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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

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Stranded and Geraskier? 🧜‍♂️

Pairing: Geralt x Jaskier Warning(s): non-human anatomy, tentacles (in every possible way), choking/breathplay Rating: explicit

Summary: While exploring a cave, Jaskier gets trapped by the tide, but the inhabitant is more than happy to find a way to help him pass the time.

I took this idea and ran with it! Thank you for the opportunity to write octo!Geralt, I've been wanting to for a while now <3

There is a reason they say the northern end of the beach is off-limits, but Jaskier has always been inquisitive and rather terrible at following instructions, so it's no surprise that he ends up there anyway. He's been staying on the coast for a while now and while he always loves coming back, he's feeling a little restless lately. So he's taken to taking strolls along the beach in the early morning or the evening while he's not performing, but today he has the entire day free, so he's come a little earlier than usual to try and settle himself.

But the usual route isn't doing anything for him today. The sand is still soft and warm on his feet and the waves still crash rhythmically on the shore, but he just wants something new. So, when he reaches the end of his normal walk and comes to the gated off area at the northernmost end of the beach, he slips past the gate and continues. Nothing immediately jumps out at him as dangerous, so he just strolls along, shuffling his feet through the sand.

The beach is usually quiet, but right now there isn't another person in sight and Jaskier revels in the silence, humming to himself as he goes along. When he comes to the point, he follows the tapering beach around to a point and beyond it, there's a little more land that leads into a rocky outcrop. He can't get past it, but he could climb up it and sit in the sun, looking out over the ocean.

He wades through the water where it rises to midway up his shins before reaching the other side, but when he reaches the stone ledge, he spots what looks like a cave. And he can't just not go look at it. So he takes another quick peek just to ensure no one else is around and hurries toward the opening in the rock. The sun above is bright, but the overhang of rock offers some relief from the heat, so he takes his time.

The entrance is, in fact, the mouth of a cave and Jaskier grins to himself, slipping inside. It's not deep, but at the back there is a drop-off and a tunnel that leads further. He walks forward steps around the gaping hole in the ground, careful to keep his footing as he aims for the tunnel. It's dark, but he can still see a little - well enough to continue on for the time being - and up ahead there's a faint glow that piques his interest.

So he doesn't stop when the light starts to fade, just heads toward the glow at the back of the tunnel. It's some ways down, but he does eventually come out into another cave with a smooth rocky floor and another tunnel leading off. But what interests Jaskier more than anything is the plant life. It grows on the walls and ceiling and it glows.

It lets off a faint bluish glow and Jaskier leans up to inspect it. Some of the plants grow little purplish flowers, but most of them resemble moss or vines and Jaskier would be inclined to call them plain if they grew in a forest and weren't luminescent. But they are and he's fascinated by it.

He spends more time than he should inspecting all the different types of growth - there are at least four distinct plans he can see all growing together - and it's not until the light from the opposite end of the tunnel begins to fade that he realizes he should turn back. He has a performance tonight and he'd like the chance to bathe and change beforehand.

He slips from the room he's in, heading back through the tunnel, but the ground beneath his feet slopes downward and he doesn't realize until water splashes around his ankles. It startles him at first; there was no water on the way in, but as he reaches the main cave, he realizes what has happened.

He's spent too long exploring and the tide has come in around him, too far now to walk out the way he came in. And Jaskier is a good swimmer, but water swirls dangerously where the hole in the ground is, pouring quickly into, it and he's not a strong enough swimmer to keep from being sucked down. Even as he considers it, the water swirling around his feet rises higher and his only option is to turn back the way he came. Which is not a great option, but he doesn't really see what else he's supposed to do.

But he turns around and heads back through the tunnel. The incline is more than he remembers, and judging by what he knows of the tides - very little - he thinks he should be safe to hide out here until it goes back down again. He finds a bare patch of wall and drops to the ground to lean against it, sighing softly as he listens to the water rising in the tunnel. It splashes against stone and Jaskier shuts his eyes, focusing on the calming sound of it. Maybe the time will pass more quickly if he can just have a little nap.

But the more he listens, the more he hears and there's a slick, sliding sound he's been assuming was seaweed caught in the current, but when he focuses hard enough, he can hear something not unlike breathing. His eyes flash open and he scans the room but sees nothing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, there's a shadow.

Jaskier's heart races because he knows the kinds of things that live in the sea; sirens, drowners and any number of animals that would be happy enough to eat him alive. So he presses himself against the wall and keeps quiet.

Something long and thin slips over his foot, curling around his ankle, and Jaskier's eyes flash open. He hadn't even realized they were still shut, but when he looks up there's a person in front of him, or at least he looks like a person. But as he comes closer, Jaskier realizes he only looks human from the waist up. Below the waist is a mass of dark tentacles, sprawled out all around him and propelling him forward.

Jaskier shudders at the sight of him, but as he approaches, the fear dissipates a little, replaced with intrigue. The man - if he can be called that at all - doesn't seem angry or upset and he has a friendly enough expression. He slips closer, sinking lower so he's face-to-face with Jaskier and it becomes clear that he's just as curious about Jaskier as Jaskier is about him.

"Uh, sorry," Jaskier mumbles, "I didn't mean to intrude, I just ah-" one of the tentacles reaches out, tipping his chin up and sliding across his jaw. "I just got trapped-?" His voice rises at the end like a question, but the creature just cocks his head at him.

"The tide," he says and Jaskier nods. He's got a beautiful voice, deep and rough and in any other situation, incredibly sexy. But while Jaskier isn't discriminating in his choice of partners, he's still feeling rather trapped.

"Mmhm."

"It won't go down again until morning. Unless you can hold your breath for a long time, you'll have to spend the night."

"Oh." Jaskier is caught off guard by the lightness of his response and he looks up at him. "You don't mind?" he asks and the creature just smiles at him, an odd sort of smile that makes something in Jaskier's stomach flip.

"Stay," he says, "it'll be hours before the tide is low enough for you to leave again."

"You're not going to eat me?" The creature laughs and slides a little closer, peering at him.

"No. I've never had a… human in my home before. I'm certainly not going to kill you." He chuckles softly and swishes away to the other side of the cave, but Jaskier is caught on the sound of his laugh, a warm, welcoming thing that he'd like very much to hear again. And, well, he has all night.

"Sorry," he says, rising to his feet and following the creature to the other side, "I don't know what - who - you are."

"Geralt," he says plainly, "I'm a cecaelia. We've been here longer than most, but many of us don't come so close to the surface, so you wouldn't have met many."

"Haven't met any," Jaskier confirms. "We're told to stay away from the creatures who live in the sea." Geralt lifts an eyebrow at the word creature, but doesn't say anything about it. Jaskier makes a mental note not to repeat it.

"And you," Geralt prompts, "what's your name, human?"

"Jaskier," he huffs and I get the point. "Do you live here alone?"

"Yes, unless you count the fish who filter in and out with the tides."

"You must get lonely."

Geralt gives him a look that from anyone else he might consider flirtatious, and it stirs something inside him that he quickly tamps down. This isn't the time to get turned on. Especially not by someone who's not human.

"Occasionally. I'm used to being alone."

Jaskier isn't sure how to respond to that, so he lets the conversation drop. He wants to assure him, which is a strange compulsion because he doesn't even know Geralt. Two hours ago he couldn't have cared less about a man living on his own in this cave. But now…

He looks him over, following the line of his body from his strong jaw and thick chest down to the mass of tentacles that never quite seem to stop moving. Even when Geralt is still, they shift under him like he's trying to settle, though he seems calm. More like an unconscious motion, maybe. But Jaskier is fascinated by them. He wants to touch, to feel, but he knows well enough to keep his hands to himself when unwanted, so he switches focus.

"So what's it like living down here?" he asks, looking around the cave as though he hadn't spent ages exploring it already.

"Quiet," Geralt says tiredly, "peaceful. But that's not what you want to talk about, is it? You can ask," he hums.

"I just-"

"Jaskier, we have all night down here together. Ask."

"Do they ever stop moving?" he blurts and heat creeps into his cheeks at the abruptness of it, but Geralt just chuckles softly.

"When I sleep. When I'm relaxed."

"Then what's wrong, now? If you're not relaxed."

"I have… questions of my own."

"Okay," Jaskier says, "ask away."

"Can I… touch you?" he asks and Jaskier's breath catches.

"If you like. I have nothing to hide."

Geralt shifts forward, reaching out to brush a tentacle under his chin again, tipping his head up and moving it side to side. It feels like an examination, like the time he fell ill and had to be taken to a healer, but Geralt's touch is much softer, much more delicate than that.

"I've never met a human before either," he says conversationally, "you're… softer than I expected."

"Softer?" Jaskier laughs, "how so?"

"Your… skin looks thick and rough, but it's soft, smooth." He presses the tip of the tentacle against his cheek, pressing in gently. "Like a jellyfish," he adds and Jaskier laughs again.

"Is that bad?"

"No," Geralt hums, tilting his own head as he turns Jaskier's. "I like it." Another tentacle curls around the back of his neck and Jaskier breathes deeply, trying hard not to think too much about the touch, about how it feels like a lover's touch.

He's had countless lovers slip a hand around his neck to pull him closer and he leans in without thinking, letting Geralt have full control over him. Geralt grins and smiles knowingly at him, sliding the tentacle from his neck to his shoulder and down over his chest. The tip of it slips into the gaps in Jaskier's shirt, poking at the buttons holding it closed.

"Why do you wear these?" he asks, not looking up from his exploration. "Don't they get in the way?"

"No," Jaskier shakes his head and hates to admit that he sounds a little breathless. "They keep me warm. I'd freeze in the cold weather without clothes. And they keep me covered. It's not polite to walk around naked all the time."

"For humans," Geralt amends and Jaskier nods. "I'm not human." Jaskier chokes on the implication, but Geralt just meets his eyes questioningly.

"You can take it off, if you want."

Geralt doesn't need to be told twice. He fumbles with the button at first, but when he brings up a second tentacle to push at it, he has much more luck. Jaskier wants to tell him he could just use his hands, but there's something fascinating about the potential of having those tentacles on his skin. Once the buttons are undone, Geralt shoves the shirt back off his shoulders leaving it half-tucked into his trousers.

He frowns at Jaskier's chest, running his tentacles over his skin. Jaskier gasps when he brushes over a nipple and leans into the touch instinctively. He draws back just as abruptly, gasping as he realizes what he's doing. He doesn't have a chance to apologize before Geralt's touch lightens. He doesn't pull away, but he tips his head at him.

"Should I stop?" he asks, but the tone of his voice implies that he doesn't want to.

"I just- Geralt you don't know what you're doing."

"I do," he hums, "this part of you, I understand. It feels good for you?"

"Yeah. Do you- do you want to make it feel good?"

"If you'll let me," Geralt hums, "I've always been… intrigued by you, by humans." Jaskier grins and pushes forward, sliding one hand down the length of the tentacle exploring his chest.

"Can I touch you, too?"

"Of course, I'd like that."

"You realize what you're offering, right? Not that I'm opposed, but I want to make sure we're both on the same page, here."

"Jaskier," he hums, "we have all night and I'd very much like to fuck you if you're amenable."

Jaskier's skin prickles and he lets out a little groan. Maybe he should feel weird about Geralt wanting to fuck him just because he's human, but he's vibrating at the thought of it already.

"Please," he whispers and Geralt moves immediately.

He wraps one tentacle around his waist, hauling him in and holding him close. He tugs the shirt from Jaskier's trousers, chucking it aside as Jaskier straddles him, careful where he puts his knees so he doesn't hurt Geralt. But Geralt keeps him off the ground, hovering slightly so Jaskier's front presses against him firmly, but so he only barely touches Geralt's tentacles or the webbing between them.

Jaskier presses himself forward, conscious of the fastenings on his trousers as he grinds against Geralt's torso. Tentacles wind around his hips and chest and thighs, slipping against his skin then pausing to suck at it. It sends shivers up his spine and goosebumps break out over his skin. The feeling is so foreign, the feeling of suction all over his skin, but it feels good and he leans into it.

Geralt's hands settle on his shoulders, slowly sliding down, and Jaskier glances up to meet his eyes. Geralt's have grown dark, but there's still a sliver of gold around his pupils and Jaskier finds himself entranced by it, how it shimmers and almost glows even in the low light. He touches Geralt's face, traces the line of his cheekbones and runs his thumb against his lip.

"You're beautiful," he whispers and Geralt's hands slip to his waist, pulling him up against him. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Jaskier leans in and Geralt meets him halfway, kissing him hard and nipping his lip with teeth sharper than they ought to be. Though Jaskier supposes he doesn't have much for a frame of reference when it comes to cecaelia. He deepens the kiss, letting Geralt's tongue slide into his mouth, thinner and more pointed than his own. He licks into him, fingers digging into his skin as he grips his thighs, and Jaskier just holds on for the ride.

All his experience with other people means nothing when faced with Geralt and he's feeling a little out of his depth as he's laid back against the stone floor again. Geralt breaks the kiss long enough to squirm in between his thighs and then reaches down, fumbling with the clasps of Jaskier's trousers. He gets them undone and shoves them down his legs, immediately getting his tentacles back on his bare skin.

"Oh," Jaskier gasps, "oh, that's good, Geralt."

"Feels good?"

"Very. Keep going."

Jaskier shuts his eyes as Geralt's tentacles slip between his legs, brushing against his balls before squeezing around his thighs. Geralt hums and gets his arms around Jaskier's waist, sliding one hand down over his ass.

"Tell me what to do," Geralt says, tilting his head to kiss Jaskier's jaw, "tell me what feels good."

"Anything," Jaskier hums, "just touch me."

"Like this?" Geralt asks, sliding a tentacle around his torso and Jaskier nods, eyes fluttering as suction cups catch on his nipples. He moans softly, reaching out to run his hands up Geralt's chest and Geralt pushes into the touch. "You like that, too?"

"Yes." Jaskier revels in the surprising warmth of his skin, soft and smooth over firm muscles and he slides his hands up over his shoulders, pulling Geralt close to kiss him again. He sighs into his mouth and Geralt deepens the kiss, pressing further against him.

He's got Jaskier almost completely bound now, wrapped tightly and held just above his lap, but he moves forward, tipping him back and laying him on the ground. Abruptly, all of the tentacles around him are gone and Jaskier is left alone and suddenly cold on the ground, but it doesn't last long. Geralt slides up over his thighs, settling himself there where he has full access to Jaskier's body.

He runs tentacles over his chest and Jaskier stretches out, pushing his arms up above his head to give Geralt better access to him. His touch feels good, like a massage. Geralt doesn't hesitate to touch anywhere, pushing his thighs apart and sliding between them, sliding up around his balls as another curls around his cock, squeezing experimentally.

Jaskier gives a little whine and Gerakt's eyes flash up to meet his. He does it again, harder this time and Jaskier squirms under him. Geralt's eyes go wide and he grins as he slips his tentacle up the length of him and Jaskier nearly chokes because he's doing it on purpose now. The arm around his balls squeezes a little too and Jaskier tenses up immediately, expecting pain, but it's… good. He shudders a little as his thighs spread further and then Geralt's squeezing again, wrapping around him.

It's not something he's ever done with anyone before, but Geralt has no idea what he likes and doesn't like, or even what feels good for humans, so he's exploring. And evidently, Jaskier is learning a thing or two, also.

Geralt moves on, sliding back up his stomach again and Jaskier shudders as they slip over his hips, over the sensitive skin just above his cock. He wants to let Geralt continue his exploration, but he wants the pressure around his cock again, wants to fuck into the heat of him. Geralt's skin is thicker and rougher than his own, but it's smooth and it feels good against his prick and he just wants.

"Geralt," he whispers, "come here." Geralt cocks his head and leans forward over him. He runs his hands up Geralt's chest, slipping over his shoulders and around his neck to tug him down.

He nips at Geralt's lips, nuzzles at his neck and rocks up against him. He's hard already Geralt's skin just feels so fucking good against his heated cock. He jerks again, pushing up hard and tangling his hands in Geralt's hair. He slips one hand out of Geralt's hair and wraps his hand around Geralt's tentacle and pulls it down between them, sliding it alongside his cock until Geralt gets the idea and wraps around him.

"You like this?" he asks and Jaskier moans softly, rolling his head back as he lets out a breathy yes.

Geralt makes a thoughtful sound and squeezes firmly, eliciting another moan and he seems very pleased with himself. He strokes him a couple of times, slipping right up to the head and sliding around him as he goes. It's intoxicating and Jaskier doesn't know if his own hand will ever be sufficient again, after this.

But Geralt still delights in finding the new things and he slips away shortly, slipping up to play with Jaskier's nipples again and Jaskier just groans. Geralt perks up, grinning at him.

"Do you want this?" he asks, slipping over his aching cock again. Jaskier nods and Geralt strokes him exactly twice before winding down around his thighs and squeezing.

"Geralt," Jaskier groans, "please."

"What do you want?" he asks, a smirk spreading across his face. Jaskier could kill him, the bastard. He's toying with him.

"You know what I want."

"Do I? Remind me."

Jaskier groans and grabs for the tentacle again, wrapping it around himself and thrusting up into the coils. He moans softly, dropping his eyes shut and slips his hands around the coiled arm, keeping it tight around him.

"Seems like you've got it under control," Geralt teases, but before Jaskier can even argue, he's leaning down over him, nipping at his collarbone and squeezing around Jaskier's cock.

"Oh, Geralt, please."

His hips buck hard and Geralt coils and uncoils around him and it's a delightful feeling like nothing he's ever felt before. Jaskier whimpers and his hips jerk up into the loose coils, immediately aching for the touch again. But Geralt seems to have lost his taste for teasing now and holds tight around him, ensuring Jaskier's entire cock is engulfed by him, jerking abortively up into the grip of him.

And Jaskier could cry with how good it feels, the rough slickness of Geralt's skin creating a burning need that spreads through him and he's gonna come in no time like this, but he doesn't even mind. Because after he comes, he gets to touch Geralt, to figure out all the little things that turn him on and he looks forward to it with delight.

Geralt pulls him back to the present with a sharp bite to the join of his neck and Jaskier cries out, jerking hard into his tentacle.

"Sorry," Geralt hums, already licking over the mark, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"Fuck, don't be. Do that again."

Geralt lifts his head to look at him then tentatively lowers his head, brushing his lips against the skin of his neck before kissing him. He nibbles lightly at his throat and sucks softly before nosing under his jaw and biting down hard on the side of his neck. Jaskier gasps and moans and his cock jerks as he comes hard, still encompassed by Geralt's body.

Geralt continues with the slipping, almost like wringing a cloth, and Jaskier is breathless and gasping, already swelling again under the touch by the time he pulls away.

"Fuck me," he breathes, "Gods, Geralt you are incredible."

Geralt hums, but his attention is clearly diverted and when Jaskier looks up, he's playing with the come on his chest, slipping the tip of one tentacle through it and lifting it up to sniff at it. Jaskier wrinkles his nose, but then Geralt's putting it in his mouth, flicking his tongue out to taste it and his gut clenches. That… should not be as hot as it is.

Geralt grins down at him and climbs up over him, pressing something warm and wet against Jaskier's cock as he settles himself.

"You look good," he hums, "when you come." Jaskier just groans and presses up against Geralt's underside. He gets a little gasp in response and grins to himself.

"What is that?" he asks, "do you- how do cecaelia fuck?"

Geralt doesn't answer, but shifts again, pressing harder down against Jaskier's prick. It catches on something and Geralt lifts himself just a little, keeping himself steady as he maneuvers Jaskier's cock inside him without so much as touching it.

His eyelids flutter and he moans softly as he sinks down on him, fully engulfing Jaskier's cock and clenching around him.

"Feels fuckin' amazing," Jaskier huffs, though that might be the sensitivity talking. He's not used to coming and immediately being (mounted) afterward, but he's not complaining.

"Mm," Geralt affirms, "it's been a long time since I've taken something inside, but-" he groans as Jaskier shifts his hips and drops forward, leaning on his elbows. "Fuck me," he whispers before leaning in to kiss Jaskier's neck. "Please, fuck me."

Jaskier doesn't need to be told twice. He slides his hands down, settling on the swell of what would be Geralt's hips and holding him down. He rocks into the tight heat, eyes rolling back as Geralt clenches continually around him, and nuzzling against his head.

"Gods," he breathes, "fuck Geralt, does this feel as good for you as it does for me?"

"Feels good," he huffs, "really, really good." He bites at Jaskier's skin and shifts himself forward before sliding down fully on Jaskier's cock again and rising up to sit on him.

Jaskier glances down, running his fingers down Geralt's waist and pauses when he reaches a bump. Geralt's breath catches and Jaskier presses more firmly against it, massaging the spot until Geralt lets out a low, rumbling moan.

Beneath his fingers, the skin parts and Jaskier pulls back abruptly, but Geralt reaches out, pulls his hand back against it.

"Please," he mumbles, "it's been… a long time since anyone has touched me like this."

Jaskier lets his fingertips trace the seam, slipping just barely inside when Geralt shudders. Geralt keeps a firm hand around his wrist, holding him there and Jaskier is intrigued as to what feels that good. He doesn't have to wait long to find out.

Beneath his fingers, something slips free from the slit, thick and red and very much dick-like. He flicks his eyes up to Geralt's, holding his gaze as he wraps his fingers around the head of it. Geralt groans and his cock slips further out, slipping into Jaskier's palm. Jaskier curls his hand around him, stroking evenly until Geralt's fully unsheathed and Jaskier's fingers can no longer press into the slit at the base of him.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods, rocking up into his fingers and back onto his cock. "How come no one touches you like this?" He can't possibly imagine fucking someone like Geralt and not wanting to touch every inch of him.

"I haven't seen another cecaelia in years," he breathes, "and it's not as good on my own." He flexes his hand showing off clawed fingers and Jaskier nods, understanding.

"How do you touch yourself normally?" Geralt licks his lips and Jaskier follows the motion with his tongue, rolling his hips up into him. Geralt raises a tentacle, wiggling it at him.

Jaskier reaches out with his free hand, wrapping his fingers around it, lifting it and running his fingertip along the lip of the suction cups as Geralt holds it aloft. It shivers under his touch and Jaskier grins as he looks up to see Geralt's face pinched up in pleasure, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"Does that.. do you like that?"

"Geralt nods silently," pressing the tentacle more firmly into his grasp.

"What if I-" Jaskier starts and Geralt's eyes go wide as he slips his palm along the underside of the tentacle and brings the tip toward his mouth.

The limb twitches toward Jaskier's mouth and as he wraps his lips around it, the rest of the wriggle around him. Jaskier sucks it into his mouth and Geralt groans. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing that should feel good, but he likes having his fingers sucked, so he assumes it's something similar to that.

He winds his tongue between the cups, tracing the shape of each of them before taking it as deep as he can, sucking hard. Geralt groans, withdrawing a little before pushing back between his lips and Jaskier hums around him. He lets Geralt take control, leaning back on one elbow, one hand still slipping against his hip as he rocks.

From here, he has a perfect view of Geralt's cock, jutting proudly from his body as he fucks himself on Jaskier's cock. He's slick and dripping and Jaskier aches to get his mouth on him, to suck him off and make him come in his mouth. He squirms with the desire, sucking hard on the limb in his mouth instead and Geralt jerks forward hard.

He surges forward, keeping Jaskier's cock buried inside him as he winds tentacles around his arms, pushing them up above his head and holding them there. His hands slip down over them until they reach Jaskier's, twining their fingers together and using him as leverage to rock back onto him.

Jaskier squeezes tightly, even as sharp claws press into his skin. Heat swells within him and he knows he won't last with Geralt riding him like this, but he gives in to it, clearing his mind of everything but their bodies moving together. His head falls back, but instead of hitting the hard floor, the blow is softened by another tentacle, slipping up to cushion him.

"Can I-?" he asks and Jaskier doesn't even wait to hear what he's going to ask before nodding enthusiastically.

Beneath him, two more tentacles wrap around his thighs, squeezing tightly and pushing them apart. A third slips between, pressing against his balls and then slipping back behind, into the cleft of his ass. Jaskier squirms and rocks against it, pushing himself further into Geralt's cunt. He groans around the tentacle still in his mouth and Geralt presses against his hole and that's all it takes for Jaskier to tip over the edge.

He shakes through his orgasm, still sucking on the tentacle in his mouth, though his finesse fails as Geralt continues to rock onto his cock. Pleasure zips through him and he squeezes hard around Geralt's fingers, holding him tight as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him. He's still shaking as Geralt clenches around him and it's so fucking good Jaskier can barely breathe.

Geralt withdraws the tentacle in his mouth and bends to kiss him, slow and soft despite Jaskier's breathlessness. It's a little uncoordinated, and Jaskier pants against his mouth, but a warmth spreads through his chest as Geralt's tongue slides against his own. He hums against him and Jaskier just lets him lead, his eyes dropping shut.

"You're beautiful," Geralt breathes as he draws away. His lips drag against Jaskier's skin and Jaskier shudders as goosebumps pop up in the wake of Geralt's mouth.

"You didn't come," Jaskier mumbles, slipping his hands into Geralt's hair. "Wanna make you come."

"And you will, but I think you need a minute or two." He wraps a tentacle around Jaskier's cock and stroking slowly. But Jaskier is soft, though it feels good when Geralt touches him again.

"Dunno if I'll get hard again," he says but he's already feeling it, the first tendrils of pleasure swirling in his gut. And he knows he can get hard again, has done it in the past, but he's already a little overwhelmed and he doesn't know if it's gonna happen tonight.

But Geralt isn't worried about that. He strokes him again, slips up and rocks against his soft cock, kissing his neck and chest and squeezing his nipples between his fingers. Geralt is persistent and it doesn't take long before Jaskier's cock swells again under his touch. Geralt shoves a hand down under himself, squeezing Jaskier's cock and kissing his mouth.

"Want you to fuck me," Geralt hums, nipping at his lip. "Wanna feel you."

"Fuck." Jaskier drops his head back as Geralt's fingers slip up over the head of his cock, his thumb pressing teasingly into the slit. "Fuck. Yeah, okay."

Geralt tugs him up and slides off of him, turning around and bending over to lean on his elbows. He sticks his hips up, moving his tentacles to the side so Jaskier can fit in between them. He does, running his hands over Geralt's hips and down his back. Tentacles wrap around him, holding him and pressing him lightly forward, slipping up over his shoulders and suctioning to his skin.

From here, Jaskier can see his hole properly and he rubs against the ridged entrance, circling it with his fingers before pushing inside. And Geralt groans at the intrusion, dropping his head shut and pushing his hips up further.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

Encouraged, Jaskier slides his fingers inside, eased by Geralt's own slickness. He works into him easily, feeling around inside and thrusting gently. Geralt groans softly, encouragingly, and Jaskier works in a little quicker, adding a third finger without any effort. He fucks into him until Geralt is panting beneath him, tentacles clenching around him and twitching.

It feels good to be able to make him feel good and Jaskier delights in the little popping feeling of suction cups against his skin as Geralt lifts his arms and replaces them, squeezing around his limbs. He moans loudly as Jaskier's pace increases and as he squirms, Jaskier realizes how close he is and he's determined to make him come with just his fingers. So he rubs into him, feeling around until he hits something that makes Geralt gasp.

He grins, dipping down to kiss Geralt's spine as he brushes against the mound again.

"Like that?" he asks.

"Fuck. Yes."

"Wanna come on my fingers?"

"If you'll still fuck me."

"Of course, my darling. I'd be delighted to fuck you. Take you apart and make you scream on my cock."

"Yes," Geralt whines, "fuck, Jaskier."

"Mmhm," Jaskier hums, "soon darling, come on."

He slides his free hand around, slipping around the base of Geralt's cock. He slips his fingers into the slit, pressing into his cock before wrapping around it and stroking slowly. Geralt bucks into the touch, gasping and moaning and with a final thrust as Jaskier presses against that spot inside him, Geralt comes.

Jaskier pulls his fingers back, now completely slick and he slides his hand over Geralt's hip, still stroking his cock even after Geralt shudders under him. Geralt seems perfectly content to fuck into Jaskier's fist, but Jaskier is impatient now, his cock hard and aching between his legs.

He wraps a hand around himself, stroking a couple of times before pressing himself against Geralt's entrance. He's still sensitive, but it feels good and as he rubs himself against the slick skin, the sensitivity gives way to pleasure.

"You feel good," he mumbles, "want you. Fuck."

"Come on," Geralt encourages. He squeezes around his thighs, nudging him forward and sucking at his skin. "Wanna feel you."

Jaskier groans and pushes in, pulling Geralt's hips against him. He curses softly as Geralt wiggles his hips and pushes deep, keeping himself steady. One tentacle slips up around the back of his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly and Jaskier snaps his hips forward hard, pulling a low groan from Geralt.

"That's it," Geralt coos, "I know you want to come again, hmm?"

Jaskier just groans as he rolls his hips forward, letting Geralt adjust before thrusting harder. And it does feel good. It feels so good and he wants more of it. He fucks into him quickly, pushing his hands down Geralt's back and pulling back again.

A tentacle slips between his cheeks, grinding against his hole but not pushing in and Jaskier rocks back onto it, groaning loudly. He's surrounded on all sides, bundled up in Geralt's limbs as he fucks him and he loves the firmness of the tentacles around him, of the warmth and slickness and he groans as his cock throbs inside him. The one around his neck teases, slipping up to press at his lips, pulling his bottom lip down and pressing between them.

The limb tightens a little, slipping around his throat to push between his lips and Jaskier barely manages to groan out a soft harder, before his mouth is otherwise occupied. Geralt seems to get the idea though, tightening his grip on his neck just a little and Jaskier's eyes nearly roll back in his head. He fucks forward almost absently, focused on the suction cups clinging to his throat and the firm weight of it around him.

And fuck, it feels amazing.

He pushes harder, changing his angle to try and hit that same spot from before and when he does it's gloriously clear. Geralt slumps against the floor, arms stretched out in front of him, whining as Jaskier aims for the same spot again, rutting ceaselessly into him. His head is foggy with lust, enhanced by the slow intake of his breath and he's creeping close before long. But he doesn't want to stop, can't bring himself to stop.

He sprawls over Geralt's back, getting a hand around his cock again and playing with the tip. He slips his fingers around and inside, drawing back to the base and pressing into his slit and Geralt whimpers delightfully with each touch.

"Gonna come-" he mumbles and it's all the warning Jaskier gets before Geralt's jerking into his hand and coming all over him. He shudders and pushes back, and as he clenches around him, Jaskier follows, coming hard and dropping against his back.

The limb around his neck slides away and he inhales deeply, mumbling softly against Geralt's bare skin. He shuts his eyes and breathes in the scent of him, surprisingly strong for someone who lives most of his life presumably in the ocean. He listens to Geralt's heartbeat under his head and smiles softly to himself.

But he doesn't have much time to relax, only enough to catch his breath before Geralt is squirming under him, wriggling free and bringing Jaskier up to lie on his chest. He runs his hands through his hair, holding him gently around the waist with two tentacles and he just looks at him. His eyes are still dark, but they're soft and fond and it's too much, so Jaskier buries his head in Geralt's neck. He already struggles with becoming too attached to people too quickly, the last thing he needs to do is wind up falling for a cecaelia who he has no hope of continuing a relationship with.

But when Geralt kisses him, he shuts his eyes with a soft sigh and it doesn't feel wrong. It should feel wrong, he realizes, sleeping with someone who isn't even human, but he supposes Geralt is more like an elf in that sense. Elves are basically human, just slightly different. Half-elves are a thing, as are quarter elves, so why should Geralt be any different.

Evidently, Geralt thinks he's thinking too much, because he pulls himself up into a sitting position, drawing Jaskier up into his lap. He's still kissing him, but he wraps his arms around his waist this time, letting his tentacles slip down to wrap around his legs, smoothing along the skin and coiling around him. As long as he lives, no rope or bond will hold him quite as nicely, as securely as Geralt does now.

Jaskier deepens the kiss, licks into his mouth despite the heaviness spreading into his limbs. His eyes are heavy and he's not sure he could get up on his own, but he doesn't want to stop, doesn't want Geralt to let him go. Not yet. So he continues kissing him, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck and running fingers through still-damp hair.

But Geralt clearly has other plans and when Jaskier feels the tip of a tentacle pressing up between his cheeks again, he can't even find it in himself to say no.

"Don't know how good I'll be," he hums, ducking to kiss the side of Geralt's neck. "'M tired."

"We can stop," Geralt says, but Jaskier shakes his head before Geralt can even pull away.

"No," Jaskier breathes, "I just- I don't know if I can make you feel good."

"You do," Geralt hums, leaning in to meet him halfway in a too-soft kiss. "Being inside you feels good, you sucking on me feels good. You feel good."

The probing tentacle presses a little more firmly, and it's dry, but Jaskier isn't complaining. Geralt pauses.

"You're not slick?" he asks and Jaskier shakes his head again.

"No, men don't- you gotta use something, it doesn't happen naturally."

Geralt hums thoughtfully and then the tentacle is slipping away and Jaskier is disappointed for a moment before it reappears, sliding smoothing against his skin before pressing in. He's slick this time and it takes Jaskier's sex-addled brain a minute to realize Geralt used his own slick and that does something to him that he can't quite explain. Geralt pulls him in close and Jaskier whimpers as the tentacle presses into him, sinking deeper than any cock has ever reached.

He holds his breath, waiting for the pain, but there's none, even as the thickness of the limb stretches him open. Geralt touches him softly, and then another tentacle is pressing at his hole and Jaskier can only whine into Geralt's chest. The second one doesn't push as deep, pressing right up against his prostate and Jaskeir doesn't think he can come again tonight, but as Geralt bumps against him, his cock twitches against his thigh.

"If we had more time," he mumbles, "I'd like to see how many can fit." Jaskier nearly loses his mind at the words so calmly spoken, and he wants to tell Geralt that he would absolutely be willing and happy to try that, but right now keeping his body upright is hard, so he just moans against him again.

"Can I fuck you?" Geralt asks and Jaskier huffs a laugh.

"'S that not what you're doing?"

"I mean with my cock," he hums, "I'd like to fuck you properly."

"Gonna have to discuss how you fuck properly if this isn't it," Jaskier mumbles, "never been so fucking full in my life." Geralt rocks up against him, breathing shakily as their cocks rub together.

"It'll be good," he breathes.

"Not saying no," Jaskier huffs, "I want you every way. Just not sure-" he gasps as Geralt thrusts deeper into him with the second tentacle "-how it could be better than this."

Slowly, carefully, Geralt slips out of him, using the same tentacles to wrap around his own cock, guiding it to Jaskier's hole as Geralt'shands slip up his back to steady him.

"Good?" he asks and Jaskier nods, shifting to adjust to the new sensation. Geralt's cock is smoother than the tentacles, thicker at the tip, and tapered and cool. When he pushes into him, Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck, holding him and shifting slowly to adjust. It's the temperature more than anything, but he likes the feeling of it inside him and he warms up soon enough.

He can't imagine how hot it is for Geralt, but it's hard to read his expression, just wide-eyed and staring as he sinks into him. As he settles another tentacle slips up his back and around his neck. Its grip remains loose, but it prods at his lips and Jaskier opens to him easily. Geralt pushes into his mouth, fucking his mouth with short, shallow thrusts as a third tentacle wraps its way around Jaskier's cock, leaving him completely engulfed.

His mind swirls with mindless thoughts of pleasure as Geralt fills him fully and wraps his way around him. He has very little movement, but he doesn't feel trapped. Instead, he just feels pleasantly held as Geralt moves under him, thrusting into him with slow, languid thrusts.

His cock is angled just so that it hits his prostate with the first thrust and doesn't stop, continually bumping against it until Jaskier is breathless and completely limp in his arms. And when Geralt dips down to kiss him, brushing damp hair out of his eyes, he's panting. He looks good like this, all dark eyes and parted lips, putting all his energy into holding Jaskier up and fucking him and Jaskier can't find the words to properly describe how Geralt makes him feel.

Then, just as he doesn't think he can get any more full, as he doesn't think he can take much more, a tentacle presses around his rim, sliding around the girth of Geralt's cock where it's buried within him.

"Please," Jaskier finds himself mumbling, "please, Geralt, I need it-"

"Shh," Geralt whispers, his voice unsteady as Jaskier squirms against him. "Let me take care of you." The tentacle presses in, winding around Geralt's cock inside him and shifting steadily.

He's so full he can hardly think, so overwhelmed and oversensitive and he can't do anything but cling to Geralt's shoulders and bury his face in his neck.

"Please," he whispers, "gonna come, please-"

He didn't think he could but his cock aches, throbs with the need to come. He needs it so bad it hurts and all he can do is grind up against Geralt as best he can in his bonds.

One of Geralt's hands comes around to hold the back of his neck and the other slips to his chest, thumb rubbing over his nipple and Jaskier very nearly comes right there. He whines and whimpers, writing amongst the mass of tentacles and Geralt kisses him hard, pinching his nipple and Jaskier thrusts into the coil of his tentacle, crying out as he comes.

Pleasure tears through him, bordering on pain as Geralt continues fucking into him, but it's so good, too good. The tentacle slips from his mouth, sliding back to cradle his head as it drops back and Geralt leans in to kiss him. He's twitching around him now, his cock snapping into him until Jaskier's seeing stars and then, with a groan against his parted lips, Geralt thrusts deep and shudders, pressing Jaskier tight against his chest.

After a moment, he continues rocking lightly, gently leaning Jaskier back so he can look at him. His expression is soft and he pulls a tentacle to take the place of his arm as he runs his fingers down Jaskier's chest.

"Feeling okay?" he asks and as Jaskier just groans softly in response, Geralt chuckles. "We've still got a few hours left until the tide is out far enough for it to be safe for you."

"Geralt," Jaskier huffs, "you're incredible, but I can't-" Geralt laughs again, dipping forward to kiss him.

It's soft and gentle and for a moment, Jaskier lets himself be drawn in, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck. His cock brushes up against him and he whines at the sensitivity, but Geralt shifts, laying him down on the ground and slipping off to the side.

It's cold without Geralt around him and he feels suddenly very alone, but Geralt gets a hand on his hips and pulls him closer. Jaskier cuddles in, rolling onto his back with one leg slung over Geralt's.

"It's been a long time since I've had company," Geralt says, "do you mind if we just… talk?"

"That sounds lovely," Jaskier hums, "I don't think I'm up for a whole lot more than that tonight," he turns his head, flashing a grin at Geralt and earns himself a kiss for it. It worries him a little, how easily he responds to Geralt's affection, how readily he gives himself over to him. His mother always told him he'd end up hurt because of it, but he never fully understood what she meant before, but he thinks he might now.

"What would you like to talk about?"

Geralt asks many things about where he lives and what it's like there, how far it is whether Jaskier is happy there. Jaskier is happy to tell him anything he wants to know, but as time goes by, he starts to nod off, worn out from being fucked so thoroughly. Geralt just pulls him in and curls around him as he drifts, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair.

When Jaskier wakes, Geralt is still there, breathing softly against him, though not asleep, and it only takes a moment to realize Geralt is the one who woke him.

"The tide is out if you want to go," he says softly, fingers coming up to slip through his hair.

"And if I don't?" Jaskier mumbles, shutting his eyes again and turning to throw his leg over Geralt's again, pressed against his chest.

"It'll be a while before the next tide-" he starts but Jaskier cuts him off with a grin, leaning up to kiss him softly.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to stay."

"Mm," Geralt hums, lacing his fingers with Jaskier's, "and why is that?"

"Because I like it here. I like the beach, I like the company. I'd like to get to know some of them better." Geralt scoffs, but when he rolls his eyes, his expression is fond.

"I wouldn't be… opposed to that, either."

"Good," Jaskier grins, "because I'd very much like to do this again sometime."

#geraskier #octo!geralt #mermay 2021 #rex writes

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

I loved Ceo Levi so can I request Ceo Levi comforting the reader because she’s in financial trouble? Idk the plot it’s up to you but that sort of idea. I hope it’s not too much of a bother!! Also happy birthday ❤️

author note :: very rushed and not that great at all but i hope it’s enjoyable anon !! also thank u for the birthday wish <333 if you’d like for me to idk expand on this request you can always request again my ask box is open !! <33333 word count :: 1.5k

levi’s worried about you

like super worried

ultra worried

mega, super, ultra worried?????

all the synonyms for large aren’t enough to explain how distracted he is whilst he stares at you from across the table.

the entire team meeting today you’ve sat down with a glazed expression, you’re clearly out of it and don’t want to be present

on a few occasions he notices you gnaw at your lips anxiously and your eyes shift everywhere showing you’re clearly uncomfortable

team meetings are normally two hours long on a monday to discuss production plans extensively but levi can’t even make it to the thirty minute mark before he’s dismissing everyone

“we’re ending early i don’t feel well.”

mr ackerman letting the team leave early again... it’s the second time he’s done it now but HEY, the employees have no complaints!!

levi knows something’s bothering you when you don’t move an inch from your seat

you probably haven’t even heard what he said about leaving because you’re so zoned out

now,,,,levi’s never really been big on physical contact and he’s not great at comforting or using words either but he still double checks the door is locked so he can speak to you privately

you start sobbing as soon as the sound of the door clicks

“y/n, what’s wrong?” he’s cautious in his approach but places a hand on top of yours gently to test the waters

but you only start crying even more ?!?,!,

which panics him because oh my god what did he do...???,?.

did he do something wrong???

you know what, he’s just going to copy what people do in the movies and hope it goes well

your sobs echo through the room and he thanks himself that the cement walls are definitely thick enough for you to not be heard by your colleagues

slowly but gradually you get a grip and it almost looks like you have to force yourself to a halt midway just to wipe the tears at your eyes

it’s at times like these that levi thanks you for having an expressive face because he would hate to not notice you felt this horrible

“i suggest you carry on if you haven’t got it all out yet. from personal experience it’s better when someone sits with you.”

levi’s warm words embrace you and you look at his arms then his heat pressed suit. he’s in a completely different world compared to you and a feeling of sickness soon overpowers the warm feeling in your chest

why are you sitting here and crying like a pathetic fool in front of your boss??

ok, maybe he’s a little more personal than a boss you aren’t sure what he really is but that doesn’t matter

“y/n, i have something to say.”

FUCK. this is it. you’ll be fired for being unprofessional and improper. this is IT. the end of your professional career.

you want to run out of this room at full speed and hurl yourself out of one of the windows never to be seen again...

but,, you won’t do that, that’s embarrassing

instead you steel yourself and look at him with as much courage as you can muster (which to be clear is not very much)

“if you ever need to take a day off for mental health reasons you’ve always been allowed to so please feel free to take the rest of the day off if you’d like.”

he’s... not firing you?

“but before that, would you like to let me know what’s happened? can i maybe help?”

you purse your lips feeling the premature humiliation

he can help, anyone with as much money as him can but you don’t want him to aid you. the guilt would eat you away

but you do want to confide in him and tell him what’s wrong

you want to tell someone about it at least

“i’ve been evicted from my apartment” your voice is barely above a whisper and levi just looks at you mouth agape

he pays you enough to live comfortably

how could you be getting evicted?

“i have to pay for my mother’s medical expenses so it’s stressful i send most of my earnings hom-”

levi shushes you with his input. “i’ll pay off the debt so you don’t be evicted and i’ll also give you a pay rise.”

at that you’re just pure shocked

is he even thinking right now???

because this isn’t the strong willed strategic business man you know

“no??? i can’t leech off of you??”

“you’re not leeching. i am investing in you.”

you’re a little lost now but choose to hear him out

“you work for me already and i greatly value your work. now you’re in a tough position. correct?”

you nod your head in response

“and for you to still work for me you’ll need a home. correct?”

again you nod

“so allow me to pay off the debts. it’s for both of our benefit.”

that however really isn’t levi’s reasoning at all. he couldn’t care less about that, he just doesn’t want to see you shoulder the pain and stress of it all alone

staring at him teary eyed you sniffle

“would you-” your voice cracks and you cough “really???”

you look so desperate and vulnerable and levi feels frustrated for not spotting the warning signs of your struggle any sooner

you had been coming to the office looking more restless, you had been drinking more coffee and despite the excessive caffeine consumption he still caught you dozing off at your desk at least four times

he places a hand on the centre of your back and pats you three times as if you’re members on the same ship

“yes i mean it, take it easy.”

his simple sentence is enough to cause all of your rational thinking to jump away and you drag him in by the neck into a tight hug

you’re ugly crying and you know you’ll look back on this in embarrassment but your mind works on impulse, you’re unable to stop it

usually levi doesn’t like anyone messing up his suits but he can make an exception for you. he’s sure your tears have left a moist patch but he’s not mad. hell, even if you get snot on his expensive dress shirt he’ll be okay with it

“is there any way i can pay you back mr ackerman?”

he winces at the formality of your tone

“call me levi.”

your brows raise at the request

“that’s what i want in return. for you to call me levi.”

????

that’s all???

“oh, well thank you levi. i’m grateful...”

his name rolls off your tongue awkwardly the first few times and even he regrets asking you to call him by his first name

but three days later you’re walking in breezily. a pen is tucked behind your ear and you’re double checking levi’s spending sheet with a calculator in your hands.

levi literally STOPS breathing because you look so refreshed today and the colour is back on your face. you look your best when you’re stress free.

and then you say it

“levi, do you think you could spend a bit less on tea bags because OH MY LORD???”

he notices there’s no longer an air of discomfort to his name and his chest swells happily

“y/n, give me ONE good reason to not spend my money that way??”

you notice how he easily he says your first name with an airy chuckle and you could almost... ALMOST... swear the two of you are flirting

to anyone observing with no sound he looks as nonchalant as normal but really the tone of his voice is implying the suggestive nature of conversation

“maybe you should spend your money on other things you like?” your suggestion is thrown back in your face when levi scoffs choking back a laugh

“i already am spending my money on other interests of mine.”

turning to face him and to hand him a file of paperwork you look him right in the eyes

“and what interests would those be?”

levi’s gaze meander down to your lips before shooting back up to your eyes and you swear you feel a tingle in the pit of your stomach

“i’ll let you figure that out on your own. you’re smart enough.”

you’re gaping at that reply because how are you meant to know???

but, the answer to your question is far more obvious than you think.

and it’s only after work whilst you’re eating dinner that you’re able to connect the dots

he was, talking about...you??

gasping you flush bright pink and bury your face into one of your sofa’s pillows

no way, there’s no way that happened

oh no, but there really is a way

and that way is levi ackerman ;-)

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fawnandshadows · 3 years

Text

After the Ceremony - Chapter 4

Hello Everyone! I am so excited to share Chapter 4 with you guys. I am so appreciative of all of the love I've received from the first three chapter, and I want you guys to know that I have chapter 5 written! Chapter 5 is officially the last chapter, and it will be out next week. This fic is also available on AO3.

I hope you guys enjoy xoxo

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian’s Mating Ceremony.

Words: 3,550

Story Rating: M

Elain was flustered all through breakfast. There was a burning between her thighs, and from the way everyone was studiously avoiding her gaze, she knew that everyone was aware of it. That they could scent it. Elain would have been absolutely mortified if she wasn’t so focused on not throwing herself at Azriel, who was seated as far away from her as possible. He was on the opposite end of the table, sitting across from Nesta, and Elain wanted nothing more than to peel herself out of her dress and feel Azriel’s skin on her - to feel Azriel as he pushed into her warm heat and filled her until she -

“Elain,” Nesta said from two seats over, breaking Elain out of her very vivid daydream. “Would you ever consider training with us? Cass and I talked it over and we thought it might be a good idea.”

Elain leaned over Cassian's hulking form, which was shoveling eggs into his mouth, to look at Nesta. Her sister looked radiant, way too radiant for someone who spent the night making love to her newly mated male, in fact they both looked suspiciously well rested, and not at all as restless as Elain felt. She felt like an electric current was coursing through her veins and the only thing that could soothe it was a certain shadowsinger who was pointedly ignoring her. Elain meant to respond to her sister, but her eyes drifted back to the male sitting across from her. She noticed how his arms flex, just a little, as they brought a cup of water up to his lips, and Elain thought about how his naked arms would look as he took her on the table, one hand under her knee and the other fisted in her hair, pulling just a little as he thrust -

Azriel choked on his water. His wide eyes with surprise as they met hers, and he looked flustered. The scary spymaster and shadowsinger, looked at her with an open jaw, bright red cheeks, and water dribbling down his chin.

The ache at her core throbbed at the sight of him. She wanted to see Azriel flustered more often.

Amren smacked him on the back, her eyes going back and forth between the two of them, before smacking his back a little harder than necessary, as if to remind them of Elains mate that was sitting at the table. Lucien glowered at Azriel before going back to his breakfast and conversation with Feyre, who was sitting at the end of the table to Elains right.

Cassian looked at Azriel for a minute before stating, “You need to get laid.”

Elain felt her eyes go wide at her brother-in-laws comment before hiding her face in her hair. She thought about how close they had come the night before, and she was kicking herself for stopping them. Waiting had seemed like such a good idea last night, but right now all Elain wanted was for Azriel to make love to her and never stop. She wanted him to claim her in a way that nobody ever had. She wanted him to leave a mark on her so that every other fae in Prythian would know who owned her heart- who she gave her heart two.

“Cassian!” Feyre exclaimed, carefully keeping her eyes off of her sister. “We’re eating breakfast.”

“Tell that to him,” Cassian said and pointed a finger at Azriel. “He’s the one that is stinking up the room with his arousal,” Which earned him a punch in the arm courtesy of Nesta. Elain had thought that everyone could smell her arousal, but did they think it was Azriels? Did their scents smell the same, but if they thought it was Azriel’s arousal, then why weren’t they looking at her. Unless they thought she was the reason for his current state.

The usually unflappable spymaster was so flushed that his only response to Cassian was a murderous glare and a swift “shut up.” Elain took in the sharp line of his jaw, and imagined running her tongue over it. How could she not have done that the night before? She imagined that jaw between her legs, while his tongue was pressing against her core, and she could feel it.

“So you think Elain should train?” Feyre said from Elain’s left, trying to get the conservation normal again.

Elain was suddenly bombarded with a mental image of her in Illyrian leathers, but she was kneeling in front of someone. The scarred hand that tangled in her hair told her she was kneeling in front of Azriel. Her mouth was opened and she was licking his -

It was Elain’s turn to gasp this time, her eyes flying to Azriel, who looked at her with a smirk. Did he know what she saw? That was impossible, no one ever saw her visions but her. Unless it wasn’t a vision…

A soft coolness brushed against her bare leg under the table, and Elain knew it was a shadow. She didn’t know whether this particular shadow was bold, or if it was under the directions of Azriel. Either way she was curious to find out. She bit her lip and glanced towards the shadowsinger, whose face was unreadable, but his eyes were suspiciously bright. He definitely knew what he was doing.

The shadow caressed her leg so delicately Elain was surprised she felt it. Feeling the shadow against her skin cooled her down just enough so that she could gather her thoughts to feel humiliation creeping up her spine like ivy, as she finally understood the situation.

Oh Mother. Her family could smell her arousal.

Her face burned hotter than ever before. She needed to excuse herself from the table.

Elain stood up so fast she thought she was going to faint, and ignored the six pairs of eyes watching her, and she muttered some excuse about helping the twins in the kitchen. She turned so quickly she almost toppled her chair, and she left behind a plate of cold eggs as she practically ran from the room.

She didn’t go to the kitchen. She bolted past it and out the side door, not bothering to take in her surroundings — otherwise she wouldn’t have tripped over the uneven patch of the cobblestone path leading to her garden, and continued straight to her little gardening shed.

It actually wasn’t so little. Elain’s gardening shed was practically a cabin. She had insisted on something smaller, just a regular wooden tool shed, but Rhysand in all his generosity wanted to build her something big enough for her to live in, so they came to a compromise. There was one big main room, filled with everything she could possibly want to garden with, a small kitchenette and bathroom fitted with running water, and Rhysand convinced her to add a small bedroom in case she tired while gardening. Despite his meddling her brother-in-law did love to spoil her.

Her shed was the only place she could feel truly alone at the river house, and she hoped that the smell of flowers and various fertilizers would cover the scent of her arousal. Elain barely noticed the hot tears sliding down her face as she slammed the door shut, she was feeling too many emotions to care about anything, and despite her confusion and humiliation, her desire for Azriel was so strong, and the burning at her core came back with a vengeance, that nothing really mattered to her. Every cell in her body wanted to be claimed by Azriel.

Elain collapsed in on herself. Her body hit the floor with a thud, and she brought her knees up to her chest in a hug. She sat there crying for a minute before she heard her name being whispered in the shadows. Her head whipped around so quickly she almost struck it against the door — at first she only saw shadow, but then there was Azriel clear as day with inky shadows swirling around his form.

“Az,” Elain exclaimed before getting to her feet and throwing herself at him. She expected to feel his hardened muscles, the softness of his shirt against her cheek, and the thrill of his calloused fingers against her skin, but she felt nothing except cool air. Elain took a step back and looked at him in confusion.

“It’s a trick I learned. Very helpful for spying, but not so much for comforting,” Az explained, and his face softened into concern as he continued. “Are you ok?”

“I’m so confused, and humiliated,” Elain sniffed as she brought her arms around herself. Her voice turned to a whisper as she said, “And all I want is for you to touch me the way you did last night and to never stop. I-I don’t understand.” She hiccuped.

“I’m not exactly sure what is happening, but I promise you I will find out. I want nothing more than to touch you too,” Az let out a groan that skittered over Elains skin and caused her aching center to throb. “But I don’t think I should see you until you… settle down.” After seeing the horrified look on her face he continued. “Not because I don’t want to, but because of what you said last night. You wanted to be free the first time we — made love— and I want to respect that. I’ll tell everyone that you aren’t feeling well, and I’ll have Nuala and Cerridwen bring you food and everything you need.”

“Are you not affected?” Elain asked in a whisper.

“I am, but I have been feeling this for a long time, Elain. I have wanted you for so long and been denied — every part of me is screaming to go to you right now, but I don’t want everyone to know. Well, I want to rub it in everyone’s face that the prettiest girl in Pyrthian wants to be with me,” Azriel shook his head with a small smile. “However, you know how our family can be.”

Elain nodded in understanding, and her tears subsided just a little. Azriel thought that she was the prettiest girl in Prythian. Happiness bloomed in her chest like a rose in spring.

“When will I see you again?” Elain asked and another thought occurred to her. “Are you still at breakfast?”

“No, I left a moment or two after you. I didn’t want everyone noticing that the scent in the room was lessening, so I left too. Rhysand and Lucien looked like they wanted to kill me, but fuck ‘em.”

A small giggle erupted from Elain as she said, “Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

Azriel blinked in surprise before tossing his head back in laughter.

“I’ll see you as soon as I can, I promise. I don’t want to be away from you any more than you want to be away from me,” Azriel said with a blush. “I’m assuming.”

“You’re correct.” Elain gave him her best smile — one that hopefully said she wasn’t going to climb the walls in desperation and want. “I miss you.” Elain said and her smile turned shy.

“I miss you too,” Azriel said with a heartbreaking smile. “I’ll see you soon, love.”

Elain said goodbye before he vanished into shadows.

Azriel felt weird about going to the library in his current state. He knew that the females that worked there had experienced trauma in the past and that the library was a safe haven for them, and he was more than embarrassed to be entering their sanctuary with the stench of arousal dripping off of him. Clotho hadn’t seemed to notice, however, when she saw him and directed him to the fourth floor. Az didn’t get the chance to say why he was there.

He did his best to avoid the priestess’ as he made his way to the fourth floor, which was suspiciously easy — almost as if they could smell him coming and knew not to go near him. The next training session was going to be uncomfortable.

When Az finally got to the section Clotho had directed him to he was stunned to find Mor sitting at a table with dozens of books spread out and propped open, she was pouring over an ancient looking book when her brown eyes looked up and met his.

She looked pleasantly surprised as she said, “You’re here sooner than I expected.”

“Mor,” Azriel said with a sigh and rubbed his temples. He could feel the beginning of a headache approaching. “What the hell is going on.”

The girl looked at him with pity before patting the seat next to her.

“I’ve been looking into all kinds of bonds that can occur between fae,” Mor started and held up a worn red book, “regular, run of the mill mating bonds,” She set her book down before picking up a fraying and tattered green one. “Surprisingly they have a book on bonds that can be made by the Cauldron — ancient, and in a language I barely understand,” Mor set the book down gingerly before picking up a hefty blue leather bound book. “And volumes, so many volumes, of mating bonds throughout the history of Prythian. This one here is just the greatest hits, but the next aisle over,” She set the book down and pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Has over 70 books detailing various mating bonds throughout history in the tiniest print you have ever seen. I didn’t know it was possible to write that small, but Mother bless the person who came up with the anti-aging spell for ink and parchment.”

Azriel stared at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take my thank you any day now.” Mor said.

“Why are you doing this?” Azriel asked in a calm voice. He looked at her intently as she tried to keep her face blank, but ended up turning the book opened in front of her.

“I want you to be happy,” Mor said in a quiet voice, so different from her usual boisterous self. “After,” She nibbled on her lip to collect her thoughts. “After 500 years you deserve happiness. I feel almost responsible, and I just-” She cut herself off with a shake of her head. “You and Elain both deserve to be happy.”

Azriel looked at her for a second before saying, “Thank you,” He let a moment pass before adding, “I want you to be happy too.”

He could see her eyes start to line with silver, but she managed to crack a smile.

“I’ll be happy once I can leave, Az,” She deadpanned which caused Azriel to roll his eyes. “So get to work.”

They spent at least three hours sifting through book after book only to come up empty handed. Azriel didn’t know what he expected, but he thought he would be able to find something that would at least point him in the right direction. He certainly didn’t think there would be that many books on mating bonds, or even spells that could create the illusion of a mating bond. Even the book on Cauldron made bonds held nothing of importance for him.

He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of palms. All he wanted to do was see Elain again, but he couldn’t go back to her empty handed.

“Maybe we are looking in the wrong section.” Mor suggested as she slumped in her seat.

“Has Clotho ever been wrong before?” Az asked and attempted to keep his frustration at bay. He knew it would take a while to find the information he wanted, but all of his self-restraint and patience had been worn thin. He may be the Spymaster, but he was a male just like any other, and he ached for a certain female.

“I could sense a bond between you two,” Mor said and ran her hands through her mane of hair in frustration. “But I didn’t understand why nothing snapped into place when you ate the food she offered.”

“Oh,” Azriel said with a blink. He ran a hand over his face as he realized he forgot to tell her a very important piece of information. “I offered her a sip of my coffee, and then a blue river of energy flowed out of her chest and into mine.”

He remembered perfectly how it looked and how it had shocked him to his bones. The beautiful silver-blue radiating from her heart, like mist over the Sidra, and found its way home to his chest.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Mor exclaimed, her voice breaking the tranquility of the library, as she gestured to the piles of books surrounding them.

“Sorry,” Azriel said. “I’ve been a little distracted.”

He had been. Everytime he turned the page his mind kept wandering back to Elain, and once he started to think of Elain he began to feel her. He could feel how amazingly soft her lips were, how pliant her body was as it pressed against him, and then he could see the two of them tangled in sheets while her cries of pleasure rang through the air. There were multiple times when his thoughts became so vivid he ran the risk of ruining his pants, and he looked around to make sure that no one had noticed where his mind went. The images he saw were so real, and so familiar that he would have sworn they were memories somehow. And the way he saw them was different too because they felt as if they came to him from an outside source— almost similar to how Rhysand would talk to him, mind to mind.

Mor’s delicate golden brows furrowed as she lost herself in thought. Azriel could practically see a faelight go off in her mind at the way her expression brightened. She started digging through the books, flinging some over her shoulders which his shadows had to catch. Eventually, she found what she had been looking for, and started flipping through a blue leather bound book that was in much better shape than the others. A smile spread across her face as she read a passage.

“Here.” Mor said as she handed the book to him, an unusual gentleness of her face.

Azriel accepted the book. His body went unnaturally still as he looked at a section entitled “The Bonds of The Mother”. His hazel eyes churned as he studied every word.

Not much is known about the bonds crafted by the Mother other than the fact that they are rare. While bonds of the Cauldron often are matches of strengths and more often than not created to ensure the continuation of the fae race, it is speculated that a bond created of the Mother shows a pairing of two souls perfect for each other. Two fae that are bonded by the Mother were created for each other, complimentary in every way, with their souls destined to find each other. Soul Bonds, which is the proper name of a bond the Mother creates, appear as a silver-blue light; they are only in place when both fae accept each other completely and wholly. One aspect of the Soul Bond that distinguishes it from the Mating Bond, is that both fae must accept some form of nourishment in order for the bond to be fully accepted. The Mother, having dominion over females, may cause the soul bond to have a more physical effect on females than males, which also separates the Soul Bond from the Mating Bond. It should be known that the acceptance of a Soul Bond nulls any other bond that may or may not be present, while it is highly unlikely it is possible to have multiple Mating Bonds which is not so for Soul Bonds. The acceptance of a Soul Bond nullifies any bond or spell which may connect two fae.

“Azriel!” A cheerful voice disturbed his reading. Azriel looked up, slightly annoyed at being interrupted, to see a familiar red-head poker her head around a bookcase. “Did you come to visit me?” Gwyn shot him a smile — one that he was sure would have been charming if he didn’t have a soul bond. She stepped into view.

He had a soul bond.

The shadowsinger shook his head and said, “I have to leave. May I take this with me?” He asked in a rush. He had to get Elain and let her know, a small wave of trepidation passed through him as he thought of how she reacted to Lucien and the mating bond. Azriel sent a prayer to the Mother, please, please let Elain accept the Soul Bond.

“Of course,” Gwyn said with a small frown. “You’re leaving so soon?” Her teal eyes finally looked at what aisle he was in and understanding dawned on her face.

“I’ll be here,” Mor chirped from behind Az. “Cleaning up so Lover Boy can go find the love of his life. I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure he owes me big time.”

Azriel stood there anxiously, just wanting to deal with Mor and Gwyn later, he had to go see Elain. As soon as Gwyn stepped out of the way Azriel left — determined to find his perfect half.

#elain archeron #elain acotar #elriel fanfic #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elriel #azriel #after the ceremony #after the ceremony chapter 4 #my fanfiction #my work

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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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more of ghost!dream! what can i say, i love this au a lot. here are the previous parts [1] and [2] if you want to read them first - this picks up right after last time, again :D

tws: death, grief (as per usual for this au), very briefly mentioned torture/abuse (what quacktiy’s been doing in pandora), prison arc/pandora’s vault, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms (c!sam is still very emotionally repressed, go figure)

Maybe he should’ve carried the kid; it probably would’ve been quicker, at least. Fran sidled up to him, tossing her head easily as she brushed against his leg. When he looked down, she seemed to be staring at him judgmentally.

“What?”

She barked sharply, prompting a sleepy mumble from the kid trailing behind them, and Sam rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. Arguing with a dog now, really? You really are losing it.

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost,” Sam sighed again, cutting himself off before he said something he regretted. The words were colder than he intended as it was, making the kid flinch from the corner of his eye, and something in him stirred uncomfortably at the sight, far more familiar than he wanted to admit. Fran’s eyes were dark as she kept staring at him, feet padding softly against the grass as she nudged against him again.

What do you want me to do?

She held his gaze for a second longer before turning around, tail flicking to the side as she made her way to the shimmering image of the kid following them. Figure it out.

He huffed, making a small hissing sound through his teeth, ignoring the way his cheeks heated in embarrassment. He knew he was...cold, to say the least, had gotten used to everyone’s strange looks and shuffles away from him quickly enough. The prison left no room for vulnerability, not when every mechanism, every ounce of power in the prison, every person on the server was left in his hands, not when he was the only one standing in between the greatest danger that they had ever known and the peace that they had fought tooth and nail for. He’d learned how to lock every part of himself in a maze of redstone and blackstone and obsidian, learned how to hide away under layers of netherite and a metal mask. And- perhaps, at first, he’d flinched away from the slight fear in Puffy’s eyes, the hesitance in Tommy’s voice, the way that Ponk-

He swallowed, moving faster. He wasn’t going to think about him right now.

He was cold. He’d been cold as the Warden and he was cold, now, because he’d been the Warden for so long that he’d forgotten how to be anything else, because the walls that he’d thrown up between the part of him that lived under the sun and never wore more than a gold chestplate and the part of him that knew nothing but an endless checkerboard of grey and black had cracked over the days and weeks and months spent pacing, restless, around the same black box, from every piercing word Quackity spoke, from the bone-deep exhaustion that he could never shake. Fran barked again, behind him, and the kid giggled softly, the sound bright and weightless and warm; the weight of the mask on his face suddenly felt oppressive, and his hand came to brush against the polished edges. What did his voice sound like, warm? Did he even remember?

“Sammy!” He stumbled to a stop, the voice in his ears still unfamiliar in its familiarity, adrenaline making his heart flutter, “Slow down! You’re goin’ too fast!”

He stopped, not realizing he was holding his breath until he felt something- someone, right, knock into the back of his legs. He turned himself around carefully, finding the kid staring up at him with big, drooping eyes.

“M’tired,” he mumbled, leaning forward to put more of his weight on Sam, stumbling slightly when Sam drew backwards. “We’re almos’ there, right?”

“...yeah,” Sam looked away, pointedly looking over his shoulder to avoid having to meet the kid’s gaze, eyes finding the stone face of the mountain that he’d made into his home. “Just a few more minutes.”

“‘Kay,” he stepped back, arms coming down to his sides from where they’d been wrapped around Sam’s waist, and the weight that had suddenly settled over his ribcage eased off as well, finally letting him breathe. He began to turn back forwards so they could continue their walk and finally actually get inside the base when he felt something tug at his hoodie sleeve.

He watched, with something a little like a mix of muted horror and fascination as Dream grabbed his hand, carefully threading his fingers one by one in between Sam’s own until his hand was loosely clasped around the ghost’s, beaming at his accomplishment as he squeezed his hand firmly. It was something he’d done before, with Bad’s never-ending insistence that they stay together for safety at the slightest sight of danger and Sam usually relegated to wrangle the younger kids as one of the older and more “responsible” in the group, and the familiar weight of Dream’s hand in his own had him choking on memories he’d half-forgotten.

“Sammy?”

Even as a ghost, his grip was tight; there would be no way for Sam to ease his hand away without alerting him of his intentions. He swallowed around the thickness in his throat, feeling Fran walk up to his other side and circle around his legs.

“Let’s go.” His voice was rough, though the mask probably distorted it too much for it to be too noticeable. He pressed his shoulders back, let his right hand hang as a dead weight as the ghost swung it back and forth, humming idly as he did so.

“We’re almost there,” he said, looking forward towards his mountain, its western face shining golden by the setting sun, and didn’t know if he was talking to the ghost by his side or himself.

---

Thankfully, the actual process of getting into his base ended up being much simpler than the walk back to it. The sight of the various redstone mechanisms - hoeing the dirt and having a door appear from nowhere, especially - had the kid thoroughly perked up from where he’d been half-asleep by Sam’s side, and he’d fired off question after question as they made their way inside. The excitement was an easy distraction and he latched onto it with maybe a little too much enthusiasm, giving off-hand explanations as he dug through his chests for wool and wood.

The ghost, just as he’d always been, was an endless fountain of curiosity, following eagerly to look at his automatic potion brewer and sugarcane farm and furnace set-up, face scrunching in confusion when Sam tried explaining any of the redstone but watching intently anyway. Fran, seemingly exhausted from the walk - which, admittedly, had ended up being much longer than any of them expected - had almost immediately padded off to her room to sleep, leaving Sam alone with an all-too excitable ghost and far too many questions that weren’t going to get answers any time soon.

As the kid finally took a second away from running around to watch, fascinated, as the minecart in Sam’s furnaces dutifully circled back and forth with a few stacks of cobble that he’d thrown in there to smelt as a demonstration, he let himself step away, dragging a hand across his face with a low hiss of distress. He hadn’t thought of the possibility of Dream coming back as a ghost, honestly, had hardly thought about the future at all beyond the need for Quackity and himself to keep their mouths shut. It was an oversight, in hindsight, and he was lucky that he was the one to stumble on the kid instead of virtually anyone else on the server, but now-

Sam turned, watched as the kid rocked back and forth while watching the minecart make another round around the track. What was he supposed to do, now?

He would have to keep Dream here, obviously. All of the work that he and Big Q had put in to keep their actions secret could be blown with one careless pair of eyes on the newest phantom of the server; it’s not like they were particularly hard dots to connect. Speaking of Q, Sam felt the same uneasy prickle of something crawling up his spine, and he shook his head to clear it. It would probably be best if his business partner didn’t learn about this...complication, either, or at least not until he had a little more figured out. So it was left to Sam, in the end, to figure out what happened to the kid and to watch over him, as it always did; prime, there must’ve been someone out there laughing at the irony, making sure that he’d never be able to escape the seeming never-ending task of watching the same person.

It was fine. It would be- easier, this time, as long as he stayed far away from the rest of the Greater SMP. It’s not like anyone would notice anything different, considering how much time he’d been spending in the prison for the last few months, and at least his charge would be more willing to stay in one place than last time. All he had to do was keep them sufficiently out of the others’ prying eyes, at least until he and Quackity figured out a suitable explanation for the prisoner’s death to give to the others. Until then, his job was the same as it had been for months; of course, there were differences, but at its essence, did they really matter? Dead or alive, black walls or grey, he was still the Warden and Dream his...responsibility.

It would be fine. The ghost didn’t even remember anyone else; keeping him in one place would be easy. He’d been the Warden of Pandora’s Vault for months, what was a little time watching over a kid? An amnesiac ghost at that, naïve and far too trusting - it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Right?

---

They ended up converting George’s abandoned room into a bedroom, of sorts, for the ghost. He’d been fascinated with the door going inside, had played with it for a couple minutes before his earlier exhaustion caught up to him and he’d settled on top of the bed, watching as Sam hastily brushed off dust and made the room semi-presentable. It was largely empty; he’d added some initial furnishings when he first built it, but George never really officially moved in, ended up caught up with one thing or another until everything went down on the Sixteenth, and everything since then had been so thoroughly chaotic on both ends that he really hadn’t bothered checking in on either Sapnap or George, leaving both of their rooms to do little more than collect dust. He ran his fingers over the blue-green planks, regret washing over him suddenly like a bucket of cold water thrown over his head. When had all of them grown apart? When did their home become this?

His hands slammed a little too hard on the next bookshelf he came too, eliciting a sharp gasp from the ghost behind him. He whirled around, winced at the sight of the kid cringing, a hand clasped firmly over his ear, and forced the tenseness out of his shoulders with a heavy sigh. The tiredness, it seemed, did more than make the ghost a little quieter and less excitable than the kid in his memories. Sam moved to the next bookshelf, running a damp cloth over the top edge; there was a newfound skittishness to him, an unfamiliar tendency to jump at loud noises and sudden movements. He’d always been cautious, masked even in Sam’s earliest memories, but there had always been a boldness that simply...didn’t exist anymore.

“I’ll leave you to it, alright?” He looked back, watching as the ghost ducked under the pink covers - he hadn’t been able to find anything other than a couple blocks of pink wool in his chest from who knows how long ago - and moving towards the door.

“G’dnigh’, Sammy.”

His voice was soft and sweet, and the cold feeling from before was back, a block of ice nestled in his chest that he couldn’t get out.

“...goodnight, Dream.”

#long post #ghost!dream au #tw torture #tw abuse #tw unhealthy relationship #tw death #tw grief #pandora's vault #prison arc #tw unhealthy coping mechanism #my writing :D #my asks !!

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

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REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around.

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic.

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them.

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately.

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin.

This has been going on for days now.

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work.

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you.

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away.

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell.

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house.

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon.

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out.

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting.

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely."

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend.

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight.

Or ever. Forever sounds good.

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky.

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire.

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules.

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on.

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future.

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet.

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse."

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is.

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam.

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you.

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King.

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred.

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you.

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?"

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred.

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses.

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house.

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights.

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy.

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either.

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room.

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by.

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow."

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts.

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight.

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance.

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them.

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP.

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky.

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness.

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms.

The sound is coming from Fred's.

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart.

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees.

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him.

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him.

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise.

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me."

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what?

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist."

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively.

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!"

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've -

"I was right. I'm losing you too..."

"Uh, what?"

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you."

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you."

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths."

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better."

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought?

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up.

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now.

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled.

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything."

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session."

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do."

"Mn."

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred.

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze.

"Mn?"

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state.

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all."

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?"

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you."

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated.

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside.

They're going to be alright.

#redacted asmr #fanfic #second pov #they/them pronouns #bright eyes (listener)#frederick #vincent solaire #sam collins #will is mentioned

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1rintooru · 3 years

Text

Little Agreements

Pairing: teacher! Sugawara Koshi x gn! reader

Themes: fluff, enemies to lovers

Word Count: 2k one-shot

Warnings: light swearing - that’s all!

Summary: You and Sugawara are rival teachers at a reputable elementary school. Even though you can hardly stand each other, your students have started shipping you together and it’s just awfully annoying! Little do they know, you’ve been keeping a secret from them the entire time.

a/n: teacher suga is good suga... this was so fun to write and purely self-indulgent - i can't get him outta my fat brain🥴 but enjoy anyways..!

You clicked your pen once. Twice. Three times. Perhaps to an outsider it would appear that you were annoyed – impatient even, but you knew it was nothing more than a habit, much like the restless tapping of your foot or improper care kept to personal belongings. You eyed the worn-down mathematics book that was currently being hastily shoved into a backpack, the spine barely keeping the pages glued together.

“Looks like you’re all set to go,” you proclaimed, putting down your pen and eyeing the student in front you. The boy beamed, yanking the zipper of his backpack shut and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Couldn’t have done it without ya, teach!”

You nodded and smiled appreciatively. You were flattered but you couldn’t take all the credit. The boy you were tutoring for a couple weeks now always claimed he didn’t care for school; you still remembered how he once told you that sports were ‘where it’s at’ – whatever that meant. However, the improved grades paired with the purple shadows under his eyes told you an entirely different story. He’d made his way to the door, his hand already grasping the handle before turning around, an impish grin plastered on his face.

“Even though you and Sugawara-sensei are cute together, we’re still gonna beat your butts!”

You bolted out of your seat and glowered at the young boy.

“Don’t you have other classes to tend to?”

He smirked at your chagrin.

“I’ll see ya around!” he shouted, sending you a quick a wave goodbye before finally leaving the room. You plopped back into your seat upon hearing the door close behind the student, rubbing your temple discontentedly.

Ah. Of course.

How could you forget the school speed quiz? It was an annual event that the school implemented three years ago as a means to motivate students and raise class scores. The idea was that a group of children would be chosen to represent their class and be quizzed on a variety of subjects – the questions becoming increasingly difficult as the game progressed. At the time you sneered at the idea and even complained to the school director that it would only waste funds and resources. Now you were glad that he didn’t listen to you, though he could have skipped laughing in your face. With that being said, the event was a double-edged sword. It made you incredibly happy and filled you with pride seeing students find the joy in learning again, but on the other hand it only exacerbated the teasing comments from the students. They adored seeing you two together and you never could quite wrap your head around it. After all, you and Sugawara were rivals.

Your eyes darted down to your wristwatch: fifteen minutes left until next period. Not a whole lot of time, but just enough to shotgun a coffee and have snack in the solace of the staffroom. You hurriedly tidied the mess on your desk, arranging everything to your liking for the next class before finally stepping out into the bustling commotion of the school hallway. Excited chitter-chatter and non-discreet gossip filled halls as you found yourself surrounded by young children. Each face was familiar and you could have assigned a name to every single one. Even the tall one with fluffy gray hair and gentle brown eyes with the recognizable birthmark.

Wait, no – that’s no child; that’s Sugawara.

He walked towards you with a pep in his step and a bright grin, parting the busy hallway like Moses as students stared at him slack-jawed and awestruck. He was the school celebrity, proven by the sheer number of students that called out to him as he passed – and he loved it. You tried to swerve around him, but it was surprisingly difficult to escape through a sea of grade schoolers.

Damn it, just when you were looking forward to that coffee!

“Here, like I promised.”

Sugawara’s voice rang clearly as he firmly pressed a stack of essays into your hands, the weight of the stack momentarily catching you off guard. Your eyes instinctively scanned the first page laying on top. As per usual, your students performed well in academic pursuits but that wasn’t what bothered you.

“Green glitter gel pen?” you teased, lifting an eyebrow questioningly.

His hazel eyes gleamed confidently. “Hey, we agreed that I would help grade assignments that you couldn’t catch up on – you never said I couldn’t use my colored pens!” He mirrored your teasing lilt before continuing. “Besides, from a psychological standpoint the color green is more uplifting and motivational than a harsh red.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. You both had agreed that you would tutor his students in mathematics and sciences while he would help grade assignments to take some of the workload off your plate. But that didn’t make his claim any more convincing and it only made you roll your eyes disparagingly.

“That pseudo-science is why I’m the one tutoring your students.”

“Geez, point made Y/N!” he scratched his head embarrassedly, the other hand defensively creating a barrier between the two of you.

“Y/L/N,” you quickly corrected him.

Sugawara’s posture visibly deflated at the curtness of your words. As mature and gentle as he was, he had a tendency to have his heart on his sleeve. You felt a little guilty and even considered saying something to mince your words, but the opportunity was stolen from you as a group of young girls skipped past, snickering as they went.

“Oh my god, Y/L/N-sensei and Suga-senpai are flirting again!”

Your secure stance faltered as the unsuspecting comment hit you like a brick, nearly making you drop all your papers. Sugawara’s eyebrow quirked upwards, thoroughly amused by your loss of composure. You hoped that the heat you felt in your face couldn’t be seen from the outside as you gingerly smoothed out the folds of your sweater.

“Suga-senpai?”

Sugawara’s playful grin immediately dropped as he noticed the daggers you glared at him.

“Huh?! A-ah it’s not like I told them to call me that! It – it just kinda happened.”

Seeing him so flustered would normally have made you smile, but you weren’t going to give him any kind of reassurance. Besides, it would have only worked as ammunition for privy students stalking your conversation. So instead, you simply shook your head, an exasperated sigh just barely escaping from your pursed lips.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I have a coffee waiting for me – and you have recess duty, have you already forgotten? So, if you’ll excuse me.”

You gave him a patronizing poke on the shoulder as you moved past him, beelining towards the staffroom.

The two of you were so vastly different in your teaching methods. You took your work seriously and prided yourself in the academic success of your students – your class always scored extraordinarily well. You were stern but incredibly ambitious and dedicated to your craft. Sure, Sugawara was popular with the kids, but playing the role as best friend wasn’t going to help them pass their classes. You failed to understand why most of the schoolchildren were obsessed with you two being an intimate couple; even prior to the school speed quiz event the two of you were rivals. His laissez-faire teaching methods didn’t mesh well with your own – in fact, you resented them. That’s why it was akin to pouring salt into a fresh wound when each year your respective classes tied during the annual event.

You decided to ignore the thought. This year was going to be different.

****

Oh, how you loved being the one responsible for cleanup duty.

At least, that’s what you would say if it weren’t that you were the only one responsible for cleanup duty.

As you watched one of your students – a petite girl with long dark hair – collect a pile of dirt into a plastic dustpan, you began to wonder how Sugawara roped you into this. Again. You and him had a lot of agreements, for the sake of professionalism of course, but this was not one of them. The school day seemed to drudge on forever and you were not spared from any incessant comments, even in its final moments. Ironically, one of your pupils turned into somewhat of a teacher as they explained to you what ‘shipping’ and ‘OTP’ meant.

Why on earth would they consider you and Sugawara something like that?

You dismissed the remaining students after carefully examining the room. The floors were cleaned and the whiteboard was spotless, but the wastebasket hadn’t been emptied and the desk arrangement was crooked. It wasn’t exactly up to par with how you usually left the room, but you were no heathen and you noticed just how lethargic everyone was becoming.

You also needed to find a certain someone that deserved to be chewed out.

That certain someone was found in the school’s gymnasium, excitedly talking to the school volleyball team that was retiring for the night. The frustration you felt immediately melted once you saw how animated Sugawara became as you overheard his motivational tangent. His passion was infectious and easily fired up the young boys in yellow and blue jerseys listening to him.

Was this where Sugawara always disappeared off to?

It was a silly question, really. Seeing him zealously offer game strategies with the biggest grin on his face made the answer obvious. You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling awkward as all the children – and Sugawara – turned to face you. The boy you had tutored earlier today, now clad in a yellow jersey spoke first.

“Well teach, did ya know that Sugawara-sensei was a volleyball player in high school too? He was a setter, believe it or not!”

You could only stare dumbfounded as your eyes bounced back and forth between the braggadocious athlete and a proudly grinning Sugawara. The lack of response on your end began to unnerve the gray-haired man as the corners of his mouth began to twitch downwards and his eyes glossed over with doubt.

You shrugged, “I don’t really see it, honestly.”

The both of them gasped in unison. The young teen stared at you dumbstruck – his jaw would’ve hit the floor if it could, while Sugawara staggered backwards as if a spear had punctured him in the chest.

“She’s a tough cookie, Sugawara-sen–” the teen’s underhanded comment earned him a swift kick from his teacher.

“Well, I think it’s time to call it a night. How about we tidy up and retire for the evening?”

And just like that, Sugawara had roped you into another cleaning duty. Thankfully the volleyball team was still so fired up from his speech earlier that the tidying up went by remarkably fast. Eventually you and him stood alone in the building, after finally saying your goodbyes to the remaining kids.

He looked at you and cocked his head to the side, to which you nodded in response. Perhaps it was a simple unspoken agreement or maybe it was just a force of habit to head home together. Regardless, it was hard to imagine it any other way.

The cool autumn air greeted you the moment you stepped out of the gymnasium. Goosebumps pricked your skin as a crisp autumn breeze embraced you, sending a shiver down your spine. The sky had turned into a watercolor of fiery oranges and deep purples as evening drew closer. You glanced over to Sugawara, nestled in the layers of his scarf and his hands hidden in the pockets of his coat.

“Do you have regrets?”

Sugawara paused, brown and orange leaves twirled with the wind just short before his feet, but that wasn’t what stopped him. He was clearly perplexed by your question.

“Regrets?” He scrunched his nose as though the word itself repulsed him. He dug his hands deeper into the depths of his pockets and his features visibly softened as he pulled out a golden ring. It gleamed magnificently as the rays of the setting sun reflected off the band. Seeing him fit the ring snugly onto his finger prompted you to do the same, pulling out the velvet pouch that protected the ring within it. Sugawara smiled as he watched you slip the ring on, fondness etched into his features as he extended his hand towards you. You happily obliged and entangled your fingers in his.

“How could I ever have regrets with the life I have now?”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #sugawara koshi #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #selfmade

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animemangasoul · 3 years

Text

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

[In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.]

Chapter: 6/10?

"Qui-Gon, what did you do?!"

Qui-Gon's mouth opened and closed. Taking a stumbling step back, he couldn't help but stare. Stare at Obi-Wan who's distress was practically choking the force around him.

How had it come to this?

He'd been so excited to share the good news with his boy. He'd run through the scenario thousand times over in his head. Planned for how he'd approach their conversation, planned for Obi-Wan's inevitable questions; every single one he could think of, he'd even tried to tap into the unifying force; clouded as it was to him, and yet he hadn't foreseen this. Hadn't concluded that his elation and solution would bring his boy nothing but horror.

Qui-Gon didn't understand. No matter how hard he tried to connect the dots; reasons failed him. It was obvious his idea had distressed Obi-Wan greatly, but try as he might, Qui-Gon couldn't understand why.

What was so wrong with Yan taking Obi-Wan under his wing? He was his Grandmaster and Qui-Gon was sure his old Master would care for him. Distant as he was, the older Jedi truly had a good heart, Qui-Gon was sure of it. And Obi-Wan didn't do well with fussing and overt concern anyways, so the partnership at face value should have been acceptable to him, so why wasn't it?

'Maybe,' he thought, his own aguish shrouding his mind. 'Maybe Obi-Wan didn't hear it when I told him that he wouldn't have to leave me?'

Maybe his boy had assumed immediately that if he became Yan's Padawan, he would have to move out and never see Qui-Gon again? He was already so distressed after hearing his Master's name, maybe he didn't hear anything after that?

That could be it, right?

Because why else----

"Qui-Gon! For force's sake, snap out of it!"

Reeling backwards, Qui-Gon blinked furiously against the darkness that had enveloped his vision and Mace's furious face finally came into view. The man was no longer holding Obi-Wan tightly to his chest. Instead he'd put the younger man back on the floor, hand resting atop of his heart and the other providing support for his head.

Qui-Gon had never seen Mace so scared.

"What happened? What did you do? What's wrong with him?"

Mace's emotions were like whiplashes, crashing against his shields with ferocity rarely exhibited by him before, and it was all Qui-Gon could do not to shatter against the onslaught of confusion, fury, pain, worry.

"It's---" he stuttered, eyes finally sinking to the shuddering body of Obi-Wan. The boy was curled towards Mace, face distraught and breath coming in wheezing gasps that hurt Qui-Gon with it's familiarity. "He's having a panic attack." The last words were nothing but a whisper past his lips and as he said them it truly hit Qui-Gon how dire the situation really was.

After all, Obi-Wan's panic attacks were both painful and terrifying experience for his poor boy, and was only through trial and error Qui-Gon finally figured out how to help him. And so instinctively Qui-Gon once again tries to pull up the usual shields to protect Obi-Wan from the onslaught of force presences drowning him. But the minute he tries; reaching out through the force to meld his mind against his Padawan. Trying to pull up the protective walls as swiftly as possible, he knowns. He is met with absolute nothingness, and he knows.

Maybe he had always known, all these weeks. The truth hoovering at the horizon, but no. He hadn't let himself know, not really, not until he tried to pull at that familiar thread. That oh so familiar bond and came up empty.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was no longer his Padawan.

He couldn't help him. He couldn't build his own shields around his boy anymore. He couldn't ward against the terrors that haunted him anymore. Because…. Obi-Wan was no longer his Padawan.

Qui-Gon couldn't protect Obi-Wan because he was no longer his to protect.

And it was, with that revelation, that the ground fell from under him and his knees collapsed to the ground.

It was….. Things were different now. His Obi-Wan, his Obi-Wan, wasn't his anymore.

For the first time for Qui-Gon, it was as if he'd been left stranded on an island. Alone, empty, forgotten.

That gentle pulsing presence in the back of his mind was gone. Replaced now by the blazing sun that was Anakin Skywalker, a sun that was now practically trying to drown him in order to reach through to him in overwhelming worry.

'Mas…ter----Qui-Gon?' It shouted, filling him with echoes of panic. 'Okay?--- You? Mr.--Obi---an? --Wan. Obi---Wan? Oka--?'

Their bond was still fragile, but whenever Ani was scared or worried, his voice grew loud and clear, no matter how broken up it was, Ani always managed to bulldoze his way into mentally communicating with him, and it was that concern, that fear for him, for Obi-Wan that finally managed to pull Qui-Gon out of his own spiralling anguish.

'Snap out of it,' he told himself, shaking away the absolute sadness consuming him. 'Your boys need you.'

Center yourself, acknowledge your emotions and then, release it.

He breathed in, out. And let it all go.

So with that final resolution in mind, he sent a soothing wave of calm towards Anakin 'don't worry about us, we're fine,' before gently closing his side of the bond and taking a deep breath.

Obi-Wan needed him right now. His boy needed him.

"Mace," he forced out, crawling towards the two bodies on the floor; legs not quite managing to carry him, shaking as they were. "You need to help shield him."

"What?" Mace had in the meantime found away to at least calm Obi-Wan a little bit despite being unfamiliar with the kid's condition. It wasn't much, the auburn haired youth still gasping for air, fingers clutching at the Korun man's outer robes. But it was something.

Taking a deep breath, forcing all his worries, all his grief to the very back of his mind where it could trouble him no longer, Qui-Gon rested a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder and lowered his voice to a comforting tone. "Obi-Wan becomes hyper aware of the force signatures around him when he's having a panic attack," he told him softly. "You need to use your bond with him to slowly block them out for him, not fully but so that they are muted and won't bother him as much."

"Of course," Mace said, understanding flashing through his eyes, sending a brief nod of gratitude in his direction he diverted his attention back to the young man in his arms.

The Master of the Order ran a gentle hand through Obi-Wan's wispy locks as he muttered something in a language Qui-Gon didn't quite understand but sounded almost familiar 'Stewjoni?' and slowly, ever so slowly, Obi-Wan's breathing evened out and with a last shuddering breath, the young man fell into a restless sleep. Cheeks flushed red, eyes red rimmed and body still shaking fiercely despite being past the worst of it.

It tugged at Qui-Gon's heart, the sheer vulnerability of his boy; laying there, unconscious, face wet from tears only now drying up. He wanted to reach out and touch him, hold him, banish away the hurt and the pain and make it all better, but he couldn't.

He knew he couldn't.

So instead he watched as Mace gathered his former Padawan into his arms and stood up, the ragged breathing of Obi-Wan the only sound echoing through the walls of the apartment.

"I should get him back to the Halls," he muttered, his eyes only meant for the sleeping young man in his arms. "He was already suffering from force exhaustion, this might set him back for days if not weeks."

There isn't really a shift in tone or even harshness behind Mace's words. In fact the words are spoken with a frank observation, his fellow Master too focused on his Padawan to care much about Qui-Gon who's standing only an armlength away from him and yet, it feels as if Mace is accusing him. Pointing his finger at his chest and digging out all of his failings.

'Wasn't it enough that you had him heal you,' it feels like Mace is saying. 'Now you drain him of his remaining energy? What's wrong with you?'

Mace of course, says nothing of the sort, but it's all Qui-Gon can hear.

"Yes," Qui-Gon finally managed to force out, trying to keep his face an neutral and serene as possible. "I think that's for the best."

A brisk nod in his direction and Mace turned to the door and prepared to walk out.

'No,' Qui-Gon suddenly thought, unconsciously taking a step forward. 'It can't end like this.'

It felt like it was all ending. Right at this very moment. It felt like something big was coming to an end.

It felt like a chapter in his life was closing, and….. Qui-Gon wasn't ready, he wasn't prepared.

'No,' he thought desperately. 'Please no.'

They had spent ten years together, it couldn't end like this.

"Mace," he called out and the other man paused half way out the door. "Mace I--"

But before he could continue, something shifted within the Korun man. Suddenly the calmness that was Mace Windu's force presence flared outward in one uncontrollable burst and through it Qui-Gon could sense rage.

Hot, burning, bone shaking rage. Before whatever emotions that had accidently been let lose got buried just as quickly. And Mace tightly woven defense came back to shroud his true feelings.

"Not now Qui-Gon," the man snapped, tone harsher then the sharp edges of Rimi'ula. "We can talk another time. Now if you will excuse me," Folding Obi-Wan closer to his chest, he disappeared out the door without a backward glance, leaving a forlorn Qui-Gon behind.

'Perhaps,' Qui-Gon thought ruefully, watching his friend vanish. 'That is for the best.'

Maybe a time away from each other to process the happenings of today would allow all of them a momentary respite?

Yeah maybe it would all work itself out somehow.

Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon released his pain into the force before he too left the apartment; in search for his own Padawan this time.

Anakin's bright presence might be just what he needed to ease the throbbing ache in his heart, and Ani was probably worrying himself sick about Obi-Wan and him, so Qui-Gon could assuage his concern as well. This is something he could do.

And for now, that had to be enough.

--------

Several hours later and it's all Mace can do not to storm out of the Halls, find Qui-Gon and strangle the blasted man with his own two hands. He'd kept his emotions under lock and key when Obi-Wan, in the softest tone imaginable, had told him about what had transpired between his former Master and him, but as soon as his new Padawan slipped into a fitful sleep; the result of reoccurring nightmares and overwhelming stress, Mace couldn't hold himself together anymore.

Fingers clenching tightly around the bedframe, he tried to breathe through his anger like he'd been taught so many years ago, but it was impossible. Every time he came to a semblance of balance, he'd remember Qui-Gon's face and it would all come toppling down again.

"He said…. He said he wanted me? But----" Obi-Wan had looked so tired, so heartbroken. So, alone. It was as if Mace was thrown back in time to the day the kid woke up to the news that he'd been repudiated. "He wanted…. Master Dooku to take---me-- in name---- in name only of course and," and there it was, the blank stare Mace had fought so hard to erase. "He said…. he woul--- would train me together, with Anakin." a hitch in his breath. "He said--- I would just have a different Master?" Smiling bleakly, Obi-Wan shrugged. "Master Yan Dooku."

Mace had hugged him then. Pulled the poor shivering kid against his chest and just held on tight. Told him there was nothing in this world and the force could do, to make Mace give him up and it was only with his sincerity ringing through the force, loud and clear that Obi-Wan finally took his words to heart and managed to release his pain into the force. Exhaustion finally winning over and dragging him back under; even as he clung to Mace for dare life until the very last inch of consciousness left him.

Mace stood watch. His own feelings of anger and horror closely buried in his chest, refusing to leave him despite how hard he tried to release them into the force.

Qui-Gon had repudiated Obi-Wan. He'd willingly giving up on his Padawan right before his Knighting Trials. He'd removed his braid without his consent and he hadn't once, been apologetic about it.

And now, now that Mace had stood up and claimed the shattered soul of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon was waltzing back in to ruin what was left of the boy's confidence?

How heartless, how cruel could one Jedi be?

Fury licked at Mace's heart. Anger coursed through his veins, and try as he might, Mace couldn't seem to release it at all into the force. And with each fleck of burning rage he let go off, a bucket full would take it's place.

Sighing, he pressed his face into the railing, hanging on for dare life.

He needed a round of meditation. Maybe he could invite Depa over later tonight. His little Spitfire was good at pulling his emotions apart to find the center of his inner conflict. Perhaps with her help, he could sift through to the core of his anger and with the knowledge finally be able to let go of his less than Jedi like emotions.

Perhaps.

Taking a deep breath, he allowed himself to bask in the golden presence of his new Padawan. Obi-Wan had been sleeping for the past couple of hours; his fitful sleep soon turning into a restful one after Mace wrapped the poor kid in his own force presence once more; noticing how the kid's shields were too weak to keep anything out.

Now Obi-Wan looked more restful than he'd looked when Mace had raced over from the council room to find him slumped over; screaming his lungs out and unable to breathe.

That pleading call still haunted him. He hadn't expected the wail through the force when he'd left the apartment that morning, thinking he'd be back long before Obi-Wan required anything of him. He'd even planned on getting through unpacking his new Padawan's things quickly while the kid was getting his check up with Master Che so they could spend the rest of the day together watching those holodramas Obi-Wan's friends had recommended. So to suddenly be disturbed in the middle of his last meeting by a terrified call through the force, it had been…… he still felt shaken by the thought of it.

He should have been more careful. He should have known Qui-Gon would seek Obi-Wan out again now that he was out of the Halls. He should have known. His old friend was nothing if not persistent and Mace should have known.

But he hadn't and now----

Squeezing his eyes shut, he banished the thoughts. 'For another day,' he told himself.

Right now he needed to focus on Obi-Wan's well being and sinking into his own distress and failings wouldn't do his Padawan any good. Especially since the kid seemed to be sensitive to his moods now with his shields practically gone.

Reaching out, Mace carefully brushed his finger between the kid's brows until his worry line disappeared. He smiled to himself.

But then, when Obi-Wan let out a soft sigh, leaning into his featherlight touch, something within his heart crumbled.

Mace continued to stroke his Padawan's forehead until his own stress faded away and all he was left with was absolute and utter fondness for the sleeping young man in his care.

And then….

His eyes snapped back open; where he most have closed them sometime during his brief calming moment with his Padawan. His lips pulling back into a snare.

And he was out of his chair faster than a humanoid could blink, storming past Master Che who's presence near Obi-Wan's room was all too evident on who'd just arrived to pay a visit.

"Mace," she called out after him, voice high in warning. "Don't."

But he was done listening. He'd given the other man plenty of chances. Had tried to understand where he was coming from. Had tried to avoid him when that hadn't worked, and had buried himself in his own guilt and ignorance when that hadn't been enough either. But now----

Qui-Gon had gone behind his back and tried to force his Padawan on Master Yan Dooku.

Mace was done being understanding. He was done being kind. Old friend or not, Qui-Gon had no right to be here. No right at all.

"Mace!"

He shrugged the head healer off, force shoved the double doors open with a bang and with ten long strides had Qui-Gon by the front of his robes and up against the wall. "What are you doing here?" he snarled.

"Hello Mace," Qui-Gon smiled pleasantly, face serene as ever, voice nothing but gentle understanding and eyes crinkling at the corners with friendliness.

It grinded on Mace's nerve, that false serenity. He'd known the man long enough to detect his real feelings and right now it was anything but peaceful. "I came to check on Obi-Wan. How is he doing?"

"That is," Mace glared. "Frankly non of your business." Fingers still tightly gripping the man's outer robes, in no hurry to let him go.

Something unreadable flashed through Qui-Gon's eyes, his whole frame stiffening, but then it eased away and his old friend sent him a reassuring smile. "You most know I worry about him."

Mace scoffed. "You repudiated him."

Qui-Gon flinched and the Korun man shoved down any sense of vindication that burst through him at that reaction.

"I had to," his fellow Master said, voice no louder than a whisper; both Masters vaguely aware of the gathering crowds Master Che was trying to shoo away from the Halls. "The prophesy---"

"Kriff the prophesy," Mace snarled, slamming him against the wall, eyes blazing with bottomless fury. "Kriff your prophesy Qui-Gon! You abandoned him!"

"I didn't, I had a plan!"

"A plan?"

'Don't hit him,' he begged of himself. 'Please don't hit him. You're the Master of the Order, anger does not become you. Do.not.hit.him.'

Oh, how much he wanted to hit him.

"Yes a plan. Yan would take him as his Padawan officially and--"

"You would do the actual training," the acid dripping from his words would make even Mace wince any other day. "Yes, I heard it all from your traumatized former Padawan who you," he said, shaking the man. "Have not only thrown away, but now made him believe that you most saddle him on someone else because he's no one's first choice."

Qui-Gon's eyes widened. "That's not what I intended to do!"

"It doesn't matter what you intended to do," Mace said, shoving him even harder, face only inches away from him. "It only matters what you actions show and so far, all you've done is kriff over the kid, Qui-Gon." Unclenching his fist he took a step back. "Since day one in fact."

"That's not fair." The sadness in Qui-Gon's voice could be tasted through the force. "I wasn't ready for a Padawan back then and you all knew it. Yoda forced me to take him despite knowing I wasn't ready. The council did that," he said, eyes swimming with sadness and years of bitterness. "Not me. You did that."

Guilt washed over Mace at those words and he took another step back. "You're right. Obi-Wan should have never been forced on you."

"That's not--"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Let me finish. He shouldn't have been forced on you. Yoda was wrong--" He swallowed thickly he continued. "I disagreed with him, but I still went along with it so I was wrong too. We have all failed that kid and by extension, you. But Qui-Gon, you were an adult." Clenching his fists Mace tried to release his emotions into the force. "You failed him as well. Several times over. If only I'd known how much you didn't want him. If only I had seen how less than ready you were. But we trusted you to act like a Jedi, to know that if you saw yourself truly unfit to handle a Padawan you would take the appropriate steps to fix it. But you didn't and each time you didn't, you managed to ship away at his self esteem, his confidence---" swallowing again, Mace gritted his teeth and looked down. "Why didn't you just let him go?"

"What?"

"Clearly you weren't ready for a new Padawan, and I looked through your files last week Qui-Gon. You never attended your mandatory mind healing sessions, so if you didn't think you were ready for Obi-Wan, why did you hold on to him? Why didn't you just let him go? Someone else would have taken him, you most have known that, so why?

Qui-Gon froze, not moving a muscle as his face went through several expressions. From anger to grief, to confusion and finally to aching desperation. "He needed me," he said, almost pulling into himself. "No one else--- Xanatos he….. But Obi-Wan needed me and I just, he made me better Mace," he whispered, hands shaking slightly at his side. "He made me better and I made him stronger and…. We needed each other. Assigning him to me was the right choice. It was. Just now, the prophesy---"

Mace shook his head slowly, heart breaking all over again, eyes stinging because…. How had Master Yoda missed all this? Qui-Gon was his Grandpadawan, this was his call and that meant both Master and Padawan fell under his jurisdiction. How had he missed such a mismatched pair? How had he never sounded the alarm?

This was terrifying to watch. Qui-Gon's desperation, his inability to see how wrong it was of him to lean on a child for mental support.

How had so many people missed it?

He'd missed it himself. Sure he'd only been a newly appointed Council Member at that time, not having much say in the choices and the decisions made by the older members, but he could have kept a closer eye, could have listened and paid better attention. But he hadn't and now----

"Obi-Wan is no replacement for Xanatos," he said, firmly. "Just because Xanatos didn't need you anymore and fell to the darkside does not mean you can replace his sudden void with Obi-Wan. That's not fair to him or you."

The flash of anger that lashed out at him through the force almost made him stagger. "How dare you," Qui-Gon roared. "I wasn't trying to replace Obi-Wan with Xanatos, I would never! Obi-Wan was never like him. He would never betray me!"

"So you betrayed him instead?"

Mace had said the words calmly, or as calm as he could manage, but the pettiness behind them, was obvious to him, and by the way Qui-Gon reeled back as if slapped they had the intended effect too. Mace should feel guilty for causing a fellow Jedi pain, but knowing what he knew now. Knowing how twisted this Jedi pairing had been from the start, how Xanatos shadow hoovered over Obi-Wan before the kid even had a chance to prove himself, it made any guilt Mace might have felt any other time, non-existent. Later he would have to examine his feelings and meditate on them, but right now---

"I didn't betray him." Qui-Gon snapped back. "I'm following the will of the force. Anakin needs training."

"And you know that how!"

Throwing his hands in the air, Qui-Gon was practically fuming at the mouth; the familiar argument grating on both their nerves. "I told you! The force is guiding me!"

Mace snorted. "And you think you're the only one who understands the force? The only one the force speaks to? How do you know your own bias isn't clouding your judgement?"

"How do you know it isn't clouding yours?!"

It was like being slapped in the face. Mace stared. "What?"

"I said," Qui-Gon huffed, a tiny edge of bitterness bleeding through his voice. "How do you know you aren't being biased as well? You're so deeply connected with the Unifying force, you cannot see what's right in front of you. So how would you know Anakin shouldn't be trained?"

"I'm not the only one, Qui-Gon," Mace said. "Anakin's future is clouded, filled with darkness and he's too old. How can you stand there and say your interpretation of the force is more correct than the entire council? Can you see something no one else in the council can see? Can you see past the darkness clouding all our visions?" Mace couldn't have sounded more skeptical if he tried, but by the resolute stiffness to Qui-Gon's frame, the man truly believed this to be the case.

"Yes my friend," he said, eyebrows heaving upward. "I'm guided by the will of the force. After all," he smiled; it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm more connected to the Living force than any other Jedi."

This level of certainty, this unshakable assurance that you can never be wrong was truly terrifying, and the fact that, wrong as he had been many times over; Xanatos the most obvious example, Qui-Gon had yet admit to any of it, yet to accept any failings, made Mace worry for the future of his old friend.

So taking a deep breath, he squared his jaw, crossed his arms and said without any regret, "If the will of the force was guiding you. Has been guiding you this entire time, shouldn't it have warned you about Xanatos?"

Qui-Gon lurched back, eyes widening in disbelief before bared his teeth in anger. Any semblance of friendliness and serenity gone with the wind. "How dare you," he hissed.

Mace glared. "When you elect you play games with my Padawan's life, I dare, every time."

"Obi-Wan is not your Padawan--"

"Yes," Mace snapped. "Yes he is."

"No," Qui-Gon growled back. "He isn't. Not yet. And Obi-Wan is a Senior Padawan, you're a council member Mace, you won't have time train him."

"I will make time," Mace gritted out. "And I will see him to Knighthood Qui-Gon Jinn, so don't get in my way."

"I have trained him for ten years Mace, don't you think I know what's best for him!"

Staring in disbelief at his old friend, Mace briefly wondered how it was possible to be that delusional. Hadn't their catastrophic conversation so far taught this man anything?

"You haven't gotten over Xanatos----" he said, keeping his voice low even though; thank the force for Vokara Che, the hallways were now blissfully empty. "And that's why you should have let obi-wan go. You're a Jedi Master, an adult, Qui-Gon. It was your responsibility to put the needs of Obi-Wan ahead of your own. It didn't matter how much he might have needed you," raising his voice to stop the other from interrupting him, he carried on forcefully. "If you knew you weren't equipped to provide for him the way you were supposed to, the way a Master was supposed to, you should have come to the council and let us assign another Master to him. The Jedi council failed him," he continued, painful as it was to admit. "But you failed him as well old friend, and the only one unwilling to admit to any fault here, is you."

It should have been obvious.

It should have been clear.

Mace could see it. Weeks in the other's shoes and he could see it.

The mistakes of the Jedi council, the mistakes of Master Yoda, his own by not noticing the walking trauma that was his best friend. So many mistakes, so so many.

But it wasn't too late to right wrongs, and Mace was willing to. It looked like Master Yoda was willing as well, surprising, seeing how stubborn the old troll could be about his own views. So to see Qui-Gon standing right in front of him, talking about these alarming issues as if they were trivial. Speaking as though with a wave of a hand he could fix it all, it……

Mace didn't understand.

"Obi-Wan needs me Mace."

"No," Mace said, turning away from him. "He doesn't. Not anymore."

He would have left it at that, but when a strong hand came to descend on his shoulder; gripping him hard, he swung back around, eyes blazing, the final threads of his meticulously crafted composure fraying at the edges and------

"Enough!"

They froze, simultaneously turning to lock eyes with the Grandmaster of the Order.

"Jedi, you are," he said, slamming his gimer stick on the ground. "Act like it, you will."

Making his tense shoulders relax slowly, Mace dropped his balled fist; forcing himself not to think about the immature action he was just about to take. "My apologize Grandmaster," he said, inclining his head ever so slightly in his direction as an apology. "I let my emotions get the best of me."

He refused to look at Qui-Gon and by the way the other Jedi had also turned away from him the feeling was most certainly mutual.

'Good,' he thought. 'If I ever see him anywhere near Obi-Wan ever again no Jedi Code is going to stop me from hitting him.'

'Breathe,' he then told himself, releasing his frustration and the embarrassment at being caught into the force. 'You're the Master of the Order, act like it. Your years of recklessness are behind you.'

After observing for an agonizing long minute, the Grandmaster nodded to himself.

"Come with me you will, Qui-Gon. And you," Master Yoda said, pointing his stick at Mace. "Tend to your Padawan you shall. Need you he does."

Qui-Gon stiffened. "Master Yoda I---"

"Come," the old Grandmaster said, already walking away. "Much to talk about we have. Embarrassed yourself in front of many Jedi you both did, bring it up with the council I will."

Mace flushed but he refused to feel bad about it, not when Qui-Gon still refused to accept how detrimental he was to himself and others, especially to Obi-Wan.

"Leave Mace to his duties you most. Come Qui-Gon."

Realizing how futile it was to argue with the green troll, Qui-Gon seemed to deflate in on himself, shoulders sagging in annoyed resignation before he clasped his hands under his sleeves; eerily similar to Obi-Wan and trudged after his Grandmaster.

Mace watched them walk away but just as it was almost too late to say any lasting words, he spoke up.

"Qui-Gon," He called out just as both Master's were about to disappear down the west wing. "Unless Obi-Wan asks for you personally, don't come back." And with that he turned on his heels and stepped back into the Halls not caring for whatever answer Master Jinn might have had for him in return.

The End

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

#obi wan kenobi #star wars fanfic #obi wan fanfic #mace windu #qui gon jinn #qui gon a+ parenting #fanfic #yawowh chapter 6 #fic #star wars #star wars prequels #you are wanted obi-wan kenobi

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on-maars · 3 years

Text

I’ve never had a home (until you came around)

So I wrote a fic, it’s long so maybe you’ll be more comfortable reading it on ao3

Thank you @cyllaeth for being patient enough to re-read the whole thing (and also for being available 24/7 to freak out over these two)

It’s a quiet day. The station is silent and Buck is spread out on the couch, a book in his hand. A mystery book. Chimney recommended it to him the other day but Buck’s never been a big reader, for as long as he can remember. He finds it too hard, to stay focused and stay still for several hours in a row. He needs action. He needs to move, stay busy and as much as he would love to finish this book so he can share his opinions with his friend, today is just not the day.

He’s been feeling restless, fidgety during the whole day and of course it had to happen during one of his most boring shifts. Not that Buck doesn’t appreciate the silence. He does. It actually feels nice to have some time to rest and relax, for a change. He even managed to take a nap in the beginning of the afternoon but now that his batteries are recharged, he’s desperately waiting for a call.

He sighs and tries to bring his attention back to his book but gives up after a few seconds. He’s been reading the same paragraph for more than twenty minutes and if you’d ask him, he would be incapable of telling you what’s the main plot of the book. He sees the words, he reads them but it’s like his brain can’t process a single thing.

He lets the book fall on the couch and sweeps the room with his eyes. There’s Chimney, seated at the kitchen’s table, still reading the same parenting book, a highlighter in his right hand. Hen, who seems as focused as his friend – if not more – her eyes squint in concentration as she writes some words on her notebook, most likely still revising for her big exam coming up. There’s Bobby quietly busying himself in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the whole team.

And then there’s Eddie. Eddie, sprawled on the other side of the sofa, looking at Buck with an amused expression on his face. Buck raises his eyebrows at him in confusion but his best-friend just shrugs his shoulders and looks away.

“I’m bored.” Buck sighs, defeated.

“Just read your damn book, Buckley.” Chimney says from where he’s seated. “I can hear you wriggling on the couch for the past ten minutes, you’re making me nervous.”

Buck rolls his eyes and throws a pillow at his face before taking his cellphone out of his jean’s pocket. There’s a message from Carla and a big smile breaks in on his face when his eyes fall on a picture of a (more than unstable) Lego house, accompanied by a small text.

“Bucky, I just built a new lego house!! (this is Christopher)”

“Looking good, superman!”

“God I love that kid so much.” Buck says, the words coming out of his mouth of their own accord. This earns him a confused look from Eddie who instantly straightens up when Buck lends him his phone, and it only takes a few seconds for a soft smile to appear on his friend’s face as well.

“He just answered.” Eddie adds, handing him his phone back to him.

“Can you come home this week-end so we can build the fire station together?”

“You got it!”

“You can come over on Sunday if you want.” Eddie offers and Buck only nods, mirroring his smile.

“You know I can’t say no to my favorite Diaz.” He answers.

“You’re spoiling him too much.” Eddie reproaches him while nudging him playfully. And Buck doesn’t feel that restless anymore. He feels good, warm, and tries very hard to think about anything else but the intimacy he’s suddenly sharing with his best-friend, whether it be the way their knees touch, the way Eddie’s hand feels on his wrist, his thumb tracing slow circles on his skin, or the way his own heart pound against his chest, so hard and so fast he feels it might explode.

That moment only lasts a few seconds. A couple of minutes, at most, until they all gathered around the table to share lunch. The atmosphere is calm, serene, but Buck’s head is spinning and he’s afraid. Afraid to look up and catch Eddie’s eyes, afraid to do something that can give him away, afraid to say something which may be deemed inappropriate. Because the truth is, when it comes to his best-friend, he doesn’t know what is appropriate and what isn’t anymore. Their relationship has always been very intimate, sure, but it feels to Buck that it has just reached another milestone.

That’s why he’s not prepared when Eddie says these next few words.

“I asked her out. Ana. She said yes.” He says, and Buck’s mind goes blank.

She said yes. Of course she did – he thinks. Who would say no? Who would say no to his kind, sweet, caring and stupidly hot best-friend? They’d be crazy not to – he wants to say, but once again his words get stuck in his throat and he just fakes a smile instead. Faking smiles to avoid any awkward conversations. He can do that. He’s been doing that for years.

“You did?” Hen asks, his eyebrows raised, seemingly surprised.

“That’s… That’s cool man. I guess.” Chimney adds, but the whole atmosphere has changed. It’s not calm anymore. It’s dense, heavy, filled with a sense of bitterness no-one dares to question. It’s common knowledge now that Buck is helplessly and desperately in love with his best-friend, it’s not a secret and Buck gave up on trying to hide it from his colleagues a long time ago. After all, he’s never been very good at keeping this kind of things to himself, never been very subtle, but Eddie is Eddie and Buck doesn’t know if his best-friend’s inability to see the signs comes from a place of denial or simple obliviousness, but what’s the point now? He’s moving on.

“Buck?” Eddie asks and Buck jumps with surprise. He looks up at his best-friend and smiles widely.

“That’s awesome man.” He says, and tries to muster all the confidence he can get, but that’s a wasted effort and his best-friend is already watching him with confusion. Confusion and worry.

“Are you okay?” He asks. And Buck wants to shake his head no. Because of course he isn’t, but what can he say? It’s too late, now. And so he just clears his throat and gets up, ignoring the way Hen looks at him with compassion. “I- I just need some air.” He says, turning around, but stops dead in his track when Eddie’s hand stops him from getting further by encircling his wrist, softly.

“Hey.” Eddie says and his voice is so soft Buck wants to scream. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I just need- I just need some air.” He repeats, and rushes down the stairs.

He steps out of the station and keeps walking until he reaches a small bench. He sits down and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He looks up at the sky, his eyes bright with tears he’s been trying to hold back for the past ten minutes.

“You’re okay, Buck?” Bobby asks from behind, and Buck quickly wipes his tears with the sleeve of his jacket, turning his head around to hide himself from his Captain.

“I’m fine.” He says. “I’m fine.”

“Hey, none of that with me, alright?” Bobby adds, and takes a seat next to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you just tell him, kid?”

“I never thought I needed to.” Buck answers. And that’s probably the worst part. For a year now, he was convinced that him and Eddie were on the same page. There seemed to be a secret agreement between them and that was enough for Buck.

We’re not together officially but god forbids we date anyone else. That was the deal. Or so he thought. They were raising his son together. Buck was Christopher’s emergency contact, they were practically living together, the signs were there and they were clear. How could Eddie not see them?

“Maybe it’s time you use a more direct approach.”

“I’m not so sure how more direct I can be, Bobby. The guy’s just clueless. I’m pretty sure I could tell him I love him to his face and he would still find a way to make it sound completely platonic.”

Bobby huffs out a laugh. “You really do, don’t you? Love him, I mean.” He asks with a small smile. “I thought it was just a crush but it’s a lot more than that, isn’t it?”

Buck stares at Bobby for a few seconds, until he lowers his head with a sheepish smile.

“Of course it’s more than that.” He says. “Bobby, Christopher and Eddie… They’re it for me. There’ll never be anyone else, I mean it’s Eds, you know? He’s… He’s my soulmate.”

“Then don’t give up until it’s too late, alright?” Bobby answers, holding his gaze. “Cause trust me you still have time.”

Buck doesn’t answer anything and keeps his head down. They sit together for a while until the bell rings. And just like that, Buck puts his feelings aside and focuses on the task at hand.

---

It turns out Ana is great, and that’s probably the worst part now that Buck thinks about it. It would have been easier not to be on board with their relationship if she was inconsiderate, insensitive or straight-up rude. But no. She’s sweet, caring and nothing but kind to him and Buck doesn’t even find it in him to hate her. Eddie seems to love her a whole lot already and if his best-friend loves her, then he owes it to him to be happy for him, right? It only makes sense. What kind of friend would he be otherwise? What kind of friend would that make of him? A poor one, to say the least.

He’s seated at the table in Eddie’s kitchen, Christopher by his side. This one has been strangely quiet for the whole dinner and Buck wonders whether he missed out on something. He’s nibbling at his peas, his eyes fixed on his plate and his usual very cheerful demeanor has been replaced by a sullen one. His shoulders are slumped, but not by choice, Buck knows that kid well enough to see that something is bothering him, something so big he seems to struggle to carry the weight on his own.

“So Buck.” Ana starts and Buck looks up at her with a smile. “How did you two meet?”

“Oh uh we met at work.” He says, finding it weird that she doesn’t already know the answer to that question. “He was a new recruit.”

“He used to hate me.” Eddie says with a smile, nudging him playfully.

“Shut up, I didn’t hate you I was just feeling-”

“Threatened?” Eddie cuts him off, mocking him. Buck huffs out a laugh and cradles his chin with his right hand to make him look away. Because there’s really no need for his best-friend to notice how his cheeks start to redden now, is there?

“You think you’re so funny.” He adds.

“Bucky is dad’s best friend.” Christopher says out of the blue, holding his fork tight around his fingers, his eyes fixed on Ana.

“I thought I was yours!” Buck exclaims, faking being hurt by pressing his hand over his mouth in shock. This earns him a small laugh from Christopher who vigorously nods.

“Well his second best-friend, then.” He corrects himself. “And they love each other very much.” He adds, firmly, almost as if he’s trying to prove a point. Buck frowns for a few seconds but eventually nods at him, making sure Christopher knows he agrees with him on every point.

“We’re all very close.” Buck adds, conversationally.

“The 118 really is like a big family, isn’t it?” Ana asks. “Edmundo talks a lot about you guys.”

Edmundo. That may be the only thing Buck doesn’t like about her and from the way Eddie flinches next to him, he suspects he’s not the only one. He only hums approvingly and lets his eyes fall on his best-friend. He finds it weird, how Eddie acts around Ana. He finds it weird and unsettling. And at first, Buck only thought it was because he was meeting her for the first time and Eddie really wanted both of them to get along. Which made sense. They were best-friends after all, and Buck would probably feel the same way if he was in his shoes.

But now that he takes a closer look at him, Buck realizes that it’s not it. Eddie looks doubtful, hesitant, unsure, almost as if he’s dancing to another tune. He smiles and laughs and acts the same but something just feels off, wrong. It’s like he’s there but not quite, like his brain is working too fast and he has trouble catching up. His gestures lack of confidence, Buck can sometimes see him trying to reach out to Ana but his hand often stops midway, stays motionless for a few seconds until Eddie brings it back on his thigh, biting his lower lip. And Buck gets the willingness to impress the other person and makes sure that everything goes well, but it’s like Eddie is playing a character and that, Buck can’t get behind.

Ana is talking about her role as a vice-principal and Buck is only half-listening, not because the conversation isn’t interesting but because he’s too deep into his thoughts to focus on what she’s saying.

“Dad?” Christopher asks after a while, the slice of prune pie still left untouched on his plate. “Can I go back to my room?”

“Try and eat a bit before, alright?”

“I’m not hungry.” Christopher answers, and Buck holds back a smile when Eddie watches his son with a knowing look. You’re still hungry, you just don’t like the pie Ms Flores baked, don’t try to fool me. That’s what Eddie’s saying; Buck has become an expert in knowing how to understand non-verbal communication between the Diaz boys throughout the years and this time isn’t any different.

“Fine I just don’t like it, it’s gross.” Christopher says, his voice indifferent.

“Christopher!” Eddie exclaims, pointing the finger at him.

“I’m going to my room.” He repeats, getting up and leaving the kitchen without looking back. A heavy silence slowly settles in the kitchen and Buck wastes no time to get up as well.

“I’m gonna check up on him.” He says, placing a comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder, not missing the way all the tension seems to melt away from his body at the touch.

Buck stands up and lets his hand linger a bit more on Eddie’s back, leaving the kitchen with a sigh. When he gets to Christopher’s room, this one is seated on the ground, his back facing him. A few books are lying around next to him and a whole box of Legos has been spilled on the carpet. Buck takes a few steps forward and knocks on the door a few times, smiling at him when Christopher looks up.

“Hey, is it okay if I come in?” He asks, waiting for Christopher to nod to sit down cross-legged next to him, leaning his back on the bed. “You okay in there, buddy?”

“No.” Christopher’s voice is low and filled with an animosity Buck’s not used to hear.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t like her.” He says, and Buck frowns.

"You don’t like Ms Flores?” He asks, and Christopher nods again, sticking two Legos bricks together. “Why? I thought she was your favorite teacher, back then.”

“She was. I like her as a teacher, not as dad’s girlfriend.” He says. “I don’t understand why she needs to be around all the time. I like it better when it’s just the three of us.”

“I like that too buddy but your dad and her like each other very much, you know? That’s why they’re spending so much time together. But I’m always going to be around, okay? The thing we have, the three of us? It’s not going to go away. I promise. I’ll always be there.” He explains, but from the way Christopher bites his lower lip and keeps his head down, he can see he’s still unsure.

“But I don’t think she makes dad happy, Buck.” He adds.

“You don’t?”

“No. Not as much as you do. He’s always so happy when you’re here. You make him smile, and laugh. I like him better when he’s with you. When he’s with her, he’s weird. He doesn’t act the same way, I don’t like it. And she always uses complicated words and the conversations are boring and she never plays with me. And she doesn’t know how to do the voices when she’s reading a story. You’re the only one who knows how to do it.”

Buck sighs and runs one of his hands through his hair, not knowing how to extricate himself from that situation without giving himself away. Because Christopher might be a kid but he’s far from being stupid, or naive.

“You tried telling what you just told me to your dad?” He tries.

“Why can’t you just be the one who stays?” Christopher asks and ignores his question. “I don’t understand why you can’t be the one who stays.” He repeats and his voice is louder than it was a few seconds ago. “We don’t need her with us, we need you.”

“Chris, your dad and I… We’re best friends. We’re best-friends and we like each other very much but sometimes… Sometimes, a person needs more. Sometimes, it’s not enough.” He says, closing his eyes to try and stay focused.

“But you’re enough!” Christopher says. “You are and I know dad thinks the same. He loves you.”

“He told you that?”

“He doesn’t need to, I just know.” Christopher shrugs his shoulders. “He’s more like himself when he’s with you. He’s smiling and laughing and he’s always looking at you the same way he used to look at mom when she was still around. He doesn’t look at her like this. He never did. And I hope he never does.” He adds and Buck lowers his head down, cursing himself mentally.

“Listen Chris, me and your dad, we… We can’t have what your mom and dad used to have.”

“Why?” He asks, confusion clearly shown on his face.

“Well, because I’m a man and-”

“But if he’s looking at you the same way he used to look at mom, why does it matter if you’re a man or not? My friend Amy at school, she has two dads. I know it’s possible, and you love my dad. I know you do.”

“I-” Buck tries but his words get stuck in his throat once again, and he never thought a nine-year-old kid would manage to back him into a corner like that and yet here he is. “It’s – It’s complicated, buddie.”

“It’s not. It’s only complicated because you’re an adult and adults always like to say that everything is complicated when they don’t want to explain stuff to kids. But it’s not. It’s easy. You’re always looking at him. When you come for the movie nights, you’re always the one who make dinner for us because we love your cooking. You hug him every time you leave our house and you do the same things with me that mom used to do. You’re helping me with my homework, you’re telling me a story every time I go to bed and you’re always making me feel better when I’m sad.”

“When did you become so smart?” Buck asks, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

“So you do love him.” Christopher says. “You love my dad.” He adds, placing one of his hands on Buck’s cheek.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes but you said I was smart. If you think I’m smart, then it means I’m right. You love my dad.”

Buck huffs out a laugh and smiles when Christopher wraps both of his arms around his neck.

“If you love him, you should tell him.” He says. “Carla always tells me that if you love someone, then you should tell them.”

“And I should listen to Carla, right?” Buck asks.

“You should always listen to Carla.” Christopher rectifies. “That’s what my dad says.”

“Alright then.” He answers, tousling his hair. “Then I’ll try. I promise.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell him anything.”

–--

When Buck gets back to the living-room, Ana is gone and Eddie is back to his usual self. Disheveled hair, his sleeves rolled up and the few first buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. His posture is more relaxed and natural, the tension has disappeared from his shoulders and it’s like he’s breathing again.

He’s clearing the table and Buck joins him, wiping the plates and the silverware while Eddie handles the washing part.

“Ana left?”

“She did, I- I kinda asked her to, I wanted to make sure Christopher’s okay.” Eddie says, his voice filled with worry. “He doesn’t like her very much, does he?”

“It’s- It’s not that.” Buck says, trying to figure out what’s the best way to act right now. “He’s just… He’s just adjusting, Eds, and- you don’t need to rush into this, you know?”

“You think I’m rushing into this?” Eddie asks, looking up at him in search of reassurance.

Buck sighs and looks down at the plate in his hands, wondering what to say. Telling him the truth is not an option, at least not right now. He can see his best-friend’s head is filled with unanswered questions and doubts and the last thing Buck wants is to give him another reason to panic and overthink, and saying I’m in love with you and I really wish you would stop trying so hard to play a role that doesn’t look anything like you when you’re with her because it’s making me everyone uncomfortable is probably not the way to go.

“Maybe?” Buck says, carefully.

“Buck.” Eddie starts, exasperated. “Straight to the point, please?”

“Look, I… I just don’t understand what you’re trying to prove, here.” He answers, placing the dried plate in the cupboard.

“I’m not trying to prove anything, but Bobby told me I should start taking advantages of the opportunities that are right in front of me and that’s what I’m doing. I’m dating Ana. She’s nice. I like her.”

“Who are you trying to convince here, me or yourself?” Buck asks. “He really said that? Bobby, I mean? And you think he was talking about Ana?”

“Well if not her, who else? She was right in front of me during that call.”

Buck huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. It’s like the universe is screaming at you. And you refuse to listen. That’s what he said to him that day and Buck has to refrain himself from repeating these exact same words.

“Listen Eds. All I’m saying is that you don’t need to pretend to be someone that you’re not when you’re with her. You shouldn’t have to do that for a relationship to work. And I get it. I do. I get the will to impress her but that’s not what this is about here, Eds.” He says. “Christopher sees it too, you know.”

Eddie whirls his head around. “He said that to you?”

“Not in these actual words.” Buck precises. “But that was the overall idea, I think.” He adds. “It’s a big change for him, I guess he just needs time to… To adjust.”

“Should I go talk to him?” Eddie asks and that’s just another thing that makes Buck want to scream. The way Eddie always comes to him for parental advice as if Buck’s as involved in raising Christopher as he is, as if Buck is as entitled as he is to take decisions concerning Christopher’s well being. It makes him hope for something bigger, makes him hope for something greater, makes him hope for something he knows he can’t have.

“I don’t know Eds.” He still says after a while. “He probably needs some time alone.”

“Alright.” Eddie agrees, leaning against the kitchen counter, the dish towel placed on his right shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Well I should probably head back.” Buck says with a smile. “I’m pretty tired and it’s a big shift tomorrow.”

“Drive safe.” Eddie answers and wraps his arms around his back to bring him closer. Buck rests his chin on his right shoulder and closes his eyes for a few seconds, sighing in relief. Because as much as he would like for them to stop being so intimate, a part of him is simply always going to be drawn to him, and when Eddie moves his hand from his back to his neck, letting his fingers play with the roots of his hair, Buck is pretty sure the universe is ganging up against him.

---

It starts slowly, so slowly Buck doesn’t really think anything of it, at first. After all, it’s only texts. Texts that Eddie doesn’t answer to, texts that Eddie ignores. It’s nothing much, nothing worth arguing over and the last thing Buck wants is to sound possessive or excessive, and so he says nothing.

But then days turn into weeks and it’s just not texts anymore, it’s calls that are ignored, movie nights that are canceled and Buck tries to stay calm, he tries very hard to stay calm and clear-headed but he can’t shake off the feeling that he’s being left out from what used to be his safe place. And that’s something Buck could have handled, that’s something Buck could have faced but what’s intolerable for him is that he promised Christopher that things would never change, that he wouldn’t go away, and yet that’s exactly what’s happening. And Buck hates himself for it.

“It’s not gonna last.” Hen says one day when they’re both seated at the kitchen’s table inside the fire station. They had shared a lunch together and Eddie had taken the opportunity to formally introduce Ana to the team. Nothing quite out of the ordinary – Buck thinks, if it isn’t for the fact that once again, Eddie didn’t look like himself the whole time Ana was there. “I mean don’t get me wrong Ana’s awesome but that’s just not gonna last.” She repeats, once Eddie left the station to walk Ana back to her car.

“Ditto.” Chimney only says as he’s taking a seat next to them. “There’s no chemistry there, trust me.”

“So it’s like that, now?” Buck asks with a knowing smile. “You have a kid and all of a sudden you’re an expert in loving relationships?”

“You really don’t need to be an expert to see that it’s not gonna work.” Hen intervenes. “What are your thoughts, Cap?”

“If this is something Eddie wants to pursue then we should trust his judgment.” Bobby says carefully but the hesitant expression on his face says otherwise.

“But?” Hen asks. “We get it you’re nice but tell us what you really think.”

“Well let’s just say when I told Eddie to take advantage of the opportunities that were right in front of him, I didn’t necessarily mean Ana.” He admits, his eyes on Buck.

Buck shrugs his shoulders and looks down with a sad smile. “Yeah no offense but I don’t think he got that part, Cap.”

“He will.” Bobby affirms.

“Yeah I’m not so sure about that.” Buck contradicts him. “She’s already more around than me and I- Look I promised Christopher I wouldn’t go anywhere cause he’s freaking out about the whole thing but this is exactly what’s happening right now. He’s moving on. And there’s no place for me there anymore, which – you know – it’s fine. I should have seen this coming. But it still hurts, and I don’t mind me hurting but I know Christopher’s hurting as well and that I- I can’t stand it, Cap. I just can’t.”

“Then tell him, Buck.” Bobby advises. “Tell Eddie.”

“Tell me what?” Eddie says from behind. Buck whirls his head around but it doesn’t seem like Eddie heard more than that and he lets out a relieved sigh.

“I just-” Buck stops mid-sentence and only goes on when Hen sends him an encouraging smile. “I was just wondering if we could do something with Christopher someday. It’s been a while and… Well I miss the kid.” He adds and Eddie’s face instantly softens.

“Of course we can. You have anything in mind?”

“Well there’s this space museum not far from here. It’s still a one hour drive but you know I- I figured we could give it a try.” Eddie smiles and instantly nods, taking his phone from his back pocket.

“Great. I’ll ask Ana if she’s down for it.”

As soon as these few words are out in the open, a heavy silence settles in the room. Buck bites his lower lip and looks down at his feet with a sigh, Chimney snorts and Hen lifts her hand to her forehead in embarrassment.

“… Or not.” Eddie says after he reads the room, putting his phone down on the table. “Just the three of us?” He asks and Buck looks up at him with a hopeful expression.

“If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay Buck, I-” Eddie starts and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “God, I’ve been an ass, haven’t I?”

Buck dismisses it with a hand’s gesture. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” Eddie says, shaking his head. “It’s not and I’m sorry.” He adds. “Can you… Can you guys give us a moment?” He asks, and Hen instantly gets up and gestures at Chimney to do the same. When Buck turns his head, they’re both gone and Bobby is already seated in his office, probably busy with some paperwork. He’s alone with Eddie. “Alright I’m listening.”

“Listening to what?” Buck asks him, confused.

“Listening to you telling me how much I fucked up as a friend.”

“You didn’t fuck u-”

“Buck.” Eddie cuts him off, firmly resolved to hear what’s on Buck’s mind. Buck holds his gaze for a few seconds, looking for a way out, but looks down and sighs in defeat.

“Eddie it’s fine.” He says. “You were probably busy with Ana and I know what it’s like to have the impression that your life only resolved around the other person at first, it’s- As I said. It’s fine. And you know I probably should have seen thi-”

“No.” Eddie cuts in again, placing one of his hands on Buck’s shoulder. “You’re not getting out of that one by blaming yourself, okay? Now tell me. What did I do wrong?”

“You ignored my texts.” Buck says, shrugging his shoulders like it’s not a big deal but Eddie keeps staring at him and encouraging him to say more and what the hell? - Buck thinks. His best-friend is the one looking for confrontation here and he’d be damned if he didn’t take the opportunity to get it all of his chest. “You ignored my calls.” He adds. “You canceled movie nights two times because you had plans with Ana – which is fine cause you’re allowed to do that but damn Eddie, Christopher made me promise that I wouldn’t go anywhere, he made me promise that things wouldn’t change if you started dating Ana and look at us, now. I’m barely coming over to your house anymore. It’s been one week and a half since I last saw him and you know damn well that I love this kid like he was my own and I hate myself for letting him go through that.”

“What else?” Eddie asks, his eyes already bright with tears.

“You shut me out, Eddie.” Buck answers, looking up at him, his eyes filled with a determination that scares him. “You shut me out.” He repeats but slower, this time.

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Lonely.” Buck answers honestly. “Angry. Sad. Confused. But mostly lonely.”

“Why is that?” Eddie asks and Buck huffs out a laugh, looking up at him incredulously.

“What do you think?” He answers and his tone comes out harsher than he intended and Eddie looks up at him in surprise. “I’ve never had a home, Eddie.” He adds, and his voice breaks. “I’ve never had a home until you came around. Even with my parents I felt like a stranger in my own house. And I know I said that the 118 has always felt like a family to me and I mean it but you and Chris? You gave me a home, Eds.” Buck says. "I mean I- I love you, alright?”

“And we love you too.” Eddie answers, cupping his cheeks with his hands. “We do, and you’re always going to be a part of this family, okay? I promise. I’m sorry I acted like a jerk.” He adds, bringing his lips to his forehead and Buck swears he can feel his heart cracked open at the touch. “Listen I promised Ana I would get dinner with her tonight but how do you feel about spending some time with Christopher?”

“I’d like that.” Buck says with a smile.

“I promise I won’t be long” Eddie adds. “And tomorrow we can go to that space museum. Just the three of us. Deal?”

“Deal.”

---

When Eddie goes back home after their shit, he has to witness Buck breaking down in tears and hugging Christopher close to his chest. Christopher had his eyes closed and from the way he’s clinging on to Buck, there is no doubt in Eddie’s mind that Buck’s absence had left a large void in his son’s life. And his heart breaks at the sight.

Bucky you’re home – Christopher had said to him, his chin rested on his right shoulder.

You’re home – Eddie repeats quietly to himself as he makes his way over to Ana’s house. He knocks on the door a few times and smiles at her when she opens it, taking a step to the side to let him in. She guides him to the couch and immediately starts to talk about his day as a vice-principal, which is usually something Eddie would try and listen with the greatest attention, but not today. Not today. Today, Christopher and Buck’s words are being played over and over again in his head and Eddie’s mind is a thousand miles away from that room.

Bucky you’re home.

I’ve never had a home until you came around.

You and Chris? You gave me a home, Eds.

I’m not home – Eddie suddenly thinks to himself.

“I’m sorry?” Ana asks, confused and Eddie whirls his head around when he realizes he just said those words out loud. “You’re not home?”

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

Home. It became such a strange concept for Eddie along the years. A constant evolution. In the first few years of his life, home was wherever his parents were. His childhood house, a cabin in the mountains during Christmas’ holiday, a tent in the middle of the forest. It didn’t matter where he was, as long as he was there with his parents, and his sisters.

And then he met Shannon and suddenly the word ‘home’ wasn’t only resolving around his parents and his sisters anymore. It became a bit larger to include her and then Christopher. His son was already his whole world back then and Eddie would have done anything for him.

But then Afghanistan happened and his life in Texas started to be tainted by arguments and harsh words. And so Eddie fled, convincing himself that maybe the army could become his new home. But god, was he wrong, and he quickly was hit by the realization that he would never really be home if Christopher wasn’t by his side.

And sure he considers the 118 as his family but his home? His home is with Christopher.

Eddie doesn’t really know when Buck first entered into the equation.

Maybe it’s when he first met Chris and that these two instantly hit it off. Maybe it’s when Buckley-Diaz movie nights became a thing. Maybe it’s when Buck helped him build a skateboard for his son or maybe it’s when he saved him from a tsunami.

Maybe it’s a combination of all these examples and a thousand more, and to be perfectly honest Eddie doesn’t really care because Buck is there now and he doesn’t want him going anywhere.

After all, people always say that home is where the heart is.

And Eddie’s heart? Eddie’s heart is with Buck. With Christopher first, but then Buck.

So no. “I’m not home.” Eddie repeats, his eyes lowered to the ground. “I – I’m sorry Ana but I – I can’t do this anymore. Us. It’s not going to work. I wanted it to work and I thought it would but it won’t. I’m sorry.”

“Edmundo.” Ana sighs, placing her hand on his thigh.

“Eddie.” He answers. “It’s Eddie. Not Edmundo.” He adds. “I really am sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. Hell, you’ve almost been perfect but-”

“But I can’t compete with him.” She finishes for him and Eddie whirls his head around, his eyes wide.

“How can you- you’ve only seen him twice.”

“Then it must really says a lot about what he feels about you.” Ana answers, smiling sadly. "He looks at you like you’re his whole world. And sometimes, you’re looking at him the exact same way.”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose and looks down, sighing. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m sorry I swear I didn’t mean to lead you on, I really thought I was doing the right thing. But I wasn’t, and to be perfectly honest with you, Ana, I haven’t – I haven’t really been myself around you. You make me nervous all the time and I feel like – I feel like I have to become someone else when I’m with you. At first I thought it was just the nerves of starting a new relationship but… But weeks passed and it’s still there. I’m trying too hard and I’m not sure – I’m not sure it’s the right way to go.” He admits. “With him, it’s easy. It’s always been easy and maybe that’s the problem. It’s always been so easy that I – that I never took the time to wonder if there was something more going on.”

“And there is?” Ana smiles at him and this time it’s not sad, it’s sincere, honest.

“I think so.” Eddie admits, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, of course there is. Definitely.”

“Then you should go tell him that.” Ana answers.

“I can stay.” Eddie instantly says. “We had planned this for a while and I”

“You want to be with him.” She cuts him off. “Edm – Eddie. I love you. But if your happiness lies with him then I’m not going to put myself between you and him. Go.” She adds, and seems taken aback when Eddie wraps his arms around her back. She rests her chin on his shoulder and lets herself enjoy the intimacy.

“We can finish that conversation anytime, alright?” Eddie says, standing up. “We could get a coffee next week and get everything off our chests once and for all. How does that sound?”

“That sounds good.” Ana smiles.

Eddie waves at her one last time and rushes out of the house. He steps in his truck and starts driving. His head is spinning and his heart is pounding against his chest but he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. This is what’s been missing. This is what’s been missing all these years. Buck. The missing part of the puzzle.

Eddie parks next to Buck’s car and stays motionless for a while before feeling brave enough to get out of his truck and walks towards his house. He stops at the front door and closes his eyes, only for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath and lowers the handle. He steps in and here he is. Buck. His best-friend is standing up behind the kitchen’s counter, seemingly busing preparing pizza dough.

It’s only when Eddie closes the door behind him that Buck looks up at him, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Eddie?” He asks. “I thought you had a date night with Ana.”

“I did.” Eddie says with a smile. He takes a few steps towards him. “I cut it short.”

“Why?” Buck is still frowning but Eddie can note a slight glimmer of hope crossing his eyes.

“She wasn’t the person I wanted to spend the evening with.” Eddie only says and before he knows it, he’s pressing Buck against the fridge, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss. His left hand cradles his chin and he places the other on the back of his neck. A startled noise comes out of Buck’s mouth but it only takes him a few seconds to kiss him back with just as much passion, his thumbs on his cheeks and the rest of his fingers running through his hair. Eddie smiles against his lips and moves his hands from his face to his waist, bringing him closer.

When they break apart, Buck’s hair is disheveled, his cheeks red and his lips swollen and Eddie huffs out a small laugh, his right hand grabbing onto his shirt tight, his eyes closed.

“God I’ve been so stup-”

“Shut up.” Buck cuts him off by pressing their lips together another time. The kiss is gentler this time, slower, and when Buck pulls at his hair a bit, Eddie can’t stop a small whimper from slipping out past his lips. “Wait.” Buck says, pushing him a little by placing his hand on his chest. “What about Ana?”

“I broke up with her.” Eddie instantly says, chasing his lips another time but Buck is faster and stops him from doing so by changing their positions and being the one having him pressed against the fridge.

“Why?” Buck asks.

“Because I’m in love with you.” Eddie answers so simply and that seems to be enough for Buck who lashes forward and crashes their lips together and Eddie would lie if he said he didn’t like being pressed against the fridge like that. He moves his mouth from Buck’s lips to his jaw, his neck, but stops dead in his track when a voice resonates from behind.

“You did it.” Christopher says and they jump away from each other, getting the creases out of their shirts in embarrassment. Eddie’s eyes fall on Christopher but his son only has eyes for Buck. “You told him.” He adds and a large smile breaks in on his face.

“I did.” Buck answers and huffs out a laugh when Christopher comes to him and wraps his arms around his legs. He takes him in his arms and hugs him, his eyes still fixed on Eddie.

I’ll explain later – Buck mouths to him silently with a smile.

Eddie only nods and his face softens when Christopher buries his face in the crook of Buck’s neck. It only lasts a few seconds, though, and when his son’s eyes fall on him, a small laugh escapes his lips.

“Dad, you have flour all over your hair.” He says, and Eddie runs his hands in his curls, smiling when the white powder falls on the flour. Buck looks up at him and smiles apologetically at him but Eddie dismisses it with a hand’s gesture and wraps his arms around the both of them. He sighs in relief and breathes in the scent of Buck’s after shave and Christopher’s shampoo and thinks to himself:

This is exactly where I want to be.

“Welcome back home, Buck.”

#buddie #9-1-1 #buddie fic #911 #my writing #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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mashiraostail · 4 years

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Can I get Gang Orca, Aizawa, Present Mic and Midnight with an S/O who gets really awful nightmares and has a hard time coming out of it when they wake up? (Needing to be reminded where they are, getting sick, etc?)

yea for sure!! thanks for the req! ((me appearing and spamming as a treat for writing a whole paper in one sitting)) TW vomit mention under the cut

Kugo Sakamata: Kugo always knew you to be a restless sleeper, ever since you started spending nights together he’d often wake up with you in a far different position from the one you’d started the night in while he stayed mostly unchanged. He didn’t attribute it to much beyond normal variations in the way people slept, of course until you started having the nightmares when you were in bed with him. He wasn’t a particularly deep sleeper, though he’d adjusted well enough to your tossing and turning, but the gasp and the way you seemed to spring up from bed was unusual enough to stir him. “What’s the matter?” He turns over to face you. “No-” You’re shaking your head, “no, no, no, no-” “Hey.” He sits up, “hey you were having a nightmare, you were just having a nightmare it’s okay, it’s fine-” He reaches out for you but is careful not to touch, the last thing he wants is to startle you anymore. “No-” You say it again, “no no I don’t I- what’s going on?” You didn’t look like you even recognized your own bedroom or your own boyfriend for that matter, and he was hard to forget even on his worst days. “What’s happening- who- I-” You look around nervously, hands clamped into two tight, shaking fist. “You were just asleep,” He tries to calm you, to pull you back down to earth, “you’re in bed you’re with me. It’s just Kugo. You know who I am, It’s Kugo. Say my name back to me, take a deep breath.” “Kugo?” Your eyes are wet with big blobs of salty tears when you look up at him and your lips are chewed bright red. But you sound so happy to see him as if you didn’t get into bed with him barely 5 hours ago. “Yeah, it’s Kugo.” He soothes, honestly a little bit relieved himself, “it’s just me.” You grab ahold of his wrists where they hover in the space between your bodies and he takes that as an invitation into your space, pulling you close to him, under his arm, and into his chest. “Just Kugo-” You barely whisper it and he nods and offers a quiet hum of affirmation, he other arm coming around you, “it’s just me and you. Whatever it was it’s over now, it wasn’t real. It can’t hurt you, I’m here.”

Shouta Aizawa: Intentionally or not he usually stayed up a fair bit later than you, sitting up in bed getting some last-minute grading or paperwork done for the next day while you snored beside him, sometimes curled up around his waist, other times not. He noticed a fair bit about you in these times, you talked in your sleep, sometimes indiscernible mutters, but other times they were clear and obviously distressed. In these times he’d usually just put a hand on you, not to wake you up just to ground you, it usually worked in quieting you. You also moved around a fair bit, he didn’t think much of it though, and if you were a little too restless for his liking he could normally wrap and arm around you, or throw one over your stomach and it’d keep you in place fine. Though tonight you seemed to be sleeping fine. You were laying on your side next to him as he sat up, cross-legged, and scrutinizing Mineta's mostly illegible handwriting, they really need to have a talk about this. If you didn’t look so comfortable he’d wake you up and ask you to give reading this a shot, you were better at it than he was, but you really did look all too comfortable. Until you were shooting up like your life depended on it, chest taking in a huge heaving breath. Honestly, it started him, he dropped the paper, and the small stack beside him fell onto the floor with his pen. “Oh my god,” You gasp, “holy fuck-” “Hey, it was just a-” “No.” You shake your head, “no, no I can’t do it-” threading your fingers nervously through your mussed hair, “I can’t do it again I can’t go back in there I’ll-” you choke on your words. You looked thoroughly lost, totally confused, unsure of everything and so utterly panicked by it. Like you were about to drown despite the lack of water surrounding you. Tears fell freely, easily, like they’d save you somehow, like a lifeline. He couldn’t begin to imagine what you’d seen. “Hey.” His voice is loud, but firm and grounding, “look at me.” You jump at the sound of him, you were so confused you couldn’t even feel his presence beside you and look over to him. “It was just a nightmare. You’re safe.” “Where am I-” You just looked more panicked at the sight of him, like he was some stranger you’d met at a bar and not your partner of multiple years, you looked at him like he was a major miscalculation on your part and not the guy you were constantly grinning at and confessing your love to. “We’re at my place.” His voice gets softer now that he had your attention, the last thing he needed was to frighten you anymore. “It’s Shouta hey, you know me. Come on, you know me, remember? It’s just Shou, that’s all. I’m not gonna hurt you.” “Shouta-” The sigh that leaves your lips is borderline heartbreaking. The way your face shifts from that resentment from before, the nervous confusion and anger to the sheer thankfulness on it now is enough to make him think whatever you dreamed about must not have been too far from what had been a reality for you before. You looked at him like he’d saved your life. “Yeah, that’s it, Shouta. It’s only me, you know me. Remember?” “I know you.” You nod as his hand comes down on your back. “It was just a dream. Just a bad dream.” He squeezes your shoulder and lets you fall sideways onto him, “a nightmare.” His arms come fully around you. “That’s all it was. It wasn’t real.” He presses his face into your mussed hair, “it’s just me and you, nothing’s gonna hurt you, it wasn’t real.” Hizashi Yamada: You were a notoriously uneasy sleeper. Hizashi was a notoriously deep sleeper. Honestly, it was a match made in heaven if you asked anyone. Sure you’d go to sleep at night all cuddled up to one another but by the next morning one of you would be fully on top of the other, you weren’t sure who the drool on your shirt belonged to, but you didn’t really care either way. Hizashi knew you had the occasional nightmare, but he figured most people did. He knew he’d had his own fair share of them, especially in the years after he graduated high school. He didn’t mind being shaken up by you if you were nervous or upset by a bad dream, he thought it was cute honestly, even in his groggy and tired state. But you didn’t wake him up tonight. He was a deep sleeper sure, but if you got out of bed without telling him he’d wake up for sure, the lack of your presence was louder than any cars honking outside or noisy neighbors stomping around above. When he rolled over and didn’t have something solid to grab onto of course he woke up. What else was a guy to do? He sits up. “Hey, babe?” He calls it into the empty room, voice gruff and thick with sleep. There isn’t a response. “Babe?” He’s a little worried, it is his job to assume the worst-case scenario, even if he isn’t as gloom and doom as some of his colleagues his mind always goes there first too. When he hears coughing it doesn’t do much to help. He gets out of bed and rubs his eyes which are still bleary with sleep, though the rest of him was alert as normal. The bathroom door is wide open, and the light is on. “Hey, babe are you alright?” He doesn’t wanna look inside, so he stops a little behind the entrance, “can I come in?” It sounds like your sick, which is worlds better than his previous worst-case scenarios. He can hear the heaving, groaning, “I’m coming in okay?” Sure enough there you are, on the ground by the toilet, one arm slung over it as you returned all the contents of your stomach to the world. “Hey, god why didn’t you wake me up-” He’s rushing to your side but you don’t look happy to see him at all, instead you’re scrambling back into the wall. “No please I-” “Hey, what?” Hizashi holds his hands up in mock surrender, “I’ve seen worse than vomit it doesn’t gross me out if you’re worried-” “go away please I can’t do it I-” “Do what? Babe, what are you talking about?” You don’t even look like you know who he is, it’s like you’re seeing a totally different head on his shoulders or something. Whoever you’re seeing, you don’t like them one bit. “Babe it’s Hizashi-” He holds his hand out to you, “what are you so afraid of? There’s no one here but us.” You just lurch back to the toilet bowl. “I’m gonna touch you, okay?” He pins some stray hairs behind your ear, dropping a hand onto your back, rubbing long soothing strokes there as he presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “It’s just Hizashi. You know I’d never hurt you, babe. You know me. ‘s Zashi, you remember now?” You’re nodding meekly into the toilet bowl at his words as your stomach clenches and heaves. “Hizashi-” You choke it out somehow, voice raspy, you just sound desperate for him, for help. “Bad dream?” He drops his forehead onto you and you nod again. “Must have been really awful, huh?” “Terrible.” You barely push the word out and wraps an arm around your back. “I’m sorry. Please wake me up next time, if you can, so I can help, just kick me or something it doesn’t matter.” You nod again as you slump back into him. “It wasn’t real. It was just a dream, it can’t hurt you. I’d never let anything near you like that again.” He presses his face into your neck from his spot behind you. “Let’s get you cleaned up and back into bed, that sound okay? A warm shower might help?” You nod again at that, “it might...I just-” “No, I know, I’ll go with you. I’ll stay with until you fall asleep again.”

Nemuri Kayama: She didn’t mind the tossing and turning, no, what she did mind was how upset you look when you did it. She tried to keep an eye on you when you went to sleep before her, to join you when you looked especially uneasy but she supposed there was no way to really be sure of things like this, the only person who knew when it was an awful nightmare was the person having it. There was no catchall, no surefire way to know how bad it was until you woke her up and asked her for help. But tonight you just shot out of bed, she hadn’t even felt you moving much before. “Angel-” She’s rolling over, groggy still but wanting to offer any comfort she can, it was habitual, but before she could get another word out you were up, “I’m gonna be sick.” You were off down the hall before Nemuri even knew what was what. She’s only a few seconds behind you though, as soon as she’s in the bathroom door saying your name you’re waving her away, shaking your head as you heave up your stomach contents. But it doesn’t feel like you’re embarrassed, it’s not a ‘go away I don’t want you to see me like this’ sort of thing...it’s like you’re afraid, a deer in headlights, confused and so awfully afraid of your own confusion. “Please leave me alone I can’t do it-” You warble it out helplessly like you were just a few grams away from breaking into a million tiny pieces. “No,” She tries to make her voice as soothing as possible, despite her own nerves, “hey no, I’m not gonna hurt you, or make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” She assures you, approaching slowly and kneeling behind you, “I wouldn’t do that to you, I love you.” You’re still shaking your head, eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t-” It’s barely a whimper. “You know who I am don’t you? Where you are? You’re with me, it’s Nemuri, we’re just at home.” She carefully touches your back, feather-light, “you remember? Nemuri? We got take out for dinner and decided to go to bed early today. Whatever has you so shook up..it’s not real. It can’t hurt you, you’re with me.” You’re holding your stomach woefully. “It’s me, Muri, say you remember, come on angel...” She rests her head against you. It’s familiar and mild, you relax at it. Slumping back into her. “Muri-” You hold her arms around you, “thank god.” You sounded so softened like she’d just rescued you from a burning building or something. “It was just a bad dream. A nightmare, that’s all. None of it was real, okay?” You nod weakly at that as you drop your head back, “god.” You groan, “I’m sorry to scare you like that-” “Come on, don’t be sorry about that. You’re the scared one here. I was just worried, it’s okay now though, you’re alright with me. Let’s clean up and get some real rest now, how about that?”

#tw vomit #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #eraser head x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #present mic x reader #present mic #gang orca x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #nemuri kayama x reader #midnight x reader #nemuri kayama #bnha x reader #bnha request

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laurenmm62017 · 3 years

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When You Find Your Answers, I'll Be There Chapter 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31111016

Here's the 2nd chapter! I don't think I nailed Kallus' POV so i appreciate any feedback!

Alexsandr Kallus grew up on Coruscant, the most populous planet in the galaxy. He knew about soulmates before he was even able to walk. He was surrounded on all sides by people talking about soulmates.

He absolutely hated it.

He hated that all he can see are shades of grey just because he hasn’t met someone he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with. He hated that it wasn’t even guaranteed that he and his soulmate would be romantic partners, but they could be simply platonic (which would be fine with him) or even hate each other (which he was less fine with). He hated that he might not even meet his soulmate AT ALL. He hated how all of his family, friends, classmates, and teachers always made such a big deal about soulmates.

He was so tired of it.

Alex was 11 when he was bullied for these views so much that he was cornered after school and beaten up so hard, his ribs were bruised for a solid month afterwards.

He decided then that he would enlist in the Grand Army of the Republic when he came of age. Everything was grey on those giant Venators anyways.

He never really thought about who his soulmate could be. He pushed himself to be as strong, fast, and smart as possible. He pushed himself so hard, he passed out due to exhaustion every night. During a particularly grueling sparring session, he had pushed so hard, that his partner grew enraged and broke his leg to get him to stop fighting. Pain lanced up and down his leg as he screamed and writhed on the ground. Their instructor calmly, almost too calmly, called to the medbay on campus for a stretcher. Alex never really forgot that look of apathy.

When Kallus was 20, The Galactic Civil War ended and the Empire rose to power, with Emperor Palpatine at the helm and his second in command Vader at his side. The Grand Army of the Republic became the Imperial Army, and he was recruited into the ranks as a Commander. It took a long time for ranks and respect to cement into place, but by the time he and his troops went on their first real mission to Onderon, a former base for major rebellions led by Saw Guerrera, he gained the respect of all under his command. He regarded them all as capable soldiers and friends in return.

The mission went south, of course. It turned out that Guerera’s troops hadn’t left the planet yet because they had blown up his company’s transports. Kallus had been knocked out in the first blast, and woke up on his back on the side of the road. He attempted to stand up, but he found that he couldn’t move a single muscle.

Then, slowly, a tall, dark grey Lasat menacingly prowled down the path of destruction, executing every one of the soldiers who were still showing signs of life.

John, Lina, Corbyn, their medic, Stim, everyone.

Kallus’ eyes were as wide as can be, as the Lasat slowly passed by his position.

‘Don’t notice me, don’t notice me, don’t noti-’ He frantically thought, but it was in vain.

The Lasat’s head whipped around to look at him, paralyzed on the ground.

“Well, well, looks like I found the commander of the group. That’s some fancy armor compared to the others, isn’t it?” He purred dangerously. Kallus tried to open his mouth, but found he still couldn’t move.

‘If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.’ He glared up at the Lasat.

“Ooooooh, look at those eyes. Tell me, have you found your soulmate yet, Commander?” He snickered, leveling his weapon at him, some kind of modified electrostaff. “Tell you what? I’m feeling pretty generous tonight, so I’ll let you live. But I gotta make it look good. So what should I do.... Heh, I got it.”

The Lasat swung down on Kallus’ leg and it broke cleanly. Kallus still couldn��t move but the pain of the same leg that broke a few years ago was so excruciating, he passed out.

When he woke up, he was lying in a medical bed. His superior officer, Admiral Yularan, was sitting in a chair at his bedside.

“Good to see you awake, Commander. The medical droids tell me you’ll make a smooth recovery. Whenever you are able, I’d like a full report of what happened down there.”

“My men?”

Yularan shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, my boy. You were the only one we found still alive.”

He looked up at the ceiling, anger, guilt, and fear flooded through him. He felt so helpless. He was caught off guard, and as a result, everyone was dead.

Because of him.

In that moment, on that uncomfortable medical bed, he vowed that this would never happen again.

Kallus was 26 years old when he was recruited into the Imperial Security Bureau on the recommendation of Admiral Yularan. He was trained to be ruthless, unforgiving, and as stoic as a rock. He was first assigned to Internal Affairs in order to keep loyalty to the Empire. He was very good at this job. Because he garnered the respect and loyalty or his coworkers and subordinates, many of them were rather to get in his favor by reporting any disloyalty or traitorous activity to him. He was one of the most successful Agents in ISB at this time. However, he was becoming restless just staying on Coruscant every single cycle. He wanted to get out in the field, and assist the Empire from out in the stars. He requested to be transferred to Investigations.

That was where he first encountered his soulmate.

His Lasat soulmate.

For kriff’s sake, how cruel could the universe be? A Lasat? The very one who slaughtered his first unit? One of the species he helped hunt to extinction. Surely this was a joke.

That first time he made eye contact with him, however, was admittedly magical. The way that color seemed to first saturate within the Lasat’s eyes, and spread to his soft-looking fur, and then to his surroundings made him pause for a moment. He was so captured in his eyes, it was like the galaxy paused just for this moment.

But reality came back as a blaster bolt nearly caught him in the shoulder and he ducked back to cover.

In his free time, he learned the names of the colors of his soulmate. His eyes were bright green. He had light purple fur and dark purple stripes. His jumpsuit is dark green normally, as he rarely could disguise himself. He encountered his soulmate many more times in the span of a few months, but he was never able to capture him or his group of rebels.

And then they somehow crash landed together on that Geonosian ice moon.

Alexsandr sat on the ground, and watched his soulmate, Garazeb Orrelios, member of the Spectre crew, jog towards the Ghost and as his friends poured out of the ship to welcome him back.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall of the cave they had taken shelter in.

“When you find your answers, I’ll be there.”

That is what Zeb had said. But why in the galaxy would he try to find answers to questions he knows he won’t like the answers to?

For himself? For the galaxy? For Zeb?

He knew that no one in the Empire would run out and embrace him like Zeb’s teammates had. The most interaction he will have is with the medical team to fix his leg. He would simply send a report to a superior officer that he would make up.

Kallus was picked up by an Imperial shuttle long after the Ghost left the atmosphere. As he suspected, he is sent to medical, discharged after his leg is set, and sent back to his quarters. No one except Konstantine greeted him on the way back.

Alone in his quarters, he sat down heavily on his bed and stared at the grey floor, walls, bedsheets. It was as if he had never even found his soulmate at all. The only burst of color there was the small meteorite he smuggled back with him.

“It’s the same color as Zeb’s bo-rifle…” He thought, idly stroking his thumb along the crevices in the meteorite.

“I’m going to find my answers, Zeb.”

The next time he saw Zeb in person was right after his escape from the Chimera. He messed up. He got caught, and he caused a huge loss for the Rebellion. Would he really be welcomed into their ranks after everything he had done? He was genuinely not planning to ever join up with them. If he got caught, he figured he would never see the light of day again and he would die as Fulcrum.

He never expected Kanan Jarrus, of all people, to approach him after their first jump into hyperspace.

“Kanan.” He whispered, clutching his arm to his chest and shifting his weight to one leg. It still hurt even after the medical droid looked him over. “Thank you, for taking me in.”

Seeing Kanan this close, without his mask, Alexsandr could see why the Jedi usually wore his green face shield. The scars across his face were much lighter than the rest of his face, jagged and haunting. Kanan placed a hand on his shoulder gently.

“Thank you, for risking everything.”

“It wasn’t that hard. Once I found my answers, it was clear to me.”

“We’re glad to have you, Fulcrum.” Kanan smiled and dropped his hand back down. “Zeb is in the common room, if you want to speak with him. The debriefing is almost over.”

“Thank you. Kanan. And please. My name is Alexsandr.”

He smiled at Alexsandr. “Get in there, Alexsandr.” Then, he continued through the ship with the comfort of someone who has been in a place for a long time.

Alexsandr slowly limped up to the door of the common room, pausing for one moment before he opened the door. Inside was Hera Syndulla, General Dodonna, Sabine Wren, and in the far corner, his soulmate, Garazeb Orrelios. Their eyes met and for a moment, it seemed as if everything fell away. It didn’t matter that he just barely managed to escape from the Empire. It didn’t matter that he had been beaten down over and over. All that mattered was that he was safe here, caught in those sharp, bright green eyes.

Zeb motioned for Alexsandr to stand next to him, and he limped over as fast as he could. He leaned his weight against the wall and Zeb placed his hand right next to his. He could feel the heat radiating off of Zeb, and in that moment, Alexsandr had never felt safer.

“So, did you find your answers?”

“I did.”

#kalluzeb appreciation week #kalluzeb #alexsandr kallus #garazeb orrelios

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seiin-translations · 3 years

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2.43 S1 Chapter 5.1 - Stand By Me

1. NIGHTMARE OR REALITY

This entire chapter (as in the entirety of Chapter 5) is from Haijima’s point of view and honestly it’s surprisingly endearing? That boy truly only lives for volleyball

Also Kuroba’s a dumbass as usual

Previous || Index || Next

When he thought about it, it was obvious, but he realized after he started playing in the position that the setter was the one who could touch the ball the most in a game. In the basic system of volleyball, which was to return the ball within three hits, the setter was the one who always handled the second hit. Not the first hit or the third, but the middle of the series of plays.

The attacker was the ace in volleyball, but Haijima considered himself to be in the “middle” of the game, and he didn’t want to give up his position as the “one who can touch the ball the most” to anyone.

Normally, the reception would be messed up so that the ball wouldn’t return to the setter, but Haijima would run as fast as he could to bring the ball back into his territory. The second hit was his, and he didn’t want to give it anyone else. He then controlled the third hit to be hit by the attacker. If he didn’t do the second hit himself, it would become a high set, but if he did, there were plenty of options for attack. It could be connected to the third hit as a tactic. The movements of the attackers on his team, the positioning of the opponent blocking system and receivers—the movements of all players on the court, both friendly and enemy, were instantly assessed. Haijima’s eyesight was generally poor, but his periphery vision seemed to be unusually good. He was catching things other than the ones he was focusing on at the edge of his consciousness.

Not only relying on sight, but also using all the senses of the body to take in the flow of the situation on the court. It was a feeling of submerging his consciousness into the court and connecting to the center of the court’s nerve network. He could hear the sound of the plug snapping into place in the back of his head. That feeling was the best.

No matter where he was on the court, as long as he was below the ball, the signs were still active. The combination was working. He could still set the ball anywhere. The center’s B-quick, the right’s broad jump, the back center, and then——.

Kuroba was there. He was in his black uniform, cutting in from the left.

At that moment, he could see the trajectory of the set he was about to make stretching out in front of him as though it was the root of a tree growing rapidly. He could clearly see the place where Kuroba was going to hit. It was some distance away, but he set the ball to that position with the hope that he would hit it. Far, high, and straight. To a place no one but him can reach——.

There was a sudden sound, like something shut down.

The lights in the venue suddenly went out and it became pitch dark. At the same time, the nerves that had been strung throughout the court from within him were cut. He lost his enhanced senses and felt a sense of loss, like his limbs were plucked from him.

In the darkness, Haijima was confused. He was impatient to concentrate and connect with the court once more. He reached out a mental feeler and tried to grab hold of the cut end of the connection he had just made.

A white sphere came flying towards him in a parabola. It was a ball—it still hadn’t fallen yet. When he reached out for it, relieved, he gulped when he saw his own hand appearing in his field of vision.

He had…no fingers.

From the second joint onward, where did they go…?

The ball was approaching in front of him. On the surface of the spinning ball, there were sticky finger marks in the color of blood.

***

He was shocked at the scream he made. He swept his hand in front of his face and slammed the back of his hand on the tatami mat. The pain woke him up.

Was that…a dream…?

“What the…”

With an exhale, the strength slipped out of him and buried the back of his head in the pillow. He could barely see anything without his glasses, so the outlines of everything were blurry. The wooden ceiling of the old house and the outline of the paper-covered electric light hanging down from it barely bled into his vision. It was so bright outside that he couldn’t make out the light of the miniature light bulb he had turned on when he went to bed.

“What day…is today…”

It was August 3rd. The third day of the Fall Tournament. Isn’t it time to get up already? This morning, his grandmother, who always stepped in without reservation and opened the shoji* doors wide before his alarm clock went off each morning, didn’t come in. But he could hear her preparing breakfast in the living room.

Oh, wait, yesterday…I said something to Grandma yesterday. What was it…?

He rolled over and pulled his summer futon up to his nose while trying to remember. What, aren’t you just trying to go to sleep again? He made a jab at himself. There’s a game. I have to get up. But his body refused to move. On normal days, he had a hard time waking up, but on game days, he woke up so well that he was more restless under the covers.

Yesterday’s game was horrible. As he curled up in his futon and recalled some of the scenes, he felt depressed once again. He had never made such a rookie mistake before. He was amazed at himself for being surprised by the ball and knocking it away like an amateur.

Normally, he would have a scorebook in his head from the start of the set to the end, memorizing all the plays for each point. If he wanted to, he could replay in his mind the movements of all players on the court in that rally from different angles.

But for yesterday’s game, the scorebook had many blank spaces. Even the memory of what he himself was doing was lacking in some places, much less the details of other players’ movements. When he was on the court, he could concentrate without even thinking about it, but yesterday, his concentration was breaking up halfway through the game and he had to “spare his mental strength to gather up his ability to concentrate,” which made him exhausted in a weird way.

I wonder if I’ll be okay today. Will I be able to do as well as usual? If I think stuff like that, the game becomes a huge bother.

I don’t wanna go today…I wish it would disappear, the game…

“!?”

His eyes snapped open in the dark futon.

Did I think that just now? That I wished the game would disappear——?

He shivered at the fact that he had that thought flash through his mind.

It was the last day of the Fall Tournament, which was being held over three days from August 1st to 3rd. Yesterday, on the second day of the tournament, Seiin High School had made it through the second and third rounds and were moving on to today’s semifinals. They were all supposed to meet in the club room today and travel to the venue together, but it was about five minutes past the meeting time of six-thirty when Haijima rushed into the club room.

“Sorry, I’m la…”

“No, it’s fine. We’re all here now. Then, we’ll announce today’s schedule.”

The captain, Oda, raised his hand lightly, and then looked around at the team members who had gathered before them.

“You’ll be dismissed after the meeting.”

The members of the team, who were carrying luggage and preparing for the departure order, naturally let out murmurs of confusion.

“Captain. You’re a super serious person, so you don’t have to calm our nerves with bad jokes. Anyways, isn’t Kuroba the only nervous one here? If we don’t move now, we’ll be late getting into the venue.”

Okuma’s voice, with its light inflection that almost seemed forced, stuffily echoed in the cramped room that was densely packed as it was. The rotating fan, though small, was making loud noises, but it only served to churn the lukewarm air and diffuse the stink of sweat. Oda looked at Okuma silently, but there was no smile on his face, and Okuma awkwardly withdrew his smile.

With his back against door, Haijima lost his voice.

He grew pale, thinking that the match was really gone because he wanted it to be, even for just an instant. There was no way that could be true. He was still in his nightmare. That would be much better.

Before him, Okuma, Kanno, Uchimura, and Hokao formed a wall of second-years, and Oda and Aoki were standing in the back of the room. Kuroba was sitting in a chair between the two captains. The cooler box that Kuroba carried home yesterday was placed in a corner of the room.

He saw a bruise on the left cheek of Kuroba, who was sitting with his head hanging down in discomfort.

He understood the situation immediately. This wasn’t the continuation of his nightmare, and it wasn’t something he wished for to happen—it was simply a predictable reality.

Impulsively, he slammed his fist against the door and removed his back from the door. He was about to step to the back of the room with long strides, but Kanno and Uchimura caught his crossed arms from both sides and he pitched forward. He leaned over the two’s arms and shouted.

“Are you an idiot!!?”

“Why are you yelling at me without giving me a chance to talk! I didn’t do anything!”

Kuroba shouted back, using the enamel bag on his knees as a shield and drawing back his big body. His anger boiled over at being opposed, but Kanno held him from the front and restrained him. “Calm down, Haijima, you can get angry after you hear what he has to say.”

“Senpai, that’s not really the end of the explanation, is it. There’s no way everyone would accept it if you suddenly told them to go home because we’re not playing anymore.”

Kanno turned back to Oda and said. While he was speaking quietly, his tone, which was usually reserved and mumbling, was clear and an octave lower. That showed Kanno himself was quite angry about the situation. The other second-years seemed just as unaccepting, and Oda, the smallest on the team, was on the receiving end of questioning gazes from everyone. Even Aoki, who usually served as the mediator, folded his arms with a dour and difficult look on his face, and only casting his eyes down.

Aoki raised his eyes and opened his mouth deliberately.

“Let’s check one thing first. Kanno, Haijima, you didn’t go home with Kuroba yesterday, did you?”

“Yesterday…?” Kanno looked at Haijima’s face, and then said, “Yes. The three of us separated. I went home in our car. Haijima went home in Kuroba’s mother’s car, and Kuroba…rode in his cousin’s truck.”

“Do you or Suemori-san know that cousin?”

“Well, he’s two years older than us, and I think everyone in our generation at Monshiro Middle knows who he is. He’s famous in town…”

Aoki narrowed his eyes as though he was thinking something. Kuroba’s “famous” cousin was of course Kuroba Yorimichi, not his younger sister. However, Aoki moved on to the next part of his talk without touching on it any more than that.

“Those of you who come through Suzumu know that you can see Suzumu Play-One, the building with the big bowling pins on the roof, from the railroad tracks, right? It also has a karaoke place and game arcade inside. Yesterday at the bowling alley, a group of bowlers from neighboring lanes clashed with each other and a fight broke out. The alley called the police and one of the groups was arrested, but the other escaped. The school was informed that there was a Seiin student in the group that escaped. An employee witnessed someone wearing our team’s jersey—Kuroba, that’s you, right?”

“I didn’t go to the bowling alley. I didn’t even know about the thing with the cops until I heard about it today.”

“So, you haven’t been to the bowling alley, eh. Then, if you weren’t involved in the fight, then what’s with this bruise?”

“It was because I wasn’t being careful. I don’t have to tell you the reason.”

Suddenly, Aoki grabbed Kuroba by the collar.

Seeing Kuroba being lifted from the chair and gritting his teeth saying “Ow!”, Haijima got goosebumps and thought, His back—?! In addition to his amazing jumping ability and the flexibility of his shoulders and elbows, Kuroba was an attacker who could bend his back far like a supple bow and hit the ball. Injuries to the spine could have a big impact on play. He didn’t know if it would be useful or not even if they had a game today——.

“Stop it, Aoki! Let him down!”

Oda said in a restrained voice. It was different when it was the other way around, but it wasn’t everyday that you saw Oda calming Aoki down. “He’s the one who betrayed your trust.” Aoki thrust Kuroba aside resentfully. “Aren’t you the ones who don’t trust me?” Kuroba grumbled, after he was returned to his chair with a thump and smoothed down the stretched-out collar of his T-shirt.

“Kuroba. I trust you, and I don’t think you’re the kind of guy who’d try to cover for yourself in something like this. But if you can’t explain your injury, then I can’t convince the school. If you just tell us honestly what happened…”

“I told you many times before, haven’t I? I wouldn’t stake my life on something that’ll get us suspended from games. I’m not causing trouble for the team. Getting injured on the day of the game is my fault and you can get angry about that as much as you want. I’m sorry about that. That’s all I have to say.”

“You looking down on us? I’ll kill you!”

Oda grabbed Aoki’s arm again as Aoki shouted that angrily and tried to raise his hand again. Meanwhile, Haijima lunged at Kuroba in fury and was prevented by the barricade all the second-years hurriedly made, and in the end he had his arms pinned behind his back by Okuma. The legs he blindly raised overhead kicked at the air. Kuroba’s chair fell over as he was ready to run away. The narrow room suddenly fell into chaos as everyone moved at once. The fan fell over and the wind billowed in the wrong direction.

“Not causing trouble for the team? Like hell you’re not! We can’t play today’s game!”

“Hah? I don’t want you to talk to me about the team!”

As he awkwardly fell on his backside, Kuroba suddenly got angry and shouted back.

This was when Haijima’s eyes widened, not understanding the meaning of such an objection.

“Enough!!”

Oda’s angry voice pierced through the noisy room.

“I’m talking about all of you! You wanna cause violence in the club and do something you can’t undo!? If all you guys do is get in my way, then you should all quit!”

All the team members looked at Oda, speechless. Even Aoki looked shocked.

Oda immediately came to his senses. “Ah…” he muttered and turned red.

In a large-sized team where more than half the members were above 180cm, the 163cm Oda was conspicuously small. However, as far as Haijima knew, he always looked up with his chest puffed out, as though pushing the handicap aside.

That Oda hunched his back, turned his face diagonally downward, averted his gaze from the team members, and spoke in a whisper, as though he had given up.

“Anyways, there’s no game today. As soon as I know what’s gonna happen tomorrow, I’ll write it on the whiteboard, so come and see it. If the situation doesn’t change at this rate, there’ll be no practice in the meantime. …That’s all, meeting’s over. You’re dismissed.”

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#2.43 #2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43: Seiin High School Boys Volleyball Club #2.43 book 1 #2.43 translation #2.43 seiin high school boys volleyball team

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candlelight27 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 6: This Mask That I've Become

Summary: Sylvain has been ignoring you since you met him. You had been in love with him since you met him. College is about to offer you a fresh start. New academic year, new life. You were ready to forget him. But fate seems to have other plans… (COLLEGE AU)

Series: Seeking Your Warmth If Only For A Day

Warnings: kissing in a church lol, tresspassing and etc... don't do that, kids

Pairings: Sylvain Jose Gautier x Female Reader

Word Count: 7065

AO3: This Mask That I’ve Become

A/N: Thanks to @galamixx again for being my beta! It's hard, I know lol so I appreciate it a lot!!!

I hope you like this chapter! It was a bit hard cause I'm going into unknown territory, but I hope you enjoy it either way. Comments, likes, whatever is really really appreciated! Thanks for sticking around with this!

My dearest Byleth,

Your letters brighten my days, otherwise dulled by duties. I must ask for your forgiveness again, since I couldn’t answer any text message yet. Seteth is trying to help me, but he’s not well versed in technology either. The world is moving way too quickly for us to catch up…

Please, keep updating me with the news of our dear students. I’m truly happy to see them thrive and prosper in the continuation of their studies. All those stories you tell me remind me of good times, already gone… Times I wish to never forget. It’s a gift of the Goddess to be able to see them again, even though I must stay in the shadows of this lonely cathedral.

I know we mustn’t be seen together, but I long to see you. Please, visit us soon. Seteth wants to have tea with you, too. He’s much more cheerful now that he’s sure Flayn is safe and sound whatever she wishes to do.

The real reason for this letter is to inform you that I arranged an archive to keep all of our memories safe. I know I refused your petition at first, but after long hours of deep thought, I came to the same conclusion as you. It’s our obligation to ensure the safety of the continent and everyone who lived here, and if we lose our memories, we wouldn’t be able to do it. And in case we die… others will take on our legacy. Hopefully, you’ll be able to take a look at them soon, so you can add any necessary information. I’ll send them as soon as they’re finished.

I’m doing as you instructed: I’m writing reports and so are the other Nabateans.

Thank you for your dedication, Byleth. I’ll always be here for you.

Yours sincerely,

Rhea.

Sylvain and you were next to each other, leaning over the table in your kitchen. Your gaze was fixed on the careful strokes of Rhea’s quill. Ingrid wasn’t home, so told her you’d invite Sylvain over to study and finish that project ‒ which you hadn’t touched in months, if you were being honest. Of course, it was just an excuse. Instead of doing homework, you were chatting and conspiring among opened books about matters not related at all with university. Who’d rather do that when you were living a real adventure?

As you went over the letter for an eleventh time, Sylvain called your name expectantly. He had a bright gleam in his eye that screamed trouble.

“Do you know what day it is next Friday?” He asked, a tilted smile on his lips.

“It’s the 21st,” You answered. You took the letter with your index finger and thumb, and slowly placed it back inside the envelope.

“Yes and no, my dear friend. It’s the founding day of the Kingdom of Faerghus”, Sylvain pointed out. You raised your eyebrows, questioning. You already knew that, just as every other student; that day marked the date when lessons were interrupted. Typically, there was a week more to hand over projects and other requirements to pass the subjects, so some students went right back home, yet others stayed behind in their dorms until they were completely finished.

“So what?” You asked.

The redhead breathed deeply as he prepared mentally for what was coming next. He felt the weight of your eyes on him. Were you judging him? No, you weren’t, he was well aware of that, but he couldn’t discard all those doubts that bombarded him at all times. He felt the guilt running through his veins and he was second guessing his next proposition.

“I’ve got a plan,” he managed to say at last. That charming façade of his that made him always get his way had faded away. You tilted your head, unable to make heads or tails of Sylvain and prompting him to explain himself. He cleared his throat and continued. “That evening, a special mass is going to be celebrated, just like every year. It’s the perfect opportunity to sneak a peek of those documents.”

“The perfect opportunity?” You exclaimed, eyes wide open. “Sylvain, it’s going to be crowded!”

“Yes! That way, nobody will notice we’re hiding in the old confessionary booth! You know they barely use it anyways. Then, we get out when everybody’s gone, we go to Rhea’s office, find the documents and run away as far as we can.”

You blinked, once, twice, thrice. Sylvain was impatient to hear your opinion. He was jolting his leg up and down out of nervousness as you bit your lips, deep in thought. He already knew you had said you were in this together, that you'd help him find the truth, yet those were just words, not acts. He needed your reassurance once again, for deep inside his chest, against his wishes, he was expecting you to reject his idea, to ridicule him and leave him behind ‒ just like Miklan, like his parents. Because wasn’t that what always happened? He trusted someone, then they’d betray him for circumstances that he never could understand.

“Are you sure that’s not trespassing?” You frowned.

“Since it’s a religious building, I’m pretty sure it’s not,” he claimed. “There’s a right of devotion, or something like that.”

“You’ve thought of this carefully, haven’t you? It’s a solid plan.” You nod slowly. Solid and stupid. It could work, but it entailed a great risk.

“It is,” Sylvain said. His heart was pounding fast in his chest, waiting for your objections.

“What if somebody catches us?”

“We’ll say we forgot something”, he posed. “My phone, your purse, whatever.”

“Seteth won’t buy it”, you argued.

“But it’s me who you’re going with,” he pointed to his own face. “He’ll just think we’re there to bang. He’ll lecture us and won’t think about it further. My reputation precedes me, after all.”

“Okay, fine”, you yielded easily. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” You stretched your arms, thinking about what you were getting into. However, for some indefinite reason, you weren’t worried about it. You were more worried about him.

Sylvain was relieved but, as always, uneasy with his own actions. Was he asking too much of you? Was he pushing your limits? It was hard to act all cool and mighty around you when he could barely control his own feelings and the messy train of thought that always accompanied him.

“I’ll drive us there,” Sylvain commented when he noticed he had been silent for a while. Even though you nodded and tried to smile, you were worried about Sylvain. You noticed him getting lost in his own thoughts, and it was worse that he had the horrible habit of never telling anyone what tortured him inside. Despite wanting to ease him, you couldn’t do anything but reassure him that the plan will go well. Executing it was the only thing left to do now.

Sylvain double parked right in front of your building. He was well dressed to go to the Cathedral, with a white button-up, dress pants and boots. His parents might be there, after all, and he didn’t want to piss them off. Sylvain tapped the wheel with his fingers. It was too early, but he couldn’t wait at home — He was restless, so he had driven to distract himself. Still, that didn’t make him calmer, so he was restless in front of your window instead.

Impatient and anxious, Sylvain grabbed his phone out of his pocket and wrote a message. There was a reason for his uneasiness: he was going to ask you out. Or he was going to reiterate his love for you and see where things would go from there.

Torn between his own actions, his happiness, and if it might make this whole timeline shenanigan more confusing for you, he couldn’t fall asleep and instead dwelled on it for hours. Something had to change. Pitying himself and being a hollow piece of shit to almost everyone only deepened the wound in his soul. He plucked up the courage and decided he’d do things the right way from then on. And, first, he had to confess to you a couple of things ‒ a sort of declaration of intent.

Sylvain wouldn't ask Ingrid for advice, because she would think this is another one of his dating escapades. She never takes him seriously. Dimitri always understood him, but was clueless. So was Felix, who would be even more unwilling to help. Claude would give him the best piece of advice, but he refused asking the Almyran out of pride. And he was sure Dorothea would tell him to fuck off. So he had only one option. His usual first option, because she knew him like the palm of her hand and always spoke her mind: Mercedes.

Sylvain 15:10 : Mercedes, pls, help me ☹

Mercedes 15:10 : What’s wrong, Sylvain?

Mercedes answered almost immediately. Her attention eased his nerves. Sylvain looked at his watch; he had about twenty minutes left until you’d meet him and sort out his agitation.

Sylvain 15:11 : It’s about you-know-who

Sylvain 15:11 : I need your advice

Mercedes 15:11 : You-know-who finally confessed?

Sylvain 15:12 : No, but I might?

He had finally worded it. A weight lifted off his shoulders. Mercedes would know if it was madness or in fact it would work, right?

Mercedes 15:12 : What are your true intentions?

Sylvain 15:12 : I think I’m in love, for real

Mercedes 15:13 : Oh dear

Mercedes 15:13 : At first I thought you weren’t that serious

He could hear the voice of Mercedes exclaiming, as he had for years. He wasn’t surprised. How many times has he toyed with the idea of love only to discard it? And he had never ever been serious with anyone. If somebody showed the littlest interest in him, he’d dismiss that person and do terrible things to them before they’d do them to him.

Mercedes 15:13 : I told her to be careful around you because you play with women’s feelings

Sylvain 15:13 : I’m not angry, can’t blame you for speaking the truth

Sylvain 15:14 : But you’re the worst wingman ever, tbh

Sylvain 15:14 : Still love you tho <3

Mercedes 15:14 : There is something positive!

Mercedes 15:14 : You-know-who hasn’t run away yet! You two grew closer instead! Most would have run away!

Mercedes 15:15 : I think that’s a good sign

Mercedes 15:15 : She might be in love with you, even if she doesn’t know it

Sylvain 15:16 : I don’t like that might. I’d rather to be sure about it

Mercedes 15:16 : Just remember doubts are natural, but you must persist

Mercedes 15:16 : It’s now or never, confess your love!

Mercedes 15:17 : And don’t play with her feelings, please

Sylvain 15:17 : I know it’s hard to believe, Mercie, but I’m serious

Mercedes 15:18 : Sothis has answered my prayers then 😊

Sylvain 15:18 : Or Byleth. The professor paired us on that damned project.

Mercedes 15:18 : I have to go now. I’ll answer later. Write to me if you need it, ok?

Sylvain 15:19 : Ok, see you! Thanks, Mercedes

He appreciated Mercedes’ honesty. However, she had given Sylvain another headache, for the devout girl had reminded him of something else. He hadn’t gone out with a girl in months. He had uninstalled all his dating apps – which weren’t exactly for dating, obviously, but flings. Even so, years of being a bastard had to catch up with him at some point, and he guessed it’d be soon enough.

A knock on the window of the car startled him. It was you, with a radiant smile.

“You’ve come early!”, he greeted you as he opened the window. Unknowingly, Sylvain hid his mobile phone. “Get in.”

You went around the car, which looked new, but not extravagantly expensive, and opened the door.

“You’re the one who is early!”, you said, fastening your seatbelt. “Did I have you waiting for too long?”

“Not at all!” Sylvain brushed it off.

“I saw your car through the window, that’s why I came earlier”, you smiled.

Without further ado, he started the engine and thus began your two-hour journey to the biggest cathedral in Fódlan, and your old highschool.

The nearer you were to Garreg Mach, where you practically lived for years – excluding holidays, of course, when you’d visit your family – the more mountains and nature you’d see through the windows.

Sylvain was suspiciously quiet yet again.

“I thought Dimitri would be coming with us?” You asked to spark a conversation against the unbearable silence.

“He’s going to spend all the break with his father in Faerghus after the mass, so he’s not returning to college afterwards,” Sylvain explained nonchalantly. “Besides, he doesn’t like when others drive. Just an odd habit of his.”

“What about you?” You asked. “How come you aren’t going to Faerghus afterwards too? You’ve finished all your papers.”

“Nah”, he shrugged. “My relationship with my family… is rocky. So I’ll be staying behind until our university closes and I finish all my excuses.”

“I thought Miklan was gone for a long while.”

“Well, it’s not just Miklan...” The redhead added. “My father is not interested in me and my whole being, but rather in my grades and my capacity of managing his businesses and his land. Oh, and he’s also-” Sylvain hesitated. He realized he usually doesn’t open up to others this fast. However, thinking about the past you two share, and how you’re always genuine to him despite everything he’s making you do, he continued. “My father is also constantly trying to auction off my hand to any bigwig’s daughter who might make a big investment for the family. It’s exhausting.”

“Sounds horrible. I’m sorry you have to deal with a family like that.” You commented sympathetically. You wanted to express your compassion, so you caressed his shoulder. However, Sylvain flinched in the slightest manner, which you noticed and retreated your hand.

“Remember those girls in the library long ago?” He wondered.

“Yes.”

“I met them in one of my father’s parties. Two fickle, capricious girls that wanted a good catch to get expensive gifts and an exciting roll in the hay.” His tone was harsh, and you saw his knuckles whiten over the wheel. Suddenly, he changed his register into a lighter one. “I forgot to tell you that Edelgard is going to be there with Dimitri. She usually can’t attend, since Enbarr is too far away. Maybe she’s going to stay with Dimitri in Fhirdiad to… amend their relationship. Who knows. And Hubert will be surely there, being Edelgard’s shadow.”

“Ah, I see. Well, she is Dimitri’s step sister, after all, they ought to be on good terms,” You commented.

“Isn’t she your friend?”

“Not exactly. Well, not like Dorothea. We get along, but we haven’t met that much outside the classroom.” You answered.

“I see.” He nodded slightly.

You took advantage of your position in the co-pilot seat and observed him. His soft hair, dark red in the roots and orangey where the light caressed it, the shape of his straight nose and his outlined jaw... He was objectively handsome. The actions of those girls Sylvain talked about were despicable, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that they thought they had won the lottery: this man was rich, handsome, friendly and extremely seductive. However, they had miscalculated the situation, because they had not been the first nor the last ones to try, and they didn’t know Sylvain hated playing that game.

It saddened you, that he had to live that. But it saddened you even deeper in your heart that you didn’t know what to expect. Nothing could assure you that Sylvain would get over his ex-lovers and stalkers. And yes, you liked him – some would assure you were in love with him – but would you be able to pursue a romantic relationship? Especially in this situation?

Ingrid had voiced her opinion a lot of times: you shouldn’t try it. You knew that whatever you did, she was going to support you, but she had her reservations. Mercedes was wary as well. The only dissonant view was Dorothea’s.

Dorothea had gone to a date with Sylvain back in high school and she concluded he was a pig. You had heard so, sat in your desk right behind hers as she was telling the story to Edelgard. Despite that, Dorothea and Sylvain became allies of some sort – which made you jealous until you finally befriended the star of the Garreg Mach choir. It might have been the common nature of the gossip they both faced, or the fact that most of the high-end parties they attended were frequented by the same dull people. It didn’t matter what it was, but, although Dorothea restated constantly that Sylvain was nauseating, her attitude towards him had changed. It lit a small hope within your heart that your friend, who usually despised a lot of men of his kind, was encouraging you.

“Give him a chance!”, she exclaimed one day while you were having lunch with her and Petra. “I feel it in my gut! You’re made for each other.” Petra agreed, although she didn’t know either of you that much.

Yet, what made you different from all those girls Sylvain hated? That unexplained deep connection? Because, other than that, nobody could tell if your love was more authentic than theirs. You weren’t even sure yourself. Did you like him because he was a pretty face, or because you actually were in love? It was hard to tell.

As if Dorothea had read your mind and your hesitation, your phone vibrated.

Dorothea 15:53 : GO FOR THE KILL

Dorothea 15:53 : Make him suffer a little bit before falling into his arms tho

Dorothea 15:53 : AND tell me ALL the juicy details afterwards 😉

“What’s wrong?” Sylvain glanced over at you with a chuckle.

“What?”

“You just snorted!” He laughed.

“Oh, just Dorothea wishing us good luck,” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you weren’t as good as him. He laughed.

“Is she telling you to avoid me like I’m a pest?”

“Something like that…” You lied.

It didn’t matter from which angle you observed it; the Cathedral had always been impressive. The clear stone, bathed in the sunrays, seemed to be pure gold, resplendent in its holiness. The place stirred like a hive with the confluence of people, most of whom you knew. A nostalgic sensation washed over you.

“Could you wait here?” Sylvain asked, moving his head around and narrowing his eyes to figure out the identity of the people around you. “I have to go greet my parents.” He clarified.

“Do you want to go alone?”

“Yes”, he scratched the back of his head. “I’m sure you’ll meet them one day,” He winked, “but not today.”

The redhead faded into the crowd, while you waited in the courtyard right before the hall. You didn’t know what to do, so you sat over one of the low walls. You saw a patch of blonde hair, but you weren’t sure if it was Dimitri, so you didn’t move. Meanwhile, you recognised many of the passers-by, as they were family of your own classmates, but you doubted they’d remember you.

A deep voice called your name from the shadows of a nearby tree. You looked at the source of the sound.

“Hubert?” You blinked several times. That was a surprise.

“Indeed. I’m here to accompany Edelgard. What are you doing here?”, he asked. “I was certain that you didn’t like going to mass, and you have to ties with the Kingdom of Faerghus.”

“I’ve come with Sylvain”, you answered. Hubert’s eerie, yellow eyes were fixed on you, disturbing you.

“I see,” he commented. A small grimace that resembled a smile formed on his lips.

“He’ll come in a moment”, you forced a smile. You didn’t dislike Hubert, but he had an extraordinary ability to put your nerves on edge.

“I wanted to thank you for that favour,” he commented efficiently.

“That thing?”, you made an ‘o’ with your lips. “No need to thank me, Hubert. We’re… friends?”

“I prefer the term strategic partners”, he nodded.

“Okay, that name is fine too.”

“The reason I’m here is that I must inform you that the heir of the Gautier is engaged”, he said with solemnity.

“Excuse me?” Your little world shattered into pieces, broken. What the fuck was Hubert talking about?

“A month ago, his parents engaged him with one of the daughters of Mr. Rowe. Since you’re rather close with him, I thought you should know it.”

“... I see.”, you muttered, still shocked, trying to remain composure.

“I must go now,” he said, but he didn’t move. “I apologise for being the harbinger of bad news.”

“No need to worry, I just was surprised. See you around”, you waved at him, indicating that you’d be okay. Hubbert made a bow and vanished.

That was an unexpected turn of events. Your heartbeat was loud and fast, and you did your best to quickly blink away tears so that no one would notice. Despite the doubts, the second thoughts and all the things against you, you had thought you’d be in control whether you ended up with Sylvain or not. However, just like the rest of your life, it seemed that you were trapped in a book somebody else was writing. And now, in the place where your crush had begun, any hope you harboured had disappeared, just like a flame put out with a bucket of cold water.

You opened and closed your eyes rapidly to make the tears disappear and stood up. You breathed in and out in slow movements. Your body began relaxing.

Where was Sylvain? There was almost nobody else outside. The mass would begin in almost five minutes. He must have been talking with his parents, if what Hubert said was true. How were you in such a deep mess?

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Sylvain appeared from the lateral of the cathedral.

“Hey! You ready?” He sprang to you.

“Yes,” You tried to cover your face. You couldn’t let him see you in vulnerability.

“Okay, remember the plan.” He leaned into you, lowering his voice. “We sit on the back row, and 10 minutes before the end we get out. Then, we enter through the left door and hide in the confessionary booth. You go in first, then I follow you 3 minutes apart.”

You nodded and walked into the cathedral. You couldn’t look at him in the eyes. It was going to be a long evening.

The confessional booth was dark inside. There was a separation between the two parts that composed it, so the space was reduced. You sat on the wooden bench, thankful that it didn’t crack at all.

Sylvain had been right: nobody saw you. The confessionary itself, with an entry in the back, blocked the view of the lateral door to any onlooker that could have been there. On the other hand, you could see the people sitting in the left wing of the building through the lattice in a very convenient way. It was an excellent place to hide. The pulpit was far away, yet the voice of Archbishop Rhea was heard everywhere.

In spite of your relative security, this had to be by far the worst idea you had ever agreed on. Everything seemed doomed in that moment. You were sure in that moment that you’d get caught or expelled. You wanted to run away.

But right then, the back door silently opened and Sylvain entered the scene.

Sylvain’s wide shoulders almost didn’t fit through the entrance. You tried to move around to make some space for him, but it was in vain. You were thankful for the shadows, because your cheeks were growing redder and redder by the moment as his presence became more and more noticeable.

You didn’t know how exactly, but you ended up with your legs over his lap, your shoulders touching and your faces way too close for your liking. At least right then, when Hubert’s words were still fresh in your mind.

The choir started singing a tune, which indicated that the mass was approaching its end. Such pure voices were inappropriate for that moment you were sharing with Sylvain.

“I swear this was bigger before...” Sylvain whispered in your ear. It made your hair stand on end.

“Yes, when we were confessing, being 12 and younger, and being alone. Now it’s even more tiny because someone decided to have the both of us in here.” You grunted back, careful of not being heard.

His breath caressed your face, and his warmth radiated from his clothes. He was too comfortable, and you felt like you could be cuddled like this forever, while at the same time you wanted to run away from his touch. It occurred to you that he might have been a sorcerer, and that he had put you in an unavoidable spell. How else would all these feelings be so intense? It couldn’t be just love, right?

“I have something to tell you,” Sylvain said, but he wasn’t looking at you.

Was he going to tell you that he was engaged? Your breathing was erratic once more. You couldn’t flee, much to your dismay.

“What is it?”

“I…”, he cut himself.

“You…?” You were suspenseful, but you weren’t sure for what. Disappointment? Elation? Sylvain turned his head and fixed his pupils on yours.

“Be my girlfriend.” He managed to speak. You had no words. The world was definitely laughing at your face. “I’m in love with you and you’re in love with me. So why not? Isn’t it the logical thing to do?”

“It’s not that easy, Sylvain, despite how much I wish it was.” You sighed, at a loss for better words.

“Why not?” He pressed.

His heart dropped and a thousand thoughts rushed into his mind. He wanted to scream. How could he dare to think someone would genuinely love him? He got hurt, as it always happened. He shouldn’t have let his walls down, not even for you. He shouldn’t seek love, he shouldn’t have bothered. Everytime he considered himself worthy of love, the world around him would start crashing down. ‘You’re set yourself up for failure’, Sylvain kept repeating to himself. That’s what his father always told him when things didn’t turn out well. His father had been right. He was a failure. Even when his intentions were pure, he had already tainted his future. There was no redemption for him, right?

You picked up on the rising panic on Sylvain’s face, and you felt guilt inside your chest.

“I’m scared,” you said, trying to justify yourself. You believed it was the moment to be sincere. “I’m scared that you’re lying to use me. Or that you’d just get bored and throw me away.”

“I’d never do that to you,” he said, horrified by the fact that you wouldn’t accept he was telling the truth. “You’re not like the-”. He interrupted himself. “I see it now. I won’t stop repeating the same sentence, right? Now nobody will believe me.” Sylvain covered his face with his hand. “I cried the wolf way too many times…” He mutters.

“There’s something else,” you whispered.

“Just say it. It’s not gonna get worse at this point.” Sylvain chuckled somberly.

“You’re engaged.”

“It’s not something I chose. And it’s definitely not something I’m happy about.” He stated. Your words felt like a knife on Sylvain’s skin. “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought I’d get my parents to break the engagement first, but it’s taking longer than I’d expected.”

Out of the blue, Sylvain placed his hands around your face.

“Will you be my girlfriend? You didn’t say no. You know that I wouldn’t willingly propose to a girl when you are right here by my side. You haven’t seen me with another girl, have you?” He assured, a tinge of desperation in his voice.

“I don’t want to say no,” you answered, confused. “But- Sylvain, we’re doomed. We’re not meant to be.”

“I don’t care about fate. Does that mean you’d give me a chance?” His eyes were intense, hard and, all the same, warm and comforting, with the colour of liquid caramel. Sylvain threw all his doubts away for once, just wanting to be with you. You were one of the only things keeping him happy.

“I don’t know… Sylvain, I-”

“If you tell me I’ve still got a chance, I’m not going to give up. I love you.” He announced seriously. “Don’t get me wrong, if you really want me out of your life, I will do it, but otherwise…”

“This is a trap. How am I supposed to tell you looking at you in the eye that I don’t want to see you ever again?” You complained.

“I’m not a trickster, but I’m not gonna let you go either. I’ll have to convince you to be mine, then.”

“And how are you going to convince me?”, you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I already did the hardest part, I made you fall for me.” he smirked.

With that, you couldn’t resist the invisible force pulling yourself to him anymore. You crashed your lips against his and sat astride his lap. It was easy; you had already done it before. Sylvain was amazed, but he was not one to lose an opportunity. He kissed you back. Unable to control himself, his hands grabbed your waist, but he didn’t let himself explore. He was unsure of what was happening, but he was glad he’d got to taste your lips a second time.

You pressed your chest against his torso, while trying to hug him closer. His lips were soft and firm, his movements decided, and he knew what he wanted. Sylvain took advantage of a pause you took for breathing and let his tongue slide in. He was voracious and greedy in his attentions, and he did not let a single speck of your mouth untouched.

You were starting to feel dizzy and wanted much more, but you stopped.

“Everybody should be gone by now,” you muttered, his mouth still pressed to yours. He was panting, and you could guess what was on his mind – you could feel his excitement rising in his lap, after all.

“What was that for?”

“I felt like it.” you lovingly took off a lock of his hair from his forehead. “I’m not going to give you my heart just like that, but I swear to the Goddess, I can’t resist you.”

“Well, I’m not going to complain if you do it again, you know.” he smirked, releasing you from his grip. “After all, we have to make up for lost time.” He grabbed your wrist before letting you go completely, and lowered his tone. “But don’t get used to torturing me like this, or I’ll eventually lose my composure.”

“I’ll risk it,” you playfully answered while you distanced yourself.

You exited the booth without a single sound. The church was dark, since there was no light coming from the large windows anymore. The sun was gone. The place was creepy without a single source of brightness, and the stone was grey and cold.

Your steps followed Sylvain as he manoeuvred between the pews and towards the sets of stairs that led to the upper floor. You had not been there frequently, just once or twice to help Seteth move some books after class. Sylvain, however, knew the place like the palm of his hand due to Seteth’s insistence in correcting the mischievous redhead’s nature. Seteth never achieved his ambition, of course, but as a result, Sylvain could go to Rhea’s office with his eyes closed. And to Seteth’s one, to the cleaning supplies stall and many more rooms he had the pleasure to visit in his youth.

“Careful with the stairs, the stone is worn-out, and you can fall down”, Sylvain warned you.

There were bright coloured statues of the saints and Seiros splattered around, along with some old-looking tapestries that needed to wash. You couldn’t admire them for long, because before you could register that you were raiding the empty cathedral at 8 p.m., Sylvain had already stopped before a wooden door.

“It’s here”, he stated solemnly.

“Are you ready?”, you asked.

“More than ever”, he smiled and turned around the doorknob.

Of course, it was closed.

“Fuck”, he said.

“We should have expected that”, you rubbed your temple.

“Do you have a bobby pin?”

“Nope”, you hummed.

“Okay, time to go home I guess”, Sylvain suddenly laughed, and so did you. “It feels like we’ve gone crazy, right?”

“Oh my god, Sylvain, you thought about the confessional booth but it didn’t occur to you that the door might have been locked?”, you giggled.

“Shut up! You could have guessed it, too!”

“Four months ago I thought I’d never speak to you in my life, and look at us now”, you couldn’t help the laughs.

“What’s so fun?”, Seteth’s voice reverberated through the narrow corridor, shutting both your mouths at the same time.

He had appeared from a door right across you ‒ from his own office, you presumed. You were so nervous that you couldn’t say a word. It was surreal. Seteth didn’t look angry, he looked curious instead, something you weren’t used to. The years might have eased his nerves. But that fact didn’t make your position any easier.

“Look, Seteth, we’re not here for any funny business”, Sylvain defended himself and you. He stepped forwards out of habit.

“Because entering Lady Rhea’s office is not suspicious at all”, Seteth calmly replied.

“Okay, it seems suspicious. But it’s not what it seems,” he began scratching the back of his head. “I dragged her here and…”

You had relaxed enough to form coherent words. And you decided it was the moment to come out clean, because lies and secrets were just turning your life upside down. Furthermore, Seteth’s presence ignited an old feeling; the need to rely on a much more mature adult. You cut Sylvain’s words.

“Seteth, we’ve come here looking for some papers that belong to Lady Rhea”, you said loud and clear. “We were going to steal them.”

“What are you doing?” Sylvain asked incredulously.

“Seteth, we’ve been having the weirdest dreams”, you said. “And they won’t stop, to the point they seem real, like memories.” Seteth's disposition changed. He tensed, and his face paled. “We went to Byleth’s office and… we read a letter from the Archbishop. We know that those dreams happened, but we wanted to verify it and learn why everything’s happening. Otherwise, we’ll go mad.”

Seteth’s green eyes went from your figure to Sylvain’s and back to you again. It was visible that he was torn, choosing what to do. The older man sighed, defeated. He had lost from the beginning, because he couldn’t conceal his fear from such an unexpected accusation.

“It’s a long story”, Seteth said. “Come into my office and have some tea.”

He let you in the room, only lit with candles scattered around. You and Sylvain sat on a sofa that was behind the coffee table. Sylvain went to a desk filled with piles of papers, where there was an electric kettle and various wooden boxes.

“I’ve got ginger tea and a four-spice blend. There must be some sweet-apple blend too somewhere here, Flayn’s favourite”, Seteth offered.

“I don’t mind which one”, you said, smiling politely.

“We’ll have whatever you're having, Seteth”, answered Sylvain.

There was a prolonged silence. The only sounds were the boiling water of the kettle and Seteth rummaging in his drawers. A nice aroma of ginger slowly spread through the air.

The man of the church placed three teacups on the table and sat in the armchair right in front of you. You had never noticed, but Seteth was fit, way too much for a man of his profession. It made sense, though, when you remembered his expertise upon a wyvern.

“I’m sorry about the light. I never got around installing lamps, and I like the candles. They remind me of more familiar times…”, Seteth said as he poured you a cup of steaming tea. “Where should I begin?”, he inquired.

“Did those things really happen?”, Sylvain asked first.

“Yes”, Seteth nodded matter-of-factly. “All those memories you’ve recovered have happened in the past. Or… in our other lives, as I like to say.”

“Are those things going to happen again?”, it was your turn to ask, then. Seteth could sense the fear in your voice.

“We hope the war will never repeat itself”, he reassured you. “We don’t really know what the future has in store for us, but we’ve deemed it very unlikely. The events that have happened in this era are completely different from those in the past.”

“Who are ‘we’?” Said Sylvain. “If you don’t mind the questions…”

“The Nabateans,” Seteth answered dryly. He took a sip of his cup of tea. “I’m sure you remember, the Immaculate One back in the battle of Garreg Mach, right?”

“Some things are… vague for me”, Sylvain lamented, because you had told him the story a million of times, but he couldn’t recall the encounter.

“I remember it. It was Lady Rhea, right? I remember Edelgard telling us she was a monster controlling the continent from the shadows.” You explained.

“Yes… So-”

“Wait,” Sylvain interrupted Seteth. “Can you turn into a dragon?”

“Not me,” he denied. “It's been hundreds of years, but that’s not quite the topic of this conversation, is it?” The green-haired man reminded him.

“But how did it happen? How did we end up living so many lives?”, you interceded. “Why didn’t we… just die?”

“It’s Byleth’s doing”, Seteth replied. “Lady Rhea, back when Byleth was born in 1159, placed Sothis’ heart in his, hoping our mother would live again…”

“Sothis… the Goddess? She’s real?” Sylvain was dumbfounded. You looked at your cup of tea, then to Seteth, unable to articulate an answer. You were thankful for Seteth’s patience.

“Yes. This gave him great power, as he became one with the Goddess. Which granted Byleth as well the power of turning back the hands of time.”

“So he’s been turning back the time after the war of Fódlan?”, you exclaimed.

“Byleth wanted to save us all from the tragedy that devastated Fódlan. He kept turning back to the year 1180, yet one way or another, the string of events led to the same. So, at last, Byleth decided he needed to go way back, to the beginning of everything.” He paused, and saw your faces focused on every word that was escaping his mouth. He smiled to himself, remembering those times when you both were younger and listened to his lessons. Your faces might have changed, and your voices and bodies, but the eyes of his pupils were still the same. “Sothis, aware of the future, made her holy sacrifice to prevent Nemesis and his kind to take over. The history of Fódlan changed just enough to give us a rest...”

“So Byleth’s hair will be dark blue forever now?”, Sylvain asked.

“Yes. The professor is no longer the vessel of the Goddess,” Seteth clarified. “There are no longer any crests nor Hero’s relics. Therefore, technology has prospered, and your generation was born later ‒ although we don’t know exactly why this happened.” Seteth paused to sip his tea and hear your questions, but all the information had left you and Sylvain dumbfounded. Therefore, he continued his speech, somewhat relieved that he could finally tell a human all these burdens. “Flayn used to cry a lot, weeping about your absence,” he tenderly recalled. “Lady Rhea and I were sad too. We’ve been through a lot, all of us, after all…”

“I have another question, Seteth…”, Sylvain started. He was in deep thought, just like you. “Why is it that we’ve got our memories back?”

“I honestly have no idea…”, Seteth shook his head from side to side. “It could be because of your previous relationship. Back in the Officers Academy you were on... extremely good terms, as far as I know, so when I was your teacher in this high school it surprised me that you two never coincided. However, you’ve found your way next to each other, so perhaps some things are meant to be…” The older man trailed off, but continued. “Well, I don’t know. I know for us, the kin of Sothis, it’s probably due to our blood. For humans… it’s harder to tell.”

You looked at Sylvain from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t dare to face the ginger.

“Isn’t this a big secret?” you questions, amazed that Seteth ‒ and no other than Seteth himself ‒ was confiding to you such details.

“Yes, it is”, Seteth confirmed, narrowing his eyes.

“Why are you telling us, then?”

“Because, as I said, I appreciate you. Both of you. We’ve fought side by side, you’ve rescued Flayn numerous times”, he crossed his arms over his chest again. “Sylvain risked his life for Flayn numerous times, while you were also close to Byleth. It’s unnatural not to trust you...” Then, Seteth spoke once more. “But I must request that this reunion stays between us. Please. We don’t want any resentment to be born in such a peaceful time as this is. And I’ve broken so many rules right now that I’m frankly scared of what might happen.”

“Okay, we won’t say anything, Seteth”, you nodded. “I promise.”

“You have our word”, Sylvain accepted.

“Not even… Rhea or Byleth. If you don’t mind, this never happened.” Seteth touched his beard.

“Wait, Seteth, I still have Professor Byleth’s letter”, you said, worried. “He must have noticed it went missing…”

“Don’t worry about that, Byleth is a disaster. He came by this morning, I’ll tell him he dropped it and that he should be more careful”, Seteth smiled.

“Thank you, Seteth. For real”, Sylvain said. And you saw for the first time in his eyes the lightest shadow of hope.

#sylvain x reader #fe3h #fe3h fanfic #sylvain jose gautier x reader #female reader #reader insert #sylvain jose gautier #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #fire emblem three houses

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blushingbaka · 4 years

Text

love like summer rain;

✰ part one ✰ read prologue here ✰

|| summary - bokuto was never your first pick as a co-counselor, but eight weeks is plenty of time to change your mind

pairing: bokuto x fem!reader genre: fluffy camp counselor au, slow burn, mutual pining length: 1.8k

✰ a/n: mmm these were only supposed to be drabbles, but they’re turning out longer than expected hehe i’m having too much fun writing this though bc it allows me to reminisce on my old summer camp experiences !! i didn’t have a bokuto tho :’( but anyways i hope you enjoy this as much as i do <3

⋆week one⋆

It’s been three days since the campers arrived and you were exhausted. The second night was always the worst with all the campers forced to stay awake with either their excited restlessness or heavy feeling of homesickness. Every time your light slumber was interrupted by giggling or sniffling you would glance over to the other female counselor in your cabin Yukie to see who would handle it. She, like you, was assigned the eight-year-olds, but her co-counselor was Akaashi who was sharing the conjoined boy’s cabin with Bokuto. You had wondered how their night had gone, but it was hard to tell since Bokuto had greeted you as brightly as usual that morning.

Even now in the sweltering heat of the afternoon, there was no sign of his energy draining, and he almost seemed to be as impatient as the kids to get a canoe out on the water, bouncing on his toes. You hung in the back, happy to let a couple of the rec staff explain to the kids the basics such as how to move their paddles and how to properly wear a life jacket. Even though your campers seemed to be jittering with excitement, they thankfully had the wide focused eyes of rapt listeners. You were quite content being assigned eight-year-olds. Most of them seemed to be comfortable with the room of independence you gave them, but they were also innocent and sociable creatures, easily getting along with one another. You had been relieved when you weren’t assigned the preteens. You had handled them before, but that was with the aid of Kuroo, who just seemed to have a talent for connecting with them and coaxing their guard down.

As the rec staff began distributing life jackets, you wove your way through the campers making sure they had all fastened it correctly. Despite heaviness weighing on your eyelids, you couldn’t help but mirror their smiles as they hurried to the edge of the water, claiming a canoe and a partner. They had single kayaks for the counselors, so when it seemed most of the campers were cleared you lazily made your way over to the vest rack, where Bokuto was already standing, struggling to fasten his own. With his tongue poking out and eyebrows pinched together in concentration, you found it hard to suppress your urge to laugh. Even at first glance you could tell the vest Bokuto was fighting to fit around his chest was too small, but you were feeling too amused to immediately point that out.

“Having problems?” You cocked up one eyebrow, maintaining a calm expression as you reached for a vest your size. His eyes went wide at your voice, and you swore a pink hue dusted the tip of his ears as he stopped fumbling with the clasps.

“I think you might have grabbed a size too small” you continued easily slipping your own vest on your shoulders.

“No way! I grabbed the biggest size there was!” He insisted shimming off the life jacket so he could look at the size again. “See look right here! It says XL” he thrusted the vest towards your face. Again you found yourself pinching your lips together not wanting your laughter to offend him. Akaashi had advised you to avoid evoking a dejected Bokuto, which was advice you didn't take lightly.

“And what does it say under the XL?” You softly prompted. He knitted his eyebrows scrutinizing the words you gestured to. You had to acknowledge that it was partially faded from years of use, but the word Bokuto managed to look over was ‘kids.’

If you weren’t right about his ears being red before, they were definitely painted with the bright shade now, and his shoulders partially slumped in embarrassment. Not giving him much time to dwell on his mistake and not wanting to give your eyes time to linger on his exposed chest, you took the small vest from his hands and found him a more suitable one.

“Here” you held it open for him so he could slide his arm in. Your action caused his lips to curve up in a cute bashful manner, and as he pushed his arm through your fingertips grazed his warm, bare skin. He only wore the faintest sheen of sweat, and you couldn’t comprehend how he wasn’t melting in this heat. Too lost in your thoughts, you had instinctively started buckling the clasps, and Bokuto’s warm hand enveloped yours.

“Y-you don’t have to do that y’ know” Bokuto stuttered. Blinking your eyes rapidly, you suddenly pulled your hand away as if his touch had burned you. Bokuto stared at you his own eyes wide in surprise. Thankfully you quickly regained your composure, managing a short, shaky laugh.

“Sorry force of habit” you patted his covered chest before immediately heading towards the water, not wanting him to see any more of you in this awkward state.

Once you got out on the lake, your nerves eased, and you found yourself smiling contently as a slight breeze caressed your face. The campers’ laughter and efforts to coordinate strokes filled the empty space, and you noticed a particular pair stuck on a part of the lake’s shore, struggling to propel themselves back into deeper water. Somewhere within the time it took you to help them out, Bokuto decided to go on a splashing spree, filling your ears with the campers’ high-pitched and hysterical laughter as they tried to row fast enough to escape his range. You watched in amusement as even a pair of your campers who seemed to have their stroke patterns down also found the distance between them and their male counselor narrowing. They were no match for the strength of Bokuto’s strokes, his biceps bulging with every time he pushed his paddle into the water.

You found yourself moving closer to the action and just as you reached them, Bokuto had successfully doused them with repetitive splashes, their shrills of giddy laughter being broken up only by their half-hearted demands for him to stop. In all his enthusiasm, Bokuto hadn’t even realized you were practically right beside him. Taking advantage of the distraction, you gracefully skimmed your paddle across the surface of the water, taking pride in the fact your splash mostly got the back of his head. The sudden sensation of water striking him caused him to whip around, and his kayak wobbled momentarily with his sudden shift in weight.

“Y/N!” His mouth fell open as he stared at you with his wide, golden eyes. “We’re supposed to be on the same side!” It was hard to acknowledge his whiny tone when that playful glint in his eyes only seemed to increase by your actions.

“Sorry” you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, smirking. “You looked hot, so I thought I’d help you cool off” knowing what was coming next you began to move your kayak backward.

“Oh no, you don’t. You better prepare for my biggest splash yet” he boldly declared, easily guiding his kayak to face yours. Coming to the conclusion that he was close enough, he went in to glide his paddle across the water, but again enthusiasm was his downfall. He dipped his paddle too far into the water, and with the momentum of his swing, his kayak tilted all the way over. It happened so fast, you barely caught the flit of realization on his face before it disappeared under the water.

You and the campers that had gathered around to watch their counselors’ antics stared wide-eyed at the water, which Bokuto popped out of moments later, his head bobbing as the life jacket raised above his shoulders. He looked impossibly small with only his head visible and his hair sticking messily to the front of his face. Over your momentary shock, a throaty, genuine laugh shook your body, causing you to double over. A chorus of the kids’ laughter joined you, and you finally glanced back to Bokuto, letting out a final breathy chuckle.

“I’m sorry Bokuto. I didn’t mean to laugh so hard, but…” hearing your voice he shook his head vigorously from side to side, splaying small droplets of water across the surface of the lake. His hair no longer hung in front of his eyes, but now gently framed his face in a way that was foreign to you. Your words became stuck in your throat, taken off guard by this new image of Bokuto you were presented with. He looked somehow softer. There was no trace of embarrassment in his features, and instead, he seemed to be gazing fondly up at you, a toothy grin on his face. In an instant, your chest had tightened and your cheeks began to heat up, so you forced yourself to advert your gaze. That turned out to be a mistake as you missed Bokuto’s fond expression morph into a mischievous one.

“Hey hey hey!” he yelled, features impossibly bright. “Who wants to see, not one, but two counselors dunked into the water!” he raised his fists into the air, and your body went taut with realization. Of course, the kids were all too quick to cheer him on, the traitors, and he was at your side in no time, a blatant smirk on his face as his hands gripped the side of your kayak.

“Bokuto, don’t you da-“ but he had already tipped your kayak over, submerging you in the water. You rose back up quickly, sputtering and shaking your head. As you gently kicked your legs back and forth, you realized the water was surprisingly cool, but you didn't have time to focus on it too long. The first face you saw was the triumphant one belonging to Bokuto, and you narrowed your eyes at him although it didn’t seem to faze him.

“Sorry” he used a teasing tone. “You looked hot” he parroted your words from earlier, sticking out his tongue, and displaying no effort to hide his smugness. You tried to come up with a nice retort, but sudden loud splashes distracted you. It had seemed your and Bokuto’s antics had inspired the campers to ‘accidentally’ upset the balance of their canoes, causing them to join you in the water. You and Bokuto looked at each other at the same moment with this realization, causing you both to fall into soft, care-free laughter.

That amusement was extinguished when you realized you had to help all of them back into their canoes, but at that moment you were filled with blissfulness. Your exhaustion had melted away, and the cool droplets of water clinging to your face soothed you. Looking up to the sky, you saw that it was completely clear; however, the small thought crossed your mind that summer rain might not be so bad on a day insufferably hot as this one. Despite being an unpredictable and relentless force, it offered a reprieve from the blistering sun, which was a feeling you were sure you'd find yourself embracing now and again. And so, looking at the broad, gleeful grin Bokuto wore as he continued to play with campers, you thought maybe you could also learn to embrace the presence of Bokuto Koutarou.

✰ continue reading... part two ✰

#bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou #haikyuu bokuto #Bokuto Koutarou x reader #haikyuu reader insert #bokuto series #bokuto imagine #camp counselor au #haikyuu fanfiction #love like summer rain series

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grimmjowkurosakidrake · 3 years

Text

Can’t stay the same

Summary: Part five of my Time travel fic: The end is were we begin

Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke

Lenght: 2,024 Words

Quick disclaimer: This chapter was commissioned by the always great @birkastan2018 who actually helped me with my grammar and spelling in the fic!

@witcheswritings !

Feel free to DM Aquelarre if you want to commission a fic even if it’s not Naruto related

Sakura being trained by Itachi and Shisui feels wrong.

But Sasuke can’t deny that she’s getting stronger. Her stamina has increased under his cousin’s merciless training regime, and even her prior, almost inexistent tolerance to pain has developed in a way he could have only dreamed of under his (or even Kakashi’s) tutelage.

Their sensei had always been far too soft on her; always hesitant to really push her because he was afraid that she’d get hurt.

Naruto and Sasuke always went along with the idea that they could protect their female teammate no matter what happened.

And they could, they were strong back then and Sasuke is sure they will become even stronger in the future.

But that was not the point then and it isn’t the point now.

Sakura is a shinobi, a kunoichi. If she at some point wanted to be the sort of person that needed to be saved or protected, she would’ve stayed a civilian. She wasn’t obligated in any way to continue her life as a Shinobi, Sakura didn’t have any ties to the shinobi world in the sense that she didn’t come from any clan.

She chose the life of a kunoichi.

It took years for him and Naruto to understand this, and allow her to bloom in her own right.

Kakashi is another story entirely. Sasuke could never understand the man, even as an adult the roots of his teacher’s trauma were always a mystery to him.

Maybe he just didn’t know how to train a girl. Or he probably didn’t even know how to train anyone if the rumours of him never taking on a team were true.

Maybe he simply wasn’t interested in training a young civilian girl with no foundation other than the academy’s sloppy teaching methods. Especially when he had the only survivor of the Uchiha massacre and the Kyuubi’s vessel to deal with.

Maybe she reminded him too much of Rin, his first teammate. A girl that was said to be bright and sunny; always happy and ready to help her team in whatever way she could.

A girl eternally in love with her cold teammate Kakashi, even though their loving and kind third teammate would have given her the sun and the stars if she so desired.

Whatever the reasons behind Kakashi’s negligence of Sakura, the truth was she could have never truly bloomed as a kunoichi under the care of their team.

It wasn’t until he left the village, Naruto followed Jiraiya to advance his own training, and Kakashi completely disappeared from her life until Naruto’s return, that she finally set out on her own path as a ninja.

Now she trains her stamina and speed with Shisui every other morning. She wakes up at dawn on the days she meets with his cousin to challenge her body to the brink. Shisui has her running endless laps and sparring with him, and even though she has no hope of pinning him in her current state - Sakura keeps going. Sasuke even found her carrying Naruto on her back as a way to build up her strength.

Or so, Shisui said with a smirk dancing on his mouth.

In addition to her training with Shisui, Sakura joins her team on small missions and sometimes works one-on-one with Kakashi, who has started to take a more serious approach to her development.

Maybe he is being possessive of his “cute little genin” as he likes to call them, or maybe he’s finally realized that he can’t just ignore one of his students.

Sasuke doesn’t really care about his reasons. The important thing is that his team is acquiring the tools they need to defend themselves, to survive, and to hopefully beat the odds they will face in the future.

Someday, he will take more time to consider Kakashi, the man who passed down his most powerful jutsu to him... just as his own father taught him their clan’s signature giant fireball.

But for now, with his brother safe and actually happy beside him everyday, Naruto and Sakura are his only worry. They are his most precious people; warm sources of light in his otherwise dark life.

Sakura also trains with Itachi when he has the time, but she doesn’t seem very keen on sharing what they work on.

“We’re trying to find her strengths,” shares his brother one night after Sakura leaves their house, refusing both his and Itachi’s offers to scort her home. “Something to make her stand out, like Naruto-kun’s Multiple Shadow Clone Technique or even our own Sharingan.”

Like her enhanced strength or her excellent chakra control.

“And have you found anything?” Asks the black haired boy, eager for results, “Her chakra control is excellent and I think she has an affinity for water.” he supplies, trying to sound nonchalant, but if his brother’s smirk is anything to go by, he’s not doing a great job of it.

Itachi shakes his head with a grimace. “Even thought her chakra control is better than average, her actual reserves are not nearly enough for her to sustain any form of actually damaging attack.”

Admittedly, Itachi was never really a teacher to begin with. He was a prodigy to his very core, and the only actual experience he ever had at teaching was with Sasuke (another prodigy) and Naruto, the host of the nine tailed beast.

“But there has to be something!” Sasuke recalls his wife’s monstrous strength, her unparalleled medical jutsu, her strength of a hundred seal... Sakura has so much potential.

“We are working on genjutsu at the moment,” concedes Itachi, black eyes looking at the koi pond their mother used to take care of before her banishment with the rest of the Uchiha traitors. Now, only Sasuke has time to spare for such things. “Not enough for her to be at an Uchiha’s, or even a Yuhi’s level. Just sufficient for her to break through one, or create a distraction for up to a minute tops.”

“That’s…” Mumbles Sasuke.

That’s not enough.

She’s stronger than she was at this point back in his original timeline, and she’ll probably be able to defend herself against the sound ninja better than she did last time. But her confidence is just as low as it was weeks ago. She still thinks she’s weak, and she still hesitates before every punch she throws at training.

She needs Tsunade, Sasuke finally realises.

There’s no way Itachi or Shisui can offer her the confidence or the tools that the slug princess passed onto Sakura as if she was her entire legacy.

Of course, for Sakura’s sake, Sasuke will make sure that the woman comes back.

But at the moment, there’s nothing he can do to force the sannin’s return to the village.

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

Today, Sasuke wakes up later than usual. He has a mission at noon, sharp. But he knows that Kakashi will take a four hours long detour to visit his dead teammates, so he’s not worried about it.

He arrives at their meeting point, a quarter after one in the afternoon where a restless Sakura and smug Naruto are waiting for him.

Sakura is leaning against a tree, looking at him with clear disappointment. But she’s not bold enough to voice her thoughts.

Naruto on the other hand, would never miss an opportunity to scold Sasuke “Sasuke!” He screams running from his place at Sakura’s feet to stop right in front Sasuke’s face. “You’re late!” Accuses the blond pointing a finger at him.

Of course, Sasuke is unfazed. “Is Kakashi here?” He asks in his usual bored tone, his dark eyes boring into Sakura.

She blushes at his stare and breaks eye contact before answering. “No,” she sighs, letting her body fall to a sitting position on the grass. She tucks her knees under her chin and hugs her shins with her delicate arms.

Watching the boys growl and snap at each other like a pair of two misbehaving little puppies, she probably wishes her teacher will arrive anytime soon.

When Kakashi finally arrives is not particularly relevant, they end up doing some chores for people around the village. Memorably, Sakura manages to lift an entire barrel of beer for the owner of a bar down the street from Naruto’s apartment.

And when all of their work is done, she carries Naruto on her back as he complains about their day, even though he was the one who asked Kakashi for harder missions.

Sasuke can’t say that he would like to be carried by a girl like this but he doesn’t like seeing Naruto taking advantage of Sakura’s kindness.

“This is because you pushed yourself too much,” complains Sakura as Naruto groans once again from the pain.

“You can’t even take care of yourself?” Snipes Sasuke, grumbling from behind the pair as Kakashi ruffles his hair affectionately.

Immediately, Naruto hops from Sakura’s back and tries to fight off Sasuke. The girl, of course, doesn’t allow it and hold the blond by his right arm.

“Do you have to do this every single time?” She struggles to pull Naruto back. “You’re supposed to be friends,” she snaps, clearly annoyed.

It’s true, Sasuke thinks. They are friends, and nothing can break their bond. But Naruto is still a child, and Sasuke is supposed to be one as well.

“Your teamwork seems to be suffering lately,” quips Kakashi.

“It’s Sasuke’s fault,” accuses Naruto, “always showing off and acting like he’s better than us,” he complains.

Sasuke smirks. “Become stronger than me, then,” he challenges the blond, “if you want to stop me from making you look bad.”

This time around, is Naruto’s turn to smile at him, clearly pleased with his words.

Kakashi sighs, finally looking up at them from his book. “Ok, that’s it for today,” he declares. “I have to fill out our reports, anyway.”

No one complains as their teacher leaves them. They’re already used to Kakashi disappearing on them to fill out reports or attend meetings with the Hokage or other Jounin.

“We should train some more,” offers Sasuke, already walking in the direction of their usual training grounds.

Naruto and Sakura are obviously unexcited about this. They’re already tired from their morning training and the missions they completed that afternoon. But neither of them have the heart to deny Sasuke. They know he’s right.

“Yeah,” sighs Sakura hesitantly trailing after the black haired boy “more training will do us some good.”

Naruto, never one to deny an opportunity to train, follows them promptly. “Of course!” He smiles, “Sakura-chan and I should fight Sasuke!” Exclaims the blond planting his right hand of her shoulder in a friendly manner. “I’m sure we can take him.”

Sakura, for the first time in a long time, ever since he left his wife back in his timeline, smiles confidently. “That could be fun,” she smirks. “I’m sure Sasuke-kun is up for the challenge.”

“I’ll tell you what.” Sasuke smirks, stops in the middle of the street and looks squarely at his teammates. “Loser pays for lunch.”

Sakura and Naruto grin at each other, ready to fight him as soon as they reach their designated training area.

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

Sadly, just like last time, they are distracted by the Hokage’s grandson and his little friends as the children try to rope them into one of their games.

Ninja playing ninja sounds ludicrous, but Sasuke knows this is exactly what they’re doing. Just a group of kids pretending to be adults.

As he senses the sand sibling’s chakra getting closer, with each signature more menacing and powerful than the one before - he realizes that they were never ready for this encounter. Up until this point, they were never anything more than children playing ninja.

They thought they’d already experienced the worst the shinobi world had to offer, but...

They couldn’t have been more wrong. They didn’t know it then, but even people like Gaara were nothing compared to the dangers that awaited them in the future.

As these Suna chakra signatures become stronger, Sasuke makes sure to stand protectively in front of his teammates when they finally come face to face with Temari and Kankuro.

Gaara’s bloodthirsty presence hides above them. I hope you like this chapter and I specially hope @birkastan2018 likes it!!!

#Sasusaku #Sakura Haruno #Sasuke Uchiha #naruto fanfiction #time travel fic #the end is where we begin #commisionwork #taking commisions #commission #fanfiction #fanfic commissions

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kieraelieson · 4 years

Text

Chained to a Wall

Oooh for a prompt, how about chained to a wall with Logan? Maybe with a sort of medieval fantasy like world? Prompt by Anon

Logan woke groggily, lifting a hand to his head and surprised at the chain attached to it. It took him a moment to shake off enough of the fuzz from his mind to realize he was in a cell, chained to the wall with only a few feet of chain.

A boy walked by, and froze, turning to him with wide eyes. “He did it! You’re really here!”

Logan was more than a little confused. “What’s going on?”

The boy seemed to have many thoughts passing through his mind, his forehead creased in thought, and when he spoke he completely ignored Logan’s question. “Are you happy?”

“Am I— am I what?” Logan asked, completely confused.

“Happy.”

Logan shook his head. “I don’t- I suppose not. I’m more confused than anything else. What’s happening? Why am I here?”

The boy’s mouth opened, and then shut. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you.”

That was at least something. This boy was someone’s servant, most likely, judging by his clothes, and judging by the obvious magical residue spotted on his face and glasses his master was probably a magician. So Logan had been kidnapped by a magician. He would have guessed for ransom except for the question of whether or not he was happy. That certainly made things more confusing. Perhaps revenge? He didn’t think he’d made enemies, but perhaps revenge against his parents.

“What can you tell me?” Logan asked.

“Ummm… hopefully, you’ll only be here for a month.”

“That seems like a strange thing to be allowed to tell me.”

The boy frowned. “Well, I don’t know. It’s not a promise. Especially if you get happy it’ll take longer.”

“I fail to see why that has any significance.”

The boy’s face screwed up in thought. “I don’t think I can tell you either. I have to ask my—uhhhh, my master.” And then he turned and ran off.

Logan just sighed. This was certainly not how he’d expected the day to go. He got up, testing his limits. He couldn’t quite reach the bars of the cell with how far the chain let him go. There was a small bed, which was surprisingly soft for something in a cell, and around the bucket in the corner was hung a curtain. There was a spigot which trickled out water, and a small grated drain. The cell was clean too.

It was reasonable, if bare. Which only confused him more. Why kidnap someone and put them in a cell if you intended on treating them reasonably? He would’ve thought that cells were for prisoners you intended to make miserable, and otherwise you would give them a proper, though well locked, room.

A door down the hallway opened, and Logan felt a spike of fear through him at the sound of heavy footsteps. But his confusion only grew when he recognized the man that appeared.

“Janus? You… why?”

Janus’s face was as even and smooth as stone. “I don’t wish you harm. But you will stay here.”

Logan stood up. “Why?! What does this accomplish?! My parents have always favored you! You would merely have to ask, and almost anything could be yours.”

Janus didn’t betray a single emotion. “I will not tell you my purposes.”

Anger rushed through Logan. “You are insane! Nothing will come of this! No matter how ‘unhappy’ you make me, it won’t get you anything you wouldn’t have already gotten without this treachery.”

“Unhappy—? Patton. Patton, come back down here!” Janus called.

The boy came running. “Yes?”

“What did you tell him?”

Patton suddenly looked very worried. “I didn’t say anything you said not to! I told him it might be a month.”

Janus sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “And why is he saying things about being unhappy?”

Patton frowned in confusion. “I thought that was the point?”

Janus sighed again, but it was mixed with a slight chuckle. He knelt and put his hands on Patton’s shoulders. “That is not what I said. But let’s not talk to Logan about any of that any more, ok?”

Patton nodded readily. “Sorry.”

“Why don’t you go get dinner into trays now, ok?”

“Ok! Bye, Logan!” Patton waved and ran off again.

Logan was still confused. He was getting incredibly mixed signals.

“So what is this?”

“I’ve already said I won’t explain my purposes. But, essentially, you are my prisoner until the time I release you. Patton was correct, I estimate it will take a month for me to be ready to let you go.”

“But why?”

Janus raised an eyebrow slightly. “How many of the meetings your father holds do you attend?”

Logan frowned. “Most of them.”

“Then you ought to be able to figure it out on your own.”

••^*^••

Logan had been in the cell for a week now, and was incredibly bored. Patton visited many times each day, and Janus would often come have cryptic conversations with him in the evenings, but that still left him bored. And restless, not that he could do anything about it. Other than pace at the limit of the chain, back and forth, over and over, still trying fruitlessly to figure out why he was here and why he ought to know.

And then Patton came skipping down, holding a cookie in each hand. “Da—- Janus said we could both have one!”

Logan put on a bright smile. “Thank you, Patton! You know, I was curious, we both have glasses, but I’m wondering how different they are.”

Patton’s head cocked to the side in clear interest. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you come in? We can sit on my bed and have a picnic with the cookies and test each other’s glasses.” Honestly, Logan didn’t think that Patton would fall for it, though he hoped he would.

“Ok!” Patton fished a key out of his pocket and opened the cell door.

That had been even easier than Logan would’ve guessed. Patton came right in and sat on his bed.

Logan sat down calmly, trying not to startle Patton, before he grabbed him, holding his arms tightly.

But Patton still didn’t startle, just trying to tip his head to look at Logan. “You’re not very good at giving hugs.”

Logan let out an annoyed sigh. “This isn’t a hug, I’m trapping you. Call Janus.”

Patton shrugged slightly. “It’s kind of like a hug.”

“Just call him.”

Patton opened his mouth, and then shut it again. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“Calling him Janus when we’re at home.” Patton gave a brief pout, and then took a deep breath and shouted. “Janus!”

Janus didn’t come quickly. His steps seemed even more slow than usual.

“Yes?”

“Logan’s trapping me.” Patton said readily.

Logan didn’t even have a chance of looking threatening, not with Patton acting as if it was just all a poorly executed hug. But he could still try. “I know Patton isn’t your servant.”

Janus raised an eyebrow lazily. “And what is he then?”

“He’s your son. You wouldn’t want him to get hurt.”

Janus clapped slowly. “Congratulations, it only took you a week to realize what most women whisper about after the first meeting.”

Logan frowned.

“Comfy, Patton?”

Patton nodded. “I’m good!”

Logan sighed in defeat, releasing Patton.

“I’m sorry to say it, as I’m sure it’s frustrating, but you’re in my house, Logan. You won’t be winning any of these little battles.”

“But why are you keeping me here!?” Logan yelled. “There’s no benefit to you! And once I get out you’ll be arrested for treason!”

“Come on out, Patton,” Janus said.

“You are not the man my father thinks you are!”

For once, there was a flicker of something over Janus’s face, but he just closed the cell, took Patton, and left.

••^*^••

Logan was provided with books after that, and Patton was strictly forbidden from entering his cell.

And then one day Janus came downstairs, looking uncharacteristically annoyed. “I’ve lost a bet. You have the option to come upstairs for dinner tonight.”

Logan was surprised, but nodded. “Yes.”

Janus came into his cell, putting a spell over the cuff on his wrist before taking the chain off. “You won’t be able to leave the house. I’d rather not have to fight over it.”

Logan nodded solemnly, though he had little intention of passing up an attempt at escape if it presented itself.

When they made it up to the dining room Patton was standing next to the table, which was laid out with nearly a feast, and he looked both very tired and incredibly proud of himself.

Janus bowed slightly. “I am very pleased to attend, Patton.”

Logan also bowed slightly.

Patton’s bow was much less formal, more like a happy little bob.

The dinner was formal, and Logan was allowed to ask about the outside affairs, though he did not always receive answers. Patton was gently cut off several times throughout the dinner, just before he could say something that Logan desperately wanted to know about. Logan also was cut off every time his temper flared, and it made him feel very much like he was Patton’s age again.

But then Patton started excitedly telling Logan about his garden, and how things had grown in the last three days since the last time he’d rambled about it, and Janus asked Logan about the contents of the books he’d been reading, and the conversation grew into something far more enjoyable.

After dinner, where, in Logan’s experience, it was common for the adults to move to a sitting room with wine, Patton ran off, and came back in a few minutes with a tray. There were three steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and they all sat down on comfortable couches in another room to drink them.

Patton cuddled up to Janus’s side, and they all sat still, and comfortable, mostly staring into the fire.

Once Patton set his cup down Janus wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rested his hand in his hair, petting gently. Patton relaxed into it, and gradually fell asleep and slumped over into Janus’s lap.

“I don’t understand you,” Logan said quietly.

Janus just kept petting Patton’s hair, even though he seemed to be sound asleep. “You don’t need to.”

“I… I think… I might agree with you on the reason for your keeping me here, if you would explain it.”

“I believe the same. However, as much as it pains me to consistently anger you, it is necessary.”

Logan scowled. “What, so after kidnapping me and holding me here for two weeks you just want me to trust you that it’ll all turn out alright?”

“Actually, I would prefer you didn’t trust me. Patton wasn’t far off when he said that if you were to become happy it would require a longer stay.”

“And what’s wrong with being happy?!” Logan snapped, though he was careful to keep his voice down. “If this is supposed to be some kind of lesson I highly doubt I’m learning anything worthwhile.”

“It is not a lesson.”

“Then what is it?!”

Patton stirred slightly, and Janus glared at Logan, but soon Patton was breathing evenly again.

“I can’t tell you. Telling you would entirely defeat the purpose.”

Logan scowled, and drank the last sip of his drink, which was by that point cold.

••^*^••

If the goal was to make him miserable they were certainly succeeding. Once he’d almost gotten Patton to tell him everything he knew, which resulted in a spell being cast over Patton that caused him to clap his hand over his mouth whenever he spoke about what Janus decided was ‘secret information’. It made Patton a little grumpy, and made Logan far more annoyed.

And then the books stopped coming. Only the same books, repeated over again, whenever he’d finished the ones he had. It was beyond frustrating. Especially when he was no closer to either an explanation or escape.

And… while he would never, ever admit to it, he found himself getting homesick as well.

In a way, he wished he could just fall asleep and stay asleep until the time was up. Until he could go home again. And for an entire day he tried to. He ignored Patton, and Janus, and just laid on the bed, trying to fall asleep and stay asleep. And barring that, to silently think about why he could be here.

He wasn’t getting any answers.

The cell door swung open, and he ignored it until he was suddenly swooped up into a bridal carry.

He didn’t bother protesting. It was probably what Janus wanted anyway.

“Pouting like that isn’t doing you any good,” Janus said, carrying him out of the cell and upstairs.

Logan ignored him. Until he was taken outside. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.

Janus plopped him down on the ground, and Logan sat up and looked around. It seemed he was in Patton’s garden, which was soon confirmed by a dirt covered Patton appearing and holding out a pear to him, wrapped in a cloth.

“This is the best one from today! You can eat it!”

Just being outside raised his spirits a lot, and Logan smiled as he took the pear. “Thank you.”

Patton beamed, and then went back to whatever he was doing.

“I doubt you will ever favor me the way your father has,” Janus said quietly, looking out at the garden. “But someday, when you’re king, remember Patton kindly.”

Logan nodded slowly. “I will.”

Janus sighed heavily, as if in relief, and Logan really looked at him for perhaps the first time since he’d been kidnapped. He seemed tired, and worn, and there were faint marks on his clothing. And they were on his sides and back, not on his front as Logan would expect from spell residue.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a court magician.”

“I know, but what have you been doing, specifically.”

“I can’t say.” Janus said tiredly. “If I could tell you, I certainly would.”

Logan turned to look out at the garden. “I believe you.”

••^*^••

Patton ran down the hallway, nearly slamming himself into the bars of the cage. “They did it, they did it, they did it, they did it!”

“What happened?!”

“They broke the curse!!”

“What curse?”

“Your curse!” Patton fumbled with keys to get the cell open and tackled Logan in a hug.

“I don’t understand.”

“Dad can tell you now!” Patton hastily undid the cuff from Logan’s wrist, and then there were other steps running towards them.

Logan barely had time to register that it was his father before he was scooped up in a massive bear hug. He gripped back just as tightly.

“Logan, I’m so sorry, I wanted to see you, truly. If there had been any way.”

Logan just hugged tighter, feeling suddenly like he might cry.

Janus had arrived at some point, and cleared his throat. “We can move upstairs, and explain everything to Logan.”

Logan could barely stand the waiting until they were upstairs and seated. “What was all this?”

“The kingdom to the west, you remember the truce we have with them was unsteady,” his father started.

Logan nodded.

“There is a faction, both of our own people and of theirs, that believe we should have taken them over long ago.”

Logan nodded. He’d heard of this briefly.

“This faction managed to get someone close enough to put a curse on you. We don’t know when exactly, only that it was several years ago.”

Logan nodded solemnly.

“They activated that curse roughly a month ago, and sent us a threat in such a way that we thought it was the other kingdom.”

Logan nodded very solemnly.

“It said that the effects of the curse would strike suddenly, in your happiest and most unsuspecting moment,” Janus said.

Logan turned to look at him, many things slotting into place in his mind.

“We’ve been trying to find them and to break the curse this whole time,” his father explained. “As a last option, Janus had a spell that would track the curse in reverse, but it would take time, at least several weeks.”

Janus nodded. “In the cuff, it’s why I kept it on you.”

“We had hoped to find them before that, but they were too well hidden. But once the spell worked we found them, and the curse is broken now.”

Logan nodded, his mind swimming with all of the information it had wanted for so long.

Janus slipped off of his chair, to his knees, head bowed. “Regardless of necessity, I deeply apologize for the way I’ve treated you.”

Logan and his father spoke almost exactly at the same time. “Please, get up.”

“You did well,” Logan said.

His father nodded firmly. “Janus, you are the main reason Logan is still here and well. You have my gratitude forever.”

Logan nodded. “Anything you want within my power to give, I will do it.”

Janus shook his head, but Patton suddenly piped up. “He needs a vacation!”

Janus froze, but didn’t say anything against what Patton had said.

Logan’s father spoke immediately. “Yes. Janus, please, rest. Take your time and train Patton.”

Logan was completely surprised to see Janus’s eyes grow wet as Patton ran over and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you.”

#bad things happen bingo #kiera's bthb #chained to a wall #sanders sides #misunderstandings #kidnapping #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders

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