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distinctlywhumpthing · 18 days

Note

idk about you but i would literally sell my firstborn for a future/more-recovered-aiden-chapter 👀

~ 🍯

Once upon a time, the scene of Aiden waking up in the back of Leo's van full of painting tools, thinking for a second he was seeing in monochrome would not leave me alone. Three years ago today, I posted the first part of Unintentional to start telling that story <3

As a postiversary present to everyone from the beginning (seriously, this ask is from 2022), here's a timeline jump. (Don't tell Leo, he's a real stickler for order.) Thanks for sticking with me and the boys <3

More Than This

Masterlist

Snap.

Aiden huffs, twisting and grinding the broken pencil tip through the last stroke even as it threatens to tear through the paper under his force.

He should be able to do this. It’s all he ever does now. Practice speaking, practice reading, practice writing. Follow the plans for eating, for exercising, for sleeping. He shouldn’t complain, he finally knows what to be. There was a time he’d have let a routine like this support him like it was his spine. He was given a role to play but all he does is just that: pretend. He hasn’t made progress in weeks. The only thing he knows is how precisely he is failing.

Across the room, Leo stops typing. “Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been at it for a while.”

He doesn’t need to look to know that Leo will have that concerned crease between his brows, mouth turned down at the corners as he tries to assess what the problem is this time. Aiden is nothing but problems.

“I’m fine,” he mutters but of course Leo is coming over. Would have no matter what he’d said.

Leo fills a glass at the sink and turns to lean against the counter across the island as he sips it. Aiden doesn’t want to see whatever look Leo is giving him that will just crumble his resolve. The triangles and circles on the page blur in and out of focus as he blinks back tears. Tears from the strain of making his damaged, useless brain process not-even-fucking-letters for the last few hours. Nothing else.

When Leo finishes his water, he fills a glass for Aiden, slides it in front of him. “I’ll do some work with you then.”

“No.” He definitely can’t look at Leo now.

Leo takes a measured pause.

The apology is on the tip of Aiden’s tongue but he keeps his jaw locked. Harder to stave off are the physical reactions. His body wants to shrink away, to flinch and hide and beg and be hurt and held. He tightens his fist around the pencil, pulling it into his lap to hide that he’s shaking.

“I know you want to make progress but it’s okay to take breaks.” Leo makes his voice gentle, tiptoeing through the minefield between them. "It’s not going to send you back, you’ve been working hard.”

“Nnnno. I…mmm—” He shakes his head as if he could shake off the rising frustration coming up to tighten around his temples, his throat, his chest. He’s been trying to avoid the stuttered conjunction between every word, always made worse by times like this. Harrison guaranteed he would never get out of a painful situation too quickly.

Leo steps up to the other side of the island, leaning onto his elbows to lower himself into Aiden’s line of sight. “C’mon…”

He shakes his head, can’t trust himself to speak coherently. He’s being stubborn and stupid. Harrison would have threatened him by now if he hadn’t already backhanded him. He never dreamed of pulling something like this back with Archer or the Songs.

“Alright, hon.” Leo gave him one last long-suffering smile and turned back to the sink.

Aiden swallowed a sob, furiously blinking away hot tears prickling his eyes. Leo was never going to push him more than a little. Lead him to whatever line he’d drawn or found, offer to help him step over it, but be the first to abandon the idea if it was too much.

“Why?”

Leo shut off the tap. “Pardon?” He dries his hands on the bright salmon-pink tea towel threaded through the pull for the dishwasher. Delia says I shouldn’t be so allergic to real colors, he explained when Aiden pulled it out from the perfectly folded stack of muted earth-toned cotton in the cabinet.

“Why?” Aiden repeats, voice strained by the tightening in his chest. “I…don’t…mmm—” He squeezes his eyes shut, pushes past the stupid mumbling. “Why?”

“Why what, hon?” Frustratingly calm and earnest, so eager to help in whatever he can.

Aiden wants to scream. It’s not fair, it isn’t Leo’s fault, but whatever has been sparked rages inside him beyond his control. “Why…do…mmm…mmm—” He mashes his lips together, forcing his lungs to fill with air. He will not start crying.

Leo tilts his head to the side. “Why do I…help?” Aiden shakes his head, huffing out a breath that is perilously close to a sob. “Why do I…care?”

It puts a rock right in the middle of his throat. He lifts his chin a fraction.

Defiant despite having literally no ground to stand on, Harrison used to taunt when Aiden was strung up on his table.

“Because I do. I do care about you…”

Aiden’s heart skitters in his chest. He looks away, all the wind gone from his sails because he’s as easily swayed as a feather. No. He won’t be weak, pathetic, and needy. He’s angry right now. Frustrated and bitter.

“There’s no one reason—”

“I…don’t—mmm—mmm—” He clenches his teeth together until they creak in the back of his jaw, blinking away more of the hot tears that refuse to fucking stop pooling in his eyes.

Leo stands there calmly, crease between his brows confirming that he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. He’s worried. Always so worried and concerned and caring.

Because he cares.

Aiden stands, pushing away from the island and Leo. “I-I-I-I—” God, he wants to break something when it's like this. A wall he is just banging his head against, all the while becoming less coherent.

“Breathe,” Leo says, slowly rounding the end of the island toward him. “It will come. Just—”

“No. I…mmm…don’t…w-w-mmm—Fuck!” He slams his fist down on the counter.

Leo doesn’t even flinch.

Why should he? Of course he wouldn’t flinch.

Aiden moves away from him, starts pacing back and forth. He wishes he could run, pound his feet into pavement until it dulls whatever is going on inside his head.

“Aiden—“

“Not…mmm’my name.”

Leo’s expression falters.

It’s a low blow. Aiden knows it, they both know it. All it does is deepen the disparity between them. Making him all the more desperate as Leo regains his composure.

“If you want a different name—if you want me to stop calling you that, all you have to do is tell me.”

How can Leo be even calmer than before?

A sob escapes Aiden’s throat before he can swallow it. He turns away, circling the island to put it between them again. He doesn’t want Leo trying to comfort him. He doesn’t want it and he doesn’t deserve it.

“I don’t want you to keep the name just because at the time you thought it was my place to give it. That’s not how I saw it then and that’s certainly not how I see things now.”

Shame is oil on the fire, it only burns hotter. “Doesn’t…mmm’matter…”

“It does to me. I’ve never seen you as a Companion or treated you like one. I don’t expect anything, you know that.”

“Fuck…you.” He surprises himself but pushes on anyway. Even steps forward so they’re closer, eye-to-eye, bold with the slab of stone between them. “That…doesn’t—doesn’t mmm’make a…difference. Doesn’t mmm’make..mmm’me…different—”

“Wait, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“You—”

“I didn’t mean—”

He raises his voice to speak over Leo. “I’m’mmm…that’s…what-what…I am…”

Leo waits to make sure he’s finished this time. The stretching silence makes his shouting seem ridiculous and Aiden burns under the unearned patience, the undeserved consideration.

“I know,” Leo finally says.

“If you…don’t…mmm’w-w-want…this…why?”

Leo’s face falls and Aiden almost goes with it. He backs away from the gaping hole in his resolve. One misstep and he’ll be at the bottom of it, down on his knees. Putting a chink in Leo’s composure is no kind of feat. It only makes him feel that much closer to coming apart entirely.

“Please,” Leo moves around the island, trying to get onto the same side as Aiden again. “It’s not that black and white—”

“Mmm…yes…it-is.”

“But—”

“You-you…mmm…hate…it—” He points at Leo. Anyone else would have broken his accusatory finger. “You…hate…this…mmm’what…I am’mmm—” He backs away shaking his head.

“Wait, no. Aiden, that’s not what I meant. You misunderstood—”

“No!” He wants to hit the ceiling. Better yet, put his whole body through a wall and get the fuck away from here. From these feelings. Leo wouldn’t follow if he went up to his room. Not even if he slammed the door and started breaking things. But he can’t. He’s only acting brave enough to set this fire, he could never leave the blaze unattended. Just like he’s only acting like he’s recovering into a real person.

It’s all just acting. None of it is real.

Why?

He’s trapped and boiling, glaring at the charcoal-grey cabinets. He once put his fist through another one. A honeyed pine varnish with dark grain, an arched frame around the flimsy middle panel of each one. Hardly took any force to slam through it but he put his whole weight behind his fist anyway.

Of course, Leo’s damn cabinets are solid wood.

He cries out, turning away from Leo to slide down the cabinet he hasn’t so much as dented, cradling his hand against his chest. No point holding anything back now. He’s sobbing by the time he hits the floor, curling up tightly.

When Leo comes over, Aiden’s reaction slips out before he can catch it. He shrinks back, sobs turning to whimpers. “Please…mmm’sorry, mmm’sorry…mmm’good—” He can almost see himself from above, staring up at Leo with those distrustful, unblinking eyes. Lips still moving through the shapes of pleas he’s crying too hard to vocalize.

He hates that less-than-person. How little it controls and how much power it still holds. His shameless meltdown only puts him back exactly where he belongs. He’ll never be anything different.

“I know, I know. You are good.” Leo kneels carefully, holding his hand out, palm up, between them. “You don’t have to be sorry, it’s all good.”

Aiden shakes his head, gulping in air between sobs, knuckles throbbing. “I didn’t—didn’t mmm’mean…” He didn’t know if the apology was for trying to ruin Leo’s kitchen or for exploding or for falling back on old habits.

“I know, it’s okay. We’re good. Come on, let me give you a hand?”

He swallows and tries to take a deep breath. Tries to compose himself, tries to get his mind to stop spinning through replaying and catastrophizing. He just wants—He needs—

“I—I used…t’be mmm’more than…this,” he blurts.

Leo stops waiting for Aiden to take his hand and slides in next to him against the cabinets instead. They sit in silence long enough that Aiden starts to wonder if Leo even heard him but Leo finally says, “I know.”

Aiden bites his lip, afraid to look at Leo but he can’t look too closely at his hand or he’ll draw unwarranted concern.

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me,” Leo says after another long pause. “I care about you. I’m here for all of it and I’m not going anywhere. I think maybe you know that or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay, hon. We're figuring things out as we go."

Leo always means what he says so Aiden looks up, it’s for a different kind of reassurance. Leo gives him his half-smile, reaching out to squeeze the back of his neck. Goosebumps run down Aidne’s spine and he drops his head onto his knees, hiding his face. Leo wraps an arm around his back.

Aiden has long since stopped preparing himself for Leo to pull away before he’s ready by the time Leo says, “So, how about that break?”

He lifts his head from Leo’s shoulder, trying to gauge what he means.

Leo pulls him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go for a drive.”

And his heart falls.

Masterlist

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps

@batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight

@whumps-and-bumps @i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney (og asker?)

#bbu #bbu adjacent #recovery whump #dubious caretaker #petulant whumpee #pet whump #box boy whump #internalized ableism tw

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imtrashraccoon · 8 months

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Been looking forward to this all month! I rediscovered that it is very hard to write spicy stuff while listening to a classic Markiplier video...everything hurts from laughing now. Side note, did anyone else watch the most recent Lackadaisy short "Stratagem"? It's pretty much unrelated to this chapter but I thought it was funny!

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Free Space - Glow

Word Count: 2,886

Feat. Dust & Nightmare!

The castle was absolutely massive and while you'd explored quite a bit of it, you had the feeling you'd only scratched the surface. Pretty much every room was massive and filled with expensive furniture. You basically felt like you were a mouse that broke into a mansion and was adopted by its occupants.

Your bedroom had a queen size bed, a fireplace, a small but comfortable couch, at least a dozen different pillows and blankets, a walk in closet, and even an on-suite bathroom. The whole room felt larger than your entire apartment had been and it was all yours.

You hadn't left your room, let alone your bed for several days, except when you had to look after your human needs. At first, Nightmare hadn't let anyone bother you, but after the first day and once you'd recovered from the shock, he eventually allowed the others to come visit you.

You were pretty sure there had been an argument over who would get to see you first but ultimately, Axe was your first visitor. You didn't know how that had come about and you were too exhausted to ask. He practically fussed over you like a mother hen, except it was even worse than when you were sick. You weren't complaining yet though, as you'd really missed him. He took it upon himself to make sure you were never hungry and seemed to always have something he wanted you to try.

Killer was next, which you weren't surprised about in the slightest. He seemed to be up to his usual antics, although slightly toned down because you were bed bound. He tried out a bunch of new jokes, all of which ranged from unfunny to cringe inducing, but you'd be lying if you said you hated it. He also was a lot more touchy than usual, although it was in an affectionate rather than sleazy way.

You saw very little of Dust though, which was a bit strange, but not unusual for him. He always had acted kind of distant with you but had warmed up over your time knowing each other. Unfortunately, now he seemed like he had regressed significantly and was avoiding you. Then, you woke up in the middle of the night one time with him sitting on the floor against your bed, holding your hand and tracing small circles over your knuckles. He seemed rather embarrassed when he realized he'd woken you up but you couldn't be upset with him. At least he'd come by a few times when you were actually awake since.

Today you'd decided to try to do some reading to distract yourself. It seemed like you were adjusting well to this new environment but you weren't sleeping well on your own. You kept getting flashbacks of the day your world broke down and nearly had to beg Nightmare to help. Whatever he'd done had been effective since you were sleeping without any bad dreams, although you weren't getting any dreams either, or at least you couldn't remember if you were.

Nightmare had a massive library and easily hundreds of books that he had collected from various worlds over...however long he'd been alive. You'd never asked how old any of the boys were actually, let alone him. There was also plenty of cozy seating in the library and even a couple of nooks you could hide in if you didn't want to be bothered.

You had sat down in the main seating area today with the first of high fantasy series that Nightmare had personally recommended. It was a change of pace from your usual literature but change was good. It helped keep your mind off of...everything.

The issue was that you weren't able to concentrate on any of the words and had to restart a chapter multiple times with no luck. At some point you found yourself staring into the soft glowing flame of a candle that you certainly hadn't lit when you sat down here.

There wasn't anything you could have done to save your world and you knew that it wasn't the boys' fault that the world code had become unstable. The way Nightmare explained it, once Monsterkind was freed from the Underground, the story had run its course. Essentially, it was only a matter of time before everything broke down like that.

You still felt awful about it though. You wished with all your soul that you could've saved others or even prevented the destruction entirely. You understood quite clearly now what people who survived horrible accidents where lots of other people died felt like.

Hearing someone scuff their shoes across the carpet, you looked over sharply to basically come face to face with Dust. He had a concerned look on his skull, although it quickly morphed into one of relief when you made eye contact with him.

"are you okay?" he asked.

You grimaced and looked away. "I've...been better..." you murmured.

He sat down next to you and wrapped an arm over your shoulders in a slightly tentative side hug. "i'm not good at the whole comfort thing..." he muttered in your ear. "so just tell me if i'm being a nuisance, okay?"

You nodded but remained silent. He was selling himself sort in your personal opinion as just being there for someone was still a valid form of comfort. So what if he didn't make you food or make jokes to cheer you up?

After several quiet minutes, he gave your shoulder a light squeeze. "would a distraction help? we could play some chess if you want?"

"Sure, why not? So long as you give me a sporting chance anyways."

He chuckled and his mismatched eyelights seemed to flicker with untold thoughts of mischief. "i can't promise that but i'll try, bean. i'll be back with the game in a sec." He stood up and teleported away before you could retort.

You rolled your eyes at no one in particular and put your abandoned book away. You'd have to try reading it another time it seemed.

Dust reappeared a few seconds later with a small box and an intricate game board tucked under one arm. He started to set up the game on the coffee table and you quickly realized that this was the most beautiful Chess set you'd ever seen. The pieces seemed to be made of polished ivory and all had gold detailing. You weren't sure if the board itself was also ivory or something else like marble, but it was just as beautiful as the pieces were.

"It's gorgeous..." you whispered.

He nodded, "i got it recently since i enjoyed playing the game with you so much. i haven't had anyone to play with though..."

You couldn't help but frown as he sat down next to you again. "The others don't like Chess?"

"nah, axe has no interest as there's too much to focus on and killer can't sit still for more than two seconds to even try." He scratched the side of his skull before adding, "i haven't actually asked nightmare, but i don't know if he'd even be interested when he's so busy all the time."

You hummed thoughtfully as the game began. Dust had assigned the white pieces to you for seemingly no particular reason, not that you minded as it just meant you got to go first.

The game went on a lot longer than you thought it would. Compared to the last time you'd played, he didn't seem to be trying to win, or at least not actively trying. He wasn't resorting to making obviously bad moves though, so you didn't feel like he was babying you at least. Still, you weren't about to give him a pass just because he was being nice. No, you were playing to win.

At some point during that game, you saw Dust glance over at something out of the corner of your eye. When you looked up though, you realized that Nightmare had entered the library at some point and was now watching the both of you play. Maybe he was interested in Chess afterall? With the way his cyan eyelight was studying how the pieces moved across the board, you felt inclined to believe that he was.

If Dust was bothered by having an audience, he didn't act like it and just continued to play as if nothing was different. You were less successful at doing so as you couldn't help but wonder if Nightmare would think less of you if you made a silly mistake. He didn't make any teasing comments, or any comments really, until Dust inevitably won the game.

"Would either of you be willing to let me play a round?" Nightmare asked, glancing between you and Dust.

You shrugged and glanced over at Dust, only to catch the briefest glance of his surprised expression before he carefully masked it again.

He nodded and started to set up the pieces again. "sure, if you really want to." He glanced at you with a silent question on his metaphorical lips that you answered with a small nod.

You didn't mind tapping out for a game if it meant you'd get to see two of your friends mentally duke it out. So, you scooted a bit closer to Dust in order to make room for Nightmare on the couch, which left you sitting between both skeletons.

Dust finished setting up the pieces, interestingly with the white ones facing him this time, and glanced at Nightmare. "we were just playing for fun earlier, so what are the stakes?" His tone was quiet but there was an underlying competitive edge to it now too.

Nightmare got an intrigued expression on his face and he tapped his clavicle thoughtfully. His gaze turned to you and he gave you a look that could only be described as devious. "I can sense that you're feeling down, my dear. So," he looked over at Dust as his grin widened, "why don't we play for who gets to cuddle with the human?"

"What...?" You could feel your cheeks grow rather warm at the idea, although a small part of you almost leapt for joy. "You can't be serious?"

Dust didn't even hesitate and his eyelights seemed to burn brighter with determination. "deal," he confirmed and moved his first piece.

Nightmare chuckled quietly and gave you a suggestive look, which only served to fluster you further. You really had no preference on who won, although Nightmare was quite good at cuddling, while Dust generally seemed a bit adverse to most physical contact. You just hoped that whoever lost wouldn't be too upset by it.

It quickly became apparent that Dust was actually trying to win and he wasn't pulling the intellectual punches. You could tell that Nightmare knew how to play but that he seemed a bit rusty. He wasn't a bad player by any means, he probably could beat you anyways, but he seemed to be forgetting to utilize quite a few of his pieces when it mattered most.

As such, you weren't surprised when Dust managed to win. You saw it coming several turns in advance once he'd captured most of Nightmare's useful pieces, especially because his smile grew wider the longer it went on.

When he'd finally managed to corner Nightmare's king, he smirked at you and slid an arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him. You let him and couldn't help but giggle when he did so. You admittedly teased Nightmare a little bit by sticking out your tongue, although he didn't seem too put off.

"How about a rematch?" he asked Dust.

"sure."

The two skeletons played again with Dust winning once again. He chuckled and his smile became more cocky now.

You were suitably impressed with his skill and gave him a congratulatory pat on the arm. He had other ideas though and gently tilted your chin so you'd look at him again. He then pressed a chaste kiss against your lips before releasing you.

While you hadn't expected Dust to go that far, you would be lying if you said you didn't like it. When you glanced at Nightmare though, your heart did a little somersault.

He wore a neutral expression on his skull and if it weren't for the way his left eye socket was narrowed slightly, you wouldn't have known he was frustrated. Whether it was from losing twice in a row, the way Dust was now obviously taunting him, or both, you couldn't tell. Although, you could tell that despite his outwardly cool demeanor, there was a layer of danger lurking underneath the surface.

"Let's go again," he said quietly.

Dust shrugged and set up the board again. "sure, if you're willing to lose again," he teased.

The tension was palpable between them as the game began. You noticed Nightmare seemed to be ultra focused this time and moved his pieces a bit slower so he could be sure he wasn't making a foolish decision.

You didn't want him to actually get upset if he lost again. It was obvious that Dust wasn't going easy on him though, so what could you do?

Between turns, you got a bit of a cheeky idea. You started with snuggling a bit closer to Dust and lightly running your fingers over his ribcage through his shirt. At first, he didn't seem to really notice what you were doing but when he did, he gently squeezed your waist and nuzzled against your forehead.

You kept this up until both of them were down to only a half dozen pieces each. You then pulled away slightly which got Dust's attention.

"You're practically glowing," you whispered, although it was loud enough that even Nightmare could hear.

Dust blinked and got a confused look on his skull. He stared at you, trying to figure out what you really meant, but you noticed he seemed to be getting a little flustered if the soft violet glow that began to colour his cheekbones was anything to go by.

You were doing your damn best to keep a straight face and maintain your oblivious air. It was getting really hard but you hadn't sucked up to a crappy boss for years to slack off now.

You lightly traced his clavicle with a finger and tilted your head curiously. Glancing up at his face again, you murmured, "I haven't seen you this happy before... It looks good on you."

He still seemed confused but your sincerity must've been very effective and he actually smiled more genuinely at you. He moved some of your hair behind your ear and started to lean closer when Nightmare cleared his non-existent throat.

"It's your turn..." he hissed.

Dust huffed and shot him an annoyed look. Nightmare just crossed his arms and stared passively back, although you could see the tips of his tentacles twitching with irritation.

Dust quickly scanned the board and used his magic to shift his last pawn ahead a square. "there, happy?" he grumbled.

Nightmare studied the board for a moment before nodding. You noticed the edges of his smile seemed to twitch and his restless tentacles suddenly went stock still.

"Quite," he hummed and slid his only remaining bishop across the board. "I believe that is checkmate."

Dust stiffened and Nightmare's grin only grew more smug the longer he scanned the board. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"yeah, you win..." he muttered.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding when neither of them got angry. With a soft chuckle, you rubbed reassuring circles into Dust's shoulder blades with your fingers.

"Hey, it's okay, you had a good run..."

He turned to you and narrowed his eye sockets. "you purposely distracted me," he grumbled.

You shrugged, "Maybe, but I only told you the truth." While you were trying your best to remain the perfect picture of innocent, you knew Dust that could see through you.

Nightmare hummed and beckoned for you to come closer with one of his claws. "I believe you belong over here now, my dear," he almost purred.

You smiled and shifted over to sit with him. To your surprise, he wrapped his tentacles around your entire body and pulled you into his lap. His claws pressed into your skin in a possessive way and he nuzzled his face into your hair as well.

Your face felt like it was on fire and you ducked to try and hide your embarrassment. Nightmare seemed to take great pleasure in the effect he was having on you, if the little amused chuckle he let out was anything to go by.

Dust's face was strained with annoyance but when you caught his eye, he smirked. "that's what you get for being a tease," he remarked. He did seem a little disappointed that Nightmare was giving you so much attention but at least he wasn't mad.

He looked over at Nightmare and his mismatched eyelights took on a competitive glint once again. "want to go another round?" he asked.

Nightmare pretended to think for a moment before nodding. "Of course." He hugged you a bit tighter and added, "I think I like playing this game..."

You were going to be stuck here for a while...

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #dusttale #dreamtale #dust sans #dust #nightmare sans #nightmare #dust sans x reader #nightmare x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

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chaosduckies · 2 months

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Friends In Small Places (Chapter 4)

As I’ve mentioned when I had first started writing this, this piece is meant to be gloomy. So, I give you the fearplay chapter. I’m so sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy! (I have no idea how to feel about this scene-) Also, I get to put my three years of spanish classes to use :D (Translations are included)

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: Anxiety, panic attacks, slight gore mentioned

4-Liam

A week can pass by quickly.

Cas and I have been slowly getting to know each other a little more. Not a whole lot since some topics were a little too hard for him to talk about. Classes at college were getting even more tiring, and before I could ask to take the classes online it turns out that they had already handled it when I brought up the subject. So, now I was practically staying at Cas’s house almost all of the time. Although it isn’t too bad, I’ve noticed something about his behavior. He likes to stay close by me.

It’s not a bad thing, I’m not complaining at all, it’s just that it’s nerve wracking whenever he asks if I’m okay with him sitting near me. I’m not used to him all that much. I know most people are fine with being around shifters but of course I’ve believed all my life that most shifters were scary, intimidating even. It’ll just take some time to get used to living with one I guess. After all, I was supposed to be a therapist.

Today I was just writing some notes while Cas sat on the floor, a bright smile on his face as he looked at his phone. I was about to ask what that was about, but then I remembered him telling me something about seeing his parents sometimes this week. Was that today? If it was I should probably get ready. The only thing I knew was that I was required to be there the entire time. They didn’t tell me what was going to happen, how long it would be, but I’m sure Cas would tell me on our way there.

I shut my computer closed, placing my notebook on top of it before shoving it into my bag and glancing over at Cas. He seemed excited to meet with his parents. I would be too if I had been separated for however long. Then again I live in an entire different city than my parents. They do like calling every once in a while though. I don’t think they let Cas have his own parents phone number.

“Excited?” I mumbled, walking a little bit closer. I’m pretty sure we’ll have to leave soon. It was already noon and I was mainly waiting on a text or a call that explains that his parents were ready to see him. For some reason he’s not allowed to go in early which I find is kind of irrational, but I can’t just go against them. Heck, I wasn’t even supposed to be part of this organization.

“Mhm. Last time we were only allowed an hour to talk.” He smiled sadly at me, still looking positive about today’s outcome. I do hope he gets to see them today. I think he needs this. But I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as excited to see their parents as Cas was.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but how old are you?” I asked, looking up curiously. He can’t be more than three years younger than me. He doesn’t go to school, and I doubt he’s any older than myself.

“Eighteen. I know, I act like a child.” He chuckled, messing with his hands. Nervous? I don’t really think I could do anything about that. Actually, for someone who has depression and struggles with emotions, he doesn’t lose control a whole lot. Only ever twice has he in front of me, minus the times where he starts growing a couple feet from either watching someone thing or thinking about something. I try my hardest to shut it down before anything bad could happen. Last time I freaked out and couldn’t do anything useful to help him.

“I don’t think you act like a child.” I laughed, hearing my phone go off. I hurried to pick it up, seeing Cas quite literally beam with a shocked smile. I told them we’d be right there, and then carefully climbed into his hands. Today would be a good day. I don’t know why I get the feeling something bad will happen. It’s just the way they had sounded on the phone…

——————

The building looked relatively normal on the outside, with a fancy look that had screamed “We’re rich,” there were different sized doors, but what caught me off guard was that there was an entire security system right at the front that makes sure you’r not bringing a weapon. Cas set me down near the human-sized doors, telling me to just do what they say and we’ll eventually meet up again. It’s kind of awkward taking instructions from someone younger than me, but he’s been here for much, much longer.

I went through security, answered a few questions, like who I was with, how long I would prefer the visit time be, mostly questions about Cas if I were being honest. Was this why he was only allowed a singular hour to talk last time? Because he had someone else? I don’t really mind spending a few hours here. What could go wrong? I answered as long as Cas and his parents were going to be here. I’d feel bad if I set a time limit. Plus, I’m sure his parents would love to spend some more time with him.

Eventually they lead me to a huge waiting room, where I was guessing I would be able to keep an eye on Cas. I was I trusted to stay in there in case something goes wrong, but I sincerely doubt it. What was there to be upset about in the first place? I think everything would be fine. I was just staying on the sidelines anyways. Maybe meet his parents, talk for a while. Heck, maybe I’ll even get to know a little more about him. Cas doesn’t answer some questions I have. All for good reason I hope, it’s not like I was going to force it out of him anyways. That would just be plain wrong.

Out side of the room, Cas had walked in, standing up near the platform I was guessing they’d be at. Weren’t they supposed to take me up there too? A woman wearing a suit walked into my holding room, taking a seat right next to me, “Kayla Cruz. I was Casper’s old therapist.” She giggled, holding her hand out. Oh? What was she doing here then? Why was she replaced by me of all people? She certainly looked like she was more trained for this job than I was. Something wasn’t right here.

“Oh, um, Liam Rover. It’s nice to meet you.” I smiled, shaking her offered hand and watching as Three people wearing a guard outfit instructed Cas about something to which he nodded to. Wasn’t I supposed to be up there? I think I know which way to go to get up to him. I guess I can wait an extra couple of minutes. I have no idea why, but I had a bad feeling about everything. Maybe I could ask Ryan later? I know the person he was placed with is a shifter who can only reduce their size, was this really any different? I’d have to ask.

The woman next to me watched, a frown on her face as she looked at Cas, a worried look on his face. His eyes darted all around the room, still waiting for when his parents walk through the safety of the doors high above where I was sitting. Was it supposed to take this long? Why was I the one worried? Was it just a feeling?

Th woman next to me glared at me from the corner of her eye, a smirk appearing on her face, “They told you he was meeting with his parents today?” She leaned back in the seat. I nodded my head, confused. “It’s technically true, but the company has deemed Casper here too mentally unstable to meet with anyone but shifters and his corresponding therapist, which would be you.”

My heart sank.

What the hell. This was just wrong! I have to go up there before they do anythi- I stared up at the platform, seeing a singular guard walk in, say something to Cas, have a short conversation that made his eyes grow wide and slide slowly down the metal-looking wall behind him. My eyes darted around the room, searching for a door to go and help him. Of course I was terrified about what they’ve done, mostly the outcome of what’s about to happen, but it’s not like I can just leave him here. I know what they do to shifters who can’t control their emotions. Their either sent off to a special captivity prison, or they… I can’t think about that right now. I am not about to become the reason Cas gets sent to a place like that. I don’t have the heart in me to do so.

I found a door that looked like it lead to the room, and almost as if they knew I was searching for it, it unlocked. I threw it open, rushing out, my heart beating fast and uncontrollable. My legs were about to give out from underneath me, breath shaky, my mind screaming at me to get the hell out of here. But I don’t. I knew what was about to happen. They weren’t letting Cas see his parents. I heard slight screaming and yelling in another room that sounded like a woman’s and crying from a kid. But I didn’t focus on that right now. I was more worried about the situation in front of me.

What do I do? Something tells me this isn’t going to be anything like that other time. Cas has always watched how he reacts to things, what he does, but right now he’s not. He’s most definitely depressed, and there was just something else I couldn’t pin point. People do dumb things while they’re upset. They regret it all later, so it would be best if I make sure Cas doesn’t so anything he’ll regret. Because then that’s an entire different problem to deal with after this one.

“Cas!” I managed to scream at the top of my lungs, knees buckling underneath me, but I force them to keep me standing upright as his gaze falls onto me. I jumped, chest heaving up and down as I struggled to find the words to say. My body was frozen in fear, not even able to move a single limb from it’s place. He winced when his legs uncomfortably hit the wall opposite of him. I didn’t know what to do. It’s almost like… they wanted him to lash out. Why would they want that? Soon enough, guards ran in, yelling orders while one tugged at me to head back inside, but I didn’t move. Instead, I rushed forward, avoiding the somehow careful limbs that were trying to move into a compact position on the floor.

A guard was running after me, but I guess someone held him back since I was somehow gaining ground when I was running extremely slow and tripping every once in a while. I found Cas’s head, seeing him scrunched up as much as he could manage as of right now. He laid on the ground, arms and hands covering his face and knees up against the chest. He still realizes that he can hurt people. Maybe I can actually do this? Still, the size difference between us is huge.

Cas wasn’t crying or anything. Just mumbling words I surprisingly couldn’t make out. He didn’t sound angry. Just upset. That makes it easier to deal with. People do horrible things out of anger. And I could only imagine how devastating it would be if Cas wasn’t thoughtful enough to watch himself.

I found his head, buried underneath his arms and muttering incomprehensible words to himself. He groaned a bit, slightly turning his body to face the wall, moving his arms away from his face to lay them down. I guess he didn’t see that I was so close to him because his arm almost killed me. I quickly jumped out the way just before I would’ve been nothing but a pile of flesh and bones on the ground. My heart skipped a beat, unable to stare at the spot on the ground where I could’ve died. My breathing became a ragged, and the sounds close to me were slightly muffled, but it’s not like anyone was saying anything important to me.

Cas turned his head, eyes meeting my frozen minuscule frame and gasping. He moved his arm away from me, doing his best to slowly sit up without alarming the multiple guards in the room, along with the weapons they probably have imbedded in the room itself. I could tell he was still upset, but right now I was too focused on the fact that I could have died. That reminded me just how much power Cas had over me. Even if I was the one who was watching over him.

“L-Liam I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-“ He tried apologizing, voice hitching just before sucked in a sharp breath. My entire body was shaky, but I forced my legs to push me back up and walk over to the towering being. More people had walked in, Cas pressed his back closer to the wall scared. He knew what was going to happen. I knew what was going to happen. I just had to make sure it wasn’t the worst possible outcome of the the two. I don’t think I could handle the guilt that way.

The week I’ve spent with Cas has been amazing really. Even though sometimes I get a little jumpy from the fast movements, or feel uncomfortable at times when he’s around me, Cas really isn’t bad at all. We’ve hung out for a while, watched movies, played a few games. I think we’re friends? With that thought in mind I’d hate to see them take him to a place he doesn’t even deserve to be in. Of course I was afraid of him still, instincts and all, but I don’t want him to end up being alone.

I stood up, taking shaky breaths as I tried my hardest to stay upright. Come on I’m not even hurt- I was just terrified. Shocked. A little unstable right now even. If I had tried talking to Cas now he wouldn’t hear me. The distance between my and himself was huge. I looked back up at him, taking deep breaths. He stared worriedly at the people making their way in, looking ready to advance if he tries anything.

“I’m not scared. I’m totally fine.” I kept muttering to myself. It usually worked when I felt like this. It’s what my dad would keep telling me. Little did he know that I was terrified of everything going on around me right now.

Cas’s attention turned to me, a hand reaching taking up my vision as I stood frozen in fear. The next the thing I knew I was pinched tightly between two of his fingers, arms pinned to my sides and barely able to move any part of my body. The pressure against my chest increased, threatening to break my ribs. That was the least of my worries. I couldn’t breathe right now.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you like that!” He freaked out, holding me dangerously close to his face. He’s not being his usual careful self, but that was expected when a person was upset. I gasped for air, trying to free my arms from the prison I was in currently, but Cas just kept looking over the the people on the ground that was far, far below me and muttering words in a language I couldn’t hear.

My heart was racing fast as my lungs had begged me for air. I managed to free one of my arms, and I forced my voice to work for once, “Cas!”

“…Lo siento. Lo siento mucho. Estoy arruinando todo...” (*Translation: I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. I’m ruining everything…*)He kept on muttering over and over again, and it just makes me wish I had paid attention to my spanish classes in high school. Something about him being sorry? I think have much, much bigger problems at hand though.

Cas shifted me in his literal death grip, allowing me to breathe, but he was pressing down harder, and a sharp pain erupted from my leg, but I was fueled by the adrenaline.

“Cas!” I screamed again, trying to pull myself out of his grip. His eyes darted to me, wide and shocked. It took him a moment to realize, but he let go, laying me down in his open palm, running a hand through his hair. I coughed for air, wincing when I checked out the leg that felt like it was on fire. Most likely broken, but nothing I couldn’t handle. It was fine though. I know he didn’t mean to. But still, my fear never wavered at the fact that he could quite literally kill me by not even trying to.

“¿Estás bien? I-I didn’t mean to-“ I nodded my head, biting down hard on the bottom of my lip. It’s okay, you know him good enough to know that he wouldn’t do any of this on purpose. I had to remind myself before gathering up my remaining courage to actually do my job.

“Cas, just take a few breaths, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.” I had only hoped he heard over how shaky my voice was. He slowly nodded his head, I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them the ground wouldn’t be so far from me. When I peaked out, the ground was a bit closer, people stood on the ground, frozen in either fear or shock. I calmed my heart down enough to actually get a few more words in.

“Feeling a little better?” I asked, putting on the best smile I could manage right now. He slightly nodded again, continuing to take slow breaths.

“What happened?” I asked calmly, genuinely worried about what was said before I rushed in through here. Cas eyes me sadly, wincing, “I won’t… be able to see my parents for a long time.” He whispered, suddenly aware of everything around him again. He moved further into the wall, away from the people below us.

“And that means?…” He bit the bottom of his lip, “Apparently I’m too unstable to even see my own family.” He sighed, and I could tell he wanted to cry, but he knew what would happen if he gave into those feelings.

“I-I have a little brother. He loves trying to climb up anything he can,” He started laughing sadly, “You can imagine how much fun he has when he and my parents come for visits.” He sniffled a little, smiling. Oh. Oh. He’s calming down in his own way.

Why was the world so adamant on having people watch over the “dangerous” shifters? Cas doesn’t need me… and maybe shifters don’t actually need anyone to watch over them.

“Yeah?” I smiled, laughing with him while he seemed to have calmed down.

“… I’m sorry, Liam.” He pressed me up agianst the bridge of his nose, this time a lot more gentle. I winced from the sharp pain in my leg, but sucked it up. I think Cas needs this. Even if I was scared he’d accidentally hurt me again.

Cas let me down, facing the crowd on the ground that had rushed to help me up, limping the entire way until multiple people were talking behind me, rushing into places. I turned back, ignoring the warning from the people helping me. Cas gave a sad smile as the red band on his wrists started blinking, clasping themselves together like magnetic handcuffs. Cas sighed.

I heard people in another room yelling, even a child’s voice. It’s his parents. I gasped, finding a door to another room I haven’t been in, seeing a guard and a person with a suit and tie in there. Through the small window, I saw a tall man trying to comfort his wife, who sat crying on the bench while the child stared, screaming at the guard to let him see his brother. My heart sank.

They weren’t going to kill Cas. I knew they wouldn’t. I just hoped I would be allowed to see him in the hospital they’ll be placing him in. This wasn’t right. Not at all.

——————

Aghhh plot build up my beloved. This chapter leads up to something reallyyy important for later.

Aww all Cas wanted was to see his little brother 🥺

I hope you enjoyed! I have no idea how to feel about this chapter if I’m being honest, but I hope it’s alright TwT work is affecting my writing grahhhh. Thank you for reading though!

The drawing I did for this chapter is right here!

Taglist: @da3dm (If you would like to be added, leave a note or dm me! :D)

#G/t #g/t writing #g/t fearplay #g/t community #Friends in small places #oc: casper #oc: liam #my writing #aghhh idk how to feel about this one either #My writing style is just going down-#I hate it so much #I hope it goes back to normal #currently three in the morning #But I do not care #I said I would post this chapter no matter what #And here I am #I hope you guys enjoyed #Thank you for reading!#love you guys ❤️

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raidtheradio · 1 year

Text

Hard Morning

Summary: You help Arthur through a particularly hard morning.

Notes: I just wanted to write something short and simple hehe, I have this other series I really gotta work on I posted like one chapter then disappeared for a month. Anyway, I haven't edited this since it's midnight and I'm high I might edit it later though who knows.

Read it on AO3!

Arthur Morgan is dying, his sickly dry heaving reminds you every day. ‘Black Lung’ Micah calls him. The cruel nickname creates a devastating image in your head when you hear him heave.

He struggles through daily life, he helps you girls with camp chores that are normally left to the women and Mr. Pearson. Karen is often too drunk to walk, and Abigail struggles worrying about her husband in prison. With two people out of condition, the workload had been overwhelming for you and your partners in crime. You tell Arthur every day not to worry, that he should just rest and focus on getting better. He never listens, he’s always up. Chopping wood, feeding horses, repairing travel-worn carriages. Between the scores that Dutch always assigns him to, he somehow manages to bring home dinner for the camp. It’s not always enough, but it keeps you and the gang going. You remember a time when you woke up before the rest of your little family. You were still in your undergarments, and working to restart the fire so you could make a large pot of coffee. That was when you heard the too familiar sound of dry heaving. Micah's nickname echoed in your head as you rushed to the source. Arthur was sitting on the log used to chop wood, the axe in his hand was forgotten and a half-chopped log was on its side in the grass. You weren’t good with people, quiet and reserved. Your flawed social skills became prominent when you saw your dear friend struggle with something as simple as breathing. You stood there and stared, slack-jawed. This man could survive on a can of beans for a whole day, you’ve seen him tear through drunken men with his bare knuckles. A whole tank reduced to a man. You could practically see his black lungs struggle to bring oxygen to his body. With every heave, you could hear the fluid filling his chest. You had no words for the dying man, so you placed your hand on his back. You began with light circular motions, not wanting to take his concentration away from breathing. When he finally began to stabilize you increased pressure. Your stomach was filled with cement, your brows upturned.

“I’m sorry.” He heaves, and your chest begins to hurt as well. He shouldn’t feel the need to hide his pain the way he does. He was always around to lend people a shoulder to cry on.

“Take your time friend.” You respond. He draws in air through his nose, and exhales through his mouth. He’d finally caught his breath, you pulled your hand away as he began to stand.

“That was bad.” Stupid, but you had nothing else to say.

“I’m ok, thank you.” He bends down to grab the axe and log. You grab his hand, he stops and looks at you.

“There’s no need Mr. Morgan, there's plenty of wood already.” You start to lead him, and like a poorly trained horse he hesitantly follows. You set him down on a nearby chair and he watches as you start the fire. You’ve done this many times before, being the early bird in the camp. You shove scraps of dead leaves and twigs in the center of the little tiipii and before you could even ask, Arthur holds his lighter out to you. You didn’t know how he managed to get his hands on such a nice one, gold with antler engravings, but you didn’t ask as he didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. Soon the fire was blazing, and coffee was brewed. You settled yourself beside him and handed him his own cup. He took it, his large hands looking out of place as he grips the small handle. You take a sip and look out to the forest.

“Everythings just gone to shit.” Arthur is never really one to complain. Actually that’s a lie. You remember giggling many times when you’d catch him swearing under his breath over something stupid Sean did. Aw, Sean. You missed the poor bastard.

“You’re right.” You look him in the eye. He looked as if he’s aged ten years in the past two weeks. His once bright blue eyes faded, his mouth downturned into a heartbreaking frown. “But we have coffee, and this nice view.” You gesture to the woods around you both, and you thank God for his beautiful work. Even if his world is cruel, he sure knew how to landscape. Arthur doesn’t even chuckle, his mouth cemented into his frown. You take his hand and rub your thumb over his bruised knuckles. You have nothing else to say, and neither does he. He sips his coffee while the first sounds of life come from Dutch's tent. Well, let the day begin.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x reader #angst #hurt/comfort

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 14 days

Note

Part two!

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰(I’m LOVING this! I have such theories i can’t wait to see if i’m right! And once again you’re a master of using your line breaks to enhance a story - it’s so meta i love it!)

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️(whodunit? I don’t know! I’m so excited to find out! Really loving athena’s pov especially for this story it’s so fun!)

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷(CAL YOURE DOING BTHB?!?!??!!! HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SURVIVE THAT?????!!!!! It seems like you’re maybe starting us off light but i can never be sure with you… you’re an angst master and i cant wait to read all your stories!)

I hope you know that reading your snippets is genuinely one of the highlights of my day! Your work makes me so happy thank you for sharing!

- PCA <3

HI PCA!

THANK YOU AGAIN FOR BEING THE LOVELIEST PERSON EVER???

60 for ➰ (Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! And thanks! i have so much fun with the line breaks)

Tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

“Not the exact same,” Eddie explains nervously. “It’s like some things matter, and others don’t. I don’t know about today, though. Maybe we have, yeah.”

Buck thinks nervously about the prospect that one of them might die horribly at any moment.

“Okay, which things matter?” Buck asks.

“The restaurant. We have to go to the restaurant,” Eddie explains.

“Okay,” Buck nods. “Right at the same time.”

“Yep,” Eddie confirms. “And we have to go kayaking. You have to hit your head.”

“What?” Buck complains. “Why? Come on!”

“I didn’t choose it, Buck!” Eddie practically whines. “Just, every time you don’t, something worse happens. Without fail. We don’t have to eat breakfast on the patio. We can go to the beach or the pool. But if we don’t go kayaking, and you don’t hit your head, and we avoid the restaurant, it’s worse for… For one of us.”

Which doesn’t just mean Buck. It could mean Eddie or Chris, too. Damn it.

“Alright, alright,” Buck sighs. “But we could run through a drive-thru this morning? We could wake up and stay in bed longer next time?”

Eddie nods.

“Okay,” Buck exhales. “Okay, this helps.”

“Please don’t say anything to Chris,” Eddie begs. “Especially about dying. I know he’ll just forget, but…”

“You don’t want to freak him out,” Buck fills in.

Eddie nods again. “I just want him - and you - to be as happy as possible. Okay?”

Buck tries to avoid narrowing his eyes in concern. Eddie has been the sole lucid person in this experience for a while. He’s whittled it down to a formula. A neatly rehearsed show that he stages every twelve hours, with no end in sight. Buck has thrown that off. Like, significantly. He gets why Eddie is nervous.

“Don’t worry,” Buck promises, squeezing his hand. “I’m gonna follow your lead, okay? You know how this all works.”

Eddie sighs, relieved. “Thank you.”

“Having me aware will be good,” Buck tells him. “Right? You’re not alone now.”

Eddie scratches his head. “I… I had you before, too. I wasn’t alone.”

---

36 for ☠️ (THANK YOU! I am so happy you're interested. I was nervous to write this one):

---

“Alright,” Athena says. “Well… Let’s say a crime was committed.”

“How bad of a crime?” Bobby asks.

See, this is where they differ. Bobby thinks in terms like that. Athena mostly just sees the law. She does need his perspective right now.

“Among the worst sort,” Athena says.

“Okay,” Bobby nods. “Got it.”

“It’s hard to feel bad for the person who was hurt by this crime,” Athena continues. “They aren’t a great person. But that doesn’t matter, right?”

“It shouldn’t,” Bobby agrees. He already knows this is how she feels. Opinions towards the victim or perpetrator isn’t the point of the law. At least, not usually.

“Except, without knowing the specifics, and I don’t…” Athena sighs. “What if the alleged criminals, in this specific scenario, had a really good reason for what they did? A reason you trust?”

Bobby is silent for a long moment. So long, in fact, that Athena begins to worry.

“This really doesn’t sound like you,” he eventually says.

“I know,” she admits.

“So the question here, really, is, do you do your job?” Bobby asks. “Or do you follow your gut?”

“I guess it is.”

“And those two things are usually harmonious,” he continues.

She nods. “Right.”

“Hmm,” Bobby considers. “Athena, I think… I think you need to think about what feels best to you. What can you live with?”

---

30 for 🦷: (I AM! I've been having fun with Gotcha For Gaza prompts, so I thought I'd take a few more prompt like things to inspire me).

---

Not even two minutes later, Christopher is sitting on a chair in the kitchen, mouth open, while Eddie shines a little light to illuminate its dark interior. The gums around his back molars on all sides are red and inflamed. Angry. It soon becomes clear why. Eddie can see the beginnings of four impacted wisdom teeth trying to poke through, pressing up against his gums and his other molars.

“Oh, buddy,” Eddie sighs.

“What?” Chris asks, words muffled by the set of his extended jaw. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Your wisdom teeth are trying to come through,” Eddie says. He steps back from Chris and turns off the light. “But they’re impacted. Which just means they’re growing in against your other teeth and causing a lot of pain.”

“Oh,” Chris says. “What do I do?”

I, not we. Like he has to solve his problems himself now. He didn’t talk like that before this summer.

“Well, you’ll probably need a surgery to remove them,” Eddie says.

Christopher’s face twists with apprehension.

“It’s a little surgery,” Eddie assures him. “Nothing scary like you had in the past. Lots of people have to have it.”

Buck could probably rhyme off the exact percentage of people who need it.

To his surprise, Christopher starts to cry. His face goes even redder.

“Aren’t I too young for that?” He blubbers.”I-I don’t want it!”

“Hey, Chris, it’s okay,” Eddie says soothingly. He reaches out to lay a hand on his son’s shoulder.

#daisies and briars writes #time likes pulling my teeth fic

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sea-creature-things · 6 months

Text

Grimwalker things

Chapter 4: Scales, more importantly, shedding

This is my offering to the huntlow shippers. I love those two so much. Writing their crush hell was incredibly fun.

Most people when they see ‘scales of a selkidomus’ they think of boiling water resistance, but I went in a different direction. Have fun lol.

For the next chapter I'm writing about a very popular headcanon about Stonesleepers, its gonna be angsty again :)

Also; TW for blood and description of injury. (It's not graphic but a warning just to be safe)

Read here below the cut or on AO3 with this link:

He remembered thinking it was normal when he was younger. It was just a thing that happened every few months. It was annoying, but not weird, or potentially unsettling to other people.

Until an extremely awkward conversation with Steve.

It was on a mission a few years ago, when he was 14. Hunter was ordered to capture a Snaggleback. The task itself wasn’t hard, but he needed backup for getting it back to the castle. So he’d called in the cavalry, Steve. He was Hunter’s favourite scout, even though he was practically glued to Lilith. Steve was never mean, he never tried to steal credit or gain favours.

On the way back Hunter found out shedding was in fact NOT a normal thing that happened. They were using an airship to easily transport the Snaggleback. His shedding day was very well-timed, he’d been scratching all day and the flight back home was no exception.

“Ugh! I hate it when my scars shed.” Hunter complained as he itched his arm. Steve had been eyeing his scratching for a while, but he hadn’t said anything. Now he turned to him confused.

“What?” The big hollow eyes of Steve’s mask stared directly at Hunter. Who thought he simply hadn’t heard him right.

“The shed. On scars.” Hunter tried to explain, he remembered thinking it was so obvious. “It always feels so weird.”

“Do you mean the scabs?” Steve continued to stare at him, this time Hunter looked at him in confusion. It was suddenly very quiet a thousand feet in the air. Even the Snaggleback had stopped its chittering.

“No?” Afraid that he said something wrong or stupid, Hunter decided to stop talking all together. He even ignored poor Steve when he asked more confused questions.

Since that day, his shedding became something to hide. He tried to find any kind of information about it in books from the healing coven. But that only confirmed that it was unnatural.

At least now he knew why it happened, but he had no idea how it all worked. Maybe the damage to his skin had exposed the Selkidomus scales underneath, or… in between?

He still didn’t fully understand what made him go from lose ingredients, to a fully formed witch-imitation. Maybe the wound had locally deactivated the magic? He didn’t know!

And it didn’t matter, because right now he needed an excuse, not the truth. Since, apparently, he had walked into the kitchen with a bleeding face!

Last night, when he’d gone to bed, the scar on his cheek was itchy. Which probably meant that he ripped his shed while sleeping. He hadn’t even felt the wound, or the blood dripping down his chin. He only noticed after Luz, Camila, Amity and Willow had collectively gasped the moment he walked in.

He was startled and still a little dazed from not being the first one up for a change. Of all the days to start sleeping in. He had actually been sleeping at night recently, for 8 hours even. But this was the first morning that the clock read 6:30 when he woke up. On a week day!

His friends had reassured him time and time again that sleeping in was no big deal. In fact, they wanted him to do it. But he was still nervous when he climbed the stairs that morning. Still, when he reached the top, nobody was impatiently waiting for him. Nobody scolded him or barraged him with an extra long list of demands.

His anxiety seemed to just wash away, and he felt very relaxed walking to the kitchen. He found Luz, Camila, Amity and Willow at the dinner table. They were having a cheerful conversation over breakfast. It was Wednesday so that breakfast consisted of toast and cereal.

He felt completely at ease. They were happy, the room was warm and inviting, the sun shone bright beams through the window. Everything felt just right. But when he walked in, their conversation stopped. They all gasped.

He had stupidly turned to them with a questioning look, like an idiot, a fool!

Amity clasped a hand over her mouth and Camila brought hers to her heart. Willow dropped her spoon in her cereal bowl and Luz pushed away from the table, standing up abruptly.

“What? What’s wrong?” He had asked bewildered. Again, like an idiot. Their looks of pure horror should've been a clue.

“Hunter… you’re bleeding.” Amity was the first to regain her composure. Her voice was laced with fear and her eyes matched it. But she wasn’t making eye-contact, her gaze was locked on his cheek.

“What?” Hunter touched his face in disbelief. Yup, there was definitely warm, sticky blood on his hand. How in the world did he not feel anything? How had he not noticed sooner?

“Oh.”

“OH?!” Luz yelled out mortified, it made him jump a little. Luz’s whole body was rigid with tension, her hands were slammed on the table. She seemed angry, but Hunter knew she was scared by the look in her eyes.

They had no idea what was going on. But… what could he possibly give as explanation?

“This just… happens sometimes.” He said with great difficulty. He hoped his obliviousness of the whole thing helped support his case.

“That doesn’t JUST happen!” Willow shouted even louder than his sister. Her hands gestured wildly above her bowl of cereal. She looked so concerned.

They all looked so worried, he couldn’t stand it.

“It’s fine, I swear!” He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to calm them down. They had rarely seen blood like this. He was freaking them out and he didn’t know what to do!

Hunter rushed over to the sink to wash the blood off his face and hands. He stumbled against the counter and gripped the edge. He could fix this. He had to somehow ease their minds.

The moment he saw the deep red smear on his hand he knew what was happening. And he also knew he could not tell them the truth. Shedding?! Normal people don't shed!

His fingers became fidgety and it took him a few tries to turn on the sink. His heartbeat was already going a million miles a second. His eyes darted all over the place, but he couldn't see Camila out of the corners. Was she still at the table? Did she leave? Was she walking over to him?

Was she worried? Was she angry? And what about Luz, Willow and Amity? They looked so scared.

His hands were shaking and refusing to cooperate. He used to have better hand-eye coordination than this, even when he was injured. The repetitive motion of washing became fumbled. Why wouldn’t it come off?

“Hunter, baby, you are not fine.” Camila said, her voice was gentle but stern. Hunter’s shoulders tensed up. She didn’t sound angry, but he still felt like he couldn’t breathe. At least her voice was distant, which meant she was still at the table.

He hadn’t even registered what she said. He wasn’t ignoring her on purpose! But maybe it was better that way. If he could just get that damn blood of his hands, he could fix his face and everything would be okay again.

“Hunter…” Amity spoke softly. She couldn’t believe what was happening.

"It's not a big deal..." He muttered, he was trying to keep them at bay now. If he could just fix this and show them there was nothing wrong, everything would go back to being peaceful.

"There is blood coming out of your face!” Luz yelled again. She was distraught and frustrated with his attitude. Hunter felt his own frustration rise with how little blood was coming off his hands. He was running out of time.

"I know!” He turned around with desperation, he was trying so hard to calm them down. “But- just trust me, I promise it's normal."

All four of them were still at the dinner table. They had joined Luz in standing up and looked ready to jump into action, but it seemed like they were glued to their places. And Hunter was grateful for it. He could use the kitchen island as a kind of barrier between them.

"Hunter!" Willow said his name like it was supposed to mean something. Like the pure protest she put in saying just his name would make him understand. It didn't. It just made him more nervous.

"That's not normal!" Amity explained. She was right, of course it wasn’t normal. That’s how he’s felt ever since that mission years ago. He knew it wasn’t normal, but-

"It is for me!"

Hunter shut his eyes when he yelled back. He didn’t mean to do it, he didn’t want to. He’s never done that before, not here. He just felt so hopeless.

They all fell silent for a bit, catching their breath. Hunter looked at the ground nervously. The words had burst out in distress, as an attempt to comfort them, but he wasn't ready for what they meant.

Should he just tell them? He could explain it better if they knew- no. No no no, sweet Titan no! This could NOT be their first impression of a Grimwalker. He had to pivot this somehow.

His head shot up to watch their reactions, expecting questioning looks or suspicion. But instead he was met with several intensities of anger. Amity's furious expression was laced with somber understanding. Camila and Luz were sporting a very similar look of rage. But Willow's fiery eyes were definitely the highest level.

“Belos is fucking lucky he’s dead.”

Oh.

Right.

Well, at least he didn’t have to pivot this anymore. They already did it themselves. Hunter wasn’t ready for that implication either. He only felt more uneasy. Even though it was… true.

He turned around again very quickly. The energy in the room had changed, at least he could breathe now.

He heard Camila say something about a first aid kit and someone left the room. Hunter was pretty sure it was her, but he didn’t want to turn around a second time. The blood was finally starting to fade, it didn't used to take this long. Or maybe he never noticed because it wasn't urgent.

Nobody said anything until she came back and he heard her walk over. Hunter steeled himself.

“It doesn’t seem like something normal to me, but we won’t keep pressing you for answers.” Camila spoke softly, putting the kit to the side on the counter. Her presence wasn’t as scary as he expected.

"Thank you." Hunter carefully looked in her eyes, they were full of worry. He nervously looked away again.

Camila slowly reached a hand out towards his shoulder. Hunter did an involuntary step back. Her hand staggered in the air and she let it fall down on the counter. He shut his eyes as shame filled his heart. She was just trying to help!

“And if you need help with this…” Camila paused. She gestured to the first aid and sighed. ”… you only have to ask, okay?”

Hunter was shocked. This experience veterinarian and attentive, caring mother was leaving it to him. She was trusting him to know what to do and do it well. She was giving him exactly what he wanted.

“Okay.”

Camila was truly amazing. But why did she look so sad when she turned away? Why did Luz give her mom such a baffled stare? They didn’t need to worry, he wouldn’t need help. He’s done this a million times before.

Hunter breathed a sigh of relief, he finally felt his heart rate slowing down. He put his head back under the sink. The blood was still not coming off easily, but now he actually could fix it. Everything was going to be okay.

“Hey, let me help you.” Willow suddenly appeared next to him. Hunter glanced up in surprise.

He straightened up when he saw Willow’s face. She had the kind of stubborn look in her eyes that he first saw on the flyer derby field. He wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling right now. Things should be going back to normal, why did she still look so alarmed?

For a second he saw over her head. Amity, Luz and her mom stood a few feet away, in front of the fridge. His sister was hugging her stomach, looking very ill at ease. Amity was rubbing her girlfriend’s back, she shared a worried glance with Camila.

Hunter eyed Willow in confusion. She held the cloth she was holding under the sink. Then she held it up as if to show it to him. When he didn’t say anything she took it as the green light and held it against his damaged cheek. Gently wiping off blood.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her voice so soft and honey-sweet. The motion on the side of his face nearly frictionless. He stared down into her piercing emerald eyes.

Hunter’s brain was silent. It was literally empty up there. Suddenly it exploded back into action and with it his whole face turned hot like fire.

“Uh- YeA- I uhm, I’m okay.” He stammered. He cursed his voice for betraying him.

Willow was unconvinced. She tapped the counter a few times and pouted. The only words that were able to form in Hunter’s mind in that moment were: cute.

The plant witch then decisively tugged a cupboard above her open, taking a big bowl and filling it with water. She put the towel inside and shut the sink off. While holding the bowl in one arm, she took his left hand.

“Come on.” Willow walked passed him and tugged him along. Her grip on his hand wasn’t harsh or demanding, he could slip out easily if he wanted to.

He just didn’t want to.

The feeling was so nice and unexpected. Her soft skin wrapping over his war-torn palm. The determined way she was pulling him along. Before he realised it, she had brought him to the dinner table.

Hunter threw his eyes to the group in front of the fridge, utterly dumbfounded. Luz’s face turned into slight shock before her hand went up to her mouth, failing to hide a smile. Amity followed suit, the corners of her eyes crinkled from her amusement. The fear both girlfriends had was nowhere to be found. Camila also grew a smile, but a much tinier one.

Hunter didn’t feel any less dumbfounded.

“Willow-" Hunter began, his voice didn’t sound nearly as strong as he wanted it to.

“Sit.” She cut him off with a very nice-sounding demand. Pulling out a chair so the back of it was against the table, she pointed at it and looked up at him challengingly.

He turned again to the fridge-group. The girlfriend duo was now sporting full Cheshire Cat smirks. Camila was avoiding eye-contact, her smile slowly growing wider.

Willow set the bowl on the table, wringing the cloth out so it was just damp enough. Then she faced him with one hand on her hip. He searched in her eyes, but saw no way out. So he sat down.

Those forest green eyes, rich and beautiful. They came closer. He felt the heat rise to his face again when she carefully stroked some hair out of the way. His eyes blinked rapidly without permission. She was so close!

Those emerald eyes were brimming with focus. She brought the towel to his cheek again. Incredibly gently she began rubbing the dried blood off. Hunter was almost certain she’d never done this before, but it felt painless.

His heartbeat was accelerating again and his breathing was far from regular. But it was very different from a panic attack. He made slow and tiny breaths, almost like he was scared to breathe. Like expanding his lungs too much would make the moment stop. And his poor excuse of a heart was loud, so loud he was scared she’d hear it, but it wasn’t hysteric. Just loud.

Every time she went away to wash the towel in the bowl, that heart sank to watch her leave. And then it skipped a beat when she put the towel back against his cheek. If that piece of cloth wasn’t there, she would be holding his face in her hand. Hunter’s gulp was unintentional.

Willow’s pretty eyes darted to make contact with his. His heart screamed and begged his brain to come back, but it was gone, turned to mush. He couldn’t look away.

“Sorry if it hurts. I’ll be more careful.” She said and smiled at him. A genuine, sympathetic smile that put dimples in her cheeks.

The boy was too stunned to speak.

He heard giggling from behind him. He hadn’t even noticed that Luz and Amity had moved back to the dinner table. He couldn’t see them anymore, but their presence was palpable. Hunter didn’t know if his face could become any redder. A few shades darker and Willow wouldn’t be able to distinguish his skin from the blood.

A hair strand fell down into her workspace and Willow tucked it behind his ear. Her fingers grazing his temple, creating a tingling feeling on his skin. But the strand fell back down again.

“Can you hold your hair back?” She asked pointing at the now multiple strands clinging to the freshly cleaned side of his face. Willow moved back to the bowl to do the whole rinse again. He still watched her eyes in a trance. When she heard no answer, Willow glanced back up confused and expecting. “Hunter?”

“Huh?” Finally, his brain had returned and his entire body rejoiced. It bursted back to life, or at least back into talking. “Oh! Yes. I can do that.”

Another round of giggling erupted behind him. Hunter’s fiery blush had spread to the tips of his ears. He tried to combat the burning with his much colder hands while smoothing his hair.

“Here Hunter, you can borrow my hair tie.” Luz said. He turned around to find his sister and her girlfriend cuddled against each other. Their chairs pushed close together.

Amity was resting her head against Luz’s collarbone as she hugged her around the waist. Luz had one arm over her shoulders, while waiving the hair tie around with the other. Both of them had that Cheshire smile again. Or rather, still had it.

Hunter glared at them, but he knew there was zero ground to stand on. He just accepted the offer and quickly turned back around. Resulting in another laugh from those two.

His only saving grace right now was knowing Vee and Gus weren’t here to witness this mess. The blood, the panic or… this. Hunter thanked the Titan for that.

Wait, where was Camila? Hunter searched the kitchen and found the Dominican mother in front of the stove. He couldn’t quite see what she was making. Maybe her lunch for work? She seemed relaxed and he was happy she hadn’t left yet.

Okay. Focus. Hair, bun. He could do this.

His jittery fingers complied, Hunter was so glad his brain was back. He popped the hair tie in his mouth as he pulled back his hair. It had gotten pretty long, so the girls taught him how to make a bun.

When he was done he nervously looked at Willow again. She’d been patiently waiting with the rinsed out towel and smiled when they made eye contact. His make-shift heart thundered against his chest.

She got close again and continued wiping his cheek, somehow more gently than before. Now that his brain wasn’t a melted pile of mush, his thoughts were going a million miles per second.

He thought about how close she was. He thought about the complete switch that the morning had made because of her. He thought her cheeks looked more pink than before, but he must’ve imagined it.

Hunter thought she was so gentle and kind. And she cared so much about her friends and family. Hunter knew that he was apart of that too, but now he felt it.

And the feeling was incredibly strong.

Her eyes became too much. He lowered his gaze, focusing on his hands in his lap. There were still some crusted blood smears left on them. He picked at them. Out of sight, Willow hummed as if she was deliberating something important.

"Look up." She instructed, her sugary voice still made demands sound nice. For a second, he thought that she wanted him to look into her eyes, but that was crazy. She was staring very intently at his neck. The blood had probably trailed down on it. He did as he was told without really thinking about it.

Wow, he’s never trusted anyone with his neck before. Wow, that's a weird thought to have.

She went to rinse the cloth out once more, then started cleaning under his jaw and down his neck. Her touch still so soft. Judging from the feeling, Hunter could tell the blood trail reached just above his clavicle.

His heartbeat had quieted just a little bit and Hunter found himself staring at her eyes again. Her gorgeous emerald eyes, they weren’t showing any pity. Just care. And a bit of concern. He had no idea how bad it all looked, he didn’t get a chance to find a mirror in the mayhem.

He could feel her try out a slightly harsher scrub, which he was fine with. His neck didn’t have an open wound. He’d probably do it even harder himself.

He never cared about scraping or scratching his skin, he just wanted the blood gone. Willow wasn’t used to that, and he hoped she never would be.

Just thinking about every time he’d done this alone was making him itchy. Or maybe those were just the other scars that still need to shed. He scratched one on his upper leg, through his sweatpants. Yup, it was definitely the scars. He’ll have to be more careful with the rest, so they wouldn’t bleed.

Titan, he was so weird!

“Alright! Almost done.” Willow beamed at him, dragging him out of his thoughts. She wore a proud smile, giving her those cute dimples.

Hunter’s blush burned hot as he automatically smiled back. A pretty shaky smile at that. Part of him was relieved that Willow didn’t have to take care of him anymore. But a small part of him never wanted this moment to end.

“Just have to wipe this a few more times.” She said as she held the cloth against his face again. Her gentle touch made his heart skip another beat. If it were real, he’d be concerned about how many it had missed.

“I think the wound is pretty shallow.” She wiped once over his scar and stared at it closely. It took him some effort not to shrink away. “And it doesn't look like it’s bleeding very fast."

“Good.” Hunter said, giving in to the reflex for personal space. His poor, fake heart couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and finally breathed normally. His face had been on scorching hot overdrive for way too long.

Willow took the first aid kit from the table. When had that gotten there? She opened in and searched through the items. He watched her awkwardly. He wanted to thank her, but he wasn’t sure how.

“Uhh I don’t really know how this works though.” She said apologetically. Taking out Azura themed Band-aids and trauma scissors, supporting her claim. Willow chuckled at her items and Hunter couldn’t help but smile.

She put everything back and held the kit out to him. As he took it, his brain screamed at him.

“Thank you!” He blurted out, a little too loud. He clumsily pointed at his face. “F-for everything.”

“You’re welcome!” Willow smiled so brightly she could’ve just as easily been the sun.

Hunter sifted through the first aid kit, laying the things he could use out on the table. Disinfectant wipes, dressing, gauze and tape. Oh yeah, this’ll do nicely. As should be expected in the house of a vet, Camila was very keen on their health.

He’d have to use disinfect it first. Hunter absolutely hated this step, but it was necessary. He wiped down to remove any new blood and as expected it hurt like hell. He hissed through his teeth and balled his fist, trying his best to suppress the reaction.

“Are you sure you’re okay? It looks painful…” Willow said, noticing it anyways. She was about to sit down next to Amity, but paused when she heard him.

“What? Pffft no! I’m fine!” Hunter laughed awkwardly. Her eyes squinted and he knew she didn’t believe him. His wonky smile probably wasn’t helping either. He coughed a few times to get a grip on his voice. “Don’t worry. This is supposed to hurt.”

Willow crossed her arms. Why was she so hard to convince?

“He’s not wrong,” Luz said, forever his saviour. “How are you gonna bandage your head anyways?”

“Are we getting mummy-Hunter today?” Amity laughed. Their amusement seemed to convince Willow to take her seat.

“Ha-ha,” Hunter rolled his eyes, “that’s not necessary.”

He threw the dirty wipe away and turned to Luz. He was eager to actually teach her something. He could give her useful knowledge. Of course, he hoped she’d never have to do it.

“First, you put a 4x4 dressing over the wound.” Hunter opened one of the packets. And draped it over his face, making sure to only touch the edges. He could see Luz’s smile growing and before she could make a joke about sauce, he explained further. “Dressing is a sterile piece of gauze that helps to stop the bleeding.”

Luz closed her mouth in disappointment, but she still seemed intrigued about his process. A tiny feeling of pride filled his heart, which he knew shouldn’t be there, but he couldn’t help it.

“Then, you put a strip of normal gauze on top of it.” Hunter continued, taking said gauze and cutting about 6 inches off. He also took the tape and ripped a few pieces off with his teeth.

“Like this.” He let muscle memory take control as he taped the gauze just below his eye. He pulled it taught and taped the other end on the underside of his jaw. He repeated the process for a second strip, just for good measure. He secured it all with two more pieces of tape on the vertical sides.

“Tada!” Hunter did jazz-hands, which he regretted instantly. He dropped his arms awkwardly and put all the first aid stuff back in the kit.

“Huh, it’s like a makeshift giant band-aid.” Luz said amazed. Amity, who was still cuddling close to her, hummed in agreement.

“Exactly.” He smiling as much as he could with that band-aid so close to his mouth. “Once it’s closed, you can leave it exposed to air. No need to exchange the bandages.”

“Oh cool.” She was impressed, though still a little uncomfortable. He understood his knowledge had… implications. But he’d rather her know how and not need to use it, than not know how when she needed it.

Well, he’d rather just crawl into a hole and never come back out. But it was a little too late for that.

Hunter dared to look at Willow again. She was stirring her bowl of cereal. It had turned into a mushy porridge and judging from her expression, Willow didn’t find it very appetising either.

She suddenly looked up and their eyes met. She smiled and gave him a thumbs up. He could feel heat rise to his cheeks again. He really thought he was over this by now. At least half of his face was hidden.

He knew without looking that Luz and Amity had that stupid smirk again. But screw them! Willow was just being nice, that’s just her thing. And he was just embarrassed about everything. He was just flustered, because…

It doesn’t matter! It’s over now and everything can go back to normal.

“Here, cariño.” Camila said as she put a plate down and motioned for him come closer. “Eat up. You need something better than cereal to replenish the blood you lost.”

The plate had two pieces of toast with a generous amount of scrambled eggs on top. She also put a bowl of fruit and a glass of water down. It looked amazing.

“Wow… thank you.” Hunter said perplexed. He hesitantly walked over, looking a little too surprised for Camila’s liking. He looked up at her, he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind and sat down.

He glanced at the girls on the other side of the table. All three of them were watching him impatiently, Amity even gestured at the food like ‘eat already’. He took a bite out the mountain of egg on toast. It was absolutely delicious. He realised how hungry he was, quickly going in for a second bite.

He hummed in delight and Camila was very happy to hear it. She smiled lively and exchanged thumbs-ups with her daughter. A sudden noise made Hunter stop in the middle of his third bite.

There were thunderous footsteps in the hallway. Gus appeared, grabbing the doorway so his momentum swung him into the kitchen. He screeched to a halt in the middle of the room.

“WHY IS THERE A TRAIL OF BLOOD IN THE HALWAY?!?”

Damn it.

Amity was watching Vee and Gus flock around a very worn-out Hunter. They had barged in one after the other, with the same reaction when they saw his bandages. They gasped and ran to him, inspecting every inch of his face.

Hunter tried his best to assure his buddy he was okay, but Gus wasn’t having it. And when Vee joined in, the conversation started all over again.

Now they bombarded him with barely intelligible questions. Vee even checked him for a fever, practically facepalming Hunter who was beginning to look annoyed.

Amity was sure they weren’t actually worried at this point, but they showed no signs of stopping. Still, she didn’t see a reason to step in. This was payback for scaring them so much.

Judging by the relaxed way Willow and Luz sat beside her, they felt the same.

“If you two are trying to play nurse you’re a little late for that~” Amity said in a sing-song voice. She smirked at her friend. “Isn’t that right Wi-“

“HAHA! Yeah cuz Hunter already patched himself up!” Willow exclaimed nervously. Then she leaned in to whisper threateningly. “You’re so funny Amity~ eat your breakfast.”

Luz tried to stifled her giggles when Willow gave her a menacing look as well.

Amity had no idea why she was so worried. Hunter’s crush on her was so painfully obvious, she didn’t need to hide anything. To be honest, Amity was still a little shocked that Willow liked him back. But this morning was undeniable, her beautiful best friend likes the blonde dork.

Luz swore up and down that she even saw Willow blush when Hunter put his hair in a bun. Amity didn’t see it though.

Gus hugged the older boy tight, yammering as he pushed his cheek against Hunter’s chest. Hunter seemed to resign to his fate, patting Gus’s back with a peeved expression.

“Veeeeeee~” Gus cried out with way too much theatrics. Turning to her while shaking his friend. “Hunter’s dying!”

“I’m not dying!” Hunter yelled irritated. He tried to wriggle out of Gus’s hug. “It’s just a wound, a shallow flesh wound, I’m okay!”

“But what even happened?” Vee whined frantically.

“Nothing- I just… Guys!” He turned to the girls with desperation. “Tell them I’m okay.”

Amity looked from her left to her right, sharing a silent agreement. They weren’t letting the entertainment end just yet.

“Well,” Amity placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on folded hands. She leered at Hunter. “you never told us what happened.”

Hunter tilted his head and stared at her with a look of pure betrayal. His mouth hung open from disbelief. He kept staring at her while Vee and Gus circled around him, poking and prodding. Willow bursts out laughing, quickly followed by Luz.

"Ugh!” Luz exclaimed after her giggle-fit died down. She was looking at her phone for the time. “I have to get ready for school."

Amity watched her girlfriend get up and walk away. She was surprised to see her eyes so sad. She jumped up to follow Luz while she got ready for the bus. Her girlfriend had literally just laughed her butt off, what was going on?

“That was a pretty weird start of the day, huh?” Amity said as she followed Luz upstairs.

“Ha, definitely.” Luz gave her an exhausted look. They entered her room, which was now just ‘the girls room’.

It was a bit cramped with the extra beds, but they made it work. They tried their best to keep things tidy. Although, Willow’s bed was a constant jumble of blankets that no one could untangle.

Amity’s own bed looked pretty inviting right now. She needed a nap, and it wasn’t even seven-thirty yet!

This morning had really been something. First, her friend was bleeding from his face. It had plunged the room in a state of panic. But then, out of nowhere, Willow had saved the day by playing nurse.

It was kind of impressive how easily Willow got him to sit down and cooperate. After sharing a shocked look with her girlfriend, which quickly turned into giggling, her and Luz sat down to enjoy the moment.

It was such a nice domestic moment. Watching the flustered mess form afar, side by side with her own source of tomato-face. It was almost nostalgic.

She walked over to Luz’s desk, which was a bit of a mess. The books they got from the library, all their drawings, and anything interesting enough to bring home were all be dumped on the desk. Luz’s egg palisman was also there, under a lamp. Nobody knew if keeping it warm like that was necessary, but it couldn’t hurt.

“So… what do you think happened with Hunter’s scar?” Amity picked up her pencil case from the desk, she knew Luz would forget it otherwise.

“I don’t know.” Luz answered quickly. She gathered her books in her schoolbag

“Hehe, maybe he couldn’t see where he was going through that hair and bonked against a wall. I swear his hair is growing faster than mine.” She held her own, now faded-pink hair up from the sides, but Luz wasn’t watching her. She didn’t really react at all. Amity decided to change the subject. “When does the bus get here?”

“I don’t know, soon.” Luz said, starting to feel a little antsy.

“What’s it like in there anyways?” Amity handed her the pencil case before she closed her bag.

“Boring- I don’t know…” She shook her head. Again, her eyes looked so sad. Amity still wanted to cheer her up, but she wasn’t sure how. Maybe she could tell Luz a story about the flying bus back home.

“Ya know, in the Boiling Ilses-“

“Yeah! Um...” Luz interrupted her, she looked a little alarmed. She pointed to the window. “Sorry batata, but I gotta go.”

“Oh. Right, of course.” Amity stepped aside, receiving a kiss on the cheek before her girlfriend practically sprinted away. She stared at the empty doorway.

The room fell silent and cold.

Her heart felt heavy in her chest, as she descended the stairs again. She tried not to feel so dejected, but it just wouldn’t go away.

It had been 6 weeks since her entire life turned upside down. That’s 1 and a half months. Or 42 days. Amity spared herself from calculating the hours. She didn’t need to count those.

Who’s counting anyways? Not her. She’s fine. She’s perfectly fine. She’s strong. She didn’t need to know. She didn’t need to think about it.

She didn’t need to think about her siblings or her dad. Or her home. Or her entire planet. Or how her girlfriend had become a little distant, hadn’t asked how she was doing in a while, hadn’t opened up to her lately.

Hadn’t comforted her about all the things she didn’t need to think about.

It was strange. Even though they had been living together for 6 weeks, and constantly saw each other, they barely had time to talk. Actually talk.

It wasn’t Luz’s fault! She can’t read minds. Amity just missed her bubbly girlfriend.

But it was fine! She is strong. And if Luz couldn’t be optimistic right now, she’d be strong enough for the both of them.

Starting with a portal to the demon realm.

She gathered her friends from the kitchen and they went to work in the clubhouse. They were close, she could feel it. They had a plan for a new portal door, which used palismen magic as substitute for Titan’s blood. They just needed to figure out a good set up.

Which was apparently impossible!

Especially if no one was helping her! Gus was busy teasing Willow, while she made magic flowers in the corner. Something about ‘livening this place up’. As if that mattered right now.

Hunter and Vee were in the other corner talking about a stupid old chair that had probably been there for centuries. She could hear Hunter fussing about ‘fixing it up with a sewing machine’ or something along those lines.

That was not important right now!

Not only were they doing nothing, they were also distracting her. Gus’s endless questions about Amity’s earlier nurse-comment, was making it very hard to focus.

She was trying to draw a schematic for the portal, but she couldn’t hear herself think.

And the scratching!

Oh sweet Titan, the constant itching from Hunter. What on earth was that guy doing? Did he decide to wear a sweater made of Griffin fur? Or whatever the human equivalent of that was!

“GUYS!” Amity yelled to get everyone’s attention. It worked, because 4 very surprised faces turned to her. Good. They better listen up. “Can we please focus on making this portal?!”  “Sure, we just-“

“No! Because we finally have an idea that might actually work, but you guys aren’t doing anything!” Amity watched her friends eye each other.

“Vee, you go back to the house and gather the portal-ingredients we bought yesterday. Willow and Gus, you guys go to the store and buy those metal cables. Hunter, you get over here and help me make a schematic - and stop scratching!"

"Alright! Damn!” Hunter threw his hands in the air. He gave her an incredulous look. “What is with you today?"

"Nothing!” Amity looked around at her friends, all of them seemed bewildered.

Okay, she may have overreacted just a little bit, maybe. She had the tendency to explode when something was annoying her, and then she’d just keep going. Like opening the floodgates.

“Good luck bro.” Vee slapped Hunter on the back. She slithered to the door faster than Amity had ever seen her slither before. She transformed in her human disguise and disappeared.

“Quick, let’s get outta here.” Willow elbowed Gus in the side and they also made a break for it.

Amity looked down, feeling her face warm up with embarrassment. She had definitely overreacted.

“Okay…” Hunter walked over to join her at the round table. He sat down carefully on the mini-cooler and breathed out loudly. “I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.” Amity said exasperated. He slowly reached out for the pen she was holding, giving her a look like she’d bite his head off. She slapped it down in his hand.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence. Hunter drew possible idea’s on how they would generate palisman magic. Amity monitored closely.

“Soooo…” Hunter began, clearly testing the waters. The death glare she gave him didn’t stop him though. “What is with you today?”

“Nothing.” She said again, knowing he wouldn’t buy it. She looked at his encouraging smile, which was lopsided thanks to the bandages. She sighed. “I wanna go home.”  

“Of course.” Hunter said with sore understanding. He waited for her to continue.

  “And I can’t do that unless this works.” She tapped her schematic repeatedly with her index finger. Those half-scientific drawings, held together with hopes and dreams.

“Yeah, but… those have kind of always been the stakes right?” Hunter said cautiously. He was on guard for any signs of Amity getting mad again. She was only surprised. He was seeing right through her. “Did something else happen?”

Amity looked at her hands, picking at her finger nails. For some reason, the way Hunter asked felt familiar. Sometimes he had weird instincts about these things.

“Have you noticed that Luz seems more sad lately?” She said, trying her hardest to not sound completely heartbroken.

Hunter took a deep breath. He averted his eyes and hummed in a way that showed how big a deal it was. For both of them.

“I don’t think she expected it to take this long.” He fumbled with the edges of the schematics.

“I wanna talk with her, help her. Cheer her up, you know?” Amity asked and he nodded. “I just don’t know how.”

“Why don’t you go on a date again?” Hunter suggested. “You can talk with her privately, but also cheer her up.”

Amity stared at him. It was so simple, he’d come up with it so easily.

“That’s perfect.” She was shocked.

“Well it’s not portal science.” Hunter laughed and she rolled her eyes. Then she remembered something and her face grew an evil smile.

“Maybe you should take your own advice.” She kept her voice sweet and innocent. She was plotting a perfect comeback, the poor boy had no idea. He only turned to her puzzled. “With a certain plant witch?”

Her scheme worked exactly as she wanted. Hunter’s confusion turned into wide-eyed recognition for a split second. Then his whole face lit up with a blush just as bright as that morning.

“D-Didn’t you wanna focus on the schematics?” He stammered. Amity cackled, happy with how her plan came together. Hunter hid his face in his hands until he calmed down.

They eventually went back to work. The idea flowed more easily. Funny how such a simple idea could mean everything. Amity felt a lot lighter now that she had a plan. Her brain was already busy designing a perfect date. She bumped Hunter’s shoulder.

“Thanks by the way.”

Hunter was sitting in the basement, sewing a pink armchair cover with the machine. Vee had helped him sneak it out of the clubhouse.

He really wanted to fix it and this seemed like the perfect time to use the sewing machine Camila had given him. She was delighted to find out he like sewing and taught him how to use the machine. It was very fun, she was a nice teacher.

Flapjack was snoozing nearby on the table. He had made a tiny nest of fabric scraps. Every now and then, he’d wake up to check Hunter’s progress. He’d compliment him when he did a good job. Or when he did a bad job. Flap still didn’t really understand sewing.

Like when Hunter accidentally stitched his sleeve onto the fabric. After telling Flapjack that, no that really wasn’t a good thing, he flew upstairs to grab a pair of scissors. He also suggested to wear something with short sleeves for the time being.

Hunter was a little paranoid that someone would come downstairs and see his scars. Which usually wasn’t bad, but some of them were still… shedding. Flapjack, being the hypocrite that he was, told him it was fine and went back to sleep.

He might be cute now, but Flap wasn’t as peaceful earlier. The little bird had gotten the shock of his life when he saw Hunter with those bandages. His ears still hurt from the loud chirping.

But explaining what happened to his own palisman was a lot easier. He already knew all his secrets.

Selkidomus scales, of all things.

He had read a lot about them when he’d lived at Hexside. The Selkidomus was an strange creature, an amazing representative of the Boiling Ilses’ standards. But they were difficult to study, thanks to them slowly going extinct.

As much as they still didn't know, the bestiary was quite extensive on the demon. There was a lot more information than there was about Grimwalkers. Hunter had felt a strange comfort reading about their traits and life history. It was easier to latch onto something he could actually learn.

He also felt a familiar pang of guilt whenever he thought of the creatures. He knew he was to blame as well, even if he technically never killed one. For days he had been hiring pirates, casting tracking spells and sailing the ocean.

He was hunting his own kind... in a way.

Was it normal for him to feel connected to those creatures? Is that why Belos told him to capture one? Did Belos make every Golden Guard hunt a Selkidomus? Were they all just collecting the ingredients for their successors?

Hunter shivered, half involuntarily and half in an attempt to shake those awful thoughts. Such a barrage of questions was painfully common nowadays. He tried to not fall into a spiral. Again.

“Hey bro,” Luz’s voice startled him. She was halfway down the stairs and hung over the railing. “Watcha doing?”

“Oh hey,” Hunter relaxed when he saw she was alone. “I’m fixing that old chair from the clubhouse.”

Luz jumped over the railing and landed on the couch. She sat down beside him and came way too close to the sewing machine, blocking his view on purpose.

“Ooooh cool!” She laughed.

“It is cool.” Hunter said as he shoved her head out of the way. Flapjack woke up from the commotion and went to greet Luz, who gave him all the head scratches he wanted.

While she was busy with Flap, her expression seemed to fade a little. Her smile was still there but her eyes looked somber. Hunter was reminded of what Amity said earlier in the day.

“Are you okay?” He asked worried. Her head shot back to face him.

“I’m fine! H-how are you?” Hunter raised an eyebrow. Luz grimaced, she heard it too. She just hoped he wouldn’t-

“Rough day at school?” There it was. His kind expression was nothing but a trap! He’d be all understanding and nice, and then she’d tell him all her problems.

“Yup!” She admitted just to move on quickly. She was here to check on him, not the other way around. “Anyways, I was thinking about this morning.”

This time it was Hunter’s turn to feel uncomfortable. They both had something they didn’t want to talk about. But he had literally been bleeding this morning, so his thing would have to go first. He sighed and checked the stairs to see if the coast was clear.

“Is it a Grimwalker thing?” Luz whispered after following his gaze.

He nodded, but didn’t explain anything just yet. A big part of him wanted to explain it to her. To ease Luz’s concerns and have her mediate with the others. Another part of him felt guilty that she was constantly the only one he wasn’t lying to. It seemed like they were always sharing secrets in the basement.

He also just didn’t want to admit it. The demon realm is weird, witches are weird, Luz herself is weird, but Grimwalkers are on a whole different level. It was embarrassing.

“My scars… shed.” He finally managed to spit it out. He looked back over at Luz. Their eyes locked for a solid minute of silence.

“I’m sorry, what?” She finally said after blinking a few times.

Hunter groaned and he let his head fall on the table next to the sewing machine. It was nice and cushioned from all the fabric scraps. Flapjack flew from Luz’s hands onto the back of his head.

“There, there kid.” He chirped and rubbed his beak over Hunter’s hair in way of patting him. Luz did the same thing on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna need a bit more information, bud.” She was trying to be supportive but that was hard when she was utterly confused.

Hunter sighed and moved so that he was laying on his chin. He checked the stairs one last time. Flap climbed up to nestle on the top of his head. He chirped a few encouraging words and Hunter sat up. He just wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

“So, I’m made from Selkidomus scales. And the Selkidomus goes through a shedding phase every now and then. So…” He made a motion with his hands to put two and two together. Luz seemed to get it. “When a shed isn’t ready to come off yet and it gets ripped or whatever, it damages the skin underneath. That’s happened a few times before. So I’m guessing I ripped my shed in my sleep and that’s why I was, uh… bleeding.”

“Huh.” Luz stared at him blankly and the basement entered another uncomfortable silence. It was definitely not the weirdest thing she had seen in the Boiling Ilses, but this was also definitely not what she expected. “So it really is just something that happens sometimes?”

“Yeah.”

“You shed.”

“Yeah.” He showed his upper left arm, where the scar was a little flaky. Luz had a befuddled expression. “But only on my scars.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know!” He threw his arms up with sudden misery. He dropped his hands on Luz’s shoulders and held tight as he looked her directly in the eyes.

“I don’t know! There is zero information about grimwalkers. Nothing! The only thing all the books can agree on are the ‘ingredients’. I don’t know anything about me!” He whisper-yelled the avalanche of his feelings. The sudden misery turned into hopelessness and a tiny hint of crazy.

“Oh right, that-”

“You know what I do know Luz? I know that the locals on The Arm collect the scales, because they believe it brings luck. But I don’t feel lucky!” Hunter shook her back and forth. He was being dramatic for the bit, while also meaning every word he said. “I don’t feel lucky at all Luz!”

“Okay, okay, calm down!” Luz laughed as she grabbed his arms to stop the shaking. Her brother slumped over his sewing machine, fumbling the loose threads with a grumpy expression.

He had forgotten Flapjack, who slowly slid off his head. The cardinal made an undignified chirp before remembering he could fly. He landed on the table in front of his witch and whistled anxiously.

Hunter patted him to let him know it was okay. He was dead serious, but he wasn’t seriously upset.

“It’s really not that bad.” Luz said. Hunter glared at her, thinking she was lying to make him feel better. “No really. I’m just glad you’re okay. This morning was a lot.”

“I’m sorry.” Hunter’s guilt was having a field day with this entire situation.

“No,” Luz playfully chopped his head. “it wasn’t your fault.”

Even if that wasn’t what she meant, it was true. He's gone too soft, too relaxed. How could he just forget about his shedding? How could he ignore the signs? Just because he was tired?

“I just-“ Luz continued. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. I couldn’t focus!”

“Is that why you had a bad day at school?” He saw an opportunity to change the subject and took it. He wanted to move on before they even started talking, but now he was really eager for a new topic.

“Ah, I see what you did there.” Luz grimaced again. There had to be a way to avoid this. Apart from making Hunter feel guilty. More than he already did, at least. “Yes, but also no! There was something else this morning…”

He waited for her to continue, looking at her expectantly. He had told her about his thing after all. Now it was her turn.

“Everything in due time.” Flapjack chirped at his witch.

“He says you gotta say it.” Hunter translated falsely. Flap looked at him bewildered and Luz smiled at it.

“Did he now?” She asked as she propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. Flapjack chirped indignant. He tugged hard on Hunter’s hair-noodle.

“Well it’s only fair!” Hunter defended as he tried to escape his bird.

Luz laughed at their antics. Hunter seemed to feel better after telling her. She knew the same would probably be true for her, but she was ashamed.

“I was mean to Amity this morning.” She admitted after contemplating for a while. She knew he was the last person who’d judge her.  “Mean?” Hunter’s face scrunched in doubt. That’s not what Amity had told him.

“She was just trying to be nice and I was being blunt and rude.” She hugged herself around the middle, looking at her brother for any hints of disappointment. But suspicion was still written on his face. “It’s true!”

“Okay, okay.” He sat back upright and put on a more serious expression. Flapjack made a soft trilling sound, making Hunter look from him to Luz. The tiny cardinal nodded encouragingly and the witch turned to his sister a little unsure. “Why were you being rude?”

“I don’t know.” Luz responded in surprise. She hadn’t expected that question, but it was definitely the right one to ask. Flap really was a wise old man in the shape of tiny bird. “Stress?”

“Why?” Hunter was glad Flapjack’s suggestion worked. His own instincts were to just comfort Luz, tell her that she couldn’t have been that horrible. Now he realised that wouldn’t make her feel better.

“Because!” Luz yelled, but more words wouldn’t come. Why was she stressed? She groaned. “Everything?!”

Flapjack flew onto her shoulder and chirped faintly. She couldn’t understand them but it sounded comforting.

“Again, not your fault, but this morning was a rollercoaster. And then I was scared I was gonna miss the school bus. But I also just didn’t want to go at all.” Luz became more anguished as the truth spilled out. “It’s already been 6 weeks! I have to go to school now. I’m wasting almost the entire day, while I should be making a portal! I should be getting you guys home!”

Luz’s feelings-avalanche was just as miserable as his own. Hunter wasn’t sure what to do know, so he resulted to following Flap’s lead. His palisman was still on Luz’s shoulder, gently rubbing his beak against her face. Hunter patted her head awkwardly. Luz laughed weakly.

“School is not a waste.” He tried jokingly, still coming up with something better to say.

“Human school is.” Luz pouted. She knew it was important, but it definitely didn’t feel like it. Hunter shrugged.

“I know it’s taken longer than we wanted, but you can’t lose hope.” He ruffled her hair and Luz ducked away. Flap jumped down to the table again, chirping his support for those words.

“I know and I’m not.” Luz said honestly, then she sighed. ”But I gotta get that portal working before I lose my girlfriend.”  “Calm down drama queen.” He laughed. “You and Amity are fine. The Boiling Sea would freeze over before you two break up.”

“But I don’t know how to apologise.” Luz whined. This was a big deal to her. She hated disappointing Amity like this. “I’ve been avoiding her since I got home.”

“Well that’s not smart.” He admitted, Luz gave him a grumpy look. He tried to ruffle her hair again, as he thought of a solution. A plan hatched in his brain. “You could take her on a date, to make it up to her.”

Luz lit up. His idea was absolutely perfect. The first time she’d taken Amity on a date in the human world, they both loved it. It was exactly the mundane, slice of life date she promised her. And it was awesome.

“That’s genius!” She looked at him excited. She would make this the most perfect date ever.

“I know, right?” Hunter said with a cocky smile and his palisman rolled his eyes.

She jumped up and sprinted back up the stairs, on all fours of course. She refused to use that thing like it was intended.

“Alright, bye!” He called after her. He laughed and shook his head as he went back to his sewing. Flapjack flapped his wings happily.

After just about 40 minutes, the armchair cover was done. He went upstairs to find Vee, so they could go to the shack and fix the chair for real. He found her in the living room. She was watching tv with Willow and Gus, all sprawled out on the couch with some snacks.

Their mission to go into town alone and buy those wires had apparently been intense. Gus had told him about something called a ‘plastic bag fee’ they didn’t know about. Which meant they didn’t have enough money. They had been scared to death about going to jail.

The poor cashier had tried to talk with Willow, but she insisted that they’d take the bags back. Gus had carried all the wires himself while Willow frantically pushed the money in the cashier’s hands. Then they escaped at breakneck speeds.

Hunter could only imagine the breakdown he’d have if he was in that situation. They had acclimated pretty well, but sometimes it was clear how foreign they really were. Luz was dearly missed on those missions.

“Hunter!” Gus greeted after hearing him approach. Willow and Vee turned around too and waved at him. “Welcome back to the upstairs world.”

“Hey guys.” He greeted back. He held up the fabrics he’d been working on for the past hours. “I’m done with the armchair thing.”

“Woah you already fixed it?” Vee slithered off the couch and over to examine his handiwork. She showcased it, so that the others could see it better.

  “It looks great!” Willow commented and Gus nodded impressed.  

“Thanks” He said sheepishly. He knew he still had a lot to learn, but it was nice to get compliments. Especially from her.

“Can you help me put it back on the chair?” He said to Vee. He was eager to complete his task and didn’t want to hang around for too long.

“Sure.” She agreed and they moved towards the hallway.  

“Hey wait,” Gus stopped them in their tracks. “How’s the… uh- cheek situation?”

“It’s fine.” Hunter told him. All three of his friends looked at him with utter disbelief. “No really, I’ll probably take the bandages off soon.”

“If you need help, you know where to find me.” Willow said with a caring look in her eyes. Hunter could feel his ears catch fire just thinking about it, or just remembering this morning.

He was saved from having to form a response by Amity and Luz walking into the room, hand in hand. Hunter was happy to see it. Although, it seemed like he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

“Looks like the lovebirds are back to normal.” Willow said as she propped her arms over the back of the couch for a more comfortable talk.

Amity and Luz looked a little flustered, surprised that their friends had noticed. But they were also very happy to have overcome their brief awkwardness.

“I have a sneaking suspicion that Hunter had something to do with that.” Vee pointed finger guns at him. It was hard not to notice that both girls felt better after a conversation with him. The boy had a gift.

“Yeah, you might call me a relationships expert.” Hunter said sarcastically. Many people rightfully scoffed.

“You told a couple to go on a date.” Gus pointed out with a deadpan expression.

“Exactly, who could’ve thought of that?” He responded jokingly, grinning from ear to ear. Or ear to bandages in his case. It earned him a few laughs, but Luz saw her own opportunities.

“Fangs.” She pointed at his mouth, evil smirk and all.

“Stop!” Hunter covered it on instinct. His fear was short-lived, turning into annoyance as he glared at her. “This joke is getting old!”

“It’s not a joke, Hunter, it’s the truth!” Luz yelled passionately. Vee nodded in agreement. She used Hunter’s shoulder to jump up and ruffle his hair.

“Embrace your fangs!” The basilisk yelled with the same enthusiasm as their sister.

“They are teeth!” Hunter escaped her claws and made a break for the hallway. He was going to fix that armchair with or without her help. Vee decided it was with her help, changed into her human disguise, and went after him.

The girlfriends joined Gus and Willow on the couch. Cuddling as they settled, like the cuties they were. Gus was very glad they were back to normal as well. Besides, it reminded him of something. He turned to his bestie.

“If you need help, you know where to find me~” Gus repeated her words with an over-the-top sweet voice. Holding his hand elegantly under his chin and smirking.

Willow’s cheeks went pink. Her eyes dashed from the tv to her friend, completely caught off guard. She pushed Gus away as she tried to cool off her face.

He just couldn't pass up an opportunity to tease those two.

Willow had told him everything about this morning. She had been very flustered and he practically had to drag it out of her, but it worked. Gus knew all. And he was extremely salty that he had missed it.

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damn-stark · 1 year

Text

Chapter 17 When you believe

Chapter 17 of Sandstorm

A/N- Practice did them good, that’s all I’m saying ;)

Warning- Swearing, FLUFF, long chapter, and there’s changes that depart from the show!

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*15 YEARS LATER*

“Your Grace,” he bows his head and then slowly drifts his gaze to your left side and parts his lips but doesn’t say anything, as if debating whether to acknowledge who stands by your throne. “…Princess,” he finally adds and straightens up.

You draw out an exhausted breath and press the man. “State your business, Lord Umber.”

The old man slides the hat off his head and clutches it in front of him as he holds your gaze. “I am sorry for the disturbance, My Queen, but I don’t know what else to do. It’s the Wildlings, they’ve—”

“Freefolk,” the young girl at your left side cuts him off to correct him. “If you’ve come here to complain then please address them correctly.”

You can’t help the proud smirk that tugs on your face as you look at your left side to share the gesture with your eldest daughter, and heir, Rhaenyra.

She notices from the corner of her eyes and passes a soft smirk before you’re both forced to listen to the man complain about the Freefolk, as a lot of Northerners often do. You’d think after a decade of the Freefolk being apart of the Kingdoms, the people would stop being so judgemental, but no, they continue to whine.

“The Freefolk,” the man corrects himself. “Summer snow has struck the North, and I know it’s nothing to worry about here, but it is over there. They do nothing but steal like wild ravagers. I want them out of my lands. It’s time the Crown does something about them.”

It’s always the same thing over and over again. It’s fucking annoying.

“Freefolk business is to be dealt with Princess Sansa Stark,” you remind the man of a law that’s been set for 15 years.

The Lord nods and shuffles forward, making sure to be cautious of the swords that align the steps that lead to the Throne. “I have gone to the Princess of the North, but I always end up with the same response that nothing can be done. That’s why I have come here personally.”

You nod and sigh, wanting this to be over, but you just shift in the seat and continue to address his problem. “My Lord, have the Freefolk robbed you personally? Because if they have then it is to be brought with Princess Sansa Stark, there are laws that need to be followed, including them. So if they have robbed you, beaten you, or done any destruction to your lands then please say so.”

The Lord twists his hat and glances at the Lord Hand below the steps, and then at the Grand Maester at the other side and finally meets your gaze again and nods, letting you know all you needed to know, it’s all bullshit.

“They’ve gotten to steal from our flocks,” the man shares. “Every other night, one goes missing or one wakes up all dead and covered in blood. How am I meant to keep my people fed? I want justice.”

Gods.

You sigh and nod softly. “All right, well I’ll write to Princess Sansa Stark, I will tell her to send two Knights to your land and stand guard for a week. If you are right then the Freefolk at fault will face trial, if not then you may rest easy and know it was not them.”

The Lord nods and then bows his head. “Thank you, Your Grace. I know that I will be right.”

You hum and offer the man a tiny smile that lasts until he’s out of the sunlit throne room. “All right,” you sigh and stand up from that hard ass throne. “Well my Lord Hand that is all for today. Thank you.”

The Lord hand bows and takes his leave, letting you turn to Grand Maester Samwell Tarly. “Grand Maester, may you send Princess Sansa a raven and let her know what we’ve discussed here today please.”

The man bows his head. “Of course, right away your Grace.” He then scurries off, letting you walk down the steps and then head to the courtyard with Rhaenyra beside you, and four Queensguard behind you.

“I bet it’s just a pack of wolves getting into his flock,” Rhaenyra interjects when you leave the throne room. “It’s rare now to hear of the Freefolk doing any harm.”

You scoff. “Yes, that’s exactly my thoughts, but you know,” you sigh. “People are still prejudice about the unknown. They’re scared. But the key thing to do in these cases is…” you trail off and let her finish.

“Have patience,” Rhaenyra fills in.

You smile and meet her pretty dark eyes that match Jon’s. “Exactly, even when they cry wolf.”

Rhaenyra tries not to, but she can’t help but giggle.

You grin and look ahead. “Pun very much intended.”

Rhaenyra scoffs; and you know she rolls her eyes.

“Still he came all this way,” Rhaenyra adds. “I wonder how much of his flock is left now. With luck all so he can learn his lesson about whining.”

“With luck,” you retort. “None are dead or else he will come back and give us headaches.”

“I suppose you are right,” Rhaenyra agrees.

“Aren't I always?” You tease.

Rhaenyra stays quiet, causing you to look at her with a playful narrowed glare. She meets your gaze and simply shrugs.

“Father says it’s okay to be wrong,” she counters smugly. “There’s no mistake or shame in it.”

You wrap your arm around her shoulders and shake your head. “But I am your mother and the Queen, I am never wrong. My word is law. Literally.”

Rhaenyra scoffs softly. “Father says even rulers can be wrong.”

You beam at her and press your forehead against hers. “Very good. Your father has taught you well.”

She’s come a long way from being sharp tongued and short tempered. Well some of it still resides within her, but now that she’s been at your side more in your royal duties, she’s started to mature. It both saddens and fills you with joy because you don’t wish her to get any older than she already is, but you also can’t help but feel proud.

“As have you, mother,” she assures you.

You hum softly and then press a kiss on the side of her head before you let go and walk out to the runway that overlooks the training courtyard below. And the moment you walk out you’re welcomed with the sound of metal singing as it clashes against one another, you hear playful training yard squabble, and instructions that come from Jon.

When you approach the railing you stop when you’re above a pair of boys training with swords. You rest your hands against the railing and watch as your son, Ryuu, shove his older brother off his feet with a swift lunge before he spins around him and trips him. He’s only 13, and Jon and Ser Brienne say he’s showing great potential; he’s beaten Jon a couple already in training.

“You’ve frozen up again, young Prince,” Ser Brienne scolds your older son on the ground. “Stop tensing up and watching. Watch and act.”

You lean closer and watch as Ryuu jumps up and down in celebration to his success, making the black curls on his head bounce.

“No celebrating,” Ser Brienne scolds the boy. “Focus.”

Ryuu stops and clears his throat. “Right sorry.” He walks around his brother and offers him his hand. “You did well, Daeron.” He compliments the 15 year old. “Nice switch.”

Daeron sighs and meets his brother's dark eyes that also match Jon’s eye color, and then takes his hand to let his brother help him to his feet.

“Thanks,” Daeron responds with disappointment as he begins to walk back to his spot across from Ryuu.

“You almost got me,” Ryuu counters and twists around to face Daeron. “Almost,” he jokes, with a smirk you know plays on his face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Daeron chuckles. “Just pay attention little boy. You won’t get me now.”

You smile at his good sportsmanship and watch as he fixes his grip around his sword's handle. And as if he can sense your gaze, he looks up and his green eyes meet your gaze. He offers you a soft smile that you quickly mirror.

“Good job,” you mouth to him.

Daeron’s smile widens, causing Ryuu to follow his line of gaze and notice you now too.

“Mother, have you come to see me beat Daeron?” He quips with a playful grin.

You shrug. “Maybe I’ve come to challenge you,” you remark.

Ryuu flashes you a grin. “I’d like that.”

You shoot him a wink and push yourself back to continue on, hearing him Ryuu taunt his brother. “I thought you were flirting with a girl for a second, but how can that be when you’re such a mommas boy.”

“Ryuu,” you warn him without looking over at him.

“Mother,” you hear him call back.

Before you can climb down the stairs to join the training yard below you turn to face Rhaenyra. “The business is all done for today, my girl, you may go change and join your siblings if that pleases you.”

Rhaenyra glances down below and watches everyone training for a few seconds before she meets your gaze and interjects. “Actually, may I go out and be with my dragon today?”

You nod without hesitation. “Of course. Go on, soar the skies. Just remember, strap up, and be careful okay?”

Rhaenyra flashes you a smile before she spins around and rushes off to do as she said, letting you turn to hobble down the stairs.

And just as you turn into the training yard you catch your youngest son and child, Aemon, miss the target a few feet ahead of him and hit some weapon rack instead. Because of it his two older sisters watching him begin to laugh.

“Which one of you was a marksman at 8?” You cut them off, catching all of their attention.

“I was,” Edria, your 11 year old daughter, counters smugly.

You scoff softly, and Oraena, the youngest daughter rebuttals her sister that’s only a year older than her. “You still wet your bed at 8.”

Edria gasps and turns her head slowly to face her sister with annoyance, before she leans over and shoves her playfully, making Oraena chuckle before she pushes Edria back. That makes Edria want to hit her arm, but Oraena runs off before she can be touched, making her sister chase after her around the training yard.

“There they go,” you comment under your breath and watch them for a moment before you look at Aemon. “You, my boy are okay,” you assure the sweet boy. “Now hair out of your face, maybe that’s why you’re missing.”

Aemon rolls his eyes, and then holds the bow between his legs to tie his wavy white-silver hair back to a bun that matched Jon’s. After he’s done he faces you and begins to sign with his hands what he wants to say since he can't speak. “Now, can father and I continue?”

You nod. “Go on. Shoot.” You tell him and point the target with your head.

Aemon grabs his bow again and takes an arrow to try again, and while he does you then look at Jon close to Aemon and walk to him with a smile.

The moment you close the gap between one another he grabs you by the back of your neck and gives you a kiss, making you cup his cheeks to deepen the steamy gesture.

“I missed you,” you say between kisses even if you had seen him not so long ago.

Jon smirks. “I missed you too.” He says back and you only move more in sync as if you have never ever kissed one another before.

Honestly as you gotten older you have only grown more passionate about each other…maybe that’s why you have six biological children. And why Aemon was such a surprise when you found out you were with child.

Perhaps if you had gotten together sooner than you’d have more. But then again you’re also glad you don’t have more, raising seven kids is a hassle and a frequent headache.

Regardless, when you pull apart Jon and wipes your lips with his thumb and interrogates you. “How was it?”

You sigh. “You know it was eventful…as always. Lord Umber came.”

Jon blinks in surprise and narrow his gaze. “Lord Umber?” He repeats. “Whatever for?”

“You’ll like this,” you say sarcastically. “He came to complain about the Freefolk.”

Jon rolls his eyes and sighs out of annoyance. “I swear one single Freefolk can pass by minding their business and people complain. When will it end? I can’t imagine how much Sansa has to hear about it.”

You chuckle and nod. “But that’s why she has Mors, he helps her keep level headed.”

Jon smiles softly and nods. “You are right.”

You shoot him a smirk. “I always am. I was right about them.”

Jon scoffs, but before he can say anything back, the sound of a stomping foot steals your attention to Aemon.

“Can you two stop,” he signs with annoyance expressing in his dark eyes. “You can kiss later when I’m not here. It’s gross.”

Jon and you chuckle. “Fine,” you give in. “I’ll go, leave you two men here. Just remember, dragon training later.”

Aemon nods in comprehension before he turns back to focus on his target practice with Jon.

“Just don’t think too much about it,” Jon advises the boy. “And relax your bow arm. Okay?”

You smile in awe as Jon walks to Aemon to help him with his stance, and stand there to watch. A few seconds pass and this time when Aemon shoots he hits the edge of the target.

“Good,” Jon tells the smiling boy. “That’s better.”

You smile wider and linger there watching as Aemon high-fives his father.

Some would say that your relationship with your children shouldn’t be as strong as it, some say only the father should truly bond with their sons, but fuck all that. Jon wants to be close to all his kids, every single one of them, you do too. Others also say that you should send them away, only keep the heir here and have the others be wards or do something else, they especially encourage you to send Daeron away, but your heart can’t bare sending him away, you can’t send any of your kids anyway, besides what can other people teach them that you and Jon can’t?

Besides, you don’t trust anyone else to raise your children. Sure dealing with royal duties and children is difficult, but Jon is a big help, your court helps as well with royal duties, that’s why you have them. You can juggle both things, you enjoy it. And why have a big family if half of them are gone?

That’s why they’re all still here, that’s why you’re close to all of them. Or as close as you can be.

If Rhaenar were still here…the family would have been even bigger, he’d be a grown man with kids of his own….

Tears fill your eyes but you don’t cry, instead you turn away and walk to Daeron and Ryuu, noticing Ryuu lose this time because he was distracted by Samwell Tarly's youngest boy, Jon, passing by.

Daeron also notices that and then looks at you to share a teasing look you mirror. Ryuu only focuses back when you approach Daeron to help him.

“Hand less tense,” you advise him. “And make sure your feet are not so spread apart.” You use your own foot to push his legs closer together. “And…” you trail off and pull his arm closer to him. “There better.”

Daeron takes note of his stance and then looks at you and gives you a thankful nod. “Thank you mother,” he whispers.

You shoot him a smile and stand back. “Go on, show me.” You encourage, but as you watch them match again, you notice the judgmental stares the passerbyers give Daeron. Albeit when they catch you glaring at them they look away and go back to what they were doing.

Sure it’s obvious that Daeron isn’t your kid, nor may he look like a Baratheon like Daenerys wanted everyone to believe. Sure his eyes are green unlike your children’s who all inherited Jon's dark eyes. Daeron may be tall and slim because he resembles his real father, Daario. Sure Daeron doesn’t have that common Targaryen silver hair, but neither does Robb, Ryuu, Edria or Oraena. Yes his nose is aquiline like that of some of your Targaryen ancestors, he has that Targaryen beauty. But that doesn’t make Daeron any less of your child or their prince. Anyone who wants to argue against that can come speak to you and Eraxis. Simple.

“Have either of you seen Robb?” You ask the two boys once they finish their match. “I’m surprised he isn’t here.”

Daeron and Ryuu share a secret look before Daeron shares what he knows. “He’s off brooding somewhere.”

“Yes,” Ryuu bounces off his brother's comment. “He woke up in a very foul mood today. He’s at the cove.”

You hum and nod in comprehension before you part away to go there right away.

After a long walk to the cove behind the castle you find your eldest son, Robb sitting on the sand throwing shells in the water.

“Robb,” you make your presence known, even though you knew he heard you climbing down the stone steps.

Albeit even if you spoke he still doesn’t look back, he drops the shells from his hands and just watches the waves crashing on the shore in front of his boots.

“I didn’t see you with your father and your siblings at the training yard,” you continue as you slowly approach him. “Is everything okay? You like training.”

Robb lets out a deep sigh and drops his head, letting his black hair fall over his eyes. “It’s okay, you wouldn't understand.”

Oh, so we’re at that stage now.

You sigh and stop just behind him to take your shoes off before you sit beside him on the sand. “I can maybe try and understand then,” you press him softly. “Please.”

Robb blinks and keeps his head down, he stays quiet for a few more seconds before he swallows thickly and then interjects quietly. “I…I’m not like you. I’ve tried and I’ve tried to be like everyone else, but no matter how much I try I still fail. I’m…a disappointment. To you and father.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and feel as if your heart sinks at the sound of his words. “In what way?” You probe and cup the back of his head. “Because all I see is someone who’s trying, someone who’s growing up. You’re still young Robb. You will fail and that’s okay. That’s how we all learn.”

Robb slowly lifts his head and meets your gaze with tears clouding his eyes. “But I don’t have a dragon, mother. Everyone else does, even father. Mine failed to be born to me. How does that look? The Targaryen prince who can’t have the one thing that makes us special?” He shakes his head and pushes your hand off his bead. “While you and father and all my other siblings fly I sit there watching, while you train with your dragons, I continue to sit there!”

You sigh deeply and feel your eyes fill with tears as you remember having a similar conversation with Rhaenar once. “You know,” you mutter and glance out at the crashing blue waves. “One time, before you were born. I had a very similar conversation with your older brother Rhaenar….he was afraid that his dragon egg wouldn’t be born to him because he was only half Targaryen….” You pause and glance down at your hands. “Do you want to know what I told him?”

Robb drifts his gaze to you and hums to press you for more.

You muster a small smile and then meet Robb’s dark eyes. “That it wouldn’t matter if it was born to him or not because he is still a Targaryen, because he still is great. That’s all that matters, so I tell you this now, my boy. It doesn’t matter if you bond with a dragon or not. It doesn’t,” you shake your head. “I won’t love you any less. Your father and your siblings won’t.”

Robb scoffs. “Father doesn’t love me as much.”

You lean towards him and counter. “Nonsense, your father loves you, but you are the one to blame for the distance with your father. He’s trying to reach out to you and at every attempt you push him away.”

Robb stays quiet knowing you’re right, letting you once again cup the back of his head.

“You don’t need a dragon to be great. That comes from here,” you say and point at his chest. “There are some brave men who turned out to be not so great even with dragons. And there are others who didn’t have a dragon ever and are legends; like your name-sake, your uncle Robb. He was a hero, a legend and a King and he had no dragon.” You smile and begin to caress the back of his head with your thumb. “Your uncle Tormund is a great warrior and a hero, and he also has no dragon. Ser Jaime was a great swordsman and had no dragon. I can go on and on and name personal hero’s I know that had no dragons and are still legends.”

Robb shakes his head softly. “But you do, and you’ve stopped three rebellions already during your reign as Queen because of Eraxis.”

You nod softly, knowing you can’t deny those claims. “That’s true. But are you me?”

Robb scoffs softly in amusement and shakes his head. “No.”

“Nor I do want you to be me, or your father,” you continue to assure him. “You don’t need a dragon. Daeron doesn’t have a dragon either.”

Robb huffs and averts his gaze before spatting, “Daeron is not my brother.”

Your eyes widen and you quickly argue back against him. “Don’t say that. Daeron is your brother. I may not have birthed him, but he is your relative, he is just as much of a Targaryen as you and your siblings. He is your brother, I wish you would stop arguing against that.”

Robb drops his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

You swallow thickly and don’t dwell on that topic any longer, instead you return to your previous conversation. “All I’m trying to say is that, you are not and will be any less of a Tagaryen if you don’t have a dragon. Now being great, that’s all up to you.”

Robb glances out at the water before he looks up at the sky as the sapphire-blue dragon is spotted miles above the water, lost in the clouds.

“I suppose you’re right,” Robb agrees quietly and a bit unsurely.

“I tend to be so,” you joke, making Robb side-eye you before he snickers.

“Yes,” he agrees. “You are.”

You beam. “At least someone sees it.”

The corner of Robb’s lips tug to a soft smile, but it doesn’t last long because it then begins to fall and go serious again. “Uncle Bran…” Robb mentions. “Said that he’s seen my late brother's dragon, Helios, at Dragonstone…can I go and try to claim him? Drogon also tends to be there uncle Bran says, so can I please try once?”

You’ve heard what happens if people don’t bond with dragons when they attempt to do it, it doesn’t end well. But who would you be if you deny him?

“All right,” you give in, “but…we will all go with you. You know what happens if a dragon doesn’t want to bond with a rider. So just in case something goes wrong we will be there to protect you….I couldn’t bear it you didn’t come back.”

Robb flashes you a faint grin. “All right…thank you mummy.”

You mirror his gesture but you then lean in and press a kiss on the side of his head.

Robb groans and gently pushes you away and grumbles, “mother, please.” His cheeks turn a tint of pink and he looks back to see if your Knights standing guard at the entrance of the cove saw.

You giggle. “I’m sorry. Now,” you sigh and stand up. “Come on. Let’s head inside. You can train with your sisters today.”

Robb pushes himself to his feet and rolls his eyes as he groans in protests. “Ugh, they’re terrible. They never focus.”

——

*LATER*

No matter how busy a day can be, no matter if there’s guests staying at the castle, Jon and you eat dinner with all of your kids. As chaotic as they can be all together, even if they have poor table manners when it’s just you, it’s the one thing you looked forward to the most.

It’s also Jon’s favorite part of the day now that you don’t have to deal with them as little children you have to help feed.

Albeit the one thing that does annoy you is sitting down to eat, you’d think that they’d have a favorite chair, but they fight about the seats. Always.

Like now for example, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes down the hall, whilst Jon insists on helping you to your seat because he says that you put enough weight on your leg that never fully healed after that battle where Gendry broke it.

“It doesn’t hurt as much today,” you assure him with a smile. “I sat for most of the day.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jon counters. “Now stop complaining.”

You shoot him a grin while the doors get pushed opened and in comes running footsteps.

“No,” you recognize Edria grumble. “Aemon I sit there! Get…”

“Ahaha!” Oraena laughs evilly, and when you peer back you see she had snuck around them and taken the seat next to Jon. You also can’t miss her pink and purple hatchling perched on her shoulder.

“Bitch.”

“Edria,” you warn her as you let Jon go and sit on the head chair.

“Sorry mother.” Edria mutters and bows her head before taking the seat next to her sister, making poor baby Aemon walk around the table.

“Here,” you pat the empty seat at your right side since the left one was where Jon sits. “You can sit next to me.”

Aemon’s chest falls and he sits down as if he was forced to do so.

“What?” You remark playfully. “You don’t want to sit next to your mother? Does the Queen intimidate you?” You giggle as you see him slowly begin to grin.

As the food begins to get placed down on the tables surface the four eldest walk in—or only Rhaenyra and Ryuu walk in gracefully because Robb and Daeron come running in shoving each other to see who can reach the seat all the way across from you, because it makes them feel…special?

Who knows really. They just always fight over it.

But in all reality they shouldn’t because it’s meant to be Jon’s seat, but you didn’t like how far he was from you so he took a different seat. And then after that it was meant to be for Rhaenyra considering she’s the eldest, but the boys got to fighting so she takes whatever seat is open. Which in this case is next to Aemon and across from Oraena.

“Oraena,” you call out as you ignore the two eldest boys still fighting over the seat to glance at your youngest daughter, and the one that’s turning out to look just like your mother, Elia. Which is a blessing, but it is also a curse at the same time because it does hurt your heart a bit because you still miss your mother so much.

“What did we say about hatchlings at the dinner table?” You tell Oraena.

The girl makes sure that both Jon and you are paying attention to her before she parts her lips to argue. “He can’t be without me. Daddy you know that, I’ve told you.”

You sigh and shake your head. “He needs to start learning, O, he can’t be perched on your shoulder forever.”

“He won’t,” she rebuttals sassily. “That would be impossible.”

You draw in a deep breath and drift your eyes to your left to ask Jon for help since he’s always the solution when it comes to dealing with Oraena.

“Your mothers right, O, he can’t be here. He needs to start learning to be more independent. But it’s a long way back to your quarters, so have this be the last time.”

Oraena beams at him. “Thanks daddy.”

Well that’s as good as that’s going to get.

Now hoping the other dilemma is dealt with, you look ahead. And thankfully the boys are seated already with Robb being the one who won the seat across from you, and Daeron sitting next to Ryuu. So now you can finally begin with dinner.

“Now that we’re all seated,” Jon interjects while the last meal is placed across from him. “Let us join in prayer.”

You all grab each other's hands around the table and duck your heads to do as Jon requested.

And you weren’t one much for prayer or religion, but Jon was, and ever since winning the grande war for the throne, he’s made sure to pray as a family before eating. At first it was to give thanks to his gods that you made it out alive. But as the family grew his prayer changed. Now every single evening he thanks his gods for this life he was blessed with, all his kids, and you. Every single day it's the same prayer.

One time Edria asked why it was the same thing every single night, and he put it simply, that once when he was a young man in the Night's Watch, even when he was a boy, he never thought that having a family of his own would ever be a possibility. So now that he has it he thanks the gods that he was blessed, that it's real and it’s not all a dream he has to wake up from.

He made you cry that day he said that.

Alas, now after prayer the eating begins. It’s usually filled with chatter, or depending on the day it’s quiet and calm. Today a few minutes in Edria interjects.

“I have a very important question, for you both mother…” she trails off and glances at Jon taking a bite of his chicken. “Father.”

You put your silverware down and probe with a curious look. “Okay, share it then.”

Edria puts her cup down and shifts in her seat to face both Jon and you better, in doing so showing the scar on her face that she got from secretly sparring with some man twice her age in a competition. She was 10. It was red for weeks, and she was ashamed of it because she said it ruined her beauty because it was long and cut from the bridge of her nose down to the corner of her jaw. But now she’s grown to love the scar.

“How does a woman have a child?” Edria asks seriously, causing Jon to choke on his food, and for the four eldest kids to snicker at both Jon and their curious sister.

“Yes, please tell us,” Ryuu cuts in mischievously.

You let out a shaky breath, and ignore Ryuu. “Uh, why do you ask?” You ask Edria nervously since this is so out of the blue.

“The milkmaid is with child,” Edria explains with her eyes wide as she grows bewildered. “And she’s only 15! 15! and she has no husband.” She falls back in her seat and continues to look at Jon and you.

“Well,” you help her since Jon is taken back that his 11 year old girl is asking such questions. “One doesn’t need to be married to have a child.”

Oraena gasps and leans in to slam her hands agasint the table. “What? So does that mean that I can be with child? I kissed the stable man’s son!”

The four oldest laugh harder, while Jon gasps and snaps his head to the side to shoot her a shocked and angry look.

“Oraena,” he says sharply.

You giggle at the innocence of her worry and shake your head as you grab Jon’s hand to give it an assuring squeeze. “No, silly girl. You don’t get to be with a child by kissing. But how about Edria, you and me talk after dinner about that stuff okay?”

“I can draw you a picture about how it’s done, sweet little sister,” Robb jokes as he leans over towards Edria.

Jon’s gaze snaps to Robb’s and he snaps back. “You won’t do no such thing.”

Robb sits back and snickers as he fist bumps Daeron who also finds amusement in it.

“You can draw it for me,” you hear Ryuu whisper to his brother over the table.

A tap then hits the table at your right, and Aemon begins to sign when you look at him. “Can I know too?”

You part your lips to answer, but Jon does so before you. “I can tell you when you’re older, buddy. Okay?”

Aemon let’s out a deep exhale and nods along slowly, making Jon offer him a soft smile, and for you to end this conversation.

“Now let’s put those matters to bed and focus on another thing, Robb,” you pull him in the conversation. “Why don’t you share with us what we planned earlier, hm?” You grab your silverware again to continue eating.

Robb sets his things down to begin rubbing his knees nervously. “Well since I don’t have a dragon…I want to go to Dragonstone to try and bond with Helios. Uncle Bran says he lives there, so I want to go.”

You hum in agreement and after you swallow your food you add on for him. “Since bonding with dragons isn’t the safest thing, I thought we could all go. Watch out for him, and take advantage of the moment and have a small family trip.” You smile and glance at everyone around the table.

“That sounds like a good idea, mother,” Rhaenyra interjects. “Also gives me a chance to race against father again.” She snickers and sips her wine.

Aemon taps the table and when you look to him he quickly signs. “Can Catelyn, Nymeria and Eira go too?”

You let out a disappointed sigh and shake your head. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I’m afraid they wont make it. It’s just a small trip. But,” you try to assure him as you lean towards him. “Aunt Sansa and uncle Mors, and the girls will come in a couple weeks for a visit. That sound good?”

Aemon nods and grins.

“Really? They’re coming? Great!” Oraena asks with excitement since Sansa’s eldest daughter is 10 just like her, and they get along very well. It’s also why Aemon wants them to come because Sansa’s middle child, Catelyn, is 8 just like him.

“Anyway, Daeron, once we get to Dragonstone, maybe you can bond with a dragon too,” you direct at him so he doesn’t feel left out. “I’ve seen two wild dragons at the Dragonmount. That skinny brown one, and the teal one that looks like Ryuu’s. ”

Daeron meets your gaze and offers you a gentle smile and a light nod. “Yes, I would like that.”

You mirror his smile, and then share your happy smile with Jon.

Now all there’s left to do is hope that either of them bond with a dragon. If they don’t it’s okay, having a dragon doesn’t define them, but they really want to, so you’ll carry hope for them.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

“Boys,” Jon murmurs as he continues to try and progress what he heard Oraena say. “She’s kissing boys.”

You smile at the mirror you’re using as you catch his baffled expression while he lays down.

“How old were you when you kissed a boy?” Jon asks and looks at you through the mirror.

You turn around to face him whilst you continue to spread cream over your arms. “15. But don’t worry, when I asked Oraena she said she was just curious.” You pick the cloth from the vanity to clean your hands. “It's okay to be curious. If we try to forbid them from something they’ll only act out…I know that from experience.”

Jon chuckles softly. “I know that…” he trails off and sighs. “It’s just she’s so young…in my eyes at least. She’s my little girl.”

You begin to smile in awe as you walk to your side of your shared bed.

“What? Soon she’ll stop following me around as well?” He asks, making you giggle.

“Aye, she will.” You tell him the truth as you climb on the bed and crawl to his side. “She’ll grow up, get an attitude, she’ll want to leave and then Aemon will follow and we’ll be alone.”

Once you’re laying beside Jon, he wraps his arm around your shoulders and presses you agasint him as you both admire the ceiling above. “I suppose it’s what every parent wants right? For them to live their lives,” he whispers. “I was so caught up taking care of them that I forgot that.”

You press a kiss on his chest and then begin to caress his shoulder with your finger. “Yeah,” you agree softly. “They’re all so unique and chaotic…the day is never not eventful,” you laugh. “I never expected that.”

Jon hums softly. “Nor I. I always thought my life was going to be dull and boring in the Night's Watch….now…” he trails off as he can’t find what to say.

You albeit lift your head and meet his gaze. “What would you younger self say if he knew this was going to be your life?” You ask out of curiosity. “I mean you're a prince and have seven kids. Seven.”

Jon begins to smile in admiration and shakes his head softly. “I wouldn’t believe you. I wouldn’t believe it. I was a bastard who was just a burden to my family, a shame they had to hide. At the Night's watch I started from nothing and then rose higher, but I never knew if I would live to see another day…after I left that remained the same. Now—”

“You’re a Prince Consort,” you interject. “A hero of the Seven Kingdoms, my husband, and a father. A great one at that.” You grin at him and then raise your hand to cup his cheek. “Who thought you’d get this far huh?”

“Well I’m a great father only because I have you,” he compliments you and begins to caress your chin. “Without you I don’t know how I would do it.”

You hum softly and press a kiss on his lips. “Sometimes I think war is easier,” you admit.

Jon chuckles and nods. “Oh so much easier. I mean I don’t miss fighting battles, but it was easier. Now here with the kids I have to be careful how I step…one wrong move and someone’s angry at me…like Robb. Albeit with him I don't know where I went wrong. And if I try to retrace my steps I end up more lost.”

You exhale deeply and lay your head back down on his chest. “He’s just feeling left out without a dragon.”

“Is that what he said?” Jon asks.

You nod. “Basically yes. He feels like he doesn’t belong. Like you hate him because of it.”

Jon shakes his head quickly. “Never. I never could.”

“I know, but he’s just feeling insecure. It’s part of growing up, but the best thing you can do is keep trying, okay? Maybe try and talk to him. Take him out. Go hunting, or do something he likes.” You suggest.

Jon’s chest rises as he draws in a deep breath, and then pulls your head down as it falls when he breathes out. “I hope he wants to.” He says.

“Oh, he will,” you assure him. “My only hope now is that if he doesn’t get that dragon he doesn’t spiral. He’s so dependent on getting one. Like if his life depends on it. Is it bad to expect that from him?” You ask quietly as if Robb could hear. “Does that make me horrible?”

“No,” Jon answers without hesitance. “You’re just worried, we know how he is. You’re just preparing so it doesn’t sneak up on you….but I don’t know either…I think we just have to be there for him. Support him.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod in agreement.

You’ll still hope he does get his dragon though.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. DRAGONSTONE*

“I live simply with hope for a better today for tomorrow is not promised.”

You lower your gaze and meet the dark gaze of Rhaenyra as she closes the book in her hand.

“That’s my favorite book,” you tell her. “I especially like it when you read it to me.” You caress her chin and she flashes you a smile.

Due to her being heir, now that she’s older and understands more matters, you like to have her by your side at small council meetings, hearings, really anything to do with Queen duties to get her prepared. It’s why your relationship is stronger now than it was before, because you’re with each other most of the day.

“I know. It’s one of my favorites too,” she says as she flips around to lay on her stomach on the blanket you have over the sand. “What did you draw?” She asks you.

You smirk and hand her your sketch journal to show her the drawing you drew of her as she was reading with her head on your lap.

“I shall have it hanged,” she says. “Maybe in the art gallery at home. I love it. I wish I could draw as good as you.”

“You do have an amazing talent for music,” you comfort her. “You brought your father to tears when you played the harp for the first time, remember?”

Rhaenyra snickers as she drops her head. “Father cries for my smallest achievements. When I become Queen will he sob?” He pokes fun at him.

“I bet you he will,” you play along. “10 golden dragons that he does.”

Rhaenyra glances over at Jon playing some game with Ryuu and smirks. “I’ll take that bet.” She flips back around to lay her head on your lap and takes time to admire the blue sky overhead. “Can I tell you something?”

You hum in agreement whilst you look at Aemon a few feet down the beach flying his kite.

“Robb snuck girls into his chambers last week,” Rhaenyra sells out her twin brother, causing you to snap your eyes to her and shoot her a narrowed gaze.

“What?” You scoff in disbelief.

Rhaenyra nods. “He and Maester Sam’s Jon were getting drunk and probably laying with those woman.”

Oh not Sam’s Jon, you do notice Ryuu’s crush on the older boy. This will break his heart.

“Who else knows?” You ask her and catch Ryuu laughing with Jon.

“Just me and Daeron, just don’t tell him I told you,” she lets you know.

You sigh and look around for Robb and Daeron but they continue not to show up on the beach. “I’ll talk to your father and then talk to Robb. Because if he gets one of those girls pregnant he will have to take care of it.”

Rhaenyra snorts. “Yeah, sure he will. He can’t even wipe his own ass right.”

You lower your eyes to look at her and try not to laugh, but you can’t help but let out a soft giggle.

“Ahh help me!” A shout cuts through the breezes. “Let me go! Daddy!”

You snap your eyes to where it comes from and see Edria wrestling with Oraena in the shore. And just as Jon breaks away from where he is you get up to and rush over to the pair of girls to try and break up the fight.

“Edria, let go of your sister!” Jon yells as he tries to pull her off, but Edria shifts away and shoves Oraena’s face in the water, causing Ryuu to laugh and Aemon to grasp onto you with worry.

“Edria!” You yell out, but it’s like going to deaf ears. The Queensguard try to step in, but you assure them that it’s okay. And luckily Jon manages to break them apart, letting you rush over to Oraena to pull her out of the water.

“Tell me what happened?” You demand from both of them as you grab Oraena’s chin as you notice scratch marks on her face. “Now.”

“Oraena splashed water in my eye after I told her not to and it stung!” Edria shouts and pulls away from Jon. “She—”

“Edria bit me!” Oraena counters and throws her arm up to show the bite mark on her wrist. “And she shoved me in the water!” Oraena looks up at you with her eyes clouding with tears and then glances at Jon. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she whines.

You let go of her and then look over at Jon and meet his gaze. You don’t say anything, but you share a speechless conversation through your gazes.

“You’re both grounded, we’ll come up with your punishments tomorrow Oraena,” Jon breaks it to them. “Edria, since you swung first you won’t attend training for a week, nor can you go dragon riding for that same amount of time.”

Edria gasps and twists around to face you with that same disbelief. “Mother, you cannot allow this!”

You nod. “I can and I will, you're sisters, not enemies at war. Now go to separate parts of the beach.”

Edria huffs out before she yells and kicks sand as she stomps away, whilst Aemon steps towards Oraena and signs at her very seriously. “Careful, O, you might want to get that checked out, Edria has rabies.”

Ryuu chuckles loudly and makes sure to let his sister know what was said. “Edria does have rabies! Nice one Aemon!”

Edria spins around quickly and parts her lips to speak, but you shoot her a warning look and she just glares at her bothers before she turns again and continues to storm away.

“Daddy please it was not my fault,” Oraena begs Jon as she begins to follow him towards where Rhaenyra stayed. “You can’t punish me.”

Jon tries not to look at her since he knows he’ll probably give in if he does. “Sorry, O, but your mother is right. You’re sisters, you shouldn’t be fighting.” He tells her.

“Ryuu,” you call out without having to look over at him. “Leave Edria alone. You’ll get her even angrier.”

“Will not!”

You roll your eyes and get ready to add onto the converstion Jon is having, but you’re quickly cut off by a different voice approaching the beach.

“Your Grace, my prince.”

You look up and see Ser May dragging Robb along with her, and you notice he’s sporting a bloody nose. After her follows Ser Podrick with Daeron following at his side, and he has a cut lip.

Great another fight.

“What happened?” You ask as you slowly approach the group meeting you half way

“We found them fighting just in the valley above,” Ser May shares and pushes Robb towards you.

You swallow thickly and glance at both boys, seeing that Daeron lowers his head out of shame, and Robb just glares past you, making sure not to look at either Jon or you.

“Were there any weapons?” You ask the Knights.

Ser Podrick shakes his head. “No, Your Grace. They seemed to be just fist fighting.”

You exhale deeply and nod. “Okay,” you whisper. “Thank you. Leave us.” You then look over at Rhaenyra and point your eyes to the castle.

And without fault the two knights do as they were ordered, whilst Rhaenyra takes her siblings along with her, even if they want to stay and gossip.

It’s only once the kids are out of ear shot that Jon interrogates both boys. “I will ask nicely now, what happened? I want the truth.”

Robb meets Jon’s gaze and then yours, but he then drops his eyes and doesn’t answer, letting you press Daeron with a glare.

But he stays quiet too.

“You both are grown men,” Jon raises his voice. “Act like one and tell us what happened now!”

Both boys continue to stay quiet for a moment longer, so Jon steps forward and grabs Robb by the collar of his shirt and presses him with anger. “You are the oldest, Robb, tell me now.”

Robb scoffs and pushes Jon away so he’d let go of him.

“Robb,” you say softer. “Daeron, one of you has to speak. Your mother demands it.”

Just as you think you’d have to repeat yourself Robb grumbles. “Daeron claimed Helios. My dragon! My brother's dragon!” He sneers out at Daeron.

Damn it.

“I told you already I did not do it on purpose,” Daeron argues back softer. “It was not to spite you.”

You and Jon share a concerned look. And rather than trying to solve this, Jon lets you do it since you know more about dragons.

“Robb, it does not work like that and you know it. Yes I am sorry that it happened, but…it was just not fate for you to bond with Helios.” You try to grab his shoulder but he steps back from your touch. “Robb, you can bond with another. This is not the end and nothing to get angry over. Fate did not want it that way, it’s that simple.”

Robb sniffles and then glares at you. “You told me. You promised!”

You shake your head. “I did not do such a thing—”

“We were here for me!” Robb cuts you off abruptly. “But as always Daeron makes it about him!” Robb points at his brother and begins to stomp towards him, but Jon pulls him back. “Helios was my dragon!”

“Helios was no one’s dragon,” Jon rebuttals. “And it’s no reason to be fighting your brother for it.”

“He is not my brother,” Robb hisses and pulls his arm away from Jon’s touch. “He’s the son of a—”

“Robb,” you bellow. “That’s enough. Go to your quarters now. Calm down. We’ll go talk to you again.”

Robb throws his arms up and parts his lips to argue back, but he just glances at all of you before he lets out a feigned laugh and turns to storm away.

“Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t mean it,” Jon tries to assure Daeron. “He’s just angry.”

Daeron glances back at Robb and nods softly. “Yes, I know. You have to know I didn’t do it to be malicious. I found Helios when I was walking down to the beach and I just…” he pauses and his eyes soften as his lips tug to a smile. “I just had this feeling.”

You mirror his soft smile and nod. “Yes, we know that feeling exactly. And I know your intentions are pure. Robb is just…” you sigh. “Angry. Don’t let that ruin your moment. Okay? Celebrate if you must.” You grab his chin and caress it. “Congratulations my sweet sunspot.”

Daeron offers you a sweet smile and nods in comprhension.

You then exhale deeply and look to Jon. “I’ll go talk to the others, explain what happened.” You tell both men.

Jon nods and then presses a kiss on your cheek. “Go I want to talk to Daeron.”

You let your gaze linger on both Jon and Daeron once more before you break away and head for the castle alone with your thoughts.

Like why is it that Robb and Daeron can’t get along. And it’s not like no one can get along with Daeron, it’s just Robb who finds his indifferences with him. But why? You nursed the both of them, they got long as toddlers, you don’t favor one over the other, so why?

Sometimes it feels like you’re failing her…Daenerys. You try so hard, but no matter what, Robb can’t find it in his heart to welcome him, to think of him as one of his siblings. It can’t be just because they’re men, there has to be a reason, but what?

“I’m sorry Daenerys,” you whisper to the blue sky.

A/N- One more chapter left! 😓 also did you catch the parallels?

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject @dark-night-sky-99 @starwarssluts @stargaryenx @defiantblade12 @cloudroomblog

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jinkookspencil · 2 years

Text

unlucky in love

Your best friend Namjoon proposes a surprising, prolonged backup plan for the decades to come……

“Would….Would it be so bad?”

“You and me. You and me stuck with each other.”

tags/description: ~6k words / namjoon x (f) reader / angst / fluff / friends to lovers(?) / pining / no smut but alludes to sex possibly happening at one point / no triggers or warnings, except swearing / happy ending / slow burn within their timelines since this takes years…. / jane austen references, title is a reference to p&p but fair warning i might just change it to 'unlucky' in the future / three ‘chapters’ / age of namjoon in each chapter: 1: ~27, 2:~32, 3: ~36 / chapters are separated by little ✣ ’s / feedback always welcome!

author’s note: every time i say I’ll upload my jin fics another fic pops into and out of my head - this namjoon fic came out of nowhere and i just thought to upload it to celebrate the release of indigo. the jin ones are coming very soon though. </3 proud of this though, besides the jin wip series, this is my first longer work!

Namjoon was a catch. An ideal man. The perfect man, really. It wasn’t hard for you, one of his best friends, to see why practically every woman on the planet fell for him. It wasn’t just the people who knew him, either. You could see it in the barista’s eyes when you grabbed coffee together. You heard your friends’ countless gushes over him, even the ones that were taken. And you couldn’t blame them…. He was smart, a little goofy, respectful, manly, sometimes endearing, and he was pretty easy on the eyes too. Every woman’s dream. Practically a Jane Austen character come to life.

You could see it, understand it….you just never…. felt it. Namjoon was a close friend. Nothing more. Nothing less.

You always had to dismiss people who thought otherwise or thought that that’s how you knew each other. Work had made your paths cross a few years ago when you were both in your early twenties and taking your first steps into the world of art. When he walked into your job at the film institute one morning, he had wanted to find out more about the artistry of film, the one realm of art he didn’t explore as thoroughly as paintings, sculptures, and literature, which you had always thought of studying as well. A quick conversation about film turned into an hour-long discussion on art and passion; the rest was history. Whenever Namjoon came back to learn about film, you took the opportunity to ask him about literature and art, whenever he brought it up, and before you knew it a friendship formed. He was the only one that got you, on your passions, art, and, as you’d later find out, in life.

Movie nights at his place and your place were common, as were trips to libraries and bookstores to pick out different reads, which you’d begin at coffee shops over cronuts and pies, but you enjoyed your regular late-night therapy sessions just as much, talking about life and its complexities, sharing ideas and personal philosophies… He was the only one that ever cared about that sort of thing…. And even when it got to discussions on love, everything remained respectful - especially when the other was in a relationship. Boyfriends came and went, with only one ever getting “worried” about Namjoon, whose girlfriends came and went over the years as well.

You understood art, you understood each other, you just never understood love.

It was the main topic of conversation on your cold, December walk, trying to figure it out as you always did.

“Why are we just so unlucky?” you complained. “Do you think there’s something wrong with us? Are we attracting these weirdos?”

He giggles. “I wouldn’t say that. We’re just ourselves, aren’t we? And don’t be mean. People just play a role and live fake lives because they don’t know any better. What did that guy tell you once? Didn’t he say that he was an author but it turns out he paid someone to write some fake short story about a cloud or some shit? Didn’t they even write the good morning texts he sent you?”

“Oh god, don’t remind me of that lazy ass, Joon,” you shake your head. “As if you didn’t date that girl who said she was an art curator but couldn’t pronounce Monet.”

“Ay,” he sighs. “I just wish people were honest to themselves, you know. So what, if you can’t pronounce Monet and didn’t like art? That girl was fine, she was just a compulsive liar. I can’t have that.”

“Sincerity is dying, Kim Namjoon. It lives in you and me only. And in, let’s hope, a lovely man out there who proves me wrong. And in someone for you, too.”

“Let’s hope. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck with each other.”

“Oof, can’t have that,” you laugh, but a couple of steps later you notice that Namjoon had stopped walking, the bite of the hotteok he had taken from the dessert in your hands lingering in his mouth for a moment too long before he swallowed it.

Eyes squinted in a far off-gaze, with his head tiled, you knew Namjoon was in thought. As always, you stopped and stared at him until he came back to Earth, not to interrupt his train of thought.

“Would….Would it be so bad?” he finally speaks.

“Would what be so bad?”

“You and me. You and me stuck with each other.”

W- all of a sudden?!

“Namjoon?!”

“Listen, I know we’re friends. Just friends, right? For all these years? And even right now… like sorry, Y/N, but I don’t know if I feel so attracted to you… I think I know too much and we’re too alike but that’s not the point. Just… Would it be so bad?” he asks, but he goes on. “I guess you’re right, we’ve both just been so…. unlucky. I like to think there’s someone out there for me and for you but… I can’t deny that I’m losing hope, at least for myself. You are, too, you just admitted it. The new year is starting soon and I've been thinking about what I want in life... And… I want a wife. I want kids. And..”

“Namjoon, what the fuck are you saying?!,” you yell in the middle of the snowy park. “Kids?!”

“Not now!” he explains. “Of course not now. But… look they always say ‘marry your best friend’, right? Well, you’re my only ‘best friend’ that’s a girl. It’s not like I can ask Yoongi to marry me.”

You feel your head spin at the words spewing out of Namjoon’s mouth.

“Kim Namjoon! A wife, marriage, kids, what the fuck are you saying?”

He takes a deep breath and grabs your elbow, leading you to sit on a nearby park bench.

“Breathe, Y/N. I thought this through and we can scrap the idea and pretend like I never said anything, but just hear me out for a moment, with a calm mind.”

Looking at Namjoon, still confused, you take a couple of deep breaths before you nod at him to continue talking.

“I’m not saying this for right now. What I’m saying is… in years, if we’re still friends, if we’re still single, if we’re still unlucky in love, if we still get each other…. If, and if, and if…. Why don’t we… why don’t we give this a shot? Just as a backup? We can either try a relationship - but that might be too weird because you know,” he tilts his head, “As I said, I think you’re not… and I am not… at least right now, anyway… Anyway! We can do that or we can just… get married regardless. Maybe have kids some way or the other. I know you want that in life but not right now, and I feel the same. And who knows? Our ‘wants’ can easily change…. But if…. It’ll be nice to share my life with my best friend.”

You stare at Namjoon, taking in his… proposal. “When?”

“When should we do this?” he assumes is your question, staring up at the sky while he figures out an answer. “When I’m around 35, 36, 37? That seems good for both of us. That gives us plenty of time to find someone else, if that happens and…”

“No, I mean… when did you come up with this idea?”, you ask.

“Oh, just right now when we were walking over there,” he says, pointing to the place he froze.

“And you’re so ready to make this offer?!”

“You’re my best friend!” he exclaims. “Wasn’t this always a safe space for us to just say what’s on our minds?”

His tone couldn’t be more serious, even with the gentle expression on his face.

“Look, it’s just an idea. It’s just a backup. And hey if in the future you or I feel like this conversation was a bad idea we can forget it ever happened. Wouldn’t it be nice to spend our nights watching films everyone thinks is too pretentious, talking about life, then in the mornings visiting libraries and galleries, with hotteoks and coffee? And not have to worry about lovers who never gave a shit about all of that? It’s about more than that but…,” he pauses. “We can still do it as friends, but…. just in case we don’t find that with someone else….”

You stare at Namjoon. He was your best friend. He understood you more than any lover, or any friend, ever had. Would it be so bad? To marry your best friend?

“And what about the issue of attraction, Joon? We both think that’s important. I hate to break it to you, bestie, but I’m not attracted to you, either.”

“That’ll resolve itself,” he laughs. “We’ll probably be too old to care. Or.. we’ll see…. There are so many ‘if’s’ for this to happen and I don’t know what future Namjoon will think. It’s just an offer.”

You had plenty of time. Sure, you’d find someone…. Sure, he would too - if given the chance, hundreds of girls would line up just for the chance to date him. OF course, you’ll both find other people…. But for now…. Would it hurt to not completely disregard your best friend?

“I’m living every girl’s dream… getting proposed to under conditions, with the guy telling her she’s unattractive and saying he’ll be stuck with me.”

“Sorry, just think of yourself as a modern-day Elizabeth Bennett,” he smiles.

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself by insinuating that you’re a Darcy,” you say, making him laugh.

“So… when you’re 35?” you ask after a moment of silence, looking at Namjoon through your eyelashes, picking at the paper packaging of your shared dessert in your hands, his twiddling with the strings on his hoodie.

“Around?”, he answers.

You nod, smiling at your best friend.

“Okay. That gives me plenty of time to find an actual Mr. Darcy.”

“I’m sure he’ll bewitch you, you idiot….”

✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣

“Finally, it’s been too long.”

Those are the words you’d greeted Namjoon with the moment you spotted him waiting for you outside the cafe. It had been too long. Over the years, you kept in touch as best as you could, but with hectic work schedules and different careers, it was hard to see each other as often as you used to in your twenties.

“It has,” he smiles, wrapping an arm around you in a hug. “What has it been like 5, 6 months? How’ve you been?”

You catch up for the next hour over coffee and pastries, talking about life, the world, and art, as you always had, as if you’d just seen each other the other day. But, as the sun began to set and the cafe got too busy to relax in, you were reminded that your long-anticipated hangout day was slowly coming to an end.

“I don’t know if it’s our age or if that croissant ruined it, but how is this iced latte so sweet?” he wonders, taking a sip of the extra coffee he ordered to go as you watched the summer sky change colors in the park.

“Let’s switch,” you offer, handing Namjoon your iced americano. “You never liked coconut milk, anyway, why would you order it with your coffee? Dairy is still bad for you, huh?”

“Yep. I can’t power through the intolerance anymore,” he laughs. “Could it be possible that my girlfriend’s dairy intolerance made me even more intolerant?”

“The model, right?” you ask.

“Yep. She’s…alright. And hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you…. how’s that guy you’ve been seeing? How long has it been now? A year?”

“A year and a half,” you nod. “That’s actually the reason I’ve been rushing to see you…

I…uh.. I’m engaged.”

Namjoon’s pace slows. “Oh.”

Oh?

“Uhm, congratulations,” he says sternly.

“Thanks….” you murmur, side-eyeing Namjoon who just stares at his feet as you both continue to walk.

“Do you like him?”

“….Of course, I like him, Namjoon. Why else would I accept? Why else would I date him for a year and a half of my life?”, you snap.

But Namjoon remains quiet, merely nodding in the silence.

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” you say.

“I would be…. If you were happy.”

“I am happy,” you say, stopping him and standing your ground.

“Then where the fuck is your ring?”

You quickly hide your hands in your pockets in a feeble attempt at concealing the truth he just spat out. He had given you a ring. A diamond ring with a gold band. One he said reminded him of you. Even though you told him you hated diamonds, and only wore silver. It was the thought that counts, right? The gift…. The proposal. It didn’t matter that he didn’t bother getting one that fit either, it was too big and too…. not you. As he said, you should be grateful that he finally popped the question…..

“It was too big,” you say meekly, and Namjoon scoffs.

“Even so, why didn’t he get it resized? Why isn’t it on a chain around your neck? Is it fucking gold?!”

“I…”

“To this day… even if we don’t see each other as often, I’d still consider you my best friend,” he interrupts you softly. “I know you more than anyone, Y/N. If this is the same guy you talked to me about a year ago….,” he sighs. “I know the movies you find romantic, the books and characters you fawn over, the tropes you like, the art that affected you… and I know he isn’t.. he wouldn’t… He wouldn’t do all the things you wanted, all the things you deserved, Y/N. What happened to that hope you always had, even whenever we called ourselves unlucky? Where is my best friend? The Y/N I knew, who looked for a Darcy or a Knightley or whatever the fuck? That Y/N? She wouldn’t settle for someone like that.”

“I woke up. I was delusional. I realized that I don’t live in a fucking Jane Austen novel, Namjoon. There’s no one else, okay?”

He shakes his head. It stings more than anything, seeing the disappointment and…. hurt…. in his eyes. “Your reason for marrying a guy is ‘there’s no one else’? Y/N….”

“Don’t bring up that stupid ass deal now, Namjoon.”

“Did I?!”, he asks, and it’s the first time you sense anger in his voice. You rarely could… even over the years.

“Fuck the deal. Look at the guy you’re marrying,” he spits the words out, the last word escaping like venom, before rubbing the space between his brows. “How many times did you come to me because he never got you, huh? Because he never made any effort to do so?

I just want to see you happy, Y/N.”

“Well, open your eyes, Namjoon because that’s what you’ll see.”

But you walk away the moment he looks at you, knowing you’d be unable to hide another lie, nor the tears forming in your eyes.

He knew you too well.

✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣ ✣

“Did you hear who’s here?”

Looking up from your notebook, you see the excitement in your co-partner’s eyes… under all that blue mascara and funky makeup.

“Put that thing away! It’s a party. Guess who’s here?”

“Who?” you resign, putting your tiny notepad and pen in your purse.

“Only your FAVORITE film director, AND he’s looking to fund the film institute, AND he’s newly single.”

You contain your excitement, but she’d never realize it was there. “You talk like a teenager when we need to get down to business, ‘partner’. Is he really here and looking to fund it?”

“And he’s single,” she reiterates. “Oh, and the Kim Namjoon is here.”

…..Oh.

“He's so handsome, isn't he? And on top of all that talent? I think he’s looking to put together some pieces for an upcoming exhibition in his gallery… And word on the street is he's looking to get into film, too. Actually….," she pauses, "you two seem like a good fit. I’m sure you’ll work together one day.”

The thought of seeing Namjoon made your heart race, but really there was no reason for you to be surprised. The both of you had become prominent people in the art industry… It was more surprising that you hadn’t bumped into each other in all these years, dancing within the same circles. And you always promised yourself…

Still, you were there for work, you reminded yourself quickly. Sure, it was a party, but everyone networked at these things. And you had a film institute that needed funding….

The night went well, you mixed and mingled with so many people that were interested in film and the institute, and you can’t help but feel a rush when receiving your favorite director’s business card, complete with his personal phone number…. Where that’d go, you couldn’t tell, but his brief mention of funding and a collaboration idea was more than enough. Lost in the adrenaline, you forgot about Namjoon entirely….

“Y/N, there you are!,” you hear from behind you,. It was a partygoer you had just met….a familiar, looming figure was talking to someone else behind her. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere! Have you met Mr. Kim Namjoon?”

Of course. This was it.

The all-too-familiar figure turns towards you, his glaring eyes fixated on yours for a moment so long you missed the partygoer’s unnecessary introductions.

“….Miss Y/N here is a leading figure in the world of film,” you hear, “which I know you expressed interest in delving into, Mr. Kim.”

“You don’t need to introduce Miss. Y/N L/N to me. It’s good to see you,” he says with a smile, eyes still locked onto yours, but you don’t miss his fingers twitching around the glass in his hand before he outstretches his other arm.

“It’s good to see you too,” you reply, shaking his hand. Just as soft and big as you remember it to be.

“Oh! Have you… met?” the elderly lady asks from somewhere in your peripheral vision.

“We have,” you simply respond with a nod, but Namjoon elaborates.

“We… now.. we now know of each other.”

“Oh…. Well… why haven’t you collaborated yet?! I’ll leave you to it, figure it out and make it happen,” you hear the woman insist and briefly see her figure disappear into the crowd.

“It really is good to see you, Y/N,” he says, finally breaking the silence between you in the otherwise noise-filled room.

“Same to you, Namjoon….”

“I’m proud of you and all that you’ve done. I never got the chance to say that.”

“Thanks. I’m proud of you, too… ‘Mr. Kim’,” you laugh.

“Oh,” he winces with a chuckle, “It sounds even weirder coming from you. At this age and I still haven’t gotten used to it, to all of…. this,” he says, waving around to the party behind him and taking a sip of his drink.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like a good party, Kim Namjoon, I know you too well.”

“You do, you do…..,” he says, nodding. “And I do, like a good party. But you know just as well as I do that this isn’t a party. This is just… networking and business.”

“Yeah… and you’re interested in film, all of a sudden….”

“Not all of a sudden, Y/N, you know that, but it is time for my foundation to step into film. We've neglected it for far too long, but… fuck I don’t want to talk about that…” he waves off. “You’re the only one here I can have a normal conversation with…”

You had both begun to hear distant calls of ‘Mr. Kim Namjoon!’

“….Can we step out for a while?”

Just around the corner from the gallery the event was held at, was a quaint yet artsy bookstore and bakery hybrid that was surprisingly still open at this hour. But at the employees’ silent acknowledgment of Namjoon, you suspected he was a regular… or the more obvious answer, they recognized him as famed writer and art philanthropist, Kim Namjoon.

“Sit, I’ll get us some stuff,” he says, before returning to you with two coffees and two pastries. “A lemon flavor and a dark chocolate one… Because we’ve gotten so old.”

You chuckle, taking a bite of the bittersweet dark chocolate pastry, the perfect cup of coffee in your hands, the beautiful bookstore you were in and wondering how you never found it, but most of all you were taking in the moment… Taking in the fact that you were sitting opposite Namjoon again. Taking him in. With his eyes wandering around in thought, and a smile on his face. Already, it was as if no time had passed at all. Except, age looked good a bit too good on him.

“Coffee, desserts, bookstores, and probably late-night conversations with Kim Namjoon… Takes me back.”

“Yeah…..” he thinks aloud, eyes still scanning above and below as he does…. “Yeah, I missed this.”

“…So have I…. I’m sorry I never reached out, Namjoon.”

“Don’t be,” he says, looking at you through his brows and taking a slow sip from his coffee. “I never reached out either.”

And…,” he starts, rubbing his hands together before continuing, “ I don’t know if I can take another year,” he says, breaking the silence. “Friends again?”

You don’t even have to think about it. “Friends again.”

“Good,” he sighs with a wide smile, his eyes still forming little crescent moons when he did so. “Phew. Finally, I’ll have someone that gets me. Maybe we both changed over the years, but even so, I’m just glad I’ll have someone to talk to about books and art again. Someone that doesn’t want something out of me or isn’t bored out of their mind when I do so like Yoongi. I made the funniest joke the other day and he just ignored me like I hadn’t said anything.”

“What was the joke?”

“What do you get if you cross a painter with a heavyweight boxer? ….Muhammad Dali.”

You scoff. “Seems like Seokjin rubbed off on you. Kim Namjoon, you haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you,” he says. “I saw you with your little notebook. Who brings a notebook to a party?”

“I was writing down information I knew I’d forget! Do you know how many people introduced themselves? I need to differentiate the flirting guy from the ‘kid faking that he’s in the industry’ from ‘serious collaboration potential’! They’re all in that sacred notebook, with a description of each person!”

“The flirting guy, huh? In addition to that too-good director? I saw him give you his number...” Namjoon chuckles, before going silent. “Whatever happened with… to the engagement?”

Despite having no contact with Namjoon over the past couple of years, there’s no way word wouldn’t have gotten to him. Despite everything, if you had made that mistake, he still would’ve been invited to the wedding.

“You know, Namjoon.”

He nods. He knows. He probably knows that he’s the one who woke you up from that nightmare too. But nothing needs to be said.

“Yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Whatever happened to that model by the way?”

“…Which one?” he smirks.

“Fuck off, Kim Namjoon,” you throw a flimsy napkin in his way, laughing while he explodes into his hearty, hyena laugh - the one he rarely lets out.

“Oh, it’s been ages since I heard that,” you say, pretending to wince at the noise.

“It’s been ages since it came out of me.....”

“Why? Seokjin’s not around? Too busy with his wife and kids?”, you ask.

“He’s around, still as funny, but… I don’t know, you make me laugh…differently…”

“It was your joke! You basically made yourself laugh, Joon,” you giggle.

“Oh, fuck,” he says. “…'Joon’…”

You search his face, trying to sense what he was feeling but you couldn’t tell what it was…

“No one called you that? Over the years? It seems like a… common, easy nickname for you….” you say calmly, wondering why no girlfriend or lover ever used the soft as summer nickname for the man who was the same.

“People tried to,” he shakes his head. “I never let them.”

“Why?” you ask, eyes narrowing. “Why, Namjoon?”

“Y/N…. I know I don’t have to explain sentimentality to you.” His gaze shifts from the paper cup he toyed with to your eyes, and again, you just sit in silence.

It was time.

“You know, Namjoon, I did a lot of thinking…. over the years… About myself, the world…. You know, we called ourselves unlucky but we’re really quite stupid.”

“I know,” he nods. “We are, but… go on.“

“It was stupid of us to attribute it all to luck and the world. Especially because… all these years, I don’t think either of us really knew what we were searching for. We chased the empty label of ‘love’ without defining how that’d look like to us. And that’s what I’ve been working on.”

“And?”

“And…. After countless movies, books, art, and a lot of self-reflection….. I finally have an idea.” Your eyes wandered as you talked, but you were determined to keep them on him, who listened intently, as you continued.

“I have an idea… of what love looks like to me. Whenever I thought about what I wanted, what I had and experienced… I realized that what I wanted was what we had. That friendship, that support, that empathy, respect, trust, honesty, and understanding… that… love.

I loved you, Namjoon. I love you.”

“And I loved you…and love you. I always did and always will,” he says immediately, calmly. “But…. what exactly are you saying?”

You knew he meant it as you did. You didn't need to define what type or over-analyze it and sub-categorize it as you would have when you were younger. It was love. Deep, true love. And it’s now or never...

“Is that offer still on the table?”

A chuckle escapes him, as well as the smile he tried so hard to contain.

“You needed to rewatch all those movies and reread all those books to figure it out? I could’ve painted you a picture years ago. But… you never even asked if I was single.”

“Are you?” you ask, hoping the quiet chuckle you let out concealed the bubbling feeling of regret in your chest. “Or is there another model? Some artistic muse? What did you call that one from years ago? ‘Alright’? ”

“The model, the curator, the.. whatever, they were all… alright but… wrong. No one ever… got me,” he admits, raising his eyebrows when he sees you nodding at his use of your words. You were on the same page. “I stopped searching for someone who did…. and then I went to that party.

I always wanted that for you, Y/N, but I never realized I needed it too…”

Namjoon was at his most vulnerable, and so were you, laying your honest truth out to the person who knew you best…. But it was easier to see it in his eyes. It’s something you hadn’t seen in him since your twenties, but he seemed more sure of himself than ever. So ready to be vulnerable, so ready to be honest, so…

“So…." you say, partly thinking aloud, partly hoping Namjoon could continue the conversation.

“So, you finally get why I made that offer, way back when?” he asks.

“How did you know? We were in our twenties… Wait… did you come up with this because you had feelings for me all along?!”, you say, mouth agape in shock and amusement. You’d never doubt your friendship was a sham, but what if…

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not the Knightley to your Emma, idiot, I wasn’t attracted to you then. It was just…. something that felt right. It still does. I didn’t know… much.”

“So, the offer is still on the table?”, you ask after a moment of silence.

“Of course it is.”

“Are you 35?”

“A little older,” he winces. "All this time and you're still bad at math, huh?"

You roll your eyes. “Well, you said ‘around 35’.... so, we’re right on schedule. And I still need to be wooed, Kim Namjoon. I know you have it in you,” you smile, feeling confidence return to your bloodstream like a rush of adrenaline after years without it.

“You finally know what you deserve,” he says softly. “You are getting bewitched, Y/N, whether you like it or not.”

“Bewitched and hitched?” you laugh.

“Hey, don’t come for my job. Or actually, a joint poetry book or short film shit would be nice, we should do that,” he thinks, “but yes…. bewitched and hitched.”

Staring at the man you knew so well sitting opposite you, you couldn’t wait.

“‘When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible,’” you quote quietly.

“When Harry Met Sally…,” Namjoon nods. “You loved that film.”

“I do…” you nod. “so with that in mind, how soon can we make the wedding?”

He laughs, his hand reaching for yours across the table before he stands up and envelops you in a warm, soft embrace. Taking in his familiar scent of coffee and cologne, you don’t want to let go. In any way. But he does, only to kiss you on the cheek and giggle when you tip-toe to reciprocate.

“And if we fight?”, you suddenly ask Namjoon, your demons briefly popping in to ruin the moment.

“We used to. As couples do,” he shrugs, taking your hands in his. “All those ‘if’s’ worked out in our favor, didn’t they? It didn’t seem like they did….until today.”

He brushes a hair away from your face, fingers grazing your jawline. Amidst all the familiarity of the night, this was new…. His lips slowly meet yours in a kiss as soft as summer and sweeter than the chocolate you could taste on him.

Breaking away, his hand instantly finds his stomach. You don’t need to theorize what it means, but you can’t hide the shock you’re feeling. He could be so innocent at times, you remember thinking, whenever you saw him rub his belly button every time he got butterflies from a girl.

“Wow, do people our age still get butterflies in their stomachs?” You giggle, placing your hand on his. This was definitely new ground. “And to think I caused this.”

“I hate how I could never control it, it feels like a tickle," he smiles. "Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt this in a while, though... I wish my 'tell' was as subtle as yours.”

“I have a tell?!!,” you yell, immediately wondering if anything gave away that you were feeling the same way.

“You do. Not to bring him up but I never saw it with what’s-his-face and that's when I knew… But anyways, I think I’ll keep it a secret. So you don’t make a note of it,” he says while you roll your eyes, but in doing so a book behind Namjoon catches your eye and suddenly, you remembered your surroundings.

“Anyways, is this beautiful place magically open for us to have this moment?”

“Well, if you’d say that, then I’m the wizard.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Sweetie, I own this place.”

You momentarily ignore another ‘first’ in your life, Namjoon calling you a pet name, to take in the fact that he owned the most beautiful place you’d ever seen in your life.

“You OWN this place?! And you never told me about it? This is what I feel most betrayed about, Joon,” you huff, looking around. Of course it was his. Every inch of this placed screamed his name. No wonder you loved it so much.

“I guess I have to explain this one to you, don’t I? I saved this place from going bankrupt and completely revamped it. I thought of you every step of the way and… you know, I’m a romantic. I liked to believe one day you’d find this place by chance and just get that it was mine…. And that that’s how we’d meet. There’s even a screening room upstairs, beside the mini gallery, so I’m surprised you hadn’t found this place yet. There’s even a DVD section because you went on about the importance of physical media, which I now get. You didn’t even notice the name, huh?”

You look around, finding the minimalistic lettering and logo of the place on the far wall. “Unlucky - Art. Books. Coffee.”

“I love it, Namjoon,” you say, looking around in wonder… “And let me guess, you called it ‘Unlucky’ to defy the word itself?”

He nods, smiling as he walks over to you. “We were never unlucky. We were lucky… because we had each other.”

“‘Had’… I hate that we wasted those years in between,” you whisper.

“Don’t be. The years got us here. To when we could finally have each other… again. It’s not too late if it’s the right way, the right time....”

“Let’s go back to that party,, hmm?” he says after another hug, “I’m already excited to introduce you as my fiancé.”

“And then we'll leave and talk some more. I’m not wasting a single moment of my life from now on, Kim Namjoon.”

“Of course…,” he smiles. “We’ll leave and… talk. The talking that results in the other thing we said would come with this deal.”

You pinch Namjoon’s still squishy yet firm arm before taking it in your hands as you walked back to the party, anticipating what came next.

Whether it was talking, Namjoon’s new definition of talking, hearing him introduce you as his fiancé, working with him, or even just the next minute by his side. It was the rest of your life. He was the rest of your life.

And neither of you could ever let this go. This was the love you’d both been searching for.

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jellymellydraws · 10 months

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Masterlist ~ <<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter >>

Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 07 Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

The whole camp is at work preparing to dispose of Kagha. Astarion strikes a nerve when he complains about working for free. Rose delivers her first speech as leader of their group.

Shadowheart listed them off as if reciting from a scribe, as Rose commanded. One by one, a name was scratched onto the page. Quick descriptions followed. Last places where they were seen during the day. Unsurprisingly, many were managing the ritual.

This was starting to feel familiar. Not the writing, no— the act of noting down her targets. Considering which shadows she’d need to hide in. How she was going to direct her team. Her blade. This was as natural for her as it was to delegate tasks, analyze a problem— as natural as breathing, it felt. Another piece of her mind puzzle found its place, a small corner now revealed.

“If anyone is uncomfortable with what’s about to happen, you’re free to turn in for the night,” Rose closed the journal, eyeing the group that surrounded the table, “no judgment, no questions.” But no one moved, not even Wyll or Gale. She eyed the wizard closely, uncertain where the line was between Nettie’s attempted assassination, and their deliberate planning of one, “Are you sure?”

“She’s brought this unto herself,” he spat, “I’d rather we not spill more blood than we need, but alas it seems we have little choice if we want to get to Kagha.”

“Alright, let’s get ready.”

Lae’zel and Shadowheart had extra hair ties and pins to lend the woman with a murderous gaze. Focused, calculated, and prepared for a mission, Rose’s practiced fingers worked in familiar motions, pulling her hair back. The strands that usually draped in front of her face were twisted and braided along the scalp. The rest of her hair was brought together, high on her head, and tied. She moved on to organizing supplies to bring with them, sifting through a crate Lae’zel placed by the command center.

“I thought humans were incapable of seeing in the dark,” the gith commented as her leader examined a slim bottle of dark fluid, swirling its contents under the firelight.

“I’m looking for something to rectify that,” she answered. The bottle was gently placed back in the crate with a soft clink, “I can make due until I get inside their underground dwelling, but preparation is key.”

Rose moved on to the magical scrolls, flipping through them and scanning their incantations for something. But damns, she wasn’t familiar enough with the arcane to read these.

“Gale?” She called to the wizard, beckoning him over.

“How can I help?” he smiled softly, trying to hide the unease he had on his face since the tieflings left their small camp. She held the stack of parchments to him.

“I need darkvision.”

“Ah, you and me both,” he chuckled to himself, trailing off quietly when Rose continued holding the parchment at him, expression unmoved, “right, let me take a look through these, then.”

“Thank you,” she stood from her crouched position, patting a hand on his shoulder as the wizard sat himself down and continued sifting through their arcane options.

Astarion had been playing his violin while Rose strode around the camp making preparations. The music felt fitting for what she was doing. Soft chords, plucked strings, like the music was guided by her every step. Actually, that smirk on his face told her it might have been completely intentional. Cheeky, even. He followed after her when she entered her tent, continuing his playing until the final chord. If it wasn’t clear before, it would have hit her over the head with how obvious he made to accompany her preparation with song. As playful as he was, she wasn’t in the mood to play along.

“You know, I didn’t take you as the type to work for free,” he teased, “not that I have anything against this plot of yours, it sounds like great fun!“ She said nothing, only letting the sound of stretching leather respond as she equipped her armor. “If you were going to take the job, why deny the coin?” He continued, leaning to make eye contact with her, but she kept turning her face away. “Do you know how much assassins go for in the city?”

“5000 gold for a target like Kagha,” she answered automatically, tightening a strap. Rose froze. Then, hesitantly, “At least 100 more for each head on the way.”

She didn’t need to look at him, she knew he would have a single brow raised. Or a delighted little half smirk on his face like he got a juicy little tidbit. The same look he had every time she surprised herself with the surviving memories of her amnesia. It was amazing he hadn’t accused her of being full of shit by now.

“Well, then if you know that,” his pitch raised, frustration dripping through the cracks of playfulness, “why are you doing it for free?”

“Enough!” finally she whipped around and glared at him. No smirk decorated his face anymore, only his white brows raised in shock, “get out.”

“I—“ he backpedaled, looking at the tent’s entrance then back to her quickly. A light smile flashed across his face, “not that I’m complaining. You always have a plan, or an angle,” the excuse began, his mask slowly reapplying itself, “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind sharing it? Maybe I can offer assistance, of course!”

His shock and hesitancy took her aback. Always ready to tease and play, but now Astarion looked like he was scrambling to apologize for her outburst.

“I’m sorry, I...” a pang of guilt gripped her chest. The day’s events were hard on her, but taking it out on him wouldn’t help anyone. Especially not after how calm he had been towards her...quirk. A faint thumping began at the back of her skull. She took a deep breath, praying that it would ease. “I need to,” she said softly, glancing away from him, “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I hardly understand this tadpole situation, but I’ve managed enough. Try me.”

Rose rubbed her neck with hesitation, slowly moving to the back of her head to try massaging the building headache away. She could barely understand what happened herself, but the pieces were there. She remembered it, clearly. At least, she did now.

“Arabella might still be alive if I wasn’t there,” she finally admitted, pushing through her own remorse. The thumping began to spread, causing her to wince.

“You can’t possibly think you had anything to do with that!” He laughed, “You know that sounds ridiculous right?” Of course, this seemed like another joke to him. But then he got quiet. She wasn’t laughing either. Not even a hint of a smile. His brow furrowed, “You’re serious? You think it was your fault, somehow?”

The words couldn’t form in her head, not through the drumming that beat the walls of her skull. As she forced herself to remember, it got worse. Her stomach turned as if a serrated knife twisted within. The acrid taste of bile crept up her throat, but she swallowed it down. She stood as tall as she could, but even she began to realize how she started to shake. Then, a cool hand gently wiped the sweat from her hot brow. Astarion gently turned her face to his, examining her closely. Too close for comfort. Her chest tightened, nearly suffocating her. Jaw tensed.

“She looked right at me, Astarion,” she continued slowly, softly, through gritted teeth. Her eyes closed tightly as she fought the pain. Damns, his hands felt refreshing against her warmed cheeks. Carefully she placed her hands ontop of his, pressing them closer as if it would further cool her face. Another deep breath, she kept explaining, in a hushed voice, “maybe it’s all in my head, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I can’t explain it, I just know she wouldn’t have run if—“ she stopped, there were other ways to explain. One without her words. “Let me show you.”

How would she even do this? It was the first time she consciously attempted to connect tadpoles with anyone. Maybe if she…focused on the tadpole? Thought about the tadpole? She looked directly into his eyes. The usually subtle wriggling intensified. Astarion winced, his nose curling with discomfort similar to her own. Strange as it felt, she realized it was working. He let her in.

Rose let the memory of Arabella’s death resurface. She didn’t resist its images, nor the heinous thoughts she felt tucked away in them. The careful movement, the subtle glance, the mental urging, the baiting.

The hope that the girl would fall for it.

The connection lasted until the euphoric rush of the body falling still resurfaced. Then, immediately, disgust. The sickness returned. Guilt twisted her heart, and she pulled away from him. Not even bothering with an excuse, she just turned away and went back to fussing about her tent for…well, anything to look like she remembered that there was a well guarded, powerful, druid that needed to be assassinated.

“Well…” he stuttered, “that was…hm…”

‘Maybe this is a good thing’ she considered, back turned towards him, ‘I’m only walking around with horrible death thoughts in my head— some of which manage to take over and come true like I’ve been possessed by a monster. Someone here needs to be aware, right?’

“Now you know,” Rose finally said, “I need to finish preparing.”

“Of course,” Astarion bowed, showing a half smirk. A sympathy smirk, she surmised, “I’ll leave you to it.”

He picked up the violin that had been laid on the ground, and disappeared from the tent.

Now she just had to get her shit together.

Gale didn’t find a scroll of darkvision. Surprisingly, a grove full of elves, tieflings, and other humanoids who could see in the dark didn’t yield enough demand for such a thing to be in stock. This complicated her mission, just a little bit.

At the edge of the camp, she looked into the sanctum where the unsuspecting druids continued their ritual. It glowed a soft green of Sylvanus magic, the drones of druidic incanting faintly reaching her ears. How many guards were on patrol? Only two, the archers. Two people who had not made the list of Kagha followers, but they wouldn’t let a sudden attack on the grove slide. They’d need to be knocked out, and Rose wasn’t going to attempt that herself. Not after she lost control earlier that day. The route to the private sanctum was clear, but the animals that dwelled within posed another obstacle. As far as she could tell from that day: the animals were mere animals, anyone that had been a druid had since returned to their original form.

This wouldn’t be the easiest assignment, but she’d get through it. The tricky part was how they would handle the aftermath the next morning.

“Whatever you’re planning, I want in,” Astarion strolled over, donning his padded doublet as if he was called to action.

“I’m surprised, considering there’s nothing in it for you,” Rose deadpanned.

“I’ll admit, a bit of gold would have been nice,” he hummed, turning the dagger in his hand casually, “but a night of killing is a fine consolation prize.”

“How noble. You’re aware this is a stealth mission, right? Your violin would give us away,” but she noticed that he didn’t have the violin strapped to him. Just the dagger, “unless you really do know how to use that blade.”

“Slitting throats in the middle of the night? With shadows I can fall back into for a quick escape?” He smirked, “Yes, that I can handle.”

“Alright, consider yourself in.”

She turned on her heel briskly walking to the campfire, where everyone had now gathered. Shadowheart and Lae’zel stood at attention, like properly trained mercenaries. It was almost hilarious that the two were not fond of each other, considering their similarities. Gale looked apologetic that his one task yielded no results. Wyll nodded to Rose as she approached, geared up and at the ready. Astarion right behind her, was smirking ear to pointy ear as he sheathed his dagger.

“I know this was a sudden decision, but I appreciate everyone standing here, ready to help,” Rose addressed the group, arms crossed over her chest, commanding. Confident. Clear. “This business between the tieflings and druids was not one I intended to get involved with, but what we do tonight will aid us in our journey ahead. Maybe it doesn’t make itself immediately clear, but don’t underestimate the power of a favor owed. Tonight, we deal with Kagha. Tomorrow, we start our trek to the Goblins’ nest and find Master Halsin.”

“Here here!” Wyll cheered.

Next Chapter >>

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dark urge #astarion #jellymellydraws #astarion x tav #astarion x dark urge #fanfic #fanfiction #bg3 fanfic

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gayerthanevertbh · 2 years

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conversations with your demons - part 1.

pairing | step-mom!natasha x fem!reader (romantic)

summary | after my mother’s passing, i seem not to understand on why i can’t feel that tiny emotion inside of me. and natasha understood that, way too comfortably that her arms are the only thing i could feel.

warnings | underage drinking (they are all 18), natasha being a little “annoyed”, talks about a dead mother, READER IS 18 IN THIS STORY, mentions of SA and drugging. 18+!

notes | this was difficult to write, but i hope you enjoy the first chapter! let me know your thoughts and complains - i really don’t mind HELP

series masterlist | masterlist | taglist for this series

I met Natasha when I was only fifteen years old. So, I don’t know her that well. She looked kind but didn’t smile a lot. Although whenever mom would be with her, that’s the only time she’ll smile. To me, she would. But, she wasn’t as inviting as I hoped to imagine. She was also very funny, she made mom laugh until I could practically see her lungs getting out from her chest – speaking metaphorically. I would laugh too, but it would die down too quickly.

After they got married, Natasha bought a house that was sort of away from the city. They hated the crowd, the people most especially. I didn’t really care much, well a little since my best friend was living beside my home. Now, I have to cycle twenty minutes to get to her. Natasha has been the one who fixed up my room since I was the only child. I remember going inside my room for the first time and couldn’t believe that I had extravagant furniture around it. She smiled at me and gave me a nice warm hug, whispering how much she adores me. I adored her too, especially receiving things like that.

I was alright, I felt okay. Until I came home with the awful news that wrenched my stomach to the core.

I walked inside and saw Natasha sitting on the couch, with her palms on her forehead. She looked up at me with slight red puffed eyes – clearly from crying – and told me that mom died in a plane accident. At that time, I didn’t know how to react. I felt so many emotions that were hitting across my body, trying to come inside. But, I couldn’t feel anything. I remember so vividly that I nodded to her and smacked my lips, trying to explain somehow that I don’t know how to react. I loved my mother, I think she’s my best friend. But knowing that your mother died from an accident is something that I could not understand.

Now, it’s been weeks. After her tragic death, Natasha decided to cremate her since that’s what mom has always wanted. I never showed up at her funeral, I was too embarrassed with my actions since her death. It was all confusing to me, even though it’s not that hard to understand. When the ceremony happened on that day, Natasha visited me and gave me a tray of food. She demanded that I eat it since I haven’t eaten actual food for the last few weeks. I nodded and ate bits and pieces of the food while she was standing by the doorway to watch me eat. I didn’t finish the food though, I had no energy to. She understood that immediately and left me all alone in an isolating room where I can just rethink my thoughts.

This went on for weeks and weeks until I’m in the last week of graduation. Wanda tried contacting me before the big day, although I always hung up on the phone and continued to just lie down and think. Natasha would often see me – even begged to open the door since I had a lock on it. And every day, she would leave a tray of food on the doorstep – expecting me to eat it. But sometimes, it would be left unfed.

Now, I had to freshen up for the big day. But, I had to wake up earlier since I have gotten slow. Meaning, that I wasn’t as fast as I was before. And I didn’t want to stress Natasha, so I took a long warm bath and wore minimally natural makeup. I put on my robe and saw how much I lost weight, I don’t even know how many pounds I am, but my cheeks say it all.

Natasha came inside my room and was in awe of how I looked. I don’t understand with her kind eyes, maybe she’s just showing sympathy. Either way, I don’t know if I liked it. She smiled tightly and commented, “You look great.”

“Thanks,” I responded, letting out an awkward chuckle. I wore the hat that was on my bed and I watch her as she fixes up my sleeves, looking down at me like a proud mom. Although, I and Natasha always consider ourselves friends. We talked like one, there was no mother and daughter relationship in it. We liked it that way. Well, for her at least.

“You ready?” she asked, pinching my cheek a little that I could feel it prickle against my skin. I nodded weakly, remembering my mom in every movement I made. I know she’ll be proud, I don’t know if she’s a ghost though. I hope not – it would be embarrassing enough for her to watch me as I walked down that stage.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N.” Natasha says, smiling down at me. I could feel her sincerity through the glimpse of her eyes and the way she spoke to me, it kind of made me feel that relief. “I know things won’t get so easy for you and I understand, but I’ll be here every step of the way. Okay?”

It’s like I could trust her with my life.

“Okay,” I nodded, leaning my head against her shoulder until her arms were wrapped around me like a blanket. “Thank you, Natasha.”

For whatever fucked up reason, her grip around me felt too soft. Like, it wasn’t an embrace from a mother – since technically, I don’t see her as one. I was probably overthinking it since I didn’t have this kind of physical contact after almost a month. I felt at home and it all felt too natural.

“Let’s go now, dorogoy.”

—

I was happy that I didn’t trip on my way to the stage. But, everyone was staring at me as if they can’t believe a person who has been isolating themselves had just gotten out of their cage. Wanda was at the bottom of the floor, waiting for me. She knew my anxiety, and she was always there to catch me. Once that was over, I immediately got back to my seat and waited for the whole ceremony to end.

“There’s a graduation party later at night, can we go together?”

Wanda had her arm wrapped around my shoulder, knowing that I could fall at any second. I knew it was too much to ask, but she’s the only person I have right now.

“I don’t know,” I said with a dismissive tone. “I kinda just want to stay at home.”

Wanda sighs and pulls me closer to her, saying: “Come on, you have to go. This is something we should be celebrating about.”

Now, I wasn’t trying to be a “party-pooper” and I really didn’t want to go. Honestly, I didn’t give two fucks about a graduation party. But as I think about it – maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe this could take my mind off elsewhere other than just being cooped up in my room; possibly rotting until it reeks of smell. I didn’t have much choice here – and I wanted to have some fun too. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Fine,” I murmured, slightly flashing a smirk at Wanda until I could feel a pat on my shoulder. “But, I have to ask Natasha first if she’s okay with it.”

“I hope she does say yes,” Wanda responded. “It’ll be good for you. I promise.”

I smiled tightly at her and opened the school door, seeing Natasha was at the front door of the school with a lit-up cigarette that was in between her lips. She looked up, took it off her mouth, and smiled. Her lips seem to be a little chapped, I could give her my spare chap-stick.

“Hey, there graduate,” Natasha says, putting her cigarette back inside her mouth. I find it annoying that it was so close to my face, I wasn’t so fond of cigarettes. They smell disgusting and could kill you – but if I was asked to have one, I’d probably take it. “Ready to go home? We can celebrate with my famous pasta dish.”

Wanda buts in, “Kind of jealous about that, Mrs. Romanoff. I’d love to try some of that pasta.”

I turned around and looked at Wanda with a questioning stare, she said Mrs. when my mother was obviously dead. Knowing how blunt and talkative she was, I wasn’t really bothered. Although, I’m hoping she doesn’t say something like that again. There was pure regret on Wanda’s face and quickly blabbered, “I–I’m very inconsiderate, I’m so sorry–”

“It’s okay Wanda,” Natasha cuts her off, smiling brightly – too brightly – at her. “Have a good summer, okay?”

Wanda nods and walked away but before I get inside the car, she looks back at me and gives me that look. I should ask Natasha about that party, it would help me a lot – even though it’s stupid. I nodded back and closed the door beside me, sighing through my nose as Natasha started the engine.

“Hey, Nat?”

“Yes?” Natasha responded while looking at the road with her squinted eyes, probably seeing something afar that she didn’t like. I gulped, feeling anxiety building up my throat as I think of words to say before I let it out stupidly. It wasn’t like she was going to be upset about it, she’d understand. She knows what was going on with me, so I’m sure she’ll agree.

“Can I go to a party later? It’s for the new graduates.”

There was a long silence between us, and I could feel her hands gripping the steering wheel hard until her knuckles turned into this kind of white-ish color. She sighs, maybe for too long, and replied with a lower tone in her voice.

“I don’t know, Y/N.”

I raised my eyebrows and tried to interpret what she had said and was surprised by the tone of her voice, especially when her facial expression changed.

“Why not?”

She sighs again and gripped tighter on the wheel, saying: “There will be boys who can drug you–”

“You’re thinking of the worst-case scenario,” I responded, smiling nervously while I could feel both of my hands twitching from fear. Or is it? “I do need this, I need to be… out there. Do you understand what I’m trying to ask, Nat?”

She nods but doesn’t say anything. Was she upset that I even asked her that? There was another broad silence until I sighed painfully loud and murmured, “I won’t go–”

“No, you should.”

Before I could even respond, we were already back in the house and she turned off the engine and turned her head to the side, and looked at me. She bites down her lower lip and whispered, “Just stay safe, okay? Call me if you need a lift.”

When I got inside, I watched as Natasha dropped her jacket on the arm couch and made her way to the patio to light up another cigarette. I could see the way she blew the puff in the air, her head slightly tilted and lolled. I could feel her disappointment, especially in the way she talked to me. I didn’t understand though, because she was just a stepmother to me. Even though she deserves that validation, I still find her as my friend. I just don’t understand or comprehend why she reacted that way.

But oh well.

—

The party was a slob. Most of the people who were in the house weren’t even from our school, and it made Wanda laugh. We had friends from the back and decided to go there with the alcoholic drink that we bought. It’s funny because the house we were in was the richest house in the city. I was kind of surprised that they had no drink. Or, the alcohol itself was in the cupboards and wasn’t allowed to be touched.

I was glad that my anxiety didn’t kick in when I was hanging out with Peter and Wanda since I knew in such a crowded place I could get sick. My friend, Peter, as I mentioned – he used to have this infinite crush on me back in middle school. Though, as a lesbian, I always told him that we were just friends. He then understood that reference when we both got into freshman year.

“Here,” Wanda offered me a small red plastic cup that looked clear. I raised my eyebrows and felt a little sketched up. As my mother always says: Never take a drink from someone else. However, this is Wanda who we are talking about. I’m sure it’ll be fine.

“What’s in this?”

“Vodka,” she smiled – nodding at me to drink it up. “Come on, loosen up a bit. And we’ll dance, okay?”

Peter takes off his blue sweater and I could see his abs through his white shirt, which made me look away since I hate the thought of abs on men. Even Peter. Which made me realize how incredibly homosexual I am.

“I don’t like dancing.” I stated nonchalantly.

“Me neither but this is our last high school party,” she reasoned, pouting a little. “Come on Y/N, just drink it up.”

Bad decision. For the next few hours, I was extremely intoxicated that I was lying down on a hunk of concrete that was near the pool. I shut my eyes, trying to remember who I was just getting close with. She was tall and her hair was sort of braided – like Natasha’s – and couldn’t stop talking to me. I may have talked so much to her that I wasn’t being myself anymore. I lay there for a while, with my red cup in my hand. This went on for fifteen minutes until Wanda found me on the ground, letting out an exasperated gasp.

“Y/N! Jesus,” she brings me up with her arm clung around me, feeling like she was about to collapse me again. “We have to call Natasha, you had too much to drink.”

With the pacing of the time, I didn’t know I was sitting on the side of the road with Wanda when I saw Natasha coming outside of her car, with a slightly annoyed face. I wanted to whimper in fear but instead bowed my head down with shame, I felt incredibly stupid and irresponsible. I wasn’t a reckless child, but tonight I was. And even though it was fun, I felt awful about it – especially through the expressions that Natasha was giving.

“Thank you, Wanda,” she says, helping me up and bringing me into the backseat. I flopped my back against the car cushions and watched them as they had a small conversation. And after that, I may have fallen asleep – barely even remembered anything.

I walked to the living room and sat upright on the couch, sniffing while I watched Natasha slamming the drawers to pour herself a glass of wine on her glass. She drank it, looked at me back, and shook her head. I know she was disappointed, I shouldn’t have done that. How stupid was I?

“Did you know what happened?”

I shook my head, which I was being truthful about. I absolutely don’t know what happened, I was too drunk to know. So, I kept shaking my head until she clicked her tongue behind her teeth. She continued, “Y/N, you broke five glasses in that house. And, a boy was about to grope you.”

“I’m sorry, how did you know about that?” I asked, but I wasn’t being rude. I think. I don’t know what I was doing, but I wanted to know how she knew that part of the story. It wasn’t like I am traumatized by it, men are simply pigs that don’t understand boundaries – it was always religiously in my mind, so zero fucks was given when I knew that.

“Wanda told me.”

I sighed, leaning my head against the arm couch, and replied with a murmur, “I knew what I was doing. Natasha, you don’t have to be worried for me–”

“You don’t understand,” she responded, her tone getting hard with venom in it. I didn’t realize she was that angry at me, I almost felt embarrassed with my actions. “I care for you, Y/N. I know you’re going through a lot–”

“I’m sorry but I’ll have to disagree with that,” I stand up, wiping my eyes roughly on my index finger before I could take a step forward to Natasha who seemed a little taller than me. She was always taller, but this is new. I added, “I know you lost your wife. I do, but I lost my mother too. I respectfully think you understand how much pain I’m dragging along, I haven’t cried ever since my mom died. I know it’s weird and…”

“It’s not weird, Y/N,” Natasha, her voice becoming softer, which was more inviting. She leans against the wooden table until both of her hands are pressed against the wood – holding herself up. “I just don’t want you to be in danger. You’re a little girl, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

I raised my eyebrows when she called me a little girl, which I find cute – yet a little concerning. She has never called me that, not once. Or maybe, I was just very intoxicated that I don’t understand what she was telling me. So, I shrugged it off and went to the stairs, looking back at her and smiling lazily.

“Thank you for bringing me back home,” I said with a higher pitch in my voice – which was unusual. She smiled at me, wrapped her arms around her body, and licked in between her lips; it was dry.

“Of course.”

I gave her one last time and went up to my room, closing the door before I could feel my cheeks burning up a little. It was from the alcohol that I took, it was definitely that. I washed my face with cold water and decided to sleep naked tonight – since I was lazy enough to find clothes that were in my walk-in closet; my closet wasn’t even that big anyway. I was just being a baby.

I kept thinking about Natasha’s reaction when I couldn’t sleep. It kept replaying in my head, somehow that wasn’t a worry from a mother. It was something else that I couldn’t put into words with. I felt my skin prickling whenever her arms were wrapped around me, especially today. Something felt different, I know it.

I just don’t know how to explain or word it out.

taglist: @sayah13 @lizzieolsen89 @marvelwomen-simp @when-wolves-howl @cmfouatslota77 @riles-is-an-idiot @ygtft-chen @aru-son

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha angst #cwyd series #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow x you #dark!natasha #dark!natasha romanoff x reader

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pearl-blue-musings · 2 years

Note

Elle! Hello! I saw you have drabble requests open for a short bit and I was wondering if you could write a little something for Kuroo? Or Bokuto? Or maybe both of them together...idk. I don't really have a coherent thought or idea, but just thought I'd ask to see if you coukd do a small drabble. If not, that's alright!

Anyway...I hope you have a great weekend! 💙

HI MY DEAR!!!

I absolutely love their dynamic so of course I’ll write ya something!!

BoKuroo x reader

Contains spoilers from the newest Haikyuu chapter!!

It was hard keeping secrets from Bokuto.

The two of you oh so badly wanted to tell him Kuroo’s big plan and why he has been doing extra traveling since the Olympics ended. You did accompany him on one of his excursions but that was mostly to see the country that had stolen the heart of your favorite ball of sunshine. Of course the two of you mentioned having business there and promised Bo you would say hi to Hinata for him. And the way he pouted when he complained about missing his protege almost made you spill the beans.

Almost.

The day of convergence was getting closer and Kuroo was so so close to surprising not just his excitable boyfriend, but the rest of Japan by showing off the monster generation. After he saw the Olympics he was inspired and so were you. Every now and then when you would be on your laptop while Kuroo was away, Bokuto would come up to you being nosy as ever. “What are you working on? And why can’t I know about it?”

Every time you wanted to cave in and tell him the news but you knew you had to wait. Kuroo was going to attend a MSBY practice and announce the players and the plan there, just like he’s done with the others. But he wanted to save talking to MSBY last. He heard the whines of his lover missing playing with his other friends and thus the plan was truly put into action. The excitement on your hard working boyfriends face was everything you needed to see to know that he was doing what he loved and that made you love him, and Bo, even more.

A few days later saw you accompanying Bokuto to practice as you knew Kuroo would be there later. Bo was adorable with his “you never come to practice but I’m so happy you’re here!” He sloppily kisses your cheek before you find a space in the stands to watch and read a book. A couple hours later the coach calls them for a quick meeting. You quickly shut your laptop with glee and quietly move closer to hear the conversation. In comes your taller lover in a suit you’re sure you wanna rip off of him as he starts talking to the team. Owl like eyes widen to saucer size with a smile to match when Kuroo stops speaking. He jumps up and down with glee as he shakes and hugs Atsumu and Sakusa.

“Are you serious!? I can play with or against Hinata again?!? How’d you do that?? Never mind!! How soon is this happening? I’ve gotta tell Akaashi!”

The few men from MSBY who were chosen stay after and continue to speak with Kuroo. However, your eyes couldn’t stay away from Bo’s frame. You could tell he was trying his hardest to contain his excitement as he saw the design of the jerseys and how the teams were divided. You couldn’t wait to kiss him all over and as you turn to catch golden hues, you don’t miss how similar they are to yours. It was truly worth it to see this reaction from your lover.

When the meeting adjourns, Bokuto runs up to Kuroo and hugs him tightly with a spin and a nose kiss. “Is that why you were traveling? And why our baby owl was so secretive?” Kuroo nods and motions you toward them and enters the hug. Koutaro kisses your cheek again. “How could you keep this from me! You know I can keep secrets!”

The two of you pause and look at each other before responding at the same time:

“You told all of MSBY you made the Olympic team before I had set anything.”

“You told Kuroo I loved him before I could.”

Kou pouts and crosses his arms. “Those were one time!”

Tetsuro chuckles and wraps his arms around Bo’s waist. “It’s all good bro, that’s why we love you.”

He pecks his nose which earns him a slight grumble but the three of you laugh together in the middle of the court. Sure they were all a little crazy, but you preferred it this way. You and your volleyball loving dorks.

#monica ♒️#elle’s musical moots #bokuroo x reader #bokuroo #bokuto x reader x kuroo #bokuto x reader #kuroo x reader #my writing #i did the thing

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justauthoring · 3 years

Text

Precious To Us [2]

In other words, you’re Seijoh’s manager.

This chapter, Oikawa’s fangirls.

A/N: Here it is! The second part! I had one person request an idea (thanks @minigranger) and I definitely plan on writing it soon but I love the trope of manager vs. fangirls that I can’t help myself. As usual, please send in ideas :)

Listen, Oikawa’s fangirls are mean.

They just are.

It doesn’t really matter to them that you’re a first year, if they’re supposed to be your seniors, they would probably still be bitches even if you were their seniors and in second/third year.

They seem to think Oikawa’s theirs, even though, of course, he isn’t and if asked, he definitely would deny.

And they see you as a threat.

A big, big threat.

Who gets to see Oikawa everyday? You. Who gets to see him practice every day? You. Who gets a front row to seat to every one of his games? You. And who does he flirt with? You.

It doesn’t matter if you reciprocate the flirting or not -- which of course, you don’t -- they’re jealous and they blame it all on you.

Honestly, the first month of managing is fine.

Now that you know who Oikawa is and you’re around him more, you do notice the fangirls, but they don’t really bother you and you’re too focused trying to learn the ropes to really care about their constant presence.

You know you’ve heard some of the other members, namely the third years, complain about them.

About how annoying and distracting they were when it came to practice, or just the mere fact that Oikawa seemed to revel in the attention and love.

You’ve heard them, but you don’t really say anything otherwise because they’ve never done anything to you so you don’t really care either or.

Besides, even if you do think it’s tad bit pathetic, you can’t deny they’re devoted and you guess, in some ways... good for them?

But when you don’t stop being manager, and the rest of the team, namely Oikawa, don’t get sick of you like they all expect them to, and a month passes and you seem to just be thriving, getting a long with everyone, and finally getting the hang of everything?

That’s when they attack.

You’re already late.

And even if you know none of the boys or even the coaches will be upset with you, you do like to be punctual and you absolutely hate being late. So, you’re rushing, practically sprinting through the halls as you try to gather your bearings and organize everything you need to.

You’re already thinking of what drills Oikawa will have the team do, and what you can do to help. Maybe you could bring up some of the notes you’ve made? You’re not a hundred percent on the terms, but Iwaizumi has been helping you, and you’re sure you’ve picked up on a few of the techniques and things you think the boys could improve on.

You didn’t want them to think you’re imposing, but this was the job of the manager wasn’t it? They always reminded you you were more then just a water girl, and that they greatly appreciated anything advice you had for them from an outsider point of view, so maybe--

Landing with a loud thud, a groan leaves your lips as you feel your chin smack against the concrete floor beneath you. It takes you a second to gather your bearings, baffled at how you were suddenly on the ground, and trying to ignore the pain at having bitten your own tongue. But the second you hear laughter, you realized exactly what had happened and your head turns around to stare at the three girls stood above you in bafflement.

They’re laughing at you, quite loudly and obvious mocking you, but your eyes narrow in bafflement when you realize you’re positive you’ve seen them before. You just can’t place your thumb on it. They’re not in your class, one of them doesn’t even seem to be in your year, and you don’t think you’d remember some random face you’d passed in the hall, so--

That’s right. You’ve seen them hanging around Oikawa before, and the one older girl had even snuck into practice one day.

Slowly pushing yourself to your feet, you move to gather your stuff, only for it to be kicked out of your grasp.

“What the--!”

“Listen.”

You blink when the older one, clearly the leader or whatever, is suddenly directly before you, barely a breaths away, glaring down at you.

“You need to quit being manager for Oikawa-san’s volleyball team.”

And your eyes widen, baffled, lips parting as you shake your head; “I don’t--”

“I think you perfectly understand,” the girl behind her sneers, eyes cold.

“We don’t like how close you were with Oikawa-san.”

“And we’re sure Oikawa-san’s sick of seeing your ugly face every day.”

You’re stunned silent. Honestly, you’re not really sure what to say.

“We’ll give you till the end of the week,” the head girl smiles, but it’s a sickly sweet, filling you with dread. “Okay?”

She doesn’t wait for you to respond before her and the other two are walking off, clearly proud of themselves if they way they walk and hold themselves is anything to go by.

It’s takes you five minutes to gather yourself before you start making your way to the gym again for practice.

Part of you wants to just skip and go home but you know the boys would be concerned, more then they probably already are given how late you are, and really, it would just cause more issues in the end anyways.

Besides, you’re never one to skip anyways.

You don’t cry. You’re not really sure why because you definitely want to, but the tears never come and then you’re suddenly in the gym and everyone's rushing towards you in concern, questions leaving their lips rapidly as to why you were so late.

You brush them off, and it almost works, before Iwaizumi takes notice of the dried blood on the corner of your lip that you’d regrettably missed when cleaning yourself up earlier and the scrape underneath your chin.

“What happened to your chin, Y/N? You’re bleeding.”

He steps towards you, but you brush him off.

“I just tripped is all. Bit my tongue.”

You smile and hope it’s enough to convince them, but even if Iwaizumi looks like he wants to argue, Oikawa’s already pulling him back onto the court.

“You’re so clumsy, Y/N-chan! You really do need to be more careful!”

Some of the boys laugh and you do too, forcing yourself to pretend like everything’s fine even though you can physically feel yourself shaking.

But even as he’s being dragged away, Iwaizumi is still eyeing you and you don’t let him grow anymore suspicious then you can tell he is. You send him a soft smile, and then turn, making your way over to the coach to see where you can help for the day.

And it continues on like that for week.

By the next day, every seems to have forgotten you being late and only Makki makes a teasing comment about the cat themed bandaid on your chin to which you begrudgingly shove him away with a shrill “it’s the only ones we have!” and you seem more like yourself then you had the day before that by the second day, even Iwaizumi has relaxed.

By the end of the week, even he seems to have forgotten about it.

But you haven’t.

And it being the end of the week has you scared.

Kindaichi seems to notice your weird behaviour in class, especially now that the two of you tend to stick together now that you’re acquainted. But you brush him off every time he asks, saying you just felt ill.

He seems to believe it fine.

Luckily for you, nothing happens.

You’re on edge all day expecting something to happen, but nothing ever does.

Aiko, the third year and clear ring leader of that little group, never approaches you. In fact, you don’t see her once all day, which that in itself isn’t odd since you’re in different years, but you had expected to see her lackies -- either Makoto, a first year like you, or even Nami, a second year.

But you don’t.

By the final bell, you’re relieved.

It was just a mindless threat. It didn’t mean anything clearly, and they had just been poking fun, and honestly you were fine with that -- so long as you didn’t have to deal with them again.

You’d just have to be more wary of the fangirls. Maybe they weren’t as kind as you thought you were, and clearly they thought you posed some kind of threat (even though you definitely didn’t) so you’d just keep it in mind and--

“I’m pretty sure we told you by the end of the week.”

It’s a harsh thud, you don’t fall to the ground like you did last time, but you do thud against the lockers which dig painfully into your back. And regrettably you let a small cry in response, which pales in comparison to the cry of pain that leaves your lips when one of them grab a chunk of your hair and tug, hard.

Pushing at the hands that grab at you, you spin, not surprise to see the same three as before, sneering down at you.

Aiko spits down at you. “Clearly you didn’t listen.”

“I’m not gonna just quit,” you whisper, feigning the confidence to speak up for yourself. Your eyes narrow up at her, even though your heart is racing madly against you chest, and shake your head adamantly. “I love managing the volleyball team, and it’s not even because of Oikawa-senpai! I love being will all the boys, and I won’t let you--!”

“You really are just a slut.”

You’re stunned silent, lips left parted.

“Listen, I gave you a week, you didn’t listen.” Aiko scoffs, shaking her head as she brushes her hair back, glaring down at you. “I’ll show you what happens when I don’t get my way.”

She strikes you hard, across the cheek, and naively, you think that’s it. You can handle some punches and kicks, because you really don’t want to give up the one thing that’s made you happy for the first time in a long time. Even as the hits continue, and your body starts to ache, you think,

I can handle this.

But still, you end up skipping practice that day. You blame it on the fact the fact that you just didn’t want to have to explain why you looked so battered and messed up, knowing this time no amount of lying was going to get you out of this one. Because, really, it wouldn’t just be Iwaizumi suspicious this time -- all the boys will be, and then they’ll probably talk to the coach and...

and, it’s just to much a fuss for you. So, you skip, sending a text to Oikawa explaining that you weren’t feeling well and you’d be back Monday and to please apologize on the coaches behalf for you.

But you don’t go back the next day.

When you open your locker the next Monday, your homework that you’d finished during lunch to previous day to get a head start is ruined. Completely and wholeheartedly ruined.

And when you glance around, the first thing you see is Makoto from across the hallway, smirking at you.

But you don’t have any proof.

So, you suck back the tears that threaten to fall, and sulk to your first class where you know the teacher will be less then pleased.

And of course she isn’t, but she simply sighs and tells you that if you don’t have it in by tomorrow, she’ll have to give you a failing grade.

Embarrassed and upset, you walk to your seat, ignoring Kindaichi’s watchful gaze as you sink into your seat.

But it only gets worse from there.

The second class starts, a note is tossed onto your desk.

You eye, confused, glancing around for who threw it, only for everyone to be faced forward, before glancing briefly at Kindaichi’s whose watching your curiously.

Slowly, you open it.

Is it true you actually slept with all of the volleyball team?

Laughter echoes, but when you look up, there’s three girls staring at you, all mockingly.

Kindaichi leans forward, trying to grab the note but you pull it from his grasp, avoiding his gaze.

He cannot see that.

And when the class ends, you narrowly avoid Kindaichi who calls for you, rushing out of the class, only for someone to bump into you the second you make it out, shoving harshly into your shoulder.

“Slut.” The voice sneers.

Your lips part, and you glance up, feeling your vision blur, but when you glance around, you suddenly notice the looks everyone’s giving you, and the way they laugh and sneer at you.

But what really makes you break is when you turn, feeling like everyone’s against you, and find Kindaichi staring at you with parted lips, obviously confused, and you just can’t hold it back then, turning without another word, and running off.

The day continues like that, and after lunch, which you spent alone hidden in a bathroom stall, you see Iwaizumi and Oikawa ahead of you, smiling when they notice you.

They look as if they want to talk, but you know then you absolutely cannot like that happen, for multiple reasons, so you turn around quickly, running off in the opposite direction despite the way they call after you.

You don’t go back to practice like you said you would.

And neither do you Tuesday.

When Wednesday rolls around, and every laughs at you when you walk pass them in the halls, or sneers at you, or looks at you like you’re the most disgusting thing, you go to the office when you realize you can’t handle this any longer.

No matter how much you love being on the team and managing the boys.

Little do you know, in class, Kindaichi notices the odd coloured paper in your hands and curiously, maybe even worriedly (because there’s a sinking feeling in his gut) peers over your shoulder as subtle as he can, lips parting when he reads the header.

Permission to quite a club form.

“I think Y/N’s going to quite the team.”

It’s the first words he says when he enters the club room that day, and it makes everybody pause.

Silence echoes, and slowly, unsurely, Yahaba shakes his head; “what-what are you talking about, Kindaichi? I thought Y/N said she just wasn’t feeling well, which is why--”

“I saw the form this morning,” Kindaichi shakes his head, “I know what I read.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “Y/N would’ve talked to us first if something was upsetting her. She wouldn’t just--”

“Haven’t you guys heard the rumours going around?”

It’s Kunimi who speaks this time, his voice the similar drawl it always is, but if you look at him close enough, it’s easy to tell that he’s concerned. Upset even. And he looks disgusted as he speaks, eyeing Kindaichi first, almost knowingly, before turning to the other boys.

Iwaizumi’s brows furrow; “what are you talk--”

“I think someone’s been bullying her,” Kindaichi frowns. “It started at the beginning of the week. Y/N came in with her homework ruined, which I thought was weird, because she always is so careful with her work and makes sure it’s done early. And then someone tossed this note onto her desk but she wouldn’t let me read it, and she wouldn’t talk to me or even look at me all class. Then, when class was over, people were... well--”

“There’s a rumour going around that’s she’s slept with all of us.”

It’s Kunimi who finishes it, Kindaichi’s face beet red, which quite a few of the boys mimic seconds later when Kunimi finishes.

But Oikawa? Oikawa just looks pissed.

“What?”

Kindaichi blanches, looking absolutely terrified; “I thought you knew! I didn’t--”

Oikawa storms past him, Iwaizumi quick to follow, and then Mattsun and Makki are right behind them. The first and second years glance at each other, before slowly following them, and sure enough the third years are heading straight for the gym, to which none of them are surprised to find you there, a form in your shaky hands as you stare at Coach Mizoguchi.

You turn to them with wide eyes, clearly having hoped to finish before any of the boys started practice. But Mizoguchi looks relieved. “Thank God you boys are here,” he breathes, standing up to which you try to stop him, but he isn’t listening, “Y/N wants to quit, but I really think she should talk to you first,” he’s looking directly at Oikawa, “she won’t tell me why. And please Y/N,” he turns to you, “I think you should reconsider.”

“We’ll talk to her,” Oikawa cuts in, voice oddly low before you can say anything.

Mizoguchi smiles, nodding at you before making his way over the gym obviously in search of Irihata. Instantly the tension thickens when you’re left alone with all eyes directly and solely on you.

It takes a second to find the words. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to any of you about it, but I...” And your voice falters, even you can’t help the way your voice quivers. “I think it’s best if I just quit.”

“You’re not quitting.” It’s Iwaizumi who speaks this time, and his voice is so firm, so sure, even if you’re not sure how to argue against it.

“But I-I--”

“You don’t need to quite,” Oikawa shakes his head, stepping towards you and pulling the form from your grasp with ease. You watch with parted lips as he simply rips it right in front of you, tossing it aside without much care, before glancing back at the rest, namely the other third years, turning back to you. “Now, tell us, who told you you had to quit?”

And your eyes bulge. How did he--

“Kindaichi and Kunimi told us about everything,” Iwaizumi starts, moving towards you, as your eyes fall to the first years, watching the way they both, even Kunimi, stare after you in concern. “We know someone’s been bothering you, so, just tell us.”

“We’ll help you,” Watari adds with a smile, hesitantly speaking up.

And you pause, unsure. But then you stare at them all watching you carefully, and see how all of them care so much, more then you ever thought they did and you’re reminded of why you’d refused to quit in the first place. Reminded of how much you love managing the volleyball team and no matter how much you were scared and hurt, you didn’t want to lose it all.

Lose them.

“It’s... It’s a few, three actually, of Oikawa-senpai’s fangirls,” you mumble, voice low, head turned downwards. “They... They don’t like how much time I spend with him, so they... they told me to quit and when I refused, they...” You don’t need to finish.

There’s a pause, before a slap echoes.

“Somehow I knew this was your fault, Shittykawa.”

“Ow!” Oikawa cries, “Iwa-chan, it’s not like I...” But he seems to pause, lips parting as he glances down at you, his heart breaking slightly at the tears in your eyes.

Stepping forward, he pulls you into a hug, and you let him; “I’m sorry, Y/N-chan, I didn’t know they were hurting you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is,” Mattsun comments, stepping forward as he smiles down at you, ruffling your hair. “It’s easier to blame him anyways.”

“I agree,” Makki laughs.

And even you find yourself laughing lightly.

“Really, Y/N-chan? Even you too?”

“Sorry.”

Then, everyone turns serious; “I’ll talk to them,” Oikawa frowns. “What they did isn’t okay. I won’t let them get away with it. They’ll never bother you again, Y/N.”

And you’re surprised by how serious he is.

But things do get better.

Aiko never bothers you again, nor does any other one of Oikawa’s fangirls.

Oikawa even makes her apologize, and even you have to admit the absolute mortification on her face makes everything a lot better.

The boys try to stop the rumour, but it’s easier said then done, though, the fame of it all does dwindle and you’re not snided in the hallways so much anymore.

It’s kind of hard to when you usually have one of the third years walking you to and from class anyways.

Besides, they’re your friends, and even if everyone else hates you, they don’t.

And that’s all that matters to you.

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 2 years

Text

Chapter 12

Glass Shards

Warnings: Nightmares, some wound care, mostly fluff

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Over the next few days, the two settled into a routine. Merridy stayed in the room most of the time, talking to Damien or keeping herself busy with needlework: mending clothes or crocheting. She read some of her books, sharing them with Damien, who she assumed must be bored out of his mind, even if he never complained about it. Occasionally she would go out to get something to eat or explore the neighborhood, but she never stayed away for long.

In silent agreement, she brought Damien chamber pot and water bowl, she changed the bandage on his shoulder and wrist, and she checked to see how well his other wounds were closing. He took the pain numbing drops for a few more days, before he started to decline her offer. Most of his wounds were healing well, so she didn’t push him, even if she still saw a pained look on his face from time to time.

Every now and then, she helped him to stand up and take a few steps. When he was finally able to walk again without help and go to the outhouse by himself, they were both relieved. The first thing Damien did once he trusted his legs was to order a warm bath. She took his clothes and the bedding, taking her time with the laundry, to give him a chance to thoroughly scrub off whatever might still remain from his time in the dungeon.

As soon as his stomach had gotten used to proper food again, she started getting him something different to eat every day. She brought him stew from the kitchen, roasts from the tavern, pancakes from the market, fresh fruit and various baked goods. She didn’t get him only food, though; she found a wax tablet for him to practice writing on, small wooden puzzles for children to solve which were harder to use with one hand, and when she realized the books he took from her stash were mostly romantic fairytales, she got two more, hiding them beneath the existing ones.

As if he wanted to make up for his outburst on the first day, Damien was eager to train the motor skills of his left hand. Although the success was rather moderate, he tried so hard that in the end it was often Merridy who took whatever he was working with from his hand.

“Don’t overdo it,” she admonished him once more as she swiped a ball off the bedspread in front of him. “You need to practice, but you can’t force it.”

He sighed softly and his gaze drifted away, as it so often did when he was lost in thought. She reached behind her for the other balls she had put there and began to juggle with them. Like every time, she distracted Damien with it, but this time it didn’t last long and his gaze darkened again.

“No matter how much I practice, I’ll never be able to do something like this, for example,” he muttered resignedly.

A cheeky grin flitted across Merridy’s face at these words and she caught all five balls with one hand. “Come on, you just have to practice a lot,” she said in a teasing tone, which she was immediately sorry for.

She hoped Damien wouldn’t think she was making fun of him, but he just sighed and gave an unwilling huff. To prove it, she held her right hand behind her back and with her left threw first one, then the next, and then all the balls into the air. This time she juggled all five with only one hand. Unfortunately, she needed all her concentration to do it, so she couldn’t watch Damien’s facial expression when he noticed it. She wasn’t able to keep it up for long, and after half a minute the balls tumbled to the floor one after the other.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Damien’s words made her look up, a little out of breath as she flexed and shook out her fingers. “How do you manage to keep giving me hope?”

She shrugged sheepishly and hurried to collect the balls again. Fortunately, one had rolled under the bed so she could dive down in search of it as she answered him, “Maybe because I know how important hope is.”

As she stood back up with all the balls and went to the chests to put them away, she gave Damien a quick look. He hadn’t said anything back, and she was glad of that. She wasn’t ready to tell him about her past just yet.

They didn’t change, or even talk about the distribution of sleeping places. It didn't bother Merridy to sleep on the blankets, she wasn’t used to anything else. It wasn’t the comfort of her bed that kept her up at night, but the presence of another person in the room, and the noises that came with it. Most of the time, Damien just slept fitfully, but one night she was jolted out of her dreams by his soft groans.

“Damien?” she asked in a whisper, but there was no answer.

Sleepily, she fished for a candle, cursing softly when she didn’t manage to light it right away. Damien’s frantic breathing made her hands tremble, and when the flame finally jumped to the wick, his voice reached her ears.

“No… Don’t! No!”

A shiver ran down Merridy’s spine as she picked herself up and hurried to the bed. In the flickering light of the candle, she could see Damien’s distorted face and the drops of sweat shimmering on his forehead. Again he groaned, and she didn’t know if it was because of his dream or because he was tossing and turning restlessly, straining his injured shoulder.

“Damien? Can you hear me?”

He did not respond. Carefully, Merridy placed the candle on the table, making sure it was well out of Damien’s reach. When she turned back to him, he reared straight up in bed, but then slumped down again, making a desperate, tormented sound.

“I… I can’t. Please. Please don’t make me.” His voice sounded so terribly terrified and a sob followed his words, so full of anguish that Merridy’s breath caught.

“Damien, wake up. Wake up!” She propped herself up on the mattress with one knee and grabbed his unharmed shoulder to shake him. Now she didn’t care if it hurt him. Whatever he was dreaming about, reality with its pain could hardly be more cruel. “Wake up!”

At last he tore his eyes open, accompanied by a final, hoarse cry. He blinked, breathing heavily, his gaze darting around until it finally fell on Merridy.

“Merry?”

She nodded and swallowed against the lump in her throat. Damien reached for her hand, still resting against his shoulder, and clung to it. His fingers dug into her skin, eliciting a soft, pained yelp. Immediately, he let go of her as if he had been burned.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me. I’m so sorry.” Again and again he stammered the same words. Tears made their way down his cheeks and he was shaking so much, Merridy could feel it through the mattress.

“It’s all right. It was just a dream. You’re safe.” She was aware that her own voice was shaking as well, but she still tried to sound calm. “We’re in Dragon’s Reach. You’re safe here.”

It didn’t seem to help. She felt as if her words were not getting through to Damien at all.

“I’m… sorry,” he repeated over and over, even as he was shaken by sobs and had to struggle for breath between words.

Merridy was at a loss. Although she had noticed that Damien was wary about too much closeness, she didn’t know how else to help. She settled down next to him on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. At first he flinched and froze under her touch. To her surprise, however, he then relaxed a little, and finally even nestled his head against her shoulder. Though he fell silent, she could feel his tears soaking the fabric of her shirt. Mumbling meaningless, soothing words she stroked his hair and slowly he seemed to calm down again.

Merridy waited until he had fallen asleep before she let go of him and went back to her own bed. She left the candle on the table. It would burn for a while longer, painting flickering patterns on the walls and ceiling of the room. Laying down on her blankets, eyes wide open, she watched the dancing shadows cast by a variety of objects. Again and again her thoughts circled around Damien’s words. They just didn’t make any sense. It didn’t surprise her that he was plagued by nightmares; it would have surprised her more if that hadn’t been the case. But what could he have been dreaming of to be shaken like that, to keep apologizing to her?

Tensely, she listened into the silence for any sign that Damien was dreaming again, but all remained quiet. Still, she just couldn’t find any sleep, finding herself too warm when she was wrapped in her blanket, and too cold when she wasn’t. Every noise, no matter how quiet, kept her wide awake, and when the candle eventually burned down, she had to resist the urge to light a second one.

When the first rays of light fell through the window, Merridy gave up trying to sleep and got up. She used the early morning hour to wash herself and then, when she had put on fresh clothes, to do her and Damien’s laundry. There was a clothesline stretched from the window of the inn to the window of the house across the street. Just as she was pulling the last pair of pants across the street, Damien woke up. She could see his movement in the corner of her eye and turned to face him.

“Good morning,” she greeted him, eyeing him furtively. Deep circles lay under his eyes, and his skin, which had slowly regained some color over the past few days, was unnaturally pale.

“Good morning.” Damien’s voice was noticeably rougher than the day before and he swallowed a few times. “You’re up early.”

Merridy put the last shirt over the clothesline, pinning it in place with two clothespins. Then she pulled the top rope until the clothes dangled in the air a short distance from the house, before closing the window.

“I couldn’t sleep very well,” she said, watching Damien. Was she imagining it, or had he looked guilty for a moment? But he only gave a low growl that could mean anything and didn’t elaborate. Merridy didn’t believe he didn’t remember. She assumed that he didn’t want to talk about what he had dreamed about. And if she was honest — she didn’t dare to ask.

“I’ll go get breakfast,” she muttered and disappeared from the room, determined to gather herself a bit on the way to the kitchen and then let the day pass like any other.

Twenty days after their arrival in Dragon's Reach, Merridy dared for the first time to apply firmer pressure while changing the bandage. Damien grimaced, but when she inquired whether she was hurting him, he shook his head.

“It feels strange. All wrong. And it hurts a little bit, but it’s not very bad.”

Merridy nodded and examined the edges of the wound more closely. They had fused into a thick scar that would probably stay that way. The majority of his other wounds had healed as well, leaving fresh, pinkish skin behind.

“It’s been three weeks now. I don’t think it will get infected again. The wound is closed and I would like to remove the stitches.”

Like ugly beetle legs, the black thread ends still protruded from the seam. At Damien’s nod, Merridy took a small pair of scissors and began to cut them open one by one, before carefully pulling them out. Damien winced a time or two, but made no sound. When she was done, she examined the tiny holes that remained. Only two of them showed a trace of blood, but she still applied a generous layer of salve. She also wrapped the bandage around his shoulder once more, even if now it was more to avoid soiling Damien’s clothes and the bed.

When she was done, she reached out as if to grab his hand, but then faltered when she noticed his gaze. He looked strangely lost at that moment.

“Now you really are saved,” she whispered.

He just nodded silently and she had to swallow before she managed to continue speaking.

“I told you, didn’t I?”

Damien still sat frozen on the bed and finally she overcame the distance between them and put her arms around him. But he did not react to this either, but continued to sit stock-still. At least he now found his voice again.

“Yes, you did. You did.”

Merridy heard his voice tremble and gave him another gentle squeeze, then straightened up.

“Let’s celebrate. I’ll get us dinner,” she suggested and headed for the door. Maybe he just needed a moment to himself.

With the door half open, she turned back to look at him. Damien had his hand raised, carefully touching his right shoulder. Involuntarily, she wondered how much fear of a relapse he must still have had, and whether it had finally faded away. Merridy herself had made every effort to suppress it, but every time she had changed the bandage, she had prepared herself for the worst. The idea of losing him after all had deprived her of sleep more than once.

Whatever worries about his past or his character she might have had, they had faded quickly. By now, she was sure that he wasn’t a bad person, and would be no threat to Cedric’s secrets. That meant that she no longer had to stay, but it didn’t mean that she had to leave, either. Perhaps now there would be an opportunity to get to know the man behind those sad dark eyes.

She stayed away a little longer than usual, and when she returned she carried an apple pie and a pitcher of red grape juice on her tray. Damien faced her, a small smile on his lips. He seemed to have regained his composure a little. Then his gaze lingered on the pitcher and he drew his eyebrows together.

“It’s just grape juice,” Merridy said, her tone apologetic. “I thought about getting wine, but I don’t like to drink it. I can get you some, if you’d like.”

He shook his head hurriedly. “Please don’t. I don’t drink alcohol. Juice is perfect.”

With a relieved smile, Merridy balanced the tray to the bed and sat down across from Damien. She cut a piece of the pie and slid it toward him on a plate.

“Here. If you like it, there’s a merchant on the other side of town who makes the best apple pies. And applesauce. And fried apples. When you’re a bit stronger, we can go there,” she offered.

Damien had reached for the plate, but now froze at her words. Looking intently at her, he seemed to be searching for something in her expression, but whether he found it, she couldn’t tell.

“I… like apples,” he eventually said, so carefully, as if he feared he was saying something wrong.

Merridy laughed. “Apples it is, then. Oh, and here…”

She poured the juice into two cups, then filled her own plate and reached for a fork. The cake was still a little warm in the middle and tasted wonderful. The juice was just tart enough to provide a pleasant contrast. They ate every last crumb of the cake and spent the rest of the evening telling each other little innocuous anecdotes about their lives in Caldeia.

Yeah well, speed picked up a bit, didn’t it. I have one story with a endlessly long recovery, I didn’t want another. I can always return and pester the two of them with some little bonus pieces >:) As I have already started.

Tagging: @teamwhump @villainsvictim @dont-touch-my-soup @whump-in-the-moonlight

#Glass Shards #whump #fantasy whump #my writing

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