moment, then turned to the debutante. “Corrinne. Have a wonderful evening.” The words were completely devoid of emotion, and Ban felt a chill run up her spine.

She linked her arm through his and led the way, him trailing silently. Ban searched for somewhere private to take him. She spied a door, slightly ajar, and made a beeline for it, slipping in and shutting it behind them the moment they were inside.

It was a small study, and she immediately located an armchair. Her eyes returned to her husband’s face. He looked lost and a little scared; his eyes were blank, as if he wasn’t even in there.

“Are you okay?”

He blinked, then his expression snapped into one of chilly indifference. She noted it, the way his jaw clenched and was forcibly relaxed. “Fine,” he said, the falseness clear as day. He tugged at his sleeve. “That was nothing new. I’ve had my fair share of advances, and that was one of the most amateur attempts I’ve ever seen - to be expected of course, given her youth. One would ideally press their thigh in a grinding motion, not ram it straight up,” he scoffed.

She guided him towards the armchair. “Sit, Astarion.” He did so, but his mouth kept moving, a desperate attempt at feigning nonchalance.

“Of course I could have simply told her not to, or pushed her off, or threatened her - a million options, really - however, offending her father would not have been ideal for our plans. I-”

She knelt in front of him and grasped both of his hands. “Look at me. Take a deep breath, and just look at me.”

He trailed off, chest rising and falling far too rapidly for her liking. “I said I’m fine.”

“You are fine. You’re safe.” She kept her hands on his, avoiding touching him anywhere else, unsure what he could tolerate at the moment.

“Safe,” he repeated. “A fine sentiment, but we never really are, are we?” His shoulders finally sagged, the proud arch of his brow falling as his eyes fell shut. “It’s been more than a year since I’ve been… his, but it still haunts me as if it were merely yesterday.”

The trappings of power, of riches and decadent luxury - none of it mattered when he was faced with the memories of endless hands on him, of thighs pressed between his legs, of needing to slip deep into his mind to escape. It had been one thing to let the twins touch him and sit in his lap to maintain his facade in front of the other vampire lord - it was quite another to be randomly accosted and treated like property when he least expected it.

Ban looked at him, pained. “You were a slave for centuries, my love. It will take more than a year to recover from that. Things will get easier, but sometimes something will remind you of… before, and then it will come back. But I’ll always be here, to help you, to protect you when you need it.”

He smiled, leaning forwards to touch his forehead to hers; she sighed in relief.

“You’d think I’d remember that, but it always catches me off-guard.”

“It does so for me as well.” He sighed as she spoke and his breath fanned over her face. It was slowing, thankfully. “Can I…” she trailed off, and he opened his eyes. He gave a small huff of assent and her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“You never have to ask, but I find myself grateful that you do.”

He was nestled between her breasts, eyes wide open. The slow ruffling of Ban’s hand through his hair was comforting, although the strands tickled his eyes. He shifted, placing his chin flat on her sternum. Ban returned his gaze.

“Decided you want to read more?” she asked.

“Wasn’t much help.” He rolled over, but grabbed the book anyway. It had been laying facedown on the page he’d given up at. “But I suppose I could give it another shot.” He propped the book on his chest as he leaned against the headboard.

She glanced at him. “I trust your conversation with Meiros went well, at least?”

He grunted, flipping to another page. She waited for a response - none came.

“And?”

He flipped another page, far too fast to actually be reading it. “And things are proceeding as planned. Like I’ve said, Ban. Let me handle it.” There it was again, that edge in his voice.

He hadn’t spoken much after the party. They had gone home, and bathed, but he’d been mostly silent throughout. She’d given him his space, scrubbed him down and allowed him to wash her as they usually did, but then they’d gone to bed and he’d immediately buried himself in his book with nary a word in her direction.

She bit back the urge to simply ignore his distress and leave him be. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Crimson eyes flicked over her for a second - she noted the way his gaze raked over her features, another tell - and he exhaled. “The novel is trite, dry, and the heroine dully heroic.”

Ban covered her face with her hands, choking back a frustrated groan. Do better. “That’s not what I asked, and we both know it. This… isn’t about Corrinne, is it? Or if it is, there’s more.”

Astarion snapped the book shut. It was uncommon for her to see his ire nowadays, much less to be the object of it, but there it was. He exhaled through his nose. “You loathed it when I prodded you. Must you do the same?”

The response died in her mouth. She wasn’t sure how to address it - in the past, stoking the fires of his anger had been a thoughtless thing, fighting back with barbed words second nature - but not anymore. Not that she didn’t feel the petty desire to do so rising in her throat, but she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

She thought for a moment, choosing her next words with care. “Just as I’ve learned to try to open up to you, I hope you will do the same for me.” Taking the book from his hands, she set it down and leaned over. “May I?”

At his nod, she laid over his chest, her head settling against his heart. “You don’t need to. I just want you to feel better,” she murmured.

He was quiet, reaching over to pick the book back up again. The minutes passed, one to ten to thirty, the only sound the occasional turning of pages and the scratch of his fingers against paper, his breathing, and the painfully fast heartbeat thrumming beneath her ear.

She waited.

“No use feigning sleep,” Astarion finally drawled. “You’re mad, aren’t you?”

“Frustrated. Concerned. Not mad.” She felt him shift, his muscled chest rippling under her as he placed an arm under his head, the book still in the other.

“Now you know how it feels,” he said under his breath. As he did so his pulse hammered harder, and Ban decided enough was enough. She placed a hand on his chest, beside her face, watching the ring glint in the moonlight.

“Does that give you some sort of satisfaction? Because I’d understand if it did. But I’d prefer we talk about it.”

That took him by surprise. His eyes locked onto her, wide. She met them without hesitation, watching his expression soften as he finally gave in.

“One - I have no idea who I married a tenday ago, because I’m not exactly sure it’s the Ban I knew.” He laughed humorlessly. “Two - it might be silly,” he looked away, “but I’d thought this would all be… if not over, at least… lessened.”

He set the book down by his side and wrapped an arm around her. “I’m no idiot. I am aware it doesn’t ever truly fade away, but today it caught me unawares.”

“I can’t blame you for that. You haven’t had any encounters like that in a while, nor should you have to expect them in the first place.” The hand on his chest closed into a fist. “If it were not for her father I’d have beaten her where she stood.”

He shrugged. “That’s… not my concern at the moment.” Ban sighed - she had been right. There was more.

“Then what is it?”

She watched his lips part, fangs peeking as he licked his lips nervously. “I worry that in a century, or in five centuries, this will still happen. That it will keep happening again and again, in moments when I least expect it. I will freeze as I did today. It will feel like nothing has changed, no matter how much time has passed. I may never fully…heal.” He took a deep breath, her head rising and falling with it, his heart racing as he finally spoke the fears he’d been haunted by the past few hours. “You’d be spending eternity bound to a pathetic, broken, man.”

Ban shook her head; she couldn’t help taking offense. “I fell in love with you the way you are. Why worry about that? Do you think I’m still that selfish, that I still require you to be a certain way to love you? Because - well, I understand and I’m still working on it, but truly?”

“No. I merely pity you for having to deal with it. I thought the wedding would…” a growl ripped through him, “...would at least fix something.”

“A wedding doesn’t guarantee everything will be sunshine afterwa-”

“Well it should!”

She flinched. He tightened his grip on her. “I worry about how this will affect us, in the long term.” He raised her hand to the light, admiring the ring on her finger. “Affect our marriage. I could not forgive myself if I lost this simply because I couldn’t let go of the ghosts of the past. I worry that I will whittle your patience down into nothing; that with each incident I further drain the wellspring of your heart dry.”

“Astarion.” He let her hand go, eyes snapping back to her face. “Listen. When I made my vows, they were made for both the good and the bad. I love you. All of you. That includes this, and whatever other worries you have. I love you-” she poked his chest, “and everything that comes with you, ghosts included. Maybe it will take a century, or five, or maybe it will never fully heal. But either way, I will be here, and I will help you, and protect you, and love you through it all. No matter how many Corinnes come our way.” She poked the tip of his nose. He wrinkled it in response, apparently still unwilling to let his pique go.

“There will be many, Ban. There will always be more. Men and women, everywhere we go. Unwelcome as it is,” and there it was again, the way his eyes scanned her face, “they will keep coming. They will keep seeing you as a trivial obstacle in their path, and they will be wrong, but they will think it and try all the same.”

“And that bothers you, because…”

“Does it not bother you?”

It was her turn to look away. She was silent for a beat. “It does. A lot.”

“Oh, it does?” His mouth showed the beginnings of a small snarl. “You seem wholly unfazed by it. Ban, always the picture of indifference, even as some woman-”

“I wanted to rip her head off! Is that what you want to hear?”

He froze, then the edges of his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Precisely that, yes. You never understood, thinking it was the mere desire to own you that ruled me.”

Ban shifted, resting her chin on his sternum. He took a deep breath. “I made mistakes. I sought to keep you in a way that was twisted. But some of it…” he seemed to have finally cooled off, softly stroking her cheek, “...some of it I still feel was valid.”

“Halsin.”

Astarion nodded. “There is… was, a lot of indignation due to the fact that you brought me to his camp, without feeling it necessary to tell me why, or anything else at all, for that matter. That you didn’t respect me, or us, enough to communicate.” He bit his lip, and she shook her head.

“I won’t be mad, or punish you. Please. Keep going.”

“I thought you wished to rekindle whatever you two had, whether it be for a tryst or for something more serious. At the time I said you were not mine to hoard in such a manner, but…”

She felt him tense underneath her, and nuzzled his chest encouragingly. He ran his hands through the back of her hair in silent gratitude.

“You understand that some of what I felt was warranted, do you not?” He searched her face, and she reached up to cup his cheek. “Please.” He shut his eyes. “Tell me you do.”

“I do. The idea that you could be taken from me, even unwillingly… It made me so angry. Just seeing her touch you… I think it finally sank in.” She cleared her throat. “I understand that taking you to Halsin like that was uncalled for, and you deserved better. I handled it especially badly, given the fact that he and I…”

He flapped a hand. “That we have talked about. It was the visit that I’ve never dared bring up.”

“You worried that I’d leave you over it.”

“That, and that you wouldn’t understand.” He opened his eyes again, met hers with a sad smile. He ruffled her hair. “You’ve spent so long bristling under men who sought to own you that you never learned that belonging to someone can also be a beautiful thing. I have been yours throughout our time together, and it has given me nothing but safety, care, and love.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “You… that was legitimately the last thing I expected to hear from you.”

“I spent two centuries learning what it meant to be someone’s property,” he reminded. “Cazador owned me. I belong to you. There’s a vast difference. And you? You are mine.” The last word was growled, and Ban felt heat pool between her legs. He lifted her hand, the one with his ring on it. “Belonging to you is no curse, binding myself to you no hardship. That is what I wish for you to comprehend - that my jealousy is not monstrous, as misguided as my first times feeling it were.”

“You want what we have to be respected. By me, by everyone.”

“And for you to see that I don’t wish to own you, but I do want you to belong to me and only me.”

Ban considered this, considered the venomous fury that had risen in her at the sight of Corrinne pressed against her husband. That rage, the split-second urge to sink fangs into her neck and drink her dry, or break every one of her bones… It had been powerful. It had come after the initial concern for Astarion, of course, but it had been there, surprising her with its intensity.

To belong. Still a bit frightening to her, but she could not deny his words - could not deny the way she’d felt tonight, nor deny the ring on her finger.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she said, the words slipping out with ease, to her relief. “I couldn’t understand it, or even imagine how it would feel, until today.”

Astarion’s tension ebbed, the lines on his face easing as he exhaled. His hand drifted away from her to pick up the book. “Thank you. I think I shall rest easier knowing that.”

“You’ll still be reading, though?” She nodded at the book.

“I’m afraid sleep will come with far less ease than it usually does tonight. Not your fault,” he added quickly.

“Then I’ll keep you company.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then began to read the book, flicking back a few pages to where he’d actually last understood what his eyes were running over. As he did Ban settled against his sternum, the now-slow beating of his heart lulling her into sleep, much as she fought it.

As she lost the fight and her eyelids drooped shut Astarion watched, amused. He didn’t move her, eyes moving back to his book. It helped that she understood, but he couldn’t help the small pang of worry that niggled at his mind still.

The rite had not fixed him, nor had his marriage. Would time really do so? A foolish thought, he knew, expecting all of his wounds to be healed by a simple ceremony, but part of him had… hoped. It had been largely absent in his mind until today’s painful reminder, and he wished he could have ripped that girl apart for her insolence. Instead he had frozen, mind searching for his wife’s, seeking solace.

He flipped to the next page. None of the words made sense.

And if time failed to heal those wounds, would it one day push them apart? He could almost taste it for a brief moment, the vision filling his mind-

Ban, in her armor and with her weapon slung over her shoulder. Servants hurrying out, bags and bags of her clothes and belongings carried to their carriage. He could see himself on his throne, the house already cold and tomblike, as if it was already mourning her departure. He would have his hands gripping the armrests, digging in until they cracked, resisting the urge to drag her back in, because he refused to do that ever again, even if losing her again would kill him. But every fiber of him would want to.

He would let the flowers wilt, let the palace fall into ruin. He would rot, because there would be nothing else for him, and nothing would matter but her memory. He would wander these empty halls and wait, deluding himself that she’d be back, because she’d come back once, hadn’t she? Perhaps he would seek an end to his misery. Create spawn, unleash whatever chaos he could, hoping someone would lop his miserable head off his shoulders. Perhaps she would. Or perhaps he would find her, beg for her return. She would do so again wouldn’t she, she wouldn’t leave, please, never again-

“Astarion.”

He flinched, looking down at her. She rubbed his chest.

“You were breathing hard. I could hear your heart pounding.” She crawled upwards so that they were eye to eye.

“Oh.” He waved the book at her. “Exciting part came up. It wasn’t all drivel after all.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he exhaled. There would be no way to fool her. “Too many thoughts,” he finally said. “Too many fears, ones that I’m afraid even the sweetest words cannot assuage. There’s no scrying the future, after all.”

“No.” She shook her head. “We can only really see today. And today, you are mine, and you are loved.” She pressed her lips against his, a chaste, gentle kiss that he couldn’t help but deepen. His hand fisted in her hair, gripping hard. The other wrapped around her waist, pressing her against him, his hips grinding against hers, the intent clear.

“Promise me,” he hissed, “that I will always be yours.”

She nodded, but that wasn’t enough. He pulled at her hair, tugging her head back. “Say it.”

“You’re mine,” she growled, slowly moving lower as the hand on her hair guided her downwards. There was a catch in her voice as she said it.

“Don’t hold back,” Astarion snarled, pulling the sheets off them. He could see the simmering anger behind her gaze, held at bay for most of the night, for his sake. “I don't need you to be proper. Show me who I bel- fuck.”

She had grasped his cock, given it a long, slow stroke. His expression softened as she licked along the shaft to the tip. She licked off a bead of precum, savoring the salty, tangy taste that was purely him. Her eyes searched his. “I wasn't sure if I should touch you. If tonight that would be welcome or not. But I'm glad you wanted to. I… I need it too.”

At that she swallowed him down, suckling his head, her tongue swirling in a teasing circle. Bucking helplessly against her, Astarion groaned, hand tightening in her hair. Her fingers stroked the rest of him, her other hand fondled his balls. It felt good - wonderful, even - and much needed, but-

He nudged her then got on his knees, cock proudly jutting out, glistening with her saliva, begging to be sucked. Ban thankfully understood, getting on all fours. He looked at her for a long moment, taking everything in - the swell of her ass, her muscled back and shoulders, her eyes filled with desire for him.

“My sweet Ban. Always eager to please,” he purred.

Her mouth took him in, deeper this time, the sudden return of warmth and suction causing his hips to jerk. He fucked her mouth, leaning back to support himself, hips rolling slowly, soft moans the only sound from his lips. He relished the feel of her swallowing around him, tongue laving its attention on every part of his cock. She was his, and he was hers. He tilted his head back, lost in the ocean of his desire.

Only she would be allowed to touch him like this, to see him like this, to love him like this. She wanted him - but not just that. Loved him. The real him. Not just his face, or his body, or his honeyed words. The true core of him. The good, and the bad, and the pieces he would show no one but her.

He threaded his fingers into her hair once more, enjoying the feeling of holding her while she claimed him. She brought one of her hands up to grip his hip and pull him further down her throat, her nails digging into the side of his ass hard enough to bruise. He let out a loud groan, her forcefulness driving him to the brink.

Hers. He was hers no matter what anyone else said or did, and the way she was swallowing him down right now - not even breathing, just burying him deep into her throat with an aggression he rarely saw from her - told him she also wanted to be reassured of that same fact.

“Show me,” he gasped, lost to the building pressure in his balls, thighs burning, “show me exactly who I belong to, who I give myself to, the only one who will ever make me co-”

She gave him one long, hard suck, tongue flicking against his underside, up to the slit of his cock, her loud moan vibrating against his cockhead, and he came apart, erupting into her mouth with one last hard thrust and a wild, needy groan. She swallowed, humming appreciatively as she did, intensifying his pleasure as her throat pulsed around him. She continued swirling her tongue around his length until he finally pulled out, gasping. Ban sat up, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, her eyes dark with possessiveness and satisfaction.

“Mine. I promise you that.”

He felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine. He was so relieved she finally understood.

The night passed in relative peace after that, with Ban asleep on his chest as he read. His mind was at ease, and the words on the pages finally made sense.

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