#some of these are like. a stretch i suppose
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“You ready, Lou?”
“Duh.”
“Cecil? You’ve got full faith in your cabin?”
“Yep.”
“What about you, Will? Were your threats successful?”
“My bribes went wonderfully, thank you.”
“Then I think we’re a go.”
“Gods, this is going to be great.”
———
Knockknockknock.
Nico locks in on his game. He is so, so close to finally making it through this stupid quest, he can feel it, and if he doesn’t beat The Imprisoned before Percy he’s going to set the camp on fire.
Knockknockknock.
“Just — hold on a second!” He spams B, cursing loudly to himself, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from holding this position for so long. “Fuck, fuck, come on.” He clenches his teeth, knuckles white against the Wii remote, until finally — the boss falls. He cheers.
Fuck yes. Take that, Percy.
Tossing the remote on his bed, he jogs over to the door, sliding open the three bolts and unlocking the chains. On his porch is a blur of movement, hair frizzy and pulled-on, shirt rumbled.
“Oh, hey, Annabeth.”
She barely acknowledges him, focusing intently on pacing back and forth on the stone porch at the speed of light. He settles against the door frame, stretching out his spine, watching her mutter to herself.
“Chiron is leaving,” she says.
Nico raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware.”
“With Mr. D. To some conference.”
“I heard.”
“He’s gone until early tomorrow evening.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He left me in charge.”
“Probably wise.”
“I need an allegiance, Nico.”
“Slow down and tell me what you mean, first.”
She sighs, coming to a stop in front of him. Her fingers still drum across her biceps, and her eyes dart around, evaluating. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip.
“Camp’s a lot of work,” she says finally. “I’ve never been in charge of so many people at once before, and like hell am I gonna let Chiron think I can’t handle it. I have a Plan, and you’re a part of it.”
Nico resists the urge to groan. Chiron leaving is supposed to mean he gets the next day or so off — no classes, no socializing, nothing. Just him in his cabin and the genuinely disgusting amount of junk food he has amassed.
(…And Will. Maybe.)
“It’s nothing crazy,” she promises. “I just need you to lurk.”
“…Lurk?”
“Yeah, you know. Chill in the shadows and scare people into complacency. You don’t even need to do much, just that thing where you stare at people like you know the exact day they’re going to die.”
“I do love lurking,” Nico admits. And to basically have a free pass to scare the shit out of whoever he wants… “I’ll do it.”
She smiles brightly. “Thanks, Nico! I knew I could count on you. I’ll meet up with you right after Chiron heads out, okay? To give you a list of people to keep your eye on.”
“Sure. Bye, Annabeth.”
“See ya!”
He closes the door and pads back to his setup, shaking the remote to get it going again. He can’t quite shake the smirk off his face.
The next twenty four hours are going to rock.
———
“Swiper No Swiping, initiate phase one.”
“Roger that, Sunny Dick.”
“…I’m revoking your code name priveledges.”
“No no no, I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”
———
Before Chiron leaves, he gathers them all in the amphitheatre.
“Children,” he calls, adjusting the bow slung across his back. “I am leaving now for my conference. I will be back before the sun sets tomorrow.” He gestures towards Annabeth, standing stiffly beside him. “Annabeth is in charge. Consider all my authority transferred to her before I return, am I understood?”
“Yes, Chiron,” courses the camp, some with significantly more attitude than others. Across the gathered crowd, Will catches his eye and winks. (Well, tries to. He has yet to catch on to the fact that he cannot, actually, wink, and instead just blinks really intentionally. Kayla and Austin have sworn him to secrecy.) Nico rolls his eyes, ears burning, and looks away.
“Good. Regular rules; no maiming, killing, or injuries above level seven. Any arson will result in a revoking of dessert privileges. Yes, Julia, even if you help in putting out the arson. It is the fire that is the issue, you understand. Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “I am looking forward to one day of peace. Try to avoid ruining it for me too quickly. Goodbye, children.”
With a wave and a fond squeeze of Annabeth’s shoulder, he trots over to Half-Blood Hill, ignoring Mr. D’s loud complaining about how long he took. With a snap of Mr. D’s fingers, they disappear. For a brief, uncanny moment, everything is still.
“Alright,” Annabeth shouts, clapping her hands together. Nico jumps. “Dinner is in an hour. Whoever is the first to fuck something up will be doing dishes. I will be watching. Dismissed.”
Wading through the swathes of ambling teenagers, she walks by where Nico is leaning against a pillar, half-hidden in the shadows.
“Lurk,” she orders, passing him.
Nico shoots her a mocking salute, fading into the shadow behind him. He barely catches her grin before he dissolves into the darkness.
———
“Phase two in effect. Ready to go, Sabrina Spellman?”
“Prepped to go, Teletubbies Sun Baby.”
“I hate both of you.”
———
“Halt!”
Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.
“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”
Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.
“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.
Annabeth stomps over to them, fists clenched at her sides, entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.
“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.
The three stooges exchange a look.
“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”
“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.
“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”
“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.
“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”
“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.
Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point. Idiots.
Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”
“Annabeth!” Will cries, hand to his chest, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”
“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”
Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.
“Tape off.”
Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.
“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”
With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name. Annabeth glares at the boxes with perhaps more disdain than the situation calls for.
Then again.
It is camp.
“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”
Like a hound dog locking in on a bleeding squirrel, Annabeth’s eyes narrow. Her lips spread into wide, frankly maniacal smirk.
“Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”
Caught.
“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.
“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”
“Do you three think I’m stupid.”
“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”
Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.
Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.
“Boo,” he whispers.
She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes.
“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.
On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.
“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”
“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”
Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.
Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.
Understanding dawns on her quickly.
“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”
They squirm harder.
“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”
“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”
“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”
“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.
“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”
Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”
“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you, how’s that for fun. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”
“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”
Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”
“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”
“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a wide grin and two middle fingers.
“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”
Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.
“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”
“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.
“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.
“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.
Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.
He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.
———
“Is he still looking?”
“No.”
“Okay, Phase Three, let’s go let’s go let’s go —”
———
Every time Nico wakes with the sun, he sets aside twenty minutes of his morning routine to curse Apollo, his father, Apollo again, Phanes, and Prometheus. In that order.
He does like the bonus of getting breakfast. Usually he sleeps through it and has to hope Will saved him coffee cake, which he does, every time, because he wants to bribe his way into Nico’s affections. But there is something to be said about camp coffee cake when it is still warm, crumbly on the top and soft on the inside. It is a rare and occasionally worth-it treat, and on his bleary walk to the dining pavilion, Nico tries to keep this in the forefront of his mind. Fresh coffee cake. Fresh coffee. Fresh fruit. And Will, probably, not that seeing him is worth getting up early or anything. (So what that he gets all excited and energetic when he sees Nico up in the morning. If anything it’s embarrassing for him.)
For once, he’s actually early enough that there are very few people already at breakfast. He sees most of the Athena kids, still half-asleep over their mugs, and pretty much every camper under the age of eleven. A few head counsellors, too, watching out for the little ones or catching up on a rare moment of quiet. Nico makes a beeline for the breakfast spread, cutting a slice of coffee cake to leave on the platter and putting the rest of it on his plate. He puts a single strawberry in the middle of it so no one can accuse him of being unhealthy, then ambles over to the Apollo table.
“Neeks? Where’re you going?”
Nico pauses. He shifts his plate to one hand, rubbing at his bleary eyes. He looks at the Apollo table. He counts one, two, three heads — Kayla, Austin, and…Cecil?
“Nico? You good, babes?”
He turns, slowly, to face the voice. Picking at a plate full of pineapple, next to Reika Onason, Lou Ellen's sister, is Will.
“I know mornings are hard for you, but you’re meant to eat at your table,” he teases. “Come sit, doofus. Unless you’re taking advantage of Chiron’s absence to make friends elsewhere, I guess, but it seems unlike you.”
“You’re — what’re you — what?“ Nico says dumbly, struggling to reconcile the imagine in front of him.
For some reason, Will is eating his breakfast at the Hecate table.
And that is not all.
For some reason, his camp shirt does not say head medic. For some reason, he is wearing black jeans. For some reason, dozens of Celestial bronze rings adorn his fingers, carved with sigils. For some reason, his hair is clipped back, and there is black eyeliner around his bright blue eyes, and his nails are painted darker than Nico’s, and he is sitting at the Hecate table.
“What are you doing?”
“Having…breakfast,” Will says slowly. His lips turn down in concern. “Nico, are you okay?”
“I’m fine! It’s — you’re the one acting weird!”
Will and Reika exchange a look.
“Maybe you should go see Cecil,” Will suggests carefully. “Did you sleep okay last night? Maybe you hit your head —”
Nico looks desperately back at the Apollo table. They watch him strangely now, too, and after a second Cecil gets up from his — Will’s — seat, and walks over.
“Everything okay?” he asks, impish expression almost serious. “You look pale, Nico.”
“I’m worried,” Will says. “He’s acting — confused, Cece, maybe there’s a —”
“I’m not confused,” Nico scowls. “You two are — doing something.” He gestures vaguely between them. “As revenge for yesterday.”
Will snorts. “What, the potatoes? Don’t let Lou hear you discredit her like that. If you think she’d plan some revenge prank on you this early, you don’t know her at all.”
Nico’s head starts to hurt. He sets down his plate, rubbing his temples. Why would Lou Ellen be so bothered by that? Why isn’t she here, with her sister? What the hell is going on?
“Both of you — cut it out. Whatever dumbass prank you’re pulling is just stupid.”
“Did I hear something about a prank?” Bounding over from the camp store, arms laden with contraband junk food, is Lou Ellen, smiling brightly. “Whatever it is, I want in!”
“Oh, thank the gods, you’re back.” Will makes grabby hands at the pile. She tosses him a pack of twizzlers off the top, rolling her eyes as he tears into like he didn’t just polish off two and a half entire pineapples and three bowls of oatmeal. “I was going through withdrawal.”
“I’m not helping you when your stomach cramps up,” Cecil promises, snorting. His eyes follow the candy ropes in their harried journey towards Will's gaping maw. “You can sit in your misery.”
“Bleh bleh bleh.”
Nico narrows his eyes at them. Clearly, they’re all in on this — bit, or whatever it is. It’s a little too coordinated to be a quickly-planned revenge prank. They must have had a backup to the potatoes, although a pretty weak one. Unless they somehow managed to bribe the entire camp into agreeing to act along with their dumbassery, and Nico knows none of them can come even close to affording that, then all it takes is one person on Nico’s side before their little ruse is broken.
“It’s too early for this,” Nico says, interrupting their bickering. He picks up his breakfast and trudges off to his actual table, ignoring Will’s pouting. He has to brush the dust off the bench, but it’s worth it to avoid whatever headache the three of them will inevitably give him.
Coffee cake, save him.
———
“It’s not looking good, Katara —”
“I actually like that one.”
“— he’s totally onto us.”
“Just stick to the plan. Power onto Phase Four.”
———
To Nico's great satisfaction, many other people do double takes as they walk into breakfast.
As the Athena table, minus Annabeth, who is likely putting out a literal or metaphorical fire somewhere, wakes up, they start to notice the strange seating situation. It starts with Malcolm, who stares at Cecil in a lab coat with the same expression Nico has seen him wear when attempting to solve the Hodge conjecture. He leans over to murmur something in his brother’s ear, and then all seven of them are looking between the Hecate, Apollo, and mostly-empty Hermes tables with suspicious frowns and furrowed brows.
Nico catches Will’s eye, smirking.
Game’s up, he mouths. Will only shrugs innocently at him.
It’s Annabeth who finally puts a stop to the nonsense, striding in at the tail end of the rest of the slowly-waking crowd. She has grass in her hair and murder in her eyes.
Excellent.
“I swear to the gods, I just dealt with you three,” she snaps, raising her voice so they all can hear her. Coincidentally, it attracts the attention of every other nosy person at camp, which is everybody. “Just ‘cause Chiron’s not here doesn’t mean the rules go out the window. Back to your tables, let’s move.”
“We’re at our tables,” Cecil protests. “Why do people keep saying that?”
Annabeth takes a very deep, very long breath. She has a whole day of this, too. How unfortunate for her.
“Maybe because you are full of shit, Markowitz. Go sit with the rest of you troublemakers.”
Kayla clears her throat. “Annabeth, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Her thin eyebrows are drawn tightly together, lips turned down into a frown. “Cecil is exactly where he’s supposed to be.”
That gives her pause.
That gives a lot of people pause. Nico sets down his coffee cake.
“Cecil’s at the Apollo table,” Annabeth says slowly.
Kayla meets her gaze, face creased in concern. “...Yeah, I know.”
“Cecil is a Hermes kid, Kayla.”
She snorts. “Yeah, sometimes I think so, too. But as much as I would absolutely love to trade my brother —”
“Hey!”
“He’s a healer, Annabeth. He got claimed and everything.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Annabeth says, dragging her hand down her face. “Kayla, I don’t know what they paid you —”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” With a clatter of plates, Will clambers on the table, clapping his hands. “Your attention please, everyone!”
Without so much as a pause, Will claps his hands together. Immediately, a ball of green light expands from them, flashing almost too bright to look at. Nico watches, slack jawed, as he tosses it into the air, making it explode into a thousand little sparkles, descending gently over everyone’s heads. The little kids laugh in delight, reaching for them like they’re bubbles.
“Does that settle things?” he demands.
Silence rings for one, two, three seconds.
The camp erupts.
Dozens of voices overlap, all shouting over each other at once. Hands gesture wildly at Will, at Cecil, at Lou — trying to piece things together. Will is their head medic — isn’t he? Then why is Cecil wearing scrubs? And why is Lou chilling at the Hermes’ table, chatting with Julia over a bowl of cereal? Something isn’t right.
“Just — everybody quiet!”
It takes a minute, but everyone settles down, sitting back in their seats and fidgeting, looking around with half-confused, half-amused smiles. Like they’re laughing at a joke they’re half convinced is real.
“Who thinks this —” Annabeth makes some vaguely indicative movement at Will, Lou, and Cecil — “is weird? Raise your hand.”
Almost all hands go up. Only a handful stay down — Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil, of course, but the entirety of the Hermes cabin stays oddly silent, as do Kayla, Austin, Reika, and, shockingly, Clovis.
“Stoll,” Nico demands before Annabeth gets the chance, “you’re buying this?”
“Buying what?” Connor says after a moment. He shrugs, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m just chillin’ with my sister, Nico. Cecil is great, but he hasn’t been in our cabin since he got claimed.”
The rest of the Hermes kids nod in agreement. Whispers filter through the tables — first Kayla, now all the Hermes kids?
“If I may,” interjects Clovis, yawning. “There’s an…energy, around.”
“Gods, yeah, I was feeling it too,” Will agrees frantically. “Almost a…blanket, of some kind. Something heavy and stifling.”
Malcolm looks over with interest. “You think we got cursed, or something? The whole camp?”
Will shrugs. “Maybe? Can’t think of any other reason you guys are remembering things weird.”
“It could be a god’s interference,” Nyssa suggests, raising her voice to be heard from the Hephaestus table. “I mean, that’s what happened to Jason and Leo and Piper, right? Their memories got fudged.”
“Yeah, but camp-wide…”
“Could still be possible.”
“There’s no way! They’re fucking with us, come on —”
It doesn’t take long for the arguing to start up again. This time, though, more people looked spooked — more people look to the dumbass trio themselves, eyes wide like they’re looking at ghosts.
Like they’re believing this shit.
Nico scowls, shoving away from his table and stomping over to his boyfriend.
“You are so full of shit I can smell you from across the room,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He wiggles his fingers in Nico’s direction. They spark with the same green light. “Want me to switch your eyes and ears again?”
That sounds horrifying. “Try it and die.”
“Alright, grouchy.” He holds his hands up, stepping back from Nico’s glare. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
Alarm bells go off in Nico’s head. This is more than just strange, it’s wrong. And not just ‘cause he looks different — so what if he looks different. Will could shave his head bald and tattoo himself purple, Nico wouldn’t care.
But his aura.
The essence of Will, that Nico has grown so used to be stopped noticing. The quiet, warmth strength, the feeling of a soft breeze in the summer, of walking past a window in the late afternoon, of smokey August campfires and scratchy guitar, is gone. Is different, rather; almost blocked. It feels like a cloud blowing over the sun, making everything warped and off and shadowy.
Something is afoot. Something is wrong, and not just some vague, made-up spell like the Trickster Trio would have the camp believe. Something like smoke and mirrors, something shadier.
He watches Will fall into step next to Cecil, ducking away from his ruffling hand. He frowns.
If there’s one thing Nico can do, it’s wade through the shadows.
———
next
#can anyone guess what these dumb ass mother fuckers did.#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#hoo#heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#nico di angelo#will solace#nico di angelo & will solace#solangelo#established solangelo#will solace & cecil markowitz & lou ellen blackstone#annabeth chase#nico di angelo & annabeth chase#my writing#fic#longpost
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Blood Ties Chapter 29
Series Masterlist
Warnings: Slightly graphic depictions of labor and childbirth
A/N: Maybe a cliffhanger. Maybe not. You'll have to read to find out! ;) Daryl is definitely ooc in this. I'm sorry, I tried to get as close as I could to how he might react. Also, the saying he uses is one we use in the south that means "how is that relevant?" You'll know it when you read it, lol.
“About 4cm now. Progressing nicely.” Hershel informed, wiping his hands on a cloth that Carol had provided.
Rick and T-Dog were out doing yet another night run in the van. It was also low on fuel but the map showed another town close by. Fuel, gloves, and other necessities were on the list. Glenn was on watch with Daryl for backup if anything happened. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it couldn’t be helped.
Thumper was calling the shots at that point.
Before the men had left, Daryl had confiscated all the blankets except for those that were for Lori and Carl. When Glenn began to complain, one look from the anxiety-driven archer had brought the young man very close to hiding behind Rick. While some blankets were used for your comfort, others were fashioned into a tent-like structure over the bare branches of a decently sized bush. You needed some sense of privacy.
Carol and Lori had dug through the maternity clothes that hadn’t been lost on the road and found a button up dress. It was comfortable and made things much easier than leggings.
After your immediate needs had been met, Daryl then perched himself just beside your shoulder and hadn’t moved since.
“S’the number we’re aimin’ for?” He asked with frustration lacing his tone, making sure the blankets were back over you and tucked tight to keep you warm. He had been muttering to himself how he wished he had made time to read the rest of the books. Daryl was not a man that liked being in the dark on anything. It made him feel helpless, as you had learned over the last several months.
“She needs to be at 10cm and the baby needs to be in the correct position before she can push.” The old man positioned the ear tubes of the stethoscope before pressing it against several spots on your belly. “Heart beat is strong. Everything is looking good.”
You had remained quiet until that moment. “Do I just—I don’t know—lay here?”
“Walking encourages the cervix to dilate and soften. Once you dilate a little further, the contractions will likely be stronger, whether painful or not.” The calmness that man practiced really made you want to strangle him with that stethoscope. “Make sure you don’t go alone, and—”
“She ain’t.” Daryl snapped.
Hershel shot him an admonishing look. “As I was saying, take breaks. Sleep when you can. I’ll check you periodically. You’ll need to keep timing the contractions, son.” Daryl nodded. “Sip small amounts of water, no food. Keep me informed of any changes. And as unpleasant as it may sound, if you feel the pressure and urge as if you may need to have a bowel movement, call for me immediately.”
You, as well as Daryl, reared back, lips curling.
“The fuck that gotta do with the price’a fish?” The archer queried, not so nicely.
“Settle down. The pressure from the baby’s head moving into the birth canal can feel similar to that.” Shaking his head, Hershel shuffled his way out of your tiny tent.
Finally alone, you turned onto your side and scooted your upper body toward Daryl. He stretched out his legs so you could rest on his thigh.
“Get some rest.” His hand wiggled beneath the blanket and rubbed up and down the length of your upper arm, but moved to your belly when another contraction took over. Without prompting, he slid his warm palm around to your lower back and applied the least bit of pressure, rubbing small circles. You buried your face into his thigh to ride it out, but you had to admit the light massaging helped, if only a little.
“You’re supposed to be—” You were panting when you rolled your head to remind him, but found the watch already lifted to eye level, his gaze shifting from it to your stomach.
“Sleep if ya can. I got this.” His brow was furrowed in concentration, your heart swelling and warm. Any worry you had entertained of him running when things got real, just gone in an instant. He was there. He was there.
“I’ll try.” You whispered, the pain finally an afterthought. You felt him slide his hand back to the side of your stomach before you let yourself succumb to exhaustion.
“Sorry, Sunshine. Doc says up, so up ya get.”
You let Daryl take your dead weight and pull you up by a grip beneath your arms, making it as difficult as possible so you might get to stay in your warm little nest. You were still at 4cm. Hershel had said you had to start walking to help labor progress.
“This isn’t fair.” You whined, rubbing your back once you were upright. The pain that accompanied each contraction had lessened but was still ever present. “Can’t you walk and I dilate?”
Daryl snorted. “Don’t think that’s how it works.” He placed a careful hand on the small of your back and kept your pace, slow as it was.
“Okay, then how about if it gets worse, I kick you in the balls and punch you in the kidneys so you can participate properly?” You were only half joking.
“If it gets ya through this, I guess.” The archer shrugged. You regarded him with a skeptical brow arched.
“You’d really let me do that?”
“Hell nah, but s’the thought that counts or some shit like that, right?” He didn’t even try to dodge the smack you aimed at his shoulder.
“You’re hilarious.” You deadpanned, even as you leaned into him while you strolled in circles around the perimeter. The moonlight caught the watch in his right hand, his finger tapping against the casing. Bless him, he was taking his role of supportive partner very seriously. You gasped when the next contraction came, stopping to bend slightly and breathe through it while Daryl secured an arm around you and flipped open the watch.
When it was clear you weren’t falling, he slid his hand to the middle of your back and massaged the length of your spine using gentle pressure from the heel of his palm. He never said much—if anything—during the episodes themselves, but kept you informed of the timing of each one.
“Oh, goddamnit, this one sucks.” You managed through clenched teeth. You swayed slightly when it was over, grasping blindly for the man next to you.
“Thirteen minutes since the last’un. A minute, twelve.” He was slow and careful when turning you back toward camp. “Let’s getcha back to Hershel.”
You shook your head. “One last loop, then we can go back.” Daryl didn’t say anything but you felt him tense. “I’m sure. They’re just getting a little more painful in the stomach, less in the back.”
He still hesitated. “Alright. One more.”
Hershel stepped into your path before you started the second loop, allowing Daryl to fill him in on the last contraction.
“Do one more. Rest. And then again.” The old man ordered curtly.
Once he had vanished back toward the small fire, you mocked his words. “Rest and then again.” Daryl shook his head beside you. “I mean seriously, how much help can walking actually be?”
“Fuuuuuck!” You were digging your fingers into the blankets below you, swatting away Carol’s hand when she tried to dab your face with a piece of cloth. Daryl was sitting beside, wide-eyed and lost, the watch forgotten by his leg. Hershel was between your knees, sporting his medical gloves that had been brought back by Rick and T-Dog.
The archer cleared his throat. “She alright?”
“Do I look alright, Daryl?!” You hissed, making an admirable attempt at breathing the way Carol was instructing. The contraction finally ended and you fell back onto the folded blankets. “I’m sorry.” You found his worried blue eyes easily and fumbled for his hand.
“S’okay.” He whispered, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.
“She’s at 6cm. We can still time the contractions but I think she may need your attention more than that watch does now.” Hershel reached for the item and placed it in his pocket once Daryl handed it over. “Keep moving but stay closer, no more perimeter walks.”
Daryl nodded, you whimpered.
“I’ll be back soon to check again. If we’re lucky, things will move a little faster now that you’re in active labor.” Hershel left the tent while Carol fixed your dress.
“I know it hurts, but you two will have little Thumper in your arms in just a matter of hours.” She smoothed your hair and tucked it behind your ears. “You’re doing great.”
“I don’t feel like I’m doing great.” You murmured, ducking your head almost bashfully. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you, Daryl. It just—well, it hurts and it’s hard to think.”
“Ain’t mad.” He tried for a half smile but it was weak. “Better than gettin’ kicked in the balls, I reckon.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. “Guess we oughtta getcha up again.”
“I’ll help.” Carol offered. You could see that a refusal was on the tip of Daryl’s tongue but he never voiced it. With Carol under one arm and Daryl under the other, you were pulled upright.
Your body already felt wrung out and sore, and the epic finale hadn’t even begun. Still, you allowed Carol to pass you off to Daryl.
“We movin’ on? Be better to find a house or somethin’.” He looped an arm around your back, following as you shuffled your way around.
Carol shrugged, not touching you but keeping up with your small strides. “Both vehicles have fuel but Hershel isn’t sure we should move her. He thinks the baby will come soon and she needs to be kept in one place.”
You groaned, letting your head fall back in frustration. “She is right here. And if my opinion matters, I’d rather not—” The contraction came on strong, halting you suddenly with your hand fisting into the lower part of Daryl’s vest. The archer stepped around in front of you, rough but gentle hands grasping your wrists to guide your arms to his shoulders.
“Try to breathe. Sometimes humming or even moaning helps, like an outlet.” Carol advised while rubbing your back.
Your head fell forward against Daryl’s chest, a deep but quiet moan muffled against the firm muscle beyond his shirt. His hands had fallen to your hips, his body followed you as you swayed back and forth. The episodes were growing more intense, coming closer together and lasting longer. It wasn’t difficult to surmise that things would be growing more difficult to handle.
“Ain’t nothin’ we can do for ‘er?” Daryl asked quietly above you, each word blowing his warm breath over the top of your head. Carol must have answered in the negative because his fingers flexed against your hips.
The skin of your belly was pulled so tightly that you swore it would tear open, the muscles feeling as if they would pulse right out of the gaping hole your torn flesh would leave.
“Shit.” You whimpered, your voice finding its way back during the last dregs of pain. You almost didn’t register warm hands gliding up and down your sides, a smaller hand on your back. “I don’t want to have the baby here.” You argued weakly. “It’s too open. Things will be too chaotic, too loud.”
“I know, Sunshine, but the doc says—”
“I don’t want to risk Thumper here in the open, Daryl. With—with walkers or people.” With enough strength having returned after the pain, you lifted your head, eyes pleading. “Please.”
The archer was visibly upset. He was just as vulnerable as you were at that moment, torn between what he felt was right and what Hershel said was for the best. His tongue wet his bottom lip before he pulled it in between his teeth, looking to Carol for guidance.
“Could lay down the seats in the van. Use the back.” He suggested. Plenty’a room an’ if we need to move fast—”
“I don’t think that’s unreasonable.” Carol agreed, rubbing your back in a few soft strokes before beginning to move away. “I’ll go talk to Hershel. You two keep walking.”
You watched her go, turning your gaze up to Daryl when he shifted back to your side to urge you along. “Gotta keep movin’.” You groaned, dragging your feet with your head falling back in frustration.
You were in the middle of a contraction, when you heard it. A snarl, a raspy growl much too close. You were already clinging to Daryl and breathing through the pain that was readying your body for Thumper’s arrival, but you’d have to let him go. He had to protect the baby. And to do that, he had to protect you.
But he didn’t move. He was nearly vibrating, rigid beneath your hands on his shoulders. He was just as scared as you were, even more so. He knew he could take the walker but that would mean letting you go. He needed to protect you but he wanted to support you. He had told you he'd never let you fall and you knew he had meant it.
“Go.” Your hands slid from his shoulders, down his chest before they released him completely to clutch your belly.
His boots disappeared from your view of the ground but you couldn’t focus after that. The pain was growing in intensity, immobilizing you with your lips tightly pressed to withhold the cries that vibrated behind your teeth for release. You couldn’t, you just couldn’t make a sound. You’d attract more, endanger everyone. You’d endanger Thumper. Daryl.
There were scuffles. More snarls. Tears were threatening your waterline. Pain was coursing through you like a serpent, slithering around each muscle and tendon and pulling them tight. You felt disappointment and guilt over all the agony when your mouth fell open with a guttural moan, your will to cut off the scream that begged to follow barely holding true.
“D—Daryl.” You cried out. And he was there, hands on your face, your biceps, your belly.
“M’here. M’here. Gotta move, though.” He swept you up with the slightest strained noise. “Gonna getcha to the van. Gonna find somewhere safe for ya.” The pain was fading. You could focus on the dark blood on his face, the dirt and grime.
“Herd?” You whispered.
“Ain’t your fault.” His expression emanated fear and stress. “The hatch.” Someone was with him. The small hands that opened the back of the van and spread out the blankets, those were Carol’s. She sat a pile of smaller blankets and squares of fabric toward the indents on the floor where the seats had been stowed.
“Get as many in the truck as you can! In the cab and the bed!” Rick was calling out at the same time that Hershel climbed into the van. Daryl was careful when he placed you inside, climbing over you before pulling you further in to make room for Hershel and Carol.
Through your haze of exhaustion, you saw Rick climb in the driver's seat and Maggie beside him. That meant that five others had to somehow fit into the truck.
“Is everyone okay?” You asked, eyes pleading with Daryl for an honest answer.
“Yeah, they’re all good.” He nodded, smoothing a hand over your hair.
The van was moving, though you didn’t realize when it had started. Hershel was between your knees when another contraction came. It felt like only moments had passed since the last one. In the safety of the van, though you couldn’t be bothered to consider that, you bowed forward with a scream. Daryl gingerly worked your fingers loose from the blanket to take your hand.
“She’s at 9cm. This baby is coming soon.” Hershel didn’t move this time, he and Carol began sorting things that you couldn’t see. Panting, you leaned to the side, knowing Daryl would be there. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed.
“What—” He swallowed audibly. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“Just be with her.” Carol poured some water from a bottle onto a piece of fabric and passed it across you for Daryl to take. “Wipe her face, put it behind her neck.”
The archer’s hand was trembling fiercely when you felt the blessed cool cloth touch your forehead. The moan that left you was not one of pain but utter relief. “Oh, that’s nice.” You breathed. Your skin was on fire, every cell of your being felt twisted and wrong. But that trembling cloth wiping at your face grounded you, centered you around what your body was preparing to do.
You were so close to being a mother.
But that didn’t stop the scream that ripped from your throat when the next contraction tore through you. You sat up, propped on your elbows with your eyes screwed shut. Tears leaked from the corners, the wailing cutting off into wretched sobs when you felt Daryl’s forehead fall against the crown of your head, his mantra of m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry shattering you into a million shards.
You couldn’t tell him it was okay. You couldn’t remind him why you hurt. You couldn’t reassure him that he was the one you wanted and you were more than happy to do this with him. For him. You didn’t have the breath.
“Don’t push, Y/N. Not yet.” Hershel’s tone was even but not cruel, his gloved hands on your knees.
“It fucking burns!” You shrieked, squeezing Daryl’s hand until you were certain you felt the bones shift. The contraction let up, the fiery sensation dulling but ever present.
“What’s happenin’?” Daryl sounded breathless. Terrified. You were still catching your breath when you looked up at him. His tan skin was white as a sheet, no color in his lips. His blue eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. From tears or fear, you couldn’t be sure.
“The baby’s in the right position. Y/N, it’ll be time to push soon. It’ll be very important for you to listen to everything I say. Can you do that?” Hershel wasn’t looking at you, between moving around things Carol was handing to him and keeping a constant eye on your progress. Distantly, you wondered why it was Carol at his side and not Maggie. Maybe because you were close with Carol? For your comfort?
“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” You turned your attention back to Daryl when his grip on your hand loosened slightly. He swayed, the pallor of his skin growing more concerning. “Daryl?”
The archer shook his head almost violently. “M’good.”
“Okay, I just—oh, fuck, already!?” You grit your teeth as your stomach tightened, a visible shift beneath the fabric of your dress.
“Maggie, can you climb back here?” Hershel requested calmly. His eldest said nothing but maneuvered her way into the back and on your opposite side. “I fear we may lose Daryl at any moment and Y/N will need support.”
“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Daryl snapped but it was a weak effort. He inhaled deeply and began squeezing your hand to keep you from dislocating his fingers.
“Here.” Carol passed him an opened bottle of water. “Drink a few sips. You’re white as a ghost.”
You were barely aware of everything happening around you, shaking almost violently to refrain from bearing down until Hershel told you to do so. It was bordering on excruciating.
“Jesus Christ, it feels like you’re holding a flamethrower to my fucking pussy!”
Hershel sighed while Maggie and Carol chuckled and Daryl snorted out a quiet nice, Y/N.
“It’s just the birth canal stretching to make room for the baby.” The veterinarian explained coolly.
“Just?” You mocked. “Just, he says while it’s my—oh Jesus fuck!” With all the presence of mind you could summon, you managed not to start screaming at Daryl for putting you in that position. You knew that beyond the pain and fear, you wanted Thumper in your arms more than anything in that fucked up world.
“Okay, Y/N,” Hershel patted your bare knees just at the tail end of the contraction to ensure he had your attention. You had fallen back against Maggie while Daryl held the cool cloth against the back of your neck. His hand was vibrating your skull to the point that you nearly asked him to move away. “You’re ready. On the next contraction, you need to push.”
“God, your calm voice makes me want to kick you in the teeth.” You didn’t mean it—mostly. Hershel must have known that because he chuckled. You could feel the next contraction already building when the van lurched to a stop, throwing everyone in it.
“We got a herd in front of us!” Rick called from the front.
“Go ‘round it! Turn ‘round! Just keep ‘em off us!” Daryl yelled as the pain peaked. “Fuck!” He bellowed when your hand began to shake with how hard you squeezed his own.
“Push!” Hershel shouted over the bumps and jerks of the van doing whatever Rick had deemed best. “Good, good!” He began to countdown from ten while you screamed.
You were being torn open. Thumper was going to rip you in half on their way out. Your throat was raw, surely bleeding from your wails. When the old man reached one, you fell back against Maggie but Daryl’s hand was there too.
“Maggie, Daryl, hold behind her knees. Help support her legs. It’ll keep her hips open.” Both moved forward, taking you with them to sit you up a little straighter. Daryl had to release your hand to hold you and your leg. The archer hissed with the pressure against his abused palm. “Perfect. Alright, Y/N. A nice, strong push this time.”
You almost snarled. “Last one wasn’t good enough?”
“Easy, Sunshine.” You felt Daryl's lips against your temple and yearned to keep them there.
“I’m sorry, Hershel.” Once again, the man simply smiled. Lori had told you that childbirth in the movies was often dramatized but so far, you weren’t seeing the truth in that statement. When the contraction reached a crescendo, you leaned forward while Maggie and Daryl held your legs steady. The pain was extraordinary. You almost wished you could see what was happening, but any train of thought was derailed with Hershel’s next words.
“The baby is crowning!”
Gasping, you swallowed hard, glancing at Daryl—who had a front row seat to what was happening—and then back to Hershel. “Crowning?”
“The head will be out soon.”
“All this and we don’t even have the head out?!” You screeched, just as your stomach rippled into a rigid mound and you were pushing again. This pain was different. Thumper was definitely ripping you apart. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! It burns!”
“S’that—” Daryl cleared his throat and swallowed, swaying on the spot. “S’that normal?”
“Perfectly normal.” Hershel glanced up at the archer, back down, and then up again. “Carol.” He needn’t say anything else. The other woman was moving to grab the back of your leg and let Daryl fall against her so he didn’t smack his head on the side of the van.
You were completely unaware, your entire focus centered on the inferno between your legs. There was no way any woman would willingly do this unmedicated. Never in your life had you wanted drugs more than you did in that moment. Thumper. Thumper, Thumper. You chanted internally, even as your vocal chords vibrated harshly with your screams. And just as you thought you would lose consciousness from the pain, it lessened. It hadn’t disappeared but comparatively, you would take that over the prior.
“The head is out!”
Panting, you smiled but then fell into confusion when you saw Carol beside your leg and Daryl slumped against her. “Daryl? Daryl?!” You shifted but Maggie held you still. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.” Hershel chuckled.
“Who knew a man that could gut a walker without batting an eye couldn’t watch his baby’s head come out?” Carol smiled but began to act, jerking her shoulder to jar the archer. “Daryl. Daryl, wake up. You don’t want to miss this.” He stirred and started to lean back. “Think you can take a look without losing it again?”
“Shuddup.” He shook his head hard, grunting. His hand was the first thing to move, sliding beneath Carol’s to take hold of your leg. Then he was looking at you. “M’sorry. That was—fuck, m’a pussy.” Maggie was moving your hand and pulling you forward as you watched your partner.
Then your fingers were touching a soft, albeit slimy, head.
You gasped. “Daryl.”
The man gulped, but then sat up on his knees a little. You watched the fear and apprehension melt away into awe, his jaw loosening, eyebrows rising, and eyes beginning to shine. “S’that—”
“That’s Thumper.” You were able to say before Hershel announced your miniscule break was over. He didn’t need to say a word, your body was already letting you know. Daryl’s hold felt stronger now and he was watching with an awestruck intensity that just made your heart want to explode even as you rode out the waves of agony. You were going to be a little family.
Then, out of the blue, you could feel something was different, wrong.
“Her—Hershel—Ow, fuck—” You fingers clawed at Daryl’s chest, his wet eyes going wide with concern. The contraction ended and you were gasping and swallowing convulsively, feeling nauseous regardless of your lack of food. Daryl’s eyes were darting back and forth between you and the old man. “Daryl, something—something’s wrong.” You could tell the baby had not moved an inch during the pushing, but not only that, it felt like they had actually pulled back toward your opening.
“I know.” Hershel’s voice had lost the calm and was taking on an emergent edge. “The baby is stuck.”
Panic flashed over Daryl’s face in the form of anger. “The fuck ya mean stuck?!”
Still trying to catch your breath, sweat dripping into your eyes, you thought for certain Daryl was going to jump across your leg and attack the old man. Thankfully, he remained at your side. Trembling and breath stuttering, but he wasn’t moving.
“Shoulder dystocia. The baby is turned in such a way that the shoulders can’t fit through the pelvis. Carol, I will need your help, please.” You were already on the edge of the next contraction when Hershel nearly barked “Y/N, don’t push.”
“What the fuck’re ya doin’?” Daryl snapped, leaning over your leg to investigate. So many emotions were battling for dominance in his expression that you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling.
“Daryl, please.” You pleaded, trying your hardest not to sob. For once, you cared nothing about being self-reliant or what the group thought of you and how much you needed Daryl. As you fought through the pain and against your body’s natural insistence to push, you just cried. Daryl kept a hand below your knee, too afraid to move unless Hershel gave the okay, but he leaned as far as he could to hold you without influencing your position.
“S’okay, Sunshine. S’gonna be okay.”
“Y/N, listen to me. I can feel the shoulder.” Now, the veterinarian’s tone was just downright frightening. “Maggie and Daryl are going to pull your legs back on the next contraction. I’m going to apply some pressure above your pubic bone. It’s not going to be pleasant, but if I’m correct, the head should come and then the baby. I need you to push with all you have, do you understand?”
You pressed your cheek further into Daryl’s chest and nodded, hiccuping through ragged, exhausted breaths. When the contraction began to tear through you, Maggie and Daryl reacted immediately, pulling your legs toward your belly while you curled inward with a guttural scream. Hershel pressed into the area just above your pubic bone, the pressure only compounding the whirlwind of pain you were already caught in. And then it was over and you let the two supporters take your weight.
The van rocked again, but was ignored. Hershel looked at Carol gravely and shook his head.
“S’that ‘bout?” Daryl hissed, trying hard for your sake not to lose his cool.
“It didn’t work.” Before Daryl could speak, the old man continued. “We’re going to try one more time. If it doesn’t work, there are a couple of other things we can try but time is of the essence. The baby isn’t getting the oxygen they need like this.”
“Whatever ya gotta do. Just take care’a both’a ‘em.”
Hershel nodded. “Alright, same thing, Y/N. A big, big push for me.”
You shook your head, exhausted. “I can’t.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy as hope attempted to flee and you accepted that once again, the world would take from you. It would take from Daryl. “I’m so tired.” You felt movement beneath your left leg and then Daryl’s hand was grasping your chin, firm but gentle.
“Hey. Cut that shit out.” He wasn’t angry. He was using the same tone you’d heard him use when he had told Thumper to cut you some slack. When he had started communicating with the baby. “Ya’ve gone through hell an’ back for this an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya quit at the goddamn finish line, ya hear me?”
“I’m tired, Daryl.” Your face screwed up in pain as the next contraction began to build.
“Nu uh. Ya ain’t gonna bust into my life an’ fuck up my world six ways from Sunday, make me love ya an’ this kid, an’ then just give up. S’you an’ me an’ Thumper. S’what ya said!”
You blinked at him, slowly starting to sit up.
“I’ve seen ya be a badass before, Sunshine.” Your breaths were coming faster, the contraction nearly on top of you, but you only had eyes for Daryl. “Be a fuckin’ badass now.” His hand left your face and went back to your leg, pulling it toward you at the same time Maggie moved the right one.
You screamed so loud that you were certain the rocks and bumps of the van were due to your wails alone. Something shifted, you felt it and it hurt. You were on fire and aching at the same time. When the contraction ended, you still felt painfully stretched and bruised and uncomfortable. “Did—did it work?” You panted, grasping desperately for Daryl’s shirt.
“The head is out, the shoulders are turned. One more big push, Y/N. Just one more.”
You breathed harshly through your nose, trying to amp yourself up. Maggie and Carol were throwing encouragement your way, but you didn’t hear them. You only felt Dary’s breath against your ear, his stubbled cheek rubbing against your skin.
He whispered, only for you to hear. “I love ya.” Kissing your temple, he moved back to his spot and when you looked at him, exhausted and crying, the corner of his mouth twitched and he nodded.
You could do this.
When the next contraction ripped through you, the world went silent. It was only you and the pain, white hot and all consuming. You were indeed being torn in half but if it meant Thumper would take that first breath, would open those little eyes to see the world—fucked up or not—then you would gladly be wrenched into pieces.
The moment the baby slipped free of you, you felt the emptiness. You still hurt, but the worst of the pain was suddenly absent. Sound and sight came back to you in an onslaught that had you sucking in a breath like your lungs had been starved.
“Is—Hershel, the baby?” You asked, trying to move as Daryl and Maggie lowered your legs. The archer was leaning across your knee. You couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, but his eyes were wide and darting.
“Doc—”
The ferocious first cries of the distraught newborn echoed throughout the van. Maggie had moved behind you to keep you sitting up while Daryl had staggered backward and fallen on his ass against the interior wall, eyes on the little thing that Hershel was looking over intently. Maggie reached over your shoulder and began unbuttoning your dress, whispering in your ear as she moved.
“The baby needs to nurse, bond with you on your skin and it’ll help when you have to push out the placenta, okay?” You blinked at her, concerned. “It’s okay. It’s nothing like what you just went through. One or two small pushes and it’s out.”’ You nodded robotically, watching Hershel maneuver some sort of tape around a slimy cord.
Thumper was not happy. They were probably cold and that thought made your heart ache. Your baby should never be uncomfortable. Daryl was slowly, clumsily making his way toward you, but wasn’t taking his eyes off the baby. When he was sitting beside you, Hershel finally leaned over you and placed the squirming, slippery baby on your chest.
“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”
#murda writes#blood ties#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#pregnant!reader#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl angst#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon twd
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Vanishing Act ~ HHJ
⤜WORD COUNT: 1.7K
⤜GENRE: Established relationship, mafia romance, mafia boyfriend! NON IDOL, Arguing couple, fighting, making up, cry baby reader, angst with a fluffy ending
⤜PAIRING: Hyunjin!Mafia x Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
A/N: I lost the original screenshot! But I remembered cry baby reader so I hope this is okay!
Hyunjin paced back and forth in the dimly lit office he'd spent most of the day in, his mind plagued with worry. You had vanished without a trace earlier in the day. You hadn't answered his calls or messages, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that gnawed at him. In their world, disappearing like that wasn't just unusual; it was dangerous. His anxiety only grew in his chest the more he thought about what could have happened to you.
"Did you find her?" He growled out at your personal guard who had managed to lose you this morning. He'd hired Mark because he was supposed to be the best of the best, an ex-military man who was also a private investigator and you'd managed to get out of his sights.
"No," The man gulped, looking around at the office and back at Hyunjin who looked as though he was about ready to throw up at the thought of something happening to you. Being who he was in this world meant anyone close to him had a giant target on their back and you were the closest person to him in the whole world.
As the hours stretched on, Hyunjin's anxiety mounted higher and higher as he thought about everything. He imagined all sorts of scenarios - rival gangs, undercover cops, or some personal vendetta targeting you. He couldn't afford to lose you. You were his anchor, his solace in the tumultuous world they inhabited, you were everything to him and the thought of losing you was tearing him up inside.
Finally, as the evening descended into darkness, Hyunjin made his way home ready to find someone else to try and find you but when he walked through the door he couldn't believe his eyes.
You were sitting calmly on the couch, engrossed in a book, and his anger flared. No one had been able to find you and you'd just been sat there all day?
"Where the hell have you been?" he barked, his voice echoing off the walls. You jumped, dropping your book onto your lap and staring up at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion spread across your face.
"Hyunjin, I was just out for a walk. I needed some time alone." You breathed out, you assumed he was referring to you being gone most of the day. You just needed some time away from everything to relax and clear your mind.
Something you used to do a lot before the two of you had moved in together, something you didn't think was that big a deal, especially since you'd stuck to the gardens of his mansion and just spent most of the days in there. The place he had once told you was the safest place in the country.
"Alone?" Hyunjin's voice rose, his frustration bubbling over as he stared at you, how could you not be taking this as seriously as he was? Did you find this all funny?
"You think you can just disappear like that? Do you have any idea how worried I was? Do you know many enemies we have out there that would love to get their hands on you!?" His voice bounced off the walls and you stood up, wanting to get away from his wrath since you knew he would go on a tangent for a while.
"Hyunjin-" He cut you off by shaking his head at you and scoffing loudly,
"Don't Hyunjin me! You know how worried I get when you disappear on me without a word!" He yelled, his anger finally getting the better of him as he lashed out at you, knowing deep down that it was wrong for him to do so.
"What if someone had gotten to you? Huh? Kidnapped you?!" You stared down at the floor, feeling the tears starting to rush into your eyes as you did your best to stop it from happening.
You were so insecure whenever it came to crying in front of anybody but especially someone that you were getting into an argument with. You hated that whenever someone was yelling at you your body's response was to cry, it was the same thing that happened whenever you were angry the tears would just stream down your cheeks. Hyunjin's anger surged as he saw tears rolling down your face, your shoulders trembling with silent sobs but instead of softening, his words only turned harsher, cutting through you like a knife.
"Stop crying!" He barks at you, his voice laced with venom and impatience.
"Is that all you know how to do? Acting like a damn crybaby whenever someone yells at you?!" You flinched at his words, your head shooting up and finding his eyes on you as you stared back at him. your tears flowing more freely now, your silent sobs turning into choked gasps as he turned your insecurity back on you. Something you'd never thought Hyunjin, of all people, would do to you.
You struggled to compose yourself, wiping your cheeks with trembling hands, but the tears refused to stop flowing. Hyunjin's heart clenched at the sight, a pang of guilt piercing through his anger and allowing him to see how much he had hurt you.
He knew just how insecure you were about it, how you saw it as a sign of weakness but his frustration had gotten the better of him and now he'd only added to your pain,
"Yn, I..." He began, his voice faltering as he reached out to you, but you recoiled, your eyes filled with hurt and betrayal.
"Don't," You whispered, your voice barely coming out, you couldn't believe that he would do this to you.
"Just...Don't," You choked out, walking away from him as he called for you to go back to him but you couldn't. Right now you didn't want to be near him or face him after what he had said to you.
After an hour or so Hyunjin decided to venture up to your shared bedroom, his anger had completely vanished the second he realised how hurt you were but he'd wanted to give you some time alone before he came up to your room. Entering the room, he found you curled up on your bed, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
The sight tore at his soul, a painful reminder that he had been the one to cause all of this.
"yn," He whispered as he approached you cautiously, his footsteps hesitant as he sat down beside you.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," His voice was barely audible over the sound of your tears. You flinched at his words but you didn't push him away. Instead, you turned over to face him, your eyes red-rimmed and filled with sorrow.
"You always say that." You murmur, "But it doesn't change anything." Hyunjin felt a stab in his chest, he knew he messed up and he knew that mere apologies wouldn't be enough to mend the damage he had created. He reached out to you, his hand shaking as he wiped away tears from your cheek.
"I know," He admitted, his voice heavy with regret, "But please, Yn, give me a chance to make it up to you. I'll do anything, I swear," He begged. He wasn't below begging you, he would do anything for you, take a bullet, run in front of a car, anything for you.
"What could you even do to make this up to me?" You mumbled, your voice tinged with scepticism and he moved to sit beside you on the bed, looking at you as he sighed softly.
"I had a whole evening planned you know, I was going to take you out to dinner...wine and dine you," He smiled weakly as you stared at him,
"When you weren't here I freaked out, I got scared that something had happened to you and I let my anger get the better of me," He admits as he looks down at your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours and squeezing softly.
"You disappeared all day without a word...I was worried." He admits to you, not trying to get into another argument but just wanting you to understand his side of all of this.
"The thought of anything happening to you kills me inside." He whispered and you stared at him,
"I wasn't in any danger, I was in the gardens most of the day...I just took some time alone," Your voice had a tinge of frustration but you cuddled into your boyfriend's arms.
"You can't just wander off without a word, in this world, I need to know where you are." He pleaded with you, his eyes finding yours as you bite down on your lip and nod at him.
"I worry because I love you. I can't bear the thought of losing you." He whispers as you kiss his cheek softly,
"I love you too," You whisper back to him as his eyes start to fill with tears.
"I...I just can't lose you, Yn. Not now, not ever," He whispers as tears start to fall down his cheeks, your arms wrapping around him and cuddling closer to him. Your chest hitting something hard in his pocket,
"What-" Your laugh cut you off as you felt the box inside of his pocket.
"Oh," He groans pulling the box out from his jacket pocket and holding out the small velvet box. It was something he'd been planning to give to you at dinner that night before all of this had happened.
Slowly he opened the box and revealed a delicate diamond necklace.
"I got this for you, I wanted to give it to you tonight, but I messed everything up," He laughed softly as you traced your fingers over the intricate design.
"Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how much you mean to me," He begged, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears before you nodded slowly, a small smile playing on your lips.
"Okay," You whispered, kissing him softly as he carefully put the necklace around your neck and made sure it was perfectly sitting on your skin.
@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@stayconnecteed@saymyspringrain@toplinehyunjin@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@just-aelia@choisoorin@straykids5star@midnightfrog625@beccaskz@scarletemeterio@halesandy@junhannies@gothic4under4lord@lixie-phoria@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lensfilm@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact@kpopsstuffs@chaeyoungs@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@niktwazny303@moonlight-the-writer@armystay89@hadassahchan@yxngbxkkie@myyouthdonut@extrhotjne@ca11me3mily@elissasimp@piercedddriver
#skz#skz x reader#skz imagine#skz imagines#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagine#stray kids imagines#hyunjin#hwang hyunjin#hwang hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin imagine#hwang hyunjin imagines#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin imagine#hyunjin imagines
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|| welcome fellow Ghoul fuckers ily
|| notes: sequel to [this], got nothin' to really say beyond reader and Cooper make the most fucked up implied pseudo parents for Lucy lmao, Canon somewhat compliant, post s1, gonna have to wait for the prequel meeting dic to know why reader knows Coop's whole name
|| warnings: weapons supplier!reader, Canon typical gore/violence, something something save a horse ride a cowboy, NSFW ㅡ fingering, edging (i had to take a lap around my house), irradiated cream pie, unprotected sex (supposedly those swimmers are FRIED but I can dream),
The low croak of a crow echoes over the barren stretch of sunbaked, irradiated earth ㅡ and the creature itself lands on the bent, rusted post of a long gone sign. Tilts its head this way and that, blinks liquid black eyes ㅡ three of them. Then squawks indignantly when a bullet narrowly misses it, jet black wings flaring as it takes to the sky to complain in that low, creaking voice.
"Get lost," you tell the bird, glancing at the way Dogmeat tracks the creature. Then she whines, licks at her muzzle like she wants to go catch and eat the damn thing.
"Don't even think about it, pup." You inform her, soothing the disappointment with rough scratches to her head that have her nudging for more before you walk away, sharp whistle summoning her to your side. You don't know why, but she's taken a shine to you over your companions, and you're not about to push her away.
The set up for tonight isn't far off, but it's the skitter of some other creature off in the distance paired with the ominous rumble from above that gets your attention ㅡ and you click your tongue at the foreboding, electric green that rolls in the clouds, cracking with lightning. It isn't nightfall yet, but it's growing closer with that mess on the horizon.
There's a pitiful attempt at a fire being made by Lucy when you return, and she offers a smile that you echo briefly before moving to Cooper's side, nudging him with your boot. "Storm's rollin' in."
He grunts, tugs his hat from where he'd been shading his face ㅡ pretending to sleep to ignore Lucy's still-attempting-to-be-friendly rambles, you suppose. "How far out?"
You shrug, slinging your pack back onto your shoulders. "About an hour, give or take."
Lucy flicks a confused look to both of you as Cooper gets to his feet as well, and her head tilts. "Why're we moving?"
You raise an eyebrow. "You want radiation sickness, vaultie?" It's worth it for the way she bristles, and you snicker. "Come on. There's something of a building not far from here."
You're kind enough to wait for her unlike Cooper, who heads off with Dogmeat while you trail with Lucy.
The building was probably an apartment complex at one point for the squared off, honeycomb like interior, the sections that remain halfway decent.
The presence of scattered, long empty supply packaging ranging from stimpacks to tins of cram says that you aren't the first to be here though, and you split off with Cooper to scout out the place, leaving Lucy with Dogmeat.
You're just as quick with tongue and trigger as Cooper ㅡ Lucy has learned that the hard way over the last week or so. But there's still a softness to you that Lucy likes, gravitates towards ㅡ and figure that Cooper likes it too, for the way she spots him watching you sometimes, pretends not to notice when he looks up and glares at her.
"Clear," you report, pulling her from her thoughts as you toss her a bedroll and a spare blanket. Where you got them, she doesn't know. And the dark stains of what absolutely is most likely blood tells her she doesn't want to know.
What she does know is that she's allowed what constitutes as a room to herself ㅡ three walls and a roof that won't cave in are enough for her to take it without complaint. Dogmeat goes with her, and when she looks up, she knows why with the unspoken way you and Cooper split off for the same little room a couple broken spaces down from hers.
"Get some rest, Lucy," you tell her, offer a small smile that makes her beam as she settles down for the night, deciding that she is far, far better off not thinking about just how close you and Cooper actually are.
"Cute kid," you remark as you finally trail into the room after Cooper, earning an amused scoff.
"Fuckin' annoying is what she is," he grouses, and it's your turn to laugh as you shrug off your pack and kneel, digging for your own bedroll.
"Considering that's what you called me when we first metㅡ"
"No, I called you an annoying bitch."
"Potayto, potahto." You tug the bedroll free and roll it out, blinking as Cooper settles himself over it with a groan and then a sigh. "Excuse me."
He peers up at you. "What now?"
"This is my bed." You snip, jerking a thumb over your shoulder. "Up, Cooper."
"Nah." He folds his arms behind his head. "You like the vaultie so much, go cuddle up with her."
You stare. "Cooper Howard," you say, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous of the kid." He's silent, and you raise an eyebrow. "Are you?"
"No." The words is sharp, and he lifts his head to eye you. "Don't need to be jealous when I know what's mine," he rasps, "now quit bitchin' and c'mere."
You don't know what it says that you do so without fuss, settling yourself to straddle his hips as he sits up, draping your arms over his shoulders.
"There," you snip, adjusting to flick at the rim of his hat. "Better?"
He watches you with eyes as dark as an oil spill, and you don't miss the flick to your mouth and back up. "Gettin' there."
You snort. "You know," you murmur, tone dropping lower, "if you wanted to kiss me, all you gotta do is ask."
He smirks, the flash of his teeth. "Where's the fun in that, sugar? I like the chase. Besides," he lowers his tone, leans in further, "you're the one bitchin' when we can share this sad excuse for a bed. And the way I see it, you're gettin' the better deal anyways."
You roll your eyes, act like you're annoyed ㅡ but the way you don't tell him to shove it or get off of him speaks volumes enough.
Poetically, it starts raining just as you kiss him. The fingertip drum of it on the roof, sour-sweet smell of it that still reaches you because this isn't a real bedroom, just some shitty excuse for it. Doesn't matter, because this is far better than the kisses you've stolen over the last few days when you're absolutely certain Lucy isn't watching either of you.
Cooper seems to think so too for the way he deepens the kiss, cups your face as he nips at your lower lip and licks into your mouth when they part.
He squeezes at your hips, snakes his fingers back under your shirt, pinches and tugs and maps until you're squirming in his lap as he shoves your shirt off completely. He pulls, coaxes you into an arch that lets him mouth at your ribs, nip and sow sparks of pleasure in your veins as he leaves little patches of bruised pink skin in his wake.
He likes marking you, he realizes, the subtle claim without him having to say it. Mine.
He welcomes the grind of your hips against his, your body soft in all the ways that his isn't, filling in the cracks and rounding out all his sharp edges until he can't think of anything but getting his hands on you properly.
The pop of the button on your jeans is easy, the slip of his hand deliberate ㅡ you're louder this time, covered by the storm above as you whine and moan and buck into his hand and the sinful, clever work of his fingers.
And then just as you're about to crest that wave of pleasure, he stops. Smirks at the way you glare, taps your nose with his other hand. "You know you don't get nothin' for free around here, sugar."
He's teasing though, pushes you back to work his belt open, pants down ㅡ then dragging you back over him. Groans, tips his head back at the teasing glide of you before he's adjusting to line himself up and guiding you down.
The gasp he gets is music to his ears, nearly lost to the gutteral, hissed noise he makes himself at the tight, warm squeeze of you around his length. His eyes roll, and he bucks his hips up.
"C'mon sweet thing," he rasps, "don't make me do all the work. Ride for me."
The rhythm is stilted for the way he grips your hips anyways, reluctant to let you pull off of him too much ㅡ but it still feels good. Your breath matches the staccato movement, hands splayed on his chest for balance and head thrown back, looking for all the world like some sort of dedication to a long gone diety that he'd gladly worship to the end.
And he does still, reverence to the way he touches, kisses, bites ㅡ throbbing vitality in your veins calling to him, sweet siren song wrapped in those plush lips of yours. Soft skin squeezed under his fingers, forgiving for all the ways he can't be gentle, desperate as he is.
It's the throttled clamp of your warmth that says you're coming undone, gooey and wet and warm in all the right ways that has him clutching at you, cursing as his hips jerk and he fills you, mouthing at your pulse point as he does.
Heavy breathing sets the undertone of the roll of thunder outside crumbling walls, rapid beat of two hearts, and there's something dangerously soft, romantic in the way he lets you melt into him.
You drape over him, whisper soft kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his mouth until he kisses you back, slowly, selfishly, dangerously sweet.
"You," he tells you, "are absolutely no good for me." He slings an arm over your waist, softens the bite until it's nonexistent.
After all, what's one more vice?
ㅡ
In the morning, the four of you leave ㅡ there's a lot of ground to cover, after all. Lucy walks beside you, Dogmeat and Cooper just a few feet ahead.
"So," she begins conversationally, "what're those marks on your neck from?"
To your credit, you neither flinch nor blush, busy yourself with fussing with something at your hip. "Mosquitos."
Lucy hums. "That's funny, didn't realize mosquitos got so big. Best be careful then, huh?"
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When I Became a Believer
Azriel Fem!Reader
Part Four
Summary - After dancing under the stars, you wake up and find yourself reuniting with a male you never thought you'd encounter again. Though, lurking fragments of your past life in Spring rear their ugly heads and you find that a certain someone isn't ready to let you live happily ever after.
Warnings - fluff, old friends reuniting, some angst, mentions of past trauma, slight ptsd themes.
Part four of the 'When I Kissed The Teacher' series - sorry it's taken so long! My inspiration has been very Eris driven recently.
Part One - When I Kissed the Teacher
Part Two - When I Met The Devil
Part Three - When I Danced Under The Stars
The warmth of the sunlight drifting through the slightly ajar curtains wasn't the thing that woke you that morning.
No.
It was Azriel's strong arm flung over your side which awoke you, more like made you jump from your skin at the groggy half-asleep haze you'd awoken to. The bed you lay in was usually yours alone, and it had been an extremely long time since you had allowed anyone into that space, since you had allowed someone to hold you.
Azriel was shirtless, clad in a black pair of loose cotton pants and little else, he lay on his front with his wings tucked back, your bed wasn't made to accommodate the Illyrian wingspan, and you frowned softly when you realised just how uncomfortable he must have been.
As if they had sensed you, his shadows danced over his shoulders and down his arm, peppering your face in sweet kisses as they coiled over your cheeks, one of them slithered backward and you watched it with a soft smile as it hovered by his ear. A lazy smirk fell on his lips and his voice called to you, as rough and warm as whisky, "You're staring."
"I can't help it," he squeezed the skin beneath your clothed him, you were drowned in a sheer lilac nightgown, and Azriel shuffled your positions so that his wings go stretch out a little, pulling you into his side and curling his wing around you, "I'm sorry for the bed, I know it's not exactly the best size for your wings."
Azriel hummed, eyes still half-closed, sunlight streaking over the right side of his face, "It doesn't bother me," he craned his neck to peer down on you, his eyelids blinking slowly as they adjusted and began to wake, "It was perhaps the most peaceful sleep I've had for awhile."
Tracing small shapes on his taut and exposed chest, you asked, "Really?"
"Really," his calloused fingers entwined themselves in your own, and he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly, "How are you feeling?"
It was a question that you didn't really know how to answer, but you tried, "I'm okay. Part of me is still shaken up from seeing him, I think it'll take some time to believe that he's not going to do something to me. I just wasn't ready to remember it all so suddenly, I suppose."
Azriel had made it very clear that you needn't tell him about the details of your life before Velaris, not if you didn't want to, and if you never did, Azriel was also at peace with that. The past life you had lived did not define you, your home court and family name did not define you, what defined you was what shone through the cracks in the darkness, the kindness and unwavering loyalty and irrevocable devotion to his family.
"I understand," his shadows floated over you, almost embracing you themselves, and Azriel made no move to pull them away, "If you're reconsidering meeting with Lucien, if you're not ready, then you don't have to see him."
Shaking your head, you sighed, "No. It's been so long," you looked to him through your lashes and sent him a reassuring smile, "Lucien saved my life, and I never had to chance to really thank him before he threw me on that horse and sent me away."
There was no reality that existed where you would ever say no to reuniting with Lucien, the male who kept you sane and made you feel seen and heard, the only male in your life at that point who had refused to stand by and watch the torture unfold.
Azriel pressed his lips to your forehead, his fingers caressing the side of your face as he pulled you closer into his side, wrapping both of his arms around you and relishing in the contact of your warmth and light, "I'll go and get us breakfast," he mumbled into your hair, letting his lips trail downward until they caught yours in a quick but tender kiss, a fleeting thing that felt natural.
You whimpered as he pulled himself from the bed, flexing his wings and rolling his neck, to pop the stiffness from them. Gazing back at you, he smirked, leaning over the side of the bed and kissing you again, humming against your lips before pulling back slightly, "I could get used to this."
"What?" Your fingers trailed along the curve of his jaw and his eyes bore into yours.
"Waking up next to you," the tip of his nose sloped down your own and then he pulled away entirely, tugging a shirt over his chest that he must have gone to retrieve once he had put your sleeping body to bed the night before, "Have a bath, I'll be back soon."
The silence yearned for him to return, but you waited a few moments before rising, the warmth of the sun washed over you through the fully opened curtains which illuminated your entire room, a room that held the mingled scents of you and Azriel. It wrapped the space in an ethereal, untouchable shield of sorts.
Laughter echoed from beyond the window and you took minute to appreciate it all, the looming mountains that had kept you hidden from the moment you had stepped into Velaris from Hewn City, the gardens and fields that were littered in every space possible, birthing life and beauty, and you bowed to the notion that perhaps you were safe, that Velaris was your home and you belonged there.
Though, as you peered at your own garden, expecting to see the array of blush pink and lilac tulips swaying in the wind, you frowned as your eye caught something out of place. A single tulip with petals of burgundy. To anyone else it would represent love, to anyone else, it wouldn't mean anything at all.
But you were from Spring, and you knew flowers. In all of the time you spent locked up at that manor playing pet to Tamlin, you had learnt every meaning of every beautiful flower in existence, he knew that.
That's why the sight of those blood-red petals made your heart flutter. It was a warning, an angry warning of the wrath you would face. That flower wasn't what unsettled you though, it was the fact that it had been so delicately placed in the garden of your home, like he was taunting you, telling you that he knew where you were.
You wished you could have laughed it off like it was a silly thing of nothingness, you knew anyone else would. So, you gobbled it down and supressed that fleeting feeling telling you to run as far and as fats as your legs could carry you. Azriel would protect you.
Right?
It had taken buckets full of courage to leave the confinements of your home, half of you didn't want to step outside, the image of that lone red tulip swaying in a different direction than the rest playing on a constant in your mind.
But Lucien was waiting for you.
Rhys had arranged it, the meeting at the River House, a much more informal abode compared to that of the House of Wind. Calling it a meeting alone was too formal for you to handle, what would you call two friends reuniting after such a time apart? Not a meeting, that was for sure.
Exhaling shakily, you couldn't bring yourself to move from the foot of the path, the last time you had been there you had seen him, and you couldn't be completely sure he wouldn't be there waiting for you again.
Sensing your doubt, Azriel laced his fingers with yours, and offered a soft smile, one that you couldn't quite return, "We can leave," he told you, he had watched you get ready, he had watched you change your outfit seven times until you settled on a pale blue sun dress with puffy sleeves and a white lace corset moulded into the bodice.
He had told you that you looked beautiful and breath-taking, and you had merely muttered a small thank you before taking his outstretched hand. Azriel noticed your clammy palms, he didn't move away from you as your free hand clasped around his bicep, using him as a crutch.
"No. I'm okay. Just give me a second," you squeezed your eyes closed, taking a moment to steady your breath and work up the courage to enter the home and live the dream you had always drifted to, "Okay," you opened your eyes and glanced upward at him through your lashes, "I'm ready."
The path seemed to widen as you strode up the cobbled stone, the windows brightened at your approach, and you could faintly see, and hear, Lucien chatting away within the home. He hadn't changed one bit, a blessing really considering what Tamlin could have done to him if he had known that Lucien was the catalyst of your disappearance.
Faltering slightly, you stopped at the door, not knowing whether it was rude or not to just walk in, and Azriel let you decide what would be best. The door vibrated under your curled fist, three curt knocks sounded on the wood, and you took a step back and waited.
Velaris had been shrouded by the heatwave that had drifted up from the Summer Court, the walk to the house was full of visions of ladies fanning themselves and children swimming in the ponds and lakes within the city, ice cream vendors had set up on every corner, but you couldn't stomach a sweet treat, even if it would save you from the searing heat prickling at your skin.
Let's just say that you were glad you had opted for a dress that was lightweight.
The oak door opened to reveal Rhys, he grinned at you, clearly excited for what he was able to witness in that moment. Then, he glanced to Azriel who you saw nod from the corner of your eye, not caring at all about the silent conversation between them as your eyes delved further into the home, expecting to see your former fiancé lingering in the shadows.
"Come in," Rhys spoke, laying a comforting hand on your shoulder.
Azriel stepped forward first, knowing that if he didn't pull you inside that you may bolt from the situation altogether.
Laughter echoed from the next room, that deep joyous sound that you had yearned to hear for too long, "I'm glad to see you," Rhys towered over you, he always had, but you had never found it threatening, you had found it more loving than anything.
The skin around your fingernails was red and sore, you hadn't stopped picking at them all morning despite Azriel's genteel scolding, "He's in there?"
Humming, Rhys moved to your other side and placed a stoic hand on the small of your back, "He is. Would you like to see him?"
Part of you was terrified. What if he didn't recognise you? What if he didn't like what you had become?
The pit in your stomach swirled with tentative excitement but you nodded, a bit too eagerly, a hand resting on your stomach, "Please."
Rhys glanced to Azriel whose gaze hadn't moved from you, ready to whisk you away if you even muttered the desire, and when you looked to the Shadowsinger, with eyes wide and pleading, he moved forward first, concealing your figure behind his wings as he reached for the handle and pushed the door open.
Silence cut through the laughter, tension lingered in the air, and you knew that Azriel was staring Lucien down, and you knew from the sound of rustling leather that the former male had rose to his feet.
Azriel entered, his wings still stretched, wings that would stay that way until you were ready. Rhys squeezed your hand in his and rounded the curve of the wings of his brother, and then you appeared, gently grazing Azriel's hand that he had clasped behind his back; he craned his head over his shoulder and you nodded, and then he lowered them.
Lucien was exactly as you remembered him.
Tall and stoic, russet eyes and the scar that made you alike in more ways than one, the golden freckled skin and the long red hair that was braided over his shoulders. He looked older in a way, which was to be expected, his eyes were heavier, and you couldn't help but feel responsible for some of that.
A smile, a teasing but loving smile tugged on his lips, and you could have sworn you saw his eyes glisten, saw that glisten pool on his bottom lids, "Hello, you."
Voice like honey, smooth and sweet, and you couldn't stop the sob from escaping your lips as he crossed the room and bundled you into his arms. Crackling flames and cinnamon. It ached to smell him, to hold him as his fingers ran through your hair, "You haven't changed at all."
"Let me see you," he cradled your face in his hands, his eyes wandered your face, and a single tear fell down his cheek that you swept up with your thumb, "Look at you," he smiled and swallowed hard, "I'm so proud of you."
Emotion clawed at your face and you couldn't help but cry, it was relief and sadness, the worst part of leaving Spring was leaving him behind to tend to the wolf. Not a day had gone by where you hadn't thought of him.
The last time Lucien had seen you he wasn't sure if you'd make it. You were so frail, the fight within you had vanished, he hadn't seen you smile in months, you were broken and felt no desire to put yourself back together.
"Thank you," you strained, your throat bubbling with sobs, "I would have died there if it wasn't for you. I don't know how to begin thanking you."
Lucien shushed you, "You already have. Look at how far you've come y/n. It was all worth it, like we said, remember?"
How couldn't you remember?
"The wound is the place where the light enters you," you spoke the words in a whisper and Lucien watched your lips form the words he had spoken to you after one rather terrible night, on the night where you had been so close to breaking, so close to ending it all.
Lucien was the one who made you fight, he was the one who gave you hope and muttered words of worth into your ear. Grinning like a feline cat, Lucien finished the sentence for you, he spoke to you the words you used to utter in reply to him, "Light it up, y/n."
The words held a different meaning now, you weren't a broken girl anymore, you weren't the daughter of some Spring Lord or some fiancé to the High Lord himself. The words meant something else entirely, you had shone, you had shone in every place you had went after Spring, you had lit up the world, and you had done that because you had found the strength in your darkest of days to sprout from the earth and grow.
You knew that the room was watching you, but you didn't dare to let the embarrassment worm its way inside of you as you became aware of Elain and Feyre, and of Azriel and Rhys around you.
"Light it up, Lucien."
In that moment, you blissfully forgot about that foreboding message laid bare for you outside of your front door, you pushed it aside to feel the blanket of false safety wrap itself around you. The day turned to night, and you found yourself unmoving from the space between Lucien and Azriel, Nyx had crawled into your lap the moment he had seen you and kicked up a fuss in Nesta's arms.
How foolish of you to believe that you were allowed to be happy. How foolish of you to believe that the blood red shadow rooted deep into the earth of your home was nothing but a paranoid figment of your imagination.
Author's Note
Sorry again! I hope this was worth the wait x
Taglist
@fxckmiup @sh4nn @acourtofbatboydreams @lilah-asteria @iloveboba777 @lisanna2000 @brieflyclassymortal @thecraziestcrayon @mybestfriendmademe @acourtofmoonlightandstars @5onedirection5
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar imagine#maasverse#imagine#fanfiction#azriel x reader#rhysand#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#acotar azriel#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel x y/n#azriel x you#azriel fluff#acotar angst#tamlin#lucien vanserra#rhys acotar#rhys x reader#feyre archeron#feyre x rhysand#feyre cursebreaker#azriel fic
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out of the woods (chris evans x famous!reader smut)
the one where Chris watches an interview of you on the Ellen show
Warnings: mention of small stature in comparison to Chris, smut thoughts, Ellen Degeneres trash talking/thinking, cursing, mention of prescription medicine, talk of age gap (reader is younger than Chris), jacking off, daddy kink
WC: 3k
A/N: this doesn't really have an ending, so if you all like it, I might make a series out of it - the idea is that you are also famous (for acting, singing, writing) and have been friends with Chris but there's always this underlying tension between the two of you. It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: no, he's not married in this story nor do I intend to feature Alba in any part of it whatsoever.
Chris’ P.O.V.
I was scrolling through Twitter when I realized some fans were tagging me in a short video of Y/N on Ellen DeGeneres’ show. I knew she had gone there by herself, mostly to promote her new album, but also to give some publicity for our movie, so I was aware that she would probably talk about me at least a bit… Curiosity got the best of me and I clicked the link to check the video for myself.
She looked gorgeous as always, her hair down in that way I loved so much and her skin seemed to be as soft as ever under the mini dress she chose to wear, her legs stretching out and making her look taller than she actually was. I chuckled, remembering just how small she looked by my side.
I remembered one time when I lifted her up, bridal style, and spun her around the pub we had close to the set, after the Patriots had won a game. Despite not understanding the game, she tagged along and celebrated every time I got excited, like the cute person that she was. I got so transfixed by her giggles back then. They were the sweetest sound and the only thing I heard, despite the fact that we were in the middle of a very loud bunch of dudes.
I found myself imagining again, as I had then, what it would be like to have her under me, trapped by my arms in bed, or better yet, against a wall, only my thighs securing her in place while I made her moan with my touch. How would she sound? Or, better yet, how would she feel?
Christ.
Shaking my head, I tried to gather my thoughts so as to not let them stray too far in that direction, something I didn’t have much success in doing, despite the fact that I had been practicing that simple habit every single day since I met her. But it was proving to be a nightmare. She was just far too tempting.
Shaking my head once more, I focused on the video in front of me. My heartbeat had sped up as soon as it started, but I tried to tell myself it was because I was scared for her, since I knew how Ellen could get invasive sometimes.
“So, Y/N…” She started, eyeing my co-star. “You have just finished working on a movie with someone we’re very familiar with, isn’t it?”
Y/N giggled, nodding at the blonde woman. “I suppose so. We have just finished the promotion for it, maybe you guys have already seen it?” She asked the crowd, who went nuts at her. It was sweet to see this kind of feedback, I truly believed in our movie and the fact that I got to know her was just an added bonus.
“For those of you who don’t know what we’re talking about, it’s called ‘Be Here Now’ and it’s currently in a theater near you. Y/N stars alongside Chris Evans, who we love so dearly here, and they play brother and sister as they try to reconnect after their parents' passing.”
More applause at that. I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes at her idea of love. Last time I was there, she made me pretty uncomfortable, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
“So, how was the process for you? We know you’re familiar with the filming process, since you star in your own series ‘Evermore’, that sent you to stardom, along with your songs, but you had said before you’d never act outside of it, since your true passion relies on music. What changed your mind?” Ellen sat back as she said that, already comfortable with the fact that something good would come out of this interview, since Y/N had been pretty vocal about what made her decide to do the movie, even with me.
“Chris did, actually. Or, in fact, the fact that he was cast in it.” A chorus of “aws” echoed around the room and there was no way to know if they were real or prompted, but they were quickly interrupted by the host.
“So, you were a fan?” She instigated, as to what Y/N nodded again.
“Of course. Well, my mom more than me, but I was the one who introduced his work to her, so…” She poked her tongue out at the camera, to which my heart (and my cock) jumped in response. “Ever since I got into this, when I first had the idea for Evermore with James, I told him time and time again I would never act outside of this, because I had no intention whatsoever on becoming an actress. I have always been in this for the music. Well, the writing. I’m a writer, I like writing scripts and songs, I’ve fallen into this performer thing by accident. But I’ve always been adamant about the fact that if I ever had the opportunity to act alongside Chris, I’d take it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t think I’m good enough. It didn’t even matter if the script was terrible, which thankfully wasn’t the case, I just really admire him and his work and I would never live with myself if I turned this opportunity down.”
Even though I knew most of this, I couldn’t help but to gloat at the fact that this incredible woman actually admired me. She was so much better than me in so many things, even acting, and she still thought I was great enough to get her to participate in a movie.
“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a little crush, that’s right?” And there it was. The coup. Of course. That evil wench…
“That’s what you took out of everything I said? Jesus, Ellen, has anyone ever told you that you listen like a man?” Ouch. That one was perfect. Being the ambassador for females and lesbians everywhere, it couldn’t not hurt her, especially coming from someone as angelical, sweet and universally-loved as Y/N. I appreciated the quick second her smile faltered before it became plastered on her again.
“No, I haven’t heard that before… But tell me, have you met any of the other Marvel actors? I mean, granted, there are a lot of them now, but especially those who have worked closely with Chris?” Y/N shrugged at that.
“I have been friends with Elizabeth Olsen for a very long time, we’re very close, but other than that, no. I haven’t had the chance to properly meet, or rather, hang out with any of them.”
“Who’s first on your list?”
“Anthony Mackie,” Y/N promptly responded, getting a few laughs and claps from the audience.
“My, you had that answer ready” Ellen teased, to which Y/N simply shrugged again.
“We talk through social media sometimes and I know for a fact he’s hilarious. I hope we get to meet sometime. I might just have to bug Chris about it.” She had already, in fact. I couldn’t wait to introduce them to each other and I was already planning my next party just to be able to make that happen.
“What about Sebastian?” Ellen asked, a glinter of something extremely suspicious in her eyes.
“Sebastian Stan? No, we haven’t met, but I’d love to get the chance to someday. He seems extremely sweet and I know he’s very talented and Chris loves him, so I think it’s a matter of time until it happens.”
“I heard somewhere you had a bit of a crush on him, right? Even if you don’t admit that you have one on Chris?” This fucking woman. I could fucking kill her right now. But, to my surprise, Y/N simply laughed.
“Truly, you have got to check your hearing sometime soon, because that is absolutely false.”
“Really?” Ellen pushed, to which Y/N beamed even brighter at her.
“Positive.” A beat as the two women stared at each other down. “I think what you meant is that I have had a huge crush on his character, Bucky Barnes.” Y/N explained, laughing at the host. “I admit that only happened after I saw Sebastian’s portrayal of him, but my attraction to a fictional character can’t be really connected to him.”
Ellen nodded, obviously not paying attention to anything she was just saying. “Well, let’s figure out who do you actually feel attracted to, shall we? Let’s play fuck, marry or kill!”
The audience screamed and, to my surprise, Y/N didn’t even blink, a patient smile painting her lips as she calmly watched the interviewer. “So, Y/N, between Anthony, Sebastian and Chris, who would you rather fuck, marry or kill?”
Y/N shook her head, still smiling at the older woman. “I couldn’t possibly answer truthfully to this question, Ellen, mostly because I am not capable of feeling carnal attraction to people I have never met, but I can 100% assure you that I would marry Chris without blinking twice if there was a choice.”
My heart skipped a beat at her words. The crowd went crazy, obviously satisfied with the answer.
“And you’re sure you don’t have a crush on him?” Ellen’s eyes glistened with mischief, as she stared at the younger woman.
“Ellen, I think the question here is… Are you sure *you don’t have a crush on him?” The laughs from the audience was the last thing to come from the video before it stopped, and I found myself echoing them in the silent living room. Oh my, how I missed this girl.
I tapped my fingers nervously on my jean-clad thigh, looking around the room. I had been staying in Boston with my family for the last few weeks, since the movie premiered and we had finished promotion, and I had found myself constantly calling her to share funny stories from my nephews or to hear about her day. I knew she wanted to meet my family, she had always said she admired the fact that we were so close, despite there being so many of us.
My mom obviously loved her, having been a fan of hers long before I even heard about her existence. So what if…?
Before I could second-guess myself, I pressed call in the name of the woman I had been thinking about. The phone rang three times before she picked up, stopping me from giving up on this crazy idea.
“Hey, Chris! How are you? I missed talking to you, it’s so weird seeing you everyday for four months and then suddenly not at all anymore.” I know I was literally forty, but I literally melted at this girl’s words.
“Did you now? Is that because you wish we were married, so we could see each other everyday?” Her breath hitched as she realized I had seen the video and I could just imagine the cute little embarrassed expression she was probably sporting right now. I tried to ignore the fact that my words and tone of speaking had suddenly become way too similar to when I was flirting with a girl.
“Fuck, you saw the interview.” I had never heard Y/N curse before, so the fact that I suddenly had no control over my mouth could be explained by the unavailability of blood in my head, since it had all gone south.
“Come stay with me for a while,” I spilled suddenly. Silence was the only answer I got from the other side of the call and my heart sped up in a way that only happened when I was truly anxious. I was already cursing myself out for scaring the poor girl when she finally answered.
“Are you serious?” She asked, her voice barely over a whisper. It was obvious how vulnerable she was feeling, and a sense of overprotectiveness overcame me. “Please don’t joke about this, Evans. This better not be a prank. ‘Cause I really do miss you a lot.”
Fuck indeed. There was no way something good would come out of this idea, but there was no way I would go back either.
“Of course I’m being serious. Come to Boston. You can stay with me, but I think my mom is going to steal you before you even settle in.” A large breath came from the other side.
“Okay. Okay! I’m going to pack my bags. Yay! I’m so excited!” She was clearly jumping up and down with the perspective of what was to come, and I couldn’t help the smile that painted my lips not only at her cuteness, but also due to my own excitement at her arrival.
“Great! I’ll be waiting.” My heartbeat still hadn’t gotten back to a normal speed. “Text me the details of your arrival, I’ll pick you up at the airport.”
“Chris, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…” I knew what she meant. If someone caught sight of us together at the airport, or even the fact that she was here in Boston, all hell would break loose in the press.
“Shhh, don’t worry about it, baby girl. I’ll take care of it.” I froze, only then realizing what I had just called her. A few seconds ticked by while I silently freaked out, wondering how I could brush this over, when she intervened.
“Thanks, Chris. That was pretty much the best thing I’ve ever heard. I just might forgo my prescription medicine while I’m over there, because you’ve been able to completely relax me with just two sentences.” She giggled and if I was at first leaning towards thinking she was sarcastically teasing me, just by the nature of her words, the tone of her voice made it clear that she actually meant what she had just said.
Once again, I was at a loss for words, especially because I couldn’t help but to allow myself to imagine that this was her, flirting with me a little bit. The blood I so desperately needed in my brain had once again left to pump another organ full of life. I was saved from having to answer, though, as Y/N quickly wrapped up the conversation.
“I’ll text you the details of my flight in a little bit. See you soon, angel.” She hung up before I could process the nickname she had given me.
“Fucking hell,” I whispered, finally relenting and getting up from the couch to take a shower to rub one off.
I had found myself in this situation more times than usual after meeting Y/N. Normally, I’d only do it out of boredom, preferring to fuck someone whenever I’d get sexually frustrated. But the last few times I had taken girls from parties into my bedroom, I could only see her. Y/N. And I hated how disgusting I felt after it was done, the fact that I didn’t care about the girl I just fucked and the fact that I imagined my younger friend.
So now I resorted to this kind of activity. As the warm water started to hit my body, I allowed my right hand to travel the extent of my body until I found my hardened member. “Fuck,” I found myself whispering into the bathroom as I tugged on my cock. Images that I had spent a lot of time concocting in my head flashed in front of me, all of them starred by Y/N.
I imagined her nude body here with me, under the falling water. How her breasts would heave with every breath she took. Would she be as filled with desire for me as I was for her? I imagined the path the warm droplets of water would run across her skin and how I wished I could lick its remnants.
Maybe she’d fall to her knees before me, looking up from under her eyelashes with that coy expression that drove me crazy. Her lips would softly kiss the tip of my cock and she’d still be watching me, analyzing my reactions. I would do my best to restrain myself, allowing her to get accustomed to my member, but my hands would eventually find their way to her wet strands, creating a makeshift ponytail that would facilitate my vision of her work while I still managed to control myself and not use it to guide her.
She’d kiss the skin all around my cock, quick little kisses just to tease me before going further down to suck on my balls. I’d throw my head back, begging her to do what I needed, and she’d finally succumb, wrapping her lips around my tip before slowly sucking further down my dick. She’d be relentless, eventually being able to swallow my whole member down her throat, and I would look down again to see her looking up at me with a proud gaze in her eyes.
“Such a good girl,” I would whisper, just before I finally snapped, using my grip on her hair to pull her from my cock until just the tip remained tightly squeezed by her lips, until I pushed her all the way against me again. “Take this fucking cock like the little perfect girl you are for daddy.”
And she’d take it like a pro, a satisfied smile on her lips as I fucked her mouth, eventually breaching into her throat, making her gasp for air, tears in her eyes as her hands flew to my hips in an attempt to slow me down. But she wouldn’t really, opting for simply carving her nails on my flesh as she took every single rope of cum I’d deposit between her eager lips.
Fuck. I let the water wash away the sin I had just committed while sending up a prayer for better control when Y/N arrived. The last thing I needed was to be stuck in the bathroom, touching myself while she was at my house.
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EX (G)-IRLFRIEND
SOOJIN X MALE READER
Tags : EX GF Soojin, A bit of Angst, Happy Ending, Some Smut?
The familiar jingle of (G)I-DLE's "LATATA" pulled Y/n's head from his laptop screen. It wasn't the song itself that startled him, but the woman standing at the coffee shop door, a sheepish grin plastered on her face. It was Soojin.
Memories flooded back, bittersweet and potent - late-night talks after rehearsals, shared secrets whispered under the covers, the warmth of her hand in his. Soojin, the sunshine to his brooding storms, the one who understood his quiet moments as well as his bursts of laughter. It had all ended so abruptly, ripped apart by accusations and scandal. Soojin, the girl he knew to be the softest soul, was branded a bully by the media.
He refused to believe it. He tried reaching out, offering support, but she'd pushed him away, a fortress of hurt and betrayal. In the end, the strain became too much, the silence deafening. They had to call it quits, the weight of the unresolved mess hanging heavy between them.
Soojin navigated the crowded café, her once fiery red hair now a calming dark brown. Her eyes held a vulnerability he hadn't seen before, a stark contrast to the fearless idol he once knew.
"Y/n?" she tentatively asked, her voice husky with nervousness.
He stood up, caught between a flood of emotions. "S-soojin."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken questions and buried feelings. Soojin took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance. "I know this is sudden, but...can we talk?"
He couldn't say no. He ushered her to an empty table, his heart hammering a chaotic rhythm against his ribs.
"This feels surreal," she confessed, fiddling with a stray strand of hair. "Seeing you again after all this time…"
"It does," he agreed, his voice raspy. "What... what brings you here?"
Soojin took a deep breath, her gaze flickering away for a moment. "Everything you heard… about me… it was a lie."
The words hit him like a physical blow. Years of suppressed doubt and anger flared up. "A lie?"
"A carefully orchestrated one," she continued, her voice gaining strength. "The company, the girls… they fabricated the whole bullying story."
His mind reeled. All this time, the person he knew was the victim?
"W-why?" he whispered, anger bubbling beneath the surface.
"They wanted a scapegoat," Soojin explained, her eyes brimming with hurt. "Someone to take the fall for their mismanagement. They promised they'd back me up, but…" she trailed off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.
He wanted to believe her. The Soojin he knew wouldn't bully anyone. But after years of hurt, a part of him needed more. "How can I know you're telling the truth?"
Her eyes welled up. "Because the only person I told the truth to was you." She reached across the table, her hand trembling slightly as it hovered over his. "Y/n, please. Believe me."
The touch, a ghost of their past, sent a jolt through him. Looking into her tear-filled eyes, a familiar ache bloomed in his chest. Doubt still lingered, but so did a flicker of the old trust.
He sighed, squeezing her hand gently. "Alright, Soojin. Tell me everything."
For the next hour, Soojin poured out her story. The manipulation by the company, the betrayal by her supposed friends, the public humiliation – it was a narrative of shattered dreams and broken trust. Y/n listened intently, anger building in his gut alongside a deep empathy.
As she spoke, the room seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, their past resurfacing like a forgotten melody. The café's bustling sounds muted, replaced by the tremor in her voice and the raw honesty in her eyes.
When she finished, a heavy silence settled between them. The weight of the years, the unspoken words, all hung in the air. Soojin looked down at their intertwined hands, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.
"I miss you, Y/n," she confessed in a soft voice.
His heart lurched. Did she mean it? All these years, had she felt the same way?
Before he could respond, she leaned forward, her lips meeting his in a hesitant kiss. It was a touch of apology and yearning, a plea for a connection that wasn't severed. Hesitation lingered in Y/n, but the nostalgia in her touch, the familiar warmth of her kiss, proved too much to resist.
He deepened the kiss, his hand finding its way to her hair, the dark strands smooth against his touch. It was a desperate kiss, fueled by years of yearning and a newfound understanding. The kiss burned with an intensity that surprised them both. Years of pent-up emotions, hurt, and longing exploded in that single touch. Soojin pulled away first, breathless and cheeks flushed.
"Y/n," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I know this is crazy after all this time…"
"No," he murmured, his own voice thick with desire. "It doesn't feel crazy."
There, in the dimly lit café, surrounded by the aroma of brewing coffee and bustling patrons, their past and present collided. Soojin's hand snaked up his arm, sending shivers down his spine.
"Can we go somewhere... more private?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He barely needed to think. Without a word, he paid for their lukewarm coffees, ignoring the cashier's curious stare. As they stepped out into the cool evening air, Soojin slipped her hand into his, a tentative gesture that spoke volumes.
They didn't speak, not initially. They walked hand-in-hand, the silence a comfortable shroud around their rekindled connection. Soojin led him to a secluded alleyway, its entrance masked by overflowing vines.
The dim moonlight filtered through, casting long shadows on the brick walls. In this hidden space, Soojin turned to him, her eyes searching his face.
"I know…" she started, her voice husky. "This might be a mistake, but I…"
He silenced her with a finger to her lips, his touch sending a jolt through her. "I get it," he said, his gaze locked on hers. "We can take things slow. But…"
He trailed off, leaning closer. The scent of her familiar perfume, a mix of lavender and vanilla, filled his senses. "Right now," he whispered, his voice husky, "all I can think about is holding you again."
With that, he pulled her into a tight embrace. Relief, desire, and a bittersweet nostalgia swirled within him as he held her close. Soojin melted into his arms, clinging to him like a lifeline.
The kiss this time was different. It was fierce, filled with a raw hunger that spoke of years of unspoken feelings. Their hands explored each other's bodies with a desperate need, reacquainting themselves with the familiar curves and textures.
Soojin reached for the buttons on his shirt, her touch sending shivers down his spine. Unbidden, memories of their passionate nights flooded back – stolen moments in her dorm room, late-night adventures, and the feeling of belonging he'd felt wrapped in her arms.
He helped her out of her light jacket, his fingertips lingering on her exposed skin. As she unbuttoned his shirt, the air crackled with unspoken desires. They stumbled backward, landing against the rough brick wall.
Her touch was like a wildfire on his skin. She explored his chest, her whispers sending shivers down his spine. It was a desperate dance, a frantic rediscovery of a connection they both thought lost.
The alleyway became their sanctuary, a space where time seemed to stand still. They explored each other with an urgency born from years of separation, each touch a whisper of the past and a promise of a future they weren't sure existed.
As dawn painted the cityscape a pale pink, they lay breathless in each other's arms, the warmth of their bodies a stark contrast to the cool night air. Soojin nuzzled closer, a contented sigh escaping her lips.
"This feels like coming home," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.
Y/n held her tighter, the weight of the unresolved past momentarily forgotten. He didn't know what the future held, whether this was just a fleeting moment of comfort or the spark of something more. But in the quiet embrace of the new day, all he knew was that he wanted to hold onto this newfound connection, even if it was only temporary.
#soojin#gidle soojin#kpop#kpop x reader#kpop x y/n#x male reader#beautiful#sexy content#apreciation post#update#kpop smut#angst#happy ending#kpop fluff#cuddles
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When We Howl, the Moon Will Cower: Chapter 3
A/N: when I heard that today's @nestaarcheronweek prompt was wolf, I just knew I had to do some more werewolf Cassian 😉 Sorry this update has been a long time coming, but I promise this chapter is a good one! Hope everyone enjoys!
Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part
Nesta
Nesta supposes she shouldn’t be surprised when she wakes alone.
She certainly didn’t expect to wake within some sort of lover’s embrace. It was clear last night that her and Cassian’s marriage was nothing more than duty, he to his pack and she to her family. But still…
With a soft sigh, she shifts and rolls over beneath the blankets, reaching a hand out and finding nothing but cold sheets. Early riser or didn’t even bother to stay the night? With another huff she sits up, rubbing the final remnants of sleep from her eyes. The room and the cabin doesn’t look much different in the light of day. The rays of sunlight spill in through the windows, painting patterns across the blankets and turning the wood beams of the ceiling into amber.
It could almost be described as homey if it weren’t for the frigid, cloying air still clinging to the room from the previous night.
Pushing the blankets off her legs, Nesta climbs off the bed. She starts to pad over to her trunks before a thought strikes her, her eyes dancing toward the bedroom door. Cassian made it clear last night that he doesn’t trust her, so does that mean he would lock her in? Keep his new wife locked away in the tower?
She steels her spine and stalks toward the door, hesitating for just a moment with her hand outstretched in front of her. Slowly, her fingers curl around the knob, but thankfully, there’s no resistance as she twists. Unlocked. Small consolations.
Shaking her head, Nesta spins on her heel and returns to preparing for the day. With running hot water and no one around, she dares to take another long bath. Loathe she is to admit it, there’s a lingering ache between her thighs, a delicious soreness to her muscles as she stretches out beneath the water. She tips her head back against the lip of the tub and closes her eyes, breathing deeply.
As much as she’d like to, Nesta knows she can’t hide in the warmth and safety of a bath all day. This is her life now, Archeron or not. This is her life here. She’s married to the alpha, a member of this pack even if they don’t fully trust or accept her. A witch amongst wolves.
Heaving herself out of the bath, Nesta finishes readying for the day and steps out of the bedroom. The rest of the cabin is just as quiet, but she pads her way into the kitchen. It takes some rooting around in the cupboards, but she’s able to find everything she needs to prepare a cup of tea, the strong taste and warmth of the drink at least helping to soothe some of the knots twisting around in her stomach.
It’s only when she settles at the small, wooden kitchen table that she notices the letter, her name scrawled across the page in familiar, crisp cursive. She snatches it up, flipping it over quickly. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised to find the wax seal already broken, but annoyance flares like low burning embers in her chest nonetheless. She opens the letter and skims through her mother’s words. It’s all polite and basic, reporting on her sisters, inquiring if she’s settled, but she notices the ink pressed into the right, bottom corner.
A crow.
Nesta pushes to her feet and finds a candle, placing it on the kitchen table and lighting it. She holds the letter over the flickering flame until the ink swirls, bleeding to the edge of the paper and melting away into nothing. She closes her eyes and says the incantation quietly beneath her breath before blowing across the page, revealing the ink and message hidden beneath.
A meeting.
It’s a meeting request that Nesta is sure was also sent to both of her sisters. No new husbands though, a meeting of just the Archeron ladies. Cassian is already suspicious of her, so she’ll have to figure out an excuse that will allow her to attend. A problem for her to work out later. For now, Nesta holds the letter over the candle again, this time until the corner of the parchment catches, the entire letter going up in flames.
She returns to her tea, the cup almost drained when the front door of the cabin swings open, Cassian striding inside. He’s dressed in surprisingly casual attire, a loose shirt tucked into his pants, the sleeves rolled up to expose the lines of tattoo and golden skin of his forearms. His hair is pulled back and piled into a bun at the back of his head.
“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Cassian says in way of greeting. He gestures with his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
Nesta crosses her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow and refusing to move. “I did sleep well. Thanks so much for asking.”
“You want to do fucking pleasantries?” Cassian scoffs, shaking his head.
“Oh, but dear husband, how did you sleep?” Nesta asks, offering a saccharine smile. The sight of Cassian’s lips pulling back in a snarl has it building into a full blown smirk.
“Do you want to see the village or not?”
“I’m surprised you’d allow a witch such free range around your pack.”
“If you’d prefer, we can stay here and continue our marital duties,” Cassian offers, his tone derisive, the golds of his hazel eyes practically sparking with the challenge.
Nesta’s smile drops away. “Fuck you.”
“Are you sore this morning, sweetheart? I’d be willing to bet that was the first time a prim princess like you has taken a real cock.”
“You wish,” Nesta growls, finally pushing to her feet just so she can glower at Cassian.
She wants to hate the way he doesn’t balk from her ire, the way his smirk almost seems to twitch and grow at her response. The way the golds of his hazel eyes practically spark at the challenge. The sight has Nesta’s scowl deepening, her mind grasping for a way to wipe that stupid expression off his face. Perhaps, she’ll threaten to curse him with impotence.
“Going to curse me, sweetheart?” Cassian drawls, raising an eyebrow and all but daring her.
Nesta refuses to let the surprise at him reading her so easily show. “You’re not even worth the waste of magic.”
Cassian snorts quietly, gesturing with his head again. “Are you coming or not?”
With a quiet huff, Nesta takes a moment to straighten out the skirts of her dress, striding right past Cassian and out the door. The village certainly looks different beneath the sun, and from this vantage point atop the hill, Nesta can see the various members of the pack milling about. There’s a group of women, baskets full of vegetables on their arms, a group of young men unloading crates from a wagon, and children running around. There’s even a few members of the pack moving about in their wolf forms.
Cassian leads the way down into the heart of the village, pointing out different places for her as they walk. The hall where the pack council meetings are held. The market square. The butcher and the bakery.
It’s almost strange the way everyone is so friendly and open with Cassian, smiling and greeting him as he passes, the way he gives the same energy back. It’s clear that he’s a beloved alpha, clear that he cares just as much for his people. It makes it all the more awkward the way everyone eyes her suspiciously, whispers of witchcraft swirling in her periphery.
They come to a stop in some sort of clearing between the trees. Circles are carved into the ground, creating three rings, and Nesta spies who she remembers are Cassian’s second and third sparring in one of them. Wooden dummies are set up along the other end of the clearing, wooden and steel weapons beside them. A group of young boys and girls alike run through a series of maneuvers, a woman with pure white braids along her back leading them through the steps.
Cassian whistles, and his second and third both snap their attention toward them, practically pausing mid swing. The woman gives the man one final shove, as though for good measure, before they’re jogging over. On instinct, Nesta’s spine is straightening, chin pinching higher in preparation.
“Nesta,” Cassian begins. “This is my second, Emerie, and my third, Balthazar.”
“My friends call me Baz,” Balthazar tells her easily, placing a hand on his heart.
“You can call him Balthazar,” Cassian says gruffly. Nesta scoffs and rolls her eyes, but neither Emerie or Balthazar seem to disagree with the order. “And over there is Cresseida. You’ll begin training with her each morning starting tomorrow.”
Nesta doesn’t bother holding back her glare, anger already simmering beneath her skin. “Excuse me?”
“My wife needs to be able to defend herself.”
“What makes you think I don’t know how to defend myself? What do you think I was taught growing up?”
Cassian steps closer into Nesta’s space, the sneer on his face sending her annoyance skyrocketing. “I don’t think you want me to answer that, princess.”
Nesta raises her chin higher to hold his gaze. “Fine. You want me to prove it? I’m more than happy to step in the ring right now.”
“I’m sure we can find a beginner opponent that will be willing for your little demonstration.”
“And miss the opportunity to knock you on your sorry ass?”
Cassian laughs, the sound nothing short of mocking, but he gestures toward the training rings with his arm. “Fine then. After you, Nes.”
Nesta scowls at the nickname, but she stalks forward into one of the three rings. Cassian follows behind her, stepping over the line at the opposite end. They’ve already drawn the attention of the group training, and Nesta is sure that word will quickly blaze through the rest of the village. The witch challenging the alpha.
She’s sure there will be more sneers, more whispers and snide remarks. She’s sure that if her mother could see her now, she’d call Nesta foolish, chide her for letting her emotions get the better of her. But Nesta swore to herself a long time ago that she would never be weak again, and she refuses to let Cassian or his pack see her as such. Alpha or not, marriage sham or not, she intends to meet that fire she’s seen sparking in his eyes head on. Intends to burn just as bright until she wipes that cocksure smile clean off his face.
“I’ve got Cassian in this,” Balthazar murmurs.
“Oh, I’m definitely taking Nesta,” Emerie answers.
Nesta closes her eyes, letting the village, the pack, Cassian, all fade away. She centers herself the way she always has, sinking beneath the rippling waves of her well of power. Even the birdsong around her dampens to nothing, warmth trickling through her veins and pooling in her fingertips. She opens her eyes, allowing the power to swell to the surface, knowing it’s now flickering within her gaze.
Cassian’s own eyes widen, his movements pausing, but he’s quick to shake his head and set his stance, mouth pinched in a firm line. The beast within Nesta gives a low growl of approval. She can feel it pressing down onto its haunches, desperate to be released, and she dares to turn the key in the lock, keeping the cage firmly closed. For now. She widens her feet and raises her fists in a defensive positioning, raising a single eyebrow in challenge to the male across from her.
He moves faster than she expects, Cassian all but charging toward her. His arm swings out, but Nesta is quick to duck beneath the arching punch. It seems to be the exact response Cassian was expecting, what he was hoping for. The palm of his other hand slams into her collarbone, the force enough to throw off her balance and send her toppling onto her ass with a soft grunt.
Cassian lets out a derisive snort above her, but Nesta glares up at him, jumping back up to her feet. She loosens that leash on her magic, feels the familiar heat of flames twisting and wreathing around her wrist. She drives her hand against Cassian’s chest, releasing all that magic through her fingers. The alpha goes careening back, landing hard in the dirt sprawled on his back.
Cassian sits up, spitting to the side and wiping his now split lip with his hand. “Using magic is cheating.”
“Because war is all about rules and fighting fair,” Nesta drawls sarcastically.
“Touche,” Cassian comments idly, pushing back to his feet. “We can play it like that, sweetheart.”
It’s like watching the whole thing in slow motion. The way that Cassian’s muscles seem to ripple and bulge. The way fur sprouts and cascades down his skin. The way magic practically shimmers around him as he shifts. One blink and a large world stands before Nesta’s eyes. His fur is a dark brown, lighter along the chest and down the belly and a black that seems to match Cassian’s hair around the face and ears. But there’s no mistaking the golden glow of his eyes, pinning Nesta firmly in place.
Cassian snarls, the sound low and viscous. It’s Nesta’s only warning before he leaps and closes the distance between them. Nesta doesn’t have time to react, to move out of the way or call forth her power again. Pain radiates down her spine as her back hits the dirt, large paws pinning her shoulders down. Cassian’s canines are dangerously close to her face, hot breath panting across her cheeks, but Nesta doesn’t look away from those golden eyes.
He doesn’t scare her.
A calm washes over Nesta, but that beast within her tugs at the leash, practically chomping at the bit. Just as she’s always done, she imagines slipping fingers through fur, even as she finally opens that cage door. With a deep breath in, power fills her chest, expands between each rib and twines around her lungs. She pictures curling her fingers and grasping the beast’s fur.
Giving permission.
Flames burst out of Nesta in a cascade of silver, crashing around her. With a surprised yelp, Cassian goes flying through the air as those flames curl around his limbs. The force of her power sends him all the way outside of the training ring, skittering and sliding through the grass beyond before his wolf form finally comes to a stop.
“Holy shit.”
~ * * * ~
Cassian
With a grunt, Cassian tosses the large stone out across the water, watching the ripples as it bounces once, twice, before vanishing beneath the surface. His arm is sore with the effort, but it’s a welcome feeling. One that he can control. His entire body still aches, and he doesn’t even dare to look to check for the bruises he’s sure are mottling his skin.
He’d known the Archerons were powerful, everyone knew that, but to witness it in action had been something else entirely. That power had rippled around him, pressing and scraping along his skin until every hair had stood on end. For a moment, his heart had stuttered to a painful stop in his chest. With the silver flames burning and engulfing her eyes, Cassian hadn’t even been sure it was truly Nesta staring back at him. And then all that magic crashed into him with an almost sickening crunch. It threw him hard and far enough that had he been in his human form, Cassian is confident his shoulder would have shattered with the force of his landing.
Huffing quietly, Cassian reaches down, sifting through the rocks at his feet until he finds another flat one. He tosses it gently in his hand, testing the weight of it, allowing the familiarity of it to center him. This deep in the woods, none of the sounds of the pack or the village reach him. It’s just the small, gentle waves lapping along the shore, a birdsong further in the forest, and the wind whispering through the branches and leaves.
“Have you finished sulking yet?”
Cassian throws the rock in his hand hard enough it merely plops beneath the water. “Fuck off.”
“I couldn’t help but notice that Nesta doesn’t have mating marks this morning,” Emerie comments. Her tone is idle, but Cassian doesn’t buy it for a second.
“She’s my wife, not my mate.”
“Is that so?”
Cassian knows what that sarcastic drawl means. He whirls around on his second, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. “Don’t.”
“Just like your father then.”
“I said don’t.”
Emerie rolls her eyes at his clipped voice, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Do you plan on taking other females to your marriage bed as well, then? Plan to have a whole brood of little bastards just like yourself.”
With a snarl, Cassian closes the distance between himself and Emerie until he’s looming over the female. “Don’t make me relieve you of your post.”
She doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t step back. That same unimpressed look is painted across her face, exasperation spilling through her brown eyes as she continues to meet his gaze.
“You and I both know you made me your second because of this,” Emerie reminds him, shoving hard at his chest until he steps back. “Because I call you out on your bullshit. Did you forget there’s a war coming? Hybern may be quiet for now, but we both know too quiet is worse. Especially now that he has the Cauldron. Our pack is strong, but we’re not that strong. What happens when your wife, when her family, abandons you? Abandons us? Because you had a stick up your ass?”
“And what would you have me do?”
“Stop being a dick to your wife,” Emerie tells him, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If you respect her, the rest of the pack will respect her.”
Cassian sighs, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’ll try, alright?”
“I guess that’s the most I can ask for from an idiot male such as yourself.”
Emerie leaves Cassian alone with his thoughts after that, trekking back through the trees and toward the village. He stares out across the water of the lake, letting out another sigh. He hates that Emerie is right. The whole reason he agreed to this alliance, why he went through with this marriage, is for the pack. Loathe as he is to admit it, they will need Nesta and the Archerons if they want to stand any sort of chance against Hybern, no matter his own thoughts or feelings or opinions.
Besides, it’s not like they have to love one another, they just have to be amicable with each other.
Cassian groans, tilting his head back and scrubbing his hands down his face. Rolling his shoulders, he heads back toward the village. He stops in at the blacksmith, chatting easily with Elis while he works the flames and testing the weight and balance of the newest swords. He hits the bakery next, selecting some fresh goods to take back to the cabin. But as he steps back out, he catches the eye of Cresseida at the shop across the way. She’s wearing the same unimpressed expression that her wife did, and Cassian can practically hear Emerie’s voice in his head, chastising him for stalling.
He flashes Cresseida the finger, earning a fond shake of the head in return, but he gets the message. He trudges the rest of the way back to his cabin, taking the stairs slower than he normally would, but there’s no delaying the inevitable.
He pushes the door open and finds Nesta sitting on the sofa in front of the fire. She has a book open and propped on her knees, one he has no idea where she got it from. She doesn’t even bother to look up or acknowledge him, pointedly turning a page, so with a soft sigh, Cassian turns his attention to the kitchen. He starts pulling out ingredients, lining the counter with everything he’ll need, and grabs a pan.
“Have you eaten?” Cassian calls out, sparking a flame.
The sound of a book snapping shut lets Cassian know he heard her. “Are you intending to cook for me?”
“I promise not to poison it and everything, sweetheart.”
“How generous.”
It’s with a familiar ease that Cassian begins chopping up everything he needs, adding everything to the pan to saute. He mixes up the spices and prepares the sauce just as his mother used to when he was growing up, the smells swirling and filling the kitchen tugging at his memory as much as they tug at his heart.
He feels more than he hears Nesta step into the kitchen. Even with his back to her, his every nerve ending prickles with awareness of exactly where in the room she is, always zeroing in on her presence. The tickle of her breath skates across the skin of his neck as she stands just behind him, pressing up onto her toes to peer over his shoulder.
“Don’t trust my promise?”
Nesta huffs quietly, taking a step back from him. “I want to see my sisters.”
Cassian hums, so she knows he heard her, but he continues to prepare their food. He gives it all a good stir, scooping some onto the wooden spoon and holding it out toward Nesta in offering. She hesitates for a moment, gaze dancing between the spoon and his face, but then she slowly leans forward, accepting the taste.
“I want to see my sisters,” Nesta repeats, crossing her arms. “I want to make sure they’re alright.”
“Is it the vampires or the Vanserras that you don’t trust?” Cassian asks, plating up their food. “Or is it both?”
“It’s not about trust. You agreed to this marriage because you knew it was the only way to keep your pack safe from Hybern. I did it for my sisters, to ensure that Elain and Feyre would be safe. So I want to see them. My mother wrote a letter, and she will arrange it all. I just need a carriage.”
“Fine.”
Nesta blinks a few times, reaching out to accept the plate Cassian extends toward her. “Fine?”
“But either Emerie or Baz will accompany you. You can choose which.”
“Did you hit your head when I knocked you on your ass or something?”
“You wish,” Cassian tells her, settling at the table with his own plate. “You said so yourself, we need each other if we want to stand any chance against what’s coming. But I can assure you, sweetheart, I won’t let you get another chance like that again.”
Nesta hums noncommittally, but she settles in the seat across from him nonetheless. Cassian doesn’t miss the fact that she waits until he’s fully taken a bite of his own food before digging into her own. He doesn’t take it too personally.
They eat in relative silence, just the quiet clink and scrape of utensils. When they’re finished, Nesta snatches up her book again and retires to the bedroom. Cassian continues to putter around the cabin, sorting through the papers on the desk in his study, studying the information and intel about Hybern his wolves have been able to discover, scrutinizing the map and the markings on it.
But as clouds continue to move across the sky, masking the silver glow of the moon, as shadows continue to stretch across the floors of the cabin, exhaustion begins to tug at Cassian’s limbs. He knows that, realistically, he should retreat to the extra bedroom in the cabin, the one he always keeps made up in case one of the younger wolves needs a place to crash. But that voice in the back of his mind continues to whisper, continues to prickle and scrape for his attention. His nerve endings still feel on high alert, all too aware of the witch between these four walls.
Emerie just told him to stop being a dick to his wife. She never said anything about needing to trust her.
Cassian doesn’t even bother knocking, strolling straight into the bedroom. Nesta is already settled beneath the blankets, pillow propped at her back and that same book still in her hands. She glares over the pages at Cassian, making an affronted sound when he closes the door behind him.
“What are you doing?” Nesta demands with an annoyed huff. “There’s no magic dictating us anymore. Don’t you have another bedroom you can stay in?”
“Did you forget that you’re in my bedroom?” Cassian fires back.
He can feel Nesta’s glare sinking into his shoulder blades like knives as he turns his back on her. Can practically hear the way she’s seething. But she doesn’t say anything back, and Cassian refuses to be bothered. He fists a hand in the back of his shirt, tugging it up and off and tossing it aside. He continues stripping down until he’s comfortable to sleep, pulling the tie from his hair until his curls tumble comfortably around his face and shoulders.
When he turns back toward the bed, Nesta’s eyes are glued to his chest. Already, Cassian can feel a smirk tug across his face, a teasing comment on the tip of his tongue, but then he takes in Nesta’s expression. The slightly hollowed look to her blue eyes, the pinched brow and downturned lips. He looks down at his own chest, and barely holds in a wince at the sight. Purple and red patches are mottled across his skin, stretching up over his ribs.
“Is that regret I see on your face, Nes?”
That all too familiar scowl is back in a second. “Not if you keep calling me that.”
“Do I need to sleep with one eye open?” Cassian asks, stepping over to the bed and slipping beneath the blankets.
“Just fuck off, and go to sleep.”
Nesta rolls over and places her book on the small, side table, extinguishing the lantern and casting the bedroom in darkness. Cassian snorts softly at the dismissal, but he settles back against the mattress. He closes his eyes and wills his body to relax, but Nesta shifts, clearly getting more comfortable, and he’s painfully aware of her presence beside him.
She hasn’t been here long, but already her scent has permeated the cabin, and with her so close again, vanilla and lilies flood Cassian’s nose. He can feel the warmth of her, and when she shifts again, her foot brushes against his leg. He dares to turn his head to the side, toward her. Nesta has her back to him, but the blankets still cling to her every curve, rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. Her hair is fanned out across the pillow behind her, the strands practically glistening under the moonlight spilling through the window.
Cassian can still remember the way those strands of golden brown hair felt twisted between his fingers. He can still remember her body pressed against his, the sweet sounds of her moans echoing in his ears. He can still remember the tight heat wrapped around his cock. He squeezes his eyes shut against the onslaught of memories, suddenly feeling like a livewire. It would be too easy to turn to her fully, to press his body against hers. To latch his lips to the skin of her neck. To slide his hand across her waist, down her stomach, lower still.
Nesta’s name weighs heavy on his tongue, but Cassian is quick to swallow it back down. He rolls over onto his side, away from Nesta, giving his pillow a hard punch. These are the last type of thoughts he needs. Sighing softly, Cassian forces his mind to empty, to quiet, forces himself to give in to sleep’s embrace.
—
Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies
#nestaweek2024#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#acotar#acosf#nessian fanfiction#nessian fic#nesta x cassian#when we howl#my fic
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OLD GRUDGES (part 3)
A/N: i know it took me way longer than it should have, but at last im here with the next part and that's what matters, right? thank you for the support on the prev parts, hope you'll enjoy this just as much!
WORD COUNT: 4.3k
WARNING: sexual content
SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.
MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST
Meetings never really excited Harry, but lately, they have been his favorite along with studio sessions. Because these were the times he always got to see Y/N.
Today he is going in with her favorite cookies in his bag that he picked up on his way, taking a detour just to drop by that one place she loves the most. It’s been a recurring thing for Harry, picking up a cup of coffee for her, buying her favorite snacks for their sessions or surprising her with lunch from that taco place she adores so much. He’s been doing practically anything to get a smile on her face because he feels like that’s the only thing he is destined to do.
He’s been ignoring the fact that her time working on the project ends in two weeks, according to the contract. The only chance to stretch it longer if the required songs are not finished, but they are all practically done at this point. Harry tries his best not to think of what it will be like when he doesn’t get to see her as often as he does now.
The meeting was scheduled only yesterday, so Harry has no idea what it is about, but it doesn’t really matter, they are supposed to record afterwards, so he only cares about spending more time with Y/N.
However, the smile fades when he walks into the room and doesn’t see her. It’s odd, she is usually there before him, but now it’s just a couple of the studio engineers, Niall, Liam and Blake, the kind of weird manager from Modest who’s been working with them since they started recording for Midnight Memories. Harry has been getting these eerie vibes from him, but he just can’t put his finger on it, so he’s been sucking it up and ignoring it. He gave no reason not to be trusted so far.
“Hey, what’s up?” Harry greets everyone walking into the room.
“Ah, Harry! You’re here!” Blake smiles and they shake hands before Harry settles in a chair. “I was just telling the boys what this meeting is about. Good news, you are set for another album after Midnight Memories is released!”
It’s no surprise, to be honest. One album after the other, the pace has been just like that for a while.
“Great,” he nods. “Do we know who we’re gonna work with?”
Blake then hands him a paper with a list of names and some other details. Harry runs over the names, looking for a particular one, but it’s not there.
“What about Y/N?” he asks.
“Ah, I wanted to tell you guys. She got another project kind of last minute, so she is done with the album for now and won’t be able to join for the next one, it seems like,” Blake explains casually and it doesn’t stand out to anyone else either, but it hits Harry in the chest pretty hard.
She is done with the album? Why didn’t she say anything? They talked on the phone just two days ago, why didn’t she even mention it?
And why isn’t she gonna work on the next album? Harry doubts she is booked that far ahead, she is just getting recognized in the industry and she told him herself she is living from one project to the other, works on the next album won’t start at least until they start touring Midnight Memories.
It’s not adding up, but on the other hand… Harry has no right to question her. Even despite how close he’s been getting to her, they are still just… coworkers. Friends.
But nothing more.
“Alright, now that we are talking about the next album, I have a little sneak peek of a song that could be a big hit!” Blake seems enthusiastic as he opens his laptop and then soon a demo starts playing, but Harry can’t really focus, he is too stuck on the fact that he has no more time left with Y/N. He even pulls out his phone, ready to text her and ask her how all of this happened, but then talks himself down. When he finally starts to listen to the song, it sounds familiar at first, but there are no lyrics and Harry often finds random songs familiar lately, because he just hears so many new melodies on a daily basis, they tend to blend together.
“You like it?” Blake asks him and Harry just nods.
“Yeah. What is it called?”
Blake smiles confidently as he shuts the laptop down.
“Night Changes.”
The weather is finally good enough for grilling and the rowland household would take an opportunity anytime for that. Filling up their backyard with the people they love the most and feeding them burgers, hotdogs or basically anything Mitch is able to throw onto the grill. They usually have a gathering like this every month if their schedule and the weather allows.
Now it’s finally the first official grill party of the year.
Harry is sat outside by one of the tables, his plate is empty by now, but he knows he’ll get another round at one point. Cards are scattered on the tabletop, along with glasses of lemonade and beer, the kids are playing in the back somewhere by the treehouse, everything feels and looks idyllic.
For the past about two hours Harry couldn’t stop looking for Y/N. Stealing glances when she was talking to Sarah or playing with the kids, trying not to ogle her too obviously when she was laughing at something at the other table. He wanted to walk up to her a thousand times already, but he is trying to act cool and figure out how to act when there are other people around.
It’s an unknown territory for sure.
When Harry sees her walking towards the house he just can’t stay put. Excusing himself from the group he tries his best not to look suspicious as he follows her inside. Once the sliding door is closed behind him he quickens his steps down the hallway towards the bathroom, guessing she went there, but as he is approaching the door he notices it’s closed.
Should he try his luck and open it? Or maybe knock? Or…
Suddenly, the lock rattles and the door moves the tiniest bit, light coming through the gap. His heart skips a beat as he leaps forward and pushes the door open more so he can step inside.
And there she is, standing by the sink, checking herself out in the mirror when Harry walks in and closes the door behind him. Then slowly, she turns her gaze to him, for the first time today and for a moment Harry thinks she might tell him to fuck off and get out, but when he sees her lips part, he knows what she wants.
Him.
They collide fast, their usual hunger for each other taking over in a heartbeat. Demanding kisses, rough touches, they both know they should be in a hurry, Harry can’t even remember if he locked the door, it would be rather awkward if someone walked in on them.
Especially because no one knows about them, or whatever is going on between them.
It’s been over a week since the dinner party that ended up with the most confusing but also mind-blowingly amazing sex they have ever had. When it was over Harry simply left and kept to what she said, that they would not talk about it and that’s exactly what happened. They never talked about it, but it happened again.
Twice since then.
And now they are going at it again.
“Fuck,” Harry growls into her mouth when she reaches into his pants with quick but confident moves, because it’s not the first time she is doing it and he can only hope it’s not the last either.
“Quickly,” she pants and he just nods, bunching up her dress and tugging her underwear down. It’s no surprise he is already hard, following her inside was like a foreplay to him, the secrecy, the chance that she might tell him to fuck off, his pulse has been rising before he stepped into the bathroom.
They moan together when he thrusts into her, but then he gets back to kissing her to keep their voice down as he starts moving. Usually, they don’t talk when they are having sex, but Harry feels like changing that up, trying out how she reacts to something different.
“You knew I would come after you, huh?” he pants against her lips.
“I did,” she breathes out, one arm curled around his neck, her other hand gripping the edge of the sink to keep her balance.
“You thought about me fucking you all day?”
To that, she doesn’t answer and Harry almost regrets opening his mouth, but then she looks at him and nods.
“I did,” she repeats herself and even cracks a smile before pulling him closer to kiss him hard. And just like that, a tightening but warm feeling spreads in his chest.
They don’t need much time, Harry is the first to come and she follows soon right after. Her head falls against his chest , rising and falling with his deep breaths and he tries to fight the urge, but then gives in and bringing up a hand he runs his fingers through her hair. Part of him fears this move might be too intimate for her and that she’ll shake him off of her any moment, but it never happens and Harry enjoys it, probably way more than he should.
They clean themselves up and soon it’s just the sparkle in their eyes that proves what they just did.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asks, fixing her makeup in the mirror.
“Are you asking me out or something?” Harry cheekily asks and she just smacks his chest playfully.
“I have some stuff I’ve been working on that I want to show you.”
Harry’s pulse fastens again. This is just like it was before, when it was just the two of them, sharing the songs they were working on.
“I would love that,” he smiles at her, watching her walk to the door.
“Alright. I’ll text you then.”
Y/N walks out and Harry knows they are back to not talking and for a second he wonders how long he’ll be able to keep going like this.
When he walks out he is still deep in his thoughts, but then when he reaches the kitchen he comes to a halt, seeing Mitch by the kitchen island, sipping on some lemonade, a knowing look on his face.
“Hey man,” Harry clears his throat and joins him instead of walking outside.
“Hey. Everything alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
“Want to share why I just saw Y/N coming from the same direction as you just did?”
“Uh… you know, we just…”
Harry can’t quite find the right words, especially because he doesn’t like and can’t really lie to Mitch, but he also wants to keep the no talking rule. Mitch stares back at him with a blank face for a second, but then his eyes go wide.
“No way.”
“What?” Harry laughs.
“For real?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You and… you and Y/N?”
Harry doesn’t answer, but that’s quite the answer to Mitch.
“Oh my God, how long has this been going on?”
“Keep it down!” He hushes his friend. “It’s… it’s nothing official or anything.”
“But it is something, right? What is it?”
Harry once again just stays silent.
“You two are having sex?” More silence. “Oh my God! Did you just do it in the bathroom?!”
“Shh!” Harry tries to shush him again, but he also can’t hold back his smile, thinking about what just took place in that bathroom.
“Harry, what the hell! When… How did that happen? You know what? I don’t want to know about that,” Mitch changes his mind quickly, making Harry laugh. “But like… what is it?”
“I told you, it’s nothing o–”
“No, I mean… what do you want it to be?”
Harry sighs as he turns so he can look out at the backyard through the sliding door. And there she is, with a glass in her hand as she is talking to Sarah, laughing at something and Harry wishes he knew what it was.
“I just… I like her. A lot.”
“But you two had been hating each other passionately, what happened to that?”
“I think we took the passionately part and turned it into something else,” Harry smirks cheekily, his eyes still glued to her figure outside.
“Oh my God, you are so gone for her,” Mitch breathes out, shaking his head. “You’re falling for her!”
Harry turns back to Mitch and hesitates before speaking up.
“I already fell for her. When we worked together years ago. But then she basically disappeared and when we met again, she acted like I was her mortal enemy,” Harry chuckles. Calling himself the enemy sounds ridiculous, but it’s the most fitting he could say. “And now…” he hums, but doesn’t finish his thought out loud.
“And now you’re falling for her again?”
“I might be,” he nods.
The Sun has set, but the party's still going. Well, it’s not raging, some of the people who came with kids have left and Scout has been put down by Mitch as well, but a handful of guests are still out on the terrace, playing card games and sharing stories.
Y/N sits right across from Harry and he has noticed the change. She is losing her cold act towards him, slowly but surely. They can finally talk and joke around almost like back in the days. Harry however doesn’t want to let himself go deeper than he should, he knows he is on an unstable field with her and he feels like it all could snap any moment, but…
It feels so amazing.
Making her laugh, sharing knowing looks, teasing each other like old friends, Harry missed being like this.
When he notices that she’s probably cold his first thought is to offer his hoodie, but he is quick to stop himself, he’s sure it might be too much at once so he instead just asks around who needs a blanket as he is heading inside anyway so he can easily grab a few.
But then as the night comes to an end, he still decides to try and dance around the unsaid boundaries.
“Hey, I just ordered a car, added your address as well.” Harry tells her when he sees her open the Uber app on her phone.
“Ah, no need, I can just–”
“Already ordered it,” he insists, hoping she’ll accept it and luckily, it seems like she is not in the mood to argue.
The car ride is quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. She is on her phone, reading what seems like emails to Harry and he notices the change in her instantly.
“Everything alright?”
She looks up with a frown and then sighs, locking her phone.
“Just work. I have this annoying assistant, called Daryl up in my ass on another project, he is trying to get me to give way more than I’m obligated to. I don’t even know who his boss is, the damn guy is like a mystery for some reason.”
“Like, they want more music from you?”
“Yes,” she nods. “They want to listen to stuff I’m working on in case something fits the album, but I’ve already delivered what I was paid for.”
Although he is eager to know more, to offer his help, he stays silent, staying within the boundaries this time, not pushing his luck even more. It’s a miracle itself that she even said this much about anything personal.
“So tomorrow?” Y/N asks when the car stops in front of her house. Harry looks at her and for a moment, all he can think about is the last time they were here like this.
“Yeah, I’m free,” he manages to speak up, snapping out of his memories.
“I’ll text you. Bye then,” she nods before climbing out of the car and heading towards her front door. Harry watches her for a bit before he tells the driver to leave.
She still hasn’t texted him. It’s four in the afternoon and he hasn’t heard of her since she got dropped off last night.
He was up early, went for a run, because he definitely needed to put his extra energy into something instead of continuously checking his phone, hoping for a text to pop up. Then he grabbed himself a bagel on the way back, brewed a coffee when he got home and had his breakfast while staring at his phone like a sore loser.
He took that damn phone everywhere he went. Literally everywhere. But the hours passed by and he got no sign and at first he just thought she got busy with something, but by the time he was done with lunch, it turned into a worry.
She was as punctual as one could get and she would have already texted him by now, even if it was just about that she is running late with whatever she was doing. A decent session lasts at least three or four hours and she is not one to pull an allnighter.
He has kept ordering himself to be patient all day, but now he lost the last bits of his bearing. At last he decides a text is fine, she can answer whenever it’s convenient.
HARRY: Hey, are we still up for a sesh?
He keeps the conversation open and watches his message sit there, its status staying delivered for what feels like forever. Then, about twenty minutes later, it changes to read and the three dots start dancing at the bottom of the screen as Harry’s heart threatens to jump right out of his chest. He knows he is acting ridiculously, but he pushes the thought to the back of his head for now.
The dots then disappear, but no message arrives. A minute goes by and they reappear and this time a gray bubble follows.
Y/N: I got a bit of a situation on my hands rn.
Then a photo pops up of her house with two police cars parked at the front and Harry’s stomach drops.
HARRY: I’m going over.
He sends the message before he could even think it through and he is already out the door by the time she reads his reply.
When he arrives one of the police cars is still there and Y/N is out front, talking to an officer. She is lacking her usual on-spot style, wearing a baggy sweat set, her hair in a state of mess he has never seen before, but even despite the worried expression on her face, she looks annoyingly beautiful.
She spots him as he gets out of his car, crossing the lawn with a slow jog.
“Hey, what’s going on?” he asks, on the verge of losing his marbles if he doesn’t find out what happened immediately.
“Give me a minute,” she tells him, turning back to the officer. “Thank you for everything. I’ll let you know if I find anything that’s missing.”
“Take care, Miss. We’ll have a car patrol around the neighborhood every hour for the next 24 hours, though it’s unlikely they will come back.”
With a nod, the officer walks over to the car, gets in and they drive away.
“What the hell happened?” Harry asks when Y/N finally turns to him.
“Someone broke into my house,” she says and then just simply heads back inside. Harry jogs after her.
“What? When?”
Y/N is walking straight to her kitchen and Harry follows her, locking the front door behind him.
“I went to a yoga class in the morning. When I came back, I noticed my lock was picked and the door was open.”
Harry watches her rummage through a cabinet before grabbing a bottle of tequila along with two glasses. She shoots a questioning look to him, to which he just nods, though he is still lost, confused and kind of angry. She pours a generous amount into both glasses and then hands one over to Harry before chugging hers down faster than ever.
“Did anything go missing?”
“Literally nothing,” she laughs bitterly. “Everything seems untouched and I just don’t understand it at all. Why would someone break in if they don’t take anything valuable?”
“Money? Jewelry? Everything is here?”
“Everything. I checked everything.”
Harry is now just as clueless as Y/N. It doesn’t make any sense, but it’s also somehow even worse. Whoever broke in had a reason to, but it’s completely hidden for now.
When she reaches for the bottle again he notices how much her hands are shaking. She is a nervous wreck.
“Hey, you don’t want to lose your rationality right now,” Harry softly warns her as he grabs her hand and stops her from pouring another one.
“I’m fucking terrified, Harry,” she admits, her voice shakes and so weak like never before. Harry’s heart breaks for her. “Have you ever felt unsafe in your own home?”
“I have,” Harry answers without hesitation and that’s when she finally looks him in the eyes again. “I had a few stalkers throughout the years and attempted break-ins.”
And just like that, something changes in her. The last bits of the wall she so carefully built up between the two of them are destroyed and she lets him see her fully and so naked emotionally. Her lips tremble, tears dwell in her eyes and just as the first sob breaks out of her chest, he is pulling her into his embrace.
For a second Harry thinks it might be just luck, that she is only opening up to him like this because he is the one who is physically here with her, but he then wipes this thought and just focuses on being the support she truly needs.
He holds her tight as she cries into his chest, pressing kisses to the top of her head until she calms down and regains control over her breathing.
“Pack a bag for a few days, stay at mine for a bit, okay?” he softly says when she finally pulls back, just enough to look at him. She doesn’t try to put up a fight, just nods and lets him walk her up to her bedroom.
He helps her pack, she grabs the clothes while Harry packs her laptop and chargers. Half an hour later they are getting into his car before heading over to Harry’s place. The car ride is silent and Harry doesn’t even try to talk her through it. He knows how important it is to let her find her own peace in this situation instead of trying to just temporarily divert her attention.
It’s actually her first time at his place, so she is curiously examining the place when they finally arrive. Harry shows her around quickly and then they reach the bedrooms upstairs.
“Choose a bedroom, personally my favorite is that one,” he smiles softly, pointing at the one next to his own bedroom. She walks closer and peeks inside, then into his bedroom and he watches her patiently.
“Can I… sleep with you?”
Her request surprises him, but he would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t hoping for it.
“Sure, of course,” he nods and gestures for her to walk inside.
He sets down her bag to the ottoman at the end of his king sized bed while she looks around. Harry grabs a towel for her from the closet and hands it over to her.
“Take a shower, I’ll make tea for you, how does that sound?”
She just nods, holding the towel to her chest and he can’t believe how vulnerable she looks. The Y/N he’s known for the past few months is nothing like the woman standing in front of him right now.
“Alright, then I’ll…”
He clears his throat and then turns around to give her privacy, but he doesn’t even get to take a step before she grabs his hand and pulls him back. He opens his mouth to ask what else she needs, but he is met with her lips pressing against his, hard and needy and he wastes no time to return the kiss just as passionately. His arms curl around her tightly, like an armor, ready to protect her from anything and everything.
They stumble into the bathroom and she pulls away, just enough so that she can start stripping out of her clothes, but Harry stops for a minute before things get too heated too fast.
“Wait, are you… Today was a lot, are you sure you… want to…?”
“I’m sure. I need this,” she nods and even though she appears just as vulnerable as before, there’s some kind of strong will mixed in her state now. Harry stares back at her, looking for any kind of sign that this might be a bad idea, but then she adds: “I need you.”
And Harry knows in that moment that he would give her anything in this world, because he fell for her again, but this time, it’s nothing like he has ever felt before.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb
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Fanfic inspider by @thisbelongsto-nohbodys 's future owlphibia au. Please excuse the fact that I have no idea how Ao3 works, so it's all posted here.
CW: Somewhat-more-than-canon-level violence, blood, minor swearing, and blatant shipping.
Armoured Knightmare
It wasn't supposed to go like this.
When Azura Noceda had met up with her frenemy, Lily Boonchuy, she hadn't expected their day to end up here. It was just supposed to be a normal hang out. But Lily had seemed especially down that day, so Azura figured a short adventure on the Isles would help cheer the blonde girl up.
It hadn't been long into their journey that Azura had noticed a structure she hadn't seen before. It looked old. Really old in fact. It was some sort of stone structure, looking almost like the entrance to an ancient tomb. Azura, of course, wanted to leave well enough alone. Who knew what sorts of traps were down there to kill potential grave robbers? But Lily marched towards it all the same.
“Lily, you're being stupid.” Azura said plainly as she jogged to catch up to her friend. “We have no idea what's down there.” Cotton, her tiny white bat palisman, squeaked in agreement from on top of Azura's head. Lily just gave Azura a look over her shoulder before continuing on.
“Listen, we came out here to adventure, right? What better adventure than an ancient, unopened tomb in a magical world?” Lily drew her sword and jammed the blade in between the two stone doors, and began to push on the sword, using it as an impromptu pry bar.
“The stuff above ground is dangerous enough.” Azura stated. Now that they were closer, she could make out faint carvings on the door. It was hard to make out what they were trying to say, but she could make out some sort of orb with tendrils stretching out, an armoured figure, and a group of witches and demons tearing the armoured figure apart. While she tried to figure out the carvings that were faded more than the others, she was startled by a loud scraping sound.
Lily smiled as she managed to open one of the doors enough to get a hold with her hand. Grabbing hold with both hands, she pulled, grunting in effort as she moved the large stone door. “Listen,” she said once it was open enough for her to slip inside, “I'm going down there. You can follow me, or you can stay up here. Doesn't matter to me either way.”
Before Azura could respond, she saw Lily slip inside the crack. Sighing, she started following after the blonde. “Why are you acting like this?” She muttered, more to herself than to Lily. If the other girl heard her, she didn't respond. All Azura knew was that Lily and her younger brother, Percy, got into some sort of argument, and Percy had said something about how Lily would never be like her moms. From what Azura knew of the younger kid, he had to have been pretty pissed off to say something that mean to his sister. And Azura partially understood why Lily felt the way she did. Her mom saved the Isles from Belos when she was younger than Azura was now, and Lily's moms had done the same for that other world, Amphibia. Both of them were daughters of legends, who had a lot to live up to. But sometimes, it seemed to Azura that Lily was either going to be a hero or die trying.
As the pair trudged deeper and deeper into the tomb, Azura drew a small circle in the air, casting a basic light spell and holding the floating orb in the air above her open palm. All around were mossy stone tiles and carvings covered in various vegetation. The carvings were practically gone, destroyed by the ravages of time. Whatever story - or warning - these carvings told was unable to be gleamed. However, Azura frowned at something else she noticed.
“There's no bodies or coffins.” The witchling noted aloud. Lily simply shrugged.
“So?” The human girl asked.
“A tomb of this size should have at least a few. Or even offerings to the dead or something. But it's just the stonework so far.”
“Well, maybe it's all just further in.”
“Bodies, maybe. But offerings are left near the entrance, so that visitors don't disturb the dead.” Azura pointed out. “And we've gotten far enough in anyways that there really should be bodies.”
Lily sighed. “Well, maybe it's not a tomb then. So, there's just something else to discover down here.”
“That's what worries me.” The witchling sighed and pet Cotton, who was letting out small, nervous squeaks.
The two continued deeper and deeper, the carvings soon giving way to smooth walls. And then, the hallway opened up to a massive stone room, easily a cube 50 feet in all directions. Azura jumped and Lily raised her sword as, when they passed the threshold from the hall to the room, light spells activated all around the room, illuminating it. The entire room was empty, save for some sort of stone throne with a rusted suit of armour slumped in the seat.
Lily sighed and looked around. “All this, for one suit of armour? Seems overkill.” Lily took a step forward, but Azura grabbed her arm tightly. In the witchlings hand, she held a miniature harp, one of her signature instruments for her bard magic.
“Lily, we should go. We can find something else to do. Maybe we can hike up the knee, fight a Slitherbeast or two. But we should leave this alone and tell someone else about it.” Azura's voice was filled with nervousness.
Lily grit her teeth and pulled her arm out of Azura's grip. “What, think I can't handle a dumb suit of armour?”
“Lily, that's not what I-”
“And even if it is magical and animates, it's not like I don't know how to fight!”
“I know that! I'm just saying-”
“What, that you think I don't have what it takes?!” Lily got right up to Azura, gripping her sword tight, knuckles turning white.
“I'm saying I don't want you to get hurt because you're too angry to think straight, you idiot!” Azura snapped. She panted heavily as she and Lily stared each other down. Lily glared hard at Azura.
“Screw. You.” Lily said, and marched towards the armour.
“Lily, wait!” Azura followed after her.
“If you're not going to help, just leave!” Lily yelled back at Azura without looking back.
Azura felt a growing sense of dread as they approached the armour. Something was very wrong, but she couldn't tell what.
Lily got right in front of the armour, staring down at it.
“Happy? It's just a normal set of abandoned armour. Now, please, can we just-” Azura yelled in surprise as Lily swung her sword with a scream, knocking the helmet clean off and sending it clattering to the floor. Azura watched Lily for a moment, the human girl panting heavily. It was only after a moment that Azura realized Lily wasn't panting, but starting to cry. Wordlessly, Azura pulled Lily into a hug. After about a minute, Lily finally spoke.
“I'm sorry.” Lily quietly said. “You're right. This was stupid. I just… What Percy said.”
“I know. I understand. Believe me. I really do. But if you need to blow off steam, there are much better places than old, creepy tombs.”
Lily chuckled dryly. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right.” Lily sighed and stepped out of the hug, Azura letting her. She wiped away the last of her tears and sighed. “How about lunch instead?”
“Sure. But you're paying.” Azura said with a playful smirk, earning an equally playful chuckle and punch to the arm from her friend.
“I don't have any snails, dumbass.” Lily let a small smile creep onto her face.
The two of them began to walk out of the room, but the bright mood was quickly broken, both girls freezing in place as the sound of metal scraping along stone behind them. Slowly, and wide-eyed, they turned around. Behind them, the armour was slowly getting up from it's throne, it's joints creaking with untold years of built up rust. From where it had landed on the floor, the helmet was floating up and over to the body. With a dull, hollow clank, it landed back where Lily had knocked it from. The armour rolled it's non-existent neck, pulling a sword from behind the throne and staring down the two young adventurers with empty, hateful eyes.
“Lily?”
“Run?”
“Run!”
The two spun around and started sprinting towards the hallway they had come from. Behind them, they heard the animated armour rapidly approaching. Azura spun around and strummed her harp, creating a magic shockwave that she hoped would cause the armour to stumble. When nothing happened, Azura whistled for Cotton, who transformed into its staff form, Azura hopping on.
“Hop on!” Azura yelled at Lily, holding her hand out to Lily. Lily reached out and grabbed hold.
And then the sword came down on her back.
And Azura saw a spray of red come from the wound.
It wasn't supposed to go like this.
Azura pulled Lily up quickly, holding the now limp girl close. She sped off on Cotton, the armour chasing after them, though with the speed boost from riding her palisman, Azura quickly outpaced it. She blasted through the open door, skidding to a halt and placing Lily down gently on the ground before running over and pushing as hard as she could to close it, Cotton even flapping over to help her. She could still hear the armour rushing towards them, which only spurred Azura on more. Just as she thought she was going to be trampled by the running armour, she slammed the stone door shut, the armour slamming into it from the other side, but seemingly unable to push it open from its side. Deciding that would have to do for now, Azura picked Lily up and rushed her to the only place she could think of.
Lily was breathing shallow, and looked up at Azura. “Z-Zura. I… I need to tell you something…”
“You can tell me later, okay?” Azura said, wishing now more than ever she didn't inherent her mama's weak nerd arms.
“No. No, please. Let me tell you. Please.” Lily's voice was weak, each word a struggle.
Azura had tears in her eyes, her attempts to speak failing and just slowly nodding.
“I… I like you ‘Zura. I know… I know I denied it, but… I… I like you.” Lily admitted, her eyes slowly closing.
“Hey. Hey, you keep your eyes open, okay? Lily? Lily?!” Azura shook the girl as she passed out in Azura's arms. Seeing where she was heading, she burst through the door, nearly out of breath. “AUNT VINEY! I NEED HELP!”
What happened next was a blur. She breathlessly explained vaguely what happened to Viney, who took Lily away. Emira contacted Amity and Luz, who in turn contacted Anne, Sasha and Marcy. When everyone arrived, Amity and Luz checked on Azura, while Anne, Sasha and Marcy waited with Percy and Maddy, Lily's younger sister and the youngest sibling, waited for Viney to finish up with Lily. All Azura could pick up was when her Aunt Viney said Lily's wound healed without a scar. After what felt like an eternity, Anne walked up to Azura, getting down to eye level.
Azura looked at Anne with teary eyes. “I-I'm so sorry. I… I… I'm sorry.”
Anne softly smiled and put a comforting hand over Azura's. “Hey. Don't be. Lily told us what happened. You saved her, Azura. Thank you. So much.” Anne softly pulled Azura into a short hug. “Now, Lily says she wants to talk to you about something.”
Azura nodded, getting up and walking past the rest of Lily's family. Sasha looked over at Azura as the witchling passed by and mouthed a silent “Thank you,” before going back to keeping their youngest daughter occupied.
Azura entered the room where Lily was lying in a bed. Already, the human girl looked much better. Azura took a seat beside Lily.
“So… um… your mom said you wanted to talk to me?” Azura shifted awkwardly in her seat, unsure if Lily remembered what she had said on the way here. Lily nodded.
“First off, thanks. And… And you were right. We definitely shouldn't have gone down there.”
Azura sighed softly. “While you're right, I probably should have done something more to stop you. But what's important is that you're okay now.” She smiled softly.
Lily nodded. A small blush formed on her cheeks. “And… um… I meant what I said. On our way here.”
It was Azura's turn to blush, her face going as red as a tomato. “O-Oh. Um. O-Of course. I… I just wasn't sure if you remembered.” Azura shifted awkwardly again. “Um…” Azura sighed, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and looked Lily in the eyes. “I… I think I like you too, Lily.”
Lily's blush grew even brighter. “So… what does that mean for us?”
Azura took a deep breath. “I… I think this means… We take it slow. One date at a time. And see where we go from there.” Azura took Lily's hand with a smile. Lily smiled back.
“I think I can deal with that.”
From the doorway, Percy laughed. “Called it!” He received a pillow to the face from his sister for his troubles.
~Fin~
#the owl house#amphibia#azura noceda#lily boonchuy#anne boonchuy#sasha waybright#marcy wu#sashannarcy#luz noceda#amity blight#lumity#toh viney#emira blight#vinera#lizura#thisbelongsto-nohbodys
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games (mostly text-based) about houses and places-- exploring them, haunting them, feeding them:
childhood homes (and why we hate them) - after a decade, you return home.
return - a text-based horror game about coming home.
singing from the far side of the hill - about a trans woman, homeless after a bad breakup, who rents a stranger's spare room. it's a decision she comes to regret.
anatomy - Explore a suburban house, collect cassette tapes, study the physiology of domestic architecture.
leave house - leave house
the open house - We at Northtree Real Estate (in partnership with Optix Dynamix Labs) are proud to present our new, state-of-the-art, open house simulator! Come and take a quick tour of 15615 Hollow Oak Lane, a familiar and comfortable showcase home in one of our premier developments!
what girls do in the dark - This little game is based off one of the greatest fears they had as a teenage girl: showing up late to a stranger's slumber party.
unbecoming - a sonically-textured interactive horror fiction exploring cycles of trauma and unspeakable forces of nature in a mythic rural American landscape.
13 laurel road - an interactive fiction game about the relationships we have with places and reconciling with trauma. You play as a young man named Noah who has been tasked with picking up some things from his cousin’s old house.
domvs - a gothic mystery game in which you rely on your environment to uncover the truth.
flesh, blood, & concrete - you find yourself in a vast, empty apartment complex.
i am still here - a short, unconventional ghost story and vignette reflecting on the end of a long lockdown.
vacant - Film a ghost-hunting show.
#on a haunted house kick#some of these are like. a stretch i suppose#but all of them revolve around places or exploring them in some way#people seemed to like that last list i posted surprisingly lmfao#this is just from what i've personally played#it's kinda hard to search for a niche subgenre....i skimmed some of the haunted house tag on itchio#but as soon as you get into 'horror' over there you just get some real awful schlock#edit: I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT GONE HOME.....#games
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savor-edesign thoughts
#zeno's art#ocs#reassassination#dr savory#the reason i have to redesign him is because reassass' style has become more refined and diverse in face shape/size#that the adult characters look distinct next to the teens#but savory still looks like a teen in the style#and he js supposed to be 32 years old so i guess thats not good#really i just gotta stretch out his face a bit#also i have some oc sheets done and ready tp post but i want to finish them all first....#or fuck it ill post it now actually
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So terrible to be forced to choose between writing my essay and looking at the full moon light up the sea
#I never tire of that#It's not something I had ever seen happen outside of paintings by people like John Atkinson Grimshaw until I moved here#But I have to switch the living room light off to see it properly and that means working in the dark#Which makes typing twice as difficult and also my eyes hurt from trying to read academic articles on a screen which is always too bright#First world problems honestly#But yeah I suppose I'd forgotten how strong moonlight actually is away from light pollution; think I rememberit as a kid in the country#But the Firth of Forth down from my house is ten miles of nothing and there's currently no ships on that stretch so it's SO BRIGHT#And just the faintest glitter of the lights of some of the Lothian coastal towns far away on the other side#And the shadow of the Tolbooth steeple in the foreground
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Spooktober - Day 26 - Kelpie
There's a sound coming from the Water Ruins...
#Spooktober#This is stretching it again but 'water associated' being 'that turns into a horse' is close enough pfft--#Rune Factory 4#RF4#Rune Factory Frey#RF Frey#Rune Factory Thunderbolt#RF Thunderbolt#Showing friends the sketch of this was fun because Thunderbolt's sketch has immense detail and. Frey was bare shapes#it's obvious which species I have more experience in drawing#Frey was supposed to show up earlier in this series but got booted for the RF2 fam on day 14 - so it feels good to finally use her \o/#Also- I hate Frey's canon design. Immensely. and have been trying to think of my own version for a year now.#I feel like this is a good start. No more garbage 'boob armor' shape. Some strength to the legs.#A good start I'll play with more
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Ughhhh I have go to the store after work to fight with my pharmacy over my meds again
#yaps#went in when they were supposed to be ready. got told they weren't#wait a few weeks and stretch my meds#turns out they were ready at some point but THE MESSAGE WENT TO MY MOM INSTEAD OF ME????#i haven't been on my mom's plan in like 4 years but they still send her all my shit#despite me correcting them multiple times.
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Eiglay made me think about Jörmungandr but instead being thrown to the sea in hopes to drown him, she was banished to the volcano. Both thrive in their environment. Growing huge.
Snakes being blasphemous symbol was obvious for Rykard. But it has been hot potato topic since dlc trailer. Meanwhile, I ponder if Eiglay once was seen as something to challenge the order. She desires to devour it all. Literally, all. Maybe devouring a demi-god was a sign of a mutual deal... two vengeful beings making a pact lol.
#♕*.ooc#|| okay I am stretching but the mythology had me like#|| monsters are made#|| Eiglay I suppose is somewhat immortal being or at least super long living specie so I pondered too if she had some kind of deity status#|| in ancient world at least
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