#His humming voice is so soothing compared to his normal voice

[nonovyabuisness]

He started humming so I had to dedicate a few minutes of my life for him.

This guy is amazing.

[lulunothulu]

“What’s wrong, dear?”

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake knows something’s wrong so he makes it his life’s mission to 1. Make it better and 2. Find out what’s wrong.

Content: 18+ ONLY, sad boi hours, soft Jake, FLUFF, cuddling turned into cock warming, p in v sex, unprotected sex.

Masterlist here 💗🤠

Jake had a pretty normal day at work. Nothing compared to the week before, but still pretty okay.

He’d just parked in the driveway, sighing as he finally sees his home. Y’all’s home.

Texas flag hanging proudly on a hook out front, white picket fence closing intruders out of y’all’s space.

The house itself wasn’t anything special, just a bungalow by the beach. What made it special was you. The warmth and light you brought in with just a smile could’ve lit the whole house.

That’s why when he enters the house and finds nothing but darkness and silence, he knows something’s wrong.

Kicking off his boots at the entryway, Jake looks around the house for any signs of you.

Your purse is on the table by the door, keys along with it. Your shoes, required for any Naval Medic, lined by his own boots. Your uniform shirt was neatly thrown on the couch a little walks away from the front door, pants in tow.

You were never home before he was, only on rare occasions so that didn’t throw him off. What threw him off was in the distance, Jake heard soft sniffles coming from your room.

Carefully, Jake padded toward the room, worry increasing deep in his chest.

“Darlin’?” He drawled, pushing the door to y’all’s bedroom open.

Curled up on the bed you lay, soft sniffles filling Jake’s ears.

Instantly, Jake is by your side. To hell with showering, you were all he needed to focus on.

“Baby?” He soothes your head, brushing your hair back and away from your face. Your face was splotchy, eyes rimmed red and lips puffy from crying.

“What’s wrong, dear?” he asks, patiently waiting for your sweet voice to respond.

But you don’t.

You just lay there, staring beyond you, eyes emotionless.

Fear began to creep into Jake’s mind. He knew you’d seen some things on your last deployment, but you never spoke of it. He could only imagine you were having another PTSD episode. The last one being a few months ago.

Wrapping his strong arms around your form, Jake nuzzles his face into your neck. “Darlin’, you gotta tell me what’s bothering you…please?”

Again, nothing.

Jake’s mind begins to race, he hated seeing you so low. He had to do something to make you feel better, but before he could even do that he had to figure out what was going on.

“Baby, is this about your deployment?” He asks softly.

You shake your head, no.

Jake sits up, looking down at you again. Life creeps back into your eyes but you’re still staring off beyond you.

Okay, so it wasn’t whatever happened during your deployment.

“Is it work?” He asks.

You sigh before croaking, “No.”

The sound of your voice was like music to his ears. He breathed a sigh of relief at that, thinking of his next best thing to ask.

“Are you just having a bad day?”

When you nod and hum a ‘mhmm’, Jake almost rejoices. He’d finally gotten an answer. Now to cheer you up.

“Tell me what happened today,” he half orders, half asks. “C’mon, talk to me baby.”

You turn to face him, finally resting those beautiful eyes on his sage green ones.

Jake wipes a tear that falls from your eyes, patiently waiting for your response.

He watches as you take a shaky breath before you finally spill.

“It started this morning,” you recounted.

——— This morning ———

You were already running late.

Your alarm hasn’t woken you up and while Jake’s alarms—yes plural alarms—usually do the trick for you, you were so tired from the day before, you barley felt when he kissed you goodbye.

By the time you were dressed and out the door, you were running ten minutes late.

You sprint into the hospital where you worked, smiling as your supervisor, Captain Holt, raised a bushy brow at you.

“You’re ten minutes late,” he states.

“I know, sir,” you say at attention. “My alarms didn’t go off.”

“Hmm,” he hums, looking you up and down. “Since you’re never late, I’ll let you off with a warning. But do not let it happen again, Lieutenant Seresin.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” You reply, saluting when he dismisses you and walking to your station.

You sigh, realizing your forgot coffee this morning so you go to the break room to grab a cup before you settle back into your station.

However, after you made a cup, you’re bumped into on the way back to your station. Coffee spills down the front of your uniform shirt as you mentally scream.

“Watch where you’re going,” you yell at whoever just bumped into you.

You turn around to see a Petty Officer with wide eyes stare back at you.

“I’m so sorry, Lieutenant!” She cries, standing at attention and saluting you. “There’s a trauma coming in and Lieutenant Briggs said to grab some—”

“It’s fine, just don’t let it happen again,” you tell her. “Wait, a trauma so early in the morning?”

“Yes, one of the Aviators had an accident,” she tells you. “It’s sounds really bad.”

The only thing you can think of is Jake. Your mind was whirling, praying to whatever God that’ll listen, begging for it not to be Jake.

“Was it a male or female?” You ask.

“Wha—”

“Answer the question!” You order.

“A f-female,” she tells you.

Heart starting to slow, you nod. “Alright, go ahead, Petty Officer…” you glance down at her name tag. “Vincent.”

You go back into the break room after she scurries away, grabbing the backup shirt you keep for times like this and choke down a sob.

It could’ve been Jake. But it wasn’t.

You take the deep breaths your therapist showed you how to do to calm yourself and wipe away any lingering tears before making another coffee and finally making it to your station.

Hours later, it’s three hours before the end of your shift when you respond to another trauma. This time a male who no one can recognize. In the back of your mind, you can hear yourself say, “It’s Jake this time. It’s Jake.”

After a few rounds of CPR, the aviator is pronounced dead, sending you into a panic. When a nurse tells you the name of the aviator though, you have to excuse yourself.

It wasn’t Jake, but it could’ve been him. God knows he’s got a cockiness to his flying ability.

You’d told him multiple times he has to fly safer. Especially after what happened with his last back seater. Even more after that last mission when he saved Pete and Bradley, you’d almost broken down in thanks that he came back home.

You knew the risks in being married to an Aviator, but with the things you saw at work and again on your deployment almost two years ago…you couldn’t help but think negatively every time a trauma came in.

“Seresin?” You hear your colleague, Lieutenant Casey, say. Her voice traveling to your ears in the quiet locker room.

You sniffle, wiping your eyes dry with the back of your palm. “Hey, sorry. I just needed some time to catch my breath.”

You look up at her from where you sit, knees to your chest.

“Hey, I talked to the Captain,” she starts, voice soft and soothing. “He said you can go home early. I’ll cover your patients.”

“Are you sure?” You ask feeling the tears threaten to reappear.

“Of course,” she tells you. She had lost her wife, an aviator, years ago and knew what it was like to worry. “You go home, meet your husband when he gets back.”

You thank her, hugging her tightly before grabbing your things and going home.

——— Now ———

“So I came home, and out your clothes on,” you tell Jake. “I wanted to be close to you.”

Jake’s heart ached for you. He couldn’t imagine what you were feeling and he mentally kicked himself in the balls for ever making you worry.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he tells you, smoothing your hair back. “I have been flying a bit more carefully now so you don’t worry so much.”

You smile up at him and he can feel the worry he once felt disappear in the instant your lips formed the smile.

“Good,” you hiccup.

“Is there anything I can do to do?” Jake asks, willing to do anything and everything to make things better for you today.

You scrunch you nose and sniff. “You can go shower before you stink up the bed and then come cuddle me.”

Jake laughs at that, kissing your forehead before whispering, “I’ll be right back.”

Jake showers, scrubbing the jet fuel and grime from the day off his body and sighing. He was glad you tips him what happened and why you were so upset. He couldn’t wait to get out of the shower to hold you in his arms.

While he couldn’t wait, he made sure to scrub himself clean twice…just in case.

Walking back into y’all’s room, Jake smiles when he sees you’ve taken off the sweats you were wearing—now only in his shirt and your underwear— and eyeing him with hungry eyes.

He quickly grabs a pair of boxer briefs, not bothering with a shirt before climbing into bed. He takes you into his arms, letting your leg fall onto his legs and wrap around one. You place a hand on his lightly hairy chest and sigh.

“What is it, Darlin’?” He asks.

“You’re not close enough,” you tell him.

Jake chuckles, as you nuzzle your face into his neck, feeling you breathe him in.

“What do you suppose you need?” he asks, knowing where this might lead.

“Can I lay on top of you?” You ask.

“You don’t even need to ask.” Jake pulls you onto him, your body warm and legs opening to straddle him.

Your head is on his chest, belly right on top of his semi hard-on. He places his hands on the small of your back, lightly rubbing circles with the tip of his fingers. Almost as he predicted, you scoot higher, face now in his hair by his ear—and you begin nibbling on his lobe.

He groans into your hair, sniffling the sweet scent of your shampoo and hands trailing down to your ass, squeezing softly. When he feels the warmness of your ever growing wet cunt, Jake has to remind himself that he’s meant to be making you feel better.

Sex shouldn’t be on his mind…but then you grind on him.

“Darlin’,” he starts, licking his lips. “What do you need? Use your words.”

You pull away from his ear, looking down at him with those sultry eyes you only use when you’re wanting to get your way.

“I want you inside me,” you tell him.

Jake’s heart—and dick—was pulsing. It’s taking everything in him not to just take you right then and there. But he was a gentleman—for the most part—and he needed to wait for further instructions.

“Anything you want, my love,” he replies.

“But…” And there was the catch. “I only want to warm your cock.”

Jake swallows, it’s been a while since you cock-warmed him. That turned into hardcore sex, but that was another day.

This was now, and you were in need of intimacy. There would be no fucking tonight.

At least, that’s what he told himself to keep calm.

Jake nods at you, watching as you crawl off him and remove the soft fabric from your hips so slowly, he thought you were moving in slow motion.

But no.

You were doing it on purpose. The little smirk on your face said it all.

Jake stripped the boxers off his body, his cock flinging from his enclosure and beckoning you closer.

Painfully, you slowly climb back onto the bed, Jake’s shirt still on and nipples pebbled. You straddle Jake’s hips, your warm cunt flush with his extremely hard erection, and lean down to kiss him for the first time since he got home.

The kiss is soft but passionate on its own—barely a whisper of a peck.

Jake is fighting for his life. It’s taking everything in him not to line himself to your entrance and pull you down onto him.

You’re being a good husband right now. Calm down.

Jake watches as you pull away, one hand on his chest the other grabbing his cock and guiding the tip into your pussy.

He groans when the tip of him is finally inside you, vowing not to move until—and if—you wanted him to.

You, in turn, look down at him. Pride and love radiating from those beautiful eyes of yours as you take the rest of his cock, sighing at the way he fills you up completely.

You lay back down on Jake’s chest, him wrapping his arms you again and tracing down your back to your plump ass.

He feels you clench around him and sucks in a breath.

“Are you okay, baby?” You ask, blinking up at him with innocent eyes.

“Mhmm,” Jake mutters. “Never better.”

Jake feels you smile into his chest as you kiss his collarbone and neck.

“What?” You tease. “Did I do something?”

You knew exactly what it was doing to him and he was loving it…for the most part.

Jake looks down at you, finding you already smiling up at him from behind your lashes as you place a kiss on his chest.

Jake’s body was burning, no, itching to move. He willed his hips to buck into you, to free him from your torment.

But he wouldn’t. Not until you gave him the okay.

“Did I,” you start, clenching around him again. “Do something?”

Jake groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head and bottom lip between his teeth.

“You know,” he starts, stopping to suck in another breath and groan when you clench again. “Exactly what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

You smile up at him and he swears he can see pure mischief behind them.

This is what he got for marrying a woman who matched his freak.

You sit up, fully taking him again. He watches as you remove his shirt and toss it to the side of the bed, eyes solely on him.

You lean in, pulling Jake about halfway out, before kissing him.

Your lips were like heaven to him, sweet and pillow soft against his thin ones. Your bare chest pressed against his own, warming him up more than he already was.

When you begin to move your hips, Jake’s eyes to the back of head, soft moans escaping his lips and crashing into yours.

You smile, working your magic and hips you slowly allow him to enter and exit you.

“Does my cunt feel nice?” You ask against his lips and Jake nearly chokes.

“Fuck yes baby,” he responds, squeezing your ass.

You moan as his touch and buck your hips a bit faster, pure fire and pleasure erupting into Jake’s stomach.

“How much do you love me?” you ask him.

Good God, you were going to kill him with that sweet voice of yours.

“I love you so much,” Jake replies, squeezing your ass even harder.

“Good,” you smile. “Do you want to move?”

Jake only nods, eyes wide and on yours. He watches as you smile, slowing your pace and leaning in so close, he can feel your breath on his ear.

“Do you want permission to move, Aviator?”

God, yes. Jake nods.

You click your tongue, pulling him out completely. Jake whines, pushing down on your ass to press you on him again. But you keep away, his dick tickling your belly.

“Use your words,” you command.

Jake swallows, eyes squeezing before locking on yours again. Pure burning desire leaks out of them and he watches as you squirm under his dark gaze.

“Please let me fuck you,” he says, deep and loud, just how he knows you like it.

The look on your face tells him you’re about to sink back into him when you bite your bottom lip and smirk, nodding fiercely.

Jake moves to action, flipping you on your back and lining himself back up to your still soaking cunt. He smiles down at you, pushing only the tip into your tight entrance and watching your eyes widen in pleasure.

“Now it’s my turn,” he says darkly.

You smile up and him and Jake nearly combusts at the way your lashes flutter.

“Tell me how deep you want me,” he orders.

“All the way in baby,” you tell him.

“How deep is that?” He smirks.

You’re about to answer when he fills you completely, stretching you until his whole cock rests inside you. Your mouth opens, an O forming on your pretty lips.

“Good girl,” Jake starts, pumping into you slowly then faster when he feels you relax around him. “Taking my cock like such a good wife.”

Your moans fill the room, causing Jake to buck into you, tip to base. He knows he’s hitting the right spot when your eyes squeeze shut and you begin whispering his name.

���Keep those pretty eyes on me,” he orders, watching as your eyes fly open. “And say my name louder, scream it if you must.”

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“I don’t think that’s my name, Sweetheart.” Jake chuckles.

“Fuck Jake!” You moan.

“There it is. You sound so fucking pretty when you moan my name.”

As if on cue, you moan his name again, practically babbling and repeating it over and over again.

“Jake, Jake, Jake!” You moan, tits bouncing at the jolting Jake was putting them through.

“Are you close, my sweets?” He asks, rubbing his thumb against your clit and feeling your clench around him.

“I’m so fucking close,” you scream. “I’m gonna come!”

“No,” he orders. “You wait for me. Be a good girl and wait for me.”

You’re a mess beneath him, nails scraping his chest and legs, eyes wild and pleading to come.

He wouldn’t let you, not until he felt—

Jake’s vision began to blur, he was tasting stars at this point and he knew he was just about ready to burst.

“Now, baby! Come with me babygirl!” He orders.

With your eyes still on his, Jake feels you begin to spasm and orgasm, his coming along side yours.

You both ride the waves of your orgasm, breathing heavily and chests pounding.

Jake bucks his hips, spilling himself inside you before slowly stopping, forehead touching yours.

Kissing you deeply, he slowly pulls out of you hearing you groan against his lips.

He quickly pulls away, grabbing a washcloth before helping you clean yourself up and carrying you to the shower.

Jake washes you, carefully massaging your swollen cunt before rinsing you and washing himself quickly.

He wraps you in a towel, pay drying you the way you’d taught him years ago, and then drying himself as you watch from the counter.

Once he was dry, he dressed you in his favorite Texas Longhorns shirt and underwear before getting himself dressed and quickly changing the sheets.

He lays you in bed before climbing in himself, arms wrapping around your body again.

“Jake,” you whisper.

“Yes, my love?”

“I love you so much,” you tell him. “Thank you for making my day better.”

Jake smiles into your neck, kissing you lightly before responding, “I love you too, Y/N. And I’ll always be here to make your day better.”

He falls asleep to the sounds of your breathing and soft hums of delight and contentment.

Mission accomplished.

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere Royal Gay AU pt 8

Part 7 is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more.

You didn't want to open your eyes.

You had woken up a while ago and realised you were back home when you heard your father's voice. He was singing to you, more humming than actually saying the words but... you recognised the lullaby. It was something he used to hum to you when you were sick or couldn't sleep as a child.

It was incredibly personal, one of the few memories that you cherished with him.

So why did he have to do it in front of Keigo?

It took every fibre in your being to not get up and strangle him while pulling his eyeballs out.

"You have a soothing voice." Keigo whispered from your side, brushing your hair with his hand, while you clawed the sheets from under the covers.

Dabi smiled, feeling perfectly content now that he had his most precious treasures in front of him, safe and sound. "How are you feeling now? Do your wings still hurt?"

"Not as much. Emperor Kai's healers did their magic. I'll be flying again in no time." Keigo sighed as he looked at you. "Its her I'm more worried about, Dabi."

"Why? Kai already healed any minor injuries she had-"

"Physically, yes, she's healed. But what about mentally?"

"What about it?" Dabi pushed, eyes narrowing. Keigo sat up straighter. "Dabi, regardless of what AFO did or that you saved her-" "we saved her, Keigo." "- right. Regardless, she... she will be affected by all of it. That was her mother's homeland, her people, and AFO was her grandfather. You and I both know Y/n isnt one to just- just hate anyone or hold grudges. She'll be crushed by AFO's death, or all those villagers deaths. I mean, you did see how she reacted to Tomura's death-"

"That's enough." Dabi snapped, voice barely containing the rage he felt. "You will never speak of those names again, Keigo. What happened to them, what I did to them- it was a kindness! A mercy compared to the punishment that they deserved and would've gotten if it weren't for Y/n being there."

"But Y/n-"

"We will take care of Y/n. You and me, together will help her forget about those traitorous bastards and everything will return to normal." Dabi closed his eyes, pausing before opening them again. "We are all that she needs, Keigo. Now more than ever."

The blonde smiled softly before moving off the bed and over to Dabi, the latter gently pulling the blonde into his lap, hands cautiously settling on the base of his wings.

"I never doubt you, Dabi." Keigo whispered as he kissed him. "I trust you with my life, and Y/n's." Dabi smiled against his lips. He adored how protective Keigo was over you, and he's the only one who is allowed to be possessive over you.

"I know, love." Dabi murmured, tightening his grip on the blonde's hips when he tried to move. "Where are you going?"

"Gonna make something for Y/n to eat."

"The kitchen staff-"

"-will mess it up,I just know it. Just let me handle this Dabi. I'll be back soon, hm?"

Dabi sighed. "Dont take too long." He watched him leave before turning back towards you, taking your hand in his as he resumed humming the lullaby.

He traced his thumb over your wrists, staring at it absentmindedly as his mind went back to the events of the battlefield, heart swelling up with joy at his victory over AFO and his entire kingdom. His lips quirked up slightly as he recalled the screams of the people burning.

They deserved it.

They deserved it and so much more for what they did to you, for taking away his one and only child and torturing you in god knows what horrendous way they came up with.

Isn't that why you looked so miserable and devastated at the battlefield?

Dabi's eyes flicked to your face, widening when they met your own.

You were awake.

"Y/n!" Dabi squeezed your hand before getting up to sit on your bed. Taking your face in his hands as he looked at you with concern. "I- are you okay? How are you feeling now?"

Hollow eyes stared at him, your mouth remained sealed shut as you looked at him. But just before it creeped Dabi, you blinked and then tears started to fall down your face.

Dabi immediately (but gently) pulled you to his chest, practically sitting you in his lap like a child, arms wrapping themselves around you like a warm cocoon to calm you down as he continued to look down at you with even more worry when great sobs racked your body.

"Y/n? Oh baby- its okay, its okay! You're fine." He pulled your face away from his chest, cradling your face in his hands as his thumbs wiped away the tears from your cheeks. "No one is mad at you. I am not mad at you, more concerned is all. When you went missing, I- I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead and it hurt, Y/n. It hurt me that you died hating your father, and I never want that. I just-" Dabi closes his eyes and sighs before opening them. "I dont blame you for your actions. You ran away because of me, and while that may not have been the wisest decision, I understand and... I forgive you. You were misled by people you trusted, and they paid for their actions. Now, I want us to start anew again. Put everything behind us and become a happy family again. You, me and Keigo, together against the world, hm? How does that sound?" You all but wailed louder at the mention of that whore's name, but Dabi just percieved it as you being overwhelmed and pulled you tighter against his chest.

With one hand rubbing circles in your back while the other was carded in your hair, Dabi kissed your temple, smiling softly as you cried hard into him.

"Its okay. Let it all out, Y/n. I've got you, baby. I've got you."

And I'm never letting go. Ever.

-

Dabi left once you'd calmed down, saying that he was going to inform Keigo that you were finally awake. You of course, would rather gouge out your eyes than meet that murderer, but that idea was thrown out the window when your nanny knocked on your door, Inko looking visibly surprised to see you awake.

She all but rushed over to hug you, tears falling from her eyes as she pulled away from you suddenly, bowing her head as she apologised for touching you. You smiled sadly before opening up your arms, and Inko hugged you again. She was allowed to drop royal protocol, the woman had practically raised you.

A few minutes later and you heard Keigo and Dabi walking in the hallway. You pulled away from Inko and told her to tell them that you were taking a bath.

"Please! Just tell them you drew me a bath, I- I-" Inko didn't need to be told twice as she ushered you towards the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind her, right in time for Dabi and Keigo to barge in.

"Where is she?! Where's Y/n?" Keigo asked, whipping his around for you, as if you'd be hiding somewhere. Inko bowed, greeting the two men, raising her head only to see Keigo looking at her impatiently and Dabi raising a brow at her.

"Well?"

"The princess is taking a bath, your Majesty. I had recommended it to help heal her wounds better-" She began lying, but Dabi cut her off.

"Let me know when she's ready. Dress her in soft clothes, I want her to be comfortable. You will take care of it, hm?" Dabi ordered, and Inko bowed her head in obedience.

"Of course, your Majesty."

"Come on, Keigo. She'll be back soon. Why don't you continue making her lunch? We'll all eat here." Dabi suggested, his hand on Keigo's back guiding him out of the room.

You sighed as you heard them leave, closing your eyes as it dawned that you had escaped facing Keigo but only momentarily.

Inko entered the bath, smiling apologetically as she knew that you didn't like Keigo.

"I'll draw you a bath, princess. Why don't you wait on the bed, hm?" You nodded, going to sit on your bed just as someone else knocked on the door.

You nodded at Inko and she opened the door to see who it was before harshly whispering at someone to leave.

"Who is it?" You asked, standing up. Inko looked back at you apologetically before pushing the door open and revealing-

"Izuku." You whispered. Your childhood best friend was wearing his Knight armour as he beamed brightly at you.

"Princess." He greeted. "May I come in?" He asked only to be whacked on his head by his mom. "Izuku! She's busy and besides, the Princess needs to rest-"

"Its alright, Inko. He can come in." You nodded, as the woman let out a sigh of relief before going back to drawing you the bath.

Izuku walked towards you and you motioned for him to sit down next to you on the bed. "Its been a while." He started. You hummed. "It has. And I'm sorry."

Izuku gave you a quizzical look. "What for?"

"For how I treated you before I left." You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers. "For snapping at you. That was uncalled for-"

Izuku grabbed your hands, his large rough ones engulfing yours. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Y/n." You shook your head. "I want to." You whispered, as your voice turned wobbly. "I don't want to lose- I cant- T-Tomura-" Izuku pulled you into a hug before your tears could fall. He patted your back and hushed you. "Shh, you won't lose me. I promise, I won't go anywhere."

-

You sat on your bed uncomfortably with Keigo and Dabi in the room. The maids had brought up a small table and chairs with food to your room, since Dabi thought it'd be best to dine here while you rest. You however, can't rest as long as that murderer is in the room.

Sure, Dabi killed your grandfather and killed many of the villagers, but you could see where he was coming from. Your father's reaction was somewhat reasonable since his daughter, his only heir, was kidnapped and he didn't know whether you were being tortured or dead. And you can see it however you want, but deep down you blame Keigo for AFO's death.

You blame him for the villagers deaths.

You blame him for your mother's death.

You blame him for Tomura's death.

"How's your soup?" Dabi asked.

"Its good." You said without looking up from your plate, just like the past 20 minutes. You can't bare to bring yourself to look up at him, unsure if your heart will break more at the sight of him whoring to your dad or if you'll end up raging and kill him on the spot.

"Of course it is. Keigo made it himself for you." Dabi locked eyes with the blonde, who blushed. "Dont you wanna say thank you?"

Here we go again.

There was a audible shift in the energy of the room. The tension could be cut with a knife, as Dabi once again forced you to interact with Keigo.

Keigo leaned towards the king. "Dabi, I don't think that's necessary-"

"Thank you." You said, finally looking up and directly at Keigo, a small courteous smile on your lips. "It tastes delicious. Thank you for going out of your way for me."

Keigo's mouth parted in shock, this was- this was the first time you looked at him with genuine respect- talked to him nicely. Even Dabi was surprised at your change in behaviour, he didn't expect you to actually be grateful, maybe spat out a forced thanks with a grimace but not this, not you actually finishing the bowl of soup.

"I- oh, it's no trouble. I'm glad you liked it." Keigo managed to say, looking at Dabi with confusion, but the king only grinned.

He was glad you were coming around, beyond happy that you were going to turn over a new leaf with him.

It's about time.

Just then, a guard came in, apologising for interrupting but requesting the king's attention for an urgent matter.

Dabi left, promising to return soon with letters from Enji and grandma Rei, and his siblings.

Keigo cleared his throat as the two of you were left alone. "Oh, you finished your soup! I'll give you some more- oh, where are you going?" He asked, watching you peel the covers away and get off the bed. "To the bathroom? Let me help you-" He moved to grab your hand but you snatched it away, before continuing to move to the bathroom.

You didn't close the door behind you, perhaps you wanted him to follow you if you fell or something. But when you got on your knees in front of the toilet bowl and locked eyes with him, Keigo knew he wasn't going to like what he was about to see.

In the next second, you had shoved fingers down your throat and gagged until you induced vomiting, emptying your stomach out.

Keigo rushed towards you, eyes wide in horror as he asked why did you do that. But you didn't answer him. Instead, you called out to Inko (who intentionally pushed Keigo away from you when she saw you on the floor, looking faint and out of breath).

"Princess! Are you alright? Should I get the physician?" You shook your head.

"No, just- just had some disgusting soup that made me sick. Could you- could you do me favour and get rid of it? I swear, just the smell of it in my room is making me lurch again." You commented while looking at Keigo.

Inko only nodded as she helped you back in bed before taking out all the food in your room, but not before asking Keigo to leave.

"My apologies, sir, but I think it'd be best to let the princess rest for now." She said, not sounding sorry at all, practically blocking his view of you as she stood in front of him, eyes staring into him boldly.

Had Keigo not been shocked by your actions, he would've had smacked her across the face for such blatant disrespect.

But Keigo left silently. He needed to process what just happened.

-

Two more weeks passed by, and you had received many letters from your loved ones and friends. Your father was still far too paranoid or perhaps it was his possessiveness that didn't allow you to have any visitors. The option of you stepping out of the castle was out of the question, even you knew that. But he could've let your grandparents see you, or even your friends who were actually there with him on the battlefield.

At least uncle Shotou was here. He sat by your side on a chair, while you were in your bed, back propped up against the headboard.

"They're all worried about me." You mumbled as you opened another letter. "I feel bad making them worry over me. Don't you think I should meet them to let them know I'm well?"

Shotou nodded. "I agree with you but your father still hasn't budged from his decision. He says that it's just not safe yet for you to meet people, and that you should still rest until you're better."

"But I am better! Any minor injuries that I sustained have healed ages ago." You whined. "Its just- its frustrating being alone in this castle!"

He tilted his head slightly. "You're not alone, Y/n. You have me, your father, the servants, the knights-"

"You know what I mean." You sighed. "Its okay if he doesn't want me too meet anyone else, but can't I at least visit... mum? I can go with him, or you, or even the guards- I just- I just need to see her! It's been too long."

Shotou heaved a sigh. "I had brought it up to Dabi, but... he said no."

You remained quiet for a few moments, looking down at your lap as your brows furrowed.

"He's mad at me." You mumbled.

Shotou's head shot up. "Y/n?"

You nodded, sniffling a little. "He's mad at me. That's why he won't let me meet anyone. That's why he won't let go see mom. He- he thinks it's my fault that I was with AFO." You bit your lip. "And it is. I did run away from him. But only because I was mad at him. I thought that some time away from each other would heal our problems. But... nothing changed. If anything, we're more far apart than we were before. He- he's punishing me. And people are getting hurt because of that- because of me-"

Shotou cut you off by holding your face and turning you to him. "Y/n, this isn't your fault. None of it is. And your dad, he's not mad at you. He's not punishing you. He's just- its just taking him some time to cope with all of this. You have to see where he's coming from, hm? He lost you- he thought you were dead. And now that he got you back, he's just- he doesn't want anything to hurt you, anyone to take you away from him again." He said, which made you cry even more and Shotou pulled your head to his chest, patting your back as your tears wet his garments.

After Shotou left your room, he went upto Dabi's office, hoping to convince him to let you meet Rei and Enji at least. But before he could knock, he overheard Keigo's moans and he immeadiately turned on his heel and left, hands clenching into fists at the thought of that disgusting whore.

He reached his room and sat on his desk, thinking of what to do to help you. Even if Keigo wanst there, Shotou doubts Dabi would've listened to him. So... if he wasn't going to do something, then maybe Shotou could help you?

You are the princess after all, the next heir to the throne. It is his duty to help you in whatever way possible.

Pulling out a sheet of paper, Shotou grabbed his quill and began writing away.

-

Keigo and Dabi laid in each others arms, Keigo's hand resting on Dabi's bare chest while the latter played with the blonde's hair.

"What's on your mind?" Dabi asked.

Keigo raised his brows and shook his head. "Nothing much."

"You should know better than to lie to your king by now, hm?" Dabi commented before asking again. "Come on, tell me."

Truthfully, Keigo was concerned over his last interaction with you. Why were you so hostile towards him? But earlier, in front of Dabi, you were so nice to him.

Keigo sighed, nuzzling closer to Dabi. "I'm just concerned about Y/n."

Dabi softly smiled. He liked it when Keigo worried over you.

"She'll be fine, Kei. She just needs to adjust to everything. Time heals all wounds." Keigo didn't reply and Dabi could see that he was still thinking about you. When you were gone, Dabi felt like this was the end of the world. He could only imagine the heartbreak Keigo was going through. They both loved you, and now that they had you back, their anxiety didn't go away completely. They still couldn't believe it, that you were still alive and well with them. In fact, the first night after they brought you home, Dabi didn't sleep a wink. No, he kept on checking in on you. Keigo, despite his injuries and heavy medication, was in a similar state.

"Why don't you go and check in on her? It'll put your mind to ease." Dabi offered, sitting up to pour himself some wine. Keigo nodded happily as he pulled away, kissing Dabi's cheek before wrapping a robe around him and scurrying out of the room, the king chuckling at the sight.

Even when you were a kid, Keigo often found himself watching over your sleeping form, something about it made him feel at peace. To see you safe and sound, in arms reach to protect you from any harm that should befall you... perhaps that's exactly what Keigo needed at the moment.

He made his way to your room, the guards at your door knew not to stop him- it was Dabi's orders. Keigo softly knocked on your door, waiting to see if you're still awake. After a few moments of silence, he slowly opened the door and crept inside.

There you were, lying on your side, tucked under the floral covers that reached upto your nose. Your hair sprawled out over the pillow, a few wisps framing your face under the glow of the lantern in the room. Your lips were slightly parted and Keigo smiled at how you looked the same as you did when you were a baby.

He walked closer and brushed the hair out of your face, and leaned down to kiss your forehead as his hands pulled the covers closer to you. He turned to leave but halted when he heard a whimper.

He looked at your face, which was now scrunched up as if in pain. Before he could do anything, you started mumbling frantically, your head moving side to side, your voice turning loud as your words became audible.

"No! No! Stop, Im sorry- STOP! STOP! STOP! KEIGO STOP-!" Keigo rushed to wake you up from your nightmare, only for your eyes to snap open as you began thrashing in his arms, pushing away from him as you began screaming for help, tears streaming down your face as you backed away so far that you fell off the bed, still shrieking for him to get away, just in time for the Dabi to burst in your room with your guards.

"DAD!" You yelled, your body shaking as he made his way towards you. "HE'S GOING TO KILL ME! HE'S GOING TO KILL ME!" You cried out, pointing at Keigo.

"Y/n, honey, calm down. He's not going to hurt-" Dabi tried to console you, taking your shoulders in his hands but you were inconsolable. He looked at Keigo, and the blonde saw the slightest flicker of doubt- no, accusation; an incriminating look in those cerulean eyes.

"I didn't do anything, Dabi. She was having a nightmare and-" he tried to explain himself, something he didn't think he'd need to do with Dabi.

"HE'LL KILL ME! HE'LL KILL ME! HE'LL KILL ME LIKE HE HE KILLED TOMURA!" You continued rambling on, tears streaking your cheeks, not taking your eyes off Keigo for a moment, as if afraid that he'd strike you at a chance.

Dabi looked at your face, concern arising at the raw fear in your eyes. Its only when a trail of crimson left your nose and your chest began heaving heavily did Dabi finally say the words.

"Keigo, leave."

The blonde took a step closer towards you. "No Dabi, I can help-"

Dabi snapped his head back at him and with unbridled rage in his face, he yelled at him.

"I'M ORDERING YOU TO LEAVE! NOW!"

Keigo's heart shattered at the venomous tone, and his face showed it. But right now, Dabi was more concerned about his daughter not having a panic attack or passing out. He could worry about Keigo later, you were the priority now.

You're the priority.

As Keigo left, Dabi picked you up and placed you back in your bed, promising to spend the night by your side. With the way your eyes remained wide open, he was worried you wouldn't sleep. But sleep finally overcame you as you were held by Dabi, your head lying on his warm chest, barely hiding the coy smile as he told the guard to inform Keigo that he won't be returning to bed tonight.

-

The next morning, when you woke up, you were still curled up in Dabi's lap. True to his word, he stayed with you the entire time, and it didn't seem like he slept much.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked, eyes slightly tired from the lack of sleep.

"I'm better, thank you." You whispered, getting off his lap. You looked up at him, brows knitting together as you tried to think of what to say next, or about last night. "I- last night... I-"

He waved you off. "We'll talk after breakfast. I think you're well enough to join us in the dining hall, hm?" You nodded as he got up and walked closer to you, cupping your cheek with one hand as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"My precious." He smiled before leaving your room, right in time for Inko to come in to help you get ready for breakfast.

Dabi returned to his room where he wasn't surprised to see Keigo pacing around, worriedly. From the dark circles and red eyes, Dabi figured the blonde hadn't slept.

"Dabi, I am so sorry-" He started but was cut off by Dabi wrapping his arms around him.

"Its okay. Not your fault." He sighed, pulling away to kiss Keigo on the lips. But the blonde wanted to still clarify himself.

"I didn't do anything, Dabi- she just- she had a nightmare and I was just trying to he'll her-"

"I know, Keigo. I know." Dabi stared into his scared eyes and his gaze softened. "But you need to understand that when I tell you to do something, you do it without question. Without a second thought. Y/n is- she's still a child, as much as she pretends to be a grown up, deep down all of these events have scarred her in way or another. We have to give her time and we have to help her, hm?"

Keigo only nodded before resting his head on Dabi's chest, wanting to be comforted as well.

"Let's eat, hm?"

-

The three of you sat on the dining table, eating in awkward silence. You and Keigo didn't meet each other's eyes, Dabi kept looking between you two, hoping one of you would finally start talking.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry-!" You and Keigo said together. You spoke again before he could (as you should, according to royal protocol. But everyone knows the King's favourite isn't one to follow rules.)

"I am sorry, for how I behaved last night, Keigo. I- I was having a nightmare and-" you sighed. "-Its not your fault. I reacted very poorly and I shouldn't have pushed you away or been afraid of you, I just- I just-" Dabi grabbed your hand and squeezed it affirmatively when he saw remorse in your eyes.

"Its okay, really. I didn't mind it, and I know it wasn't your fault either. But I have to ask... was the nightmare about me?" Keigo asked cautiously.

You looked up at him before looking away, eyes slowly welling up with tears. That was enough of an answer for him and Keigo could feel his heart drop at the thought of you being afraid of him.

"I am- I think I just need- I need some time to get used to you again..." you say.

Dabi hummed, giving a quick glance to Keigo who nodded begrudgingly as well.

"Well, now that this topic is over, I was thinking of sharing some good news." Dabi said, making the two look at him. "Since you seem to be in good health, I was thinking you could visit your mother. What do you think?"

"Really?" You whispered in disbelief.

Dabi nodded. "Of course, I'd be accompanying. Don't want you fainting or-" you cut him off by a big hug and loads of "thank you's".

He let you be excused so that you could get ready while Keigo watched him with a slightly hurt expression in his eyes.

"So... I shouldn't come with you two?" He asked in a low tone.

Dabi met his eyes and held his gaze before softening them. "I think some space between you both would benefit for her. After last night, I don't think she's strong mentally, Keigo. Her mother is a sensitive topic as it is... I can't risk her having another episode like last night."

Keigo stared at his plate before nodding, not meeting his eyes. "I understand. E-excuse me." He left the room.

Dabi knew being apart from you was the last thing Keigo ever wanted but... he could make him understand later. For now, Dabi needs to focus on you.

-

"Thank you." You said to your father who was behind you, holding the reins of his horse you rode on together. He insisted on sharing one ride, and you felt closer to him while he felt content now that you were in his arms, safe and secure.

"What for?" Dabi asked.

"Everything." You looked down at your hands and then ahead at the road. "For going with me to see mom. And for taking care of her grave. For last night, when you held me."

Dabi smiled and kissed the top of your head.

Soon you two had reached the castle and were getting off the horse when Shotou came out beaming.

"Someone is waiting for you-"

"Y/N!" Rei yelled as she dropped royal protocol and practically ran down the stairs of the entry door to hug you. "My child!" She began crying into your shoulder as her arms squeezed your form so hard that it almost began to hurt.

"Honey, you're going to break her." A familiar voice said, making you pull back from Rei.

"Grandpa!" You squealed as the older man caught you when you jumped, spinning you around as you buried your face into his neck, arms barely reaching around his broad shoulders.

"My doll, my little princess." He cooed as he kissed your forehead, his own eyes getting a little misty.

"Enji, stop hogging her." Rei smacked his arm.

He frowned. "Honey, I'm not hogging her-"

"Yes, you are!" Someone yelled as they yanked you out of his arms and into their own. "I've missed you so much, my baby!" She cried as she rubbed her cheek against yours.

"Hello, Aunt Fuyumi." You chuckled as you patted her arms to let go but she held you tighter. Fortunately, Dabi came to your rescue.

"You're hurting her, Fuyumi." He said as he pulled you away and behind him. Fuyumi gave him a quick bow and "Your Majesty." Before punching his shoulder. "I was worried about you! Would it have killed you to write back to me?!"

"I've been... busy." He replied. "Besides, I needed some alone time with my daughter before you came to hog her."

"I can't help it that she's my favorite neice!" Fuyumi defended.

"I'm your only neice..." you mumbled from behind Dabi. "Also, Where's uncle Natsuo-"

A loud crash was heard, making Dabi immeadiately turn and push you behind him. Of course, speak of the devil and the devil shall-

"I'm here!" Natsuo huffs as he gets off the horse he just crashed into some poor guards (their unconscious bodies are being dragged away).

He walks up the steps and quickly bows to his parents and Dabi before locking eyes with you and manically grinning as he lifts you up in his arms and spins around, making you chortle as you slap his arms to slow down.

"Oh youre a sight for sore eyes, you little brat!" He came to halt and you had to grab his arms to stabilise yourself. He pinched your nose, making you whine. "I'm never letting you go alone now! Gonna take you to battles with me, if I have to. Missed you too much."

You smiled sweetly at him. "I missed you too, uncle."

The Todoroki clan had decided to stay a week or two over at Dabi's castle, much to his dismay. Of course he doesn't like the fact that Enji and the rest of his family will be breathing down your neck, but Shotou convinced him to let them spend time with you here rather than whisking you away to Enji's kingdom where it'll be harder for Dabi to keep an eye on you (and not to mention the trauma he still hasn't recovered from since that was the place he lost you last time).

While you were being coddled and spending some quality time with the Todoroki clan, Keigo was finding ways to stay out of their way. He had initially greeted them when they arrived, but from their cold attitude and death stares, he'd much rather be ignored by them. And it's not like he or Dabi doesn't know how the royal family dislikes Keigo, so Dabi would often leave you with his family while he went to console his lover.

By the end of the week, as much Dabi wouldn't like to admit, you had looked much better and healthier since his family came. You looked happier, brighter. They were all having dinner together in the big dinning hall. Dabi sat at the head of the table, Rei to his right, then you and then Enji because of course your grandparents want you squished between them. Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shotou sat to Dabi's left.

"Baby you need to eat more! I could see your ribs from here." Rei said as she put another serving of food on your plate.

"But I'm full-"

"No, you're not. Now eat those veggies, I don't need your pretty hair falling out." Rei cooed as you begrudgingly followed her orders. She then narrows her eyes at Dabi. "You too Dabi, eat your veggies. Only drinking wine isn't healthy!"

Dabi hummed nonchalantly. "Yes, mom." He said, eyes trained towards the door. He sighed before beckoning a servant, whispering something to him. The servant nodded obediently and left.

"Aww, are you really going to eat veggies? What a good mama's boy you are." Natsuo teased, only to be whacked on the head by Fuyumi.

"Yeah, I'm having them bring more food." Dabi smiled.

A few minutes later, the hall doors opened and in walked-

Concubine Keigo.

The man who had been good at hiding himself for the better part of the week, was now walking towards Dabi. He bowed to him first, before bowing to the rest of the family. Even though his siblings masked their displeasure at seeing Keigo, his parents, especially Rei, made no such efforts.

She threw a nasty look when Dabi had someone bring a chair and seat Keigo next to him.

"You're going to eat with us?" Rei asked, not holding back the disgust in her tone.

"Mother." Dabi warned.

"What?" Rei shrugged, slicing her steak elegantly. "I'm just curious. I thought this was a family dinner."

Dabi's eyes darkened. "He is family." He looked at Keigo before bringing his hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "And if he wasn't before, he will be now."

The table had went dead silent as they all looked at Dabi, anticipating the bomb he was about to drop on them. Somehow, you already knew you were going to dread the news he was about to share.

"We're getting married."

And just like that, the curtain of happiness drops, your world shatters.

"I was going to wait a few more weeks before announcing, but since Y/n had been feeling better and you all came, I decided now would be the best time. I had proposed to Keigo long before Y/n was kidnapped-" you stopped hearing after that, you couldn't even if you tried. Your heart was beating too fast, too loudly for you to hear anything.

Is your father really going to marry Keigo? The man who killed your mother? The man who killed Tomura? Did Dabi even care about you anymore-

"Y/n?" Dabi called. Under the table, Enji held your hand and gave it a squeeze, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You looked at Dabi and Keigo, who were holding hands.

"Congratulations." You smiled. "When's the date?"

Everyone was surprised at your composure, Keigo who was holding his breath finally sighed in relief while Dabi looked proudly at you.

You've really matured.

"Well, we were thinking later this week, since everyone is still here. What do you say, Y/n?" Dabi asks, sipping his wine.

You hummed. "Very wise. Let me know if I could be of any help." The dinner soon ended, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you (except for Dabi and Keigo, they were looking at each other like they wanted to rip their clothes off).

Instead of joining the family in the garden for a walk, you excused yourself and left for your room. And only after you had closed your door did you finally let the tears fall.

How could he do this to you? How could your father marry that murderous skank? Was it to show you up? To teach you a lesson? It couldn't possibly be- because he loves Keigo, could it?

"No." You whispered harshly, as you sat on your bed. If this marriage happens, it'll put Keigo in a much powerful position, and it'll br far harder for you to take him down.

And not to mention, by law, you would have to bow down to him.

Concubines never get to be more superior than legitimate heirs, but since Keigo was already a favourite, and your lack of a quirk makes everyone question your legitimacy as a heir and a ruler, you have no doubt that Dabi will make you kneel to his slut.

Someone knocked on your door. "Come in." You said, fixing yourself.

It was Rei and Enji, concerned looks etched on their faces. Looking at them, you couldn't help the tears that welled up.in your eyes again.

"Oh honey~" Rei cooed with open arms as she hugged you, letting you sniffle into her gown.

"I- I'm sorry-" you tried to say, as you pulled away only for Rei to pull you closer to her. She sat on your bed and positioned herself in a way so that you could lay your head in her lap.

"You don't have to be brave anymore, Y/n." Rei said as she ran her finger through your hair. Your tears slipped down your face as you watched Enji sit on the foot end of your bed, taking your feet in his lap and rubbing your ankles.

"None of this is your fault, Y/n." Rei said. "I still want to go and yell at Dabi for even letting that whore sit with us, let alone marrying him-"

"Rei." Enji warned.

She huffed. "Your grandpa says that wouldn't be wise." She kissed your cheek. "How about you come with us? Hm? I can talk with Dabi and convince him to let you come with us until the wedding is over-"

"No!" You shook your head frantically. The last time you went away, your father proposed to Keigo. Who knows what that blonde will do this time when you leave. Take away all of your mother's belongings? Kick you out? Make Dabi question your legitimacy?

"I- I already told them I'd be here to help them. Besides, I shouldn't be away from my father on this joyous occasion. Really, I'm happy for him- for them." You wiped your tears away as Enji and Rei looked at you with pity. "I just- I just miss mom a little."

They stayed with you the rest of the night.

-

After the announcement to the family, Dabi had announced of his wedding to his kingdom. The news had gotten mixed reactions, they cheered and congratulated Dabi out of fear, while also throwing pitiful looks your way, hushed whispers about "poor princess Y/n". Good thing was that you spent most of your time in your room, so you didn't have to bear the embarrassment much.

You were standing in Dabi's office. He'd called you, and Keigo was there too. You didn't think it would be possible for them to be more closer and show more disgusting displays of affection, but here they are, shamelessly eating each others faces.

"Y/n! How have you been?" Dabi asked as Keigo got off his lap, giving a quick squeeze to his bum (you wanted to burn your eyes with acid).

"I'm well, thank you." You smiled, trying to contain the contents of your gut. "You asked for me?" Might as well come to the topic before they start doing more...stuff.

"Ah yes. Well, since the wedding is approaching, I wanted to ask if you'd like to be the maid of honour?" He said, shuffling through some papers- invites.

"You want me to be your maid of honor-?"

"Mine? No. I have Natsuo. I was asking if you'd like to be Keigo's, since he has no one to walk him down the aisle, Keigo suggested you. And you two are close, so it seems like a good idea, no?" He said in a tone that made it seem more like an order than a question.

How could he ask you that? Has your father lost his mind? Is he that horny to not give a shit about his own daughter?

You looked at Keigo, who was standing there with a chalice, his golden eyes piercing through you, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Of course, he'd convinced Dabi to suggest something as preposterous as this. Perhaps as a revenge for earlier.

"I think it'd be better if someone else stepped in. Perhaps one of the other concubines?" You offered. You'd much rather eat a bag of nails than let his filthy hands hold yours as you walk down the aisle.

"No, no. Keigo isn't close to any of the concubines. Besides, I think it'd show the rest of the world of our united front. Put all the rumours about conflict among you and Keigo to rest." Dabi said, deciding for you.

"Yes, your Majesty." You said, bowing as you left the room.

-

The next day was rehearsal day. The servants were working hard to decorate evey inch of the castle, making sure to prepare for guests from far and away, perhaps because Keigo told them that this was going to be "the biggest wedding of history."

You were standing in the church with Keigo holding your gloved hand. Just because Dabi said you have to walk him down the aisle, doesn't mean you need to touch him. The gloves were only the smallest barrier.

"Thank you for doing this for me." Keigo said as you both walked down the aisle towards Dabi. Every fiber of your being was screaming to rip yourself away from him.

"Anything for my father." Your lips formed into a tight lipped smile.

Ignoring your comment, Keigo asked you something even more cursed. "Have you thought of how you'd address me now that I'm marrying your father?"

Bitch. Skank. Whore. Pig. Murderer. Ostrich. Ass hat. Pile of shit. Slut-

"I have more important affairs to be concerned about." You said, dismissing the topic, but of course Keigo wouldn't let it go.

"Well, I have and I'd prefer if you'd call me dad or papa. Mama is also fine, but spare me the royal titles. I don't care for them and I don't want you to be formal with me. We're family now." Keigo said as you both reached Dabi who took Keigo's hand from yours, both leaning down to kiss your cheeks.

You wonder if his touch would still linger if you placed a hot iron poker.

You were walking towards your room, when you passed by your mother's. Opening the door, you saw Inko was there as well, going through your mother's closet.

"Princess!" She turned around, bowing to you with a gentle smile. "Look what I've found!" She showed you some dresses, your mother's beloved gowns, her tiaras, her jewellery.

"I was thinking that you could wear them on the wedding!" Inko said, as she pulled out a beautiful baby blue gown with jewels and sakura blossoms embroidered on it. "They should be of your size, bit I'm happy to make a few alterations to it if you'd like!"

You smiled as you tried on the gown, it fit you perfectly. "And if you pair it with this tiara and your mother's favourite ring!" She placed the white princess tiara on your head, along with the turquoise ring that had diamonds around it, with a gold band. "Your father gave it to your mother on their wedding night. Your mother adored this ring so much, she often said the turquoise stone reminded her of your father whenever he went away om wars." Of course it did remind her of Dabi, his eyes had the same colour as the stone.

"I'll wear this." You said as you admired yourself in the mirror, happy at how you resembled your mother. "Will you have them polished for me?" Inko nodded as she took the ring and tiara from you.

At least there's something you could look forward to at this awful wedding.

-

Guests had started arriving two days before the wedding. Few had been invited to stay at this castle, while others had rooms arranged for them at the other castles nearby.

You had insisted on at least letting your friends stay at the castle, but Dabi turned you down, saying something about security concerns. But he allowed them to visit you during the day.

"Katsuki!" You giggled as you hugged the barbarian king, who only lifted you up and twirled you around.

"Stop acting like a buffoon. Set her down, she's a princess, not a cat." Momo chided as she fanned herself. Katsuki only huffed as he set you down.

"Empress Yaoryuzu-" you started bowing but she hit the top of your head with her fan lightly.

"Forgetting how you're supposed to address me?" She asked, raising her brow at you. You sighed before giving a peck on her lips.

"Hey! What the heck that?!" Katsuki asked as he pulled you behind him. You placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "Katsuki, it's just a traditional greeting in her land."

"Yes, but I don't expect uncultured barbarians to understand what traditions mean." Momo snickered.

"Alright, that's it-"

"Enough!" You yelled at them. "I have bigger matters to handle than to stop you two from fighting like children. So if you insist on bickering, please do it outside of this palace and on your own time. Do I make myself clear?" You glared at them as they finally nodded.

The "matters" that you need to handle are about you making sure that when Keigo marries Dabi, he doesnt get to sign a contract that states all about Keigo's new powers and "governing" opportunities. You need to make sure that Keigo doesn't get more power than needed, that he doesn't get a superior title to you, the legitimate heir, and that he doesn't get to add a clause or two that would benefit him and harm you.

A familiar servant passed by you, gave you a nod. Of course, you had initially thought of finding ways to stop the wedding altogether, so you had a servant bribe some concubines and knights to flirt with Keigo, if only to arouse rumours and better yet, catch him in a compromising position.

But you knew that with the wedding approaching, Keigo would be more cautious than ever, and it's not like Dabi would take off the veil of love off his eyes to even suspect that Keigo is cheating on him.

You sat in the garden after returning from the office, asking your uncle Shotou if the contract for marriage had been drawn up. He told you no, that its still in the works and should be coming in tomorrow evening, and when he asked why you wanted to know, you'd made some excuse about wanting to see whether your father was going to have new stamps made with Keigo's face in it.

He only chuckled, but both of you knew Dabi wouldn't be above doing such an abomination.

"What're you doing here alone, bub?" Dabi asked as he sat down next to you. "Everyone's inside, waiting for you."

You smiled softly. "Just... needed some air. Nothing to worry about."

Dabi hummed as he gazed ahead at the tree line. "I know everything is happening so fast and is hectic, so I haven't had the time to talk to you but-" He looked at you and smiled with soft eyes. "- I want to tell you how proud I am of you. For being so mature, for handling everything with such grace. I know this news wasn't easy for you, but I am grateful that you have accepted Keigo and have chosen to be a part of my happiness."

Chosen? There was never a choice.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. "Of course, dad. I will always love you."

He kissed your forehead. "And I, you."

-

The next day went by blur, mostly because of the guests and servants running rampant. Momo and Katsuki were in the backyard, away from the party, and you only spared a few glances when they began to duel. You couldn't deal with them right now, not when you had to go and read the marriage contract before Keigo could sign it.

You were on your way when you heard Inko arguing loudly with someone. For a sweet lady like her, it's not normal for her to yell at anyone. So, you went to check out the commotion first.

"THIS IS NOT THE JEWELLERY PIECES I SENT FOR YOU TO POLISH!" Inko said furiously, slamming her hands on the table. You peeked at the man she was yelling at, recognising him as the royal jeweller. "WHERE IS PRINCESS Y/N'S RING?!"

"I- um- they-" the man stumbled over his words as you finally let yourself in.

"Your Majesty!" They both bowed, as you waved them off. "What's the matter Inko? Where's my mother's ring?"

She shot a furious glare to the man, who cowered. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

You stepped forward and looked at the man with a calm smile. "Where's my ring? Did something happen to it? Did you lose it?" You asked and you could only imagine Inko's murderous intent if the man said that he did lose it.

"No, princess- I didn't lose it! The ring- the ring it's with- concubine Keigo!" You face never dropped as fast as it did in that moment.

"What? How is this possible?" You interrogated.

"After- after I took your jewellery from Inko, King Dabi had called me in to display all of the royal family's jewels, including yours! When he left the room, he told concubine Keigo to pick anything he'd like to wear in the wedding ceremony, and- well- he picked the late queen's ring, saying that it'd remind him of the King's eyes." He explained helplessly, but you had already left the room, storming up the stairs to take back your ring.

You didn't even have to go to Keigo's Chambers as you found the concubine standing in the hallway, a drunk blush on his cheeks, and wearing something glimmerd in the dim halls-

Your mother's ring.

"Y/n! I've been looking for you! Come, come to papa!"

All sense of logic and manners went out the window as you stormed towards him and slapped him so hard across the face, that he fell.

Keigo hadn't even begun to recover from the shock of being slapped when you began punching him.

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?" You screamed. "WAS IT NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU TO KILL MY MOTHER, TAKE HER THRONE, MARRY MY FATHER, THAT YOU HAD TO TAKE HER RING AWAY TOO?! THOSE ARE MY THINGS! THEY BELONG TO ME, YOU FUCKING SLUT!" You shrieked as Keigo tried to dodge your hits without hurting you.

His eyes went wide when you wrapped your hands around his throat and began choking him. "I'm going to fucking kill you! I'm going to end this for once and for all!"

"Y/N!" Someone yelled as they ripped you away from Keigo. "HAVE YOU FUCKING LOST IT!?" It was Dabi.

"YES!" You screamed. "I HAVE LOST IT, JUST LIKE YOU HAVE WHEN YOU DECIDED TO MARRY THAT FUCKING WHORE! IN FACT, I HAVE LOST A WHOLE LOT MORE THAN YOU! I HAVE LOST MY MOTHER BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT IN THAT FUCKING BITCH! I HAVE LOST MY GRANDFATHER BECAUSE YOU WERE BUSY SCREWING AROUND WITH THAT WHORE! I HAVE LOST MY ONLY FRIEND, BECAUSE YOUR MURDEROUS LITTLE SLUT DECIDED THAT I DO NOT DESERVE TO HAVE ANY HAPPINESS! AND I HAVE LOST MY MOTHER'S ONLY LEGACY BECAUSE YOUD MUCH RATHER GIVE IT TO YOUR NEW BED WARMER THAN TO ME!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Dabi yelled, getting dangerously close to your face. "I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANYMORE INSULT AND DISOBEDIENCE FROM YOU! TOMORROW IS OUR WEDDING-"

"FUCK YOUR WEDDING! EVERYONE KNOWS YOURE GOING TO BE MARRYING A MURDERER AND ID MUCH RATHER KILL MYSELF THAN BE A PART OF THAT SHITSHOW!" Dabi went silent at your words, deathly silent. Then... he chuckled as he looked over his shoulder at Keigo who was already shaking his head, as if to stop him before he does something he regrets.

"Its about time she knows, eh?" Dabi said as he laughed.

"Dabi, dont-" Keigo started, but you cut him off. "Know what?" You spat.

Dabi looked at you, and his eyes held a cruel expression.

"Keigo didn't kill your mother. I did."

You couldn't- couldn't process the words that had left his mouth. So, you made him repeat himself.

"What?" You whispered. Dabi knelt down to your level, leaned closer to you so you could look into his eyes and see he wasn't lying.

"I. Killed. Your Mother." He said slowly, as if talking to a child. "I hated your mother, and the only reason I had been putting up with her for so long was because she was taking care of you. But one day, she thought she could threaten me by saying that she was going to leave me. I told her fine, signed the divorce papers and gave them to her. She wasn't expecting it, so she said she was going to take you with her. Now, that was something I couldn't allow. So, your mother decided to try to hurt me by poisoning you. When I found her plans, I confronted her and told her to either drink that same poison she bad for you or she was to leave tomorrow morning and never see any of us again. She instead chose to kill herself because she believed it'd be far more of a dishonour to return to her home as a divorcee and without child."

Tears slipped down your face. "N-No, you're lying. I saw Keigo-"

"Keigo tried to save her, but I told him no. I made him stop. The very thought of harming you was punishable. She deserved to die, and I had no sympathy for her when she dropped dead in front of me. I even had the antidote, but I chose to watch her die." Dabi said coldly. "All this time, Keigo had been covering up for me. He didn't say a word when rumors started, knly because he didn't want to have people see me as a murderer. He adored you, he's taken care of you, has quietly taken every insult you've ever thrown his way. And this is how you repay him?"

"Only Keigo and I have truly ever loved you. Your own mother wanted to kill you for her own selfish gains." Dabi said harshly as your world finally collapsed around you.

You couldn't say anything, do anything as you tried to make sense of his words, tried to find a way to that would tell you that he's lying. But you couldn't.

"GUARDS!" Dabi called. "Lock the princess in the hightower. Tie her to her bed, make sure she doesn't hurt herself or escape." He said before helping Keigo up. You couldn't protest as the guards dragged you to the hightower, didn't move a muscle as they tied you to your bed. All you could do was look up at the ceiling and cry mutely.

All these years, all this time, you'd been blaming Keigo, when everything that has ever happened to you was your beloved father's fault. The man you loved, the man you looked up to, the man you cherished... he had been the one who killed your mother?

The more you thought over his confession, the more you felt yourself age. By morning, you didn't have energy to even breathe.

The doors opened, you continued to look up at the wall, tears brimming your eyes.

Dabi walked in, and you didn't need to see his face to know he was still mad at you. No, the anger was practically radiating off him.

"You are to get ready and smile as you walk Keigo down the aisle. If you do something stupid, I will have your friends hunted down and killed. Do I make myself clear?" He didn't wait for an answer.

-

"Princess, please, at least eat something." Inko said pushing the slice of bread to your lips, but you didn't part them. Simply looking ahead in the mirror with a blank stare as the maids did your hair and makeup. "Izuku, she hasn't said a word since morning! I'm getting worried."

Izuku nodded and signalled the maids to leave. He turned your head towards to him and smiled warmly at you. "Y/n... princess, what's the matter? Tell me, so I can fix it, hm?"

Some things can never be fixed.

You didn't say anything, only looking at him with that hundred yard stare, and Izuku couldn't help but feel a little spooked.

He helped you walk towards the church where Keigo was already waiting for you. He was dressed in a white fitted gown that was sleeveless and backless, and had a fishtail. The dress itself had body chains made of gold and Ruby and sapphires sewed in an intricate pattern. And his veil? He didn't opt to wear one.

He looked at you and smiled kindly, although you couldn't really tell the difference at this point. "You look beautiful, Y/n." He held out his arm for you. "Ready to walk me down?"

You didn't have the energy or want to link your arm with his. Inko had to help you place your arm around his.

The doors to the church opened and the choir began singing hymns. The guests turned to look at you and Keigo, who was beaming as he looked at the end of the aisle where Dabi stood, a satisfied smile on his own face.

Your body felt weak, too weak and... different. You were dragging your steps, which fortunately no one could tell since they were hidden under your gown. At some point, it felt more like Keigo was walking you than you were walking him.

You weren't smiling at all. No, you still had the blank stare on your face, which luckily few people noticed since everyone was focused on Keigo.

"What's wrong with her?" Momo whispered to Katsuki as they saw your face. "Why does she look so... disturbed?"

"She must've seen your face." Katsuki remarked, although truth be told, he was also very concerned. Something felt off. Very off.

When you reached the end of the aisle, Dabi took Keigo's from you, and as rehearsed, they both kissed your cheek, but not before Dabi whispered-

"You forgot to smile. Behave."

Shotou guided you towards your seat in the front row, where you were sat next to your grandparents.

The officiant began the ceremony, but you couldn't pay attention to his words. All you could focus was on the turquoise ring on Keigo's hand.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Rei asked, a frown on her face. You didn't reply, opting to look at your father now.

Your father, your dad, the man you trusted more than anyone, the man who murdered your mother, who had murdered Tomura, who had murdered AFO, who had-

You couldn't breathe, you felt too warm, too hot, everything was burning inside you.

"You may now kiss the groom!" They locked lips, only breaking apart when someone screamed.

It took you a few seconds to realise that it was you who was screaming, only because-

Your hand was on fire.

By the time Dabi or anyone else reached you, your entire body had been engulfed in wild blue flames. Flames that were so hot and out of control, that neither Dabi or Enji or even Shotou could control them. Rei tried to use her ice, but it evaporated before it even came within 6 feet of you. The flames began spreading, making the guests panic and leave the church.

Shotou was the first one to piece it together. "Its her quirk!" Immeadiately, Enji and Dabi began giving you commands on how to control it, to calm yourself, to listen!

Dabi even tried to approach you, maybe if he were to touch you, you'd listen. But your fire was too hot, and you backed away anytime they tried to come closer, only screaming in agony as you burned yourself.

After 5 minutes, only when you fainted from pain and exhaustion did the flames stop. Your body... the aftermath made it beyond recognisable. Parts of your limbs were burned so badly, you could see the bone, while the rest of your skin had charred and burned well enough to know that no nerves will be working there.

Despite everything, you were still somehow miraculously breathing... barely. Dabi couldn't believe the nightmare he'd just witnessed, but his disbelief could wait as he gathered you in his arms and yelled at Shotou to get a doctor.

Everyone left the church, except for Keigo. He had dropped to his knees and was trying to wrap his around the horrible sight he'd seen. Be was trying to compose himself, trying to lie to himself that this... this was not his fault.

He knew he was wrong.

-

Dabi couldn't peel his eyes away from you, he needed to make sure that your chest rose and fell evenly. The moment it stopped- it wouldn't- but if it did, he needed to be there to resuscitate you.

Emperor Kai was fortunately right outside the church, waiting to be of assistance. It was a good thing he was from the land of healers, he was able to stabilise you.

While Dabi kept his eyes on your burned form, Kai opted to talk with Shotou. "It was her own quirk that brought out those flames, seemingly she got the dominant Todoroki quirk." He commented, glancing your way. "What she didn't inherit was the skin resistance to bare those very flames. She burned herself quite badly, and it doesn't help that the smoke from her own burning has damaged her lungs as well. She's still in a critical condition, I've done all I can. All we can do is wait and watch to see if her body can heal itself."

He also explained to Shotou that since its very rare to get a quirk at your age, that's why you couldn't control it. Kai reasoned that the reason your quirk did develop at that moment was probably because you were under some stress, maybe something had tipped you over emotionally, making your quirk appear so fiercely and harshly.

"Like an outlet, when we cry when we breakdown. She burned herself to release that stress." Kai explained.

Shotulou had walked him out of the room, only after ensuring that no one else was around did he ask that question.

"Her chances of survival... what are they?"

Kai's blank stare didn't give away the type of news he'd give. "Anything is possible, but it all depends on her body's ability to heal itself, her willpower to live. Medically speaking, I've done everything I can. Now, only she can save herself."

Can you save yourself, Y/n?

So... THOUGHTS????

And yall better fucking comment because I did not waste my entire fucking day on this when I COULDVE BEEN STUDYING FOR MY TEST ON TUESDAY FOR YALL TO BE DRY ASS.

Istg if I don't get interactions and comments and likes, I will make yall regret and kill characters left and right, AND REMEMBER THAT DEATH IS NOT THE WORST THING I CAN DO

[oceanreveuse]

‘ 𝓁𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝓈𝓈 — isagi yoichi x f!reader ’

★ sfw, reader wears a sundress, petnames (princess? baby) , maybe ooc isagi, reader + isagi meet during blue lock but this is set post-blue lock, quality time w isagi, a lil suggestive at the end, not proofread!

★ message in the foam : happy birthday to my dearly beloved little sis @reonaissance !! welcome to the big scary world eeek !! i hope i did isagi justice at least a liiiiiiittleeee... i fought my demons to finish this (´；ω；`)

from the moment you met him, you figured he'd have the mindset to spoil you. it was blatantly obvious from the look in his eyes whenever he'd spotted you across the cafeteria, mindlessly blanking out his friends' words as they spoke to him. if it was anything to go by, it was almost as if his entire world disappeared the second you were in his vicinity - or his line of sight. it was pretty simple why; you were quickly becoming his world.

your birthday perhaps rolls around too quick for your own liking but for ISAGI, it's the best time of year. a chance to truly treat you like a princess where no one will bat an eyelid, he was beginning to grow a little tired of bachira and kunigami's teasing when you was the topic of conversation between the trio - he wouldn't complain usually, he loves to go on about you. in fact, they can almost predict when he's about to start another lovesick babble.

in between training, matches and flying you across the globe with him, isagi tries to keep everything as domestic as possible. he loves you, smitten and knitted together like your fingers on this late summer evening. the skies are pinks, oranges, hues of purple fading in like a watercolour painting. it's been a conversation before, muttered between cotton sheets and a warm breeze through the open window - you found it difficult sometimes to keep travelling with him, to stick at his side wherever he goes. you support him, yes you always will but you knew soon you needed to stay home, to cheer him on through a screen until he returned home.

"you're thinking again, baby," his familiar voice is soothing, eases the irritating repetitive thoughts that nag on your bones like a dog. you turn your attention to those deep blue eyes and a smile caresses your face, squeezing his hand in reassurance, "relax, will you? it's your birthday."

"i know it is," you roll your eyes with a playful huff, amused with his constant reminder that today is your special day. it would feel like a normal day otherwise, if your boyfriend wasn't so insistent. he gives a puppy-like grin in response, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"i have to make sure you know, we can't have you forgetting, y'know?" isagi hums, his blue eyes reflecting the sunset like a body of water - specifically like the lake stood before you, the mirror reflection of the sky disrupted by the ripples.

the breeze blows against your bare legs once again, ruffling the skirt of your sundress and isagi hums in response, eyes flickering down to watch the fabric momentarily. after a few seconds, he lets go of your hand to shuffle behind you, toned arms wrapping around your waist and pulling your back flush to his chest. his body is warm, a personal heater compared the hug of chilling air around the pair of you.

a calloused thumb brushes up and down on your hip, his chin situated on your shoulder as a silence settles between you, comforting when you just lean into his touch, his presence. taking a walk so far from home you got both away from the suffocating air that came with being a footballer and in light of that, the partner of a footballer. not a soul in sight other than a few ducks settled on the water, no loud clicks of press cameras and reporters eager to get a word in with isagi - just the two of you and your breathing.

"happy birthday, princess..." his voice trails off, a delicate kiss pressed to your neck moments after and you hum in response, placing a hand over his. your thumb strokes against the skin of his hand. a small smile decorates your face however isagi is quick to move his hand away, much to your dismay. it trails a path down your waist, the curve of your hip before settling comfortably on your thigh.

isagi's fingers slip under the hem of your sundress, a playful chuckle rumbling against your back as you give him a knowing look over your shoulder, almost a warning, "c'mon, i think i have another present to give you back at the hotel."

© oceanreveuse 2024 | reblogs appreciated | do not repost, steal, translate, etc. on any social media platform & do not feed to ai.

★ the waves call for . . . @qichun @tetsuskei

[ her lady is affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum ]

[dark-and-kawaii]

୨♡୧ A Dance ୨♡୧

Summary: Raphael notices his little mouse has been acting unusual lately. He takes matters into his own hands quite literally and offers you a dance to sooth your troubles.

₊˚⊹♡ Content: Soft Raphael - Slow Dancing

₊˚⊹♡ Pairing: Raphael x F!Reader/Tav

₊˚⊹♡ Notes: A little gift for me dear @octarinecat xoxo

Raphael’s eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the sight of his little mouse’s distress. Your delicate form was curled inward as you leaned against his balcony, your usual bright eyes now clouded with worry. The evening of Avernus promised hellish storms, the warm breeze playing with strands of your hair, but you seemed oblivious to the gentle caress.

“What troubles you so, little mouse?” Raphael’s voice was soft, a stark contrast to the usual commanding tone he used while dealing with others.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, your eyes filled with emotions he had rarely seen directed at him by you, “I- I,” you stuttered, clutching your arm as if to steady yourself, “I can’t help but worry. That you’ll have no use for me once you hold the crown.”

Raphaels heart, if one could call the smoldering pit within him that, ached slightly. Ah, to be the cause of such pain, normally he would be delighted in it but seeing you, his little mouse, his eager little pup whom is always ready to please him like this, well he didn’t necessarily care for it.

Stepping closer, his devilish presence looming, yet oddly gentle, “My dear, how naive you can be at times.”

“You are powerful, destined to be an archdevil,” you murmured, your voice quiet, “I’m just some simple creature in your grand scheme. What use am I once all is done.”

Raphael extended his hand, his gesture an open invitation, “to stand by my side as my queen.”

As your small hand slipped into his you couldn’t help but to smile at him, his eyes filled with sincerity and promises.

With a gentle pull, he brought you close to him, your body pressing lightly against his, “to provide me with an heir worthy of ruling beside me in the hells.” His voice velvety that seemed to resonate with the soft melodies of the damned souls that were summoned to play a song only for the two of you.

You nodded, a blush spreading across your face, your earlier fears and worry melting away as you placed your other hand on his shoulder. Raphael, with practiced ease, began to lead you in a slow dance. His movements smooth, almost hypnotic, guiding you with a gentle firmness that spoke of ages spent in grand ballrooms.

The balcony beneath them might have been small compared to other parts of his home, but to you it felt boundless like the night sky. Raphael’s touch was both a flame and a balm, burning away your fears and soothing your doubts. It was all so soothing, easy enough for you to let down your guard once again and rest your head against his chest, listening to his hums.

As you both moved, Raphael could feel the tension give way, and he could feel your steady breathing once more, “You are mine, my dear. And you have nothing to fear so long as you stay where you belong.”

Raphael smiled, the curve of his lips a wicked thing as he watched your form press against his more so than before. This little mouse would always be his, no matter what.

[fromthefirstmomentitouchedyou]

Soulmate au 3

They’ve been sequestered into a side room in Kensington Palace, Alex is fairly sure theres a guard on the opposite side of the door in case one of them decides to bolt. He thinks about texting Nora to see what the odds are because Henry hasn’t looked at him since they’d been shoved in here, he’s looked in Alex’s direction sure but Alex has had media training and he knows all the tricks Henry is employing.

It’s not like he’s not doing it as well.

He glances down at the book on his thighs-the Prince Henry fact sheet, Henry has an identical one in his lap.

“This is bullshit,” Alex says for the tenth time in a row.

“Yes, well if we have to pull off this soulmates thing we have to at least pretend to know each other,” Henry says bitingly.

Alex sets the fact sheet on the couch beside him. “We don’t have to pretend we are soulmates, you could just ask me questions that’s what usually happens in these cases.”

“Most people actually want to be soulmates,” Henry says archly.

The sarcastic lilt of Henry’s voice sets off something hard and unpleasant in Alex’s stomach, a cramp at the verbal acknowledgement of how much Henry doesn’t want him. And it shouldn’t bother him, he doesn’t want Henry right back but the bond between them doesn’t lie. His body doesn’t lie even if his brain does. Henry’s rejection stings.

“Look, man, just ask me questions like a normal person,” Alex says.

For the first time Henry does look at him and the wave of pure emotion that wells in Alex’s throat makes him feel parched. Well, now he knows why Henry wasn’t looking at him.

Fuck the soulmate bond.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Alex blinks, he’d expected a soft ball question, maybe what’s your favourite colour or something. But as ever Henry cuts down to the very core of him and prods something painful.

“The Olympics,” Alex says, “I came up to you to introduce myself and you took one look at me and told Shaan to “get me out of here”

Henry has the grace to blanch at least. “I didn’t know you heard that.”

The heat in Alex’s belly turns into anger. “Yeah, that’s not really the point is it? The point is you were a dick”

Henry nods solemnly. “Yes, of course. It’s not an excuse but my father died a few months before and to be frank I was a dick to pretty much everyone all of the time back then.”

Oh.

Alex swallows. He should’ve just studied the fact sheet. Now he feels as if he’s peeled back a layer of Henry and glimpsed a person inside. His soulmate, not some rich stuck up cardboard character.

He feels an identical desire to peel back a layer. “I just….this shit is hard and I didn’t get a handbook and I wasn’t born to this like you were and it’s pretty hard when everyone compares me to you, who apparently can do all this in your sleep and it doesn’t matter how hard I work to everyone else I’m just a bad imitation of you.”

Henry’s eyes are wide and very blue and suddenly they are very close. The air feels charged somehow, a faint low hum starts in Alex’s ears and thrums through his blood and he knows on some molecular, cellular level Henry feels it too. The bond between them flaring to life and burning all of their good intentions to ash. Alex wants desperately to kiss Henry and he’s just working though gathering his courage when Henry leans forward and kisses him. Soft, sure and achingly sweet and the sore part of him he just revealed to Henry feels soothed, at least a little.

Henry pulls away and Alex finds himself tilting forward, eager to follow, to keep doing whatever they hell they were doing because suddenly feels as if he’s one half of a puzzle piece slotted into its mate and he wants to keep the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” Henry swallows painfully, cheeks reddening and in a moment the prince is up and out of the room.

[crow-stars]

❝JUST TO BE NEAR YOU❞

❦summary; sometimes, a gentle touch is all someone needs.

♪the characters in this story; malleus draconia, gn!reader

✎word count; 807

❀what do the ghosts say?; ambiguous relationship (can be seen as platonic or romantic), malleus just being a big cat

☛the author's notes; nothing to note...

☪look at the catalogue?

Humans were an odd species. Their rituals were different and what was normal for the fae was odd to them and vice versa. For example, when you began to get curious about the horns on his head, you just began touching them. Eventually you had moved on to stroking Malleus’ hair and have been so focused on it ever since. Even today, when he’s visiting you in your room, his head lays on your lap, your fingers combing themselves through his ebony locks. 

Malleus is quite happy with this odd arrangement, don’t get him wrong. He adores the affection that is showered upon him by you, not motivated by fear or ulterior motives but by you yourself. Truly, it makes Malleus feel lucky that you’re by him. 

As you rake your hand through Malleus’ hair, you hum some tune that the fae doesn’t know. It’s silent besides that, but some silences are welcome. 

“You know Mal,” Your voice tears through the silence, yet you still continue your motions, even as Malleus turns his head to look at you. “Your hair is really soft. I like it.”  

He relished in that compliment, lips curling into a smile. 

“Thank you, Child of Man. I appreciate it.” Your laughter soothes him, keeping that same smile on his lips as the silence settles between the two of you. Your humming comes back once more and all feels comfortable. 

The day ends with this and Malleus feels happiness swelling in chest as he appears in a flurry of fireflies in the Diasomnia commons room, where Lilia awaits along with Silver and Sebek. 

Sebek is first to talk after Lilia’s greeting, wailing about how he oh so missed the Young Master, how worried they were about his disappearance, so on and so forth. Lilia laughs at Sebek’s usually worrying, ushering the three to their rooms with playful laughter. 

Malleus finds himself wishing that he could fall asleep to the feeling of hands running through his hair again. It seems he’s gotten quite addicted to the action of you running your fingers through his hair. 

The next day, Malleus is the one to seek you out after classes are over. He finds you in the courtyard, seeming to be studying, with the textbooks and papers that are scattered around the table you’re at. You notice his presence before Malleus announces it, head lifting to smile at the fae prince. 

“Oh hey Mal!” You close your notebooks and textbooks, turning your full attention to him as he sat beside you. “Did you need anything?” 

“Yes. I require your touch.” 

Malleus has to stop himself from chuckling upon seeing you jump in surprise at his request. You raise your hand, lips parted and ready to talk before you stop, look away and then back to Malleus.

“I’m sorry?” 

Malleus places a hand on his head, the area between his horns. “I’ve started to crave when you pet the area here.” 

He can practically hear the hefty sigh you release, soft laughter escaping you as you shake your head. Malleus almost thinks you’ll deny his request, but the soft patting of your hand against your thigh tells him otherwise. As if practiced, Malleus curls onto your lap, head laying on your legs and rest of his body curled up to fit onto the bench. 

Your soft laughter soothes him as your fingers begin to comb through his hair, slow and at a steady pace. It’s a wonder how he keeps his eyes open as such gentle touches and you even scratch the area in between Malleus’ horns, earning a soft rumble from his chest. 

Malleus thinks he hears you mutter something, comparing him to a cat he thinks, but he could not care less, eyes fluttering closed as you continue your ministrations. The sun feels pleasant against his neck, warming him and numbing his senses. All he feels is the warmth of your touch, the warmth of the sun relaxing him sufficiently. 

It was... It was nice. His body felt afloat, but it was a welcome feeling, a new and amazing feeling. 

Malleus ended up falling asleep on your lap that day, right in the middle of that courtyard. Sebek was the one to find the two of you, aghast at the situation in front of him. You quickly shushed him, a bit passive aggressive when you asked if he wanted to wake the sleeping dragon. 

Of course, the knight yelped out a no and slapped his hands over his mouth. Lilia was next to arrive, chuckling softly at the sight before him. He commented on the situation at hand, smirking to himself as you just asked for Malleus to have some time to himself. 

Lilia dragged a despairing Sebek away, leaving the two of you on the bench, silence surrounding the area and work quickly forgotten.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

"I wish I was kind like you Tanjiro," Giyuu murmured. He looked around at the emptiness of the current room at the Water Estate they were in. The bare walls and no decoration serving as reminders of the promises he had broken and who he had failed to save too painful to mention.

How did his younger counterpart manage to go through so much and still have the space in his heart to be kind? Giyuu wished he possessed some of that same strength.

Tanjiro, persistent as always, had barely left a millimeter of space between them as they sat shoulder to shoulder. "But you're the kindest person I know Giyuu-san!" he exclaimed.

"But I'm not though?" the stoic man questioned, refusing to look at the personification of the sun next to him.

Tanjiro laughed, nudging the hashira lightly with his shoulder.

"Oh Giyuu-san, do you know how wrong you are?" 💜

STOP THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH DJJDJGSK i want to scoop this writing up and run farfar away pllleasee let this be something they talked about i can't add anything to this bc it's already perfect but how about a scene in the past with sabito and giyuu? :3 little flashback

⮱ Giyuu's eyes widened by a fraction, the words hitting something familiar in his mind. He frowned slightly, trying to pull up the memory that nudged at him. It came almost staticky at first, unclear. There was Sabito, young and smiling. When Giyuu thought about it, though he tried not to, Sabito reminded him of Tanjiro. Both held such kindness and compassion, their voices so soothing... so sweet. But that wasn't why he was remembering this. There were words that accompanied the image and he searched for the sound, trying to dredge up the rest.

It was a similar conversation like this. The same longing to be better. But it was different, too. Giyuu's words had been different.

"Sabito, I wish I was stronger. Like you," Giyuu had said. Even then, he had been the type to compare. He put himself below others subconsciously, dubbing himself not strong, not kind, not anything.

Sabito had shaken his head disapprovingly. "You are strong, Giyuu."

"Not like you! You're ahead of me in so many ways, it's not fair..." Giyuu sulked, tossing his practice katana aside and crossing his arms.

"Well, you're caring. The most caring person I know," Sabito said. "Besides, we have different kinds of strengths. And I can only beat you because I've been training for longer, that's normal. You just have to work more to get to this point. Meanwhile, I have to work harder to be nicer. You're very kind, did you know that? There's a word to it... Uhm... empathetic! You have empathy, and that's something I have to try a bit harder on. You're more forgiving."

Giyuu frowned. "What's 'empathy?' It sounds cheesy. And being forgiving isn't gonna help me fight! I can't just forgive the demon and expect it to give up and let me kill it! That's not how it works!" he huffed, glaring at the ground.

Sabito laughed. "Sure. But you're more inviting. You can soothe other people's worries while I fight the demons then," he offered.

"Fine... I still wish I was stronger. I'm basically useless if 'kindness' is all I've got for me," Giyuu grumbled, uncurling his arms to pick up the wooden katana again.

Sabito hummed, raising his own faux katana and imitating Giyuu's stance. "I'm sure you'll see how wrong you are, Giyuu," he said cheerfully as they began their training again.

i genuinely want to hug you so much rn anon you should write your own requests you writing is great ARGH the first paragraph of the ask /pos i love you so much

[theamityelf]

For the kamukura wrangler au what if Makoto gets sick, like really out of it kind of sick, and Taka takes care of him BUT it brings back memories of when Makoto used to take care of him when he was sick, in much less durable body and weaker body?

"He's noisy when he's in pain," Celeste observes.

"Not especially, for a normal human," Kyoko replies.

"I never compared him to normal humans. I said that he is noisy."

Kyoko hums in acknowledgement.

They're both watching Taka dose Makoto with an expectorant and a glass of juice. Every time the luckster coughs, there is a quiet groan or whimper to follow; it pains his throat, and he no longer has the presence of mind to downplay it.

"It might not have gotten this bad, had Ishimaru not insisted on performing chemical analysis on the pills he was provided," Leon muses uninvestedly. He is in his cot, bouncing a ball so that it ricochets from the floor to the ceiling and then back to his hand. "You gave the disease time to progress."

"It was that or risk letting them poison him," Taka replies, swiping a new sheen of sweat from Makoto's brow, as he does every few minutes.

Makoto groans. His headache has lessened, now that they've turned the lights off– thankfully, Taka can see in the dim lighting –but the pain still flares in the aftermath of his coughing.

"Shhh," Taka soothes. "It's just a side-effect of your congested sinuses. In another twelve hours, you'll be through the worst of it. At least you can breathe, now."

"The clogged nasal passages were annoying," Celeste agrees.

"As was Ishimaru's extreme vigilance, as if he thought Naegi would suffocate," Leon says.

Taka ignores them. Makoto's eyes have opened. They shortly drift closed again. It's been happening this way for hours now, through a bowl of soup and now a glass of juice. There have also been a few delirious murmurings: "In a minute," "Thanks, I forgot," and one half-chuckling "Relax." He doesn't murmur anything this time, but he does smile slightly, which is a welcome break from the pained faces he makes each time he coughs or sneezes.

He...likes it, when Makoto's eyes open. Even if it's not for long. And even though he knows Makoto needs his rest.

"I'm just going to take your temperature again, okay?" Taka says, and something about those precise words...it feels as though he's recited something. The feeling of a square peg entering a square hole; something natural and correct. I'm just going to check your temperature again, okay?

It sounds like...

He knows that he's occasionally found himself imitating Makoto's speech patterns, just as a means of making himself understood (and perhaps as an attempt to be a real person), but in this case it feels so utterly natural to imagine those same words uttered by Makoto's voice that he feels sure he must have heard them at some point.

But no. Makoto has never taken his temperature. Why would he? This experiment's health is perfect, his immune system optimized, and...

He suddenly vividly imagines a feeling of muscles aching, a feeling of a congested nose, and a prohibitively hazy image of Makoto's face.

I'm just going to check your temperature again, okay?

"Ishimaru?" Kyoko probes.

Taka takes up the tympanic thermometer he set aside earlier and turns it on. "You really shouldn't call me that," he says, as he checks on Makoto's fever.

[triplesilverstar]

A talk about parents

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Death, talk of death, parental death, angst

Word count: 1.7K roughly

A/N: Chapter three of Cold Night, Warm Hearts. In a moment of vague curiosity, you ask Vash a question you immediately regret. Both of you sharing things about yourselves you shoved away once upon a time.

A little more history and interactions as Vash and Snipes bond a little more. I also wrote this one a while ago and had no idea where it would fit in, so hopefully with the edits it makes sense here since I'm trying to keep the one shots more in line in the time line now.

It strikes you one day while you’re both out walking in the desert, and instead of thinking you just ask. “Vash?” A light hum lets you know he has your attention. “Do you remember your mother?” As he freezes you feel your stomach drop, some days you are really an idiot biting the inside of your cheek at your bluntness.  

“Why do you ask?” His voice is somber, starting to walk again and passing beside you, but you can tell he’s looking closer to the sand instead of the sky out in the distance towards the horizon like he normally would.

“Just curious, I guess.” Something in your tone grabs his attention, the hand not holding his bag reaching out for your own, wrapping your smaller one in his much larger one. Those long digits easily encompass the fine bone structure, making your hand look dainty when compared to his even with you both wearing gloves. 

“Once we were old enough, Rem brought us to meet her. I remember her unfurling and floating closer to the think glass to see us, humming while she watched us through the sides of her tank, but” his voice cracks, you step ahead and around so you're facing him, free hand going up to cup his jaw. 

“You don’t have to finish.” You’re wiping the wetness from his lashes, trying to soothe the anguish blooming across his face, your heart sinking in your chest. “I should have thought more before I said anything.” He shakes his head, dropping his bag, so the metal fingers of his prosthetic wrap delicately around your wrist to keep your hand in place, tilting his head so he can press a kiss to your palm. Even if you don’t feel it through the leather of your glove, the action is what matters, trying to console you even if he’s the one who’s hurting deep down.

“It’s alright. I think we were too young to really understand her. I didn’t really understand how to listen when the others talked to me until later.” His admission still leaves your heart churning, stepping closer to him so your chests are pressed against one another. Able to disentangle both hands from his hold to palm his cheeks, both of his resting on your hips. Out here in the middle of the desert, you don’t need to be concerned about onlookers, judging your interactions. It’s still something both of you are getting used to, being together and acting on it instead of shoving your feelings down. Being free to touch one another and only having to worry about onlookers, but you don’t have that problem right now.

“It doesn’t feel alright. I hate to dig more since I've already upset you. Did she?” You won’t say it, but from the flinch on his face and the sharp inhale through his teeth, you know he understands what you’re asking him. As painful as this is, you genuinely want to know, hopeful it’s a positive answer even if you know how unlikely that is from what Vash has told you about the big fall. 

“Yea. She did.” Dropping his forehead so it’s pressed against your own, eyes closed as he just breathes, and you do the same. It was the answer you were expecting, but you wish it had been a different one, another person Vash has lost. Moments pass as you stand there, just being, taking solace in one another while the breeze softly blows, sand swirling around you before he speaks again. “It’s alright to be curious about it, Mayfly.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like an ass.” That gets a sad little chuckle out of him, releasing your hips and pulling away to grab his bag before he takes your hand in his once more, lacing your fingers together and tugging you along with him. As you both walk in silence a thought crosses your mind, at some point you’ve stopped noticing the difference in how both of his hands feel. When you stopped noticing the cold feeling that seeped into your skin, you’ll never know. So used to the sensation now of your fingers encased in his even if it hasn’t been that long since the events in the ship, another reminder you’ve shoved what should have been obvious to you down for a while. 

“Tell me about your parents. You don’t talk about them much.” You know he isn’t trying to make you feel worse, it’s an honest question, prompted because he wants to know more about you. The same way your question was a result of you wanting the same, to know more than the surface level about each other.  

“Well” you pause, unsure of where to even start. “My mother worked at the terra forming plant. Not like plants here.” Putting a break in, making sure you and Vash are on the same page. This time it’s your turn to stare at the sand in front of your feet. “Like a building that contains all the tech to affect the atmosphere. My father was a farmer, he worked in the greenhouses growing vegetables.”

Vash chuckles, gently knocking his shoulder into yours “I mean tell me about them Mayfly, not what they did.” That soft sad smile is back on his face, his fingers giving yours a soft squeeze and his voice holds a note of cheer knowing it’s hard subject to talk about.

"I don't know what to say" feeling wistful as you give him an honest answer unsure how to answer. It’s been so long since you thought about them and time has made your memory fuzzy. 

"You've heard me talk about Rem, think about stuff like that. How she'd tuck me and Nai in after we'd fall asleep in the atrium watching the stars. Hum songs when she thought we weren't listening." Talking about Rem usually puts a spring in his steps, the woman who shaped so many of his ideals. It's easy for you to tell he truly loved her like a mother. 

Licking your lips you try to rack your brain for memories, so many of them long gone, lost to time. "My dad. He was a big goofball, and usually had terrible jokes." 

"That's where your sense of humor comes from. No wonder you make such bad puns." Vash is quick to quip at you, giving your fingers a quick squeeze with his teasing. You chuckle at that, reminded of how bad both of your puns can be. 

“Gee look who’s talking” you tease right back and give his hand a squeeze in return. “He would always tell me it was ok to just be me.” Looking down at the sand again as you think of your father. “I wasn’t the smartest which I think you know already, and Dad would always say I just needed to be me. Well, he’d always ruffle my hair too, which was annoying.” 

You should have known better than to admit that, Vash dropping his bag again to swing you towards him and doing just that, except when he’s finished he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “Like that?”

Snorting as you look into his eyes “minus the kiss? Yea. Just like that you dork.” Dropping your head so your forehead was pressed against the center of his sun warmed chest. You still don’t understand how he can wear a black turtle neck under his jacket with the heat of this planet. Raising your free hand to rest it against him, feeling his beating heart beneath your palm and taking a few deep breaths. “I miss him. Even if I can’t even remember what he looked like now.”

“He sounds like he was a great dad, Mayfly.” Vash reaches to rub his flesh hand along your back, pushing your jacket out of the way even if it is awkward with your bag pressing against it. 

“He was.” A few more deep breaths and you use your palm to wipe the slowly building wetness from your eyes. “Why is this so hard.” Muttering more to yourself as a comment and you don’t expect Vash to answer. 

“Because you miss them, just like I miss mine.” A real kiss this time, even if it is just a quick press of dry chapped lips together before you separate again. “Now” grabbing his bag for the second time in a short span of time, and once more getting you to talk alongside him. “What about your mom?” 

You let out a small laugh. “Mom was a no nonsense ball breaker when she needed to be, she was definitely the more serious of the two when it came to my parents.” That you could remember, while your mother was calm, any excuse you tried to give her for missed chores always fell on disbelieving ears with a snarl following after you. “But, when I used to stay up late or had nightmares she would sing to me.” 

“Wait. Does that mean you can sing?” Vash is almost like a happy big dog at that question.

“Only if you want your ears to bleed Sunshine.” You deadpan, a musical mother but you know you’re tone deaf. It’s well established. “Wait. Can you sing?” Turning on him and watching a light pink hue cross his features. You know he hums a lot when the two of you are out walking, some of them songs and at nights when he wakes up from his own nightmares he sometimes hums. That particular one is something Vash says he doesn’t remember Rem teaching him or singing herself, but it always calms him down.

Raising a hand to rub at the back of his head and an awkward laugh “I’ve been told I can, but I don’t really like to draw attention to myself for that one.” Doing everything in his power to avoid looking at you. 

“You have to sing for me at some point, Sunshine.” Doing your best puppy dog expression to see if he’ll give in the same way you know you would have when he fixes you with a similar gaze. 

A grimace on his face, but Vash gives in, singing low and just loud enough for you to hear, and you listen as you walk alongside one another across the dunes. You try to tell him more of what you can remember of your long dead parents. Another shared tragedy between the two of you.

Back to the series

[hymnofmistral]

Fragmented

Chapter Two & Three

( Chapter one here )

Posting here now...

-------

Chapter Two, I'm walkin' 'ere, aka forget the couch, you're sleeping on the stairs

----‐—------------

   Cool winds and rushed sounds of Shibuya craft an unsettling white noise. There's overlapping chatter, store entrance dings, and low humming of signs. 

* * *

   After some difficulty, cuffs were removed, and clothes were changed to travel incognito. 

   It was lucky Ren carried extra layers in his bag. Taking a quick detour to a public restroom, they each pull on a hoodie or scarf, obscuring their faces and usual attire. Goro even agrees, begrudgingly, to let Ren recreate a moment they shared outside of a pastry shop months prior. 

   It's ridiculous. Ren struggles to pull a hoodie on, stumbling or wincing in pain. Yet, he manages to flash that teasing smile, after ruffling Goro's hair. As if everything was completely normal. 

   Ren clumsily reaches out, wielding his prescription-less glasses, only to hit air, missing Goro's face completely.

   A snort escapes Goro, quickly shifting into a throat clearing. Ren is smiling again. 

   Goro mutters, "Stop looking at me like some stray puppy."

   There's something mischievous and foreboding in grey eyes. Before Goro can question it, the infamous leader of the phantom thieves is mimicking the sad whine of a stray puppy. 

   Ren barely starts the noise, and Goro immediately shuts it down. "No no no. Shut the hell up."

   Ren continues to hold him with that ridiculous smirk. Rolling his eyes, Akechi releases a curt sigh. Lightly pushing past Ren, Akechi picks up the pace just enough to inconvenience his drugged follower. 

   He'd never admit it, but only a moment later, and Goro slows his pace to match Ren's unsure and hesitant pace. 

…

   Sounds of downtown fade into distant waves, as rustling of leaves and the occasional stray cat meow welcomes them to Yongen-Jaya. 

   It smells like snow... 

   Ren's playful energy drains rather quickly as they continue their walk. It's clear he's losing the battle against whatever drugs were forced into his body. His movements are slow and wobbly, as he stumbles his way through back alleys Akechi leads him through. 

   Ren shifts between stumbling into Akechi, and tripping over his own feet. He’s mumbling apologies, when Akechi offers him an arm to help keep him steady, murmuring, “You need to eat.” Ren assumes it’s just part of the thick haze suffocating his mind. 

   His consciousness is slipping. The city falls silent, and Akechi disappears. Static swallows him, all coherent thoughts dissolving into panicked oblivion. 

*** 

   “Case closed…”

   Something warm sticks to Ren's forehead and cheek. It's a stark contrast, compared to the cold table his head lays on. His neck feels stiff and awkward, but it's too heavy to move. The sticky substance spreads, slowly seeping into his line of sight. Crimson…a puddle of his own blood. 

***

   "Oh, HELL NO!" Shakes him from dreamland.

   Grey eyes blearily crack open, seeking the source of the frustrated voice. Fabric greets him instead, in the form of a sharp collar peeking through an old jacket of his. The fabric smells of warm nights and soothing jazz, of sugary sweet drinks and chit chat growing into debate. 

   The world stumbles suddenly, and his heart lurches. Oddly, he doesn't hit the ground, or even need to catch himself. 

   A panicked voice approaches, scolding, "Wait, Ryuji–! You'll knock Renren over, too!" Sounds like… Ann? And Ryuji?

   There's an unintelligible grumble, followed by a harsh whisper that tickles his scalp. He notices how warm he feels then, as arms adjust around him. 

   Oh. Someone must be holding him. … I'm dreaming, still. Or…a memory? Thinking only thickens the dizzy nausea, so he latches onto something else to keep him distracted. Ren stretches his hand, latching onto the soft fabric his face is pressed into. 

***

   The familiar scent of carefully brewed coffee and curry wafts in the wind. It's a formless landmark, letting Goro know Leblanc is near. 

   Turning into the alley, he's immediately greeted by concerned phantom thieves. He expected this, of course. But, he didn't expect Sakamoto to be as dumb as to shove and threaten him so loudly. Foolish of me not to. After all, he’s the person who practically yells in public about being a phantom thief. 

   Ryuji’s shove is fortunately only enough to cause Akechi to stumble, thanks to Ann’s quick intervention. 

   "Don't touch me." Akechi snaps, and realizes he doesn't need to be plastically cordial with the thieves anymore. They know. "Look, your precious leader is alive. No need to shove me. Or touch me. Don't. " 

   After reprimanding her blonde friend, Ann approaches the pair. She inches in close to peek at Ren. Her shoulder brushes Akechi's (borrowed) jacket, and he tenses. She doesn’t seem to notice, leaning closer to brush strands of curly hair from Ren's pinched face. It's such a gentle and loving gesture.

   Discomfort stretches over Akechi, which he recognizes as jealousy. A twisted and contradictory jealousy. 

   Part of him, buried deep down, desperately desires to be loved and cared for in that way. In the way Ren's army of thieves cares for him. In the way Sumi beams at him, or the fondness Sojiro watches Ren with, something protective and proud. 

   Another part, a strange possessive crinkly sort of thing. This part believes that Ren is his. In the way only he is permitted to touch Ren so affectionately. Or the way those grey eyes hold him sometimes… warm, dreamy, and anxious. Or when that competitive flame consumes Ren. Akechi doesn't want to share these pieces of Ren. They’re his. 

   Logically, Goro knows it's bullshit and unfair to feel that way. It's ridiculous. Ren is Ren, and he gets to choose how to live his life. Who to trust or cherish or hate. 

   So, Akechi desperately burries these thoughts. Ignores and avoids those thoughts. Afterall, there is no future in which they both win. And Goro feels knows the best outcome, the right outcome, will be in Ren's favor. Ren is kind, strong, a beloved hero. All Goro is…  All I am is abandoned and worthless trash.  

   “He looks…bad,” Ryuji clears his throat nervously. 

   “He’ll live,” Akechi replies apathetically.

  "Says the murderer," Ryuji scoffs, his voice growing in volume at each word.

   “You ought to lower your voice,” Akechi warns. 

   Ren groans, and Akechi considers dropping him. If you're up, may as well stand. I'm not the Mona-mobile, and I'm already tired of your friends. 

   “What the hell did you do to him?!” Ryuji panics. “You weren’t–he shouldn’t–”

   "Can you stop yelling for one second?" Akechi whisper-screams. 

   “Guys!” Morgana attempts to cut in, hopping onto Ann’s shoulder.

   "When I know my best friend is safe, sure!" Ryuji steps forward, glaring threateningly. Akechi glares back, daring Ryuji to hit him.

   "Guys! Ryuji! Shhh!" Ann scolds in a whisper.

   "But he–!" Ryuji stammers.

   “Listen to lady Ann!” Morgana cuts him off.

   Akechi, just barely, manages to bite back a smirk. Adjusting his footing, he's about to place down their leader. But, he feels Ren snuggle into his chest, and Ren's fingers tighten around the fabric of his tie.  

   Akechi tenses at the gentle touch, and most certainly does not blush. It's a natural response to the cold, is all. “Don’t… you’re gonna choke me like that,” Akechi huffs nervously. “Unless that’s your intention…” 

   “I’d be for it.” Ryuji smirks. 

   “I’m floored,” Akechi says dryly. 

   Ren’s only response is the sound of soft snores, and Akechi sighs. Out again, hm? He’s about to mention Ren ought to eat, but Ann speaks up.

   "How could we leave him behind to go through this," Ann whispers to no one in particular, barely loud enough for the three near her to catch. "I didn't think…" She trails off quietly. 

   “It’s not your fault, lady Ann,” Morgana reassures. 

   “Yes,” Makoto says, drawing attention to the remainder of the thieves. “We all agreed.”

   “But he wasn’t–” Futaba mutters simultaneously as Ryuji says, “We didn’t agree to–”

   “Akechi? Why did–,” Ann starts, but hesitates.

  “He’s fine. Just needs to eat and rehydrate,” Akechi replies. “Now, can we…?” He nods towards Leblanc’s entrance.

   "Yeah, let’s go inside, everyone," Morgana meows. "Someone could be looking for him. We should wait to talk inside. And check in with Sae." 

   That confirms Sae's involvement, Goro thinks. What was Takamaki about to ask, though?

   "Forreal?" Ryuji's shoulders sag, and Haru places a hand on his shoulder with a reassuring smile. 

   “I understand how you feel,” she whispers softly, “But Mona-chan is right. We don’t want to put Ren-kun in any more danger.” With a huff, Ryuji nods, patting the top of Haru’s fluffy hair.

   Curling his head further against Akechi's shirt, Ren releases a painful hum. 

   Futaba whispers, "Ren?" 

   "Ren-kun," Haru speaks softly, her voice shaking as she peeks from behind Makoto. "Can you hear us?"

   “Welcome back,” Akechi mutters as he attempts to let Ren down again.

   Ren’s grip on him tightens, and Akechi stumbles forward, almost losing his balance. “You’re going to knock us both over, idiot,” he hisses. Ann helps to steady him again, and she looks between the two with an amused smile.

   “What?” Akechi’s tone is soured by her smile. 

   “Dizzy,” Ren murmurs, comfortably leaning back into his detective friend’s chest, “goodnight.” Akechi freezes, regretting coming here with every fiber of his being. Ann’s following giggle only embarasses him further. For the first time, he’s thankful for Ryuji’s distracting voice. 

   "What if he's trying to trick us?" Ryuji mumbles. 

   Akechi scoffs, "Why would I bring him back here, where you all could ambush me, you daft–" 

   "We should," Makoto's voice starts sharp, softening once she knows she's gathered the group's attention, "continue this inside. Come on, everyone." 

  "Ah, one moment," Yusuke hums, flipping his indigo hair from his intense eyes. Creating a view finder with his hands, Yusuke crafts a frame around Akechi, Ren, and Ann. "Hold that pose! Such strong emotions. The worry of a beloved." 

   "Wh–what?!" Ann squeaks. Akechi’s brow furrows over auburn eyes.

   Unfazed, Yusuke continues on, "The one thought to betray him, his savior at the last moment!" 

   "Forreal, dude?" Ryuji  mumbles uncomfortably.

   Akechi and Ann both look at Yusuke with a deadpan expression.

  Makoto is already entering Leblanc after holding the door for Haru. It softly jingles, redirecting the group's attention again. 

   "Someone take him," Akechi mutters, actively avoiding eye contact with everyone. 

   "Would you mind if I took a picture?" Yusuke inquires. "The lighting out here will be impossible to recreate insi–Ooph!" 

   "Come on, Inari!" Futaba yanks on his sleeve, ignoring the way Yusuke stumbles through the doorway. 

   Yusuke certainly is… unique, Akechi muses to himself. 

   "Could you put him down inside?" Ann asks. She and Morgana are the last two remaining in the cold alley with him. She adds with a smile, "please?" 

   The sooner this is over, the sooner I can–... Akechi answers with a grunt, entering Leblanc, Ren in his arms. 

***

   Warm light spills over Leblanc's interior, as welcoming as ever, a stark contrast to the late hour and recent events.  

   "Yeah, but," crouched on one of the barstools, Futaba whines into her cellphone. "Sojirooo!" 

   Akechi's back hurts just looking at her hunched over form. 

   "We should put him in his bed," Morgana nods towards the stairs with his bright blue totally-not-cat eyes. 

   The thieves share chatter as Akechi latches on this opportunity to leave the crowded café for a much quieter attic. What are they up to? Inviting me in, and… Strange. 

   "We should probably let him rest before bombarding him with questions," Morgana suggests after hopping on the bar top. Then, redirecting his attention, Morgana asks quieter, “What happened back there, anyway?” 

   "I would like to know as well," Makoto chimes in. 

   Right. Of course they have questions. 

   "It would be best to follow your original plan, keeping him hidden for now. As far as Shido knows, Amamiya is dead, and it's best for all of you, if he continues to believe that," Akechi's tone is low and robotic, as he realizes he hasn’t thought much of his own next steps. 

   Fuck. Do I have to hide? No. I need to find out what he knows first. Any footage should support if I say I killed him in the metaverse… I should find a way to download the file and delete any other trace of it just in case.

   “So, it truly is the politician pulling all the strings,” Yusuke hums. 

   “Do you think it’s his fault that my mom…” Futaba mutters, “I gotta check some stuff when I get home.” Ann rests a comforting hand on her shoulder, and the two share a smile.

   Squished into a booth, Ryuji and Makoto sit on either side of Haru protectively. Ryuji speaks to her with an animated expression, coaxing a small smile from Haru. Makoto’s attention is on her cell phone.

   Leaning against the table, Yusuke seems to be staring off into space. “What changed your mind?” Yusuke tilts his head towards Akechi. 

   Pulled out of his thoughts, he regards the artist. He expects to see anger or hate watching him, but Yusuke’s expression seems genuinely curious. Certainly unique… “It doesn’t matter,” Akechi mutters. Yusuke watches him, seeming to consider a response. He decides against it, directing his attention to Futaba.

   "Oh! Um,” Futaba catches Yusuke’s gaze, and it reminds her of the phone conversation she had only a moment ago. “Sojiro said it was fine for us to be here to wait for Ren-bro," Futaba explains, as she returns her phone to her pocket, "But… Mona's right. That we shouldn't crowd him. Or the café." 

   "I suppose rest would do us all some good," Makoto says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s been a long day, and we know he’s safe, so…” Her voice is distracted, as she gathers her bag, and adjusts her coat. “Are you all settled here?”

   “Safe?” Ryuji says to no one in particular. Haru seems to mirror his words through her expression. 

    “Good to go, my queen!” Futaba salutes as she hops to the floor. Then she points at Akechi, “You better not harm one hair on my big bro’s head! Or else.” She finishes her warning with a punctuating 'kssshh' as she drags her finger across her neck. 

   Akechi’s mouth twitches, and then replies, "You have my phone bugged. So, it's not as if you’ll miss anything." 

   "Good point," Futaba smirks with one of her patented cartoon villain laughs. 

   Akechi stares back with a perplexed frown. What the actual fuck? Are they planning to leave me here after…

   "Mako-chan?" Haru pokes her friend’s shoulder, who has stopped right in front of Leblanc’s entrance. Makoto waves off with a reassuring smile, pulling out her phone. "Oh!" Makoto visibly relaxes, "It's sis. She wants to talk at home. I should hurry, then.” A bit more banter is tossed between the group as they all squish through the door.

   "We're not seriously just leaving him alone with Renren?" Ryuji says from the doorway, crossing his arms. It’s the fifth time Akechi has heard Ryuji mumble something similar, since they entered the cafe. It’s a bit annoying, but Akechi agrees with him.

   “Ryuji, you’re letting all the cold air in!” Ann pushes him.

   “Ow!” Ryuji whines.

   "I'll protect him, don't worry!" Morgana chirps. 

   “One of us did remember to contact the doctor, yes?” Yusuke asks, making no move to leave. 

   Sighing, Akechi begins the task of carrying another man up a very narrow staircase. Carrying Ren through alleyways was fine. But, carrying Ren up steps? Not so much. But, he’s not about to admit that in front of the bumbling idiot thieves.

    “Sojiro did,” Futaba confirms, and immediately after yelps as her phone sings to her. “Okay, gotta retreat to home base for real!” 

      "Not to be rude, " Ryuji says, "But it's not exactly reassuring that a cat–" 

     Akechi knows exactly what comes next.

   "I'M NOT A CAT!!!" Morgana practically yowls as the entrance jingles and clicks shut. 

   There it is. 

    “Ann and I will be here,” Yusuke speaks quietly, “I hope that eases your worries, Ryuji.” 

   “Oh,” all anger drains from Ryuji’s tone as he asks, “forreal?” Yusuke proceeds to explain his next train isn’t for another hour, and Ann announces she’ll be staying with Futaba. 

   Distracted with his own dizzying thoughts, Akechi misses the way one of the steps juts out unevenly. “Shit.” He stumbles, barely catching himself and Ren as the step squeaks in protest. 

   The three remaining thieves all react simultaneously to the noise.

   “Oh my gosh!” Ann gasps, “Are you okay?”

   “Would you like some help?” Yusuke offers.

   “Hey! Careful with our goods!” Morgana yowls from the bottom of the stairs.

   “Executive decision, your leader will be sleeping on the stairs,” Akechi mutters in an annoyed tone.

   Then he hears it. A snicker escapes Ren. 

   Oh my gods, this stupid asshole…

   “Oh, fuck you,” Goro groans dramatically, releasing his hold on Ren without warning. Ren hits the stairs with a thud, groan, and a surprised laugh. He grasps the banister, leaning against Goro’s legs to stop himself from rolling further down the steps.

   “Ow,” Ren winces through a breathy chuckle, “It hurts to laugh.”

   “Good,” Goro huffs.

   A surprised meow leaves Morgana, “What is going on?!”

   “I didn’t wanna walk,” Ren half laughs- half mumbles, slightly slurred. Ann is giggling now, while Morgana sighs. 

   Goro pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering to Ren, “I hate you so much.” 

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

Chapter Three, Everyday's great at your Leblanc, even greater when you're getting me coffee

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

   Goro’s not sure what he expected from a sketchy back alley doctor, but it certainly wasn’t Dr. Takemi, dressed like she has a solo in ‘Repo! The Genetic Opera’ the musical. Ren sure keeps strange company. Helpful, but strange. 

   While Dr. Takemi examines and treats Ren upstairs, with Morgana’s supervision, the few still there occupy the cafe with Ann’s suggestion of coffee.

   “Either of you know how to make the coffee?” Ann has her palms pressed against the bar, while a green apron that says ‘Hi, Call me Akira’ hangs over her frame. 

   Goro smoothly bites back a laugh. Ann was the one who suggested coffee, but of course, she didn’t think much past that. To be fair, she was most likely used to always having Ren there to provide the drinks, as Goro was. Or, should he say Akira? 

   Ren had really tried to convince Goro that was his actual name. Too bad for him, they first met without a nametag and green apron. When Goro asked him, “why ‘Akira’?” Ren had ducked his head, the light catching his glasses in a way that hid his eyes. “It sounds mysterious.” Ren had replied with an embarrassed smile, his face flushed a warm tone of pink. It was one of the first times Ren caught Goro off guard enough that his detective prince mask slipped into a genuine smile. He’d never admit that to Ren, though.     

   “Unfortunately, I am not well versed in the brewing process,” Yusuke, seated at the bar to Akechi’s right, laments. 

   “I didn’t really think that one through, huh?” Ann giggles with a sheepish smile. “How about I get you two gentlemen a couple glasses of water?” Ann’s voice slightly shifts octaves, as she tests out what must be her customer-service voice. She turns towards a fridge deeper in the kitchen, and Goro fights a smile. 

   He remembers a couple of stories Ren shared with him through giggles, about Ann’s terrible acting skills, of a photo he snuck of her wearing what seemed to be an entire clothing store’s inventory. Goro supposes Ann could be tolerable company.    

   Hm. Goro remains on guard, trying to keep a neutral expression and tone of voice.  He’s never been alone with Ann and Yusuke before, or any of the thieves without Ren. Occasionally Makoto, but always with Sae present as well. 

   A low hum pulls his attention to his phone buzzing, sparking anxiety. Hesitantly, his auburn eyes glance at the caller ID, and pin needles crawl up his spine, draping him in quiet panic. Silencing his phone, but not ignoring the call, he returns his attention to the two thieves sharing casual chatter. Breathe… Breathe. 

   “I believe a brown apron would suit you much better, Ann,” Yusuke hums, “with light blue buttons.”

   “Excuse me?” Ann returns with three water bottles, hand on her hip as she challenges Yusuke.

   “The green is so…” Yusuke trails off, “the word escapes me. It’s…?”

   “Every day’s great at your Junes,” Akechi half murmurs, half sings, "-esque." 

   It’s not until he meets Ann’s and Yusuke’s very amused expressions, that he realizes he’s done that out loud. Oh. Oh gods, no. 

   Akechi clears his throat, “The, um, Junes apron color. They recently scrambled to change the color design after that oil fire scandal.” He can feel the stares on him intensify with each word that tumbles from his mouth. He decides to take a drink of his water to shut himself up. 

   Ann bursts into a fit of giggles, while Yusuke smiles at him with starry eyes. 

   “Please excuse my sleep deprived mouth,” Akechi mutters as the detective prince mask slips back into place. “Oh, is that the time already, I really should get out of your hair–” Why am I still here, anyway? …Where else would I even–

   “No! Wait!” Ann snatches Goro’s forearm, and he realizes he’s still wearing Ren’s frayed edge jacket. “I wasn’t making fun, promise! It was just, well…” Ann presses a finger to her lips as she hums in contemplation. 

   “Authentic,” Yusuke answers. 

   “Yeah, that!” Ann chirps, releasing her hold on him.

   “What do you mean by authentic?” Akechi frowns. 

   “Oh, please! You really thought we were buying that perfect-basic barbie-loves sweets-prince act?” Ann smirks.

   Yusuke snorts this time, and Akechi is speechless for a breath. “Poetically said as usual, Ann,” Yusuke teases. Ann sticks her tongue out at her friend in reply.

   “I,” Akechi struggles for coherent words, “basic barbie?!”  Ann shrugs nonchalantly, twirling one of her ponytails as she takes a sip from her water. 

   Goro wants to bring up that she’s a model and should understand the importance of keeping a certain image in public, but he decides to steer the conversation into hopefully-less fruitless commentary. “Anyway... How long have you known?” Goro asks calmly. “I found out about the bug, obviously. But, what made you decide to do it in the first place?” I thought I was so careful. He tries to ignore the shame taunting him distantly.

   Ann hums in thought for a long moment. Goro’s gaze wanders the cafe aimlessly while he waits. He notices Yusuke sketching on a napkin, with charcoal of all things, and wonders how many art supplies he has on his person at all times.

   “PANCAKES!” Ann suddenly shouts, and Yusuke’s smooth line of charcoal becomes jagged, and Akechi nearly chokes on the sip of water he had just swallowed. 

   “Oops, sorry!” Ann says in that bright tone of hers, a tone that would sound plastic coming from anyone else. 

   Yusuke doesn’t seem too bothered, adapting to the shift in his art piece, while Akechi coughs roughly. One way or another, they’ll be the death of me.  

   “Elaborate, please?” Akechi grumbles once he catches his breath. 

   “That’s how we knew you had been to the metaverse,” Ann explains. “We were talking about breakfast foods or something. Mona brings up pancakes when we bump into you, and you asked about it, probably thinking it was one of us.”   

   Akechi blinks. 

   “Soooo,” Ann drawls, “pancakes!”

   Akechi opens his mouth, hesitates, and closes it. He repeats this three times, and sighs. Resting his forehead against the bar, he focuses on the cold spot of condensation his water bottle made. 

   “Um…” Ann pokes his shoulder, checking on him, “Akechi-kun?”

   “Perhaps he doesn’t remember such a simple discussion,” Yusuke suggests. “Also, Morgana isn’t exactly a traditional metaverse phenomenon, like our personas. As far as we know.”

   Ann replies casually, “I guess I wouldn’t expect a talking cat. Well, now, I’m not sure if anything could surprise m–”

   “Pancakes?!” Akechi manages in an exasperated tone. 

   “Um, yeah…” Ann replies, and he can hear the nervous smile in her voice. 

   “Fucking PANCAKES?!” Akechi groans. Ann confirms nervously again.  

   Breathe in… Hold… Exhale…

   “You okay?” Ann asks in an unsure tone. 

   Sitting up straight, Akechi quickly fixes his hair. Then, avoiding eye contact, he mutters, “I will never eat or even look at another pancake for the rest of my life.”  Ann bursts into another fit of giggles as Yusuke smiles fondly, and Akechi definitely doesn’t hide a smile behind his fist. 

   “Oh, we should play a game or something! While we wait.” Ann suggests. Catching Goro’s stiff posture, she adds, “You, too, Akechi-kun!”

   “Why wou–”

   “I won’t take no for an answer,” Ann steam rolls, “And I’ll just keep talking until you say yes anyway. Talk about everything, talk about sweets! Personally, my winter favorite is anything with powdered sugar or soy bean paste. But I–”

   “Will you shut-!” Goro pauses, then releases a curt sigh. “Just… Stop. Please.” He rubs at his temples tiredly. “I concede.” He glares at Ann then, who is twirling her hair with a triumphant smile, on her way towards one of Leblanc’s shelves. 

   Yusuke continues the chatter, idly looking at his phone, “Perhaps we could…” 

   You two are irritatingly sunny. 

We'll be back after the commercial break...

[the-great-lightwood-bane]

Silence is Golden

Malec | Rated general | tw meltdown, going nonverbal

Day 25: Silence is Golden | Lost Voice

Summary: The Institute is all long corridors and stone walls, and sound always echoes harshly there. Alec hates it.

A/N: Thanks to @bear-sub and Em for reading this over for sensitivity! I'm not autistic so if there are any inaccuracies or insensitivities, please tell me so I can fix them.

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

The noises of the Institute grated on Alec’s ears, and he felt his mood souring in response. 

It wasn’t new, the irritation that the constant noise bred in his mind, but it was new how much he noticed it. Before, the overwhelming weight of sound was just another weight bearing him down, keeping his mood in a low-level irritation most of the time. Now, he’d experienced what it was to not be constantly overwhelmed, and the noise was all the more annoying for it. 

To anyone else, the noises wouldn’t’ve been annoying at all — and in fact, nobody else in the Institute even seemed to notice it, let alone be bothered by it. But Alec always heard the constantly running footsteps that echoed dissonantly against the stone corridors, the voices that were amplified and distorted and permeated every space. It wasn’t astonishingly loud, although it could be if there were enough new recruits; it was simply constant, and it scraped against Alec’s ears whenever he was in the Institute. 

At the loft, it was different. At the loft, everything was quiet, carpets on the floor and art on the walls absorbing the sound that bounced confusingly around the Institute. Magnus had lived well before electricity; he’d once told Alec, with a laugh, that he couldn’t stand the constant hum that accompanied life in this century, and so the loft was free of a buzzing fridge or the rush of traffic below. Sometimes Magnus played music, but never too loud, and Alec could turn it off whenever he wanted to. Otherwise, the loft was quiet and peaceful and safe, one of the few places in which Alec could truly relax. 

The Institute… wasn’t. 

Before meeting Magnus, Alec’s mood wouldn’t’ve soured at the irritation of the constant noise, because his mood had been constantly sour — he’d been teetering on the edge of being overwhelmed for as long as he could remember, holding on to control with all he had. He’d learned to box up the discomfort and push it away, and it had been such a constant presence in his life that he’d barely noticed it anymore by the time Magnus came along. 

Magnus brought silence — silence like spun gold that wrapped around Alec like comfort, like a hug. Silence that soothed the places where he felt overwhelmed, coaxed away the distress. 

And now, in the Institute, the sounds were all the harsher for the gentleness he had to compare it to. 

Normally, he could draw on his experience of shoving it all away to function despite the constant dissonance of noise, but today was worse than usual. He’d been dragged from sleep by a blaring alarm that had made his head ache already; the Shax demons they’d encountered on patrol had chittered constantly and screamed as they died, the noise rebounding off of the sides of the alley. Alec’s headache had increased to a dull, constant pounding by the time they got back to the Institute — and in the Institute, the new batch of newbies that had arrived the day before had been laughing and yelling. It was a day off to get used to the new place before they started on the regular routine of training, patrol, and sleep that would make up their lives for the next several years, and Alec couldn’t begrudge them a bit of fun, but he couldn’t stand the noise. 

Laughter echoed, disjointedly, off of walls and ceilings and bare floors. The acoustics in the Institute were atrocious, thanks to all the metal and glass and stone, and Alec had a suspicion that the Angelic Core was messing with the sound waves somehow, bending them out of proportion. Today’s noise wasn’t a constant, low-level hum, but yells and shouts of laughter and running feet that grew closer and then faded away, in and out, no pattern to the sounds that he could hold onto. Every harsh noise made his headache spike. 

He’d usually train when it got like this, hit the punching bag until the physical ache drowned out the buzzing discomfort in his head, but the newbies were training in there today, and he wasn’t sure if he could brave the still louder corridors that led from his office to the training room. And anyway, Magnus hated it when he came home with bleeding hands. 

Alec wanted to go home, home to the blissful quiet of the loft and of Magnus’ arms, but there was a mounting pile of paperwork on his desk for the new recruits which he was struggling to make progress on, thanks to the noises bouncing around his brain. He wanted to put his hands over his ears and run away from here, but he needed to be here. 

A knock on the door. Alec managed to say “come in”, although his voice felt weak and quiet. The volume increased as the door opened; Jace bounced in, his feet banging on the ground. “Alec!” 

The buzzing in Alec’s head had risen to a fever pitch punctuated by bursts of noise, horrible terrible noise that he couldn’t stop. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but he couldn’t make his mouth form words; he opened and closed it, soundlessly, barely aware of the tears on his cheeks. 

This was horrible. He was sitting at his desk, crying like a child, when he should be working — should be figuring out whatever problem Jace had come to him about — but he couldn’t think of anything but the loud loud loud noise that worked inside his brain and set about tearing it all to pieces. 

“Alec,” Jace was saying, worried, “Alec, what’s wrong?”

Alec flinched away from the sound, desperate to explain, to deny, but his voice felt stuck in his throat. Another loud laugh made Alec flinch again, and sudden understanding surged through the bond. 

Jace knew how stupid Alec felt, how ridiculous, to be sitting crying at his desk, wordless because of loud noises. But he didn’t tell Alec to buck up or say he was being ridiculous; instead, he put an arm around Alec’s shoulders and pulled him to his feet. “Go home, Alec,” he said, quietly, soothingly, the sound only barely increasing Alec’s distress. 

Alec glanced at the papers on his desk, blurred through the idiotic tears on his face, and shook his head over and over and over again. The repetitive motion was almost soothing. 

“I’ll deal with the paperwork,” Jace said, and then amended, “or I’ll get Underhill or Izzy to do it. You’re not going to be productive like this. Go home.” 

Go home. The words were tempting, so tempting; Alec thought of the quiet back passage leading from his office to outside, to fresh air where sounds might be loud but they wouldn’t rattle around cold stone corridors, and then to Magnus’ loft with its blissful silence. Magnus wouldn’t be there, but it would at least be quiet, and Alec felt his determination falter. 

He nodded, staring at the ground, still wordless. Jace chivvied him out of the Institute in a silence for which Alec was grateful. 

New York’s noise pushed on his eardrums, but it was a steadier throbbing than the Institute’s raucous screams, and he managed to stop himself from collapsing to the ground and holding his ears and sobbing until the tears were gone. 

The loft’s door swung open at his approach, Magnus’ wards welcoming him in. Alec stepped through the doorway and felt tension bleed from his shoulders, all the effort of keeping himself functional vanishing into misty silence. 

Without the pressure on him to keep going, the stress caught up, and Alec stumbled over to the couch and curled up there. The noises still echoed faintly in his head, and the overwhelmed headache was only beginning to fade. Alec curled up with his hands over his ears as he’d wanted to before and let himself cry, silent sobs that rocked through him. 

He didn’t know how long his breakdown lasted, only that eventually he fell asleep, still on the couch, muscles aching but finally relaxing into the blissful, golden silence. 

~

Alec woke up to gentle fingers combing through his hair, and he knew who it was even before he opened his eyes. To his relief, words rose easily to his lips when he tried to speak. “Magnus.” 

Magnus smiled down at him. “Bad day, hm?”

“The Institute is always too loud,” Alec mumbled. “And with the new recruits tramping around everywhere and screaming at the top of their lungs…” 

There was empathy in Magnus’ eyes. “It got to be too much.” 

“I shouldn’t’ve let it get to me,” Alec huffed. “I should’ve—”

“You did the right thing, coming home,” Magnus said firmly, his fingers still running through Alec’s hair. 

Alec let out a breath at the reassurance and leaned deeper into Magnus’ touch, letting the gentleness of it lull him back down to sleep. 

~

When Alec got back from the Institute the next day — he’d managed to keep the overwhelmed feeling to a minimum; it helped that the recruits were following a schedule rather than wandering around having fun — he found Magnus in his apothecary, holding something in his hands. 

He turned at Alec’s approach, smiling. “I’ve got something for you.” 

Alec took the object he held out, which turned out to be a pair of noise-cancelling headphones — sleek-looking, black, gentle chrome highlights. “What’s this?”

Magnus hesitated slightly, fingers rubbing together. “It’s fine if you don’t like it, obviously, don’t feel obliged to use it if it’s not helpful—”

“Magnus,” Alec said, interrupting him with a smile. “Tell me what it is. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“Alright.” Magnus took a breath. “I’ve been working on enchanting the headphones to help you a bit at the Institute. I realise that completely noise-cancelling headphones wouldn’t be a good idea since you’ll need to hear what’s going on, but I figured something out that’ll hopefully cut down on the ambient noise; it’s not tested so I’m not sure how effective it’ll be, but—”

Alec kissed him, a gentle press of the lips. “Thank you, Magnus. This is amazing.” 

Magnus grinned, relieved. “It’ll turn invisible if you press this button on the side—” he pointed it out “—so you can wear them in a meeting or whatever, too. And you can play music on it if you like.” 

“I love you,” Alec said, and kissed Magnus a little helplessly, because it was so very Magnus to invent a completely new kind of magic to help Alec be more comfortable. 

~

The next day, Alec walked into the Institute with the headphones on, and the space was suddenly calmer, quieter, happier. It felt like he’d taken a bit of the loft with him to work, like that golden peace was sitting curled in the headphones, cradling him. He could hear Underhill’s report with perfect clarity, but with none of the harsh, grating echoes that usually resounded through the Institute. 

Alec smiled, feeling like the weight of the world had just lifted off of his shoulders, and let himself relax into the blissful quiet.

[sarcasticdolphin]

Todolf music conservatory au “Calm”

Colloredo cameo but this is mostly todolf. The usual relationship problems.

Rudolf hated every second he had to stare at the closed door. Tod and Dean Colloredo hadn’t been inside for more than ten minutes, if that, but he just wanted all this to be over. He wanted Tod. 

He glanced down at the sheet music. He’d decided to try and study but his fingers were trembling and he couldn’t concentrate.

The door to Tod’s office finally opened and the dean exited. Rudolf supposed he should have cared whether or not the dean saw him, that he had run straight to Tod. But as he packs his sheet music he doesn’t care. He needs Tod’s warm soothing touch.

Later he realized he should have gone to Tod’s house, and waited for him there, but the panic that was still so present beneath his skin prevented any course of action besides going straight to Tod.

He’s all the way into a panic attack by the time he gets to the door, by the time Tod’s shut it again, pulled him close. He’s talking, too - Rudolf can feel the vibrations in Tod’s chest, but what the words are, he will never know. Tod’s warm hands and strong arms, though - everything starts to subside, then Tod’s hand comes up to gently cover his eyes.

The darkness is comforting in a way he hadn’t expected - there’s nothing to his world but Tod, and Rudolf’s breathing starts to slow, to even out. His heartbeat slows, returning to normal, and when Tod removes his hand, they aren’t in his office any longer.

“Tod?” He asks, but Tod just gently strokes his cheek as Rudolf finds a yawn overtaking him.

“It’s been a long week.” Rudolf found himself nodding along with Tod’s statement.

Tod passes him over to the two young men, and they escort him to the bathroom, undress him, and get him into a soothing bath. Rudolf supposes he should be embarrassed at his nudity, but he isn’t. And even then, he’s too tired.

Tod’s servants - for that is what Rudolf thinks they must be after having met the pair a number of times - quickly dry him and dress him in black silk before shepherding him back to a bedroom that is so very familiar. Rudolf slides into bed, musing on the two young men. Perhaps they are Tod’s cousins. They certainly look enough like him.

He’s pleasantly dozing when Tod returns, hair damp and wearing clothes that match the ones Rudolf wears. Come to think of it, the clothes on Rudolf are a bit big, so perhaps they are Tod’s.

Tod slides into bed beside Rudolf, gently pulling the young man into his lap. “Better?” The question is soft, just for Rudolf’s ears.

Rudolf leans a little closer. Tod’s lips look so soft and inviting and Rudolf wants nothing more than to taste them, damn the consequences, but it wouldn’t be right. “Yes.” He hopes Tod can hear the reverence in his voice.

Tod pulls him closer, so he can lay his head on Tod’s strong chest, revel in the warmth. 

And then Tod begins to sing. The words are almost irrelevant, but Rudolf does hear them - a long of shadows, of a clock ticking down, of a circle viciously tightening. But the tenor of his voice - Rudolf is spellbound. Time doesn’t exist for him anymore, just the marvel that is Tod’s voice. He’d always kind of assumed the other’s instrument was the piano - that’s what Rudolf heard him play most often and he was very good on it, but it was nothing compared to his voice.

His eyes were so heavy, and Rudolf let them flutter shut, savoring his time alone with Tod’s song before sleep claimed him.

---------

He wakes ensconced in warmth and softness, but alone. The twilight half-sleep that he hums in, pleasantly restful, almost feels dreamlike. 

A gentle music lilts across the air, flowing so wonderfully. Rudolf knows some of the tunes, while others are entirely foreign to him until one that is all too familiar reaches his ears, the chords coming to his fingers even as Rudolf rises and follows the music.

Tod is at the piano, still playing Rudolf’s project, when Rudolf slides onto the piano bench beside him. He finishes the last few lines, Rudolf tapping them out on his thigh out of habit as he does before turning to Rudolf.

“You’ve done well.”

Rudolf can feel the flush in his cheeks as he looks down. “Thank you.”

Tod’s fingers grasp his chin, and bring his eyes to Tod’s before stroking Rudolf’s cheek in a gentle, comforting way. “You’re so talented, Rudolf. And you’ve honed that talent to perfection.”

Rudolf murmurs another thanks, softer this time, and lets his head fall on Tod’s shoulder. It’s as much as he dares, but Tod accepts it, moving to the next score. 

Rudolf recognizes the scrawled notes before he even looks at the obnoxiously large signature. The music of Wolfgang Mozart is unmistakable. 

But he doesn’t care about it, not at all. All that matters is Tod, beside him. His will. Rudolf would do anything for him, just now. If Tod bent him over the piano bench he’d go willingly. If Tod put him on his knees, he’d do it. Even if Tod decided to wring the life from Rudolf’s very body, he’d lay there and let Tod do whatever he pleased, however he pleased.

But Tod doesn’t ask anything of him. They simply pass that Saturday morning at the piano, Tod grading scores and Rudolf beside him, providing company, companionship, and the occasional comment. 

[saintshigaraki]

THESE ARE HARD TIMES FOR DREAMERS

title from bones by ms mr

pairing: yandere nanami kento x f!reader

word count: 2.6k

excerpt: You wish you’d studied the stars more, ingrained them so deeply into your psyche that you’d carry the night sky with you, always. 

You wish they’d never been stolen from you in the first place.

a/n: nanami if ur reading this i’m free thursday night. 

tags: yandere, angst, reader is once again full of rage, nanami love what have you done, overuse of the word hate

warnings: yandere tendencies, obsessive and possessive behavior, slight infantilization, noncon/dubcon, gaslighting (?), kidnapping, slight stockholm syndrome, mention of past suicide attempt 

MDNI!

You can’t exactly pinpoint where it all went south. There’s not a specific date that stands out to you when you actively noticed things taking a turn for the worst. It’s like that fable. About the frog slowly being boiled alive. Except, in this case, the frog is you and the boiling water is Nanami. And in this case, this is not some story your mom used to read to you about the dangers of gradual escalation, it’s your life. If you can even call this monotonous hell you’re living a life. 

You’ve got to hand it to him, you really didn’t see it coming. Nanami’s always been smart like that. Even now, after everything, or maybe even especially now, after everything, you can’t deny that. 

You don’t bother moving from where you lay, sprawled out on the floor, when you hear the first click of many locks signaling that your sweet and doting lover has returned. 

You used to try to rush him, or get the jump on him with the heaviest thing you could find. Once you started to get really desperate, you just screamed over his shoulder before he had time to clamp a large hand over your mouth. 

None of it ever worked, of course. 

It was months ago that you decided hopeless escape attempts simply weren’t worth Nanami’s wrath. He’s faster than you, stronger than you, and far bigger. And he always will be. 

When your relationship with Nanami was still somewhat normal (though looking back you can’t help but notice all the things that weren’t normal, you suppose hindsight really can be quite the bitch in that regard) you never really thought too hard about how much stronger he was compared to you. In some ways, it might’ve even been comforting, instead of just horribly depressing. No one could touch you when your hand was tucked in his. 

It hurts more than you’d like to admit that something you once found such solace in, is now what stands between you and any semblance of normalcy and shred of happiness. 

(And fresh air. God, you miss fresh air so much it hurts, a dull never-ceasing ache deep in your chest. You miss the stars too. Sometimes, when you’re laying on the floor like you are now or in the dead of night when it’s all you can do to swallow down your screams, you try to map out constellations on the ceiling. You’re not very good at it though, and the few constellations you actually remember are starting to slip from your memory like water through fingers, no matter how desperately you try to hold onto them.

You wish you’d studied the stars more, ingrained them so deeply into your psyche that you’d carry the night sky with you, always. 

You wish they’d never been stolen from you in the first place.)

It takes Nanami’s slightly disapproving hum to snap you out of your celestial spiraling. 

You tilt your head back, just enough to find he’s towering over you. His mouth set in a grim line. His glasses, jacket, and tie have already been discarded, his shirt rolled up to his forearms. The sight of him like this use to make your cheeks burn. Now, it’s hard to rein in the urge to spit at his feet and hiss out every seething thought you have about him burning below the surface. 

But the lecture you’d receive after a ‘tantrum’ like that wouldn’t be worth it. He always manages to twist your words, your own feelings, sometimes even your very sense of self, until you can hardly tell what’s up and what’s down. Until you can hardly distinguish your reality from his. Until all you can hear is Nanami’s voice in your ear, reminding you of everything you’ll never be. Of just how helpless you are. 

(It’s like his hands are around your throat, choking and choking and choking.)

And once you’re nothing but a sobbing heap on the floor, he’ll pull you into his lap, tuck your face against the curve of his shoulder, and rub soothing circles into your back while saying something along the lines of ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll always be here take care of you’ until your sobs have quieted to the occasional hiccup.

You hate it, how he manages to make you feel so dependent on him. He’s so, so good at knowing just what string to pull so that you’ll unravel completely, just so he can put you back together again with his painstakingly gentle hands. 

Nanami’s smart like that. 

So, you’ve learned to bite your tongue. 

“You’re insistence on laying on the dirty floor when we have a perfectly good couch and bed truly astounds me,” he says, monotone. 

You don’t justify his sarcasm with a response, partly to stall what inevitably will come after this and partly to annoy him. Nanami doesn’t like it when you ignore him. It’s one of the few things you have the power to do that manages to get under his skin. 

It’s these little rebellions, you’ve found, that make all the difference. 

You eye the couch warily, it’s plush and huge. The perfect place for an afternoon nap. Nanami had traded out the smaller one he’d had before, for this one, a few months after you’d started dating. He’d wanted one big enough that you two could comfortably lay together as you slept and he read. You spent countless hours there, tucked into his side, with the setting sun warming your skin. 

It’s also where you had told him that you wanted to end things. That he’d gotten too overbearing, too controlling. That you felt suffocated. That you still loved him dearly, but that you couldn’t do this anymore. It’s where you left him as you walked out with only a single bag in hand. 

That night you went to sleep in some shady motel room and woke up back in Nanami’s bed with a padded handcuff chaining you to the frame. 

These memories from before have a way of coming back to haunt you, they pass through the walls, whispering poison in your ears, caressing your skin one moment just to dig their claws in deep the next. 

They mock you as you sit and rot and dream of stars you’ll never see again. 

“You’re stalling.” He always manages to sound so distinctly unimpressed with you whenever you don’t follow one of his unwritten rules (and God even if you were actively trying to follow them, there are so many that keeping track of them is nothing short of an impossible feat).

You finally get to your feet, wringing your hands in a way that you know makes you look weak and pathetic. Just the way Nanami likes you so that he can swoop in and take such good care of his little darling love. 

“Kento, I-” 

“Save it,” he says, already walking towards the bedroom. 

You could put up a fight, but all that’d do is make him angry, and then you’d have to do what he wanted anyway and deal with being tethered back to the bed for a few days while Nanami fusses over you like some sort of deranged mother hen.

You make your way over to the bedroom, already starting to strip, ready to get this over with as soon as possible. 

You’re half-naked by the time you enter his room. 

Even after months and months of this, the humiliation of standing nearly naked in front of him while he stays fully dressed never dulls, it’s still just as sharp and awful as the first time he made you do it. 

(It’s like you’re peeling back your own skin, defenseless as he rubs salt in the wound.) 

You suppose you should feel lucky that he lets you keep on your bra and underwear. Not that the undergarments he bought you really cover all that much, but in these four walls, beggars can’t exactly be choosers. 

He takes off his watch, setting it carefully onto his dresser before walking over to you and starting his nightly inspection for any cuts or bruises you may have received (or given yourself) throughout the day while he was off at work. Off in the world you’ll never see again. Just the thought is enough to make you want to scream. 

You used to be able to wiggle your way out of this, before the incident, as Nanami has dubbed it, but now it’d be a cold day in hell before he doesn’t painstakingly go over (almost) every inch of your skin with a careful eye and calloused hands. 

His thumb always brushes terribly gently over the scar a few centimeters to the right of one of your jugular veins, where you had attempted to slit your throat after you realized that you would probably never escape this place. Never escape him. 

You’d never seen Nanami as scared as when he walked in on you holding a knife to your throat. And you’d never seen him as angry as after he’d wrenched it from your hand using a type of speed that shouldn’t even be humanly possible. 

He took a full month off work after that which coincidently also happened to be the worst fucking month of your life. 

He cups your face in his large hand and presses a kiss to your temple. A sign that he’s deemed you just as pristine as when he left you and that he’s very pleased by it. 

You want to bite his hand. You want to rip his flesh from the bone. You want to hold his heart in your hand and crush it. 

(You want to go home. You want to feel the earth beneath your bare feet. You want to sit on a roof in your childhood neighborhood and watch the sun dip below the horizon and drown the world in golden light. You want to step out on an autumn day with winter just around the corner and smell the crispness in the air, feel it claw its way into your lungs. 

You want to remember what it’s like to be human.)

Nanami’s lips are on yours before you can think, soft and enticing. You could push him away or just say no. He’d listen. Not even he can apparently justifying forcing you. 

(We all have our limits, don’t we?)

But you don’t. You haven’t in a long while. And you hate yourself for it more than you could ever hate him.

He loses his shirt rather quickly and you manage to discard your bra before he lifts you up and tosses you on the bed. You don’t get a second to breathe before he’s over you, monstrous and awful and so terribly beautiful. 

He takes a moment to caress your face, his knuckles brushing over your cheek so tenderly that it nearly makes you sick. You’re thankful when he finally says, “Open up.” 

You do as he says and in the next second two of his fingers are stuffed into your waiting mouth. 

“Suck.” 

And you do, without hesitation, because you know what’s coming next. You know that for the next hour or so, there’ll be no denying the fact that you’re alive, that you’re not some ghost haunting these halls. It’ll prove that it’s blood that flows through your veins instead of stone, that you have not yet started to rot in your own skin. 

He he pulls his fingers from your mouth without a word and leaves a trail of burning kisses down your sternum and stomach. He wastes no time pulling your underwear off and attaching his calloused thumb to your clit, rubbing tight little circles in a way that has you keening almost immediately. 

In an embarrassingly short amount of time you’re wet enough for him to comfortably slip a finger in. Just one of them reaches spots you never quite manage to hit on your own, and you hate how much you love it. It has you moaning, nearly loud enough to drown out the lewd squelching by the time he adds a second finger. 

“You’re so, so good for me,” he murmurs, voice rough. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You hate that the praise has you clenching his fingers in a near vice grip. You hate that he still affects you in any way after what he’s done to you. After what he’s reduced you to. 

You don’t have time to stew in your self-loathing before his fingers find that spongy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. 

(And this is the reason you don’t push him away. 

You’ll never step foot under the night sky again. But here, with his fingers hitting all the right spots in your cunt, you’ll make your own galaxy and pretend that it holds a candle to the real thing.)

With the pace he sets, his constant low grunts of just how lovely you are creaming around his fingers, and the way his thumb never lets up on your puffy clit, you’re coming within minutes, you spasm around his digits so hard that the stars you so love burst behind your tightly shut eyelids. 

He eases his fingers out of you and licks them clean, his dark eyes half-lidded and nearly glowing in the dimly lit bedroom, burning straight through you. 

You’re the one to look away first. You always are. Shame settling heavily in your gut. Shame that you enjoyed it, shame that you didn’t push him, shame that you’ll do this all over again tomorrow.  

When he finally sinks into you, he does it slowly. Sometimes you wish he wouldn’t, sometimes you wish he’d make it hurt. It’d be easier to hate him instead of yourself if he did. 

When Kento fucks you like this, chest to chest, there’s not a single part of you not swallowed whole by him. 

You hate it. 

You hate yourself more for moaning when he changes the angle and starts fucking you so hard and fast that your hands can’t help but scramble for anything to hang on to, they tear down his back, drawing blood which seems to only spur him on to go harder. 

“Kento I-- I’m-,” but you can’t finish the sentence, not when you can feel your orgasm teetering on the edge, so, so close that it’s painful, you just need- 

“You want to come?” He asks, his voice annoyingly steady.  

It’s unfair of him to expect you to be able to answer when he has you nearly folded in half. You can hardly even think. 

(But when has Kento ever really been fair?)

“Use your words, darling.” His lips are right against your ear, his tone unbearably condescending, and maybe a bit mocking. 

You hate him for asking you to beg. 

You hate yourself more for giving in. 

“Kento, please,” you whine. 

He laughs, low and mean, you feel it in your own chest and for a moment it really is as though you are nothing but an extension of him, a limb left useless without Nanami guiding you. You hate it. You hate it.

Eventually, he relents and brings his thumb back down to your clit, resuming those tight, firm circles, and that’s all you needed to finally push you over the edge.  

This time, when you come, there are no stars to comfort you. Just Kento’s eyes, bright and burning. 

Your cunt clamping down on his cock is all it takes for him to let out a low groan and still completely inside you, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt is awful in it’s familiarity. 

His eyes finally close as he drops his forehead against yours, breathing your air and forcing you to breathe his. 

He closes the gap between your lips, gently, sweetly. You can almost pretend for a moment that this is the Kento you knew years ago. Who held you so sweetly and smiled when you smiled. 

You don’t realize you’re crying until he kisses your temple tenderly and wipes away your tears. He’s not worried, you cry more often than not after he fucks you. You don’t really want to think about why. 

You let your mind wander as he carries you bridal style to the bathroom, where in a minute he’ll run a warm bath for you two to share, then afterwards he’ll dry you off with the utmost tenderness, then dress you himself before carrying you to the kitchen where he’ll set you on the counter as he makes dinner (you won’t be allowed to help, of course) then he’ll force every last bite down your throat if you refuse to eat (he hasn’t had to do that in a long while though), then he’ll have you curl up on his lap, head tucked into his shoulder, as he reads. After about an hour he’ll bring you back to the bathroom where he’ll brush your teeth for you because you never do it right, and then he’ll drag you into bed no later than 10:30 PM so that you can do it all over again tomorrow. 

“Do you want the lavender or rose soap today?” Nanami asks you. 

You ignore him in favor of trying to remember the details of your galaxy, but it’s already faded away to nothing by the time you close your eyes. 

a/n pt 2: i feel like it was painfully obvious that this was my first attempt ever at smut. i’m so sorry yall. i really did try. 

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: not an ending, but a middle.

this chapter was ridiculously difficult to write and edit. it tops out at 7.5k words so… beware

***

Cassian and Nesta make full use of the summer house without his friends there, making love on every other surface just because they’re all alone and they can. Nesta shows a soft spot in particular for having sex in Cassian’s old bed, proving to him that she can be just as sentimental as he is.

Which is how they end up sprawled naked on the living room floor early the next morning, fast asleep in each other’s arms with nothing but a throw blanket to cover them.

Cassian is woken up by the sound of the front door being flung open, followed promptly by a feminine yelp as the intruder catches sight of the tangled couple in the living room. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cassian whips his head up to find who interrupted his sleep, and his nostrils flare in shock when he sees Mor at the entryway. He carefully but swiftly moves his arm out from under Nesta’s head and replaces it with a nearby pillow before starting to stand up. “What the hell are you doing—”

“Fuck no, I can see your ass—No, now I can see your dick!” Mor squeals in disgust, promptly spinning around and clapping her hands over her eyes like she can burn the image out of her mind.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cassian whisper-hisses at her, throwing a worried glance at Nesta’s still sleeping form. She doesn’t shift an inch.

Scooping up his flannel sleep pants from the floor, Cassian pulls them on while Mor makes gagging noises with her back to him.

Spying a pair of underwear flung over the arm of a chair, she bends to pick them up with two pinched fingers and turns to face Cassian, who’s now appropriately covered. Heavy judgment wrinkles her nose as she casts a glance to the owner of the panties, then to Cassian. “Granny panties, Cass? Is this what your sex life has been reduced to?”

“Don’t touch Nesta’s underwear.” He stalks over to Mor and snatches them out of her hand, before grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her off into the kitchen.

She shakes him off once they’re out of earshot from Nesta and takes a seat across from him at the wooden breakfast table. She brushes her golden hair over a shoulder and smirks. “Someone’s been having fun on their own while waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.”

“What are you doing here?” Cassian repeats.

Mor waves a languid hand dismissively. “I ended up taking a commercial flight. I wasn’t a fan of being stuck on the same private plane as Az and Elain.”

Cassian blows out a tight breath, wishing he’d at least gotten some warning before his plans for the day were ruined. Plans that included taking Nesta in the lake before breakfast.

“But seriously,” Mor glances over her shoulder in the direction of the living room, “what’s up with the prude panties? I thought you would’ve thawed that ice pussy by n…” She trails off at the look on Cassian’s face, and a glimpse of fear crosses her own face. She forces a nervous laugh and twists her fingers together. “I suddenly remember making a promise a while ago,” she murmurs while staring down at the table.

“It’s a good thing you remember,” Cassian says stoically, “because I was just about to bring it up.”

“I know, I know, no criticizing your girlfriend.” Mor rolls her eyes.

“It’s about a lot more than that,” he grits. “It’s about how you’re only wary of her because you don’t trust me to choose who I give my love to. It’s about how you don’t respect my decision enough to maintain boundaries when you talk about Nesta.”

For once, Mor looks put off her game. “I never meant it like that,” she tries to say.

“That’s what it looks like,” Cassian retorts. “It looks like you’re judging someone you have no right to judge, like you’re trying to protect me from an imaginary threat.”

Mor coughs aloud. “Do I really need a scolding for a girl I see maybe twice a year? I haven’t even thought about Nesta since the New Year’s party.”

“It’s not a scolding,” Cassian says firmly. “It’s an order to be on your best behavior for the duration of this vacation, because the sisters and I went through a lot to get Nesta to come here. There will be no catfights, or backtalk, or rude looks and snide tones until we’ve returned home. The same applies for everyone else once they get here.”

“Or, how about this? I’ll stop making ice pussy jokes if you stop being this…” Mor waves a hand up and down at Cassian’s shirtless figure with a grimace, “unrecognizable creature with the tension of a forty year old single dad.”

Is Cassian tense? Of course he’s fucking tense. The last time he convinced Nesta to go to a family event with him was Christmas Eve, and he’s never letting that mistake be repeated ever again. His glare confirms it.

“Morrigan,” he says lowly with a hint of warning.

“Okay, okay,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in surrender. “But for the record, I’ve never said anything rude to your girlfriend’s face, and I never plan to.”

Cassian crosses his brown arms across his chest. “No, you’ve only done it to my face.”

Guilt crosses Mor’s features for the quickest second. “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip. “In that case, I’ll pull back from now on.”

He releases a terse breath. “Good.” Now to hammer the message into anyone else who might threaten the quiet solitude he and Nesta have found here.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she adds somewhat apologetically. “You know I just want the best for you.”

“And you know I already know what’s best for me.”

Mor dips her head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Can we go back to normal, then? I don’t like feeling like your adversary.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief, and his crossed arms fall away. “Of course, Mor.”

Like flipping a switch, Mor claps her hands together. “Good. I left my luggage in the rental car and it’s super heavy; I brought enough clothes for three outfit changes a day. Why don’t you put those big strong muscles to work while I get settled into my room?”

Before Cassian can object, she’s out of her seat and flouncing out of the kitchen. From the entry hall, Cassian can hear Mor say perkily, “Good morning, Nesta! Love the undies.”

Cassian drops his head onto the table with a thud, lifts it, then drops it again. Mor is going to be a work in progress.

“You okay?” A voice makes Cassian look up from the wooden table. Nesta stands in the kitchen entryway wearing nothing but Cassian’s shirt, and her hair is a rumpled mess from sleep. Her hands twisting into the hem of his tee tells him she couldn’t be less excited about Mor’s early arrival, though the rest of her doesn’t show it.

Exhausted apprehensiveness drops in Cassian’s gut. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks warily.

“Not much. I just woke up a minute ago and heard your voices.” She comes over to him and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Why, were you guys arguing?”

Cassian slings his arm around Nesta’s waist, basking in her warmth. “Not exactly.”

She frowns. “Was it about me?”

“It was about Mor.”

She nudges him. “Will you tell me about it?”

“No,” he quips, yanking her down onto his lap. He pecks a kiss onto her lips. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Nesta hums to herself. “So our morning plans are out the window?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Yup.”

“Does Mor actually like my undies?”

“Nope.”

***

The rest of Cassian’s friends and Nesta’s family arrive by late afternoon, piling out of a dark SUV in a frenzy of noise and colors. Nesta forgot how… many of them there were.

She lets Cassian and Mor handle the greetings, choosing to observe everyone from her spot near the stairs.

Azriel is the first to catch her eyes. He looks the same as ever, dressed head to toe in black even in the middle of a heat wave. Elain is an overdressed peacock in comparison to him, not that anyone would be comparing them, because they carefully stand at opposite ends of the entry hall.

He sends a simple nod Nesta’s way, which makes her narrow her eyes. Does he think he can act too cool for her just because they haven’t talked in a while? Idiot.

Feyre notices Nesta next and waves her arms wildly. “Get over here!”

Nesta reluctantly pulls away from the banister and nears their group, offering only a half smile to everyone there before hiding behind her sisters. Cassian cuts a glance her way in solidarity, and it feels like a pillar of reinforcement against her wavering self. She scrambles around for a solid ten seconds for something to say, either to her sisters or to the whole group, and finally comes up with, “What are we having for dinner?”

“That’s still hours away,” Rhysand assures. “Everyone scram and put your shit up first.”

“The girl has a point,” Amren grumbles. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, Rhys, can we have an early dinner?” Mor whines.

And just like that, Nesta has melted into the background again. Which might be for the best, considering how loud it is right now.

Feeling overwhelmed, Nesta checks on Feyre and Elain to make sure they’re not paying attention to her, and then meets Cassian’s gaze through all the luggage and bodies. Tilting her head toward the back door to let him know that she’s leaving, she silently slips down the hall and out of the house.

Outside in the gardens, the light breeze soothes her heightened senses. It’s hot as shit at this hour, but she’ll take it for the peace and quiet.

Only a few minutes into her getaway, however, Nesta hears the porch door open behind her. Her shoulders stiffen when she hears footsteps that don’t belong to Cassian. There goes her peace and quiet.

Nesta is surprised to find Amren slinking up to her side, her small head appearing at Nesta’s shoulder.

Discomfort crawls through Nesta’s bones at the woman’s unexpected presence. It’s a subtle sense of wrongness, like being in the proximity of a predator but not having enough information to guess how they’ll attack.

“Hiding out from Rhysie’s big bad inner circle?” Amren taunts.

Nesta stiffens. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be thrown in her face.

“I suppose I can’t blame you,” she goes on. “We can be a scary group.”

“I’m not scared of anybody,” Nesta says, keeping her focus glued to the trees’ cherry blossoms. “I just wanted fresh air.”

“And I’ve wanted to find out what Cassian sees in you ever since he gave me that verbal lashing about being nice to his new girlfriend.” Amren turns to face Nesta fully, closing in. “What kind of pussy grip can a woman have to make Cassian of all men heel?” She hisses in a thoughtful breath through her teeth.

Nesta only shrugs, but her interest is piqued at the idea of Cassian warning Amren away from her. She definitely doesn’t need the protection, and once would have found it offensive, but… she likes the idea of someone standing up for her, being unapologetically on her side even if they have no good reason to do it. The only other times she can remember feeling defended were brief, subtle childhood instances with Feyre and Elain, and that was only because blood instinctively defends blood. It’s different to feel chosen. It makes her chest crack.

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Amren throws out, “Are you on the spectrum or what?”

Nesta again doesn’t reply.

“No one mentioned it, but I assumed as soon as I saw you.”

“It’s rude to make assumptions,” Nesta says, her voice cool as a running river.

Amren barks a laugh that sounds like a whip lashing. “I like you, girl.”

Nesta finally meets Amren’s silver gaze and states, “I don’t like you.” Her tone is blunt, to the point—but if she has to participate in this twisted version of small talk, then she should at least get to be honest.

Amren laughs aloud again, as if that genuinely amuses her. Nesta doesn’t know how amused Amren will be when she realizes that Nesta is serious.

She shrugs to herself, turning back to face the garden. It isn’t her problem, she decides.

***

“Even for you, this is overprotective.” Rhys’s voice comes from behind Cassian, who stands at the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen that peers out onto the gardens. He’s been watching Amren converse with Nesta for the last seven minutes—or rather, he’s been watching Nesta, inspecting her body language to gauge her discomfort.

It was a struggle not to hold his arm across the back door and block Amren from following after Nesta earlier. Amren had the look of a cat going out to play with a new toy, and Cassian had nearly snarled at her for it until she gave him that expression: the raised brow and sneer that said Really, Cassian? Pathetic.

It made him think of how Nesta would feel if she knew he was trying to physically keep people away from her, and he managed to have enough shame to move aside and let Amren pass with only a warning look.

So far though, it looks like Nesta is handling herself just fine. He should’ve known better than to underestimate her.

When Rhys doesn’t get a response, he comes up to stand at Cassian’s side and get a look through the glass door. “I never thought you’d be applying your passion for security to your damn girlfriend.” Rhys lets out a low whistle.

Without taking his eyes off Nesta and Amren, Cassian tells Rhys, “Protecting her is protecting myself. When she gets hurt, I feel it twofold.” And he really doesn’t want to be hurt on this vacation. Nesta already thinks he’s a crybaby as it is.

Rhys is silent for a long minute, as if he can’t deny that he would feel the same way for his own girlfriend. Eventually he says, “I might finally understand what’s going on in your brain whenever you’re around her.”

Cassian only nods.

Rhysand claps his hand down suddenly on Cassian’s shoulder, breaking the somberness of his confession. “Call them in to help make dinner,” Rhys orders. “I want all hands on deck tonight.”

Cassian looks at his brother with narrowed eyes. “And what will you be doing to help?”

“I’ll be watching the game on the nice TV that I paid for, in the beautiful new living room I also paid for.”

“Bastard.”

***

Nesta and Azriel help prepare dinner in silence. Their quiet acknowledgment of each other is better than any words could be, but it’s all shattered when Mor dumps a serving platter on the counter right next to Azriel.

“Ooh, ricotta-stuffed mushrooms!” She grabs a handful and starts arranging them onto her platter. “Az, how was your mystery weekend away? I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

Azriel shares an unreadable glance with Nesta before sliding his chicken parmesan dish toward her and saying loudly, “Wow, is that football?” He promptly turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

Nesta glares after him in disbelief, but Azriel can’t hear her wordless cries for help because he’s already in the living room.

Left alone at the kitchen counter with Morrigan, Nesta keeps wiping at the wine glasses that have been gathering dust in the cupboards. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Mor’s mouth is tightened into a displeased line.

Not that Nesta isn’t grateful for it, but Mor usually isn’t one to keep her mouth shut. She wonders if something is wrong that she doesn’t know about. “You look constipated,” Nesta tells Mor under her breath. “Anything you want to get out?”

Mor only scoffs in indignation. Then she shakes her head and mutters to herself, “I promised not to say anything.”

Now Nesta is really intrigued. “Promised who?” she prods. “Cassian?”

“Like you don’t know about it.” Mor rolls her dark eyes.

Nesta doesn’t know, though after Amren’s comment earlier she might have a hint. “I would prefer you be honest with me rather than follow Cassian’s orders.”

“That’s funny, so do I.” Mor plucks up a stuffed mushroom and shoves it into her mouth.

Nesta thinks back to how she woke up to Cassian and Mor’s voices lowered in seriousness. After what Nesta overheard on New Year’s Eve, it’s no secret that Morrigan doesn’t care for her, but she suddenly has the urge to have it said to her face. “Well, if you want to stop holding back with me, I won’t tell.”

Morrigan sets down her mushroom platter with a thump, turning to face Nesta like she’s done her a personal wrong. “You know what I know about you, Nesta?” Mor says. “I know that Cassian has changed since he’s gotten with you. I know that he’s more serious whenever he’s around you. I know that you don’t love him as much as he loves you. How can Cassian expect me to trust someone that doesn’t want to be around his own family? How can he expect me to trust you with his heart? Not that I’m allowed to be saying any of this, because I’m supposed to be hiding my feelings about you to stop my best friend from hating me.”

It’s crazy how a year ago those words would have been enough to make Nesta retreat to her room and never come out again. Each statement pricks like a shard of glass against her skin, though none of them are accurate or true.

And yet Nesta finds herself hurting more for Cassian than for herself. She feels her familiar old mask go up around her face and harden there.

“It sounds like your problem is more with Cassian than it is with me,” Nesta says stoically. “Because I won’t be going through any trials to prove myself. I have nothing to prove. I don’t care if you like me or not, if you’re nice to my face or cruel behind my back—but it’s rude to shit over your friend’s life choices like that. He’ll stop trusting you if you keep it up, and it won’t be my fault when it happens,” Nesta finishes. She wordlessly gathers the wine glasses in her hands and abandons a silent Morrigan to go set the table.

Nesta knows the dynamic at dinner is off with her presence there.

For once, Cassian’s priorities lie somewhere other than laughing with his friends. He keeps a protective hand on Nesta’s thigh from the moment they take their seats, and he only removes it when he’s filling her plate with food.

With memories of Christmas dinner hanging over all of them, Cassian looks like a bodyguard prepared for attack— except he’s contributing to a good half of the tension at the table.

“How was the drive here?” Feyre pokes at the two of them in an attempt to break the ice. Nesta glances to Cassian for his response, but his attention is taken by the platter of bread rolls.

Sighing internally, Nesta answers, “Better than yours, that’s for sure.”

Everyone laughs hesitantly. A steaming bread roll then appears on Nesta’s plate, golden and fluffy with a buttery aroma; one glance at the rest of the bread tells her it was the biggest roll in the pile.

Nesta drops her walls enough to give Cassian a small smile and an arm rub of appreciation, and then she reaches straight for the bottle of wine.

She loves Cassian and hates this dinner too much to allow this to go on.

After filling Cassian’s empty glass high with Merlot, Nesta presses it into his free hand with a subtle kiss on his cheek. “Relax a little,” she murmurs into his ear.

It takes ten minutes and two full glasses for her plan to take effect, but relax Cassian does. Like oil slipping through rusted gears, the tension in the room slowly unwinds and natural conversation starts to flow.

“You guys will not believe what I had to walk in on this morning,” Mor announces at one point during the meal.

“Yeah, yeah, Cassian’s ass and dick, we’ve already heard,” Amren says.

Cassian’s glare at Mor is more lighthearted than life-threatening. “This is why I can’t talk to you anymore,” he states, pointing a finger at her. Nesta is so glad for the lack of tension in his shoulders that she doesn’t even care if everyone basically knows about her having sex in the living room.

With Cassian acting more like his normal self, the pressure to make useless small talk is no longer on her. Nesta is content to watch everybody share stories and laughter, but for once she doesn’t feel like an audience member on the outside looking in. Maybe it’s because no matter how much Cassian drinks, his hand stays steady on her leg the whole night, keeping her rooted there with everybody else. He doesn’t let her fade into the background for a second.

“What’s that on your wrist, Az?” Mor’s voice rings from one head of the table. Azriel snatches his hand back in a flash before Mor can reach for it. From his other side, Nesta grabs it smoothly out of the air to take a look at the cause of Mor’s question.

She raises her brow at the sight of three colorful bracelets lining Azriel’s right wrist.

Az tries to pull his hand away, but Nesta’s hold is tight. Even if the signature of the maker wasn’t stamped onto one of the childish bracelets, she would know who had made them with one glance.

“What does it say?” Mor asks her.

“Nothing. Just some beads.” Nesta pulls Azriel’s dark sleeve over the beads that spell out GWYN’S BITCH and gives his arm a little pat. She sincerely hopes Elain is thoroughly over Azriel by now.

“Was that Rainbow Loom I saw? Since when did you wear kiddy bracelets?” Mor snorts at Az.

Nesta’s attention is pulled away from their conversation by a heavy head falling onto her shoulder. “Nestaaa,” Cassian slurs, slumping against her side.

Blushing at the attention he’s drawing to her, Nesta tries to shove a drunk Cassian back upright. “I think we need to get you to bed.”

“Oh really? Promise you’ll tuck me in?” He tries to wink at her, but it comes off as a strained blink.

He looks ridiculous. It isn’t helping the blush on her cheeks, though.

“I promise.” Nesta shoves her finished plate aside and grabs Cassian by the bicep, standing up and attempting to drag him with her. “Come on, I’ll take you right now.”

Mor is quick to get to her feet. “We can take him,” she offers eagerly.

“Who’s we?” Azriel mutters. Nesta hears a hard stomp, and then Az is coughing, jumping out of his seat after Mor. “Yeah, we’ll take him,” he says.

Nesta reluctantly lets Cassian slip out of her grasp as Morrigan and Azriel take one of his arms from either side.

“Wait, but I want Nesta to tuck me in!” Cassian twists around as he’s dragged away, drunkenly finding Nesta’s gaze. He’s pouting.

Affection battles with secondhand embarrassment and wins. “I’ll be right there,” she promises with a wave. As soon as Mor and Azriel accomplish whatever it is they’re trying to accomplish. Her voice flattens into a cold warning when she adds after them, “Be careful with him.”

Daring a quick glance back at the table, Nesta wants to cringe when she meets everyone else’s eyes. Rhysand looks highly amused. Feyre looks disturbed, and Elain looks glum with envy, the love-obsessed bitch. Amren is Amren.

After dinner is over, dishes duty is handed over to Rhysand and Amren goes off to bed complaining about beauty sleep, which leaves Nesta alone with her sisters in the foyer.

She doesn’t quite know how, but she ends up forgetting her promise to Cassian and following the girls out to the front porch for some fresh air instead. The sun has long since set, taking some of the summer heat with it, but the air is still stuffy as the three of them settle down onto hand-painted wooden chairs. Lanterns on the porch are lit up to keep the darkness away, and the lake before them gleams with the reflection of the rising moon.

Feyre is the first to speak, her voice hesitant. “It’s hot out tonight, isn’t it?”

“I’m not doing this,” Elain announces. She stands abruptly from her chair and goes back inside.

Nesta and Feyre stare wide-eyed after the swinging front door, but a minute later Elain returns holding a decanter and three crystal glasses. She sets the glasses down on a side table and starts pouring. “It’s not really Tennessee without a strong whiskey,” she says to no one. “And I’m way too sober right now to handle this vacation.” The third glass gets an extra finger of liquor, and it ends up in Elain’s hand. She passes the other two to Nesta and Feyre before settling back into her seat.

Nesta grimaces at the drink in her hand without even tasting it. She hates most alcohol, but strong alcohol especially. For the sake of her sisters, however, she throws back half the glass without thinking.

Liquid fire scalds her tongue and throat, and she groans aloud. Instant regret.

Elain has no such issues downing her liquor. “Did you know,” she says after swallowing a gulp of whiskey like it’s apple juice, “that our old place is just a mile and a half that way?” She waves with her glass toward the back gardens.

“Is it really that close?” A frown wrinkles Feyre’s brow, like the memory of their old home might taint the perfect life she has now.

“Yes,” Nesta confirms. She doesn’t offer anything else.

Feyre shudders despite the temperature. “I hate even thinking about it. It’s so depressing. Reminds me of Papa.”

Which is also depressing, Nesta thinks to herself.

“It wasn’t depressing for me,” Elain says, chin tilted up in defiance.

That doesn’t surprise Nesta. Even in the depths of their father’s patheticness, he was Elain’s favorite man on earth.

Nesta used to wonder how her papa would have reacted if Elain was the one with crippling endometriosis pain every month instead of her. Would he have ignored her cries like he ignored Nesta’s, or would he have come running to her aid?

It’s not a question that’s worth Nesta’s time and energy, though. Not when the man himself has long been six feet under. Instead she pokes at Elain, “Then why did you hide your background from every guy you met like you were ashamed of it?”

“I was ashamed,” Elain says primly, “but that doesn’t mean I hated all of it. We didn’t all grow up with a ten foot stick up our ass; at least I could appreciate what we had without taking my attitude out on everybody else.”

The whiskey must be working quickly, because Nesta can’t hold back an unseemly snort. “There you go again,” she drawls in a cutting tone, pointing an accusing finger with the hand that holds her glass at Elain. “Dishing out shit when you can’t take it back. At least not without crying.”

Feyre, who was trying to hide her cringe with the rim of her drink, now perks up with eagerness. “She does do that, doesn’t she?” she exclaims. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

Elain’s lips twist into an indignant sneer. “What’s this dynamic now, why’s everyone ganging up on me?”

Nesta mutters, “Because you need to hear it every now and then.” Turning to Feyre, she adds, “God, she can be fucking annoying.”

“Oh, like you’re everyone’s favorite person to be around?” Elain scoffs.

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. That’s called a con artist, Elain. You’re a con artist.”

There’s stunned silence for a tense moment—and it’s broken by full laughter. Elain is chuckling sweetly as she says, “Well, I suppose it’s okay if only you two are the ones who notice it. It can be our little secret.” She presses a finger to her pink lips.

Feyre giggles along at that too, but Nesta remains quiet. Too sober for the current mood, perhaps. “Do you think someone will notice at one point?” she asks Elain. “That the smiles and Southern charm and—the kindness...” She doesn’t know how to feel about that word in relation to Elain. “Do you think someone will notice that that’s not all there is to you?”

Elain’s grinning face freezes quicker than an actress’s. “No one will know,” she answers smoothly, “because I’m not going to be with anyone else for a while.”

At the confused silence filled only by the chirp of cicadas, Elain supplements, “I’m trying out the single life.”

Nesta meets Feyre’s eyes, and it only catalyzes the sound quelling up in her throat. At the same moment, the two sisters burst into cackling laughter. Well, Feyre cackles. Nesta makes a noise that imitates a dying whale.

“I’m serious,” Elain insists, glaring at them. “If Nesta could spend all those years living like a widowed hag, why can’t I? I don’t need men to live.”

Nesta’s laughter sours at the insult, and she turns to Elain with seriousness in her tone. “No one needs anyone else, Elain—but you treat loneliness like a leper from the Middle Ages. Are you even happy for me and Cassian beneath all that jealousy?”

Elain shifts uncomfortably in her chair and mutters, “Of course I’m happy for you two.” And then she adds in a much quieter voice, “Deep, deep down.”

“Is that what was wrong with you on New Year’s?” Feyre asks gently. “You were jealous?”

Nesta raises a brow; she didn’t know this.

“I wasn’t exactly having fun watching you two suck face right after getting dumped by Azriel,” Elain tells Nesta. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. I just…I’m not used to being the lonely one.” She huffs out a sigh and reaches for the decanter again. “If anyone should be in a happy and healthy relationship right now, it should be me.”

Feyre turns to Nesta and whispers too loudly, “You’re right, she is fucking annoying.”

“Don’t get too friendly; so are you.”

Feyre leans away from Nesta in affront. “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You don’t need to do anything for Nesta to think she’s better than us,” Elain chimes in.

The three of them break out into bickering, which soon devolves into hysterical laughter, which then morphs into a comfortable silence—which doesn’t last long until they’re bickering again. They spend the rest of the night going in small circles like that over their whiskey, occasionally taking breaks to talk of more serious things: Elain’s flower shop is finally starting to pick up business, but expenses are still too high. Nesta is worried about Cassian being all alone in Italy by himself, but she’ll never show it to him. Feyre’s work at the children’s art studio is making her seriously consider having kids (“Don’t you dare, you’re way too young,” Nesta threatens).

Each of them reveals that they miss at least one of their shitty parents these days.

Maybe it’s because they’re under the same night sky that they spent their childhoods under, but if Nesta closes her eyes, it’s like she’s seventeen again, letting her sisters stay up and talk her ear off even though it’s a weeknight.

***

The lack of Nesta in Cassian’s bed must stop him from succumbing to deep sleep, because his nap is hazy and doesn’t last more than a half hour. When he blinks awake, the fog of wine from earlier has mostly cleared away and the lamps in his room are lit. Mor sits on the bay window seat and Azriel lounges on a chair nearby, both of them murmuring quietly to each other.

Noticing Cassian’s movement, Az turns away from Mor and drawls, “That was quick.”

Groaning, Cassian rubs at his eyes and sits up straight. His shirt and jeans are flung on the floor, and he can only assume he took them off himself before collapsing into bed.

Holding the thin blanket to his chest, he demands, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, now he has modesty,” Mor grumbles.

Cassian grabs his wrinkled shirt from the floor and shrugs it on before repeating his question. “What are you doing here, and where’s Nesta?”

“Don’t know,” Az shrugs from his chair. “But Mor wanted us to talk alone, so Nesta probably doesn’t need to be here.”

Growing wary, Cassian straightens up against the headboard. “Talk about what?”

Mor’s words take him by surprise. “I wanted to apologize.” She straightens up in her seat and throws a cautious glance at Azriel. “And I wanted Az with me for moral support.”

Az rolls his eyes to himself, likely considering the task beneath him.

“I didn’t take your words that seriously this morning,” Mor goes on, “but I’m taking them seriously now. Someone made me realize that I’ve been blaming your—girlfriend... for our relationship changing when I’m the one who’s been pushing you away the whole time. While you were falling in love, I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t trust you to find love without my input, and I didn’t respect you when you did.” Tears line her dark eyes, taking Cassian aback. “I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “Please don’t hate me.”

A headache takes root in Cassian’s temples, and he has to shut his eyes against the dull thudding. “I could never hate you, Mor,” he says past the lump in his throat. That was never the problem, though her words have eased some of the pent up frustration in his chest.

Cassian lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not just you. It’s every single one of us. We’ve known each other so long, we’re so fucking entangled in each other, that even when I’m living by myself up in my cabin I feel like I can’t get away from it.” He stares out the window like he might find some relief there. “That’s why I’m going overseas. To get some space from all of this.” He waves between the three of them and laughs bitterly. “We created this incestuous little circle and now we don’t know how to care about anyone outside of it.”

He catches Az frowning, fingers toying with one of the bracelets on his wrist that Cassian spied earlier.

Mor sniffs away a lingering tear. “What about Nesta, then? Where does she factor in?”

Cassian’s mouth turns down in a distasteful frown. He still doesn’t like that he has to leave without her, but the fact that he doesn’t like it is only more proof that he needs to do it. “I can’t let Nesta be a part of me,” he answers. “I need to be all of me.”

Only once he learns how to do that can he be the friend and lover that the people in his life deserve.

***

Nesta wakes up the next dawn not on a hard chair, but in a soft bed. The smell of Cassian lingers on the sheets wrapped around her, and she blinks blearily as she tries to remember the events of last night.

Feyre fell asleep first. Elain and Nesta were just going to close their eyes for a moment and take a brief rest as well, but the next thing Nesta knew Cassian was helping her take out her contacts and laying her head against a pillow. Now the sun is dawning and she has a pounding headache. She needs at least another ten hours of sleep before she’ll be fit to face the world again.

She looks around for her phone to check the time and spots it plugged into the charger on the bedside table. Despite feeling like she’s been rammed with the flu, the tiniest smile lifts Nesta’s lips at the thought of Cassian carrying her to bed and making sure to charge her phone.

She finds her lockscreen blown up with notifications, all from her shared groupchat with Gwyn and Emerie.

Clicking into her texts, Nesta scrolls back through the hundreds of messages to see what she missed.

Emerie: i can’t believe nesta isn’t here for this.

Emerie: what the hell is she doing

Gwyn: probably hanging out with her best friends the inner circle

Gwyn: or getting railed

Emerie: >:(

A tired laugh escapes Nesta as she reads the texts, and she’s grateful for the reminder that these are her chosen friends. This is her found family, and she’ll be back with them soon.

Scrolling a little further back, Nesta finds the cause of all the commotion.

Emerie: A RACCOON JUST FELL THROUGH MY CEILING IM GONMA DUE &%!@

Emerie: DIE

Followed by multiple pictures of a scarily large raccoon chewing up Emerie’s bed.

Nesta shudders at the images. Reminding herself to message the girls back as soon as she has her head on straight, she puts away the phone and drags herself out of bed.

Her knees wobble a little as she stands upright and slips her glasses on, but her body keeps moving automatically toward the door. It’s not until she’s halfway downstairs that she realizes she’s looking for Cassian.

In the main hall that cuts through the house, Nesta glances between the back door and the front door. Instinct tugs her toward the front door, and as she passes the living room she spies Elain knocked out on the couch.

One of her legs dangle off the edge of the cushion and she still has her shoes on, like she dragged herself up onto the loveseat in the middle of the night and fell straight asleep.

Cassian brought Nesta up to their room sometime during the night, and Rhysand would have done the same for Feyre, but Elain… Elain has no one to carry her to her room, Nesta realizes.

Hating the unusual feeling of pity that blooms inside of her, Nesta goes over and grabs a throw blanket from nearby. She flings it haphazardly over Elain’s body. There, that should do it.

She might take a few seconds to tuck the blanket in a little better, but then she’s out the front door and jogging down the porch steps. Early morning dew beads the grass, and the sun isn’t high enough in the sky yet for the heat to be unbearable.

Like perfect timing, Cassian’s form appears from the lightly wooded running trail that circles the lake. He has his hair tied up and is wearing nothing but workout shorts, and even from this distance Nesta can see the sweat gleaming off his hardened chest.

She forgets about her headache and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol coating her tongue. Her feet speed up on the grass, and then Cassian takes sight of her too. He grins wide and breaks into a run toward her.

When they’re mere feet away from each other, Nesta is the one to halt first and hold out a hand, blocking Cassian’s incoming bear hug. “Don’t you dare.” She eyes his body with a warning look. Nesta will do a lot of things for her boyfriend, but sticking her face into his sweaty pits is not one of them.

Cassian looks her up and down with scrutiny, trying to decide if going in for the hug anyway is worth it. “Fine,” he gives in. He spins on his heel and walks down to the head of the pier, where a standing shower is set up for washing off after swims in the lake.

Twisting the faucet, Cassian stands under the cold burst of water and gives Nesta a look that says, Happy now?

Nesta cautiously goes over to where Cassian stands, but she gets too close—

In a blink, she’s being tugged under the shower stream, held tight to Cassian’s chest.

“Cassian!” Nesta splutters, trying to pull away. Droplets hit her glasses and blur her vision, and she has to shove the glasses up into her hair so she can properly glare at Cassian’s face.

He only laughs deeply and tugs her closer. “Like you don’t smell either. You’ve been in that dress since yesterday.”

Nesta catches her breath under the pouring water, glancing down at her soaked sundress. Right; she probably needs this more than he does.

The water isn’t freezing like she expected, she realizes as she relaxes in Cassian’s arms. It’s actually the perfect temperature, almost soothing after the initial shock to her senses.

Broad hands stroke long lines across her arms, like Cassian is making sure that she isn’t uncomfortable. The action triggers an old memory inside Nesta—or rather, an old familiar feeling. The feeling of Cassian in Nesta’s early days of knowing him, always pushing her out of her comfort zone but never tossing her in the deep end to drown.

“I handled my sisters and your friends pretty well the other night, don’t you think?” she murmurs into his chest.

Cassian looks down at her with pure reverence in his eyes. “I can’t be surprised. You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave as hell. From the minute you stepped outside of the little circle you’d drawn around your life, you became the bravest person I know.”

“Not true,” Nesta states matter-of-factly. “I can name at least three braver people.”

Cassian pokes her in the ribs, but his smile is good natured. “It’s just an expression, Nes. Take the compliment.”

The shower keeps spraying around them, refracting the sunlight to scatter rainbows across Nesta’s vision. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she tells Cassian earnestly. “I did the bulk of the hard work, but you…you gave me that first push. You taught me I could find safety in others, because you were my first real friend.”

Her words clearly take Cassian by surprise. Maybe it’s because Nesta is so rarely open about her true feelings, so her words have more value when she is. Maybe Cassian just wasn’t expecting to get so much credit, which is why he blinks rapidly now. “And what now?” he tries to tease, emotion tangled in his throat. “You have better friends?”

“Much better,” Nesta plays along, but her gaze carries all her sincerity. She suddenly laughs to herself, remembering: “I was terrible at socializing.”

It’s something she brushes off easily now, but few people will ever know that part of her inability to get close to others stemmed from a debilitating fear of rejection.

“Not to me.” Cassian reaches out to twist the faucet off, leaving the two of them standing soaked in the morning air. “I loved talking to you. I couldn’t stop wanting to talk to you, even if you didn’t feel like talking back.” That was how insistent he’d been on becoming her friend, that he would open up to her even when she was closed off to him.

Nesta watches Cassian tug his hair tie off, a little dazed by how much she feels for him in this moment. She isn’t ready for when he scrubs a hand vigorously through his loose hair, shaking the dripping strands out like a dog.

“Cassian!” Nesta scolds for the second time this morning. She flinches back at the water droplets hitting her eyes, making Cassian laugh when he looks back up at her. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. To make up for the assault, he delicately plucks her glasses off the top of her head and uses the hem of her wet dress to wipe off the lenses as best he can.

He slides the glasses back onto her face and nods, inspecting her. “That’s better.” Then he swoops down to kiss the mole beside her mouth.

Nesta wrinkles her nose in surprise. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a thank you,” he says. “Thank you for your car breaking down in the middle of the woods, and for agreeing to spend the night at my place last September.”

Nesta’s brows raise high in amusement. “Shouldn’t you be thanking Feyre? For calling in that favor with you?”

“One day, I’ll do that too,” he promises.

Nesta bites down on a smile and shakes her head, muttering, “Ridiculous.” Yet she can’t help but wonder: who would she thank?

The universe, probably. Whatever forces made it possible for her to wake up every day in the same bed as Cassian, eating the food he cooks and accepting the unconditional love he offers.

She suddenly shivers under the rising sun, becoming aware of how just uncomfortably her sundress clings to her body. Without Cassian’s words distracting her, everything is damp and cold.

Cassian notices and slips his hand into Nesta’s, already starting to pull her away from the pier and toward the house. “Let’s get you dry,” he says. “I’ll make us pancakes before everyone else wakes up.”

“With chocolate chips?”

“With chocolate chips.”

So hand in hand, the two of them walk back up to Cherrywood House.

***

a/n: IM FREE OF THIS BEAST. that ending was absolutely horrible to write, but i hope it satisfied you anyway. and if didnt, well, that’s what the epilogue is for

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[sarasapen]

Among the Blues and Greens

Another installation of the Little One series.

Summary: Meditation often allowed for Jedi to discover and learn about their thoughts and feelings, aiding them in solving their problems. This meditation session unfortunately reveals more than you’d like.

Or the one in which Obi-Wan’s Padawan realises she loves him.

Warnings: Language, meditation, slow dancing, yearning, revelations, forehead kisses, Past Obitine relationship mentions

Word Count: 3k

Star Wars Masterlist

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 You were a fraud.

 Whenever you felt particularly emotional, you meditated, as any good Jedi was supposed to do. Before daybreak, the gardens at the Sundari Royal Palace were relatively uninhabited, at least by people. You didn’t mind the plants and animals. Their energies were soothing, incorrupt, they just were. That’s how you find yourself there, for the third day in a row, trying desperately to calm the tempest that’s seen fit to take up permanent residence in your mind.

 Why were you a fraud? A fake? A poser?

 Because here you were, years of training under your belt, pretending to meditate. Fraud.

 It was an old ‘trick’ that young Padawans- very young Padawans, you added- resorted to when they were made to meditate. Sitting there with your eyes closed, trying to keep your breathing even. No actual self-exploration or deep diving into your mind, just putting up a facade that any force insensitive being wouldn’t see through.

 Unfortunately for you, Obi-Wan Kenobi was Force sensitive.

 “You’re pretending,” He muses, lowering himself beside you and crossing his legs, assuming the same position you were in. You keep your eyes closed, forcing your breaths to remain even as if he hadn’t even spoken. He sees right through it, amusement weaving into the deep blues that were his signature.

 Oftentimes you wondered what it was like, to be in the middle of all that was him. Observing one’s signature from the outside was very much different than actually experiencing it. Each individual’s signature was different, and his signature was always so wonderful… You wanted to learn more about it, about him. But you knew you wouldn’t ever dare to be brash enough to even brush your signature against his, let alone delve into him fully.

 His signature morphs, from the vibrant, rich hums to a gentle, soothing wave. He’s meditating.

 You scowl.

 He’s barely been sitting down for a minute, and he’s already accomplished what you’ve been trying to do for the past three days.

 “Focus your thoughts on something,” He suggests quietly, sending out a wash of calm over your prickling irritation. He’s guiding you, as he used to do years ago when you were a young and distractible little thing, and you let him.

 You’d let him do anything.

 You’re swept backwards into the deep abyss that’s your mind, and you fall freely, watching Obi-Wan’s signature withdraw slowly from yours. It’s like watching waves upon the shore, gently sweeping backwards and away, taking with it such tiny, essential parts of you while simultaneously shaping you into a thing to behold. It was always, before anything else, soothing.

 He didn’t like studying others’ energies too closely. It was a common trait amongst blue sabers, whilst reading people's energies were crucial for the Jedi, studying them at great lengths could often prove to be uncomfortable. But yours, he had said. He wouldn’t mind spending days traversing the inside of your mind if you’d let him.

 When you were younger, you’d asked him what your signature looked like to him. He said it was a mass of shades of green that were so beautiful he doubted the mere names of the colours or any other descriptive words would be able to do them any justice.

 Beautiful, was the word he’d always use.

 And he was…gentle, and kind, and smart. You exhale slowly, no longer stiff in your posture. He’s always been so patient with you, even with his occasional sarcastic comment. The perfect Jedi.

 Even as a youngling, you’d hear exaggerated stories from Padawans slightly older than you, or, at least, he insisted they were exaggerated. A few years into your training with him, you began to think that maybe the far-fetched stories weren’t so far-fetched after all.

 You’re so lucky, younglings would say shortly after you had become his Padawan. After all, Master Kenobi’s previous Padawan was the Chosen One. You’d have to be something special to attract his attention.

 And you were lucky. But not for the glory and the awe that sparkled in people’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was for his undivided attention on you, his genuine interest in the things you enjoyed, his efforts to shift your training to aid in what you wanted to specialise in, even if it was wildly different from what he was good at.

 Not that there was much he wasn’t good at.

 You loved the way he carried himself, not with arrogance or pride (both of which you thought would have been deserved), but with a humble sort of almost shyness. You loved that he pushed to do better, to be better, not for himself but for you and Anakin. You loved the way he conducted himself with people, even those considered to be the lowest of the lows, he treated them with so much respect and kindness.

 Perhaps it was just that he was a decent human being, but that didn’t mean you loved him any less.

 You loved the way he’d throw in a sharp remark when facing an adversary, or the way he’d stand tall even in the face of-

 Hold on.

 You loved him.

 You loved him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

 “What are you thinking about?” Obi-Wan calls from beside you, his voice no louder than a low murmur, and it still makes you flinch. “You’ve grown tense.”

 Play dumb. You could do that. Just… blurt out something random and leave it at that, and then you can-

 “She seems nice.”

 FUCK. Not that fucking dumb oh stars above you were so fucking screwed-

 “She… The Duchess?”

 “Yeah, your Duchess.” Oh kriffing hells, if you could just. stop. talking.

 “Duchess Satine is not my Duchess,” His force signature dips suddenly, as if he’s reeled everything back into himself. It pulls you along with it, and you can no longer pretend that you’re meditating. Not with the way your Master turns to face you, studying your features with a concerned curiosity. You tense up again, keeping your eyes trained on a lone tree, a distance away. There’s a caterpillar crawling on one of the branches, and you focus on that. You can tell that he can tell. He’s always been so good at reading you.

 “You…” He starts, but stops himself, straightening and regarding you once again.

 “Sometimes I find myself having to meditate more than usual. Even up to a few times a day, if I’m…” Obi-Wan’s gaze flickers down from your eyes for just a split second, a movement so quick he doesn’t even realise he’s done it. “Distracted.”

 There’s a stutter in your signature, one you try to hide by slamming up your walls, but the brush of Obi-Wan’s hand against your arm has you faltering. The waves of him approach slowly once again, waiting patiently beside the storm that’s your signature.

 “What’s gotten you so tense?” He probes gently, the weight of his hand against your shoulder mirroring the gentle reassuring taps of his signature against yours.

 “Do you love her?”

 You know what. There’s a ledge. Right there. You could just jump off. If you were dead you wouldn’t be facing this amount of embarrassment.

 “...I used to,” Obi-Wan reveals, and his admission surprises himself more than it does you. Not that he wasn’t aware of what the extent of feelings for Satine used to be, but admitting it, out loud? It was something he had never done before.

 “Used to?”

 “It was a lifetime ago, when I was still a Padawan.”

 It’s strange. Neither of you want to continue talking, to keep delving into dark and murky uncharted territory, between the blurred depths of what’s allowed and what’s forbidden. It scares you. It scares him too. 

 “So… what? You decided to give her up?”

 He should say something about the way of the Jedi, that attachments were forbidden, and that had anyone else known, they would’ve expected him to leave Satine. If it were anyone else asking him this, he would’ve said it, accompanied by a deserved lecture on subtlety and manners.

 But you’re the exception.

 You’d always be his only exception.

 So, instead, Obi-Wan says, “The Duchess, while a remarkable woman, has a very different outlook on life than I do, even back then.”

 There's a stretch of silence that he feels like he needs to fill. “Besides, it gave me the chance to meet people even more remarkable.”

 “Not many people can compare to the Duchess of Mandalore,” You mutter, closing your eyes to block out the sight of him when he gets to his feet.

 “No,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Although the Duchess couldn’t come close to comparing to you.”

 And with that heart-stopping revelation, he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

 “Focus,” Obi-Wan whispers in your ear, and then he’s gone.

 Now you really couldn’t concentrate.

——

 “Breathe,” Obi-Wan had instructed you, sitting beside your fidgety body with his own long-since perfected form.

 It was the second week into your Padawan training, and it had taken Obi-Wan twenty three minutes to get you to sit still. Not including the sixteen minutes it took to get you past the normally three minute walk from library to your room, or the seven minutes it took for you to pad over to him and sit beside him. Not for your lack of trying, Obi-Wan mused, watching you fidget once again.

 Your eyes fly open at his words.

 “If I stop breathing during meditation will I die?”

 Yeah, okay, that one was on him. It takes a lot of control for Obi-Wan not to choke on his overwhelming surprise at your words.

 “Meditation can only occur when you stop speaking, little one,” He hints, keeping his posture straight. Thirty two minutes now, he’s been sitting in this position, not meditating, but focused on your wild little signature.

 “Oh, yeah,” You concede, shifting again and screwing your eyes shut.

 Master Kenobi, the whisper-shout in his head very nearly startles him, and Obi-Wan can’t keep pretending his focus is impeccable. He turns to regard you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. If I stop breathing during meditation, will I die?

 Again, to your credit, you weren’t exactly… speaking.

 Perhaps that’s why, with a self-indulgent smile, he sends back a quick no.

 Okay, you accept happily, shifting again in your seat. Your early days were so much like Anakin’s. Both of you, filled with a curiosity and outlook on the world that only children could view, and it baffled him to no end that both of you viewed him in exactly the same way.

 You just accepted everything he said without much thought, readily eager to believe that your Master was always right, because what else could he ever be? It was perhaps that specific period of time during both his Padawans’ training that Obi-Wan was the most stressed. The first few years were the years he felt as though he could disappoint you the most, to fail to protect you and teach you and nurture you.

 He didn’t fail. He didn’t even come close. You’d tell him if you could. Anakin would tell him too. But it just wasn’t a conversation Jedis had.

 And…there.

 You’re not meditating. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when he feels you oh so carefully reach out your signature. He follows along at a distance, careful not to alert you, and he watches as your signature gingerly approaches the plant situated outside your apartment door.

 The plant. You were connecting with the plant.

 You’re calm, he realises. Nearly ridiculously so, if he didn’t know any better he’d think your signature was that of a fully trained knight. The spurts and bursts and branches that were usually your energy flutter gently down, acting obedient and serene.

 It’s… for lack of a better word, beautiful.

 So with your thoughts centered around that little plant outside, all Obi-Wan has to do is give you just a little nudge that blocks out all other distractions for you- maybe it’s cheating, but he wants to see what will happen.

 And then you’re meditating.

——

 “It’s the first time I’ve worn a dress!” Swishing the fabrics of the skirt around you, you’re easily entranced by the movement. It’s a pretty dress, courtesy of the Mandalorian court, floaty and airy with barely there off-the shoulder sleeves. It reveals more of you than Jedi robes would ever, but you’re so enraptured with such innocent curiosity that Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to suppress the affectionate smile he gives you.

 “You look lovely,” He responds honestly, pushing himself off the couch and taking slow steps towards you.

 “I feel like a… like a…” You pause, glancing up from your skirts to fix your eyes on him, mind racing.

 “Like a?” Obi-Wan prompts.

 “Like a cloud!” You settle for, twirling around as if to emphasise your floaty feeling.

 “A cloud?” He confirms, voice laced with amusement. He takes your hand, twirling you around once more through your giggles.

 “Yeah.”

 “Well, you’re the prettiest cloud I’ve ever seen,” Folding his hand over your own, he steps into your space mid-twirl, his other hand coming to press flat against your back. He doesn’t know what propelled him to do this, to press you against him and pull you into little steps around the room. The giggles he gets from you are enough to diminish any second thoughts he gets, so he hums softly, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

 Your little impromptu dance session is made to end as quickly as it started, a knock on his door reminding the both of you the reason for such fanciful dressing.

 A dinner.

 It was exciting to you, as most off-world mission events were, so different from the usual routine of your life on Coruscant. Your excitement is blindingly obvious, and yet Obi-Wan, who’s long since tired of having to accept invitations lest the Jedi be perceived as discourteous, Obi-Wan says nothing at all. He gives you a warm smile and gestures for you to move towards the door.

 And oh, what a dinner it was. The food was marvelous, the company a little less so, but the moments you’d glance up at your Master to find him already watching you made up for it. If only he weren’t seated so far away… and so close to the Duchess. You don’t turn your head in their direction again.

 Apparently a royal dinner on Mandalore was not just dinner, so after an hour of sitting at a table several seats away from your Master and surrounded by boring politicians, you’re ushered into a ballroom. Several ask for your hand to dance, but you turn them down with a polite smile and even politer excuse. You want to dance, you do. Just… not with them.

 Then you see her.

 She had changed her dress, and she was gorgeous. Elegant and beautiful and carrying herself with such grace even on the dancefloor, she looked every bit the Duchess she was. You sort of hated her.

 “The prettiest, huh?” You mutter bitterly under your breath, taking a moment to try to calm yourself. You take another breath when you turn to face Obi-Wan, expecting his eyes to be on her. Everyone’s eyes were on her.

 He’s looking at you.

 You immediately curse yourself out for the snide comment, hating that you’ve revealed yourself, your insecurities, that he’s going to admonish you for a silly little comment that just slipped out.

 Instead, he holds his hand out towards you, and bends down a little in a bow.

 “If I may have this dance, my dear?” The words come out as a low murmur, and even with the loud applause of everyone around you signalling the end of the Duchess’ dance, you hear him perfectly. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re trying impossibly hard to keep your breathing even as you slide your hand into his, letting him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

 It’s strange, you think.

 The two of you have been in arguably far closer quarters than you were in now, with a decent amount of space between your bodies, joined only by your hand in his and his other hand on your waist. You’ve trained together, sparred together, been forced into close confines in the middle of missions and on occasion even slept in the same bed together.

 Obi-Wan’s grip on your hand tightens, the tips of his fingers skimming up your back and brushing tantalisingly against the skin that’s uncovered by the dress.

 No, this… this, in front of a whole room of people from all over the galaxy, this was far more intimate than anything ever before. It’s almost as if you’ve been transported back in time just a couple of hours ago, when it was just him and you in the privacy of your quarters.

 “The prettiest,” he confirms, voice low in your ear. Your breath hitches at his statement and all its implications. “It’s not even a competition.”

 Good things, as all things do, must eventually come to an end. Obi-Wan guides a slightly tipsy and very giggly you back towards your room, laughing despite himself when you trip over your own two feet. The last thing he wants after a successful mission is for you to get concussed by falling.

 He bends and effortlessly sweeps you into your arms, letting you swing your legs in the air. It’s not the first time he’s been in this position with you. Perhaps he’s carried you like this a little too often. His thoughts don’t linger on that topic for long.

 You change out of your dress and sit cross-legged in front of him, letting him brush out your hair and pull it back into a braid for you to sleep in, actions so practised that they’re not even spoken about.

 And on the floor of your room, discarded almost carelessly at the end of the bed, lay two weapons beside each other, one green, and one blue.

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The next one will be Obi-Wan’s revelation ;)

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