#Due to the spirit of fate??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewulf · 4 months

Text

Hidden Away || Rhysand

Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!

A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!

Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)

Word Count: 8.4k +

TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic

As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.

Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.

Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.

Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.

Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.

This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.

The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.

Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.

In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.

Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.

The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.

On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.

The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.

Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.

Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.

As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.

Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.

Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"

But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.

At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.

"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.

In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.

As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.

Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.

Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.

As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.

"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.

Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.

Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.

Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.

There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.

Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.

"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.

The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.

With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.

The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.

His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.

As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.

There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.

Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.

"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.

"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.

"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.

Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."

His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."

As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.

"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.

Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.

He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.

A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."

Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.

Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.

With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.

His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.

Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."

Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."

You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.

Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."

Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.

Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.

You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."

The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.

As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.

When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.

"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."

Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.

With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.

Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.

“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.

You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.

Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.

As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”

As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.

Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.

As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.

"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."

Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."

His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."

His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.

As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.

The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."

Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."

His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.

As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.

"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.

Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."

In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.

During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.

It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.

Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.

It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.

"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.

Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.

"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."

His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.

"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.

Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."

His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.

The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."

His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.

Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."

His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.

As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.

Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.

As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.

One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.

"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."

Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.

"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."

A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."

Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.

With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.

You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.

At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.

Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.

The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.

Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."

This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.

You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."

"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."

The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.

This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.

Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.

Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."

Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.

Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.

As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.

Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.

ACOTAR Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lilah-asteria

561 notes · View notes

pupyuj · 2 months

Text

→ “little things.” || ahn yujin x reader fic.

— being away from weeks too long from your girlfriend has led you into thinking all the horrible things about yourself that you thought you had shut down long ago, but of course yujin wouldn't let that slide...

word count: 6.3k.

dynamic: soft dom!ahn yujin x sub!reader.

warnings: hurt/comfort (emphasis on hurt...), angst, reader suffers a depressive episode, praises, reassurance, cunnilingus, fingering.

requested?: yes!

a/n: 2/4 requested fics done! we're almost there! i hope the anon that requested this months ago is still lurking around to read this, and i hope they're in a better place now as they told me that this request came to be because of their struggles ;~; anon, please know that you are loved by a lot of people no matter what you may think of yourself ❤️‍🩹 i hope you all will love this fic as much as i loved writing it 💞 definitely hit a little close to home 😆

your girlfriend loved you more than it was humanly possible to love another person, but you were somehow convinced that she didn’t.

because how could she? she’s ahn yujin—a top-class idol, a beloved entertainer widely known throughout the country and even the damn world! she’s the leader of one of south korea’s best girl groups in history, she’s so famous that her face is plastered all over billboards, ads, articles, posters, screens… ahn yujin was a real treasure. and you? a mere secretary in a moderately famous game company. it was the real workings of fate that made you and yujin meet right outside of your company building where you were crying at the bottom of the stairs that led to the entrance doors after receiving yet another senseless sermon from your boss. yujin just so happened to be walking her precious dog in the area and was kind enough to waste her time comforting a stranger.

though at the time, you hadn’t known it was yujin due to her being disguised as a random passerby. that was until she took off her hat, face mask, and colored hair extensions that you finally realized where you’d seen those cute dimples before—the tv screens. you didn’t make a big fuss out of being face to face with a literal golden celebrity, and yujin appreciated that a lot. so much so that she opted to stay with you on the concrete until she was able to lift your spirits. of course the two of you said your goodbyes, but both of you knew in your hearts that you would meet again someday.

and that proved to be true merely three weeks later; when all six members of ive, as well as their staff members, graced the conference room in a meeting for a collaboration with one of your company’s most popular games. you and yujin stared at each other with soft smiles and loudly-beating hearts—it was the start of a warm friendship, and an even warmer relationship when yujin finally got the guts to ask you out on a date after having been friends and colleagues for a year.

now, in your sixth year as a couple, you should be happier than ever. you’ve created the most euphoric of memories with yujin, shared the loveliest of promise rings, kissed the best of kisses, and you’ve even sworn to each other that when things calm down on yujin’s end then the two of you would settle in together, live in the same house, and eventually, if fate allows it so, get married. it all had been exciting, of course. you knew that yujin was the love of your life and that you would be the luckiest girl in the world to be her wife, but there has always been this tiny little voice in your mucked-up brain that is always telling you things you didn’t want to be true… and yet they might be.

that you might not be enough for yujin.

that you’re nothing but a problem to yujin.

that somebody else was better for yujin.

that you are not at all loved by yujin.

for a while, you blocked this voice out because not only did yujin make sure that you know that she loves you, she made you feel it. whether it was from her kisses, her touch, her thoughtful gifts, the meals she cooked for you, the late night drives she always takes you on every other friday, and even from the way she simply looked at you; you could feel every single drop of the love she held for you, and there was a lot. however, you hadn’t been able to shake the voice off for a while now and it didn’t help that you and yujin hadn’t seen each other for quite some time due to both of you being abnormally busy.

you always hated doubting yujin, but it wasn’t your fault. between the weeks you’ve been apart, the less-than-thirty-minutes calls on yujin’s breaks, and every text where yujin tells you that she can’t spend the night with you, it was easy to believe that she might be pulling away. something you hated even more than doubting your girlfriend is asking yourself the ‘what if?’ questions: “what if i’m bothering her?”, “what if i’m distracting her?”, “what if she’s come to hate me?”, “what if she met someone else?”, and the worst of it all, “what if she’s falling out of love?”

ridiculous and stupid to think about, let alone even entertain the thought. but that damn voice…

that damn voice has led you to barely eating breakfast before you left for work today. it led you to perform your tasks poorly at work, but you were lucky that your new boss (the old one, the asshole, was fired a few years ago for verbally abusing his employees) was understanding and kind and let it all slide. it led you to skipping lunch completely, making you work for nine hours straight with barely any breaks. it led you to collapsing on your bed after you’d gotten home, sobbing pathetically into your pillow when you realized that yujin hasn’t sent you a single text today at all.

shit, what if the voice was right?

you fell asleep in your bed crying that night, in your work clothes and all. you had a dreamless sleep, but it wasn’t the kind of dreamless that was comforting or funny in a way you could make fun of it for being nothing. it was the kind that weighed heavily in your heart when you woke up and didn’t see your girlfriend snoring right beside you. and not even in your dreams did you get a chance to see her. how cruel.

you could barely get yourself to stand up and make a small breakfast—you knew yujin wouldn’t like it if she caught you skipping your meals. and right after that, you dragged your feet in the bathroom and had the saddest shower of your life. at least you didn’t have to cry all that much in there. it was pure silence from your end, with only the sound of the water running and the faint noises of the television in your room accompanying you while you washed yourself. you couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a shower with your girlfriend, it was always one of your favorite things to do with her but only because you liked the way she would insist on washing your hair and how she would smile so brightly when you agreed.

ah, great. now you miss her even more.

you couldn’t bring yourself to do much after that shower. you bundled yourself up with blankets and stared blankly at the television, waiting until another day without yujin passes. much to your annoyance, time was moving a lot slower than usual. as if the universe wanted to shove it in your face that you’re spending all this time alone. you think your phone buzzed a few times, but you didn’t even have the energy to turn your head and look at it. instead, your mind wanders to the possibility that it was anyone but yujin that was trying to contact you, and that just made your heart waver.

you let yourself wallow in your own sadness in the darkness of your room, crying softly and quietly. maybe if you disappear underneath all of your pillows and blankets then yujin will finally forget about you. would she say “good riddance”? you hated that thought, but you wouldn’t blame yujin if that was how she felt. soon enough, you’ve completely lost your sense of time. your eyes hurt from crying, your head throbbed with so much pain that you wanted to get medicine just to get it to shut up but you couldn’t be bothered to move an inch from where you were, and your entire body aches from having been in the same position for hours.

you begged the earth to swallow you whole, but not before erasing the memory of your existence from everyone’s minds completely just to spare yujin the pain of losing someone she loves. loved.

it was getting hard to keep your eyes open, especially when all you’ve been doing was cry your heart out. despite everything, you were afraid of what your fragile mind would do once you wake up without yujin by your side again. she never even liked it when you got something as small as a papercut. you can’t imagine how she would react if…

god, what were you thinking? how did you get here? is this really going to be your life whenever yujin wasn’t around to help you keep your demons at bay? you are stronger than this. you know that better than anyone. better than what they all give you credit for. get up. you repeated those two words like a prayer in your head until your body cooperated with you—sitting up and leaning your back against the headboard. good job. you took that untouched glass of water from the night table and took one big sip. that’s even better. small steps for others, but very big for you. it was enough for you to decide to not allow your mind to wander and focus on something. you wouldn’t feel any better (it was never that quick), but at least you wouldn’t be thinking about such horrible things.

and when you started getting lost in the cooking show that was playing on the television, it was impossible for you to hear the door to your dingy apartment creak open.

ahn yujin was home. finally. she could drop to her knees and cry right at your adorable ‘welcome’ mat by the door. your scent was all over your apartment and it was enough to immediately relieve the young celebrity of all of her worries and stress. she had been hoping to find you scuttling about in your kitchen since you loved reading your cookbooks there and checking if you had the correct ingredients for a dish or dessert you want to whip up impulsively, and as soon as yujin spotted you, she would’ve jumped into your arms and kiss you until you were sick of her lips on your skin. she missed you so much and all she wanted to do was be with you and celebrate the collection of good news that she has for you… but even before seeing pretty much all the lights in your apartment turned off, yujin knew something was horribly wrong.

yujin had been busy the whole day. from filming for variety shows, brand photoshoots, and magazine interviews, she didn’t have much time to do anything else. she had all the energy for it though but not because she just so happened to love her job, but she also knew that after all of it was over, she could finally go home to the love of all her lives and do everything she has been wanting to do with her without interruptions. as soon as she changed out of her work clothes and got her makeup off, yujin texted you. she told you she missed you, asked you to get ready ahead of time because she was going to pick you up and take you out on a short drive around the city before sitting down for a romantic dinner with a breathtaking view of the sunset in her friend’s fancy restaurant.

but you never replied to her messages. you didn’t even see them. that was the first sign and truthfully, it was all yujin needed to know. yujin knew you wouldn’t be doing much today so surely you would have at least tried to look at her messages even if you were occupied with something. rather than getting pouty about it, yujin was instead really worried. what if you were angry with her because she hasn’t been with you for so long? she couldn’t imagine someone so mature like you would get mad at something she can’t control and you have been apart from each other like this before and there weren’t any problems then! but… maybe that was just what you made it look like so yujin wouldn’t have to lose her head thinking about your well-being.

which would be insane, by the way. yujin believes that she isn’t the smartest person alive, but she should know when the woman closest to her heart is having a hard time. she should… and somehow she managed to not. yujin stands frozen in the cold kitchen, realizing that all this time, you were probably just putting up a strong front for her. and every day she was gone, you were dealing with things she should’ve been helping you with instead of just leaving it all for until she comes back home to you. fuck.

panic rises in yujin when she doesn’t see the lights turned on in the vacant bedroom either. if you weren’t trying to cook or waiting for yujin in the living room while getting some reading done, you would be in that bedroom working. so now yujin knows that you were holed up in your bedroom, and that alone was enough to send her running all the way to the other side of your small apartment, ready to burst through your door… until she gets a hold of herself. she prayed to the gods that you were okay, and that you were unharmed. she could hear the faint, muffled sounds of your favorite cooking show inside but you weren’t laughing.

an eerily silent (y/n) was never a good sign. slowly, yujin turned the knob and opened the door. she finds her heart breaking in two when she sees you curled up in your bed. you were barely even watching the show. between the half empty glass of water in the night table, your dirty work clothes in disarray on the carpeted floor, your adorable and fluffy panda indoor slippers haphazardly shoved underneath your bed, and the fucking pitiful state that you were in, it didn’t take yujin a split second to even know that it was definitely one of those days for you… but so much worse than what she was used to seeing.

“(y/n), honey…?”

yujin doesn’t wait for a response. she sits on the small empty spot beside you as you weakly and slowly turn around to face her. you looked exhausted. your eyes were red, puffy, and half-lidded which yujin assumes were from crying. she hated that she hadn’t been with you throughout all of this, as in at all. when she was gone, she could barely message and call you and even when she got home, she would still be occupied with something work-related or she would be too exhausted to do anything else. she needed to make it up to you. she has to. starting now.

“i’m home,” yujin brushes your hair away from your face. she leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead, and she stays still for a few seconds to truly savor the moment of being back in your presence after such a long time. she felt safe, she was at peace. away from the cameras, the lights, and the fake smiles. now she has to return the favor. “i’m sorry i took so long…” yujin lays in bed with you, taking your figure into her arms and allowing you to melt into her after weeks too long. yujin fully expected you to cry and break down, and she truly would have just let you while pouring all of her love to you… but you were damn near silent.

there was no way you were angry. if you were, you wouldn’t even hug yujin nor would you let her come near you at all. you nestled your face comfortably on her chest, holding her like you don’t even want her to think of going anywhere else. not even a few minutes since yujin joined you and the two of you were already a mess of tangled limbs in your bed due to how close you held onto her—it was enough proof of just how much you missed her. if it hadn’t been for the fact that the television was on, yujin wouldn’t have been able to see the deep solemn look in your eyes as you looked up at her. the silence weighed heavily in the air; both of you had things to say to each other but there was so much that neither of you knew where to start.

however, now that she was in your arms, you had no problem just going back to hiding your face in the crook of her neck and just appreciating how you didn’t have to go even longer without her. yujin didn’t dare to complain, of course. whatever you thought you needed, she would happily give you and if silently cuddling was just that, then so be it. you stayed like that for a whole half hour, only occasionally raising your head to look at yujin as if not looking at her for too long would make her disappear suddenly. but no, yujin has been away from you for too long that at this point she doesn’t even want to leave your side ever again.

“i thought you’d forget about me.”

you spoke so suddenly and that yujin thought she must’ve imagined it. she feels you clutch her shirt tightly, and what she doesn’t know is that you were fighting back your tears. you wanted to celebrate having your girlfriend back, of course, but your sadness managed to beat your delight for once. this time, you couldn’t stop your fears from showing and as much as you didn’t want yujin to lose her head comforting you, you also just needed her to tell you that it was all going to be okay.

meanwhile, yujin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. she hoped that you wouldn’t take her silence the wrong way; she was only processing your question in her head to make sure that did hear it correctly. forget you?

“that’s impossible. why would i?” she was quite offended by the question, actually. but that was something she’ll make fun of another day.

“i thought that perhaps being around other successful, accomplished people could wake you up and make you see that… that i’m worthless compared to all of them,” you refused to meet yujin’s eyes as you spoke. you knew you would just break into tears and nothing would be solved. “that’s what everybody used to say… remember? during the first few months after our relationship got leaked to the public. a ‘normie’ dating ahn yujin… i was afraid you’d start to think that way too after being gone for so long.”

that indeed was quite the dark time. yujin fought tooth and nail to tell everyone that you were worthy of her and if anything, she was the lucky one in this relationship because you’re so perfect in her eyes. she got scolded by her management for being unprofessional when she got worked up on live television about it all but it was worth it making those rude entertainers shut up and avoid her gaze for the rest of filming. not one person dared to speak ill about you around yujin ever again after that, not even in online articles and gossip sites! especially after they saw how inexplicably happy she was to be with you.

yujin thought you could see that, too. she smiled the biggest when she was with you, laughed the loudest, and shined the brightest too. so hearing you say all of this… well, to say that yujin was in disbelief would be an understatement.

“(y/n)... you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. what more could i ask for than meeting and falling in love with the most amazing girl in the world?” yujin hoped that this would be enough to ease your worries enough that you could finally look her in the eye, but instead you let go of her and rolled to your other side—away from her. any other day those words would’ve been enough to make you smile and tease yujin for being such a cornball despite the seriousness of the situation… but today, you cried instead.

yujin, however, doesn’t miss a beat. she wraps her arms around your waist and kisses your shoulder, “i love you. no matter what you think—i love you.” she spoke every word with conviction. her tone strong enough for you to not only accept her words but absorb it in every fiber of your being. yujin holds you tightly as you cried in her arms, whispering words of affirmation here and there while also peppering your shoulders, neck, and ear with her soft kisses. she wouldn’t even care if this was what the two of you did for the rest of the day, just as long as she gets to see you smile and be yourself again.

for yujin, that was when you were the most beautiful—being happy and unapologetically you.

neither of you bothered to keep track of how long you were in that position, but you did eventually stop crying. the television kept on playing its shows, the sun had started to set outside your closed blinds, and yujin was finally starting to feel all the work she’d done in the day catch up to her body. she had assumed that you’ve fallen asleep with how quiet and still you’ve gotten… but then you finally faced her again. this time, you were staring right in her eyes. and as if this was the first time you’ve done it, yujin’s heart skips a beat.

“i missed you so much… i couldn’t spend another day without you.” you told her in a weak, raspy voice.

yujin smiles, “me too. i’m so happy i get to be here, finally...” she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. she takes her time to get familiar with your features once again, all while unknowingly leaning closer and closer to you. you close your eyes, waiting for what you have been needing for the longest time, until yujin gets a hold of her senses and finally puts her lips on yours. it might have been the softest kiss you’ve shared with her as yujin was careful with the way her lips moved against yours. but even a kiss as heavenly as this was enough to fill your heart with flowers… so when yujin slowly makes her way on top of you whilst her kisses get hungrier, your stomach was a storm of butterflies.

you started to unbutton her loose casual dress shirt, an act that mildly upset you since yujin looked so handsome in it… but she looked better with it off, and you needed to feel her skin on yours. once you’ve dropped the shirt on the floor beside your bed, your hands glide down yujin’s back with your heart beating erratically at the feeling of her muscles beneath your fingertips. yujin slots a knee in between your legs and thank goodness for that actually—the buzz in your core was not going to go away by itself, after all.

yujin’s lips were now on your neck, eager to leave a mark on every inch of your skin tht was visible while pressing her knee against your clothed pussy. you moaned, your pretty voice making yujin’s ears tingle and raising her excitement enough to slide a hand inside your shirt and cup your bare boob. you started to slowly grind against her knee, sighing blissfully at the feeling. you weren’t a big fan of… playing with yourself to satisfy your needs if yujin just so happened to be gone. her hands always knew you so much better than you did yourself. because not only did she know your heart, but she knew your body too. knew exactly which spots to hit, which part of your skin to suck on to get the most noises out of you, and how you like it all best.

when you moan again after yujin brushes a finger across your hardened nipple, she raises her head with fear in her irises. “t-this… probably isn’t the right time for this, isn’t it? god… i’m sorry, baby, i-i went overboard… i just wanted to kiss you but… i couldn’t resist touching you too…” yujin says with those adorable puppy eyes. always have to be such a gentlewoman, this one. it was one of your main reasons for falling in love with her as that aspect of her made her so much more charming in your eyes.

as soon as you feel her moving her hand away, you stop her. “this is the perfect time, hon. i missed you… and right now, all i want is your hands on me.” you trap her knee in between your legs and press harder against it, showing yujin just how much you wanted her to touch you.

yujin was still uncertain about it all, however. “a-are you sure? we don’t have to if you’re not feeling we—”

“yujin,” you said sternly. you took her face in your hands and kissed her nose, finally smiling at her. yujin feels her heart making a mess inside her ribcage. “believe me. i’m sure.” after six whole years of dating, you still manage to make it feel like she was falling in love at first sight all over again. you’ve both grown as people since your little meet-cute, of course, but to yujin, you will always be that beautiful girl on the steps of that dingy building with the prettiest pair of eyes yujin has ever seen. and so with your confirmation, yujin was no longer hesitant to grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head.

she was touching you in a way that reminded you of your first intimate night together all those years ago. nervous touches, and even more nervous kisses. even the way yujin was adamant to take things as slowly and steadily as possible was the same. you didn’t complain, though. as much as you wanted your girlfriend to get it going already, you also wanted to savor this moment and make the night last. judging by how yujin hasn’t told you any devastating news about her schedule staying busy yet, you figured that the two of you now have all the time in the world to be together… so hell, why not take your time?

yujin places her hands on your hips as she sits up, opting to stare at you and ogle at your perfect body for seconds too long. she was just as desperate to feel you as you were desperate for her to show you how much she missed you, but her disciplined hands kept her from doing anything too rash. it was adorable—how glaringly obvious it was that yujin just wanted to rip your clothes off and take you however she wants to, but being the sweetheart she is, she acts according to your wants and needs. she then went on to unbutton and unzip your jean shorts, but she doesn’t pull it off of you. she slides her hand underneath the waistband of your panties and moans at the feeling of your bare cunt on her fingers.

“mmhn… i missed touching you… you have no idea how many times i wanted to walk out of a set to go home to you, and listen to something so much more pleasant than a director telling me how to do my job,” yujin parts your lips with two of her fingers and uses a third to slowly feel up your slit. you were drenched already. obviously you’ve wanted this for such a long time that no one can blame you for getting wet so easily. “do you know what that is, darling?” yujin asks. she lowers herself to your chest and gives your nipple a scrutinizingly slow lick before catching it in her warm mouth.

you were too focused on the feeling to answer her question. your hand digs through yujin’s hair, gripping it and pushing her head closer while simultaneously grinding your hips faster on her hand. yujin dips two fingers inside of your pussy but stops there, opening her eyes and letting go of your nipple, “your voice. let me hear you.” she finally shoves both fingers inside your cunt, relishing in the way you arched your back and allowed your beautiful voice to invade her ears.

you were tight around her fingers, as always. it was just how yujin liked it. something about how her fingers can’t always move in and out smoothly because your walls loved to just suck her in always made her embarrassingly wet. her next favorite thing was watching you as she fucked you; your pretty face making all sorts of expressions at every thrust and every brush of her thumb against your clit just scratched the right parts in yujin’s brain. she can’t help but want more, and more she will certainly take. yujin feels horrible about not being there enough for you during such a hard time… she should’ve figured that leaving you alone with barely anything to distract you would’ve hurt you the way it did.

“i should’ve called more… i should’ve ignored all the risks of my manager nagging at me and visited you, even just for a short while…” yujin peppers your chest with kisses as her pace increases. you couldn’t even be bothered to say anything to her—not when you were overwhelmed with how good she filled you up with only two fingers. every time her palm slammed against your wrist with how hard she was fucking you now, all the embarrassing whines and moans you tried holding back were free to be heard… but it turns out that yujin loved it all so much so there was nothing to be shy about at all.

so you stopped being self-conscious about it all, allowing all of the sinful noises to come out of your mouth just as yujin liked it. while you were busy getting lost in the pleasure, yujin had lowered herself enough to be kissing your stomach. pure desire radiated from her dark eyes, and you didn’t even notice that she had pulled off both your shorts and panties from your body until you could feel her hot breath fanning against your pussy. she pulls her fingers out, but quickly replaces the void inside you with her tongue. she knew that you were the weakest when she used her mouth on you so she was quick to intertwine your fingers to keep you grounded and focused on all of the feelings she was giving you without being too overwhelmed by it all.

“ahh.. mmn… you must’ve missed this too, huh, baby?” yujin opens her eyes and looks up at you with a grin. you were already making quite the mess on her face, but really, that wasn’t entirely your fault. yujin liked it messy, and if she could, she would make you cum to the point of showering herself in your juices but she wanted to take it easy tonight. for you, of course. between you covering your face with your arm, your chest heaving up and down from you taking deep breaths, and your grip on yujin’s hand getting tighter by the second, it was all enough for yujin to keep doing what she does best.

she ate you out like it was her first and last time, too. humming and moaning in approval while she was either deep inside your walls with her tongue or as she sucked on your sensitive clit. the latter action made your legs shake and grab yujin’s hair, not caring about her seeing all the faces you were going to make the longer she went about using her tongue on the hard bud. she put one hand on your inner thigh and pushed it back, opening your legs up even more for an easier time and actually ending up digging her nails on your skin with how hard you were gripping her scalp. she liked the pain and you were going crazy over the pleasure she gave you; it was a win-win!

every time you whined her name, it only adds to yujin’s ever-growing need to give you the best orgasm you’ve had in a while. or even ever. “god… you’re so fucking pretty. i must’ve… heh.. saved the fucking planet in another life or something… or else it doesn’t make sense how i just so happened to meet a goddess in this lifetime…” yujin smiles at you as she says this, giggling at how you blushed wildly and looked away. yujin believed in her heart that you were the most beautiful girl she would ever meet in her life—you just happened to be too humble to accept the alleged ‘facts’ that your lovely girlfriend believed.

deciding that you probably can’t take anymore teasing, yujin presses her thumb on your clit and pushes her tongue back inside you. she proceeds on rubbing your clit harshly, wincing slightly as you were starting to hurt her with your nails on her scalp. the noises that you released gave yujin nothing short of ecstasy, only encouraging her to be better, go deeper, until you finally, finally let go of yourself on her tongue. delicious. yujin keeps her lips on your pussy as you cum, slurping up your juices as best as she can, yet never having enough to actually get herself to stop.

it was a few minutes after you’ve come down from your high and yujin was giving your exhausted cunt the tiniest of licks that she heard something new. something she hadn’t heard before when the two of you got intimate like this. she missed a few others as the sound of her sucking up your wetness with so much hunger and desperation toppled over literally every other noise, but yujin was sure that she didn’t mistake that noise when she did finally hear it. a soft, tiny sob… coming from you.

you’ve been crying, and yujin had been unaware. “oh, no… i’m so sorry, honey. i-i didn’t think—did i hurt you?” yujin immediately takes you in her arms, remembering that it was the place where you felt safest. she immediately regretted going overboard when she did. how could she forget that you weren’t in the right state of mind to entertain her gimmicks? fuck, she felt beyond heartbroken to be the cause of your tears right now when she was supposed to be the very person that made them go away.

“no… no, i’m okay,” you said in tears. once you looked at yujin whose cute face was all scrunched up with worry, you ended up laughing. yujin was so confused. “i promise. you didn’t hurt me, yujin-ah.” you squeezed her shoulder and giggled even more, making yujin laugh in return but in a more… nervous and uncertain way.

“w-wha… are you sure? why are you crying then?” yujin couldn’t help her smile and hug you, rocking you back and forth out of relief. how could yujin ever hurt you, anyway? you knew in your heart that she wasn’t capable of any of that, ever.

“i don’t know… but i’m alright, i swear.” you reached up and kissed her nose. giggles erupt from the two of you when yujin starts attacking your face with kisses—it was all part of her master plan to hear more of your laugh, of course. one of the biggest things she has been missing throughout the weeks she was away.

eventually, the two of you merely laid still on your bed in each other’s arms once again, staring blankly at the television. you’ve started to feel sleepy too since you did spend a lot of the day crying, and now yujin was threading your soft locks after she fucked you so good that you ended up crying! no wonder you were drowsy. you found yourself laying on top of your girlfriend’s chest, fighting back sleep by blinking it all away and opting to stare at yujin’s face instead. every time she asked you a question (“do you need water?”, “are you cold?”, “should we take a shower together?”) you replied with a lazy hum and weak shake of your head, neither accepting or denying whatever she offered you.

“you look tired, hon… you can take a nap. when you wake up, i’ll either have cooked you dinner or… um, i’ll have ordered our favorite take-out! how do you feel about japanese food tonight?” yujin asks. you hum again, but refuse to fully close your eyes. you opened them every few seconds, seemingly checking if yujin was still there every time you did. of course, yujin notices your intent and pinches your cheek. “i’ll be right here when you wake up. don’t worry.” yujin plants a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“mm… promise?” you pouted. gosh, you were far too cute for yujin’s weak heart.

“of course. we won’t have to worry about running out of time for a while.” yujin pulls a soft, thick blanket over your body and smiles as you immediately start drifting off. she kisses your forehead again, feeling a sudden surge of pure love washing over her as the feeling of having you sleep in her arms again was… home. yujin’s smile widened when she remembered just what she intended to surprise you with if you had seen her message and went with her to that romantic dinner with the sunset.

it was a surprise that she would have to wait another day to unveil—a surprise that came in the form of a breathtaking diamond ring that would’ve completed the beautiful picture that is your love story.

342 notes · View notes

thebadboyfanclub · 2 years

Text

You Bled For Them, You Decide Pt.1 (Daemon x Reader)

Once again this was challenging but so fun to write, I hope you guys like as well. Enjoy!

Daemon Targaryen or else known as “the rogue prince” had inherited the free spirit of his mother, for years he traveled as he lusted over two things, war and women. He loved his life and new found freedom after the… sudden death of his lady wife Rhea. The night after Rhaenyras wedding he fled and in a spur of the moment finding refugee in Pentos, the prince of pentos welcomed him with open arms as soon as Daemon landed with Caraxes and even threw a celebration in his honour.

That’s where he met her, (y/n). She was the daughter of a gemstone and dragonbone merchant, she stood next to her father when Daemon first laid eyes on her, her hair dark and long, her (y/e/c) eyes pierced with through his heart and made him feel like he was thrown to the flames, she held the moon and stars in those hues of hers, her lips tempting him as she bit them, her body was barely covered by a dress, it was normal for the women to dress with light materials due to the heat of the city, it did wonders for Daemons imagination. As the breeze went through her the herbal scent hit him like a brick. She was sent by the Gods for him

“It was like fate had struck me”

He would often say. It wasn’t long until he married her, her father was delighted when he saw Daemon Targaryen asking for his daughters hand. (Y/n) had prayed for their union right after that night, she could sense that this was the man for her, the man that would stand by her side until the end of their days.

Daemon spend his days and nights in her arms, the only thing that dragged him out of the bed was his dragon, other than that he spend it pleasuring his wife. Oh what a sight she was when she trembled under his touch, he held her tightly as he took her through the roads of pleasure, the servants would blush and ran away as they would couple wherever and whenever, the study room, the gardens, the bath, even up in the air while Daemon road his dragon, (y/n) rode Daemon.

It wasn’t long until (y/n) was with child, Princess Alyssa was first, (y/n) gave birth by herself in the garden with the help of her husband under a full moon, she did not trust the maesters. Not long after that came the triplets, prince Aevor, princess Eraessa and princess Aerella that were born by the help of their father in their bath on a cold rainy day, (y/n) always felt at home when surrounded by water. On the triplets first nameday (y/n) gave birth to prince Victor, unfortunately (y/n) laid ill with fever for two morrows after that birth, Daemon never left her side since he feared that he would suffer the fate of his father and brother, of course a little while after (y/n) was surrounded by her children and husband as she pushed out a daughter Johanna.

“We have been summoned”

“For what my love?”

“Laenas funeral, she died during childbirth, she commanded her dragon to set her on fire”

(Y/n) rubbed on her growing belly at the news, she had never met Daemons family yet her heart ached for the woman, every woman had feared of childbirth, all of them were willing to take the risk for their kins still their hearts skipped a beat when the labour pains began.

Daemon saw the pain in his lady wives eyes, he took her hands to place kisses on her knuckles as a way to comfort her, they didn’t have to speak about it, the eyes said everything that needed to be spoken.

“Do you want to go?”

“My brother pleaded, he wishes to be introduced to our children”

“I did not ask about your brother, I asked what do you want”

Daemon was thankful for his wife for countless reasons, one of them was her patience with him and the way she made him feel important, all his life he spend yelling to be heard and now he had someone that he could whisper to. Daemon kissed his wife on the lips softly as a way to say thank you to her, he was never good with words so physical touch was his way of showing gratitude.

“We shall leave on the morrow”

(Y/n) rode on her husbands dragon as she held on to him tightly, she could see why Daemon and her children loved riding so much, the peaceful feeling mixed with the power it brings, it was addicting to say the least.

After the family landed the first one to touch ground was Daemon who was careful enough to assist (y/n) by holding her waist until her feet are steady, (y/n) rushed to the eldest daughter Alyssa whom was holding little Johanna, her hatchling was way too small and she was far too young to ride, Alyssa had volunteered as to being the one to hold her sister for the ride.

(y/n) took the babe in her arms and she quite envied how it was the only one that was dressed in white clothing, (y/n) had to prepare an all black dress in just a few hours which had been a struggle given the fact that her babe was due any minute now.

“How was she?”

“I believe she slept the entire way, she seemed to stir awake as we were landing”

Alyssa always felt the responsibility for her siblings, her parents had embedded in her brain “family sticks together” that they would repeat almost every day. (Y/n) turned back to her husband with their daughter on her hip, Daemon was already greeted by his brother, king Viserys.

(Y/n)s courage seemed to waver for a moment as she did not make a step to approach the two brothers, they had never been introduced since the couple had eloped in pentos and resided there for their entirety of their wedding.

“(Y/n)”

Daemon spoke softly, his hand reaching out for her. (Y/n) pushed every bad thought aside and made her way to her husbands side with their daughter, as she stopped king Viserys smiled brightly, his eyes immediately focusing on the little girl.

“Gods be good, how old?”

“She is almost two, her name is johanna after my mother”

“Beautiful, congratulations brother you have been blessed with a wonderful family. May I hold her?”

“Of course… your grace”

(Y/n) did not quite know how to address him, alas she passed Johanna to king Viserys who beamed with joy as he held her. Johanna was not a difficult child nor did she cry a lot, she seemed quite comfortable in her uncles arms.

“My apologies I completely ignored your lady wife and we have never been introduced. What is your name?”

“I am (y/n)… your grace”

She introduced herself as she took a small curtsy, well as low as her condition allowed to do so without falling down. technically pentos was a free country yet the soul of the ground she was now stepping on was under the Targaryen legacy so it was almost obligating. King Viserys laughed lightly at (y/n)s uneasiness, at first he was furious at his brother running off to marry a nobody, as the years passed and caught wind of how Daemon was content with his family and had brought so many children with the woman, his heart soften.

“You needn’t bow dear, we are family. I have heard tales about your choice in the matter of giving birth”

“My mother gave birth to twelve children, she always said how nobody knows better than the woman”

“Your mother was fearless but some assistance would never hurt”

“If my time comes while I give birth to my children then there is nothing a… man can do, it is something above our powers and so far I have been victorious”

“I assume there is no greater force than the force of a mother. Let us join the others, it is almost time for the ceremony”

In pentos they spoke bastard Valyrian so (y/n) could somewhat understand what the man was saying as he send his niece away to the afterlife. (Y/n) clung on to her husband for comfort as the ceremony brought her worry and sadness, being surrounded by unfamiliar faces that grieved in a ceremony of a woman she never met brought a certain discomfort to (y/n).

Daemon gave his wife’s hand a squeeze as he leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head, Daemon feared for her life every time she was to give birth, he was never a religious man yet internally he would pray to the old and new gods for a safe delivery.

“Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore. Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.”

Before (y/n) could comprehend what was said and the reason behind those sly remarks when the man gazed at a woman who had her arms wrapped around two boys the ceremony was interrupted by a baby crying in the near distance, her ears perked up at the sound of her youngest daughter wails. Alyssa tried to shush the babe to no avail, the child was begging for it’s mother, (y/n) fleeted her husbands side to soothe her baby and to also make it stop crying while the ceremony is taking place.

“I’m sorry mother”

“It’s alright Alyssa, Johanna is probably hungry, aren’t you my little sunshine?”

The babe settled as (y/n) rocked Johanna in her arms, she did not try to go back in her place, they had already brought enough attention to them for now, she remained close to her children who all surrounded her, it was quite the scene as 5 children build a wall around a woman that looked nothing like them.

Alyssa had her grandmothers eyes, one was violet and the other green, the triplets had silver white hair but all had different colour eyes, prince Aevor was a spitting image of his father, princess Eraessa had green eyes and Aerellahad violet, Victor had inherited his grandfathers black colour and Johanna seemed to match her sister with violet eyes and a few strands of black hair intertwined with her silver hair.

All of them looked like Targaryens which had caused a stir in everyone’s hearts along with judgement, there she was a woman that had no correlation to the Targaryen bloodline or any type of royal bloodline yet her children looked like what true born heirs should be.

“How is moon and my stars?”

Daemon would call his family that at the explanation of the moon and the stars were the only way you could find home while sailing or riding dragons. Daemon cradled his youngest daughter in his arms to ease the weight his wife was carrying, she was already burdened with a child in her guts she mustn’t hold another.

“Father can we go explore please?”

“Of course, Alyssa please escort your siblings, make sure they are safe”

“Of course father”

As the kids scurried away little Johanna was the only one that remained, she was too young to go with the others. (Y/n) turned to her husband with a disapproving look

“Alyssa is a child my love we mustn’t put such responsibility on her”

“She is our first born and she is perfectly capable of protecting her siblings, you coddle her”

“Would that be so bad? To keep my child safe and allow her to enjoy her adolescence?”

“Alyssa looks like our mother, she always spoke of how we could never get rid of her and it is only natural that she chose you to make her way back to us”

Daemons brother interrupted the quarrel as he approached them, a blonde haired woman who (y/n) assumed was close or maybe a year younger next to him, she was the one that the man was staring at when he spoke. What made (y/n) question the woman’s approach was how she took in her husband, it reminded (y/n) of a hawk inspecting its prey.

Daemon was amazed when he first took in Alyssa’s appearance, it was only fair that the babe got his mothers name, under the light of the full moon he swore to sacrifice everyone to keep his family safe.

“Mothers spirit could not be stopped by death, sometimes when she gets frustrated I swear it is our mother hiding behind my daughters eyes”

“Alyssa might have your mothers name but she is her own person and she will write her own story. Such expectations are a heavy burden for a young girl”

(Y/n) interrupted, she understood her husbands love and devotion to their family still she was also a mother and she wanted her child to have a quiet and happy life, to live without a target on her back, Daemon was driven by ambition, (y/n) was driven by compassion.

Viserys smiled fondly at the young woman, he detected the powerful urge of the mother spreading her wings to protect her young ones. The woman on his side kept looking at Daemon, (y/n) doubted that she even heard any part of the conversation, she also could feel that the woman was waiting to be greeted or for her presence to be acknowledged.

Daemon brought his wife closer to him by a gentle grip on her waist, sometimes he would forget that his wife had a backbone of her own and was not easily persuaded when it came to such delicate matters, he had fought wars and seen the worst in people, still he took a step back when it came to his wife. Their dynamic worked only if both of them made the effort, Daemon was the protector when it came to the outside but indoors (y/n) had the final decision.

“You bled for them, you decide”

Daemon had once muttered to her, it was a sign of respect from him, he was forever in her debt for the continuation of her sacrifices to expand their family.

“If I didn’t know any better I would say your wife has dragons blood in her dear uncle”

“Pentos is a free country my lady, we have fought for our freedom, allow me to say we have our own fire that burns bright”

“(Y/n) this is my daughter Rhaenyra, my heir”

“Pleasure to meet you princess”

“Likewise, is this your child?”

“One of them yes, her name is Johanna, I believe the entire trip and ceremony tired her out”

(Y/n) cooed at her baby girl as she petted the girls silver hair, Johanna had leaned into her fathers shoulder with her eyes half closed, poor thing was fighting against slumber.

Rhaenyra felt a pain in her heart as she looked at the couple, Daemon had never been so gentle with Rhaenyra or anyone for that matter, now he didn’t even spare a glimpse in her direction as he was occupied with gazing lovingly at his wife, she felt jealousy boil in her heart thinking she was supposed to be the one in (y/n)s place.

“One of them?”

“Yes, the gods have been quite generous, we have 6 children now”

“Such… great news”

She mumbled. Rhaenyra was stunned, 6 children. Daemon had never discussed the matter of children in the past, now he fathered 6 kids and another one was on the way. Rhaenyra felt the ground disappear beneath her feet as her heart beat so fast she could swear that it was going to come out from her throat.

“Excuse me”

Rhaenyra managed to grumbled as she stumbled away from the couple, she could not believe what she had witness. Rhaenyra did her best to keep her composure until she was out of sight, not only has her first love moved on and has a happy family -something that she was robbed from- he had now unintentionally blown her cover and paraded his Targaryen featured children for everyone.

Part two

Requests are open!

4K notes · View notes

melbee · 2 years

Text

The Ikranä Maktoyu (‘banshee rider’)

Pairing: Neteyam x TayrangiClan!Reader

Summary: There was nothing you thought you couldn’t do. So, when the eldest son of Toruk Makto challenges you to a race on your Ikran? Well, you never were one to run from an honest challenge. Especially when you had the fate of your feelings riding on the line.

Note: This is my first Fanfiction for Avatar and specifically WoW. This doesn't follow any sort of plot, so it's not technically necessary to have watched the new movie. Anyways I hope you enjoy xx

Warnings: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers (kind of?), Blood. Kissing? idk. This is a long one. I like to give my fanfics context, ok?? lol

Word count: 4,203

As far as you were concerned you couldn't be any different from the similar blue skinned Navi in front of you. While you were used to more complicated headdresses, and guarded expressions, these Forest children of the Omaticaya clan, wore little and expressed much. Several Tayrangi Clan members and you had journeyed vast from the Eastern Sea to meet with the Omaticaya people and its fairly new leader, Jake Sully.

Your mother had brought you up on the story of Jake Sully's arrival, on how the Toruk Makto had led all the clans together in harmony in order to rid your home planet of the humans who were intent on destroying it. Everything about Omaticaya had fascinated you, but as you grew so did your responsibilities, and now you reserve your emotions to plain passiveness.

This was mostly due to the fact that the people were so much different from your own. Tayrangi had long been separated and socially outcasted due to their spirited independence, and the Omaticaya people had once despised it. However, times had changed, and as your mother fondly admitted to yourself, new beginnings can bring new outlooks.

So, there you sat, trying to hold in any regard of the Omaticaya children in front of you, who had been introduced upon arrival as the Olo'ekytan's children. The youngest and giddiest, Tuktirey, smiled brightly at you as if she noticed your presence for the first time since you had been there.

"Come play with us, y/n! We were just about to go out into the forest." Tuktirey laughed, as she tugged on her elder sister's hand. Kiri looked up at you with a shy smile, and for some reason it made your heart warm.

They were very sweet children, most of them at least. Upon your clan's arrival to the forest, you were bombarded by the sounds of Ikrans all around you. While you were mostly familiar with the sound, the laughter and rambunctious noise as they swooped across the trees startled your clan. Who was behind the wonderful greeting? None other than the eldest of Jake Sully's children, who you were introduced to through a flurry of apologies as Lo'ak and Neteyam.

Each bore a startling resemblance to their kinfolk, and by closer inspection you saw the youngest of the brothers resembled the same five fingered trait as his father. He was the most feigned of the two, which made you suspect this wasn't his first time having to apologize. Neteyam was sincere in his apologies at the least, the perfect mockup as the prodigal son, burdened since birth you could tell.

However, something about Neteyam made your heart race just a little faster. Perhaps it was the way he laughed, and his broad shoulders lifted up ever so slightly. Or maybe it was the way he looked into your eyes, and you felt the weight of the world fall endlessly at your fingertips. Either way, you made sure you kept your feelings in check. You had goals in life, and you wouldn't let some skxwang (idiot, moron) mess it up.

"I was hoping to head near the top of the mountains. It's actually really beautiful to see near sunset." Kiri voiced out, the sound startling you out of your memories, as she looked back to see Tuktirey jumping for joy.

"Mom never lets us go out there before dinner, but maybe she'll let us since you're here!" Tuktirey laughed as she began to beckon us to follow her.

"We can go, but we've got to wait for Spider. He should be here any minute." Kiri rolled her eyes, before glancing back in apology for her sister's rambunctious nature.

"You called?" You heard a male voice call out from behind you, your body jumping in fear. You were used to the rocky shores of your homeland providing you a sense of hearing, but now that you were hidden between the sounds of the forest, you couldn't quite gather your surroundings.

"Spider! There you are, where were you?" Kiri exclaimed, as you watched to see the human jump from a fallen tree limb, as he laughed underneath his mask.

When you had first taken a glimpse of a human on Pandora, it had not been under good circumstances. It was as the RDA had begun to shuffle their way out, but the memories from your older clan members had done enough to make you hold reservations against them. Even though you had been told of Spider's upbringing, you couldn't help but feel as if his alliance did not stand completely still against one side.

Spider glanced your way, a careful nod towards you, before pulling on Kiri's tail in playfulness. Kiri hissed as she smacked him away, him dodging her advances. Before you knew it, they were in their own little world arguing about something leaving Tuktirey to sigh in impatience.

"Guys can you stop! We have to get going!" Tuk complained. Kiri looked up as she glanced your way in apology. She beckoned Spider to follow us, as we began heading through the thick jungle.

You watched in hesitance as the Sully clan leaped and bounded across tree limbs and small streams. Syaksuk (lemurs) danced across the forest vines, their playful voices echoing around as they swung. Every so often Tuk would stop, playing with some sort of creature or fauna before Kiri or yourself would have to get her away from the distractions.

The trek was long, but it resembled your own passages on top of jagged rocks, trying to avoid falling. You laughed as you tried to keep up with the Omaticaya children, your passive disposition beginning to fade away. You actually felt really happy.

At this point in the day the light in the sky was beginning its descent, and you had just reached a parting in the densely bushed trees. Pushing forward, you followed Kiri and the rest stopped at what you could tell was an overlook. Pushing back a stray vine, your eyes widened before looking up.

There it was. Out of everything you had heard of the Omaticaya clan growing up, Ayram Alusing (The floating mountains) was the most magical. Your arrival to the clan had been up these very floating rocks. You could almost see the activity where the clan resided near the Tree of Souls.

"Mons Veritatis." You heard Spider whisper in awe, your gaze settling to where he looked to see one of the tallest mountains you had ever seen. Its top didn't even reach vision, the dense vog settling eerily to the distant calls of the Ikrans.

It made your heart thump in excitement at riding your Ikran across the sky.

"Iknimaya. It is our rite of passage to ride our Ikrans. You do the same right?" Kiri looked over at you, noticing your excitement with a smile.

"Yes, although I'm not sure which is more dangerous." You laughed as Kiri giggled, latching onto Tuk's hand.

"Well, there is only one way to find out."

You were startled by how quickly they began to race across the overlook and jump onto the vines. Your heart began to thump as you scaled the rocks higher up into the sky. You looked down to the steep fall below, wondering if you had just enough time to call for your Ikran to save you if you fell.

You were surprised that with each step it got easier, and even Spider, who was not built for Pandora's harsh terrain, kept up almost effortlessly. Maybe that was why they called him monkey boy.

"We're almost there!" Tuk squealed, as the sound of the Ikrans could be heard louder. The waterfalls were louder too, and you felt a strange lightness as you along with the rest of the group slowed down as you neared an alcove.

"There they are." Kiri said, pointing over to the left side of us where the Ikrans nested. The backdrop the rest of the way was beautiful as the Sun began to hang low, and the outline of the gas giant was visible.

You felt yourself wanting to ride your Ikran Payngyì , remembering that the hangar in which she resided was not too far away, and perhaps you could reach her.

Before you could debate it further a call could be heard, the voice sounding familiar, as you began to recall back to before and your arrival to Omaticaya.

Neteyam.

His Ikran soared across the sky, the multicolored blues of its wings casting shadows in the sky. Neteyam held strong to his Ikran, a symbol of good ability and you couldn’t help but feel your heart race at the sight. He swooped below, somehow spotting us in the little opening that we stood.

Spider began whooping, before you looked over to see Kiri rolling her eyes.

“It’s so obvious he’s trying to show off.” Kiri snarked, the signature fourteen year old attitude dripping off of her like hot honey. You couldn’t help but chuckle, before looking back towards Neteyam.

He now perched his Ikran where we were, his hushed whispers calming the still active creature. Looking over towards us, he swung his legs off the Ikran, before lifting his Ionar (rider's mask) and grinning.

“So, how long until Mom punishes you guys for being up here now?” Neteyam laughed at his siblings, before looking over at you. He pushed his head forward, and signaled a greeting. “Oel ngati kameie”

You felt your face heat up, as you returned the gesture haphazardly. “Oel ngati kameie.” Usually it came to you like clockwork, but you were quickly starting to realize even everyday tasks came awkward and jumbled when he was around.

Neteyam shifted his head in curiosity, before looking back at his siblings. “You know this won’t be a good impression to the Tayrangi clan if we keep breaking rules.”

“No. That was you and L’oak. Y/n wanted to be here.” Kiri sassed, knocking Neteyam over the head who groaned in playfulness.

“Mom will let us be here if y/n is here. She is a fierce hunter!” Tuk replied looking up to her older siblings.

Neteyam looked back at you, and the same expression graced his face. Can he seriously stop staring at me like that? It’s like he’s looking into my soul. You thought quietly, albeit returning his stare.

“Is that so?” Humor now splashing his face as he laughed. You frowned at his obvious display of mockery. “Pray tell me, where’s your Ikran now?”

Something in you snapped and whatever ounce of female gaze you had for him went away, and a competitive nature overtook you. “Where your clan resides. Why do you sound so shocked?”

Neteyam’s eyes lit as he watched you begin to challenge him with your voice. Something about the way your eyes squinted, or the way your soft lips titled in a scowl made his heart race in excitement.

Ever since your arrival he couldn’t help but find any way of talking to you, being near you, anything. He would be lying if it wasn’t driving him mad, especially when his siblings were beginning to pick up on it.

“I’m not. I just…” Neteyam paused thinking about his words before smiling deviously. Your head tilted as you began to realize what he was about to ask you.

“Do you care for a race? Since you’re a fierce hunter, I’m sure you and your Ikran can make a fine challenge for mine.” Neteyam crossed his arms, his mouth trying to hide the obvious nature of trying to get you to blow your temper.

“Now I would pay to see that.” Spider laughed looking over to Kiri who was shaking her head.

“Alright, what are the odds then?” You replied, your hand already itching to latch onto Payngyì.

“If you win, I’ll cover for you in case we get into trouble after this.” Neteyam shook his head in humor.

“And if I don’t, what… I’ll be thrown off the mountains for all of eternity?” You laughed.

Neteyam smiled widely before shaking his head. He began to walk towards you, and the feelings that you had pushed back in place of competition started coming back all at once. He leaned down, a wonderful scent invading your nose before whispering in your ear. “You owe me a date.”

You tried to hold in the gasp that threatened to push out, your head which had been cast down tilting up toward his own, very near face. “Deal.” You whispered. You watched as the corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement, the ghost of his touch passed your waist, before standing back. “Call to your Ikran.”

You wasted no time in standing closer to the edge, letting out your familiar call in hopes Payngyì would hear. You were right, as a few moments later her beautiful light blue figure flapped its wings and perched with a sounding screech.

You walked over to her, the beautiful golden shade of her pupils dilated as you gazed into her, petting her slowly in greeting. You looked over to Neteyam with a nod. “What are the parameters?”

Neteyam points out past the Tree of Souls to where a carefully arched connection of vines floated two mountains. “Over there, a little stretched away from where the camp is.”

You looked at him curiously, and he seemingly read your mind in the instant it crossed your face.

“Trust me it will be a challenge. The mountains move quickly, and you have to be careful to not hit anything.” Neteyam walked over to his Ikran, leaping up onto it.

You climbed up on your own, latching onto the Tsaheylu (bond/connection), feeling Payngyì screech, and her breath beginning to pump as she anticipated your next move.

“You can do it y/n!” You heard Tuk cheer, looking over you watched Kiri look at you with careful caution.

“Be careful. My brother is stupid, but he knows these mountains well. As much as it pains me to say it, he is one of the best hunters.” Kiri grimaced, Neteyam cheering out in response to her compliment.

“Are you ready, y/n?” Neteyam looked over at you with a wide smile.

You couldn’t help your own smile grace your face, nodding before him.

“I will see you at the finish line, then.” He winked, and suddenly you had forgotten there ever was a race, before watching as he dove his Ikran down, and upwards into the sky.

“Oh sh-” You exclaimed with a huff, following after him, the legs of Payngyì tightening, her wings closing in downwards. You felt the gust of air and you were suddenly very laser focused on winning. Not because the bullshit win might not guarantee you a harsh scolding afterwards, but simply to beat Neteyam. A man that was so intently after your own heart. And winning.

You saw him not too far in the distance, realizing there had to be a shortcut or some way to catch up to him and gain more speed. You tightened your hold on Payngyì, her voice squawking out as you nearly collided with a mountain that was moving closer to your right side. You banked left, realizing the air was a lot similar to that of the Eastern Sea.

Before in races, you would use the wind speed to gain traction by going downwards and upwards. This worked even better, once you realized that Neteyam in the distance was having to lose traction to weave through the mountains.

“Come on Payngyì.” You whispered, feeling her move exactly what you had in your mind, soaring upwards and downwards, before realizing you were nearing the tree of souls and the archway.

Neteyam glanced behind you with a fierce look in his eyes, before banking off and passing behind a particularly large mountain. You frowned realizing the same mountain that was coming left was now barreling toward you. You gasped narrowly escaping the bottom as you dived downward.

You must have startled Payngyì, because now she strained on your hold, and you could feel the fear in the bond. She began to slow down much to your disappointment, as you tried to push her forward.

All of the sudden you heard Neteyam fly past you from the opposite side he had come from. Payngyì, who had already been startled by the unfamiliar mountains, saw the shadow of his Ikran and screeched before diving again this time barreling towards the cliffs. You screamed, urging your Ikran to pull up but to no avail.

Neteyam must’ve seen the whole thing as you heard him call out to you. “Quickly this way!” He cascaded his own Ikran near the rocks, trying to keep Payngyì from hurting herself. In the process of pushing your own away from the cliffs, you watched as his shoulder scratched against jagged rocks, his skin tearing up. “Shit.” He swore.

“Neteyam!” You yelled, sighing in relief as he managed to pull his own Ikran away from the cliffs and fly smoothly next to mine. “Are you alright?”

“Yes…” He groaned, his injured arm locking up as his face squinted into a scowl. “I think-hold on…”

“Neteyam… do we need to stop?” You replied in concern, worried for the fact that his injury had begun to slowly bleed.

“Uh yeah…maybe…” His words now stuttering, looking at you in embarrassment. “Look, let's not go back to camp, I won’t be able to make my promise to you if we do.”

“If I was that worried about that Neteyam, I wouldn’t have agreed to this race.” I huffed. “Where do you want to go? You need care, you’re going to bleed out.”

“No, I know a place.” Neteyam grimaced, beckoning you to follow him. “Follow me.”

You grappled at the possibility of finishing the race or saving Neteyam, as you realized the way he was taking you was straight past the archway. He’s going to win, and I’ll owe him a date. You shook your thoughts from your mind, realizing any race or date was far from the task at hand, and making sure Neteyam is safe was more of a priority.

You sailed through the sky, the sun now setting, and the realization that your own mother and clan will be very disappointed if you embarrassed them by arriving past curfew. “Shouldn’t we just go back? I just don’t understand how any place we’re going will help you or anyone’s case.”

Neteyam, who had gone quiet, shook his head. “There is a place on the ground near the tree of souls not far from camp. Our ancestors used to go there because it possessed great healing powers. That’s where we get most of our medicine.”

You stared at him, his braided hair flying in the wind and his eyes focused intently on the mission ahead. It made you realize just how deeply he knew about his clan, and the role he knew he would have to serve one day. It made you look at him differently, and not just as a headstrong boy. He was a leader, he would be their savior one day.

As you neared the forest floor you saw a few spirit trees up ahead and a small rocky alcove. Resting both of your Ikrans on the floor, you realized the forest was beginning to come alive with its beautiful glow.

Neteyam grumbled, holding onto his arm loosely before looking up at me. “Uh.. if you grab some of those nearby plants-” You held up a hand, taking over realizing this routine was much similar to that of your clan near the Eastern Sea. Many times, you had to seek out ways to produce medicine for your injured clan, and the forest was no different.

“Sit down.” You ordered, pushing him down his mouth beginning to move in protest. “It’s the least I could do. You saved my life.” You looked down at him before turning back and grabbing some plants to make some sort of salve.

“Thank you.” You heard Neteyam quietly speak, feeling his eyes staring intently at your back. Your face heated up, grabbing a nearby rock and beginning to mash a few plants together.

You turned around, meeting his eyes who looked almost fascinated at you. You scrunched your face, and for the first time voiced your opinion. “Why do you always stare at me like that?”

“Like what?” Neteyam whispered, the nearness of your body to his and possibly the loss of blood making his voice go hoarse.

“Like…you’ve known me all your life or something.” You began applying the makeshift salve to his cuts, making him hiss in alarm. “Stop moving.”

“Well sometimes I think I do. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” Neteyam reached out his free hand, stopping you in your tracks. Your ears flicked in curiosity, before you shrugged his hand off of yours so you could continue. “Why do you ignore me?”

“I don’t.” You frowned, now suddenly very intent on helping bandage his arm, and stop from blurting out every ounce of feeling you have all at once. “You just-” You paused before continuing. “All the other boys in my clan have never once been so intent on getting my attention. Not that I want it but- you seemingly always do. And I-”

“Secretly like it?” You scoffed watching Neteyam’s mouth form into a wide smile.

“You’re a skxawng you know that?” You hissed, wrapping the bandage a little tighter against his arm much to his chagrin. At this point in his bandaging process, you had knelt next to him, and not realizing your nearness to him until you looked up to see his face so close to yours.

You inhaled that wonderful scent again and this time there was nothing to pull either of you away from each other. Neteyam closed in first, wrapping his uninjured hand onto your cheek softly, pulling you in for a kiss.

Wow. You thought to yourself. His lips were just as delicate as you had imagined them to be, yet strong and firm. You felt yourself move your own lips against his until both of you were passionately locked in one another. You felt his arm slide against your waist as you gasped, pulling you into his lap. Your mouth moved fervently against his, feeling the way he groaned beneath you. Something about the moment was complete bliss, and suddenly you were far away from your worries and goals in life, and all you wanted to do was to be wrapped in his arms for all eternity.

It all came to a halt when you felt his bandage arm try and glide against your body to pull you further down before the pain tore through. “Damn it!” Neteyam cursed, as you both pushed away in alarm. Your eyes widened as you fell away from his arms looking frightened at hurting him, but also at what had just transpired.

Looking around you realized it was now nightfall and most definitely one skip away from being permanently grounded forever. The spirit trees moved as the wind passed them by, a few sacred seeds falling around both of you, most definitely aware of what had just transpired from you.

“I’m sorry.” Neteyam apologized, his breath still uneven, and his mouths a bit swollen from your own lips. If it had been any other situation you would have climbed back into his arms, but you realized you definitely should be heading back. Getting up from your position, your hand reached to grab his uninjured one.

“We should get going.”

Neteyam stuttered before grabbing onto your hand and standing next to you. “I- Don’t you want to talk about what just happened?” His hand swept across his face. “So does this mean…?”

“I-” You were at a loss for words. “I don’t know.”

Neteyam laughed before shaking his head. “You are unlike any female I’ve met.”

You bit your lip as you shook your head, laughing with him. “Look, I’m not sure if I’m-”

“Before you say anything.” Neteyam said, grabbing your arm to keep you from walking away. “Can I take you out on that date anyways? Since I figured it was a tie, and I was going to try and cover for you anyways.”

“I don’t think anything will save either of us from punishment, Neteyam.” You chuckled, shaking your head, before turning around and making your way back to your Ikran to fly back to camp.

“So?” Neteyam called back to you, as you heard his steps race toward your own. You turn around watching as he got closer and everything that had just transpired came rushing in.

“Yes.” You smiled. You realized there was nothing stopping you from him. You spent so much of your life running from love because you thought it would stop you from achieving your goals in life. That was until you met Neteyam, and suddenly you couldn’t imagine your life without him. You were hopelessly in love. “As long as you promise you can kiss me just like before.”

Neteyam grinned, before nodding, grabbing your waist and pulling you in close. “Deal.”

And just like that, you had fallen for the Ikranä Maktoyu, with no chance of catching yourself either.

5K notes · View notes

lanalace · 27 days

Text

Gifts Given [Yandere Merman x FemReader]

Word count: 2,328

Summary: Nero Sol Nifan has waited for a mate for years while suffering from the madness that came as a side effect of the power he was bestowed. One day, he met you. His salvation. The only obstacle is that you were human. However, that was only an obstacle for you because he doesn’t plan to let you go.

Chapter 1 - Lost and Found

Life was a routine. Wake up, hunt, sleep and repeat. Occasionally the merman would share in song with the rest of his kind but that was it. He hated it. He was forever bored and life just felt mundane. Nero Sol Nifan was a 250 years old merman. He had reached maturity at 200 and had expected to find his mate within the first decade but no such luck. For a being so highly valued, it crushed his spirits.

Most merfolk found their mates within the first decade of reaching reproductive age, so why hadn’t he? Every decade after that was just an insult to injury. It was an open wound that grew larger with each year that passed without finding his mate and he was becoming desperate, though he would never show it on the outside.

He was told by an elder that most unmated males felt this way at his age and that this was quite normal to feel anxious and desperate. But being unmated for years would start to dull the outlook on life and not a single female that has sought him out was his fated one. None so much as interests him. Every mermaid had a destined match, however that never stopped them from copulating until the day they found their mate. He had both females and males fawn over him, within and outside of the mating cycles. But he rejected every single one of them. ‘If swimming to warmer waters was not ingrained in my biology, I would avoid it all together.’ Merfolk could enjoy each other's bodies whenever they pleased but only during mating cycles could offspring be produced and that's usually when most of his kind met their fated partner.

He still held hope that he would be able to find his mate despite his age. So he made sure to always carry the betroval item in a white satchel around his hip, inside was a bracelet of brilliant large baroque pearls and shiny yellow gold spacers. It was of the highest quality and extremely rare/hard to acquire which is why he was the only merman to have such jewels grace his body and soon so would his person who he’d live out his days with. For now, having to watch the rest of his kind find their pair and their release in each other every year while he could not just enraged him. He was almost tempted to kill some of those pretentious merfolk. He could do so very easily but he decided against it. He could do it so very easily.

Nero Sol Nifan was the strongest, priding himself on becoming most desirable for when he found his future mate. Due to him not finding his mate for many cycles, he focused on honing his skill, reaching new heights that others previously could not. Now he was almost twice the size of a normal mermen, more muscular than the rest of his kind which would usually put him at a disadvantage for being so dense. It did mark him slower, however, that didn’t last long, he had trained his body night and day to be the fastest. Not only that, due to his intense training, he developed a power, a gift believed to be given from the great goddess of the sea. He had gained the ability to not only communicate telepathically with all sea life but he could also manipulate them freely to do his bidding. This made the fear, envy and love of him grow. He was like a God among his people.

Though his people viewed it as a gift, he couldn’t completely see it as such. Telepathy was a very useful skill to have but it was not within his control. It doesn’t turn off and more often than not, it was absolutely maddening. He was subjected to countless screams of pain, secrets he didn’t care to know, hatred, envy, unwanted depraved desires from unworthy mermaids. All of it was simply too much. As a result, he quickly began isolating himself, moving farther and further away from merfolk and into less populated waters. He was hoping distance might somehow help with the constant radio noise in his head. But he found it within an underwater cave, instead.

There cave was huge. It looked like an enclosed beach. There were bioluminescent fungi scattered along the ceiling and walls, giving the cave an almost magical feel. He looked at the beautiful glow of the cave, watching the pool leading to the ocean reflect off of the jagged walls.

“Magnificent.” He said under his breath. He had never seen such a wondrous sight this deep under water.

Nero Sol Nifan beached himself on the sandy floor of the cave, slipping his massive silver-white tail out of the water and curling it by his side. The moment he did that the noise in his head quieted down just a bit. It was still ever so present but it took the edge off.

“Why is it that I was cursed by you, my goddess?” He spoke to the pool of water before him. He was expecting a response of some kind but was met with silence, the surface only reflecting his beautiful, milky face back at him. How he wished that he could go back to the time where he thought life was mundane.

He sighed and laid himself down on a nearby rock that could pass as somewhat of a diving board. He was angry with the goddess, he cursed her name in his head and his hatred built for this deceitful deity who had taken his sanity. But he needed to rest.

50 years later~

Nero Sol Nifan woke up to the sound of fish screaming in his head. He never got use to this day in and day out chaotic noise. He looked a little worse for wear since the days before his life became his own personal hell. His eyes looked dull, dark circles have taken up permanent residence under his eyes, tinged with red from the endless stress. His handsome face looked a bit haggard but that was not enough to take away much from his beauty.

He dragged himself out of his cave and into the water. He hadn’t eaten in a few days, wishing to just parish within the walls of his cave. But today, something told him to go out. He didn’t understand the urgency amidst the buzzing chatter in his mind but he followed his instincts.

The white tailed merman swam out into the open ocean in search of his next meal. He felt uneasy today but brushed it off. It happened to be a rather dreary day, the waters were turbulent and a bit colder than normal while the world above was crying heavily. He knew that he could simply manipulate any fish to come to him and have an easy meal but he enjoyed hunting. It gave him a chance to release a small bit of the madness that he lives with daily on his prey.

That’s when he spotted a school of red snapper fish. The bright color caught his sharp lilac eyes in an instant and he was off. Speeding quickly in their direction, with his large tail pistoling him forward. The smaller prey was easily more elusive than a larger catch but he made quick work of them. Keeping up with the fast changing paths of the snappers, he allowed the chase to go on a tad bit longer than necessary before slicing through the school with his massive claws, skewering 8 of them onto his claws. That was enough for a meal so he indulged right then and there as the rest of the school swam off.

He was pleased, this meal would sustain him for the next two days. With a full stomach, the handsome merman lazily began his journey back to his cave. Had the water been steady today he would have basked in the rays of the sun instead.

“Unfortunate.” He grimaced to himself.

He didn’t get more than a few feet away from his original position when he heard and unusual crash behind him. The white hair merman turned tin the direction of the sound and what he saw confused him

“A human?”

‘What was a human doing so far away from land?’ He thought to himself. There were no ships in the water, he would have seen it. Heck, he would have heard all the fish nearby chattering about it. His tired eyes landed on the sinking figure and his heart tightened. He felt something akin to panic start to take over him. It had been so long since he had felt anything outside of rage or pity for himself. He had the human in his arms before he even realized that he moved to catch her.And just like that, his world grew quiet. Nero Sol Nifan’s face grew into an incredulous look and his body trembled.

“I can’t hear anything anymore.” His eye expanded in shock as he slowly looked down at the human in his arms and his grip tightened around the creature’s body.

With a clear mind for the first time in ages, the merman blew a large bubble around the girl, encasing her within the translucent orb. He swam full speed to his cave, reaching there in record time. He pushed the bubble to the surface of the pool and burst it, catching the being and resting her on the crystal like sand. He brought his head to her face and listened carefully but no sound escaped those lips.

“No!” He cried out. ‘I will not lose my salvation the moment I finally have it.’

He gripped the creature's shoulder and shook hard a few times, noting how small and fragile you felt in his hands. Unfortunately, that did not work either. His panic rose because he thought that the human might have died so he placed his hand on its head.

“Still warm.” He whispered and that knowledge calmed him. Thinking quickly, he performed the maneuver that he had witnessed sailors use on their own kind on several occasions by pressing his palm on breast bone and applying pressure repeatedly. He was careful of his strength, knowing he could break such weak bones easily. It took about 30 seconds before the human's eyes flew open and it sat up, coughing up water.

‘It actually worked. Thank goodness that I was able to preserve this human life.’ He sighed with relief. The merman eye the frail thing as it continued coughing and sucking in air, he could only see the back of its head from where he sat. ‘It looks so weak compared to the ship dwellers.’ His thoughts stopped there because that object of his quiet thoughts turned to face him and met his inquisitive gaze.

The moment their eyes met, his cold heart froze. It was as if time stopped in that moment as he looked upon the tiny human. She was female, with thick, long h/c hair clinging to her face and back. Her dazzling e/c eyes sparkled like jewels with the tears she had yet to fully shed and a small coral pink lips that attracted he wished to touch. His heart started back up and it throbbed in his chest. He never thought his cold heart would beat for a human. His body felt so hot from the top of his cheeks to the base of his tail.

‘What is this? My body feels so hot. Almost like it is mating season yet different. I feel drawn to this creature. Could this be my mate? Is this what all my suffering was for? To make sure that I was kept pure for this little human?’ It was uncomfortable but strangely pleasant. It was like nothing he had ever felt before but he decided he liked the feeling. It was exciting. ‘So this is my mate. I have cursed the goddess of the sea everyday for the past five decades because of this damned curse but she not only bestowed me with power, she also has gifted me this precious female. I am terribly sorry goddess I have wronged you and been ungrateful and undeserving. I will never look down on the blessing you have provided me again. I will never question you again.’

He was so caught up in his own inner thoughts that hadn’t even realized how terrified his tiny mate-to-be looked. She eyed him with fascination and great fear while she inched away from him. He didn’t like that one bit, narrowing his eyes, he yelled at her.

“Stay!”

But the little female squealed in response, throwing her small hands out in front of her in defense. Her little scream sounded melodic to his ears. He found himself wanting to hear her talk to him so he spoke again, this time gentler.

“Female, you are safe. I have saved your life. I will not harm you.” He reached a webbed hand out to her slowly, intending to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. But the girl flinched away and started speaking in a rushed manner.

“Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me. I promise I don’t taste good. Even sharks don’t like people meat. So please just stay where you are.”

He retracted his arm and gave a small smile endearingly. Due to all the excitement, he had completely forgotten the language barrier. He did not understand her at all but her voice was so pretty and soft that he instantly liked it. It suited her feminine appearance well. If she had had a tail, he wouldn’t even blink twice and acknowledge her as a beautiful mermaid just based on her appearance and voice.

Fast as lightning, he snatched the human's outstretched wrist and pulled her to him. Before she could so much as scream, the merman pressed his lips to her.

[Chapter 2 is out!]

#Yandere Merman #Yandere Siren #Merman #Siren #Merman x reader #Siren x reader #Possessive behavior #Obsessive behavior #mermaid #Dark #obsessive love #dark romance

177 notes · View notes

thewriterwithnoplan · 8 months

Text

THE TRAITOR'S SOULMATE (2/2)

Summary: Humans once had four legs, four arms, two heads, and two hearts. For humanity's hubris, Zeus struck them in two. You and Luke Castellan are determined to find your way back to each other, but before that can happen, there are things the two of you need to do.

[Part 2 to The Hero's Soulmate]

Soulmate AU: You meet the future version of your soulmate.

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Word Count: 7378

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, I use the spelling 'mom' because the series is American but I - and I cannot stress this enough - am not American, she a long one.

A/N: I've loved reading your comments, thank you so much for all the support in part one. I hope you enjoy, because we all deserve a little Luke Castellan every now and then!

Masterlist

Amphitrite had been gifted a premonition and the world was all the worse for it. The dream had come from Apollo or perhaps the Oneiroi or whatever great heart pumped blood and Gods and monsters out into the world.

It did not matter to the Goddess from whom the vision came, for in this dream Amphitrite had watched her husband fall in love and sire a child to a mortal paramour. A precious boy that Poseidon might even one day love, with a taste for the colour blue and a heroism that would grow to rival his namesake. And for the Queen of the Seas, that simply would not do.

It would not be the child’s nor his mortal mother’s fault – she was not Hera after all – and so she would have to punish her husband for the blame would be his. But how was one to punish a King among Gods before his crime even came to be? Why to beat him at his own game, of course.

So, Amphitrite set out to sire her own demigod with the mortal man her husband would hate most. A devout catholic.

Amphitrite stayed with her mortal lover and their half-blood daughter until the girl was all but five. Far longer than the greater Gods were wont to spend with their offspring. But what a precious babe she had bourn and what a traitorous husband she had back home.

But fate and prophecies and soulmates were such funny things. Inciting chaos. Inviting paradox. Introducing dangers untold.

It took Amphitrite all those years – though seemingly short in her immortality – to realise her fatal error. She had been the one to leave Poseidon. She had been the one to sire a child. She had been the one to drive her husband to the surface and his mortal. And so, the blame was hers to shoulder.

Amphitrite decided that she would be a self-fulfilling prophecy no longer. It was time to venture back below the surface.

In a last fit of guilt, she bestowed her first and final act of mercy unto her mortal lover. She told him everything.

When finally, she had gone back to the sea to reconcile with her husband, the catholic man took his turn to bestow his first and final act of mercy unto his young demigod child.

Against all the teachings of his faith. He abandoned his young daughter at Half-Blood Hill. And let the devil-spawn keep her life.

The Spirit of the Hudson River never did learn to like you. You with your greedy hands, snatching debris from its murky waters. You and your strange sea creature friends who would not dare brave such pollution were it not for your presence. Your pile of war spoils tossed aside like children’s toys. Your strange little bubble of air on the sandy floor of the river, where you stowed your treasures and slept bracketed by water. Were it not for the pollution that slopped against the edge of the river as if it were trying to escape you, the Hudson River Spirit might have chased you and your sea friends and your collection of trinkets out of his waters. But as it were, you made a strangely amicable tenant for a demigod. So, as long as you paid your dues the spirit let you keep your little underwater oasis.

For your first years living there, you made your way in New York City by selling lost things dredged from your river home. Bikes and old weaponry and tarnished jewellery and buckets of coins from across the world. You were careful and you coveted your few precious belongings, but with the rivers bounty, you rarely went hungry.

By the time you were fourteen, you found you could venture further into the city without as many questions. You had met an odd assortment of people whilst selling the lost and unloved things of the river; all who knew someone, who knew someone, who needed another set of hands and so you offered yours. You babysat and cleaned, worked in delis and sandwich shops, helped old women with their groceries and young families mend their clothes. A retired teacher gifted you packets of schoolwork and with little else to fill your hours under the river you took to learning. Your numbers came easier than letters and reading always gave you a hard time but the activities she gave you each time you tended to her balcony garden gave you something to do when the sounds of the city kept you up at night.

All the while you followed Percy Jackson from the recesses of the Hudson. Shuffling your little bubble and its blessedly dry treasures up and then back down the river as he was bounced listlessly from school to school. Watching over him as the mythosphere tried desperately to barge into his little mortal life. Feral harpies that tried to snatch him into the air, great snakes that tried to sneak through air vents and all manner of underworld-born sea creatures that sought to pull him below. You had wrestled and dismembered and slayed them all. Adding their feathers and scales and great weapons to your dragons-hoard.

You were sixteen when you finally knocked on Sally Jackson’s door to introduce yourself. You had spent weeks working yourself up to it, planning your outfit and then fussing over each piece. All your clothes had been gifts and were often a size too big or printed with some generic tagline like Spread peace not hate!; or made entirely from yarn that the old woman whose meals you prepped at the start of each week had gifted you after she had taught you how to crochet; or like the dress you wore now, were sown together from thrifted fabric scraps and embellished with pretty shells and baroque pearls. You had planned the time you would arrive down to the minute so that her oppressive husband would be out, but the hour would not be so late as to make an unexpected visit threatening. You had planned to keep Percy safe while you were away from him by entrusting your friends Clarence the Crab and Emily the Squid to supervise him for the evening.

What you had not planned for was the possibility that Sally Jackson would be the most lovely woman you had ever met. You had been struck dumb by it the moment she opened her door and greeted you with a kind smile. Couldn’t your mother have chosen a mortal as gentle as she to be your parent? Alas, the Gods had never done a thing for you.

“Can I help you, lovely?”

You tried not to burst into tears as you asked, “Mrs. Jackson?”

“Are you alright?” She opened the door wider, leant out and scanned the corridor behind you. “Is there something you need?”

“No ma’am. I’m here about your son, Percy. His father sent me.” A good ambiguous statement that would pique her curiosity but let on nothing about the Gods. Allowing you to spin your tale – that you were Percy’s long-lost step-sister, come to reconnect.

“Poseidon?” Alas, the Gods had truly never done a thing for you. “Is something wrong? Is Percy, okay?”

“He’s fine Mrs. Jackson, I’ve been keeping him safe.”

She scanned the hall behind you once more, “You best come in.”

Over a cup of tea, you told Sally Jackson everything.

You liked your home under the river. For lack of a better term, it allowed you to remain liquid. You could follow Percy wherever trouble took him. You could stay up until the city grew quiet for that brief moment before dawn. You could train with the Hudson River Spirit, even if he only entertained you because he enjoyed winning.

You liked your bed made out of stacked wood pallets and a mountain of blankets. You liked your wooden chest of draws stuffed full of trinkets and weapons and the precious few items you owned. You liked this place that you had carved out with your own two hands.

But you also liked your home in the Jackson household. Where there was always music playing. Where it was always warm and dry. Where there would always be some blue-ified food in the oven or blue candy in the mason jars by the sink.

It became your job in the summers to babysit Percy, to keep him away from Gabe and from danger while entertaining his endless need for motion. You took him to art galleries (which he hated) and aquariums (which he loved), to craft fairs (which he tolerated because he liked the things you made) and swimming pools (which he only liked when he won your swimming races).

“What even is a soulmate?” Percy had asked you one day at the park.

“The person with the other half of your soul,” You scrunched your nose up, “Or well, that's what people say.”

“You’re saying I’ve been walking around with half a soul?”

“I didn’t say I believed them,” You rattled your water bottle in front of his face until he took it. “Stay hydrated.”

He frowned at you, “You don’t believe in soulmates?”

“Of course I do, but it's a little more complicated than that, kid.” You took the water bottle back and played with the cap for a moment while you thought. “Think of it like this. You can have two different puzzles that are cut the same way, right? So all the pieces from one will fit with all the pieces from the other. But that doesn’t mean they belong together, the picture doesn’t come out quite right because even though the pieces fit, they don’t necessarily belong to the same puzzle. Maybe that’s what it was like for your mom, like she couldn’t find the pieces that made up her picture and so she went with the ones that fit at the time.”

“You don’t think my mom and dad were soulmates?”

“I never met your father.”

“But he’s your dad too.”

“He’s my mom’s husband. Maybe my mom and dad are soulmates.�� Percy didn’t seem to like that answer. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe your mom and my mom each have pieces that fit into your dad's puzzle but neither match his picture, or both. Maybe his picture is a year with your mom and a lifetime with mine and having you. Maybe he needs to collect all those little pieces at the right time when they’re the right shape or he’ll end up with a completely different picture at the end.”

“I kind of understand.” But he gave you a look that said he probably didn’t. “What picture are you making?”

You hid your smile behind the lip of your water bottle, “My soulmates about yay-high, pretty as a magazine cover with dimples and all. I’m collecting my puzzle pieces with you and your mom and this city so that I’ll have half of his picture.”

“If you know who he is, why don’t you just go find him now?”

“Still looking for some pieces, I guess.” You kicked a rock with the toe of your boot. “Souls are fragile. If you go rushing in and trying to jam the pieces in when they’re not shaped right just yet you could damage them.”

“What happens if you do that?”

“It’s probably harder to find each other in the next life. You’ll chip pieces away and your souls won’t fit right.” You shoved your hands into the pockets of your cardigan and pulled out a sandwich, you gave Percy the bigger half.

“Who taught you all this?”

“My mom used to tell me and well, I've thought about it a lot.” You tugged Percy by the back of his shirt so he didn't go stomping through a puddle, he glared. “But anyway, some people think it’s just fate. That you find your soulmate no matter what and it’s a perfect fit either way.”

“It would be easier that way.”

“Sometimes that’s just not how the story goes, kid.”

Percy thought that was the most important thing anyone had ever taught him, but he figured some of the other stuff you taught him came in handy too. You taught him the tricks you learned to work around your dyslexia. You taught him to skip stones and to not throw rocks at seagulls. You taught him to flip off the Empire State Building but only when his mom wasn’t around. You taught him to knit and do a cartwheel and make a good cup of tea to take his mother in the morning. You taught him to chew with his mouth shut and to sword fight with wrapping paper rolls. You taught him to braid hair and throw a punch and say all the swears in Ancient Greek.

And then one day, a Satyr came for Percy Jackson, and there was nothing left for you to teach.

You wrote Sally a brief letter of warning, picked your way through seven years’ worth of belongings and collapsed your life into a backpack. You said goodbye to Clarence and Emily with a brief promise to visit, pushed a final wave of pollution from the waters and thanked the Hudson River Spirit for his hospitality. He gifted you sixteen perfect round pearls and insisted that he never wanted to see you again. You spent the bus ride to Long Island threading them into a necklace made of fishing wire, tying off each pearl with your teeth.

It was a tentative tradition between demigod soulmates to exchange gifts upon their first meeting. So few and far between were the possessions of a half-blood that even the smallest bauble would likely mean the world. The practice had died out some over the centuries as the Gods received fewer offerings from mortals and turned to their children for sacrifices. Gift-giving to your soulmate as a demigod became all but synonymous with spitting at the feet of the divine and loudly proclaiming you would make offerings to your soulmate instead. A pearl necklace would be an excellent final addition to the collection of small gifts you had assembled over the years. Let the Gods weep at your feet and beg for scraps if they needed them so much, you would ignore them just as they had ignored you.

You arrived at Camp far sooner than you might have liked, a few hours past mid-day when hopefully the rest of your ilk would be occupied with meaneal chores and activities. You considered waiting at the crest of the hill for someone to notice you only to find a pine tree planted firmly at its peak where you might have stood. Instead, you make the alarmingly easy trek down to the Big House.

“Chiron!” He had always been your favourite of the two men, currently sat on the porch drinking juice and playing cards.

“Yes, my girl?” He barely spared you a glance as he shuffled his cards between his weathered hands. He stilled for a moment and then tossed his head back in the way a horse might toss its mane. “My dear!”

You raised a hand, halfway between a salute and a wave, “Nice to know I haven’t been totally forgotten.”

“Au contraire.” Mr. D stuck his nose up at you. “Which one are you again?”

“The little one that went missing some seven years ago,” Chiron stood as you climbed the stairs onto the porch. “How are you, my dear? Where have you been?”

“Shouldn’t you be at Yancy Academy?”

Mr. D’s eyes turned sharp in the way that had once made your friends whisper that some days, he was more maniac than man , “And how do you know about that little girl?”

“Percy Jackson is at Yancy,” You smiled at him, all teeth, “How did you think he survived long enough for your baby satyr to find him?”

“You have been protecting young demi-gods?” Chiron asked wearily.

“Percy Jackson is a full-time job, I’m afraid,” You tugged at the strap of your backpack, praying you could keep control of the conversation. You had a lot of time under the river to think and this was one of many things you had spent countless hours mulling over. Weighing and considering what story you would tell them – to tell the truth of both your parentage and put Percy in harm's way or to lie and balance your life on its sharp edge. “I found him in Manhattan, he was like a magnet for mythological activity. By the time I’d had enough of rebelling and wanted to come back to camp, I was protecting him from attacks every other week. He wouldn’t have lasted a month. I came back as soon as I could.”

No matter how many times you played it out in your head, the lies won every time.

“Kids.” Mr. D threw back the last of his juice.

“Perhaps you should settle back into the Hermes Cabin, dear.” Chiron smiled down at you, the corners of his eyes pinched, “You’ve given myself and Mr. D much to talk about. We’ll settle the issue of your paperwork tomorrow.”

“Of course.” You rustled through your bag, digging up a palm sized statuette that you set onto the table. “Before I forget, I brought you a gift Mr. D.”

“A toy,” He snatched it up. “Oh joy.”

“It’s you, as the mortals’ see you. It’s from the gift shop at the Met.”

“How kind of you, my dear.” Chiron softened, and you watched as even Mr. D’s temper seemed to ease, his hands gentle around the gift as he admired it.

An unseeing piece of plastic for the God who served as no more than a silent observer over the affairs of the camp. Let him choke on his ego, you thought as you left the pair to their discussion.

Cabin 11 was blessedly empty when you entered, but your old bunk was not. A pile of clothes was thrown haphazardly across the bedspread. You snatched a sleeping bag and a lumpy pillow from the storage closet and threw them down with your bag. If you could not have the bunk that had been yours at twelve, you would claim the corner that had been yours at five. As you shook out the sleeping bag and pulled out your belongings, you tried not to think of your bed of blankets under the river or Sally Jackson’s couch.

Instead you turned your mind to the Big House and the conversation that was no doubt happening within.

You had constructed a perfect image, if you did say so yourself. Grown in ways Mr. D could not have predicted but Chiron would insist he had foreseen. Still a rebellious young woman in the mortal sense, with your scuffed leather boots and ripped jeans. But the parts that had screamed ‘insubordination’ to the Gods were neatly tucked away. Your twin knives strapped to your forearms under the billowing sleeves of your crocheted top, your vicious tongue caged behind a sweet grin, your once sharp stare softened at the edges.

Once you had fashioned yourself so that the Gods could not paint you as a hero, now you fashioned yourself so that they might forget you were an enemy.

Let Chiron think you were a misunderstood wayward girl scout come home from her self-imposed quest. Let Mr. D think you were a stupid girl who had seen the world beyond the Gods’ protection and finally accepted that you needed them. Let them all think wrong. You had left to protect your brother and returned for one reason only.

“You’re here.”

You turned, and there he was, “Luke Castellan.”

He opened his mouth and then closed it, limbs jerking slightly as if he wasn’t sure whether to move toward you or stay put. He was almost certain you could hear the way his pulse was racing, his heartbeat clanging wildly in his chest as he searched desperately for a suave reply, but everything else seemed lack lustre when you said his name like that.

Your face twisted into something like anger and for a moment he thought he’d messed it all up before your lips curled and you practically spat, “I do like your scar.”

And then he was laughing at you, wild and bewildered and not the least bit contained. Before long you were laughing too, neither of you quite sure what was funny, just so wholly relieved as your chests were flooded with wonder and warmth.

It felt like fireworks and popping candy. Just as he had promised all those years ago. You resisted the urge to throw up on his Converse.

You might have been crying and he might been too but you weren’t exactly sure because one moment you were both laughing at nothing and the next he was on the floor with you. He held you like he had never held a single thing in his life, like he was lost at sea and you were the only solid thing for miles. He tucked your head under his chin and sucked in great forced breaths that you could feel beneath your cheek. Because he was warm and there and real. And that meant the last seven years, the better part of your life, hadn’t been for nothing.

You and Luke make your way to dinner side by side. You had spent the afternoon rambling about your lives, about your meetings with your future selves, about your home under the river, about his responsibilities as a camp counsellor and yours as your brother’s keeper. He told you about Annabeth and Thalia and the rest of his siblings, you told him about your parents and Sally Jackson and your sea friends. You gave him his necklace which he lets you fix in place at the base of his throat – you do not spend a moment too long running your hand up the back of his neck and through his curls.

He had been almost bashful when he gifted you a watch that matched his, inlaid with twin fragments of mother of pearl taken from the same shell – kind of like your soul had been, he had said. You swear you’ve never owned anything as precious. You let him strap it to your wrist as he tells you about spending a summer diving for it in the lake. And then softly, tentatively, he tells you about his quest.

Luke could have cried from the way you were looking at him alone, so very gently, like you could cradle him with your gaze alone. At a loss for words, you simply whispered, “I am so proud of you.”

His grip is iron-clad and you tell your next story with your face pressed into the side of his neck, pretending you can’t feel him shaking softly.

When you make your way to dinner you’re both glowing with the soft exhaustion of emotion. You all but lean against one another as you collect your goblets and fill your plates.

The other campers steer clear of you, content to leave Luke to chauffeuring the new kid around. You count yourself lucky, it was only a matter of time until one of the older campers recognised you.

You were almost to the end of the Hermes table – that perfect spot at the end where you might just have a chance of holding a private conversation after dinner – when Chiron interrupted you.

“Mr. Castellan, I see you’ve acquainted yourself with our newly returned camper.”

“That’s my job, sir.” You tried not to stare at the crooked smile he flashed the centaur.

“Perhaps you ought to show her how to make an offering,” Chiron says pointedly, “She’s been away for a long time, and it’s your responsibility to treat her as you would any other incoming Camper.”

Luke turned to you, his boyish grin still charming but the mirth leaking out of his eyes, “Of course. Do you remember how it’s done?”

“I do. Just not a lot of food to be spared in the mortal world.”

You squinted, the corners of your mouth pulled up in what Chiron would likely mistake for sheepishness. But Luke could see it in your eyes. How your anger had made you pointy in all the places someone your age ought to be soft. He wondered how all the jagged edges of you would feel against all the jagged edges of him. He thought maybe if the two of you were careful, you could make something smooth as sea glass and twice as pretty, together.

You dump a clump of mashed potatoes into the fire with an unconcerned flick of your fork. Luke lops part of his own meal on top of yours, you glare enviously at the reasonable portion he had left on his plate. You hoped the food would burn at the bottom of the braiser.

“Sorry, sir.” You mocked Luke. He stuck his tongue at you once Chiron had turned his back.

You hurried to snag the seat at the end of his table, sliding into place across from each other. You flounder for a moment, wondering whether to draw your legs as far under your seat as they will go or bask in the gentle brush of his knee against his leg. You settle for the latter and try not to evaporate under his gaze, as he stares at you even as you start eating.

Luke realised he’d spent too long staring when you all but groaned, “Don’t tell me I have to sacrifice my dinner to you too.”

He flashed you a grin, then tried to say as nonchalantly as possible,“Is that why you left? So you could enjoy a proper meal every once and a while?”

You stared at him for a long while, “You, future you, told me to leave, to find my brother.”

“Why would I do that? If you had stayed at Camp–”

“That’s almost exactly what I said to you.” You pushed your food around as you stared at a point just beyond his head, he thought for a moment that he could see the neurons firing behind your eyes, like a hundred tiny zaps of lightning, “But I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. And I think you were right to send me away.”

“I don’t think I’ll be hearing that very often.” He dodged the pea you fling at him with a grin.

“I think maybe if I don’t leave, I won’t become this me or do the things I’ve done and maybe that’s important for us or our future or some past you rewrote by telling me to leave.”

“Seems overly complicated.”

“I think it’s supposed to be complicated,” You couldn’t help but admire the quiet skill with which he wielded his cutlery, “If it were easy, we would find each other in every universe.”

He paused, knife aloft, “You don’t want to find each other in every universe?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” You speared a leaf of spinach onto your fork to hide your scowl behind as you said, “The Gods have made it this way to keep us separated.”

“We’re together now.”

“Which means they lost.”

Luke watched you for a drawn out heartbeat, then leaned over to transfer the perfect squares of meat he’d been cutting onto your plate.

You took a long moment to chew before you said, “So, your plan to send me after Percy worked.”

“I thought it was your plan.”

“I forgot to ask you whose plan it was.”

“I say it’s your plan.” He took a long pull from his goblet that left his lips tinted red.

“It doesn’t matter what you think.” You passed him a napkin before he could ask, “It’s what you will think.”

“Sure, Precious.” He smothers a laugh into the napkin at the way you scrunch your nose at him, “You know, because you're so protective of your food. Like Gollum with the ring.”

“That’s the stupidest explanation for a pet name I’ve ever heard.” But you’re damn near head down on the table as you laughed. “I definitely got the smarter half of our soul.”

“Then it was definitely your plan.”

You’ve still got a hand pressed to your face to conceal your smile when you say, “What about when I meet you? Any words of wisdom?”

“Try not to fall for me. I can tell you’re pretty charmed but it’s really not appropriate. I’m seventeen, and you’re what? Twenty-four?”

You launched your bread roll at him. You’re twice as incensed when he catches it whilst looking directly at you, “Asshole.”

“Smartass. See, two can play that game.”

Luke can’t help but think you’re just as pretty sneering as you are smiling, like no expression no matter how ugly could detract from your beauty. Maybe you’re like him, he scarcely dared to hope. Maybe you’re something better, another part of him whispered. The way you talk about the Gods and turn your nose up at them, and play their game only when it suits you.

You weren’t vengeful in the way he was. You weren’t the spitting vicious thing the Camp had liked to pretend you were when you weren’t around to prove otherwise. You were worse and better and everything he needed. You were a storm on the horizon, a snake coiled tight. You were better than just angry. You were disillusioned. Not a product of juvenile resentment but true wrath born of awareness. Not the wild foaming-at-the-mouth kind that he had imagined when he had first heard your name. But the dark carefully contained kind he had seen in the face you would grow into.

This, Luke thought, you were the start of everything.

It’s some weeks later when you stick your hands through the grating of the bunk above Luke as leverage to lean over him and croon, “Up and at ‘em, Pretty Boy.”

He pushed his face out of his pillow, curls sticking up at odd angles as he looked at you half-asleep, “What?”

“Remember? Training?”

“No,” He scrubbed sleep from his eyes, “What did you call me?”

“Sickly.”

“I don’t think that was it.” He propped his head up on a fist as he smiled at you sleepily.

It was so disgustingly cute that you had to turn your back when you said, “Just meet me there.”

Luke’s freshly showered and holding an apple core when he deigns to join you in the forest. He tossed the apple at you and you caught it without thinking. You fake gag at him as you throw it further into the forest.

You wiped your hands against his shoulder as you say, “I’m not sure if an apple core counts but that was dangerously close to an Ancient Greek proposal, Castellan.”

“I got hungry.” He shrugged. You squared off across the clearing, stretching as you warmed yourselves up for the ensuing sparring match.

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

“Is this you rejecting me?” He landed an open hand on his chest and staggered backward. “You wound me, Precious!”

“Was that you proposing? Because I’m,” You wiped your hand again for good measure, scrunching your nose up, “Disgusted.”

“You would be honoured if I had just proposed to you.”

“You should be nicer to me.”

“And go easy on you just because you’re my soulmate? Unlikely.”

“Because, asshole, I’m the one who got you out of chores this morning, or have you forgotten already. You seemed rather grateful for your little sleep-in.”

He unsheathed his sword and twirled it round in his hand, “You’re a bad influence.”

“Like you weren’t ready to worship the ground I walk on when I told Chiron you needed to get my training up to speed.”

“Do you want me to tell you, you’re brilliant?” He pointed his sword toward you with that grin that made you want to hold him down just so you could admire it longer. “You’re brilliant.”

“You’re stalling.” You pull your knives out, one from your boot, the other from your belt. You miss your old clothes with their pretty sleeves and their personality, your camp shirt seems a poor trade in comparison.

“Stalling? Me?” Luke scoffed. “Never!”

“Don’t you have a counsellor meeting at half-past?”

“I do, so please don’t feel bad when you lose. I only have half an hour to wrap this up. You understand.”

“Who’s fault is that Mr. Just-five-more-minutes?”

He gasped in mock offence and lunged forward, his sword swinging at you in a great arch. You leapt back, out of his range, then ducked low and rushed toward him. Luke was quick, in a viciously smooth move he swept his sword at you again. You brought your knives together, bracing as the impact ricocheted up your arms. Admittedly, you were at a great disadvantage given that you were reluctant to throw a knife at Luke’s head – even though he’d demonstrated an impressive ability to swipe your wayward throws out of the air – and that he had an additional several feet of reach on you.

Luke feigned to the right, you lashed out at his left side and narrowly avoided his sword as it came down at you. He whistled slowly as both of you backed up to circle each other for a moment.

“You’ve got moves, I’ll give you that.”

And so the dance went on. Luke struck, you parried or slipped out of his blade's path with a flourish. You struck, Luke swung his sword and slipped around your blows. Finally, you found the chink in his precious armour. He fell back to his right foot when he deflected a blow. You jerked forward. You jabbed the knife clutched in your left hand toward him as you moved in with the right. Just as you hooked a foot around the back of his leg, Luke’s sword made contact with your left shoulder slicing through sleeve and skin. Luke fell backward with a sharp hiss, his sword flying to the side.

In the end you had laid him out flat in twenty minutes. Luke Castellan had spent the last seven years fighting to win. You had spent them fighting to survive. You supposed it didn’t hurt that the greatest swordsman to enter Camp Half-Blood in nearly three centuries was reluctant to let anything sharp or pointed anywhere near you. You secretly thought he might have been going easy on you for being his soulmate after all. You collapsed on the forest floor beside him, your chest heaving to draw in oxygen.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” Luke huffed.

“Orange isn’t really my colour.”

He turned to you with a wink, “Oh but it is.”

You wave your hand through the air.

“I’ve gotten very good at putting broken things back together over the years.” He tried not to look at the line of stitching that ran from the ankle of your jeans to the rips at your knee. You tried not to look at his cheek. Instead you reached out and trailed your hands across his necklace where the pearls sat snuggly at the base of his throat.

“You’re wonderful.” He brushed his knuckles down your shoulder and they came away red. “Even covered in blood you’re the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You groaned, “Sweetness, you can’t just say–”

“You call me Sweetness when you visit me.” He whispered it like it was his greatest secret. You traced up his throat to his cheek and pressed your thumb into his dimpled cheek. “You’re still being wonderful. I can’t think when you’re–”

“Wonderful?”

“Okay, Smartass.” He sighed up at the sky, then pulled the both of you to your feet, “Enough lounging, we need to get that cut checked.”

You let him dust the dirt from you and resheath your knives, one in your boot, the other in your belt. Silently revelling in the gentle way he tugs you this way and that. You were well on your way to the infirmary, shoulders bumping and fingers just barely brushing, before he spoke again.

“Where does it come from? The nickname.”

“Sweetness?”

He looked away from you and squinted off into the distance, as if you were suddenly too bright to look at, “Yeah.”

“My mom used to tell me this story about meeting her soulmate. She probably meant Poseidon, but at the time I thought it was about my dad,” The back of Luke’s hand bumped into yours again, his fingers catching yours, his gaze resolutely ahead but you were definitely holding hands. “She said it felt like swallowing lightning and gorging yourself on popping candy. Like sweetness.”

“You like popping candy?”

“It’s my favourite.” You gave him a queer look as if to say, it’s not yours, you utter heathen?

Luke laughed at you all the way to the Apollo Cabin as he listed all the reasons it was the sub-par candy option. Nonetheless, when you emerge from the infirmary, he unloads a fistful of little packets he’d pinched from the candy bowl when the Apollo kids’ hadn’t been looking.

“Who has sub-par candy options now, Sweetness?” You teased, your mouth crackling merrily.

“Keep calling me that and you can have all the terrible candy you want.”

“Try some,” You shoved a packet toward him, because if he kept saying silly things like that and looking at you the way he was you were liable to do or say something equally as stupid. “You’ve got half my soul, maybe it’s our favourite.”

“I don’t think they had popping candy when we had one soul,” He flicks the packet held between your fingers. “And aren’t you the one who says we’re puzzle pieces not halves?”

“You have been listening to me!”

“Hard not to.”

“Asshole.” You flashed your teeth at him.

“Smartass.” He said, but the bite wasn’t there. He was watching you again, in that way he did sometimes before he said something stupid that made you want to throw yourself in the lake or run back to Manhattan or do something equally as stupid, like kiss him. “You–”

You twisted your hand in the front of his shirt and jerked him toward you, the little sachet crinkling in your fist. For a heartbeat, you were both silent, an inch away and staring as if you could will the other to be the one to press forward. But then he closed his eyes and Luke Castellan was kissing you. Like lightning and popping candy. With all the elegance of two lovestruck teenage fools and all the heat of two people who knew they had all the time in the world but still couldn’t bear to waste a second of it. His hand held you by the chin and then splayed lightly across your cheek and tucked hair softly behind your ear. You were only just reaching for the mess of curls at the back of his head when someone wolf whistles.

“My favourite.” Luke grinned, licked his lips and then turned. Hands stuffed in his pockets and a big stupid grin stretched across his face, as he shouted at you, “Stay out of trouble.”

You flip off the Aphrodite kid who’d whistled at you, and hurried back to the Apollo Cabin. You and Luke Castellan were going to need a lot more popping candy.

You’re in the lake, encased in an air bubble, sprawled out side by side with your backs against the sand, when Luke tells you what he’s done. That mere weeks before your arrival he had done the unthinkable. He had robbed the King of the Gods blind and betrayed half the Pantheon in doing so. You weren't sure whether to laugh or cry.

You had simply laid there, silently, for what had felt like aeons to Luke but maybe that had only been because he had to keep reminding himself not to hold his breath. He wasn’t drowning. You weren’t going to turn him in. He hadn’t just blown his whole plan and his life with his soulmate in one fell swoop. He just had to keep breathing and wait for you to say something. He thinks that maybe your mother had passed on some divine knack for diplomacy as Queen of the Sea with the way you seem to turn the issue of his betrayal over and over in your head.

After a while, you reach your arm toward the bubble and the sky. For a brief, terrifying moment, Luke thinks you’re going to pull the lake down on him. When you don’t Luke spends another infinite second wondering whether he would just let you do it.

He tosses the thought aside and focuses on the coin weaving between your knuckles. Like magic, it appears and disappears around the bends of your fingers but it wasn't real magic, just you fidgeting. He pressed his lips together and tried not to think about you at the bottom of the Hudson River, flipping your coin and turning over the issue of your soulmate and your brother and the camp you’d left behind. What is it you had said? You’d had plenty of time to think about those things.

Maybe that's what you need now – time. He’s about to offer it to you, offer to swim his way back to shore so you can think, even if he'd probably drown on the way. He’d give you all the time in the world if he had it.

But then you finally speak, the golden drachma rolling between your fingers, “If you hurt my brother, soulmate or not, I will kill you.”

“I am your soulmate.” He insisted as the implication made his skin itch.

“You are.” Your smile was so gentle it almost felt sad. “So you understand that my love for him comes before my hatred of the Gods. If you have put him in danger wit–”

“We get married.” He blurted. “We have a future. I woke you, when you visited me. That must mean I win.”

“It means, if that’s the path we’re even on, if those people are even the versions of us that we become… maybe you don’t hurt Percy.”

“I won’t.” He swore and you weren’t sure how to ignore the half of your soul that lies so sweetly. “I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe.” You swallowed like you’d been chewing glass your whole life, and someone had finally offered you something substantial to sink your teeth into. “Maybe if we leave now, there’s a world in which I don’t have to pick between my blood and my soul.”

Luke was quiet for a long moment, “We could recruit him. You said it yourself, he’ll be more powerful than any of us.”

“He’s twelve.”

“He’s the son of Poseidon.”

“He’s twelve.”

“You were twelve when you left to protect him.”

“And look how that turned out,” Your grin was brittle, but he swore you were still the loveliest creature he’d ever laid eyes on. “I’m sat here planning to betray everything I was raised to follow.”

“You’re going to follow me?”

Your eyes traced the shape of his jaw, his nose, his scar. You looked pained, “I fear I would follow you into much worse, Luke Castellan.”

“I’m trying to lead you to something better.” He reached for your hand, took the drachma from your fingers, and pressed a slow, soft kiss to your palm. He smiled and there were dimples in his cheeks and tears in his eyes as he whispered, “We can try for better.”

“Leave Percy.” You pressed your fingers to his cheek, “Let him come to camp, let him join us when he’s ready.”

“You’re sure he’ll join us?”

“He will, I know it. We just need to let him see the Gods’ apathy for himself.” And you sighed. Luke wondered how many lifetimes your souls had seen, how many times you had searched for each other, how many times you had been torn apart. You sound ancient when you say, “You and I have seen more than enough.”

He turned his head and whispered in the scarce distance between you, “What do you propose?”

“We leave. As soon as anyone catches on, we take anyone who agrees with us and flee.” You brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his knuckles firmly, “We can plot your revenge and plan my new world on the way.”

Luke feels ancient when he promises, “Okay, on the way then.”

But he swears, as you lean forward and kiss him, that no matter how many times you do it this lifetime or in all the lifetimes until this story – of you and Luke Castellan – became ancient, it would still never stop feeling like the first time.

Like lightning and popping candy.

Tag List:

@emelia07 @star611 @7s3ven @kissingyourgrl @myxticmoon @shermanno @moonsficrec @soleilgrec

#luke castellan x reader #soulmate au #luke castellan #pjo luke #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo show #percy jackson show #pjo #percy jackson #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fanfiction

448 notes · View notes

awritesthings1 · 8 months

Text

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: You ask your husband Tommy if he believes in ghosts. The answer might surprise you.

Warnings: dark, angst, spooky.

ao3 link

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

It was near the end of winter, and another autumn of earl grey teas and tireless raking of crunchy leaves was fast approaching Arrow House. Tommy’s peaky cap lived on the coat hanger by the front door, dusted in the faint smell of smog. Gone was the silver razor; the Shelby’s were much too respectable for that anymore. In came the monogram initials, all of which had been carefully handstitched onto cuffs and collars to match golden cufflinks, and out came the fine woolen overcoats.

The weather lay thickly that year over the English countryside, enough to invoke a ghostly mist around the trimmed hedges and shorn grass. A stillness crept in as sly as a cat when the fog came down, covering all life with a sheer dew. The garden retired into a dull combination of cool greens and toe-curling crystal air.

It was at this time of year that the monsters came out to play in their ominously shaped shadows and faint howls. Where there was a tick of movement, an airy silence and childhood fear followed. Tommy would have teased you endlessly for your paranoia if he hadn’t suffered through the same fate after the war. You supposed he had more of a right than you because his fears came from a very real place, and yours were out of superstition.

“Spirits,” Tommy clarified. “Yes, it’s in my blood.”

“But have you ever seen one?”

Tommy turns his head to look at you, squeezing you closer to his chest from where you both lay under the covers.

“Why’d you ask?” His accent was thicker in the morning.

If anyone knew anything about spirits, it would be your husband. He was more superstitious than you due to his gypsy blood. The things he told you about the community were nothing short of witchcraft—charming dogs, telling fortunes, and cursing wrong'uns. It puzzled you at first that your seemingly pragmatic, calculating husband believed nothing short of Madame Boswell’s words as nothing but gospel.

You stared out the window, attempting to conjure up the right words, but shivered instead when his fingers ghosted across your back.

“Well… I don’t know. I don’t think I would believe in something until I saw it for sure with my own two eyes.”

He hummed and smiled lazily. “Why do people believe in God, hm?”

You pressed your lips together and shrugged as best you could in his embrace.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Eh?”

“Have you ever seen a spirit?"

Tommy’s eyes glazed over in thought. It was the answer you dreaded.

“Yes.”

“Were you scared?”

He blinked out of the daze.

“No.”

Your hand moved to rest on the cusp of his cheek.

“What happened?”

He cleared his throat and laced his hand with yours there on his face.

“I was nine. Madame Lovell’s nephew drowned in a lake the day before, and then on the day of the funeral, it rained. I was running back from over the hill when I saw him. He stood there staring at me through the spray of rain.”

Your thumb swiped over the tops of Tommy’s cheekbones.

“You’re certain? Maybe the rain got in your eye, and what you saw was a shadow or maybe even an eyelash in your eye. That happens to me sometimes.”

“I know what I saw.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, then tried to picture the scene for yourself. You stood atop some grassy hill, peering down into the valley. Dark plumes of smoke rose from a small coffin stationed at the bottom of the hill, slivering up through the wildflowers and tree branches to where you stood. Then there, through the smoke and rainfall that blinded your eyes, was the boy who drowned.

“Was he scared?”

A pause, then: “no.”

That night, you settled by your vanity, combing out knots and patting lotion onto your skin. The haunted look of that boy Tommy said he saw lingered in the back of your mind, and every vague shape or shadow shifted in the corner of your eye. Paranoia—that's all it was. You didn’t want to be caught staring at a dark corner like some half-mad crook. Tommy would be crossing the threshold into your room any moment now. Maybe if his last-minute business hadn’t held him up in his office, he would be here with you now, and you wouldn’t be glancing over at that suspicious coat hanging up by the wardrobe. The lamps that were lit didn’t stretch far enough to illuminate the monsters from their hiding spots.

It was a trick of the brain, that’s all.

And surely enough, Tommy’s footsteps were heard down the hall. Your shoulders slumped in relief. The autumn season was only one for the dramatics.

Your hand cream pot clattered onto the vanity, swirling in circles until it came to a stop just as you heard Tommy outside the door. But when you stood to greet him with a kiss, the door to your bedroom remained closed, and the doorhandle remained still.

“You can come in!" You laughed, but a sort of coldness seized your heart with terror when you wondered why Tommy was just standing there on the other side.

“Tommy?” You inquired after a painfully thin stretch of silence.

Again, nothing.

You reached for your comb, holding the long, sharp piece you used to part your hair out like a knife. You weren’t naïve. Tommy had enemies, opportunistic ones, too.

And so you stood there, straining to hear any noise beyond your heartbeat that thundered in your ears. You tried slowing your breathing to hear better, but your eyes then began to water from the strain and your refusal to blink. Then it happened, as abruptly as you imagined. The door burst open. Tommy rushed in, slammed the door shut behind him, and stormed over to the closet without so much a look in your direction.

“Tommy?” You squawked, still seized in terror.

He grunted, shrugging on his overcoat and snatching his leather gloves from the tallboy.

“What’s going on?”

Finally, he paused. His eyes were bloodshot and far away. You feared he looked through you rather than at you. He came closer then, pulling you into his arms and laying a warm kiss on your temple.

“Everything’s ok, darling.”

“Where are you going?” Your voice broke. “Did something happen?”

“No…” He hushed. “No.”

“Then where are you going? It’s still dark outside!”

He sighed into your disheveled hair, then pulled away.

“I need to check on one of the horses. Get into bed; I’ll be back soon.”

You clutched his lapels in protest. “No!”

He said your name sternly: “I really need to go. Frances is in her room if you need anything.”

“Tommy, I heard something!” Then, you lowered your voice so only he could hear, “I think someone’s in the house.”

He pulled you in by the scruff of your neck. “No one’s here, love. It’s just us and Frances.”

His boots thud severely against the wooden floor to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Begrudgingly, you let him leave and confined yourself to the bed, pulling the covers over your face like a small child afraid of the dark. You left all the lights on, determined to let any intruders know that yes, you were home, and yes, you would see them coming. Tommy would be back soon, and if Tommy didn’t suspect anything amiss, he was probably right.

But the grandfather clock in the other room kept ticking, tick tick tick, and little fairies scampered about in the garden below. The moon’s solemn gaze glared judgingly through the windows, past the squinting shutters, and onto your skin. Ink from family portraits bled into one horrifying mess of shadows. You threw back the hungry covers, which seemed to be swallowing you whole, and knocked your shoulder into the jaw of the door (you had mistaken it for being further than it really was). A teacup flew off a shelf, but you dodged it with one ugly turn of your ankle.

Then you ran down the winding stairs, through the narrowing hallway, and out the chattering front doors of Arrow House. A lustrous mist had fallen over the land, thick enough that your arms whipped around senselessly, blinded by the clouded night, in your attempt to trek to the stables.

The stable gates were banging back and forth by the time you reached them. They whack your behind when you pass them, and you would’ve cried if it weren’t for the airy atmosphere peeling the moisture from your eyes.

“Tommy!”

A clack of hooves answered you.

Your feet burned despite the bitter cold, swelling with each step. Still in your nightgown, the elements worked together, clawing, scratching, and biting at your bare skin. The swell of a draft caught the tip of your nose, and you whipped around just in time to see a coat disappearing around the back of the stable where the paddock was.

Fear acted like a glaze of sweltering iron, hissing the rhythm out of your heart.

“I can see you!” You tried to warn as if you were the hunter and not the hunted.

Leather hands wrapped around your shoulders from behind.

“Are you insane, eh?” Tommy’s gruff voice scolded in your ear.

You turned around to crumple into his embrace.

“Tommy, something’s not right about this house.”

“Is that why you’re out here? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

It could have been a ghost, a careful soulless thing—a soundless haunting memory with no cause for action, warping around the edges of reality. It was then a great whipping lash of winter lakes and violent snowflakes cut into the lines of your knuckles and sliced beneath your skin.

Your lips moved sometime after that, or maybe it was before; you couldn’t remember. Nothing seemed to make sense. The man in the moon wound away your surroundings one by one, like a fisherman with his catch on a hook.

“What?”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what, Tommy?”

Silence held a knife to your neck.

“Out in the paddock..." His dark, long eyelashes brushed earnestly along his high-cut cheekbones, and you feared the thought that had seemingly paralyzed your husband from saying any more. If it weren’t already dark, a shadow might’ve passed over his features.

A fountain of words prepared to gush out, but you slipped on a puddle that appeared around your feet. You stepped back with a gasp. It wasn’t raining.

“I’m sorry, my love. I should’ve listened to you.”

The puddle kept growing. Words turned into water.

“What the fuck is happening, Tommy?"

His thumb brushed the apple of your cheek.

“I’ll avenge you. I will.”

You cried.

“Shhh, don’t be afraid, darling." Tommy kissed your ice-cold forehead.

You choked. Water: water pooled out of your mouth and suffocated your lungs. You couldn't breathe.

“Go back to bed for me, eh?”

All over your nightgown—water, water, water.

The horse trough out in the paddock, the goldfish swimming past your cheek, straw in your teeth, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, no response, no one, the weight of a hand tangling in your hair, air, air, air, no air.

Drip, drip, drip.

Water in your eyes, ears, nose, mouth—

You never saw them coming.

“I promise, love. I’ll get the bastards that…”

He choked as if he were also choking on water, water, water.

“I never saw them coming, Tommy,” you hiccupped, but it was all water, water, water—

“I know.”

Gurgling.

“I just wanted to find you.”

“I know, I know.”

They pinned your arms back.

“The fucking water trough, Tommy!”

He swallowed painfully.

You couldn’t see him anymore. His face had washed away in your straw, goldfish, blood, water, water, water, tears. Blindly, you traced under his eyes and felt his salty, grief, widowed, water tears.

There’s so much tears and sorrow there in that stable that it begins pouring from outside and through the roof. Most days it was in the paddock, but tonight it was here.

Frances, the housekeeper, watched from her window. On these types of nights, when Arrow House became entrapped in a spell and rain drizzled over the countryside, Thomas Shelby would squelch across the overgrown grass to the paddock behind the stable before disappearing. Where he went, she didn’t know. The hazy sheet of mist left much to the imagination. What he saw out there? She didn’t know either. The poor bastard probably just missed his wife.

Frances briefly left her room to peer into Mr. Shelby’s. Letting out a sigh of relief, the room appeared untouched, still frozen in the state Mrs. Shelby left it when she went out to find her husband that tragic night. The sheets were still tossed aside, the teacup still shattered on the ground, her comb still waiting on the bedside table.

Satisfied with her findings, she turned to leave when—

What’s that?

A puddle.

There must be a leak somewhere.

Oh well, she’ll see to it in the morning.

With that, she quietly crept away to her room and fell back asleep, undisturbed by the chattering shutters or creaking floorboards. Not even the ghostly cries down the hall woke her.

After all, there was no such thing as ghosts, only things that went bump in the night.

Taglist: @maliceofwonderland , @fairytale07 , @goblinjnr , @ilovepeoplesdads , @multidimensionalslut , @blogforficslol

403 notes · View notes