#this is the stupidest summary i could give this chapter but to be honest i couldn't think of anything better so here have this lmao

[magicalgirlartist]

Out of town tomorrow so updating the teacher!AU a day early this week!

Summary: Kopaka gets hunted for sport.

[bvbygrl-writes]

Summer Lovin': Chapter 1

Pairing: Dilf!Draco Malfoy x Blaise's Daughter!Reader

Series Summary: After years of being unhappy and doing what everyone else thinks is best, Draco decides to finally learn what he wants in life. Little did he know what he wants would walk in wearing a cute little dress.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Age gap (Draco is in his 30s reader is 18), unhappy marriage, reader is black, a bit of drinking

A/N: I haven't written a series in a while so brace yourself. If this chapter does well then I'll continue with it but if not I'll probably just drop this in the vault.

THIS FIC WILL BE 18+!!! MINORS / ACCOUNTS WITHOUT AGE DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED WITH NO WARNING BUT THIS ONE.

Draco could say with certainty that his marriage with Astoria was loveless from the beginning. From the outside, it looked like the perfect marriage, the perfect life. He was wealthy, his wife was beautiful, and they had a son who had grown into a lovely young man. But, if he had a choice in the way his life had gone, it wouldn’t have been like that. From the time he was a young boy till the time he was an adult, he had practically every decision made for him. He had hoped after Hogwarts, after he distanced himself from his father a bit more, he would have the rest of his life to figure out what he wanted to do. His likes, his passions, his interest for something outside of pureblood society or whatever agenda his father had pushed on him.

But over time, he had grown a distaste for the way his life was. While Scorpius was still growing up, he and Astoria had a common goal and interest: making sure their son grew up to be a well rounded individual. While their marriage and practically their whole lives were orchestrated, they made sure to give their son something they never had, his own choices and options. However, as he got older and started to attend Hogwarts, their attention had to be focused on one another and what they came to find out is that they couldn’t be any more different.

Constant fights, arguments about little petty things were the only things they could throw at each other (besides the dishware). If it wasn’t one thing, it was another and if Draco was honest, he couldn’t stand Astoria. Her laugh, the rude way she’d speak to the house staff, and constantly bringing up the stupidest of things that happened when they were still in school however many years ago. It was though she was still a rotten and nasty little girl instead of being in her mid 30s as they were. He found himself drinking quite a bit just to tune out the sound of her droning on and on about something he couldn’t give a singular fuck about.

“Did you hear me, Dray? This is important! The elves didn’t add enough salt into the soup so-”

“Add your own fucking salt then, Astoria! Are you so incompetent that you can’t even add your own salt into the meal? The soup tasted bloody fine to me.” he groaned, standing from the table. It was a long, dark oak table that seemed to go on for eternity. They both sat on separate ends and even then, it still didn’t feel like he was far enough. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he began to pace back and forth, sighing as he tried to calm down. A deafening silence fell over the room. He kept praying to a force that something, anything would end this moment.

And like clock work, in came his owl with the daily post. He stroked under its chin affectionately before grabbing the mail. With most of them, he read who the sender was and just tossed it onto the table. But one caught his eye. It was sealed with a dark blue wax with the initials B.Z pressed into it. A barely noticeable smile made its way into his face as he walked a few feet away from the table, ripping open the letter. The smile grew more and more as he read the contents.

Dear Draco,

How’ve you been, mate? I’ve been quite busy and I apologize for me and my small family for not being able to attend your residence during the Christmas season like you requested. However, my wife will be out for the summer visiting her family so I thought it’d be nice if you came to visit the manor and we can catch up like old times. Plus, from the sounds of it in your last letter, you’re very much overdue for a vacation of your own. 

Your friend, Blaise Zabini

“Rue!” Draco called out. The elf in questioning came scurrying around the corner, bowing before the man. “I’ll need you to pack up a few suitcases, I need about 3 months worth of clothing. Please and thank you.” the elf nodded, running off quickly with a few ‘right away sir’s and ‘a pleasure sir’s as he disappeared up the stairs.

“Three months?! Where do you think you’re going?” Astoria shrilled, standing up to cling to his arm. She had an overly dramatic pout on her face, lips quivering as fake tears appeared in the corner of her eyes.

“Away from you!” he yelled before sighing. None of this was her fault. She was forced into this connection as much as he was. He gently removed her hands from his body before turning to face her. “Astoria, let’s be honest with ourselves….neither of us are happy. We’ve been at each other's throats for years and if it wasn’t for Scorpius, the two of us would have separated years ago. I’m going away for the summer to spend some time with Blaise to have fun for once and I hope in this time you have some fun too.” his voice was full of sincerity and deep down, she knew he was right. So without another word she offered him a tight lip but understanding smile, walking off towards one of the many living rooms in the house.

“Your bags are packed, Master Malfoy.”

Draco sighed in relief as he stood on the porch of his dear friend’s manor. It was made of light stone and marble, a nice change from the darker style of his own home. He reached forward to use the door knocker but was shocked as the door popped open revealing a familiar face.

“Malfoy. I wasn’t sure if you were going to come or not but I had a room prepared for you anyways. Lyra, fetch a bottle of the good scotch, will you?” he yelled, turning around and beginning to walk further into the house. Draco followed behind him, admiring the carvings on the border of the ceiling. After a few minutes of walking, they reached a living room. It had many windows causing the room to be well lit with natural lighting. But what caught his eye was the set of double doors. Outside appeared to be a garden with lots of greenery and an outdoor dining area.

“I’m impressed, Zabini. I didn’t know you had taste at all.” he chuckled, sitting down on the soft white couch. Blaise scoffed at his words, chuckling as he poured their scotch into two crystal glasses.

“As much as I’d love to take credit for this, a lot of this was the doings of Pansy and (Y/n). She was just starting Hogwarts when we moved here and we wanted her to feel at peace when she was away from the stress of school. It’s crazy to think she’s all done with it now.” Draco hummed at his words, sipping on the scotch. It was nice and smooth. He made a note to ask him about it at a later time. “Oh! Speaking of (Y/n), it seems her summer plans fell through and she’ll be here for the next few months. I hope that’s alright. Although, with the size of the house I doubt we’ll see her much but for meals.”

“That’s quite alright. I haven’t seen my ‘niece’ in quite some time. I believe she was six or so, still asking for us to check for the monsters under her bed." They both laughed at that. (Y/n) was a sweet and bright young girl. When the two families lived closer together, Scorpius and her would often have playdates together. (Y/n) would always call him Uncle Dray, begging to spend the night just so she could spend a bit longer with her favorite ‘uncle’.

“I’ll call her down so we can all catch up. (Y/n), princess, we have a guest!” Blaise called, his voice echoing off the walls. The room went silent for a bit before a faint ‘Coming, Dad!’ could be heard along with a set of footsteps clambering above them. The sound trailed from one end of the ceiling to the other before bouncing steps could be heard from the stairs.

Draco chuckled, sipping on his scotch which he soon began to regret as he choked on it a bit. His gray eyes practically bulged from his head at the girl, no, woman who was standing before them. Was this really the same girl, his little (Y/n/n)? This couldn’t be the same little girl he helped raise, the same one who always needed a flashlight in order to sleep, the one that’d fall asleep in his lap when he was finished braiding her curly hair. His eyes raked over her appearance. She took after her father in terms of complexion, rich brown skin but he had no idea who she had gotten that body from. It most certainly wasn’t Pansy’s. And her eyes? They were the most lovely shade of (e/c) he had ever seen. She had a set of fresh braids that complimented her face well and along with the bright yellow dress she was wearing…she looked nothing short of a doll. He felt his chest grow tight and his nose burned from the alcohol that had managed to make its way back up a bit. The summer had barely begun but he knew it was going to be the best one he’d had in a while.

[violet-knox]

Whatever It Takes

Year 7 - Chapter 77

Summary: A month after the funeral, you and Severus visit his mother's grave. Severus shares with you how he's been feeling and swears to do whatever it takes to make things up to you.

Word count: 2951

A/N: Okay, I'll be honest, I dossed off when proof reading this chapter haha. Sorry for any typos, grammar mistakes or just random words that don't make sense.

Also, posting may slow down or halt over the next little while I'm enjoying my time off. Unfortunately, we've also returned to office and I have a lot on my plate after the holidays so I'm not sure how much writing I'll be able to do.

Happy holidays everyone!

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

~

He wasn’t even sure why he’d brought it, but he’d been looking at it, his fingers tracing every bit of it since the day he found out his mother had passed. This ring was all he had left of her and her side of the family now. The only thing he had left to connect himself to a Wizarding family, to the world he’d longed to be a part of for as long as he could remember. He kept it in his pocket during the entire funeral service, one hand in yours, the other holding the ring tightly, keeping it out of your sight. He couldn’t think about giving it to you anymore, he didn’t look forward to your reaction when he asked you to be his forever, all the happiness he’d felt before everything began going downhill was completely gone.

Everything had been so hard lately. It was hard to wake up in the morning, to look at you, to talk to anyone. The pain he’d gone through to make arrangements for his mother’s body, transporting it from France, paying for her funeral, her tombstone, her casket. She hadn’t left a single penny for him to help or expressed her wishes. He had to deal with it all alone, just as he did growing up. He knew you were trying to help, he knew you were there to support him, but you could never understand how he felt, why it had to be him to lay his mother to rest despite her negligence. He had to prove he was better than her, that he wouldn’t do to her what she’d done to him.

This was all he had now that his Mastery was over and the entire Potions community was told by that sorry excuse of a Potions Master not to hire him. The youngest Potions Master the Wizarding World had come to know and he couldn’t find a single person with the brains to give him a chance. They were all fools for taking the word of that toad over him. He’d sent out samples of his work, offering to make the potion in front of them and still no one would even give him the courtesy of an interview. Everywhere he turned he was faced with roadblocks, frustrated at his life. How could he think about proposing to you when he wasn’t worthy of it? He couldn’t find a job, couldn’t afford a proper resting place for his departed mother. He was worthless and the world agreed.

He wondered sometimes if you wish you’d never come home. If you should have broken up with him after you’d left for your first tournament. You didn’t deserve to have all this around you. You didn’t deserve him snapping at you for the stupidest thing. But you put up with him anyways, Merlin knows why. You were his only anchor keeping him afloat this past month, the only good thing in his life and of course, feeling as miserable as he was, he had to resume his mission of pushing away any good thing left around him. He couldn’t believe he’d let his misfortunes come between you, he’d let them take hold of him, control him. He’d shouted at you for trying to help him and broke down crying when he realised what he’d done. You comforted him despite the awful words he said, no amount of apologies able to take back the guilt of how he’d treated you in those few seconds.

“Severus?” You spoke softly, taking a step towards him. It broke your heart seeing him so distraught, so miserable visiting his mothers grave for the first time since the funeral. You wanted to hold his hand, to comfort him, but he always kept his hands in his pocket, his arms tightly shut against his body. He’d been like that ever since the tears had stopped. He cried for three days straight, his eyes so red and puffy, you worried he’d go blind. Then one day, his tears dried and he shut you out, refusing to touch you, barely speaking to you and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to take it. “Are you ready to go?”

Severus looked down from the tombstone onto the month-old grave, the outline of where she was buried still visible. He couldn’t believe she was down there, he couldn’t believe she was gone just when he felt like she was beginning to act like a real mother. They barely spoke since he’d graduated, but they’d exchanged a few letters every few months and perhaps it was foolish of him to dream, but he hoped one day she’d repent for what she’d done and they’d have a proper relationship. A fool's dream apparently and now he’d never know if she could have grown into that person he wished for though he supposed she was the only one to blame. She had a chance to be a mother and she rejected it, rejected him.

Gripping the ring tightly and burying both his hands deep in his pockets, he nodded his head and began to walk home, his eyes staring at the ground as you walked together in the dead silence of the evening. He frowned at how distant he was letting himself become, how broken your relationship was becoming all because he didn’t know how to mourn the woman who failed to be his mother. He didn’t care about her as much as he did you. He loved you so much, he couldn’t put it into words, yet he still let himself do this to you both, tearing you apart like cotton candy. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair to you. It wasn’t your fault that his mother had died, it wasn’t your fault he couldn’t find a job, so why must you suffer in this way?

“I’m so sorry (Y/N),” he whispered, his hair shielding the shame he wore on his face from you as he kept his gaze to the pavement. His frown grew, the disappointment he felt in himself flourishing to the surface. He’d reacted so poorly this past month, and you were the outlet for his rage, his own failure. “You don’t deserve this?”

“Sev, what are you talking about?” You were surprised to hear him speak, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. His words weighed heavily on you as you tried to see just how much damage he was trying to hide from you. You knew he was suffering more than he led on, the red in his eyes unexplainable by just the few hours of crying he’d done in front of you each day. You just wished he’d let you back in, hoped that the words he spoke now was the doorway into his heart he was opening for you.

“The way I’ve been treating you, the horrible things I said-”

“Stop.” You knew exactly where this was going and as much as you agreed the few words he’d spoken to you since his mother passed hadn’t been the kindest, it was something you knew you’d have to handle when you decided to be with him. He was grieving, letting the worst of himself take over and just as you’d worried, the actions he took during his studies had crippled the career he didn’t even get to start. You knew none of that should have been an excuse, but you couldn’t understand how he felt, no one could and in that sense, he was completely alone. There was nothing you could do to fix how he grieved or how he felt, you only hoped your patience would hold out long enough to help him rebuild himself when he was ready. “Severus, you have every reason in the world to be mad or frustrated. You lost your mother and you didn’t get to say goodbye. Anyone in your situation would react as you have, worse even. You have nothing to apologise for because I’ve already forgiven you.”

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, knowing you would respond with nothing but support for him, that you wouldn’t directly agree with him, but he was still saddened by your words. He couldn’t understand it, he knew you loved him but he couldn’t see why anymore. He had nothing to offer you but depression and sadness. Why would you, why would anyone want to be around someone like him? He couldn’t even begin to think about how he would try to make everything up to you, wondering how he could have ever thought he deserved to propose to you. He wasn’t worthy enough to even ask for your hand and this was just another failure he’d caused.

“You shouldn’t. I don’t deserve forgiveness.” His voice trembled as he spoke, his fingernails digging into his palms, hidden in his pockets. He was so angry at himself, angry at you for not being angry at him. He didn’t think he could be a worse partner, he didn’t think he would break his promise to himself, become so undeserving of you that he’d feel like this. “You’ve been nothing but supportive towards me and I showed my appreciation for you by yelling. There’s no excuse for that.”

“So what would you rather I do if not forgive you?” You tried to reason with him, to be realistic. You knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, he hadn’t been thinking clearly this past month, but you couldn’t understand how exactly he expected you to react, what more could you do when he’d shut you out like this.

“I don’t know, yell at me, tell me off. Leave me,” Severus’ heart had never beaten so fast, he never intended to be so blunt, to give you such an escape, like those two words were the one thing keeping you with him. He was afraid that if he’d said them aloud, that you’d follow his advice and do just that, but it was selfish of him to think you should do anything that wasn’t in your best interest, he just wasn’t sure what that was.

You understood now why he’d closed himself off after spending a few days grieving over his mother. He was ashamed of himself, of how he’d been acting. He held himself at too high a standard, feeling as though his grief was a moment of weakness he let take over. He fell into a toxic spiral of emotions and he didn’t know how to deal with it other than blame himself. You pushed on his arm and stopped him from walking, stepping in front of him and hoped he would hear your words and look at you.

“I would never do that to you, especially when you need me most. Do all those years together mean nothing to you? Does the life we’ve built together not tell you anything about our relationship?” You pleaded with him. Pleaded for him to see things in your perspective, to be rational during such an irrational time in his life. You forgave him for it all, for how he acted, the words he spoke, everything. You knew the drastic negative changes in his life were impacting him and you couldn’t blame him, you just needed him to know that he didn’t have to go through it alone, that you would always be there for him no matter what.

Severus kept his head hung low, but to your surprise, his shoulders began to shake, tears streaming down his face as he burst into tears. This was nothing like the tears he’d shed the past month. It was like he’d suddenly become flooded with emotion, everything hitting him all at once, the weight of his mother’s death, all those rejections, his failure to be a good boyfriend, to be someone you would want to marry crushing him into the ground and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I-I don’t know how much longer I can continue like this. A failed son, a failed Potions Master, a failed boyfriend.” Severus couldn’t control his tears. He broke down in the middle of the street in front of you and he couldn’t stop it.

“You are not a failure, Severus. You’ve had so much thrown your way, you’ve been through so much more than anyone else and you deserve time to heal.” You took him in your arms, one hand on his back, the other in his hair as you let his chin fall over your shoulder. He leaned into you, crying into your jacket, his fists finally loosening, the ring falling into his pocket as he wrapped his arms around you, gripping you instead.

“You’re the only good thing left in my life (Y/N),” he whispered into your shoulder, his eyes closed shut, your scent, your touch filling him with enough comfort he finally felt like he could find a grip. You continued to be his anchor, the only thing keeping him afloat in life and he had to do right by you. He had to do better than he was doing this past month. The lift he’d dreamed for was still reachable, he just needed to work for it. He’d find a job for you, no matter what, he’d better the house for you, he’d take you out like you deserved, support you like you did him. He was going to do better now that he’d found the strength and incentive he needed to finally let go.

“And you will always and forever be the best thing in mine Severus,” you whispered back to him, massaging his scalp as you held him tightly. You felt his grip on you tighten as his body stopped shaking, the river of tears streaming down his face slowing down. You stayed like that for as long as he needed, glad he finally let it all out. You hoped this was a sign that he could begin healing and could start moving past the negativity from the past month and honour his mother’s memory instead of pondering over what could have been.

When Severus felt he had regained control of himself again, he loosened his grip on you, ending your hug. He hung his head low as he sniffed away the last of his emotions. You immediately reached up to swipe away the reminisce of tears left on his cheek, Severus finally smiling at the warmth of your hands against his icy cold cheeks and tired eyes. He opened his eyes as you dropped your hands and looked at you for the first time in a while. He stared into your eyes, thanking you for enduring him this past month, his hand reaching for yours as you resumed your walk back home.

You were truly the kindest and most caring person he’d ever met. You motivated him to do better, to be better and that’s exactly what he was going to do, no matter what it took. He needed to make up for everything he’d done, for the support you gave the last two years. The life he dreamed of was still possible, he could still make it happen and one day, he’ll look up at you and feel content enough to take out that ring in his pocket and give it to you. Until then, he would do everything he could, work as hard as he could to become that person, to build that life he wanted so badly.

He promised you things would be better and you responded with nothing but words of encouragement and support. You told him you’d be there every step of the way, helping him build the life you both wanted, the life you would both share for the rest of your lives. You spoke of the future not as though it was a dream, but your destiny. You were so sure everything would turn out as you both hoped and it only encouraged him further. The moment he got home, he walked over to his room as you began preparations for dinner and rummaged through his belongings. He found the letter he swore he would never touch again, the letter he’d received two years ago along with a humble threat against your lives and unfold it.

He’d sworn he’d never head down that road after working so hard to escape this dark path he’d found himself on. All those threats, all the promises and exchanges he’d made to regain ownership of his soul and here he was about to toss it all away. But what choice did he have? He wasn’t going to find a half decent job in the Potion’s community any time soon and he needed to make changes in his life before he found himself following in the footsteps of his father.

He closed the door of his room and locked it before taking out a quill and parchment, writing a letter to one of his old ‘friends’ about possible opportunities to sell his own personal stock of potions. He could work out of his own house, start a business of his own and sell his potions just as he did during his school years. He knew he couldn’t do this forever, and he’d have to be cautious about what he brewed, who he spoke with and who would know his name. But this was the only opportunity he had, the only way to make things right, to start the life he so desperately wanted. A part of him screamed at him not to send this letter, to find another way, but he knew there was no other way. This was it, his last resort and he worried that if he passed this up too, his dream would be lost forever.

~

Next Chapter

~

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 3- The Ends Beginning

Summary: You and Geralt travel to Blaviken in search of more coin, though you’re wary of getting into trouble. Unsurprisingly you do in fact, get into trouble.

Warnings: long chapter, ya know gore and such, Geralt just being a babe and reader dealing with the shit she gets into for this man

Masterlist

You looked up to the dreary sunless sky, not a single speck of blue to give you a hopeful sign that the world is not as unhappy as the swamp you're currently standing in. Your surroundings disgustingly emit the gnarly stench of shit and death, seeping into your nostrils against your will as you stand idly by the waters grimy edge with your silver weapon unsheathed in your right hand.

Roach patiently keeps her distance by the leafless trees as she waits for her master who's currently under the water fighting a very pissed off kikimora. Geralt insisted that he would be the one to get into harms way and lure the ugly fucker out from it's hiding place. You, not wanting to get your clothes wet, agreed to his proclamation.

Although right now, with no visible signs of life from beneath the murky waters, you're wondering if letting him handle it all alone was the best course of action. Soon your worrisome thoughts evade you once Geralt and the screaming kikimora burst forth from the inky pond. He's lifted out of the air with a grunt as the beast plunges him back down into the depths. You shake your head and turn to Roach who takes a single step back.

Rolling your eyes you let out a sigh, "Fine. I'll help him." You exclaim to the mare with a wave of your large dagger, she simple snorts in reply.

As you approach the water you can hear the guttural muffled sounds from the battle beneath the surface. You had not anticipated on getting soaked today and you're not about to now. With a swift jump you launch yourself over the submerged kikimora and with the power only gifted by your vampirian mother, you float above the beast.

Begrudgingly you reach your hand down into a couple inches of murky water, grasping the creature by its slimy neck, once your fingers have clawed into its flesh do you then pull up. The bastard screeching in pain as it breaks the surface, greeted by a quick slice to one of its protruding arms that hastily reaches for your body. You let go and glide back over to the bank as Geralt emerges from the water to curtly stab the monster through its mouth, the beast instantly going limp.

He turns a pale face to you, his eyes an obsidian shade of pure shining black as he breaths heavily from the messy battle fought only moments ago. Sloshing through the swamp water, he makes his way onto the shore to stand next to your smirking face.

"Yeah you really had that under control, I could tell from the way you were slowly getting turned into a drowner." You can't see it but you can practically feel his eye roll.

"And you didn't want to get a little wet." He mutters between heavy breaths while you flick water off of your hand.

You smile, sticking your dagger back into its leather sheath, "The only way I'm getting a little wet is by watching you stand naked in front of me as you sensually clean your sword." He laughs at your sarcastic remark, an odd but pleasant contrast to the dull bubbling of the swamp.

He then walks back into the water to cut a large piece off of the dead kikimora, hopefully it's enough to pay for some new clothes for your smelly Witcher. Once the beast is set and tied do you wait for him to mount Roach before he lets a hand out for you to take. Pulling you up into his lap, he slings his arms around your sides to better hold onto the leather reigns.

The ride to the gloomy village of Blaviken is a short one, but nonetheless enjoyable as you lean yourself into his warm body. Finally do you reach the wooden gates where Roach continues her trek into the town. As Geralt does, you keep your hood up, doing your best to hide behind your disheveled hair. No one bothers to look at you and Geralt when Roach comes to a stop, the two of you getting down, Geralt tying her up before you both head into the closest tavern for something to drink on this dreary morning.

As expected, you can feel the distrustful gazes from the tavern goers as they watch you and Geralt walk up to the bar. Ignoring their wary eyes, you take a seat as the lady bartender asks what you'd like to drink, seemingly uncaring or oblivious to the strangeness of you two. Geralt sets some coin onto the table getting straight down to business, as per usual.

"Point us to the alderman's house." He abruptly asks, she kindly answers him while pointing in the direction of the desired residence before she's cut off by a greasy slightly heavy looking man who shoos her away. He quickly steps behind the bar, glancing warily between the two of you.

"We don't want your kind here, Witcher." He states, only the tiniest bit of fear flashing through his grey eyes, but that's gone quickly as he glares over at you, "Or yours, daughter of demons." Spits the bearded man at you this time. Apparently your kinds reputation precedes you still, no matter, he is of little concern at the moment.

"The alderman, tell me where he is and we'll be on our way." Asks Geralt once again, nothing sinister lacing his words, although you're becoming irritated knowing that a group is forming behind you. And right on cue does a smiling bulldog of a man appear before you, snapping at Geralt about how he doesn't give the orders around here, adding in another insult to perhaps feel more superior. Geralt simply hums in response, turning his head to you in a silent plead for you to behave.

You begrudgingly listen and keep your head down as the bearded man orders you two to leave or face a rope around your necks. Geralt stands up and yet again is taunted and challenged by this snarky little man, who then promptly insults the both of you before calling to his men to stand ready. Oh can nothing ever be easy?

Suddenly a woman's voice speaks out among the crowd like a spark in the darkness, you quickly turn your cloaked head to face this mystery woman. Her short brunette hair is messy as her dark eyes scan over the three of you, curiosity in her calculated gaze. She wears an all red top, two black leather gauntlets embroidered in gold protect her lower forearms, and a single golden broach sits pinned above her left breast. She snaps at the bearded man to stay quiet as her eyes find your shadowed ones.

She gifts a mutual nod of respect before politely apologizing for her men's rudeness as she then askes them to leave, to your surprise, the bulldog-like man listens and they all leave without another word. For the next however long, she kindly buys you both a drink as she wonders of your whereabouts and the agreeable need for Geralt and some new clothes. When suddenly a random girl appears asking about the kikimora, Geralt turns to you and with a nod to Renfri, the both of you are off.

You lead the way to Roach as Geralt silently follows, the girl rambling on about nothing interesting but her own personal troubles and little adventures. Until her eyes light up once they find the bloody leg of the dead kikimora hidden under a bag atop Roach's back. To yours and Geralt's disappointment she claims that her father, the alderman, will have no use for the swamp beast. But as you both turn to leave she announces that instead you should speak to Master Irion, the village wizard, insisting he will pay for ingredients for elixers. With an annoyed roll of your eyes do you turn to follow the girl, Geralt smiling at your irritated face. Now you're going to meet a fucking wizard, just what you wanted.

The alderman's daughter leads you and Geralt down a gravely dirt road as Geralt holds onto Roach's leather reigns, the three of you walking past vendors and fresh produce stalls, "Have you ever killed a succubus? A striga? Werewolf? She-wolf?" Pries the smiling girl as she walks in between you and Geralt.

"That's not a thing." He replies bluntly.

"Okay then...a dhampir?" She questions, glancing at you for a split second.

You kick a small rock that lays in your path before answering, "You're more insightful then you look." She smiles sweetly at you, giving you a knowing glance, so she's aware of what you are, interesting.

"Well, I think all that monster killing makes you two heroes." She cheerfully boasts as her attention falls upon Geralt, "My mother says you're the offspring of foul sorcery, a diabolic creation, a filthy degenerate born of Hell." She exclaims before turning to look at you, "She thinks even less of your kind, told me you're a rarity or maybe the only one, a princess of darkness...heir to the black throne, or maybe it was the blood throne? Can't remember....you two ever been to Hell? I've never even left Blaviken. Because my mothers never left Blaviken and if it's good enough for Libushe, then it's good enough for Marilka. That's my name. Marilka, like milk." She says while turning her curious gaze over to Geralt, then back to you, "What's your guys' names?"

"Geralt."

Marilka's face shifts from satisfaction for learning of your Witchers name, back to curiosity in a split second, "Like garroter? Nice...where are you from Geralt?" She wonders.

"Rivia."

Marilka nods in understanding as she focuses her attention back to you, "What's your name?"

"Y/N....of Alkatraz." You tell her, giving her the name of your homeland so she won't ask you another question, cause lets be honest this kid doesn't need to know anything else about you. It may give her nightmares.

"I don't know where either of those places are, but I could learn, if you two'd let me." She inquires, hopeful that she may get something out of her questioning.

"No." Replies Geralt to her utter disappointment.

"Because I'm a girl and girls can't become Witchers. Which is probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard." She sasses, earning a smile from both yours and Geralt's dirty faces. "I want more...I have to be more, because I don't know what to do in Blaviken for the rest of my life, except go to the boring old market."

"And kill rats." Replies Geralt with a tiny amused grin as he shares a glance with you.

"And dogs." You add, causing Marilka to laugh as a large smile appears onto her young beaming face.

——

"Here we are." She announces once the three of you make it to the looming tower of grey stone, the house of the wizard. Geralt gives Marilka the reigns to Roach as you walk closer under the brick archway where giant wooden doors await. Even before Geralt is able to reach for the doors do you touch his arm, a wary expression clear on your face, you can see the way that the doors shimmer with magic. Something unseen to the eyes of men, or even a Witcher for that matter.

"An illusion." You explain, not wanting to go any further but also not wanting to miss out on what alluring mystery lays hidden behind the enchanted doors.

"I can hold your hand." He teases.

"You can kiss my arse."

"I can do that too." Whispers Geralt while you let out a breathy laugh.

Letting go of his arm, you both enter at the same time to a bright vibrant wall of enticing rainbows that dances across your vision as your gaze adjusts to the view. Your scarlet eyes going wide, first in awe of the spirited beauty of the gardens before a shocked laugh escapes your mouth once you see the naked women tending to the trees. Oh.

You turn to find Geralt seemingly quite disinterested and looking rather cleaner then he once was, his white hair much snowier then a moment ago, his black cloak gone from his shoulders, as well as your own. The both of you look upon a great floating tree in the center of the sun kissed courtyard, your ears suddenly pricking to the sound of closely approaching footsteps to your right. You snap your head over to the sight of a richly dressed man holding a wooden staff.

"Greetings. I am Stregobor....Master Stregobor. Sorcerer." Announces the greying bearded man who holds an oaken staff with a white crystal encircled at the top by the bending wood holding it prisoner. Why does he look oddly familiar?

"We have a kikimora for Master Irion." Mutters Geralt bluntly, Stregobor flashing a tiny grin in curiosity for the random presence of yourself and Geralt.

"Yes, well, forgive the confusion. Irion created this tower, but he's been dead 200 years. So, in order to honor him, I've taken his name as my...personal sobriquet." Explains Stregobor, Geralt simply hums in reply as you put a hand on your hip. Wizards and their deceitful tricks.

Scoffing, you glance around your current setting, "He create this illusion, too?" You ask with a raise of your eyebrow, the wizard turns with an unabashed smile to look at his pleasurable surroundings.

"No, his is, uh...this is my own creation. Helps pass time more delightfully." Answers Stregobor with a telling half grin upon his aging face, Geralt watches the irritation grow onto your clean dirt-less face as you shake your head.

Crossing your arms over your chest you eye up the old wizard, "Because you're in hiding, Stregobor." His demeanor immediately changes at your blunt reply, he didn't anticipate you'd figure him out so quickly. Why else would a renowned mage flee to this horseshit of a town and change his name to the long dead wizard?

He ever-so-slightly turns his head to the side, eyeing you distrustfully, "How very clever of you...princess, of night." States the annoyed wizard who hands you a glare, Geralt smirks as he watches this small tension filled interaction between the two of you. In all honesty, you're not surprised that this wizard knows who you are. You've been around for quite some time on this Continent, and anyways, you are the only dhampir known to exist who also happens to be a princess to the true Vampire Queen of the Northern Kingdoms.

With a curt turn of his body does Stregobor retain his once lost, now more welcoming demeanor as he nods for yourself and your Witcher to follow. He leads you two down an open hallway, where naked ladies and fruit filled trees remain on either side minding their business. They aren't real after all.

"Not often do we see the likeness of you two here in Blaviken." Admits the wizard, his fancy robes swishing as he walks.

"Not many of our likeness left." Replies Geralt as you walk down the stone hallway by his side, your eyes still wandering over the strange beauty of this pleasant illusion in contrast to the gloominess of Blaviken.

"Hm. Well Witcher I'd offer you my condolences, but...I seem to remember that Witchers don't feel...anything." You keep your eyes ahead of you, he doesn't know you and Geralt are most definitely a thing, "I'm grateful destiny brought you two to me."

"Marilka brought us to you." Inquires Geralt as he averts his golden eyes from the bareness of the magical women, a grim expression lingering onto your features the longer you stay in this dreadful palace of lies. Suddenly Stregobor walks in front of the both of you, stopping you from walking any further.

"Oh, Marilka. Marilka works for me. Now and then. On matters of great importance." Reveals Stregobor as he glances between you and Geralt, of course the little shit was a simple messenger, you should have known a wizard would want to see the only Witcher and dhampir within a two-hundred mile radius who happen to be in town.

Geralt lets out an annoyed sigh as you lean against a white marble pillar, "A reclusive sorcerer who uses an alias and hires a young girl to procure him a Witcher and one of the only known dhampirs. You don't want our monster. You want us to kill yours." Declares Geralt calmly as the old wizard stands with a satisfied smirk upon his face. Your head tilts as you cross your arms over your chest, giving Stregobor a judgmental look.

"Very clever. Indeed." Muses the wizard with a knowing squint of his blue eyes.

"What kind?" You wonder, intrigued with this new information that could possibly result in much needed coin.

Stregobor goes quiet for a second as his voice goes hushed, "The worst kind." His look turns wary, as you notice the concealed fear that flashes across his face, "The human kind." He moves in closer, like if he speaks too loud this human will hear his treachery and slay him on the spot, "Its name is Renfri." He whispers before abruptly turning and walking down the short stone steps to the gardens. You turn to give Geralt a quizzical look, he simply hums with a small shrug, so instead you decide to follow Stregobor to find the reasoning behind his assumptions about Renfri.

She doesn't appear to look like the worst kind of human. Now you've personally seen the worst kinds of humans in your travels, this all intrigues you so.

"Destiny has many faces, Witcher. Mine for example, is beautiful on the outside, but...hideous on the inside." Explains Stregobor as he holds a perfectly red apple in his right hand while Geralt leans his muscular arm against a stone fountain while you stand next to him. "She has stretched her bloody talons towards me." He claims, not a hint of falseness lacing his words, but you're not convinced of his rambling quite yet.

Fumbling with the leather gauntlets on your forearms do you look up at him, "Wizards are all the same. You talk nonsense while making wise and meaningful faces." You growl, "Don't waste our time." Stregobor ceases the illusion of the red apple in his hand, giving you a humored half smile, knowing he's been seen through for his vagueness.

"Have you ever heard of the....Curse of the Black Sun?" Starts the wizard as his eyes dart between you and Geralt, who's not particularly keen on learning about more mysterious history that this strange old man may have possibly been involved in.

"Yes. Although I'm assuming you'd like to tell it." You sass, the wizard ignores your remark as he turns back to Geralt, explaining further.

"First full eclipse in 1,200 years. It marked the imminent return of Lilit, demon goddess of the night sent to exterminate the human race. According to the wise mage Eltibald, Lilit's path was to be prepared by 60 women wearing gold crowns who'd fill the river valleys with blood." You watch as Geralt hums in response to the wizards superstitious nonsense.

"Doesn't rhyme. All good predictions rhyme." Replies Geralt unimpressed.

"I studied the girls born around the Black Sun, and I found horrendous internal mutations among them. I tried to cure them, locked them in towers for safekeeping, but the girls always died." Your face twists in disgust at the atrocious proclamations Stregobor is freely giving you. No shit they died, who wants to be locked away?

"Internal mutations?" Pries Geralt.

"They were autopsied, of course, to confirm my suspicions. But eliminating these women was the lesser evil. They could have drowned entire kingdoms in blood." He states confidently, sure of his actions, "If you'd been alive during Falks's Rebellion, seen what I saw..."

"Innocent women are dead." Mutters Geralt, anger low in his gravely voice as you stare daggers in Stregobor's direction, what was this mans deal with hurting these poor women, how did he know if these princess' would have actually have done what was supposedly said?

"But not Renfri, the dark eyed one." You add, the wizard looks away knowing he's been caught for his interior motives, "She's after you, can't imagine why." You jab with a smirk as he walks around the fountain.

"Daughter of King Fredefalk of Creyden. I delivered the princess myself in the middle of the afternoon in pitch black." He says while keeping his gaze onto something nearby as he remembers his past dealings.

"Under the Black Sun, so....she's cursed." Muses Geralt as he throws his arms to his sides, not believing in this ridiculous story one bit, Stregobor whips around, an offended look upon his face.

"Do you consider me a fool, Witcher?" He snaps.

"Very much." His blue eyes glare at you with malice as you smile a sweet fangy grin back at him before continuing his explanation, still agitated that he's not getting any help from either of you.

"Do you think I did not conduct research? Renfri was acutely affected. Her stepmother, Aridea, told me she tortured a canary, strangled two puppies, even gouged out her maid's eye with a comb."

"She would have fit right in with my family then." You whisper with a light chuckle, he simply ignores you, a small smile flashing onto Geralt's face.

"I admit what happened next was not ideal, but...with the lives of Adrea's own children on the line, we had to act. So I dispatched someone to follow Renfri into the woods. We found him in the brush, Renfri's antique brooch jammed into his ear. After that, I organized a manhunt to find the princess, but...eh...she was gone." He rambles with a dismissive wave of his hands as he turns away from you both once again, remembering aged memories, "Two years. Until she reappeared, robbing and murdering merchants on the roads of Mahakam. Impaled them on sticks at first, but soon, she picked up sword skills. And now no man can defy her, it's said." Inquires Stregobor with a troubled look in Geralt's direction.

"You're not a man. You're a magician." States Geralt, implying that Stregobor should be able to handle this shit himself, considering he's an actual wizard and all.

"She's resistant to magic." Reveals Stregobor dismally.

Your face turns to a mix of confusion and curiosity, "That's impossible in humans." You add, never had you heard of something like this before.

"Not...mutated ones. She's chased me for years, bent on revenge. And now she attacked me here, just as you two have arrived." Declares the wizard in a hushed voice as he glances from you to Geralt, "Destiny." He whispers dramatically, "Kill her. I'll pay whoever lands the fatal blow, anything."

Geralt lets out a sigh, "We kill monsters."

"The kikimora kills because it's hungry. Renfri kills for pleasure. She is a monster. She is the last of Lilit's women. And she possess the power to destroy us all." Insists Stregobor as he leans in closer to Geralt who does not look pleased.

"If she's the last, this demon goddess cannot return considering you killed them all."

The old wizard gives you a look, "I did what was necessary for the survival of the human race, she is after me. I would rather keep my life and keep her from murdering anyone else just because she can. She has the power to bring forth unspeakable calamity."

"I don't believe anyone has that power." You reply, gifting this nutcase a less then friendly expression as you turn to leave without another word.

"You will sorely regret this." Calls out Stregobor.

"Will we?" Speaks your Witcher before turning and walking over to the small staircase leading away from the gardens. You leave Geralt on the steps, not caring for him and this wizards small exchange of words dealing with choosing between the lesser evils. You walk down the short sunny stone hallway, past more naked women and plant life as you make your way for the enchanted doors.

Enough with this mess.

——

After the events of earlier, consisting of an info dump of unneeded disturbing knowledge thrust upon you and Geralt by a rightfully paranoid old wizard, you and your silver haired man made sure to find a place in the nearby forest to camp for the night away from the village, and it's watchful residents. He grinds up some type of healing herb as you pet Roach, feeding her a well deserved carrot that you stole from the market.

Suddenly your nose catches the scent of Stregobor's worst fears, you turn in the direction of the approaching woman, a protective hand still on the mane of Roach. Renfri silently nods to you as you glance down to where Geralt is crouched, wordlessly implying for her to leave you alone and to discuss her intentions with the Witcher instead. Renfri accepts your soundless order without a word, turning she walks towards Geralt where she squats down just the same.

While petting Roach, you can't help but eavesdrop on their conversation. Renfri explains in dreadful first hand detail of what Stregobor's men really did to her in the woods before letting her live, those sick bastards. She then explains her reasoning that led her to where she is now, on her bloody war path of revenge and that now she wants you two to kill Stregobor in place of herself. Exclaiming it's the lesser evil, something you've heard too much of today which has you wondering what destiny has in store.

Geralt brushes her off as he stands up and walks over to you and Roach, Renfri following.

"I could have become so many things." She says longingly, a small smile upon her lips, "Queen Calanthe of Cintra, she just won her first battle at Hochebuz. But here I am, trying to convince you I'm not.."

"A monster." You interrupt as her gaze locks onto you.

"How am I to know?" She asks, "When I cut my finger I bleed...That's human right? When I overeat, my stomach aches. When I'm happy, I laugh. When I'm upset, I swear. And when I hate someone for stealing my whole life away from me, I kill him."

Geralt hums in thought as you purse your lips together at her truthful words before walking a couple feet away from them, her dark eyes flicker from you to Geralt, "People call you a monster too."

"A mutant." He corrects.

She smiles knowingly as her gaze settles onto your face, "You're more monster then the two of us. What if they come after you? Attack you? Why not kill them?"

"Because then I am what they say I am." You share a glance with Geralt, "We both are."

"If I tell you, Witcher..." Eyes set over to you, "..fellow princess, that I can neither forgive Stregobor nor renounce my revenge, it that it? I admit I'm a monster?"

"Yes." You add before taking a step closer to Renfri, "Or you can leave Blaviken and finally live. You choose, princess."

Geralt leads Roach up the small hill as you walk past Renfri to follow, she stands there a moment in defeat before turning her head to face your retreating forms, "What if that's not my final choice? What if I want more? What if I deserve it?"

Geralt halts as you pause your movement to face Renfri, "Then what? Kill him and be done with it? You deserve your wrath, but he deserves lasting fear for his own crimes. Maybe that old fuck was right and the daughters born under the Black Sun would bring chaos to this world...however that time is long done with. Lilit isn't coming, and you can choose to be free."

"He deserves death."

"He does, but if you kill him. You will always be hunted for this." You explain truthfully, "Renfri, you could leave this all behind and know he will always fear you for the rest of your days, is that not enough? Must you murder and be prosecuted for it too? Never free, never to travel in peace again? Is that what you want?"

Her scowl begins to slowly turn into a deep frown at your insightful words of wisdom. She knows you're right but cannot stop how her heart and soul feels towards everything she's ever set her mind to in regards to this wizard. She glares at the ground while you turn to travel elsewhere at last, the both of you leaving Renfri by the stream to deal with her own conflicted thoughts.

——

"Are you talking to Roach again about your monster slaying?" You quip as a smirk dances across your face. He looks up at you from petting Roach to shake his head with an embarrassed smile as he promptly walks over to sit upon a log and continue his grinding of that healing herb from earlier.

He glances up at you as you approach him, "Oh how I've missed your witty mouth." Muses Geralt with a half smile as you take off your cloak and go to sit down next to him.

"I just went to take a piss, calm your thoughts." He chuckles in amusement as your eyes find his hand, watching intently a he focuses his attention onto the boring task, "What hurts now?"

"Nothing. This is for when I actually get injured." You click your tongue in reply, an appealing idea popping into your mind while you silently move your hand, letting your fingers lightly touch his thigh.

Biting your lip you try and watch for a sign, "Why don't you use those strong hands of yours for something less, tedious." He immediately halts his actions, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he slowly turns his head to you. Raising an eyebrow at your more sensual implications.

"If the lady insists." He mutters, setting the bowl onto the leafy forest floor as he leans in closer to you, your lips making heated contact.

Under the cover of darkness, with only the small burning of the dwindling firelight do you make love to your Witcher until the moon sits high into the night sky. He feels amazing and works as a much needed distraction from the tiresome events of the day, you being the same for him.

You wake up with a start as Geralt mumbles Renfri's name, waking himself up in the process from whatever strange dream he must have been having. Suddenly your eyes go wide in realization, Renfri had claimed she would leave Blaviken in the morning, but you think otherwise.

"The market."

——

You and Geralt walk through the dreary village, no cloaks or thick leather armor adorning either one of your bodies except for your gauntlets and the thicker laced material around your torso. He carries his silver sword in his right hand, holding the blade upwards as to conceal it better from anyone directly in front of him. You walk steadily by his side, your dagger sheathed at your hip, you haven't come here to shed blood. But you know better then to assume otherwise, your suspicions further coming to light when your crimson eyes lock onto the balding bulldog looking man from yesterday in the tavern. One of Renfri's men, he looks ready to fight, with a smirk upon his smug face and a strange weapon clutched in his right hand, more of Renfri's men gathering behind him.

He spits at your feet, "She knew you two'd come." Assures the man, stopping a small distance away from you and Geralt, about five more of her followers spread about behind him.

"Where's Renfri?" Grumbles Geralt calmly, not particularly fond of what may follow.

"She's at the tower with your little friend, Marilka." The bald one sneers, a grim smile still holding onto his lips. A dark haired man in dirty faded green clothing with soot smeared about his lean face steps forward, standing next to the bald one.

"She gave us a message to pass on to you both. You have to choose the lesser evil." Challenges the dark haired man. The lesser evil, hmm.

A slightly fatter man steps forth, "It's an ultimatum." He insists while pulling out his sword from its sheath, "Get it?"

Half of them are giving you nasty smirks as they bare their own weapons, sure of themselves in how things are about to turn out for them, they have no idea just how fucked they truly are. Though you'd rather not begin this insignificant battle considering they're just men who have been blinded and manipulated by a rightfully furious princess. Why can't they just all fuck off to the woods and maybe fall down a hill?

They move in place, all ready to do some damage when another one spits at the ground. "Fuck." Mutters Geralt as he shares a dismal glance with you. No sooner does this happen do your ears prick at the familiar sound of a crossbow trigger being pressed, thus launching an arrow that slices through the air with a distinctive sing.

Time slows and you watch as a sharp arrow follows its masters path straight for Geralt's chest, in an instant he cuts it down from its path with a swift ploy of his sword. The arrow falls to the muddy ground, forgotten as soon as another man charges him, yelling out a battle cry as he ignores you, heading directly for Geralt with a quick swing of his sword. A man with an axe catches your gaze, rage in his grey eyes as he gives you an ugly smile before making a heated dash in your direction.

He swings his axe up in preparation for the death blow he's about to give, in the precious seconds that he takes to keep his arms up, you take this opportunity to unsheathe your dagger and drive it straight through his vulnerable skull. Pulling it out he instantly falls to the ground with a hard thud, blood spurting everywhere; another man throws his sword at you while admitting his own battle cry.

You skillfully duck under his powerful swing, bringing your dagger up to slice open his torso in the process, his screams filling the morning air as his insides fall out of him, you don't look back to watch as he falls, dying in the mud. You race past the crossbowman who's still frantically loading in another bolt, Geralt taking care of the dark haired man in the background.

Four more of Renfri's men charge at you, swords in one hand and shields in the other. A large man screams at you as he throws his heavy sword towards your shoulder, you quickly manifest yourself into a pack of screeching black bats. Flying yourself past the surprised man and his other friends before shifting back into your original form. They turn towards you in frightful bewildered confusion, completely taken aback by your unexpected display of abilities. In this time you quickly jab your dagger through the throat of the last man closest to you. Blood spurts out of his fresh wound as you take a step back, suddenly the other three are thrust backwards by the force of Geralt's magic. One of them quickly recovers and launches himself in your direction, leaving his two other companions to die at the hands of the Witcher.

He smartly keeps his shield in front of him for protection as he swings his sword at you. You turn to your right and jump up onto the wooden wall of someone's house as the man slashes at you, missing his target. You jump down behind him and in one swift motion pull his head back, slitting a deep cut into his throat. He falls to the ground, choking on his own blood as he bleeds out into the dirty streets of the market. In an instant Geralt is at your side when you hear the terrified shrieks of Marilka, who's trapped in the deadly clutches of Renfri, a silver blade pressed against her neck.

You stay where you are as Geralt slowly approaches Renfri, he keeps his sword lowered to the ground as she watches wide eyed and fuming.

"You chose." She whispers, shocked at how fast everything went to shit, her plans now ruined.

"Let the girl go." He pleads, Renfri looks down at Marilka in disgust, blade still closely pressed against her neck.

She scoffs, "I will kill her. I will kill everyone here until Stregobor comes down." She hisses, venom practically dripping off of her tongue.

"Leave Blaviken." Inquires Geralt as he pinches his fingers together, ready to use destructive magic on her, "It's not to late."

"Magic doesn't work on me." Fumes Renfri as Marilka whimpers beneath her arms, "Silver does, though." She adds softly, a look of pure hate upon her dirt smudged features.

"Silver is for monsters."

Renfri suddenly shoves Marilka to the side as she throws her blade upon her left arm, the fight of a lioness coursing through her veins.

"If we cross swords..." States Geralt cautiously as he begins to back up.

"I won't be able to stop." Breaths Renfri while advancing forward towards Geralt.

You watch as she skillfully lays into him, blocking his swings as he does the same with each of her deadly hits. He suddenly gains the upper hand and pins her against a wall, a second later she stabs him in the abdomen with her hidden dagger. He pulls back as she slashes at him once again, rage fueling her motives, they dance in the marketplace. The clashing of silver on silver and their heavy breathing is all that you can hear besides the beating of their hearts as blood pumps through them, adrenaline coursing throughout their systems.

You want to stop her, but this is their fight. Honor among warriors keeps you to the sidelines, this would be unfair of you to join him.

Without warning she slashes Geralt's muscular thigh, sending him to the ground with a grunt from the quick pain, in an instant she's thrusting her dagger towards his throat. But before she has a chance to lay anymore life threatening damage you swiftly block her small blade with your own weapon. Time to intervene apparently. Her face glares at you as she pulls back, your body hastily stepping in front of Geralt as he tries to gather himself, his leg throbbing in pain.

You carefully eye up the princess, "You should have left Blaviken." She smirks at your remark before swinging her sword at you. Quickly dodging her blow you shift to the side as she advances forward, launching more attacks left and right, you're able to block them with your dagger as this weapon's large enough to clash with hers. It doing enough damage on its own, even against her sword.

"No man can kill me." She hisses breathlessly as you clash your silver dagger against her shinning sword, she moves to the side as you skillfully thwart another one of her deadly assaults.

You lightly chuckle at her proclamation, "I am no man." You snap, whipping your body around to block another heated blow, she simply sneers at you, her eyes flashing with hatred.

Another slash of her sword sends you reeling backwards, your dangerous waltzing taking you and her between two houses and into another courtyard. When she brings her sword towards your stomach you quickly grab the hilt right out of her hand, taking her by surprise at your abrupt strength and inhuman reflexes. You point the ruthless silver at her jugular, your eyes two glowing rubies staring into her black stormy irises. She stares you down defiantly, nothing in her cold dark eyes but rage, you almost pity her.

Breathing heavily, you cautiously twist her sword in your hand so that your grip is holding it easier, keeping it close to her skin the whole time. You throw your large dagger to the ground, pulling away her sword from her throat and bringing it down to your side. Her brows furrow but only for a moment before she thrusts her dagger en route for your own windpipe. Dropping your sword, you quickly catch her hands clutched around her weapon with incredible speed as you then turn it around to face her. The blade pushes soundlessly into her flesh as you step closer, your blood spotted sweaty faces inches apart as her eyes go wide in realization.

You blink, pulling the dagger out with a shling sound in its wake, blood seeps out of it in a shiny tide of crimson enough to match the color of your saddened eyes. You hold her in your left arm, sword in your right, she stares up at you with nothing. You suddenly feel dreadful.

"The girl in the woods will be with near you always. She is his destiny." Gasps Renfri quietly as she searches for your eyes as something to hold onto before she's gone from this world. She didn't want this and neither did you, but she chose.

You can't help but feel horrible at what you've just done, none of this shit should have ever happened to her, she could of had a wonderful life with happy days and laughter. Instead she got betrayal and blood from the hands of a wicked wizard and his ill intent. You slowly lower her dying body onto the soft ground as shaky breaths rush from your lips. She's growing paler as a river of blood runs out of her wounds, dripping onto the mud.

Your expression contorts into a conflicted frown, you feel unbelievably terrible. "Rest now." You softly speak a last kindness, a pained expression painted across your face as you watch the light from her eyes dissipate away. When you rise from the ground Geralt stands quietly before you, a soft gaze lingering with your somber one.

"Why does it always end this way?" You wonder, anger rising into your words. Geralt lowers his head, reaching down to pick up your discarded dagger. He hands it to you, blood smeared over the hilt and blade. You walk away from the dead laying in the dry mud, Geralt following you.

—-

"Incredible. Marilka. Marilka? Marilka! Get me a cart." Demands Stregobor as he turns his head away from an approaching Geralt, "We'll take her to the tower for an autopsy."

He holds his sword up to the old wizards neck, "If you touch a single hair on her head, yours will be on the ground next." Growls Geralt, not an ounce of falsehood lacing his words. Stregobor gives him a quizzical look as you step closer to the two of them, irritation glaring back at him through eyes of crimson.

"Have you gone mad? Her mutation, it influences people. That's how she got these men to follow her. We need to take it." Insists the wizard, pausing for a moment to study Geralt's face, he tilts his head knowingly, "She got to you too, didn't she? That's why your beast had to slay her, jealousy perhaps." He concludes, glancing to you for a split second with a punchable smirk upon his aging features.

"Do not...touch her." Hisses Geralt in a low and menacing tone, Stregobor seemingly unaffected by his threats.

"Witcher." He states in the tone of a disappointed father, "You butchered bodies in the streets of Blaviken, with the princess of night at your side, killing at your command." He rules out, a crowd of shocked villagers gathering close by, sending angry looks your way.

"You're a beast." Shouts one man.

"You've both endangered the girl." Cries a woman.

"Beast!"

"She'll turn us into night creatures next.."

"Killers!"

Stregobor simply half smiles, "You took the law into your own hands." More insults are screamed and yelled at by the growing crowd of displeased rowdy villagers, "You both made a choice. And you'll never know if it was the right one." He whispers, pleased with how things have turned out for him.

Suddenly a rock cracks you in the side of your temple, another one catching Geralt on the side of his head as people from the crowd shout more insults and heated threats. He kneels to the ground, picking up Renfri's brooch as more rocks bounce off of his back. You keep onto your feet, glaring at Stregobor from the hood of your eyes as you tilt your head down, your hands balled into tight fists at your sides while more rocks are being thrown at you. Marilka walks in front of the two of you, a pitifully disappointed look upon her young face.

Her lip trembles, "Get out of Blaviken, the both of you. Don't ever come back." She warns as tears well up in the corners of her hazel eyes, Geralt slowly stands as he turns a downcast look in your direction. You give a small nod in mutual understanding, it's time to go. As you turn on your heel and take a step forward, the people of Blaviken immediately go silent as they watch your every move.

They back away as you and Geralt pass through the dreary streets on your way out of the village, soon they gain their confidence back as they scream and curse, clenching their fists. A couple bold teenagers chucking more stones, aiming to shed blood. Aiming to feel strong.

You and your Witcher keep your heads down, eyes upon the dirt as they scream and harass you both all the way to the gates. You make your way for the woods, dirt and blood marking unkindly upon your dispirited features.

Everything feels so wrong, and your head feels cloudy with troubled thoughts and dismal images. You just wanted to travel to Blaviken to get Geralt some new clothes, this is not how you intended for things to go.

-

Tagged: @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​@haleypearce (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

[guigz1-coldwar]

'Only time' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Only time"

"Freya, what I need right now is only time....I'm trying to stay strong !"

Chapter Summary : Yirina has managed to survive & won during the trigger memories Stitch & Freya forced her to relive but since they thought to have won....she needed to play the second act.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3300

Taglist : @snowgoldwaylon , @clxudtea , @efingart

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

They think they have won me....they think they have succeeded to break me and my control over my body by making me relive the same trigger memories that put me to reveal Perseus location 3 years ago and now, they wanted me to....put me back into their ranks but that didn't work and they don't really know that for the moment. I already faced that battle and I knew how things were going to happen, it was also the first time....I disobeyed in those memories, always thinking that I was doomed to follow the orders but I was wrong. Now....I only have to do one thing....

"She's moving her arms, she's awakening !"

"Her eyes are following too !"

I heard these voices back during my trigger memories but now, I could hear them well as my eyes were slowly opening up, blinded by the light that was almost above me, trying to move but still attached to that stretcher, my head hurting me like it did before, half in the vapes until my eyes were now widely open, discovering Freya near me, her hands on the stretcher with Dedov next to her, him looking to an file in his hands until Stitch arrived in the room, going in front of Freya at the other side of the stretcher.

"So, she's awake, it seems." He observed, looking at me before removing his eyes away. "It took almost 2 hours but she's back." He added.

"Her state was mostly stable during that time, nothing to worry about." Dedov affirmed, giving the file to Stitch.

"Where...I am ?" I asked in an low voice, starting my second...act of play....

"It's alright, Yirina." Freya replied, moving slowly to put her hands on my face, stroking my cheeks. "You're safe now with us." She affirmed again, having removed her mask from her face.

"Do you think she still has her memories or not ?" Stitch demanded, handing over the file back to Dedov before looking to me again.

"Guess an test is necessary to know that, sir." He proposed, putting the file away behind him as Freya get her hands off me in an gentle way.

"Well, to start easily, do you remember your name ?" Stitch started, his hands behind his back.

"Uhm...Yirina..Grigoriev ?" I muttered, fainting to think about it and the three nodded, Dedov biting his lips away.

"Good for the moment." He scratched the back of his head, looking thinkful.

"What's the last thing I remember, Yirina ?" Freya questioned, looking worried to be honest, thinking that she didn't want me to lose my memories.

"I don't know." I whispered as in my head, I was looking through some memories that was going inside my head, wanting to find an far away one. "Yes...Afghanistan." I claimed, having found the perfect one.

"Afghanistan ?" Freya & Stitch chuckled in unison, very curious towards me.

"Yes, you don't remember, Freya ?" I said, looking at her with an little grin and also an tear appearing on my left eye. "I...I proposed." I revealed, causing her eyes to go wide.

"You proposed...but to who ?" Stitch demanded, sounding an bit stunned to hear that until he looked at Freya. "Wait, she proposed to you ?" She nodded to him.

"Yes, she did." She grinned an little, taking my left hand in her owns before an feeling of sadness took over her face. "But...this was 4 years ago." She snorted.

"What....4 years ?" I sounded shocked, thinking at first that I was awakening from an coma to them. "What happened ?" I asked, seeing the concerns of their looks as they weren't ready to this. "Freya, tell me." I pleaded.

"I don't know but...." She started, her eyes mixing between Dedov & Stitch...she was surely thinking of an fake story in her head. "Listen, the most important is that you're back with us." She affirmed, suddenly avoiding the subject.

"Yes, she's right." Stitch exclaimed, pointing at her as for me, I knew that I couldn't remember of everything.

"Who are you ?" I faked to not knowing him before I looked at Freya. "Freya, who is he ?" I continued to question her.

"You don't remember Stitch ?" I shook my head to her, still 'wondering' who was that masked man with an black hood near me.

"Dedov, is there any explanations to that ?" Stitch wasn't sounding sad or mad....just normal.

"Well, it seems that the br-....the recovery...." He purposely coughed but in me, I was realizing that they will try everything to hide the brainwashing from me. "It could have saved some of her memories while the others are needing time to be recovered."

"So, as we see, she's still having her memories but they're kinda random." Stitch suggested, putting his hands on the stretcher and Dedov nodded to him.

"Yes but as we have seen, she's not considering herself as another person." Dedov added to that statement, making me 'wonder' why they were talking about another person. "We will might need to make others recovery tests but it will not be before 2 days." He continued, giving his thoughts on the situation.

"It's about the risks to not losing her, I'm correct ?" Freya theorized, still following by an nodding from Dedov.

"We will have more time to do the tests on the other woman." Stitch proclaimed, crossing his arms to look at Park's direction....she was asleep, an few doctors around her....they must have start to drug her, the same situation I faced for days and now, it was her turn...

"Do you know her, Yirina ?" It was Freya that was going to ask me that question for sure, feeling her voice near me as I was looking at Park unconscious.

"No." I lied, cracking in the inside to not acknowledge her. "Is she...someone you're trying to save too ?" I asked back, looking at the three of them.

"Yes, we're trying to save her too." Freya claimed, feeling the whole lie behind her voice.

"She's suffering the same fate as you, Grigoriev." Stitch quoted, trying to be funny to me, that wasn't working at all. "Anyway, Dedov, you continue to direct the test for Park to see when we can start." He ordered in an clear voice to hom, causing him to salute and join the doctors near Park, leaving me alone with Stitch & Freya. "What now ?"

"Now ?" Freya was an bit strangely happy to be honest.  "I'm bringing her with me to my quarters." She admitted, sending me chills in my body to hear that.

"Wait, you're actually saying that you want her to be with you, to roam that base freely ?" Stitch protested, almost slamming his fists against the stretcher.

"She will stay with me all the time between each test, nothing to worry about." She exclaimed, trying to reason him.

"That might be the stupidest plan I have ever heard." He objected as Freya was starting to removing the links of the stretcher to set me free.

"She's one of us, remember ?" She seemed to correct him, removing the link that was avoiding my legs to move before finishing by my hands & chest, making me fully free after hours on that thing.

"Why I was attached ?" I demanded, making round with my both hands to relax them better from the links. "Was it because I did hurt someone ?"

"No, not at all, it was for your safety." Freya replied, helping to get up back on my feets, keeping her hands on me in case.

"Before you go with her, I need to talk to you about an important detail." Stitch interrupted her as she was starting to go away with me out of the medical room. "Without her, of course." He corrected him.

"Yirina, await me outside, okay ?" She ordered to me and I nodded, opening the door for me and let me go outside with me staying near the door, back closed by her.

Honestly, I could have run away and escape this place but...I wasn't going to let them have Park, she was still in that room behind me, been experimented on, surely going to brainwash her and I have to do something. I tried to put my ears to listen about what the two were going to talk about but it was mostly muffling and the only real audibles parts I could hear was about Sonya themselves but I couldn't listen to everything until the door opened again by Freya, having some luck to have removed my ears seconds before.

Then, I was now obliged to follow her for the first time, not been handcuffed or drugged but I was master of my own movements in those hallways and for the first time, I could discover the outside in days. Unfortunately, it was already the night and I couldn't exactly know where this location was but it was surely an military base. Freya was explaining that she was going to help me relive some memories of my life and for that, I was going to live with her in her own personal quarters in another part of the base in an building.

"Here we are !" She said after we got inside an big building that was near an small airstrip and then, in front of an door that I supposed to be her quarters. "Welcome home, Yiri." She whispered, opening the door, to make me discover where she was living in this base : it was modest but looking like an officer quarters.

"Is this where you live ?" I asked her and she nodded as I enter the room first thanks to her.

"Exactly, we've been established here for an month now." She replied, closing the door behind me as she passed near by, removing her military vest off her, going to the king-sized bed....maybe better than the bed in that cell. "We're making some operations against our enemies."

"Okay." I muttered, watching her undressing her on that bed without moving at all from my position.

"You're not coming ?" She stopped herself, watching me like a site block.

"I don't know...should I ?" I demanded, pointing at her.

"Of course and you're looking tired." She responded, removing her pants before she tapped next to her, the position she wanted to give me on that bed. "Come on, don't be shy." She told me, looking at me, unsure until I resigned myself to do so and join her in the bed but not even removing my clothes. "Take them off, Yiri, it's fine."

"No, I'm better with them." I expressed, installing myself in the bed, looking at the other direction while my head was hold by my right hand. I couldn't really remove my clothes here, uncomfortable to do so.

"If you want..." She chuckled before she put her arm around my chest, wanting to keep me with her. "I told you that I will bring you home." She affirmed in an clear voice, holding me firmly as I was blank stare, looking at the wall away....I need an plan....

I know that I needed to talk to someone and that particular person was none other than Bell....me...myself. She's the one who told me that I was going to hold on & fight, that I will maybe won that fight and that my help was going to be in the inside and all of this was true, she saw what happened but I needed to know more. As I thought to find myself on that airstrip in Turkey or that cliff in Solovetsky, it was another place I found myself in : the old CIA safehouse in West-Berlin...E9...

This place was looking empty of people but it was looking used with an lot of paperworks on the desks all around and that dashboard.....that dashboard full of intels we got over the days in 1981. It was weird to go back here even if it was only an dream and I was just alone until I saw an figure of myself, working at Park's old desk...the place I was also used to work on...Bell was still wearing the same outfit from Solovetsky.

"I know you will do it." She started, going up from the seat she was sitting on as I was leaned against Adler's desk. "I told you that you will won that fight." She added with an smile on her face.

"You did, thanks." I thanked her with my gratitude, an grin on my face.

"No, no need to thanks me, I'm just yourself." She scoffed, raising her shoulders before she arrived near me.

"You told me that my help was going to be in the inside, you were right." I admitted, crossing my arms to remember about what happened. "These americans soldiers, they....they were like now aware of my state and they tried to help me."

"And they did help you." She affirmed, making an tap on my shoulder. "You broke the control that Stitch had on you, allowing you to make your own choices in that memory." She added, giving me an explanation of my moves.

"I didn't know how it happened but disobeying these orders...." I stopped myself, thinking about how I could disobey the orders without consequences. "Was it something that could have been done ?"

"Yes, we just done it." She smiled, not realizing my seriousness of my question but I decided to not say anything else, looking at Perseus picture on the dashboard. "But I'm afraid that this victory is short-living." She muttered, looking down.

"What do you mean ?" I demanded, worried.

"They're thinking that they won you back  but if more tests are happening, they will really win you !" She revealed, realizing the danger of the situation. "You have only an short time to think of something." She ordered, clearly.

"I'll try but if they're limiting my movements, it isn't going to be easy." I said, getting up from the desk to get next to the dashboard. "And I'm not going away without Park." I told Bell, already knowing that perfectly.

"I know...I know." She exclaimed, walking next to me. "You have only one day to make it count but I know you will do this." She added, both now looking at Perseus picture.

"I'll try." I repeated in an low voice as my eyes were getting narrowed by themselves, slowly meaning that it was the end of that memory....

"I'll try to find an plan, we will soon leave this place !"

I needed an plan....that all I needed to do for the upcoming day where I couldn't know what I was going to do while been under the look of Freya herself. That thought was the first thing I had when I woke up the morning of that day to the sounds from the outside and since days, I could directly see the light of the sun coming through the window, reassuring me and bringing an smile on my face despite having an bit of pain at my chest, signifying that Freya's hold on me was an bit too firm.

When I got sit on the side of the bed, I could discover that Freya wasn't with me on the bed, her former clothes all over the floor and I could hear her inside an room...probably her own bathroom, taking an shower. I preferred to wait for her actually on the bed to come back but it seems that she was taking her time in it, causing me without actually wanting to do it, to got up from the bed and to go to the door.

"Freya ?" I knocked two times against the door, not so noisy knocks and in an low voice, looking down.

"Yirina, it's you ?" She asked me as the sound of water going out from an shower was not audible anymore.

"Yes, it's me." I responded, wondering if it was too late to go back to my tracks and on that bed.

"Good, you can come in." She suggested and without hesitation that I should have in me, I opened the door to enter the bathroom....guess it was too late to step back now. As I thought...she was partially naked, only starting to cover herself with an towel when I enter.

"You could have told me about that." I expressed, an bit blushing on my face by seeing her like that.

"Why should I ?" She raised an eyebrow with an smile. "We're engaged, remember ?" She make me remember of that from the memory I told her....feeling so bad for Sonya at this moment....They're loving her but it seems that it isn't reciprocal....I'm not loving her....but I had to act....

"I know, it's just...." I stopped myself to get sit on the side of the bath just next to me. "I'm troubled by an lot of things, Freya." I told her, joining my hands together once sit.

"It's okay." She whispered, sitting next to me, putting her left hand over mine. "Listen, you know that I'm here to help you." She affirmed again her lies as I kept an straight face to her.

"What's going to happen today ?" I demanded, wanting to know deeply.

"I'm going to make you walk around freely in the base, hoping to make you remember of things." She replied, not even flinching her eyes away from me. "It's going to be an lot of days before you could remember of everything right & good for me." She added, knowing that it was for 'her & them' in terms of good & right.

"And those tests ?" I questioned her, curious about it.

"You know what ? We should stop talking about this." She proclaimed as she start to make me look in her eyes and my hands to go around her waist....I know what she wanted but....shit, I have to act despite been weakened by that in the inside.

"What are you doing ?" I asked in an normal lowed voice, almost breathless.

"Helping you remember." She breathed she pulled me in for an kiss on my lips.

She was going to do it anyways and I had no choices but to get along with it, feeling ashamed of what I was doing but she was starting to go further by going up and making me move, holding my  hands, inside the shower before continuing to kiss me...removing her own towel off her, back to be naked before she decided to action the shower wanting to tense the kiss by making me & her wet.

I was starting to struggle inside of me to stop that kiss but more she was doing it, more I was going to fall deeply and in fact, that kiss was only broking me because of many things....Sonya's love with Freya and Freya who seems to not give an fuck about it. It was only after an few moments after she actioned the shower that I finally found the courage to actually act freely, breaking her control over me.

"Wait, stop !" I said in an clear voice, stopping the shower with my right hand before leaving the shower, all wet because of her.

"Yirina, come back." She pleaded, staying inside the shower. "What's wrong, Yiri." She demanded from me as I moved to clean up the wet redhead hair of me.

"I need time !" I replied in an harsh tone to her, feeling ashamed of that kiss I did, looking myself through the mirror. "I know that you & me are an thing but what happened to me, that sudden loss of memories." I added, passing my hand with the towel through my hair.

"Yes but I'm helping you, remember ?" She told me in an low voice, taking back her own towel on the ground as I was finished to clean up.

"Maybe but...I need time." I repeated again, turning around to not look at her at all. "I love you but I need to stay strong and for the moment, I need to stay focused and strong." I continued, giving my thoughts on the situation, between good & wrong. "I know that you're at my side but that...I don't think it's really helping me." I claimed.

"Yirina..." She whispered before stopping herself.

"I know, you're trying to help me but not like that." I admitted as I moved near the opened door to lean myself against the door frame, turned to the bedroom direction, not able to look at her in the eyes with that attire....

"I just want some time to think freely...and an plan to stay strong."

[artificialqueens]

Stupid For You, Chapter 6 (Crygi, Jankie, Jaida x Nicky) - Metaluna

Fic summary: A cliche lesbian AU. It’s the summer before Gigi goes to college, and she decides it’s time to take a job at a local amusement park. There, she meets Crystal, a beautiful girl that she with bonds over the anxiety of the service industry. Almost immediately, Gigi gets it BAD for Crystal. Meanwhile, Jackie definitely ISN’T gay. She likes men. Only. Men. What happens when a beautiful girl named Jan comes into the picture? And lastly, Nicky flirts with anything with a pulse. Jaida falls for anyone who gives her attention. This is going to be one interesting summer.

Chapter summary: As things are tense between Gigi and Crystal, Jan tries her best to intervene. 

Crystal couldn’t sleep. All she could think about were the words she said that so deeply hurt Gigi. She didn’t know where they came from. They weren’t at all from a place of malevolence. It was as though the words came out and Crystal couldn’t stop them. Before she even realized what she had said, it was too late. She understood if Gigi didn’t forgive her, considering she wasn’t sure if she’d forgive her if the roles were reversed. After tossing and turning for hours, she looked at her phone. 6:30 A.M.

Since there was no point in sleeping for half an hour, she forced herself to get out of bed. Normally, she put on a full face of makeup. Today, she couldn’t even be bothered to do her eyebrows, opting instead to wear her thick rimmed glasses. Instead of her methodically done space buns, she threw up all her hair on top of her head without brushing it.

Walking to work was the last thing that she wanted to do, but her parents had to work, and she knew Ryan would still be mad. Right as she shut her door to embark on her walk, she heard a rumble of thunder. Shit.

Even with an umbrella, by the time Crystal arrived to work, she was soaked. Crystal sighed as she put her damp backpack into her locker. She tried her best to wipe the raindrops off her glasses, but smudged them in the process, making them worse. Even though she knew it wasn’t a big deal, Crystal was at the point emotionally where every small occurrence felt like the end of the world. She felt tears form. As she wiped them away, she hoped to God no one saw.

“Hey, are you okay?” a voice asked kindly. It was Jan, who was standing next to Jackie.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m great!” Crystal could hear the fake enthusiasm dripping from her voice. “Just… something in my eye!”

“Sis, we know something’s wrong.”

Jackie agreed. “You don’t look like yourself. Let’s go sit.”

The second Crystal sat down, she started crying. Jan reached out to hold her hand. “Talk to us.”

Crystal sniffled. “I think Gi…one of my friends, hates me.”

“Why would she hate you?” Jackie asked. Crystal could tell that both Jackie and Jan caught wind that she almost said “Gigi.”

“I said some really nasty things during an argument. I mean low blows, things that no one should ever bring up, especially not during an argument.”

“Listen here, gorg. If your friend really is your friend, she would understand. We all say stupid stuff that we don’t mean. I say stupid shit to Jackie every day and she still keeps me around.”

“Jan’s right. I’m sure if you apologize to your friend, she’ll forgive you.”

“Well, here’s the thing. I don’t deserve forgiveness. This is stuff that she told me in confidence. She trusted me with this information, and I literally threw it in her face.”

Crystal looked up and saw a skinny blonde out of the corner of her eye. She and Gigi locked eyes. Almost immediately, Gigi’s face turned from a neutral expression to one of malice.

By this point, Crystal was sure that Jan and Jackie figured out who she was talking about. “Gigi’s never going to want to talk to me again. Did you see the way she just looked at me?”

“Maybe it’s not what you think,” Jan said optimistically. “Maybe she just realized she forgot something. I’ll go talk to her.”

With that, Jan left Crystal confidently got up from the table and walked over to Gigi. Strategically, Jan made sure that the two of them were standing out of Crystal’s view.

“Jan, I’m not talking about this right now. Not here. Not now,” Gigi said firmly.

“But Crystal’s a wreck right now.”

“I don’t care.”

Jan was taken aback. “Okay, wow. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, frankly it’s not any of my business. But, something bad must have happened if you went from being hung up on her to not even being able to look at the girl. Right?”

“Be quiet! No one else knows I’m…” Gigi trailed of raising her eyebrows.

“Gotcha. But damn, whatever she said was a lot, wasn’t it?”

Gigi nodded. “I just don’t want to talk to her right now. I need time.”

“I respect that, and I’m sure she can too.”

The second Jan came back to the table, Crystal demanded, “What did she say?”

 “She said she needed time.”

“Okay, but could you tell how much time?”

Jan shrugged. Crystal knew she looked pathetic, and she didn’t care. One way or another, she was going to make it right with Gigi. She cared way too much about her to give up.

–

On her break, Gigi absentmindedly scrolled through Instagram. She felt her jaw clench as she saw a picture of Crystal and her boyfriend on a hike. She noticed how radiant Crystal looked at sunset. In the picture, Crystal was kissing Ryan’s cheek, and all Gigi could think of is how much she wished it was her. She mentally kicked herself for thinking that, because she was supposed to be mad at Crystal. If anyone knew how to hold a grudge, it was Gigi. She wanted nothing more than to be mad at Crystal, to completely shut her out. But, there was something about Crystal. Gigi couldn’t bring herself to stay mad at her. As Gigi looked up she saw that Crystal was sitting at the table diagonal to her. They locked eyes for a moment, and looked away at the same time.

Even though she told Jan she didn’t want to talk to Crystal, Gigi knew it was a lie. She wanted nothing more than to run up to Crystal’s table and to talk about what happened. As she stole a glance at the redhead, Gigi saw Crystal stare at her phone intensely. After appearing to type a small novel, she tossed her phone on the table and laid her head in her hands.

Gigi looked down so as not to raise suspicion. Once a few seconds passed, Gigi deemed it an appropriate time to look up again. Gigi had never seen Crystal look so stressed, but when Gigi decided she was going to go talk to her, Crystal left in a hurry. Something was very wrong.

–

Jan had a tendency to insert herself in her friend’s problems. It wasn’t her fault, she just wanted to help. If ever there was a time to help sort out friendship problems, it was now. Jan couldn’t stand to see Gigi any less than happy, and seeing Crystal without a smile on her face hurt. Jan promised Jackie she would stop “meddling” in her friend’s problems. But she had to step in. She had to, especially after Jackie told her horror stories of how friendships were ruined over petty drama each summer. Jan had a feeling this was a little more than petty drama, but she’d be damned if her friend group would get split up.

While she was in the bathroom fixing her eyeliner, Jan heard crying one of the bathroom stalls.

“Hello?” she called.

No one responded but whoever was crying tried their best to muffle them.

“Who’s in here?” she tried again.

Jan sauntered over to the bathroom door. She opened and then closed it, and waited. Eventually, Jan heard the stall door unlock, and as she heard the faucet turn on, she rounded the corner to see Crystal staring at herself in the mirror, eyes red and puffy.

“Crystal? What’s wrong?” Jan asked sympathetically.

“Just boyfriend stuff.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Crystal shook her head. “No.”

“Okay, well if you change your mind, you have my number.” Jan dramatically turned to leave. 

“Actually…”

“Yes?” Jan answered, turning around a little too quickly. Now was her chance to fix things.

“So, Ryan, my boyfriend, found out that I got really drunk at the party. He asked who got the alcohol, and I told him it was Gigi, and now he doesn’t want me to talk to her anymore.”

Jan raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Crystal questioned.

“Do you want me to sugarcoat it or do you want my honest opinion?”

“Can you sugarcoat it?”

“Actually. No. Crystal, that is the stupidest fucking shit I’ve ever heard in my goddamn life.”

Crystal flinched. “Damn, tell me how you really feel.”

“You can’t let a boy tell you what to do.”

“He’s not just a boy… he’s my boyfriend.”

“Crystal that’s even worse!” Jan exclaimed. “Never let a significant other tell you what to do.”

“I don’t want to make him mad!”

Jan looked down at the bruise on Crystal’s arm, Instinctively, Crystal covered it with her hand. 

Jan groaned. “Crystal. Listen to me. If you let your boyfriend tell you how to live your life, you’re going to miss out on a lot.”

“But I love him,” Crystal whined.

“That may be so, but I can tell that you value your friendship with Gigi. Right?”

Crystal nodded.

“Okay, well you can’t ruin that.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

An idea formed. “I have an idea! Tomorrow’s National Roller Coaster Day.”

“And…?”

“And the park is staying open after close for all the employees to ride the rides. Me, Gigi, Jaida, and Nicky are all going together. You should come with us.”

Crystal hesitated. “I was going to hang out with my boyfriend. He’s gonna get mad if I cancel.”

“Come on, Crystal. When else are you going to get to hang out in an empty park with all your friends? Besides, like I say, it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“I don’t know Jan…”

“Just think about it, okay?”

“I guess.”

“’I guess’ is better than ‘no,’” Jan said with a smile.

As she closed the bathroom door, Jan was confident that she was going to make things better.

—

The next day, the excitement of the staff of Paradise Isle was palpable. Even for the rides staff who were working the event were excited, mainly for the overtime pay. As soon as 9 P.M. rolled around, the event was officially underway. Gigi had never seen the leads and supervisors clear the store so quickly.

As she and Jan headed to the bathroom, they planned everything they were going to do.

“I promised Jackie I’d bring her a funnel cake,” Jan said as she changed into a t-shirt with her future university’s logo. “It’s the least I can do since she’s working.”

“That can definitely be arranged,” Gigi said tucking her uniform into her backpack.

“Gigi…” Jan began.

“Yeah?” Gigi slung her backpack over her shoulder.

“I uh, may have told Crystal that she could join us.”

“You what?”

“I thought that it’d be a good idea. I thought that if we were in a group it wouldn’t be weird and you could maybe make up or something.”

“Oh, shit. This is bad. Jan… Why?” Gigi groaned.

“In hindsight, this was a horrible idea.”

“You think?” Gigi’s tone was harsh, which made Jan cringe. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I deserve that. I’m sorry. I should have ran it by you.”

Gigi sighed as they left the bathroom. “It’s what it is. It’s done now. Maybe you’re right.”

Nicky texted the Gigi that she and Jaida would be waiting for her and Jan at The Landing. After scanning the area for a moment, Gigi saw her friends and waved.

“Hey, bitches!” Jaida greeted with a hug.

“What’d you two do today on your day off?” Jan asked.

Nicky and Jaida just exchanged a look.

“Ah. 10-4,” Gigi said rolling her eyes.

“Is Crystal joining us?” Nicky asked.

“I sent her a text, let me see if she responded,” Jan said as she unlocked her phone. “Damn. She said she’s going hiking with her boyfriend, and that she wishes she could have come.”

“Well she could have,” Jaida said with an eyeroll.

Gigi didn’t say anything, but internally was filled with relief.

Everyone was having an incredible time. Not having to wait for more than ten minutes for anything made the rides even more fun. After riding Sinbad’s Adventure, which was the smallest of the three roller coasters in the park, three times in a row, Jan announced. “Ladies, I need a break.”

The others muttered in agreement, and made their way to a table.

“What’s our game plan?” Jaida questioned.

“Hmm,” Nicky began. “Do you want to do all the lame rides on The Boardwalk?”

“I could take lame right about now,” Jan said. “Plus I told Jackie I’d get her funnel cake.”

“Why did she decide to work?” Nicky asked.

“She wanted doubletime pay. Plus, she claimed that once you go to an after-hours event, the novelty wears off.”

Gigi rubbed her back. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes!” Jan sprung up. “Let’s go ladies.”

Gigi had to admit, the rides that Nicky called lame were some of her favorites. They brought upon a wave of nostalgia of when she and her sister used to come to the park every summer. The way all the carnival-style rides’ signs lit up made her heart soar.

Once they did all of the rides on The Boardwalk in record time, Nicky asked. “Jan, do you feel up to going on The Genie?”

Jan nodded. “Jackie texted me and told me if I didn’t bring her a funnel cake soon, she’s going to eat her left foot.”

“We can’t let that happen!” Jaida said dramatically.

Gigi and Jan linked arms as they skipped to The Backlands. By the time they made it to the roller coaster, Gigi’s legs felt sore. She made a mental note that she’d have to make use of her university’s gym come fall.

“Baby!” Jan exclaimed as she saw Jackie at the greeter position.

“Gimme!” Jackie said as she snatched the funnel cake, taking a bite.

“Are you supposed to do that?” Nicky questioned.

“I’m your lead, how dare you speak to me like that!” Jackie said haughtily. “Nahh, literally no one gives a shit right now. I’m not even supposed to be standing here right now. Greeter isn’t a position that’s up right now.”

“Let’s ride in the front!” Jaida suggested.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jan groaned.

“We can ride in the second row,” Gigi suggested.

The front was an extra cycle’s wait, but no one cared. As they waited, Gigi looked around, and in the fifth row Gigi saw familiar red hair in familiar spacebuns. She felt her stomach drop harder than the Jinn ever did.

Gigi felt her body tense, which Jan noticed. “Gigi, what–”

“Shit,” Nicky breathed. She and Jaida weren’t well-versed in the situation, but they both knew something was up with Gigi and Crystal.

Crystal was standing next to Widow, and her expression went from excited to deer-in-the-headlights. Gigi felt her heart pound. Did Crystal really hate her that much? If she didn’t want to see her, why didn’t she just say so? Gigi had so many questions, and knew she wasn’t going get answers to any of them. Without saying a word, she through the exit gate.

“Should we…” Jaida trailed off.

“I got it,” Jan said.

“Are you sure?” Nicky questioned.

Jan nodded. On her way out, she gave Crystal the nastiest look she’d ever given in her life and said, “You really fucked up. I hope you know that.”

[mimiplaysgames]

save it for the morning after, pt. 2

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: E (Explicit) Word Count: 7,384

Summary: Terra learns to trust his body to another.

Read on AO3

A/N: HAPPY TERRAQUA DAY!!! I posted what would’ve been a one-shot last year... then came the messages asking me to expand on that. Considering what kind of writer I am, I don’t know if y’all understood what you asked for: I pick on Terra savagely - it’s dangerous to be my favorite. This piece goes to @lyssala who requested a piece that featured Character C interrupting Characters A and B during moments when they wanted to be alone, when I wanted to celebrate 100 followers on Twitter! I had to split this chapter in two cuz it got too long, so CONGRATS. You get two gifts. <33

~*~*~*~*~

Waking up is a nightmare.

Terra doesn’t remember his dream when he opens his eyes - only the sensation that he’s about to stare into a cloaked face, grinning with sharp canines and bright yellow eyes. His jaws clench badly enough that his teeth grind. His lips feel like they have been sewn shut. He can’t move anything, not his head cemented against the pillow, not his sagging arms or legs, as though the strings he’s used to move them have been cut. 

Not again. 

He takes in oxygen with short, desperate inhales through his nostrils. His fingers claw into the bed sheets as he tries to take back control.

As pleasant as this bright sunny morning, something presses on his chest, crushing his breath.

Yet, the only thing greeting him is an off-white ceiling.

Falling asleep is usually just as bad. It’s not the act of dreaming that puts him in danger - it’s the transition between consciousness and not that he fights every morning and every night. It’s the feeling of slipping out of fear that he’ll never speak again. If he didn’t have to rely on sleep to stay alive, he would just never close his eyes again. 

She shifts next to him, murmuring before quieting.

Terra thanks himself for not moaning or yelling this time. The last thing he needs is to disturb her with his fits.

Aqua rolls over, readjusting her body before nestling into her pillow. She looks so serene like this, bedsheets wrapped tightly around her hips and her breasts exposed, creamy and still.

It’s bright for an early morning - the snow outside reflects the sunlight, painting the entire room in a brilliant glow that illuminates the entire room, including just how pink her nipples really are.

She’s like a mermaid. Precious and rare, something he doesn’t deserve, and he’s the stupidest, luckiest bastard in this world, who has done absolutely nothing to have her in bed with him.

He’s more unworthy than that - he’s in her bed.

Terra lets go of the sheet finger by finger, his breath eventually losing its deathgrip over his throat and settling still, letting his muscles relax and giving his shoulders back some control. Rolling over to his side to watch her, he leans on an elbow. The butterflies in his stomach flurry worse than ever, more excitable than even last night.

Last night… Wow. He can’t believe it all happened. Lying together undressed, touching her, sharing kisses that he dreamt of for years, feeling her on his skin, being inside her, how they exchanged breaths to keep going… now she’s sleeping soundly like she’s in the safest place in the world.

She’s told him before that she has the worst trouble sleeping, but last night, she fell under quite quickly in his arms, taking a spot in the crook of his neck. He’s glad he could help her in any way.

The Realm of Darkness has done an impressive job in preserving her. While Aqua doesn’t smile like she used to, her face is still everything he remembers. Face untouched by marks or lines. Lips pillowy and hair the same color. For her, sleep is peace, very much like the way she used to look when she napped on top of her open books in the library, halfway through an anxious night studying.

She’s been given a second chance at life - they all have, let’s be honest. A rare grace that most will never see. People grow old, they separate from their loved ones, they die. Here two of them rest in a soft bed, keeping their youth, grasping at something like childhood dreams and excitement about their future - but the truth is they’ll never have it again. He’s sorry about that.

And Aqua, she does have scars even if they don’t live on her face. There are scruffs crisscrossing down her arms, two on her collarbone - mostly unnoticeable to anyone who doesn’t know their history. There is one, faded and white on her bicep, that he inflicted on her one nasty afternoon when he wanted to prove that his brand new Keyblade was stronger than hers.

He paid for that afternoon with a severe lecture and a fifty-page essay.

Then there are others - nastier, some braided, others like craters. One on her ribcage right under her breast that curls and splays. There’s a slash across her entire back, and he’s scared of asking where it came from.

Really scared.

Of course, he has to account for all the scars he can’t see: the ones that make her flinch at night, like Ven walking in on her unannounced, taking her by surprise.

She pays for her second chance at life in plenty of ways.

Despite it all, she’s beautiful. She has always been. And when she’s gray and cranky, she still will be.

Her nose wrinkles and she sniffs - some of her hair strands have fallen in front of her face, tickling her.

When he takes the opportunity to brush her hair - gently, gently - off of her face, Terra lingers in the feeling of silk strands as he collects them behind her ear. He’s always wanted to do this. 

Aqua hums, her arms stretching outward. Her chest arches with breath. He jerks his hand away, hoping against hope that he didn’t ruin it.

“Sorry,” he whispers, almost shushing her back to slumber.

Wiggling her eyelids open, the first thing she notices is him. Aqua smirks and immediately covers her mouth with her hand to giggle. 

So seeing him struck memories of last night for her, too.

“Good morning,” he says, trying to sound cocky but his voice is rougher than he wants. 

She brings the bed sheet up to her nose. Her cheeks are as red as a tomato. This isn’t really her usual self, Aqua has always had too much dignity for giggling. But he likes this sudden melting of her defenses - a flustered Aqua is a cute Aqua. 

“Good morning,” she says, almost like she’s about to ask what he’s doing there. Despite covering herself, her smile reaches her eyes, and every time she glances at him, she beams even more.

“Looks like you’ve slept well,” he says with a distinct flavor, like he’s witnessing a scandal.

She narrows her eyes. “What are you insinuating?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat. “You’re…” Naked. I’m naked. “The proof is under the sheets.”

Aqua composes herself, lowering the sheet to her collarbone, and confidently calms her nerves, her eyes whittling away all that childlike excitement from earlier.

But he knows she knows what he’s talking about, though there’s not a hint of shame in her eyes either. She rolls over to meet him face to face.

“I did sleep well,” she says softly, inching closer, looking up at him.

Her intense blue eyes glimmer, especially in sunlight. Drinking in the sight before her, they find solace somewhere on Terra, even though he doesn’t have the capability to give it to her. 

Terra’s heart thumps and it’s the loudest thing in the room. His fingers strum the surface of the bed, so close to her face. He could tap her nose and make her laugh. Cup her cheek and let her sigh. Stroke her jaw and finally embrace her.

These are all just fantasies, but he indulges in them. Aqua’s quicker to act. She lifts her head up, closing the gap and taking his lips onto hers.

While the ones they had last night were hungry, maybe even desperate, this one is patient, feeling him slowly, taking him in different angles, exploring the sorts of ways she can invite his tongue to do more. 

She gathers her arms around his neck, pulling him as she falls back. When she skates her hands over his shoulders - his biceps and back up to his pecs - his skin electrifies, shooting goose flesh down his spine. 

Aqua lets one hand go to fuss with the sheets wrapped around her chest, letting nothing stand between his bare skin and her creamy softness. 

The contact shocks him and he has to breathe deeper, taking it in like he’s drowning. It helps him feel her all the more.

More. Everything in his twitching groin needs more.

Gripping her waist in a moment of panic - the kind where he’d never feel her again if they let go - Aqua responds by pushing with her weight, rolling him onto his back, pulling them together with her hands on his jaw, her messy kisses pulling hard on his lips (they still need to practice). 

Terra in the meantime glides his fingers up and down her back. Her scar is as long as the list of consequences that could all be traced back to his mistakes. Longer than that - as long as a trail that would lead out the bedroom.

The one under her breast splays like a mess of bare branches in the dead of winter, and he holds his palm there firmly, like he’s trying to keep them from ripping more.

How does he tell her with anything but words that he didn’t quite understand the extent of pain, of how far it could go, until he was possessed? 

Is there such a thing as a hug comforting enough or a held hand loving enough to measure that? 

His hands go to her hips, and squeeze what plumpness she has. He lets her make the decision to rock against his pelvis. Only then does he apply the pressure, make her pant against him.

Terra becomes more impatient, and he kneads her with both hands, starting with her ass before climbing up, taking notice of how her nipples harden under his palms.

The kiss breaks with her smile. 

“What?” 

Aqua is already red from the flush, but now she’s worse for wear and she’s trying to hide it. “Your hands are so big.”

“They are?” He doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Her breasts fit his palms just fine, supple and round. Letting one go, he tests the size by comparing it to her face; it covers everything, from his wrist on her chin to the fingers digging into her hairline, his palm taking up the entire space across her cheeks that he can only see dashes of her eyebrows. “They are.”

She chuckles into his hand, giving it a quick peck before caressing it. Her breath composes itself, and her smile is content. Her gaze is full of light, welcoming him in, and it makes him feel protected. Safe enough to surrender. Maybe even forgiven. She’s about to come back down, and they can continue. He can let her shine on him, let himself go and forget all about this horrible morning-

A knock on the door. “Aqua?”

Aqua sits straight up. Immediately clamps down on Terra’s mouth with her hand. 

Everything suddenly… slams to a stop, and Terra’s erection writhes, begging. 

Worst timing, Ven. 

“Y-yes?” Aqua calls.

Terra stares at her with bulging eyes. Please don’t leave me like this.

She smirks.

“Terra’s not in his room,” Ven says through the door. “And I’m hungry.”

“Okay-”

Terra bucks up against her, gnawing at her toned thigh. It makes her gasp and wrestle with a smile.

“I’ll be right out, Ven,” she says, trying so hard not to choke on a laugh. She gives Terra a sympathetic smile, and quickly, silently pecks his lips before peeling off of him and pulling him out of bed.

His sternum grows stones and they all sink to his stomach. 

Pushing him into her bathroom, she scrambles to pick up all of his items of clothing: his pants, shirt, briefs… is that everything? Yes. She throws them in a heap against his body before quietly turning the knob and closing it.

Her bathroom is chillier than the bedroom, and Terra rests his back against her closed door, grimacing.

Rustling behind him - she hurries to get dressed, calling out a You can come in, Ven, before turning her attention to her bed sheets. 

“Sorry,” she says as footsteps approach her.

Terra keeps his breath steady and inaudible - but it’s so hard. Really. He’s still ready to go, the throbbing in his groin becoming agonizing. It tingles like an interrupted sneeze - worse than that, like a desperate itch with an uncomfortable squeeze - and he pushes and stretches his shaft to make it uncomfortable, just so it would calm down. 

It doesn’t calm down. Why.

“I overslept,” Aqua continues.

Without a pause, Ven says, “So you must have really slept well, that’s great news!”

Terra swallows a groan.

Aqua rustles some more. He imagines she’s nodding, trying to find the right words. “It does feel good.”

“Do you know where Terra is?” the twerp says.

Terra will tell him where Terra is. Terra flips the shower on, only the cold knob. His erection needs it.

There’s an uncomfortable pause from the other side of the door, and Aqua has stopped making her bed.

“Is that him using your shower?” Ven asks.

“His isn’t working.” She sounds so confident.

There’s another pause - something about it, maybe the way Aqua finishes her words so trepidly, that makes the silence seem longer even though it isn’t.

“It smells weird in here,” Ven says, slowly.

“Terra is filthy,” Aqua says, like it’s the most obvious answer. “Ven, when I finish getting ready, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Terra is sure she’s probably throwing daggers with her eyes through the door and he grins at the thought. Most of his pranks are usually thought-out and have some figment of imagination, but this has to be his new favorite. 

Cold water stabs at his skin - it’s terrible enough to make him forget every mood he’s experienced since waking up. He picks up her lavender bar of soap. It smells so different than on her skin, and it invigorates all of his senses. He never thought he’d get the chance to. But here he is, in her shower, covered by a turquoise curtain and seeing how neatly her toiletries line up. 

Ven must have left by now, because Aqua knocks on the door, telling him where she’ll be… after breakfast they’ll all be outside to shovel snow from the lower windows and pathways… have a snow fight, that will be fun… and maybe she’ll see him later? There’s hope in her voice, shyness even. 

~*~*~*~*~

Outside, he can’t help but stare at the way the sun gleams off of the snow. He has to shield his eyes from the way it blinds him, and yet it makes him grin from ear to ear. 

Consider how much better it is than a decade of nothingness.

They were absolutely buried last night, but they all survived.

Snow blocks the front and back entrances of the castle, tall enough to reach Terra’s hips. The trees all sag from the weight, and the fields have hills on them now that don’t exist in the spring. 

What a chore though - his friends don’t understand what it takes out of him anymore, now that he’s back in a body he’s lost touch with for years (to the point that he used to forget he ever had one). Shoveling is a skill that demands all the power in his biceps and triceps, his shoulders, his rhomboids, all the way down to the lower back, straining to the point that it feels like a heavy ball is chained into his skin, pulling down. 

At the same time, he sweats profusely underneath all those layers, like he’s trapped in an oven, baking for two hours past the point of well-burnt. It makes him want to strip naked and run down the woods. 

If Aqua and Ven are enjoying the cold in their faces from the exposure, or finding comfort in the heat of their snug clothes… they’re lucky because they can’t compare. They don’t feel as strongly as he does.

Terra hunches over the terrace, staring at the snow gathered along the stone railing. 

He’s on fire.

Freeing his fingers from his gloves and throwing his knit hat off, Terra plants his bare hands into the snow. It stings. Then it burns in a different way, quick to sear. 

“Doesn’t that hurt, Terra?” he hears Ven ask, skipping over to him.

Terra groans. It’s too much - too much cold, too much heat, yes, even from this morning, lingering and gnawing and asking for release… But he can’t think about that or Aqua right now, it will make it worse. It’s all Ven’s fault.

“It’s actually nice,” he mutters, grabbing fistfuls, nearly wanting to plant his face into it. 

“I guess…” Ven means well. He doesn’t understand what it feels like to be a maniac (his words, not Terra’s). “Making a snowman?”

Terra continues to collect the snow into a ball - it’s massive now, definitely fit for a base.

He grins, and the sight of it strikes nervousness into his best friend.

“What are you-”

Whump.

Ven pummels backward, slammed in the face by a mound of snow. It was so large and heavy that Terra had to carry it in both hands, and it buries Ven when he lands.

Spitting snow out of his mouth, Ven’s nose is now red from the cold. “That’s not fair, we aren’t supposed to have a snowball fight yet!”

Not fair was the interruption this morning.

“Better now than never,” Terra says, lightly stomping the ground with his foot. The earth beneath layers of frozen water hears his call. It vibrates, radiating upward, and a wave of snow bursts outward and covers Ven from head to toe.

“You’re crazy!”

Ven crawls out of his frigid entrapment, and Terra prepares another massive heap. Something about this is very gratifying. He should pick on Ven more often. 

“Heads up!” Ven yells.

A tiny snowball that Ven grabbed in a second - inconsequential, honestly, in comparison to the boulder Terra has now - strikes Terra on the neck.

It’s just the thing to take the beast down.

Snow runs down his inner coat, like a million needles pricking all those sore muscles that got a beating earlier from shoveling. They tense up until they’re hard as bone. It’s cold. Shit.

Terra falls on his knees, beating his shoulder to warm it up as much as possible, but it only gives the snow momentum to scuffle into his pants.

“Aaaaaaaaand,” Ven boasts, “he’s down.”

Terra staggers, the snow burning his hip and trickling down his thigh. He manages to stay on his feet, his skin getting numb. Then he lunges forward.

Ven shrieks and laughs, taking off, running as fast as he can from big, bad Terra. He’s much faster than either of them, yet they sometimes forget. 

Terra underestimates Ven all the time, who is now disappearing into a thicket, but he doesn’t care. Running pumps blood into the right head. The wind brushes through his hair and it chills him all the more, overwhelming with the smell of fresh air, the sting of the light reverberating off of the whiteness, the unresolved frustration, the bead of sweat which has frozen itself on his forehead.

But more than the fact that Terra feels too much is that he’s tired. Sprinting can only get him so far (or so near, compared to how fit he used to be before the fall). He’s quick to lose stamina, and his foot sinks deep into a pot of loose snow. He trips, landing face first. 

It’s cold and it burns, but Terra is relieved from all other sensations just the same.

~*~*~*~*~

Now he can’t shake off the shivers.

Aqua sets a hearth ablaze in the fireplace, a haven within the library on the first floor, close to the doorway which would eventually lead to the dining room. Everything about the bottom floor is situated like a home fit for a family. It’s expansive, where all the hallways interconnect so no one can get lost. It’s where all the pleasant memories live. 

This isn’t the place where they had their first kiss, though. Nothing on the first floor can hide. 

Terra rests on the lounge chair, a massive thing that swallows anyone smaller than him in a dark forest green. It looks black now that the sun has dipped behind the mountains so early today.

It’s a deep enough color to hide all the torture that three rambunctious children have whipped on the poor thing. Terra has a faint memory of where the stains might be, but he can’t find any.

The fire isn’t enough. Terra has an ocean blue blanket to boot, wrapped around his shoulders. Aqua’s. She’s always been the neatest of the three, so he can’t imagine this would have any evidence of foul play.

The door behind him creaks and he hears soft, bare footsteps approaching him. Unlike her, sound doesn’t really make him nervous. 

But having her near him does. Always has, and maybe always will. 

“Doing better?” She puts a warm hand on his forehead for the fifth time that evening to check for a fever. She was the one to find him slumped and groggy in the snow outside. Of course. “You’re still cold,” she mumbles.

At her touch, his heart beats obnoxiously for his attention, like a shrill child being purposefully ignored. Look, look, she’s touching us!

He groans. 

“No, you’re not okay?”

“I am,” he says. “I just hate how I’m feeling.” 

Aqua grins, taking a seat on his armrest, bringing one bare leg to her chest. She’s wearing shorts, and Terra takes a quick glance over. A baggy sweater covers most of her body, and his heart is now thrashing, knowing exactly what it looks like underneath. 

But it’s her eyes that hold him still.

“You’ll get used to it,” she reassures him, nodding into her knee.

That’s usually her answer, and she’s right: the day he came back, the minty taste of mouthwash burned a hole through his jaw, and he had yelled from the pounding in his ears. You’ll get used to it. 

Now, it just gives him a tense headache. See? 

It’s her confidence that he finds so comforting - like she knows all these hyper-feelings will sort themselves out if he gives it another day (or week, or month). After all, she has said before, he’s been out of commission for so long.

Terra wonders if she’s ever said that to herself, night after night in the Realm of Darkness. It’s okay to be alone right now, I’ll get used to it. 

Aqua does such a fantastic job holding it together, even late in the night, when he almost expects her break. She never does. How does she do that?

Love is such a strong word to use, but it’s the truth. 

Terra knew it as a child. Aqua had begged him to play a tea party with her, under very specific conditions: she was the lady knight and he was the princess. She made him wear an apron and a paper tiara to play the part. As much as he begrudged the idea, the moment she told him he was holding the teacup wrong, he knew - he was going to marry her. 

Adults would say that children wouldn’t know any better, but child-Terra knew his heart, and he knew it would never change.

He loves her now, as vibrant as the forest becomes the moment the rain hits. One day, he’ll get used to the feeling and won’t feel the need to cry at the thought.

He thinks about telling her what his last thoughts were, right at the moment he lost it all: her cerulean eyes. How there is the faintest sliver of amethyst in them if they reflect off the sun at just the right angle if he was close enough to see, like a secret jewel nestled in the shallow water of a beach...

“You’re right, I will,” he mutters.

“No more knocking yourself out in the wild?” She chuckles. “Please don’t worry me like that again.”

“I won’t, I’m sorry.”

She hums. “It’s nothing to be sorry about.”

There’s a lot to be sorry for. 

Terra’s eyes fall for just a second. He can’t kick the habit of struggling with his own existence sometimes, but she finds reason after reason inside that insane mind of hers to smile when she looks at him. She forgives him way too many times, and it makes that small girl who barked at him for sipping his tea too loudly at a dainty party seem so distant.

Aqua brushes the tips of her fingers on his knuckles, leaning forward. “I’m…” Stopping herself, she searches the carpet for something to say, anxiety creeping into her face. Try as she might to say more, she can’t bring herself to. She’s chipping. 

Terra turns his palm over to take her hand in his. She’s the one to thread their fingers together.

He doesn’t know why everything knots in his throat either, too apprehensive to come out. Love is a strong word to say after years apart. He’ll let her say it first, lest he scares her more.

If she ever does. Though he’s not scared of it himself. 

The sound of footsteps approach from the hallway, and Aqua releases him before straightening herself out.

Terra’s heart sinks at the silence that crashed between them, uninvited. It drowns when it gets to his stomach, but it will breathe eventually. 

“Chicken soup for the big loser,” Ven announces, rolling a cart with a boiling pot behind him. There’s a stack with three bowls, and spoons. 

Terra and Aqua don’t say anything back, readjusting their posture and pretending that nothing has occurred this moment, this day, or last night. Terra brings his fingers - the ones she held - to his lips. They’ve made contact for so little that he can’t smell her scent on them, but her warmth lingers.

Ven’s about to tease some more when he glances at each of them. “Am I… interrupting something?”

“Not at all, Ven,” Aqua says sweetly, composed. She approaches his work, all the pieces that have crumbled away coming back to her. “It smells delicious.”

Ven tosses a pout at Terra, who’s uncharacteristically quiet in the vicinity of savory food, but Terra gives back a reassuring smile. It’s dimmer than he wants it to be, and Ven’s smart enough to notice it, but he says nothing. 

The rest of the evening passes with pleasant conversations, as it goes:

They have never found a good enough reason to talk about anything else. Why bring the darkness back inside when they make a habit of lighting all the lamps at night?

In every case when one of them is ready to talk, they lock up. Swallow. Cough. Next question.

Pleasantness has its tremendous advantages, as it reminds them the worth of being alive: the warmth of drinking this wonderful soup together, the joy of sharing a joke, the thrill of panicking over the thought that Ven could catch Terra and Aqua in the middle of a compromising position. 

They belong together, the three of them. Wayfinders were specifically made for that pact, and that’s something Terra would never trade anything for... he just wants something more from Aqua, and that shouldn’t break the delicate balance between the three. It shouldn’t, and maybe he’s still naive to think that way.

When the evening sweeps into night, Terra falls into a slightly different dance with Aqua. Lingering looks across the hall, right over Ven’s head, followed by nervous chuckles, with the grand finale of never whispering about what they would do before bed (if they’re going to bed together at all).

And when Ven finally retires to sleep, it’s just the two of them, with nothing left except to improvise. 

Nothing in their timid conversations gives Terra the right opening to bring the subject up. 

He’s ready to expect it’s just him and his hand tonight when Aqua holds his wrist to keep him from returning to his room alone. 

“Do you want to…” Aqua hushes. She brings her hand up to brush her hair out of her face but it stops right before contact, like she’s lost the way. “Um…”

“Sleep with you?” Terra blurts out.

A shocked grin stretches across her face.

He stammers, running a hand through his hair.

There’s nothing wrong with sleeping with her - in fact, the night they came home, they all slept in the same bed, just so they didn’t have to be separated.

Terra’s being dumb - of course sleeping has a different connotation now, even between best friends. Why is it so awkward to bring it up in conversation? It was so much easier this morning when they woke up naked and could do what was natural from there.

Leaning on her door frame, bringing himself closer to her body, Terra braves what’s really on his mind. 

“I- I’ve been thinking about it all day… I want to kiss you again.”

Aqua considers him for a moment. She stands on her toes and brings her mouth to his for a small peck, for a second, for a third, longer one. 

She eyes Ven’s closed bedroom door nervously - it’d be a hell of an explanation if he catches them now. 

So Terra steps into her bedroom, barely illuminated by a single desk lamp that’s living its final days, and she closes it behind him. 

Whipping around, Aqua throws her arms around Terra’s neck, aching for a fourth kiss and so many more that neither of them can keep count. Terra squeezes her waist to his body, bending over to meld her to him while she digs into his hair.

Somehow, holding her this closely isn’t close enough. 

When Terra massages the small of her back, it rustles her sweater so that his fingers make contact with her skin. 

Aqua takes this as her cue, tugging at his shirt. She breaks contact (for an excruciating second) to pull it over his head and he responds in kind by undressing her sweater and tossing it. 

With her bare, soft, springy breasts against his chest, he tastes her lips, her tongue… They have to pant for breath in between but they can’t take the hint to pause. And yet - 

They still aren’t close enough.

Terra picks her up by her thighs, wrapping her legs around his hips to carry her. She buries her face in his shoulder to muffle a laugh, and she yelps when they fall together, bouncing on her bed.

With her head against her mattress, he can now kiss her deeper. His pajamas are so thin he can feel her pelvis in every way when he thrusts and he’s dying to take them off but he doesn’t want to part from her mouth either.

They’re running fast, desperate to finish what they couldn’t from this morning, and he doesn’t know what he should do next - if he should be focusing on some area on her body, or if she’d like him to do something and he’s not understanding what she needs. 

So Terra slows down, savoring her bottom lip, bringing the whirlwind to a breeze, letting them both breathe easier. 

He grazes her jawline and she trembles when he gets to her ear, lingering at a spot he discovers really makes her shiver. She squirms like she finds his lack of speed unbearable, grinding her hips up onto his. He groans. 

She still makes a point to whisper. “On your back.”

So bossy. Terra stops to snort. “Those are fighting words.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You first,” he says, his voice rough.

“I mean it.” 

Aqua’s hands push against his shoulders, massaging every curve in his pecs, and her legs wrap around his as she makes the first attempt to roll him over.

“Terra.” Her breaths deepen when he stays in place.

“I insist.” 

He isn’t going to let her make him the focus of all her attention just yet - and they both know she’s always lost at wrestling with him. 

She tries her game anyway, lifting herself to reunite his lips with hers while they sit up.

Both options are tempting. Terra can surrender to her, melt under her touch so she can have her way, and let her think she’s won. That’s a nice fantasy… but he doesn’t like losing either.

He laughs into her smile, grabbing her wrists and bringing them over her head. He holds them together in between the thick fingers of one giant hand, and brings her weight down with his. He’s won, easily.

Then he takes his other hand to brush his fingers across one nipple, from top to bottom, while his lips find a good spot on her neck that makes her whimper. She rocks her hips with his, coaxing him into a slow, intoxicating rhythm. Her shorts are also thin, and she’s wet through the fabric. It sets him on fire, sparking from his pelvis and burning up to his chest. It’s so hard to resist her. 

“What are you doing,” he murmurs, and he feels her giggle from underneath her pulse. 

“Playing a strategy.” She gasps and tenses from his nibbling. “I think I’m winning.”

Traveling down her collarbone, Terra finds himself at her breasts, taking his first taste for the night while rolling circles on the other, eliciting a moan from her - one she keeps stifled, so she’s not too loud.

“Not yet,” he says.

“Give it time,” she says, bringing one leg to hook around Terra’s hips.

Terra growls into her skin. She’s making it difficult.

She’s winning.

“Dammit, Aqua,” he whispers into her chest before standing up, taking her shorts and panties with him before fumbling with his pants. 

Pleased with herself, Aqua rises to meet him, a hand snaking down his abdomen, playing with the tuft of hair before going lower. 

He’s weak when she strokes him, when she grabs him, when she rubs the entire length, twisting her hold. She’s a quick study, and the gooseflesh crawling all over his back slips him into a stupor. He tumbles over the bed. His pants bind him by the knees still, but they’re forgotten. 

Straddling him, Aqua settles. Slowly, too - she’s adjusting herself to him before taking him fully, and if he didn’t know any better, it feels like the sweetest, sickest comeback for teasing her so bad.

A shiver strikes through his spine when he gets warm and she gets tight. He has to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning out loud. 

Meanwhile, Aqua experiments with her movement, her angles, her speed, whether she should rock her hips back and forth. She looks good on top of him, naked and bouncing and enjoying herself, running her palms across his carved abs, feeling the ripples where his skin dips. Something about the way she leans her head back sends Terra on a high. 

His hands feel everything. He measures how her waist curves inward before following the trail out to her hips. The muscles on her thighs buck with every thrust she makes.

It doesn’t matter how she looks: with or without clothes, in bright light or in poor light, even with shadows chiseling her amazing form, none of it does her any justice. 

She’s beautiful. He’s lucky. 

The more she moves, the more he comes closer to that brink, and he’s too drunk to find the words to tell her. The best he can do is moan her name, and when she gently shushes him, it turns him on even more.

But then his heart beats too hard. It stings as sharp as a cut.

The monster with the sharp canines smiles. Snaps its jaws.

The brink will make him fall over (and never get back up again). He’ll die. No. He’ll lose control. Go to sleep. Lose her forever, all over again. 

Terra grips her hips and lifts her off of him. “No no no no,” he says, lurching up, leaning over the edge of the bed. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“Terra?”

He shudders from the heat rising to the top of his head. His hands tremble violently, and he rubs the pads of his fingers against his palms to make sure he can still feel. Gritting his teeth together, Terra takes all he has to stop himself from yelling - no need for Ven to spring out of bed and burst in here to save the day - and the effort withers Terra to exhaustion. 

Aqua holds the back of his hand - very gently, brushing her fingers first to test if he’d have a strong reaction. He realizes that he never responded to her. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Terra holds her face, stroking the worries off of her cheek with his thumb. “You were,” he swallows. Even in such dim light, her eyes keep their rich brightness. “You’re perfect.”

She doesn’t look like she believes him. A dark thought trickles in his mind, and suddenly he can’t look at her anymore - she must be so disappointed with his awful performance.

“I’m just a basket case, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t say that.” She gifts him the most generous smile, one he doesn’t understand. But that’s Aqua, never asking for something in return. 

She hugs him warmly, giving his shoulders a steady hold as if to keep him up. 

Despite how big of a man Terra is, now he is fragile, wilting into her strength. He wants to be more like her, to keep himself together. Silent tears stroll down his cheeks until they land on her bare shoulders and continue on their way.

With his palm, Terra rubs their existence off of her skin. 

A much-needed chill comes down his spine - she’s cooling him off with her magic, letting the Blizzard gently wisp off of her fingers. 

“Can you talk about it?” Letting him go, Aqua throws her feet over the edge of the bed to join him, side by side. 

Terra cannot. He stares at his knees, throwing glances at her to create words out of thin air. 

Aqua threads her hand under his arm to interlace their fingers together, resting them on his thigh. Her hand is so small in comparison, but in Terra’s opinion, it’s a perfect fit. 

“I think I have an idea of what happened,” she says when she’s waited long enough. “Even when we spar, you don’t let yourself go all the way.”

Feeling like he’s finally seen, Terra unravels. “What if I lose it and go crazy? What if I hurt you?”

She eyes him for a moment. At first she’s full of concern, but she’s the type that when she faces anything that intimidates her, she’ll find a reason to stay brave. “Then I retaliate. I’m good at that.”

It sounds like such a simple and logical answer that Terra can’t help but feel silly for never considering that she’s stronger than he is. 

Yet there’s plenty to worry about - she deserves a better lover that wouldn’t have fits in the worst of times, or threaten to kill her in the best.

“I know,” she continues when he says nothing. “It’s weird to have good things.”

Terra huffs. Drawing his voice low, he says, “Aren’t we supposed to tell ourselves that we deserve them?” She shifts uncomfortably against his arm, and he chuckles cynically. “Maybe we can hope.”

“No,” she drawls, rubbing circles on his knuckles with her thumb. “Hoping is dangerous.”

The scar on his chest is rough under the touch of his palm. Those have been the truest words he’s heard in years, and they worry him. If they continue to try again, he’ll continue to dissatisfy her, with no guarantee he could give her what she wants. 

“It feels like,” he says, “willingly jumping off a mountain.”

Aqua leans her head on his shoulder, watching the stillness of her carpet with him. It’s as dark as the deep sea. 

“It does. We’re supposed to stay optimistic, and the letdown destroys us until it numbs. And then there’s nothing left.”

“And then there’s nothing left,” Terra whispers back.

“Wishing is a little safer.” He feels her smile into his bicep. 

“That’s more like willingly drowning yourself.”

“Taking one swallow isn’t too bad by comparison,” she says, squeezing his hand harder. Her cheek trembles, and her eyes dart back and forth across the room. She’s chipping again. “Can I make one wish?”

“Of course.”

It takes quite a moment before she speaks again, and all he hears is her ragged breathing. It almost sounds like she’s about to cry, but she doesn’t. She’s a miracle.

“I wish for a good night’s sleep. I wish you’d stay in bed with me. I wish for more time with you, and… I wish you’d come back tomorrow night. Or maybe I could go to your room. Either way, I don’t want us to stop.”

Since he’s been expecting her to wish him away, Terra chokes on a sob. He wants the same, and he wants to say it, and he wants to kiss her again but he’s shocked. If he slips one word, he’ll fall apart and she’ll have to carry him all over again.  

He squeezes her hand back, and all the tears wanting to pour out of his eyes find their place in the strength of his grip, and they stay dry. 

As though she understands what he’s not saying, she smiles. “It’s a journey, just like everything else, right? I think there’s every reason to step off that cliff, and I want to be there with you when we do.”

Terra sits with her words, comfortable in the quiet. It’s not like they had a teacher to coax them in the right direction about the art of tumbling in bed. In the privacy of his mind, he can pretend the reason she’s willing to be patient is because she loves him, too. 

“I needed to hear that,” he says, his pajamas slipping off of his ankles. He’s completely exposed but his skin is just the outer shell. The fact his soul has been heard is the most naked he’s ever been. “I’m impressed.” 

Aqua holds her breath. “You’re impressed? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He stifles his snickering but it only makes it harder not to laugh. 

“Nevermind, don’t answer that,” she says, giving him a playful shove. “I know I put my foot in my mouth, sometimes.” 

“Sometimes.” 

“Which means I’m sensible other times.” She holds up a finger to make a point.

Terra lifts the hand he’s holding and kisses the back of it. She’s still so much like the girl who glared at him when he slurped his tea. “Whatever you say, I’ll play along.”

She shoves him harder and finds herself in his clutches, under threat of unbearable tickling. She locks her laughter up so hard that it slips out in squeaks. Without her magic, she’s completely futile against his ferociously giant hands. She admits defeat when they fall on their backs. 

Now they rest, and she’s finally close enough, their bodies locking warmth in between.

They whisper good night through soft, innocent kisses. Aqua finds refuge on his shoulder while her arms go limp on his thick waist, one leg tucked in between his, burrowing her body into his. Every time she drifts in and out and remembers that he’s with her, she inches closer.

How she wants to be near him this much blows his mind. He tells himself he’ll get used to it. 

Her breathing slows as he rubs circles on her back, and soon enough, she’s asleep, like she knows nothing except a world without nightmares or shadows. 

It’s been a long time since he’s thought about when they first started sparring - how they paused before striking, how they confused a cue for another and hit each other when they weren’t supposed to, how they bickered and teased when the course of the game adjusted to their skill level. They didn’t know what they were doing then.

Last night, she gave him the benefit of the doubt, too, telling him all they need is practice. 

Now’s the perfect time than ever - Terra whispers into her hair until he finds it easier to say, knowing she won’t hear him until he’s ready to face her.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: I SWEAR this will end happily. I swear it. To be continued.

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter X

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Coercion. Crazy people, being crazy. Dark thoughts.

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

Chapter X

I'm usually pretty excited when Ivar and I start making plans to go out, but there's something about this that's making me nervous.  Normally, after we find a location, we hang out somewhere and let whatever happens, happen. We don't make definite plans and we damn sure don’t pre-select our guests. We just leave the house and let the rest fall into place.

But this? This is too methodical. There's way too much planning and strategy involved.  It almost feels sinister.

He's given me a lot to think about, sitting here all alone. By the time he resurfaces from the basement, I now have a thousand more questions and even more reservations. Even though we've been over it at least a dozen times, I still don't totally get it.  

If I’m being honest, I like that spur of the moment feeling we have when we're scouting.  The most forethought we've ever given to any night is where we're going to the deed. Once we find cool people to hang out with and get them back to our place, the sky's the limit. But today, he actually wants to make a plan? 

What the hell?  When did this become so involved? This is supposed to be a hobby, just something to do for fun.  Ives is turning this into a full-time job.

I don't even wait for him to sit back down before I feel my lips moving. "But there are two of them. How are supposed to get both of them to come?" I need him to explain this to me like I'm a six-year-old because it's not sinking in.  Why does this make so much sense to him?  I know having to constantly explain it to me has to be getting on his nerves. But, if it is, he hasn't said anything, yet.  He's still being so patient with me.

His large hand gently cups mine and he squeezes it for added assurance. "Serk-ky. You trust me, right?" He never needs to ask that question. I trust Ivar with my life. Hell, I trust him more than I trust myself. Watching me nod, his face softens. "This will work."

"But what about the choice? We always give them a choice." I don't mean to rain on his parade, but we follow this set of unspoken rules: we don't go out partying without each other and we don't force anybody to do anything they don't want to do. That's why this feels like coercion. Of course, I can't tell him that. He'll say that I've been watching too much TV and that real life doesn't work that way. Of course, he's right...he's always right.  

I'm just being paranoid, as usual.  

Ivar considers my question as he stands. He's not angry, in fact, he seems pleased. "Come here." I don't ask him why instead I join him at the back door and lookout. "You see that?"

I look out at another warm Fall day, and my eyes land on pure beauty. All she's doing is watering her lawn, but there's something about the way she does it that has me transfixed.  I can feel myself starting to salivate and I have to run my hand over my mouth stop myself from visibly drooling.

"She's the one. Just look at her." There is grace in the way she flings her hair over her shoulder. Even as she slips her feet back into her UGG slippers, leaving only her heels and that ankle bracelet visible to me, I have to restrain myself from barging out of that door and taking her. "Look at how she holds the water hose. So delicately, so gently. You see the water around her ankles? Notice how each droplet slowly slides down her foot, how it caresses her skin? That could be sweat. That could be your sweat dripping down her legs. You wanna see that don't you?"

Why was I uneasy about this plan? This idea is seeming better and better all the time.  I think I get it now, Ivar just pointed out to me what my real motivation should be. I can't believe I was willing to forgo this beautiful creature because I suddenly got cold feet. Variety is the spice of life, right?  It's okay to switch up a plan every once in a while, especially if she's going to be my payoff. 

I can't take my eyes off of her. I want her. "I wonder what she smells like."

"Fear." Just the feeling of Ivar's breath on my neck as he whispers to me makes me groan. God. Do we have to wait? Why can't we just invite her over now? "And imagine what she tastes like."

It's almost too much to take. This woman is the most sensual thing I've ever laid eyes on. I could devour her right now, in broad daylight, and not think twice about it. Before I realize it, one of his hands is on mine and his grip is pulling it off of the door handle. His other arm is around my waist and I can feel him tightening his hold around me. Never before has the need been this severe. If he hadn't been here, I would have gone outside. 

Just that quickly, I lost control.

The sound of my moaning gets her attention and suddenly the spray from the hose stops. She's looking at us. Those big, bright eyes are fixed right on me and she smiles. She wants me, just as much as I want her. Her smile makes me smile. I know I must look like an idiot standing in the doorway grinning at this beautiful ball of innocence, but I'm entranced.

As soon as I see her hand come up in a wave, I don't know what to do. They always make contact with Ivar first, not with me, but from his position behind me, I don't think she can see him. What the fuck am I supposed to do?  

Out of instinct, I look over at him for help. I'm not good with personal interactions with them. I can't talk to them until they're tied up and filled with fear. Until I have the upper hand, the ones I need, scare the shit out of me. "What do I do?" I try to keep my lips as still as possible as I ask him the stupidest question on earth.

There's mirth in his voice, but his hand gently kneads the back of my neck to calm me. "Wave back."  His voice is gentle and low as he coaxes me through this extremely awkward interaction.  

Why didn't I think of that? God, this fucking stupid. But with that simple gesture, she sits the hose on the grass and walks across her lawn to ours. Now standing at the bottom of our stairs, she looks up at me and I swear my breath catches in my throat.  "Hi,"  I can't believe she spoke. Her voice is beautiful. Even if she screamed I wouldn't mind, it's so angelic.

I can feel Ivar's hand tightening around the back of my neck, silently encouraging me to speak to her. "Hey." I don't have a problem talking to Thora or my brother, for that matter, but everybody else? I'm not good at it, like he is. This is why he's the front-man. This is why he makes the introductions because he's charismatic. I'm awkward. I'm nervous.  I'm all unsure of myself. Hell, I'd be scared of me.

"Were the cookies from you?" She places one foot on the bottom step and rests her weight on her opposite leg. Her yoga pants accentuate her toned legs as she balances her weight on that leg.

Shaking my head, I cut my eyes to Ivar to get some direction. "Tell her, yes." My Cyrano de Bergerac. He's now concealed himself in the shadow created by the back door. Quietly coaching me, he's going to make sure we get her.

After shaking my head no, I suddenly start to nod. The confusion dances on her face and quickly turns into a wide smile followed by a giggle. "Well, which is it? Yes or no?" Please don't laugh at me. I don't like when people laugh at me. But, if I stand a chance at having her, I can't tell her or it'll scare her away.

"Both," I stammer. "He baked 'em." She doesn't say anything, but I know she doesn't have a clue what the fuck I'm talking about. I don't even know what the fuck I'm talking about. I can see the question dance in her beautiful eyes. "M-my brother. I um…I helped. Ate mostly…b-but, yeah. I helped."

Nodding in understanding, she places one hand on her elevated leg to swat at a fly. "Tell him, thank you. They were delicious." The sound of the car approaching makes her turn her head and by the time it turns back to me, she's grinning from ear to ear.

"Invite them out tomorrow night." I don't want to. This is his thing. I find them, he gets them. But for some reason, he's not doing his part. Ivar's changing the rules and I don't know what to do about it. "Trust me, Serk. You're doing fine," his whisper is still so calm and soothing.

I look past her, at the car now pulling into her parking pad. A large man with muscular arms leans out of the window and smiles. I don't say anything as he gets out of the car and starts to walk to where she's standing. She's just as fascinated by him as I am. He's so much bigger than me, so much stronger. But even being as built as he is, he gently slips an arm around her waist and looks up at me with clear eyes and gives me a smile that rivals hers. My attention is split between them. A second ago I didn't think I could want anything or anyone more than I want her. Now I'm not so sure. 

I can almost taste them both.

With her, it's about her beauty. Him? It's about his strength. I know I need to feed the feeling in me. But it's more than that with them. I want to take a piece of them and it has nothing to do with the twisting and churning in my stomach. They would fill a piece of my soul.

"Honey, um…" She looks at me with hopeful eyes and I draw a complete blank.

Ivar's chuckle is almost audible to them, but he keeps his voice just low enough that only I can hear it. "Tell her your name."

For as much as I'm salivating, my tongue feels dry and too large for my mouth. My palms are sweaty and I'm shaking.  “Um, you can just call me, Fitz.”

Her smile makes the dizziness go away. "Fitz and his brother made the cookies." She leans back against his chest and bats her happy eyes at me. There are so many things I want to see in those eyes. I want to see what they look like when she's afraid. I want to see my reflection in them while I'm on top of her. I want to see tears pooled inside of them. Maybe when we're done I'll ask Ivar to save them for me. I swear I could look at those eyes forever.

"Thanks, man. That was really decent of you." He leans down and places a kiss on her neck. He's in control. I can tell because she looks at him like I look at Ivar. I can't wait to have that control over both of them. "My wife was nervous about moving out here, and not knowing anyone... especially since I work all the time. But those cookies made her feel at home." He squeezes her tighter and looks up at me.

"Now." I hear Ivar's voice and I feel unsteady on my feet. His hand on the small of my back helps me keep my balance. Maybe I could talk if my heart was pounding like it is.

All I can muster is nod. And he nods back before taking her hand and leading her back across the way to their house. "Hey?" I bark the question still not knowing where my voice is coming from. My eyes close on their own because I don't want to see that look on their faces when I fuck this up. "Would you, um…tomorrow…want to go out? Drinks…no, uh…party. Show you some cool things we, um, we like to do here?" Shit. I feel like an idiot. Why couldn't Ivar do this? He knows what he's doing. I, on the other hand, am fucking this up.

If Ivar's hand wasn't on my back I swear I would turn and close the door in their faces. I want them but I can't take the rejection. The flashes of light are starting again. I'm getting sick.

"That sounds like fun. Around nine?" Her sweet voice saves off my nausea. Nodding in confirmation she flashes that smile at me and I see his face light up because she's happy. As they head back to the safety of their house, I can finally breathe.

As soon as I close the door the tears start in my eyes and Ivar's arms are around me. "I'm so proud of you."  His smile lights up his entire face, and he has the brightest glimmer in his eyes.

"Why?"

His fingertips wipe the tears that escape before he lovingly strokes my cheek. "Because you needed your confidence back." He's so sure of me. I can't disappoint him. I don't want to disappoint him. And more importantly, I don't want to disappoint myself.

"I want them."

"And you can have them. They're yours, baby. Anything you want; it's yours." He's right. Ivar just gift-wrapped them for me. Tomorrow will be a night that we will never forget. It's my first time stepping into the spotlight and I have to admit, I'm a little excited about that feeling. It was scary as hell, but I did it. If I could feel this good with that one triumph, I can't even imagine what tomorrow will bring.

I need to get ready - it's party time.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Tags: Let me know if you want to be added/removed from tags:

@youbloodymadgenius​​​​​​ @idea-garden​​ @kol--mikaelson​​​​​​ @mooniemouse​​​​​​@didiintheblog​​​​​ @tempt-ress​​​​ @waiting4inspiration​​​​​  @where-beauty-goes-to-die​ @crazyaboutmotleycrue​​​​​ @oddsnendsfanfics​​​​​ @geekandbooknerd​​​​​ @honestsycrets​ @ivarthebloodyking​

[coyotesongwriting]

When It Rains, It Pours - Ch. 14

Avengers - Bucky Barnes/Reader

Chapter 14 - The Truth

Story Summary:  Things are going great between you and Bucky, until one day they aren’t. He dumps you, not knowing that what you’d wanted to talk to him about was the positive pregnancy test you held behind your back.

Chapter Summary: It's time for you two to clear the air.

Author’s Note: Thank you guys for reading this, all mistakes are my own!

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters so don’t sue me please. I just really like them haha

Tag List (if you want to be added or removed let me know!):    @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @queenoftheunderdark  @samsgoddess @redfoxwritesstuff​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @fookingmuffins​ @yasnooshka24​ @redfoxwritesstuff​ @amazon-belle​ @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven​ @kinkywitchy​ @superwonderwholock​ @redhairedfeistynerd​ @paranoiadestroyah​ @cool-kids-cant-be-dead​ @sarcastic-and-cool​

Previous Chapter

If you thought he’d been sleep deprived before, you weren’t prepared for the heavy bags under his eyes. You hadn’t seen him that exhausted since he’d first joined the team and had been battling his nightmares. When was the last time he had slept through the night?

You leaned against the wall and slowly sunk down, closing your eyes as you leaned back to rest your head against the cool wall. You didn’t look as he joined you, sitting against the wall, close enough to reach out and touch but it felt like miles as you remembered all the late-night talks with the two of you side-by-side, sitting together as the world moved around you.

“Bucky, I don’t want to talk. Not anymore, I can’t do this” you sighed, your voice dropping to a whisper before you continued, “I can’t take it anymore babe…”

“Please, just give me a chance Doll… Hear me out this one time and I won’t ever ask you to again” he begged, his voice was low.

“Do I even get a choice?”

He nodded slowly, “Yeah, you get a choice. I’m done making decisions for you… If you tell me to shut up, I’ll just sit here with you until the doors unlock.”

You didn’t respond and you pulled your knees up against you, wrapping your arms around them as you rested your chin on them. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you studied him out of the corner of your eye. He was sitting rigid, staring straight ahead as he waited for you to decide. To those who didn’t know him, he would just look like a man lost in thought. You could see the nerves beneath the surface, the tension brewing in him like a storm.

You took a shuddering breath and closed your eyes tightly, “Okay”

“Is that… okay shut up or okay talk?” he asked softly, trying to bite back the hope in case you meant for him to be quiet.

“Okay, you can talk” you explained, turning to look at him, the side of your head now cushioned on your arms.

Bucky sat up slowly, afraid that if he moved too fast you’d spook like a wild animal. He shifted to sit facing you, the palms of his hands resting on his knees as he sat, legs crisscrossed. Nervously, he brushed the hair out of his face and let out a slow breath before he began.

“[Y/N] I need you to know I did - do - love you. I’ve never stopped. You’ve always been the one for me, and I miss you more than I can say every day that I’m not with you. I know you think I don’t love you, and you have every reason to think that because of what I did, what I said. I know I should have talked to you about it all when Loki first started in on me.

“But I didn’t, Doll. God, if I could go back in time I would, I’d sit you down and tell you everything. Instead, I let Loki tell me that you’d finally realized I was too fucked up. I let him convince me that you’d be happier without me. That you were planning on dumping me that night. I let myself listen to his lies and it wasn’t long before I began to believe them.

“I mean, you’re you, baby. You’re amazing and funny and sweet and always quick with a smile for your team. And I’m me, damaged and broken. What in the hell had I done to deserve you? Of course, you finally came to your senses. I didn’t decide not to talk to you because I don’t love you, or because I don’t trust you. I didn’t talk to you about it because it made total sense that you’d be done with me.

“At first I was determined to do better, be better, to win you back. I wanted to convince you to stay with me. And then it dawned on me you’d be better without me. You could move on and be happy without having to worry about me freaking out in a crowd, or me waking up in the middle of the night screaming. You deserve so much more.

“And I know you, you’re so sweet. And so caring. I didn’t want you to feel bad, I didn’t want you to feel guilty for dumping me. I thought if I broke up with you first, you’d feel relieved. I thought you’d be happy… So I said the stupidest thing I could come up with, something you couldn’t argue.”

Bucky stopped, dragging his flesh hand through his hair. You didn’t speak, your mind racing as you processed everything he said. His metal hand began to flex against his knee, clenching and unclenching as the nerves took over. Wordlessly, you reached over to grab his metal hand in warm hand, your fingers softly intertwining as you began to rub soothing circles into the back of his hand as you had so many times before.

After a long moment, he continued, “I never knew how much it could hurt to be away from you, Doll. I never thought you’d leave, I thought I’d just have to watch you from afar. I didn’t count on not seeing you for almost two years. I thought I’d lose my mind when the only thing Thor would tell me is that you were okay. It killed me to not know how you were really doing and I realized I had fucked up but I didn’t know what to do about it.

“And then, Steve showed me a picture of you and Aspen smiling together and I realized just how bad my screw up had been. I realized I’d given up everything I had ever wanted, needed, because Loki got into my head. And I didn’t know how to tell you the truth when I saw you again. Then Loki was always there and you were happy and I thought I had to give you up, but Doll, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give you up, not to him.

“I’m so sorry Doll… I would take it all back if I could. I know it doesn’t mean much anymore, but I love you…” his voice trailed off, eyes staring down at the floor in between the two of you.

With your free hand, you wiped the tears from your eyes, gently squeezing his hand in your own. Neither of you spoke, your mind racing as you tried to put everything together. He refused to look at you, afraid of what he’d see.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Bucky, I never wanted you to be anyone but yourself. I know you think - thought? - that you’re a bad person but you’re not. You’re stubborn and playful and I’ve never met someone as loyal and brave as you. You always made me want to be better, not because I had to but because I wanted to. I just wish you’d talked to me… Maybe we wouldn’t be here. Maybe you would have known Aspen from the start…. Maybe we would still be together.”

“Were you ever going to tell me about her?” his voice was barely a whisper, the question he’d been too afraid to ask seemed to echo around the room.

“Yes. I didn’t mean to keep her from you but every time I thought about coming back here or telling you it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was terrified you’d tell me you didn’t want her, and I didn’t know how I’d handle that… I was scared.” you admitted.

“What were you going to tell her… About me?” his eyes studied the wall across the room as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“I was going to be as honest as I could be. Tell her that her dad was another Midgardian who I’d worked with and we’d been good together until we weren’t. Figured by that time she’d be old enough to come visit you if she wanted so I’d have to tell you by then, and if you wanted, she could come visit. I know it wasn’t my best decision but I got scared and didn’t know what to do…”

Leaving your hands nestled together, he slowly moved to sit in front of you sitting so close your legs were softly brushing together. Slowly you moved to mimic his position, the two of you sitting with your legs crisscrossed, knees touching. You bit your lip, glancing down at your hands before looking up at him through your lashes. He reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand and you leaned into it, eyes sinking closed.

“Give me another chance, Doll. Let me prove that I love you, I’ll never let you go again” he pleaded, his hand falling back to his side slowly.

“We’re not the same people anymore, Bucky. I’m not the woman you knew, I’ve changed… What if we’re just too different now?” you looked anywhere but at him as you voiced your fear.

“What if we’re not? Please Doll, one chance. Just give me one chance to prove to you we can try again.”

Eventually, you nodded once, “One date, Bucky. If we can’t make it work though, we have to move on. We have to figure out how to be friends, for Aspen’s sake, Okay?”

He nodded, smiling gently at you, “I swear you won’t regret this, [Y/N].”

His eyes quickly wandered to look at your lips before back up to meet your gaze. You blushed softly, pulling your lower lip slightly in between your teeth as you smiled up at him. His hand was still resting against your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. The moment seemed to linger as he carefully leaned in stopping an inch away, his eyes searching yours for permission. Slowly, you leaned forward and met his lips.

The kiss started slow, nervous. It didn’t take long before his hands rested on your hips and you were in his lap, your fingers tangled in his hair. He kissed you like a drowning man searching for a last breath of air, desperate and needy. For a moment, everything was right with the world.

And then, it wasn’t. A piercing wolf whistle pierced the silence as the doors opened, and you let out a low groan, burying your head in his shoulder. Bucky growled, his hands still gripping your hips as he glared over your shoulder at Clint.

“Hadn’t heard anything from you two in a bit, we were starting to get worried. Apparently, that wasn’t needed” Clint smirked, “Anyways, looks like you two love birds don’t need to be grounded anymore. You can come join us for dinner if you aren’t too busy.”

Bucky grabbed an empty vial off the counter next to you and chucked it at Clint’s head. Unfortunately, Clint had already ducked around the corner and the glass shattered against the wall instead. You let out a breathy chuckle against his neck, before carefully sliding off his lap.

Bucky got to his feet, and helped you to yours, pulling you into his chest. You pecked him on the cheek before stepping back out of his space. His hand quickly found yours, and you smiled over at him as the familiar sense of peace he'd always given you settled in, warm and comforting like a fireplace in a blizzard.

Your hands still entangled, you rejoined the group in the dining room. The others were all smiling and glancing down at your hands as you settled into the empty seats they’d saved for the two of you, no one wanting to draw attention to the affection you two were showing. Everyone but Clint of course.

“Glad you two could join us” Clint smirked, winking at you across the table.

After a long pause, you smiled at him, your grin predatory, “5… 4…”

“Clint? Run” Nat laughed.

His eyes flew wide, and he jumped to his feet, racing out of the room. As he rounded the corner, he started to slip in his socks and had to catch himself on the wall as he fled. You continued your countdown until he was out of the room and then laughed softly, stealing the water glass Clint had left behind.

“So, are you going to get him or..?” Bucky chuckled, squeezing your hand in his.

“Nah, I’m content to just let him run. It’s more fun to leave him stressing” you shrugged, leaving Nat laughing at your plan.

Dinner that evening was fun, it seemed like a heavy fog had lifted from the group. Clint never returned to the table, and you knew he was out there hiding, worrying about how you’d get him back. Throughout dinner, you and Bucky worked together to take care of Aspen, taking turns feeding her and entertaining her while the other ate. You and Bucky never stopped touching during dinner, whether it be your knees brushing against one another or your pinky fingers linking.

When everything had been cleaned up after dinner and everyone had settled in on the couch to watch a movie, Clint finally returned to the group. He muttered under his breath and watched you warily as he took a seat by Natasha, as far as he could get from you in the room. You merely winked at him, waiting for Bucky to return from putting Aspen to bed in your room. Friday would let you know if she woke or anything happened, and you knew she’d be safe so you were kind of excited for an adults-only evening.

Lady Sif had curled up next to Steve, her head resting on his shoulder and he stared down at her, eyes blown wide and face as red as a tomato. The poor man was stiff as a board and you were trying so hard not to laugh at the panic on his face. As Bucky settled back into the couch next to you, you smiled at him then turned back to Sif and Steve.

“You doing okay over there, Steve?” you teased.

“What? Yeah. No. Of course. I’m fine.” he stammered, his blush deepening.

“I told you, Sif” you snickered, “You’re going to break the poor man.”

Sif merely shrugged at you, her eyes dancing playfully as she leaned into Steve more. You were beginning to worry the super soldier was actually uncomfortable when you noticed the soft way he looked at her, and you began to wonder if there really was something there or if he was just too worried about offending her to push her away. Before you could bug her again, Bucky pulled you against his side. You weren’t sure what tomorrow would bring, or if there would be a future for the two of you, but if there wasn’t you didn’t want to have wasted a single moment not touching him when you could have.

As the movie started, you snuggled into him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder. Slowly, you fell asleep, tucked into him. You didn’t see the way he smiled softly down at you, his fingers slowly combing through your hair as you slept on him. It was the best sleep you’d had in a long while honestly.

When the movie finally drew to a close, Steve sprang away from Sif and quickly retreated, claiming he needed to be up early. As the others dispersed, Nat showing Sif where the guest rooms were, Bucky slowly got to his feet and picked you up. You burrowed into his chest, letting out a content sigh as he carried you to your room.

You let out a quiet groan of protest when he set you carefully on your bed. For a moment, you thought about asking him to stay but even in your exhaustion you knew it was too soon for that, you both needed space and time to figure out how you were going to make this work. He kissed you gently on the forehead, then did the same for Aspen before retreating to his room.

Next Chapter ->

Find This Story On AO3

[madamebaggio]

FATE CAN SUCK IT - Kingsman Fanfiction

Summary: Agatha didn't have an easy life: ran away from home at 15, became a prostitute, met her soulmate at 17...

Harry Hart was everything she had dreamed as little girl, but life destroyed that little girl. She had no use for him and she knew he would never want her, so she left.

10 years later she works for an agency that loves trouble and Harry is back.

Fate is such a pain in the ass.

***

Notes: This work is unfinished, but can be found here. Also, this is a Kingsman soulmate AU with a whole cast of OC.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

***

Chapter 1

Nikki was not a complaining person. Well, teenager, to be more honest. She’d had her rebel phase, thinking that she was smarter than everyone else around her and that her parents were stupid tyrants.

Running away with her good-for-nothing boyfriend of the time seemed like a great idea. She had been a very stupid 15-year-old.

Nikki was now 17 and the street had made her cold and cynical. Most days, she felt like she was 90. That’s what being a teenager prostitute did to you. She should not have been surprised.

Good-for-nothing boyfriend left her alone in the middle of London with no money, a fondness for LSD and too scared – and ashamed – to call her parents.

Nikki had always been too pretty and looked older than she actually was. The street was cruel to stupid young girls and turning tricks had been the only answer for her, even if it ate at her faster than the drugs. She was way too skinny now, but at least she was alive and had a roof over her head.

She had been lucky, honestly. Some of the girls had felt sorry for the lost 15-year-old and took her in. She had cried on her first night, until Foxy – one of the older girls – slapped her and told her to grow up and deal with it.

Six months after that, Nikki didn’t give a shit anymore. She felt dead inside and was just waiting for her body to catch up on that.

She wished now that she could look into the eyes of her 15-year-old self and tell her she was a stupid little bitch. She wished for a lot of things.

Right now, she wished she had a jacket.

The asshole of the night had put her in a car and drove her to some fancy neighborhood, then stopped in front of a house and demanded a blow job. Apparently it was his ex-wife’s house. Everybody had weird kinks and ideas; she could not care less about his.

What she did care a lot about was the fact that the bloody bastard refused to pay her for it, then slapped her – hard – in the face, before throwing her out of the car. So now she was in the middle of a posh neighborhood with no idea how to get back home.

It was after one, so there was no living soul on the street and even if there was, she could hardly see one of those blokes wanting to help a hooker. She would be lucky if she didn’t get into even more trouble.

Nikki hugged herself, hoping for a bit more of warmth. She had split lip, her shoulder hurt from where the arsehole had pushed her against the door, before he managed to open it and throw her out of the car. That lovely action left her with skinned hands and knees. The worst part was that she ripped her damn stockings, and they were bloody new!

She sighed and saw her breath in the air. Well, great. Just fucking peachy. She would freeze to death out here. Although… If she thought about the headlines of the next day (“Young hooker found frozen in a respectable neighborhood!”) she could even smile a bit.

She had to get fun from the very few places where she could.

She turned into another street – they all looked the same – and saw a man walking in her direction. He was wearing an honest-to-God suit at this time of night and carrying an umbrella on his arm. He looked like a fucking lord coming down the street.

When he saw her, he stopped for a second to access her – there was no other word for it – before coming in her direction.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked, a small frown on his too pretty face.

He was older, she could see it now. His hair was perfectly styled, his glasses probably were of some fancy brand and his accent was as posh as it got. But he called her “miss” and Nikki had to laugh at that.

“Miss, darling?” She huffed in a laugh. “Need stronger glasses?”

He arched a brow. “Are you lost?” He insisted.

“That obvious, huh?” She scoffed. “Just need some directions.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Very observant of you.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, darling, either you point me to a direction or…” She looked him up and down. “Ask me the price.”

His lips thinned in obvious reprove. Then it was like he had thought of something. “Alright. What is your price?” He asked politely, like he was asking her what time it was.

Well, she was not expecting that. At all. But she did not trust this guy for a second. He was way too good looking and proper to want a hooker like her. If he wanted one, he could get way better, but she could play the game.

“Depends on what you want, sugar.” She put her hand on her hip and cocked it.

“I want you to come home with me so I can take a look at your bruises, then ask a taxi to take you home.” He said with a simplicity that left Nikki feeling actually shocked.

“You wanna play doctor?” She asked flatly.

This time he rolled his eyes. “Yes.” It was amazing how much sarcasm a person could inflict on one single word. “So?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. What was the worst he could do to her? Kill her?

She walked a bit behind him, but they didn’t have a long way to go before he walked into a street that had a very charming house. It figured.

He opened the door and made a gesture for her to walk in first. She chuckled again at that, being treated as a lady by one of those guys.

He told her to sit on the couch and went to get something. Nikki started regretting a bit not having a knife hidden in her boots like some of the girls did. Maybe she had been a bit too harsh.

She was considering getting up and leaving when the man came back, carrying a small first aid kit.

“Let me see this lip.” He said, sitting by her.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” She was looking at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, because there was no way this man was this nice for absolutely no reason. “I’m not letting you fuck me for free, just cuz you’re being nice.” She warned him deadly serious.

The man looked at her like she had just said the stupidest thing ever. He had this curious look about him, a cross between outrage –at what she said -and disappointment –that she really thought that.

“This is not why I helped you.” He said firmly.

“Why was that again, sugar?”

“I do have a name.” He told her with exaggerated patience.

“OK. Do you want me to ask you what it is?” She made a face of such extreme innocence, that she knew he would see right through it. “I can even pretend to care about the answer.”

The man sighed – once more – and fixed his eyes on her. “Why so hard on the world?” He asked gently. “Why such tall walls?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” She snapped. “I’m a junkie and a whore, you don’t even know me. Why do you care?” She demanded of him. Yes, she was pushing, because she wasn’t exactly a junkie, but she wanted to make him cringe.

She was so pissed at him! Angry that he dared to make her care, that he scared and pressured her. Mad that he made her feel anything at all.

“Because we already live too harsh lives to be unkind to other people for no reason.” He replied honestly, his eyes looking at her like he could actually see her, the real her, not just this empty shell. “Because someone – anyone – ought to care about another human life.”

Oh Lord, this man couldn’t possibly be serious. How could anyone believe in something so cliché and naïve? How could a man at his age – she was guessing late 30’s to early 40’s – even think that the world was anything but a terrible place?

“You’re delusional.” She informed him, her voice shaking a bit.

“Maybe a little bit.” He had this grin on his face. “I’m also Harry Hart. Nice to meet you.”

He offered her his hand, but Nikki was not seeing it. The name kept playing over and over in her head.

“Harry Galahad Hart?” She asked, her voice now really trembling.

His face became shocked, then suspicious in a second. His eyes fell to her chest, not to ogle, but she knew what he was looking for.

Nikki had been born with the name “Harry Galahad Hart” on her chest, right over her heart, in the curve of her breast, the name of her soulmate, the one person in the world that was meant for her. She spent years trying to figure out who that person was, imagining thousand ways in which they could meet.

Then good-for-nothing- boyfriend came along and reminded her that Harry had her name too and was probably older – since she was already born with his name – and he had not come looking for her. Harry might not want her.

Maybe, if she hadn’t been in such a bad place back then, she wouldn't have listened to him so easily, but she was desperate to leave, so she pretended she didn’t care about Harry Hart anymore.

Nowadays, she just knew she had nothing to offer and with her luck Harry would either be a drug dealer or a pimp.

She never thought, in a million years, that she would really meet him, or that he would be so… This.

Harry was frowning now, because there was nothing on her chest. Clients didn’t appreciate seeing soulmates names on their hookers – maybe it reminded them that they were likely cheating – so most girls covered theirs.

Nikki licked her index finger and passed over her chest, revealing some of the letters, enough to read “Galah”.

“So…” He cleared his throat. “You are Aga…”

“I go by Nikki, it’s more whorish.” She had no illusions that this man would want her, so she might as well destroy this now.

“God, you’re 17!” He seemed beyond shocked now. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then his eyes started going from one direction to another, never looking at her.

“I’m also not interested.” She declared getting up; she had to leave this place. This was all she could never have, not now, not ever. Harry might even be a decent man, but he would never be able to handle this.

Even if he thought he was, one day they would fight and what would he say to her? She could hear him calling her a whore already.

“Look.” He got up too, “It’s not that you…”

“Spare me.” She threw her hair back, the picture of nonchalant. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“Nikki, my life is complicated…” He tried again, but she had enough.

“I don’t care.” She told him with finality. “Because I know where this is heading and I lived 17 years of my life without you in it. I can sure as fuck live the rest of it.”

She walked to the door. “Let me call you a cab.” He asked politely, but also nervous.

“I can walk, darling.” She called over her shoulder before stepping once again into the cold night.

She started walking fast, but Nikki only realized she was crying when the first drop hit her arm. Yes, it still hurt, even knowing she could not have it. It would get better, then again, it was not like it could get any worse.

[nymphl]

Lie to Me - Hux x Reader x Ch. 16: Guilty & Innocent

A/N: Hello there xD As promised, here it goes chapter 16 of Lie to Me. I’m working on chapter 25, but it’s getting quite difficult right now because whenever I get some time to write, my mom starts talking about just... about everything. And I feel extremely bad to tell her to stop even when she talks for hours nonstop and it gets on my nerves? haha So bear with me just a little more. This quarantine is being harder on her than on me. 

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations; tros fix it; anti tros; nobody likes general pryde.

Wordcount: 3420

PREVIOUS CHAPTER 

IT HAD BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE ARMITAGE HUX LAST SAW THAT ARMOR. The only indication he had his words had not gone to waste were the slight and occasional nods he could see through the compromised transmission.

The poor broadcast made it difficult for him to understand the already muffled words because of the gigantic helmet. Yet, he insisted. There was something he needed to know, and it could not be delayed any longer.

Depending on the answers he got, he would have to change his plans drastically. The future — his future, her future and the First Order’s as well and why not the whole galaxy? — depended on what Captain Phasma would say. She was, in no way, a reliable source — he doubted anyone in the First Order could be considered as such —, but the Captain of the Stormtroopers was no Politian.

As a militarist, she was good at following orders, not defying them, and yet…

…they had history together.

And if there was someone he came closer to ever trust, he could say it was the chromium-armored stormtrooper. In truth, she said very little, but more than enough for someone such as himself. Out of the triumvirate — one out of many in the First Order —, Armitage Hux could say he was the best strategist — not blessed with either the Force or physical strength, the slim and awkwardly tall boy had to work on his forte: his brain.

In any case, the possibility of another betrayal — something he quite did not expect the first time around — would not come off as a surprise at this point. He was counting on it. In fact, he planned the probable outcome for each situation. No one could say the General was a man who enjoyed the unexpected — that was why he never had time for people nor relationships; feelings were unpredictable —, and while he adapted quite easily, his distaste for such was immeasurable.

The unforeseen made him feel powerless and everything that did not add for his bright future as Supreme Leader — Emperor, no one could say he dreamed little — was disposable. A controller. Armitage Hux was a control freak and everything — people and feelings included — that could not be controllable was better left behind. Thankfully, Captain Phasma fell in the first category.   

“There’s word out there that you betrayed the Order.”

He narrowed his eyes — something she would not be able to see given the transmission.

“Careful, Phasma.”

His strategy was quite simple, really. After his reveal, Captain Phasma would either keep his secret or she would tell the Supreme Leader — or even Ren himself. Or they would read right through her — he could only hope she learned by now how to conceal her thoughts.

Nevertheless, he was ready for any outcome. If the latter happened, his plans would only be hastened a bit.

“The Resistance attacked us in Rioza. They stole the shipment in its entirety. Some believe you feed them information.”

He thought that a smirk would have looked too suspicious. And yet he smirked. The slight tilt of his lips went unnoticed by the Captain.

Instead of giving her an answer — of soothing her fears and insecurities —, he chose silence. And she knew better than to expect a response for such a stupid statement.

“So… You’re coming back? You’ll prove them wrong.”

It sounded like a question — and it was a question; Captain Phasma lacked the intricacies of a more modulated speech —, but it was also a half-assertion. Once he was alive, it was expected of him to come back. The First Order was his life — after all, he had been molded for the position and role he fit in right now; the fact he was at the sore end of the bargain, with less than he deserved was a mere casualty —; he had pledged his life to it.

Not satisfied in taking his life — or almost taking, it would be a surprise when they saw he was in fact very much alive —, those who plotted against him managed to destroy his reputation in the Order.

He almost snorted.

The irony was too good to miss. The poster-boy, the golden General — a Grand-Marshall if they would so give what he deserved and worked so hard for —, was no more than a traitor.

Shaking such thoughts away, he concentrated in her question.         

I make no idle promises.

The words were on his tongue, dying to be unleashed. He knew better. Even though he said it once, in a vastly different context, true, the meaning applied for the situation at hand. Suffice to say that Armitage Hux was a man whose distaste for the unpredictable rivaled his aversion to small talk and stating the obvious. If Phasma learned to battle with her physical strength, the slim, tall, awkwardly ginger Arkanisian boy was forced to quickly understand the power of the words.  

Instead, he nodded.

Guilt…

You felt guilty before, but it could not compare to how you felt now. It was destroying you to know he had left and was yet to come back. When he said do not wait for me, you thought he meant for the night, not for whole four days.

A monster…

You felt like a monster for not giving him an answer.

But what else could you say? What else could you do? You were caught in your lies once, it was not like you could say you trusted him when you were not sure you did. You were cornered. Afraid and feeling guilty.

You had not realized it before, but you regretted saving him — you thought that was not something that would go away. He was the enemy. He and his precious First Order had invaded your planet — your home. It is true they betrayed him and tried to have him killed — and only the Maker could know why. You wondered if the General knew the truth himself — not the twisted lie you told him. 

Besides, he said himself he probably knew about the new virus wreaking havoc in Dantooine, causing the death of so many aliens right now.

He could have lied. He could have said he had nothing to do with it, but he decided to be honest, and so did you.     

You just did not expect him to leave for good.

It had been four days since he left. Obviously, you paid no heed to his warning. You had to go back. You had to work. Your coworkers — the few of them who did not stop working — were counting on you; lives depended on you. You had to go back to the Hospital. Your own life and safety meant very little face to the gravity of the situation.

The possibility of getting infected by the disease was no longer a threat — it was confirmed it was spread through the water and only alien species were vulnerable to it. Unlike the Krytos Virus, this one — the alien flu as your coworkers called it — could not be reversed by using bacta in the treatment. And if the most powerful healing substance could not kill it, you doubted anything else would. You had discovered — out of sheer luck or utter despair, you were no longer sure — that a small substance, not found in abundance in Dantooine and already out stock, seemed to alleviate the symptoms and delay the impending death.

Yet, even if the risk of getting sick was nil, at least one healer had been eaten by the crazed aliens quarantined.  You would be lying if you said the possibility of being eaten alive did not scare you. However — and you could not help the comparison —, Aquilla would never let it hinder him. You could only hope the General understood it. Saving people was in your DNA, you could not help it.

At least, that was what you prepared yourself for when you returned to the Cave — your own house had been invaded by homeless, sick aliens; something you would not and could not complain about, they needed it more than you ever did —, only to find it empty. D-Five was making dinner for you only. The always so very efficient and proactive protocol droid told you he would not come back that day, but he was ready to be your company and talk about whatever topic you saw fit. The talk did not take place in the next day either, for you were welcomed with the same words. On the third day you gave up on the talk. You would not return to find the Cave empty.  

Today, you felt very inclined to stay at the Hospital again.

A tired sigh left you as you entered the refresher. It was a very hot day in Dantooine and even though you longed to get home — if you could call the cold and dark Cave as such —, and get some rest, you knew you had to stay awake to take care of the children in your care.

You splashed cool water in your face, trying to wash away the sleepiness that began to take over you. The mirror placed on the wall showed you a very different face from not even a week ago. You had dark circles under your eyes and your skin lacked the luster of a healthy person. It did not help you could barely eat for the past few days — worry always compromised your appetite greatly.

Placing your hands over your face, you took a moment to breathe deeply and keep your thoughts at bay. A part of you wondered if he died — it was quickly dismissed; he was too smart to die that easily and you thought you would know, you knew when Aquilla died, it was not something rational, more like empirical, you just knew —, and part cogitated the possibility of him going back to the First Order.

I am loyal only to myself.

…and to you.

Is he though?

You shook your head. He would not go back to them. They betrayed him. They conspired to have him killed — or so he said, and could you trust him? Senator Organa was still to get back to you…   

…And he said himself you should not wait for him.

It was impossible not to wonder if he was back to the First Order. He was a General and someone of his position — in control of such immensurable power — would hardly let go.

Your thoughts were interrupted with the buzz of your comm-relay. You took it with you as soon as you left home in the first day, too worried to stay parted from it — you had to know what happened to General Organa, you needed to. However, you were afraid of sending a message and it falling on the wrong hands — only the Maker could know how many lives such a message could affect.

Not giving it much thought, you opened the comm-relay only to be greeted by the tired and old face of the woman who invaded your mind more than you would like for the past few days.      

“Were the Coordinates right? Did everything go—

You stopped yourself, biting the inside of your cheeks to the point you felt the coppery taste in your tongue. You closed your eyes — well, it was too late to say anything else now.

Kriffs.

If she did not know before that you did not trust your contact, she knew now. In her place — even if everything went smoothly, you would not trust this deserter of the First Order. It was clear that unlike Finn — or FN-2187 and what a dehumanizing way of calling someone —, your contact was not reliable.  

I trust him with my life.

As if.

If she noticed your internal conflict, she chose not to comment on it, “Tell your contact we are grateful for all the information he has provided.”

You were not sure if she noticed it either, but you straightened your back. It felt as if a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders. It felt as if you could finally breathe again. And you took a deep intake of breath. Your lungs burned with the amount of air you inhaled. And yet, you would not trade this sensation for anything else.

With the relief, came the regret.

You were once again guilt-ridden.

You should have trusted him.

You should have believed him.

You should have…

…let go of your apprehensiveness and listened to him. Listened to your heart that wanted so badly to accept his words and not to your mind, that wanted to paint him as the villain of your story.

He was… innocent all long and you were just… Kriffs. A monster for judging him so harshly. 

“…not only right, but useful as well.”

Shaking your thoughts away, you decided to actually look at her and pay attention to what she said.

“What took you so long?” you asked, not really sure you overstepped your boundaries. The nature of your relationship was not clear as of yet. However, you had to know. If the cause of her delay was not related to an imaginary — you were such a fool — betrayal on Hux’s part, you needed to know the reason. 

General Organa took a moment to answer, as if testing her words. As if testing… you. It was clear she was surprised at your disarray, but once again she chose not to comment on it. If she was preserving your privacy or if she did not trust you to such extent, you did not know.

“A new disease spread in the outer-rim territories kept the Resistance busy.”

Your eyes widened.

“The Alien Flu…” It left your lips in a meek whisper. You knew it was bad, but you had no idea it was spread in planets other than Dantooine. If eradicating a disease in a single planet was almost impossible, you could not say what you expected of part of the galaxy. “Kriffs!”

There was moment of silence.

Senator Organa was most like analyzing your reaction. And you could not say you judged her. In her place, you would do the same — if Aquilla had not spoken about this, you could say the General taught you with his posture, but you knew that silence spoke volumes about a person or a situation.

“Perhaps your contact knows something about the disease and its cure.”

It was your time to keep silent, however brief it was. Soon, the words came to life in your mouth, “No. He doesn’t.”

Her expression was somewhat blank. You had no idea if it meant she believed you or if she thought everything you said was utter bullshit. General Organa did not strike you as someone who trusted others — even if they helped her once — that easily. On your part, you were surprised for defending him so vehemently.

He could be innocent.

He is innocent.

Even if the concept of innocence did not apply to those in an organization that profited by waging War in the galaxy — by those who believed in a project of a fallen Empire, the very embodiment of tyranny and villainy.   

Kriffs.

You did not know what to believe anymore. The fact that he simply vanished did not help the tiniest bit.  

“I thought as much.” She brought a bottle of water to her lips. It concealed most of her face. “Only someone of the highest ranks would know about that.”

You bit your bottom lip.

She knew.

A shiver ran down your spine.

“Listen.” You swallowed. “I have to go.”

As soon as you ended the transmission and shut down your comm-relay, you left the Hospital. This time you did not care about your clothes or your own sanity — which you knew was lacking right now.

The fact that you did not sleep coupled with the discovery of his… — you had no idea what to call it, honesty, perhaps? — coupled with the truthfulness of his words made your heart beat faster and not only because you were running towards the Cave.

You had to get to him. You had to talk to him. You had to… see him. You were not sure you could trust your words right now. Seeing his face would suffice. However, more than the imperious need to see him, you needed to know.

By now, he already knew if he had a hand in what was taking place in Dantooine and other territories in the outer rim.

Only someone of the highest ranks would know about that.

If he still had most of his accesses to the First Order database, then he knew why they did it — and it was getting increasingly difficult not to understand their reasons; aliens ate humans and humans hated aliens. Only a racist organization, product of that dictatorship called Empire, could unleash such a hateful disease upon the distant and forgotten planets — and how to possibly end it.

Because there must be an antidote.

There has to be.

If you were to find him, D-Five would give you his coordinates. The protocol droid would know where he was. You just had to make him talk.

You ran as fast as your tired limbs would carry you. As fast as your own heartrate would allow you to. Part of you was grateful for his harsh training, without it, you doubted you would be able to stand on your legs right now. Getting almost no sleep for the last few days helped very little.

It was with some relief — great relief, actually — that as your feet brought you to a stop in front of the Cave, and you spotted not only the General, but his partner — was she really a partner or they were only analyzing each other and waiting for the best moment to end not only their partnership but the other’s life? — as well. Behind them, there was a Personal Petite Yacht you have not seen in years.

“You look like shit, hon.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you breathed deeply through your nose. You almost — you knew the General would scowl if you did that — placed your hands on your knees to support yourself. Even if it was a short distance between the Hospital and the Cave, you felt like you had run a marathon.

“Aurra.”

The General straightened his shoulders and shut off his electronic cigarette. You shifted your attention to him. You were not the only one who looked absolutely terrible. If you slept little, the General got close to no sleep whatsoever.

His cheekbones seemed even sharper now. Besides not resting properly, you could say he was not eating as well.

If the situation was any different, you could say you were worried about him. Right now, all you could feel was a crushing guilty and extreme relief — he was alive, and he had not gone back to the First Order. And it sufficed.

He had no time to say anything — and you doubted he would —, for she hit her walking stick on the rocky ground, attracting your attention.

“You arrived just in time, dear.”

In time for what?

“Go ahead.” She pointed at the ship behind her. “You two shall leave for Canto Bight.”

The General outstretched his hand for you to take. Even if you hesitated ­­­— to depart for Cantonica right now made no sense whatsoever, not with the medical crisis in the outer rim territories ­—, you placed your fingers upon his. He immediately pulled you into his embrace.

You bit your bottom lip —­ not risking a glance at Aurra; you had no idea if she still believed you were his weakness and honestly you did not want to let her know there were problems in paradise ­— and moved one of your hands over his shoulder.   

“Do you trust me?” he asked. His voice was no more than a whisper in your ear.

Do I?

Part of you wanted to say you did. If you learned something today, it was that he was far from the lying monster you believed him to be ­— and you had lied to him as well! You were sure of one thing only — if you wanted to survive, it you wanted to find the cure for that damned disease, you had to trust him.       

“Do I have any other choice?”

You expected silence. Instead, you felt the tip of his nose running over the sensible skin of your neck as he breathed in your scent.

“No.”

A/N - See you on Friday. Guys, I’m also posting Lie to Me now on Wattpad. I update every Wednesday xD

[lilacflamesss]

Shattered (Chapter 2)

Smutty Ayahina College AU

Summary: Hinami tries to deal with her sorrows through seeking Ayato out. Ayato can never turn away the girl he loves far more than he should. Two people with unrequited feelings, dealing with them in very different ways. Human AU. (5.5k words)

Warning: This fic contains unhealthy copic mechanisms, heavy sexual content, and plenty of problematic/ dubious things which I absolutely do not condone at all. This is a work of fiction that takes on a more mature, physical take on Ayahina’s relationship as opposed to the typical conventional one. Please feel free not to read this fic if it’s not your cup of tea! 

A/N: Morning after chapter! I’m going to turn this into a larger series, but the chapters won’t be out in chronological order I guess. There’ll be some Ayato and Touka scenes and Kaneki and Hinami scenes as well in future, something about Ayato and Hinami’s first time and how this started out and maybe more about the future and how Hinami starts to fall for him as well. The next stuff I’ll post is probably the deleted scenes some people are so thirsty for COUGHCOUGH.  Please do reblog this and feel free to leave some comments!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4

Preview: 

Ayato swallows the lump that rose in his throat and he goes to the kitchen. She isn’t there either and while he pretends not to notice it, her bag that she normally places on the kitchen counter when she comes over isn’t there as well. Biting his lip, he walks over to the bathroom and knocks on the door.

“Hinami? Are you in there?” He waits for a short while, trying to ignore how the deafening silence is weighing down on his shoulders. He knocks again. “I’m coming in, if you don’t mind.”

The door isn’t locked. He doesn’t hear the sound of running water at all. There had been no reply to his call. He really shouldn’t be as surprised as he is to see the bathroom vacant. The clothes he had left on the shelf are no longer there, though the clothes she wore over to his place remained in the laundry basket, not that it is anything out of the ordinary.

Again?

He realises he feels more tired than upset. He walks out, taking another sweep of his apartment, softly calling out for her. There’s no reply, though he doesn’t expect one either. Throwing himself back down on his bed, he curls up into himself, burying his face partly in the duvet and partly in his arms.

It happened again.

He really should have seen it coming. The previous night was just too good to be true. Nothing really works out for him that well anyway– not his family, not his job and definitely not her.

Ayato closes his eyes and groans out loud. He can still feel the heat from his half of the bed, but the other half had gone completely cold, as if the person sleeping there had gotten out as soon as she can to make her escape. His mind replays the events from the previous night, trying his best to figure out where exactly things went wrong. She’d been the one to initiate it all, so why is she the one who’s missing right now? Hadn’t she been happy as well? Try as he might, his memories only conjure up happiness from both of them, obviously already tainted by his own biased recollections of the scene. He’d been too surprised and excited that he’d probably not realise anything off about Hinami, much less remember it.

I told you so. Somewhere, a voice sings at him mockingly– the same voice that kept asking him to push her away. She was doing it to make herself feel better after what he had told her while they were in the shower. He was the idiot who misinterpreted and build castles in the air of deluded fantasies of the two of them. None of them will happen now. They’re back in that routine. She’s gone now, but she’ll be back eventually when she’s upset again. They’ll fuck again. She’ll run off again. The cycle will start all over again.

And frankly, Ayato is tired. He’s been for so long, yet he can never turn her away and he can barely confront her about it. He’s hopeless, fatigued and undeniably miserable but there’s nothing he can do about it because he’s unable to bring himself to do something about it. He reaches over to caress the side of the bed she had slept on and he finds himself snickering as he pictures himself in the pathetic state he’s currently in.

She’ll be back one day.

And then she’ll leave again.

She always comes back.

And she always leaves.

The first thing she’s aware of when she wakes up is the sound of the rain falling in the near distance, pelting down rhythmically on zinc rooftops and metal railings. It seems like it’s going to be another lazy day and she’s thankful it’s the term break. Hinami has nothing to do– at least for the week.

Even though it’s a cold day, she’s warm and comfortable, snuggled up under a blanket against a hard chest with strong arms wrapped around her petite frame. She opens her eyes slowly, blinking them to try to orientate herself a little. The raindrops fade from her attention, her ears now ringing with the songs of his deep breaths and soft snores instead. Ayato is still deep asleep and Hinami looks up to see his face smoothen out in strangely peaceful expression.

Ayato is never really expressive around her. He usually has a sullen look, as if he’s too bored or unbothered about the things around him. The only time she really sees anything different is when they’re intimate, though most of the time it’s reserved to cheeky smirks. As she continues watching him, Hinami realises that the only other time she saw a similar relaxed expression was probably in the bedroom the previous night.

I want to love you the way I want to love you.

Hinami gets up slowly, propping herself on one arm as she rubs her eyes with her other hand. Ayato’s words ring in her mind and she recalls her words to him as well– I want to love you the way you want me to as well. She knows she wasn’t lying when she said it to him, but she has to wonder how honest she was about it when she said it. It’s true she had blurted it out in the heat of the moment, but it’s also true that she wants to make him happy and give him what he wants as well.

He has his own family now and while Hinami had all along known that there never really was a chance for her, it had finally dawned on her how hopeless a dream she had been chasing. Scampering towards her own fantasies, she’d been blind to even her own reality.

Beside her, Ayato doesn’t wake up, but he shifts slightly. His arms tighten their embrace around her waist and he moves to nuzzle against her skin, murmuring her name softly. Hinami reaches over to run her hand through his hair. It’s stringy to the touch and his strands awkwardly stick out in all directions, despite her trying to smoothen them down. Hinami realises that her own hair was probably in the same situation as well, since both of them had gotten into bed while soaked.

She feels her cheeks heat up as memories of the previous night surface– being carried by him into the room, kissing him, touching his bare skin and feeling him in ways she had never done before. They’d had sex so many times before, but it had never been as intimate as it was the previous night, though mostly due to her own fault. She’d made it clear to him from the start that they were not doing it because they’re in love. She herself doesn’t know why she kept coming to him for the sex, but there’s something that keeps pulling her to him– a certain, unexplainable craving to feel him against and inside of her. She supposes it did help her keep her mind off certain things and it made her feel the kind of closeness she wanted but could never achieve with him. Yet it always made her sick whenever she looks at Ayato afterwards and she always runs home, overwhelmed with nausea and migraines.

Sleeping with someone who’s in love with you when you’re in love with someone else is a terrible thing to do; Hinami knows that, yet she can’t help it. She’s always made sure to kept the two men apart in her mind and to think of them in different ways; she never lets Ayato kiss her because in the end, they’re not in love. It’s fine if it’s just sex. She’s not being disloyal to her love for him if it’s just that. She’d stay away from anything inherently romantic. She’s just with Ayato for the sex and she knows he wants to do it with her as well– so no one loses out, right?

Wrong. She was so wrong and so blind to this fact; she was so blind to everything. She’d never noticed how he was hurting; she’s never noticed that he was never satisfied. Everything about their relationship had been about her. She’d never done anything for him at all, while he’s always ready to jump in front of a bullet for her. Of course, it’s the stupidest thing ever. Why would he ever dedicate so much for a girl who didn’t even give him a second glance? It truly is ridiculous but Hinami can’t bring herself to blame him. The one who was an idiot was her.

It’s dumb– all of it. Her love for him was dumb. Her insistence to keep holding on to it was dumb. Using Ayato to forget her pain was dumb. Setting up those weird restrictions in her mind was dumb. All of it was dumb and she was the dumbest for letting that all happen.

Her hands trail down to his shoulder and she lets her fingers run lightly along the length of his arm. She notices that his arm is slightly lighter that his face; he’s always wearing long sleeves so his arms must be shielded from the sun a lot. His skin is smooth to the touch, muscles taut, yet relaxed as she touches him. Hinami’s never had the chance to really touch him since they’re either always jumping right into the sex or he’s taunting and tormenting her while he remains fully-dressed. But it feels nice to be able to touch him as well and it feels like the previous night wasn’t enough and that she wants to touch him more.

Ayato whines softly and he pulls himself closer to her, now practically flushed against her. Even in his sleep, he seems to be clinging onto her as if he would lose her otherwise. Hinami wonders how it must have felt for him every time she told him she wanted to end things– did it upset him or was he relieved that their pretence was over?

Even if she’s resolved to try and forget him and even if they’re resolved to take their relationship down a different route, it seems like there’s still so much left in the air about them. But Hinami knows that there’s no use thinking too much about all this on an empty stomach so she slowly pries Ayato’s hands off her and climbs out of bed.

Ayato had set aside clothes for her the night before, but they had been left in the bathroom. Hinami heads over and quickly gets dressed, grabbing her toothbrush from the stand to brush her teeth. She muses at how she still has so much of her things in his home, even though she rarely ever stays over. She won’t even be surprised if half of her products in the bathroom had long expired.

Leaving the bathroom, she glances once again at Ayato, who remains sprawled on his bed and doesn’t show any signs of waking. Hinami decides to let him sleep as she goes to prepare some breakfast for the both of them. The empty cans of beer she had picked up from the floor for him still stood on the table and Hinami makes a mental note to nag at him to clear them later. She enters the small kitchen and opens the refrigerator, only to wrinkle her nose at how empty it was. Save for a carton of beer and a couple of eggs, there really isn’t anything else in it. She could fry some eggs for the both of them, but that will be far from a hearty breakfast. After rummaging around in his kitchen, Hinami realises that there was absolutely nothing at all to eat. The cabinet is filled to the brim with instant noodles and chips, but there is nothing suitable for breakfast. It seems like she might have to run to the store a few blocks over and get some stuff.

With her mind made up, Hinami grabs the bag she had left on the kitchen counter and leaves the apartment.

Ayato wakes up feeling strangely cold and empty. For a long while, he lies still, staring right ahead of him in a blank state of mind. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s completely naked and another longer moment before he remembers why. As the memories flood back in, Ayato feels his cheeks heat up, accompanied by a rush of boyish excitement over what had happened the previous night. It feels almost like a dream, but he remembers every detail far too vividly for it to truly be a dream.

She kissed me. He lightly rubs his lips; he can still feel the feeling of her lips against his. Hinami had reached out for him last night. She had pulled him down. She had pressed their lips against each other. Everything had been her– her choice, her initiative. Last night, she wanted him for who he is and this thought sends a burst of sparks through him. He feels like a little kid at a carnival.  

He sits up and looks around the room. There doesn’t seem to be anyone but him, which is clearly strange since he’s sure Hinami wouldn’t have left, especially after last night. His heart sinks a little at the thought that his fantasies of waking up with her lying asleep in his arms isn’t going to be fulfilled at this moment. Though he’s always been a heavy sleeper so it comes with no surprise that Hinami woke up before him.

Ayato gets out of bed and walks to his closet to pull some clothes on, before he leaves the bedroom. The living room is just as lifeless. He notices the empty cans on the table. Hinami usually cleaned his trash up for him when she’s in a good mood, but when she’s in a bad mood, especially on those days when she’s exceptionally upset with what she did, she’ll usually leave without paying mind to anything.

Ayato swallows the lump that rose in his throat and he goes to the kitchen. She isn’t there either and while he pretends not to notice it, her bag that she normally places on the kitchen counter when she comes over isn’t there as well. Biting his lip, he walks over to the bathroom and knocks on the door.

“Hinami? Are you in there?” He waits for a short while, trying to ignore how the deafening silence is weighing down on his shoulders. He knocks again. “I’m coming in, if you don’t mind.”

The door isn’t locked. He doesn’t hear the sound of running water at all. There had been no reply to his call. He really shouldn’t be as surprised as he is to see the bathroom vacant. The clothes he had left on the shelf are no longer there, though the clothes she wore over to his place remained in the laundry basket, not that it is anything out of the ordinary.

Again?

He realises he feels more tired than upset. He walks out, taking another sweep of his apartment, softly calling out for her. There’s no reply, though he doesn’t expect one either. Throwing himself back down on his bed, he curls up into himself, burying his face partly in the duvet and partly in his arms.

It happened again.

He really should have seen it coming. The previous night was just too good to be true. Nothing really works out for him that well anyway– not his family, not his job and definitely not her.

Ayato closes his eyes and groans out loud. He can still feel the heat from his half of the bed, but the other half had gone completely cold, as if the person sleeping there had gotten out as soon as she can to make her escape. His mind replays the events from the previous night, trying his best to figure out where exactly things went wrong. She’d been the one to initiate it all, so why is she the one who’s missing right now? Hadn’t she been happy as well? Try as he might, his memories only conjure up happiness from both of them, obviously already tainted by his own biased recollections of the scene. He’d been too surprised and excited that he’d probably not realise anything off about Hinami, much less remember it.

I told you so. Somewhere, a voice sings at him mockingly– the same voice that kept asking him to push her away. She was doing it to make herself feel better after what he had told her while they were in the shower. He was the idiot who misinterpreted and build castles in the air of deluded fantasies of the two of them. None of them will happen now. They’re back in that routine. She’s gone now, but she’ll be back eventually when she’s upset again. They’ll fuck again. She’ll run off again. The cycle will start all over again.

And frankly, Ayato is tired. He’s been for so long, yet he can never turn her away and he can barely confront her about it. He’s hopeless, fatigued and undeniably miserable but there’s nothing he can do about it because he’s unable to bring himself to do something about it. He reaches over to caress the side of the bed she had slept on and he finds himself snickering as he pictures himself in the pathetic state he’s currently in.

She’ll be back one day.

And then she’ll leave again.

She always comes back.

And she always leaves.

His stomach knots up and he clutches it. He knows he should be getting food, but he doesn’t feel like going to the kitchen. He really should get up; he has work later, he needs to get some assignments done beforehand and he needs to stock up on some food. He doesn’t have all the time in the world to wallow in self-pity when there’s things to be done.

He rolls over to lie on his back, arms stretched out to his sides as his head spins from the dilemma between getting up to get his shit done and staying in bed. His mouth itches. “I need a stick…” Hinami will scream at him. She’s never been a big fan of his habit anyway. But she’s not here to stop him anyway.

She’s glad that the way to the convenience store is completely sheltered. Since she doesn’t have to use an umbrella, she’s able to get quite a bit of food. Ayato seems to have a terrible eating pattern based on his kitchen and she wonders if he’s struggling with his finances again. Though she has to admit it comes with no surprise seeing the money he’d spend on cigarettes and alcohol. She really needs to get him to stop.

When Hinami enters the apartment, Ayato doesn’t seem to be in the living room or the kitchen. She assumes he’s still asleep and rather than going to check on him, she decides to start cooking the rice first. Setting the things on the kitchen counter, she gets to work. She isn’t the best cook around, but she’s cooked for Ayato before and she knows he likes her food.

Hinami’s in the midst of washing the rice when she hears footsteps. Turning to the entrance of the kitchen, she sees Ayato peeking in, his eyes widening as they meet hers. He stands by the door, blinking at her in confusion and disbelief.

“Hi…nami?” he murmurs. His mouth remains parted as he looks at her, eyes trailing from her head to her feet. She wonders if he’s checking her out or something, though she’s not wearing anything too appealing– just a simple blouse with a black mid-length skirt. On the other hand, she can’t help staring at his clothes– an oversized black sweater with a rabbit on the front and a pair of grey sweatpants. It’s too cute; she can’t believe the guy standing in front of her in that outfit and messy bedroom hair is the same guy who had her pinned against the walls and weak at her knees in the shower last night.

“Oh, you’re awake. That’s a pity. I was going to surprise you with breakfast,” she says, setting the bowl of rice down as she reaches for the rice cooker. Ayato says nothing initially as he walks towards her and looks through the bunch of plastic bags on the kitchen counter. He’s standing close enough for her to smell the smoke on him and Hinami wrinkles her nose. “Did something happen?”

“Huh?”

“I can smell the smoke on you,” she points out. “You only smoke when you’re stressed or upset. What happened?”

“Nothing… I just felt like it,” he murmurs. He pulls a package out and stares at it. “You even bought tofu…”

She’s watching him from the corner of her eye as she works the rice cooker. He doesn’t even appear to be bothered enough to hide the fact that he’s lying, or maybe he’s trying to but doing a surprisingly bad job at it. She finishes setting up the rice cooker and leaves it to cook before she moves closer to him, looking at the package as well.

“I bought it because I know you don’t like fish,” she says. “Does it feel bad to eat them when you’re working with fishes?”

Ayato raises an eyebrow at her and places the tofu down. “No, it tastes bad. Besides, no one eats the kinds of fishes from the pet store.”

“I heard those dragon fishes are sold in some places as food,” Hinami admits, remembering a particular fish Ayato had happily point out to her in the pet store once. She’d went to read up on them, curious about what could have gotten him so excited, and came across that in a forum.

“Their meat isn’t that delicious, even to seafood lovers, and there’s a lot of bones. Anyway, why would people even think of eating them?” he grumbles.

“I mean, it’s a fish… People eat mackerels and tuna. They’re all fishes.”

“Would you eat a rabbit then? Since they’re mammals and you eat pigs.” That smug grin surfacing on his face somewhat annoying and Hinami grins back at him.

“I know they’re a delicacy in some places.”

Ayato blinks, staring at her with his eyes widening at the revelation, and it’s Hinami’s turn for smugness. She reaches for the packet of tofu and starts ripping it open.

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not,” Hinami huffs. “People really do eat rabbits.”

“No one eats rabbits!” he argues, grabbing her by the arm to turn her around to face him. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Hinami insists. “I’m not you.”

She hadn’t expected to be given a chance to change the topic back, but she managed to and now she watches as Ayato’s face falls, grimacing a little at her words. He turns away, forcing his eyes to the plastic bags on the counter.

“… I was looking for you just now,” he admits softly.

“I went to the store…”

“I know… but I didn’t just now and… I thought you left to go home or something. You always did that– leaving without a word… I was just thinking about that, I guess. Then I got really upset and my mouth started to itch,” he admits, sighing a little as he turns to her. He smiles a little, but it is clear that he is forcing it out. “Sorry I smell like shit.”

She doesn’t actually mind it as much as she minds the act itself, honestly. She drops the opened packet back onto the countertop and walks over to wind her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. She smells it on his breath, though it’s not too bad, but chooses to ignore it, tilting her head slightly to press her lips against his. Ayato stiffens in her arms and there is a lot of visible hesitation on his part before he winds his arms around her as well.

Hinami feels his tongue probing her lips and she parts them, letting him slide into her mouth. He runs his tongue along hers, hands pressing hard against the curve of her back. He tastes bitters and almost putrid and Hinami makes up her mind that he’s going to really have to stop smoking if he wants to kiss her some more. But for now, she ignores it and pushes against him, hands finding their place in his hair to tug and pull on the thick strands.

“You’re kissing me,” he murmurs against her lips as they break apart. Hinami hums in response, but Ayato doesn’t give her the chance to say anything else, running his lips down her chin and to her neck. He sucks on the spots she knows are already blemished from last night, licking and occasionally nibbling on her skin. One of his hands slide up her body, pushing her blouse up along with it to run his palm along her body. Hinami gasps softly as he reaches a breast, lightly palming it before he pushes her bra up to reach for her nipple instead.

Hinami’s hips shake with the sensation and she’s feeling the familiar heat pool in her abdomen. She feels his leg move between her own, nudging her crotch. She finds herself rubbing against him, desperate to feel more of him. Ayato raises his head slightly and moves to her ear, licking its length before he takes the lobe between his teeth and tugs lightly on it.

“I’m hungry,” he whispers, voice soft, deep and husky. Her legs go weak from the intensity of his voice, but it doesn’t matter too much as he’s hoisting her up, lifting her off her feet and placing her on the cabinet. He pushes her legs apart and settles between them, slowly unzipping her skirt and pulling it off her. The black fabric glides along her legs before it falls noiselessly onto the floor. She’s left slumping on the countertop, back partly propped up by the wall behind her, with her legs wide open for his eyes.

Ayato eyes the sight with a hungry look in his eyes and Hinami trembles as he licks his lips. He reaches forward, pressing his fingers against the fabric. She’s already damp by then and the glint in his eyes told her that he’s noticed it as well.

“Do you want this, Hinami?” he asks softly, rubbing lightly against her. She feels the cloth dampen and she wiggles her hip, rubbing herself against his fingers even more while cursing the fabric that’s keeping him from touching her directly. Ayato’s smirk widens at her action as he begins to pull panties down, letting it slide down her legs to the ground just like her skirt did. He spreads her legs further, pushing them till they’re up on the counter as well. She can’t possibly spread them any wider for him.

She hears voices behind her; people are walking right outside, right on the other side of the wall she’s leaning on. She in such an obscene position right when people were so close to by. The thought makes her gush and she almost closes her legs, only for Ayato to push them apart again.

“Don’t,” he instructs, reaching out to palm her wetness lightly– too lightly. “Keep them apart for me like that. Be a good girl.”

She likes it when he uses that playful tone with her. She never knows what’s on his mind, but the anticipation just makes things better. He runs his fingers down the full length of her slit before pushing a finger in, all the way in till his knuckles. He curls the finger, lightly stroking her insides, as his thumb rubs circles around her clit. She hears more voices, right outside of his apartment, and Hinami whines, trembling at the proximity between her and those people, biting her lips to keep in any moans.

“You’re squeezing me so hard. Do you like it when people are close by or something?” He’s teasing her, though she hears the hints of genuine curiosity as well. Ayato withdraws his fingers and Hinami would have whine in protest if she doesn’t see him bend forward, his face coming closer to her need. He keeps himself a short distance away from her for a moment, looking up for their eyes to meet. His hands rest on her thighs, rubbing the skin teasingly.

“Ayato…”

“What do you want?” he asks. He pinches her softly and she jolts. “You’re so wet. I can see you dripping right in front of me. Do you want me to eat you out?”

“I… I…”

He grins. Hinami feels his fingers again, this time parting her folds. He leans forward, sticking his tongue out and running it along the circumference of her entrance. He gives her a long, slow lick from bottom to top, moving excruciatingly slow at her entrance and circling her clit. He presses his tongue against it, before leaning in for a nibble. Hinami yelps. She’s so wet right now and she knows that it’s more than his saliva that’s coating her. She’s so turned on right now that it feels like she’s going to die if he continues teasing her like that.

“Ayato… Ayato, please…” Fingers finding her place in his hair, she pulls him forward. Ayato relents, letting her press him against her. His tongue continues stroking her, before he slides it into her, moving in circles as he licks up her juices from her walls. She’s grinding herself against him, panting his name out as her coaxes more moans out of her. His hand slides up her body, undoing some of her buttons, just enough to give him access to her boobs. Her bra is pushed up completely as he takes one boob in his hand, squeezing it while rubbing circles around her nipple with his thumb.

“Do you want to come?” he asks as he raises his head slightly. He moves his mouth to her clit, sucking the hard nub as he teases it with his tongue. His fingers replace his tongue inside of her.

“Y-Yes…” she gasps, as he thrusts his fingers in, finding her spot almost instantly. At her words, he begins pumping his fingers faster and harder. He raises his head to look up at her and Hinami pulls him towards her again, this time leaning forward to mesh her lips against his in a messy, heated kiss.  

“Come for me.” He broke apart just to whisper that against her, before claiming her lips in his again, sucking and nibbling her bottom lip as his fingers curl and slam against her weak spot, till she clenches around him, trembling and whining as she rides it all out. Hinami slumps backwards, eyes squeezed tight and chest heaving. Her head spins and she doubts she’d ever felt something like this before. She opens her eyes when she feels him pull his fingers out of her. Ayato stares at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick her juices off them. Her heart hammers in her chest as she watches him, before she reaches towards him and pulls him in for a kiss. She tastes a mixture of her juices and the bitter tinge of cigarettes on him and she pulls away, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Stop smoking.”

Ayato furrows his brows. “What?”

“Stop smoking,” she repeats. “It’s bad for you and I can taste it.”

“I can’t help it. I just felt like it,” he argues, sounding completely childish. “My mouth itches really badly sometimes.”

“Find something else instead.”

Ayato grunts. His arms find they place around her shoulders, holding her close to him. His eyes harden as he looks down at her, before he pulls her closer to lean against his chest. “Then, will you kiss me?”

“H-Huh?”

“Whenever I feel like I need a stick… Can I kiss you instead?”

It’s a stupid idea. It’s not like he smokes whenever she’s around. It’s unlikely that he’s going to be able to do so every time. Even then, Hinami’s reaching for him again for another kiss. It’s funny how merely twelve hours ago, she wasn’t letting him do so, but now she can’t resist reaching for him. She knows she hadn’t magically fallen in love with him or anything, at least not in the sense he loves her. But his lips feel good against her. Her mind spins as they brush against hers and she loses herself every time their tongues meet. He tasted good yesterday. He doesn’t taste like strawberries or sweets; he doesn’t taste like anything in particular– anything aside from a taste she can only describe as him.

“I love you.” Against her lips, his voice is muffled and soft, but Hinami hears it loud and clear. She wants him to stop saying that, but she also wants him to never stop saying it. She hates how it makes her feel; her stomach lurches and her throat clamps up. Every time he says it, she realises she doesn’t feel the same way, or to the same intensity as he does for her. Every time he says it, she’s wrought with guilt. He can be with anyone. He’s such a popular guy. He can easily find a girl who’d love and cherish him the way he does with her. But unsatisfying as he is, he stays by her side and Hinami wonders how he’s even able to do so. Would she have done the same in a hypothetical scenario with him? Would she have been able to stay by his side as craves someone else merely being there to give him the comfort he longs from the other woman instead?

“I love you, Hinami.” He repeats himself as he trails his lips down her neck. Despite the guilt, she smiles, drowning in the sound of his voice and the feeling of being wanted and treasure. She doesn’t want him to stop saying it. It feels so surreal that someone actually does want and love her, even though they’ve been going at it for months. He’s been her first everything. He’s taken them all. He’s been her first kiss; he took her first time; he brought her out on her first date. Maybe he hadn’t been her first love, but perhaps he can be something more than that.

Perhaps. She can see something with him in future. Part of it is surely because she feels somewhat responsible. She knows she doesn’t have to owe him anything and she knows he’ll hate it if she feels obligated to him, but she is and the fact remains that he’s done so much for her while she’s done nothing for him. She’s not doing this because she’s indebted, rather she wants to do it to make him happy. And isn’t that the first step to loving someone– the desire to see them happy?

The other part is because she really does see something out there with him; that there’s something in the deep blue eyes that looks at her which makes her feel that she doesn’t mind if these are the pair of eyes she’s fated to stare at for the rest of her life; that there’s something about the lean, but taut, body of his that she can continue clinging onto even when all is gone from her life; that the gentleness of his touch his something she’d love to continue feeling for eternity; that she can drown in his deep, playful voice if she has to. Perhaps Ayato is not him. Ayato is Ayato and that is no way a compromise at all.

I want to love you the way you want me to as well.

Her words ring in her memories, louder and clearer that the image of the event itself. She looks at him to meet his eyes, eyes which are now swimming in the deep emotions, conveying his emotions and feelings much more than any word can ever hope to. He loves me, he loves me. She’s chanting in her mind as she reaches to stroke his face, lightly tracing his jawline with her fingers.

“I’m blessed,” she whispers. Her hand moves to his hair, curling the soft strands around her fingers. “Thank you, Ayato.”

Ayato blinks. “For… what?”

For existing. For being here. For holding me.

For being you.

She shakes her head, laughing her words and thoughts off lightly as she slides down the counter, pulling away from his embrace. She gathers her clothes up, pulling them on and adjusting them. Ayato’s gaze burns into the back of her head and she’s sure he’s curious about her words. But she waves them off and turns to him with a smile.

“If you promise to quit smoking, I’ll let you kiss me whenever!”

A/N: It’ll become more obvious in the later chapters I suppose, but Hinami isn’t in love with him yet, though it’s not that she doesn’t have any feelings at all. She does, but she’s still too conflicted by the whole Kaneki thing. I’m gonna go to school now so I’ll just leave this as it is. 

Once again, please please do reblog if you like this! It’ll really help me out. Feel free to leave comments in the tags/ reblogs/ replies or through asks!

[high-hime]

Fandom: Degrassi Rating: M Word Count: 6,338 Chapters: 4 (ongoing) FF.net link to Ch2 (Please review?) Summary: One girl is a damaged soul and trusts no one. The other, an obvious liar with a fragile heart. What if Esme Song and Zoe Rivas have a lot more in common than they think? Zesme. Other ships may happen as well. Takes place after #SinceWeBeinHonest. TW: eventual sex, masturbation, language, implied self harm, depression, drug use & more.

The realization has suddenly hit me.-Miles Hollingsworth is officially out of my life. My bedroom has never felt so empty. My sheets felt cold and betrayed. My eyes are blank as I stare at my klonopins.

The bottle is within an arm's length, just as I'd left them this morning. I can take them. Shit, I can take five right now and I'd feel nothing. Regardless, what I felt now was meaningless. Then again, it might have been all along.

All of a sudden, I laugh. Quite audibly, even though it's at my own thoughts. As if I'd heard a joke and the smile that keeps tugging at my lips is a normal one. I myself can't even say if it's over the wasted time I never kept count of, or at how failed we were from the start. I'd be crying if I hadn't gotten that out of my system an hour prior to this.

I'm Esme Song, and I'm backwards.

Don't make this harder. I'm trying to change. Why did he fight me? Why did he want this?

You don't need to change for me! My thoughts had spoke for themselves.

My feet had carried me as many steps as he took to walk away from me. Never was I so honest in my entire life. He tried to give me a rejecting stare, but I knew he was confused. It was as if I was the first person he'd ever heard those words from.

There's nothing wrong with us! I insisted.

What are you saying? He asked.

We should run away.

What a fool I was. He gave me one last look of vulnerability as our castle had crumbled. Miles didn't have trust in me anymore. He was picking up his own broken pieces when he didn't even have to. He didn't need to change, but he wanted to. He made his choice before my hand could reach his shoulder. All I had done was watch him slip from my fingers.

My brows suddenly furrow, paired with a sudden, pathetic stab of loneliness. I dismiss the memory-and the rest of them I have of Miles with it. His concerns. His face. His touch; but more importantly, the wanderlust we had shared.-The only thing that kept us from thinking too much about how much we're fucked up.

With a flick of the wrist, my braid is freed, and my long hair is sprawled over my shoulders. I lay on my side, and my gaze drops to my wrist. It had no scars. No wounds from any sort of blade. Why my brain whipped up that idea-just to keep a friends with benefits around, no less, was probably the stupidest thing I've ever done.

I cried suicide; scratched and clawed to make him stay, and it was all for nothing. It was over. He had picked the option of carrying the burdens of life on his shoulders again, and I wasn't a part of the new life he wanted. Maybe if I had been that kind of pitiful girl...

- The one with the real tears and cuts on her wrist. Would he had stayed?

I sit up, back straightening. I can't take it anymore. I grab the bottle on my nightstand and feel a rush from it's rattle. Pop. It's opened, and four of them land in my hand. I take them, and I lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. It's like some kind of relapse- taking them just because of someone else. Up until now, I have never been so impulsive with my benzos. I know I'll be high as fuck and that means I'm confined to my room and four days short of my regimen. For my well being, Miles will have to be forgotten now.

Never again. I say to myself. I proceed to rid the word "normal" from my brain. I will never let anyone get the best of me again. And If I have to go back to being alone?

- So be it.

[nymphl]

Lie to Me - Hux x Reader x Ch. 7: Up & Down

A/N: Hi xD I know I promised to update every Friday, but I was bedridden last week/weekend and couldn’t post chapter 7. But here it is. Since my doctor gave me this week off, I’ll do my best to update chapter 22 of Lie to Me on AO3. I won’t promise though, because I do have to write at least a little bit of my thesis hehe Anyways, here it goes... I hope you like it xD   

Story Summary: Falling for the enemy… That’s probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Letting him live… for he should be dead. And you should’ve been the one to kill him. You had him, right there… and you let it escape through yours fingers. He lived. And now only the time could tell if you made the right decision — more likely wrong — by saving the amnesiac General of the First Order and telling him he was your husband. [Hux x Reader - Hux x You]

Warnings for the entire story: Will contain at times; graphic violence, sex, drugs and manipulation, coarse language and OOCness.

AO3 Tags: from enemies to lovers; eventual romance; memory loss; fake marriage; fake marriage becomes real marriage; rebellion; married couple; canon divergence; slow burn romance; politics; rebel alliance; resistance; first order; OOCness; eventual smut; eventual sex; power play; power dynamics; syndicate; lies; you lie; Hux lies; Hux backstory; manipulation; political alliances; political betrayals; secret organizations.

Wordcount: 3641

PREVIOUS CHAPTER *** NEXT CHAPTER

“AGAIN.”

It was official. You. Kriffing. Hated. Him.

Your body was about to give up, but you did as he said — commanded, whatever, he was in full General mood and you were never so sure in your life as you were right now that you could not take any more of it — and positioned yourself for one more push-up. Your arms trembled; you knew you were about to fall on your face if you did not stop right now, but he was merciless.

That… or he was very pissed off with you.

“Again,” he said once more, his voice clear and unwavering.

Definitely pissed off.

You huffed.

I can’t, you would have said, if you could open your mouth. You just pressed your lips together and inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Maker, you just wanted this to end quickly.

He wanted you to ask for his mercy. He wanted you to beg him to stop.

It was clear that in spite of the fact he expressed gratitude for your honesty five nights ago, he was far from happy — or grateful. He seemed one to hold a grudge for — like forever seemed a fitting definition — a long time. And he would never forgive you for being honest with him — he would not forgive you if you had lied either. He would not forgive you. Period.

You bit your bottom lip and forced yourself up and down. If your body resisted for a few more push-ups — it had to —, you would be done with it and he would have to swallow his pride and compliment you for your effort. After all, he was the one to start the day by saying — mocking, actually — he was eager to know if your training skills had improved after training with him for four days — or how far you could go before your face hit the floor and you completely gave up — just like you did the last few days.       

But he was in for a great ride if he thought you would just give up like that.

You were tired of being mocked, tired of his silent treatment. Whenever you were at home, which was very little time — because you, too, were avoiding him —, he would shift all this attention to the blasted datapad and refuse to talk to you. It was driving you mad! Why couldn’t he just say he was angry — hurt? — that you said you loved Aquilla instead of him?   

He was just insufferable!

Sweat tickled down your face and gathered at your chin. The fact that it was a very hot day did not help you the tiniest bit. With great effort, you breathed through your nose and let the air escape your mouth. There was a reason why you always hated exercises and the weather in Dantooine did not help in the least.

“Stop,” he said and at his command — how you hated it — your body fell limply on the ground.

You placed both hands under your face, using them as a pillow. You would gladly die in this very moment. A contented sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes. Every single bone and muscle in your body sang at the sensation of not being pushed to its limits anymore.

He cleared his throat. The sound made you snap your eyes open and stare at a tree nearby. 

“Are we done for today?” you asked; your tone betrayed yourself. No matter how angry you were with him, you simply could not take it anymore. Hopefully, he would leave you be.

Please, tell me we are done.

“One hundred sit ups. Now.”

“Really?”

The words just escaped your mouth before you could control yourself. You knew how much he disliked when you questioned him, but you could not help yourself. 

He did not give you an answer, but the way he moved to place his feet on each side of you, a few centimeters apart from your hips, made you realize he was not joking. Did he ever joke? Did he know the meaning of such word?

You doubted.

“Give me a break,” you begged, not really caring about keeping your composure anymore. You still had to work and how were you supposed to perform your duties if your body complained at every movement?

“Two hundred sit ups.”

“You can’t be serious!” You rolled on your back and faced him. His eyes were still that icy blue, but the corner of his lips, slightly curved upwards, made it clear he was having fun at your expense.

Bastard.

“How I hate you,” you muttered in Ryl, forgetting for a moment that although not fluent, he, too, could speak the language.

He narrowed his eyes. His lips now pursed into a thin line.  

“Would you like to do three hundred sit ups, Mrs. Hux?”

You did not give him an answer — you doubted he would appreciate any apology coming from you — and instead positioned yourself the way he wanted, very careful not to touch any part of his body — even his clothing. He made sure you understood how of a merciless trainer he could be. If any of your movements came out slightly wrong, he would make you start anew. And you could not have any more of that. Two hundred sit ups were too much as it was.

“I asked you a question, Mrs. Hux.”

“No…” you replied, begrudgingly. “Please, no…” And realizing he would only be satisfied if you addressed him properly, you added, “General.”

You were not sure if this time you saw the commissures of his lips tilting upwards or if your mind was just playing tricks on you.   

“On my mark… Three, two, one, go.”

Apart from the first day of that rigorous training with him, in which you thought you were going to die, you have never felt this tired. You thought that maybe it was the combination of physical fatigue, little sleep and emotional distress.

Despite the fact he asked you to be truthful and actually thanked you for your honesty, he could simply not deal with your answers. And now you felt guilty for saying what was in your heart.    

It seemed that whatever little advancement the two of you had made in the last few days was now all gone to waste. Your relationship was full of ups and downs and you were not sure you could take any more of it.

Unintentionally, you found another difference between Aquilla and the General. Contrary to your husband, Armitage Hux did not know how to voice his feelings — but he knew very well how to voice his anger, even if not how you would expect.

You knew that if any conversation between the two of you were to take place you would have to force it. He would not come to you willingly. But you knew it would not happen tonight.

Tonight, all you wanted — needed — after you were done with your shift at the Hospital, was a relaxing bath and your bed. For the first time, you expected he would have made dinner, so it would be one less task to do. And if he did not, you would go to bed hungry. You just needed some rest.

It did not help that for the past few days you could barely sleep. He would not join you in the bed — you bet he slept even less than you did, if the state of the bed indicated something… — and the only time he did, he stood as far away as possible as the small bed allowed. Neither of you slept that night.

Both of you lay with your backs to each other and when you shifted positions, you lay on your back, hands over your stomach, facing the ceiling — not for the first time you thought that perhaps you should fix the roof, for as soon as the rainy season started the house would suffer with leaks —, you could hear his breathing and feel his warmth, but you did not dare reach out to him. What would you do or say if you did?

You adjusted your bag at your shoulder and rested your head against the door of the changing room. You could always sleep at the Hospital… Meaning… you would be able to evade him and his training next morning…           

The idea was tempting and although you still resented him for forcing your body that much, you needed to come back home. The odd stares you received the whole day and the sensation of being closely followed made you uneasy. Even if he was not the most welcoming of companies, you felt safe at his side — even when he pushed your body to the brink of exhaustion.

At first, you thought that maybe they knew what happened. They knew you killed a guy — although you were not the one to pull the trigger, his blood lay on your hands as much as his —, they had to know. Or maybe it was just another member of his faction following you…

The very thought made you shudder.

You hugged your frame as you climbed down the stairs; the night breeze caught you by surprise. Days were usually hot in Dantooine and nights could either be equally hot or chilly. It was definitely the second — that or he put you in too much strain and you were getting sick.

Not for the first time you caught yourself thinking how much you hated him.

And not for the first time either you admitted to yourself — willingly — that if this rift between you were to be mended, you would have to take the first step. He would not do it himself.

You wondered if he had been in a relationship before, because it certainly seemed otherwise. He would know that his behavior would lead nowhere — and yours too, to be honest. And to think you told him the two of you had been married for three years and half… As if… You could barely look at each other’s face after a minor disagreement — or whatever it could be called — and not even a month of companionship. 

Oh, for the maker!

You shook your head, decided to leave such matters for when you got home. You were not that sure anymore if you would go straight to bed or have that conversation today. You looked around, scanning your surroundings carefully.

That nagging sensation returned. You felt followed.

Biting your bottom lip, you removed his blaster from the holder in your hip — you were not even sure why you were carrying it around; perhaps you were still afraid he would kill a civilian? You simply could not let him light the spark of a Civil War in Dantooine — and hid on a dead-end alley.

You held your breath and started counting. You were not sure if you should attack first or wait; you simply had no idea how to act. You thought about Aquilla — he would certainly attack first and ask later; he would never kill someone, but he was not against injuring his enemies — and the General — would he attack or wait? He was just too difficult to read.

Your heart was beating so madly and quickly in your chest you had to strain your hearing to notice the approaching steps.

Not giving it much thought, you pointed the blaster towards the figure and fired. You prayed you missed any vital points. The very thought of killing or badly hurting someone — even if an enemy — was too unbearable.

It was impossible to see if you hit your target or not, for the lights chose that moment to flicker out, leaving everything in the dark.

You held your breath and put your finger on the trigger again. If your assaulter moved, you would fire again.

A landspeeder Gian V-44 nearby highlighted the entire alley and relief flooded you as you recognized your stalker.

A sigh left your lips.

“Oh, it’s you!”

The relief was short lived though. For as soon as you were left in the dark once more, you felt him attacking you. First the blaster was knocked out of your hands, then both of your arms were put behind your back and he pushed you against the wall; his chest glued to your frame, one of his hands on your throat — what was with him and enclosing his hand around your throat? — and his breath tickling your skin.

“What did I say about letting your enemy know your weakness?”

You pursed your lips in a thin line.

“You are my husband,” you replied, not even trying to remove yourself from his grip. Even if he was your enemy — he is! you corrected yourself. As soon as he knew you were lying to him, you had no doubts he would have no problem killing you, with or without that talk of you being his weakness — it was impossible to hide your aversion to taking a life.  

The streetlights flickered in again. He turned you to face him. The movement was so fast you felt your vision darkening for a second.

“You are the nagging sensation,” you said, looking at him in the eye. A sigh of relief left your lips as you brought your fingers to his face.

He had shaved.

You thought that was a pity. You rather enjoyed the feeling of his growing beard against your skin whenever you kissed, or he decided to put you against the wall and press his face over your neck and jaw.

But what struck out the most in his appearance was his raised eyebrows. It was clear he had no idea what you were talking about.

“You were not…” you trailed off. Kriffing hell! It could only be someone of the faction. You shook your head and decided to change topics, “What are you doing here?”

He did not give you any answer. He continued to stare at you as he removed a strand of hair from your face.

“You were followed,” he stated, icy eyes focused on you, daring you to lie. His fingers still around your throat; they traced windpipe slightly and moved to your clavicle.

You would have to ask some day what was with him and keeping a hand on your throat. It was clear he enjoyed having power over you, but he seemed simply fascinated with that area of your body.

When you felt him placing the blaster back on your holder, you gasped. Not because of his act — well, also because of that, but mainly because of the meaning of it —, but because you realized he was touching you again.

Did it mean he was no longer angry with you? Was he willing to finally talk to you?

Instead of relief, you found yourself getting mad at him. He had no reasons to be angry with you in the first place. And you simply hated how much — and how contradictorily — he made you feel.  

“What did you do about it?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. His question caught you off guard. What did he want you to do? “Nothing, what was I supposed to do?”

“For starters, trust your instincts and fire without fear,” he whispered close to your ear. His tone was nonchalant, but his fingers digging in your hip and his jaw brushing against your face had you gasping.               

“I could have hurt you,” you replied, breathing deeply trough your nose. He either had no idea what he was doing to you or he knew exactly what he was doing.

He snorted against your ear, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. You trembled in his arms. When his lips trailed your neck and his hand inched slightly up, you could not help but moan.  

“You are so easily distracted,” he said, his lips on yours, hovering, but quite not touching. He pressed you against the wall; you could feel every single detail of his body. When you moved both hands along his arms to his neck, you could not help but notice he was wrapped with different fabric than your husband’s clothes. There was no time to dwell in this, for he continued, “It’s no surprise you could be so easily stalked.”

You felt highly offended by his words, but once again you had no time to express your thoughts, for as soon as the lights went down again, he finally kissed you.

It was brief, almost chaste. A mere brush of lips in a leisure rhythm that had you eager for more. With your fingers entwined in his hair, you tried to deepen the kiss, but he held your wrists between his hands and broke apart. It was as if he never meant to kiss you for real, he was merely trying to prove his point…

…which he did.  

With a sigh, you pressed your face against his shoulder, trying futilely to hide your embarrassment.

A minute or so went by in silence. All you could hear was the calming sound of your breaths and the other noises the city had to offer. In spite of the situation, it was a peaceful moment. You tightened your arms around him, bringing him even closer to you. He embraced you back a little awkwardly — as if it was a foreign situation to him.

There, in his arms, you saw your previous anger and chagrin with his actions — his refusal to talk to you about his feelings — dissipate. You realized how much you missed him…

…which was very dangerous in itself.

It was not like you missed a close friend — he was your enemy. You had to remember this. He was not your ally. And you were a fool for think otherwise.

A fool for missing him.

A fool for being angry — hurt even — at his silent treatment.

A fool for feeling your heart clench at the mere thought of losing him forever.  

You tightened your arms around him a little bit more and tried not to dwell on this. All in due time. But it was difficult not to feel so divided… Part of you thought that it was only natural to feel something for him, right? He was the only consistent company you had for the last few years. It was to be expected that you got attached to him. But part of you considered your actions foolish and negligent. You knew better than that.

“Are you still pissed off with me?” Before you could control your tongue, you saw yourself asking. Even if his answer was not what you expected, you had to know. It was killing you to think that he only touched you or decided to talk to you because he wanted to prove his point.  

There was no answer. He kept his words to himself, but you did not let it discourage you. In the darkness, it was easier to be honest with him.

“Because I said I…” You took a deep breath. “Because of my feelings for Aquilla.”

He did not say anything, and you feared you did something horrible. Perhaps that was not the best way to approach the subject. You tried to move away from him, but he did not allow you to, his nose buried in your hair.    

“I am sorry.”

There was silence for a few more seconds. He did not move. He did not speak. You thought that maybe you should either nudge him gently towards your home, where you could talk with more privacy or change the subject. Perhaps ask where he got those clothes… They were so very different from the clothes your husband usually wore…     

“I hated Aquilla. I have always hated him,” he admitted, his voice low. He moved away from you, keeping you still within his reach. He surprised you, for you did not expect him to be so open about a topic he evaded for almost a week. “At first, for his popularity in the Senate, then because he had you.”

I was not his property, I am no one’s property, you felt like saying, but it was not always that he spoke so frankly; you were afraid he would stop altogether if you gave voice to your thoughts right now. You swallowed your pride and nodded.  

“He became my first enemy.”

His words had you shuddering. Does it mean he considered you his enemy as well? It should make you happier — if he saw yourself as such, you had no reason to keep lying and you could move on with your life, far away from him and all the problems you were certain he would bring to you and upon Dantooine — but it made you miserable.

After some minutes passed in silence, you bit your bottom lip. Perhaps you should clarify the matter further. You opened your mouth, but the words to leave you were quite different from what you planned.     

“Just because I said I loved him doesn’t mean I hate you or don’t feel anything for you.”

You expected him to stay quiet as usual, instead, he urged you on with the most impertinent of the questions, “And what do you feel for me?”

You bit your bottom lip. If he made you sweat with such simple — although unwanted — question, you could only imagine how it felt to be interrogated by him as an enemy. The very thought sent a chilly shiver up your spine.

Your eyes moved from his to the floor — their blue color as intense as ever — as you looked for some sort of getaway. You never wanted an interruption so much before.

It’s impossible to know who were more shocked when the words — a soft, confused murmur — left your lips. For in that moment you realized how screwed up you were.   

“I-I don’t know…”

…But I do feel something for you.

A/N - And that’s it! I gotta say I didn’t know tumblr messed up with long texts posts, so I decided to put these FO lines to mark the end of each scene. It’s easy for small chapters like this one... I’m afraid about BB and ITGB chapters hehe. I also changed my theme... if you’re reading using a non-mobile device, I hope you like it as well xD Also, I’ll do my best to update chapter 22 this week and chapter 08 will be updated this Friday. See you xD