#well at least I’ll lose that last little bit of weight faster if eating feels like swallowing razorblades

[armedandnervous]

i think i have strep throat

[waitimcomingtoo]

Trial Run

Part one and three 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers!

Synopsis: last week you hated each other, this week you’re making out in his bed.

Masterlist

Since you and Peter weren’t exactly friends before, you didn’t have each other’s numbers. You had no way of communicating with him once you went home. Meaning, you had no idea what you’d be walking in to on Monday. All you knew was you made out with your former rival. You didn’t know what it meant to him; you barely knew what it meant to you. So when you saw him at the lockers upon entering school, you had to brace yourself.

You walked up to your locker and kept your head straight as you unlocked it. You could feel Peter’s eyes on you, just as you could feel him fumbling for words to say.

“Hey.” You said casually without looking over at him. You were doing your best to play it cool, when you were internally freaking out around him.

“Hey.” Peter said immediately, overly excited that you were the first to speak. “How are you? Um, how was your weekend?”

“Good.” You said simply. “How was yours?”

“Good.” Peter nodded. He stared at you for a minute as he worked up the courage to say something better.

“I thought about you a lot.” He said quietly, adverting his eyes so he wouldn’t lose his nerve. You sucked in a sharp breath, hating how easily he could fluster you.

“Did you now?” You asked without looking at him.

“Yeah.” He smiled shyly. “I really liked it when you kissed me.”

You couldn’t help smiling at his words, despite you trying to fight it. You looked at him, saw his signature shit eating grin, and rolled your eyes.

“I liked it too.” You said quietly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Okay, good.” He nodded happily. “We’re on the same page.”

“I guess we are.” You looked at him as you shut your locker.

“In that case, do you want to be my girlfriend?” He asked hopefully as he twisted his shirt around his fingers. For once, you found his nervous behavior to be cute. You wanted to say yes, but you had to make sure he was all in first.

“Not yet.” You decided. “I said I’d be willing to give this a try. I can’t commit to anything until I know what kind of boyfriend you’d make.”

“How can I prove to you that I’d be a good boyfriend?” Peter wondered. You pursed your lips as you thought about it, not having thought that far ahead. You looked down at the books in your arms and held them out to him.

“Carry my books.” You instructed.

“Okay.” Peter took your books from you and walked with you when you moved.

“I like old fashioned romantic gestures.” You explained as you walked together. “Carrying books, opening the door, asking the father for permission to date, things like that. I want a gentleman. I wouldn’t date anything less.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded as he made a metal note. “I can be a gentleman.”

“Walk faster.” You commanded, and he picked up his pace. “I don’t just want you to be a gentleman though. You have to be rough with me sometimes. Tell me when I’m being ridiculous and shut me up with a kiss every now and then.”

“Nice. I finally know a way to shut you up.” Peter joked.

“Cute.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m telling you all of this now because I think communication is the most important thing in a relationship. This is what I want in a relationship. If you can’t give it to me, then we’ll just be friends. No harm done.”

“Okay. Gentleman, kisses, books. I can do this.” Peter hyped himself up.

“Good.” You smiled and stopped walking. “So what are your conditions for a relationship?”

“I don’t know if I have any.” Peter realized. “I’ve never been in a a relationship before.”

“Well what do you want from me?” You asked him. Peter thought about it for a minute before making a decision.

“Can I hold your hand?” He asked, and you fought back a smile at his innocence. You looked down at his free hand and frowned suddenly as something dawned on you.

“Are you still gonna like me if I start being nice to you?” You asked without looking at him.

“What?” He asked. “Of course I will.”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head. “What if you had some underlying degradation kink that I was fueling? And if I stop being mean to you, you’ll stop liking me.”

“I liked you before you were mean to me.” Peter assured. “And I don’t have that kink. At least, I don’t think I do.”

You looked at him for a minute, unsure of what you wanted.

“I don’t want to start this if you’re gonna break my heart.” You said quietly.

“Hey.” He said comfortingly. “I won’t do that. I’ve never broken a girls heart before.”

“Didn’t you say you’ve never been in a relationship before?”

“Yes.” He realized. “But even if I had, I wouldn’t have broken anyones heart. Not on purpose, at least. You have just as much of a chance of breaking mine.”

“I’ll try not to.” You smiled a little.

“I would appreciate that.” He told you. Your smile widened as you fell just a little bit more for Peter. You let out a dramatic sigh and looked up at the ceiling.

“You can hold my hand.” You said like it was inconvenient for you.

“I appreciate that even more.” Peter grinned as he took your hand. You continued walking to class, hand in hand.

You reached your classroom and stood outside of it, hesitant to go inside. You’d only ever sat in that class as Peter’s rival, and now you guys were almost dating. You looked at him holding your books and squeezed his hand gently.

“Just so you know, I want this to work.” You told him honestly. Peter’s cheeks turned pink as he gave you a small nod.

“I do too.”

“Good.” You smiled. “Now get inside. I don’t like being late.”

You and Peter walked into the classroom hand and hand with his books still in his arms. Before you could take a seat, your teacher stopped you.

“Wow.” She folded her arms and smirked. “It looks like my plan worked.”

“I’m sorry?” You asked.

“Making you guys partners seems to have paid off.” She pointed to your books in Peter’s arms.

“Peter was just taking a break from his usually monkey brained self to do something polite.” You stammered.

“And Y/n couldn’t carry her books because she’s too busy carrying the weight of being the most obnoxious person in this part of New York.” Peter followed up.

“Mhm.” She nodded. “And the hand holding?”

“It was his idea.” You said at the same time as Peter said, “She let me.”

“Right.” She clicked her tongue. “Take a seat you two.”

You and Peter took your usual seats and kept quiet the entire class. The rest of the class was quick to notice the absence of the typical taunting banter that usually occurred between you and Peter. In its place, much to everyone’s surprise, was your dangling hands holding each other’s under the desks. His left hand was reaching forward while yours was reaching back, meeting in the middle and staying that way throughout the period. You didn’t know why you let him hold you hand the entire time. He didn’t know either. All you knew was you liked the feeling of his hand in yours.

At lunch time, you found yourself walking towards Peter’s table instead of sitting with your other friends. You had no idea why you wanted to sit with him, but you felt yourself missing him throughout your classes. You silently put your lunch down next to him and began to eat. Peter and Ned exchanged a look and Peter nearly choked on his food.

“You’re sitting here?” Peter asked with a mouth full of food.

“Is there a problem?” You asked as you looked between him and Ned.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m happy to see you.”

“Shut up, loser.” You snickered as you leaned into him. He leaned back before wrapping an arms around your shoulders. Ned stared at the two of you in shock, usually accustomed to you going at each other’s throats. When Peter told him you’d kissed, he thought he was kidding.

“So are you guys like a couple now?” Ned asked, interrupting the moment. Peter didn’t know how to answer, so he looked to you.

“We’re giving it a test run.” You shrugged. “For now, we’re just casually dating.”

“When will you know if you want to be a couple?” Ned continued.

“I kinda had the same question.” Peter said sheepishly. You thought about it for minute, not exactly sure of your answer.

“Tell you what.” You decided. “If I ever look at you and feel an overwhelming need to kiss you, thats when I’ll know.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded. “I can work with that.”

“So how’s your project going Ned?” You asked as you changed the subject.

“Well, Gwen and I haven’t started dating, so not as good as yours.” He joked.

“Yeah, well. She’s missing out.” You winked at him.

“Not really.” Ned shrugged. “I’m exactly like Peter, just without the abs.”

“And I’m like Ned without the beautiful Hawaiian complexion.” Peter complimented back.

“Woah. Didn’t realize sitting here meant I’d be third wheeling on your date.” You joked.

“You’re not.” Peter didn’t get the joke. “You can sit here whenever you want.”

“Not that I care”, you prefaced ‘“but did you say Peter had abs? As in defined abdominal muscles?”

“Yeah.” Ned nodded as Peter’s face went red. You looked at him with a knowing smile and he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Don’t.” He warned you.

“I knew you were on steroids!” You said excitedly. “I called it and I was right.”

“I am not on steroids.” Peter whined.

“I knew it.” You insisted. “Your arms got bigger practically overnight and now you have abs?”

“I work out.” Peter lied.

“No you don’t.” You snorted.

“I’m Spider-Man.” He tried again.

“I’d believe you work out before I’d believe that.” You told him, much to his relief.

“Then I guess we’ll never know.” He shrugged, sneaking a knowing glance at Ned. “Do you want to come over later? We can continue working on the project.”

“Sure.” You shrugged, feeling nervous butterflies in your tummy. “I’ll meet you by the lockers after the last bell.”

“Don’t be late.” He smiled.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You deadpanned, making his smile fall.

“I’m just kidding.” You smiled. “God, you’re so gullible.”

“You don’t like to make things easy, do you?” Peter joked as he leaned on his hand to stare at you. The way he was looking at you sent a wave of butterflies into your tummy, causing you to look away.

“Hm.” You grinned. “No I do not.”

~

“Hey May.” Peter called as he set his keys down by the door. Your heart rate quickened when you heard footsteps coming into the room.

“Hey, Peter. How was your -oh! Hello.” May stopped short when she noticed you standing behind him.

“Hi, Miss Parker. I’m Y/n.” You introduced yourself since you didn’t meet her last time you were over.

“You’re Y/n?” May asked. “The one from your physics class?”

“Yeah. Peter and I have a few classes together actually.”

“Is this the one you called a b-“

“Beautiful, sweet Angel.” Peter cut her off and smiled at you. “Yes, this is her.”

“Oh.” She was surprised. “Hi. You can call me May.”

“It’s nice to meet you, May.” You smiled as you shook her hand.

“You too. Wow.” She laughed. “You’re nothing like I pictured.”

“May.” Peter said warningly.

“What?” She asked. “The way you described her, I figured she had horns and a little tail.”

“Oh, I do.” You nodded. “I just hide them well.”

“Peter.” May said pointedly. “She’s not nearly as bad as you told me. What are you guys doing here anyway?”

“We have a group project.” He said.

“We’re also dating.” You followed up. Peter looked at you in pleasant surprised, feeling very happy that you said that.

“Finally.” May scoffed. “I knew you liked her. No one whines that much about a girl he doesn’t like.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Peter rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys to it.” May said. “Do you guys need anything before I go? Snacks? Drinks? Condoms?”

“We’ll take some condoms.” You said casually. May raised her eyebrows as Peter choked on his saliva.

“Kidding.” You said through an awkward smile. “That was a joke. Thank you, though.”

“We’re gonna go to my room now.” Peter quickly ushered you out of the room. “Bye May!”

“It was nice meeting you!” You called as he pushed you into his room. As soon as his door was closed, you put your hands on your hips.

“You told you aunt I was a bitch.” You pointed at him accusingly.

“No.” Peter pointed back at you. “I told her you were a brat.”

“Oh.” You relaxed. “Well that’s not that bad.”

“Is that a deal breaker?” Peter worried. “I kinda told her we hate each other.”

“Peter, you have to stop being so worried about messing this up.” You said as you rubbed his arms. “I told you, I want this to work. You have to relax a little.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time believing you like me back.”

“I like you some of the time.” You shrugged before cracking a smile.

“Hey.” He whined.

“I’m teasing.” You told him. “I’m just getting used to being nice to you. If it makes you feel better, I’m starting to like you a lot more.”

“I guess that does make me feel better.” He mumbled.

“Good.” You smiled and patted his cheek. “Now stop whining about it, brat.”

“You’re the brat.” He scoffed playfully as he put his hand over yours. You sucked in a breath at how close you were, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. Peter’s eyes fell to your lips before going back to your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly.

“Shut the fuck up.” You matched his soft tone with a harsh one.

“Okay.” He backed up. “Sorry.”

“I’m kidding.” You assured him as you pulled him back to you. “You can kiss me.”

He rolled his eyes at you before cracking a smile.

“You’re mean.” He mumbled as he put his hands on your face.

“Yeah, but you like that.” You whispered as you leaned up to kiss him. He pulled your closer by your face as you slid your hands under his shirt. He was a surprisingly good kisser for someone who had never been in a relationship before, and you wanted to test his limits. You dragged your fingernails down his stomach and just as Ned told you, he had abs. He groaned at the unfamiliar feeling and began to move backwards. You followed him until you both fell on the bed. Peter rolled on top of you and continued kissing you, slipping his fingers through yours to hold your hands. You licked his bottom lip and he took the hint to open his mouth. His kisses were clumsy and awkward, but you absolutely loved them. You made out on his bed just like last time, your project long forgotten. Neither of you had any idea how much time had passed before you both collapsed on his bed to catch your breath. You rolled over and rested your head on Peter’s chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath you. You rested your hand on his stomach, mindlessly playing with the soft material of his sweater.

“Hm.” You pouted as Peter wrapped an arm around you and rubbed your shoulder with his thumb.

“What’s wrong?” He wondered.

“I really like you.” You realized as you made a disgusted face.

“Is that a bad thing?” He chuckled.

“Yes!” You exclaimed. “I don’t want to have feelings. Especially not for you. We’re supposed to be enemies but…”

“But what?” Peter asked when you trailed off.

“But I never want to leave this bed.” You mumbled as you you held him closer. Peter laughed again and kissed the top of your head.

“It’s okay.” He insisted. “I really like you too.”

“Gross.”

“If I have to stop worrying about messing this up, you have to stop worrying about letting this happen.” He reasoned. “It’s okay that we like each other. I didn’t see it coming either.”

You let out a sigh and gazed up at him.

“I hate when you’re right.” You mumbled.

“You’re gonna have to get used to that.” He told you as he stroked your face.

“Why would I get used to something that only happens once a month?” You asked. He gave you a look so you smiled.

“Kidding.” You told him. “We can still bully each other, right? Or does that have to stop if we’re dating.”

“It depends. You said you need communication, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “I don’t like it when you make jokes about me being on steroids. I’m scared people are going to believe you and then I’m gonna have to pee in a cup in front of the principle. I’m very pee shy.”

“Thank you for letting me know.” You laughed. “I won’t make those jokes anymore.”

“What about me?” He asked. “What’s off limits?”

“Well unlike you, I can take a joke, so nothing is off limits for me.” You shrugged, always taking the opportunity to tease him.

“Hardy har.” He said sarcastically.

“Actually, wait.” You thought of something. “Don’t call me a bitch. Brat is fine but bitch crosses the line.”

“That’s easy.” He said. “I only ever called you that in my head anyway.”

You gave him a look and he laughed.

“Kidding.” He mimicked your voice. “You have my word. I won’t ever call you that.”

“All right.” You sighed in content. “I feel better now.”

“Does this mean I can start calling you my girlfriend?” Peter asked.

“Not yet.” You decided. “I haven’t decided if I want to do this for real yet. I’m still weighing my options.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Take your time. No pressure.”

“Well that makes it sound like you don’t care either way.” You whined as you sat up.

“I do. I do care.” He assured you as he sat up. “But I don’t want to rush you. I really want to give this a try, but only if you do too.”

You looked at him for a while as you processed what he said.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He wondered.

“You’re making it really hard to justify not liking you all these years.” You told him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Good.” He shrugged. “I want you to like me.”

“I got my heart broken pretty badly in the past.” You whispered. “Because I liked someone a little too much.”

“I already told you, I’m not gonna break your heart. I’m not like that.”

Your lips tweaked into a smile before you leaned in to kiss him.

“You better not be.”

~

You continued casually dating Peter throughout the week, getting closer to telling him you wanted to be his girlfriend every day. He carried your books for you, opened your door, and shut you up with kisses, just like you asked. By Friday, you were ready to make it official. You found him in the hallway between classes but before you could tell him what you decided on, he started to speak.

“What are you doing after school today?” He asked as he bounced on his heels.

“Volunteer Club was cancelled so nothing.” You answered. “Why?”

“I want to take you somewhere.” He explained. “But it’s a surprise.”

“I knew it.” You shook your head. “I knew you and your cult were gonna kill me.”

“There is no cult.” He huffed. “Just meet me here after school, okay?”

“Okay.” You looked at him skeptically as he broke out into a grin. “But what-“

Peter cut you off with a kiss before telling you, “It’s a surprise! No more questions.”

He quickly scurried away before you could ask him anything else, leaving you a blushing mess in the hallway.

~

After school, you walked with Peter’s hands over your eyes to an unknown location. The walk was pretty far and his hands we’re starting to get sweaty on your face. If you didn’t like him so much, you would have complained.

“Okay.” Peter announced. “We’re here. You can look.”

Peter uncovered your eyes and let you look around. When you realized he had brought you to a cemetery, you looked at him for answers.

“I was doing a little research, I hope you don’t mind.” He prefaced. “This lot is closest to the Grey Sloan Memorial hospital, so it’s where they put most of their car crash victims.”

“Yeah.” You nodded as you kept your eyes ahead. “I know.”

“This is where they buried your parents, right?” He asked quietly. You looked at him, impressed that he was able to find out where they were, and nodded.

“Yeah.” You said softly. “It is.”

“Can you take me to them?” He asked politely. You opened your mouth to speak, but found no words. Instead, you took Peter’s hand and lead him to your parents graves.

There was a pile of roses laid in front of the headstones, all in different stages of decomposition. Peter took his backpack off his shoulders and pulled out two roses. He handed one to you and kept the other in his hand. Before you could say anything, Peter got down on one knee in front of the headstone.

“Mr. and Mrs. L/n, it’s an honor to meet you.” He began. “My name is Peter Parker. I’m sure Y/n has complained about me a few times to you guys. I’ve definitely given her a lot to complain about.”

You chuckled at his words as tears came to your eyes. You thought what he was doing was sweet, if a little morbid. You knew his intentions were pure and that’s what mattered.

“I came here today for two reasons. The first was to meet the parents of the most unpredictable, intelligent, and beautiful person I have ever met. She’s also super annoying. Like, you would not believe how annoying this girl is.” He joked. “Or I guess, maybe you would. In my opinion, she gets a little easier to endure everyday.”

Peter looked back at you to see if you were still listening, and you gave him a thumbs up.

“My other reason for coming here was to formally ask you for permission to date your daughter.” He continued. “I know it’s ultimately her decision, but she likes old fashioned romantic gestures. So here I am, asking for your blessing.”

You covered your mouth with your hand as happy tears fell from your eyes. Not only had Peter remembered what you listed off to him, he followed through with the most thoughtful romantic gesture you’d been given. He turned around again to look at you, shielding his eyes from the setting sun.

“They’re kinda quiet.” Peter joked. “Do you think they said yes?”

“Peter?” You said weakly.

“Yes?”

“I’m feeling that overwhelming need to kiss you right about now.” You told him with a tearful smile.

“I bet you are, loser. Can you give me a minute? I’m in the middle of a conversation.” He rolled his eyes before turning back to the headstone. “So, you guys enjoying the weather?”

You let out a laugh and wiped your face free of tears.

“Peter. Stand up right now.”

Peter obliged and stood up to face you.

“You said you liked romantic gestures.” He began to apologize. “It was either this or I pull out a ouija board and-“

You cut Peter off by throwing your arms around him and kissing him. He kissed you back immediately, stabilizing you as you stumbled into him. Something inexplicable made this kiss feel different from the last ones. This time, you were letting yourself feel everything you wanted to feel for Peter.

“Wait.” You pulled away suddenly and held him back from you.

“What’s wrong?” He worried.

“I don’t want to get caught making out with my boyfriend in a graveyard.” You told him. “That’s too weird. Even for you.”

“You called me your boyfriend.” Peter smiled happily, ignoring everything you said except that.

“Did I?” You played dumb. “I didn’t even notice.”

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @weirdr-artiest @serendipitous-amor @dummiesshort

@foreverxholland @lavender-writer​ @michaela072796​ @whatareyouhidingpeter​ @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning​ @imyourliquor-youremypoison​ @andreasworlsboring101 @waiting-to-be-myself​ @letsloveimagines​ @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention​ @justcallmehitgirl​ @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique​ @emmamarshmellow​ @unbelievableholland​ @flixndchill @sovereignparker​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik​ @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e @eridanuswave​ @itscaminow​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild​ @canyouevencauseicant​ @illwritetomorrow​ @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman​ @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah​ @kickingn-ames​ @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger​ @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174​ @unbelievableholland​ @yourtypicalhotmess @spideyanakin​ @horanxholland​ @thesuitelifeofafangirl @anapocalypseinmymind @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff @cookiemonstermusic258

@maybemona​ @alexxcorona113​ @lethal-wisdom​ @xo-spidey​ @im-still-tryin-to-find-it​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @pandaxnienke​ @theincredibledeadlyviper​  @thestylestour​  @officialsimppage​ @mrvelscaptains​ @peterbenjiparker​ @itsemohours​ @satanswitchings @okkulta​ @parkerlovebot​ @jungkxxkk​ @friendlyneighborhood-mendes​ @whatthefuckimbisexual​ @olixerwxxd​ @starkbrain​ @creatorofthegalaxy​ @sunshine-spencie​ @f-hollands​ @ilovefrogs1000​ @itstaskeen​ @itmatteredatthetime​ @wrendermeuseless​ @amazinggracy​ @slutforsebstan @iprobablyshipit91​ @magicalxdaydream​ @whereismytelephone​ @theonly1outof-a-billion​ @leilanixx​ @namoreno​ @bi-lmg​ @dracoswhore007​ @tomhollandloml​ @avengers-hamiltrash​ @sunshinepeterparkr​ @gh0stgurl​ @so-very-asleep​ @veryholland​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @white-wolf1940​ @spideycheles​ @w0nderzwndaya​ @fanficaddict13125​ @pinklxmonade​ @thebestqueenoftheworld​ @nowayhomeparker​ @willowestelle​ @imobsessedzs​ @spideyspeaches​ @bookfrog242​ @fandomfriend33

[syndxlla]

Part ten of the More To Love Series

Summary: The ball is tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing in the Mandalorian Palace. In desperate need of a break from all of the Masquerade planning, you get away from the palace for a few hours. This gives you a chance to reflect on your relationship with the Knight, learn more about his past, and grow closer with Koska.

Word Count: 10.9k, NO ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (handjob, grinding, this is like actually sort of gross if you over think it so just don’t over think it thanks <3), THIS IS EXPLICIT, 18+ CONTENT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Swearing. Mentions of: blood, scars, fighting, hand-to hand combat.

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: insight of recent events surrounding my tumblr, I have added an additional in-text warning for the smut scenes. This will continue for future chapters for those who do not wish to read the explicit scenes of More to Love.

Author’s Note: HEY, it’s been a little while, huh? Happy to be back. THANK YOU FOR 1k FOLLOWERS HOLY CRAP!! You all mean so much to me and the support of this fic is unlike anything I could have ever asked for! Also... the smut in this gets,, nasty. Like not that bad it isn’t super kinky or needs lots of warnings it’s just... like gross if you think too hard about that so do me a favor and don’t overthink it haha. OKAY LOVE YOU ENJOY

Part Nine

“No, If you keep that elbow down it will throw off your balance.”

“Okay, what if I hold it like this.”

“No it will get more tired faster.”

“Well how long do I have to keep it up like this?”

“Until the song ends!” You sigh, your fingers coming up to hold your eyebrow out of frustration. You and the Knight have been in the library for nearly an hour trying to learn how to waltz together and if you didn’t know any better, you’d guess he had two left feet. He was starting to get the hang of it, though. Slowly but surely and through a lot of trial and error but you don’t have very much room to talk because an hour before this one, he was just as frustrated with you because you couldn’t swing at him with nearly enough power needed to make some damage on anyone. This is how you’ve spent your last two evenings with the knight. The two of you sarcastically bullying one another in learning the opposite’s art. It was already Friday, the ball was tomorrow and you weren’t sure if he was going to be able to pull it together in time. The worst part is that you haven’t had anytime privately with him to do your... usual antics. There was always someone with you, usually Korkie or Koska, or the dance and fighting practice took up too much time to really have any fun.

The palace has been bustling the last two days. Every servant has had a task they were always doing, there was no down time for them which meant lots of downtime for the Royals. If there was no one to set up tea, then there would be no tea, simple as that.

Because of the high workload put on the staff of the palace, each royal has been subject to dinner in their own rooms alone this week, which was a dream come true for you. Dinner was your least favorite time of the day because of how painful it was to get through socially. And it also meant you got to spend more time with your own thoughts. You still aren’t sure what to do about the marriage, especially since you’ve admitted to yourself that you think you are falling for the beskar-clad knight who stands watch outside your door.

Even Soniee has been spending less time inside your quarters pampering you (you could really use a bubble bath). At all hours of the day, there was either a team of butlers carrying large bouquets of flowers down ornate hallways, a chef interrupting your dress fitting with Soniee and Koska to have you try another flower-flavored mousse, or an immediate meeting with the Queen to learn about some of your guests who will be at the masquerade and how to properly greet them. One time yesterday, you were asked to review the lanterns they picked out for the garden decorations. You were so indifferent to the ones they picked that the servants actually sent you back inside out of frustration. Along with the controlled chaos of preparations, the mask making has still left you feeling guilty. Just this morning you caught a glimpse of Koska’s shaky hands that had clearly been pricked by one too many needles while sewing jewels into the Queen’s mask. You must have apologized too much because she eventually got snarky and asked you to quit saying sorry about it. As much as you would like to dance with your knight with others looking on, you weren’t sure if it was worth all the pain and labor others were putting themselves through for it.

Party planning was exhausting, and on top of all of it, you needed to teach the most uncoordinated man in the kingdom how to waltz. It genuinely baffled you how he was able to be so methodical and perfect in hand-to hand combat and in bed but can barely hold his own in situations such as these. There was something charming about that flaw, however.

Now, the golden sunlight of the aging day was pouring into the towering windows of the Mandalorian library. It had made the room warm, and showed just how valuable the knight’s dark skin was as his bare hands soaked in the rays. You caught yourself staring at them a few too many times, which to your dismay, he caught you doing.

“You’re staring again.” He says while the two of you are practicing the basic 1, 2, 3 waltz step. Your eyes jump back to the emotionless visor of the beskar helmet which looked down at your face. You didn’t even realize you were looking at your hand holding out to the right, studying the way his knuckles looked and how clean his fingernails were.

“Sorry… It’s just that dancing is usually an emotional thing, you’re supposed to play off of eachother I suppose.” You shrug, stopping the dance. You realized you had been searching for something to play off of, anything, even if it’s just the calloused fingers of a hard worker.

You wouldn’t think the two of you would be so far behind and underprepared but for a majority of these rehearsals you’ve been the one leading as he figures it out. You know how bad it would look if you were the one leading tomorrow, and you’re starting to lose hope that you’re going to pull this off. You had wished you started teaching him earlier, but knew that he would have never agreed before now.

“Princess, you do realize that you’re probably still not going to see my face if we dance tomorrow.” He drops your hands. You sigh, you did know it, you just didn’t want to admit it.

“I know… when do you take it off?” You couldn’t remember if you had asked this already. Maybe you were out of line for asking, but a piece of you didn’t care, you deserved to know.

He was quiet, he always was when you asked him something personal. Maybe he was hoping you would get the idea by now…

“When I eat, when I sleep… sometimes around my son. Sometimes around other guards.” He said as he walked towards one of the library windows. You followed him, a few footsteps behind. He stopped at the glass, his reflection disturbing the pristine scene outside. You could see the beach from this window, not as well as in other parts of the castle, but the horizon of the Mandalorian sea was still in view. Your reflection came up behind his. You could see the exhale of his lungs from the shift in armor weight.

“I understand if you never want to show me.” You said. You didn’t really believe that, but you did respect him, and because of that you had to accept the reality that he may never show you. Maybe you were just trying to convince yourself that. You walk a little further to him and stand up on your tippy-toes so that you may rest your chin on his shoulder, looking out at the world below. It was so peaceful from up here. You’ve only left palace grounds once in the last two weeks and you desperately want to again. Being cooped up inside an oil painting was getting exhausting. “I want to go somewhere.” You mutter, your arms wrapping around his waist to hug him from behind: a pure and innocent act of affection.

“What?” His helmet turns to the side just a little bit so that you might hear him better. “Like… the Garden? The Parlor?”

“No!” You chuckle against his pauldron, “Outside, I want to get out of the palace again.”

“Did you forget what happened last time we went out?” He asks meditatively. “We can’t risk anything happening to you before tomorrow, The Queen would be furious, and even worse, Koska would be too.”

“Of course I didn’t forget! I’ll have the scar to always remind me” You giggle at his remark. “And besides, I-I want to go to the water.” You step out from behind him to look out at and gesture to the gentle waves against the golden beach. “I’ve been on a sandy beach before.” You clear your throat.

“We… might be able to arrange that. How about we go on Sunday? After the ball?” He attempts to negotiate.

“Or we could go now? There’s no formal dinner tonight.” You suggest.

“Your parents are coming in tonight, along with a number of other guests, not to mention Grand General Vizsla, all the Royal Guard is to be presented to him at nine.” He groans, but you were determined to convince him. You really needed a break from all of the planning, fittings and tastings.

“So? It’s barely five! We can just go for a little while!” You say as you look at the grandfather clock that sits nestled between two bookcases. You weren't feeling very optimistic, you doubted he would not budge, he’s always been so stubborn. “I can repay you…” You bite your lip. You were also incredibly horny and remember overhearing a maid back home talk about sex on the beach. It had always excited you.

He sighs again.

“Please? For me? I seriously deserve a break, so do you.” You reach out to stroke his hand. You knew that would probably work, it has before.

“Fine-“

“Really!?”

“Yes, but we have to tell Koska just so they don’t think we’re missing again.” He turns to walk out of the library. You silently congratulate yourself on getting the most unmovable and obedient man in the galaxy to go against his orders and do what you want. You happily skip behind him. “It takes a while to get all the way down to the beach so we should probably take a horse.” He says on the move. “Do you know how to ride?”

“I’m royalty, of course I do… do you?” You revising a teasing eyebrow.

He scoffs at your question, “There is much you do not know about me.”

“Well, you make it sort of hard for me to learn.” You roll your eyes playfully. He elbows you in the side, knocking you off your balance. You attempt to do the same to him, nudging him right back but not even getting the boy to budge and hurting your funny bone a little against the Beskar.

It takes you two a few minutes of complete silence and portrait-perfect stature to get all the way down the palace into the servants quarters. The only other time you had been in these narrow, stone hallways in the ground level of the Mandalorian Castle was earlier this week after Korkie begrudgingly led you back to your quarters in a wet peasant gown and a stinging bicep.

By the time the knight and yourself had made it down here, he was leading you through the maze of corridors, past helmetless knights who all nodded out of respect as they passed you, and into a wooden-arch. The room you had entered into must have been the servant’s common room, because it was about the size of the dining room. A candle-lit, wooden chandelier hung over four long tables, unlike the glass and oil-lamp chandeliers in the rest of the palace. A large fireplace burned on one wall, illuminating the room more and several small, gothic-arch windows towards the ceiling allowed warm light to pour into the cozy hall. Several handmaidens bejeweled masks at one table, twice as many sewed the bases of the coverings at another. One table showcased all of the finished designs, which depicted extravagant bird beaks, colorful fox and wolf snouts, towering cat and rabbit ears, ornate peacock tails, sharp antlers and horns on some and even incredible tusks on a few. They were all breathtaking, and while you felt guilty for making so many staff members work double-time, you appreciated their handy-work in making your dream come true.

The fourth and final table was mostly empty, a few elderly and child servants ate potato soup at it, and one maid cleaned her finger-nails at the opposite end. Everything was so simple and normal, it was such a display of controlled chaos that almost made you forget about the corruption in Mandalore… almost.

A sharp whistle rang through the room, and immediately, everyone dropped what they were doing, stood up swiftly from their seats on the long benches that paralleled each table, and turned to look at you before bowing deeply and diligently. They hadn’t even noticed you were there at first and interrupting their normalcy was not what you intended to do, but then you caught sight of who it was that sang the whistle. Koska Reeves was walking through the bowed, silent heads to you and the Knight. She looked exhausted, her hair was down and over her shoulders instead of pinned up in the intricate braids she usually wore them in when she was around royalty. The amount of fly-always was distracting but you couldn’t blame her, she would not disappoint the Queen with her work, even if that meant looking a little rough and disheveled.

“What’s the meaning of this? All royalty is supposed to be approved before coming in here.” She says to your knight chivalrously, then turns to you, “This is no sight for you, princess.” Something told you that she wasn’t only referring to the activities taking place in the common room. “I am sorry for our disorder.”

“No worries, Lady Reeves. There’s no need to apologize. I am most impressed by the work done on the masks for tomorrow.” You gesture to the table with the completed designs.

She sighs and smiles, “Thank you.” She nods before turning around, “Carry On!” She calls out to the room and everyone returns to normal as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you weren’t even there. There was something you liked about that, something that reminded you that even though you have a lucky bloodline, you’re human too, and not all that different from the workers in this very room. Their daily routine was fascinating to you. “What do you two want?” She hushes her voice and drops her “right-hand woman to the queen”, first lady-in-waiting and head of the Mandalorian royal staff persona. She’s now the same brash friend you two shared.

“We want to go out for a while, it’ll just be a few hours but we knew we needed to tell someone in case anyone notices that we’re missing.” The Knight nods, explaining the situation. She raises a questionable eyebrow.

“Absolutely not, we cannot risk anything happening to her before tomorrow night.” Your heart drops.

“That’s what I said, but she’s incredibly convincing.” He shrugs, tilting his head just enough to show the extra bit of emotion. Koska looks between the two of you, her hands perched firmly on her hips. You caught sight of her hands again, which were now bandaged tightly with the same white gauze that she wrapped your cut arm with earlier this week. You wondered if that was done to dress bleeding wounds, keep the shakiness from over-working and late nights in control, or a dreadful mix of both. A terrible feeling told you it was the third.

“Vizsla is going to be here.” She raises an eyebrow, her intimidating demeanor hasn’t gone away even after she’s become aware of your little secret (well, actually massive, life-altering, “how-the-hell-am-I-gonna-fix-this?” secret). “If you aren’t here, that could result in a court-martial from the Queen herself.”

“Sounds tempting.” He replies.

“You and I both know what’s going to happen to you and your little boy if you step out of line, even once, which is why I’m guarding your scandle so close to my heart.” Her voice get’s real quiet when she says that, and he shifts his weight. Your heart drops, what in the world could she mean by that? “You know what could happen to you if I accidentally slip something, that’s why I won’t cover for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You whisper. She glances at you and then right back to him.

“Wow, you really haven’t told her much, have you?” Koska’s arms move from her hips into a fold over her chest. He doesn’t respond.

“Told me much about what?” You ask, worried about whatever was going on that you didn’t know about. Every day you’re reminded about how much of a stranger he really is to you.

“All she knows is that I had an old job, that’s all she needs to know.” He bites back, his voice equally hushed.

“If you’re fucking her, she deserves to know a lot more, but that’s just my opinion.” Koska chuckles once and you blush red hot. “I mean, at least tell her your name.”

“Why is this happening here? Now?” He gestures to the very crowded room. “Look, we just want to go down to the beach for an hour at the most. We’ll be back long before Vizsla gets here. You won’t have to cover for us, I swear.” He tries changing the subject but your mind is racing with the possibilities and confusion of the conversation you were just welcomed into.

Koska looks between the two of you a few times again, carefully considering what’s on the table and the risk. “Fine, one horse. I mean it, only one because if two are gone, someone will notice and then I’m gonna have to do exactly what I told you I wouldn’t do and what you said I won't have to: cover for your ass. Get out of here.” She beckons her head to a door that leads outside as a smile spreads across your cheeks. “Djarin! Don’t be late!” She calls out as you begin walking. That’s the second time you have heard that word, both times uttered from Koska’s mouth. Something wanted you to believe that might be his name but you were far too scared to find out for your own. You would try to remember it this time.

The knight leads you out of the room, and you watch Koska over your shoulder as you follow, studying the way she stood still immediately after you walk away, taking a few deep, sharp breaths and then promptly returning to her work. You wondered if she was tired, remembering that not everyone who lives in the Mandalorian Palace has the same relaxing lifestyle that you have.

Despite the aging daylight, it was still deathly hot. The heat of summer bled onto your shoulders, which were still partially covered due to the scarring cut in your muscle. The clothing only added to the heat. The part of the Castle grounds you were were foreign to you. They weren’t the beautiful, lush and trimmed gardens or breezy courtyards you usually spend your afternoons in, no. It was dark, the tall height of the palace shading the courtyard where knights sparred and a pair of little servant girls chased one another. One wall that lined the courtyard was the horse stables, and another was a blacksmith. The golden light shone through the stables, and you were able to spot the four white horses that took you and Korkie to Keldabe earlier this week despite the beasts being backlit.

“You can ride, I’ll just walk.” He says as he guides you to a palomino, a tall horse with a Caramel body and pure white mane.

“Are you sure?” You ask, not wanting him to have to walk.

“Of course.” He says as he mindlessly bridles the horse, petting him on the nose a few times. “Do you prefer a saddle?” He asks. You nod, and he swings the seat over the back of the steed.

“Does this horse have a name?” You ask, reaching your hand out to pet his neck a few times. The horse nickers at your touch.

“He likes you.” The Knight chuckles. You smile at the statement, and continue to stroke the soft hair on the neck. “Clove.” He says, his voice velvet and full of caring. The knight knew this horse. They had a bond. “Here.” He holds his hand up for you to hoist yourself onto the saddle. You were in no way dressed for riding, and the saddle wasn’t even a side-riding seat, but you would make it work. You knew that on the palace grounds you would have to ride side-saddle, it’s customary, and how you learned. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t ride regularly. The horses back home in Corellia were massive beasts, animals suited for harsh winters and heavy amounts of snow, thick fur covers their ankles so that they can trudge through deep snow and pull sleighs. The Mandalorian horses were far more majestic, more like show horses than work horses. Clove was gentle, though, that was something that wasn’t common for the strong horses up north. He didn’t move a muscle or bat an eyelash as you heave yourself onto his back, adjusting yourself to sit properly, the knight’s hand holding yours tightly as you positioned yourself and then rearranging the heavy skirt of your dress to properly cover your legs. His plan grazes your shin as he does it, and your eyes immediately catch the visor of his beskar helmet. You liked to think he was looking at your eyes, too. The moment is so still, time freezing for half a second.

He starts to walk the horse out of the opposite side of the stable and into the field behind the palace. You could see the tree line of the garden from here. The bridle was tightly wrapped around his hand as he led the two of you out of the palace and into the hot, hot sun. This was the first time you’ve ridden a horse in a very long time, and you had almost forgotten how much you loved it. A cheesy smile was on your face, and your eyes cycled from the mane of the horse, the shoreline ahead, the back side of the ornate castle and the top of the helmet of the knight. The sun reflected off of the beskar, causing a bright illumination to shine on the bodice of your gown. He walked methodically and quietly, and you wanted to start a conversation with him but it didn’t feel right.

Comfortable silence is often overlooked, something taken for granted that is really only shared between two trusting people. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced a genuine comfortable silence with anyone before. Being a royal has a lot of “fine print”, one of which being that no one ever shut up. Korkie isn’t the only self-centered, talkative royal in this world. The thing that sets Korkie aside from the rest is the fact that you’ll have to deal with it intimately for the rest of your life.

There was something wildly attractive about the introvert by your side. Because he was few with words, it caused you to seek them out, and cherish what little you did get. He was warming up to you, opening up and every time you get a moment alone with him, he says a little more. Your conversations now are very different from that first night in the castle when he helped you untie your corset. All he said originally was “Goodnight, Princess”, and now he’s telling you about the stars and teaching you how to fight and defend yourself. The idea that it’s happened too fast has crossed your mind several times, but you considered that when you’re alone with someone almost all day, every day, you’re bound to get to know one another quicker than usual. However, you’ve also been afraid that you came off too harsh, maybe you jumped into it all too fast and overwhelmed him. What if he’s only complying to the relationship because he’s obligated to through his duty? You had to admit that there were a number of insecurities surrounding your friendship, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think that. Maybe you felt that way because you relied so heavily on him to get away from the other boy in your life who you can’t escape no matter how hard you try. Was it entirely possible that the knight feels about you the way you feel about Korkie? That very thought made you sick, your stomach twisting and preventing you from enjoying the beautiful landscape ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He noticed that you had tensed up. You silently curse yourself for not hiding it better.

“What?” Your look down at him, forcing a false smile. He was looking up at you now, his hand resting on your knee. Your eyes move from where he holds you and back up to the visor on his helmet. “Oh… nothing.” You hum.

“You are a fool if you think you can hide anything from me.” He tilts his head and your cheeks burn with blush. You sigh, knowing you should tell him. The chances are that expressing these concerns to him might give you a piece of mind… or they could do the exact opposite. You aren’t sure if you can take the emotional weight of resenting two men who you admire. You admire them for entirely different reasons, however. You admire Korkie for his dedication to his kingdom, and you admire that he’s genuinely trying his best. However, you admire the Knight for his kindness, his patience, his protection. You admire his velour voice, his plush lips, and the way he touches you. You admire that he’s a father, that he’s split his dedication between his duty to his kingdom and his duty to his son. You admire his deep chuckle, and the way he kisses you, the way you can see him laugh when you shoot him silly faces during dinner. You both admired and was frustrated by his obedience to his creed. He kept promises, no matter how life-altering they may be.

As you reflect on all the reasons he meant anything to you, you felt a sense of peace. It was better, the feeling in your stomach, that is. You decide it is right to tell him, you recall your governess explaining to you that all good relationships are built on enthusiastic communication, and you wanted your relationship with the Knight to be considered ‘good’. You sigh and then speak up, “I just…” You take a sharp, deep breath in the middle of your sentence before speaking up again, “just lots of insecurities, I suppose.” You shrug.

“Insecure- about what?” He asks.

“Everything, but especially us.” You didn’t really want to have this conversation, but you knew you had to.

“May I ask why?” His tone was sincere.

You aren’t sure how to reply at first. “Is it too fast? Am I too much?” You ask after careful consideration of what you were going to bring up first.

“What? No.” You think this was the first time he had ever replied immediately after you ask him something. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know-“

“Yes you do… tell me.” He reassures.

“Our personalities are different, you’re quiet and stoic…”

“Is that… bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Royals just aren’t that, and I worry if we’re compatible enough. And don’t mistake me, I admire that about you, but I fear I’m too much for you.” You sigh, shaking your head. Clove nickers again as if he’s listening in on your conversation and chiming in. He doesn’t respond right away which you’ve gotten used to, but if it was any other situation you wouldn’t be overthinking it. You can’t take the silence anymore and speak up, “And there’s the added factor that I’m totally cheating on Korkie with you-”

“-If I thought you were too much, do you think I would let you teach me how to dance?” He interrupts. The words halt in your mouth, and you look at him almost dumbfounded. “Or do you think I would be teaching you how to defend yourself? Fucking you on a royal sofa in an un-locked room? Risking my title to take you to the beach?” He almost sounded… angry? Had you offended him for thinking that? Your legs tensed up on the horse, and you regretted everything you had said. He did have a point, you hadn’t really thought of that.

“I… suppose you’re right.” You mutter.

“I don’t have to be doing any of this,” He grabs your hand, holding it in his and uses his other hand to halt the horse. The three of you pause in the field between the beach and the castle. There had been a downgrade so you were mostly hidden but you could still the upper-towers of the palace. He looks up and you, and you find yourself wishing you could see his eyes again. “But I do because I’m… fond of you.” It sounds like he’s having a hard time getting the words out, but that isn’t very uncommon for him. Your heart flares up, this was the first time he had ever admitted anything like that.

“W-what?” You ask, sounding like a fool.

“I know, it’s crazy. How could a halfwit like myself deserve a Princess like you?” He chuckles under his breath. “Maybe the elf laid a spell on me, I don’t know. But I do know that ever since I was given the duty of protecting you, my life has been different.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I don’t know what it is but I-I-“ You smile fondly, and use his hand to hop off the horse. You bring your hands up to hold the back of his neck.

“It’s not a spell.” You whisper. “I feel it too.”

“Then it’s a spell on both of us.”

“Maybe.” You move your hands up to his helmet, desperately wanting to remove it, but you remember what you told yourself the other day. If he wishes to show you his face, it should be his choice, he deserves to be the one to take the beskar off. You would respect that. Instead, you just run your fingertips along the lip of the helmet, looking into the visor enchantingly. “Then it would be a wonderful spell.”

His hands find their way to your waist, hugging you to his chest. You rest or head on his shoulder and just close your eyes, feeling his chest plate move with each breath. It’s so still, the summer breeze softly runs through the tall grass. You can hear the waves gently hugging the beach, and the two of you just stand there like that. Completely alone, the only companionship being one another and a mindlessly-grazing horse. No one to interrupt. No doors to lock. No Princes to lie to. No thieves to fight. Just the two of you. If you could stay in that moment for the rest of your life, you would. In the earlier days of your relationship, you used to worry you wouldn’t like what his face looked like, worried that he might be unattractive to you. But every selfish desire you had about his physical appearance dissolved with the wind. No matter what he looked like, or what his past was, or what his name was, you didn’t care. You didn’t care because he cared for you, and you cared for him, too.

Before you can soak in the moment any longer, you’re swiftly grabbing his wrist, and tugging him towards the beach. The stillness of the moment is lost, but you’re quickly giggling as he’s chasing you down the small slope to the beach. You pull your skirt up as far as you can so you don’t trip on it, and find yourself being unable to slow down before the hill meets the shore. The soil slowly becomes more and more sandy, and your feet are bolting against uneven land towards teal, clear water. Before you can reach the ocean, however, strong hands are wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against the Knight’s chest. You can hear the low rumble of chuckling in his throat, and you have the biggest, dorkiest smile of all time on your face. He spins the two of you around a few times before setting you back down on the beach.

You’re out of breath from running, and your hair is already untidy from the unexpected change of direction. The wind blows it just softly, letting it pull away from your face and neck. He tucks one rogue strand behind your ear, and then cups your face. You hadn’t even realized he’s been gloveless this entire time. You close your eyes and rest your cheek into him. You turn your head ever-so-slightly to kiss his palm, laying a sweet and innocent peck to his calloused skin.

You wonder if he’s hot with all that armor on. If you were too warm with a dress, only he knows what it’s like to have to spend summers so formally.

He’s the one to pull away, walking towards the water. You follow him, and the two of you stand against the tide. You kick your shoes off and pull your dress up again. Stepping into the water. You giggle at the tickle of the sand and smile at the feeling of the warm water against your ankles. He watches you fondly with his arms crossed. The water in Corellia is never this warm, and you throw your head back in bliss, breathing in the salty air. This was the happiest you had ever been since you arrived in Mandalore. The break from all the rules and customs was very needed, and you soaked in the sound of the waves, a distant call of a gull, and the wind keeping your hair out of your face. The best part was the fact that you were experiencing it with the Knight. There is no other person you would rather spend this memory with. You bite your lip and close your eyes and you never want to leave, you want to stay here forever. You hear the sound of metal clinking behind you, and something heavy hitting the sand. You turn to look at the Knight, who had discarded most of his armor. His boots have been carefully set next to one another, and beside them were his pauldrons, wrist guards, thigh plates and breastplate. The chainmail was the next thing to be removed, leaving him in only the dark-brown underclothes. His trousers were heavy duty, covered in various pockets and made out of thick material, but his tunic was a thin material, still long sleeved, but flowy, allowing the fresh, summer breeze to run through the fabric. The two items of clothing were held together by a pair of black suspenders, and the entire ensemble made him oh so… human.

You had only seen him with all his armor on before, and witnessing his shell being removed was both humbling and inspiring. The armor added quite a bit of bulk to his stature, it rounded out his shoulders, boosted his posture, and broadened him out. That was the first thing you noticed about him on the first day you arrived, he was ample in size and it made you feel so primal and safe. Despite his smaller stature without the armor, he wasn’t one bit less attractive to you. He was still the same guy who you were slowly falling for and didn’t even know it. But as he cuffed up his trousers and rolled back his shoulders, you felt so comfortable in his presence. He wasn’t just a mass of armor and creeds and rules, no, he was just a man. He was a single father, a guy who doesn’t know the first thing about dancing, and a boy born across the world in the Nevarro frontier. He was just a man.

You couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest that came with this thought. Everything about him was far more simple than you initially thought.

He walked towards you, and you held out your hand for him to take. He laces his fingers with yours as he steps into the shallow water with you. Your dress drops, dipping into the water and getting wet but you can’t even be mad about it. Your smile is big as his hand tightly grasped yours, the two of you looking out at the horizon.

“When I was a boy-” he begins, his voice quiet, “I wanted to live on the sea. Join a ship crew and travel the waters. There was always something so adventurous about that thought.” He shares. You turn to look at him as he speaks, studying the contour of the helmet with your eyes.

“What stopped you?” You ask, not entirely sure if he would share, but this time he was the one to start the conversation, and you felt like he might this time.

He sighs, you see it, he turns to look at you, the two of you staring at one another as the temperature slowly dropped with the sun on the horizon. “I was orphaned when I was only five.” He shrugs, your heart breaks. “It was one of the Mandalorian wars that caused it.”

You can’t imagine what it’s like having to serve a kingdom so intimately when they were responsible for the death of your family. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know that you’re here for him. “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault, it was so long ago I don’t really remember it.” He looks down at the water.

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” You smile apologetically. You really did appreciate that he felt comfortable enough to share something so serious with you. While you were grateful that he had begun to open up to you, it still didn’t answer any of the questions about Mandalore’s past, and what Koska was referring to a few days ago. It didn’t tell you what his past job was and why he’s serving the royal family now. However, you supposed it didn’t really matter, not right now, not today.

After a little minute of listening to the waves, he reaches down into the water, picking up a flat, thin rock. He runs his pointer finger along the edge, outlining the shape before hatching it into the space between his index finger and thumb, reeling back, and flicking it out so it hopped over the water’s surface seven or eight times before falling in. You looked at him enchanted, like he had just expressed a magic trick to a bright-eyed child.

“How did you do that?” You ask in awe.

“You’ve never seen anyone skip a rock?” He asks. You slowly shake your head. You’ve been cooped up inside a wintry castle your entire life, of course you haven’t.

“Teach me.” You say a little too forcefully. He chuckles and looks down at the sand, looking for a pebble that might work. He bends down eventually, and picks out a similar looking rock to the original.

“So, you want a rock that’s thin and flat, like this one.” He shows you the sediment. You reach your hand out, taking it and outlining the edge of the stone with your finger similar to how he did. He walks behind you, sloshing in the water but eventually gaining position. He wraps his left arm around your waist, and cups your right hand which holds the rock in his. “Now, don’t throw it quite yet, okay?”

“Alright.”

“You’re gonna flick your wrist like this,” he motions both of your hands at the same time, pulling back and then shooting forward quickly. He does it two or three times before speaking up again. “You’ll use your pointer finger to pull back like the trigger on a crossbow, it will give the rock enough spin that it stays on top of the water.” He makes you do the motion along with him a few times again. “Your shoulders will draw back almost like you’re pulling back an arrow on a bow.” Again, he does the motion with you, your back flush to his chest. You admired that he was able to relate everything to weaponry. He definitely knew his way around combat, that was apparent to you. “Then, you add all three motions together, aim for the horizon, and-“ he pulls back with you and before you know it, the rock is spiraling out of your hand and onto the surface of the ocean. It doesn’t skip, though, and instead plops right into the water.

You frown and look back at him. “What did I do wrong?” You ask, you knew he would know what needed to change.

“You didn’t flick your finger enough. Try again.” He pulls another stone out with a grunt, and holds you against his body to pull back and send another rock out. This one skips once before plopping into the water again. You sigh out, frustrated. “Here, try without me.” He says after handing you a third flat stone. You carefully practice the motion once, desperately wanting to impress him. You then pull back and give it everything you got, only for the stone to plop in without skipping at all again.

“Ugh, lemme try again.” You say angrily. You can hear him laughing at you, but you ignore it, ready to try again and determined to get it right this time.

You must have thrown four more rocks after that with no results. Each time he tried giving you just a little more advice about different things, “Follow through” or “You had too much spin that time”. You were starting to get really frustrated, having never had to really work for anything in your life before, and you knew he was starting to have a hard time finding flat rocks. You would not give up on this.

“Maybe we can try again next time-“

“No.” You say forcefully, “We do not leave this beach until I skip a damn rock, so if you want to be back in time for your evaluation with Vizsla, I suggest you find me another rock.” You raise an eyebrow as you pull out your diplomatic royal voice. He holds his hands back in defense and then tosses you the stone he already had waiting for you. You sigh when you catch it, taking a deep breath and remembering all your training. Don’t spin too much, follow through, add all three motions together, have faith.

You pull back the stone, praying that it will all go according to plan because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take failure. You pick out your target with your eyes before adding together all the advice given to you and sending it. You can hardly believe your eyes when you see it skip at least five times over the water. You cheer out in accomplishment and look over at the Knight, smiling big and triumphant. He runs through the water to you, shouting with you.

“I knew you could do it!” He grabs your waist, congratulating you. You giggle out of achievement. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asks.

You roll your eyes and playfully punch his arm (which luckily this time was not covered by pain-inflicting chainmail). “A lot easier than having to dodge your hits.” You admit.

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s just a rock skip?” You wonder why he would be proud of you for that and ask yourself if you really are that pathetic.

“Yes but you put your mind to it and did it! I know some guys in the royal guard who would have given up on their third try, but you didn’t!”

“I was just trying to impress you.” You sheepishly chuckle.

“We’ll consider myself: Impressed.” He laughs and you blush.

“They don’t teach royals that.”

“Well of course not, I learned how to do that from the guy who took me in after my parents died. You picked it up much faster than I did.” He nods and you smile again.

The two of you catch your breath from the exuberant laughing, but you aren’t able to enjoy the still moment because all too quick it all comes crashing down quickly when he’s pushing you into the water. It isn’t very deep, but the unexpected soak makes you yelp out in surprise. Your initial reaction is to be frustrated, but you can hear him chuckling by your side and you can’t help but mischievously smiling in response. He’s standing, still dry with a hand over his stomach as he laughs at you. You roll your eyes before reaching up to pull him in with you, he yelps out stupefied as he’s splashing down into the tide next to you. You laugh out at him, sitting up in the water which is about waist deep. He wipes some water away from his visor and then splashes you, swatting a handful of the ocean at your face. Your laughing immediately halts from a mouthful of salt water. Your slight makeup washes off, and your hair is starting to get wet, too. You look over at him with a frown before copying his action and spraying him right back. He laughs at you, and you remember that you can’t win this. He has a helmet to keep his eyes clear from the water. You groan out of frustration, and wipe your eyes dry. He’s just looking at you, panting. His clothes were soaked now. You crawl to be closer to him in the water, which thank goodness it wasn’t too cold because you’d be rushing to get out, but the summer weather made it enjoyable to just sit there together.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

You’re next to him, running your fingers lightly up and down his right arm, looking at him fondly. He catches his breath, and brings his wet hand up to cup your face again. You close your eyes, hoping he takes the hint, which he does because a few seconds have your eyes are closed, his arm his pulling away from your touch against it and his lips are pressing into yours. You can tell he completely took the helmet off this time, which means he would take his time kissing you instead of a quick peck to shut you up.

The two of you sit in the water of the Mandalorian Ocean, both of his hands reaching up to hold you as he kisses each eyelid as if to say “keep ‘em closed”, before moving to your lips passionately. His left hand holding your cheek while his right hand finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you into him. You breathe deeply as he practically devours you, his lips moving hungrily. Your hands find their way to his thighs in the water, running your palms up and down the strong muscle, making sure to take notice of the healing wound on his upper-thigh. Your hands eventually find their way to the waistband of his pants, running your fingers under them to pull out the tuck of the tunic. Fingernails come out of the water and up soft abs that flinch at the stroke. It’s hard to work around the suspenders, but you’re able to still run your hands over his torso, getting to know his body for the first and hopefully not the last) time. He has a few scars, you can feel the fresh tissue under your fingers and wonder what caused them. He’s still kissing you, his left hand moves down to hold your jaw and you keep your eyes tightly shut out of fear of this ending too quickly. The kissing noises are obscene, wet and needy amongst the sound of the waves. The Knight licks into your mouth, his tongue hot and forceful as it explores your mouth, you can taste the lust on his lips, and you happily welcome the sensation.

His right hand works around the way your gown has flared out in the water and eventually wraps itself around your ass, pulling you up onto his lap. You’re mostly out of the water now, just your shins being completely submerged. You’re slightly weighed down by the added weight of a wet skirt, but you sit comfortably on the guards lap, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck, kissing him from above now. The kiss is forced down, and this time you’re able to lick into his mouth, nibbling his lip and deepening the kiss further from the angle. You can’t help your hands from cupping his face now, pulling him into you.

Your noses rub into one another, and both of his arms lift you up from behind. Your back arches into him, and your breathing hitches, getting heavier and hotter. He starts to get hard, you feel it under your body, and a mixture of the kissing and the pressure beginning to press into your cunt is really starting to turn you on. You start to just softly grind against him, moaning a little bit at the feeling of his growing cock against your heat. His hands help you, making the humping motion more smooth and natural. The kissing becomes sloppy now, and the water from the wet bodice is making your nipples just that much harder.

Your hands are reaching down to slide the suspenders off his shoulders, and then you’re pulling his shirt up and unhooking the trousers. Your hand is reaching in and finding the base of his hardening, thick length. He groans at your touch, and you’re bending down to kiss his neck, sucking deep, purple hickeys into his golden skin. You’re needy, still grinding against him and trying not let the water slow you down. He’s sighing breathy moans and grunts in your ear as you start jerking him off. The water does make it hard, but there’s something about the added sensation of the flowing water that really made it unique. You swipe your thumb over the head a few times, getting drunk with the unexpected control you have. This was the first time the two of you have fooled around that you really got to have total dominance. You liked it… you really liked.

He did too.

Your clit is able to rut so slightly and deliciously into your fist and his cock, and you’re having a hard time not letting your eyes open and flutter in pleasure. The same shocks of ecstasy ran up and down your spine, and he held you closer to his body, using his strong hands to cup your ass and knead the soft skin. You’re panting, your free hand reaches down to rub your clit, both of your hands working in between your legs as you straddle the Knight. You’re going to cum already and can’t believe it’s happening so fast but choose not to hold it back. You’re moaning out loud when you cum against your fingers, graining against his lap fast and squeezing his cock a little harder.

“Fuck, did you just cum?” He asks deep in his voice, growling in your ear. You hum out in response against his neck pathetically, and all dominance you previously possessed dissolves as you keep jerking off your Knight. “Dirty girl, kiss me. Keep those pretty eyes closed.” His throat is dry, which you remember from last time that that means he’s close, too. You reach up to kiss him again, going in tongue first and breathing in his scent deeply. One of his hands reaches around to cup yours that is working his length, holding it and adding pressure and then making you go faster, you happily oblige and soon the pace is quick and he’s grunting against your lips. He cums in your hand, you feel the heat of it. He’s panting and sighing and it’s all so hot you think you could get turned on by it again.

He rests his head on your shoulder after cumming, catching his breath. You take your hand out of the water and you tangle your fingers through his hair, toying with the curls as he sighs against your wet skin. You open your eyes now, looking out at the horizon, lashes heavy with lust.

[SMUT ENDS HERE]

“Gross.” You chuckle.

“You liked it.” He hums against your collar bone. His hands are steadfast on your lower back, holding you there against his chest. He doesn’t have the cold breastplate separating the two of you, so your hearts were pressed against one another, beating in perfect synch. You could also finally feel how warm his body was, despite the wet clothes and gentle waves. In your peripheral, you can see some of the brown curls.

Your heart warms, this might be the happiest you have ever been. The two of you must have sat like that for a long time because your skin was starting to prune and your hair was slowly drying with the wind. His breathing had completely calmed, and he was so still and quiet that just for a moment you wondered if he had fallen asleep. The sun was almost down completely, only a little sliver of it peaking over the water. You watched it as it fell to its resting place in the ocean, the sky still blazing oranges and yellows but cooling with a soft, pale blue from the top down. It was so… serene, so peaceful. Nothing like the crashing waves of Corellia. This was the best part of Mandalore yet. It’s saving grace.

The crescent moon is on the horizon when he’s turning to kiss your ear one more time and asking you to close your eyes as he pulls the helmet back on.

“We should probably get back, I don’t want to be late for Vizsla and I’m afraid I’ve started to lose track of time.” He stands up and holds his hand out for you to take. You attempt to hoist yourself up out of the water, but the wet dress has added so much weight that you can’t lift your legs up. You grunt in effort, but there’s no budging. “Huh, looks like we need to take that thing off.”

“Again?” You look up at him, you knew he had a smug smirk under all that beskar. You reach behind you to undo the corset just enough for you to step out of it, water dripping from your undergarment as he yanks you up and out of the warm water. “I’m starting to think you just really like seeing me naked.” You mutter and don’t realize how close you were to him while saying that until after. You catch your tongue, holding your breath as he looks down at you.

“Yeah, something like that.” He mumbles in response and you believe you could faint and die right then and there. He doesn’t let the moment stew for nearly as long as you would have liked for it, however and he’s pulling the sopping wet dress out of the water and carrying it back on shore. He hands it to you when he gets to his armor, and you try ringing some of the liquid out from the fabric but it’s almost too heavy for you to even hold in your arms. He re-assembles his gear on top of the wet clothes and you know that can’t be comfortable. Sand clings to your bare, wet feet, and you're desperately trying to brush some of it off before slipping your shoes back on. He’s resituated too fast, he has dressing his armor down to a perfection and you’re sad to see your beach adventure come to a close so quickly.

Before you know it, he’s walking up the hill again with you by his side, making your ways to Clove who has been diligently and patiently chewing on the grass in the field this entire time.

“Ride with me.” You ask as he helps you onto the palomino. “Please.” You ask. “We’ll get to the palace faster and then maybe you can get out of those wet clothes before you have to go to the meeting.” You ask. He sighs but then nods with a shrug, hoisting himself onto the horse behind you. You were riding normally now, and situated yourself comfortably into his chest. The wet gown lay on the back of the horse and you wished you had thought about removing that before getting into the water.

As the two of you start a gentle gallop to the palace, you feel your hair get drier. At one moment he reaches his hand up to run bare fingers over your healing bicep.

“We should have kept this out of the water.” He says in your ear. You twist your head back to reply.

“It’s okay, really. It’s starting to feel a lot better.” You reassure.

“It looks better, but the salt water can only do bad things to it.” He explains. You shrug, unsure of how he expects you to respond.

The three of you arrive at the castle just as the sky begins to darken, both of you still damp from the ocean but your hearts still full and bodies still riding the orgasm high. The Knight helps you off the horse, and now that you aren’t alone, you feel very aware that you’re only in your undergarments and really anyone could see you. You pull the wet gown off the rump of Clove, which was so saturated that it made his fur wet. You hold it against your body, trying to cover yourself up as much as possible. The Knight removes the saddle of the horse, storing it away and removing the bit. He stretches the beast’s ears and then walks over to the far side of the stable to grab a carrot out of a bucket before handing it to Clove as a reward for his hard work. You watch him as he expertly takes care of the animal, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Then, with no warning, the two of you hear the shrill voice of none other than Koska Reeves.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.” She’s crossing over the dirt courtyard to the stables. Her hair has been done now, put up into the customary braids they usually are in. She was now wearing the royal blue color reserved for the Queen’s court, a golden sash sitting on her hips. She held the dress above her feet and she hustled in your direction. You felt scared, you knew Koska meant business, and was not afraid to scold. She was intimidating, to say the least. “You’re soaking wet.” She gasps when she gets to the stable fence. “Come with me, Princess. We must get you changed before anyone sees you or the Queen will have my head.” She sighs, opening the gate for you to walk through. “As for you, Vizsla’s here early.”

“What.” You heard the drop in his voice from panic. “Why?”

“No one knew, he just arrived before we could do any regular welcoming. The evaluation is starting in ten minutes, I suggest you move your ass.” She shakes her head. You were incredibly thankful you had both rode Clove now. He wouldn’t have made it back in time if you hadn’t. You did feel a twinge of guilt, however. You shouldn’t have pushed for that so much and risked him missing his mandatory meeting. But an overwhelming part of you was more than happy that you got to experience those few hours alone with him. He swears under his breath before bowing to you, shrugging apologetically and then full sprinting towards the servant quarter’s entrance. “I would take that from you,” Koska says in reference to the wet dress, “But I’m already in my ceremonial dress. I can’t get it wet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I can manage.” You nod. The two of you begin to walk back inside, and the night time breeze runs over your wet body, making you shudder ever-so-slightly. When you get back inside, the Knight is nowhere to be seen, and there’s only a fraction of the people as there were earlier. The masks had all been moved somewhere, which let you know they finished them. A mother sat on a chair by the fireplace, nursing a small baby and three young boys who couldn’t be any older than seventeen all sat around one table playing some type of card game and eating buttered bread. They were the stable boys. The three of them stared at you when you walked in, in awe of your unparalleled beauty and the fact that you were carrying a massive, heavy, wet dress.

Koska led you down a hall adjacent to the fireplace. You could see into a few sleeping quarters. The little ones were dozing off, and in one room was a couple laughing together. The small community that existed underneath the palace was something you deeply admired. You wouldn’t have had any idea any of this was here if you hadn’t pushed for today’s events, and you truly loved it. You loved how all these people found refuge and a home here.

You wished you could, too.

Koska stops at one door, taking the wet dress out of your hands and tossing it into the room before closing the wooden door shut and progressing back down the hallway. She eventually opens up a door to a small room with a single bed and large chest.

“Is this your room?” You ask, looking around and familiarizing yourself with it. A single embroidery hoop with a half-done pattern sat on the bed, on the windowsill was a melting candle whose wax had dried in a cascading pattern on the ancient stone, and at the foot of the bed was a small table with a wash basin and hairpins.

“No, It’s my sister’s. My room is closer to the Queen’s.” She nods. You had no clue Koska had a sister. She opens up the chest and pulls out a dry under-slip and simple but pretty purple dress. It wasn’t a ballgown and had long, bell sleeves in a similar fashion to Koska’s. There was some moon and star embroidery on the bodice.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You said, starting to shiver a little now.

“Her name is Alva, she works in the kitchen.” She nods as she crosses over to the table, opening up a little box to pull out a horse-hair comb.

“Will she mind us using her things?”

“Well, you’re the Princess, so I hope not.” She shrugs and crosses over the room again like a madwoman, pulling a wool blanket from the chest. “Here, strip and dry off.” You look at her, confused. “Alright… I’ll turn around then.” Koska rolls her eyes and turns to face the wall. You peel off the wet slip, and use the wool material to wipe your body dry. It wasn’t nearly as soft and luxurious as the cotton robes you have five floors up, but it will do for now. You have sand everywhere, and you mean everywhere. You brush it off as best you can, hoping it doesn’t make too much of a mess for anyone to have to clean. You then pull on the dry clothes, and clear your throat when you’re done and decent.

Koska turns around and smiles. “Sit, I’ll brush your hair for you and then escort you back upstairs to see your parents.”

You had completely forgotten that they would be arriving tonight. You get a twinge of adrenaline. You’ve been so homesick, and it will be nice to see some familiar faces after such an emotional two weeks. You sit at the stool in front of the table, and Koska carefully combs out your knotted but drying hair.

“So… It looks like you two had fun.” She says. You smile and blush.

“Yes, we did.” You chuckle.

“That’s good, it’s been so long since he’s had fun. He deserves it.” She hums in response and you immediately question how they know one another so well again.

“How do you know each other?” You ask, knowing there's no harm in that.

Koska sighs, “We… used to work together in a sense. He’s a good man, an even better father.” She shrugs. So that’s four people you can think of who know about his son, You, Koska, Peli and the woman from Isla’s bar… although that situation seemed different, magical almost.

“You two never…” You trail off, not really wanting to hear the answer but not stopping yourself before you ask it anyways.

Koska laughs out loud this time, stopping the combing motion, “Oh stars, no. Never. I have someone else… and he has you.”

Your heart warms at that phrase. “Who is this ‘someone else’ you speak of?” You ask, enjoying the casual girl talk the two of you are sharing.

She hums again, “You’ve met her, she’s shorter than me and far more serious, she has a fire burning, but she’s special to me.” You can hear the smile in Koska’s tone.

You wonder who she’s talking about.

—

Taglist: @remmysbounty @snow30285 @what-iwish-you-knew @carbonated-beverage @frogllady @baileys-corner @song-of-sea-and-sky @leaiorganas @weirdowithnobeardo @ginger-swag-rapunzel @bewitchedbodyandsol @mograh @justavolcano @theokatz @lowkeytesss @hallway5 @dat-girl-in-corner @news4bees @istealyof00d @songofcosplay @waffles4lif3 @mcueveryday @310ra @thatonedindjarinfan @songofseraphine @callmekane @theelilbritt @bbwithaknife @firstofficerwiggles @jedi-jesi @ironbabey @minttchipp @bel-ppa @honey-hi @cp11 @venomous-ko @bbwithaknife @lunatic-sunsets @1800-fight-me @foundtheavacados @elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @florenceivy @theanothersherlockian @spideysimpossiblegirl

“If you are included in the taglist, you are expected to interacted with the post you are tagged in (ex. Reblogs, comments and notes), if I notice that you are not interacting with the applicable post, you will be removed from the taglist”

—

[dreamypeaches]

time to ourselves | vince dunn x reader

summary: after the birth of your son, you and your husband finally find some time to yourselves. 

warnings: SMUT, daddy kink, choking, cursing, spanking 

word count: 1.7k

a/n: so i’m turning into a hockey blog now ig. i post too much smut, but i have a barzy fic coming soon that is mostly plot, but ofc there will be smut in there

It wasn’t often you got time to yourselves. 10 months ago, you’d given birth to a beautiful baby boy. He had Vince’s curls and your eyes, and now that he was walking, Vince’s energy. When you weren’t chasing him around the house, you were wrestling him down for a nap or trying to get him to eat at least one bite of the food you made. You loved your little one dearly, and so did Vince, but Vince wasn’t always there, busy with practice or out on the road, leaving you at your wits end some days. You missed your husband and you missed the mind-blowing sex you two used to have. Lately, if you weren’t too tired to form a coherent thought, it was mostly some quick missionary sex or Vince going down on you if he was in the mood. Tonight, you wanted to change that. You needed him more than you needed anything else, and your son had blessed you by falling asleep early with no trouble.

While Vince was busy finishing up the dishes, like the wonderful husband he was, you got ready in your bathroom. It had been a while since you wore any makeup, so you kept it simple, a little mascara, and Vince’s favorite shade of lipstick on you. Stripping down you tried to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. You know Vince would always love your body, but you couldn’t help but dislike the way you looked. You had yet to lose your pregnancy weight and your stomach and thighs were covered in stretch marks. The only thing you liked about your body right now was your breasts, which looked pretty good after months of breastfeeding. You turned away from the mirror and grabbed the jersey hanging in your closest with the large 29 on the back and your shared last name. Pulling it over your naked body, you giggled as you imagined the look on your husband’s face when he saw you in nothing but his jersey. Arranging yourself on the bed in the sexiest position you could, and waited.

“Hey baby, dishes are done, do you wanna watch a movie or-” Vince’s words were caught in his throat as he stepped into the room eyes widening as he took in your form.

“I think I have an idea of what I want to do tonight,” You said as you sat up beckoning him with your finger. He smirked, pulling his shirt over his head and he dived onto the bed, immediately hovering over you. One hand moved to cup your hip while the other gripped your jaw and smashed his lips against yours. It was heated and passionate, months of want and need passing between the two of you as his tongue pried your lips open and started to explore your mouth.

“Fuck, did you wear this just for me?”

“Of course I did. All for you, daddy,” The pet name, that had taken on a whole new meaning after you’d given birth, sent a fire through him and you could see the hunger burning in his eyes. He smirked down at you, hand trailing down from your jaw to wrap around your throat.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for daddy?”

You could feel his hard-on pressing against you and the pressure around your neck sent pleasure straight down to your core. You could only whimper, which wasn’t adequate enough for your husband. He squeezed tighter and bit your ear lobe.

“Use your words, baby girl,” He whispered in your ear.

“Yes, daddy, I’ll be a good girl for you.”

That was enough for him, as he released your throat and started to kiss down your body, leaving marks on your neck and collar bone. He pushed the jersey up to expose your stomach, but you instinctively tried to push it down.

“Baby, let me see you. You’re fucking beautiful, don’t cover yourself up,”

“But I’m all…soft.”

The lust faded from his eyes for a moment as he looked up at you, love replacing the heat.

“It doesn’t matter how soft you are. You are so fucking beautiful to me,” He pushed the jersey up again and placed a feather-light kiss on to the skin just beneath your breasts.

“You are the mother of my child, my loving wife, my best friend, and the most stunning and sexiest woman I have ever known. Nothing will ever change that.”

You felt tears gather at the corner of your eyes. Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back up to meet your lips. There’s more passion and love than sexual tension this time and you hold him close to you. He broke away, peppering kisses down your cheeks and neck and back to your stomach, all the way down to your exposed cunt.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good. You’ll know how beautiful you are. I promise.”

His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked, eliciting a sweet moan from your lips. You reached down to tangle your fingers into his curls and press him closer to your pussy. His strong arms wrapped around you, one around your thigh the other pressing down on your hips. He moved his tongue down to lick at your entrance, flicking in and out of your folds while his thumb started to circle your clit. His lips and tongue always worked wonders on you. Even in the past months when sexy times were limited, he never failed to go down on you and make you cum all over his face. Tonight was no different, but now he had time.

You came several minutes later, but he refused to let up. His tongue and fingers to work you until you came again with a shout of his name. He sat up, wiping your juices from his chin and smirking down at you.

“What did you call me, baby?”

You could barely speak, still coming down from both your highs.

“V-Vince…” He leaned down, grasping your throat.

“Uh, uh, baby girl. Try again.”

“Daddy.”

He kissed you, forcing you to taste yourself as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

“Need a reminder that I’m daddy? Fuck, maybe I need to put another baby in you so you don’t forget.”

He flipped you over onto your stomach, quickly removing his pants before planting a hard slap on your ass.

“Want me to fuck a baby into you? You looked so beautiful pregnant with my child. You’re such a good mom, fuck. I would have fifty more babies with you.”

Vince gripped your hair and lifted your head up, holding you there while he lined himself up with your entrance.

“What do you say, baby girl? Want daddy to fuck you good and fill you up with my cum?”

“Fuck yes, daddy, please!”

“Look at you with my name on your back. You’re all mine, baby girl,” He whispered into your ear, chest pressed against your back as he slipped into you. You both moaned in synch as he stretched you out slowly. You knew he wanted to take his time with you, after months of quickies. He was going to savor your pussy and the way you clenched around him.

He pulled all the way out before pushing back in just as slow as before. He let go of your hair, letting you bury your face into the mattress as you moaned out. His fingers were surely going to bruise your hips, his grip tight as he continued to thrust into you agonizingly slow.

“Daddy, please,” You whimpered.

“What do you need, baby girl?”

“Harder…faster. Please just fuck me.”

He froze, buried in you to the hilt. You whimpered, bucking your hips back, trying to get any sort of friction. It was the wrong idea, as he slapped you hard before gripping the back of your neck and pushing further down into the mattress.

“I’m in control, baby, and I’ll fuck you how I want to fuck you.”

You turned your head, letting your cheek rub against the soft sheets.

“Don’t you want to fuck me, daddy? Fill me up with your cum and knock me up. Don’t you want to cum in me, daddy?”  

He growled, pulling all the way out and slamming back in, making you shout out. He was relentless as he fucked you now, hitting deep inside you with every thrust, hands gripping your hip and neck and pushing you down as he fucked you.

“Fuck that pussy is so good. You’re taking daddy’s dick so well.”

All you could do was mewl and moan, gripping the sheets as you tried to ground yourself as he fucked the thoughts from your mind. All you could think of was Vince, his dick inside you, his hands on you, the grunts and praises falling from his mouth. You wanted nothing more than for him to cum in you and get you pregnant again. You wanted everything with him, to continue the life you had together, and let him fuck you like this for the rest of time.

He pulled you up by your hair before gripping your neck, pressing your back against him as he railed into you. He bit your neck, making you scream for daddy. His fingers moved to circle your clit and if he wasn’t holding you up, you knew you would have collapsed right there. Soon you were cumming hard, stars flashing behind your eyes.

Vince followed you soon after, pushing you back down onto the bed as he gave a few more hard, deep thrusts before spilling himself deep inside of you. You could feel him panting above your back, a drop of sweat dripping from his brow and onto your heated skin. He fell onto his side, pulling you back against him while keeping his dick inside you. He pressed several sweet kisses to your neck and shoulders, hand moving under the jersey to span across your belly.

“I can’t wait to have another one, baby. Seriously, I would have ten kids with you.”

You giggled turning your head to give him a kiss.

“I love you, Vince. I love having a family with you. I would have twenty kids with you.”

“Oh, you’re trying to one-up me now. Baby, I will knock you up every year until you can’t anymore. And I love you too.”

He started to slowly thrust into you again, fingers moving up to play with your nipples.

“I think we need to keep going, you know, just to make sure we take every opportunity to knock you the fuck up.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

tagging: @sortagaysortahigh @shelbsays @stfukie @starkeyseguin @dmonchld @bricksatanakinswindow @anxietyandtacos @teenagekook

[wlntrsldler]

champagne problems (j.p one shot)

PROMPT: Y/N has to leave and she leaves her boyfriend, James Potter, behind. 

WARNINGS: mentions of death, angst

WC: 2.8K+ 

HP MASTERLIST

-

champagne problems (j.p one shot)

You sat nervously on the chair that Dumbledore had in his study. He called for you early in the day, waking you from your peaceful slumber in the arms of your boyfriend, James Potter. You had to carefully untangle your limbs and crawl out of bed to meet with Dumbledore. It’s urgent and confidential, his note said. 

“Thank you for coming so early,” he cleared his throat, making himself comfortable on the seat opposite you. “This is a matter of life or death, Miss Y/L/N. I’m glad you treated it with such urgency.” 

You nodded, “Of course. When I agreed to be a part of the Order, I meant it. What do you need me to do, Professor?” 

He looked down at his feet, as if afraid to bear the bad news. You’ve never once seen him like this and it only furthered the sickness in your stomach. It must really be a large ask, “As you know, the Dark Lord and his followers are getting more and more relentless.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed, thinking back to the people you’ve already lost and how you could tell that people were starting to lose hope in the Order’s cause.

“After the attack on the McKinnons, we realized how ruthless he and his followers are.” 

The images of the McKinnon family flashed in your mind. You were the one to discover them. Your best friend since 11, laying on the floor cold, surrounded by the bodies of the people you considered family. It still haunted you everyday. 

Dumbledore sensed your discomfort, “My deepest condolences.” 

“Thank you.”

“But as I was saying, after that attack, we know now that everyone is in danger,” he continued, “This is where you come in. You’re Muggleborn, correct?”

You let out a sound of confirmation, “Yes.”

“Right. We need you to be in the Muggle world. You need to be out there protecting Muggle families of Order members. We cannot have them out there unprotected, not when there’s this war going on. They’re helpless. Someone needs to be out there with them. Someone who understands them but also understands our world.” 

“I’ll do it,” you said with no hesitation, “Of course I’ll do it. I agree with you. Someone should be out there with them.” 

“I had no doubt that you would agree but there’s a catch.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What is it?”

“You cannot tell anybody where you’re going,” he explained, leaning close to whisper the next set of directions, “Muggle families, most of them don’t know what’s going on and the members of the Order would feel a sense of comfort to know that there’s someone— one of us— out there at least looking out for their families. You need to be discrete. And nobody, and I mean nobody, can know what you’re doing.” 

“I understand, Professor.” 

“Miss Y/L/N,” he repeated, voice harsher this time. It sent a shiver down your spine, hearing his authoritative voice directed at you, “I mean nobody. Not even Mr. Potter.” 

Your face paled, gulping down your words. You were shocked. You thought the secrecy only applied to the Muggles you were protecting, not the other wizards or witches. Especially not James. You stood up, “Why can’t I tell James?”

“One must be blind if they can’t see that Mr. Potter would follow you into the jaws of death to make sure you’re safe,” Dumbledore half-heartedly chuckled. He followed your movements and stood up, “But we simply cannot have him follow you or contact you. There’s too much at risk. He will try to follow you, but we need him here. He’ll try to contact you but there’s a large chance that the Dark Lord and his followers will intercept it.” 

You remained silent. Beats passed before you even opened your mouth to speak again and when you did, no words came out. You were angry. You were upset. You were speechless because it seemed like Dumbledore was asking you to do something that you swore to yourself and to James you’d never do. You paced around his study, not caring that the Professor you once looked up to was waiting impatiently for your answer. But it hit you half-way through combing through the facts that no matter what you said, Dumbledore would still send you out there anyway and James would have to hear some convoluted story from him instead of you. 

“You’re asking me to break the heart of the love of my life by telling him I’m leaving him so he doesn’t ask questions…” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes, “So I can save the lives of innocent people?”

He looked at you blankly, only realizing then that that was exactly what he was asking of you. He nodded, “Yes.” 

“Well I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” 

“No.” 

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes tightly. When you opened them again, you saw the sun shyly peeking through the curtains of Dumbledore’s office. James would be waking soon. With a heavy heart you asked, “When do I leave?”

“Now.” 

You shook your head, wiping your eyes as your tears fell, “No, no, tonight is Euphemia’s and Fleamont’s wedding anniversary party. I can’t leave, not until I talk to James.” 

“Miss Y/L/N, this is an urgent matter.” 

“I know,” you snapped, exhaling through your nose harshly. You stared at Dumbledore, not wavering in your stance, “I know it’s selfish but I’m about to be selfless for Merlin knows how long. I’m about to break the heart of the love of my life and he might not ever forgive me for it. So I’m going to be selfish for one more day. With all due respect, Professor, you can keep your protective charms on them for a few more hours.” 

He didn’t say anything else. You took it as a sign of his agreement and you quickly apparated out of his study and back into the Potters’ home. You landed on their front porch, studying it very carefully. You felt sick as the realization that it may be your last time in this home forever, hit you. The war was brutal and it takes everyone it can. There was no reason as to why it would spare you. 

Before you entered, you wiped your stray tears from your cheeks and mustered up a smile as you heard clattering from behind the door. You knew the Potters were up being the morning people that they all were, not to mention the fact that tonight was a busy night for them. With one last sense of normalcy, you twisted the doorknob and entered the house you’ve grown to call a home. Instantly, you smelled the scent of fresh breakfast and a pot of coffee that Fleamont should win awards for. 

You hung your coat on the rack and wiped your shoes on the rug, scraping away the bits and pieces of the conversation with Dumbledore that lingered. 

“I don’t appreciate waking up alone,” James called from halfway down the stairs. His hair was in disarray under his hoodie. He wore pajama pants that were discarded on the floor when you first left this morning. He sported a playful pout on his lips, stopping right in front of you, “Where were you, my love?”

“Just went out for a walk,” you lied, “Couldn’t sleep.” 

James wrapped his arms around you, placing his chin on the top of your head, “Well next time, wake me. We could’ve gone on a walk together and I wouldn’t be worried in the wee hours of the morning, wondering why my darling girlfriend has left me all alone.”

You leaned up to place a loving kiss on his lips, wiping away the pout that was once there, “Sorry, love. Next time I’ll wake you.” 

“Good,” he smiled, intertwining your fingers as he dragged you to the kitchen where the wonderful aroma was coming from. His thumb absentmindedly drew shapes on the top of your hand, making your heart plunge deeper into your stomach.  You squeezed his hand. You’d be giving this up.

“Morning!” Euphemia beamed, already beginning to eat the feast that was prepared for the morning, “Are you two ready for the dinner party tonight?” 

“Oh, that’s tonight!” James exclaimed, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “Godric, I’ve forgotten.” 

“Shame that you’ve forgotten such an important night,” Fleamont shook his head, hiding his smile behind his coffee cup, “It’s an occasion, James.” 

He blushed, ducking his head in hopes that you won’t catch it, “Yes, I sure hope so.” 

You were too preoccupied with the conversation that you had with Dumbledore this morning to even notice the strange way that James was acting or the grins on his parents’ faces. You merely nodded along, not really listening to their clues and conversations. You smiled at the right places and hummed at the rest. You offered no real contribution at breakfast. 

Soon enough, the day began to move faster and faster and it was nightfall. Members of the Order started to trickle in the party, congratulating the Potters on such a happy and healthy marriage. It looked beautiful. There were lights strung everywhere and the food was delightful. People were at ease for the first time in over a year. It was a nice distraction from what was happening outside the safety of the Potters’ home. It was well-needed. 

You watched with a heavy heart as James danced with his mother. His parents celebrated their wedding anniversary with a small get together, believing that everyone deserved a little bit of fun in the midst of the heartache of the war. You sipped on your champagne, timidly, watching your boyfriend from the sidelines. 

Sirius smiled at you, nudging your shoulder with his, “Hey, how are you holding up?” 

“Fine, I suppose,” you replied, shooting him a tight-lipped smile. You looked down at your feet, tears beginning to pool in your eyes. “Marlene would’ve loved this.” 

“She would’ve,” he agreed, taking a sip from his glass. “I miss her.” 

“Me too.”

The two of you stood in silence, with your head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He didn’t dare move, knowing that the weight that he was carrying was just as big of a burden on you. Sirius moved his glass to his opposite hand and took it all in one gulp. After the song ended, another slow one began and you felt your cheeks flush as James made his way over to you. 

“Not trying to steal my girl are you, Pads?” James joked, approaching you and Sirius.

“Tried to in the past, Prongs, but it seems she only has eyes for you,” Sirius winked, moving away to leave you and James alone and to bother Remus. “See you guys later.” 

“Bye, Siri,” you waved, placing your glass down on a nearby table to wrap your arms around James’ neck, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Potter?” 

“Dance with me,” he murmured into your skin, holding you impossibly close. 

“You know I can’t dance,” you sighed, although you weren’t making any moves to get away from him. 

“Good thing, I can,” James replied, already beginning to sway you back and forth, “Just follow my lead, darling.” 

You let yourself fall apart in his arms, letting go of all your apprehensions for the duration of the song. James hummed the melody in your ear, rubbing circles down your back. His cologne filled your senses, making your stomach turn. He kissed your temple, his lips lingering there longer than usual before he pulled away. 

This was going to be difficult. 

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, hoping that the chatter of the guests would silence your sniffling. You couldn’t help but release the tears that have been threatening to spill since the night began. Your lips quivered as you peppered kisses on his exposed skin. When the song came to an end, you sucked in a breath, intertwining your fingers with his, before leading him away to a spot away from everyone else. 

James followed you without question, trusting you with every fiber of his being. You calmed yourself down before you stopped in your shared bedroom. James had a large smile on his face, still love-struck with you. You forced yourself to smile as you sat on the unmade bed. 

“Y/N,” James began, holding your hands in his. He was down on both knees in front of you, cupping your face with his unoccupied hand. James kissed your lips softly, letting the buzz of the party dull in the background. He focused on nothing else but the feeling of your lips on his and the love that was coursing through his veins. “My love, my darling, I love you.” 

James pulled away, the same smile still on his lips. He let go of your hands and your face and dug one hand into his pocket. When his hand emerged, a small ring sat in the middle of his palm and your heart shattered. You clasped your hands on top of your parted lips as you began to bawl— not for the reasons you were supposed to. 

He was still oblivious to your plans and he chuckled tearfully, moving the small band in between the pads of his thumb and his index finger. James began to speak, “Y/N, I love you more than anything in the world. I knew from the moment that I met you that I was meant to be with you and only you. My love, you make this gray world so full of color and I thank you everyday for giving me a reason to keep fighting. I w—”

“James, stop,” you cried, shaking your head furiously. 

James furrowed his eyebrows, confused, but continuing, “No, love, let me finish. I-I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with yo—”

You pushed him off far enough to step away. Your tears were streaming down your face by now, hands shaking as the poisonous words dripped from your tongue like venom, “James, I don’t want to be with you.” 

The only sound that could be heard was of the ring falling from his grasp. The sound of the metal hitting the ground was so loud, it almost masked the sound of James’ heart breaking into pieces. He shook his head, clamoring to get to his feet. He stumbled a few times trying to reach you, the ring on the floor long forgotten. 

“W-what?” he shook his head, tilting it to the left, as if pleading you to explain his misery to him, “W-what are you talking about?” 

You gulped, “I don’t want to be with you, James. I’m sorry, I-I can’t marry you.” 

“Why not?” James whimpered. 

The brokenness in his voice almost made your knees give out. You leaned against his desk for support as he walked closer to you. You swallowed, hating yourself for having to lie to him, “Don’t, James. I just… I’ve changed and I don’t want this anymore.”

“What did I do wrong?” 

“I-I..” you looked at his face, a part of your heart breaking off with every sniffle. He looked utterly ruined and you knew you caused it. You were at a loss for words so you just shook your head and shrugged. 

“You fell out of love with me.” 

No, I could never, you wanted to yell. I’m in love with you and I have been since we were 11 and I’ll never stop until the day I die because James Potter, you are the love of my life and I hate the way I have to hurt you to save the lives of others. I don’t know how I’ll be able to live with myself knowing that I saved people’s lives at the cost of the life of the one who means the most to me. 

James took your silence as confirmation. He fell back on the bed, accidentally kicking the ring to your foot in the process. You picked it up, ignoring the pang of guilt in your chest as you examined it. Engraved within it were the words: “Mrs. Potter.” It was the ring Fleamont gave Euphemia when he proposed. 

You looked down at the floor, placing the ring on James’ desk. The sound that the ring made when it was placed down made James cringe and he looked away to hide the tears rolling down his face. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it after realizing that there was nothing you could say now to make things better. 

You opened the door and walked downstairs, staring longingly out the window to watch the party in full swing. In the corner, you saw Dumbledore, nursing a glass of champagne. His eyes met yours and he tipped his head, knowing exactly what just transpired in your absence from the party. 

With one last look up the steps, perhaps debating if you should run back up there and tell James the truth, you shrugged on your coat and walked out of the Potters’ house for the last time. 

**NO LONGER DOING GENERAL TAGS BUT I WILL BE TAGGING BASED ON THIS SPECIFIC POST

i’m planning on publishing a sirius version!

@whoreforfredweasley @thetierdslytherin @strawberriesonsummer

[katsulia]

He offends you - part2

featuring : Atsumu, Kageyama 

TW : angst, weight insecurity 

You can find part 1 here 

a/n : sorry for the long wait ! requests are still open

Atsumu 

Not surprisingly Atsumu had got up early the next morning without any particular attention for you. Your state of mind hadn't improved and you had no motivation, so you spent the whole morning on the couch without paying attention to the TV programs. As if that wasn't enough, a message from Osamu came to remind you of the evening before.

Osamu 

How are the Onigiris I had added some that aren't on the market yet, and I would have liked your opinion? (Atsumu's is still shitty)

In front of the little enthusiasm of Atsumu you hadn't had the spirit to eat what his twin had prepared. At least it will avoid making lunch and that's good because it was the last thing you wanted to do.

You

Sorry Osamu! We didn't have the pleasure of tasting them, he was too tired! I'll give you my best opinion in a little while

Osamu

Never mind, let's do it at his next game! I've got a booth, and I could pick you up! Can't wait to see you, (not him tho) !

The match or the only thing that Atsumu was preoccupied with at the moment but that had slipped your mind. Yet you were the kind of person who never missed his games and always wore his jersey when you went there to be the best of his supporters. Today you weren't even sure you wanted to go, or even if you were welcome. If he considered you too clingy and preferred to avoid you, he probably didn't want to have to face you there. Volleyball is what he loves above all else, there was no point in tainting his bubble of happiness and it's better to let him enjoy it with his teammates. Just the thought of it made your heart tighten in your chest. Because what you loved most about him was seeing him happy on the field. If giving him space made him better able to handle your relationship then so be it. 

Atsumu came home earlier than the day before, he knew that there was no point in staying late when the game was tomorrow. Once again he threw his gym bag into the hallway before heading to the bathroom. You hadn't reacted, you had to stay back, that's what he wanted. However, when he came back into the living room, his hair still wet and only in his underpants, he sat down next to you on the sofa.

"The bastard Samu didn't stop pissing me off because I didn't give us a shot at his latest recipes. Should we do it tonight and tell him how bad it is? "His way of talking was so caustic with that notorious smirk on his face. You just nodded your head without much effort. He frowned at your reaction, or rather your lack of reaction.

"Bad day? "His question was sincere, but the truth is that it was a pretty bad evening, bad night and bad day because of him and he didn't seem to realize it. He was staring at you a little worried while your eyes avoided his, preferring the weather report. 

"Yo babe you can tell me everything, I can't risk my lucky charm being in a bad mood tomorrow. "His tone was still playful but that didn't make you want to talk to him either, which made him want to get close to you and put his arms around your waist.

"STOP! Let go of me." Your sudden outburst caught him by surprise and he let you get away from him. But the little voice in your head was just reminding you that only yesterday you were cligny in his eyes even though inside your heart was beating faster just at the sensation of that little touch.

"What's up? Seriously, tell me what's wrong?" He was completely genuine and had given up being a tease. Reluctantly he kept his hands to himself so he wouldn't offend you any more.

"I'm a cligny and that's why you just ignored me. I promise I just wanted you to relax because you're stressed out. I don't want it to happen again so... just... uh... it's fine. "Your eyes were beaming and tears were threatening to run down. This vision was heartbreaking for Atsumu who remained silent for a long time not knowing what to do. Cligny? Oh no, he could spend days hugging you. But it all came back to him. The bath left behind, the onigiris abandoned and lying far away from you in bed. It was all his fault. A wave of guilt suddenly gnawed at him. 

"I'm sorry baby. You're not cligny at all. I'm just an asshole, okay? Like, you don't deserve this at all. And you're way too good for me, I'm really sorry. I was stressed out and I made you feel like you didn't deserve my attention. "His voice for once wasn't serene, but he felt really bad. He ventured out again and tried to take you gently in his arms, and to his delight you let him. 

"I am truly sorry. What I suggest we eat these famous Onigiri ? And then go to bed with each other. And tomorrow after my game, we can do whatever you want. I'll even book a day at your favorite spa, okay? That's what you deserve. I'll even stay home all week just for cuddles. "He spoke softly as he stroked your hair. You knew he was sincere and that's why you didn't answer and kept your eyes closed enjoying the pleasant feeling of his fingers on your scalp. 

And as he had promised, he respected everything he had said, becoming a bit too cligny himself.

Kageyama

When you went to bed you locked yourself in the bathroom to put on your clothes to sleep. Something you never usually did, as you were never ashamed to change in front of Kageyama. He didn't really pay much attention to it, but you preferred that he avoided seeing you so vulnerable for fear that his eyes would look a little too much at the places where he didn't like your body. You waited behind the door until the light was finally turned off to go back to your room, not letting him see what was hidden under your pyjamas. You slipped into the sheets quickly while putting as much distance between you and him as possible, which would prevent him from feeling you and being repulsed by your heavy body. This too wasn't your usual behaviour, you always snuggled up to him, saying that his body was working like a permanent heater. But once again Kageyama was a little dense.

Even more surprisingly, you got up before him so that he wouldn't see you get changed and you opted for large jogging pants and a big sweater. He finally woke up and was quite stunned to see you already up and focused on your phone but didn't make any remarks. There are days like that he thought. He invited you to join him for breakfast, but to his dismay you had already had it, or at least that's what you said. The internet articles on how to lose weight and body fat were much more important and a bowl of chocolate cereal was not going to help you. When he was done he sat on the couch with you. He just wanted to enjoy the weekend with you and judging by the outfit you looked like you wanted to stay home and chill, which he didn't mind. However, you didn't lift your head off your phone and pay him any attention.

"What are you doing on your phone? "He was always so straightforward, but his curiosity itched him not understanding how you could stay away from him.

"Nothing special..." But once again your eyes stayed focused on the screen of your phone and he couldn't help but look over your shoulder. Sports programs? Why were you looking into that? He already had a coach and a whole team of nutritionists and you really didn't need to worry about him.

"Y/N you don't have to..." His life choices didn't have to affect your daily life, no matter if he had to incorporate animal proteins at lunch and fruity smoothies in the morning you didn't have to endure it. Still in your head, you did. You needed to lose weight, to build up your body. You were on two different wavelengths. He didn't push the subject any further, knowing full well that he wouldn't let you do it at the table, and he opted to put his head on your lap and let his hand caress your thighs. Immediately you took his hand off your thighs and tried to push his head away. He couldn't and shouldn't feel what was under your jogging pants. 

Kageyama was more than startled. Had he done something wrong? This sudden reaction from you was unexpected and he couldn't understand why.

"Is my head too heavy for your laps? "How ironic was it, heavy was he? Whereas yesterday it was you. The words were stuck in your throat and your breathing accelerated; you were in a state of panic and didn't know what to say or how to get out of this humiliating situation. You would do anything to forget what Kageyama had said the day before when he didn't seem to remember at all. You know that he was often clueless but right away it only made you feel worse. His gaze was still fixed on you looking for the source of your discomfort in order to understand what was wrong with you. He was lost and was not used to all this, which increased his stress level. His exterior was almost imperceptible, except for the fact that his eyes were frantically scanning your body from top to bottom. It was worse, you felt embarrassed and naked under his blue pupils but still didn't dare to say anything. Inside his mind was only stirring to try to understand what was going on and already he felt guilty for not being able to assess the problem and help you. Finally the first tears came to your cheeks, which only made you feel more embarrassed, but he couldn't stay silent.

"Did I hurt you? " The tone of his voice indicated hesitation and a severe lack of confidence. He wanted to help you but felt powerless and hated himself for it. Every time you were there for him when he came back from defeat or frustration and the one time you needed him he was of no use.

"Uh... no." You, on the other hand, hated yourself for being so weak and sensitive. You had nothing to prove to him and crying for so little seemed totally stupid. Yet you couldn't help the fact that it was him and that he was always so clueless really did put a strain on your chest. Kageyama gulped down his saliva with difficulty still not knowing what to do. All of a sudden you started talking again.

"I just don't understand. If you don't like the way I am, why do you stay with me? I know you can date any girl with an athletic body like yours. "Your eyes were empty and tears kept coming out which made your voice even weaker. He still didn't understand, where did all these ideas come from? "I know I don't look like them, but you could have said long before that my body was too big for your. That's why I want to do some sport, so that you don't think I'm heavy when I lie down with you. » 

And that's when he realized... He was definitely the worst boyfriend in the world: his lack of communication and his inability to express his feelings well was problematic, but he had taken it to another level. This time it was his words that hurt. He would accept a defeat at the hands of Hinata rather than this, knowing that he was the one causing the pain of his favorite person was terrible. But certainly not as awful as what you're dealing with right now, and the insecurity that it brought you.

"You're perfect. I... I think you're perfect like that. And there's nothing to change. I'm... I'm sorry. I don't think you have to change your body or your weight at all. What I said yesterday was totally inappropriate. I wasn't expecting you to join me. I was focused on my game. And I know that's no excuse! Not a valid argument at all! Just please don't listen to my nonsense. I'm the worst at it. "He couldn't find the right words to express how guilty he felt and to be able to comfort you as you did so well when it came to him. Your head rose up to face him. For a long minute you stared at each other without either of you knowing what to say. And when you cracked a tiny smile Kageyama felt himself revived and meticulously he moved closer to you, taking your hand with his thumb stroking it.

"I am the worst. "And he rushed straight into your arms, his head in the crook of your neck. He liked to feel his body against yours and wouldn't change that for anything in the world. Eventually he detached himself from you and suddenly carried you like a princess.

"Heavy? Says who? Probably some idiot. You're literally perfect. " It was already the third time he used the word 'perfect' and your heart exploded. You also felt the heat rising up to your cheeks almost like the red tint of Kageyama's. There was no need for more words and as he continued to carry you he led you to your room. In his case actions proved more than words and he intended to show you that by first gently removing your sweater. And that's how he put his stamina to the test. 

[janetbrown711]

"If I die, I'm never speaking to you again" - Wakko

Yakko had never considered himself the lucky type, which was hard to refute looking back at his past, but ever since Dot got sick, every time she lasted the night felt like a miracle. 

Scratchnsniff had been ultimately been right, staying there for three days did a lot to revive Dot’s spirits, though it was still clear she was still sick. It was just... better now. She wasn’t sweating and shivering uncontrollably anymore. 

The list of foods the doctor gave him wasn’t totally unreasonable, they were affordable and were often in the market. However, Dot had a tendency to be a picky eater, and since taste and healthiness often didn’t correlate, Yakko often had to trick or force her to eat. It was frustrating, but there was no way in hell Yakko was going to let her get away without eating, no matter how much she pleaded. She was losing weight at a frightening pace, she needed to eat. He didn’t care what she wanted. He’d do anything to keep her alive. 

And Wakko... poor kid. Wakko seemed just as- if not more- worried about Dot than Yakko was. He spent every day working as hard as he could for money, but the results were starting to get worse. The taxing on Acme Falls increased, and soon the menial tasks Wakko had been doing disappeared, as shop keepers simply couldn’t afford to lose a single ha’penny. Because of that, the amount of food they could buy was becoming scarce, so now they only had stale bread and vegetables for Dot. Everything Yakko and Wakko ate was hunted. However, the lack of business never stopped him from going into town and trying though. Yakko was pretty sure nothing could ever stop that kid from at least trying.

Still, it left Dot feeling awfully lonely. She missed her brother a lot, and was always happier when he came home. Hell, even he was happier when he was home. Goodness knows taking care of a sickly younger sister who would be running around and playing with her dolls one day and then unable to move for pain and coughing the next was damaging to one’s psyche. Wakko was a welcome relief and distraction for the both of them. 

“Whatcha thinking about Yakko?” Dot asked as she took a nibble from a piece of her stale bread. Yakko snapped out of his thoughts and noticed both of his siblings had been staring at him, probably for a while. 

“The usual,” Yakko shrugged and took a bite of his rabbit meat.

“Sorry,” Dot whispered. Yakko froze. 

“Dot, stop that. This isn’t your fault,” Yakko shot her a look. They had had this conversation roughly a million times, but no matter what he said it was never convincing enough. Dot didn’t argue this time, and just nodded her head. Yakko sighed, suddenly not hungry. He handed it to Dot. 

“Eat this too, you need your strength,” He said, standing up. 

“But Yakko-”

“No ‘buts’ Dot. Eat it.” He looked her in the eyes. “I’m going outside for a moment. When I come back in I expect all of it to be gone.”

Dot didn’t argue, thankfully. Satisfied, Yakko went outside of the small abandoned flower shop and sat down on a bench, feeling the cool air of the early mid-winter night. 

It had been two very long months since Dot had first gotten sick, and Yakko hadn’t stopped worrying since. After all, the last time he tried to relax Dot ended up sick. To say he felt guilty was a bit of an understatement. Every time she got worse, he basically spiraled into a ball of worry and never left her side, not even to take care of himself, something he also knew was bad, but he didn’t know how to stop.

Moments like these, where he was able to step outside and just... sit for a moment was nice. It was relaxing (if his mind didn’t wander and spiral, as it just had. If Yakko could have anything in the world, it would be an off switch for his brain). 

“Yakko..?” Wakko surprised his brother when he popped his head through the door. 

“Yes? Is everything okay?” Yakko said, glancing at the boarded-up window.

“Dot’s fine,” Wakko said, and Yakko relaxed again. “I just... need to talk to you.”

That part surprised Yakko. He gestured for his little brother to sit next to him, and he did. 

“Yakko, you know how there hasn’t been any work here for the last week?” Wakko said. Yakko bit his lip, how could he not? He nodded. 

“W-well, I heard rumors from the baker that a few towns over there were blacksmiths in need of apprentices and other jobs and I was thinking-”

“No.” Yakko shut him down. 

“Yakko, you didn’t let me finish,” Wakko frowned. 

“No. You aren’t leaving Acme Falls Wakko,” Yakko crossed his arms. 

“Why? I could earn more money out there than I can here,” He argued. 

“You’re barely nine years old. You can’t travel by yourself,” Yakko fought back. 

“Can too,” Wakko huffed. “You were eight when mum and dad died. You traveled alone.” 

“That is an entirely different situation Wakko and you know that,” Yakko shot him a look. 

Wakko didn’t back down, asking, “How?” 

Yakko thought hard about that. 

“Because Mom told me I had to. I’m not telling you you need to go, so you won’t,” Yakko said. 

“Yakko, stop being stubborn,” Wakko groaned and pulled at his ears. 

“You know we need the money.”

“The jobs won’t be easy- you know that, right? They’ll be borderline exploitative,” Yakko pointed out. Wakko rolled his eyes. 

“I know that, but if I go away for a year then you can really save on food and-”

“Hold up- a year???” Yakko stopped him again. Wakko looked away. 

“I-i mean... I’d try to come home earlier, but... a year most likely.”

“Wakko, we don’t know if Dot- if... if Dot has a year,” Yakko said, the words feeling like a stab in the chest to admit. Wakko’s ears lowered. 

“I know... I just- If I stay you’re gonna run out of money for Dot’s food a-and I can’t be the reason you end up not eating because money is tight,” Wakko couldn’t look at his older brother as he said that. Yakko paused, unable to speak. 

Sometimes he really hated how observant his little brother was.

“Wakko... you can’t...” Yakko tried to argue more, but something deep within himself told him that Wakko was right. 

“I’ll send any money I earn in the mail so you can keep buying Dot her medicines and stuff, maybe even get her new clothes and blankets,” Wakko explained. “I bet she’d really appreciate that.”

“She’d miss you a lot Wak...” Yakko said. Wakko sighed. 

“Yeah... I know. I really want to be here for her if something happens but I don’t know what other options are out there. I’ve thought about this a lot, it’s what I have to do,” He replied.  

“That’s evident,” Yakko ran his hands through his fur and sighed. 

“I guess... I guess you’re right, Wak,” Yakko admitted. 

“You mean you’ll let me go?” Wakko sat up. Yakko nodded and Wakko hugged him in a bone-crushing embrace. 

“Thank you thank you thank you Yakko! I won’t let you down!” Wakko smiled up at his brother. 

“Thanks for what? What’s going on?” 

The brothers froze when they saw their little sister standing in the doorway. 

“Dot- I-”

“Are you going away?” Dot asked, clutching her rag doll tightly. 

“Now Dot, Wakko and I were discussing it and-”

“You’re letting him?!” Dot’s eyes were now filled with tears. Yakko sucked in a breath, biting his words. 

“Dot-”

“No! You can’t go Wakko! I won’t let you!” Dot shouted at him. Neither brother moved. 

“Dot, we need the money-”

“I don’t care about the money Wakko! I care about you! You can’t leave me!” She pleaded with him. 

“Dot, maybe we should go back inside-” Yakko said, noticing the people around beginning to stare. 

“No!!! He can’t leave! I’ll die before he comes back!” Dot sobbed. 

“Dot- don’t say that!” Yakko scolded, trying to ignore the stares.

“NO!!! I won’t! If I die I’ll never speak to Wakko again! He can’t leave! He can’t he can’t he can’t!” She was uncontrollably sobbing now, and Wakko’s head was so low you could hardly see his eyes, but Yakko could see the tears streaming down his cheeks. 

With a determined breath, Yakko picked up his crying sister and brought her inside, Wakko followed close behind. 

“Put me down!!” She kicked and pounded her fists, but she was weak on account of her illness. Yakko set her down once Wakko closed the door. 

“Dot, I need you to calm down and let Wakko explain himself,” Yakko said. 

“Y-you’re sup-supposed to be on m-m-my side,” Dot sniffled and cried. Well, at least she was kind of calming down...

“Dot... Wakko and I just want what’s best for you. We need to be able to buy your medicine and food so you can stay strong and healthy, but right now it’s hard. There isn’t a lot of work in Acme Falls anymore and Wakko thinks there might be more opportunities outside,” Yakko explained calmly, not sure how much Dot could hear over her hiccupping and crying. 

“B-but I want Wakko to s-stay,” She said, a lot quieter this time. 

“I want to stay too Dot,” Wakko joined in. “But you need medicine and food, and for that we need money, and I can’t get the money we need here.”

Dot looked at the ground, trying to stop her crying.

“I might die and never see you again...” Dot gave in and cried again. Wakko didn’t hesitate and quickly hugged her. 

“I know... that’s what scares me...” He said. 

“So d-don’t go,” Dot looked up at him. 

Wakko sighed. “I can’t. I have to go. You’ll die a lot faster if I don’t.”

Yakko grimaced. Whether or not it was the truth, Yakko didn’t like to think about how soon Dot could easily... you know...

Dot sniffled and wiped away her tears. “I-i dunno...”

“Dot, please,” Wakko pleaded with her, before getting an idea. 

“I’ll write you letters whenever I can. We’ll keep in touch, it’ll be like I never left!” Wakko smiled, glancing at Yakko. He nodded in approval. 

Dot then glanced at Yakko. Yakko gave a similar look back, one that suggested “hey, I’m not the one in charge here, it’s whatever you wanna do”, if it translated correctly. 

“I-i’ll miss you a lot...” Dot kicked the floor. “B-but if you have to...”

Wakko smiled and hugged her again. “I knew you’d understand. You’re the best little sister ever!”

Dot smiled weakly. “I know.”

Yakko smiled too, glad she still had her sass despite everything. 

And so it was decided. Wakko was to leave the following week, spending as much time as possible with Dot- who was doing her best to try and act like she wasn’t feeling terrible and sick. But Dot never got past Yakko, and he made sure to give her more food than normal that week. 

Eventually, though, it was time for him to go, and it seemed the whole town showed up to say goodbye. At first, Yakko had been surprised at the turnout, but realized that Wakko had basically worked for all of them at one point or another. 

Yakko and Dot waited patiently for their brother to talk and say his goodbyes to everyone- even the mime, who Wakko (and most everyone else) hated. Once he was done however, the train had already pulled up, meaning their goodbyes were going to have to be quick. 

“I’m gonna miss you Wakko,” Dot said, giving him the best hug she could muster. Wakko hugged back. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, but don’t forget, I’ll write a letter as soon as I can,” He smiled. 

“You better,” Dot punched his arm. “Or else I’ll be mad.”

Wakko laughed. “Okay, okay. I got it. I’ll write, or else.”

Satisfied, Dot sat back down and it was now Yakko’s turn.

“So... you’re really going, huh?” Yakko scratched the back of his neck. 

“Yep,” Wakko said, bouncing on his heels. He knew it was getting close.

“Just-... don’t do anything stupid. And if anything happens, don’t be afraid to come home,” Yakko said. 

“I know, I know,” Wakko chuckled. They had had many conversations with that point sneaked into it several times in the past week. 

“I know you know, I’m just nervous. Mom always said to never split up,” Yakko sighed. 

“You’re a worry-wart Yakko. You need to relax, you’ll never be able to take care of Dot if you worry yourself sick,” Wakko pointed out. Yet again, Wakko flexed his amazingly strong observation skills. 

“I’ll try my best to keep that in mind,” Yakko said, and he meant it. 

“Just don’t forget to write- or else I’ll have to come find you and knock the senses back into you.” 

Wakko laughed. “I’ll write, I promise.”

Just then, the train’s whistle blew and the conductor made the last call. Wakko winced. 

“I’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise. I’ll send whatever money I can every two weeks,” Wakko said, before giving his brother a quick hug and dashing onto the train.  He then stuck his head through a window and while the train started to chug along, he waved goodbye to Acme Falls and headed off to hopefully greener pastures. 

Dot and Yakko stayed at the station waving goodbye, even after the others had left and the train was long gone. There was a void now where Wakko’s presence had once been and the two felt it strongly. 

Eventually, Dot began to cry and Yakko had to carry her back to the flower shop so she could get some rest and conserve her strength. 

He was going to have to do that a lot if they were both supposed to make it through the year. But they could do it, Dot was strong, and Yakko could make an effort not to stress himself to death. 

They were Warners. They were fighters, and none of them were going to be giving up for quite some time. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Ill and Alone- Prompt Fill

cw food mention, nausea mention, fever, anxiety, the concept of not feeling bad enough to merit comfort, depression, isolation

Hi!  I am still accepting bingo prompts!  The crossed out prompts are already written, the starred ones are ones that I have gotten, but not posted yet!  Let me know which character you want and if you prefer writing on a drawing! Bingo sheet by the wonderful @celosiaa​

Jon wakes up to Martin leaving before dawn.  Walks him to the door, hands him breakfast and a thermos of tea.  Goes back to bed, the sticky exhaustion nipping at his heals, at the back of his skull.  Inserted in the grit in the corner of his eyes.  

He wakes up to an empty bed, Martin’s side of the room looking sad and empty, usual trinkets of their cohabitation lacking.  No prescription on the nightstand, no glasses, no poetry book, no neatly folded outfit set out for the morning, closet looking empty.  

The room is bathed in the grey light of early morning.  Jon goes back to sleep.  

He wakes up properly at nine.  He makes tea, staring at the faded sticky note that Martin had written precisely how both he and Jon respectively take their tea.  Jon remembers by this point.  It’s been years since he Needed to look at the note, but he still looks at it because… well… it’s Martin’s writing.  Instructions written with care and precision, with a little heart and a smily face.  He doesn’t trace the writing, he isn’t that pathetic, and he doesn’t want the paper to disintegrate any faster than it already is… but he wants to.  

Martin will be back in a couple days.  He shouldn’t be this clingy…  But the flat already feels empty and cold.  Jon shivers, holding his tea close to his chest, and resisting the temptation to make a second cup for Martin.  

Jon teaches his classes.  He eats lunch in his office.  A sandwich that tastes like chalk and fills his mouth with cement.  He grades a few papers.  He teaches another class.  He rides the tube home.  He falls asleep on the couch.  He wakes up on the couch.  The flat cold around him, the cushions stiff and frozen against his slight and hurting frame.  Joints stiff against the chill.  

He thinks about making dinner, or even just reheating some leftovers, but he doesn't.  He texts Martin.  'Love you, hope the volunteer training is going well.'

He falls asleep.  Heavy and aching and so tired.  

He wakes up on the cold couch to a buzz from his phone.  'Going well, just finished up for the night.  Love you!'

It's dark now, but not late.  Daylight doesn't last long in the grey of winter in London.  Jon shivers.  He thinks again about dinner, and how Martin would want him to eat, but he just wants a warm shower and to go to bed.  

He considers his cane, but doesn't feel it worth the effort.  It is out of his way, and he would just like to get this over with.  

Jon hates sitting in the shower, but he hates baths more, and his hurting limbs won't keep him up any longer.  

Jon wakes up in a cold sweat.  Salt on his lips, saltwater on his lashes.  The flat is cold.  Cold like his dreams.  Panic on his breath as the Lonely dreams still hold him in their vice.  He wraps his arms around his chest.  He tries to rub his own back despite aching muscles, trying to make his own boney hands sooth him like Martin can.  He shakes and he cries silently.  

He checks his phone, the low brightness still stinging his eyes, and smears the numbers of the time beyond recognition, but he makes out no new messages.  

He pushes himself out of bed on aching legs, and shaking arms, pulling on one of Martin's sweaters and stopping by the loo.  

He makes tea.  And tries to take comfort because it is almost as good as when Martin makes it.  

Jon goes back to bed.  

It's morning and Jon's head hurts.  His head hurts and his arms hurt and his legs hurt and his back hurts.  

He almost pushes himself up to get ready for work, but he remembers it is Saturday.  

Jon rolls over to Martin's side of the bed.  Placing himself in the divot where Martin would be, if he were not out of town.  

Jon texts Martin.  'Morning, have a nice day, love you.'

Jon dozes.  

He should make breakfast.  But he isn't hungry, and he doesn't want to move.  Even if his small frame isn't holding heat, even under the thick covers of their bed.  He wants the weighted blanket.  He wants the heated blanket, but those live in the closet.  Those are for bad nights.  Mostly of the time He and Martin under the thick duvet is enough.  

But it isn't night and it isn't that bad, is it?  And even so, that is more effort that he thinks he can spare.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

He texts Martin.  

Meaningless texts with the mundanities that are beyond him.  Little messages about missing him, about making tea, about reading.  None of them lies, but cutting out the dragging exhaustion that has given way to a dragging fever.  

And Martin texts back.  

Jon bundled in the heated blanket and Martin's jumper on the couch.  Dosing off to the Archers.  He still hates that show, but it's easier to hate something for the content than admitting he feels too shitty to even enjoy the documentaries he has been saving for the weekend.  

He grades some.  Not much.  And he makes tea.  

He thinks again about the leftovers in the refrigerator, but he doesn't have the energy to eat them.  Lacks the appetite.  

Jon falls asleep on the couch.  Tea cooling on the coffee table.  Papers spread around him in uneven heaps.  

Jon texts Martin.  And Martin texts back.  

Only the buzz of the phone keeping him from sinking deeper into misery.    

Jon texts him whenever he is awake to do so, and Martin texts back during his breaks.  

Jon's head hurts.  He is shivering despite the heated blanket that is tight around him.  Woken from another nightmare by his own gasping breath.  The Stranger this time.  

He calls Tim.  

"Jon?  Everything okay?"

Still gasping from the phantom hands rubbing him down, fighting the nausea that comes with that particular brand of terror, of that trauma of his invaded personal space.  And the desperation that someone come and save him from his cold and empty flat and end this lonely weekend.  

"Jon, are you alright?  Where are you, do you need your inhaler?"  

Jon probably does, but he fights for breath for a minute and he's more or less okay.  

"I'm home.  It's fine, sorry for calling."  He feels foolish for being needy, and more foolish still because he's fighting back tears now.  Tears over nothing at all.  Just the fever.  Just the dreams.  Martin will be home tomorrow, and Jon will probably be feeling better by then, and if not, it's probably mostly exhaustion anyways.  He's been having a hard time getting restful sleep.  

"Hey, hey, hey Jon.  It's okay to call.  Are you alright?  Do you need someone to come over?"  Tim isn't angry.  It still surprises Jon that there is no bite to his voice.  No snipping, not sarcasm, not annoyance.  Just... warmth, caring.  

"Just a little under the weather.  I'm okay.  Sorry for bothering you... Had a dream... and just... Sorry it's foolish.  I'm alright."  Jon shivers, and hoping he doesn't sound too soggy over the phone.  He aches.  Stupid joints.  Stupid immune system.  Gives out the minute Martin leaves.  Which... good.  He guesses… at least Martin isn't losing sleep over him this time.  He hates that Martin doesn't sleep when caring for Jon.  He Hates it.  He hates stealing sleep for him, even if this is the mundane way of doing it, he still has cost Martin too much over the years.  

"I'm gonna come over, okay?  It's not a bother, it's not an inconvenience, I had been planning to give you a visit anyhow, I've been too busy to drop by in a while and I want to see you because you are my friend, and if I make you soup as well, hey we both get dinner out of it.  I promise I Want to.  Sasha still has work, so I don't have any company tonight anyhow.  No plans.  Nothing."

"Not been hungry."  That's all Jon has the energy to argue.  

"Feeling queasy, or just the usual fever nonsense?"  Tim asks.  He sounds too cheerful for this.  

"Nightmare queasy now, but mostly just... fever probably."

"Oof.  One of those nightmares?  Yikes.  Well, that kind usually passes in a bit, then we can make you some Spicy Stoker Sick-day Soup.  This Is to my benefit.  Sasha isn't a big fan, and Martin isn't either.  It's a good excuse to make some good comfort food."

Jon almost smiles.  "'kay."  

Tim must guess he's falling asleep again.  "Get some rest.  I'll be there soon with some soup stuff and meds.  Don't worry about letting me in, I have a key, remember?"

Jon falls asleep on the couch.  

He wakes up to tea being set in front of him.  

Jon groans and rubs at his eyes.  

"I know I've said it before, but that note in the kitchen is fucking adorable!  I mean... a little sad that it took you that long to learn how to make yourself tea, but still fucking precious that the note still has a place of honor.  Not to mention, it's good reference for when I want to make you the perfect comfort cup of tea!"  Tim smiles at him.  

And it isn't the same as with Martin, but it still warms him up.  At least a little.  

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?"

Jon tiredly rock his hand in a so-so motion.  

"Mind if I take your temperature before you drink that tea?"

Jon turns his attention inward to see if what remains of the Eye wants to be helpful today.  "38.6."

"That... I can't tell if that is handy or inconvenient.  In any case, not bad but not great.  You okay if I start the soup?  You can either get some more rest of join me in the kitchen and we can watch some Buzzfeed on my laptop?"

Jon nods.  He gathers his blanket and his tea, and limps to the kitchen.  

Tim sucks in his breath at Jon's clearly stiff movements, and rushes to plug the blanket back in before Jon can move to do so.  

"You.  Are not gonna help, okay?  You can help by drinking your tea, and some water and then getting back to the couch and using me as a pillow and eating a little something."

Jon opens his mouth to argue, but sees the steel in Tim's glare.  Nothing unkind, but still solid resistance.  He nods.  

Jon falls asleep on Tim.  On the couch.  Empty bowls stacked next to Tim's laptop, cord plugged in next to Jon's blanket.  

Tim stays the next afternoon until Martin gets home.  Marin scolding Jon for not telling him he was ill.  Martin thanking Tim for coming.  Martin wrinkling his nose at the soup.  

Martin's prescription and glasses, and clothes and book back in their proper places.  Martin in Martin's divot in the mattress, Jon smooshed against Martin, still a shade too warm, but much better than earlier.  

Jon falls asleep in Martin's arms.  

[blossom-hwa]

Light the Pyres |Rise| - SUNGYOON

Sungyoon + mc finally start getting their shit together I'm gonna scream

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, implied death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 4.6k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Previous: Light >> Rise >> Next: Burn

Golden Child Masterlist

Walking with Sungyoon is slow.

It isn’t like you expected anything more, considering the injured leg and all. Still, as you start off down the highway, you can’t help but feel like he was walking faster yesterday when you two came back to find his family.

Maybe it was adrenaline. Worry. Fear for loved ones can give you a lot of strength.

Or maybe it’s just your imagination.

You try not to show it. You’re the one who offered to let Sungyoon come, after all. He even raised the issue of his leg before agreeing. But impatience rears its ugly little head every time Sungyoon falls behind, forcing you to slow your steps down never-ending streets and highways until he ultimately needs a break and you sit in what miniscule shade you can find.

If it wasn’t so silent, you might be able to stomach the walk better. Maybe if you and Sungyoon were on good enough terms to have a conversation, walking wouldn’t feel so endless and slow. But after you gave each other your names that night in the house, there hasn’t been much conversation other than “break?” and “let’s go.”

Daeyeol was quiet, but in a comfortable way, in a way you’d known for two decades. Sungyoon has a reserved quietude about him. Definitely not comfortable.

Though given the circumstances under which you met, that isn’t surprising.

Which is why you don’t expect Sungyoon to bring up the issue and not you. You always figured at some point you’d explode from keeping quiet too much and say things you couldn’t take back, but one week after you leave, Sungyoon opens his mouth and starts talking instead of eating the granola bar you put in his hand.

“Are you tired of walking with me?”

You blink once. Twice. You still have the presence of mind to be thankful you just took a mouthful of granola bar and have to chew and swallow before you say a thing.

“No,” you reply, lying through bits of granola stuck in your teeth.

Sungyoon raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Really.”

Indignation rises in your chest. “Well, what do you want me to say?” you snap. “Why are you even asking? What does it matter?”

He looks down. Shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, voice smaller and suddenly very tired. “I would’ve gotten tired in your position. I’m sorry.”

That just ups the guilt you feel for having those stupid thoughts. “Why are you sorry?” you say harshly, trying to disguise the emotion threatening to spill out of your mouth. “Last time I checked, doing whatever you did to your leg wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t land properly.”

“I was the one who told you to jump.” You grimace at the memory. “So unless you had practice in jumping off fucking buses before this all happened, I don’t see how that’s supposed to change the fact that you couldn’t control your jump from a bus taller than you.”

“I’m still slowing you down,” Sungyoon argues.

“What is this, a competition of who’s done worse?” You scoff. “In that case, if you didn’t remember, I forced you to choose between leaving your family or me killing them.”

Your words are acerbic. Grating. They burn guilty on your lips and tongue and you’re surprised Sungyoon doesn’t do anything more than swallow and look away, teeth worrying his lips. “They were already dead.”

Bitterness. Resentment. Not a lot, but just enough to tinge his words with a sickly venom that eats into your skin, filling your throat with bile. He doesn’t believe that, not yet, which you can’t even blame because you’re still trying to convince yourself it isn’t his fault that Daeyeol is dead.

Oh, God. Daeyeol.

Two bites of granola bar churn in your stomach. “I killed them anyway,” you manage, trying not to hurl.

“But I got Daeyeol killed.” Sungyoon turns, his eyes burning into yours.

Your fingers crush the remains of the granola bar still in your hand. Bits fall onto the ground, but you’re too busy focusing on a point in the distance to care, avoiding Sungyoon’s gaze for fear that you’ll launch yourself at him, claw his eyes out, throw him against the tree he’s sitting under –

Oh.

You stop throttling the granola bar.

This must be how he feels about you, too.

“Don’t tell me you don’t believe it.” Sungyoon’s voice, oblivious to your whirlwind of thoughts, is soft, bitter, but understanding. “Remember? The only reason I’m still here is because I’m living on his time.”

Bile stings in your throat, but you force yourself to lock eyes with him once more. “Yeah,” you croak. “Yeah. I do kind of believe it. But you also believe I killed your sister and her boyfriend, even if you keep saying they were already dead before I did it.”

His jaw tightens. Gaze shifts. But Sungyoon doesn’t argue.

You sigh. “I know the facts and I know it isn’t your fault, Sungyoon.” His name sounds weird on your tongue, but you push away the strange feeling and continue. “My brain just doesn’t want to believe it. Yet.” You swallow, hard. These next words better convey sincerity. “I don’t mean to act like your life only matters because Daeyeol sacrificed himself for us. It doesn’t. I do want you to stay alive if only for you to keep living. It’s just…” Another sigh. “I’m sorry.”

The truth doesn’t fall too flat, at least.

“Mine doesn’t either.” Sungyoon doesn’t raise his head, but one hand goes up to rub his downcast eyes. You fight the urge to tell him not to, that the dirt from his skin might cause an infection. “I would’ve had to kill them, one way or another. You just did it for me. Inevitable.” He looks up. “I shouldn’t blame you. I’m trying not to. Maybe I shouldn’t even have brought it up, I just didn’t want this to keep… festering.” He winces. “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies.” You wrap up the remains of your granola bar, too drained to contemplate another bite even though you probably need it. “No more guilt. I think we’ve both done enough shit to each other to cancel most of it out.” And it feels weird. “Also, just because I’m impatient about you walking slowly doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you behind. I asked you to come. I’m not an absolute shithead. When you walk it off, you’ll be fine. Maybe we can find some bikes or something in the next city. I don’t know.”

Sungyoon blinks, then nods. Silence falls, a little less tension-filled than before. Then –

“I used to run track.”

You blink, trying to register his five word statement. It feels so out of place, but then you remember you were talking about going faster. “Were you any good?”

A brief glint of pride flashes in Sungyoon’s eyes. “One of the best.”

“Well, track boy, I guess we’ll have to wait until a horde finds us to verify that statement.” Your lips almost curve, and you feel a small bit of satisfaction as Sungyoon’s mouth twitches similarly. Morbid humor. Maybe that’s something you, him and Daeyeol have in common. “Go to sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

He sleeps, then, more quietly than you’ve ever seen him. And as his breaths begin to even, there’s a hint of the peace you used to feel when it was just you and Daeyeol instead.

It lets you pretend that things aren’t really as bad as they seem.

. . . . .

And things aren’t too bad, at least not for a while. Limping along, you and Sungyoon make it through a second week and then a third without ripping out each other’s throats. There are still infuriating flashes of fury and anger when Sungyoon does or says something that reminds you a little too much of Daeyeol, and sometimes you catch him glancing over with lips pressed together, eyes torn in grief. But it lessens. A little. Two weeks after that initial conversation, you find Sungyoon almost pleasant company. On some days, you even consider taking out the almost.

Until the horde attacks.

You and Sungyoon manage to run fast, to lose most of the zombies in a maze of abandoned buildings in a dusty city. The last few you shoot dead. When that’s over, you both breathe a sigh of relief.

Then Sungyoon faints, of all things, and when you finally drag him into one of the empty houses nearby and get him to come to, he can’t put weight on his leg without collapsing on the floor. The skin is tight, the limb swollen. Running that fast on whatever injury he had made it much worse.

Fuck.

Your hands aren’t those of a doctor, not even those of a biology major. All you can do is manipulate machines, not blood flow or heartbeats. Yours is dangerously high as you step close enough to touch his leg with trembling fingers, feeling the swelling flesh beneath your skin.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Sungyoon says when you remain silent, dropping your hands from his prone body. His voice is weak with pain but strong in anger, though whether it’s anger at you or something else you aren’t sure. “Maybe a bigger fracture.”

“How do you know?”

“Got a few injuries running track.”

You swallow. “How… how long?”

“Probably a few weeks.” He looks down.

Weeks. Several weeks. It took around two months for you and Daeyeol to make it two thirds across the country, and part of the way you were driving. On Sungyoon’s leg, you’ve only gone a third of the remaining third, if you’re being generous. Probably more like a quarter.

Three quarters of a third left. You may not have been in a math class in months, but you can still calculate that you have a quarter of the whole way to go.

A quarter. A whole damn quarter. Two or three weeks would cut that down at least by a third. A half if you moved fast enough. But now you’re stuck here for that amount of time, waiting for Sungyoon’s leg to heal.

He doesn’t say anything when you walk out of the room, doesn’t call you back when you disappear into the hall and close the door and put your head against the wall and scream, silent, as pressure builds behind your eyes to signal tears you won’t let fall.

Sungyoon definitely hears when you kick the wall. He also definitely hears your muffled grunt of pain, judging by the look he gives your foot when you walk back into the room, trying to keep the emotions off your face.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, putting your bag down with as little force as you can in the corner. “Need anything?”

He shakes his head. Swallows around what looks like a dry throat. You raise a disbelieving eyebrow and take a half empty bottle of water out of the bag, tossing it over. He catches it easily. “Don’t lie to me,” you say, successfully keeping a bite out of your tone. “If you’re thirsty, you’re thirsty. No sense in hiding it.”

Behind the bottle, Sungyoon nods. The plastic crinkles slightly in the silence as you turn back to the bag, staring at the dwindling mess left inside. Some more granola bars, two full bottles of water, a few empty bottles, clothes and a couple sheets. Sungyoon’s pack probably doesn’t have much more.

You sigh. One of you is going to have to go out and hunt for supplies and with Sungyoon’s fractured leg, it’s clear which one has to go.

There are zombies lurking everywhere. The bullets in your gun are the only ones you have left. You need ammunition, food, and water, and you have no idea where to find it.

Great.

The sun is still in the sky when you look out the window. There are three, maybe four hours left before sundown, which gives you a little time to at least scope out the neighborhood you’ve ended up in. “I’m going out,” you say, standing up. “If I’m not back in three hours, assume I’m fucked. Stay here.”

“And if you are fucked?”

The way Sungyoon says it simultaneously makes want to smile but also want to punch him in the face. Humor. It always seems to come back when you’re at your lowest points. “Then you’re fucked,” you say as flippantly as possible. “At least you have one water bottle and a granola bar to see you through a day or two.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say you hear Sungyoon snort as you leave the room. Though it was probably just the creaking door.

. . . . .

According to your watch, you come back two hours later with several bottles of water, a scraped leg, and two less bullets in your gun. “No food or ammunition, though there’s a cafeteria where I found some water,” you announce, wincing as you sit on the floor. “And zombies are still everywhere.”

“How do you think they find us?” Sungyoon asks, disconcertedly looking at the blood you’ve started dabbing off your leg. “And how did you get that?”

You pause, a strip of sheet pressed to your skin. “I… don’t know,” you admit. “I feel like they probably can’t see very well given their weird eyes and the fact that they still bump into buildings when trying to get at us. Hearing or smell?” You shrug, pouring a tiny bit of water onto the sheet. “And I got this running away from a group. Lucky they don’t move too fast or I wouldn’t have gotten back.”

“How many bullets left?”

“Ten.”

Sungyoon sucks in a breath.

“Yeah.” You glare at your gun, as though staring will somehow bring the two bullets back. “Might need to find some other sort of weapon.”

And transport. Like a bike or a car that miraculously still has enough fuel for you to hotwire. Though that’s secondary, considering you’re stuck here until further notice.

Silence falls as you finish cleaning your wound, wrapping it behind a strip of sheet with a sigh. “Hungry?”

He doesn’t answer. You frown. “Sungyoon?”

“You could go on. Alone.”

Your lips thin. Plastic crinkles in your grip. Just in time, you drop the water bottle in your hand before it explodes over the ground. “Hungry?” you ask again, voice choking.

Sungyoon doesn’t answer.

“Okay.” It takes all of your effort not to scream or shout or shake as you place a granola bar on the floor within his reach, along with a new bottle of water to replace the empty one sitting by his feet. “I’m going to take a nap. Say something if you need anything.”

He doesn’t say anything as you curl up on the floor, resting your head on your backpack. He doesn’t say anything as you turn around to face the wall.

He doesn’t say anything as you drift into an uneasy sleep.

. . . . .

Sungyoon doesn’t have a gun. Sungyoon doesn’t have a gun or bullets and the only other weapon you have is the blunt knife hidden in your backpack and you are thankful for this, because the next few days are unnerving.

He’s silent. Barely moves, never talks. He only ever eats when you threaten to shove food down his throat and doesn’t even half-smile the way he used to when you crack a sarcastic or morbid joke.

His words don’t leave you, either. You could go on. Alone.

It isn’t as though the thought hasn’t come to mind, you’ll admit, but every time it does, you brush it away. While you might have actually considered it when you first met, Sungyoon has grown on you (even in his silence) that you don’t feel comfortable with the idea of leaving him behind, even if he’s the one who brings it up.

You saw the loneliness and fear in his eyes that day you buried the bodies. You heard the emptiness in his voice when he said he didn’t have anywhere to go. You offered to let him come. You held out that offer even when he reminded you about his leg. Even a few weeks ago, when you were still restraining yourself from ripping out his throat every time he did something that reminded you too much of Daeyeol, you wouldn’t have rescinded your offer and left him alone unless he’d done something absolutely unforgivable. Which he never did.

So you won’t consider it. Even if it means taking longer to get to your mom. Beyond the fact that it just isn’t right, what would she say if she knew you abandoned someone you offered to take along?

But Sungyoon only ever speaks to bring it up, and every time, you pretend he never said anything. If you actually respond, you’re pretty sure it’ll deteriorate into either a yelling match or one of you just leaving the room. And considering Sungyoon can’t move, the one who leaves will be you.

The mental energy required for this conversation is too much for you to deal with right now.

But then you come back from a trip outside, limping on a re-bloodied leg and clutching a sheet to your bleeding arm an hour later than you told Sungyoon you’d be back. It’s dark when you enter the room, but the faint moonlight is just bright enough for you to see that the bed is empty and that the lump of Sungyoon is now on the floor.

The sheet drops from your hand.

“Sungyoon!”

A cracked cough sounds from the ground and you rush forward, ignoring the pain in your own limbs to lift him back up onto the bed. “What happened?” you ask, squinting into the darkness at where you think his leg is. “Did you make your leg worse?”

“You were late,” Sungyoon wheezes.

Frustration rises in your chest when he doesn’t answer the question, but you only nod tersely. “I had to hide for a while,” you say, trying to check his leg in the dark. “I’m sorry. But what were you doing?”

He still doesn’t answer. “Are you bleeding?”

“Sungyoon!” you snap, straightening. Your drop your bleeding arm and put weight on your injured leg, ignoring the resulting pain. “Answer me!”

“Why don’t you just leave?” Sungyoon half yells, burying his face in his hands. “Why are you injuring yourself because of me? I’m a nobody, I got your literal best friend killed, and now I’m preventing you from finding your mom –”

“SHUT UP!”

Sungyoon snaps his mouth shut. Swallowing hard, you do too, waiting for deadened groans to surround the house. Stupid, stupid, why did you yell? Keep your goddamn temper, will you?

One minute. Two. Five.

You finally let yourself breathe. “Are you done?” you snarl in a hushed whisper. “Are you fucking done?”

“Not until you either leave me here or give me a reasonable explanation as to why you still keep me around!”

“Do you think I’m heartless?” Your bag lands on the ground with a thud and you sit heavily beside it, giving in to the stinging of scrapes on your skin. “Do you seriously still think –”

“No, I think you’re stupid,” Sungyoon snaps.  

“Stupid for what? Keeping you around when I’m the one who asked if you wanted to come along?” you retort. “It’s called basic human decency, Sungyoon!”

“And leaving me behind would be called the basic right decision for you!”

You scoff. “The right decision? Trading a human life for a week or two of time is the right decision?”

“You want to go and find your mom!” Sungyoon yells. “I’m only keeping you behind! We don’t even know each other – what even makes sense here?”

Everything in you wants to scream again that it’s not right, it’s not fucking right until you get it through Sungyoon’s thick skull, but just enough sense remains in your brain to force you to shut up and think.

Think. Why is he so set on this? And why are you so set on the opposite?

Guilt. He feels guilty that he’s keeping you behind. Which – understandable, if you calm down enough to think about it.

But how would you feel if you left him behind?

Unpleasant emotion rises in your chest. Guilt, horror, even pain at the thought of leaving Sungyoon. It’s alien – you’ve only felt this way about Daeyeol before he died, and certainly not around the few other travelers you met for brief moments on the way home, but somewhere along the way, Sungyoon has become a semblance of a companion.

A lump fills your throat. You think you know how Daeyeol felt, now, every time he heard or saw someone in need.

“You feel guilty,” you say slowly, leaning back against the wall. “Which I get. I think.”

“How –”

“Let me talk,” you interrupt, glaring. He probably can’t see it very clearly in the dark, but at least he shuts up. “You feel guilty for keeping me behind. Which I get, because a month ago I would barely have had second thoughts about moving on without you.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “As you should.”

“Will you quit it?” you snap. “If you feel guilty, think about how I would feel if I left you behind! You think I wouldn’t feel guilty? Instead of wallowing in your fucking guilt, try and think of me!”

And miraculously, Sungyoon falls silent.

“If you were in my position,” you continue, more softly, “what do you think you’d feel? If I asked you to leave me behind? Maybe I wouldn’t grudge you for it, but would you grudge yourself?”

Sungyoon remains quiet.

“It’s humanity,” you say, staring up at the ceiling. Daeyeol, I understand now. “It’s part of being human. I couldn’t leave you behind, not at this point when you can still be helped.” You swallow, tears pricking at your eyes. “I’m not selfish enough to do otherwise.”

And as the silence continues, stretching as light fades in the window, you relax against the wall even with blood still trickling down your skin and onto the forgotten sheet. The last of your frustration sloughs away, the bitterness of blame and guilt gone from your throat.

Because you understand. You understand why Daeyeol tried to save everyone he could. You understand why he would risk his life to save a boy whose name he didn’t even know. You understand the guilt he would’ve felt if he didn’t try, didn’t lift a single finger to help, even if it meant possibly losing his life in the process.

You aren’t at that level. You may never be. You probably never will reach Daeyeol’s heights of selflessness, the quality you always admired him for. But you can understand this much.

It isn’t Sungyoon’s fault. It never was. As much as your brain wanted to believe it, it was no one’s fault – not Daeyeol’s for being selfless, not yours for failing to notice the zombie, not Sungyoon’s for being in trouble and needing help.

Not his fault. Not his fault. Not his fault. With every repetition, the three words grow clearer in your mind, a clear truth rather than a blurry mess you have to force yourself to decipher through gritted teeth every time they play in your head. It isn’t his fault.

It never was.

You blink a few tears away from your eyes, lowering your head to stare at Sungyoon’s dark body on the bed. “Let me see your leg,” you say softly, tongue free of the taste of blame. “You probably hurt it, falling off the bed.”

Sungyoon doesn’t protest, just lets you make your way over to the bed. Pale moonlight guides your hands as they skim over the swollen flesh. “It doesn’t hurt more,” he says, voice small.

“Doesn’t seem that much worse than yesterday,” you agree, pulling back. “You’re lucky. I didn’t run track, but I’m pretty sure falling isn’t supposed to do wonders for a fracture.” You frown. “What were you even doing when I got back, anyway?”

“You were late,” Sungyoon says. “By over an hour. I tried to see if I could find you.”

Something in your heart cracks at the tinge of fear in his words. He hides it well, but you can still detect the terror that frays his voice. It was in yours every time Daeyeol came back so much as a minute later than he told you, and in his every time you returned with a single scrape or cut on your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again, sitting on the floor. Your back presses against the bed. If you looked up, you could probably meet Sungyoon’s eyes, but exhaustion weighs your head and limbs. “I got chased by a few zombies and had to barricade myself in a building before they finally left. When I decided it was safe to go, they apparently hadn’t left, and I fell a few times trying to escape.”

Sungyoon sucks in a breath. “Didn’t you have your gun?”

“Too close quarters.” You shudder at the memory. “I didn’t have enough space to pull it out. Easier to just outrun them.”

Silence falls as you try to shake off the feeling of cold, dead hands trying to grab at your arm. Then Sungyoon sighs. “I’m sorry for pressing you,” he whispers, so soft you almost don’t hear him. “I just don’t like being useless. Or when I’m holding people back.”

You purse your lips. You can commiserate. But how do you make Sungyoon understand that he isn’t useless, even if his leg is costing you time?

“Think about it like this,” you finally say. “If it wasn’t for you, I might’ve gone insane by now. Might not even be alive. I don’t do well when I’m completely alone in my thoughts, especially not when I’m stressed.”

“Extroverted?”

“Not exactly.” You sigh. “Just… I sometimes spiral. And if I don’t have someone nearby me in those moments, I don’t make the best decisions.”

“… We never exactly talked much.”

“Just a presence helps,” you clarify. “Knowing someone’s there is enough. And…” Might as well be out with it. “I was scared of being alone. Terrified. Still am.” You swallow. “Even if it’s silent company, it means a lot to me.”

Sungyoon remains silent for a moment. You almost think you’ve said too much before he speaks. “Me too,” he mumbles. “I was scared, too. Of being alone.”

A pang of guilt resonates in your chest. “I’m sorry –”

“No apologies, right?” Sungyoon breaks in, reminding you of the conversation from just weeks ago. “It’s not your fault. I know that now.”

He does. A sharp certainty edges his words, still inlaid with sadness but free of bitter blame and anger. He has finally reconciled your actions with reality, the same way you’ve reconciled him and Daeyeol, too. And even if you still feel the weight of two murders on your hands, the knowledge that he doesn’t blame you anymore lifts your heart, just slightly.

“I guess I was afraid you would leave on your own terms, once you realized how much I was holding you back,” Sungyoon mumbles. “So I tried to make you go first. I thought if I was the one who made you leave…”

“Well, you can’t get rid of me now.” You lift your head to give him a lopsided smile. “I’m still here, Sungyoon. Doesn’t matter how bad your leg is, I’ll be with you until it heals and then some. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sungyoon breathes. Then – “Thank you for staying. And forgiving me.”

A small, genuine smile replaces the lopsided expression you wore before. “Thank you for forgiving me too.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for enduring forgiveness :))

[xbaepsae]

the ebb and flow | part seven

“The son of Poseidon stares at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before. It seems to burn hotter across your skin than the fire is right now.”

[demigod!jeongguk x demigod!reader]

genre: percy jackson!au, mythology!au, demigod!au, enemies to lovers!au

word count: 1.7k

rating: pg-13

warnings: language, the usual character tension

a/n: merry belated christmas (to those who celebrate)! and happy (almost) new years! stay safe and healthy everyone. hope 2021 is a better one for all of us. xoxo

→ series masterlist!

the fifth summer – in which you fall (quite literally)

At the end of your first week of cleaning the stables with Jeongguk, you manage another capture the flag win. Nothing brought you more joy than seeing the look of absolute anguish on Park Jimin’s face when you ripped his red flag from right between his hands.

“Better luck next week, Park,” you teased as your cabin raised you up on their shoulders. “Guess we all can’t be winners.”

Your cabin celebrated with its allies at the campfire that night—singing and dancing to your heart's delight. Normally, you’re not one to dance much; the act is entirely too embarrassing to do in front of so many people. However, maybe it’s the stress from the week or the high from the win, but you feel the need to shake all your worries away.

And dancing proves to be a great stress reliever.

To the beat of drums and lyre playing, you sway your body beside your friends. Haru takes your hands in her own and spins you around, to which you can’t help but laugh. The two of you must look ridiculous right now. She spins you around in another 360 and you close your eyes, taking in the heat from the fire. When you open your eyes, you meet the cool gaze of someone you didn’t expect to still be here.

Across the campfire, Jeon Jeongguk stands by himself. You didn’t expect him to be here because his cabin was on the losing team. You thought that maybe he would be sulking in his cabin like Jimin probably is right now. Instead, his eyes seem glued to you. The son of Poseidon stares at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before. It seems to burn hotter across your skin than the fire is right now.

Even though he is yards away, you feel incredibly exposed at this moment. His round eyes are illuminated by the fire, and they seem to pierce you like he can see right into your soul or something. After another second, you force yourself to look away—the tension is just too much to take right now.

“Are you okay?” Haru’s voice breaks your thoughts.

Looking up, you notice concern clouding her eyes; however, there is also a gleam of interest there—probably wondering what made you stop dancing.

“I’m fine,” you tell her. “Just dizzy, I guess.”

Haru doesn’t seem to buy it, but she doesn’t pester you about it again. “Well, too bad—I want to keep dancing with my best friend!”

The next morning, you make your way towards the stables feeling more exhausted than usual; body still slightly aching from last night’s festivities. When you arrive, Jeongguk is already there leaning against the gated entrance. Probably hearing your footsteps draw closer, he looks up; however, you don’t meet his gaze. Instead, you pretend the rising sun has captured your attention.

Fishing the key out of your back pocket, you unlock the gates and greet the Pegasi already vying for your attention. And much like the other days, you both work in silence again; you even go out of your way to avoid passing by him or having to make small talk. During your other hours here, the silence was at least kind of bearable. However, today, for some reason, something feels different and you don’t like it one bit.

As the hours pass by, the silence seems to eat you alive. It’s all that you can hear. Or maybe it’s just your heart racing and blood rushing past your ears. Whatever it is, you’re about to reach your breaking point.

“Are you joining your cabin later?”

You nearly drop your broom at the sound of Jeongguk’s voice echoing through the thick silence. Styx, he scared you. “What’s happening later?”

Even though he’s on the other side of the stables, you can feel him take a step closer. “You know, the canoe races. The one that’s always held during the summer around this time.”

In all honesty, you’d forgotten all about the canoe races. And this isn’t like the recreational, free time canoeing you can do. No—this race is one that all the cabins participate in. It’s just as intense and competitive as it sounds. You’ve never participated before, so it must’ve slipped your mind. But unlike you, Jeongguk has always participated—you know, being the son of the sea god and everything.

“I usually don’t, so probably not,” you say.

“It’s your last summer, right?” he suddenly asks.

You turn around at the question. “Why, yes. As a matter of fact, it is. I’m planning to attend college in New Rome.”

Which means, you don’t know when you’ll ever be back at Camp Half-Blood since New Rome is equally as safe for demigods. The thought makes you feel bittersweet since Long Island is your home. You’d always thought you’d be here, probably continuing to offer your services to the camp. However, there’s an opportunity to expand your life on the other side of the country; you’d be foolish not to go.

“So, you should participate then,” Jeongguk breaks your thoughts.

“I think we already settled on who would participate. Besides, there’s always more cabin canoe races throughout summer,” you add as a rebuttal. “Maybe then.”

“What a shame,” he hums. “I really wanted to beat you this time around.”

Jeongguk’s mention of obtaining a win begins to turn the gears of your rivalry in your head. You should’ve known he would do something like this; the son of Poseidon just loves to egg you on. And sadly, you always seem to give in.

“We’ll see about that.”

***

“I’m going to participate in the canoe race.”

Namjoon looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “What? I thought we already decided on who would participate.”

“I know, but I want to do it. You know, I’ve never participated before,” you tell him. “I should try this year.”

“You’ve never participated because you—”

You cut him off. “I have to beat Jeon Jeongguk at his own game. I will not settle for anything less.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “You and that damn rivalry. I know you hate the guy, but I don’t think this is worth it.”

“Jeon is a thorn at my side; beating him during the canoe race is my chance to gain some leverage on him,” you say, ignoring what your half-brother just said.

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Just don’t say I didn’t try to talk you out of it.”

***

The breeze from the Long Island Sound whips your hair. You put it in a braid earlier to keep it at bay, but your baby hairs don’t seem like they want to cooperate today.

“I’m so excited, y/n,” Harrison, a second-year in your cabin, practically vibrates with serotonin beside you. “Thanks for allowing me to join.”

“Of course,” you offer him a smile. At least, you hope it’s a smile.

A part of you wishes that you listened to what Namjoon said earlier. Because at the end of the day, he’s one of the few people that know you well and maybe he’s right; maybe trying to beat Jeongguk today isn’t worth it.

“Are you okay?” Haru is suddenly in front of you. “Namjoon told me to come and talk to you, and try to talk you out of this because—”

“I’m fine, Haru,” you lie through your teeth, forcing a smile. “I’ll be okay.”

Your best friend raises a brow at you. “You know, I’ve gotten pretty good and figuring when you’re lying to me. I know you always feel this intense need to beat Jeongguk at everything…though, I do wonder now if you’re starting to feel something else towards him…”

“Haru,” you warn.

She laughs a little. “Only joking.”

“I promise, I’m okay; don’t worry about me. This race will be quick anyway.”

“Whatever you say, y/n.”

Once everyone else arrives and the canoes are pushed into the water, you settle behind four others from your cabin. Harrison is seated in front of you, that beaming smile still stretched across his lips. “This is so exciting.”

The gentle rocking of the canoe does nothing to ease your nerves. If anything, it actually makes you feel sicker than you already are. “Let’s win this, for Athena!”

For Athena, your half-siblings mimic as they reach for their oars. Next to your canoe is none other than Poseidon’s cabin—whoever’s idea that was is definitely going to get a mouthful from you later—which means you-know-who is already staring at you.

“See you from the other side of the finish line,” Jeongguk taunts with a smirk. You try to return the same attitude tenfold.

“Don’t even think about any of your dirty tricks, Jeon.”

He scoffs. “Poseidon always plays fair.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes. “We’re in a huge body of water—nothing could possibly go in your favor.”

You don’t know if he catches your sarcasm, and you don’t have time to. Because before you can even think about it, the race begins at the blow of a whistle.

Sure enough, like you already predicted, Poseidon’s cabin gets the immediate lead. But you don’t let it faze you; this actually motivates you to work harder—commanding your cabin to row faster.

However, what you fail to realize is that what originally seemed like a beautiful day on the lake is suddenly shifting in the blink of an eye. Because you’re all concentrated on reaching the finish line, you don’t see the sudden storm clouds looming in on the horizon. The wind picks up and water begins to rise, rocking the canoes dangerously.

You grab onto the sides of the canoe for support, but it’s no match against the current. The gods must be angry. And when a wave crashes against the canoe, you lose your balance and plummet headfirst into the water.

Through the muffled sound of water rippling past your ears, you can hear echoed screams. But they seem terribly far away as you struggle to break the surface. Your hands grasp for air, but the tows of the current feel like a weight on your ankles as you begin to sink deeper into the water.

Worst of all, you can’t swim.

[knox-knocks]

a hunger inside

an among us au >:) tw: death and violence (no foxes die, only ocs)

read it on ao3

Andrew finds him in the hallway, attempting an escape through the vent in the floor. Andrew’s eyes flick to the corner of the room where the camera is, but it is dark and lifeless, no blinking red light to indicate that someone is watching. Of course, that is why Andrew chose to linger in this part of the ship, after all. No one is ever watching these cameras, so he is free to smoke his cigarettes in peace.

“The vents, huh?” he says and leans against the cool metal wall of the ship and lights the cigarette. He’s almost out. As soon as his job here is done, he’ll have to stop by the closest pit stop for another pack.

Orange jumps at the sound of Andrew’s voice, twisting around in the tiny space the vents allow. It’s not much bigger than him, and he has to wiggle through in order to get out. Andrew watches him, cigarette forgotten between his fingertips, and takes note of the dark red staining his orange space suit, seeping into the fabric.

Andrew tips his head and behind Orange he can see two feet sticking out from the darkness, dripping the same red liquid that’s currently splashed all over him. Andrew is no idiot, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that the liquid is blood and the legs belong to a dead man.

“Faster way to get around,” Orange – Josten, he remembers – says after a tense pause. Andrew can’t see his expression past the dark screen of his visor, instead his own unimpressed face is reflected back at him, distorted in the curve of the helmet.

Andrew has never seen the man underneath the orange suit. He’s been aboard the Space Enterprise for a couple months now and hasn’t so much as taken off his helmet. Which wasn’t a cause for alarm – not at first – because technically it was a rule that you had to be wearing your space suit at all times in case of emergencies, though no one actually did. Except for Josten.

What struck Andrew as strange was that Josten didn’t take it off even to eat. In fact, Andrew has never seen him eat with the others in the cafeteria, not once, in the months since he’s joined the crew.

“I suppose you’re the one the others are worrying about, then,” Andrew says and takes a drag off his cig before it dies. “The imposter.”

“You’re not supposed to smoke in here,” Josten says, neatly dodging the question. His voice is staticky over the mic, more artificial than human.

Andrew looks past at the victim half-eaten by the darkness. Josten subtly shifts his weight, an unsubtle attempt to hide the body, but the damage is done and Andrew has already seen it.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Andrew says. He stares at where he thinks Josten’s eyes should be, and meets his own even expression instead.

Josten doesn’t move so Andrew sighs and pushes up from where he’s leaning against the wall. Josten’s back straightens, and he makes an abortive move, as if reaching for a weapon. Said weapon must still be stuck in whatever poor sap whose blood saturated the floor, because Josten’s hands remain empty, and Andrew unstabbed.

“Go get cleaned up,” Andrew says and stubs out his cigarette against his fatigues. The ashes smear against the black fabric, near invisible. “I’ll cover for you.”

“Why?” Josten says in that robotic voice of his.

“Because now you owe me one,” says Andrew.

“I thought we were even.” Josten mimes a movement reminiscent of raising a cigarette to his mouth, a clumsy mimicry in his bulky suit. “‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’”

“Yes,” Andrew says. “But now I’m covering for you as well. So you owe me.”

It is eerie, the way Andrew can’t see his face to read his reactions, and wonders if this is how his crewmates feel about him. Andrew, always so tightlipped and apathetic, even when the crew started getting picked off one by one. He didn’t join up too much longer after the others, but he’d picked up on their unease almost immediately. Andrew doesn’t care though; he isn’t here to make friends. He is here to do his job.

Josten is the first to break. He turns, stiff, and walks down the hall to the sleeping chambers. Andrew watches him go and waits a few more minutes to give him a bit more time. He’s not really sure why. He could have left when he saw Josten climbing into the vent and pretend he never saw the body, or he could have simply reported exactly what he witnessed.

But it often gets boring on the Enterprise, and perhaps Andrew is intrigued, maybe he wants to see where this goes. Plus, it might come in handy to have the resident murderer indebted to him.

Andrew reports the body over the comm link and makes his way to the cafeteria.

_ _

It was Green who was killed, though Andrew never bothered to learn the man’s real name. The remaining crewmates are dragged from their tasks to deliberate over the murder, while Andrew watches over the chaos and waits for Josten to join them. In the end he points his finger at Red, who has no alibi except for her claim to be down in Navigation at the time of the murder. But the others do not listen and in their panic, they are quick to vote her out.

Her screams of terror and pleading are cut short by the hiss of the chamber door sealing shut. It is Yellow who slams the ejection button, and Andrew watches as Red is spat into the black vacuum of space. Yellow flinches when the air is forced out of her lungs and her blood boils in her veins, but Andrew does not.

Ten crewmates turn to eight in a day, and the others are soothed enough to go back to their assignments. At least until Andrew finds Josten stuffing Yellow’s crumpled form into one of the cupboards in Storage a few days later.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Andrew says smoothly, and Josten flips around, quite literally caught in the act. He’s still holding the knife, but he lowers it when he sees Andrew.

“I owe you two?” he says.

“One,” Andrew replies. Josten tips his head, a strangely animal action with the giant space helmet on. “I want your name.”

Josten hesitates.

“Your full name.”

“Neil,” he says slowly, as if trying it out. “Neil Josten.”

“Neil,” Andrew repeats, and he quite likes the taste of it on his tongue. It tastes a little of danger, like the iron-tang of blood. “Now show me your face, and we will be even.”

Neil is slow in taking off his helmet, and Andrew watches in rapt attention as the vents blow out a stream of oxygen and steam as the seals release and Neil twists the helmet off.

Andrew wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Neil looks normal. At least, he has a nose and a mouth, and reddish-brown hair falling into his eyes. It’s as his gaze is tracking the movement of his auburn curls that Andrew spots the reason Neil was so hesitant to take off his helmet.

His eyes are a bright, crimson red, glittering and dark under the fringe of his hair. Undeniably alien.

Andrew takes a step forward and grabs Neil by the chin. He brings his face down closer to his own and moves it side to side, studying him. Aside from the eyes, his face is also marked by deep gouges and circular scars on either side of his face. He is very attractive, and Andrew feels a slow, tight pull in his navel. He would quite like to take this man apart, bit by bit. Neil is silent as he lets Andrew look his fill.

“There’s a vent in the corner of the room, to the left,” Andrew says, releasing Neil’s face. “I’d be quick if I were you.”

Neil narrows those red eyes of his before reattaching his helmet and following Andrew’s directions. He has the vent open and one leg in when he turns back and says, “Why do you never talk to any of the others?”

Andrew gives him a thin, close-mouthed smile and says nothing.

He doesn’t report the body. He lets Purple find it, and he and Neil meet the others in the cafeteria together. His suit his clean, no traces of the blood that had been previously splattered down his front. His helmet is on, but he’s not the only one hiding their face so no one mentions it.

“Minyard,” the man in the white suit says. Andrew is pretty sure his name is Folkson or Falkner or something. His face his pale, eyes stretched wide, and his lips tremble as he talks. He’s the oldest out of all of them, and has taken the helm. “Where were you?”

“With Josten,” Andrew says. “We were clearing out the oxygen tanks in O2.”

“That’s not usually a two-person job,” Lime says suspiciously.

Andrew levels a look at her. “It is if you do it properly.”

“We need to figure this out,” Cyan snaps, and Andrew wracks his brain for their name. He comes up blank. “We’ve been getting picked off for weeks and we still have no fucking clue as to why.”

“They might not be human,” Pink says in his quiet voice, thin as a thread. He clutches his gloves in his hands, turning them over and over. “What if this is a game to them?”

Andrew hedges a look toward Neil but he is still, silent.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cyan says, and rolls their eyes. “We need to stay focused before we lose the mission.”

“You give a lot of orders and not a lot of answers,” Folkson or Falkner gripes.

“I could say the same for you,” Cyan replies coolly.

Andrew lets them bicker. He said his piece, and both he and Neil are cleared. After all, Pink saw them on the cameras, and they were no one near the body when Purple found it. In fact, no one was around, and soon the suspicion turns to Purple. Their pleas fall on deaf ears as they are locked in the ejection chamber and Cyan presses the button.

The others whisper around them, desperate prayers to a God that has no place in the depths of space. Let us be right, they murmur. Please, this time, let us be right.

_ _

The first time Andrew kisses Neil, they are in the showers and he has just scrubbed the last of Falkner’s blood off of him. Red turns to pink as it runs off of him, over the white tiles, and down the drain. Andrew knows someone will stumble across the body and report it soon, but he doesn’t care.

Neil’s voice is different when he’s not wearing the helmet, and so is his gasp when Andrew pushes him against the still-dripping wall and presses their mouths together in a bruising kiss. He has a grip on his t-shirt, one in his hair, and he angles their mouths together in a way that has Neil scrabbling against the wall for support.

“Andrew,” he says, and the sound is long, drawn out. Neil tips his head back against the wall and Andrew mouths at his neck, his skin warm from the blood pumping life through his body.

Neil is a killer, the imposter among them, but his skin still bruises and his body still reacts to Andrew’s touch. He kisses him, again and again and again, each one harsher than the last.

Andrew only pulls away when Neil’s tongue darts out to touch his bottom lip. He takes a step back. He needs to be more careful. He shouldn’t be letting Neil get close like this, it’s too dangerous. Too easy to slip up.

Neil’s eyes are blown, his cheeks flushed. “I think we should blame Lime,” he says, breathless.

Andrew presses another kiss to his mouth and resists the urge to sink his teeth into Neil’s lip. Dangerous.

Once under control, Andrew says, “There will be four of us left, after this.”

Neil nods, suddenly solemn. He almost looks regretful. He opens his mouth, closes it.

“Let’s go,” he says without meeting Andrew’s eyes, and Andrew has the feeling that he was going to say something else. Before he can ask, though, Neil is already pulling on his gear.

In the end, they can’t decide who to eject, and Lime is safe. For now.

_ _

“I didn’t do that one,” Neil says quietly, peering down at Lime’s twisted body at the bottom of the stairs. Her neck is broken, blonde hair falling over a face slackened by death, though still etched with fear. Andrew imagines her eyes widening, mouth opening in a scream as hands wrap around her throat, shoving her down the stairs. The image is not difficult to conjure.

“Must have tripped,” Andrew replies. He looks at Neil in the corner of his eyes, and a thrill goes through him when he sees the now-familiar bloodred of his gaze.

“I suppose we report this to the others,” Neil says the same moment Cyan enters the room with Pink in tow.

“Get away from him,” Cyan snarls, and it takes a moment for Andrew to realize that they’re talking to him. “He is the imposter. You – Orange.”

Desperation makes people clumsy, sloppy, and Andrew sees that they are very afraid. Neil looks alarmed – and extremely guilty standing over the body. Never mind Andrew was also caught red-handed, Cyan and Pink surround Neil and Neil only.

So they don’t suspect Andrew at all.

“You killed Gen,” Cyan says, voice shrill. They leap at Neil, and with Pink’s help they corner him against the wall as Andrew watches on. “And I’m willing to bet you were plotting to kill Black too. Lure him down and execute him here.”

“What of it?” Neil says through clenched teeth. Cyan has his arms pinned to his sides, and there is nowhere for him to go. They force him back, crowding him into the ejection chamber. Neil jerks in their grip, but Cyan holds tight. Pink grapples with the panel on the wall to open the door, but his shaking hands slide helplessly over the smooth panel. He finally finds a grip and gets the door open.

“Look at his eyes,” Pink cries. “I told you. I told you he wasn’t human.”

“Shut up,” Cyan grits and shoves Neil into the chamber. Neil struggles, bucking in a last-ditch effort to get out of Cyan’s grip, but it’s useless. They found their imposter, and now they’re going to kill him. His wide red eyes meet Andrew’s calm ones, and he rams his body into Cyan’s, desperate.

Cyan grunts at the impact and looks over their shoulder at Andrew. “Black,” They hiss. “Minyard, help – ”

Andrew smiles, revealing the rows of razor-sharp teeth he has so carefully hid from everyone until now. Pink sees it first and screams, but it’s cut off when Andrew lunges and sinks his fangs in his slender neck. Blood gushes into his mouth, and it tastes so sweet. Pinks chokes, hands fluttering ineffectually at his sides as Andrew tears out his throat.

Cyan watches with horror, but before they can do anything, Neil is already there, his arms wrapped around their neck. He forces their head back at such a steep angle that Cyan cries out in pain, and shakes them like a ragdoll. It is easy now that they have the element of surprise, and Neil snaps Cyan’s neck with ease. They slump to the ground and Neil stares at their body, chest heaving from the fight.

“You,” he says, still out of breath, eyes traveling up to Andrew’s. “You’re the other one.”

Andrew licks his lips, blood dripping from his face, his sharpened teeth, and Neil tracks the movement. “Yes,” he says simply.

Neil grins. “Good. I would have hated killing you.”

“You never would have gotten close.” Andrew steps over Pink’s still-twitching body and hooks his fingers in the thick collar of Neil’s space suit. “Yes or no?”

Neil’s eyes are dilated, black enveloping red. “You already know my answer,” he says, voice heavy.

Andrew’s grip on him tightens. “Say it anyway.”

“Yes,” Neil says and Andrew yanks him in for a fierce kiss. Neil makes a sound low in his throat, guttural, and Andrew swallows it. He’s sure he nicks Neil with his teeth now that he’s not so concerned about keeping them hidden, but Neil doesn’t seem to mind. He is happy licking the blood from Andrew’s lips.

Neil’s eyes flash red and Andrew’s teeth bare in a sharp smile. Game over.

[alisaspages]

FOOD//Peter Parker

Fem x Peter Parker

TW// eating disorder

Peter and I have been together since we were born. We’ve been dating since we were 13 after ignoring each other two years straight. He quickly confessed his love after I said sorry. We’re now 15. We’re pretty young. He’s spider-man. And I pretty much begged him to have Tony make me a multi-million dollar suit to make me spider-girl. He said no. But then I talked to Steve who got him to make me my own avenger suit. But technically I’m not an avenger yet.

My hero name is Y/H/N and Tony says my suit is made from a special metal but he won’t tell me what type. I let him experiment on me and use me as a lab rat. I came out with super strength, telekinesis, and teleportation. Bucky taught me how to use knives. Today we were all going for dinner as a kind gesture from Tony. Actually Pepper convinced him.

We went as fancy as we could. I showed up in this:

I went inside and the waitress lead me to our table. I really didn’t want to come. I only said yes for Nat and Peter. “Hi guys” I waved. Peter stared in awe and I blushed. They all looked shocked. “You look like a girl?” Tony said confused. Most times they’d seen me I was wearing baggie clothes and beanies. “Uhh thanks?” I said quietly. Peter pat the spot next to him and I sat next to him on the soft padded chair. I kissed him “hi Spider-boy.” He blushed “you look ravishing. Pretty. Gorgeous.” I giggled a little pleased by the comments and excitement “thanks love.” I held his hand under the table.

Lately I hadn’t been eating since I started gaining weight. I didn’t tell anyone. Peter came over one evening and saw me in a crop top and shorts for the first time I quickly covered myself up and he turned away “sorry. Go ahead and change I’ll wait.” Was all he said squeezing his eyes shut at the wall. He made me dinner the day after that. I gave it to my dogs while he wasn’t looking and I felt so bad.

First the appetizers came. It was nachos, I glanced at it then looked at my feet. “Y/N have some.” Steve said kindly. I shook my head “I’m gonna save myself for the main course. Thanks though.” He nodded and the waitress pulled out her notepad the second time since we’d arrived “what would you like to drink?” She asked looking at me first. I let out a loud sigh “uhhh.. water.” Peter looked at me with concern and whispered “you okay? Usually you eat a lot and order a lot of soda?” I nodded “just tired. Sorry babe.” My eyelids were heavy and usually I’d drink a monster to help at this time but I couldn’t. “Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault. I kept you up all night building my legos with Ned.” I shrugged “it’s okay.” I said kissing his cheek. When we looked back up it was his turn “uhhh coke?” The waitress nodded and was gone within seconds. My stomach grumbled and I tensed knowing Peter heard it. “C’mon love. Eat.” I shook my head “no it’s not that. Yesterday my mom made something absolutely gross and my stomach kind of hurts.” I felt awful lying to him. But I had to stay perfect for him. I was desperate to have Natashas body. Wandas. Even peppers. I would take anyone’s body over mine. I have stretch marks on my thighs, I’m over the average weight for my age, I have a heat allergy, and I’m very short. The list goes on forever. Not to mention the acne.

After ordering our main courses which mine was just a salad, Steve and Natasha looked at me funny “you love this restaurant? You love steak!” Steve said in a confused tone “Yeah… what’s wrong? You seem off.” By this point I wasn’t seeing straight. I missed going to the gym today so that I wouldn’t look so pale. It’s been at least a week. This was bound to happen sooner or later. “Yeah. Just my mom made this terrible meatloaf yesterday. I’m still recovering.” What I didn’t know was aunt May would be coming. She sent food home for me and my mom and I just put it in the fridge. She came in “Hey guys. Sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find my dress.” I choked on my water and coughed “sorry. Hi aunt May.” She waved “how was the food last night?” I shrugged drowsily “I ate my mom’s meatloaf. Sorry May.” She rose a brow “I thought that was for tomorrow?” Fuck. I shook my head “she changed her mind.” May nodded and I rested my head on Peters shoulder. Our food came and May ordered. I poked and prodded at my food and Natasha sighed loudly “okay I’ve seen enough why aren’t you eating?” I shrugged “I’m not feeling well.” She rolled her eyes “Y/N I know you better than you know yourself what’s going on?” I sighed standing up and wobbling “shut up. Stop asking me if I’m fine for gods sakes.” Oh no. Nononono. Fuck. I stumbled and Steve, Peter, and Natasha jumped out of there seats. I closed my eyes but they weren’t opening up again. I felt myself tumble into someone’s arms. Warm and stringy. Peter.

When I opened my eyes again I was connected to a couple tubes and wires but I wasn’t at the hospital. I knew this room too well. I was in the Avengers tower. “Morning.” Tony said smiling. I rolled over and he called the Avengers in. “She’s fine.” He said when Steve and Natasha bursted in right behind Peter. “How are you feeling?” Steve asked concerned. I only shrugged. I needed energy “Can I have a monster?” I asked as I sat up slowly. Peter shook his head “No. Mj called. She told me about your little diet! You can’t live off of monsters and water.” I sighed “it doesn’t matter.” He shook his head faster tears in his eyes. “No! I love you. So it does matter because I need you.” He put a hand on my cheek “why? You’re so beautiful.” I shook my head as the others came in.

I looked at them then looked at Peter. “Look at the girls. Look at Natasha. Everyone falls at their feet. Look at aunt May and Pepper. Look at Wanda. Look at them.” He looked at them confused “I don’t get it.” I shook my head looking at the floor, tears spilling out. “They are so perfect. They have nice boobs and good Ass. They are the perfect weight. They can just eat and still look like fucking Models Peter. Everyone wants to be them or is in love with them. I’d kill to look like them. Natasha knelt “I didn’t get this way starving myself sweetheart.” I looked away and Steve knelt on the other side of me “you’re so beautiful. You don’t have to look like Natasha. Or Pepper or Wanda or Sharon or anyone that isn’t you. You like being yourself don’t you?” I nodded and looked at Loki and Thor “Liz and Flash were making fun of me for it. Liz said I was hideous. Flash said I was worse than Ned. So I stood up for Ned but I couldn’t seem to do the same for me.” Loki pulled his daggers out and I shook my head “I was so frozen. It was pathetic.” Banner shook his head “that’s not pathetic. It’s okay to be scared sometimes. It’s not your fault.”

I hid my face in the crook of peters neck holding Steve’s hand. Steve was always my favourite and he was even my crush. But nobody went over Peters head. “Mj kept telling me I was pretty but it’s so easy for you guys to talk. You have hot perfect bodies. Like Steve has really hot abs. Because they aren’t like “I’ll crush you” abs but they’re “let’s cuddle and kiss” abs. Natashas body is self explanatory, and Peter. Oh Peter. You have the cutest face ever and that one time I saw you in your boxers- oh my god. Whatever! Point in fact is you’re all so perfect and ripped and you probably have really big-�� Peter slapped a hand over my mouth “okay. That’s enough talking.” I giggled a bit.

After that it took me a while to get back to my regular eating habits. But someone would always check in. I was only given rehab monsters till I could stop drinking them all together. They agreed not to tell my family as long as I ate properly. It was fun being able to eat whatever I wanted again. But I still felt conscious about my weight so Nat would help me find better ways to lose weight. We always dragged Wanda Pepper Steve May Peter and Tony to the gym. Often, Steve would bring Bucky and Sharon. I mostly just felt the urge to punch Sharon. Pepper would even bring Maria. Though I was getting healthier I was still finding that I wasn’t always feeling good. Steve said it’s because I have to stop staying up and playing with Peters lego but Nat thinks it’s just my body getting back into its old habits. Tony said it’s from listening to anything Steve says and Bruce says that it’s normal and my body is detoxing or something. Peter just likes to give me cuddles and kisses and belly rubs. Fury tells me he just wants everyone to shut up. Thor thinks I might not be able to go back to normal.

I hope you guys liked, it’s my first time writing about things like this so I hope you enjoyed it :)

[cafedanslanuit]

Third time’s the charm || Hawks x Reader

summary; “His amber eyes stayed open the whole time, a tint of sadness in them I was too afraid to ask about. I wish I hadn’t been such a coward. I wish I had squeezed his hand right back.“

notes; manga spoilers up to 271. i decided to switch it up a little and write a reader story in first person. hope you like that <3

I should have known something was going on. Keigo wasn’t the type that would blurt out his feelings; he had years of training to feign who he was to other people. Why had he suddenly been so adamant in letting me know what he thought of me? He was the most respected, likable, and loved hero, even if he wasn’t the number one. He had no obligation in showing his true self and that was something I had accepted a long time ago. So, when in less than twelve hours he told me he loved me no less than two times, I should have been alerted. The mere fact he was talking about feelings should have been my first sign. Fuck, it should have been my only sign.

He had texted me saying he would be coming over in an hour or so. I tried to make myself look more alluring as I waited for him. Even if we had agreed we weren’t a couple but just a couple of friends who cared for each other, there was no harm in fixing my hair and putting on some lipstick if I could see him smile when I opened the door.

But he didn’t smile. Keigo had a stern look when he walked inside my apartment. I offered him some macaroni leftovers and he started pacing around the living room, taking his time every time he found one of my framed pictures. They had been there for years now, so his interest seemed a little sudden to me. The sound of the microwave going off startled him, but he still turned around and met me in the kitchen, where I was pouring a glass of wine for him.

“Are you okay?” I asked. Keigo nodded and began eating the macaroni. I poured myself a glass of wine as well and sat opposite him on the kitchen table. Every question I dared to ask was professionally dodged, making me wonder why he had even bothered to come by. I knew he couldn’t tell me any details about the hero missions he was involved in, but he knew I liked to listen to him when he told me about anecdotes that had happened during patrols.

“How’s the hospital?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the food. I told him about a couple of patients I had seen that morning and, even if he nodded along with my words, I could tell he wasn’t really listening. I let out a long sigh and put my hand on top of his left hand. He finally looked up, making me notice the bags under his eyes looked darker than usual.

“Keigo, what’s wrong?”

The man paused for a moment, his lips parting for a second before they closed again. He left the fork on the plate and delicately patted his mouth with the napkin I had left on the table. Keigo pulled away with his chair and patted his thighs. Accepting his invitation, I walked to him and sat on his lap, my arms circling around his neck. He kissed my shoulder as he hugged my waist, holding me even closer to him. I figured he couldn’t really share details about what had happened that day. I thought I was doing the right thing by giving him space and respecting his work as a hero. I should have insisted. I should have asked him again. I shouldn’t have ended the conversation there.

We made love that night. And it wasn’t a euphemism. We had been fucking around for more than a year, but that night felt different. There were not dominant positions, no hair pulling, no marks on his skin or mine, like there usually were. He lay between my thighs, his right hand making sure my left leg was hooked around his waist. For the first time, he kept his eyes locked in mine. Not used to that, I tried pulling him in for a kiss, but he caught my hand and set it on the bed near my head, his hand resting on top of it. As his thrusts became faster, I felt how he intertwined his fingers with mine. His amber eyes stayed open the whole time, a tint of sadness in them I was too afraid to ask about. I wish I hadn’t been such a coward. I wish I had squeezed his hand right back.

That night was also the first time we came together. Neither of us was planning on it, but when I was coming down from my high, I felt him twitching inside of me, making me realize he had just come as well. Keigo buried his face on the crook of my neck and whimpered, his lips grazing my skin.

“I love you” he panted, his voice broken. I stayed in silence, waiting for a punchline that never came. I furrowed his eyebrows, asking myself if I had heard correctly. Was his confession a product of the heat of the moment? Was he already regretting saying that out loud? Most importantly, did I love him back? I hadn’t dared to ask myself that question out of fear of it being true. If I was in love with Takami Keigo, the man with whom I agreed to a friendship with benefits, I would probably lose him for good. He had been very clear about how dangerous his work was and how he couldn’t have any relationships that could endanger the other person and also be used against him.

All the feelings I had stored in the highest and most unreachable part of my mind had fallen down and I didn’t know what to do with them. I didn’t even know if I should do something with them. I had always known our relationship was more than just sex. There were times when he would come over and we would just order food, watch a movie and fall asleep on top of each other. We deeply cared for one another, or at least I felt we did. I had calmed him down from nightmares he wouldn’t talk about, but just silently cry on my chest and he would listen whenever stress from the hospital and exhaustion took their toll and broke me into a mess of tears. Even then, I had never dared to revisit the feelings I had pushed away the day he proposed we took our friendship to the next level. But now, they were all falling down on me and they had apparently grown stronger as I had ignored them over the last year.

I must have tensed up without realizing because Keigo squeezed my hand gently and chuckled against my skin.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said and I nodded underneath him. We fell asleep shortly after that, with him still buried inside me, his wings covering both our bodies from the cold.

The next morning, I was turning the coffee maker off when Keigo emerged from the bedroom, already dressed up. I greeted him with a smile and he shot a playful remark back, even if his aura still felt a little off. His messy hair made me remember how young he really was, in spite of all the weight he constantly had on his shoulders. He sat on the kitchen table and ruffled his hair, letting out a yawn. I poured myself a cup of coffee and then leaned on the counter, looking at him.

“So, about last night…” I started, nervously looking at the cup between my hands. Keigo laughed, the tone of his voice feeling much more homely than ever.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, a mischievous smile on his lips. I shook my head.

“No, no, that’s not it. I just… I’m sorry about what happened. I was surprised and didn’t know what to say. But… I wish we could talk about that now”.

“I’d like that, dove,” he said, crooking his head to the side. “But I gotta leave in ten”.

“You’re not staying for breakfast?”

“Can’t do. Duty calls” Keigo shrugged, stretching his arms upwards and successfully cracking his joints.

“So… tonight, maybe?” I insisted. He looked at me, that sad smile once again on his face.

Keigo stood up and walked towards me. He grabbed the cup I was holding and left it aside. His expression had gone back to the one he had the night before, a million words trapped inside his mind with no way out. 

“Okay” he breathed out. “I’ll see you tonight”. Keigo bit his bottom lip and held my head between his hands, his thumbs resting on my cheeks. He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes tightly shut.

“Keigo, what…?”

“I love you”

This time, I was way more confident about my answer. I couldn’t even repress the smile that crept on my lips. Somehow, his words had caused an even stronger reaction in me than the last time. I let out a breathy laugh, my arms finding their way around his torso. I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, he put two fingers over it, silencing me.

“Tonight,” Keigo said, his eyes looking straight into mine. “I’ll bring dinner and we’ll talk, okay?”

I let out a heavy sigh and reluctantly nodded. “Fine,” I said, taking his hand off my mouth. Keigo flashed one of his playful smiles.

“They say third time’s the charm, dove,” he cheekily grinned, winking at me. I rolled my eyes and let him go.

As I think of him now, I can still see Keigo closing the door behind him. I should have noticed he was wearing one of his TV smiles. I should have stopped him, kissed him, hit him, I don’t know. I shouldn’t have let him go without saying I loved him back.

That night never came. That night was filled with doctors barking orders, nurses running around, everybody trying to save as many heroes as they could. The war had been the greatest tragedy the hospital I worked for had ever seen. Every gurney in the hospital was being used by injured heroes and civilians, the smell of death present each time I turned the corner.

When the hospital called me, I was already on my way. I had just put the chicken in the oven when I grabbed my phone and decided to go through my feed. I didn’t need to scroll far to see news reports about the war that was happening between villains and a great number of heroes. They said they were The Liberation Army, but I hadn’t heard about them before. I quickly turned the TV on, just in time to see Endeavor lying on the ground as a villain raised his fist on top of him. There was no news on Hero Number Two Hawks. I saw heroes that looked old enough to still be in school fighting and I couldn’t help but think of Keigo and his lost childhood due to his hero training. I quickly turned the oven off and grabbed my keys before running to the hospital.

No news is good news, I repeated to myself silently as I stabilized a hero’s broken leg. No news is good news.

No one knew Keigo was more than a friend to me. Hell, no one even knew we were friends at all, which meant no one was going to let me know if the had found him and how badly hurt he was. When I finished my shift, it took a long time before I could find him. I had to ask around without raising suspicion, just in case I ended up endangering him even more. After a couple of hours, a nurse confessed he had seen Hawks being taken to an OR but hadn’t seen him after that. After a quick review of the OR chart, I managed to find his hospital room, far from the other patients that were also recovering from the war.

Keigo’s room was guarded by two tall men I figured were sent by the Hero Public Safety Commission. I lied about being sent to take his vitals and after showing them my hospital ID, they let me inside. The soft beep of the machines hooked to his body was the only noise in the room. His eyes were closed and half his face was covered with gauze. I grazed his fingertips with my own, the only part of his arms that wasn’t covered by bandages. His wings were gone, but a part of my brain kept screaming I needed to lay him on his side because he always hated how uncomfortable it felt when he lay on his back. I bit my lip trying to calm myself down and took a look at his chart that was resting on his nightstand. Keigo was in a medically induced coma. He was stable, but the nerve damage he had received on his wings was disheartening. Also, the massive burns all over his body made his healing process even more difficult. I reviewed the work done by the other doctors; even if I knew due to his status his case must be directly supervised by the head of Trauma, the best one in Japan. Just like I thought, they had already done everything they could to save his life. Now all that was left to do was wait.

“Keigo” I whispered, as I pretended to take notes from the screen of the machine in case the guards were looking through the small window on the door. If there was a small chance he could listen to me, I was going to take it. I didn’t know when I would get to see him again. I quickly wiped the tear that fell down my cheek and took a deep breath. “You said third time’s the charm... I’ll be here, then”.

[polymathemawrites]

Hand Holds - Part 1/?

cw: wow typical violence, rogue nonsense, mentioned trauma, mathias being mathias

No beta here, this doesn’t follow the canonical plotline for them because I do what I want, if I never finish this please forgive me I am a flake

Read under the cut for the story 

He watches Fairwind work on the deck of the Middenwake, muscles shifting under the linen of his shirt, his coat thrown somewhere and not on him for once, not surprising considering the work Mathias has been watching him do for the last bit of time. Heavy ropes coil and shift, and he's doing something with the sails that the Spymaster does not pretend to understand even a little bit. The lights onboard the ship illuminate him better than the setting sun, but even then Mathias would have been able to see the familiar frame just fine. Even with his wandering focus he can still feel someone watching him in turn and seeing as it's not Fairwind, he looks down from his dark little alcove to the deck proper to see what he expected to see - Shandris Feathermoon watching him, better than the Commander at least.

To stop what he is doing would be to admit guilt, so he turns his attention away from her and back to the Captain of the Middenwake, hip shifting to rest cocked against the wall. He doesn't hear her come, no surprise there, only knows she is there when she lets him know, the exhalation of a sigh.

"Humans have such odd courtship rituals."

"I'm not courting him."

She leans against the wall next to him, her arms crossing her chest, nearly mimicking his own stance, "Are you not?"

He does not want to be having this conversation and definitely not with Feathermoon.

Leaving is conceding ground, again - guilt he isn't going to admit. "I would be far more up front about it, if I were."

"So you've been standing up here, watching him for an hour, for no reason?"

Mathias turns to level her with a look that would have sent trainees in Old Town running, but he doesn't expect it to do much to her, and it doesn't. Partial commander of their forces here, and he himself too for that matter, not much could have cowed the sentinel, and certainly not one human a fraction of her life-span. "He's easy on the eyes." It's in itself a damning confession but there are few who know him by name that do not know his predilictions. It had been a political move mostly, no one would ravel him up in their machinations for marriage plots to better their station if he was confirmed to be unwedable because he was unlikely to produce and heir.

He could swear she rolls her eyes at him. "Odd, what did I say? Why do you not just go offer him your bed?" She motions toward the Middenwake, "He would accept, if that is what worries you."

Nope, nope - not having this conversation. He takes a steady grip of the rail and swings himself up and over, landing on silent feet on the bottom deck, startling a champion on her way to report to Commander Wyrmbane. He sidesteps around the woman with an apology, catching a glimpse of movement from the deck of the Middenwake he spurs himself faster and takes the gangplank, only to hear the footfalls of a night elf doing nothing to hide herself behind him.

Cursing under his breath he swerves rounding the dock, hoping to lose her in the crush of people outside the harbormaster's office but as easily as he weaves through the crowd, so does she. Night elves and their damnable grace, it took him an entire twenty years to learn this. "Are you running from me, or from yourself?"

"I would appreciate it immensely if you minded your own business, Feathermoon. Do you not have enough to do, would you like me to set you up a target practice range, find someone who needs killing?" They break from the press of people, hitting the ramp that leads up and along, but right as he moves to round the corner, he realizes his mistake, too close to the edge, nowhere to go, he runs right into the large form of a Kul Tiran sailor.

He's seconds away from breaking the steadying hold - hands on his arms, before he realizes the surprised face looking down at him is none other than the focus of his last hour's wandering gaze. "Captain." He only just sounds this side of breathless which is embarrassing enough.

"Aye Spymaster, you're going at a right clip." His grin makes Mathias' stomach do unfortunate flips, "Were you coming to see me?"

"He was." Feathermoon pipes up behind him.

Oh that damndable elf and her meddling, this is what he gets for abandoning his paperwork. "I wished to hear your report on the Azerite shipment from earlier today, first hand. I heard there was a dragon spotted?" He does break the hold now, easily stepping back but the heat of the Captain's hands remain burning on his bare skin beneath his pauldrons.

An admirable cover, he pretends he doesn't hear Shandris' sigh to the side.

Fairwind seems to only just have noticed Shandris and he does as passable a salute he seems able, nothing at all respectful about it, and his easy grin ruins the whole pantomime. "Were you coming to hear me tell all about the dragon too, General?"

She shakes her head in the negative, bouncing on her heels in a way he's seen her do when she's at ease, an oddly childish movement for a woman so very old. It just reminds him of how different night elves are to humans, and he wonders how old she actually is, not just in terms of years but in terms of her people's maturity. His wandering thoughts are interrupted by the sweeping and dramatic bow that Fairwind gives her.

"Then do you mind if I steal the Spymaster? It's not often he comes to talk to me of his own volition you see, and I was hoping I could convince him to get a bit of kip with me."

Food. Kip was food, Mathias opens his mouth to deny the invitation, but Shandris is quicker.

"Of course Captain, and well you should - I have not seen Master Shaw eat all day."

"Like a bird he is." Flynn spins on his heel, throwing a look back at them - mostly at Shaw. "Coming Spymaster? I have some victuals in my cabin you might find enjoyable."

"I'm sure he will." Shandris Feathermoon bounces on her heels again. Damned woman.

He easily catches up with Fairwind, following him the short distance to the Middenwake, berthed as it was directly across from the Wind's Redemption. "Have you really had nothing to eat?" Fairwind's voice sounds soft with concern.

"I skipped lunch, although General Feathermoon wasn't there to see me do so." He's annoyed at that, she'd guessed and it had been correctly, which grated on him. That she probably paid close attention to his routine to know the truth of it.

"You do that too often and I'll be able to throw you around."

The glare he levels Fairwind with lacks teeth, "You would be sorely pressed to try."

He finds where the man had put his coat once they're in the Captain's quarters on the ship, slung over the back of the chair seated at the man's very messy desk. The window is open to let in the breeze and also the sounds of Boralus outside. Lighting a number of lanterns and also putting wood in the stove, Fairwind bids him to sit in-between tasks, and Mathias obliges him by perching on the only other chair in the room not piled with things.

"So the dragon-" is how the story begins and Fairwind is a consumate storyteller, Mathias finds himself enjoying the journey despite the little barbs he puts in to tell the man to hurry up with it. He doesn't hurry up with it anyway, and so Mathias has been plied with a large number of hard meats, savory cheeses, and crusty bread, as well as a bottle of wine, "And then we had to avoid the Horde chasing us halfway back to friendly waters."

"That's the part I want to hear more about." It's been an hour maybe, there is nothing but darkness outside and the weight upon his shoulders has gradually lifted with the application of wine and company. "Did they open fire on you?"

"Oh no, no. We were a good bit out from them, it would have been a waste of cannonballs, if I were to take a guess I'd assume they wanted to see if we knew any other islands in the immediate area."

A blade's edge of anxiety leaves him then, and he doesn't even realize it was there until it is gone. "Glad to hear it."

When did it happen, he wonders on his way back to his berth on the Wind's Redemption. When did he begin to fall for Captain Fairwind? Was it the treasury? Before? Was it the man's docier on his desk? In the past it had been easy to bury it, send the offending person away, or himself away. But Fairwind wasn't one of his and he had nowhere to go to escape this slow descent into familiarity. He should push away, he knows. Too much at stake and more - he is terrified of the release in it. To let go of that control and what does he have but himself to master? Too many variables and one can never control them, but himself - he was good at that. At denial and the chains of servitude. He was born for this, bred to serve the Kings of Stormwind in blade and body.

But looking at the light coming from the Captain's quarters on the Middenwake stirs something in him. Dangerous as a knife to the throat it is a hunger inside of him for something more than he had been made for. He knew where that got him in the past, it bloodied his hands and broke his heart, it resulted in a man's head on his desk and the dagger at his side instead of the man who it had belonged to. What was right and what was moral? Not for him to determine, that was the work of greater men. Ripples in a pond and Mathias was the man who monitored them, sent them in the right direction when needed. He was not meant for soft things, for a warm body to come home to, or in this case - to be the warm body to return to. He was no man's home, and never would he be, as much as he might ache for it.

He looks up the gangplank and sees Shandris Feathermoon's back and he turns on his heel, something in him aching too much to be prodded and poked at right now. His mind is far away and he pulls it back, reins it in with the spur of his own physicality. He sets off at speed, kicking off the high wall, his gloved hands finding perfect grooves in the old harbor wall to pull himself up the distance. There is an exhalation of breath behind and below him, a vendor gathering their wares for the day, but he is gone before they even fully register he'd been there and likely their surprise will bleed into disbelief for he is nothing but a shadow. He is running the length of the wall then, high but not yet high enough. Age and strife has worn the brick work - nothing like Stormwind's pristine harbor wall, it's gleaming white masonry - so when he jumps gaps he's able to actually breathe without the weight of guilt in every step, and that freedom causes each leap to carry him further, like a bird nearly in flight. Too long grounded for a roof-walker, too long at desks and buried under bureaucracy.

He takes the gap from the wall to the rooftops as if he is weightless, barely do his feet meet the tiles before he's off again, running the length of the roof's crest on the strongest part of the structure. When he jumps the next gap he looks down to see the market below for that fleeting second, the milling merchantiers and the travelers from all corners of Azeroth, with him above them all.

He's passed the trade's district, passed the Middenwake now too, he's scaling the upper level of the bridge toward Mariner's Row when his lungs turn to fire. He pushes further, further, a snarl as he forces air into iron barrel of his aching chest. One long wide gap and he soars. The landing is rough, he rolls through it and pushes himself up, staggers forward, on, on, he's not done yet. Shandris' words come back to him, 'Are you running from me or from yourself?' He flings himself forward, off the bridge, only to catch his hands against the old stone, the leather beneath them burning as he slides, down and down - but it's enough friction to slow his descent.

On his feet he shakes his hands out, casually looking up to meet the stare of the guard stationed a few feet from where he'd landed. The man has his mouth hanging open in shock. Mathias pushes the hair falling forward onto his face back. "Just testing the structural integrity of the bridge." He murmurs, turning back towards the way he came.

Luck, or something like it, is with him when he gets back to the Wind's Redemption. The only people on deck are Wyrmbane and a couple of Alliance Champions all three of them focused on the campaign map. He moves to slip past them only for the paladin to look up and catch his eye, and before Mathias can nod and dismiss himself, the man is speaking.

"Master Shaw, these two have some information you might like to hear."

There is nothing but darkness and stars above and yet the work is never done so he comes to stand by the table instead of vanishing into the hold - as much as he wanted to just curl up with a pot of tea and his paperwork. One of them is a Ren'dorei in cloth and the other a human in leathers and he leans against the table with one hip, arms crossed over his chest.

"Master Shaw," the Ren'dorei man bows with the customary flourish of his ilk that Mathias still had trouble determining was sarcastic or not, but the man's words didn't betray any disrespect as he continued, "When my partner and I were flying over toward Drustvar we saw some suspicious Horde activity in the region between Tiragarde and the coast over there."

Here the human man took up the thread, "They had a landin' part right along the coast almost up to Fletcher's Hollow." The man had a thick Gilnean accent, "We couldn't see how many there were, but it was likely enough to give someone up there trouble."

Commander Wyrmbane looked to him, "It doesn't appear to be a full incursion." There was an unspoken request for input at this point and Mathias leaned over to look at the map, tracking where Wyrmbane had put a pin in to denote the Horde sighting. The little cove was protected enough by mountains and more, and he could only imagine the havoc that might be wrought by a raiding part with a good foothold there.

"I'll send scouts." But what he really meant was that he was going to go down, pack an overnight bag, and go out himself. "Can you tell me anything about the individuals you saw?"

"I know one of 'em was an orc. There was also a couple of goblins, or extra large green mice, we were fairly high up, I'm afraid." The Gilnean man rubbed his bearded chin, "Saw a lot of crates."

Mathias excused himself after reassuring the commander he'd have something to report to Wyrmbane about come the next day. Finally slipping away to below deck he went to his office and then pushed through the door to his private quarters behind. Lighting the lamp he hung it up over his bed and began to arrange his pack. Poisons, a gnomish spyglass, and a small ration would hold him for the night. When he came back on deck the only one out was the night watch guard on duty and he gave the woman a nod as he took himself down the gangplank again.

Stopping to fill his canteen at the fountain in town and slip in a bit of cleansing powder, he let the sound of night-time revelry from the tavern nearby pour over him. It would have been easy to assign an agent to the task, there were a number of them off-duty tonight, probably finding their pleasures and daily relief in that very tavern. But the thought of the cold air against his face, the thrill of flight, and the promise of a mission to get him out of his head was too tempting.

The gryphonmaster greeted him with a wave, hands full of straw, in the middle of packing it down onto the nest of the gryphon standing nearby. The dark blue and red creature greeted him too, with a headbutt to the shoulder that would have knocked him over had he not braced himself for it. He sunk his fingers into her feathers and gave her a good scritch. "She'll miss you when you've gone, Spymaster Shaw."

"Doubt that will happen anytime soon." The war felt like it would go on forever, certainly he'd been in Boralus more than he'd been in Stormwind for the past months. "I'll need her overnight if she's rested and fed."

"Shadowtalon just had her sup, so you'll be doin' me a favor taking her out. She'll only want to fly after that meal, I wasn't looking forward to have to fluff up her nest for hours to try and get her to settle."

Drawing away from petting under her beak, Mathias took himself to saddling the gryphon, "There's a girl, we'll get you up in the clouds soon." Glancing toward the other nests he noted that one of them was noticeably empty. "When did Cadet Fordragon leave?"

"Oh 'bout an hour ago, took off toward the south."

He hummed a soft sound and slipped effortlessly into the saddle, already Shadowtalon's body was tensed beneath him so eager to take wing. With a final nod exchanged he gave her the pressure of his knees and then she was off, strong wings buffeting the ground and knocking straw about, before they were zipping up into the cold night sky. While all the gryphons he'd ridden in Boralus had been exceptionally well trained, there were two he had a fondness for, depending on where it was in Kul Tiras he needed to travel. There is a duality in the gryphons he favours too, ebon and snowy-white, both good for different cover. But for tonight's trip Shadowtalon's ebon coat would disguise him best, and that's exactly as Mathias preferred it to be.

Tiragarde unfolded beneath him, the long edge of it's coastline and the lights of various townships. He was barely at the height he liked best to travel at when the first sign of trouble became apparent. Smoke rising up from the south, near the mountains that cut off the main body of the isle from Freehold. The amount of it was reminiscent of a forest fire or a town burning and he banked Shadowtalon back down low to skin treetops, the air currents holding them steady. The source of the smoke became clear soon enough as they rose over the crest of a hill, the little hunter's lodge tucked away on the edge of the mountains was being attacked. With no sight of backup from Bridgeport in view he leaned his weight forward and Shadowtalon swooped evenly toward the ground. A less trained gryphon would have balked at the heat and smoke in the air but she just shrieked shrilly, a call for battle and blood. They hit the ground running and she bowled over a man about to strike down one of the lodge's hunters with his bully club. With an effortless motion, Mathias dismounted and then clucked his tongue and pointed toward the treeline. The look of distaste showed in her deep brown eyes but she fled the battle as directed, if she ended up hurt he'd never be able to rent a gryphon in Boralus again.

The hunter with her broken crossbow scrambled to her feet and then kicked the club away from the downed man, Mathias caught sight of her removing her skinning knife from her belt before he was turning, already slipping into the shadows.

He worked best in the dark and the fires from the inn set ablaze and various tent structures only aided in the shifting chaos of shadows, helping to even further obscure him. Humans against humans always put a bad taste in his mouth, but it was easy enough to determine between sides here. The hunters and traders of the lodge wore traveling leathers or hunting gear and were also well warmed against the falling snow - the raiders in contrast looked like burly dock workers and were trying their best to loot during the ensuing chaos caused. Ashvane dockworkers, Mathias guessed. Out of work and on the wrong side of the war.

Shadow stepping behind a truly massive mountain of a man, he struck sure with his blade into the man's lower back. Swift and sharp, he hit with a kidney shot before kicking the man in the back, only managing to stagger him to begin with thanks to his blade work. Even still it didn't prove enough to put the man down and he rounded a circle, swinging his sword wide. Easily Mathias dodged back, and the next blow he easily parried and swept to the side with the cross of his daggers. "Little Alliance dog!" Spat out along with blood and frustration, and Mathias slid under another angry swing. The crimson bloom of flowing blood was spreading through the man's shirt now, but his adrenaline was keeping him going. Soon enough even that wouldn't save him though, Mathias merely needed to wait him out.

He didn't have the patience for that tonight, not with the smoke catching in his throat and the necessity of ending this soon before the fires could do any more damage. Fielding another blow he caught it with his blades but instead of bracing himself he let the blow carry him smoothly sideways, knocking the man off balance. As he raged and stumbled forward, Mathias followed after him and with one economically placed swipe, he opened the man's throat up, the arterial spray hitting another raider in the face - likely the man had meant to aid his friend, only to then be bathed in the man's blood.

Mathias watched as terror set into the man's eyes as he watched the corpse hit the ground and lay unmoving. The scream that ripped out of that man was one that Mathias has heard many times before. Loss, fury, fear, hoplessness. He braced himself for the impact of blade but instead the man turned and ran, fleeing for the treeline. Before he even made it three yard there was a crossbolt in his back, and then two more.

The battle was over, the raiders were trying to flee, and mostly failing. The workers of the lodge had set up a chain of buckets from the nearby stream to put out the fires. He's in the middle of cleaning his blades when a well built woman with greying hair comes toward him. "Well you came down like a very pointy avenging angel. Alanna Holton, my thanks for taking out their leader."

He took her offered hand and shakes it after sheathing his blades, "Mathias Shaw."

With the widening of her eyes he can tell the name is recognized. "Wait here, please Spymaster. I've got an inn fire to put out." She was off then, rushing on to help her workers organize.

Taking himself to the treeline he was barely in range of the underbrush when Shadowtalon trampled over a berry bush to reach him, butting her head into his chest with enough force to make him catch himself or risk falling over. "There there girl, you did well."

Holton finds him in the middle of watering and feeding Shadowtalon to calm her from the excitement, tucked in next to a lightly singed caravan near the Gryphon master's stand. "Thank you for your aid again, Spymaster. We've got some help coming in from Boralus now. Is there anything we can do for you, or were you just sight-seeing?"

With Shadowtalon beak deep in chicken innards, he considers the downtime this little sidetrack is going to cost. While swift and feisty, Shadowtalon was also prone to battle-lust, and he didn't much favor the idea of taking her on a covert scouting mission with her feathers ruffled like this. She might try and divebomb the Horde and that would not suit his needs at all.

"I was scouting something along the Drustvar's edge, but I'll need to wait now for my gryphon to recover."

Carefully reaching out the middle-aged woman gave Shadowtalon a pat, holding her hand there she was obviously testing the mood of the beast. With his own hand buried in the soft feathers under her cheek he could already feel what she was looking for, the fine thrum of energy and a creature well worked up. "This one of Boralus' Gryphons?" She asked and he nodded in turn, "I'll have my man tether her to a line and send her flying to wear her out for you and then bed her down. I'd offer you our gryphon on loan but we sent him off to Boralus to call for aid and he's down for his own recovery."

"Thank you, that will have to do."

"The inn isn't likely to collapse in on itself and the fires all out now, you're hardly dressed for the weather, Master Shaw, please go settle yourself by the hearth while we take care of your gryphon." She smiled at him and gave him a bow before she was off, her shouted orders carrying across to workers and hunters alike, with a tone that commanded to be followed.

It was not until he was in the quiet of the inn that the actual chill of the outside air hit him. With the heat of the room around him closing in like a firm blanket he found himself biting down a shiver. Sweat from activity and also the abated adrenaline left him trembling and he settled down near the hearth of the fireplace, sinking into a chair with a cushion settled atop it. Around him was the bustle of many being tended to. Bandages and burn salves, a lone priest doing his best to take care of the ones worse off. He watches, letting the scene roll over him, only to find a steaming mug shoved into his hands by one of the workers. Taking a whiff proved the beverage to be hot cocoa and he sipped at it, leaning himself back to then settle the warmth of the mug over his chest.

He'd have to go on foot, likely. Which meant sending word to Wrymbane about his change of plans. Pulling his map out he balanced his mug on one knee and planned the best route to take. The Old Drust road would carry him through to Vigil Hill, and from there he could cut over to the coast. On foot it would take a number of hours all told unless he wanted to run the entire way, which he did not - only now regretting the roof-top run he'd taken after dinner with Fl- Captain Fairwind.

Bringing out his writing kit he pens first a missive to Wyrmbane and then begins the more laborious process of encrypting messages to his agents in Boralus. Thrice his mug is refilled as he works, while the bustle of the tiny inn flows over him. The fireplace was kept blazing and in no time the cold that had permeated him fled to be replaced by bone-deep warmth and contentment, he would not relish leaving his place before the fire when it was time to go.

"Shift switch!" The strong commanding voice of Holton filled up the inn after some time and Mathias looked up to see the tired forms of Boralus dockworkers and guards come in, sooty and wet. To his surprise among them was a familiar form, Fairwind's sure frame coming to slump against a wall, charming smile alighting on the lady to hand him a mug identical to Mathias' own. And as if feeling the weight of his gaze, Flynn's attention turned from the inn worker to meet Mathias and hold, a look of pleased surprise passing over his ever-expressive face. Despite the way he'd leaned on the wall looking like a cat drug from the Stormwind canals he bounded up to Mathias' chair like an energetic puppy. His cocoa splashed over his sooty knuckles as he plopped himself on the stones of the hearth.

"Fancy meeting you here, Master Shaw, come often?" Fairwind batted his lashes at him and Mathias applied himself to sealing his letters. "Shouldn't you be asleep on top of your paperwork or something?"

"There's something I needed to check up on along the Drustvar coast." Draining his mug he handed it to Fairwind who was tricked into taking it, before standing.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Fairwind asked, peering into the empty mug. Someone was trying to put a blanket around his shoulders but he was too busy scrambling up after Mathias to let them do it properly so they gave up on him.

"Whatever you'd like." He isn't much surprised to find Fairwind following his steps out, it was too much to ask that the man be exhausted from helping out, at least too exhausted to hound him.

[nonbinaryventing]

TW ED. Venting with my journal entries. #1 09/16/2021

It's the same cycle daily. Wake up. Stay in bed for another hour or two just scrolling through different apps on my phone attempting to escape reality. And now we’re caught up to me now. Debating whether or not to go eat breakfast, it would be easier just to skip.

500 calories a day, 800 max

Go over the amount workout to burn it off

Can still workout even if I don’t go over the amount, less calories the better

I’ll get something to eat I guess, even though I really don’t want too and I know i'll just end up regretting it as I always do. I head to the kitchen and search around for something to eat that won’t kill my calorie intake, but also won’t get my parents wondering. I grab 2 eggs and make them over-easy. Salt and Pepper. Water. (140)

After I eat I head to the bathroom, remove what would have been my water weight, and step on the scale. I watch as the numbers go up and up. 103.6. Not bad, it went down again thankfully. At this rate, I can get down to 95 in no time. I proceed to log what I ate and my weight into the weight-loss app. I have my goal set to 100 on it but don’t worry, that’ll go down as soon as i hit it.

I’m two days into my workout routine, I’m nonbinary and I want more of a masculine figure. It just sucks that I’ll probably need a high calorie intake to make myself actually look more masculine and get the build that I want, but I can’t do that so we’ll just make do with what we have.

My workout routine as of now:

Stretch Briefly

Push-ups, as many as I can. I did 20 last night, 2 reps of 10. (Decreases chest fat, increases chest muscles)

Bicep curls, this one was a bitch to get through. 20 on each arm, then work up my goal. 5-10 reps on each arm, sets of 10. (Increase bicep/arm muscles)

Armpit row. I believe I did 15 reps and 5 sets. These were difficult. (Arm strength increases, it focuses on deltoids/trap and back muscles)

Standing dumbbell press. I think I did 10 reps and 5 sets of these. (Chest, shoulder, and back muscles) (should be able to see collarbones more the longer i do this for)

Scissor kicks. Oh my god these were difficult, especially since my scoliosis had my spine stabbing into the exercise mat underneath me, and god it felt like I was going to collapse. 4 sets and reps of 25. (Lower abs and leg muscles) (after a month my leg muscles should be more defined)

Air cycling. Wasn’t too too hard, a little painful. I did this for a total of 6-7 minutes, or the duration of 2 songs. (Abs and leg muscles)

Wide arcs. It burned a little bit, but wasn’t too hard. I believe I either did 2 or 3 sets of 10 reps. One rep for me is going to each side once. (Abs and Legs)

Hip Raises. HOLY FUCK this one hurt so so much. I didn’t expect it to hurt that much, but once I hit 30 I just lied on the floor about to cry, lol. I should do 30-50 reps on each leg. (Butt and Leg Muscles) (should lose an inch of hip fat)

And that's basically it. It took me about an hour and a half, but I know it’ll get easier over time. I’m not sure how many calories I burned, I’m going to try to figure that out now.

Pushups: about 2-3 minutes (-9 calories)

Bicep Curls: I think about 20-30 minutes, Ill time it all tonight. (-130 calories)

Armpit Row: Think 10 minutes (-21 calories)

Standing Dumbbell Press: 15 minutes (-78)

Scissor Kicks: 4 minutes (-23)

Air Cycling: 6 minutes (-30)

Wide Arcs: 2 minutes (-12)

Hip Raises: 3 minutes (-20)

Total burned: 323

Yesterday I ate a total of 750 calories, which is too much. I feel a bit better knowing that it’s now down to 427. Under 500 calories. I did good, right?

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

It’s now nighttime, I apologize for not writing for the day. I skipped lunch, but ended up regressing and making up for those calories with sweets. What do I mean by regressing you may ask? Well I’m talking about age regression, basically where I mentally regress back to a younger- more innocent state of mind, usually ranging between 2 and 5/6 years of age. I had been numb for most of today and it was the only thing that could get me out of that- well besides creating line in my arms or thighs till the blood reminds me I’m alive, and the cut can help me realize that I can feel pain instead of well- nothing at all? But anyways, when I regress it can be voluntary or involuntary, and it's mostly involuntary for more, and when it happens I lose more control of myself and tend to eat when I really don’t want too even though im so hungry, please let me eat, please

I ended up eating one brookie/brownie cookie thing (150) and one chocolate fudge cookie thing (65) it was surprisingly l̶o̶w̶ less calories than I thought it would be.

We had burgers for dinner, luckily I had a veggie burger (124) which was less than a normal meat burger. In total with all the condiments and stuff, it was quite a disappointing number (333).

After dinner, I went out to go longboarding to burn some of the calories at least for 15 minutes before it got dark (-65). I got some cool pictures at least.

I finished up some schoolwork when I got home, had a snack(which was a mistake) popcorn (93/ my dad gave me too big of a portion) and a soda for the caffeine for later (150), then worked out. Also, hey I was right! It went a lot faster this time and I actually got it done in 40 minutes. It wasn’t as many calories burned as last time though unfortunately (-241)

I put all the numbers together and honestly it wasn’t great. Without the working out and longboarding, it was 9̶3̶1̶ and then I burned 306 calories in total. So I’m still left at 625 which is over 500 but not over 800, and that's okay I guess. Anyways I’m going to read a book for the night now, check in again tomorrow!

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

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 5: The Long Story

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽

They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.

They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby​ 

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Oblivionverse tag list!

⥼ Summary ⥽

Freed from the Order's clutches, reuniting with Kamilah after all this time isn't at all like Nadya had imagined it would be. But they all have some catching up to do... And what Kamilah has to say will change everything.

content warnings: language, canon-typical violence, blood

[READ IT ON AO3]

Did anyone else know Kamilah had an entire building as offices set up in pretty much every major city, or was she supposed to just… like… find this out on her own?

Walking through the doorway into a near-exact replica of the woman’s New York penthouse should feel like a relief. Between the practically-identical furniture and layout to the fact that Nadya’s pretty sure she hasn’t let go of some part of Kamilah since they had managed to get that awful cage open; she’d even go so far as to say it should feel like home.

But it doesn’t.

And even though she over-thinks every possible reason until her head hurts, Nadya just can’t figure out why.

“You’re sure they’re okay?” She asks again; not because something might have changed in the five minutes since she last pressed about how Brandon and Greer had gotten out of the Order’s raid alive, but because the repetition helps make it feel a little more real.

Only Jax has clearly reached his limit on the matter. “For the last time, yes. A few cuts and bruises but surprisingly they held their own. I keep telling you I got them out myself but since you refuse to believe me…”

“No no,” hastily, swallowing around her dry mouth, “I do. I just…”

“Blame yourself?”

And it’s clear from even the tiniest glance that’s not a weight she’s carrying alone. Not saying that makes it easier, but…

A familiar touch brushes through her hair and Nadya leans into it on instinct. Kamilah’s fingertips tickle the spot underneath her ear and the tension just sort of… oozes out of her shoulders. “I’ve arranged for their recovery in a safe place. One that cannot be connected to any of us, and free of our kind entirely.”

There’s a knowing glint in her eye when Nadya finally looks up. Thank god, if she could cry any more she just might, that means Gerard made it out okay.

They haven’t even sat down and already Adrian is ducking out onto the balcony, new burner phone already pressed to his ear and a familiar worry etched into his frown.

“I guess Serafine was friends with the owner of the club where you were…” Cadence doesn’t say the words ‘attacked,’ ‘kidnapped,’ or any variation thereof for which Nadya is immensely grateful. “So when we had a solid lead on where you two had been taken, Adrian all but insisted she stay behind and help see to the injured.”

She’s almost hesitant to ask. “How did you find us, anyway?”

After all, the ride back to central London had been long. Well… long for a starving vampire and an exhausted human anyway. The Order had gotten them at least an hour out before the rescue team had swooped in and saved the night.

Her question is met with a long pause. Any other time Nadya might have guessed he was just gearing up for one of his long-winded explanations of this tracking method or that mysterious contact in the shadows. Not this time though.

Not when he pauses mid-step and knocks his shin into the dark-stained wooden corner of the coffee table.

She tries to meet his eyes but something off near the kitchen is far more important. Nadya glances over her shoulder to the sight of Kamilah in the doorway, frozen like a statue with an expression just as stony.

She catches the faintest shake of the woman’s head right before Cadence plasters on a smile a little too wide to be sincere.

“That doesn’t matter now. You’re safe, so best not to dwell.”

“Bullshit.” mutters Lily beside her, and Nadya reaches up to pet her head on her shoulder in solidarity.

There are definitely more questions to ask.

Questions like where the hell did Kamilah come from?

Or weren’t Cade and Serafine supposed to be leading their hunters on a false trail towards literally anywhere else?

And, possibly the most dire of them all, how close are those same hunters now that we’re all in a pretty conspicuous not-so-safe house?

All of them good questions, objectively. But they will have to wait.

Kamilah returns from the kitchen bearing a sterling silver serving tray. Steam and the familiar scent of Gerard’s favorite herbal tea tickles at the tip of her nose; she’s grabbing for it before the tray even meets the table.

Beside the cup and saucer is a blood bag, and not for the first time does Nadya find herself wondering why they didn’t think to hide out here sooner.

You’d think with the scabbing skin still slightly smoky around her wrists and the clear bags under her eyes that Lily would dive into the offered meal like it’s Taco Tuesday… which is something Nadya will now never be able to unsee, which is awesome. She doesn’t though.

Doesn’t even reach for it. Just stares at the thick plastic and how it catches the light overhead silent and transfixed.

And Lily’s not the only one.

Across from them Kamilah sits, rigid and alert. Jax grasps the back of an armchair with white knuckles and a set jaw. Even Cadence bites at his thumb nail with nerves he’s probably not even conscious of.

Nadya sets her teacup down to quell the sudden tremor in her grip.

It’s obvious from the sweat on her upper lip and the slits that were her pupils that Lily needs this.

What she doesn’t need is the pressure.

“Am I supposed to be waiting for Raines to nab a seat for the show?” She bites out, fangs clenched together. She’s making a conscious effort to keep her lips over her top row of teeth which muddles her words a bit.

Unfortunately nobody seems to get the hint to back off but Cadence, who silently decides to go join Adrian instead… with the balcony door closed firmly behind him.

Kamilah and Jax exchange a long look. No words; just quirked eyebrows and Kamilah’s inclined head.

Jax takes his cue and comes around to sit, elbows on his knees and every inch of the ‘stern parental figure’ look resolute on his weary face.

“It was life or death — for all of us. No plan, no escape; I want you to know I think you did the right thing, no matter what. It was kill or be killed.”

Familiar words for them all. They make Nadya’s hand clench into a fist on her lap. She shoves it between her legs at the knees.

This isn’t about her right now.

Lily raises her chin defensively. “You got a point there, Jax?”

Oooh this is bad. Very very baaaad.

“I saw something during the fight.” He laces his fingers together between his spread legs. “And it might’ve just been the chaos, the adrenaline… But if there’s even a chance it wasn’t…”

“Lemme clear that up for you.”

Lily snatches the bag faster than Nadya can blink. Faster than Kamilah and Jax seem to have expected, too; judging by their startled looks.

Faster than a vampire her age and in her condition should be moving, in summary.

She holds nothing back. Brighter eyes a little too much on the edge of carnal looking at the promise of sustenance with glee right before she sinks both sets of fangs in deep. It pops and ruins all future mental images of water balloons for Nadya in the process. But even through her messy eating Lily doesn’t spill a single drop.

Jax leans back and sighs with something like relief, but everything else on his face says the complete opposite. “It was just a flash,” he mumbles as if to himself, “and with everything going on I swore it was a trick of the lights. But then they took you and…”

“The Order is not in the habit of leaving survivors,” Kamilah explains for him; and she would know, “let alone taking captives.”

Lily drops the bag into her lap when she finishes — when there’s literally nothing left inside. Like… not even the weird little blood bubbles left. She looks like she wants to rip it open like a bag of hot cheetos and lick the insides just in case.

On the plus side, her wounds are already starting to heal. New skin fresh and practically glowing.

And thankfully not tinged that Feral-like grey.

“Well they’re good at it, habit or not. Their tech is so high it makes high tech look like dial-up.” She rubs at her wrists; the ghost of the memory dark in her now-human eyes. “And it sucked butts and all but…” how is there a ‘but’ to this of all things?I

“But even I’m not gonna say it wasn’t probably the only thing that kept us alive in the end. So. That’s all I’ll give them — only because we didn’t, you know, get shipped off to some vampire-Guantanamo Bay.”

A heavy silence hangs over them then. Nadya can’t even imagine what the club must look like now — what it must have looked like when Adrian and Jax had finished their share of the fight only to look up, look around, and see no sign of either of them. All the ash, all the bodies… and one of them, Nadya remembers with much displeasure, that she was even responsible for.

Kamilah doesn’t let the moment doesn’t last long though. Good, she really doesn’t need that flashback right now.

“Now that we’ve come to the inevitable source of tension,” she hesitates; rocks pretty much everyone else’s world because no one would ever look at Kamilah Sayeed and consider she was even capable of feeling uncomfortable like she is right now, “perhaps now is the time for explanations of your own.”

And she looks to Lily as she says it but that’s not where she ought to be focusing that judging eye of hers. So Nadya bites the bullet and waves her hand slightly — the shaking helps it look a little more sincere. “Actually, Kamilah, if you’re looking for someone to blame that… that would be me.”

Neither Lily or Jax come to her defense. That tells Kamilah all she needs to know about whether Nadya’s serious or simply blaming herself as per usual. She shifts on her cushion; crosses one leg over the other at the knee and keeps her spine almost uncomfortably straight.

Not that any of her proper etiquette could even begin to prepare her for this. She forces the slight furrow from her brow before she speaks again.

“Very well Nadya. As succinctly as possible, if you would.”

But there’s really no succinct way to go about describing what went down in the King’s Manor. From trying to keep Adrian’s privacy by glossing over his meltdown that led the crypt-Ferals to find and surround them all to how badly Nadya had gotten injured during their escape; to everything still kinda fuzzy but no less terrifying about their confrontation with the Duchess in the cathedral and… and what all that had meant…

Kamilah holds up a calm hand to interrupt her. Nadya closes her mouth so fast her teeth click on the still-swollen part of her cut lower lip. She winces but toughs it out.

“You’re sure you weren’t caught between the reality of the moment and a memory? You actually spoke to a…” But she can’t say it. Even Kamilah’s surprised she can’t say it. Sure it breaks all the rules they’ve known for centuries and implies terrible horrible tragic things — lives that could have been saved and fates that could have been changed — but that’s just another Tuesday for them.

So she just nods once. After a glance to Jax and Lily and their unnerving solemnity… still, Kamilah struggles to wrap her mind around the concept.

“I see. Please… continue.”

The color drains from Nadya’s face when she realizes what comes next. Thankfully Kamilah takes it as her usual anxiety; there’s an empathy lurking in the cool depths of her eyes that says I understand, you’ve been through so much, and I wasn’t there to protect you that Nadya feels more than understands. But that’s more than enough… or it would be if that were the thing she didn’t want to talk about.

Jax clears his throat and comes to her rescue. “We figured it was a long shot. But if whatever makes her blood special was strong enough to undo centuries of insanity on a fully-fledged Feral, then maybe it was strong enough to stop Lily from getting to that point at all.”

We. He means Cynbel of course.

But Kamilah looks rattled enough. The last thing they need is her going outside for a breather and pushing Cadence over the balcony railing.

So with Jax’s help they manage to piece together a sound-enough truth for the vampiress that she doesn’t feel the gaping holes in their memories. One that gives importance to the things that matter, like Lily and her shiny new fangs and the importance of their discovery.

And one that omits things like Nadya accidentally did the thing you were afraid of from the moment you met the man, the thing you wouldn’t tell anyone about; the reason the Trinity is tangled up in all this and puts us last in terms of millennia-old vampires on our side.

At the end of it all nobody knows what to expect, least of all Nadya. She has fifteen different kinds of apologies on the tip of her tongue and runs the risk of all of them spilling out at once.

Kamilah doesn’t let her get nearly that deep in, though.

She turns bodily back to Lily with indescribably scrutiny. “And how do you feel, then?”

“Do I feel like a monster, you mean?”

“No,” she continues clipped; terse, “if I had even an inkling to that being the case you would not be here as you are. But think back to your… first Turning.”

It settles around them thickly in the air that there’s a very good chance nobody in the history of vampire-kind has ever said that and meant it the way Kamilah does now. The importance of it gives her the responsibility to continue. “How does it feel this time; knowing what you are, what has made you this way? My concern here, Lily, is the threat you may unknowingly pose to yourself more than any threat you may be to others. The latter can be dealt with easily.

“But if you feel different? If your soul feels… different, then we must act now in the early days. While we still can.”

Act now. What a kind way to imply such a terrible deed.

Lily throws a sideways glance at Nadya before she speaks. After all they’d already had this talk, right? “I do feel different,” and she cuts Jax off before he can even open his mouth with a finger held up and a shake of her head, “no, I have the right to finish. Because I do feel different. I am different. But I don’t feel any less like myself Kamilah, and I know that’s what you mean.”

“The answer need not be so plainly given. In fact I think we would all prefer if you took time to be absolutely certain.”

“It’s my soul and my body. I think I’m pretty fucking certain.” There’s a harder edge to her voice now. Anger bubbling beneath the surface but not in a way that bares teeth or fangs. Just real and pure anger — the kind without an outlet. “I may not have had a choice in anything that’s happened to me so far but I do now. So either you take my answer here and now or you never really planned on believing me anyway.”

It’s a bold accusation. Makes Kamilah blink, lips pursed… before she gives Lily a short and curt nod.

“Very well. The only one fully able to doubt you is yourself. Especially given your… circumstances.”

Lily clicks her tongue in a “tch,” at the word but that’s all. No, really, that’s all. Everyone’s content to drop it there not just because they have nothing more to say but because they don’t want to add to it.

Things are tense enough as it is.

A tension which breaks when the balcony door slides open and the four of them watch Adrian and Cadence return with a hesitant melancholy. Kamilah quirks an inquiring look at Adrian; he runs his palm down his face with a heavy-hearted sigh.

“She wants to stay and help as much as she can,” he answers her unasked question about Serafine and her whereabouts, “and just asked me to call if we had a solid lead on what to do next. She’s pushing herself a little too hard, but I get where she’s coming from. Even if I wish she’d take it easy.”

Kamilah’s brow furrows. “The final confrontation with Antony left her with more than a simple injury. But alas, I can’t say I’m surprised at her tenacity.”

Antony. Just the man’s name brings all the events in Paris flooding back to the front of Nadya’s mind. The Order was a looming threat — probably now more than ever too — but the immediate one was like… two thousand times worse.

Four thousand if they’re counting Isseya alongside.

“So you’ve caught them up then,” asks Cadence, “on… everything?”

He gives a particular look Nadya’s way that she’s very much not a fan of. It gives her a gut feeling she’d thought—hoped, fleetingly—that they had left behind when they fled Paris. The one where everyone around her knows something about her that she doesn’t know — something they’re trying to spare her from.

Her stomach gurgles in agreement as all the knots start to collide with each other. She slides a hand over her middle and looks away from him before it gets any worse.

Kamilah face twitches in the barest flicker of irritation; schooling her expression with practiced ease but that’s just another mask. Just another cover-up. “I had not yet found the opportunity… Cadence.” She says his name in the same clipped and terse way Serafine does. Like her tongue is trained to know better. Her brain not falling for a trick played on her eyes. But that’s not the case anymore.

“I’m hoping it has something to do with why Isseya led us to believe Gaius had executed you.”

There’s an unfinished argument in the way Adrian looks at his mentor and friend. Kamilah tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and nods. “Indeed. I promised you answers when the time was right.”

“When we got Nadya and Lily back.”

“Yes—that needed to remain paramount to anything you may feel compelled to do in the near future.” When I tell you what I know, that’s what she doesn’t say. And she’s definitely got their attention now. All of them watching, waiting; silent and with Nadya on bated breath.

“It was an unnecessary evil; one I would not have gone through with had I any other choice. But we knew the fight was lost — that we had been betrayed by some of our last contacts in the Northeast. Between Miss Espinoza and myself —”

“Why isn’t she with you?”

Lily interrupts unabashedly. Judging by the look bordering on sympathy Kamilah gives her (disturbing in and of itself but about this… well there’s a brand new knot that joins the rest) she was expecting this to happen.

“Because she knew one of us needed to stay behind, much like before when it was you who we sent on ahead.”

“Why does that feel like a cop out excuse?”

“Because it doesn’t nearly begin to paint the picture of the truth.”

“You’re one of the handful of oldest bones roaming the earth Kamilah,” Lily snaps, though she catches herself — her anger — and does her best to reel it in before they have to revisit their earlier talk too darn soon, “excuse me for not believing that out of the pair of you she was the one could do more good if she stayed behind.”

There’s a war across Jax’s expression, half a thought forming on his lips before Kamilah raises a soft hand to stay him.

“No, she’s right. And that continues to weigh heavy on my conscience. But if you would let me continue then perhaps you may find comfort in the nobility in her actions rather than the cowardice in mine.”

Lily mulls it over with grinding teeth. She does eventually relent; sagging against her seat with her arms over her chest. That blue cuff Nadya bought her on their first night in Paris caught between thumb and forefinger like a totem that doesn’t quite bring the peace it should.

“As long as you’re aware of your being a coward.”

“Kamilah’s many things — but a coward…” Adrian looks to her like she’ll pick up defending herself where he leaves off. She doesn’t. So he falls quiet as well, falls in line just like the rest of them. They’ve done enough interrupting.

Anyone else, asks Kamilah silent and with nothing but a single raised eyebrow. No one dares, not now.

“It was not an ideal decision, nor was it the smartest. But we were forced to choose the lesser of two evils. Either we could act impulsive and with little thought and hope it would be enough to skirt by, or we could stand and do nothing, be nothing, and watch every effort to fight back be reduced to nothing before our very eyes.

“I said already that we had no allies left. That is only partially true. None that we could fully trust… but in dire circumstances one does what they must to keep their eye not on the battle, but on the war.” She takes a moment for herself; a long silence before she manages to look Adrian in the eye with the weight of her remorse. “I convinced Marcel to grant me access to the secret tunnels beneath his castle upstate.”

“That’s where Gaius is holding his Court, isn’t it?” Nadya asks; and earns herself a genuinely surprised look from Kamilah.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“It’s a long story…” Please don’t make me tell it now.

And she’s grateful that Kamilah doesn’t. Because she gets it. “It seems most of them are these days…” But back to this one for now.

“I hope he will find it in his heart one day to forgive me. We’ve known one another for many centuries, Marcel and I. But needs must.”

Adrian rubs his mouth slowly, like he can feel her guilt in his bones. “At least tell me it was worth it.”

She nods; the entire room sighs in relief.

“Gaius holds his Court in much the same way he used to. The same pomp and fanfare but with different faces in the same roles. Priya sits at his side as some self-appointed princess,” and Kamilah is well within her rights to sneer the word like she does, “while Cecil’s men act as some adjunct guard service. Marcel is there, as was to be expected. And rarely is Valdemaras allowed to stray from his sight.”

Cadence shifts uncomfortably at the name. “The few times I got Isseya to open up, she made it sound like he was being held hostage. Insurance, almost.”

“If there’s one thing Gaius excels at it is finding the weaknesses of others and exploiting them to his own ends. I won’t say the Trinity are without fault; they haven’t exactly made it difficult to determine what they care about the most…”

And in a startling turn of events she actually does the exact opposite of what Nadya would expect of the Kamilah they had left behind. She’d fully anticipated the woman turning away both literally and symbolically; angling her own weaknesses away from Nadya where they’re the most vulnerable.

Instead she and Nadya lock eyes across the table. Pain, frustration, relief deep enough in honey-flecked irises and pupils dark and deep enough for her to drown in. Wouldn’t be a bad way to go, would it?

“But in this case their cooperation is just as damning as their complacency.” The moment passes. Nadya watches her walls go back up from the outside.

“I’m all for a bit of recon,” cracking his knuckles for something to ease his nerves, Jax leans in before she can resume, “but get to the point Kamilah. What the hell does Gaius want with Nadya?”

She doesn’t immediately answer. Adrian, though, looks at the younger vampire like he’s grown a second head. “What would possibly make you think it has anything to do with Nadya?”

What makes you think it doesn’t?

“What about this points to literally anything else, Raines?” Jax answers with a question of his own. One of the few rare times he and Nadya seem to be on the same page about all this.

Before he can make things worse Adrian bites his tongue. That he doesn’t have an answer is written in the worry lines on his fact.

“The guy sent two millennias-old vampires to hunt her down. Her, not you or Sayeed or anyone in this room who could actually pose a threat to him.” There’s a second where he almost looks like he might give Nadya the no offense card but she just avoids eye contact instead.

He’s fine with that. “I’ve had coincidences enough in the last few months for several lifetimes over. This, Kamilah suddenly showing up in the middle of it, isn’t one of them.

“Is it, Sayeed?”

“No, Jax, it’s not.” Though she might have put it in kinder terms; tried to spare certain mortals in the room.

“Then get to the damn point.”

Before things hit a boiling point Nadya coughs into her fist; fake and loud and with more voice than necessary but it works so that’s all that matters. “I can handle it Kamilah,” like she’s got any idea if that’s what holds the woman back; she doesn’t — but this is bigger than her, “I bet it doesn’t even make it in my top 3 of weird since we left.”

She tries to break a smile and ends up with a weak and strained grimace instead.

“Very well. Nadya, Gaius wants you returned to him, at his Court and in front of his subjects, alive and human.”

“I kn—”

“Because he plans to kill you. He plans to Turn you himself.”

Paris, Several Nights Ago…

“All the risks I have taken for you and you still return here?”

She keeps her voice to a low hiss in his ear; a viper full of venom in her fangs despite how she seems very intent on crushing him like some type of constrictor.

Not that she needs to whisper. Doubtful that their accomplices on either side of the fight can hear or see much beyond their frenzied duel somewhere around the alley corner. Steel scrapes against steel and rings out like church bells. Followed by the now-familiar battle cry of Serafine as she rushes in for the kill.

A kill she always tries for — yet always seems to fall short of the mark.

But even with Antony out of immediate sight Isseya doesn’t pull her punches when she sends Cadence flying back into the nearest building wall. His neck cracks uncomfortably, the brick behind him split in several places and just barely indented with his large and sprawling frame. But he shakes it off like he has all of her other attacks. He really has no choice but to do anything else.

He tries to look apologetic as he brushes red dust from the shoulders of his jacket. “It’s just the way things worked out, Isseya.”

“Don’t say my name.”

“I —” He can never tell with her. In Prague she was benevolent. In Rome she speared a rather heavy branch just a couple inches from his heart. In Venice she had him pinned against the wall, could very well have snapped his neck into unconsciousness or the unthinkable worse, but had pressed her lips hard-near-bruising to his temple before vanishing into the night instead.

Why is it they always end up grappling with one another, leaving Serafine and Antony to continue their seemingly endless duel? It makes sense in Cadence’s head that they’d get better results if they switched dance partners.

Another scraaape of swords comes from one alley over. If he’s going to try and convince her now is about the last chance he has left.

“You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“Says a man who has nothing to lose.”

“I think we both know that’s not the case.”

Isseya grits her fangs. Suddenly she can’t look him in the eyes. “If you wish to waste the windows of opportunity I give you, Cadence, then there’s nothing more I can do.”

He watches and waits; sees her momentary distraction for the advantage as it is and strikes. He pins Isseya to the other side of the narrow alley, forearm pushed tight against her throat. A move meant to hold her still more than anything else; one of those moments Serafine calls him foolish for.

The ones where he tries to reason with a woman who has none left to give.

“You could have killed Antony a dozen times over by now,” he growls, “but you cling to the lie that Gaius’ way is the only way. Why, Isseya? Why won’t you… Why won’t you let me help you?”

His voice cracks at the end. They both notice, thankfully they can both ignore it too — what with the seconds they have left alone ticking down faster and faster.

There it is — just a flicker, but that doesn’t make it any less real. The smallest chip in her composure; proof that every effort in every city, every bruise and broken bone and every pleaded attempt he’s mustered hasn’t been for nothing… not quite yet.

“Because I cannot lose another,” her voice a whisper on his skin, “I would not survive it. I can still save him even if… even if…”

Even if you are lost to me forever.

Isseya shoves him back.

Cadence lets her, god help him if you ask him why.

“Antony’s a smart man,” she says instead; it takes the other a moment to realize she’s continuing a conversation they had started more than a week ago. In an alley much like this on the far side of Berlin, “he figured out a long time ago that you two are nothing but distractions meant to divert our course. No doubt he is all but convinced I had something to do with your first escape… but without proof he won’t risk my beloved’s wrath.

“Not with something as valuable as the Bloodkeeper —”

“Nadya.”

“What?”  

Cadence huffs through clenched teeth. “Her name is Nadya. She’s a person, not a thing. So stop saying that word like it keeps her from being a living, breathing human being.”

Whatever he had expected her to do, it couldn’t have been close to the laugh his words elicit. Nor how Isseya looks at him with her chin raised and a newfound challenge in her eyes.

“I love it when you do that.”

She steps forward. Cadence steps back. The brick molds perfectly against him like a shadow.

“Do what, exactly?”

“That,” with a flippant gesture, “that thing where you’re so unlike him without even trying. It makes it easier to keep up the chase.” Just like it will make it easier to end things the same way.

Over their heads a shadow eclipses the moon. The pair look up to see the rapidly-moving forms of their companions, still locked in an argument all their own that will soon inevitably catch the attentions of one or more late-night Parisians.

“If Antony knows the others are long gone then why do you continue tracking us?” He snaps in her face to draw Isseya’s attention. There’s a sickening feeling Cadence can’t place — like this will be the last time he’ll be able to get anything out of her until the tides turn. “Why not continue your mission?”

He takes advantage of the proximity between them and searches her eyes earnest and open. He even dares — risks it all, really — and lets his fingertips ghost the inside of her wrist where it hesitates just shy of holding him hostage.

The moment passes between them like a live wire. Not for the first time, and if the universe intends on royally screwing all of them over before this is done then Cadence is certain it won’t be the last. But her sympathy, like her sanity, isn’t Isseya’s to control. It’s not even at her whim.

Serafine’s cutlass flies through the air and clatters loudly to the pavement beside them.

Too late — the moment is shattered.

Isseya flinches back. Yanks her arm away from him like his touch is a burning brand. Before she can say anything else there’s a cry from above. Serafine’s body follows the path of her sword almost perfectly; a swan dive without the water to break her fall and when she collides with the earth it’s to the tune of her breaking bones.

Time’s up.

Cadence’s jeans scrape and wear at the knees as he skids to Serafine’s side and aid.

He gently turns her over, checking for anything worse than the odd angle of her shoulder socket and the deep cut struggling to stitch itself closed along the curve of her jaw. She groans softly in weak protest.

“Ever think about ditching the sword for something a little more permanent?” He mumbles, half to himself and half as a laugh. It’s something Kathy would do — he’s had that thought several times through their ordeal.

It’s actually a greater source of comfort than he can begin to describe.

Unlike Serafine, her opponent joins them from the rooftop with a stalwart kind of grace. His footfalls barely a tap-tap as he lands just shy of a crouch. Fluid movement in how he stands and makes his way to Isseya’s side. His blade — an old Roman gladius, because Cadence has learned from experience that the older they are the more they tend to lean into the cliche — catches a glinting silver on the distant street lamp. Bright all except where the metal is dotted dark red with blood.

“Good thing we aren’t keeping score, old friend.” Antony remarks. His face twitches in a sick kind of satisfaction as together their hunters watch Cadence help Serafine up, her arm slung over his shoulders to bear the burden of her while she forces her body to heal on her time, rather than its own.

“Unless you wish to count this as an extension of our Nassau campaign, of course.”

“How did the Romans ever get anything conquered if all you do is talk?” Cadence remarks; though his own injuries aren’t as severe in the moment it would be foolish of him not to acknowledge how the constant running and chasing and fighting and more running and the cycle unending has taken its toll.

Antony’s brow twitches; he’s barely given Cadence a second glance since the last time they were in this very city. Not that he’s complaining… seeing as his turn with the brutal General seems to be looming inevitably closer now.

There’s a sickening pop too close to his ears but Cadence resists the urge to flinch. Slowly Serafine steadies herself on her own two feet, grabbing her cutlass from the alley floor to grasp the handle tightly and with the same unwavering conviction.

“He’s right Antony,” and even weak as she is she manages a voice like velvet; crooning in her mockery, “you must be getting soft in your old age. I don’t remember this much chatting in Nassau.”

It would be infinitely more impressive if they seemed to have actually unnerved the man. Instead he’s somehow more impassive than ever.

Beside him, Isseya gives a short and exasperated huff of frustration. “You know you cannot keep this up for much longer, Dupont. Doubtful you’d even last the midnight flight to your next safe home.” She steps forward — tries and fails to mask the pain that comes over her as she watches Cadence throw his arm across the other woman’s front as a shield.

“Just tell us where they’ve taken the Bloodkeeper. One little location… we won’t even bring you back to Court. We will leave you to lick your wounds in the gutters as freemen.”

“Doubtful though, that it would last very long.” Muttered in muted amusement beside her; there’s a dangerous thing to be implied in Antony’s words and eyes.

All the more reason to keep this going for as long as possible.

Serafine snaps her fangs. “Why does Gaius even want her?” The same question she’s asked before; and will continue to ask until they manage to piece together an answer from the scraps they’re given.

“There are hundreds of psychics more skilled he could have.”

“You know the Bloodkeeper is no ordinary psychic.”

“Nor is she a formidable threat to someone of Gaius’ age and skill.” Serafine looks to Isseya imploringly. There’s a lot to be said for the fact that the less sane of the pair is the more reasonable one. “You’ve been in her mind, Isseya. And don’t think I didn’t see the damage your snake of a progeny did there, either. Whatever Gaius would want with her will no doubt go beyond what she’s capable of at her age!”

The Trinity vampire gives a callous shrug. “It’s no concern of mine.”

Beside her Antony’s shoulders shift slightly — it takes more than a fair moment for them to realize he’s laughing. Somehow he was less intimidating with the large broadsword raised and ready than… this.

“If you had any idea what she really was… who she could be…” Antony clicks his tongue, glancing off to the side as if to say ‘you are no threat, I don’t even have to keep you in my sights.’

“No doubt you and anyone else who stands against him would be singing a different tu—”

The dagger, slender as it is sharp and keenly disguised without flair in the darkness, barely so much whistles through the air before the blade strikes true. Embedding itself deep in the vampire’s back just to the side of his spine as if in warning. Light as a feather but enough to throw the ancient vampire slightly off-kilter.

He stumbles on his words — rare for a man like him — and staggers one, two steps forward from the shock of it.

“You were always better suited for the stage, domine. What with the way you’re always running your mouth.”

The flash in his eyes, red and bright and vicious is enough to make it clear that Antony recognizes that voice. In fact if he thinks about it Cadence recognizes it too. As Isseya does, as Serafine does. But it shouldn’t be possible — the look he and his injured companion exchange long and in silent awe is proof enough of that. It should not be possible.

And yet.

Despite the odd angle at which the dagger rests deep in his back Antony manages to pry it free with a strange sort of grace. The kind befitting a man of his age and his role in the history of the world… always on the battlefield in some form or another. It slips from his flesh and muscle with a wet noise; catches the light in a strange array of glinting silver and crimson where it catches the light when he looks it over with cool indifference.

Anyone so well-immersed in their kind would know these blades from sight alone; who they belong to and exactly what kind of darkness they’ve invited in alongside it. Antony, of course, is no different.

By all accounts it seems to do nothing more than bore him. “And here I was under the blissful impression I would never again have to hear your snide and unjust superiority, Sayeed.”

His words are punctuated with the hollow metallic clatter of the dagger dropped from his hand and left abandoned by his feet. As inconsequential as the rest of the rubbish strewn up and down the narrow alleyway.

But when Antony finally turns towards the shadows to face the emerging Kamilah, that boredom is all but a fleeting dream. The hardness in his eyes is unmistakable. Already the gears are turning in his mind — evaluating the terrain, the advantages he has and even more importantly the ones he does not. It’s what’s kept him alive this long, that much is obvious.

Though judging by the way the former Bloodqueen looks him up and down positively murderous that may not be enough to save him this time around.

Her eyes never leave Antony’s, but Kamilah raises her voice to speak over the stone wall of him.

“You look a little winded there, Serafine. I do hope you haven’t lost your touch with a blade.”

Serafine who offers a meager, wispy laughter in reply. “I should hope not, Kamilah darling, but here we are.”

There’s a tic in Antony’s jaw. His teeth grind together audibly.

“I see the rumors of your demise aren’t the certainty they were made out to be.” And none of the vampires gathered miss the look he flits to his companion in the dark — barely even a twitch of his head but oh so damning nonetheless.

After all, it had been Isseya who told them — told Adrian and Nadya and Cadence himself — that there had been no survivors of Gaius’ final assault on New York’s remaining vampires.

No survivors typically means, well, no survivors.

But Kamilah Sayeed would be the exception to the rule.

She isn’t foolish enough to avoid Antony any longer than she needs to. “If I didn’t know better I would swear you almost seem glad of it, domine.”

“Glad of the opportunity to pry you like a thorn from my side, perhaps.”

Are they seriously bantering right now? Cadence shifts and holds Serafine closer when he feels her weight sag against him just shy of fully collapsing.

They stalk one another in the narrow space. Apex predators in the shadows — neither of them yielding or backing down; that simply isn’t their way.

But in the steely determination of their eyes Cadence swears — and maybe he’s just imagining it here, but he’s seen a lot of crazy things these last few weeks and this seems by far the least insane of them all — that a silent conversation passes between them. Not in their minds but in their movements and expressions. In centuries, millennia of history between them both. From when they served the same king to now, here, on opposite sides of the fight.

“One might wonder why a reputation such as yours would be so willing to vanish into thin air.” Antony muses low, practically under his breath. Kamilah blows a single strand of hair out of her eyes — the only part of her out of place.

“Reputation means little with so much at stake.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when the Bloodqueen no longer cares what her subjects see when they come face to face with her.”

He’s goading Kamilah — that much is plain as day. But the part that stuns Cadence (and Serafine at his side, judging by the tension rippling tight through her shoulders and how she fights off the pain of her wounds and hunger like she’s preparing herself to jump back into the thick of it) the most… is how it’s working.

Whatever that silent not-conversation they’re having is about, it’s enough to rattle her. Well and truly.

Suddenly Antony stops. Kamilah’s hand tightens around the hilt of her dagger; poised and ready to strike. But the Roman doesn’t use his gladius. He doesn’t need to.

Not when he can cast just as deep a wound in the knowing way he smiles at her through the darkness.

“You know what he’s planning then.”

He’s not asking so much as stating a fact. One Kamilah doesn’t deny. A quick glance down to the woman hanging from his shoulder tells Cadence everything he needs to know… frankly he’s happy to not be as out of the loop as he feels.

Even Isseya, when she shifts on the balls of her feet and draws Cadence’s attention away from the old foes, seems to only have a piece of the proverbial puzzle.

He’s really starting to hate puzzles.

Victory drips like poison from Antony’s smirk. He eases up in gait; leaning back to give the vampire he once called Queen a look far too cynical to be admiration, but the hint of it is undoubtedly there.

“I can’t say I’m all too surprised. Gaius was convinced your fixation on the Bloodkeeper girl would be a blind spot for you. Despite a fair few of us in his Court insisting it would pan out quite the opposite.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?”

“On the contrary,” his frown returns deeper than before, “because now he may think twice before assuming to know more than his advisors.”

Advisors, Court. So much going on right now.

Antony waits — they all do — for how Kamilah will respond. It’s not something done out of politeness so much as it is a petty nail in the coffin; not the final one but damn well close enough.

She takes them all by surprise. Again. “I’ve never pretended to enjoy your ridiculous Roman politics Antony, especially outdated as they are. But there is nothing to gain from entertaining the ideas Gaius has come to believe over his century of imprisonment.

“Surely you don’t actually believe his claims.”

“Whether I agree with his ideas or not is inconsequential. You know as well as I do there is very little to be done when he demands something of one of us. Gaius demands the girl brought to him alive, it’s as simple as that.”

Antony shrugs — like he hasn’t met Nadya, hasn’t seen her cry in fear and rage and desperation. Whereas Cadence can’t seem to get the shrill noises out of his head no matter how hard he tries.

If this is what it means to live as long as them, he thinks, maybe I’m better off choosing compassion over years.

But… no. That’s not who Kamilah Sayeed is. He’s seen it with his own eyes — Serafine has too. Even now the very mention of what Nadya is (and what she might be, something they seem to be skirting around awfully carefully with their verbal chess) makes the woman stand taller; lights a different kind of fire in her eyes.

Now if only she would take the pair of them out and be done with it. But Kathy’s always had a thing or two in critique about his damned wishful thinking.

“Never in all my years did I expect to see the Marc Antony so willing to roll over at his Maker’s whim.” Kamilah sighs in something like disappointment. It just gets her another one-shouldered shrug while the man tap-taps his gladius against the pavement.

“All power is earned one way or another. You earned yours your way Kamilah, and I continue to earn mine… and the freedom it grants me… by doing what I must.”

An almost serene smile eases the tension in the man’s own shoulders. “And now, faced with yet another large shift in the way of the world, all I have to do is bring a girl to a king. Though I’ll admit I had started out thinking this would be a relatively simple task…” glancing aside, he looks knowingly, accusingly at Isseya and her stony mask of neutrality, “but I suppose that’s what I get for rushing in without a plan of attack.

“But if the girl truly is who Gaius believes her to be, if she can truly give him what he’s promised any vampire willing to abandon your feeble rebellion and bend the knee, then what’s a prolonged chase in the wake of a new age… of an immortal age.”

Cadence spares a fleeting, desperate look to Isseya for answers. She doesn’t have any to give.

And this is Nadya they’re talking about, yes? Nadya with her headaches and hallucinations and less control over her visions as she would let them all believe.

That Nadya?

“What the hell are you talking about, Antony?” he barks in growing anger; catches himself by surprise at the protectiveness in his voice, too. And he’s not the only one who hears it — Sayeed does too. “She’s the Bloodkeeper, that’s all there is to it!” Right?

He set himself up for that one though, to be fair.

Antony chuckles. Eyes flashing red and the hint of a fang curling at the seam of his mouth. “And do you know what that even means? I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, but you’ve forsaken that part of yourself, haven’t you? And with it — answers.”

That’s getting them all nowhere. To Kamilah; “Please, Nadya’s desperate to see you again, Sayeed.”

Whose face falls before their eyes. The chill chased from her glare and her grip on her dagger wavering ever so slightly.

“I will not let him have her,” she says; and louder still, “I will not let Gaius take her away from me. He’s gone mad, well and truly, to believe in the myth of a myth. I would die before I let his obsession consume Nadya — before he would take her life on the chance that she…”

Chance that she what?

But Kamilah can’t bring herself to say it. There’s power in words; in speaking them aloud and giving life to them. Cadence knows that better than anyone.

But before he can even think of how to reassure her there’s a soft moan of pain near his ear that takes priority. Serafine sags heavier against his side; Cadence side-steps and balances them both to compensate for the added weight.

She won’t stay conscious for much longer (if she could be considered conscious now…) and this time is already far more different than their other encounters. Not just with Kamilah firmly between them and Antony’s game of cat and mouse either, but because the game seems to have finally played out longer than necessary.

They need to go. Now.

“I can’t recall ever seeing you rendered speechless, Kamilah.” Cadence isn’t the only one who knows they’re running on borrowed time. That’s why Antony goads her back his way — closer and closer still.

He thumbs a smear of Serafine’s blood from his gladius.

“Don’t tell me the renowned and vicious Bloodqueen is scared of — what did you call it — a myth of a myth? Or perhaps it’s the prophecy itself that disturbs you. I believe I recall your struggle for his affections so many years ago.”

Fuck. It works too well.

Kamilah rounds on him with renewed fury. “You have no idea what you speak of. And if you wish to live to see the dawn you’ll know never to speak of it again!”

“Ah, yes, well… I can understand the pain of an old flame extinguished; a love lost. I think all of us can,” but when he gestures with a sweeping arm no one dares, “or at the very least we might imagine what it must feel like to have your very being compared with a memory; a ghost.

“Everyone at Court knew, of course. How the Bloodqueen never quite measured up to the Goddess Herself.”

Kamilah Sayeed isn’t a woman to issue hollow threats but that’s not what this is. This is fear freezing her in her tracks, anger shaking her body to its core; an unfortunate truth — not all of it, but enough — being forced on her against her will.

“She cannot be brought back from the dead.”

Antony cocks his head to the side. “Are you quite certain? At any rate there seems to be little harm in trying.”

“If you dare…”

“What, Kamilah? If I dare what? What will you do — better yet what will you have the power to do when he gets his chance? Because it looks to me as though you would not be able to lift a finger, or a dagger at that.

“You would stand there as you stand before me now, held captive by your own weakness. Forcing yourself to watch Gaius Turn her, the Bloodkeeper fed the Blood of the First from his veins. And all would gather to see and bear witness as that blood would bring Her back in new form and face.”

Kamilah takes half a step back — a reflex she can’t control. Much like Cadence can’t control the feeling of his stomach dropping out from underneath him.

No one can truly rise above their own fear.

“He will never lay a finger on her.”

“Denial doesn’t become you.”

Out of the corner of his eye Cadence sees a flicker in the dark — Kamilah’s grip on her dagger renewed; made stronger by her own words. And oh how she practically shouts them into the night sky.

“Nadya is not the First Vampire!”

But the Roman remains unfazed. “Perhaps not yet…” he muses, and always with the same damned smirk.

“But she could be. And the King is quite determined to find out.”