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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

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Want You Dead II

Daemon Targaryen x Pirate!Reader | Part 1 2 3

Summary: Having agreed to Lord Corlys' terms, you were now slowly being restored into your house, just how Prince Daemon intended things to be. He was pleased that no matter how the days passed, your ascent to nobility did not erase the traits that made you a good pirate. However, he should have known your fire would draw men to you like moths. But gods be damned if he allows anyone else hold your flame.

Word Count: 17k+

Warnings: mentions of assault/rape, graphic depictions of violence, sexual implications fem!reader, ADDITIONAL PAIRINGS (wink, wink), super slow burn (and i still hate myself it), made up characters and lore, time skips, mangled timeline, themes of betrayal, angst, curse words, misogyny, parts with fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: yeah so like i am highly certain im making a part 3 so 🤡 so much for two really long chapters. I'm also pretty sure I messed up the timeline in this chapter, specifically regarding the ages of Alicient's children. Just roll with it mkay! Don't think about it too much.

Make sure to leave comments and reblogs!! If you would like to be tagged, just say the word <3.

Taglist: @sweetybuzz25 @idathereader @deekaag @how2besalty @niiight-dreamerrrr @wondergal2001

"WHO THE FUCK WAS ON NIGHTSHIFT?!" the prince erupted the very moment he kicked the guardhouse doors open.

The prince was known to be unhinged. It was not uncommon for him to arrive somewhere unannounced, demanding audience or answers. And yet in this moment, there was a roar of a dragon many of the men had not yet seen. There was a fire in his eyes that could only be put out with blood. And whatever it was the men were doing before Daemon arrived was quickly forgotten or abandoned.

The prince heaved at the silence and shoved the nearest man next to him out of anger, letting out a prolonged shout, "ANSWER ME!"

As the man who fell on the ground gathered himself up, Daemon took a sword from one of the containers and raises it as his ears practically steam, "YOU WILL BRING EVERY MAN THAT WAS ON THE NIGHTSHIT TO ME IN AN HOUR, OR--" he cuts himself off, the vein on his neck relaxed finally, "I shall find them myself and slay them with no explanation."

His jaw clenches as he mutters lowly, looking at each face in the room, "am I understood?"

There is a chorus of agreement.

Daemon throws the sword on the the ground and storms off.

I was in the ward, my eyes were heavy as was my body, and yet sleep would not come to me. The maesters made it clear to me, and Lord Corlys, who was present the entire time I was being tended to, that I should not leave my bed for a week unless absolutely necessary.

I was glad at the very least that I was situated next to a window where I could see the outside. In this moment, I was watching the sun set, wondering why in the silence of this room, my thoughts were so loud that I could find no peace in resting. Now that the horror had been addressed, now that I recounted what happened and angrily wiped my tears away as I explained I could not fall pregnant because my assaulter only used his fingers on me, I felt my fatigue catch up with me, that, and the memory similar incident I had at 13 that was never addressed.

Agatha, the woman I regarded as my mother, had just given birth to her second child at this point, Abigail. Her eldest child, William, was about only 3. Douglas, her husband, my adoptive father, had been out for work when three lords came to our house, asking about my necklace, asking about me.

At first, they said they knew my father, lord Rubin, and wanted to help me reclaim my title. Agatha turned them away, denying their words, which made them call her a lying whore, for I was clearly not her child.

They returned again and again, but eventually, they returned in the darkness of night. They tried to take me as I bathed and tried to touch me where I would not allow. They clawed for me still and laughed while they did. The only reason I still came a virgin at that time was because my father heard my screams and managed to fight them off with the help of our neighbors.

I ran away from home after that, feeling I was undeserving of Agatha and Douglas' protection, not only because I was bringing trouble to them, but as well as the fact I believed I had been made unclean by those lords disgusting fingers.

Tears stream down my face as I think of my parents and how badly they probably felt after I ran away.

I was lying in my bed, limp, yet my whole body burned in anger for my younger self. She was filled with self-loathing because she believed it was her fault. She thought thoughts like had she not been there, had she been stronger... but that was never the case. It matters not if you were careful, evil intent will prevail where evil is allowed to fester. In hearts of those evil men it has festered.

I hope they're all dead now.

My thoughts made a bitterness rise in my throat that I had not tasted in a long time. My anger was ugly, and fully draining.

Yet still... slumber shuns me away.

There is a noise far off by the entrance suddenly. I vaguely hear two voices, but think nothing of it. Upon hearing a loud voice echo in the room however, it is much harder to ignore. I my hands to my ears, suddenly preferring the noise in my head than the one starting in the room.

"Your grace! I implore- she cannot-"

"Or would you rather I stuff each soldier in here with their crusty boots and body odor?" the telltale voice of an angry Prince Daemon quips harshly.

For a moment there is silence. I release a sigh and place my hands by my side. I close my eyes, relishing in the sound of nothing. But then I hear footsteps headed towards me and I then begin wonder if it would be better if I pretend to be asleep.

I feel him stand beside my bed. I hear the clanking of his armor, "my lady Rubin."

I do not respond to him.

"Do not ignore me. The maester told me you could not find sleep."

I press my lips before responding. My voice was still hoarse even after drinking a tea that was meant to help with it, "you are aware in order to fall asleep, you must pretend to be asleep first."

"I have summoned all the men in the nightshift to arrive in an hour," he speaks plainly, "if your rapist is not there, then I will have those guards find him and bring him here within the evening. If they fail, then I shall kill them all with-"

"No."

Daemon still where he stood. He is so utterly stunned by the word that he cannot even think.

I finally peel my eyes open and behold the prince's expression. I release a tired sigh, "you will not do anything about this matter while I am bedridden."

His armor clad body shivers, he feels sick, "you cannot possibly mean to forgive the shit beneath my boots RAPIST that-"

"DAEMON!" I scream, instantly regretting it because my voice was not any better than it was moments ago. I begin to rattle out into a cough.

Daemon face instantly drops, "water! Someone get some fucking water here!"

A maester comes running in with a tray witch held a pitcher of water and a cup. Daemon grabs the tray from him, dismissing him, then places it on the beside table. He pours me a glass and hands it to me in a way that would not require our skin to touch.

I calm myself and take the cup from him, sitting up slowly. I down the lukewarm water then place the cup on the tray to my side. I look up at Daemon, who's violet eyes were burning.

"Come closer," I whisper in High Valyrian.

Daemon drops to his knees in an instant and I am honestly taken aback by it. I shift in my bed and pat my hand to my side, wordlessly beckoning him. He gives me a hesitant look and yet obliges after a moment.

"May I?" I mutter after he sits, raising my hand out to him.

"You need not ever ask me if I want your touch," he responds in High Valyrian, lowering his gaze upon me, "I have craved it for so long."

I take his hand into mine and lean my head back on the surface behind me, closing my eyes, "my knees betrayed me when I was climbing the stairs with Lord Corlys. And when he touched me in an attempt to help, I jolted and descended down the entire flight."

His voice is loud as he quickly retorts, "he shouldn't have touched-"

"He had to carry me here," I turn to him, slowly opening my eyes.

Daemon grows silent again.

"I couldn't even stand after falling. I was lucky I only got bruises out of it."

"I should have been the one to carry you here instead," he replies in his mother tongue, turning to his lap. His free hand tightly curls into a fist.

"I am not a deer that is meant to be thrown over shoulder."

Daemon turns back to me, "I will have a litter out for you."

"I will not be made a spectacle of."

"THEN WHAT!" he blurts, ripping his hand away as he quickly stands, "what shall you have me do for I will not allow that nothing be done?!"

"Let me rest!" I whimper, feeling my eyes water over how pained my voice and body was, "allow me the courtesy of healing, regaining my strength, and then... I will face the rapist myself."

Daemon's face his hard. He wants to scream, to find satisfaction tonight, and yet he contains all this. He reaches in his pocket, fingers fiddling with the gem he always had with him. He clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth, "what did the vermin look like?"

I release a sigh, as I turn to the blankets around me, tears running down my face, "he had dark hair, dark eyes. He was tall and--" I shudder, "impossibly strong." I suck in a breath, "I scarred him, cheek down to his lips from when I was captured," I turn back to Daemon, who's face contorted upon hearing that. I bring my mind back to the grim moment and open my mouth, "he was wearing a hood. I think it was blu--"

"Enough," he blurts, making me cease my words with a gasp.

Daemon does not enjoy my look of tension, my look of vulnerability, and yet... he could not bring himself to address it. He shifts from where he stands in such a way the necklace hid would remain hidden as he pulls it into his hand, "I will find him tonight. I swear on my life. I will not kill him, but I will hurt him so much that he wish he were dead, but I will keep him alive just enough for you to kill him."

His words ring in my ears like a bell in a tower. The anger inside me was thrilled by the idea, but my mind was so tired that all I could do was look out the window and take in the night sky.

Daemon did not know what he was expecting, but the silence in the room was gnawing at him. He shoves his hand back in his pocket and decided then to simply leave.

When he does, I whip my head to the side and call out to him. My voice is so broken however that not a single sound came out.

Daemon's face was chilling under the light of a torch.

He was sat on a wooden stump in front of some 50 men, all nervous, all eager to know why the prince had thrown a fit towards the men who worked the nightshift. He had a ruby necklace in his hand and his eyes were fixed on the item. His calmness was making the tension around wind even more.

"Caraxes," he calls, barely raising his voice, and yet his dragon obeys the call and comes crying with fury from the roof of the building behind his master.

Now that all the men before him were scared shitless, he allows a few moments to pass, making sure the servants mutter to each other about how angry their prince was before he said another word.

Daemon looks up to his dragon, gripping the ruby before putting it away. He mutters that the Caraxes raise his head and upon doing so, the prince commands, "dracarys."

The night sky is overpowered by fire and each man looks up to in terrified awe of the flames burning overhead. The light finds each of their faces, exposing every detail to Daemon's keen eyes.

He sees then, scar from cheek to lip, on a man who was at the very back. Caraxes closes his mouth with a hiss, allowing the darkness to creep up on everyone again.

Daemon's eyes are fixed on his target, blood boiling at the audacity of him to come here thinking he would not be caught, absolutely outraged that he was feigning innocence and ignorance. Part of him wished that he had run, then he would be justified in chasing him down and cutting his legs off. Even now he prayed the vermin would turn to the prince and be so absolutely terrified that he start running so he could start chasing.

But then he realizes something that makes him stand quickly form his seat. All the men around him still at that.

He chuckles darkly.

Nothing is stopping him from doing just that to him right now.

And so the men watch as the prince strides forward; they were not quick enough to make way for him as Daemon's shoulders bump against their shoulder plates.

He draws his hand out to the man with the scarred face and tugs at his metal collar, "strip yourself."

He is too stunned to even move.

Daemon shakes him, "STRIP YOURSELF!" He throws him down, causing the man to fall to the floor, "Or I will have the whole guardhouse rip that armor off your body."

"My lord," the man whines, "I do not-"

Daemon has his sword pointed at him in but a second, "I would not speak another word, if I wanted to keep my tongue." He watches as the man gets on his knees and shivers. He is enraged by his stillness, "FUCKING STRIP HIM!"

Caraxes screams, feeling the anger of his rider.

The men go upon him and undo his armor. Once he is left in nothing but his pants and his shirt, Daemon slowly steps towards him, blade inching near his skin, piercing him slowly, "now run."

He holds back his screams, but it is futile when the prince rips his shoulder muscle up. Daemon listens to his pathetic cries, lips curling in disgust, "run, vermin."

"Your grace, I-"

Daemon kicks his face, which sends him shooting back, "I'M ASKING YOU TO RUN WITH YOUR LEGS, NOT WITH YOUR MOUTH."

He man is writhing in pain, and his groans annoy Daemon, "you will hurt worse than you've hurt regardless if you run or not."

Upon realizing the man would not get up anytime soon, he kicks him back down on the floor before he can rise up. The prince steps on the cut on the man's skin, making him scream out in anguish. Daemon makes sure to watch everyone's reaction to the piercing noise. Caraxes adds to it with his one screech.

Once the sound dampens, Daemon raises finally speaks, "last night this man broke the oath he swore to keep as a member of the royal guard. Instead of protecting the subjects of this realm, he did the very act he was meant to condemn. He deluded himself in claiming a perverted form of justice when he raped a defenseless woman as a form of revenge.

"And not only did he dishonor the royal guards by overpowering someone in an unfair fight, but he dishonored me," he drums on his chest, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen, second born after King Viserys, by assaulting the woman I promised to marry."

The crowd breaks into gasps and grumbles. The man beneath his books begins to sob, "but my lord! My lord, she was shackl-"

Daemon kicks him repeatedly as he seethes, "shut the fuck up."

The man's cries excite Caraxes into another scream. Daemon heaves, feeling the thirst of his Blood Wyrm course through him. It takes so much in him not to say the word and end the life of the pathetic man. His entire body was practically buzzing with a thirst for blood. But he turns to his dragon, raising a hand at him to calm him down. Caraxes clicks in disappointment.

For a moment, the prince basks in the man's pain. As much as his fingers itch to inflict even more on him, with great restraint, he turns away, "take him to a cell before I kill him," Daemon commands as he walks off.

It was on the 3rd day of my bed rest that I finally asked the maesters if there had been any word from Prince Daemon. Upon being told that there was none, I proceeded to ask if perhaps I was visited while I was asleep. The look the maester gave me after that was one of pity, as if I was delusional to expect that I be visited by anyone at all.

I was visited though, but not by the Valyrian I wanted. Lord Corlys came on the 5th day of my bed rest. He was kind, he instructed the maesters to keep me well fed and even brought me literature to amuse myself with. It was on that very same day I realized the prince was not coming to visit me.

It hurt of course, and the more I tried to convince myself that what the maesters said about their prince was true, how he was rogue and only ever did things that benefit himself, the more I thought about how I pathetic I was into thinking he actually cared for me.

And so today, the very first day I was allowed to walk and go wherever I wanted, I blew off steam on the training ground in the early morning so I wouldn't have to share it with anyone.

"This is the first thing you do after being allowed to stand?"

The voice is familiar, too familiar in fact, considering I did not hear it at all during my recovery. I ignore him, focusing on the inanimate target before me, allowing the extra shot of anger that coursed through me now flow out of me.

He speaks in High Valyrian, "have you now become so proud that you are to be reinstated as a Lady that you will not even greet your prince?"

I halt for a moment, enraged by the sentiment. I grip my sword tightly then hack on the hay dummy particularly, "greetings, prince Daemon!"

The man's lips curve at the show of strength. I hear him chuckle, "though it gladdens me to see your might, I'm worried you might overexert yourself."

I scoff, opting to twirl my weapon in my hand instead, "I did not think it mattered to you what I do anymore, considering you did not come to me in 10 days."

Daemon brings his hands together in front of him, "the maesters told me it would take a week for you to heal."

"A week is not 10 days," I blurt quickly, whipping my head to him, "Targaryen scum."

Daemon smirks at me.

My face twists the opposite way and my pulse quickens in anger. Sensing my hostility, the man draws his sword out just in time before my blade could hit him.

My fury is further fueled by his mischievous expression. We prance around, boots grinding the dirt beneath it as we stomp to match the other's stance. Daemon is too thrilled by the sounds of clanking swords, and it becomes clear to me that he thinks this is a game, that I was doing this to show him how much I had recovered, and so I make it a point to nick him when I get the chance. The chance comes quickly when he laughs as he pulls back to avoid my charge.

He lets out a shocked grunt when I rip the middle part of the sleeve of his coat deep enough that blood is drawn.

Our fight ends here.

The prince looks at me for a moment, betrayed, obviously only now realizing that I was, in fact, pissed that he did not visit me at all while I was bedridden. He turns to his cut, confused by the pain. I drop the sword in my hand and turn, walking away.

"I did not think you wanted my company," he calls as he wipes the blood with his fingers. Daemon averts his gaze from his wound to me, "I confess, I wouldn't have known what to do had I visited anyway."

I scoff in disbelief, grinding my teeth in annoyance. I take in his pathetic look and I storm towards him, heaving in anger. My eyes grow glassy when I growl, "I was fucking raped, you stupid piece of shit!"

Daemon takes a step back for every step I took towards him.

"You are so incorrigible that you cannot care to think about anything but yourself!" I bark, raising and accusing finger at him. "You are the only face I know here!" I whine, voice breaking as my tears betray me with their appearance. "You are the only one that doesn't look at me like I'm broken or tainted or fucking stupid, and yet here you are looking down at me as if I am!"

Daemon's face twitches at the shrillness of my screams. He is surprised when my hands dart out to his collar, "I didn't want you, Daemon," I pull him down to me, heaving helplessly as I finish my words in High Valyrian, "I needed you."

His hands raise around me but they do not land anywhere. His head is spinning. He never before has been so confused with what to do next.

I release him and walk off once again.

Daemon does not like that, which is why in his desperation, he darts his hands forward and grabs my arm. He instantly regrets it though when I jolt at the unforeseen contact and raise my hands up in defense, and out of instinct.

"Fuck," he pulls away quickly, raising both his hands up, "fuck, shit, fuck, apologies," he sputters, digging his fingers in his nape, "fuck, fuck, I-"

I shake my head, releasing a breath as my anger slowly melts at his guilty expression, "I touched you first without-"

"I told you you could," he says, "you can always touch me without-"

"I know," I cut him off, "still it was unlike me to do so."

Daemon watches me wipe my eyes before I turn back to him, "I have to go. I must get ready soon. I was granted audience with the king to discuss the reclamation of my title."

"Can I be granted audience as well?"

I sigh, turning away from him, "do I truly even have a choice?"

"You do," he retorts, eyes fixed on me.

I look at the prince for a moment. A foreign expression lingered in his eyes. I tilt my head, "I grant it to you now then... but make it quick."

He extends his hand out to me, asking in High Valyrian, "may I?"

I turn to his palm and place my own atop of his.

The prince's eyes remained fixed intently on me, starkly contrasting mine that were wandering the large, dark, and filthy place all over. The smell the massive building had was ten times worse than that of the bottom chamber of ship Jocelyn.

My left hand was also still firmly gripped in his right one. Daemon hat them hands pressed against his chest protectively.

"Where are we?" I finally ask as we make our stop in center of the massive place.

Daemon looks down at me, raking in my expression in silence.

I turn to him with an expectant look after receiving no response. He raises his head a fraction, eyes still on mine. I raise my brows as he moves my hand to his left one and side steps behind me. He presses his body flush against my back and places his right hand on my right shoulder, "the dragon pit."

My eyes widen at his admission. I look over my shoulder where his face was and shake my head in disapproval as my pulse quickens.

"Shhhh," he hushes as he presses his lips against my temple, "do not be nervous."

Yet out of nervousness, I involuntarily speak the name that popped into my mind, "Caraxes?"

In that very moment, there is a whine that echoes across the room. My breath hitches as the noise grows louder.

I wriggle out of Daemon's clutch. He hushes me again. He mutters in High Valyrian, "calm yourself, my love."

And from the very pit emerges a dragon head, screeching loudly. Suddenly I wonder if Daemon's words were for me or his dragon. Perhaps both.

Daemon does not enjoy the restlessness he was feeling across the room. He presses a kiss on my pulsing neck, breath hot against me as he speaks in the same language, "I am here. Nothing will hurt you."

Caraxes draws nearer. The dragon screeches yet again and shakes his head in a manner I can only hope was friendly.

"Calm yourself," Daemon commands, raising his right hand to his dragon, "I brought her here to meet you."

"Daemon," I mutter harshly in fear.

He presses his lips to my temple again, "calm yourself. He can sense your restlessness, same as I."

My breath hitches as I exhale and chuckle sardonically, "oh, pardon me for being nervous in front of a mother fucking dragon."

Daemon chuckles, his free hand coming to circle around my waist, "there's that fire. Caraxes will appreciate it."

At this point, the dragon is close enough that the hot huffs coming out of his nostrils was blowing against both mine and Daemon's being.

I decide to merely close my eyes and lean my head against Daemon's, "I have no idea why you want me to meet your dragon, but be quick about it so we can leave at once."

Daemon chuckles again, chin affectionately rubbing against my hair. He turns to his dragon and speaks in High Valyrian, "I have chosen her myself, Caraxes," he smiles, "she is a pretty as you, don't you agree?"

For a prolonged moment, there is only silence. I feel Daemon spread my hand open and soon enough my palms are then met with a warm and bumpy sensation.

"Open your eyes, my dear ruby," he instructs in the same language.

I release a breath before slowly opening my eyes. It seems as though the great eye before me opened at the same time. My lips part as Daemon guides my hand to stroke the side of Caraxes' face.

I finally feel brave enough to tear my gaze off of the creature's eye to take in the rest of his large body. I'm shocked at how unexpectedly smooth the feeling of his scales where against my hand.

"What fierce beauty you are, sweet dragon," I mutter in the language Caraxes is responsive to. For a moment, my heart jumps back into my throat as the beast makes quick clicking noises. I step back, falling into Daemon's arms and he hushed me yet again. Caraxes lifts his head, releasing a quick whine, then bares the other side of his face to me.

Daemon breaks into a laugh, heart soaring at his dragon's sentiment. I am in utter astonishment of how the beast reacted.

When Caraxes is close enough, I slowly bring my hand back down on him by my own will. In my surprise of how he leans in, my other hand darts up to his face. A gasp of surprise leaves my lips. The prince is, needless to say, pleased.

"My dragon is anything but sweet," Daemon says, slowly breaking away from me to go to the other side of Caraxes' head, praising him quickly, "good boy."

I stroke Caraxes' head in a more confident manner now. The creature closes his eyes and rests his head on the floor. I realize the rolling sound he was making was perhaps similar to that of a cat's purr. The thought makes me break into a smile, "you're just an overgrown kitten, aren't you?"

Daemon's own lips curve upward, unable to hide his amusement. He slowly walks over to me and says, "you are now bonded to a dragon."

I freeze in my actions and turn to him, knitting my brows, "surely, it's not that simple."

He chuckles, hand resting on Caraxes' snout, nonchalant, "he will, of course, answer only to my command, but now he knows your scent and knows of your connection to his master."

I turn to the dragon, "Caraxes is-"

I do not finish my thought as the said creature opens his eyes and lifts his head from the floor to look down upon me and his rider. I step back, feeling fear flood me again. Daemon catches me before I can step back any further, "careful. He is very responsive to his name."

I open my mouth but cannot speak a word.

Daemon chuckles one last time before turning to Caraxes, "go on now," he dismisses in High Valyrian, "go back to your cave and take a nap."

Caraxes releases a quick whine and obeys his master's order.

I watch as he slowly walks back down into the pit. When I finally tear my gaze away from Caraxes, I give Daemon a wide eyed look, "did you just command a dragon to take a nap?"

He looks at me for a moment before releasing an amused breath, "come now. You mustn't reek of dragon slobber when you go to meet the king."

When he takes my hand back in his, I ask him again, "and did your dragon respond to it?"

Daemon presses his lips together in a soft smile.

"My cats didn't even come to me when I called to them."

We begin to walk off when Daemon responds, "that's because your blood does not contain magic that calls out to felines."

I give him an incredulous look, "are you telling me you're a cat whisperer as well?"

Daemon could only think of one thing as he stood in the throne room, his attention was solely on one person alone. Rhaenyra, who was situated near him, could see the pleased look on her uncle's face and it made her so utterly curious. So, she followed his line of sight, wondering what had him in such a good mood today, then giggled to herself upon seeing what her uncle was looking at.

I grinned, bowing courteously to King Viserys right after he announced before all the lord and ladies present that he was recognizing me as Lady of house Rubin.

The hall erupted into cheers for me, and I yet I felt only a semblance of emotion to the sight of Lord Corlys' clapping. I nod graciously at him, offering a smile. He gives me a knowing look back, beckoning me over wordlessly.

I promptly make my to him but on my way though, I bump into something I did not see. When I do spot what hindered my passage, I see a head of silver hair and a boy that was knocked over to the floor, yet he sweetly tells me, "pardon me, my good lady."

My lips part in concern and my heart clenches at his sweet words. I crouch down to the boy, who surely was of Valyrian descent, "I apologize, my sweet prince. Are you hurt?"

The boy looks up at me as I extend a hand him.

I hear soft giggles beside me and I turn and see an older version of the boy, "oooh, look! Little Aemond got knocked over by a girl!"

I raise a brow at the bratty response of the child. I whip my head to the other child as he suddenly swatted my hand away and stands up on his own.

"Aegon!" the shrill voice of the queen called.

The two boys promptly still and turn to their mother. I rise as Queen Alicient walks over to me, "I apologize for my sons behavior. They keep running away from their keeper."

I smile at her, shaking my head, "children are no trouble to me," I turn to the younger boy, "prince Aemond is very sweet, and his brother," I turn to whom the queen addressed as Aegon, "is very sharp about his tongue."

The Queen looks down at her eldest, "what did you say to Lady Rubin?"

"Nothing, mother, I-"

"Not to me," I smile, "to his brother. But I suppose the occurrence is common."

I watch as Alicient's cheek turns a shade red. My expression drops, "I meant no impertinence, my queen. I apologize." I turn to Aegon, "I'm sure the prince will grow out of it and be a fine ruler one day."

I bow before them and quickly speak, "your majesties," before continuing to walk off.

"Lord Corlys."

"Lady Rubin," he greets when I am near him, "it seems you have a knack of attracting Targaryen prince."

I press my lips into a line, "I cannot help who I attract, though I can use it to my advantage."

He nods, softly chuckling. He then side steps to better reveal the woman beside him, "this is Princess Rhaenys," my face brightens at the sight of her, "my lady wife-"

"I have heard a great many things about you and your mighty dragon, Meleys, my princess," I excitedly retort in High Valyrian, a bit too quickly perhaps. The white haired princess raises her brows at me. I bow before her, "it is an absolute honor to meet you."

She hums as I straighten myself up, "My husband, Lord of the Tides, told me you were the reason for the loss of his thousands worth of goods," she takes a moment before adding, "how did you manage it and remain unscathed?"

I break into a wide smile, feeling my fingers tingle in excitement, "honestly, your grace," I turn to my feet then back to the princess, I continue in High Valyrian, "I was, in fact, scathed, brutally after my my capture. One of the guards snuck into my cell to get even over a scar I placed on his cheek."

Princess Rhaenys watches my expression. I press my lips into a smile, "there is a price to be paid for every exploit, the cost is blood, honor, and life, although never only mine. I have paid every price with an unwilling generosity," I turn from her to her husband, "tis why I have agreed to the terms of our Lord Velaryon with no fuss. Not only am I certain of my capabilities, but I also no longer wish to give helplessly to men with power. I did not want another of my crew to die either."

The princess turns to her husband, eyes bearing a glint in them. She speaks in her mother tongue, "your stories do her no justice."

Corlys leans towards her, "we have yet to see how quickly she can amass the payment of her debt."

"Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys," a voice calls, "Lady Rubin," a man walks up beside me, offering his hand out, "it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

I look at his hand for a moment, gripping my own before lifting it up and pulling a smile, "the pleasure's all mine, ser..."

The man with dark brown hair and blue eyes takes my hand gently in his, "tis Lord Aiden of house Greystoke."

I feel my skin rise up with goosebumps when he presses his lips on the back of my hand. I withdraw my hand quickly right after. Lord Aiden does not seem to mind as he smiles and says, "I have heard of your exploits with Lord Corlys, my lady, and I say I am impressed."

I turn to Corlys and hold in a chuckle, "you misunderstand. I have not yet done exploits with Lord Corlys."

The young lord tilts his head and gives a confused puppy look. My lips curve in endearment. He raises a hand, "would you mind then if you continued on with this tale while sharing a glass of wine with me?"

Before Lord Corlys can but in, another voice speaks, "actually, I was wondering the same thing." I turn to the opposite direction and find a face of a smirking yellow haired man. He too extends his hand out to me, "Lord Jason Lannister."

I take one look of his calloused hands and clench my jaw. I bow at him instead, "a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lord Jason."

The man looks at me for a moment, gripping his extended hand and recovering to his side. He clears his throat.

"It seems we shall have to continue our chat some other time, my lady," princess Rhaenys calls out in High Valyrian, making everyone turn to her.

My lips part in disappointment, "I do not care to converse with these lords."

Lord Corlys laughs at that.

"How lucky am I to be born a prince then," a voice calls from behind me. I turn over and see the face of prince Daemon, lips curved upward, and yet there was no amusement in his eyes.

"How impressive it is that you understand the tongue of the dragon," Lord Aiden says, eyes fixed on me. I turn from Daemon to him, unable to contain my amused chuckle at his glimmering eyes and admiring expression, "I know a great many languages, my lord."

"You must be well traveled then," he smiles.

"Like a pirate," Daemon blurts firmly, making both me and Aiden turn to him.

Aiden ignores him and adds, "I would love to hear about your travels, my lady Rubin." He nods bows and smiles with such reverence that I cannot contain my pleased expression.

Daemon's eyes are darker now, and as he steps closer, he speaks sternly, "Lady Rubin and I have premade plans."

I tilt my head to him, lips curving into a small smirk, "we do?"

"An execution," Daemon retorts plainly.

My amused expression beings to melt away.

Daemon looks at the concerned faces around him, pleased by it, but then his eyes fall on mine and he adds in a blurt, "--of sorts."

I suck in a breath and turn away from the prince, "it has been a pleasure to converse with you all," I turn to the princess in particular and smile, continuing in High Valyrian, "I look forward to continuing our chat, my princess."

Rhaenys nods, lips pressed in a soft smile.

"Do not forget about me, my lady," Aiden calls, making me turn to him.

I grin at this hopefully bright expression, "I would not dare dream of it, my lord."

I turn then to Daemon who gives me a pointed look before walking off. I give one quick curtsy then rush after the long striding prince.

I feel all the eyes of the room turn to me as I make haste towards the exit where the prince was headed. I realize he is doing it on purpose, making me run after him, as he weaves through the crowd. I am quicker and swifter then he'd give me credit for though.

The moment we make it out to the hall, Daemon speaks, "you enjoyed that."

"You will have to be more specific, Targaryen scum," I retort in High Valyrian.

"Those men! Fawning for you!" he blurts, still not relenting his quick pace.

I chuckle, having no choice but to run to catch up with him, "I enjoy your vexation to it."

He halts abruptly, causing me to slam onto his back with much force. I reel backwards as the prince turns about and walks towards me. When I catch his expression, I bite my lip to hold in a laugh. He is entirely serious when he speaks, but I find no threat in them, "it would do you good to burn in mind that no man shall have you but I."

I lick my lips and shake my head mockingly in disappointment, "oh, boys, so naturally uninclined to share."

"I am a prince," he seethes, enunciating each word clearly, face coming dangerously close to mine, "I was not taught to share, nor do I plan on doing so any time soon."

Daemon is a bit taken aback by the quick peck I place on his lips. His violet eyes darken where mine shimmer, "good to know, little boy."

With that, I dash past him and continue off to where he was heading originally.

It took two men to drag the raggedy body of the man in front of the prince and I. I look at the man, trying to distinguish if it was in fact the man who attacked me, but his body was so torn and filthy, and his face so distraught that I could not make out his features, nor distinguish the scar I left on him.

I turn to Daemon, who seems to sense my apprehension, and so he speaks, "do you remember her, rat?" the prince shifts from where he stood, turning his gaze to the man, "bask in the glory of your executioner."

I watch as the man writhes on the ground in pain. His limbs were cut in many ways, and it appeared to me he could no longer feel them. Suddenly, I fear that Daemon took the wrong person and made him suffer for the wrongs of another. I turn to Daemon, "are you certain this is the man I described to you?"

"He confessed and plead by his sins to me," the prince spoke, turning to me, "I made sure he suffered while you healed."

"Please," the man, who had his face on the dirt, heaves with great difficulty, "let me die."

A shiver runs down my spine. My tear immediately prick in my eyes. I turn to the man on the ground. Daemon looks at me, excited by my look of wrath.

"You plead for the wrong things," I mutter, "you should plead for my mercy, for my forgiveness," my breath quickens as anger rips at me, "you should plead that I take pity in you and that I shall spare your life so that you may return to your family."

He whines, barely able to raise his head, "I could not live... knowing I shamed my family."

His words strike a chord in me. I shriek in anger, ripping the blade Daemon had sheathed my his side, momentarily surprising him, "AND YET YOU WISH I LIVE WITH THE SHAME YOU INFLICTED ME!?!"

I raise Daemon's sword with two hands, its weight literally too heavy to bare. It didn't help that I was trembling in anger. It took so much for me not to drop the weapon.

Daemon moves to help me, but I shove him off. In turn, the sword slowly descends to the ground. With all my strength, made sure not to him the man on the floor because if I hurt him, I want to do it with intention. Still, I can't for the life of me decide whether or not I should let him die by my blade.

Tears run down my face, "perhaps I should let you live-- recover. Then you'd have a wife and daughter. Then you'd feel the fear in your soul over the idea they live in a world where men freely strut with intentions of desecrating them," I rapidly shake my head, "but that would be too good to you, wouldn't it? And too horrible to whom you would foolishly blindside into marriage.

"And it would be a shame if you birthed a son that would follow in your footsteps, and that he dare think it is his birthright to be vile," I cry, gripping the hilt of my sword with all my strength, "it would be-" I heave, trying to even out my breathing, "a great act of mercy for me to kill you, mercy to your pathetic self, and to the world that will be better off without you in it."

Yet I drop the sword, unable to cease the shivering of my hands, "but I will instead let The Stranger come for you, secretly in your cell, where you will wonder day after day when you will finally find relief. When your pain is hot, you will think of me, and how you so regret ever laying your filthy hands on me, for it is how I perceive you. Except I will heal from this horror and you will never."

Daemon watches me as I take deep breaths.

"Then you will know what it feels like to live with an irrevocable pain. Then you will know how it feels to live in a world, the same world where the person that hurt you struts freely."

After having my say, I release a breath and begin to walk back. I avert my gaze and allow tears to roll down my face.

The rapist is sobbing as well, uncontrollably, painfully, and begs with the remaining strength in him, "please."

The prince will not have it and grabs his sword, charging at the man. Daemon rips the man's head up by his matted hair. He screams because of it. It allows the prince the perfect opportunity to cut his tongue off. He screeches louder in pain. Daemon holds slimy prize up, "you've no idea how long I've been wanting to do that."

"I want to leave now," I say in High Valyrian, bringing my hands to my face, rubbing my wet skin back and forth.

Daemon turns over to me and stands, "throw him back in his cell," he commands one last time, walking over to me.

Once he is before me, I look up at him, wrapping my arms around myself, "can you take me somewhere?"

For a moment, Daemon thinks.

"I don't want to go to the chambers right now. I will not find relief nor rest."

He lowers his gaze, slowly speaking, "I plan to feed the vermin's tongue to Caraxes."

I nod avidly, "please take me with you."

Daemon turns back to me, lips pulling downward at the sight of my frantic expression. He nods then walks off, leading me to the dragon pit silently.

As we walk, I am aware of how the people we pass try so hard not to look, lest they reap the wrath of their furious looking prince.

And yet, while on out way to the pit, there is one that dares to grab our attention. I hear a voice call out my name, it is frantic sounding. I recognized it to be of Lord Aiden's but I ignore it. Prince Daemon does not, and dirtily looks out to whom spoke. He finds himself glaring daggers at the young man with dark hair and blue eyes, though it seemed he did not even notice, as he was too preoccupied with a troubled expression.

We arrive at the pit, and somehow, the stench is comforting.

"Caraxes!" Daemon calls loudly, striding forward, deeper into the place with confidence, "I came bearing a gift." He raises the tongue and wiggles it in the air. The sight is revolting to my eyes, and I turn away, involuntarily gagging.

Daemon awaits his mount as it screeches from beneath the room, slowly crawling out.

Caraxes lets out a screech once he is before his master. Daemon throws the chunk of flesh to the dragon's massive mouth. Caraxes quickly catches it and swallows without a problem.

I watch as the large beast whines and shakes his head. I feel my chest tighten in anxiousness over the actions. I raise my eyes and step back slowly as the dragon comes my way.

Daemon raises his hands to the dragon, "Caraxes! Listen to me, submit to me, obey me," he enumerates in High Valyrian.

Caraxes does his telltale clicking noise and ruffles his wings as he steps around, clearly agitated.

My heart begins to pound, "Daemon, I-"

"He can sense your distress," he says, quickly turning over to me, then back to Caraxes, "calm yourself, boy."

I wrap my arms tighter around myself, feeling my dread further intensify, "Forgive me, but I cannot control my-"

"Call out to him," Daemon says, walking backwards to meet me. I move close to the prince and share a frantic look. He meets my gaze and reaches his hand out to me, wordlessly asking for my permission. I place my hand in his as he commands his dragon in High Valyrian, "Caraxes, calm yourself."

"Calm yourself," I repeat in the same tongue.

"Louder, more conviction," Daemon says, bringing our joined hands up in front of him, "come to me."

"Come to me," I say a volume louder. I look from Daemon to the dragon and command, "come to me to calm yourself."

The moment he hears this, Daemon finds no need to watch his dragon as he crawls over. He fixes his gaze upon me and rests his cheek on the crown of my head.

When Caraxes is close enough, he huffs through his nostrils, steam coming out. I place both my palms on him and bite my lower lip to hold in my sobs.

"He must have thought your distress was because of him," Daemon says, "perhaps because he didn't share the treat."

I choke on my tears as a laugh escapes me. Caraxes responds by pushing up against my hands. He lays his head on the floor before us. I coo, stroking the dragon's face, "you are the most generous boy I know."

Daemon chuckles, stroking Caraxes all the same, "my dragon is anything but generous."

I allow some final tears run down my face before I sigh, "thank you," I lean close to Caraxes then turn to Daemon, "my sweet and generous dragon."

He looks at me and raises his hand to my face, "may I?"

My only response is leaning against his hand. He wipes my tears with the pad of his thumb, "no man deserves your tears."

I close my eyes, feeling tears streak down my face, "I know."

The princes draws his hand back, "would you like to take my sweet and generous dragon out for a ride?"

My heart drops and my pulse quickens. I ask an octave higher than normal, "by myself?"

Daemon breaks into a laugh. He leans into his dragon, entertainment, "my cunning pirate bride loses her wits when she is around my mount."

When our eyes meet, I raise my brows at him, "you have a cunning pirate bride?"

He smirks, extending his hand out to me again, "there she is."

I take his hand and he pulls me towards him. Caraxes lifts his head as we make our way to his saddle. Daemon begins to climb up on him, and soon after, he extends his hand out for me. I give him an apprehensive look, but take his hand again and he helps me climb up his dragon.

"Be gentle," I mumble as he situates me in front of him, locking me in between his body and the reins.

Daemon chuckles and I squeak as Caraxes begins to move, "I thought you liked it when I'm rough, my dear ruby."

"You," I whine, "not Caraxes."

Daemon laughs again. Caraxes shrieks upon hearing his name.

Two years had passed since the day my house was reinstated and acknowledged by the king. And within this time, begrudgingly, I only managed to get about half of the sum I owed Lord Corlys, which to be fair, was about exactly how much I stole from him, considering he charged me twice the amount.

And honestly, I had not initially anticipated that he wanted me to do so in a way that obeyed the law. I mean, I may be a lady but I was a pirate. What did he expect of me? This was which was why it was taking unimaginably long to accomplish what I could do then in mere months. I had to barter instead of threaten and create relations than crack skulls, and honestly, I was missing the violence a bit, especially when men thought it was ok to breath down my neck.

Make no mistake, pain was a friend I introduced to many of my new acquiantances.

It was also surprising that it seems to Lord Corlys, the grueling time in my eyes was quick in his. I told Princess Rhaenys that his husband was unimpressive in that matter, and she only laughed at that.

Today, I was returning from a month's voyage, coming home with more than I anticipated for such a short travel, which was why I was particularly chirpy.

At the moment, I was heading to the guestroom where the Lord of Driftmark was staying for the while he is in King's Landing for the birth of his first grandchild to Lord Laenor and Princess Rhaenyra.

I was still dressed in my travel attire, fresh off the boat as I made my way down the castle's halls. I hear a commotion come from one of the rooms across the hall. By the time I reach the door where the noise sourced, a boy with silver white hair storms out, followed by another who runs after him, calling, "Aegon, you'll get us in trouble again!"

"We'll only get in trouble is someone tells," the taller of the two says in response, raising a finger, "and you better not."

"Aye," I call out, making the two turn to me. I cross my arms as the two look at me with an nervous expression, "the queen should not know about how her sons are bickering in the hall," I walk over and sneak a look to their open door, "instead of, what? Studying?"

"Insolar person," Aegon attempts at High Valyrian.

I make a face at the kid and ask in the same tongue, "is that supposed to be some sort of insult?"

The princes are shocked, the one called Aemond is particularly impressed, "you can speak High Valyrian?"

"Amongst other things."

Aegon, however, is unimpressed and crosses his own arms to prove it, "I didn't understand it. You just made that up."

I relax my arms to the side and reply again in the same tongue, "you didn't understand it because you cannot speak this language."

He makes a cross face. His brother looks at me in astonishment.

I shake my head and offer a smile, "you don't have to worry about me telling your mother, but I do so humbly suggest you study the language while you're still young. It'll get harder to learn once you're older."

With that, I give them a quick bow in regard and walk past them, making my way to where I was going to in the first place.

"Will you stay for dinner?" the voice of Aemond asks from behind me.

I do not bother turning to him when I reply, "I'm only here to speak to Lord Corlys, then I am returning to my estate."

I make it to the room and announce myself before entering.

Upon stepping into the room, Lord Corlys wastes no time in applauding me for my latest exploits, ceaselessly impressed by my capabilities, though again to my eyes it was sluggish.

"Although I am somewhat pleased and amused by your compliments, I am fairly certain that you did not call me here for that."

Corlys nods, "yes. Well, while you were away, I had many lords come to me with proposals of marriage. I think because of our houses' alliance, they think it is my business what you do with yours."

I cannot help but roll my eyes, "that, and they could not possibly communicate such important proposals with a woman."

"Well, the woman was on a voyage," he says, handing me a box of scrolls where the many marriage proposals were.

I scoff at the sight of it, "I meant my handmaiden, Abigail, who is in charge of my estate when I am not present."

Corlys chuckles, "I will make sure to direct any further inquiries to your handmaiden then."

I release a sigh and nod in regard, "thank you, my lord," I turn to the box in hand, "and apologies."

He shakes his head, "worry not about it. I feel responsible for you as well anyway, as you are not only my old friend's remaining daughter, but you are also returning your debt at a promising rate."

I shake my head and chuckle, "I will be off then, Lord Corlys."

When I make it to Jocelyn, I break into an amused smile upon spotting the man waiting for me, "my Lord."

Lord Aiden perks up at the sight of me then nods in regard, "my Lady Rubin." I raise my brows at him as he moves towards me with a smile plastered on his face, "as soon as I heard you were here, I made haste to meet you, knowing you are as swift as you go as you come."

I break into a chuckle, "an astute observation."

The man beams at my reaction, "I will not waste your time by asking you to dinner for clearly you are ready to leave."

"Another astute observation," I nod.

"I am glad however to behold your glorious face," he smiles, making my lips curl upward. He mimics my expression, "I do hope one day we will be able to share a meal though."

I shake my head, ceaselessly amused by him and his softly curved lips, "one day, perhaps."

"Welcome home, my Lady," Abigail, with her rosy cheeks and golden-brown hair, smiles at me once I enter. I return her expression and pull her into a hug, "where is your older brother?"

"William is out tending to the animals."

I pull away, smiling, "just like your father," I look at her, pushing Abigail's hair behind her ear, "and you look just like your mother."

She shakes her head as she chuckles, "you know you don't have to keep telling me that every time you see me."

"Well, I can't help it, it's true," I pull away from her, "Agnes and Douglas raised me like their own and yet... I could not even repay them in this life."

Abigail takes my hand, "taking us in is more than enough, sister."

My heart swells at her regard. She smiles at me, then gasps, "oh, I nearly forgot." I look at her reluctant expression and she raises a finger before speaking, "the prince is here."

I release a breath of relief, "I thought you were going to say someone broke in."

"Well," Abigail's eyes trail off, "he kind of did."

I roll my eyes at the thought.

She continues, "he had me draw a bath in your quarters. I told him it was indecent," she stressed out, "but, then he asked me if I wanted to know what real indecency was, and I could not bare the thought of him speaking vulgarities to me, and so I did his bidding." Abigail gives me a regretful look, "for that I sincerely apologise, I-"

"I am not cross with you, my dear," I say, placing a hand on her shoulder, "the Targaryen scum on the one h-"

"My lady!"

I raise my hands in defeat, "the prince," I correct myself before releasing a sigh, "think nothing of it, Abigail. Just go about your duties. It's almost time for supper. I'm certain everyone is famished."

"I shall make sure they wait for you before-"

"Nothing of the sort," I shake my head, "I might just take a bath myself and go to sleep."

Abigail makes a nervous look, "no- not with the prince around, right?"

I break into a laugh and shake my head, "silly girl, of course not."

She releases a breath she held in after hearing that.

"Perhaps I will be around him."

Abigail does not react because she does not understand.

I promptly make my way upstairs to my chambers. I enter and see scattered clothes on the floor. I click my tongue at the sight of it. I walk in deeper and see the door to my bath was wide open.

I walk in, slowly undressing myself of my outerwear as I find Daemon in the large, circular stone tub, eyes closed. I make my way closer, prompting the man to speak, "took you long enough."

"When did you get here?"

He chuckles, "worry not, it was not too long."

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried that you might have rode Caraxes and left him somewhere to devour our livestock out of spite."

I stand before him at this point. His lips are curled upward mischievously, "I left Caraxes in King's Landing. I think he's coming down with a cold-"

"A cold," I snort.

"- and would feel better if you visited him."

I shake my head, "are you trying to ineffectively guilt trip me into coming home with you?"

"It's not ineffective if it works."

I roll my eyes at him, "you threatened to speak vulgarities to Abigail if she not drawn you a bath in my chambers?"

His lips quirk up higher, "vulgarities? Is that what she said?" He opens his eyes and turns to me, "I only asked her if she wanted to know of how her lady spent her time before she her house, Rubin, was reinstated."

"She is an innocent child, Targaryen scum."

He chuckles, "she is a maiden in marrying age. You would benefit from marrying her off to some rich moron."

"Hmm," I cross my arms, "I actually received an entire box of marriage proposals myself. I am thinking of holding a banquet soon enough to comb through my potential husbands."

He scoffs, "I'm sure they're all so eager to get their grubby fingers into your steady growing wealth," he wades his hand in the water and continues in High Valyrian, "you would be the best thing in their life, while they would be worst thing in yours."

I smack my lips and step closer to Daemon, placing my hands behind my back, "that oddly sounds like you're describing yourself."

Daemon straightens from where he sits, making the water around him ripple, "except I'd rather stick my fingers in your sopping cunt."

The statement does not land on my ears the way he intends. I clench my jaw upon hearing that and reel back. A memory plays in my mind against my will. My hands curl up into a ball as I step away.

"Fuck," he mutters upon realizing, "I- fuck- I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine, Daemon," I mutter, "it happens. It's not your fault."

I turn around and decide to walk off.

I wasn't always like this. There were moments were I absolutely reveled at the idea of being desired, where I basked in the praise and worship Daemon sung against my skin. I could not control it though when I was caught in the opposite end.

I didn't want to be at the opposite end though, which is why I turn back to Daemon, "is the water still warm?"

He looks at me, "just a bit."

I begin to undress myself fully as I walk over to the large circular tub. Daemon watches my every move but once I pull my shirt off, he averts his gaze, "do you want me to go?"

"No," I remove my trousers.

A moment passes before he speaks up again, "can I touch you, my ruby?"

I, too, take a moment before replying, "perhaps."

"Perhaps is not yes," he says, leaning his head back on the stone, closing his eyes, "you have nothing to prove."

I press my lips into a line as I dip my foot into the water.

True, he was selfish and unhinged his man was, but Daemon was also a fierce supporter. He never spoke to me in profound manners, he never pushed me or instructed me to do things he thought was right, but instead when he was by my side, he remind me of my fire.

Sure, he was rugged in his ways, but there was still solace to be found in knowing he'd be willing the burn the whole world down for me. Sometimes, that was was enough. Right now however, I wanted him to be more tender towards me.

The water rises as I sit down across Daemon, who pulls his legs towards him, so not to bump into mine.

I was supposed to tell him this, ask him to hold me in his arms, but his own words cut me off before I could even speak, "is this why you have not agreed to my proposals?"

I look at him and his exposed neck. My usual self would normally think this moment a great opportunity to latch my lips onto his skin, but I do nothing but splash water onto my arms before I respond, "I like to think it's because I want to keep receiving gifts from men who think they can have me."

He barely releases a chuckle.

"They will cease once I marry, and free gifts are is still free gifts."

Daemon peels his eyes open, "if it's material you want, then I will offer you all the riches I have and all the riches I will ever acquire."

"Will you also accompany me in my travels to pay back Lord Corlys?" I ask, lips curving into a small smirk.

"I'll pay him myself," he retorts, eyes finally finding mine.

For a moment, his gaze upon me is light. The fiery look of desire in his longing gaze was welcomed, but there is a looming darkness in my mind. It doesn't take long for me to feel the need to wrap my arms around my bare chest, feeling too exposed in all the wrong ways in his eyes.

"You should wash up and go to bed," Daemon says, releasing a sigh.

I watch him as he gathers himself up, "what will you do then?"

"Me?" he starts, standing, beginning to make his way out of the water, "I will busy myself in watching you sleep."

I chuckle upon hearing that, eyes fixed on the water as the prince makes his way out, "pervert."

He chuckles, "I thought I would be hailed romantic for wanting to keep an eye on my bride."

"I am not your bride."

"And so you keep rejecting me."

Finally, the day has come.

I have now fully paid my debt to Lord Corlys. It unfortunately took two years off my time again, but I try to simply focus on the fact the deed is done and not dwell on how long it took.

Today, I was holding a hunting party in celebration with all the servants of my. The original intent of this celebration was to celebrate my freedom, but it seems the news of the hunting party spread too widely, as many of my suitors just happened to be at the very site I planned to hunt on the same very day!

William and I at present were racing each other back to the camp with two rabbits and a duck. We had no luck to find a bigger prize, and we both knew it was probably because the lords scared them off on their way here.

Abigail hurriedly receives us when we arrive. The very moment I'm off my steed she asks, "may I attend to you, my lady?"

"Actually, Gail, we caught some-"

She cuts her brother off and raises her hands, "my Lady Rubin?"

I give her a look and nod before dismounting my horse. The very moment I am beside her, she firmly grasps my arm and mutters, "my lady, the lords have been pestering me left and right. You mustn't dare leave me again to think of a thousand more excuses as to why you cannot see to them."

I sigh at the idea of entertaining the men and give my handmaiden a look, "why are you so keen on attending to them? They are not invited company in the first place, Abigail."

"My lady! You cannot be so uncourteous. I fear if turn all of them away with no regard, you will never be able to marry!"

"Tis I that is uncourteous in your gaze?" I ask a bit too loud for Abigail's taste, making her whine and hush me as she gripped onto my arm tightly. "And," I add, "are you so truly unsatisfied with the merit I brought back to my dead house, that you so eagerly wish that I marry a Lord?"

"My lady!" she sighs in defeat, "you did not have me go and study to be a handmaiden only for you to ignore the heeds of which I learned!"

"Abigail, I sent you off that you would learn to read and write, and gain confidence in your-"

"And I am confident that if you turn them away I will weep on days end, my lady," she whines. True to her words, her eyes begin to glass, "I cannot allow you to act so rugged so publicly!"

"I did recount to you that I was a pira-"

"No longer!" she cries. I look at her face and her poor expression nibbles away at my heart.

I sigh, looking away, "fine!"

Abigail blinks rapidly, unable to believe what she just heard.

I pull away from her and turn my gaze upon the group of men that were casually conversing with themselves, really as though they happened to stumble across each other by chance.

The moment I am near them, I purse my lips and bow quickly in regard, "gentlemen."

The five bachelors turn to me and return the sentiment. Amongst them was Lord Aiden and and in fairness to him, his chirpy gaze does take away a bit of my annoyance. Still, I give a pulled expression, "what happy luck that we all wind up in the same forest on the same day. Agreed?"

They all nod eagerly, but before they could speak, I beat them to it, "what do you lords think of playing a game?"

Jason Lannister smirks, "well what kind of game do you have in mind, my lady?"

"A hunting game of course," I say slowly, concealing my bored look with a smirk, "my handmaiden would not allow me not to invite you to supper, so I say," I raise a hand, "winner eats next to me at the table."

"Consider me eager to win then, my lady," Aiden Greystoke says.

I turn to Aiden as the other lords mumble words of agreement. I hold his excited gaze as I announce, "an elk then. Bring me back an elk."

Aiden bows his head, "then an elk you shall receive from me."

The lords turn to Aiden, throwing him a dirty look before going off to their horses.

When I move to go mount my own, one of them stupidly inquire, "you will be joining us?"

"Well, of course," I retort, climbing my ride, "how do you expect me to believe you played fair if I do not witness the hunt myself?"

And just as I suspected, there was foul play amongst them the very moment we galloped into the woods. It was in the most discrete of manners, choosing roads that were narrow, running faster than needed, taking sharp turns, but I was privy to it.

At a point, they were so keen on losing each other that I purposefully fell back and let them ride away. I was willing to bet they wouldn't even notice my absence.

And so I was quite surprised, yet not at all, when I slowly lead my horse followed after the lords that Lord Aiden came back for me, relief visible in his features although he was still quite far away.

"My dear ruby," he sighs once his horse stops next to mine. His words makes me think of how different it sounds when Daemon calls me such. "I feared they injured you instead with their pettiness."

I give him side eye as I instruct my horse to continue its way, "do you think calling me pet names will make me alter the premise of my game to your favor?"

He chuckles, gloved hand running through his thick dark hair as his ride walks next to mine, "I wouldn't dare think of making you result to such unfairness," he smiles, "but there's more to be won than an elk that probably already retreated out of the forest having heard the galloping buffoons a mile off."

I chuckle at his words, "and you think you are not a buffoon, Lord Greystoke?"

"Aiden," he says, "The true Lord Greystoke is my grandsire, then my father, then my older brother."

I hum at that as he continues, "I not the heir apparent like the other lords, but I like to think I do have better breeding than then." He breaks into his signature puppy smile, "and no, I think when I am beside a lady such as you, I am quite possibly the biggest buffoon in the realm."

I cannot withhold my chuckle. Aiden is pleased with himself.

"Now I'm curious because of your answer, Aiden," I start, turning to him, "it has been years since we first met and you have regarded me with nothing but honeyed words. Why then have you not married?"

Aiden chuckles, shaking his head, "well, my lady, you have not yet accepted my proposal."

"There are a many other higher standing ladies than I. It's clear to me at least the other lords present are to benefit greatly from my alliance to the Lord of Driftmark as well as the strategic placement of my estate, but you-"

"- would stand to benefit more by marrying a lady with a clearer dowry, rather than that of a lady who is making efforts to rebuild her house," he continues for me, turning to me with a lopsided smile, "have you been speaking with my father?"

"I need not to," I smile back, "I-"

But suddenly, Aiden's hand darts up and he shushes me, looking off to the side. For a moment, I am taken aback, but whatever offence I was about to feel fades when he points to the far off corner where an elk was grazing.

"The gods are on my side it seems," he mutters softly, grabbing the bow he had by the side of his horse. He gently guides his steed to find a better view of the animal, but just as he was about to draw his arrow, someone else shoots at the elk, but misses greatly.

We turn to the direction of the shot and find the four other lords cursing to themselves. Obviously at this point, the elk is spooked and runs off. The lords run after him and yet Aiden hesitates.

I raise my brows at him, "come now, slowpoke."

It doesn't take long for us to wind up back at the same trail as the other lords, only this time, they were all focused on catching the elk, screaming at their horses to ride faster, so not to lose their prize.

For a moment, my ears play tricks on me when I hear a clicking whine from afar. I look to my sides but see nothing but the Lord's neighing horses.

The elk makes a mistake of running out of the cloak of the woods and into the plains. The game was practically over when the lords circled around the beast and pulled out their weapons.

But that was until the unmistakable sound of Caraxes' screech fills the sky. Every beast on the ground was startled, and soon enough, the dragon swooped in and ripped the elk's head off with one strong bite.

Every lord's horse rallies in different directions. I work hard to keep my own from charging into someone else's.

Soon enough, the horses are calm and Caraxes lands near us, licking its mouth.

Prince Daemon's eyes are on me as he shouts from his dragon's back, "I thought you needed my assistance."

"Twas a game, your grace," Jason shouts back, fully annoyed, "the winner sits next to Lady Rubin at supper."

The silver haired prince extends his arms out victoriously, "then I will gladly take my seat next to bright ruby."

"Except you were not part of the game," Aiden retorts.

Daemon eyes dart to him; his pleased expression falters.

Aiden adds, half-heartedly, "my prince."

"And anyway," I finally speak, "it was Caraxes that caught the elk, not you."

Daemon's smirk grows again as he turns to me, "by my command no less."

"Matters not," I call, turning to the begrudged looks on the lords' faces, "I have decided I will not sit at the table at all, so to save everyone from divulging in an argument. My handmaiden would be terribly distressed if I allowed such a thing to ensue."

With that, we all head back to the campsite. Caraxes swoops in with the elk before we even arrive and Abigail is absolutely mortified.

While we were plating the food for the lords, Abigail she mutters to me softly, "my lady, you ought to tell that," her voice softens even more, "dragon rider to keep his mischief to himself."

William grabs the full plates agrees with less regard of whom hears, "yes, he's getting quite annoying and his dragon is a hazard to the livestock."

Abigail shoots William a dirt look before turning back to me, "I cannot even comprehend why you allow him to lurk around you, my lady."

"He's got a big co-"

"Will you poison my food again, wench," Daemon asks, walking up behind me, causing Abigail's face to pale like a ghost and squeak out in response, "your highness!"

Daemon looks down at her and chuckles, pushing away his amused expression to seriously retort, "it means beautiful in High Valyrian."

"Stupid fucking idiot prince," I say in the very language.

He raises a finger at me, "that, however," he smirks, brows knitting, "is treason."

"My lady!" Abigail whines.

I turn to her and shrug, "oh don't listen to him," I grab the remaining plates and ready to walk off, "I only complimented his pretty face."

Daemon watches as William, Abigail, and I walk off to serve the food to the lords on the table. I then beckon the rest of my servants to grab food for themselves.

"If you will not sit next to me as the victor of your game," Daemon says, walking up next to me before sitting on a vacated chair, "then by my royal command you shall."

I make a face at him. The rest of the lords on the table do so as well.

It's clear to me that this is just a game to him, and yet his power trip annoys me thoroughly. Does he think I hesitate to jump him? Does he think care about what these lords will think of me if I do?

Before I could even move, I hear my handmaiden speak but cut herself off. I look over to her, practically feeling her anxiousness.

"That's hardly fair of you to force a lady into your bidding," Aiden notes, tilting his head.

His words make me turn to him and dare I say his annoyed expression towards Daemon was quite arousing.

The prince doesn't even spare him a bit of attention, eyes fixed on me as he spreads his legs on the chair, "it would be most impertinent and treasonous of you to decline," the prince says, eyes averting to my golden haired servant, "wouldn't you agree, Abigail?"

Abigail turns from the prince to me, slowly agreeing "it would, my prince."

I press my lips together, "then I shall humor you, if not for the sanity of my handmaiden."

Daemon is pleased as watches me sit beside him. He leans back then says, "my chambers have missed your voice."

He speaks this so plainly, so uncaring of who hears, and yet the very contents of his words are like a firecracker that make all the lords the table freeze and look.

"What do you wish to gain from telling me this, prince Daemon?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He chuckles at my deviant tone, "I should wish to have your company. My warmth longs for yours-"

"HAVE SOME MORE ELK!" Abigail rips between us, giving Daemon a large piece of meat.

I ignore Abigail however and move closer to the table to look Daemon in the eye, "you are keeping my company now, are you not?"

Abigail eyes me harshly as Daemon leans forward as well, "not in anyway that counts."

"OH I DO HOPE-" Abigail speaks too loudly that she had to cut herself off, "that you two do not speak too much, lest the food get cold!"

"Correct, my Targaryen," I word out carefully, "prince," I press my teeth together, "you should only concern yourself with the food, or else my handmaiden will not find peace."

Abigail throws me a worried look before curtsying and walking away.

Daemon leans back on his chair, "I hunger for other things, my lady, as you are well aware."

And just in that very moment, Caraxes screeches, causing everyone to turn to him in shock. The dragon then spits his fire to one of my horses.

"CARAXES!" both his rider and I shout, standing from our seats.

William in particular pulls at his hair and shouts, "NO, NO, YOU MALICOUS BEAST!"

Daemon storms over to his dragon who was effectively ignoring him, happily finishing the horse, ready to devour another.

"Caraxes," Daemon scolds, making the said beast whine in response, "back up," he commands in High Valyrian.

The dragon does not want to and vocalizes this. His master does not flinch though, "submit to me, dragon."

I figure Caraxes might have smelled our food which was why he was acting out. I then walk off to get some for the creature. Aiden watches as I grab the remaining uncooked parts of the elk, as well as a few rabbits. Promptly he is by my side, helping me carry the meat.

We then make our way to the prince and his dragon. Caraxes looks my way when we near and whines.

"Enough whining, boy," I speak in High Valyrian, throwing the severed elk leg to his mouth. He snaps at his gratefully and I wait a few moments before throwing the rabbits towards him.

Daemon looks past me, eyeing Aiden dirtily as he hands me the rest of the meat, "that's enough from you."

Aiden ignores him as watches me throw the final rabbit to Caraxes mouth.

"You! Boy!" Daemon blurts, "sit back dow and enjoy your dinner."

"I should not leave the lady in front of a restless dragon," Aiden replies, not even looking at the prince when he says this, eyes are glued on me.

Daemon breaks into a deep laugh. He moves back, walking behind me as he goes to Aiden, "the Blood Wyrm will not dare harm her, especially not in front of me,"

I instinctively bring my hands up in front of Caraxes when he begins to do his telltale clicking sound. I turn to Daemon as he pierces a look of daggers at Aiden, "you on the other hand-"

"Stop!" I blurt in High Valyrian for both of the agitated dragons. I give Caraxes one last look before placing myself between Daemon and Aiden. I eye the former, "enough. Take Caraxes and go."

"No," he says, not tearing his eyes from Aiden, "I will not leave my woman here with a-"

"She is not your woman!" Aiden bites back, "if she was, she would be a Targaryen by no-"

"Oh, by all means," Daemon barks, "she's been so tainted that to Caraxes, we are the one in th-"

"Yet you have no honor to court her formally," Aiden seethes, "you spoiled piece of fuck-"

Daemon does not hesitate and lunges, but of course to do this, he had to shove me to the side. The prince can already imagine how he'll scream when he severs the brown haired moron's head off.

Caraxes whines in anger as I topple before him. It is the fire he breathes overhead that stops Daemon and Aiden from continuing their tussle.

"Calm yourself," I cry in High Valyrian, feeling tears prick at the corner of my eyes in fear of what the dragon would do because of his reckless rider.

Daemon shoves Aiden away and raises a hand at his dragon, "calm yourself, Caraxes!"

Caraxes ceases his fire breathing and whines angrily at Daemon. I roll to my back in fear, pushing myself away from the dragon when he dips his head down to me.

Daemon turns to me and moves to help me up. I swat him away, seething in anger, "get your hands off me."

Caraxes growls.

Daemon steps forward, "Caraxes can sense-"

"Oh, now you care about Caraxes," I scream back, standing from the ground, "but you were alright with him burning the fucking whole forest down out of your spite just seconds ago."

"Calm yourself," he speaks to me as if I was his dragon.

"I will NOT calm down for you!" I quip violently over my breath. I shove him back, "I'm tainted, am I?" I growl, eyes burning at his choice of words, "tainted by the fucking men who abuse me? Parade me as if I meat? As if I am their property?!"

He calls out my name but it makes me sick to my stomach. I seethe, "fuck you!" I growl, "get your fucking dragon out of my sight. Or have him burn me, I don't care!"

Daemon watches as I step away from him and scream out, "EVERYONE OF YOU LEAVE! YOU SELFISH PIGS WERE NEVER INVITED IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"My lady!" Abigail cries out in her soft, concerned voice as I storm towards her.

"Tell everyone the hunt is over. We're all leaving."

"But my lady-"

"I did not mean it like that," Daemon speaks in High Valyrian, cutting my handmaiden off as he tails after me.

"It doesn't matter how you meant it!" I growl, grabbing a spoon from the table, throwing it at him, "you think I am lesser than you!"

"That's not-"

"YOU THINK I'M A FUCKING WHORE!" I screech, "but you know what?!" I step towards him, "I'll accept it, cause maybe I am. But will NEVER be yours."

Daemon looks down at me, still at the rage directed at him.

I raise my voice in his mother tongue, making sure every word will sting, "I would rather marry pig than be with someone who kisses me then spits on my bones. At least then I wouldn't feel so degraded when he takes a shit in my house because I expected that."

"What then?" he scoffs in the same language, pointing to Aiden, "you'd rather choose him?"

I fake excitement, "sounds like a fine idea!"

"I fucking waited for you," Daemon growls, stepping so close to me that our bodies were nearly touching, "I waited for you for years, not taking the company of any other-"

"Oh!" I clap my hands, "give the boy a prize for not sticking his dick into the first hole he sees!"

"I waited on your s-"

"I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING! I never forced you to keep me company, but by the gods, I was fucking raped, Daemon!" I heave, chest rising and falling.

Abigail gasps.

"You have no idea how it feels to be called tainted by a man who you thought--" my tears cut me off. I grip my hands tightly into a fist and push them against my face.

Daemon is utterly defeat. His chest is tight. He can barely think, yet he manages to ask, "thought what, my love?" he whispers desperately in his language, eyes urging me to continue.

I groan, ripping at my hair, "you don't even fucking know?" I look at him through tears, feeling something like a poison run though my whole body.

"I won't know if you don't tell me, now won't I?" he whines.

There it is, the harsh flick of his tone that he can't seem to shake off.

"Fuck off," I growl, wiping my tears harshly away. I point accusingly to his mount, "take Caraxes and GO!"

Caraxes reacts to his name and whines, announcing himself. I ignore him though, turning away from his rider, commanding my servants to make haste to leave.

I should have known his pride would have never allowed him to come to me first, and yet, I am still surprised that he lasted a month without my presence. And so, out of my own weighing conscience, I decide to come to him first.

When I send word of my visit to King's Landing however, I am met with a reply that the Prince had left without word and that they knew not when he would return. I then wrote that I would like to know of his return so that I might discuss matters with him, and I was told in turn not to expect word anytime soon for the prince was known to leave months at a time.

The last letter I sent was saying I did not care when I would receive word of the prince's arrival, so long as I received it. My last reply was that they would send word the moment the prince returns.

But this was all a year ago.

It would be a terrible lie to say that I have forgotten about Daemon with all the tasks and the fortune I grew to have within the time, but the truth was, I didn't. More than ever I think I know his features better with how much time I spent recalling them.

In fact now, as the year welcomed it's second season, I was awfully excited to be invited to the palace for the celebration of the birth of Princess Rhaeyra's second child, just in case it was that someone did forget to tell me of the prince's return and I would have a chance to meet with him.

"Congratulations, your majesty," I smile at Rhaenyra who was rocking her newborn babe in her arms.

"Thank you, lady Rubin," she smiles, "he is so sweet and barely fusses," when she says this, she turns from her baby, then instinctively to her guard, ser Harwin.

I watch them look at each other. But I cannot help but turn my gaze upon the princess' first born, who was being held by a handmaiden behind the princess. His hair was affectionatle pushed back by the said handmaiden.

I bite my lower lip to hold in a chuckle of amusement, "I'm jealous of you, your highness."

"Why is that?" she responds as well in High Valyrian.

Lord Laenor comes up next to his wife and coos at the baby in Rhaenyra's arms. I smile, "your babies are beautiful."

Laenor turns to me when I say this, as does Rhaenyra, eyes sparkling at the compliment.

"I thought you'd have children at this point," Rhaenyra says, making me chuckle.

I cross my arms, "honestly, part of me thought so as well."

"And I always thought you'd end up with prince Daemon, yet here he is, expecting a child with my sister," Laenor says, proceeding to coo at his son again.

I knit my brows, "what?"

Rhaenyra turns back to me from her son, face falling upon seeing my expression.

I ask again, "what did you say?"

Laenor turns to me, indifferent, "oh. Have you not heard? My sister is with child. She says she believes it to be a girl, but the maesters-"

"Out of wedlock?" I quip, making ser Harwin shift in his place uncomfortably.

Laenor looks like he saw a ghost, "what?! What nonesense is-"

"You do not know," Rhaenyra states, lips pulling downward, "they married months ago and have since been traveling on dragonback."

I step back involuntarily as my knees give in.

"Are you alright?" Laenor asks.

I feel my corset constrict around me as my pulse quickens. For a moment, I swear I feel the room spin. I step back a few more times and speak words that do not match my actions, "I'm fine."

Rhaenyra looks at me in concern, "ser Harwin, help Lady Rubin to-"

"No," I raise my hand, halting Harwin before he can come any closer, "I suddenly am feeling the effects of not having eaten breakfast."

"Would you like a glass of water, my lady?" Harwin asks.

"Don't trouble yourself," I shake my head and turn to Rhaenyra, not appreciating the look she was giving me, "congratulations again, my princess. I shall be stepping out for some air."

Rhaenyra does nothing but watch me walk away.

I walk and walk and walk aimlessly. I feel like a headless chicken, and yet I am surprised as it seems my legs were actually taking me somewhere. I find that I brought myself to the dragon pit.

I pathetically walk in, mumbling Caraxes under my breath, over and over and over again. I obviously hear no response. Not only was my voice too quiet for the dragon to hear anyway, but in my very bones I knew that he would not be here.

And so in the same pathetic manner, I curl up in my arms and break into a sob. I rub my eyes roughly and whine out words of regret as the wretched smell of the place finally become apparent to me. The scent brings back the memory of the first time I rode on Caraxes. I had felt defeated before we flew up in the air, but when I came back down, I was invincible. I felt that all worries were blown away in the wind, yet now I was imagining him riding off with another woman.

"My dear ruby," a voice speaks up, making me abruptly turn over to where the sound sourced.

My lifted spirit drops back down when I see it was not prince Daemon that called me, but the young prince Aemond with worry laced in his shimmering violet eyes.

I release a shudder, attempting to calm myself. When I was calm enough, I speak, "you know," I sniffle, "it is not right for you to call me that, young prince."

His cheeks begin to turn a shade of scarlet, "but that is what your name means and what your emblem holds... a ruby."

I shake my head, "but am I your dear, Aemond?"

He clenches his jaw and turns his head, willing the burning of his cheeks away, "you are my subject, and my subjects are all dear to me."

This does not fail to make me chuckle.

"And it is impertinent of you to call me by my name," he adds, beginning to draw nearer to me, "but I shall allow it."

I grin softly at the child, "what pure generosity, my liege."

Once he is standing beside me, I chuckle again as I look down on his shiny white hair, "my, how you've grown since I last laid my eyes upon you."

He shuffles in his place smoothening out the sleeves of his coat.

"How old are you? Seven?"

Aemond stills, turning to me with furrowed brows, "I am a year and ten!"

"My," I chuckle, "how mature you are now, my Aemond."

He opened his mouth to say something, but it seems he forgot it as he just stands there with his jaw hanging.

I take this moment to turn away from him and wipe my face with the back of my hands, "what brings you here, my prince?"

"I... I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Me?" I turn back to him, smirking, "I thought to visit Caraxes but-"

"My uncle is not here."

"Yes," I smile softly, "as I learned myself just this morning."

Aemond then asks me a question that makes me still, "do you love him?"

I take a moment to respond and I look around the expanse of the room before I do, "yes."

Aemond ceases his breathing.

"I love Caraxes very much."

He pulls his head back upon hearing that.

I turn to him, leaning down with a mischievous grin, "I was thinking of stealing him all for myself."

The boy looks up at me in astonishment. I break into a laugh, remembering the expression well, "I jest, darling boy, Caraxes is fiercely loyal to his master."

Aemond's expression fades.

I press my lips in a smile, "might you introduce me to your own mount instead?"

The curve of my lips flattens when Aemond's cheeks burn again. He opens his mouth, releasing a stutter before he finally forms out, "I do not have one."

I still, "I apologize," I shake my head, "I did not know-"

"I come here because I like to think I can steal a dragon myself. I shall introduce you the very moment I have one. I promise you, my lady," he says with utmost certainty.

"Aemond," I move closer to him, raising my hands, "may I?"

He gives me a questioning look before realizing I was asking for his permission to touch him. After he nods, I place my hands on both his shoulders and give him a sincere look, "a true man does not go back on word, much less should a prince make promises he does not care to keep and will forget in due time."

"Is that why you're crying?"

"What?"

"Prince Daemon made you an empty promise?"

I pull away from him after he says this.

Aemond is taken aback by the withdrawal and immediately regrets his words, "I am not like him! I will not be a prince who makes empty promises."

"Lady Rubin!"

Both Aemond and I turn to whom called out for me, and soon enough, a brown haired man jogs towards us, a look of relief is on his face, "the servants said they saw you heading here," he catches his breath, "I came running the moment Princess Rhaenyra told me you were visiting."

"Lord Aiden," I smile at him, "it has been a while since we've spoke."

"Yes, and you are as radiant as ever, my lady."

Aemond gives him a dirty look while I chuckle softly, "and your words are as honeyed as ever. I do wonder how your wife feels about that."

"Shall I ask?" he smirks, making my face contort. He then bends down on one knee and raises a hand at me, "will you marry me, lady Rubin?"

My face contorts yet again, but this time I end up laughing.

"What a moron," Aemond scoffs in High Valyrian.

My laughter ceases upon hearing this. I turn to the boy, feeling awfully proud of him, "my, our clever little prince knows to speak High Valyrian now!"

Aemond turns to me, cheeks catching on fire yet again.

Aiden turns from the boy, then to me, huffing, standing once again, "your hand in marriage may be perhaps the most challenging thing to acquire in the whole kingdom."

I turn to the Lord, feeling my witty retort leave me when I see him nibble at his lower lip and run his hand through his hair.

"Still, the Greystokes are known to be vigorous and I intend to show you this, if you so allow me," he extends his hand out to me.

I shock him when I do not hesitate to take it and reply, "alright."

Aiden's eyes widen, as does Aemond's. It takes the lord a moment to reply, "wonderful."

"My prince," a servant walks in after announcing herself over to the seated man.

Daemon, who was playing with his newborn daughter, turns from crib to the woman who walked over, "a letter has arrived for you."

Laena, who had entered the room, coming from a bath, asks upon hearing that, "who is it from?"

Daemon opens the letter, dismissing his servant with a nod. Laena watches as her husband's face contorts upon reading the contents of the letter.

"What is it?" she asks.

"Nothing," he roughly crumples the letter and stands from his chair, "a wedding invitation."

"Oh?" her voice is interested, "whose of?"

He throws the letter to the fire place, pulling an annoyed look, "does it matter? We're not going. You've just given birth."

"Yes, but I would at least like to know who-"

"Some fucking lord I could not care less about," he angrily states, "he's got some nerve inviting me when he knows how my blood boils at the sight of him."

Laena releases a breath. She walks over to him and gives him a calming embrace. It takes a moment for Daemon to melt against her touch.

"Think nothing of it, husband," she hums in their native tongue, "I will melt all your worries away."

He finds no real comfort in the musings of his wife though. It is apparent with how he rides Caraxes later that night.

#daemon targaryen #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon angst #daemon slow burn #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x you #daemon x reader #aemond x reader #wink wink

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harleyquilt · 1 year

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Reconciliation (Touken/Kanetou fanfic) [Part 1/2]

Summary: Instead of fighting Arima Kishou, Kaneki decides to escape with Touka, Hinami, and Yomo. But can he really live on, content with the person he has become after all that has happened? With Touka by his side, as well as their friends, maybe he can live on with some semblance of happiness.

Words: 8,619~

Notes: This fic is dedicated to the wonderfully talented and kind @hakucho-art!!!!!!! It took longer than expected but it's finally here! I'll try to add a second part some time soon! It was fun writing this au ^_^. This fic has scenes of violence and PTSD.

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Kaneki collapsed onto his knees, the strength leaving his body. His skin was cold and clammy, his breathing erratic, and he looked up with wide, quivering eyes.

A sharp point pierces his left eye, seamlessly cutting through his flesh and into his brain. He screams, incoherently crying out with immense pain as he feels the loud grating of metal move against his flesh and bone. His body spasms and his kagune erupts from his back in the form of disjointed appendages. They reach forward, desperately grasping the weapon being pushed into his eye, and with an animalistic cry, he pulls the weapon out, his warm blood spilling out from the wound and down his face. He continues to scream, clawing at his face as it continues to burn with endless agony.

Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stopMakeitstopMake it–

He gasped and his eyes shot open. Rolling over on his bed, Kaneki dry heaves a few times, his body trembling. He grasped his throat first and then his face, realising that the wound was nothing more than a figment of his nightmarish imagination.

Wiping away the drool from his lip, he turns back onto his back and stares blankly at the ceiling. He continues to breathe heavily, his chest quickly rising and falling while he takes a moment to recollect his thoughts. He was not locked in any kind of battle, but in a spare room in Yomo's safe house.

He brushes his hair back from his damp forehead and shuts his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath. His body stills and everything is quiet again. There's nothing to be afraid of. There is no wound.

He never did fight Arima in the end, and yet, the fear he had consumed him when he saw the reaper's imposing figure in that large, underground space continues to cling onto him, piercing through his dreamless sleeps with threats of never ending suffering. Worse than the pain, though, was the reminder that he was, in the end, a coward. A coward for running away, for turning his back, and wanting to live. What had urged him to do such a thing, especially after all the sacrifices of his friends and companions. He wasn't sure, even now. All he knew was that he had eventually collapsed in the underground tunnel and was found by Yomo soon afterwards. Had it been up to Kaneki, he would've insisted that he'd be left to die at the hands of the CCG, to be hunted down by the grim reaper and cut down for his cowardly existence. It would've been right, it would've been perfect.

But Kaneki was not going to complain to the man who saved his life at the risk of his own. He was not so selfish to do such a thing to his saviour. Still, it left him feeling hollow most days, mindlessly questioning the reason as to why he was still alive. He could still taste the blood in his mouth - sickeningly delicious and…human. Yomo wasn't the only reason he had survived that day, Kaneki knew. It pained him all the more, but he could not bring himself to think about what had happened. He was afraid that it would be enough to shatter him entirely.

"Coward." Kaneki muttered, twisting the bedsheets around his clenched fists.

There was a knock on the door and Kaneki flinched, Yomo entering the room. "Oh, you're awake?"

Yomo looked as cool and calm as he always did. It seemed nothing could stirr his stoic exterior. That said, Kaneki knew better than to assume that Yomo was not also hurting from Anteiku's fall. It had been his safe haven, just as it had been to all the others who resided there. It used to be his too. He had hoped that it could've been again, had fate not been so cruel as to snatch it away from his empty palms. If only he could have protected it in the end. If only he had not been-

"I'll be going to check on Kirishima and Fuiguchi. Will you be joining me?" Yomo asks and Kaneki's grip relaxes. He looks up, a small light in his grey eyes.

"Would that be alright?" He asks with some hesitation.

Yomo shrugs. "Sure, I don't see why not. They've both wanted to see you the last few days." Yomo pauses for a moment, wavering in the doorway. "How's your stomach?"

Kaneki looks down, his stomach wrapped with bandages. There's been no bleeding from what he could tell, though it has felt bruised since his battle with Amon. And with how 'starved' he's been, as Yomo puts it, his healing has been slow on the uptake. The wound was not as severe as it had been, at the very least.

"It's fine." Kaneki says, pulling aside the covers. "I would also like to see them."

"I'll make some coffee and then we can leave." Yomo nods, closing the door.

Kaneki nods back, lowering his eyes. Would it honestly be alright for him to see them again? To see her?

. . .

Hinami rushed around the living room, carrying wrinkled clothes with one arm and a duster in her other hand. Her cheeks were warm with a mix of excitement and nervousness, her heart fluttering with the thought of seeing Kaneki again. It has been a little over a week since she and Touka left the destroyed remains of Anteiku; Yomo initially took them to a bunker before moving them to a spare apartment he owned, and during this time, he apparently found Kaneki and had him stay in the bunker instead. Yomo has only visited them once since then and he shared minimal information concerning Kaneki’s condition. All the two of them knew was that he was still alive somehow.

Touka had been the one to ask about the others from Anteiku. At the time, it seemed like Yomo was going to leave without sharing any kind of news, perhaps in fear of upsetting them more than they already were. But in the end, he relented and told them that he was not sure of Irimi or Koma’s condition or location. He had heard rumours that Kaneki had saved the two of them in the midst of battle, though he could not be sure until he asked Kaneki himself. As for Yoshimura, he kept silent, signifying his ultimate defeat at the hands of the CCG. Hearing this, Touka lashed out and punched the wall, leaving behind a large crack, before storming back into her room. Hinami remained still, eyes wide and wet with tears, yet none fell in the end. She was simply speechless, dumbfounded even. It was probably something she should have expected, especially after the cafe was destroyed, but it was still a shock to have it confirmed. Touka has remained mellow since, lamenting her survival, and Hinami struggled with her own feelings of guilt for her continued inability to help the ones she loves.

However, hearing the news that Kaneki was not only well, but would be visiting them soon brought with it a burst of energy that she hasn’t felt in what feels like a long time. Touka has yet to find out, since she has been taking a shower since Yomo’s phone call, but Hinami was almost certain that Touka will also be thrilled with this sudden visit. After all, Kaneki and Touka were better together - she has always thought so in the past and she hoped it will remain true today.

Touka entered the room dressed in a shirt and some shorts and a towel around her neck. Drying her hair, she looked around curiously.

"What's all this?" Touka asked and Hinami beamed with a bright smile.

"Yomo will be coming over with Kaneki." She continued to hurry around the room, fixing anything that was out of place. Touka's eyes widened for a moment and before she could ask anything else, the doorbell rang. "They're here!"

Hinami rushed to the door, quickly hiding away the items in her hands, and Touka stiffened, clenching the towel between her hands. The door opened and she jolted back towards her room in a panic, hearing Hinami cheerfully greet the two guests.

"It's good to see you again, Hinami-chan." Kaneki smiled and patted her head, ruffling her hair. She blushed and her eyes filled with tears. She hugged him, tightly holding onto him, and with some surprise, he hugged her back. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Yomo moved past. "Where's Kirishima?" He asked and Hinami quickly moved back, suddenly embarrassed.

"W-Well…" She moved towards Yomo and looked around the room. "I'm not sure. She was here a moment ago."

"Hold on!" Touka called from her room. Kaneki joined the others in the living room, his eyes wandering across the room.

"I-I tried my best to clean it up before you two arrived." Hinami confessed, fiddling with the rim of her shirt.

"It looks good." Kaneki assured her, and Yomo nodded along in agreement. Hinami nodded back and looked down, her cheeks warm.

"I'll make some coffee!" She then exclaimed and hurried to the kitchen.

"I'll help." Yomo followed behind and Kaneki awkwardly placed himself down onto the couch.

Touka's door opened then and with some hesitation, moved towards the living room, where her eyes locked onto Kaneki's. His hair was still a snowy white, his skin pale, and dark shadows around his grey eyes. His eyes, though, looked back at her with a warmness she hasn't seen for months now. It was a warmness she remembered from their days before his torture. He stood with a slight bow and she noticed that he had grown an inch or two, or perhaps his figure was more impressive than it had been before; his shoulders were broader, his torso slimmer, but defined under his dark shirt. He was both the Kaneki she once knew and a completely new person she has yet to know.

"Hi," Kaneki says with a low voice, a mix of shyness and shame in his almost pained expression. "It's been a while."

"Well," Touka rubbed the back of her neck, looking away. "Not much time has passed since we last saw each other."

Both thought of the day the two reunited on the bridge, where Touka had confronted him for his avoidance. She had lost control of her temper and lashed out against him, leaving him beaten and bruised. When she returned home that day, she was consumed with overwhelming embarrassment, certain that she had only succeeded in pushing him away further. And knowing that he had joined the battle against the CCG's assault on the 20th Ward, she feared that she had pushed him into his grave. She couldn't bear the thought that she had spent their last moments together berating him. After everything she has lost, she should've known better than to act out like some kind of child.

But now, Kaneki has returned - he was standing right in front of her, alive and well. It's almost as if she has been granted a second chance to redeem herself, to say all the things she had failed to confess before. Still, she felt weirdly conflicted. As grateful as she was, it stung to see him after all of this time. He remained a shadow of his former self, and though that was not something she could blame him for, it was not something she wanted to accept. But there was nothing either of them could do to repair the torment he had to suffer through in the past. They could only move on with the present. With that in mind, she ultimately decided that, perhaps, it would help the both of them if she first apologised for her actions.

Just as she was about to squeeze out a small apology, Kaneki spoke first. "I'm sorry." He said with a quiet voice. "I'm really sorry, Touka-chan."

Touka shook her head. "No, I'm–"

Hinami and Yomo walked in then, with Yomo carrying a tray of coffee. The room filled with a familiar fragrance, a bittersweet aroma that reminded them all of days that were now long past. Hinami skipped to Touka's side and clung to her arm, shaking it with excitement. Her joy was infectious and Touka couldn't help but smile in return. Taking the mug Yomo passed to her, she took a sip of the delicious coffee, swallowing down the words she wanted to tell Kaneki.

The four of them sat together for a while, inquiring Yomo for news of what was currently happening across Tokyo now that the battle against Anteiku has died down. The city has always been quick to move on from these intense conflicts, with the media pushing out superficial reassurances that all was now safe and stable. The world of ghouls has never known peace, and this moment, like many others, was just another wave that pushed them further back into the shadowed crevices of society. It was something they have come to expect growing up as societal outcasts, and yet, it was painful being oppressed so violently by those that deemed them as nothing more than monstrous pests.

With this thought, Touka thought of Ayato and the cruel words he had thrown against her. The way he had punished her for foolishly believing, once again, that she could live alongside the humans that despised their existence. She struggled against him, but now, she was weighed down with the thought that he had been right, that perhaps the only way to live freely in this world was to fight against it.

At the time, Kaneki had hurt Ayato for his violent aggression against her. She vaguely remembered her brother's agonised, garbled cries as Kaneki spoke in a quiet, apathetic voice. He had saved her that day, but he had also abandoned her, betraying her just as her brother had done. She glanced up at Kaneki, then, clenching the mug between her hands.

Catching her eye, he held her gaze before she abruptly looked away, her cheeks warm. He had apologised to her first, though she never expected an apology from the guy she had punched. Multiple times. Across the face. She shouldn’t be too surprised, she thought, considering how soft he had always been in the past. Still, so much time has passed since then and after distancing himself from her for almost a year, she wasn't exactly sure what to expect from him. Regardless, she should've been the one to apologise first - that much she was sure of.

"The question is," Yomo's voice breaks through her thoughts. "What's next?"

They were all silent in response to his question, the air heavy with anxious uncertainty. Yomo leaned back into his seat, a slight crease on his brow as he considered his next words.

"I am not sure how safe we are here." He explained. They were currently located in the third ward, though the whole of Tokyo has been in a continuous, suspended state as the heat from battle gradually faded back down to a simmer. Both ghouls and humans alike were waiting tensely on the sidelines, licking their wounds and watching the other in anticipation of their next move. "That said," Yomo crossed his arms, his frown deepening. "I wonder if it would be best to move to the underground–"

"Absolutely not." Touka immediately protested, cutting through his words with an aggressive sharpness. "I thought I made it clear before that I will not allow you to force Hinami through that. We'll figure something out, just…" Her voice trailed off with a wince. "Just anything but the underground ward. It's worse than death down there."

Hinami watched Touka silently, concerned yet curious. She would not argue against Touka, though she wondered if her weakness was hindering the safety of the others. Of course, if she were to ask, they'd all adamantly insist that this wasn't the case, or at the very least, that her fragility was not something they deemed a hindrance. Those hypothetical words, words she has heard many times before, rattled her in her mind and a bitter resentment began to swirl in the pit of her stomach.

It was then that she considered Takatsuki Sen's offer; Hinami had kept the business card that the author had given to her, and after their last conversation, Hinami wondered if confiding in her once again would provide her some kind of answer. In the end, she was the only one that told Hinami what she always knew to be true - that she was weak, and that this weakness was poisoning her loved ones. If she could somehow counter that inadequacy of hers, Touka, Kaneki, and Yomo wouldn't have to endanger themselves for her sake. Just as her parents had done.

"What are the current movements of the CCG?" Kaneki asked and Yomo thought for a moment.

"Even though they ultimately won the battle in the 20th Ward, they need time to recover. Patrols are being covered by lower-ranked officers and there's a greater push for public surveillance. It is nothing out of the ordinary, however."

"Have they released any new or updated profiles on us?" Touka asked.

Yomo shook his head. "I don't think so. Not yet, at least. They're still compiling the reports on the recent battle. It'll still be a few weeks until they return to their usual investigations. In the meantime, I can't say for sure what information they have on us."

"Needless to say, it would be best if we kept our heads low." Kaneki adds, leaning forward. "Relocate, stay out of the public. We can keep our ears to the ground and if we find that it's too risky for us to stick around, we'll consider more…" He glanced at Touka. Her eyes narrowed with clear displeasure. "Extreme alternatives."

Touka tutted and turned her head away, bringing her coffee up to hide her face. She bit her lip and let the conversation fizzle away into a complacent silence. Her eyes drifted to the nearby window, the curtains drawn, but a slither of sunlight slipping through the gap in between the thick drapes. It was midday, the city was no doubt busy with activity and human life. Had this been like any other day, she would be attending school right now, preparing herself for college entrance exams. But now, she and Hinami were once again trapped indoors, confined by a life of endless struggle and despair.

How long would she have to wait this time before going outside again? Would she ever return to school? Probably not, Touka already knew. She wouldn't see Yuriko or try the cooked lunches that left a loving ache in her stomach, or enter the warm embrace of the cafe she called her home, where she'd see the welcoming smiles of her caring peers. All these memories were nothing more than figments of a life that has once again been stolen away from her. How was any of this fair? No, it wasn't fair, but it was a life she has always known. And still, with each new tragedy, she found herself crumbling under the pressure of it all, from the weight of memories that she'll never relive in the living world.

"I'm not feeling too well." Touka announced, placing down her coffee and standing from her seat. "I'm going to my room. Let me know if you need anything else."

Kaneki watched her, his heart twisting at the sound of her evident misery. Her eyes remained downcast, almost lifeless, and he was tempted to reach out towards her. But he didn't and instead, watched her as she walked to her room, shutting the door behind her. He bit his lip, looking down. Hinami shuffled in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the stiff silence between the three of them.

"She'll be fine." Yomo insisted, standing from his own seat. "She's strong. Always has been." He then looked at Kaneki. "I should be going now. We need to secure some food for these two. Will you be joining me?"

Kaneki hesitated for a moment, clasping his hands together. He finally replies with a nod. "I'll help in whatever way I can."

And with that, the two leave after saying their farewells to Hinami. Afterwards, Hianmi takes all the half empty mugs to the kitchen and wonders what she should do next.

. . .

The drive through the city was quiet. Kaneki wasn't sure where exactly they were going, though he guessed that since the raid, Yomo had found a new location to gather 'food'. Truth be told, Kaneki was still not fond of the idea of collecting human corpses for consumption, but he refused to do nothing whilst his friends suffered from his continued incompetence. It reassured him that, at the very least, he wouldn't be the one to eat the human flesh. That was what he kept assuring himself, but his stomach grumbled at the passing thought. Yomo gave him a sideway glance.

"I've heard," Yomo begins, surprising Kaneki. "That you've been consuming meat that isn't human." He pauses, but Kaneki doesn't respond. "Considering the poor state you were in when we met in Kanou's lab, I suppose those rumours weren't baseless."

It wasn't a question, so Kaneki did not answer. His stomach grumbled again, a protest Kaneki wanted to violently suppress. It was almost mocking in its timing. Yomo glanced at him a second time.

"Yoshimura is not here anymore. There's no more 'sugar' to placate your hunger." Yomo warned, his grip tightening around the wheel. "And if you have any intentions of consuming ghoul flesh, I'll be forced to cut ties with you and keep you away from the two girls, understood?" His sudden bluntness gave Kaneki goosebumps along his arm. "It's for their own safety. You are free to do as you wish, but I won't allow that kind of danger into their lives. They've been through enough."

"I know." Kaneki licked his dry lips, his fingers loosely laced together. The tall skyscrapers of Tokyo fell away to a pastoral scenery - a stretch of greenery beyond the road barrier that gave way to rocky climbs and cliffs. The setting sun peeked out from behind the skyline of pine trees, bright sun rays beaming through the cracks between the tall, wooden bodies in the distance. The pressure of the city seemed to slip away the further they drove, despite knowing that the chain that kept them there was rattling loudly behind him, promising them their eventual return to the hellscape they call home.

"I know," Kaneki repeated with a sigh. "I don't want to do anything that will compromise the safety of you, Touka-chan, or Hinami-chan. I'll…manage, somehow."

The words hung in the air for a moment, along with an uncertainty they both detected. "It gets easier over time." Yomo added, his voice low. "You learn to accept it, like with all things in life."

The journey continued in silence after those words. Kaneki wasn't sure how he should've responded, considering everything that has happened. Easier? No, it never gets easier, you just force yourself to tolerate the pain. Even then, the pain continues to bury itself deep inside you, twisting and turning with each and every day as a reminder of the wrongs you have committed. And maybe that was for the best - to be punished with that guilt, day by day.

But that was hardly a solution and it certainly did not ease the pains of those he loved. So in the end, what did it matter, whether it was easy or not? As long as his companions were safe, he could push through the pain of any wounds or injuries. Yes, that was all that mattered, he thought. With a small crack, Kaneki pressed his thumb down onto his knuckle.

There is no reason why we have to be protected by you.

Kaneki's eyes widened and then narrowed, lowering as Touka's voice drifted through his mind.

You want nothing more than self-satisfaction.

With each reminder, Kaneki winced and he leaned his head against the cool glass of the car window. The sun was sinking away and the sky began to darken as the night approached.

Trash like you should stay out of Anteiku!

Kaneki lightly touched his cheek, remembering the strong blow of Touka's fist against his jaw. It would've knocked out any regular human, a punch like that. Fuelled with bitter spite and anguish. He had apologised to Touka earlier, but seeing her leave the way she did, he wondered what more he could do to ease the pain in her heart. He was sure that she had more to worry about than their relationship, but even so, he wanted her to know that she could rely on him. Not because he deemed himself as reliable, but because she saw him as such and trusted him enough to confide in him. Perhaps this, too, was a selfish desire that he was now projecting onto her, it was hard to say. Regardless, he would not abandon her. He refused to abandon her. Not again, not like last time. This was something he had to make up for.

The car slowed to a stop and Yomo announced their arrival. Much like the last collection point, they were parked on the side of a lone highway that was curved around a steep mountainside. Another, empty car was parked in front of them, clearly abandoned. The two left the car and waited for any other cars to pass on. Following Yomo, Kaneki leapt down from the cliff's edge, landing on the soft ground with a heavy thud.

In the past, he had panicked and dramatically tumbled to the ground. It was embarrassing, thinking back to it now. Yomo must've had the same thought, examining Kaneki with an unreadable expression before moving to the nearby corpse of a human. Kaneki bit his cheek and tried to swallow his nerves, following alongside Yomo as he placed down the duffel bag.

Yomo first removed the clothes, placing them into a separate bag. The nude corpse was remarkably pale, the skin almost a transparent white. It looked like paper, the skeleton pressing against it. Despite its gaunt appearance, it still seemed relatively 'fresh'.

"If it helps at all." Yomo said, his voice loud against the quiet of the forest. He lifted the limp arm, gripping its forearm. "See it as no different than a ghoul's corpse." With a strong tug, the arm ripped off, the skin tearing and the thick blood dripping down onto the dry leaves beneath them.

"I suppose." Kaneki murmured. But they weren't a ghoul. It was not as if he relished the sight of a corpse, regardless of whether it was a human or ghoul. Seeing human flesh, however, was a reminder that he was no longer the person he used to be, and a constant sign that he was drifting further away from that person.

In a sense, he has already lost who that person was - what once was can never be again, it was something he was reminded of again and again. Still, it was a barrier he didn't want to cross, even if it was also apparent that he had little control over the matter. Not back then and not now. He was at the whims of fate, being flung from one battle to another until he became one of the many corpses that littered the roads of Tokyo. When that moment inevitably happens, maybe someone else will feed on his corpse, just as he has done with the bodies of others. Strangers left to be consumed, a forgotten bloodstain that would soon be washed away - no different from an unmarked grave.

"Could you remove the other arm?" Yomo asked, interrupting his thoughts. Kaneki swallowed, his mouth dry, and he nodded, reaching forward.

The skin was cold, almost like ice to the touch, and stiff and heavy when held. Mimicking Yomo, he tugged the arm and with one swift movement, the flesh tore away and the tendons snapped. The aroma was…embarrassingly pleasant, like aged wine. He quickly placed the arm into the bag and then removed the upper arm, trying hard not to look at the human's face. His mouth began to water and nausea began to rise up his throat. He swallowed again, trying hard to push down the bile.

Yomo, focusing on the legs, continues to instruct Kaneki on what to do. "Twist the neck and pull, make sure to detach the spine connecting the head to the body."

Kaneki nods and reaches forward, keeping his eyes low as he grabs the head. An image flashes in his mind as his fingers touch the body's ice-cold throat. Yamori's voice rings in his ears, demanding that he make a choice, and the sight of mother and child emerges, their throats being pressed between the large arms of their captor. Their voices are weak, their breaths raspy, and their eyes fill with tears as they look at Kaneki, begging him to spare the life of the other.

His widened eyes then look to the face of the corpse, its dead eyes seemingly staring back, empty and glassy, but all the while accusatory as they silently scrutinise Kaneki. He grips his own throat, the acidic bile rising, and he stumbles back, kicking the ground beneath him as he tries to move away from the body.

With a hard blink, the body then takes the form of Hide, the bottom of his face and throat hollowed with the bite marks of a starving beast. Hide's face limply turns to him, calling for him with his pleading eyes, empty and glassy. He grunts, futilely attempting to speak, the blood spilling excessively from his wounds. Kaneki shakes his head, tasting the blood on his lips. It coats his mouth, dripping down his throat, staining his hands. It's everywhere - a reminder of what he had done, what he had chosen to do.

"No!" Kaneki screams, gripping his head. "No! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"Ken!" Yomo grabbed his shoulders, his voice anchoring Kaneki back down to reality. The body returned to its original appearance, its neck severed. He could no longer hear the other voices. "What's wrong?" Yomo examined him, his steely eyes giving away to concern. "What happened?"

"I was– I–" Kaneki breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He blinked a few times, suddenly dizzy. "I'm sorry." He leaned back, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I–"

"Forget about it." Yomo pulled him up onto his feet, holding him steady by his arm. "Go back to the car. I'll handle the rest."

"B-But…"

"Leave it. Just keep an eye out. I can do the rest."

With his last order, Kaneki nodded weakly and headed back to the car. A sense of defeat washed over him, along with an immense exhaustion that suddenly left his body feeling heavy and sluggish. He had wanted to be useful, but instead…

His stomach growled with a pang of hunger.

. . .

Touka fiddled with her parents' ring, the metal cool against her fingers. Silently, she read the names of her parents again and again. Arata. Hikari. Memories of her childhood trickle into her mind, remembering the warmth of her parents' hands as they walked alongside her. Their faces were…distant, vague, as if a fog was cast over them. She could remember her dad's face more clearly, especially the gentleness it carried, but her mum…she strained to remember specific details. She held the ring tightly in her hand, whispering their names, as if she were evoking her parents to appear before her. But no one would come, she knew. They were gone. Even Ayato was nowhere to be found. How long would they have to be separated before she began to forget his face?

Taking a deep breath, she tucked the ring back into her shirt. Even with her nervousness, she found the strength to get back onto her feet. Nihilism never suited her, even when it was nipping at her heels, taunting her to give in and give up. No, she wouldn't accept that. Not after everything she has been through. She had to look out for Hinami now, and she still had Yomo looking out for her. There was also Kaneki…she wanted to talk to him again. She wouldn't waste her chance next time.

Leaving the room, she noticed Hinami had fallen asleep on the sofa, her stomach sticking out. Touka smirked and pulled down her shirt, grabbing a nearby blanket and draping it over the small girl. Hinami looked comfortably peaceful when asleep, a sight Touka wished she saw more often when she was awake. No matter, Touka thought, brushing back Hinami's ruffled bangs.

There was a small knock at the door and opening it, Touka greeted Yomo, standing aside to let him inside. Shaking his head, he instead offered the duffel bag used to gather meat, along with a few dark containers for her to store the food in. Thanking Yomo, she briefly looked past his shoulder in hope that Kaneki was beside him. Seeing that he wasn't there, she tried her best not to look too disappointed. Despite her efforts, she seemed to have given something away, considering Yomo's next remark.

"I dropped off Kaneki earlier." Yomo explained, Touka nodding with some embarassment. Yomo frowned, seemingly hesitant with his next few words. "He tried to help me with the gathering, but he was deeply disturbed with the body."

Touka was silent for a moment. "Hasn't he always been like that? He freaked out the first time you took him, right?"

"He's changed a lot since then." Touka bit her lip, remembering how eerily calm he had been after seamlessly rescuing her from Ayato. "He was doing well for the first few minutes, but then…" His voice trailed off and he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't have the wisdom or the kindness of Yoshimura and the others."

Touka nods slowly, but with the following silence, she stiffens, a brow raised. "What? You want me to talk to him?" She scoffed.

"You were once close." He retorted.

"Yeah, once." Touka muttered, crossing her arms. "But that was a while ago." She tutted, frowning and shaking her head. "I mean, what would I even say? I'm not exactly the most comforting person to be around."

"Well, it's up to you, I won't force you." He offers the slightest of smiles and turns to walk away, Touka wavering in the doorway. "I'll be back–"

"Wait!" She called, Yomo pausing and looking over his shoulder. "Hinami needs some clothes for the summer - could you take her shopping tomorrow, let her choose whatever she wants? I'll…go to the safe house and check on Kaneki." Her heart flutters and she presses her lips together. Yomo responds only with a nod and a confirmation of the time he'll arrive tomorrow. She quickly turns and then shuts the door behind her, leaning against it and heaving a big sigh. Shutting her eyes, she feels her heartbeat against her chest.

"He's never been this talkative before." She mutters, brushing her bangs back. "I guess it's not so bad…"

. . .

Kaneki laid in his bed, the covers pulled over his head so that he was in complete darkness. He hadn't slept much since yesterday evening, his mind rattled with too many anxious thoughts for him to rest comfortably. Yomo had offered him a coffee this morning - his own way of checking in on him, Kaneki supposed, or maybe he was going to pretend nothing had happened to save them the awkwardness of it all. Either way, Kaneki gently turned down his offer, giving the excuse that his head was hurting and that he just needed to rest some more. Yomo chose not to refute him and left soon afterwards. Kaneki was relieved and spent the rest of the morning in bed. He probably could've confided in Yomo, he thought, but he has always found solitude preferable during these moments.

No, that wasn't true. The truth was that with solitude came a creeping sense of isolation, a fear that he was truly alone with no one around to save him from loneliness he was being subjected to. When he was younger, Hide had reached out and drawn him away from this darkness, pulling him into a comforting lightness he hasn't known since.

Everything was different as a ghoul; the darkness he feared came with it the threat of death. He had been lucky enough to befriend those that would save him when necessary, though he knew that they, too, were skirting the line between life and death for his sake. He couldn't allow it, not if he could help it. And so he was forced to face this darkness alone, bringing with it a new fear that he'll endanger anyone else that tries to reach out to save him.

Knowing this, he cringed and twisted the sheets around him, gritting his teeth. If he truly understood this, why does he repeat the same mistakes? It was a thought that continued to cut through his mind, a voice in his ears whispering the accusatory "coward" with the familiar chittering of a squirming insect. An equation he didn't want to answer. He pressed his palms against his ears, shaking his head. He couldn't change the past, he wanted to say, but it continued to haunt him in the present. Like shackles on his wrists, like a noose around his neck, he couldn't escape. Not unless–

"Kaneki?" There was a knock on the door, along with Touka's familiar voice. He flinched and sat up, all intrusive thoughts ceasing their incessant noise. "Are you in?" She knocked again and he struggled to find the words to respond, as if he were in a dazed state. He hadn't been expecting her. "God dammit, will you just…"

She kicked the door open, causing Kaneki to jump in surprise and a little bit of fear. He couldn't recall if the door had actually been locked, but either way, it was a surprise to see such an aggressive response. Then again, it was a reaction he should've expected from Touka. She stepped in and gave him a judging look.

"It's noon, you know." Touka remarked, crossing her arms. "You look like shit."

Flustered, Kaneki rose from his bed and brushed through his messy hair with his fingers. He was suddenly conscious of how he looked - his wrinkled shirt and shorts, his pale complexion, his tired eyes. He felt almost exposed with Touka’s intrusion, though he would be lying if he said that it was entirely unwelcome. With her presence, his mind settled into a much-needed quietness, pushing aside all the horrible thoughts that kept him in a state of constant restlessness. Even so, he was still taken aback by her sudden visit.

“W-What are you doing here? Is Yomo here?” He asked, clearing his throat. Touka's lips parted, as if she were about to say something, but she sighed and shook her head. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I just…” Touka squinted, her eyes meeting his. "It's fine." She shook her head again. “Anyway, Yomo is with Hinami. I asked him to get some clothes for her.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah.” She fiddled with her fringe, brushing it over her eye. Feeling something akin to defeat, Kaneki pushed the conversation forward.

“Is there something you need?” Kaneki meant nothing offensive with his question, but it was enough to make Touka twist her lips and frown.

“Is there a reason I can’t visit a friend?” She asked, evidently unimpressed.

“N-No.” Kaneki turned his face away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wait, are we friends?”

“Do you want me to kill you?!” She asked with an immediate aggressiveness. Kaneki shook his head quickly, stuttering out an explanation. Touka let out a frustrated sigh and turned back towards the door. “Come on. I’ll make you some coffee.”

Confused, but uneager to incite her fury any further, Kaneki followed behind her to the small kitchen outside of his bedroom. Silently, she boiled some water and crushed the fresh beans that Yomo had stored away. Her movements flowed with a satisfying smoothness that Kaneki enjoyed watching, though with it came a pang of painful nostalgia that crept in the back of his mind. With Touka, however, it was easier to ignore the memories that intruded his mind. A light piercing through the darkness

“Are you familiar with this hideout?” Kaneki asked, continuing to watch Touka while she prepared two cups of coffee.

“Sure.” Touka answered. She poured the hot water over the crushed beans, slowly moving the kettle in a circle, just as they had both been taught. “I stayed here with Hinami for a few days before Yomo found you.”

“I see…” Touka placed a cup in front of him and sat opposite, the aroma of freshly made coffee drifting through the room. “I suppose that it was…probably good that he found me.”

“Probably?” Touka raised a brow. Kaneki pressed his lips together, gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip.

“I’ve caused a lot of trouble.” His voice was quiet, yet unhesitant. Touka winced, cupping her hands around her coffee. “Sometimes, I wonder if it would have been better if I had been left behind to die.”

He wasn’t sure what prompted him to admit these feelings to Touka - it wasn’t as if she had pushed him to confess his doubts. But seeing her here, sitting across from him and watching him with her beautiful, dark eyes, he felt compelled to share these thoughts with her. It was perplexing. Perhaps, after all that has happened, he was aware of how precious their time was together. He had already apologised to her, though there was a part of him that was unsatisfied, that wanted to assure her that his words were truly sincere. Maybe that was why these barriers that always kept her and others at a distance were finally being toppled, even if it was just for a brief moment. That was what he wanted to believe, in any case.

After letting his words hang in the air, sinking into her skin and sending goosebumps down her spine, Touka took a few sips of her coffee and placed the mug aside. “I…” She hesitated and looked away, her shoulders hunched. “I’ve also felt that way before.”

Kaneki was now looking at her directly, not entirely surprised, but still startled by her own confession. Unable to respond, Kaneki frowned and looked down into his coffee, seeing a dark, warped reflection staring back. Touka peered back, noticing his pained expression.

“I have always wanted to protect you.” Kaneki admitted, feeling the almost burning warmth of his coffee mug seeping into his hands. “I wanted to keep you away, in hopes that maybe then, you would be safe. Pursue an education, live a normal life.” He sighed. “Be happy.” He took a drink of the coffee, the delicious taste almost bittersweet against his tongue. “But I wasn’t able to do anything. In the end, I wasn’t able to protect you all. I'm always making things worse–”

“Don’t give me that.” Touka scowled, slamming her fist down against the table and startling him. “I’ve told you before that we don’t need you to protect us. We’ve been living this life longer than you ever have. We don’t need you to ‘save us’.” Kaneki’s eyes met hers once again, the kind warmth he saw before now replaced with a cold glare of contempt. “Can’t you see,” she bowed her head, her fist trembling. “You’re the one that needs to be kept safe. These past few months - all you’ve done is run into danger, again and again, and for what?” Lifting her head again, Kaneki’s eyes widened, watching tears roll down Touka’s flushed cheeks. “I don’t want you to die, shitty-neki. Why can’t you understand that? And you– You abandoned me anyway. You ran off to die, thinking that I'd be okay with it. I can't stand it.” Sniffing, her voice became a murmur. “Forget it, this was a mistake.”

Pushing her chair back, the legs scraping against the ground, she abruptly stood from her seat and rushed towards the door. Before she could leave, however, Kaneki grabbed her wrist, holding her back. Her skin was warm against his cold palm.

“Let go! I shouldn’t have–”

He tugged her back, grabbing her by the shoulders and she looked up to him, her eyes glazed with tears and wide with anxious worry. He gazes back down with calm, grey eyes, his pupils dilated. Looking into her eyes, he was constrained with conflicting thoughts, unsure what it was he should do. He wanted to comfort her, but how could he when he was the one causing her so much grief? Was it right for him to keep her here, to hold her back after her pained confession? Would it be wrong to let her go? What was the right thing to do? He wasn't certain, but what he did know was that he wanted to prove to her somehow that he would not leave her side again, if that was truly what she wanted.

They were both breathing heavily, their hearts loud in their ears. He moves his hands from her shoulders to her cheeks, his thumb brushing away the tears from her eyes. If only it were that easy to ease her pain, he thinks. Her eyes flutter shut, and it almost feels like she could fall apart in his hold - a tenderness she hasn’t known in so long.

“I’m sorry.” Kaneki whispers, kissing her forehead. “I’m sorry.” He then kisses her eyelids, his lips brushing lightly against her skin. “I’m sorry.” He moves his lips down to hers, their breaths intermingling. “I’m–”

Grabbing his shirt, Touka pulls him against her, their lips pressed together. Her mind goes blank for a moment, with nothing but the sound of her racing heart and the feeling of his lips against hers encapsulating her thoughts.There’s a sudden impulse for her to pull back, but Kaneki moves his hands to her waist, keeping her in place as he moves his lips against hers. With a small moan, he parts her lips with his tongue and she responds in kind, opening her lips for him and feeling his tongue move over hers. His hands squeezed her waist, twisting against the fabric of her shirt before pulling her body against his, making Touka gasp in response. His body was firm with toned muscles, his strong arms wrapping around her, as if locking her to his side. And all the while, her mind goes hazy at the sensation of their breathless kisses, her cheeks warm with the sensual intensity of it all.

But then he pulls back with a gasp, as if woken from a dream. He moved his hands back to her shoulders, his grip firm, and he bowed his head, his cheeks smeared with a red blush. With a slight shake of his head, he takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't–" He tried to explain, stammering over his words. He looked up, with an almost pleading look in his eyes. "It wasn't my intention to–"

"It's fine." Touka mumbled, hiding her face with the back of her hand. She refused to look at him directly, her eyes darting between him and their surroundings. "It was…" She squeezed her eyes shut, her voice no more than a squeak. "I need to go."

Before Kaneki could stop her again, she darts through the door. Kaneki, left with nothing but the coffee she made for him moments before, tilts his head back, shutting his eyes and thinking through the moment they had just shared together. Her skin had been so soft, her lips tender against his, her movements shy and hesitant. It was so different from Touka's usual mannerisms, revealing to him a vulnerability he had hardly seen before. And there's a part of him that wanted to see that side of her again, to dig deeper and see what else there was to discover.

A little ashamed and embarrassed by these desires, he sat back down and rested his head against the table. He shouldn't be thinking of Touka this way. Before today, he wasn't even sure if Touka was willing to be friends with him after all they've been through. And within the span of a few minutes, the intimacy between them surpassed anything he could've ever anticipated. Even now, as he tried to think past the kiss they shared, his thoughts kept returning to the feel of her body - petite, but soft, his hands fitting nicely against the smooth curve of her hip. Her chest against him. He groaned, pressing his palms against his thighs. Was he allowed to have these thoughts, to think of Touka this way? He moved his hand to the waistband of his shorts, agonised by this inner conflict. He couldn't deny it, though. He wanted to feel her, to touch her, to hold her, to kiss her, to undress her, to caress her.

He wanted more.

. . .

Touka sat on her bed, hugging her knees. She still felt warm after her visit to see Kaneki. She leaned her head against her knees, grimacing. It hadn't been her intention to dump her feelings on him, much less kiss him. But he had reciprocated, right? Had he wanted to kiss her in the first place? Surely he must've, she thought with some worry. She tried to reason with herself, but each time she thought back to that moment, she wanted to cry out with embarrassment and bury herself deep into the ground.

In the end, had she really conveyed what it was she wanted to tell him? After their fight on the bridge, she had decided that she would apologise and be more mature in her response. Instead, her anger escalated once again and she started crying. Was she ever going to learn from her mistakes? She wanted someone to yell at her, to punish her for her immaturity. The last thing she had anticipated was an intense kiss with her…

She shook her head, agonising over the thought of it all. It would be a lie if she said she hated it - it was just unexpected. What was Kaneki thinking now, she wondered with an anxious uncertainty. It was all so confusing and it was impossible for her to know how to proceed from this point forward. If he had hated it, she continued to ponder, then he'd probably keep his distance. Even if he had, just maybe, possibly, enjoyed it, he would likely keep some kind of distance anyway. If he had enjoyed it, Touka thought while covering her face, would that make the situation any better?

Touka shook her head again, rolling onto her stomach and burying her face into her pillow. This was hardly the time to worry about something so…childish. Still, it weighed against her mind and the memory of the moment continued to intrude into her thoughts, as if it were a punishing reminder of what had happened. It was distracting, the thought of his body as she pressed her hands against his chest, the slight moan that escaped his lips…it was all too distracting!

She just hoped that she could calm herself down by the time Hinami returned from her trip with Yomo. The last thing she needed was others questioning their…confusing relationship, to put it simply.

In any case, that was the last time she was going to visit Kaneki alone, she decided. Touka knew, however, that this was not a promise she could keep.

#touken #kanetou #my writing #fanfic #kaneki x touka #ken kaneki #touka kirishima #hinami fueguchi #renji yomo #angst #au #tokyo ghoul

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rafesproactiveprettygirl · 2 years

Text

TWISTED LOVE || Rafe Cameron x kook female reader ||

summary: toxic love is still love. and toxic love is all you get with rafe cameron, but no matter how far he pushes you, you can’t seem to find the will to leave him.

warnings: abusive relationship (more on the mental/verbal side), physical abuse (father and son), manipulation, cussing, drug use, alcohol use, sexual jokes/themes but no smut

a/n: this probably won’t turn into a series but maybe a part 1/part 2 thing, let me know what you’d like!

“Rafe, calm down.” You spoke softly as you tried to step closer to him to get a good look at his wounds. His hands shot up signaling for you to stop. You nodded and held your position a couple steps away from him. He ran his hands roughly through his hair as he paced around in front of you. “I just don’t understand what the fuck his problem is.” He mumbled with irritation.

“Why can’t he sell the shit himself? Why do I have to do everything for him?” His tone got more aggressive as he paced faster. You folded your hands in your lap, peeling the skin around your nails, keeping your movements slow in order not to scare him. “Maybe he just trusts you more?” You asked cautiously.

“No. He’s just using me Y/N. You don’t understand. Why does no one understand?!” He yelled as he slammed his hands onto the wall in front of him. You jumped back at the sudden loud sound and slowly made your way over to him as he huffed aggressively.

“Rafe?” You called out carefully. “Rafe, baby, please just sit down and let me help okay? I can’t do much about your dad but the least I can do is make sure you aren’t too badly hurt and be I can there for you.” You said placing a gentle hand on his back. He flinched away from you but you kept your hand on his back. After a while he nodded slowly and turned to face you. You reached for his hand, which he accepted and you pulled him into your arms.

His hand’s immediately wrapped around your waist as tight as he physically could and his face went into your neck. You felt him take a deep breath when your hair went to his hair and softly combed through it. “You’re safe with me Rafe, I promise.” You whispered, kissing his forehead. You pulled him back gently and motioned for him to sit on the edge of his bed.

You followed him over as he sat down and played with the rings on his fingers. You pushed his hair out of his face and grimaced when you saw the cut on his eyebrow and bruises covering his jaw, eye and cheek. You opened your mouth to speak. “I need to go get a first aid kit, I’ll be right back.” But before you could turn away his quickly grabbed your wrist. “No no. Don’t leave me here Y/N.” He said, his eyes widening at yours.

“Rafe it’ll only be a minute-“

“No. What if he comes back?”

“He won’t Rafe, I promise you you’re safe now. I’m only going into your bathroom so it won’t be far.” He finally nodded in compliance and let you leave. You slowly wandered into the bathroom, turning your head every couple of seconds to make sure he was still okay. He was staring at the wall ahead of him, mumbling something to himself about his dad.

You quickly found a first aid kit under the sink and grabbed a water bottle before heading back to Rafe. He grabbed your waist and pulled you in between his legs, looking back up at you. You opened the first aid kit and found some paper towels, gently wetting them with the water. “Tell me if this hurts okay?” You ask. He replies with “i’ll be fine” but still flinched when you dab the paper towels across his cuts.

When you finished wiping off the blood you took some disinfectant wipes and dabbed it lightly along his cuts. He grabs your wrist roughly, pulling it away and hissing, “Fuck that hurt.”

“I know, i’m sorry baby.” He let go of your wrist and allowed you to put the bandages on. “Do you want some pain medicine?” You ask zipping the kit back up. He shook his head. “No, I just want to lay down and sleep.” You nodded as he crawled up to the headboard and you kicked off your shoes, cuddling up text to him under the sheets. He laid his head on your chest and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. After a while you quickly fell asleep, feeling relaxed in your lovers arms.

That was until you heard the sound of a floor creaking and a belt being buckled. You opened your eyes and turned your head to see your boyfriend changing his pants and throwing on a different shirt. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your palms and sat up, still a bit sleepy.

“Babe?” You called out. “Baby?” Rafe ignored you and continued slipping on his shoes. You huffed loudly, throwing off the blanket and folding your arms. “Rafe.”

“Go back to sleep Y/N.”

“Where are you going?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Well I want to know.”

“You don’t need to know everything about me Y/N.” He sighed, already becoming more irritated. “Okay well your my boyfriend and I care about you.” You said sternly, he ignored you and reached for his phone, sending a quick text to someone and you knew all too well where he was going.

“You’re going to get more cocaine aren’t you?” You asked disappointingly. “Rafe you need to be using your money in healthy ways, not by buying cocaine.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just mind your own business Y/N. It’s none of your concern what I do or don’t do with my money.”

“It is if it puts you in danger.” You argued getting up from the bed. He saw you getting up and figured you were going to stop him. He turned to face you, a mean look on his face. “Youre not changing my mind. I’m going out and i’ll be back later. Just stay in your own fucking lane and we won’t have a problem here.”

His last sentence shocked you, it hurt of course because you were only trying to help. He opened the door and slammed it behind him. You honestly had enough of his behavior tonight and weren’t going to wait all day for him like a helpless puppy. Once you heard his motorcycle leaving you crept out the backdoor, purposely avoiding his sister, Sarah so you wouldn’t get any questions.

When you got home you plugged your phone into the charger and went to take a shower. After you got out you realized it was pretty late and decided it was best to go to sleep and forget about the earlier events.

2:29 AM

Is what your phone read when you checked to see who was spamming you. It was Rafe, of course.

“Where are you? I thought I told you to stay here until I got back.”

You read the text and rolled your eyes before unlocking your phone and replying.

“I wasn’t going to wait for you to come home drugged out on cocaine, Rafe. I got tired of waiting and went home. Now i’m trying to sleep.”

“You’re being dramatic Y/N. Come back.”

“Rafe it’s literally 2:30 in the morning, i’m not driving back to your house.”

“Then i’m coming to yours.”

You knew you couldn’t stop him so you quickly liked his message and went back to sleep for the time being.

You were awoken by the sound of your window being popped up and turned, half asleep, to see a body crawling into your window. You heard a thud on your floor and rolled back over, closing your eyes as the man shut your window.

“I know your awake Y/N.”

“No shit sherlock, who can sleep when someone is barging into their room through the window?”

“Don’t get smart with me.” He groaned as he climbed into the bed next to you.” You huffed out and “whatever” and tried to go back to sleep, but of course Rafe kept making conversation. “You’re not seriously mad at me are you?”

“I was never mad at you Rafe. I’m disappointed and extremely annoyed. You could tell from his silence that he was confused so you filled him in. “Think about if we were in the opposite situations Rafe. What if you woke up to me leaving you for cocaine? You left your girlfriend who spent all day with you for some lousy drugs.”

“I have a problem. You know that.”

“And your not helping by getting more.”

“You’re not helping either.”

“At least i’m trying Rafe. And this is your battle, not mine, take some fucking responsibility. I’m not the one who reply on drugs and gos bat-shit crazy when I can’t have it.”

“I don’t go bat-shit crazy.” He replied matter-of-factly. “Whatever Rafe. I’m not in the mood to argue, i’m going to bed.”

“Fine. Good night.”

“Night.”

PLEASE RELOG!! ITS BETTER FOR GROWTH THAN LIKES THOUGH COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED AS MOTIVATION!

#ficsandfun #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe angst #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe cameron

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kattythingz · 5 months

Text

YJ x FMA Pt. 6

Where the fuck did this semblance of plot come from

(Don't take that promise too seriously. I'm literally just winging this au for fun to keep Solaris from frying my brain. Feel free to prompt me or give me ideas tho!! I live for shenanigans and episode rewrites.)

🧡 Pt. 1 💛 Pt. 2 🤍 Pt. 3 🩵 Pt. 4 💙 Pt. 5 🧡

Generally, there were better ways to be woken up than choking on his own heart lodged in his throat.

Ling had gone to bed a king the other night. Immediately, upon being led to Ling’s room—their room now, by the League’s blessing—Ed had struck him with a familiar barrage of a thousand and one questions about anything and everything he laid brilliant eyes on, poking fingers across every surface, judging every blank space on the wall lacking Ling’s presence; listening, deeply, when Ling had stopped him out of the blue with arms around his waist and words murmured into his neck.

The following hour had been a blur as Ed was suddenly in borrowed clothes from him and lying across his chest. And Ling hadn’t slept so well in weeks.

But he’d never known terror like the following morning either.

When his arms were empty—the mattress colder than his blood in a single instant.

He might’ve looked mad sprinting into the kitchen as he had. He might’ve looked the greatest fool to walk the Earth, standing there paralyzed by a single glimpse of sunlight. He might’ve—

Needed a minute.

“Well, shit. If it isn’t the actual emperor of Xing this time.”

Ling’s breathing hadn’t quite steadied yet when he padded his way back to the kitchen, catching in his chest all over again at the teasing grin Ed—Ed, Ed, Ed, real, not a dream—shot him from his helm at the stove.

“Took you long enough, your stupendous majesty,” Ed snickered.

Ling crawled on his heart toward Ed’s side. The grin stole its way onto his face as he said, “You realize that isn’t the diss you want it to be, right? Stupendous means—”

“Who cares what it means? Sounds like stupid, so it’s stupid.”

“That’s not how it works at all,” Ling laughed, and couldn’t help draping himself over Ed’s available side, that had been left suspiciously open for him anyway. True enough, Ed shifted at the clinginess but didn’t brush him off. “The word is even grander in Xingese, you know. You’d be giving me quite the compliment if you ever said that to me in that language.”

“Exactly why I said it in this one. Whatever it is.” Ed dumped an omelet from the pan and onto a plate, and Ling snagged it immediately. Ed rolled his eyes but didn’t stop him. “I don’t suppose you’ve wondered what language this is or how we’re speaking it, lazyass that you are?”

“Can’t say I have.” Ling beamed, lifting his arm from Ed’s middle to bend it on his shoulder instead and eat from the angle. “Well?”

The word came out muffled by food, and Ed pulled a face at him. “Well, you’re disgusting. Sit the fuck down or get your face away from me.”

“Why, Edward—!”

A loud clearing of a throat interrupted Ling, and he turned his head to catch Kaldur as the source, M’gann focusing politely on her food next to him as well.

Ah, right. The children.

“I believe I might be able to answer your question, Ed,” Kaldur said, the image of courtesy. “The language we’re all speaking is English. And Ling did, in fact, express a similar question upon his first arrival.”

“Don’t tell him so soon, Kaldur!” Ling whined, but he was pleased as ever to see the juvenility from Kaldur. “That’s not part of the game.”

“It’s a game now?” Ed snorted. “Sit down, dumbass, seriously.”

Ling had half a mind to put aside his food and say no to that. But now that his insides had found relative stability in Ed’s orbit, his stomach was yawning, so he pressed a quick kiss to Ed’s temple while he was distracted before joining his friends at the island.

Ed squawked at the motion, wiping the spot with an insulting disgust—“What the hell, Ling?!”—and Ling laughed.

“Perhaps you’ve gotten rusty, Ed. You should’ve seen that coming.”

Ed grumbled. “Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m thinking.”

Ling had noticed that, yes. That was why he’d softened Ed’s intense expression with a kiss first. Though, by the returning pinch of those features, it seemed the effort had been moot.

Ling sobered in his seat. “What are you thinking?”

Ed’s gaze flicked to him, and then Kaldur and M’gann, who followed Ling’s cue and sat up as well. He bit his lip, torn.

“I’m thinking…” he started, with meaningful weight, “the Truth might have something to do with this.”

Ling immediately tensed. “Why do you say?”

Kaldur and M’gann couldn’t possibly begin to understand the sheer danger of that implication, and Ling was sorry to exclude them like this. But Ed’s fingers had gone taut around his arms, anxious beyond his skin, and Ling couldn’t stand that sight either.

“Ed,” Ling repeated, and Ed thankfully looked up. “Why do you say that?”

Ed blew out a breath. Bracing himself before saying, “The runes of that circle. I told you it took me and Teacher a week to figure out together, and that’s because neither of us recognized half the runes on it. The closest match I found for their origin was old. Really old.” He looked at Ling. “Several centuries’ ago Xing, to be exact.”

Ling frowned. “That’s not possible. Xing doesn’t have—”

“I know,” Ed interrupted with a frustrated noise. “That’s why I took so long too. I thought the scroll was bullshitting me, but it wasn’t. The runes on it were a perfect match for the ones on the circle. And that sort of knowledge was just lying around your palace.”

“So you’re saying…”

“This was an inside job.” Ed grimaced. “Guess a few cockroaches slipped you, after all.”

Something coiled in the base of Ling’s ribcage, and he clenched his jaw hard. Ed’s expression thawed with remorse in the corner of his eye.

“Mei and I tried figuring it out ourselves,” Ed said wearily in lieu of an apology, which was good, because Ling wasn’t taking one. This wasn’t Ed’s fault. This, apparently, was his own. “We narrowed it down to the best list we could, but—”

“Ed.”

Ed’s mouth snapped shut, and he cast a wide-eyed look at Ling. Still so prone to carrying Ling’s weight, even when Ling bore his own weight of a crown.

His smile rose bitterly, but rose nonetheless, for Ed.

“It’s alright,” he said. “That shouldn’t have been you and Mei’s job to begin with, and you couldn’t have tackled it in a short week alone, much less the entire month I was gone. You did your best.”

Ed pushed off the counter, staggering with a burden now. “That’s the thing, though. Our best might not be enough anymore here. Ling, one of those runes translated directly to ‘reality’. Truth in another name. If we’re here at all in any manner thanks to that thing, then who knows what the toll—?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

Ed stopped at the firm assertion. “You don’t know that. I don’t know that yet.” He shook his head, jostling bangs out of place and forcing him to retuck them with an uneasy exhale. “I… I don’t regret chasing you here. Truth knows someone had to get you home, and I’ll be damned if that’s not me. I’m happy to see you again too. But… this is another world, Ling. I don’t know anything here; I don’t even know the symbols on the other circle I came out of. I never got a good look at it thanks to that fucking scientist, and I barely figured out the one back in the palace too—”

“You made it here, didn’t you?” Ling interrupted him, and Ed swallowed a pin. “That means you’ve already figured out half of it.”

“Yeah, but—”

“If I may.” Kaldur’s voice beat Ling to it, and he turned easily to him. Unlike Ed, who whirled like their audience had burned him.

Kaldur bore the shock well, back straight and expression set.

“I may not understand the true depth of your positions, but I do understand that, as of now—and however long is within our power—your position is with us. Among friends, and comrades.” He quirked his lips in that empathic lilt of his, sharing the kindness with not only Ed, but M’gann and Ling as well. “Perhaps that will not get you home easier, but worse odds have failed to stop this team. This will not be different.”

He held them all with such obvious confidence, and Ling had never seen a better leader in the making. He thought Ed saw it too, when his eyes flashed as he considered Kaldur and softened at the barest edges.

Ed let out a breath, shaking his head a little.

“You really shouldn’t talk back to me like that.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Those are some ballsy words to promise.”

Kaldur smiled. “I will take that as a compliment.”

That got another laugh out of Ed, truer that time, and he restored enough hope to finally get to making his own omelet—because of course he’d kept himself for last, and, of course, that was when Ling remembered his own pressing question, finally.

“Speaking of ballsy,” Ling said, eager to lift the atmosphere again. “Ed, how’d the interrogation go yesterday?”

He’d spoken between a mouthful again, and Ed didn’t miss a beat in shooting him an unimpressed look. He understood the words suspiciously well for someone who judged Ling for his eating-and-speaking habits, though.

“The interrogation went fine, you damn glutton,” Ed huffed, certainly for Kaldur and M’gann’s confused sakes, folding the omelet in a blind motion. “Dragged on for way too long and nearly bored me to sleep, but fine. Although, I have some serious questions about whoever’s in charge of designing the clothes around here.”

It took the resident heroes a second to catch on. But when they did, it was M’gann who reacted first, snorting high in her nose. She blushed at the noise, slapping a hand over her mouth in mortification—but Ling had heard it before from Ed. And his heart had only been trained to melt for the sound.

“I am—so sorry,” M’gann said when Ed smiled at her too. “I—I was trying to say that, well, that’s kind of funny, since most heroes design their own costumes…” She looked red-faced down at her lap. “Sorry. Continue.”

“What did I say about apologizing?” Ed said, and shook his head. “Anyway, that explains why they’re letting a guy run around in a bat suit—”

Kaldur choked politely on his juice.

“—as if it’s intimidating. I couldn’t even take him seriously, I swear.”

“No, Batman’s—pretty scary, alright,” M’gann squeaked out, either thinking the same thing as Kaldur or trying not to. Either way, Ling barely masked his laughter at them. “But I guess I can see why you wouldn’t get it. You stood up to him pretty easily yesterday…”

“Oh, that was nothing,” Ed said. He served his own food at last, bringing over his plate to their corner before continuing, “You should meet my alchemy teacher, if you think a guy like that’s scary. Once you’ve pissed off the devil into tossing butcher knives at you blindfolded…” He shivered. “You never look back.”

“I’ll say,” Ling mumbled, failing to contain his own reaction. “How certain are you again that she won’t kill me after walking you down the aisle, Ed?”

Ed actually had to pause to consider that. He opened his mouth, before closing it.

“Probably—seventy-thirty?” he guessed far too calmly for Ling’s liking. “Teacher has manners too. She’d probably wait until after the ceremony to do anything. I dunno your chances then.”

Ling hated that very, very much.

“Great.” He sank into his seat. So his future wasn’t very long, even if they escaped this world safely.

He was already lamenting his stolen youth when a new chi entered the periphery of his senses. It wasn’t anyone worth pretending around like the Justice League, so he kept his posture and listened to the other three laugh at him instead.

“Why do you think I bullied that league or whatever into letting us share your room?” Ed said, still laughing, he was so cruel. “I know your future is short.”

“Did you really?” M’gann said, surprised. “Bully the Justice League, I mean?”

By her asking it that way, it didn’t seem like she thought it was too crazy for Ed to do such a thing. Which was an apt conclusion to draw. Even Kaldur only furrowed his brow in curiosity.

Ed snickered, then. “Oh, yeah. Totally. The red-and-blue guy at least—”

“Superman?” Kaldur offered.

“That’s the stupid name!” Ed snapped his fingers. “Yeah, him.”

Ling shifted at the chi abruptly freezing. Ed continued, none-the-wiser, “He seriously pissed me off in the first place, so I didn’t mind making him a little uncomfortable too. Bastard should’ve thought twice before trying me. Maybe he will now.”

“Bastard?” Ling repeated idly—and he already had a feeling where that conversation had gone. But, still, for audiences out of the loop…

He sat up to lean on his elbow, catching Ed’s eye with the motion. “I don’t suppose there’s a story behind that?”

Ed narrowed his eyes. Suspecting immediately, for sure, but not knowing enough to dismiss him yet. When Ling only smiled back invitingly, he rolled his eyes with a put-upon sigh and tossed Ling the bone. He said, “Not much of a story, so much as an uncomfortable rehash. I thought the guy’s name was familiar, so I asked him if he had any relation to a Superboy too—”

“Oh!” M’gann gasped, sympathy striking her features. “We completely forgot to warn you about that. Superman is—”

“Superboy’s dad, yeah, I got that pretty quickly.” M’gann furrowed her brow when Ed scowled suddenly. “He seemed pretty eager to deny any connection to his own son. I hope Superboy’s had a chance to punch his asshole dad yet. If he hasn’t, he should get one.”

Leave it to Ed to put it so perfectly.

Ling hummed, casting a quick glance to the space past the kitchen and the chi that lingered in it.

Superboy had definitely heard that.

Good.

Ling pulled his face back to a grin, and judging by the look Ed shot him as soon as his gaze returned, they were having words later.

“That sounds awful, dear!” Ling said cheerily, and Ed’s scowl deepened with further suspicion. “I can’t imagine how you responded to that.”

“You know exactly how I responded, asshole!”

“I’m almost certain I don’t, actually.”

Ed’s eyebrows twitched.

“I fucking hate you.”

Kaldur and M’gann shared extremely confused looks when Ling beamed in response.

“Now, that I know!”

<- previous ◆ next ->

#ask me how ed bullied superman. PLEASE #fullmetal alchemist #fma #young justice #edling #edward elric #ling yao #m'gann m'orzz #kaldur'ahm #yj x fma #crossover #fanfiction #my fic

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cutthroatcarnival · 8 months

Text

Revered Deity, Unknown Hero (4/10)

Warning for canon-typical violence, blood and injury

Read chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Find it on AO3 here!

In Real Time

“Warriors, Hyrule, patrol the area for any danger.” With that final command, the Chain split off to complete the tasks Time had assigned them.

Hyrule made his way over to where the captain stood and the two of them set out, walking deeper into the forest surrounding their camping spot. Night had yet to fall, but the trees were still dark as the sun brushed the horizon, golden light filtering through the west most trees.

The forest was quiet, eerily so, setting Hyrule on edge as he walked just ahead of the captain. Glancing back, Warriors’ eyes were focused ahead, but his ears were shifting constantly- the silence set him on edge too. Their footsteps were too loud.

“Wars-“ Hyrule quickly cut himself off, head whipping to face the treeline to his left. His ears pricked up as his eyes scanned… There! Not moving his gaze, caught in a staring contest with sets of reptilian eyes, he managed to grasp the captain’s attention, who inhaled sharply at the sight.

One let out a loud cry, and the enemies took the moment to break out of their cover, letting out growls as they jumped and circled around the heroes.

Blocking the first blow, Hyrule managed to roll under the first Lizalfo and hit it with four quick slashes, moving onto the next target as it turned into a puff of purple smoke.

The second one wanted to play some sort of game, as it continuously hopped away from the two heroes, and Hyrule gave chase, delivering a swift stab before the reptile bounded away again. Biting back a groan of annoyance, he raced after it again, ears flattening to his skull to block out the grating call of it. He delivered two more stabs and rolled to the side as the Lizalfo swung, and finished it off with a swipe to the side.

Footsteps came rushing up to him as he got back up to his feet. Warriors steadied him with a hand.

“Any injuries?” The captain shook his head.

“Nothing. And you?”

“Nothing,” Hyrule repeated, “just annoyed.”

Warriors huffed a laugh and pulled out a stained handkerchief, wiping the blood off the blade. When finished, he proceeded to twirl his sword before sheathing it smoothly.

Hyrule snorted and Warriors raised an eyebrow, a playful smile creeping onto his face.

“What’s that for? You don’t like my tricks?” The captain teased, Hyrule snickered and shoved the older playfully. A hand ruffled his hair in retaliation, and he squeaked in turn.

“Let’s finish our patrol. There’s only about half left to cover, give or take.”

The two continued on, the light of the sunset had faded more, blanketing the forest in darkness. It seemed Warriors still had his fire rod on him, as the steady hum and new light announced its activation. Hyrule dug around in his pouches for his own light source, letting out a triumphant ‘aha!’ as his fingers found the candle. Removing it from his pouch allowed the flame to flicker to life, adding some extra light.

While he didn’t necessarily need the extra light- his night vision was the second best in the group- it was an instinct to bring the candle out when it was dark. Which he was glad for when he saw the concerning amount of blood that had darkened Warriors’ upper back area of his tunic.

“You said you weren’t injured!” Warriors whipped around to face him, his look of pure confusion illuminated by the fire rod.

“I’m not?” It sounded more like a question, as his face scrunched up in confusion further. Hyrule stomped over to him and grabbed his non-occupied hand, guiding it to feel the wetness on the back of his shoulder.

Warriors let out a small ‘huh’ as Hyrule ushered him to sit, setting the candle down as the other put his fire rod back. He tugged at the tunic, signaling Warriors to shed his upper layers.

Once the skin was visible, Hyrule froze, hands lit up in teal with wisps of pink. The wound itself wasn’t the issue, no, it was on the small side- and not deep- but that wasn’t what had him up in arms; it was the flesh knitting itself together before his eyes.

At least the blood had stopped, it had been quite some time since their skirmish had finished- and they were reaching their starting point of the patrol- he would’ve been more concerned if it hadn’t. But why didn’t Warriors say anything? Maybe he didn’t feel it, with all the adrenaline from the fight, but it would’ve had to have started bothering him as they walked.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he pushed healing magic at the wound, watching the skin finish weaving together, leaving no trace behind.

“See? If your magic healed it that quickly with no issue, then it wasn’t that big a deal.”

Hyrule nearly shook him. How did…?

“Wars- I…”

The captain tsked as he pulled his chainmail and tunics back on. He probably thought Hyrule was going to deny being of any help.

“Thanks, ‘Rule. Let’s head back to camp, yeah?”

Warriors pushed himself off the ground and offered a hand to Hyrule, who took it even while in his slight daze. The fire rod was back and illuminating the forest around them. Hyrule scooped up his candle and followed Warriors back to the camp.

He was no medical professional, but he was pretty sure that flesh wasn’t supposed to do that.

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nightcovefox · 7 months

Text

Nightmares…

Character(s): Llewellyn (Lu) and Rosa

Plot: Lu wakes up from a nightmare unfortunately his big brother isn’t here to help him, but a certain Bookworm is.

Warnings: Warnings a bit of gore? (Explaining it), a bit of death (From Lu’s Dream), but there will be comfort/Fluff (From Rosa), also some mentions of Despair AU? (From Pastelprince, you know if Cursa took over half of the galaxy the heroes lost?) (I wonder if that's the correct AU name?)

A/n: I’m having a nightmare myself, guess who’s not sleeping tonight? But writing helps.. A bit. Ehh anyways, Enjoy Reading~!<3

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Lu shot up awake. He look around and see he was in his room. He was safe.. Safe.. Safe.. Right?!

That dream.. No.. Nightmare felt so real.. He was trapped!! His brother became one of them. Along with his friends! He was alone and about it- No. It's best not to talk about it.

Lu was shaking, looked over to his side, and saw his brother was not there. Where is he?! Wait!! Did they take him too?! Oh.. No.. Oh no… OH NO!!!!?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile on the other side of the room. Here lays Rosa reading her books in her room. She’s supposed to sleep at this hour.. But she wasn't feeling it.. Huh.. Surprisingly..-?

“Hmmm..” Rosa hummed, flipping the pages from her book. She heard a loud thud next to her room. What?! Ehh.. Probably means Lu playing around- It's midnight no way he can be awake-

*THUD*

Rosa sighed and closed her book. Slowly getting out of bed and walking out of her room, bringing her book with her. She knock on Lu’s door softly. “Lu? It's me Rosa.. Are you okay?”

..Nothing from the other side.

She puts her star bunny ears on the door to hear clearly. She can hear whimpers from the other side. Lu..

She opened the door and she was correct. Lu wrapped around in a burrito blanket, trying to calm down quietly. “Lu?” She mumbled placing her book down. Lu sniffed as he saw his best friend. “Rosie!!” he cried, getting up and hugging her tightly. Rosa was cut off guard but wrapped her arms around him. “Okay? Of course, I would..-”

“Rosie.. You are okay... You’re safe.. Okay.. Safe.. Not like them..” Lu mumbled, hugging his friend tighter. ‘What..?’ she thinks in her head. Very confused about what he was saying but realized he had a nightmare..

“Lu..? Did you have a nightmare..?” she asked softly. Lu slowly nods his head. “Do you want to talk about it..?”

“A bit..” he mumbled, shaking in fear. “I’m here to listen..” said Rosa patting behind his back.

“Well.. We were fighting Cursa.. And.. She struck her tentacle to Mari..! He was cursed.. Along with the others.. I-I was running away with Jeanie, Edge, You, and Mario.. Until you w-were attacked.. And I-I didn't s-save you- I watched it all happen.. Blood s-splattered everywhere.. M-Mari.. And t-the others w-were l-like them-!! I-I.. My o-own brother killed m-me.. I-I-” Lu explained, tears escaping from his eye. “Shhh.. Sh..” whispered Rosa hugging her friend tightly. “It was a nightmare.. We're all okay.. You are okay.. Curse is gone.” said Rosa trying to calm down her friend.

Lu sniffled, trying to calm himself down. But more tears came down and he was.. Just so scared. It felt real.

Rosa quietly hummed, removing her arms around him. One hand holding his hand while the other wiping away his tears. For a short minute her little tune calmed Lu down a bit. Only sniffles can be heard from him.

“Would you like me to read a story for you?” Rosa suggested.

Lu nods his head.

“Alright..”

Rosa used her magic to gently lift Lu up and set him down on his bed, climbing up and sitting down with him. “Y-You won’t leave me here.. Right..?” Lu whimpered. “No, I will be here. Not leaving your side,” said Rosa, opening her book.

“Beauty And The Beast Chapter 1. Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince lived in a shining castle…”

…

Lu was fast asleep, sleeping on Rosa’s shoulder. Rosa stopped her reading, looked over at her shoulder, and smiled seeing Lu fall asleep. It was worth it reading two chapters. Until they read Chapter 3 together tomorrow. She put a bookmark on the page and closed the book. Set the book on the side and lay her head on Lu’s blanket head. She sighed, falling asleep.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I kinda want to right the Despair AU, but I need to check the lore to get it right. And Nightmares can be a pain.

#m+rsoh #rabbid luigi #rabbid rosalina #I headcanon Rosa to have powers like Rosalina #BATB reference?#m+rsoh fanfic

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skywarpie · 2 years

Text

New Blood

Ch. 2

AO3 link , ch 1

Rating: mature for eventual violence and language

Medieval/Renaissance AU because I can. Fight me.

Morning comes far quicker than he would have liked it to. If it were up to him the sun would never rise on this day. Then he couldn’t let everyone down by being a failure or by — stop it. He shakes his head as he sits up in bed. Thinking like that is only going to make things worse. Copia knows he should take his own advice, but that’s easier said than done.

Copia rubs at his eyes. His hip makes an uncomfortably loud pop when he shifts slightly. He hisses, rubbing at the offending appendage. Lovely. Another thing to add to this horrible day.

It takes a great deal of effort, but he finally drags himself from the warmth of his heavily quilted bed. As soon as his feet plant themselves on the stone floor, a sharp pain runs up both legs. He’s never been overly fond of the cold. It tends to make his condition worse. Wintery stone floors only add to this.

He fumbles for a moment as he grabs his cane from against the nightstand and uses it to pull himself up so that he’s finally standing. His free hand raises in the air as he stretches. It’s meant to be a relaxing gesture but it has the opposite effect. A shape pain shoots down his spine, causing him to inhale sharply and nearly double over. Please, not today. Please.

It takes a while, but eventually his morning routine is complete and he’s dressed in his red cassock and settled on the small bench in front of the vanity. He runs a comb through his hair to pull it back the way he likes. He settles for running two fingers across his pencil thin mustache. It’s an effort to smooth down any wayward hairs, but in truth the hair isn’t even thick enough to have that problem.

Lastly, he leans forward to apply the black paint around his eyes. It makes his white eye pop, something he thinks looks rather good on him. He’ll never have papal paint, so this is his settling for the closest possible. Once he’s finished he wipes away any lines that seem out of place, not wanting it to smear. Good enough. It’s not, not really. Nothing will ever be good enough for his father, but Copia can still hold out hope each morning that maybe, just maybe, his attitude may change for the better. But it never does.

Copia sighs as he fastens his pellegrina across his shoulders. He stalls for a moment as he considers picking his biretta up but decides better of it. He settles for the red saturno hat that matches his cassock, one of his old rosaries with the grucifix on it decorating the top. He doesn’t plan on going to breakfast. It’s bad enough he’ll have to face everyone later today. Why should he have to put himself through that twice. No, instead he decides he’ll take a nice long walk in the gardens to get some fresh air. His chosen hat will protect his face better from the sun far better than his biretta.

He gives himself a once over once more in one of the floor length mirrors that decorates his simple rooms. Good enough. The same hip as earlier lets its agitation be known as it sends another sharp pain through him. Maybe a short walk then. That’ll work better.

—----

Copia likes taking walks alone through the gardens early in the morning. It helps relax him. He doesn’t know what any of them are. Primo was the one responsible for planting and tending to them. Since he’s left they’ve gone down hill. Copia tried once or twice to save a few but all he succeeded in was killing them. He hasn’t tried gardening since. Occasionally a ghoul or two is seen out and about doing Satan knows what out here. He likes to think that they’re reviving the once lush greenery, but he knows they aren’t. They’re more than likely just making it look presentable so Nihil doesn’t lose his head when he has an important visitor. Copia scoffs at that. The only important person in Nihil’s life is Nihil.

Someone clears their throat behind him.

Copia nearly screams as he’s startled from his thoughts. He’s still clutching his chest with one hand and gripping his cane with the other when he turns around. He immediately calms. “Aether.” It’s followed by a look of annoyance. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

The ghoul lets out a deep chuckle as he has the audacity to look sorry. His tail moving to lightly wrap around one of Copia’s ankles. “I thought you heard me.”

The man sighs, feeling like his chest is still constricting him. “I did not.”

“Tough morning?”

Copia opens his mouth but thinks better of it, shutting it and chewing the inside of his cheek for a second.

“Ahhh,” Aether’s smooth voice cuts through the air. “Nerves, then?” A brow he raises as if saying tell me I’m wrong?

He wants to argue that no, actually he’s just extremely sleepy. He got no sleep last night and — and that would only prove the ghoul’s point. Instead he sighs and shrinks in on himself. “I don’t think I can do it.”

Aether’s face contorts into confusion. “Why wouldn’t you be able to? You’re the best at all of your other studies so far.”

“Yes but —” but what? I can’t let my family down anymore than my health has already done so? I need Nihil to be proud of me? That last one makes him feel nauseous and Copia files it away in his brain for things to sort through later. “What if I mess up?”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You’ll do fine.” It’s said so matter of factly that Copia can’t even bring himself to be irritated. Aether always believes in him, why, Copia doesn’t know. He’s been a disappointment to pretty much everyone in his life up until this point. Maybe it says something about his character if a ghoul is saying this? It can’t be anything good.

“You okay?” The ghoul’s voice is soft as he cranes his neck to get a better look at the man’s face.

“Si, sono buono.” He’s really not, but Aether doesn’t need to know that.

“Come on, several of the sisters just made some fresh tarts.” He looks down at Copia. “I know how you love those. Plus, judging by your appearance you haven’t eaten this morning. We should fix that.”

Copia sighs. “Fine. I do like a good tart.”

—-

“Saltarian, it’s so good to see you.” Imperator smiles as the man places a chaste kiss atop her hand.

“I would have to think a ritual as important as this one would take place without me.” He chuckles as he brings his arm to fold behind himself. “Especially with it being your boy.” The emphasis isn’t lost on Nihil who stands just to the side.

“Well, I would hate to keep the both of you.” She smiles at Saltarian and shoots a look at Nihil over her shoulder. “If you need me, I will be finishing the preparations for tonight.” She offers a small curtsy to Saltarian as she exits.

Imperator can already hear Nihil’s sorry excuse for conversation. Thankfully it’s shut out as she rounds the corner and makes her way to the great hall they use for celebrations. And this is a celebration. Whether her husband wants to acknowledge that or not.

Several ghouls cease their scurrying about as they spot her, stopping to bow. “Lady Imperator, it’s nice to see you.” They’re dismissed with a wave of her hand. They waste no time in rushing away.

She scrunches her nose as she examines the decorative room. It’s nice, really. The ghouls did an okay job…but it doesn’t seem fitting enough. It should be more grand. Copia is her only child to actually make it to adulthood, infancy too if you really want to go into details. She has no other children and she’ll never have anymore. This isn’t just a celebration of his newfound title, but also one to essentially say fuck you, I made it, to a world that had fought tooth and nail to try to take him from her.

“You.” She points at a ghoul.

“Y-yes ma'am?”

“This is all the seating?” Her voice holds an edge. The table is massive, enough to set nearly fifty people and yet there are only a handful of seating arrangements.

“Uh – yes.”

She grits her teeth. “I recall sending out an invite to many more than these.”

Now the ghoul looks absolutely horrified. Their eyes dart around nervously to look anywhere but at her. “It’s – it’s all the arrangements we were given from Nihil.”

“Nihil!?” The ghoul cowers as she explodes. “Last I checked I was the one in charge of this event, not my husband.” She hisses like the word burns her to say it.

“I-I’m s-sorry. We – we –”

“Get out of my sight.” The ghoul remains planted where they are until she yells. “Now!” They squeak and hurry off as far away as possible from her.

Imperator rubs her temples. This is not going how it was supposed to. There’s hardly any guests. It was supposed to be an elaborate party but instead her husband seems to have turned it into a small family gathering, plus Saltarian.

She stills herself with a deep breath. Fine. Whatever. She can still work with this, as long as all of the food is prepared and ready when the time comes, then she can make it seem like this was the original plan.

—---

“What!?” Copia practically chokes on his mouthful of tart, shooting a glare at Aether. “You knew these were for tonight!?”

“Theoretically I want to say yes, but no one ever confirmed it.” Aether shrugs and Copia looks from him to the kitchen ghoul who informs them of their mistake in horror.

He tosses the remaining few bites back onto the plate and stares at them with wide eyes. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why else would they have made them?

“She’s going to kill me. Do you understand that, theoretically?” He shouldn’t be as upset with Aether as he is. Copia knows he’s overreacting, but he can’t help but feel that this is another notch on his today is fucked belt.

Finally having had enough, the kitchen ghoul rolls her eyes and snatches the plate that has the remaining pastries on it. They waste no time in making their exit.

Copia feels like throwing up. He wants to yell and scream at Aether more but he’s interrupted by another ghoul.

“Your mother is in the dining hall looking for you.” They disappear once more around the corner.

Copia looks to Aether horrified. “I should probably finish my chores.” He places a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Good luck.” And quickly makes his own leave. Copia is left there fuming silently.

Whatever, he’ll just deal with that later. He sighs and grabs his hat from the counter as he slowly makes his way into the dining hall which suddenly feels like his tomb.

“Ah, there you are!” Imperator meets him halfway in the large room. “There has been a slight change in plans, it would seem.”

Copia simply nods, waiting for whatever this new bomb that’s about to be dropped on him will create.

“It seems that we have less than half of the originally expected guests.”

That’s it? That’s all she’s upset about? Copia feels like laughing hysterically. “That’s okay.” Honestly it’s a relief. Copia isn’t the best when it comes to large crowds of people. They make him uncomfortable, especially when their focus is on him.

“Are you sure?” Her brow is furrowed as she looks up at him.

“Si. It’s okay.”

Imperator smiles sadly. “Okay.” There’s a split second of silence between them before she starts in again. “Is that crumbs in your hair?”

His eyes widen as he shakes his head frantically. She grabs his face to pull him closer for inspection when a ghoul chimes in.

“Ma’m, it appears the tarts that were made are no longer available.”

Copia makes to bolt but Imperator’s tight grasp on his chin stops him. His wild frantic eyes meet her’s as she smiles mockingly, never once looking away from him. “I suppose we won’t be having tarts either.”

#the band ghost #skywarpie writes #i did a thing #okay to reblog i guess #ghost bc #ghost band #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #sister imperator #papa nihil #mr saltarian #nameless ghouls

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intertwinedtears · 3 years

Note

Hello! I’ve been stalking your page for the past few days and wanted to formally request an enemies to lover wildcard prompt (where after a fight both the character and reader are horny 😎 battlesexuals) for the characters: tartaglia, kazuha, itto, scaramouche, zhongli, diluc, kaeya, & xiao please and thank you! 💜💜💜

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

[enemies to lovers trope]

most to least likely to be horny after a battle ft. tartaglia, kazuha, itto, scaramouche, zhongli, diluc, kaeya, xiao

warnings: afab!reader, mentions of blood, mentions of killing yaknow typical enemies stuff, dub-con, rough sex all around, unprotected sex, degradation kink for scara, dacryphilia for scara&kaeya, oral (m!receiving) for kaeya, strangling for diluc, monsterfucking for zhongli u can thank me later, some fluff here and there,

a/n: bestie u really went all out with the list of characters huh, u trying to make a suffer here? /j

1. tartaglia 2. scaramouche 3. itto 4. kaeya 5. diluc 6. zhongli 7. kazuha 8. xiao

you’re only one of the many enemies childe has but you can’t help but feel like you’re special to him. having sex with debris and various dangerous surfaces surrounding you probably isn’t the best idea but it’s become a weekly tradition at this point for you and the eleventh harbinger. the loud slapping of skin on skin fills the air along with the smell of sex and sweat. you taste blood on your tongue as your mouth meets his in a clashing of teeth, feeling his anger pouring from him as he holds onto your hips with a bruising grip, driving his cockhead deep inside, burying it in your cervix with each hard thrust.

scaramouche isn’t the most confrontational of opponents, preferring to stay a safe distance away as he delivers harsh blows with his powers. but the same cannot be said post-battle as the harbinger gets down and dirty with you. his delicate fingers trace the outline of your folds as his voice lowers, breath hot on your ear as he disguises his scathing remarks as sensual teases. your tears stream down your cheeks as you beg for him to satiate the desire coiling in your belly, abandoning your dignity. his answering grin only serves to fuel you on as he obliges, but not without reminding you of your place first.

when you think you might’ve gotten the upper hand against this bumbling idiot, he always manages to prove you wrong. itto has you pinned down on the grass as he pounds away, using your body like you’re nothing but a cum dumpster for him. your mouth hangs open, too fucked out to even cry for him to slow down as he pumps yet another load into your overflowing cunt. as he slips out of your sopping heat, itto manages a laugh as he eyes the dazed look on your face. “you should’ve known better than to do that baby.”

the cavalry captain shows no mercy to those that threaten the peace of his home. kaeya makes sure to shut you up by stuffing his cock into your mouth, fingers tangling in your hair as he groans at the feeling of your tongue swirling around the tip. “don’t you think you’re enjoying this too much for a criminal receiving their punishment?” he muses, wiping off your tears with his thumb. you moan around his length in response, gagging as kaeya suddenly thrusts forward, his heavy balls smacking your chin. “looks like i’ve been too gentle,” he says to himself, bringing his tear-stained thumb to his lips, deliberately licking it for you to see.

diluc isn’t sure how he’s ended up like this. a while ago he was trying to kill you and now that he has you, under him and his hands around your neck, his cock throbs his pants. clearly, his body didn’t get the message that you’re an enemy. “what’s wrong? too much of a coward to finish the job?” you taunt as a trail of blood drips from your mouth. diluc doesn’t reply but the grip he has on your neck loosens and you’re left to wonder if he has other plans. “don’t.” the warning slips from your mouth as diluc begins to move off of you. “finish what you came here to do.” you close your eyes, expecting your swift end but instead you’re struck to the core as you feel his soft lips on yours.

it’s not wise to mess with a god but you’ve never been one to shy away from danger anyways. that is until you feel regret bubbling in your chest as zhongli transforms into the true form of the geo archon. “are you scared?” his voice rumbles deep as you stare at his giant dragon form towering over you as a pair of amber eyes fixates on you. “a-as if!” your voice trembles as you speak but you remain standing even as he winds his long tail around your body. he sniffs once, twice, and a third time before growling lowly, the sound ripping through the air and sending birds up into the sky. there’s nary a sound as he slithers closer, snout pressed against your belly as his forked tongue peeks out to press over your clothes. “you’re aroused,” the dragon, zhongli, states simply. your cheeks flame with embarrassment as zhongli chuckles lowly, “do you prefer me in this form? though i cannot guarantee that it will… fit.” hell, you’d make it fit.

despite all that he’s been through, kazuha is merciful. he helps you up even after you’ve tried to drive your sword through him multiple times. though this time, it is likely the last you’ll ever see of him. “don’t come back,” you hiss as he sets you down on a flat rock. “i’ll kill you the next time i see your face again!” but will you? he knows you’ve held back in the countless fights you’ve had with him. “or you can come find me,” he quietly adds on, ignoring the offended glare you send his way. “i would never do such a thing,” you retort, but still accept the bandages he hands to you. yet before he leaves for good, you find yourself reaching out to him, hands gripped tight around the fabric of his shirt. it’s almost natural how he falls with you, hands quickly shrugging off his clothes as his lips finds yours in a heated kiss full of desperation. you don’t even complain as he slides into you without warning, hips moving back and forth as he rocks into your tight heat, feeling your walls clenching down on him. that night, he leaves inazuma but not without you at his side.

you’re no stranger to the black flames that follow xiao wherever he goes. but this time, maybe you’ve gone a little too far with your little game as xiao finally snaps. the black tendrils lick as his ankles as he approaches you with slow deliberate steps, golden eyes glinting like a predator fixated on its prey. you stand rooted to the ground as every single cell in your body screams for you to run. but as you squeeze your eyes shut praying that someone would come save you, you feel the weight of his body collapse on you as he pants in your ear. “get… out of here,” he grunts. you can see it in his eyes that he didn’t mean to scare you and that he’s holding himself back lest he ends your life with his own two hands. “why are you still here? go!” but despite his warnings you stubbornly stay. “what can i do to make you feel better?” your question is answered as xiao reaches out to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking it back to expose your throat to him. his lips are feverishly hot on your skin as he leaves wet open-mouthed kisses, teeth lightly scraping your skin. “if you don’t leave right now, i won’t hold back,” he warns you again but you’ve already made up your mind as you spread your legs for him.

#genshin impact smut #diluc smut #kaeya smut #zhongli smut #xiao smut #childe smut #itto smut #kazuha smut #tartaglia smut #[❣] — 100 event #[💫] — genshin smut

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Merlin accidentally becomes Legolas/Katniss/Merida… you know the type;

He may be shitty at sword fighting, but Merlin begins to use a traditional bow and arrow and… actually becomes very good at it??

I imagine the first time he does it, it’s a complete fluke.

The five knights, The King, and Merlin are on their way back from yet another (frankly, ridiculous) quest.

They have been, of course, ambushed by a group of bandits, twenty to their six (six plus Merlin, though no one bar Lancelot knows about his magic, so he isn’t counted as a fighter). Though the knights outweigh them in skill, their sheer numbers makes it a… challenging, fight (meaning that they are winning, but far too slowly for their liking, and no one wants to admit it).

Now normally, Merlin hides behind a tree or in a ditch, and performs his spells quietly without being noticed, slowly helping and speeding up the fight. Except this time, the Gang was in the middle of a barren, open field, the bandits had disguised themselves with magic until the moment they attacked, and Merlin was right in the middle of all the action.

Everyone worried for his safety. There was nowhere for him to hide here, so they had to keep an eye on him, lest he get hurt (and Arthur sulked, or kicked off, depending on how badly he was hurt).

With nowhere to hide (and no branches to drop, or roots to trip people with), and one of the knights throwing a glance his way every ten seconds, he couldn’t use his magic.

He was currently on his hands and knees, Leon directly in front of him, Percival to his left, holding off four attackers between them (Merlin would marvel at how impressive that was if he weren’t otherwise preoccupied).

He keeps trying to get to Arthur, crawling between legs and over the groaning, injured bodies of bandits (he made a point to land sharp elbows and harsh knees into the more… sensitive areas), but with everyone moving around so rapidly, and the vicious swinging of swords and axes and maces inches above his head, he kept getting side-tracked and blocked and almost knocked out.

With a frustrated huff, he notices yet another bandit rounding on The King. Said huff turns into a pained gasp when he realises that Arthur hasn’t seen him yet.

The bandit raises his weapon in the air, seconds from bringing it down on Arthur’s back, but Leon is right there, and there are no branches to drop on him, and Arthur still hasn’t noticed!

The noise is too loud, grunts and yells and clashes of metal drowning out any sort of warning yell that Merlin could throw Arthur’s way, and he scrabbles around on the floor desperately; hands raking through sharp grass and over bloodied bodies as he stares in horror at the triumphant smirk on the future-King-killer’s face.

Time seems to slow (no magic, just adrenaline) as Merlin’s hands find purchase on a smooth, curved piece of wood. He picks it up without looking, at first intending to throw whatever it is as hard as he can in the bandits direction, before something (magic, instincts, periphery vision, who knows) tells him to look down.

He obeys, and widens his eyes as he sees the longbow gripped tightly in his right hand, and a stray arrow on the floor next to his left.

Merlin is no expert, only having actually hunted once or twice back home in Ealdor, when he was younger, but that was just enough knowledge for him to know roughly how to notch the arrow and fire. He pulls the two up quickly, a plan formulating in his head:

Step 1) Notch arrow.

Step 2) Close eyes.

Step 3) Magic? Hope?

Step 4) Come up with some sort of lie that explains how he managed to make the shot from sixty yards away, through a crowd.

Thankfully, it would appear that Merlin’s bad luck has given him a rest today; the first three steps go off without a hitch (the fourth will come a little later, when the battle is over), but he doesn’t have time to congratulate himself before he’s thrown into the fray, the bandits now obviously seeing him as some sort of threat.

Arthur finally defeats his own attackers, looking behind him in shock to see his unknown enemy lying on the floor, gurgling up blood and grasping weakly at the arrow through his neck. His head whips to the side, trying to find whoever had made the shot; his bewildered gaze meets Merlin’s for only a second before the servant is dragged to his feet, and promptly punched in the face.

He stumbles back and can just about hear Leon yell something from beside him but he pays it no mind, righting his balance once again and swinging his arm back, before bringing it down harshly on his newest attackers head. The resounding crack echoes over the field as the wood of the longbow splits in two on the bandit’s skull, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

The fight doesn’t last much longer, each knight taking advantage of their enemies' fatigue, and Merlin using his now broken longbow to whack them in the shins or trip them up when they weren’t paying attention.

He was sad to see it broken, but two of his closest friends literally owned a blacksmith's, and he had easy access to the Castle’s armoury; he could get a hold of another one easily enough, as long as he survived the journey back home.

The battle finally came to a close. Everyone was exhausted, and each of them was sporting more than one hefty bruise, but they were all alive and there were no serious injuries, so they could be grateful for that. After Arthur had counted his men, and generally taken stock of things, he traipsed tiredly over to Merlin, who had abandoned his broken bow in favour of cleaning a still weeping cut on Elyan’s temple.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Merlin.”

The servant ignores him at first, biting his lip in concentration as he carefully wipes the grime away from the wound. It was small, so an infection wouldn’t be too worrying, but it wouldn’t be comfortable and would make the scarring worse, so best to avoid it if at all possible. He hums in satisfaction as he leans back on his heels, Elyan gives him a grateful smile, and Merlin finally throws a glance Arthur’s way, before focusing back on threading the needle in his hands; it would only need two or three stitches, thankfully:

“Hmm. I'm not fond of hunting, but we had to for food back in Ealdor. Except we didn’t have fancy crossbows or hunting dogs, so we had to make do with hand-whittled longbows.”

Arthur nods, frowning slightly:

“Still, if I’d known you were that good, I would’ve demanded you had a bow of your own; that way us lot wouldn’t have to spend so much time making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Merlin smirked and quirked an eyebrow, but doesn’t look away from Elyan’s stitches, whispering an apology at the man’s wince before he speaks slowly, concentrating:

“Careful Sire, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

Elyan snorts out a laugh, but Merlin tuts and lightly slaps his leg disapprovingly, and he stills again. Arthur rolls his eyes with a huff:

“As if. Hurry up, I want to get moving as soon as possible.”

Arthur wasn’t the only one that noticed Merlin’s outstanding shot, and over the course of the next few day’s journey home, he received a multitude of compliments from the other knights.

Including an hour long excited infodump about the history and use of longbows from Leon, which Merlin eagerly hung onto every word of, a fond smile on his face (Leon was a noble, and had it practically beaten into him to not ramble, so Merlin always did his best not to discourage the man. That, and the fact that it was actually very interesting, and useful, if he were to keep up this charade that he was an expert marksman).

When Merlin finally had a moment alone with Lancelot, a few days after they had gotten back, he burst:

“Please please tell me you know how to use a longbow??”

Lancelot raises his eyebrow from where he was sat on the bed in Merlin’s room. Merlin was staring at him with unconcealed desperation, and the knight chuckled as he answered:

“Why? It’s not like you need any more training, that was a cracking shot.”

Merlin huffed loudly, running his hands through his hair as he looked back at the knight:

“I used magic!! I closed my eyes so no one would see and I guided the arrow with magic! Now everyone thinks I’m some master marksman! This is bad. What if next time I can’t use magic, or what if someone notices that I have my eyes closed when I fire?”

Lancelot clamps a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to stop himself from giggling, but he gives up quickly, bursting into laughter at the younger man’s panic. Said younger man fumes, sputtering as he picks up one of the knight’s discarded boots and throws it at him:

“It’s not funny, Lance! I’m being serious, this is an actual issue!”

Lancelot calms himself, rubbing the mirth from his eyes as he takes a deep breath:

“Ok ok, sorry. Yes, I can teach you to use a longbow properly. Have you ever actually used one before, or was the hunting thing a cover?”

The red fades from Merlin’s face slightly as he realises the other man is intending to help him, his panic lessening:

“Sort of. Yeah, I went hunting with a bow a couple times, but not enough to be that good at it.”

Lancelot sighs fondly and nods his head:

“Well, that’s a start at least. Come on, I’ve not got patrol until after dinner, and Arthur thinks you’re busy helping Gaius, so we’ve got a few hours.”

So I imagine that’s how it goes for a while.

After their last big adventure, Arthur was reluctant to head out as a group again, wanting to give everyone time to recuperate and get back into the swing of things.

Merlin’s skills with a bow were bought up constantly by everyone, news had even reached Gwen (who gave him a proud smile and a cute little dance to congratulate him) and Gaius (who raised an eyebrow, and had much better skill than Lancelot at holding in his laughter).

Gwaine, Elyan, and even Percival were desperate to set up targets and watch him shoot shit (their words), Leon wanted to talk about the specifics of technique and crafting, and Arthur... well. Arthur sounded like he was taking the piss, but there was something else in his tone that Merlin couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Affection? Pride?

Probably not, probably jealousy and annoyance that Merlin is so effortlessly good at something that Arthur himself was average at at best.

Merlin manages to avoid it for a while, showing his “skills” off, but he and Lancelot are running out of excuses, and Arthur is starting to accuse him of being a fake who got lucky. Normally, things like that didn’t bother Merlin, and technically Arthur wasn’t wrong... he had got lucky, and cheated with magic, but that wasn’t the point. It was nice for Merlin, to be good at something, really good.

He was good at plenty of other things. Magic for starters, though not even Lancelot knew the full extent of his power in that area. But he cooked well (shown by the fact that the knights always scoffed the lot), he was a good physician (shown by the fact that the knights trusted him just as much as Gaius when it came to treating injuries and sickness), and he was a BRILLIANT servant, if he did say so himself.

But he never got any actual praise for that. Merlin hated to think badly of the knights, his friends, but they only complained when Merlin wasn’t there, never praised him when he was. Well, apart from Lancelot. And that had just started a bunch of rumours that they were... uh... boinking.

(False. Anyone with more than two braincells could see that Sir Lancelot was head over heals in love with the newly-promoted Housekeeper, Guinevere, and that The King’s Manservant had an affinity for certain a blond prat-King.)

ANYWAY

It was nice for Merlin to have a skill that others thought worth complimenting, and with Lancelot monitoring his practice sessions, correcting any mistakes and offering congratulations whenever he did well, he hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he no longer had to come up with excuses.

Luckily, Merlin picked it up very quickly.

Despite being clumsy by nature (though Lancelot is starting to suspect more and more that it’s all for show), the dark haired servant can consistently hit bullseyes from fifty yards within a month. The further away from the target he got, the less astounding his aim was, but that was to be expected, and another month later he could successfully hit a moving target from seventy feet.

A training session, around three months after he started properly practicing, he finally “gave in” to Gwaine’s begging. Lancelot helped him set up a bunch of targets, and fetched a bag of apples to throw.

Merlin put on quite the show, grinning at the uproarious applause he got from the knights when he hit every single bullseye, and every single thrown target. Thankfully the knowing, proud smiles between the servant and Sir Lancelot went unnoticed, and even Arthur gave him a clap on the back and an impressed nod.

The first time Merlin met the knights in the courtyard to find Leon holding a longbow and quiver of arrows out to him, he panicked slightly, but one reassuring smile from Lancelot boosted his confidence, and he took them with a quiet thank you.

(After the fifth time, Arthur huffed, and told him to just keep them. He was the only one that regularly signed them out of the armoury anyway, so it would just be easier if he just took possession of them.)

It settled everyone’s stomachs, knowing that not only did the group have a master marksmen, hiding in the trees and taking out enemies that they didn’t see coming, but that Merlin personally now had more than his frankly horrifying (or... horrifying as far as they were concerned) stealth skills to keep him safe.

And that (a master marksmen in the trees) is exactly what happened.

In the early days, it involved a lot of bruises; Merlin could fire well, but firing and balancing at the same time? Took some getting used to, and involved a lot of falling out of trees at inopportune times.

The knights, Gwaine and Arthur especially, laughed endlessly at that, but quickly stopped after a particularly tired and irate and bruised Merlin fired an arrow so close by Gwaine’s crotch, that it stuck his trousers fast into the tree just behind him.

At first, it was meant to be just as back-up; Merlin was no knight. He still refused to wear armour, and Arthur didn’t want his manservant to make himself a target... at least that was his excuse.

Really, it was because (as far as Arthur was aware) Merlin had never deliberately killed before. Even now, years into his Kingship, and even longer into his knighthood, Arthur hated killing; it made him sick, and took a lot of practice at compartmentalization before it no longer bothered him as much.

Merlin was his manservant, his (best) friend, the love of his life (secretly). He was not a warrior, he was not meant to kill, he was meant to be protected from that.

But alas, Merlin did not get the memo, and the first patrol he went on with his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he killed at least five bandits.

After the fight, it was Leon who approached him first, a concerned look on his face despite Merlin’s nonchalant expression as he checked over the string for wear and tear:

“Are you feeling alright, Merlin? You got a few good shots in there, you’re not feeling sick?”

Merlin looked up at the hand on his shoulder and the soft words, a confused look on his face:

“Why would being good make me feel sick?”

Leon tilts his head in sympathy, which just makes Merlin even more confused:

“The man you killed the other month was spur of the moment, protecting your King. But you... you killed a fair few men today, Merlin. I know that can be incredibly difficult at first, I just wanted to check in.”

The others had finally walked over to join them; Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and Arthur looking equally concerned, whilst Lancelot hid his proud smile. Merlin just raised an eyebrow at them:

“You seem to be under the impression that I’ve never killed anyone before?”

Everyone (bar Lancelot) looks taken aback at that, and Arthur frowns whilst Leon drops his hand in shock. The King speaks slowly:

“Merlin, are you telling us you’ve killed people before?”

The manservant clenches his jaw at that and looks back down at his bow, resuming his checking of the string and its knots. He speaks lowly, and the knights can tell it’s not a topic he’s fond of:

“Hmm. It’s a tough world, Sire. I’ve done what I had to, to keep myself and the people I care about safe.”

At his dark reply, conversation stopped, and didn’t resume for the rest of the day as everyone contemplated Merlin’s words.

That is, until he was the first one to successfully catch dinner later that evening. At which he got an incredulous look from Arthur when he made it back to camp with his half of the patrol:

“I thought you despised hunting??”

Merlin didn’t look up from the hares he was skinning, and the rest of the knights tuned in, curious:

“No. I hate hunting for sport; it shows hubris and cruelty. Hunting for food is not only necessary and natural, but humbling, if you do it right and honour every part of the creature.”

Arthur, ever the eloquent one, stared at him blankly, and said, rather dumbly:

“...What?”

Merlin huffed, finally looking up:

“Going after helpless animals on horseback with crossbows and hunting dogs is like giving yourself a huge pat on the back for winning a tournament against an unarmoured, unarmed, unconscious opponent, and then calling yourself strong and brave for daring to fight in the first place. It’s an egotistical act of violence for no other reason than cruelty for the sake of cruelty.-”

The knights looks on him with shock, Percival and Leon at least having the decency to look a little ashamed. Merlin looks back down to the hares, and everyone notices the careful way he cuts at the fur:

“I’ve taken these lives to feed us as a necessity. The meat will be eaten, but that isn’t all. I’ll take the bones home for Gaius, the marrow is useful in a lot of medicine. The fur can be repurposed for winter gloves or socks. The organs and other bits that we won’t eat: I’ll take for the pigs in the farms, or the dogs up at the castle. In using every part of them we are... honouring them, in a way. As a thank-you for their... sacrifice.”

Arthur looks a little dumbfounded. As royalty, he of course had never really considered the waste that comes about with hunting, but Merlin, a farm-boy from a rural village who barely scraped by every winter? Of course he saw a deeper meaning in hunting. He would have to.

Elyan is the first to break the silence:

“You almost sound religious, Merlin.”

Merlin looks up at him, a strained smile on his face. As magic incarnate, he has a particularly strong, temperamental relationship with nature and her creatures, a bond that some might call faith. To be wasteful or cruel in any way hurts him in more ways than one:

“Not really, I just have respect for nature, is all.”

No one mentions the thinly-veiled insult, but everyone creeps closer, wanting to see the way he disassembles the creatures for future reference.

It’s been eight months since that first, perfect shot.

Merlin’s skills with a longbow had become a normal, expected part of The Gang’s experiences, but the knights never stopped praising and thanking him when he saved their lives (something that Merlin still hadn’t quite gotten used), and The King had apparently not stopped thinking about it for barely more than a second.

Yule was approaching quickly: Merlin, Gwen, and the Steward being constantly busy with preparations in the castle, the knights being run off their feet escorting emergency aid to the border villages for the harsh winter, and Arthur himself having every minute of the day taken up with speech writing, invite sending, and his other general King-during-Yule duties.

That however, was all to be expected, and of course did nothing to keep Arthur and Merlin from their annual traditions.

It wasn’t official, it wasn’t even spoken of, but the last evening of Yule, the night before the new year, the two of them always spent together.

The last feast of the year would finish, Arthur would stay to see his guests off, thank the staff for all of their hard work, and finally retire to his chambers, his tired manservant barely a hair’s breadth behind him. They would sit in front of the lit hearth (in comfy chairs that only they used), work their way through a jug or two of wine, exchange small gifts, and fall asleep in front of the fire. Their hands, dangling over the side of their chairs, seem to be creeping closer and closer with each passing year; though have yet to become entangled by morning.

This year was somehow no different, and very different, at the same time.

The King and his Manservant settled in their chairs, tired and already a little more than tipsy from the wine drunk during the feast. Arthur looked up at Merlin, the fond smile dropping from his face when he sees the other man’s features pulled into a contemplative frown:

“What’s on your mind, Merls? I don’t think I’ve seen you this serious since the start of the celebrations.”

Merlin looked up at him suddenly, his eyes wide, but he smiles and shakes his head:

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking is all.”

Normally, Arthur would raise an eyebrow and let a scathing tease on the state of Merlin’s intelligence fall from his lips, but not tonight. This is the only night of the year that The King allows himself to entertain the idea that perhaps he and Merlin were more than friends, or at least could be. So instead he resumes his smiling, and looks back to the fire, taking another sip of his wine before responding softly:

“What about?”

Merlin hums, copying Arthur’s wine-sipping, before taking a deep breath:

“The future, mostly. You, me, Camelot. Secrets and truths, and when one might turn into the other. Soon, I think... yeah. Soon.”

Arthur huffs slightly in amusement. He knows that Merlin hides a great deal of himself, but he always becomes more cryptic after a few glasses of wine, like he desperately wants to say something and doesn’t have the power to stop himself from hinting at whatever it may be.

He asks his next question good-naturedly, a smile sweetened by wine gracing his face:

“The hell does that mean?”

Merlin lets out a short laugh, looking up at the other man:

“Oh, you know. Thinking about spilling all my deepest darkest secrets to you, at some point soon.”

Arthur snorts, saying, only for the sake of keeping up the charade they’ve built:

“You don’t have any secrets, Merlin. Certainly not any that are deep or dark.”

Once, Arthur would have believed that. Then, when he stopped believing it, he was angry about it, and now? Now, he finds he doesn’t mind so much. He is confident, he has faith, in both himself and in Merlin. He knows that those secrets are there, and Merlin knows that he knows, but that’s ok. Nothing either of them could reveal would tear them apart, at least not for long, so Arthur was happy to wait until Merlin was happy to share.

Merlin chuckled at Arthur’s response, shaking his head slightly before reaching down and picking up a small wrapped parcel that he’d stowed away before the feast:

“Come on, I’m a little nervous about your gift this year, so let’s get it over and done with.”

Arthur nodded, accepting the change in subject, and set his wine down so he could pick up the (much bigger) parcel by his own chair.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. After the first gift-exchange happened, Merlin had put his foot down and made Arthur swear to not go overboard on the expense side of things. Arthur may have been a prince, and now a King, but Merlin was still just a servant/physician; he could hardly afford anything worthy of a King.

He had a feeling that Arthur might’ve broken his word this year, but where Arthur had likely gone overboard with expense, Merlin had definitely gone overboard with sentimentality.

They swapped parcels, Merlin placing the large, heavy box carefully at his feet as he gestured Arthur to open his first. Arthur got to it, tearing the paper off without a second of hesitation, and Merlin allowed himself to smile fondly at the child-like excitement on the blonde’s face.

Arthur’s brow creased as he dropped the paper to the floor, stroking soft fingers over the worn leather of an old, well-loved book. Merlin took deep, fortifying breaths as Arthur carefully opened the first few pages, butterflies in his stomach as Arthur’s eyes wandered the yellowed paper in curiosity.

The King looked up at him, amused confusion on his face as he asked:

“Is this yours? I didn’t know you could draw, Merlin.”

Merlin gulped, and shook his head as memories of the exquisite sketches filled his mind; detail-perfect renditions of the castle, the town square, waterfalls and knights in action and people that Merlin didn’t recognise (for the most part. Arthur evidently hadn’t gotten to any of the pages with young Uther on them).

“No, not mine. This one requires a little explanation-”

Arthur nodded, carefully closing the book and holding it protectively in his lap as he gave Merlin his undivided attention:

“-I mentioned off-handedly to Leon a few months ago that I thought the lack of... of paintings of the late Queen in the castle was odd.-”

Arthur gulped at the mention of his mother, but nodded with a small smile when Merlin paused:

“-He said that when she passed, The King had everything to do with her moved to the vaults. He couldn’t force himself to destroy any of it, but looking at it, day in and day out, was too painful. We found the keys, with the help of Geoffrey, and went down to have a look, see what we could find. We didn’t tell you about it because we didn’t want to disappoint you, in case we couldn’t find anything.-”

Merlin once again looked a little nervous at this, and reached a hand out towards Arthur. When the man didn’t flinch away (if anything, he leaned into it), he moved to grip his shoulder blade, running his thumb over the exposed skin at the base of The King’s neck.

“-We found... a lot. Old clothes and paintings mainly, some jewellery. But then I found that;-”

He nodded at the book in Arthur’s lap, and tightened his grip on his shoulder. Merlin spoke his next words so quietly that Arthur almost doesn’t hear him, a soft smile on his face:

“-your mother was quite the artist, Arthur. I knew you had to have it.”

Arthur gasped softly, his eyes widening as he looked down at the book:

“You... you think my mother drew these?”

Merlin smiled at him, moving his hand to squeeze Arthur’s wrist slightly, before dropping it entirely:

“Check the back page.”

Arthur took a deep breath before doing what Merlin said, handling the book with even more care than he had before now that he knows who it belonged to. He turned to the very last page, to see an inscription written in beautiful cursive. Merlin recited it aloud, having memorised the words weeks ago:

“My dearest son, my silly sketches are able to hold only a fraction of our Kingdom’s beauty. I know one day that you will see what I see, treasure it just as much, and make it your own. You have my support, forever and always, your loving Mother.”

Arthur bites his lip harshly, lifting the book to press his forehead against the words as he shuts his eyes tightly, though that does nothing to stop the tears. Merlin replaces his hand on The King’s shoulder as the man shakes. He sniffles slightly, putting the book back in his lap, though keeping his hands wrapped around it securely, as he looks to Merlin:

“Merlin, I... I don’t even know what to say. This is... amazing. I... Thank you.”

Merlin smiles, shaking his head slightly:

“Technically, it wasn’t even mine to give, it’s always been yours. But I thought it might make a nice surprise. There’s plenty of other stuff down there, I’ll show you in the morning.”

Arthur nods his head, wiping his tears as he carefully places the book on his side table and gestures to the box at Merlin’s feet. He was itching to scour through the book, dedicating every single line to memory, but whilst Merlin had been nervous about Arthur’s gift, Arthur was buzzing about Merlin’s, and he was desperate to see the man’s reaction.

Merlin huffs out a laugh, but picks the box up, noting once again how heavy it is. He sets about removing the paper, much calmer and more methodical than Arthur had been, with his face pinched in concentration.

He frowns in curiosity as he sets eyes on the wooden box. It had a hinged lid, and a logo that he’s certain he recognises burned like a brand into the corner. He can feel Arthur bouncing in his chair slightly, and looks up at him in amusement, laughing once again when he nods excitedly back down at the box.

He lifts the lid, and takes in a shocked breath.

Inside was a beautifully crafted long bow; the wood smooth and varnished and carved, and a leather quiver. The patterns embossed in the leather and carved in to the metal at the base, match those carved into the wood of the bow, and Merlin traces soft fingers over the intricate swirls, stopping with a teary smile at the Pendragon crest, carved just next to a Merlin bird.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding as he looks up at the excited King:

“Arthur this is beautiful. Gods I almost don’t want to touch it, I feel like it should be on display behind glass.”

Arthur lets out a laugh, obviously pleased with Merlin’s reaction:

“Nope. It will be going with you every time you leave the city, and considering how much trouble we always seem to attract, I have no doubt that it will see a lot of use.”

Merlin laughs, closing the lid carefully and setting the box back on the floor, before launching himself bodily at Arthur. The blonde laughs, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle with no hesitation as the other man mutters endless thank-yous in his ear.

The servant finally pulls back, settling in his own chair again, and the two of them hope that the other puts the flush on their face down to the wine, and nothing else. They look to each other with wide grins on their faces, and Arthur breaks the stare first, taking another gulp of his wine before laughing jovially and speaking:

“Well. Here’s to an amazing year, and hopefully an even better one, starting in a few minutes.”

Merlin nods, lifting his own goblet to tap it against Arthur’s:

“Here’s to the past, that guides us-”

He gestures to the book on Arthur’s table:

“-and the future, that calls to us.”

He gestures to his new bow, and they both finish their wine off, a healthy flush to their cheeks and fond smiles on their faces.

They fall asleep in their respective chairs, the same as every year.

In the morning, they wake with pounding headaches, a promise of a golden future, and hands intertwined.

THE END!!

We love a cutesy/hopeful ending😌

Like always lads, you wanna write it out in full, go for it, credit and tag me✌️

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

Change of Scenery // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Captain Bobby Nash has kept a secret from his friends, his wife and his step children since 2015 when he came to LA. Bobby’s eldest and only surviving child comes to LA to reconcile and make amends all the while she catches the eye of a certain blue eyed firefighter.

Warnings: Swearing, death/familial loss, pregnancy, blood, angst, injuries/medical emergency, and fluff

Words: 8k

A/N: Back at it with another 9-1-1 fic. Hope you enjoy, and I may just have to do another crossover with 9-1-1 and Julie and the Phantoms.

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Masterlist

There are moments in our lives that define us, whether it can be known as a positive or negative, but the outcome is always the same. A six-letter word that strikes fear and excitement into the souls of humans is change. The fear can be for ourselves or as a result of a child, a sibling, or a parent branching out on their own. Unfortunately, you had gone through a harsh and cruel experience on a cold winter night in the city you grew up in.

A typical Thursday filled with classes at the college you attended in Minnesota on a scholarship, nothing out of the ordinary. The plan had been to drive to your parents’ apartment to catch up with them for the weekend. Saturday morning was already reserved for a girls day with your little sister Brook and your mom. In the afternoon, you’d promised to take your brother Bobby to the ball diamond.

Your bag was packed, the plan to drive straight from class to St. Paul the following day to arrive in the daylight. Your dad struggled with worry when it came to you driving in the dark and especially in winter with icy roads.

“Y/N!” Dottie screeched from the living room of the four-bedroom dormitory. The pretty and curvy brunette had been the first friend you made in college.

Typically Dottie was on the quieter side, so when she screamed, you practically sprinted to the girl.

“Where’s the fire?” You demanded with a smirk at the reference to a topic that was a constant in your family.

The fire drills your father conducted every four months for an exit plan in case of a fire and general information to save yourselves. He had also trained you to remember fire hazards and how to call dispatch with clear information if that time ever came. It never did and hopefully never would.

“The Lakeview Apartments in St. Paul.” Dottie’s dark brown eyes spoke only of pity and concern. The five foot ten roommate literally caught you as you tumbled into her arms with a loud grief-stricken scream.

You were forever indebted to the brunette for the plans she sacrificed to drive you back to St. Paul. There was absolutely no chance Dottie would allow you to both drive and be alone with no news. The media hadn’t released the names of the 148 deaths the fire relentlessly tore from the land of the living.

“I want to prepare you for what you’ll see. Your mother suffered severe third-degree burns over the majority of her body.” The kind nurse, also one of your friend’s parent, explained as she guided you to the Burn Center in the Regions Hospital, “I don’t want to lie and tell you she’ll be fine. You’re an adult Y/N. You deserve the truth and not be coddled.”

“Is she gonna survive?” You quietly asked, “Has she woken up since she was brought in?”

“The doctor placed her on a high dosage of morphine for the pain. Your father hasn’t left her side.” Lucinda informed you with sympathy written as over her face, The hazel eyes unable to adequately meet yours.

“I’ll check on her, then could you take me to the rooms my siblings are in?” You asked, completely unaware Brook and Bobby had been DOA at the hospital.

Your father hadn’t answered the text messages or the voicemails you had left on his phone—radio silent. You couldn’t be mad when he was with your mom, but a text would have been nice.

“This is where your mother is staying for the unforeseeable future. If you need anything, you can call me.” Lucinda softly replied before turning her heel to head back to the Burn Centre’s front desk.

It was horrific walking into a room with no idea if the occupant who had raised you would survive. The confident, gorgeous mother you had for the past nineteen years was unfamiliar to you, the extensive gauze covering nearly every inch of her body. You almost couldn’t even recognize the man sitting in the chair with his hands wrapped.

“Dad? What happened?” You questioned the grieving man. The only person left in your family as you would soon come to know.

“Y/N?” Bobby gasped, pushing himself to his feet, staring at his only living child. The guilt ate at him just staring at you with those light brown eyes, “Oh, sweetheart.”

Your dad crossed the room in a few steps. The scent of smoke was still clinging to every part of him, but it was fine. Your dad was okay, minus the wounds on his hands. You’d always been closer with your father than your mother.

“Dad, what happened?” You quietly asked the ashamed firefighter that had to reconcile his feelings on the fire and his career—that struggle ending up pushing you away when he really just wanted you as close as possible.

“The building caught on fire after an ember from a heater lit a blanket on fire,” Bobby informed you with his eyes pinned on his wife. Bobby knew the chances of Marcy surviving were incredibly low, and he had to tell you that.

Bobby only knew the details passed on from a firefighter who pitied the man who’d lost most of his family.

“Is Mom gonna be okay?” You questioned, and the said injured woman in the bed weakly responded.

“Baby?” Marcy quietly questioned from her absolutely still position on the hospital bed, “Uh, Bobby.”

You left your father’s side to be as close to your mom as possible, with the clear plastic separating you for her safety. Your heart shattered at the sheer exhaustion in her pretty blue eyes.

“Hi, Mom.” You shakily spoke with one hand lightly pressed against the plastic divider. You didn’t even notice when your dad stepped up too.

“Marcy?” Bobby called out from right beside you, just as torn up, but Bobby carried extra weight on his shoulders, “We’re right here, Marcy. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The muffled grunt of pain, your mom’s attempt to save you from grief, Marcy let out as she turned her head to look at you. You knew deep in your gut that this was the time place you would see your mom alive. And by the look in her eyes, she knew too.

“The...kids…?” Your mom’s breathing became more erratic as she questioned the man she viewed as her hero. The man she believed had saved her and their youngest children, “Where...are they?”

“The kids are fine.” The way your father said it and the tears led to the knowledge once kept from you.

“No.” You whispered, seeing the total grief written clear on his face. The pain meds and agony kept your mom from knowing the truth.

“They’re safe.”

“I knew you’d come and save us.” Your mom breathed as her eyes started hiding the pretty blue you’d now only see in pictures. In your dreams, until even those faded as father time cruelly pulled you along.

Then your worst nightmare happened. You watched as the woman you looked up to flatlined with the thought of her children safe. You’d always know she’d held on just long enough to find out the state of her children. You could only hope she’d forgive your father for lying to her as she died.

“Mom!” You screamed, fighting the arms of an orderly restraining you. You barely noticed the resistance to your frantic attempts.

One minute you were staring at a team unsuccessfully trying to revive your long-gone mother, then you were in a hotel room. The atmosphere tense and quiet between father and daughter, with the ghost of your dead family to keep you both company. You could hear Brook gagging every time you’d kissed your now ex. You could see Bobby toddling after you years ago.

At least you had your father—a father whose guilt festered until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“It was my fault.” He murmured, staring at the barely eaten burger that tasted solely just cardboard. He couldn’t bear to look at your face, “I didn’t mean to leave it on.”

Your head snapped to stare at him in disbelief, “What do you mean you didn’t mean to leave it on?”

“I-I went to the roof to sleep after your mom kicked me out. I didn’t have my keys to the apartment I had below ours.” Bobby began spilling the lies he’d told to you about his addictions. Of the apartment, you’d had no clue was even in his possessions.

The pain of losing your family tore into you, “You took my mom away from me. I’ll never get to share my wedding day with her. Shopping for a dress and gossiping about boys. I’ll never be able to wipe Brook’s tears during her first heartbreak.”

Each word broke Bobby more and more.

“You stole my future. You’re selfish, ungrateful and utterly pathetic. You cost so many people so much, all because you sought out your next high.” You spat, glaring at someone you’d never expected to hurt you. You didn’t notice your hands grabbing your possessions nor opening the hotel room door, “You couldn’t even properly try to get clean.”

“Y/N-”

“Get your shit together before you kill anyone else. I never want to see you again.” You sobbed with regret already festering in your body, but pride held you back from apologizing.

Upon your return to your dorm with Dottie by your side, you immediately began the process to enter an exchange program. Within a month, your feet entered Sydney Airport. You didn’t return to America for several years.

You took a job as a casual lifeguard on Bondi Beach, met Lucas in a meet-cute situation at the grocery store. You graduated college and found a job as a paramedic as you began becoming a flight paramedic. In 2020 Lucas and you discovered you’d be bringing in a little baby into the world.

Learning about your little Cashew growing safe in your womb fanned the flame of desire to reconcile. Ultimately the pride kept pushing the urge to apologize for the cruel words you told your father further away. You naively believed you had all the time in the world.

Remember the six-letter scary word? If losing your mom, siblings, and father was a devastating blow, losing Lucas was nearly tied. Your little Cashew lost their father before they even got to meet him. That was push enough to pack up your home and fly back to America with your father’s new address as soon as you could.

In the fallout of the apartment fire, your father relocated from Minnesota to Los Angeles.

Los Angeles, 2020

As soon as you’d found the nicest but cheapest hotel to stay in until you found a place, you walked the streets of LA. The first order of business of approaching your father at his workplace as you had no personal address. Residing still in Minnesota, Deputy Chief Evans had only given you the address of Bobby’s work.

You could only hope Bobby wouldn’t turn you away. That he was willing to bridge the gap, you’d widened over the years. That he could forgive the silence to each email, he sent when you changed numbers.

“We should go out to dinner.” The female voice was what brought you back to the present time. The woman was beautiful with her buzzed head and clear skin.

Right by her side was a dark-haired male of Asian ethnicity with a bag thrown over his shoulder, “If you’re paying, you bet I’ll be there.”

The two continued to converse in their own world until the man had to literally dodge you when they finally noticed you.

“Does Chief Bobby Nash work here?” You inquired, having no desire to enter small talk when the baby was sitting on your bladder again. You nearly retched when the man stared down at your swollen midsection, shocked, “It’s not his baby.”

Hen caught the evident disgust on your face, “He’s in his office. I’ll guide you there…”

“Y/N.” You supplied the firefighter. Hen smiled in response, “And your name is…”

“Henrietta Wilson, but you can call me Hen. That was Howard Han. He goes by Chimney, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy on the name.” Hen chuckled in her steps to the closed door of the fire chief. Hen swiftly knocked on the door to give Bobby a heads up.

“Come in!” Bobby called from his pile of paperwork he had pushed and waited to work on. It had slipped as the date came closer. Your twenty-seventh birthday, the seventh one since he last saw you.

“Cap, a woman is asking for you,” Hen told her friend and boss. It’s a good thing you didn’t choose to surprise your father because Hen was shorted, and your bump made manoeuvring around tricky.

“What can I do…” Bobby trailed off when he saw the girl waiting to talk to him. The pen in his hand dropped to the table in shock.

Hen glanced between the two equally taken aback individuals, “Am I missing something here?”

“Hey, dad.” You whispered to the man who’d been dreaming of this moment since the minute you left. He’d searched for you at your previous college and nearly made a missing person report.

“Dad?” Hen couldn’t pick her jaw up from the floor if she even wanted to because this was juicy information. Sure, Bobby had caved into telling his team, his family that he’d lost his wife and two children in a fire.

He rarely talked about his life before the 118, but he’d never mentioned having a surviving daughter. Not in the handful of times he’d talked about the tragedy, nor did he have any objects or photos of you.

“You’re really here?” Bobby lightly chuckled with a twinkle in his eye. Hen had only seen a handful of times. All of them had Athena in the scene, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You beamed, stepping closer to the man you’d missed dearly, “I’m so sorry for the way I left. What I said was cruel and untrue. You aren’t selfish, and I can’t blame you for something you couldn’t control.”

Bobby grinned. He’d stepped around his desk only to halt when he took in an undeniable development—the baby bump you carried.

“Is-”

“I’m pregnant. Six months along with a baby girl.” You laughed to the apparent disbelief in your father’s light brown eyes. His gaze continued to shift between the bump and your e/c eyes.

“Wow. Sorry, this is...wow.”

“She’s one of the reasons I wanted to come back. To fix our relationship because I want her to know her grandpa. You’re the only grandparent Poppy will know.” Bobby was quick to tug you into his arms as soon as the first tear dropped down your cheek.

There was so much you wanted to tell your father, but that overwhelming grief rose higher. You’d left Australia where Lucas laid in a plot in a cemetery. You left the friends you’d found in the city. Left the lifeguard job you’d come to love.

“Where are you and your partner staying?”

“He...uh...Lucas passed away recently.”

The arms holding you tightened in response to your confession, “Oh sweetheart.”

“I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t stay in the home we bought. Not the place he died when I couldn’t save him.”

“I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’-”

“Don’t coddle me. I was...am a paramedic. A flight paramedic, to be specific, so I know that my hesitation could be the reason he died.”

Your career took the father by complete and utter surprise because you’d always planned on a different job. Before the fire that claimed so many lives, you’d never entertained a career in the emergency field.

“We have a lot to catch up on. First, you need to know that I’ll always love your mother no matter what, but you need to know. I met someone when I first moved here, and we were friends at first. She divorced her husband. We started dating...sweetheart, I remarried.”

A wave of emotions flared in your chest, from betrayal to sadness and ultimately happiness. Having lost your first love, you understood and knew if love came around for you, you wouldn’t ignore it. Lucas wouldn’t want that.

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

Re-entering into Bobby’s new life was a difficult adjustment for everyone included. Tension had risen between Athena and Bobby for a brief period. Athena hadn’t even been aware of your existence, but she could fault Bobby. Athena had even told her first husband about her late fiance Emmett when they were still together.

It was difficult for you with the new addition of two step-siblings in the same birth order as Brook and Bobby had been. The Grant siblings had welcomed you into the family without any reservations.

“Did you ever get to fly the chopper?” Harry asked as he scrubbed the dirty dish from the Sunday family dinner.

It was the first dinner that had no awkward tension since you arrived back in the country. Athena had taken a bit to warm up, but it was nothing personal. She’d actually been the one to find you you’d been staying at a hotel. Mama Athena did not like her pregnant step-daughter living at a hotel. She’d actually stormed your room with Hen and Karen as back up to pack your room and leave for the Grant-Nash house.

“No. I had to help keep the patients alive. If I’m telling the truth...sometimes I didn’t even notice I was in the air.” You whispered to your stepbrother. He was just invested in your career as he had been when Bobby first entered their lives.

“That is so cool!” Harry enthused with soap suds splashing your thin knitted sweater. Harry’s mouth formed an ‘o’ when you flicked water onto his face in retaliation.

“Do you know Bondi Beach in Australia?” You inquired the youth with the chore of dishes completed.

“Yeah! There’s a tv show called Bondi Rescue! I watch the clips on YouTube!” Harry exclaimed, hot on your heels to the couch. Out of May and Harry, he followed you around with questions about your life in Australia.

“I was a casual lifeguard. I’m not featured on that show, but I would get called in when a lifeguard was needed. It paired well with my job as a flight paramedic.” You half-smiled, remembering the Bondi lifeguards who had welcomed you into the family. You became one of them when they started pranking you.

“Did you ever see a shark-”

“Harry, go brush your teeth. Leave Y/N alone.” Athena informed her youngest from the open patio doors. Your father, Athena and May had been outside as soon as the table had been cleared.

“But-”

“Harry,” Athena warned the youngest Grant. Harry didn’t attempt to argue with his stern mother; all he did was hug you quickly. You watched the young boy disappear into the hallway.

“He reminds you of your little brother?” Athena questioned. In your time of reminiscing, the older woman had settled in Harry’s previous position.

“A little.” You whispered, “Thank you for welcoming me into the family. For making my dad happy.”

“You know I may have some baby clothes put away if you’d like to use them?” Athena offered with that smile that made you feel at home. Athena was far different from your late mother, with her presence commanding respect and intelligence. Your mom was similar, but I suppose it could be described as a softer touch.

“Anyway, saving a penny is appreciated. I have a question for you also.” You hesitantly started with a bundle of nerves deep in your belly. Athena turned to give you her full attention.

“Well? Out with it.” Athena pushed, but she had a slight feeling of what you were about to ask her.

“My mom was one the strongest women I know. It hurts that my baby won’t get to experience her love and guidance, and you can say no. We’ve only known each other a short time, but would you consider...maybe being a grandma to my baby?”

Giddy was the feeling Athena developed along with the laughing smile that only came from happiness. The woman could only nod her head in response to your hesitant question. To Athena’s knowledge but not yours, Bobby was softly smiling, watching his formerly estranged daughter getting along with your stepmom.

“Oh!” You gasped as your baby kicked hard enough for her foot imprint to be seen through your knitted sweater.

Bobby was by your side in concern the second he heard your startled sound, but Athena wasn’t that concerned. Athena remembered having the same reaction.

“Are you okay?” Bobby frantically questioned. He faltered when the woman shared a belly-deep laugh at the sheer fear written in the seasoned firefighter’s eyes.

“Poppy was kicking.” You chuckled as your father’s shoulders dropped in relief, “Here.”

Your nimble fingers clasped around your father’s wrist to bring his palm to the spot Poppy was kicking. A certain lightness flooded your entire body, being capable of sharing this experience with Bobby. Watching tears well up in the grandpa to be’s brown eyes.

“Whoa.” Bobby breathlessly spoke as Poppy kicked against his palm. The feeling building in his was exhilarating with the small amount of grief mixed in, “I remember when your mom was pregnant with you. We didn’t know if we were having a girl or boy, but she was adamant you would be a kickboxer. So active.”

Athena watched as the relationship between father and daughter started healing directly in front of her eyes. The Sergeant was about to give you two some privacy when you caught her hand in your free one.

“Here.” You informed the older woman shifting to place her hand where your father’s hand had previously been. Your e/c eyes sought the wonder-filled different shades of brown eyes the couple had.

“You should get some sleep,” Athena spoke, staring at her hand resting on your bump. Her dark chocolate brown rising to find your gaze, “You won’t be getting a lot once she arrives.”

Bobby and Athena watched as you turned the corner to the spare room Athena’s parents used when they visited. For the time being, you’ve moved into the room, and the Grant-Nash house hoped you would stay. May had always wanted a sister, and Harry loved all the stories you told about Australia.

“You know, at some point, you’ll have to talk to her.”

“I just was-’

“-without anyone else being the buffer. Bobby, both your lives is evidence enough that some things are too trivial to stress over.” Athena pinned her stern gaze on her husband. The same husband is actively trying to avoid her penetrating gaze.

“What I did-’

“Is in the past, Bobby. You have a second chance with that wonderful woman in that bedroom and our grandchild. Now, are you sure that having the party at the firehouse is okay?”

A hand supported the base of your back where an ache tended to stay for most of the day. That ache wasn’t the worst symptom of your pregnancy. You had heartburn constantly that tied with unfortunate constipation that had thankfully lessened. Your purse always had a cardigan for the hot flashes as well.

“Perfect! May has my car, and Bobby needed that.” Athena beamed from the open bay of the 118. One of the firefighters, Eddie, if you recalled, snagged your purse and the specific ingredient for a recipe.

“You could have borrowed Bobby’s-”

“His vehicle is in the shop Buck.” Athena interrupted the only member of the 118 you had let to officially meet.

Now there were two suspects of the sudden shortness of breath you started experiencing. It could be Poppy in the limited space in your body or the handsome firefighter. Buck had to be hands down none of the most attractive men you’d ever encountered. His dark blonde hair had minimal height, but the soft waves made your fingers itch to feel it. His ocean blue eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth.

“Ah, so you’re flesh and blood of Cap?” Buck questioned from in front of you. His blue eyes centred solely on you, with half a mind thanking himself that he could navigate the station blindfolded in the dark.

“For the last twenty-seven years, I have been.” You retorted, stopping at the edge of the stairs to the apparatus. Your keen sense of smell catching one of your favourite meals your father had dug up from the recipes he hadn’t used in years.

A zing of electricity trailed off your arm when a calloused palm met yours. Your e/c eyes followed the path of tan skin until it reached the shirt sleeve of Buck’s t-shirt. The shirt emblazoned on the chest with the department’s insignia. The man in the casual uniform guided you safely up the stairs with his hand on your back.

The pressure of Buck’s hand on your aching back muscle nearly brought what would be an embarrassing moan from your lips. Thankfully a gasp of surprise fell out instead at the banner hanging with other decorations.

“What?” You choked, cupping your hands to your face. Pure unadulterated shock and affection flooded every inch of you.

The entire 118 squad intermixed with their loved ones surrounded the open area with grins. On a table behind everyone was many wrapped gifts. But the cake was the most impressive.

A large rectangular cake in the realistic shape of a fire engine parked in front of a fire hydrant with a fondant hose going to the truck. On top of the fire truck was the turnout boots next to the matching helmet, the 118 proudly on it. You adored the turnout coat draping off the top to hang off the side.

“If you look at the helmet, it says Poppy.” Buck enthused, guiding you even closer to catch the immaculate cake, “It has to be the best cake we’ve gotten from them.”

“Hey, my rebar head cake was phenomenal!” Chimney called with a belying grin on his face. His hand encased by a brunette woman about his height with her heels on.

“It’s a long story.” Buck offered as soon as you gave him a weird questioning look, “Let me introduce you to everyone!”

For the next five minutes, you spend it by meeting the family of 118, including Eddie’s completely adorable son. Christopher was happy to sit next to you as soon as Harry had found you. Slowly the others came closer to hear the stories.

“What’re the most common injuries on the beach?” Denny, Hen and Karen’s ten-year-old son questioned.

“Bluebottle Jellyfish stings. On one day, we had hundreds of people come to the tower for stings, and the treatment for the minor ones is stingose spray and ice.”

“My question is how a girl from Minnesota is a lifeguard in Australia. Especially on Sydney’s most dangerous beach.” Chimney inserted, waving his bottle of pop at you, his eyes kept moving towards the wine Maddie brought.

Unfortunately, the 118 wouldn’t be celebrating with the wine until their shifts ended in a few short hours. It was a damn miracle they hadn’t been called out yet.

“This former Minnesotan spent summers at my best friend’s parents’ place in Cali as a lifeguard. Also, Bondi is not the most dangerous beach in Sydney. That’s Tamarama.” You pointed towards the man who raised his hands in surrender.

“Have you ever seen a dead body?” Harry asked, bringing a sobering silence in the question’s wake.

Your body language changed as soon as he asked, “Unfortunately, I’ve seen death as a paramedic and as a lifeguard.”

“You’re a paramedic? I thought you were just a lifeguard?” Buck asked, interested in the new information. Buck could feel his Captain’s eyes on the back of his head; he was sure Bobby could smell the attraction on Buck.

“Casual lifeguard. Called when needed as a backup.” You turned your e/c eyes towards the arguably youngest member of the 118.

“How many dead-”

“Harry.” Athena warned her son from continuing a topic that killed the ease and happiness you’d shown previously, “Why don’t we stop talking about-”

“Too many, Harry.” You interrupted your stepmom with a gentle smile towards the woman, “It’s not just drowning that claims lives but also the cliffs surrounding the beaches. Lifeguards patrol more than the beaches and water. Lifeguards respond to medical emergencies, mostly spinal until the paramedics arrive.”

“Oh-”

“I had a fellow lifeguard leave the job because of the suicides we deal with.”

“...who wants cake?” Karen used the quiet interlude of the much too serious topic for a group of kids barely in the double digits of ages. All referenced children followed Hen’s life to the beautiful baked creation.

“Sorry for getting dark there.”

“We all know the dark side of the jobs we chose to do. You sound like you miss Australia. Are you going to return there?” Eddie questioned with one eye pinned on his son, consuming more sugar than he wished.

Eddie’s question did raise self-doubt, but you knew that ultimately living in Australia was no longer a viable option.

“There’s nothing there for me.”

Eddie, Buck and your father understood that mentality to a ‘t’ with family complications keeping them away. Your father for obvious reasons, whereas Eddie and Buck each had a living family with opinions only they saw right.

“You’re always welcome here. Especially when you bring that little cutie to the firehouse.” Maddie cooed towards your baby bump. The 911 dispatcher had asked many questions about your pregnancy.

Maddie was the type of person who could make a stranger feel like they had known for their entire lives.

“Here.”

A plate of the cake was thrust in front of your face courtesy of Maddie’s brother Buck. It is quite literally the perfect size you could ask for. In his other hand, he had a new bottle of water waiting for you to grab.

“Thank you, Buck.” Your shock must have shown in your voice when his cheeks flushed.

“This whole party is a celebration for you, so you shouldn’t have to get up...unless you want to!” Buck rushed to respond, getting more flustered with the amused look of his older sister on him, “You’re already doing something absolutely amazing, so you should get to rela-”

“Buck!” You laughed, ending the older man’s rambling thoughts. The entire party attendees had started watching Buck’s failed smooth attempt.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Buck mutely nodded in response, “No prob-”

The bell was the one to interrupt him instead. The on-duty firefighters rushed down from the upper levels to the lockers. The swift suiting up impressed you as it was like you blinked, and the bay was empty.

“Should be the last call before they get off shift.” Maddie, still occupied with the cake she was eating, “That wine looks so good!”

Your attention snapped from the vacant spots the 118 vehicles parked to the woman ploughing down on the cake. Sure it was good, but not that good. Maybe you could tell as a pregnant woman, or perhaps you just caught some of the symptoms you felt.

“How far along are you?”

Maddie froze, “What are you talk-”

“You’re pregnant, right?”

“Don’t tell anyone. Chim and I found out recently, but we want to wait on telling people. Once the first trimester is over, everyone can know.” Maddie pleaded with two hands cupped under her chin in a prayer position. The pretty brunette using the puppy dog eyes on the new friend she’d made.

“You should tell Buck-”

“We will once we enter the safe zone. So tell me about your baby’s father.” Maddie swiftly changed the subject, unaware of the ache developing in your midsection.

“Lucas Gowan.” You mussed, recalling the freckled half Australian half Scots man with the thick red locks.

“Ooh, is he still in Australia?”

“Technically, he is. I met him at the grocery store near the university campus. I’d transferred to escape my grief. It was purely an attraction at first sight before developing into love at first sight. We convocated and moved into a cosy little place. We’d only just found out about the baby when Lucas passed away.”

As you told Maddie, your hand had moved to cradle the only remaining piece of Lucas.

“His death was unexpected and sudden. He’d taken a run the morning of our scan to find out baby Gowan’s gender. He fell off the side of the cliff. I was told he died instantly. The investigator believes his shoelace untied, and he stepped on it. Fell right off the side.”

“I’m so sorry.” Maddie breathed, leaning closer to hold your hands in her own, “He’d be so proud of you. For returning to the states. Do you keep in contact with his family?”

“He was an only child. Parents died in a car accident when he was ten years old. He was in foster care until he aged out of the system. Poppy is named after his mom.”

Maddie instinctively knew talking about Lucas was, “You know you get along pretty well with Buck... I’ve never seen him so flustered.”

“Maddie, I can tell you are a very intelligent woman, but you’re wrong here. Why would a guy like Buck be interested in a pregnant woman with a reconciling relationship with her father and his Captain while grieving her baby’s dad?”

Maddie tilted her head to the side, “Because I know my brother. He’s only ever had that look when I first moved to LA. Back when Abby was still important to him.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

Maddie’s mouth opened to speak, but you were saved by the bell when Athena called you over for pictures. Then her attempts got thwarted once more when the 118 returned to the house perfectly synced to the end of shift.

“Driving here was the last time until the baby’s here. You’ve got precious cargo-”

“I’m seven months pregnant; I can still drive. There’s no law saying I can’t-”

Never argue with Athena Grant-Nash, “It may not be illegal, but I won’t endanger my daughter or my granddaughter.”

“I have to get to my OB/GYN appointment tomorrow. You and Dad each have a long shift during my scheduled appointment. Harry is both too young to drive and in school. May has a shift at dispatch. There’s literally no one available to take me.”

Bobby watched as two of the most important women in his life argued over something as trivial as driving. Harry shook at listening to someone fighting against his mother; she could be terrifying.

“I can take her.”

Everyone in the fir house turned to the voice who’d offered suddenly and found the sheepish form of a tall firefighter. Eddie’s eyebrows raised at his best friend.

“I don’t work tomorrow. I’ve got no plans. Albert’s got some date with a girl at her place.”

“I couldn’t put you out.”

“You need a ride, and I’ll be bored, so why not take my new friend to her baby doctor.”

“Baby doctor?” Hen parroted to her wife in astonishment towards her coworker and close friend. Both the women found the blatant flirting from Buck to the soon to be mother.

“She’ll take you up on the offer. She’s staying in our guest room. Come early for breakfast before you go. We’ll be having waffles.”

Buck found any excuse to visit the Grant-Nash home with the motive to hang out with you ever since the baby shower. From delivering baked goods from your favourite bakery to insisting on driving you to appointments. Didn’t matter if Athena or Bobby could take you; Buck was adamant he drove you.

The friendship was easy going and very natural, like a ball glove still moulded perfectly to your hand. The hangouts in your home evolved to weekly visits to restaurants with guidelines to the current event happening worldwide.

Ultimately it even led to a test date.

“You look breathtaking.” Buck breathlessly informed you once he’d gently pushed your chair closer to the table.

“Thank you.” You kindly responded despite thinking the complete opposite to the charming man sitting across from you.

Athena and May had helped you get ready for the date with calming words on how going on a date so far into the pregnancy was okay. Then, your father had tentatively inserted himself with sage advice on re-entering the dating scene.

“I thought we could grab some ice cream after,” Buck spoke up as soon as the waiter had taken your drink order. Buck had decided to refrain from alcohol and went with glasses of lemonade and water.

“You shouldn’t say that. I’ll just want ice cream.” You snickered, caressing the taut belly you’d grown to love. In fact, the firm push of a heel announced Poppy’s agreement with ice cream as dessert.

“How is Poppy?”

“The doc says she’s right on track. Healthy all around and in the position, she’s supposed to be at this stage.” Buck adored the affectionate smile that always appeared when the topic of your pregnancy was brought up.

“That’s amazing! Bobby gushes about you and Poppy. The fridge has an entire door dedicated to sonograms of Poppy. Even a few from that maternity shoot Hen and Maddie surprised you with.”

A few weeks had passed since the baby shower the 118 had surprised you with. Maddie had announced her pregnancy to the joy of the chosen family she had. Bobby had put together a crib he had painted. Michael, Athena’s ex-husband, had started making plans for adding on to the house for a room for the baby.

Despite informing the architect, you planned on moving out when you had saved enough, he’d made a sound argument. Athena would want a place for the baby to stay when you visited, or the woman demanded to babysit.

Now you found yourself in a National forest not far from Los Angeles, posing in front of nature. A surprise photoshoot Hen and Karen had organized with Karen’s brother Trey. Maddie and Athena had been the ones who drove you.

“Hold the teddy bear on your bump,” Trey informed you from behind his professional and intimidating camera. The photographer praised you in the rapid movement to listen to his offer.

“Hey! Maddie! You should take a few photos. I need a pee break.” You didn’t wait for Maddie to respond in your rush to the somewhat rustic bathroom hut.

By the time you returned, Maddie was taking a couple pictures. Then you took some with Athena to have on the nursery walls and for Bobby to have a photo for his desk.

“Now one with all three of you.”

Present

“So a daredevil.” You stated unsurprised that the firefighter had a history of recklessness. You don’t go into firefighting without a taste for danger.

“The bruises and blood fit better than the awful bleached hair during my time in Peru.” Buck laughed, recalling the questionable choice in his fashion pre-firefighting. Sometimes he missed the people he encountered in his period of self-discovery.

“You didn’t wear puka sh-”

“I did. Bleached hair, puka shells and Hawaiian shirts were my staples during my bartending years. I fit in with the aesthetic of the bar I tended.”

“Buck!” You nearly gasped at his raw honesty. Buck didn’t hold back any answers to your questions, but you each strayed from the topic of family.

Talking about the tragic family history wasn’t a good idea on the first time regardless of the time you’d known each other.

“You’re telling me-” Buck halted as soon as he caught the flash of discomfort flicker over your beautiful features, “Are you okay?”

“She shifted. Been sitting on my blad-” You cut yourself off with a hiss of pain. Buck’s eyes widened at the pain taking over your features, “Oh, that hurt.”

Buck went straight into work mode, “Have you been in pain for long?”

“No. A few cramps here and there today, but my doctor said it was nothing to worry about.” You informed the experienced first responder resting level to your knees.

Buck didn’t want to say it, but he was sure that you’d gone into early labour. There was no indication your water had broken, but he kept over the last hour together. Every once in a while, you shifted or pressed a hand to your bump.

“Has your water broken?”

You shook your head, “No, but...oh... that’s not a cramp.”

With that statement out, you clenched your fingers tight on the edge of the table as pain rippled in your belly. A contraction that stole your breath momentarily. In your contraction, Buck had dialled 911. Buck recalled that sometimes a woman’s water doesn't break until right before the birth.

“We’re not getting that ice cream, are we?” You snorted upon being lifted onto the gurney. How fortunate or unfortunate you were to have the 118 right there.

Hen had taken a position at your feet to check on your lower body while Chimney took your vital signs. You honestly didn’t like the look Hen and Chimney shared with Buck.

“What is it?”

“We’re gonna need to deliver here.” Hen sighed, giving you the facts that terrified you. When you envisioned having the baby, it was in a medical centre. Not in a restaurant.

“My office is large and away from the crowd if you want. I can show you the way.” Sophie, the restaurant manager, offered already starting to lead the way. Sophie would never know how thankful you felt for being able to have privacy.

“Okay, Y/N, is it okay if I check how dilated you -.” Hen breathed with her hand, gently disappearing until the thin blanket Chimney procured from the stocked ambulance, “Y/N when I saw I want you to do that.”

Hen didn’t need to check your dilation when she could see the baby’s head already.

“I’m right here.” Buck cooed in your ear. He had held your hand as his coworkers did their jobs around you.

“This isn’t the way I envisioned you seeing my pu-”

“Push.” Hen urged, cutting off your almost vulgar language, but it eased the tension in the small restaurant office. You couldn’t even see Buck’s flustered reaction as you bore down with the contraction, “Good! Take a breath.”

“You’re a strong woman. It never ceases to amaze me the strength women have.” Buck spoke, keeping your e/c eyes on his blue ones. His hand raised to push a strand of your sweaty hair off your temple.

“Once more push!” Hen called out just in time with the last contraction. The feeling of the pressure between your legs popping was moan inducing.

Poppy was silent. Your entire body froze, yearning for the sweet sound of crying instead of the eerie silence. The world stood still as Chimney worked on your baby girl.

“Pulse is strong,” Chimney announced, keeping his attention on the task of clearing Poppy’s throat and nose. And that sweet sound of crying commenced, “Congratulations Y/N, you have a beautiful baby girl. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Your father beat the ambulance to the nearest ER in pure anticipation at meeting his granddaughter Poppy Nash Gowan. He barely noticed as Buck stuck to your side like glue. Bobby waited outside the door as you got checked over in the room.

“Quite the first date.” You mused towards Buck, who hovered in awe over the life form you had carried for nine months. You’d been pregnant for three quarters of an entire year to his fascination.

“All my meaningful relationships started with a medical emergency.” Buck finally looked up at you. He’d kept Poppy company in the bassinet while you delivered the afterbirth upon entering the hospital.

“Seriously?”

“Had a tracheostomy on Valentine’s Day with Abby, an earthquake with Ali and a newscaster in a crashed helicopter.” Buck listed off. He hadn’t even noticed scooping the newborn into his arms until he’d sat in the chair by your bed, ��Why not add a sudden labour and delivery.”

“He would have liked you.”

The sentence came out of absolutely nowhere. Almost like something had ripped it out of your vocal cords. At the look of confusion, you elaborated.

“Lucas. He would have liked you. I think if it is possible, he might have pushed me into meeting you. I’ll still need to take it slow, but I’d like to give this a shot.”

That was all Buck needed to lean in closer to kiss you—the first of many kisses.

Some might disagree on how quick your relationship with Buck developed, but they didn’t know yours at all. It was natural with the firefighter who stepped into the role of father figure for a growing Poppy. By the time Poppy was one, you’d moved into a house not far from your father’s place with Buck. By the time Poppy was three, a pretty ring had sat on your finger. By five, the young girl had a baby brother.

“Your parents spoil Poppy.”

“You say that like you didn’t crawl into her crib during her afternoon naps.” You deadpanned towards your husband. Buck had the nerve to sheepishly grin, “You give in each time she says ‘pwetty pwease’ for a cookie.”

“It’s a crime to make her sad!” Buck defended himself, but a grin of amusement threatened his act, “Besides, you crack each time too!”

“Mhm. Just wait until Theo can talk.” You pressed a kiss to the sleeping infant strapped into the baby carrier. Theodore Robert Buckley could fall asleep in a thunderstorm if he was in Buck’s arms.

“Oh! Maddie wants to have Poppy over for a play date. Madster’s been begging for her cousin to have a sleepover.”

Maddie and Chimney’s daughter was only a few months younger than your daughter, but the two were thick as thieves. Buck had referred to the Han daughter as Madster with how similar her mannerisms were to her mother.

“Think they’d take the rascal?”

“Is this code for you wanting to have another?” Buck questioned with a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes. The same blue Theo had inherited along with a birthmark like Buck’s on his bicep.

“I-” You choked, blinking furiously, “Evan, I pushed Theo out of my body barely three months ago!”

Buck inconspicuously winked in response with the sudden scream of excitement coming from Poppy. The rambunctious five-year-old ploughed into Buck’s legs full force. Falling into the practised ease, you’d unstrapped Theo from Buck’s chest and promptly had his tiny body stolen into his grandpa’s arms.

“There’s my boy.” Bobby cooed to the sleep drunk tiny infant. The little baby is crowded by his Gram Athena and Aunt May, “Gonna have to get you a Minnesota Wilds jersey.”

“Hell no. That boy is LA born and bred. He’ll be wearing a Kings jersey like the civilized.” Michael announced with the sudden arrival of Theo and Poppy’s Uncle Harry.

“Mommy? When are we going to Stralia?” Poppy inquired from right beside your leg. Her tiny handheld is the giant one of her dad.

“In a few weeks. Are you excited to see the mommy’s old friends again?”

“Hm. Can we see Dada?”

Buck may be Poppy’s father, but he’d never let Poppy go without knowing she had two fathers in all. Her first one waiting to meet here decades from the time she was born and solely referenced Lucas as Dada. Buck was grateful for the man who brought Poppy into existence; the little green-eyed tot Buck could never regret. Unlike Buck’s parents keeping his older brother’s existence a secret, the firefighter refused to follow in their footsteps. He’d continue to shower the late Lucas in gratitude and respect. He refused to make the same mistakes as Phillip and Margaret Buckley.

“Of course. C’mon Poppy, time to say goodbye.” Buck guided the little girl to the extended family showering her little brother with love. The little girl was quickly swung into Bobby’s arms, and Athena cooing at your infant son.

Changes. The six-letter word doesn’t have to be terrifying. It can be breathtaking, memorable and beautiful to experience.

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starlightxsvt · 3 years

Text

3 dates | epilogue

pairing ➳ badboy!Seungcheol x female!reader

genre ➳ badboy au, romance, some fluff, angst, bad attempt at humour, gets spicy at the end.

word count ➳ 3.5k (total 15.6k)

warnings ➳ cursing, mentions of killing, mentions criminal activities, slight violence(non explicit), smoking, ma man Seungcheol ain't your typical badboy, blackmailing, reader does all sorts of risky things cuz she's a SIMP, blood(nothing explicit), kissing, marking, some breast worshipping, grinding, reader is horny lol. (Please lemme know if I forgot anything.)

a/n : here's the epilogue to 3 dates since tumb1r won't let me post the whole fic in one post :) Enjoy!

Part 1

As time progresses and days turn into weeks and then into months you are not left with the luxury to cry over Seungcheol. Instead you are bombarded with assignments and projects from your uni and you drown yourself completely in work to forget the scathing pain. Katelyn figured out something is wrong with you and even though talking about that man pains you too much, you told her that you are done with him and you won't be seeing him again in this lifetime. Katelyn did not ask any questions after that as you said you needed time to heal, time to forget even though you have serious doubts he'd ever leave your mind.

You have also applied for an internship to keep you even busier so that when you return home you are too tired to let the thoughts of him plague your mind as you drift off to sleep. And just like that, you have developed a routine, work, eat and sleep, trying your best to allow yourself to not think about him.

Despite that sometimes, some very few times, you think of him, wonder how he's doing, wonder if he's safe. You ponder if he thinks of you, if he regrets his decision but you don't have any answer. You simply hope he does.

After another day full of assignments and projects you almost doze off to sleep as soon as you hit your bed until you are intruded by the loud ringing of your phone. Annoyed, you reach for it, wondering who would be calling so late.

The caller ID has your heart doing a backflip, the name you were unable to delete from your heart and your phone flashing on the screen as you instantly sit up in your bed. It's Seungcheol.

Why is he calling so late?

You wait a few seconds, scared to pick up, scared that he might have called accidentally. But before you lose your chance, you inhale deeply and pick the call up. "Hello?" You speak, your voice tentative.The silence from the other end makes your heart fall and your suspicion come true. He called you accidentally and now he will realize it and hang up. You're about to speak again when his voice floats through.

"Hi."

The emotions you feel are overwhelming, undescribable. You're relieved, you're sad, you're excited, you want to cry and scream at the same time. That one word from him has you feeling tingles all over and makes you feel like you just did a hundred laps. Anyhow you manage to speak. "Hey." Your voice almost cracks and tears almost slip past your cheeks. You don't know why you are so emotional. "I just...I just wanted to hear your voice." He sounds so tired...so dejected and your heart breaks. Never in your life did you imagine him to call and say those words to you but instead of feeling happy, a current of melancholy hits you.

Why does he sound so broken?

"Seungcheol? Is...is everything alright?" Your voice is feather like, soft and careful. You hear him sigh loudly and you get your answer. Instead of replying to you, he asks, "How have you been?"

"I'm...fine," you lie. You have been nowhere near fine. He hums noncommittally and you're about to ask him the same question before you realize how dumb it would be. If his voice is any indication he is anything but fine. "____?" He calls your name softly. "Y-yes?" You whisper.

He stays silent, for so long that you think he hung up. "I- I just...can I see you?" He seems to have a hard time gathering his words.

What? You lurch out of bed pushing your covers aside in excitement, trying to prevent a gasp out of your lips. Did you even hear correctly? He wants to see you?

"Wha... what do you mean?" You mumble. You hear him sigh loudly, "I...I am in front of your apartment. Just come down for a minute." You don't need to hear any more words as you are dashing towards your front door in your pajamas, not disconnecting the call. You take the elevator and come out of the building as fast as possible, bumping into things in your way but not giving a care. You feet stops as you stand in front of the entrance to your building, eyes searching wildly for Seungcheol. "Stay there," his voice comes through the phone, just as you spot him standing on the opposite to your building, decently far but not far enough that you can't see.

A horrified gasp leaves your mouth as your eyes finally land on him.

He stands there, bruised, his beautiful face marred with scratches and wounds, his clothes having patches of dirt and if you are seeing correctly his left arm is bleeding as he holds the phone next to his ear with the other.

"Seungcheol-" you're about to rush towards him. "Don't move." He cuts you off, looking you in the eye. Even from afar you don't miss the dark, commanding gaze of him. "Just...just stay there. Just...let me look at you."

No- why is he doing this?

Tears slip down your cheeks, "Seungcheol-" You are interrupted once more, "Please. I- I missed you and...I needed to see you. Just let me hear your voice and look at you like this." His voice almost cracks and you can see the emotion in his eyes.

Your heart breaks.

Why does he keep doing this? Why does he keep pushing you away? Why does he torment himself like this?

You stand there, rooted to the ground, quiet sobs leaving your mouth. He comes here all bruised and wounded and expects you to stay away? How can you when you can clearly see him in pain?

You grip the phone tighter, watching him as he stands there, not moving an inch. His eyes never leaves you as he drinks you in, like this is the last time he's gonna look at you. You can't stand it anymore. Hanging up the phone you run towards him, as fast as your nimble legs can carry you. You can't stay away, you just can't. Not when he looks so hurt and lost and lonely.

Your body smashes against his as you wrap your arms tightly around his torso, your head buried in his chest. He stumbles back from the force and for a while he stays unmoved and you hold your breath, half expecting him to shove you away. But he doesn't. Instead he pulls you firmly against him resting your head on his chest while burying his face in your hair.

The tears come naturally. Loud, ungraceful sobs emerge from you as you cling to him like your life depends on it, your grip on him unyielding. Seungcheol softly pets your hair as your cries fill the silence of the cold night. You pull back just a little to look at his face and you want to once more. There's a cut above his brow and some bruises on his cheek and nose and another cut on his lower lip. But you can't bring yourself to care as you lean above to press your lips against his. You don't dare hold back, kissing him like the world is about to end. Seungcheol reciprocates, tilting your head for better access as his tongue prods into your mouth and you taste the metallic flavour of blood. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, an outpour of the bottled up feelings of the last couple months.

You both take a lungful of air when you pull back and you're about to dive in for more when you realize his arm is injured. "Wha- how did this happen?" You hiccup, wiping away your tears as you gently reach for his bleeding arm. His clothes are torn at the part of the wound and from what you can see, it looks like a knife injury, a thin, slanted cut on his upper arm as if someone slashed him. "It's nothing," he says trying to push your hand away.

"It's not nothing, Seungcheol!" You're yelling before you know it. It's the exasperation, the accumulated frustration over the days that makes you snap.

Seungcheol seems to be shocked at your outburst as he blinks at you, an astonished look on his face. He's kind enough to reply honestly this time. "Got into a fight. I was outnumbered. It's okay, it's nothing serious, I've had worse," his voice is small, almost timid which is definitely unlike him.

Of course he has had worse.

You let out a tired breath. "Come on, you're bleeding. Let me help you." You wrap a hand around his uninjured arm, tugging him towards your apartment.

"No, you don't have to-" he protests but you pin him down with a look. "Please," you speak, your voice low. "I can't let you go like this. Just let me clean your wound." Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line as if trying to prevent himself from speaking further. When no more words leave his mouth, you drag him into your building in silence.

Entering your unit you help Seungcheol sit down in your small living space as you quickly pad towards the bathroom for the first aid kit. When you return you find him looking around your place with a curious glow in his eyes similar to a child's. As your eyes meet, he sits up straighter and tries to remove his jacket. You aid him in the process, discarding the material on the floor as you take a seat next to him, the first aid kit in your lap.

Thankfully he's wearing a tank top as it gives you easy access to his biceps. You would have stopped to admire and ogle them if he wasn't hurt, which he is and you mentally smack yourself for having such thoughts right now. Seungcheol's eyes does not leave your face as he silently gazes at you and if you didn't know any better you would say he looked at you fondly.

Swallowing, you sanitize your hands before proceeding to clean his wound. Seungcheol tenses beside you, low, pained grunts leaving his lips a few times as you disinfect the cut. But he says nothing, letting you do the work and you don't speak either focused on the task at hand. You then do the same for his face and finish your work by wrapping a bandage around his bicep and sitting back, exhaling a satisfied sigh. Unintentionally your eyes connect to his and you find his scorching gaze on you, those mesmerising eyes almost piercing through your soul. Feeling self aware, you abruptly stand up, coughing to clear your throat. "You should take a shower. I have some extra clothes for my parents when they come over. My dad's clothes should fit you."

"No, it's alright. I should leave." He murmurs. "You're already here. Might as well take a shower. There's no rush," you say sternly, trying to make him agree.

Truth is you want him to stay, at least the night.

Seungcheol sits quietly for a while as if contemplating before surrendering with a sigh. "Okay." "Good. The bathroom's this way," you point towards the attached bath in your room and Seungcheol mutely follows. You offer him a towel and you dad's pajamas, hoping they'd do the job for tonight as he closes the door behind him.

As silence fill the apartment, you quietly return to your bed and sit, anxiously chewing on your lower lip. The digital clock beside your bed reads 2:50 am but your sleep is long gone.

Choi Seungcheol is here. In your house.

Will he spend the night? Or will he be his stubborn self and leave as soon as he is out? And if he does stay, will you see him in morning? Or will he be gone before the sun is up? The thoughts running rampant in your mind gives you a headache as you groan, rubbing your temples. You are sure Seungcheol feels something for you, he has to. Otherwise why would he come to you in the middle of the night? If only he told you his feelings, spilled his heart out to you rather than hiding and pushing you away. He just needs to bare himself to you, tell you what is in his heart. Why can't he do that? Why can't he just give the two of you a chance?

Your thoughts are interrupted as Seungcheol steps out the bathroom, half naked, the pajama pants hanging low on his hips as his muscled body is displayed in all its glory, making your throat dry. He looks at you before quickly looking away as an air awkwardness and tension fills the room. You hold your breath, watching him intently, not moving a single muscle as he tentatively takes a seat at the corner of your bed while wiping his wet hair with the towel hanging around his neck.

You want to tell him to stay the night, the words right on the tip of your tongue but you're terrified that it will just make him walk out here immediately. So instead you watch him with bated breath, waiting for his next move, waiting for him to say something, anything that will put an end to this deafening silence.

Seungcheol takes mercy on you.

"Thank you," he says, voice barely audible. You don't know what he's thanking you for you reply anyway. "Welcome. Though I don't know what you are thanking me for." Seungcheol remains silent for a few beats, his eyes focused on the floor before replying. "For everything. I have a lot to thank you for."

Okay.

You nod mutely, unable to figure out a reply. Another wave of silence settles in the atmosphere like a blanket. You take this time to appreciate his beautiful profile, engraving his features in your mind. The moonlight coming from your window falls on his face partially, illuminating his sculpted lineaments. You get to admire his beauty once more as he sits there but the look on his face tugs at your heartstrings. He looks troubled and in pain, the natural glow of his face somewhat dim. You wonder how the past couple of months have treated him. You wonder how life has been treating him, if he had someone to go to, someone to share his worries with all this time.

"Do you still like me?" His words make your eyes widen as it the last thing you expected to come from him. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't," your words come out harsher than you intended making you regret instantly. Perhaps the pain you have suffered for a while is coming out finally. However, seeing his silence, you reply once more, voice much softer this time, "Of course I still like you, Seungcheol. I have...I have never liked anyone or anything as much as you."

It's an understatement. What you feel for him is love but you would rather keep that to yourself.

"Why?" Seungcheol's voice comes out as a croak as his eyes connect to yours. For the first time, you see so much emotion in them and maybe, maybe even some unshed tears, though you can't be sure because the light is not sufficient right now. Your throat closes up for some reason as your eyes mirror the emotions in his and you desperately try to think, try to give him a reply that he deserves.

"You are very easy to like," you say lamely. Your reply is insufficient but that's all you can manage without starting to bawl like a child. A humourless laugh comes out of Seungcheol and echoes through the otherwise quiet room. "I doubt that," he says, his voice deep. "It's true Seungcheol," you repeat, voice firm.

A mirthless grin settles on his face and you know he isn't buying your words. Swallowing, you carefully, too carefully, scoot towards him and sit down, maintaining a little space between the the two of you. "I don't understand why you hold such negative thoughts about yourself but believe me Seungcheol, it's hard not to fall in love with you."

Your slip-up causes your eyes to widen, face drowning in embarrassment as you realize you just said the L word. Seungcheol, however, does not react to it but turns his head to study your face and the pain and sentiment in his eyes, his passionate gaze on you makes you forget human language. You've never seen nor imagined Seungcheol to be so full of ardor and pain and now that you have, you don't know what to do. You just want to cling to him and cry like a child.

"Can't you see how fucked up I am? What and awful person I am, ____? Someone like me deserves noth-" Unable to hold yourself back you interrupt him by cupping both of his cheeks and pressing your lips to his. You kiss him softly, carefully, trying to gauge his feelings while trying not to push him too hard. Seungcheol stays immobilised, letting you kiss him like that. When you pull back, his eyes are closed and he rests his forehead against yours. "You are just fine, Seungcheol. I like you just the way you are. Don't...beat yourself up like this, hmm?" Your voice is just above a whisper as you tilt his head to meet his eyes. Seungcheol stares quietly at you for a while before suddenly pushing you back and caging you underneath his large body. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping himself around you while attaching his lips to yours.

This time the kiss is not soft, it is full of passion and vigour and longing as Seungcheol takes the reign. Your lips mold perfectly against each other and Seungcheol does not hold back, kissing you like a starved man; all teeth and tongue. He pulls back for a while, supporting himself on his elbows as you looks at you while you try to catch your breath underneath him. His hand comes to stroke your hair gently, like a lover and your eyes burn at his tenderness.

"Seungcheol-"

"Is there still a place for me in your heart?" He asks, a hopeful note in his voice. His words leave you breathless as you gape at him in suprise, you mouth open slightly. Seungcheol looks at you look longingly as he waits for your answer, which comes easily, without a second thought.

"Of course, Seungcheol. I...I love you."

This time it is his turn to be surprised as his pupils dilate and a soft gasp of surprise escapes from him. Swallowing, you hold his gaze, waiting for his next words but they never come. Instead, the man attacks your lips with renewed fervour while slotting a muscular thigh between your legs. As his toned thigh brushes against your core a wanton moan leaves your mouth and you wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel Seungcheol smirk against your skin while he kisses a path down from jaw towards your neck, taking his sweet time to plant some love bites along the way while you gasp and writhe underneath him. Soon he reaches the valley of your breasts and with skilled fingers he does a quick work of the buttons of your night shirt. His heated gaze remains on your now bare breasts and you can feel your nipples harden in the chill air of the room before he leans down to plant soft kisses all over them. While he does so you continue to grind your core against his leg, desperate for some friction which he is denying you. His assault on your neck and breasts don't stop as he remains focused in marking you, blooming kisses of red and purple on your skin.

"I missed you," His voice comes out as throaty whisper while he keeps his lips attached to your heated skin. "Me too," you choke between moans as his ministrations on your body leaves you aching all over for him.

He pulls back to meet your gaze, "I want you. I... always have and I've been hiding it. But I can't anymore."

"Take me then, Seungcheol," It isn't the most romantic thing to say but that is all your lust clouded brain can manage as you keep grinding yourself against him. You feel his hard on poke your belly and unlike your lover, you really can't wait anymore. You need him now.

Seungcheol keeps looking at you, too busy studying your features rather than doing something about the wetness between your legs and you're about to tell him to do something when he speaks, "I love you, ____. I'm sorry for the hurt I've caused you. Let me make it up to you."

Great. Now you're horny and emotional.

His confession brings tears to your eyes but your neediness is growing so you pull his face down closer to yours and whisper, "You can start doing that by making me cum. And then you can stay. With me. Forever. How about that?" A mischievous grin kisses his face, "I'd love that sweetheart."

You grin in happiness not wasting anymore time as you reconnect your lips with his.

a/n 2: Whew~ a whopping 15k+! I can't believe I wrote something this huge. But it was well worth it! I just hate this damn app like I don't understand?? I've seen ppl post fics with 40k+ words yet tumb1r says I've reached 250 blocks like what?? Anyhow, I really really hope you enjoyed reading this baby cuz I've been working on it for soooo long! If you did please reblog and share as always your feedbacks are highly appreciated so please leave them in the comments or my ask box!

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen scoups #scoups smut #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt scenarios #seventeen au #svt seungcheol #choi seungcheol #kpop imagines

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ray-ray-writings · 4 years

Text

A Dedicated Pig-Technoblade

#3 and 47 from this prompt list! Check out my masterlist here! This is in the DreamSMP Au. I

This is a Technoblade x GN reader!

So in this AU I am making it so that your cannon lives are shown on your left wrist. And if someone types something in chat or if someone joins the server, it appears as text on your right arm until you dismiss it! If you are confused feel free to ask me any questions!

Part Two! Part Three! Part Four!

Y/N finally meets the one that everyone has been walking on eggshells over.

Y/N’s POV

I will never forget the gasps, murmurs, and then tense silence that followed the notification that everyone received on their right arm. Technoblade had joined the SMP. I didn’t understand why it was such a big deal though. Of course I had heard the stories. The horrors that he had done. The fights he picked and won. The amount of blood that had been shed at his hands had earned him the title of “The Blood God”. But when push comes to shove, he’s just another mortal man.

Everyone was a little freaked out and on edge because of the new addition to the server. I mean, Schlatt had just banished Techno’s family, his two brothers, from the nation that they created and fought for. Everyone knew that family was everything to Techno and if there was one thing Techno would do anything for it was his family. He would literally go to hell and back if it meant that his brothers and his father were safe.

Finally after a few minutes of everyone holding their breath, I scoffed, rolled my eyes, and went on with my work, cleaning up the election decorations. All eyes turned to me “Y/N” Niki hissed, “Do you not understand what just happened? He could be anywhere” I let out a joyless laugh as I looked at my best friend, “You really think he’s going to come here right away? With nothing on him? With his brothers on the run? You think he’s going to worry about coming here, where it would be a 1 vs…” My eyes scanned the crowd doing a quick mental count, “15 plus? Come on Niki, think with that big brain of yours.” I claimed, a little annoyed, as I took down a banner.

Niki let out a shaky sigh but nodded and continued helping me. “You’re right,” I chuckled at her response and bumped her shoulder, “You know I always am”. Soon, everyone went back to their own tasks, forgetting the news we all had just received. ‘See Mr. Pig Man Blood God’ I silently thought to myself, ‘You’re not as scary as you may think’.

*Time skip*

A week and a half had gone by since Technoblade had joined the server and no one had seen him. Like I had predicted, he immediately had searched and met up with his brothers and had stayed clear of the main part of the server. That being said, I should have known that he would rear his pink head at some point…

When I first joined the server, I had made myself a small farm for food. Well of course everyone found out about it and wanted a part of it. So my small farm grew and grew. When Niki built her bakery, she needed a steady supply of well… supplies. Sugar, wheat, eggs, milk, and all that. I had plenty and I was more than happy to give her what she needed in exchange for baked goods. So once a week I would haul boxes of supplies across the SMP from my farm to her bakery.

Everyone was aware of this and so on these days everyone would stay out of my way. Which is why I was so surprised to slam into someone while carrying a box of eggs to the bakery.

I let out a huge gasp as the sound of eggs cracking filled my ears as I slammed into someone. The box fell out of my hands as raw egg covered my hands and body. “What the hell!” I cried out, looking up to yell at whoever had just crashed into me. I was momentarily stunned. There in the flesh, right in front of me, stood the Blood God himself, Technoblade. My surprise didn’t last long as I remembered why I was angry in the first place.

“What the hell are you doing here? It’s bakery day, sure you didn’t know that, but you should have taken the hint not to be here when you didn’t see anyone walking this part of the Prime path!” I shouted at the pink haired man. Techno’s brown eyes widened as I verbally attacked him. “And now I’m covered in raw egg! This is not pleasant! It’s gross and sticky and cold and I do not enjoy it! You are sooooo lucky I have a change of clothes at the farm and that my chickens laid a lot of extra eggs this week or else you would have had to explain to dear sweet Niki why she wouldn’t be able to open her cute bakery this week.” I hissed out.

“I’m sorry,” Techno began with a raised eyebrow, “Do you not know who you’re talking to?” He questioned with a deep voice. I let out a loud scoff at the audacity of his question, “Of course I know who you are, Mr. Blood God,” I mocked. “So. You do know who I am and what I am capable of.” I scoffed at his smug words. “I said I did, didn’t I? And frankly I couldn’t care less about you and your reputation. You’re just a guy. A guy that has ruined my day because I now have egg all over me!” I complained, wiping my hands on my pants.

I reached down and began picking up the box and the eggs and egg shells that had fallen on the ground.“You know, I could kill you with no hesitation?” Techno claimed as he crouched down, moving his face close to mine. “I’ve done it before to many others. They blink and my sword has entered their chest. I’ve probably slaughtered more people than you’ve ever met in your life,” Techno mused, a smug smirk tugging on his lips.

I looked up from my box with a blank expression on my face, “Am I supposed to be scared of you? Is that supposed to scare me? Make me shake in my boots?” I questioned, my eyebrow raised. Techno’s smirk slowly slipped off his face. He quickly stood up and stared at me in shock, “Didn’t you hear me? I could kill you!” He explained. I rolled my eyes and also stood up. “So could another human. Literally anyone else. So could a fall from a huge height. So could a dedicated chicken. You’re not special.” I stated, turning on my heel and began walking back toward my farm.

“So you’re really not scared of me?” I heard Techno question as he began to jog to catch up to me. “Haven’t I made that clear? You may have scary stories and legends surrounding you, but when it comes right down to it, you’re a man. Well, part pig, part man, but a man and mortal all the same.” Techno let out a scoff, “Technoblade never dies,” he claimed. “But you could. You have three cannon lives just like the rest of us.” I concluded.

Techno silently followed me as I moved through the barn, replacing the eggs that had cracked when we collided. After I filled the box once more, I set it down before stepping into the bathroom I had built. “I’ll be right out. Don’t touch anything.” I commanded. Techno gave me a mock salute before looking around the barn once more. I closed the door and quickly cleaned up. I took off my egg covered clothes, washed my hands and body before putting on the clean clothes I kept here.

I found Techno where I left him. “You ready to go?” I questioned softly. His eyes trailed from my horses back to me as he gently nodded. I made my way back to the boxes before picking the egg box back up. “Is this going to?” Techno asked. I looked over and found him pointing at the last box needing to go to the bakery. “Yeah, but you don’t have to-” I was cut off by Techno picking up the box. “Let’s go” He said walking out the door. I let out a laugh before following him, being sure to close the door behind me.

The two of us made small talk about anything and everything on our way to the bakery. Techno told me all about Wilbur and Tommy’s constant squabbles and I told him all about everyone’s wariness ever since he joined the server. Techno helped me put everything away, which caused me to be done a lot sooner than I usually get done. The two of us left the bakery and made our way back outside. We began strolling the prime path and subconsciously came to a stop where the two of us met.

Our conversation died down and the two of us stood there for a moment, just staring at each other. I finally cleared my throat, “Thank you for helping me today. I really appreciate it.” I thanked, running a hand through my hair. Techno mirrored my actions with a shy smile on his face, “No problem. It’s the least I could do.” There was a slight pause before he spoke again, “Hey. Listen. I’m sorry for threatening you earlier. It’s just… Everyone I’ve ever met has been terrified of me and when you weren't… It really threw me for a loop. So… thanks. Thank you for giving me a chance.” I let out a giggle at his vulnerability, “It’s no problem…. Maybe when this is all over and you and your brothers are welcome back into L’Manberg, we could hang out more.” I offered. Techno gave me a soft smile and a gentle nod, “Yeah. I’d like that. A lot.”

“Techno!” A voice whisper shouted. The two of us jumped at the sudden interruption and turned to look at who had called the pink haired man’s name. It was Wilbur. “There you are! Where have you been?!” He questioned, marching up to the two of us. Techno made a gesture to me. Wilbur’s eyes shifted to me. I gave him a smile and a wave. “Hey Wilbur. It’s great to see you” Wilbur’s eyes softened as he gave me a smile, “Hey Y/N. It’s so good to see you too. We’ve got to go. Techno was supposed to be on a spy mission, but I see he got distracted…” I laughed at his words and nodded. “Something like that,” Techno claimed, rubbing the back of his head a blush.

“Well it was great to see you Wilbur. Tell Tommy I miss him and that I say to stop trying to decorate with things that aren’t his, yeah?” Wilbur gave me another soft smile and nod, “Will do Y/N. Tell Niki I miss her?” I returned his smile and nod. I then turned to Technoblade and gave him a smile as well, “It was lovely to meet you. I really hope this is over soon so I can show you my weapons collection.” Techno’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “It was amazing to meet you too Y/N. And I would love that. So much.” I giggled at his response and nodded. “I knew you would. Bye guys.” I gave them both one last smile before turning and headed back to my farm.

As I was leaving I overheard the next part of Techno and Wilbur’s conversation. “So… Y/N huh?” “Shut up.” “Who knows, when this thing is all over maybe you’ll get together and have pink haired, Y/E/C babies… Oh I would be the best uncle and-” “I’ll give you a five second headstart.” “Oh come on Techno-” “Five” “Please” “Four” “Tech-” “Three” “You know it’s-” “Two” “Oh come on” “One” “OH GOD! RUNNING!”

I let myself look over my shoulder at the two. Sure enough Wilbur was sprinting down the prime path as fast as he could, but Techno was right behind him. “Get over here!” Techno shouted after Wilbur. “NO!” I let myself giggle at the two’s antics. My eyes focused on the two for as long as I could, but soon enough the two were out of my view and my ear shot. Oh I can’t wait until this is all over.

There you go! I hope you enjoyed! And I hope I did the anon that requested this justice! If you did enjoy, be sure to leave a like! And maybe even a reblog or reply telling me what you liked about it! Until next time!

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bumbleklee · 3 years

Text

zhongli x reader x childe poly p2 - NSFW

(this is a part 1 to this but can be read on its own)

hey besties,,,,sorry this is so late,,,pls forgive me edit: this was supposed to be jealous nsfw,,,it is not,,,i sincerely apologize and will 100% write a jealous nsfw threesome for this specific anon within the next few weeks </3

before reading: nsfw!!! sex sex sex!!! minors dni or i’ll take away ur phone >:O reader is afab but gn! and referred to with they/them pronouns, vaginal and anal sex (yeahhh u know the vibes), fingering, body worship kinda, lots of smooches, 1.3k words

Your relationship with Zhongli and Childe progressed quickly and you found yourself on your knees more often than not. The men liked to use you as their personal vessel and while you knew they loved you and cared for you, you wondered if you were nothing more than their slave when it came to sex.

After a night of domestic drinking, Childe began kissing your neck like usual. His hands traveled down your side and curled around your waist. Zhongli was nearby, probably taking off his belt, and you sighed. When you weren’t giving Childe the reaction he wanted, he pulled away from the hickey he was leaving.

“What’s wrong?” He asked sweetly. Zhongli was on your other side now, absentmindedly playing with your fingers while listening intently.

You stared down at your lap as you spoke, “I...want you to touch me, too.”

The room filled with silence and you instantly regretted your words. You wish you could take them back and just suck your boyfriends off like usual. You expected Zhongli and Childe to laugh in your face but instead your face was lifted gently by Zhongli. Childe curled into your side again, pressing chaste kisses behind your earlobe.

“I suppose we’ve been quite greedy, haven’t we?” Zhongli asked, raising an eyebrow at Childe.

The redhead nodded, “We have. I think we should show Y/N how much they really mean to us.”

Zhongli pushed your shoulders back softly and you fell back onto the plush bed. He hovered over you, Childe still caressing your side, and his hands cupped your face. Childe moved around, sliding behind you and the headboard so you were laying on his lap. Zhongli continued to press his lips against yours roughly.

You swiped your tongue across Zhongli’s bottom lip before his mouth parted slightly and your tongues met. His hands roamed your body, sliding under your shirt and feeling the warmth of your skin. When the kiss finally broke, Zhongli pressed his forehead against yours for a moment.

“Just lean back and leave it all to us,” Childe whispered in your ear. Your clothes were removed by Zhongli and Childe returned to nipping at your neck. Zhongli was the softer lover but Childe was exciting, leaving bruises for everyone to see.

While Zhongli pressed kisses all over your body, Childe slid a hand between your legs. You let out a hushed moan and Childe grinned. His fingers idly rubbed around your pelvic before dipping down to brush against your clit. You bit your lip.

Zhongli’s head was traveling downward to meet Childe’s hands. Childe continued to stimulate your sensitive areas and it wasn’t long before Zhongli’s tongue replaced his fingers. You let out an audible gasp and Childe’s arms held you in place from jerking away. Childe ran his hands along your hips, rubbing sensually into your heating skin.

“More,” You mumbled, pressing your back against Childe’s chest. You felt Zhongli’s lips curl into a smirk and his tongue pressed harder into your sex. It rolled off of your clit and prodded your entrance, “It feels so good.”

Childe knew the look on your face was just amazing.

His hands gripped your jaw tightly yet gently and turned your head to the side. He pressed his lips against yours and you moaned against his mouth. When you broke apart, your breath was shaky and your lips were covered in spit.

“You know,” Childe started, his tone sultry and curious, “You have two holes for a reason.”

You kissed Childe again before nodding your head, “Fill me up.”

Your boyfriends touched you with careful fingers and Zhongli pulled away from your sex to push your legs farther apart. Despite being wary about having anal sex for the first time, you were relaxed. This meant the two pairs of fingers had no problem prodding your holes and sliding inside. The slight burn coming from your asshole was soon overpowered by the pleasantness from your first hole. Zhongli concentrated on your backhole, trying to be gentle and ease his fingers apart without causing you too much discomfort. On the other hand, Childe was ravaging your pussy. His fingers thrusted in and out of you quickly and you were gasping for air. Between both fingerings, you were brought to a hard orgasm. Childe pulls his dripping fingers out of you and holds them out to Zhongli who happily accepts them in his mouth. You watch as Zhongli laps your juices off Childe’s fingers with half-lidded eyes and decide you’re prepared enough.

“I’m ready,” You say with a shaky breath. You had never been this aroused before. The men sheathed themselves of their clothing finally.

“Can I?” Childe asked. He was stroking himself underneath you and when you told him yes, he entered your asshole in one quick movement. Pain scorched up your back and Zhongli slid his own cock into your first hole to try and alleviate the uncomfortableness. Both men paused, waiting for you.

You were incredibly full and it was hard to think clearly. After a few moments, you gave your boyfriends the okay to move. Like before, Zhongli was careful and slow and Childe was aggressive. The pain soon dispersed into pleasure and you were releasing small, melodic moans.

Your ass was tight and Childe was clenching his jaw, snapping his hips against yours. With his hand, he toyed with your clit to bring out even more of those pretty noises. Your legs twitched and you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes as you came for the second time that night. Zhongli groaned loudly, feeling you clench down around his cock tightly.

Finally, he started to pick up his pace.

You gasped and shuddered and practically begged your boyfriends to fuck you harder. Zhongli grabbed your left leg and hauled it upwards, allowing him and Childe to enter you deeper. Their cocks hit sensitive areas at the same time and you cried out.

There was nothing hotter than having both of your tall, handsome boyfriends ram their cocks into your holes. And judging by their lustful eyes, they felt the same way.

Childe wasn’t going to last much longer. His lips attached to your neck again, biting so hard he brought blood to the surface. Your moans sounded pornographic, lingered with “yes” and “oh god.”

Your name tumbled out of their mouths in low groans and you couldn’t help lolling your head back onto Childe’s shoulder in a wave of ecstasy.

Childe came first, releasing inside of you with a loud moan. The feeling of being filled with his hot cum pushed you over the edge and you orgasamed for the third time. Zhongli thrusted into you madly and when you clenched down on him again, he came too. They slid out of you and you shuddered at the feeling of loss.

Zhongli kissed you again, only this time it was sweet and meaningful. The three of you were a mess of sweat, cum and tears and Zhongli pulled away from you. “I’m going to run a bath,” He said effortlessly. You only nodded and collapsed against Childe, letting him wrap his arms around your still-quivering form.

He returned minutes later to collect you and you had never been more thankful for the jacuzzi-sized bathtub in the house. You rested in the warm water as Zhongli soaked a washcloth and wiped it down your body.

“We should have done that a lot sooner,” The redhead spoke. His voice had a tinge of sympathy in it. You nodded. You were exhausted. Your eyes were fluttering and you found solace against Childe’s chest again.

“I’m sorry we haven’t been paying you the attention you deserve,” Zhongli added, “Please, forgive us.”

You could only smile up at him, “I forgive you.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin self insert #genshin x reader #genshin spice #genshin zhongli #genshin childe #genshin tartagalia #zhongli #tartagila #childe #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #zhongli x reader x childe

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 4 years

Text

Two Peculiar Admirers | Shuntaro Chishiya, Suguru Niragi

PART 1 | PART 2

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Characters: Chishiya, Niragi (ft. Kuina)

Summary: Niragi finally finds some time alone with you, but of course, Chishiya is right on his tail.

Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, conflict, angst, mention of sexual assault

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: The ending is a little unrealistic because I wasn’t sure how else to conclude it. This is for you anon!

You and Chishiya slowly made your way down to the pool to spend the next few hours at with Kuina. On the way, Chishiya had to keep sniffing and wiping his nose to stop the blood dripping. It made you frown. There was no way just smacking his nose would make it bleed that much.

Chishiya soon asked you a question that was itching in the back of his mind. “So, you know Niragi huh?” he questioned, looking at you.

You looked back at him confused. “Huh?”

“I said so you know Niragi?”

“Oh,” you understood, turning your head ahead of you again. “Yeah, I know him. We aren’t close, but he seems to think we are.” You laughed at the statement, seeming to find it as a joke almost. But Chishiya was not laughing.

“Yeah, I know,” he said bluntly. “Look I know you may think he just has some harmless crush on you, but he honestly is a really evil person Y/N.”

Chishiya wasn’t sure what he was going to get out of telling you that. Was he generally worried for your safety around Niragi? Or did he just want you all to himself? He didn’t know his aim himself.

You furrowed your eyebrows. You didn’t like the way he was talking to you, like you were stupid or something.

“Chishiya, I know. I’m not an idiot,” you said, matter-of-factly.

Chishiya had a small moment of panic. He was afraid he had offended you. “Yeah, I know! That is not what I meant at all,” he recollected himself, waving his hands in front of him in worry.

You both then walked in silence the rest of the way down to the pool. It was rather awkward after that, making the air a bit tense. Chishiya wanted desperately to restart a conversation but he couldn’t think of anything to say.

When you arrived at the back entrance of the hotel that led out to the pool, as soon as the large glass doors opened your ears rang from the loud music. It was the same as every night, people drunkenly dancing and trying to make the best of their own lives while they lasted.

Chishiya quickly scanned the area. There was no way he’d be able to keep an eye out for Niragi in this kind of crowd. He thought it was best he just stayed close to you in case the insistent man decided to approach you.

He turned towards you to see you distracted by a few rowdy people by the pool. He reached out and carefully linked his arm with yours and pulled you towards him.

You turned around, surprised by the sudden bold move and looked up at Chishiya, but he didn’t meet eyes with you. You shrugged and just thought it was his attempt of flirting.

Chishiya dragged you around the area looking for Kuina. He kept you joined as his hip, sometimes accidentally pulling you a little too harshly by the arm and making you wince in pain. He was lowkey freaking you out. He’s never acted like this before.

When he found Kuina over on a small, secluded table near the wall, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t have to face Niragi alone now if he found him.

“Kuina!” you yelled out as you saw her too. She shifted her eyes and saw you and Chishiya, a smile painting itself across her attractive face. You pulled your arm out of Chishiya’s grip and ran over to her.

Chishiya watched and grinned happily at you two as you jumped into her arms for a big hug. He was glad to have you with him. At least when you were by his side, he can protect you from that homicidal prick.

You all sat down, sipping drinks that Kuina went and got from the bar for all of you. All three of you enjoyed yourselves and laughed at each other’s jokes and stories from life before the Borderlands. It felt nice to connect with your friends more emotionally.

You stood up after a while and turned to the two of them. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom,” you said. After drinking multiple margaritas, you were a bit dizzy and desperate for the toilet.

Chishiya stood up quickly. “I’m coming with you,” he said, already climbing out of his seat.

You shook your hands towards him. “No, no, no! Chishiya it’s fine! I can go by myself. Thanks anyway though.” You sent a cheeky wink his way and started walking away from the table.

Chishiya watched as you started getting further and further away from him. He began slightly panicking. He knew that if Niragi saw a chance to get you alone, he wouldn’t hesitate to take it.

Before he could even stand up again, Kuina grabbed his arm, making him turn his attention towards her. “Oi, what’s your deal tonight? You’ve been bouncing your leg under the table and fiddling with every little thing. The hell has got you so worried?” Kuina asked with a curious look on her face.

Chishiya glanced quickly back towards you to check you weren’t that far before turning back to Kuina. “I think Niragi’s been stalking Y/N. I’ve been keeping an eye out because I’m worried that he’ll snatch her the moment she’s alone,” he whispered to her.

Kuina’s eyes widened in shock. “Niragi’s after her?! For what?!” she whisper-yelled.

Chishiya shook his head in uncertainty. “I’m not too sure, but he seems to show a lot of interest in her,” he said, turning to see you making your way through the entrance to the hotel.

“I have to go.” He shot up out of his seat and tried to evade his way through the crowd that suddenly appeared near the entrance. His anxiety spiked as you left his sight, and he began panicking on the inside. He had to get to you before Niragi did.

But through his panic, he failed to notice the tall man follow you inside, closely behind with his usual rifle slung over his shoulder. He finally caught you alone, and he wasn’t going to waste the time he had.

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

You happily strolled down the few hallways to reach the lobby. There was a women’s bathroom nearby there that you could go to, so you slowly were making your way there.

You didn’t expect your path to be so abruptly interrupted by a sudden hand over your mouth. Your eyes widened and you instantly gripped the hand’s wrist, attempting to pull it off. You thrashed around violently and your heart pumped adrenaline through your body widely as the stranger locked their other arm around your waist, beginning to pull you backwards into a nearby room.

You kicked and bashed your body against them to try and break free, but nothing was working. This person was much taller and much stronger than you.

As you saw the door frames appear on either side of you, you reached out and gripped it as tight as you could, attempting to pull yourself out of their grasp urgently. You were panicking, screaming against the hand that was over your mouth to alert someone nearby, but no one would’ve been able to hear you.

Your stomach dropped as your attacker pulled harshly suddenly, almost breaking your fingers gripping desperately on the door frame from the force. They slipped from the wood and you fell backwards into the stranger’s chest. They quickly regained their balance from your fall and kicked the door shut with their foot.

You still had fight in you, giving them a painful jab to the ribcage with your elbow. They groaned in pain and their grip loosened on you, allowing you to take your chance and crawl away towards the closed door.

But they saw your plan and grabbed you by the ankle, pulling you back violently towards them causing you to almost faceplant onto the floorboards below you. They got to their feet quickly and jumped over you to the door, locking it in a rush then turning back to you.

As you regained your strength and kneeled back onto your heels to get away from, you noticed their familiar face. Of course, it was him.

“Niragi?! What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, stumbling to your feet and holding onto the wall for support.

“I thought you were someone else! What the hell was that for?!” you yelled at him.

Niragi dropped his rifle to the ground. How he managed to still have it on him after that you had no idea. But the look he was giving you now made you not care so much.

“I did that because I wanted to do this.”

Before you could even retort against his statement, Niragi rushed to you and pressed you harshly against the wall with his hands on your waist while pressing his lips against yours.

Your heart stopped. You didn’t know what to do. You stayed completely frozen in his arms as he began moving his mouth against yours, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. That’s when you came to terms with what was happening.

You pressed your hands against his chest and shoved. Niragi stumbled back with a smirk painted on his pierced face.

You couldn’t say anything. You were so in shock.

“Aw, have I left my little mouse speechless? It would be a first for you wouldn’t it sweetie?” he cooed, cradling your cheeks in his hands and lifting your head so you were looking directly into his eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, I just want to eat you up.” He pressed his lips against yours again, placing a gentle hand on your neck to turn your head sideways to make the kiss deeper.

You slowly closed your eyes and melted into his kiss, making him smirk against your lips. It felt strange. This man has done nothing but annoy you and stalk you the whole time you’ve been at The Beach, yet that moment felt so right.

You wrapped your arms around his upper back and balled his buttoned shirt into your fists as you leant closer to him, making him snake his arms around your waist to pull your closer, if that was even possible.

You pulled back from him after a couple of minutes, leaving a trail of saliva between your lips. You laughed and wiped your mouth before looking into his darkened eyes.

Niragi growled as he felt your hands slowly make their way under his shirt. “Are you sure you want to do this now?” he asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow to you.

“Isn’t that why you tackled me into this room with you?” you fired back, running your hands along his broad back.

Niragi chuckled and smirked. “I guess so.” He yet again crashed his lips onto yours, continuing where you left off.

Just as you felt him moving his hands lower on your body, the door handle suddenly jiggled violently from the other side, making you and Niragi jump in surprise. Someone was trying to get into the room.

“Y/N?! Are you in there?!” you heard them yell. It was Chishiya, you could recognize that voice anywhere.

You turned your head towards the door, thinking whether you should answer him or not. Niragi groaned in front of you, annoyed about being interrupted. “Just leave him, he’ll leave soon,” he said, leaning his head down and running his tongue along your neck to get your attention on him again.

You thought for a second before turning back to him again. “Okay.”

Before you knew it, the door suddenly erupted with a huge bang, making it shake violently. “What the fuck?!” Niragi yelled in surprise. He wasn’t expecting Chishiya to get so insistent so quickly.

“Y/N?! Y/N are you in there?! Answer me!” He sounded a bit desperate. He probably heard Niragi swear, making his suspicions rise.

You pushed on Niragi’s chest to get him to give you space to move. But he refused staying tightly pressed against you, almost covering your entire body with his.

You frowned up at him. “Niragi, please move!” you begged him, pushing against him with more force.

“Why? Why does it matter if Chishiya sees us?” he questioned you.

He had a point. Why did you care so much if Chishiya saw you? It should not matter to you, but why did it?

You took too long to think about what to do before the hinges of the door came loose from Chishiya’s barging. It gave way and he stumbled in, locking eyes with the scene before him.

There you stood, pressed up against the wall by Niragi with dark bites littering your neck. He felt sick from the sight.

Before you could even defend yourself or say anything, Chishiya barged his whole body towards Niragi, causing him to lose his footing from the impact and fall onto the ground, his temple narrowly missing the corner of the bed.

“How fucking dare you! You really think you can act all sleazy and creepy towards Y/N without me noticing?! As soon as she left the table, I knew something was bound to happen! And look where I found her! Forced up against a wall by you with fear all over her face! You really think I’m that fucking stupid Niragi?!” Chishiya spat out harsh words to Niragi over and over while you stood there awkwardly, trying to think of something to say.

After Chishiya had finished he turned around and had a worried expression. “Oh my god, Y/N are you okay? Where did he hurt you?” he asked in a panicky tone. He checked all over your body for any more bruise marks or any other injuries, worried that Niragi had harmed you.

“Um…” you said, not knowing what to say.

Chishiya stopped in his actions when he heard a sickening laugh behind him. He turned around to see Niragi throwing his head back and letting out the loudest and most psychotic laugh he had ever heard. Anger boiled in his blood.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” he said harshly.

Niragi regained his breath and pressed his hand against his chest, trying to calm his heartbeat. “Oh Chishiya, you’re so idiotic. Trust me, she wanted it,” he chuckled, climbing back to his feet.

Chishiya frowned at him. “What do you mean? Of course she didn’t.”

“Oh, then how do you explain her kissing me back? Or running her hands up and down my back? Or her moaning underneath my tongue on her neck?” Niragi licked his teeth like a dog to annoy Chishiya.

You knew that last part wasn’t true. Niragi was most likely telling fibs to push Chishiya’s buttons.

Chishiya turned back to you with a hurt expression. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. You were now feeling ashamed for even being attracted to the deluded man in the first place.

Your actions spoke louder than words as he understood what you meant. He looked down and shook his head before lifting his feet and walking towards the broken door briskly.

“Wait, no. Chishiya,” you said, grabbing his arm to stop him from leaving. He stopped and looked you in the eye with his empty orbs.

“I-I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, lowering your head in shame and loosening your hold on his arm.

“No, it’s fine Y/N. You don’t have to say anything,” he said in his usual careless tone. “I get it. I just think you could’ve told me that you weren’t interested in a nicer way than this.”

He ripped his arm out of your grasp and made his way out of the room. You felt your heart rate pick up as you watched him disappear around the corner. You couldn’t let him leave like that.

As you were just about to chase him out, you looked back to Niragi, who had watched the whole ordeal that just happened between you and Chishiya.

“So, you want to meet me at my room at one?” he asked in a suggestive tone.

You cringed at his words. “Go to hell,” you spat before following Chishiya to try and reason with him.

Niragi smirked at your words. “Ah, there she is. There’s the flame I fell in love with,” he mumbled to himself. He leant down and grabbed his rifle off the ground and slung it over his shoulders. “Maybe next time, when we don’t have any interruptions.”

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

“Chishiya!”

You jogged to keep up with his fast pace down the hall, making his way back to the pool to see Kuina again. He ignored your yelling, wanting to be far away from you at that moment.

“Chishiya can you please just listen to me!” you said desperately, grabbing his shoulder to turn him to you.

Chishiya suddenly whipped his head around to meet your saddened eyes. “For what Y/N?! Why are you following me?! Why don’t you go back to Niragi?! You seemed awfully comfortable with him when I found you!” he exclaimed. His yelling echoed down the hall, making it seem louder than it was.

You felt tears begin to make their way down your cheeks. You felt helpless in that moment.

You knew that Chishiya liked you more than a friend, but he had always remained such a gentleman to you. He never made you uncomfortable or overstepped your boundaries, so why did you kiss the man that had been stalking you? Who had been saying creepy comments towards you every day? For crying out loud he forced you into an empty room with him. Why did you kiss him when you already had such a lovely and attractive man right in front of you?

You couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed Chishiya by the collar of his hoodie with both hands and pulled him towards you, crashing your lips against his. He didn’t react at first, probably due to shock. But soon, he relaxed and placed his hand on the back of your head and another on your waist.

This felt right. Kissing Chishiya felt more loving and more compassionate than kissing Niragi. Why didn’t you kiss him first? It was honestly a stupid mistake.

You two stayed in the hallway for some time, moving your lips against one another’s passionately. Chishiya was the first to pull away.

He was angry at himself. He shouldn’t have enjoyed that after seeing you with Niragi. But at this point, he was so desperate for the smallest bit of love that he didn’t care.

“Why?” he asked, brushing a piece of hair out of your face gently. You looked into his eyes deeply and smiled sadly at the small specks of tears growing in his eye sockets.

“Because Chishiya, I didn’t realize what I had until I almost lost it,” you said, wiping your thumb underneath this eye to collect his tears before they escaped.

Chishiya kept a neutral face, not knowing how to respond. He was so happy that you liked him back, even if he had to go through a free trial of hell to find out.

He could feel more tears building up in his eyes, so he brought his lips back to yours to distract him from crying. He closed his eyes and let the waterfalls cascade down his face, some mixing with yours that remained on your cheeks.

You both stood in the hallway alone, no one around to interrupt or come between you. Chishiya cherished the moment while it lasted. If having you like this in his arms every day, pressed as close to you as possible both physically and emotionally, then he thought life would be worth living a little longer.

He could deal with a punch to the face from Niragi every now and then if he’s got you to look after him.

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