#making a modern au just so i can put piercings on them? yes exactly

[coralsillustrations]

Modern AU Rhaewin idea \\ Commissions Open

#making a modern au just so i can put piercings on them? yes exactly #rhaewin #rhaewin fanfic #rhaewin fanart #hotd rhaenyra #rhaenyra x harwin #rhaenyra targeryan #house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf fanart #got fanart #house of targaryen #digital art #procreate #modern au #hotd modern au

[asterlark]

ok. samwell college of music au. i wrote all four years let's go babey

eric bittle is this lovely southern tenor (sounds kinda like mitch grassi or ben j pierce) who posts covers (& sometimes originals, but always with neutral or no pronouns because he can't post anything that says he or him ☹) on his youtube channel and has major stage fright but is very talented; he also plays ukulele

he got into samwell college of music on a voice scholarship and his dad doesn’t exactly approve but eric was never the 6′2″ masculine football player he wanted anyway so why not go for his dreams

he auditions for the very competitive samwell men’s contemporary chorus (there’s like 20 choirs; chamber choir, jazz choir, a cappella groups (lax bros do a cappella), combined choirs, etc- smcc does contemporary pop/rock music) and while he’s very very nervous and shaky as he auditions, directors hall & murray see a lot of potential in him (with major grumbling from student director jack)

(the rest of this ridiculously long au under the cut)

the group is small, for a chorus, because the point of the group is not a wall of sound but a focus on all of the very talented guys’ voices coming together in these gorgeous harmonies and basically they’re like one of the best choruses on campus and all the male singers want in

so there’s jack zimmermann, who of course eric knows because everyone knows who he is, he’s the son of bob and alicia zimmermann, both incredibly talented and famous musicians, and basically those genes were in his favor because he’s mega fucking talented

(jack was supposed to sign a recording contract to be in a band with his best friend kent parson when he was 17 but something happened between them and the pressure was too much and jack overdosed on something- there’s so many rumors no one knows what’s real- and kent signed solo in LA & went on to win grammys for his albums about a mysterious ex and jack disappeared for a few years to be a counselor at a music camp and reappears at samwell, knocking everyone’s socks off again like he’d never left, except with a renewed vigor and intenseness that freaks everyone out)

jack is a contemporary writing & production major, freaky talented and sings like a modern day frank sinatra, and he plays like 20 instruments and can read music like breathing air and writes songs like if he stopped he’d die; his music is folksy and mournful and he plays all the instruments on his tracks himself- guitar, piano, strings, drums- it sounds like a full band but nope. just jack. he’s intense

“we all get nicknames in this choir,” justin informs eric on his first day, “we’re those kinda guys.” so he’s bitty, which he finds vaguely offensive (bc he’s not that short!) but still cute, & the rest of the group is introduced to him:

“shitty” knight (voice like colyer) is a musical education major and an enigma of a singer with this awesome, earthy, raspy voice that’s really interesting to listen to and a very.... unique style & look; he writes cheesy but shockingly good raps about social justice topics and he will sing-lecture you if you’ve said something offensive (he also plays banjo)

justin “ransom” oluransi is a music business & management major with an angelic voice you can’t help but listen to; he’s sultry and has an incredible range and does runs like nobody’s business (with a voice like daniel caesar or leslie odom jr UGH)

adam “holster” birkholtz is a voice performance major, wants to be on broadway and it’s all he ever goddamn talks about basically, he’s a belter and has a lot of charisma and starpower and he’ll charm the pants off of you within one note; can also play piano and irritates everyone constantly because his regular volume is like a level 11 (voice like the frontman of my brothers and i combined w/ x ambassadors lead singer)

larissa “lardo” duan is at the local art institute because performing arts is not her jam and she’d much rather paint; she’s a barista at annie’s and supervises open mic nights and keeps the annoying choir dudes from driving away all her patrons

“i’m not even in your dumbass choir,” she says when the group gave her her nickname. holster just told her that she was an honorary member and then started sing-shouting a song at her about how good she is

bitty’s first year is hard because he’s talented and he works hard but he shies away when anyone asks him to sing outside the group and like, he can sing to a camera by himself but being on a stage with everyone looking at you and the sole responsibility of the song on your shoulders is terrifying and no thanks

jack does not. understand this. he’s been performing practically since he came out of the womb and he doesn’t really get performance nerves (what he gets is anxiety about how he did after he gets off stage that follows him home and makes it so he can’t sleep) - so he bothers bitty about it constantly like “you just need practice, you just have to sing by yourself a lot and then you’ll get over it” which like.... that’s true but it’s also hella scary and bitty’s like “no thanks!!!!”

but jack’s annoying and intense so he makes bitty do open mic with him every saturday night and it’s going okay and bitty loves his choir and loves his school and these new friends he’s making and he finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them during his second term

then during their spring choral showcase at the end of his freshman year bitty has a solo and he’s worked really hard on it and he’s feeling good- okay he’s completely freaked out but he’s trying to feel good- but when he gets up on stage there’s so many people and the stage lights are so hot on his face and he flips out a little and maybe he passes out from anxiety and stress right on stage and it’s terrible and he’s so embarrassed and ashamed that he ruined their set at the showcase

of course jack blames himself because “we shouldn’t have given you a solo before you were ready, i misjudged it, i’m sorry” - and they all feel kinda bad bc holy fuck they didn’t know his stage fright was that bad like they didn’t know someone could pass out just by being anxious to sing

he practices all the time over the summer and goes to his local open mic at jack’s insistence and it actually helps a lot because instead of a sea of strangers judging him it’s a bunch of people he knows and they’re all smiling at him and when he finishes his song they cheer for him and it boosts his self-confidence a lot

his sophomore year they have three new members- chris ”chowder” chow (voice like ieuan), an excitable music education major with impressive rapping skills, derek "nursey" nurse (frank ocean or leon bridges type), a songwriting major who can also play violin and guitar, and will ”dex” poindexter (like tom west), a production & engineering major who tried out with chowder bc he needed moral support and didn't expect to get in but impressed the directors with his voice

the year’s going pretty good, bitty’s still pretty scared of singing alone but more confident now and the open mic nights with jack haven’t stopped, so he’s getting better. and one night they’re hanging out at annie’s after closing waiting for lardo to be done so they can walk her home, and bitty suggests that jack sing with him one of these nights, and jack says he doesn’t know any of bitty’s songs and bitty says they can write one together half jokingly but then jack is like “yes.” with that Intense Look

SO they get together a couple days later in jack’s room at the house they all live in together (bitty moved in at the beginning of the year after previous smcc member john johnson called him- how’d he get his number?- and told him he could take his room if he wanted), jack with his guitar and bitty with his ukulele, and it’s a little awkward until bitty says jack should play him one of his songs

and, okay, he doesn’t really know what to expect because the only music jack ever released to the public was that one single he did with kent parson when they were 17 so bitty doesn’t even know if he has anything to play him, but he does- he starts playing these soft, sad notes on the guitar and opens his mouth and sings about being lonely and scared and unsure, about false starts and shaky ground and not knowing where you stand with someone, about expectations and lying awake at night and wishing so hard you were someone else, and bitty watches him sing and just kind of... realizes he’s head over heels for this boy and internally Freaks Out a little

he tries to put that aside and they start to write this song, at first it’s weird because jack’s like “all your songs are love songs i can’t really relate to happy love songs” and bitty’s like “listen... i’ve never even had a boyfriend i just write a bunch of sappy love stuff because it’s not about me it’s about whoever’s listening to it, they’re gonna project their own experiences on my music anyway so it doesn’t matter if it’s my real life or not” and jack’s like “alright while fake af that’s smart and i respect you” (what bitty doesn't say is that he writes about what he really wants which is to fall in love & be in a happy relationship)

they say they’re just gonna write this kinda vague sad song but they both secretly write lines about their actual lives so it ends up being really personal and real and raw for the both of them

they sing the song at open mic that saturday and the crowd at annie’s is never that big but they’ve never got a standing ovation here before, and some girl shouts “MAKE AN ALBUM” (it may or may not be lardo) and they both blush furiously and bitty’s like “... that was really nice, jack” and jack’s like “... yeah it was good good job you’re really getting some confidence out there nice work” (bitty: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT AAAAH”)

around this time jack’s really thinking about what he’s gonna do when he’s done at samwell, talking with his parents and his agent and looking into different record companies and deciding if he wants to sign with anyone or possibly start his own company- the head of a small company called falcon records in rhode island has been talking to him a lot, and jack talks to bitty about how he thinks it’d be nice to start small, and the record exec georgia and the producer marty had both been really nice and welcoming, and bitty’s so happy for him but also just... sad that he won’t be around jack every day after he graduates

THEN at a haus party celebrating their win of a local choral competition, who shows up but none other than pop star kent parson to Ruin The Fun

bitty sees the way jack pales when kent walks in, notices them disappear upstairs together and feels a little sick worrying about jack but chalks it up to the highly alcoholic concoction shitty and lardo had cooked up but nonetheless decides he’s sick of the party and goes up to his room and hears.... a little too much

and YIKES he’s standing right there and kent parson, pop star, two-time grammy winner, is looking a little rumpled and staring right at him and he puts his hat on and clears his throat and snaps at jack- “hey. well. call me if you reconsider. but good luck with rhode island. ...i’m sure that’ll make your parents proud.” and jack’s shaking, and bitty doesn’t know what to do but jack goes back into his room and bitty’s just kind of standing there like What The Fuck

so.... he kind of stews over winter break but tries not to think about it too much and he and jack text a bit and jack tells him to practice and bitty’s like “oh, you” and jack’s like “im serious” and bitty’s like “>:( it’s christmas”

spring semester starts and they're doing well in competitions and they go to semifinals and then finals for a prestigious collegiate choir competition and the pressure is mounting but they all are so optimistic and really feel like they're on the same page and bitty’s confidence is better than ever and then.... they don't win

jack especially takes it very hard, but then he also has signing to worry about, which everyone helps him with and he decides to sign with falcon records and start work on an album after graduation

speaking of graduation, shitty and jack graduate and it's hard for them but harder for bitty who feels like he's losing jack in a way, he knows how intense jack gets when he's making music and it doesn't feel like he'll have any time for bitty anymore so when they say goodbye bitty goes back to the haus and listens to his and jack's song and just cries

but, like in canon, dadbob has words of wisdom to impart and jack has an "oh" moment and races across campus to kiss bitty

they get together and the next few months are spent with jack working nonstop on his album (which tbh, he'd had many of the songs written already so it's mostly recording and producing) and texting bitty constantly and coming to visit him and playing him demos of all the songs

jack also asks bitty if they can record the song they wrote together & have it as a bonus track on his album & bitty says of course, so when jack visits they set up an impromptu studio and record vocals in the guest bedroom and this deeply personal song they wrote before they were ever together means so much more to them now

and bitty is so happy but so scared and sad too because jack is playing him these songs telling him "they're all for you bits, & a lot of them are about you" and he just doesn't know how he's going to keep all this love inside even though it feels like jack's career is at stake

he tries to shove it down and stay strong though, especially since he's now an upperclassman and they're taking on new members- connor "whiskey" whisk (voice like finneas or the male singer in valley), a music business/ management major who seems to hate bitty's guts and tony "tango" tangredi (like chaz cardigan), a jazz composition major who astounds everybody with his endless questions but also his ridiculously impressive composition skills & naturally perfect pitch (he can also play saxophone??)

i want ford in this au so fuck it she is a composition major with dreams to write scores for musicals and she stars training as a barista at annie's (aka training to corral the smcc)

the pressure of it all proves to be a lot and bitty and jack have their hi, honey moment where bitty's like i can't be this deep in the closet!!! and so they tell the smcc and also jack's label that they're together and that eases things a bit

jack's album comes out to much critical acclaim and shouting in the groupchat ("#1 ON ITUNES BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!") and several months later, when smcc has already been eliminated from choral competition in an earlier round, jack is nominated for SEVERAL grammys including best album, song of the year, and best new artist

when the time comes he takes his parents and bitty on the red carpet which, everyone keeps being like "who are you here with jack?" and he's like "my family and my good friend :)" and yes it is awkward

jack wins... all three awards. it's the comeback everyone is stoked to see and when his third win is announced, he and bitty are so elated that they kiss before he goes to accept the award

his speech is basically just "um... wow. thank you. i just kissed my boyfriend on live tv. this is amazing and i'm so humbled. i'd like to thank my boyfriend and georgia and marty and my parents and my friends and my boyfriend"

obviously the press has a FIELD DAY with this but bitty & jack are honestly vibing and so happy that it doesn't matter untiiiillll bitty's mom calls and he has to tell her "mama i'm gay and i'm going on tour with jack this summer okloveyoubye"

the last few months of bitty's junior year pass quickly and he's voted student director which is a huge honor considering how much he struggled with stage fright and confidence & how he'll now be stepping into ransom & holster's shoes

r&h and lardo all graduate (the smcc basically crashes the art school graduation and all scream when lardo gets her diploma lmao), which is a bittersweet occasion and they all do a bit of tearing up

that summer bitty goes on tour across the u.s. & canada with jack and his touring band (snowy is a bassist, tater is a drummer and poots does backing guitar, he also brings nursey to play violin on a few songs) as well as georgia who's there to manage logistics

and tour is so fun & chaotic with many bi and rainbow flags in the audience that end up thrown on stage and draped around jack's neck and they spend so many nights in the bus drinking and laughing and fooling around on the guitars and bitty's uke and exploring new cities bitty has never been to before and it's the freest bitty has felt in a long time

summer ends though, and jack leaves for the uk/europe leg of the tour, and with the new school year brings a few new members- river "bully" bullard (voice like gregory alan isakov), a music therapy major who draws his own cover art for his songs, lukas "louis" landmann (like jr jr), an electronic production and design major with a penchant for EDM, and johnathan "hops" hopper (like keiynan lonsdale), a film scoring major who wants to write music for movies and video games

bitty meets and befriends some of the other student directors- shruti, sd of the women’s contemporary chorus; sharon, sd of the chamber choir; and edgar, sd of jazz ensemble (even chad l., sd of the all-male a cappella group)

senior year passes similarly to the comic; coach visits and sees one of bitty’s competitions, jack comes to madison for christmas, smcc does well in competition and goes to regionals etc

however… bitty keeps putting off and putting off gathering the songs for his senior recital

he has a hard time doing that because he’s so focused on the group and making sure they’re performing well and as they advance in competition, everything else starts to fall away

eventually the rest of the smcc has to lock away his uke and change his youtube password and FORCE him to choose songs for it and start preparing because he cannot graduate without doing this recital and doing well on it

he chooses (of course) a beyonce song, a few of his own songs, an ellie goulding song, and an adele song

with all that his breath hitches and his hands shake before he goes on stage, he does really well and his voice instructor prof atley tears up a little in the audience as does his mom

meanwhile smcc goes to semifinals, then finals, of the national collegiate choral competition they participate in

and i imagine bitty faces somewhat less homophobia in this au because i mean, he’s in the performing arts, but i think it’s still there and he also faces a good amount of classism from richer students and performers who think they’re better because they had the resources and money to be performing professionally from a very young age, and he has been practicing via filming himself on a shitty camcorder and posting it to youtube

but they still get there! and the national finals are fucking HUGE and a big deal and a little overwhelming

bitty’s stage fright is Present because this is the biggest stage and the biggest stakes he's ever had and he has a big solo in one of their songs so if he fucks up, he fucks up a national championship for his whole group and school

luckily though, when he steps on the stage with his best friends and sees his boyfriend and family and smcc alums in the audience and they perform their first song, a high-energy pop medley that always gets the crowd going, everything seems to melt away and it's just him living in this moment and singing his heart out

when it gets to the next song and his solo, he forgets to be nervous and belts it out, getting screams of approval from the audience when he finishes

(dex and nursey do have a duet together that they had to practice for many long nights in the practice rooms alone but that's neither here nor there)

their time on stage seems to last both hours and no time at all and then they're done, the crowd gives them a standing ovation and it's at least 30% r&h & shitty's hooting and hollering and jack's enthusiastic clapping that makes bitty & the others beam with pride

then it's just waiting, giddy and nervous beyond belief in their green room, for the judging to be over

after what feels like forever they're back on stage, arms linked together waiting and hoping for their name to be called and it is, they win and it feels like years have built up to this moment, and bitty tears up because years ago when he was fainting from anxiety at having to perform in front of people he never could've imagined that he'd do this, that he'd be the student director that led them to a championship

they get the trophy and a ridiculous amount of flowers from their loved ones and they all are just in giddy disbelief that this is happening, they're national champs!!! they are the best choir boys in the nation!!

they come home and the rest of the school year passes by so quickly that it's very suddenly graduation and bitty can't believe his college career at samwell is over 😢

(he and ollie and wicky take pictures together, o&w talk about how excited they are to devote full time attention to their band & wedding planning and bitty's just like wait you're gay??)

bitty got plenty of offers from record companies but he likes his freedom of creativity and he has a built in fanbase from doing youtube all these years so he decides to make an album independently (jack helps him produce & master it 🥰)

when bitty's album comes out about a year later, full of bops about being gay and in love and having struggled but come out the other side more confident than ever, it doesn't get any grammy nominations- and he didn't expect or need that.

what it does do is it resonates. it makes the rounds in youtube and queer internet circles; people his age reach out to him saying this is the music they wish they had as a kid and kids reach out to him saying he's a role model and they're so glad to have his music to listen to. his album is written about as an underrated gem that shines with queer brilliance and is sure to start a party when it comes on.

his parents may not fully understand the road he's chosen for himself but they're still so proud and promote the album as hard as any of his loyal fans (especially the one country-inspired song on the album that he wrote and dedicated to them).

and jack, jack who saw this album from its infancy to its release date, who took the film photo that ended up being the album cover, who worked with bitty to make sure his vision was realized exactly how he wanted it to be, is proud beyond words.

jack starts using his semi-abandoned twitter again to tweet "stream [album name]" every day and bitty retweets them sometimes, with just a "this boy. ❤"

and they're happy. they're good. they have come so far and they are reaping the rewards of all the hard work they put in to make the music that they truly love.

the end :)

#check please #omgcp #samwell college of music au #mine #my writing #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp fic #check please fic #zimbits #uhh idk what else to tag #this fucking thing is like 4.1k words i'm- #i hope you enjoy it (and reblog it!) bc i've been working on this for literal years #i know i'll never actually write it as a longform fic so here's a bullet pt fic instead #pls let me know your thoughts i have so many things to say about this au

[mithrilwren]

I really, really wanted to contribute something to Essek Week​, but unfortunately with two essays and a novel chapter due by Monday, I didn’t have the time or mental energy to write anything new. Cue me remembering that I’d actually started working on an Essek-centric shadowgast Pirate!AU last summer, that never saw the light of day! Though I did a whole bunch of research for it, summer ended before I could get farther than the first couple chapters. Still, I’m very fond of the premise, and I’d like to finish it one day. I can’t guarantee I will (life’s too busy to commit myself to another Big Fic Project atm) but in the meantime, here’s a little taste in the form of the first chapter.

-------------------

For @essek-week Day 7: AU

Courts of Silk (Chapter 1)

Essek startled from his trance to the crackle of blistering thunder overhead.

Mind bled of all drowsiness in an instant, he unfolded his legs and slid off the berth, drifting to the center of the room and tilting his ear towards the boards above. 

A storm…  but the skies were meant to be clear for days, and he trusted Avus to know it. Could the weather have turned so–

Boom.

Essek’s eyebrows flew up as the deck visibly lurched below his feet. 

Not thunder.

Cannon fire.

More sounds now, hurried ones – an erratic tempo of feet pounding through the corridor outside his little room, the floorboards creaking dully under the weight of the crew scrambling over the deck above. He flinched as a louder noise pierced through the commotion: the rattling of a heavy fist falling against the door of his cabin, hard enough to shake the wooden frame. 

“We’ve been boarded!” Zel’ra’s guttural shout startled him out of his confused stupor, and he flew to the door and flung it open. The quartermaster stood outside, her snarling jaw dripping with whitish battle foam, the kind that bugbears of Rosohna so seldom have occasion to sport within city walls. “Come on, magic boy, time for you to earn your– Shit!”

Then she was gone, and Essek was left staring dumbly at the empty corridor, as Zel’ra raced back the way she came. A moment later, there was a yelp, and the grisly crack of metal hitting bone. Then there was no sound at all, save the rocking of the ocean’s pulse against the hull, and the thump of confident, unfamiliar footsteps, coming closer and closer to his open door.

He had only a few moments to make his decision. The fight might still be going on above deck, but if intruders had already made it below, there was little hope of a favorable outcome for the crew of the Barren Bow. He hadn’t thought the Empire would be brazen enough to attack a diplomatic ship in open waters, but there were soldiers of all ilks on the open sea, and no government to hold them to account so far from land. He would not put it past a Dwendalian crew to sight a Dynasty flag on the horizon and decide to take the matter of revenge in their own hands. If so, there was no telling what treatment they might expect at the hands of their attackers. Rage was rarely tamed by abstract rules of engagement, and he doubted anyone would care to ask what the nature of their mission was, once the killing began.

But perhaps…

Quickly, Essek drew aside his sleeve and materialized the leather–bound contents of his wristpocket into his hands. His spellbook lay beside precious components in their embroidered fold, and there, at the bottom of the pile: the folio. He whispered a quiet word and the paper folded apart, revealing its damning – and perhaps, in the right hands, lifesaving – contents. 

The letters. 

If the tides were so unfavorable that he could not fight, perhaps that might be enough to–

He vanished the whole affair back into the ether as two shadows fell across the door. 

From the darkness of the hallway, two figures stepped over the threshold. In front was a young woman: human, with swarthy skin made darker still by the weathering burn of long days at sea. Her hands were tucked beneath bare arms and her hip turned out to an unconcerned jaunt, adorned by a sash of deep blue. Behind her, and looming so tall that she had to hunch to fit through the frame of the door, was a giant of a woman. Taller even than Zel’ra, her bare shoulders glistening with rippling muscles and sweat, pale as moonlight – or as the steely glint of the broadsword at her back. The younger woman swept him over with piercing eyes, her confident grin not quite masking the focused gaze beneath. Though she bore no weapons, Essek could feel the stain of threat in every taut sinew of her body. He held still, waiting to see who would make the first move.

Her eyes finally paused, centered on the floor beneath his feet, and her grin dropped into something more like a startled ‘oh’. Too late, he realized his mistake – that his levitation, as natural and instinctive as standing on his own two feet, had just given him away. 

“Mage!” she sputtered, and her hand was gripping his arm and twisting it behind his back before he even realized she’d moved. Essek dropped the levitation spell, hoping to get enough leverage from the sudden height difference to slip out of her grasp, but before he could so much as shuffle to the left, the taller woman was at his right, clutching his other arm with a grip strong enough to break bone. 

“Shit,” the first woman spat as she stepped back, allowing the second to take both of his arms into custody. “Who the fuck did we just board?”

Essek kept silent, staring at her, searching for any sign of weakness and finding less than nothing. If he had just had his hands free for a moment longer… but that didn’t matter now. There weren’t many spells without a somatic component at his disposal, and cantrips wouldn’t save his neck, should the giantess move quicker to snap it than he could speak. 

Without a means of immediate escape, he looked next for any way to identify his captors. They were human, but their loose, subdued dress – for the younger woman, a vest of blue cotton, the other, a braided grey tunic, and frayed ribbons in both their hair – was nothing like the silver and crimson finery of the Righteous Brand. 

If not from the Empire, who were these people? Hired thugs? Mercenaries?

“Are there more of you skulking down here?” 

He didn’t ask the woman to clarify, though he wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking. More drow? Yes, but he was not about to reveal the nature of the delegation travelling under his protection to her. More mages? No. As always, he had convinced the Bright Queen that his effort alone would be sufficient. For the first time in a very long time, he wished he’d been a little more conservative in estimating his own skills. Given the current situation, someone else’s power at his back might actually be welcome, rather than distracting. 

Her burning gaze made it clear that he had to say something, and soon, but for once, the right words did not come. The truth did not matter: he knew that any unfavorable answer would be taken as a lie.

Still, Essek would not panic. The only way to regain control of the situation was by carefully gathering information, finding something that he could use to shift the balance of power at a more advantageous moment. That was his particular specialty. 

“I do not know,” he answered coolly. “For I do not know who is above and below deck at all hours of the day. I can only speak for myself.”

“Beau! Fjor– fuck– Captain Tusktooth wants you on deck!” A new voice, its timbre high and grating, like glass against cold iron, echoed from around the corner. The woman – Beau, he filed away – turned her head and shouted back out the door. 

“Just a second, we’ve got one more!” Then, “Tell him to get Caleb over here, we’ve got a goddamn mage to deal with!” 

The giantess at his back leaned down, so close that her dreaded locks nestled amidst the silver chains that hung from tip to base of his pointed ear. “You aren’t going to give us any trouble, are you?” she murmured, and despite every ounce of training he’d undergone for exactly this sort of intimidation, he still couldn’t help the way he shivered at her dark tone. There was a deep quality to her voice that sung of violence, for violence’s sake, and though he wasn’t yet truly afraid, he had no wish to provoke her.

“How could I?” Essek gently flexed his arms in her grasp: not enough to challenge, but enough to reassure her of his helplessness.

Her lips curled back, and… yes. There was a little fear gathering there, in the back of his throat. A good kind of fear – the prudent kind. It would keep him alert, and focused, and ready to strike back when the moment was right. 

When she started pushing him forward, he followed her lead willingly, and the two of them shadowed Beau into the corridor and up the steps that led back above deck. Essek winced as the bright noonday sun slipped into view, already anticipating the stinging burn that was sure to follow. He’d managed to avoid the deck for most of the voyage, much to the chagrin of the Assarian crew. He was not born into a body made for manning rigging, and certainly not under an unrepentant sky determined to scorch his face and hands and neck and leave him itching and miserable for days without relief. His better use was below deck, planning for the engagement ahead, and his hours of fresh air better taken in the evening, when the gentler light of the moons was merely a prickle beneath his skin, rather than a flame. 

Everywhere he looked, he saw mismatched bodies. Though Essek hadn’t met the entire complement of the Barren Bow’s crew, he had to assume most of the scattered orcs, goblins, and bugbears belonged to their side. Most of the ones on their feet were being held in the shallow recess at the centre of the deck, where great cannons might have been lodged on a more modern ship. A handful of unremarkable humans, each equipped with a rapier – or, in one man’s case, a salt-encrusted retort – stood above them, keeping watch. Amidst all that humanity stood a wild–eyed goblin in a blaring yellow dress, hefting a crossbow composed of whirring gears and levers of an intricate make that rivaled Waccoh’s own craftsmanship. She was currently in the process of shouting threats down across the heads of his cowed compatriots. Some were clutching broken arms or wiping blood from contusions and burnt welts. Lying at the center of the group was an unconscious Zel’ra, the goose egg at the back of her skull already angry and red. 

Finally, he spied the remainder of the drow contingent clustered by the ship’s rail. Diplomats, all of them, bound for a parley at sea and not trained for conflict beyond what it took to hold a dagger right-way up. He was the only one among them battle-tested, and even then, his means leaned more towards subterfuge than outright combat. Theoretically, the Assarian crew was meant to be their main line of defence in case of attack. Clearly they had not proven up to the task. 

Essek would be filing a very unfavorable report with their commanders upon his return, if any of them survived the day. 

“Captain!” Beau shouted, and a tall half-orc stepped away from the railing, his wide-brimmed hat only partially disguising the many scars that littered his face. 

“Weather’s turning,” he said, casting his eyes towards the – as far as Essek could tell – clear horizon. Those same yellow eyes flickered up, above Essek’s head, and for a moment seemed to narrow before turning back to Beau. “You finished clearing the hold yet?”

“Didn’t make it that far.” Beau jerked her head, and Essek was thrust into the sunlight all at once. The glare was blinding, and apparently not just to him. The giantess’s hands jerked around his arms, like they wanted to fly up and shield her eyes as well. That was all the opportunity he needed. 

With one quick motion, he jerked his arms from her grasp and drew his hands together, tracing familiar glyphs out of nothing but muscle memory as his mouth uttered an incantation, and the world exploded around him. The giantess was flung back against the doorframe, wood splintering beneath her weight, and both Beau and the half-orc slammed into the deck and began to hurtle towards the side of the boat. Forcing his eyes to stay focused amidst the chaos and the harsh light, Essek caught the glitter of a cutlass skittering along the boards as he took stock of his position on the newly reborn battlefield.

Nearly all of the boarders were in a concentrated area in front of him, and the rest of the Assarian crew were protected by the lip of the recess in the deck. The terrain could not be more advantageous. Essek allowed himself a small smirk as he raised his hand and prepared a vacuum blast that would level the whole of the upper deck, and deliver them all to safety in one swift stroke. 

How arrogant, that this petty group of mercenaries thought they could capture–

“Counterspell.”

The magic sizzled and died in his hand, and Essek whirled, searching for whoever had spoken behind him. Thugs he could handle, but it was always best to deal with a mage first, when they could do such infuriating things as what had just occurred. But once he turned, he found himself facing an empty doorway, and an empty deck above that. No trace of whoever had cast the counterspell. 

The giantess was gone as well.

He heard the click before he could parse what cold and heavy thing was tugging on his wrist, but he was horribly aware of what was happening by the time his other wrist was wrenched behind his back and small hands clasped the second iron band shut. A stomach-churning wave of exhaustion passed through him from scalp to toe, and he staggered, only barely holding on to consciousness. Head lolling towards the floor, he saw two soft-soled boots landing lightly on the deck in front of him.

With great effort, he managed to drag his head up from his chest, and found himself staring into blue eyes and dusty freckles, lips pressed into a thin line, all framed by tangles of copper-red hair. 

“Good work, Nott,” the man said. His accent was one Essek had only heard once before, though through the mire of exhaustion he could not remember where.

Behind Essek, the half-orc groaned and pushed himself up off the deck. “Next time you have a brilliant plan for subduing the prisoner, maybe let’s try not putting us all in the line of fire, hm?” 

The man ignored the sarcasm, still looking all too carefully at Essek.

“Are you finished?” he murmured, and though his body was lithe, his soft voice sung of as much violence as the giantess’s darker growl. 

With a sigh, Essek let his shoulders drop. He could still feel the pulses of magic coursing through the iron bands around his wrists. Even if he got his arms free again, the cuffs would not be easily slipped, or broken. These people, whoever they were, came equipped to handle wizards like himself. Was that what they were, then? Assassins in disguise? Privateers? The blunt instrument of some government or another?

Not that it made much difference now. Whoever they were, he was at their mercy. 

“Spin him around.”

Essek felt himself being maneuvered away from the man’s incisive gaze. Through bleary eyes he caught the looks of frustrated disbelief from the four drow delegates, lamenting their crushed hope in silent, huddled unity. He was meant to be their protection. Now that Essek was taken, what else could save them? Not one of them was brave enough to attempt it themselves. A shiver of disgust ran through Essek, as heady as the self-recrimination it concealed at having allowed himself to be captured so easily.

The half-orc strode up to Essek, the sword in his hand now replaced, though Essek hadn’t seen the man move to retrieve it. It was a silver cutlass, fine enough to cleave a person clean through and leave one half still propped up on the other. Too rich a prize by far for a simple mercenary – he must have come by it dishonestly, or been given it as boon or bribe. Neither prospect boded well. 

The hand that gripped the sword told an equally foreboding story, for only the thumb was composed of green flesh. The rest of the fingers were severed at the third knuckle, and replaced by metal imitations fixed to the wrist by a harness of leather cords. Still, he held the hilt with all the confidence of a trained fighter, and the surety of his grasp left Essek little doubt as to its effectiveness, mechanical augmentation or no.

“My name,” said the half-orc, “is Captain Tusktooth.” A hint of bright teeth flashed from below the wide brim of the hat. “And this ship is mine now. Its cargo, mine too.”

The answer about the identity of his captors, at last, became clear, for what little good it did him.

Pirates.

“By whose authority?” Essek shot a harsh look at the foolish dignitary who had chosen this moment to find their courage, but Tusktooth only grinned harder.

“By my own.” Behind Essek’s back, Nott and Beau slipped back through the splintered doorframe and down into the depths of the ship once more. “Now, my crew is going to finish taking a look through your cargo. I trust that your captain has been honest about the contents of your hold. Are there any other surprises I should be warning my people of? Anybody else looking to make trouble?”

Would that there were. “You will find little of value to take. We travelled light.” He spoke the truth, having no more useful lie at his disposal. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and another wave of exhaustion teased at the edges of his mind. He fought it with all the strength he had – which was growing less and less by the minute.

“So your captain told me. But that wasn’t my question.” Tusktooth’s voice grew as keen as the blade in his hand as he lifted it and placed the edge to the shallow of Essek’s throat. “Are there others like you aboard?”

He did not flinch. Torment and torture were old friends: his own cherished instruments. He did not fear what this man would do to him, any more than he feared death itself. At least, that is what he told his errant heart, as sweat began to bead at the nape of his neck.

“No.”

Tusktooth stared him down for a minute longer, and Essek held his gaze as best he could with the sun still searing his eyes. But at last, the sword withdrew, and Essek’s breath came a little easier. “Then let’s call this an exercise in… mutual trust.” He smiled once more, and Essek returned the expression with a vague twitch of lips.

The tense exchange was followed by ten excruciating minutes of silence, during which Essek did his best not to fidget in his heavy robes, even when his exposed skin grew so heated he felt liable to burst into flames. As they waited, the redheaded man pulled Tusktooth aside for a private conversation, and Essek sweated, and watched, and tried to formulate a plan.

The pirates would find nothing of value to steal. The Barren Bow had provisions for the voyage, but anything else aboard was the purview of the Assarian crew, who had planned to head back towards the shores of Igrathad as soon as the parley concluded. There were no scheduled stops for trade, and thus, no trade goods in their hold. There weren’t even guns to offer. Essek would never dare to admit it aloud, but the Dynasty lagged sorely behind the rest of Wildemount in outfitting its fleet with the relatively new technology of cannonry, at least of the type that lacked a magical component. Firearms had only entered the sphere of weaponmaking some thirty years prior, and with Xhorhas primarily landlocked, the navy hadn’t been high on the priority list for refurbishment. 

His best hope was that some of the crew had hidden stashes of coin in their quarters. Otherwise, there would be nothing for the pirates to take, and without anything to satisfy them, well… he did not want to be in manacles when that news was delivered to a man who’d already put a sword to his throat. 

If only to convince himself he was not totally beaten yet, Essek watched Tusktooth and the redhead carefully, seeing what he could glean from body language alone. Their conversation was hushed but tense, and every few moments the redhead would turn his eyes towards the drow delegation, and then to Essek himself. He made sure to drop his own eyes before they could meet again, not wanting to spark another confrontation by appearing insolent. As for the pirate captain… there was confidence, yes, but the unwavering edge of confidence seemed to drop away from his shoulders as he spoke to the other man. His arms moved more wildly; his words were more rapid, and at a higher pitch. Perhaps his earlier confidence was not so unshakeable as it at first appeared.

At last, Beau and the goblin re-emerged from the staircase. “We got shit all,” Beau said, tossing down a half-empty sack by Essek’s feet. He winced as a few bruised tubers rolled out across the warped deck.

“...Shit.” Tusktooth ran a hand over his mouth. “Shit. Nothing?”

“Nott and I checked every inch of that hold, the crew quarters, everything. No money, no timber, no – fuck, I don’t know – fine silks or–”

“No cannons,” Nott added mournfully. “No black powder.”

“We went through all this for nothing?”

“Maybe someone’s holding out on us,” Nott said, brandishing her crossbow. “I could make ‘em talk for you, Captain. Make them squeal–”

“Oh–kay, Nott,” Tusktooth said, “let’s take it down a notch.” But despite his placating tone, his look was thoughtful. Again, he turned to Essek. “You never never did say what you all were doing out here, so far from home. You don’t look like a sailor to me.”

“Yes, friend,” said the redhead, stepping up to Essek from Tusktooth’s other side, alarmingly calm, and placing altogether too much emphasis on the second word to be trusted, “what is it you do here?” Essek took a half-step back, not liking the feeling of being pressed in from all angles, and walked himself straight into the chest of the giantess. 

Nowhere to hide. And with his hands bound behind his back, no way to levitate up to a level where he didn’t feel every inch of height his captors had over him. Which, at his firmly average height for a drow, was many.

Focus, Thelyss. Focus.

“Why should I answer your questions,” he sneered, “when you have not done me the same courtesy? Who are you, to board a vessel commissioned lawfully by the Bright Queen herself?” It was a dangerous ploy, but a considered one – a hastily calculated risk. If the pirates could not be convinced there was nothing of value to be found, they might decide to punish the crew for concealing their rightful prize, and when even a beating couldn’t drive his compatriots to forfeit non-existent gold, the pirates might well scuttle the ship and leave them all to drown at sea. He doubted simple brigands would care much for the particulars of a diplomatic mission if there was no treasure involved, so there was little harm in broaching a subject that might be far more dangerous to discuss with more educated captors.

But apparently, some aspect of Essek’s logic had failed him again, because the redhead immediately shot a wide-eyed look at Tusktooth, before looking back to Essek. “The Bright Queen?”

Essek gave a little bow. His head swam as he dipped back up – the handcuffs, no doubt, though it could just as easily be the beginnings of heatstroke – and he had to swallow twice to find the fortitude to speak without slurring. “Essek Thelyss, Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty and ambassador of the realm.” The last part was an… embellishment, and if he chanced a glance over at the true ambassadors, he imagined there would be many offended looks. But thankfully, all attention was solely focused on him. “I assure you, you won’t find the prize you’re looking for on a diplomatic vessel, gentleman. Your friends have already given you proof – we carry nothing beyond our own provision. Unless you have a particular taste for the delicacies of Xhorhasian fashion, I’m afraid we have little to offer you.”

Nott snarled, but the redhead put up a hand. “Captain,” he said slowly, looking at Tusktooth. “Might I… make a suggestion?” 

“You may.”

“It’s not something I’d usually propose, but times being what they are…” Tusktooth nodded grimly.

“We haven’t got many options left.”

“Precisely. I believe that our friend Mr. Thelyss here has lied to us.” He could laugh for the irony of it all; this was the most truthful Essek had been in years. “There is indeed something very valuable aboard this ship.” His blue eyes pierced through Essek, and it was only his determination to keep the – now violently pitching – contents of his stomach where they belonged, that stopped him from speaking up in his own defense.

“And that is...?”

“Himself.”

#critical role #essek thelyss #shadowgast #essek week #my writing #also since plank king essek is a... thing??? now #the timing seems appropriate lol #this fic is not that but it is still (eventual) pirate!Essek #and who doesn't love that

[minkmousesworld]

Hi! could i request a omega Daki x Alpha reader smutty were reader is just incredibly protective of Daki and sometimes loses it but Daki both loves the attention and loves that she can actually calm the reader down?

by @gayforthem

Hello! Thank you very much for the request, and don't forget to drink water!

enjoy reading~❤️

Omegaverse AU: omega! Daki x alpha! Reader [NSFW🔞]

"Your"

warnings: modern au, kinda dark omegaverse (mention of murder), heavy petting (masturbation), mention of oral sex, mention of marking.

omega fem character x alpha (aggressive) gender neutral reader

Daki was popular.

Sometimes it felt as if every time she walked into a room, everyone stopped doing their own thing to look at her.

Daki was a bright and damn attractive omega, and she knew it. With all her bright makeup, elegant clothes, and arrogant, warm smile.

And with that cute expression she made whenever someone (usually a "fan") bothered her, but not enough to make her really angry.

She waved at them sweetly and wrapped her arms around your arm, throwing eloquent glances at your face without even looking back.

Daki lived for your reaction.

Nothing too rude — she was satisfied with your irritated face when someone clung to her, or the ostentatious indifference when another alpha tried to "seduce" her (as if they could hope for something), or the cold when someone asked if you were her alpha.

As if the mark on her neck wasn't a telling enough sign. Or that she didn't leave your side.

Or the way you looked at everyone who bothered her.

"Don't touch her"

Daki watched curiously as you tightly gripped the other alpha's hand and gently held her to you. Not that she enjoys your jealousy...

Well, she enjoyed your jealousy.

"Touch her again", you gripped the other's hand even tighter, "and I'll chew out your too-long arms, as well as your brain, which apparently isn't there. Got it?"

You're not exactly aggressive.

If you were an unbalanced type of alpha, you wouldn't be able to be a couple with her for so long.

You were just annoyed when others touched your omega.

Even if she could protect herself.

"You shouldn't have been so aggressive", Daki later whispers seductively, clinging to your clothes as you stand in a dark corner of the club, out of the bright artificial light. "Everyone knows I'm your omega. They wouldn't dare claim me"

Everyone knows you're her alpha. Only for some reason they ignore it.

Probably because if an omega smells like an alpha, it's not a sign that the omega is "marking"

What an abomination.

You looked seriously at your girlfriend, who cocked her head to one side, hanging on your every word.

So cute when she's not trying to play on your instincts.

"I'm not acting this way because of aggression against another alpha. I'm acting like this because no one can touch you without permission... Do you understand? Nobody. Even me"

If you weren't in public, Daki would purr like an affectionate cat. You have already seen, even through the gloom, how contentedly she smiled.

The color of your favorite lipstick glistened in the faint light from the dance floor.

"And if anyone does that, or otherwise interferes with you, I officially declare that I will bite their throat out"

"And if they looks?"

"I'll suck their eyes out of their sockets. Don't underestimate me, babydoll"

Daki lifts up to kiss you on the lips, wrapping her fingers around your neck. More likely to strangle than let go.

When she pulls away, the light is surprisingly reflected in her amorous eyes. Running her hand through your hair, she gently touches it, smiling coquettishly.

"Never♡"

This corner seems to be getting too lit up. And crowded. Sometimes your girlfriend's popularity is a little tiring.

Daki falls silent, relaxing in a warm embrace, unusually silent and thoughtful. you look below out of habit, expecting to see a white collar preventing a mark, but instead you see a bare neck with half a necklace hanging from it.

The other part is hanging around your neck.

"It's getting late", you gently wrap your arms around Daki's waist, which is easy to handle, though knowing her by day she would try to playfully pull away. "And not safe for cute, sleepy omegas. Let's go home"

"Is it really that unsafe to have their strong and brave alphas around?" Daki responded playfully, smiling. "Let me see... no?♡"

"Daki..."

The girl responded with a shrug and a flirtatious wink, squeezing your hand.

"Convince me that we need to go home"

At least she's never boring.

"Safer at home?"

"No, more boring at home! But what about the people? Dancing? Communication?"

You took a deep breath, and omega just giggled.

"Can we cuddle at home?"

"... perhaps..."

"At home, we'll watch some TV shows and relax?"

Daki averted her brooding gaze, pausing before looking at you coquettishly, smiling.

"Okay, we can go home if you don't like clubs so much..."

👑🌟

The walk home was quieter than you originally thought.

"Daki, don't run on the ice, you'll fall"

"Daki, your lips are blue. Maybe you'd better wear my clothes?"

"Daki, hold on to me, please. It's safer and warmer"

"[Y/n], I'm not a little girl!"

"Of course not"

In the end, Daki agreed to hide in your clothes, and "led the way" while you slowly followed her, trying not to step on her feet.

You walked in silence, which was interrupted only by short questions "are we going there for sure?" and "yes, I know, I know!". Daki gave you long looks from time to time, the meaning of which you did not understand, but decided not to ask, guessing what thoughts appeared in her head.

"Don't leave my side, dear. I've heard that there are aggressive dogs here"

"Like I might want to get away from my warm alpha, mmm"

👑🌟

It was much more comfortable at home than at the club. There were no bright lights, no strange smells, no annoying alphas that you would love to chew through an artery if they came after your omega again.

What a joy that the law does not regulate this issue in any way.

Like the question of killing alphas by omegas when they want to abuse an omega.

You looked at Daki, who, in her favorite pink sweater (your birthday present, before you even thought about starting a relationship), was looking for something interesting in a box of CDs, her head pressed against your shoulder. Bending her legs in only short socks, Daki spent a long time sorting through the disks, dissatisfied with throwing unnecessary ones.

"How about we watch this?" there was a disk in front of your face that you didn't recognize. "Something romantic... or a melodrama... Just right for this evening!"

👑🌟

The film was not bad. Not too original, but atmospheric. With songs, winter and "Christmas miracle".

Putting your arm around Daki's waist, you pressed your lips to the mark, not being too interested in the plot. Daki gave you playful glances, but to the last played hard to get, ignoring your courtship.

After kissing her neck, you slowly put your hand on her knee, watching her reactions. Daki only snuggled closer to you, giggling for a moment as you gently ran your fingers along her thigh before returning to the film, "ignoring" you.

However, it definitely became harder for her to ignore you as your fingers gently traced the inside of her thigh, very close to her panties.

A slight blush appeared on her face.

Bringing her legs together and holding your hand between her thighs, Daki gave you a hot look before tilting her head forward, submissively baring the neck you pressed your lips to.

Daki hated it when you bit her.

👑🌟

Even after the credits ended, you continued to sit, using the light from the black, unplugged screen.

You felt very warm from the warmth of your girlfriend and the faint, sweet smell that made you feel a little dizzy. Daki, on the other hand, was much less sleepy — although she didn't stop fidgeting all through the movie, squeezing your hand, and now she was breathing heavily, digging her nails into your hands, but she was silent, thinking about something.

The pain was mild and bearable, but unpleasant.

Suddenly getting out, Daki pulled you towards her, once again starting to smile coquettishly, hinting at a surprise.

And when her back hit the floor, she grabbed the sweater and pulled it up. Smiling cheekily, she raised an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Isn't that what you wanted, my love? Watch a movie and relax? Your omega is ready for anything♡"

It was hard to deny that now, lying under you, with her cheeks so rosy and her expression so confident, she didn't look... attractive.

Very attractive.

"And? Why are you only looking? My breasts are waiting♡"

And grabbing your head, Daki confidently placed it on her chest while continuing to smile cheekily. One hand clutching the clothes on your back, the other she placed on your head, stroking, watching you.

Daki has always been a warm body, but you doubted that now you will want to fall asleep again. Although, her breasts were a great place to sleep — soft, with large, pink nipples that she once wanted to pierce.

Some pink jewelry would look great. In addition, you could play with the piercing — wrap your lips and gently pull. Or, if it's rings, you could come up with something about light chains.

Considering how masochistic Daki was, she would have liked that. As long as you don't tell her to obey you outside of bed.

"Hey, [Y/n]?" whispered Daki, continuing to stroke your hair as you gently played with her breasts, squeezing and rubbing to hear her moan, "I love you"

You stopped, looking from her breasts to your girlfriend.

"What are you looking at?" said Daki excitedly, still patting you on the head. "I mean... look, even if you threaten to hit the other alphas, or, you know, kill them, I appreciate it. I know I'm acting like I don't like it, but I don't. It's kind of nice"

You were still looking at your girlfriend, which made her even more embarrassed.

"Okay! Good! It turns me on when you act like a bossy alpha! All right?! Stop staring like that! This is normal for omega!"

Grabbing the nipple, you pulled slightly, causing Daki to suddenly moan, spreading her legs for you.

You immediately moved your hand lower, gently stimulating through the thin, already wet panties, to which Daki abruptly squeezed your hair, trying to grip your hand tighter.

You pressed harder, indulging your girlfriend, moving your fingers more roughly, as if you were trying to tear your panties and get inside.

But your pressure was interrupted by Daki, pulling you and aggressively kissing you on the lips, not allowing you to pull away, with the second hand trying to caress you to those places that she could reach.

She swung her leg over your hip and pulled you back, panting and shivering.

"I love you too, my Queen"

It was even wetter between her legs, and the completely wet panties made it easier for you to slide over her labia, but prevented her from having an orgasm. Even the faint touch of her clit, though it sent a shiver of pleasure through her body, only made her tease harder.

"Damn it, just rip it off me already!" she whispered, trying to kiss you again, "or I'm about to bring myself to orgasm"

"Who can make you better than yourself?"

"Damn, I hate you!"

👑🌟

There was something cute about how red Daki was, biting the edge of her sweater and masturbating in front of you.

With ringing, squelching sounds, then penetrating inside with her fingers, caressing herself from the inside, then taking them out, stroking her labia, she purred charmingly while you stimulated her wet clit.

The performance, consisting of her reaction and sounds, was delightful.

Arching, she trembled, her mouth open and her legs clenched sharply, blocking your view. You only began to caress more slowly, feeling a strong tremor, continuing until she again spread her legs.

Slipping down to you, Daki clung trustingly to your shoulder, wet and shivering.

"You see", you began gently, massaging the girl's back, "you're doing just fine on your own, like a big girl"

The bite on the shoulder looked more like a symbol of embarrassment and indignation than defiance. Especially with that sweet, red face she tried to hide from you.

"Shut up", Daki said, catching her breath. "Shut up and get on the couch. And take off your clothes. We're not done yet"

"Oops?"

"My mouth isn't just made to rip out your opponents' throats and bite you if you didn't know it"

#daki x reader #daki #gender neutral reader #demon slayer scenarios #kimetsu no yaiba scenarios #🍮.omegaverse au #🍮.modern au #submission #nsft #kimetsu no yaiba smut #daki smut #🍡.masturbation #🍡.petting

[missturtleduck]

Fake dating anon-I think it would be cool if it wasn’t a modern au? But thank you!!!!

Sorry for your wait, anon! I hope you like what I wrote for you <3

Fake It Till You Make It

Sokka x Reader - FakeDating!Trope

Needless to say, Y/N was slightly shocked by Sokka’s proposition.

By the age of sixteen, they had been crucial pai sho tiles in the gambit against the once Fire Lord Ozai. Returning home was odd for many reasons, but notably the reminders that they were still children really, or at least in the eyes of their families. It was Zuko who had suggested a gang trip – a joint life changing field trip – after the nations settled down from Ozai’s defeat.

The first to return home was Y/N. Her mother lived in Fire Fountain City. It was only a short journey away from the capital, and Hakoda had already travelled to see his children at the palace. Sure, she had joked about pushing off her mother’s insistent affection, but she definitely cried a little bit when she got to hug her mum, and even more when her brothers piled on too. Ever the monarchist, Zuko was welcomed into the house with open arms and plenty of celebration. Toph especially got on with her family, rough-housing with Y/N’s brothers like it was nothing.

Since Toph didn’t want to see her parents as of yet, the only family member left to visit was Sokka and Katara’s Gran Gran since Suki’s family were doing work in the Fire Nation anyway. It took some convincing for Toph to put on snow boots – “I’ll risk frostbite if it means seeing, Katara!” – but soon they were travelling all the way to the South Pole. It was on their stop at Kyoshi Island that Sokka had approached Y/N.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

Y/N barked out an incredulous laugh. “Tui and La, what?”

“Exactly what I said,” Sokka nodded, face solemn. “Katara wrote to Gran Gran a couple of times and mentioned Yue and Suki, but you know how that ended.”

“One turned into the moon and the other is a raging Sapphic in a relationship with Ty Lee.”

“Exactly!” He looked distressed, throwing his hands in the air. “And Gran Gran sent a letter back saying how excited she was to meet my girlfriend!”

Frowning in confusion, Y/N looked at him. “You could just tell her what happened.”

“But, Y/N, she was so excited!” He simpered the way a child would, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “Obviously, we’re just friends, but would you do this?”

Ouch. Sure, they were ‘just friends’, but it hurt anyway. Maybe it was the terseness with how he said it, or the fact that since the war had ended all Y/N could think about is how pretty Sokka looked when he could finally relax. Whatever it was, it stung in her chest, panging with the intensity of heartburn. Heartburn seemed a fitting enough description regardless of its denotation.

So that was how she ended up fake dating Sokka, all for the sake of his ego and his gran gran’s happiness. As they travelled over the ocean on Appa’s back, he was as physically far from her as he could possibly be. Ouch, again. For a fake boyfriend, he was doing a crappy job at it. Staring daggers at the back of his head, Y/N sulked quite contently next to Zuko, who seemed to be comfortable with her mood – something about being friends with far grumpier girls. That had made her laugh.

Her laugh had made Sokka stare.

The sharpness to her gaze melted almost immediately when she saw the concern etched on his face. Instead, she beamed at him. Sokka grinned back, turning away to continue his conversation with Suki.

Y/N could feel Zuko’s gaze on her. “I swear to the spirits, Zuko, if you say that’s rough, buddy, I’ll chi block you.”

The crown prince was kind enough to stifle his laughter, though it seemed contagious. Her frown shifted into a small smile and she took to staring over the edge of Appa’s saddle at the canvas of blue beneath them. There was something tranquil about the polar water, the great water beasts breaching the waves only to dive back down into the impossible depths. Being from the Fire Nation, Y/N had never experienced such wonder in a single image – nor such freezing weather. Pulling furs over herself, she readied herself for what would happen on the ice.

Gran Gran looked to be the loveliest but scariest woman she would ever meet. The woman stood as the leader of the tribe; a gaggle of children stood behind her in uncertainty. However, as soon as Sokka hopped off Appa’s back, they were screaming and charging past her to tackle him to the ground. Her heart warmed as they hugged him and cried, shouting at him for leaving them without a warrior in the village.

“What are you seal pups on about?” He snorted, trying to avoid being winded by tiny elbows. “I trained you better than this.”

“That’s enough of that.”

At the woman’s words, the children picked themselves up, leaving Sokka in the snow. He didn’t last long though as he and Katara took their turn in charging. Embracing their grandmother with the tightest hug Y/N had ever seen, she left them to their moment, opting to instead help Toph down from their trusty steed.

“I hate this,” Toph muttered, holding both Zuko and Y/N’s arms in her own death grip.

“I know,” Y/N said softly, “But you’ll be able to take those boots off once we get inside one of the igloos.”

“And this must be Y/N.”

With wide eyes, she pried herself from Toph, trusting Zuko to make sure she didn’t cause any avalanches. Stepping to Sokka’s side, Y/N tried not to startle as he wrapped his arm around her hip. “Sokka, let me meet your grandmother before you steal me away!”

She felt smug satisfaction at how he flushed.

“Let me look at you, dear,” The matriarch ordered, though not unkindly. Presenting herself in the woman, she brushed off the scrutinous stare with a smile. “You’re very beautiful.”

“Thank you, erm- “

“Please,” She beamed, and all Y/N could see was the saccharine threat that Katara often fronted, “Call me Gran Gran.”

As the woman turned away, she swatted Sokka’s arm, meeting his gaze with a scowl. Stalking past him through the snow – which was harder than she had assumed – Y/N was followed by a curious flock of children tugging on her sleeves. Patient as a saint, she laughed with them, answering all of their burning questions.

Why is your hair like that? Why are your clothes red? Is that the same scary man who attacked our village? But he doesn’t look scary. Why is Sokka smiling at you?

Whipping her head around, Y/N met Sokka’s eyes. He was grinning like a dope, chin rested on his palm as Katara talked Gran Gran’s ear off. Somehow, he hadn’t realised that she had caught him staring, but the children soon fixed that; a snowball to the face promptly brought him out of his stupor. Had he hit his head on the way down from Appa? Whatever it was, it made her heart hurt and she had promised Toph a warm igloo anyway.

The sun was beginning to set behind the glaciated mountains on the horizon, illuminating the village in the evening light, dappling the ice with sunspots. She had never seen something so beautiful before, but as the sun disappeared, so did the warmth; the igloo more than made up for it.

As she sat with Zuko, Suki, and Toph – Sokka and Katara obviously busy whilst Aang promised the children some airbending games – Y/N grumbled to herself. Not only was she playing fake girlfriend, but fake girlfriend who was hated by the family. Well, it probably wasn’t hate. She wouldn’t blame Gran Gran for being protective over one of her two grandchildren. In fact, thinking of how her brothers reacted to Sokka, maybe she had it good.

Laid flat on her back, she listened to the gossip of the Fire Nation, of how Ty Lee was doing, and how Toph was seeing some weird stuff under the ice. Whatever it was, it couldn’t spike her interest enough to join in the conversation.

“Y/N?”She barely turned her head to see an anxious looking Sokka in the doorway. 

“Yes?”

He looked around the room at all the faces and fidgeted. “About earlier- “

“Listen, I don’t care, okay, Sokka?” She said, trying her hardest to not seem entirely mean, nor upset; Toph scoffed, muttering something that sounded like liar.

“Just,” He sighed, “Can we talk outside?”

Pulling furs back over herself, she looked pleadingly at her friends to rescue her, but to no avail. Trudging after Sokka, she was growing more and more vexed as they moved further from the village and into the cold. The moon began to rise in the sky, glossing the ice with an ethereal glow, which was perhaps the only nice part about being out in the bitter cold.

“What, Sokka?” Y/N finally huffed, putting her foot down. “Am I not being a convincing enough girlfriend for you?”

“It’s not that Y/N,” Sokka started, waving his hands in a panicked motion as if warning off a polar dog.

“Then what?” She interrupted, not having any of it. “Did you want me to hold your hand? Maybe give you a cuddle?”

He flinched at the venom in her tone. “No, Y/N, if you’d just- “

“Just what?” Y/N snapped. “What you asked of me what really inconsiderate, 

Sokka, but I did it anyway because I'm your friend – just your friend.”

“Spirits, Y/N,” He sighed, realisation passing behind his eyes.

“But it’s fine! I’m a great actress, Sokka, because I wouldn’t be acting. See? I can hold your hand, hug you, even kiss you if you needed it, but it hurts me.”

Looking down at the ice, Sokka kicked some snow under his boot, looking very ashamed of himself for a second. It pierced through her anger in a way that was unfair. Instead of dealing a final blow, all she could think to do was grab his hand and comfort him. Yes, she still felt she was in the right, but Y/N didn’t want one of her closest friends to suffer at her hand, retribution or no.

“Gran Gran shouted at me, y’know,” Sokka said, a small smile quirking at his lips as his eyes fell on his hand in hers.

Y/N frowned. “Why?”

“For thinking she was a ‘dumb old lady’ apparently,” He chuckled, meeting her eyes. “It seemed Aang had let slip that we weren’t actually dating, so she told me off for that.”

“You deserved that,” She grin, bumping his shoulder.

“And then she called me dumb, which I didn’t appreciate.”

His smile said otherwise, so Y/N pushed. “What did you do now?”

“Try to fake something I actually wanted.”

Shocked, Y/N dropped his hand, and for a moment his heart fell heavy in his chest. This was the perfect chance to be with her, he thought, now that the war was over and she knew her family was safe. Now they had autonomy, surely they could focus on each other.

“Y/N, I’m so- “

His apology was cut off by an insistent pair of lips, begging him to be quiet and just enjoy their moment. Deepening the kiss, she looped her arms around the back of his neck, the scruff of his unshaven hair brushing against her arms. His heart was soaring, hers no longer burning but glowing. She pulled back and reaching up to his face, Y/N felt the warmth of his cheek in the bitter cold, radiating warmer than the sun. Whatever light had been taken by the night was captured in them.

“Gran Gran likes you by the way,” Sokka said quietly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Says you wrangle those kids better than I do.”

“Praise Agni,” Y/N gasped, letting out a bated breath she hadn’t realised was stuck. “She does the same scary face Katara does.”

Sokka chucked, rubbing his nose against hers. “Don’t you worry, Y/N. Me and Dad are just as scared by it.”

With a giggle, she rested her head in the crook of his neck, basking in their embrace for as long as she could.

#atla #fic request #sokka x reader #fake dating #sokka x f!reader #zuko #toph #aang #katara #suki #the gaang #gran gran #fake it till you make it #anon request #angst #happy ending #missturtleduck

[padfootagain]

Such A Silly Game

Here we go with a second fic for Ben's week!! Today’s writing prompt was ‘a moment’. Join us on @benbarnesbirthdayparty​ to follow the event. This is a modern AU for Caspian! I am very proud of this little piece, I hope you like it.

Just so you know, it was meant to be a drabble. Then it became a regular one-shot, and turns out, it became a 7k-long fic... Ooops...

Anyway, enjoy!

WARNING for mentions of injuries, explosions and violence.

Tell me if you like my little fic :)

Word Count: 7365

"Lionheart is on the move."

"Copy that. Everything's clear all the way to the hotel."

"Have you checked the hotel itself."

"Of course. We're all good."

"We'll soon be there."

You ended the phone call, putting the device back in the pocket of your vest, and you nodded to your colleagues waiting for your signal a few metres down the street. The two of them climbed in the black car parked in front of the one you would be using tonight. You turned to your three other colleagues who stood by your side in front of the Narnian embassy.

"Get ready to leave," you ordered to two of them. "Marco and I will take care of the King's car. Stay close to us."

You patted the shoulder of one of your colleagues, who was younger than all of you. It was her first day as an official bodyguard serving the King of Narnia, and she was nervous as hell. After a long and difficult training, she was finally ready.

"Don't worry too much. It's Manhattan. The threat level is not that high," you reassured the young Denise. "Besides, you're paired with Reep! He's the best mentor you can have...  after me, of course."

"Ha... but Y/N here is too busy running the whole show, being the head of his Majesty's security to take care of the new recruits," your friend Reepicheep laughed at you. "Come on, let's get ready. The King will soon walk out of the embassy. And tonight, I pay for the beers!"

"Why the merry mood?" you asked, raising a playful eyebrow in surprise.

"Well, you've just said that I was a father now!" he replied, gesturing at Denise and making all of you laugh.

"Hey! I've been working with all of you for six months already!" Denise protested.

"Only as a trainee. Now, you're an official bodyguard!" Marco replied, nudging your new recruit.

"Congrats, by the way," you gave Denise an encouraging smile. "Now, go to work!"

"Yes, Ma'am!" your three colleagues chimed, and Reep and Denise walked over to the car behind yours.

One car on the front, one behind, along with three motorcycles came to complete the guard of King Caspian X. His diplomatic mission at the U.N. was about to end, only a few days left before you would find the quiet of your homeland again. Not that you complained about the charm of this city, but the threats were much greater in number on foreign soil for the King, which meant more work and more stress for you.

You had been working as his personal bodyguard for six years and been his head of security for two more. Eight years by his side, spending your days and nights thinking about his safety. You had protected him on every continent and in dozens of nations. And if it wasn't exactly recommended for you to admit it, you had formed a strong friendship with the King.

Or well, perhaps it was a little more than a friendship the two of you shared, but you were both painfully aware that you shouldn't act on it. Not in an easy way, at the very least. The King entering a romantic relationship with his bodyguard would bring the media on fire. It would eclipse every other project he might want to work on. And both of you would have to face hell. None of you were ready to take that step, or at least, you both assumed that the other wouldn't want to go through this. There were moments though when you would think like your feelings were shared, that he did see you in this tender light too. There had been a handful of moments, even, when you had thought that he might kiss you. It had never happened though. You reckoned that it never would. Besides, you knew the King well enough by now to be sure that he wouldn't risk putting both of you through all this mess if he weren't certain that his feelings for you were strong enough to resist the chaos.

You guessed that it meant that he didn't see this in you, after all.

The front door of the embassy opened, revealing the King confidently walking out. He was accompanied by two bodyguards who never left his side, no matter where he went. They would join the teams in the front car. You and Marco greeted the sovereign with a bow, and he nodded at the two of you, thanking Marco when he opened the door for him.

He settled in the back of the car while you sat in the passenger's seat and Marco would drive you through Manhattan.

"Is His Majesty ready to return to the hotel?" you asked, and he nodded once more.

You gave the signal to the other cars, and within seconds, you were on the road.

"Miss Y/L/N, you wouldn't happen to have a..."

But Caspian fell silent when you handed him a bottle of water and a box of aspirin before he could probably ask for it. He chuckled, accepting the medicine.

"Thank you. I guess I'm that predictable, huh?"

"You were to meet several other leaders today, I reckon anyone would end that kind of day with a migraine."

"How was your day? Not too much, I hope."

"Everything is ready for you at the hotel, Your Majesty."

He chuckled, before swallowing the drug and rubbing circles on his temples in an attempt to shush the pain that pierced his skull.

"That is not what I was asking, but I'm glad to know that too. Although, knowing both of you and your team, I had no doubt my room would be secured long before I would arrive there."

You couldn't refrain a proud smile.

"Thank you for your trust, Your Majesty."

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Our day was pretty uneventful," you finally answered, your smile widening by the minute.

"Have you celebrated Miss Amos's first day as an official member of staff yet?" he asked, and you felt your heart swell with affection towards him.

He always remembered everything. You wondered how he did it. How, despite all of his duties, he still thought about every single person who worked for him.

"We were thinking about celebrating tonight," Marco joined in.

"Get a bottle of champagne on my account," Caspian instructed with an excited smile. "It's always a good feeling to welcome someone in our little world."

"It is, indeed."

"I have a few files to go through before we arrive. So..."

He handed you his phone.

"If someone calls, I am either dying or peeing."

You couldn't refrain a laugh, shaking your head.

"You shouldn't joke about dying, your Majesty. And especially not with your security team."

"I guess not," he answered, struggling to refrain his smile.

He picked up a couple of files, and started working again.

He was lost in laws and treaties and numbers and statistics. He rubbed his tired eyes, but focused on the documents on his laps despite his headache. You guessed that he would remain silent for the rest of the ride, so you turned to look at the shining lights of Manhattan at night instead. It was a beautiful sight indeed, of lights stretched with speed and reflections upon the Hudson River. The loud noise of the busy city still managed to sip inside the vehicle, honking cries and shouts and the humming of motorbikes speeding up across the large lanes. It was a rhythm that didn't really suit you: loud, busy, never-ending. You much preferred the slower pace of Narnian lives.

Despite your wandering thoughts, you remained focused on what was going on outside your car. You reckoned that as the King's head of security, you never truly relaxed. You were always monitoring whatever was happening in his vicinity, always attentive to details in every scene that played before you. A habit that was hard to lose once off-duty, but you didn't really mind. Maybe it was because of how you felt for the king, you reckoned that it was no bother to you to always be thinking of him.

You were outstandingly good at your job, and Caspian was well aware that he owed you his life, and did so on many occasions. How many plots had you brought down before they would come to fruition as an attempt on his life? He didn't know the exact number, but he was pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to count them on only his two hands. You didn't tell him about these things though, except when you were worried that a threat might still be out there. Otherwise, he would learn about your work through Reep, most of the time. He reckoned that it was just how you were: too humble to bring your good work to the light it deserved. Actually, you simply reckoned that the King had more important things to do than to listen to threats that were not relevant anymore. You did tell everything to the Prime Minister though, she had asked for the reports of all your operations. But if you could take at least one worry off of your sovereign's shoulders, then you would happily do so.

It was because you were so competent that you had quickly been promoted to a higher position in the King's security team. All your colleagues liked to praise you in saying that if you hadn't been in the team, the King would most likely not be in such a good health today.

So, it really wasn't because of your incompetence, or because of the incompetence of anyone in your team, that the quiet ride to Caspian's hotel turned into such a dangerous situation.

Because there was no emails to be found between the perpetuators of the attack upon the King that night, nor were there any strange online activity to be monitored, nor any suspicious discussions over the phone to be listened to. Every step was planned face to face between their instigators, and there was no way you could have guessed that an attack was planned for tonight.

How did they know how to find the King tonight, you never really found out. There were many mysteries about this particular moment that would take years to be revealed. And many important things would unfold in the very short time during which the attack took place. Their consequences though would linger on for many, many years.

You were always surprised by how the followers of Caspian's uncle kept his fight alive, despite the fact that his attempted coup resulted in their leader's death. You guessed that loyalty, even when misplaced, had no end. And with a bit of thinking, you understood the feeling. You reckoned that nothing could ever break your loyalty towards Caspian.

If you were supposed to hold your loyalty to the throne, you were well-aware that you had shifted your allegiance to Caspian himself long ago. Ever since he had shared his biscuits with you on that sunny afternoon in the royal gardens of Cair Paravel. You had talked like two friends, basked in the warm sun and the distant whisper of the sea. That was the first time that he was fully Caspian with you instead of the King. That was when you had fallen for him. You remembered every second of it...

But the scent of roses was long gone and at the moment at stake, you were about to face the greatest risks you had ever taken.

It was so sudden, like a flash. Everything was normal in the busy street, and the next second the car before you was bursting into flames.

Marco hit the breaks just as your foot made the same movement against the floor of the car, as a reflex. All three of you were projected forward with the strength of the deceleration, before hitting back your seats.

"What's going on?" Caspian asked behind you, a little out of breath. "Is anyone hurt?"

But you weren't given an occasion to speak, as loud gunshots rang through the night, the bullets crashing against the bulletproof windows interrupting you.

"Get down, Your Majesty!" you ordered, and for once, Caspian was the one to obey an order without a complain.

You unclasped your seatbelt and moved to check on Marco, who was holding his head.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just banged my head against the wheel."

A new sequence of gunshots came in an outburst, but the glass was holding on for now. You looked around, trying to calm your breathing and your pounding heartbeat. No matter how panicked you were and scary the situation was, you needed to analyze what you had to be done. Assess the situation and act.

Assess and act.

"Your Majesty, are you hurt?" you asked, trying to control the shakiness in your voice as you scanned the street.

"No, I'm fine. Are you both okay?"

"We're fine."

Chaos was raging outside. People were running away to find shelter out of the street, abandoning their cars in the middle of the road in their panicked state. Which meant that the roads ahead were all blocked or would soon be. Anyway, ahead, the first car was burning in bright and tall red flames, completely forbidding any way out. The gunshots were coming from the right side of the street, you guessed from one of the buildings.

You reached for your radio.

"Does anyone copy?"

"Hear you loud and clear," Reep's voice came a little distorted through the radio. "Lionheart?"

"We're all fine. What's your status?"

"Unharmed. A bit bruised, but nothing to worry about."

"Is the road behind you clear?"

"No, blocked by a bus that was left there in the panic."

You checked your watch. Only a minute or so must have passed since the beginning of the attack.

"Stay put," you ordered.

No one answered from the first car, and you had to push your grief and worry for you colleagues aside for now. All that mattered at this precise moment was to get the King to safety.

"Your Majesty, there's a bulletproof vest under the driver's seat, put it on."

"Already done," Caspian replied. "What do we do? The streets are blocked?"

You nodded, and couldn't help but be impressed by how calm Caspian was despite the circumstances.

"I'm working on that," you replied, looking around the street again.

"We stay here and wait for help?" Marco asked.

"No, we need to get out of here, the windows won't hold forever."

"I agree with Miss Y/L/N on that one," Caspian nodded.

You spotted the entrance of a subway station a few dozens of meters away. You would have to cross the road, a piece of grass and another road that seemed completely blocked by a set of abandoned cars.

What if they had chosen this spot because they wanted to trap all of you in the subway?

But the next set of bullets made cracks run across the windows, and you reckoned that you didn't really have a choice.

"We're gonna aim for the subway, on the left."

"It's too far away," Marco shook his head.

"Reep," you called over the radio. "We're gonna make a run for the subway station on the left."

"Copy that."

"Get as close as you can with the car," you instructed to your colleague. "Your Majesty, stay down, and be ready to get out of the car quickly."

Caspian merely nodded, bracing himself against your seat.

Your colleague obeyed, starting the car again and driving as fast as he could towards the subway. But there was no way the car could pass between the oak trees that bordered the second road you had to cross. You had to get out of the car while still on the grass.

Reep and Denise stopped their car next to yours, turning the car to create a large protection for your team.

"What about the front car?" Denise asked as she and Reep joined your group.

But you shook your head.

"No response. And the priority is to get the King to safety."

Your young colleague nodded.

"Everyone in formation around the King," you ordered. "You all know what to do."

And indeed, there was no need for more words. You surrounded Caspian, using your own bodies to shield his. It was a quick run to the subway. Just one road to cross. But you would be in plain sight then.

"Your Majesty, are you ready?"

He studied the way your eyes were filled with fear. It was an expression that was easy to read on your features then. He spotted the sweat across your forehead, and the way your chest rose and fell more than usual. But there was determination as well as panic to be read in the frown that creased your brow.

He knew that this moment might be the last you shared. There was no reason to deny the truth. You were all risking your lives now, and he was painfully aware that it was his fault if you were in harm's way. Still, he reckoned that you wouldn't change a thing if you could. You would still choose to stand beside him.

There were many things he longed to admit, and many confessions he ought to make before dying, but now was not the time. Despite the urgency of this moment, despite the danger, he couldn't simply blurt out the fact that he loved you with all his heart, and had done so for years.

After all this, then, he decided. It would be the reason why you'd both have to survive this, so he could tell you at last.

"I'm ready, Miss Y/L/N."

You took a deep breath, giving him a short nod, before turning your gaze towards your goal.

You could make a stop behind a car, before finishing to cross the street.

"We aim for the cab over there," you instructed. "On three. One."

The four bodyguards gathered around their King, much to his dislike. It was their job though, to protect him at all cost, and he understood it. He understood that he was the King, and despite his country being a constitutional monarchy, his role was still key in the government and the health of his country's economy. He understood it, and he hated it.

You were right behind him, your arm reaching across his back. You would be shielding him on his right, and he was well aware that it might be the most dangerous position to be in at that moment.

Still, he remained silent, and let Reep position himself by your side, and your colleagues before them.

"Two."

Your heart was beating so fast, faster, you reckoned, that it had ever beaten. You were struggling to breathe, and yet, you were painfully aware of Caspian's scent of cinnamon and orange blossom.

You closed your eyes to focus, to gather your strengths. There was no mistakes allowed, any would most likely cost you your life, or worse, Caspian's.

When you opened your eyes again, you stared at the cab you were about to run to, only a few meters away. Despite your fear, your expression on your face was determined rather than afraid.

"Three!"

You all stood up as one man, running as fast as you could, although you remained bent over the King, making sure he was safe, four human shields covering your sovereign's body.

You counted how long you spent unprotected.

One, two, three, four, five...

The gunshots started, and a couple of bullets hit the pavement right next to your feet.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven.

You crumbled against the cab, your legs shaky with the adrenaline running through your veins while the gunshots went on, digging holes in the cab behind you.

"Everyone alright?" you asked.

You were met with four nods.

"The shooter is in the big building on the other side of the lane. I'd say third or fourth floor," Reepicheep said.

"I've spotted him on the third window of the fourth floor," you agreed. "But there's no chance we can aim at him from here. Better make a run for the subway."

"And if he wants us there?"

"Then we'll shoot whoever is inside. Keep your weapons at the ready."

Your gun was already in your hand, the safety long gone and your forefinger ready to pull the trigger while you held the weapon so tightly your hand hurt.

You had been trained for this. You didn't doubt your abilities. You only doubted your luck, it was the one thing you couldn't control after all.

"Alright, one more time. On three," you instructed once more. "One."

Bullets hit the car you were hiding behind again, and you shielded Caspian as well as you could. When the shooting stopped, he sat straighter again, his dark eyes fully black in the weak light of the street, with no way of telling where his irises started and his pupils ended. You stared at each other for a few seconds, both of you a little out of breath.

He rested his hand on your forearm, his touch delicate.

"Are you hurt, Miss Y/L/N?" Caspian asked in a concerned whisper.

But you shook your head.

"We need to move," was your answer, and the King merely nodded in response. He knew you were right. You needed to hurry.

"Two," you resumed your countdown, and your colleagues and you took back your protective positions around the King.

One final sprint and you would be in the clear, for now, at least.

"Three!"

The shots resumed the second you started towards the subway.

You counted the seconds again while bullets ricocheted against the pavements and the cars surrounding you. Glasses shattered on your right, the high-pitched noise added to the detonations.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...

You would have needed a couple more seconds, that was all. Just two more seconds, maybe three, and you would have reached the entrance and been able to take cover.

But you collapsed before that, just as the number nine rang in your head.

Caspian felt it. He felt that your hand slipped from his back, and your presence across his back and by his side disappeared too. He turned to check on you, and the scene he found was the one he dreaded most.

You hit the ground just as he turned to you.

His eyes grew round, and he made a movement towards you, but he was dragged away by the rest of his bodyguards.

"No..." he breathed, but it might just had been a shout for the pain that tore the word apart. It was simply too broken to come out louder.

Then he was pushed against a wall, and you were out of sight.

You were shot. You were hurt and it was all because of him. He had to go back and carry you to safety. He had to protect you just like you had protected him so many times before, just like you protected him just now.

"Unhand me," he ordered between grinding teeth. "All of you, unhand me."

If Marco and Denise obeyed, Reep stared back at his king with a stubborn look on his face that Caspian hated.

"Your Majesty, you can't..."

"That's an order."

"I'm afraid I can't obey this order, Your Majesty. You can't go out there for her."

The two men stared at each other, reading each other's anger and resolve in their eyes. Caspian's fear and panicked state was slowly turning into anger at the idea that he couldn't help you. And under other circumstances, he would have understood. He was the King. You had sacrificed yourself for him, and you risking your life would be useless if he walked back out there and got shot too.

But it was you. It was you, and he didn't care about anything else at that moment. Not about his country, or his duties, and certainly not his safety. You were lying on the cold pavement, just a few meters away from him, at best wounded and at worst dead. He would not leave you behind. He had things to confess, after all.

And on top of his fear for you and his panic rising through his body at the thought of losing you were added his regrets. So many of those, so many moments he had stopped himself from talking to you, from admitting how he truly felt, from holding you close, from kissing you.

It seemed simpler then, it seemed wiser too. He figured he had all the time in the world to tell you the truth. And now he was angry at himself, more than at Reepicheep, for letting so many of these moments slip through his fingers over the past years. And maybe he had let you down just as much as he had let himself by staying silent when he was so certain that he loved you. If he had let you down in the past, he was determined to never do so again, and certainly not now.

"Unhand me. Now."

"Your Majesty, if you get hurt, her sacrifice will have been in vain."

"I can't leave her there..."

"Your Majesty..."

"Get out of my way."

Reep heaved a sigh, knowing his King too well to keep on protesting. Instead, he did as ordered.

"I'll go with you then," Reep decided, and Caspian didn't complain.

Before he could add another word, Caspian was running to you, closely followed by his bodyguard.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and started to drag you towards shelter. With Reepicheep's help, he carried you to safety in just a few seconds, but he remained unprotected long enough for him to feel the stinging burn of a cut across his right arm. He merely winced though, and didn't let out a sound before all three of you were protected again.

Meanwhile, Denise and Marco had wandered further into the deserted subway and found no threat.

"Your Majesty... your arm..." Denise whispered, her eyes wide in concern.

"It's merely a scratch," Caspian brushed her remark away.

She looked for something to wrap around his wound to slow down the bleeding, but the King wasn't paying attention to her at all anymore.

"Miss Y/L/N? Can you hear me?"

His call was met by nothing but silence. Your eyes were closed, and a cut crossed your cheekbone, probably caused by your fall. He checked your pulse, but you were still breathing although your heartbeat was a little slow.

Caspian looked for your wound, but couldn't see any blood.

"Help me turn her to her side, she must have been hit on her back," he ordered, and Reep and Marco helped him to manoeuvre you so he could take a look at your back.

Sirenes echoed through the street then. The police and ambulances were arriving. But for now, you were still on your own.

After a careful examination, Caspian spotted a hole in the fabric of your suit, right under your right shoulder, and when he brushed his fingers across it, they were slightly covered with blood. He took his phone out of your pocket to shed some light on the spot, and he realised that your bulletproof vest had slowed the bullet enough for it to be still visible as it got buried in your skin and the first layers of muscles on the edge of your shoulder blade.

He heaved a relieved sigh. He was no doctor, but he reckoned that the wound in itself was not too severe. The strength of the impact must have been the worst part, he reckoned.

He gently put you on your back again, and resumed his efforts to wake you up.

"Y/N! Y/N please, open your eyes."

He ran his hand across your forehead and your cheek before cupping your face, his fingertips lost in your hair.

"Y/N... please... please, you need to wake up now. Y/N..."

Finally, your eyelids fluttered and opened, barely revealing the shade of your irises that Caspian dreamt about. And he reckoned he had never been happier to see your eyes.

"Ouch..." you let out with a wince.

He gave you a bright grin, tears shining in his eyes.

"Y/N... how are you feeling?"

"Been better," you admitted. "Where are we?"

"We've reached the subway. The police is here. Help is on its way."

"Have you... checked the perimeter?" You asked Reep.

"We're safe for now," Marco nodded.

"Happy to see that you are still the same," Caspian chuckled, his voice hoarse and a little weak.

"Are you hurt?" You asked, noticing the blood on his sleeve.

"It's just a scratch. I'm fine. We're all fine."

You made a movement to sit up, bit Caspian gently pushed you back down.

"No, lay down. Help is on its way. You need to rest."

"Your arm..."

"I'm alright, it barely brushed me. Stay down. You'll be fine."

He reached for your hand, for once not caring about the people around the two of you who witnessed the scene. It was so rare that he would let himself slip so far as to touch you in any way, and you felt overwhelmed by the chaste but loving hold.

But you were exhausted, and struggled to keep your eyes open by now.

You gathered your strengths to look at him, staring at his dishevelled hair falling before his dark eyes, and the beard covering his cheek, a little bit of sweat pearling across his forehead...

God, you loved him so much, it was almost embarrassing...

"Y/N, I need you to stay awake, okay?" Caspian's voice was low and deep and it sounded fragile now, begging. It was such a strange tone to hear coming from your King, you reckoned that you had never heard him beg for anything before.

"I'm so tired," you replied, although you were blinking in an attempt to open your eyes for good.

"I know."

"It's hard to breathe."

"You were shot. The vest stopped the bullet, but I reckon that the force of the impact was enough to knock you down. You could be more severely wounded than what we can assess now. So don't move, and stay awake while we wait for help."

"Take care of your arm first."

He exhaled loudly, a tender smile settling on his lips while his eyes filled with tears again.

Outside, the sirens rang closer again, and some gunshots could be heard from the distance. It was loud and chaotic and scary. Caspian didn't look away from your eyes though.

"You really have to always be this stubborn, don't you?" he asked, his voice too gentle for his remark, and as you thought about an adjective to describe his tone, there was no word that you could think of that suited more than 'loving'. And this tone of his made your heart melt.

Police officers finally reached your shelter a few minutes later, along with a team of paramedics. Reep guided them to you, and explained the situation, while you tightened your hold on Caspian's hand.

"As we've almost died, and it's a very short moment that'll soon end..." you whispered, so only Caspian would hear. "I think I can admit that... I really wish you could stay with me now."

But you were surprised when Caspian shook his head, giving you the most tender smile you had seen adorning his lips.

"I'm not leaving your side this time. As you said, we've almost died. Call it cliché, but it changes things."

You wanted to ask him what he meant, but the paramedics finally reached you, and you had to give them your attention instead.

"Take care of the King first," you ordered them, making Caspian chuckle.

You really would never change...

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 You hated hospitals. They were white and cold and filled with pain. The blankets and sheets were scratchy and the mattress uncomfortable. And there was no need to get you started on the food.

You were in one of these hospital beds now though, and had no choice about the matter. If the bullet had not made too much damage in itself, the impact had hit you with enough strength to break one of your ribs. You would stay in the hospital for a couple of days, and after being patched up, you had fallen asleep alone in your room.

Only, you weren't alone anymore when you opened your eyes again.

Caspian was asleep, sitting on a tiny chair with dark circles under his eyes that showed that he had barely gotten any sleep during the night. You guessed that he had passed out because of exhaustion rather than peacefully resting. His neck was twisted to a strange angle, and you could foresee the wince he would make as he would wake up with painful muscle.

You guessed that moments of peril did change things after all.

You could already think of the headlines if the fact that the King had spent the night in the hospital to stay with his bodyguard was to come out. Caspian didn't seem to care though, clearly, as he was curled in his uncomfortable chair by your side.

His arm was pressed against his chest in a tight bandage. He looked properly exhausted, yet, your selfish side was happy he was in this chair instead of the comfort of a bed. He was by your side, after all, how could you not enjoy the sight?

The sun was rising outside, still pale and golden above the skyscrapers while the city that never sleeps came a little bit more to life. You studied the way a few stranded photons got caught on Caspian's eyelashes and in his long dark hair. You measured the distance between your hand and his. Maybe a metre, at most, you would say.

You kept on staring at him for a while. A couple of minutes or an hour, it was hard to tell, you reckoned that you could have spent your whole life just looking at him. Despite the rush and danger of the previous night, and where you were now, there was something unbelievably soothing about watching Caspian sleep by your side.

When he finally stirred, blinking his eyes open and rubbing the sleep away from them, his gaze instantly settled upon your frame. He offered you a warm smile once he noticed that you were awake.

"Good morning, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted you, his voice hoarse in the young morning as he rubbed his painful neck.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," you answered with the same smile.

He scooted his chair closer to your bed and leaned towards you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Numb. I guess they must have given me painkillers."

"You got some morphine during the night."

"Explains a lot."

He chuckled, nodding.

"I guess it must."

"How is your arm?"

"It was a mere scratch, but I am royalty, so... I reckon the doctors are being zealous."

"How did you get hurt? Is it because I fell?"

He stared right into your eyes to answer, knowing you wouldn't like what he was about to say, but he didn't really care.

"No, I went back for you. I carried you back to the subway, with a little help of your colleagues, of course."

"You did what?!" you exclaimed, trying to sit up but falling back into the bed as soon as a jolt of pain crossed your back and chest.

Caspian was on his feet in the blink of an eye, gently pressing his palm against your shoulder.

"You have to lie down. You have a broken rib. Apparently, it's going to hurt like hell."

"That... might be a good idea... Don't think it's making me forget what you've just said though. What on Earth were you thinking?!"

"Is that really how you're supposed to talk to your King?" he asked, quirking a playful eyebrow.

"When you act so recklessly? Yes."

"So what was I supposed to do? Leave you there, alone on the pavement?"

"Yes!"

"That will never happen."

"Your Majesty..."

But just as you were about to protest, he reached for your hand, and made you fall quiet, the words stuck in your throat as his soft skin met yours. Your heart sped up, and you watched him setting his eyes upon your two hands. He slowly sat on the edge of your bed while you struggled to find back your voice.

"This has been going on for too long, don't you think?" he asked in a whisper. "Such a silly game we've been playing..."

"This?"

"Well, I could be wrong, and then I apologize for what I'm about to say. But I thought... I think you might feel like this too."

"Your Majesty..."

His lips curled into a sad smile.

"Do you think you could call me a different name one day?"

You struggled to swallow.

"I'm not supposed to."

"As if I've ever cared about your origins and mine..."

"People do care though."

"Yes... I guess they do."

"So... you can stay for a little longer, and then the moment will end as you pass this door, and we'll be back to a King and his head of security."

He looked up to stare at your eyes once more, trapping your soul in them, it would seem.

"Is that what you want? After all these years? Don't you think we have lost enough time already, worrying about what people might say about us?"

"Nothing's changed. You're still the king, and I'm still your protector."

"Things have changed though."

"Really?"

"I almost lost you. I saw you lying there on this pavement, thinking that you might be dead. I've always pushed back this moment because I thought we would have time, that 'later' would come, eventually. But the reminder that our time on this Earth is a precious thing was only too violent for me to ignore last night. We've lost years already, I don't want to lose more time."

"But..."

"Just... hear me out. Let me tell you..."

"We shouldn't."

"When you were shot yesterday... I thought... I thought back on these moments when I almost didn't stop myself. When I almost told you how I feel, and when I almost kissed you and... and there is nothing in my life that I regret more than to have let all these precious instants pass."

He heaved a sigh, shaking his head.

"I'm... I know it won't be easy. But I'm tired of not being honest."

"Your Majesty..."

"No need to bring that distance between us again now."

"But..."

"But I love you."

You fell silent. You thought that he did love you. You hoped so. You wished that he would. But hearing the three words pass his lips was something else entirely. It felt... overwhelming.

"I've loved you for a while," he went on, his cheeks turning crimson, and his gaze dropping back to your hands, unable to hold your stare. "I... there will never be anyone else."

"You should marry a princess or... someone... like that..."

He chuckled again.

"Even you don't know what that means. We're in the 21st century, don't you think that I could have a choice to marry who I love. As long as the woman my heart has chosen loves me too, of course..."

His voice trailed off, waiting for reassurance, for your answer. But you remained silent.

"I want to do this," Caspian went on, staring at you once more while he gently stroked your knuckles with this thumb. "I'm ready to face it. Life is too short, Y/N. Yesterday was the last strike for me. I can't... I can't go on like this. I can't go on seeing you everyday and yet not being free to kiss you, and to ask you about your day, and to talk to you for hours just because I want to know everything about you and I want to hear your voice all the time. I can't go on being jealous of every man you speak to, imagining that maybe you could fall for them instead of me. I can't go on wasting my life like this, Y/N. I've wasted years already. You know that I would do anything for our people, I would die without a second thought if it meant protecting our country. But you becoming queen would be a good thing for Narnia too, I know you would be perfect in that role. And I just... I need you. And I want you in that role, by my side. I want you as more than the head of security. Critics will be made, and journalists will invent scandals, but we can beat this. We can, and if you give us a chance, we will."

He grew silent again, waiting for your answer. Before you would speak though, you gave him a smile.

"You're jealous of the men I talk to at work?" you asked, making him laugh.

"Of all that I've said, is that everything you've chosen to acknowledge?"

"We'll pass to the declaration of your unconditional love for me in a minute," you answered, both of you chuckling despite the tears glimmering in your eyes.

"Yes, I am jealous of them," he admitted. "Yes, I love you. And I don't want to be with anyone else. So... what do you think?"

You could have answered that it would be difficult, yet, you wanted to try it too. You were ready to embrace the storm that was sure to strike you, if it meant finally being with him. You wanted to tell him that you were jealous of all these noble women he talked to at galas as well. You wanted to tell him that you regretted these moments you had let slip through your fingers just like he did.

But instead, fewer, more important words passed your lips.

"I think that I love you too, Caspian."

He seemed a little stunned, but then, the grin he gave you was the brightest you had ever seen graze his features.

He didn't find any words to answer to that statement, so instead, he did what he had stopped himself from doing dozens of times before. Instead of speaking, he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

And Gosh, you had been wishing and dreaming and waiting for this kiss for years, but was it worth the wait...

His lips tasted of bitter hospital coffee, and they were soft and warm against yours. His scent was overwhelming, making your head spin. His hold on your hand tightened, but it remained tender all the same. When he turned his head a little more, his lips brushing yours instead of connecting with them fully, you reckoned that your entire body was set on fire by the way your two breaths mingled against each other's mouth, and how warm the air leaving his lungs felt across your skin. Finally, you were there, holding on each other, kissing, breathing the same air.

For how long did you keep on kissing? A few minutes, or a few hours, you wouldn't have been able to tell. All that you were aware of was Caspian's kiss and the way it made your body tremble, and how he was out of breath as well. Your fingers were lost in his soft, dishevelled locks like they were made to belong there.

When you finally broke apart, both of you out of breath, he rested his forehead against yours.

"So... what happens now?" you asked after a long silence.

"Now... I'm catching my breath, and then I think I might kiss you again."

You laughed, shaking your head.

"No, I meant... about... everything else."

But it was his turn to shake his head.

"It can wait until tomorrow. Or later, at least. Now... let's just enjoy this moment, okay?"

"It's nice," you agreed.

"Then let's just enjoy it while it lasts. Let's make this moment as long as we can."

"For how long do you think we can make it last?"

"Well... I reckon that a lifetime would do."

 *************************************

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#benbarnesweek2020 #Caspian #caspian x reader #King Caspian #caspian fanfic #caspian fanfiction #caspian imagine #caspian x fanfic #caspian x #caspian x imagine #king caspian imagine #king caspian fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #writing

[mollymauk-teafleak]

that thunder in your lungs

A valentines day present for @spiky-lesbian, love you so much, glad you like this! From our Jupeter dads au but a little bit in the future 

Also on Ao3 where you can find the other fics featuring their daughter

-----------

Nureyev rarely felt so free as he did on a job.

It was almost giddying, wearing someone else’s face and someone else’s name, knowing that in a few hours he wouldn’t exist and could do anything he liked until then completely free of consequences. The waiting between jobs, the planning, that was the hard part, where he could only be himself- something that had never been an entirely safe haven. When he worked, he was unstoppable.

Or he had been. This time was proving to be very, very different.

Nureyev was dressed to the nines, armoured in makeup and jewels that weren’t his own, wearing a pretty, airy, glittery name and a life to match. His brightly painted nails were filed to points and his fingers had that greedy, confident itch to them, the security in knowing they would soon be holding something that didn’t belong to them. He should be having fun.

But he wasn’t. He carried a knot of anxiety inside him, one that refused to shift even as the plans came together and clicked comfortably into place.

Because across the almost sickeningly fancy party, a stunningly beautiful young woman moved through the crowd, looking devastating in her sharp tuxedo, hair pulled back into twin clouds of curls behind both of her heavily pierced ears. She was turning heads left, right and centre, pulling people’s gazes into her orbit as she sipped champagne and breezed through circles of young socialites like some glittering comet.

Which was not exactly great. Given that she had just as little right to be here as Nureyev did.

He stifled a sigh and made some excuse to the gaggle of people he’d been keeping at the edges of, leaving them to their idle and irritatingly wrong chatter about modern art. He made for the drinks table, meeting the young woman’s eyes and giving her a brief, stern look, giving her little choice but to head that way too.

Once there, he poured himself a tall flute of blue champagne and took a long pull until she appeared, leaning casually near him, enough that they could have an inconspicuous conversation under the lilting music.

“Having fun, daddy?” she hummed softly, eyes shining with innocence, “Your dress is very pretty.”

“I’d be having more fun if you were sticking a little closer to our directive, sweetling,” he muttered with what he thought was rather impressive patience, “...and thank you.”

Bianca tilted her head so the fine threads of gossamer thin gold that she’d weaved into her curls shone, “I don’t know what you mean, daddy. Seems like everything’s going well to me.”

He took a long, slow breath, “Darling, no one whose met you tonight is going to forget your face in a hurry. And seeing as we’re here to steal a necklace off the neck of the host, that isn’t a good thing. We need to be inconspicuous.”

“In that dress? Aw, daddy,” Bianca rolled her eyes in that infuriating way she’d inherited from her mother, like Nureyev had no idea what he was talking about, “I’m only having fun. This is my first proper run out, I’m just looking to enjoy myself. There’s so many pretty girls...”

“As long as it’s not at the expense of your safety, that’s fine,” Nureyev frowned, rolling his eyes and making a show of refilling his glass so the irritated note in his voice would be covered by the trickle of the drink.

“You’re so silly, daddy,” Bianca grinned playfully, “You told me all the time how much fun you had at places like this!”

Nureyev knew she was right and it only made his mouth set tighter, “Just...just be careful. We have to grab the jewels and be gone in another hour.”

“Of course I’ll be careful, daddy,” Bianca stood up straight, her gaze already roving over the crowds, her deep brown eyes lighting up with a mischief he knew all too well, “That’s what you taught me, right?”

And then she was off, she’d caught the eye of a young woman her age who was already smiling in welcoming anticipation. Nureyev was left to fume silently while letting none of it touch his face. He couldn’t decide which of the two of them she was being irritatingly similar to, himself or Juno, but it was raising his blood pressure to unsafe levels. Likely they were both partly to blame.

There was nothing for it then but to make his usual sweeping circles of the party- fortunately these private orbital stations had large, open rooms with few places to conceal nasty surprises- and be as twice as alert as he normally would be.

If you’re this bad now, how on earth are you ever going to let her go out on her own? A voice that sounded like his wife questioned in a voice that wasn’t unkind. Nureyev frowned and let his eyes pass lightly over her again, catching the moment as the latest girl who’d fallen into her orbit touched her hair and complimented it in a way that made his daughter grin dazzlingly.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew his daughter wouldn’t be content to stay with them on the Carte Blanche forever, only pulling jobs with one of her parents or her aunts watching like hawks from the opposite corner. She was too good for it and he was very aware of that, recognising the hunger in her eyes and the sparks of her brilliant mind. One thing Nureyev was certain of, he would nurture her talent and he would be ready to let her go.

It was just so hard.

Looking at her now, he couldn’t help but think of the very first job he’d ever taken her out on. She’d only been a few weeks old, small enough that he could hold her in one hand. Driven to desperation by only having one craft he was truly good at and now needing to feed two people rather than one, he’d strapped her to sling across his chest, made sure her face would always be covered by his own body and planned a very simple heist. It had only been breaking and entering to pilfer the jewellery box of some fabulously rich socialite without the sense to even post a proper guard, it was as easy to him as going to the supermarket would have been for someone else.

But still, Nureyev had been more terrified for that job than he had been to steal his very first apple from a street cart on a Brahman street at just five years old. He’d checked, double checked, triple checked every possible facet of the task and still it hadn’t felt like enough, his heart had been in his mouth every moment of the simple, smooth as silk job.

It had all fallen into sharp relief then, as Nureyev had agonised and fretted over things he’d been certain of how to do since before his twelfth birthday. He wasn’t just one man anymore, with only himself to look out for and worry about. There had been that second heartbeat, just a flicker against his own, stronger one, leaning towards his for support and comfort. There was his daughter.

Nureyev hadn’t run away from the change then and he wouldn't now. He’d gotten very good at accepting it but he didn’t have to like it.

So rather than giving his daughter another stern reminder to stay inconspicuous, he let her have her night. He got himself another glass of champagne and leaned against one wall to watch her sparkle, tasting pride with each sip of her drink. Melancholy too, but he could put that to one side for now, save it for a good, long cry in his wife’s arms when they got back to the ship. All part of being a father, he supposed.

Though time was soon ticking on, it always seemed to go so fast when wrapped in sparkling lights and fine drinks and dancing. Nureyev knew the telling off they’d get if they went back to the Carte Blanche without this necklace, seeing as it had the map to the family’s personal safe engraved in it’s stones. They couldn’t exactly drain the thing if they didn’t know where it was.

Bianca had been dancing with a succession of beautiful young ladies and as soon as she whirled out of the arms of the latest, Nureyev gave her another steady look and inclined his head. She pulled a bit of a face but was back in their same position at the drinks table before too long.

“Do we have to go already?” she murmured in a regretful tone, swirling her glass to watch the glitter dance inside the liquid.

“Go?” Nureyev gave her an uncomprehending look, “We haven’t even done what we came here to do! Would you like to go back to your Auntie Buddy empty handed and tell her you spent the whole party socialising, sweetling?”

His daughter gave him another smug smile and this time he knew it was all his traitorous genes at work, “Oh sorry, I tried to be obvious. Check your pockets, daddy.”

Nureyev did, as subtle as he could be, sinking his hand into the pockets of his sleek figure hugging dress and finding cold, square cut stones. He didn’t need to bring them out to know it was exactly the necklace they were here to acquire.

“I...how…” he could only stand and blink, not really caring how idiotic he looked.

Bianca grinned, clearly delighted with herself, “Careful, daddy, you’re being rather conspicuous.”

He quickly rearranged his face into indifference, though his daughter clearly knew him well enough to read the mix of shock, awe and incredulousness in his posture and keep grinning into her drink.

“Well. In that case, yes, we really do need to make a sharp exit. Any goodbyes you’d like to make before we do that?”

“Oh, I got all their numbers, don’t worry. Shuttle in five minutes?”

She didn’t wait for his reply, sauntering off into the crowd.

The trip back to the ship was a quick one, the Carte Blanche hovered behind one of Jupiter’s moons just a little ways away from the private station, happily cloaked in one of Rita’s shields. Bianca sat in the passenger seat, looking a little shamefaced now she was out of the music and the glitter, like she expected a telling off.

Instead, Nureyev waited until they’d passed out of any possible signal range the station might have and turned to her, reaching over and tucking a curl of hair behind her ear.

“You did very well tonight, darling,” he smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah?” Bianca’s whole face illuminated, her smile returning.

“Of course. You did magnificently. And…” he cleared his throat and swallowed, “If I seemed a little...hard on you, I apologise. I suppose it’s hard for me not to worry about you. Please don’t take it as me thinking less of your skills, I just…”

“I get it, daddy,” Bianca’s voice softened and she leaned into his hand, “It’s okay.”

“Yes,” Nureyev smiled tiredly and nodded gratefully, “And whenever you choose to go out on your own, you will be amazing. I know you will.”

Bianca’s cheeks darkened and she smiled coyly, “I mean...I’m not in any rush, right? There’s still a lot I need to learn. Mama still says my aim needs work sometimes and Auntie Rita’s only just started showing me how to take down firewalls and Auntie Vespa said she’d teach me how to set a bone…”

“Of course,” Nureyev couldn’t help but feel a wash of relief as he leaned over and kissed her forehead, “Of course, my darling.”

But the day would come. And Nureyev would be ready, as ready as he had been to turn his life upside down and inside out for the tiny baby she used to be.

He could never stop worrying about his Bianca. But he would never stop being proud of her either.

#jupeter #dads au #peter nureyev #bianca nureyev #fluff #love you baby <3

[yikesharringrove]

how do u feel abt doing smth like a modern au where billy is like , all this punk rock and teen angst and leather nd jean jackets kinda of thing and steve is the exact opposite of him with fluffy skirts and soft polos nd just really soft and they two have seen eachother but dont actually talk to one another until they have a school project and they just. fall in love overtime? basically , femme steve + punk rock billy falling in love.

(pt. 2) also!! happy 21st birthday 💓💕💗💖💕

The university had a strict core curriculum, meaning that Steve was ten minutes late for his Philosophy of the Modern Era class.

He couldn’t find the room, was wandering around in this basement with his schedule written on the back of his hand. He was peering at room numbers and muttering to himself 067 067 067.

“You looking for that philosophy class?” Steve turned around at the voice.

The guy was stomping down the hallway in big leather boots. His jeans were ripped and shredded, and he was wearing a black t-shirt with pink font reading Dog Park Dissidents. His denim jacket was covered in pins and patches and sharpie drawings. He had Silence = Death written on one of the pockets, Being nice IS punk rock was scrawled down one arm.

“Yeah, that modern era one?” The guy smiled and nodded, reaching forward to shake Steve’s hand. His eyes were a startling blue, lined with a thin smudge on black. His hair was wild and curly, shaved on each side into this beachy looking mohawk. He had his nose and his eyebrow pierced, along with several in his ears.

“Billy Hargrove.”

“Steve Harrington.” Steve could feel the tips of his ears go red as Billy looked him up and down. He was wearing something cute for the first day of class, a chunky white cardigan over a soft pink peasant dress. He had gotten up early to do his makeup well, and was late to class anyway because this stupid building was a fucking maze.

They set off down the hall together, looking at each door they passed by.

“Oh shit. Pretty Boy, I think I got it.” Steve flushed slightly at being called pretty, still not used to being able to dress like this in public. Billy wrenched open the door, and stomped in, not a care in the world for being twenty minutes late.

The professor raised his eyebrow.

“And what were you two doing out in the hall?”

“I’m sorry, we couldn’t find the room.” Steve’s cheeks were hot as he was standing at the front of the class.

“That’s okay. you have missed class introductions, to please say your names, pronouns and majors.”

“Billy Hargrove, he/him, double majoring in literature and social work.”

“Steve Harrington, he/they. I’m also a double major in education and early childhood development.” The professor made a note on his role sheet.

“Thank you, you may sit down.” Steve went for the back of the room, flopping into the first empty seat he could find, ducking his head as he quietly got his laptop out. Billy had stomped into the seat next to him, had gotten out a notebook and proceeded to doodle in it for the rest of class.

He sat next to Billy every Monday Wednesday and Friday from 9:20-10:35 and and outside of their ten minute search for the classroom, they had yet to say anything to one another.

It certainly didn’t help that Steve was harboring a little crush on the guy. He would watch him in class, the way he would doodle little sunflowers in the margins of his notes, smiling softly at them.

“So, for the rest of the semester you will be working in pairs. I want you to go through the readings we have completely and work together with the philosophers we have discussed to create your own system for the modern era. How do you believe society exists now?” Billy turned to Steve, grinning at him.

“You wanna be my partner?” Steve gave a sheepish smile, his heart racing.

“I, um. Yes. Yeah, I’ll be your partner.” Steve dug his phone out of the tight pocket of his skirt, trading with Billy. He put his number under Steve Harrington - Modern Era Philosphy.

“You wanna get coffee after class, start working through our beliefs?”

“Um, sure. I don’t have class until, like, 3:30 today.” Billy grinned again and fucking winked at Steve. He needed to calm the fuck down.

“So basically, a lot of my beliefs are based on the punk message.” Billy was sipping at his black coffee, had laughed and said should’ve fucking known when Steve ordered a large mocha with extra chocolate syrup, and whipped cream. “I’m a very live and let live person, but I believe everyone should live and let live. If someone is trying to dictate how others should exist, they’re fucking garbage.”

“Okay, I actually really agree with that.”

“That’s because you’re punk rock.” Steve laughed, but Billy’s eyes were serious. “No seriously, there’s nothing more punk rock than being unapologetically yourself.”

“When did you get into punk philosophy?”

“When I was in high school. My dad was a real prick, and I was angry, and a lot of punk is loud and pissed off and it helped, but then I started going to shows, and talking to people, and it’s not what you’d expect. Everyone at a show is like a weird family for a night. If someone comes in and tries to fuck with someone, the family deals. I can’t tell you how many fights I saw that broke out because someone was perving on a girl, and these other guys started protecting her. And that only grew as I started getting into queercore.”

Steve was listening to Billy, eyes wide as he described stories from shows, how he had jumped in on fights to defend the family, how he would walk girls home or to their cars parked a ways down the street, how he knew everyone would do the same for him.

“God, I wish I had a community like that. I didn’t really have anyone growing up. You know, token queer in a small town kinda vibe.” Billy smiled at him sympathetically.

“That why you came out to San Fransisco?”

“Oh yeah. Wanted to come somewhere where, this, didn’t matter.” He gestured to himself. “I just don’t get why it bothers people. I just do it because it makes me happy. I don’t know why it concerns anyone else.” Billy was nodding vigorously.

“Exactly. That’s the whole truth about being queer. People hate you for something that has nothing to do with them. It’s completely wack. Like if I’m with someone in whatever capacity, we’re both consenting adults. It literally doesn’t matter.”

“Do you think we could expand upon this enough for our project? Talk about how we feel the world should just stop caring about what other people do if it has nothing to do with them.” Billy grinned.

“I think we could make something happen.”

They began getting coffee after each class, taking through their project, finding resources to back up the ideas they had discussed. The more time they spent together, the more Steve liked Billy, liked how sweet he was, how positive. They talked about having terrible parents, how Billy’s dad had kicked him out at sixteen for being gay, how he had lived with friends, saving up to get himself through college. They talked about how Steve’s dad had found his stash of makeup and threw it all away, making sure it was ruined and broken. How disappointed his father was that he was studying to become a teacher.

There was one Friday they had met up and stayed all day in the coffee shop stayed until the 5 pm closing.

“You wanna come over? I have a single room. We can keep working.” Billy grinned at Steve like he always did, showing off all his white teeth. So they walked side by side to Steve’s room.

Steve kept his room neat, a habit left over from overbearing parents who would shame him into cleaning his room.

Steve’s room was exactly how Billy imagined.

He had soft white lights, a full length mirror on one wall. His bed was covered in pillows, duvets, and even a few stuffed animals. The wall above the bed was covered in pictures of Steve back home, several with a group of younger kids, and a lot with a blonde girl.

“This your girlfriend?” Steve snorted.

“No, that’s Robin. She and I are just really close friends.”

“What’s with the kids?” Steve blushed.

“I babysat all through high school, and those kids kinda adopted me as their pseudo parent. It was a lot of driving them all over town.”

“That’s cute. That why you wanna teach?”

“Yeah, I’m good with kids.” Steve had plopped himself on the made bed. He watched as Billy took off his heavy boots, placing them neatly by the door before stepping onto Steve’s plush grey rug. His socks were thick wool and had little cartoon dogs on them. Steve was in love.

Billy sat with Steve on the bed. He was taking a closer look at the photos.

“I could see that for you. You’re a caring type.” Steve looked down as his feet, could feel his face getting hot.

“Why did you pick social work?”

“When I was a kid, CPS would be called to our place like, once every few months. My dad was a real good schmoozer, so I would always just be left with him. I wanna be able to help kids get out of bad situations.”

“God, and you call me a caring type. You’re gonna save the world.” Billy laughed.

“The children are the future. I’ll save ‘em, you teach ‘em.” When Steve looked up, Billy was leaning closer into Steve’s space. He had a soft smile on his face. His eyes were bright and beautiful and so fucking blue. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you, what?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Why?” Billy still hadn’t leaned back.

“‘Cause I have a big dumb crush on you, and I think you have one on me.” Steve’s face was pink.

“I, uh, yeah. Go, go for it.” Billy laughed, taking Steve’s face in both hands. He leaned in, just gently pressing their lips together.

“So, was I right?”

“Yes. Very much so.” Billy laughed again, loud and sweet, pressing another kiss to Steve’s lips.

“You wanna go on a date? A real one? Not just us getting coffee and pretending we both weren’t totally into each other.” Steve snorted again.

“Yeah, I would really like that.”

#harringrove #yikes writes #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove

[koteosa]

here’s some modern au headcanons for the arcana ... it’s something I think about a lot

Asra

gamer memeing shitlord . he majored in minecraft you cannot convince me otherwise

plays A Lot of minecraft but also just enjoys any similar sort of game, sdv, animal crossing, etc. He’s really good at video games but he’s just fucking around . he likes to play online games and try his best to make everyone hate him in a really harmless sort of way . he heals the enemy spy . changes his display name and avatar to be exactly the same as someone else . tells people to go into the console and type unbindall

he plays games with his friends and he’s usually the top player so he just spends his time spoiling the shit out of his friends giving them good items carrying them through dungeons etc but not Julian, he tells Julian to dig straight down in minecraft . Julian doesn’t ever know what he’s doing in any video game so Asra trains him wrong on purpose, as a joke

anyway enough about video games (for now)

Asra lives in a van that he painted the exterior of himself, it was both a fun project and a very smug way to annoy people with this awful fucking hippie van strolling into town, eat shit

it’s decorated with crystals, furs, fairy lights, mason jars full of food For The Aesthetic, books, etc. It’s very cozy, cottagecore / bohemian and it’s ridiculously obvious that he’s into witchcraft. he just lets Faust explore because this isn’t real and I can pretend that a snake is exactly as well behaved as in a fantasy story

basically homeless by choice

drugs tw but I see him as the type to want to try anything and everything at least once so if he’s ever been offered A Drug (and he crashes parties for fun and for free food, so he’s got opportunities) he’ll try it Just To See, and this has resulted in some bad trips before, but Muriel saw him in the middle of one and then after he sobered up Muriel put his foot down and made Asra agree to only do these things as responsibly as possible, like, with supervision from a friend

still drugs tw but I also see Asra as a stoner but in the cbd edibles sort of way, a lot of this is because I headcanon Asra as having ADD (because I do and I want to project a little bit) so it helps him focus but also he just Likes It. the glove box of his car has like, chocolate/lollipop edibles stuff like that

goes between like super healthy elaborate meals with mushrooms and veggies and fresh meat and shit and then just eating nothing but cheez-its all day

style wise I see him as the type to wear a lot of tank tops, like, the loosest of tank tops so it hangs super low and long and you get some nice cleavage out of it, crystal necklaces, gold jewelry, pride pins/jewelry/etc (trans/nonbinary/bisexual flags), oversized hoodies with loud colorful patterns, joggers and other loose comfy pants, and either boots or slippers

he’s got like... the at home look that’s basically what I just described, and then the away from home look that’s got thirty layers and none of it makes sense and he just shows up in orange crocs With Patterned Socks and everyone who sees him just lets out the heaviest sigh

Asra getting home be like (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a l

He likes to go on long road trips completely at random and saves up money to go on more extensive trips like, out of the continent. It can be really hard to place him at any given time, especially because he’s extremely slow to respond to texts for a whole multitude of reasons. He just fucking vanishes sometimes and he doesn’t get that maybe people want to know where he is. He’s too solitary

He makes money either via street performances (magic, tarot readings, etc) or selling shit on etsy like handmade tarot decks, crystal necklaces, magic charms, etc. He Has Never Worked A Day In His Life and He Will Not Start Now

Responsibility? Don’t know her

People ask him really obnoxious questions sometimes and he makes outlandish lies to tell them for fun . Why do you live in a van? A house killed my parents

In the fall/winter he lives with Muriel or more to the point, he crashes on his couch for a really long time and Muriel’s landlord doesn’t need to know about it for rent purposes

Julian

he’s a highly paid doctor and your mother would love it if you’d marry him if not for the fact that he looks like he never left his teenage emo phase

PIERCINGS

There’s DEFINITELY at least one piercing on his d

he lives with Portia and Mazelinka and tries to handle all their expenses but Mazelinka won’t fucking let him

soundproofed his room but not because he’s a youtuber or anything but because he uh. y’know what I’m gonna let y’all figure this one out on your own

goes to like............. lgbt friendly bdsm clubs every now and then looking for someone to step on him and call him garbage it’s for his mental health you don’t understand

black turtlenecks . silver jewelry . distinguished but Edgy as well, black boots, winklepickers, doc martens, ohmygod this is my SHIT I’m giving him red plaid pants and a reversed cross necklace and a leather jacket that says some radical shit on the back and Lots of Rings . black jeans with tears in the knees and black eyeshadow, demonia boots, leather gloves, hhhhhhOHmy GOD

catch him at home in black leggings and a my chemical romance tshirt with holes in it . he wakes up in the morning with yesterday’s makeup and he just cleans it up a little and that’s good enough

fairly small bedroom because he’s usually never at home, but it’s still pretty clear what he’s into even if it’s not super decorated or elaborate, kind of just Default Room but with his stuff arranged throughout . band posters, black furniture, a bed that looks like a depressed vampire sleeps in it, a bookshelf but most of the books are scattered around his desk, bed, and the floor. there’s a taxidermy skull on display somewhere because it’s just so dramatic you gotta love it

plays a black electric violin

extremely out of tune with pop culture he still listens to 70-00s music and he doesn’t know what a minecraft is or why Asra keeps yelling CREEPER when he comes into the room nor why Portia yells back AW MAN

I googled it and he qualifies as a millennial but I still see him as such a fucking old man who doesn’t know how to use electronics

despite being a doctor he’s so unhealthy . he eats nothing but depression meals (or just, nothing) unless someone forces him to sit down and eat an actual meal . No Julian whiskey does not count for your daily water intake

Malak probably happened because Julian wouldn’t stop feeding every black bird he saw just for the aesthetic and that was like 17 years ago but they still show up at his window expecting almonds or whatever the fuck . he changes houses but they’re too smart . you try to be a cool gothic thespian with a raven that will pose on your arm ONE time when you’re a teenager and they just never stop coming

sad lonely no friends hasn’t been laid in six years because he’s too busy and no longer remembers how to form meaningful relationships. Portia keeps being like so I met this really hot (insert gender here) and like idk I think they’re into goth dudes............... just saying...................... and he’s like am I really so pathetic that I’m going to let my baby sister set up blind dates for me? Yes

would drive something very goth like a hearse or some shit if not for the fact that his family would make sure he ends up in a coffin in the back of it if he drove up in that shit . please . buy a normal fucking car . Julian . oh my god

he starts quoting melodramatic poetry at the slightest inconvenience . he is that “All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread. My cat stole my fucking garlic bread” meme

been arrested multiple times for general rowdiness but also for political activism . at this point Portia/Mazelinka will just sigh and pay his bail and they don’t even ask what he did this time . how does he still have a job? I wish I knew

theater kid

Muriel

lives in a rundown apartment in the shitty part of town because it’s all he can afford, it’s quiet, and no one will try to visit him (except Asra) because no one wants to go to THAT part of town . but no harm will likely ever befall him because he’s 6′10 and like three million pounds of raw muscle with battle scars like you gonna fuck with that? really?

even if he got robbed it wouldn’t matter because A) he doesn’t own anything B) Inanna will chase the thief away

depression man staying in his quiet rundown dark apartment distracting himself with idle hobbies and taking care of his dog to prevent the encroaching ennui from tearing him a new asshole

changes jobs frequently both because he never stands out therefore never gets taken on full time after the part time trial period, AND to protect himself from the horror of being known

works mostly things like construction, auto repair, dog sitting/walking/etc, woodworking, mostly hard labor but if he can convince granny to let a very scary but completely harmless man look after her bichon frise for the weekend then he’s pretty happy about that

in a similar manner, he orders everything online so cashiers/etc won’t start to recognize him. delivery workers leave everything outside his door and he just drags it inside after they leave like an itazura kitty coin bank

goes camping a lot because staying cooped up in his apartment is super bad for his mental health and he doesn’t like to take walks through the city for a multitude of reasons. he takes Inanna on walks through the woods instead

Asra is his only friend and that’s fine (it’s not fine)

convinced therapy doesn’t work and he wants nothing to do with it

doesn’t like using electronics and only keeps a few things around his house so Asra can use them when he’s around . Muriel has a phone (that Asra got for him) so he can text Asra, check the time, check the weather, google questions, and like, nothing else

pretty much only happy when something is about dogs. he wants to go to the pet store and look at the dogs but he needs Asra to go with him so Asra can distract the workers and Muriel can look at the puppies in peace

dresses in blacks, grays, greens, and browns for the most part, jacket with the hood up, tank tops, dark jeans with tears in them, brown boots with mud stains on them . functional, not particularly stylish, and if he’s going to be in public he doesn’t want to make it easy for anyone to see his face. at home it’s mostly no shirt + sweatpants/joggers/etc. doesn’t accessorize or put in any real effort. he doesn’t care what he looks like (because he’s convinced he’s not much to look at anyway)

lives that super eco friendly life like Asra does but it’s more that he just feels comfortable living like he’s always on a camping trip

he doesn’t want to eat junk like Asra does but if Asra shows up with mcdonalds then well he can’t really say no

the type who uses something until he absolutely cannot use it anymore instead of just buying a new one

has never been to a doctor, dentist, etc Ever. the most he can do is take Inanna to the vet because he loves her so much

drives a very old pickup truck with like, chipped paint and mud stains. he’d take better care of it if only anything in life mattered

didn’t go to school

Portia

I like to think that she took on a groundskeeping job at Nadia’s very expensive large house and they fell in love and now Nadia pays for everything and Portia just spends her time gardening, playing with Pepi, and like idk running a vlogging/gaming youtube channel

200 videos of Pepi on her youtube channel with 4 million views each bare minimum . takes random videos of cats where she has to audio edit it to shit so you can’t hear her high pitched squeals of delight

minecraft let’s play part 30 where her, Asra, Nadia, and Julian play together and it’s extremely chaotic because Asra and Portia decide to gang up on Julian who does NOT know what he’s doing, and then Nadia surprises them all by not being the bigger person and instead tricking Julian into some elaborate trap where he steps on a trapdoor and falls 15 blocks into some lava and he looks up and all he sees is Nadia’s smug fucking avatar looking down at him

nightcore. it’s just not FAST enough

wears sweaters with cats on them. generally dresses in warm colors + brown/green, it’s like a very soft cozy look that you could go camping in or just generally be outside and get grass stains and whatnot. cute, functional

likes to make Julian do things for her like drive her places etc because like, he will. he always will

really likes social gatherings with her friends; sleepovers, beach trips, sitting at mcdonalds and pouring all their fries into a pile etc. tries to get Julian to go with her but he’s Just So BUSY. she makes fun of him and makes him drive her to it, then manages to convince him to stay

cottagecore aesthetic . she just thinks it’s so cute to have the little mason jars and decorate everything with leaves and flowers and BEES and whatnot . would love to live in a little cottage with a farm if she could

her room has a big cat tree in it . green wallpaper with yellow flowers. pressed flowers into books, an extremely cozy bed, fairy lights, it’s very farmy but also there’s a lot of electronics. she’s got a lot of 00s games, like, right in that ps2 sweet spot

nicknames all of her pokemon

she spoils the ever loving shit out of Pepi. She’s got a little cat harness and they go on walks through the park together

I don’t have a lot to say about the other two I Am Sorry

#the arcana #julian devorak #asra alnazar #muriel #portia devorak #nix hydra #text #writing #modern au #headcanon #the arcana writing

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 3

This is the third chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3.

Prev | Next

Cool fingers curl into Eren’s hair, and they tug gently, causing Eren to pull his mouth away from Levi’s wrist with a gasp. Warm heat blooms in Eren's stomach and swiftly spreads outwards, until he can feel the tingle of warmth in his fingertips. He feels like he’s just had a warm mug of cocoa, and he’s also a bit disoriented and groggy. That grogginess is why Eren is a second too late to stop himself from swiping a lick across Levi’s pale skin, sweeping up the little red droplets forming where his fangs pierced the skin.

Eren's appalled at himself, and the feeling only intensifies when his cheeks grow hot. He finally has enough blood in his body to blush, but he almost wishes that he doesn’t. His body is warm and content, but his mind is a frenzy. Eren opens his mouth to apologize, but the words clog in his throat when he hears Levi hum appreciatively.

“Seems like your instincts are good for something,” Levi says, swiping his thumb over the bite mark as he takes his arm back.

Eren stares at Levi’s wrist, at the small wounds that are already closing.

“I—how is that—”

“Vampire saliva has a bit of healing power,” Levi says, reaching into the front pocket of his pants and pulling out a small travel pack of tissues. “It’s nasty as shit, but at least it has a purpose.”

Eren watches as Levi carefully wipes his wrist off with a tissue.

“So I was supposed to do that?” Eren asks.

Levi looks up at him but doesn’t speak, a silent request for him to clarify.

“I, uh—” Eren clears his throat and hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels—and oh God, that’s Levi’s blood that he’s blushing with —before he continues. “Licking you.”

Levi nods.

“Unless you’d prefer that I bleed all over the table,” the man says.

“No,” Eren says, still staring at Levi’s wrist. “Definitely not.”

Levi tucks his tissues back into his pocket and then rotates his wrist, testing the movement. After a few rolls, he seems satisfied, and he clasps his hands together on the table before directing his attention back to Eren.

“Alright, kid—”

“Eren.”

“...What?”

“Eren. My name.”

Levi stares at him for a moment, but Eren just holds his gaze until the man huffs a little sigh and begins again.

“Eren, I’m going to make a deal with you. I’ll teach you what you need to know, and you can drink from me until we figure something else out. Sound good?”

Eren frowns.

“What do you get out of it?”

“I get to know that there’s not some uneducated vampire running around killing humans because he never properly learned the rules,” Levi says.

Eren winces, thinking briefly of his mother before he nods.

“I agree then,” Eren says, but he frowns again. “Levi, you’re human, right?”

“You wouldn’t be drinking from me if I wasn’t,” Levi said, leaning back in his chair.

“How do you know so much about vampires? I mean, I didn’t know they were real until… You know...”

“Ah, good question,” Levi says, and he gets up.

Eren watches curiously as Levi walks to a filing cabinet in the corner of the room by the window. Levi pulls open one of the drawers and plucks something out of it, though Eren can’t see what it is from his spot at the table.

“Catch,” Levi says, and he turns around and throws something without any other warnings. Eren scrambles to grab it out of the air, but his stomach drops once he sees what it is.

The warmth from Levi's blood seems to flood out of him, and Eren sits, frozen, as he stares at the small wooden stake in his hand. It’s no wider than a ruler, barely longer than a pencil, but it’s sharpened to a point that Eren is sure would have no issue piercing his flesh.

“I’m a hunter,” Levi says. “Or I was, anyway.”

“A hunter,” Eren echoes, his gaze still locked onto the stake in his hands.

“A vampire hunter,” Levi says as if Eren needed clarification.

“Oh,” Eren says.

“Don’t worry,” Levi said, “I’m not in the business anymore. Even if I was, I know which vampires need to die and which don’t.”

Isabel’s words echo in Eren’s head. ‘Levi’s never wrong.’

“And I’m not one that needs to die?”

“No,” Levi says, and he walks over to Eren and takes the stake back, though Eren doesn’t feel any better with the weapon in Levi’s hands. “You’re one that needs to be taught. As long as you learn, I won’t have to do anything drastic.”

Anything drastic. Like stabbing Eren in the chest.

“Right,” Eren says, but his voice is wavering.

Levi sets the stake on the table between them before going back to his seat, and Eren hunches in his chair from the weight of the silent threat.

“Hey,” Levi says, and Eren reluctantly drags his gaze up to meet Levi’s. “Relax. The only reason I’d ever have to hurt you is if you ended up like those freaks who crashed your birthday party.”

Levi raises his arm to show Eren, wrist up.

“We’ve already stopped that from happening,” Levi says. “I only showed you the stake because you asked.”

“I just asked how you knew about vampires, not for you to show me your weapons,” Eren grumbles.

“My bad,” Levi replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I didn’t know you would feel better not knowing. Better keep all the other weapons concealed so that I can use them on you without you expecting it.”

Eren sits up straighter, his eyes darting around the room.

“Other weapons? What other weapons?”

“Oh?” Levi raises his eyebrows at Eren. “Here I thought you didn’t want to be shown.”

“Well, if they might be used against me, then I’d rather know!”

“That’s why I showed you the fucking stake, you dumb brat. You shouldn’t have complained.”

“Okay, I’m sorry!” Eren exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Will you show me where the other weapons are now?”

“Fuck no.”

“Wha—”

“How about this: I’ll show you one concealed weapon after every lesson. Gain trust on both sides.”

“I thought you did trust me!”

“I said I didn’t think you had to die, not that I trusted you.”

Eren groans in frustration, dropping his head onto the table.

“Okay,” Eren mumbles, his cheek pressed against the wooden surface. “Whatever. I agree.”

He turns his head to look up at Levi, who is already staring down at him.

“Can you at least tell me how many there are?”

“Hmm…” Levi begins, and for a moment Eren is hopeful. “No.”

Eren sighs and presses his forehead against the table, resigned to the situation. It will be fine, right? As long as he doesn't go “feral,” as Levi put it, the weapons won't matter.

...He just has to make sure to never tell Mikasa.

“You’re looking a lot more lively now,” Levi says, and Eren raises his head.

“What do you mean?”

“The other night, when you came here for the first time,” Levi explains, “I could tell you were starving yourself.”

Eren blinks.

“Is that why you…?”

“I gave you the blood as an apology for the garlic, but that was part of it, yes.”

Levi reaches out, and Eren tenses as the man’s hand comes up to his face. Levi’s hand falls on his cheek, and Eren freezes, holding his breath. The man’s eyes betray nothing as he tugs the corner of Eren’s mouth with his thumb.

“You could pass as one of living like this,” Levi says, pulling his hand away.

Eren blinks up at Levi, his cheeks burning up again, and the imprint of Levi’s cold hand on his face still lingers on Eren’s skin. He barely resists the urge to cover up the spot where Levi touched him with his own hand.

“I-I’m assuming that’s good,” Eren says once he’s a bit calmer.

“That’s the ideal,” Levi says, pointing at his own lips with his finger. “Your fangs were so big last week, I could see their shape even with your mouth closed.”

Eren instinctively covers his mouth with his hands.

“It was that obvious?”

“Anyone familiar with vampires would notice.”

Levi frowns for a moment, shifting his gaze away from Eren.

“You… Before me, when was the last time you drank?”

“I think when I turned,” Eren replies. “I don’t remember much. I just… I woke up on the floor of my house with blood on my mouth. I called the police right after.”

“...I see.”

“Why?”

“We don’t need to talk about it right now,” Levi says quickly.

Now it’s Eren’s turn to frown.

“You brought it up. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Levi closes his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“Just tell me,” Eren says firmly.

“Well… Under normal circumstances, it should always be like it was for you this week. After getting blood, you’ll get thirsty again within a week, give or take, if you’ve had a healthy amount.”

“What’s considered a healthy amount?”

“Depends on the human you’re drinking from and how fast you’re swallowing the shit up,” Levi says, “but usually you shouldn’t drink any longer than five minutes. That’s why I stopped you, so you learn my limits.”

Eren nods, starting to get a vague idea of what Levi was trying to say. He remembers Levi’s fingers in his hair, gently urging him to stop.

“So the fact that I went without for months…”

“It’s an anomaly,” Levi says. “Either you’ve got a stomach of steel or you drank too much the first time.”

Eren’s stomach twists. He doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

“What are you saying?”

“You said you drank the night you turned. Do you remember who you drank from?”

Eren wants to vomit.

“Stop.”

“It’s just an idea. I wasn’t there; I’m not going to pretend like I knew what happened.”

“But you’re saying that I fucking drank from my mom. Drank too much .”

“Like I said, it’s just an idea—”

“Are you trying to say I killed my mom?” Eren snaps, pushing himself to his feet.

“No,” Levi says quickly, his gaze dropping to Eren’s tight grip on the table and then back up to his eyes. “Of course not. If you were attacked, then she would’ve been dead before you got to her—”

“So I did exactly what those fucking monsters did to her!” Eren exclaimed. “Is that what you’re trying to say to me?”

“I’m not trying to say anything like that—”

“Then, what the fuck are you trying to say? ” Eren snaps, clutching the table in an attempt to keep himself calm, but he can’t help it. The warmth in his stomach has risen to his chest and now it’s boiling and he thinks of his mother, of what she looked like, and he thinks of her throat.

Eren is so fucking stupid. Of course, he drank from her. How had he not seen that before? He had repeated the fact so easily before. The day I turned was the first time. Why had he not thought about it for even a second? He was so focused on not having any more blood, focused on clinging to his humanity. In reality, the only reason he was able to cling to that false dream for so long was because he was a monster—because even among monsters, he had done something that he shouldn’t have done.

“Eren,” he hears, and then there’s a hand on his arm, and Eren recoils, instinctively yanking his arms away.

It’s only when he hears the crash that he realizes he was still clutching the table.

He stares at the table in shock. It’s across the room now, flung onto its side. Its legs knocked over a potted plant by the door, and the base of it slammed into the wall and knocked down a painting.

Eren is shocked into silence, and he steps away from the table until his back is against the wall. When he looks down at his hands, they’re shaking. His whole body is shaking. There’s violent knocking on the door, and Eren hears Isabel and a voice he doesn’t recognize desperately asking if everything’s alright.

“We’re fine,” Levi shouts, and the banging stops.

Eren raises his head, eyes wide with shock and fear, fear of himself.

“I-I don’t—I don’t know how—I’ve never—I didn’t know —”

“It’s alright,” Levi says, and his voice is soft, as if he’s talking to a child and not a monster that launched a wooden table across the room.

Levi approaches him slowly, but those hesitant steps make Eren flinch, wishing his back wasn’t against the wall, and Levi stops.

“Levi—”

“Sorry,” the man says, cutting Eren off. “I shouldn’t have—It wasn’t my place to ask or imply something like that.”

“I… No… That’s not…” Eren swallows, dropping his gaze back down to his shaking hands. “You don’t need to apologize. I shouldn't have—I could’ve hurt you. I didn’t know… This hasn’t happened before.”

Eren slowly closes his open palms into fists, hoping to still his shaking a bit, and he looks at Levi again, who is still standing in the center of the room.

“You’re not upset?” Eren asks quietly, and Levi shakes his head.

“It was my fault.”

“It is not your fault that I fucking threw a table.”

“It’s my fault that you got worked up like that,” Levi says, and he takes a slow step forward, his eyes pinned on Eren, watching for a reaction. “My curiosity got the better of me.”

“It’s—” Eren swallows, “it’s okay.”

Levi reaches out once he’s close enough and takes hold of Eren’s fist.

“Consider this lesson two,” Levi says. “When you have enough blood, all of your abilities are amplified. That’s shit like healing, better senses.”

Levi carefully opens Eren’s hand back up. Eren’s nails have left little indents in his palms. Eren didn’t even notice. He didn’t think he’d put that much force into it.

“And strength,” Levi says. “It should get easier to manage with experience.”

“So I won’t be throwing tables all the time?” Eren asks, desperate to lighten the mood, to distract his mind before he loses his cool again.

Levi looks up at him curiously, but he nods.

“I’m going to need you to put that back, by the way,” Levi says, releasing Eren’s hand.

Eren looks over Levi’s head at the table still across the room and approaches it cautiously, as if it’ll retaliate against him, as if it could seek revenge. When he tips it back onto its legs, the table is much lighter than he imagined, much lighter than it should be. He’s slow as he pulls it back to the center of the room, not wanting to do anymore damage.

When the table is back in place, he looks around the room and sees that Levi has moved. He’s kicking the dirt from the fallen plant into the corner—a temporary solution. Eren hurries to help clean up, picking up the picture that had fallen off the wall.

Eren pauses as he looks carefully at it. It’s a picture of Levi, but he’s far younger, a child. He’s sitting at a kitchen counter in what Eren assumes is Levi’s childhood home. There’s a woman leaning across the counter, handing him a plate of pasta. There’s a cardboard sign taped to the counter, written in messy crayon. “Kuchel’s Kitchen.”

“Less snooping, more cleaning,” Levi says, smacking Eren in the back with something large and heavy.

“Okay, sorry...” Eren mumbles, hanging the picture back up before turning to see what Levi hit him with.

The man is leaning against the table, a stake the size of a small baseball bat in his hands.

“What the—Why the fuck would you need one that big?! How would you even use—No, how the fuck did you hide that in here?”

Levi just shrugs, but he also hoists the stake over his shoulder and points it at Eren. For a moment, Eren is confused, but then he sees Levi’s hand jerk forward, and Eren immediately dives to the ground before the man can chuck the thing at him like it’s a wooden spear.

Eren hears a brief chuckle, and Eren looks up to see Levi with the stake in his hands again, though with it lowered to the floor like a cane instead of pointed in the air like it was a moment ago. Levi’s not smiling, but there’s something brewing in those sharp eyes that looks like mischief, and Eren scowls.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I won’t disagree.”

Eren huffs at Levi’s response, pushing himself back to his feet. Levi moves the stake so that it’s leaning against the table, and what little shift there was in his expression flattens out into something more serious.

“I could instruct you more today, but you’re going to need to come back to drink again anyway, so I might as well spread the lessons out.”

Eren nods, and Levi rubs his eyes.

“Besides, I’m fucking tired. Not all of us are nocturnal.”

Eren rubs the back of his head sheepishly and nods.

“Yeah, sorry for coming so late.”

Levi just waves his hand dismissively at Eren's concerns.

“Just come whenever you start to feel thirsty. The sooner we can figure out how your body handles blood, the sooner I can get you set up with a more permanent partner.”

“Partner?”

“Someone you drink from on a regular basis. Someone you trust. Could be a lover or a friend… Some vampires who don’t have anyone pay for partners.”

Eren nods, but he can’t imagine choosing a partner to drink from, mostly because he’s still reeling from the fact that he has to consistently drink blood at all.

“Bring it up with your friends,” Levi says. “Those two you came with the other day. They already know, don’t they?”

Eren nods again, and Levi, seemingly satisfied, leads Eren out of the break room and through the kitchen. When they enter the main dining room, Eren sees Isabel and Furlan sitting at the only table not cleaned and set up for the night. Isabel has her mouth open, prepped to ask questions, but a look from Levi seems to have her holding her tongue for now.

“Uh,” Eren begins as Levi walks him to the door, “thank you. For the lessons and for…”

He gestures at Levi’s wrist.

“And sorry for lashing out at you,” Eren finishes, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Levi just waves his hand dismissively.

“Don’t worry about it. I get it. Now get going, brat. I want to get some fucking sleep.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eren says, turning to push open the door, but before he steps out, he looks over his shoulder at the man. “See you later, Levi.”

“Mhmm.”

Eren manages a smile before he slips out the door, walking out into the night.

#ereri riren #riren #riren fanfic #ereri fanfic #ereri #fanfiction

[youbloodymadgenius]

The Viking King and the Pancakes (Ivar x reader)

A/N: Modern AU but not exactly Modern!Ivar, you’ll see. 

This is not the second part of Pancakes in Bed again? But if you haven't read it, it would be better to read it first. Here 

Thanks to @inforapound​, without whom I couldn’t do anything 💖 And thanks to @ivaraddict​ for this precious gif 💖

Summary: the reader wakes up and finds out that she is not alone in bed. When she realizes who is lying next to her, the shock is even greater. 

Warnings: None besides my wacky ideas ; shaggy dog story. Ah yes, swearings too. 

Words: 2136

Lazily opening your eyes, you startle when the sound of snoring wakes you completely.

Snoring?? How could this be?? You have been sleeping alone for… for… weeks? Months? So long that you actually aren’t sure… It could even be years…  

Immediately you are wide awake and screaming as you realize that a man is lying next to you. In your bed! Under your sheets! A wave of panic hits you. What did you do last night? Had you been drinking? Eating mushrooms?

Where did he come from? How did he get there? And more importantly, who is he?? And… did you have…? Oh, no, no, no, no! Looking under the sheets, you see that you are still wearing your pajamas. Phew!!

Releasing a loud sigh of relief, you hear the stranger growl as he shifts in the bed. Looking at him carefully, you are frightened – there's a man you don't know anything about in your bed! – and also fascinated – from what you can see, his muscles are… impressive…

It's highly inappropriate, but you are drooling.

Move a little more so I can see your face, you urge him silently.

It worked! Rolling onto his side, the man slowly faces you and…

FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!

"By the gods, who are you?"

From his thick accent you know he's not fluent in English. But you still understand. Which is good, as your knowledge of Old Norse is limited to "Du kan ikke drepe meg!" Although, thinking about it, telling him he can't kill you might not be totally stupid.

"I..I.." You pathetically babble. Fuck. Fuck! You must be dreaming, right? You pinch your arm, bite the inside of your cheek and end up slapping yourself in front of a dumbfounded Iv… No! It can't be him! It can? Noooo! Fuck, even after five slaps, he's still there.

"I'm Y/N," you finally say and are rewarded with a puzzled look.

"Strange name."

A man of few words, no doubt about it. Rolling your eyes, you sigh. Maybe you like it better when he doesn't say anything.

"And you?" Your question is somehow rhetorical as you already know who he is. But you need to hear it, clearly, from him.

"Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok and Aslaug Sigurdsdottir, king of Kattegat and leader of the great heathen army."

It sounds like he's reciting his service record.

Wow, wow, wow! The guy is slightly showing off, isn't he? You'd like to put him down and hesitate to remind him that unless you're mistaken, Bjorn overthrew him and he's not really king anymore. But it doesn't seem particularly wise, so you choose to keep quiet.

Not him.

"Are you my new slave? A gift from Ubbe, my silly brother, as a sign of his repentance and total allegiance?"

A slave??? You are in my fucking house, man!! And in my bed!!!

Six months later

You hurry up, eager to get home, looking forward to finding your man, Ivar the Boneless; the ruthless king. The bloodthirsty, fierce, cruel Viking. Your lover. Your Ivar.

Pushing back the door with your foot, you hastily lock it behind.

"Ivar?"

Not getting an answer, you put down your bag and take off your shoes before walking through the apartment. Putting your phone on the kitchen table, you inhale deeply, enjoying the delicious smell of a lamb stew that has certainly been simmering for hours.

Eventually, you find your great warrior asleep on the couch, the old wheelchair you unearthed in a second-hand shop right next to him. Smiling, you take your time, admiring his features. His facial structure, so perfect. He's astonishing, breathtaking. Painfully handsome.

He belongs perfectly in your living room and simultaneously seems completely out of place. You can't help but smile seeing the contrast of his hairstyle – "Never without my braids, woman!" – and his outfit, sweatpants and white T-shirt.

"Hi, my love!" Blinking, he almost purrs as you kiss his forehead.

Using his powerful arms to draw you close, he flashes you a broad grin as you carefully straddle him. With modern drugs working wonders, you taught him to rate his pain on a scale of one to ten and he's rarely over two. Yet, you haven't found a way to prevent him from breaking a bone at the drop of a hat.

"My queen!"

Your laughter fills the room. No matter how much you tell him you are not the queen of anything, he seems hell-bent on it so you let him, amused and surely flattered to be loved by a real king.

"Dinner is almost ready." You shiver as he kisses your temple, your cheek and eventually your neck. "And then…,” his voice is suddenly hoarse, "… you and I will make love."

Six months earlier

"Tell me again??"

The frightening Viking glares at you, threateningly, driving your heart rate crazy. Fortunately, you confirmed he came unarmed in your bed and then you took care, before inviting him to sit at the kitchen table, to lock up all the knives and sharp or pointed tools.

"I say…,” ashamed, you know you're blushing, "… that I have called the gods, yours as well as the Christian god."

"And for what purpose?" His piercing blue eyes are scanning you, his features harsh.

"I….” Your voice is shaky. "I have already told you."

Before you realize what's going on, his hand is on your throat, and he's squeezing. The little bastard!

"I said," he roars, "For. What. Purpose?"

Freaking out, it's hard for you to breathe and you can hardly speak, your face red, your eyes bulging and begging him for air.

His eyes demanding an answer, he barely releases his grip. You're sure he won't hesitate to strangle you if you don't say anything.

"I have… I begged the gods because I wanted… I wanted you in… my bed… Well, not you…" Suddenly your words are rushing out. "I wanted the other Ivar, the Ivar of the TV show, this TV show that you don't know but in which you play the lead role. And yes, I'm aware that you don't know what a TV show is, I'll explain later, but that's it, it's you I wanted, that's why I called the gods and I don't know why but apparently it seems they heard me."

Ivar's hand doesn't move but he doesn't squeeze anymore, allowing you to breathe freely. You can see a slight change in his eyes, and his face softens.

"You… You wanted me in your bed? …..Why?"

Suddenly, there's no longer a frightening warrior in front of you but the terrified little boy from the eleventh episode of season four. His huge, wide eyes screaming all his insecurities. You are dying to tell him that Margrethe is nothing more than a stupid girl who did everything wrong. After all, you'd only be telling the truth!

But because he's unpredictable and because you don't know him well, you choose to say something more simple. "Because you are extremely attractive.”

Pleased by your words, he puffs his chest, flashing you a cocky grin. "And what did you want to do in bed with me?"

His rapid mood swings are fascinating, even more impressive in real life than on TV. Weighing the pros and cons, you eventually decide to be honest. "I wanted to have sex with you.”

Six months later

"I'll take care of everything, just go chill."

Nodding gratefully, you watch Ivar, who's setting the table while stirring the stew and keeping an eye on the cooking pasta. Smiling, you can't help but assess the progress made.  

In six months, Ivar had become a perfect househusband.

Neither you nor he were able to explain by what miracle, sorry, by what magic, the word miracle made your proud pagan throw up, had him get there. But you didn't complain.

Neither did he – he who confessed that the last thing he remembered was fleeing Kattegat, alone, abandoned by all, hiding in the back of a stinking cattle cart.

Of course, you had to teach him everything and at first, it hadn't been easy. But he quickly got his bearings, at least in your apartment. Outside was harder. He was afraid of everything. Too much noise, too many colors, too many stimuli all the time.

That's why he spent most of his time inside. Running errands was terribly worrisome for him. Eating out too. At most, you forced him to go out sometimes late at night to get fresh air, and three weeks ago you managed to take him to the mountains. He loved it.

On a daily basis, you two didn't get out much, but you didn't mind. In your home, your cocoon, you were able to forget more and more that Ivar was more than a thousand years old. Forget that he was a character from history books as well as one of your favorite TV show. And the fucking fictive guy you've been fantasizing about for months!

He had adapted quickly enough to modern technologies, had discovered running water with delight and had been fascinated, almost mesmerized, by the Internet. It was so he could use it, he asked you to teach him how to read.

Learning in record time, you realized that the show had some truth: Ivar was certainly a brilliant and intelligent person.

Since he could read, he'd devoured every book he could find. He read all your books, even burning one that described the point of view of a Saxon monk during the Lindisfarne raid. The best thing about this interest was that he was always looking for new recipes on the web. "Helga would have been crazy with such a tool!", he told you after explaining that it was Floki's wife who had secretly taught him how to cook.

"Take your seat, my queen.”

Wheeling towards you, Ivar hands you a glass of wine. "For you." You thank him and then you both raise your glasses before clinking them. "Enjoy your meal!"

Bringing your fork to your mouth – Ivar, your stubborn Viking, still eats everything with a spoon – your eyes shoot wide as you let the flavors spread through your mouth. Once again, his meal is excellent, a true feast for the palate.

"Ivar!" Talking with a full mouth, you're slightly ashamed but know he won't hold it against you. "It's simply a pure wonder! Exquisite and perfect!"

Smiling proudly, your Viking king is sincerely happy. He doesn't need much. What he told to that bitch Freydis was the truth: all he wanted was to be loved. And in truth, he doesn't care about being king. For the first time in his life, he can be himself. With you. And that's enough for him.

"I'm glad you like it." Waving his spoon in front of you, he furrows his brows. "Are you working tomorrow?"

You can't hide the small smile curling the corner of your mouth up.  Ivar still has trouble with some concepts. "No, my love, tomorrow is Sunday. I never work on Sundays." Seeing that his face lights up, you know he has an idea in mind. "Why?"

"Nothing… I was just thinking… I could try to prepare… pancakes. And we could eat them in bed."

You are sure you've never mentioned pancakes and wonder when he heard about them. But whatever, you're in. "That's a great idea! I'm sure you'll do well."

Now, Ivar's biting his lower lip suggestively and you wonder what he’s up to.

Putting his spoon on the edge of his plate, he wheels towards you. "I'll prepare toast, eggs, and bacon too."

You can't help but feel aroused by his hoarse voice, even if it's ridiculous. Who would have thought that breakfast could be a turn on?

Wait. Wait. Fucking wait. Pancakes. Toast. Eggs. Bacon. Seriously???

"Why?!" You startle, slightly distressed. "I mean, what are you talking about? Why are you talking about that? Why do… Why do you want to eat that tomorrow? I mean, exactly that?" You know you're pathetic, but Ivar only smiles at you lovingly.

"Because I want to.” Stroking your breast, he leans forward and his mouth meet yours, giving you shivers. "And once I've eaten all this…,” backing up just enough to look you in the eye, his hand brushes your crotch, making you shutter, "… I'll enjoy my dessert."

Standing, you take a few steps back, panic setting in while you try to put the puzzle together. Your heartbeat becomes frantic when you eventually understand what it means. What he means.

"Ivar… You…?" Blushing, a lump forms in your throat, you can’t speak anymore.

Nodding at you, again and again, a broad smile on his face and his gaze almost naughty, he’s obviously having fun. Fucking pompous asshole!

"Yes, my queen. I found your Tumblr blog. And I read your fanfictions."

OH!! FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!

🛡⚔️🛡

@waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @lisinfleur​ @honestsycrets​ @gearhead66​

#vikings #vikings imagine #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar vikings #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #modern au

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Tea Time

He’d been told a vampire dwelled here. Edo eyed the place distrustfully. It didn’t look like any lair he’d seen before. Most of the time what he saw were places that were run-down, old, and as much death-traps as they were places for anything vaguely human might want to spend their time.

He’d never noticed that vampires had much of an interest in interior decorating. Yet from what he could see, this place had been clearly kept up.

This isn’t right. What he should do was go back to base and bring in a few more of the others. This wasn’t a mission that he should do alone. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’d found himself dealing with an entire nest of vampires instead of just the one he thought would be here.

He shook his head. He’d dealt with nests before. He checked to make sure he had enough holy water – Juudai told him it was holy water and while Juudai could be flaky as hell, he usually knew when something had been blessed – and that there were enough stakes to deal with a nest. A nest consisted of anywhere from three to thirty vampires. Beyond that and even he would go looking for a little assistance. Probably someone with a few more muscles, like Kenzan.

Certain of his tools, he carefully prowled forward, keeping an eye out for any signs that the area had been booby-trapped. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Frankly, that worried him more than if he’d seen danger. If he’d seen traps, at least that was what he would have expected. But no matter how he circled the mansion, all he saw was a single door and several windows. None of them were broken and all of them had glass in them.

They’re not even blackout curtains.

His skin crawled. Something wasn’t right about all of this. If this was where a vampire nested, then he had to clean it out. Leaving even one vampire could mean that there would be more. He’d seen what happened when vampires got out of hand.

A tiny part of him forever mourned his first partner. He would never forget having seen Ryou, surrounded by starving vampires, with only one stake in his hand, urging Edo to get out of there. He’d fled – he had nothing else he could do at the time. It was just the two of them.

He wanted to believe Ryou died there. The alternatives weren’t ones he wanted to think about.

He brought his attention back to where he stood now, in front of the door. He heaved in a breath, checked the heft of his stake, and moved closer to it. He expected the door to be locked – it wasn’t. Granted, that wasn’t much of a surprise. This wasn’t a neighborhood prone to burglars and if it had been, they would likely only strike at a vampire’s lair once, with limited odds of emerging on their feet.

On the other side of the door there stretched a corridor, with several doorways opening off from it. All of them were closed except one at the far end. Of course. The hallway was lit like any other hallway, with normal electric lights.

Do vampires pay the electric bill? He’d never encountered this before. Usually lairs were lit with candles or lanterns. He’d not heard anything about someone leaching off of the power grid here. But he hadn’t checked, either.

He started to wonder how much he’d failed to check on that he should have. Then with a firm shake of his head he moved forward. It wouldn’t matter once he found the vampire – or vampires – and took them down.

He headed for the one open door, making certain not to move too quickly or let a single footfall sound. When he reached the door, he ducked as low as he could and peered inside. Even vampires didn’t stare downwards that often.

Never before had he seen a room like this in a vampire’s lair. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought that since seeing this place but this was a properly decorated and organized sitting room. A fire crackled in the fireplace. There were two chairs pulled up near it, one turned as if inviting him to sit in it. In between the chairs there rested a table, and on that table someone had set a cup of tea.

Edo mentally swallowed at that. He never ate or drank for at least an hour before he went out on a hunt and even from here he could tell that it was his favorite flavor of tea. How had whoever set this up known?

“Because there isn’t much I don’t know about you, Edo Phoenix. Please, come in and sit down. Your tea is getting cold.”

Before the first word finished begin spoken, Edo leaped back, raising his stake and looking for whoever spoke. Then he spied movement and from the other chair there rose a tall figure.

Edo wasn’t one to be distracted by an attractive face or form. More than one such person had attempted to distract him with their looks. When they were vampires, he dusted them and went on about his life. When they were human, he ignored them and went on about his life. But now he stared at the one who stood there and breathed in quickly.

Whoever this was, they stood taller than he did. Their hair was a rich blue black and fell down in a shimmering wave to his knees. The eyes were a glimmering shade of amethyst that pierced into Edo’s heart and made him wonder about everything he’d ever known in his life. But perhaps worst of all – the stranger smiled. And he had fangs.

“You’re a vampire,” Edo said, straining to keep his attention on what was important. He needed to plunge his stake into this person and yet he couldn’t move.

“I am. I am also Saiou Takuma. It is a pleasure to meet you in the flesh at last.” Saiou gestured to the chair. “Please join me. I made this tea for you.”

Edo took two steps forward before he stopped himself. “What? Why would you do that?” This made no sense at all and every instinct he owned told him to do the deed and get out of there. But he didn’t.

“Because you’re thirsty. Because we need to talk and it’s better if we do that while you’re not thirsty.” Again he gestured to the chair. Edo did his best not to look into those eyes; a vampire had to meet your eyes in order to control your mind. But he found himself going over to the chair regardless.

“What do you mean we need to talk?” He asked as he settled down in there. The chair was very comfortable. Saiou returned to his own chair and folded his hands over one another.

“You are a vampire hunter. You seek to avenge the death of your father.” He stared into the flames. Edo wondered what he was thinking. “I can help you with that.”

Now Edo suspected something. He had all along; this just made it worse. “Why would you? Do you know who did it?”

“Yes, I do. But you won’t believe me and you won't like it. So I will not tell you – yet. Not until you know that I can be trusted and that I would not name this person unless they were the one that you seek.”

Edo eyed his new acquaintance suspiciously. “What are you talking about?” He wasn’t at all sure of if he could trust someone who called him by name when he’d never mentioned his name. Granted, he’d been killing vampires for three years now. A few of them had escaped – they probably told stories about him.

“There are vampires who can be trusted and those who can't. I can guide you to those who consider humans nothing but cattle and ensure that you do not harm those who would prefer to feed only off of those who are willing.” A bit of a smile flickered across his lips. “I am of the latter. In seven hundred years I have fed only on those who willingly offer themselves to me. There are not as many of those as there could be.”

Edo frowned. “As many people to offer or as many vampires who do that?”

“Both. But we can discuss that in detail later. You came to kill vampires. I can take you to a nest of vampires that stalk and kill humans – or worse, sometimes turn them to increase their ranks.”

Edo shook his head. “Why don’t you kill them if you know where they are?” He knew what vampires were capable of. Super strength, super speed, a variety of powers, all that would make killing others child’s play. He’d never seen vampire kill vampire, though.

“Because a vampire cannot kill another vampire. Only humans can do that. Or sometimes others – but you are human. And you want to kill them.” Saiou said simply. Edo stared at him. Had he gone to sleep without even being aware of it? All of this seemed a little surreal to him.

Then he slowly picked up the cup, sniffed at it, and took a sip. It was exactly what he’d thought it would be. Whatever else Saiou was, he could make an amazing cup of tea.

“Tell me more,” he said at last. If he tried to kill Saiou now, he’d lose out on important information. He could do it another time – when he’d killed all the vampires Saiou knew about.

And maybe after he’d had a few more cups of tea.

The End

Notes: Anyone actually believe that Ryou is perma-dead? As opposed to undead?

#higuchimon writes #ygo gx #gxmonth2020 #edo phoenix #saiou takuma #au: vampires

[dudeandduchess]

Maybe a ModernAu Rengoku falling for the new barista at his favorite coffee shop? Sorry if that's a strange one

Oooh, it’s not strange at all, bby. In fact, I liked it so much. Ahaha. I hope you like it tho. I do apologize if there are any errors with my spiel on her process of ristretto making; as it’s been such a long time since my barista classes. So yeah...

***

Modern AU: Kyōjurō x Barista F!Reader (SFW Scenario):

(Y/n) didn’t know what she had done to deserve such a treat, but she knew that it must have been grand for her to receive something so glorious so early in the morning. To add to her luck, she hadn’t even been working for long at her parents’ shop, and she’d already been handed such a gem of a man to admire.

She immediately dropped the rag she had been using to wipe the countertop with, then quickly rinsed her hands and wiped them on her side towel. After that, she raced over to the counter— with a bright smile on her face.

More because of the cute guy standing on the other side of the counter, rather than because of company rules.

“Hi! Good morning. What can I get for you?” She asked chirpily, as she eyed the young man’s handsome features; all under the guise of pleasantry.

He looked so handsome with his neatly styled hair; a total bishōnen. And those red tips did more for his looks, rather than retract from them.

She wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Badly.

However, it was his eyes that struck her the most. They were a bright gold, and a stark red; which gave him such an effortlessly piercing gaze. All of him screamed ‘effortlessly handsome’, and that piqued (Y/n)’s interest greatly.

”Hi,” Kyōjurō answered brightly, even though his heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest and offer itself to the pretty lady in front of him. “I’ll have a large long black, please.”

“Alright then. Would you like anything else with that? A cookie, maybe?” (Y/n) tried to upsell, but not for the purpose of making profit, but more for the chance to have a longer conversation with the handsome customer.

After all, it wasn’t everyday that such a fine man walked into her parents’ small coffee shop in Asakusa.

“Ah, I’d love to... but maybe next time. I’ve already had breakfast, you see,” Kyōjurō answered with a sheepish smile, as he lifted a hand up to his face and scratched idly at his cheek.

He hadn’t had breakfast yet, but he knew that he couldn’t possibly stomach to eat anything; not when his stomach was filled with so many butterflies, all because of the cute barista.

The answer dampened (Y/n)’s mood the tiniest bit, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Her only silver lining was that he had said ‘next time’, which entailed that he was going to return.

And that made her more excited than anything.

“Okay then. Next time,” The young woman answered in a much chirpier tone than she intended; and that had Kyōjurō grinning widely. Which sent a flurry of heat to crawl up (Y/n)’s neck and settle on her cheeks. “T-that’ll be 400 yen.”

She held her hand out to receive the money, and Kyōjurō returned in kind by doling out the cash; only, he made it a point to let the tips of his fingers linger against her soft palm.

And that had her gaping like a fish out of water, before she haphazardly thanked him and gave him his receipt. He didn’t even have the chance to look at her flustered face, because she immediately turned to the espresso machine behind her and set out to make his order.

With shaky hands, (Y/n) put some coffee grounds into the portafilter in her left hand, before tamping it down with more force than necessary. So, to remedy her mistake, she re-did the whole process; only to curse when she kept tamping down too hard on the coffee grounds.

And, to make matters worse, she heard the handsome man chuckle behind her. She could even feel his gaze on her, which unsettled her even more.

(Y/n) had always prided herself in being borderline shameless, but to have had such a man tease her like that fried more braincells than she could count. Hell, she was afraid that his touch had left her with just two braincells that kept rubbing together, in order to form somewhat coherent actions.

Despite her own— extremely loud— inner turmoil, she set out to making him the best damn long black she had ever made for anyone. She even eyed the tails of the ristretto she had pulled; making sure that they were the perfect color and width, as they dripped into the paper cup that she had already put some hot water in.

In her earlier haste though, she had just realized that she hadn’t gotten his name. And, while she carefully put the lid on the cup, she thought of a way to ask him for it— in the least weird way possible. But she drew up zero answers, so she was forced to sulkily trudge towards the handsome stranger.

All with an involuntary smile on her face, because seeing him smile at her brought the reaction out of her.

“I think this one’s for you, err...” She trailed off awkwardly, which Kyōjurō chuckled at.

He then took the cup she offered to him— making sure to let his touch linger upon hers once more. “Kyōjurō. Rengoku Kyōjurō. And you?”

“(L/n) (Y/n). It’s really nice to meet you.” The young woman practically breathed out through a small grin, all while her cheeks flushed even more at Kyōjurō’s attention on her.

“The pleasure was all mine, (Y/n). Thanks for the coffee.”

And with that, he turned away from her; if only to save himself from acting like a total creep and already ask her out on a date when they’d just met.

But he kept coming back to that same small coffee shop. Sometimes it had lots of people, which bummed him out, as he couldn’t find the time to chat with her about the most simple of things; and other times— the ones which he loved the most— where there was only him and a few early morning stragglers there.

Those moments were the ones he treasured the most, as he would always stand by the counter to drink his usual long black coffee; all while talking to the recent highlight of his days.

However, no matter how much he loved those slow days, he was thankful for the crowd that came in with him that day.

He had already placed his order with one of the part-timers, under a different name of course. As giving his identity away so early on would ruin his plans.

(Y/n) was extremely busy behind the bar— what with all the orders of coffee coming at her. It didn’t help that she still hadn’t seen the head of blond hair that she had been looking for all morning.

Kyōjurō’s absence dampened her mood, which frazzled her mind so much, to the point where she just wanted to sit down in a corner and take a long breather.

When she picked up the next order though, she snorted to herself when she saw the writing that her parents’ part-time employee scribbled along the side of it.

Some people were so shameless, but she couldn’t exactly refuse to say the words out loud, as the owner wouldn’t know that their cup of coffee was already done and ready to be picked up.

So, she set out to make the long black as quickly as possible; just wanting it to be out of the way, so she could get to the building line of orders along the board.

When the lid was fastened to the lip of the cup, she set it down on the counter and cried out, “A long black coffee for ‘Would you like to go on a date?’”

A few seconds passed, but still no one answered. So she cried out once more, “‘Would you like to go on a date?’”

She was about to repeat the call once more, when she saw the familiar man she had been looking for all morning. He was walking towards her with that same warm smile on his handsome face.

“Yes, I’d like to go on a date,” He answered with a wink, which had (Y/n)’s entire face turning red. “6 pm, tonight?”

#kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer rengoku #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kny kyojuro #rengoku kyojurou x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #anon #ask #jen writes

[fairmoephelia]

I Met Sarah in the Bathroom

beauyasha week day three!! modern au, enjoy a fic of yasha and beau meeting in the bathroom of a party.

slight warning: there is no in depth talk about it but obann is yasha’s ex (before she came out as a lesbian) and he’s mentioned to have been pretty shitty. so if that bothers you please be careful reading

fic below the cut!

Yasha could feel Obann’s grip on her arm as she stormed through the party, “Calm down, you’re making a scene.” He told her as she tore her arm away from his grasp, shirking his hand as he tried to grab her again.

“Leave me alone,” she muttered, pushing past the few people who didn’t instinctively step out of her way. She breathed a small sigh of relief as she found what she was looking for through the dim lights of the house, a bathroom. She didn’t even know who was hosting the party, someone Molly knew, let alone the layout of the house. She pulled at the handle and it opened, thank god. She rushed inside and slammed the door behind her, hearing Obann’s fist hit with a hollow sound, “Yasha, love, get out here!” He said, still plenty smug but his voice was beginning to sound annoyed. Good.

She banged her own hand against the inside of the bathroom door. “Get fucking lost!” She shouted.

“You can’t stay in there all night, Yasha!” He called back, she could just imagine him leaning dramatically against the other side of the door and grinning to his friends.

She practically growled, “Watch me, asshole.” She leaned her head against the door and took a few deep breaths, she had gotten more upset than she’d meant to with him. She knew he was right, she couldn’t hide out in the bathroom for the rest of the night. She shut her eyes tightly, listening until she heard Obann’s retreat over the music blaring from the living room.

“Uh, hi?” Said a voice from behind her, Yasha spun around to face the owner of the awkward greeting. It was a woman, looking a little pale in the face as she kneeled next to the toilet. She looked like her skin was normally a nice olive tan and was still rather pretty, even with her hair falling haphazardly out of her bun. She wore skinny jeans and a grey checkered button-up, and her ears and face were adorned with several black and gold piercings.

“Sorry,” Yasha said immediately, not knowing what to do other than awkwardly rub at the back of her neck. “I didn’t realize— the door was unlocked,” she explained.

The woman waved Yasha off with a casual hand. “That’s my fault. I kinda had to run in here, too much to drink. That guy sounds like a dick,” she said bluntly.

Yasha sighed, lowering herself against the door until she was sitting on the cool tile of the bathroom floor too. The very thought of Obann, still nearby with his asshole friends, weighed down on her. It was a good thing he hadn’t made it into the bathroom, she wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to stop herself from smashing his head against the sink. “He is,”

“Sucks,” the woman muttered, “I’m Beau, by the way.”

“Yasha,”

“So, was that dude just some random creep or do you know him?” Beau asked, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have to answer, I was just wondering,”

“He’s my ex,” Yasha winced, “We dated for a few months, before I came out as a lesbian,”

“Oh, hey! Me too!”

Yasha smiled a little at that, it was nice to have that kinship with someone other than Molly for the first time in awhile. Her and Beau sat in silence for a moment, it teetered between awkward and comfortable but Yasha decided it was the best she could hope for from a stranger she was randomly trapped in a bathroom with.

“Did you come to this party with any friends?” Asked Beau.

“One, but I don’t know where he is and,” she held her phone out, clicking the power button to show the red low battery screen.

Beau shook her head sympathetically. “Well, I know actually the guy hosting the party, his name’s Fjord. He’d probably be okay with ending it early if you want?”

Yasha shook her head, the last thing she wanted was to be more of a bother. Getting some poor girl stuck in the bathroom with her was one thing, shutting down an entire party because she couldn’t handle seeing her ex was another. “No, no, I don’t want to bother him.”

“Okay, then how about we go grab food?” Said Beau.

“How? I can’t really leave,” she said, as much as it made her feel like a coward, though Molly and the therapist she had gone to for exactly two weeks both told her it shouldn’t. She really couldn’t handle seeing Obann, which had been fine when she believed she would never have to again, but apparently her bad luck had to follow her everywhere. Even to some party she hadn’t wanted to go to in the first place. 

“Window,” said Beau, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re kidding?” Yasha couldn’t help but stare, Beau had seemed simple enough at first glance but Yasha was getting the feeling she had when she first met Molly, like she had never met anyone like him before.

“Nope, it’s not even that hard to open or get through,”

“You’ve done it before?”

“Like I said, I know the host,”

“And you’re feeling well enough to do this?” Yasha asked incredulously, considering Beau had admitted to being sick before she arrived. 

“I feel great.” She said, pushing herself to her feet and making her way over to a window, blocked by curtains, that Yasha hadn’t noticed when she entered, “And now that I’ve thrown up a bunch, I need to get some food in me. You coming or not?”

Yasha hesitated before joining Beau on her feet, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do and food sounded good. She hadn’t gotten the chance to eat anything before running into Obann.

Beau grinned like she’d just won the lottery, it made Yasha’s stomach flutter slightly. She unlocked the window with a click, throwing it open and ducking out with the grace of someone who had practice escaping quickly through windows. Yasha followed, less practiced and having to fold herself far more than Beau, and pulled the window shut behind her.

Beau held out her phone as they crossed the lawn of the two story house and made their way down to the sidewalk, “You can use my phone to tell your friend where you’re going,” she said.

“Thanks,” Yasha took the already opened phone, looking at the background of Beau with a darker skinned man and woman. The man was tall and wearing a green flannel similar to the blue one around Yasha’s waist, he had amber eyes with a distinctive scar crossing one of them. The woman was chubby and shorter than Beau with freckles, holding up a peace sign and winking, she had bright blue hair and equally colorful clothing. A pink top and candy-like jewelry dangling from her ears and neck. Yasha swiped to messages, putting in Molly’s number and typing a quick text about going to get food with a girl she met at the party. She purposely left out the part of seeing Obann, knowing she would explain later if he asked.

She handed Beau back her phone and they continued down the street, even in the dark Yasha knew the area. Her and Molly had walked there from their apartment, which was the only reason she was comfortable leaving him.

“You know,” said Beau, “I bet your shitty ex came with Fjord’s shitty ex. They broke up on bad terms, but he invited her to clear the air or something. Personally, I think he just wanted to make sure she brought some of his stuff back.”

“Maybe,” Yasha agreed, “I wasn’t originally going to come but Molly, my friend, asked me to. I think he knows Fjord,”

“Oh yeah, Fjord’s mentioned him a few times but I’ve never met him. It’s too bad, maybe if I had I would’ve met you sooner,” she said smoothly.

Yasha huffed a laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is Fjord the guy in your phone background?” She asked, purposely ignoring the compliment though it would be a lie to say she hated it.

Beau didn’t seem discouraged, “Yeah, the girl is Jester, our other friend.”

“Was she at the party?”

Beau nodded, “Along with Caleb and Veth, some of our other friends. Caleb was probably just as reluctant to be there as you,”

Yasha felt a slight recognition at the name, “I think Molly has mentioned a Caleb before,” she said.

“Oh!” Beau said suddenly, “Is Molly the guy who got him that really stupid shirt for Hanakuah last year?”

“The one that said ‘Cat Daddy’ on it?”

“Yes!” Beau laughed, “His face when he opened it was the highlight of my night,”

Yasha chuckled at the memory of holiday shopping with Molly. They had mostly just been buying for each other, trying not to let the other one see, but he had been so excited to find the shirt, saying he had just the person in mind to give it to.

Beau and Yasha entered the fast food restaurant they had come across during their walk, ordering burgers and fries and taking a seat at one of the cheap plastic tables with their food. Beau ate like a starving woman and Yasha enjoyed her food as well. As the night came to an end, or rather morning began to rise, Beau passed her phone across the table back to Yasha.

“Can I have your number?” She asked, “You’re pretty cool and I’d like to take you somewhere nicer than the nearest fast food place.”

Yasha stared at the contacts screen, hesitating like she had at the window, for only a moment, before typing in her number. She placed a flower emoji next to her name and returned the phone.

Beau smiled at the screen and Yasha was really beginning to like when she smiled, “Thanks.” She said, “You good to get home?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yep. I hope to see you soon, Yasha.”

Yasha smiled and left the restaurant.

#beauyashaweek2020 #beauyasha #critical role #critrole #beauregard lionett #cr beau #yasha nydoorin #cr yasha #fic #fanfiction #critical role fic #also yes caleb and beau are jewish #my best friend introduced me to the headcanon and i will never get over it #i love it a lot

[eilonwiiy]

Bookends ; A Witchlands AU

Chapter 9

An innocent trip to the library takes an unexpected turn.

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

When Iseult woke up the next morning, she thought maybe she had dreamed the previous night.  But no.  Aeduan had texted her.  Twice.  First, with an all too unsatisfying Ok while she was still at work.  Then, again a whole hour later as she was getting ready for bed telling her that he’d be coming to the library tomorrow.  Which was now today.  The gap between texts - the “lost hour” as Iseult was now referring to it - was doing an exemplary job of keeping her busy.  She thought about it all through her shower.  While brushing her teeth.  There was a brief pause while she picked out an outfit (sweater, suede skirt, ballet flats), but then it was right back to obsessing over those missing 60 minutes.  

What had happened to cause Aeduan to go from monosyllabic man to someone with a firm grasp of the English language?  Had it been a full moon?

The ruckus of the usual morning hustle and bustle could be heard from Jitters as Iseult descended the stairs, coat already on and a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.  When she brushed through the divider curtain, the sight that met her brought her to a full stop.

“Wow.  Someone woke up in project mode,” she said, taking in Safi - awake and fully dressed on her morning off - and the stacks of books and magazines spread across multiple tables pushed together.

“Yes,” Safi agreed, looking proud.  “I thought I’d finally try turning that weird corner no one likes to sit in into that book nook we’ve always talked about.”  

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Iseult stared at Safi, expression flat.  

“Safi?”

“Hm?” she replied, flipping breezily through a page in her magazine.

“What are you doing?”

Safi didn’t look up.  “I told you.  I’m making the book nook.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time.  But see, it’s 8:30 in the morning.”

“And?”

“And,” Iseult continued, slowly approaching her mini fortress of books, “there’s a perfectly useful bed upstairs wondering where you are.”

“Well, tell it it might get lucky and see me tonight.”

“Safi,” Iseult said bluntly.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?  And if you say ‘book nook’ one more time I’ll kill you.”

Safi said nothing.

“Spill,” Iseult ordered.

Safi sighed and made a face.  “Is it so hard to believe that I actually wanted to do a good thing and get moving on this project that you’ve been talking my ear off about for months?”

“It is when it’s 8:30 on your morning off.”  Iseult eyed the nearly full mug of coffee on the table.  “Is that your first cup of coffee?”

“Maybe.”  Safi’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “Why?”

“Nothing.  Just a concerned citizen, that’s all.”  Iseult pulled up a chair and lowered herself onto the seat, clapping her hands on her knees.  “Look, as tempting as the prospect of playing 20 Questions with you this early in the morning without caffeine in my system is, can we maybe skip to the end of this conversation where you tell me the truth about why you’re really up so I’m not late for work?”

Safi pursed her lips like she didn’t want to talk.  Then, she grabbed a massive tome off the top of one of the piles and held it up in the air.  

“I tripped over this.”

“Ok…” Iseult said slowly, eyeing the book.  “Are you okay?”

“Physically, yes.  Spiritually?  That remains to be seen.”

Iseult sighed.  “Safi, did you miss the part where I said I don’t want to be late for work?”

Safi let the book drop from her hand with an obnoxious thud that shook the table.    

“As you know, I worked until close at The Cleaved Man last night.  When I got home at 1 o’clock, per usual, I tripped and fell over this,” she said, giving the offending book a scathing look.  

The smallest of frowns formed on Iseult’s otherwise smooth face.  “How is that even possible?  That’s my freshmen geology textbook.  I’m not exactly reading up on pyrite in my spare time.”

“Oh, well, I knocked into the bookshelf while I was fumbling through the dark trying to find the light switch.”

“So really you tripped over the bookshelf.”

Safi gawped at Iseult.  “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I would if I knew what the heck this has to do with you waking up and deciding today’s the day you’re going to be a carpenter!”

“That apartment is too small!” Safi burst, gesticulating wildly to the ceiling above.

“Safi,” shushed Iseult, glancing around at the early bird customers who were now looking curiously at them.

“No!  That place is too small and I’m so tired of barely having enough room to breathe let alone walk through the door without having to map out some sort of detour route to avoid collision!”  She shook her head.  “The books had to go!”

Iseult grabbed for Safi’s hand before she could point a rude gesture at the ceiling and covered it with her own.  “Look I know we got our hopes up for the apartment,” Iseult said, careful to leave out Chiseled Cheater’s name or supervillain moniker, “but you need to let this go.”

“I don’t want to,” pouted Safi, pronouncing each word defiantly.

“I know.  But you’re driving yourself crazy and me by extension.”  She paused.  “Our shoebox does have its perks.”

“Like?”  The word dripped with incredulity.

“Like,” Iseult ventured, “we don’t have to walk far to get to work.  We can even open the bakery in our pajamas.”

Safi’s face remained unchanging.  Iseult went on.

“We don’t have to deal with some seedy landlord.”

Nothing.

“Late snacks are a flight of stairs away.”

Still nothing.

“And there’s always an endless supply of free coffee on hand.”

“Except for that time we forgot to place the order and we went a whole three days having to tell customers we didn’t have coffee,” Safi pointed out.

Iseult shuddered from the memory.  “I thought Mathew and Habim were going to kick us out.”

“Maybe they’d have done us a favor if they had,” Safi muttered.

Iseult made a face at her and, for a moment, they held each other’s gaze.  Then, finally, she folded.

“I’m sorry,” Safi moaned, flopping back in her chair and looking at the stacks of books dejectedly.  “It just kills me that he’s living in our dream apartment while we’re stuck smelling like coffee for the rest of our lives.”

“It won’t be for the rest of our lives.  And besides,” Iseult added as an afterthought, “think of how much money we save living here.  I doubt I would have been able to afford that place now anyway.”

From the way Safi immediately sobered, Iseult knew she had driven the point home.  After all, it wasn’t Safi who couldn’t afford to live wherever she wanted.  She could leave their shoebox apartment anytime she wanted.  But she stayed for Iseult.  

Iseult fiddled with her hands and dropped her gaze, not wanting to look at the somber expression on Safi’s face.  She almost looked ashamed.  

“I’m sorry,” Safi apologized again.  She waved to the piles of books.  “Obviously, I lost my mind.”

“Does this mean you’re not going to build the book nook?”

Safi’s expression stiffened and Iseult saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.  

“No, I’m going to do it,” she eventually said, sounding resigned to the prospect, but determined.  “You’ve been bugging me about it long enough.”

“You said you liked the idea!”

“Yeah, but that was before I ordered those damned bookshelves,” argued Safi, nodding to the back office.  “Honestly, those assembly instructions are in a different language.  How can they expect the average person to put them together without a contractor?”

“Or an interpreter.”

“Exactly.  It’s all a bunch of gibberish made to con you into hiring a professional to assemble it for you.  It’s a money making scam.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Safi stewing.  Iseult side-eyed Safi.  She didn’t want to break the happy truce they had just struck, but...  

“You know who would be great at putting together those shelves?” she asked.  “The C-word.”

Safi gave a most unlady-like snort of disbelief.  “Cam can barely hold an entire tray of cookies without toppling over let alone a plank of wood.”

“I’m not talking about Cam and you know it.”

Safi shot her a piercing look.  “I am not calling Caden.”  She paused.  “I’ll call Leopold.”

“For what?” Iseult laughed.  “Moral support?”

“Hey, your boyfriend’s more handy than you think.”

Iseult’s stomach flipped.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Safi rolled her eyes in exasperation.  “You’re right.  He’s not, but he could be!  If you would stop avoiding him.”

Iseult’s stomach vaulted again, but this time for an entirely different reason.  “Did he say that?” she asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“That you’re avoiding him?  No, but I can tell by the way he asks about you.”  Safi studied Iseult for a moment.  “Do you like him?”

“I…” Iseult didn't know what to say.  She didn’t know what she felt.  While she had spent a good deal of time telling herself that Leopold’s flirtatious advances towards her were a figment of her imagination - I mean, look at the guy.  He basically waltzed right out of a Disney movie - she knew in her gut that they were real.  She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about what it would be like to date him.  To kiss him.  Would she burst into a puff of smoke when his lips touched hers and reappear a beautiful princess?  It all seemed so ridiculous to her.  They were like night and day.  But even so, there was no denying that they shared a bond.  She trusted him.  With him, she felt safe.

With that thought in mind, she ended lamely, “I don’t know.”

Safi nodded, eyes soft and understanding.  “That’s fair… Maybe seeing him tonight will help,” she said encouragingly.

Right.  Tonight.  Vaness’ little shindig.  Iseult hadn’t exactly been crossing off the days on her calendar in anticipation.  

Safi’s face went serious again.  She hesitated.  “Hey, so Alma called while you were in the shower.”

Shit.  “She did?” Iseult asked, trying to keep her voice light.  It wasn’t like this was the third time Alma had called this week and she hadn’t gotten back to her or anything.

“Yeah.  I picked up…” said Safi, sounding apologetic.  “I figured it could be about something important.”

“I’m assuming if you’re just telling me now that it wasn’t?”

Safi shook her head.  “No.  Just asked if you could call her back.”

“Ok… Thanks.  I will.”  Iseult swallowed the lie and let her eyes wander to the mess around them.  “I take it this means you’re not reading the book for the book club?”  She picked up a copy of Sisters of Sight from the top of one of the nearby stacks.  

“No,” Safi was quick to say, snatching the book away from Iseult and holding it to her chest possessively.  “I added that to the pile by mistake.”

“Of course,” Iseult said without much confidence.  Sierra, one of the baristas working the morning shift, came over and offered a steaming to-go cup of coffee and a paper bag that, judging by the heavenly smell, was her favorite cinnamon crunch bagel.

“Such service” she commended, taking them from Sierra and thanking her.

“This place ain’t half-bad,” Safi chimed in, watching with approval.

“Not half-bad at all,” Iseult agreed, then took a sip of her coffee.  She made a face as she swallowed.  “Well, the coffee definitely falls into the half-bad category.  Real Marstoki coffee my you-know-what,” she grumbled under her breath.

“You can say ‘ass’ in front of me,” Safi goaded, smirking.  “I won’t tell anyone.”

Iseult shook her head and stood up from her chair.  She was officially running late now.  “Well, thank you for an eventful morning.  Your neuroses never fail to entertain.  I’m only working a half-shift, so I’ll be back this afternoon.  Try to be nice to Cam before I get here,” she added with what she hoped was a convincingly stern look.

“Remind me again why we hired him?” Safi asked, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

“Because we’re all about helping the little guy,” answered Iseult as she wrapped her scarf around her neck.

“I didn’t realize we meant that literally.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You broke our no high schoolers policy.  I hate high schoolers.”

“Cam’s different.”

“He has no work experience.”

“Everyone has to get their start somewhere.  We didn’t exactly have much work experience when Mathew and Habim hired us.  Besides,” Iseult added, looking around and gesturing to the cafe, “this isn’t exactly a high-stakes operation.  I think Cam can handle pouring coffee.  Just be patient.  Not everyone learns at the same pace.”  She tugged on her beret cap and picked up her coffee and bagel.  “Well, I can’t wait to see you and the book nook when I get back.”

Safi’s face tightened and her smile froze in place.  “Me too,” she said as one of the book piles toppled over.  “Me too…”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Aeduan was not having a good morning.  

The news that they would be making a trip to the library that day was not received with warm reception from the four-year-old.  At first, Owl just frowned, not understanding why they were going if they weren’t going to see Evrane.  The concept of the library existing even when they weren’t there was a shock to Owl - an unpleasant one judging by the horrified look on her face - and Aeduan did his best to explain that the library was open to more than just the two of them, and that they were welcome to visit any time they wished, even when they weren’t meeting with Evrane.  He thought this would clear up the matter and put to rest Owl’s apparently very serious concerns about the library.  He was so incredibly wrong.

Owl had been possessed by the devil - Aeduan was sure of it.  

The nightmare started with her bath.  Aeduan could have skipped his shower if he had known how wet Owl would get him with all her thrashing, suddenly violently adverse to water.  By the end of it, there was more water on him than in the tub.  He’d had to change - but only after he managed to wrangle Owl into her own clothes (another Olympic feat).  At breakfast, she threw her Cheerios on the floor and the moment Aeduan finished picking up every last O, she spilled her orange juice.  By the time they left the house, Aeduan was so preoccupied with Owl squirming in his arms, he didn’t notice Blueberry sauntering across the porch and he tripped over the damned thing, sending himself - and Owl - toppling into a snow pile.  She’d started sobbing then.  Not for herself or for Aeduan, whose hip was throbbing in pain.  No, no, no.  She was upset that he may have hurt the cat.  It took 20 minutes for him to assure her that Blueberry was ok, another 20 minutes searching for the little cretin when it became clear she needed physical proof of the fact (he was hiding under the porch wedged behind the recycling bin), and by the time her sobs had turned into sniffles, he was so discombobulated that he didn’t even bother to go back inside and change out of his now soaking wet pants.  Again.  He was too worried he’d never get Owl out of the house again if he did.  He wasn’t taking any chances.  He skipped the car altogether, even though it had just snowed and the sidewalks probably weren’t all cleared yet.  Barring performing an exorcism, getting Owl to sit still long enough for him to fasten her into her carseat seemed inconceivable and - with his ears still ringing with her last screaming meltdown - he wasn’t looking for an encore.

Owl was deathly quiet by the time they reached the library.  Maybe she had run out of tears.  Aeduan certainly hoped so.  He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Owl fell apart while they were inside the building.  Possibly breakdown and cry himself.  Evrane would love that.

Shit.  Evrane.  In all the chaos, Aeduan hadn’t even thought about what he’d say if they happened to run into her.  He hastily ran through some quick excuses in his head while he crossed the library’s main hall, eyes darting around the open space for a splash of white hair and listening for the tell-tale sound of clattering of silver… which was precisely the moment he ran into Iseult.  Or rather, Iseult’s book cart.

The cart went toppling over, taking Iseult along with it, and crashed to the floor with a bone-rattling BOOM.  The sound echoed unforgivingly through the voluminous hall.  Aeduan stared at Iseult sprawled out on the floor covered in books, stunned, then snapped into action.  

“Are you alright?” he asked, hastily depositing Owl on the ground and kneeling down beside Iseult.  She looked shocked, eyes frozen wide, like she didn’t know how she had ended up on the floor.  He hastily began pulling books off her.

“You should be more careful,” Aeduan admonished gruffly.  He gathered and stacked the fly-away books into a pile off to the side while Iseult just sat there, silent.  Annoyed, he opened his mouth again when he picked up a tattered volume off her leg.  

His movement stuttered and his eyes locked on a jagged rip in her tights.  The pale skin shone like a tear in the night sky.  He swallowed thickly and he tore his eyes away.  

“Someone could have gotten hurt.”  He got up, leaving Iseult on the floor, and walked over the fallen cart.  He pulled it upright, the wood groaning with the motion.  He braced his hands on either end and gave it a firm jostle.  It seemed sturdy enough, despite its obvious wear.  Satisfied that it was safe, he started transferring the books back on its shelves.  

A strange sort of hiccup from behind him caused Aeduan’s head to snap up.  He’d had enough tears that morning.  This whole day could fuck off into the void if Iseult was going to start crying too.  He jerked around, not sure what he would do if he saw a single tear on her face, then stared.  

Iseult was laughing.  He’d never heard her laugh.  Or truly seen her smile.  It transformed her whole face that was always so emotionless.  Even as confusion shot through him, he couldn’t help but appreciate the sight.

He offered a hand to her.

“Are you alright?”  The question came out more reserved this time.  Less like an accusation.

Iseult nodded, her soft laughter fading to nothing, and accepted his help.  Her hand was cold against his.  She let go when she was back on her feet and offered him a small smile in appreciation.

Aeduan pointed to the tear at her knee, if only to distract himself from the feeling she’d left in his empty hand.  “That looks like it hurts.”

Iseult ducked her head and gave her leg a quick once-over.  Aeduan found himself looking too, but when his gaze began to roam to other places, he quickly looked away.  

“N-no, it’s fine,” Iseult stammered.  “I’m just out a pair of tights.”  

Aeduan frowned, not sure what to say to that.  Iseult bit the inside of her cheek and shrugged.  “I-I have a hundred pairs, so it’s f-fine.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Aeduan asked for a third time.  The tremble in her voice was making him uneasy.

“Mhmm,” was all she responded with, nodding her head.  She fidgeted with the cuffs of her sweater.  “I’m sorry I almost ran you two over.”

Two?  Oh, right!  Owl.

Aeduan looked down at Owl next to him.  The look she was giving them was downright murderous, if that was possible.  Owl had proven on more than one occasion that she was capable of extraordinary things - even if she was only four.

“You didn’t,” Aeduan replied, looking away from her and back at Iseult.  “I should have been paying attention.  I’m sorry.”  He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they were out of his mouth before he could give them any thought.  They seemed to be the right thing to say, though, because Iseult’s face relaxed and he thought he caught a faint smile.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, looking up at him shyly.

Aeduan swallowed, heart stuck in his throat.  “You…. are?”

“Mmm,” Iseult confirmed.  She wet her lips, the pink tip of her tongue darting out and capturing Aeduan’s attention fully and wholly.  “I was just about to drop these off and get my things to go.  I have your book.  One of the other librarians would have been able to get it for you, but…”  She trailed off, ducking her head and looking down at her feet.

But, what?  Aeduan thought frantically.  He’d never felt more desperate for someone to finish a sentence.

Instead, she abruptly announced: “I’ll go get it now,” then pivoted on her heel and glided away from him.  He watched her go, eyes carefully trained on the manner of her gait.  If she was hurting, she hid it well.  Every stride of her legs was poised and measured, much like her personality.  However, when she was about ten feet away from him she paused and turned around.  Aeduan noticed how she hesitated when she saw him watching her, but, subtly, she squared her shoulders, and proceeded to make the short trek back to where him and Owl stood by the book cart.  

Oh.  The book cart.

Aeduan made no comment when Iseult reached them nor did she.  She simply rotated the cart on its wheels and ushered it away.  The rickety contraception left a trail of unwelcomed noise, earning her several annoyed looks from nearby patrons.  As if it was Iseult’s fault that that ancient piece of craftsmanship made such an infernal racket.

Aeduan glared at them.

It didn’t take Iseult long to return.  When she appeared, she was buttoned up in a coat and wore an old-timey looking beret on her head.  On anyone else it probably would have looked childish, but on her it was cute.  Aeduan shrugged the observation off by focusing on the book in her hand.  

“I hope you don’t mind that I looked up your account to check it out,” she said as she handed Elmer and the Dragon to him.  A boy in a red and white striped shirt and blue cap playing a flute to a circle of yellow birds looked up at him from the cover.  “We’re not supposed to do that without the patron present, but... well... I figured you’d probably want to get in and get out.”

Aeduan looked up with the faintest of frowns.  “Why do you say that?”

Iseult blinked, and though nothing else moved out of place on her face, Aeduan could tell she was surprised.  “Well,” she said slowly, “whenever you come in you always seem like… like you don’t want to be here.”

Aeduan tensed.  That wasn’t true.  Maybe it had been before, but now… now he wasn’t so sure.

He assessed the facts.  Today was Friday.  He’d defied all logic and come in on a day he wasn’t obligated to.  He’d triggered the second coming of Judas just to be here by facing off with an irritable 4-year-old and a demonic cat.  He’d even risked Evrane’s unsolicited judgement.  All that he had done to pick up Owl’s book.  To make Owl happy.  The wet jeans frozen to his ass were proof of that.  

“I wanted to be here today,” he said, tucking the book under his arm.  The truth of that statement almost distracted him from the pink blush that rose on the apples of Iseult’s cheeks.  Almost.  

She cast her gaze down to her hands and busied herself with pulling on her gloves.  “I have to go to my next job.”  Her voice was muffled somewhat by the thick scarf wrapped so high around her neck it obscured some of her chin.

“The coffee shop?”

“The coffee shop.”  She let her hand fall to her sides - gloves secured - and with nothing left to keep her occupied, she looked at him.  

“Well...” she began.  The suggestion of her departure was obvious in her tone, but Aeduan interrupted her.  

“We were planning on heading there after.  After coming here.”

“You were going to go to Jitters?”  Iseult’s eyebrow actually bounced and Aeduan relished the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of her.  It was becoming something of a game between them - though, he wasn’t sure she was aware she was a player.

“Yeah.  It’s what we do on Fridays.”

Iseult peered from Aeduan to Owl.  Unconvinced maybe.  “You go to Jitters every Friday?”

“Well,” Aeduan backtracked, feeling his insides freeze up a bit, “we have been for the last month.  It’s… a new tradition.”

He hoped that didn’t sound weird.  Iseult was still staring at him with that blank stare of hers, her eyebrows having recovered from their brief surprise.  It was all so maddening.  He never knew what she was going to say.  It made everything he said all the more nerve wracking… and exciting.  

He realized something then, something that made the corner of his mouth curl up.  Just like that, he wasn’t afraid of what to say next.

“Shall we?”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Iseult was getting coffee with Aeduan.

Scratch that.  Iseult was getting coffee for Aeduan.  Or at least, she would be once they got to Jitters.  

They were walking.  Outside, Aeduan had apologized and muttered something about not being able to use the car in the morning.  He did that a lot.  Mutter.  But Iseult didn’t mind.  Especially when there was an apology buried in there - which, there had been that day.  Twice.  That wasn’t so bad either.  (Not that she was keeping track, of course.)

The sidewalks were icy, and several times, Iseult nearly slipped.  Each time she noticed the way Aeduan’s hand shot out to grab her out of the corner of her eye - but only just.  He never quite made it to touching her.  His hand would hover in the air - she could practically feel it - waiting for her to recover, and after, it would fall back to his side, wrist rolling.

The three of them walked side by side, Aeduan in between Iseult and Owl.  There was no way of knowing for sure, but Iseult suspected that he had put himself in the middle to act as some sort of buffer.  The contempt radiating off of Owl back at the library hadn’t gone unnoticed by Iseult.  She could have imagined it, but she thought she even saw a smidgen of smugness on the child’s face after she had fallen.  While Iseult admired Aeduan for fighting for custody of the child, there was no ignoring it: Owl was strange.

Aeduan held on tight to Owl’s hand, setting the pace for the three of them.  Unlike Iseult, she hadn’t slipped once.  So strange.

Nothing was said for the first ten minutes of their trek.  Eventually, Iseult worked up the nerve and broke the ice in a way that didn’t involve falling on her ass.

“You said you started coming to Jitters every Friday?” she asked, giving Aeduan a side-long look.  He nodded, keeping his eyes ahead of him.  

“Before we pick up my sisters from school.”

Sisters.  Interesting.  Iseult instantly latched onto the topic.  “Do they live around here?”

Aeduan shook his head.  “Arithuania.”  

“That’s not too far,” Iseult commented conversationally.  “How old are they?”

“Lisbet’s 12 and Cora’s 8… They're my half-sisters.”

“Oh.”  Iseult mulled over that.  It was a seemingly small detail, but it invited a whole host of questions about his family.  Lisbet and Cora were younger than him, so that meant he had a stepmother… which meant something had happened to his real mother.  The desire to not to lose momentum of the conversation almost pushed Iseult to ask… but then she thought about Gretchya.  If the roles were reversed and Aeduan had asked about her mom, she wouldn’t have wanted to answer.  Her mom was about the furthest thing away from what she would want to talk about, now or ever.

So instead she said, “I don’t have any siblings.  But I have Safi.”

Aeduan’s head turned to her.  “Who’s Safi?”

“My best friend.”  Iseult’s face broke out into a smile like it always did when she thought about Safi.  “She’s the closest thing I have to a sister.”

“That… must be nice.”

Iseult nodded in agreement.  “We live together.”

A pause.  “Do you get along?”

“Most of the time.  But even when we disagree, we’re always in sync.  We’re always on each other’s side.  It’s... hard to explain.”

“Hn.”  That was all Aeduan had to say to that and then silence fell between.  Iseult really felt like it was his turn to pick up the conversation.  She’d done a decent enough job carrying it so far; a two minute run was pretty good, she thought.  A record, maybe, for Aeduan.  But now it was his turn.  Or so she thought.  Because the silence stretched.  And stretched and stretched.  She even heard Owl sigh at one point.  She wouldn’t be surprised if she fell asleep by the time they made it to Jitters.  

“Do you live around here?” she finally asked, then groaned inwardly.  What a stupid question.  Of course, he lived around here.  They walked to the library all the time, dumby.  

“Yes.”

The single word struck a match on Iseult’s nerves.  She might as well have said nothing at all if that all she was going to get back in return.  She wasn’t great at making conversation on a good day, but Aeduan - Aeduan was like a monolith.  There was no breaking through to him.  He just stood there like a constipated brick, not saying a word, with those ridiculously blue eyes and ridiculously long lashes, and just glared at her making her feel like a complete idiot for even trying to talk to him, like she was the one with the problem!  

Well, she silently seethed, it was no secret to the Moon Mother that she was ripe with issues, but she was not the problem here.  She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye, and the white winter sunlight caught on the lobe of Aeduan’s ear.  

“Why do you wear that thing?” she blurted.  

Aeduan’s head whipped to her, his eyes slightly widened, like he’d only just realized she was there.  Before, Iseult might have been scared as to how he would react to such a brazen question.  But her fears had nothing on the deep satisfaction of seeing the crimson blush that fanned out high on his cheeks and crawled to the tips of his ears.  She half expected him to trip over himself for how long he gaped at her.      

“Why do you care?” he snarled - he actually snarled!  

Iseult stood her ground.  In that, she kept walking, head held high.

“I didn’t say I cared,” she said smoothly.  “I’m just curious.  You don’t see a lot of guys walking around wearing gemstones in their ears.  It says alot about a person.”  

Aeduan’s jaw locked so tightly it looked like it might never unhinge ever again - which, Iseult supposed, wouldn’t make much of a difference seeing as he never said anything worthwhile anyway.

But then he did something that surprised her.  He came to a full stop.  He swiveled to face her directly, and when Iseult looked into his eyes, some of the fear she’d pushed aside rushed back.

“This gemstone,” Aeduan said venomously, pointing a sharp finger to his ear, “belonged to my mother.”  He glared at Iseult and she swore she heard her heart stop entirely.  Strangers milled about around them on the sidewalk, but in that moment nothing else existed outside of her and Aeduan.  All she saw were his eyes.  Cold as ice, yet burning with hatred... and grief.  Even though Iseult was petrified of what he might say next, she realized that she felt like she was seeing him for the first time.

“I wear this to remember her.”  Aeduan’s chest heaved.  Icy air puffed from his lips with every labored breath, and Iseult suddenly noticed how close he was to her.  Just another step and their noses would be touching.  And their lips…

“If you’d ever lost a mother, you’d want to feel close to her too.”

This time Iseult’s heart did stop.  With a disgusted look, Aeduan swung away from her and left her standing alone on the sidewalk, staring at the empty space where he used to be.

“I don’t think I would.”  

Aeduan froze and looked over his shoulder.  Iseult stood rooted to the spot.  

“I-I d-don’t know if that’s t-true.”  She shook her head, not sure where the words were coming from.  Not sure how her heart could be beating so fast and not feel like it was working at the same time.  Like it was malfunctioning and pumping out thoughts she would otherwise never say aloud.  Not to anyone.  Maybe not even Safi.  

“My m-mother is sick and I d-don’t call her,” she stammered.  “I never see her.  I make excuses all the time about why I can’t visit her or why I don’t return her calls and even though I know I’m being a horrible daughter, I just can’t stop.  I can’t bring myself to be better for her.  I don’t know who your mother was or what she was like, but I do know mine.  I don’t know what I’d do without her, I’ve never not had a mother, but… I don’t know if I’d want to feel close to her b-because I don’t feel c-close to her now.  I… I don’t know if I’d miss her.”

The weight of everything she just admitted lifted off Iseult and she was able to breathe again, heartbeat retreating under the cool blanket of stasis she kept shrouded around her at all times.  Pumping blood, not feelings, doing its job.  She took a gulp of cold air.  Her limbs felt foreign to her, the tension she always carried ebbing away, and a fierce exhaustion hit her with the force of a speeding train.  She didn’t think she could bring herself to look at Aeduan after everything she just confessed… but she did anyway.

His expression was painstakingly emotionless.  Not even a scrap of red tinged his cheeks.  During her speech she hadn’t really registered him there.  Even Owl at his side was looking at Iseult with something different.  There was no repulsion, not judgement.  Just… curiosity.

Iseult took another deep breath of air.  It didn’t matter what Aeduan thought of her now.  She needed to go to work.  She needed to move forward.  Her eyelids fluttered close briefly.

Stasis, Iseult.  Stasis.  Stasis in your fingers and in your toes.

When she opened her eyes, she was moving.  She was brushing past his shoulder.  And then-

Something stopped her.

Iseult looked down at the hand firmly gripped on the strap of her book bag, then slowly, tipped her chin up to look at Aeduan.  The white winter sun behind him was a halo around his head.

“Can I buy you a muffin?”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Somehow Iseult ended up on the green couch at Jitters.  There had been scant elsewhere for the three of them to comfortably sit, so while Iseult had made a beeline for the couch before anyone else could snatch it out from under them, Aeduan headed to the counter to fetch them some coffee.  Caffeine was probably the last thing Iseult needed right now - not after what had transpired on their walk - but when Aeduan had asked her how she took her coffee, she couldn’t find it in herself to refuse him.

There was an air of relaxed cheerfulness about the shop, the place bustling with people getting a jumpstart on their weekend, college students done with classes for the week.  When Iseult spotted Cam alone scrambling behind the counter and Safi nowhere in sight, her first instinct was to rush over and give him a hand, but the second Aeduan stepped into her line of sight and instructed her to find a seat, she’d forgotten all about him.

It felt strange sitting and being waited on in her own coffee shop.  It was like being served in her living room.  She sat spine rod straight on the edge of the couch with her hands absently twisting her gloves in her lap.  She hadn’t even bothered to take off her coat or scarf.  They felt like protective armor now, like needing a blanket to fall asleep regardless of whether it’s cold or not.  Right now, it was admittedly too hot, what with the fireplace crackling by the couch.  She could feel herself growing uncomfortably warm.  She resolved to loosen her scarf, but only a little bit.  

Aeduan wasn’t alone when he reappeared carrying two mismatched mugs of coffee.  Cam followed behind him, his face pinched in concentration, moving with caution as he balanced three small plates of pastries perilously along his spindly arms.  Iseult tried not to make a show of watching him as he approached, but she held her breath, praying for him not to fumble.  It would be exactly the kind of thing he would do, the poor kid.  The second hand embarrassment alone would cause Iseult to combust.  

The second the plates made contact with the low coffee table, she was able to breathe freely.

“Cam,” Iseult said, peering over the back of the couch and looking around the shop, “where’s Safi?”

Cam put down the last of the plates and wiped off his brow, relief evident on his face.  “She ran out to the corner store.  The delivery guys must be running late and we ran out of creamer.”

“That’s the second time this month,” Iseult muttered more to herself than to Cam.  She sighed.  “I’ll have Safi give them an earful when they get here.”

“Aye aye, sir.”  Cam gave her a dutiful salute.  He made to turn away, then stopped as if only just realizing that he had just served pastries to her.  “You are working today, right?  Safi seemed to think you were.”

“In another half hour,” said Iseult, checking the clock on the wall for good measure.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be on by the time you need to leave.  You won’t be late for your Big Brother meeting.”

Cam’s cheeks went a little pink and he rubbed the back of his neck.  “Ok, thanks,” he said sheepishly.  “I’m really sorry he called last week.  I told him it wasn’t your fault, I swear.”

A memory of Safi hunched over the desk in their cramped office in the storeroom, red-faced, holding the phone to her ear flashed across her eyes.  Safi’d endured a very heated discussion with some guy that claimed to be Cam’s Big Brother - didn’t even bother to properly introduce himself, the loser - and accused them of letting Cam off his shift late so that he was late for their meeting.  Judging by the 30 minutes hate-rant that followed after she’d hung up the phone, it had not been a productive conversation.

“I believe you, Cam.  It really wasn't a big deal,” she lied.  It had taken forty bucks worth of take-out and a bottle of wine to convince Safi not to fire him on the spot.  

“Ok,” Cam said again, shoulders relaxing.  He surveyed the spread on their coffee table and glanced at Aeduan and Owl seated next to her.  “I just wasn’t sure what this was.”

“Oh ah…” Iseult glanced at Aeduan who was helping Owl peel the paper wrapping off her muffin, not paying the least bit of attention to their conversation.  “We’re just having some lunch.”

“Alright,” Cam said, eyeing Aeduan skeptically, if not fearfully.  But he didn’t pry further.  “Well, I’ll see you in a bit then.  Enjoy your, uh, lunch.”

“Thanks,” Iseult said, watching him leave.  Stealing herself, she shifted in her seat to face lunch.  

Aeduan hadn’t touched his food.  He was too busy fussing over Owl.  She sat between them, contentedly munching on a muffin that was almost as big as her head.  Much like before when they had been walking together, she felt like Owl was acting as some sort of barrier now, like Aeduan had put her there to keep some space between them.  Iseult wondered if she should read into it.  Maybe he was trying to tell her that this wasn’t anything special.  Just two people having coffee.  Nothing put the lid on romance faster than a four-year-old who, as far as Iseult could tell, hated her.  And then there was the issue of the 6 months worth of guilt she’d word vomited all over the sidewalk just 10 minutes ago.

“Is everything alright?” Aeduan asked as he put down Owl’s juice box on the coffee table and picked at his own muffin.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Iseult said, almost breathless.  “Just a problem with our delivery guys.  I’ll have Safi handle it when she gets back.”

Aeduan popped a piece of muffin in his mouth and chewed methodically as he studied her.  He swallowed.  “No, I meant with you.  Your face.  It’s all red and splotchy.”

“Oh,” Iseult breathed, hands flying to her cheeks.  The skin burned under her fingers.  “I… I’m just a little warm, I guess.  The fire…” Aeduan continued to stare and she looked down helplessly at her coat.  “I suppose I can take this off,” she mumbled, reaching for the buttons and beginning to undo them.  She tried to steady her fingers as she continued down the line.  She shrugged the peacoat off and her entire body seemed to sigh with relief at the feeling of being able to breath again.  She chanced another glance at Aeduan as she unwound her scarf, noticing that he had already taken his jacket.  How she hadn’t noticed until was a mystery.  The white t-shirt stretched across his chest made it devastatingly clear that he didn’t need any protective armor for their not-date.  

Iseult had always been so preoccupied with what was going on inside Aeduan’s head that she never really wondered what went on with the rest of him.  His signature leather jacket masked how lean he truly was, but it also hid everything else.  Everything else being, well, everything.  And boy, there was so much to see.

Not being much of a fashion guru, Iseult had never considered what was so special about the plain white tee.  That singular item of clothing had transcended decades of trends despite being, as its title suggested, plain.  Now, however, its reason for persevering was evident.  Embellishment would only distract from the main attraction.  The attraction being, the person who wore it.

Aeduan was, for lack of a better word, stacked.

The shirt left nothing to the imagination.  Iseult could see the contours of his muscles, starting with the hard plane of his chest, traveling all the way down to map the outline of his abs.  His arms were on full display in all their glory, pale and strong looking and - oh my gosh - was that a tattoo peeking out from underneath the hem of his sleeve??  There was nothing unsightly about him.  He was built in a way that told her that he must be well-acquainted with the benefits of hitting the genetic lottery.  This wasn't the work of protein powder.  Somehow he had fallen into Moon Mother’s good graces.  He looked healthy and strong and 100% out of Iseult’s league… It wasn’t until now that she’d ever even considered joining a league.  

She didn’t own a bat.  

She didn’t own a ball.  

She’d never made it to first base before, nevermind hit a homerun.  

She was so woefully unequipped in every way for the living Michaelangelo statue sitting across from her that it suddenly hit her that no wonder he didn’t talk much.  Who needed words when you had a body like that to do all the talking?

Except Aeduan was talking for once.  Now, in fact.

“Are you going to leave that on?” Iseult barely heard him ask.

“What?  Oh-” She followed his line of sight to the beret on top of her head.  She hastily peeled it off and awkwardly tried to smooth out her hair.  She was uncomfortably aware of Aeduan’s eyes on her.  She wished she hadn’t worn the silly thing.  It had been a gift from Leopold a couple Christmases back.  He had insisted that it was chic and retro and, no, it wouldn’t make her look like Mary from The Secret Garden, but now she would have liked nothing more than to toss it into the fire and watch it shrivel up into a pile of ash.

“Thanks,” she forced herself to say as she reached for the mug on the table.  “For the coffee and- oh.”  She examined the muffin beside it, then tilted her head questioningly at Aeduan.  “Did you know cinnamon was my favorite?”

Aeduan, who was mid-sip, paused.  Iseult caught the corner of his mouth curled up behind his mug.  Then he tipped his coffee back and it was gone.  “Lucky guess.”

Iseult allowed herself to smile, a little one, before ducking her down.  She began to break apart her muffin… but there was only so much eating and drinking she could do before there would need to be some exchange of words.  She decided to take a stab at it.  

“You said you come here every Friday?”

“Pretty much,” Aeduan said, reaching for a napkin and dabbing a smear of what looked like blueberry off Owl’s cheek.  She looked like she wanted to resist but didn’t.

“You do know there’s a Starbucks right around the corner, right?”

“So?”

“Well, why come here when you could go there?”

Aeduan thought about it, then shrugged.  “I like the coffee.”

Iseult snorted into her mug, sending a couple errant droplets of coffee flying.  Both Aeduan and Owl stared at her.  Iseult surreptitiously wiped her mouth, but when she noticed that they were still staring, Aeduan clearly confused by her reaction, she sent the same nonplussed look right back.

“Are you serious?” Iseult asked deadpanned.

“I believe I am,” Aeduan replied, a little defensive, which made Iseult want to laugh again.

“It’s not actually real Marstoki coffee,” she said, gesturing to his mug.  “You know that, right?”

Aeduan peered into the contents of his mug.  “It’s not?”

“Not even a little.”  Iseult gave him a bemused look, enjoying the curious way he was examining his mug, almost indignant.  Eventually he accepted the truth and put it down.

“You said hazelnut makes it better.  I guess you were right.”

Iseult’s heart skipped a beat.  He ordered his coffee that way she had brewed it for him the first time she saw him in the shop?  She didn’t know why that made her feel all gooey inside but it did.

A soft chime sounded and Aeduan reached into his back pocket.  The movement stretched his already too tight shirt even tighter across his chest and Iseult launched into an aggressive excavation of her muffin as to avoid ogling him.  When she eventually got a grip and looked back up, Aeduan was frowning at his phone.  

“Something wrong?” Iseult asked, hoping that he didn’t have to leave.

He shook his head.  “It’s nothing.”  He started to put it away, then stopped.  “Well,” - he shifted again and slid it back out - “do you know what this means?”

He leaned across Owl and showed the screen to Iseult.

“My sister likes to send me these… things,” he explained, watching Iseult carefully as she looked at the picture on his phone.  “I never know what the heck she’s talking about.”

“Oh!” Iseult exclaimed with a laugh.  “It’s a meme.  See, that’s Kermit the Frog.  Kermit is-”

“I know who Kermit the Frog is,” Aeduan ground out like it pained him to say the goofy green muppet’s name out loud.  “But what does he have to do with her trying to decide whether or not she wants to sign up for the school’s annual spelling bee?”

“Well,” Iseult began and boldly took the phone from his hand and pointed to the Kermit hooded in a black cloak.  “That’s Kermit’s evil persona.  He’s like the devil on his shoulder whispering in his ear and egging him on.  Your sister-”

“Lisbet,” provided Aeduan.

“-Lisbet said she doesn’t want to sign up because she has too many other extracurriculars going on right now and doesn’t want to overload herself.  But she also wants the satisfaction of wiping the floor with her peers’ asses because she knows she’ll win.”

Aeduan frowned at her.

“My words, not hers,” she clarified.  She handed the phone back to him.  “She was using that picture of Kermit talking to his sinister self to emphasize her evil instincts.”

“I wouldn't exactly classify competing in a spelling bee as evil,” Aeduan said, studying the meme again.

Iseult plunked a bit of muffin in her mouth and chewed.  “Sounds like she's a pretty outgoing kid.”

“She is,” Aeduan said, clicking his phone off and tucking it away.  “But she’s quiet about it… Humble in a way the most overachieving 12-year-olds aren’t.  To her it’s not overachieving, it’s just her being her.”

Iseult watched the faint smile that spread across his lips, warming his usually cold face.  “Cora,” he continued without prompting, “is a lot like her, but sillier.  She’s younger, of course, but she’s always been a little more mellow than Lisbet.  More carefree.  I don’t think school means the same to her as it does to Lisbet, but she’s a good girl.”

“They both sound like they’re good girls,” Iseult said.  

“They are,” Aeduan nodded.  “They are.”

A comfortable silence passed between them in which they both indulged in a few bites of their muffins.

“So what are your plans for this weekend?” Iseult asked.  

Aeduan stiffened, looking slightly uncomfortable.  “Uh, sorry, but I’m busy.  I have the girls all weekend.”

She blinked.  “Right, I know... what are your plans with them?”

“You weren’t...?”  Aeduan’s face went red and he absently tugged at his pieced lobe.  “Oh.  Well.  Uh…” He tried to mask his embarrassment with a cough.  “Nothing special.  Lisbet likes to get her homework out of the way on Fridays and Cora likes to do what Lisbet does, so we usually spend the rest of the afternoon doing school work.  Saturdays are a mixed bag.  Lisbet’s does a lot of extracurriculars, so depending on what she has going on, Saturday is our day to just hang out and relax.”

Iseult had a hard time picturing Aeduan “hanging out” and wondered what that would entail.  Before she could ask, a noise sprouted between them and they both looked down.  Owl sipped on her straw like she was sucking the life out of her juice box.  Aeduan gingerly pulled it out of her mouth and placed the exsanguinated carton on the coffee table.  

“What about you?” Aeduan asked, like nothing had happened.  “Do you have any fun plans?”  It sounded like he struggled to say the word ‘fun’.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call my plans fun.  Or call them plans at all,” Iseult confessed, tucking her hair behind her ear.  “I mostly work.  And read.”

“And hang out with Safi.”

Iseult smiled, nodding.  “And hang out with Safi.”

It took her a full 5 seconds to realize that Aeduan was smiling back at her.  Not just with his mouth but with the little dimple that winked out from his cheek.  It was the most brilliant thing she’d ever seen.  

“Actually,” she spoke, looking down at her hands, “we’re hanging out tonight.  Our friend Vaness is having a little get-together with some people.”

“Vaness?”

Iseult’s ears perked up, catching the sharp familiarity in the way he spoke her name.  “Yeah.  Do you know her?”

Aeduan opened his mouth to respond, his smile and the dimple noticeably missing, but at that moment, the bells over the entrance door jingled and in walked Safi.  

“Iseult,” she breathed, nose and cheeks rosy from the cold.  A paper bag was clutched to her chest with what Iseult guessed was creamer.

At the sound of her name, Aeduan’s head instinctively turned to look over the back of the couch.  Safi froze as the door closed behind her.

“S-Safi,” Iseult exclaimed, taken aback by the stutter over her best friend’s name.  That was a first.  But Safi didn’t seem to notice.  Her feet seemed glued to the floor with her stare pinned on Aeduan.

“This is Aeduan and - oh!” - Owl was turning in her seat and pulling herself up with the back of the couch to see what the fuss was about - “this is Owl.”

Owl gave Safi a shrewd look that lasted all of 5 seconds before sinking back down onto the cushion and returning to her muffin.  Clearly, she was unimpressed by Iseult’s choice in best friend.

“Aeduan, this is Safi,” Iseult told him, nearly choking on Safi’s name when she saw the frosty look he was giving Safi.

Neither of them said anything.

“We were just eating lunch,” Iseult explained, grappling for words.  She looked from Safi to Aeduan waiting for someone to explain why on earth she’d been transported to the arctic tundra.  They seemed to be locked in some sort of Vulcan mind meld; she had a feeling her limited knowledge of Star Trek trivia wasn’t going to do much to break it.

Thankfully, Aeduan was the one to do the deed.  He sent a downward jerk of his head to Safi in acknowledgment that might as well have been a punch to the face for all the friendliness it had, then turned to Iseult.

“We need to get going,” he said, his voice carrying none of the warmth or depth it had had in their conversation moments ago.

“S-sure,” Iseult faltered.  She was unable to ignore the sinking disappointment buoying in the pit of her stomach.  “I w-wouldn’t want to keep Lisbet and Cora waiting.”

Wordlessly, he pulled on his jacket and helped Owl into hers, then bundled her up in her hat, scarf, and gloves.  He started to stack the mugs and plates.

“You don’t have to-” Iseult tried to stop him, but he continued anyway.

“I got it,” was all he gruffed out.  When everything was piled up, he stepped around the coffee table and transported it all to the counter by the waste bin.  When he came back he held out his hand to Owl, who slid off the couch and placed her fuzzy mittened hand in his, then glanced at Iseult.  She couldn’t read his expression, but she didn’t have much time because the next second he was turning his back on her and leaving.

Safi, who hadn’t budged, didn’t say a word as he sidestepped around her and pushed through the door.  The second it rattled shut, her head whipped to Iseult.  She whizzed over to the couch like time had stopped and was suddenly speeding to catch up.  She threw herself down where Aeduan had been sitting and carelessly let the paper bag drop to the floor, barely giving it any mind.  Disbelief was written all over her face.  Iseult was glad that her expression was finally readable, but was still very much bewildered as to the reason behind it.

“What was that all about?  Are you crazy?” Safi whisper-hissed.

Iseult blinked rapidfire in response.  “What are you talking about?”

“Him!” Safi exclaimed, shooting a look over her shoulder.  “That guy!  Why on Earth would you hang out with him?!”

Iseult was so confused.  She was barely able to form words.  “He’s just a patron at the library.  We’re friends.”

Safi gave her a flabbergasted look.  “He’s not just a patron.  Iseult,” - she leaned forward and brought her head close to hers - “do you seriously not recognize who he is or do you not remember anything from that night?”  She pinned her with a stare, eyebrows high, as though waiting for a response, but Iseult shook her head smally, her mouth clamped shut.  Nothing Safi was saying was making any sense and it was making her more and more nervous.  

Safi sucked in a breath through her nose and her hand covered Iseult’s in her lap.  She squeezed it bracingly.  All it did was send another shot of fear through Iseult.  She stared into Safi’s blue eyes.

“Iseult,” she said in a low voice, “that’s the chief of police’s son... the cop that crashed Vaness’ end-of-the-year party.”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

The moment Aeduan stepped outside, he felt like he could breathe again.  It had become too hot in there.  And then when Safi walked in…

Of course - of course - Iseult’s best friend had to be the impossible barista.  But she wasn’t just that.  Because just before she’d interrupted them, something that had been out of place had slid home and he’d realized something: he knew Iseult.

A memory of a hot summer night that started with a noise complaint rushed back to him.  Being in the Domestic Violence Unit, it wasn’t something his squad typically covered, but staff was stretched thin that night, what with the non-stop partying shaking up the college city, and Aeduan didn’t have much choice to turn his back on the call.  It had been one of the last runs he’d made before turning in his badge.

Iseult probably didn’t even remember it.  But he did.

Owl tugged at Aeduan’s hand and felt her curl into his leg.  He peered down at her questioningly.

She lifted a mittened hand out in front of her.  “Dog,” she said.

Aeduan looked to where she pointed and, sure enough, there was a dog leashed to a lamppost, most likely waiting for his owner to return from getting a coffee.  At the sight of the two of them, he lifted his shaggy head from his front paws, attention piqued.

Annoyance tugged at Aeduan’s gut.  He hated when dog owners just left their pets tied up unattended.  It was just notch below leaving them in the car.

Owl let go of his hand and clutched herself to him, hiding behind his leg.  Wide brown eyes peeked out from behind him at the dog, who looked cold and miserable.

“Tail not moving,” she said, her words muffled by the fabric of his jeans.  Aeduan nodded and gave the dog a pitying look.

“That’s right,” he told her.  “He’s probably not happy being left out in the snow by his master.”

Owl tucked herself even closer to him and a small whimper bubbled out of her.  Aeduan moved to sidestep away from her to show her the dog wouldn’t hurt her, but she only whimpered again, more loudly.

“It’s ok,” Aeduan shushed her, gently extricating her from his leg and lifting her up in the air like she weighed nothing.  “I got you.”  

Her arms wrapped around his neck the moment she connected with his chest and the warmth of her enveloped him, anchoring him, pushing thoughts of his old life his mind.  He held her close, humming soft comforting words to her and rocking her gently.  

From the snow-covered sidewalk, the shivering dog’s watery, mournful eyes watched him and Aeduan stared back.  He thought about Iseult and her sick mother.  He thought about Owl’s tear-stained face from that morning and her arms around him now.  And then he thought about what it would take to lose a child and what it would feel like to not be missed.

#the witchlands #bookends #iseult det midenzi #aeduan #baeseult #owl #safiya fon hasstrel #iseult x aeduan #cam leeri #truthwitch #my fics #mine

[ghostking-wenning]

Radishes, Chapter 4

I wrote this all in one go last night, and I think it came together pretty good! So y’all get a lil two-fer today. This chapter is mostly dialogue, which is probably my specialty! Lemme know whatcha think. 

1900 words, rated T for drinking I guess, NingXian, modern au, first date, momentary angst but it’s resolved really quick!

Enjoy~!

“Thank you! We’re The Whatevers! We have stickers and T-shirts at the merch counter. Have a great night!” Wuxian waved as he and his bandmates gathered their things and left the stage. Their set was short, but it was easily the most exciting thing Qionglin had seen in … well, ever, probably. The host in the strappy dress came back, and thanked The Whatevers, chatting to fill time while the next band set up.

“Hey!” Wuxian suddenly appeared at his side. He’d shed his leather jacket, and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin.

“Hey!” Qionglin parroted back, hopping to his feet. “That was amazing! You really are a rockstar!” Wuxian had put on heeled boots for the show, and now towered a few inches over him. Qionglin had to tip his head further back to meet his eyes.

Wuxian laughed breezily. “Thank you so much! I’m glad you liked it. It means a lot.”

“Of course! I um, I really like your s-singing. And the lyrics were really poetic and moving, but still cool and exciting! I-- I haven’t heard a lot of music like that before.” 

“Oh, gosh, thanks!” Wuxian gushed. “I didn’t know anyone actually listened to the lyrics, heh…”

“You asked me to,” Qionglin explained. “But I think I would’ve noticed them anyway, they’re…” He searched for the right word. “Beautiful.” 

Wuxian didn’t say anything for a while, just stared down at him intensely. Qionglin shuffled his feet and broke eye contact. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Wuxian eventually asked.

“Uh, out? Where?” Qionglin forced himself to look back at him, but his expression was still so piercing. Qionglin bit his lower lip, and his stomach flipped over when Wuxian’s gaze flicked downward. 

His face finally softened, a slight smile curling his lips. “I know a place. Let’s go.”

Qionglin followed him back through the greenroom, and out of the club. They walked a few blocks, to a quiet bar called the Lilypad. It was decorated in blues and greens and purples, live plants overflowing from handmade ceramic pots. Soft, traditional Chinese music lilted through the air.

“Wow,” Qionglin remarked. “This place is cute! Kind of a 180 from the Devil’s Den, huh?”

“Mhm!” Wuxian agreed. “It’s an old favorite. My dad took my brother and me here for our first drinks when we turned 18.”

They took their seats across from each other at a small round table. Brightly colored fish swam in an aquarium next to them. Wuxian perused the drink menu. They had a beautiful view of the river, glinting faintly in the twilight.

“What’s good here?” Qionglin wondered aloud. “This probably isn’t surprising, but I don’t drink very often. Pretty much just on holidays at family dinners or whatever.”

“Hmm… do you trust me?” Wuxian asked, peering over the menu, one eyebrow raised.

Qionglin looked at him, confused. “Yes…?” 

“Good!” Wuxian said decisively, tapping the side of his nose. “Wait right here.” And he whisked away.

“Okay…” Qionglin waited obediently. A couple of minutes later, Wuxian reappeared with two glasses of pale golden wine.

“This is one of the best things you’ll ever taste,” he promised, setting one glass in front of Qionglin. 

Qionglin raised his eyebrows. “Not what I was expecting…” he began, lifting the glass and sniffing curiously. The wine smelled of lotus blossoms and ripe plums. He took a tentative sip. The golden liquor warmed his lips, but didn’t burn as it slid down his throat. Its sweet aroma reminded him of summertime. “It’s delicious!”

“Right?” Wuxian effused. “It’s called Hefeng. It’s a specialty from my hometown. Also, I lied. It’s the second best thing you’ll ever taste. The first one is harder to find up here.” He drank happily from his glass, smiling fondly.

“Oh? What’s the first one?” 

“It’s called Emperor’s Smile. They only make it in Suzhou, though, and the vineyard that makes it doesn’t distribute it. Something about how it doesn’t taste right outside of Suzhou, I dunno. Sounds like bullshit to me, but it’s damn good wine.” He sighed wistfully. “If I get a bottle, I’ll save you a glass.” 

Qionglin felt heat rising to his face, and tried to hide it behind his wine glass. He took a long sip. 

“Pace yourself,” Wuxian warned. “It’s stronger than it tastes.” 

Indeed it was. Less than a quarter-hour later, Qionglin’s glass was empty and he was feeling quite buzzed. Oops, he thought faintly. Oh well!

“So tell me about yourself,” Wuxian prompted. He swirled the wine in his glass; he was on his second cup, but seemed thus far unaffected.

“Oof,” Qionglin muttered. “What’s there to tell? I’m … Just a farmer, I guess. I like plants and animals. I like to cook. That’s kind of it.” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly the most interesting guy around. I’m probably pretty boring, huh?”

“Don’t say that,” Wuxian chided. “If you were boring, we wouldn’t be here. Tell me about farming! How’d you get into that?”

Qionglin blinked. No one had ever asked. “Well, it’s a family thing. The farm’s been in our family for over a hundred years. My cousins and I are starting to take over the bulk of the work from our aunties and granny.” 

“What about your folks? What do they do?” 

“Oh… Um… They were doctors.”

“On the farm?”

“N-no, I mean… before they died.” Awkwardly, Qionglin glanced out the window. It was dark out now, but he could see city lights twinkling across the water.

“What? No way!” Wuxian blurted out.

“Uh… It’s not exactly unheard of…” Qionglin picked at his paper napkin.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Wuxian corrected. “I um. Lost my parents too. When I was really little.”

“Oh.” Qionglin looked back at him and offered an apologetic smile. “What a thing to have in common, huh? But I thought you mentioned your dad earlier?”

“Yeah, I was adopted. I was in the foster system for a few years, then a friend of my father’s found me and took me in. He’s been very kind to me. His kids are like my real siblings.” He cleared his throat. “So, what about you? Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah, a big sister!” Qionglin said, already forgetting the maudlin turn their conversation had taken. “Her name is Qing and she’s the coolest. She’s in medical school here in the city. What are your siblings like?” 

Wuxian smiled warmly. “I have a big sister too. She’s probably my favorite person ever. Her name’s Yanli, she’s a pastry chef. My brother, Wanyin, is… he’s my best friend, but he’s kind of an acquired taste. In other words, he’s a total dickhead, but I love him anyway!” His laughter was almost as beautiful as his singing.

Qionglin couldn’t help but laugh too. “They sound great,” he mused.

“Yeah…” Wuxian sighed. “Even my boyfriend likes them, and he doesn’t like anyone!”

Qionglin’s heart dropped like a stone. “... your what…?” He whispered, praying he’d heard wrong. Involuntarily, his hands curled into fists in his lap.

Wuxian blanched. “My-- my boyfriend? Don’t tell me-- did I never mention him?”

“No. You didn’t.” Qionglin said shortly. He couldn’t believe he’d been so naive. He must’ve misread his kindness and openness as flirting, and like a fool, fell for it. Maybe Wuxian was just like this to everyone he met. He felt hot from the inside out, like his bones had turned to molten lead. His skin prickled, and his breath hitched like suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. “I should go.” He stood abruptly, slapped a stack of small bills on the table, more than enough for one glass of wine, and hurried out of the bar. 

The shock sobered him up instantly. He walked briskly down the street, vision blurred with tears. He hoped he was walking back to his car, but the streets all looked the same, especially in the dark. Stupid! Of course he already has someone! Why would he ever waste his time on me? He roughly swiped the tears away with his shirtsleeves. Just my fucking luck, isn’t it? The first time I ever like someone and it goes like this. So much for new beginnings and taking chances, huh?

“Wait--!” Wuxian fumbled for his wallet, paid quickly and ran after him. “Qionglin! Wait, I can explain!” 

Qionglin walked faster and tried to ignore him, but he caught up easily and cut him off. Qionglin took a shaky breath. “Explain what?” He spat, refusing to look at him. “I … I thought you… ugh, never mind.” Words rarely came easily, but it was even harder to speak when he was so worked up. “God I’m an idiot…” he muttered.

“No, you’re not--! I didn’t mean to… to lead you on or anything. I-- my boyfriend and I-- we’re open. I’m polyamorous.”

Qionglin blinked a few times. He’d heard that word before, but wasn’t sure he understood. 

“It means I sometimes have feelings for more than one person.” Wuxian explained. “My boyfriend, Wangji -- he doesn’t feel the same way, but he understands that I do, we have an agreement and everything. I-- I swear I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I really just forgot I hadn’t already told you.” Qionglin still avoided looking at him, but his tone was gentle and sincere. 

Qionglin sniffed. “S-- so what?” 

“So… Can I have a do-over? A new first date, a proper one. A-anything you want to do! I know I don’t deserve it… but I like you. Will you let me try again?” Slowly, shyly, he reached for Qionglin’s hand. Qionglin flinched but didn’t pull away, letting Wuxian gently prise his fingers apart and twine them together. 

Qionglin’s head was spinning. Suddenly he felt tipsy again. “S-so…” he repeated slowly. “You do like me…?”

Wuxian chuckled softly. “Yeah, I do.” With his free hand he reached up and delicately dabbed the tears from the corners of Qionglin’s eyes. “I’m so sorry I upset you like that. That was my fault.” For someone so carefree and vivacious, he could be surprisingly mature when he wanted to be. “I won’t do it again.”

Qionglin swallowed hard. “Okay…” he whispered.

Wuxian stepped even closer. Their chests were nearly touching. “Okay? You mean it?” He asked hopefully.

Qionglin nodded. He looked up at Wuxian finally, and managed a shy smile. Wuxian pulled Qionglin into his arms, squeezing tightly. Qionglin wondered when was the last time anyone hugged him like this. Tentatively, he brought his arms up and wrapped them around Wuxian’s waist, leaning into the embrace and resting his forehead on his shoulder. He was still reeling a bit from the emotional whiplash, but Wuxian’s arms were warm, strong, and grounding. His heart rate slowed, and his breathing evened out. "So a do-over, huh? A proper… date?" He said, voice muffled in the collar of Wuxian's jacket.

Wuxian finally let go and stepped back, hands still lingering on Qionglin’s own. “Yes! Let me know what you want to do. Say the word and we’ll go, okay?” 

Qionglin thought for a moment, humming and tipping his head to the side. 

“You don’t have to think of it right now!” Wuxian clarified. “You can just text me when you decide.”

Qionglin shook his head. “No, no, I’ve got it. Let’s go to the zoo. I'm… free tomorrow! Or next Saturday. Every Saturday, actually…"

Wuxian smiled that sunshine smile. “Tomorrow is perfect.”

#my writing #my art #ningxian #wei wuxian #wen ning #mdzs fic #keep an eye out for dumb little easter eggs #modern au #farmer's market au #it's not really about the farmer's market anymore lmao #edited