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lightlycareless · 1 year

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First, it hurts— Chapter XXIX

Naoya Zen’in x Fem!Reader

While arranged marriages are not uncommon in the jujutsu community, it was strange to receive a proposal from none other than the Zen’in’s, nonetheless your clan accepted and before you knew it, you were married off to Naoya.

Your new purpose was clear: to serve and submit, to be seen and not heard. To forget any sense of individuality in favor of obeying your husband.

Will this marriage ever flourish into something else? Will it change…for better or for worse?

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of physical abuse. mentions of menstruation, fertility, nausea, misogyny, mentions of adultery, I guess adultery in itself, and that seems to be about it.

A/N: GUESS WHO IS BACK AGAIN!! Yes, it's me 🥺❤️ I'm finally back from my cruise, and other shenanigans that I had to deal before I went back to writing. Got to put everything in place, you know?

I got to experience something completely different, like being on a boat... and getting sick, and going to the other side of the country haha, but I liked it! However, what I liked most was getting back to my home with my cat, and you guys :> ❤️

Well, I don't have much to say after this, except.... thank you for your patience ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Without any further ado, happy reading! 🥰

Masterlist ➸ Chapter 30

Ao3 link.

If you were forced to name one positive thing that came from the elders' unrequited involvement in your situation, is that their imposed distance (as well as obnoxious arrogance) was so abnormally high, that it permitted you to do the few tasks you were assigned to as the Lady of the House without much interference. They were seemingly so above your level, they barely even gave you any mind —outside of nasty comments here and there— when indulging in the few things that maintained your sanity, at least until the day you were rescued came.

It felt… reductive to even put the words positive and elder’s in the same sentence, considering that no less than just a few days ago you were nothing but a frightened mess, locked away in your room as you continuously tortured your mind with the when and how’s of their retribution.

Yet, it is said that time heals all wounds, and after tiring all of your energy ruminating in nothing more than your sorrow and your regrets, your body eventually scarred those painful memories, growing some kind of resistance (or perhaps ignorance, because it will always hurt), and arriving to the conclusion that you at least owed it to those who remained by your side in these difficult moments to hold your head up high and continue to fight.

After all, Mariya, Haruko, Hitomi, and Naoaki were all affected by what transpired to some degree, and they still persevered. So why couldn’t you do the same? Or at least… try?

And now that you began to slowly compose yourself, to the point where you actually had energy to get up and out of bed every morning… shame for the past emotional outbursts you’d unwittingly placed on them began to take hold of your conscience—Looking at the bigger picture, it feels like that's all you've ever done since you arrived here, placing them in danger, while in turn, they constantly reassured you that you were not as cruel, or weak as your inner sabotaging self believed.

Truly, if it weren't for them, you don't know where you'd be. And not giving the Zen'in any more power than what they already had over you was the least you could do to honor their efforts…

…

But as expected, things were always easier said than done.

It certainly wasn't… effortless to move on, not when you still had the presence of your stranded husband lingering in the corner of your eye, and the death sentence of your father-in-law haunting you like a yokai through every step you took, but you still tried your best, the best you could anyways.

Nonetheless… if it’s worth mentioning, there was a sudden change in your surroundings that altered your perception of them for a moment, at least until you figure out if for the best or for the worst, when noticing Naoya's behavior from one day forward.

You don’t know why, and you don’t usually bother to care when it comes to him, but it happened. And quite strangely too, so… abruptly , especially when all that you remember of him for the last days were his attempts to contact you, or that's what you presumed to be —judging by his looming presence in every room you were in—since you never allowed conversation to start between the two.

Taking this into consideration, it was only natural that you’d inquire with your ladies, if they knew, within their limited reach, about anything new happening to him, just in case you needed to anticipate his reaction and act accordingly.

They looked at one another, as if searching for the answer in their eyes, before looking back at you and shaking their heads.

“No, but now that you mention it, I noticed he seemed to be rather… focused, different from the blank stare he carried everywhere he went to" Mariya noted.

“What do you think of it?” Hitomi asks “Do you think he’s up to something?”

“Oh, I hope not!” Haruko frets, face pale as she shivers “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle anything more! But… What do you think, Y/N-chan? Do you think he’s planning something?”

Undeniably so, but that is not something that you were to find out any moment soon, or through them for that matter… less when there were endless topics to choose from.

The thing enacting his change could be his career, his title, the elders, perhaps even some paramour he’d fallen out with due to his "temporary" stay at the estate, or worse… you .

You swallow.

For the sake of your mental health, you really, really hoped that wasn't the case.

Your search for answers eventually leads you to Naoaki, whom you silently counted on to give you the closure you desperately needed, after all, he was still in somewhat of a good standing with the rest of the clan and if there was someone that would know of any new changes before the staff, it would be him.

It still surprises you that he hasn't heard of your scheduled death, planned by none other than his own father, or maybe he already knows, but always the considerate one, he decided to not bring it up to avoid hurting you, waiting for you to disclose it in your own terms, in your own time.

If that were the case, you didn’t think it was possible to admire him any more… but that will be something to focus on another time.

“I have no idea what he’s up to” Naoaki exhales, crossing his arms and looking back to you “But whatever it is, it’s never good”

You hum, agreeing with his words. Yet, there was a bit of an unsettling sentiment coming from them, undoubtedly, because they were not the ones you expected to hear from him.

“But don’t let that worry you, Y/N” he continues, as if sensing the mental gymnastics occurring inside your thoughts —or more like seeing them, since the tightness of your lips and the furrow of your brows were all too evident to him— reassuring you with a smile before taking a step closer to you, lifting his hand to tilt your head to his direction and place a soft kiss on your forehead. “It’s a beautiful day today to be focused on that, why don’t you accompany me to the training grounds? Or whatever you want, really, today is my day off”

“Oh” you murmur, a faint streak of pink painting your cheeks, a reaction coming from your still-inconclusive opinion of your relationship with him, and the giant leap forward it took a few nights ago.

Ever since that occasion, the one where you latched onto him in a desperate search of comfort, allowing him to stay in your chambers… something changed between the two.

It’s not anything that you haven’t thought of before, nothing that hasn’t been in the development after you wondered how different your life would’ve been had he been the one to marry you, and not his dreadful brother.

And as much as it's something you enjoy, (mostly) never rejecting him when he wants to dote on you… you have to be very careful with how you proceed.

After all, even if the winds of uncertainty seemed to have calmed down a bit, you were still in hot water, and Naoya's shift in behavior was a reminder of that: any misstep could lead to his detriment—and that is something that you do not wish for him.

Well, it seems you were the only one thinking that, for Naoaki didn’t seem to show any concern, after all, you’ve noticed how… confident he’s become when it comes to approaching you; you’d always been uneasy about it from the very beginning, now matter how many times he tried to tell you it was ok, but now that it’s become more apparent… you couldn't help but worry.

And how could you not? You already had Naoya confronting you about it in the days before everything went to hell. If he hasn't been distracted by his exam…

The thought is enough to send shivers through your spine, and just how it crossed your mind, you discarded it.

Just like Naoaki said, It was difficult … and even then, that word would be an understatement.

Oh, if you’d only met under different circumstances…

“I would like to but… Junko-san already she’d need me for the whole day” you eventually admit, and Naoaki's face paints the expression he always uses when he wants you to “not worry about it”

But you know him all too well to this point to understand that deep inside, he’s a bit hurt.

“I see” Naoaki answers, retracting his hand to his side and smiling “Maybe tomorrow I’ll have better luck?”

But what a terrific job he does to act as if he weren’t feeling that way.

“I’ll see what my schedule is” you chuckle, playing along. “I’ll try to see you whenever possible today, maybe we can eat something together”

“I would love that” he agrees “See you around, then?”

“See you around” you repeat, a smile on your face.

You then proceed to take a quick glance at your surroundings, just to check that the two had remained in the solitude you'd intended, before taking a step closer to him, placing your hands over his chest, carefully grasping the collar of his shirt, and pulling him down to land a place on his cheek.

To say that you’ve been wanting to do this for a while would still fall short to your emotions, however, you were not disappointed by the time it took you to finally achieve it—and judging by Naoaki's perplexed, but pleased reaction, it seems he thought the same.

At a closer approach, you could also smell his cologne, the same one he always used, regardless of the occasion. You always liked men's fragrances, but his… it felt rather soothing, basking you in an embrace which you did not want to let go…

From there, you noticed how soft his cheek was, and how it was leaning onto the warmer side, even with the cold weather, which made you assume he was flustered.

Even if it was for another reason, you still found it yourself to think of it as cute .

…

Would it be weird if you also admitted that his skin felt just right… underneath your lips?

You don’t let these thoughts distract you much from your upcoming tasks as you send him off with a quick wave, a coy smile on your lips as the faintest of redness painted your cheeks, before doing a sharp turn on your axis and heading towards the place the mother of the twins arranged to see you.

The memory of their mother is enough to pull you back to reality, tossing aside the tranquility Naoaki provided you and replacing it with chagrin.

Ever since hell broke loose, Junko has been… Well, you’d like to say that she's changed, but most likely than not, she returned to who she genuinely is, to who she was always supposed to be with you.

Where she once showed an ounce of trust and respect towards your persona, to the point where she even allowed you to carry on with your tasks without her supervision, going as far as permitting you to conduct meetings with contractors, taking decisions on behalf of the Zen’in estate without her approval… Now she only seems to scrutinize you, meticulously tear your discernment apart without giving you time to justify yourself—and way harsher than she has ever done before.

The reason for her behavior was no mystery: she was less than impressed by your antics. But even when she didn’t actively reprimand you, she was the kind of person to carry a semblance that lets you know there was something wrong, and that it was on you to figure it out.

A passive aggressive air that while it went undetected at first, for you were too focused on your own survival, wouldn’t take long before it became apparent by her own merits.

"Is this how you're going to act from now on?" The mother of two scowls as soon as you step into the gathering point—the kitchen.

"...what do you mean, Junko-san?" You cautiously inquired. It was only the first hour of the day, you haven’t done anything outside getting ready for the day, briefly conversing with Naoaki, and making your way here.

Unless… she’d seen you with Naoaki just moments before, and now, has decided to participate in the name-calling movement the rest of her relatives were partaking in?

“I asked you to be here at 7 o’ clock in the morning. And you’re 1 minute late” Junko says, and while her path had been completely different from what you expected, alleviating you in some way for this would be the one topic she has left out of her attention —you noticed early on that she doesn't talk about Naoaki, at least directly, contrary to those who are more than willing to call you nasty names due to the nature your relationship with him. Naoya…— you knew it wouldn't be beneficial in the long run.

This was just to be the tip of the iceberg regarding the behavior Junko decided to adopt when referring to you since that day.

Even the littlest of things, whether a simple accident or not, were accentuated before her observant dark eyes and brought to your attention in the most crudest of ways.

“It’s not enough that you disrespect your father-in-law, the head of the clan , and your husband” Junko continued on “But also the time of others?”

“I’m sorry, I thought I was still in time—”

“Don’t apologize” She says, sharply cutting through your fretting attempt at an explanation without hesitation. A reaction that has you immediately quieting up and intently observing her. “Do better ”

You don’t say nor do much after this interaction besides following her lead into what is the customary first task of the day, having long understood that no matter what you did, no matter how you tried to justify your actions, you had become virtually irremediable before her judgment.

But even when you were stung by her indifference… you guess you should still hold some kind of gratitude towards her.

After your small quarrel with Naobito and your continued attempts to avoid Naoya erupted, Junko had made it her utmost priority to ban you from any task that involved them.

Ever the one to please the masters in attempts of redeeming herself for committing “failures” of her own, Junko knew that an environment involving the problematic couple of the moment would do no good to anyone around, thus, did everything she could to avoid a repeat of that unfortunate scene.

You assumed this to be a necessary action due to her responsibility towards you, but one quick glance at the fresh wounds scattered on her arms and neck, which she often attempted to hide with her sleeves or collar of her kimono , would perhaps not tell you otherwise, but rather, give you another motivation behind her behavior.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen something like this, Ogi’s unnecessary involvement and following spite towards his wife, that is, whenever you seemingly committed something “unruly for the Lady of the House”

However, perhaps because of the status that you held and the animosity you imagined Naoya had towards him whenever he spoke about his uncle , you never faced the same repercussions as she did.

Sure, you had your own demons to fight, but they were never as… gruesome, or constant, as the one’s the mother of the twin’s carried—and all because at the end of the day, since Junko was in charge of overseeing your behavior, any negative repercussion from your actions naturally reflected on her , and subsequently, her husband.

Mai and Maki had never voiced you their opinion of this situation, or if they were even aware of it. But if you were to take into consideration the way they were able to immediately identify your silent sorrow with just taking a look at you, you could only guess they were all but unaware of what transpired between their parents.

Ogi, just like Junko, was the type of person that made no attempts to hide their discontent with you, however, because of previously stated reasons, he was far less detached from you and solely limited himself to shoot you nasty glances, scoffs, and evading you as if you were the plague itself —the biggest of his transgressions would be perhaps when he dared attack you with objectifying and degrading comments regarding your persona and family, sometimes redirecting them towards Naoya’s poor discernment— whenever you have the misfortune of crossing paths with him.

That didn’t mean he didn’t intend to do more, of course, and after noticing how sternly Junko started to treat you, you were more than convinced with the theory her husband often dumped her with things that would relieve his stress (or that he saw far beneath him, undeserving of his attention) such as taking absolute accountability for the twins, or reprimanding you—it makes you wonder how many of the nasty comments Junko has said to you are actually from her, and which ones are from her husband.

Or in the worst, but not impossible of cases… from Naobito himself.

Your father-in-law has kept quiet, distant, much to your surprise, and not in a sense that you find comforting. As you’ve thought so before, the higher up’s silence is often considered sinister for it provides the implication of something brewing up behind the scenes.

And as the days went by, and you have yet to hear anything from their side… your mind was forced to seek and answer, concluding that his calmness must’ve been from the fact that you already had the worst punishment that you could think of, your death , on its way. What was worse than dying at this point?

…

Making you suffer for it, of course, if they feel rather sadistic when it happens.

It was nothing more than rumors and assumptions that were inundating your mind at this point, all stemming from the fact that Naobito hadn’t forgotten your transgression and was simply waiting for things to act out on their own.

But maybe… if only maybe, had you been a bit more attentive to the whispers circulating the halls, you would’ve realized that Naobito had already moved on from the incident, and not because he was as cold and calculating as you portrayed him (he still is) but rather because he… genuinely already forgot about it.

Naobito was a man that harbored an uncontrolled alcoholic addiction —a s enior alcoholic, must one add— who’d gotten to the point in his life where he just stopped caring about topic outside his immediate reach, and considering that he grew up in a household of conflicting relatives and far more impactful situations, he took your behavior as nothing more than a “femal’s hormonal outburst”, an interesting one at that, considering the reputation that followed your marriage to Naoya, and moved on with his life.

After all, he did have bigger fish to fry with a certain… Gojo heir. And your punishment was already set, so why the hell would he bother wasting his time in doing more, like the elders were instigating him to, when it was only a matter of time before you either forced yourself to accept their lifestyle, or perish? He was the clan leader, for god’s sake! He could do whatever he wanted!

From there, the only person from the “elite” circle that has kept a close eye on you, was Jinichi.

But different from his crude relatives, he would approach you with the intention of checking in on you, see how you were faring, and perhaps… get a profile of your inner workings and deduce what made you act the way you did.

Your perception of him was still… confusing, baffling so to speak, even after you were slowly starting to get to know him a bit better, as well as losing that intimidating sensation he always unknowingly brought forth towards you.

The memory of the night you rejected Naoya for the nth time, running away from him before stumbling into Jinichi, vividly remained in your mind.

His words, his recounts, his version of the story —a new, unexplored side of the troubled existence of the Zen’in clan— and the alleged suffering of his brother was the only reason you hadn’t acted so dismissively towards him when he came to commend you for your bravery, as well as advise you to to not try anything of the liking again.

Although well intended, you don’t have to go beyond the conversation you had with him that fated night, as well as the whispers of his relatives, to understand that his warning, far from being intended as a caution for your well being, had been more of a remembrance of something that occurred with his estranged brother.

The mystery that surrounded Toji’s persona, exile, and the terror he imparted onto the jujutsu community after he left the clan, was one that you’d wish to unveil, but your need for survival outweighs far more than your curiosity at this particular moment...

Besides, his bare thought seems to be a painful yet shameful one for the Zen’in, so even if you wanted to pursue this subject, you doubt you’ll get any answers from it—leading you to quickly drop the topic.

Circling back to Jinichi, even if you have yet to determine your impression of him, you still thank him for his concern. Especially when he could’ve easily adopted Ogi’s stance and treated you the same way…

In fact, there was still hesitance in your heart when you thanked him for his kind words, because all that you knew of his opinion regarding you was that you reminded him of his brother and the regret he held for not being able to have one last conversation with him before he left…

Let’s go through that again: you reminded him of a man that most, if not all, members of the Zen’in clan thought of negatively , if not horrifyingly…

Well, there’s no use in over thinking what’s already set, after all, if there was no real damage (that you can perceive anyways) being done to you via his actions and words, you’re not going to denounce him—alliances are hard to come by in the wretched household of the Zen’in, and if you could at least preserve somewhat of a good relationship with one of the men that had more than enough power to make your life difficult, then you would accept it. For the sake of your survival and rescue.

And that’s what you did, and will continue to do as you go on with your tasks: remain amicable, and distant if necessary, to those around you, keep in your lane as you await for the next day, and the next one, and the day after that one, and so on and so forth, to arrive.

Once your early morning tasks were done and you had prepared the food of the masters as well as your own, Junko announced your second task for the day, one that you often assumed to be the most tedious and time consuming of them all, the reason why she booked you for the whole day: fixing the clothes of the sorcerers.

It had been a while since you laid hands on a needle, less focus on it for hours , since most of your responsibilities pertained to the maintenance and administration of the house, but when a slight organizational shift occurred in the missions of a particular heir , you were pulled back to the mundane, bottom of the barrel, activities of the everyday wife.

Now that you put it that way, this felt like some kind of a not-so-indirect punishment from Junko —from dealing with important, highly influential matters that solely pertain to the Lady of the House, you were now relegated to nothing more than domestic chores. Her words, not yours.

But as you stated before, you were nothing but glad that you were being kept away from anything that could possibly involve your tormentors—if anything, this new assignment couldn’t have been any better, for you were to be accompanied by none other than the most talented seamstress you’ve ever met in your life, the same one you had the fortune of calling your friend: Hitomi.

Having disclosed to Mariya how regretful you felt for unwittingly showing preference to her over Hitomi, and her sister Haruko, you’ve attempted to make it up to them in however way you could, and what better way than spending time with her, engaging in an activity she’s not only proficient in, but also, fond of?

Even if you still didn’t feel confident enough to share your intimate thoughts with her, you still wanted her to know how important she is to you—thank her for all the support she’s given you.

And not only would this task help strengthen your relationship with her, show your interest in wanting to learn something new from her (even if it was quite tedious and terrifying from her side, you’ve long learned that Hitomi was… quite the teacher) but also, brush up the sewing skills you’ve unintentionally placed on the back burner for external issues, since from one day forward, you’ve been wanting to do something nice for the twins, who recently began to complain about the cold weather, as well as something for Naoaki, who never fails to comment on how cold your hands are as soon as he holds them—so why not make their life easier?

Soon after you’re done eating breakfast and cleaning up after those you indirectly served, you’re picked up by Hitomi and taken to your favorite spot at one of the many gardens inside (your permitted section) of the Zen’in estate, somewhere in the south wing, where the flowers are slowly withering due to the changing weather, but still enjoy thanks to the beautiful koi pond in it, before getting to work.

“Are you ready, Y/N-san?” Hitomi says with a smile as she lays down a small metal box filled with needles and threads besides the mountain of clothes —the ones you assumed to be the victims, excuse me, canvases , for the occasion— she’d had one of the servants place in advance before taking a seat. “Judging by the amount of work we have, it seems like Junko-san was intentionally keeping these hidden for a while now. I heard she even went as far as taking the work from the other seamstress to put it here. If I knew any better, I think she’s intending on overworking you”

“As ready as I’ll ever be” you admit, sitting beside her and reaching over for the metallic box. Already familiar with the tools inside, you go ahead and take out the ones you deemed necessary for the taskblack thread, thread snips, and a needle. “And… you might be right. Junko-san isn’t very happy with me, I don’t think anyone is really. But… whatever— What surprises me the most is that you aren’t the only seamstress here, and I don’t know why I had the idea that, considering the size of the estate…”

Hitomi doesn’t proceed to take the box from you once you’ve set it back down to the engawa and on her side, but rather, she focuses on taking a quick glance at you, observing your unaware profile for a few seconds, before smiling.

She can’t recall the last time you were this talkative to her, or anyone for that matter, since that happened.

And while it might not be to the same extent as it was before, when things were infinitely better, Hitomi was still glad that you were slowly beginning to emotionally improve, giving the impression that you were growing more comfortable with her, enough to step a way, if only from a moment, from the confines of your mind and grant her what seems to be the beginning of a conversation—different from the unwittingly detached approach you’d given her days prior.

Your closeness to Mariya was never of her discomfort, neither for your sister. She was more worried about your reclusiveness and the fact that she couldn’t do anything to help you than those petty matters.

But now… it was different. There was an advancement, and there was nothing that made her happier than that.

“By the amount of work I sometimes had, that’s what you’d think” she moved on, sighing as she mirrored your actions by taking out her own tools “I sometimes wish that the kukuru would be a bit more cautious with their clothes, it seems like they intentionally put their clothes in harm’s way just because they can”

“Well, not to defend them… but going out on missions as frequently as they do, or just by rigorously training, you’re bound to get a scratch or two” you say, beginning to place the thread into the needle, and once that was set, awaiting Hitomi’s following indications. “My brother and sister would always take their own sewing kit just because of that”

“That’s different— they’re being conscious about it. Not like the ones here that just assume someone will always do their work, and thus, act irresponsible with their things! Just because they’re magically mended after throwing them into the dirty laundry bin doesn’t mean they can’t be careful” Hitomi groans, she could literally envision them taunting her when they place their clothes at the laundry room «Who cares! Hitomi is going to fix it anyways!» They’d say. “But whatever, we’re not here to complain about them, because if we are, I think we’re going to need more than a day for that”

You chuckle, agreeing with her. And your gesture makes Hitomi join with a chuckle of her own.

“I want you to first practice on your stitches before moving onto something a bit more difficult, like hems” Hitomi instructs as she reaches over to the pile of clothes and takes out a random pair of black pants “This one has a small rupture” she points at it and you hum “so a basic stitch will be more than enough to fix it. But I’m always here for guidance if you need some”

“I remember doing some, back in the day” you reflect, taking the garment away from Hitomi’s hands and laying it on your lap “Or attempting to do them… back when I was at school, I obviously never mastered them, but I’d rather have a badly fixed skirt than the long one I got as a uniform”

“I always liked long skirts” Hitomi adds “It makes you look regal, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I guess so, but it all depends on the context. I don’t mind long skirts if it’s for anything else but for physical activity—I don’t know how my sister does it… But that wasn’t the issue! The problem here was that it was completely different from what I requested. Picture this, I asked for my skirt to be just above the knee, but instead, I got one that ended 5 fingers below it!”

Hitomi scoffs “That’s a mistake not even I can figure where it came from; I’d like to say it was the usual extra piece they add to unite fabrics and make the hems, but we’re talking about almost 6 inches of a mistake! Whoever made your uniform must’ve been a beginner”

“I guess so” the two laugh, before you stab the needle into the black garment and begin to work. Hitomi doing the same with another piece of clothing. “That skirt would only hinder my work if I left it like that… and would’ve continued to do so, if I was still a sorcerer”

Upon noticing the subtle shift in your tone at the remembrance of something that is no longer meant to be, Hitomi decides to act quickly and push through the subject in hopes of preventing sadness from laying its roots in your heart.

“I can imagine. Kind of. I’ve only seen the sorcerers here and most of them wear pants, although we should consider most of them to be men, so…”

“The uniform at school is way different than what’s used here. The sorcerers here use far more traditional garments than the rest do, and the school offers a much more modern “default” alternative—However, students are permitted to file in a request for a customization” you explain, and Hitomi, whom was elated to see that you’d naturally carried on with the conversation, was also now… briefly interested to know more about your life as a sorcerer.

You don’t talk much about it, or more likely than not, you had a rather extensive background that the short conversations you’d had with her up to this point hadn’t been enough to uncover them all! Which only makes it more exciting.

Thus, prompted by her curiosity, she continues:

“If you don’t mind me asking, how was your uniform?”

“Oh, well” you blink, and something likened to excitement fills your chest.

Remembering this part of your life and education was always exciting for you because it was the beginning of something long-awaited! Even if it was all in the past…

Well, some were right in saying that recounting memories was the same as reliving them, and wouldn’t it be nice to share those nice sentiments with a friend? Undoubtedly.

So, you oblige.

“Since I wanted to do something different from my siblings and friends, cooler in a way, and that it somehow matched with my technique, I decided to take inspiration from one of the series I was—”

“Ah, there you are!” An exasperated voice booms through the stillness of the air as it breaks your sentence midway. The rudeness of the noise forced the women to perplexedly look at each other, wondering if this had been nothing more than a fabrication of their imagination—the assumption quickly debunked by the sound of rushed footsteps that followed soon after, which made their heads swirl into its general direction, intending to identify who had been the one that called them so abruptly, if they were even the person of interest. “I was looking everywhere for you!” the voice called yet again, and when the caller stepped into their sight, you were the first to react.

“Nao…hiko?” You whispered. To say that you were somewhat startled by his appearance would be an understatement, however, your companion did not seem to share that same sentiment, evident by the not so subtle groan that escaped her lips, followed by a quick eye roll.

The culprit behind the shout had been none other than Naoaki’s brother, the second oldest, and the one that wasn’t known for being particularly tactful with others, although that description fit another member of the Zen’in siblings…

As he continues to walk over to your direction, you glance over at Hitomi, giving her another look that asks her “What is going on?” hoping that perhaps she knew of some arrangement Junko had set forth without informing you first hand—although the garment in his hands already offered some hints.

But before either are even able to externalize their concerns, he interrupts once more.

“I’m talking to you , seamstress” Naohiko’s words were… condescending , to say the least.

Would you say unexpected? No, considering how he treats you, or his siblings whenever around, always carrying this aura as if everything were beneath him…

However, what you allow towards your persona is contrastingly different from what you permitted onto others, and with such thought is why you decide to put him in his place.

“She has a name, you know” you frown “ Hitomi ”

“Yeah, Hitomi, right. Whatever" Naohiko groans as he shrugs, not even bothering to glance at your direction as he responds, solely looking at her “Heard you were fixing clothes again, so, I want you to fix mine”

“I’m busy." Hitomi says, reacting with the same indifference he’s throwing at the two by keeping her eyes on the garments before her, and coincidentally, you. “You can ask the other seamstress to help you”

“Ugh, you think I would be here if I liked her job? Or if she knew how to do it?” He whines, shaking the garment before her to grab her attention and demonstrate his urgency. “You’re the only one that knows how to fix my clothes just how I like it, so yeah, I want you to do it”

Hitama inhales, exhales, turns lifts her gaze to his and declares:

“Not with that tone I’m not”

And then, everything goes silent.

You were already uneasy when Naohiko decided to approach the two out of the nowhere, and in the same manner that he’s always used to refer others, but to hear Hitomi actually retaliate was just something that you—well, you didn’t know how to take outside of getting in each other’s nerves.

Hitomi was the no-nonsense kind of person in the group, reserved and cool tempered; the voice of reason between her and her sister…

But Naohiko? Oh, he was as hot-headed as they come. Rude, not easy to get along with, can’t get a joke even if his life depended on it… and adding Hitomi’s reaction… It was only a matter of time before either one of them jumped the other.

You know it won’t be Hitomi, so all that remains is to anticipate Naohiko to be the one to take the first step.

Thus, you begin to slowly preparing yourself to stand up for her by setting your items on the side, slowly inching closer to her as you discreetly push yourself up from the wooden floor, completely expecting him to lose he’s cool and screech and demand that she do what he orders , and how dare she question his authority…

But what transpired after was something that you’d never think in a million years would happen, and such was the shock for the following events, that you were unable to do anything else but fall back into your seat and speechlessly watch everything unfold.

“Can you fix my pants, please ?” he murmurs, head to the side as his eyes are fixated everywhere but on the woman he’s requesting the service, as if he was embarrassed to show his desperation for such necessity, or perhaps… something more?

“My pleasure” Hitomi says, accepting her new assignment by grabbing the garments from his hand and placing them alongside the rest.

She then picks up from where she left off with her previous engagement, grabbing the needle and starting to thread in the fabric… or that's what she intended to do before noticing Naohiko's looming presence just over her shoulder, as if he were trying to make sure she was indeed planning on doing what he requested, instead of retreating back to whatever place he was before.

Never one to enjoy having an audience while working, at least not one that she hadn't approved of, Hitomi is prompted to place her tools back on her lap as she sighs, before turning around to face him once more.

“I’ll let you know when they’re done, Naohiko-sama , you don’t need to stand there" « like an idiot » she wished to add, but she knows she’s threading dangerously close.

“...Uh, yeah, sure” he says with a frown, clenching his hand before turning around and leaving their presence. He didn’t even bother to acknowledge you on his way in, or out, which was surprising since whenever you were present it always seemed he had something to say to you—but this change didn’t matter to you, not when you had a far more shocking interaction to analyze.

“What was that?” you ask once Naohiko is out of sight and earshot.

“What?” she asks and you huff, because there’s no way she doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

“I mean—he's always so… unruly, I was worried that he was going to snap at you!" you continue on "but… he didn't. And it looked like you weren't even worried about it either! Is there something going on between the two that I don't know of?”

“What?! No!” she twisted her face out of disgust, shaking her head as if you'd just told her the most gruesome, impossible scenario of them all “He’s nothing more than a pushover, someone had to tell him how to ask for things eventually! I don’t care if he’s one of the masters, he’s not going to treat me that way”

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” you egg on, a smile on your face as you inch closer to her, elbowing her arm ever so slightly. "Cause I think I saw something in his face when he asked you nicely to fix his pants"

"Y/N-san… I swear, you're just like my sister…" Hitomi frowns, and at the implication, you gasp.

"Ah, so there is something!" You conclude and she just scoffs.

“No! Of course not! But… Well, I guess if I had to put it into words, he's the only one I tolerate of the masters because he's the only one who appreciates my work, instead of treating it like it was my duty” Hitomi eventually relents “Even if it is my job, who doesn't like to be recognized? And by one of the masters of the— what's with that face? " She asks when she finally notices the grin, which only grew bigger and bigger as she went on, in your mischievous face.

"Oh, nothing" you shrug, turning around to the pending work on your lap "Just thinking, that's all"

"Don't get the wrong idea, Y/N-san" she says as she mirrors you, picking up her thread to continue working "I'm just recognizing his appreciation for my work. But I don’t want to talk about that anymore, why don’t you tell me about your uniform?"

While Hitomi was more than comfortable in admitting that there really was nothing between the two outside of a professional relationship, she's not going to say that she doesn't enjoy how he always seeks her simply because, in his own words "there's no one else that can do what you do"

That's… certainly one way to get to the heart of a professional.

But if there's something that she likes the most above all, it’s being able to work without interruptions.

Unfortunately, that's something that’s not bound to happen that day.

“Hitomi!” Another voice calls, less intruding than Naohiko’s, softer even, but and with a sense of urgency that makes both women look into its direction: one out of curiosity, and the other with impatience “Hitomi! Where are you?!”

“Oh, Jesus, what is it now?!” Hitomi breathes exasperatedly as the notion of another person coming to bother her simply because she’s back in the game takes hold of her mind. Yes, she said she likes being appreciated, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys being dumped with all of their work—Junko was already doing that, what else do they want from her?

Too angered by being interrupted, she doesn't hold her tongue when voicing her frustration “Can’t you see I’m trying to work her—oh, Haruko! ”

At the recognizable figure of her sister turning just around the corner, Hitomi is quick to calm down her animosity and transform it into interest before ending in concern when her eyes capture the redness of her cheeks and the out-of-place strands of hair sticking to her her face: symbols that she had been doing nothing but running towards their direction for the past few minutes, as well as remembering the crucial tone of her voice in which she was calling to her just a few seconds ago.

Everything had been somewhat calm since the day began, and neither Junko, Mariya, her , or even you had been informed of anything important happening… So, what made her like that?

“I came rushing here as soon as possible!” Haruko piped as soon as she catches up to you, breathing heavily as she crouches forward to rest her hands on her knees in hopes to rest for a moment and regain her breath.

“Why are you in a rush, Haruko?” you ask as you discard all of your items to the side, pushing yourself up from the floor and going to her side “Sit down, you need to rest”

But instead of accepting your offer, she gently rejects you, shaking her head as she lifts her glance to you, before shifting to her sister, and darting back to you.

It’s almost as if she were pleading to the two to not have her say what burdens her mind, but knowing there are matters she has little to nothing control over, she painfully forces herself to continue. "I have—" she gasps, throat constrained as she swallows, her heartbeat echoing in her ears "I —I have an announcement… no, a dreadful request for you, Y/N-san!!”

Her words hollow in your head as you unwittingly take a step back from her, darting a quick glance towards Hitomi, attempting to corroborate (or perhaps seek comfort?) her sister’s words before looking back at Haruko once more.

“What is it?” you caution, voice low as a whisper, as all kinds of dreadful scenarios begin to flash through your mind, agitatedly hoping that none of them were happening. “Is… is everything ok? Is Mariya ok? What—what about the twins?!”

“They’re fine, they’re ok but… I—I don’t think you will” Haruko frets and your heart drops to your stomach. Hitomi attempts to reprimand her for her poor choice of words as soon as she sees your face pale, but your imperativeness wins her to it.

“What … Do you mean, Haruko?” your murmur and Haruko presses her brows together, dreading that she has to be the one to relay this distressing thought, one that is only destined to interrupt the few moments of peace you’ve only started to regain.

Just how things are always meant to be while in the claws of the Zen’in clan.

“...Na—Naoya’s staff informed me that—that he wants to—to take you to the—the doctor” she stammers in between breaths, yet to regain her stability, but with an announcement such as this that task will fade into the background “And that… you—you should carefully consider your situation since your—since your body body is already in a vulnerable position”

“ What ?” you whisper, and you feel as if you’d been dragged to a pit of darkness “When—when did he say this? How long has he… planned for this?”

“Just right now, I think… They—They told me they couldn’t find Mariya so they asked me to—to let you know instead” she exhales, and then, she finally sits down.

And in a matter of seconds, as your mind runs a thousand miles per second trying to find an answer to his unforeseen predicament, something inside your mind clicks that makes his sudden disappearance all too evident.

Of all the things that you feared, that you believed him to be doing behind the scenes, you were the unlucky winner of his attention.

Adding to the fact he used a servant to inform you… it adds a layer of seriousness to his already mysterious intentions—and it reminded you of that awful night he called you to his chambers soon after returning from his exams.

However, your feelings upon hearing his message weren’t ones of fear or uncertainty—no, it was pure anger .

“Is that—is that what he told you now?!” you hiss, clenching your fingers against your palms to the point where red crescent moons imprint on your skin “Is this—is this his way to coerce me into listening to him?!”

Haruko’s lips tremble at the revelation, with Hitomi following your lead by portraying a scowl of her own as she joins her sister's side.

“He’s growing desperate” you add “He thinks that by doing that, by threatening me with my own health I’ll look at him?! He’ll have to do better than that !”

“Ohh, Y/N-chan please don’t provoke him…” Haruko frets, teary eyes as she attempts to soothe you by placing her hands over your arms “He’s scary enough as it is… I can only imagine what he can do if he puts his mind into it”

You wish to say that you were all but a victim to this sentence, but this was not time to contemplate on things of the past, because all that you need to do is act quickly if you’re to avoid this situation before it worsens.

“...Thank you for letting me know, Haruko” you say as you glance over to Hitomi, who with nothing more but a nod, understood what was the next step to take and started picking up after the sewing kit “We need to talk to Mariya”

“She was at the east wing last time I checked, I can go get her for you” Haruko informs “Do you want to meet her here?”

“No, Tell her to meet me at my room” you respond, starting to gather the clothes with intentions of moving them with you “I should’ve known something was going on with Naoya the moment he stopped pestering me—how foolish was I to not anticipate that?!”

“Don’t berate yourself for something you had no control over” Hitomi says as she gestures to Haruko to help you with the garments, which her sister obliged almost immediately. “But we’ve been careful up to this point, and we cannot budge simply because he’s desperate for some attention. We’ve gone long enough without him, and we can continue that way, we just have to plan accordingly”

“But… but what if he decides to take you by force?” Haruko wonders and you momentarily stop, pressing your lips together as the selection of her wording makes something inside you twinge in pain.

You won’t say that her proposed situation isn’t something you hadn’t considered in the short time you have had to live with this new, unwanted situation. With Naoya, there’s only bad to worse outcomes, however, just because that’s all you’re ever going to get from him, it doesn’t mean you’re not going to do anything to prevent them.

And just as you were doing up to this moment, that’s what you’ll continue to do—starting by reuniting with the best person you knew you could rely on for these situations and come up with something to put an end to this ridiculous charade.

“Oh, he was planning what now ?” Mariya says as soon as Haruko finished relaying the request Naoya sent in through his servants, with the same skepticism you expected her to have. “He’s must be growing desperate ”

“That’s what I was thinking” you reiterare as your ladies give one last scan to the hallway, checking no one was nearby to hear their plotting, before stepping back into your room, closing and locking the door behind them. “He thinks I’m just going to… accept his conditions because he’s threatening me with something he knows is sensitive to me, and just go with him?”

“Hah! Now that is something you won’t do” Mariya scoffs, crossing her arms “I’ll make sure of it”

“But how can we convince him to not take Y/N-san to the doctor?” Haruko mumbles, having taken a bite of one of the many snacks she managed to sneak out of the kitchen on her way to you—the tool she commonly uses to control her anxiety— before offering some to her sister, Mariya, and you; with only you accepting them “There’s not a single moment where he isn’t threatening Y/N-san, why can’t he just leave her alone!”

“Because the men here are incessant when it comes to tormenting others” Mariya responds, stemming from her own experience. “But I'll be damned if I allow this to happen—Nobody knows about her condition more than us”

«And maybe Naoaki…» She ponders, reflecting back on the week he consistently sought you out, not a day passed without him visiting your room… « How did Naoya get this idea in the first place?»

“So all that we have to do is say that she’s greatly improved and that there’s no reason for her to go”

“Will they be convinced just by our word?” Hitomi rightfully asks “Let’s not forget we’re essentially banned from being considered as part of the staff”

“They have to” your prime lady-in-waiting reinforces “Who else is Naoya-sama going to ask? That friend of his, Ranta? His staff? The only thing we’ve ever told others was that you had your period—and that’s only because they were insistent. And never to the full extent of it because it’s not their business! The only ones that would know about it in greater detail would have to be his father, but he’s never been one to involve himself…” Mariya stops at the somber notion of your death sentence. That had been the only exception Naobito ever thought necessary to step in, and what a painful, shocking way to do so…. “So we have an advantage”

“... But—but what if it doesn’t work?” Haruko shudders mid chew and Mariya frowns.

“It’s a risk we have to take.” She reassures her, placing her hand on her shoulder “And if he wants to force her then she’ll have to go through me! We can probably hide her in one of the many rooms here, the Zen’in are too proud to even acknowledge they don’t know the complete layout of their estate, I’m sure there are even rooms they don’t even account for…”

“Then, when will the right time be to start?” Hitomi asks.

“Now—I’ll act as if Haruko was never informed—after all, if they wanted to state something official , then it must pass through me. I’m still surprised Meiko still respects that aspect from me”

Her nonchalant statement makes your heart clench, and the seed of regret you’ve tried your hardest to keep at bay, begins to settle its roots once again.

Mariya had given you a quick run through of why they were placed in that predicament in the first place, hoping to ease your confusion as well as distract you from your own struggles, but far from offering reassurance, it just made you feel more responsible for their well being, as well as devaluing your self worth.

You were their mistress—the one they were responsible for taking care of, who in turn, would provide them a good life for their service.

But it seems that all you’ve ever done since arriving at the estate is to be nothing more than a nuisance to them— and to think you were rude to Mariya at the beginning, for a stupid misunderstanding, only makes matters worse.

That's all in the past, however, and those thoughts don’t distract you from your intentions of venerating their care towards you one day, hopefully… when Hinata saves you from this hellish place.

For now, all you have to do is focus on going through with their plan: Feign ignorance to the point where they have to be approached yet again by Naoya’s staff, and then, if insistent enough, counter them with the notion that they deemed his suggestions unnecessary, sealing it with the fact that your health was actually improving.

It's a heavy compromise that requires everyone to play their parts accurately… you just hope he falls for it.

Yet, as much as you trusted your staff to do what was necessary as well as plan something with nothing but your wellbeing in mind, you still felt as if something were missing… as if there was a point of view you needed to ensure that everything was going accordingly.

Someone… on the inside, so to speak. Someone that could give you a better look of what perhaps the heir's intentions are and offer a much more efficient way to go around his request, and maybe comfort you too…

That missing piece refers to Naoaki, of course, the one person in your entourage you had yet to tell what had transpired moments earlier, and the one you approached as soon as your duties were done.

"Hey, Y/N” He says with a smile as soon as he sees you rapidly approach him. His mind believes it to be you wanting to be with him, making his heart soar at the premise, however, he’d be pulled back to reality when you voiced the following words with a gravity that has him bewildered immediately after.

"Naoaki, we have to talk now!" you say, and he blinks.

"Oh, sure, um… just let me change into something more comfortable and I'll join you—your room or…?"

"My room" and with that, he doesn’t need to inquire any further to understand he cannot afford to waste time. Thus, after he goes to his room to change out of the clothes he’d trained with, he goes straight to your chambers—what he was planning on doing anyways at the end of the day—and steps inside.

Judging by the imperativeness of your tone, Naoaki somewhat expected you to be accompanied by your ladies, yet surprisingly, the first thing that he notices outside of the anxious look on your face is the solitude in which you seem to wrap yourself with.

It’s uncommon for both things to coexist, you were never to suffer on your own, which only makes him feel even more uncertain of what’s to come, but undeniably sure that he needs to be there for you.

And once he’s completely sure that their absence wasn’t to be filled with any unrequited visitors lingering outside your room, he steps towards the futon, where you’d been seemingly impatiently waiting for him, and takes a seat just on the spot besides you.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Even when he desires to approach the subject in the most sensible way possible, he can’t help his mouth from muttering the first thing that crosses his mind. After all, a lifetime of abuse is bound to warp his perception, expecting nothing more than the negative out of his family…

"I'm fine, nothing… has happened, yet" you murmur, and as if second nature, you lean towards his arm, resting your head on your shoulder.

" Yet? " Naoaki frowns, he doesn't like the sound of that, and what usually comes after—at all. "What's going on, Y/N?"

You exhale, mentally preparing yourself to plunge into what is, yet again, another charade from his younger brother—your husband .

"..Today, I was informed by one of my ladies that… he plans on taking me to the doctor" you stated "And although he might not said it explicitly, something tells me he’s planning on forcing me to go if I don’t agree”

It was just a few words, perhaps lesser than what actually transpired, but for Naoaki it was more than sufficient to understand the gravity of the current circumstances, and the infinite list of undesirable circumstances that could unfold if wrong decisions were made.

"When did this happen?"

"...Just short of starting my second task" you answered. It was so early in the morning, it barely gave you any time to breathe… Poor Haruko.

It surprises you, however, that it wasn’t the first thing that greeted you that day considering how things often went down, almost… as if he were hesitant to proceed, by whatever reason.

And assuming by the concerned look on Naoaki’s face, he’s to be thinking the same… which is what prompts you to continue on.

"But Mariya and I already came up with a plan. We’re quite confident it might work, but I just wanted your input, see if there’s anything we’re missing”

"What's the plan?" Naoaki asks, inching closer to you, letting you know you had all of his attention—if it weren’t already obvious by his hand resting on yours.

"Because the announcement was done through his staff to Haruko, Mariya thought we could go down the route of disregarding it because it was never given to her. After all, all official statements have to go through her if they’re to be considered by me”

“And then?” Naoaki tilts his head, he might not say it, but he’s starting to see some kind of… flaw behind this plan—in other words, he’s not convinced yet . But he doesn’t want to say anything until he hears the rest. “What if he insists?”

“Then she’ll state it’s not necessary, because my health is gradually improving—even if that’s… a lie to some extent, they have no one else to corroborate this kind of information, and since the status of my health has never been completely disclosed, they’re going to have to trust them”

"And what if that doesn't work either?"

His questions seem to irritate you, but that seems redundant when you come to understand that it’s his attempt to check for any overlooked details—after all, you did approach him requesting a different point of view…

"... I was hoping you'd help me" you murmur "We think that hiding me away in some unacknowledged room would work and…” you stop to glance up to his face, and there… you suddenly feel silly for going as far as plotting all of this, because at the end of the day, could you ever be free of Naoya’s grasp? Not until your sister comes along. “I already know what you’re going to say" you look away, ashamed. “It’s not going to work, is it?”

Naoaki stares at you for a few seconds, silent as he can be, as he dives into deep thought. It’s not an unusual action from him, often doing so to prepare the right answer he thinks might help you with whatever turmoil you found yourself in.

And while you always liked his caution, it wasn’t what you needed in this particular moment, and far from offering the reassurance it always did, it just brought along more uneasiness.

"Speak to me, Naoaki" you urge, clenching his hand "What… what do you think I should do?”

He sighs. And just by that gesture, you already know you’re not going to like it.

"I think you should go"

And you were right.

" What? " You paled, and Naoaki couldn’t do anything else but laugh nervously, scratching the back of his neck as a gesture of comfort to himself—this is exactly what he didn’t want, but at the same time… what was he expecting by saying that? “Why?”

"Out of context, yes, it sounds awful" he interjects before you could say anything more, or get angrier by that matter. "But first let me explain before you make a conclusion"

You frown, eyes darting towards an empty spot on the covers for a brief second, before going back to Naoaki and gesturing to him to continue. If you’d had a coin for every time he’d said something you deemed controversial, you’d have 2—which isn't much… but you’re astounded that it already happened twice.

Sensing that conflict, Naoaki ensues.

"The only reason I say this is not because the idea of you being with my brother, alone , thrills me, but rather, because…” he pauses, holding his breath before turning to you, eyes softening as he grabs your hands. “You don't know how terrifying it was to see you sick—I didn't know what was going on when it happened, you just suddenly started looking ill , and then, you disappeared. For a week . You say it was just your monthly visit, something that all women go through, and I can admit this isn’t my field to comment on but… I don’t think that’s normal. Less if it’s so painful to the point you can’t even get out of bed”

You look away.

Seeing it that way… you could understand where he was coming from.

But it still wasn’t convincing for you to accept Naoya’s “suggestion”...

"You were kept away from the rest of the world, and from what little you told me, I understood this was less painful than the last, but still bad” Naoaki pressed his lips together, caressing your knuckles with his thumb “Ah, I know this is probably not what you wanted to hear, but if there was a way to help you, to get a bit better… I would want you to take it"

"Even… if it's from Naoya?" you murmur, and he nods.

"I would've taken you if I could, you know that, Y/N." he reiterates, clasping your hand.

He notices the slightest restraint coming from you when it comes to accepting his gesture, a reaction that has him sinking deeper into his guilt, yet, he doesn't backtrack, not… until you’ve heard what’s on his mind.

“But if I do I'll only be placing you in danger, the estate might even come to think I'm kidnapping you. And I don't want to expose you any more than you already are"

"And you think this won't compromise me? Going out with Naoya?” you interject “Did you forget what happened the last time I went out—" and then, suddenly stop. A stillness that has Naoaki furrowing his brow in concern.

You haven't told him of your death sentence, the reason why you went to the doctor in the first place…

"What happened?" He asks and you shake the horrible memories of that day from your head.

"It’s—nothing, we just got into an argument, nothing new." you whisper "But I don't want that, not again . I don't think I can take it anymore—"

"... I know" he murmurs, placing his head over your crown and kissing it. You relax against him. "I know. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you. But… Please understand that your health is important, and that you shouldn’t be suffering for it— Don't let him take this away from you too"

If there was one thing that you could always count on Naoaki for, outside of his comfort, was his honesty..

As much as it hurts you to say… he was right . There was an unspoken concern from your side when it came to the mystery of your status; it had been so long since you had a professional check you up, were you even healed from those… wounds ? Or at least in a better condition?

Your body was already in a fragile state hormonally, way before Naoya’s… defilement , and if you don't treat it the repercussions might be permanent—something you dread to even think of.

… All evidence was pointing into that direction. It’s so obvious that you should’ve taken this situation with a cold mind, not guided by your fear…

Thus, with much dejection, you accept that Naoaki's concerns were in the right place and effectively conclude that going to the doctor, instead of evading the subject, was the right course of action.

After your conversation with him is done, you immediately go back to your ladies’ room to relay to them your new decision, which was received with both frustration and annoyance (just as you expected) from them through various reasons: first, Naoaki’s persuasion—Hitomi being the main carrier of this sentiment, Haruko the immediate second. They felt as if he’d undone all that they carefully planned, a rightful sentiment to have given the circumstances.

And secondly, for his involvement. Here is where Mariya took the stage.

She was beyond angry to hear that he’d essentially convinced you to change your mind, and to say that she did not like him was nothing new, but her emotions, however, didn’t solely pertain to this fact. They extended over to a circumstance which she would never admit out loud, and that is… she actually found herself agreeing with him, understanding what he meant.

Yes, him , of all people! Mariya couldn’t believe it! Did she hit her head without even noticing?!

But the recollection of your first period, your fourteen days of bleeding, and then your second one, where your case of nausea had been so frightening, that you couldn’t remain at your bed without a bucket on your side —and that’s without even counting your lack of appetite on both of them, as well as your constant pain and runs to the bathroom…— It was all concerning indeed.

Mariya did what she could with what she had and what she had to comply to, but she won’t deny that there were more moments where she wished she carried the authority to call for a doctor and put a direct end to your pains—it's common for a woman to go through these trials, but it should not disrupt your life to this extent!

It’s why she doesn’t have much more to say or contemplate once you’ve made your decision.

Why Mariya goes ahead to summon Naoya’s staff first thing in the morning and inform you that you are to accept his request. From there, all that was left to do was schedule a day for your departure, and prepare you accordingly for it.

Your prime lady-in-waiting could only imagine the wicked face the heir must’ve put upon hearing your decision.

And while she was right in some department, the one that considered Naoya to be elated to be with you once again, it wasn’t as devilish as she envisioned.

Naoya was more relieved than anything—for it was the first step of Ranta’s plan being set in motion.

Such was his excitement that as soon as he received news of your approval he ran towards the phone to schedule an appointment with the doctor, the same one as before, for the day after.

It was a rare opportunity that came after days of nothing but incertitude, and he was to be a fool if he didn’t make the best of it.

It was thrilling to think that he was going to be with you again, away from the unpleasant commentary of his family, your noisy staff—but most importantly, away from the bothersome presence of his brother.

He was finally going to be with you , and just you , how it always should’ve been.

Naoya almost feels regretful for having doubted Ranta at the very beginning, because after everything was said and done, he was right to assume that you’d agree to look past your emotional differences and form a truce with the purpose of tending your health, your worth , as his father would say— Your husband didn’t see it that way, of course, just one of the many things he saw differently from Naobito… although he was in agreement with the consternation both had when hearing of your condition, and made through your own volition, no less…

Well, that’s one (of the many) obstacles he hopes will iron out once the second part of Ranta’s plan comes into fruition.

«Once you take her to the doctor, and it’s determined that her health is in good condition, you can relay this to your father and you’ll see how everything will start to change! You have to fight bad news with good news, Naoya, you just… uh, gotta be persistent»

He’s never been one to care for the approval of his father, less when the elders had already set him to be the heir from a very young age, the highest recognition there is to get in the Zen’in clan, but if it’s for the sake of getting out of this dark pit of his despairs, and maybe, start anew with you… then he’ll do as he needs.

But as expected of Naoya’s thoughts, deprived of any sense of rationale and care for anyone outside himself, his mind began to thread him into another realm of delusional possibilities, away from your health, his father’s approval, and back to you… one that somehow makes him believe that the reason behind your acceptance, far from wanting to know where your condition stood (although by your staff’s fretting words, he can imagine it stands high up in the list of your priorities) is because… you wanted to see him .

Because why else would you suddenly agree to go out with him, after going to great lengths in imposing distance between the two, if that wasn’t the case?

It’s almost as if his desperation blinded him from the fact that he had seen his brother leave your room just nights ago—although this could also be an effect of Ranta’s persuasive words reminding him to not give up, at least until he’s wasted all resources, since there’s no stated actions between the two… yet.

Oh, but Naoya seems to be fated to never learn, and he’s going to remember such a thing when the day of your outing comes at dawn, first thing in the morning—no, earlier than that, you were cited to be there far earlier than the last time you went to the doctor by some strange reason…— as he makes way towards the entrance, where you and your ladies are already waiting for him… alongside a few extra members of the staff which desired to see the newest episode in the drama between the heir and his wife.

Naoya urge to demand their absence was great, but the image of Ranta in the corner of his eye sways him to stop and control himself—the day is just beginning, thus doing anything irrational so early in his plan will ruin any chances of “reconciliation”

Outside of that, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you: it had been so long since he’d last seen you, overall, and it had been far longer since he’d seen you wear an attire that didn’t relate to those of a domestic employee.

For the occasion, your ladies dressed you up in a beautiful purple and blue kimono accompanied by a white obi that only highlighted the color combination—Naoya judges by the slight bulkiness he was able to perceive from your figure that you were appropriately warmed up for the day ahead, at least he doesn’t have to worry about that— from there, the second thing that caught his eye were the hair clips decorating your hair, —which was let down for the occasion, away from the tightness it seemed to be imbued in whenever you had to work around the house— ones that he vaguely recognize as one of the many wedding gifts you received at the reception, presumably from his family: purple butterfly clips of a similar shade of your kimono , giving you the regal look befitting of the wife of the heir.

And from there, your face. Regardless of the makeup that you donned, kept to the minimal and only to highlight your features, his attention was set somewhere else.

It had been… so long since he was this close to you, that he almost felt he had forgotten what your face looked like.

No—of course not. He could never forget what the face of his beloved wife looked like, instead, his feeling seemed to be more of… having forgotten what your calming presence felt like.

You looked absolutely beautiful. But in all honesty, he can't recall a day where you weren't—for all things accounted, he guesses he shouldn’t be surprised as to why others naturally gravitated towards you, seeing you as a work of art worthy of admiration.

However, it didn’t mean he would be all but appreciative of the jealousy that came along with it, especially when it pertained to his oldest brother, who had done nothing more than intrude in the moments that were reserved for husband and wife.

His chest hurts just thinking about the possibility of you sharing that title with someone else, but his mind pushes it aside as he’s quick to reassure himself with Ranta’s words, yet again: This was only the beginning of the day, of the mission per se, and he’s never been one to give up before his opponents.

But as Naoya sunk deeper into his delusion, convincing himself of an ulterior motive behind your actions, the only thing you could worry about is answering the endless questions about your condition.

Did you still have those… wounds inside you? Will your period become worse over time? Was there perhaps any medication that you could take to hopefully quiet down your pains?

You doubt the doctor would be kind enough to help you that way, considering his comments and past behavior, but you've already lost so much as to not ask.

And last, but not least… Was there any way to know where you stood in the timeline of your fertility? The man had previously stated that the effects of the pills you were taking to control your cramps could take from weeks to months to disappear, the only reason you were on death row, as well as allowing you to live as long as you have, away from Naoya.

But if the doctor somehow managed to declare that you were ready to have a child… you could only shudder at the implications.

As it shall be given unto you, so shall it be taken away—you just hope that the gods find enough kindness in themselves to offer you the briefest of mercies…

“Are you sure you want to go?” Mariya asks one last time, just to be sure, as she begins to walk you closer to your husband. “You still have time to back off, and we’ll be here to support you”

“No, I— I’m set on this decision” you say, looking at her as she grasps your hand, even if you were trembling at the prospect of leaving without them.

“Think of it as getting something that needed to be done out of the way first” Hitomi attempts to console—there is truth behind her words, if you somehow managed to evade Naoya’s persuasion at first, he’d only find a way to insist once more… There were many things that just couldn’t be hidden under the sun forever when it came to you. Better now than later, she supposes. “Still… I can’t figure out what his intentions are behind this? Why… now ?”

“Let’s not speak of that while he’s here” Mariya hushes her once she believes Naoya to be within earshot. He seemed rather amicable that morning, better not mess it up. “Be brave, Y/N. We’ll be here, waiting for you”

“In fact, we won’t leave this place!” Haruko chirps in, and her sister shakes her head. “Well, at least I will. I won’t be able to focus on anything else anyway”

“Don’t do that, Haruko” you chuckle “...I don’t want you to get into trouble with Meiko-san, or Junko-san for that matter”

“It’s not us you should worry about” Hitomi adds once she senses Naoya’s eyes to be on you once more. The mere thought of being in the same area as him is enough to sicken her, and frighten her as well… “Please… be careful”

“As careful as I can be” you murmur, stopping just a few feet away from your estranged husband, the moment you dreaded so much, finally here. “I’ll see you when I get back”

“And we’ll be here” Mariya nods “Be safe”

With that, your ladies took a step back and left you to your husband, whose golden eyes hadn’t peeled away from you from the moment you came closer to his eyeshot, but you wouldn’t know because yours was glued to the floor.

Something that he intends to rectify, because he… Well, he wants to see you.

“Y/N” He calls, but you do not respond. You don’t even lift your gaze to his, at least not the first time, still stuck on the rocky ground.

“ Y/N ” Naoya repeats sternly, careful enough to not appear angry because he doesn’t want to start off on the wrong foot (just as Ranta advised him), but strong enough to show he’s serious, and this is when you finally look up.

Your gaze is intense, heavy on him, and yet… he can’t shake the notion that you’re not looking at him, but rather, through him, before briefly returning to the same spot on the ground.

“Are you ready?” He asks in an attempt to catch your attention back to him, and maybe, hopefully , start a conversation.

And that’s what usually transpired back then, when he felt he had some semblance of control… or relevance in your mind. Probably what you would’ve done in this moment too, just to remain under his radar and avoid any find of instigation on your part, but something inside you pushes you past your boundaries of self-preservation to respond with the tone you felt he deserved to be referred with—the only one he merited, and the one that would set the tone for the rest of the day.

“I’m here, aren’t I? ”

Naoya swallows, taking the stinging sensation of your indifference to the chest as his eyes unwittingly dart to the approaching figure on the corner of his eye and the rumbling sound that follows—the car.

After a few seconds, the driver stops the car just a few feet away from the gates, setting the vehicle in park alongside the engine turned on before getting out of the vehicle and walking over to his master.

“The car is ready, sir” he says as Naoya glances over to the familiar black car, the same one he used to bring you from the ryokan the couple spent their “honeymoon” in, as well as take you to the doctor last time.

His mind wasn’t particularly anywhere when it came to the existence of the car, he trusted his staff to upkeep it in the best way possible. However, it was accumulating quite the mileage and the prospect of buying a new one was looming closer and closer as days went by—but who knows if that will ever come to happen, after all, he’s fallen out of grace with the elders, and just this outing had to be approved through loops and loops of justifications…

Up until now, this had been nothing more than a negative beginning, unwieldy steps of Ranta’s plan.

Yet, even when everything seems to be against him, he doesn’t lose hope. He pushes through this obstacle as he moves onto the car, first heading towards the passenger side to open the door and gesturing to you to step inside, while waiting for you to do so after you’re done waving goodbye to your staff…

That is, until he inadvertently catches sight of an additional figure approaching the crowd, one that has him rattling his belief yet again as he sees your face somewhat lighten up at his presence: his brother .

Naoya tries his best to ignore his pain as you finally step into the car, deafening himself from the chattery crowd who have nothing to comment on Naoaki’s arrival as he closes your door and moves on to the driver’s side.

He opens the door, gets into the driver’s seat, and once fastened his seatbelt, he takes hold of the steering wheel to begin driving into their new destination—with such focus on the road… one would almost think he was trying to run away.

The car soon begins to fade into the horizon, getting further and further away until it’s no longer seen. And when that happens, the crowd dissipates to return to their duties.

Yet, your staff remains, even when no one was there anymore—nervously glancing at each other with trembling lips and sorrowful eyes as they silently prayed that the events of that hauntingly similar day… wouldn’t occur again.

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x your #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #series: first it hurts—

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primofate · 3 years

Note

Hi! Congrats on 2000 followers! 🎉💖

Could I request Cinnamon Sugar Waffles with Zhongli please?

Thank you and congratulations again!

Thank you so much dear! :D I believe two of you asked for this, so far. So here it is.

If you guys missed it. Here’s the menu to my 2k followers event:

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/660337440627785728/2k-follower-event-pancake-waffle-cafe

Cinnamon Sugar Waffle (“I change my mind, I like you, okay?”)

Note: Zhongli would never outright say something like that so... I tried my best. IT’S REALLY MILD ANGST I FEEL LIKE IT’S MORE FLUFF HAHA I’M SORRY

Zhongli

“That poor girl,” Hutao said, in a not so remorseful voice. In fact, it sounded as if she was having fun in explaining your situation. Zhongli looks up from his tea to the Director.

“You are referring to...?” Zhongli trails off, not quite sure what his current boss meant. Hutao merely ignored him and hummed to herself, looking busy with papers. Zhongli stares at her. Patience was not an issue with Zhongli, even with Hutao.

But the Director continues to hum to herself, glancing at the clock and merely excalimed, “7:00 on the dot!” her head swerves towards the door of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. As if a fortune teller, there’s a knock. “Come in!” Hutao sings, and in you come with a package in your hand. “Hutao, Zhongli, good evening!”

Zhongli smiles out of courtesy. Ah. She was talking about you. Perhaps about the fact that you visited every day just to drop off fresh tea leaves. For him. “Y/N,” Zhongli curtly greeted and braced himself for another round of you explaining what type of tea leaves you’ve brought today.

The first few times was rather amusing. Informative, even. For someone like him who had seen nearly everything and with the experience of 6000 years, he still managed to learn something from you, albeit just a little. Most of the tea leaves you bought, he was aware of its history, its uses and its benefits. Weeks later when you still continued to visit, on the dot, Zhongli started to wonder if this had become some type of hobby for you. I didn’t bother him at all, but he was curious as to why you did it. Hutao suddenly excused herself, saying that she needed another piece of document from another room.

“How are you today, Zhongli?” You asked and took out a small sachet full of dried leaves. “Quite a mundane day,” he answered, and pushed away some documents to make way for you. “Today is a special blend! I mixed it myself,” he watched how your eyes sparkled as you told him about your special blend of tea. A mix of dried berries and ground Camellia leaves. Invigorating you say, for days where one is a little more tired than usual.

It then suddenly occurs to him that you are doing this for him. Zhongli is far from dull-witted. Hutao was not present at the moment, and you only ever explained the tea leaves to HIM and not the Director. Nevertheless, he continues to watch you explain the other benefits of it, and its taste, then after putting back the small pouch into the paper bag, handing it over to him.

Zhongli accepts it but clears his throat slightly. “Y/N,” you tilt your head in question at his sudden, somewhat serious tone. “Yes?” He’s silent for a moment, ruminating on what to say. “Pardon me for inquiring and I do not mean to imply any hostility, but...” he fixes his gaze on you, “perhaps you’re allocating too much time on this?”

You frown a little. He says that he didn’t mean any harm, but it sounded as if, in his own careful, sophisticated and nice words, that you were wasting time on it. Or were you just imagining it? You decide that Zhongli isn’t that petty, and smile in return “It’s only really one hour out of my day...” and without hesitation you add, “and it’s for you, so I don’t mind at all.”

Zhongli only hums in understanding. He senses that this is more than just a daily visit for him to be healthy and drink tea. “I see,” then there’s a small tension in the air. An awkwardness that hangs between the two of you until he breaks it. “I still have some tea from last time, you see, and the day before that...” your cheeks start to heat up in embarrassment, because you know what he’s implying before he even finishes. He was just too nice to say it outright: you were coming by too much and too frequently.

“Ah, yea, I...see,” then you push the paper bag further towards him before bowing, “I’m sorry to bother you then, I’ll see myself out,” still you smile and still he smiles, just to be polite. He...hadn’t really planned for you to feel small or terrible about it. Perhaps him trying to be indirect and dropping hints was more hurtful than the truth.

Since you had gotten the hint, for the next few days you had neither dropped by nor seen the man. It wasn’t strange to Zhongli. He went by his tasks and day as usual. But something strange happened by the seventh day. There was a distinct feeling of “something is missing” as if his every day routine had not been completed and it left him a little antsy.

It was similar to having an itch that one couldn’t scratch.

He was unsettled. He merely thought that it was something that would pass but by the 11th day, the itch just got worse.

He’d made a mistake. It was not just the fact that the routine was broken, but more about the unease and uncertainty. Were you doing well? What kinds of things had you been doing the past few days? Was it his words that had forced you to stay away or were you perhaps actually occupied with your own business? Either way...maybe it was his turn to visit.

“...Hutao, would you happen to know where Y/N resides?”

Hutao giggles happily, Zhongli raises his eyes at the sudden sound. “Finally giving in, huh?” He doesn’t reply, but he still receives directions to your house, which he visits, at 7:00 sharp.

You’re beyond surprised to see him standing outside your door and for a minute you wonder if he was lost. “...Y/N, have you been well?” He doesn’t ask to be invited in. What right did he have? The only thing you do is open the door a little wider and smile at him, as if nothing had happened. “...Quite...a mundane few days,” a grin appears on his features, knowing that you had thrown him the same reply as he did that day.

“I must say it’s been the same for myself,” you chuckle, thinking that he had nothing more to add. “perhaps a little more mundane than usual, I admit, without your presence around,” you freeze at the words. Eyes trained upon him and unsure of what he meant. You tear your gaze off of him in slight embarrassment, turning to the ground. “Mmhmm,” yet again there’s a bit of silence hanging around like a curtain concealing and separating the two of you from the rest of the world.

Like the two of you were in your own world.

He speaks up first, voice smooth and low. “...would you be opposed to the idea of me visiting you instead?” because he thinks you’ve done your fair share of work. You’ve done your fair share of showing interest. And try as you might to stop your lips from curling upward, you fail at it, showing a slightly lopsided smile. “No, I would love that,”

“7:00 on the dot?

“7:00 on the dot.”

#zhongli x reader #zhongli slight angst #zhongli fluff #primofate 2k follower event #genshin fluff

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kyberheart · 3 years

Text

A Deceitful Creation Part #1 - Wolffe x F!Reader

Part #2

Summary: You’ve been trying for a while now to get pregnant with your lover. Knowing that may never happen, you ask for some outside help from Wolffe on the down-low...

Word Count: 1483

Warnings: 18+, piv sex, infidelity, pregnancy/trying for a baby, cursing, angst

A/N: Heyyyyyyyy.... I’m still here! I had some stuff going on this past week so I missed my Friday fic upload, but hey! It’s Sunday, only missed it by a few days so whatever. I’m still working on part #3 of my little Techy-boy story. Hopefully will be finished by Friday the 3rd! Heh... part #3 on the 3rd... perfect. ANYWAY I hope you like this little blurb I wrote. I wanted maximum sad with lots of OOF. I kept the summary and header as vague as possible to not spoil the end. Good luck in there!

(Ao3 Link if ya want it)

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

Wolffe was different with you. All teeth and tongue and nails dug into the plump flesh of your thighs. The look adorning his eyes in this moment is akin to a knife’s edge; he was holding back as not to tear you to shreds.

Your lover on the other hand, well… he was the whisper of a cool breeze in the night. A cascading avalanche of stolen breaths and languid strokes. Completely and utterly tender with you.

“C-close Wolffe, almost…I’m—!”

He nods, stooping to kiss you, but swiftly retracts his head with a tiny scowl. He knew the rules. No marks that can’t be covered up, no pet names, and under no circumstances can he kiss you. This was just a mutually beneficial transaction. Nothing more, nothing less.

“I got you… I got you…”

He’s reaching down, down, down to make contact with your clit. You keen, dropping your head back into the mattress. He fucks you through your orgasm, spilling inside of you as your legs wrap tightly around his waist. You tremble under him as you come down from your high. In a blur of muscle-memory Wolffe is reaching behind you for a pillow. He props your hips upward with it, grinding into you a few more times to make sure his seed is in there nice and deep.

“If this isn’t the one, I’m not sure if I can help. Maybe what they say is true, maybe we’re all infertile. I mean, I’ve heard rumors of defectors running off and getting people knocked up, but…” He shrugs, pulling out of you to head into the ‘fresher. You sigh, staring at the grey ceiling above you. That really wasn’t the case. Some were infertile, yes. You knew that all too well…

“I’m headed out. I have a supply run to facilitate. You alright?”

Wolffe grunts as he snaps his scratched armor around himself. He wasn’t much for conversations after the act. Rather, he preferred to be on his merry way as fast as possible. It wasn’t so much to avoid catching feelings as it was to steer clear of talking. He was undoubtedly the most stand-offish of the clones you knew. You were often surprised at how easy it was to lure him into the bedroom with how hostile his demeanor could be. Though on second thought he was just a normal guy. Sex is just as fun for him as it is for others.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks Wolffe. If this one doesn’t stick I’ll leave you alone.”

He pauses to search your face. You smile at him, wrapping your arms around your chest with a sleepy yawn. A garbled message blips from his forearm, which he answers with a quick acknowledgement before seating his helmet onto his head.

“Understood. I’ll see you around. Say hi to my vod for me when he gets back.”

And with that, he’s silently leaving your apartment into the void beyond. In the silence of the room your mind wanders once more. You think of your lover. Where was he right now? Somewhere far, far away? Somewhere he was safe? Was he warm, fed, and happy?

The cool dribble of Wolffe’s cum down your thigh snaps you from your rumination. You glance at the clock, finding it’s already been twenty minutes since he’d left. More than enough time, you think. With a quick curl of your spine you’re up on your feet and heading to the ‘fresher for a nice long shower. Hopefully when you were out you’d have a comm or a message from your lover.

----------------- He hunches low, lips hovering so close to your ear his hot breaths could have burned a hole through your head.

“That’s it baby, such a good girl. Just a—oh, squeezing me so tight tonight, huh? This’ll be the one, the kriffing ONE. Gonna fuck you full, fill you up to bursting. Make you s-swell with my baby. Can’t wait to see you like that… all mine…”

You cum so hard the world around you dissipates into nothing but him. He growls, pitching you forward with his angled thrusts. His hips crush you into the bed as he cums right along with you. His amber eyes sizzle with freshly tapped desire. Whispered adorations mingle between the two of you, lost to the spinning darkness of the night. When you’ve calmed your heaving breaths, you reach up to grab one of the pillows above you. He helps you position it under your hips before kissing you roughly. Between pecks, he speaks with a heart full of gentle sweetness.

“I’ll keep doing this—you’ll see. We’ll have a little one running around before you know it. Our little adi’ka… yeah…”

His eyes grow distant, lips stilling at the nape of your neck. You huff, smacking his shoulder with your hand.

“I know babe, don’t worry. With how much you’ve been between my legs I think we’ll be having LOTS of them running around.”

You wink at him, leaning up to kiss him again. He chuckles, reciprocating your heavy prodding tongue with his own within your mouth.

“I just… I know we’ve been trying for over a year… what if I...”

You shoot him a frown, tilting your head up to look him straight in the eyes. The fact of the matter was daunting and sat like tepid acid on your tongue. If he knew he wasn’t able to sire children, it would truly break him.

“NO! You are perfectly fine the way you are. I’d know, remember? I’m chief medical officer here dummy. You—WE have nothing to worry about. It’ll happen when the time is right. Trust me.”

He smiles at you, the sight of which could warm even the frostiest planet of Hoth into the dunes of Tatooine. All your love, all your patience and turmoil and sympathy and curiosity and… kriff, you’re everything was him. All him, always was and always will be. Him.

-------------------- The vividness of your dream wakes you with a start. It seemed to be recurring the last few days, a memory of the last time you and your lover were together. You shake your head of the images that haunted you. If only he was home, you wouldn’t worry so much about him.

It had already been a few weeks since Wolffe had occupied your bed. A queasy feeling was beginning to settle low in your stomach. Your lover hadn’t been back in a long while, and you were starting to think something wasn’t right.

You rise to pee, realizing in the dimly lit hush of dawn that this was becoming a frequent occurrence for you. When your shirt brushes a bit too roughly against one of your nipples you yelp. Were they always so sore in the morning? Wait…

Could this be it? A surge of adrenaline hits you like a Hammerhead Corvette as you rush into the ‘fresher. Not long after, you have a small white strip laying on your counter. Your knee bobs with anticipation, head in your hands as you sit on the hard tiled floor. This might just be it!

As the lines swell in the tiny viewport, you force yourself to breathe as deeply as possible. The memory pushes it’s way to the front of your mind once more to taunt you, to make you feel a twinge of guilt at what you’ve done. With a groan you run your fingers soothingly through your hair. You knew you could do this. Joy, passion, and relief would pave over the deceit from which this baby would be born. Your lover would never know the truth, but it was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Forging a life, a family for the two of you was all that mattered right now.

The time is up. The minutes counted down with bated breaths. A scream tears its way from your throat as you see the result:

Pregnant

Before you can have a full-blown excitement meltdown, a beeping from the other room draws your attention. Your comm sits on your nightstand, signaling you of an incoming message. The words flash on the screen as you wipe tears from your eyes:

Dropping in to save a Jedi Master on Lola Sayu. Don’t worry, should be home before your pretty little head hits the pillow. See you soon my love. My heart is yours, forever.

Oh, you were squealing with delight now. It was finally happening! For REAL! This was a dream come true. A baby… you were going to have a baby! And your lover was going to be home by the end of the day. You wanted to comm him, send him a picture of the test, yell it to the kriffing UNIVERSE that you were fulfilling a long-awaited dream. Both of you were. You calmed yourself, resolving to tell him in person when he got home.

You couldn’t wait until Echo was back!

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moonlit-han · 4 years

Text

bad squirrel ↠ han jisung

genre: bad boy!jisung au, enemies to lovers au, high school au; humor word count: 2.8k warnings: so fluffy, swearing, mildly suggestive | gender-neutral reader request: yes (thank you for such a clearly imagined and fun request, anon!)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You’d never understood why Han Jisung had to be so loud.

Wasn’t the “bad boy” of the school supposed to be the quiet, brooding type? Not that Jisung didn’t do his fair share of lurking in corners doing gods knew what, sneaking out of the school to mysteriously reappear hours later, and drinking from a flask in the middle of class…. But he was just so damn loud. All the time! And because Jisung was loud in class, you strongly disliked him. Sure, he did his work (sometimes, like when the sun rose in the west) and had friends—two, to be exact: Chan and Changbin—but other than that, he kept to himself, yet was somehow loud. Jisung also strutted around the school like he owned it, looking much like a disgruntled raven.

As you were in the same year, you were intimately familiar with all his less-than wonderful propensities, and had listened to more gossip about him than you’d care to admit. Granted, that was simply to hear anything about him. You had a strange fascination with Jisung that somehow existed in tandem with your dislike—you couldn’t understand it. And, you commonly thought about him at the most random times; this also meant that you ranted to your best friend, Seungmin, far too often.

Jisung sat in the corner of the cafeteria with Chan and Changbin, and scribbled. He was always scribbling in a notebook he kept in his back pocket, and you wanted to know what he was writing—probably something like emo poetry. And today was no different. Occasionally, he’d look up and stare into the middle distance.

“Do you ever wonder what goes on inside his head?” you asked as you chewed a mouthful of your lunch. Seungmin saw where your gaze rested and rolled his eyes.

“No. Definitely not.”

“But would it be cool to—”

“Again, no,” Seungmin interrupted before you could careen off onto one of your tangents about the merits of this person or that. Except, this person featured all too commonly in those tangents, and Seungmin was tired of hearing it. “I don’t want to hear about the exact wave pattern in Han Jisung’s hair or how long you think he’d had that leather jacket. And I definitely don’t want to hear your thoughts on his skinny jeans.”

You smirked, turning back to the table in front of you on which you’d neatly arranged your lunch: grapes, almonds, a container of rice, and a mix of vegetables and fish. You hadn’t necessarily been planning to rant about Jisung, but now that Seungmin mentioned it…

“What do you think he does when he’s not in school?” you mused, chasing a bit of cabbage around the bottom of your lunch container with your chopsticks. “I mean, he seems to just exist in his own little world—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with anyone except Minho and Chan, and even then, not that often.”

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Seungmin yawned, resting his chin on his hand. “Probably goes off to some corner and broods. That’s what guys like him do: brood and very obviously not talk about how emotionally distraught they are or whatever. But in a Byronic way—I don’t think Jisung has a violent bone in his body.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at your best friend, who was steadily losing patience with the whole conversation. “I can think of one bone that might be quite . . . angry and maybe violent but probably just hard. Good with forceful th—”

“I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT HAN JISUNG’S DICK, Y/N!” Seungmgin burst out, drawing stares from the other students seated at neighboring tables, including Jisung himself. You made to bang your head on the table, more embarrassed than you’d been in a long time.

Seungmin, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “Y-Y/N, oh my god, I’m sorry. Hey, don’t hit me!” This was because you had started playfully but insistently punching his thigh. “It’s fine,” Seungmin continued, trying to reassure you. “It’s not like I said anything that would— Oh shit, he’s coming over here.”

You tried to slide under the table, but only succeeded in getting yourself stuck before shimmying back into your seat. You looked up just in time to see Jisung slide into the seat opposite you and lean meaningfully on the table.

“So, Y/N,” he drawled, flashing a feline grin at you. “What exactly did I just hear?”

“I didn’t say anything, Han,” you retorted, nose aloofly in the air.

Jisung sighed. “Okay, okay, maybe you didn’t say anything, but Seungmin definitely did.” Seungmin spluttered and shook his head violently, really not wanting to be drawn into your squabble.

“So?” you said casually, still picking at your lunch. Meanwhile, your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. “So what if he said something?”

“Why would Seungmin say anything about me, though,” Jisung said. “It’s not like you two like me or anything.”

You just stared at Jisung. Why did he sound petulant? “No, we don’t. You didn’t hear anything, so go away!”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Jisung wheedled. “I know you’re curious….”

“Han, what the hell?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Jisung protested, leaning back as his hands waved wildly.

“I—” you began, and gulped. “It’s just… You’re just this moody guy who walks around like he owns the place. And you wear tight skinny jeans that leave very little to the imagination. How could I not assume you at least think you have . . . um, yeah.”

“I can’t believe you just said that,” Seungmin moaned, and stuffed his fingers in his ears.

Jisung had leaned forward now and was staring at you intently. You looked away, even more embarrassed than before, and he sighed.

“Y/N, I’m not quite sure what to say, besides the fact that I like my tight pants.” He paused, then chuckled lightly and winked. “And that you clearly like my tight pants, too.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and blurted. “Why are you even talking to us, Han?”

Jisung stopped as he rose from the table. “I was intrigued. Plus, you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Han winked, then turned and walked back to Chan and Changbin.

You just watched him go—casually appreciating the view—completely stunned. Had Han Jisung just said you were cute? Ugh?

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” Seungmin was shaking your shoulder. “Y/N, you might start drooling if you don’t watch out.”

Coming back to yourself, you hurriedly shut your mouth and demanded, “Did he just say I was cute?”

“How am I supposed to know? I had my fingers in my ears!” Seungmin exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

“Well, you are no help whatsoever,” you grumbled, and went back to eating your food.

Seungmin was silent for a moment, then said, “Do- Do you like him?”

You almost choked on your rice. “What?”

“Do you like him?” he repeated.

“The last time I checked, I definitely didn’t like Han Jisung. He annoys the hell out of me!”

Like the traitor he was, your best friend just made a ruminative noise and smiled down at his food.

↠↞

There was a park along the route you walked to and from school every day, and you liked to cut through to its other side as a short cut and to have some time in nature. Today, the leaves rustled loudly under your feet as you wove between the trees, distracting you sufficiently that you were completely wrapped up in your thoughts until your eye caught on a spot of black.

You stopped and squinted, brows furrowed ever so slightly. You couldn’t be sure, but that looked to be Han Jisung squatting under an oak at the edge of the park. Thinking the last thing you wanted was Jisung to see you spying—no, simply watching as you, too, strolled through the park—on him, you ducked behind a tree.

A few feet away from Jisung, assuming it was him, a squirrel sat on its haunches. It looked like he was talking to the squirrel, holding out his hand with a small pile of sunflower seeds resting in its center. As you watched, the squirrel, clearly used to this sort of thing, scurried forward and then away, its prize of seeds securely held in its mouth. This happened several times: the squirrel snatching a few seeds, stashing them around the other side of the tree, then coming back to retrieve more from Jisung’s hand. Strangest of all, you could have sworn you heard cooing along the lines of, “Aren’t you so good? Yes, you’re such a good little squirrel. Ooooh mhmm that tastes good, doesn’t it!”

Seeing the boy stand, you pulled your torso back behind the tree and peeked out as he walked away with a spring in his step. Yes, that was definitely Jisung.

Lost in your thoughts, you began to walk home. Feeding squirrels and talking to them was not “bad boy” behavior—of that much you were certain. So, did this mean that Jisung wasn’t as bad as you’d thought? Or was he slowly killing the squirrel by lacing the seeds with poison?

You shook your head, scolding yourself for such thoughts. But the fact remained: Han Jisung fed the squirrels and acted distinctly cute around them, and seemed to drop the persona he cultivated at school.

In a nutshell: you were confused.

The next day, you walked home the same way and at the same time, hoping you’d catch Jisung with the squirrel again. As you neared the edge of the park, sure enough, there was Jisung. You wrestled with your conscience for a moment, then walked the last meters to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“What?!” Jisung exclaimed, shooting to his feet and almost hitting you in the nose with the back of his head. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“I was walking home,” you said innocently, giving Jisung a bright smile.

The young man in front of you was shifting back and forth on his feet. “Did you see—“

“Did I see you talking to a squirrel?” You grinned now, crossing your arms. “Yes. Yes, I did, Han.” Jisung spluttered. “Not so bad a boy, are you?”

“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like that!” he begged. “Just because I wear all black, brood, and write emo poetry—“

“Hah! So you do write it!”

Jisung gave you a look. “Yes, I write poetry and song lyrics for my friends. What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” you chirped.

“Can you-“ Jisung sighed. “Can you at least not tell anyone that I feed and talk to the squirrels? It’s, like, my own way of doing good, you know?”

“Sure, I won’t tell anybody. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, the more you know…” Jisung said and, yet again, winked at you before striding away. You admired the stark contrast between his black clothes and the oranges, yellows, and reds of the leaves on the ground.

↠↞

A couple of weeks later at the end of October, your English class was lucky enough to go on a weekend camping trip to experience the misty atmosphere in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Part of you thought that your teacher was a bit odd for wanting them all to get spooked by mist, but you couldn’t argue with the fact that the foliage was beautiful. After a long day of traipsing through the forest to find the perfect lookout point for the next morning’s mist viewing, the class gathered around a fire to eat and talk.

The fire was warm in front of you where you sat on a conveniently placed log; if you'd been any closer, you would have definitely singed something. You'd been a bit stupid and hadn't brought a proper jacket, thinking the evenings would still be warm at the end of October, but oh how wrong you were. Your nose was cold and your hands were even colder, a fact you tried to hide by sitting on your hands. Soon, however, your shoulders and back felt the slight breeze the rustled the leaves surrounding the clearing.

Across the fire, Jisung tracked your every move with bright eyes. In truth, he’d been watching you all evening and noticed that you were now cold. He noticed a lot about you these days, really. You didn’t see him quietly staring, his black clothes turning him nearly invisible, but you knew he was there on the other side of the flames.

You jumped a little, shoulders shrugging as warmth settled around them, and looked around. On the log next to you sat Jisung, like the piece of the night sky come to earth.

“Better?” he asked casually.

“Y-yeah.”

The two of you sat there silently as your classmates gossiped and ate around you. Occasionally, you saw someone glance your way, then turn back to their friends as if Jisung’s stare repelled them. You’d expected to feel awkward around him, expected to feel some dark aura radiating off him, but it was easy to sit with Jisung. His leather jacket was wonderfully warm, it’s weight around your shoulders oddly comforting, and the faint smell of whatever soap Jisung used caught on the collar made you smile.

“Here,” Jisung said softly, holding out the flask that always hung at his hip. “Have a sip—it’ll warm you up.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m not going to drink, especially since we’re on a school trip,” you hissed.

“It’s just tea, Y/N,” Jisung said, tone affronted. “What did you think I had in here?”

“I- Tea is fine. Thanks.” You took the proffered flask and sipped what was perfectly brewed and sweetened black tea. The hot liquid sliding down your throat to your stomach was a delicious feeling. You returned the flask to Jisung, your fingers brushing as you did so.

The fire crackled, sparks flying up as sticks fell and broke apart. But these were not the only sparks that were flying around that fire. Between you and Jisung there seemed to be a thread of energy along which those other sparks danced, and, unexpectedly, you wanted to follow that thread to its end with the young man beside you.

Every now and then, you glanced at Jisung. And, every now and then, he glanced at you. After five tense minutes of this madness, you finally glanced at each other at the same time and smiled nervously.

“So,” Jisung began, “um…”

“Hmm?”

“May I say something?”

“I- Yeah, sure.”

Jisung took a deep breath, hands twisting in his lap. “Y/N, I have what’s got to be the biggest crush ever on you. And if you don’t return the feelings, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll never mention it again and I’ll make sure to leave you alone or whatever you want,” he said in a rush.

You wrapped Jisung’s jacket closer around yourself and turned slightly on the log to face him. The firelight danced in his eyes, the look in them soft and searching. His lips were parted slightly, as if to say something.

“It’s okay, Jisung,” you murmured, realizing that this was the first time you’d called him ‘Jisung’, at least to his face. “I think— I think I like you, too.”

Jisung’s face lit like the sun that would rise hours later with the dawn, his smile glorious. “Really?” he asked excitedly.

“Mhmm, I do.”

“That’s great,” Jisung breathed, and made to shift closer to you but stopped himself. “Um, so what now?”

“Want to cuddle?” You hardly believed that you’d just said that, but with Jisung’s jacket around you and him sitting so close, you couldn’t help it.

Jisung laughed and held out his arms to you, and you scooted closer to him so that you leaned against his as his arms went around you. After a couple minutes of shifting positions, the two of you settled. You could practically feel Jisung smiling behind you as you rested your head against his shoulder. Like your own, his heartbeat was faster than usual from nerves and excitement, which made you feel quite proud. You’d actually made the cool, seemingly confident bad boy of the school nervous.

Thinking you’d mess with him a little, you turned your face up to his and kissed his jaw. Jisung nearly jumped, which would have deposited both of you squarely on the cold ground, and then looked at you.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

“Won’t know until we try, right?” you replied.

Jisung needed no further prompting and brought his lips to yours, sending a current of warmth along that thread between you. You had to smile because, completely unexpectedly, you liked kissing Jisung. You liked it a lot and would be perfectly happy to continue kissing him all night long, if given the chance.

Drawing back from Jisung, you noticed your classmates staring at you and Jisung, and smirked back at them. Unlike you, they didn’t have a cute boy to kiss and cuddle with. They weren’t the chosen person for the Han Jisung.

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magnoliasinbloom · 3 years

Text

Lie to Me - 20

AO3 :: Previously

Home is not a place, it’s a person.

Claire ruminates the truth of it as she watches Jamie get ready for work while she enjoys a day off. Gone is the tension in his shoulders; the lines around his eyes became more pronounced, but the light in his bright blue eyes is there all the time, as is a ready smile for her.

Leoch Holdings is no more. Cleared of all charges, Jamie had quickly secured employment elsewhere—with Murtagh’s help—at a book publisher. Fortunately, the home they share at the moment was legally Jamie’s, in no way tied to the industry behemoth that had been his uncles’ empire. They are back in Jamie’s fancy flat for the time being, now that Laoghaire is back from America, preparing to testify. But Jamie’s put it up for sale, and for the tidy sum he will get they have plans to relocate to Broch Morda, the small town near Lallybroch.

She wraps her bathrobe tightly against the morning chill, her hand almost instinctively tracing over the scar on her right side. Her recovery had been slow at first. She hadn’t left the flat for a month, bedridden with her injury. Jamie fussed and coddled, and both discovered doctors really made for the worst patients—like Jamie insisting on practically spoon-feeding her, Claire demanding he let her check the bedpan for any possible traces of blood in her urine, until she could hobble to the toilet herself. They are adjusting, they are managing, they are on the mend.

Six months later, and the courts’ verdicts are finally in—Colum and Dougal MacKenzie guilty on an infinite number of counts: extorsion, racketeering, tax evasion, bribery, and not least of all, responsible for Alexander McGregor’s death. Leoch and all other associated corporations had been practically dismantled, and most of the MacKenzie’s co-conspirators sentenced or awaiting trial. Colum and Dougal themselves were being detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure and would face a mandatory life sentence.

Jamie, as a key witness for the prosecution, had spent much of his time at the courthouse for those first few months. As soon as Dr. Hunter had given her a clean bill of health, she had accompanied Jamie to court, offering her steadfast support. It was there that she had finally met the famous Laoghaire, who had greeted her with a hug and a kiss, much to her befuddlement. They had secured an invitation to her and Joseph’s wedding in New York City next summer. Claire finds herself looking forward to it, hoping they will be able to travel. Knowing there would be a next year with Jamie, a future with him… that was more than she had dared to imagine.

The left side of her face quirks into a smile, which Jamie catches in the mirror.

“What is it, Sassenach?”

“Nothing. Just you. Us. All this.” She gestures around them, stroking her side gently. “Sometimes I still can’t believe we made it.”

“We did.” Jamie takes her into his arms. “I am sorrier than I can say for what you went through, mo nighean donn—for what I put ye through.”

“I’d do it all again, for you. Only for you.” She touches her forehead to his, and they stay that way for a few minutes, breathing the same air, listening to each other’s heartbeat. Their hands tangle together, the small but sparkling diamond on Claire’s finger between them.

“Ye willna have to. It’s behind us, and a whole new future before us.” He kisses her forehead. “And when the day shall come that we do part, if my last words are not ‘I love you’ ye’ll ken it was because I didna have time.”

“We have time now.” Claire smiles mischievously. Jamie raises an eyebrow as she pulls him towards their bed.

x-X-x

That night, Jamie watches his future wife as she brushes her hair. This ritual holds endless fascination for him; he observes until he stands and takes the brush from her hands, running it through the curls himself. Claire groans in pleasure, her eyes closing, and he bestows a kiss to the nape of her neck. She shivers, half with cold, half with delight.

“Come here Sassenach, let me warm ye.” The winter night outside is bitter, but the heat of their bodies mingling beneath the covers is irresistible.

Claire lies on her left side and feels him slide behind her. “Jamie… with all the media attention, I worry… what if there’s something still out there, waiting to hurt us?” She knows it’s the old anxiety talking; but she is so blissful, she fears the gods don’t like to see mortals too happy.

Jamie curls his legs behind hers, fitting perfectly like two spoons nestled in a drawer. He traces patterns on her lower back, pushing harder on that spot he knows is starting to pain her these days.

“Hush, mo chridhe, my own—none of that. Dinna be afraid, there’s the two of us now. Let me tell ye in your sleep how much I love you. For there's no so much I can be saying to ye while ye wake, but the same poor words, again and again.” Jamie burrows his nose into her hair. “While ye sleep in my arms, I can say things to ye that would be daft and silly waking, and your dreams will know the truth of them, Claire.”

She is his and he is hers, as they ever would be. The moon outside is a Christmas moon, so large it seems to fill the window. Jamie’s large hand curves over the small swell of Claire’s stomach; the knowledge of their freedom races through their shared blood, their gift to each other.

And the world is all around them, new with possibility.

FIN

- - -

A/N: That’s all she wrote! Thank you very much for joining me on this adventure, for your patience, your support, your kind words... I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did creating it. <3

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #ltm20

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

Text

Request (from this post):

@scarlet-gryphon suggested: Modern pre-3zun AU where for whatever reason, Meng Yao is challenged to do a tough rock climbing wall. Cue the italicized ‘ohs’ from Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue at his flexibility. (also posted to Ao3)

This kind of thing is very much outside of my usual wheelhouse of ideas so thank you so much for the challenge, it was super refreshing! Hope you like it ^_^

Fucking work retreats.

“ ‘It’ll be fun’ he says,” Meng Yao grumbles to himself as he plasters an extremely fake (perhaps slightly manic) smile on his face. “ ‘Lighten up, A-Yao’ he says,” he mocks again, his grin twisting into a mocking sneer for just a split second before he smooths it away again.

The benefit of being wildly unpopular is that no one milling around stops him on his hunt to try to chat, and finally after a few minutes of prowling he finds his prey.

“Nie Huaisang,” he says icily and he has the immense pleasure of seeing the Jiang Corporation heir and his brother look sharply at him over Nie Huaisang’s shoulders in (slightly eerie) synchronicity, both of them looking sufficiently aware of whatever it is they see on his face that promises danger for Nie Huaisang. Of course it’s in their own ways, which means Jiang Wanyin glares first at him and then at Nie Huaisang, and Wei Wuxian’s usual happy grin goes a bit manic as well, eyes glittering as he scents fresh mischief.

“A-Yao, there you are!” Nie Huaisang cries far too cheerfully as he turns, his ever-present fan already fluttering nervously in front of his chest. Why he insists on carrying that thing everywhere he goes Meng Yao doesn’t understand whatsoever, but he’s currently wishing he had the guts to tug it from his hands and snap it right in half.

“Could I speak to you for a moment?”

The fluttering of his fan gets a little faster. “Ahhhh hah, but we’re about to get started!! You know how da-ge is, hit the ground running and all that. Can’t it wait?”

“No,” he says with such a poisonously sweet smile and a faux-innocent little tilt of his head that even Wei Wuxian takes a step back, the brothers leaving their best friend high and dry to face his wrath alone. Sensible of them.

He holds his arm out for Nie Huaisang to take and, with no safe alternative options, the other man reluctantly takes it and lets himself be led away from listening ears.

“Now, A-Yao -”

“When were you planning to inform me that my father’s company would also be present at this retreat?”

“Oh good, you already know! So now the answer doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep, A-Sang. I’m in charge of our company’s hotel assignments. I know exactly where to find you.”

“Aiyah you do not, who in the world stays in their own hotel room during company retreats? Well I guess some people have to, But I definitely don’t. I’ve already found myself better accommodation,” he says breezily, flicking his fan shut to tap him on the forearm a couple of times. “And you’ll lighten up a little if you do too! I heard the Lans are coming~,” he adds, his glance at him out of the corner of his eye far too sly. Meng Yao can’t quite resist glaring at him right back. Nie Huaisang just walked headfirst into dangerous territory, but part of him (a very small part of him) can admire that his sort-of-friend, sort-of-employer is daring enough to tease him when he’s clearly irritated.

“You’re horrendous,” he replies sweetly and Nie Huaisang laughs as he turns them around to head back towards where everyone else is gathered.

“Oh hush, stop glaring at me and go find Xichen-ge, stare at him until you feel better. I’ll bet he’s dressed casuallyyyy~~,” he teases as he snaps his fan open again to flutter it and add to the flirtatious lilt in his tone.

“Lan Zhan!!!!” Wei Wuxian suddenly cries loudly enough to carry over the general chatter and in the next instant he goes flying across the spacious hotel lobby, a blur of black and red as Jiang Wanyin shouts after him for him to stop. Nie Huaisang giggles at his side behind his fan as heads turn to watch Wei Wuxian’s progress to where the Lans have stopped to check in.

“Oh perfect timing, and you won’t even have to waste any time searching! Wei-xiong is so useful, don’t you think?”

Meng Yao says nothing, just glares at Nie Huaisang until the man winks over his fan and carefully extricates himself from where their arms are linked to return to Jiang Wanyin’s side to pat his shoulder as the man fumes. Meng Yao sighs and after a moment he follows in the bemused wake Wei Wuxian had left behind himself on his way to his boyfriend. Though the retreat isn’t being held on any participating company’s actual properties, the Nie Corporation is still technically hosting it so it’s not entirely out of character for him to go and greet the new arrivals.

And if Lan Xichen’s smile when their eyes meet makes his frustration with Nie Huaisang and the presence of his own family melt away like snow in spring, then that’s his own business.

----

A few days into the retreat, Nie Mingjue’s patience is at its limit. He hates these things, he can’t remember just why the hell he let Nie Huaisang talk him into hosting this bullshit, but he can’t change it now. At least the Lans agreed to come - without Lan Xichen here to force him to enjoy himself he really would have become too miserable to bother staying for the whole retreat, he would’ve already packed up and dragged Meng Yao home with him to get back to work. Not that it would take much dragging, most likely. Meng Yao is as much of a workaholic as himself, maybe even more of one (which he hadn’t thought was possible prior to meeting him), and the Jins have been extra insufferable to him on top of that. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if Meng Yao was looking for an easy out of the whole affair.

“Oh dear,” Lan Xichen says softly at his side and Nie Mingjue pulls himself out of his ruminations to glance at him and then look at where he’s focusing on only to sigh as he spots Meng Yao being harassed by his horrible cousin - again.

“How long has that spoiled brat been talking to him this time?” Nie Mingjue growls as he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and flexes his fingers a few times. God he’d like to use that asshole’s face as a punching bag. Mostly because he feels like Meng Yao would appreciate it and Nie Mingjue is maybe slightly too interested in doing things that make Meng Yao get that pleased little smirk on his face. But in his defense it’s also because he’s seen that smirking face far too many times to not want to rearrange it a little. If it happens to be because he’s bothering Meng Yao then that’s the perfect excuse, just two birds with one stone.

“About a minute, but it seems that’s long enough to behave unpleasantly,” Lan Xichen sighs, crossing his arms over his chest in a rare show of open disapproval, his lips turned down in an uncharacteristic frown. “What could he and his friends possibly have to bother him about now?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. I’m gonna beat the shit out of him, I’m tired of this.”

“Mingjue!” Lan Xichen cautions with a sudden grip on his arm. “Please, don’t embarrass A-Yao and make a scene, it won’t help him.”

“Well what do you want me to do?! We can’t just leave him over there.”

“Ah...I believe we are not his only knights in shining armor,” Lan Xichen says, suddenly sounding amused and Nie Mingjue follows his gaze again to see Wei Wuxian, of all people, shoving his way through the crowd looking positively gleeful at the sign of trouble brewing, Lan Wangji trailing along behind him as serenely as ever. Such a weird pair, in his opinion. And of course, because it’s Wei Wuxian, his voice carries perfectly over the general hubbub of people chatting and the clink of carabiners from the people currently scaling the rock wall they’re all supposed to be taking turns climbing.

“Meng Yao!” Wei Wuxian cries and Nie Mingjue can see the man in question’s shoulders tighten all the way from here as Wei Wuxian throws his arm around them to lounge against him. “Are you holding back to spare the rest of us from having to watch you kick our asses without breaking a sweat? Oh. Hey asswipe.”

“Wei Wuxian!”

Nie Mingjue snickers just a little at the scandalized tone in Jin Zixun’s voice, and even Lan Xichen chuckles softly next to him.

“Yeah? Hi uh...hm. Can’t say I remember your name, Jin something-or-other, right? No, don’t tell me, it doesn’t matter and I want to keep thinking your name is ‘Asswipe’.”

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“Problem? I don’t have one. What’s yours?”

Lan Wangji says something then, far too low to carry the way Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixun’s voices do, but whatever it is makes Wei Wuxian laugh and turn to Meng Yao. He lets go of him to turn and face Meng Yao fully, putting his back to Jin Zixun, but whatever he says next is lost in the noise of someone reaching the top of the wall and hitting the buzzer.

“Are you sure we should trust whatever Wei Wuxian just did to solve this?” Nie Mingjue grumbles, already knowing what his best friend’s answer will be.

“He’s a good man,” Lan Xichen replies, because of course he does. “I trust him wholeheartedly, and it’s a good solution don’t you think? Everyone expects him to make a scene anyway, A-Yao need not be embarrassed about being rescued if it’s him.”

“Are we sure he even fixed whatever’s going on?” Nie Mingjue watches Meng Yao square his shoulders and step up to take a spot next to one of the employees at the rock wall and he can’t help but frown, still concerned. “A-Yao didn’t want to participate.”

But then he’s quickly strapped into a harness around his hips and thighs and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just….watch...for a second...

Lan Xichen’s slightly choked noise at his side is all the confirmation he needs that they’re in agreement.

Nie Mingjue tears his eyes away from Meng Yao just long enough to see that he’s lined up with the rest of the Jin employees that are in attendance and he blinks as he realizes what’s going on.

“This is Wei Wuxian’s solution?” he snaps. “To put A-Yao up against his stupid cousin and his cronies? He’s supposed to get A-Yao away from them!”

“Patience, Mingjue, trust Wei Wuxian’s methods, he knows what he’s doing,” Lan Xichen soothes, returning his hand to his arm though he still hasn’t looked away from Meng Yao as the man listens to the instructions and allows himself to be fitted with a rope attached to the front of the harness.

“You just like seeing A-Yao tied up.”

“Mm. Multiple things can be true at once.”

Nie Mingjue snorts at that but shakes his head in defeat and goes back to watching, staying still as Lan Xichen subtly steps closer to him and tucks his hand into the crook of his elbow as the start timer counts down from five.

Whatever Nie Mingjue was expecting before the competition started, it certainly wasn’t what ends up happening as soon as the buzzer sounds.

His eyes go wide as he watches Meng Yao instantly take the lead by putting his foot above his head and launching himself a full body-length up the wall while everyone else is still trying to find their first handhold.

“Oh my god,” Lan Xichen breathes at his side and Nie Mingjue is in full agreement. Meng Yao practically flies up the wall, taking the lead by miles simply by virtue of skipping over at least five footholds at a time to get to the highest one he can reach - which is never lower than rib- or shoulder-height.

Nie Mingjue has never seen anything like it and he can’t take his eyes off him. He doesn’t even hesitate, he just makes these impossible jumps and pulls until he smacks the buzzer at the top and turns to sit on the top of the wall, feet dangling and the dimples in his cheeks visible even from this distance as he grins down at the others still halfway down the rest of the wall.

“Oh shit,” it’s Nie Mingjue’s turn to exclaim as Meng Yao wiggles his fingers in a little wave while Jin Zixun slips and falls a few feet before tension gets applied to his rope, leaving him dangling in front of the hardest course on the wall like a sack of turnips.

“That was..oh my.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So flexible,” Nie Huaisang pipes up suddenly from his other side and Nie Mingjue doesn’t yelp but he comes close.

“Huaisang!!”

“Hi da-ge, er-ge. Enjoying the view? It’s very scenic.”

“Don’t be crude, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen chastises without any heat and Nie Huaisang snorts.

“I’m not the one checking out Meng Yao’s ass like a couple of creeps. He’ll want a drink this evening, by the way - he hates dealing with his family.” Nie Huaisang leans forward to look up pointedly first at him and then at Lan Xichen next to him. “Maybe even two drinks.”

“I can feel you winking at me, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen says with a smirk without taking his eyes off Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang laughs behind his fan.

“Good, then we’re on the same page! Does this mean I should tell Wei-xiong not to talk him into going up there again or do you need more convincing?”

Nie Mingjue coughs at that and does his best to glare. “No one said he has to stop. If he wants to go again to prove his point to that smarmy jackass cousin of his then who are we to stop him?”

“Subtle, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang drawls. He stretches his arms above his head with a little sigh before he steps away to look at them over his shoulder with a sly wink. “As many times as he’s willing to go, then? Noted, I’ll let Wei-xiong know right away,” he teases and then he’s off with a laugh.

“Well. That was..”

“We’re definitely buying him drinks tonight, right?” Nie Mingjue checks and Lan Xichen’s responding hum is perfectly easy to interpret as they watch Meng Yao rappel down the wall and set up to go again. “Good.”

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #Nie Mingjue #Lan Xichen #Meng Yao #modern AU #prompt fill #I hope this is coherent lol #basically act like this 'work retreat' is like a discussion conference #and Jin Zixun was being his usual dick self and boasting that he was better than everybody at everything or whatever #and just being generally shitty so NHS went to grab WWX who was like ohhh yES LET'S GET THIS FOOL

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btsslowburnfic · 3 years

Text

The Arrangement Ch. 19

Story summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi

Chapter Summary: After the photoshoot you and Yoongi decompress

Previous Chapter here AN: SO FLUFFY UGH

You slunk back to the elevator and just stood there for a second. What a weird day. You pulled out your phone to double check your work schedule and saw a message from Yoongi.

YG: I ordered pizza.

You smiled.

YN: Oh yeah? Did you order enough to share?

YG: *Eyeroll*

YN: :D Where is this food? Apartment? Studio?

YG: Apartment. Photoshoots wear me out.

You pushed the button for the 18th floor. Other people got on and off as you made your way there; it was the end of the work day for most of the hourly staff. You finally arrived at your stop and headed left.

You opened the door and took off your shoes, immediately noticing the delicious odor of bread and hot cheese filling the air. You had been running around all day and just now realized, other than a few carrots, you hadn't eaten today.

"Oh my God thank you so much." You declared as you walked into the kitchen. You eyed the box sitting on the counter and looked around for Yoongi. “Helllooooooo?”

“Good. I’m starving.” You saw him rise up like a reanimated corpse from the couch.

“You didn’t have to wait on me.” You reprimanded, even though you thought it was incredibly thoughtful. Yoongi just shrugged and walked into the kitchen.

You opened the box and handed him a plate.

“I have no idea if you ‘ll like this.” He said as he took some pieces.

“I like food. My favorite food is the food in front of me.” You took the plate over to the table, going back for some water.

Yoongi followed suit, quieter than normal.

“You ok?” You asked.

“Yeah, just tired. Photoshoots take so much more energy.” He collapsed down into the chair.

The air was filled for silence for several minutes as the two of you stuffed your faces. Finally, you worked up the nerve to ask, “Sooooooo…...did you know Bongcha was asking you out or are you oblivious?”

Yoongi looked up, shaking the bangs out of his face. “I knew. But what should I say to her? "No I don’t want to go out with you" and ruin her day? Upset her at work? It would make things awkward for both of us. Nah. Just request another stylist for a few months.”

You pursed your lips together in thought. “Why not just date her though? She’s cute. You guys get along. Why go through this whole elaborate contract scenario?” You gestured to yourself.

Yoongi sighed. Ugh he had been dreading you asking him about the contract. Things had been going so normal. He thought, stupidly, maybe he could just never think about it again. Of course with Namjoon and BPD up his ass he knew that was unlikely. He realized he had been quiet for too long. “Look, If I actually dated someone I worked with and then it didn't work out, imagine the fallout. The scandal. The wasted time. Plus then I'd have to go on dates and stuff. I'm busy.”

You rolled your eyes "We went to a diner the other night. And the grocery store."

Yoongi blinked his eyes and stuffed more food in his mouth. “Not dates.”

You scowled. "You spent all Sunday driving a van and putting up with my family'

Yoongi chewed, taking as much time as possible to think of a response. “Yeah but I did that because I wanted to."

You rolled your eyes, “You're a weirdo "

"Says the girl who signed a contract to marry a guy she didn't know. And who doesn’t eat their pizza crust. Are you 5 years old?"

"Crust is gross. Anyways. I'm a very good judge of character, I will have you know." You pouted at having been admonished over your crust preferences.

"That's true. You could tell Namjoon was an asshole within 30 seconds I bet." He jested.

"Haha yeah. I could tell he was rich and full of himself by his demeanor and then when he opened his mouth, he confirmed the asshole part. And, I knew Alice was awesome within like 2 seconds.”

Yoongi pushed his plate over a bit and interlaced his fingers. Resting his chin on them, he asked, “OK. So what was your first impression of me?”

You laughed as you recalled sprinting in your work clothes. “That you were busy. Very busy. And a little bit short on patience, but I thought that's because you were in a hurry.”

“Sounds about right.” He took a sip of his water.

“The second time I met you, you were putting on an act for Namjoon. Still not sure why... " You eyed him suspiciously. “You guys have a fucked up dynamic "

"You are right all-around there. Cheers." He lifted his glass in your direction."You did a great job today."

You scoffed, "I literally just pointed at things and handed you stuff.”

“Hey I've been to shoots before, you haven't. Today went much smoother than usual. “

“Really?” You rocked back in your seat.

“Yep.” He stood up and extended his hand." Do you want more? "

"Yes please. Thanks again for ordering. I didn't realize how hungry I was til I got home.”

“‘Same.” He took the plates to the kitchen and returned with more food. Sitting them down on the table. He pulled his laptop over and looked over some things as you guys sat in silence for a few minutes. You scrolled through your phone, returning some texts from Jimin and your brother.

"Do you want to go watch something?" he asked, taking you by surprise.

You raised your eyebrows, “You're not going to work?"

"I told you, photoshoots wear me out. I'm done for today."

"Yeah sure," you stood up and grabbed the plates. "I'll clean up the leftovers and get changed. Pick whatever."

You travelled up to the loft area about ten minutes later, much more comfortable in your leggings and oversized sweatshirt.

Yoongi was waiting on the couch, the remote in his hand as he scrolled through the menu. You plopped down on the other end, covering your mouth as you yawned.

“Grab a pillow. You know you’re going to fall asleep.” He said without looking over.

“No I won’t,” You protested through another yawn.

He shot you a look that told you he knew you were full of shit and got up. He returned a minute later, throwing a pillow at the back of your head.

“Hey.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat back down, adjusting himself into a comfortable position.

You grumbled a thank you as you balled the pillow into a couch-compatible shape and leaned up against it. You pulled back for a second. It smelled just like Yoongi. This was his pillow. You looked over, his eyes were still scanning the screen.

“Since you’re going to fall asleep in ten minutes I’m putting on my favorite documentary.” He said matter-of factly.

“I will last more than ten minutes.” You declared. You heard a small snort come out of his mouth as he dimmed the lights and pressed play. You started to watch the movie and tried to pay attention, but your heartbeat was racing. You kept replaying earlier conversations in your head and also smelling the pillow. You felt like a pervert. The man across the couch was completely oblivious. You stared at him for a few seconds and realized that yes, you did like him. Well Shit. You didn’t have too much time to ruminate on this as your eyelids began to grow heavy. Soon you were passed out, just as Yoongi predicted.

Ten minutes into the NBA show he looked over, a knowing smile crept onto his face. You were out.

He took a deep breath. What the fuck was he doing? He tried not to think about it too much. Every time he thought about you and the contract it left him feeling weird. The thought that you were getting paid to like him and to hang out with him, didn’t sit well at all. But he knew there was so much more to it than that. He picked up his notepad and wrote a few lyrics, the movie playing for background noise at this point.

After several minutes he looked at his writing. Satisfied, he stood up and slipped the notebook into a desk. He didn’t think you would snoop, but better safe than sorry. He looked back at the couch and smirked. He thought it was hilarious you thought you would stay awake when he knew better. He went over to the stuffed animal line and pulled out a Snorlax. Appropriate, he thought as he sat it down on top of your side. He snapped a picture. Sweet revenge. Stretching, he decided to head to bed himself; only slightly lamenting that he had given you his favorite pillow and now he would have to use the flatter one. NEXT CHAPTER

@lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny @livelyjay @niniita-ah @bobbyboops @honeysunandsoil @deathkat657 @min-yus @or-worse-expelled7

#bts fic #BTS suga #bts suga x you #bts suga x reader #bts yoongi x reader #bts yoongi #suga x you #suga x reader #suga x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #bts writing #bts scenarios #bts imagines

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madaras-housewife · 4 years

Text

Nighthawk

I’ve had this idea in my head for like 2 days and I wanted to put it on paper really badly so I wrote it on a whim. It’s poorly edited too so forgive me if there are any grammatical erorrs. 3 am vibes babyyyyy

pairing: Madara Uchiha x reader

length: 1.8k

tw: none

It wouldn’t be too contrived to compare Madara to the weather outside. He was a storm; majestic, grandiose and powerful. And yet, there he slept next to you, in the same bed you had been sharing for a while now. Had it been two years already? Your mind was too foggy to think about something even as simple as that; or maybe the pouring rain was at fault. It was almost too loud for you to hear your own thoughts, but you still heard them, nonetheless.

Somehow, you wished the rain could drown them out, the way you knew your newly planted crops would be soggy by morning. What a shame. Madara was going to be so disappointed after pestering you about planting a garden and having worked so hard on it. He had several skills, ranging from diplomacy to combat, but gardening was not one of them. Nevertheless, he insisted that it would be healthy for your growing family.

Even though your husband was near you, the abrasive feeling of loneliness filled your bones. It was always this way when it stormed, wasn’t it? Especially that night.

You turned your head to the side, squinting your eyes, but the room was too dark to see the clock. Carefully enough, you stood straight so as not to bother your man and rubbed your dry cheek. The thought of sleeping was way past you and, if you weren’t already certain about that, you definitely were when a billowing thunder roared so closely to you, you felt it rock your body with intensity. Before realising it, you recoiled and stubbornly balled your fists.

That night marked five years since Izuna had died. You only met him a few times, before you and Madara had become a couple. It often felt like the Uchiha compound was empty, as if it was missing something. Would it have been odd to say that you were missing someone you barely even knew? That was not quite right. In fact, you knew a great deal about the younger brother from Madara’s stories about their childhood, their squabbles and frequent conflicts regarding war. At one point, it started consuming Izuna’s consciousness, warping it into something dangerous, something that not even his elder brother possessed at the time; desire for conflict.

Whereas you counted years, Madara counted every day, even though he would never tell you that. It was obvious when he called that name in his sleep, almost every night, in a meek, broken voice that sounded nothing like the man you knew. If anything, he sounded like a scared child who wandered alone in the darkness. Even when you hurriedly draped your arms over him and clung onto him, his brows never fully unfurrowed.

Not even when he slept was he at peace.

Without realising, you turned your body to his side of the bed. Madara was sleeping on his back, soundly, as small snores parted his lips. He hated snoring and he swore he would never sleep in that position again, saying that shinobi must have control over themselves at all times. You smiled and promised yourself you wouldn’t mention it when morning came. All you wanted was to bend down to give him a small peck, but instead, you settled for brushing the hair out of his face, caressing his face so gently that you barely touched his skin. Your husband would usually wake up at the smallest touch, since you knew him as a light sleeper, but on that night, he seemed to be more tired than usual. Even in the darkness, you could make out that the creases below his eyes were a tad more prominent than usual. Peace was… exhausting sometimes, to say the least.

A flash of lightning cracked the midnight sky into two, brightening the room enough for you to see that he had a slight frown on his face. Your hand pressed itself against his forehead until you felt the tension slowly disperse. Now he looked rather calm and stress-free, as if a burden had been lifted from him. He seemed to have many of those these days and they piled up, almost forming a wall between the two of you. Deep within your heart, you wondered if that wall would become impenetrable, if you wouldn’t be able to reach him anymore.

You truly wished Izuna had been there instead. Though it was nothing more than an oversimplified solution to the numerous problems you and Madara faced(when, in fact, it wouldn’t even be that anymore, now that his little brother had been gone for so long), you liked to think that he could make your husband happy, happier than you made him. The comparison felt silly, unfair and unwarranted. You even felt selfish for thinking such a thing. Despite rarely ever showing it, his stares had grown a little fonder and his hugs a bit tighter since he received the news, and it was your candle of hope during the grim days, when he chose solidarity over comfort, working all night long, going on missions only to separate himself from the village and the clan which had caused him so much pain.

There would soon be another source of joy in his life and you wondered if you were up to the task. It was something that you had been ruminating over for months, but couldn’t quite put into words until now, though not exactly sure why. Maybe the chaotic life of inhabiting a shinobi clan had made it more difficult for you to truly look at yourself, to see what was inside. So instead, you chose to lash out at your husband again and again, until your anger poisoned him and all the patience he mustered for both of your sakes. But you were blessed with a headstrong man, who, in all that vast sea of insecurities and responsibilities, rarely ever mistreated your heart. Especially lately, when Madara had been sharing the same fears as you did.

On the other hand, Madara didn’t take out his anger on you the way you did. He lets all his fury simmer, lets all his misgivings haunt him, until everything builds up to a tempestuous wrath which befalls him out of thin air. That was how he was taught, and it was one of the few lessons from his father, Tajima, which he didn’t reject. It was what his father had left him with, besides agonizing memories of war. However, when his last sibling passed away, it seemed as if all of Izuna’s own burdens were passed down, leaving him with double, maybe even triple the cargo(or maybe, you couldn’t really quantify suffering in mere numbers, the same way you couldn’t with words).

Madara’s shoulders were heavier. You felt it every day, when you gave him the regular massage in the evening. What was it that you promised him on your wedding day? (It was hard to remember, now that so much had happened.) You promised him you would always be his pillar, so that he wouldn’t tumble when it was too dim to see what was ahead of him, (in reality, no one could ever see what was ahead of them; one can only row the boat facing backwards), but marriage wasn’t as simple as that. If love is controlling, then wedlock is a dictator. It demands a home, sex, patience, shared meals, babies, empathy and eternity.

Another thunder roared mercilessly, making the earth quake below you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself, cradling your stomach. The disagreements had become too frequent, the scowls too obstinate and the distance between you too lengthy. How long would it be until you completely failed, until you wouldn’t be an adequate wife for Madara Uchiha anymore? Until you weren’t fit to carry his children?

The rain now hammered the ground, like a deafening fusillade of bullets and, in a moment of insanity, you thought it was taunting you, mocking you. It was so loud that you didn’t even hear the raspy groan next to you, until you felt a hand on your forearm.

“Can’t rest?”. His dozy voice seemed to have pulled you out of your disquiet pitfall of thoughts. Without facing him, you shook your head. The lump in your throat was too thick to even open your mouth.

Your husband then grabbed your shoulder and gently pulled you down, until your back hit the now-cold sheets. For a split second, you glanced at his face and noticed that his half-lidded eyes were locked on your belly, but as soon as he felt you looking at him, he stared back. When Madara noticed your pursed lips and glimmering eyes, he sluggishly crawled closer to you, turning you on your side until his chest was pressed against your back. Wrapping his arm around you, you heard him inhaling deeply into your messy hair.

You eased into your man’s embrace. “Did I wake you up?”

“No. Now come sleep.”, Madara said.

You meekly nodded, pushing yourself against his warm body, the worries gradually dissolving into nothing more than what looked like particles of dust, ready to be washed away by the rain. But when he didn’t hear you reply, he placed a deep kiss on your soft spot, the crevasse between your neck and shoulder.

“You’re going to be a great mother, you know. I love you.”

Could he have read your mind? You didn’t know, but you also didn’t care about the answer. You were at home, exactly where you needed to be, with the person you needed. In that moment, you realised that Madara was going to be a great father, too.

“I love you too.”

Your husband always knew the right words to say; it was as if he could hear you even when you didn’t speak, mainly when you didn’t even want to. It might be that he just understood you that well. After all, he had a knack for reading people. Sometimes you would curse that talent of his, but it was in rare moments such as those when you were infinitely thankful for it, for it all.

It wouldn’t be too contrived to compare Madara to a storm. He was a majestic thunder in the sky, capricious, striking fear and admiration into your heart; a grandiose ocean which didn’t fall from the sky, but was driven, torrential, carving mountains and earth to his own pleasure, omniscient, poised; the powerful wind, howling loudly, as if yearning for a melody to sing his tune, bending trees and tearing houses in his way, almost seeking to outrun everyone else, until he felt forlorn. The floods were promised, the might of nature had already been unleashed, but there would be sunshine and warmth by morning.

#madara uchiha #madara uchiha x reader #madara one shot #naruto #naruto imagines #founders era #konoha #tobirama senju #hashirama senju #madara

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kurlyfrasier · 3 years

Text

Terrified: Part 7

Raph x Reader

Synopsis: Raph saves you from ruffians one night in an alley after watching out for you for weeks without you knowing. Which leads you to getting to know the guys and becoming part of the family. But Raph keeps a distance and you don’t understand why.

Word Count: 2043

Warnings: Sadness

A/N: At this point I believe I’ve been sucked into a bitter black hole, never to return. @thebiggestnaturaldisaster I’m really need to stop saying this is the last chapter, because once again, there is more to come! @emeraldgirltmnt I SEE YOU and I THANK YOU. Thanks to you both, really :) I’m lovin’ the comments, likes, and reblogs! Your love is making me giddy!

I woke up in an unfamiliar room, cardboard boxes littered the ground, a few books scattered on the dresser, and familiar, dirty clothes were piled in a corner. Then I realized; I was in my own room. But how? I had fallen asleep next to Raph. On his bed. With him. I sat up in my bed, flipped the blankets off of myself and stumbled to the closed door. I turned the knob, but it didn’t budge. I pushed and pulled a few times before panic started to set in. Had the guys locked me in? But why? Did they really think I would jeopardize Raph’s health? Was he okay? Did something happen?

A few minutes ticked by. Five. Ten. Thirty, as my panic slowly ebbed into fury. My short, quick breaths turned into deep heaves as it all clicked together.

Leo.

He must have carried me in here before they moved Raph into the lab and then locked me in! Like an animal! Something not worthy of trust!

I seethed, pacing back and forth until I couldn’t stand the silence any longer. I banged on the door, yelling for someone to let me out. It didn’t take long for the culprit himself to appear.

“Y/n.”

“Leo,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “Let me out.”

“I can’t do that,” he almost sounded regretful about it. “You know I can’t.”

“I call bull! Tell me the truth,” I demanded. “Why can’t I go see Raph? I’ll go through all the precautions. I won’t even touch him if you say I can’t. I’ll do-”

“Raph will flip out the moment he lays eyes on you. That’s why,” he said low, like he was trying to stay calm. “He needs to rest and not be stressed in any way when he wakes and if he sees you- well, I’m certain he’ll go on a rampage.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I whimpered, barely keeping my tears at bay. “You me-mean he ha-hates m-me?” My knees buckled and I hit the unforgiving floor- hard, but I didn’t feel the jarring impact. I was numb to all pain by this point. The stress, the anxiety, the worry, the fear that Raph would never wake- It consumed me down to my soul.

“No! Shell no!” Leo banged on the door a few times, grabbing my attention as tears streamed silently down my cheeks. “Raph- he-he- ugh! He cares about you more than anything, that’s all-”

“He does?” I sniveled, unbelieving. I know Raph cared for my safety and did everything he could to keep me from being harmed, but caring about me more than his weights? His sais? His father and brothers? I doubted that. He could barely stand my presence except on movie nights for reasons I would never understand.

“Yeah. Of course he does, Y/n,” Leo cooed through the cold, metal door, cutting through my thoughts. “If he didn’t, then I wouldn’t have locked you in your room.”

“Well,” I dried my wet cheeks, sniffling. “I guess I have lost a little weight.”

“Yeah….” He was so quiet and sounded so unsure- so unlike himself- that I barely heard him through the door. “A little.”

I searched the room for my closet door mirror until I found it laying sideways between the wall and some boxes. I dragged it out, leaning it against the wall. The girl in the reflection barely looked like me. I lost weight, more than a little. Before, I had a few extra pounds. Enough that covered my bony joints and gave me some curves in the right places, along with a small pudge, cushy thighs, and arms that looked stronger than they really were. Now though, I could see those bony protrusions and my pudge was gone, leaving my stomach concave. My pants-held by a belt- swallowed my thighs and my once strong looking arms were sticks. I had become sickly pale, the bags under my eyes held truth to the fact that I hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in weeks. Even my hair had become thin and brittle- mousy.

“Y/n?” I heard Leo call out, door still closed and locked.

I ignored him, now understanding why it would be bad if Raph saw me like this as I sunk onto bed. But I had wanted this, hadn’t I? To keep him from leaving my side. To keep him from going topside again. To keep him safe.

Still, I hoped it would be enough.

“Y/n?” Leo peeked his head in the door, looking concerned. “I’ll keep you updated on everything, okay? And-”

“Don’t tell him about- about-” I started, a little frantic and unsure of what I was trying to say. What, exactly, did I want to keep from Raph? Leo let me ruminate in silence. “Everything,” I breathed out, staring down at my skeletal hands in my lap.

“Everything?” He stepped into my room.

“Yeah,” I nodded, unwilling to meet his gaze. “About moving in, my job, my sleeping habits- everything.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure we don’t tell him anything. In the meantime, though, how about I get you something to eat?”

“Sure,” I mumbled, lying down. “You sure I have to stay locked in here?”

“Yeah,” regret tinged his tone once more. “I’m sorry. I don’t want Raph barging in when he’s first able to.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been three days since Raph woke up and he had yet to hear even a peep out of you. Donnie had expanded his and Mikey’s plastic quarantined room to cover half his lab. Enough so Raph could walk around a little now that his strength was coming back. Granted, he could only walk a few laps before his breathing got heavy, but every day a bit of his strength was coming back- at mutant speed- and he was more than thankful. If only a certain little lady would come to visit, then everything would be going perfect.

The first couple of days he thought maybe you were at work when he was awake or maybe his brothers hadn’t told you that you could visit yet. But it was close to the end of day three as he got up again to walk a few laps and you had yet to show. His patience was growing thin. It was like pulling teeth to get Mikey to even mention your name.

“Where is she?” He grumbled before glaring at his youngest brother across the room. Donnie had brought in one of his extra monitors and Mikey’s game system for entertainment. Raph got bored of it real fast, but that was okay with him because he needed to focus on getting his strength back so he could hunt you down- make sure you were unharmed and well. He had to see you with his own eyes. He was starting to think something had to be wrong or that you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore with the way all his brothers were skirting around the subject.

“At least tell me she’s not injured,” he shouted at Mikey.

“Who?” He asked, acting dumb.

“You know who, Numbskull,” Raph marched in Mikey’s direction, growling. “Y/n.”

Raph noticed his brother flinch before he answered. “She’s fine, bro. Donnie’s just worried some kinda human bacteria mi-”

“I know what Donnie said!” Raph growled intimidatingly, grabbing his brother by the shell, forcing him to pay attention. “But the way ev’ryone’s been actin’ ya’d think she died or somethin’.”

“Look, Raph,” Mikey held his hands up in surrender, voice shaky with fear. “It’s not my fault, okay? I was told not to say anyth-”

“What are ya talkin’ about!” Raph roared in his face, the commotion had his other brothers slamming the lab door open.

“What’s going on?” Leo demanded, using the tone that his brothers knew not to deny.

Raph obliged all too willingly as he shoved his youngest brother away, knocking him off balance. “Mikey here says tha’ he’s not suppose’ ta be tellin’ me somethin’.”

“Oh,” eerie silence reigned over the room.

“It’s not cos of the bacteria thing, is it? That’s not why she hasn’ been ta visit,” Raph filled the silence, his voice confident.

“No,” Donnie replied in defeat. Raph saw Leo’s head snap to their brother, even through the thick plastic he knew all too well the daggers Donnie received.

“Tell me!” Raph boomed, wishing he had a table to flip over before continuing in his most menacing voice. “Or I’m gonna rip this plastic wall ta shreds and find her. Even if I have ta rip New York apart brick by brick.”

“I’ll tell you, Raph,” Leo was quick to acquiesce. “Just, please, don’t freak out.”

“I won’t freak out.”

“You say that now, but you haven’t see her-”

“Donnie!” Leo cut off his brother from saying more. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” Donnie mumbled, shuffling his feet.

“I’m waiting,” Raph stated impatiently.

“She doesn’t look like how you remember, brother.”

“Whaddya mean? Who hurt her? I’m gonna kill the-”

“Nobody hurt her, okay?” Leo extolled quickly and waited until Raph grunted in understanding. “Just listen until I’m done and don’t freak out.”

Another grunt. Leo sighed, wishing he had more time to get your weight back up, but you hadn’t been eating as much as he would have liked since the transplant. Barely anything at all, really. So, he was forced to break the promise he made to you that day and spilled everything. How you cried- inconsolable- when you heard the news of his injuries. That they had to pry you away from his side when they bathed him. How you didn’t sleep more than a few hours a night, if that. That you were barely eating and that each of them had caught you, at least once, retching the food back up. About your job, losing your apartment, moving into the lair- everything. His brothers stayed silent as Leo spoke, not once interrupting. It was unnerving, to say the least, to see Mikey, normally so full of life, curl in on himself, to see the faraway look in his eyes as he remembered it all.

Raph didn’t want to believe a word of anything his brother said, but the more he spoke, the more he knew Leo wouldn’t lie to him about someone he cared about. Especially when it came to you. His heart grew heavier with every passing word as his fists clenched tighter and tighter.

This was his fault. If only he had seen that stupid blade. Then you’d be happy. Then he would have already told you how he feels about you- that you’re his everything. That without you, life was dark and meaningless. Maybe you two would be together. Maybe you and him would be on a rooftop somewhere, looking out at the city lights after eating a midnight picnic he set up for a date. Maybe he would be holding you tight instead of being stuck in quarantine with his ugly mug of a brother.

“It’s like, without you, she didn’t wanna live,” Leo’s somber words cut through his self-deprecating thoughts as he finished the heart-wrenching tale. “She became this….empty shell. Void of any cares unless it came to you.”

“She-” Raph swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe what he was about to ask. “She hasn’t hurt ‘erself, has she?”

“No,” Leo was quick to reassure. “We were getting worried she might, though. So we took precautions.”

“Good,” he grunted out, thankful his family kept you as safe as they could.

“She really cares about you, Raph,” Donnie spoke softly, reverently.

Those words filled him with hope. Even as Raph told himself you probably would’ve been the same way had any of them been in his place. But he wanted to believe that he was special. That he was the only one you would wither away for.

For now though, he would wait to see you. He needed to process everything Leo told him and be certain he could control his reaction when he first saw you again. He refused to lose it when he saw you again. Refused to lose control. He didn't want to scare you away before he had you in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 8

#tmnt #raph #fanfic #tmnt fanfic #raph x reader #my writing #sad #hopeful #this is never gonna end #sucked into a black hole #leo #donnie #mikey #splinter #this has gotten way outta hand

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kkemtal · 3 years

Text

Risk and Benefit: Where Was I For You Not To Mind My Own Business Here

September 1, 2021

The peak of my red tide has got to be the cause of why my mind goes intangled and triggered a growing deeply sown frustation throughout this whole day. I might second my over intake of caffeinated beverages today to be part of the major blame too. This has conjured images of the things I really want to do and enjoy. In the unprecedented world we're currently caught on, with my reluctance, I am jeopardized by having second thoughts on weighing out the risks and benefits on pushing what I desire to do as part of my self-love - gym, solo travels, driving classes. From these planted frustrations unveils what rolls out at the end of today.

Throughout the day, just out of the blue, while waiting for my appointment at the hospital, I decided to meet with someone who works at the coffeeshop. It's just a walk mile distance. I had a fine moment of transient socializing with 'them' while jumbling with my client calls and a few mail reports. As always, on how consistently thoughtful and welcoming they were, they treated me with my favorite coffee drink along with vegetarian salad and blueberry cheesecake. Honestly, I felt an immense gratitude on my every visit there as I thought they and along others associated with me are angels in my life based on their gestures imbued of positive energies. Along with our conversation, it was just me being accosted of how I was doing. I was expressing on wanting to unwind on local travels and beaches as a solo traveller or hoping to be adopted by any willing adventure seeking cliques. As an open opportunity for me to explore and along the way make new friends which I know how crucial this is at my age.

From suggesting cool beaches and tourist spots into harboring mixed emotions of frustration and dreading over you as they asked me how am I with you. They kinda felt dubious on our non-label or lowkey so to speak kind of relationship. They kinda felt a pity on me as they knew how expressive I was on assuring you that I still have feelings for you. They adamantly advised me not to take this martyrdom too long while you're at abroad as they had a gut feeling you might possibly met someone more special. Since, we haven't spoken yet for almost two months right after you left me on seenzone last July 20, 2021, I believe? You were at the van on your way home from whatever was your part-time job related errands at night. As an overthinker, I have already thought about that as one of the future major possibilities for another painful heartbreak in this cusp of adulthood. Most likely the reason to be would be you finding yourself falling in love more in there and choose to live permanently there and restart a new life chapter. I sensed it's never gonna be as traumatazing as my last toxic ex-boyfriend. But, a somewhat liberating yet a very painful and great lesson in love to be embedded from.

Right now, honestly, I'm crying here at my room because I'm overthinking that maybe our depth of love for one another since then was we misinterpreted in some way on confronting what's so special and rare we had or we took it differently by meaning. Maybe, on your side, this is just a fleeting rollercoaster moment, a phase you'll take what we had a special connection for granted. From my side, I know I prayed for this to have it with you during college which right now I yearned for something greater between us and that has left me feeling one-sided with you. Maybe, I mistook what you've felt for me as something greater and beyond just purely a crush. Since you've got no father figure and are a single child, maybe you loved me more as a sibling with no romantic/intimate attachment, perhaps. I don't know, I feel kinda guilty, confused and hurt with these self-inflicting thoughts. I have a hunch that could be the reason on your phases of denial flickering out. At the same time, I'm sulking to the thought of you being taken over by your selfishness and pride or your own demon as you mentioned then. Maybe you might forget me and along with your closest loved ones here who are missing you. I know you just have to figure things out for yourself and come up with some thoughtfulness and considerations whilst exploring on your dream land which I'm so happy for you that you've made it given the global situation.

Being so emotional right now and incessantly crying, fuck. Of course, I have thought about these possibilities on being on your shoes because I want to save myself from being too idealistic in love and shift my perception into what is realistic. I have considered every factor amidst this pandemic while being patient with you without waiting, I don't know if that makes any sense. The pain caused from these thoughts is something I should embrace as a cure of a future heartbreak. I don't want to disturb you although I want to besides on how much I miss you so much and wondering about you. But, truly the main reason is I know you have received more than enough of my assurance that you'll always count on me based on the poems, songs, letters and most especially that birthday presentation I sent during the lockdown period.

Apart from that, I will just let you be. Just like that significant gist from the film Ruby Sparks, I don't want to control or try to change you out of frustration to stay in line what favorable consequences I'd like to project through you in choosing me. Teary-eyed me painfully sees this as a challenge on what's meant for me will find its way back to me on the right time granted by the Universe. Done right out naturally. Regardless, the balance of negative and positive opinions I gathered from others, I'm still gonna be on flow and patience with you. Wholeheartedly, no matter what, I'll always be thankful for how long I take this too far on reaching you amidst the uproar of doubts and approvals, cheers and jeers from the crowd on how our relationship unfolds. Despite, I felt I am silenced onto holding with this, anchoring with hope though I'm drowning in despair. Because, I swear to God, what we have is so unimaginably rare that I couldn't find this kind of special connection with a gazillion of people I met who just come and go. I kept searching for you to anyone who has been enamored by me or anyone at our age group connected with me both in and out of my professional field. At this far reaching point, you are beyond comparable. No one is anywhere near significantly special as you - the fear of losing and the risk of temporary place in my life serving as what figure of platitude.

Tonight, I saw a post introducing one of the locally known DJs residing from the middle region of our country who's in a long-term 6 year relationship with one of the Miss Universe candidates from the aformentioned region competing against other beauty pageants for the globally crown reigning competition. As I viewed the couple's adorable pictures and appreciating how beautiful they are, I cried asking God how I wish to be genuinely happy by having this kind of exact inspiring and loving relationship with open acceptance and no room of denials coupled with exuberance and blessings from both parties and the public with no clouded judgements and be perceived as subject to love is beyond what's intangible. This. I felt envious. I know this overblowing trail of messed up rumination will pass but come in lighter degrees from inexplicably thinking about you past work hours until I hit the hay.

Right now, I only hope and ask the Universe for you to be safe at all aspects while chiselling in becoming the better version of yourself by weeding out the realized toxic traits you figured from yourself based on your encounters from living with your abroad ambitions. Hoping you will have more strength and energy to take care of yourself and tread against whatever plummets you down in this new journey as the world has been hard enough. As you say, happiness is such a luxury.

- kkemtal

#kkemtal #Hope #Love #Desire #Pray #Adulthood #Diary #Gratitude

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saidelia-draconis · 4 years

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Word drabble prompt: Sacrifice

Sitting streetside at the quiet café Saidelia often liked to spend her mornings, she was greeted by the aging woman who smiled warmly, steaming pitcher in hand as she poured the paladin a hot cup. Behind a frame of wispy blonde hair, her eyes met the paladin’s. A warm, glowing smile painted her thin lips, pulling the wrinkles of her mouth tight. Saidelia smiled back in her typical, muted fashion.

“Good morning, Saidelia. Hadn’t seen you lately. I was starting to worry.”

“Thank you, Maria. How did you get my order out so fast?”

The woman smiled, a lighthearted laugh slowly ringing from her as she passed Saidelia her coffee and a light, vaguely fruit-smelling pastry. She sat down, procuring a mug from her apron. She poured herself a cup as she perched at the edge of the wooden chair, carefully doling out milk into her own coffee, leaving it in the middle of the table, knowing Saidelia would pass it by.

“Well. I wouldn’t say your order is complicated. Coffee and a pastry. You show up just about the same time every day. You’re very... Regimented. Or if you don’t show, I have a cup and pass the rest to the kitchen boys.”

“Hmm. Sorry to disappoint them. I wasn’t aware I had such a schedule. You really know when I show up?”

“My husband sets his watch by it. Funny, I had thought you did it on purpose.”

“Oh, dear. And what does he set it by on the days I don’t show up?”

“I’m not sure it matters. Poor man can’t keep time for his life. Odd quality in a baker.”

Saidelia snickered as she took another sip of her coffee, nodding as she thought about her interaction with the little café. She seemed slightly concerned. Predictable. On a Friday, her day from here was already planned into the late evening. She frowned. Was she boring? The awkward silence between the two hung long enough for the woman to notice, finally speaking up.

“Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know. That’s not what I meant. Yes, I’m fine. But do you mind if I ask... Am I boring?”

“Boring? Saidelia, I hardly know you. Hard to tell from your breakfast order. Half the city starts with coffee and a sweet.”

“Well, maybe. But I was just thinking that I do pretty much the same thing, in the exact order every week. And from what you said, apparently the same time.”

Maria thought for a moment, her eyes roaming over Saidelia as she took a sip of her coffee. She crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair, an inquisitive look lingering on her face. Finally, she sat back up, placing the nearly-empty cup on her table to refill.

“Well... You certainly don’t dress like anyone boring. Though I’m not sure what makes you wear armor to a café. Perhaps you get your internal clock from your time in the service? What’d you do?”

Saidelia scowled slightly. She had been coming to the same café on and off for over a year. Somehow she hadn’t managed to share anything more than her name. Her tongue slid across the inside of her cheek as she thought about her answer.

“I was in the Crusade when I was younger. Guess I picked it up there.”

Maria regarded Saidelia from across the table for a few moments, her expression contorting into one of disquiet. She took another sip of her still-hot cup, a scowl on her face when she lowered it to the table.

“Saidelia, forgive me for asking, but you don’t look much like an aged veteran. How old were you when you joined?”

“I want to say somewhere around ten. Why?”

Maria gave pause as her eyes lingered on the paladin. It was hard to imagine the armor-clad woman as a tender young squire. She smiled with a hint of pity, trying to hide her expression with the cup. Saidelia recognized it almost immediately, bristling. While she mentally prepared herself for the kindly woman’s reply.

“That’s awfully young. I’m sorry you had to give up your old life before--”

“It’s fine, really. I was actually the one who had the idea of joining. I wasn’t surrendered, or orphaned, or whatnot. I chose it.”

“Well still. You were still just a girl. That’s such a sacrifice to ask a child to make. Especially for the work you did. You hardly knew your parents. I couldn’t bear the thought of my child--”

“Maria. Please.”

Saidelia’s voice was bold, even commanding. Nevertheless, her expression was much more pained. Having weathered the same, or a similar conversation many a time, her patience was thin, especially before having finished her first cup of coffee for the morning.

“I’m sorry. I understand that you respect my work. I appreciate it. Yes, it was difficult. Yes, it was a lot for a child. Yes, things could have been different. I don’t want to sound ungrateful for your company, but I can’t do this over breakfast.”

The weary paladin sighed, taking another small sip of her acrid coffee before placing it down, gazing over the disheartened woman. Her expression softened slightly as she noticed Maria avoiding her gaze. She felt a pang of guilt. She made an attempt at mending fences, topping off the other woman’s cup.

“I’m... Sorry, Maria. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I wasn’t trying to offend.”

“I... I know. They never are. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve got my own problems to sort out.”

“Saidelia, can I ask you an honest question?”

“I owe you that much. Ask away.”

There was a pregnant pause. Maria ruminated on the question for a few moments as she stirred milk into the fresh coffee. Finally, she gazed back up at Saidelia, drawing in a breath.

“Without waxing poetic on your selflessness again; you were a kid when you left? What made you want to grow up and do what you do?”

The tension hung in the air as Saidelia watched the café owner pensively. She lapsed deep into reflection, her eyes glazing over as she attempted to collate her thoughts. When she finally spoke, there was a warm, almost rosy hint to her tone as she gave her reasoning.

“Well... You mean aside from not exactly loving the home I came from? I don’t know. When I was a kid, I heard a few stories about my grandfather. When my father was sober. Or from the townsfolk had time to put up with some snot-nosed kid. I don’t know if it’s fair to say everyone loved him, but it at least seemed like he changed the lives of those around him for the better. Even halfway across the Eastern Kingdoms. I even still have his old sword and shield. I wanted everyone to remember Saidelia Draconis the same way they remembered General Oreyn. The hero who gave his life helping refugees out of Stormwind after the Dark Portal. I didn’t want to waste away in some stable like my father, reeking of horse shit and rotgut.”

“I... See. How noble of you. And if you don’t mind... Was it worth it? Do you regret any of it?”

Saidelia breathed a long, weighty sigh as she considered the question. Her eyes widened as she mulled it over. Her lips pursed as she failed to contain a rather obvious frown. She lost her focus, drifting into a different place. The friends she had gained, some now lost. The myriad of scenarios she had imagined her life could have ended up. The ways she wished it had ended up. She watched her cup with a dull lidded gaze, staying dormant until Maria uncertainly laid a hand on her gauntlet.

“Saidelia?”

Finally, she spoke, her voice sounding weary and forlorn

“You could fill a book with the regrets I have. But no, I wouldn’t change it. There are more important things than myself. Or my comfort. I’d do it over again if I had to.”

“Thank you, Saidelia. I think I understand. I suppose I’ve taken enough of your time. Breakfast is on me today.”

(I see what you did there @zeehva. Thanks for the ask. Even if I’m multiple weeks late)

#Asks #Prompts #Writing

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years

Text

is a virtue {Brian May} [1/2]

[ And All The Queen’s Men ‘verse ]

Summary: Gizelle wants to set Brian up with one of her friends, a model named Patience Hall, and the guitarist is surprised to find how nervous he is, and how Patience is nothing like he expected.

A/N: PATIENCE PATIENCE PATIENCE MY DEAR LOVE, anyways i adore patience and i need to write more about her. this is part 1, but there is a part 2 coming. @ginghampearlsnsweettea and @prettyboyroger i lov u both to the moon n back

----

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” it’s a Wednesday afternoon, overcast, though that in itself wasn’t really a sign of anything, especially not in the middle of Winter, but still Brian feels a wave of apprehension settle over him when he realises Gizelle is talking to him. The band is waiting for Freddie to show up since he’s late, again , and while Roger’s working on a new drum solo, and John and Veronica perusing a furniture catalogue together, but Brian’s been writing lyrics, perched on his amp.

Gizelle, coffee in one hand, designer handbag in the other, cocks her hip as she waits for Brian to look at her, and comprehend what she’s said, and she watches with amusement as a range of emotions flick across his face.

“You’re not trying to set me up with one of your sisters, are you?” Brian asks, and Gizelle has to bite back a smile as she plays innocent.

“You and Gabrielle get on well, don’t you?” Behind her, John snorts a laugh where he’s clearly eavesdropping, but Brian sighs as though terribly put upon.

“You know that’s not the one I meant.”

“As hilarious as I find the concept of you and ‘Vanna together, unfortunately she’s taken up with some American hair-metal boy, so no, I’m not trying to set you up with one of my sisters.” There’s the faintest twitch of her lips that indicates she’s trying not to smile at the thought, but for Gizelle knowing the sound guys are in the very next room, it’s her equivalent of a full-bellied laugh.

“So go on then, tell me then, who’s the unlucky lady?” Brian asks with only the barest hint of amused self-deprecation. Gizelle gives him a flat stare, the way her perfect eyebrows lower being the only real change in her facial expression, but it’s enough to let him know that she’s disappointed in his negative self-talk.

“She’s a friend of mine,” Gizelle explains, “we met through work.”

“She in a band?” Brain asks, interest piqued, finally putting down his notebook and pushing off from the amp to stand. Gizelle shook her head.

“My other work, Miami and I’s mutual friend is representing her in a contract dispute, and he brought me in to raise her profile and make sure she’d still get work after the dust settles,” Gizelle explained, which only seemed to confuse the guitarist, “even if she wins and gets out of her contract, there’s no guarantee she won’t be blackballed from potential jobs in the future so -”

“So you throw your support behind her and everyone and their dog wants to hire her,” Brian nodded, finally understanding, and Gizelle cracks a smile, “is that why you want me to meet her? Do you want us to hire her?” And there’s confusion in his voice, but it’s Gizelle’s turn to be confused.

“She’s a model; I want you to meet her because I think you’ll like her,” she tells him bluntly, and Brian’s expression lights up as he goes pink around the ears, pleased.

“Are you sure?” He’s trying to play it cool, “not that I don’t trust your judgement, but you did marry Roger .” And they both ignore Roger’s indignant scoff, but Gizelle’s smiling at that, her fond gaze flicking to him over Brian’s shoulder before she looks back to see Brian’s amused expression.

“I promise you’ll like her,” Gizelle assured gently, before offering him her coffee cup to hold, fishing around in her bag for a moment. Pulling out a business card, she hands it over with a flourish, “she knows I’m giving you her number; she’s expecting your call.”

“Oh is she now?” Brian raises his eyebrows, smiling as he exchanges the coffee for the card, taking the time to read it.

Patience Hall in a neat, nondescript typeface, white text against the dark skinned model whose headshot made up the background. On the back, there’s a business and fax number, but beneath those, neatly handwritten, sits a personal telephone number.

“This is her?” Brian’s voice is a little soft, a little awed as he takes in card as a whole; it feels so professional. Looking at the model, at her serious expression and gorgeous dark eyes printed in black and white, he quietly gets a little giddy at the idea of taking her out. When he looks up, meeting Gizelle’s gaze, he thinks she can tell.

“That’s her,” Gizelle nods once, and Brian lets himself smile a little wider.

Brian calls Patience that night, after Freddie finally shows up to rehearsals and the band is polishing the last few songs on their new album before they shut themselves into the studio for a few weeks to record it.

“ Good evening, this is Patience, ” the voice on the other end of the line answers after only two rings, soft and lilting despite the crackle of the phone line. Brian hesitates. “ Hello ?”

“Hello,” he finally finds his voice, “hi, this is Brian May, Gizelle Taylor gave me your number,” as if it could have been any other Gizelle , he’s already mentally berating himself, but he hears her laugh on the other end of the line, kind and relieved.

“ Oh, I’m so glad to hear from you! She told me you’d be calling, but I never expected it to be this soon,” she muses, and Brian grins.

“I can call back in a few days,” he offered, his smile clear in his words, “if this is too fast -” but she cuts him off quickly.

“ No, no! ” She’s quick to say, “ I’m not complaining at all, it’s lovely to hear from you! ”

Patience sounds like she’s smiling, like she’s genuine in her words, and Brian can feel himself flushing. She doesn’t ask him about Queen , and he doesn’t ask about her modeling, instead, they stumble through some small talk before he’s asking her out to dinner.

“Or lunch,’ he follows it up with quickly, “if you’d prefer -”

“ Dinner sounds wonderful ,” she assures, and there’s a moment of silence that hangs in the air between them before he asks, tentatively.

“How’s Friday?”

“ Friday, ” she pauses for a beat, and there’s the rustling of paper, perhaps a calendar, “ Friday’s perfect; does seven work ?”

“Seven sounds great,” he agrees, and she gives him the address of the hotel she’s staying at. The moment after he hangs up, he’s excited, and the moment after that, he’s nervous. He hasn’t really dated anyone since he and Chrissie had split up over a year ago. He’d thrown himself into his music and parenting his children, and making sure the divorce was amicable for the childrens’ sake. He wasn’t a nun by any means, he’d let Freddie take him to nightclubs a few more times than he’d like to admit to, had relieved his Fat Bottomed Girls days during the last tour once or twice, but dating had never been his intention.

So why - why - had he agreed to this?

Because he trusted Gizelle.

The next day, Thursday, he’s a ball of nerves when he walks into rehearsals, and Roger’s wearing a grin that’s all teeth.

“Don’t -” He heads Roger off before the blonde can even open his mouth. Roger’s smile widens. That’s the problem with having known each other for over fifteen years at this point, is that Roger can tell exactly what he’s feeling with just one glance; Roger of all people, should not be granted that privilege, Brain finds himself ruminating.

“You alright, dear?” Freddie asks, interest piqued, early for once, and Brian huffs a sigh.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine -”

“He’s got a date with ‘Zelle’s friend,” Roger crows, and Brian shoots him a filthy look.

“Good on you,” Freddie nods emphatically, walking over and clapping Brian on the shoulder, “she’s got wonderful taste in friends,” and both Roger and John behind him hum in agreement. Brain actually rolls his eyes at them.

“I’m sure she’s lovely, but that’s the problem, I’m… I’m just -” and he gestures to himself awkwardly, making an unflattering face.

“You’re a strapping young lad,” Freddie insists, and while Brian appreciates it, it’s not exactly what he meant.

“She’s going to love you,” the sincerity in Roger’s voice comes as a surprise, and when Brian turns to where he’s sitting on the drum risers, he sees Roger with one foot tucked up on his stool, expression warm and kind, “‘Zelle speaks very highly of Patience, and from what she’s said, you’re going to love her, and as long as you’re, you know, yourself or whatever, I’m sure she’ll love you too.” And he cleared his throat, averting his gaze and breaking the moment of honesty, but Brian was thankful for the pep talk. After a beat, letting the moment settle, Brain sighed deeply.

“Thanks, man,” he said with a half-smile, and Roger grinned back in acknowledgement, “but I don’t even know where to take her to dinner; I haven’t been on a real bloody date since -” and Chrissie’s name catches on his tongue but they all know, and don’t comment about it.

“I think ‘Zelle said she’s vegetarian,” Roger muses, and after a beat, he suggests a restaurant Brian’s only heard of by reputation, right in the middle of the city, telling him that even Gizelle recommended it. That night, he calls, books a private room at the fancy little restaurant, and heaves a nervous sigh the moment he hangs up.

The band has Friday off, so instead he lays about in bed until it’s almost eleven, spends a good few hours pottering around, occasionally gardening, reading a few articles his assistant had sent over a few days ago, and spends the better part of half an hour trying to pick an outfit.

Why had he chosen dinner ? There was no right answer to dressing for dinner! Lunch could be nice slacks and a button down, but dinner meant possibly a jacket, but what if he’s too overdressed? What if he doesn’t wear a jacket but he needs one to get into the restaurant, then he’ll look like a fool, what if --

When he picks Patience up, he’s wearing a well fitted suit that he’d had tailored for an event not too long ago. It’s dark blue and crisp, but he’s forgone a tie, leaving the top few buttons undone, he is a rock and roller, after all. He parks, steps into the hotel lobby, and tells the man at the front desk that he’s here for Patience, and they ring her, quietly letting her know that - and he gets a wide-eyed look from the bellhop, whose voice goes a little uncertain - Brian May is waiting for her.

Patience steps out of the elevator in a midnight blue dress, barely a few shades darker than Brian’s suit, and he’s pretty sure it’s fate. The moment she sees him, she’s smiling, and it’s blinding, all teeth and shining eyes and genuine excitement at seeing him, and Brian’s smiling too as she makes her way towards him, but all thoughts have left his head. She’s stunning in person; willowy and statuesque, the heels on her shoes make her the same height as him, which Brian finds he rather likes as she greets him with a hug and a kiss on either cheek.

“I wasn’t going for speechless,” she says with a soft laugh, and something connects in his brain very suddenly - she’s American , “but I think it’s a rather large compliment coming from you,” and finally Brian’s brain connects with his mouth.

“You look stunning,” and Patience’s answering smile was surprisingly abashed.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she tugged the lapel of his jacket for emphasis, a playful smile on her lips, and gestured for him to lead the way out. As he turns, Patience tucks her arm into his, and leans in for a moment, “we match.” And she sounds so pleased .

“Must be destiny,” Brian hears himself say back, and Patience hums thoughtfully.

“Must be,” she agrees with a smile.

Patience wears her emotions on her sleeve, Brian’s quick to pick up on; she’s direct but never unfairly blunt, and smiles like she’s never known hardship. She’s like sunshine , an interesting counterpoint to Gizelle, who seemed to take months to warm up to the band enough to even smile at them. When Brian asks about her connection to Gizelle, Patience’s smile turns fond.

“I’m very grateful to call her my friend,” she muses, “she’s a lot kinder in person than I was expecting.” And Brian nods with the faintest smile, knowing exactly what she means, but already seeing how this bright and joyful woman was able to so easily win Gizelle over.

They have dinner in the private room of the restaurant, both ordering the garlic and herb grilled eggplant, and when Brian tells a joke, Patience laughs so hard she snorts. It’s adorable .

As the dinner’s winding down, and Brian’s wracking his brains for ways to keep this night going, Patience turns a little nervous herself, fiddling with her napkin, avoiding his gaze.

“I fear I’ve double-booked myself tonight,” she admits, and Brian’s heart sinks at her words, “I have a friend at the Museum of Natural History, and he’d pulled some strings for me to let me in tonight after they’d closed,” she explains, and Brian’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “I mean,” Patience deliberates, looking up at him through her lashes, “unless you’d like to accompany me?” And she sounds hopeful. He’s pretty sure he’s never met anyone so earnest, it’s kind of refreshing.

“I’d- I’d love to,” Brian’s so quick to agree it’s like the words fall from him before is brain even registers what he’s saying; he’d been so worried that she’d just want to leave after dinner, just call it a night, despite how much she’d seemed to be enjoying herself, but here she was, lighting up, explaining how the museum wasn’t far away, easily within walking distance and -

Oh , he finds himself thinking with a gentle smile, she might be perfect .

When they exit the restaurant, however, there’s a blinding flash of light, and then their names being called, someone desperate for their attention. Patience freezes, smile turning still as she grabs Brian’s hand and power walks to the theatre. He realises too late that it’s the paparazzi, and when he turns to tell them to leave them alone, Patience, voice low and insistent, tells him to just leave it.

They make it to the museum in a matter of minutes, hand in hand, and the man who greets them at the gates smiles at them both with a warmth in his eyes, and offers them both a solid handshake.

“So good to see you again, Hall,” he tells Patience, and quickly introduces himself to Brian as Lawrence, and turns on his heel and leads them through the gates, into the museum.

“How do you know each other?” Brian asks, trying to make casual conversation, still holding Patience’s hand.

“He was my tutor in college,” Patience explains easily, and the man nodded in agreement, before adding.

“She’s terribly bright,” Lawrence adds, “in her final year, she helped me with my thesis for my Masters, which, speaking of -” he looks over his shoulder with an inquisitive look, and Patience rolls her eyes.

“I’m getting there, you know I’ve been going through some shit, my Masters is the least of my worries,” she waived him off, and Lawrence made a disapproving tut, but didn’t press her on it.

“Terribly bright,” Lawrence reiterates, “not much of an entomologist, but a fantastic help nonetheless.” At this, Brian turns his amused expression upon Patience, eyebrows raised in question.

“I studied biology,” she explains, though her voice is quiet, as if she’s a little embarrassed by that fact, “I mean, I am studying- am still studying- I’m a biologist?” Though it sounds like a question.

“ Fascinating ,” and he means it with his whole heart when he says it, though she seems to be surprised at his enthusiasm, “I never would have picked that.”

“Most people don’t,” Patience muses with a surprisingly rueful tone, looking around at the museum ground as they approached the front doors. Lawrence graciously let them inside, acting as though he wasn’t listening to their every word.

“I haven’t worked much on my thesis lately,” Brian mentions casually, “have been rather busy over the last few years, it can be so hard to find the time.”

“Masters?” Patience asks, in the exact same carefully casual tone that Brian was using.

“Doctorate,” Brian tells her with an air of humble pride, “astrophysics.” There’s a moment of silence, and when he looks at her, she’s regarding him with a newfound respect.

“Never would have picked that,” she grins a little, parroting his own words back at him. Brian shrugs easily, and gives her hand a squeeze.

“Most people don’t.”

15 notes · View notes

juniperwindsong · 4 years

Text

Necessary Monsters (10/16)

Summary: "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let your first day here be all misery?" "I thought you were a dragonologist now, not a gentleman." "They're not mutually exclusive."

His first week in Romania, Felix had been diligent about scourgifying himself after every shift. But magic, it seemed, had a harder time sluicing off dragon-related filth, and the spell never seemed to catch it all, leaving a distinct outdoors-y smell and a crusty stain about his clothes. More importantly, dirt and grime seemed to be a badge of honour here. Felix quickly discovered only newcomers and theoretical researchers, both regularly mocked by the resident dragonologists, bothered to clean themselves more than once a day. Desperate to fit in, Felix had learned to relax some of his more fastidious habits. Which is why it takes him nearly fifteen minutes of frantic searching to finally locate his long-disused bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion at the bottom of an old trunk.

Grey pre-dawn light meanders across the dingy bathroom mirror as Felix applies liberal amounts of the potion to his hair, refusing to think too deeply about why. He pulls the nicer of his summer work shirts over his head, attempts to charm the worst of the wrinkles out of his trousers, and even spends a few minutes bent over his boots before he's forced to give them up as a lost cause. It would take days to remove all the layers of mud and muck.

Felix stares at his newly groomed reflection, nerves chewing a hole in the lining of his stomach. All he's done is dress himself up for disappointment, he thinks ruthlessly. His best has never been enough to impress Juniper, not for the results he wants, anyway. And he ought not to be attempting to impress her at all. She's coming here with Charlie Weasley, she's made her feelings about Felix clear, and that's all there is to it.

Anxiety wrings the last of Felix's confidence from him like a dishrag. Suddenly the prospect of seeing Juniper arrive with that ridiculous red-head is unbearable, and, in spite of the fact that he's woken at the crack of dawn on his day off specifically to greet Juniper as soon as she arrives, Felix flees the flat.

The sun is just beginning to warm the hard ground as Felix walks, quickly as dignity will allow, down the Reserve's main path toward the modest cul-de-sac of buildings. Better sense commands him not to glance across at the long-abandoned Hospital cottage. He looks anyway. The windows are as dark and disused as they've been all year, but the observation does nothing to settle his writhing nerves. Juniper might be in the main building, the same one he's headed for, receiving instructions from Guivré. The Romanian Reserve Director doesn't believe in staff meetings or long-winded introductions, but Juniper might take it upon herself to explore the building, make friends with the other dragonologists as soon as she can. That's the sort of thing she would do.

Felix's heart is pounding in his ears as he enters the building and nearly sprints through the mercifully-empty halls. He reaches his cramped office without meeting anyone, and sinks into the wobbly chair, panting slightly. There's sweat beading Felix's brow, and a lone strand of dark hair escapes his severe part. He tucks it back into place, and wonders how on Earth he's supposed to work under these conditions.

Perhaps Juniper won't stay at the Reserve long, Felix thinks as he starts on the paperwork mountain Rashbold has left piled on the desk; none of the other healers have. But the wish has no real will behind it. Juniper has never been one to shy away from a challenge. And the little pangs of terror the thought inspires reluctantly confirm to Felix that he still wants Juniper here, in spite of her unwelcome companion.

Taking a long, slow breath Felix forces composure through his limbs. Allowing himself to ruminate on the whole bloody mess is pointless, and sours his stomach. Forgoing enchantment, he fixes his eyes on the typewriter and uses his fingers to depress the keys manually. It's a slow, laborious process, but it keeps his feelings at bay and his mind from wandering. Felix turns the entirety of his attention to typing up Rashbold's report from yesterday, then the one from the day before. He works until his hand hits desk instead of parchment, and he's surprised to find he's already come to the end of the stack.

A low rumble of voices echoes from down the hall, and a quick glance at his pocket watch reveals the morning is almost over. When means, Felix realizes with a lurch, Juniper must be really, truly here. He's just wondering where she might be now when the light from the hall is suddenly blocked by a tall figure in a distinctive hat.

“Rosier? What are you doing here?” asks Grahame from the doorway. “Thought you were off today?”

"I was just catching up on paperwork," Felix says quickly, feeling oddly guilty, as though he were caught doing something forbidden. " We were about to lose the desk under it."

“Yeah, well, you might think about catching up on sleep. You’ve got circles like a coon.”

A year ago, the comparison would have meant nothing to Felix, but he’s spent enough time with the Reserve's resident American to become accustomed to his colourful turns of phrase. He manages a brittle smile.

"I'll think about it."

“How 'bout some coffee then?"

"Oh. Well, if you have some to spare." Felix tries to keep his voice from sounding to eager, though he stands so fast the chair legs rattle.

" 'Course." Grahame pushes off from the doorframe and saunters down the hall to his own slightly larger office, Felix just behind him. "I'm brewing way too much in the morning now, since you took off." He flashes an accusatory look over his shoulder. "Still can't believe you did that. I mean, I know McFusty had everyone riled up about your family for a while, but they'll get bored of it. You didn't have to run and hide."

Grahame nudges open the door of his office, and Felix follows him inside stiffly. This isn't the first time he's had to bite his tongue around Grahame's thoughtless comments. One of the outspoken American's favorite pastimes is voicing observations better kept to himself. Not the sort of person Felix would typically have any patience for, but Grahame has other qualities to make up for his tactlessness; namely, a never-ending supply of strong coffee and a generous nature.

Grahame sets his hat on the desk next to a large thermos, and rummages about in a drawer for a cup.

"I don't get all this bad blood between y'all anyway. I mean, it's not like you're one of those....what do you call 'em? Death speakers? It's-"

"Grahame," interrupts Felix tightly. He keeps his eyes fixed on the thermos of coffee, praying to it for patience. "Drop it. Please." In spite of his best effort, the words come out far too frosty to be considered polite. But rudeness runs off the American like rain from the rim of his hat. Grahame merely shakes his head and pours coffee from the thermos into the spare cup.

"I reckon you know best," Grahame concedes. He hands the cup to Felix who takes it with a nod of thanks and inhales the comfortingly scalding steam. "But I'm still sorry you're stuck in the shit shacks. Although..." Grahame's eyes suddenly light up slyly. "Guess this means you'll be seeing more of our new healer."

Felix's throat constricts tightly. His first sip of coffee is left swimming between his teeth as he tries to remember how to swallow. "Oh," he mumbles noncommittally when his mouth is free again. For once, he's grateful for Grahame's inability to pick up on social cues.

"Yep. Just got here this morning. Go by the med cottage when you have a chance and take a look. She's a peach."

Felix nearly drops his cup.

"Just out of school I think," continues Grahame, entirely oblivious to Felix's tightening jaw. "Can't be more than 18. We'll finally have something to look at besides McFusty. I know Sigeburt and Gil have already asked her to drinks, and there's money on who she says yes to first. I think Alexei's got the pot if you're interested. Personally, my bet's on - Hey! You're not going to finish your coffee?" Grahame calls after Felix's rapidly retreating back.

Felix speeds down the gravel walk toward the hospital cottage, all pretense of cool indifference gone. The blood pounding in his ears keeps time with his feet as his brain scolds him for being eleven kinds of moron. Why, oh why, did this never occur to him? He's been around the pub enough to know the lack of girls makes up a large proportion of the casual conversation among the predominately male dragonologists. Of the three female dragonologists present at the Reserve, two manage to keep themselves from intense scrutiny by their advanced age and the third -

Felix skids to a halt to avoid crashing into the stocky, muscular body and long red braid of the Reserve's youngest female dragonologist as she steps out of the hospital cottage's doorway. Instinct, recognising the impending danger, peddles his feet back just a step before dignity demands he stand his ground, matching the emerald eyes glare for glare.

"Rosier."

"McFusty."

The woman's eyes flicker into twin green flames as if Felix's cool pronunciation of her name were a grievous insult. "What do you want?" she asks fiercely, crossing her arms and planting herself in the doorway as if to block his entrance.

Felix smirks. The presence of his least favorite person at the Reserve gives his anxiety a purpose and a target. Enemies, he knows how to handle.

"To see our new healer, of course," he replies with perfect innocence. "But only if you're quite finished. I'm sure you need her assistance far more than I. Didn't your last attempt at anti-venom cause an outbreak of boils?"

McFusty's nostrils flare in such an accurate impression of the Hebridean Blacks she cares for that Felix wouldn't be surprised if actual sparks shot from them. She whips her head around to call over her shoulder into the cottage, "This'll be one of those unsavoury types I mentioned. Do let me know if he bothers you," McFusty meets Felix's eyes once more as she finishes, "I'll be happy to hex him a new hole."

Satisfied with the last word, McFusty steps out of the cottage, careful to bump hard into Felix's shoulder on her way down the walk. Felix contents himself with another superior smirk. He watches the angry red-head out of the corner of his eye as she marches away, years of experience reminding him just how possible a parting hex might be.

"What was that about?" calls a voice from inside the building that drives McFusty entirely from Felix's mind.

Excitement bubbling in his chest, Felix steps into the dimly lit cottage and jumps back hastily when the floor crunches under his feet. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in light, Felix squints at the ground, then around the building's one large room. He wonders how it earned the generous title of "cottage" when "dilapidated shack" would be more accurate. Everything he can see appears to be dusty or broken or a combination of the two. What had appeared in the darkness to be piles of garbage carpeting the floor turn out, in fact, to actually be piles of garbage. There's hardly a wooden floorboard that isn't buried under cracked and broken jars and bottles, rotten bouquets of dried herbs and plants, or crushed, empty boxes. And sitting cross-legged in the middle of the rubble, like a queen surveying her unruly subjects, is Juniper.

For all his apprehension about this very moment, Felix can't stop elation surging through him as he takes in the sight. Juniper, in her trademark jeans and jumper (Slytherin green, he notes), here, in the same place as him, after all this time. Somehow, it's both soothing and exciting, and Felix wishes he could be allowed to just quietly enjoy her presence for a few minutes. But Juniper's watching him expectantly, head cocked to the side, the wand she's stuck through her loose bun wobbling slightly, and he realizes he hasn't answered her question.

"It's...nothing," replies Felix belatedly. He can hear the slight tremor of joy in his voice and struggles to keep his face impassive. Juniper doesn't appear to notice. She leans across a small pile of uncorked bottles to scribble something on a roll of parchment nearly two feet long.

"Well, if you're here for burn salve or anti-venom or...anything really it'll just have to wait," she says testily, without looking up. "Every single thing in here is either empty or unlabeled, it's going to take me at least a week to sort through it all. And all the ingredients are gone off as well, so there's no way to make anything till I've got more. I'm making up a list now, and I'll get it to Guivré just as soon as I can but I don't know how quickly the post runs here, so I really can't give you a time estimate." She runs a distracted hand through her hair, dust leaving a faint white streak.

Felix's lips twitch of their own accord. He clears his throat into his hand to hide them.

"You'd do better to send off for anything you need yourself and then file for reimbursement. You'll get it a good deal faster. Guivré's a hard person to track down and he doesn't consider paperwork a priority. Anything you leave in his office could very well sit there for months."

"Alright then," says Juniper, voice noticeably bereft of her characteristic cheer. She gets to her feet, neatly avoiding the toppling piles of rubbish propped against her, and rolls up her parchment. "I'll do it myself. I don't suppose you could point me to the post office? The bloke who showed me in took my owl from me. He said something about them not being allowed to fly here?"

"Yes, there's no loose owls allowed on the Reserve. They have to be kept at the Post Office and flown in designated areas. Apparently, they used to fly over the dragon habitats and get eaten. Cost the Reserve a fortune in recompense." Felix trails away when he realises Juniper hasn't heard a word. She’s turning round in a circle, eyes on the floor, kicking aside debris with increasingly frantic movements. "Have you lost something?"

"My wand," Juniper exclaims angrily, now patting the pockets of her dust-covered jeans. She lets out a groan of frustration when she finds nothing. Carefully circumventing a pile of jagged glass, Felix steps forward and plucks the wand from the back of Juniper's hair. He offers it to her, failing to keep the amusement from his eyes and mouth. Juniper snatches it away from him, face flushed with shame or anger, he isn't sure which.

"You seem...bothered," Felix comments, taking care not to smile.

"It's just... been a long morning." Juniper rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs deeply. "People've been in and out since I got in. Half of them want things I don't have and get pissed when I don't have it, like they thought I would show up with an endless supply of potions in tow? And then the other half don't even need anything, they just want to ask me questions about the Cursed Vaults or my brother or whether I'm currently seeing anyone!" She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Like that's the first thing I'm thinking about! It's my first day at my first job, I've not had time to change or eat or use the bloody toilet, but yes, let me choose a dinner companion."

Felix's tightly coiled tension unwinds, and for the first time that morning he's able to relax. A distant part of him registers guilt that he wasn't there to help make Juniper's arrival more hospitable, but that can be easily improved, now he's confident none of the dragonologists will be winning the betting pool anytime soon.

"Has no one showed you around yet?"

Juniper shakes her head. "No. Guivré had some bloke take my things from me at the gate and then led me straight here."

"Well then," Felix relieves Juniper of her roll of parchment and gestures to the door. "Let me give you the grand tour."

"What?" Juniper meets his eyes, and Felix wonders if he's imagining wariness in them. "That's - really ok. I'm sure you've got loads to do, and I should probably stay and sort through this mess."

"It's been sitting like this for nearly a year, it'll wait another few hours," Felix assures her. When she continues to look uncertain, he adds wryly, "What kind of gentleman would I be if I let your first day here be all misery?" And with mock solemnity, Felix offers Juniper his arm.

Juniper blinks. The harassed expression fades, and her eyes twinkle with something more like her usual humour.

"I thought you were a dragonologist now, not a gentleman."

"They're not mutually exclusive."

Felix winks, and a familiar smile spreads slowly up the side of Juniper's face.

"Very well," she replies, taking his arm with excessive ceremony. "Lead on."

Their first stop is the Post Office, where Juniper confirms her owl is settled and is able to send off her list of necessary ingredients to Diagon Alley. Then a short perambulation around the cul-de-sac allows Felix to point out the shop, the pub, and the mess.

"There's three meals a day offered there. It's all free, but it tastes it. I recommend the pub whenever possible."

Juniper's head swivels about following Felix's finger as he names each building.

"Is this it then?" she asks as he leads her onto the path leading to the dragon habitats.

"Yes, apart from the flats. They're on the opposite side of the village."

"Five buildings constitutes a village?"

"You were expecting Hogsmeade?"

"No, not exactly. I guess I just thought...I don't know... that it'd be bigger. Isn't it the largest dragon sanctuary in the world?"

Felix chuckles. "Yes, it is. The largest dragon sanctuary not dragonologist sanctuary. Most of the land is dedicated to the dragon habitats. There's at least two of every known dragon species living here, and they each need several leagues of land to be comfortable and to safely kept from each other. Dragons don't play well together."

"I see," Juniper says, nodding absently. She's fallen a bit behind Felix, constantly turning side to side to take in the scenery.

"It's beautiful here," she observes and Felix feels as puffed with pride as though he had cultivated the landscape himself.

"Yes," he agrees. "There's a bit of everything here. Terrain to suit each dragon. Over that way's the mountain where they keep the Longhorns and the Shortsnouts. And the valley on the other side are for the Opaleyes. There's even an enormous lake for the Ridgeback."

"Where do the Peruvian Viperteeth live?" asks Juniper eagerly.

"Vipertooths is the appropriate plural," Felix corrects. "And our habitat's just up the path there. It's hills mostly, with a small wooded area. They tried to cultivate a miniature jungle there, but whoever was responsible for it had never actually seen a jungle before so it's really just an eclectic forest."

"Can I see them?" The bubbling excitement in Juniper's voice is too much for Felix to maintain his staid self-control, and he laughs. He can't remember the last time he laughed like this, warm and full and real.

"Where do you think I'm taking you?"

The prospect of seeing dragons lends speed to Juniper's feet until she's practically skipping next to a still-chuckling Felix. They turn off the path, and Felix leads the way to the hidden paddock.

Juniper's face is pressed nearly flat against the window, as she searches every direction for a sign of a bronze dragon.

"She's bound to come back this way soon," Felix reassures. "There's more tree cover over here and she prefers to stay in the shade once it's gets too warm in the afternoons."

They stand together quietly for a moment watching the tree line, so close their shoulders almost touch. Each time Juniper turns her head, the smell of lavender and that other scent Felix can never identify wafts toward him. Something hot kindles to life in his lower abdomen but before it can become too distracting Juniper's curiousity comes to the rescue.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," says Felix in relief.

"What is it you actually do? I mean... in Peru you were running around chasing dragons, stopping them from eating people and everything, and I assume you're not doing that anymore. So, what do you do here?"

The question confuses Felix at first, until he remembers how little they've communicated in the last year. He adopts the old self-assured voice he always used when tutoring younger students.

"Well, there's two resident dragonologists to each dragon breed, and we're responsible for their upkeep: feeding them, keeping them healthy, preventing them from escaping. We get a team of assistants but that changes regularly, everything pretty much falls to us. We take notes about their behaviour and write down basically everything that happens with them each day and keep it on file so other dragonologists and magizoologists can use it for research. We've also nearly always got some sort of researcher that needs access to the dragons for a paper or experiment or whatnot and they want looking after and questions answered. It's quite a bit more paperwork than being a dragonologist in the field."

"Interesting," murmurs Juniper, now watching Felix instead of the window.

"Really?" he asks, cursing the hated blush that colours his cheeks.

"Of course. You never really think about that side of it, do you? That being a Dragonologist is more than just stunning spells and dodging flame. Most people think-"

A rush of whistling wind interrupts Juniper before she can explain what most people think, and she turns to the window eagerly.

"Look up," Felix tells her. Juniper's nose hits the glass as she cranes her neck to watch the copper-coloured dragon descend at a breathtaking pace onto the sloping hill in front of them. Felix spares a quick glance at the dragon to determine which it is before returning his gaze to Juniper, watching with satisfaction as her mouth falls slightly open.

"It's gorgeous," she breathes, hands now pressed against the window beside her face, as if she might feel the warm scales through the enchanted glass.

"She."

"She?"

Felix nods. "That's a female. You can tell by the small ridge of spikes around her eyes. I caught her terrorizing a little village near the Pacaya-Samiria reserve."

"You caught her?" Juniper asks in awed disbelief.

"Well, my team and I."

Outside the paddock, the sparkling dragon stretches her wings leisurely and wriggles her long snake-like body from snout to tail as if shaking off dust. She slithers regally toward the tangled trees near the paddock, and wraps herself around a large trunk.

"Can we go see her?' Juniper asks eagerly.

"Not unless you'd like to lose a limb. I'm afraid Gen's particularly bloodthirsty."

"Her name's Gen?"

"It's short for Genièvre.”

"Where does that come from?" asks Juniper curiously, but before Felix has to think up a suitable excuse, movement registers out of the corner of his eye.

He and Juniper both turn to inspect the small group of wizards now trotting down the hill from the direction the dragon had come. Felix recognizes Rashbold leading a team of assistants, each dragging bulky sacks behind them. He's about to explain the glamourous world of the Reserve's dragon dung trade when Juniper cries, "Charlie!" and waves frantically at one of the sack-laden assistants. All Felix's high spirits deflate as he recognises the flaming hair.

"He can't hear you," he tells her brusquely. "The glass is enchanted. We can see out but they can't see in."

"Oh, too bad. I hope his first day's better than mine."

Felix retreats to the back of the paddock and leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching Juniper watch Charlie cart his sack down the hill toward the habitat's entrance. From here it doesn't look like the Weasley boy has changed much in appearance. He's still quite short, Felix's notes with a savage pleasure, but there's no denying he's exceptionally well-built for his size. First Barnaby, now Weasley; Juniper clearly has a type.

"So," asks Felix unsure whether it's courage or weakness that prompts the question. "You and Charlie are..."

When he can't complete his sentence, Juniper turns curiously. "Are what?"

Felix can feel his face heat and looks down, feigning interest in the tops of his boots. "Together?"

"What, you mean like together together?" Juniper giggles, a gossiping school-girl sort of sound. "No, of course not."

The answer is entirely unexpected. Hope flickers to life inside Felix like a candle flame, but he refuses to let it warm him.

"Really?" he replies skeptically. "You just came here together by coincidence, then?"

"Well, no it's not exactly a coincidence.I mean, we're friends. Well, the sort of friends that when Charlie found out where I'd applied he threatened to jinx me if I didn't ask about a job for him as well."

"Sounds like he really wanted to work with you," presses Felix, and Juniper laughs again, a comfortable laugh as if he'd told an old favorite joke.

"You clearly don't know Charlie," she says between chuckles. Catching sight of Felix's flat expression, Juniper calms herself enough to explain. "Look, you know how some guys like girls and some guys like guys? Well, Charlie just likes dragons. That's all he ever thinks about, every day, all the time. That's why we got to be such good friends, actually. All our other friends got to be obsessed with dating and romance and for a while it was like you couldn't ever hang out with anyone without wondering if they really liked you or wanted to secretly date you or something. It was exhausting. But with Charlie I never had to worry about that and he never had to worry about that with me, so we could just study in peace."

It's as though the storm clouds over Felix's head have parted and the sun is shining on him fully for the first time in months. He feels lighter than air, and his breathing is full and easy. A weight has been lifted off his chest he didn't know he'd been carrying. Too late, he realises he's grinning and he can't switch it off. Juniper's notices as well.

"What's so funny?" she asks, mirroring his smile automatically.

Felix ignores her question. Instead, he grabs her hand, pulling her away from the window and toward the exit. Joy has gifted him a brilliant idea, and he can't wait even a second to put it into action.

"There's something I want you to see."

“Are we nearly there?”

“Nearly.”

“That's what you said twenty minutes ago,” Juniper grumbles, but Felix can hear the laughter in it.

“And it was true then, too.” Felix races down the winding path that leads to the deeper dragon habitats, Juniper in tow. When the trees disappear entirely and the hills grow higher and sharper, he speeds up.

“Felix, come on, my legs are killing me.”

“It's just up this hill, I promise." His grin feels like it might sprout wings and fly off his face and Juniper can’t help but laugh at it as she clambers up the hill behind him.

"Merlin's Beard, Felix, this had better be worth-"

Juniper stops abruptly as she reaches the hill top. She stares down at the other side, eyes very wide.

“Is that...“

“Yes,” says Felix softly. Juniper presses a hand tightly to her mouth.

Below them, a dragon trots gaily across the grass chasing what appears from the colour to be an enchanted quaffle. A wizard nearby directs the progress of the ball with his wand, and the large green dragon follows it closely. Every few paces, it leaps into the air, catching wind under it's right wing and gliding forward to snap long white fangs at the ball before landing back onto the ground gracefully. It tosses its emerald head and emits a musical snort like a trumpet call.

"Sparky..." Juniper's voice is thick and wet, and Felix realises with an ebb of his high-spirits that tears are streaming down her face.

"Are you crying?" The question tumbles from him as soon as he thinks it, before he can register how stupid it sounds. It's obvious she's crying, what isn't obvious is why. And though Felix casts around frantically for a reason, he can't come up with anything that makes sense.

"Yes," Juniper replies wiping roughly at her eyes with her sleeve. "Sorry. It happens a lot more now than it used to."

"But what...what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong...I promise. I'm just..." A choked sob prevents any more coherent explanation. Felix can only stand helplessly while Juniper sobs loudly into her hands, Sparky still prancing below them.

"I'm sorry," Felix offers, though the words feel wholly inadequate and he isn't even sure what he ought to be sorry for. "I thought you'd like to see him."

Juniper shakes her head quickly, trying to speak through her tears. "I would...I mean, I do. It's wonderful. It's just.." She sniffs loudly. "I don't know, I just can't believe...that I'm here. I'm really here."

"What do you mean?" asks Felix cautiously.

"I mean, here. At the Romanian Reserve. I always wanted to come here and...visit Sparky one day. But I never thought... I mean...I never really thought I'd get out of school alive, you know? I didn't think...I'd make it.." Juniper looks down at Sparky once more. "But I did...I'm here. It's over and...I can't believe it."

It's as though the last year has never occurred. The final vestiges of Felix's twisted anger and resentment and confusion shrink to nothing. All he can feel is the same familiar, overwhelming love for Juniper he remembers, and that primal desire to make anything hurting her disappear.

"Come here." Felix wraps his arms around Juniper's shaking shoulders and lets her bury her wet face against his chest. He holds her to him delicately, unable to keep from savouring the feeling of her body pressed against his once more. "You did make it. It's all over now." Felix strokes her windswept hair softly. "And things are going to be so much better from now on. I promise."

Missed the last bits? Here’s the link to the masterpost.

12 notes · View notes

minttoy · 5 years

Text

Song and Steel

Summary: “Annette can never how slowly, and then somehow all at once, he became someone to lose.” - Annette and Felix through the war. Missing scenes post time skip

Pairings: Felix/Annette

Click here to read on FF.net.

Click here to read on AO3.

----------

Annette never meant to lose her composure, especially in battle.

It starts when she inflicts the final blow on the Gloucester heir – a quick gale casted for a counter. Had she known it would leave Lorenz at death’s door, she might not have done it. Her professor’s words suddenly throb in her head: Kill or be killed. She finds little comfort in the saying, because Annette doesn’t have Byleth’s mercenary background or ironed mindset. Instead, all she thinks is ‘What have I done?’ and she repeats it to herself like a mantra.

“Annette!” Someone is calling her from behind. She can’t distinguish above the noise.

She starts forward at a run, stumbling over dead bodies and slipping when her foot catches the end of a lance in her path. When she gets to him, she makes quick work to haul Lorenz’s body off his fallen steed and lay him flat on the ground. She doesn’t know when her arms became strong enough to drag a bloodied man almost twice her size out of tangled heap, but she shows no signs of stopping.

She tries to rouse him, checks his pulses, searches for signs of life – anything – but his blood just coats more of her hands.

“Annette, you idiot! Get out of there!”

When she looks up, Felix is too close. In a hurry, he catches her around the waist and starts pulling her backwards. When she pushes against him, he has to hook his arm around her chest to hold her back.

“He’s gone!” he shouts in her ear, because she’s still squirming.

“No! At least let me-”

A demonic beast is nearby. Fire is heaved and belched in their direction, setting the wooden rafters and planks and grounds ablaze. Suddenly the world is ignited in flame. She coughs twice as noxious fumes and smoke penetrate the air around them. Heat blankets her face as a nearby pillar catches fire. It cracks and falls, blocking her path to Lorenz’s body, and she would have been caught in the destruction if not for-

A light-headedness suddenly overcomes her.

She feels her knees buckle, arms fall limp and then she slackens in his arms. Her mind is too shocked to think clear, much less chide herself for recklessness. Felix lets out a heavy sigh from behind. She knows because she feels his chest move and his breath grazes her cheek.

A moment later, she’s pulled to her feet. His touch is considerably gentler, less forceful.

“Come on,” he pipes up, quickly appraising her balance when he lets go.

She has no choice but to listen. When he takes her arm, she lets him lead.

----------

War is a nightmare of itself, but taking down familiar faces is a different horror. After the battle, Annette ruminates the thought as she kneels down by Lorenz’s body, still distinguishable in spite of the burns and charred skin. She offers him a moment of silence because it’s all she can do. She whispers a soft prayer because it makes her feel better.

Felix stands beside her, arms crossed and gaze focused on the ground. Whether he’s here begrudgingly or not, she does not know, but his presence and patience are small comforts.

When she rises to stand, Felix meets her eyes with wary anticipation.

She sighs. “…I guess there’s no turning back.”

He shakes his head.

The image of his corpse is already burned in her mind. A shiver tracks her spine. “Could we ever get over something like this?” she adds, more as an afterthought.

He shrugs. “I doubt it, but maybe ask me again later, when the war is over.”

Having accepted the fact, she holds her hands between them so he can see them too. Like pouring alcohol over a festered wound, she flips over her palms and stares at the blood-soaked gloves. She winces and flashes a pained expression, digesting the awful sight. She knows she’ll carry this guilt for life.

“Are you okay?”

She pulls her gloves by the fingers first before removing them completely. To her horror, the blood is soaked even to the skin of her hands. Damn. A shadow falls on her face and a sigh escapes her lips. She tucks those gloves deep into her pocket, out of sight, but not out of mind.

“I will be,” she says, attempting some level of optimism, even though her voice is weary. It occurs to her that she’s killed before – a multitude of times, too. In theory, this time should be no different. It seems pathetic, in hindsight, how easily she lost herself when she’s casted storms to rain down her enemies before. She laughs at herself a little, hollow as it is. “…I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. When I saw him on the ground, I just wanted to save him so badly...I didn’t mean for you to-”

“Stop.”

She raises him a brow. She forgets the words on her tongue once she sees his softened features, a rare sight to behold.

“What’s done is done. You did what you had to. I don’t want to hear excuses or apologies, especially not for my sake,” he tells her point-blank. He’s never been a man of soft words anyway, not that she expected him to offer any. It’s a tough, sturdy kind of comfort. Sometimes it offers more than soothing words can afford.

“Thank you, then,” she says, mirroring his softened gaze. If he won’t accept her apologies, he might as well accept her thanks.

“Sure,” he scoffs before turning away, which is the most acknowledgement she’ll get out of him.

He stays by her side, and she’s grateful.

----------

“Professor?”

Annette peeks into the Captain’s Quarters. After the battle at the bridge, Byleth has quietly taken to moving all her things to Jeralt’s old room. Annette thinks her Professor can no longer bear the thought of sleeping in the student dormitories anymore, but it’s only speculation. Her professor remains a wild conundrum, even now.

“Come in.”

Byleth’s attention is focused largely on paperwork, brows creasing as her eyes flit across the paper. Annette can only assume the document is highly vexing, but she puts it away in a flash and sets down her feather quill, eyes now trained to her student. Her expression is blank and seemingly cold and there are traces of darkness under her eyes. When Annette asks if she slept last night, Byleth dismisses her concern.

“Professor, I’m looking for advice. In our last battle, I…well, you see, I did something that I’m not sure I can…”

Somehow, her point gets across.

The professor sighs softly. “Annette, I apologize you had to experience that. I understand it’s difficult engaging in battle with former classmates and peers,” she starts, tone neutral, robotic even, in spite of her words. “Awful as it is, you will never forget it. Believe me, I’ve also taken down foes who were once my friends.”

“I know. I just wish it didn’t have to end like that,” she tells honestly.

Byleth’s eyes darken suddenly and for a moment, Annette fears she spoke out of line.

“You regret it now, but a harsh lesson I must teach you is that war does not discriminate between you and your enemies,” Byleth says so evenly, as if she’s giving one of her lectures. Annette doesn’t notice how hard she clenches a fist under the desk. “It will take one after the other, and if you are lucky, you owe it to yourself to live another day.”

Hmm. That’s one way to put it.

Annette knows her Professor isn’t one for soothing words either. It is most apparent when she handles Dimitri’s outbursts and violent tendencies with a certain hardiness. He needs someone like that – someone to set him in place, not coddle and feed his murderous fantasies. People seem to think it’s her job as his teacher. Annette knows it goes beyond that. Her father mentioned once how forgiving someone’s darkness implies a love beyond measure. She thinks Dimitri loves her too, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

When Byleth asks if she has any other questions, Annette shakes her head. The rest of her day is spent kneeling by the church pews, as most people do when they have sins to repent.

----------

It’s almost sunset. Her father is usually here by now.

Lately they’ve been spending dinners with each other. It’s always a quiet affair and food rations from the kitchens are never tasty, but it’s taken a long time to get here. Gustave used to brush her off with a blankness that rivalled even the professor’s mercenary gaze. He is distant and haunted even now, but she refuses to be deterred. Somewhere along the push and pull, they’ve agreed to make things work. At the end of the day, she’s just grateful he no longer denies being her father.

After a few more minutes, Annette gets up and looks for him. She starts with his usual haunts: greenhouse, fishing dock, marketplace. Up next is the knight’s hall. She’s not looking to stay so she slips in quietly.

“Father? Are you- Bah!” Her eyes connect with a sharp navy blue pair and she reacts with alarm. Automatically, she straightens her spine and bows at the waist, as she would to any duke of Faerghus. “I-I’m so sorry for intruding! Lord Rodrigue, I should have knocked before entering. Please forgive me.”

He’d been in the middle of sorting documents and letters when she entered. Truly, he’s baffled by her insistent apology more than anything. When Annette looks back up, his expression molds into one of mild interest. He stands and abandons his work on the table.

“No need for apologies, Miss Dominic. Your presence is quite welcome, in fact.”

Her gaze is tinged with confusion. “…Pardon?”

He suppresses the urge to chuckle at her nervous energy. “You haven’t seen my son, have you?”

Annette fidgets with the ends of her gloves, thinking it’s been a long while since she’s seen Felix at all. “Err, I’m afraid not.”

She finds no disappointment on Rodrigue’s end. Rather, his gaze wanders in quiet contemplation. “He was supposed to meet me here for a spar,” he explains, not with any dismay or setback. “Sometimes, I find it’s the only way I can get him to speak with me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Her expression is largely wooden, only because she doesn’t know what to make of it. Felix has openly expressed his distaste for his father before, but she figured some of it had to do with his own stubbornness. He had a penchant for petty behaviour back then.

“Well, Felix can be quite fixed in his ways sometimes. I’m sure you know that as his classmate,” he reflects, maintaining a warm tone of voice despite their talk. He nudges his head in Annette’s direction, shifting course. “How are things between you and your father, by the way?”

She lights up. “It’s better, actually. We fight alongside each other and share dinners…Lately we’ve been catching up on the lost years. I’m glad we found each other when we did.”

He shoots her a fond smile of approval. “I hope you continue to remain positive, my dear. Gustave has a troubled past, but he means well. He also loves you more than anything. In fact, he let me know the other day how proud he is to see how strong you’ve become.”

She flushes a little, taking the compliment in stride. It feels nice to hear it from someone else. She understands it will take a while before her father is comfortable enough to say it directly to her.

Annette catches Rodrigue getting a glimpse of the clock, no doubt wondering whether his son has forgotten their meeting altogether. In secret, Annette hopes Felix isn’t that cruel. She knows the weight and burden of a strained relationship herself, but forgiveness is difficult too.

Rodrigue sighs softly. “Perhaps he’s not showing up,” he concedes. This time, the disappointment in his voice is more palpable, as much as he tries to hide it. He tips his head towards her with a raised brow. “…I hope he’s not giving you the same kind of trouble.”

She shakes her head resolutely. “Oh. He’s no trouble at all, actually.”

It’s Rodrigue’s turn to be surprised and his curious expression begs for an explanation.

Unconsciously, her fingers start worrying with the edge of her shawl. She doesn’t know if her cheeks are flushed pink or red, only knows she generally feels hot. “Felix, well…he’s kind to me, for the most part. I owe him a lot. He’s saved my life more times than I can count too. It’s actually kind of embarrassing.”

Rodrigue gazes with keen interest. “Is that true?”

“Of course,” she insists, and not just because she’s talking to his father. “He works so hard, especially with his training. Seeing him on the grounds everyday makes me want to become stronger.”

“How enlightening,” the man comments, quietly musing to himself. “You speak highly of him.”

She looks at him strange, thinking she has no other to speak otherwise. A lot of teasing and playful banter is exchanged between them, but she’s never mistaken any of it for cruelty.

“I suppose it’s fitting…” continues Rodrigue, her confusion going unnoticed. He puts a hand to his chin in contemplation. “You should know he speaks highly of you too.”

Annette did not know it was possible her face could heat up more, but it does. Her colour must be beet red by now. Embarrassed, she looks away to salvage any sort of control. She doesn’t notice Rodrigue chuckling at her unexpected predicament. Oddly enough, Felix teases her the same way just to get that reaction.

She startles with a yelp when the double doors swing wide open, rushing in a breeze of cool air. Felix waltzes in casually despite the awkward atmosphere, raises a brow at the pair and unceremoniously drops his weapons on one side of the room. Annette almost smiles in relief, and observes as he gets to work, quickly dusting his hands with powder before moving to the sword rack.

He shoots a pointed gaze at his father first. “Spilling all my secrets, old man?”

“Why, I would never,” Rodrigue says wryly, feigning an offended expression. “Am I not allowed to have pleasant conversation with one of your peers?”

It earns him an eye roll. “…Right.”

Annette eyes Felix in particular, thinking this kind of banter would have no place if he harboured so much hatred. Soon, he catches her staring, but she doesn’t look away.

“Annette.” He says her name so dryly, as to not suggest anything between them. It goes without saying how aware he is of his dad standing across the room. “I ran into your father in the dining hall. He’s waiting for you.”

She lights up in remembrance. “Ah, that’s right!” Her posture straightens up and she bows, mostly to Rodrigue, before turning to Felix. “I’ll…see you later?”

He nods curtly, masking his desperation to get her out of his father’s prying eyes. Even now, he won’t hear the end of it. Maybe she caught on, or maybe she didn’t, but she scurries out of there not a moment longer. Felix lets out a sigh of relief when she does and doesn’t miss the grin on Rodrigue’s face as he readies for a spar.

“Sweet girl,” he comments, shrugging off his coat and drawing his own blade.

Felix cannot tell if he’s teasing as a father would, or trying to lower his guard. “I would prefer if you keep out of my business.”

“Who says I’m meddling?”

He sighs in annoyance and unsheathes his sword. Felix is short-tempered to begin with, but Rodrigue could grate his nerves with a single look. Every moment like this resembles how they used to be, as if things could work out after all.

----------

Fate won’t have it.

Rodrigue falls in the next battle. He goes down the same way as Glenn and for a short moment, Felix despises the goddess for saddling his family with such an atrocious destiny; sacrificing themselves in the name of their king, or in this case, the boar. He’d be damned if he went out like that, not because he doesn’t care for the prince, but because Dimitri better get his grip on reality soon and start fending for himself. Even now, the man is still spewing insanity and nonsense from his teeth.

Felix doesn’t shed a single tear. All he can do is grit his teeth and bear it, even as the last words from his father is a whispered and choked-up apology.

Some distance away, Annette watches with grief, remembering how they used to bond over these things. Rodrigue and Gustave were hardly present and yet, she came to Garreg Mach in search for him. Felix scoffed at her, questioning how she could house a heart of forgiveness when she’d been intentionally ignored. He couldn’t fully grasp the concept at the time.

But Annette sees it on his face now, the way his eyes crinkle in pain and his hands clench in tight fists, that he understands it better.

----------

A week later, Felix is still unreachable. He spends his days sulking in the training grounds. Dimitri sulks in the church. He tells Sylvain to pass the message that he refuses to be consoled or coddled. As he takes out his frustrations on training dummies, he can’t seem to forget his stupid father, dying with regret and leaving this world with an apology. Felix thinks it would have been easier if he made no effort at all in the past five years.

Fuck.

He’s interrupted sometimes. Those who don’t know him usually scurry away. Sylvain stops by to bring him food from the kitchen, which looks like gruel nowadays. Mercedes stopped by once to heal his wounds. Today, it’s Ingrid who opens the door.

He thinks she’s here to scold him, nag him or drag him out for lunch. She acts so motherly even if she won’t admit it, but she surprises him today. Silently, she takes a lance from the rack and offers to spar.

He knows early in the fight that every strike and attack of hers is touched with anger. The unspoken person in the room is undoubtedly Glenn. Recently, she’s been reconsidering what it means to be a knight, no longer clouded with chivalrous tales and noble attributes. Both Rodrigue and Glenn had died with pain and regrets.

When they’re both bruised and catching their breath, she drops her weapon first.

He tips his head towards her. “Still intent on becoming a knight?”

Ingrid laughs, but it’s flat and empty. “Of course.” Then she withdraws from battle, stepping back and putting her weapon away. Before she turns on her heel, she looks over her shoulder and gives him a quick onceover. He can’t hide from her inspecting gaze.

“Felix, don’t overdo it. Please? I fear you’ll get reckless,” she says after a while.

Ah, there it is.

He scoffs, “I was waiting for you to say something like that.”

She doesn’t smile, not in the mood to joke. “I’m serious. If you die on the battlefield too, I won’t forgive you,” she says, which is her roundabout way of telling him she cares.

----------

Annette attempts to visit him the next day. Sylvain finds her sitting on the bench outside the knight’s hall. She’s leaning back, staring at the sunset hues of the sky, legs straightened out in front of her and a small box sitting precariously on her lap. A blank gaze graces her features.

“Annette?”

She jumps and startles. He’s about to dive for the sliding box until she secures it with her hands. She straightens up in her seat, eyes darting around until they settle on him. She exhales a small breath. “Oh, Sylvain. You frightened me.”

“How long have you been sitting here?” he asks, because the evening chill is starting to set and she looks paler than usual.

“Haha, I don’t know actually…” she answers sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I must have gotten carried away.”

Sylvain’s eyes shift from her to the knight’s hall. He might act a bumbling fool most of the time, but he dissects the situation easy enough. “Let me guess, you paid our good friend Felix a visit?”

She nods her head and gestures to her gift. “I went into town today and bought some goodies for him. The kitchen hasn’t been serving anything tasty as of late, so I picked out some meats and grabbed a few rolls of bread. Nothing sweet or covered in chocolate, of course.”

The redhead grins at that. Felix should consider himself lucky, because he hardly deserve her kindness. “That’s awfully kind of you. How come it’s still sitting in your hands?”

“He told me to leave his sight.”

She says it so bluntly Sylvain almost chokes on his saliva. He coughs and clears his throat, and Annette just shoots him an oblivious gaze. “Well, that’s rude of him,” he says when he finally gets his bearings. “I suppose he’s still being a jerk then. If you want, I could give him a piece of my mind?”

She chuckles, and then shakes her head. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t think he’s ready yet. Maybe I should have been more patient instead.”

Sylvain resists the urge to roll his eyes. Felix, with his brash and condescending nature, doesn’t deserve this at all. What’s worse is he’s being difficult about it. Pushing away the thought, he molds his gaze to become kinder. “You know, I figured if anyone could reach him, it would be you.”

“Hmm?” Annette tilts her head curiously at him. “Why do you say that?”

Sylvain backpedals a little. “He warms up easier to you. With us, he’s more stubborn.”

“Oh, I see,” she accepts with ease. She gulps in her throat, and he recognizes she’s withholding something at the tip of her tongue. “Hey, you don’t think…he’s not overworking himself, is he?”

“Nah, I think he’ll be fine,” he reassures, not with a measure of doubt. Felix has his self-destructive ways, but he’s never spiralled out of control, not like Dimitri. Funny how some people think Sylvain is the least stable of the three of them. “Trust me. He acted the same way when Glenn died, and he turned around.”

Annette smiles, believing him. “Thank you.”

“You seem to care for him a whole lot.”

“Of course I do,” she says, flushing a light pink. It leaves Sylvain wondering when she became so bold about admitting to such things.

There’s a sound from behind. A heavy wooden door opening, and the clack of boots following. Felix emerges from the knight’s hall, looking dragged and worn. When his gaze cuts to the redhead first, his expression becomes annoyed. “Ugh, I knew it was you running your mouth out here.”

“Nice seeing you coming out of your shell,” Sylvain comments too casually, not interested in treating him with caution at all. Then again, Felix refuses to be talked with any hint of consolation or pity. “You done sulking yet or what?”

The dark-haired male just scoffs and turns to Annette, who’s standing now and clutching her offering between her arms. “You’re still here?”

She pouts, showing him her own stubbornness. “I told you I wasn’t leaving.”

The moment is followed by silence where the two of them just…stare at each other.

Sylvain’s about to interject and tease him again, but he quickly realizes what’s going on. He’s played this game before – the first to look away loses. A strange, but intimate way of arguing. Felix can easily take this one because he’s a petty and stubborn mule, but Sylvain pays special attention to Annette. Her lip quivers and she can’t hold her pout for much longer.

To his surprise, Felix submits first. He sighs and tips his head towards the room. “Get in. You’ll catch a cold sitting out here,” he says without a trace of softness.

She grins at her small victory and scurries inside because she’s shivering. She nods a small thanks to him when he opens the door for her. Before following after, he raises Sylvain a brow, particularly to the lopsided grin tugging the corner of his lips.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Felix is stubborn as always, not that he expects any different.

Sylvain notices he’s still holding the door open.

“You coming in?”

The redhead shakes his head. “And interrupt precious time with your girl? I think I’ll pass. Besides, third-wheeling isn’t really my thing, as you know.”

Felix puts a hand to his face and drags it all the way down. He peeks behind him in search for Annette, relieved she probably didn’t hear any of that. When he looks back at Sylvain, he’s already sauntering away.

“Treat her nice, Felix. She’s taking care of you after all.”

----------

Later, when the muscles in his arm ache from swinging his sword, he joins her at the table by the fireplace. She’s laid out a small feast for them, and sits in deep thought. When he approaches, she snaps out of her reverie. He quietly reminds himself to ask later what weighs heavy on her mind.

“Hungry?” she chirps.

He plops down on the seat in front of her with a grunt. “Starving.”

For some reason, she smiles at that. He reaches for the one of the bread rolls, breaks it in half and takes one in his mouth. It’s less stale than the ones they serve from the kitchen, but then he notices quickly she’s not taking any for herself. He’s about to ask why, but she breaks silence first.

“Felix, I always wondered…” she says, that faraway look in her eyes again. “What was your dad like?”

He squirms in discomfort, but hides it. He lets the silence go on for too long anyway.

“Sorry,” she says, withdrawing her hands from the table and onto her lap. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s just…now is not the right time. Once the war is over, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

That evokes a small smile out of her. She gazes at him earnestly because she hopes he’ll remember. “Is that a promise?”

He nods stiffly. “I promise.”

----------

Dimitri finally turns around. No one is probably happier than their professor, even if it doesn’t show on her face. He offers his formal apologies to his peers and friends, and again to his beloved teacher. Felix thinks it was nice hearing it the first time, but irritating the second and third time.

Even when the meeting is over, Dimitri follows him out the door and requests to speak with him. Considering the death of Rodrigue, Dimitri feels Felix is owed an extra apology.

“Felix, I must apologize again for my untoward behaviours. Words are all I have to offer, empty as they may be, but please tell me what I must do to make it up to you because I am, once again, indebted to you and your family.”

He rolls his eyes. Dimitri will follow him around and beg if he has to, so Felix saves him the trouble. It would prove more troublesome if it came down to that.

“To start, it’s annoying to see you reduced to grovelling,” he scoffs, unafraid of being honest. “If this is what the boar prince of Faerghus looks like, then the future is bleak.”

Dimitri actually smiles at the familiarity of it. “Perhaps I could make it up to you with a spar?”

“Hmph. Sure you could beat me? I’ve seen you let your guard down too many times.”

The blonde has a small change of heart, raising a brow at the challenge. “Perhaps it’s unwise to underestimate me? You have better speed, but I’m certain I have strength on my side.”

Felix huffs. He’s referring to his size, of course. Dimitri has always had the physical advantage when they fight. He’s taller than Sylvain now too, towering over most of them like a mountain, or a roof over a house. Even without his shabby cloak, the man appears imposing and enormous.

“I’ve taken down beasts like you before,” he jests, throwing in a casual shrug to tick him off.

Dimitri’s lone eye twitches. He’s surprised by how quickly they’re slipping back to their old ways. Always bickering and challenging one another. Simple conversations turning into pissing contests. Settling things with their weapons instead of their words.

“Besides, strength isn’t everything. If it were that easy, I would have done it myself,” Felix continues, following up with a shake of his head. “Even five years past, you still don’t know a lick of magic.”

Dimitri shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I doubt I would need it to defeat you.”

“Are you willing to test that out?”

“Well, I offered to spar, did I not?” Dimitri only wears a smug expression because he knows it gets under his skin. Rivalry has always been part of their friendship, after all. “We could settle it this evening and determine the results of our training then.”

Felix snorts, and then barely suppresses his laughter. “By ‘training’, do you mean the past few months you spent standing in front of the church rubble?”

Dimitri chortles, but he’s hardly fazed. “To be fair, I have spent the last five years on the battlefield.”

“Yes, and now you wear an eyepatch,” he retorts easily. “Unless it’s for show, I fail to see your point.”

The prince crinkles at the insult, but he’s still smirking underneath. “Oof, that one hurts.”

He shrugs. “It’s only your pride. Just wait till we get on the training grounds.”

They settle it there. Felix turns his heel and starts to leave the room. At the door, he pauses to hurl his parting words. Dimitri is still listening and waiting for him to say it.

“Keep yourself in line, Dimitri. That’s what my father asked of you before he died. Don’t make his sacrifice in vain. Personally, I don’t intend on dying to save your ass, so don’t let it come to that.”

----------

Fhirdiad, the crown jewel and capital city of Faerghus, is finally theirs again. It took a monumental effort on their part, worthy of a celebratory feast. There’s music and dancing. Lively conversation and laughter. Wine and liquor are being passed amongst the soldiers, so it’s bound to end in some sort of disaster.

When the server offers to fill his glass, Felix declines. Sylvain, rowdier than usual and drunker than most, passes him a full glass of whiskey before demanding him to loosen up.

Annette sits beside him and sneaks a glance every now and then. He still wears his perpetual scowl even in celebration, but part of it is irritation for the redhead’s antics on his other side. By the time dessert arrives, Sylvain is halfway done telling his exaggerated tales of bravery on the battlefield when he gets up and asks a vexed Ingrid for a dance. When he’s rejected, he pulls Mercedes instead, who doesn’t have the heart to refuse.

Annette, on the other hand, revels and savours each and every bite of her cake. They hardly serve desserts at the monastery, and nothing ever reaches this level of sugary sweetness. To no one’s surprise, she gobbles it up in minutes. When he notices she’s done, Felix nudges his serving in her direction. The expression of gratitude that flashes across her eyes is delightful. It warms his heart, even if he won’t admit it.

“Say, Felix…” she starts, spooning the frosting off the top of the cake. “Ever think about the future? You know, after the war is finished.”

“Nope,” is his short and curt answer.

She raises him a brow, wondering if he’s being difficult, or he legitimately has not given it any thought. For now, she’ll take his word for it. “I suppose it’s not that complicated,” she muses out loud, mindlessly picking at her plate. Somehow her mind always goes back to this. “When the war is over, Dimitri will ascend the throne. Some of us will have to do the same in our house.”

The two of them included, of course. Sometimes Annette forgets her nobility, much less that she’s heir to the house after her uncle passes. It’s been easy to brush it off because of the war.

“Does it upset you?” he asks pointedly.

She shrugs and pushes away the thought. Felix knows she’ll assume her cheery façade in no time. “No, but it’s just…don’t you have dreams or wishes? Things you wish you could do, but maybe you’re not allowed?”

He raises a brow, but he has an inkling of where she’s going with this. “Is there something you want to do?”

Annette sighs pensively. “Sometimes I think about becoming a teacher,” she admits, staring up at the ceiling. Mercedes has told her it’s far from unrealistic, but the war has dampened her hopes.

“I’ve always loved the school atmosphere,” she continues, remembering her academy days. Some people forget she was enrolled in another school before she joining the monastery. “Sometimes, I imagine what it’s like standing at a desk and explaining the basics of magic and spellcasting. I would have students of my own and I would treat them all equally, even the grumpy ones that don’t want to learn. I wouldn’t mind that for the rest of my life. Does that sound silly?”

When she tilts her head to him, his gaze is surprisingly tender. “Not at all. To be fair, I’m more surprised you don’t dream of becoming a singer or songwriter.”

He fully expects her to pout or nudge him on the shoulder, but she just laughs. He likes the sound of it; merry and bell-like. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about it,” she tells honestly. “But I think I prefer to keep the hobby to myself, so don’t go around telling people.”

Annette has grown rather comfortable with the fact that he knows her secret. In quiet moments, she’s even allowed herself to hum a few tunes, scribble down lyrics and sing in his presence.

“A teacher, huh?” He considers the thought only briefly. “…I think you would enjoy it. Maybe one day, you’ll get to do just that.”

When she smiles, it reaches her eyes. Felix has supported every decision she’s made since she’s known him. It’s odd, considering what people say of him.

“Maybe,” she echoes. “At the very least, I’ll want to pass my knowledge onto my own children, if I’m ever lucky.”

He snorts. “Children? You already think that far ahead?”

She shoots him her usual pout this time. “Of course I do. You don’t?”

“Not when the war is still raging.”

She narrows her eyes at him in suspicion. “Is that just your way of saying you don’t want any?”

He chuckles at her expression and then shakes his head. “No. What I’m saying is that you should probably save a question like that for later. There’s no point asking it now.”

Her lips tug to a smirk, because she’s heard this promise before. “Maybe when the war is over?”

Felix knows it too, because he’s smiling as well. She’s adding it to her list as they speak, but a dark thought flashes – maybe there won’t be time after the war. If it came down to the two of them, he’d be damned if he makes it out and not her. All his promises would be empty.

“You better not die before then,” she pipes up, and even though her cheeks are half-stuffed with cake, she means it seriously. “I’ll be upset if you do. You’ll never get to hear the swamp beastie song either.”

He snorts and wonders how she read his mind just now. Of all things, he would hate to miss out on her singing too. “Hmph. That would be a shame. I suppose we’ll both have to make it out then.”

----------

Enbarr is a messy affair.

After a blistering effort, all the Empire soldiers have either fallen or retreated on their own accord. Dimitri enters Edelgard’s throne room to settle the war’s end and Felix takes the chance to clutch at a hastily bandaged cut above his shoulder to stop it from bleeding. He doesn’t bother calling Mercedes. She’s busy with dealing with a graver injury; Ingrid had nothing to cushion her fall when her Pegasus was shot down as she set off. She’s lucky to escape with a few fractures.

Sylvain stands nearby with a worried look. Ashe waits in silence with Dedue. Annette is nowhere in sight, but she’d been paired up with her dad. He reminds himself to find her later and make sure she’s uninjured. Goddess knows she can be more stubborn than he is at times.

When Dimitri emerges from the throne room, he nods to his peers. It’s the only signal they need. The Empire is finished, and just like that, they arrive at the moment they’ve long dreamed and waited, except it doesn’t end with raucous cheering and celebration. The sound of silence reigns above all.

Dimitri appears distraught more than anything. Beside him, Byleth’s expression is unreadable, but more so than usual.

Felix lets his gaze wanders aimlessly across the blood-stained palace, thinking now would be a good time for rest. The last thing he remembers before his vision turns black is the evening sky.

----------

When he finally comes to, his mind latches to the sound of humming. A sweet, lilting tune. He knows that sound from anywhere.

With a groan, he blinks the blur out of his eyes. Despite the steady throb in his head, ribs and legs, he pushes himself up anyway. The humming stops and her hand goes to his back to help him sit. He fixes her a soft gaze, thinking he wouldn’t mind waking up like this every morning and she’s the first thing he sees.

“You idiot,” is the first thing she says, naturally. Her smile is quickly replaced with a more serious expression to match her scolding. He braces himself for her reprimand. “You’re lucky, you know that? You lost a lot of blood out there. Thank goodness we found you when we did, otherwise you would be dead. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He’s hurt her. Just for that, he supposes he deserves it. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips quiver, but her anger doesn’t hold out for much longer. With him, it wasn’t meant to last. Annette can never fathom how slowly, and then somehow all at once, he became someone to lose.

“Don’t do it again,” she says, sounding defeated.

Felix softens his gaze. “I won’t.”

It’s all she needs to hear. She exhales deeply and sits at his side to embrace him. Her arms are shaking, he realizes. She’s desperate to feel him, and hear his heart beating. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her she’s pressing against one of his wounds, so he just rubs her back to soothe her.

When she pulls away, a smile graces her features once again.

“How long do I have to stay here?” he can’t help but ask. It’s nice they pitched a medical tent for him, but as far as his injuries go, he’d rather be out and about than be bound to a makeshift bed.

“Couple of days, probably,” she says. His expression sours, and she pokes him on the cheek. “Hey now, I was the one who healed you. I’m not about to let you waste my efforts.”

He scoffs, “I promise I’ll be careful.”

She’s still shaking her head, unfortunately. “Nope. Nice try, but you’re staying here until you get better. Besides, I know you, Felix. You’re itching to go back to the training grounds as we speak.”

He harrumphs like a petulant child. If he crossed his arms too, he could be mistaken for one. She takes it as a sign that his recovery is well in motion.

Afterwards, she updates him on the war’s end. Who’s alive and who’s not. How their classmates are faring – alive, but not entirely whole. Dimitri in a rough mental shape, but not spiralling as he once was. The Professor seems to be missing, claiming she has matters to investigate about the war’s origins. Even at a time of rest, she does not stop.

When Felix asks about her plans, her tone shifts slightly. She takes his hand and wraps it in hers.

“I’m going home to visit my mom. My father’s coming with me, actually.” She says it with a certain glee. A sense of pride, too. He’s proud of her as well, because she’s been wanting this since their days at the academy.

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

He inhales and exhales. By instinct, he squeezes her hand tighter. She chuckles at his reaction.

“We’ll see each other again, dummy,” she says, as if reading his mind. “There’s a lot I have to ask you now that the war is over. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

He smirks at the throwback and they talk until sundown when he’s hit with a wave of exhaustion. He knows when he wakes tomorrow, she’ll be gone like a distant dream, so he doesn’t let her go until she promises to write to him. How odd that he’s never given her a confession, and yet he’s comfortable requesting as such. She jokes that he’s becoming soft, but consents to the idea when he promises to do the same. After that, he memorizes her face and kisses the back of her hand. When he falls asleep, he hopes he dreams of her.

“Finally the world is at peace…” she whispers to herself, when she thinks he’s sleeping.

There’s silence, and then, very softly, she starts to sing.

----------

Dimitri’s coronation is three months later.

It will mark their first reunion since the war’s end. Most of them returned to their homes to resume their positions, help restoration efforts or bury the dead.

When the ceremony is underway, Annette stands with her father and uncle to represent the Dominic household. She spies Mercedes sitting at the front with Ashe and silently gives her a wave. In the front, Dimitri stands with the other dukes, most of them young and newly inducted. Felix and Sylvain are among them. Byleth stands by the throne too. She’s taken the role of the archbishop, but Annette likes to think she’s still their professor at heart.

Annette deliberately stares at new king of Faerghus. It’s obvious he still needs Byleth and that he depends on her – everyone depends on her, she’s the head of the church after all – but for him, it goes deeper than that. It’s as if he relies on her to keep him going, day after day. Like she’s all that holds him together.

It’s endearing to watch. Annette had been right about her suspicions all along.

Later, she wades through the crowd to find one of the people she’s missed the most. When she finds him, she lights up. Seeing him certainly feels like coming home. There’s a small crinkle in his eye when he finds her too. He barely gets out his snarky ‘hello’ when she takes his hand and pulls him outdoors for more privacy.

“Hasty, aren’t you?” he comments, even though he doesn’t resist.

Annette lets him go when there are no prying eyes to intervene. “You can stop me anytime, Duke Fraldarius,” she greets teasingly. She throws in a small curtsy when she pronounces his title.

He scoffs in mild disgust. “Ugh, I’ll have none of that.”

She laughs, warm and familiar. “Did you miss me?”

He wobbles his hand in uncertainty. “Meh. I hardly noticed you were gone,” he teases back.

She hits him on the shoulder, and then he catches her hand in his. “That’s too bad. I wanted to make it up to you.”

“Oh? And how are you planning to do that?”

She hums and muses out loud, “I could offer you a spar?”

“I think I’ve got enough soldiers at home to spar with.”

“What if I sing you a song then?”

He remembers the sound of her voice, all of a sudden. Soft lullabies she sang before he fell asleep. Strange lyrics she penned to distract him from war. Her soft voice offering peace to the screams in his sleep. When he looks at her and studies her face, he’s reminded of the small things she did to sustain him.

Impulsively, Felix leans closer, heart racing furiously in his chest.

She meets him halfway.

The kiss is soft, tentative and clumsy. It takes a moment to orient themselves to each other, but it hardly matters. He smells clean, not like resin or metal. She tastes like the bubbling champagne they served at the hall. Warmth unfurls in her chest and she grips the front of his shirt tighter when she realizes how much she’s missed him.

When they pull away, she smiles and tries to memorize the details of his face.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” she says the first thing in her mind. She’s acutely aware of how offbeat and un-romantic it sounds, but in a post-war period, it seems fitting. In return, he just chuckles.

He doesn’t say anything back, still not much for soft and soothing words. Instead, he pulls her again and kisses her deeper until all her senses and thoughts are filled with him.

Finally, they live in a world that knows peace. She looks forward to telling him stories, singing to him, getting him to laugh or smile, and asking him all the hard questions, but for now, this is enough.

----------

Thanks for reading! I paired these two up in my play through and it was worth it. I loved them so much I put it into writing. If you’ve made it this far, I sincerely hope you enjoyed the work. - Mint

#fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe3h #felix hugo fraldarius #annette #post timeskip #romance #fire emblem fanfiction #felianne #felannie

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idreamofhazel · 5 years

Text

The Boyking: Chapter 5

Masterpost

Characters/pairings: Dean, Bobby, Ash, Jo, Castiel; Dallas, Sam, Ruby (we’ve got a whole ensemble this chapter!)

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: This story is overall angsty. Read the masterpost description to get the full idea. I will put specific, important warnings on each chapter unless there are none.

A/N: Thank you all for your patience as I continue working on this story <3

At noon the next day, a rusted 1971 C10 pulled up in front of Bobby’s house - like most of the vehicles on Bobby’s lot, it had seen better days.

Bobby stepped out on his front porch, Dean trailing behind him. Bobby hollered across the front lot as the passengers opened their doors. “That truck made it here from Nebraska?”

Ash and Jo stepped out of the cab, Jo from the driver’s side.

Ash shut his door and gave the orange-tinged turquoise hood a couple of good pats. “This baby here would take us anywhere. I’ve added a few of my own enhancements.”

“He means we,” Jo said, coming up to the porch to hug Bobby. “And I put a full tank of gas in her as soon as I got your call last night.”

The two quickly embraced. When they had finished, Jo turned to Dean and simply said, “Hey.”

Dean replied with an uncomfortable smile.

Ash came up onto the porch hugging a large file to his chest, most of it hidden underneath one side of his unbuttoned cut-off flannel. He carefully looked around the lot before whispering, “We need to talk... inside.”

Bobby raised his brows at Dean, who mirrored the expression as he opened the front door to let the guests in.

Dean took their small duffel bags and placed them down the hall as they gathered in the sitting room, Bobby offering refreshments for the travelers. He came out of the kitchen with a couple glasses of water as Dean came back to the sitting room.

Dean grabbed Bobby’s desk chair, pulled it close to the coffee table, and sat down. “So, Ash, what’ve you found?”

Ash dropped the file onto the table with a loud slam then opened it somewhere in the middle. He took a paper-clipped stack of pages out of the pile and slid it to Bobby. “Lightning patterns.” Then he took another set of notebook pages stapled together, handing them to Dean. “Other abnormal weather patterns.”

And then he took out another stack of pages and dropped them in front of himself. “And last but not least, unexplainable events.”

“What kind of events?” Dean asked.

“A whole fishing crew in Alaska went blind, for starters,” Ash said, pulling another set of papers out of the file. “I’ve made notes on patterns of events, possible connections. It seems like demonic activity to me.”

Dean coughed and shifted in his seat. He had been ruminating on how he would break the news to them. Maybe if they were already guessing that something big was brewing, they wouldn’t be so surprised when he dropped the news. He felt he had taken it rather well but he was used to dealing with Sam’s… position, all things considered.

“What do you guys think this all means?” he asked, testing the waters.

Ash looked Dean in the eyes, pointing roughly to his folder. “A war is coming. Hell is brewing something, and it ain’t no Miller Lite.”

Dean could feel Bobby’s heavy gaze on him, not so gently prompting him to go on and spill the news.

He spoke hesitantly. “Look, I may-- I may know what’s going on.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Jo’s tone was harsh, and she stared hard at Dean, her jaw pulled tight.

Dean’s phone rang before he could answer. He looked at the caller ID and stood. “Sorry, give me a second.” He answered the phone as he walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Cas, what’s up?”

“Where are you?” the angel asked brusquely.

“I’m at Bobby’s, why?”

Castiel sighed. “Ok. I’ll see you in a second.”

“What--�� Dean said, but the angel had already hung up. No sooner had he put his phone back in his pocket, a knock came from the front door.

Bobby, Ash, and Jo all stood, ready to draw their weapons.

Dean emerged from the kitchen with his hands up, signaling to them to relax. “I think it’s Cas.”

Dean walked through the house to the front door, peeping through the window. When he saw his trench-coat wearing friend, he opened the door.

“Hey what’s going--”

Castiel walked straight through the door, almost running into Dean as he did so. He pulled a jar of blood out from under his coat and unscrewed the lid. He dipped three fingers in and began drawing a sigil by the door.

“You mind telling me why you’re redecorating my house?” Bobby asked, suddenly in the foyer.

“Warding,” Castiel stated, and that was the only response they got.

They stood around watching and waiting for a good ten or fifteen minutes, Castiel continuing his tasks until he had at least one sigil by each potential entry point on the first floor.

When he had finished, he came into the sitting room with the rest of them and handed the jar to Bobby. “Touch them up every few days.”

Bobby set the jar down on a table. “You mind telling us what’s going on?”

“You mind telling us who you are?” Jo asked, irritated.

“My name is Castiel, I’m an angel of the Lord, and I need to speak to Dean about an important, urgent matter,” Castiel stated plainly.

“Sweet fancy Moses,” Ash exclaimed. “We’re meeting a real live angel?”

“What the hell, Dean?!” Jo exclaimed. “I thought you said they were dangerous!”

Dean now getting exasperated, ran a hand over his face, hoping his nerves weren’t showing. He didn’t want to drop the news now, in the middle of a surprise visit, but by the looks on their faces, they - Jo especially - wouldn’t stay much longer without an explanation.

“Okay, just, chill, okay? This one is good, I promise. I’ll explain more later, but you’re right. Something big is happening. It’s uh… it’s the apocalypse.”

Jo looked horrified while Ash appeared as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

“So it is him?” Jo asked, a new, more hostile anger forming on her face.

“Dean,” Castiel warned. “I don’t have unlimited amounts of time.”

“Ok, ok, just, hang on a second. Bobby, will you explain things to them, just give me a couple of minutes?”

Bobby nodded solemnly, allowing Dean to turn around and face Castiel. Only a few things made the angel this impatient and insensitive, and Dean wasn’t necessarily in a hurry to find out the reason behind his behavior this time.

“Is there a good place to talk?” Castiel asked.

Dean nodded. “Follow me.”

Ash’s excited questions to Bobby and Jo’s angry remarks faded as Dean led Castiel through the house to the basement door, down the stairs, and into Bobby’s homemade panic room. Dean opened the thick, metal door and stepped aside to let Castiel in.

With the door shut and sealed, Dean looked to his friend. “What the hell, Cas? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I know,” Cas said empathetically before his tone returned to one of business. “So I take it you went to see Sam?”

“Yeah. Wish I would’ve known a little more before going in,” Dean said pointedly.

“What did Sam say about the apocalypse?” Castiel asked.

Dean studied the angel’s curious face, making note of the intensity he had tried to hide in his question - and why was Castiel asking him this question?

“Cas, you know I trust you but-- I don’t trust your family. I need to know what’s going on with you first.”

Castiel seemed to consider Dean’s position for a moment before responding, and decided Dean was right. “I’ve been doing various assignments for heaven, mostly surveillance. But now I have the task of tracking down whoever stole an angel blade that was being kept here on earth. I believe you knew the owner, Bela Talbot.”

Dean’s eyes flashed with recognition. He remembered Bela clearly, and it made sense she’d have such a rare, valuable item in her collection.

“Yeah, but what’s the big deal about an angel blade stolen off a black market dealer? I think we have bigger things to worry about.”

“It’s more about who stole it and why than what they stole. My higher ups seem to think it's all connected.”

Dean nodded. “And Bela?”

“Missing.”

“Damn.” Dean began shaking his head, pacing a little. He wouldn’t say he had liked the woman, but he had appreciated her unique set of skills even if they had been used against him. And he had been relieved when Sam nullified the contract on her soul, something about reforming rules for minors, or whatever. It would suck for all that to happen just to have her killed a few years later.

“I would like you to help me find her, and possibly find who stole the artifact,” Castiel said, interrupting Dean’s train of thought.

Dean stood in place, thinking of Dallas being alone in Hell, wondering if she could wait a couple more days. She was, of course, a free agent; she could leave without speaking to Dean, and he would not stop her, but it was Sam he was worried about. He needed to know if Sam would keep his word.

“Something is troubling you,” Castiel stated.

Dean returned to reality. “No, I just have something I need to do. I’ll tell you what-- I’ll go with you today, but I have to talk to Sam again sometime tomorrow.”

Castiel hesitated before answering. “I’ll do my best to return you in time,” he finally said.

Back upstairs, Dean could hear Jo angrily talking with Bobby as he approached the sitting room door. When he entered the room, all talking stopped as they each looked at him, expecting answers.

“Something just came up. I have to leave to help Cas. It should only take a couple of days.”

“You’re leaving without explaining yourself?” Jo asked angrily.

“Apocalypse business. Sorry. I’ll catch up to you later this week and explain, I promise,” Dean said. “I’ll come to the roadhouse.

“You better,” she said. “Your chances of getting help are slim anyay.” She walked past Dean, moving her shoulder just in time to avoid hitting him, and walked out the door.

Ash gave Dean and Bobby an apologetic look. “Guess we’re not hanging around, sorry Bobby.”

The old man shrugged. “I expected worse.”

Ash chuckled. “Anything else you want me to look at, Dean?”

“Yeah, do me a favor and keep an eye on those events, eye witness accounts would be great if we can get them.”

Ash nodded. “Will do. We hear lots of stories at the Roadhouse, shouldn’t be too hard. Oh and Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Jo. You know how she is.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. I think I’m more worried about her mother.”

Ash just laughed and patted Dean on the shoulder as he walked out.

Dallas sat cross legged on the four-poster bed, spinning a fire stoker that she grabbed off the fireplace at the other end of the room. She had been waiting for a stray demon to break into her room but sadly, none had been so brave. She stopped spinning the stoker, sighing before looking over the expanse of the bed. It was bigger than any bed she had slept on before; the whole room was luxurious, opulent even, compared to her usual accommodations. Curious about the size of the bed, she reached over to her right to set the stoker on the bedside table. She then scooted a little towards the foot of the bed, laid down, and stretched her arms and legs out like star. She couldn’t reach the edges.

She heard knocking at the door and startled back up into a sitting position. She grabbed the stoker, hopped off the bed, and stood, ready to fight as she called out, “Who is it?”

She was surprised to see Sam Winchester as the door opened. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

A list of painful, terrifying things that Sam could be planning ran through her mind quickly before she focused back on the present. “This is your… castle, or whatever.”

Sam now stood just a few feet from her. “It’s more of a kingdom really, and you’re a guest, so I’ll knock before entering.”

Dallas squinted at Sam, confused, gripping the stoker tighter.

Noticing the weapon in her hand, he took a step back and put up his hands. “I came to talk. I don’t have anything on me.” He slowly turned in a circle, showing her empty hiding places for weapons.

“Something tells me you don’t need them,” Dallas said.

“Well, yes, there’s that. You don’t happen to have psychic abilities do you?”

Dallas made a humorous scoffing sound. “Full, red-blooded human here.”

Sam nodded, noticing the veiled insult. “Well, I came here to tell you not to go wandering around. For your own safety,” he said.

“My safety?” Dallas repeated, contempt floating under her words.

“Speaking hunter to hunter--”

Dallas made another scoffing sound which Sam chose to ignore before continuing.

“You know demons don’t like hunters. And you know demons can be… impulsive. So, I think it’s best for you to only go out when escorted by myself or Ruby.”

Dallas looked him up and down, sat the stoker onto the table, then crossed her arms. “Your demons don’t know I’m here, do they? And I bet they didn’t know Dean was here, either. Because the only other option I’m hearing is that your demons don’t listen to your orders.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth turned up again. “I can tell you’ve got good instincts.”

“I don’t need compliments from you.”

Sam tilted his chin and grit his teeth, his jaw flexing as he tried to keep his annoyance in check. “Right. Well, that’s all I wanted to say. Do you need anything?”

“No,” Dallas said quickly, but her stomach betrayed her, the growl echoing against the stone walls.

“I’ll have Ruby bring you dinner. Anything else?” Sam asked.

“I--” Dallas had thought to ask the whereabouts of her bag but stopped herself. “No, I don’t think so.”

Dallas didn’t like the way Sam waited, watching her with a look in his eyes as if he knew she had meant to say something else, as if he were reading her mind. She thought of what food she wanted instead.

“Well, if you do think of anything, let Ruby know,” Sam said before turning away and leaving.

This time, the door shut with force, and Dallas smiled at the small victory of annoying the King of Hell. She was beginning to see the cracks in Sam’s façade already.

But as much as dinner sounded tempting, she wasn’t about to wait around to be checked on again - Sam left the door to her suite unlocked, and Dallas wanted to take a look around Hell.

She opened her door into a dimly lit hall that extended out into darkness on either side. She took a left, figuring that direction was as good as any. As she passed lit torches perched along stone walls, Dallas wondered why Hell hadn’t invested in better lighting. It was near impossible to see far enough in front of herself to know if anyone were coming.

Dallas slowed her walk, opting to use her sense of hearing over her sight, but the halls of hell were eerily quiet. She expected distant echoes of tortured screams, chains rattling against stone, and cracks of whips, maybe the rush of fire as well. But she only heard the scuffing of her own boots against rock flooring. She didn’t smell anything, either. Now that was the biggest surprise. She did smell smoke as she passed more torches on the walls, taking a right down another passage, but she didn’t smell burning, rotting flesh. Honestly, Hell was underwhelming.

She came across an interesting door, stopping in front of it with a satisfied smile on her face. It was a bit taller and wider than the one to her room, and the whole thing was metal instead of wood. She noticed an unusual symbol on the large doorknob and she reached her hand out to pull open the door but was yanked backwards by someone grabbing her shirt from behind.

“Where do you think you’re going!?” Ruby growled, stepping in front of her and slamming her against a wall.

Dallas kept her head from smacking against the stone, and when she had gathered her bearings, she blew some of her hair out of face. “Ah, just the demon I wanted to see,” she said, smirking.

Ruby grabbed Dallas’ arm tightly, dragging her down the hall.

“I’ll go willingly,” Dallas said, but Ruby didn’t lighten her grip.

“I can take it from here.”

It was Sam’s voice coming from close behind, and Ruby ground to a halt, seemingly genuinely surprised as his form left the shadows and came into the light.

“I caught her wandering around,” Ruby spat, shoving Dallas forward.

“I know. She hasn’t been seen by anyone but me,” Sam stated.

Dallas squinted, immediately suspicious of Sam. Had he been following her?

“Maybe we should keep a lock on the door,” Ruby said.

“That won’t be necessary. But since we’re all here, Dallas, you might as well tell Ruby what you want to eat.”

Dallas had expected Sam to read her mind earlier, so she was oddly disappointed that she had to say what she wanted. She thought for a second, then said, “I’d like some tacos.”

She waited for a reaction in Sam, one that revealed he had expected her order, but if he knew, he made no indication of it.

He looked at Ruby. “Go. I’ll take her back to her room.”

Ruby stayed silent this time but made sure to show Sam how much she hated being an errand girl by the glare on her face before leaving. Dallas was already sick of Ruby’s attitude; she wondered how Sam didn’t snap at her every time they spoke.

“Follow me, and stay close,” Sam said.

You wish, Dallas thought to herself as she followed Sam back out into the halls. It didn’t take long to reach her room. Dallas kept track of the turns Sam took, making note of every unique crack in a wall or a stone with out of place that could act as landmarks. When they stopped in front of her door again, Dallas was sure she could find her way back to her room by herself if... when… she went exploring again.

Sam came inside with her after he’d gestured for her to enter first. She could sense his annoyance. She stood, watching as he closed the door, waiting for the lecture.

“Why would you go wandering around?” Sam said.

Ah, there’s the impatience, Dallas thought to herself. She stood smug as she watched Sam become increasingly exasperated.

“Well?” he added.

“Why do you think I owe you an answer?” Dallas finally said.

“I guess you don’t,” Sam calmly stated. “But it’s your life on the line.”

“Why do you even want me here if your demons will kill me on sight?”

Sam studied her a moment before answering. “Well I guess now is as good a time as any to ask you my questions, I had hoped for a less hostile setting, but I’m sure you have things to get back to.”

“Wait, you actually want to sit and chat?”

“Well… yes. That’s what I said before.”

Dallas almost couldn't believe her luck - this could be the first step in reaching her goal. But maybe keeping him off-balance was the better play. "I think you're right. This isn't a good time."

“No?”

“No. I’m hungry. And Ruby will be coming back soon. And there is actually something else I need.”

“Ok. What is it?”

“I had a bag with me when Ruby kidnapped me. I would like it back, then I’ll sit down and talk with you.”

“I should be able to have her pick it up while she’s out now. I’m sure she knows where it is,” Sam said.

“Perfect.” Dallas smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Sam stood silent; he appeared as if he didn’t know what else to say but didn’t want to leave the room quite yet. Dallas drummed her fingers on her crossed arms, watching him say and do nothing.

“Well,” he finally said, “I guess I’ll leave you alone for the evening. Goodnight.”

Dallas raised her eyebrows in response, and Sam took the cue to leave.

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Everything: @lostnliterature @french-the-llama @shamelesslydean @akshi8278 @amanda-teaches @angelus320 @atc74 @authoressskr @bambi95-blog @because-imma-lady-assface @blanketmadeofstarss-blog-blog @brewsthespirit-blog @britney8793 @calaofnoldor @cutedictionary @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @feelmyroarrrr @frenchybell @growningupgeek @gryffindorable713 @hanginwithmanerds @holyfuckloueh @impala-dreamer @its-not-candy @jayankles @jesspfly @luciisthebest @megansescape @mereka18 @mjdoc90 @mogaruke @moonlitskinwalker @mrswhozeewhatsis @pizza-boy-cas @sadist-fangirl23 @sea040561 @seenashwrite @serienjunkiegirl @sis-tafics @skybinx-blog @super-not-naturall @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @there-must-be-a-lock @un-autor-anonim @wingedcatninja @wordstothewisereaders @just-another-busyfangirl @ericaprice2008 @immafangirlmess

The Boyking: @wildfirewinchester @babypieandwhiskey @butiaintgonnaloveem @just-a-normal-eccentric @justballoonfishthings @purplecatterpiller @seljepw @oneshoeshort @wendibird

#supernatural fanfiction #boyking!sam #boyking!au #sam winchester angst #the boyking

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